Economics in Persian-Period Biblical Texts: Their Interactions With Economic Developments in the Persian Period and Earlier Biblical Traditions (Forschungen Zum Alten Testament, 109) 9783161548130, 9783161549380

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

109

Peter Altmann

Economics in Persian-Period Biblical Texts Their Interactions with Economic Developments in the Persian Period and Earlier Biblical Traditions

Mohr Siebeck

Peter Altmann, born 1974; 2010 PhD in Old Testament from Princeton Seminary; 2008–14 Assistant for Old Testament at the University of Zürich; since 2015 Director of the Hope Center for Spiritual Formation in Reno, USA; since 2016 post-doc research on the dietary laws of Lev 11 and Deut 14 as part of the SNF Sinergia Project “The History of the Pentateuch.”

e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-154938-0 ISBN 978-3-16-154813-0 ISSN 0940-4155 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament) Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2016  Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic s­ ystems. The book was printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany

Preface This monograph represents a lightly edited version of my Habilitationsschrift accepted by the University of Zurich, Switzerland in 2015. For the funding of this project, I would like to thank the University of Zurich, especially the “Forschungskredit” grant commission for the generous scholarship and Prof. Dr. Konrad Schmid for the position as his assistent. While perhaps only a small step, the investigations below represent an attempt to understand the wisdom of biblical texts with regard to a particular set of unending societal difficulties related to economics. Specifically, what help might biblical texts provide in times of profound economic changes? I wish to express my thanks to the editors for the Forschung zum Alten Testament, Konrad Schmid, Mark S. Smith, and Hermann Spieckermann, for accepting my manuscript for publication in the series. The team of copy-editors and publishers led by Dr. Henning Ziebritzki did an impeccable job in quickly and thoroughly assisting with the preparation of the manuscript for publication. I have had the opportunity to work out various ideas and reflections of this volume in earlier venues. I learned a significant amount for this monograph through the publication of two essays, “Tithes for the Clergy and Taxes for the King: State and Temple Contributions in Nehemiah,” CBQ 76 (2014): 215–29 and “Ancient Comparisons, Modern Models, and Ezra-Nehemiah: Triangulating the Sources for Insights on the Economy of Persian Period Yehud,” in The Economy of Ancient Judah in its Historical Context, ed. M. L. Miller, E. Ben Zvi, and G. N. Knoppers (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 103–20. Revised forms of some portions of these essays appear below. These pieces grew out of conference presentations at EABS 2013 in Leipzig and the annual meeting of SBL 2013. Other sections received valuable feedback from further SBL annual meetings, a University of Edinburgh Biblical Colloquium, and several University of Zurich Old Testament Colloquia. I am grateful for the many probing questions and helpful critiques in these settings. The data and reflections presented below have benefited from many insightful and caring people. John Wright, Gary Knoppers, Ehud ben Zvi, Marvin Miller, Oded Lipschits, David Downs, Roger Nam, Tero Astola, Scott Jones, Peter Bedford, Christoph Uehlinger, and David Reimer all took time to interact with me at various points. Professors Thomas Krüger and Konrad Schmid have created a congenial environment for Old Testament scholarship at the University of Zurich

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with their warm encouragement and thoughtful critique throughout my years in Zurich, as well as providing helpful feedback to the Habilitationsschrift itself. Konrad helped with the ongoing refinement of the project and encouraged my general growth as a scholar. I am grateful to my Mittelbau colleagues in Zurich: Jürg Hutzli, Samuel Arnet, Lida Panov, and Regula Gasser, with whom I shared offices during my work on this project. Johannes Corrodi-Katzenstein, Veronika Bachmann and Anke Dorman shared many lunches, family outings, and laughs in addition to giving me scholarly feedback. Prof. Dr. Frank Ueberschaer was a true colleague and friend during our shared years in Zurich and now beyond, giving me practical and scholarly help. Dan Pioske, Safwat Marzouk, and Janling Fu have earned well more than a paltry “thanks” for editing long portions of the manuscript. Andy McCoy has been a true friend, without whose support my life would be much poorer. Elianah and Reuben, my children: your value cannot be measured in economic terms, but rather enjoyed. Birgit: your wisdom, love, and elegance ground us more deeply in divine grace. For God’s glory.

Reno, July 18, 2016

Peter Altmann

Table of Contents List of Abbreviations ............................................................................... XI Chapter 0: Introduction ........................................................................... 1 Chapter 1: History of Scholarship and Methodology ..................... 5 1.1. Taking an Outside View ...........................................................................

5

1.1.1. Economics in Old Testament Studies .............................................

5

1.2. Philosophical Methodology...................................................................... 11 1.3. Approaching a Definition and Methodology for Understanding the Economy and Economic Structures of Ancient Israel .............................. 16 1.3.1. Definitions of ‘Economics’ and ‘Value’ ........................................ 16 1.3.2. Current Approaches to Ancient Economics: Modernist, Marxist, and Substantivist Analysis ............................................... 20 1.3.3. A Way Forward: New Institutional Economics ............................. 29

Chapter 2: The Traditionally Royal Role of Economics in Mesopotamia............................................................................................... 33 2.1. Prices ....................................................................................................... 36 2.2. Wages ....................................................................................................... 40 2.3. Debt and Interest ...................................................................................... 41 2.4. Conclusions .............................................................................................. 46

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Chapter 3: Economics, Cult, and Society in Preexilic Biblical Texts............................................................................ 48 3.1. Economics in Preexilic Israel and Syro-Palestine ................................... 49 Excurses: Prices and Exchange ....................................................................... 61 3.2. Economics in Preexilic Biblical Texts ...................................................... 65 3.2.1. Prophets.......................................................................................... 66 3.2.2. Legal texts ...................................................................................... 70 3.2.3. Kings .............................................................................................. 75 3.3. Conclusions .............................................................................................. 77

Chapter 4: The Economic Background of the Persian Period ..... 79 4.1. The Babylonian Period in Yehud.............................................................. 80 4.2. The Transition to Persian Hegemony ....................................................... 82 4.3. Persian Imperial Economy ....................................................................... 89 4.3.1 The Rise of Coinage: Historical and Methodological Reflections .. 95 4.3.2. The Coinage of the Greater Persian Economy .............................. 100 4.3.3. Persepolis ...................................................................................... 105 4.3.4. Babylonia ...................................................................................... 112 4.3.5. The “Greek World” ....................................................................... 128 4.3.6. The Phoenician City-States ........................................................... 135 4.3.7. The Philistine Coast ...................................................................... 140 4.3.8. Egypt and Elephantine .................................................................. 145 4.3.9. Samaria and Wadi Daliyeh ............................................................ 150 4.3.10. Idumea ......................................................................................... 155 4.3.11. Conclusions ................................................................................. 159 4.4. Yehud: The Record of its Material Culture in the Persian Period .......... 159 4.4.1. The Rebuilding of the Temple, the City of Jerusalem, and Demography .................................................................................. 164 4.4.2. Yehud Coinage .............................................................................. 168

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4.4.3. Changes in the Fourth Century – Historical and Economic .......... 173 4.4.4. Conclusions from the Material Culture and Coins ........................ 175 4.5. Persian-Period Economics in Yehud ....................................................... 177

Chapter 5: Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts .......................................................................................... 188 5.1. Chronicles ............................................................................................... 189 5.2. Priestly Document ................................................................................... 192 5.3. The “Holiness Code” .............................................................................. 196 5.4. Deutero-Isaiah ........................................................................................ 201 5.5. Haggai and Zechariah ............................................................................ 206 5.6. Trends and Conclusions .......................................................................... 209

Chapter 6: The Historical and Composition-Critical Setting of Ezra-Nehemiah .................................................................................... 210 Chapter 7: Who Pays? The Economics of a Theological Question in Ezra 1–8 ............................................................................... 221 7.1. Ezra 2:68–69 ........................................................................................... 223 7.2. Ezra 3:7 ................................................................................................... 225 7.3. Ezra 4:13, 20 ........................................................................................... 229 7.4. Ezra 6:4, 8–10, 13 ................................................................................... 233 7.5. Ezra 7:14–24 ........................................................................................... 237 7.6. Conclusions from the Book of Ezra ......................................................... 242

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Chapter 8: Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics of Tithes, Taxes, Commerce, and Debt ................................. 244 8.1. Nehemiah 3: Pelek as Work or Military Service ..................................... 246 8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity .................................... 249 8.2.1. Philological Reflections on Economic Terms in Neh 5:1–13 ....... 252 8.2.2. Compositional and Historical Location of Neh 5:1–13 ................. 259 8.2.3. Interpretation of Neh 5:1–13 ......................................................... 266 8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table...................... 270 8.3.1 Philological, Text-Critical, and Composition-critical Observations.................................................................................. 271 8.3.2. The View from Persepolis ............................................................. 278 8.3.3. Greek Views of Persian Feasting .................................................. 282 8.3.4. Nehemiah’s Feasting – The Economics of Distribution ................ 284 8.4. Nehemiah 13:4–14: The Economics of Temple Affiliation ...................... 287 8.5. Nehemiah 13:15–22: Economics and Sacred Time ................................. 293 8.6. Conclusions from the Book of Nehemiah ................................................ 298

Chapter 9: Conclusion ........................................................................... 300 Bibliography .............................................................................................. 305

Abbreviations Abbreviations not found in The SBL Handbook of Style, Second Edition are listed below. AP ATNS BH BM CAL CBS CT

IduOstr LE LH LL LU LUT Ni OECT Off. Aram. OP PBS RES Si UNC VAT VS ZurB

Cowley, Aramaic Papyrus of the Fifth Century B.C. (Oxford, 1923) J. B. Segal, Aramaic Texts from North Saqqâra (London, 1983) Biblical Hebrew Tablets in the collection of the British Museum Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon (http://cal1.cn.huc.edu/) Museum siglum of the University Museum in Philadelphia (Catalogue of the Babylonian Section) Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum (London 1896 ff.) The hoard of antiquities market ostraca from Idumea Laws of Eshnunna Laws of Hammurabi Laws of Lipit-Ishtar Laws of Ur-Nammu Luther Bibel (1984) Museum siglum of the Archaeological Museum, Istanbul (Nippur) Oxford Editions of Cuneiform Texts (Oxford 1923 ff.) Official Aramaic Old Persian University of Pennsylvania, The Museum, Publications of the Babylonian Section Revue des études sémitiques (Paris 1934–1939) Field numbers of tablets excavated at Sippar in the collections of the Archaeological Museums (Istanbul) University of North Carolina museum siglum Museum siglum of the Vorderasiatisches Museum, Berlin (Vorderasiatische Abteilung. Tontafeln) Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler der (Königlichen) Museen zu Berlin (Berlin 1907 ff.) Zürcherbibel, 2007

Chapter 0

Introduction 0. Introduction

Large-scale economic change took place during the sixth to fourth centuries BCE dominated by the Persians in the Eastern Mediterranean and ancient Near East. For starters, it was the period when polities began using coinage. In addition, the Babylonian economy (or economies) expanded significantly in terms of its production output. Greeks and Phoenicians developed large geographical trading networks, such that the Greeks, led by Athens, became an economic powerhouse. Finally, the first treatises on economics and economic ethics also emerge at the end of this epoch. The biblical texts generally assigned to the Persian period are not immune to these developments. Economic terminology and considerations appear in Second Isaiah and the “Holiness Code.” Economic issues are central to the way that Ezra-Nehemiah approach their topics of temple building and of Judean self-understanding in the opening centuries of the Second Temple period. For example, the conflicts surrounding the rebuilding of the temple and the establishment of Nehemiah’s authority in Ezra-Nehemiah are negotiated in economic terms: who pays, who profits, and when are profits less important. While the prominence of economic concerns increased during the Persian period, it is not as if economics were unimportant prior to this time. In fact, in order to understand the economic dynamics at play in the Persian period and the biblical texts from this time, it is necessary to formulate a thorough conception of the way that economics figures into the culture, politics, cult, and discourse of the broader ancient Near Eastern and more specifically into preexilic Israelite/Judahite society. For example, even Hammurabi’s famous legal treatise devotes considerable space to addressing such issues as interest rates, debt-slavery, and economic payments as penal consequences. The role of the ruler was often exemplified by action in this very sphere of human existence. These concerns are mirrored in traditional royal psalms, such as Ps 72. However, the specific changes of the Persian period, discussed below in extensive detail, warrant special consideration because there were concrete economic developments – though not all as unprecedented as coinage – that began to change the formulations of communities in dramatic ways. As such, this project lays out the foundations for economic conceptions and documents their changing roles in the Old Testament and in the cultures from which it emerged. The biblical focus, while requiring significant interaction with

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the material culture, leads the discussion to devote special attention to the ascendancy and the theological and identity implications of economics as structuring metaphors for conceptions of divine action and human community. The questions that this project seeks to answer are the following: (1.) What was the nature of “traditional” economics and economic discourse in the broader ancient Near East and Israel in particular? And (2.) How does this traditional formulation begin to change in the Persian period? This perspective results in new insights into the biblical texts, especially with regard to how they engage with the economic tenor of the Persian-dominated world from which they emerged. In order to understand the role of economics in the Persian period and the biblical texts from the period, a number of factors will be addressed. Because this investigation belongs to a relatively new conversation within biblical studies, a number of preliminary issues arise when attempting to situate it for a biblical studies audience. The first chapter will provide a short history of the limited scholarship on the topic and consider methodological questions. The seminal questions include the importance of concrete cultural experiences like economics for the construction and interpretation of biblical texts. Second, how can one conceive of the economics in the ancient Near East in general? And third, what kinds of structures and categories are helpful for ancient economies? The second and third chapters trace the traditional categories for speaking about economic topics within divine, religious, political, and social realities. Chapter Two begins “at the beginning” of ancient Near Eastern writing about economics, and Chapter Three recounts ancient Israelite conceptions. Neither of these chapters aims to be exhaustive; they instead include exemplary discussion of central formulations of economics – Chapter Two treats economic rhetoric in law treatises, actual debt-release proclamations, and administrative records from the surrounding cultures. Chapter Three recounts some of the key texts with regard to economic themes in Amos, Isaiah, and Micah, as well as the legal reflections in the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy, finishing with some comments about Kings. The significance of these investigations is to point out the importance of economic concerns within the divine and royal rhetoric of the broad context and to provide a flavor of way that economics arises in the ancient Near East. In both cases, economic considerations are bound closely to royal and divine motifs of order and justice. While Chapters Two and Three provide the diachronic background for Persian period biblical texts, the extensive Chapter Four addresses synchronic changes that take place in the Babylonian and Persian periods. These changes are significant for the intellectual history as well: As the philosophers of language Lakoff and Johnson note, “If a new metaphor enters the conceptual system that we base our actions on, it will alter that conceptual system and the

0. Introduction

3

perceptions and actions that the system gives rise to.”1 This, the longest chapter, considers the broad perspectives from the various regions of the Persian Empire and Eastern Mediterranean – the Persian heartland, Babylonia, the Greek world, Phoenician city-states, Egypt, and the Palestinian provinces under Persian rule. This broad survey is necessary for several reasons. The first is that there is little scholarship that provides this kind of overview of the economic nature of the Persian period, especially with an eye toward biblical studies. Another reason is the overlap between texts and the concrete experiences of the texts’ time and culture of origins.2 For example, what role does increased commercialization and the rise of coinage under the reformulation of imperial duties and economic structures play in the theological language and ethics of these early Second Temple scriptures? Third, the data is both variegated and laconic: there are coins from some regions, but archaeological insights from others. Herodotus provides details on Greece, the Eastern Mediterranean, and Egypt, but from a decidedly Greek perspective. The Persepolis archives offer economic data, but only from the early Persian period and the immediate Persian heartland. The largest amount of data may come from Babylonia, where a wealth of economic records continue to be published about this era; however, the economies of this region certainly differ in many ways from contemporary Yehud. While not ideal, melding together the diverse sources allows for a fuller if composite picture. Fourth, Judean exiles living in both the western edge of the Persian Empire in Egypt and also in the central region of Babylonia had significant contact with their compatriots in Yehud (and Samaria). Significantly, the economic developments in these regions can be taken to have impressed the residents of Yehud. Chapters Five through Eight then turn to the biblical texts of the Persian period themselves. They identify the economic considerations as they arise in the texts and analyze the ways that the biblical texts approach economics. Specifically, what role was economics accorded within the “divine economy”? How do the economic conceptions of reality promoted in these texts compare with the streams of tradition in other biblical texts? These steps will help to place the texts within the development of biblical traditions. While my main investigations center on the book(s) of Ezra-Nehemiah because of the intensive appearance of economic themes in these books, Chapter Five begins by casting the net wider and taking a look at insights that can be gleaned from the changes introduced to Chronicles as opposed to Kings. Deutero-Isaiah also contains a centrally important text for the discussion – or rather rejection – of an economic conception of God in Isa 55. Chapter Seven, after the brief discussion of the 1

George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago: University of Chicago, 2003), 145. 2 Ibid., 119: “…our conceptual system is grounded in our experiences in the world.”

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historical and composition-critical place of Ezra-Nehemiah in Chapter Six, then turns to Ezra 1–8, where the main discussion can be summarized in terms of the question, “Who will pay for the temple?” While the central narrative theme of the book of Nehemiah, on the other hand, is the building of the wall (which is, of course, also important in economic terms!), decidedly economic topics arise especially in chs. 5 and 13. These texts as a whole generally point toward the importance of economic issues for the creation and maintenance of the Yehud community and its cultic practice. The community is repeatedly called to acknowledge Yahweh as controller of purse strings and as one who both rejects and controls the reckoning of imperial finances. In like manner, the biblical texts call the Judeans to place other values above economic value. The conclusion, Chapter Nine, draws the analysis of the biblical texts together, highlighting their global perspective and interaction with the economics of their time. So, as a whole, this study aims to illuminate the theological and social implications inherent in placing an economic lens in the forefront of biblical texts.

Chapter 1

History of Scholarship and Methodology This first chapter lays out my approach to the undertaking as a whole in light of past scholarship. Several different methodological concerns warrant attention. The first of them is the nature the relationship between economics and literature. The second issue is the meaning of ‘economics’ and one of its key terms, ‘value.’ Drawing closer to the era of the biblical texts, a third methodological question is what kind of economic understanding can be discerned for the ancient Near East in general and early Second Temple Yehud in particular. This issue relates closely to various schools of economic thought, such as neoclassic analysis, R. Boer’s Marxism, K. Polanyi’s substantivism, and D. North’s institutional economics.

1.1. Taking an Outside View 1.1. Taking an Outside View

Before turning to the attention that economics has garnered in academic Old Testament Studies to this point, I first want to note that the focus on “economics” as a separate undertaking is a conception that is foreign to the understandings of the world on display in both ancient Israel and throughout most of antiquity – at least until the Greek treatises of Aristotle and Xenophon. Thus, the perspective taken in my investigation is, in this aspect, clearly an etic, rather than an emic one. While the veracity of this claim may be difficult to dispute, it is its very nature that gives rise to the question of which etic view to take, and the resultant importance of the history of scholarship and theoretical reflections that follow. 1.1.1. Economics in Old Testament Studies Economics has never played a major role in Old Testament Studies. Traditionally, its greatest impact has been felt in attempts to apply the critiques of economic oppression in the exodus story and the prophets (especially Amos) to various interpreters’ societies.1 These types of studies invariably engage in 1

For the exodus and legal material, the classic locus is “Liberation Theology,” i.e., Enrique Nardoni, Rise Up, O Judge: A Study of Justice in the Biblical World, trans. Sean Martin (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2004); Juan Luis Segundo, Liberation of Theology (Maryknoll,

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some level of reflection on the economic circumstances of the societies from which the biblical texts emerge, yet sustained their focus is instead on influencing economic ethics in modern-day societies. Some related studies, the exemplary one being N. Gottwald’s Tribes of Yahweh, do spend significant energy on the socio-economic background of Israel’s emergence, but this has little to do with a vast majority of Old Testament texts.2 In the past several years, however, a number of studies have begun to appear on economics, including several that address economics in the Persian period, especially by scholars involved in the SBL unit on “economics in the biblical world.” A locus classicus for economics has been the preexilic prophets. Seminal among these in German-speaking circles has been the work of Rainer Kessler, who maintains that preexilic prophets do not directly rebuke members of the ruling bureaucracy, but rather members of an Israelite/Judahite non-governmental elite for their economic oppression of less economically powerful neighbors.3 Cheney and Premnath (whose dissertation was directed by Cheney) follow Gottwald’s rather Marxist lead and place the accent somewhat differently.4 They argue that the increasing commercialization of the Assyrian-dominated eighth and seventh centuries led to considerable exports by Judah. This situation resulted in monocultural planting, thus impinging on subsistence farmers’ abilities to withstand drought years and other challenges. In the end, landholdings were concentrated into the hands of the few, which Premnath designates latifundialization.5 More recently, Coomber has taken the notion of commercialization in the preexilic period to a new level. He understands Judah to have been part of a “world-system,” comparing it with post-colonial Tunisia.6 NY: Orbis, 1976). There are, of course, many other quite worthy and more recent Old Testament/Hebrew Bible ethical studies. 2 Norman Karol Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh: A Sociology of the Religion of Liberated Israel 1250-1050 B.C.E. (London: SCM Press, 1980). 3 Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda: Vom 8. Jahrhundert bis zum Exil, VTSup 47 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 118–19. More detailed discussion of these works is found below. 4 Marvin L. Chaney, “Bitter Bounty: The Dynamics of Political Economy Critiqued by the Eighth-Century Prophets,” in Reformed Faith and Economics, ed. R. L. Stivers (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1989), 15–30; idem, “Micah – Models Matter: Political Economy and Micah 6:9-15,” in Ancient Israel: The Old Testament in Its Social Context, ed. P. F. Esler (London: SCM Press, 2005), 145–60; D. N. Premnath, Eighth Century Prophets: A Social Analysis (St. Louis: Chalice, 2003); idem, “Loan Practices in the Hebrew Bible,” in To Break Every Yoke: Essays in Honor of Marvin L. Chaney, ed. R. B. Coote and N. K. Gottwald, Social World of Biblical Antiquity 3 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2007), 173–85. 5 “Eighth Century Prophets,” 1. 6 Matthew J. M. Coomber, Re-Reading the Prophets through Corporate Globalization, Biblical Intersections 4 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2010); see also my “Review of Re-Reading the Prophets through Corporate Globalization: A Cultural-Evolutionary Approach to

1.1. Taking an Outside View

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Also focusing on the preexilic period is Nam, who instead chooses the books of Kings for his textual focus.7 While there is dissent over the actual preexilic nature of the corpus he chooses, Nam’s work broadens the methodological focus, showing how markets and social relations could each play dominant roles in different depictions of economic dealings in biblical texts. This broad focus makes a valuable contribution in its attention to the various theoretical approaches to economics in the biblical texts, noting the applicability of various viewpoints such as substantivism and market-oriented economics.8 Also garnering significant interest has been Torah legislation on debt-slavery, loans, Sabbath, and jubilee. When such studies consider the historicaleconomic context, Mesopotamian legal treatises (esp. Hammurabi) take center stage. Otherwise, the contrast of interest rates with surrounding cultures can play an important role.9 Taking a more comprehensive view, Houston investigates not only the preexilic period but continues his analysis into the Persian and Hellenistic eras. He incisively critiques previous studies that accord too much similarity to the modern commercial economies (like Coomber’s) and notions of latifundialization or “rent capitalism.”10 Whether for the preexilic period or later, Houston correctly adduces from the likes of Proverbs that the idea of a leisurely idea for the elite is unfounded in biblical literature, therefore suggesting that a wealthy leisurely class was not to be found.11 Economic Injustice in the Hebrew Bible, by Matthew J. M. Coomber,” JHebS 13 (2013), http://www.jhsonline.org/reviews/reviews_new/review699.htm. 7 Roger S. Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange in the Book of Kings, Biblical Interpretation Series (Leiden: Brill, 2012). His approach is far more balanced than that on display in Morris Silver, “Prophets and Markets Revisited,” in Social Justice in the Ancient World, ed. K. D. Irani and M. Silver, Contributions in political science 354 (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1995), 179–98. 8 See more on this below, Section 1.3.2. 9 Raymond Westbrook and Richard Jasnow, eds., Security for Debt in Ancient Near Eastern Law, CHANE 9 (Leiden: Brill, 2001); Michael J. Williams, “Taking Interest in Interest,” in Mishneh Todah: Studies in Deuteronomy and Its Cultural Environment, ed. N. S. Fox, D. A. Glatt-Gilad, and M. J. Williams (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009), 113–32; Michael Hudson and Marc Van de Mieroop, eds., Debt and Economic Renewal in the Ancient Near East (Capital Decisions Ltd, 2002); Michael Hudson, The Lost Tradition of Biblical Debt Cancellations (New York: Henry George School of Social Science, 1993); Michael Hudson, “How Interest Rates Were Set, 2500 BC-1000 AD: Máš, Tokos and Fœnus as Metaphors for Interest Accruals,” JESHO 43 (2000): 132–61. 10 For an earlier proponent of “rent capitalism,” see Bernhard Lang, “Prophetie und Ökonomie im alten Israel,” in “Vor Gott sind Alle gleich”: Soziale Gleichheit, soziale Ungleichheit und die Religionen, ed. G. Kehrer (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1983), 53–73. 11 Walter J. Houston, Contending for Justice: Ideologies and Theologies of Social Justice in the Old Testament, 2nd ed., LHB / OTS 428 (London: T&T Clark, 2008), 26, 29; followed by Philippe Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis: Agrarian Finance in the Hebrew Bible, Bible World (London: Equinox, 2012).

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Similarly, Kessler provides an overall view of the social history of ancient Israel, beginning from the pre-state era and continuing to the Hellenistic period. His volume, as a “social history,” includes far more than simply economics. In any case, he does devote a significant chapter to the Persian-period provincial society.12 As a Persian province, Kessler sees Yehud existing in the tension between partial autonomy on the one hand and the watchful “secret service” known as the “eyes/ears of the king” and the possibility of quick response enabled by the development of the Persian postal system.13 He follows reconstructions of the history of the province that name a (second – after the rebuilding of the Temple in 520–515 BCE) turning point in the middle of the fifth century with the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the rebellion by Megabyzos.14 Kessler understands the major divide in the Yehud society to be along the lines of class, which has developed from preexilic roots of impoverishment and oppression on the basic issues of land ownership and religious-political leadership, though also touching on the concerns between those who remained behind (also in Samaria) and those returning from exile.15 However, in spite of these several economic-oriented investigations of the biblical literature from the preexilic period, perhaps the only contribution on the economics of the period per se is the essay by Bedford, which itself is a broad investigation of the economies of the Near East in the first millennium. My italics here are meant to highlight the broad nature of this investigation, albeit by a biblical scholar, that therefore does not really get to the details of Israel/Judah. Nonetheless, what he does lay out, in broad terms, like Nam’s volume, are the three classic approaches to ancient economics – Marxist analysis, K. Polanyi and Finley’s substantivism, and M. Silver’s modernist analysis. Furthermore, these works are generally focused on the “classic” biblical period before the exile. Houston’s work, as I have just mentioned, does devote significant attention to the Persian period, but this is part of broad comments on the whole first millennium in Israel. In earlier generations, the primary work considering economics of the Persian period (that are more than exegetical

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Rainer Kessler, Sozialgeschichte des alten Israel: eine Einführung (Darmstadt: WBG, 2006), 135–72. 13 Ibid., 138–39. 14 He follows the problematic analysis of Charles E. Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study, JSOTSup 294 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999). I will address this at length below, in 4.4. Yehud: The Record of its Material Culture in the Persian Period. 15 Kessler, Sozialgeschichte des alten Israel, 143–44. For example, he imagines there being “dump people” outside the Dung Gate in Jerusalem at this time. This assumes a level of proseperity in Jerusalem that is inconsistent with the demographics of the city during the whole Persian Period. Cf. also ibid., 145–46.

1.1. Taking an Outside View

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readings of esp. Neh 5) were the monographs by Kippenberg and Kreissig.16 The former places the rise of coinage at the center of his view, suggesting that farmers were forced into the market, which had debilitating effects for their welfare. The latter draws a sharp distinction between domestic and international trade, but sees the small farmers as suffering from the effects of both. The last several years have seen the beginnings of sustained attention to economics in later periods from the exile through the Hellenistic period. With regard to Persian-period economics in Yehud, several studies are especially worthy of mention, though, again, their purviews remain quite broad. Most extensive in terms of breath of material is the first volume of Grabbe’s A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period.17 He provides a fairly exhaustive overview of the important archaeological sites, coins, extra-biblical, and biblical sources important for constructing an economics of the Persian period in Yehud. However, this volume functions more as a source book than as extended analysis. Second, Guillaume has provided a significant critique of the notion that the small farmer was perpetually in “crisis,” arguing for an alternative understanding of debt – namely as sign of a well-functioning economy.18 He has not, however, offered a sustained discussion of the changes taking place in the Persian period. Third is the article by Milevski that details, from an explicitly named perspective of the “Asian mode of production” (though one may question how much this really influences his analysis), especially the taxes laid upon Yehud.19 He notes the three kinds of taxes mentioned in Ezra 4:13; 7:24, but also goes a step further in noting the “sustenance of the governor” (Neh 5:14–19), and the possible corvée in Neh 3. Significantly, however, he locates tax collection in the Jerusalem temple. Fourth is a broad analysis of the crisis reported in Neh 5 by Schottroff, who addresses the complex of work and social conflict on the basis of the state of

16 Hans G. Kippenberg, Religion und Klassenbildung im antiken Judäa: Eine religionssoziologische Studie zum Verhältnis von Tradition und gesellschaftlicher Entwicklung, 2nd ed., SUNT 14 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982); Heinz Kreissig, Die sozialökonomische Situation in Juda zur Archämenidenzeit, Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur des Alten Orients 7 (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1973). Kippenberg’s work will appear again below in my discussion of Neh 5. 17 Lester L. Grabbe, A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period: Vol 1: The Persian Period (London: T&T Clark, 2004). 18 Philippe Guillaume, “Nehemiah 5: No Economic Crisis,” JHebS 10 (2010): Article 8; Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis; see the response by Marvin Lloyd Miller, “Nehemiah 5: A Response to Philippe Guillaume,” JHebS 10 (2010): Article 13. 19 Ianir Milevski, “Palestine’s Economic Formation and the Crisis of Judah (Yehud) during the Persian Period,” Transeu 40 (2011): 135–59.

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Jews throughout the Persian Empire.20 Schottroff does an admirable job in pulling together a variety of sources: interest rates from Elephantine, the representation of Jews in the Murashu Archive, the archaeological continuity in the Judean highlands and Benjamin after the Babylonian exiles, and the interactions between the golah and those who returned. He marshals this panoply of data to argue that the crisis narrated in Neh 5 is an eyewitness account of a conflict that had been brewing for a long time. As I will recount below, Schottroff draws on the longstanding tradition of debt-release (from third to second millennium Mesopotamia) to show the underlying expectations for a conception of justice that includes wide-reaching economic provisions.21 A challenge for Schottroff’s perspective, which I will discuss at length later, is his unnamed assumption that the rebuilding of the walls depicted in Neh 3–4 led unequivocally (and quickly?) to Jerusalem’s renaissance, complete with smiths and traders operating primarily in service of the temple (cf. Neh 3:8, 31–32).22 Finally, the most recent and most comprehensive analysis of economics in the Second Temple Period is the monograph by Adams.23 While the volume also covers the 500-year period from the Persians to the Romans, it begins with the family, a highly important and relatively stable economic structure during this time. He demonstrates the profoundly economic concerns involved in choices of marriage partners, relating this conclusion to Ezra 9–10 and Neh 13. Lacking from his treatment is a grounded methodology, on the one hand – this is simply missing from his presentation. He also refrains from detailed consideration of the varying dynamics of economics and taxation during the reigns of each of the foreign powers (or the local Hasmoneans). His purpose is more to provide an overview and to discuss biblical texts, but without an in depth comparison with the economic developments of the period.24 When the lens is cast more broadly to include considerations of economics in the surrounding regions, the results diverge vastly. The remarkable growth in Greece and economic treatises of the late Persian/Classical Period have led to a number of economic investigations. Similarly, the considerable number of economic tablets from Babylonia from the sixth century onward are giving rise to many studies. The results are less impressive for the Levant, though there has been considerable interest in the local coinages from Phoenicia all the way 20 Willy Schottroff, “Arbeit und sozialer Konflikt im nachexilischen Juda,” in Gerechtigkeit Lernen: Beiträge zur biblischen Sozialgeschichte, ed. F. Crüsemann and W. Schottroff, TB 94 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1999), 52–93. 21 Ibid., 87–91. 22 Ibid., 77–80. 23 Samuel L. Adams, Social and Economic Life in Second Temple Judea (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2014). 24 For more detail, see my “Review of Social and Economic Life in Second Temple Judea, by Samuel L. Adams,” JHebS 15 (2015), http://www.jhsonline.org/reviews/reviews_new/review747.htm.

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down to Philistia. Each of these regions will be discussed in due course below, but the general conclusion is simply that there is no monograph on economics focusing on the Persian period in biblical studies. The wealth of comparative material from the surrounding cultures and the developments in archaeology of the Persian period suggest that a desideratum, one which my study hopes to address. A further question that I address is the way that these postexilic texts take up and transform economic conceptions from earlier biblical and ancient Near Eastern texts. For in order to understand the biblical texts, I contend that investigation of both the synchronic environment and the diachronic streams of traditions are required.

1.2. Philosophical Methodology 1.2. Philosophical Methodology

As mentioned above in the Introduction, I assume the influence of various spheres of life upon one another. In this case I am arguing that economic developments influence the theological reflections and conceptions of society in the period. My contention grows from philosophical underpinnings found in Continental philosophy from the Heideggerian and hermeneutical traditions – no thinking exists outside the context of human experience. Furthermore, this human experience exists – or is “thrown” into an already existent world made up of various realities, especially the specificities involved in a particular cultural and language milieu. As a result, social practice and communal formation always reflect a particular cultural-linguistic context. Ricœur’s hermeneutics develops this Heideggerian perspective. He notes the limits placed on thought by habitual action. In his early book Fallible Man, he argues for the importance of the limited and interested point of view, grounded in a particular setting. Humans form habits that can change them because we can change the self through acts. But in this change, one is no longer in the beginning. These actions of learning (habitude) make one less available. Our habits show that we are bound and subject to a law of materiality (the law of inertia).25

According to this description, actions – especially everyday tasks that are no longer taken to be significant because they are instead taken for granted as “the way things are” – circumscribe the parameters of human reflection. The direct outgrowth of this point of view in terms of economics in relation to reflexes of the divine and of community in biblical texts is that God and the community 25

Paul Ricœur, Fallible Man, trans. C. A. Kelbley, rev. ed., (New York: Fordham University Press, 1986), 57. A similar perspective, and choice of words, arises in the sociological tradition of Pierre Bourdieu’s “habitus”: cf. Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, trans. Richard Nice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 82; idem, “The Berber House or the World Reversed,” Social Science Information 9 (1970): 151–70.

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are formulated through the categories that are experienced in mundane economic (to name the relevant category here) reality. For example, when value is something that can be defined in terms of weight in silver, then such a manner of practice influences the way that individuals approach objects, acti-vities, and people in their surroundings. Ricœur later develops, in keeping with this line of argumentation, the foundational importance of symbols and metaphors in human thinking. The wellknown title of the conclusion of his The Symbolism of Evil, “The symbol give rise to thought,” is a memorable indicator of this perspective.26 The key point here is that there is something that comes before, meaning necessarily prior to, human reflection. In that discussion Ricœur considers symbols. Turning to the scenario under discussion here, that priority lies in the type of economic interactions that took place in the Persian period, which then go on to influence human understandings and formulations of the abstract realities of the “divine” and “community.” Even more decisive for the foundational approach of my project, however, is a different insight appearing in Ricœur’s The Rule of Metaphor,27 though also developed in other contexts. He explains how basic conceptual changes take place in a description of the innovation involved in metaphor, calling it “… a way of responding in a creative fashion to a question presented by things. … The final outcome is a new description of the universe of representations.”28 A situation arises in which a human subject responds by combining terms or concepts that had not previous been related to one another. In doing so a new possible way of conceiving of the world results. Lakoff and Johnson, building on Ricœur’s perspective, comment on the creation of new metaphors that: “If a new metaphor enters the conceptual system that we base our actions on, it will alter that conceptual system and the perceptions and actions that the systems give rise to.”29 This theoretical reflection articulates a specific point for the methodological foundation of my investiga-

26

Paul Ricœur, The Symbolism of Evil, trans. E. Buchanan (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969). Idem, The Rule of Metaphor: Multi-Disciplinary Studies of the Creation of Meaning in Language, trans. R. Czerny, University of Toronto romance series 37 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1977). 28 Ibid., 125. He is interacting here with the work of Stephen Ullmann, Précis de sémantique française. Cf. Dan R. Stiver, Theology after Ricœur: New Directions in Hermeneutical Theology (Louisville, KY: Westminister John Knox, 2001). He notes (ibid., 107) that according to Ricœur, “To say that a metaphor is not drawn from anywhere is to recognize it for what it is: namely, a momentary creation of language, a semantic innovation which does not have a status in the language as something already established, whether as a designation or as a connotation.” Later (ibid., 242), in comparing a metaphor to a model, he remarks: “If the model, like metaphor, introduces a new language, its description equals explanation.” 29 Lakoff and Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, 145. 27

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tion, where new developments in terms of new activities and conceptions appear. Biblical writers respond and incorporate the developing economic circumstances and structures arising in the Persian period into their views of the divine and of community. As I will go on to elaborate below, the Persian period was a time that witnessed the rise of (relatively) new forms of economic interaction – new economic metaphors – especially in the development of coinage and the proliferation of commercialization. This is not to argue, as I will show, that these practices and the theoretical reflection accompanying them were completely new. They did, however, take on considerable more importance in the formation of society, becoming more central. As a result, these forms of action gave rise to new forms of thought.30 This shift in practice and also in thought takes place in the (later) Persian period in Yehud. The move towards “money,” and perhaps even towards a wider use of “currency,” carries a number of deep-reaching implications for societies. Hölscher notes, Whereas the traditional exchange of gifts had been a specific act, confined to specific occasions, effectuated through specific objects with specific symbolic meanings for specific purposes, particularly for creating personal bonds and relations between the donor and the receiver of the gift, money excluded more or less such symbolic values. Exchange on the basis of money was universal: Money had no special purpose, it could be applied to all things, to all subjects, in all contexts.31

Hölscher, and elsewhere Seaford, detail the extensive abstraction involved in a move towards money. Money – and currency – can literally be abstracted from particular contexts and relationship. These transactions are remarkably different than the personal gift-giving of redistributive and gift-oriented tribute systems. However, while this may be true theoretically, I would demur that this was not the case in Persian-period Yehud: money had its effect, but it is overblown to say that money ruled. Traditional conceptions and categories for economics remained extremely prominent and productive. There was a clash between old and new. Change did undoubtedly occur, even much earlier. In biblical scholarship, the recognition of one small developmental change with regard to the underlying conception of goods has appeared in a now three-decade-old article by 30

While my discussion has built primarily on discussion of symbols (Ricœur) and language (Lakoff and Johnson), Ricouer shows how this approach can also work with actions in Paul Ricœur, “The Model of the Text: Meaningful Action Considered as a Text,” New Literary History 5 (1973): 91–117 (esp. 97–100). 31 Tonio Hölscher, “Money and Image: The Presence of the State on the Routes of Economy,” in Money as God? The Monetization of the Market and the Impact on Religion, Politics, Law and Ethics, ed. M. Welker and J. von Hagen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 111–36. Cf. Richard Seaford, Money and the Early Greek Mind: Homer, Philosophy, Tragedy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).

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Rainer Kessler, “Silber und Gold, Gold und Silber.”32 He details, according to critical scholarship in the 1980s, the philological distribution according to historical era of the order in which the two terms ‫ כסף‬and ‫ זהב‬appear. His argument begins by showing that the term appearing first generally was the term of higher value. Because “silver” appears first in the earlier texts, he attempts to come up with a scenario in which silver’s value exceeded gold’s. He contends that in the preexilic period gold was only used to make luxury items, while silver already could function as a “money”: “Gold ist Reichtum, der in der Form von Luxusgütern und Schmuck zur Schau gestellt wird … Silber dagegen ist Reichtum in der Form von Geld.”33 Once gold coins emerge so that gold takes on exchange value, then there is no reason for silver to be listed first, except when following earlier practice. He concludes Nachexilischer Sprachgebrauch zeigt tatsächlich diesen Wandel an. Am eindeutigsten ist eine Notiz in Esra 8,27. Da werden erwähnt “zwanzig goldene Becher im Werte von (le) tausend Dariken.” Verwandelten sich bei Salomo die 666 Luxusgütern, den zwanzig goldenen Bechern, nunmehr vorrangig ihr Geldwert, nämlich tausend Dariken. Der Wertmaßstab hat in der Betrachtung der Dinge die praktische Bedeutung abgelöst.34

In general his argument is helpful in that it picks up on the increasing exchange value of objects (especially the note in Ezra 8:27); however, to this point no gold coins have been discovered in Palestine, so the influence is likely somewhat less direct. Nonetheless, the writer of Ezra assumes an audience that can conceive of gold coins called darics. And this unit of measurement implies not only the prestige of luxury goods, but concrete items with a particular (quantified) purchase power. With this analysis, Kessler documents in a detailed manner the kind of metaphorical underpinnings that accompany the development of a certain concrete economic system, which accords with my philosophical discussion from Ricœur and Lakoff and Johnson above. I follow their line of thinking and turn the analysis to questions of how these economic developments can be traced and how their impact were felt on Judean conceptions of God (Gottesvorstellungen) and society. Thus, my project in some sense adopts Kessler’s methodology and applies it writ large to the trajectory of the early Second Temple Period. In order to do so, the methodological underpinnings for this investigation will begin with a phenomenological question, namely paying attention to “what is there” in the texts. In other words, how do the economic motifs of postexilic biblical texts compare to those in texts from earlier periods?35 While the dating 32

Rainer Kessler, “Silber und Gold, Gold und Silber: Zur Wertschätzung der Edelmetalle im alten Israel,” BN 31 (1986): 57–69. 33 Ibid., 64–65. 34 Ibid., 67. 35 A methodological parallel appears in Seaford’s work and more recently in Benedikt Eckhardt, “Geld, Macht, Sinn: ‘Überpekuniarisierte Verhältnisse’ im Athen des fünften und

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of various texts could complicate this investigation – dating texts to the Persian period on the basis of the appearance of economic language would present a circular argument – the selection of the Persian (at the earliest) texts of EzraNehemiah provides a more solid foundation. In fact, the data is quite clear in support of the rise of economic conceptions in later texts, so my discussion moves more to understanding what accompanies such a change. However, the next three chapters first address important background topics. The first, Chapter Two, considers the broad context. More specifically, what are some of the dominant ways that economics is traditionally addressed in the ancient Near East? The following chapter, “Economics, Cult, and Society in Preexilic and Exilic Biblical Texts,” investigates the usually similar formulations with regard to economics in preexilic and exilic Israel. It addresses both the best way to approach the economics and economic structures of these periods and also the roles economics plays in both cult and society. After this tour through the earlier texts, the focus then shifts to the identification of noticeable economic changes that took place in the Eastern Mediterranean in the Persian period. These lengthy preliminary studies lay the foundation for understanding the developments that appear in the Persian-period texts themselves. Approaching an understanding of the place of economics in the broader biblical literature of the period (some of it debated in terms of historical location) will then give way to in depth discussion of the economic thematic in Ezra-Nehemiah. The conclusion summarizes the broad developments both on the ground and in the texts. It notes how economics becomes a focal point with a different emphasis as the history of biblical literature progresses.

vierten Jahrhunderts v. Chr.,” in Geld als Medium in der Antike, ed. K. Martin and B. Eckhardt (Berlin: Verlag Antike, 2011), 29. He states, “Wie aber kann man zeigen, dass die Geldäquivalenzen über den Bereich der Handelsgüter hinausgingen? Letztlich wird man versuchen, an geeigneten Texten, also doch wohl vor allem an der Theaterliteratur (und mit einem besonderen Augenmerk auf Aristophanes), das Ausgreifen des Geldes auf gesellschaftliche Bereiche nachzuweisen, die nicht im engeren Sinne wirtschaftlich zu nennen sind.”

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1.3. Approaching a Definition and Methodology for Understanding the Economy and Economic Structures of Ancient Israel 1.3. Approaching a Definition and Methodology

Conceiving a definition and methodological approach for the economics of ancient Israel/Palestine – ultimately focused on the early Second Temple period in this project – requires stepping into the minefields of philosophic and economic discourses raging into the present day.36 I intend here to provide an overview of the issues involved in rendering the economic situation of ancient Yehud meaningful for a modern audience. This goal requires a basic introduction to some concepts used in modern economic analysis and to the debates and concerns involved in the study of ancient economics. This goal carries with it several inherent problems, the first of which is that all modern attempts to understand ancient economic structures and systems do so with the intention of using such understanding for modern purposes and from the starting point of modern experience. This well-known problem of the situated nature of knowledge is further complicated by the kinds of data available from the ancient Near East and ancient Israel-Palestine in particular. 1.3.1. Definitions of ‘Economics’ and ‘Value’ Ultimately, definitions and discussions of economics concern the nature of value. Specifically, what values are given to various material and immaterial entities and how these entities are maintained, used, given, and received. The first works entitled ῏Οικονομια ‘Economics, the art of household management,’ of Aristotle and Xenophon appear in ca. the 4th century BCE However, unlike modern economics, they mix economic far more with general philosophic reasoning than classical or neo-classical economics analysis.37 The type of reflection found in the ancient works, which has once again become important within the field of economics itself and will be addressed below, is more readily classified today as economic sociology or economic anthropology.38 For Aristotle, for example, money was valuable only to the extent that it served the ultimate well-being of a person.39 When it served to a person’s detriment, its value declined. 36

Keith Hopkins, “Introduction,” in Trade in the Ancient Economy, ed. P. Garnsey, K. Hopkins, and C. R. Whittaker (London: Chatto and Windus, 1983), ix, begins by stating, “The ancient economy is an academic battleground.” 37 Joseph Alois Schumpeter, History of Economic Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 1954), 53–54. 38 Tomáš Sedláček, Economics of Good and Evil: The Quest for Economic Meaning from Gilgamesh to Wall Street (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); Susana Narotzky, New Directions in Economic Anthropology (London: Pluto Press, 1997). 39 Oeconomica.

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Modern economic analysis approaches value differently, presupposing that value, when defined economically, is inherently good. This way of thinking first appears, according to one well-recognized economist, in the seventeenth century with the rise of real analysis: “It proceeds from the principle that all the essential phenomena of economic life are capable of being described in terms of goods and services, of decisions about them, and of relations between them.”40 The fundamental concern shifts from anthropology (“value to humans”) to analysis of economic structures and performance. The Nobel laureate in economics Amartya Sen provides analysis that draws near to this fundamental question in economics on how to define value: “[Adam] Smith uses the term ‘real price’ as synonymous with ‘value’, and defines it in terms of labour. Labour commanded by commodities [italics mine] in the market is supposed to be the measure of the values of different commodities ‘at all times and at all places’.”41 The philosophical separation of trade and money from theology or philosophy allowed for the development separating value from morality to take place can be understood as resulting. This is easily demonstrated through the fact that Adam Smith’s academic appointment was actually in moral philosophy! These considerations became governmental policy in the form of mercantilism.42 A second impulse was the Smith’s attempt to locate the basis for trade in an empirically-based matrix, divesting of theological foundations, now based in science. Natural law and logic became primary. With an even more negative view of religion and its role in economics, Marx countered by locating value in the labor needed for producing [italics mine] a commodity, thus unconnected to demand (price consumers would be willing to pay) or commodities, though now in some ways closer to anthropology. Marx’s analysis has been related to ancient societies – and ancient Israel – to explain the centralized control of the means of production (and in my structure, the designation of value) under the power of the kings and priests. In this type of analysis, value is seen as wrongly separated from the labor needed to produce the goods, such that kings and elites stood in a position to enjoy the difference between keeping workers (generally) alive and producing, and the added value of the goods they produced.43 Returning to developments within capitalist thinking, “marginalist economics” relocates the determination of value from the production of a good to its consumption. According to this perspective, what something is worth is unrelated to the

40

Schumpeter, History of Economic Analysis, 277. A. K. Dasgupta, Epochs of Economic Theory, 5th ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987), 22. 42 Richard R. Wilk, Economies and Cultures: Foundations of Economic Anthropology, 2d. ed. (Boulder, CO.: Westview, 2007), 50–51. 43 This is what would be termed an “exploitative” economic regime by Roland Boer (see below). 41

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labor or material outlay taken to produce it, but rather to the demand for the good or service – its utility.44 This brief overview of the journey made by the term “value” in the discipline of economics displays the difficulty in making use of it for biblical and ancient studies. Yet because “value” is central – if not assumed – for current economics, economic reflection in the ancient world will also circle around this pole. Modern economics has also taken the further step, especially connected to the emphasis on economics in political and social discussion, of redefining ‘good’ in economic terms, resulting in the hope that economists could develop a science to further the ‘good’ of society. Models, especially in terms of gathering great amounts of mathematical data, as attempts to understand present functioning and to prognosticate future activity are manifold. While my presentation of this phenomenon is quite simplistic, a number of economists have noted the crushing burden put upon them. The problem with current economics, Wilk describes as follows: When economists do use real data about the world in their studies, they tend to depend almost entirely on aggregate statistics produced by official government sources. Andrew Kamark, after working at the World Bank for twenty-six years, concluded in 1983 that most of these official figures and measurements were not accurate enough for use in any kind of calculation. When they were added or multiplied, their individual errors were compounded, leading to numbers that could not be used even for comparison, much less prediction.45

His anecdote is supported by Sedláček, who describes economists as the modern-day prophets. Remaining in the modern period, significant questions arise even here with regard to the validity of the classical-neoclassical orthodoxy with regard to economics. Sen, to name a well-known example, identifies one basic economic debate in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century in terms of “ethicsrelated” versus “engineering” economics.46 Sen attempts to bring in a question often pushed to the margins in classical economic discussion. He defines the latter as “… characterized by being concerned with primarily logistic issues rather than with ultimate ends and such questions as what may foster ‘the good of man’ or ‘how should one live’. The ends [in ‘engineering’ economics] are taken as fairly straightforwardly given, and the object of the exercise is to find

44 Dasgupta, Epochs of Economic Theory, 84–85. He continues (ibid., 85): “Utility, on the other hand, resides in the minds of individuals; its association with prices is only a hypothesis. It is indeed a hypothesis, not verifiable, that prices of commodities correspond to their relative marginal utility. Although, therefore, utility can be plausibly offered as a property of value, it hardly lends itself to treatment as a determinant of value.” 45 Wilk, Economies and Cultures, 75. 46 Sen’s approach may be taken to parallel K. Polanyi’s substantialist perspective that will be addressed below.

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the appropriate means to serve them.” This tradition is displayed in the marginal economics found in works from William Stanley Jevons to John Maynard Keynes during the late 1800s and 1900s. Jevons, one of the key innovators of marginalist economics, for example, argues: “The problem of economics may be stated as thus: ‘Given a certain population, with various goods and other sources of materials: required, the mode of employing their labour which will maximise the utility of the produce.’”47 This approach is concerned with (some of) the important nuts and bolts of how an economy functions – viewing it in some ways as a machine – following the mechanical foundations put in place by Smith and noted above. This machine model, however, lies at the heart of the problem. Taking Jevons again as an example of classical economics, he does not provide a definition of ‘utility’ (a concept closely identified with ‘good’): yet how one defines this term is essential for determining the methods and directions to be chosen. Ethics-related economics in the sense supported by Sen instead follows Aristotle (thus placing the discussion back in the Persian period!) in the concern for subordinating economics to the pursuit of the good of humankind.48 The difference lies in the purpose and aims of the discipline, especially in terms of what is defined as “good”: the increase of the “good of humanity” or the increase of “overall wealth.”49 Both of these perspectives can have some bearing on my project. Ethics-related economics provides help in opening up the perspectives in the biblical texts, which are unquestionably concerned with ethics, especially when ethics is defined along the lines of “moral imagination” or narrative ethics.50 When broadened to consider economics as an attempt to increase the “good of humanity” along the lines of Aristotle, then the general purpose of economics is under debate. This is also the question that I submit is central for the focus on theological-communal economics in the book(s) of Ezra-Nehemiah, as well as in other Persian period biblical texts. They place the emphasis of their use of economic thinking and terminology in the framework of what is “good” for the community. In terms of theology proper, the biblical texts consider specific economic roles for God. In terms of human economic practice and economic structures, Nehemiah describes various roles for 47

From The Theory of Political Economy (4th ed.), 267, quoted in Dasgupta, Epochs of Economic Theory, 77. 48 Amartya Kumar Sen, On Ethics and Economics, The Royer Lectures (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987), 2–3. 49 Unexpectedly to me, Sen shows how Adam Smith was not simply concerned with economic efficiency on the basis of self-love as is often assumed, see ibid., 23–24. An easily accessible reprisal of Smith’s economics in relation to his moral philosophy appears in Sedláček, Economics of Good and Evil. 50 I have in mind here the approaches taken by Houston, Contending for Justice; and Martha C. Nussbaum, Love’s Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990).

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economics that have negative or positive effects on the community, thus the question of what is “good” for the Judean society. What orthodox economics seem to assume is that “everything has its price” and can, therefore, be commoditized in one way or another. It remains a question, however, to what extent such a view is reductionist of human society.51 A common thread running through Sen’s reasoning and the paragraphs above is the importance of non-economic cultural or ideological factors for economic analysis itself. His argumentation helps in bringing in external factors – one might call them “non-machinelike” factors – that are meant to define and limit (or broaden as the case may be) the scope of important and determining elements in an economy. These comments serve as an introduction to a number of global factors in economics relevant for the economics of postexilic Yehud and the texts originating from that era, especially the importance of human culture and theological reflection. Such neo-classical approaches have never occupied central stage in biblical texts, nor in secondary literature. Furthermore, such an approach to economics (the orthodox, neoclassical view) remains contentious, given its ongoing difficulty in explaining a considerable amount of actual economic experience, especially for the distant past.52 Thus the question arises as to how much of current economic thought can be applied to these ancient contexts. Considerations of GDP (Gross Domestic Product) become increasingly difficult when at least two of the three terms – “national” and “product” – are debated. Can one speak of ancient societies in terms of nations? How can gift-exchange, for example, be quantified in terms of “product”? There are, then, various attempts in modern scholarship to improve or modify the goals of (neo-) classical economics, and some offer particular relevance to the study of economics in ancient societies. These approaches propose the inclusion of cultural elements that influence the factors of choice and rationality, held to be some of, if not the basic insights and premises for economics as a discipline. This critique is also well known for ancient economics in the thinking of K. Polanyi, whose reflections with be considered below. 1.3.2. Current Approaches to Ancient Economics: Modernist, Marxist, and Substantivist Analysis Within the very cursory and broad comments on the discipline of economics, the discussion now begins to narrow the focus by turning to the various economic theories and structures postulated for the ancient Near East. There is no

51 I will argue below that this is in fact the perspective offered in the divinely prepared feast in Isa 55:1–5. 52 Cf. Douglass C. North, Structure and Change in Economic History (New York: Norton, 1981).

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way to formulate the manner in which the biblical texts interact with their economic environment without addressing the nature of this economic environment. The hermeneutical circle of reconstructing the economic structures of ancient society and attempting (simultaneously) to interpret ancient texts in light of these economic structures must be entered. The scholarly discussions of ancient Near Eastern economies may be categorized in three general camps – Marxist, substantivist (or the related primitivist), and modernist (or the related formalist).53 Taking these models together, it is also the case that – quite fitting with models in general – the applicability of the model relates significantly to one’s starting point. If one investigates control of the means of production (Marxist), then one tends towards a different conclusion than if one begins with the social mechanisms involved in distribution (substantivist). When reflecting on economic growth, then modernist analysis is helpful.54 Thus there is room to figure out ways to overlap and integrate these theoretical approaches. The substantivist position, generally identified with Karl Polanyi, developed around the middle of the twentieth century as a critique of the use of modern categories and modern economic positivism.55 Specifically, substantivist analysis posits the lack of widespread depersonalized trade, especially on a local level. Polanyi and his followers instead seek to locate economics embedded within the larger matrix of social relations.56 Polanyi himself sums it up as follows: The outstanding discovery of recent historical and anthropological research is that man’s economy, as a rule, is submerged in his social relationships. He does not act so as to safeguard his individual interest in the possession of material goods; he acts so as to safeguard his social standing, his social claims, his social assets. He values material goods only in so far as they serve this end.57

Polanyi and the substantivists provide a significant service to modern understandings of ancient economic systems in reminding modern readers of a cer-

53 Cf. Marc van de Mieroop, “Economic Theories and the Ancient Near East,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 54–64. 54 Cf. Anne Goddeeris, Economy and Society in Northern Babylonia in the Early Old Babylonian Period (ca. 2000–1800 BC), OLA 109 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 311. 55 Narotzky, New Directions in Economic Anthropology, 2–3. 56 Daniel B. Fusfeld, “Economic Theory Misplaced: Livelihood in Primitive Society,” in Trade and Market in the Early Empires Economies in History and Theory (New York: The Free Press, 1957), 343. 57 Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time, 2nd Beacon Paperback ed. (Boston: Beacon, 2001), 46.

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tain paradigm shift that has taken place in modern Western and capitalist-oriented societies: economics was typically seen as part of the larger social and political systems, rather than functioning as a prime mover underpinning these systems and operating at the level of the individual. A further service comes in the categories of reciprocal, redistributional, and market exchange structures for economic movement of goods. In terms of matching the facts on the ground with models, Polanyi’s contention that there were no markets in the ancient Near East and therefore no commercial mode of production has proved false. For instance, his understanding does not even explain the economics of the silver accounts from the Ur III period.58 There was also a move away from the hermetically-sealed redistribution systems of earlier temple economies by Mesopotamian temples. In the Neo-Babylonian and later eras, wages were typically paid, not rations. Temple dependents had to buy (with silver) or trade (usually barley or dates) in order to acquire essentials. Furthermore, even millennia earlier at the Assyrian outpost Kanesh in Anatolia, profit can be observed as a motivation for private investment and risk taking, so socially-embedded trade was not even the whole story at that point. Nonetheless, Polanyi’s overall approach, incorporating a diversity of modes of exchange, continues to function as an important operative model for some Assyriologists and Hebrew Bible scholars as well.59 What it does well is to de-center economics from the lofty position accorded it in modern neo-classical analysis, taking more of ancient reality into view. Furthermore, it is more helpful given the dearth of the hard data needed for real analysis of the economic systems and their performance in ancient times. The most ready-at-hand framework from current human experience, that to which substantivism reacted, is the “modernist” position. It is, however, is also the least represented, at least directly, in biblical and ancient Near Eastern scholarship. Its most prolific proponent in recent decades is Morris Silver, who brings a modern economics background to his studies. This view argues for the use of modern Western (and capitalist) economic categories in the analysis of the ancient societies. For example, Silver proposes, “… even rudimentary knowledge of modern economic analysis is capable of enhancing our understanding of ancient societies.”60 While this statement is true as far as it goes, 58 Daniel C. Snell, Ledgers and Prices: Early Mesopotamian Merchant Accounts, Yale Near Eastern researches 8 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1982), 188. 59 Cf. 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, AOAT 377 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2010), 20–21. 60 Morris Silver, “Modern Ancients,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 65.

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Silver argues for understanding ancient actors as having made decisions according to principles of economic efficiency. Furthermore, texts are interpreted as showing that prices and actual interest rates fluctuated in accordance with modern market mechanisms.61 Guillaume’s monograph, Land, Credit and Crisis, also incorporates modernist tendencies. For example, arguing against the typical scholarly view of indebtedness, he states: “permanent over-indebtedness’” (Kessler 2006: 120) seen as characteristic of the situation of biblical farmers from the eighth century bce until Nehemiah has in fact always been the norm, even more so today, and that it constitutes the mark of a healthy economy rather than the sign of a structural crisis.62

In his analysis, debt is an important sign of a well-functioning system, not of a crisis. I find it important to recognize the underlying tone of these positions – also on display in Jursa’s monumental analysis of Babylonia below: the focus is more on how the machine works, rather than on the exploitation of certain groups. Or, similarly, the focus is on the maximizing behavior within a particular established state structure rather than on the predatory nature of the state.63 The modernist approach certainly has a degree of justification from the textual evidence. The related formalist position, however, is more difficult to defend for the ancient Near East and the Levant. This theory maintains that the economy had its own separate sphere and logic in the ancient world, just as it does in the modern world.64 It may be that Polanyi’s attempt to relegate all trade in the ancient Near East to realms of palace administrated trade or the like has failed,65 thus underscoring the importance of market-type thinking and analysis. As Dandamayev quips: “Any doubts as to the existence of a market economy in first-millennium Babylonia thus are groundless. What remains to 61

Note the summary of underlying principles in Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 33–34. 62 Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 121–22. 63 Cf. North, Structure and Change in Economic History, 22. 64 Michael Jursa, “Grundzüge der Wirtschaftsformen Babyloniens im ersten Jahrtausend v.Chr.,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 128. I am defining “formalism” in accord with the position of Eduard Meyer in the famous Bücher-Meyer debate on the nature of the economy in antiquity that took place around 1900. For a short overview, see Peter F. Bang, “Antiquity between ‘Primitivism’ and ‘Modernism’” (Centre for Cultural Research, University of Aarhus, 1997), http://www.hum.au.dk/ckulturf/pages/ publications/pfb/antiquity.htm. 65 Karl Polanyi, “Marketless Trading in Hammurabi’s Time,” in Trade and Market in the Early Empires Economies in History and Theory, ed. K. Polanyi (New York: Free Press, 1957), 12–26.

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be clarified, however, is how decisive the market system was within the overall economy.”66 There is little to support an independent economic realm: the ancient texts I am addressing reveal that economic rationality is a variable rather than basic assumption.67 It might be argued, however, that one way in which the two sides are not mutually exclusive is that the substantivist (or primitivist) position focuses on societies as wholes, while formalist (or modernist) analysis is concerned with individual behavior within a society.68 The contours of the overall debate have been rehearsed in detail by others, and though it has not been resolved with any finality, scholarly discourse has both profited from and also left behind the once hotly-discussed questions. Turning to the third classical theoretical framework, one may begin to explain Marxist analysis by showing the features it shares with the substantivist position.69 First, as on display in Boer’s formulation, both see the modern capitalist economy as a decidedly different economic system for that found in the ancient Near East.70 Second, there can be trade and market elements without implying a full-blown market system, such as commodification. Where such a Marxist approach differs from substantivists, however, is in its contention that the economic level is the most important for an adequate understanding of ancient history, for example, Boer’s claim: “Let me make things quite clear: the most viable historiography for the Ancient Near East is one that deals in terms of economics.”71 While I do not follow a Marxist approach because it reduces far too much of human reality and motivations to the economic plane,72 Boer has made an incisive observation for ancient Near Eastern economics in general, and ancient Judah and Persian period Yehud in particular: these economic systems are best

66

Muhammad A. Dandamaev, “An Age of Privatization in Ancient Mesopotamia,” in Privatization in the Ancient Near East and Classical World, ed. M. Hudson and B. A. Levine (Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, 1996), 208. 67 Cf. Jursa, “Grundzüge der Wirtschaftsformen Babyloniens im ersten Jahrtausend v.Chr.,” 128. 68 Wilk, Economies and Cultures, 13; Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 19–20, n. 81 comments: “This supposed dichotomy will not be taken up in the following discussion; it is not a heuristically fruitful distinction. There is no doubt that the behaviour of the agents in all ancient economies was socially conditioned … the same is true for modern economies.” 69 Mieroop, “Economic Theories and the Ancient Near East.” 70 This discussion generally follows Roland Boer, “The Sacred Economy of Ancient ‘Israel,’” SJOT 21 (2007): 29–48 and his recent volume, The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2015). 71 Boer, “The Sacred Economy of Ancient ‘Israel,’” 34. 72 I am not sure how an economic explanation is the most viable sort for the mass of literature arising from the Babylonian Exile.

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understood in terms of a “sacred economics.” Boer explains what he means by this as follows: This language of the sacred, speaking of everything with reference to Yahweh or God or whoever, is the language of this world-view. It is the code in which everything makes sense, to which everything refers. This means that not only are the gods attributed with the powers of production – of land, wombs, seasons, rains and so on – but they are also the ones who allocate, who are at the center of each regime of allocation. Thus Yahweh, Asshur or Marduk chooses a people, allocates them land (more to the tyrant and his apparatchiks and less to others), opens and closes wombs, calls the war machine into action and is responsible for its successes and failures, determines kinship structures and the modes of patron-client relations, and establishes and sanctions the collection of tribute (tithe) in the temple.73

What Boer does quite effectively is to remain close to the texture of the literature, developing a more emic approach (at least with regard to the superstructure). The “political economy” plays a less direct role, given that theo-logy (here understood as “discourse of divinity”) dominates the discourses of economic realms. Nonetheless, in keeping with much of Marxist analysis, Boer, too, reduces the state to extractive (predatory) practices that are, in the end, only negative. His recent extensive volume on the topic explores both the underlying framework for his approach (Régulation Theory), the agricultural basis for economics in the ancient Near East, and a separation of his categories of allocative and extractive economic regimes.74 The allocative institutional forms consists of kinship-households and patronage, while the extractive are state-estates on the one hand, and tribute-exchange on the other. These broad basic categories describe the overarching or dominating regimes at any one time, which will often contain pockets of the other regimes as well. Boer locates the Persian Empire in the “tribute-exchange” category, along with the other major empires of the first millennium: Assyria and Babylon. Though he does acknowledge some variation, he seems the move from (Neo-Assyrian) plunder to (Persian) tribute as a superficial change. He argues, “…the Persians were no less violent than the infamous Neo-Assyrians, but they were far more systematic, sophisticated, and covert in the way they deployed that violence.”75 While there is certainly some truth to the fact that power was exerted – sometimes violently – in all three of these empires, Boer’s attempt to lump them together as extractive in such a way that the subjugated lands cannot flourish76 runs into problems with the multitude of economic tablets from Babylonia and Neh 13 that point in a different direction. Trade in bulk commodities 73

Boer, “The Sacred Economy of Ancient ‘Israel,’” 43 (italics original). For a longer discussion, see my review of The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel, by Roland Boer, JHebS 16 (2016), forthcoming. 75 Boer, Sacred Economy, 151. 76 Ibid., 170. 74

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takes off during the Persian period, indicating that the stability of the Persian Empire allows for economic growth. A brief comment should be accorded the so-called “world systems” approach that builds on Marxist analysis. This perspective, developed initially by I. Wallerstein, argues that the primary distinction between the capitalism developed in Europe from 1500 CE onward and all non-Western and modern societies lies in the modern West’s trade system, which is “…based on a structural priority given and sustained for the ceaseless accumulation of capital.”77 M. Coomber has adopted a modified version of this theoretical approach and applied it to prophetic texts.78 Such an interpretation of the economics of antiquity requires redefinition of many of the terms used in economic analysis, such as the broadening of the idea of “capital” or an historical-materialist (i.e., Marxist) reduction of ideology, culture, or religion to the superficial overlay of political-economic causes.79 I do not find this perspective compelling for the extant texts from the Old Testament or ancient Near East, given that it suggests a deep level of control over peripheral regions by the large Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Empires hardly possible with the technology of the time.80 Ascribing to this theory only works when dealing with the economies of the Levant or broader Near East in a cursory fashion. The details do not support it. Another basic theoretical issue that arises in response to Boer’s Marxist approach should also be considered. The role of the state presents one important presuppositionary question for conceptions of economic history. Especially Marxist-influenced scholars have broached the implicit question of the underlying nature of the state and the use of power. Lenski’s classic work, Power and Privilege, helps to frame this issue by differentiating between two camps: “conservatives” and “radicals.” One of the main disagreements he sees between them are their views on the use of political power and law: “… Radicals have commonly regarded both as instruments of oppression employed by the ruling classes for their own benefit. Conservatives have seen them as organs of the total society, acting basically to promote the common good.81 This conflict appears vividly in Marxist economic analysis that displays a basic mistrust of the 77

Immanuel Wallerstein, “World System Versus World-Systems: A Critique,” in The World System: Five Hundred Years or Five Thousand? ed. A. G. Frank and B. K. Gills (London: Routledge, 1993), 292. 78 Coomber, Re-Reading the Prophets, esp. 77–134. For a longer critique of this approach, see my “Review of Re-Reading the Prophets.” 79 Just such a move is made in the attempt to broaden world systems analysis to include the ancient Near East in Barry K. Gills and André Gunder Frank, “The Cumulation of Accumulation,” in The World System: Five Hundred Years or Five Thousand?, ed. A. G. Frank and B. K. Gills (London: Routledge, 1993), 81–114. 80 Note also the critiques in Boer, Sacred Economy, 22–23. 81 Gerhard Lenski, Power and Privilege: A Theory of Social Stratification, McGraw-Hill series in sociology (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966), 23. Elsewhere (ibid, 16–17) he states:

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state. Such perspectives view the state as an instrument used by the empowered groups to protect and further their interests (extraction) by attempting to provide some sort of stable regime that solidifies their advantage.82 I find the “both/and” proposals found in Paul Ricœur’s Lectures on Ideology and Utopia more persuasive. He argues, contra Marx, for example, that not all projections of the positive role of the state are simply ideologies making attempts at legitimation and grabbing for power. Instead, Ricœur invokes the category of “utopia,” which parallels, and, in many ways, equals ideology in casting a vision for society, attempting to push society in a particular positive direction. In fact, by either name, a vision for society is never actually attained; the vision as “ideology” suppresses truth, while the vision as “utopia” highlights problems in the concrete society and inspires change. Because of this gap between reality and projection, most visions for a perfect society can be used (as a utopia) to call the status quo into question. As such, a vision serves simultaneously as an ambivalent supporter and detractor within a given society.83 The reason for taking this short detour into political philosophy is to suggest that there is both space for discussing the use and abuse of power inherent in the political-economic structuring of Persian period Yehud, while also allowing for other, both cultural and economic, dynamics that are not simply concerned with political-economic power and its structure to be both at work and not simply a superstructure intended to hide political-economic will. One recent attempt to move beyond this debate is found in the wide-reaching discussions of the Neo-Babylonian and Persian period Mesopotamian economy by M. Jursa. He sees two overlapping but distinct spheres in the economy of Babylonia in the Persian and immediately surrounding periods: his “commercialization model” combines the temple-based “rentiers” on the one hand and the profit-oriented “entrepreneurs” on the other. What this model tends to omit is significant interaction with the royal sphere. This omission is not without “Conflict theorists, as their name suggests, see social inequality as arising out of the struggle for valued goods and services in short supply. Where functionalists emphasize the common interests shared by the members of a society, conflict theorists emphasize the interests which divide. Where functionalist stress the common advantages which accrue from social relationships, conflict theorists emphasize the element of domination and exploitation. Where functionalists emphasize consensus as the basis of social unity, conflict theorists emphasize coercion. Where functionalists see human societies as social systems, conflict theorists see them as stages on which struggles for power and privilege take place.” In this constellation, the “radicals” are the “conflict theorists” and the “conservatives” are the “functionalists.” 82 See Boer, Sacred Economy, 6:“I understand the state as the result of intractable class conflict, the machinery of which is the seized by one class and turned into an instrument of its own agenda.” Cf. ibid., 31–38. 83 Paul Ricœur, Lectures on Ideology and Utopia, ed. G. Taylor (New York: Columbia University Press, 1986), 1–17; 310–13.

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justification: there is little royal presence in the cuneiform texts from the archives in Mesopotamia. It thus bases itself on the extant evidence, though one may question whether or not it would be wiser to still hypothesize the nature and extent of a distinct royal economic sphere, given the Persian royal residence in Babylon, the Greek tales of provision for the Persian royal entourage, as well as royal estates (i.e., En Gedi).84 This model also omits discussion of the relationship between economic functioning and power relationships. It therefore espouses a more positive view of economic structures that were in place. Jursa’s analysis thus includes “protocapitalist” or modernist-like overtones in that he identifies a particular group as “entrepreneurs.” These individuals are attested by multitudinous administrative records as engaging in trade for profit. Thus, the “market” that Polanyi ruled out for pre-capitalist societies is quite present. Furthermore, neither did the Babylonian temples display an extensively redistributive economy during this period either: they often paid oblates in a single type of agricultural good that the receivers then needed to trade (i.e., as a commodity) to meet their needs for other items. Nonetheless, Jursa does not suggest that trade at the markets of Nippur was the same as the modern West. There is room, apparently, in his formulation for distinctly human cultural guidelines on the ancient economy. Furthermore, Jursa seems to avoid any large-scale comparisons that might suggest a “worldsystems” type approach. Similarities can be found in L. Stager’s “port-power theory,” which fits between the modernist and substantivist approach.85 His analysis of Ashkelon, also developed further by D. Master, is based primarily on the material culture that has emerged from their own spade work. Their identification of wholesale and retail market stalls in Ashkelon could propose a significant change in thinking about the ancient Levantine economy. Master notes, however, that the differences between maritime and land economies must be observed.86 As a result, like Jursa’s conclusions for Babylonia, a differentiated model allowing for different modes of economic exchange fits best with the evidence. In Stager and Master’s approach, the port cities dominated international trade, and foreign 84

On En Gedi, see Oded Lipschits and Oren Tal, “The Settlement Archaeology of the Province of Judah: A Case Study,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E, ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and R. Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 34. 85 Lawrence E. Stager, “Port Power in the Early and the Middle Bronze Age: The Organization of Maritime Trade and Hinterland Production,” in Studies in the Archaeology of Israel and Neighboring Lands in Memory of Douglas L. Esse, ed. S. R. Wolff, SAOC 59 (Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2001), 625–38; Daniel M. Master and Lawrence E. Stager, “Buy Low Sell High: The Marketplace at Ashkelon,” BAR 40 (2014): 36–47, 69; Daniel M. Master, “Trade and Politics: Ashkelon’s Balancing Act in the Seventh Century B. C. E.,” BASOR 330 (2003): 47–64. 86 Master, “Trade and Politics,” 47–49.

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cultures (Phoenician) influenced these cities, but the influence did not extend significantly beyond the city.87 On the whole, these brief investigations reveal vastly different theoretical structures and presuppositions for addressing the textual and material data available. As a result, every study of the data necessarily retains and promotes one of, or a combination of, the various theoretical frameworks. 1.3.3. A Way Forward: New Institutional Economics An approach that could provide a helpful supplement to these established and modified approaches lies in the thinking of the “New Institutional Economics,” identified with the work of Douglass North and Eric Jones.88 They begin their attempt to reconstruct and evaluate economic history from a neoclassical basis and proceed by adding cultural and social factors, thereby infusing neoclassical economics with something like Polanyian constraints.89 In order to lay out their understanding, a few definitions are first in order. North offers a starting point for his approach to “economics” and “economic history”: I take it as the task of economic history to explain the structure and performance of economies through time. By “performance” I have in mind the typical concerns of economists – for example, how much is produced, the distribution of costs and benefits, or the stability of production. The primary emphasis in explaining performance is on total output, output per capita, and the distribution of income of the society. By “structure” I mean those characteristics of a society which we believe to be the basic determinants of performance. Here I include the political and economic institutions, technology, demography, and ideology of a society.90

They are, then, interested in two aspects: structure and performance. Performance requires identification of what is produced, who produces it, and who benefits from the production. This includes speculation on per capita output and on distribution of income, therefore demographics is important. Also underlying performance is also the structural element of the society’s approach to property rights: who controls the goods and services produced, especially the surplus (in Marxist terminology). An important addition to the many investigations of economics is the introduction of the element of change factors and those possible interests that seek 87

Stager, “Port Power in the Early and the Middle Bronze Age,” 635. An earlier version of this section was presented at the EABS conference in Leipzig, Germany, July, 2013 and published as “Ancient Comparisons, Modern Models, and EzraNehemiah: Triangulating the Sources for Insights on the Economy of Persian Period Yehud,” in The Economy of Ancient Judah in its Historical Context, ed. M. L. Miller, E. Ben Zvi, and G. N. Knoppers (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 103–20. 89 Though they distance themselves from Polanyi; see North, Structure and Change in Economic History, 42. 90 Ibid., 3. 88

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to hinder economic development (i.e., factors that do not have economic growth in their best interest). In terms of identifying an economy’s development or change, North holds up four possible triggers: changes in population, in technology, in property rights, and in the governmental control of resources.91 It is important to note that these factors lie outside typical classical or neoclassical economic analysis; that is, they are usually pushed to the margin so that the economist can analyze the system when those factors are held constant. Yet throughout history these decisive factors do not remain the same. In Persian period Yehud and the Persian period texts of the Old Testament, several of these factors develop considerably. No decisive technological developments take place during this time: the move to iron tools and weapons was already distant past, and neither pottery nor building techniques change significantly (though the “Four-Room House” does disappear). However, it can be argued that the population changed dramatically, property rights systems were proposed in various writings, and the Persian governmental system may have changed its tax policies and control of land. The question of real property rights is basic, given the predominance of agriculture (While this is obvious on one level, the focus of the primitive-modernist debate and Marxist thought often circle around industrial production). NIE manages to capitalize on several strengths of both the neoclassical modernist and the Polanyian substantivist schools of thought, with the intention of consolidating and moving forward theoretically.92 As an economist, North’s work exudes a certain trust in philosophically “conservative” neo-classical economics. This trust is balanced, however, by his frustration with the inability of classical economics to explain key issues in economic history.93 And, like most economists with an interest in economic history, he hopes to understand past economic change in order to come up with a predictive model for the present in order to help modern economies grow. Nonetheless, his basic answer – note the similarity with the substantivists whom he also critiques heavily94 – is 91 Douglass C. North, Understanding the Process of Economic Change, Princeton economic history of the western world (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 84–85. 92 I am not the first to suggest the helpfulness of this school of thought for the ancient Mediterranean: several recent works in the study of economics in Classical studies draw on his work: cf. Peter F. Bang, “The Ancient Economy and New Institutional Economics: Review of W. Scheidel et al. ‘The Cambridge Economic History of the Greco-Roman World,’” JRS 99 (2009): 194–206; Walter Scheidel, Ian Morris, and Richard Saller, eds., The Cambridge Economic History of the Greco-Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). 93 North, Understanding the Process of Economic Change, viii. His primary interest is in the question, “Why do economies change?” 94 North, Structure and Change in Economic History, 42. He states: “Polanyi made a market synonymous with a price-making market. It should be readily apparent, however, that any form of voluntary contractual exchange involves a market and that its form will be dictated by the considerations advanced above. Polanyi made a basic error in thinking that

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“Economic change, therefore, is for the most part a deliberate process shaped by the perceptions of the actors about the consequences of their actions.”95 Human points of view – that is culture – plays a profound role.96 Second, as the name suggests, NIE is interested in the institutions that set the perimeters for human economic action: “Institutions are a set of rules, compliance procedures, and moral and ethical behavioral norms designed to constrain the behavior of individuals in the interests of maximizing the wealth or utility of principals.”97 This premise addresses some of the classic problems for neo-classical economics, such as the so-called “free-rider problem”: why people often choose to follow customs and laws when it is not in their personal best interest;98 and factors that keep economies from growing, e.g., states working against economic growth. His key insight here is bound up in the notion of “transaction costs.” This concept goes far beyond transportation, also including a complex notion of the state, which can be seen as both an asset in providing stability, and a liability in its extraction of rents. While it is a movement coming from inside economics, I understand these developments to coincide with a number of points found in the sociological and hermeneutical analyses above in the works of Bourdieu and Ricœur. Institutions, property rights, and customs are the domain of Bourdieu’s habitus and Ricœur’s ideology.99 NIE as a model brings modernist insights into a somewhat “substantivist,” or, perhaps better, “Weberian” framework where all economic action is embedded.100 For the Persian period southern Levant, we have little data on economic quantification, but the texts and material culture allow the positing of economic structures. Viewed from this perspective, NIE also offers categories for the broader institutional – both political and cultural – perimeters that nonetheless include space for considering active individual or family responses within these structures to work towards economic prosperity. any deviation from the Agora-type market implied non-economizing behavior: even the era which, in The Great Transformation (1957), he regarded as the epitome of the market mentality was characterized by an enormous variety of contractual arrangements that were not price-making markets. Two considerations militated against the existence of price-making markets before the 6th century b.c. One was the transaction costs considerations that have been the subject of this chapter; the second was the wealth-maximizing objectives of the rulers of the state.” 95 North, Understanding the Process of Economic Change, viii. 96 Cf. ibid., 23. He states: “If all choices were simple, were made frequently, had substantial and rapid feedback, and involved substantial motivation, then substantive rationality would suffice for all purposes. The rationality assumption would be both a predictive and a descriptive model of equilibrium settings …” 97 North, Structure and Change in Economic History, 201–2. 98 Ibid., 10–11. 99 I have not found any interaction on the part of those in NIE with Bourdieau or Ricœur. 100 Bang, “The Ancient Economy and New Institutional Economics,” 196.

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According to the perspective of NIE, especially as formulated by Jones, there were always entrepreneurial individuals in society, that is, those that were not satisfied with the status quo and took efforts to improve their lot. In fact, there was ongoing economic expansion throughout the history of the world (over the long term), but it has not always been intensive growth, meaning increase in per capita (per person) wealth. Nonetheless, there has been extensive growth, simply because more humans have been supported. These two observations combine in Jones’ view to imply that societies are inclined toward growth unless there are too many factors holding them back.101 Before turning to these economic developments, it is appropriate to delve into the nature of economic performance and structure in the prior periods, including the cultural (theological and ideological) perspectives that always play decisive roles in actual human society as well.

101 Eric L. Jones, Growth Recurring: Economic Change in World History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 40.

Chapter 2

The Traditionally Royal Role of Economics in Mesopotamia 2. The Traditionally Royal Role of Economics in Mesopotamia

This second chapter lays out a very broad backdrop with regard to economics and economic reflection that were known throughout the ancient Near East. While mentioned above, one might questioned the necessity of beginning as far back as the third millennium BCE, when the intent of my larger investigation is on the Persian period? My rationale for beginning so early is as follows: the considerably traditional nature of the literature of the Old Testament gives rise to the importance of understanding the warp and woof of its traditions. The intention of conceptualizing the way that economics – a basic fact of every society – is woven into the particular construction of Persian Yehud’s society and texts requires understanding the traditional formulation of economics in its culture and texts. In detail, the narrative (Ezra, Nehemiah, Chronicles), prophetic (Haggai, Deutero-Isaiah), and legal (“Holiness Code”) traditions of the Persian period rely considerably on their preexilic predecessors such as First Isaiah, Amos, the Covenant Code, and Deuteronomy. Yet comprehension of the conception of economics in these preexilic works require a look at their ancient Near Eastern predecessors. The pentateuchal legal material calls for investigation of especially the Mesopotamian legal traditions. The depictions of economic issues in preexilic prophetic and historical texts build on an understanding of this same conception of economics appearing in the Mesopotamian legal material and in other royal inscriptions such as annals. Therefore, the discussion of these legal traditions and glances at annalistic literature provide a deep window into the conceptual approach to economics in the ancient Near East. To preview my conclusion, the legal treatises, debt-release proclamations, and excerpts from annalistic texts show the profoundly royal focus of economic questions in ancient Near Eastern perspectives. The divine-royal nexus of power provided the foundation and conduit for economic flourishing. In fact, in many ways the attempt to project the ideology of royal justice and divine favor overwhelms the connections between economic statements in the texts and the realities experienced by subjects. This dominant conception of the royal-divine nexus also appears as a central cornerstone for economic formulations outside the legal traditions as early as 2100 BCE, Gudea of Lagash builds a temple for the goddess Ningirsu, who then promises to bless him with

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riches. In addition, numerous Middle and Neo-Assyrian royal annals depict the king as a cultivator, and especially as one who provides agricultural abundance for his subjects (often by means of military exploits and divine favor).1 Thus, while not exhaustive my selection of texts intends to elucidate this divine-royal nexus in a particularly striking and exemplary manner. With the rationale in hand, a guiding question for this chapter and the next one pertains, in the language of the New Institutional Economics discussed above, to the nature of the economic structures and institutions. What are the various cultural, religious, and political frameworks set in place for economic dealings, and how were economics viewed within these frameworks? It is often argued that writing itself in large part grew out of the desire to record – as a means to control – economic activity. If this argument holds some truth, then from the beginning of writing itself, economics played an important role. Yet not only are there quite early administrative records of economic activity, but also certain ideologies around economic issues in other genres. These ideologies cohere with rulers’ attempts to show themselves worthy of their positions of power by demonstrating wisdom, justice, and compassion to their underlings. The first section lays out the general approach to economics found in the texts from the ancient Near East from the third to the first millennium. These texts offer concrete examples that remain within easy reach of the modern audience. Reviewing the general conceptual role that economic issues played in ancient Near Eastern texts provides an initial historical baseline from which to evaluate the relevant material from the Levant and Hebrew Bible in general and then of the Persian period more specifically. To consider the place of economics, I will investigate several different facets of the ancient Near Eastern texts. The first consists law treatises2 and royal proclamations on prices and 1

For more details on this connection, see the summary in my “Feast and Famine – Lack as a Backdrop for Plenty,” in Feasting in the Archaeology and Texts of the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near East, ed. P. Altmann and J. Fu (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014), 159–66; also Irene J. Winter, “Ornament and the ‘Rhetoric of Abundance’ in Assyria,” in On Art in the Ancient Near East, vol. 1, CHANE 34 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 163–83; eadem, “Representing Abundance: A Visual Dimension of the Agrarian State,” in On Art in the Ancient Near East, vol. 2, CHANE 34 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 199–225; Gary A. Anderson, Sacrifices and Offerings in Ancient Israel: Studies in Their Social and Political Importance, HSM 41 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987), 106–8. 2 Legal treatises or law collections beginning with those from Mesopotamia (i.e., UrNamma/u [LU], Lipit-Ishtar [LL], Eshnunna [LE] , Hammurabi [LH]) from the second millennium and even third millennium, as well as the Hittite laws from ca. 1600–1180 BCE, allow some insight into the economic or exchange values and ways of thinking in Mesopotamia and the broader Near East during these early periods. The earliest known treatise, LU (ca. 2100 BCE) , even includes a general statement on protecting the plight of the economically weak in its prologue, highlighting the centrality of the motif of economic justice for the genre as a whole. Unless otherwise noted, translations of the Sumerian and Akkadian

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exchange rates found in various genres of literature. This is followed by considerations of interest rates and finally debt-release proclamations.3 In each case several royal inscriptions provide additional support for the perspectives on display in the legal material. The choice of texts provide a representation of the way that economics fit into royal ideology. In somewhat surprising fashion for modern Western approaches to economics and law, consideration of actual versus “ideal” prices, wages, and interest take up considerable space in the ancient Near Eastern legal treatises.4 As a starting point it may be helpful to note that Polanyi interpreted this data as support for the socially-determined nature of ancient economic thinking: The proclamation of equivalencies is one of the main functions of the archaic king. Such a declaration provides a semireligious sanction for transactions that conforms to the ‘rate’ or ‘proportion’ approved by the appointee of the deity. From the early Assyrian trade colonies, the laws of Eshnunna and the Code of Hammurabi, down to the Mishna and the Babylonian Talmud of some 2500 years later; indeed, up to the time of Thomas Aquinas, if not considerably longer, the just price remained the only rate at which transactions were deemed legitimate.5

Polanyi notes here a second central role for economic concepts in ancient legal treatises. He highlights the ongoing embedded nature of economic trade within wider societal concerns, much as one would expect him to argue. It provides a good beginning point for discussing the question of “just” or “ideal” prices in the ancient Near East as a marker of the importance of economic wisdom to the character of the perfect ruler. First, in terms of chronology, the discussion of such questions even precedes the LE corpus that Polanyi mentions, appearing in the earlier Sumerian law collection LU. This collection’s prologue establishes standardized weights for exchange, securing their importance among wider questions of justice and power: “I made the copper bariga-measure and standardized it at 60 silas. I made the copper seah-measure and standardized it at 20 silas. … I standardized (all) the stone weights (from?) the pure (?) 1-shekel (weight) to the 1-mina (weight).” This legal statement might be seen as going beyond the modern political notion of justice to protect the weak/poor from the strong/rich (also found in LU). More defensible is a somewhat universal notion that protection law material comes from Martha T. Roth, Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor, 2nd ed., WAW 6 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1997). The translations of the Hittite material is from Harry A. Hoffner, “Hittite Laws,” in Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor, 2nd ed., WAW 6 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1997), 214. 3 A difficult and widely discussion question in scholarship is whether – or to what degree – these texts (including the debt-release proclamations) belong to the same genre and provide sufficient overlap for comparison. 4 Though there is similarity with, e.g., European Union regulations of international roaming changes on cell phones, which indicate a desired price range but do not enforce it. 5 Karl Polanyi, The Livelihood of Man, ed. H. W. Pearson (New York: Academic, 1977), 74.

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of “fair” exchange belongs within a government’s purview, though the limits are set very differently in different places at different times. Interpreted in light of setting up weights and measures to ensure “fair” trade, statements like this one from LU seem relatively commonplace. However, price-setting, for example the difference in the price of hire for an ox placed directly in front of the plow versus one in the middle or front of the team (i.e., in LL [ca. 1930 BCE]), does go a step further, seemingly supporting Polanyi’s interpretation of the prices as “just.” Yet before agreeing with Polanyi too quickly, I find it necessary to inquire about the relationship between the law treatises’ prices and wages and those in actual transactions from ancient Mesopotamia. Before addressing this tangled web of complications, one can readily conclude that the authority proclaiming the price and wage laws attempts to portray himself worthy of his ruling function. And it is quite intriguing that the lawgiver goes about this demonstration by declaring exchange values. This approach demonstrates the role economic thinking plays in work-a-day approaches to justice. Rulers found it important to treat many questions related directly to economics. One example appears in the laws of LE, which as a whole begin with exchange values set in terms of what one could purchase for one shekel. It also includes the various grain or silver wages a harvester, donkey driver, or other hired hand should earn. Why address these issues? While a complete answer is certainly more complicated, the treatment of these mundane rates of exchange and payment points to the centrality of economic well-being to the society’s conception of the perfect ruler, who himself often intended to represent the gods in their midst. A divinely sanctioned ruler must project the notion of an economically fair society. This conception will also appear in biblical literature from the earliest into the Persian period.

2.1. Prices 2.1. Prices

So how do these statements on prices (or exchange values) relate to the actual prices of the time? Many issues hinder scholarly attempts to determine clearly the actual prices and wages paid in various times and places, which of course generally places answers to questions about economic growth or inflation out of reach. Difficulties arise first in finding enough price or wage data for a particular place and time period. Second, the weights and measures did not remain the same (showing the ideological importance in LU’s setting of the equivalences): the weight of a shekel varied; the purity of shekel silver remains undefined; the quality and time of delivery (for grain) of other trade goods also

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receives little discussion.6 So, when Eshnunna begins (§1) by declaring “300 silas [1 sila ≈ 1 liter] of barley (can be purchased) for 1 shekel of silver” and Hittite Laws §183 states “The price of 200 liters [of barley is ½ shekel of silver.],” this does not necessarily mean that barley was generally cheaper under the Hittites of the Old Kingdom (ca. 1650–1500 BCE) than in Mesopotamia roughly a century earlier at the time of Eshnunna. Barley prices in re corded contracts fluctuated depending on the season, but the law treatises omit consideration of this factor. Investigation of the law collections does not lead to a monolithic view. One might conclude – with Snell – that this results from the different character of various collections.7 Some have clear royal tendencies, but the prices set in LE may point to a different purpose for this collection. Snell plots the prices of LE, though from a later period, with the silver balanced accounts from Ur III and finds significant similarity.8 Law treatises are not the only genre that portrays commodity prices. In Old Babylonian (1850–1780) royal inscriptions, several kings report extremely cheap barley (between 600–1,200 qû9 per shekel), highly utopian for this period.10 While the genre certainly differs from the law treatises, the common paean to the law-giving ruler’s military11 or other accomplishments in the superscription/prologue to the law statues implies at least a royal apologetic purpose for the law treatises,12 showing quite similar motivation to the statements of low prices after military victories in royal inscriptions.13 For example, Shamshi-Adad I claims in his recounting of the construction of the Ashur-Enlil temple at Ashur:

6 Carlo Zaccagnini, “Prices and Price Formation in the Ancient Near East: A Methodological Approach,” in Économie antique: prix et formation des prix dans les économies antiques, ed. J. Andreau, P. Briant, and R. Descat, Entretiens d’archéologie et d’histoire 3 (Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges: Musée Archéologique Départemental, 1997), 365–66. 7 Snell, Ledgers and Prices, 205–6. 8 Ibid., 204. 9 1 qû = 1 sila ≈ 1 liter, depending on the time. 1 mina = 500g; 1 Babylonian shekel= .833g (1/60 of a mina). Cf. Marvin A. Powell, “Late Babylonian Surface Mensuration: A Contribution to the History of Babylonian Agriculture and Arithmetic,” AfO 31 (1984): 32– 66. 10 Zaccagnini, “Prices and Price Formation,” 368; Marvin A. Powell, “Identification and Interpretation of Long Term Price Fluctuations in Babylonia: More on the History of Money in Mesopotamia,” AfO 17 (1990): 92. 11 I.e., LE: “[when Dadusha ascended to] the kingship of the ciy of Eshnunna [and entered] into the house of his father, [when] he conquered with mighty weapons within one year the cities Ṣupu-Shamash …” Cf. LU and LL. 12 As noted by Zaccagnini, “Prices and Price Formation,” 368. 13 Ibid., 369, mentions specifically Sargon and Ashurbanipal.

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When I built the temple of the god Enlil, my lord, the market price in my city, Ashur, (was): In the market of my city, Ashur, two cor of barley could be purchases for one shekel of silver; fifteen minas of wool for one shekel of silver; two seahs of oil for one shekel of silver.14

The point of this inscription is to show the king’s piety in building the temple, which the deity then rewards in the form of produce for sale at low prices for the inhabitants of the capital city, where the temple was located. Barley, for example, was declared to be 20% cheaper than in LE. Similar statements appear in the ninth-century Phoenician Kilamuwa inscription (KAI 24): (l. 8): a young female slave could be exchanged for a (mere) sheep and a young male slave for a (mere) garment.15 This similarity indicates broad familiarity with the motif. The opposite occurrence – of extremely high prices – intends to demonstrate poor governance, the Curse of Agade (ll. 176–192) shows through its depiction of the problems with Naram-Sin’s leadership. At this time 1 shekel = ½ qû of barley, an exorbitantly small amount of barley for a shekel. While Zaccagnini argues that the figures for the periods of extremely high prices during crisis periods are portrayed more adequately in the extant records than the low prices in the royal inscriptions, the ideological value of both types should not be overlooked. The wise ruler was clearly the one that, among other things, maintained price stability of grain and other necessities in silver at acceptable or even reduced levels. A similar function appears in 2 Kgs 6–7. Sometime later King Ben-hadad of Aram mustered his entire army; he marched against Samaria and laid siege to it. As the siege continued, famine in Samaria became so great that a donkey’s head was sold for eighty shekels of silver, and one-fourth of a kab of dove’s dung for five shekels of silver. Now as the king of Israel was walking on the city wall, a woman cried out to him, “Help, my lord king!” He said, “No! Let the Lord help you. How can I help you? From the threshing floor or from the wine press?” (2 Kgs 6:24–27) … But Elisha said, “Hear the word of the Lord: thus says the Lord, Tomorrow about this time a measure of choice meal shall be sold for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel, at the gate of Samaria.” (2 Kgs 7:1; cf. vv. 16–18).

Nam aptly comments, “[T]he central authority [is] completely inept at controlling the prices. Due to the context of social chaos, the Israelite King did not have any power of the city under siege.”16 Instead of maintaining the royal connection with the deity such that the king could provide abundance in the manner described in the Kilamuwa inscription, Ahab must admit his impotence, and Elisha steps into the role of mediator of divine provision. 14

Albert Kirk Grayson, Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, vol. 1, 2 vols., RANE (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1972), 20. 1 “cor” (usu. “kor,” gur) = 180 qû. 15 Douglas J. Green, “I Undertook Great Works”: The Ideology of Domestic Achievements in West Semitic Royal Inscriptions, FAT 2/41 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 140; see also my discussion in “Feast and Famine,” 149–78. 16 Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 169.

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These concerns continue to arise as one moves temporally closer to the Persian period from the surrounding cultures as well – first in the late Neo-Assyrian reign of Ashurbanipal and then again in texts from Neo-Babylonian king Nabonidus. In the latter, there is one text meant to illustrate the justice – also of the economic variety – of an unknown king, likely Nabonidus,17 as well as a tariff inscription from his 14th or 15th year. These two embattled rulers attempt to garner support by projecting the nature of their royal wisdom as consisting of favor in the eyes of the gods, which in turn brings about an abundance of agricultural goods. This abundance results in cheap barley, wool, dates, and other such products. These deflationary conditions attempt to secure the support of those needing to purchase the agricultural goods, thus not necessarily addressing the concerns of individual farmers (though one can expect that good harvests also benefited them), but more likely those of more urban dwellers or elites less self-sufficient. A prayer evidently meant for Assurbanipal’s coronation displays clearly ideal prices: “May the [resident] of Assur obtain 30 kor of grain for 1 shekel of silver … 30 quarts of oil of 1 shekel of silver … 30 minas of wool for 1 shekel.”18 While the text as a whole alludes to earlier Assyrian material, the inclusion economic material is a new development. Nabonidis’ tariff inscription promises 234 sila (1 kor 1, 1 bushel 18 sila) of barley or 270 sila of dates or 18 sila of wine (the “beer of the mountains that is not found in my land”) among other goods for one shekel.19 This goodness all takes places as a result of Sîn’s satisfaction with Nabonidis’ good deeds, leading Sîn to have Adad and Ea bless the land with abundant water. While the prices put forward in Assurbanipal’s coronation prayer are incredible, those from Nabonidis are only slightly overdone, but still with the realm of credibility.20 Having provided a long-term historical overview, the somewhat different perspective recorded in LH also deserves mention. This most famous of law treatises presents the idea of the economically wise ruler as one who protects his royal honor as gift-giver. First, in LH §35, the gifts from the king to a soldier are kept off the market: “If a man should purchase from a soldier either the cattle or the sheep and goats which the king gave to the soldier, he shall forfeit his silver.” While there could likely have been concomitant economic reasons, it appears that the sanctity of this property lies in its nature as gifts. Things from the king have a special value. What is intriguing here is that the category of gift is separate from the category of trade. There is, then, something 17 For discussion and translation, cf. Benjamin R. Foster, Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadian Literature, 3rd rev. and enlg. ed. (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2005), 870. 18 Translation and discussion from ibid., 815–16. 19 Adopted from Hanspeter Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Grossen, samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik, AOAT 256 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2001), 532. 20 Cf. Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 585 n. 3179.

