Heroines, Heroes and Deity: Three Narratives of the Biblical Heroic Tradition 9780567662392, 9780567662378, 9780567662385

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LIBRARY OF HEBREW BIBLE/ OLD TESTAMENT STUDIES

621 Formerly Journal of the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series

Editors Claudia V. Camp, Texas Christian University Andrew Mein, Westcott House, Cambridge

Founding Editors David J. A. Clines, Philip R. Davies and David M. Gunn

Editorial Board Alan Cooper, John Goldingay, Robert P. Gordon, Norman K. Gottwald, James E. Harding, John Jarick, Carol Meyers, Carolyn J. Sharp, Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, Francesca Stavrakopoulou, James W. Watts

HEROINES, HEROES AND DEITY

Three Narratives of the Biblical Heroic Tradition

Dolores G. Kamrada

Bloomsbury T&T Clark An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

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First published 2016 © Dolores G. Kamrada, 2016 Dolores G. Kamrada has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN:

HB: ePDF:

978-0-56766-237-8 978-0-56766-238-5

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Kamrada, Dolores G., author. Title: Heroines, heroes and deity : three narratives of the biblical heroic tradition / by Dolores G. Kamrada. Description: New York : Bloomsbury, 2016. | Series: Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament studies ; 613 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2015047948 (print) | LCCN 2015048829 (ebook) | ISBN 9780567662378 (hardback) | ISBN 9780567662385 (ePDF) | ISBN 9780567669674 (ePub) Subjects: LCSH: Bible. Old Testament--Criticism, Narrative. | Narration in the Bible. Classification: LCC BS1182.3 .K36 2016 (print) | LCC BS1182.3 (ebook) | DDC 222/.3206--dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015047948 Series: Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Series, volume 621 Typeset by Forthcoming Publications (www.forthpub.com)

To Kristóf and Bálint

C ont ent s

Acknowledgments xi Abbreviations xiii Introduction

xv

Chapter 1 The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter 1 1.1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter and the Notion of ḥērem 1 1.1.1. War-ḥērem and the Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter 6 1.1.2. The Positive ḥērem Consecration and the Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter 9 1.1.3. Some Aspects of the Religious Background of Warfare 11 1.1.4. Ḥērem and Some Aspects of the Idea of Holiness 16 1.1.5. Child Sacrifice in Connection with War and ḥērem 19 1.1.6. Jephthah’s Vow and Sacrifice within the System of War and Holiness 22 1.1.7. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter within the Deuteronomistic Ideas 28 1.2. Characters in the Narrative: Jephthah’s Daughter as a Heroine 35 1.3. Foreign Rite or Israelite Rite? The Female Rite Construed within the Jephthah Cycle 44 1.3.1. Gilead 45 1.3.2. Origins 46 1.3.3. Jephthah, the gibbôr ḥayil (‫ )גבור חיל‬ 48 1.3.4. Reacceptance and Rise to Power 50 1.3.5. Jephthah and the Ammonites 51 1.3.6. Ephraim and Gilead 52 1.3.7. Father and Daughter 53 1.3.8. Conclusion to “Foreign Rite or Israelite Rite?” 62 1.4. Conclusion to Chapter 1 62

viii Contents

Chapter 2 Hairy Samson: The Function of the Hair Motif in the Samson Cycle 2.1. Samson: A Hero with Folklore and/or Mythological Characteristics 2.2. The Hair Motif and Connected Ideas in the Samson Cycle and Parallel Motifs in Folk Literature 2.3. The Hair Motif and Connected Ideas of the Samson Saga in the Light of Biblical and Other Parallels, and Their Possible Functions Within Biblical Systems 2.3.1. Long Haired Heroes: The Song of Deborah and Other Parallels 2.3.2. Delilah and Samson – Yael and Sisera 2.3.3. Divine Manifestation and Well-Arranged Hair: The Laḫmu, “Heroic Hairstyle” 2.3.4. The Slaughter of Ḫumbaba: Well-Arranged vs. Dishevelled Hair: Hair, Head, Melam(mu) and Superhuman Power 2.3.5. Hairy Samson – The Semi-Divine Hero? 2.3.6. Seven Locks of Hair: Superhuman Power and Solar/Cosmic Symbolism 2.3.7. The High Priest and Nazirate: Hair, Head, Consecration and Self-Offering 2.4. Summary and Conclusions to Chapter 2 2.5. Jephthah’s Daughter and Samson Within the Book of Judges

66 66 67 82 82 84 85 87 89 91 93 97 100

Chapter 3 Urim and Thummim – Saul and David 105 3.1. The Basic Meaning Conveyed by the Urim and Thummim Ritual 106 3.2. The Oracles in 1 Samuel 14:37, 40–42 and 1 Samuel 28 111 3.3. Saul and David 120 3.3.1. The Saul Cycle 120 3.3.1.1. 1 Samuel 1 121 3.3.1.2. 1 Samuel 9–11 124 3.3.1.3. 1 Samuel 13–14 132 3.3.1.4. 1 Samuel 28 and 31 156 3.3.2. David 170 3.4. Conclusion to Chapter 3 171 Closing Reflections

174

Bibliography 178 Index of References 190 Index of Authors 201

A c k n owl ed g me nts

This book is a revised form of my dissertation completed for the University of Vienna PhD Programme Advanced Theological Studies. The members of my dissertation committee were Marianne Grohmann, Jutta Hausmann, James Alfred Loader, and Robert Schelander. I am deeply indebted to Jutta Hausmann for all her help with editing my dissertation and furthering the completion of my PhD studies. I am also grateful to Ehud Ben Zvi, who revised the first paper that formed the basis of the book, and encouraged my scholarly work throughout. Portions of this book appeared in the following volumes: “The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter and the Notion of ḥērem: A Problematic Narrative Against Its Biblical Background.” Pages 57–85 in With Wisdom as a Robe: Qumran and Other Jewish Studies in Honour of Ida Fröhlich. Edited by K. D. Dobos and M. Kőszeghy. HBM 21. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2009. “ ‘Strangers to one another’: The Motif of Strangeness in the Jephthah-Cycle.” Pages 16–35 in The Stranger in Ancient and Mediaeval Jewish Tradition. Edited by G. Xeravits and J. Dušek. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. “Urim and Thummim.” Pages 267–89 in Cultural Memory in Biblical Exegesis. Edited by P. Carstens, T. B. Hasselbalch, N. P. Lemche. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2012.

A b b rev i at i ons

AB ABD

Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by D. N. Freedman. 6 vols. New York, 1992 AfR Archiv für Religionswissenschaft AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament ArOr Archiv Orientální ASOR American Schools of Oriental Research ATANT Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments ATM Altes Testament und Moderne BAR Biblical Archeologist Reader BBB Bonner Biblische Beiträge BDB Brown, F., S. R. Driver, and C. A. Briggs. A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament. Oxford, 1907 BHS Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. Edited by K. Elliger and W. Rudolph. Stuttgart. 5th corrected edition, prepared by Adrian Schenker. Stuttgart, 1997 Bib Biblica BibOr Biblica et Orientalia BIS Biblical Interpretation Series BN Biblische Notizen BWANT Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament BZ Biblische Zeitschrift CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly CTCA Corpus des tablettes en cunéiformes alphabétiques découvertes à Ras Shamra-Ugarit de 1929 à 1939. Edited by A. Herdner. Mission de Ras Shamra 10. Paris, 1963 DDD Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Edited by K. van der Toorn, B. Becking, and P. W. van der Horst. Leiden, 1995 HBM Hebrew Bible Monographs HSM Harvard Semitic Monographs ICC International Critical Commentary JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JBQ Jewish Bible Quarterly JESHO Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient

xii Abbreviations JHNES JQR JSJSup

Johns Hopkins Near Eastern Studies Jewish Quarterly Review Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament JSOTSup Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series JSSEA Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities KAI Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften. H. Donner and W. Röllig. 2d ed. Wiesbaden, 1966–69 KAR Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts. Edited by E. Ebeling. Leipzig, 1919–23 KBL Koehler, L., and W. Baumgartner, Lexicon in Veteris Testamenti libros. Leiden, 1953 KTU Die keilalphabetischen Texte aus Ugarit. Edited by M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. AOAT 24/1. Neukirchen-Vluyn, 1976. 2d enlarged ed. of KTU: The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani, and Other Places. Edited by M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. Münster, 1995 (= CTU) NRSV New Revised Standard Version OBO Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis Or Orientalia OTE Old Testament Essays OTL Old Testament Library PEQ Palestine Exploration Quarterly RB Revue Biblique RLA Reallexikon der Assyriologie RS Ras Shamra SJLA Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity ThWAT Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament. Edited by G. J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren. Stuttgart, 1970– UF Ugarit-Forschungen VT Vetus Testamentum ZAW Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZThK Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

I n t rod uct i on

In the present study, I will analyze three narratives of the heroic tradition preserved in the early historical books of the Hebrew Bible, namely the story of Jephthah’s daughter (Judg 11:29–40 within the Jephthah cycle, Judg 10:6–12:7), the Samson narrative (Judg 13–16), and the Saul cycle (1 Sam 1; 9–11; 13–14; 28; 31). This study will also touch upon some texts concerning David. All these stories are set in a military, heroic con­ text, and they represent the series of narratives that describe the early period of the history of Israel. Within the present context of the historical books, these narratives are actually found close together (only with the intermission of Judg 12:8–15, and that of Judg 17–21, the appendix of the book). Moreover, as Gregory Mobley (2005, 224–46) has pointed out, the traditions concerning Saul, his dynasty, and David (and his men) in fact conclude the “heroic age,” the age of the so-called gibbôrîm (‫גבורים‬, “heroes, warriors”). The principal point to be clarified is the reason for choosing these particular texts of the biblical heroic tradition: what are the factors that link together these narratives? To answer this question one needs to elucidate certain basic notions and to place these texts within the context of the biblical heroic tradition. Naturally, this introduction does not offer a thorough investigation of these issues; as a matter of fact, a brief summary of the key conclusions made in this study is presented here, in advance of the detailed evidence which will follow in the corresponding chapters below. While scholars have identified several important themes in the book of Judges, undoubtedly the basic motif of the book is the hero, the warrior. Indeed, the entire book of Judges is considered to be structured around the figures and exploits of heroes, great warriors (cf., e.g., Judg 2:16 in the theological introduction to the book). The term ‫שפטים‬ (mišpāṭîm, “judges”) itself has long been an issue of scholarly debate. In her commentary on Judges, Susan Niditch convincingly summarizes the various aspects inherent in this term. Referring to Jo Ann Hackett (1998, 187–88), Niditch (2008, 1) argues that “the root špṭ, ‘to judge,’ usually

xiv Introduction

has a ‘decision-making context’ in the Hebrew Bible.” She mentions the judicial and administrative functions which the term can refer to, and also the meaning “governing.” In all these possible functions of the biblical judges, decision-making is a crucial element. Yet the central theme of the book – military deliverance – is also associated with the motif of decision-making. In the first place, judges are endowed with the divine spirit (cf. Judg 3:10, and also 11:29; 14:19; 15:14), and “charisma, the status as judge, and military success are all interrelated” (Niditch 2008, 2). According to this scheme, the status of the judge is based on his direct relationship with the deity which is established through the descent of the divine spirit (‫ ;רוח־יהוה‬cf. first of all Judg 3:10). This direct divine inspiration enables the judge to achieve military success – actually, this description suggests that YHWH himself wins the battle or war through the judge. Niditch points out that the judge’s relationship with the deity entails a kind of oracular capacity. “One returns, then, to the root meaning ‘decision maker.’ The judge can offer decisions, whether to go to war or how to conduct the battle (e.g. Deborah, Ehud, Gideon), and his or her advice is followed because it is believed to be God-sent knowledge” (Niditch 2008, 2). Thus the root špṭ, “to judge,” can express the meaning “decision-making” in a military context as well. Moreover, as Niditch (2008, 2) claims, “war itself is also an indicator of where the divine will lies. God arbitrates in war and through war (11:27).” From a military perspective, the judging ability of the judges means the mediation of divine judgment: before a battle or war the deity can reveal his judgment in an oracle given to the judge, and the deity even carries out his divine judgment through the judge. God gives victory or defeat in the battle, and the warrior judge is the mediator of this divine judgment. This concept is clearly conceived in the Jephthah cycle (cf. Judg 11:27, 36), which is analyzed in Chapter 1 of the present study. Yet it will also be discussed in Chapter 3, although the latter does not concern the judges but Saul the warrior king (and David), whose reign follows the age of judges according to the systematization of biblical history in the book of Judges and the books of Samuel. In the Saul cycle, the motif of divination, the warrior king’s relationship and communication with the deity, is a central and crucial organizing theme. The chapter on the Saul cycle will treat the question of oracles before battle (sections 3.1–2). Oracles are believed to reveal divine judgment according to many biblical and ancient Near Eastern texts: divination conveys the deity’s judgment on the two rival armies. It reveals which of them will succeed and which will fail in the upcoming battle.