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of a “symbolic capital” in the gift, which the king forbids from trade.21 However, one might suggest that there must have been soldiers willing to trade this property, implying that not everyone accepted the special nature of a royal gift. In sum, the main value of these statements on prices appears in their ideological nature. At some points, some level of credibility can be concluded, but only with hesitation. The following sections on wages and debt provide further insight into their connection with real prices.

2.2. Wages 2.2. Wages

A second, generally exceptional category in LH appears in its discussion of wages. Some statues address yearly agricultural labor (§257; for 2,400 silas of grain), ox driving (§258; 1,800 silas of grain per year); herding (§261; 2,400 silas of grain per year). Others set wages for short-term work (§274) – i.e., a craftsman for 5 barleycorns of silver per day (1/36 shekel), a carpenter for 4 (1/45 shekel). The Hittite Laws also set a number of wage rates, though by no means all. Wages are actually often given in terms of the payment due for the production of specific goods. For example, §160a states “If a smith makes a copper box weighing 1 ½ minas, his wages shall be 5,000 liters of barley.”22 Unfortunately, the most tantalizing statute comes from a broken context, §150: If a man hires himself out for wages, his employer [shall pay … shekels of silver] for [one month. If a woman] hires herself out for wages, her employer [shall pay … shekels] for one month.

It appears that the statute attempts to regulate general wages, but the actual amount and the time period remain uncertain. Furthermore, what kind of work does it imply? Is it basic agricultural labor? From the relative silence on wages, Zaccagnini concludes: … price levels of real estate property and of labour force transactions seem to be completely outside any ‘market’ mechanism, since in most cases they are the result of forced alienations carried out in order to provide a (temporary) remedy in situations of personal economic difficulties. On the other hand, we have seen that the cost of manpower remains unaltered over the course of time because, after all, it coincides with the minimal amount of survival rations.23

21 Records of contentious claims for royal meat leftovers are on display in Simo Parpola, “The Leftovers of God and King: On the Distribuion of Meat at the Assyrian and Achaemenid Imperial Courts,” in Food and Identity in the Ancient World, ed. C. Grottanelli and L. Milano, History of the Ancient Near East Studies 9 (Padua: S.A.R.G.O.N. editrice e libreria, 2004), 281–312. 22 Hoffner, “Hittite Laws,” 233. 23 Zaccagnini, “Prices and Price Formation,” 377.

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He thus ends up agreeing with much of Polanyi’s substantivist perspective: payment for labor was irregular. In normal scenarios, people worked their own land, and they only sold their labor when this normal way of life failed to fulfill their needs. Zaccagnini’s conclusion provides one possible conclusion from the meager evidence. However, there may well have been categories of work regulated – at least in part – by “market” forces. Whether it purports “low” or “high” wages as ideals is also important, but it remains unresolved just how these laws relate to the wages and their fluctuation. Nonetheless, the very fact that most of society lived close to the basic survival minimums for food implies that market forces were limited in their scope.

2.3. Debt and Interest 2.3. Debt and Interest

A further combination of economics and justice in the law treatises and debtrelease edicts appears in the determination of interest rates. As with questions of ideal prices and penal fines, this issue as well congeals around royal action and the figure of the king. First, it should be noted that the fact that the law collections, especially those in which a king appears in the prologue, include the regulation of interest in their law treatises indicates the positive view of interest-bearing debt within ancient Mesopotamian society. This contention is supported by the notion that these rulers used the law treatises – as seen on display in the paeans of praise to the rulers in the introductions and conclusions of the treatises – to promote their images as just rulers, worthy of the authority of the thrones they claimed.24 As has often been noted, the rates for loans were set ideally at 20% for silver and 33% for grain (i.e., LE §18A; LH gap § t). Given the rhetorical purposes of these law collections, it would also have been possible to ban interest, had that been desirable. Second, these rates seems exorbitant for modern Western standards. Yet, turning to Hudson’s analysis, interest rates in antiquity – in Mesopotamia as well as Greece and Rome – were set in such a manner as to make it easy to calculate what was due. Each system was connected to the method of counting in fractions in that society (1/10 in Greece, 1/12 in Rome, and 1/60 in Mesopotamia). As a result, “The apparent chronological decline in these interest rates was an accidental byproduct of the numerical fraction system in each region, rather than reflecting economic rates of return or the debtor's shrinking ability to pay.”25 24

Marc van de Mieroop, “A History of Near Eastern Debt?,” in Debt and Economic Renewal in the Ancient Near East, ed. M. Hudson and M. Van de Mieroop (Baltimore: CDL, 2002), 85. 25 Hudson, “How Interest Rates Were Set,” 157.

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A further issue, however, is the difference between rates on grain (often 33 1/3%) versus rates on silver (often 20%).26 Why were they different? Hudson relates the different rates to land rents, while silver loans concerned commercial trade investments.27 This may over-simplify the matter, as the debt-release edicts will show below. These declarations of debt relief “mīšarum šakānum”28 (“establishment of order/justice”) or documents of “social reform”29 by various rulers present another point of entry. Yet before taking a look at these documents, it should also be noted that LH also includes stipulations (gap §cc–§102) concerning the sharing of risk and reward in merchant activities. Unlike agricultural economic relations, these agreements restrict the ability to offload risk onto one party. These contracts are not regulated by debt and interest per se, so they were excluded from the debt release edicts. Perhaps their form provided the rationale for their exclusion, but it was more likely the nature of the contract: they were business ventures for profit rather than agricultural debt taken on because of poor harvest.30 One final perspective that can be gleaned from LH arises from the debtpayment through labor provision in LH §117: If an obligation is outstanding against a man and he sells or gives into debt service his wife, his son, or his daughter, they shall perform service in the house of their buyer or of the one who holds them in debt service for three years; their release shall be secured in the fourth year.

This section overlaps considerably with the debt-release statue found in Ammisaduqa §20, the difference being that here a set amount of time for service is addressed, rather than a release (in the edict) based on a particular month and year of a king’s reign – and this period of service is noticeably shorter than the six years in the biblical accounts.31 All in all, however, these statues in the law 26

David L. Baker, Tight Fists or Open Hands? Wealth and Poverty in Old Testament Law (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 253–54, notes a wider variety of rates, up to 100% on grain in Neo-Assyria. 27 Hudson, “How Interest Rates Were Set,” 157; idem, “Reconstructing the Origins of Interest-Bearing Debt and the Logic of Clean Slates,” in Debt and Economic Renewal in the Ancient Near East, ed. M. Hudson and M. Van de Mieroop (Baltimore: CDL, 2002), 26. 28 F. R. Kraus, Königliche Verfügungen in altbabylonischer Zeit, Studia et documenta ad iura orientis antiqui pertinentia 11 (Leiden: Brill, 1984), 7. 29 Benjamin Foster, “Social Reform in Ancient Mesopotamia,” in Social Justice in the Ancient World, ed. K. D. Irani and M. Silver, Contributions in political science 354 (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1995), 165–77. 30 LH §48, o n the other hand, addresses agricultural disasters, including provisions for moving back the repayment of a debt in the case of insufficient rain or flood, which provides a more differentiated view of reality: the wise king must sometimes deal with situations of divine curse. 31 Gregory C. Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery in Israel and the Ancient Near East, JSOTSup 141 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), 67–72, notes that there may be another rationale at work

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collections depict the importance of the regulation of the “economic playing field” – which did not constitute equality in any manner,32 but at least took the role of some natural factors into consideration – for the cultural picture of an ideal or harmonious land, all under the active and watchful eye of the king. It is, in fact, surprising that such provisions do not appear elsewhere. Turning to the debt-release proclamations, these mīšarum are well-known from the 150 years during the Old Babylonian period following Hammurabi, during the reigns of his son Samsu-iluna, and later Ammi-ditana, and finally Ammi-saduqa.33 Actually extant are a small section of an edict from Samsuiluna, two texts that clearly name Ammi-saduqa, and one text that no longer contains the name of the king.34 The edicts begin with very little in the way of a prologue: the tablet of Ammi-saduqa merely states “Document of … when [the king] re-estab[lished] equity for the land.” It goes on to provide a general overview of the content, the date, and the ruler issuing the edict.35 This observation provides some support for the hypothesis that these edicts were actually intended to be carried out, a contention supported by contract documents making reference to certain acts, bearing strong resemblance to the edicts, though the royal acts are not specifically named. For example, a letter from the reign of Ammi-saduqa in which a passage reads: “the king … ordered the release of the slaves of the Šamaš canonesses.”36

here. Perhaps the period of three years designates when the debtor could then pay off the debt because in LH §118 there is a provision for selling the slave after the period of redemption expires. In this case the three-year term was more than a pledge, perhaps something of a down payment. 32 Raymond Westbrook, “Social Justice in the Ancient Near East,” in Social Justice in the Ancient World, ed. K. D. Irani and M. Silver, Contributions in political science 354 (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1995), 149: “Social justice was conceived rather as protecting the weaker strata of society from being unfairly deprived of their duty: the legal status, property rights, and economic condition to which their position on the hierarchical ladder entitled them.” 33 Contracts and various other documents point to similar royal acts throughout Mesopotamia around the Old Babylionan period; see Kraus, Königliche Verfügungen. 34 BM 78259, Ni 632, BM 80289, and Si 507. See ibid., 129–42 for find details. On the various proposed attributions of the unknown king (Ammi-ditana, Samsi-iluna, or Abieshuch), see “The Edicts of Samsu-Iluna and His Successors,” trans. William W. Hallo (COS 2.134:362 and n. 2). 35 “The Edicts of Samsu-Iluna and His Successors,” COS 2.134:362; J. J. Finkelstein, “The Edict of Ammisaduqa: A New Text,” RA 63 (1969): 47, comments that BM 80289, from which this translation comes, provides the right amount of text to fill the missing space at the beginning of the other tablet containing this edict (Ni 632). However he contends that (ibid., 47 n. 1) Samsu-iluna may have space for a more extensive prologue. 36 CT 52 nr. 88; cf. Kraus, Königliche Verfügungen, 81; Samuel Greengus, “Review of Königliche Verfügungen, by F. R. Kraus,” JAOS 108 (1988): 154. The translation is my own of Kraus.

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A remark in Ammi-saduqa that this edict is intended for “… arrears which [date] from the year (called) ‘By king Ammi-ditana the debts of the land which they had repeatedly incurred were remitted’” (year 17 of Ammi-ditana’s reign, some 17 years earlier) until the current year also points to this conclusion. Furthermore, this remark shows the punctiliar rather than ongoing nature of these edicts. While it is possible that they regularly took place at the beginning of a king’s reign (though they could occur at other times as well) and might be planned for or circumvented (cf. the measures laid out in Ammi-saduqa §§4–5 to hinder such attempts), they were one-off actions, slicing through the regular “business as usual.” And though there is little to help decide the matter, one wonders what events brought on especially the edicts that took place outside the first year of a king’s reign: was it difficult economic circumstances, difficult growing conditions, or rather an attempt by rulers to shore up their power?37 It may have been some combination of all of them as well. The edicts make a very important distinction between debts on the one hand, and purchases and agreements meant for business travel, partnerships, or as an advance on the other. A purchase or something possibly meant for a commercial endeavor was not to be remitted, (§5; §8), while those in debt to a private lender or the palace (or one of its agents) were to be given release. From this data Hudson draws the following conclusion: “The fact that [Mesopotamian] rulers only cancelled rental arrears, distress loans and other personal debts shows an implicit recognition of the classical distinction between productive lending and socially corrosive usury.”38 This distinction appears to have been overlooked by P. Guillaume in his positive assessment of debt.39 While written quite polemically, the distinction seems to hold true as far as it goes. The purpose of the loans of silver remains thus far undetermined. How was the borrowed silver used, if not in some kind of marketplace? It seems odd for the borrowed silver to be only for tax payments. This observation implies that the distress loans extended beyond the agricultural realm. Kraus posits one possible application for these loans: they might actually have been the cancelling of arrears due to the state or to private individuals that one could not expect to be repaid anymore. They were bad debt, and the ensuing release was largely an inner accountancy practice that wiped the books clean.40 The basis for 37 Cf. Westbrook, “Social Justice in the Ancient Near East,” 159–60. Note similar claims about the “usurper” Gaumata, who ruled Persia for a short period after Cambyses the Persia throne, only to be defeated by Darius. According to Herodotus (Hist. 3.68), Gaumata granted a three-year tax relief in attempts to secure his claim to the throne. 38 Hudson, “Reconstructing the Origins,” 28–29. 39 See discussion below, Section 8.2.2. 40 Kraus, Königliche Verfügungen, 194. He states: “In uns unbekanntem Maße bewirkte unser Edikt gar nicht die wirtschaftliche Korrektur, die wir den altbabylonischen Gnadenakten dieser Art gewohnt sind zuzuschreiben, sondern legitimierte nur nachträglich die Selbsthilfe der zahlungsunfähigen oder -unwilligen Schuldner, die ihre Rückstände unbeglichen

2.3. Debt and Interest

45

Kraus’ suggestion is found in his observation that possibly a number of taxes had not been collected for a significant number of years (up to 16!) The statutes releasing those that have become debt slaves (§20), in contrast to those born as slaves (§21), supports the validity of Kraus’ suggestion. Citizens, their wives, or their children working off debts are pronounced free by the edicts.41 Nonetheless, it seems appropriate to note Kraus’ hesitation with regard to assuming that the implementation of the edicts matched some kind of liberal modern view of equality. They may certainly include impulses in this direction, but too many lacunae in the extant evidence remain. Also important are the measures related to debts outstanding to the crown, which appear in various clauses. One of the most striking is §15, addressing the collection of a tithe,42 in which the palace gives up its portion of the debt crop. However, this does not release the tenant for his entire tax burden according to the statue: “… (but) the barley pertaining to the purchasing (of the palace) and the ancillary income (of the tenant) will be tithed according to the old tax-rate.”43 This differentiation indicates details practical consideration of how such a measure might be implemented. A final important category in the discussion of debt and interest relates to their purpose. In contrast with modern capitalist regimes, the goal may not have been to accumulate interest in grain or silver per se. The proclamation by Enlilbāni, king of Isin (ca. 1850 BCE) indicates the importance both of taxes (which makes immediate sense in the modern world), yet also of corvée requirements: v: I established justice in Nippur. I made righte[ousness] appear. As (for) sheep I sought out food to eat (and) fed (them) with green plants. I lifted the heavy yoke from their necks. I settled (them) in a secure abode.

gelassen hatten. Insofern müssen wir es als interne buchhaltungstechnische Verwaltungsmaßregel betrachten, nämlich als amtliche Löschung nicht eintreibbarer Schulden, die nur noch 'auf dem Papier' standen. Leider fehlt uns jede Möglichkeit, uns eine zutreffende Vorstellung von der wirklichen Wirkung eines Ediktes zu machen: mehr Linderung akuter wirtschaftlicher Notlage der Betroffenen oder mehr bureaukratische Sanierung der Amtsbuchhaltung? Damit ist es uns auch unmöglich, spezielle Motive für den Erlaß eines bestimmten Ediktes zu rekonstruieren.” 41 Compare to Neh 5:1–11. 42 This is the word used by Hallo for makāsu. CAD M 1:127–28 translates “dues” for this passage and also references the OB letter PBS 7:89 ll. 7–8. Note, however, AHw, 588–89: “Ertragsteil, -abgabe einheben.” In the OB period (2000–1500 BCE) period used for tenants, and MB (1500–1000 BCE) for state income tax. The fact that a tax-collector is involved points in the direction of Hallo’s and CAD’s rendering. 43 Perhaps this could be brought into connection with Nehemiah’s claims in Neh 5:14– 19.

46

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vi: I established righteousness and justice in Isin ... I made the land content. I reduced to one-tenth the grain tax that formerly was one-fifth. I made the commoner serve (only) four days a month.44

Here the pervasive, if often hidden to modern eyes, labor requirement appears as a key burden for ancient subjects. Land was often plentiful, but the labor to work it was not. In fact, Foster explains, “Few institutions were so hated, and more than one ruler sought favor by reducing or modifying [corvée labor]. As late as the first millennium, literary texts refer to corvée and recruitment as examples of tyranny.”45 And the central importance of the labor requirement appears of not only with regard to the royal apparatus, but also with regard to private debt. Steinkeller, for instance, posits that the primary goal of charging interest at the given rates was to make sure that those taking on loans would not be able to repay them; the debtors would instead need to work them off.46 While my purpose has not been to suggest the full role of these debt-release edicts for Old Babylonian society, their potential value as advertisement for the goodness and righteousness of the ruler seems clear. Even if they mostly consisting of acknowledging that certain debts could never be collected, the move can easily be brought in conjunction with the desire for a ruler to burnish his credentials.

2.4. Conclusions 2.4. Conclusions

The short overview of the configuration of economics in Mesopotamian (also West Semitic and Hittite) texts displays the broad reach of the palace in the depiction of economic realities and their attempt to control economics. My entry point consisted in noting the central royal-divine nexus of blessing for agricultural abundance. This nexus appears from the third millennium in Lagash to first millennium Neo-Assyrian and West Semitic royal inscriptions. Furthermore, this ideological conception lies the foundation for understanding the ideal prices in Mesopotamian and Hittite legal material, as well as in Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian texts. The approach established in the nexus of royal and divine abundance cast an important shadow over the economic sphere of its subjects’ lives. Royal ideology sought to establish a direct 44 CBS 13909: §§ v–vi. Cf. Douglas R. Frayne, The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia, 4 vols. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), 4:87–90. 45 Foster, “Social Reform in Ancient Mesopotamia,” 171. Cf. Exod 1 and 1 Kgs 5 as well, and the reference back to Exod 1 in Lev 25 (“harshly” ‫ בפרך‬in vv. 43, 53); on these texts, see Bernard M. Levinson, “The Birth of the Lemma: The Restrictive Reinterpretation of the Covenant Code’s Manumission Law by the Holiness Code (Leviticus 25:44-46),” JBL 124 (2005): 637–38.. 46 Piotr Steinkeller, “The Ur III Period,” in Security for Debt in Ancient Near Eastern Law, ed. R. Westbrook and R. Jasnow, CHANE 9 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 48.

2.4. Conclusions

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link between cheap commodities and divine favor on the king, such that exorbitant prices indicated the weakness or incompetence of a ruler. Yet the reach of the ruler certainly went beyond mere projection in the form of debt-release edicts: these one-off proclamations from the Old Babylonian period likely sought to level the field, forgiving consumption debt and debts to the palace. They did not abolish commercial ventures, however, implying that even early Mesopotamia differentiated between various kinds of agricultural rental arrears and business investments. In any case, while the precise relationships between the statements of ideal prices and actual prices remain difficult to identify, some price fluctuation underlies the statements of ideal prices likely existed. Without some impulse – perhaps of a market-like variety – the projections of ideal and accursed prices would make little sense. While much of this data comes from periods separated from Persian Yehud by even more than a millennium, the traditional nature of ancient West Asian culture and the stability of this motif suggest that similar dynamics formed the basic perspectives on economics found in the first millennium Levant as well. The section above largely focused on the legal traditions, both the law treatises and the debt release edicts. However, the similarity of conception on display in annalistic texts demonstrates its pervasiveness. As a pervasive conception, it proved an important stream of tradition over long periods of time and finds its way into the biblical texts in the following chapters.

Chapter 3

Economics, Cult, and Society in Preexilic Biblical Texts This preliminary discussion – and it can only be an overview within the context of this project – builds on the broad overview of the ancient Near Eastern approaches to economics by turning to the Neo-Assyrian dominated period of the ninth to seventh centuries. First it opens with the wide geographic view of economics in the Neo-Assyrian Empire and the Levant. This initial discussion considers archaeological and broad textual perspectives. The chapter then narrows in on the depiction of economics in the biblical texts. It addresses various conceptual approaches taken to determine the structure of economic reality in Israel and Judah, especially during the preexilic period. In effect, this section builds on the previous discussions of extra-biblical texts and methodological theories, while also reaching forward to include discussion of various biblical texts. As part of this presentation, I provide a brief look at the economic conceptions frequently employed for discussion of the preexilic period. These discussions will of course be dependent on the degree to which individual readers agree with my dating of texts, but the goal of the section – to sketch economic perspectives of the period in Judah (and Israel) – should be plausible even if readers diverge on individual texts. The reason for these sketches is to provide a counterpoint with which to compare the later Old Testament texts. Specifically, these preexilic biblical traditions form one of the major impulses for how postbiblical writers formulated their considerations of economic themes, even though their world was radically different from the preexilic one. In order to provide an overview of my conclusions, in the preexilic biblical texts God expects the societal leaders to uphold fair standards of trade for everyone taking part in market transactions. Thus, the leaders take on the roles accorded to royal rulers in the earlier Mesopotamian material. God generally does not take an active role in advocating for the liminal in society, but instead calls rulers and patrons to go even beyond whatever legal requirements to protect them.

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3.1. Economics in Preexilic Israel and Syro-Palestine 3.1. Economics in Preexilic Israel and Syro-Palestine

The ongoing evolution of economic analysis of the larger developments and geographical regions of the ancient Near East lays the foundation for analyzing the situation during the Persian period. Having introduced the royal conception of economics in the previous section, here I begin by addressing the Neo-Assyrian imperial economy at large because of significant changes taking place at this time.1 Then my discussion turns to the more specific geographical region of the Levant and finally to Judah’s (and Israel’s) place within this system. The focus remains on economics at large, while the subsequent section (3.2 Economics in Preexilic Biblical Texts) specifically addresses the economicallyinfluenced depictions of God and community in the biblical texts of this period. One of the major difficulties with economic analysis of the Neo-Assyrian Empire arises from the nature of the extant evidence: most sources come from imperial archives. The sources found here devote considerable attention to depictions of the projection of royal military conquest and tribute, which in and of themselves are deeply economic, as I have demonstrated in the previous chapter. Yet there are fewer sources outside of this imperial sphere. And, as Radner notes, while trade and tribute actually go hand-in-hand rather than being mutually exclusive under the Assyrians, this empire appears to have relied far more on tribute and booty than on trade or taxes to appropriate the goods of its empire.2 Nonetheless, as she notes, ingots and scales appear in the iconographic portrayals of Ashurnasirpal II from Kalhu and Sargon II Dur-Sharrukin in sacking of Musasir.3 Furthermore, labor (to the extent of extant sources) was provided much more by slaves or direct dependents than by hired 1

While it is possible that some of the oracles in the Minor Prophets arose prior to the entrance of Assyria on Israel and Judah’s immediate horizon, I cannot follow the suggestion that the economically-oriented oracles (i.e., Mic 6:9–15) generally address a pre-Assyrian context as found, for example, in Chaney, “Micah - Models Matter.” 2 Karen Radner, “Assyrische Handelspolitik: Die Symbiose mit unabhängigen Handelszentren und ihre Kontrolle durch Assyrien,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 155; She and J. N. Postgate, “The Economic Structure of the Assyrian Empire,” in Power and Propaganda a Symposium on Ancient Empires, ed. M. T. Larsen, Mesopotamia 7 (Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag, 1979), 193–221, have addressed economic topics of the Neo-Assyrian Empire most extensively. Avraham Faust comes to a similar conclusion for the Levant in “The Interests of the Assyrian Empire in the West: Olive Oil Production as a Test-Case,” JESHO 54 (2011): 62–86. 3 Karen Radner, “Money in the Neo-Assyrian Period,” in Trade and Finance in Ancient Mesopotamia: Proceedings of the First MOS Symposium (Leiden 1997), ed. J. G. Dercksen, Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul 84 (Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut, 1999), 135.

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workers. While the royal archives do not represent the most likely sources for information on private trade or employment, a minimal amount of documentation of hired labor and internal trade does exist. She notes soldiers for hire, as well as goldsmiths, tailors, and sailors.4 Neo-Assyrian letters and legal documents also indicate that bronze was used as the primary money medium in the eighth century, while silver dominated in the seventh. One particular letter, VAT 20374, also produces clear evidence that silver actually changed hands, rather than simply functioning as a marker of value various commodities and items.5 Even if the Neo-Assyrian Empire operated in large part from direct slave labor and acquired its riches through booty, these factors likely did not account for even the majority of the economic production of the empire. Ancient societies were decentralized enough, given the slow travel of information, armies, and goods, to allow for the far higher degree of regional control necessary for such a symbiotic and more decentralized distribution of economic power to obtain. This insight adheres in some ways both to North’s conclusion that the transaction costs for true price-fluctuating markets were too high and also to Houston’s emphasis (see below) on the important role of local patrons after the breakdown of larger kinship networks. Morris and Manning sum this up as follows: It was not easy for ancient state elites to capture a large percentage of the wealth of their societies. The basic parameters of ecology and technology … meant that the bulk of all production was consumed by the primary producers themselves; production beyond subsistence may often have been as low as 20 percent. The best estimates suggest that even in the Roman Empire, probably the richest ancient economy, central and local government combined captured no more than 5 percent of the revenue generated … Because revenues were small, bureaucracies were also small; and because bureaucracies were small, it was hard to trap more revenue.6

Their conclusion indicates that ancient polities did not possess the means to oppress subjects in the same ways that modern states do. This fact does not mean that they intended to be less extractive, but their reach was more limited. The upshot of this observation is that local systems played a more decisive role than might generally be noted, difficult as these constellations are to understand based on currently available sources. It is important to observe further that Assyrian domination of the economies of the Near East in general and the Levant in particular did not result in the decimation of non-Assyrian directed trade. The continued presence and wide4

Karen Radner, “Hired Labour in the Neo-Assyrian Empire,” SAAB 16 (2007): 189–91. Radner, “Money in the Neo-Assyrian Period,” 129–34. VAT 20374 (ibid, 134 provides a translation) is especially clear in showing that silver was weighed and exchanged. 6 Ian Morris and J. G. Manning, “The Economic Sociology of the Ancient Mediterranean World,” in The Handbook of Economic Sociology, ed. N. J. Smelser and R. Swedberg (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 150. 5

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ranging trade activities of the Phoenician cities and colonies bear witness to non-imperial trade existing centuries prior to the Assyrian expansion in the Levant.7 Specifically, the Egyptian text of Wenamum bears witness to Late Bronze Age trade between Phoenician polities and Egypt. Then, after the collapse of the Bronze Age empires, Sommer claims: “Decisive, however, for the quick expansion and initial openness of the Phoenician-dominated trade network of the Early Iron Age was the absence of highly centralized power structures.”8 Success of international trade was, therefore, not contingent on the presence of a stable empire. Nonetheless, scholars often consider the continued flourishing of Phoenician polities in the Neo-Assyrian period to have been encouraged by Assyria in order to fulfill Assyrian desires for luxury goods that could only be acquired by means of long-distance trade.9 From the Phoenician activities that spanned the Mediterranean, one may conclude that this trade functioned largely as market exchange.10 It was not done for the sake of honor or in the form of gift exchange. However, this exchange, according to the Greek evidence in the Homeric tradition,11 did not include price fluctuations. Nonetheless, the apparent stability of prices did not keep the Greeks from viewing the Phoenician’s as profit-oriented, and thus unethical.12 They were “only in it for the money,” which was negatively connoted then just as now. While this trade network developed prior to Assyrian influence in the region, the mercantile expertise of the Phoenicians is the most likely reason for the 7 Hans Georg Niemeyer, “The Phoenicians and the Birth of a Multinational Mediterranean Society,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd– 8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 245–56. 8 Michael Sommer, “Networks of Commerce and Knowledge in the Iron Age: The Case of the Phoenicians,” Mediterranean Historical Review 22 (2007), 102. 9 Boer views this as a central tenet of empires in Sacred Economy, 163–92. Faust, “The Interests of the Assyrian Empire in the West,” 76, could be taken to support this obliquely, but the connection is far more complex: “The Assyrian demand for tribute and taxes indirectly forced the surviving states (or rulers) to improve their economies in order to pay the Assyrians and at the same time maintain their quality (or standards) of life.” 10 Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 161; Michael Sommer, “Die Peripherie als Zentrum: Die Phöniker und der interkontinentale Fernhandel im Weltsystem der Eisenzeit,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 236, notes the implications of the portrayal of Phoenicians in Odyssey 15:414–82. 11 Whether these traditions stem from the 13th or the 8th centuries bears little importance for my point: ein either case they demonstrate a “profit motive” existent by the Neo-Assyrian period. See Od. 15.414-82 in the telling of Eumaeus about Phoenician traders 12 Sommer, “Die Peripherie als Zentrum,” 236–37.

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Assyrian Empire’s ongoing patience with Tyre, for example, even when the city rebelled. This Phoenician exception, as one might be inclined to designate it, highlights the somewhat symbiotic relationship between empire and port cities, most obvious for Tyre and Sidon, but also present further south, at Dor and Ashkelon. Phoenician trade with the southern Levantine coast, the Aegean, and increasingly farther into the Mediterranean began before the Neo-Assyrian period, yet the market potential developing from the broad empire of the NeoAssyrian helped. Perhaps some demand spurred supply. The archaeology of Ashkelon in the Early–Middle Bronze Age and also in the Neo-Assyrian period is closely related to the Phoenician economic success stories.13 What L. Stager has termed “port-power” and applied in more detailed fashion to the Bronze Ages can also function as an important model for much of the first millennium Levantine coast. This view posits a more congenial and symbiotic system that incorporates positive roles for the state, keeping with the “conservative approach” I have argued for above.14 “Village clusters” functioned as regional centers that both collected goods put into circulation outside the local economy and provided goods that the local system desired. This model also fits nicely with Morris and Manning’s insight that ancient elites (whether Assyria or Judah) could not control and extract all too much from their constituents because they did not possess the ability to control its economy in the same way as a modern “planned” economy.15 Instead of top-down imperial or state control, the Phoenician traders exercised market-like trade at emporiums found in various ports around the Mediterranean. These traders, as Stager remarks, exerted little authority beyond the coastal ports, leaving space for a variety of power structures to operate inland. The enduring sources of power, then, were not those exercised by political or military means from the ports, whether controlled by indigenous or foreign sources, but by those import-export merchants, usually an oligarchy, who exercised indirect economic power through the integrated and hierarchical system of market exchange. In other words, the Phoenician model of trade …16

Stager’s model has been extended to the Levant in the first millennium in D. Master’s study, as well as their combined reflections, which focus on the Philistine coastal plain in general and Ashkelon in the Neo-Assyrian period (prior to its destruction in 604 BCE), which will be discussed below.17

13

Stager, “Port Power in the Early and the Middle Bronze Age,” 625, proposes this model of “port-power” for EB I-III. 14 Section 1.3.3 above. 15 Also Houston, Contending for Justice, 41. 16 Stager, “Port Power in the Early and the Middle Bronze Age,” 629. 17 Master, “Trade and Politics”; Master and Stager, “Buy Low Sell High.”

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Their work supports the importance of trade, even for the land and extraction dominated empire of the Assyrians. Just like for Tyre, Ashkelon received special treatment in spite of its rebellion against Assyria. Thus, maritime trade was not only important for the Mediterranean port cities, where no single empire dominated during these centuries, and the Phoenicians could develop their own cities. It was also valuable for at least some parts of the landed ancient Near Eastern population in the periods dominated by great empires, such as the seventh century. I would suggest that there is, however, a gap in their discussion: What was the nature of the so-called “oligarchy” that controlled trade. Can their role be determined more clearly? Narrowing in on Israel, scholarship has focused on several key areas of the economy in the Neo-Assyrian period of the eighth-seventh centuries. One wellknown locus of discussion is the Samarian Ostraca, detailing the delivery of agricultural goods found in the context of the royal city of Samaria.18 A second, and most obvious, issue lies in the mandatory tribute required by the Assyrian overlords, and the economic repercussions of the invasions of the Assyrians in terms of the destruction they caused and the booty they procured. A third topic, this time arising from non-epigraphic archaeological remains, concerns the concentration on the production of specific agricultural goods in the archaeological record, suggesting developments in more export-oriented economies, either through trade or tribute. Along with this is the spice trade transgressing Judah’s southern frontier from Arabia to the Mediterranean. The Samaria ostraca show, at minimum, a certain amount of differentiation within Israelite society. There were those producing high quality wine and oil, and there were those that had authority over those goods. It is unclear whether the amounts represent tax payments on the behalf of others, or, following Nam’s insightful argument, payments to elites in order to win their support at a time of the relaxation of Assyrian pressure.19 The requirement to deliver tribute marks the general move of Israel and Judah into the Neo-Assyrian sphere of orbit, seen as early as Jehu’s mention on the Black Obelisk as bringing tribute (ca. 840 BCE) and developing in earnest during the reign of Tiglath-Pileser III in the middle of the eighth century. In economic terms, Jehu’s tribute is portrayed in terms of symbolically important luxury goods – silver, gold, a golden bowl, a golden vase with pointed bottom, golden tumblers, golden buckets, tin, a staff for a king, [and] spears. This emphasis on luxury items contrasts with Menachem’s tribute, which is set a century later according to the narrative and consists of 1,000 talents of silver.20 This amount worked out to 50 shekels per “man of means” (NJPS, for BH ‫גברי‬ 18

For an overview, see Peter Altmann, “Samaria, Ostraca,” in NIDB. Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 123. 20 One talent usually equals 3,600 shekels (60 mina in a talent and 60 shekels in a mina), but in Exod 38:24 a talent works out to 3,000 shekels. 19

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‫)החיל‬, or perhaps for each landowner (2 Kgs 15:19–20).21 Such an extraction suggests a transition taking place towards a more utilitarian calculation of tribute, consisting simply of an amount and not of display items. Furthermore, each of these “men of means” apparently had access to silver, or at minimum their contribution to the tribute could be calculated as a silver equivalence.22 How subjugated kingdoms raised this tribute gives rise to the probability of the development of trade. If Assyria’s primary interest lay in tribute and not in economic development of peripheral regions,23 then the remaining “semi-independent” Levantine polities likely procured tribute in part through taxes (i.e., the lmlk stamps)24 and perhaps in part through trade networks leading westward. Three areas of agricultural concentration in the eighth and even more into the seventh century suggest the possible development of agricultural goods for export. Most widely known are the surprising number of olive presses found in Ekron and Tel-Batash. These presses were able to process far more olive oil than necessary for local consumption, implying its removal from the local system. Nonetheless, the presence of a larger number of need not indicate more production: it could also arise from the loss of the larger clan lineage societal structure.25 If the presses in Ekron and Tel-Batash do represent olives for export, then a similar situation appears with regard to wine production at Ashkelon. Master and Stager conclude on the basis of the household configurations where these wine production installations appear that each household was responsible for the complete production process at its dwelling, rather than an assembly line 21

Houston, Contending for Justice, 40. A discussion of the economic ramifications of this event can be found in Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 148–50. This amounts to 60,000 households according to Nam, high for the northern kingdom at any time. 23 Faust, “The Interests of the Assyrian Empire in the West,” 72–73. 24 Oded Lipschits, “Archaeological Facts, Historical Speculations and the Date of the LMLK Storage Jars: A Rejoinder to David Ussishkin,” JHebS 12 (2012): Article 4, provides a recent introduction into the contested question of the purpose of these jars. I follow Lipschits’ argument that they represent longer term tax receipts. 25 See now Joshua Theodore Walton, “The Regional Economy of the Southern Levant in the 8th-7th Centuries BCE” (PhD diss., Harvard University, 2015). He notes (ibid., 272) “For all of the supposed Assyrian interest in the Ekron industry, there is absolutely no evidence that Assyria had any interest in Levantine olive oil. A prime example of this can be seen by an examination of Assyrian tribute and booty lists over time.” Earlier Baruch Halpern, “Jerusalem and the Lineages in the Seventh Century B.C.E.: Kingship and the Rise of Individual Moral Liability,” in Law and Ideology in Monarchic Israel, ed. Deborah W. Hobson and Halpern, JSOTSup 124 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991), 74–75. Note that they may represent export products, but at the same time not mark an increase in production from the region. They could replace those destroyed from the northern kingdom (Faust, “The Interests of the Assyrian Empire in the West,” 70–71. 22

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type of production. These new households were part of what Master and Stager suggest were between the 10,000–15,000 people dwelling in Ashkelon (This is a massive city compared to the ca. 500–1000 inhabitants of Jerusalem in the Persian period!).26 Also, archeobotanical evaluation of grain chaff from Ashkelon has in fact shown that some grain from inland Judah and the Sharon plain ended up in the city.27 Thus, a regional trade network may have emerged among polities that were subjugated to the Assyrians, but not Assyrian provinces. Furthermore, the kill patterns and herding strategies for cattle, goats, and sheep point towards the increased importance of meat for particular constituencies. Instead of keeping the animals primarily for their secondary products (wool, milk, and traction), which would lead owners to keep them until they were older, archaeozoological finds reveal a pattern in which animals of prime slaughtering age are totally missing. These animals were likely taken elsewhere.28 However, Assyria did prove hands-on in trade at least in terms of one product: spices. Their interest appears in the agreements with leaders of Arabic tribes and the appointment of officials in the Negev and Edomite regions from Tiglath-Pileser III and later Neo-Assyrian rulers.29 Tiglath-Pileser’s opening of a port (kāru) at the border to Egypt, which Sargon II would later re-open, so that the Assyrians and Egyptians could “mingle” (trade) also indicates a desire to profit the empire from this trade.30 Each of these pieces of archaeological (and textual) evidence indicates levels of longer distance exchange. Some of it was likely extraction, but much was trade. They all show development in the direction of more integrated systems, though this development should not be taken to be the whole picture. Faust and Weiss posit a significant growth in commerce in Judah during the seventh century. They conclude: The data presented above allows us to reconstruct several zones of agricultural production. Ashkelon and the coastal plain seem to have specialized in growing vines and producing wine. The inner coastal plain and the Shephelah grew mainly olives, and specialized in olive oil production. Farther inland, Judah appears to have specialized in growing grains to satisfy the needs

26

Master and Stager, “Buy Low Sell High.” Ibid., 41–42, pointing to Weiss and Kislev. 28 Peter Altmann, Festive Meals in Ancient Israel: Deuteronomy’s Identity Politics in Their Ancient Near Eastern Context, BZAW 424 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011). 29 For details see Juan Manuel Tebes, “Assyrians, Judaeans, Pastoral Groups, and the Trade Patterns in the Late Iron Age Negev,” History Compass 5 (2007): 620–61. 30 SAA 19, 22. See discussion in Walton, “The Regional Economy of the Southern Levant,” 260–62. 27

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of other regions (but also grapes; more below). The eastern and southern parts of Judah specialized also in herding, supplying animal products to the more “settled” regions.31

There are several questionable assumptions that underlie this interpretation of the evidence. A basic one, however, is in terms of political theory: just who would have been able to direct such zones of production? As I have pointed out already, a modern state apparatus and modern state-directed economic development is unknown for the ancient world. The question is how one evaluates these developments. Houston identifies several systematic approaches to the understanding of the economics in ancient Israel and Judah from the monarchic period forward based on a combination of archaeological and textual data. He calls them rent capitalism, the tributary state (discussed above, Section 1.3.2.), and the patronage system. One can add Stager’s “port-power” system to this mix as well. Houston rejects rent capitalism, which he associates with the works of Lang and Loretz, who imagine rich, idle city dwellers skimming as much profit off poor rural farmers as possible. Lang, for example, argues with regard to Amos: “Die städtische Besitzelite schöpft vom abhängigen Bauerntum einen möglichst großen Anteil der Erträge als regelmäßige ‘Rente’ ab, wobei Schuldtitel oder Eigentumstitel zwischen einzelnen Großbürgern und einzelnen Kleinbauern bestehen.”32 Houston correctly rejects this understanding because there is no evidence for rents in the terminology of the Hebrew Bible, on the one hand, and the values of the elite include hard work (e.g., in the book of Proverbs) on the other. Furthermore, there is no archaeological evidence for “the rural poor.”33 This approach reflects more modern Near Eastern settings rather than ancient ones. Neither can this model account for the role of a changing state (from ancient to twentieth-century times).34 Picking up from my presentation and critique above (Section 1.3.2.), Gottwald’s influential Marxist evaluation posits a tributary state and continues to have its advocates in current scholarship.35 In some ways it is quite similar to a Polanyian redistributive economy, or a Weberian “patrimonial” or “household” economy.36 However, unlike the Weberian household “nesting,”37 in this 31

Avraham Faust and Ehud Weiss, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World: Reconstructing the Economic System of the Seventh Century B.C.E.,” BASOR 338 (2005): 75. 32 Lang, “Prophetie und Ökonomie im alten Israel,” 55. 33 Cf. Houston, Contending for Justice, 28–29. 34 Cf. Kessler, Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda, 11. 35 I.e., Marvin L. Chaney, “Debt Easement in Israelite History and Tradition,” in The Bible and the Politics of Exegesis: Essays in Honor of Norman K. Gottwald on His SixtyFifth Birthday, ed. D. Jobling, P. L. Day, and G. T. Sheppard (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 1991), 127–39; Coomber, Re-Reading the Prophets; Premnath, Eighth Century Prophets. 36 Cf. Polanyi, The Livelihood of Man. 37 J. David Schloen, The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol: Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001), e.g., 65, 81.

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model the surplus from the rural villages is transferred to the centralized state, which exercises considerably power over the periphery. According to Houston, “[Gottwald] is ready to recognise a group of landholders (‘latifundaries’) who are not part of the state apparatus, and are developing a form of private property in land through their activities as creditors and drawers of rent. But they all ‘benefited from state power.’”38 While this was no doubt part of the situation, two problems emerge. There are hints that power was not so monolithically in the hands of those connected to the state, both for the preexilic and Persian periods. “Again, there is evidence that the crown had to reckon with powerful local figures. … Oppression in Judaean society was not a monopoly of the official class.”39 This is seen for the Persian period with the mention of the “nobles and the officials” together (‫ )החרים וסגנים‬at various points in Nehemiah, the first of which might be rural based heads of family. However, the “people of the land” (‫ )עם הארץ‬of the preexilic period (cf. 2 Kgs 22–23) provide further evidence for Houston’s critique in the preexilic period. A further difficulty for Gottwald’s model lies in its conception of a statedirected economy, which, as I have already pointed out, appears to assume modern political practice that was not implemented and possibly even inconceivable in antiquity.40 Houston supports my contention in debating the feasibility of such an economy, if understood as directed by centralized authority that itself made the production decisions for individual farmers. He argues that such a “command-economy” (as it is termed by Chaney): … implies that the entire process was systematically thought out and directed from the centre in each kingdom. But it needs to be questioned whether anyone in the ancient world could have thought in the way that this would require; and particularly questionable is the idea that tax policy would have been directed to achieve agricultural specialization. This is a modern idea. Ancient governments used taxes to raise revenue, not as an instrument of economic policy. 41

In the place of such a directed economy, however – in line with Houston’s understanding (and the evidence from Ashkelon) – a more gradual shift to these export products can still be imagined. Regardless, the archaeological evidence shows the transformation to somewhat more specialized production, and the problems of crop failure likely increased as a result. Nonetheless, this development points to a slightly different balance of the means of sustaining life, a bit more dependent on external interaction. The way people survived changed. In this regard, Coomber’s relative disregard for the intricacies of whether it was a top down change that took place to fulfill tribute requirements or whether it was a more trade-driven development that led to an increased focus on the 38

Houston, Contending for Justice, 37. Ibid., 42. 40 Ibid., 41; note the similar critique for Neo-Assyrian planning of the Ekron olive oil installations in Master, “Trade and Politics,” 50; cf. my remarks above as well. 41 Houston, Contending for Justice, 41. 39

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cultivation of goods that could be exported through trade may in fact represent the more congenial approach.42 This does not imply that the state (as empire or local fief) played no role. Some of the state directives that marked the preexilic-period landscape included the development of numerous labor-intensive water systems – e.g., Beer-Sheva, Beth-Shemesh, Gezer, and the Siloam Tunnel, which are often dated to just this period of time. All of these large undertakings suggest considerable centralized state authority and involvement, as do the lmlk stamp impressions. The specific nature of the connections of these projects to defense or trade is not always clear. The water system at Beer-Sheva, for instance, could have served more as a resource to sell to overland traders passing from the coast to Arabia than as a resource to withstand military siege.43 As a result, it seems best to imagine power as diversified into a number of hands, especially given the difficulty of ancient travel, which result in the likelihood of local powerful figures as well (cf. Isa 3:15).44 All in all, significant amounts of data exist to support some social stratification of ancient Israel and Judah during the eighth and seventh centuries. One striking piece of data is the imported fish from as far away as the Nile found in Jerusalem and elsewhere. Yet the Assyrian presence was quite close from the late eighth century onwards, given the palace constructed at Ramat Rahel at this time. If this palace was a sign of Assyrian hegemony, then the “Judahite elites” thrust into the roles of perpetrators of economic crimes by modern interpreters of the prophets may have had rather cozy relationships with Assyrian emissaries. This depiction would gel well with the presence of most meat-related animal bones at Ekron in the same structures where the largest concentration of Assyrian remains appear.45 However, trade also flourished, at least in the Shephelah oil presses and the wine industry near port of Ashkelon, with its market and the wide variety of origins for the pottery and trade goods present. This trade instead indicates a diversity of power and economic structures. In contrast especially with Cheney’s approach, Houston conceives of the ancient Israelite economy through the model of a patronage system. First, he differentiates generally between the preexilic period, when he views the existence of a village kinship network as dominant for the rural areas, and later eras. He also proposes a developing patronage system, which first came about with

42

Coomber, Re-Reading the Prophets, 109. Thanks to Ido Koch for pointing this out to me. 44 I have also argued for a diversification of power at the feasts in Deuteronomy in Altmann, Festive Meals in Ancient Israel; cf. Kessler, Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda, 202–7. 45 This notion fits well with the analysis of modern Tunesia in Coomber, Re-Reading the Prophets. 43

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the growth of urban centers. This system then grew to dominance in the subsequent epochs (Persian and Hellenistic). He describes this patronage system as follows: The relationship is a vertical one between a more powerful individual (the patron) and a less powerful one (the client). It is a personal relationship, depending on face to face contact and personal trust. The patron has access to resources which the client needs and does not have direct access to, such as means of production, markets for his/her produce, money for loans or grants, jobs or influence with others who can provide them, or influence with the authorities or with the courts. In return for supplying the client with these resources, the patron expects loyalty and solidarity, support for him in his political dealings, gifts from time to time of course, and labour services in some societies.46

Of note in this description is the particularly social nature of the structure, setting economic dealings firmly within a framework of honor, loyalty, and other non-material values. Second, Houston finds it important to distinguish between kinship structures and patronage structures. Kinship language appears (such as “brother” in Deut 15), but he argues that there is not really any family connection. Instead, “Because of its vertical and exclusive character it tends to weaken horizontal relationships based on kinship or neighbourhood, particularly on the side of the client. Patrons bypass the extended family to deal directly with nuclear families …”47 The attempt at differentiation leads to placing the development of the patronage system in the context of the growth of urban centers in the preexilic period. Houston postulates that the clients were generally those who migrated to the cities because they did not themselves inherit landholdings. They went to the cities because of “… their apparent opportunities of employment and advancement.”48 Houston’s image of “urban centers” seems overblown, however. Especially following 701 BCE, only Jerusalem could fit the category of “city” in Judah. The extent of a non-kin patronage system based in an urban center is also difficult for Persian-period Yehud, which was quite under-populated and devoid of an “urban” center.49 The proposal of non-kin patronage could fit for the Persian period if an urban situation is not required, however. The surmised collapse of the clan structure that accompanied the Exile (or earlier), coupled with the trading possibilities that opened up in the context of a decentralized manner as the Persian period progress, could present just such an opportunity in the Persian period. These developments might even have occurred earlier (under

46

Houston, Contending for Justice, 44. He relies on the work of Simkins, Domeris, and Eisenstadt and Roniger. 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid., 39. 49 The circumscribed nature of Jerusalem during the Persian period is discussed below, 4.4.1. The Reebuilding of the Temple, the City of Jerusalem, and Demography.

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the pax Assyriana), had it continued on longer. However, the destructions accompanying Babylonian hegemony circumscribed such progressions. Returning to the preexilic period, some type of elite balance to the king is on display both in the preexilic legal texts of Deuteronomy,50 as well as in the narration of Josiah’s rise to the throne with the help of the ‫ עם הארץ‬in 2 Kgs 22. Whether these are clan leaders or patrons is difficult to tell. In the midst of these larger structures, several observations point to at least a minimal existence of market exchange, where one could purchase the necessities of life, regardless of one’s social position.51 First, there are the hacksilber hoards found at Ekron. Along with these, a number of the weights found in Judah were so small, that if they had a use for trade (and not merely some sort of symbolic display value), then they could only meaningfully have been used to measure precious metals. Finally, as mentioned earlier, there are the archeobotanical remains of wheat from the Judean highlands and Jezreel at Ashkelon. Pulling together the wide variety of views on the preexilic period, several things can be said. Many interpreters are quick to assume either quite significant trade – even internal trade – of both luxury and daily goods. Such positions assume an ease of transport that seems strained for the time and place. This is not to minimize trade completely, for Master and Stager have demonstrated the presence of a marketplace in Ashkelon otherwise difficult to explain. As such, some trade of foodstuffs likely took place, but conclusions like those of Faust and Weiss that there were regions more or less set up for different products imports far too much top-down organization. This criticism also extends to the model put forth by Chaney and Premnath. Their interpretation of the prophetic texts places too much control in the hands of the monarchy or nobles: organizing peasant farmers and dictating their crop regimes relies on structures of power that were inconceivable of else not implemented in the ancient world. The state(s) did extract goods, especially for paying tribute, as well as labor for their building projects. The Assyrian overlords, furthermore, did demonstrate some hands-on interaction, though perhaps only in relation to the Arabian spice trade. The extent of the imperial and regional royal reach, however, was limited. The state of affairs “on the ground” in the preexilic period will shed light on the writings from that time, on the one hand, and it also provides an essential base for the changed situation under the Persians.

50 51

Altmann, Festive Meals in Ancient Israel, 129–30, 208–10. Cf. Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 170–77.

Excurses: Prices and Exchange

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Excurses: Prices and Exchange Excurses: Prices and Exchange

In the modern world, economics leads to the immediate consideration of prices, growth, production, inflation, and so on. One of the difficulties in the ancient world is how one can determine these factors. Diverse data can offer a framework for such considerations. This discussion incorporates the Neo-Assyrian down to even some Hellenistic period data in order to provide context for the biblical material. The first point that should be made for the West Asian/ancient Near Eastern context of the first millennium BCE is that coinage never came to dominate in the same way that it did in Greece. As I discuss below, this does not mean that markets did not exist, nor that “money” was not used. Much of this is a matter of definition (see below 4.3.1 The Rise of Coinage: Historical and Methodological Reflections). This does mean that weighed silver and other goods functioned as money, per se. Furthermore, wages or prices could be given in silver (shekels) or in amounts of other products, often barley or dates. The basic unit of silver measurement was the shekel, which was 8.33g in Babylon. The mina was 60 times this amount (50g), and smaller units, such as the “grain” or hallar (0.308 g, or 1/40 shekel), appear as well. With regard to silver, beginning no later than the Neo-Babylonian and the early Achaemenid period, silver was used for quite small transactions, contradicting conceptions in earlier scholarship. Records indicate even such small amounts as 1/40 of a shekel, or 0.308 g. Thus, silver was even used in little transactions, like buying three liters of barley in the middle of the sixth century.52 This evidence shows that even before the Persian period, regular transactions of a market type took place in urban settings.53 This evidence shows that prices, or at minimum equivalencies, were widespread before the appearance of coinage. Furthermore, silver was not merely used for exchange of luxury items. The fact that trade took place in such small measurements indicates that its use spread more broadly, thereby influencing both exchange practices and conceptions of trade. The largest quantity of actual price data comes from Babylon, but it is still too little to determine closely the economic state of affairs. One prominent and yet rather controversial source from the Neo-Babylonian to the Late Babylonian (Seleucid) period are the “Astronomical Diaries” maintained by temple functionaries. These tablets focus on recording astronomical phenomena, but they also recorded the amounts for six basic commodities – barley, dates, wool, 52

Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 626. Johannes Hackl, in ibid., 641. Hackl provides examples of small payments: “A quarter of a shekel – an amount mentioned relatively frequently in these texts – bought twelve litres of flour in this period (BM 82736), roughly the equivalent, according to some texts, of two days of work of an untrained slave or slave woman, or a pair of leather sandals (VS 6, 317). 53

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sesame, and two others that cannot be completely identified (cardamom/cress and mustard/cuscuta) – that could be purchased for one shekel. Slotzky was the first to analyze the data systematically. She focused on the middle Persian period to the Parthian hegemony (463–72 BCE).54 The prices for barley fluctuated wildly, though this is, of course, more than a 400-year period, and it includes times of war and peace. While her conclusions have not been unanimously accepted, the price fluctuations can reasonably be explained as demonstrating market prices. In fact, subsequent interpretations have indicated that these price records even demonstrate seasonal changes. This conclusion also assumes, however, that there is aberrant price data that reflect other phenomena, such as war or disease.55 The importance of this data is that it further supports the argument that prices were not merely a matter of royal propaganda. They did have meaning in the regular affairs of at least city residents and could be observed just like astral phenomena. With regard to wages, a good baseline are the calculations furnished by Jursa for the maintenance of an urban household during Nabonidus, “ … the minimum requirement for subsistence of an urban household without institutional affiliations would have been in the region of twenty-two shekels or twenty-two kurru (180 liters) of dates or barley per year, on the basis of price levels during the reign of Nabonidus (sixteen shekels/kurru for food, three shekels/kurru for textiles, three shekels/kurru for housing).56 These would not equal the entire means necessary for the maintenance of a household: households would likely have some holdings and gardens of their own. What this data does show is that the oft proposed standard wage of one shekel per month does not fit this reality. And, furthermore, the data presented in Jursa’s volume suggests that even the lowest continual wages were two shekels per month.57 Wages appear to have increased under Darius, though there is too little data to be conclusive. Records are of seven to ten shekels a month for corvée labor, which are also the amounts found during Xerxes, though they appear to drop again by the end of the fourth century (the Hellenistic period!).58 As shown in detail below, temples and the royal sectors were forced to pay

54

Alice Louise Slotsky, The Bourse of Babylon: Market Quotations in the Astronomical Diaries of Babylonia (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 1997). 55 Peter Temin, “Price Behavior in Ancient Babylon,” Explorations in Economic History 39 (2002): 46–60; R. J. van der Spek and C. A. Mandemakers, “Sense and Nonsense in the Statistical Approach of Babylonian Prices,” BO 60 (2003): 521–37. 56 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 298. 57 He places this low wage at the end of Nebuchadnezzar and the beginning of Nabonidus’ reign, presuming that the wages beofre and afer were higher (ibid., 677 and n. 2523) 58 Ibid., 677.

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silver wages at peak times of construction and agriculture, though these wages were not year-round stipends.59 Within the biblical text, as was normal for the rest of ancient world, the terms later used for money first function as designations of weight. For example, gold earrings (Gen 24:22) are said to weigh ½ a shekel (‫ ;בקע משׁקלו‬LXX: ανα δραχμην ολκης).60 In terms of prices, there is a wide variety of evidence from diverse historical periods. Prices for staples appear as follows: 2 Kgs 7:1 (cf. vv. 16, 18) equates one shekel (one assumes of silver) with two seahs (1 seah = 12.148 l or 10.696 quarts)61 of barley, which was about 10 Babylonian qa, and the same amount for one seah of fine flour. The context sets this up as a “normal” price relationship – though this price appears quite high when compared to the Astronomical Diaries62 – and contrasts with the famine conditions (cf. the opposite extreme in 2 Kgs 6:25). Several other payments in weighed silver appear for specialized services: Saul’s servant suggests a quarter shekel of silver payment for the “man of God” (Samuel) for the service of telling them where to find their donkeys (1 Sam 9:8). The price for sharpening iron tools of “two-thirds of a shekel for the plowshares and for the mattocks, and one-third of a shekel for sharpening the axes and for setting the goads” (1 Sam 13:21 [NRSV]) concerns an inflated price due to the Philistine oppression that rid Israel of smiths. And these prices do seem quite high when compared to the annual incomes of a regular laborer in Neo-Babylonian and early Achaemenid Babylonia of 22 shekels per year. Prices for redeeming a person dedicated (as a slave) to the sanctuary also appear in the quite late text of Lev 27:3–4. This text sets the price of redemption of an adult male at fifty shekels of silver and a female at thirty. These may, to hypothesize wildly, be equal to two years of wages for the person in mind, extrapolating from the sixth-century Babylonian material.63 The thirty shekels equals the price of a slave (either gender) in Exod 21:32, which is an earlier text. While attempts to quantify this amount in modern terms are understandably few, Murphy calculates it as £3.335 in raw silver (approx. $5.00), which he 59

Francis Joannès, “Prix et salaires en Babylonie du VIIe au IIIe siècle avant notre ère,” in Économie antique: prix et formation des prix dans ses économies antiques, ed. J. Andreau, P. Briant, and R. Descat, Entretiens d’archéologie et d’histoire 3 (Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges: Musée Archéologique Départemental, 1997), 323. 60 In Exod 30:13 a shekel (LXX: διδραχµον) is also equal to twenty gerahs (LXX: οβολοι) of the sanctuary weight (also Lev 27:25; Num 3:47; Ezek 45:12). 61 BDB, 684. A liter of flour could be between 400–500g, depending on the quality of flour. Note that this price is double the Neo-Babylonian price for barley given above – more if the shekel in Israel/Palestine was slightly heavier than the Babylonian shekel. 62 Van der Spek and Mandemakers, “Sense and Nonsense,” 535–38. 63 Note in my discussion below of Deut 15:18 the suggestion that a debt slave in LH worked three years to become free.

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understands in 1880 terms (when his commentary was written) would be worth ten to twenty times that value ($50–$100 in 1880).64 Elder males are valued at fifteen, women at ten. Children in Lev 27:5–6 are also valued differently according to gender (male twenty; female ten; toddlers: five versus three). This value structure could be based on work potential. Several other prices or fines for people are recorded: fifteen shekels and some payments in kind for a wife (Hos 3:2) and a hundred shekels as a fine for slandering a girl and her family by claiming she was not a virgin at her wedding (Deut 22:19; cf. 22:29). The latter is quite steep, perhaps taking symbolic value into consideration. The biblical texts often define real estate in terms of shekels. Yet based both on the symbolic value placed on land in various texts like 1 Kgs 21 (Naboth’s vineyard) and in Babylonia (see below), people were generally loathe to sell their land. This dynamic is striking given that the land was under-populated (except at some points in time in the direct environs of Jerusalem) after 701 BCE through the Persian period. For such land sales as did occur, a basic and logical approach to determining a price appears in Lev 27:16. This verse determines the value of a plot on the basis of its agricultural potential: “… in accordance with its seed requirements: fifty shekels of silver to a homer of barley seed” (NRSV). However, other factors also play a role. David pays fifty shekels of silver for Aruanah’s threshing floor and oxen (2 Sam 24:24). In comparison, Jeremiah’s price of seventeen shekels (Jer 32:9) seems paltry. Nonetheless, both of these texts are meant to indicate an inflated value for the portrayed context. David pays more to display his piety, while Jeremiah does so to indicate that the land of Anathoth will at some point in the future be worth a significant amount. When set beside these two texts, Abraham pays an astronomical amount for the plot of land (for burial) at Machpelah – 400 shekels of silver (Gen 23:15– 16). Levin interprets this as a sign of the fulfillment of the divine promise in that Abraham has received royal wealth.65 Payments of small amounts of silver to the sanctuary are also calculated in shekels, resulting in a measure of 1 sanctuary shekel = 20 gerahs.66 Nehemiah 64 James Gracey Murphy, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Exodus, ICC (New York: Funk, 1881), 159. Neither Rashi, Childs, nor Noth addresses this question in their commentaries. 65 Christoph Levin, “Abraham erwirbt seine Grablege (Gen 23),” in “Gerechtigkeit und Recht zu üben” (Gen 18,19) Studien zur altorientalischen und biblischen Rechtsgeschichte, zur Religionsgeschichte Israels und zur Religionssoziologie: Festschrift für Eckart Otto zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Achenbach, BZABR 13 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009), 103. 66 In archaeological contexts the ratio 1 shekel = 24 gerah is attested. Cf. Raz Kletter, Economic Keystones: The Weight System of the Kingdom of Judah, JSOTSup 276 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 80–83, 140.

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10:32 records an agreement to pay 1/3 of a shekel yearly to the temple.67 These contributions will receive more attention below. In sum, these amounts originate from widely different temporal locations. The prices for land all intend to indicate large amounts for the parcels, given the buyers’ rhetorical goals. The prices related to slave redemption could correspond to amounts paid to hired laborers – perhaps two years of work.

3.2. Economics in Preexilic Biblical Texts 3.2. Economics in Preexilic Biblical Texts

In order to continue developing a diachronic view of the economy in Israel, on the one hand, and of Israel’s traditional approach to economic questions, this section turns to preexilic biblical texts. Laying this foundation is essential for understanding the traditional elements and the changes that arise in the Persian period texts. On the background of the discussion of the economy itself and an overview of prices, my discussion is organized according to the various genres of prophetic, legal, and narrative texts. In general the results show that economics, especially trade, generally remain intertwined with issues of abuse of judicial or other types of power, with little direct engagement by the biblical texts in matters of economics themselves.68 In terms of theology, God generally delegates the role of caring for the poor to kings, rulers, and magistrates. These human figures should lay more value on just decisions and maintaining a basic level of subsistence, rather than on their own economic progress when carrying out their responsibilities. However, especially in the legal texts of Exodus and Deuteronomy, the divine role expands into something of a divine accountant and pay master, keeping track of and repaying loans made to the liminal in society.

67

Cf. Oren Tal, “Coin Denominations and Weight Standards in Fourth-Century BCE Palestine,” Israel Numismatic Research 2 (2007): 17–28. He provides comparisons during this late period beween the various weights of coins from across the Levant. He sees the weight in Elephantine relating to the Babylonian sheqel (8.6 g), while Yehud (10.8 g) and Samaria (14.52 g), for instance, continued weighing coins based on their own private standards. These standards, according to Tal, follow the preexilic standard. 68 There is also a very agrarian idealization of economics in the depiction Saul and his oxen in 1 Sam 9, as well as economic implications in Absalom’s burning of an adjacent field belonging to Joab in 2 Sam 14:30ff. However, my discussion attempts to track the trajectory of the importance of royal ideology and any possible marketplace exchange, which the postexilic texts then adopt. One might note the traditional theme of the agricultural ruler, also found in the Middle and Neo-Assyrian tradition.

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3. Economics, Cult, and Society in Preexilic Biblical Texts

3.2.1. Prophets The Prophets tend to be the first destination for investigations of economics in the preexilic period. The concern here is, for the most part, justice for those experiencing economic oppression. Taking a wide overview of eighth–seventh century texts investigated, for example, by Kessler, Yahweh plays a relatively minimal role in economic interactions per se. Two texts in particular have played leading parts in the discussion of the preexilic economy: Isa 5:8–10 and Mic 2:1–2. Coomber, for instance, focuses only on these two texts in his monograph, while Kessler contends, “Jes 5,8 ist – zusammen mit Mi 2,1f – locus classicus, wenn die Frage nach dem Charakter der sozialen Krise im Juda des 8. Jahrhunderts gestellt wird.”69 However, Houston devotes considerable attention to Amos,70 which will provide the initial gateway for my discussion, as it provides considerable engagement with economic concerns. The book of Amos, beginning in the prophet’s activity in the mid-eighth century, and therefore the earliest starting point of these critiques, puts economics on display in its denunciations of Israel (2:6–8), the “cows of Bashan” (4:1–2),71 greed exemplified in perverted justice at the gate (5:10–12), and the dishonest dealing at the market to the detriment of the poor (6:4–6). While the dates of these texts may vary, what is striking is that in all of them direct divine action remains limited. Amos 2:6–8 is exemplary in this aspect: Thus says the Lord: For three transgressions of Israel, and for four, I will not revoke the punishment; because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals72 – they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth, and push the afflicted out of the way; father and son cohabit with the same girl, in order to profane my holy name; they lay themselves down beside every altar on garments taken in distraint;73 and in the house of their God they drink wine bought with fines they imposed.

The text surprises in that it places domestic economic actions alongside the war crimes of the previous oracles against nations (1:3–2:3). Amos 2 critiques the priority given to economic advancement (vv. 6–7) and pleasure (vv. 7–8) in 69

Kessler, Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda, 35. Houston, Contending for Justice, 58–73. 71 Cf. the critique of indulgent riches in 6:4–6. Konrad Schmid, “The Latter Prophets (Nevi’im),” in T&T Clark Handbook of the Old Testament: An Introduction to the Literature, Religion and History of the Old Testament, ed. J. C. Gertz, 1st ed. (Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2012), 493, understands these denunciations against the eighth-century background; cf. Konrad Schmid, The Old Testament: A Literary History (Fortress Press, 2012), 87–91. 72 Shalom M. Paul, Amos: A Commentary on the Book of Amos, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 77–79 repoints ‫ נעלים‬to understand it from the root “‫עלם‬, to hide,” meaning that which is hidden, which he supports from the LXX of 1 Sam 12:3. This can naturally also carry economic implications. 73 Ibid., 83–84, following Milgrom, argues this is a distraint rather than a pledge; cf. Job 24:9 . 70

3.2. Economics in Preexilic Biblical Texts

67

place of justice and care for the integrity and well-being of the poor or powerless. There is little sign of the bending or breaking of laws in this section. While the denunciation of sexual impropriety in v. 7 – if the text is understood in this way – may be different in this regard, there actually is no biblical law against it.74 God’s role, given in v. 6, is as bringer of an impending destruction (cf. Mic 3:9–12 for a similar logic). The setting, as Houston observes for Amos’ critique, could be more urban, given the background of selling, for silver and collection of fines.75 It certainly presumes some sort of market interaction. However, these actions could also be posited at a cultic site like Dan or Bethel, given the presence of the altar and feasting.76 Centralized elite pursuit of pleasure is found in the crosshairs of critique in 4:1 (Samaria) and 6:4–6 (Samaria and Jerusalem). The divine role again is as the punishing judge, sending the perpetrators into exile. As a whole, the critique in Amos is directed against the abuse of political and economic power that leads to exploitation of those with less power. God’s role is one of punishing these abusers, who do not carry out their ascribed roles of patron and judge, but God does not demonstrate deep or direct involvement in the economic process. Turning to Isaiah, 5:8–10 has been used by Coomber as a case-in-point for latifundia,77 yet, as Kessler points out, the text does not state what these landowners actually do with the land.78 They are, according to v. 8, actually left alone in the land, possibly suggesting that the previous landowners had moved away. The ultimate result, in any case, is that yields will be poor, suggesting something of a logical connection between wrong behavior and negative consequence. God is the mover in the background that controls the ultimate outcome of the harvest, perhaps, but not more. In other significant texts from Isaiah, the divine role plays out in the realm of just dealing. In Isa 1:10–17, Yahweh does not delight in sacrifice when “you” trample his courts (v. 12). There are “assemblies of iniquity” (v. 13), and crime-stained hands (v. 15). Verse 17 is more specific: one should devote themselves to justice, aid the wronged, uphold the rights of the orphan, and defend the widow’s cause. So the role of God is to call the people to work for an economically just society. It does not conceive of direct divine intervention in economic matters. 74 Ibid., 82–83, describes it, correctly, as another example of taking advantage of a defenseless person. 75 Houston, Contending for Justice, 61. 76 Cf. Jonathan S. Greer, Dinner at Dan: Biblical and Archaeological Evidence for Sacred Feasts at Iron Age II Tel Dan and Their Significance, CHANE 66 (Brill, 2013). 77 Coomber, Re-Reading the Prophets. 78 Kessler, Staat und Gesellschaft im vorexilischen Juda, 35–36.

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3. Economics, Cult, and Society in Preexilic Biblical Texts

Houston lays out the various options for the background of the woe oracle of Mic 2:1–2, which addresses those using their power to plan and carry out economic oppression by seizing fields and houses. It could be confiscation for military purposes in preparation for defense against Assyria or the more traditional interpretation of rich urban creditors taking advantage of the rural poor debtors, yet there remains little support for a class of rural poor. A third option, which he prefers, is poor farms located in the vicinity of Jerusalem.79 However, while Mic 2:1–2 is also generally set in the preexilic period, Ben Zvi aptly points out that the text contains no specific markers limiting it to this period: The sinners are initially described as ‘those who devise wickedness’ and the like which is hardly a feature that can be associated only with a particular group at a well-defined time. The description then moves to the characteristic actions assigned by the speaker to those who devise wickedness: coveting fields, taking houses, oppressing a householder, and the like. Both the socioeconomic processes that are condemned by this language (the concentration of land property through foreclosure and similar actions) and its evaluation as robbery and the like are a common and recurrent feature in agrarian societies and a common literary and theological topos in the ancient Near East and beyond. Biblical texts explicitly associate such a state of affairs with monarchic Judah as well as with Persian Yehud (see Nehemiah 5).80

Neither does God’s response imply that the text must reflect preexilic circumstances. Regardless, the outcome Micah proclaims is that their fields will end up in the hands of a “rebel” (‫)לשׁובב‬, if v. 4 can be brought in connection with the actions of vv. 1–2. In 2:9 women are driven from their homes, so Yahweh will see to it that the guilty also will have no resting place (v. 10) there, like Isa 5:8–10 exhibiting a logical consequence. The situation in Mic 6:9–15 is quite similar: the denunciation of “granaries of wickedness” and dishonest scales will result in their harvests being minimal. Zephaniah 1:12–14 exhibits a similar logic: Yahweh will bring destruction on the rich who rest in their wealth. Their riches will be plundered, and they will build houses and plant vineyards but not enjoy the yield. The instrument of this futility curse remains unnamed. In terms of the divine involvement in the economic processes and economic justice in these texts, Yahweh operates as keeper of the system of logical desserts. As guarantor of the system, the Gottesvorstellung nears that of a “mechanical” operator like Adam Smith or Isaac Newton’s God, though of course such an appellation is anachronistic.81 79

Houston, Contending for Justice, 76–77. Ehud Ben Zvi, Micah, FOTL 21B (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), 54, cf. 44. 81 Walter O. Ötsch, “Gottes-Bilder und ökonomische Theorie: Naturtheologie und Moralität bei Adam Smith,” in Ökonomie und Religion, ed. M. Held, G. Kubon-Gilke, and R. Sturn, Jahrbuch normative und institutionelle Grundfragen der Ökonomik Band 6 (Marburg: Metropolis, 2007), 161–79. 80

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One might argue that the prophetic vision of these texts still maintains that a just human ruler would carry out economic justice in the sense promulgated by LH and the general ancient Near Eastern portrayal of the ruler as the guardian of economic prosperity and justice. This perspective occurs in Isaiah. Isaiah 1:21–26 proclaims that there is no justice or righteousness in Jerusalem. The rulers work with, rather than against thieves, and these rulers are greedy for gifts, rather than looking out for the weak. So God will bring vengeance and replace these rulers and judges with other ones, like those of past times. The divine role here emerges as the one who will replace the unjust leaders. God’s role in human society thus takes on a more active, political nature. On the other hand, God’s role, as well known, also extends to that of an advocate and deliverer for the economically oppressed in the preexilic prophets. In the economic concerns arising in Isa 3:12–15, v. 14 charges the elders and officers with ravaging (lit. “burning”) the vineyard and robbing from the poor. Here Yahweh advocates for justice: “Yahweh will bring this charge against the elders …” about stealing from the poor. Divine action becomes more direct, however, in Mic 7:1–7. Their hands are skilled to do evil; the official and the judge ask for a bribe, and the powerful dictate what they desire; thus they pervert justice. The best of them is like a brier, the most upright of them a thorn hedge. The day of their sentinels, of their punishment, has come; now their confusion is at hand. … But as for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me. (7:3–4, 7)

In v. 3 the judges and rich are denounced for working together to increase their riches dishonestly. Only Yahweh can be trusted for salvation (“the god of my salvation”; ‫)לאלהי ישׁעי‬, according to v. 7, implying that God steps in where human judges have failed. This feature may well indicate a later, postexilic origin.82 In any case, it likely represents the lack of expectation that a human figure will step in as advocate. In all these texts, the divine role with regard to economics emerges as that akin to the basic role of the king in the broader ancient Near Eastern legal texts that were on view above. There is little direct engagement in the economy; in fact, the legal treatises from Mesopotamia and the proclamations of debt freedom are far more hands-on. Isaiah seems to imagine a similar role for Israelite/Judahite human leadership: the onus is on the human royalty to mete out and maintain economic justice on behalf of the weak. Only Mic 7:7 moves into the realm of “royal” action, but also this text evinces more of a general concern for general justice than specific economic concerns: named are magistrates demanding bribes and judges working for a fee from the crooked rich. The role taken on by God in Mic 7:7 comes quite close to that given to and imagined for the just king, for example, in Ps 72:83 82 83

Schmid, “The Latter Prophets (Nevi’im),” 501–2. Also Ps 82. Thanks to Dan Pioske for this reference.

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(1) O God, Give the king your justice, … (2) May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice. … (4) May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor. … (12) For he delivers the needy when they call, the poor and those who have no helper. (13) He has pity on the weak and the needy, and saves the lives of the needy. (14) From oppression and violence he redeems their life; and precious is their blood in his sight.

In this text, which could easily fit in the preexilic period from its theological outlook, the writer portrays the just king – the psalm is brought in connection with Solomon in the superscription – as the one who steps in for those without means of social, economic, or political power to take care of themselves, serving to deliver (‫ )נצל‬them and as their helper (‫)עזר‬. These are roles that the king, when considering the biblical texts synchronically, shares with God. The point of this comparison is that the majority of possibly preexilic prophetic texts limit the divine role to the installing of new leaders that will carry out God’s desired justice. It is rare that God moves directly into rescuing the poor, as found in Exod 2–11 in response to the Hebrews’ cry. One text that goes a step further is the direct rejection of deliverancethrough-riches in Zeph 1:18: “Neither their silver nor their gold will be able to deliver (‫ )להצילם‬them on the day of Yahweh’s wrath …” Again, this step beyond the general profile of divine interaction with the “economic sphere” coincides with the understanding of this text as a (late) postexilic piece.84 This text’s profile differs in that Yahweh’s wrath is directly set against the purchasing power of the fine metals. It is not about the enjoyment of their luxury, but rather their ability to buy that is in view. 3.2.2. Legal texts The role of economics in the preexilic biblical law corpora necessitates evaluating similarities and differences to the law corpora of the wider cultural environment. It is helpful, therefore, to keep in mind the discussion above of the Mesopotamian law treatises. The specific elements arising in the Mesopotamian and Hittite laws were the kings as guarantors of general economic abundance, the regulation of debt slavery and interest rates, and the kings as promulgators of the edicts of redress. The evaluation of the legal texts concerning interest is especially important for the Persian period considerations of debt and interest in Lev 25 and Neh 5. I presume that both the “Holiness Code” (Lev 84 Ibid., 510; Walter Dietrich, Nahum Habakuk Zefanja, IEKAT (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2014), 216, 219 views this verse as late postexilic / apocalyptic.

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17–26) and Neh 5 had access to the preexilic law traditions represented in the Covenant Code and Deuteronomy. Among these legal texts, the Covenant Code of the Exod 20–23 is the most agreed-upon example of a preexilic law treatise.85 The date of Deuteronomy, with the important economic discussions in chs. 15; 23; and 24, is more debated, though I find a preexilic date for at least parts of the law treatise most probable.86 Both treatises move beyond the actions of the prophets in that they address specific economic situations – lending practices and debt-slavery. Exodus generally follows the tendencies found in Mesopotamia and the prophets. Like LH, it regulates the period of debt slavery (if this is the thrust of LH §117) and calls for respectful lending practices. However, the particulars are quite different. Turning first to lending practices, Exod 22:24 (ET: 22:25) bans the charging of interest to “my people, the poor in your midst” – and threatens divine advocacy on behalf of powerless debtors if creditors take advantage of it, similar to the prophets: “His cry will [come] to me, and I will hear it” (v. 26 [ET: v. 27]): ‫אם־כסף תלוה את־עמי‬ ‫את־העני עמך‬ ‫לא־תהיה לו כנשׁה‬ ‫לא־תשׂימון עליו נשׁך׃‬ ‫אם־חבל תחבל שׂלמת רעך‬ ‫עד־בא השׁמשׁ תשׁיבנו לו׃‬ ‫כי הוא כסותה לבדה הוא שׂמלתו‬ ‫לערו‬ ‫במה ישׁכב‬ ‫והיה֙ כי־יצעק אלי‬ ‫ושׁמעתי כי־חנון אני׃‬

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

The striking contrast to the Mesopotamian law treatises appears in the fact that Exodus bans the charging of interest: “When you lend silver to the poor of my people, do not be like a ‫( נשׁה‬LXX: κατεπειγων), do not place upon him ‫נשׁך‬ (LXX: τοκον).” The Greek text clearly means not taking interest from the poor. Whether this is what the MT’s ‫ נשׁה‬means is less clear. In the MT text as it stands, and followed by the later Deut 23:20–21 [ET: 19–20], the prohibition 85 David P. Wright, Inventing God’s Law: How the Covenant Code of the Bible Used and Revised the Laws of Hammurabi (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009); Eckart Otto, Wandel der Rechtsbegründungen in der Gesellschaftsgeschichte des antiken Israel eine Rechtsgeschichte des “Bundesbuches” Ex XX 22-XXIII 13, StudBib 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1988). 86 Bernard M. Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (New York, N.Y.: Oxford University Press, 1997); Altmann, Festive Meals in Ancient Israel. For contrary views, cf. Reinhard G. Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, trans. J. Bowden (London: T&T Clark, 2005); E. Axel Knauf, “Observations on Judah’s Social and Economic History and the Dating of the Laws in Deuteronomy,” JHebS 9 (2009): Article 18.

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is against charging interest to fellow Israelites, at least the poor ones, those called “my people” (‫)עמי‬. While the ban seems universal, it is more likely that the kind of loan intended here, keeping with the tradition of the Mesopotamian law treatises and debt annulments, is a consumption loan.87 Nonetheless, it is striking that the text mentions loans of silver, while it omits loans of grain. The best solution may be that because it is accepted that loans of grain could not be beset with interest – because they were clearly consumption loans – then only interest on silver loans to the poor needed to be addressed.88 Deuteronomy 23:20–21 makes this difference between consumption and commercial loans explicit, naming the difference between “your brother” and “foreigners” (‫)נכרי‬. The permission to charge interest to the ‫ נכרי‬likely arises from their character as those who did not reside in the region (and thus not ‫)גר‬, and who were present in the capacity of travelling merchants.89 However, as Wright notes, the final clause of Exod 22:24 [ET: 22:25] (‫)לא תשׂימון עליו נשׁך‬, which explains a ‫ נשׁה‬as one who lends at interest, may be an explanatory addition.90 If this is the case, then the nature of the ‫ נשׁה‬lending remains elusive, and it is a good possibility that it was updated to bring it in line with the more general rejection of ‫ נשׁך‬throughout the Hebrew Bible (cf. Ps 15:5; Prov 28:8). In Deut 24:12–13 another important development takes place, this time in relation to the timely return of the distraint of a garment taken to push a debtor to repay in Exod 22:26: God moves into the active role of repaying the creditor through blessing for a particular economic action brings divine action into the economic sphere in a new way: ‫ואם־אישׁ עני הוא‬ ‫לא תשׁכב בעבטו׃‬ ‫השׁב תשׁיב לו את־העבוט כבא השׁמשׁ‬ ‫ושׁכב בשׂלמתו‬ ‫וברכך‬ ‫ולך תהיה צדקה לפני יהוה אלהיך׃‬

If the person is poor, you shall not sleep in the distraint. You shall give the distraint back by sunset, so that he may sleep in the cloak and bless you; and it will be to your credit before the Lord your God. (Deut 24:12–13).

NRSV picks up on this in its translation of ‫( צדקה‬usu. “justice; righteousness”), “… it will be to your credit before the Lord your God.” NJPS also translates “credit,” while the LXX uses ελεημοσυνη (“alms, charitable giving”).91 God 87 Cf. Cornelis Houtman, Das Bundesbuch: Ein Kommentar, DMOA 24 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 233. He states: “Das Darlehen, von dem 22,24 handelt, ist ein sog. Konsumkredit und kein kommerzielles Darlehen zur Bildung von Handelskapital. Der Schuldner ist kein Geschäftsmann, sondern ‘der Arme in deiner Umgebung.’” 88 This conclusion is based on the view of the law treatises primarily as legal reflections on noteworthy and difficult questions. 89 Baker, Tight Fists, 263. 90 Wright, Inventing God’s Law, 328. 91 Richard D. Nelson, Deuteronomy: A Commentary (Westminster John Knox, 2002), 291, explains it instead as a “righteous deed” coming from some kind of cultic formula.

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keeps an “economic tab” on the good deed of the lender. This development in God’s participation in the economic sphere is continued below in my discussion of Deut 15. The relationship between regulations on loans and debt-slavery is necessarily a close one. If I am correct in taking the prohibitions in Exod 22:24–26 and Deut 23:20–21 as addressing subsistence loans (versus the commercial loans one might give to a non-resident foreigner in Deut 23:21), then there is a certain systematic progression in the laws. First, Deut 23:20/Exod 22:24 formulate the best possible subsistence loan conditions – interest free. Then, Exod 22:25/Deut 24:12–13 prescribe the limit to which a lender can put pressure on a debtor to repay. Finally, if no repayment is forthcoming, then the debt-slavery scenario of Exod 21:2–11/Deut 15:12–18 obtains. The impulse behind Deut 15:1–11, then, attempts to come to terms with the expected reluctance on the part of anyone wealthy to make a loan: the lack of economic motivation in the form of either interest or long-term labor in the form of a debt slave and potential loss of capital (Deut 15:1–2, 9) is compensated by the economic potential of divine agricultural and national blessing (15:4–6, 10). God again functions as divine accountant, keeping track of and remunerating for economic contributions made to the poor. Futhermore, this text retains – albeit with the wealthy lenders rather than a sovereign – the nexus of divine blessing. Returning to the regulations on debt-slavery, Exod 21:2–11 is the earliest biblical text addressing this topic, and possibly concubinage as well. One striking difference from LH is the longer period of slavery required (six v. three years) to pay off a debt in the biblical text. Both formulations, however, demur on the particular relationship between the maximum period of time to any type of amount of silver or grain. The human labor is not generally calculable into a particular wage,92 a line of thinking carried over in Deut 15:18. However, Baker compares the six years of service with prices for chattel slaves throughout the ancient Near East, suggesting … three years’ service would be roughly equivalent in value to the price of a slave. Assuming the debtor is sold at the standard price for a slave, six years’ service to repay the debt means the creditor gets a worker at half the usual cost. This may be compared with §14 of the Laws

BDB: 842, lists Prov 8:18 and Joel 2:23 as other places where the word takes on shades of prosperity, though Joel 2:23 could be rendered “for vindication” (i.e., NRSV). Prov 8:18 reads ‫עשׁר־וכבוד אתי הון עתק וצדקה‬. 92 The singular use of ‫ פדה‬hiphil may imply some type of calculation, as assumed by Wright, Inventing God’s Law, 145. In this reading the father would then put up the amount needed to redeem his daughter. I find the argument that the creditor would be putting the daughter up for redemption prior to sexual intercourse convincing, as found in Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery, 248.

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of Lipit-Ishtar … which refers to freedom being granted after repayment of a sum equivalent to twice the original debt.93

This calculation could work, if ‫( משנה‬Deut 15:18) means “double” rather than “equivalent.”94 A problem with this position may arise when the debt was greater than the value of three years of work. However, such large loans were probably quite rare, given that these outlays concern subsistence loans. Deuteronomy 15 is likely an updated version of Exod 21. As mentioned above for Deut 23:21, a distinction is also made here between one’s “brother” and the “foreigner”: (v. 3) “Of a foreigner (‫ )נכרי‬you may exact it, but you must remit your claim on whatever any member of your community owes you… ” This section also includes a direct divine role in economic actions in keeping with Deut 23:21, which is generally a reversal of the condemnations of the prophets. Here, however, the divine role grows to include not only blessing of one’s individual agricultural or private wealth, but to include national economic and political blessing in 15:6: ‫כי־יהוה אלהיך ברכך‬ ‫כאשׁר דבר־לך‬ ‫והעבטת גוים רבים‬ ‫ואתה לא תעבט‬ ‫ומשׁלת בגוים רבים‬ ‫ובך לא ימשׁלו׃‬

When the Lord your God has blessed you, as he promised you, you will lend to many nations, but you will not borrow; you will rule over many nations, but they will not rule over you.

This national perspective goes beyond the individualized remuneration in the other Deuteronomy provisions. There is also a second major development in both Deut 15 and Exod 21 in comparison with the detailed royal debt releases: the biblical formulations relocate debt release from royal whim to regular intervals.95 The question of how this then came about in Judah no earlier than the Assyrian period is a difficult one.96 Yet the development shows, much in line with CC and Deuteronomy’s general programs, that the human king no longer maintains the same position of authority in the economic realm. This role passes to individual heads of households, who themselves will receive repayment from God in Deuteronomy. Thus, as others have shown, the diminution of the king in Deuteronomy – hotly debated is whether this points to a post-monarchic date for the early 93

Baker, Tight Fists, 148. See Nelson, Deuteronomy, 190, for discussion and references. 95 For a good discussion of the developments in this chapter see Houston, Contending for Justice, 181–87. 96 Niels Peter Lemche, “Andurārum and Mīšarum: Comments on the Problem of Social Edicts and Their Application in the Ancient near East,” JNES 38 (1979): 11–22 takes this as a reason to separate the two phenomena. I think this makes too much of the silence. This conclusion is especially true given some resonance in the Neo-Assyrian period. See Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery, 92. 94

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layers of the book97 – means that God and the community are thrust into the formerly royal positions. God and the broader community take on more deeply economic roles.98 By including the following section regulating debt-slavery, vv. 12–18, directly after the regular cancelling of outstanding loans, the chapter brings together topics scattered throughout other law treatises, i.e. LH §117 and A-s §3; §20.99 Various links have been proposed between this and the previous section, based on whether there was a set seven-year cycle for all terms of slavery, or if each individual’s term of slavery was set at six years, not keeping with the seven-year remission of debts in 15:1.100 The difficulty with separating the periods of time is related to the determination of the reason for slavery in vv. 12– 18. If all slavery of “Hebrews” was debt-slavery, as seems quite likely from the perspective of Deuteronomy’s vision of society, then the chronology of sections is linked: By cancelling the debts that underlie the enslavement (15:1– 2), there would be no more obligation for the slave’s labor to pay off. Other alternatives would be to understand the debt-slave as continuing to serve for a debt that has, in effect, been cancelled (or not, in this case), or that the passages arise from different redactional layers that do not form a coherent system. In sum, the (likely) preexilic biblical law corpora indicate increased divine and non-royal roles in the economic sphere. The monarch appears to have abdicated some responsibility in this regard. Or perhaps it is the case that the monarch could never be counted on to take part in the details of economic relations in such a detailed, everyday manner, thereby requiring the work of the village “everyman.”101 3.2.3. Kings While the historical location of the Book of Kings in its current form cannot be preexilic, many interpreters draw attention to the preexilic nature of numerous narratives and perhaps even versions within the book to this period.102 97

Given the significant movement of the CC in this direction, the argument for a postexilic origin for Deuteronomy on this basis is unsupported from this aspect. See Wright, Inventing God’s Law, 286–87. 98 Westbrook (“Social Justice in the Ancient Near East”) argues that this move shows the utopian character of Exod 21 and Deut 15 because this regularization of loans would make the actual application of the laws impossible. 99 Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery, 275. 100 For a summary of some of the arguments and a contrary position see ibid., 282–86. 101 The use of “man” here is intentionally gendered. 102 Thomas Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction (London: T&T Clark, 2005); Konrad Schmid, Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments: Eine Einführung (Darmstadt: WBG, 2008), 80–85. These European voices are, of course, in addition to the Harvard (Cross) School that sees at least one preexilic DtrH (Dtr1).

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Thus, while the dating of the following narratives is debated, I append discussion of them here. Specifically, as Nam’s monograph illustrates, 1–2 Kings in its current form allows for the differentiation of several modes of economic exchange understood along the lines of Polanyi’s categories – reciprocity, redistribution, and market exchange.103 To take the last category first, one clear example of market exchange, through still keeping within the long-established tradition of the royal regulation of economics, is the appearance of the thematic of price regulation in 2 Kgs 6–7. Just as in LH, an inscription of Shamshi-Adad I, the ninth-century Phoenician Kilamuwa inscription (KAI 24), Ashurbanipal, and then again in texts from the Neo-Babylonian king Nabonidus, this biblical narrative expects the king to intervene to maintain reasonable prices for necessary commodities: Sometime later King Ben-hadad of Aram mustered his entire army; he marched against Samaria and laid siege to it. As the siege continued, famine in Samaria became so great that a donkey’s head was sold for eighty shekels of silver, and one-fourth of a kab of dove’s dung for five shekels of silver. Now as the king of Israel was walking on the city wall, a woman cried out to him, “Help, my lord king!” He said, “No! Let the Lord help you. How can I help you? From the threshing floor or from the wine press?” (6:24–27, NRSV)

Then, a few verses later in response to the king’s accusation of the Lord: But Elisha said, “Hear the word of the Lord: thus says the Lord, Tomorrow about this time a measure of choice meal shall be sold for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel, at the gate of Samaria.” (NRSV; 2 Kgs 7:1; cf. vv. 16–18).

This passage shows that the biblical texts are at least aware of the expectation for the king to regulate the flow of basic goods and guarantee their availability for reasonable outlays. While the king should intervene, he cannot and does not, placing his responsibility on Yahweh directly. Elisha then takes up the mantle of establishing just prices.104 The narrative of the widow’s oil in 2 Kgs 4:1–7 only makes sense in a context where some kind of market transaction is imaginable.105 Given the finds of silver coils dating to the preexilic period, it could fit in that context. Every later date is also imaginable from this perspective. The economic dynamics of the depiction include, first, the possible debt slavery of children (not generally known in Mesopotamia, though a child could be given away or sold in a time of personal hunger or broader famine).106 Elisha commands the woman to sell (‫ )מכרי‬the oil in order to pay off this debt. She and her two children would then be able to live off [the proceeds of] the rest. The significance of the oil can of 103

Nam, Portrayals of Economic Exchange, 2. Cf. Ibid., 169. 105 Ibid., 16. 106 A. L. Oppenheim, “‘Siege-Documents’ from Nippur,” Iraq 17 (1955): 69–89.

104

3.3. Conclusions

77

course be brought into relation with the numerous olive presses known from preexilic Ekron that were intended for export purposes.107 If this connection is made, then there is a significant economic intervention on the part of the prophet. It is not just that the widow and her children receive provision. What is more, they take part in an export-oriented trade that many be understood as having negative repercussions for small farmers (though it is unclear the widow’s relationship to this group). God thus redirects the profits to his charges. When read alongside the precepts of the law treatises, these are the groups in society that he (and the community) should care for, because the monarch has failed.

3.3. Conclusions 3.3. Conclusions

As a whole these texts present a variegated tradition for their successors after the Exile to adopt and work with. Without having investigated every preexilic text in depth, several conclusions can still be drawn from the handling of economic issues in the biblical texts of the preexilic period. In preexilic prophecy God expects the leaders, from the king to the magistrates, to uphold fair standards of trade for everyone taking part in market transactions, as in Amos 8:4– 6. In these texts, God does not directly intervene in economic transactions, but rather calls those in positions of authority to account. There is also a further push looking beyond the strictly following the letter of the law with regard to particular actions. The prophets call patrons or elites to care for the needs of the powerless, even if harsh treatment of debtors is legal (Amos 5:10–12). Within the context of these critiques, Amos, Micah (2:1–2, 9), and Isaiah (5:8–10) threaten logical consequences of an economic fashion. A final role attributed to God is as advocate for the powerless – a generally royal role (Mic 7:7) – where no other suitable advocate appears. As the role of advocate for the powerless goes unfulfilled, then the legal treatises push the heads of households into the role of human representative of the divine. God in turn takes on the role of “divine accountant,” promising to make good on the loans given out to the poor in Deut 15 and Exod 22. This step is the most significant one made in these texts. Closely related, the legal treatises of Exodus and Deuteronomy also set stringent limits on the exacting of interest. God as the “divine accountant” appears as a mechanism of reward intended to replace interest or work by debt slaves. With regard to the depiction of the divine, however, the conclusion from the preexilic period is that despite at times considerable economic upheaval, economics themselves do not strongly alter the conceptualization of the divine in 107

Faust and Weiss, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World,” 75–77.

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the biblical texts. At most, the metaphor “God is a king” leads to God taking on some royal responsibilities known from as far afield as Old Babylonian law treatises, especially when the human monarch fails to measure up. In general, however, God demands that those in power step up to the task or be replaced by others, in the manner that Elisha replaces the king in 2 Kgs 6–7 as the agent responsible for establishing just prices.

Chapter 4

The Economic Background of the Persian Period As noted in the Introduction, there is an observable rise in the interest in economics and the use of economic metaphors and ways of thinking in later Old Testament texts, especially Ezra-Nehemiah. Why did this development take place? This chapter provides a partial answer, recounting decisive developments that took place in the economic structures and life of the Judean communities in the Persian Period (and on into the early Hellenistic Period). The texts written in this period reflect attempts to come to grips with these developments, drawing on the traditional textual resources from earlier periods. The most striking traces of the economic changes, however, do not always appear in texts that directly address new economic situations, per se, but rather in further developments of the community’s understanding of theology and of their own community that reflect interaction with the economic developments of the time. In order to lay the groundwork for investigating the texts themselves, this chapter will lay out the economic changes themselves. Before launching into the various sections, a word of justification for the length of this chapter appears in order. While this volume is not a full-fledged “economics of the Persian Period,” to date no such volume has been written. As a result, in order to provide an adequate backdrop for interpretation of the Persian period biblical texts, this discussion offers an overview of the economic situation in numerous historical and geographical settings. I begin with the developments after the fall of Jerusalem and Judah under Babylonian hegemony. The discussion then moves to the transition to the Persian period. I survey this period broadly, first with regard to the development of coinage, which in the view of many scholars functions as the mark of an economic revolution.1 The discussion then journeys through the Persian and Greek contexts, from Persia proper to Babylon and Athens, before circling geographically and culturally closer to Yehud – Phoenicia, Philistia, Egypt, Elephantine, Samaria, and Idumea. The chapter finishes with the archaeological background of Yehud itself and an attempt at an overview of the economics of the province in the Persian period.

1

It seems to function this way for Seaford, Money and the Early Greek Mind.

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4.1. The Babylonian Period in Yehud 4.1. The Babylonian Period in Yehud

The exile, or better exiles, taking place at the beginning of the sixth century provides one of the most important – if not the most important – historical impetus for the writing of Old Testament literature and therefore finds reflexes throughout the canon.2 The economic fallout related with this turn of events appears in the final chapters of 2 Kings, where mention is made that only the poor were left behind (2 Kgs 25:12; cf. Jer 40:7–12). While the percentage of the population forced to migrate by the Babylonians as accepted by earlier scholarship can be questioned such that “the land” was not “empty” during the exile,3 it still remains the case that significant changes took place, and not only for the exiled elite. In fact, Stern notes that there is a break not just in the mountainous regions of Judah, but throughout the southern Levant – with several exceptions such as Benjamin (perhaps) and central Samaria – in the material culture from the Assyrian period to the Persian period. This conclusion has also been overlooked by some strands of recent scholarship. Philistia, the northern coast, Lachish, En-Gedi, and the Beer-sheva valley all underwent destruction and do not evince Babylonian period remains.4 Furthermore, even if not destroyed, the Babylonian army can be expected to have taken whatever spoils it could.5 As a result, the archaeology of the Babylonian period, the sixth century BCE, in Israel-Palestine has been something of a desiderata, one that especially the recent work by Lipschits seeks to address. As an overarching statement, the most drastic changes occurred at what was the center of the fallen Judahite state, in Jerusalem.

2

David M. Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 225; cf. (ibid, 226), where Carr notes: “... the Hebrew Bible is a ‘Bible for exiles.’” 3 One of the decisive publications came with Hans M. Barstad, The Myth of the Empty Land: a Study in the History and Archaeology of Judah during the “Exilic” Period (SO 28; Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1996). A recent statement, though with more archaeological nuance, can also be found in Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 98. He argues, “… this elite deliberately tried to conceal ‘the people who remained in the land of Judah’ from the historical records and wished to present themselves as coming to an empty land. This is not an unusual inclination, either in world history or in Jewish history, and I believe it was one of the major reasons for the rewriting of the history of this period, the editors' chief aim being to deliver an ideological message to their generation.” 4 Ephraim Stern, “The Babylonian Gap: The Archaeological Reality,” JSOT 28 (2004): 273–77. 5 J. Maxwell Miller and John H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986), 417.