Introduction

xv

Beside the phrase ‫“( שפטים‬judges”), the term ‫“( גבורים‬heroes”) is also used to describe warriors. This term has other meanings as well, but its predominant connotation applies to warriors. All three major male characters analyzed in the present study are great warriors, and Jephthah and Saul are specifically denoted as gibbôrîm (“heroes”; cf. Judg 11:1, 2 Sam 1:19–27, and also 1 Sam 9:1), while Samson as an extraordinary warrior is termed as a nāzîr of Elohim (cf. Judg 13:5, 7). The latter phrase expresses Samson’s special relationship with the deity: nāzîr means that he is “consecrated” to Elohim. Moreover, in the Samson cycle, there can still be discovered some traces of an earlier (folk) tradition which involves a divine paternity motif and Samson’s status as a semi-divine hero (see 2.2 and 2.3.5 below). This intimate connection between Samson and the deity cannot be surpassed. Nevertheless Saul, the warrior king, was also thought to have a close relationship with the deity: probably, he was dedicated as a nāzîr to the deity according to a tradition which is connected with the figure of Samuel in the present biblical text (cf. 1 Sam 1:11, 28; see 3.3.1.1 below). Besides, Jephthah, the “mighty man of valour” (gibbôr ḥayil, ‫)גבור חיל‬, is endowed with the divine spirit (Judg 11:29), and his direct relationship with the deity is formed through the descent of the divine spirit, as is usual in the case of the warrior judges. The spirit of YHWH (‫ )רוח־יהוה‬descends on Samson and Saul as well (cf. Judg 14:19; 15:14; 1 Sam 11:6), and it assists them in their heroic missions – this is a common element in all three heroic cycles. In short, the status of a hero, a great warrior, is rooted in his close relationship with the deity. These biblical heroes, these great warriors, have a number of characteristic features in common. Their exceeding heroism, often including exceptional physical abilities, is coupled with a huge craving for success, and with a consciousness of their excellent status. These characteristics, however, can lead to weakness and instability as well, especially when they forget about the fact that their excellent status and exceeding heroism are due to their special relationship with the deity. While fulfilling their heroic missions, these biblical heroes invariably face danger, and thus they themselves can be a danger to others or even to themselves. They are assigned to carry out prominent exploits, but their greatness itself can cause their demise. The hero’s close relationship with the deity is not without great risk: the fall of the hero is indeed profound, since he can completely lose contact with the deity, and then his prominent status turns into its opposite. The various aspects, positive and negative features, typical of hero figures are treated especially in sections 1.3.3; 2.3.3; 2.3.5; 3.3.1.2, but also throughout the detailed analysis of the three heroic cycles.

xvi Introduction

The warrior gibbôrîm, and also the warrior type of the nezirîm, are predominantly associated with a certain era according to the traditions preserved in the Hebrew Bible. Genesis 6:4 mentions “the heroes that were of old, warriors of renown” (NRSV, ‫)גברים אשר מעולם אנשי השם‬, i.e. the legendary warrior heroes of ancient times. In the same verse these heroes are specified as the offspring of the sons of God (Elohim) and the daughters of men, viz. as some kind of semi-divine heroes. They are also identified with some sort of giants, the so-called Nephilim (‫)נפלים‬ in Gen 6:4. Ezekiel 32:27 describes the gibbôrîm as follows: “…lie with the fallen warriors of long ago [or ‘giant heroes of long ago,’ ‫גבורים נפלים‬ ‫ ]מעולם‬who went down to Sheol with their weapons of war, whose swords were laid under their heads, and whose shields are upon their bones; for the terror of the warriors was in the land of the living” (NRSV). The gibbôrîm, the above-mentioned Nephilim, and the so-called Rephaim, Anakim, Melakim and the like are repeatedly identified or associated with one another (see 1.3.3; 2.3.5; 3.3.1.2; 3.3.1.4 below). They are depicted as excellent warriors, sometimes as giant heroes and/or the ancient inhabitants of Palestine, and even as the spirits of dead/fallen warriors and kings. From all these particulars, including the allusion to the semi-divine origin of some heroes, the fragmented picture of a hero mythology seems to emerge – similar, for example, to the mythology of ancient Greek heroes. These sparse comments on biblical heroes, like the legends and myths of Greek heroes, are typically associated with ancient times. These heroes seem to be the representatives of a past (legendary) era even in the eyes of the ancient authors of these texts. (Cf. the systematization of ages found in Hesiod’s Works and Days, where the age of the heroes directly precedes the age of the author, i.e. the present era of the human race. The age of the heroes is definitely a past era according to this scheme; see Works and Days, lines 157–75.) From the nature of this material it follows that these stories about the heroes mix together elements of history and of legend/myth (for a summary of Gunkel’s approach to this issue, see Reventlow 2010, 347ff.; on myth and history in ancient Greece, cf., e.g., Vandiver 1991 and Calame 2003). One can identify certain historical details in these stories, but it is evident that the final versions of these biblical narratives are the literary products of a much later age than the period they try to depict. This study does not attempt to reconstruct the events of the so-called age of the judges (premonarchic period) or of Saul’s reign. I follow a very different approach in the treatment of these texts.

Introduction

xvii

There is a growing understanding among scholars that these biblical stories probably contain several folk-literary motifs. The investigations below use the results of previous research on this subject. In the present study, one of the main points of interest is to explore other possible folkliterary motifs while also trying to reconstruct any possible interrelations between these motifs. The analysis of the texts also involves answering such questions as whether these motifs made up complete legendary stories which served as the basis for the biblical accounts. If one postulates that the biblical accounts were built on such legendary stories, it can be surmised that these legendary stories were well-known tales of the biblical authors’ time. These legendary stories may have been formed and developed over a period of many centuries, and they reflected the ideas which the authors’ contemporaries envisioned of a long-past era. The story of Jephthah’s daughter appears to be a foundation legend of a female ritual which ceremony was still in use in the author’s time according to the biblical narrative (see especially 1.2 below). The Samson cycle was in all probability built on a legend/folktale widely known and popular among the biblical author’s contemporaries (see 2.1 and 2.2 below). The Saul cycle shows many similarities with the Samson cycle, with correspondences between several elements of the two narratives being apparent (cf. Brooks 1996; see 2.2; 2.3.3, and especially 3.3.1.1; 3.3.1.2; 3.3.1.3 below). Still, the possibility arises that some author(s) (possibly associated with the dynasty and mourning its demise) may have deliberately applied widespread legendary elements and storyline to an eminent historical figure, Saul. Nevertheless, regardless of whether the Saul cycle was the product of real folk tradition or the deliberate construction of widespread motifs, the majority of scholars agree that within its present context (the final version of the books of Samuel) the Saul cycle represents an earlier layer (compared with the greater part of the material) which probably had a long prehistory (see 3.3.1 below). These basic folklore/legendary stories do not at all necessarily date back to the premonarchic and early monarchic periods. In the present study, references to these stories do not in the least imply that these legendary tales were identical with any stories extant in the so-called age of the Judges or the reign of Saul. These traditions presumably had a long prehistory, but I do not postulate either that they were recorded in some written form before the biblical authors used them: the compilers of the biblical texts may have used only orally conveyed traditions. It seems, in fact, impossible to decide this issue. Yet it is well-known that very complicated texts could be transmitted through oral tradition (concerning

xviii Introduction

the Hebrew Bible, see Niditch 1996; with reference to Homeric epic, see, e.g., Kirk 2010). The folk-literary motifs and the presumed basic legendary tales will be reconstructed below by applying various different techniques, which will be mentioned in more detail at the end of the introduction. Given the fact that there is no scholarly consensus concerning the dating of the narratives in Judges and Samuel, it is important to make clear that this study does not attempt to date specifically the individual narratives. I only offer a relative dating, claiming that the final version of each chosen biblical account was composed much later than the premonarchic and early monarchic periods. However, I do not share the view of those scholars who argue for a very late (even Hellenistic) dating of the biblical narratives in question (cf. especially 1.1.7 below), since all these texts seem to reflect the Deuteronomistic theological ideas (see below). Besides the reconstruction of the folk-literary motifs and legendary stories that may have constituted the core of these biblical accounts, this study will mainly focus on the present, final version of the chosen biblical texts. Since these narratives are religious texts, it is only natural that they convey some kind of theological meaning. The present version of each biblical story was deliberately constructed and edited in order to transmit religious and theological messages. It seems that the authors, compilers, and redactors of these particular narratives utilized the above-mentioned folk motifs and legendary stories as a core, a foundation of their literary and theological schemes, and they also applied modifications and shifts in emphasis so as to communicate their messages. In their present form all three cycles belong to the so-called Deuteronomistic History (cf., e.g., Römer 2007), and the final version of each story fits into the system of Deuteronomistic ideas. The first chapter will especially concentrate on this issue, proving the validity of this presumption, and outlining a system of several religious concepts that are characteristic of the Deuteronomistic theology. Yet it is important to stress that the Deuteronomistic tradition shares these basic religious concepts with other biblical writings, and that these ideas are deeply rooted in religious notions of the ancient Near East and, more generally, in the ancient worldview. These basic religious concepts will be systematized in a table within Chapter 1, and these and similar concepts are continually referred to throughout the entire study. Furthermore, in Chapter 3, I will present more tables that categorize such concepts. The classification of religious notions promotes a better understanding of the Deuteronomistic theological schemes that appear to structure the final version of all three biblical narratives.

Introduction

xix

Returning to the question of the heroic age, an entire book of the Hebrew Bible is dedicated to dealing with this era, namely the book of Judges (yet it is the book of Joshua which commences to treat the problem of warfare). Still, as Gregory Mobley argues (2005, 224–26), the heroic age terminates only with the last of the heroes, actually with the reign of Saul and that of David. Saul especially embodies the archetypal hero, the ideal warrior king, standing head and shoulders above all the people (cf. 1 Sam 9:2; 10:23, see 3.3.1.2 below), and he owns not only the typical virtues but also the characteristic vices of the heroes which have been mentioned above. In 2 Sam 1:17–27, the mourning of David for Saul and Jonathan is actually a poem mourning the decline of an entire era, the heroic age. This poem pictures Saul and Jonathan as the archetypal heroes, the great warriors, and it grieves over the fall of heroes in general. According to this scheme, the reign of David, in fact, seems finally to conclude the heroic age (see Mobley 2006, 112–13). The motif of conflict with the Philistines also links Judges and the books of Samuel together: the first mention of the Philistine military threat is found at the beginning of the Jephthah cycle (cf. Judg 10:7); Samson is the one who embarks on hostilities with them (cf. Judg 13:5 and the entire Samson cycle), and the war against the Philistines is the predominant motif in the Saul cycle (cf. 1 Sam 13–14); finally, David finishes the conflict with them by completely defeating the Philistines (cf. 2 Sam 17–25). Considering the fact that the books of Judges and Samuel all are probably comprised in a comprehensive work, i.e. in the Deuteronomistic History, it is only to be expected that many motifs connect these books together. My study supports Mobley’s position about the so-called heroic age. The religious concepts and rituals examined here occur in the stories of Judges and Samuel and are scarcely if at all found after the account of David’s reign. That is to say, they are specific to what Mobley postulates as the literature describing the heroic age. In brief, they are as follows (and see the tables throughout this study): First is the divine spirit. Saul and David are the last military and civil leaders who are said to be endowed with the divine spirit (‫רוח יהוה‬/ ‫ )רוח אלהים‬which is a characteristic feature of the warrior judges, as mentioned above (concerning Jephthah and Samson, cf. Judg 11:29; 13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14). In the Saul stories, the spirit of YHWH/Elohim plays a preeminent role (cf. 1 Sam 11:6). Having deserted Saul, it is supplanted by an evil spirit from YHWH that begins to haunt him (cf. 1 Sam 16:14), and the latter motif expressively depicts the divine rejection of Saul.

xx Introduction

In sharp contrast to Saul, David is not only endowed with the divine spirit (1 Sam 16:13) but it never departs from him; however, no other military leaders or kings are reported to be possessed by the divine spirit after the reign of David. The second religious notion related in tradition to the “heroic age” is the military ḥērem, that is, the total extermination of the enemy (warriors as well as civilians). The military ḥērem is a key concept in the book of Joshua (cf. especially Josh 6–7; see 1.1.1–6; 3.2; 3.3.1.3 below) but it appears in Judges as well (cf. Judg 1:17; 21:11, and especially the discussion on the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter in 1.1.1–6 below). In the case of Saul, breaking the rules of war-ḥērem is presented as the final reason for the divine rejection of Saul (cf. 1 Sam 15; see 1.1.1 and 3.3.1.3 below). It is striking, however, that the last reported case of actually performed full-scale extermination, i.e. of military ḥērem, is connected to the figure of David in the biblical tradition (cf. 1 Sam 30:17). There is no mention of such practice after his reign (but cf. the term ‫איש־חרמי‬, “man of my ḥērem,” in 1 Kgs 20:42). The third religious phenomenon associated with the heroic age is the Urim and Thummim ritual, which is a divinatory technique primarily applied in a military context according to the biblical texts. First of all, the biblical tradition relates the Urim and Thummim military oracle to the figure of Joshua (cf. Num 27:21; see 3.1 below). In the book of Judges, there are several references to the Urim and Thummim ritual (divination before battle; cf. Judg 1:1; 20:18, 23, 27–28; see 3.1 below). In the Saul and David narratives, mentions of the Urim and Thummim ritual occur remarkably often (cf. 1 Sam 10:22; 14:37; 22:10, 13, 15; 23:2, 4; 30:8; 2 Sam 2:1; 5:19, 23–24; 21:1; see 3.1 below). Moreover, in the Saul cycle, divination, communication with the deity (including these cases of Urim and Thummim revelation) functions as the organizing principle of the entire narrative (see 3.3.1.1–4 below). It highlights the succeeding phases of Saul’s career, his rise and his subsequent fall. By contrast, references to divination, more specifically to the Urim and Thummim ritual, serve as a means to confirm the chosen status of David in the books of Samuel. The last performances of the Urim and Thummim ritual are attributed to David (cf. 2 Sam 5:19, 23–24; 21:1). After his reign, no further mention is made of the active usage of the rite. My study does not take for granted that these three religious phenomena correspond to actual beliefs and practices of the premonarchic and early monarchic periods. For present purposes, it is only necessary to observe that biblical tradition associates these beliefs and practices with the