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If we focus the discussion on Judah, the most conspicuous archaeological phenomenon after the destruction of Jerusalem is a sharp decline in urban life, which is in contrast to the continuity of the rural settlements in the highland of Judah, particularly in the area between Hebron and the territory of Benjamin. This settlement pattern continued throughout the Persian Period when, despite the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the restoration of its status as the capital of the province, urban life remained insubstantial; settlement in Judah continued to be largely rural. The unavoidable conclusion is that a marked change in the nature of the settled areas took place during the Babylonian Period: Jerusalem was destroyed, as were the border cities in the west of the kingdom, and as a result there was a gradual collapse of the border regions in the southern and eastern sectors of Judah. In contrast, in the Benjamin region and in the highland of Judah, there was no destruction, and some of the rural population remained in place. The center of gravity of settlement moved from the core to the periphery, and a new pattern was created: the core was depleted and the nearby periphery continued almost unchanged. The population of Benjamin and the highland of Judah contained most of the inhabitants of the kingdom in the twilight of its existence, and these inhabitants preserved the material culture that was known from the predestruction period.6

In this statement Lipschits concludes that there were some areas that underwent significant destruction – especially the urban area, while others – especially some rural ones in Judah and Benjamin – did not. With the urban centers decimated, little could remain in terms of administrative structures, though the biblical account of Mizpah does mitigate this conclusion for a time.7 The southern and eastern regions of Judah, including the Negev, Jordan valley and as far north perhaps as Hebron, were lost at the time of the Babylonian invasions. Edomites and Arabian groups pressed into the Negev, while the area south of Hebron and Mareshah were desolate.8 Jerusalem was also destroyed, and the Shephelah devastated. Only perhaps the Bethlehem area, the northern Judahite hills, and Benjamin remained relatively spared.9 Much of Lipschits’ argument in fact puts limits on the extents of arguments for continuity in Judah between the Iron Age and Persian period on the part of biblical scholars. Some archeologists, particularly A. Faust, however, dispute Lipschits’ conclusion that considerable continuity remained in place anywhere in Judah or Benjamin.10 He argues instead that the destruction was actually far more widespread. For one, he understands Benjamin to have undergone a shift 6

Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 190. Angelika Berlejung, “History and Religion of Ancient Israel,” in T&T Clark Handbook of the Old Testament: An Introduction to the Literature, Religion and History of the Old Testament, ed. J. C. Gertz (Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2012), 185. 8 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 182–83. 9 Ibid., 258. 10 Note also the critique with regard to the highlands of Juda in Daniel M. Master, “Comments on Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem,” JHebS 7 (2007): Article 2: 32: “Unlike the situation in Benjamin, where one might appeal to a series of excavations, there is not a single stratified sequence in the highlands of Judah that demonstrates Lipschits’’s claim of demographic continuity.” 7

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from rural to urban locales based on a number of archaeological surveys.11 This tendency would be the reverse of that suggested by Lipschits – until the society as a whole in Benjamin collapses. However, while differences exist with regard to their interpretations of the data in Benjamin, both see decline there as well, Faust simply places it a bit earlier, in the Babylonian period, while Lipschits places it in the Persian period.12 The difference between Faust and Lipschits is especially methodological: Faust places far more weight on salvage excavations and surveys.13 In the end, both can be seen as pushing against the scholarship that assumes too much continuity between preexilic and exilic/postexilic contexts. Faust posits a decline in population in Judah of up to 90%, Lipschits sets the number lower, but still 70%.14 Both also agree that no “investment” into the increase of agricultural production of Judah took place on the part of the Babylonian empire.15 Thus, if these archaeological perspectives are taken into account, Judah at the beginning of the Persian period consisted of a poor backwater. The question is just how devastated it was, and whether the Babylonians were at all interested in even the meager agricultural production indicated in the biblical texts.

4.2. The Transition to Persian Hegemony 4.2. The Transition to Persian Hegemony

Unlike the controversy surrounding the events of the Exile, however, it is undisputed that the transition from Babylonian to Persian rule took place with a high degree of continuity. This continuity can be demonstrated throughout the former Babylonian Empire. The maintenance of both tribute and gift-giving practices are demonstrated in the similar practices depicted in the Neo-Assyrian reliefs and inscriptions and on the Apadana reliefs. They display a similar 11 Avraham Faust, Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation, ABS 18 (Atlanta: SBL, 2012), 210–13. 12 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 245. 13 Faust, Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period, 70. 14 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 261; Avraham Faust, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations in Judah from the Late Iron Age to the Hellenistic Period and the Archaeology of Persian-Period Yehud,” in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods, ed. Yigʾal Levin, LSTS 65 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 49. 15 Oded Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 24; cf. Ephraim Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods: 732–332 BCE, vol. 2 of Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, AYBRL (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 308.

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approach to conquered peoples.16 The necessary tributes sent by the Babylonian temples to the Persian court also find a precedent in the Neo-Babylonian practice.17 The general logic of empires also supports this contention: how else would Cyrus, Cambyses, and Darius raise and maintain the martial force necessary for their wide-ranging conquests from the fall of Babylon in 538 BCE to the point when Darius purportedly carried out systematic reforms?18 Even when some novel institutions do appear, this may not be the case. For example, Stolper has investigated the Babylonian “bow-lands,” which were given to those serving as archers in the Persian army, and he notes that there is no evidence of this type of land grant under the Neo-Babylonian Empire.19 However, Jursa suggests that this development may have been more as the result of terminological simplification than anything else.20 Jursa’s summary of the tax and tribute system comes to a similar conclusion: “It is by now well established that all basic elements of this taxation system were in principle already in place in the reign of Nebuchadnezzar and that the fall of the NeoBabylonian empire to the Persians in 539/8 BC did not mark a major caesura in this respect.”21 Furthermore, in spite of some recent arguments to the contrary, there does appear to have been a wide spectrum of political methods through which the Persian Empire maintained its authority. This diversity in methods also reflect procedures taken over from earlier empires and in place in different locales. Frei argued several decades ago that various regions and principalities were afforded different degrees of independence.22 While his theory may prove too

16

Carlo Zaccagnini, “Prehistory of the Achaemenid Tributary System,” in Le tribut dans L’Empire perse: actes de la table ronde de Paris, 12-13 décembre 1986, ed. P. Briant and C. Herrenschmidt, Travaux de l’Institut d’etudes iraniennes de l’Université de la Sorbonne nouvelle 13 (Paris: Peeters, 1989), 194. 17 Ibid., 200. 18 His point is made by Amélie Kuhrt, The Persian Empire: A Corpus of Sources from the Achaemenid Period, 2 vols. (London: Routledge, 2007), 669. There are, however, significant problems with attributing the particular tax reforms Herodotus lists off to Darius, as I will discuss below. 19 Matthew W. Stolper, “On Interpreting Tributary Relationships in Achaemenid Babylonia,” in Le tribut dans L’Empire perse: actes de la table ronde de Paris, 12-13 décembre 1986, ed. P. Briant and C. Herrenschmidt, Travaux de l’Institut d’etudes iraniennes de l’Université de la Sorbonne nouvelle 13 (Paris: Peeters, 1989), 149. 20 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 652. 21 Ibid., 645. 22 Peter Frei and Klaus Koch, Reichsidee und Reichsorganisation im Perserreich, 2nd rev. and enlg. ed., OBO 55 (Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996); Peter Frei, “Persian Imperial Authorization: A Summary,” in Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch, ed. J. W. Watts, trans. J. W. Watts, SBL symposium series 17 (Atlanta: SBL, 2001), 5–40.

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laissez-faire, some liberty in terms of the organization of local religious, political, and economic affairs were allowed to continue, as long as they aligned with Persian imperial interests.23 An imperial strategy that followed regional political conceptions appears to fit best also for the eastern portion of the empire, which had relied on local Scythian monarchs submitting to the Median king before Cyrus’ conquest.24 Similarly, even the more rigid Neo-Assyrian Empire showed reluctance to take too much control of the Phoenician citystates, even when they became rebellious. This policy shows an interest on the part of ancient Near Eastern empires in general to allow certain “successful” models to function simultaneously if they prove profitable to the empire. These differences of political structures certainly need not entail that everything remaining the same under the Persians. If for no other reason, the historical events of this new era brought on responses that had not been part of the Neo-Assyrian or Neo-Babylonian approaches to their subjugated territories. The sheer size of the Persian Empire also brought about new impulses. Contact with India and increased interaction with Greece provided different influences and possibilities for political organization. Several political-historical remarks are in order before turning directly to discussion of the economics.25 As I have already mentioned, the rapid expansion of the Persian Empire during the reign of Cyrus did not and, perhaps more to the point, could not allow for any wide-reaching changes of the existing tax systems in the provinces of the former Neo-Babylonian Empire. Cyrus’ rise was precipitous: he led the Persians in throwing off Median hegemony in 553– 550 BCE, resulting in the conquest of the Median Empire. This Median Empire was based in Ecbatana and stretched to India. Before taking Babylon in 539 BCE, he had also subdued the Lydian empire based in Sardis and secured a number of eastern territories, perhaps as far as Gandhara (Kabul). With Babylon came, of course, all of Mesopotamia and the Levant. Then, after Cyrus’ death, Cambyses took Egypt in 525 BCE with the newly-gained help of the Phoenician navies. His death in 522 BCE threw the empire into internal chaos of fighting factions, subdued then by Darius (see the Behistun inscription, fragments of which are found throughout the empire). Though revolts took place periodically during Darius’ long reign (until 485 BCE), especially among the

23

Gary N. Knoppers, “An Achaemenid Imperial Authorization of Torah in Yehud?” in Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch, ed. James W. Watts, SBLSymS 17 (Atlanta: SBL, 2001), 129–31. 24 W. J. Vogelsang, The Rise and Organisation of the Achaemenid Empire: The Eastern Iranian Evidence, SHANE 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 304. 25 Unless otherwise noted, this section follows Pierre Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, trans. P. T. Daniels (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002). A brief introduction with relevant information to Judah appears in Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 2:353–72.

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Greek colonies in Asia Minor, there was essentially peace throughout the Levant and Mesopotamia. Xerxes, ruler for twenty years until 465 BCE, has received short shrift in the Greek sources. They paint him as the sensuous, irrational ruler that oversaw the beginning of the downward spiral of the Persian Empire beginning in 479 BCE with the defeats at the hands of the Greeks in Salamis, Plataea, and Mycale (Herodotus VII–IX). The beginning of Xerxes’ reign, however, focused on suppressing revolts in Egypt (484 BCE) and Babylonia (484 and 481 BCE).26 The problem with the Greek portrayal – beyond its clearly prejudiced perspective – lies in its lack of continuation beyond 479 BCE. There is no evidence of a decisive turn away from the policies of his predecessors (the contrary is evidenced in the continued use of royal Egyptian and Babylonian titles). The Persian Empire also had many more fronts to defend than what the Greeks viewed as important. What should be kept in mind, though, is that the Greek victories did lead to some increased Hellenistic influence in the form of the Athenian-centered Delian League, which brought together cities in the Eastern Mediterranean, and also the cities listed as paying tribute to Athens in the Athenian Tribute Lists from the middle of the fifth century, which some understand to include Dor from the southern Levantine coast.27 Yet there is too little support to claim that these events, such as the rise of the Athenian Empire and the troubles with Egypt, provided the impulse for the reconstruction of Jerusalem as a fortress either during this reign, or, as often concluded from Neh 2–7, in the reign of the subsequent Persian ruler, Artaxerxes I.28 The transition to the long reign of Artaxerxes I (465–424 BCE) brought with it, as usual, a number of revolts. This time the Egyptian unrest lasted for ten years, assisted by Athenian ships. Hostilities with Athens took place intermittently in the 450s. Though Hoglund is undoubtedly correct that the assertion of Greek (Athenian) influence in Asia Minor and perhaps even down to Dor represented the greatest threat – at least on the western front,29 which is what modern scholarship has some access to – for the Persian Empire, the evidence of deep and sustained Athenian penetration that would call for a sustained Persian response on the same level as the events that took place in the fourth century is missing.

26 A possible revolt in Yehud at the same time is dismissed by Briant, cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 525. 27 See discussion below, The “Philistine” Coast.” 28 Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” 35–38; contra Carter, The Emergence of Yehud, 44–45. 29 Kenneth G. Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration in Syria-Palestine and the Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah, SBLDS 125 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 81–93.

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Darius II prevailed over his brothers after the death of Artaxerxes I and ruled until 404 BCE. Protracted difficulties continued with Greek opponents, displaying Persian weakness in Asia Minor. There is relatively little data on the broader political events of Darius II’s reign outside of the Western theater, but major campaigns against the Medes and Cadusians (on the shore of the Caspian Sea) show that Darius’s focus may perhaps have lain elsewhere.30 Having provided this arc of political succession and political-military history from Cyrus to the end of the fifth century, how can the success and later fall of the empire be explained? One broad line of thinking draws a connection between the economic developments, especially coinage, and the fall of the Persian Empire in the fourth century BCE to Alexander. This reconstruction begins with the weakness of Xerxes, as depicted in the Greek texts, and follows their lead in seeing the Persian implosion resulting from the democratic and economic development of the Greek city states prior to Macedonian hegemony. Wiesehöfer has shown that the most plausible explanation is simply the military genius displayed by the Greek force.31 This argument brackets out the need for positing the internal decline due to Persian decadence or the rise in power of Persian women (both explanations are found in the ancient Greek sources). Similarly unconvincing are more modern theories of an inherent structural weakness arising from the empire’s grants of considerable local autonomy or economic theories of decline in the fourth century. In fact, the fourth century in Babylonia – where there is some evidence – indicates economic growth rather than regression. Nor does there appear to have been a dearth of silver in circulation, as has often been maintained, which then becomes a plank in the theory of Persian economic weakness. My point for including this short discussion here is to exclude that there was some notion of declining Persian control in the Levant significantly prior to the Greek invasion that supported the rise of local autonomy in opposition to the Persian authorities. As a result, I contend below that, for example, Yehud’s minting of coins need not signify the assertion of Yehudite independence from Persia (this view arises from a mistaken generalizing assumption for the dynamics involved in minting of coins). Instead of the ancient and modern theories of decline, Briant’s reconstruction for the fourth century appears more persuasive. All agree that the reign Artaxerxes II (ruler from 404–358 BCE) began tumultuously with the four-

30

Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 599, 740. Briant (ibid., 979), discounts the possibility of these issues leading to the neglect of matters in Asia Minor. Cf. Xenophon, Hell. I.2.19; II.1.13 for the source material. 31 Josef Wiesehöfer, “The Achaemenid Empire in the Fourth Century B.C.E.: A Period of Decline?” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E., ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and R. Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 11–30.

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year war of succession against his younger brother, Cyrus II.32 This internal discord likely allowed for another Egyptian uprising, confirmed by the date of TADAE B7.2 to the fifth year of Amyrtaeus in 400 BCE. Egypt appears quite independent of Persian control and in an equal alliance with Sparta until an army was raised in the 380s, during the reign of Hakoris (392–380). Actual battles took place between Spartan and Persian forces in Asia Minor, and later in Cyprus (where Evagoras had claimed authority over the entire island) and Egypt simultaneously. While Persia succeeded in re-establishing dominion in Cyprus, Isocrates (Paneg. 140) alone reports a successful Egyptian defense. Thus, the longer-term results of these maneuvers were the re-establishment of Persian domination in Cyprus and Asia Minor – quite significant achievements. Briant is at pains here to show that there is no evidence for a wide-ranging and well-coordinated rebellion of multiple regions during these decades. He dismisses Diodorus’ contention that the whole Levant seceded at this time,33 contending instead … nothing allows us to state with certainty that the disturbance embraced all of Syria-Palestine or all of Phoenicia. Mounting an expedition to Egypt around 385–384 presupposes, on the contrary, that the Persians were able to requisition ships in Phoenicia and that they controlled traditional logistical bases (Sidon, Acre, Gaza).34

Some evidence in the form of a stamp impression and broken tablet of Nectanebo/Nepharites I at Gezer may, however, indicate that the Egyptians did push north into the Shephelah.35 Yet the lack of any other evidence of invasion may suggest another reason for the presence of these artifacts at Gezer. The following decade witnesses a major Persian invasion of Egypt, which came after lengthy preparations by the Persian general Pharnabazus centered in Acre. These preparations would certainly have impacted the economic production and perhaps even the economic and political structure of the region.36 Then the decisive battles took place in 373 BCE, ultimately resulting in a Persian retreat to their basis in the southern Levant and a stalemate.37 32

As Briant attempts to show at length, over-reliance on Greek sources – which are far greater in number – leads to a one-sided and problematic depiction of the Persian authority during this almost half-century reign. 33 15.2.3–4. The main actors are Orontes in Syria and Datames, who leads an army west across the Euphrates. Similar contentions about the fourth century in general are found in Demosthenes Symm. 31–32 and Rhod. lib. §§9–10. 34 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 651. 35 Ephraim Stern, “The Persian Empire and the Political and Social History of Palestine in the Persian Period,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism, ed. W. D. Davies and L. Finkelstein (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 1:75. 36 Evidence might be found in Pharnabazos’ “Samarian” coin, which Dušek connects with his military preparations: Jan Dušek, Les manuscrits araméens du Wadi Daliyeh et la Samarie vers 450–332 av. J.-C, CHANE 30 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 534–35. 37 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 655.

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During the final years of Artaxerxes II’s reign, the Egyptian pharaoh Tachos spearheaded an attempt to throw off Persian domination, leading an army up into the Levant and landing a naval force in Phoenicia. As Diodorus (XV.90.2) and Xenophon (Ages. 2.28) report, however, internal discord back in Egypt led to Tachos abdicating the throne and fleeing to the Persian court in the wake of Nectanebo’s claim to the throne. Yet in spite of this literary evidence, no destruction layers appear in the archaeology of the Negev, i.e., Beer Sheba and Arad, that would support such an invasion farther inland.38 This long term struggle with Egypt would result in a profound change of at least the southern Levantine coastland, the Shephelah, and the trade route across the Negev in the direction of Arabia, and it may have significant implications for the highlands of Yehud as well.39 It was Artaxerxes III (Ochus), reigning from 351–338 BCE, who turned his focus to the Levant and Egypt. After experiencing defeat during his first attempt to re-conquer Egypt, according to Diodorus (XVI.41), the conflict began a second time (343 BCE) with the Sidonian rebellion of Tennes, in which the Phoenicians destroyed the Persian paradise near their city along with fodder stored up for the Persian military. Cyprus is also implicated in the rebellion, and some time is taken to quash these revolts. Yehud and Samaria are also said to have rebelled, with the consequences of the destruction of Jericho and Judeans being exiled to Hyrcania. Given the lack of early sources or any substantiating archaeological evidence, Briant discounts Samarian or Judean participation.40 Some streams of scholarship, however, have posited broad political and economic importance in the fourth century for the Tennes Rebellion for the southern Levant, such as possible changes in the development of different coins.41 Given the close relationship in images on the coins to the Phoenician cities Sidon and Tyre, some fallout or connection would be expected. This need not imply Samarian participation in the revolt, however. The evidence from the supposed “Samarian coinage” is also less clear than often surmised: recent investigation has argued that the coins previously categorized as “Samarian” may not in fact have been so.42 38

Stern, “The Persian Empire and the Political and Social History of Palestine,” 1:77. On the archaeological record, i.e., of Lachish and other fortifications in the fourth century, see below. 40 From Cyrus to Alexander, 685. 41 Yaʿaqov Mešorer and Shraga Qedar, Samarian Coinage (Jerusalem: Israel Numismatic Society, 1999), 11. 42 Jan Dušek, “Again on Samarian Governors and Coins in the Persian Period: A Rejoinder to Edward Lipiński and Michał Marciak,” in Die Samaritaner und die Bibel: historische und literarische Wechselwirkungen zwischen biblischen und samaritanischen Traditionen: Historical and Literary Interactions between Biblical and Samaritan Traditions = The Samaritans and the Bible, ed. J. Frey, U. Schattner-Rieser, and K. Schmid, SJ 70 / Studia Samaritana 7 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 119–55. 39

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As a result of this overview, several periods can be taken as decisive for the economic developments of Yehud. While not discussed here, the building of the Temple during the time of Darius was no doubt important. Much emphasis in past scholarship has focused on the mid-fifth century, given that this is the literary setting for Ezra-Nehemiah. This period is difficult to locate on the archaeological chronology and events of Persian imperial history, which mutes the importance of this data for the biblical texts. Generally speaking, most of the significant historical and archaeological developments with regard to economics for the Judean highlands took place subsequent to the ongoing battles for Egypt throughout the fourth century. It thus requires painting a broad picture of the economics of the larger period as a whole in order to construct a view of the economics in Yehud. The next extensive section attempts to provide this background.

4.3. Persian Imperial Economy 4.3. Persian Imperial Economy

Given this quick overview of the political history of the Persian Empire, especially as it relates to the southern Levant, this section turns to economic factors. The fact remains that the makeup of the Persian imperial economy is generally opaque.43 Discussion of economic policies and changes in the Persian Empire usually focuses on the central role accorded to Darius I by Herodotus, especially 3.89: 44 [Darius] established twenty provinces, which the Persians themselves call satrapies; and having established the provinces and set over them rulers, he appointed tribute to come to him … He divided the provinces and the yearly payment of tribute … For in the reign of Cyrus, and again of Cambyses, nothing was fixed about tribute, but they used to bring gifts: and on account of this appointing of tribute and other things like this, the Persians say that Dareios was a shopkeeper, Cambyses a master, and Cyrus a father; the one because he dealt with all his affairs like a shopkeeper, the second because he was harsh and had little regard for any one, and the other because he was gentle and contrived for them all things good.45

However, whatever the nature of Darius’ historical actions, this does not imply a lack of interest in financial matters on the part of earlier rulers. Briant argues, “Actually, as we have seen, Cyrus, Cambyses, and Bardiya had also been careful not to neglect fiscal administration. Assessments on subject peoples did not 43 A helpful overview from which to begin appears in Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 377–471, 800–11; cf. the earlier work of Muhammad A. Dandamaev and Vladimir G. Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, trans. P. L. Kohl and D. J. Dadson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989) which tends to follow Herodotus too uncritically. 44 Cf. Hist. 3. 97–98. 45 The Histories of Herodotus, (trans. G. C. Macaulay; London: MacMillan, 1890). Cited March 25, 2014: Online: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2707/2707-h/2707-h.htm.

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begin with Darius. It is nonetheless true that every ancient text attributes to Darius a determining role in the establishment of tribute.”46 This does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that Herodotus accurately attributes the tax and tribute scheme in his Histories to Darius I. Kuhrt argues that the system reflects a situation from later in the Achaemenid hegemony.47 Furthermore, the period of Darius I should not dominate the focus on Persian period economics for biblical studies, given that quite significant events and text complexes arise much later than Darius I’s reign. That said, some scholars of the Persian Empire generally maintain the stability of “Darius’” tax regime into the Hellenistic period.48 This forms a major assumption – not without some support – in current approaches to the Persian economy. Given this general stability in the imperial Persian tax regime, my task will be to understand what developments if any took place, for example, with the emergence of Yehud as a province in the fifth century or the loss of control over Egypt for the first half of the fourth century. Now, from a broad perspective, what can be said of the Persian tax regime? For those viewing Darius’ reform as the decisive organization of tax policy for the subsequent two centuries, an important plank of this position is the necessary payment of taxes in silver, though on the basis of cultivated land in the satrapy.49 Such a development, according to this line of thinking meant that regions without silver mines were pushed onto the commercial market to acquire silver.50 This conclusion will prove important later in the discussion of Neh 5. Jursa expresses a fair amount of skepticism regarding Darius’ “reforms,” rejecting Herodotus’ contention that the specific change at this time was a 46

Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 388. Kuhrt, The Persian Empire, 669; also Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” 26 n. 22; Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 392, maintains Herodotus’ basic trustworthiness. Note the near wholesale rejection of Herodotus’ assessment in Michael Jursa, “Taxation and Service Obligations in Babylonia from Nebuchadnezzar to Darius and the Evidence for Darius’ Tax Reform,” in Herodot und das persische Weltreich – Herodotus and the Persian Empire, ed. R. Rollinger, B. Truschnegg, and R. Bichler, CLEO: Classica et Orientalia 3 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2011), 443–44. 48 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 389; Raymond Descat, “Mnésimachos, Hérodote et le système tributaire achéménide,” REA 87 (1985): 97–112. Muhammad A. Dandamaev, “Politische und wirtschaftliche Geschichte,” in Beiträge zur Achämenidengeschichte, ed. G. Walser, Historia Einzelschriften 18 (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1972), 19; also Raymond Descat, “Notes sur la politique tributaire de Darius Ier.,” in Le tribut dans l’Empire perse: Actes de la table ronde de Paris, 12-13 décembre 1986, ed. P. Briant and C. Herrenschmidt (Paris: Peeters, 1989), 77. 49 Dandamaev and Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, 178. 50 Ibid., 188; cf. Kippenberg, Religion und Klassenbildung im antiken Judäa, 55, for this position in regard to Neh 5. 47

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move from tax payments in kind to payments in silver. He provides readings of Neo-Babylonian and early Persian period Akkadian texts from Babylonia that indicate the wide use of silver for the payment of taxes at those earlier periods. Jursa does, however, see a different development around the time of Darius that he, if perhaps somewhat hesitantly, equates with a tax reform under Darius: … according to the unequivocal evidence from the Babylonian record, the period of Darius was not distinguished from earlier decades by a notable preference for the extraction of taxes in cash. Rather, one notices a marked extension of labour obligations, especially by the introduction of obligatory service outside Babylonian (sic!) proper, particularly in Elam. Otherwise the system did not change.51

Thus, the system did not change dramatically. Yet one new element developed: provision of labor by Babylonian residents outside Babylonia. Earlier such requirements – for Babylonians – appear limited to the Neo-Babylonian heartland. Regardless of the differences, all interpreters accept the ongoing extraction of taxes in kind, as found both in Herodotus’ account and elsewhere. According to Herodotus, some additional in kind assessments varied according to the specialties of each region. Finally, how much and how was one required to pay? Dandamaev and Lukonin reckon with about a tenth, similar to Zaccagnini, who notes that this is much in line with traditional levies from earlier empires.52 Descat, based primarily on Herodotus, distinguishes between the two categories of the phoros and the tagē.53 The first of these is the general tribute; he imagines local rulers as the responsible agents for turning these collections of goods in kind into metal. In setting up this system, Descat must imagine Darius as a ruler whose system is very thorough in terms of considering what kind of yields different regions could produce while being lenient in terms of the percentage of the crop one needed to deliver. Support for leniency comes from the 350 talents of silver required for “Across the River,” which, given the inclusion of Phoenician cities – trading powerhouses – is a rather light burden. The depiction of this leniency in narrative appears in Plutarch (Mor. 172–73) and Polyaenus (VII.11.3), who report Darius reducing the taxes of his subjects by half. Descat’s illumination of the tagē (Herodotus 1.192) proves more creative. He relates this rare term to the royal table, even referring to Jer 52:34 (‫)אחרה‬,

51

Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 653. Zaccagnini, “Prehistory of the Achaemenid Tributary System,” 202. 53 The basic term in OP for the assessments is baziš, which some relate directly to Akkadian mandattu and Greek phoros (found in Herodotus). Briant (Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 404), however, equates baziš with dasmos, though they are often conflated. 52

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as a category for the provisions for the royal table and the military.54 A further important part of his view is that the phoros, now freed from needing to provide for the maintenance of the royal house and military, was completely free for the king to disperse according to his whim. Briant, however, understands this category not as provisions for the royal table, but rather as the yields from “crown lands,” where for this reason were directly under the king’s command.55 In answer to the question “how much?” Descat has attempted to identify the actual percentage extracted by the Empire, based primarily on the third century BCE Mnesimachus inscription from the inside of the cella of the Artemis temple in Sardis, which claims to have originated shortly after Macedonian conquest at the end of the fourth century.56 In it Mnesimachus has mortgaged various landholdings to the temple, and the conditions of repayment are described according to the Persian land tenure system. This system assessed taxes at the rate of 1/12th of the value of the land annually. Briant takes a more conservative view, noting Descat’s conclusion merely as a suggestion, and contending that such assessment would actually require extensive investigation on the part of the tax assessors.57 Was such an endeavor really feasible in the giant Persian Empire, especially with sparsely populated regions like Yehud? In addition to the taxes of tribute and provisions for the royal table, numerous other levies are known that complicate the picture considerably. First there are “freely given” gifts presented to the king, well documented in classical sources. Another category is found in the requirements from Babylonia to supply a fully-equipped soldier when called upon. These came from the military ḫaṭrus and the outlays, when required, were great.58 Customs taxes also appear, documented in the Egyptian Aramaic register from circa 475 BCE. Some kind of sales tax may have been relatively widespread: a tax on slave sales from Artaxerxes (II or III) and continuing on into the Seleucid era suggests to Briant a longstanding practice.59 54

The provisions for the military are found in Herodotus with regard to extra requirements for Egypt and Babylonia (cf. Dandamaev and Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, 181). Note the recent investigation of the philological background of this word, concluding that it means “heaps” by Ronnie Goldstein, “NB Administrative Terminology and Its Influence in Biblical Literature: Hebrew ‫ארח‬,” in Literature as Politics, Politics as Literature: Essays on the Ancient Near East in Honor of Peter Machinist, ed. D. S. Vanderhooft and A. Winitzer (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013), 137–49. 55 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 420. 56 Descat, “Mnésimachos, Hérodote et le système tributaire achéménide”; Elspeth R. M. Dusinberre, Aspects of Empire in Achaemenid Sardis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 123–26. 57 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 394. 58 Ibid., 405, gives an example. 59 Ibid., 400.

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It should also be remembered that economic goods flowed not only towards the center. The king redistributed wealth through payments to workers and as special gifts or rewards, especially to the valiant in battle.60 Significant for understanding the functioning of the economy and this project as a whole is that this portion of the economic functioned both non-monetarily (the gifts were not of money, or even of various amounts of precious metals) and also somewhat unique: bracelets, necklaces, garments, and even cities carry a value determined outside their economic worth. These items reveal a value system that functioned parallel to, and sometimes overlapping with, a commoditized monetary system. A clear example of the overlap – which also shows the overlap between Persian Empire and Greek city-state can be in Lysias’ speech (ca. 387 BCE) on the property of Aristophanes (19.25) Demus, the son of Pyrilampes, who equipped a trireme for Cyprus, asked me to approach him (sc. Aristophanes). He said he had received a mark (sc. of royal favour) from the great king, namely a gold phiale, which he would give to Aristophanes for sixteen minas, and thus he would have the funds to equip the trireme. When he reached Cyprus, he would redeem it for the sum of twenty minas because, on the strength of this mark (of royal favour), he would be well provided with goods and other money all over the continent.61

This vignette reveals how the system of gifts and honor overlaps with the burgeoning monetized market thinking: Demus is attempting to play the two systems against each other in order to turn a monetary profit. Demus proposes a monetary value of sixteen minas (a measure of weight) for the gold phiale, not on the basis of the bowl’s weight or time taken for its manufacture, but instead on the basis of the fact that the bowl was a gift from the Persian emperor, which therefore represented favor (i.e., redistributive potential). While such thinking may seem rather commonplace, the transferability of honor-gifts into money was only beginning at this point. The Persepolis Fortification Tablets and the Treasury Tablets contain extensive records of payments in both silver and in other rations to workers. The payments in silver are done according to weight (karsh) and could be quite significant. The recipients include storekeepers, perhaps cattle-herders,62 and high officials (i.e., Parnaka). Dandamaev notes that there is a development from solely payment in kind in the earlier Fortification Tablets (509–494) to the mixture of payment in kind and in weighed silver in the Treasury Tablets 60 Herodotus, Hist., 8.90.4; Xeonophon, Cyropaedia 8.2.7–8; 8, 3.23. Aelian’s Varia Historia 1.22 (circa 200 C.E.) combines both amounts of coined silver (επισεµου αργυρου: “of marked silver”) – though determined by its weight! – and gifts of honor such as swords and bracelets. PTT 4 might possibly record just a reward according to George G. Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, OIP 65 (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1948), 90. 61 Translation from Kuhrt, The Persian Empire, 2:641. 62 So for kamkatiyap in PTT 5, Richard T. Hallock, “A New Look at the Persepolis Treasury Tablets,” JNES 19 (1960): 97.

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(492–458). He emphasizes, however, “But not even the highest state official was ever paid with money, although the invention of Persian coinage by Darius the Great dates from the last decade of the sixth century, if not earlier.”63 Gifts of prized estates throughout the empire came to honored officials and servants, as recorded for a doctor who cured Darius, generals, and wise counselors.64 Significantly, as remarked by Kuhrt, the value of these gifts – seen in their yearly agricultural output (“bread” or “wine”) – could be translated into the profit in terms of the amount of silver (fifty talents per annum) that could be extracted. However, it may be significant to note that this is found in a Greek source (Thucydides), which means that it was not necessarily an emic, Persian perspective. Finally, it is important to clear up a widely-held misconception. On the basis of Greek sources (i.e., Diod. 17), it is posited that … the money that had come in as state taxes over the course of many decades had been set aside in the royal treasuries; it was withdrawn from circulation and only a small portion was expended for the maintenance of the court and administration. This meant that there was a shortage of minted coins and even previous metals in ingots for trade, which severely hampered the development of commodity-money relations, forcing the retention of an economy with payment in kind or compelling recourse to the direct exchange of goods. As documents from Babylonia testify, barter frequently took place in this country under the Achaemenids owing to the shortage of silver (for example, dates or barley were exchanged for sheep and cattle, slaves, wool, clothing, gold, wine and beer).65

This position attributes a basic economic ignorance to the Persian system, which took money out of the system. Such a move, had it taken place, would invariably lead to a deflationary situation and hamper trade significantly. However, as on display below, prices in Babylonia (where the most extensive prices data is available) rose during the period, likely implying a rise in the amount of silver available. Briant locates the origins of this error with Olmstead’s History of the Persian Empire (1948), though, as Briant notes, Droysen had also argued in this direction.66 With this broad overview of the historical development and economic functioning of the Persian Empire, the following sections discuss specific geographic regions and periods from the Persian world that draw increasingly closer to Yehud. The following short discussion will simply provide brief discussion – building on his description – including reflection on the important primary sources. These primary sources stem from areas considerably distant from Yehud: the 63

Muhammad A. Dandamaev, “Persepolis Elamite Tablets,” Encyclopedia Iranica http://www.cais-soas.com /CAIS/ Archaeology/ Hakhamaneshian/persepolis_elamite_tablets.htm. 64 Herodotus, Hist. 3.132; Diodorus Siculus 16.52.3–4; Thucydides 1.138. 1–6. 65 Dandamaev and Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, 205–6. 66 From Cyrus to Alexander, 800–1.

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Persepolis Treasury and Fortification Tablets, archives such as those of the Egibi and Murašû families and Temple archives from Babylonia, Greek sources (especially Herodotus and Xenophon), the Wadi Daliyeh and Idumean inscriptions, and the Elephantine Papyri from Egypt. If anything, the imperial economy was a complex system, made up of various features such as a temple households, royal households, commercialized urban settings, maritime merchant cities like Phoenicia, and the more agriculturally-oriented lands elsewhere. 4.3.1 The Rise of Coinage: Historical and Methodological Reflections Before embarking on a geographic journey of the Persian economies, I find it important to delve into one issue that has occupied scholars since antiquity and is usually accorded pride of place in reflections on economic developments: the rise and importance of coinage. In order to detail the rise of coinage, it will be helpful to consider first theoretically just what coins are, or can be. Balmuth, following Aristotle (Politics, 1.257a), outlines a progression from bartering, through the use of an agreed upon commodity (which she designates “currency”), to a further development of “coinage.” She refines her understanding by quoting Seltmann’s classic study: “Metal when used to facilitate the exchange of goods is currency; currency when used according to specific weight standards is money; money stamped with a device is coin.”67 By this definition – and the definitions are key in this discussion – currency, both metal and otherwise, was used at least since the third millennium in the ancient Near East.68 Linguistic reflections of this phenomenon appear in the etymology of the Semitic and often the Greek terms for coins: they generally arise from terms meaning “count” or “cut,” or else related to various measures of weight.69

67 Charles T. Seltmann, Greek Coins: A History of Metallic Currency and Coinage down to the Fall of the Hellenistic Kingdoms, 2nd ed. (London: Methuen, 1955), 1; Miriam S. Balmuth, “The Critical Moment: The Transition from Currency to Coinage in the Eastern Mediterranean,” Archaeology 6,3 (1975): 293. 68 Cf. Snell, Ledgers and Prices, 238; Marvin A. Powell, “Money in Mesopotamia,” JESHO 39 (1996): 227. 69 Balmuth, “The Critical Moment,” 295. She reasons: “The words used for the amount of currency are derived from roots which mean ‘to count’ or ‘to weigh’ or ‘to cut off’. Akkadian manu, Hebrew maneh, Greek mna all derive from Sumerian MA-NA ‘to count’ and are all intermediary between the smaller unit of shekel or statēr and the largest unit, Babylonian biltu, Hebrew kikkar and Greek talanton. The root sql expresses the action of weighing in all Semitic languages (Barrois 1953: 252) and like the English word ‘pound’, came eventually to mean the sum of money originally represented by that weight. Greek statēr and talanton are equally significant of terms which referred first to weights and then to money whose value originated with these weights.”

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It is important to consider the point at which bullion “currency” becomes “coinage.” Is, as Balmuth claims, the key moment simply when an authority begins putting some sort of stamp on the metal? And, as the definition from Seltmann suggests, should bullion currency be considered “money”? I propose that Balmuth’s approach in fact muddies the waters, rather than making them clearer. Ancient evidence might suggest a different perspective. Since it appears that the weight of the metal remained important for a period of time after metal as such became stamped coinage, then there are further important factors. It may be that bullion coins first become money when their value is linked primarily to their symbolic or token value – agreed upon somehow by an accepted authority. At this point the value of the coins has lost its direct connection to its weight (which could be seen as its “use value”) as the source of value, setting them apart from the bullion currency before them. It is now simply “recognized” to have a certain value without needing to be weighed or testing by cutting to see if it is indeed worth what its size and stamp purport it to be.70 Seaford argues: What distinguishes a coin from a marked, standardized piece of metal that is not a coin? A mark on a coin, whether or not it is supposed to guarantee weight and quality, endows it with a general acceptability in payment without being weighed or tested.71

Seaford’s insights suggest a significant alteration to Balmuth’s perspective. “General acceptability,” he argues, is a key factor that accords “marked metal” the status of “coin.” Does the evidence support Seaford’s argument? Perhaps it depends on the point of view. I will argue that his progression is in fact relativized by developments in different cultural contexts of the Persian period. The situations in Greek and Babylonia were not the same. In order to make my case, I turn first to the archaeological evidence. Balmuth notes several discs of silver and electron stamped with a seal of authority (i.e., the ruler Barrakib in eighth-century Zincirli).72 She argues that the ruler’s seal means to secure the quality and amount of the metal in the coin, providing a guarantee for use as currency. Yet while this possible interpretation may attempt to serve as a guarantee for the value of the metal, it does not come near the conceptual step taken in the move from bullion “marked metal” to “coinage.” According to her analysis, it is still the weight and quality that are

70 Seaford, Money and the Early Greek Mind, 319, summarizes as follows, “It is important to distinguish between (a) metal pieces of standardised weight (and/or quality) that may have been used in payments, (b) marked metal pieces, that may also be of standard weight and/or quality, and may have been used in payments, and (c) coins. Coins are marked metal pieces of standardised weight and quality, but such pieces are not necessarily coins.” 71 Ibid., 320–21. 72 Balmuth, “The Critical Moment,” 296–97.

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decisive. The support for this is the limited disbursement and therefore knowledge of these pieces of metal. Then, as is widely documented, the first coins are – in literary sources – purported to have arisen in seventh-century Lydia, made of a gold and silver alloy called electron.73 The earliest clearly identifiable coins recovered by archaeology stem from the sixth century, generally in the form of silver coins from Greek city states,74 though the oldest are electrum from Ephesus, likely from around 560 BCE.75 It is, of course, intriguing to ask why this development took place, and many theories have arisen, though none completely convincing.76 While difficult to pin down, as Hölscher suggests, “Since the first currencies, even in their smallest units, consist of relatively high values, coins must have served to recompense some precious commodity or long-term service. Because of their occasional application, coins seem to have not been issued with any continuous regularity but in response to specific needs.”77 He sees the specific need in paying local labor for the construction of public works, but payment to soldiers is a viable possibility.78 Regardless of the first use of coins, what becomes important is the rapid spread of their use. From the mid-sixth (or in the last quarter of the sixth) century when hoards of coins began appearing, the development was rapid. As Howgego notes, the Greek world (including mainland Greece, Italy, Sicily, and the Hellenized areas of the Persian Empire) had established coinages by 500 BCE.79 Greeks no longer appeared to feel the need to weigh the coins, and instead were satisfied with counting them.80 A further striking development of the sixth–fourth centuries is that the use of coins – largely Athenian coins – spread well beyond the boundaries of Athenian political control. This fact shows that something other 73

See, i.e., Alkaios, frag. 69; Xenophanes, frag. 4, Herodotus, Hist. 1.94. For discussion, see Ulrich Hübner, “The Development of Monetary Systems in Palestine during the Achaemenid and Hellenistic Era,” in Money as God? The Monetization of the Market and the Impact on Religion, Politics, Law and Ethics, ed. J. von Hagen and M. Welker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 159–83. 74 Ibid. 75 David M. Schaps, The Invention of Coinage and the Monetization of Ancient Greece (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2003), 93–96. 76 See the various options recounted in ibid., 97–100. 77 Hölscher, “Money and Image,” 119. 78 Cf. Christopher Howgego, Ancient History from Coins (London: Routledge, 1995), 3. 79 Ibid., 6. Yehud only develops coinage later, in the fourth century BCE, as I will discuss below. 80 Seaford, Money and the Early Greek Mind, 321. See also ibid., 6: “It was a crucial and unprecedented step towards modern money. And it was a factor, I will argue, in a crucial and unprecedented conceptual transformation, by which the Greeks seem closer to us than are any of the sophisticated civilisations that preceded them. Worthy of investigation therefore is what it was that enabled the Greeks to make widespread use of monetary value marked by a sign on a substance.”

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than a king’s or state’s (demos in the case of Athens) guarantee proved decisive in the widespread acceptance of coinage. And this rapid proliferation, according to Seaford (and Schaps), marks a decisive development, one which they claim shows that there was a conceptual progression to accepting coinage as token money. As the reader may have already noted, the discussion to this point has focused decidedly on the Greek context. Jursa counters with something of a counter-narrative, based instead on Mesopotamia. He instead defines “money” differently, asserting, “Within Assyriology, there is a near-consensus that it is legitimate to speak of silver as ‘money’ for most periods of Mesopotamian history.”81 He directly rejects the distinction between “marked metal” and “coinage” introduced above, which follows Seaford and arises primarily from consideration of the Greek context. The basis for Jursa’s argument arises from a quite exhaustive treatment of the pervasiveness of silver as a means of exchange in the “long-sixth-century” in Babylonia, including a discussion of the various terms used to modify that silver.82 Yet Jursa does not overcome the conceptual different identified above: there is a difference between weighed and counted silver. He does, however, show persuasively that silver in Babylonia by the time of the Neo-Babylonian Empire was no longer reserved for high value transactions – and same can be argued for seventh-century BCE Ashkelon.83 So while not money in the sense of token coinage, silver was widely incorporated into everyday exchange, especially in urban settings. This conclusion shows, in effect, that the step from weighted silver to counted coins need not really be as universally significant as Seaford argues, and that the shift is more significant in Greece than in Babylonia or the Levantine port context of Ashkelon. Instead, the important move in Babylonia was from the use of rations provided, i.e., by a temple, to the provision of whatever staple that is used as a means of exchange (barley, dates, bullion, or coinage) for small, mundane transactions. This development, obtained in the sixth century BCE in Babylonia, constitutes the decisive leap in Jursa’s analysis because it exemplifies commercializing rather than a redistributive apportionment of goods. Jursa does mention Seaford’s approach, but he never directly answers Seaford’s notion of a re-conceptualization of exchange through the move from luxury items to commodification of goods and services with coins. Jursa focuses generally on sixth-century Babylonia, where coinage played a minimal role. In this sense, Seaford addresses a different situation, one in which coinage 81

Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 470. Given that Jursa’s argument focuses heavily on the Neo-Babylonian and Persian periods, whether it is applicable to much earlier periods remains an open question. 82 Ibid., 475–90. 83 Master and Stager, “Buy Low Sell High,” 41.

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had pervaded the world of trade and exchange, a role taken by weighed silver in Jursa’s documents. It might be amenable to locate the difference in sea-based trade economies (Greece) versus land agriculture based ones (Babylonia), but not completely because Ashkelon still presents a problem for Seaford’s position. My discussion of the Elephantine data below shows how silver was used as a medium for identifying value for non-metal items belonging to dowries throughout the fifth century. Furthermore, silver changed hands in payment for real estate. While Elephantine was certainly separated from Yehud by a considerable distance, the distance of both from Babylonia, Greece, and other centers of trade points to the wide distribution of both transactions in silver and accounting in silver throughout the Aramaic-speaking Western Persian territories. Finally, the Elephantine data points to payments by the Persian authorities to soldiers on a regular basis – regular enough for one to use it as a promised means for paying off a short term loan. And this development, through which silver bullion or token coinage comes to represent the value of other items is precisely what I see as the important moment. I would thus agree in principle with Howgego, who articulates the intellectual accomplishment of coinage in this way: The use of coinage presumably led to the transfer of values (and ideas) between such spheres as dowry, fine, gift, payments by and to the state, and commercial exchange. Indeed, it is important to ask why a single means of exchange came to be used in all these spheres. The use of coin by the state to make payments is presumably part of the answer, but to be effective payments must be useful to the recipient.84

I would, however, modify his conclusion to include either coinage or weighed bullion. Nonetheless, what he correctly highlights is the broad acceptance of a particular (or several particular) means of payment that bring about the levelling of value. Equivalencies can now be made between spheres that would have been difficult beforehand. While such equivalencies are never completely accepted – symbolic values always remain intact to some degree – these changes are significant.85 These changes also effected Yehud in the fifth–fourth (or third) centuries, the periods when Ezra, Nehemiah, and Qoheleth took shape. Coinage came to play an important role in the Levant as this early Second Temple Period developed. Yet, if Jursa’s portrayal also holds true on this point for Yehud, then it may not be as important whether coinage or weighed silver fulfill the role of

84

Howgego, Ancient History from Coins, 14–15. Max Weber, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft: Grundriss der verstehenden Soziologie, 5th rev. ed. (Tübingen: Mohr, 1972), 40. He dedicates a whole section to identifying the nature of money, identifying various features – especially the symbolic value and use in exchange as key. 85

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chosen material for exchange. Both might play the role of accentuating exchange value at the expense of use (or symbolic) value on the one hand, and of marking the growth of exchange on the other. Either case could indicate the concrete background for economic thinking in Yehud. While my discussion has relativized the necessity of coinage itself, the evidence of coinage from the particular historical contexts – because of its concrete nature – can ground this theoretical discussion in the historical developments of the era. The following section will investigate the coinage itself as a phenomenon of the development of economic changes as an entrance into these regional economies as a whole. 4.3.2. The Coinage of the Greater Persian Economy One of the great economic changes associated with the Persian period is the development of coinage. While actual proliferation of coinage begins with the Greeks (as discussed above), this generally took place in contact with the Persian-dominated Asia Minor.86 The kingdom of Lydia, soon after to be conquered by Persia, is given credit for the development of coinage under the rule of King Croesus (ca. 561–47 BCE), whose “croeseids” were made of electrum (a combination of gold and silver).87 It therefore follows logically that the Persian coinage emerges from their Lydian subordinates. The imperial Persian coin issues came in two types, the gold darics and the silver sigloi/sikloi. These monetary issues can be seen as a more or less direct development from the Lydian “croeseid” series, stamped with a lion-and-bull image.88 In fact, it may be the case that this series of coins appeared only after Lydia became part of the Persian Empire.89 The oldest evidence of the darics comes from Herodotus (7, 38), and the term came to mean “Persian coin” for the Greeks in the fifth century.90 While

86 Howgego, Ancient History from Coins, 2. While the decision to discuss imperial Persian coinage separate from the coinage issued by Greece and Persian provinces introduces a certain level of artificiality, my intention is to move from a general overview of the Persian empire to discussions of more specific contexts. 87 Ian Carradice, “The ‘Regal’ Coinage of the Persian Empire,” in Coinage and Administration in the Athenian and Persian Empires: The Ninth Oxford Symposium on Coinage and Monetary History, ed. I. Carradice, BAR International Series 343 (Oxford: BAR Archaeological Reports, 1987), 73. Cf. Herodotus, 1.85–89. See above for further references. 88 Ibid., 75. These gold coins are linked with the Lydian king Croesus (ca. 561–47). 89 David Stronach, “Early Achaemenid Coinage: Perspectives from the Homeland,” Iranica Antiqua 24 (1989): 256. 90 In this story, King Xerxes meets the wealthy Lydian, Pythius, who claimed to possess nearly four million στατήρων ∆αρεικών (χρθσίου).

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it is by many taken to be a derivative of “Darius,” the first mention in inscriptions comes from around 430.91 While not all scholars are in agreement about the etymology of “daric,” their placement in his reign is accepted, even though no such coins have been found that date to his reign. Dandamaev and Lukonin note, “The terminus ante quem for the minting of Persian coins is provided by a buried treasure of the Athos canal, which was built by Xerxes in 480 B.C. during his Greek campaign.”92 As the only gold issues of the era, the darics were able to symbolize Persian authority in a special way, and they appeared to have been used beyond the boundaries of the Persian Empire. After the “croeseid” series, Persian coins, that is, both darics and sigloi, displayed distinctive Persian imagery, the so-called “royal archer.” The image undergoes some development in the fifth-fourth century, but nonetheless remains distinctive. Stronach perceives a possible attempt by Darius I with the issue of these “royal archer” coins to broadcast his royal authority on the empire after the upheaval experienced in the period before his rise to power. Yet he himself tempers this argument: As the overall chronology of the “archer” coinage clearly demonstrates, individual coin types were not intended to be associated with particular monarchs. … That is to say that, in keeping with a larger prescription in Achaemenid art, the portrayal of the king in this long-lived coinage was given a dynastic, not a personal character.93

This dynastic character bound up in the “royal archer” iconography, Stronach goes on to suggest, portrays the Persian rulers as ever-ready to defend truth and order.94 Yet this same dynastic character contrasts sharply with the Ptolemaic coins that follow, for example, that name specific personages. The more common silver issues, the sigloi (σιγλοι/σικλοι; from Semitic šql) appear to have been in circulation far before their mentions in Greek texts at the end of the fifth century.95 Many of the sigloi known today are much more worn than the other coins found with them. This fact suggests that they were well used. This phenomenon likely arose from the fact that the Persian Empire, in contrast to many Greek city states, was quite stable. This stability and similarity in form otherwise takes place only with the Athenian head of Athena and 91 Ian Carradice, “The ‘Regal’ Coinage of the Persian Empire,” in Coinage and Administration in the Athenian and Persian Empires: the Ninth Oxford Symposium on Coinage and Monetary History (ed. Ian Carradice; BAR International Series 343; Oxford: BAR Archaeological Reports, 1987), 75. 92 Dandamaev and Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, 196; however, Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 408, notes that a Type II archer-king seal appears on a Persepolis Fortification Tablet from 500 BCE 93 Stronach, “Early Achaemenid Coinage,” 268–69. 94 Ibid., 278. 95 Carradice, “The ‘Regal’ Coinage of the Persian Empire,” 76.

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owl designs and the coinage of Aegina. Perhaps this arose from the coins of other Greek states have been “… much more frequently de-monitized, melted down, and re-struck, where sigloi carried on circulating year after year, getting steadily more worn.”96 There was, therefore, a level of confidence that came with the use of the imperial coinage and engendered repeated use far beyond the use of the other coins with which it was found. And, like its Athenian counterpart, Persian imagery exercised considerable influence on other more limited issues by provinces or states. In the Levant, a number of Persian motifs are found in the coins that some have attributed to Samaria, though fewer are extant in the Yehud coins (more on these below). Unlike these darics, which were also an imperial coin throughout the vast empire, the distribution of the silver Persian coins appears to have been far more limited. Throughout most of the empire, silver was used as bullion – as is known from Babylonia, so it did not need to be minted, though minted silver could still be used (based upon its weight, however). The geographical focus for these silver sigloi was simply the regions with significant contact with the Greek world, where coinage was considerably more widespread. The sigloi were generally limited to Asia Minor, perhaps usually in conjunction with large Persian campaigns in the region.97 Persian rulers since Darius appear to have issued coins from around 500 BCE onwards. These issues remain quite consistent in terms of their imagery and projection of a strong Persian ruler in the archer-king types. What is likely is that the combination of this evidence suggests that the Persian rulers were aware of the ideological value of stable coinage. This theoretical perspective is inherent in Herodotus’ narrative about Darius and the provincial ruler of Egypt, Aryandes: Now this Aryandes had been appointed ruler of the province of Egypt by Cambyses; and after the time of these events he lost his life because he would measure himself with Dareios. For having heard and seen that Dareios desired to leave behind him as a memorial of himself a thing which had not been made by any other king, he imitated him, until at last he received his reward: for whereas Dareios refined gold and made it as pure as possible, and of this caused coins to be struck, Aryandes, being ruler of Egypt, did the same thing with silver; and even now the purest silver is that which is called Aryandic. Dareios then having learnt that he was doing this put him to death, bringing against him another charge of attempting rebellion.98

In this vignette, the satrap Aryandes challenges Darius’ authority in Egypt – a region always teetering on rebellion against Persia – by attempting to make his coins more valuable than those struck by Darius. The story need not be true to

96

Ibid., 91. Ibid., 92. 98 4.166 97

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indicate that, at least to the Greek Herodotus, media wars in this period took place on coins. This does not appear to be the whole story from a Persian point of view. Several startling facts show that the Greek approach to coinage was not the only one operative at this time, and not simply because the Persians or other peoples were unsophisticated. First, few Persian coins have been recovered. And even more puzzling are the frequent appearance of other types of coins – both those of Persian provinces and those of Greek competitors – in Persianruled territory. Thus, in spite of the continuity of the Persian archer-king series beyond the reign of a single Persian monarch, the Persian rulers did not seem particularly concerned with limiting the types of coinage in their realm as a way to broadcast the image of royal power. The Persian Empire’s use, issuance, and overall monetary policy remains something of a mystery for scholars, in part because it differs significantly from the Greek (and especially Athenian) approach. If Persian coinage was so trustworthy, why have so few hoards emerged? Focusing specifically on the Levant, up to the middle of the fifth century, Greek coins made up the lion’s share of circulating currency in Palestine. Just how scant are finds of Persian coins? While chance can always play a significant role in archaeological discovery, these coins are hardly represented in the archaeological record, For example, so far only a single Persian dar(e)ikos has been recovered from Palestine, and this was an imitation double dareike from Samaria.99 Very few Achaemenid silver coins have been found in Palestine either.100 The lack of finds can be explained as follows: the darics were the only gold coins issued in the fifth-fourth centuries, since the Greek principalities issued silver (and some bronze) coins. This singularity and value of the gold darics put them in a category by themselves, so they were not handled like the normal coins of the period.101 They instead took on, quite ironically, a significant symbolic value. 99 Corresponding to the coins of Darius III (336–31 BCE). See Pierre Bordreuil, “Une nouvelle monnaie babylonienne de Mazday,” in Collecteana Orientalia: Histoire, arts de l’espace et industries de la terr (ed. H. Gasche and B. Hrouda; Civilisations du ProcheOrient I,3; Neuchatel: Recherches et publications, 1996), 27–30; and Josette Elayi and Alain G. Elayi, “Le monnayage sidonien de Mazday,” Transeu 27 (2004): 155–62. 100 Hübner, “The Development of Monetary Systems,” 162. 101 Michael Alram, “Iranian Coins & Mints: Achaemenid Dynasty: Daric: The Achaemenid Currency,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, http://www.cais-soas.com/CAIS/Economy/daric. htm#IRANIAN%20COINS%20&%20MINTS:%20ACHAEMENID%20DYNASTY. He summarizes: “At any rate, all the finds now known conform without exception to the picture of Achaemenid monetary policy developed by Daniel Schlumberger on the basis of the hoard at Čaman-e Hočūrī near Kabul: The siglos can be identified as a local currency for Asia Minor, whereas it is clear from the importance of the daric in the gold market of antiquity that it was conceived from the beginning as a superregional trading currency. As a continuously minted piece of precious metal with a stable value, it was certainly able to compete

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While Persian hegemony prevailed, the same was not the case in terms of coins. In this category, Greek issues predominated. Furthermore, local coinage was a gradual development, and it often came lock-step with a Greek-influenced (through Phoenician mediation) commercialization. Coins from Levantine mints only took root around the middle of the fifth century, when the Phoenician and Philistine cities began making their own coins.102 Furthermore, Greek motifs rather than Persian ones continued to provide the foundation for many local issues. What is surprising about the domination of Greek coins and motifs on locally issued coins is that Greece did not control the region politically until the late fourth century. This divergence begs the question of why the Persian authorities allowed this situation to materialize. It seems impossible to assume that the Persians were simply unaware of possible ideological implications connected with decisions about the motifs appearing on coinage. Furthermore, any claims to authority bundled with the ability to strike coins was unlikely to be lost on the Persian leaders, as seen above in their issuance of the archer series. Mildenberg suggests, “Im Perserreich konnte man Münzen prägen, wann und wo sie benötigt wurden und wenn die materiellen und technischen Mittel dafür vorhanden waren.”103 The Persian Empire did not seek to function as a centralized empire in this particular regard, but rather as a confederation. This conclusion suggests caution when linking the issue of coinage necessarily with a particular type of “state ideology.” The issuance of coinage by provinces need not have signified rebellion. No doubt, however, there is some connection between the development of local authority and ideology, but its nature seems difficult to state precisely. Coins do embody their issuing authority in some sense. A certain body representing the ruling authority – whether a particular ruler or the citizens of a city – needed to decide on the specific images that would appear on the coins.104 These choices are highly political and symbolic. Whether the use of these coins or their distribution must be accompanied by the same political and symbolic import is another question. An assertion of political independence over against other states is often understood to accompany the issuance of coinage. This conclusion can easily be drawn from modern minting. Certain ancient political entities also used coinage in this manner, as with the Attic tetradrachm or the electrum stater from Cyzicus, especially during the 5th century. Its function as a freely circulating means of exchange was nevertheless limited, owing to its relatively high value; it must indeed have been traded primarily as bullion.” 102 Hübner, “The Development of Monetary Systems,” 163; John W. Betlyon, “The Provincial Government of Persian Period Judea and the Yehud Coins,” JBL 105 (1986): 635. 103 Leo Mildenberg, “Über die Münzbildnisse in Palästina und Nordwestarabien zur Perserzeit,” in Images as Media: Sources for the Cultural History of the Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean: 1st Millenium BCE, ed. C. Uehlinger, OBO 175 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 2000), 377. 104 Hölscher, “Money and Image,” 127.

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can be observed by the starkly Jewish motifs on Hasmonean and Bar-Kochba coins, which are then shown to have been understood as assertions of political independence in the subsequent Roman issues. These Roman coins depict a weeping Jerusalem as booty for the Roman conquerors. A different type of political usage of coinage can be observed in the Athenian empire of the fifth century BCE, which attempted to forbid the use of foreign coinage within its borders, and also in the third-century Ptolemaic realm, which used lighter weights and bronze coins not accepted in lands belonging to the rival Seleucids. Yet these scenarios do not appear to apply to the Persian situation. Summarizing the long view of Persian monetary points to a more complex picture. On the one hand, the consistent archer-king gold darics indicate a clear imperial ideological message known even beyond the empire to Greek writers. Yet the uneven usage of silver sigloi versus foreign Greek or regional coins indicates that the Persian policy speaks against the necessity of the same kind of ideological use for the fifth-fourth centuries BCE prior to Alexander. While local minting does raise questions of regional identity, there is no need to link this with assertions of politically sovereign independence. Instead, I would argue that it is more compelling to locate the freedom to mint coins regionally in light of the corresponding freedom to set up communities complete with legal stipulations and temples much like those found in Ezra-Nehemiah, Udjahorresnet, or perhaps the disputed Gadatas inscription, which will all be discussed below.105 Such a development would perhaps indicate a broader Persian policy supporting economic development (for tax purposes) rather than more overt political ones. This narrow focus on coinage does not produce definitive results on either Persian economic policy or the intellectual background that is bound up with the development of marked metal. Instead, a broader view of the economic structures and developments in the Persian world is required. It is to this discussion that I now turn. 4.3.3. Persepolis Given these theoretical and broad general economic conditions and characterizations, this section – and the following ones – discusses particular geographical sets of data from the Persian Empire, beginning first in the empire’s heartland and moving from there geographically and culturally closer to Yehud. The most prominent and easily accessible data for the central Persian heartland are the Persepolis Fortification Tablets (PFT) and Treasury Tablets (PTT). They 105

Joseph Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase: The Place of Ezra and Nehemiah in the Origins of Judaism (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 32, 95–96; idem, “The Mission of Udjahorresnet and Those of Ezra and Nehemiah,” JBL 106 (1987): 409–21; Schmid, “Persische Reichsautorisation und Tora,” 494–506. On the questions surrounding the authenticity of the Gadatas inscription, see Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 491–92.

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arise from the later part of the sixth century until the middle of the fifth century and provide detailed insight into the inner workings of the economic system of the Persian Empire and various economic developments that took place. As far as the site itself, construction of the monumental structures began under Darius and continued under his son and successor Xerxes according to several royal inscriptions.106 The most well-known structure from the site is the Apadana, the remains of which display imagery of subordinates from the empire bringing gifts, an indication of a traditional tribute economy. The PFT, still not published in their entirety though discovered early on in the archaeological excavations at Persepolis, contain thousands of Elamite, Akkadian, and Aramaic texts from the years 509–494 BCE.107 The first portion, several thousand Elamite (and one Akkadian) texts, deal with the payment, collection, rationing, and transport of basic commodities such as grain, animals, hides, and wine. The geographic purview does not expand beyond the Persian heartland (except for some travel provisions), yet, in contrast to the statement by Herodotus (3.97) often taken to imply the contrary, many of the tablets can be understood as tax payments by the Persians themselves to the imperial treasuries.108 There are, then, records of tax inflows (e.g., PFT 267– 70) and then subsequent redistributions (e.g., PFT 741–1084, which are monthly rations), showing flows in and out of the royal treasury. There is also 106

Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 168–69; Erich Friedrich Schmidt, Persepolis, OIP 68–70 (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1953), 206–11. 107 Richard T. Hallock, Persepolis Fortification Tablets, OIP 92 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969). 108 Gerassimos G. Aperghis, “The Persepolis Fortification Tablets – Another Look,” in Studies in Persian History: Essays in Memory of David M. Lewis, ed. M. Brosius and A. Kuhrt, Achaemenid History 11 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 1998), 56–59. He states (ibid., 59), “Apart from having no other explanation for why such large quantities of produce should be collected at royal storehouses from named Persians, with specific reference to their estates at times, there is enough direct evidence to suggest that what we see reflected in the Fortification texts are the proceeds of taxation in Elam and Persis, contrary to what was thought by Herodotus, and that tax may even have been applied to the Persian nobility … Tax is clearly recorded for goats and sheep, but I believe it can also be seen in connection with other commodities when there is reference to baziš or bazi makers in the texts.” For some texts Aperghis’ argument is based on the reinterpretation of the OP term kurmin as “supplied by” rather than “entrusted to,” but there are the examples with baziš as well that support his point. Christopher Tuplin, “Taxation and Death: Certainties in the Persepolis Fortification Archive?,” in L’archive des fortifications de Persépolis: état des questions et perspectives de recherches actes du colloque organisé au Collège de France par la “Chaire d’histoire et civilisation du monde achéménide et de l’empire d’Alexandre” et le “Réseau international d’études et de recherches achéménides” (GDR 2538 CNRS), 3-4 novembre 2006, ed. P. Briant, W. F. M. Henkelman, and M. W. Stolper, Persika 12 (Paris: de Boccard, 2008), 317–86 is wary of the conclusions drawn by Aperghis about the tax collection in the data, opening the possibility for other kinds of allocation, perhaps simply between administrative centers.

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two-part system within the rationing itself: one part is responsible for assigning the amounts of rations and the other part for distributing them, which would allow for a degree of checks and balances.109 The rations themselves are collected at regional centers, and, generally speaking, apportioned from there (see PFT 1790–91, 1793–94; NN 254, 572, 727, 1101, 1289, 1847, though these are somewhat exceptional). Surpluses however, were transferred to royal storehouses (e.g., PFT 823, 6764) or could otherwise be traded for other goods. In fact, some of this trade appears to have taken place for silver no later than 504 BCE110 In terms of the economic performance of the Persian Empire, the details of the PFT help with the determination of some prices and price ratios. There are normal equivalencies for sheep and wine for barley: 1 sheep = 100 quarts of barley and 10 quarts of wine = 30 quarts of barley.111 However, it is also possible to go a step further and note that while there is some evidence of price development, it does not reveal the tendencies of a free market. The equivalence between grain and sheep moved from 100 to 200, and then to 75 quarts. Because the equivalencies are in measured and rather large steps, the fluctuation of grain availability appears to have led to periodic readjustment of the value of grain compared to the more stable commodity of sheep.112 These texts also reveal some level of exchange, perhaps some between storehouses, but also with external parties. While the nature of these external parties remains unclear – Henkelman suggests small landholders, Persian nobles, and administrative functionaries.113 A final insight into the economic workings of the empire comes from the Aramaic inscriptions from the PFT on various household items like trays and mortar and pestle. These inscriptions were originally interpreted as ritual texts,114 though that does not seem to be the best understanding. They date from 479–435 BCE, quite a bit later than the rest of the PFT. Instead of concluding 109 Gerassimos G. Aperghis, “Storehouses and Systems at Persepolis: Evidence from the Persepolis Fortification Tablets,” JESHO 42 (1999): 152–93. 110 Idem, “Surplus, Exchange and Price in the Persepolis Fortification Texts,” in Économie antique: prix et formation des prix dans ses économies antiques, ed. J. Andreau, P. Briant, and R. Descat, Entretiens d’archéologie et d’histoire 3 (Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges: Musée Archéologique Départemental, 1997), 285–88. Collection of dues or taxes also could take place in silver by the turn of the century, as found in the Akkadian text (PTT 85); cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 429. 111 Hallock, Persepolis Fortification Tablets, 4. Cf., i.e., PFT 352; 363–64. 112 Aperghis, “Surplus, Exchange and Price in the Persepolis Fortification Texts,” 281. 113 Wouter F. M. Henkelman, “Animal Sacrifice and ‘External’ Exchange in the Persepolis Fortification Tablets,” in Approaching the Babylonian Economy: Proceedings of the START Project Symposium, Held in Vienna, 1–3 July 2004, ed. H. D. Baker and M. Jursa, AOAT 330 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005), 151. 114 Raymond A. Bowman, Aramaic Ritual Texts from Persepolis, OIP 91 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970).

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that they refer to a ritual action (“used by X”), the background of gift exchange implies that they were instead administrative notations of donor names, whereby the name of the giver was inscribed onto the gift.115 According to this view, they are better taken as donations by various individuals (“made by”/ “commissioned by”), later placed in the storehouse. Therefore, in addition to putting the linguistic diversity of the Persian Empire on display, these short inscriptions provide concrete evidence for the “gifts” given to the Great King, demonstrating the gift and counter-gift customs within Persia proper.116 The PTT, first collected and translated with commentary by G. G. Cameron in 1948,117 provide insight into the economic dealings in the region surrounding Persepolis from roughly 492–458 BCE They are, then, a bit later than PFT, and span the reigns of Darius and Xerxes. The most important development garnered from these tablets is the accounting processes reflected in them. Considerable discussion has taken place regarding the role of silver in relation to equivalencies given in kind. In his initial monograph Cameron understood the relationship to be one where payments mostly take place in kind, but recorded in the equivalent amounts of silver. For example: (PTT 11.5–8): “… Baradkama is responsible, he has received. Sheep (serve) as the equivalent [šaki] (of the money).” A better rendering for the Elamite word šaki may in fact be “counterpart,” as Hallock suggests, meaning silver paid in lieu of material goods.118 If this is the case, then the silver may have been a payment as a supplement or “remainder” (so Cameron in a subsequent publication) in addition to other wages paid in kind, given that the silver amounts are very minimal.119 As the majority of tablets actually deal with these types of payments to workers, there is then a progressive movement away from payment in kind toward payment in silver.120 This development shows that, at least in the heart of the Persian administration, silver came to play a role as a means of exchange no later than early in the early to mid-fifth century, hardly surprising given that silver was paid for

115 Baruch A. Levine, “Review of Aramaic Texts from Persepolis, by Raymond A. Bowman,” JAOS 92 (1972): 70–79. 116 Cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 398. See Xenophon, Car. VII.5.67. 117 George Glenn Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets OIP 65 (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1948). Unless otherwise noted, the English translations of the PTT come from this volume. 118 Richard T. Hallock, “A New Look at the Persepolis Treasury Tablets,” JNES 19 (1960): 91, 94; also Kuhrt, The Persian Empire, 2:788 for PTT 27. 119 George G. Cameron, “Persepolis Treasury Tablets Old and New,” JNES 17 (1958): 161–76. 120 Heidemarie Koch, Verwaltung und Wirtschaft im persischen Kernland zur Zeit der Achämeniden, Beihefte zum tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients. Reihe B, Geisteswissenschaften 89 (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1990), 235.

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wages in Babylonia in the sixth century, and also in quite remote region of the Caduchians at circa 400 BCE (Xenophon, Anab. III.5.16). Of further importance, the recipients of these supplementary payments did not belong to the elite, and the amounts are too small to be used for luxury items. This observation indicates that silver in small amounts could circulate, though whether it was some kind of coin or marked metal or rather just weighed is unclear and rather insignificant. Further support for the use of exchangeable silver are records of payments in silver directly to thirteen individuals, of quite large amounts.121 The payment of large amounts does suggest a different level of economic functioning than the small payments of “remainders.” Taken together, these records show that silver was used for larger transactions, and also for quite miniscule ones. Such broad payment levels point to a relatively developed use of silver in commercial exchange. Especially the smaller amounts indicate that markets of some kind existed where workers could use the silver as a means of exchange to supplement their wages in kind for necessities. Cameron summarizes the situation as follows: Yet except for a few grants made by the king personally, in all the treasury records not a single individual seems to be “paid” more than eight shekels of silver per month; other “payments” range downward through the very common “wage” of 3 3/4 shekels to 2/3 of a shekel monthly; … The plain fact is, however, that the amounts specified in the great majority of the treasury documents are not the full wages at all. They are mere cash supplements to other (and in apparently most cases considerably larger) sums which have already been paid or, at least, accounted to the workmen.122

The payments, then, can be quite minor, implying a market reaching well beyond luxury long-distance trade, the usual realm attributed to market-type exchange in early economies. Cameron considers the Persepolis documents to document the rise of monetization, such that “… they give documentary evidence for administrative problems resulting from a sudden shift from that type of economy in which men are paid in goods for their services to that in which they are paid in cash,”123 transitioning to a kind of “money economy.” One might critique the use of the term “money.” Yet the fact that computations of payments – as well as parts of the payments themselves – took place in karsh and shekels does not imply money understood as coinage, assuming that this is what Cameron implies with the use of the word “cash.”124 The silver, as seen in the one Akkadian 121

Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, 89. Cameron, “Persepolis Treasury Tablets Old and New,” 169–70. 123 Idem, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, 1. 124 My contention is supported by the statement on the following page: “In all Treasury records the total payment is declared to be in units (karsha and shekels) of silver. Tablet No. 1, for example, is a record involving the payment of 3 karsha, 21 shekels of silver to one 122

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record in this collection (PTT 85),125 though perhaps not written in Persepolis provides a graphic example: (rev. 1–4) Silver, tax of Pattemidu, the Mede, son of the shepherd. 8 minas (of) white silver – therein on (each) 10-shekel (piece), when it was “refined” it was lessened (by) ½ shekel. Total: 9 ½ shekels (left of each 10-shekel piece). … (5–7) 26 mina[s less 5 shek]els of second-grade silver. Therein on (each) 10-shekel (piece), when it was “refined” it was lessened (by= ½ shekel (and) an eighth (= 5/8 shekel); total: 9 shekels+1/4+1/8 (=9 3/8 shekels) it was lessened … (8–11) 8 minas, 55 shekels of third(-grade) silver – therein on (each) 10-shekel (piece), “refined,” it was decreased (by) 1/24 (shekel); total: 2/3+1/4+1/24 it has been decreased …126

This record shows that the pieces of silver – even if they were in the form of coins – were not treated by the officials entrusted with evaluating them as “coins.” This observation proves unexpected, given that coinage for Persia arguably began at an earlier point during the reign of Darius, and certainly by 500 BCE.127 That is, their exchange value was not taken for granted based on their appearance as coins, if that is what they were. Value was instead calculated in terms of the underlying value of the metal itself, which was determined by placing each 10-shekel (whether these were “pieces” meaning coins as Cameron concludes on the relative frequency of 10-shekel pieces:128 they could also be “bars” in various forms) into one of three categories arranged by their purity. It is likely, based on the use of the term “refined” (patāqu), that the silver was even melted down, again pointing to the relative unimportant nature of the form. Such a practice (cf. Herodotus, Hist. 3.96) is also known from the Babylonian temples that likewise used silver to cover basic expenses.129 In light of the diversity of coins that appear in the Persian empire, their primary sphere of usage on the empire’s western edge and almost absence from Persia proper, and the possible melting down of coins for their value in silver, the rise of coinage should not be attributed excessive importance for the economic developments in the Persian Empire. Concluding that coinage was necessary for economic development is neither warranted by the evidence, nor is it necessary to man; throughout the document the computation of his monthly wages is based on the assumption that coined money exists,” ibid., 2. 125 A second Akkadian text documenting a private transaction has also been found, cf. Matthew W. Stolper, “The Neo-Babylonian Text from the Persepolis Fortification,” JNES 43 (1984): 299–310. 126 Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, 203. 127 A Fortification Tablet from this year bears the imprint of the kneeling archer-king of Type II. Cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 408. 128 Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, 201 n. 19. 129 This issue emerges in Cameron’s reliance on Pseudo-Aristotle’s Oeconomica, which appears when considering the role of coinage in the Persian empire in this insight attribute to the Oeconomica: “The right to coin money, he declares and as we have long since known, was the exclusive monopoly of the Persian Great King.” Cf. Cameron, “Persepolis Treasury Tablets Old and New,” 168.

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support the considerable amount of long-distance and local trade taking place in Persepolis. Passing mention should also be made of the nebulous system of kurtash, likely some kind of corvée that was in place in the Persian heartland. Many of the wages and rations are accorded to such workers of diverse abilities and origins.130 Briant finds them more comparable to slaves than to helots, of some sort.131 As I have noted above, contrary to the view put forward by Herodotus, the main development in tribute and tax policy that should be attributed to Darius is the rise of labor requirements. Perhaps kurtash can be brought into connection with this corvée, though they may also be more like populations captured in war and their descendants. Nonetheless, it is clear that these dependents of the empire also were part of a partially monetized system. Finally, given the observations of robust commerce apparent in the Persepolis documents and the intricate organization of tax collections and ration apportioning in Persia proper, what can be extrapolated for Yehud during the same period and even a century after the last date found in the PTT? In light of the lack of evidence for such considerable organization in the Levant, it is possible to imagine considerable divergence. Briant, however, posits exactly the opposite might be the case: Despite the gaps in the documentation, and whatever the extent of local peculiarities, we may reasonably suppose that the management of royal property was organized identically in every satrapy in the Empire. The obvious concurrence of the analysis by Pseudo-Aristotle, the information in the Egyptian and Babylonian documents, and the Persepolis model leads us to think that this organization had been in place since the time of Darius.132

While this may be the case with royal properties, how far does this carry over for the economies of each region, especially as they draw nearer to Yehud? The next section moves a bit closer to Yehud, discussing Babylonia, whose importance for the empire, maintenance of a royal residence (in Babylon), proximity to Persia itself, and cultural-historical importance for the Judahite/Jewish communities and literature give its situation considerable weight as a strong bridge between Persia proper and Yehud.

130

“Household slave” is seen as the original meaning by Dandamaev and Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, 158. 131 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 439. 132 Ibid., 471; cf. Rainer Albertz, “Zur Wirtschaftspolitik des Perserreiches,” in Geschichte und Theologie: Studien zur Exegese des Alten Testaments und zur Religionsgeschichte Israels, BZAW 326 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003), 335–57.

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4.3.4. Babylonia In order to investigate the economics of Persian-period Babylonia, the vast amount of evidence from contemporary Babylonia provides the most accessible source. 133 This data comes from the Neo-Babylonian through the Persian periods, making it important comparative material for Early Second Temple Yehud both in terms of the dates of the material and also because of the presence of Judean exiles in Babylonia.134 There is also considerable influence of Babylonian-Mesopotamian culture generally speaking on biblical texts of this period.135 Interaction occurs between Mesopotamia and the emerging Jewish communities both on the intellectual level as represented in texts, and on the physical level as evidenced by the return of exiles from Mesopotamia to Yehud.136

133 The most extensive research on this topic has been conducted by Jursa, especially in his Michael Jursa, “On Aspects of Taxation in Achaemenid Babylonia: New Evidence from Borsippa,” in Organisation des pouvoirs et contacts culturels dans les pays de l’empire achéménide actes du colloque organisé au Collège de France par la “Chaire d’histoire et civilisation du monde achéménide et de l’empire d’Alexandre” et le “Réseau international d’études et de recherches achéménides” (GDR 2538 CNRS), 9-10 novembre 2007, ed. P. Briant, Persika 14 (Paris: Editions de Boccard, 2009), 237–69 though a number of his shorter publications are also helpful. 134 Laurie E. Pearce, “New Evidence for Judeans Babylonia,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 399–411. A small number of written sources shed light on the exilic Jewish communities. Pearce (ibid., 400) has published texts referring to a town called āl-Yāhūda, about which she suggests: “Its name, to be translated ‘the city of Judah’, reflects the geographic origin of a major component of its population.” These texts include typical Babylonian varieties – receipts of sale for livestock, debt notes, and other economic texts. The dates of the texts show that the town was established no later than 572 BCE, within two decades of the conquest of Judah and destruction of Jerusalem. This evidence underscores “ethnic” communities for the Jews, as was posited early on analogy with the Neirab community and with other toponyms like “Settlement of the Egyptians” or “Town of the Cilicians. She has also recently detailed the upwardly-mobile nature of some of these Jewish families in Laurie E. Pearce, “From Exile to Executive? Social Integration and Mobility in the Al-Yahudu Texts” (presented at the SBL Annual Meeting, San Diego, 2014). Cf. Muhammad A. Dandamaev, “Twin Towns and Ethnic Minorities in First-Millennium Babylonia,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 137–51. 135 I.a., P, Lamentations, Ezekiel, and Deutero-Isaiah; cf. Schmid, Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments, 109–39, 146–50. 136 Regardless of how Ezra 2, Neh 7 are understood in conjunction with the lack of imprint in the material record; see Sara Japhet, “The Temple in the Restoration Period: Reality and Ideology,” in From the Rivers of Babylon to the Highlands of Judah: Collected Studies

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The sources for this period in Babylonia arise primarily from temple and private archives, with only a group of ration lists from Nebuchadnezzar’s palace directly representing the royal sector in Babylonia, though from a slightly earlier date. Jursa notes that overall there are forty-six archives of priestly families and fifty-six archives from outside the temple sector for this period.137 Temples are represented most prominently by the temple archives of Ebabbar in Sippar and Eanna in Uruk, though also those from priestly families in Borsippa and Babylon. Private archives unrelated to the temple include the Egibi (the largest) and Tabia archives from Babylon itself. Others have been found in Uruk, as well as the Murashu and further ones from Nippur. Especially in biblical studies, pride of place has been granted to the Murashu archive, yet it appears to represent an exception in the typical economic structures of Babylonia. Jursa argues New information about taxation-related matters from the sixth century allows for a re-assessment of the archive's contribution in this respect, while the comparative treatment of agricultural development in different areas of Babylonia shows that many of the Murashu archive’s peculiarities are owed to the specific agrarian conditions around Nippur.138

Bringing together the wealth of new data also allows for a richer, if still very partial, understanding of the situation. In order to provide an overview of the economy and its developments during this era, my discussion will explore various perspectives. The first investigate is the political transition from the Babylonian Empire to Persian Empire as well as the significance of later political events for the economy. In the second I will consider the structure of the economy, investigating the temple, commercial, and royal sectors. In connection with this discussion I will note, third, the types of silver bullion used. A fourth exploration attends to the various taxes. Fifth, I will consider the significant developments that occurred. Sixth, in conclusion I will address the importance of the economy of Babylonia for Yehud and its texts. While there was a switch of political empires, the general economic situation in Babylonia indicates continuity rather than a break between the Neo-Babylonian and Persian periods. It may in fact be better, from an economic perspective, to consider the “break” between the Babylonian and Persian hegemonies as non-existent for the Babylonian economy. A relatively stable period (on an economic level) started no later than the reign of Nebuchadnezzar and continued until the revolts during the reign of Xerxes in 484 BCE, when a decisive

on the Restoration Period (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 201–2; Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” 32. 137 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 157. 138 Ibid., 12.

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change occurred, especially in northern Babylonia.139 The reason for setting this break here is that there is a widespread end to archives at this time, when literary texts also report that Babylon rebelled. A number of archives do actually continue, however, specifically those in southern Babylonia with a closer dependence on the Persian leadership.140 Re-defining the time-period in this way obviously contrasts with typical historical approaches in biblical studies, which separate the Neo-Babylonian from the Persian period.141 An important reason for this different designation in biblical studies arises from the important developments that occur, according to the biblical account, with the change of empires. While Babylon played the role of human instrument for the Exile, Persia’s rulers are key figures in bringing about the Return and rebuilding the Temple. This political and demographic change brought about, of course, significant theological developments in Yehud and among the Judean exiles. In time it also brought economic changes. What I wish to re-focus by defining the period generally as circa 600– 484 BCE are a number of characteristics and policies set in place by or under the Babylon Empire that continued into the Persian period. Nonetheless, while 484 BCE may have proven decisive for Northern Babylonia, this was not the case in the southern Levant.142 Second, what sectors can generally be considered to make up the Babylonian economy in this period? The largest sector throughout all of ancient society, regardless of the particular historical or geographic location, is the agricultural sector. In Babylonia this meant irrigation agriculture. The question is how it was managed: To what degree was control of fields, gardens, and livestock managed through family (communal, village-based) structures, through commercial agreements, as temple lands, as direct royal property, or by organizations such as the Nippur (Murashu) ḫatrus? Additional sectors include trade, construction, and the military. They were quite minor compared to agriculture and will, therefore, receive only marginal attention. Jursa argues for two primary economic spheres in Babylonia, the temple (or institutional) and the commercial: “It can be seen even from a superficial survey of any corpus of Neo-Babylonian texts that we are dealing with what could be called a binary economy, an economy characterised by an interdependence of economic spheres relying on exchange in kind and on exchange in cash (silver), respectively.”143 What lies behind this conclusion? For clan or village based 139

Ibid., 3. Caroline Waerzeggers, “The Babylonian Revolts Against Xerxes and the ‘End of Archives,’” AfO 50 (2003): 158–60. 141 Note, however, the title “The Babylonian-Persian Period” in Berlejung, “History and Religion of Ancient Israel,” 178. 142 For discussion of the historical and economic developments in Yehud, see below, 4.4.–4.5. 143 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 473. 140

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holdings, there is simply a dearth of written data. Thus, it is not that Jursa even denies this as an important sector, but there is no easy way to track it.144 For a similar reason it is difficult to address the nature of the royal sector,145 though there is some evidence for filling in this lacuna that I will note below. The ḫatrus, on the other hand, Jursa subsumes within his commercial sector. In keeping with this, his analyses generally track the separation and overlap of these two spheres by juxtaposing the private archives with those of the temples and temple functionaries. The Babylonian temples were the largest documented landowners during the Persian period: their land holdings could venture quite far from the actual temple locations, though they were centered on their host cities. From within this temple sector in Babylonia, there are two institutional archives and approximately fifty archives from priestly families, allowing for a rich portrait.146 Generally speaking, the economic activities in these institutions centered on provision of daily rations for the deities. A significant area of theoretical disagreement exists around the question of who profited from the temple complex. Marxist analysis has contributed significant insights into the ideological use of religion – and Babylonian religious institutions are no exception – for the economic and symbolic profit of those in prominent positions in these religions. Yet the duties placed upon temple personnel may in many cases have proven more of a burden than a benefit. So, unlike, for example, Clines’ evaluation of the Jerusalem temple,147 both the stated and, at least to a large extent, factual raison de être of the temples lay in their provision for the deities and their cult.148

144 Ibid., 19. On the difficulty of tracking it, see ibid., 27. One alternative is to consider sociological parallels, as is done, for example, by Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 36– 52, and discussed above. 145 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 759. 146 Ibid., 157. 147 “Haggai’s Temple, Constructed, Deconstructed and Reconstructed,” in Second Temple Studies 2: Temple and Community in the Persian Period, ed. T. Eskenazi Cohn and K. H. Richards, JSOTSup 175 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994), 82: “In whose interest is this rebuilding? Not the people’s. Even if they are not economists, they can see that temple building is not contributing to the gross national product,… The temple is a prestige project promoted by the elite, and its construction serves their sense of fitness, their vanity.” 148 I agree with Jursa’s note of the reductionism of a Marxist reading that locates the “true beneficiaries” in a small priestly class; cf. Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 54; As a result, human existence – rightly – appears as consisting of motivations of altruistic, spiritual-religious, economic, and other natures that cannot be reduced; cf. Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). For similar reflections on the Second Temple in Jerusalem, see Victor Avigdor Hurowitz, “Restoring the Temple: Why and When?,” JQR 93 (2003): 581–91.

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Focusing for now on the economic realm of the temple complexes of Babylonia as institutions, prior to the Neo-Babylonian period, the temples functioned largely in accord with Weber’s ideal type of the “household” oikos.149 That is, they were largely self-sufficient redistributive economies. The surprising development, however, is that this mode of operation is widely replaced during the Neo-Babylonian and into the Persian period by a system of payments to temple dependents, either in silver or in kind, with which these dependents were responsible to acquire the variety of necessities for maintaining themselves and their families.150 The documentation supporting this contention is of two kinds. First, there are simply considerable records of silver payments to temple dependents – these are in addition to payments for hired workers. Second, the wages in barley or dates often rise considerably and are not supplemented by other necessary products, such as sesame oil, beer, flour, wool, etc. As a result, these “rations” are instead payments-in-kind with which one needed then to trade for other necessary products. Fundamentals of a commercial or trade-based economy impinge on the oikos temple economies in various ways beyond the payment of wages to temple dependents as well. The Babylonian temples and Babylonian palace required considerable amounts of hired labor. One example is found construction work on the North Palace of Babylon (586–576 BCE) that was provided by the Eanna temple of Uruk.151 While there is significant similarity with the earlier NeoAssyrian construction of Sargon’s palace at Dur-Sharrukin in terms of labor organization, the Eanna temple paid laborers and suppliers to fulfill part of the temple’s obligations to build the North Palace in Babylon. Surprisingly, the tasks are not specialized luxury-oriented crafts, but rather basic tasks such as digging, spreading earth, and carrying building materials. The wages are usually calculated in silver, as are payments for basic supplies like bricks.152 Temples are seen relying strongly on hired workers, whom they paid in wages, even at times when temple dependents might still be receiving real rations. This is

149

Weber, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, 230–33. Michael Jursa, “The Remuneration of Institutional Labourers in an Urban Context in Babylonia in the First Millennium BC,” in L’archive des fortifications de Persépolis: état des questions et perspectives de recherches actes du colloque organisé au Collège de France par la “Chaire d’histoire et civilisation du monde achéménide et de l’empire d’Alexandre” et le “Réseau international d’études et de recherches achéménides” (GDR 2538 CNRS), 34 novembre 2006, ed. P. Briant, W. F. M. Henkelman, and M. W. Stolper, Persika 12 (Paris: de Boccard, 2008), 387–428. 151 Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “Eanna’s Contribution to the Construction of the North Palace at Babylon,” in Approaching the Babylonian Economy: Proceedings of the START Project Symposium, Held in Vienna, 1- 3 July 2004, ed. H. D. Baker and M. Jursa, AOAT 330 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005), 45–73. 152 Ibid. 150

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the case in this example: Beaulieu notes an important difference between provision of rations for the temple oblates (širkus) and wages in silver – or at least calculated in silver equivalency – for the hired workers (agru) in Babylon. Provision for Eanna temple oblates falls nicely into accepted and expected models of redistribution in a temple “household” or redistributive economy. The pervasiveness of hired workers in Babylon points in a different direction, towards commercializing tendencies. The implication from this particular example is that the Eanna temple needed to come up with resources to pay both the hired labor and the suppliers. It could not function as a self-sufficient oikos.153 The payment of wages to both dependents and hired labor brought with it the need to sell the temples’ agricultural produce to finance the wages. Such transactions took place in silver. As a logical corollary, the need for specie to pay wages and other expenses encouraged specialization on products meant for sale – cash crops.154 In the example of the Eanna temple, the temple sold primarily wool in order to procure silver. It then paid this silver to the workers performing menial tasks on behalf of the temple in the construction work on the palace.155 Finally, while wages constituted an important outlay that could be paid in silver, given the large tithes of agricultural products still commanded by Babylonian temples, payment to dependents still often took place in these staples. Purchase of animals for sacrifices, however, likely stood out as the largest reason for expenditure of silver by the temples in external transactions. These animal purchases made up the greatest number of transactions in which silver changes hands.156 As a result of these factors, while temples were the largest landholders, this does not imply that their landholdings equaled a corresponding amount of power. Because land was relatively cheap (outside of the cities), the need for other components, such as labor, water, and tools, rendered the temples dependent on a commercialized economy.157 It also limited their economic and political reach. 153 Muchamed Abdulkadyrovič Dandamaev, Slavery in Babylonia from Nabopolassar to Alexander the Great (626–331 BC), ed. M. A. Powell and D. B. Weisberg, trans. V. A. Powell, Rev. ed. (DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 1984), 651 notes, “It is true that a relatively large number of slaves worked on the temple estates. However, the temples were often forced to employ seasonal workers, even from neighboring countries.” 154 Michael Jursa, “Money-Based Exchange and Redistribution: The Transformation of the Institutional Economy in First Millennium Babylonia,” in Autour de Polanyi: vocabulaires, théories et modalités des échanges, ed. P. Clancier et al. (Paris: de Boccard, 2005), 183. 155 Beaulieu, “Eanna’s Contribution to the Construction of the North Palace at Babylon,” 62–65; cf. UNC 15 (Sack 1972); OECT 10 315. 156 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 515, 569. 157 Ibid., 759.

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Yet within the temple systems, it is noteworthy that the elite temple leaders tended to limit their involvement in commercial activities.158 They instead lived off of their prebends, along with small supplementation from nearby agricultural installations.159 They shared their interest in urban real estate with nontemple elites, and this constituted the most important category for storage of wealth: the size of one’s home was linked directly to one’s level of wealth.160 Beyond this shared value, however, high temple functionaries comparatively avoided the commercial enterprises such as managed agriculture and trade in staples, long-distance trade, and money and credit transactions. There was, thus, a separation between those involved in the prebendary temple economies, who also benefited from their own land holdings, and those focused on trade and credit enterprises. Jursa cautiously engages in a bit of speculation about the motivations of the high temple functionaries, suggesting that their conservative approach may have been guided by the desire to preserve their family patrimony and to increase their prestige.161 Thus, the motivations cannot be described in strictly economic terms. A difference in values and mentality arose that was reflected in these two different economic spheres. Considerable amounts of land were in private hands during this period.162 This land, though not as vast as the holdings of the temples, can be considered the prime source of economic “progress”: lands belonging to the city-dwellers and worked by them and their tenants as part of land reclamation opened up intensely farmed garden lands along newly developed canals.163 Returning to my theoretical reflections from New Institutional Economics, this sector demonstrates both the growth of the economy in intensive and extensive terms.164 Furthermore, this commercial sector is where one would first turn in the search for market transactions, and such an investigation does not disappoint. In six-century Babylonia, long distance trade took place primarily in silver, as did – more surprisingly – pre-purchases of grain by middlemen. Such silver could be used to pay taxes or salaries, and to make purchases.165

158

Kathleen Abraham, Business and Politics under the Persian Empire: The Financial Dealings of Marduk-Nāṣir-Apli of the House of Egibi (521–487 B.C.E.) (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2004), 174. 159 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 29. 160 Ibid., 267. 161 Ibid., 294–95. 162 Peter R. Bedford, “The Persian Near East,” in The Cambridge Economic History of the Greco-Roman World, ed. W. Scheidel, I. Morris, and R. Saller (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 307. 163 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 767. 164 Cf. above, Section 1.3.3 165 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 628–29.

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Assuming that the presence of a commercial trade sector, both for luxury items and basic commodities can be taken as confirmed for at least some parts of Babylonia beginning no later than the Neo-Babylonian period. Considered diachronically, the massive Egibi archive offers the logical starting point. This archive, containing documents from 606–483 BCE, indicates that this family business grew from its core business of trade in commodities.166 During the reign of Darius (522–486 BCE), the most well-documented period of this archive, grain, dates onions, and wool were the most frequently traded commodities.167 Analysis of the archive details the firm’s initial role as a logistical intermediary firm bringing basic commodities to the growing cities, especially Babylon. The Neo-Babylonian regime’s policy of relocating exiles in order to take part in massive construction projects meant that there were large numbers of people in such locations that were not self-sufficient with regard to their basic needs. Families like the Egibis in Babylon and others in Larsa and Borsippa stepped in to fill this role. K. Abraham labels them nouveaux riches and entrepreneurs.168 Their core business of moving basic goods grew over time in vertical and horizontal fashion. With time they came to function as mediators between the temple’s agricultural products and the bullion-based trade in required goods.169 Other services provided include managing lands on behalf of state officials for a certain amount of rent or portion of the harvest.170 They also carried out functions as tax farmers on behalf of the Babylonian governor.171 In this role they paid a lump sum to the state, which then allowed them to collect the tax (ilku) from farmers, thereby securing agricultural products for trade. While the Egibis did not attempt to profit by lending out the bullion on deposit belong to others, they otherwise fulfilled the functions of a bank as well as a trading house.172 The rise of the Egibi family and other nouveaux riches indicates a certain openness within this epoch to a focus on economic profit. The particular situation of the Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid periods allowed for non-elites to rise through entrepreneurial actions to an elite status, accompanied by close relations with especially state officials. Among these merchants, at least in Sippar, were also a number of foreigners, including Judeans.173 Several texts (BM 166

The most important investigation of this archive remains Abraham, Business and Politics. She views their role in Babylonian society quite positively, at least in terms of the synergy between the Egibis and the state, calling it “mutually beneficial” (ibid., 182). 167 Ibid., 11. 168 Ibid., 9, 182. 169 Ibid., 181. 170 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 485. 171 Abraham, Business and Politics, 41–42. 172 Dandamaev and Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran, 215. 173 Tero Astola, “On the Road: Judean Royal Merchants in Babylonia” (presented at the SBL Annual Meeting, San Diego, 2014), 8–9.

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75434 and 74411) speak of these Judeans as royal merchants or as selling gold to the Ebabbar temple. Such an activity was likely a long-distance trade in the service of the empire. It is noteworthy that at least the Egibis did not acquire connections with high temple officials (i.e., šatammu or the šangu). As surmised by Jursa, it may be that these officials did not demonstrate considerable interest in these kinds of trading profits, supporting the difference in mentality mentioned above. About half a century later, the Murashu archive from Nippur indicates similar profit motivations. This archive of around 700–800 documents details dealings with collectives (ḫatrus), often known as “bow-lands,” but which could also be so-called “horse-lands.”174 The majority of the texts from the Murashu archive date between 440–416 BCE, the reigns of Artaxerxes I and Darius II, when Nehemiah and Ezra are reported to have been active in Jerusalem. The principle behind these institutions was that the king could require them to provide a specific type of soldier, completely equipped, in addition to a regular tax.175 While it might be possible to see these as a separate economic sector, their occupants are generally under the control of a town or temple.176 This observation provides justification for subsuming them under the two-part structure proposed by Jursa177. This Murashu archive details the activities of a single firm in the Nippur area of Babylonia. There appear to have been several idiosyncrasies about this region in comparison to other parts of Babylonia. One was that there were wide swaths of land available in this area. So, unlike the regions north of Babylon where cultivation and multi-crop agricultural regimes increased, around Nippur land was plentiful, and labor was at a premium.178 As a result, the region around Nippur became different from that of other cities in Babylonia in that

174

Matthew W. Stolper, Entrepreneurs and Empire: The Murašû Archive, the Murašû Firm, and Persian Rule in Babylonia, Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul 54 (Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut, 1985), 14. There is some debate as to exactly when this type of communal structuring began, but all agree it was full-fledged in the Persian period; cf. Jursa, “Grundzüge Der Wirtschaftsformen Babyloniens Im Ersten Jahrtausend v.Chr.,” 118; Stolper, “On Interpreting Tributary Relationships in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 149; Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 485. 175 Stolper, Entrepreneurs and Empire, 25. 176 Stolper, “On Interpreting Tributary Relationships in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 152. 177 See above and Jursa, “On Aspects of Taxation in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 473. 178 Jursa, “Taxation and Service Obligations in Babylonia from Nebuchadnezzar to Darius and the Evidence for Darius’ Tax Reform,” 432.