Introduction

xxi

period which Mobley views as a heroic age. It is also relevant for my argumentation that these religious notions and rites predominantly occur in a military context. Hence it seems that biblical tradition closely correlates the so-called period of the conquest (Joshua) and that of the judges (i.e. the premonarchic period) with the time of Saul and that of David, and thus an embracing picture of a heroic age appears to emerge, one “which spans the books of Joshua, Judges and Samuel,” as Mobley (2006, 112) remarks. The present argument thus builds upon Mobley’s thesis and will lend it further support. A question remains, however, concerning my choice of narratives. Why have I chosen these particular stories from all those that make up the books of Judges and Samuel? First, all three stories have a tragic ending, i.e. Jephthah’s daughter, Samson, Saul (and Jonathan) all meet their shocking and violent death in these narratives. Not surprisingly, in her Tragedy and Biblical Narrative, Cheryl Exum treats exactly these three biblical stories – of Jephthah, Samson, and Saul – while adding, by way of contrast, an analysis of David. [Note on the differences: I do not tackle stories concerning David’s family; Exum underlines the comic aspect of the Samson narratives (cf. the trickster characteristics of Samson analyzed in 2.2 below). See Exum 1992, 18–44.] According to most heroic traditions, tragic, violent death (suffered especially during battle and/or through self-sacrifice) is the actual fulfillment of heroic existence. In Greek mythology the greatest of all heroes, Achilles and Heracles, suffer such tragic, heroic death (see Gantz 1996, 457–63, 625–28), and in Greek history Leonidas, who “sacrificed himself” in the battle of Thermopylae, was considered a great hero (Cartledge 2003). [On the hero worship of some Greeks killed on the battlefield, see, e.g., Farnell 1921, 362–3; cf. the hero cult of Spartan kings, Cartledge 2003]. The greatest heroes, as a rule, do not die peacefully. While Jephthah’s daughter is not herself a warrior, she is a warrior’s daughter, and her self-sacrificial death is the key to victory against the Ammonites. Not only is she a “reward” given to YHWH, the real victor (Judg 11:30–31), but her self-dedication to the deity ensures that the enemy’s defeat is long-term, since it brings about her people’s reconciliation with YHWH who was responsible for the Ammonite threat in the first place (Judg 10:6–7) (see 1.3.7–8 below). She also proves to be another sort of heroine, in a “war between the sexes” (cf. Bal 1988, e.g. p. 1), a legendary heroine who represents the female side of a patriarchal society (cf. “daughters of Israel,” Judg 11:40), by winning the claim to an exclusively female ritual. She achieves this victory not by violent means

xxii Introduction

but by balancing the claims of YHWH, her father and herself through becoming an eternal heroine belonging to the deity (Judg 11:31; see further below). Thus her participation in both military and ritual spheres leads to her becoming an “institution” in Israel (Judg 11:39: Hebrew ‫חק‬, ḥōq, “law/prescription/custom”), and thus the greatest of all female heroines in Judges and in Israel (see 1.3.7–8 below). These heroes – Jephthah’s daughter, Samson, and Saul – excel above others not only due to their heroic death. It has been mentioned above that it is a characteristic feature of biblical heroes that their heroism is based on their relationship with the deity. Samson is without doubt the superhero of Judges in all respects, and he has the closest relationship with the deity: on the earlier mythological level of the story it might have been even a father–son relationship (see 2.2 below), not to mention that he is dedicated to the deity and also endowed and moved by the divine spirit. (The traces of the divine paternity motif were not eradicated from the text, but the pattern is reinterpreted inasmuch as it is definitely stated at the end of the cycle that Samson rests in the tomb of his human father, Manoah, cf. Judg 16:31. Unlike his Greek counterpart Heracles, Samson does not become deified after his death. Therefore, the semi-divine heroic quality of his personality is overshadowed by the fact that the biblical text presents him as a mere mortal at the end of his career; see 2.3.5 below.) Yet, as has been discussed above, all these heroes have a close relationship with the deity, which appears in various forms. Still, over and above all other heroes, through their heroic death and self-sacrifice, Jephthah’s daughter and Samson establish the closest possible relationship with the deity. They gain access to the holy sphere, so to speak: Jephthah’s daughter will be YHWH’s in her sacrifice, her self-dedication (cf. Judg 11:31; see 1.1.7 and 1.2 below). Likewise when fulfilling his divinely ordained mission by his death (cf. Judg 13:5b; 16:30) Samson dedicates himself totally to the deity in his self-sacrifice (his first dedication at his conception is initiated by the deity and performed by his mother; in his self-sacrifice, he offers himself, see 2.3.7 below). Consequently, Jephthah’s daughter and Samson embody the summit of female and male heroism respectively, through their heroic death and the ensuing unsurpassable relationship with the deity. Moreover, Jephthah’s daughter, becoming a “law/prescription/ custom in Israel” through her sacrifice, even embodies the true YHWH worship within the framework of a female ritual (see 1.2; 1.3.7 and 1.3.8 below). Initially, Saul also has a similarly close connection with the deity (see above; cf. his special Nazarite dedication to YHWH in the Saul cycle, see 3.3.1.1 below), and, like Samson, Saul excels above all other heroes even

Introduction

xxiii

physically, Saul’s distinctive feature is his exceedingly outstanding stature (see above). However, it is precisely his greatness that makes Saul’s fall all the more striking, that makes his death tragic. It is the downfall of a great hero – he falls from high above “to the earth” (also literally, cf. 1 Sam 28:20aα), and his relationship with the deity completely and irrevocably breaks down. In this context, his demise can be interpreted as a negative heroic death, since his suicide does not lead to a closer relationship with God. On the contrary, his suicide consummates and symbolizes the total and final breakdown of the relationship between Saul and the deity (see 3.3.1.4 below). Within biblical heroic tradition, Saul is one of the greatest heroes. His stories actually demonstrate the greatest downfall that can befall a hero. (Abimelech also fails in every respect, but he is far from being a prominent hero among the judges [see Judg 9]. However, cf. the “heroic downfall,” the madness and suicide of Aias Telamonides, who is regarded in the Odyssey as the second greatest hero among the Achaeans after Achilles; cf. Odyssey 11.469–70, 548–51 and Sophocles’ Aias; see Gantz 1996, 629–35.) The figure of David completes and closes the heroic age, so to speak. He is also an excellent hero, but he embodies a different type from that represented by Samson and by Saul. It is an emphatic point in David’s description that, in sharp contrast to Saul, David definitely does not excel in height (cf. 1 Sam 16:7, 11 and ch. 17). The story of David and Goliath particularly highlights that David represents a heroic type totally different from the giant (i.e. enormously tall) heroes and those whose dominantly characteristic feature is their superhuman strength, although David is also a mighty warrior, a gibbôr ḥayil (cf. 1 Sam 16:18; 17:34–36). By contrast, David is not only good-looking (1 Sam 16:12, 18) but, as a hero, his principal characteristic is that he is “prudent in speech” (16:18) and altogether astute (cf. his behaviour in his conflicts with Goliath, Saul, and Achish in 1 Sam 17–27; cf. also “clever Odysseus” and the contrast between him and the greatest heroes of the Achaeans, Achilles and Aias; concerning his conflict with Aias, see Odyssey 11.548–51). David’s “prudence in speech” and sagacity strongly resemble the characteristic features of another gibbôr ḥayil: Jephthah is a mighty hero who can be described as a prominent negotiator and a very astute character (cf. Judg 11:7–31; see 1.1.6 and n. 76 below), although it is worthwhile to mention that he is a far less significant hero than David. (Cf. also the cunning conduct of Saul when taking his oath, see 3.3.1.3 below; cf. also the trickster features of Samson, see 2.2 below; however, the chief characteristic of Samson and Saul is superhuman strength and extremely prominent stature, respectively.)

xxiv Introduction

Over and above all his other qualities, David has an especially close relationship with God: right at the beginning of his story it is reckoned among his characteristic features that “YHWH is with him” (1 Sam 16:18). In the David stories the motif of divination highlights that, in contrast with Saul, David never loses contact with the deity. He keeps his strong relationship with YHWH by frequently consulting the deity, who, in return, favours David (see 3.3.2 below). Most importantly, David does not suffer a tragic, heroic death – this is a marked difference which distinguishes him from the other three great heroes, from Jephthah’s daughter, Samson, and Saul. Rather than dying a heroic death, David founds a dynasty on the basis of his stable relationship with the deity, while this opportunity is not given to any of the other three heroes. Heroic death, the ideal fulfilment of a heroic life, does not seem to be compatible with the foundation of a dynasty. Presumably, it is not by chance that the greatest heroes, who suffer a heroic death, either die without offspring (cf. Jephthah’s daughter and Samson) or their “house,” i.e. their future dynasty perishes as well, just as it happens to Saul and his family (cf. 1 Sam 31; 2 Sam 1–4; 21). (The minor judges, some of whom are said to have an extensive family, are definitely not portrayed in Judges as great heroes; they are treated as “minor” characters in every respect; cf. Judg 10:3–5; 12:8–10, 13–15. On the other hand, Gideon’s “dynasty” perishes, as does Saul’s; cf. Judg 8:22–9:57.) The last typical, “classical” great hero, the representative of the physically excelling warrior type, is Saul; phenomenal strength (cf. Samson) and fury are typical features of these “classical” great heroes. Fury suffuses them when fighting (cf. Samson in Judg 14:19, and Saul in 1 Sam 11:6; cf. also the fury of Achilles, see, e.g., Iliad 22.344–54) and sometimes even in a peaceful situation (cf. the motif of Saul’s madness in 1 Sam 16:14–23; 18:8–11; 19:9–10; cf. also the madness of Aias, see above). It is not only the funeral song of mourning for Saul and Jonathan that signals the end of the heroic age (cf. 2 Sam 1:17–27, see above). After the account on the execution of Saul’s descendants (2 Sam 21:1–14), there follows a list of David’s gibbôrîm and their exploits (2 Sam 21:15–22 and 23:8–39), and this is the very last text which treats the deeds of “heroes” in the classical sense. It can be regarded as a summary of typical heroic feats and the very end of the heroic age. By contrast, at the beginning of the books of Kings, Solomon is depicted as a young king who is decidedly not a gibbôr, not at all a hero or warrior type (cf. 1 Kgs 3:7; see Mobley 2006, 112); he excels, however, in wisdom (cf. 1 Kgs 3).

Introduction

xxv

Summarizing the above discussion, the narratives about Jephthah’s daughter, Samson, and Saul are found close together within the corpus of biblical heroic tradition and they relate the stories of the greatest heroes (cf. the motif of tragic, heroic death, and their particularly close relationship with the deity). Jephthah’s daughter and Samson embody the summit of female and male heroism respectively, and their stories (their self-sacrifice and “union” with the deity) represent the pinnacle of heroic literature within the book of Judges; their narratives are coupled with each other and found one after the other in the book. Like Jephthah’s daughter and Samson, Saul also dies a tragic death, and his figure and deeds strongly resemble the character and the feats of Samson in many respects (see above). Nevertheless, the story of Saul – one of the greatest heroes – demonstrates the greatest possible downfall that can befall a hero (i.e. becoming totally detached from the deity), and thus Saul’s downfall marks the decline of the heroic age. On the other hand, his counterpart, David, who is also a remarkably great hero, represents a heroic type that is radically different from the “classical” pattern of great heroes, and thus the figure of David completes and concludes the heroic era. All in all, the present study will investigate the narratives and figures of the greatest heroes in biblical heroic tradition. The last issue to be treated in this introduction is the question of methodology: what sort of methods and systems will be applied in the present study to analyze these narratives. First of all, I found the theory and concepts of Jan Assmann formulated in his book on cultural memory very useful during my research (see Assmann 2007). However, it is important to pinpoint that – as is mentioned below – his ideas about cultural memory are very far from being the only relevant method to treat these issues. Yet adopting his approach has proved to be an especially adequate way for analyzing these texts. Besides, his clear terminology and systematization of concepts help to present what the key points and interests of my study are. The myths, legendary stories, and the rites (and festivals) are the primary forms of cultural memory that serve as basic means for a community to systematize its collective memory. According to Jan Assmann (2007, 56–57) the rites performed by the community are considered to ensure the stability of the world order at this primary level of cultural memory; the network of rituals, the ritual coherence, provides the basis for the interpretation of their society and the universe. Myth and rite, text and physical presentation, are intimately connected to each other (see, e.g., Fontenrose 1966), and it has been a matter of debate which is the primary and which

xxvi Introduction

is the secondary (cf. also, e.g., Lévi-Strauss 1955, who regarded myth as an individual cultural phenomenon). Many rituals have their own foundation legend or myth, and their interrelation seems to resemble a classical chickenand-egg problem. Therefore the present study does not tackle the question of priority between rites and myths/legends. My investigation merely takes as its starting point the fact that many rituals function in interrelationship with their foundation legends/myths and they are commemorated together (cf. especially the first chapter about Jephthah’s daughter). Besides, more basic components can be discerned within the structure of myths and rites respectively (and in any product of the collective memory). These basic elements – the ideas and symbols – are interpreted as the “figures of memory” (Erinnerungsfiguren) by Assmann (2007, 38), referring to Maurice Halbwachs. These notions and symbols are very effective basic components of the memorizing process, since, as Assmann claims and as it can be observed below, the ideas and motifs often recall a picture (a symbol) as well in one’s mind, and the two aspects seem to be memorized together as an inseparable unit. The motifs and symbols which appear in myths, legendary stories, and rites have been explored and systematized, for example, in folklore, comparative religious studies, and anthropology. One of the best examples of this work is the Motif-Index of Folk-Literature by Stith Thompson, which will be frequently referred to in the present study. In anthropology, the research on symbols is an essential study (see, e.g., Sherry B. Ortner [1973], E. E. Evans-Pritchard [1956], Victor Turner [1967], and Claude Lévi-Strauss [1949], who have thoroughly discussed the different aspects of the problem [cf. also S. K. Langer 1942]). A well-known work that treats the subject from the perspective of comparative religious studies is Images et symboles by Mircea Eliade (1952). The previous results of folklore, comparative religious studies, and anthropology have also considerably contributed to my research. All these relevant data and references will be given in each section of the study. Motifs and symbols can occur either in literary (cf. especially myths/ legends) or in iconographical context (cf., e.g., rituals). The religious notions/concepts systematized in several tables throughout the study can also appear in literary context, and sometimes they may have had some iconographic manifestation. Still, the major concern of my study is the identification of these religious notions as theological ideas – which are necessarily much more complex than a mere motif – and their systematization within a theological framework presented in the book of Judges (and the Deuteronomistic History).

Introduction

xxvii

It is worthwhile to mention that motifs and symbols never appear in themselves, but they form more complex units which together constitute the structure of myths, legendary stories or rites. Beside the primary level represented by rituals and myths, another level of cultural memory in the system of Assmann is the written and later even canonized form of sacred texts and their interpretation. In these texts one can discern, however, many motifs and symbols well-known from myths, folklore stories, and rites. The “figures of memory” appear at both levels of the cultural memory. Thus the results of folklore studies, anthropology, and comparative religious studies may promote the better understanding of those symbols and motifs that are commemorated in the written, canonized texts, and which are sometimes difficult to interpret for the modern reader. This approach may also provide an opportunity to observe which motifs were memorized in their presumed earlier form and which ones were possibly deleted, forgotten, or reinterpreted by the authors of the written and canonized text. I will attempt to reconstruct the possible myths, legendary stories which lie at the core of the present biblical narratives, and I will contrast each presumed basic story with the final version of each biblical text, thus highlighting the process of memoralization and the relation between the two levels of cultural memory, i.e. the ritual coherence (represented by rites and myths/legendary stories) and the textual coherence (manifesting itself in the written, canonized biblical texts). This latter approach can be understood as a diachronic one. Yet the thorough analysis of the final biblical text – sometimes using the methods of narratology – represents a completely different trend of research: it is a synchronic examination. By using different systems one can present complex readings of the stories. This handling of the texts was inspired by the proposal of Louis C. Jonker, which was put forward in his study “Samson in Double Vision: Judg 13–16 from Historical-Critical and Narrative Perspectives.” As Jonker (1992, 58) notes, “A complementary approach to exegesis should consider both the historical development and the literary qualities of the text.” The observations from different perspectives concern the one and the same text, therefore it is logical that the conclusions obtained by the methods of the individual fields respectively can be observed together as well, providing an integrated reading of the narrative. This complex approach may promote a better understanding of the texts. It may illuminate such problematic points of the stories that cannot plausibly be interpreted by examining them from one perspective alone. It appears particularly profitable to employ this integrated approach in the case of the story of Jephthah’s daughter, since it is such a complex text, full of controversial issues.

xxviii Introduction

Keeping in view the rules of methodology, the present study consistently endeavours to remain within the domain of a certain field, applying properly the paradigms of that field when observing the texts from that particular perspective. In each of the following chapters, the topically relevant methods will be applied, as appropriate, to the material under discussion. That is why the applied methods will vary from chapter to chapter, since the biblical texts are differently structured and they revolve around different forms of cultural memory. For instance, the narrative of Jephthah’s daughter is structured around certain rituals, namely sacrifice, dedication by vow, and a female ritual, and the entire composition of the text (presumably both of the earlier legendary story and of the present biblical narrative) is constructed around the commemoration of these rituals (note that myth – i.e. mythical/legendary story – and ritual are intimately connected and mutually dependent on each another, see above). On the other hand, in the Samson cycle, the absolutely key element, the thread of the entire narrative, is the hair motif (to which the notion of Nazirite dedication is related). This is the absolutely essential “figure of memory” (a motif, a symbol) which structures the presumed basic legendary story as well as the present biblical text. Finally, the Saul cycle is centred around the theme of divination, i.e. divinatory rituals (again, it must be noted here that rituals can be commemorated in myths/legendary stories, just as myths can be commemorated in the performance of rituals; cf. the relation between myth and ritual mentioned above). Therefore, Chapter 3 will focus on the examination of oracular rituals and their “memory” in the Saul cycle and in certain texts about David.

Chapter 1 T he S a c r i f i c e of J ep h t h ah ’ s D aught e r *

1.1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter and the Notion of ḥērem The narrative relating the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter is one of the most intriguing, provocative, and problematic passages in the Hebrew Bible. It is not surprising that it has long puzzled scholars, quite a few of whom have scrutinized this curious passage from various different perspectives. The first chapter of the present study aims at focusing on the key questions raised by this biblical text, and attempts to provide plausible answers to them. The main issues of this investigation will be the rites commemorated in the text: sacrifice, dedication by vow, and a female-only ritual. Judges 11:29–40 supplies the account of Jephthah’s sacrifice of his daughter. This is the only manifest account in the Hebrew Bible about a human sacrifice offered to YHWH in Israel.1 Deciding how to interpret this narrative has proven extremely problematic, not least since many texts in Deuteronomy and the wider Deuteronomistic History explicitly condemn child sacrifice. And yet, there is no clear condemnation of Jephthah’s sacrifice.2 In the biblical text one really cannot find an outright judgment on Jephthah’s action. Biblical scholars have therefore had to grapple with the text in an effort to find a solution. Gerhard von Rad provided one prominent explanation. According to him, as a consequence of Jephthah’s sacrifice the charismatic leaders of Israel (Jephthah included) *  This chapter is a modified version of the Kamrada 2009 and 2010. 1.  There are other passages about human sacrifices offered to YHWH (Mic 6:6, 7; perhaps Jer 7:31; Ezek 20:25, 26), but these seem to be quite general allusions, not proper, direct, and unambiguous narratives. Gen 22 relates a complete story, but, as is well-known, in the end Isaac survives. An animal is sacrificed in his place. For a systematic treatment of the problem of child sacrifice in Israel, see Heider 1985. 2.  Cf. Lev 18:21; 20:2–5; Deut 12:31; 18:10; 2 Kgs 16:3; 17:17, 31; 21:6; 23:10; Mic 6:7; etc. I do not deal here with the question of whether the terms ‫ העביר באש‬and ‫נתן למלך‬ actually refer to child sacrifice; see Weinfeld 1972 for a discussion.

2

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

fall into decline in the pessimistic view of the Deuteronomist (von Rad 1957). David Janzen has expressed a very similar view about the biblical presentation of Jephthah (Janzen 2005). On the other hand, we have a reference within the Deuteronomistic History which mentions Jephthah in a definitely positive context: 1 Sam 12:11 portrays him as one of the deliverers of Israel. Thomas Römer has offered an interesting explanation of the Jephthah account. According to him, the problem with the positive evaluation of Jephthah can be resolved by assuming that the story about a human sacrifice offered by Jephthah is a Hellenistic insertion into the Deuteronomistic History (Römer 1998). As interesting as Römer’s theory may be, it has not found wide acceptance. For instance, in his Judges commentary, Serge Frolov argues against it: he does not see an irreconcilable tension between the remark that Jephthah has a house and daughter in Mizpah and the fact that it is not mentioned before or after (“nothing in the account of Jephthah’s banishment suggests that he had no family of his own”; Frolov 2013, 213). In a similar vein, Alice Logan points out that Römer’s reconstruction, which postulates that “the vow sequence in Judges 11:30–31” forms “a redactional interruption between vv. 29 and 33” (Römer 1998, 28), does not take into account the literary structure of the text. Logan states that there is a “fundamental relationship between vv. 30–31 and vv. 32–33” (Logan 2009, 677 n. 35). According to her reading, the structure of the text actually suggests that after Jephthah makes his vow, the overwhelming victory given by the deity implies that “YHWH more than upheld his end of the bargain. It is now incumbent on Jephthah to uphold his.” Mikael Sjöberg’s analysis adds further support to this reading: he has pointed out that the real climax of the Jephthah narrative is the story of his daughter (though the logically central event is the victory over the Ammonites; Sjöberg 2006, 28). Being such a crucial element, it seems quite inconceivable that the story of Jephthah’s daughter would ever not have been included in the Jephthah narrative. Moreover, the folklore parallels also point to this interpretation. Many commentators draw attention to the fact that the story bears a very strong resemblance to certain patterns that are well-known from folk literature. Peggy L. Day (1989, 67 n. 1) cites Stith Thompson’s Motif Index of Folk-Literature (1955–58), in which one can find this particular folk motif: “S 241 Homecomer’s Vow: Child unwittingly promised” (see also S 242–47). Frolov gives a detailed description of this phenomenon and the relevant literature (see Frolov 2013, 212). Bernard Robinson (2004, 334) directly calls the episode about Jephthah’s daughter a “type-scene.” Even Römer admits that the story “contains numerous motifs which can

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

3

be found in folk literature all over the world” (Römer 1998, 33). Day and Römer refer to the work of W. Baumgartner (1915), T. H. Gaster (1969, 430–33, 534–35), D. Marcus (1986, 40–41), and J. A. Soggin (1981, 216–18). Römer suggests that the Iphigenia legend was the archetype for the tale of Jephthah’s daughter, whereas Day treats the Iphigenia legend as a (folk) parallel and not as an archetype for the story of Jephthah’s daughter (see Day 1989, 60–62, 65–66). Day’s argumentation seems the more convincing, since, aside from the undeniable similarities, there are also great differences between the two storylines (not to mention the fact that only one source specifies a vow as being the reason for Iphigenia’s sacrifice: Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides, 15–25). For instance, the vow of Agamemnon concerns offspring yet to be born, while Jephthah’s vow is about his offering of the first things he sees upon coming back from war. The (real or replaced) sacrifice of Iphigenia is carried out far from her home and before the Trojan war in every version of the legend (Gantz 1993, 582–88), whereas Jephthah fulfils his vow at home, after the war, and as a result of his military success. Taking into account the differences between the stories, the direct borrowing from Greek tradition can hardly be proved. It seems that the two legends apply as much motif variety as any two works of folk-literature that represent by and large the same pattern. More recent studies propose that the “Beauty and the Beast” and similar folktales represent the closest possible parallel to the story of Jephthah’s daughter (see Niditch 2008, 133–35; Frolov 2013, 212). Being widely known and very popular, this tale appears in different versions in folk literature and mythology (cf., e.g., tales 31, 88, and 108 in the Grimm collection [Grimm 1985]: Das Mädchen ohne Hände; Das singende, springende Löweneckerchen; and Hans mein Igel; cf. also some Hungarian folktales, such as Ördög Jánoska; A sündisznó; and A rózsa in Benedek 2001, 286–91, 343–47, 47–54). It is a distinctive feature of the “Beauty and the Beast” tale that it always intertwines two different storylines: these narratives always feature a main male character, either a father or a brother (sometimes a husband), who faces a serious crisis situation (often war or mortal danger); and they feature a main female character who – after a confrontation with her father/brother – has to die either literally or symbolically (i.e. she is given away). In other words, the “male world,” the military realm, is integrally related to the motif of the death of a young female within this folk pattern. The Iphigenia legend also gives a good example of the same phenomenon. Thus, as alluded to above, the folk parallels also support the hypothesis that the story of Jephthah’s daughter is not a later insertion but forms an integral part of the Jephthah narrative.

4

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

It is also worthwhile to note that the motif of female-only ritual referred to at the end of the episode (Judg 11:38–40) also appears in relation to some parallel folk/legendary stories. The best known example is the Iphigenia story that relates to a female initiation rite performed in Brauron (Day 1989, 61–62; Römer 1998, 35–36). Furthermore, one can find a legendary story in Livy (1.26) which shares many parallel features with the Jephthah narrative (cf. Dionysius of Halicarnassus 3.21–22). The initial situation is war. The main male character, Horatius, manages to insure Roman victory at the cost of the death of three Alban warriors, one of whom is his prospective brother-in-law. Upon returning home, Horatius has to face his sister, Horatia, who comes out to greet him, shedding tears over the tragic death of her fiancé. Overcome by his sudden rage, Horatius stabs his sister, which results in Horatia joining her fiancé in death. H. J. Rose connects this story to a reconstructed female initiation ritual (cf. the rite mentioned at the end of the Roman story with Festus 380 [L]; see Rose 1925, 406–14). To sum up the above analysis, the last-mentioned stories combine a male (military) storyline with the motif of a young woman’s death. Notably, this pattern also connects to a female (initiation) ritual. In view of this argumentation, I deduce that the story of Jephthah’s daughter fits in with the context of the Jephthah narrative. According to this reconstruction, the story of Jephthah and that of his daughter probably formed a narrative unit as a folk tradition. On the other hand, the present written text of the Jephthah narrative clearly shows signs of some redactional work, such as the introduction in Judg 10:6–16 (in all probability a Deuteronomistic addition; cf., e.g., Soggin 1981, 201), and the report about the negotiations between Jephthah and the Ammonites (with pentateuchal references; cf. 11:12–28, and see Frolov 2013, 218). (The rest of the narrative – 12:1–7 – and its relation to the bulk of the whole story will be discussed in section 1.3 below.) Returning to the initial question posed above, in the following pages I will attempt to resolve the problem of a human sacrifice going uncriticized in a text that belongs to the Deuteronomistic History, a work which otherwise repeatedly asserts harsh criticism against such a practice. I will examine whether the text can be plausibly interpreted within the Deuteronomistic ideas. A central point in the text is the notion of nēder (‫)נדר‬,3 a word which means “vow.” That such a vow is irrevocable is made clear in the narrative – Jephthah, the commander, cannot take back his vow. This 3.  Judg 11:30a: ‫וידר יפתח נדר ליהוה‬. For this problem, see Marcus 1986; Tita 2001, 95–104; Cartledge 1992, 175–85.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

5

understanding of vows fits in perfectly with Deuteronomic concepts (cf. Deut 23:22–24).4 In addition, one can find the systematization of types of vow/consecration in Lev 27. While this is a priestly text – and actually probably a late appendix, though we do not know the date of the origins of the tradition5 – what cannot be denied is that there is one among the types of consecration listed in Lev 27 which is definitely irrevocable and, what is more, irredeemable: the category of things offered to YHWH as a so-called ḥērem (‫)חרם‬, mentioned in v. 28. From this text the question arises whether Jephthah’s irrevocable and probably irredeemable offering is a ḥērem dedication.6 Both Susan Niditch and Alice Logan have argued for this interpretation, namely that Jephthah made a ḥērem dedication (see Niditch 2008, 133; Logan 2009, 671ff.). Niditch (1993, 34) claims that “the offering [of Jephthah’s daughter] is also linked with a war-vow and related therefore to the ḥērem tradition” (see also Niditch 1993, 33; cf. Num 21:2). It is questionable whether ḥērem could be regarded as a type of vow (see Milgrom 2001, 2367, 2408 – in Lev 27 only vv. 1–13 deal with vows; and Cartledge 1992, 36, 137). Still, what is relevant here is that ḥērem (“ban”) can be the object of a vow, although it is not the vow itself (cf. Num 21:2; see Cartledge 1992, 137; Milgrom 2001, 2391). The sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter is not equivalent to the vow either: it is the object of the vow. Thus, we can observe a point of essential resemblance between the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter and ḥērem (“ban”), namely that they both are (or can be) the object of a vow, and, moreover, within a military context. To put it another way, both are/can be the object of a war-vow (see Niditch above). Vows must be fulfilled according to ancient Near Eastern beliefs – i.e. they are irrevocable – and this belief is shared by the Deuteronomic–Deuterono­ mistic tradition (cf. Deut 23:22–24; see n. 4 above and n. 95 below; cf. also Eccl 5:3–4). Therefore, the irrevocable character of Jephthah’s vow is a feature that is inherent in the very nature of all ancient Near Eastern and biblical vows, including those which offer a ḥērem dedication. Moreover, in the story of Jephthah’s vow the offered person seems to be irredeemable, since no money or animal offering is accepted as a replacement (in contrast 4.  Cf. Judg 11:35b, with the Deuteronomic idea of the general irrevocable nature of vows formulated in Deut 23:22–24. On its ancient Near Eastern background, see n. 95. 5.  Milgrom 2001, 2407–9. As is well-known, in the scholarly debate about the age of traditions in the Leviticus, a number of scholars have emphasized the possible antiquity of the material; see, e.g., Kaufmann 1961b; Haran 1978; Milgrom 1976; Hurvitz 1974. 6.  Marcus (1986, 66 n. 79) mentions that the medieval Jewish commentator Nahman­ ides already knew of – and rejected – this theory.