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much of the land in Nippur belonged to the royal sector.179 Groups of foreign exiles, including Judeans, were relocated there in order to work the land.180 While these collectives were organized on the basis of a contribution to the military, they appear in the Murashu documents far more as payers of ilku taxes in silver. Also their military service obligations could be paid off in silver.181 As such, the documents record a perspective on agricultural production that largely evinces profit orientation. The texts do not allow for an understanding of the dealings from the farmers’ perspectives: the Murashu archive, as economic records, provides an economized perspective. Just because their view is economized, however, is not to say that they document a market-oriented situation. Prices cannot be said to have fluctuated according to supply and demand. Rather, the dynamics of control were negotiated according to the ability – or rather the lack thereof – by farmers to pay their taxes or provide soldiers. These situations allowed the Murashu firm to lend the needed silver to the farmers, who become increasingly indebted to the firm.182 The story Stolper tells ends with the concentration of wealth (in both silver and land, for all practical purposes) in the hands of the firm, while farmers faced increasing impoverishment.183 It was not general impoverishment due to heavy taxation, but rather certain sectors flourished, while others suffered.184 Jursa also speculates on the motivations for those involved in this sector, but is again quite cautious: “… profit must have been the principal objective of all the trading, agricultural management, tax farming and so forth which we can observe in the entrepreneurial archives, that much cannot be doubted. But it is hardly possible to go beyond this observation.”185 The records of Marduknāṣir-apli of the Egibi house also point clearly in the direction of an economic profit motive. This is especially seen in his branching out into various ancillary

179 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 438. G. Van Driel and W. F. Leemans, “The Murašûs in Context,” JESHO 32 (1989): 203–36 dispute this claim, arguing that similar conditions obtain in the Egibi archive and elsewhere, but they do not take the kind of farming (cereal vs. date plantations) into consideration, which--together with the large tracks of land available and strong royal presence--separate Nippur from other Babylonian districts according to Jursa. 180 Astola, “On the Road: Judean Royal Merchants in Babylonia”; Israel Eph’al, ““The Western Minorities in Babylonia in the 6th-5th Centuries B.C.: Maintenance and Cohesion,” Or 47 (1978): 74–90. 181 Stolper, Entrepreneurs and Empire, 25. 182 Ibid., 122–24. 183 Ibid., 154. 184 Driel and Leemans, “The Murašûs in Context” instead suggest that perhaps farmers were happy to lease out their farms, if they could find someone to do the work. This situation implies a premium on labor. 185 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 295.

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businesses, such as owning and renting boats for transporting goods, collection of various taxes, and loaning silver.186 As mentioned above, a surprising absence exists, however, in the system as Jursa presents it: what is the role of the imperial sector? Is it correct to subsume it under the “institutional” category along with the temples? In defense Jursa notes that significant archival data on the palace sector has not yet been recovered. His conclusion is that the little data extant does mirror the temple institutions;187 a situation that could perhaps be argued for the royal lands managed by the Murashus. In general, this matches Liverani’s reconstruction of a two-part economic system.188 However, it may be possible to view the palace as a third economic sector, which seems especially pertinent to the Persian period.189 Dandamaev, for example, argues, “The Achaemenids considerably increased the area of royal land in Mesopotamia. The king held part of this land directly. … [They] also owned some large canals, which royal managers leased out. … In addition, members of the royal family and Persian nobility owned vast landed estates, which they put out for lease.”190 The administration of these royal lands can be deduced, to a certain degree, from the PFT. PFT 6764 calls for the transfer of 100 sheep/goats to the household of queen Irtaštuna by Darius.191 In explanation of this transfer of considerable wealth for the queen’s table, Henkelman proposes that the royal sector – the royal table – overlapped with but was not identical with the state administration known from the PTT and PFT. In Persepolis the royal sector appears only when various resources are extracted out of the administrative structures documented in the Persepolis archives. Generally speaking, these commodities were appropriated for royal tables when those tables were in geographical proximity to Persepolis. For example, the king himself would be in Susa in the spring, and this region would be responsible for provisioning the king’s table during his stay there. A similar expectation can be made for the tables of the travelling royalty throughout the year. However, while the geographic region hosting royals could expect to be called upon to provide items for the table, royal figures often provided for their own “tables” through their landholdings 186

Abraham, Business and Politics, 12–13. Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 759, 771. 188 Mario Liverani, “The Near East: The Bronze Age,” in The Ancient Economy: Evidence and Models, ed. J. G. Manning and I. Morris (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 47–57. 189 Boer, “The Sacred Economy of Ancient ‘Israel,’” 34. 190 Dandamaev, “An Age of Privatization in Ancient Mesopotamia,” 198. 191 Wouter F. M. Henkelman, “‘Consumed before the King’: The Table of Darius, that of Irdabama and Irtaštuna, and that of His Satrap, Karkiš,” in Der Achämenidenhof: Akten des 2. Internationalen Kolloquiums zum Thema “Vorderasien im Spannungsfeld klassischer und altorientalischer Überlieferungen”, Landgut Castelen Bei Basel, 23.-25. Mai 2007, ed. B. Jacobs and R. Rollinger, Classica et orientalia 2 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2010), 669. 187

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throughout the empire. For example, Irdabama (either Darius’ mother or one of his wives) had control of a large amount of commodities – 2,220 quarts of “apples of Irdabama” (NN 1849) and barley in the amount of 33,870 quarts (PF 0577).192 Henkelman concludes that part of this came from the queen (mother’s) own landholdings. Given the general acceptance of a royal residence in Babylon and other royal lands, especially in the region of Nippur (as evidenced in the Murashu archive), it seems too simplistic to reduce the royal sector to a subcategory of the institutional/temple sector as Jursa has done. As noted as part of these economic structures, commercialization and trade in silver increased dramatically in this period. This leads to a third important feature of the Babylonian economy, the role of silver bullion. Mention has already been made above of the use of silver in both large item luxury trade, in the purchase of supplies for building, and in the payment of wages to both hired workers and temple oblates. Moving beyond even the activities of such trading firms in the agricultural sector, there is also intriguing evidence of the use of silver for the purchase of everyday needs in urban contexts. For example, a certain Ṭābia writes in a letter to his wife Bābûnu from the Sîn-ilī archive: “… Get ten shekels of silver from somewhere and have (it) brought to me. … I am too ashamed to ask anyone here (for money).”193 This text reveals the importance – socially – of possession of enough silver to pay for one’s expenses in Babylon to take care of the individual needs of those of a certain status like the writer of this letter. However, also the acquisition of much cheaper items, down to 1/40 of a shekel (which might purchase several liters of barley), could be taken care of with silver.194 As a result, at least in an urban environment like Babylon, market transactions played a prominent role in everyday life. Beginning under the Neo-Babylonian Empire, records include an increasing move towards calculations in silver and reliance on hired workers, often paid in silver. Furthermore, from the discussion above it is clear that silver made inroads into even the most traditional of spheres in the sixth century, such as payment of rents, so that: “ … overall few Babylonians can have remained entirely unaware and unaffected by the use of silver in the economy.”195 The importance of this conclusion can hardly be overstated: if the same conclusion applies for Yehud, then thinking about trade exchanges became economized – or at least “commoditized.” Turning to the related matter of the nature of the silver, there are a variety of distinctions used with regard to the silver used in payment – white (peṣû), refined/examined (qalû), hacked (nuḫḫutu), ingot (šibirtu), undesirable/ugly 192 193

Ibid., 693. VAT 3137; Translation from Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia,

624.

194 195

Ibid., 626. Ibid., 500.

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(ṭuḫḫû), marked/stamped (ša ginni), and income of the treasury (erbu ša aranni). “Explicit (i.e., quantified) references to the fineness of silver appear around 600 BC;”196 they appear increasingly for about a century. Most common is the reference to silver of 87.5% purity (ša ina ištēn šiqli bitqu), though this description falls out of use later, likely because it became standard around the time of Artaxerxes (465–424 BCE) in the frequent description qalû, likely referring to silver handled in some manner by a smith. This action probably took place at the insistence of the central authority.197 Actual signs of royal interference in the descriptions comes through clearest in “income of the treasury,” which likely referred to silver that was at some point part of a treasury – not necessarily in that moment because the description appears mostly in private transactions.198 This designation then indicates a certain standard in terms of weight and purity. In sum, while the designations and make-up of the silver in Babylonian were in flux throughout the sixth and fifth centuries, there is no question that they were consistently and increasingly relied upon for everyday economic life. Noting the differentiation above between temple-institutional and royal sectors leans into a further important topic, the diverse Achaemenid tax requirements in Babylonia. The royal table(s) overlapped with it, sometimes requisitioning items from the state administration for their own use. According to the Greek texts, the provisions for the King’s table took their toll as far away as the provinces of Bactria and Babylon, and even satraps were required to contribute to this ukpiyataš (Elamite) or upyātu- (Akkadian) tax (cf. BM 82666, 94797, and 26703 from the reign of Darius I).199 Yet as I have indicated, unless the king and his entourage were present in one’s particular region, this tax in kind was produced on the royal estates. In this case, the satrap or other groups were only enlisted to see that the goods were transported, i.e., to Susa as seen in EAH 254, a text from the 18th year of Darius I.200 So, while this aspect of royal tax features in Greek descriptions of Persian life (e.g., Herodotus 1.118; Athenaeus 4.145a), it should not be emphasized, as it is difficult to even find its presence in the Babylonian texts.

196

Ibid., 475. Ibid., 477–78. 198 Ibid., 487–90. 199 Tuplin, “Taxation and Death,” 337. Jursa himself discusses these payments from Babylonia to Susa and Elam: Jursa, “On Aspects of Taxation in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 244– 45. 200 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 655. 197

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Secondly with regard to tax obligations, it is important to recall that the Persian authorities seemed less interested in extracting increased silver and agricultural goods than in corvée labor.201 Organized variously by profession, familial ties, or as a temple institution, the Persian Empire set in place considerable structures to extract manpower. It was, for example, primarily workers that were exported to Elam. For other types of taxes, the terminology is not always illuminating.202 For example, the ilku, the most general tax obligation that I have already mentioned above, may originally have presented a military requirement. By the Persian period, however, it had basically morphed into payment – usually in silver – that was a general term that needed to be specified to define its actual nature.203 It was not an all-inclusive term however, at least not during the reign of Darius I in the Egibi texts, but it is the primary one.204 In addition to military service (which one could instead pay off in silver), it did, quite often, include various kinds of service requirements, such as the transport of commodities, work on bridges, or other corvée type duties.205 Likewise, some areas were organized by payments of military service (“bow-lands” were to pay a bow tax “qaštu”), others into a continuation of land taxes from earlier empires (hanšû), still others into groups of ten (ešertu) either according to residence or profession. On top of these tax categories could be delivery of tribute or corvée to Elam.206 Numerous other fees are mentioned in conjunction with the transport of agricultural goods (miksu and diku). Perhaps surprisingly, harvests themselves may not have been subject to regular (annual) royal tax, though a regular portion was paid to the local temple,207 as well as an administrative fee to the gugallu. This gugallu was originally connected to imposts at the canals or rivers – but, as is generally a problem, the actual function of these officials changes with time, turning more towards general collection of agricultural fees from a given region. Beyond the various kinds of taxes, another important insight arises from the Babylonian material coming from the times of Cyrus and Darius. Jursa notes that the Persian tax system left much of the administration and collection of taxes (or labor) in the hands of the Babylonian governor. Even in the case of 201

Jursa, “Taxation and Service Obligations in Babylonia from Nebuchadnezzar to Darius and the Evidence for Darius’ Tax Reform,” 443. This is the key element that is completely missing from Herodotus’ analysis of the Persian tax regime. 202 Jursa, “On Aspects of Taxation in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 240. 203 Ibid., 255. 204 Abraham, Business and Politics, 67. 205 It can often appear as a synonym to urāšu “corvée labourer/ corvée tax,” especially when it appears alone according to Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 485; Jursa, “On Aspects of Taxation in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 255. 206 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 167. 207 Ibid., 255.

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work gangs sent to far away Elam, the administrative documents make no mention of the Persian authorities in the organization of these corvée work parties. This data implies a decentralized system where, in the case of Babylonia, the tax revenues – especially with regard to silver paid in lieu of service – remained in circulation in Babylonia.208 This conclusion is important on two levels. In the first place, it negates the long-held position that the provinces suffered under the imperial practice of hoarding silver taken in taxes. Second, it refutes the notion that the Persian hegemony sought to extract every possible bit of wealth from the provinces to the detriment of their economies. This is not to say that the Persians ignored the strivings of provinces to break away from the empire. And, in response to such rebellions, it often meant the replacement of traditional provincial (indigenous) authorities. Such was the case in Babylon after the uprising at the beginning of Xerxes’ reign.209 This chain of events is what most likely led to the breaking off of a number of archives at this point: these families lost their lofty position within Babylonian society. However, if this decentralization and payment in silver extended to Yehud, its importance can hardly be underestimated, and it points to the possibility of a more highly bullion-monetized economy quite early on. It also implies situation that would have undoubtedly impacted the various Jewish communities residing in Babylonia, both before and after some of their numbers began the trek back to Yehud. In terms of overall changes, Jursa considers four factors primary for understanding the makeup of the economy in Babylonia at this time: “…demographic growth, an increasing degree of urbanisation, agrarian expansion and the roles of the state especially with respect to the latter.”210 While some of these factors may have initially resulted from one-way deportations by the Neo-Babylonian Empire to the Babylonian heartland for building efforts, this is not the case for the latter half of the period. Instead, a general period of peace and real economic growth (at least expansive if not intensive growth) provides a better explanation.211 The emphasis placed by the Persian taxation policy on corvée labor played a significant role in agrarian expansion. Vast areas of land were reclaimed for agriculture through new irrigation canals. The portrait above, based as it is on the evidence currently at hand, has generally been a synchronic one, leaving out considerable discussion of considerable change from roughly the time of Nebuchadnezzar forward. As mentioned above, Jursa takes the “long sixth century” – until 484 BCE as a functional era. The decisive change comes about with the revolt occurring at that time, during 208

Ibid., 653. Jursa, “On Aspects of Taxation in Achaemenid Babylonia,” 266. 210 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 42. 211 Bedford, “The Persian Near East,” 306–7. 209

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the succession from Darius to Xerxes.212 At this time all the major archives in northern Babylonia end, but this is not the case for those in the south. Furthermore, the break represents a certain layer of society, the elites that had been in place since before Achaemenid rule. Those dependent on the Persians for their positions remained intact. As a result the only major archive intact from post 480 BCE is from the Murashus. There are, however, significant issues with basing one’s understanding of the Achaemenid Babylonian economy as a whole for the later Persian period on these documents. Nippur was an anomalous region. These developments in Babylonia during the Achaemenid reign represent a significant challenge when attempting to transfer insights from Mesopotamia to Yehud: many significant events narrated in Ezra–Nehemiah, not to mention the writing of the narrative itself, take place later. However, as a result of the findings above, such economic developments and realities were available within the larger ancient Near East no later than Xerxes’ rise to the throne. Therefore, the fundamental question for my project, having now surveyed the economic situation in Persian Babylonia, is the comparability between Persian Babylonia and Persian Yehud. One contrast is the difference in crop regimes: Babylon had two (dates and cereals) rather than just cereal farming, like Mediterranean regions. This situation could allow for more stability in terms of the socio-economic framework.213 Not only the means of irrigation was different (canals versus rain runoff), but also the crop regimes themselves. In Babylonia dates became so important that date beer replaced barley beer as the most ubiquitous beverage. Furthermore, land use developed differently – in Babylonia crops were planted in more dense fashion, with barley even being planted amongst the date trees. The obvious result of these differences is that the Mediterranean farmers relied on the success of the cereal crop far more than the Mesopotamian farmers for their livelihood. And beyond the growing of crops themselves, the river and canal systems of Mesopotamia allowed for far cheaper transport of goods, supporting the development of trade in staples as seen in the Egibi archive. The mountainous regions of Yehud did not offer such ease of transport. A second critical difference lies in the state of urban life in Babylonia versus Yehud. The cities of Babylon did not undergo the same major destruction that left them desolate during the Neo-Babylonian period and into the Persian period like Jerusalem. They remained, or were recurring as, vibrant centers. The archaeology of Jerusalem and biblical texts paint a drastically different picture of Jerusalem, especially throughout the sixth and until at least the mid-fifth century, though likely even later.

212 213

My discussion here follows Waerzeggers, “Babylonian Revolts.” Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 52.

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Nonetheless, the demonstrable influence of Babylonian traditions on biblical literature and the presence of Judean communities in Babylonia make some degree of overlap and influence probable in the economic sphere as well. For example, some Judean exiles worked as royal merchants in the 6th century.214 There is, then, evidence that foreigners (Judeans and otherwise) were readily accepted as entrepreneurs. Furthermore, Yahwistic names, most prominently Yāḫū-šarra-uṣur, appear in Susa among witnesses during the time of Darius I, pointing to Judean inclusion among imperial bureaucrats.215 The further implications of this this influence will be investigated below, but it displays, at minimum, the kinds of economic experiences available to the Judean community that would send forth some returnees and remain in contact with those responsible for biblical texts from the Persian period. 4.3.5. The “Greek World” Inclusion of political-economic developments in the Greek polities and the Greek-speaking provinces of the Persian Empire in Asia Minor attempts to provide a richer background for the economics of Yehud through noting the economic developments found in the Greek cultures themselves. While often minimized, Greek-speaking realms took part in and influenced the larger waves of economic and cultural developments in the Persian Empire. Consideration of the Greek data is not only important because it took part in the Persian world, however; several fundamental changes arose from the Greek world. First, the economy of the Greek world grew phenomenally between 800 BCE and 300 BCE. Second, the proliferation of coinage is tied quite closely with the politics of Greek society itself, especially Athens. Third, Greek (Athenian) coinage came to dominate international trade in the Aegean. Finally, a number of important Greek authors reflected on these economic developments. The philosophers Aristotle and Xenophon (or their tradents) composed philosophical ethical reflections on the place of coinage and economics in the society. Other genres, reflected in works such as Herodotus’ Histories and Aristophanes’ Ploutos, also show how members of the Greek cultures were impacted. However, in order to address this subject, it is important to note the long division in scholarship between classical studies and ancient Near Eastern studies that has been in place for generations for the investigation of the history of the Eastern Mediterranean prior to Alexander’s conquest of the Near East. Turning to economic history, the most prominent statement of this division occurs in the work of Moses Finley, from which I include a large excerpt

214

Astola, “On the Road: Judean Royal Merchants in Babylonia.” The text is OECT 10 (Ash. 1878.005). Cf. Yigal Bloch, “Judeans in Sippar and Susa during the First Century of the Babylonian Exile: Assimilation and Perseverance under NeoBabylonian and Achaemenid Rule,” JANEH 1 (2014): 119–72. 215

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What matters is the way in which the two civilizations (or complexes of cultures) diverge fundamentally at every point, in their social structures, in their power structures (both internally and externally), in the relationship between the power structure and religion, in the presence or absence of the scribe as a pivotal figure. … The Near Eastern economies were dominated by large palace- or temple-complexes, who owned the greater part of the arable, virtually monopolized anything that can be called “industrial production” as well as foreign trade (which includes inter-city trade, not merely trade with foreign parts), and organized the economic, military, political and religious life of the society through a single complicated, bureaucratic, record-keeping operation for which the word “rationing”, taken very broadly, is a good one-word description as I can think of. None of this is relevant to the Graeco-Roman world until the conquests of Alexander the Great and later of the Romans incorporated large Near Eastern territories. … I do not wish to over-simplify. There were private holdings of land in the Near East, privately worked; there were “independent” craftsmen and pedlars in the towns. Our evidence does not permit quantification, but I do not believe it is possible to elevate these people to the prevailing pattern of economy, whereas the Graeco-Roman world was essentially and precisely one of private ownership, whether of a few acres or of the enormous domains of Roman senators and emperors, a world of private trade, private manufacture.216

The position laid out in this long quotation has proved foundational in providing one more justification for maintaining the wide-reaching separation between ancient Near Eastern studies and Classics. While contact between these scholarly disciplines has increased, the distance between them generally remains quite large. What Finley lays out is the fundamental difference that he sees between the two economic systems. He contends that even if they did contain some similarities on the surface (peddlers, craftsmen, and private holdings), these were merely inconsequential prima facie kinds of similarities. The “command economies of the oriental despots” had nothing to do with the “western democratically-oriented privately held landowners.” Regardless of the truth value of Finley’s sketch (which especially the Babylonian data calls into question), this bifurcation has made it difficult to draw out the (non-combat-related) interactions and economic dealings between these groups. One might simply say that the memories of Homer’s Troy still haunt academic scholarship. Yet the two cultures’ considerable interactions during the Classical period open consideration for more discussion. In broad strokes, when Greece emerged from its dark age, what resulted was a period of the increased importance of the market, coinage, and other economic factors. After experiencing the general collapse of the late Bronze Age around the twelfth century, the Greek world entered a long period of decline. The general economic state of Greeks around 800 was significantly below their contemporaries in the ancient Near East. However, over the course of the subsequent 500 years, something of an economic miracle occurring, such that the Greeks became some of the richest societies in the ancient world by 300 216 Moses I. Finley, The Ancient Economy, 2d ed. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1999), 28–29, italics mine.

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BCE.217 Most of Greek improvement can be seen as simply catching up with the rest of the Mediterranean and Near Eastern world: the Greeks had fallen into a deeper trough in terms of economic production. The best evidence for this growth lies in the increase of housing sizes, which grew five to tenfold over the course of this 500 year period.218 Generally speaking, the rate of growth in Greece is comparable to that of sixteenth-century Holland and other fast developing pre-modern economies. In other words, in order to find more exponential growth, one must turn to the modern era. By the beginning of the eighth century, a period of economic development was well underway, even before the onset of coinage. For example, Howgego argues that from around 700 to 500 B.C.E, “At the economic level the most significant aspect of the transformation of the polis was the growth in the extent of market exchange (‘commoditization’).”219 Of central importance in this development was the change in social meanings: social standing became increasingly defined in terms of wealth rather than from riches out of gift exchange by nobles to redefinitions of social standing.220 Though not a complete change in economics from gift exchange for the enhancement of status (honor) to market exchange to increase monetary wealth, a considerable shift in values took place. Noble birth was still important, but non-agricultural occupations and types of wealth increased.221 In other words, economics was an important domain for the changes taking place in the Greek world at this time. It is important to note, here, however, given that coinage begins to arise in the second half of the sixth century, such development did not require coinage. Much discussion within classical studies about this phenomenal growth circles around the relationship between growth, the development (or proliferation) of coinage, and the development of democracy. While numerous non-democratic cities developed coinage, Sparta – the quintessential example of an oligarchy – did not. Athens, as Sparta’s democratic counterpart, did, and there are more sources from Athens than anywhere else, thus making it an important focus for discussion. A further node of discussion revolves around the role played by the Athenian domination of the Delian league. Let me first consider the role of democracy for Athenian economics and coinage. Athenian coinage did not develop in lock step with the rise of democracy in the city. The earliest coins (the Wappenmünzen), which preceded the 217

Ian Morris, “Economic Growth in Ancient Greece,” Journal of Institutional and Theoretical Economics 160 (2004): 709–42. 218 Ibid., 720. Some other indicators, such as paleopathological examinations of skeletons do not show much improvement, however. 219 Howgego, Ancient History from Coins, 16. 220 Ibid., 17. 221 Darel Tai Engen, Honor and Profit: Athenian Trade Policy and the Economy and Society of Greece, 415-307 B.C.E. (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2010), 38–41.

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well-known Owls, reflect the interests of various aristocratic families.222 Then, somewhere around 510 BCE, the Owls emerge and remain largely unchanged as the Athenian coins for two centuries. Remarkably, their distribution even extends to Palestine. Hoards have turned up coins in both large and fractural sizes, indicating their use for both long-distance and everyday trade. This conclusion again contrasts with earlier contentions of coinage as developing gradually from long-distance to local usage. As far as internal Athenian use, democracy facilitated the proliferation of coinage through the regular state payments to citizens for their services. Money came into the hands of the lower classes in payment for serving on juries, as magistrates, and in the military.223 Nothing of this sort occurred in Sparta, for example, where each hoplite armed himself as a matter of honor. Discussions of broader trade and imperial intentions in the Greek world also place Athens as the central focus. On one hand, Athens developed a major harbor at Piraeus. In doing so, Athens became a major trade destination, in part out of necessity. By no later than the middle of the fifth century, Athens was no longer able to feed its population, and was thus dependent on foreign imports. This situation resulted in Athens trading and engaging in war to secure its food supply.224 Through its silver mines at Laurium, Athens had acquired a source of specie. It was able to develop this silver to its advantage, using it to procure grain through purchase, rather than only through self-sustenance and military exploit, though these latter means also played important roles. The combination of the harbor and silver also led to the increase of state income through harbor and trade taxes. Also, several political-military events influenced the proliferation of coinage in Athens and the city-states allied with it. Athens grew in political strength in the aftermath of the Battle of Marathon (490 BCE), where Athens and its allies had defeated the Persian force. Athens built a large navy, paid for with silver from the Laurium mines, a development that brought even more coinage into circulation. The Delian League (founded in 478 BCE), itself formed to defend Greece from further Persian invasion, also contributed to monetization and economic growth in Athens. While several city-states besides Athens contributed ships and crews to the common defense league, most member citystates instead paid tribute, giving Athens the responsibility to build and equip the navy. This development meant that poorer Athenians could take on paid work as soldiers and shipbuilders. Having a navy at its disposal also led to the 222 Jeremy Trevet, “Coinage and Democracy at Athens,” in Money and Its Uses in the Ancient Greek World, ed. A. Meadows and K. Shipton (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 26. 223 Ibid., 24. 224 Engen, Honor and Profit, 54–55. Lyttkens places it earlier, around 500: “Institutions, Taxation, and Market Relationships in Ancient Athens,” Journal of Institutional Economics 6 (2010): 515.

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acquisition of overseas territories that further enriched the city.225 Finally, after coming to dominate the Delian League more completely, Athens issued the “Coinage Decree,” which permitted only Athenian coins as payment (450– 414).226 While the success of this decree has not been detected in the numismatic record, it is still generally accepted as historical accurate in classical scholarship.227 If this is the case, then it is a strong example of a political use of coinage, rather than simply an economic one. It also appears to be a step that could only take place within a unified structure of power. Yet the use of one set of coinage and one set of weights could only accelerate the pace of trade within the monetary regime. Looking beyond the internal functioning of the Athenian dominated world itself, considerable trade also took place between Athens and the Persian dominated world. By leaving aside categories of Kulturkampf between Persia and Greece, unobtrusive yet very important evidence of economic exchange and overlap provides helpful insights for the Persian-period Levant. Wares from the Persian Empire were in high demand in the generations after the Battle of Marathon, such as particular coins (gold darics and Cilician staters), glass, textiles, Chinese silk, Indian cotton with their graphic motifs, slaves, and literary texts. Furthermore, even during periods of war, the border regions maintained trade connections, as seen in finds from Gordium and Daskyleion in Phrygia of Asia Minor. In presenting this body of evidence, Wiesehöfer disputes the notion of an “Iron Curtain” of sorts between the spheres of influence.228 He notes, for example, that there was nothing in the way of a “trade embargo” following 480 BCE, when the Delian League was formed and the battle lines were drawn. Moving into the sphere of Greek contacts with the Levant and Egypt, Greek trading prowess is on display in a customs list from Elephantine (TADAE C 3.7), which documents the assessment of duties on Ionian ships in the Egyptian port. This evidence does not imply that politics could not influence economics. One example of political interference in the economic realm is the special situation between Athens and Sidon during the reign of Abd-

225

14.

226

Lyttkens, “Institutions, Taxation, and Market Relationships in Ancient Athens,” 513–

Eckhardt, “Geld, Macht, Sinn,” 15. Ian Morris, “The Greater Athenian State,” in The Dynamics of Ancient Empires: State Power from Assyria to Byzantium, ed. I. Morris and W. Scheidel, Oxford studies in early empires (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 147–48. 228 Josef Wiesehöfer, “‘Persien, der faszinierende Feind der Griechen’: Güteraustausch und Kulturtransfer in achaimendischer Zeit,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction: Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002, ed. R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, OeO 6 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 2004), 301–2. 227

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Ashtart I (Straton) (366–360 BCE), when Sidonians were granted tax exemptions in Athens – and this in spite of the Sidonian position as a Persian-ruled city.229 Having noted several of the economic developments in relation to political developments, coinage and trade, numerous Greek literary texts also provide insight into the marks these emerging economic realities made on Greek thinking and social relations. As a whole, a general trend emerges in Greek reflections and thinking about the concept of value, as I have already hinted at above. From the Homeric times into the Classical period, honor (τιμή) played a key role in the value structure of the Greek aristocracy. This was a value that could not be bought, per se, but could only be won, displayed, or conferred.230 For example, success in battle was rewarded with tripods and other prizes. In the Iliad, Achilles should rejoin the battle in order to win gifts (Il. 9. 602–5); likewise, Agamemnon tries to make amends with Achilles, also through particular, non-replaceable gifts. (Il. 9. 116–20).231 Nonetheless, the central struggle for Achilles in the epic has little to do with an economization of value. Rather, his conflict is between honor in life (τιμή) and honor/glory in death (κλεος). Examples of this understanding of value also occur in Greek depictions of the Persians, as I have noted above. With time however, supported both by the increase in the number of hoards recovered and by references in texts, honor is pushed out of the spotlight by monetary wealth. Seaford remarks, “But the first unequivocal evidence for money … seems to be provided by the legislation of Solon.”232 This appearance is significant because it indicates the importance of state involvement for the development of a monetized economy or monetized thinking. By having a guaranteeing authority of the people (citizens) behind the coins, a change in thinking combines concrete and political events, resulting in a commoditization of the Greek aristocratic gift society. Whether a tripod won in an athletic contest or some other symbolically laden treasure, even these could be bought for a certain number of coins. And in Greece – unlike Babylonia – these coins also came to be accepted based on their mark, not on their weight and purity. This conclusion is evident in the fact that Athenian coins were worth less as silver (use value) than they were as coins (token value), making it imperative to have some kind of accepted external guarantor or agreed upon token value.233 As a result of this communally backed and accepted token money, the items bought with it were transformed, as were the buyers. All items that had earlier 229 Vadim S. Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia: Being a Phoenician, Negotiating Empires, Bible World (London: Equinox, 2010), 64. 230 Engen, Honor and Profit, 38. 231 Sitta von Reden, Exchange in Ancient Greece (London: Duckworth, 1995), 18–19. 232 Seaford, Money and the Early Greek Mind, 90. The reference to Solon is 13.71. 233 Ibid., 145:“Confidence then is created by a combination of factors – quality, quantity, stamp, state authority.”

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represented honor through their individuality as gifts (e.g., tripods) could now be traded for coinage. The gifts lost their uniqueness. As a corollary, the buyers and sellers also lost their uniqueness, and social status became a matter of price.234 In keeping with this economizing of social status, Aristotle notes the following perspective for many Greeks at the time of his writing in the fourth century, “People often consider wealth [πλοῦτος] to consist of plenty of coin [νομἰσματος πληθῦς].”235 Aristotle generally takes a negative view of coinage. He points out, quoting Solon, that one can never have enough money, while other commodities or items can only be consumed to a certain point, and having more of them is superfluous. Aristophanes makes this point clear in his play Ploutos “Wealth” (193–97): one becomes satiated at some point with everything else, such as soup, bread, sex, or music. But one can always increase one’s holdings of money. Following this line of thinking, Xenophon’s Oeconomicus attempts to redefine wealth outside of the economic sphere. He reacts against the notion that the heaping up of property is in and of itself “wealth.” He depicts a conversation between Socrates and Critobulus as ending with the conclusion: “Let money then, Critobulus, if a man does not know how to use it aright – let money, I say, be banished to the remote corners of the earth rather than be reckoned as wealth.”236 In conclusion, the progress experienced by the Greek economies, especially in Athens where it was coupled with democratic and imperialistic developments in the six–fifth centuries, involved a thorough integration of coinage to internal and external markets. These events also brought about the re-evaluation of notions of wealth and status. These discussions took place in the embracing and rejecting of coined money as a marker for value. Yet, as the responses from Aristotle and others show, this transformation was not complete (nor, given modern discussions, would one ever expect it to be). The changes began, notably, before the rise of coinage in the Greek world, though the adoption of coinage does seem to have spurred on the transition in the Greek context. Furthermore, my discussion has shown that external trade with Persian lands remained important for the Greek world, even in the event or aftermath of open hostilities. Interaction within the Greek world itself and its possible influence in Palestine, however, as will be discussed below, took place in large part through Phoenician mediation. In fact, just to note briefly at this point, Wenning goes 234

Ibid., 150. Pol. I 9.10 I. 1257b 8–9. Note the discussion in Schaps, The Invention of Coinage and the Monetization of Ancient Greece, 196. 236 Xenophon, Oeconomicus, Book 1 (Trans. H. G. Dakyns): http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1173/1173-h/1173-h.htm. 235

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so far as to argue that the only clear presence of Greeks in Palestine during the Persian period was in the form of mercenary soldiers. Yet their presence actually extends back to the preexilic royal bodyguards of the ‫ כרתי‬and ‫ פלתי‬known from, i.a. 2 Sam 8:18. They were also present in Egypt by the middle of the seventh century. The presence of mercenaries, however, is of a temporary and fleeting sort, not the kind that generally contributes to deep cultural influence.237 The next section will, therefore, turn to discussion of the mediating entities – the Phoenicians. 4.3.6. The Phoenician City-States Moving across the Aegean to the other major seafaring peoples, the Phoenician city-states – Tyre, Sidon, Byblos, and Arwad – gained their prominence as long-distance traders even before the rise of the great first millennium empires in Mesopotamia, as displayed in the Story of Wen-Amun (1100 BCE) and perhaps also in 1 Kgs 5:23, which depict trade relations between the palaces of Egypt and Byblos in the former and Tyre and Solomon in the second. They played an important role in the economic development of the Eastern and Western Mediterranean from the Neo-Assyrian period into the Persian period and beyond. Their reputation was one of the traders par excellence, and they were known as such in both the biblical and Greek sources. Archaeology attests that not only their cedars, but also their wine and olives are attested in Egypt and throughout the Mediterranean by remains of Phoenician transit amphorae.238 Finally, in the Persian period, they also became quite present along the southern Levantine coastline. Tyre and Sidon were granted trading rights and territory along the Philistine coast, surely a boon to the economies of the city-states themselves. This influence, as shown below, worked its way into the Judean and Samarian highlands in various ways. Their established role as traders need not be recounted here in detail.239 There are, however, some insights that become important with regard to developing economic conceptions of the divine and community. As the quintessential traders, the Phoenicians received the designation as boundary crossers that could shift between imperial allegiance, rebellion, and independence. Their prominence and “added value” in the various imperial systems resulted, for example, in Tyre’s retention of some independence from the Neo-Assyrian

237 Robert Wenning, “Griechische Einfluss auf Palästina in vorhellenischer Zeit,” in Die Griechen und das antike Israel: Interdisziplinäre Studien zur Religions- und Kulturgeschichte des Heiligen Landes, ed. S. Alkier and M. Witte, OBO 201 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 2004), 31–32. 238 Glenn Markoe, Phoenicians (University of California Press, 2000), 94. 239 Cf., i.e. Maria Eugenia Aubet, The Phoenicians and the West: Politics, Colonies and Trade, trans. M. Turton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).

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Empire while other kingdoms were incorporated as territories.240 On the other hand, their liminality led to a certain ostracism. For example, Summer opines on their perception in the Greek world: Die Griechen begegneten in den Phönikern offensichtlich Händlern, die beim Warentausch andere Prioritäten setzten und nach anderem Regelwerk operierten. Ihr Augenmerk scheint weniger auf die sozialen Implikationen des Tauschs gerichtet als auf den Tausch selbst. Ihr Streben nach Gewinnmaximierung ist, wenigstens aus dem Blickwinkel der Griechen, bar jeder Ethik.241

They were, then, perceived to function outside the social boundaries, and first and foremost to exhibit interest in profit. Reciprocity, in other words, was not the way these traders functioned. This same picture for the city-states obtains during the Achaemenid period as well: they were left to pursue their trading goals, provided that trading with Athens, for example, did not develop into actions that diminished Persian tax receipts.242 In addition to trade, the second – and related – role of the Phoenician cities in the Persian system was to provide the ships, sailors, and expertise for the Persian navy. Especially Sidon appears intricately involved in Persian naval battles with the Greeks. Surprisingly, even given the devastating defeats such as Salamis in 480 BCE, the Sidonian economy (and to a lesser extent those of the other city-states) prospered due to the stability provided by the Persian Empire. One example of this stability is the continuation of the Phoenician dynasties throughout the period. The scant archaeological record points to considerable continuity from the demise of the Babylonian and rise of the Persian Empire, and right through the Persian period.243 It is also worth noting that the Phoenician cities rarely rebelled against their Persian overlords and rarely experienced invasion from outside. Tyre was reportedly captured by Evagoras (early fourth century), but the Persians restored their hegemony. Sidon was apparently a loyal vassal until the Tennes rebellion (340s), which proved disastrous.244 However, this event occurred towards the end of Persian rule. As a result, the overarching picture indicates that the maintenance of the integrity of their own territories contributed greatly to economic flourishing.245 Scholars have often noted the overwhelming presence of Phoenician products and pottery in the southern Levantine cities during the Persian period. 240

Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 125. Sommer, “Die Peripherie als Zentrum,” 236. 242 Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 171. 243 Ibid., 126. 244 Ibid., 38. 245 Josette Elayi, Economie des cités phéniciennes sous l’Empire perse (Napoli: IUO, 1990), 63–69, paints a picture of economic crisis, but her evidence is actually from other regions. She notes that historical and archaeological evidence such as Tyre’s ability to withstand Alexander for seven years, the quick rebuilding of Sidon after it was burned following the Tennes Rebellion, and numerous cut marble sarcophogoi (ibid., 72–73). 241

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Even the Greek penetration into Palestine is now viewed as having occurred through active Phoenician mediation. For example, Wenning notes that instead of the “Hellenization” of Palestine in the Persian period, one should speak of Phoenicization (Phönizierung) as a more precise description. What took place was the process of importing Greek goods and artistic tastes into Palestine by Phoenician merchants.246 Furthermore, at least in some coastal cities such as Ashkelon, it seems that Phoenician culture practically replaced the Philistines.247 The support for Phoenician influence further south also appears on Eshmunazar II's sarcophagus (KAI 14, l. 19), which dates to circa 500 BCE and speaks of Dor and Joppa being given by the Great King, (’dn hmlkm), on which I will comment below. At this point it suffices to note the continued merchant traditions of the Phoenician city-states. They branched out from Cyprus to Carthage, Sardinia, Sicily, and Spain. While they were in fierce competition with the Greeks for supremacy of the seas – a competition they generally lost during this era – their position as mediators of goods and culture was unrivaled. With regard to coinage, the Phoenicians appear to have long been content to continue using a system of weighed metals and other such means (barter) for trade transactions.248 Their trade activities had been established long before the discovery of coinage, and, therefore, likely did not deem coinage necessary for the continuation of their practices.249 Upon developing their own issues, however, these coins went on to provide important influences on the Samaritan and Yehud issues. The coinage of the Phoenician city-states has received considerable attention in recent years. “Phoenicians developed minting of coinage relatively late, at least later than the Lydians and the Greeks. Sometime in the middle of the fifth century BCE, four cities abandoned the use of weights as monetary units and started minting coinage: Byblos (ca. 460 BCE), Tyre (ca. 450 BCE), Sidon (ca. 440 BCE), and Arwad (ca. 430 BCE).”250 While the cities did not have a unified and shared policy on coinage, they were all subject to the Persian overlords. Several other similarities prevail: maritime iconography, the use of silver and bronze but never gold, generally the same (“Phoenician”) weight standard, and – as seen in the location of hoards – primarily usage in

246 Wenning, “Griechische Einfluss auf Palästina in vorhellenischer Zeit,” 58; Cited in Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 110. 247 Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 199. 248 Josette Elayi and Alain G. Elayi, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre in the Persian Period (5th-4th Cent. BCE), OLA 188 Studia Phoenicia 20 (Leuven: Peeters, 2009), 328. 249 Schaps, The Invention of Coinage and the Monetization of Ancient Greece, 106, 196. 250 Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 73.

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intraregional trade.251 Generally speaking, the Phoenicians’ reliance on trade brought them into close contact with the Greeks and Lydians of Asia Minor and elsewhere (especially Cyprus),252 which led to the introduction of their own coins, perhaps at a time when Greek coin production was at an ebb.253 The metal, primarily silver, Elayi suggests came from melting down imported Greek tetradrachms.254 While Byblos may have been the first city-state to introduce coinage, Sidon and Tyre were the leading cities of the Persian period. It is difficult to explain Byblos’ primacy in this regard, other than to remark that it seems, therefore, to have kept up its international trade during the middle of the fifth century and maintained close connections with Greeks. Sidon was the dominant city for much of the Persian period, and its importance can be traced in the adoption by other Levantine cities of its monetary iconography. Its coin issues consistently portrayed a ship on the obverse: sometimes with triangular or partially furled sails.255 The reverse displayed clear connections to imperial Persian images: first an archer, much like the dominant portrayal of the Persian king in imperial iconography and coinage. Later issues depict a rider and driver in horse-drawn chariot, and then the same scene with the addition of an ibex and the initials of the king who issued the coins. This was followed by the depiction of a chariot scene where the chariot is followed by person in Egyptian garb and headgear, and subsequent issues had a person in Asiatic or Greek clothing. In the first half of the fourth century more diversity appeared, including an archer and upright lion. These motifs reveal the strong influence of Persian imperial images, more prevalent here than anywhere else in Phoenicia. Perhaps Sidon chose to follow Persian ideological projections in order to curry favor with their overlords, but basing such a conclusion merely on the coin imagery is quite tenuous.256 If Sidon seemed to be the conveyer (direct or indirect) of Persian iconography and ideology in the region, Tyrian coinage evinces closer connections to Greek traditions. The first known coins are the fleur-de-coin Tyrian issues in various hoards from about 450 BCE The iconography depicted an owl with an Egyptian crook and flail on the obverse, while the reverse began with the portrayal of a dolphin, and later moved to include an attacking figure riding on a winged seahorse, often identified as Milqart.257 There is, then, a panoply of 251

Ibid., 74. He notes (ibid., 85), “Of all the currencies struck in Phoenician city-states, only those of Tyre and Sidon enjoyed wide circulation in the Levant, with several samples found even in Anatolia, Persia, and Egypt.” 252 Elayi and Elayi, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre, 330. 253 Schaps, The Invention of Coinage and the Monetization of Ancient Greece, 106. 254 Elayi and Elayi, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre, 330. 255 Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 82–83. 256 Ibid., 86. 257 Elayi and Elayi, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre, 392.

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Greek, Egyptian, and local Phoenician traditions, a proper combination for the international nature of Phoenicia in this period and Tyre’s enduring connections with Egypt. There also may have been a closer relationship between Athens and Tyre. This is supported not only on the basis of the owl iconography – which could be of the competitive sort, but also because of the similar weight standard towards the middle of the fourth century.258 The reasons for the development of individual coinage in the various Phoenician city-states have not been settled. These issues do not appear to have been used widely outside of Phoenicia, and where they have been found, they are still in the minority. Greek coins – if coinage and not weighed silver or barter were used – dominated Phoenician international trade. Above I mentioned the possibility that they developed at a time of an ebb in Athenian issues. On the other hand, were there internal reasons for the development of coinage in Phoenicia that paralleled the external trade with Lydia and Greece? Elayi and Elayi argue that the reason is to be found in the rebuilding of the navies in the aftermath of defeat at the hands of the Greeks, in which coinage allowed the cities to exploit the difference between the (lower) exchange value of the silver compared to the (higher) exchange value attributed to the coins. This motivation would account best for Sidon, as leader of the navy.259 This possibility is supported by the fact that it is unlikely that minting developed in order to pay tribute to the Persians, since weighing metal continued to dominate the parts of the Persian Empire further afield from Greek influence. Jigoulov instead contends “… the production of coinage was meant to maintain the interests of each independent state and was done for the support of local trade first and foremost.”260 Yet one might press this use of the world “local”: Byblian coinage appears to have been confined to its own territory, but this was not necessarily the case for Sidon. Also much Phoenician trade was oriented regionally as well as internationally.261 Political concerns likely played an important role in addition to – or perhaps even more than – economic ones. Phoenician rulers and merchants may certainly have welcomed the ease presented by counting coins rather than weighing bullion; Phoenician rulers may have recognized the potential for profit in setting a higher value for coins than their weight as bullion warranted. However, the desire to respond to the advancement of coinage from their Greek competitors could also have pushed the Phoenician cities to mint coins their own. This would suggest simple patriotism. What conclusions can be drawn from the Phoenician evidence for an understanding of Persian monetary and economic policy and its possible implications 258

Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 99; Elayi and Elayi, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre, 373. 259 Elayi and Elayi, The Coinage of the Phoenician City of Tyre, 332–34. cf. Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 108–10. 260 Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 107. 261 Elayi, Economie des cités phéniciennes sous l’Empire perse, 77.

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for Yehud and Judean experience? First, the divergent iconographic portrayals, containing especially Greek but also royal Persian and local motifs, highlight the freedom accorded to the cities to support their individual economic or social interests. The clash in imagery between especially Sidon and Tyre demonstrates the hands-off approach to the promulgation of royal Persian authority through coinage: Sidon issued numerous Persian motifs, thereby affirming and furthering the imperial image, while Tyre instead oriented its coins towards Athens. One may conclude from this evidence that the Persian authorities did not seem to consider this battle to control the perpetuation of images worth controlling from the upper echelons of the empire, or at least not primary in the relationship with the leaders of Tyre. A contrary conclusion that Persian control was simply too weak to exert control over the coin imagery seems unlikely: the vastness of the Persian Empire itself points in a different direction, and coinage did not arise at a time of upheaval in the Syrian region. It is better to reason that the Persian authorities simply sought to rule differently and that Persian hegemony took different forms. 4.3.7. The Philistine Coast This section moves a step closer to Yehud, turning the focus to Yehud’s direct neighbors to the west. The strip of flatland stretching from the Mediterranean coast to the hills of the Shephelah – its widest point in Gaza is 40 km – served as the overland and sea gateway to the southern Levant. The Via Maris runs north-south from Lebanon to the Egyptian border, while several important port cities dotted the coast during the Persian period. After the widespread destruction by the Babylonians, the region began to grow again early in the Achaemenid rule, apparently with official support or sanction.262 Written sources provide some data on this region. The Persians granted Tyre and Sidon control over the port cities, allowing the Phoenicians to increase their maritime trade in the region and giving them better access to Egypt. Eshmunazar II’s sarcophagus (KAI 14), mentioned above, records the gifts of Dor and Joppa to Sidon either at the beginning of Persian hegemony in the Levant in the late sixth century (539–520 BCE), or quite early in the fifth century.263 The Greek text of Pseudo-Scylax (Per. 104) also calls Dor a Sidonian town (and Ashkelon a Tyrian one), providing more historical evidence for this development. Tal suggests that alternating control of the southern coast (other than Gaza) was accorded Tyre and Sidon, reflecting the intentions of the

262 O. Tal, “Some Remarks on the Coastal Plain of Palestine under Achaemenid Rule– An Archaeological Synopsis,” Persika 6 (2005): 86. 263 For diverging opinions on the date of the inscription, cf. Josette Elayi, “La chronologie de la dynastie sidonienne d’’Eshmun‘azor,” Transeu 27 (2004): 9–27; Jigoulov, The Social History of Achaemenid Phoenicia, 52.

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Achaemenid leadership to foster economic competition between the cities in such a way that would benefit the empire.264 Beginning in the north, Akko (Acre) played an important role early on and throughout the Persian period. It first served as a military base in Cambyses’ attack on Egypt in ca. 527 BCE, and it seems to have served in this capacity a further ten times before Alexander’s conquest, pointing to its importance as a base. This repeated military use would have carried significant economic ramifications. Furthermore, Pharaoh Achoris’s name appears on an altar base from the early fourth century, indicating possible Egyptian advances this far north in Palestine, though its military role does not necessarily imply more than a lightning attack to take this one city. And, given its status as a military base, it made a logical goal for an Egyptian attack. Broadly speaking, the frequent revolts in Egypt and the Persian responses to them logically would have influenced the politics and economics of this region greatly. These hostilities begin already in the 480s (Herodotus 7.1, 4, 7, 89), and then again in circa 464–54 BCE (Herodotus 3.12, 15; 7.7; Thucydides 1.104, 110). Greek sources report Egyptian rebellion coinciding with Evagoras of Cyprus, who was supported by Athens and Egypt around the turn of the fourth century into the first decades of the century. Isocrates (Paneg. 161) reports of Evagoras’ capture of Tyre, which could have strongly impacted Tyrian holdings further south. However, contra especially the characterization of Diodorus (15.2.3–4), who depicts a united rebellion of various groups from Asia Minor on south into Syria-Palestine. Briant notes that the Persians’ ability to prepare and carry out a military expedition in 385–384 BCE against Egypt instead suggests that Palestine was quiet at this time, thus calling Diodorus’ reliability into question.265 Some ancient sources also posit a so-called “Great Revolt of the Satraps” from ca. 366–360/58 BCE including Syria, Egypt, Asia Minor, Phoenicia, and the coastal cities.266 Following the lead of these sources, it is possible to view this as an indication of the slow disintegration of the Persian Empire.267 Briant, however, sees these as isolated and limited uprisings that should not be taken to have greatly affected the stability or peace of Persian hegemony. He does note, however, that Egypt did have the strength to make an incursion into Palestine under the leadership of Tachos in 359 BCE, which must have had some effect on the concrete and conceptual control exercised by Persia. Yet the strongest support for Briant’s view is that the succession from Artaxerxes II to Ochus in 359 BCE did not seriously hinder the Persian effort. In fact, the revolts were dealt with quickly at that point in spite of the transition

264

Tal, “Some Remarks on the Coastal Plain of Palestine,” 92. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 650–51. 266 Trogus Pompeius, Prol. 10 and Polyaenus 7.21.3 and Diodorus 15.93.1. 267 This is the view of Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 358–59. 265

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of the realm’s leadership.268 Artaxerxes III finally succeeded in re-conquering Egypt in 343 BCE. And throughout all of these military expeditions to and from Egypt, the Philistine coastland was the land gateway to Egypt. Archaeological remains from the Persian period in this region stand in stark contrast to the paucity of remains from the Judean highlands. Planned urban settlements in the coastal plain include Tell Abu Hawam and Shikmona, administered by Tyre, and Tel Megadim, all near modern Haifa. Further south were Dor, then Jaffa, Yavneh-Yam, Ashdod, Ashkelon, and Gaza. Some examples of the comparative affluence of this region (along with the Galilee) are exhibited in the rich collections of Attic, and at times Eastern Greek and Corinthian pottery, which are absent from the highlands.269 Furthermore, the material culture evinces deep penetration by Phoenician goods, either suggesting actual colonialization, or perhaps more likely, the diffusion of Phoenician culture.270 In addition to these urban settlements, the hinterland consisted of a dense network supporting rural farmsteads and villages.271 According to Stern, Dor was the most important city in the northern section, being a provincial capital of the region from Shikmona to roughly Jaffa.272 While this claim to political importance has not yet been confirmed by the archaeological finds, the commercial and economic prominence of the city is clear.273 The region appears generally, at least according to the archaeology, under the control of Phoenicians: the “ashlar-pier” building construction, cultic objects from domestic buildings, Phoenician ostraca, Sidonian coins, and other finds point to a close connection specifically to Sidon, the leading Phoenician city. The links to the broader Eastern Mediterranean appear strong, given the city’s modified Hippodromian plan, the significant collection of Greek pottery, and apotropaic terracotta gorgoneia. Important to note is the rapid rise of Dor only in the first half of the fifth century after a long break, and not before, long after the Persians moved into the region. Furthermore, there are no archaeological indications of destruction.274 268

Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 997. Ephraim Stern, “The Archaeology of Persian Palestine,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism, ed. W. D. Davies and L. Finkelstein, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 1:99. 270 Grabbe, A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period: Vol 1: The Persian Period, 42. 271 Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 417, on Ashdod; Tal, “Some Remarks on the Coastal Plain of Palestine,” 75, on the organization of the region according to Central Place Theory." 272 Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 383–98. 273 Jessica L. Nitschke, S. Rebecca Martin, and Yiftah Shalev, “Between Carmel and the Sea – Tel Dor: The Late Periods,” NEA 74 (2011): 141. 274 Finally, there is the possible mention of Dor as “Doros” in the Carian section of the Athenian tribute list from 454 BCE The challenge with interpreting this mention is the date comes quite early when compared with the proposed rebuilding date of the city. Why would 269

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The coastland south of Jaffa is split by Stern into two sections.275 The prominent cities of the northern section were Ashdod and Ashkelon.276 Unlike Dor, Ashkelon was rebuilt early in the Persian period, after the Babylonian destruction. Five Persian period phases are identified, with the city having burned several times. The most important city in the southern section was Gaza, especially according to Greek sources (Herodotus 3.5; Diodorus 17.48.7; Arrian 2.25.4; 2.26–27). All three show strong Phoenician influence – especially from Tyre in Ashkelon, while Arabian influence is also marked in the Gaza region. Gaza was supposedly the largest, and it allegedly served as the port destination for spices from Arabia. In both areas significant Phoenician and secondarily also Greek and Cypriot remains appear in the material culture, implying either presence of these ethnicities or at least significant trade.277 A further topic of importance that arises from the remains of Tell Jemmeh in the Gaza region is the granaries and larger rooms to stockpile provisions. These buildings could easily have served a supporting role for Persian military efforts against Egypt and are usually placed around the turn of the fourth century.278 The same purpose is proposed for the military installations at Tell-elḤesi, the Ashdod fort (29 sq. m., just north of the city), and a number of sites in Idumea to be discussed below.279 These finds are generally brought into discussion with the loss of Egypt and the attempts to reconquer it during the first half of the fourth century. Given the large military presence in this new border region, significant political and economic developments seem to have occurred. One such development was the “Philistine” or “Philisto-Arabian” coins, which are generally thought to have begun around 400 BCE, though the most thorough investigation of them by Gitler and Tal instead places the earliest locally minted coins in the second half of the fifth century.280 These independ-

a tiny insignificant city be listed? Or is it Dor’s hyperbolic rise to prominence in the trading circles of the Eastern Mediterrannean what made it worth including on the list? Cf. Wenning, “Griechische Einfluss Auf Palästina in Vorhellenischer Zeit,” 39, who does not accept the connection to Palestinian Dor. Wenning does not accept the connection to Palestinian Dor. 275 Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 407–22. 276 John W. Betlyon, “A People Transformed: Palestine in the Persian Period,” NEA 68 (2005): 16. 277 Grabbe, A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period: Vol 1: The Persian Period, 42. 278 Betlyon, “A People Transformed,” 11. 279 Ibid., 12–17. 280 Haim Gitler and Oren Tal, The Coinage of Philistia of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BC: A Study of the Earliest Coins of Palestine, Collezioni numismatiche 6 (Milano: Edizioni Ennerre, 2006), 14. Their argument is that the Philistine coins reflect Athenian coins that come from the second half of the fifth century, so it is best to place the Athenian-style issues from Philistine in this era as well. If minting were only to have begun in the fourth century

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ent issues, from Ashdod, Ashkelon, and Gaza, then come to a close when Alexander conquered the area in 332.281 The earliest issues according to Gitler and Tal are Athenian-style Athena and owl issues. The Greek influence is readily apparent for the coins issued in Gaza, which depict Athena with helmet and the seated owl, sometimes also the Greek name athe. Coins appear with designations for the three cities Gaza (‘z’, ‘z, or ‘), Ashdod (’šdd, ’š), and likely Ashkelon (’n).282 After beginning with the larger coin issues of didrachms and drachms, by the end of the fifth century the Philistine issues included smaller denominations. This evidence suggests that moneyed exchange became a more regular part of the daily experience of Philistine society, as more mundane goods would have been exchanged for coins. Yet the existence of weighed silver, either in the form of ingots or (cut) coins, throughout the period in Philistia points to the continuation bullion being used as a means of exchange. “Money” in this sense was already part of the conceptual framework of Philistine exchange far earlier. The Philistine minting authorities eventually move to develop their own iconography, which reflects influences from a wider number of sources – Anatolian, Phoenician, and Egyptian. While Mildenberg contends that Persian motifs are generally absent (though through Sidon some minor Persian influence can be detected),283 there are more subtle connections. In fact, two Achaemenid motifs are present in these coins, but absent on those from Judea, Samaria, and in the seals from Wadi-Daliyeh: the hybrid head, the double-protome.284 Gitler attributes these uses of these motifs to an increased Persian presence around 380 BCE in Gaza, as a strategic city on the Egyptian border. Scholars hypothesize various economic and also political reasons for the introduction of local coinage – to fund the Phoenician navy, to make up for a decline in Greek issues, or to demonstrate some newly acquired though limited autonomy within the Persian hegemony. While Tal correctly notes that there was no precise economic need for coinage – weighed silver has served the region well for centuries, his assumption that coins were a tool of propaganda is

in Philistia, then one would expect the Philistine coins to reflect the influence of later Athenian issues as well. Such a conclusion assumes the rapid diffusion of Athenian coins during the latter half of the fifth century in Philistia. 281 Mildenberg, “Über die Münzbildnisse in Palästina und Nordwestarabien zur Perserzeit,” 381. 282 Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 565. 283 Mildenberg, “Über die Münzbildnisse in Palästina und Nordwestarabien zur Perserzeit,” 384. 284 Haim Gitler, “Achaemenid Motifs in the Coinage of Ashdod, Ascalon and Gaza from the Fourth Century BC,” Transeu 20 (2000): 73–87.

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also very tenuous.285 As I have suggested above, some combination of economic factors and political expression is the best hypothesis from the current dearth of data. Similarly, a certain political assertiveness on the part of the cities as well as respect for Persian hegemony remain the framework for understanding the rise of various coinages. There was a tension between assertions of independence and perhaps a reward through the political-economic enhancement of the permission to mint – if such was necessary.286 Regardless, the comparatively large number of different coin issues in Philistia compared to Samaria and Judah provides further indication of the economic development that took place in this region, much more so than its inland neighbors.287 Turning again to the nature of imperial hegemony, little direct Persian influence appears in the archaeological finds. Rather, the Phoenicians who administered the region brought in both the Persian and significant amounts of Western influence.288 The Western (Greek) influence appears particularly strong in the pottery, but only in certain kinds of vessels, namely drinking, serving, or storing vessels for wine. It is also significant that most of this Greek pottery was found on the coast (2/3), with 10 times more in the north than the south. Inland, again 2 to 3 times as many sites in the north than the south, (168 vessels from Samaria, 7 from Jerusalem and 32 from Mizpah). These figures display the considerable differentiation that took place between the areas where the Phoenicians were entrenched to the greatest degree (Northern coast) to those where their presence smaller (Southern inland, i.e., Yehud). This evidence is a factor worth keeping in mind for their appearance in the biblical texts of Ezra 3 and Neh 13. 4.3.8. Egypt and Elephantine Investigations in biblical studies that consider Persian period Egypt often narrow their interest to the Elephantine Judean colony, and the records from this community with their insightful comparisons for the biblical texts will be discussed below. Nonetheless, it will be helpful first to take a broader view of the evidence for the larger province/independent realm of Egypt as a whole during the Persian period. Egypt first became part of the Persian Empire through the campaign of Cambyses in 525–522 BCE. It subsequently remained an uneasy part of the empire

285 Tal, “Some Remarks on the Coastal Plain of Palestine,” 91; François de Callatay, “Review of The Coinage of Philistia of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BC, by Haim Gitler and Oren Tal” Israel Numismatic Research 1 (2006): 169. 286 This is the position of Gitler and Tal, The Coinage of Philistia of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BC, 338. 287 Ibid., 340. 288 Stern, “The Archaeology of Persian Palestine,” 110–12.

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until 402, though there were several failed attempts at rebellion. The most significant was led by Inarus (ca. 464–454).289 Then came decades of independent rule punctuated by attempts at Persian re-conquest (a minimum of three times: in the 380s, in 373, and 351). Under Tachos the Egyptians even went on the offensive against the Persian territories with the support of the Spartans.290 Due to internal turmoil in Egypt, the offensive came to an end in Phoenicia. Artaxerxes III finally succeeded in bringing Egypt back into the Persian fold in 343, where it remained until the fall of the Persian Empire a decade later. Like in Babylonia, the transition to Persian rule in Egypt evinces considerable continuity with the past pharaonic dynasties. Cambyses retained the title of “King of Upper and Lower Egypt,” also (contra Herodotus 3.25–29) maintaining at least some of the temples and cultic ceremonies.291 Xerxes followed Cambyses’ lead and continued to use the title of pharaoh (Lord of the Double Country). Stele noting royal support of temples disappear, and the only evidence of continued support is the appearance of three temples that receive revenue exemptions on the reverse of the Demotic Chronicle.292 Yet overall, continuity prevailed. Continuity also prevailed in the realm of tax imposts. One well-documented case is the customs record found at Elephantine recording international trade (see below). Briant notes What is striking [on TADAE C.3.7] is the continuity of the Egyptian system during the Persian period with the customs system known from the Saite period – thanks to several hieroglyphic seals – and from the period of Egyptian independence in the fourth century known from the Nauratis stela.293

Significant here is the continuity with earlier and with later periods directly related to commercial customs levies. While Egypt’s trade relations with Phoenicia trace back to the Bronze Age, the similarity into the fourth century shows how little immediate effect Persian rule and contact with Greece was having on such tax imposts. A similar case should be expected for the agricultural taxes, as Egypt had a long-standing and well-developed system. This most significant record of trade coming from the palimpsest written under the Ahiqar text (TADAE C 3.7), from 475 BCE, details customs, duties, and taxes paid on imports and exports.294 Yardeni’s analysis is worth repeating: 289

Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 546, disputes a further significant uprising in Egypt in 479 in the wake of the defeat at Thermopylae. 290 Cf. Diodorus 15.90.2; Xenophon, Ages. 2.28. 291 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 55–57. 292 Ibid., 60. 293 Ibid., 385. 294 Ada Yardeni, “Maritime Trade and Royal Accountancy in an Erased Customs Account from 475 B. C. E. on the Aḥiqar Scroll from Elephantine,” BASOR 293 (1994): 67– 78.

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The Ionian ships paid duty of about one fifth of the imported goods (the duty is called ‫מנדתא‬, whereas the Phoenician ships paid a tithe (‫)מעשרא‬. At the beginning of each list of items the heading says that the duty was collected and handed over (the words used are ‫ )עביד אל‬to the king's house (i.e., the royal treasury).295

This overview provides several philological and economic insights for understanding the background for Persian period accounting that are applicable to the biblical texts. First, duties were different for those merchants belonging to the Persian Empire from those coming from outside. Those from outside paid a 20% duty, while those from within the empire were assessed 10%. This tithe of the 10% provides further confirmation that “tithe” was not a word restricted to cultic taxes. The text goes on to show that this was not the only differentiation made: some Ionian ships and Phoenician ones were responsible for an additional tax (“silver of the men” ‫ )כסף גבריא‬while the other Ionian ones ( ‫ספינה‬ ‫ )רבה‬were not. Furthermore, the amounts levied on the Phoenician traders of this tax were higher than on their Ionian counterparts. The Ionian ‫ספינה רבה‬ ships needed, however, to hand over a “portion of oil” (‫)מנת משחא‬.296 Export duties were also due for the “foreign” Ionian ships, but not for the Phoenician ones. In fact, only the exports on the Ionian ships are recorded. In sum, it appears that there were clear advantages for domestic merchants. Another insight for Neh 5 is that the mndt’ or the m‛sr’ sum up gold, silver, oil, wood, and other duties. A final conclusion from this document is that long distance trade continued during the winding down of Persian-Greek hostilities following Persia’s second invasion of Greece in 480–479 BCE. Beyond the realm of foreign trade and taxation, there are a number of other significant observations. First, there is relatively little evidence of widespread monetization, in spite of the report by Herodotus (Hist. 4.166) about Aryandes, governor of Egypt under Darius, issuing coins in a silver that was purer than those by Darius. There were few or no Egyptian coins until approximately 400 BCE,297 and primarily large Greek coins have been found. The evidence points to the use of silver by weight: the extant coins – primarily Athenian tetradrachmas – exhibit cut marks and are accompanied by bars, lumps, and other forms of silver. Muhs concludes that money or silver tax payments were limited to the commercial and elite spheres, which were relatively large transactions.298 However, he also notes evidence that points to a move from in kind tax payments to temple officials for burials during the Saite period (26th Dynasty), to payments in silver during the Persian period.299 295

Ibid., 70. Ibid., 72, posits one-fifth of the oil cargo, but with a high degree of uncertainty. 297 Brian P. Muhs, Tax Receipts, Taxpayers, and Taxes in Early Ptolemaic Thebes, OIP 126 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), 6 n. 40. 298 Ibid., 4. 299 Ibid. 296

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Actual coinage does appear in the reigns of Tachos(e) and Nectanebo II. These independent pharaohs during the first half of the fourth century had coins minted bearing their names in Greek and in hieroglyphics. Tachos(e) began with gold staters, and Nectanebo introduced smaller coins.300 Similar developments continued under the renewed Persian rule of Artaxerxes III and Darius III, pointing to increased monetization.301 In the case of Egypt, given its newly won and repeatedly defended independence, political motivations certainly played an influential role in the impetus for the development of its own coinage. Moving outside the direct political economy, a further noteworthy religiouseconomic development was the construction of the temple of Hibis (ElKhārga). While its construction started under the pre-Persian Saite Dynasty, the bulk of the building took place during the reign of Darius. This temple, dedicated to Osiris and Isis, has been interpreted as an important comparison to the rebuilding of the Jerusalem temple: both were to serve as a symbolic center for newly established (or re-established) agricultural communities.302 Such a conclusion fits well with the Xenophon’s view of the purpose of Persian satraps and provincial leadership: they should take necessary steps to support and increase the agricultural output of their region. The logic of the temple construction is that every newly (or re-) established community would benefit from the establishment of a local cultic center. Turning now to the Elephantine colony near the first cataract of the Nile, which had a significant number of Jewish residents, the documents portray a rich array of economic material for the fifth century. It is clear from the extant Elephantine contracts that silver was used quite regularly as a means of quantifying value and for payment during the fifth century. How can the economic situation of this community be compared to the conditions found in Yehud? This is a difficult question, even though the communities had written contact with one another and share cultural-religious traditions. Nonetheless, the evidence will be suggestive. One important feature of the Elephantine community was that a number of residents drew rations from the royal treasury each month, and these rations were often used as guarantees for future repayment of loans. The rations could be made in grain (B 3.13) or silver (B 4.2), displaying a certain flexibility in the payment system. The most frequent appearance of silver is as a penalty for bringing a lawsuit in a matter that is protected by a contract. Contracts relay payments in silver, 300

Ibid., 5. Ibid. 302 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 475–80; Lisbeth S. Fried, The Priest and the Great King: Temple-Palace Relations in the Persian Empire, BJSUCSD 10 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004), 79–80. 301

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in karsh, according to the [Persian?] king’s stones (i.e., TADAE B 2.2:14–15) defined further by their weight of 2 quarters (‫ = ר‬reba‘) to the ten (i.e., B 2.2:14–15, B 2.3:21; B 2.4:15) sheqels (or tql, in Aramaic: i.e., TADAE B 2.6:5–7), and ḥallurs, ‫חלרן‬. Not only did payments take place in silver, there are other items, such as garments and metal utensils, which are equated with values in silver (B 2.6:8– 15). Especially the marriage contracts (B 2.6; 3.3; 3.8; 6.1; 6.2) show the economic ramifications of matrimony, laying out clearly the economic value that the woman both brought with her in her dowry.303 These contracts also indicate that she would take considerable property with her should the marriage be dissolved (the amount varies depending on who initiates the divorce). One such contract (B 3.8:5) even documents actual silver brought by the wife as a dowry. Furthermore, in the case of the death of the husband, the wife would inherit the husband’s estate. The loans recorded in contracts (B 3.1, 3.13 and 4.2) could likewise be either of grain or silver. The agreement in B 3.13 is somewhat unique, in that the same amount is to be paid back as was received, but if it is not paid within 20 days, there is a hefty fine (1 krš). The interest rate on silver in B 4.2 and B 3.1 was set at 5% per month,304 and differently than in other documents, was measured according to the weight stones of Ptah, unlike the weights of the king known from other contracts in Elephantine. This variety indicates that both in terms of weights and means of payment, the Elephantine community could equate and exchange according to a number of different value structures. For example, a purchase deed of a house whose price appears in krš is then converted into the value in Ionian staters (‫ ;כסף יון סתתרי‬B 3.12:5). Loans of silver took place as early as 487 BCE, thus earlier than the assumed date for Nehemiah’s sojourn and stay in Yehud, showing that silver was, not surprisingly, already in circulation at this date. This fact may account for the weight measurement according to the weights of the Ptah (temple) as well. It appears that a royal Persian weight system had not yet made its way definitively into Elephantine commerce at this point. Or, if it had, standardization was not a high value. Beyond the specific documents themselves, it may be possible to draw other links between the political economics of Yehud Judean and Elephantine Judean communities. Both Yehud and the Elephantine community strived to rebuild sanctuaries that had been destroyed. Both were confronted by local adversaries

303 See the helpful discussion of the economic implications of marriage and divorce at Elephantine in Adams, Social and Economic Life, 31–39. 304 Porten notes the extremely high interest rates, much higher than in Mesopotamian documents at the time. Bezalel Porten, Archives from Elephantine: The Life of an Ancient Jewish Military Colony (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968), 77.

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and turned to the higher Persian leadership – Arsames in the case of Elephantine and the Emperor himself in the case of the Ezra correspondence – to provide them with favor.305 With regard to the Elephantine temple, the Jewish community (or garrison: ‫)חילא יהודיא‬, clearly considered it a civic duty to provide financial support.306 There was, then, a link to a particular (ethnic) cultic center, even though other ethnic groups with their own cultic practices – in this case worshipers of Khnum – were present and were surely contributing to the maintenance of their cultic center. Pulling these various discussions together, the broader Egyptian evidence shows that, at least in this fertile region, significant international trade with Greeks and Phoenicians continued during the Persian period – as it had for centuries. This trade brought customs taxes in specie to the Persian coffers. Secondly, there was significant continuity in the presentation of official leadership: as far as is known, the Persian rulers presented themselves in traditional pharaonic titularies and maintained some support for temples, even supporting the construction of a new one and being petitioned to sanction the rebuilding of another (the Jewish temple in Elephantine). Given the well-developed tax structures from previous dynasties, it would be surprising if the Persians felt it necessary to introduce their own system of dues. Nonetheless, in spite of considerable outward continuity during the century of Persian rule, indigenous revolts finally succeeded in casting off Persian hegemony. During the period of independence, the pharaohs introduced their own coinage, suggesting at least in part a political motivation for the development. However, even before this time, metals played an important role in international trade and in the more mundane reckoning and payments of soldiers’ salaries and loans in Elephantine. As both of these scenarios (soldiers’ wages and customs’ tax) maintain close connections with the Persian rulers, it thereby leaves open the question of just how widely metals and then coinage necessarily circulated prior to the arrival of Greek hegemony in the late fourth century. 4.3.9. Samaria and Wadi Daliyeh An eclectic group of sources allow for a variegated reconstruction of the Samarian economy during the Persian period. The manifold relationships between the Samarian community and Yehud are, of course, documented in Ezra-

305 Peter R. Bedford, “The Economic Role Of The Jerusalem Temple In Achaemenid Judah: Comparative Perspectives,” in Shai Le-Sara Japhet: Studies in the Bible, Its Exegesis and Language, ed. M. Bar-Anbar et al. (Jerusalem: Bialik, 2007), 86; Reinhard G. Kratz, “The Second Temple of Jeb and of Jerusalem,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and Manfred Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 247– 64. 306 Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase, 120. Cf. TAD 3.15

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Nehemiah, as well as appearing in the Elephantine correspondence. These historical sources belie the dearth of remains found in the excavations of the city of Samaria itself. Persian-period remains appeared only in unstratified assemblages, and the Persian layers themselves fell victim to complete removal by Alexander and later rebuilding efforts.307 Nonetheless, the combined finds from the city of Samaria, Gerizim, and Wadi Daliyeh are quite rich, pointing to the wealth of the city, likely including an imperial garden akin to the one in Ramat Raḥel.308 Coins and bullae are also extant and add to the picture. The Yahweh temple on Gerizim during the Persian period never appears directly in the canonical books, yet the ritual in Deut 27:4 (SamP), 12 and Josh 8:30–35 and various events in Shechem hint at the importance of this location. The striking finds in the excavations on Mount Gerizim have shed new light on the relationship between the Jerusalem-based Yehud community and their northern neighbors. The most important development lies in the archaeological dating of the Gerizim temple to the mid-Persian period, the mid-fifth century, rather than to the late fourth century date attributed to it by Josephus.309 The contracts from Wadi Daliyeh have also added important information about the ruling family and slave-holding practices in the fourth century. Finally, the coinage of the province indicates several influences from outside. Placing this temple, or possibly an open courtyard altar,310 firmly in the fifth century raises significant economic questions for the Jerusalem-based community. This is the same period as the narrated governorship of Nehemiah: his return from the king (13:6) takes place no later than 424 BCE.311 The shoddy financial position of the Jerusalem temple receives extended attention in Neh 13:10–13, perhaps documenting the problems associated with the siphoning off of temple contributions to the newly-built Gerizim temple. As a result, the biblical scenario might be read profitably as an inner-Yahwistic struggle for economic support between two cultic centers. Gerizim has yielded 307

Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 424. Oded Lipschits, Yuval Gadot, and Dafna Langgut, “The Riddle of Ramat Rahel: The Archaeology of a Royal Persian Edifice,” Transeu 41 (2012): 72. 309 Yitzhak Magen, “The Dating of the First Phase of the Samaritan Temple on Mount Gerizim in Light of the Archaeological Evidence,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E, ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and R. Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 176; Yitzhak Magen, “Dating of Samaritan Temple on Mt. Gerizim,” Response, BAR, 2012, http://www.bib-arch.org /scholars-study/ mount-gerizim -response.asp. 310 Jürgen K. Zangenberg, “The Sanctuary on Mount Gerizim: Observations on the Results of 20 Years of Excavation,” in Temple Building and Temple Cult: Architecture and Cultic Paraphernalia of Temples in the Levant (2.-1. Mill. B.C.E.) : Proceedings of a Conference on the Occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the Institute of Biblical Archaeology at the University of Tübingen (28-30 May 2010), ed. Jens Kamlah, ADPV 41 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2012), 409. 311 Hugh G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, WBC (Waco, TX: Word, 1985), 382, gives the year of Artaxerxes death as the latest possible date. 308

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coins from Cyprus, Sidon, and Tyre from the fifth century, supporting the notion of their use in the temple precincts even in this early period.312 Furthermore, Josephus (Ant. 12.7–10; cf. 13.74–79) bears witness to discussions between Jews in Alexandria about whether to send cultic contributions to Gerizim or to Jerusalem.313 Second, the finds from the caves of Wadi Daliyeh, north of Jericho, provide a short glimpse into the documents that those Samaritans fleeing from Alexander’s advance felt were important enough to carry with them. They consist of personal legal documents, such as title documents of property, including slaves. The content of these texts provides several further hints for understanding the economics of Samaria. For one, the documented price of a male slave was between 10 shekels (WDSP 3) and 30 shekels (WDSP 4) or 35 shekels (WDSP 1). The analysis of the coins and weight designations from Samaria provide striking results. Dušek concludes that shekel means something different when it is used with regard to the silver coin than when it is used as part of the Samarian system of weights.314 He bases this conclusion on several observations. First, while some of the terminology overlaps (i.e., shekel), the term quarter (‫ =ר‬reba‘) never appears on weights. For coinage Samaria used ‫( מ ר ש‬shekel, reba, me’ah), while for weights there was shekel and minah. Second, whenever shekel is used for payments, kesep appears along with it. Finally, there were variant systems of weights in service (from the Cilician on the lighter end to the Attic on the heavier end) for the weight of coins, so the system of weights could not be directly equivalent to the weights of specific coins.315 Turning to the coinage itself, as noted above, Athenian coinage dominated international trade most everywhere that coinage was in use in the Eastern Mediterranean, and this is also the case in Samaria during the fifth and fourth centuries.316 However, it should be kept in mind that the Phoenicians were the primary agents for bringing Greek culture to Yehud and Samaria. So, while the earliest extant coins found in Palestine are of Greek origins in the late sixth and early fifth centuries, they were likely brought by the Phoenicians.

312

Magen, “The Dating of the First Phase of the Samaritan Temple,” 179. Magnar Kartveit, “The Second Temple and the Temple of the Samaritans,” in Die Samaritaner und die Bibel: historische und literarische Wechselwirkungen zwischen biblischen und samaritanischen Traditionen: Historical and Literary Interactions between Biblical and Samaritan Traditions = The Samaritans and the Bible, ed. Jörg Frey, Ursula Schattner-Rieser, and Konrad Schmid, SJ 70; Studia Samaritana 7 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 76. 314 Dušek, Les manuscrits araméens du Wadi Daliyeh et la Samarie vers 450–332 Av. J.C, 505. 315 Ibid., 496–505. 316 Yaʿaqov Mešorer, A Treasury of Jewish Coins from the Persian Period to Bar Kokhba trans. R. Amoils (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2001), 7. 313

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After the first stage dominated by Athenian coins, scholars have traditionally seen a close relationship between Samaria and Persian imagery mediated through Cilician (derived from Persian images) and Sidonian influences. This position rests, for example, on a particular image of the “head of a satrap,” found on at least twelve coins. It shows prominent – at least indirect – Persian influence. Overall, the images are completely reliant on foreign themes. The situation in Samaria is summarized by Mildenberg as follows: Es handelt sich um eine Zweckprägung ad hoc, die um 360 begonnen und dann etwa zwanzig Jahre lang fortgeführt wurde. … Hergestellt wurden nur Kleinmünzen, für Samaria gesicherte Drachmen sehe ich nicht.”317

The evidence from the Persian period finds on Mt. Gerizim support Mildenberg’s conclusion. Fifth century coins from the Gerizim cultic site come from Cyprus, Tyre, and Sidon. The Samarian exemplars follow the Sidonian adaptation of Persian iconography, that is, Persian-type coins from Sidon. While these conclusions are widely accepted, there has been considerable discussion in recent scholarship about the extent of Samarian coinage and the agents responsible for its minting. Two monographic treatments of Samarian coinage, both by Meshorer and Qedar, posit 224 Samarian issued coins.318 However, only a small percentage of these are necessarily connected to Samaria; it possible that some were minted in Tyre or Philistia, for example.319 Such a scenario suggests that the picture for Samarian issues is vaguer than traditionally thought. A second problem relates to the notorious problem of the identity and purpose of the minting. Mildenberg argues that international trade could not be the impetus, but rather internal needs. This does not mean that provinces that only stamped small coinage were not involved in wider trade, yet their position in the market was not so significant that their coinage was widely accepted elsewhere, and perhaps this was not even desirable because they could rely on other (especially Athenian) issues. Instead, it appears that the needs for their own coins were related to developing a somewhat more diversified local economy. In Samaria this seems to have been driven by quite pragmatic concerns, if one can take the variety of coin images as evidence. It is clear that some of the Samarian issues bear the name of satraps – Pharnabazos and Mazday. What is quite striking is that Pharnabazos was not known to be satrap of “Beyond the River,” the satrap to which Samaria belonged! If coins were issued in Samaria by these two figures, which is difficult 317

Mildenberg, “Über die Münzbildnisse in Palästina und Nordwestarabien Zur Perserzeit,” 378. Yaʿaqov Mešorer and Shraga Qedar, Samarian Coinage (Jerusalem: Israel Numismatic Society, 1999), 11, imagine a somewhat longer period, lasting from 375–322. 318 Mešorer and Qedar, Samarian Coinage. 319 Dušek, “Again on Samarian Governors and Coins in the Persian Period: A Rejoinder to Edward Lipiński and Michał Marciak,” 131–43.

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to deny because the coins exhibit both the names of the figures and some form of the name “Samaria,” then the purpose for the coins did not have the promotion of Samarian power or identity in the forefront. Coins bearing Mazday’s name also appeared in Sidon and Tarsus; in the former during the same year that Sidonian coinage was issued by its ruler, ‘Abd-Aštarte (342–333). The issuance of both of these series – that of ‘AbdAštarte and of Mazday – with great likelihood served the political purpose of asserting their combined pro-Persian authority after the Sidonian revolt, which had ended with the burning of Sidon.320 Thus the purpose is again more complicated than just local identity that is against imperial might. However, in this scenario the purpose is strongly linked to the representation of Persian power, unlike some other minting events in the Persian Empire. Dušek argues that Pharnabazos, on the other hand, likely issued the Samarian coins in conjunction with his military expedition against Egypt (380–373 BCE), for which he was preparing in Akko.321 His Samarian issues may have asserted his authority to procure Samaria’s resources for the war effort against Egypt. If this is the case, then there is a further wrinkle: perhaps coinage need not even be minted in the particular polity that it is intended for. A further important conclusion that should be drawn from the Samarian numismatic material relates to the economic connections: there were close ties to Phoenicia – especially Sidon, while there was almost a closed border with Yehud to the south.322 The absence of significant economic ties between the provinces of Samaria and Yehud may provide important insight for the animosity 320 Josette Elayi and Alain G. Elayi, “Le Monnayage Sidonien de Mazday,” Transeu 27 (2004): 160–62. 321 Dušek, “Again on Samarian Governors and Coins in the Persian Period,” 143. 322 Mešorer and Qedar, Samarian Coinage, 70–71. They argue: “On the one hand, numismatic finds indicate that Samaria’s commercial relations were mainly with Phoenicia to the north, especially with the two cities, Tyre and Sidon. This can be seen by the presence of coins from these two cities in both the Samaria and Nablus Hoards. On the other hand, it appears that connections with Judea and Philisto-Arabia to the south were almost non-existent, since only a negligible number of coins minted in those regions have been found in Samaria and no Samarian coins have been found in the south. Observations of our finds suggest an almost closed border to the south between Samaria and Judea and Philisto-Arabia. In contrast, many Philisto-Arabian coins have been found in Judea and many Judean coins have been found in the coastal plain that was in the Philisto-Arabian sphere of influence. In all three areas, however, great numbers of Athenian imitations have been found and their attribution is only made possible according to their provenance. ... Another common factor linking Samaria, Judea and Philisto-Arabia, was the use of Tyrian and Sidonian coins, which have been found in great numbers in all three regions. In spite of the apparent lack of links between the north and the south, the monetary system was identical in all areas and it is interesting to note that although not all the denominations were struck in each area, economic needs seem to have been met by the use of ‘missing’ denominations from neighbouring areas.”

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recorded between these two in the biblical texts, most obviously in Ezra-Nehemiah, but also in the competing versions of Deut 27:4.323 Given the dates of the coins, this “closed border” (to us an anachronistic notion) existed during the mid-fourth century. The evidence from Yehud’s northern neighbor indicates a less developed economy than those along the shore in terms of the number of coins found and when it began minting. Second, the dominant political-economic authority was not necessarily even resident in Samaria – satraps could exert power even through beyond Samaria’s borders. A similarly confused picture comes from the weights: no single system prevailed. Third, in terms of cultic economics, if the Gerizim sanctuary was in use in the mid fifth century, then it likely proved a strong competitor to the Jerusalem cult in terms of drawing religious contributions. Finally, the difference in orientations between the two former Israelite regions – Samaria to Sidon and Yehud to Tyre – and little connection between them in terms of coin iconography might provide room for speculation about a break along ideological lines between the two. 4.3.10. Idumea I now turn to the final discussion of the context outside Yehud, namely to the region of Idumea to the south. This region provides some provenanced written materials, a plethora of unprovenanced ostraca, and significant archaeological sites to allow for ascertaining the economic history of the region. The political status of the region, however, is difficult to determine. Was it an “independent” province with a capital, perhaps at Lachish, Bozrah, or elsewhere? How did its territory expand and contract from the time when Edomites overran the Negev as part of the Babylonian destruction onwards?324 Its status is even more uncertain than that of Yehud. What is known is that the region became a hyparchia in the early Hellenistic period. Significant among the provenanced inscriptions are collections of ostraca from Beersheba and Arad. Excavators from Tell es-Saba’ (alternately, Tel Beersheba), outside Beersheba, found 70 Aramaic ostraca with Jewish, Edomite, and Arab personal names and quantities of grain or other items, along with the date (of delivery).325 Naveh places them around the middle of the fourth century. These ostraca display, first of all, the mix of ethnicities at the strategic 323 Compare the MT with the pre- or proto-Samaritan fragment claimed reportedly from Qumran; cf. James H. Charlesworth, “What Is a Variant? Announcing a Dead Sea Scrolls Fragment of Deuteronomy,” 2010, http://foundationjudaismchristianorigins.org/ftp/pages/ dead-sea-scrolls/unpub/DSS-deuteronomy.pdf. 324 Cf. Obad. See the overview in Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 443–54. 325 Joseph Naveh, “The Aramaic Ostraca from Tel Beer-Sheba (Seasons 1971–1976),” TA 6 (1979): 182–98.

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fortress along the Arabian trade route. Those with quantities likely show the kinds of taxes in kind – ‫ ח‬as an abbreviation for wheat (‫ )חנתן‬or ‫ ש‬for barley (‫ )שׂערן‬collected, though they could also record rations.326 The Arad excavation has likewise provided 85 ostraca, though only half are legible. These consist of records of provisions or tax payments in kind, similar to those from Tell es-Saba’. The list of products is somewhat different, including wine (‫)חמר‬, flour (‫)קמח‬, and crushed grain (‫)דקיר‬. Horses, donkeys, and camels were also cared for. The lists of names again reveal a mix of Edomites and Arabs, and a Babylonian in charge of a regiment (‫)דגל‬. The appearance of a Babylonian – at least in name – as head of a military unit hints at some cultural transfer in the higher ranks of the army from more central regions of the Persian Empire to its periphery. However, most of the rest of the names of the functionaries here were Judean, showing at least ethnic ties to Yehud, in spite of other indicators of cultural distance from Jerusalem.327 From this material one might logically conclude, with Lemaire, that imperial storehouses were in place at these two sites during the fourth century when this region stood on the border to both the Arabian tribes and to Egypt.328 And in support of the significant imperial attention accorded to this region are a number of Persian fortresses, all built according to the same architectural plan, along the road to Egypt.329 A flood of unprovenanced ostraca purchased from the antiquities market – proposed to have originated from Makkedah (Khirbet el-Qom) – offers to increase scholarly understanding of the inner workings of the economics system of the region south of Yehud, especially during the fourth century. Lemaire, one of the primary epigraphers involved in publishing the material, uses the internal dates of the ostraca to date them to a fifty-year period, 362–312

326 Diana Vikander Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem, Bible World (London: Equinox, 2005), 268. 327 Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 452; Yigʾal Levin, “The Southern Frontier of Yehud and the Creation of Idumaea,” in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods, ed. Y. Levin, LSTS 65 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 239–52. 328 Andre Lemaire, Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes d’Idumée au Musée d’Israël, Transeuphratène Supplément 3 (Paris: Gabalda, 1996), 155. 329 Betlyon, “A People Transformed,” 17, adopting this interpretation from earlier archaeologists.

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BCE.330 These administrative records, many of which he interprets as tax records,331 list mostly agricultural products brought to a storehouse after harvest. These records, as in his understanding, indicate that this region brought its taxes to a different center than Jerusalem, militating against making too close of an administrative connection between this region and Jerusalem. There may be, however, some indications that silver in half-shekels was paid as some sort of poll tax. Lemaire notes that there is no evidence supporting a connection between these tax receipts and any of the temples in Khirbet el-Qom.332 He curiously reads over his own conclusion, however, and goes on to suggest that somehow, in spite of this, it is to be expected that the Jerusalem Temple would function as the storehouse for tax payments and deliveries. While quite speculative, this conclusion has been followed in recent attempts to locate a direct reason for the development of the small coins in Yehud. Contrary to Lemaire’s understanding, Eph‘al and Naveh argue that the ostraca “…indicate nothing about state or regional administration.”333 At least some of the ostraca could easily represent private payments or deliveries.334 Alongside goods, silver in sheqels [E/N 56] was also used as a means of trade. Loans in grain (‫עבור זפתא‬: E/N 47; ‫זפתא ח‬, E/N 92) and also purchases of grain ([‫[ )עבור זבינת]א‬E/N 72] appear.335 One ostracon, E/N 199, seems quite clearly to address a private debt (‫)חב‬ There are, nonetheless, several mentions of ‫אשכר‬, and this term was associated with the treasury accounting in Persepolis.336 Additionally, a number of the ostraca provide personal names followed by amounts of wheat (E/N 174,

330

His growing list of publications on these finds include André Lemaire, “Administration in Fourth-Century B.C.E.: Judah in Light of Epigraphy and Numismatics,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E, ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and R. Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 53–74; “New Aramaic Ostraca from Idumea and Their Historical Interpretation,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 413–56; “Taxes et Impôts Dans Le Sud de La Palestine (IVe S. Av. J.-C.),” Transeu 28 (2004): 133–42; Lemaire, Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes d’Idumée au Musée d’Israël. 331 Similarly, Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple, 265. 332 Lemaire, “Administration in Fourth-Century B.C.E. Judah,” 58. 333 Israel Eph’al and Joseph Naveh, Aramaic Ostraca of the Fourth Century BC from Idumaea (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, Hebrew University, 1996), 15. 334 I see no reason why the dating scheme should indicate a conneciton to the Achaemenid administration, as argued in Lemaire, “New Aramaic Ostraca from Idumea and Their Historical Interpretation,” 414–15. 335 In TADAE B3.12 r. 31 a “receipt of sale” (‫ )ספר זבנתא‬appears. 336 E/N 98:3 (‫)אשכר פלפוס‬, 168:2, and as a jar inscription as [‫ ;אשכר טבי]ה‬also known from the Persepolis Aramaic inscriptions, where it is often related to the treasurer (‫)גנזברא‬ and to certain years. There is also possible one of ‫ בלוא‬in IduOstr.2.81.2

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179), sheqels (E/N 180), or oil (E/N 186, 187), though this hardly indicates that the ostraca represent an archive of tax receipts. Quite worthy of note is that no Idumean coins are known. Thus, as a sparsely populated and inland province, the economy remained far more local and clan oriented. Eph’al and Naveh state: “…three documents refer to ‘the House of PN’ …, and 30 to ‘the Sons of PN’… This feature clearly reflects a clan-tribal organization.”337 The larger question that depends on one’s answer to whether these ostraca originate from some kind of tax receipt archive is the status of the region during the fourth (and even the second half of the fifth) century. If the ostraca come from an administrative tax archive, then it may support the development of an independent Idumean province. If so, was it in 450 or rather around 400 BCE? For Fantalkin and Tal, for instance, it is appealing to bring these records in connection with their re-dating of the residential palace at Lachish to strengthen their hypothesis of an independent Idumea in response to the loss of Egypt around 400.338 One can conclude from the ostraca arising from various unprovenanced and provenanced locations (Arad, Beer-sheva, and one from Tel es-Sera‘) that collection, trade, and/or tax payments took place as one would expect in this relatively sparsely populated border region of the Persian Empire: Taxes and trade took place in basic commodities, including silver in (weighed) sheqels. Furthermore, it is clear from the various material assemblages and names on the ostraca that Neh 11:25–30 (with its mention of families from, i.e., Beersheba in relation to the resettlement of Jerusalem) need not be taken as decisive evidence for Judean expansion into this region, though the presence of Judean names at Arad points to a complex interregional relationship.339 Finally, the date ranges for the administrative records imply an unbroken and stable transition from Persian to Greek hegemony. Whatever the changes at the “top,” the collection of duties on agriculture or trade display no break or substantial alteration.

337

Eph’al and Naveh, Aramaic Ostraca of the Fourth Century BC from Idumaea, 15. Alexander Fantalkin and Oren Tal, “Judah and Its Neighbors in the Fourth Century BCE: A Time of Major Transformations,” in Judah to Judea: Socio-Economic Structures and Processes in the Persian Period, ed. J. U. Ro, Hebrew Bible Monographs 43 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2012), 134–97. 339 John W. Wright, “Remapping Yehud: The Borders of Yehud and the Genealogies of Chronicles,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 86–87, argues alternatively for a more patronage rather than geographical based tax system whereby families contributed goods and services based in part on ethnic affiliation. 338

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4.3.11. Conclusions The task that now remains is to pull together the extremely broad and variegated evidence from the Persian-period world surrounding Yehud and the texts of the Hebrew Bible stemming from this epoch. First and foremost, the overview of the various cultural-geographic regions shows that it was a time of significant inter-regional and intraregional trade. While agricultural households remain the backbone of most every economy across the Persian Empire and in the neighboring Greek polities, people and goods moved significant distances. One of perhaps the most striking conclusions is the minimal effect of Persian political hegemony on the coinage and trade of the western Persian Empire, outside of Samaria. Trade with Greeks and with Greek (or Greek-influenced) coins continued unabated throughout periods of Persian-Greek hostility. Persians and Greeks appear to have separated economics from politics to a significant degree. A second important trend is the concentration on interregional trade, commercialized exchange, and coinage in Babylonia, Egypt, Greece, and Phoenicia. In contrast, the further away from the waterways one moved, the later these developments ensued. Samaria, Yehud, and Idumea fall on this late side of the continuum: economic growth in these Levantine regions was delayed in terms of trade and coinage. Thus, while commercialization, coinage, and increased exchange do come to these inland regions, it was more toward the latter part of the Persian period or only after Alexander’s conquest (in the case of Idumea).

4.4. Yehud: The Record of its Material Culture in the Persian Period 4.4. Yehud: The Record of its Material Culture

After introducing the broad and near context, I now turn to the discussion of the main event – the material background of Yehud itself. Archaeological understanding of the Persian period has advanced considerably in recent decades – before this there was basically a void between the Babylonian invasion and the Hellenistic (or Hasmonean) period. Stern, whose work marks the beginning of this advancement in the 1960s, notes the following reasons for the lack of understanding for the period: “on many of the local mounds, the Persian levels are the upper most or the latest on the site; in other tells these levels are found beneath massive Hellenistic and Roman structures.”340 He continues, “… we must first point out the surprising sparseness of 340

Stern, “The Archaeology of Persian Palestine,” 90; cf. Ephraim Stern, Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period 538–332 B.C (Warminster: Aris and Phillips, 1982), vii, where he adds: "Specialization in research has led to a further neglect of the Persian period; some scholars have devoted themselves to the earlier First Temple period

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building remains, in contrast to the number of sites containing other finds of this period.”341 Yet, as Stern notes, and Lipschits has gone on to demonstrate, the sparseness of buildings does not extend either to the coastal lowlands or to Benjamin, both of which flourished at this time.342 There is a stark difference in the archaeological developments between the Philistine and Phoeniciandominated coast and the northern Galilee regions, and the inland Judean and, to a lesser extent, Samarian highlands. As I have detailed above, the coastal regions display significantly more interaction with the Greek world, showing off imported pottery and its imitations. The highlands only gradually follow suit in giving up their conservative and lower quality ware.343 The finds of the exilic and postexilic periods have in fact been so sparse that archaeologists have had significant difficulty locating secure anchors for dating remains to these periods. Nonetheless, on the basis of seal stamp typology, Lipschits and Vanderhooft argue that a secure Persian period date can now be linked to the YHD stamp impressions, which follow after the use of the lion stamps during the Babylonian hegemony.344 Both internal biblical and external archaeological data of the Babylonian period have confirmed a more differentiated view than the supposed “empty land” view presented in some parts of the Bible and earlier scholarship, as reviewed above.345 Lipschits argues that some parts of Judah continued without large breaks in the archaeological record, while other regions underwent desolation. Significant developments did take place: “Thus, at the time of Babylonian rule, an unprecedented demographic shift took place in Judah that resulted in the dwindling of the local population, leaving it less than half its previous size.”346 Judah – especially Jerusalem – declines in importance, while Benjamin becomes more prominent, both in terms of settled area and continuity with preexilic Judah.347 Faust, however, critics Lipschits’ figures, positing an even and some to the later period of the Second Temple, whereas this period, intermediate as it is, has been left in the dark. 341 Stern, “The Archaeology of Persian Palestine,” 90. 342 Ibid., 91; Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 190; Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” 27. However, Faust disputes the evidence from Benjamin (Faust, Judah in the NeoBabylonian Period, 210–11). 343 Stern, “The Archaeology of Persian Palestine,” 95–99; Oded Lipschits, “The History and Archaeology of Exilic and Post-Exilic Judah: A New Understanding” (Lecture, Zürich, March 2, 2012). 344 Lipschits, “The History and Archaeology of Exilic and Post-Exilic Judah: A New Understanding.” For an extensive treatment, see Oded Lipschits and David S. Vanderhooft, Yehud Stamp Impressions: A Corpus of Inscribed Impressions from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods in Judah (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011). 345 See above, section 4.1. The Babylonian Period in Yehud. 346 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, xii, 190. 347 Ibid., 164–74.