6

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to Lev 27:1–8 and Gen 22:13). The irredeemable nature of the offering – that the dedicated person/object cannot be replaced with some kind of substitute – is a distinctive feature of the ḥērem consecration as well (cf. Lev 27:28, Josh 6:17–19; 7:21–26; 1 Sam 15:3, 18–22, 33; 1 Kgs 20:42). One can conclude that, in terms of at least four key factors, the offering of Jephthah’s daughter corresponds to the characteristic features of ḥērem dedication: they are both irrevocable, irredeemable, (can be) the object of a vow, and appear within a military context. The following discussion will thoroughly investigate every possible aspect of this correspondence between the two phenomena, and it attempts to answer the question whether the offering of Jephthah’s daughter can indeed be identified as a ḥērem dedication. 1.1.1. War-ḥērem and the Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter The classical form of ḥērem is well-known from the Hebrew Bible, mainly from Deuteronomistic texts. There, however, it functions primarily as a military concept. The most famous case of war-ḥērem is related to the capture of Jericho in Josh 6. Here the commander, Joshua, assigned the town and the people of Jericho to be ḥērem, namely to be destroyed for the sake of YHWH. This kind of ḥērem is often interpreted as a military ban or curse.7 In the Deuteronomistic History, ḥērem formed part of a scheme: it fulfilled a function in the theological systematization of the conquest, namely that the whole population of Canaan was to be exterminated by order of YHWH.8 Having noted this, it is important to consider that the physical destruction of Jericho in the Late Bronze Age has not been confirmed by any archaeological evidence. As such, this element of “the biblical story…cannot have been founded on genuine historical sources.”9 Consequently, we are left to wonder whether the war-ḥērem might actually be a Deuteronomistic invention. As it happens, an inscription commissioned by the ninth-century BCE Moabite king, Mesha, proves this “Deuteronomistic invention” theory to be wrong. Looking at the so-called Mesha Stele, not only do we find the same verb form being used (a cognate form of ‫ חרם‬Hiphil), but also the king describes exactly what he means by this term – the annihilation of the entire population of Nebo, the only town offered as a ḥērem. More interesting still is that, later in the stele text, Nebo is the only town whose 7.  “Ban” is a common English term used to render ḥērem; see, e.g., Malamat 1966, 40–49. “Curse” is another frequent translation; see Josh 6:17, 18 in KJV (“accursed”). In contrast, NRSV uses the term “devoted to destruction.” 8.  Lohfink 1982, 209–12. 9.  Dever 2003, 47.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

7

resettlement or rebuilding (or anything else about its further history) is not mentioned.10 It may be that ḥērem dedications excluded rebuilding (cf. Deut 13:16–17). Indeed, according to Josh 6:26 and 1 Kgs 16:3 a curse was pronounced on anyone who might rebuild Jericho. Stanislav Segert claimed that the ḥērem scheme described in the Mesha Inscription corresponds to the ḥērem usage scheme of many texts in the books of Deuteronomy and Joshua.11 We may conclude from all this that war-ḥērem was probably a genuine custom in the region, a common practice and a common tradition shared by some peoples, and not only a Deuteronomistic invention.12 Related to this, Abraham Malamat has drawn attention to the institution of asakkum in Mari, which has some features in common with ḥērem.13 The Deuteronomistic History applied the ḥērem scheme to the age of the conquest of Canaan, and in so doing confined the usage of ḥērem to this age. After the time of David, there is no further mention of the Israelites using the war-ḥērem. This detail may indicate that this exceptional military custom in its archaic, cruel form was operative only in the earlier times of Israel.14 Caution is needed here, however, as some scholars (notably Walter Dietrich [1996, 202–9]) have argued that war-ḥērem was still actually used time and again in the middle period of the Israelite monarchy too (cf. 1 Kgs 20:35–43; 1 Sam 15 and the Mesha Inscription; see n. 21 below.) It seems that military ḥērem fits the narrative of Jephthah’s irrevocable vow and his sacrifice. There are notable common features: both this type of ḥērem and Jephthah’s deed are related to a war situation; Jephthah takes a vow and war-ḥērem can also be caused by a vow;15 both war-ḥērem and the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter are dedicated to the deity;16 and, 10.  See Lohfink (1982, 202–3). About the capture and annihilation of Nebo, which is mentioned in lines 14–17 of the Mesha Stele, see Jackson and Dearman (1989), Jackson (1989), and Routledge (2000) with a translation of the Mesha text. 11.  Segert 1961, 238–39. 12.  Dietrich (1996, 204) claims that “The idea of devotion to ban is not an invention of the exilic period.” 13.  Malamat 1966. Another Mesopotamian parallel: the idea of consecration to the gods through destruction appears in an old Babylonian inscription, see Stern 1991, 39–40. Cf. especially the possible Sabaean parallel with biblical ḥērem: the same root (‫ )חרם‬with probably the same meaning (“dedicated to destruction”), see Monroe 2007, 326–35. 14.  The last report of a war-ḥērem action by Israelites is the narrative of 1 Sam 30, which treats David’s campaign against the Amalekites. While ‫ חרם‬appears in v. 17, the reading is questionable. 15.  Cf. Num 21:2. ḥērem as a punishment preceded by an oath; see Judg 21:5, 11. 16.  The term ‫ ליהוה‬is used in both cases; cf. Judg 11:31 with Josh 6:17 and even with line 17 in the Mesha Inscription (‫לעשתר כמש החרמתה‬, that is “I devoted it to AshtarKemosh,” see n. 10).

8

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moreover, both Jephthah’s vow and the war-ḥērem result in death. There is even a close structural similarity between the vow for war-ḥērem in Num 21:2 and Jephhtah’s vow, as David Marcus has pointed out.17 What is more, Cartledge (1992, 178–79) has drawn attention to the present context of Judg 11:30 and that of Num 21:2: the latter vow for war-ḥērem is found precisely among those traditions to which Jephthah refers in his negotiations with the Ammonites. The connection is apparent, and the reader can easily associate the two texts (cf. Judg 11:13–26 with Num 20–21).18 And yet, however much similarity one can discern between war-ḥērem and Jephthah’s dedication, a problem still arises: war-ḥērem – that is, the scornful extermination of the enemy – cannot be identical with Jephthah’s deed, for Jephthah offers a person as a sacrifice, none other than his own beloved daughter, and not a hateful enemy. In terms of terminology, the text is clear: it refers to an ‫עולה‬, which is a type of sacrifice.19 Norbert Lohfink has pointed to a text which shows that sacrifice and war-ḥērem were not identical but, quite the opposite, contrasted one with the other.20 We can read in 1 Sam 15 (vv. 15–23) that, according to Samuel, YHWH does not consider the sacrifice (the ‫ )זבח‬of captured animals to be an acceptable alternative to destroying them as a ḥērem.21 Lohfink argues that the sphere of holiness, to which, naturally, the sacrifice belongs, is a kind of counter-sphere to ḥērem.22 In his opinion Josh 7 also represents this concept: the text is about the ritual sin of Achan who offends against war-ḥērem, and Joshua consecrates (with the verb ‫ )קדש‬the people of 17.  Marcus 1986, 18–19; also Niditch 1993, 33. 18.  It is to be noted that Marcus (1986, 19) notes a difference between the two vows in Num 21:2 and Judg 11:30. The protases of both are practically identical, but the apodoses seem to be different: on one hand, war-ḥērem; on the other, sacrifice. 19.  Judg 11:31: ‫והעליתהו עולה‬. 20.  Lohfink 1982, 197. 21.  The main body of the text is probably of prophetic origin (perhaps from the middle period of the monarchy), and therefore much later than the time when this campaign of Saul’s against the Amalekites might really have taken place, yet still in an age when war-ḥērem might have persisted (cf. n. 14). See also Dietrich 1987, 10–25; Stern 1989; McCarter, Jr. 1980, 270; Lohfink 1982, 207. Against this dating, see, e.g., Edelman (1986, 75, 79), who argues that it depends on certain Deuteronomistic ideas. But even if the composition of the text were later, dependent on Deuteronomy, it is informative for this study, since our main interest is in investigating the possible Deuteronomistic attitude to sacrifice and ḥērem: it may help to interpret the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter within the Deuteronomistic History (cf. n. 2). However, the Deuteronomists probably used much more ancient ideas (cf. nn. 12, 23, 29, 55). 22.  Lohfink 1982, 197: “Gegensphäre.”

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

9

Israel, so as to be able to remove the ḥērem from their midst (v. 13).23 Thus, if holiness, and so sacrifice, is the counter-sphere to ḥērem, then the sacrifice offered by Jephthah cannot have anything to do with war-ḥērem. 1.1.2. The Positive ḥērem Consecration and the Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter Nevertheless, war-ḥērem understood as a completely negative notion, as the scornful extermination of the enemy, is not the only type of ḥērem. Turning to Lev 27:28, we see that this text concerns another type of ḥērem. Here, the notion is of irrevocable consecration in the positive sense: the text does not describe ḥērem as a counter-sphere to holiness; on the contrary, it calls ḥērem “exceedingly holy” (‫)קדש־קדשים‬. This kind of ḥērem consecration involves offering something of one’s own to the deity (a positive offering). Most notably, this ḥērem offering appears in the context of sacrificial vows. Indeed, elsewhere in Lev 27, in vv. 9–10, we are told that clean animals dedicated by a vow remained in the possession of the sanctuary, that they became holy for ever, that they were irredeemable, and that they were sacrificed.24 Another parallel to v. 28 is found in v. 21: here it is clear that to become holy often means to pass into the possession of the priests or the sanctuary, and that is precisely what happened to the fields devoted to YHWH as ḥērem (the whole chapter concerns gifts to the sanctuary).25 In all likelihood, the persons offered positively as a ḥērem in v. 28 survived. Since sacrifice is not mentioned at all, in all probability they became slaves for the sanctuary, so they became exceedingly holy (‫ )קדש־קדשים‬in this way.26 Of particular interest is the beginning of Lev 27, which discusses vows and consecrations, and, importantly, the possibility of dedicated people being redeemed by money (vv. 1–8). The ḥērem consecration, however, was the exception – in this case, redemption was impossible, and that is why these people became, so to speak, slaves of holiness. This irredeemable and irrevocable nature of the ḥērem consecrations (and of the offerable animals’ dedication in vv. 9–10, 26, 32–33) may remind us of Jephthah’s sacrifice.27 23.  W. Dietrich (1996, 200) considers it to be a “late Deuteronomistic didactic narrative,” while Lohfink (1982, 207) places this depiction of ‫ חרם‬among the pre-Deuteronomistic material. See also n. 29. 24.  Clean animals were considered suitable for sacrifice. The offering is expressed like this: ‫כל אשר יתן ממנו ליהוה יהיה־קדש‬. 25.  Cf. v. 21: ‫קדש ליהוה כשדה החרם לכהן תהיה אחזתו‬. Cf. also Num 18:14; Ezek 44:29 and Ezra 10:8. 26.  See Milgrom 2001, 2396; Lohfink 1982, 213. 27.  Cf. nn. 4, 6. See also Milgrom 2001, 2368 (ḥērem consecration is irredeemable); p. 2369 (Jephthah’s vow is compared to the “extraordinary vows” mentioned in Lev 27:2).

10

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While Lev 27:28 obviously conveys a positive evaluation of the offering, the next verse (v. 29) is also about people who were regarded as ḥērem. Here, however, it seems to be a different case. Verse 29 probably refers to people punished with ḥērem penalty, as is related in Exod 22:19 (expressed with the same verb form, ‫ חרם‬Hophal, and not with ‫ חרם‬Hiphil, as in the case of the previous v. 28, which refers to a positive offering to the deity). Therefore these people in all probability suffered the death penalty (the text clearly expresses that they have to die: ‫)מות יומת‬, and it is significant that there is no mention of sacrifice or positive offering. Execution as a result of becoming ḥērem because of an offence is well-known in the Hebrew Bible (cf. the above-mentioned case of Achan in Josh 7). Thus ḥērem as a punishment is just as negative a category as war-ḥērem – it is not once called ‫“( קדש‬holy”) in the biblical text. In fact, Lev 27:29 may also refer to the victims of war-ḥērem, each of whom (in most cases) had to be killed anyhow (cf. 1 Sam 15:18–20, 32–33; 1 Kgs 20:24; Josh 6:17, 21; lines 16–17 in the Mesha Stele, see n. 10). While, as mentioned, Lev 27 is probably a late priestly composition, we do not know how early the practice behind it was.28 On the other hand, the type of ḥērem offered as a positive dedication was definitely connected with the priestly, ritual world, and not with war. Nevertheless, even in the texts about war-ḥērem the notion of holiness appears, and even within the Deuteronomistic History, in Josh 6:19, 24, the valuable articles captured as ḥērem are holy, and are taken to the treasury of YHWH (cf. also the connected Achan story: Josh 7:1, 11, 21).29 In all likelihood, the Mesha Inscription refers to the same custom.30 J. Milgrom (2001, 2393) presents another example: according to 2 Sam 8:10–12, “David consigned his precious metallic spoils to YHWH.” Milgrom claims that the ḥērem consecration of valuables must have existed coevally with the negative war-ḥērem, which compelled destruction (cf. n. 28). Other texts refer to the dedication of noble metal (silver/gold) to the deity in order that a cult 28.  P. D. Stern claims that the ḥērem dedication of property was a post-exilic practice, while J. Milgrom argues against his theory on the basis of the ninth-century Mesha Inscription (cf. n. 29): “ḥērem property was consecrated to the deity in earliest times” (Milgrom 2001, 2392, referring to Stern 1991, 125–35, 210). Milgrom (2001, 2393) also adds a very convincing argument: “no one can doubt that consecration of valuables was an important source of revenue for temples throughout the ancient Near East” (cf. Lev 27:3–7). 29.  This aspect of war-ḥērem is not a Deuteronomistic invention either; W. Dietrich (1996, 204) also refers to the Mesha Inscription; cf. n. 30. 30.  Lines 17–18 read: “for I devoted it (‫ )החרמתה‬to Ashtar-Kemosh. I took from there th[e ves]sels of YHWH and dragged them before Kemosh.” See n. 10.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

11

object could be made (Judg 17:3; 8:26–27; in the latter case it is taken from the spoils of war together with rich apparel – cf. esp. Josh 7:21–22 and also 6:19, 24). From all this we may conclude that at least some types of ḥērem were regarded as positive offerings; they were thought to belong to the sphere of holiness, not to the opposite of it. This theory is supported by the frequent usage of the term “(holy) to/for YHWH” (‫ )]קדש[ ליהוה‬in texts about the ḥērem,31 and by the fact that some, mostly prophetic, texts related the notion of ḥērem to sacrificial terminology.32 Interestingly, some of these ḥērem texts which label people as property of God or sacrificial victims definitely carry a negative connotation. This raises the possible contradiction that the extermination of the enemy (a clearly negative notion) can also be termed as sacrifice. One may consider S. Niditch’s theory (1993, 28–77) that the notion of ḥērem had a basic sacrificial meaning (also in a military context), and that the Deuteronomic ideology of “ban as God’s justice” is a further (transformed) interpretation, one which overpowered the “ban as sacrifice” concept in the Hebrew Bible. In the following, I will attempt to resolve the above-mentioned contradiction by offering my theory about the ḥērem concept within the general notion of holiness. Summarizing the above, I would infer that those forms of the ḥērem which carry a positive connotation as well as a sacrificial meaning – such as the offering of valuables to the deity – parallel the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter offered to YHWH (cf. the term of his vow ‫ והיה ליהוה‬in v. 31: see nn. 80 and 117 below). On the other hand, her offering cannot be identical with a ḥērem consecration simply because in the text it is called a sacrifice (‫ )עולה‬and not ḥērem. What I have tried to highlight is the evident parallel between the positive ḥērem offerings and the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter, which are both to be understood as positive consecrations to the deity. However, those types of the ḥērem which appear in a negative light, such as the extermination of the enemy and the execution of criminals, have nothing to do with the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter. 1.1.3. Some Aspects of the Religious Background of Warfare For the purposes of further investigation, it may be useful to take a look at the religious background of warfare prevalent in ancient Israel, since this might help us to interpret the deeds ascribed to Jephthah within its own 31.  Cf. Lev 27:21, 28; Josh 6:17, 19, 24; Mic 4:13. In Num 18:14 the context suggests the same meaning. Cf. 1 Kgs 20:42 and Isa 34:5 for similar terms, albeit with a negative connotation. See also nn. 16, 24. 32.  Deut 13:16–17 uses the phrase ‫ ;כליל ליהוה‬Isa 34:2, 5, 6 and Jer 50:26–27 apply ‫זבח‬/‫ טבח‬as a synonym of ḥērem.

12

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

military context. Concerning warfare, I rank among those who maintain that, even though one can discern that its theological schemes were formulated by redactors in the Hebrew Bible, in antiquity warfare was an inherently religious activity, a sacred institution. As Walter Dietrich notes, “It should be remembered that in antiquity every meaningful action had religious implications. In some way or another deities were involved in every war” (Dietrich 1996, 208 n. 41). Above all, what points to the religious interpretation of ancient warfare is that one can read in several texts from different ages in the Hebrew Bible that warriors and war itself had to be consecrated before it commenced, and that the military camp also had to be holy (expressed in the texts with different forms of the root ‫)קדש‬.33 There are, of course, characteristic features of the different types of texts. For instance, Num 31, as a priestly text, lays great stress on the notions of purity and pollution, and on the role of priests in war. Here we meet the concept that military conflict is defiling, and that soldiers must purify themselves after a battle (along with any surviving captives and booty). Naomi Steinberg states that “initial purity, inevitable pollution in battle, and subsequent purification are the stages in a military rite of passage according to the final form of the biblical texts” (Steinberg 1999, 122; see also Niditch 1993, 78–89). The term “Wars of YHWH” (‫ )מלחמות יהוה‬already appears in the history of David’s rise to power,34 and, according to several texts, God assists the warring Israel in many different ways, even casting such wars as the personal struggle of YHWH.35 Into this concept fits the idea that the spirit of YHWH inspired the commanders. Such a motif, as is well-known, is connected to the age of the judges and the beginning of the monarchy in the Deuteronomistic History.36 Another well-known motif is also related to the theme of divine military aid – namely, that God’s presence is guaranteed (and with that military success, as well) if the ark of the covenant is with Israel in the battle; if and when the ark (and God) leave(s) the Israelite

33.  On the consecration of war and warriors, and on most of the other concepts cited below, see von Rad 1991, 41–51. Consecrating war: Jer 6:4; Joel 4:9; Mic 3:5. Consecrating warriors: Jer 22:7; 51:27–28; 1 Sam 21:6; Josh 3:5. Compulsory holiness of the military camp: Deut 23:10–15. 34.  1 Sam 18:17; 25:28. Cf. also Num 21:14, where there is a hint about a certain “Book of the Wars of YHWH.” See Christensen 1974. 35.  Cf. Exod 15:3–4; Deut 33; Judg 5; Hab. 3 (Ps 68): these are archaic poems, which describe God fighting personally for the victory of Israel. On the divine warrior motif in general, see, e.g., Miller, Jr 1973. 36.  Cf. Judg 3:10; 6:34; 11:29 (about Jephthah); 13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14; 1 Sam 11:6.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

13

army, they become defenceless. This idea had ancient Near Eastern roots and background, just as did the general concept of divine assistance in war.37 Several biblical texts mention that before battle YHWH was asked whether the Israelites should go out to fight or not, whether they would be successful. According to Num 27:21, the priestly oracle by means of Urim and Thummim is inevitable before battle. Indeed, it is often mentioned, with reference to the period from the age of the judges to the age of David, that oracles are obtained before battle by using Urim and Thummim or ephod.38 In the cases of 1 Sam 14:18–19; 23:9–12 and 30:7–8, the ephod is definitely specified as the means of oracle. Though still open to discussion, the term “ephod” is commonly taken to refer to a (high) priestly garment, one to which a breastpiece (‫ )חשן‬was attached containing the Urim and Thummim, that is some kind of special mantic device. This oracular device may have consisted of two stones (see Haran 1978, 166–68, 213–14). Therefore, the oracle making use of ephod or Urim and Thummim, might essentially refer to the same ritual. Although this cannot be proven definitively, it seems rather obvious that in all these cases Urim and Thummim were used, since God is mostly being asked to supply a “yes” or “no” answer (see Dommershausen 1973, 995). Other texts indicate that YHWH could also transmit responses to intercession through dreams or prophets in a military crisis.39 According to several texts, when God helps Israel beneficently, he concomitantly afflicts enemies with his wrath.40 However, the destructive wrath of YHWH can also be seen to rise against his own people, typically because of their sins according to Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic theological concepts. Referring to Deut 32:22–25, R. D. Nelson states: “The punishing wrath of the Divine Warrior that would normally be expected to destroy Israel’s enemies is startlingly turned against the people” (cf. Nelson 2003, 255–57). Yet this dual character of divine wrath may be a much earlier idea; moreover, one can discover a similar concept in the Mesha 37.  Cf. the “ark narrative” in 1 Sam 4:1b–7:1; also Josh 6:4–13; see, e.g., Miller and Roberts 1977. 38.  Cf. Judg 1:1–2; 18:5; 20:18, 22, 27–28; 1 Sam 14:18–19, 37; 23:2, 4, 9–12; 28:6; 30:7–8; 2 Sam 5:19 (= 1 Chr 14:10), 23–25 (= 1 Chr 14:14–16). 39.  Cf. 1 Sam 28:6; 1 Kgs 20:28; 22:5–28; 2 Kgs 3:11–19 and Jer 38:14–27. 1 Sam 28:15–19: consulting a spirit/prophet. 40.  Cf. Exod 15:7; 2 Sam 22:8; Isa 34:2; Jer 50:13, 25; Pss 2:5; 69:25; 78:49–50; 79:6, etc. The phrase “enemies of YHWH” is used in relation to the Amalekites (1 Sam 30:26; cf. 1 Sam 15; Exod 17:16): “The deity requires the extermination of its enemies.” See Dietrich 1996, 208 (parallel in the Mesha Stele), and also Stern 1989, 417.

14

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

Inscription as well.41 It is important to emphasize that the wrath of YHWH is often connected with the ḥērem. Moreover, wrath and ḥērem can together afflict sinful Israel and/or the enemy.42 What is significant about war-ḥērem is that, in contrast to the Deutero­ nomistic presentation, it could not be generally applied – not even in the age of conquest. It was probably used exceptionally. Even in Josh 10–11 (about the conquering of towns), ḥērem is not used universally, in every case. One should note especially the remark made about Hazor in Josh 11:13, that it was treated exceptionally harshly, being the only town put to flame.43 As far as can be discerned from the earlier layers of the texts, war-ḥērem could be applied in order to fulfil a vow, by the order of the commander, or sometimes by the direction of a prophet.44 The Mesha Inscription also supports this usage of war-ḥērem: in this text we read that the king took a ḥērem vow in advance, and fulfilled it by annihilating everybody in Nebo.45 Apart from this, however, the ḥērem probably was an exceptional measure here as well (since it is mentioned only in connection with Nebo). Beside the terms of ḥērem and the wrath of YHWH, it seems that there is another key word in the vocabulary of war, namely the verb ‫עכר‬, which means “to bring (into) trouble or misfortune.”46 Like ḥērem, ‫ עכר‬does not appear to carry an exclusively military notion. Alice Logan also draws attention to this verb and the connotations involved. In her paper on the Jephthah narrative, she highlights that “the word describes the terrible anger of YHWH and the disaster it brings when an agreement with him has 41.  Line 5: in this case against the deity’s (Kemosh’s) own people. See n. 10. On the possible Moabite beliefs, see n. 68 (with reference to 2 Kgs 3:27). Cf. also n. 95 (a divine wrath concept in Mesopotamia). Cf. Deut 4:25; 7:4; 9:18; 11:17; 29:26; 31:17; Josh 22:18; 23:16; 2 Sam 24:1; 1 Kgs 15:30; 2 Kgs 17:17–18, etc. 42.  Cf. Isa 34:2, 5; Jer 50:13, 21, 25–26; Josh 7:1, 12–13, 26; 22:20; Deut 7:2, 4; 13:16, 18. (See Nelson 2003, 243–46, for a discussion of the two Deuteronomy chapters.) On the usage of both concepts in the Deuteronomistic covenantal theology, cf. also n. 56. Divine ḥērem against the enemy or Israel: Isa 11:15; 43:28; Mal 3:24; Jer 25:9. 43.  According to Dietrich (1996, 208), the war-ḥērem was “an ultima ratio…when [their] existence…was threatened.” 44.  Cf. Num 21:2; Judg 21:5; Josh 6:17; 1 Sam 15:3. These texts differ from the Deuteronomic idea of general, automatic divine command to ḥērem destruction (of the inhabitants of Canaan) formulated in Deut 20:16–17. 45.  See n. 10. Mesha said, “I killed everyone”… “‫“( ”כי לעשתר כמש החרמתה‬for I devoted it to Ashtar-Kemosh”). 46.  “Stir up,” “disturb,” “trouble,” etc. See BDB, 747b, and Koehler and Baumgartner 1967–95, 779. See also Stamm 1978.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

15

been breached” (Logan 2009, 679). In Josh 7 Achan brings misfortune on the whole camp of Israel by the offence against war-ḥērem,47 and in 1 Sam 14 Saul brings misfortune on Israel, but in this case by his military oath (cf. Chapter 3, section 3.3.1.3).48 Jephthah, who like Saul takes a military vow, accuses his daughter precisely with the same charge that she brought misfortune on him. He also uses the same verb, ‫עכר‬, to express the charge.49 The military usage of ‫ עכר‬in Judg 11 is emphasized by the parallel occurrence of the verb ‫ כרע‬in v. 35, since the latter verb “commonly is used of warriors felled in battle (Ps 18:40║2 Sam 22:40; Pss 20:9; 72:9; 78:31; cf. Judg 5:27; Isa 46:1–2; 65:12 [also 2 Kgs 9:24; Isa 10:4 and Ps 17:13])” (Day 1989, 67 n. 3). For a possible additional meaning of ‫ כרע‬in the text, see below. From all these particulars concerning the religious background of war, I think it is evident that Israel probably (like the neighbouring ancient Near Eastern peoples) made considerable efforts to consecrate itself in case of war. Israel tried to secure its place in the sphere of holiness, thereby receiving the benevolent protection of YHWH, whereas the enemies of Israel, so it was hoped, would be stricken by divine wrath, curse, strife, and misfortune. It is likely that, before a battle, the Urim and Thummim oracle was used for the express purpose of finding out who fell under divine displeasure and who enjoyed divine favour, to know which party was under a curse or misfortune (perhaps the Urim), and which party was going to be militarily successful (perhaps the Thummim).50 (Cf. Chapter 3 below.) As McCarter (1980, 250) postulates, “These terms refer to the counters of the lottery, the two possible results of each cast – thus, ‘ûrîm, ‘accursed, condemned,’ and tūmmîm, ‘pronounced whole, acquitted’.”51 47.  Cf. Josh 7:25: “Joshua said, ‘Why did you bring trouble on us (‫?)מה עכרתנו‬ YHWH is bringing trouble on you (‫ )יעכרך יהוה‬today.’” Cf. also Josh 6:18 and 1 Chr 2:7. In these verses ‫ עכר‬is applied in the direct context of ‫ ;חרם‬see Mosis 1989, 76. 48.  Cf. 1 Sam 14:29: “Then Jonathan said, ‘My father has brought trouble to the land (‫’)עכר אבי את־הארץ‬.” For similarities with Jephthah’s case and with Josh 7, see n. 78. 49.  Cf. Judg 11:35: “When he saw her, he tore his clothes, and said, ‘Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low (‫)הכרע הכרעתני‬, and you are one of them who trouble me (‫)ואת היית בעכרי‬.’” ‫( עוכר‬Qal pt.) also occurs in 1 Chr 2:7 about Achan and in 1 Kgs 18:17 about Elijah: it means “troubler (of Israel)” (Elijah shifts the blame onto the accuser, Ahab, in v. 18). 50.  Cf. n. 38 and Num 27:21. One may compare to this Lev 16:8: “Aaron shall cast lots on the two goats, one lot for YHWH (‫ )ליהוה‬and the other lot for Azazel (‫( ”)לעזאזל‬which is probably the name of a demon). 51.  This line of interpretation can be traced back to J. Wellhausen. For the scholarly literature, see van Dam 1997, 94–95 n. 55.