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sharper decline from a higher population in the Late Iron Age to a lower one in the Persian period than Lipschits suggests, returning closer to the model presented in some biblical texts.348 Regardless, both have shown that considerable devastation took place. Within the Persian period itself, archaeologists see little hope in differentiating between earlier and later phases.349 An earlier attempt was made by Carter to separate the epoch of Persian hegemony into two separate archaeological periods, but subsequent scholarship has generally rejected his demarcation of the two periods.350 One significant reason for the skepticism is the quite rural nature of most archaeological sites from the period, rendering it difficult to identify more precisely the dates of sites within the Persian period. The pottery can only be labelled as “Persian” because there is no ceramic differentiation between early and late Persian pottery.351 Yet, in spite of this criticism, some archaeological and historical evidence points to important changes around 400 BCE in the region, mostly however, in Idumea – i.e., the building of a network of forts that fits with Egypt’s successful rebellion. The Yehud archaeological sites consist primarily of farmsteads, hamlets, or small villages, some continuing from the Iron Age IIC (the period immediately before the Babylonian destruction), some renewals of earlier Iron Age sites, and others appearing where no settlements had existed in prior eras.352 The primarily agricultural – focused on wine, oil, and grain – nature of these sites began already under the Babylonians (and much earlier), implying the economic role of suppliers of basic agricultural products for the region. Oil and wine had been part of the exports from the Judean hills since the Assyrian period, but Edelman sees grain exports as a relatively new development.353 The evidence from Ashkelon disputes the newness of grain exports, yet, given Ashkelon’s destruction by the Babylonians in 604 BCE, one might speak of the renewed grain exports of the Persian period. There was also somewhat a shift in the rural settlements. Edelman’s analysis concludes that there were 108 new Persian sites, of these 48 were on Iron Age 348

Faust, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations,” 34–35. Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple, 327. 350 Carter, The Emergence of Yehud, 116–17; Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 193–94 n. 34. 351 Diana Edelman, “Settlement Patterns in Persian-Era Yehud,” in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods, ed. Y. Levin, LSTS 65 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 53. 352 For figures see ibid., 54. 353 Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple, 311; Faust and Weiss, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World” suggest such a development during the seventh century, however. Cf. also above, Section 3.1. Economics in Preexilic Israel and Syro-Palestine. Boer, Sacred Economy, 183, simply dismisses the evidence from Ashkelon. This move displays a tragedy of rejecting the little extant evidence simply because it does not fit his theoretical presuppositions. 349

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IIB or older sites. This figure is juxtaposed to 154 sites with both Iron IIC and Persian period remains. Statistically, these figures imply that 23% of the settlements dating to the Persian period were neither continuations nor renewals of Iron Age settlements.354 They were actually on new plots of land. This development surprises because opening new plots requires more work, such as clearing the land and constructing adequate facilities. Because there was no lack of land, she proposes that this came about at the directive of the Empire. They represent “ḫatrus” in the Judean highlands, much like those in the Nippur region documented in the Murashu archive.355 This is certainly a possible interpretation. If so, and if they were Judeans, it still might be expected that they returned to lands that had already been cleared because some local knowledge of the place could be expected. If they were not Judean, one might hope for some type of material remains pointing to their “non-Judahite” heritage. However, little such evidence has appeared. Regardless of their genetic ethnicity, their presence in the region presented a threat and an opportunity to the social, religious, and political make-up of the province. Could the vision of the traditional Judahite exclusive connection with Yahweh and Jerusalem draw them into its orbit? Where would these settlers’ affiliations lie? As a whole, C. Carter postulates the highest population of Yehud in the Persian period to have been around 20,000; Lipschits estimates 30,000.356 Population estimates for the period are very difficult, however, not the least because the boundaries for Yehud are hard to determine, that is to the degree that “territorial” boundaries existed within the Persian provinces.357 As discussed above, especially contentious is the question of the southern border to Idumea. Regardless of the particular estimate, the population and relative prosperity drop off significantly from the Iron Age II. Faust estimates there were only

354 Edelman, “Settlement Patterns in Persian-Era Yehud,” 54, 62. Yet the issue remains a topic of discussion. Lipschits argues that of 238 Persian-period sites in Judah (a slight difference from the 262 for Edelman), “… only 28% are new sites that were built in a new place in the Persian period, while 72% are carry-overs from the Iron Age” (Oded Lipschits, “The Rural Economy of Judah during the Persian Period and the Settlement History of the District System” in The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context, ed M. L. Miller, E. Ben Zvi, and G. N. Knoppers [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015], 255). Faust puts the number at 216 sites (“Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations,” 32). 355 Ibid., 64. 356 Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period, 202; Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 270, though he has subsequently revised his estimate for Jerusalem itself down to near 1,000 from 3,000, which likely implies a smaller overall population for Yehud as well. Faust also argues for a lower figure in for overall population than Lipschits in Faust, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations,” 34–35. 357 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 154, notes: “There is no information in the sources from the Persian Period about the boundaries of the province of Yehud.”

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35% of the number of sites that there were in the late Iron Age,358 and the stark comparison with the relative grandeur of later Hellenistic period remains. In terms of monumental architecture, only a handful of sites in the territory accorded to or near Yehud offer significant structures: Lachish, En Gedi, and Ramat Rahel are three of the few.359 The Lachish residence displayed similarities with Achaemenid architecture. Stern remarks: Another aspect which should be pointed out is the similarity of the Lachish Residence with the provincial Achemenid palaces, which are noticeable mainly for several architectural innovations, such as drum columns in the Greek fashion, monumental flights of stairs and vaulted roofing – all late elements common in the monumental structures of the Persian period in neighboring lands.360

The nature of this structure suggests that, regardless whether those living in it were Persian, Judean, or otherwise, there was a demonstrable link to the Achaemenid ideology. Fantalkin and Tal re-date this archaeological layer (Lachish 1) to approximately 400 BCE, surmising that the reason for its construction was defense of the newly redrawn southern frontier of the Persian Empire after the loss of Egypt.361 Lachish’s location in the southern Shephelah makes it an understandable choice for such a fort. While Edelman disputes the argumentation for the re-dating,362 either way Lachish represents a significant monumental structure, close to the border of Yehud (though it has also been proposed as the capital of Edom/Idumea). En Gedi, reestablished in the Persian period, has often been considered a royal (Persian) landholding. Part of this evaluation is based on the impressiveness of its “Building 234,” along with a number of other rich finds.363 One might relate its agricultural produce directly to the imperial “royal table.” Such a status would, in effect, remove its produce from direct involvement in the economy of the province of Yehud. The excavations of the palace at Ramat Rahel have revealed steady occupation from the Assyrian through the Persian and into the Hellenistic periods. Significant finds date to the Persian period, such as the Persian garden with its well-developed water system, containing plants heretofore unknown in the re-

358

Faust, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations,” 32. For Jerusalem, see section below. 360 Stern, “The Archaeology of Persian Palestine,” 92. 361 Alexander Fantalkin and Oren Tal, “Redating Lachish Level I: Identifying Achaemenid Imperial Policy at the Southern Frontier of the Fifth Satrapy,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 167–97 which is 50 years later than previously thought. 362 Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple, 271–76. 363 Stern, Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period, 39; idem, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 438–38; Fantalkin and Tal, “Judah and Its Neighbors in the Fourth Century BCE,” 134. 359

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gion like the citron. In fact, the excavators remark that the intensive construction of the site is unparalleled in the period from the region with regard to its majesty. While already quite monumental in its earlier phases – complete with proto-Aeolic capitals, the Persian period witnessed renewed building efforts that added an entire new wing to the palace or administrative center. Given the nature of the site, and the fact that it was not destroyed by the Babylonians, it appears that Ramat Raḥel had become one of the central government's most important – if not the most important – administrative tax collection centers during the existence of the province of Judea. This is the only possible explanation for the unusual concentration of yhwh stamp impressions on jar handles found there. The involvement of the central Achaemenid Persian government can be seen in the intensive construction at the site and in the unusual creation of the additional wing on the northwestern side of the existing palace, the style and strength of which is unparalleled by any finds from the area from that period.364

Therefore, Ramat Rahel appears as a powerful shadow lurking in the background of Persian-period biblical texts, especially those emerging from Yehud. Lipschits and Vanderhooft caution against supposing that the regional governor (‫ )פחה‬resided in Ramat Rahel,365 and while there is certainly no decisive evidence in favor of such a conclusion, the grandeur of the site does tend to imply it.366 Quite closely related, then is the question of Jerusalem in the period. Outside the urban settings, settlement patterns indicate a number of new farmsteads. Nonetheless, as far as the concerns of the Persian Empire, one can surmise that they generally continued along the same lines as they had during the Babylonian period, with the primary imperial concern being agricultural taxes in kind and corvée.367 With the majestic buildings of Ramat Rahel only several kilometers away, the central political or economic importance of Jerusalem itself calls for reinvestigation. 4.4.1. The Rebuilding of the Temple, the City of Jerusalem, and Demography Jerusalem’s role in the discussion – purposefully avoided until now – is central: How biblical interpreters envision the size of Jerusalem in this period plays a decisive role in their understanding of the economic dynamics of the period 364

Oded Lipschits et al., “Palace and Village, Paradise and Oblivion: Unraveling the Riddles of Ramat Raḥel,” NEA 74 (2011): 36–37. For the evidence of the seals, see Lipschits and Vanderhooft, Yehud Stamp Impressions. 365 Lipschits and Vanderhooft, Yehud Stamp Impressions, 80, though they provide no detailed reasoning. 366 There seems to be a shift in Lipschits thinking in this direction in his recent “The Rural Economy of Judah during the Persian Period,” 256–57. 367 Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” 29.

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and in their exegesis.368 Was the rebuilding of Jerusalem’s temple in the late sixth century decisive economically? What about the purported reconstruction of the city’s walls in the mid-fifth century? Turning first to the biblical text, intense discussion has taken place in scholarship over the extent, date, and trustworthiness of the rebuilding of the ‫ בירה‬of Jerusalem in Neh 2:8; 7:2. The contexts of these two verses do not imply that it need be some sort of military “fortress” as has often been understood. Furthermore, Briant presents evidence that contradicts the notion of a “fortified” structure, found in BDB, for example.369 Instead, Briant notes while discussing “lands and estates” the Elamite irmatam of various individuals in the PFT that record deposits or merchandise, and the irmatam are also agricultural estates. Furthermore, in the Elamite version of the Behistun inscription, irmatam is equivalent to Old Persian didā and Akkadian birtu. This data accords well with the appearance of the term in Aramaic – in Wadi Daliyeh and Elephantine. Most were located in the central regions of the Persian Empire, near royal gardens (παραδεισος), which implies that they had been carved out of fertile, irrigated land. “We are led to suppose that they were granted by the king to administrators. … In some inventories, the irmatam are located in a district (batin) and near villages (humanuš).”370 Perhaps this understanding for the bîrâ of Jerusalem (in Neh 2:8 ‫הבירה אשׁר־‬ ‫ ;לבית ולחומת העיר‬in 7:2 ‫ )שׂר הבירה על ירושׁלם‬could prove insightful. These estates also had to pay baziš (tax), which may carry interesting implications for Ezra 7’s report of the temple’s tax-free status. Could the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the “threat” it posed to its neighbors in the north have had little to do with military defense? Viewing the issue at hand in terms of economic tax collection would also make sense in terms of Jerusalem’s distance from the Egyptian border, which implies that it is ill-suited for protecting this border of the Persian Empire from Egyptian incursion.371

368

One recent example appears in Louis Jonker, “Agrarian Economy through CityElites’ Eyes: Reflections of Late Persian Period Yehud Economy in the Genealogies of Chronicles,” in The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context, ed. M. L. Miller, E. Ben Zvi, and G. N. Knoppers (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 77–101. Relying on Boer’s “sacred economy” model, he posits that Jerusalem develops into an elite settlement whose temple functioned as an imperial tax collection station (ibid., 90–96). However, Jerusalem’s Persian-period existence provides little evidence for grandeur. 369 BDB: 108. 370 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 445. 371 According to André Lemaire and Hélène Lozachmeur, “Bīrāh/Birtā’ en Araméen,” Syria 64 (1987): 261–66 they have walls, but serve a multitude of purposes, including military, storage, or administrative ones. They have walls to resist a siege.

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Those who place their focus on the biblical texts often imagine the Temple and its personnel as holders of considerable power during the entire period.372 Yet Jerusalem was quite small. Keel summarizes: “Jerusalem war im 5. Jh.a nicht viel größer als zur Zeit seiner Gründung um 1700a, als es eine Fläche von ca. 4,5ha [45 dunams] bedeckte.”373 He bases his conclusion on the argument made earlier by Ussishkin, that Nehemiah’s wall-building efforts primarily consisted of refurbishing the existing First Temple Period wall, even though there were too few residents to fill out the area inside.374 This view may also receive support from the biblical texts: Neh 11:1–2 portrays a choosing of lots among the people for some to move into the city, and the following verses record names of those who took up residence there And the princes of the people dwelled in Jerusalem, and the rest of the people drew lots to bring one of ten to dwell in Jerusalem, the holy city. But nine-tenths375 [remained] in the cities. And the people blessed376 all the men volunteering to dwell in Jerusalem.

Similarly, Neh 7:4 notes: “Now the city [was] spacious of both directions377 and large; but the people [were] few in its midst, and there were no houses built.” Lipschits argues, “… there is no archaeological evidence of settlement in Jerusalem from the time of the Babylonian destruction until the middle of the Persian Period. … Jerusalem was wretchedly poor not only in the period after the destruction but even at the height of the Persian Period.”378 Some pottery and burial evidence from the interim period exists, yet it is minimal and unimpressive. Yet by the middle of the fifth century he argues, on the basis of his standard reading of Nehemiah, a change had taken place.379 However, even 372

Joachim Schaper, Priester und Leviten im achämenidischen Juda: Studien zur Kultund Sozialgeschichte Israels in persischer Zeit, FAT 31 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). 373 Othmar Keel, Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus, Orte und Landschaften der Bibel IV, 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007), 2: 953. 374 David Ussishkin, “The Borders and de Facto Size of Jerusalem in the Persian Period,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 164. 375 Plural ‫ הידות‬used to indicate a fraction (see BDB: 390.4.b), also Gen 47:24; 2 Sam 19:44; 2 Kgs 11:7. 376 Following HALOT, 160, ‫ ויברכו ל‬means “pronounce a blessing over.” Nehemiah 11:2 records the only appearance of ‫ברך ל‬. 377 BDB 390, 3d: “wide of (on) both hands, i.e. in both directions: (cf. 932 for Gen 34:21) Ju 18:10, Isa 22:18; 1 Chr 4:40; Ps 104:25; Isa 33:21.” 378 Lipschits, “The History and Archaeology of Exilic and Post-Exilic Judah: A New Understanding,” 211. 379 Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B.C.E.,” 39: “At the center of this long process was the temple, not only as a cultic, literary, and theological center, but as a center for gathering taxes and carrying out other important fiscal tasks. ... It is clear, however, that by the middle of the fifth century Jerusalem had arrived at a point of a change.”

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these claims of a change in the mid-fifth century are contested. More solid evidence comes from the Elephantine correspondence near the end of the fifth century, which, in the draft of the letter to Bagavahya in 407 BCE (TADAE A4.7), appeals for the support of Jehohanan the High Priest and his priestly colleagues in Jerusalem.380 Again, however, like Neh 3, there is no indication that Bagavahya the governor must have resided in Jerusalem. As Finkelstein points out, the actual basis for the notion of a significant change in Jerusalem in the mid-fifth century is a particular reading of the text of Neh 3,381 which assumes a rebuilding of the walls and significant re-population. Perhaps the resettling reported in Neh 11 amounted to very little. As a result, it is quite possible to read Nehemiah as assuming a geographical separation between the temple city of Jerusalem and the governor (Nehemiah’s) residence, perhaps located at Ramat Rahel.382 Finkelstein and Lipschits appear to agree that the basic archaeological data points to Persian-period settlement in Jerusalem in the City of David.383 They disagree, however, in terms of methodology. In addition to placing the narrative of Neh 3 in the Hasmonean period,384 Finkelstein takes the lack of explicit Persian period data elsewhere in a clear excavation context to indicate the lack of inhabitants. Lipschits, on the other hand, posits on the basis of (1) both the logical nature of dwellings on the Ophel between the Temple Mount and the City of David, and (2) Persian-period remains at the valley floor underneath the Ophel to suggest an additional (though small) inhabited area. As a result of their interpretive decisions, Finkelstein only imagines about 500 residents in Jerusalem of the Persian period, while Lipschits posits 1,000–1250. Some further interpretations make more of the evidence that Hellenistic and Roman monumental buildings were built on bedrock, and therefore necessitated the removal of any earlier construction. There is certainly some merit to these hesitations, given the similarities with the situation of the Late Bronze Age in Jerusalem. No indications of large buildings exist in Jerusalem for that period, yet the city turns up as one of the prominent city-states in the Amarna Letters.

380 For translation, see “Request for Letter of Recommendation (First Draft),” trans. Bezalel Porten (COS 3.51:125–30). 381 Israel Finkelstein, “Jerusalem in the Persian (and Early Hellenistic) Period and the Wall of Nehemiah,” JSOT 32 (2008): 501–4. 382 Peter Altmann, “Tithes for the Clergy and Taxes for the King: State and Temple Contributions in Nehemiah,” CBQ 76 (2014): 215–29. 383 Oded Lipschits, “Persian Period Finds from Jerusalem: Facts and Interpretations,” JHebS 9 (2009): Article 20: 14; Israel Finkelstein, “Persian Period Jerusalem and Yehud: A Rejoinder,” JHebS 9 (2009): Article 24: 10. 384 Finkelstein, “Persian Period Jerusalem and Yehud,” 2.

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All in all, the situation in Jerusalem – with its meager remains on the whole – is not always the same as in the rest of the province. The situation for rural dwellings in the Judean and especially Ramat Rahel is quite different. 4.4.2. Yehud Coinage Coinage adds important insights to the other archaeological data from the Persian period. Exchange in silver and coins took place in Yehud long before Yehud coins themselves were produced; the situation thus paralleled that of the rest of the Levant. Hacksilber is extant from Iron Age II, perhaps even used as currency (i.e., Deut 14:25).385 The oldest coin found in the region generally attributed to Yehud is an Athenian tetradrachm found at Beth-Zur that was minted around 450 BCE.386 Archaeologists at Azeka (Tel Zakariya) found a further Athenian coin dated to 526–430 BCE among scanty Persian period remains.387 It is rather striking, however, how few coins have been found that date to the fifth century. Yehud minted coins appear circa 400 BCE, borrowing Athenian iconography and inscribing them with either YHWD or more often YHD.388 The imitations of Athenian coins are well known: the head of Athena on one side, and the Athenian owl on the other. Actual coins from Athens were inscribed with the letters ΑΘΕ, but local copies often changed this feature (if they changed anything). Two limiting factors to the Yehud coinage are significant: they appear mostly in tiny denominations, and their circulation appears confined primarily to Yehud itself. The logical conclusion is that they were limited to internal use. Meshorer interprets them in view of the Athenian denominations as “obols or half-obols.”389 However, the terminology for the earliest series of small coins should more likely be grh or half-grh,390 which would point to an 385

Oren Tal, “Negotiating Identity in an International Context under Achaemenid Rule: The Indigenous Coinages of Persian-Period Palestine as an Allegory,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context, ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 445. 386 Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 437. It is possible that this settlement belonged to a separate polity, not to Yehud. 387 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 219–20. 388 Mešorer, A Treasury of Jewish Coins, 6–8. Haim Gitler, “Identities of the Indigenous Coinages of Palestine under Achaemenid Rule: The Dissemination of the Image of the Great King,” in More than Men, Less than Gods. Proceedings of the International Colloquium Organized by the Belgian School at Athens (1-2 November 2007), ed. C. C. Lorber, A.D. Chankowski, and P. P. Iossif, Studia Hellenistica 51 (Leuven: Peeters, 2011), 106 adds Achaemenid as the second important influence. 389 Ibid., 17. 390 Tal, “Coin Denominations and Weight Standards in Fourth-Century BCE Palestine”; Cf., however, the critique in Bradley W. Root, “Coinage, War, and Peace in Fourth-Century Yehud,” NEA 68 (2005): 131–34.

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internal system of reference with the weights, though this is not necessary, given the divergence of the coinage and weight systems in Samaria. In addition to the dominant Athenian imagery imitated on the earliest coins and undergoing some development in its reception in Yehud, several other symbols eventually appear: the lily, a royally-crowned head (once with wings), a male head, a horn (perhaps a shofar), an ear, a falcon, and some mythological beasts like griffins. Some of these images allow for clear dating – the crowned head uses the Persian jagged crown implying a date before 333 and a clear tradition history.391 Like the figure with jagged crown, the mythological beasts occur frequently in Persian iconography. Mildenberg calls the falcon and the lily “lokale Schöpfungen,”392 though the falcon can perhaps be seen as an adaptation of Egyptian iconography.393 Nonetheless, the lily and the horn (if a shofar) support the use of local symbols, which deviates from the practice in the northern neighbor, Samaria. Both symbols accord with temple imagery, though, as Wyssmann argues, much of the Yehud imagery remains quite vague, perhaps distancing itself from any particular political or religious entity.394 The most well-known Yehud coin – if indeed from Yehud – is the unique large silver drachma with a male figure on a winged chariot, often compared with Ezek 1. This coin, however, continues to be the only one of its kind iconographically, and the majority of the extant coins were small and meant for internal trade.395 In fact, debate has resurfaced about the attribution of this coin to Yehud.396 Finally, because Athena was depicted on the earliest Yehud coins, deity depictions – if this were to be one – were known in Persian Yehud. If this is a Yehud coin, and if it depicts a deity – even Yahweh, then this might then indicate that functionaries of the Jerusalem Temple were not responsible for the imagery of Yehud’s coins.

391

Gitler, “Identities of the Indigenous Coinages of Palestine under Achaemenid Rule,” 107–10, highlights the centrality of this symbol for the Persian Empire. 392 Mildenberg, “Über die Münzbildnisse in Palästina und Nordwestarabien zur Perserzeit,” 381. 393 Hübner, “The Development of Monetary Systems.” 394 Patrick Wyssmann, “The Coinage Imagery of Samaria and Judah in the Late Persian Period,” in A “Religious Revolution” in Yehud the Material Culture of the Persian Period as a Test Case, ed. Christian Frevel, Katharina Pyschny, and Izak Cornelius, OBO 267 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 2014), 253. 395 Mildenberg, “Über die Münzbildnisse in Palästina und Nordwestarabien zur Perserzeit,” 377–78. 396 Gitler and Tal, The Coinage of Philistia of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BC, 230; Lester L. Grabbe, “Religious and Cultural Boundaries from the Neo-Babylonian to the Early Greek Period: A Context for Iconographic Interpretation,” in A “Religious Revolution” in Yehud the Material Culture of the Persian Period as a Test Case, ed. Christian Frevel, Katharina Pyschny, and Izak Cornelius, OBO 267 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 2014), 27.

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More recently, a further drachma (of four recorded) attributable to Yehud from the early fourth century has appeared, apparently from the hills near Hebron.397 Based on its similarity to Philistine coins, Gitler proposes that this coin was minted in a shared Philistine mint on behalf of the province of Yehud at a time before Jerusalem had developed the technology for minting its own coins.398 The significance of this proposition lies in its further decoupling the links between Judean religious difficulties with the depiction of the deity and this coin. Instead, whether reflecting the iconographic tendencies of its Philistine minters,399 or perhaps like the Pharnabazos Samarian coin, even the affinities of some foreign governor or ruler, such coins still maintain geographic and political connections to Yehud. In the use of some images from its coastal neighbors, images from Tyre, and then the likely development of local images – in addition to the borrowing of foreign Greek topoi – Yehud parts ways from its northern neighbor, Samaria. Given recent data indicating that the Gerizim temple rebuilding dates to this very same period, one might posit some kind of connection between the events: does the parting of the ways in the designated location for a Yahwistic sanctuary bare any influence on different iconographic coinage tendencies? The iconography does not provide definite hints in this regard, yet the possibilities are tantilizing. One can merely speculate on the reason(s) for the introduction of regional coinage, and such musings often call upon larger socio-political events. Tal, for example, posits: … the beginning of Judahite coin minting should be understood against the Achaemenid imperial policy and the reorganization of the southern frontier of the fifth Persian Satrapy once domination of Egypt came to an end, circa 400–343 b.c.e., that is, the administrative role of the (new border) province of Judah in the Achaemenid Empire.400

Yet the Yehud coins were of rather small denominations, and the specific relationship between Persian reorganization and coinage are difficult to identify. Such a position accords better with regard to the satrapal coins linked to Samaria. The miniscule denominations indicate the use of Yehud coins for payment of relatively small amounts to, or among a large number of, recipients. In general, the search for a particular event as the exigency for development may or may not be necessary. One common interpretation, put forth again by Wyssmann, is that the Jerusalem Temple was responsible for, or linked closely to the minting in Yehud, at least for the post-Athena/owl imitations. He supports

397

Haim Gitler, “The Earliest Coin of Judah,” Israel Numismatic Research 6 (2011): 23. Ibid., 25–26. 399 Wyssmann, “The Coinage Imagery of Samaria and Judah,” 244–47. 400 Tal, “Negotiating Identity in an International Context under Achaemenid Rule,” 449 n. 7. 398

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this contention on the basis that there was little commerce in Yehud, and instead the reason for coinage would be linked to Jerusalem as a pilgrimage destination.401 Perhaps indicative of the tentative nature of the link with the temple, he does not argue that the temple is the site of the mint, unlike earlier interpreters. Instead, the link is subtler: …it is fair to assume that the coinage that was produced here was closely related to the sanctuary and was possibly often used to pay fees at the temple. Against this background, the need for a more restrained iconography on the Judean coinage could be explained conclusively.402

While the argument is anything but conclusive, the logic does hold, as far as it goes. Keeping with this perspective, some view the development of small coinage in the Southern Levant as an outgrowth of a head or poll tax. Lemaire posits this development for Idumea, and others have followed him in bringing it into relation with a temple tax like the one found in Neh 10:33.403 One of the reasons given for this determination is that the Yehud coins are generally of a fairly pure silver content.404 Nonetheless, the rise of coinage could also have been more of a result of widespread economic developments – certainly later than in the coastal lowlands or Samaria – in which coinage simply had come to play a larger role in the society through the presence of an increased number of coins, or at least a more accepted role in the thinking of the group of authorities with the wherewithal to make such decisions about minting. As Miller has demonstrated, some market exchange need not require central marketplaces in urban settings: dyadic and polyadic exchange may take place between households and between patrons and dependents in rural locations.405 Therefore, rural households may have embraced the increased presence of coinage, yet little decisive evidence exists. One might extrapolate that the long-distance correspondence between Yehud and Jewish residents of Mesopotamia as well as some relocation of exiles, especially those who managed to enter the ranks of imperial trade, would introduce increased appetites for commercial exchange.406

401

Wyssmann, “The Coinage Imagery of Samaria and Judah,” 255. Ibid. 403 4.3.10. Idumea. 404 Yigal Ronen, “Some Observations on the Coinage of Yehud,” Israel Numismatic Journal 15 (2003): 29. 405 Marvin Lloyd Miller, “Cultivating Curiosity: Methods and Models for Understanding Ancient Economies,” in The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context, ed. M. L. Miller, E. Ben Zvi, and G. N. Knoppers (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 6–9. 406 On the connections between exiles and returnees, cf. Peter R. Bedford, “Diaspora: Homeland Relations in Ezra-Nehemiah,” VT 52 (2002): 147–65. For the rise of certain Judahite families, see Astola, “On the Road: Judean Royal Merchants in Babylonia.” 402

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Two further points can be made from this data as well. First, in comparison with other spheres of influence, Greece (especially Athens) exerted more influence over Yehud’s coins than in any other sphere early on, no later than the fifth century.407 Second, the influence did not necessarily imply political domination. Ambar-Armon and Kloner note: “The very decision to imitate an Athenian coin rather than a Persian or some other coin, or even designing a new coin, demonstrates that the need was purely economic.”408 While the adjective purely is something of a rhetorical flourish, this point requires a more complex view on the relationship between the authority to mint coinage and political authority, one that suggests that the relationship between these two forms of influence can develop and evolve over time.409 Such evolution appears in the Yehud coins with the names of governors and priests. The earliest Yehud coins only contain the name of the province. The internal developments of the coins also offer to illuminate the internal power structures within Yehud by adding the titles or issuers names: ‫יחזקיה‬, ‫יחזקיה‬ ‫הפחה‬, and ‫יחנן הכהן‬. Interpreters place the first two either in the middle of the fourth century or on either side of the Macedonian conquest.410 Ronan’s work that takes the weights of these coins into consideration appears decisive for their dates. Instead of accepting proposals of early or mid-fourth century dates, the ‫ יחזקיה‬coins – both with and without the title ‫ – הפחה‬belong later.411 Their weight accords with the quarter-obal from the Macedonian period rather than with the half-gerah from the Persian period. Furthermore, their imagery changes, also showing they should instead be dated no earlier than the very end of the Persian period, perhaps even under Macedonian or Diadochean hegemony. While Fried argues for an early date – 370 BCE – for the ‫ יחנן הכהן‬coin,412 it more likely emerges from a much later date. Her argument fails to take the metrology of the coin into account, thereby missing the fact that it fits much better into the Ptolemaic, rather than the Persian-period Yehud system.413 407 Einat Ambar-Armon and Amos Kloner, “Archaeological Evidence of Links between the Aegean World and the Land of Israel in the Persian Period,” in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods, ed. Y. Levin, LSTS 65 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 3–4. 408 Ibid., 6. 409 Note the similar statement by Tal, “Negotiating Identity in an International Context under Achaemenid Rule,” 453. 410 For a quick overview of positions, see Haim Gitler and Catharine Lorber, “A New Chronology for the Yehizkiyah Coins of Judah,” Swiss Numismatic Revue 87 (2008): 62– 63. 411 Yigal Ronen, “The Weight Standards of the Judean Coinage in the Late Persian and Early Ptolemaic Period,” NEA 61 (1998): 125. He dates them to the “Macedonian occupation.” 412 Lisbeth S. Fried, “A Silver Coin of Yohanan Hakkôhen,” Transeu 26 (2003): 65–85. 413 Gitler and Lorber, “A New Chronology for the Yehizkiyah Coins of Judah,” 69.

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In sum, I understand the data to indicate that Yehud coinage itself appeared quite late in the Persian period, and this coinage was relatively unimportant for the economy of the province. It only gathered steam as a marker of authority as Greek hegemony was imminent. If I am correct in concluding that it was basically used internally with its weight measurements in gerahs rather than obols in the Persian period, then it could serve to undergird in in-group geographical sense of community. Some of the iconography displayed a connection with the biblical symbols (esp. the lily), which could also suggest economics as an important realm for religious-communal symbolism, though without any necessary connection to the Jerusalem Temple in the Persian period. 4.4.3. Changes in the Fourth Century – Historical and Economic As already mentioned, drastic changes took place in the political landscape of the southern Levant in the fourth century BCE. The century began with the emergence of Egyptian independence, supported by the date to year 5 in TADAE B7.2, referring to 400 BCE.414 This development came about while civil war between Cyrus the Younger and Artaxerxes II raged elsewhere in the Empire. Given these events, and then other hostilities in Asia Minor and Cyprus, Persia turned its attention to Egypt only in the 380s.415 In northern Palestine Akko (Acre) served as an important staging base to gather forces, which suggests that Persian forces increasingly inundated Palestine as a whole.416 Returning to the chronology, it appears that after experiencing defeat at the Nile in the 380s, then the Persian armed forces in the region returned to bases in Palestine until the last year of Artaxerxes II’s reign.417 Then, in 359 BCE, Egypt went on the offensive into Palestine, but due to inner turmoil, the offensive unraveled.418 Diodorus claims that the Egyptians set the region of Syro-Phoenicia on fire, but there is no evidence in the destruction layers of, for example, Arad or Beersheba to support this claim.419 Furthermore, there are also no destruction layers in Yehud, and it is not clear that such layers along the coast should be associated with the events of the Tennes Rebellion of the mid-fourth century either.420 Samaria also appears to 414

A document dating to 401 BCE, however, records the date in terms of the reign of Artaxerses, showing that Egypt was not completely under Amyrtaeus’s (the name of the Egyptian king according to Herodotus 3.15) control at this point. 415 Isocrates Paneg. 140; cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 652–55. 416 Diodorus 15.29. 417 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 655. 418 Cf. Diodorus 15.90.2; Xenophon, Ages. 2.28. 419 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 665. Cf. Diodrous, 15. 90.3. 420 Lester L. Grabbe, “Archaeology and Archaiologias: Relating Excavations to History in Fourth-Century b.c.e. Palestine,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E, ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and R. Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 130–32.

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have remained on the sidelines: its leadership also remained in the same family throughout the century according to Wadi Daliyeh’s quite meager finds.421 Had Samaria rebelled, the governorship likely would have be transferred to another figure or family. The loss and recapture of Egypt was highly influential, however, on the archaeology and economy of Palestine in the fourth century.422 Thus, from the 380s on, there was considerable Persian military presence in Palestine. Feeding and equipping this army must have impacted the region significantly. Development of an administrative center took place at Lachish. Military installations have also been found in border areas that were later abandoned, likely when Egypt was re-conquered (in 343 BCE).423 Numerous grain silos and other grain storage facilities were found at sites such as Tel es-Sera', Tel Halif, Tell elḤesi, and Tel Haror. Edelman comments … it is likely that this massing of grain supplies at the edge of the desert between Cisjordan and Egypt was intended primarily for use in feeding troops being sent overland into Egypt and only secondarily for selling to caravans. Yehud was being relied upon to contribute grain annually for any such Persian enterprises.424

Thus, from 400 and to a greater degree from the 380s on, there was significant Persian military presence in Palestine. Feeding and equipping this army must have impacted the region quite substantially. It appears that the Empire directed the construction or increased fortification of a number of sites from Lachish through the southern Shephelah and northern Negev at this time. Edelman places the headquarters in Tell Jemmeh, close to the coast,425 and regular settlements appear every 10–15 km.426 Moving still later, to the decisive events for the entire Levant, Alexander’s conquest of the region in the 330s denotes a decisive break in the political history of Palestine. However, as striking as this turn of events proved to be for Palestine’s, and more specifically Yehud’s, history, one might legitimately question its exemplary status with regard to Yehud’s economy. In fact, even the local political and cultural trajectories in Yehud appear far more stable: In the historical and archaeological research of the Hellenistic East, the term break is often used as a synonym for the Hellenization process, and continuity is often used as a synonym for local traditionalism. The province of Judah, based on our understanding of the archaeological data, retained traditional cultural patterns during the transition between the Persian and Hellenistic periods.427 421

Stern, “The Persian Empire and the Political and Social History of Palestine,” 76. Lipschits and Tal, “The Settlement Archaeology of the Province of Judah,” 45. 423 Fantalkin and Tal, “Redating Lachish Level I,” 400. 424 Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple, 321. 425 Edelman, “Apples and Oranges,” 140. 426 Cf. Fantalkin and Tal, “Redating Lachish Level I,” 181. 427 Lipschits and Tal, “The Settlement Archaeology of the Province of Judah,” 48. 422

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This continuity suggests that the change in political regimes need not have deeply effected the economic structures and related economic conceptions in operating in the biblical texts that span this political caesura. As a result, regardless of whether one dates the books of Ezra-Nehemiah in the Late Persian Period or the Early Hellenistic Period, their economic conceptions represent quite similar economic scenarios on the ground. 4.4.4. Conclusions from the Material Culture and Coins Before discussion of current theories for Persian-period economics of Yehud in the following section, what can one glean as an overview from the archaeological and coinage data far in order to articulate its contribution to the nature of the Yehud economy? The archaeological remains – paltry as they may be – point to a predominantly rural Yehud province throughout the entire Persian period. This record of remains sets Yehud off from its eastern seaboard neighbors in Philistia as well as from the remains in Samaria to the north. The one similar situation occurs in the Negev, which would become Idumea. The region of the southern Shephelah, however, represents a special situation in that Egyptian independence around the turn of the fourth century meant that this region became the southwestern edge of the entire Persian Empire. Fortifications and grain provisions for soldiers in the area were the result. The rural nature of Yehud is furthered by a second, and similarly important conclusion: the population of the province cratered in comparison to the previous Iron Ages and to the later Hellenistic period. Land was not in short supply as a result. However, according to the archaeological surveys, around 25% of all rural sites represent new settlements, that is, sites unoccupied in the Iron Age. Thus, there seemed to be some kind of motivation to do the extra work of clearing new fields and digging new cisterns. Affiliation to the traditional Judahite social, political, and religious narrative emerges as a live question. One can surmise that economic interactions present one sphere in which such questions received answers. While the evidence from these rural homesteads suggests self-sufficient agriculture as the primary realm of economics, some exchange of dyadic (between households) and polyadic (between patrons and clients) likely occurs. These exchanges take place for utensils and other goods that households could not or did not want to take the time and effort to produce themselves, and perhaps for labor as well. Second, when turning to the few monumental sites from the period, their internal relationships to the economics and religio-politics of Yehud remain muted. Lachish, though earlier (in the eighth to early sixth centuries) a significant Judahite center, may have been fortified as part of the Idumean provincial center in the early fourth century with its Achaemenid-style remains, but in any case appears quite separate from Yehud. En Gedi represented a different economic

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sphere as an imperial estate dedicated to the provisioning of the imperial table. The third and most important archaeological site in Yehud is Ramat Rahel. This site dominates the monumental archaeology of the entire period. At a time when the rest of the province offers small and rural homestead structures, an entirely new palace wing and lush gardens were constructed on this hilltop. A rather significant unknown in the conceptions of the province appears in the archaeology of Jerusalem, yet most interpretations of the biblical text assume a growing and somewhat prosperous city at least from around the middle of the fifth century (Nehemiah’s time) onward. However, current archaeological estimates conclude that the population consisted of around 500–1,250 residents. One must place an asterisk after any conclusion about Jerusalem, given the inability to excavate the Temple Mount, yet there currently seems little archaeological support for Jerusalem’s prominence during the Persian period. The inability to excavate the Temple Mount leaves the assertion of the biblical texts that the construction of the Second Temple occurred in the late sixth century as the best possible conclusion. Any visions of considerable settlement in addition find little support in the finds to date. Furthermore, neither does the Yehud coinage support the clear buildup of Jerusalem or the dominant power of its priesthood prior to the middle of the fourth century or perhaps even the Macedonian and later periods.428 Again in contrast to the lowland polities along the seaboard and Samaria, Yehud begins developing its own coinage only around 400 BCE, and at this point it exhibits borrowed especially Athenian and also some Persian imagery, which suggests distance from Jerusalem’s monotheistic Yahweh temple apparatus. However, both the high silver content and later inclusion of the lily and shofar, symbols linked to Israelite/Judahite traditions, do make some kind of closer relationship with the Temple possible. The closest connection to the Jerusalem Temple appears in the naming of the authority behind the coins as Yohanan the priest, though this coin likely emerges after the change to Greek hegemony. As a result of this evidence, nothing requires the intimate connection of the Yehud coinage to Jerusalem, and one might instead place its authority in Persianperiod Yehud in Ramat Rahel, though the actual mint facility need not even have been in Yehud itself. On the whole, only the loss of Egypt around 400 BCE and the repeated attempts by the Persians to reconquer that unruly province seem to have accelerated the adoption of coinage and perhaps the slow and steady demographic and exchange growth at the tail end of the Persian period as well. The archaeological and coinage evidence points to a quite rural province that gradually developed in

428

Peter R. Bedford, “Temple Funding and Priestly Authority in Achaemenid Judah,” in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. J. Stökl and C. Waerzeggers, BZAW 478 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 336–51.

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terms of demography and rural homesteads, many of which demonstrate continuity with earlier agricultural settlements, though a significant portion of which did not. The economy was quite self-sustaining in terms of agricultural production, though the gradual adoption of a self-contained coinage points to the development of internal commercial exchange. The center of this polity was found in Ramat Rahel, though Jerusalem occupied an important subsidiary role as an organizing cultic center that also took part in the internal economic exchange system.

4.5. Persian-Period Economics in Yehud 4.5. Persian-Period Economics in Yehud

How can one bring together this archaeological evidence with the historical, and literary evidence to evaluate proposed views of the Yehud economy? Any attempt to address the economics of the Persian Period Jewish communities should first of all consider the overall political status of the Jews and Yehud within the Persian Empire as a whole. As there is an absence of Persian and other extra-biblical written records for Yehud, such an investigation is necessarily based on the appropriate biblical texts in combination with general Persian period documents addressing other parts of the empire. One important biblically-oriented discussion is the widely-discussed Persian-period fixation of the Pentateuch as the Torah.429 This determination arises from the juxtaposition of several factors: (1) Ezra 7:25 professes to present an edict by Artaxerxes that authorizes the “Jewish” Torah (‫ )דתי אלהך‬as the measure by which to rule the people of “Beyond the River” province: Ezra 7:25 ‫ואנת עזרא‬ ‫כחכמת אלהך‬ ‫די־בידך‬ ‫מני שׁפטין ודינין‬ ‫די־להון דאינין לכל־עמה די בעבר נהרה‬ ‫לכל־ידעי דתי אלהך‬ ‫ודי לא ידע‬ ‫תהודעון‬

Now you, Ezra, according to the wisdom of your God [that is] in your hand, appoint magistrates and judges that will be judges for all people in Abar Naharah for those that know the laws of your God. And concerning whoever does not know, you shall make [it] known.430

429 See especially James W. Watts, ed., Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch, SBL symposium series 17 (Atlanta: SBL, 2001); Alexander Fantalkin and Oren Tal, “The Canonization of the Pentateuch: When and Why? (Part I),” ZAW 124 (2012): 1–18; Kyong-Jin Lee, The Authority and Authorization of Torah in the Persian Period, CBET 64 (Leuven: Peeters, 2011). 430 This 2nd masc. pl. causitive makes more sense if amended to a singular, following H. H. Schraeder and J. Begrich’s suggestion in BHK, appealling to the LXX διδάξεις.

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4. The Economic Background of the Persian Period

The degree to which this edict (7:12–26) represents an actual historical edict from Artaxerxes is, of course, hotly debated. Nonetheless, it does seem to refer to some version of the Torah, which, if the texts of Ezra-Nehemiah itself can be taken as evidence, reflects various Deuteronomistic and Priestly passages at a minimum.431 Additionally, there is sufficient evidence that the Torah/Pentateuch was substantially completed and put together in the Persian period, and it seems unlikely that it was merely internal motivations that lead to this accomplishment.432 Either Persian encouragement, or at least Persian examples likely paved the way. Schmid notes, Denn Esr 7 zeigt, dass dem Verfasser dieses Textes Vorgänge der imperialen Autorisierung lokaler Normen bekannt waren – wie sie auch ohne weiteres in unterschiedlichen Spielarten aus weiteren Quellen belegbar sind – und dass er die Inkraftsetzung der Tora durch Esra seinen Lesern gegenüber entsprechend präsentierte. Ob das in historischem oder historisierend-fiktivem Sinn auszuwerten ist, muss vorerst dahingestellt bleiben.433

Schmid’s argument effectively circumvents the historical quagmire of whether there was an actual historical event behind the edict, or whether some Jewish (Persian or Hellenistic period) author simply made it up. It is indisputable that the Persians governed at least in part through the acknowledgment of local customs and laws, as supported most prominently by the Xanthras or Looten Trilingual text from Lycia (ca. 335). This text recognizes the establishment of a local temple cult and the authority of its regulations of the local population.434 As noted by many, these texts do not provide exact analogies to the claimed

431 I.e., Deut 7:1–6 in Ezra 10; Exod 3:22, 11:2, 12:35 in Ezra 1:4; Deut 7; 23:4–9 in Ezra 9:1–2; Lev 18:25ff. in Ezra 9:11; Num 18 in Neh 8. Cf. Jacob M. Myers, Ezra, Nehemiah (AB 15; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965), lix–lxii. Hugh G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah (WBC; Waco, Tex: Word Books Publisher, 1985), 105, envisions Ezra's law in 7:25 as D. 432 See Erhard Blum, “Esra, die Mosetora und die persische Politik,” in Religion und Religionskontakte im Zeitalter der Achämeniden, ed. R. G. Kratz, vol. 22, VWGT (Gütersloh: Kaiser, Gütersloher Verlaghaus, 2002), 252–54., 433 Konrad Schmid, “Persische Reichsautorisation und Tora,” TRu 71 (2006): 505. Schmid elsewhere notes that a reason for the break in Deut 34 between Torah and Former Prophets, which is somewhat unnatural as far as the narrative is concerned (the land is first taken in Joshua), must somehow be identified. Persian policy would provide an adequate solution for this question. See Schmid, Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments, 174. 434 André Lemaire, “The Xanthos Trilingual Revisited,” in Solving Riddles and Untying Knots: Biblical, Epigraphic, and Semitic Studies in Honor of Jonas C. Greenfield, ed. Z. Zevit and et al. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995), 423–32. Additional evidence could be garnered from the PFT addressing the so-called “lan-ritual,” which was a non-Persian rite celebrated by the magi; cf. Morrison Handley-Schachler, “The Lan Ritual in the Persepolis Fortification Texts,” in Studies in Persian History: Essays in Memory of David M. Lewis, ed. M. Brosius and A. Kuhrt, Achaemenid History 11 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 1998).

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Persian support for the construction and implementation of a legal and narrative ethnic founding document. These general guidelines do, however, suggest that both internal (Judean) and external (imperial) impulses led to the establishment of the Torah in the Persian period.435 The situation with regard to imperial management of the economy is similar. Albertz contends, for example, that the Persian Egypt appears to have been run in a manner quite similar to Persis, suggesting that the various satrapies mirrored the highest imperial court in terms of economic structure.436 He continues by noting that Ezra and Esther mirror the use of treasuries found in the Elephantine archives. His conclusion is that: “Man mag zur Historizität des KyrosEdikts und des Esrafirmans stehen, wie man will, und man mag die Höhe der von den königlichen Schatzhäusern geleisteten Zahlungen für den Jerusalemer Tempelbau anzweifeln, grundsätzlich aber bewegten sie sich durchaus im Rahmen der auch sonst bezeugten staatlichen Retributionswirtschaft der Perser.”437 These arguments suggest the following: (1) that historical perceptions found in Ezra-Nehemiah should be taken seriously as reflecting conditions under the Persian Empire; and (2) that one of the specific perceptions is that local communities could be granted a broad degree autonomy with regard to setting up their own customs and legal standards. Such customs and standards generally maintained or adapted longstanding traditions of the various regions. This relative autonomy also carried over into in the economic sphere, given the evidence from the coins. Having touched on the methodological question of the use of biblical sources, I now build on the overview of the material culture and turn to current proposals for understanding the economics of Yehud. Several established approaches to economics in Persian period Yehud proceed from their understanding of the situation in Babylonia during the same period and construct a similar – derivative – picture for the sub-province of Yehud. One example of this approach is found in the scholarship of Joel Weinberg, who developed his “Bürger-Tempel-Gemeinde” as a model for understanding the economic, political, and social dynamics at play in the (re-) establishment of the Judean community beginning with Cyrus’ edict in 538.438 His model, 435

Carr, Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 205ff. A conclusion also reached by Briant, as mentioned above (n. 361); cf. From Cyrus to Alexander, 471. 437 Albertz, “Zur Wirtschaftspolitik des Perserreiches,” 346. 438 Joel P. Weinberg, The Citizen-Temple Community, trans. D. L. Smith-Christopher, JSOTSup. 151 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992); Joel P. Weinberg, “Netînîm und »Söhne der Sklaven Salomos« Im 6. – 4. Jh. v. u. Z.,” ZAW 87 (1975): 355–71; Joel P. Weinberg, “Probleme der sozialökonomischen Struktur Judäas vom 6. Jahrhundert v. u. Z. bis zum 1. Jahrhundert u. Z.,” Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte 1 (1973): 237–51; Joel P. Weinberg, “Das Bēit ’Āḇōt im 6.-4. Jh. v. u. Z.,” VT 23 (1973): 400–414; Joel P. Weinberg, “Der ‛am Hā’āreṣ des 6.–4. Jh. v. u. Z.,” Klio 56 (1972): 325–35; Joel P. Weinberg, “Demographische 436

180

4. The Economic Background of the Persian Period

given the scarcity of extra-biblical texts and archaeological evidence from Palestine for the period, begins largely with the biblical texts and with extra-biblical texts concerning various cities and temple-oriented groups throughout the Persian Empire. The large temple cities of Babylonia – i.e., Babylon, Sippar, Dilbat, Borsippa, and Nippur – form a large part of the theoretical framework for his description of the Yehud community. Weinberg’s essential thesis is that the returning exiles do not form the entire population residing in Yehud, but they are rather a separate community in Yehud that received tax immunity from the Persian king. At the time of Ezra and Nehemiah (placing both in the mid-fifth century) the community took on more political independence from Samaria.439 The strength of Weinberg’s formulation lies in its ability to explain the conflicts portrayed in Ezra 4:4–23 and 9– 10, especially 10:8 (“all his possessions will become ḥerem, and he will be excluded from the congregation of the golah”), where community belonging might be related to land ownership.440 While justifiably receiving attention in recent scholarship, Weinberg’s understanding has encountered deserved critique on several points. His population estimates for the province as a whole are far too high, so the BürgerTempel-Gemeinde would not likely have formed a separate entity within the province and its administration. Furthermore, Yehud should be viewed as a separate province much earlier, which supports this argument.441 And while Bedford adjudges the historical value of Ezra 1–6 quite differently than Williamson,442 both concur that there is little evidence for the conflict between immigrants and longer-term residents in Yehud during the time of Cyrus and Darius. Williamson notes, “… as has already been indicated, there need not have been such a stark division between returning exiles and those who had remained in the land in the first years of Achaemenid rule as has often been supposed.”443 Furthermore, the role of the Jerusalem temple can be debated. Notizen zur Geschichte der nachexilischen Gemeinde in Juda,” Klio 54 (1972): 45–59; Houston, Contending for Justice, 50, only mentions him in one footnote; Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis does not name him in his index or bibiography . 439 Weinberg, The Citizen-Temple Community, 117, 133. 440 The word, however, in Ezra 10:8 is ‫רכושׁ‬, however, which implies moveable property. See Peter Ross Bedford, “On Models and Texts: A Response to Blenkinsopp and Petersen,” in Persian Period, ed. P. R. Davies, 2 vols., JSOTSup. 117 / Second Temple studies 1 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991), 1:156. 441 Hugh G. M. Williamson, “Judah and the Jews,” in Studies in Persian History: Essays in Memory of David M. Lewis, ed. M. Brosius and A. Kuhrt, Achaemenid History 11 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 1998), 150–59. 442 Ibid., 159–60; Peter Ross Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, JSJSup 65 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 302–8; Hugh G. M. Williamson, “The Concept of Israel in Transition,” in The World of Ancient Israel: Sociological, Anthropological and Political Perspectives, ed. R. E. Clements (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 141–61. 443 Williamson, “Judah and the Jews,” 159.

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181

Even in the major temple cities such as Sippar, the temple often played a decidedly smaller economic role than Weinberg imagines.444 Finally, Jerusalem’s temple likely functioned quite differently from those in Babylonia, given the latter’s considerable land possessions.445 One more recent, but somewhat similar engagement with economic questions appears in several publications by Joachim Schaper.446 He attempts to trace the politics and social dynamics behind the texts related to the economics in Persian-period Yehud. For example, he, like others, adduces comparisons with Babylonian temples, where people paid taxes to the nearest temple, and puts this in juxtaposition with ‫ יוצר‬in Zech 11:13 (“caster, founder,” as the LXX translates) to conclude: “Treasury and foundry were at the core of the temple administration in its function as a fiscal instrument.”447 He argues (correctly in my view, and widely accepted) that the temple also functioned as a storehouse in the preexilic period, an assertion supported by the various statements in the books of Kings that the kings took precious metal and goods from the temple to pay war reparations or tribute.448 No doubt the Jerusalem Temple with its chambers (‫ )לשׁכות‬attempted to play a similar role once rebuilt as well. The difficulty with his argument, however, is that it puts more weight on the ‫ יוצר‬of Zech 11:13 than this term can bear: it is very speculative to build a case for a foundry “at the core of the temple administration in its function as a fiscal instrument” of the Persian administration on the basis of this verse. The Babylonian evidence is likewise limited, and the assumption that the Jerusalem temple functioned in the same way as the Babylonian ones is highly uncertain. The Babylonian temples were not destroyed, and they already had land holdings and received tithes at the time of the Persian rise to power.449 Furthermore, citing Jursa, Bedford notes that even the Babylonian temples only received tithes from the lands they owned. If – and that is quite problematic – the Jerusalem Temple was similar, then, given its very marginal land holdings, then the tithes it took in (and which then would be sent on to Persia) were incredibly 444

Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 8. Bedford, “The Economic Role Of The Jerusalem Temple,” 5–13. 446 Joachim Schaper, “The Jerusalem Temple as an Instrument of the Achaemenid Fiscal Administration,” VT 45 (1995): 528–39; idem, “The Temple Treasury Committee in the Times of Nehemiah and Ezra,” VT 47 (1997): 200–206; idem, Priester und Leviten im achämenidischen Juda; idem, “Numismatik, Epigraphik, alttestamentliche Exegese und die Frage nach der politischen Verfassung des achämenidischen Juda,” ZDPV 118 (2002): 150– 68; idem, “Geld und Kult im Deuteronomium,” JBTh (2006): 45–54. 447 Schaper, “The Jerusalem Temple as an Instrument of the Achaemenid Fiscal Administration,” 536. Cf. Schaper, Priester und Leviten im achämenidischen Juda, 137. 448 Schaper, Priester und Leviten im Achämenidischen Juda, 139. Cf. Keel, Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus. 449 Similarly, Peter Ross Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah (Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 65; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 226–27. 445

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4. The Economic Background of the Persian Period

minimal.450 Whether the Jerusalem Temple minted coins in the Persian period – at least prior to its final decades – is also unclear. These problems present significant difficulties for both Weinberg and Schaper’s proposals. Schaper’s argument shares many attributes with the contention by Carol and Eric Meyers that the Temple functioned as the collection site for Judean tax deliveries.451 The archaeological evidence known thus far – though the question of what lies under the Temple Mount may never be answered – does not match up. The findings from Ramat Rahel, however, show that this site played the part of a primary tax collection location from the Neo-Assyrian period until its destruction under the Hasmoneans.452 According to Lipschits, Ramat Rahel collected taxes in kind (wine, oil, and possibly mead) for the Assyrian, Babylonia, Persian, and Hellenistic Empires.453 This evidence significantly reduces the necessity for the Jerusalem Temple to play a decisive role in tax collection for the Persian authorities. Apparent from Schaper’s work is the broader question of the Jerusalem Temple’s role in economic (and politico-economic) administration of the Yehud province after the fall of Jerusalem and throughout the Persian Period. The high priests, once their role had been established, exercised significant power during the Hellenistic and later periods, but theories abound with regard to the date and nature of the beginnings of this development. Bedford argues It is only in the Hellenistic period that the preeminent authority of the priesthood, especially the high priest, in religious and civil matters is evidenced. The evidence regarding the status of the high priest before the Hellenistic period is very slight and cannot support the contention that the authority of the priesthood was growing throughout the Achaemenid Persian period at the expense of the Persian-appointed governor.454

While there is little question that the biblical texts – Haggai, Zechariah, Ezra, and Nehemiah – highlight the presence and some level of authority for governors such as Zerubbabel and Nehemiah, their relationship and authority compared to the priests cannot be pinned down. The role of the high priest and the temple in administrative and economic issues may be comparatively meager in the light of the recent finds in Ramat Rahel. While Joshua/Jeshua appears in Ezra 1–6, Haggai, and Zech 3; 6, the rest of Ezra-Nehemiah do not address an 450

82.

Bedford, “The Economic Role of the Jerusalem Temple In Achaemenid Judah,” 81–

451 Carol L. Meyers and Eric M. Meyers, Haggai, Zechariah 1-8 a New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 25B (New York: Doubleday, 1987). 452 Lipschits, “Archaeological Facts, Historical Speculations and the Date of the LMLK Storage Jars.” 453 Oded Lipschits, “Ramat Rahel and Other Indications for the Administration in Judah during the ‘Exilic’ Period” (presented at the SBL Annual Meeting, San Francisco, November 20, 2011). 454 Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, 202–3.

4.5. Persian-Period Economics in Yehud

183

economic administrative role for such a figure.455 Jehonan ‫ כהנא רבא‬appears in TADAE A4.7.18 as one of several priests from whom the Elephantine Jewish community has elicited support for their rebuilding efforts, yet this letter is actually addressed to the governor, Bagavahya. As stated above, the priest appears on Yehud coinage only as early as the mid-fourth century, indicating that there was some development within the Persian period. So the priest(s) only rise to importance quite late, perhaps even after Alexander’s invasion. However, questions arise with regard to this proposal, as a result, on how to date these biblical texts, what historical period their narratives reflect, and how the prominence of the High Priest in the Torah might relate. The evidence from Ramat Rahel strengthens the case for locating the administrative center of Yehud – and with it the economic center – at this location just south of Jerusalem. The richness of the archaeological finds, especially when contrasted to the paltry Persian period remains excavated from Jerusalem, show which location appeared to have the upper hand during the fifth– fourth centuries. This observation also calls into question hypotheses locating the earliest Yehud coin production in Jerusalem.456 Building on my sketch and analysis above (Sections 1.3 and 3.1.), several further accounts of the Persian-period Yehud economics should be mentioned. First, the notion of an “ancient” class society arises from the work of Kippenberg.457 He investigates the developments from the monarchic to the Persian period, hypothesizing a move from clan-controlled production and distribution to wider circles of control (like the tribe). This development would then have brought about a polarization of wealth into aristocrats and indebted farmers within the larger ancient Yehudite society.458 It bears some similarities to Chaney and Premnath’s command economy for the preexilic period. This theory fails to take into consideration the importance of the various external pressures of the various empires that exercised their influence in Syro-Palestine prior to the Greeks.459

455

Ibid., 204–5. Leo Mildenberg, “Über das Kleingeld in der persischen Provinz Judäa,” in Palästina in vorhellenistischer Zeit, Handbuch der Archäologie 2,1 (Munich: Beck, 1988), 725. Cf. Above Section 4.4.2. 457 Kippenberg, Religion und Klassenbildung im antiken Judäa. He states his thesis clearly (ibid., 12–13): “Die religiöse Tradition – so die Hypothese dieser Arbeit – ist in diesem Prozeß mit den beiden antagonistischen Tendenzen von Klassenbildung und Solidarität in Verbindung getreten. In der Herausbildung dieser beiden – in ihren Inhalten und ihren sozialen Funktionen divergierenden – Traditionskomplexe ist auch die Rolle bestimmter religiöser Inhalte in den judäischen Widerstandsbewegungen gegründet.” 458 Ibid., 36, 57–58. 459 Houston, Contending for Justice, 34. 456

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4. The Economic Background of the Persian Period

One further and helpful overview of the questions in play comes from Milevski’s direct discussion of the economics of Yehud during the Persian period.460 He catalogs the various taxes or tributes that would fall upon the inhabitants of Yehud: the tithe (‫ – מעשׂר‬Neh 10:33, 40; 11:44; 13:4, 5, 12); the “sustenance of the governor” (‫ – לחם הפחה‬Neh 5:14); the civil or military work (‫פלך‬ – Neh 3),461 and the various imperial taxes (‫מנדה‬, ‫בלו‬, and ‫ – הלך‬Ezra 4:13, 20; 7:24; Neh 5:4; 6:18). From this discussion he concludes that the “Asiatic mode of production,” coming from Marx, is the most fitting model. He seems to identify two particular layers in Yehud society. The first is communally controlled villages and lands with nominal, hereditary ownership: he points to the ‫כפרים‬ of Ono, also known as the “vale of the craftsmen” in Neh 11:35, as evidence for specialization in certain crafts in particular villages.462 Following Fried, he contends that the Judean inhabitants had little power in their own province, while the nobles (‫ סגנים‬and ‫ )חרים‬were at least primarily foreigners, who were operatives of the satrapal officials and the Persian Empire and wielded the actual power in the region.463 Fried’s argument is built on the premise that although the extant names of the governors of Yehud generally bear Yahwistic names, they should be seen first and foremost as representatives of the Persian Empire. As such, they sought to concentrate as much power into the hands of that empire as possible.464 The problem with Milevski and Fried’s approaches, however, are their overreliance on the theoretical model (Eisenstaedt’s in Fried’s case, and Marx in Milevski’s). Their analyses reduce the concerns of the texts and individuals into the power dynamics at work, which also necessitates explaining away any possible goodwill or ethnic solidarity on the part of, for example, Nehemiah. The complexity of the economic developments early on in Babylonia, which I expect slowly made their way to Yehud, would include both some communal good will and the entrepreneurial families found in the Jewish communities in Babylonia.465 As I have touched on above, Houston opts for an economic structure that he calls the “Patronage System,” especially after the exile. He points to the drastic decline in the rural standard of living on the basis of archaeological finds, on the one hand, and for the loss of extended family support structures, which lead to the importance of the patronage structure as an alternative (cf. Lev 25, Neh

460 Milevski, “Palestine’s Economic Formation.” I will address his conclusions in the analysis of individual texts below. 461 Aaron Demsky, “‘Pelekh’ in Nehemiah 3,” IEJ 33 (1983): 242–44. 462 Milevski, “Palestine’s Economic Formation,” 147. 463 Ibid., 155. 464 Fried, The Priest and the Great King, 188. 465 See the recent work of Laurie Pearce. SBL Annual Meeting, San Diego, CA, 2014.

4.5. Persian-Period Economics in Yehud

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5).466 Guillaume similarly finds this system helpful, and he interprets even Deut 15 to be at home in a patronage system as well.467 One question Houston and Guillaume do not answer adequately is the use, in Deut 15 for example, of “brother-language” in which they interpret patronage to be at work. This language could fit equally well in the preexilic setting of the eighth-seventh century in an attempt to solidify Judahite (Israelite) identity after the fall of the Northern Kingdom and destruction of most of Judah by Sennacherib. The attempt to forge a sense of kindred belonging fits well, however, with both the pre- and the postexilic settings. One difficulty in setting it in the postexilic period might be Houston’s attempt to separate patronage from both kinship and from the monarchy. A better direction might be the overlap of such societal structures. It is telling in this regard that Schloen’s monumental House of the Father appears nowhere in Houston’s work and only once in Guillaume’s because Schloen maintains a thorough-going importance for “familial” structures.468 A second problem for Houston’s understanding is that the archaeology of rural areas points to a considerable amount of continuity beyond the immediate area surrounding Jerusalem in the Persian period. If, as Lipschits argues, the rest of Yehud remains at a fairly consistent (low) level of economic wellbeing, then there is little need to postulate the development of a new social system to cope with the situation.469 The return of at least a somewhat meaningfully sized group from Babylon, however, could bring about such a development. Guillaume adds an important element missing from Houston’s reconstruction. He notes that land was in abundance in the ancient world, while labor was scarce.470 As a theoretical basis, Guillaume employs both the evidence from the Ottoman and pre-Ottoman land tenure laws, and the archaeological advances represented in the work of Lipschits undergird his contention.471 The use of the Ottoman distinctions between the relatively restricted category of mulk (private property limited to houses and gardens), mīrī (state-owned land on which farmers have usufruct), and mawāt (uncultivated land at some dis-

466

Houston, Contending for Justice, 48, 50–51. He also allows for the beginnings of the patronage system in the urban settings of the preexilic period, but he does not seem to see them as significant. 467 Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 199–212. 468 Schloen, The House of the Father; cf. Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 28. 469 On page 79 470 Also for Babylonia in the sixth centuries and following, according to G. van Driel, Elusive Silver: In Search of a Role for a Market in an Agrarian Environment, Uitgaven van het Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten te Leiden 95 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2002), 163. 471 Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 36, 42–43. Note the discussion of archaeological developments above.

186

4. The Economic Background of the Persian Period

tance from human inhabited land) allow Guillaume to open new vistas of interpretation.472 The vast expanses of arable mawāt-type land restricted the underlying impulse for agricultural intensification. Ancient Levantine farmers, especially in Yehud after 587 BCE, had more land available to them than they could cultivate, which casts the importance of any particular plot in a different light.473 Also from the earlier Islamic conceptions of land tenure and ownership, he presents “musha‘” as the decisive category that can advance scholarly understanding.474 This term is used “… to designate communal land allotted temporarily by lottery between shareholders.”475 It is periodically redistributed among the community. Important to understand is that it is an informal system regulated by the community that develops when subsistence is the goal and there is a premium on labor. This category could certainly prove illuminating for situations like those portrayed in Hag 1 or Neh 5: subsistence was the basic goal of many in these chapters, though there are other subjects present as well. For the majority, it would be actual communal/familial holdings that made up the basic structure of the agricultural economy in Yehud. Guillaume’s adoption of this category might recall the structure put forward by Milevski, who noted the familial-communal lands, though Milevski differed in placing the actual power in the hands of the representatives of the Persian Empire. For the rural regions of Yehud – thus basically for the whole province – a combination of the patronage and communal holdings and economic structures seems most likely. In fact, the language of Ezra-Nehemiah, with their focus on genealogies, may intend to develop and strengthen such relationships. Helping out one’s neighbor – or brother, as the case may be – could likely prove beneficial in the long run to all. If more well-off patrons could be persuaded to view their poorer and dependent neighbors as brothers, then these poorer families might be motivated to remain within the fold of the community, rather than moving to whatever greener pastures (literally) they might find. Perhaps the failure of such attempts provides a further explanation for the cultivation of new lands seen in the archaeological record by Edelman and Lipschits.

472

Ibid., 22–25. Cf. Faust and Weiss, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World,” 77, who note a surprisingly economically-motivated move into the Jordan valley in the seventh century despite the low population density in Judah at the time. The economic situation suggests that other motivations are necessary. 474 The concept also appears in Baruch A. Levine, “Farewell to the Ancient Near East: Evaluating Biblical References to Ownership of Land in Comparative Perspective,” in Privatization in the Ancient Near East and Classical World, ed. M. Hudson and B. A. Levine (Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, 1996), 226, who references the earlier work of de Geus. 475 Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 28. 473

4.5. Persian-Period Economics in Yehud

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Generally speaking, however, it was not only the patrons, perhaps known from Neh 5 or Lev 25 (and the re-use/updating of Deut 15), who were decisive for the functioning of the rural regions. A basic category of dyadic relations was crucial. In this type of economic interaction, exchange outside the basic household unit, when necessary, took place between those on the same socioeconomic level.476 Yet the development of commerce should not be omitted from the discussion. This is based on the development of coinage, though late within the Persian period. The mention of trade in Neh 13 also buttresses such systems. Finally, the adaptation of Babylonian traditions in general by biblical literature and the involvement of Judeans in the Babylonian entrepreneurial commercial exchange – even likely as royal traders – increases the likeliness of such trade developing in the “homeland” of Yehud. These three levels are then overlaid with the taxes and tithes of the provincial-imperial and the temple systems, which will receive more attention below.477

476

For this insight I am grateful for the work of Miller, “Cultivating Curiosity, 6: “In a similar manner, dyadic exchanges occurred in small agrarian villages or hamlets, where the settlement hierarchy is frequently simple and based on kinship groups. This is particularly true when resources are scarce and the survival of the group depends on labour cooperation and produce distribution.” 477 And see my “Tithes for the Clergy and Taxes for the King.”

Chapter 5

Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts This section presents several examples from a broad swath of Persian-period biblical texts. It provides some investigations of the economic conceptions on display in these texts and also supplies important supplements to the economic thinking in Ezra-Nehemiah, which will serve as the main biblical texts analyzed in this work, and to which I will turn in Chapters Six and Seven. The discussions in this chapter focus on Chronicles, Haggai–Zechariah, P, the “Holiness Code,” and Deutero-Isaiah. Perhaps a brief comment is in order concerning the choice of these texts and the placement of some of these texts in the Persian Period. Within recent scholarship views on the dates of particular texts continue to evolve, and such developments are often linked to scholars’ academic location (among other factors).1 Thus, within German-speaking scholarship and those influenced by this stream of tradition, many interpreters have recently dated texts to both the Persian and the Hellenistic periods that past generations and other contexts still see as either preexilic or exilic. Generally speaking, however, I address a body of texts seen by most as arising during or around the Persian period, and many of their governing paradigms concur with this period, rather than with the preexilic or the Hellenistic eras. With regard to Chronicles, there is considerable support for Hellenistic dates for some of the final redactions. Such is also the case for portions of Isaiah, though exilic and postexilic (Persian) settings are compelling for a considerable swath of Isa 40–65. Given the subject matter, the prophetic books of Haggai and Zechariah cannot have originated before the Persian period. Finally, while many debate the date of P, I will assume that its earliest literary layer belongs to the Persian period, and the Holiness Code (Lev 17–26) followed later in the same period as an attempt to reconcile P and D.2 I will discuss these texts in more succinct fashion than those of Ezra-Nehemiah in the following chapters. Some of the texts chosen here – such as P and Deutero-Isaiah – likely originated from communities living Babylon, and for this reason receive less attention. However, the primary reason for the shorter 1 It would certainly be overly reductive to reduce dating schemas to a scholar’s geographic location. 2 Christophe Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus, FAT 2/25 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 616–17.

5.1. Chronicles

189

discussion of these texts is that economics play a more prominent role in the basic thematic and plot lines of Ezra-Nehemiah.

5.1. Chronicles 5.1. Chronicles

The books of Chronicles offer some significant comparisons for the temple building in Ezra-Nehemiah from a similar time period,3 suggesting the relevance of the Chronicler’s perspective to Ezra-Nehemiah. Perhaps the most easily documented manner in which economics can be shown to play an increasingly prominent role in the literary history of the Hebrew Bible appears in the changes from Kings to Chronicles. Chronicles makes these changes in several clear and also subtle ways. First, in 1 Chr 21:22–24 David acquires with silver (‫ )קנה אקנה בכסף‬the threshing floor of Ornan the Jebusite. In 2 Sam 24:24 David pays 50 sheqels for it, but in 1 Chr 21:25 he gives him shekels of gold weighing 600 shekels (‫)זהב משׁקל שׁשׁ מאות שׁקלי‬. Chronicles thus changes both the amount and the currency. In 2 Sam 24:24, David’s reasoning is quite economic, and in 1 Chr 21:24 this perspective is emphasized even further: 2 Sam 24:24 ‫לא כי־קנו אקנה מאותך במחיר‬ ‫ולא אעלה ליהוה אלהי עלות חנם‬ No, for I will surely acquire from you for a price. I will not offer to Yahweh, my God burnt offerings for nothing

1 Chr 21:24 ‫לא כי־קנה אקנה בכסף מלא‬ ‫כי לא־אשׂא אשׁר־לך ליהוה והעלות עולה חנם‬ No, for I will surely acquire for [the] complete [amount of] silver. I will not lift up what belongs to you to Yahweh, so I offer a burnt offering for nothing.

The Chronicles version goes beyond the one in Samuel in several ways. It might appear that inflation was astronomical between the time of 2 Samuel and 1 Chronicles! Given that such inflation is not generally known or expected in the interval between these texts, the change – certainly deliberate – likely arose from a different motivation than merely reflecting prices at the time of the writing of the Chronicles version. Knoppers comments on this difference, “The exorbitant payment for the threshing floor highlights the significance a conscientious David ascribes to securing this site.”4 Combined with Knoppers’ description of David in this chapter as the “model of a repentant sinner,”5 David’s 3

Schmid (Literary History, 187), proposes a late Persian period date for the earliest form of the book, though he reckons with updates and additions into the Maccabean era; cf. Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament. 4 Gary N. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 12 (New York: Doubleday, 2004), 758. 5 Ibid.

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5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

repentance therefore becomes exemplary because of its extreme economic cost. The change in Chronicles underscores the point that David will pay the full amount (‫מאה‬, LXX: ἀργυρίῳ ἀξίῳ ‘worthy price’). There is no discount, which monumentalizes the action.6 The prepositional phrase “from you” in 2 Sam 24:24 becomes “what belongs to you.” This development could either mark a memory variant, or perhaps a way to emphasize that the ritual action must be at David’s cost. A second example occurs in 1 Chr 29. This text belongs to the idealistic portrayal of the transfer of the kingdom from David to Solomon in chapters 28–29 and does not have a parallel in Samuel–Kings. While 1 Kgs 5:2–3 [ET: 4:22–23] and 8:63 detail the sumptuous daily fare of Solomon’s table and the dedication feast for the First Temple, the intervening chapters that tell of the temple construction do not provide much in the way of numbers on the amounts of precious metals and other resources used. In diverging from its source, 1 Chr 29 instead provides a significant parallel to Ezra 1; 2:68–69, where the leaders of the first and second returns (with Sheshbazzar in Ezra 1 and Zerubbabel in Ezra 2) deliver the cultic instruments from the First Temple to Jerusalem on the one hand, and “some of the heads of the households” (Ezra 2:68) add voluntary donations of gold and silver for the Second Temple construction on the other. Similarities to P also arise. In 1 Chr 29:6–9 – following on the mass of donations made by David in vv. 2–5 and David’s call for donations, The leaders of the households and the leaders of the tribes of Israel and the leaders of the thousands and hundred, and the leaders of the royal work7 donated voluntarily. They gave for the work on the house of God 5,000 talents of gold and 10,000 darics, 10,000 talents of silver, and 18,000 talents of bronze, and 100,000 talents of iron. (vv. 6–7)

The type of accounting that I have italicized seems far more at home in the postexilic period, when especially silver and gold come to be counted in the surrounding regions. As far as the unique features of the Chronicles list, I find it rather conspicuous that only the gold receives a double designation for the amount donated: the gold is listed both in terms of its weight (talents) and the number of coins (darics). The corresponding accounts in the building of the Jerusalem Temple in 1 Kings are less concerned with the origins or amounts of the precious metals for use in the temple construction, which serves to highlight the Chronicler’s concern on this point. These verses in 1 Chr 29 bear similari-

6 Ibid.; William Johnstone, 1 and 2 Chronicles, 2 vols., JSOTSup 253 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 1:236. This notion also fits well with the thesis of sin becoming viewed as debt in later Old Testament literature, as propounded in Gary A Anderson, Sin: A History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009). 7 The MT is difficult here, with its ‫לשׂרי מלאכת המלך‬. A reading of “for the leaders of the royal work,” following the MT is also possible. However, the syntax, with the subsequent “and they gave for the work …” makes this interpretation problematic.

5.1. Chronicles

191

ties in terms of who brings gifts, the nature of the giving, and the gifts themselves to both Ezra and the Priestly account (Exod 38:25–29). Chronicles develops the list of givers more completely than Ezra, but both speak of the donations by leaders. In both cases the giving begins with the royal figure: in Ezra with the Persian monarch – in Ezra 1, 5 the gifts are the cultic vessels, while 6:4–10 and 8:25–27, 32–34 go further and include all the rebuilding costs and maintenance of the daily sacrifice and intercessory temple service. The cultic vessels establish the connection with the holiness of the First Temple, while the amounts in Ezra 8 quantify imperial support for the functioning of the temple. The account in 1 Chr 29 provides more description, however, in terms of where the donations should end up: v. 8 names “the treasury of the house of Yahweh into the possession of Yehiel the Gershomite.”8 Ezra 8, in recounting the precious items for the temple brought by Ezra and his companions, gives a list of names before whom the items should be recorded and deposited, but for some reason the mention of an actual treasury goes missing. Perhaps such an institution was somewhat amorphous at this time (contra Schaper).9 Furthermore, 1 Chr 29:9 focuses attention on the nature of the giving of the donations: they gave voluntarily “with whole/complete heart” (‫)בלב שׁלם‬, providing a reason for celebration. There are other, less striking appearances of economic thinking, which may or may not suggest a rise in the importance of economics as a base metaphor for discourse. One example is 2 Chr 15:7, where the prophet comforts Judah for turning to Yahweh: “Now you be strong and do not let your hands be slack, for there is a wage for your work.” Because this statement’s absence from the parallel report in 1 Kgs 16 of Asa’s reign, it reveals act-consequence type thinking wrapped in economic garb. Nonetheless, it does not necessarily document an increase in the metaphorical power of economics. Such an expression would also fit in a preexilic setting. However, its particular inclusion in Chronicles is worthy of note, given the previous discussions of 1 Chr 21 and 29. So, in conclusion, Chronicles contains some small indications of an increase in economics as a category for conceiving of various aspects of reality. The book’s economic formulations in 1 Chr 21 accentuate traditional formulations, while the provisions for the construction of the temple in 1 Chr 29 take part in the development of a new category that is also found elsewhere in postexilic biblical texts.

8

The treasury is mentioned directly only for the precious stones, but it seems appropriate (though textually conjectural) to assume that the metals were also placed in this treasury. 9 Schaper, “The Temple Treasury Committee.”

192

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

5.2. Priestly Document 5.2. Priestly Document

The Priestly literature, whose basic composition is often dated to the exilic or Persian period, provides an important comparison for the economic themes in the construction of the Second Temple in its formulation of the contributions given by the Israelites to build the Tabernacle (Exod 25; 28:21–29; 30:12–13; 35:4, 20–29; 36:3–7), as I have already begun to point out in the previous discussion on Chronicles. In fact, Gertz goes so far as to see this correspondence as a reason supporting a date for P close to the rebuilding of the Second Temple in 520–515 BCE.10 Given the likelihood that the Priestly texts in Exodus also address – either as prescriptive inspiration or utopian counter-formation – the building of the Second Temple, its economic vision for the Tabernacle building bears relevance as a comparison to Ezra’s vision. Important points of comparison include questions of who funds the building efforts, and who carries out the actual building. With regard to the funding of the building efforts, both Exodus and Ezra lay considerable weight on the voluntary contributions of “Israelite” donors. Various forms of the root ‫ נדב‬play a decisive role in gathering of materials for the Sinai sanctuary.11 Exodus 25:2, the divine command for the gift-bringing, declares that each Israelite shall bring a ‫“( תרומה מאת כל־אישׁ אשׁר ידבנו לבו‬an offering from each person, what his heart prompts him”) of gold, silver, yarn, wood, oil, etc. Each person decides the nature and amount of their individual gift. Notably, in Exodus the people as a whole play a significant role (see also 1 Chr 29:6–9, where the officers of the clans [‫ ]שׂרי האבות‬bring gifts for the building of the First Temple). This troop of actors arises in part from the omission of a king in the Exodus narrative. This is only partially the case in Ezra, where the Persian kings play a significant role, though in Ezra 2:68–69 some of the Judean leaders offer voluntary contributions. Nonetheless, royal patronage usually plays a decisive role in financing and dedication of ancient Near Eastern and Israelite temples (cf. 1 Kgs 6–8//2 Chr 3–6; 2 Kgs 12; 16), while it is absent in Exodus (Moses does not fulfill this role in the same way as kings).12 The 10

Jan C. Gertz, “Torah and Former Prophets,” in T&T Clark Handbook of the Old Testament (ed. J. C. Gertz; London: Continuum, 2012), 299–300. Gertz relegates Exod 35–39 to PS (later supplements), perhaps placing these chapters and their economic motifs even closer to the time of Ezra-Nehemiah. Schmid, The Old Testament also places P in the early Persian period, before the addition of Egypt to the empire in the reign of Cambyses. One of his main arguments in support of this is the omission of Egypt from P’s Table of Nations (Gen 10) and its depiction as the lone human adversary in P. 11 Helmut Utzschneider, Das Heiligtum und das Gesetz: Studien zur Bedeutung der sinaitischen Heiligtumstexte (Ex 25-40; Lev 8-9) (OBO 77; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 1988), 160–61. 12 Ibid., 158–59.

5.2. Priestly Document

193

narrative goes on to note that the Israelites brought so much material that the foremen ask Moses to stop the Israelites from bringing more (36:3–7). This abundance contrasts starkly with Haggai’s criticism of the people in Hag 1 for not bringing the material required for the rebuilding effort. Exodus 36 even goes beyond the portrayal in Ezra 1:9–11; 2:68–69. This outpouring of gifts in Exodus indicates the quintessential response of the worshiping community: their gifts surpass even the highest hopes, setting the bar very high for every succeeding generation. The narrative arc as a whole concludes with the records of the Tabernacle and its furnishings, noting spectacular amounts of gold, silver, and copper (Exod 38:24–29). The silver (38:25–26), however, draws upon the enrollment tax of 30:12–13. This silver seems to contract the vision of voluntary contributions from Exod 36. Instead Exod 30:12–15 relates the census and enrollment tax (‫ )כפר נפשׁו‬levied for each person over twenty years old: half a shekel, regardless of one’s wealth. The reasons given for this enrollment tax are twofold. The first reason involves avoiding a plague (30:12), perhaps related to the inherent danger in conducting a census.13 The second reason has more of an economic hue: the service of the sanctuary requires contributions (v. 16). It therefore mirrors the agreement by the Judahites in Neh 10, which makes it surprising that it appears in 38:26. In Exod 38:26 it provides for the construction rather than the maintenance of the sanctuary, implying a one-time rather than a recurring tax. As a whole, countable valuables are the mode through which the text depicts the righteousness of the people. And, unlike in 1 Kgs 4 [ET: 5] and 8, it is not feasting, but tradable property. Another important problematic arises in the question of who can build the deity’s sanctuary. In the Exodus building project, the Judahite Bezazel and the Danite Oholiab oversee the construction (31:2). Skilled women ( ‫כל אשׁה חכמת‬ ‫ )לב‬assisted by making cloth (35:25–26), and others assisted as they desired (36:2). This conception, as Utzschneider demonstrates, contrasts with the report of the First Temple in 1 Kgs 7:13–46, where Hiram the Tyrian leads the building efforts.14 The comparison with Ezra 3:7 is intriguing here in that, as I will discuss in more detail below, the Ezra passage includes both Phoenician and native Judean workers, distinguishing between the two by the means of payment. One similarity between the construction projects of the Second Temple and the Exodus sanctuary is that they are both built according to a law: the Sinai sanctuary fulfills Exod 25–31, while Ezra 6:14 reports the rebuilding of the Second Temple as taking place ‫מן־טעם אלה ישׂראל ומטעם כורשׁ ודריושׁ וארתחשׁשׂתא‬, 13 This can be compared to the plague chosen by David for punishment of his census taking in 2 Sam 24//1 Chr 21, but the connection is not as clear as one might hope for. If this connection is valid, then it reflects a generally negative attitude towards a census. 14 Utzschneider, Das Heiligtum und das Gesetz, 163–67.

194

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

“following the decree of the God of Israel and following the decree of Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes, king of Persia.” Yet this similarity includes a profound difference: in the same manner as the financing from mixed (Israelite/Judean and Persian) sources in Ezra’s account of the Second Temple, the building in Ezra also takes place in line with Israelite/Judean and foreign law. The Sinai sanctuary is instead completely Israelite.15 From an economic perspective, the laws follow the money trail. Some other texts that belong to the Priestly tradition, if not to the earliest layer of the Priestly Document, also address economic topics. While unclear as to its literary-historical placement and whether it should be attributed to the Priestly Document,16 the purchase of the cave of Machpelah in Gen 23 also depicts a significant economic transaction in vv. 9–17. Like in 1 Chr 21:24, Abraham too insists on paying full price (v. 9: ‫ )בכסף מלא‬The price is set at 400 sheqels, which is 2/3 of what David pays Ornan in 1 Chr 21:24, and significantly more than Jeremiah pays in Jer 32:9, perhaps indicating Abraham’s royal status.17 In Gen 23:16 he weighs out the silver ( ‫וישׁקל אברהם לעפרן את‬ ‫)הכסף‬. Parallels from the larger Near Eastern context have been sought as broadly as Old-Hittite law, Old Assyrian Kanesh economic documents, NeoBabylonian property transactions, and Palmyra inscriptions.18 Regardless of when one dates this text, the fact that similarities can be drawn from so many different epochs underlines that paying a significant price emphasizes the importance of the purchase of the land with its prepared burial tombs. As with David in 1 Chr 21, Abraham highlights the importance of his wife for him by paying a large sum for her burial location. In this way the symbolic ritual and economic price enhance the meaning of one another. A final example from the Priestly literature appears in the offering regulations of Lev 5:14–26. These practices display a system of exchange. One of the most striking, if also difficult indicators, is the instruction of Lev 5:18, that one is to “… bring a ram without blemish from the flock, or its equivalent” – ‫והביא‬ ‫איל תמים מן־הצאן בערכך‬. The difficulty becomes apparent as soon as this translation is compared with that of 5:15: ‫והביא את־אשׁמו ליהוה איל תמים מן־הצאן בערכך כסף־שׁקלים בשׁקל־הקדשׁ לאשׁם׃‬

He shall bring as his penalty to the LORD a ram without blemish from the flock, convertible (‫ )ערכך‬into payment in silver by the sanctuary weight, as a guilt offering. 15

Cf. Ibid., 285. There is significant debate over whether this chapter belongs to P. As an expansion to P is the judgment of Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, 324. 17 Levin, “Abraham erwirbt seine Grablege (Gen 23),” 103. 18 Delbert R. Hillers, “Palmyrene Aramaic Inscriptions and the Bible,” ZAH 11 (1998): 40–41, provides an overview of the history of scholarship. 16

5.2. Priestly Document

195

The difference in these two passages is that v. 15 includes the description of the “equivalency” (‫)ערכך‬19 form, which is given in a weight of silver, weighed according to a certain scale. If the text of 5:15 is to be understood as a synchronic entity, it remains difficult to explain why it is necessary to determine the value in silver according to the sanctuary shekel for such an animal. It has been proposed that the reason was to keep the animal from being too low in value, but the normal regulations of the type of animal would have been sufficient. Nihan rather sees this returning the ‫ אשׁם‬to its original monetary meaning, though the current form of Lev 5 expects an actual ram sacrifice, not merely an equivalent payment.20 To this one might add that the determination of the value of the animal in silver was necessary to calculate how much silver the 20% penalty was (which follows in v. 16). LH and the Covenant Code demonstrate that silver payment in reparations took place much earlier on, from at least the second millennium. Furthermore, the notion of exchanging an offering into its value in silver is also not original with Leviticus in the Hebrew Bible, as Deut 14:25–27 reflects this phenomenon, though it has nothing to do with the payment of a penalty in that context. In Lev 5:15–16, 24 [ET: 6:5], and 22:14 (also Num 5:5–8), in order to redeem a cultic offense, one must bring the total repayment + 1/5 of the value in addition. The inclusion of this kind of reckoning comes in response to more deliberate offenses. Because of their gravity, these sins call for both an expensive animal offering (a ram) and a silver payment in relation to the offense committed. The payment in specie is as damages. This display of economic, or economic-like, calculation also appears in Greek offering systems. Seaford notes that Solon, the reformer in Athens in the early sixth century BCE, determined the prices for sacrificial victims, opening the path for the rise of monetized thinking in Greece.21 The Priestly Document, including its possible later redactional expansions, takes part in the development of economic categories for several different areas of “Israelite” life. It shares with Chronicles the use of the economically determinative value of land as a way to designate a particularly high symbolic importance of a particular plot (Gen 23). It also approaches the responsibility of the building of the sanctuary by means of setting out the people and amounts given for construction. Closely related to this is the designation of particular individuals as the most important artisans in the actual construction project. Finally, regular cultic procedure requires the evaluation in silver of various offenses and contributions. 19

The form is a difficult one. It is often explained as a fossilized 2.m.s. pronominal suffix: Cf. Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1-16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 3 (New York: Doubleday, 1991), 326. 20 Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 246–47. 21 Seaford, Money and the Early Greek Mind, 75–87.

196

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

5.3. The “Holiness Code” 5.3. The “Holiness Code”

While there are some other related texts that display interest in economic issues in Lev 17–26, such as the prohibition on unjust and righteous weights and scales in 19:35–36, which pick up on long-standing concerns throughout the ancient world, the most wide-reaching perspectives on community economics are gathered together in Lev 25. My discussion therefore focuses on this chapter. Levine notes that this chapter fits easily in the Persian period with its similarities to Neh 5: The legislation enacted in response to this new situation sought, as its paramount objective, to prevent the loss of land by Israelites and their families. The close parallels with Nehemiah 5, [cancelling debts and returning the land to original owners] suggest a common, historical setting for both sources: the situation of the Judean community under Persian domination.22

While this date is certainly debated, Nihan has also recently argued that these chapters update P with an eye to D,23 which suggests a mid-Persian period date as likely. The detailed reworking of Exod 21 and Deut 15 in Lev 25 also supports Nihan’s position, as laid out in detail by Levinson.24 Turning to the text itself, the basic premise appears in 25:2: “When you enter the land … then the land shall rest, a Sabbath for Yahweh.” On the basis of Sabbath calculations, on the tenth day of the seventh month a ‫ דרור‬is proclaimed for everyone living in the land (v. 10), and this is called a ‫יובל‬.25 The next sections lay out the implications of such a ‫דרור‬/‫יובל‬. The general idea (v. 10) is that each (man) returns to his ‫[“( אחזה‬land]holding”) and to his clan, and the general regulations for the yobel year itself are cast in terms of a Sabbath year – no sowing or reaping (vv. 11–12). Then vv. 14–18, 23–24, present the actual significance of the yobel. Verse 23 articulates the logic behind the practice: “But the land will not be sold completely, for the land belongs to me [a causal clause]. For you are/were foreigners and resident aliens26 with me 22 Baruch A. Levine, Leviticus, The JPS Torah commentary (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1989), 273–74. Also Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 247. 23 Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 616–17, and on Lev 25 specifically, 523– 31; similarly in this regard Jeffrey Stackert, Rewriting the Torah: Literary Revision in Deuteronomy and the Holiness Legislation, FAT 52 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). 24 Levinson, “The Birth of the Lemma.” 25 Translation of this word is notoriously difficult. Its basic meaning is “ram,” and by extension, “ram’s horn” (BDB: 385). Therefore, BDB (and also HALOT, 398) extrapolate that its combination with the fiftieth year indicates that the year began with the blowing of the ram’s horn. The English term ‘jubilee’ arises from the Latin iubilare, according to HALOT, 398, “…of a shepherd’s call, or call to war.” 26 Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 23-27: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 3B (New York: Doubleday, 2000), 2187, takes this as a hendiadys. “To be sure, the term gēr exists independently, which indicates only that the person is alien, whereas gēr wĕtôšāb emphasizes that the alien has taken root and settled in a community. Indeed, since

5.3. The “Holiness Code”

197

[also a causal clause].” This double motivation of Israel’s alien status and divine ownership of the land gives rise to the restriction of the Israelites’ control over ‘purchased land,’ designated by the relatively rare term ‫ ממכר‬in this chapter.27 As Milgrom notes, the idea of land belonging to a deity is not special to Israel, but it also appears, among other places, on the Mesha Stele, where the land belongs to Chemosh.28 Milgrom does not comment, however, on the omission of a royal figure, like Mesha, in the Leviticus texts. While such a figure fits poorly with the pre-monarchic narrative setting, it is neither impossible (note Deut 17:14–20) nor insignificant for the conception of the biblical understanding of property rights on display in the story of Naboth’s vineyard (1 Kgs 21). Through the equation of this yobel year with the deror, a connection arises with the debt-release edicts from Old Babylonian kings. These kings claimed the authority to enforce such decrees, and some clauses in the decrees also dealt with their own personal release of debts (to the crown). The situation is complicated in Lev 25 by the lack of a human ruler. One way that Lev 25 deals with this executive problem by circumscribing all claims to Israelite territory (v. 23). All Israelite territory becomes the possession of the deity; therefore, all secondary (human) claims to land must fall in line with the divine policies. Not only are the Israelites’ property rights restricted in Lev 25, but their treatment of their associates (‫עמית‬, v. 17 // to ‫ אח‬in v. 14), presumably with regard to the purchase price of the usufruct of the agricultural land, is limited. Much like Deut 15:10, Lev 25:18 offers the promise of divine blessing in response to providing favorable economic treatment (a good price) to one’s associate. The rejection of “disembedded” economic thinking, where economic gain is placed above the value of community flourishing, is deeply entrenched in this verse. However, a distinct economic advantage appears in this text that is omitted from the related treatment in Deut 15: rather than a release of an indebted Israelite mandated after six years, now the period of indenture lasts until the ensuing yobel year.29 The rest of the chapter considers what many interpreters see as a downward spiral from landownership into debt made up of (three or) four stages:30 − 25:24–28: selling some of one’s landholdings that return to him (or presumably his family) no later than at the yobel year.

he has probably settled on land belonging to an Israelite, he is totally dependent on the latter for his sustenance. 27 BDB, 569: “sale, ware.” Lev 25:14, 25, 27, 29, 33, 50; Deut 18:8; Ezek 7:13; Neh 13:20. Milgrom (ibid., 2177) suggests that this rarer word is chosen to minimize the notion that the land itself was sold. 28 Ibid., 2184. 29 Ibid., 2174. 30 Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 521; Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery, 324; Milgrom, Leviticus 23-27, 2191.

198

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

25:35–38: The poor brother is helped as one would assist a ger. One should not take interest or lend money at interest, or sell food at a profit (‫)תרבית‬.31 − 25:39–43: If a brother becomes so poor that he then sells himself to a fellow Israelite, the owner should treat him as hired laborer, not as slave, and release him at the yobel year. − 25:47–55: If a brother is sold to a ger, then he must be treated as yearly hireling, so that he can redeem himself. He should not be treated ruthlessly and is to be released at the yobel year. As a whole, the section turns on the fact that agricultural land can always be redeemed (‫)גאל‬, a root found throughout this second half of the chapter.32 The first stage, selling some of one’s holdings, regulates the terms on which one could purchase the title (which according to Lev 25, given that the ultimate title belongs to Yahweh, is perhaps better equated with the usufruct) of part of a fellow Israelite’s agricultural holdings. The family of the seller, or the seller himself, can buy back the title/usufruct at any time. If this repurchase does not occur, then the title/usufruct returns to the original owner at the yobel. Next comes an interlude that addresses the temporally unregulated purchase of a dwelling in a walled settlement (vv. 29–30) versus the dwelling in an unwalled settlement, which is treated the same as agricultural land (v. 31). This distinction implies that there was nothing inherently negative about buying and selling per se, but rather the issue comes with the denial of the basic ability of generations of families to provide their own subsistence. Dwellings in walled settlements may have been primary stores of wealth, if comparison with Babylonia can be made.33 A second side note then occurs, addressing Levitical lands (vv. 32–34). The most debated stage is the second, addressed in vv. 35–38. “And if your brother becomes poor, and his hand shakes with you, then you shall strengthen him. [With the status of] a resident alien, he shall live under your authority” (v. 35). There are several points of contention. First, contrary to my translation, Milgrom argues that the third clause (“then you shall strengthen him”) belongs to the protasis and that the hiphil ‫ החזקת‬should means “taking hold of,” rather than “sustaining” the poor brother. The difference here is whether the lender profits from the assistance offered in vv. 36–37: −

31

Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery, 323, calls the final two stages “3a” and “3b,” which does make sense, logically, because one would only experience one, rather than both of these. I choose to separate them into different stages simply because they are not the same action. 32 As noted by Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 528. 33 Cf. Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 267: “Judging from the attested prices, urban real estate was the single most important type of possession of the class of people [well-to-do families] under discussion here, both for rich owners of several plots as well as for less affluent families who only owned the house they lived in; the size of a family's urban possessions probably reflects directly the size of that family's patrimony.”

5.3. The “Holiness Code”

199

36: You shall not take from him interest or increase,34 rather you shall revere your God and sustain your brother with you.35 37: Your silver, do not give to him on interest. And with inflation do not give your food. The key to understanding this section is that the poor brother now takes on the role of a migrant on his own land, delivering the produce (usufruct) to the creditor. The creditor must, as an act of reciprocity, provide interest-free sustenance for the debtor. The loan offered is not an antichretic loan, but rather one on which even the seasonal fluctuation in grain prices cannot be calculated.36 The resulting logical problem has to do with motivation: who would be willing to offer a loan, especially of food when it is scarce (e.g., in the time leading up to the harvest), if it will only be reimbursed when food is plentiful? This difficulty may have triggered the inclusion of v. 38, with its reminder of Yahweh’s action in the Israelites behalf, thereby providing non-economic motivation. The poor brother does not sell himself, but gives up control of his landholding, thereby taking on the status of a resident alien. The lack of interest or seasonal inflation becomes the special provision, rendering it (more) possible for the impoverished brother to make a dent in the loan. For the poor to have become like a resident alien implies giving up the “title” of his land, likely in pledge, but the usufruct would have remained with him to pay off the loan.37 My interpretation builds on the notion of the fluctuation of the value of grain according to the temporal proximity of the loan to the harvest. Based on the notion of subsistence loans highlighted in Persian-period Babylonia, in which farmers were loath to indemnify their lands and generally took this step only as a last resort,38 the law in Lev 25 attempts to provide some type of relief in repayment. This relief could take place, if there was something of a grain exchange that indicated a somewhat flexible value of grain (e.g., Neh 13 and the archaeological finds from Ashkelon). 34

Due to price increase in the fluctuation of prices. See ibid., 533 and n. 545; Milgrom, Leviticus 23-27, 2147: “Do not exact from him advance or accrue interest.” The Hebrew has ‫ נשׁך‬and ‫תרבית‬. 35 This implies the responsibility for the impoverished person’s well-being. Cf. Robert North, The Biblical Jubilee ... After Fifty Years, AB 145 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 2000), 51. 36 Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 533 n. 545; contra Bruce Wells, “The Quasi-Alien in Leviticus 25,” in The Foreigner and the Law: Perspectives From the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East, ed. R. Achenbach, R. Albertz, and J. Wöhrle, BZABR 16 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2011), 142. 37 I do not see the need to read the text against the grain, (like Wells, see previous note), primarily because these verses are set within an entire chapter focused on protecting the property rights of individual families. Secondly, the argument for seeing the section as an antichretic loan arises from the ban on interest included, which renders Wells’ argument circular. 38 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 625

200

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

The third (and fourth) stage takes place when a family can neither support their needs from their own land nor pay back their accumulation of debt through work on their own land. It results in relocation to the Israelite or foreigner creditor’s household. In both situations the kinsman is to be treated with the same status as a hired worker (vv. 39, 53). The underlying premise of both situations is that all Israelites are in fact God’s servants, and they therefore cannot be hereditary slaves to other humans. Yet the situation obviously becomes more complicated when an Israelite lands in the household of a foreigner not attached to Yahweh. The economic ramifications of this situation appear in the exchange of silver. The redemption amount is equated in terms of the wages of a hired worker (vv. 51–52), and the relatives receive the responsibility, especially the uncle and cousin (v. 49). What arises, given this basic exegesis, when reading the text on the background of the Persian period? First of all, the regulations focus on the small farmer maintaining his landholding.39 In some ways this would not be surprising for a group intent on (re-)creating and (re)claiming a communal identity interlinked with the location of the Yehud highlands. Suggesting that brotherly affiliation should be given higher regard than economic profit would fit this intent well, though it may easily reflect other time periods as well. However, while the place of the hired worker was always liminal, he need not always have been poor. If one compares with Mesopotamia from Nebuchadnezzar on, then hired labor was paid quite well compared, for example, to temple oblates. The worker shortage gave rise to better conditions. And such circumstances could also have played a role in the background to Lev 25. If so, then there may truly have been a distinct possibility in paying off one’s own loan (v. 26: ‫)ומצא כדי גאלתו‬, especially if interest was forbidden. Such scenarios probably became more likely as the Persian Period wore on, when commerce eventually blossomed even in the Judean highlands. Part of the important basis for the development of economic progress, as noted in my theoretical discussion of NIE, is the importance of economic structures and the determination of property rights. Whether reactively or proactively, the legal formulations of Lev 25 seem to respond to a scenario in which several factors occur. First, economic progress for individuals was possible. Second, maintenance of societal cohesion on the part of a real or proposed “Israelite” community was threatened. Finally, external military pressure receives no textual attention. The Persian period in Yehud fits well with these factors.

39

North, Jubilee, 17.

5.4. Deutero-Isaiah

201

5.4. Deutero-Isaiah 5.4. Deutero-Isaiah

The corpus of Second Isaiah (Isa 40–55), which likely began taking shape in the exilic, rather than the Persian period, contains several texts with economic terminology, themes, and metaphorical backgrounds. My discussion will consider two. The first is the topic of sin as a debt, and the second is the street vendor image of 55:1–3. G. Anderson’s Sin: A History keys in on texts that show the use of conceptions of sin as debt – the guiding concern of Lev 25, which could be paid off through service akin to debt slavery. While debt slavery was already an ancient institution at the time of Second Isaiah, the use of this metaphor in the conceptualization of human failing indicates such a rise in the importance of debt within the society that the concept debt could be transferred analogically to speak of sin. One central text with this metaphor is Isa 40:2. Anderson translates this passage: “… and declare to her that her term of service is over, that [the debt owed for] her iniquity has been satisfied …” He goes on to explain: “The point is made time and again by the writer when he declares that God’s saving act should be characterized as an act of redemption (ge’ullah), that is, a release of individuals from their bondage in slavery.”40 The root is the same one that plays a central role in Lev 25 – ‫גאל‬. The final colon of the verse, “For she has taken from the hand of Yahweh double for all her sins,” undergirds his line of reasoning: “… Second Isaiah has struck a financial image and that Israel is described as a nation that was sent to Babylon to repay a debt.”41 Yet unlike the impoverished kinsman in Lev 25, Israel has been made to pay double. Yahweh is depicted as anything but the model of the pious Israelite described in Lev 25, who does not charge interest. In Isa 40 the interest has increased so much – though perhaps this might indicate that the loan had been given many, many years before? – that repayment was double the original amount. The importance of redemption from debt also appears elsewhere in Second Isaiah: In 44:22, again in connection with sin (‫)חטאתיך‬. In this verse, however, the metaphor is a mixed one: sins are wiped away, and the people are invited back to Yahweh, for he redeems them (‫)כי גאלתיך‬. Again, in 44:23, Yahweh redeems, and v. 24 names Yahweh “your redeemer.”42 While the use of the term here is less clearly economic in nature, the economic conception is the basic one for the term. In v. 22 the image of sin as mark is prominent, and redemption (from debt) is only secondarily the metaphorical description of sin. The latter two verses (vv. 23–24) focus in on the jubilant celebration ensuing

40

Anderson, Sin, 46. Ibid., 47. 42 Cf. Isa 49:26 41

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5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

from a completed redemption (v. 23), and the fact that Yahweh as maker – and thus relative – makes for a powerful redeemer. Anderson goes on to argue by way of this mixing of metaphors that the change from sin as “spot” to sin as “debt” takes place as a result of the language transition from Hebrew to Aramaic in the Persian period. While the time period is correct, this argument fails to consider that the development was not just, or even primarily, one of linguistic nature. The prominence of debt imagery for sin took place – at least to a significant degree – because of the considerable developments in the economic sphere. For otherwise, the notion of paying off one’s offenses had been in place since the early Mesopotamian law treatises, where payment was to be exacted for offenses.43 Isaiah 55, a very complicated text in many regards, may provide the clearest example of outworking of rising commercialization and other economic developments on a biblical text.44 Isa 55:1–2 ‫הוי כל־צמא‬ ‫לכו למים‬ ‫ואשׁר ֵאין־לו כסף‬ ‫לכו שׁברו ואכלו‬ ‫ולכו שׁברו בלוא־כסף‬ ‫ובלוא מחיר יין וחלב‬ ‫למה תשׁקלו־כסף בלוא־לחם‬ ‫ויגיעכם בלוא לשׂבעה‬ ‫שׁמעו שׁמוע אלי‬ ‫ואכלו־טוב ותתענג בדשׁן נפשׁכם‬ ‫הטו אזנכם ולכו אלי‬ ‫שׁמעו ותחי נפשׁכם‬ ‫ואכרתה לכם ברית עולם‬ ‫חסדי דוד הנאמנים‬

Woe, all thirsting – come to the water, even whoever has no silver Come, buy, and eat Now come, buy, not in exchange for silver, and not in exchange for a price, wine and milk Why will you weigh silver for not-bread, and your earnings for not-satisfying. Listen closely to me, and eat well and enjoy fat. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.

Two main interpretations of the form this passage have taken root in the history of scholarship: (1) the prism of an invitation to a feast, either by God, or per-

43 Cf. on the appearance of this theme in Mesopotamian and biblical law, Konrad Schmid, “The Monetization and Demonetization of the Human Body: The Case of Compensatory Payments for Bodily Injuries and Homicide in Ancient Near Eastern and Ancient Israelite Law Books,” in Money as God? The Monetization of the Market and Its Impact on Religion, Politics, Law, and Ethics, ed. Jürgen von Hagen and Michael Welker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 259–81. 44 Perhaps it is telling that Anderson does not include this text in his index, in that he limits the change of metaphors to the concept of sin.

5.4. Deutero-Isaiah

203

haps Daughter Zion in a style like Lady Wisdom in Proverbs; or (2) with reference to some type of marketplace background.45 Those who have interpreted the image in Isa 55 as an invitation do so on the basis of the similarities to Prov 8–9 and other similar texts, where Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly attempt to draw the “young men” to their house for a meal and more. They sometimes point to the connection between the banquet and “life” in v. 3. Furthermore, R. Clifford has attempted to support this metaphorical background by appealing to the Ugaritic texts of Aqhat and the Myth of the Goodly Gods (CTU 1.23) , based further on the use of /’ay/ in Ugaritic, likened to Hebrew ‫הוי‬.46 However, the problem with this understanding is that while both Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly call out, the location of the women at the “high place,” not to mention the general focus on festive terminology show significant differences to the metaphorical background in Isa 55:1–2. Some of these observations, especially the connection with “life” and the Ugaritic use of /’ay/ are quite compelling, but these comparative texts do not contain any language of buying, weighing out silver, price, or wages. Several interpreters, however, do pick up on the bazaar-like setting: Watts notes, “Like street vendors hawking their wares in an open market, the speakers announce a feast open to everyone.” Goldingay and Payne also understand the metaphorical background in this way: “Behind vv. 1–5 is the call of a market trader.”47 This interpretation goes back to Westermann, who, building on the observations of Volz, comments that this presentation of God’s message and call appears nowhere else in Second Isaiah.48 He goes on to state: … ob nicht diese Rufe in V.2a ebensogut oder besser direkt die gewiß geprägten und allen bekannten Rufe von Wasserverkäufern und anderen “Marktschreiern” zum Vorbild haben

45 Simone Paganini, Der Weg zur Frau Zion, Ziel unserer Hoffnung: Aufbau: Kontext, Sprache, Kommunikationsstruktur und theologische Motive in Jes 55, 1-13, SBB 49 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2002). Paganini, for example, has written an entire monograph on 55:1–13, but he does not move beyond titling these first verses a “call to life,” though he notes the street vendor interpretation (ibid., p. 35); S. Paganini, “Who Speaks in Isaiah 55.1? Notes on the Communicative Structure in Isaiah 55,” JSOT 30 (2005): 85 n. 8. 46 Richard J. Clifford, “Isaiah 55: Invitation to a Feast,” 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 Michael O’Connor, Special volume series/American Schools of Oriental Research 1 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983), 27–35. 47 John Goldingay and David Payne, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 40-55, 2 vols., ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2006), 2:364. 48 Paul Volz, Jesaja II (Kapitel 40–66), KAT 9,2 (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1932), 138; Claus Westermann, Das Buch Jesaja: Kapitel 40–66, 4t. rev. ed., ATD 19 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981), cf. 226–27.

204

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

könnten. …Die Wiederholung der Imperative “kommt” und “kauft” ist dann gerade beabsichtigt als Nachahmung der Rufe der Verkäufer.49

Here the prophet, as the voice of Yahweh, builds on the image of the street vendor in making luxurious promises. The metaphor in itself, I would suggest, clearly points to an economic background. This conclusion is displayed, first of all, in the vocabulary of the verses: In v. 1 – ‫“ כסף‬silver,” ‫( שׁבר‬twice) “buy,” ‫“ ובלוא מהיר‬and not in exchange for a price,” an ‫“ בלוא כסף‬not in exchange for silver.” Also in v. 2 are ‫“ יגיעכם‬your wages” and ‫“ תשׁקלו כסף‬Why will you weigh silver?” Acquiring necessary provisions without paying for them, “buying” and eating and, “buying without silver” all assume knowledge or experience with situations in which basic foodstuffs were available for purchase. The developments in the ancient Babylonian economy from about the time of Nebuchadnezzar through the first century of Persian rule display the rise of just such a society, and they can be compared with the situation in Yehud in Neh 13. The notion that one could acquire water, even if one had no silver, presupposes a setting in which water normally had to be purchased. Within the biblical text, interpreters usually make reference to the situation in Lamentations, where 5:4 laments that “Our water for silver we drink; our wood enters for a price.”50 The situation in which one needed to purchase water is depicted as part of an extreme circumstance. However, from an archaeological perspective, it has been proposed that the massive water system at Tell esSaba’, in the Negev, could have been constructed and used to sell water supplies to trade caravans on their way between Arabia and the coast, beginning even in the late preexilic period.51 What is gained theologically from the use of this new metaphor, which pits God in competition with street vendors? If we think in terms of Ricœur’s theory, what kind of meaning is created? A healthy dose of irony appears in these verses. The text presents God as throwing off the newly arisen system of domestic trade. Instead of needing to barter or buy the very necessities of life, they are given away freely. Taken line-by-line, first, water is offered to all who are thirsty, even those without silver. This offer is quite good, and also one known from later texts (i.e., Matt 10:42) as a general act of kindness, the likes of which do not appear in the disastrous situation of Lam 5. God, as the “anti-salesman” ups the ante, however, in an attempt to make the buyer/beggar an offer that cannot be refused: “Come, buy and eat. Now come and buy without silver – for no price – wine and milk.” Wine and milk exceed the realm of what the necessities for survival.

49

Westermann, Das Buch Jesaja: Kapitel 40–66, 226; Volz, Jesaja II (Kapitel 40–66),

138.

50 51

The term is ‫;מ ִחיר‬ ְ LXX usually renders it ἀντάλλαγµα, but in Isa 55:1 it is τιµῆς. Thanks to Ido Koch for this insight.

5.4. Deutero-Isaiah

205

Within biblical texts, this portrayal comes quite close to the language of rich hospitality, such as Abraham provided for the divine travelers in Gen 18:8.52 The second verse takes a different approach: Instead of highlighting his own wares, the seller now denigrates the items one might consider purchasing elsewhere. “Why will you weigh your silver for something that’s not bread, your wages for something that won’t satisfy?” The element of competition between vendors seems on display here. Finally, God, in rejecting the tactics of the salesman, makes the best offer yet: Rather than only the basic necessities of water or bread, or the generally good provision associated with hospitable treatment of travelers, God invites the audience to full-fledged banquet: “Listen closely to me: eat the good stuff and let yourself be pampered with the rich dishes” (fat).53 The contrast between the thirst of those with no silver in v. 1 and the indulgence of those at the banquet on display here is striking. But there’s more! Not only a feast, which is set parallel to the reviving of life in v. 3b, but even “so I may cut for you an eternal covenant, the faithful loyalties of David.” Ultimately, the image is a mixed one, adding a covenant invitation to a rich banquet that need not be purchased. The ‫ ברית עולם‬functions as the ultimate sales pitch. The so-called “buyers” should no longer be able to walk away because they are offered a part of a tradition that had been reserved for the Davidic kings, according to 2 Sam 23 and Ps 89. Second Isaiah appears fully confronted with, though not accepting of, the rising commercialism found throughout the Babylonian-Persian system. If Second Isaiah took shape in the exilic period in Babylonia, then this provides a compelling socio-economic setting for the confrontation with the fairly new – at least in this degree – economic system of daily wares for sale. While taking on the analogy of debt as a new way to formulate Israel’s failing toward Yahweh, the prophet does not completely embrace the economic paradigm as a foundational metaphor for God’s interaction with Israel.

52 53

Cf. Judg 4:19; 5:25. Wine and milk are found together in Song 5:1.

In Judg 9:9: fat is olive oil. Job 36:16 has: “You will have quiet at your table, filled

with ‫( דשׁן‬fat things).” Psalm 36:9: “They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights” (NRSV; ET v. 8). Cf. Ps 63:6; 65:12; Jer 31:14 (also parallel to ‫)טוב‬.

206

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

5.5. Haggai and Zechariah 5.5. Haggai and Zechariah

Consideration of these two prophetic books is especially important for discussions of the Persian period. They not only address the rebuilding of the temple, but Haggai–Zech 1–8 also functions as a source for material in Ezra 1–6.54 In terms of the time of composition, Haggai–Zech 8 are much closer to the events of 520–515 BCE, when the rebuilding most likely occurred. This places them at least a century before the earliest possible date for Ezra–Nehemiah. The important overlap in content makes discussion of their approach to economics especially important. While economic motifs appear throughout Haggai, both their purpose and metaphorical approach contrast significantly with Ezra or Second Isaiah. The logic of Haggai’s accusation and later words of support for Zerubbabel, Jehoshua, and “this people” (1:2) appears quite straightforward: while the people claim the time has not yet come to rebuild the divine house, v. 4 notes that they themselves find time to rest (‫ )לשׁבת‬in their paneled houses. Two tensions emerge here: first, if this people claims to be poor, then how can they find time to (1) rest and (2) how can they have paneled homes? The notion of paneled building also occurs with regard to the First Temple in 1 Kgs 6:9, Solomon’s palace in 1 Kgs 7:7, and as an accusation of the oppressive king in Jer 22:14. Interpreters usually understand the paneling as cedar wood paneling, an imported good. This second tension arises between the paneled homes and the meager existence implied in Hag 1:6–7, 10–11. These issues point to a different conception of “time,” likely in terms of an eschatological or divinely appointed time.55 The question was how to discern that the “time of Yahweh’s anger” was past, and that there was a suitable leader to build the new sanctuary.56 Haggai provides a different answer to this question than Ezra: in Haggai, Zerubbabel is the human representative responsible for temple building, while Ezra gives this responsibility to Cyrus/Darius on the one hand and Zerubbabel on the other. Unlike Haggai, Ezra effectively splits

54

Baruch Halpern, “A Historiographic Commentary on Ezra 1-6: A Chronological Narrative and Dual Chronology in Israelite Historiography,” in The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters ed. W. H. Propp, B. Halpern, and D. N. Freedman; BJSUCSD 1; (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 81-142. 55 David J. A. Clines, “Haggai’s Temple, Constructed, Deconstructed and Reconstructed,” in Second Temple Studies 2: Temple and Community in the Persian Period (ed. T. Eskenazi Cohn and K. H. Richards; JSOTSup 175; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994), 61 n. 2; Peter Ross Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, Supplements to the Journal for the study of Judaism 65 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 157–80. 56 Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, 174, lists in support Pss 74:9; 79:5; 80:5 (Eng. v. 4); Lam 5:20–22; Isa 64:8–11 (Eng. vv. 9–12).

5.5. Haggai and Zechariah

207

the responsibility of temple builder from that of temple financer. This supplements the offerings from members of the community reported in Ezra and demanded (at least in the form of labor) in Haggai. Haggai omits any mention of the Persian kings, to which Bedford states: Zerubbabel's dual role as legitimate temple rebuilder and the Achaemenid Persian appointed peḥāh brings the temple rebuilding under the control of the Achaemenid Persian administration. It is, to use Weberian terms, a classic example of the routinization of charisma.57

Nonetheless, the economic connection remains: Yahweh proclaims through Haggai that meager existence experienced in Yehud results directly from the community’s reluctance to build the temple. Haggai thereby draws a direct causal connection, formally relating the difficult experience to futility curses, known from the Neo-Assyrian period Sefire Treaty and Tell Fekherye inscriptions,58 as well as close parallels in Deut 28:30, 38; Lev 26:19–20 (cf. Amos 4:6). These curses and Haggai’s reliance on this genre appears to have considerable connections to economic motifs. Their similarities, I would argue, are traditional, and therefore not really a move toward economic commercialism. Haggai’s view of the situation relates far more directly to the category of fertility than to economics: no exchange, taxes, or money appears. The difference may appear subtle, but the categories are quite different. Where there is overlap with the re-interpretation of traditional materials; Haggai resorts to more traditional categories. Closer comparisons to Ezra appear in Hag 2:6–8. In response to the current shabbiness of the temple, which – like in Ezra 3:12 – could not compare to the glory of the First Temple, Yahweh replies that soon the precious things of the nations (‫ )חמדת כל הגוים‬will stream to this temple. The image of the riches of the nations entering the Jerusalem temple is also traditional and found elsewhere in the prophets (i.e., Zech 1:17; 8:20–23) ,59 and this theme reappears in Ezra 1, 6, 7, 8 in the character of the temple vessels from the First Temple taken by Nebuchadnezzar that then become part of the Persian royal contributions to the temple construction and daily maintenance. Nonetheless, Hag 2:8 is theologically significant with regard to an economic perception of God: “To me belong the silver and to me the gold.” Coming after vv. 6–7, this statement perhaps portrays God as the possessor not only of precious goods, but also the means to pay. This conclusion must remain tentative, however, because if only conceived in terms of the “precious [things] of the nations,” then exchange and payment may not be in mind. It could instead be 57

Ibid., 308. KAI 200–202; and Jonas C. Greenfield and Aaron Shaffer, “Notes on the AkkadianAramaic Bilingual Statue from Tell Fekherye,” Iraq 45 (1983): 109–16. 59 Isa 45:14–17; 60:5–18; Ps 7:12; 68:32–33. Cf. Halpern, “A Historiographic Commentary on Ezra 1-6,” 90. 58

208

5. Economics in Persian Period Biblical Texts: Broad Contexts

imagined in terms of booty, which would link the statement to a different conceptual metaphor.60 Zechariah, though rife with striking images, only hints at economic conceptions in 8:10–13. These verses belong to an oracle of comfort replete with statements like “Take courage” (‫“ )תחזקנה ידיכם‬Do not fear” (‫על תיראו‬, vv. 13, 15) meant to encourage an audience experiencing poverty. The oracle reminds the audience of the prophecy (Haggai; Zech 1:16–17; 2:14–15; 4:8–10) from the time of the laying of the Second Temple’s foundations, and goes on to promises prosperity, safety, and fertility: For before those days a man’s wage [‫ – ]שׂכר‬it was none, and the hire [‫ ]שׂכר‬for a beast – it did not exist. Nor was there safety [‫ ]שׁלום‬from enemies for transporting [goods], as I had send out every man against his neighbor. But now I am not like [in] the former days with the remnant of this people, declares Yahweh of Hosts: for its seed will be prosperous [‫]זרעה שׁלום‬:61 The vine will yield its fruit, and the earth will yield its produce, and the skies will produce their moisture. (Zech 8:10–13)

This passage draws on the fertility thematic found in Haggai, yet it also incorporates complementary conceptions that spring the bounds of this motif. While the fertility theme also includes the notion of fullness versus famine and emptiness found especially in v. 12’s address of the naturalia necessarily for agricultural abundance, the repeated use of ‫ שׁלום‬and ‫ שׂכר‬address concerns of political safety and economic prosperity. The promises of safety for conducting the transportation of goods for sale and of payment for labor and rented animals place the imagery in an economic setting. It is not that safety and wage/hire issues did not occur in preexilic and exilic Israel, however, so these images were conceivable in earlier epochs. Yet it may indicate their significance at this time. In terms of comparison with Ezra-Nehemiah, the correspondence between the peace from enemies in Zech 3:10 resembles the fear and safety issues in Ezra 3:3; 4:1–5; and Neh 6. The lack of wage or rental price for an animal might be compared to the situation in Neh 5, where – contrary to the promise of Zech 3:11 – the seed had not been prosperous, so the people needed to pawn off whatever possessions or people they possess in order to stave off hunger. In conclusion, economic conceptions are quite meager in these Persian-period prophetic texts. While some indications that commercial transactions take place do appear, such formulations play minor roles in their messages. One possibility may be that this meager evidence accords with their historical setting early in the Persian period in Yehud, when commerce was less common.

60

Clines, “Haggai’s Temple, Constructed, Deconstructed and Reconstructed,” 65. I am following Procksch’s suggestion in BHK, which separates the consonants of [‫ ]זרעהשׁלם‬diffently than the MT. 61

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5.6. Trends and Conclusions 5.6. Trends and Conclusions

Bringing together the wide swath of texts from the Exile (Second Isaiah) and the Persian period (Chronicles, P, Lev 25, Haggai–Zech 1–8) a rise in economic metaphors and reflections has been observed. While the “calculation” of error was a viable option in legal treatises from early on, this conception for offense against God becomes prominent during this time. Similarly, the notion of paying a high price for property also appears in 2 Samuel’s telling of the purchase of the future site of the temple, but this is again magnified in the 1 Chronicles version and the purchase of the burial cave in Gen 23. On the whole, these texts display an uneasiness and limited adoption of the economic practices in their formulations of the nature of the Divine, of the financing for the Second Temple, and of societal integration. Furthermore, P, Chronicles, and Hag 1 provide considerable reflection on the nature of the financing for the temple. The texts formulate diverging conceptions on the possibility of foreign involvement in temple construction. The most significant text, Isa 55, demonstrates a wholesale rejection of entrepreneurial reckoning. It instead opts to show Yahweh as the “anti”-trader, who outbids fellow hawkers by giving away a free banquet. Leviticus 25, much like the texts in Neh 5 and 13, attempts to describe a detailed plan for treating “fellow Israelites” that become indebted. It intends to offer a system in which “the brotherhood of Israelites” is accepted, prescribing in economic terms how communal identity could be forged in postexilic Yehud.

Chapter 6

The Historical and Composition-Critical Setting of Ezra-Nehemiah 6. The Historical and Composition-Critical Setting of Ezra-Nehemiah

Because a major portion of this investigation will focus on the economic thinking within the book(s) of Ezra-Nehemiah, this section serves to provide an overview of some of the historical and textual issues surrounding the books. As a preview of my conclusions, the economic thinking in the MT Hebrew version can be taken to reflect the economic conditions of the mid to late Persian period. The status quastionis on the composition of Ezra–Nehemiah is very uncertain. Discussions on the historical-critical location of the book circle around three issues.1 First, considerable debate exists on whether the Hebrew version of Ezra-Nehemiah (supported by the Greek 2 Esdras or Esdras β) or rather the Greek 1 Esdras (Esdras α, German: 3 Esdras) reflects the oldest version of the text. Second, the block model accepted in commentaries from the 1980s, such as Williamson, Blenkinsopp, and Gunneweg, continues to find considerable support, but this support is no longer as universal as it once was. A number of recent works – e.g., those by Kratz, Wright, and Pakkala – promote a layer model for both books.2 In relation to this second question, interpreters debate whether the majority of the material from these books dates to the Persian, or rather to the Hellenistic period. Furthermore, especially Grätz has proposed that Hellenistic dedications rather than Persian-period temple dedications form the proper tradition-historical background for Ezra 7, which concerns issues of temple financing and tax relief.3 While many of these questions do not occupy central stage for my project, the general historical background of the specific texts in my discussion below is important for the determination of the specific economic systems reflected 1 A fourth issue, which I will not discuss because it is less important for dating the economic formulations is the historical relationship between the figures of Ezra and Nehemiah: if there was an historical Ezra leading Yehud, was he present in Jerusalem before Nehemiah, as the biblical books present? Or is he rather to be placed around 400 BCE? 2 A recent overview of a number of recent opinions appears in Mark J. Boda and Paul L. Redditt, eds., Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader, Hebrew Bible Monographs 17 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008). 3 Sebastian Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes: Eine Untersuchung zum religionspolitischen und historischen Umfeld von Esra 7,12-26, BZAW 337 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004).

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in the texts of Ezra–Nehemiah. Establishing the text basis to accord with the historical setting is, then, significant to the degree that the economic background develops from one diachronic period to another. Given the relatively slow economic development that can be reconstructed from the material remains from the (mid-) Persian and early Hellenistic periods, identifying the extent of the text of Ezra-Nehemiah from this longer-term perspective is the decisive step. Most directly, my discussion of the relationship between the building of the temple and imperial taxes in Ezra 1–8, as well as the imperial and temple taxes, debt release, and gubernatorial taxes in Nehemiah necessitates the formulation of a view on the historical composition of at least Ezra 1–8; and Neh 5; 10; and 13. Siedlecki formulates the question well: “If the present text of Ezra–Nehemiah came together around 300 BCE [as argued by, e.g., Williamson], should the canonical book be read as a Hellenistic composition?”4 Or what if the book(s) came together even later, presupposing major reconstruction in Jerusalem beginning in the mid-third century, as argued by J. Wright?5 What Siedlecki’s question brings to a point is whether Ezra-Nehemiah reflects the historical conditions of the Persian period, or rather those of the tumultuous Diadochean or even later Ptolemaic times. Important to note, however, is that Siedlecki’s suggestion does not mean that no source documents of Ezra–Nehemiah were written beforehand. Rather, their meaning develops further in new historical and literary contexts. Specifically, what historical-economic conditions do the texts addressing economics reflect? Or, even more basic, was there a decisive change between the Persian period and, perhaps, 300 BCE? As my discussion of especially the coinage in Yehud above argues, local Yehud coinage does progress significantly from about 340 BCE into the Diadochean period; however, the political changes were considerably more radical than the economic ones in Yehud.6 The basic parameters for the composition-critical discussion are provided on the one end by the narrative time in the books, which ends somewhere

4 Armin Siedlecki, “Contextualizations of Ezra–Nehemiah,” in Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah: Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader, ed. M. J. Boda and P. L. Redditt, Hebrew Bible Monographs 17 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008), 270. 5 Jacob L. Wright, “A New Model for the Composition of Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E, ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers, and R. Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 346–47. 6 For example, Judea continued issuing its silver coinage when other provinces stopped (in 301 BCE): in this way it represented an exception with regard to coinage, but unexceptional in that its transition from Persian to Hellenistic hegemony was marked by a smooth continuation. Cf. Lipschits and Tal, “The Settlement Archaeology of the Province of Judah.”

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around 430 BCE. On the other end, the earliest attestations of the book in Hebrew come from Qumran.7 To provide a general overview of composition-critical approaches, one might begin the standard model that maintained considerable support into the 1980s.8 This standard model proposes that the book of Ezra-Nehemiah was put together by the combining of three sources: the Nehemiah memoir (Neh 1–7, 11–13), the Ezra memoir (Ezra 7–10), and a source made up of the various letters in Ezra 1–6. These were combined in a process that also added Neh 8– 10. From this perspective, the book brings together material from three different periods: the early return and rebuilding of the Temple (Ezra 1–6), Ezra’s return (Ezra 7–10), and Nehemiah’s return and governorship, and it does so for the latter two especially through the insertion of Neh 8–10. One of the basic observations underlying this position is that the characters of Ezra and Nehemiah do not interact, except in some minor ways in Neh 8–10. If they were historical contemporaries in the tiny territory of Yehud, then one would perhaps expect that them to show up in each other’s narratives.9 Several comments about the MT version (LXX 2 Esdras) versus 1 Esdras are in order. Three positions might be allowed to sum up the debate on the relationship between MT/ 2 Esdras and 1 Esdras.10 Blenkinsopp concludes that 1 Esdras presents “… a Greek translation of one section of an alternative version of Chronicles-Ezra-Nehemiah, probably composed in the second century 7 4QEzra contains 4:2–6, 9–11, and 5:17–6:5. The first fragment of Nehemiah is set to be published by Torlief Elgvin et al., eds., Gleanings from the Caves (New York: T&T Clark, forthcoming). 8 I will not address the relationship between Ezra-Nehemiah/1 Esdras and Chronicles because it does not have a significant bearing on my question. See, however, Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament; Wilhelm Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia samt 3. Esra, HAT 1:20 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1949); Leopold Zunz, “Dibre Hajamim oder die Bücher der Chronik,” in Die gottesdienstlichen Vorträge der Juden, historisch entwickelt: Ein Beitrag zur alterthumsliteratur und biblischen Kritik, zur Literatur- und Religionsgeschichte, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt am Main: Kauffmann, 1892), 21–32; Hugh G. M. Williamson, “Eschatology in Chronicles,” TynB 28 (1977): 115–54; Sara Japhet, “Composition and Chronology in the Book of Ezra-Nehemiah,” in From the Rivers of Babylon to the Highlands of Judah: Collected Studies on the Restoration Period (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 245–67; Tamara Eskenazi Cohn, In an Age of Prose: A Literary Approach to Ezra-Nehemiah, SBLMS 36 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988). 9 Juha Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe: The Development of Ezra 7-10 and Nehemia 8, BZAW 347 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 244, however, demurs. He suggests that Nehemiah might simply not have been interested in scribes or their affairs. 10 Deidre N. Fulton and Gary N. Knoppers, “Lower Criticism and Higher Criticism: The Case of 1 Esdras,” in Was 1 Esdras First? An Investigation into the Priority and Nature of 1 Esdras, ed. Lisbeth S. Fried, AIL 7 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011), 15–16. Note the presentation of different positions in Lisbeth S. Fried, ed., Was 1 Esdras First? An Investigation into the Priority and Nature of 1 Esdras, AIL 7 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011).

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B.C.”11 Alternatively,

1 Esdras could have been part of an older and longer narrative. Finally, Carr for example, while agreeing that 1 Esdras represents the translation of an alternate version, considers its Vorlage an earlier version than the one in the MT.12 In his shorter summary, Böhler lays out the basic evidence and an argument for the priority of 1 Esdras (minus the story of the three paiges in 1 Esd 3:1–5:6).13 The strength of his argument lies in the demonstration that some of the additions in MT/ 2 Esdras might be thematically related. This insight points to at least some of them being a coherent redaction rather than minor unrelated flourishes. As he concludes, the storyline of 1 Esdras places the rebuilding of the city in the same period of the rebuilding of the temple, operations that the MT separates into the early Persian period for the temple and Nehemiah’s governorship for the city. Böhler postulates that the reason for this separation lies in the Maccabean rehabilitation or reliance on the example of Nehemiah to legitimate their rule.14 While the problem is quite complicated, I find several well-known arguments in support of the relative antiquity of the MT book of Ezra-Nehemiah persuasive.15 One is Pakkala’s observation that Neh 7:72, which appears in 1 Esd 9:37, fits the context of Nehemiah, but not of 1 Esdras.16 A second, broader argument is the almost complete omission of Nehemiah from 1 Esdras. While some have argued that this in fact points to the priority of 1 Esdras, more compelling to me is that it is instead a deliberate attempt to obscure the work of Nehemiah. This is especially persuasive for the omission of his name from the reading of the law (1 Esd 9:49, cf. Neh 8:9).17 11

Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase, 87. Also Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, XVII. Carr, Formation of the Hebrew Bible, i.e., 168–69, 192. 13 Dieter Böhler, “On the Relationship between Textual and Literary Criticism: The Two Recensions of the Book of Ezra: Ezra-Neh (MT) and 1 Esdras (LXX),” in The Earliest Text of the Hebrew Bible: The Relationship between the Masoretic Text and the Hebrew Base of the Septuagint Reconsidered, ed. Adrian Schenker, SCS 52 (Atlanta: SBL, 2003), 35–50. 14 Other defenses of the priority of 1 Esd 2, 5–7 are found in Lester L. Grabbe, “Chicken or Egg? Which Came First, 1 Esdras or Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Was 1 Esdras First? An Investigation into the Priority and Nature of 1 Esdras, ed. Lisbeth S. Fried, AIL 7 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011), 31–43; Adrian Schenker, “The Relationship between Ezra-Nehemiah and 1 Esdras,” in Was 1 Esdras First? An Investigation into the Priority and Nature of 1 Esdras, ed. Lisbeth S. Fried, AIL 7 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011), 45–58. 15 This may not rule out the possibility of further expansions to Ezra-Nehemiah after the composition of the Hebrew Vorlage of 1 Esdras. Good candidates for such additions are found in the plusses identified by Böhler, “On the Relationship between Textual and Literary Criticism.” 16 See Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 18; Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes, 24; Dieter Böhler, Die heilige Stadt in Esdras Α und Esra-Nehemia: Zwei Konzeptionen der Wiederherstellung Israels, OBO 158 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 1997), 320–21. 17 Cf. Joseph Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah: A Commentary, OTL (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 71. 12

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Most significant in my mind is the transition that takes place between Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel in MT Ezra 1 and 2 (Sanabassaros and Zorobabel in 1 Esdras), which attempts to obscure the fact that the returnees with Sheshbazzar apparently made no progress on building even an altar (cf. Ezra 3). By changing the order of the events (namely, pushing forward the letter of Ezra 4:6–24 to immediately after Ezra 1:4–11), 1 Esdras smooths over this issue, providing reasons for the difficulties confronting the rebuilding efforts. These reasons cast the Returnees in a better light, which suggests covering over more strongly what could have been taken as impiety (perhaps on the basis of Hag 1). The MT version of Ezra 1–6 allows its leading characters to appear in a much more questionable light. Why is it that Sheshbazzar returns with full support of the Persian emperor but does not complete the building of the Temple? What occurred between Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel? Furthermore, what happened between Zerubbabel and Ezra, and how is the opposition from surrounding peoples to be understood historically? As Halpern articulates, The revision of the sequence in 1 Esdras turns on two considerations: (a) Zerubbabel founded the temple with Jeshua in Darius’s second year, and therefore Ezra 4:4–5, which starts from the time of Cyrus, was retrospective; (b) the Ezra narrative resumes in Darius’s second year after 4:24, so that 4:6–24 was to be placed sequentially before Zerubbabel, containing the specifics of the retrospective introduced in 4:4–5, as background to the rationale laid out in 4:4–5.18

The emphasis on Zerubbabel and lack of concern for Nehemiah in 1 Esdras is a strong argument for the priority of Ezra-Nehemiah. Böhler’s careful work pointing to a redactional work in MT Ezra does not negate the argument that the clearer, more streamlined plot in 1 Esdras fits better as a later revision, even if it had a better Hebrew Vorlage for some verses than what is now found in the MT. Following Blenkinsopp, the correction of the chronology in 1 Esdras that takes place without understanding the rationale for the order of the text, which also severely reduces Nehemiah’s presence in the text, points to 1 Esdras’s reliance on MT.19 This argument, and a number of others, indicate that the basic layout of the argument in the MT version of Ezra was earlier, though not without a redactional history of its own. These arguments form the basis for my focus below on the MT version. For the following chapter, an investigation of the economic dynamics of Ezra 1–8, verse-by-verse composition-critical discussion is unnecessary, though a general conception is. Perhaps most blatantly, my topic reaches across the generally excepted compositional boundaries of the blocks in chs. 1–6 on the one hand and chs. 7–10 on the other. I argue that paying for the temple concerns not only its rebuilding, which takes place in chs. 1–6, but also its daily 18 19

Halpern, “A Historiographic Commentary on Ezra 1-6,” 107. Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 71.

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provision and the return of paraphernalia in chs. 7–8. In favor of my conception is that the Aramaic letters continue through chap. 7. And, as Karrer-Grube notes, “The issue of ‘building and supporting the temple’ provides a strong connection between the textual units of Ezra 1–6 and 7–8. After that the issue seems to be closed.”20 It might well be compared to the narrative arc running from Exod 25–Lev 9. Pakkala actually suggests that a number of the texts dealing with this topic belong to the same redaction, namely the one that added the earliest layer of the rescript in Ezra 7.21 Nonetheless, there is also good reason to consider chs. 1–6 on their own. This material, on first glance, addresses the early period of Persian rule before Ezra enters the scene. It covers the reigns of Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes – or rather Cyrus, Artaxerxes, and Darius. It is difficult to deduce the chronological order of the events from their narrative order, and this difficulty has given rise to numerous interpretations. Japhet, to take one example of a commentator that argues for a unified composition, understands the compiler (in her view, there was very little composing done by this figure) as having taken various available documents and arranging them to fit his purpose.22 This purpose was not always the original intent of the documents, so she terms them “mis-employments,” and they present the best opportunities to access the compiler’s intent. Two of these are the representation of all Jews as returnees and that the sole blame for delay in Temple construction lies with outside forces. However, it is possible to use a form-critical argument to explain these “misemployments” in a meaningful manner. Halpern detects more active shaping in these chapters, contending that the underlying structure of chs. 1–6 is to be found in the traditional ancient Near Eastern form of royal temple-building inscriptions.23 As such, he is able to identify a reason for the rearranging of the documents according to an identifiable pattern. The result of Halpern’s view is that the form of the MT can be taken as meaningful. This does not necessarily imply anything about the date of the text, 20 Christiane Karrer-Grube, “Scrutinizing the Conceptual Unity of Ezra and Nehemiah,” in Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah: Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader, ed. M. J. Boda and P. L. Redditt, Hebrew Bible Monographs 17 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008), 143. 21 Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 260–62. Pakkala views this as an addition to the Ezra material alone, however, in contrast to the block model of Williamson. 22 Sara Japhet, “‘History’ and ‘Literature’ in the Persian Period: The Restoration of the Temple,” in From the Rivers of Babylon to the Highlands of Judah: Collected Studies on the Restoration Period (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 152–68. 23 Halpern, “A Historiographic Commentary on Ezra 1-6,” 85. See also Victor Avigdor Hurowitz, I Have Built You an Exalted House: Temple Building in the Bible in Light of Mesopotamian and Northwest Semitic Writings, JSOTSup 115 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), 113–18.

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however, except that the redactor responsible for the organization of the text worked with a large narratival scope in mind. For the historical location, it may be significant that the redactor retained the plot development in Ezra 4 that the opposition came against building the wall under Artaxerxes, rather than earlier in the Persian period. This text proves quite difficult for the narrative development, perhaps suggesting that the redactor felt compelled to retain this historical perspective, even though it required more textual acrobatics to make it support the shape of the narrative under construction. Bedford takes up a counter-position, arguing that Ezra 1–4:5 represents a tendentious unhistorical account, and that historical memory should instead be sought after in Ezra 5–6.24 He places the composition of Ezra 1–6 around 400 BCE, which accords better with the historical reflections in Ezra 4, where conflict with the Samarians appears. In this view, not the Returnees, but rather those who stayed in Yehud bore responsibility for rebuilding the temple.25 While, following Kratz and Bedford, parts of Ezra 5–6 may be closer to the historical reality of the rebuilding of the temple, this does not invalidate the Persian-period composition of the rest of Ezra 1–4 (Bedford dates chs. 1–6 to 400), nor does it necessarily render the events of chs. 1–4 pure fiction. As I have indicated above, understanding the form-critical intentions of the building report of Ezra 1–6 allows for the various pieces of Ezra 1–6 to be re-arranged in order to fit a narratival, rather than chronological purpose. Two examples may suffice to make this point: 4:6–23 provides an explicit example of opposition. Though set within the context of building the temple in chs. 1–6, it explicitly notes that it comes from the reign of Artaxerxes and addresses the building of the wall.26 A second example is the silence with regard to the lack of progress made by Sheshbazzar on the rebuilding of the temple in the transition from discussion of the return he led to the one led by Zerubbabel in Ezra 1:11–2:1. From these observations, I conclude that, while the narrative does not develop chronologically – and 4:6–23 make this apparent! – the actual intent of the narrative consists in (1) showing that there was Persian imperial support for the temple rebuilding effort; (2) there was resistance to some rebuilding efforts, even if the prominent opposition was really to the rebuilding of the city walls, not the temple; and (3) there were exiles who played important roles in the efforts. In fact, what may really have been missing for the successful completion of the temple rebuilding efforts was not peace with the surrounding peoples nor adequate financial support, but rather prophetic approval,

24

Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, 110. Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, 52–53. 26 This follows the notion of Ezra 4:24 as a “repetitive resumption” found in Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 56–57 and earlier interpreters. 25

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as indicated in Ezra 5:1–2.27 In the end, my argument is that the (almost) tortured chronology of the section attempts to use already accepted traditions – whether they are historical or not is beside the point here – and forms them according to its form-critical intentions. If the pieces were completely fictitious, however, there would have been little need to construct the narrative in this manner. Turning to a different issue, perhaps the biggest challenge to dating a significant portion of the text to the Persian period arises from the work of Grätz. He argues that Ezra 7:12–26 reflects Hellenistic rather than Persian imperial custom. The action described in this chapter is, in his view, a royal endowment. Decisive for his argument is that there are no Persian-period parallels for the Ezra document, so the Greek endowment form should be understood as the base genre for this biblical text.28 However, in order to identify the genre of Ezra 7 as a royal endowment of the Greek-Hellenistic sort, Grätz must claim that Ezra 7:26 results from an innerbiblical borrowing of Deut 17:11–12, rather than perhaps finding a comparative example in the Udjahorresnet inscription or elsewhere.29 Furthermore, the question of comparative texts is especially where Grätz’s argument comes under critique. In order to support his claim, Grätz takes several questionable steps. For one, he compares Ezra 7 with a Persian-period culturally Greek text, the Letoon trilingual. He points out that it is the earliest known example of a Greek-Hellenistic endowment. He interprets this evidence to suggest that it indicates that no such text could exist in Aramaic for Yehud in the Persian period.30 This conclusion in itself might be persuasive, but it misses the fact that the Persian satrap embraces the foreign cultural practice of a subjugated people. Such an action could also point to the flexibility of Persian policy toward subjugated states. Grätz also excludes the Cyrus Cylinder as an apt parallel for Ezra 7. While not directly stated, he seems to exclude it because it does not represent a fundamental break in policy from Neo-Babylonian and even more so Assyrian (Assurbanipal) policy toward Babylon.31 However, just exactly why this should eliminate the Cyrus Cylinder as an important tradition-

27

Thomas Krüger, “Esra 1-6: Struktur und Konzept,” BN 41 (1988): 69. He argues that the success of the second attempt (ch. 5) where the first attempt (3:7–13) failed displays the importance of prophecy: “So hebt die Struktur von Esr 1-6 die Bedeutung der Institution Prophetie – repräsentiert durch Haggai und Sacharja – für das Gelingen des Tempelbaus als der ersten Phase der Restitution ‘Israels’ im Lande hervor, die programmatisch schon 1,1 mit dem Hinweis auf ‘das Wort Jahwes, (das) aus dem Munde Jeremias (ergangen war)’, angedeutet hatte” (ibid.). 28 Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes, 138–40. 29 This follows Schmid, “Persian Imperial Authorization.” 30 Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes, 138. 31 Ibid., 222.

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6. The Historical and Composition-Critical Setting of Ezra-Nehemiah

historical predecessor text for Ezra 7 remains unclear. A similar line of reasoning governs his analysis and rejection of the Udjahorresnet stela as well. Here the goal of his argument appears primarily twofold: (1) to weaken the possibility that there were regional law codices that were embraced by the Persians for subjugated kingdoms; and (2) to suggest that the Persian rulers by and large reduced support for the Egyptian temples or even began to lay heavy tax burdens all except for three of them.32 Nonetheless, Udjahorresnet does tell of a similar restoration of a temple, much like Ezra 7 claims to do. Regardless of the Persian imperial motivation for carrying out this action, the texts remain similar. Grätz seems to be operating under the premise that if there is not a distinctive break between Babylonian and Persian policy with regard to the issue of subjugated peoples, laws, and cults, then this renders Ezra 7 Hellenistic. Other possibilities remain open, and in fact the parallel texts of the Cyrus Cylinder and Udjahorresnet stela indicate such actions by Persian rulers. The Hellenistic royal endowments thus become more applicable for the early reception history of Ezra 7. A further issue that continues to occupy interpreters is the historical question of the time of Ezra – assuming there was an historical Ezra. Two proposals are common: one line of reasoning accepts the biblical portray and places Ezra’s return to Jerusalem prior to Nehemiah’s in the 460s.33 A second group postulates that Ezra actually came around 400.34 Other proposals have also been suggested.35 Regardless of the conclusion adopted, both allow for composition of the Ezra material by the end of the Persian period or the beginning of the Diadochean period. Both of these approaches would reflect the economic conditions of the mid to late Persian period. In my view there is no overwhelming evidence that indicates that the book of Ezra arises from a Hellenistic context: there is very little suggestion of the political turmoil of the kind that arose after the fall of the Persian Empire,36 if the omission of this thematic perspective (Tendenz) is accorded some weight. Turning to Nehemiah, the form and source-critical arguments for the consensus position dovetail. Von Rad – and Mowinckel before him – understand Neh 1–7, 11–13 as a votive inscription that would be found a temple, much like the Egyptian Udjahorresnet one.37 Von Rad argues specifically for the unity of the Nehemiah Memoir in spite of its apparent thematic diversity, supporting this claim with the similar scenaria in the Late Egyptian inscriptions.38 32

Ibid., 229–40. Japhet, “Composition and Chronology,” 259. 34 Klaus-Dietrich Schunck, Nehemia, BKAT 23:2 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2009), XVI. 35 Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, XXIV, places Ezra sometime post-433. 36 Schmid, The Old Testament, 183–209 provides an overview. 37 Gerhard von Rad, “Die Nehemia-Denkschrift,” ZAW 35 (1964): 176–87. 38 Ibid., 181–82; Blenkinsopp, “The Mission of Udjahorresnet.” 33

6. The Historical and Composition-Critical Setting of Ezra-Nehemiah

219

These chapters are reliant on a first-person point of view, which holds them together. In contrast to von Rad’s argument, many scholars separate out a “wall building narrative” in chs. 1–4, 6–7, 12:27–43 from the social-economic concerns of chs. 5, 13.39 The question is whether they were brought together as the Nehemiah Memoir – so Schunck,40 or if the socio-economic concerns of chs. 5 and 13 represent a later layer in the composition.41 Nehemiah 8–10, which bring together the figures of Ezra and Nehemiah, are seen as the last compositional stage of the book. My discussions more or less consider the material in chs. 5 and 13, though chs. 3 and 10 will also be addressed. The reason for the limited focus on Neh 10 is that it is one of the latest, if not the latest, chapters in Ezra–Nehemiah, and it also can be taken generally as a reworking of the material in Neh 13.42 As such, of any of the chapters in Nehemiah with considerable economic concerns, it may fall closest to the Hellenistic period. With regard to the building report and socio-economic concerns, I find Wright’s argument with regard to Neh 5 convincing that ...the building narrative did not originally comprise 5:1–19, the section in which Nehemiah recounts his socioeconomic reforms. The analysis has shown that Nehemiah’s unwillingness to take a break from the work on the wall in 6:2-4* dovetails with the assiduousness and celerity reported in 4:15-17*.43

This assumption means, on the one hand, that the socio-economic issues that arise need not be brought in direct connection with the 52-day building project. The relatively loose manner in which 5:1 follows on 4:17 [Eng. 4:23] is one indication in support of this interpretation. This beginning points to the excursus nature of Neh 5. 39 Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xxiv–xxviii; Titus Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemias: Zur literarischen Eigenart, traditionsgeschichtlichen Prägung und innerbiblischen Rezeption des Ich-Berichts Nehemias, OBO 183 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht; Freiburg, Switz.: Presses Universitaires, 2002), 127. 40 Schunck, Nehemia, xiii–xiv:“eine Nehemia-Denkschrift in Neh 1,1b-4.11b; 2,1-29; 3,33-7,5*.72a; 11,1-2; 12,31-32.37-40; 13,4-31*. Sie ist im Ich-Stil abgefaßt und wurde von Nehemia aus einer von ihm verfaßten älteren Mauerbau-Erzählung...einfügte, und einer ebenfalls von ihm abgefaßten älteren Nehemia-Denkschrift...zusammengesetzt.” 41 Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 261; Jacob L. Wright, Rebuilding Identity: The NehemiahMemoir and Its Earliest Readers, BZAW 348 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004). 42 While this is a generally accepted position, note the strong challenge that Neh 10 is instead an early source, not originally related to Nehemiah himself, that Nehemiah then takes heed of when formulating his reforms, recently made by Mark J. Boda, “Redaction in the Book of Nehemiah: A Fresh Proposal,” in Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah: Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader, ed. M. J. Boda and P. L. Redditt, Hebrew Bible Monographs 17 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2008), esp. 47. 43 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 163. Contra, for example, Schottroff, “Arbeit und Sozialer Konflikt”; Kessler, Sozialgeschichte des alten Israel.

220

6. The Historical and Composition-Critical Setting of Ezra-Nehemiah

Yet, one must acknowledge, however, the current setting of Neh 5 as an “Excursus” could as well have resulted from the abbreviated current version of the Nehemiah Memoir, if the current book includes (generally) excerpts from a more elaborate document (Blenkinsopp), which precludes the model of redactional growth found in Kratz and Wright.44 Nonetheless, for my purposes, the main question is whether these narratives fit within the broad parameters of the mid to late Persian period, and there seems little reason to doubt this.

44

Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase, 92.

Chapter 7

Who Pays? The Economics of a Theological Question in Ezra 1–8 The narrative of Ezra 1–8 can be bound together by the overarching question, “Who pays?” with regard to the construction and maintenance of the Second Temple.1 Japhet similarly notes, “Solomon [and David!] financed the First Temple from his own money and treasuries, as one part in a larger series of building projects, and the same was true of Herod. How was this fundamental problem to be solved in the Restoration Period?”2 As I discuss above (Section 5.2), P addresses the question differently, making the materials for its sanctuary arise completely out of the possessions of the Israelites themselves – both in the form of free-will offerings and a poll tax (these may be different textual strata). P also portrays the Israelites as responsible for the building itself. Chronicles similarly narrates that everything took place at the expense and behest of the Israelites: David laid aside vast quantities of materials that were augmented by the leaders of the tribes. Within the larger question of “who pays?” there are various categories of economics and economized thinking in Ezra. One distinction that can be drawn is in terms of the commodification or non-commodification of various goods and services. To begin, I will discuss several texts that fit within the perspective of a non-commoditized approach to luxury goods. In this way of thinking, as discussed at various points above, goods are understood within a non-, or perhaps better, an extra-economic system of value. Characteristic of this approach to value is the discussion of the luxury items brought to the Temple in Ezra 1:7–11, a second list in Ezra 2:69–71 (cf. Neh 7), and the vessels in 7:19 (cf. 8:25, 27–28, 33) The passage in Ezra 1 is preceded by the mention that those going up to Jerusalem were laden down with gold, silver, possessions, cattle, precious goods, and the free-will contributions of those in their communities (or perhaps in their sanctuaries, if ‫ המקמות‬and ‫ מקמו‬in v. 4 play off the all-important ‫מקום‬ chosen by Yahweh in Deut 12). These verses indicate the giving of quantities, 1 Cf. Karrer-Grube, “Scrutinizing the Conceptual Unity of Ezra and Nehemiah,” 143: “The issue of ‘building and supporting the temple’ provides a strong connection between the textual units of Ezra 1–6 and 7–8. After that the issue seems to be closed.” 2 Japhet, “The Temple in the Restoration Period,” 197.

222

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

which are neutral in terms of whether they could be seen or used as commodities or not. If they are all sacred goods, which would be the case if the ‫מקומות‬ refer to sanctuaries, then they are all goods designated for the divine, and thus less likely to be exchangeable according to an easy calculation. Their value lies not only in the price of their materials plus labor, but in the extra-economic symbolic realm. In general this section seems to play off allusions to the exodus narrative, in this case the “plundering of the Egyptians” in Exod 3:22; 11:2; and 12:35.3 Ezra 1:7–11 recounts the vessels that were taken by Nebuchadnezzar from the Jerusalem temple upon its capture or destruction in the early sixth century. The first verses focus on the literal action of the Persian king bringing out these very items from Jerusalem’s Yahweh temple and then their individual accounting by the treasurer before Sheshbazzar. Specific mention is made of ‫אגרטלי‬ ‫זהב‬, ‫אגרטלי כסף‬, ‫כפרורי זהב‬, and ‫כפורי כסף‬. They are seemingly unique pieces according to v. 7, where they are named ‫כלי בית יהוה‬.4 What role does this list play here? It clearly links the First Temple with these later actions, playing off the well-established ancient Near Eastern traditional reports of gifts of booty to temples. For example, there are other records of the return of temple furniture and cultic paraphernalia, such as the return of Marduk image by Esarhaddon5 and the Philistines’ return of the Ark in 1 Sam 4. These actions communicate homage to the deity, and they are often done in search of the deity’s patronage, as in Ezra 6:10. Given the context in Ezra (also in 6:5), the action seems to underline that Yahweh is God of the whole world, who even controls the king of all kingdoms (whether Cyrus, Darius, or Artaxerxes). 3

Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 6. He sees similarity to 2 Isa: a new exodus in form of the old one. It should be noted that the Exodus passages speak of articles of silver and gold and clothes, which supports Rudolph’s contention. 4 The text of MT is quite problematic in these verses (1:9–11): (1) for v. 9 ‫מחלפים‬: LXX reads παρηλλαγµένα, “assorted items.” Other suggestions for ḫlpnm: from Ugaritic: “knives” (UT 19:968, but WUS, 1035 as plait of hair, with Jdt 16:13, 19). Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 5, notes that Bewer splits the word differently, as ‫חלפים אלףם‬, and sees the second word as a double writing. Galling (Kurt Galling, Die Bücher der Chronik, Esra, Nehemia, ATD 12 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1954]) thinks it better to instead read a hophal part. ‫ מחלפים‬and translates “Ersatzgarnitur” (ZurB similarly reads “Ersatzstücke). I would follow Rudolph’s suggestion (Esra und Nehemia, 5) to translate the word as “abändern,” which would have been an editing mark in the margin. He is supported by Myers, Ezra, Nehemiah, 5. So the end result is 1029 silver basins. (2) Also for ‫ משׁנים‬in v. 10 “zu ändern” (Rudolph); or ZurB: “Silberschächen (‫כפורי‬: Dt: “Schälchen”) der anderen Art.” (3) The number of vessels in the list does not equal the final total in v. 11. 5 Barbara Nevling Porter, “Gods’ Statues as a Tool of Assyrian Political Policy: Esarhaddon’s Return of Marduk to Babylon,” in Religious Transformations and Socio-Political Change: Eastern Europe and Latin America, Religion and Society 33 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1993), 9–24.

7.1. Ezra 2:68–69

223

What does the list of valuables say about economics? By keeping with ancient Near Eastern traditions of donating booty to a temple, it does not in that way display anything out of the ordinary in terms of traditional conceptions: the rebuilding of a temple requires divine approval and a royal builder. In other words, Ezra addresses the same problematic that Hag 1 has in mind. There seems to be little indication of a move toward “economic thinking” in terms of commoditized goods per se here, there is rather an emphasis on the non-exchangeable nature of these symbolically valuable goods. Economic exchange is subsumed by a religious-politically laden gift exchange. Economic profit does not stand in the spotlight. The remainder of my discussion of Ezra 1–8 is, however, devoted to observations and discussion of passages where economic motifs and terminology appear in ways that may presuppose the existence of a more significant amount of underlying entrepreneurial type exchange. In order to demonstrate this situation and the way the texts of Ezra respond to it, I will move through the chapters of Ezra 1–8, first noting salient economic features of the texts, and then considering the implications of these economic features for the texts’ formulations of the Yehud community and their conception of God.

7.1. Ezra 2:68–69 7.1. Ezra 2:68–69

This passage continues the concerns found in 1:4–11. In the first chapter the returnees collect valuables from their neighbors and the Persian treasury for delivery to Jerusalem. These goods including some particular items whose value cannot merely be measured economically, such as bowls used in the First Temple that are valuable beyond their economic worth for that reason. In 2:68– 69, like in the first chapter, donations are made for the rebuilding of the temple that still lay in the future. Ezra 2:68–69 ‫ומראשׁי האבות‬ ‫בבואם לבית יהוה‬ ‫אשׁר בירושׁלם‬ ‫התנדבו לבית האלהים‬ ‫להעמידו על־מכונו‬ ‫ככחם‬ ‫נתנו לאוצר המלאכה‬ ‫זהב דרכמונים שׁשׁ־רבאות ואלף‬ ‫וכסף מנים חמשׁת אלפים‬ ‫וכתנת כהנים מאה‬

And some of the heads of the clans, when they entered to the house of Yahweh that [was] in Jerusalem, they voluntarily contributed for the house of God for erecting it upon its site According to their ability they gave to the work fund Gold: sixty-one thousand drachmas And silver: five thousand minas And priestly garments: one hundred

224

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

Ezra 2 as a whole parallels the genealogy found in Neh 7. This particular section (vv. 68–69), parallel for the most part to Neh 7:69–71, provides several features important for my discussion. First, and most obvious when reading with an eye for the rise of coinage, is the mention of drachmas or darics (‫ )דרכמונים‬in v. 69. This term only appears in these two passages (3x in Neh 7), though the similar ‫ אדרכמונים‬also appears in Ezra 8:27 and 1 Chr 29:7 (in 1 Chronicles it refers to gifts for the First Temple). The connection to 1 Chr 29:7, or all of vv. 6–9, is significant because in both Ezra 2 and 1 Chr 29 the leaders of the people augment the gifts by the royal personages for temple construction. There is a dispute over whether this term refers to “drachmas” or Persian darics.6 In 2:69 the returnees give 61,000 gold darkəmônîm.7 This appears to be a clear anachronism – if understood as darics – because these coins did not exist at the time of Cyrus, the setting for at least Ezra 1.8 They were also not around at the beginning of the reign of Darius I,9 which – though there is no year given – more likely should be imagined as the temporal setting for chap. 2, given that the leader in this portrayal of the returnees is Zerubbabel (2:2, cf. 5:2).10 If the term should fit in the late sixth or early fifth century, in line with 6

Jacob M. Myers, Ezra, Nehemiah, AB 15 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965), 14, makes brief mention of the two possibilities and translates “drachmas,” but without explaining his reasoning. Cf. Joachim Becker, Esra, Nehemia, NEchtB (Würzburg: Echter, 1990), 24: “Statt »(Gold) dariken« eher »(griechische) Drachmen« (darkemonīm, noch Neh 770f). In 827 und 1Chr 297 dagegen »Dariken« (’adarkōnīm).” A number of translations (ZurB, NASV, NJPS) use “drachmas”; NRSV sticks with darics. Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 24, adds: “‫ דרכמונים‬wegen des ‫ מ‬nicht Dareiken, sondern Drachmen (so auch GA).” 7 The donation amounts diverge in the various versions of this episode: Neh 7:69–8:1 has 41,000 + 4,200 minas of silver, while 1 Esd 5:44 has 1,000 gold minas + 5,000 minas of silver. NJPS translates 6,100 drachmas. 8 Marty E. Stevens, Temples, Tithes, and Taxes: The Temple and the Economic Life of Ancient Israel (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2006), 46–47. Ian Carradice (“The 'Regal' Coinage of the Persian Empire,” 73) notes, “the gold coins that are recognized to be the earliest, and indeed probably the only gold coins that can be given a sixth century date, have been identified with the term Κροίσειος στατήρ.” 9 Williamson, “Eschatology in Chronicles,” 124; Carradice, “The ‘Regal’ Coinage,” 75– 76. Carradice summarizes (ibid., 75): “The term daric was used from the fifth century by Greeks as a descriptive term for Persian coins, especially in gold. Its earliest appearance in literature is in Herodotus 7, 38, where we read the story of the meeting between King Xerxes and the wealthy Lydian, Pythius, who claimed to possess nearly four million στατήρων Δαρεικών (χρυσίου). It is now generally accepted that the word daric derives from the name of Darius I, as Pollux explicitly states. Darics are mentioned frequently on surviving Greek inscriptions, but the earliest references date only from 429/8.” 10 Some interpreters (Bob Becking, “Ezra’s Re-enactment of the Exile,” in Leading Captivity Captive: “The Exile” as History and Ideology, ed. L. L. Grabbe; JSOTSup 278 [Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1998], 40-61; Lisbeth S. Fried, “The ‘am hā’areṣ in Ezra 4:4 and Persian Administration,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006], 123-45) attempt to deal with the difficulties

7.2. Ezra 3:7

225

the reign of Darius I, then the term could only mean “drachmas.” However, assuming a later date for the text, both understandings are possible. Given, however, that the Greek use of gold for their coins is rare at best, darics is more likely intended, despite the added “‫מ‬.” More importantly, these gold coins are attributed a particular denomination. This likely implies that they were counted rather than weighed, a fact that might also point to its later date, which contrasts to the measure of silver by weight (5,000 minas). On a smaller note, the final part of the gift is 100 tunics for the priests, clearly not an “economic” valuation.11 The purpose of these particular gifts, such as the priestly garments and vessels from the First Temple, are to demonstrate and create continuity between the preexilic cult and the future resumption of Jerusalem temple worship. While not the only method by which this continuity was displayed, the leaders in Ezra 2:68–69 show their economic allegiance to the temple through the contribution of costly goods. In short, economics functions at most as a category for cultic and cultural continuity. This motivation, like the text from Ezra 1, remains within the bounds of biblical tradition. Exodus and 1 Chr 29:6–9 similarly portray societal leaders (in addition to the monarch) as contributing freewill offerings for the construction of the sanctuary.

7.2. Ezra 3:7 7.2. Ezra 3:7

This verse comes amidst the actions of the reported second wave of returnees. Like in Ezra 2, the activity here takes place under the leadership of Zerubbabel, rather than Sheshbazzar and the first wave of returnees. The passage begins with a cultic gathering for Tabernacles (3:4). It then moves to addressing the first phases of the building of the Second Temple. Presumably the intended time is chronological, but there could be a significant gap of time glossed over between 3:6 and 3:7, when the text moves to detail the payments given for the delivery of materials and actual construction. The reason for positing a break is that 3:6 ends by asserting that the foundation had not yet been laid, but in 3:7 payment is given for work completed.

in the historical progression by arguing for the dedication of the Second Temple under Darius II. 11 Cf. Exod 28:4, 39, 40; 29:5, 9, 39:27; 40:14; Lev 8:7, 13; 10:5; 16:4. Grätz (Das Edikt des Artaxerxes, 97–98) concludes, “Zunächst wird durch das Motiv der spendenden Gemeinde in Esr 7 eine Kontinuität nicht nur zur ersten Gruppe der Immigranten (Esr 2,68f.), sondern auch zur (chronistischen) Gemeinde des ersten Tempels sowie zur Gemeinde der Stifthütte erzielt.”

226

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

Specifically, the Judeans “gave ‫ ”כסף‬to the stonemasons and craftsmen; and “food, drink, and oil” to the Sidonians and the Tyrians for the cedar. Two particular questions arise with regard to economic ramifications of this depiction: (1) Why are the Phoenicians paid in kind, while the stonemasons and craftsmen receive bullion or coins? (2) Can the nature of the silver payment be determined more specifically? It is surprising, given that the Phoenician cities developed coinage earlier than the Judeans (and Samarians), that the silver payments were for the local workers while basic provisions plus oil were accorded the Phoenicians. A preliminary explanation can be made by means of inner-biblical exegesis: Ezra 3:7 has 1 Kgs 5:23–25 [ET: 5:9–11] (cf. 2 Chr 2:15–16) in mind:12 Ezra 3:7 ‫ויתנו־כסף‬ ‫לחצבים ולחרשׁים‬ ‫ומאכל ומשׁתה ושׁמן לצדנים‬ ‫ולצרים‬ ‫להביא עצי ארזים מן־הלבנון‬ ‫אל־ים יפוא‬ ‫כרשׁיון כורשׁ מלך־פרס עליהם‬

And they gave silver to the stonemasons and to the craftsmen; and food and drink and oil to the Sidonians and the Tyrians for bringing cedar wood from the Lebanon to the sea (harbor) of Joppa, in accordance with the authorization of Cyrus, king of Persia, concerning them.

1 Kgs 5:23–25 ‫עבדי ירדו‬ ‫מן־הלבנון ימה‬ ‫ואני אשׂימם דברות בים‬ ‫עד־המקום‬ ‫אשׁר־תשׁלח אלי‬ ‫ונפצתים שׁם‬ ‫ואתה תשׂא‬ ‫ואתה תעשׂה את־חפצי לתת לחם‬ ‫ביתי‬ ‫ויהי חירום נתן לשׁלמה‬ ‫עצי ארזים ועצי ברושׁים‬ ‫כל־חפצו‬ ‫ושׁלמה נתן לחירם‬ ‫עשׂרים אלף כר חטים‬ ‫מכלת לביתו‬ ‫ועשׂרים כר שׁמן כתית‬ ‫כה־יתן שׁלמה לחירם שׁנה בשׁנה‬

My servants shall bring it down from the Lebanon to the sea; I will make it into rafts to go by sea to the place you indicate to me. I will have them broken up there for you to take away. And you shall meet my needs by providing food for my household. So Hiram supplied for Solomon timber of cedar and cypress [for] his every need. Solomon in turn gave Hiram twenty thousand cors of wheat, food for his household, and twenty cors of fine oil. Solomon gave this to Hiram year by year.

12 Note the parallels to 1 Kings and Chronicles in Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, 90 n. 5.

7.2. Ezra 3:7

227

This intertextual link plus the actual real-world conditions explain the exchange with the Tyrians. The inclusion of the Sidonians may also be explained by way of inner-biblical exegesis: they appear in 1 Kgs 5:20 [ET: 5:6] – “… for you know that there is no one among us who knows how to cut timber like the Sidonians” – because of their skill as woodworkers. It appears that Ezra works these references together, a feature also found in Chronicles’ retelling of the construction of the First Temple (1 Chr 22:4).13 The payment in kind is striking: one would expect payment over longer distances to take place in metals; however, the Phoenician cities’ needs for agricultural products might logically have outweighed this typical means of trade. Furthermore, it may very well have fit the Phoenician merchants’ interests (if indeed merchants were charged with the transport of the cedar) to fill their cargo holds with agricultural goods from the Yehud community that they could then sell upon arrival back in Tyre and Sidon, or at some other destination. This perspective is underscored by the biblical evidence found in Ezek 27:17, where grain products appear first in a list of solely agricultural goods that “Judah and the land of Israel” trade with Tyre. The export of oil from Yehud also comes as no surprise, given its prominence in the Neo-Assyrian period exports from the region as well.14 The pay in silver, however, remains inexplicable from the allusions to 1 Kgs 5, and perhaps the reference to silver therefore points to the changes in the exchange practices. Might this suggest a temporal lag in the time of writing? This is a problematic suggestion on its own because silver was used even much earlier as a means of exchange (easily as far back as the second millennium).15 The form of this silver payment is not designated more closely, so it is unclear whether it was coined. NRSV translates “money,” while ZurB has “Silber.” Only external arguments about the historical setting of the composition of this text could provide support for various positions on whether the silver was meant to be counted (as coins) or weighed as bullion. One might suggest that the difference in means of payment results from the denominations of coinage or amounts paid: Yehud coinage was only issued in small denominations. Yet these events are set (if in the time of Darius I as the narrative implies) quite early historically for coinage to be considered a widelyused means of payment, especially given that Yehud coins date predominantly to the fourth century. Nonetheless, given that the Phoenicians were quite able traders in weighed bullion back to the ninth century, this distinction need not have concerned them greatly. Furthermore, the presence of silver coils in Judah 13

As a side note, the similarities in coinage between Yehud and Tyre would support the claim for significant economic and political relations between the two, while Yehud’s connection with Sidon appears more distanced (unlike the relationship between Sidon and Samaria). 14 Faust and Weiss, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World,” 77–78. 15 Cf. Powell, “Money in Mesopotamia.”

228

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

in the preexilic period also provides a solution for the narratival time of the Darius I. What can be concluded, prima facie, is that the text imagines that there was enough silver on hand to pay the masons and craftsmen. This also implies that it was amenable enough to them and that there was something they could exchange it for: thus there was exchange of silver for basic goods. Attention should also be paid to the identity of the workers. The syntax of 3:7 clearly separates the masons and carpenters from the Tyrians and Sidonians, likely pointing to the conclusion that the masons and carpenters were members of the Yehud community. This observation suggests that the Yehud community used silver/money in some type of exchange economy at the time of composition, so there was some market in which the workers could acquire goods (such as the one portrayed in Neh 13). The text portrays the Yehud community as one engaged in at least minimum levels of exchange, and this exchange functions through a different medium than that given to the workers from Phoenicia, a foreign Persian province charged with the import of prized building materials. Most central is that the text differentiates between the payment in goods to the foreigners and – explicitly – in ‫ כסף‬to the construction workers. Perhaps there is also some intent to retain the silver for the Yehud community. This argument could be made in line with Neh 5:4 – “We borrowed silver for the king’s tribute …” It would imply that silver was a precious commodity in Yehud because one needed to pay the Persian taxes in silver, and Yehud possessed no silver mines.16 It is more likely, however, that the decision was specifically based on the market preferences of the laborers: Tyrians wanted agricultural goods to trade, while the Judean workers wanted silver in order to buy their necessities locally. Much Persian tax was paid in kind or in labor, so the emphasis on tax payments in silver is instead a modern construct. In sum, the importance of this verse in terms of economics and society is that it distinguishes between the payments to foreign importers and the payments to the local craftsmen. Economic decisions serve to separate the Yehud community even from positively-viewed foreigners – or at least those foreigners that supported the efforts of the Yehud community (contra those striking fear into their midst in 3:3).

16 Cf. Herodotus, Hist. 3.89; Kippenberg, Religion und Klassenbildung im antiken Judäa, 52–53: “Die judäischen Haushalte der persischen Zeit sind keine geschlossenen, allein für den Eigenbedarf produzierenden Oiken gewesen. Vor allem die Entrichtung einer Grundsteuer in Silbergeld schloß solche Autarkie aus. Da Judäa nicht über Silberbergwerge verfügte, auch eine nennenswerte handwerkliche Produktion – etwa den attischen Keramik-Ergasterien vergleichbar – nicht existierte, oblag die Last der Erwirtschaftung der vom Staat eingezogenen Werte ganz den bäuerlichen Betrieben. Sie waren gezwungen, ein Surplus zu erzeugen und dieses gegen Silbergeld zu verkaufen.” I address the problematic nature of Kippenberg’s thesis below in Section 8.2. on Neh 5.

7.3. Ezra 4:13, 20

229

7.3. Ezra 4:13, 20 7.3. Ezra 4:13, 20

The narrative in this chapter begins with Zerubbabel, Jeshua, and the clan heads rejecting the offer from the surrounding peoples to help with the rebuilding of the temple. This rejection then leads to the discontinuation of the rebuilding work for an extensive period (4:1–5). The transition from vv. 1–5 to verses 6– 23 is quite difficult: while 4:1–5 (and chs. 1–3) focus on the rebuilding of the temple, 4:6–23 turns to the rebuilding of the city and its walls. This difficulty is underlined by a comparison with the arrangement of the material in 1 Esdras, which separates 4:6–24 from 4:1–5, placing the Aramaic letter much earlier in the book.17 The placement of this letter here can be best understood as taking up an exemplary situation of how the foes from the surrounding provinces hindered the work on the house of Yahweh. Verse 6 is very general in terms of whom it indicts: naming simply “against the dwellers of Yehud and Jerusalem” during the reign of Ahasuerus. Exactly how these verses fit in the context of 4:1–5, however, is quite difficult. The seams in the various sources or layers of the text are quite conspicuous here.18 Nonetheless, the Aramaic letter of 4:7–23, and the thematically related 7:12–26 (esp. v. 24), can be taken to display a situation understood to have occurred in the reign of Artaxerxes. I would argue that the insertion of this section results in the highlighting of economic concerns. In fact, an economically oriented accusation provides the necessary progression of the plot from here forward to chapter 7. In vv. 7–23 one finds a letter by Rehum, Shimshai, and associates to Artaxerxes, his response to them, and Rehum and Shimshai’s subsequent action forcing a halt to work on Jerusalem. The reason for the complaint by Rehum and Shimshai to Artaxerxes lies in the fact that the Judeans would discontinue their payments of three kinds of taxes if allowed to finish rebuilding the walls 17

It appears as 1 Esd 2:15–25, and follows directly after Ezra 1. Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, 51: “Whereas the Hebrew framework [of Ezra 1-6] depends on the Aramaic parts, and of these Ezra 4.8ff. depends on the Hebrew introduction in 4.5, 6f., the Aramaic chronicle in Ezra 5-6 is independent in substance. So here we have a separate earlier piece of tradition forming the basis of the narrative Ezra 1-6, which is dependent on it.” Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 57, explains the section as a support for the casting of the Northerners in the role of antagonists, surrounded by a resumptive repetition in 4:24. Cf. Tamara Eskenazi Cohn, In an Age of Prose: a Literary Approach to Ezra-Nehemiah, SBLMS 36 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), 55, contends: “It is commonly presumed that this correspondence is misplaced ... I suggest, instead, that the specific references to city and walls, far from being subsidiary to the main purpose of the present location of the letters, are crucial to Ezra-Nehemiah's definition of the house of God. They establish, in their present location, a necessary connection between the house of God and the city walls: building the one is tantamount to building the other.” I find Williamson’s suggestions most compelling. 18

230

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

of Jerusalem. The accusation links the rebuilding of the city to the cessation of tax payments and tributes, described as an injury to the royal treasury (v. 13). The key sections in terms of the economic language are found in the complaint in v. 13, and as part of the king’s reply in v. 20: Ezra 4:13, 20 ‫כען ידיע להוא למלכא‬ ‫די הן קריתא דך תתבנא ושׁוריה‬ ‫ישׁתכללון‬ ‫מנדה־בלו והלך לא ינתנון‬ ‫ואפתם מלכים תהנזק‬

‫ומלכין תקיפין הוו על־ירושׁלם‬ ‫ושׁליטין בכל עבר נהרה‬ ‫ומדה בלו והלך מתיהב להון‬

Now, may it be known to the king that if this city is rebuilt and its walls completed, [then] mindāh bĕlô wahălāk they will no longer pay, and accordingly19 the royal interests will be injured. (4:13) And there were powerful kings over Jerusalem, and [their] authority was in all Beyond the River, and mindāh bĕlô wahălāk were paid to them. (4:20)

The contention in these verses is based on the premonition that concerns relating to economics were important for the Persian emperor. This is a rather banal observation in itself, but the fact that this particular mode of argumentation is chosen shows the relative importance of tax payments. Verse 14 implies that the reason may not merely be economic: shame or dishonor would accrue to the Persian king, yet the means is decidedly financial. Verse 16 adds that the end result would be the Persians losing control of all of the Beyond the River province, truly a somewhat fantastic claim, given the state of extreme weakness that Jerusalem found itself in at the time.20 However, the relevance of the accusation is purportedly accepted by the Persian king in his answer (vv. 17–22), on the basis that Jerusalem had revolted in the past, but strong rulers of “Beyond the River” (i.e., earlier Persian monarchs) had managed to maintain the flow of tribute to the imperial kings (unlike their earlier Babylonian or Assyrian predecessors).21 Economic revenue streams, not military conquest, are deemed pivotal for imperial grandeur.

19 The translation of this word, ‫אפתם‬, is quite difficult. In his commentary (Ezra, Nehemiah, 56), Williamson contradicts most earlier commentaries and notes, “The attempt to find a noun, ‘revenue, treasury,’ as in many [English versions], has not proved successful, … More satisfactory is either O.P. * apatam-am, ‘eventually’ (Schaeder, Beiträge, 74), but this is a conjectured form, or Akk. Appitti(-ma), meaning either ‘accordingly’ (CAD) or ‘eventually’ (von Soden), but not ‘suddenly’ (Driver, JTS 32 [1931] 364–65), which in any case would not fit the context.” ZurB translates similarly: “… ganz gewiss wird das den Königen schaden.” 20 Cf. Lipschits, Fall and Rise of Jerusalem. 21 My interpretation follows Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 53.

7.3. Ezra 4:13, 20

231

The three terms for tax revenue are ‫מנדה‬, ‫בלו‬, and ‫הלך‬. They can be relatively easily compared to the Akkadian terms ma(n)dattu, biltu, and ilku.22 In Akkadian the term biltu appears quite rarely on its own, and there is only one reasonably secure occurrence in Official Aramaic as blwh (his payment, reward). In this period the Akkadian term occurs almost exclusively together with ma(n)dattu.23 Outside the biblical texts ‫ הלכא‬appears in Official Aramaic texts as tax, or ground tax.24 One clear appearance is in an order from Arsames to give land to a son whose father and household personnel had been killed in an uprising. The son shall pay (‫ )לקבל‬the ‫הלכא‬, or tax or duty as the father had done. This understanding accords with the Akkadian implications of ilku. CAD provides a short excursus: “Generally speaking, ilku denotes the duty of a person holding land in tenure from a higher authority … At times (Nuzi, sometimes in NB) part of the harvest had to be delivered, or even silver paid, to the officials of the higher authority or to personnel that received the ilku-duties as their salary (OB, but especially in LB).”25 Jursa incorporates new material from the NB and LB (Neo-Babylonian and Persian) periods, noting the double nature of ilku: “… originally a service obligation, and still understood as such in some instances in the late sixth century, ilku came to mean a payment made in compensation for actual service.”26 However, it could include a broader variety of demands: The terminology for the various obligations incumbent on individuals and groups is not very revealing. The most frequent are the following: ilku 22

Milevski, “Palestine’s Economic Formation,” 151, provides a short overview, but he only considers the Akkadian parallels. The Aramaic documents require discussions as well, if not priority. In LXX all three words are conflated translated with φορος in Ezra 4:13, 20; 7:24. This Greek word is otherwise reserved for ‫מס‬, except for its use to render ‫ מנדה‬or ‫מדה‬ in Ezra–Nehemiah. In other Greek texts (i.e., Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon), φορος can designate tribute specifically, or be broadened to include any payment. This section generally follows my “Tithes for the Clergy and Taxes for the King.” 23 DNSWI 1:166; Driver AnOr 12, 56–57. The text is RES 492B 3 (an ostracon from Elephantine). CAD B:229 gives the following renderings: “Tax (payable to the king), rent (payable to the lessor of a field or garden).” 24 Cf. DNSWI 1:283: Del 73:3, 78:2, 79:1, TADAE A6.11:5 (Driv 8:5). 25 CAD I/J: 80. The text continues, “There exist no documents that define the nature and details of ilku-duty or of those who received ilku-revenues or services either as income and benefit, or in their official capacity as collectors on behalf of the higher authority. Most of our information comes from texts dealing with exemptions from ilku-duty, corvée work, and a number of specific services and taxes. … Payments in silver are attested in the late OB period and in LB.” There may be a closer link to the Persian authorities, if Dandamaev and Lukonin’s philological reconstruction (Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran) can be followed (from MP xarāg, which also gave rise to Arab harāğ, which means “land tax”). 26 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 649. His conclusion is based on private archives from Babylonia of administrative texts from Nebuchadnezzar through Darius. Cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 401.

232

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

“‘service obligation,’ a catch-all term under which other, more specific terms can be subsumed: urāšu ‘corvée service/corvée worker,’ qaštu ‘archer/soldier,’ dīku ‘levy;’”27 The term ma(n)dattu appears frequently in Akkadian texts, both in this late period and much earlier. It addresses both royal tribute and payments to private individuals. In the Egyptian Aramaic documents it appears on the customs document TADAE C3.7 (475 BCE) in many places as the dues, taxes, or customs on ships. It is reckoned in precious metals and in kind. It also appears in one other place on C3.5, as the ‫ מנדת חילא‬as the silver “payment of the garrison,” from the first half of the fifth century. In a late fifth-century contract (B3.6:7), ‫ מנדת כסף‬appears in a difficult context, but certainly one that is hard to relate to imperial taxes. Translators mark it as an uncertain rendering with “payment.”28 Further non-tax uses occur in TADAE B8.11:2–3: ‫“ … מנדתא יתב‬the RENT he will pay” and] ‫ ]“ [ צבותא אחר מנדתא זי‬the affair. Then, the RENT of [”29 Similar is the appearance in A6:13:3–4 of the ‫מנדת בגיא זי ורוהי … מנדתא מהיתה נחתחור‬. As a result, it can be concluded that there is a wider range of meaning for the term than just “tax” or “tribute,” which becomes important for the biblical usage, especially for Neh 5:4. What can be concluded from these philological and comparative discussions for Ezra 4? While the danger of the Yehud rebuilding efforts might be exaggerated, it is the nature of the accusation, with its emphasis on the economic sphere that requires some further comment. These tax and tribute terms, and therefore the accusation of which they are a part, define and describe “the Judeans who came up from you to us” (4:12) as a community that will injure the royal interests by way of economic rebellion. This is not to say that military rebellion did not occur during the Persian hegemony (i.e., Ionia in the 490s, the repeated rebellions by Egypt, and the Tennes rebellion, 340s), nor that the Persians did not use military means in their foreign policy (one need only think of the repeated campaigns against the Greeks and Egyptians), but economic actions played a key role in Persian diplomacy. To point out one example, Artaxerxes II, ruler for over forty years, paid a consortium of Greek cities – Athens, Thebes, and Corinth – to fight against the Spartans in what came to be known as the Corinthian War (395–387) because the Spartans were attacking Persiancontrolled lands in Asia Minor. Furthermore, tax and tribute policies were integral to the legacy of Darius I, regardless of its historical value.30

27

Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 647. TADAE 2:73. 29 These translations follow TADAE 2:172. The words in all caps are meant by the translators to mark uncertain translations. 30 Herodotus, Hist. 3.89. 28

7.4. Ezra 6:4, 8–10, 13

233

It is also striking that these terms for tax and tribute occur twice in this chapter (4:13, 20), but are practically absent outside Ezra.31 Thus, rather than land, family honor, military prowess, or other systems of value, economic conceptions occupy pride of place for defining views of the Judean community, or at least the Yehud community’s projection of what mattered to the Persian Emperor and the regional representatives. In this particular instance, the economic values are placed in the mouths (or pens) of foreigners: Rehum and Shimshai on one hand, and King Artaxerxes on the other. The enemies of Judah and Benjamin, as they are terms in 4:1, attempt to drive an economic wedge between the threesome of the God of Jerusalem, the Yehud returnees, and the Persian imperial authorities – the threesome constructed in Ezra 1. This accusation in terms of the loss of tribute and taxes may allude to the role of the Jerusalem temple in the Zion theology of the preexilic monarchy, for which the temple served as a royal chapel, undergirding the independence and religious ascendency of the Judahite kings.32 This connection could be made here, but only through the further – nonetheless logical – extension from the building of the Temple itself to the building of the walls addressed in these letters. Yet there is a certain irony in both the accusation by Rehum and his associates and the reply by Artaxerxes: the claim and fear that building the walls would lead to drastic consequences for the Persian Empire’s holdings in the Levant contradicts the flow within the narrative time of the book: the funding for the Yehud rebuilding efforts from the taxes granted in 6:8 precedes – historically speaking – the work stoppage on the walls under Artaxerxes in 4:17–23.33 Here it appears that economic concerns will thwart the building efforts, both those of the (later) wall and the Temple (in 4:24).

7.4. Ezra 6:4, 8–10, 13 7.4. Ezra 6:4, 8–10, 13

In contrast to the outcome described in the above text, which led to the cessation of building activity, in this section (chs. 5–6), the Emperor – this time Darius, rather than Artaxerxes as in chs. 4 and 7– searches the archives and confirms Cyrus’ decree to pay for the refurbishing of the Temple out of the imperial treasury. The narrative irony of the events continues taking place through the economically themed discourse: “Who will pay.” Instead of the Persian Empire losing money on account of Judean rebelliousness, as implied 31

The term ‫ מדה‬appears in Neh 5:4 as well in a similar context: selling everything to come up with the silver ‫למדת המלך‬. 32 Keel, Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus; Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah, 230–70. 33 I am inclined to understand 4:24 as a resumption of the narrative of 4:1–5, following Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 57.

234

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

in the charge of 4:6–23, the Persian Empire contributes economically as a result of its own choice to support Judean rebuilding efforts. So in some ways, Rehum and Shimshai’s contention is proved correct: revenues are lost as a result of rebuilding. As a subplot, or perhaps parallel plot to the economic jockeying, is the question of divine benefaction of the temple building. This parallel concern also addresses the issue of “who will pay,” but in a different manner that could perhaps be labelled under the question, “Who is allowed to pay?” This issue has turned up before and in related texts (i.e., Exod 29; 1 Chr 29; Hag 1 indirectly; and Ezra 1). This issue is settled once and for all, first in the prophets Haggai and Zechariah’s proclamations that the people should begin rebuilding – missing in Ezra 3:7, and then in Darius’ action in 6:3–10 and Artaxerxes’ in 7:14–24 that financially support the building and bring it to fruition.34 Ezra 6: 3aβ,4b, 8–10, 13 ‫כורשׁ מלכא שׂם טעם‬ ‫בית־אלהא בירושׁלם‬ … ‫ביתא יתבנא‬ ‫ונפקתא מן־בית מלכא תתיהב‬ ‫ומני שׂים טעם‬ ‫למא די־תעבדון עם־שׂבי יהודיא אלך‬ ‫למבנא בית־אלהא דך‬ ‫ומנכסי מלכא‬ ‫די מדת עבר נהרה אספרנא נפקתא תהוא‬ ‫מתיהבא לגבריא אלך‬ ‫די־לא לבטלא׃‬ ‫ומה חשׁחן‬ ‫ובני תורין ודכרין ואמרין‬ ‫לעלון לאלה שׁמיא‬ ‫חנטין מלח חמר ומשׁח‬ ‫כמאמר כהניא‬ ‫די־בירושׁלם‬ ‫להוא מתיהב להם יום ביום‬ ‫די־לא שׁלו‬ ‫די־להון מהקרבין ניחוחין לאלה שׁמיא‬ ‫ומצלין לחיי מלכא ובנוהי׃‬ ‫אדין תתני פחת עבר־נהרה שׁתר בוזני‬ ‫וכנותהון‬ ‫לקבל די־שׁלח דריושׁ מלכא כנמא‬ ‫אספרנא עבדו‬

34

Cyrus the king set a decree: the house of God in Jerusalem, let the house be rebuilt … and the outlay be given from the king’s household. (6:3aβ,4b) Now from me a decree has been set: what you shall do for these elders of the Judeans to build this house of God: now from the royal riches, those of the tribute of Beyond the River be given diligently for the outlay to these men that [the work] not stop. And whatever need, both bulls and rams and sheep for sending up to the God of heaven, wheat, salt, wine, and oil in accordance with what the priests that are in Jerusalem declare shall be given to them day by day – without lapse. Let them offer fragrances to the God of heaven and pray for lives of the king and his sons. (6:8– 10) Then, Tattenai, governor of Beyond the River, Shetar Boznai, and their associates in accordance with what Darius the king sent, acted diligently. (6:13)

Cf. Krüger, “Esra 1-6: Struktur und Konzept.”

7.4. Ezra 6:4, 8–10, 13

235

This section has been plagued by many historical questions in the scholarly discussion, especially related to the detailed interest on behalf of the Persian emperor for the out-of-the-way cult sanctuary in Jerusalem and to the relationship between Cyrus’ earlier decree (ch. 1) and Darius’ actions.35 However, my current interest lies the text’s conception of the Yehud community. Yet even from this viewpoint it is striking – narratively speaking – that so little progress appears to have been made between the time of Cyrus’ decree and the renewed interest by Darius (two decades later).36 This gap shows the narrative logic for the inclusion of ch. 4 in providing a reason for the lapse. Like in chapter 1, continuity between the First and the Second Temples is emphasized by naming the vessels taken as booty by Nebuchadnezzar (6:5). Yet this chapter shows a level of Persian imperial support for the rebuilding efforts that far outdoes the report of Cyrus’ involvement in 1:4. In chapter 1, the returnees from the Golah and their communities contribute freewill offerings, while Cyrus’ royal contribution is limited to the vessels taken by Nebuchadnezzar. In 6:4, however, Cyrus calls for the construction costs to be paid by the Persian royal treasury. This increase in royal involvement, when read in light of the economic concerns from 4:6–23, provides a strong statement of support for the efforts of the Yehud community, and also perhaps an indication for the reason why 4:6–24 is found in its current location in the MT. Darius’ own decree, beginning in v. 8, goes even further by designating more specifically which royal treasury the outlays for the Jerusalem temple should come from: “… from the riches of the king that are from the tribute of Beyond the River be diligently given to the these men.” The regular contributions of the tax payments promise an ongoing source to fund the materials and labor necessary (i.e., 3:7). In addition, Darius also makes provision for the regular upkeep of the temple cult by the priests (v. 9). The one stipulation is that they are responsible to pray for the king and his family. The economic developments of the decree can also be traced to a degree through its use of the word ‫( בית‬house), though the theme does not carry on through the whole passage. It appears in v. 3 to designate the divine house in 35

In spite of the lack of external evidence, it still appears best to posit the Temple’s construction between 520–515 BCE On the possible support for outlying temples, note the support by Artaxerxes I for the temple at the Egyptian Kharga Oasis, discussed in Fried, The Priest and the Great King, 79–80. 36 Cf. Stevens, Temples, Tithes, and Taxes, 46–47: “Other than this word in Ezra 6:4, there is no indication in the biblical texts that Cyrus financed the construction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. Moreover, if Cyrus had done so, the people should have rebuilt the temple immediately upon returning from Babylon.” For the question as to what ‫ונפקתא מן‬ ‫ בית מלכא‬means: HAHAT: 1515: “Ausgabe(n), Kosten”; HALOT, 2:1932: “cost.” The term ‫ נפקה‬is found in several Off. Aram. documents from Egypt: i.e., TADAE C3.27 (fourth century BCE; twice) referring to outlays for various dates and persons; C3.14 (400 BCE) for grain outlays for soldiers; and C3.12 (420 BCE) for wine.

236

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

Jerusalem that should be rebuilt. The source of funding is designated in v. 4 as the royal house. The continuity of prestige is also connected to the term: the vessels of the temple that ended up in the divine house in Jerusalem shall be returned there (v. 5). God does not play an active role in the chapter, so there is no direct implication of divine modes of action or character. Only in 6:14 is it reported that the building took place “according to the decree of the God of Israel and the decree of Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes.”37 The subtle role played by the God of Israel is only on view in conjunction with the royal decrees, which in themselves serve to create continuity with the First Temple through the repatriation of vessels from the First Temple and to provide financial support for the rebuilding efforts. The financial support – along with the prophetic encouragement – are the key signs of divine involvement.38 This divine support returns dividends for God, who becomes the recipient in 6:9 of a functional cult the sends up offerings regularly. Economics also plays a central role in defining the community. Such definition of the community first occurs in the section Ezra 5–6 in 5:11, where the leaders answer Tattenai: “We are the servants of the God of heaven and earth; we are rebuilding the house that was originally built many years ago; a great king of Israel built it and completed it.”

Each of these clauses is significant. The first (“we are the servants”) provides the leaders’ direct formulation of their connection to Yahweh. The second (“we are rebuilding”) explains their actions as servants, while providing their link to the preexilic community. The third (“a great king of Israel”) underscores this connection while contrasting the nature of the previous builder with the status of these leaders of the province of Yehud. An Israelite king is not responsible for this rebuilding effort, but rather a group under the leadership of elders, priests, a governor, and prophets with the authorization of a foreign monarch.39 37

The MT has “and Artaxerxes, king of the Persians” but Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 60, and Antonius H. J Gunneweg, Esra, KAT 19,1 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Mohn, 1985), 112, see this as a scribal error. On the centrality of this verse see Eskenazi Cohn, In an Age of Prose, 42: “The first movement, Ezra 1-6, depicts the fulfillment of the edict up through Darius's time. Two other movements in Artaxerses’ time bring it to completion. Ezra 6:14 is thus a linchpin, informing us of what is yet to come; the completion of the house of God in Artaxerxes’ time.” Cf. Karrer-Grube, “Scrutinizing the Conceptual Unity of Ezra and Nehemiah,” 143, who conceives of the mention of Artaxerxes here as a cornerstone for the unity of the book(s) of Ezra-Nehemiah. 38 On the importance of prophetic involvement in chs. 5–6 for the now successful attempts to rebuild see Eskenazi Cohn, In an Age of Prose, 55; Krüger, “Esra 1-6: Struktur und Konzept.” 39 Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes, 97, remarks: “Damit erhält das langwierige Hin und Her der sog. Aramäischen Chronik (Esr 4,6-6,18) einen pointierten Abschluss: Diejenigen

7.5. Ezra 7:14–24

237

In 6:6–8 the Judean community is contrasted with the leaders of Beyond the River in terms of distance. First, the satrap leaders are commanded to “remain far from there” (v. 6), a distance more metaphorical in terms of authority than geographic. Second, the Yehud community is designated in terms of the receivers of provisions, while the satrapal leaders are the givers (v. 8).40 Specifically, the satrapal leaders should manage the ‫( מדה‬tribute) in such a way that allows the Yehud community to be built up as a separate entity. There is, then, economic separation into distinct groups as well. The chapter goes on to mark the Judean’s separate identity and success further through the dedication and Passover celebration.41 Thus, in this chapter, one of the major trajectories reaches its denouement, and the category of economics takes on a leading role. The financial reversal – as seen in the light especially of 4:13, 20 – creates the possibility for the returnees and those who attached themselves to this group to separate culturally and cultically (cf. 6:19–22).

7.5. Ezra 7:14–24 7.5. Ezra 7:14–24

In this final discussion of a passage from Ezra, I am moving, in terms of the narrative structure of the book of Ezra, from the material that took place before Ezra himself comes on the scene to the instructions given by King Artaxerxes on Ezra’s behalf. My discussion thereby straddles one of the most typical caesuras made in the book. As Pakkala notes, Ezra’s involvement with the cultic vessels and royal financial support for the Temple is one of the strongest ways in which Ezra 7–8 connects with the earlier chapters of the book.42 For, while (oder deren Parteigänger und Nachfahren), die den Aufbau von Stadt und Tempel zu verhindern suchten, werden nun selbst an den Unkosten beteiligt. Der König Darius jedoch steht mit seiner Bereitschaft, den Tempelbau zu bezahlen, in der Nachfolge Davids. Die ‘Fremdfinanzierung’ des Tempels ist für den Verfasser von Esr 6,6ff. – und damit wohl auch für denjenigen der Aramäischen Chronik – kein Problem. Esr 1,4 weist ein ähnliches Finanzierungsmodells auf.” Also Karrer-Grube, “Scrutinizing the Conceptual Unity of Ezra and Nehemiah,” 143. Compare the similar considerations in Chronicles and found by Konrad Schmid in Jeremiah with regard to Nebuchadnezzar (“Nebukadnezars Antritt der Weltherrschaft und der Abbruch der Davidsdynastie: Innerbiblische Schriftauslegung und universalgeschichtliche Konstruktion im Jeremiabuch,” in Die Textualisierung der Religion [ed. J. Schaper; FAT 62; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009], 150–66.). 40 If the satrapal leaders can be associated with the “people of the land” in 4:4 (cf. Fried, “The ‘am hā’areṣ in Ezra 4:4 and Persian Administration”), then the economic contrast could be drawn in even starker terms. 41 For the literary use of Passover at transformative points in the narrative of the Hebrew Bible, see Tamara Prosic, The Development and Symbolism of Passover Until 70 CE, JSOTSup 414 (London: T&T Clark International, 2004). 42 Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 45–46.

238

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

some of the main characters of the story have changed (Artaxerxes also appeared in ch. 4), the use of economic categories remains central for the development of the plot and for understanding the Persian Empire’s perspective on the Jerusalem temple. In some ways this passage serves as the crowning victory with regard to demonstrating the end of external resistance to the construction of the Temple and corresponding construction of the reconstituted human community of God in Jerusalem.43 Chapter 6 saw the completion of the Temple building and dedication (+ Passover) celebration. With the Temple complete, Artaxerxes now (this is of course half a century later in terms of historical time!) sends Ezra to Jerusalem to bring about the regulation of the community in line with God’s law (and the Temple’s place in the larger Persian Empire’s divine economy). The funding for temple worship prior to Ezra’s rescript was covered, in terms of the narrative, by Darius’ command to provide the elders of the Jews with the necessary items for daily offerings in 6:9–10. As a result, the provisions granted to Ezra may or may not have been needed, but this rescript in ch. 7 certainly enhanced the status of the Jerusalem Temple, Ezra’s status, and theoretically the status of Artaxerxes in the eyes of the Yehud community and in the eyes of their deity. Economic categories dominate the nature of this discourse, and my translation of the salient verses places the many occurrences of economic terminology in italics: Ezra 7:15–24 ‫ ולהיבלה כסף ודהב‬15 ‫די־מלכא ויעטוהי התנדבו‬ ‫לאלה ישׂראל‬ ‫די בירושׁלם משׁכנה‬ ‫ וכל כסף ודהב‬16 ‫די תהשׁכח בכל מדינת בבל‬ ‫עם התנדבות עמא וכהניא‬ ‫מתנדבין לבית אלההם‬ ‫די בירושׁלם‬ ‫ כל־קבל דנה אספרנא‬17 … ‫תקנא בכספא דנה‬ ‫ ומה די עליך ועל־אחיך ייטב‬18 ‫בשׁאר כספא ודהבה מעבד‬ ‫כרעות אלהכם תעבדון‬ ‫ ומאניא די־מתיהבין לך‬19 43

And to carry silver and gold Which the king and his counselors freely contributed to the God of Israel who is in Jerusalem, his residence. And all silver and gold That you find in the whole province of Babylon, Together with the free will contributions of the people and priests contributed freely to the house of their god, which is in Jerusalem. Accordingly, you shall diligently acquire with this silver … And whatever with regard to you and your brothers seems good, with the remainder of the silver and gold to do According to the will of your God, you shall do. And the vessels that have been given to you

As a small note in relation to the debate over the extent of P, like Nihan’s position (From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch) the narrative arc in Ezra extends to the dedication and even ongoing support for the cult.