16

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According to the religious concept of warfare, as we could already see in some texts, Israel should be very careful, since either the wrath of YHWH or ḥērem curse or trouble and misfortune might well turn against Israel too. 1.1.4. Ḥērem and Some Aspects of the Idea of Holiness It has been already mentioned that, in the opinion of some scholars, ḥērem is a form of holiness – as the “root” of the Hebrew term implies.52 Therefore, it might be worthwhile also to have a look at certain basic features of the concept of holiness in the Hebrew Bible (various types of texts seem to share these basic ideas, although they also differ in their interpretations of holiness). This may promote a better understanding of the idea of holiness with regard to the military sphere and, with this, of the ḥērem and Jephthah’s vow. For this work I have found the argumentation of Joel Kaminsky to be very useful.53 First of all, one can acknowledge that while the (relatively late) Deutero­ nomistic covenantal theology uses, and is to some extent built upon, the notion of holiness and related ideas such as the wrath of YHWH or the ḥērem, these concepts are probably much more ancient. Both the ḥērem and the wrath of YHWH point to a particular aspect of holiness – that it can be dangerous. Concerning this, Kaminsky refers to Rudolf Otto, who claimed that the absolutely essential feature of this holiness was that it is separated, totally different from the profane world – note that ḥērem is also called taboo54 – and this is the very idea which constitutes the core of the concept “holiness.” However, holiness is not only separated and totally different from anything which is profane – it also has contrastive aspects within itself: “the holy” might well be either protective and positive or dangerous and threatening.55 Here, of course, it is impossible to analyze the various theological interpretations the different types of texts (and 52.  Cf. n. 54. Stern (1991, 155–56, 190–91); Stern (1989, 420); Lohfink, (1982, 196–97). According to S. Niditch, the notion of ḥērem has a basic sacrificial meaning. See n. 32. The term “(holy) to/for YHWH” is frequently used in texts about the ḥērem. See n. 31. 53.  Kaminsky 1995; see especially Chapter 3 (“Divine Wrath”) and Chapter 4 (“Joshua 7: Holiness Violation”). 54.  E.g. Malul (1999). What supports this interpretation is that ḥērem is generally assumed to be derived from a common Semitic root with the meaning “separate,” “forbid,” “consecrate” (Lohfink 1982, 201–2). 55.  Otto 1980 (1923), especially Chapter 4 (“Mysterium tremendum”). Kaminsky refers to Otto in his Corporate Responsibility (1995, 63, 89 n. 64). Well-known texts about the dangerous side of the deity: Gen 32:23–33; Exod 4:24–26; 12:21–23; Lev 10:1–7;

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

17

their parent ideologies) placed on this probably very ancient concept of holiness. However, the real point of interest for this study is that this basic feature of holiness is apparently present, re-interpreted, and applied in Deuteronomistic (covenantal) theology (cf. also n. 56). Various kinds of rites and proper behaviour were considered to be necessary in order to secure the goodwill of the positive aspect of holiness and to protect the individual and community from the negative side of it.56 The (priestly) concepts of purity and pollution can also be connected to this way of thinking, since (ritual) purity is necessary for the creation of a fit environment for retaining the positive side of holiness (of the deity) in the midst of the community (protecting them), while pollution could evoke a fatal reaction from the deity.57 Menahem Haran describes “the lethal aura surrounding holiness” (in priestly texts), the destructive divine wrath aroused by the violation of certain prohibitions. Arousing such wrath, Haran noted, was “not conditioned by deliberateness on the part of the doer” (Haran 1978, 187–88). Regarding the motif of purity required by God to stay with Israel, Kaminsky relies on the ideas of both J. Milgrom and B. Levine (Kaminsky 1995, 90–91). As has been mentioned above, Num 31 also reveals the belief in the dual aspects of holiness, in this case concerning war – although war and warriors are consecrated, nevertheless war defiles soldiers, such that they have to be purified after battle. What is most significant for our investigation is that both the negative war-ḥērem and the positive ḥērem consecration, which was similar to a sacrificial offering, were both dedicated to YHWH. As such, both forms of ḥērem belonged to the sphere of holiness, and with that to the deity. Though one aspect was considered negative (threatening), the other reflected the positive (protective) side of holiness.58 The interpretation of war-ḥērem as the manifestation of the negative side of holiness seems to correspond with Philip D. Stern’s theory about war-ḥērem being a consecration to God through destruction. Stern highlights the mythopoetic connections of a divine act defeating/destroying the chaos-monster, the enemies of God (and, by so doing, creating cosmos/order from chaos; see Stern 1989, 419; 1991). Num 16:19–35; 25:11; Judg 9:23; 1 Sam 16:14–23; 18:10–11; 19:9–10; 2 Sam 6:6–8; 1 Kgs 22:19–23, etc. For a detailed treatment of the problem, see Lindström 1983. 56.  Kaminsky 1995, 88–93. Israel always has to keep holy, for God is holy: Lev 11:44; 19:2; 20:26; Deut 7:6; 14:2; 23:15; 26:19; 28:9, etc. The violation of ḥērem is interpreted as a transgression of God’s covenant in Josh 7:11, 15: so divine wrath turns against Israel (vv. 1, 26), and it has to be appeased (cf. Kaminsky 1995, 92–93). 57.  Cf. e.g. Lev 10:1–7 (n. 55). 58.  See nn. 16, 25, 31, 32.

18

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On the other hand (as discussed in section 1.1.2), while many offerings – such as the dedication of valuables to the deity – were viewed positively as being similar to sacrifice, sacrificial terminology also appears to bear negative connotations. In relation to war-ḥērem, that negative aspect would be annihilation (cf. n. 32 above). I think that this seeming contradiction can be resolved by assuming that the notion of sacrifice operates in a similar way to the ḥērem – namely, the victim was dedicated to the holy sphere, while the means by which this came about might involve two totally different kinds of consecration. It is important to stress that from the point of view of the offerer, sacrifice (as well as ḥērem) was not a blurred concept: when a sacrifice was made, it was done with the intention either of appealing to the positive side of holiness (as in the case of a regular animal sacrifice to the deity) or else to ritually execute/annihilate something/someone (an offering to the negative side of holiness). The latter kind of sacrifice was understood as if putting a curse on someone, and draws to mind the case when the ideal king of the Deuteronomistic History, Josiah, is reported to have ritually slaughtered the priests of the high places on their own altars (2 Kgs 23:20). The text uses the phrases ‫ זבח‬and ‫מזבחות‬, which are sacrificial terms. In addition to the aforementioned features, ḥērem displays other characteristics as well. C. Brekelmans has pointed out that the noun ḥērem probably expressed a quality or a state, like qōdeš (‫)קדש‬.59 In connection with this one can discern another typical feature shared by ḥērem and qōdeš – both the ḥērem quality and the qōdeš state can “spread” and are, so to speak, “contagious.” Qōdeš quality can pass on its positive character,60 and in such priestly texts as Exod 30:29 we read that whatever touches the consecrated furniture becomes holy.61 Similarly, ḥērem state also can transmit its negative nature.62 59.  Brekelmans 1971, 636. Cf. the terms ‫נתן לחרם‬/‫שים‬/‫ היה‬and the causative verbal form ‫ החרים‬meaning “to put under the ban,” “to declare somethings/someone as ḥērem.” See Malul 1999, 824. Brekelmans’ theory is even more convincing if we survey the biblical verses in which the noun ḥērem occurs (29 times): it is always singular, and it can be interpreted as a nomen qualitatis everywhere (even in expressions like ‫“ לקח מן־החרם‬to take from the holy/abominable/banned/devoted”: Josh 6:18); otherwise it should be read in some cases as a nomen concretum (but strikingly never in the plural, even if it were logical), in others as a nomen actionis (see Lohfink 1982, 193–95, 198–99). 60.  On the topic of “contagious holiness,” see Haran 1978, 175–88 61.  ‫וקדשת אתם והיו קדש קדשים כל־הנגע בהם יקדש‬. On the dangerous side of this contagious holiness see n. 65. See also Haran 1978, 177. 62.  Cf. Deut 7:26. Kaminsky cites Greenberg (1976, 31) on Achan spreading negative ḥērem quality (cf. Josh 6:18; 7:1, 11–12, 24–25; see n. 66 below). It is also striking that the contagious character of ḥērem is connected with ‫“( עכר‬bringing trouble”) and with the spread of YHWH’s wrath in Josh 6:18; 7:1, 25–26; 22:20.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

19

However, in the Achan story even the positive ḥērem articles – which are, interestingly, also called qōdeš (they are the valuable things taken to the sanctuary of YHWH63) – can bring misfortune if they are mi­sappropriated or handled improperly.64 The improper handling of the positive ḥērem objects placed in the sanctuary may be interpreted as an offence against taboo, which releases the negative side of holiness. In many priestly texts, even the priests who are consecrated (cf. Exod 30:30; see n. 58) are exposed to death if they touch or approach the holy (‫ )קדש‬instruments improperly.65 With this concept we can associate the case of Uzzah (2 Sam 6:6–8), which exemplifies the same idea that if one handles holy instruments improperly – even unintentionally or with a good intention – this is enough to arouse divine wrath against oneself. In Josh 7, as a reaction to Achan’s misappropriation of the consecrated (‫ )קדש‬ḥērem articles, negative ḥērem quality appears in the midst of Israel. As soon as Achan misappropriates the consecrated articles, he defiles himself and the whole community. Negative ḥērem quality spreads to the whole camp of Israel, and then the wrath of YHWH afflicts Israel instead of the enemy.66 For an overview of the above-discussed issues, see the Table of Concepts Discussed in Chapter 1 (and the corresponding notes) below. 1.1.5. Child Sacrifice in Connection with War and ḥērem Turning to the question of child sacrifice, from such texts as 2 Kgs 3:26–27, certain accounts by classical authors, a number of Egyptian reliefs of a Canaanite rite, and possibly also a Ugaritic text, we find evidence suggesting that child sacrifice was regarded across the ancient world to be effective in cases of extreme danger. According to B. Margalit et al., siege situations may have been considered suitably grave as to warrant the sacrifice of a child.67 More recently, Michaela Bauks has offered a very detailed treatment of this question in a similar vein (Bauks 2010, 23–57; cf. 63.  Cf. Josh 6:19, 24. See especially n. 29. 64.  About the narrative see n. 23. Cf. n. 62. 65.  Cf. the warnings in connection with priests, Levites, and even with Israel as a whole: Exod 28:35, 43; 30:20–21; Lev 10:6–7, 9; 16:2, 13; 22:9; Num 1:53; 4:15, 19–20; 8:19; 17:25; 18:3, 5, 22. 66.  Cf. Josh 7:1, 12, 26; also Josh 22:20 (NRSV): “Did not Achan son of Zerah break faith in the matter of the devoted things, and wrath fell upon all the congregation of Israel? And he did not perish alone for his iniquity!” 67.  B. Margalit (1986) quotes some oft-cited classical sources about such Punic and Phoenician practice and a Ugaritic text, RS 24.266:9–19 (though the reading of the word in question – [b]kr: “a firstborn” – is far from clear). See also Spalinger 1978; Hoffmeier 1987; Hackett 1984, 80–89; 1987, 131–34.

20

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

also Logan 2009, 668–73). Lauren Monroe actually parallels the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter with “the practice of ‘heir-sacrifice,’ in which an heir is offered as an ‫ עולה‬to ensure success in battle” (Monroe 2013, 52). 2 Kings 3 records an example of this practice, telling how Mesha, the Moabite king, sacrifices his firstborn son on the city wall and then (divine) wrath rises against the besieging Israelite army – in the end they lift the siege and decamp. This custom was not unknown as a literary motif in Greek tradition either: Euripides applies this motif in Phoinissai 903–1018. The main difference is that in his tragedy it is a voluntary self-immolation inspired by a prophecy. The sacrifice of Menoikeus, a royal offspring, is demanded by the wrath of Ares. The young man stabs and throws himself from the city wall of Thebes to acquire the help of the deity against the besiegers, who ultimately fail to capture the city. Like ḥērem, the idea of divine wrath was a common belief in the Levantine region (and beyond, cf. the ancient Greek text just discussed). For example, divine wrath appears in the Mesha Inscription, where it seems the deity could be provoked to turn against the enemy or its own people.68 In the biblical account about Mesha’s “heir-sacrifice,” at 2 Kgs 3:27, the term ‫ קצף־גדול על־ישראל‬occurs. Since ‫ קצף על‬means “wrath against” in Biblical Hebrew (see BDB, 893b), it cannot refer to the “wrath of Israel” (i.e. “Israel’s indignation”), as it is sometimes translated. Rather, it means “(divine) wrath against Israel,” with the deity referred to most likely being the Moabite god of Mesha, Kemosh (though YHWH might be meant; see Liver 1967, 30).69 Besides being regarded as an effective ultimate means of averting danger, child sacrifice or dedication was perhaps considered appropriate for the removal of the negative ḥērem quality. In biblical tradition, we read that Hiel probably established the new Jericho with his own children 68.  See n. 41; also on divine wrath nn. 40, 42, 95. 69.  Berlyn 2002, 224–25: ‫ קצף‬may mean an epidemic, etc. On the other hand, the translation “mass hysteria” (Margalit 1986, 63) cannot be ruled out, if we assume that belief in the efficacy of human sacrifice (in order to arouse divine wrath against the enemy) was common in the region: that is, the Israelites might be appalled for fear of the “great wrath” of Kemosh (or YHWH), and the divine wrath may manifest itself for them in their own confusion, and not necessarily in a physical blow, like an epidemic (cf. Mattingly 1989, 230). Nevertheless, in the present text the retreat of the Israelites can be read as neglect of YHWH’s command (cf. v. 19), and so possibly a denial of YHWH’s supremacy over any other deity and its supposed wrath. The other reading of the text, that the sacrifice is offered to YHWH, may imply that the biblical author(s) did not want to dispute the efficacy of child sacrifice (see below; cf. Marcus 1986, 24). The sacrifice is not mentioned in the Mesha Inscription, but the king might have carried it out in a military crisis.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

21

entombed in the foundations. Two biblical verses, 1 Kgs 16:34 and Josh 6:26,70 relate the story. These two verses refer to each other, and from the context it follows that a city which has been put under a ban, made ḥērem (Jericho), is not to be rebuilt again, it being a taboo place.71 The biblical presentation may indicate that Hiel, by sacrificing his children, intends to remove the supposed negative ḥērem quality of the site, making it suitable for rebuilding.72 How are we to interpret the apparent belief that sacrifice served to remove negative ḥērem quality? I would refer back to the discussion of the notions related to holiness. In that analysis, I pointed out that sacrifice – a positive offering to the deity – and war-ḥērem – a ritual killing, a defiling act in the honour of the deity, and thus a negative dedication – represent the two opposite spheres of holiness. One may recall 1 Sam 15, where sacrifice (in the positive sense) is opposed to war-ḥērem.73 Above all, the example of Achan in Josh 7 offers a classical example of the idea that positive consecration can operate as a means to remove negative ḥērem quality. Nevertheless, according to this text, it may also be necessary to single out beforehand an offender, a carrier of the taboo status, and to remove him (and his family) from the community by excommunication and/or execution (cf. Josh 7:12–13; see Kaminsky 1995, 85–90). Strikingly enough, the two verses concerning the story of Hiel, although they belong to the Deuteronomistic History, which condemns child sacrifice, do not appear to deny the efficacy of his deed (i.e. that he managed to rebuild the city at such a cost). However, his act is interpreted as the fulfilment of a curse (cf. 1 Kgs 16:34 with Josh 6:26). He is denounced as accursed for his offence against war-ḥērem, viz. the taboo of rebuilding (Josh 6:26: “Cursed before the Lord be anyone who tries to rebuild this city”). It appears that Hiel 70.  Within Josh 6, v. 26 seems to be a later addition. 71.  Cf. the Deuteronomic version of the same idea concerning Israelite towns in Deut 13:16–17; see n. 54 above. Cf. also the Mesha Inscription, from which a similar concept may be deduced; see n. 10, and Lohfink 1982, 203. 72.  This episode is mentioned only as a passing remark, so its interpretation is highly hypothetical. In 1 Kgs 16:34 and Josh 6:26 the simplest and clearest interpretation of the preposition ‫יסד( ב‬/‫ )הציב דלת‬may be as Beth instrumenti in the concrete sense (“lay the foundation/set up a city-gate with/by means of ”), in my view. That is (at least according to the story), Hiel’s children were probably buried in the foundation. (See Heider 1985, 210–22, for a discussion of the archaeological discovery of infant bodies found buried in homes – albeit not from the Iron Age.) While, of course, it remains possible that Hiel’s children were not sacrificed but died a natural death, the possibility of some kind of foundation sacrifice seems to be more convincing. See Green 1975, 169. 73.  See nn. 20 and 22 above and the related discussion.