7.5. Ezra 7:14–24 ‫לפלחן בית אלהך‬ ‫השׁלם דם אלה ירושׁלם‬ ‫ ושׁאר חשׁחות בית אלהך‬20 ‫די יפל־לך למנתן‬ ‫תנתן מן־בית גנזי מלכא‬ ‫ ומני אנה ארתחשׁסתא מלכא‬21 ‫שׂים טעם‬ … ‫לכל גזבריא די בעבר נהרה‬ ‫ עד־כסף ככרין מאה ועד־חנטין‬22 ‫כרין מאה ועד־חמר בתין מאה ועד־‬ ‫בתין משׁח מאה ומלח די־לא כתב‬ ‫ כל־די מן־טעם אלה שׁמיא‬23 ‫יתעבד אדרזדא לבית אלה שׁמיא‬ ‫די־למה להוא קצף על־מלכות מלכא‬ ‫ובנוהי‬ ‫ ולכם מהודעין‬24 ‫די כל־כהניא ולויא זמריא תרעיא‬ ‫נתיניא ופלחי בית אלהא דנה‬ ‫מנדה בלו והלך לא שׁליט למרמא‬ ‫עליהם‬

239

For the cult of the house of your God Complete [the delivery] to before God in Jerusalem. And the rest of the needs of the house of your God That fall to you to pay, you shall pay from the treasury of the king. And from me, I, king Artaxerxes, a decree is set for all the treasurers of Beyond the River … As much as 100 talents of silver and 100 cors of wheat and 100 baths of wine and 100 baths of oil, and salt without record. All which is from the decree of the God of heaven shall be done faithfully44 for the house of the God of Heaven, For why should [his] anger be upon the kingdom, the king, and his sons? And to you it shall be known that all the priests and the Levites, the singers, the guards, the temple servants, and the servants of this house of God: Tribute, tax, and customs are not lawful to impose on them.

While the letter begins (v. 14) and ends (vv. 25–26) by focusing on the “law,” the body of the letter centers on economic provision and exemption. This theme opens in v. 15, where Ezra is directed to carry with him silver and gold both from the king and his entourage and also from residents of Babylon. He is then imagined first using it for the purchase of offerings for the Jerusalem temple. There is also a remainder envisioned (the rest of the silver and gold, v. 18), which first of all portrays king Artaxerxes and the province of Babylon (vv. 15–16) as generous. The emphasis on the province of Babylon recalls the important economic growth that took place there throughout the sixth and early fifth centuries there, including the entrepreneurial developments – also among the Jews settled in al-Yahudu, Sippar, and Nippur. As Williamson notes, the transfer of “freewill offerings of the people and priests” was likely for their Jewish compatriots, establishing clear economic links between Jews in the East and in the Land.45 Note of this practice here could also be influenced by the competition between the Jerusalem and Gerizim temples at this point, which might have been vying for external support (of various kinds), in this case for imperial and “Jewish” support. In v. 17 a situation regulated by the likes of Deut 14:25–26 is in view, where one could take silver to the sanctuary and purchase the desired offerings. Specif-

44 45

Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes, 75. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 102.

240

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

ically, the portions of meat – bulls, rams, and sheep – along with their accompanying portions of grain and wine appear. The contrast of this depiction with the impoverished clergy of Neh 13:10–11 is stunning, when the texts are read synchronically. Ezra 7 may then may be taken as a remedy for a situation like the one in during Nehemiah’s interim return to serve by the Emperor’s side. Reading these texts as diachronically separate appears quite fruitful, however. Also striking is that Ezra and his companions then use it ‫“( כרעות‬according to the will”; LXX: ὡς ἀρεστὸν, “as pleasing”) to God. God’s will is brought in direct connection to economic outlays. The edict associates the two even closer again in v. 23: “All that is by decree of the God of heaven.” As was also the case in ch. 6, 7:20 mentions the fulfillment of the needs of the house of your God from the house of the royal treasury. While perhaps an incidental use of the term (though ‫ היכל‬would be an alternative for the temple – it appears in 6: 5 – and “from the royal treasury” could also be expressed “from the outlays of the king” as in 6:8), the repeated use of ‫ בית‬for the treasury and temple highlights their connection and the financial transfer. A second source of income in the royal (satrapal) treasury located in Beyond the River stands open for Ezra’s needs up to a very generous limit (vv. 20–22). As has often been noticed, the entire yearly tribute reported by Herodotus for the province of Beyond the River was only three to four times the amounts allocated to Ezra here.46 Nonetheless, if the situation in Yehud could be related to that of Egypt, then regular temple outlays could come from regional imperial storehouses (cf. TADAE C.3.12, ll. 26–27 [AP 72]: wine for the libations for Isis and Ptah).47 The political motivation for the royal largess appears in v. 23: “Why should wrath [namely, the wrath of the God of Heaven] be upon the kingdom, the king, and his children?” In similar hews to 6:10, the Persian Emperor imagines a quid pro quo transaction – financial support equals divine blessing. The logic, while always present at least to a degree, is articulated in quite straightforward terms in this chapter. With this statement the Persian overlord is separated from the community of “true” Yahweh worshipers, which in fact strengthens the display of divine power. Yahweh clearly pulls the financial strings, regardless of whether the ruling political authorities ascribe to Yahweh’s dominion over the earth or not. In 7:24, the apex of the reversal is achieved: the Persian king lavishly declares his allegiance to this God of Heaven in Jerusalem, freeing its workers from funding his household, while he himself instead allocates funds for God’s

46 47

Hist., 3.91 Cf. Albertz, “Zur Wirtschaftspolitik des Perserreiches,” 343.

7.5. Ezra 7:14–24

241

household.48 There are a litany of temple functionaries exempted from tax contributions: priests, Levites, singers, gatekeepers, servants, workers of the house of this God. In particular, the opposition found in 4:13, 20 with regard to the payment of taxes is reversed in 7:24. As mentioned in my discussion of that chapter, the three terms for taxes – ‫מנדה‬, ‫בלו‬, and ‫ – הלך‬appear only in these two chapters in the Hebrew Bible, thereby strengthening the connection between them. Furthermore, the repetitions of the root ‫ שׁלט‬and of “Beyond the River (in 4:20; 7:21)” underscore the link between these passages. If the authority in 4:20 is a reference to earlier Persian kings, who had been able to maintain authority and receive payments from Jerusalem, then the contrast with 7:24 is that this Persian king (Artaxerxes) – who is the author of both edicts – overturns this very policy. God, indirectly through the king, works economic wonders to bring about the completion of the Jerusalem temple and to alter the economic burdens placed upon the Judean community. The following chapter (esp. 8:24–34) narrates Ezra’s completion of the economic transfer: the gold, silver, freewill contributions, and vessels are handed over to a selected group of priests. The transfer is described in detail, including the contents and the recipients, Ezra’s charge to them to guard the vessels, and their recording in the Temple.49 Then the sacrifice of a large number of burnt offerings takes place in 8:35, consisting of 12 bulls, 96 rams, and 77 lambs plus he-goats for the sin/purification offering. While this is not the terminology in 7:17, the animals are basically the same. And though there are other dynamics at play, the significant economic outlay shows the fulfillment of this part of the rescript. The following verse, 8:36, indicates the same for the requests for support from the heads of the province of Beyond the River, who “lift up” (‫נשׂא‬ piel) the people and the house of God.” This verse works as the fulfillment in economic terms in two ways. The first is the direct report that the leaders of the satrap do in fact offer support: the flow of economic goods or services is from the centralized Persian authorities to Yahweh’s temple and Yahweh’s people. Also, the use of this verb (and in piel) points back to the beginning of the book, where the decree by Cyrus in 1:4 proclaims that the “men of his place” should support (‫ )ינשׁאוהו‬with material goods those returning to Jerusalem to build the temple. The divine awakening of Cyrus in 1:1, leading to his 48

Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 102, notes on v. 16, “More surprisingly, reference is made at the start of the verse to gifts from non-Jews.” On v. 20 he comments that “provision is made for more general expenses incurred in the running of the temple to be met from public funds.” 49 Juha Pakkala, “The Disunity of Ezra–Nehemiah,” in Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah: Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader, ed. M. J. Boda and P. L. Redditt, Hebrew Bible Monographs 17 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008), 209, regards these verses as a late addition that attempts to create continuity between Ezra 1–6 and 7–10. If this is the case, it cements the economic theme as primary for the book as a whole.

242

7. Who Pays? A Theological Question in Ezra 1–8

proclamation (1:2) that the Persian king should build a house for God in Jerusalem, reaches its fulfillment. In the remainder of the combined book Ezra-Nehemiah, it may be that economics takes a diminished role, though its importance does reappear in especially Neh 5, 10 and 13, as I will address in the next chapter. Furthermore, it is also worth noting in passing that the rejection of exogenous marriages (Ezra 9–10; Neh 10:31; 13:23–28) was directly linked to concern for inheritance of property rights.50 The reasons for this connection arise from the need for the adherents to the Yahweh temple in Jerusalem to finance its activities (cf. Neh 10; 13) now that this second temple, unlike the first one, did not function as the royal chapel endowed with royal support. If Judean men married exogenously, then upon their deaths the families might lose their own distinctiveness and their property would fall into the hands of those whose commitment to the Yahweh temple in Jerusalem might be compromised.

7.6. Conclusions from the Book of Ezra 7.6. Conclusions from the Book of Ezra

The preceding discussions have attempted to take a direct look at the economic language and dynamics found within Ezra 1–8. Economics emerges as an important motif through which the narrative tells of the movement of the exiles from captivity to the grounding and building of the temple and a restored community centered in Jerusalem. Methods of payment and financial assistance become categories for separating the Judeans from their Phoenician neighbors and from their opponents residing in Samaria (4:17) and elsewhere in the province of Beyond the River. Finally, the flow of taxes to and from the Persian authorities marks the turn in fortunes of the Judean community and the subtle work of their God through the Persian kings, ultimately ending in the worship of the God of Heaven in Jerusalem, paid for by the Persian treasury itself. When comparing with contemporary literature, unlike in P’s version of the building of the tabernacle in Exodus, Ezra portrays the foreign king as a decisive source of financial support for sanctuary outlays. This also contrasts with Haggai, where foreign support is also absent, but the temple plays the role of divine treasury (which is not as important in Ezra). Of these, only Ezra uses economics as a catalyst for narrative progression. Like prophetic encouragement, the economic motif plays a key role in the building of the temple, but

50

Tamara Eskenazi Cohn, “Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Women’s Bible Commentary (with Apocrypha), ed. Carol Ann Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 124–28. Note the importance of economics in the marriage contracts at Elephantine: TADAE B 2.6; 3.3; 3.8; 6.1; 6.2. See also the recent helpful discussion in Adams, Social and Economic Life.

7.6. Conclusions from the Book of Ezra

243

economics goes beyond temple construction, combining the pre-Ezra period in chapters 1–6 with the Ezra narrative in 7–10.

Chapter 8

Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics of Tithes, Taxes, Commerce, and Debt 8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

Consideration of economics, economic ethics, and economic thinking in Nehemiah takes place across a smattering of texts. This situation is quite different than in Ezra, where economics serves as a narrative thread for the book. Instead, Nehemiah touches, or rather discusses deeply, economic topics on several occasions. Nonetheless, these texts do not develop into an overarching theme that holds the plot together. The particular sections can be discussed separately – as is usually the case. The scope of the texts is quite extensive: − The ‫ פלך‬in Neh 3, if these refer to “work or military groups” − The intra- and inter-community loans in 5:1–13, including the “tax of the king” in 5:4 − The governor’s table in 5:14–19 − The tithes and temple contributions of 13:10–13 (cf. 10:31–40)1 − Sabbath economic stipulations in 13:15–18 − Economic ramifications of exogenous marriages in 13:23–28 (cf. 13:4–9) So, while there are a number of sections, they basically occur in chs. 5 and 13. Chapter 5 depicts some Judeans issuing economic complaints about their fellow Judeans followed by Nehemiah’s advocacy on the part of the indebted, which brings the problem to resolution. The second part of the chapter (vv. 14– 19) also brushes up against questions of payment, containing Nehemiah’s proclamation that he never laid claim to “the bread of the governor,” of which earlier governors had availed themselves. In 10:31–40 the Judean assembly commits itself to a third of a shekel temple tax, as well as outlining how tithe procedures were to take place. Finally, the last chapter takes up the topics of unfulfilled tithes and trade in Jerusalem on the Sabbath.

1

This study will forego dicussion of Neh 10, viewing it as a later reworking of material from the book of Nehemiah, esp. ch. 13. The verses of primary interest with regard to economics in ch. 10 are vv. 31–40. On the compositional history, see, e.g. Wright, Rebuilding Identity; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 330; Ulrich Kellermann, Nehemia: Quellen, Überlieferung und Geschichte, BZAW 102 (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1967), 41. The place of the chapter as a whole has caused much debate in the history of scholarship with most concluding that Neh 10 (sometimes along with Neh 8–9) are of different origins than most of the rest of the book, usually later than Neh 13.

8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

245

A prima facie reading raises questions with regard to how these texts fit together. Do they arise from the same or a relatively homogeneous temporal environment, or are they the result of multiple redactional levels updating the book in response to different motivations? What is the relationship between the Persian royal tax (5:4) and the temple taxes of 10:31–40 and 13:10–13? How do these relate to the economic dynamics discussed earlier with regard to Ezra 1–8? On the synchronic level, the book(s) of Ezra–Nehemiah call to be interpreted as arising from, or referring to, the same historical and geographical locations. This synchronic level – within the Hebrew-Aramaic Ezra–Nehemiah – will provide the context for one line of interpretation. Yet diachronic considerations will flow out of this. Central to my investigation is the question of how the descriptions of economic structures – the loans in 5:1–12 (and 10:33) and the trading and working on the Sabbath in 13:15–22 (and 10:32) – fit in the evolving biblical consciousness with regard to economics as a category for theology and communal ethics? In terms of diachronic relations, the “remember formulae,” which appear in chapter 5 (vv. 14–19) and repeatedly in chapter 13, all relate to the affirmation in chapter 10. Williamson views this as an indication of their setting as redactional material to the “Nehemiah Memoir,”2 which he views as having (1) been adapted from an Aramaic report that was written soon after Nehemiah’s first stay in Jerusalem and (2) expanded later, after the pledge of chap. 10 to enhance his role in the Restoration: These few paragraphs have much in common: each concludes with a positive ‘remember’ formula: each offers a brief description without particular chronological setting: each takes place long after the building of the wall, and each can be linked in some way with chap. 10.3

A prominent modern interpreter, Williamson’s conclusions are also generally followed in the recent commentary by Schunck, who sees the core of the book as consisting of Nehemiah’s own work to combine two previously independent documents into the “Nehemia-Denkschrift” sometime in the latter half of the fifth century BCE.4 This approach often draws considerably on contemporary parallels, especially the Udjahorresnet inscription from Egypt.5 That Egyptian inscription contains a dedicatory text by a high official during the Persian period that calls on the deity to “remember me.” The Nehemiah memoir is typically understood 2

Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xxviii. Ibid., xxvii. 4 Schunck, Nehemia, XV. This should not be confused with the final form of the text, however. 5 von Rad, “Die Nehemia-Denkschrift”; Sigmund Mowinckel, Studien zu dem Buche Ezra-Nehemia, Skrifter utgitt av det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi i Oslo. 2 Klasse. Ny serie. 3, 5, 7 (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964); Kellermann, Nehemia; Blenkinsopp, “The Mission of Udjahorresnet”; Schunck, Nehemia, XV. 3

246

8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

to consist of chs. 1–7* – focusing on the completion of the wall and re-population of Jerusalem, chs. 5 and 13. It is often conjectured that the material from chapter 5 originally followed chapter 13. The fact that the stipulations in chap. 10 overlap with the concerns of ch. 13 is, however, taken by most interpreters as a strong argument for the later, perhaps early Hellenistic-period quality of (parts of) chap. 10.6 This line of interpretation is by no means universally accepted. The most extensive counter position comes from J. Wright, who, along with Kratz, views the development of the book occurring over a considerably longer period of time.7 Wright himself describes the difference in approaches appropriately as between “a plurality of sources and a minimum of compilers or editors” (the position represented by e.g., Williamson or Schunck) or the opposite – a minimum of sources and a plurality of editors or redactors.8 While this investigation will not attempt to provide a new solution, or in many cases even take sides, I will engage with compositional questions are far as they concern the dates and layers within Neh 5 and 13.

8.1. Nehemiah 3: Pelek as Work or Military Service 8.1. Nehemiah 3: Pelek as Work or Military Service

Within the book, the first significant financial consideration, while somewhat tangential, is the list of names in Neh 3 concerning the rebuilding of the wall. This endeavor certainly included significant economic ramifications. For even if a fox climbing on the rebuilt wall could knock it over, it still required the real outlay of time and materials. Schunck notes that it is the only detailed description of the Jerusalem wall in the early Second Temple Period, and it divides the wall into forty sections.9 The actual wall-building narrative begins earlier, in 2:11, when Nehemiah arrives in Jerusalem and begins surveying the state of affairs (or even in 1:3, when he receives the report of the condition of the wall). After touring the ruins with only his travelling companions from Susa (2:12–16), Nehemiah calls on “them” (v. 17: the antecedent is “the Jews, priest, nobles, officials and other workers” in v. 16) to rebuild. His call is embraced in v. 18, and after some resistance from Sanballat and company in v. 19, the recounting of the building efforts begins in earnest in 3:1. 6

See the overview in Schunck, Nehemia, XV. Cf. also ibid., 106–7. Kratz, The Composition of the Narrative Books of the Old Testament, 63–83. 8 Wright, “A New Model,” 333. 9 Schunck, Nehemia, 119. This section is usual attributed to a different source than the Nehemiah Memoir. Cf., e.g., Oded Lipschits, “Nehemiah 3: Sources, Composition and Purpose,” in New Perspectives on Ezra-Nehemiah: History and Historiography, Text, Literature, and Interpretation, ed. I. Kalimi (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012), 94; Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 231. 7

8.1. Nehemiah 3: Pelek as Work or Military Service

247

While there is little question that the wall building would require significant outlay, who provides the support remains debated. According to 2:8, the Persian treasury, specifically the royal paradise, would provide timber. Less clear is whether the work was done as part of a corvée duty (Akk.: ilku or urāšu, cf. OP kurtash). In this account of the rebuilding of the wall, the term ‫פלך‬, which appears only in this chapter (vv. 9, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19) as part of the title ‫שׂר חצי פלך‬. While English translations follow the LXX (περιχωρου) and post-biblical Hebrew in rendering the term “district” (NRSV, NIV, NJPS), there is considerable support for following Demsky and rendering “‘work duty’ or ‘tax in the form of conscripted labour,’” on the basis of the Akkadian equivalent pilku.10 Demsky turns to the Neo-Assyrian texts for support; one might also note the evidence from Persian requirements placed on Babylonian temples for work parties. Jursa’s analysis should be recalled here: the Persian authorities at times required more in terms of labor than taxes in silver or kind.11 In this context connections can be made to proposals that see the construction of Jerusalem as a ‫ בירתה‬under Nehemiah as an empire-sanctioned project, though it is somewhat difficult to relate this to the protection the southern frontier, especially in connection to Egyptian rebellion in the mid-fifth century,12 or to the loss of the province of Egypt at the end of the fifth century. Milevski also notes the stamp of “Pelayahu, in charge of the tax” (‫פלאיה אשׁר‬ ‫)על המס‬, whose name is mentioned in Neh. 8:7, 10:11, as a Levite.13 He points to other texts (e.g. 2 Sam 20:24; 1 Kgs 4:6; 5:29; 12:18) where ‫ מס‬appears, and notes it is not clear if the tax was paid in specie or in work (‫)מס עובד‬. It seems easiest, at least in light of the biblical usage and the Persian need for labor, to relate this to a labor tax. It is important, however, that one exercise caution about the conflation of the seal with the biblical figure. There is, of course, significant evidence for the building efforts organized according to districts. The most recent reading in this direction is provided by Lipschits, who compares Neh 3 especially with the building report from DurSharrukin.14 His reading does not necessarily exclude the possibility that the work was done as a part of a labor tax, but it does seem to suggest that there the “leaders of the pelek” represent a different kind of corvée requirement than that recorded for, e.g., the priests in 3:1, where it speaks specifically of building (‫)בנה‬.

10

Demsky, “‘Pelekh’ in Nehemiah 3.” Cf. above, Section 4.3.4 12 Cf. Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration in Syria-Palestine and the Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah. 13 “Palestine’s Economic Formation,” 149. He refers to N. Avigad, Bullae and Seals from a Post-Exilic Judean Archive, Qedem 4, 1976 14 Lipschits, “Nehemiah 3.” 11

248

8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

The significance of Lipschits’ argument appears clearly in the notion that the wall was financed by the individuals’ “wealth dedicated to the temple treasury,” even if it was to be reserved for a certain time.15 He constructs this argument on the basis of a particular reading of ‫( חזק‬hiphil) in 1 Chr 26:27, where he correctly notes that the verb cannot refer to renovation or physical maintenance on the Temple, because it refers to the time of David, thus prior to construction of the First Temple. While this might be possible, it does not accord well with the corvée requirements put on the temples in Babylonia under the Persians. It was generally labor, rather than financial support that was required. Furthermore, Lipschits seems to assume a substantial amount of commerce in silver at this point in the mid-fifth century. Again, while possible, the number of times that the hiphil of ‫ חזק‬appears in Neh 3 militates against this. At most, Lipschits’ argument introduce a modicum of ambiguity, suggesting that at times the one named may have financially paid for the work – there is considerable evidence of this in Babylonia, but it was likely less often the case in Yehud.16 In any case, then there was a considerable variety among those who worked on or financially support the work on the wall. It required significant organization, labor, and materials. Within the narrative of Nehemiah, it appears clear, as Williamson notes, that the significant diversity of involved persons in Neh 3 depicts a remarkable willingness to work together on behalf of a wide swath of people.17 The purpose given in the text seems to arise primarily from the motivation of ethnic pride (1:2–4; 2:3, 17). Within the broader historical context, scholars often surmise the politically pragmatic motivation of Persian attempts to strengthen its control on its western frontier in the light of Egyptian unrest.18 However, Jerusalem does not lie on the border, so this does not really explain the building of a ‫בירתה‬, if this means a stronghold. Perhaps more likely is the notion that allowing for some (pro-Persian) regional-ethnic pride could prove a bulwark in the case of the rise of Egypt power.19 Such a formulation requires, however, some semblance of internal motivation as well, thus arguing against simply a top-down order from the Persian Emperor or his representatives. This accords well with the portrayal of Nehemiah in 2:17–18 as attempting to persuade the people of Yehud to rebuild the city walls (and the reverse in the nobles from Tekoa refusing to participate in 3:5). 15

Ibid., 86. Blenkinsopp, Ezra, Nehemiah, 232–33 has noted that this was the case for the rebuilding of the Athenian wall in the same era. 17 Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 211. 18 E.g., Berlejung, “General and Religious History of ‘Israel,’” 199. 19 Ibid. 16

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If this direction has merit, then the importance of financial (and labor) investment by the choice of those who take part in rebuilding the walls is at least in part a volitional choice to join the Yehud community centered in Jerusalem. This endeavor of supporting the ethnically-based community was an optional financial choice that was, however, countenanced by the Persian Emperor (2:4– 8), though one would expect for pragmatic political reasons at minimum. Given that some of the names mentioned in the rebuilding account, such as Eliashib (3:1; cf. 6:1–14; 13:4–9) and Meshullam (v. 30; cf. 6:1–14; 12:44; 13:7), accord with those of Nehemiah’s opponents elsewhere in the book, identification with the Jerusalem-based community remained in flux. Both these individuals maintained close ties to Samaria,20 which does fit well the recent archaeological evidence from Gerizim, which suggests a competing temple located there at this time. While in an oblique manner, Neh 3 shows how voluntary economic commitment was at the heart of Nehemiah’s theme of Judean identity. In this situation, some persons are included whom Nehemiah later excises from his good graces for their commitments to those affiliated with Samaria.

8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity 8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity

This chapter includes two separate scenes (vv. 1–13 and vv. 14–19) that are central for discussion of the economic ramifications within the book. In this section I will address the first. It has served as the scriptural location for extensive expositions of biblical economic ethics in the history of scholarship.21 Because of its importance, my discussion of this chapter will take on a more substantive nature. I begin with a translation and philological discussion of the economic terminology because a number of terms are debated. Then the compositional history is addressed, followed by my overall interpretation of the passage, which concludes the section. (1) And the cry of the people22 and their wives was great to their brother Judeans. (2) Now there were those saying, 20

Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 233. Telling is a brief glance at the frequency of its appearance in the index of Adams, Social and Economic Life. 22 Following Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 182 (and n. 53), usually a cry is to a king. See Exod 5:15; 2 Sam 19:29; 2 Kgs 6:26, 8:3, 5. However, in 2 Kgs 4:1 it is to Elisha about a creditor coming to seize sons. ‫צעק‬/‫ ז‬+ ‫ שׁמע‬only elsewhere of God, i.e., Deut 26:7, Neh 9:27– 28, as noted by Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 129 and n. 41. 21

250

8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

“Our sons and our daughters – we are many,23 so let us receive grain, and let us eat so that we can live.” (3) And there were those saying, “Our fields and our vineyards and our houses – we have mortgaged,24 so that we may receive grain during the food shortage.”25 (4) And there were those saying, “We have borrowed silver for the royal tribute, our fields and our vineyards.26 (5) And now, like the flesh of our brothers is our flesh; like their sons are our sons. Yet look! We are subjecting our sons and our daughters to be slaves. 23 The statement “We are many” is striking in the context, given that Jerusalem is underpopulated in the Persian period (they draw lots to see who will move back in Neh 11:1–2; cf. Neh 7:4). This may provide support for the oft posited emendation of ‫ רבים‬to ‫ערבים‬. See Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 117–18 for reasons for; and Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 232 for reasons contra this emendation. 24 Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 237, points to Kraeling (Brooklyn Museum Aramaic Papyri, 1953, text 11). DNWSI, 885–86 (‘rb5, ‘rbn) there are several Official Aramaic inscriptions supporting the reading “guarantee/guarantor” or “security, pledge, surety” and the like (KAI 60:5–6; TADAE A 2.3, B 4.6, i.a.). 25 “Food shortage” is likely more appropriate, given that famine entails mass starvation, which was not likely to have been widespread. The passage certainly gives no indication of human death as a result of this situation, yet the rhetorical force of the passage could possibly suggest using the more drastic term. See my discussion of shortage and famine, Altmann, “Feast and Famine,” 153. 26 BHK (Rudolph) sees this as an addition. The verb only occurs in qal four additional times: Deut 28:12; Prov 22:7; Ps 37:21; and Isa 24:2. It never otherwise mentions any type of collateral – nor even the object borrowed. Most hiphil appearances (Deut 28:12, 44; Isa 24:2; Ps 37:26; 112:5 Prov 19:17) do not even mention the object on loan. The focus is instead on the parties involved (as subject and indirect object without preposition). Exodus 22:24, however, does name ‫כסף‬, as the object loaned (‫)תלוה‬. It goes on to elaborate how one should lend – not as a ‫נשׁה‬, who sets upon the borrower a ‫נשׁך‬. How exactly the next verse (v. 25), with its command to return a neighbor’s garment taken in pledge (‫ )חבל‬in the evening, relates to the lending of v. 24 is difficult to determine. Form-critically, both begin with ‫ אם‬and contain both protasis and apodosis. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 185, sees the closest inter-text to Neh 5:4 as Deut 23:20–21. These verses of Deuteronomy address ‫נשׁך‬, as well as ‫לוה‬. Addressing patronage lending Houston, Contending for Justice, 104, provides the following precaution while address Ezek 18, which may apply just as well to Neh 5. He states: “The ancient Near Eastern law and custom of credit and particularly of pledges is a maze, and it is difficult to pronounce confidently on the precise application of Ezekiel's terse expression. We have a vast quantity of loan contracts from Mesopotamia, which show that every conceivable variety of custom was practised; but we are unable to say for certain which of them applied in Israel and Judah.”

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251

And some of our daughters, they are subjected [already], yet there is nothing – with regard to power of our hands27 – both our fields and our vineyards belong to others. (6) And I became very angry when I heard their cry and these claims.28 (7) So my heart took counsel with me, then I contended with the nobles and the prefects, and I said to them, “Each of you is lending at interest to his brother!” So I set concerning them a great assembly. (8) And I said to them, “We are acquiring our brother Judeans – sold29 to the nations – as much as we are able.30 But you are selling your brothers; then they are sold to us.”31 Then they were silent, and they did not find a rebuttal. (9) And I32 said, “The thing that you are doing is not good. Will you not walk in fear of God because of33 the shame of the nations, our enemies? (10) And also, I and my brothers and my adherents are lending them silver and grain – let us abandon34 this debt!35

27

‫לאל ידנו‬: cf. Gen 31:29, Prov 3:27, Mic 2:1; esp. Deut 28:32, and LXX (of Neh 5:5): και ουκ εστιν δυναμις χειρων ημων, or in some texts (93; L LA). 28 I use the term “claims” to refer to the statements made in vv. 2–5. 29 Niphal part. 30 ‫בנו‬, literally as much as is “in us” – cf. HALOT, 219. 31 Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 116 translates as a question: “Ihr aber wollt eure Brüder verkaufen, damit sie verkauft werden an uns?” 32 With qere, G, V, S, and most commentators read ‫ ;ואומר‬I understand the MT (‫)ויאמר‬ as representing a scribal error and emend. 33 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 186, “because of” (a causal use of ‫מן‬: see Bill T. Arnold and John H. Choi, A Guide to Biblical Hebrew Syntax [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003], 117d; WOC, 11,2,11d. #10–12). The implication is the avoidance of shame; cf. Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 116; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 232. 34 LXX B’ S are followed by the Göttingen LXX (Hanhart), so εγκατελιπομεν (“we have abandoned”); an aor. ind. is also found in A, V, and others. The subjunctive εγκατελιπωμεν is only found in relatively few texts. 35 This word, ‫המשׁא‬, is one of the cruxes of the passage. For example Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 116 translates “diese Schuldforderung,” as if it was the whole loan. LXX has απαιτησις, according to Johan Lust, ed., Greek-English Lexicon of the Septuagint, Rev. ed. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2003), 59., “claim, right to demand”; according to TLG, it can include connotations of making a formal demand), which does not define the specific nature of the demand.

252

8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

(11) Return now to them – today! – their fields, their vineyards, their olive groves, and their houses, and the hundredth36 of silver and grain, new wine and oil that you are lending [at interest] to them.” (12) And they said, “We will return, and from them we will not seek. So we will do just as you are saying.” And I called the priests And I had them swear an oath to do this very thing. (13) Also I shook out the bosom [of my garment] and I said, “In this manner may God shake each man who does not make this thing happen, from his house and his produce, and may he be shaken and empty in this way.” And the whole assembly said, “May it be so.” And they praised Yahweh. And the people acted accordingly. 8.2.1. Philological Reflections on Economic Terms in Neh 5:1–13 Just what was the nature of the lending that was taking place in vv. 3–4, 7–8? The terms are at times philologically unclear. Verse 3 uses a participial form of ‫ערב‬, while v. 4 uses a finite form of ‫לוה‬. Nehemiah’s diatribe employs different terms – ‫ משׁא‬as a noun (vv. 7, 10), ‫ נשׁא‬as a participle (v. 7), and the related ‫ נשׁה‬as a participle (vv. 10, 11). The situation is also bound up with “taking” (‫ )לקח‬grain in vv. 2–3, “subjecting” (‫ )כבשׁ‬children in v. 5, “selling” (‫ )מכר‬and “buying” (‫ )קנה‬in v. 8, “abandoning” (‫ )עזב‬a loan in v. 10, and “returning” (‫ )שׁוב‬deposits in v. 11. It is clear from the start is that the language of commerce and finance is densely represented in the section. Before looking at these terms, it is noteworthy that the terms for prohibited lending, ‫ נשׁך‬and ‫תרבית‬/‫מרבית‬, from the Pentateuch do not appear.37 This determination raises the question of whether the loans in Neh 5 involved interest at

36

Following Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 233; against Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 116:“die Schuld an Geld ….” OG translates και απο, which BHQ remarks as “via “.‫ומ ֵאת‬ ֵ “ ‫ומ ֵאת‬ ֵ . If the MT is accepted, then the earlier suggestion of one hundredth per month from Edward Neufeld, “The Rate of Interest and the Text of Nehemiah 5.11,” JQR, New Series 44 (1954): 198, should be followed. Some read “debt,” which requires emendation to ‫( ומשׁאת‬cf. Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 118 who takes this approach along with others). Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 130, supports the emendation by positing haplography based on the similarity between the letters mem and shin in the cursive script. 37 Cf. Exod 22:24; Lev 25:36–37; Deut 23:20–21; also Ezek 18:8–17; 22:12; Ps 15:5; Prov 28:8. For a recent discussion of these, see Joshua Buch, “Neshekh and Tarbit: Usury from Bible to Modern Finance,” JBQ 33 (2005): 13–22.

8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity

253

any rate.38 This depends, of course, in first order on whether ‫ מאת‬is read instead as ‫ משׁאת‬v. 11. The field of meaning for ‫“ ערב‬stand surety” – one of four homonyms – entails a certain degree of diversity in both the biblical and extra-biblical material. The basic idea of giving one’s pledge, in the form of one’s person or a concrete item, for future repayment is used in literal and metaphorical contexts. Nowhere does interest necessarily play into the equation; the focus is instead on the exchange of a particular item as a guarantee. Lipiński argues that the situation in Neh 5:5 points to an antichretic arrangement, where the creditors took the pledge, in this case some of the daughters, who began paying off the debt with their labor. If this was the case, he argues, no date for the repayment need be set because the debtor’s pledge was in the process of paying it off.39 This interpretation can be questioned: there is no appearance of ‫ ערב‬in the verse, so its direct connection to a pledge taken antichretically cannot be determined. Furthermore, I consider it unlikely that someone would willingly enter debt slavery on behalf of a foreigner, which would be the case in Gen 44:32 and Prov 17:18 if this is the meaning of the term. It is preferable to understand the events in Neh 5:5a in light of v. 5b. The reason why some of the daughters have already been subjugated lies in the fact that the peasants have nothing else to guarantee a loan – their fields and vineyards are already gone. They have no other means of getting food to eat: the harvest has been poor, and they cannot pay back their debts. Now the pledges of their daughters are being taken. Pledges (‫ )ערבן‬appear several times in Elephantine, but perhaps not as much as one would expect, given the number of extant contracts. Nonetheless, TADAE B3.13:9, 13, 17 give the creditor and successors the right to seize any security pledge or belongings, including food, from the debtor or successors until the silver debt and its interest is repaid ( ‫ ובניך שליטן למלקח לך כל ערבן זי תשכח‬... ‫אנת‬ ‫ עד תתמלא בכספך ומרביתה‬... ‫לי‬, “You … and your children shall have authority to take for yourself any pledge that you find … until your silver and its interest are satisfied.” B3.13:9–11).40 However, the closest comparison to Neh 5:3 appears in A3.8:4–4: But if [they will not give] all [the] silver on interest, or they will not gi[ve] to you saying: “Give a pledge,” sell the house of ZKR and the house of AŠN […] If they will not sell OR BUY them, seek someone who will buy the [b]ig house of HWDW, and give to him the silver which is placed upon it.41

38

This is the assumption made in John E. Anderson, “A Biblical and Economic Analysis of Jubilee Property Provisions,” Faith & Economics 46 (2005): 37. 39 Edward Lipiński, “‫ ַרב‬Iָ I,” TWAT, 6:353–54. 40 A similar scenario appears in another silver loan in a broken context (B4.6) and in a grain loan (B3.13). 41 Translation modified from TADAE A:42.

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8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

This text shows how the proceeds from the sale of a house function as a pledge for a loan of silver. In an attempt to borrow 10 karsh (from the late fifth century BCE), instructions are given to raise funds, if need be through offering houses as security. If these are not appealing conditions to the creditors, then funds should be raised through the sale of a larger house. Lending (‫ )לוה‬is viewed from two different perspectives in the Old Testament. One is that it is good to lend to those in need (Pss 37:26; 112:5; Exod 22:24; Prov 19:17). The second is in terms of the power that the lender possesses over the borrower in the given cultural context (Deut 28:12, 44; Prov 22:7; Isa 24:2) because the loan should be repaid (cf. Ps 37:21). No cognates occur in the related languages. As for ‫נשׁה‬/‫נשׁא‬, Gross provides the most complete discussion of the term, limiting his study to the MT and accepting the comparative data pointing to ‫רשׁא‬.42 He considers the Torah usage, presupposing that Nehemiah would not contradict what is found there. He follows the interpretation of NJPS: … pressing claims for repayment: so NJPS (‘Are you pressing claims on loans made to your brothers?’). Demanding repayment of a debt at a time of economic hardship was not forbidden by Torah, but it is hardly consistent with the humane principles of the Covenant. The perpetrators were not acting illegally, but they were acting selfishly and inconsiderately.43

Gross’ discussion attempts to separate the issue of ‫ נשׁא‬under discussion in Neh 5 from the demand for excessive or any necessary interest. His argument is more or less compelling, but at the end of his article he takes up the question of the problematic term ‫( ְמאַ ת‬v. 11; see below) and sees this as interest (like Williamson, for example), so interest does creep into his interpretation of the passage. Taking a look at the data, Exod 22:24 contrasts necessary lending (‫ )לוה‬to the poor with a prohibition against giving like a ‫נשׁה‬. Generally speaking, ‫נשׁה‬/‫ נשׁא‬is painted in a negative light. “Gegenüber den genannten Verben ist bei nš' das Gewinn- und Spekulationsinteresse ausschlaggebend.”44 Problematic with this interpretation by Hossfeld and Reuter is its reflection of a situation in which one attempts to make money directly by lending, a practice generally unknown in the ancient Near East. Exodus undoubtedly has a negative action in mind, but it would more likely relate to the attempt to acquire labor or usufruct of land. Deuteronomy 24:10 could be seen as using the term more neutrally: when one loans (‫ )נשׁה‬a loan of anything (‫)משׁאת מאומה‬, then there are certain limits to

42

C. D. Gross, “Is There Any Interest in Nehemiah 5?,” SJOT 11 (1997): 270–78. Note my rejection of this comparative data below, n. 895. 43 Ibid., 273–74. 44 Frank-Lothar Hossfeld and Eleonore Reuter, “‫נָ ָשׁא‬,” TWAT, 6:663.

8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity

255

how one takes possession of the pledge.45 Yet, given that the whole chapter (Deut 24) sets limits on practices that could easily become oppressive, a negative tinge does accompany the lending in 24:10–13. So what does it mean to “give like a ‫ ”?נשׁה‬The comparative evidence is rather meager: HALOT lists the Arabic verb (nasa’u) as meaning “to sell with delayed payment.”46 In Isa 50:1 the notion of selling a person into debt slavery arises: “Or which of my creditors is it to whom I have sold you?” (NRSV; note the similar action with regard to a debtor’s children in 2 Kgs 4:1). Likewise, in Ps 109:11 a creditor seizes the debtor’s belongings. LXX uses απαιτειν “to ask or demand back” for Neh 5:7 (‫)נשׂאים‬, but different terms with similar meanings render ‫א‬/‫ נשׁה‬in other places.47 The formulation of the verse is somewhat different, however:

45

Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 184:“Yet whatever type of lending practice the expression implies, Deut 24:10 clearly does not forbid it. Indeed, while these laws describe the proper procedures for seizing the collateral, Nehemiah looks negatively upon ‫ משׁא‬and the whole lending practice associated with the term.” Wright sees the essence of ‫ נשׁא‬as lending against surety or collateral. 46 HALOT, 728. The Arabic reference here is to H. Zimmern, Akkadische Fremdwörter, 2nd. ed. (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1917), 17 – which is quite interesting, given that the reference is to Arabic!; the Old South Arabic reference is from Carlo Conti-Rossini, Chrestomathia Arabica Medidionalis Epigraphica (Rome: Instituto per l'Oriente, 1931), 187b. I do not have access to Conti-Rossini’s work. Included in the information from HALOT is also the Akkadian rāšû/rāšûtu and Aramaic ‫רשׁי‬/‫רשׁא‬. In fact, Wilhelm Gesenius and D. Rudolf Meyer, Hebräisches und aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament, ed. Herbert Donner, 18th. ed. (Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer, 2007), 854 considers the word a loan word from Akkadian. While the meaning is similar (and ‫ רשׁא‬shows up in later Hebrew), I consider it more likely that the relationship is rather to Heb. ‫רשׁא‬, which came into Hebrew as an Aramaism in late biblical texts (i.e., ‫ רשׁיון‬in Ezra 3:7, cf. CD 11:20), and is known much earlier in Aramaic dialects (cf. DNWSI, 1086). However, Ḥayyim ben Yosef Ṭawil, An Akkadian Lexical Companion for Biblical Hebrew: Etymological-Semantic and Idiomatic Equivalents with Supplement on Biblical Aramaic (Jersey City, NJ: KTAV, 2009) does not include a comparable Akkadian term for ‫נשׁא‬. A correspondence can be found between /n/ and /r/ in, i.e., ben=bar, šĕnayim=tĕrên, and Akk. bīrit = (Heb.) bayin See Carl Brockelmann, Grundriss Der Vergleichenden Grammatik Der Semitischen Sprachen, 2 vols. (Hildesheim: Olms, 1961), 230, §84.2.ε. However, I know of no such correspondence in the word initial letter. There is overlap in meaning with Akk. našû (CAD N: 98: “to collect assets, debts … ”): this results from Heb. ś = Akk. š. 47 Exod 22:24 uses κατεπειγω “press down”; Deut 15:2; 24:10; Isa 24:2 speak of “owing” (οφειλω); 1 Sam 22:2; Isa 50:1 use “indebted” (υποκρεως); Ps 109:11 (LXX 108:11) uses “moneylender, creditor” (δανειστης; Deut 24:11 and also Isa 24:2 use a verbal form of this root). In Neh 5:11 εκφερω appears for ‫נשׁה‬, which is from ‫נשׂא‬, so LXX provides no help for approaching a clearer understanding of ‫ה‬/‫ נשׁא‬here.

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Neh 5:7: MT and LXX ‫ואמרה להם מַ שָּׁ א אישׁ־באחיו אתם נשׁאים‬ And I said to them, “A loan pledge – each against his brother – you are loaning.”

καὶ εἶπα αὐτοῖς Ἀπαιτήσει ἀνὴρ τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ ὑμεῖς ἀπαιτεῖτε And I said to them, “Will a man demand back of his brother? You are demanding back.”

The syntax is admittedly difficult here. If the Greek assumes the same Hebrew Vorlage, then it possibly understood ‫ משׁא‬as a hiphil participle (cf. instead of the noun that the Masoretic text suggests), and then – in order to render the clause idiomatically, made it into a finite verb. Yet the use of the same root for the qal participle later in the verse complicates this reading. The use of απαιτειν in 5:7 supports Rudolph’s claim that ‫ משׁא‬should be repointed as ‫משׂא‬, resulting in a meaning for ‫א‬/‫ נשׁה‬of giving on pledge, on the one hand, in its lexical meaning. He translates, “‘eine Last legt ihr, einer wie der andere auf seinen Bruder!’”48 However, on the other hand, his rendering goes against the Greek version’s interpretation, which understands both ‫ משׂא‬and ‫ נשׁאים‬from the same root. Neither does his interpretation address the pledge nature of ‫נשׁא‬. Nonetheless, if this kind of lending was necessarily related to loaning on pledge, then it seems odd that one of the distinct words for pledge – ‫ ערבה‬or ‫ – ערבון‬does not appear.49 There is one quite surprising rendering of ‫נשׁה‬, and this occurs in Neh 5:10, for which LXX uses εθηκαμεν (aor. act. ind. 1 pl. of τιθημι), and this appears to be a clear attempt by the LXX to exonerate Nehemiah and his associates: Neh 5:10: MT and LXX ‫וגם־אני אחי ונערי נשׁים בהם כּסף ודגן נעזבה־נא‬ ‫את־המשׁא הזה‬

καὶ οἱ ἀδελφοί μου καὶ οἱ γνωστοί μου καὶ ἐγὼ ἐθήκαμεν ἑαὐτοῖς ἀργύριον καὶ σῖτον ἐγκατελίπομεν δὴ τὴν ἀπαίτησιν ταύτην50

48 Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 130. Better is Schunck, Nehemia, 142–43: “Eine Gläubigerschuld habt ihr euch ein jeder gegenüber seinem Bruder verschafft.” 49 Note the opposite conclusion by Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 183–84: “In light of the evidence provided by all three texts [also Prov 22:26, Deut 24:10], one can conclude that the expression ‫ משׁא‬with ‫ ב‬+‫ נשׁא‬probably does not refer to excessive interest (usury), but rather to lending against surety or collateral.” 50 The Greek text follows Robert Hanhart, Esdrae Libri I-II, Septuaginta Vol. 8,1-2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1974).

8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity Now both I, my brothers, and my associates lent at interest silver and grain to them. Let us now abandon this claim.

257

Now my brothers and my associates and I ourselves put up silver and grain. We also abandoned this demanding back.51

The difference between the use of απαιτειν a few verses earlier and τιθημι here is quite striking.52 This rendering appears to be a clear attempt to distance Nehemiah and his supporters from the problematic lending practices of those he has begun a legal process against. There is obviously something of a logical difficulty here, but, Gunneweg, for example, presents another possible solution. Nehemiah actually identifies himself closely with those he reprimands, which serves to strengthen his rhetorical position. If he, as a member of the elite like them, chooses to give up his economic claims, then perhaps they will be more easily won over to do the same.53 This is the only place where a form of τιθημι should render ‫ה‬/‫נשׁא‬,54 which would be in accordance with just such a deliberate change. This notion is strengthened by the fact that the substantive form, ‫משׁא‬, is rendered with a form of the same root at the end of the verse (ἀπαίτησιν). The notion of “taking” (‫ )לקח‬in the sense of “procuring” something, in vv. 2–3 used with regard to grain, also appears elsewhere meaning “buying” or some kind of transactional acquisition (e.g., Prov 31:16 – a field).55 If the connection between acquiring a wife can be taken to implicate important economic issues, then the numerous appearances of ‫ לקח‬in these contexts (also Neh 10:31) can be added as a further use laden with transactional implications. Another key term appearing in the passage is “subject, subdue” (‫)כבשׁ‬. Its verbal forms appear only a handful of times in BH, but with various connotations. The qal is used with regard to militarily subduing an enemy or its land (Zech 9:15; Gen 1:28; metaphorically of sins: Mic 7:19) and for rape (Esth 7:8).56 The context of forcing into slavery (2 Chr 28:10; Jer 34:11 (qere), 16) is found for the peasants’ children in Neh 5:5. The niphal also occurs in Neh 5:5 for the peasants’ daughters, but this occurrence is likely the only one that 51

Translation generally follows Albert Pietersma and Benjamin G. Wright, A New English Translation of the Septuagint and the Other Greek Translations Traditionally Included under That Title: An Essential Resource for Biblical Studies (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 416. 52 Antonius H. J Gunneweg, Nehemia, vol. 19,2, KAT (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Mohn, 1987), 88 n. 4:“Vrs haben die Schwierigkeit gespürt.” 53 Ibid., 87–88. 54 Edwin Hatch and Henry Adeney Redpath, A Concordance to the Septuagint and the Other Greek Versions of the Old Testament (including the Apocryphal Books) (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1998), 1351 list no underlying Hebrew for Neh 5:10. 55 BDB: 543 (4.b.) does not list any other verses with transactional ramifications, and even these (Neh 5:2, Prov 31:16) are not listed together for this reason. 56 Subduing an enemy is also the implication of the piel in 2 Sam 8:11, where David donates precious goods from nations he had subdued them (‫)כבש‬.

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is a passive of the qal with implications of being taken into slavery.57 The verb is used several times in the Egyptian Aramaic documents (TADAE B3.9:5; C1.1:152, 187; C1.1fraga:1). In an adoption contract (B3.9:5), a certain Uriah commits himself to taking a certain Jedaniah as a son and to not subjugating him [to the status of] a slave (‫)אכבשנהי עבד‬. According to this document, slavery relates to a legal status beneath that of a son. The LXX only uses καταδυναστευω to render ‫( כבשׁ‬but piel) in one other case – 2 Sam 8:11 – where it concerns the nations David has “subdued,” or “conquered. The Greek term is also used, however, in the sense of pressing into slavery for ‫( עמר‬hithpael) in Deut 24:7 and of general oppression (‫ )עשׁק‬of the weak or poor in Amos 4:1; Zech 7:10; Mal 3:5, and especially Mic 2:2; Ezek 18:7, 12, 16 (‫ ינה‬hiphil), which have many similarities with the situation here. “Selling” (‫מכר‬: qal, niphal) and “buying” (‫)קנה‬, in Neh 5:8 (also 10:32; 13:15–16, 20) are quite common in BH. According to BDB, the most frequent occurrence of ‫ מכר‬is with the sale of humans, especially daughters (Exod 21:7– 8).58 The reflexive and the passive niphal appearing in Neh 5:8. The use of “abandoning” (‫ )עזב‬with regard to a loan in v. 10 appears only here in BH.59 Nonetheless, the Aramaic term, ‫שׁבק‬, appears in the Egyptian Aramaic literature with the same meaning: (in ATNS 35:5 “he will remit my debt.60 “Returning” (‫שׁוב‬, hiphil) fields, vineyards, olive groves and houses, in 5:11, appears with similar usage in Lev 25:27 and Deut 24:13. In the Deuteronomy passage, the concern is to “return” the pledge that a poor person had given before nightfall, in order that he may use it to keep warm. If the meaning is the same in Neh 5:11, then no indication of the writing off of loan occurs. In Lev 25:27, on the other hand, the term means the re-acquisition of a field that one had sold (the means of payment – silver – only appears in v. 51). Ugaritic CTU 3.4:17 ‘d tṯṯbn ksp iwrkl can be read “until they return the money to PN.61 Similar usage is found in Aramaic: ‫( אתבו על מריהם‬the goods they have taken, they returned to the owners of it).62 57 Elsewhere the niphal addresses military conquest (Num 32:22, 29; Josh 18:1; 1 Chr 22:18). 58 BDB, 569. 59 Also Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 142. See G. R. Driver, “Problems in the Hebrew Text of Job,” in Wisdom in Israel and the Ancient Near East, ed. M. Noth and D. W. Thomas, VTSup 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1955), 76 n. 3. 60 Segal, Aramaic Texts from North Saqqara. Cf. TADAE B4.7.5, B8.5.9, 16. The second brings release of a person in relation with a payment of silver.It is possible that the same meaning should be understood for D7.18: “Regard my tunic which I abandoned [in the] house – the House of YHH. Say to Uriah he should set it upon Salluah.” 61 Gregorio del Olmo Lete and Joaquín Sanmartín, A Dictionary of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition, trans. W. G. E Watson, vol. 2, 2nd rev. ed., HdO 67 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 896. 62 Cowley 34:6. TAD B7.1 (Cow 45) 5 has ’twb, which must, however, be G (Grundstamm).

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There is considerable debate over the phrase ‫ אשׁר אתם נשׁים בהם‬... ‫ומאת הכספ‬, especially the meaning of ‫מאת‬. The LXX, reading the same consonantal text, offers και απο του αργυριου. This understanding is certainly possible and much easier, but this makes the MT more attractive in terms of the lectio difficilior. The most promising solution appears to be interpreting the word as a general term for interest, which could be found for me-at in Akkadian.63 A more speculative solution would be to bring this amount in connection with the denomination (‫ )מעה‬of silver appearing in fourth century Edomite records from Tel Beer Sheba, Tel ‘Ira, and Tel Arad. This interpretation requires a change along the way of ‫א > ע‬, which occurs quite commonly. Therefore, given the difficulty that even the early versions had in understanding the word, it would not be surprising. It can be concluded from these remarks that Neh 5:1–13 takes part in a welldeveloped number of practices regarding loans and interest among Jews in Yehud (and Egypt and Babylonia) in the Persian period. Though present understanding of each term is limited, these boundaries of understanding lie primarily in modern difficulties to understand intricate economic terminology. 8.2.2. Compositional and Historical Location of Neh 5:1–13 Having provided some philological reflections on the key economic terms in the passage, I now turn to several preliminary remarks about the overall section, and then to the compositional and historical setting of the section. The overall section of vv. 1–13 can be divided into v. 1 (setting), vv. 2–5 (complaints of the people), vv. 6–12 (contending with the nobles), and v. 13 (subsequent oath and action). As noted recently by Bautsch, and earlier by many others, the question of group – kin – identity and its relationship to economic issues plays a decisive role in this section.64 In the section Nehemiah constructs the choice of a binary view of identity: he presents only the options of Judean – set on par with family belonging, and others (‫אחרים‬, v. 5), that is, the nations (‫גוים‬, v. 8), “our enemies” (‫אויבינו‬, apposite to “the nations” in v. 9). This picks up on the usage in v. 5, with its use of both family language and the language of equality (“our flesh/children [are]

63 CAD 10:2, 2. For more detail, see the discussion in Gerald M. Bilkes, “A Civic Vision: Nehemiah’s Administrative Policies in Context” (PhD diss., Princeton Theological Seminary, 2002), 60. 64 Richard J. Bautch, “The Function of Covenant across Ezra–Nehemiah,” in Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah: Redaction, Rhetoric, and Reader, ed. M. J. Boda and P. L. Redditt, Hebrew Bible Monographs 17 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008), 15. Note his insightful mention on the pun between ‫לאחרים‬, (“belonging to others”) and the fact that they are actually “brothers,” ‫אחים‬. See also the importance of ‫עם‬, highlighted by Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 120–21.

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like their flesh/children”). Those with the ability to share with struggling Judean farmers are accused instead of foreclosing on or taking in exchange real property and family members for grain at a time of food shortage. Nehemiah confronts them in the presence of a large assembly, pressuring them to choose social-religious identification with the Judeans and Yahweh over immediate financial gain. Can this passage be seen as a compositionally unified layer, and how does it fit into the surrounding context? In terms of its internal unity, the mention of our fields and our vineyards in v. 4 may be the most difficult part of these verses in terms of syntax. This does not necessarily imply that it resulted from Fortschreibung, but that is one distinct possibility.65 Otherwise, the passage is generally seen as a unity, though its connection to the narrative of building the wall and other parts of a “Nehemiah Memoir” are controversial.66 In answer to the second question, some interpreters see the emergence of economic problems and food shortages as a result of the intensive work party focused on building the Jerusalem walls. According to this view, farmers were unable to conduct necessary tasks on their farms, and they had therefore fallen into dire straits. It could also be that the wall building exacerbated an already existing problem.67 The strongest argument in favor is a lack of evidence for the opposite position. Jacob Wright – building on a long line of interpreters – argues for a contrary position. He views this entire chapter as later developments intent on turning the original Nehemiah building report into the recounting of Judah’s Restoration.68 His reasoning includes both what he sees as a thematically naturally development from the material in Neh 4 to Neh 6, which Neh 5 breaks without the kind of transitions one would expect from a unified composition.69 Accepting this line of thinking loosens the chapter’s ties to the immediate events at

65

Schunck, Nehemia, 143 argues that it does not work here because ‫ לוה‬cannot take a double accusative. This follows earlier commentators. 66 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 186–87, concludes that 5:1–13, 19 was in fact the latest part of the chapter. 67 Albertz, “Zur Wirtschaftspolitik des Perserreiches”; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 235–36. 68 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 163; Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 119–20, and n. 15 provides a thorough summary of scholarly positions. He argues for a similar conclusion to that of Wright, although Reinmuth still posits Nehemiah as the actual composer of chap. 5, just significantly later in his life. 69 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 165–66.

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the beginning of Nehemiah’s stay in Jerusalem, perhaps suggesting that it represents something of a type scene for events that took place during the period.70 Throntveit goes so far in his commentary as to discuss this chapter as an appendix, after chapter 13 based on structural concerns within Neh 1–7.71 I find it important to ask just which historical periods could comfortably house such a scene. The difficulty with placing it in the mid-fifth century BCE hangs together with a geographic question: Where do these events take place? The traditional answer would be in Jerusalem, given the narrative’s location after the events concerning the building of the wall in ch. 4. Because Jerusalem only becomes a significant (in terms of population) center in the fourth-third centuries BCE, this time period presents a better possibility. However, I would instead suggest that the scene could actually fit better in the fifth century, especially if imagined to have taken place at the governor’s residence, which the archaeological remains suggest was mostly likely was Ramat Rahel, not Jerusalem. If this is the case, then there is also a different, and, I would suggest, more conceivable setting for the various cries and complaints of the people to come to “governor” Nehemiah, located several kilometers from Jerusalem. Perhaps this setting fits even better because the various foreclosures take place throughout the fertile valleys of the Judean hill country, like those surrounding Ramat Rahel. This conclusion also fits with the remainder of the chapter, 5:14– 18, with its focus on events at the governor’s household. This suggestion need not indicate that the section was originally part of the “wall building narrative.” Following the indications from a number of commentators, the social-economic concerns could indeed have been early, but were not part of the Nehemiah Memoir. However, another possibility is that it simply represents a redactional expansion. One argument that should be addressed with regard to the economic nature of the discussion is Guillaume’s recent work, which shows the difficulty with identifying the events portrayed in this case as an “episodic crisis.”72 His position is supported by the repeated use of participial clauses in vv. 2–5, which could imply a longer-term set of circumstances.73 Yet the mention of ‫ ברעב‬does imply a more crisis-like situation than his argument seems to admit. He goes on to argue instead that the whole passage is more or less a display of royal (or in this case, gubernatorial) rhetoric that uses the purported plight 70

Mark A. Throntveit, Ezra, Nehemiah, Interpretation (Louisville, KY: Knox, 1992), 61, claims “... nobody seriously doubts the authenticity of Nehemiah 5,” but the question of historicity certainly goes beyond the bounds of what historians can establish today. 71 Ibid.“ ... the intricacy of the concentric arrangement of Nehemiah 1:1-7:3, which pair every major episode in the narrative except chapter 5, suggests the obtrusive nature of Nehemiah’s social reforms in this context on structural grounds.” 72 He is very concerned in his article, “Nehemiah 5” to limit the definition of a crisis to events rather than structures that continue for long periods of time. 73 Cf. Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 121.

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of the peasants to weaken the position of other wealthy patrons in the society.74 While Guillaume no doubt correctly identifies the ideology/theology of the text, I question whether this accounts for as much of the import of the text as he suggests. Underlying difficulties for the populace remain, and these power relations – that each group benefited from the other – should not be seen in as positive a light as he claims. Philosophically, he seems to limit the view of the texts to the direct interests of particular groups – in itself a reductive analysis of human motivation.75 Guillaume then goes on to claim that the complaints in vv. 2–5 do not actually arise from poor peasants after all: As they have houses, fields, vineyards, olive groves and stores of oil, must and grain (Neh. 5:11), the debtors in question are neither poor nor destitute and there is no question of injustice … The insistence on equality disproves the notion that the text is dealing with the care of the poor and destitute. Nehemiah 5 writes a dialogue between people who insist they are equals and who suffer from a temporary problem of liquidity. ... Such accusations would be preposterous if the people who filed the complaint did not consider themselves as part of the elite as much as Nehemiah.76

This argument highlights the issue as one of liquidity and credit. Those having difficulties in these verses do generally have a means of supporting their own existence and the existence of their families. There are, however, several problems with his view. Does the possession, or rather usufruct, of agricultural domains and living quarters (‫ )בתים‬really imply elite status? This seems quite overstated. One indication in the text in support of the opposite conclusion appears in the use of ‫ החרים‬and ‫ הסגנים‬as the recipients of Nehemiah’s accusation in v. 7. This designation seems to set them apart socio-economically from those families raising their cries in vv. 1–5. Second, his conclusion that only those who were (once) part of the elite could make a claim for equality inadequately assimilates with the thrust of the Deuteronomic “brother” ethic (cf. Deut 15; also Lev 25: this leads to Guillaume completely redefining the meanings of these texts). Finally, when compared with classic Mesopotamian law collections, the problem of the loss of a house and especially field is directly related to impoverishment, not to conflicting elite claims. LE §39 states: “If a man becomes impoverished and then sells his house, whenever the buyer offers it for sale, the owner of the house shall have the right to redeem it.”77

74

Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 177–78; cf. 66. Houston, Contending for Justice, 13, offers a similar critique of similar positions: “Although these answers are partly true, they do not go deep enough.” 76 Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 179. In “Nehemiah 5,” 4, he argues: "Were the resenters poor and destitute, they would not have access to credit because no one lends to the poor.” 77 “The Laws of Eshnunna,” trans. Martha Roth (COS 2.130:333). 75

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Wright claims that the chapter turns to internal problems because external creditors can no longer be shouldered with blame for the bad state of the province. He argues, “It must have been composed as its authors realized that the affliction in the community persisted in spite of the repair of the ramparts.”78 He is correct in noting the book’s extension beyond the question of physical walls to internal relations. By turning the spotlight only inwards, however, Wright reduces the characters mentioned in vv. 2–8. Certainly the peasants and the nobles are the primary actors; however, powers external to the proposed Judean community impinge on the authority of the community itself: both the nations (‫ )גוים‬and the king’s tax (‫ )מדת המלך‬complicate the scenario. In fact, some claim that these outside circumstances are in fact what complicated the situation for Nehemiah’s attempted kinship community. This position, like many others, assumes some validity for Herodotus’ report (3.90– 97) on the Achaemenid tax system, which states that taxes needed to be paid in silver.79 The archaeological record at Ramat Rahel points to the collection of goods, likely as tax payments, so the burden of outside taxes was probably more than marginal. Peasants undoubtedly attempted to raise enough produce to cover their royal taxes – in silver and in kind – and difficulties with reaching this goal arise regularly in every society. Houston gives voice to this line of reasoning When we come to the time of Nehemiah, the primary responsibility for the impoverishment of the farmers must lie with the Persian government, although the complaints of the peasantry are directed against their creditors, who dealt with them more directly. Its policy was to maximize its cash revenue from the provinces, and Nehemiah expressly mentions ‘the king’s tax’ as the reason the peasants needed to borrow money (Neh. 5.4).80

Houston’s insight is a look behind the text when it suggests that the “primary responsibility” lay with the imperial tax burden. The most immediate cause, according to the text, is actually the shortage of food. If the harvest(s) had gone as most would have hoped, then even the longer-term structural dynamics of indebtedness would not have taken effect. Thus, the structural dynamics of prolonged indebtedness on the part of the farmers was certainly not the presenting problem, as Guillaume correctly points out: ... ‘permanent over-indebtedness’ (Kessler 2006: 120) seen as characteristic of the situation of biblical farmers from the eighth century BCE until Nehemiah has in fact always been the norm, even more so today, and that it constitutes the mark of a healthy economy rather than the sign 78

Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 187. Michael Heltzer, “The Provincial Taxation in the Achemaenid Empire and ‘Forty Shekels of Silver’ (Neh. 5, 15),” in The Province Judah and Jews in Persian Times (Jaffa: Archaeological Center Publications, 2008), 171, suggests that “The obligation to pay taxes forced the peasants onto the market and this compelled the administration to begin issuing coined money.” 80 Houston, Contending for Justice, 41; cf. 35. 79

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of a structural crisis. ... If over-indebtedness is permanent, it cannot be considered excessive by the simple fact that both parties are able to survive it. Permanent indebtedness is the regular dependence of farming on rural credit.81

Nonetheless, Houston’s claim gains support from his insight that the need for such loans from noble “patrons” arises in situations that can no longer offer the security of a clan. He argues that more “nuclear” families likely had come to play more dominant roles in the aftermath of the upheaval of the Assyrian invasions of the eighth-seventh centuries and the exiles of the sixth. Otherwise, or traditionally, these extended families would be expected to provide the bare necessities, hindering sale of children or usufruct.82 The narrative critique in Neh 5 appears to aim directly at the developments of a different form of economic functioning than was present in the prophetic memory of the authors.83 The earlier, or at least “traditional,” community-based ethic tended to function as a kind of risk sharing, and one need not expect interest from one’s neighbor in the village.84 In the postexilic setting where these “kin” and “kin-like relations” were no longer as readily available, Nehemiah urges the “new community” to take on such a view of one another – to treat each other as “brothers,” thereby re-constituting themselves as kin. Furthermore, Guillaume’s suggestion that long-term indebtedness is merely the way that the world works, so to speak, misses out on the relevant dynamics of crises. To take a recent example, the narrative of the 2008 financial crisis that began in the U.S. real estate market is intricately linked to the overabundance of credit, which, on encountering a speed bump in the form of a loss of confidence (and, as a result, liquidity), resulted in a systemic collapse. This illustration lays bare difficulties with Guillaume’s analysis. Problems of a structural nature underlie, and even make possible, the episodic eruption of a crisis. Therefore, it is not entirely correct to separate the issues of crisis and structural inadequacies, though “crisis” may not be the appropriate term for the structural side of the processes. There are certainly other counter examples, such as the modern Swiss real estate loans (Guillaume’s own cultural context!), which, because of the tax incentives to retain outstanding real estate debt, mean that precisely the wealthy are in a perpetual state of indebtedness. This leads to the investigation of the reasons for debt in the ancient world. Guillaume claims, as noted above, that only those with a certain amount of wealth would be able to borrow because they were the only ones with the collateral that would make the risk worth taking for the creditor. On an absolute

81

Guillaume, Land, Credit and Crisis, 121–22. Houston, Contending for Justice, 50. 83 Similarly, Bob Becking, Ezra, Nehemiah, and the Construction of Early Jewish Identity, FAT 80 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 79–80. 84 Chaney, “Debt Easement in Israelite History and Tradition,” 129. 82

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standard, he is undoubtedly correct. Yet his presentation seems to assume that taking on debt required a fairly elite status. For Mesopotamia, Wunsch counters The most common were the loans issued to small farmers, mainly consumption loans in the wake of crop failures and with regard to agricultural advances of seed grain and draft animals that had to be repaid in kind. Another typical reason for running into debt was to pay dues and taxes, including military obligations that were linked to certain holdings, and fees for access to irrigation and maintenance of the infrastructure. When the harvest was not sufficient to enable these obligations to be paid on time, debts mounted up.85

So it was the poor, or those in a crisis mode that were most likely to seek a loan for smaller and immediate demands. Furthermore, closer to Yehud, the Wadi Daliyeh slave titles show numerous Yahwistic names for slaves, which leads Gropp to conclude that they likely arise from situations of debt slavery.86 Consumption loans are quite different than loans to the wealthy in need of liquidity, and in fact reveal a similar situation to Neh 5: out of hunger – likely from crop failure – and the requirement to pay tax, a community debt crisis emerges. When it comes to the biblical data, Williams goes so far as to claim, “Of the biblically recorded loans the purposes of which are evident, all are intended for the relief of poverty.”87 However, most telling against Guillaume’s claims is the thoroughgoing prohibition of charging interest on loans whenever mention is made of it in the biblical texts. The biblical law treatises speak in unison: this practice – regulated in the Mesopotamian law treatises – is forbidden in the Covenant, Holiness, and Deuteronomic law treatises. The fact that there were loans of some sort is also clear, although the adding of interest is hard to maintain for these loans. While I would not argue that extended family structures or rural village structures necessarily lead to some kind of egalitarian system, the potential for long-term wealth extraction functions far better when familial ties and geographic distance between debtor and creditor are maximized. These are the circumstances of tributary systems of empires like those in the ancient Near East, which most likely developed from a less stratified village society in Iron I with regard to Israel and Judah. Regardless of the myriad of problems regarding the rise of the monarchy that have developed in the past several decades that problematize both Noth’s conception of an amphictyony and Gottwald’s egalitarian

85 Cornelia Wunsch, “Debt, Interest, Pledge and Forfeiture in the Neo-Babylonian and Early Achaemenid Period: The Evidence from Private Archives,” in Debt and Economic Renewal in the Ancient Near East, ed. M. Hudson and M. Van de Mieroop (Baltimore: CDL, 2002), 249. Italics mine. 86 Douglas M. Gropp, James VanderKam, and Monica Brady, Wadi Daliyeh II and Qumran Miscellanea, Part 2: The Samaria Papyri from Wadi Daliyeh (Oxford University Press, 2002), 36. 87 Williams, “Taking Interest in Interest,” 127.

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highland communities, there is some truth to their hypotheses: however perverted family relationships become, closer knit communities – especially those with (even perceived) blood connections – offer group protection against oppression by more removed, unrelated groups.88 The reason for this can be found in Guillaume’s own analysis. Any leader that wishes to continue in his or her position of power must maintain a certain level of health in the community. The small localization and number of a clan suggests that the leader must respond much quicker to the suffering of individuals than the leader of a nation or empire. A larger political entity can continue to exercise its authority with a greater numerical loss of lives than a smaller one. Given this foundation, the cries in Neh 5 are linked to mutual belonging – 1st person plural forms are rampant – and thereby call for the creditors to acknowledge their belonging to (or to choose to affiliate themselves with) the Yehud community. This position is strengthened by Nehemiah’s rhetoric in the second section (vv. 6–13). Nehemiah makes himself into something of an example for the (other) elites. In a quite interesting move, he notes that and his followers had also lent (‫ )נשׁים‬grain and silver, which contradicts the ordinance given in Exod 22:24. It appears from his presentation that he had given up this practice, however. Otherwise it would make little sense for him to have gone and repurchased members of the community from the surrounding peoples (v. 8). As Rudolph notes, “Die erhobenen Vorwürfe trafen ja teilweise ihn selbst (vgl. 3 mit 10a), aber die Art, wie er sie aus der Welt schaffte (10b), zeigte den Weg, wie der Ganze Mißstand zu beseitigen war.”89 If this reading of the passage is sustainable, then Nehemiah takes a profound step in identifying with the nobles, in admitting behavior that he now finds reprehensible. The question of whether this reading is likely depends largely on the genre of the passage; for instance, it would seem odd as a votive inscription, such as von Rad proposes.90 In order to understand the nature of Nehemiah and the nobles’ lending practices, a closer look at the terms involved becomes necessary. 8.2.3. Interpretation of Neh 5:1–13 While I have taken numerous analytical steps in the above sections that highlight the centrality and meaning of economics and of the economic terminology of Neh 5:1–13, this section will attempt to bring them together into a more integrated reading of the passage.

88 I do follow Roland Boer’s analysis of seeing these as “allocative” institutional forms. Cf. Boer, “The Sacred Economy of Ancient ‘Israel,’” and Sacred Economy, 82–109. 89 Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 129; also Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 240. 90 Von Rad, “Die Nehemia-Denkschrift.”

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The section begins by identifying a great cry (v. 1) and then gives three scenarios that have given rise to this tumult. The first (v. 2), lists a great number of mouths to feed in a period of food shortage. While many interpreters assume that that the many children could not have been the problem because children are viewed highly and as economic assets in antiquity, this is not the case in a time of hunger. This observation makes it unnecessary to amend ‫ רבים‬to ‫ערבים‬ in v. 2.91 In fact, Oppenheim has published a series of Akkadian texts that are usually related to siege conditions that support this conclusion. Two contain the specific statement: Take my small child (daughter) and keep (her) alive (bulluṭu)! She shall be your small child ([slave-]girl) Give me ? shekels of silver so that I may (have something to) eat (akālu)!92

While these comparative texts cannot be taken as a definitive argument for retaining the MT, the importance of children in both geographical settings suggests that a similar logic could develop in Yehud, thereby undercutting the need for emendation. So the state of affairs can be generally concluded to have been an extreme state of impoverishment brought on by the immediate cause of the food shortage and a number of structural issues. Extreme food shortage of the kind that could be thought to have led to selling one’s children also implies structural issues such as taxes and land tenure regulations that lead to the possibility of inadequate sustenance.93 The problem of paying the royal tax in silver could also have become a problem as a result of a poor harvest. Only the wealthy would have silver on hand regularly, while others would acquire silver after harvest.94 Jursa’s synthesis of the perspective of Babylonian farmers, similar to that of Wunsch above is helpful in understanding the ethos of these ancient farmers, which also suggest the crisis-like nature of the situation: As a rule, Babylonians were reluctant to alienate any part of their most valuable possessions, viz. agricultural land (gardens and fields), houses and prebends. Many of them did so only under conditions of distress. Nevertheless such possessions did change hands often, and, if one keeps the special case of prebends separate, without legal restrictions of any kind. In these important transactions, silver money was practically the only acceptable means of payment or,

91 Similarly, Loring W. Batten, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah, ICC 11 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1913), 238. 92 A. L. Oppenheim, “‘Siege-Documents’ from Nippur,” Iraq 17 (1955): 71. The texts date from Nabonidus into the Hellenistic Period. 93 See my discussion in “Feast and Famine,” esp. 150–52. 94 For further discussion, see my “Tithes for the Clergy and Taxes for the King,” 217– 19.

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if, e.g., the seller’s debts were set off against the purchase price, the standard of value.95 This supports the traditional interpretation that one would tend to hold on to land, if at all possible. This evidence points to the difficulty with Guillaume’s argument that there was no crisis behind the events of Neh 5:1–13. If comparable on this point, then the Babylonian evidence suggests that it was only a crisis of some sort that could cause the residents of Yehud to mortgage or otherwise give up their lands, though it could have happened with some regularity. Therefore, Guillaume should be followed in as far as he suggests abandoning the notion of an ongoing crisis that some strains of biblical scholarship portray as lasting from the eighth century to the end of the writing of biblical texts. Such a view, as Guillaume contends, appears quite untenable. However, the fact that the biblical texts do not cover every era or generation as completely – e.g. the silence from the completion of the Second Temple in ca. 515 BCE until the arrival of Nehemiah onto the scene more than half a century later – may indicate that it was quite often crises that gave rise to recording. Another possibility that hangs together with the verisimilitude of narrative texts, or even with prophetic pronouncements for that matter, is that the construction of a “narrative crisis” was used as a literary vehicle to address ongoing societal controversies. As such, the designation “crisis” is a misnomer, but controversies in society are of course perennial. The results of the poor harvest led to the choice of either going hungry (v. 3) or selling children into debt slavery (vv. 5–6). Nehemiah’s plan of action confronts the accused nobles and officials for their apparently predatory actions in the midst of a large assembly (v. 7). This context for the confrontation pressures them to identify with the assembled crowd, rather than acting against them. Nehemiah proposes that they – and he – abandon their claims in vv. 10–12 (literally, “this debt” (v. 10). However, much in line with Gross’ earlier argument, Guillaume contends: Repayment is deferred or the interest abandoned. By adding the demonstrative pronoun to maš š ā' (‫ )המשׁא הזה‬it is fairly clear that the relief measure is a one-off instance. Nehemiah proposes to stop the clock until the forthcoming grape, olive, and grain harvest so that the burden does not accrue during the famine.96

While Guillaume’s claim that it is a one-off measure is convincing, this does not mean that it is merely a deferral until after the harvest. First of all, based on the comparative (and logical) practice in Babylonia of the average farmers paying their taxes after the harvest, the setting of the confrontation is postharvest. If this is the case, then repayment would be deferred an entire year, which is unlikely especially because the daughters would already be pressed 95 96

Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 625. Guillaume, “Nehemiah 5,” 6.

8.2. Nehemiah 5:1–13: Lending and Judean Identity

269

into marriages by that time. Redeeming them would be highly unlikely at that point. Turning again to v. 10, Blenkinsopp argues (contra my position above), that Nehemiah was not admitting guilt, “On the contrary, he is saying that it is possible and necessary to do so without the abuses which they had come together to abolish.”97 The problem with Blenkinsopp’s understanding is that it does not fit with the problem in v. 7, where the elites were doing lending of a ‫נשׁא‬-type, and this appeared to be the issue. The LXX’s difficulty with this type of lending supports this formulation of the problem, leading to a different rendering for ‫ נשׁא‬here. I find the text-critical argument more compelling, even though this undoubtedly paints Nehemiah in a less than perfect light, as Mowinckel suggests.98 A further question is the relationship of the situation and decisions in Neh 5 with earlier biblical law texts. Mention often appears of the Deuteronomic call to brotherly treatment of fellow Israelites (Deut 15; Lev 25).99 The differences between Neh 5 and Lev 25 / Deut 15 suggest that Neh 5 at minimum chooses to go its own way in dealing with the issue of indebtedness. Through Reinmuth’s comparisons with Jer 34, Deut 15, and Lev 25, especially with the pentateuchal legal texts, the question arises of whether the events in Neh 5 intend to describe a one time, or short term remission of debt, or does this section mean to portray the ideal ongoing treatment of other Judeans. What results from this analysis is that Neh 5:1–13 intends to communicate the ongoing ethos for the treatment of one’s Judean “brother” in such a way that some lending may occur, just not that of the predatory (‫ )נשׁא‬type. In this sense, it does not necessarily have the legal ordinances of Deut 15 or Lev 25 in mind, but it does accord with their societal visions. Nehemiah’s actions are best understood in line with – though perhaps not as a genetic descendent of – the Old Babylonian debt release edicts. In this sense, Neh 5’s closest parallel may be the failed action (‫ )דרור‬that Jer 34:8 records, though Jer 34 includes significant material from the Pentateuch (esp. Jer 34:14). Thus, according to Neh 5:1–13, economic plays a key role in the development of the Judean identity in several regards. The Yehud community should avoid lending practices that lead to the subjugation of children, especially to foreigners. In fact, a clear dichotomy is set up between the “others,” “enemies,” and “foreigners” on the 97 Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 260; similarly, Gross, “Is There Any Interest in Nehemiah 5?,” 275–76. 98 This direction was suggested much earlier by Mowinckel, Studien II, 92–104 (esp. 100–103). 99 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 185; and especially Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 177:“An vorderster Stelle ist der Bruderbegriff (‫ )אח‬zu nenne der in Lev 25, Dtn 15, Jer 34 und Neh 5 eine tragende Rolle spielt.” It is important to note, however, that Reinmuth dates Lev 25 and the MT of Jer 34 after Neh 5, seeing Neh 5 and Deut 15 as dependent on the Covenant Code.

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one hand and the community led by Nehemiah on the others. The nobles and officials are the ones primarily in positions to cast their allegiance with Nehemiah’s community or his enemies: the choice takes shape in their financial decisions.

8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table 8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table

Nehemiah 5:14–19 describes Nehemiah’s gubernatorial table with various symbolically-laden markers. Yet scholarly discussion of the text generally focuses on the questions of Nehemiah’s governorship, and whether the previous governors were in Jerusalem and Judean, or rather in or under Samaria’s direction. The text-critical questions also take up much consideration. As a result, the table itself and its economic ramifications have not received adequate discussion. Nehemiah 5:14–19 portrays Nehemiah’s concern for “the people” by way of contrasting his table with those of the governors that had preceded him. Because the people (‫ )העם‬suffered under “heaviness” (‫ כבד‬as a stative verbal form), Nehemiah did not seek provisions from them, and he looks for God to remember his laudable deed. The chapter as a whole, connects, in my opinion only loosely and redactionally to the wall-building narrative found in chapters 4 and 6, especially through the redactional insertion of v. 16.100 Two essays pave the way for my discussion: Williamson’s “The Governors of Judah under the Persians” and Wright and Elliott-Hollman’s forthcoming encyclopedia entry “Society and Politics: Banquet and Gift Exchange.”101 These interpreters view Nehemiah’s feasting as mimetic of the imperial and satrapal tables, to use Wright’s category from an earlier essay.102 What does this mean, and how fitting is this conclusion? Are the same elements highlighted? Does it adequately reflect the economic concerns of the passage? My investigation of the nature of Nehemiah’s table will develop in the following steps:

100

sion.

Schunck, Nehemia, 164, likewise views v. 16 as later. See below for further discus-

101 Hugh G. M. Williamson, “The Governors of Judah under the Persians,” TynB 39 (1988): 59–82; Jacob L. Wright and Meredith Elliot Hollman, “Society and Politics: Banquet and Gift Exchange,” ed. Bruno Jacobs and Robert Rollinger, A Companion to the Achaemenid Persian Empire (Wiley-Blackwell, n.d.), http://www.academia.edu/839222/Society_ and_Politics_Banquet_and_Gift_Exchange_forthcoming_2012_in_A_Companion_to_the_ Achaemenid_Persian_Empire_Wiley-Blackwell_edited_by_Bruno_Jacobs_and_Robert_Ro llinger. 102 Jacob L. Wright, “Commensal Politics in Ancient Western Asia: The Background to Nehemiah’s Feasting,” ZAW 122 (2010): 348.

8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table

271

1. Text-critical, philological, and composition-critical observations on key feasting terms in Neh 5; 2. Persian sources; 3. Greek sources; and 4. A return to the text of Nehemiah, this time focusing on the economics of his table in relation to the ‫ מדת המלך‬in 5:4. 8.3.1 Philological, Text-Critical, and Composition-critical Observations Is the passage itself of one piece? How do the tax burden of provisions for the governor’s table fit into a compositional understanding of the book? These questions connect with each other in in significant ways. They relate to one’s view of two issues in particular – when Nehemiah becomes governor (both in terms of literary and historical development), and how this governorship and the connected social mandates relate to the building of the wall. Scholarship disagrees on the relationship between 5:1–13 and 14–19. If one views (like Williamson) vv. 1–13 as intrinsically related to the building of the wall, then vv. 14–19 must come from some later “Nehemiah Memoir.” If the social concerns of vv. 1–13 do not relate directly to the wall, then the entire section might arise from a different source or later redaction. The nature of Nehemiah’s “governorship” also takes on importance here. A well-known and long-standing debate exists over the identification of the “previous governors” (5:15). Were they governors of a Yehud province (i.e., Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel), or rather the governors of Samaria, to whose jurisdiction Yehud had belonged? Wright considers the references to Nehemiah as governor later redactional updates from a period when there were governors.103 On the literary level within the book of Ezra-Nehemiah, it seems more likely that Nehemiah (the literary figure) would criticize the governors found in Samaria.104 Yet this remains opaque within the content of Neh 5 itself, where Nehemiah criticizes Judeans leaders for their treatment of the Judean people (that is, for acting like foreigners). Williamson argues that 5:14–19 and much of ch. 13 were added in a second step to the Nehemiah Memoir quite a bit later than the wall-building account.105 While this theory accounts for much of the data, the fact that the material in

103 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 179. He argues: “The institution of governor – if it ever existed before Nehemiah – was not firmly established in Judah until after Nehemiah, and he himself did not serve in this capacity. ... one cannot preclude the possibility that authors in the fourth cent. (or later) have designated Nehemiah peḥah in 5:14ff. and made the changes to 2:1ff. (‘the house I shall enter’ in v. 8) with the intention of contrasting him with the contemporary governors.” 104 Gunneweg, Nehemia, 19,2:92. 105 Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xxviii.

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5:14–19 is separated quite far from the rest of the secondary material presents one difficulty.106 Wright’s synopsis suggests that vv. 16–18 arise first, followed by vv. 14–15 (which are, incidentally, followed by vv. 1–13). For him, vv. 14–15 belong to the layer of the “First notices which depict Nehemiah as governor.”107 This conclusion does not account, however, for the equation in v. 18 of Nehemiah’s not partaking of the ‫לחם פחה‬. How is Nehemiah’s abstaining significant, if he was not in fact the governor? Other explanations may be possible, but it does seem easiest to assume that Nehemiah was in fact the governor, but he did not indulge in his lawful privilege. Highlighting the important terms and concepts in the text that contribute to the feasting and economic thematic provide further insight, not least because of the significant textual difficulties involved. The first verse of the section, v. 14, I read as follows: Also, from [the] day when [he] commanded108 me to be governor109 in the land of Judea – from year 20 until year 32 of Artaxerxes the king, 12 years – I and my brothers did not eat the bread of the governor.

Several issues of import for my topic arise in this verse.110 First, of minor importance, is the writing of ‫ פחם‬instead of ‫ פחה‬for “governor,” which the LXX manuscripts generally read as “their governor”: i.e., Heb.: ‫פחתם‬. While my reading no doubt requires some justification, I simply note that the problem with the Greek is that there is no antecedent for “their.”111 The significance of this interpretation relates to the question of whether Nehemiah was governor over “all” the tiny province of Yehud, or merely of the Judeans of the province, more in line with the “Citizen-Temple Community” hypothesis proposed by Weinberg.112 I find it most plausible that Nehemiah served as governor over the whole sub-province, in part for reasons that become clear in the guest list of v. 17. 106

Cf. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 168. Ibid., 340. 108 Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 233; this follows Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia. They read ‫ צויתי < צואתי‬as a passive “I was appointed” from ‫צוא אתי‬. BHS lists one manuscript with this passive (pual), which irons out the difficulty. The text retains the same meaning and is understandable in both forms. 109 MT: peḥām. BHK: “1 MS V,S, peḥāh”; OG (B, A, L, εις αρχοντα αὐτων), which BHK suggests translating back as peḥātām. BHQ calls this a facilitation on stylistic grounds. 110 A previous version of this discussion appears in Altmann, “Tithes for the Clergy,” 220–22. 111 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 176–79 tries to solve this problem by suggesting a twostepped solution. First, he posits v. 14 as later; second, as originally following 4:15ff., where “the people” could serve as referent. But this redaction-critical layering does not really read well, with 5:14 (or originally v. 15) following chap. 4. 112 Weinberg, The Citizen-Temple Community. 107

8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table

273

More central to my discussion, however, is the final clause, which speaks of the “bread of the governor,” ‫לחם הפחה‬, a phrase that reappears in v. 18. In both cases Nehemiah rejects the “bread of the governor.” Both the MT and the LXX’s βια point to an underlying authoritative appropriation of goods – a tax – from the region by the governor.113 In v. 14 Nehemiah declares that he – and his entourage – did not eat it, while in v. 18 he did not seek it for his table. Conceptually, then, it is a tax in kind.114 While not openly identified as a tax like the ‫ מדת המלך‬in 5:4, it is only a short jump to the conclusion that the “bread of the governor” (‫ )לחם הפחה‬in 5:14 and 18 (and possibly v. 15) represents just such a burden; in fact, the LXX interprets rather freely – βιαν αυτων / αρτους της βιας (“an extortion from them” / “bread of extortion”).115 Several questions arise with regard to my topic in this text: (1) What did the “bread of the governor” – if one is to render the MT literally – consist of? (2) How did this obligation relate to the royal tax of 5:4? My first step investigates the text philologically and attempts to identify the nature of this “bread of the governor” according to the passage. This will overlap with and lead to composition-critical analysis. The second step compares it with similar concerns in ch. 13. These initial steps will allow me to synthesize the economic concepts at work in the text. There is both a relatively straightforward answer, on one hand, but then a rather involved discussion necessary for understanding ‫ לחם הפחה‬on the other. The basic answer, clear in light of comparative evidence, is that the ‫לחם הפחה‬ designated various duties in kind that the people were obligated to bring in order to provide for the regular alimentary requirements of the rulers. There are (at least) two biblical text that demonstrate this. First Kings 5:2–8 [ET: 4:22–28] details the provisions for Solomon’s imperial table. With regard to provisions for governors, Mal 1:8 uses the implied requirement to bring healthy animals for the governor’s table as an analogy for what worshipers should be bringing to Yahweh. This text is significant for its use of the title ‫פחה‬, just like in Neh 5.

113 The LXX’s βια does not offer a wooden rendering of ‫לחם הפחה‬. Cf. Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 248, who argues that the LXX must be reading a different source text, though there is continuity in this section between ‫ פחה‬and the Gk. βια. The only other option for what the LXX might have been reading from its Hebrew source text is ‫פרך‬, cf. Exod 1:13, 14, but this is still a bit of a stretch. 114 WOC, 147, comments that it is a genitive of advantage “the bread due the governor.” 115 LXX follows this line of interpretation in the following verse (v. 15) and renders ‫ והפחות הראשׁנים‬with και τας βιας τας πρωτας. The meaning thus develops a bit differently as a result. 115 I.e., Kellermann, Nehemia, 39.

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8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

Mal 1:8 (NRSV) ‫וכי־תגשׁון עור לזבח‬ ‫אין רע‬ ‫וכי תגישׁו פסח וחלה‬ ‫אין רע‬ ‫הקריבהו נא לפחתך‬ ‫הירצך או הישׂא פניך‬ ‫אמר יהוה צבאות׃‬

When you offer blind animals in sacrifice, is that not wrong? And when you offer those that are lame or sick, is that not wrong? Try presenting that to your governor; will he be pleased with you or show you favor? says the LORD of hosts.

Malachi implies that the bread of the governor represents his salary.116 If this was his entire salary, then Nehemiah receives no governmental stipend for his twelve years as governor, indicating he had other income or personal wealth large enough to provide for quite an extended household. It is also possible that Nehemiah had various holdings throughout the Persian Empire, a practice known for satraps such as Arsames (who is mentioned in the Elephantine texts). Regardless of just how Neh 5 imagines Nehemiah’s household sustaining itself and putting on hospitality banquets during these years, what is important in terms of the focus of the text for my discussion is the economic empathy. Nehemiah, much like the depiction in the first half of the chapter, chooses to identify with his subjects. It is not the feast – the act of eating and drinking together – that is underlined. In terms of the section’s structure, these statements about the ‫לחם הפחה‬, as well as the notes on the burdened nature of the people (vv. 15, 18), form loose thematic brackets for Nehemiah’s explication of his table. More pressing are the textual issues in v. 15, which I translate – with emendations – as follows: But the former governors that [were] before me made heavy (hiphil perf.) upon the people.117 And they took from them “in”118 bread for one day,119 [the equivalent of] 40 shekels of silver. Also, their attendants lorded it over the people. But I did not do this out of fear of God.

116

Williamson, “The Governors of Judah under the Persians,” 80–82. “One made the governors heavy upon the people” according to the LXX. The issue here is the lack of a direct object for the hiphil of ‫כבד‬, which some early rabbinic exegesis interprets to mean that the governors themselves are the weight the people must carry. Another proposal is “the former governors made a yoke heavy.” This solution proposes the loss of ‫עֹל‬, suggested most recently by Schunck, Nehemia, 159; apud Schunck: Paul Joüon, “Notes philologiques sur le texte hébreu d’Esdras et de Néhémie,” Bib 12 (1931): 87. Joüon points to 1 Kgs 12:10, 14 as parallels. 118 ‫ בלחם‬could be “as the cost of” (Arnold and Choi, A Guide to Biblical Hebrew Syntax, 106), but this seems backwards. More likely would be 40 shekels worth of bread (and other provisions). 119 BDB 29 2.c: “strangely: Ew RV besides; but text prob. corrupt, v. Be [E. Bertheau ]Ry. [V. Ryssel]” Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 234, sees the text as corrupt and changes ‫ויין‬ ‫ אחר‬to ‫ויום אחד‬. To support this emendation, he states “‫‘ יין‬wine’ should not be singled out 117

8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table

275

Bypassing the question of who these former ‫“( פחות‬governors”) happened to be (that is, were they Samarian or Judean), an issue that has exercised scholars from Albrecht Alt to Hugh Williamson,120 – and several other textual difficulties, I might add – a different issue arises in terms of the economics of the table and the meal: How does one understand the statement that they “took + ‘‫’ב‬ bread (and wine ‫ אחר‬40 silver shekels)”? The contrast with actions of these earlier governors121 in v. 15 is unclear because the text is garbled. Clear however, especially when brought into conversation with v. 18, is the notion of “heaviness” (‫)כבד‬. Who or what exactly is heavy remains uncertain, however. One might suggest a literal aspect of “heaviness” here as well as a metaphorical one. If the ‫ לחם הפחה‬parallels the Persian king’s table, then the tax could have involved something of a transport corvée, which required the peasants to transport physically their agricultural goods to where the king or governor consumed and distributed them.122 As Joüon noticed – and followed by many others –‫ אחר‬makes little sense in the context.123 The syntax of the preposition ‫ ב‬is also problematic. On the ‫ב‬, Dictionary of Classical Hebrew interprets ‫ בלחם‬here as a partitive ‫( ב‬i.e., “some of”), or else emendating to ‫ו לֶחֶ ם‬i ְ‫“ ב‬gift of bread and wine.”124 But in Akkadian the parallel term biltu appears quite rarely on its own, and there is only one reasonably secure occurrence in Off. Aram. as ‫( בלתו‬his payment, reward?), making this emendation hard to evaluate in lieu of the lack of evidence.125

for particular mention.” I wonder if this misses the mention of some kind of feasting? He then takes the ‫ ב‬as some kind of ‫ ב‬pretii and translates (ibid. 232) “and exacted from them for their daily ration forty shekels” (see my comments in the preceding footnote). The lack of silver in Yehud and the collection of wine, oil, and mead by the governor at Ramat Rahel render Williamson’s interpretation unlikely. The explanation by J. Kabiersch in “2.Esdras” in Septuagint Deutsch: Erläuterungen und Kommentare I:1236 is: “einen äußerst hohen Preis/ἔσχατον ἀρύριον: Die LXX verstand MT ‫ אחר כסף‬wörtlich. ‘hinterest (äußerstes) Silber.’” 120 Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 159; rejected by Williamson, “The Governors of Judah under the Persians,” 76–77. 121 Following the MT, rather than the earlier “extortions” (τας βιας τας πρωτας) in the LXX. 122 Gauthier Tolini, “Les ressources de la babylonie et la table de Darius le Grand (522– 486),” in Le banquet du monarque dans le monde antique, ed. C. Grandjean, C. Hugoniot, and B. Lion, Table des hommes (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2013), 146. 123 It should be noted, however, that many modern translations – English and German – all manage, rendering ‫ אחר‬to mean something like “besides or dazu” (cf. NRSV, NJPS, ZurB, LUT). 124 DCH 4:571 125 IduOstr.2.81.2, acc. to CAL, which renders as “tribute.”

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Schunck understands it as a bet pretii (following Williamson), and emends the text to render it, “took from them for their daily needs 40 shekels.”126 This understanding seems to imply a significant amount of silver shekels in use, an unlikely situation in poor Yehud until at least half a century after Nehemiah. This reading also depends on several emendations. Following Joüon, I argues that the text originally read ‫ליום אחד‬, rather than ‫ויין אחר‬, which makes more sense when interpreted to mean “for daily” (provisions) like v. 18.127 This is certainly not the lectio difficilior, but the fact that the LXX simply translates the Hebrew ‫ אחר‬into εσχατον, which does not make sense syntactically in the Greek, suggests that corruption took place before the translation from Hebrew to Greek. If this is the case, then the “bread,” that is “the bread of the governor” becomes a general term, as expected, for the provisions for the governor’s table. Still following the emendation, I instead understand the ‫ ב‬to mean “in daily” (provisions) like v. 18. The “bread” concerns the provisions for the governor’s table. In v. 15, the value of the table is quantified in terms of its silver value – 40 shekels. Later on, in v. 18, the text displays the value of the provisions for one day as the portions of meat (one ox, six sheep, and birds) and wine.128 Bringing these two verses together, it appears best to read the ‫ ב‬as a bet of specification, or possibly as equivalence in v. 15. This leads to the following interpretation: the 40 silver shekels specify the value of taxes-in-kind appropriated: “They took from them in129 daily provisions the equivalent of 40 silver shekels.” The economic aspects of consumption come to the fore. Skipping forward, v. 17, a nominal clause, reads – And the Judeans and prefects – 150 men – (and) the ones entering to us from the nations that surrounded us [were] at my table. This verse provides details on the guests in terms of their ethnicity, official status, number, and geographical location. It goes on to place them all at Nehemiah’s ‫שׁלחן‬. There is considerable disagreement surrounding 126 Schunck, Nehemia, 158–59, translation of his German is my own. He refers to Gen 29:18: ‫ויאהב יעקב את־רחל ויאמר אעבדך שׁבע שׁנים ברחל בתך הקטנה‬. According to DCH 4:571, the only occurrences of beth pretii with ‫ לקח‬occur in 1 Kgs 10:28//2 Chr 1:16 (and 11QT 43:14). 127 Joüon, “Notes philologiques,” 87. This widely accepted emendation is rejected by Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 119. His basis is that the LXX translates from the MT as we have it. However, this only means that the textual corruption would have taken place prior to the translation into Greek. 128 The meaning of the MT’s ‫ ובין עשׂרת ימים בכל יין להרבה‬remains insufficiently understood. 129 Or, “in the form of the daily provisions.” The nearer specification or identification of the 40 shekels by the daily provisions is similar to the general category and further specification (though of more than one entity) in Gen 8:17; Hos 4:3. Surprisingly, Neh 5:15 is not discussed by Ernst Jenni, Die Präposition Beth, Die hebräischen Präpositionen 1 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1992).

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these identifying terms. Do they represent three separate groups – Judeans, prefects, and those entering from the surrounding peoples? The term ‫ והסגנים‬could also be epexegetical, delimiting the category of Judeans and thus meaning “the Judean prefects.” However, the usage in Neh 2:16 of prefects – as one category along with the Judeans, priests, nobles, and the remainder – suggests otherwise. The third category could also mean either non-Judeans, or perhaps Judeans entering from surrounding regions. The latter would perhaps imply those bringing contributions to the Jerusalem Temple. Most interpreters, however, understand it to mean the official imperial visitors.130 The evidence in the book of Nehemiah points to a different connotation. These latter two terms often designate forces opposing Nehemiah. He chastises the officials or prefects (‫ )הסגנים‬in the previous section, in 5:7, along with the nobles (‫)החרים‬, for their role in the economic conflict surrounding their indebted compatriots.131 Neither do the surrounding nations come off that positively in the book. Sanballat and company could fit in this category, for example. Attempts to understand the nature of the guest list require outside information – that is, a hermeneutical lens of some sort. The text seems either to assume that the audience will know whether only “friends” or also “enemies” might expect find their names included. The Greek sources will also provide an insightful angle on this below. What is clear from this verse is that social aspects of eating enter the picture. The economic features recede into the background. And, especially if the guests are adversaries, the table represents a means to turn enemies into friends – or at least into debtors for the hospitality they receive.132 Another question arising is whether the table is simply the physical “table” or location, so that all these 150 guests physically eat together. One might also posit some kind of metaphorical designation, meaning that Nehemiah provides the provisions in a more indirect manner from his budget. An answer to this question will come from the comparative sources below. Finally, the richness of this “table” is put on display in v. 18: “And that which was done for each day: one bull, six fattened (‫)בררות‬133 sheep, and

130

Schunck, Nehemia; Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase, 24. ‫סגנים‬: 2:16 (negative); 4:8, 13 (positive); 5:7 (negative); 12:40 (positive); 13:11 (negative). See also Ezra 9:2 (negative). Surrounding nations: Neh 6:16 (‫)כל־הגוים אשׁר סביבתינו‬, which is quite close to ‫ הגוים אשׁר סביבתינו‬in 5:17, and used specifically for their enemies (cf. Deut 17:14 for a similar phrase). 132 Marcel Mauss’s classic analysis on the need to receive and reciprocate the gift provides insight here; see especially Marcel Mauss, Die Gabe: Form und Funktion des Austauschs in archaischen Gesellschaften, 3rd ed. (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1984), 91–103. 133 LXX: εκλεκτα (“chosen or select”). 131

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birds134 were prepared for me. And [at] an interval of ten days135 much136 of every wine.”137 The primary textual challenge here concerns the meaning of the final phrase, ‫ימים בכל יין להרבי ובין עשׂרת‬, for which I will not discuss here, except to note that the force of the context indicates a considerable amount. The beginning of the subsequent clause, ‫ועם זה‬, literally “and with this” also presents challenges. It usually indicates addition, though also “but in spite of this,” which fits the context more adequately.138 As a result, v. 18 ends the description by emphasizing Nehemiah’s own financial cost in providing food, even for those foreigners from the surrounding region. As v. 19 states, God should remember Nehemiah’s financial outlay on behalf of the Yehud community. Taking stock of the ground covered so far, my reading of the passage emphasizes (1.) Nehemiah’s solidarity with “the people” in his economic decisions as provincial authority and (2.) his attempt to firm up his authority by causing others to become receivers from his table. Nehemiah conducts himself in a manner that puts community thriving above his financial opulence. The Greek ethical writings of Aristotle and Xenophon would be proud. 8.3.2. The View from Persepolis In the broader literature and iconography of the region, earlier festive texts are found at the Neo-Assyrian table and beyond, as Wright has investigated with regard to this passage.139 My analysis here zeroes in on more contemporary sources.140 The Classical portrayals of the Persian table are also well known, and I will turn to them later; this section focuses on what arises from the Persepolis texts and other data of the Persian Empire itself. 134 LXX χιµαρον normally translates ‫שׂעיר‬, but it also is found in 2 Chr 29:21; and 2 Esdras 6:17; 8:35 for ‫צפיר‬. This is a visual mistake. 135 This follows Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 234. He is following Ludwig Köhler, “Hebräische Vokabeln III,” ZAW 58 (1940–41), 229. 136 ‫להרבה‬: The translation as an adjective follows Williamson, but is a bit difficult with the preposition. 137 WOC, 199–200 call this use of ‫“ בין‬An exceptional distributive sense – in one late text” and render it “every ten days.” Perhaps the inf. const. ‫ להרבה‬constitutes a result clause “to make abundant,” which would then suggest: “And what was being prepared for each day…to make abundant” (i.e., for there to be abundance). 138 Following NJPS and NRSV. The LXX offers a literal translation: και συν τουτοις. The German renderings are ambivalent, ZurB: “und dennoch” and LUT: “Dennoch.” 139 Wright, “Commensal Politics in Ancient Western Asia.” See also Altmann, Festive Meals in Ancient Israel, 72–106. 140 Cf. David M. Lewis, “The King’s Dinner (Polyaenus IV 3,32),” in The Greek Sources: Proceedings of the Groningen 1984 Achaemenid History Workshop, ed. Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg and Amélie Kuhrt, Achaemenid history 2 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 1987), 79–90; Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 177–78.

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Several key aspects from the Persian material help illuminate Neh 5. Among them are the meaning of “the table” (cf. Neh 5:17) and the related question of the provisions for the meal. This aspect of economic appropriation is central for the appearance of the royal table in the Persepolis archives. Otherwise, associations with feasts or meals appear infrequently in Persian written sources such as the Persian monumental inscriptions. First, in a quick note on the iconography, the Apadana, which displays various ethnicities bringing their gifts to the Persian king, hints at the centrality of the metaphor of the royal table as a powerful symbol for Persian hegemony, as Sancisi-Weerdenburg remarks: The palace-reliefs of Persepolis provide a clear demonstration of the fact that the Royal Table was regarded as of great ceremonial importance. ... What matters here is that it was regarded as so important that it merited a large and central place in the iconographic representation of Achaemenid kingship.141

What appears, however, is not communal feasting, but the bringing of gifts or tribute. And the uni-directionality of the gift movement carries over to what one can glean from the Persepolis Fortification Tablets about the royal table, or tables, where the royal table was only a recipient from the Persepolis economy. Henkelman, who provides the essential analysis of food provisions in the Persepolis archives, comments: … redistribution, however, was apparently of no concern to the scribes of the Fortification archive and the regional administration associated with it. In other words: the court clearly travelled with its own administrative and bureaucratic apparatus, which was responsible, among other duties, for the institution that we know as the royal table.142

This citation indicates that the information provided by the PFT should not, as should easily be accepted, be understood as telling the whole story on the Royal Table. The Imperial Royal Table itself existed as a distinct institution from the Persepolis economy recorded in the Fortification and the Treasury archives. The description of the king’s table cannot be derived solely from the Persepolis archives; however, what does appear there are economic disbursements. A second conclusion from the PFT material is that the king was clearly not the only one with his “table,” so to speak, within the Persian royalty. This honor extended to Irdabama, who was Cambyses’ sister and later became Darius’

141 Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg, “Gifts in the Persian Empire,” in Le tribut dans l’Empire perse: actes de la table ronde de Paris, 12-13 décembre 1986, ed. P. Briant and C. Herrenschmidt, Travaux de l’Institut d’etudes iraniennes de l’Université de la Sorbonne nouvelle 13 (Paris: Peeters, 1989), 133. She continues, “The reliefs contain no references to the items that were distributed by the kings: as everywhere in Persepolis, the movement is towards the king. The Greek sources, however, can complement the lack of information of the reliefs in this respect.” 142 Henkelman, “Consumed before the King,” 674.

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wife, Irtaštuna (Greek Artystone), and to a satrap as well.143 Furthermore, Irtaštuna’s son remained present at her table into maturity, establishing that the table functioned as a key symbolic location for the negotiation of economic and social benefits. Finally, Henkelman reports astonishing provisions that are accorded to these royal personages from individual texts: 1,224 head of sheep / goats (PF 0696), 126,100 qts. of flour (PF 0701), 1,000,044 head of poultry (PF 2034), 5,000 qts. of karukur fruit (NN 0923), and 12,000,350 qts. of wine.144

No time spans appear in connection with these eye-popping amounts, which does make it more difficult to compare them directly with Neh 5, though it has been argued that they are annual totals.145 Yet, as with the king’s table, these royal personages did not remain in Persepolis for the entire year. Elsewhere they appear to have had other resources beyond the Persepolis economy to draw from, so these allotments do not give the entire amount of their annual provisions.146 More comparable at least in terms of the temporal increments for the rations are those of the top official from Persepolis, Parnakka, who was in charge of the entire administration between 506 and 497 BCE. He received 2 sheep, 90 liters of wine, and 180 liters of flour per day.147 Yet there were some special celebrations, such as the šip celebration that were far larger. This šip festival appears to have been the royal feast par excellence, so it does not indicate daily table celebrations.148 While a long ways in terms of geography and far superior in terms of imperial importance from Yehud, Parnakka’s daily rations did not 143

Karkiš (satrap in Kurmana). Henkelman, “Consumed before the King,” 679. The previous statement is continued as follows: “Even though one should beware of hasty conclusions on royal feasting and lavish banquets, the amounts consumed and poured ‘before the king’ (and Irtaštuma and Irdabama) are definitely considerable.” 145 Ibid., 678. 146 Ibid., 731. He concludes: “the court drew upon the resources of the Persepolis economy at large, but it also had other sources of income, including the ukpiyataš/upiyāta tax.” Cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 425. 147 Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 425. He was brother of Hystaspes, paternal uncle of Darius I. 148 Wouter F. M. Henkelman, “Parnakka’s Feast: Šip in Pārsa and Elam,” in Elam and Persia, ed. J. Álvarez-Mon and M. B. Garrison (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 109. He notes, “An eye-catching characteristic of šip is the number of animals slaughtered during its celebration. In six out of nine texts on šip, animals are slaughtered: 47 head (and two portions) or sheep/goats, at least 2 head of cattle, and at least 20 ducks(?). Only lan (148 sheep/goats in 2 out of 81 texts) and bašur are comparable.” Henkelmann (ibid., 108) does consider the possibility that the feast could represent the king’s presence in Fars in the November/December time of year, in keeping with Athenaeus XII.513f. The fact that Parnakka and Ziššawiš seem to act on the king’s behalf in performing the šip militates against this conclusion, however. 144

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equal what Nehemiah provided for his household and hospitality. The book of Nehemiah certainly portrays the governor’s expenditures as immense. A further question already hinted at above is how literal versus how metaphorical the “table” might be? Need one imagine that these “guests” at the governor’s table were physically present? While it would seem odd for there not to be a literal “table” or communal dining arrangement, physical presence does not seem to have been required. The decisive insight comes from a text dealing with the Persian king’s horses. These beasts also receive goods from the royal table. However, unlike Incitatus, the favored horse of the Roman Emperor Caligula, which even invited its own guests to feasts, there is no evidence that the Persian horses were physically present at the royal banquet.149 Thus, something like the general locality is more appropriate. Henkelman notes Food and drinks prepared for the royal dinner not only fed the king, his family and his immediate entourage, but was also redistributed, via the king’s table, to courtiers, personnel and, notably, the king’s guard, who dined at a different location (Heraclides), but within the king’s vicinity or ‘before the king’ as the Persepolis scribes would say.150

The “table” is, therefore, an institution with a spatial center of gravity, but it does not necessarily imply communal, simultaneous consumption.151 It is intriguing, however, that five of the places that Henkelman is able to connect with consumption “before the king” are known to have had or been a “paradise.”152 By way of analogy, one might suggest that Nehemiah’s “table” may have been centered in the one similar location known in Yehud – Ramat Rahel – with its paradisiacal garden. There are several key differences between the known Persian material and Nehemiah. Unlike Neh 5:17, the Persepolis material does not provide a guest list. However, given the nature of the material – administrative records for a regional economy – this should not be expected. A more important difference is the centrality of the cup in Persian feasting. This conclusion arises from the combination of archaeological and iconographic data. Archaeological investigations of numerous regional satrapal centers have bequeathed treasures in the form of drinking vessels. Likewise, cups feature prominently in the gifts brought in the Apadana depictions. Recent

149

Cf. Henkelman, “Consumed before the King,” 684, who mentions PF 0708, NN 0906, PF 0720, NN 0857 among others. Suitonius, Lives of the Twelve Caesars, Life of Caligula 55 (ca. 121 C.E.); Dio Cassius, Roman History, LIX. 14. 150 Ibid., 685. 151 Ibid., 732. He states: “… the tibba texts do not necessarily imply feasting, but they do imply the presence of the king (or Irdabama, Irtaštuna or Karkiš).” 152 Ibid., 727. He states: “The places are: Akkuban, Appištan, Kabaš, Nupištaš and Tikranuš. Since the list of plantations and the list of places visited by the king are both necessarily incomplete, these five cases probably represent only the tip of the iceberg.”

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scholarship has highlighted the importance of these cups as carriers of symbolic value: the Persian king would gift cups of various value – gold, silver, etc. – that then suggested the relative importance of the bearer.153 Such thinking does not resound with Neh 5 at all. No specific vessels appear, and the consumption of wine in v. 18, while suggesting significant amounts, does not occupy the text’s spotlight.154 One possible way to interpret this difference is that the Nehemiah text focuses more on matters that are economically quantifiable as of high value, rather than those, like the Persian gifted cup, whose value was more directly symbolic. Looking back over this section, like the Persepolis records, Neh 5 focuses on economic features of the table, and, though Nehemiah also discusses distribution, it keeps its attention – in contrast with other biblical feasting depictions – on the cost of the table for the subjects. In both Neh 5 and the Persepolis corpora, the amounts of the provisions are stupendous, though Nehemiah is certainly on a much smaller scale than the Imperial Royal Table. The ingredients are similar, but Nehemiah reduces the list to two key elements, meat and wine, and drinking plays little role in Nehemiah, in contrast to some Persian archaeological finds. 8.3.3. Greek Views of Persian Feasting Much of the color attributed to Persian feasting in general lore comes not from the internal depictions from the Persian Empire itself, but from the portrayals of their sometimes enemies, sometimes allies, future conquerors, and eternal competitors – the Greeks. The perennial question is how much can one trust these external and sometimes much later texts? That is, how much of these narratives reflect Greek attempts to display their superiority over their Persian counterparts? And, how trustworthy are sources such as Athenaeus, collecting sources around 200 CE, or Polyaenus, several decades earlier, who are also at a considerable historical distance from the Persian Empire.

153 Erich Kistler, “Achämenidische Becher und die Logik kommensaler Politik im Reich der Achämeniden,” in Der Achämenidenhof: Akten des 2. internationalen Kolloquiums zum Thema “Vorderasien im Spannungsfeld klassischer und altorientalischer Überlieferungen”, Landgut Castelen bei Basel, 23.-25. Mai 2007, ed. B. Jacobs and R. Rollinger, Classica et orientalia 2 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2010), 411–57; Margaret C. Miller, “Luxury Toreutic in the Western Satrapies: Court-Inspired Gift-Exchange Diffusion,” in Der Achämenidenhof, 453–97. 154 This can be contrasted with the drinking vessels in 2 Chr 9:20.

8.3. Nehemiah 5:14–19: The Economics of Nehemiah’s Table

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There seems to be little question of Greek knowledge of Persian practices.155 Furthermore, recent scholarship, after a period of intense focus on the Persian sources themselves, places increased confidence in the Greek sources.156 A key difference in the Greek versus internal perspectives, however, lies in the value of the feasts and redistributions of the royal table(s). A number of Greek texts articulate the political influence of the table, a shadowy dynamic that is not as explicit from the internal sources. Several of these Greek texts have significant bearing on Neh 5 in their attention to this aspect. 1. Herodotus (5.23–24), contemporary with Nehemiah, reports on the emergence of a political challenge for King Darius (I) in Hellespont by one Histiaeus the Milesian, who was fortifying a city in the region of Thrace. Megabazus, Darius’ general, notifies Darius of the threat and went on to suggest that the best solution to the issue was to invite Histiaeus to join Darius’ royal table as an advisor. This depicts an exquisite example of the saying, “keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Bringing someone to the table functions to bind them to the host by causing them to take up a position of (symbolic) dependence. 2. Xenophon, writing in the first half of the fourth century BCE, fortifies his portrayal of Cyrus the Great as a wise ruler by explicating his wisdom in the sharing of his meals, or at least the foods from his table, with servants and subjects far and wide (Cyr. 8.2.2–4) … He seems to us to have recognized from the start that there is no kindness which men can show one another, with the same amount of expenditure, more acceptable than sharing meat and drink with them. In this belief, he first of all arranged that there should be placed upon his own table a quantity of food, like that of which he himself regularly partook, sufficient for a very large number of people; and all of that which was served to him, except what he and his companions at table consumed, he distributed among those of his friends to whom he wished to send remembrances or good wishes. …And he used to send such presents around to those also whose services on garrison duty or in attendance upon him or in any other way met with his approval; in this way he let them see that he did not fail to observe their wish to please him. … He had all of his servants’ food served from his own table, for he thought that this would implant in them a certain amount of good-will, just as it does in dogs.157

While perhaps not an authentic portrayal of Cyrus, the Great, its perspective of the distribution to servants and soldiers from the royal table supports the interpretation of royal tables above, agreeing also with the narrative in Herodotus

155

There may be some question, though, of which reign or period of the Persian Empire that some sources reflect. 156 Kistler, “Achämenidische Becher und die Logik kommensaler Politik im Reich der Achämeniden,” 417. Cf. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 286–88 157 Cf. Cyr. 8.2.2–4; cf. 8.2.7: “Accordingly, Cyrus far surpassed all others in the art of making much of his friends by gifts of food.”

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7.119.158 The logic of gift distribution binds servants and companions to the king, making such actions a worthwhile expense. It is possible to extrapolate from this comparison for Nehemiah. Perhaps setting the value in Neh 5:15 at 40 silver shekels hints at Nehemiah’s wisdom in a similar fashion. 3. Finally, in terms of the actual foodstuffs, Polyaenus’ description details a considerable amount of grain, followed by various goats and sheep, cattle, horses, numerous types of birds, milk products, vegetables, fruit, oil, etc.159 Athenaeus similarly focuses heavily on the meat available, generally covering the same animals. Additional distributions for soldiers list grain, oil, vinegar, and service animals.160 He states such meals were to feed 15,000 per day. 161 The numbers are astronomical. 8.3.4. Nehemiah’s Feasting – The Economics of Distribution Within the biblical traditions, Nehemiah’s table has been brought into connection with Solomon’s in 1 Kgs 5:2–3 [ET: 4:22–23]: “Solomon’s provision for one day was thirty cors of choice flour, and sixty cors of meal, ten fat oxen, and twenty pasture-fed cattle, one hundred sheep, besides deer, gazelles, roebucks, and fatted fowl.” This list is strikingly similar to the Greek depictions of the Persian royal table.162 158

Herodotus, Hist., 7.118–20 reads as follows: … Antipatrus son of Orgeus, as notable a man as any of his townsmen, chosen by them for this task, rendered them an account of four hundred silver talents expended on the dinner [of King Xerxes]. Similar accounts were returned by the officers in the other towns. Now the dinner, about which a great deal of fuss had been made and for the preparation of which orders had been given long ago, proceeded as I will tell. As soon as the townsmen had word from the herald’s proclamation, they divided corn among themselves in their cities and all of them for many months ground it to wheat and barley meal; moreover, they fed the finest beasts that money could buy, and kept landfowl and waterfowl in cages and ponds, for the entertaining of the army. They also made gold and silver cups and bowls and all manner of service for the table. These things were provided for the king himself and those that ate with him. For the rest of the army they provided only food. At the coming of the army, there was always a tent ready for Xerxes to take his rest in, while the men camped out in the open air. When the hour came for dinner, the real trouble for the hosts began. When they had eaten their fill and passed the night there, the army tore down the tent on the next day and marched off with all the movables, leaving nothing but carrying all with them. 159 Stratagems, 4.3.32. This list is judged by Briant and Lewis to be the best representation of the Persian royal table: Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander, 286–88; Lewis, “The King’s Dinner (Polyaenus IV 3,32).” 160 4.145e. 161 Ibid., 4.146c. 162 In comparison, it is intriguing that Chronicles (2 Chr 9:20) highlights the expensive nature of Solomon’s drinking vessels. This emphasis keeps with the important symbolic value of drinking vessels during the Persian period because of their connection to the imperial ruler.

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While not quite in the same league, Nehemiah’s table also pushes in the direction of grand proportions, and the text from Xenophon above provides an insightful explanation of this logic. In terms of economic analysis, the “forty shekels” in 5:15 equals the exchange value of the earlier governor’s personal tax income. I find its appearance rather surprising, given the minimal evidence of trade in fifth century Yehud, even though trade flourished in the coastal regions dominated by the Phoenicians. Neither does Yehud coinage emerge until the fourth century. These observations lead me to suggest that the statement of value in shekels of silver stems either from this later time, or, if from Nehemiah himself, is a way of thinking that he brings with him from outside – from Susa, the Phoenician dominated Shephelah and coast with which Nehemiah, as governor would have some interaction, or from the Jewish communities in Babylonia that were active as merchants.163 The text provides us with little indication of the number of guests fed at these earlier governors’ tables. However, both Nehemiah’s 150 guests and the amount of forty shekels allow for a measure of extrapolation. While coming up with any numbers on inflation, deflation, or economic growth for this period is incredibly difficult due to the lack of data, it might be possible to provide a general conception of what could be purchased with forty shekels.164 One example that indicates the tenuous nature of my attempt is the observation that wages were apparently up to even 10 shekels per month during the reign of Darius, though they were back down to 2 shekels per month, the levels known from the Neo-Babylonian Empire, in the early fourth century in Mesopotamia.165 Nonetheless, in terms of prices, the PTT (ca. 500 BCE) provide some prices in a shekel 20% lighter than the shekels known from Yehud.166 In these prices the expenses for Nehemiah’s feast – had it taken place in Persepolis – would have been: 163

Williamson, “The Governors of Judah under the Persians,” 80–81. He states “In the treasury texts, which are the later of the two collections and which stop only shortly before Nehemiah's ministry, we have records of cash payments in lieu of part of the regular payment in kind. This may well help clarify the textually obscure first half of v. 15, rendered in RSV as ‘The former governors who were before me laid heavy burdens upon the people, and took from them food and wine, besides forty shekels of silver’.” 164 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 298, concludes that a century earlier, during the reign of Nabonidus, the requirements for an urban Babylonian household at 22 – Babylonian – shekels per year, though the Babylonian shekel was apparently 8.6g, while in Yehud it was 10.8g; Tal, “Coin Denominations and Weight Standards in FourthCentury BCE Palestine.” 165 Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 678. 166 PTT 13, 15–16, 18–19, 26–27: Cameron, Persepolis Treasury Tablets, 37. A shekel was 8.3g according to Cameron.

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8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics 6 sheep = 18 shekels 1 head of cattle = 30 shekels birds = unknown? wine = 1 shekel per jug

− − − −

Perhaps the price of providing for the table for one day in v. 18 could be put at 60 Persian shekels, which would be approximately 48 Yehud shekels. While slightly more than the 40 shekels in v. 15, it seems to still be within striking range. The description of Nehemiah’s table in v. 18, while not as lavish as Solomon’s or the Persian King’s, is quite rich – richer even than Parnakka’s daily rations.167 Batten, in his commentary from a century ago, reckoned with 600– 800 servings, assuming that there were side dishes as well.168 A single cow could provide roughly 1,000 servings (while this of course depends on the age, gender, etc.), agreeing also with Henkelman’s analysis for Persepolis with servings of 7-8 oz., that is around 200–250g each. Six sheep provide around 440 servings.169 There is little doubt that the amounts are incredibly large for poor, sparsely populated mid-fifth century Yehud. As Wright exclaims: “Nehemiah’s yearly rations would have sufficed for the meat consumption of the whole province!”170 Yet this may be, to some degree, precisely the point. Nehemiah becomes the economic benefactor, making sure that the entire Yehud community receives adequate provision, thus binding them to one another, to him, and to his deity. Finally, this discussion underscores the prominent place accorded to meat consumption.171 Throughout the ancient period, meat is an anomaly in the diet of peasants, and this is also the case in the ration records from Persepolis.172 167

Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 178, posits a literary relationship with Solomon’s table in 1 Kgs 5:2–3. 168 Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 246–47. This was the only attempt at quantification I could find in secondary literature. 169 Henkelman, “Parnakka’s Feast: Šip in Pārsa and Elam,” 106. His analysis is of NN 2259 for caprovids and NN 1731 for cattle, and I am adopting the conservative numbers. 170 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 177. 171 This keeps with much of the feasting traditions through the ancient Near East; cf. Altmann, Festive Meals in Ancient Israel, 72–106; Carol Meyers, “Menu: Royal Repasts and Social Class in Biblical Israel,” in Feasting in the Archaeology and Tests of the Bible and the Ancient Near East, ed. P. Altmann and J. Fu (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014), 129–47. 172 Henkelman, “Animal Sacrifice and ‘External’ Exchange in the Persepolis Fortification Tablets,” 158. He states: “Livestock and meat portions were distributed within the Persepolis economy, but only on a limited scale. Most beneficiaries were high-ranking officials such as Parnakka, who received two head of sheep/goats a day (e.g. PF 654), special individuals such as a goldsmith … or royal women (e.g. PF 823). Officials belonging to what could be called the administration’s ‘middle management’ and (specialist) workgroups sometimes received meat portions. Ten out of twelve texts documenting the allocation of

8.4. Nehemiah 13:4–14: The Economics of Temple Affiliation

287

So what conclusions can be drawn from my analysis? That is, what kind of a feast does Nehemiah put on? First and most obvious, his table places economic ramifications front and center. This conclusion arises from the combination of the “heaviness” (‫ )כבד‬on the people and the nature of the “governor’s bread” as a tax. Furthermore, if my text-critical and philological analysis can be followed, the price given to the daily provisions indicates that Nehemiah takes this heavy burden upon himself by refusing to ask the people to supply his table. Secondly, the text depicts Nehemiah using his own wealth in order to bring together diverse and even antagonistic factions. It shows him solidifying his authority, and the acceptance thereof, by ingratiating other powerful figures within Yehud and the surrounding region through his extravagant provisions of the festive meal of meat and wine. The provisions list – while abbreviated – emphasizes the richness of a table in the heart of an impoverished province; it is food for the imagination. In conclusion, in what way is Nehemiah portrayed as following in the footsteps of the Persian Emperor? First, Nehemiah’s table appears to have its own sources like the Persian Emperor’s when he was in Persepolis: his table need not necessarily be identified directly with the tax receipts of the region where it is located. Second, not all of Nehemiah’s provisions were consumed onsite. They likely allow for a certain distance from his physical table. Third, Nehemiah uses this table to bind friend, foe, and servant to himself. One difference is the lack of gift giving on Nehemiah’s part, especially the collection of provisions from the periphery and the distribution of luxury items such as drinking vessels. Nonetheless, Nehemiah indeed reflects significant aspects of Persian royal feasting glory.

8.4. Nehemiah 13:4–14: The Economics of Temple Affiliation 8.4. Nehemiah 13:4–14: The Economics of Temple Affiliation

The second large cluster of economic concerns in the book of Nehemiah appears in ch. 13, which many view as separate in origin from the Nehemiah Memoir of chs. 1–7*, 11. It is especially difficult to combine the joyous celebrations at the end of ch. 12, which details the smooth functioning of the temple treasury (cf. v. 44), with the problems in the very same location beginning in 13:4. These difficulties are set up by the discovery of the Deut 23 prohibition on including Ammonites or Moabites in the congregation in 13:1–3 and subsequent action. The opening phrase of the chapter, “On that day,” necessarily

meat portions record the direct involvement of Parnakka, which underlines the exceptional nature of such allocations. (texts listed in n. 45: 1790-1, 1793-4; NN 254, 572, 727, 1101, 1289, 1847; the others are NN 1507 and PF 1633).”

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depends on a prior determination of which day, best found at the end of the prior chapter (12:27, cf. 12:44). Like the concerns in the pledge of Neh 10, 13:1–4 addresses the issue of intermarriage first, focusing on an admixture of cultic and economic issues. The tradition of Balaam, which in these verses alludes to the attempt to curse Israel, also includes the advice (initially successful) to draw the Israelites into sexual – and I would therefore posit marital – and cultic relationships (Num 25). An allusion to this tradition provides an unnamed but direct line of support for the community to separate from the pagan “admixture” (‫)ערב‬, especially the Moabites in 13:3. Upon the basis of this scriptural narrative argument, vv. 4–9 tell a “current” spin off of the tale in which a leader of the Yehud community, Eliashib the priest (like Zimri, son of the Simeonite chieftain in Num 25:14) had given Tobiah (the foreign leader, like Cozbi, daughter of the Moabite leader in Num 25:15) prime real estate. Tobiah kept his “household items” (‫כל כלי בית טוביה‬, 13:8) in a large temple room. These rooms, ‫ לשׁכה‬or its rare parallel ‫נשׁכה‬, are found primarily in sanctuaries, but also in the royal residence: they seem to be special purpose rooms used for feasting (1 Sam 9:22; Jer 35:2, 4), as a scriptorium (Jer 36:12, 20, 21), for slaughtering (Ezek 40:17), and as storerooms (Ezra 8:29, Neh 10:38–39). Whether Ezek 40:44–46 (cf. Ezek 42 i.a.) imagined official uses by priests and others or rather private uses by cultic officials is unclear.173 In the case of Neh 13:4–9, however, the room is clearly depicted as having been used as a storeroom for temple gifts and equipment.174 I find the juxtaposition between the gift of the room to Tobiah and the gifts for the temple personnel (in v. 5) quite striking in these verses. It indicates close identification between cultic and economic spheres. Verse 5 lists three separate categories of temple goods. There are those seemingly tied directly to temple service carried out by the temple personnel – the grain offering, the incense, and the equipment (‫)והכלים‬. Next are the tithe provisions for Levites, singers, and gate-keepers.175 Finally come the “gifts” of “contributions” (‫)תרומת‬176 for the priests. The next verses, 13:6–7, tell of Nehemiah’s absence during the prior events and his appraisal of them upon returning to Jerusalem. According to the present

173

The LXX uses a number of terms to render ‫לשׁכה‬/‫נשׁכה‬: i.e., γαζοφθλακιος, αθλη, εξεδρα, θησαθρος. 174 This is clear from the MT; however, the LXX translates οικων εν γαζοφυλακιω “living in the treasury.” The use of “living” here is an interpretation of ‫נתון‬, which itself implies “being over” (as in NRSV, NIV, NJPS, LUT, ZurB), rather than living in. 175 On the potentially important economic role for the “gate-keepers” as clerks or accounts, see Stevens, Temples, Tithes, and Taxes, 72–75. 176 The specific rendering of this term is quite debated. See, e.g., the long discussion in HALOT, 1788–90.

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form of the text, Nehemiah finds a known enemy, one that attempted to intimidate, defame, and harm him, now having access to and even rights to a room in the Temple courts. Nehemiah calls this situation an “evil.” He then goes onto rectify the problem, purify the room, and have the equipment of the Temple returned there. What was the nature of this evil? Blenkinsopp provides an enlightening commentary: “Provision of space in the temple was no doubt connected with commercial concessions. ... Commercial interest, either as supplier or as middleman, was therefore the reason for wanting a pied-à-terre in the temple.”177 The particular relationship between this event and those of Neh 6, where Tobiah also plays a prominent role, and the events and the events of Nehemiah’s first governorship (5:14–19) have proven challenging for scholarship. Tobiah appears in Neh 6 as an enemy to Nehemiah, but part of the insidiousness of his role lies in his maintenance of intimate, even familial, ties with Judah and Jerusalem. If anything, the complexity of the relationship between Tobiah and the Jerusalem-focused community makes the actions attributed to Nehemiah in ch. 13 more understandable. Tobiah and Nehemiah function as rivals seeking to exert their vision for the Jerusalem Temple. As others have argued, this ongoing rivalry suggests that those who may have combined forces with Nehemiah to build Jerusalem’s walls did not feel obligated to follow his leadership on other issues that could pertain to Judean identity.178 In fact, in both 5:1–13 and here in ch. 13, economics forms a primary point of divergence between Nehemiah’s vision for Yehud and the vision of his opponents. For the purposes of my analysis, the importance of commercial interests and their intricate connections to the temple are important, and the text of this section supports them. The final verses of this section, 13:8–9, juxtapose the equipment or furnishings (‫ )כלי‬of Tobiah, which is removed from the storeroom, with the equipment belonging to the temple. Cultic affiliation and economic provision are intertwined. This juxtaposition mirrors the similar one in the opening verses of this section (vv. 4–5). Unlike in ch. 5, which also addresses economic matters and Nehemiah’s governorship, the economic events here clearly focus on actions in the temple precincts and Jerusalem. What kind of a Jerusalem is one to imagine for these stories, and when might this Jerusalem have existed? As I argue above (4.4 Yehud: The Record of its Material Culture in the Persian Period), the most likely place for the residence of the governor in the mid-fifth century according 177 Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 354; followed by Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 195 n. 15. For earlier interpretations for other scholars see Kellermann, Nehemia, 169 n. 99. The similarity with the depiction of Jesus’ clearing out the Temple in John 2:14–17 and Matt 21:12–13 and parallels is striking. 178 Cf. Gary N. Knoppers, Jews and Samaritans: The Origins and History of Their Early Relations (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 159; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 261.

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to present archaeological knowledge was not in Jerusalem, but in Ramat Rahel. Nevertheless, some economic activity in relation to the temple can be posited once the temple was rebuilt around 515 BCE. Opinions about the composition-critical and historical setting of 13:6 diverge. Wright rejects earlier acceptance of Nehemiah’s second gubernatorial stint, viewing v. 6b as a redactional insertion attempting to justify the change in Nehemiah’s behavior upon entering Jerusalem. In Wright’s view, chs. 2–4 portray Nehemiah as a builder; in ch. 13 he becomes a social reformer.179 Wright correctly points to the philological difficulties with understanding 13:6 as a reference to a second term as governor, positing that the position of governor was a life-long appointment. While this seems something of an argument from silence, there is little evidence pointing to the contrary, and the use of ‫ ואבוא‬and ‫ נשׁאלתי‬are odd for a “return” to Jerusalem.180 Many scholars have noted the ties between Samaria and Jerusalem hinted in the Elephantine letters (i.e., TADAE A4.7),181 which appeal for support of the Yahwistic cult in Elephantine from both Palestinian Yahwistic cultic centers. If competing claims for financial provisions can be viewed as an essential part of a rivalry between Gerizim and Jerusalem, this section – regardless of the historical difficulties linked with a second gubernatorial stint by Nehemiah – displays the competition with a narratival flair. The connubial links to the Samaritan leadership made inroads into the very treasury storerooms of the Jerusalem Temple itself. Before Nehemiah’s action, the location of resources for the execution of the Jerusalem cult served as a commercial hub for a leader with ties to Samaria, whose cultic adherence might then have lain with the Gerizim cult. Religious battles are conceived in economic terms. If this is the case, then it would be more telling if the marital relationship had taken place with one of Sanballat’s relatives – as is in fact the case with Joida (son of Eliashib and son-in-law of Sanaballat), rather than a relative of Tobiah the Ammonite. Perhaps this points to the historicity of the event, and a situation in which Tobiah performed cultic roles on behalf of the Samaritan

179

Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 194–96; 203. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 386, comments: “… it leaves many questions unanswered about which our historically conditioned minds are inevitably concerned.” While, as Williamson notes, there is no reason that Nehemiah needed to have returned in the capacity of governor, it seems a bit odd that he would return only as a private person after having been both governor and personal attendant to the Persian Emperor. The extremely limited evidence leaves Williamson’s position with the appearance of special pleading. On the other hand, evidence exists for the travels of Arsames, satrap of Egypt. Perhaps many Persian officials spent time on the road. 181 See above, 4.4.1 The Rebuilding of the Temple, the City of Jerusalem, and Demography. 180

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provincial leadership.182 Incidentally, one might also view Tobiah’s use of a room as a tax collecting service on behalf of the Samaritan authorities. Such an implication would support Schaper’s view that the temple served as an intermediate point of collection for the Persian Empire. However, this view raises the question of when such a proposal fits historically. Given the presence of the palace at Ramat Rahel throughout the Persian and early Hellenistic periods, this possibility should not be viewed too highly, and if entertained, then with regard to cultic taxes. This notion of the centrality of economic issues carries forward in the next section, 13:10–14. Reading in terms of the MT, the transfer of the temple storeroom to Tobiah’s care connects to the loss of the Levites’ portions (v. 10). They flee their posts in Jerusalem to return to their fields in order to find food.183 Nehemiah lays the blame not at their feet, but at the feet of the prefects (‫)הסגנים‬, asking, “Why was the House of God abandoned?” (v. 11). This may seem surprising because a direct connection between temple and the prefects is not readily apparent, especially because the priest Eliashib was the one giving use of the room to Tobiah. It may be helpful here to follow Lemaire, who notes the likely place of an official such as the prefect who was in charge of tax inflows in Persepolis: As for the ‘prefect’ (sgn) – the Persepolis tablets often mention this official together with the gnzbr' ‘treasurer’ and the ‘pgnzbr’, ‘subtreasurer’…, but the prefect is always the first listed. In this context, the segan was probably the superior of the ganzabara' and in charge of the economic administration of the province, primarily the collection of taxes.184

The economic connotations of ‫ נעזב‬again become important here (cf. 10:40): “Why was the House of God abandoned (niphal)?” The term also appears in 5:10 in the mouth of Nehemiah. In that chapter it also appears as a part of an indictment of the nobles and prefects (‫את־החרים ואת הסגנים‬, 5:7): they should 182 Similarly Kellermann, Nehemia, 170; however, see the issues identified by Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 202–4. 183 Verse 10bβ could be seen as a redactional addition, as proposed by Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 206. The subject changes from the Levites to the Levites, the singers, and the “doers of the work” who flee to their fields. This addition could provide the reason why Nehemiah needs to gather them in v. 11b. A similar view is taken by a number of commentators, most recently, Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 271 n. 29. Evidence from Babylonia indicates the similarly unimpressive economic situation of temple personnel: “In conclusion, the data suggest that while prebend ownership of course could have substantial economic benefits, it also implied a plethora of financial burdens in additon to the social and religious obligations. This militates against a simplistic view of priestly functions primarily as a lucrative source of secure income; the motivations of the participants in the prebendary economy owed as much (or more) to social traditions as to straightforward economic interest, and even well-entrenched families of priests did not invest the bulk of their wealth in such offices.” Jursa, Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia, 168. 184 “Administration in Fourth-Century B.C.E. Judah,” 55.

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“abandon” loan pledges or liens against the poor.185 Reading these two passages together brings to the fore the question of which financial agreements one is to “drop,” and which ones are to be fulfilled. Nehemiah’s solution has two parts: returning “them” to their posts – that is the Levites, and in later compositional layers the singers and gatekeepers as well, and seeing that “And all Judah will bring the grain and the new wine and the oil tithes to the storehouses” (v. 12). Both parts are significant economically: I presume that, unlike Eliashib and his relative Tobiah, these Levites and the others who return from their fields have no significant connections with other temple complexes. If they did, then they would likely have gone there to earn their keep rather than returning to their fields. “All Judah” is also an important designation here,186 keying in on the desired economic base for providing financial support to the Jerusalem Temple. “All Judah” is to unite around the Jerusalem Temple. This place of worship should operate as their religious and identity center. A different term appears in 13:11–13 for the place that the tithes were stored. There does not appear to be any significance to the fact that this is called the “treasuries” (‫)אוצרות‬, while earlier the term ‫ לשׁכה‬appeared.187 Malachi 3:10 also conceives of tithes being brought to the ‫( בית האוצר‬sing.). In the case of Neh 13, the treasuries are put under the charge of Shelemiah the priest, Zadok the scribe, and Pedaiah from the Levites, with Hanan’s assistance. I expect – though this is an argument from silence – that none of these figures has demonstrable ties to Gerizim, perhaps one of the unmentioned qualities that led to their appointment. It may be, though, that the mention of their “faithfulness” (‫ )נאמנים‬relates to the commitment (‫ )אמנה‬in Neh 10:1. Both relate directly to the provision of the salaries of temple attendants (cf. 10:38–40). Notably, when viewed in light of the competition with the Gerizim sanctuary, these officials receive the responsibility to apportion the goods ‫לאחיהם‬, “to their brothers,” in this case meaning among those serving in various capacities at the Jerusalem sanctuary. Summing up my perspective on Neh 13:4–13, the scene and the actions attributed to Nehemiah demonstrate the negotiation of the key issue of Judean 185

Cf. Throntveit, Ezra, Nehemiah, 123, who highlights similarities between chaps. 5 and 13. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 209 and n. 66, notes the usage in DtrH and Chronicles. His primary example (1 Chr 28:9–10) relates the term to provision for the temple personnel. 186 In Neh 10:40 “the children of Israel and the children of the Levites” promise not to abandon “the House of our God.” “All Judah” only occurs otherwise in Jer (5x), 1 Kgs (1x), 2 Kgs (1x), and Chr (18x). “All Israel” appears several times in Ezra-Nehemiah (Ezra 2:70; 6:17; 8:25, 35; Neh 7:73; 12:47). Most interesting is 12:47a: “And all Israel in the days of Zerubbabel and in the days of Nehemiah [were] giving the portions of the singers and the gatekeepers at their time.” 187 A different term, θησαυρους, also occurs in the LXX of v. 12. The LXX leaves out the MT’s ‫ על־אוצרות ואוצרה‬from the beginning of v. 13a.

8.5. Nehemiah 13:15–22: Economics and Sacred Time

293

identity revolving around the issue of economics. One of the important planks in Nehemiah’s visions for the community – developing further from ch. 5 – is that the Judeans’ need to focus their cultic-financial ties around Jerusalem. Anyone with ties elsewhere, namely Samaria, Ammon, or Gerizim, should either sever those connections or themselves be severed from the Judean community.

8.5. Nehemiah 13:15–22: Economics and Sacred Time 8.5. Nehemiah 13:15–22: Economics and Sacred Time

This section is set off from the previous one through the general introduction “In those days” (‫)בימים ההמה‬. The connection to the previous section is, therefore, somewhat loose: a general period of time rather than a single event comes into view. Furthermore, the location changes in v. 15 from the temple in Jerusalem to the Judean vineyards. The agricultural locations had also been in view in v. 10, but now the change is in relation to sacred time, the Sabbath.188 Like the prior section, the connection between the rural periphery and central place appears once again here. The question, however, no longer addresses the final cultic place for the Yahwistic gifts, but rather the time of the collection and sale of merchandise. After addressing some of the general questions of the passage, my discussion turns to insights on the economics of the Persian period implied in the social background. This section provides one of the few brief (and stylized) glimpses into economic exchange that takes on something of a market form in Yehud during the Persian era. In terms of the compositional history of the section, several issues arise: (1) the divergent geographic locations, (2) the discrepancy between working on the Sabbath and selling/buying on the Sabbath, and (3) the omission of “the Tyrians” from the LXX. First, in line with the move in v. 15 outside Jerusalem, to the vineyards, fields, and winepresses in the countryside, Wright suggests the repeatedly redactional nature of references to Jerusalem in the section (vv. 15aβ, 16b, 18aβ, 19–20). He thus identifies the earliest layer as a problem of the Yehud nobles pressing others into service on the Sabbath (vv. 15a, 17–18*, 22*), without any exchange addressed. Such a text would maintain the perspective of the Ten Commandments somewhat more clearly, where doing agricultural work is most clearly in focus for the Sabbath commandment (for different reasons in the Exod 20 and Deut 5 versions, of course). The passage as a whole conceives of the Sabbath legislation quite differently from what one encounters in Deut 5/Exod 20 and more theological overviews of the Sabbath. As Reinmuth notes, “Der Nehemia-Bericht scheint eher an den 188

Throntveit, Ezra, Nehemiah, 122, notes this move from holy space to holy time.

294

8. Nehemiah: The Community-Defining Economic Ethics

Konkreta des Handelsverbotes interessiert … ”189 From Wright’s perspective, the purchase of goods – foreign goods brought by the Tyrians – enters next in terms of the redaction history, but still prior to the spatial relocation of the section to Jerusalem, which itself obtains later (only subsequent to the addition of the pact in 10:1, 32–40 [ET: 31–39]).190 One observation that may bring the aspect of economic exchange into perspective is that the agricultural products mentioned in v. 15 – grain (lit. “heaps” ‫)הערמות‬, then in the second half of the verse, wine, grapes (dried?), and figs (dried?) – belong to those commodities that could be exchanged. However, they could also indicate portions delivered as tax payments in kind. It is surprising, though, that olive oil is missing from the list. The fact that grain is the first (and according to Wright the earliest) agricultural product mentioned can be brought into conversation with developments during the Persian period. As noted above for the lowlands closer to the Egyptian border,191 archaeological excavations in the lowlands have found large granaries. These are brought into connection with the provisioning of Persian armies in their various expeditions against Egypt. The final clause of the verse (‫ )ואעיד ביום מכרם ציד‬sums up the agricultural products as “provisions” (NJPS), which aptly notes their status as ordinary, rather than luxury products. This constitutes an important contrast to v. 16. Thus, v. 15 focuses on community internal practice. This type of issue could take place in any agricultural rural community, regardless of the redistributive, market, or reciprocal nature of the society (to use Polanyi’s categories). However, of the actions taking place, only the treading of grapes is something related to a specific season. Nonetheless, these verses depict treading a winepress, which need not happen on a particular day. This observation implies that the actions could be postponed until the following day, which in turn could support Wright’s contention of an inner-Judean issue. It comes as quite a surprise, then, when the spotlight in v. 16 moves from the Judean countryside to Tyrian merchants (in the MT!) bringing fish and all kinds of wares to sell on the Sabbath. Important here is also the fact that they are selling them “… to Judeans and in Jerusalem.”192 Community boundaries 189

Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 288. Cf. the similar tendency in Amos 8:5, as pointed out by Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 395. 190 Wright, Rebuilding Identity, i.e., 240. 191 Cf.. above, 4.4.3. “Changes in the Fourth Century – Historical and Economic”; Faust and Weiss, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World,” 73, posit the supplying of grain for the coast (Ashkelon) in the preexilic period. Above, Section 4.3.5. “The Philistine Coast.” 192 Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 295, notes the omission of “Tyrians” from LXX, and considers LXX the better text, though he has difficulties constructing a smooth reading of the text. Yet it is a curious support for Batten’s position that Reinmuth identifies the “traders” in v. 20 with the Tyrians of MT v. 16 on the basis of Ezek 26–28. He never notes the omission from the LXX. Reinmuth, Der Bericht Nehemia, 290. Wright (Rebuilding Identity,

8.5. Nehemiah 13:15–22: Economics and Sacred Time

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are conceived in terms of economic transactions at the proper time. Edelman contends: “Thus, it seems that [Nehemiah] wanted to send an important message to both the native and the gēr in Jerusalem and Yehud concerning the sanctity of Shabbat.”193 She argues for the plausibility of Tyrian traders in Jerusalem during the middle of the fifth century. Perhaps they were awarded trading rights to Yehud as a reward to Tyre for its shipbuilding on behalf of the Persian overlords. The absence of the Tyrians from the LXX, however, is quite puzzling: they do not appear in the rest of the section, nor do the issues focus on their action, thus suggesting that the MT may have added them, perhaps in connection with ‫( הרכלים‬v. 20), in light of their frequent association with ‫רכלים‬ in Ezek 27. In any case, the passage would be clearer without all of v. 16: It may simply be that the interruption of the Tyrian merchants was added in light of separation between the Tyrian and “Israelite” workers of Ezra 3 at a later stage when the various parts of the book Ezra–Nehemiah were put together. Regardless of the composition-critical nature of this verse, the verse highlights, as Edelman shows, the challenge involved with attempts to regulate market transactions on the Sabbath when the residents of the region adhere to multiple religio-ethnic groups. The extremely attenuated state of Jerusalem during the whole Persian period points at least to the increasing importance of this question of group boundaries as the Hellenistic period progressed.194 The selling of fish, as I mentioned above, should be set in contrast with goods collected, transported, and sold as “provisions” in v. 15. Fish needed to be imported from outside the immediate region of Jerusalem, of course. This fact likely designates it as a product of elite consumption, at least in Jerusalem. One could easily survive without fish consumption, so they function instead as some sort of symbolic carrier of social status (especially if they were of a foreign variety, such as Nile perch). Nehemiah turns his critique in vv. 17–18 against the “nobles of Judah” ( ‫חרי‬ ‫)יהודה‬, which is unexpected after v. 16, but fits better with the events seen in v. 225–38.) argues similarly and makes the presence of the Tyrians a linchpin for his identification of vv. 16, 20–21 as later; however, as far as I can tell, he never provides text-critical arguments for including it in the text. Myers argues for MT because no good reading of a text without the Tyrians has been found, especially in light of the contrast with the ‫בני יהודה‬ to whom they were selling. 193 Diana Vikander Edelman, “Tyrian Trade in Yehud under Artaxerxes I: Real or Fictional? Independent or Crown Endorsed?” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 212. 194 Oded Lipschits, “Jerusalem Between Two Periods of Greatness: The Size and Status of the City in the Babylonian, Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods,” in Judah between East and West: The Transition from Persian to Greek Rule (ca. 400-200 BCE): A Conference Held at Tel Aviv University, 17-19 April 2007, ed. L. L. Grabbe and O. Lipschits, LSTS 75 (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 173–75.

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15. The “nobles” repeatedly come under fire from Nehemiah (e.g., 6:17–19), indicating that, from the perspective of the book, they had the responsibility to steer the community in the direction of keeping Sabbath. The content of vv. 17–18 (esp. 18: “Indeed your ancestors did this and [as a logical consequence] our God brought all this evil upon this city”) postulates a connection between these elites and, assumedly, the preexilic elite responsible for the Babylonian destruction. It is open to question whether these nobles would acknowledge their connection to preexilic Judah/Israel, but the book of Nehemiah indicates that such a connection was at least plausible, suggesting, therefore, that these nobles were not just located in Yehud but identified themselves with this ethnic-religious group. Indeed, they could be seen as ethnic-religious Judeans/Jews. This point is important because it means that Nehemiah attempts to regulate these economic issues by means of an in-group appeal, rather than railing against or trying to work against an outsider group. The actual extent of “all this evil” (v. 18) remains undeveloped, however, which may suggest that it includes the present subjugation of Jerusalem to Persia. While such subjugation might be part of the “evil,” it is even more likely to indicate the lowly, half-empty, and half-destroyed nature of Jerusalem in the Persian period.195 These verses, however, do not amount to more than an admonition, appealing to the individual motivations of the Judean elites. The fact that the focus changes to the use of gubernatorial power to close the gates in vv. 19–22 shows that Nehemiah’s appeal in vv. 17–18 concludes the discussion of the issue raised in the previous verses. Judean nobles pressing for unnecessary agricultural and transport work on the Sabbath was a matter to be settled though appeal to conscience. It is also conceptually impossible for Nehemiah to have enforced this prohibition through other means: even tiny Yehud was too large, and Nehemiah would have had too few resources to make sure that Sabbath adherence was followed. The measures taken by Nehemiah in vv. 19–22 do not appeal to the sense of in-group belonging or religiously inspired ethic of the nobles. These verses portray Nehemiah as an authority able to put his wishes into practice through force. As others have noted, the closing of Jerusalem’s gates for the Sabbath would only manage to keep peddling from taking place inside the city, but traders could stay outside the gates in hopes that buyers would come out to them. This problem gave rise to Nehemiah’s threats to the traders that they should stay away from the environs of Jerusalem on the Sabbath. What do these narrated events and measures depict in terms of the rise of economics and economic exchange as a category for community definition and theological imagination? What can be noted first is that the attention to exchange on the Sabbath is a rarity in biblical texts, appearing only in this passage 195 “All this evil” is such a broad concept that it is likely that Hellenistic Jewish readers could fill it with quite different content, such as the strong infusion of Greek culture.

8.5. Nehemiah 13:15–22: Economics and Sacred Time

297

and in Amos 8:5: “‘When will the new moon be over so that we may sell grain; and the Sabbath, so that we may offer wheat for sale?’” Outside these two texts, Sabbath prohibitions address agricultural work or the more general “all work.” A further exception to this, however, could be Jer 17:21–22, which forbid carrying burdens out of one’s house or into Jerusalem on the Sabbath.196 The prohibition concerning Jerusalem of course shows thematic connections with Neh 13:15b, though Jer 17:21 specifically mentions “bringing into the gates of Jerusalem.” The issue of Jerusalem’s gates arises as a major focus in Neh 13:19–22. Wright rejects the opinion of many interpreters that this transport of goods into Jerusalem implies trade, which brings up the question of just what people would be bringing the goods into Jerusalem for.197 His position is supported by Jer 17, which does not provide any conclusive evidence for the gates as a place of trade, but instead contrasts lifting burdens through Jerusalem’s gates with bringing cultic offerings through the gates (Jer 17:26). The connection in Jer 17:20, 25 between Sabbath obedience and the security of the Davidic throne may also lead to consideration of tributary burdens being carried, again possibly similar to the denunciation of the Judean nobles in Neh 13:17. Yet this interpretation certainly overlooks the orientation of Jeremiah’s critique towards the people as well, which, taken as a whole, again tips the scales in the direction of a critique of trade. For what other reason would the people be bringing agricultural goods into Jerusalem on the Sabbath? If they were not brought as offerings – the desired result, then they were most likely brought for trade or tribute. As a result, the question is intrinsically an economic one – are the goods to enrich the cult, or are they to enrich the individual or royal coffers? It is certain, however, that attention to the “the day of their selling” (v. 15b) and the Tyrian traders (v. 16) necessitates a focus on trade. And, as mentioned in Neh 10, it is striking that the groups in view are the Judean nobles, specifically, and an ethnically-unidentified group of traders (v. 20) – and not “the peoples of the land” – whom one should avoid trading with on the Sabbath in 10:32. The Tyrians, who also import cedar for the temple along with Sidonians in Ezra 3, appear in a positive light in Ezra–Nehemiah. Here as well their presence as dwellers in Jerusalem does not seem to raise any issues, but merely that the Judeans should not purchase goods from them on the Sabbath. Taking ‫להם‬ in 13:17 to refer to the Judeans (and those in Jerusalem) as the nearest referents, it is the community of Yehud that bears the responsibility to observe the Sabbath. This regulation extends the Sabbath in a new manner, unknown in earlier biblical texts. Whereas there is the one possibility (Amos 8:5) of an earlier prohibition of selling on the Sabbath – or, actually, the greedy desire for the 196

Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 131. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 223. He can only make this argument by first designating v. 15b a later addition. 197

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Sabbath to end so that one could return to selling, Neh 13:16–17 lays the onus on the buyers to abandon the practice on the Sabbath. These Sabbath buyers, especially those of the Tyrian-imported fish, belong to the elite. As such, they are also those most likely to be patrons. When thinking of the structure of the Yehud economy, they appear time and again to play key roles: for example, they are those with the capital to lend to small landholders (5:1–13, esp. v. 7, when names the nobles and officials) and those with connections to Tobiah and Sanballat in ch. 6. The typical logic implied to Nehemiah’s prohibition of buying is the protection of Judean merchants: as Edelman argues above, the Tyrian traders would have an unfair advantage if they were the only ones selling on the Sabbath. According to this logic, no problem arises from buying from non-Judeans per se, or even any expression of preference for in-group merchants, but rather the intention is to create a “fair” playing field. This explanation extends both to the prohibitions in vv. 16–17 and also to the closing of the gates and dispersal of merchants from outside them in vv. 19–22. This latter action is deemed necessary because residents of Jerusalem still find ways of making purchases from the traders. No later than with the sanctification of the gates by the Levites in v. 22 (often viewed as a late update), the inclusion of commercial trade into the dynamics of the sacred obtains. As Eskanazi argues, this action brings about the sacralization of the entire (though tiny!) Persian period city of Jerusalem.198 The Levites’ presence as cleansing guards of the wall to sanctify the Sabbath day indicates the inclusion of the gates in the holy space.

8.6. Conclusions from the Book of Nehemiah 8.6. Conclusions from the Book of Nehemiah

While the book of Ezra infuses the traditional motif of temple building with decidedly economic concerns, the book of Nehemiah’s perspective on economics centers far more around the formulation of Judean affiliation and identity in the province of Yehud. First, the building of the wall required significant outlays in terms of labor and materials. As far as materials, the book of Nehemiah is similar to the book of Ezra in making the Persian King the human provider (in the hand of God, of course). However, turning to chs. 5 and 13, the discourse instead addresses the empowered nobles and officials, attempting to motivate them to choose to affiliate themselves with the Judean community centered in Jerusalem. This choice would cause them to forego both financial profits (5:1–13) and ties to the surrounding regions (i.e., Samaria). Nehemiah puts forth his own forbearance of profit as an example to be followed (5:1–13, 14–18). The concerns in ch. 13 are similar. In Neh 13:4–14, Nehemiah casts 198

Eskanazi-Cohn, In an Age of Prose.

8.6. Conclusions from the Book of Nehemiah

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the Samaria-affiliated Tobiah from the Temple storeroom in order to make room for and provide the financing for the Levites and other temple servants that had left to find their sustenance on farms. In 13:15–22 the focus is on the sanctification of economics in terms of time. This text again calls on the nobles to play a leading role in setting aside the Sabbath, thereby subordinating immediate economic considerations and values beneath the value of the community.

Chapter 9

Conclusion This study has attempted to provide a foray into the interactions between the economic cultures and changes of the Persian Period and the texts of the Hebrew Bible arising from this era in which economic motifs play significant roles. My discussion opened by recounting earlier accounts of economics in biblical texts and the “biblical world.” It continued to lay a foundation by investigating several classic ways of modelling economics in the ancient world, concluding that New Institutional Economics was the most promising way forward. While this model itself appeared less often in the subsequent analyses, it nonetheless undergirds an approach to economics that can incorporate both the performance of economies and their structures. As a result it allows for both neoclassical and substantivist insights on why economies develop and what other “non-economic” concerns can impinge on economic activity – especially political and cultural values. The opening textual discussion focused on early and primarily Mesopotamian legal treatises and debt-release edicts. This material demonstrated the centrality of the royal figure for economics. Especially important was the ruler’s attempt to demonstrate divine approval on his reign by way of stable and affordable prices (or equivalencies). Monarchs tended to manipulate economic progress at the beginning of their reigns by means of debt-release edicts. These actions reveal the importance of the ideal of the economically-engaged and just monarch for the actual administration of royal power. Mesopotamian monarchs sought a balance between economic flourishing and equity that would highlight their closeness to the gods, and these conceptions were emulated in the first millennium West Semitic inscriptions as well. The second discussion considered economics in preexilic biblical texts in light of their historical setting. Like in the comparative Levantine and Mesopotamian material, the primary actor on the economic stage was the king (though port cities form an exception). Yahweh himself rarely intervenes directly in the economic sphere. For example, the biblical prophets generally address the king – or other elites – in an attempt to get them to use their economic resources in equitable fashions. The discussion of these texts was also juxtaposed with discussion of archaeological data that has in the past been interpreted either to support an economic system dominated by the state or a system

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in which trade of luxury and everyday goods was ascendant. My analysis of the material culture and the texts indicates that the economic structures could be quite varied, even within the quite limited region of Israel-Palestine. Ashkelon experienced considerable economic specialization, but attempts to assume that this was the case for inland and mountainous Judah stretch the evidence too far toward modern systems (of either a top-down or a free-market variety). The extensive survey in Chapter Four provides key economic material from a wide swath of the (Central and Western) Persian Empire and the neighboring Greek world. The various lines of evidence in this chapter have rarely been brought together, which has rendered an overview of the topic necessary, nut quite difficult. This chapter opens with theoretical reflection on the nature of coinage, its rise, and its general importance for the cultures in which it appears. What may be surprising is that, even though Persian rulers issued their own coins from Darius onward, coinage never played a central role in the economics of the central Persian treasury or Persian heartland. Also something of a new development in scholarship is the conclusion that the Persian Empire was not subject to widespread deflation as a result of the extraction of silver from circulation on the part of the Persian rulers – much to the contrary of the picture on display in Herodotus. The decisive evidence against this picture comes from the vast number of tablets from the Babylonian heartland during the early Persian Period. These economic documents show that the Babylonian economy grew and thrived in real terms, and the (though laconic) price data points to increased wealth and entrepreneurial trade, especially outside the temple sector. However, no sphere of the Babylonian economy remained unaffected by trade in silver – including the temples and the Judean communities of al-Yahudu. Finally, the Babylonian evidence indicates that corvée labor was the most important “tax” for the Persian authorities. Numerous taxes were paid in kind and in silver, but labor was of the utmost interest. Yet labor’s scarcity also meant that employers, including temples, were forced to pay wages–at times quite significant amounts. The surveys of the Greek and Phoenician regions revealed the important interconnectedness of these traders, despite the fact that they often found themselves on enemy lines. Greek economies, especially Athens, experienced rapid economic growth during this period. In Athens this growth was coupled with democratic and imperialistic developments in the six–fifth centuries. It also involved a thorough integration of coinage into internal and external markets. These developments brought about the re-evaluation of notions of wealth and status. Such discussions on value took place in terms of the embracing and rejecting of coined money as a marker for value. Yet, as the responses from Aristotle and others show, this transformation was not complete. Worth noting is that while Greek coinage “ruled” the Eastern Mediterranean, especially in

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the early fifth century, the same was not true in the political realm. Coinage and political hegemony do not coincide in the same way that they often do in the modern world or even under the Ptolemies in the early Hellenistic Period. Phoenician traders served as the primary intermediaries for Greek culture and trade in the Levant, Palestine, and Egypt. While their maritime power waned in the face of the Greeks, the Phoenicians, likely with Persian backing, became the prime movers in terms of culture in Palestine, especially along the Philistine Coast. This Phoenician influence led to an increasing divergence between the level of economic progress in the lowlands and the slow recovery in the Judean highlands. While from Gaza in the south to Akko in the north, this thin strip of land emerged quickly after the Babylonian devastation to become a center of economic trade, it also developed throughout the Persian Period into a base for Persian military operations in Egypt – developments that were likely quite interconnected. The situation in Egypt, where Persian hegemony was never fully accepted, was diverse. Interaction with Greek traders and polities is on display both in the archaeology and in documents of trade. While coinage did not play a significant role in this realm in trade, it did take on political ramifications otherwise foreign to the Persian world. Tachos(e) and Nectanebo II introduced domestic coinage, likely tied to their claims of independence from Persia. The Elephantine community, while perhaps insignificant in the larger realm of Egyptian political maneuvering, enhances the backdrop for Yehud because of its detailed records of Judean economic dealings. These exhibit marital contracts and loan documents that accept significant trade in silver and that view matrimony largely as an economic engagement. Considerations of Yehud’s northern (Samarian) and southern (Idumean) neighbors show that there was significant economic diversity on display as one moved south. Samaria’s economy progressed earlier and to a larger extent than Yehud’s. Samaria was better integrated into trade and coinage with the surrounding region, even to the point that a number of the coins thought to have been issued by Samaria may in fact have come from other locales. While more developed economically, Samaria’s Yahwistic sanctuary in Gerizim was built slightly later than its competitor in Jerusalem. However, the presence of the two temples for Yahweh in the distinct regions proves to be of decisive importance for understanding the temple economics of Jerusalem and of the book(s) of Ezra-Nehemiah. The involved reflection on economics in Persian Yehud necessitated further theoretical discussion on appropriate models. Houston’s notion of a “patronage system,” which allows for both economic dependence in a rural setting and economic progress was shown to be the best way to characterize the Yehud economy, while retaining the conceptual framework of New Institutional Economics.

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My analysis of the material culture sought to take recent developments, especially with regard to Ramat Rahel and Jerusalem, into consideration. Because of the quite poor nature of Jerusalem and because of Ramat Rahel’s luxurious Persian-period finds, it becomes important to allow for a very slow development of Yehud’s indigenous economic development during the Persian Period. A differentiated view on distinct zones within the Levantine economy of the fifth and fourth centuries indicates that the Persian-period biblical texts should not be taken to assume too much entrepreneurial action and economic progress. At the same time, however, the community of exiles (while not numerically significant enough to impact the material culture of Yehud) would have brought their experiences of more developed economies with them from Babylonia (and elsewhere!), thereby influencing reflections on Judean identity in this era. Chapter Five then turns to a number of exilic or Persian-period biblical texts to see the nature of economics depicted in them. In one outstanding texts, Isa 55, God appears to put on the guise of a street vendor, only to debunk the economic or entrepreneurial logic. Instead of selling food and water, Yahweh will provide a luxurious banquet and eternal covenant to all takers. The logic is distinctly that of a gift society rather than the marketplace. In Chronicles, Haggai, and the Priestly Document, economics becomes an important category in relation to the building of the various sanctuaries (First Temple, Second Temple, and Tent of Meeting, respectively). The texts offer divergent views of who should be obliged to fund Yahweh’s earthly dwelling place. A significant issue is whether an Israelite king (i.e., David) should fund it alone; whether a tax can be taken (as in Exod 30:12–13) or if the sanctuary should be funded entirely by voluntary contributions, as in Exod 33 or Hag 1 from the people at large. Chapter Six addresses the first sustained appearance of an economic motif, that of Ezra 1–8, which centers on the question of funding for the Second Temple. While constructed from different sources, a significant narrative thread in these chapters concerns Cyrus’ decree to build the Temple and the struggles to fulfill this task. The resistance by the enemies of the Judean community is primarily depicted in their attempts to convince the Persian Emperors that the rebuilding efforts would result in the loss of financial revenue (Ezra 4, 7). The Judean community’s success takes the shape of receiving Persian imperial support – given specifically from the coffers of the Judean community’s enemies – both to complete the Temple and to support its ongoing praxis. Finally, the book of Nehemiah makes economic considerations an important part of its attempt to forge a unified Jewish-Judean community. Generally separate from the efforts to build the Jerusalem wall, Neh 5 and 13 call upon the wealthy in the Yehud community to identify first and foremost with the Yahweh temple in Jerusalem (likely instead of with the corresponding temple in

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Gerizim). They likewise exhort those leaders to follow Nehemiah’s lead in putting care for their “fellow Judeans” ahead of economic advancement. All as whole, the Persian Period witnessed considerable development in the economic sphere. The Judean community in Yehud was surrounded by economically more advanced and more well-connected polities. In response, the biblical texts put their considerations of economic issues into the forms of classic traditional topoi, such as the question of who might be designated by the deity to build a sanctuary. Generally speaking, the Persian biblical rejected the rise of economically defined value. They instead repeatedly placed community cohesion around their sanctuary as the highest value.

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Index of References Old Testament/Hebrew Bible Genesis 8:17 10 18:8 23 23:9–16 23:15–16 24:22 29:18 31:29 34:21 47:24 Exodus 1 1:13.14 2–11 3:22 5:15 11:2 12:35 20 20–23 21 21:2–11 21:7–8 21:32 22 22:24 22:24–26 22:25 22:26 25 25:2 25–31 25–Lev 9

276 192 205 194, 195, 209 194 64 63 276 251 166 166 65, 225, 242 46 273 70 178, 222 249 222 222 293 71 74, 75, 196 73 258 63 77 71, 72, 73, 252, 254, 255, 266 71, 73 73 72 192 192 193 215

28:21–29 29 30:12–13 30:12–15 30:13 31:2 33 35–39 35:4 35:20–29 36 36:2 36:3–7 38:24 38:25–29 Leviticus 5:14–26 8:7 8:13 10:5 16:4 17–26 18:25 19:35–36 22:14 25

192 234 192, 193, 303 193 63 193 303 192 192 192 193 193 193 53 193

25:27 25:36–37 26:19–20 27:3–4 27:25

194 225 225 225 225 188, 196 178 196 195 46, 70, 184, 187, 196–200, 201, 202, 209, 262, 269 258 252 207 63 63

Numbers 5:5–8

195

330

Index

18 25 32:22, 29

178 288 258

Joshua 8:30–35 18:1

151 258

Deuteronomy 5 7:1–6 12 14:25 14:25–26 14:25–27 15

2, 33, 60, 65, 71, 74 293 178 221 168 239 195 59, 71, 73, 74, 75, 77, 185, 187, 196, 197, 262, 269 75 73, 75 73 255 74 73 73 73, 197 73, 75 63, 73, 74 197 217 277 197 64 64 71, 287 178 71, 73, 250, 252 73 73, 74 71, 255 258 254, 255, 256 255 72, 73 258 249 151, 155 151 250, 254 250 207 251 178

Judges 4:19 5:25 9:9

205 205 205

1 Samuel 4 9 9:8 9:22 12:3 13:21 22:2

222 65 63 288 66 63 255

2 Samuel 8:11 8:18 14:30 19:29 19:44 20:24 23 24 24:24

257, 258 135 65 249 166 247 205 193 64, 189, 190

1–2 Kings

76

1 Kings 4 4:6 5 5:2–3 5:20 5:23 5:23–25 5:29 6–8 6:9 7:7 7:13–46 8 8:63 10:28 12:10, 14 12:18

193 247 46, 227 190, 284, 286 227 135 226 247 192 206 206 193 193 190 276 274 247

15:1 15:1–2 15:1–11 15:2 15:3 15:4–6 15:9 15:10 15:12–18 15:18 18:8 17:11–12 17:14 17:14–20 22:19 22:29 23 23:4–9 23:20–21 23:23:20 23:21 24 24:7 24:10 24:11 24:12–13 24:13 26:7 27:4 27:12 28:12 28:44 28:30, 38 28:32 34

331

Index of References 16 21

191 64, 197

2 Kings 4:1 4:1–7 5:2–8 6–7 6:24–27 6:25 6:26 7:1 7:16–18 8:3, 5 11:7 12 15:19–20 16 22 22–23 25:12

249, 255 76 273 38, 76, 78 38, 76 63 249 38, 63, 76 63, 76 249 166 192 54 192 60 57 80

Isaiah 1:10–17 1:21–26 3:12–15 3:15 5:8–10 22:18 24:2 33:21 40 40:2 40–55 40–65 44:22 44:23 44:24 45:14–17 49:26 50:1 55 55:1 55:1–2 55:1–3 55:1–5 55:2 55:3 60:5–18

33, 69 67 69 69 58 66–68, 77 166 250, 254–55 166 201 201 201 188 201 201–2 202 207 201 255 3, 201–3, 209, 303 204, 255 202–4 201 20, 203 203 203, 205 207

64:8–11

206

Jeremiah 17:20–26 22:14 31:14 32:9 34 34:11 35:2, 4 36:12, 20, 21 40:7–12 52:34

297 206 205 64, 194 269 257 288 288 80 91

Ezekiel 1 7:13 18 18:7 18:8–17 18:12 18:16 22:12 26–28 27 27:17 40:17 40:44–46 42 45:12

169 197 250 258 252 258 258 252 294 295 227 288 288 288 63

Hosea 4:3

276

Joel 2:23

73

Amos 2:6–8 4:1 2 4:1–2 4:6 5:10–12 6:4–6

66, 67 58 66 207 77 66, 67

Obadiah

155

Micah 2:1

251

332

Index

2:1–2 2:2 2:9 3:9–12 6:9–15 7:1–7 7:7

66, 68, 77 258 68, 77 67 49, 68 69, 77 69, 77

Zephaniah 1:12–14 1:18

68 70

63:6 65:12 68:32–33 72 74:9 79:5 80:5 82 89 104:25 109:11 112:5

205 205 207 1, 68–69 206 206 206 69 205 166 255 254

Job 24:9 36:16

66 205

Proverbs 3:27 8–9 8:18 17:18 19:17 22:7 22:26 28:8 31:26

56 251 203 73 253 254 254 256 72, 252 257

Song 5:1

205

Lamentations 5 5:20–22

204 206

Ecclesiastes

99

Esther 7:8

179 257 99, 182, 299 190, 191, 207, 221, 224, 225, 229, 233, 234, 235 216 180, 182, 206, 212, 214, 215, 216, 221, 229, 236, 241

1:2 1:4 1:6–7 1:10–11 2:6–8

242 193, 209, 214, 223, 234, 303 206 206 206 206 207

Zechariah 1–8 1:16–17 1:17 2:14–15 3 3:10 3:11 4:8–10 6 7:10 8:10–13 8:12 13,15 8:20–23 9:15 11:13

188, 234 206, 209 208 207 208 182 208 208 208 182 258 208 208 208 207 257 181

Malachi 1:8 3:5

273 258

Ezra 1

Psalms 7:12 15:5 36:9 37:21 37:26

207 72, 252 205 254 254

1–4 1–6

Haggai 1

Index of References 1–8 1:1 1:2 1:4 1:4–11 1:7–11 1:9–11 1:11–2:1 2 2:2 2:68–69 2:69–71 2:70 3 3:3 3:4 3:6 3:7 3:12 4 4:1 4:1–5 4:2–6 4:4 4:4–5 4:4–23 4:6–24 4:9–11 4:12 4:13 4:14 4:16 4:17 4:17–23 4:20 4:24 5 5–6 5:1–2 5:2 5:11 5:17–6:5

4, 211, 214, 221, 242, 245, 303 241 242 178, 221, 235, 241 214, 223 221–22 193, 222 216 112, 190, 224 224 190, 192, 193, 223– 24, 225 221 292 145, 214, 295, 297 208 225 226 193, 225–29, 234, 255 207 216, 233, 235, 238, 303 233 208, 229, 233 212 237 214 180 214, 216, 229, 233– 35 212 232 9, 184, 229–33, 237, 241 230 230 242 230, 233 184, 229–33, 237, 241 216, 233 191 216, 229, 233, 236 217 224 236 212

6 6:4 6:4–10 6:5 6:6 6:6–8 6:9 6:9–10 6:10 6:13 6:14 6:17 6:19–22 7

7–8 7–10 7:12–26 7:14–24 7:19 7:24 7:25 7:26 8 8:24–34 8:25 8:27 8:29 8:33 8:35 9–10 9:1–2 9:2 9:11 10 10:8 Nehemiah 1–4 1–7 1:1–4 1:1–7:3 1:2–4 1:3 2–4 2–7

333 207, 240 233–37 191, 222, 233–37 240 208 237 236 238 240 233–37 193, 236 292 237 165, 207, 210, 215, 217–18, 233, 240, 303 215, 237 212, 214, 215, 217, 241 178, 217 229, 234, 237–41 221 9, 184 177, 178 217 191, 207 241 221, 292 14, 221, 224 289 221 241, 292 10, 180, 242 178 277 178 178 180 4, 33, 57, 99, 145, 151, 182 219 212, 218, 246, 261 219 261 248 246 290 85

334 2:1 2:3 2:8 2:11 2:12–16 2:16 2:17–18 3 3:8 3:31–32 3–4 4–6 4:8, 13 4:15–17 4:17 5

5:1 5:1–11 5:1–12 5:1–13 5:1–19 5:4 5:5 5:7 5:10 5:14 5:14–19 6 6–7 6:1–14 6:2–4 6:16 6:17–19 6:18 7 7:2 7:4 7:19 7:69–71 7:72 7:73

Index 271 248 165 246 246 277 248 9, 167, 184, 244, 246–49 10 10 10 260 277 219 219 9, 10, 68, 70, 71, 90, 147, 186, 187, 196, 208, 209, 211, 219, 220, 242, 245, 246, 260, 293, 303 219 45 245 244, 249–70, 271, 289, 298 219 184, 204, 228, 232, 244–45, 250, 273 251 277, 291 291 184 9, 45, 244, 261, 271–87, 289, 298 208, 289, 298 219 249 219 277 296 184 112, 221, 224 165 166, 250 221 224 213 292

8 8–9 8–10 8:7 8:9 9:27–28 10

10:1 10:11 10:31 10:31–40 10:32 10:33 10:38–39 10:40 11 11–13 11:1–2 11:25–30 11:35 11:44 12:27 12:27–43 12:40 12:44 12:47 13

13:1–4 13:4 13:4–9 13:4–13 (13) 13:5 13:6 13:7 13:10 13:10–11 13:10–13 13:11 13:12 13:15 13:15–16 13:15–18 13:15–22

178 244 212, 219 247 213 249 193, 211, 219, 242, 244, 245, 246, 288, 297 292, 294 247 242, 257 244, 245, 294 65, 245, 258, 297 171, 184, 245 288, 292 184, 291, 292 167 212, 218 166, 250 158 184 184 288 219 277 249, 288 292 10, 25, 145, 187, 199, 204, 209, 211, 219, 228, 242, 246, 261, 271, 273, 292, 303 288 184 244, 249, 288 292, 298 184 151 249 293 240 151, 244, 245 277 184 297 258 244 245, 293–98, 299

335

Index of References 13:20 13:23–28 13:30

197, 258 242, 244 197

1 Esdras (Esdras α) 2:5–7 2:15–25 3:1–5:6 5:44 9:37 9:49

210, 212–14, 229 213 229 213 224 213 213

1 Chronicles 4:40 21 21:24 21:22–24 29:21

189, 209 166 189, 191, 193, 194 194 189 278

21:25 22:4 22:18 26:27 28:9–10 29 29:7 29:6–9

189 227 258 248 292 190–91, 234 224 190, 192

2 Chronicles 1:16 2:15–16 3–6 9:20 15:7 28:10

276 226 192 282, 284 191 257

Extra-Biblical Texts West Semitic Aqhat CTU 1.23 Kilamuwa Samaria ostraca Sefire Tell Fekherye Mesha Stele TADAE A 2.3 A 4.7 A 6.11 A 42 B 2.2 B 2.3 B 2.6 B 3.1 B 3.3 B 3.8 B 3.9 B 3.12 B 3.13 B 4.2 B 4.6

204 204 38, 76 53 208 208 197 250 167, 183, 290 231 253 149 149 149, 242 149, 242 149, 242 149, 242 258 149, 157 149, 259 149 250

B 4.7 B 6.1 B 6.2 B 7.1 B 7.2 B 8.5 B 8.11 C 1.1 C 3.7 C 3.12 C 3.14 C 3.27 D 7.18

258 149, 242 149, 242 258 87, 173 258 232 258 132, 146, 232 235, 240 235 235 258

Arad 155–56 Beersheba 155–56 Makkedah (Khirbet el-Qom) 156–59 Wadi Daliyeh 152, 265

Hittite Hittite Laws

34–35, 37, 40, 46, 70, 194

336

Index

Persian

Egyptian Wenamum

51

Akkadian/Sumerian Neo-Assyrian letters 50 Black Obelisk 53 Agade, Curse of 38 Ammi-ditana 43–44 Ammi-Saduqa 43–45, 75 Ashurbanipal Royal Inscriptions 37, 76 Ashurbanipal’s Prayer for Coronation, 39 Astronomical Diaries 61 Eanna Temple Archive 113, 116, 117 Ebabbar Temple Archive 113, 120 Egibi Archive 95, 113, 118–21, 125, 127 Enlilbāni 45–46 Gudea 33 Eshnunna, Laws of 34, 35, 36, 37, 41, 262 Hammurabi, Laws of 34, 35, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 63, 69, 71, 75, 76, 195 Lipit-Ishtar, Laws of 34, 36, 74 Murashu Archive 10, 95, 113, 120–23, 127, 162 Nabonidus (Tarriff Inscription) 38, 39, 76 Shamshi-Adad I Royal Inscriptions 76 Samsi-iluna 43 Sargon Royal Inscriptions 37 Tabia Archive 113, 123 Ur-Nammu/a, Laws of 34, 35, 36

Behistun 84, 165 Persepolis Fortification Tablets 93, 95, 101, 105–8, 110, 116, 122, 165, 178, 279, 286 Treasury Tablets 93, 95, 105–11, 122, 279, 285, 301

Greek Aelian 93 Aristophanes 15, 128, 134 Aristotle/Pseudo-Aristotle 5, 16, 19, 95, 110, 111, 128, 134, 278, 301 Arrian 143 Athenaeus 124, 280, 282, 284 Demosthenes 87 Diodorus 87, 88, 94, 141, 143, 146, 173, Herodotus 3, 44, 83, 85, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 100, 102, 106, 110, 124, 125, 128, 141, 143, 146, 147, 173, 224, 228, 231, 232, 240, 263, 283, 284, 301 Isocrates 87, 141, 173 Josephus 151, 152 Looten 178–79 Polyaenus 91, 141, 278, 282, 284, Plutarch 91 Thucydides 94, 141, 231, Xenophon 5, 16, 86, 88, 95, 108, 109, 128, 134, 146, 148, 173, 231, 278, 283, 285

[Type here]

Index of Authors Abraham, K. 118–19, 122, 125, 305 Adams, S. 10, 242, 303 Albertz, R. 111, 179, 240, 305 Alram, M. 103, 305 Ambar-Armon, E. and Kloner, A. 172, 305 Anderson, G. 36, 190, 201–2, 305 Anderson, J. 253, 305 Aperghis, G. 106–7, 306 Aquinas, T. 35 Arnold, B. and Choi, J. 251, 274, 306 Astola, T. 119, 121, 128, 171, 306 Aubet, M. 135, 306 Baker, D. 42, 72, 74, 306 Balmuth, M. 95, 96, 306 Bang, P. 23, 30–1 Barstad, H. 80, 306 Batten, L. 267, 273, 286, 296, 306 Bautch, R. 259, 306 Beaulieu, P.-A. 116–17, 306 Becker, J. 224, 306 Becking, B. 224, 264, 306 Bedford, P. 8, 118, 126, 150, 176, 180– 82, 206–7, 216, 226, 237, 306 Berlejung, A. 81, 116, 248, 307 Blenkinsopp, J. 105, 150, 180, 210, 212– 14, 218, 220, 245–46, 248–49, 269, 277, 289, 307 Betlyon, J. 104, 143, 156, 307 Bilkes, G. 259, 307 Bloch, Y. 128, 307 Blum, E. 178, 307 Boda, M. 219, 307 Boer, R. 5, 17, 24–27, 51, 122, 161, 165, 268 Böhler, D. 213–14, 307 Bourdieu, P. 10, 31, 308 Bowman, R. 107–8, 308

Bordreuil, P. 103, 308 Briant, P. 84–92, 94, 105–8, 110–11, 119–20, 125, 141–42, 146, 148, 165, 173, 179, 231, 280, 283–84, 308 Brockelmann, C. 255, 308 Buch, J. 252, 308 Callatay, F. de 145, 308 Cameron, G. 93, 108–10, 285, 308 Carr, D. 80, 179, 213, 308 Carradice, I. 100–1, 224, 308 Carter, C. 8, 85, 161–62, 308 Chaney, M. 6, 50, 56–58, 308 Charlesworth, J. 155, 308 Chirichigno, G. 42, 73–75, 197–98, 308 Clifford, R. 203, 308 Coomber, M. 6–7, 26, 56–58, 66–67, 309 Dandamayev, M. 23–24, 94 Dandama[y]ev, M. and Lukonin, V. 89– 94, 101, 111, 119, 231, 309 Dasgupta, A. 17–18, 309 Demsky, A. 184, 247, 309 Descat, R. 91–92, 309 Dietrich, W. 70, 309 Driel, G. 121, 185, 309 Driver, G. 230–31, 258, 309 Dusinberre, E. 92, 309 Dušek, J. 87–88, 152–53, 309 Eckhardt, B. 14, 132, 310 Edelman, D. 156–57, 161–63, 174, 186, 295, 298, 310 Elayi, J. 136, 139, 310 Elayi, J. and Elayi, A. 103, 137–39, 154, 310 Engen, D. 130–31, 133, 310 Eph’al, I. 121, 310 Eph’al, I. and Naveh, J. 157–58, 310

338 Eskenazi Cohn, T. 212, 229, 236, 242, 310 Fantalkin, A. and Tal, O. 158, 163, 174, 177, 310 Faust, A. 49, 53–54, 56, 81, 82, 160–63, 310 Faust, A. and Weiss, E. 55–56, 60, 77, 161, 186, 227, 294, 310 Finkelstein, I. 167, 310 Finkelstein, J. 43, 311 Finley, M. 8, 128–29, 311 Foster, B. 39, 42, 46, 311 Frayne, D. 46, 311 Frei, P. 83, 311 Frei, P. and K. Koch 83, 311 Fried, L. 148, 172, 184, 224, 235, 237, 311 Fulton, D. and Knoppers, G. 212, 311 Fusfeld, D. 21, 311 Galling, K. 222, 311 Gertz, J. 192, 311 Gills, B. and Frank, A. 26, 311 Gitler, H. 168–69, 170, 311 Gilter, H. and Lorber, C. 172, 312 Gilter, H. and Tal, O. 143–44, 169, 312 Goddeeris, A. 21, 312 Goldingay, J. and Payne, D. 203, 312 Goldstein, R. 92, 312 Gottwald, N. 6, 56–57, 265, 312 Grabbe, L. 9, 142–43, 173, 213, 312 Grätz, S. 210, 213, 217–18, 225, 236, 239, 312 Grayson, A. 38, 312 Green, D. 38, 312 Greengus, S. 43, 312 Greenfield, J. and Shaffer, A. 207, 312 Greer, J. 67, 312 Gropp, D. 265, 312 Gross, C. 254, 268–69, 312 Guillaume, P. 7, 9, 23, 44, 115, 180, 185–86, 196, 262–66, 268, 312 Gunneweg, A. 210, 236, 257, 271, 313 Hallock, R. 93, 106–8, 313 Halpern, B. 54, 206–7, 214–15, 313 Handley-Schachler, M. 178, 313 Hanhart, R. 264, 313

Index Heltzer, M. 263, 313 Henkelman, W. 107, 122–23, 279, 280– 81, 286, 313 Hillers, D. 194, 313 Hoffner, H. 35, 40 Hoglund, K. 85, 247, 313 Hölscher, T. 13, 97, 104, 313 Hopkins, K. 16, 313 Houston, W. 7–8, 19, 50, 52, 56–59, 66– 68, 74, 180, 183–85, 250, 262–64, 302, 313 Houtman, C. 72, 314 Howgego, C. 97, 99–100, 130, 314 Hübner, U. 97, 103–4, 169, 314 Hudson, M. 7, 41–42, 44, 314 Hurowitz, V. 115, 215, 314 Japhet, S. 112, 212, 215, 218, 221, 314 Jenni, E. 276, 314 Jigoulov, V. 133, 136–40, 314 Joannès, F. 63, 314 Johnstone, W. 190, 314 Jones, E. 31, 314 Jonker, L. 165, 314 Joüon, P. 274–76, 314 Jursa, M. 22–24, 27, 39, 61–62, 83, 90– 91, 98–99, 112–22, 124–27, 181, 198–99, 231–32, 247, 267, 285, 291, 314–15 Karrer-Grube, C. 215, 221, 236, 237, 315 Kartveit, M. 152, 315 Keel, O. 166, 181, 233, 315 Kellermann, U. 244, 245, 273, 289, 291, 315 Kessler, R. 6, 8, 14, 56, 58, 66–67, 219, 315 Kippenberg, H. 9, 182–83, 228, 316 Kistler, E. 282–83, 316 Kletter, R. 64, 316 Knauf, E. 71, 316 Knoppers, G. 84, 189, 289, 316 Koch, H. 108, 316 Kratz, R. 71, 150, 189, 194, 210, 212, 216, 220, 229, 246, 316 Kraus, F. 42–45, 316 Kreissig, H. 9, 316 Krüger, T. 217, 234, 236, 316 Kuhrt, A. 83, 90, 9394, 108, 316

Index of Authors Lakoff, G. and Johnson, M. 23, 12–14, 316 Lang, B. 7, 56, 316 Lee, K.-J. 177, 316 Lemaire, A. 156–57, 171, 178, 291, 316 Lemaire, A. and Lozachmeur, H. 165, 317 Lemche, N. 74, 317 Lenski, G. 26, 317 Levin, C. 64, 194, 31 Levin, Y. 156, 317 Levine, B. 108. 186, 196, 317 Levinson, B. 46, 71, 196, 317 Lewis, D. 278, 294, 317 Lipschits, O. 28, 53, 80–82, 85, 90, 113, 160–62, 166–68, 182, 185–86, 230, 246–48, 295, 317 Lipschits, O., Gadot, Y. and Langgut, D. 151, 318 Lipschits, O. and Tal, O. 168, 211, 318 Lipschits, O. and Vanderhooft, D. 160, 164 Liverani, M. 122, 318 Lyttkens, C. 131–32, 318 Magen, Y. 151–52, 318 Markoe, G. 135, 318 Master, D. 28, 52, 81, 318 Master, D. and Stager, L. 28, 54–55, 57, 60, 83, 98, 318 Mauss, M. 287, 318 Mešorer, Y. 152, 168, 318 Mešorer, Y. and Qedar, S. 88, 153–54, 318 Meyers, C. 286, 319 Meyers, C. and Meyers, E. 182, 319 Mieroop, M. van de 21, 24, 41, 319 Mildenberg, L. 104, 144, 153, 169, 183, 319 Milevski, I. 9, 184, 186, 231, 247, 319 Milgrom, J. 68, 195–99, 319 Miller, J. M. and Hayes, J. 80, 319 Miller, M. C. 282, 319 Miller, M. L. 9, 171, 319 Morris, I. 130, 319 Morris, I. and Manning, J. 50, 52, 319 Mowinckel, S. 218, 245, 269, 319 Muhs, B. 147, 320 Murphy, J. 63–64, 320

339

Myers, J. 178, 222, 224, 295, 320 Nam, R. 7, 23, 38, 51, 53–54, 60, 76, 320 Nardoni, E. 5, 320 Narotzky, S. 16, 320 Nelson, R. 72, 74, 320 Niemeyer, H. 51, 320 Nihan, C. 188, 195–99, 238, 320 Nitschke, S. 142, 320 North, D. 5, 20, 23, 29–31, 50, 320 North, R. 199, 320 Nussbaum, M. 19, 320 Oppenheim, L. 76, 320 Ötsch, W. 68, 320 Otto, E. 71, 320 Paganini, S. 203, 320 Pakkala, J. 210, 213, 215, 219, 237, 241, 321 Parpola, S. 40, 321 Paul, S. 68, 321 Pearce, L. 112, 184, 321 Polanyi, K. 5, 18, 21, 23, 29–31, 35–36, 41, 56, 76, 294, 321 Porten, B. 149, 167, 321 Porter, B. 228, 321 Postgate, J. 49, 321 Powell, M. 37, 95, 227, 321 Premnath, D. 6, 56, 60, 183, 321 Prosic, T. 237, 321 Rad, G. von 218–19, 266, 321 Radner, K. 49, 50, 322 Reden, von, S. 133, 322 Reich, R. and Shukron, E. 322 Reinmuth, T. 219, 249–52, 258–61, 269, 275–76, 291, 293–94, 322 Ricœur, P. 11–13, 27, 31, 204, 322 Römer, T. 75, 322 Ronen, Y. 171–72, 322 Root, B. 168, 322 Roth, M. 35, 322 Rudolph, W. 212–13, 218, 222, 224, 236, 250, 256, 266, 272, 291, 322 Sancisi-Weerdenburg, H. 279, 322 Schaper, J. 166, 181–82, 191, 291, 322 Schaps, D. 97–98 134, 137–38, 323 Schaudig, H. 39, 323

340 Schloen, J. 56, 185, 323 Schmid, K. 66, 69, 75, 105, 112, 178, 189, 192, 202, 217–18, 237, 323 Schmidt, E. 106, 323 Schottroff, W. 9–10, 219, 323 Schumpeter, J. 16–17, 323 Schunck, K.-D. 218–19, 245–46, 256, 260, 270, 274, 276–77, 323 Seaford, R. 13–14, 79, 96–99, 133, 195, 323 Sedláček, T. 16, 18–19, 323 Segundo , J. 5, 323 Seltmann, C. 95–96, 323 Sen, A. 17–19, 324 Siedlecki, A. 211, 324 Silver, M. 8, 22–23, 324 Slotzky, A. 62, 324 Snell, D. 22, 37, 95, 324 Sommer, M. 51, 324 Spek, R. van der and C. Mandemakers 62–63, 324 Stackert, J. 196, 324 Stager, L. 28–29, 52, 56, 324 Steinkeller, P. 46, 324 Stern, E. 80, 82, 84, 87–88, 141–45, 149, 151, 155–56, 159–60, 163, 168, 174, 324 Stevens, M. 224, 235, 324 Stiver, D. 12, 325 Stolper, M. 83, 110, 120–21, 325 Stronach, D. 100–1, 325 Tal, O. 65, 140–42, 145, 168, 170, 172, 285, 325 Taylor, C. 115, 325 Tebes, J. 55, 325 Temin, P. 62, 325 Throntveit, M. 261, 292–93, 325 Tolini, G. 275, 325 Trevet, J. 131, 325 Tuplin, C. 106, 124, 325

Index Ussishkin, D. 54, 166, 325 Utzschneider, H. 192–93, 326 Vogelsang, W. 84, 326 Volz, P. 203, 326 Waerzeggers, C. 114, 127, 176, 326 Wallerstein, I. 26, 326 Walton, J. 53, 55, 326 Weber, M. 99, 116, 207, 326 Weinberg, J. 179–82, 272, 326 Wells, B. 199, 326 Wenning, R. 134–35, 137, 143, 326 Westbrook, R. 42–44, 75, 326 Westbrook, R. and Jasnow, R. 7, 46, 326 Westermann, C. 203, 326 Wiesehöfer, J. 86, 132, 326 Wilk, R. 17–18, 24, 327 Williams, M. 7, 265, 327 Williamson, H. 151, 178, 180, 210–12, 215–16, 219, 224, 229–30, 233, 239, 241, 244–46, 248, 250–52, 254, 260, 266, 270–72, 274–76, 278, 285, 289– 90, 294, 327 Winter, I. 34, 327 Wright, D. 71–73, 75 Wright, J. L. 210–11, 219–20, 244, 246, 249–51, 255–56, 260, 263, 269, 271– 272, 278, 286, 289–94, 297, 327 Wright, J. L. and Elliott-Hollman, M. 270, 327 Wright, J. W. 158, 327 Wunsch, C. 265, 267, 327 Wyssmann, P. 169–71, 327 Yardeni, A. 146, 327 Zaccagnini, C. 37, 40–41, 83, 91, 328 Zangenberg, J. 151, 328 Zunz, L. 212, 328 Zvi, E. ben 68, 328

[Type here]

Index of Subjects Agriculture 25, 54, 99, 113–14, 117–25, 127, 148, 157, 161, 163–65, 175, 186, 227, 267, 293–94, 297 Arad 88, 155–56, 158, 173, 259 Artaxerxes I 85–86, 120, 124, 177–78, 215–16, 222, 229, 233–34, 236–39, 241, 272 Ashkelon 28, 52–55, 57–58, 60, 98–99, 137, 140, 142–44, 161, 199, 294, 301 Beer-sheva/Beersheba 58, 80, 88, 155– 56, 158, 173, 259 Bürger-Tempel-Gemeinde 179–80 Cambyses 44, 83–84, 89, 102, 141, 145–46, 192, 279 Capitalist/Market-oriented economics 6, 8, 17–23, 28 coinage 1, 3, 9, 13, 61, 79, 86, 88, 95– 105, 109–10, 128–34, 137–40, 143– 45, 148, 150–54, 159, 168–77, 183, 187, 211, 224, 226–27, 285, 301–2 corvée 9, 45–46, 62, 111, 125–26, 164, 231–32, 247–48, 275, 301 Covenant Code (CC) 2, 33, 46, 71, 74– 75, 195, 265, 269 Croeseid 100–1 Cyrus (the Great) 83–84, 86, 89, 125, 179, 180, 194, 206, 214–15, 217–18, 222, 224, 226, 233–36, 241, 283, 303 Cyrus Cylinder 217–18 daric 14, 100–3, 105, 132, 190, 224–25 Darius I 44, 62, 83, 85, 89–91, 94, 101, 106, 110–11, 119, 122–25, 127–28, 180, 194, 206, 214–15, 222, 224–25, 227–28, 232–37, 283, 285, 301

Darius' Reform 89–91 David 64, 189–90, 193–94, 203, 206, 222, 238, 249, 258–59, 303 debt 9, 23, 40 44, 121, 157, 183, 200–2, 205, 209, 251–54, 258. 262–65, 268– 69, 277 debt slavery 6, 7, 71, 73, 197–98, 201, 255 debt-release 2, 35, 43–44, 71, 197, 211, 300 Delian League 85, 130–32 drachma 138, 144, 147, 153, 169, 170, 223–25 Elephantine 10, 67, 79, 132, 145, 148– 51, 165, 167, 179, 183, 231, 242, 253, 274, 290, 302 En-Gedi 80, 163, 174–75 Gaza 87, 140, 142–44, 302 gift exchange 13, 20, 39–40, 51, 59, 82, 89, 92–94, 106, 108, 130, 133–34, 191–193, 223, 270, 275, 279, 281– 84, 287–88, 293, 303 Holiness Code 1, 33, 70, 188, 196–200, 265 Jerusalem 8–10, 55, 58–59, 64, 68–69, 80–81, 85, 112–115, 145, 151–52, 164–71, 176–77, 223–24, 229–30, 235, 238–42, 245–50, 261, 288–98, 302–3 Jubilee 6, 196, 197 Lachish 80, 88, 158, 163 latifundialization 6 loans 6, 70–74

342 long-distance trade 51, 109, 118, 120, 135

Index Solomon 70, 135, 190, 207, 222, 227, 274, 285–86 Substantivism 5, 8, 21–22, 24, 28, 30

Marxism 5, 17, 21, 24–26, 56 Nectanebo 87–88, 148, 302 Nehemiah Memoir (Denkschrift) 218– 20, 245, 247, 260–61, 271, 287 Neo-Assyria(n) 25, 34, 39, 42, 46, 48– 53, 61, 65, 74, 82, 84, 116, 135, 182, 207, 227, 247, 278 New Institutional Economics (NIE) 5, 29–31, 34, 118, 300, 302 P (Priestly Document) 188, 190–96, 221, 303, Patronage 25, 48, 50, 58–60, 158, 171, 175, 184–87, 192, 222, 250, 262–64, 302 Prices 36–40, 46–47, 61–65, 76 Ramat Rahel 58, 151, 163–65, 167–68, 176–77, 182–83, 261, 263, 275, 281, 290–91, 303 royal justice 33, 65–70, 74, 76–77 royal table 122, 279–80, 283 Sabbath 7, 121, 196, 244, 245, 293, 294–99 Samaria(n, Samaritan) 3, 8, 38, 53, 65, 67, 76, 79, 80, 87–88, 102–3, 135, 144–45, 150–55, 159–60, 169–71, 173–76, 180, 216, 226–27, 242, 249, 270–71, 275, 290, 293, 298–99, 302 Sheshbazzar 190, 214, 216, 222, 225, 271, 272 Sidon(ians) 52, 87–88, 132–33, 135–40, 142, 144, 152–55, 226–29, 297 Smith, Adam 19, 68

Tax 9–10, 30, 44–46, 49, 51, 53–54, 57, 83–84, 90, 92, 94, 105–7, 110–11, 113, 118–19, 121–22, 124–26, 131, 133, 136, 146–47, 150, 156–58, 164– 67, 171, 180–82, 84, 187, 193, 207, 210–11, 218, 228–33, 235, 239, 241, 244, 245, 247, 263–68, 271–73, 275– 76, 280, 285–87, 291, 294, 301, 303 Tribute 25, 49, 54, 58, 60, 82–83, 85, 88– 91, 106, 111, 125, 142, 181, 184, 228, 230–235, 239, 279 Temple – First 159, 166, 190–93, 206–7, 221– 25, 227, 236, 249, 303 – Second 1, 5, 115, 176, 190, 192–94, 208–9, 221, 225, 235, 303 Tennes Rebellion 88, 136, 173, 232 Tyre (Tyrian) 52–53, 88, 135–42, 152– 55, 170, 193, 222–29, 293–95, 298 Udjahorresnet 105, 217–18, 245 Value 4, 5, 12–14, 16–18, 34, 36, 39, 50, 59–60, 64, 73, 92–94, 96–97, 99–103, 107, 110, 118, 130, 133–35, 139, 148–49, 195, 197, 199, 221–23, 232–33, 268, 282–85, 299, 301, 304 Wages 22, 35–36, 40–41, 61–63, 108– 10, 116–17, 123, 150, 200, 203–5, 285, 301 Weber 31, 56, 99, 116, 207 Zerubbabel 182, 198, 206–7, 214, 216, 224–25, 229, 271, 292