22

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is held personally responsible for all the consequences of that offence (like Achan, the offender in Josh 7). The biblical accounts convey the impression that Mesha and Hiel evidently regard child sacrifice or dedication as an effective holy act in a positive sense, averting danger and gaining success. This effectiveness is not doubted from the standpoint of the narrator either, which is surprising since the text belongs to the Deuteronomistic History (which condemns child sacrifice). However, the narrator’s attitude is not in the least to be equated to approval of the deed, as the negative biblical presentation of Hiel clearly shows. 1.1.6. Jephthah’s Vow and Sacrifice within the System of War and Holiness Returning to the case of Jephthah, in the system I have presented his deed can be interpreted as follows: the human sacrifice dedicated to YHWH was possibly regarded as effective for gaining military success. According to this way of thinking, by means of the vow to offer human sacrifice74 and with the assistance of the spirit of YHWH (Judg 11:29), Jephthah and his army could consecrate themselves, since the holy state in a positive sense, the qōdeš state, was necessary to win the war, as we could see. Jephthah’s vow, even if it was not identical with the positive ḥērem offering in Lev 27:28, can be compared to that (also to the sacrificial vows in vv. 9, 10; cf. vv. 26, 33). Both mean dedication of something of one’s own to the positive holiness75 to the qōdeš sphere in such a special way that the offered thing or person cannot be redeemed anymore, because it got “infected” – it became holy for ever. It seems that no-one else, no money or animal offering is accepted as a replacement for Jephthah’s own daughter. On the other hand, the vow (like every vow) is irrevocable (cf. nn. 4, 6, 95), no matter how dreadful it was; if Jephthah did not fulfil it, it would be a great offence against the holy sphere and a misuse of holiness. What is important to emphasize in this section is that, being a negative notion, classical war-ḥērem – that is, the defiling execution of the enemy – represents the direct opposite of positive sacrifice, and thus the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter has absolutely nothing to do with the classical negative war-ḥērem. 74.  Jephthah definitely must have in mind a human – not animal – sacrifice. He may very well assume that the victim will be a woman; cf. the motif of women coming out to welcome the returning warriors in Exod 15:20; Judg 4:18; 5:28–29; 1 Sam 18:6–7. See Marcus 1986, 13–15. On the other hand, the really effective sacrifice is, of course, the offering of the most precious or the beloved one, who is usually the only child or the first-born. For a discussion of this in relation to Isaac, see Müller 1997, 238, 245. On the value of Jephthah’s offering, see Bal 1988, 51, 59–65. 75.  Cf. Mesha and Hiel (nn. 68, 69). According to the relevant texts they dedicate their own children (probably to a deity).

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

23

In the same way as Jephthah’s daughter by her father’s military vow, the valuables are irrevocably (and irredeemably) dedicated to positive holiness by means of war-ḥērem in Josh 6 and 7 (cf. nn. 29, 23, 63–66). Apparently they must not come into profane use any more in any way. When misappropriating them, Achan brings the negative side of holiness/ of ḥērem – misfortune, the wrath of YHWH (Josh 7:1, 26) – on himself and even upon the whole camp of Israel. As we saw, this trouble, the turning aside of God, is expressed here by the verb ‫עכר‬, and in the Jephthah narrative the same verb is used.76 If he did not fulfil his vow, Jephthah would “bring trouble,” the negative side of holiness, on himself. Moreover, misfortune, as in the case of Achan, would also spread to his family and even to Gilead – all the more so, because Jephthah is a commander in Gilead.77 In 1 Sam 14 we can see the same motif (bringing trouble on Israel as a whole) expressed with the same terminology (‫עכר‬: v. 29), concerning Saul in this case, also in a military context. Saul takes a military oath and in doing so endangers his people and – like Jephthah – his own child (cf. Chapter 3 below, section 3.3.1.3).78 The case of Saul is very similar to Jephthah’s (Tita 2001, 102–3). Saul is also a leader of Israel and a commander; his military oath affects the whole people: it results in the loss of ritual purity. Impurity appears in the midst of Israel (1 Sam 14:29, 32–33), and YHWH turns away from them (vv. 37–39). The negative side of holiness threatens them because of Saul’s oath. Jonathan sees it (v. 29), but he also admits that anyone (himself included) who offends against holiness has to die (v. 43; cf. nn. 64, 65), for the oath of the commander is in all probability made to the holy sphere (to the deity). One can suppose that the military oath itself was regarded as holy (cf. n. 33).

76.  See nn. 47, 49, 62. If we translate ‫ עכר‬a little differently (“hinder,” “treat in a hostile way,” “harm” – see Mosis 1989, 76) the core of my argumentation remains unaffected. In Judg 11 ‫ כרע‬is also used (about warriors felled in battle – see n. 49). According to the system of holiness in warfare, this verb can be similarly interpreted as ‫ – עכר‬that is, Jephthah is defeated, the negative side of holiness (of deity) turns against him unless he fulfils his military vow. 77.  ‫ קצין‬and ‫ראש‬: Judg 11:6, 8, 9, 11. The term (‫ עכר )ישראל‬also refers to the concept that one brings trouble not only on oneself, but on the whole community; cf. nn. 47–49. Cf. n. 66. Ahab’s offence against ḥērem also affects his whole people; see Stern 1990. 78.  See n. 48. Another parallel can be drawn between Josh 7 (vv. 16–18) and 1 Sam 14 (vv. 40–42), where we find the divine lot/Urim-Thummim being used to decide who is guilty. The answer might also imply that the one found guilty is cursed (cf. n. 50 and 1 Sam 14:24, 28), and thus stands to bring misfortune on the community.

24

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One notable detail in the Jephthah account is that Jephthah accuses his daughter, saying that she brought misfortune on him (cf. n. 49). Despite trying to pass on the responsibility, it is obvious that he is the one who took the fatal vow, and that he was aware that a very high potential existed for his only child to be the victim.79 He was the one who brought a possible misfortune upon himself (and his people); he is the real “troubler” (‫עוכר‬ like Saul). And so his first reaction is to blame the victim, his child (cf. 1 Sam 14:29, 38, 39; 1 Kgs 18:17, 18). It appears that he would rather take back his vow, yet he knows that by doing so he would arouse the negative side of holiness against himself and Gilead – he has no option other than to fulfil his vow. Alice Logan interprets the fulfilment of Jephthah’s vow in a similar fashion (cf. especially Logan 2009, 672). From the point of view of YHWH religion, what can be criticized about Jephthah’s vow is not the absolute offering of a person to YHWH. As David Marcus noted, according to Num 8:11, 13, 21 the Levites are offered wholly to YHWH as a ‫תנופה‬, a sacrificial term.80 Furthermore, the Levites are offered to God in replacement for every first-born of Israel (cf. also Exod 13:13; 22:28; 34:20). The sacrificial meaning is emphasized in both cases by the usage of ‫“( לי‬They are mine” – viz. YHWH’s: Num 8:16, 17; cf. also Exod 22:28) and ‫( ליהוה‬Num 8:13). Nevertheless, in the texts concerning the Levites the references to sacrifice are to be taken figura­ tively. This circumstance serves as an argument for those who refuse to interpret the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter literally. Hannah’s vow in 1 Sam 1:11 offers another parallel case, and, moreover, it is a vow and an offering of one’s own child. Structural similarities between the vows of Hannah and Jephthah have been analyzed by Marcus (1986, 18–27). Samson is also offered/dedicated to God for his entire life as a Nazirite according to Judg 13:7. Concerning the sacrifice (or ritual killing) of a person, it strikes one that the texts which clearly condemn the sacrifice of one’s own children do not mention other types of human sacrifice.81 Of course, it does not necessarily follow that human sacrifice of adults would have been actively practised at that time. The argumentum de silencio suggests that it was not held to be a contemporary, ongoing issue for the authors of the Hebrew Bible. Still, “a number of scholars point to the fact that the narrative [of Jephthah’s vow] does not seem to hold that such a vow is contrary to the spirit of Israelite religion” (Marcus 1986, 46). As discussed above, according to 2 Kgs 23:20, 79.  Cf. n. 74; moreover, among the women coming out to greet him, his daughter or wife is assumed to be the first. 80.  Marcus 1986, 26. 81.  Cf. nn. 1, 2.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

25

even the ideal king of the Deuteronomistic History, Josiah, had the priests of the high places ritually slaughtered on their own altars (a kind of sacrifice in a negative sense; cf. a similar idea in 2 Sam 21:1–9, where David himself ordered the ritual killing in the honour of YHWH). As for the prospective victim of his sacrifice, the words of Jephthah’s vow are ambiguous, even grammatically indefinite, since he does not promise directly to sacrifice his own child to the deity. This raises the suspicion that his vow is actually “a cunning attempt to promise one thing [his daughter, a precious, effective offering: cf. n. 74 above] while hoping for a lesser outcome,” that is, that someone else will be the victim.82 (Cf. the cunning conduct of Saul when he takes his military oath that will afflict his own son, section 3.3.1.3 below.) If we interpret the text in this way, Jephthah’s vow does not at all seem as hasty as usually assumed. Indeed, it can be seen to cohere with his negotiating abilities presented earlier in the text (Judg 11:6–10, 12–27). According to Boling (1975, 216), Jephthah’s character is “calculating and particularly skilled at negotiations” (cf. also Logan 2009, 677–78). While the effectiveness of Jephthah’s offering is not disputed (as in the cases of Mesha and Hiel: cf. nn. 68, 69), this does not amount to a tacit approval of his taking such a vow. The tragic outcome, however, does indicate some great problem with his vow. The issue may be that “since YHWH’s decision is rendered in the battle Jephthah fights against Ammon, the vow acts as an attempt to bribe the God whom Jephthah had specifically invoked earlier as judge to decide the issue.”83 YHWH’s spirit assists Jephthah in the battle, therefore it may seem unnecessary to take such a vow.84 However, Jephthah has just managed to find his way back to the clan system from a position of a quasi-outlaw. He is a ‫ קצין‬and ‫ראש‬ of Gilead (terms probably denoting military and civil leadership positions respectively), but everything seems to be at stake, the stability of his position may depend on the outcome of the war (cf. Judg 11:6–10).85 When taking his vow, Jephthah’s intention seems to be to secure his position at all costs – even to the extent of offering someone else’s life, and trying to bribe YHWH. As I noted at the beginning of this chapter, the folk 82.  Cartledge 1992, 179. 83.  Janzen 2005, 344. 84.  Cf. Judg 11:29–30. In the book of Judges (and 1 Samuel), the power of the spirit of YHWH is always enough to “consecrate” the judges to wage war and to win it; cf. n. 36. According to Römer (1998, 29–30), there is a strong tension between the gift of the spirit and the vow. 85.  Willis (1997, 43) even deduces from the narrative that Jephthah “uses his position as a traditional clan leader as a springboard for claiming broader charismatic authority that transcends the limits of the clan.”

26

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material that has frequently been paralleled with the story of Jephthah’s daughter commonly involves such a motif of a father (or brother/husband) being in great trouble or wanting to achieve a cherished objective, such as a military victory (cf. e.g. the Beauty and the Beast tale). On the other hand, this kind of behaviour typically characterizes the warrior heroes, such as the gibbôrîm, who have military success as their utmost priority and who would do anything in order to achieve it (cf. the presentation of Agamemnon, where the father of Iphigenia powerfully exhibits that mentality). Against this background, Jephthah’s horror and accusation of his daughter can be explained: he did his best to achieve victory and, at the same time, to keep his precious one, his only child. His hope was that someone else would be the victim. With his daughter’s coming out to greet him, however, this risky attempt tragically failed (Cartledge 1992, 180). To satisfy his desperate craving for success, he unnecessarily risked his daughter’s security, along with his own and Gilead’s. To put Jephthah’s deed in a proper perspective, it may be worthwhile to consider Gen 22 and the similarities and differences between the two stories. Isaac’s sacrifice and the narrative of Jephthah’s daughter are frequently compared, especially on the basis of two common expressions – ‫ עולה‬and ‫ה‬/‫ – יחיד‬appearing in the narratives (see, e.g., Römer 1998, 32; Logan 2009, 678; cf. also n. 74 above). As for the question of literary impact, whether or not we accept Veijola’s (1988) postexilic dating of Gen 22 (Noort [2002, 14–20] argues against it), it is still an open question which text had an impact on the other. Moreover, it cannot be excluded either that both texts use the same two terms because both stories represent the same general (literary) pattern, namely the sacrifice of the most precious child to the deity in a crucial situation (cf. nn. 67, 74; see Heider 1985, 275). For instance, Mesha offers his son as an ‫עולה‬, and this son is, although not a ‫“( יחיד‬an only child”), nevertheless a ‫“( בכור‬a firstborn”); moreover, he is ‫אשר ימלך תחתיו‬, that is, his heir (cf. nn. 67, 68). Besides, as is well-known, Eusebius too applies parallel terms and notions relating the foundation legend of the Phoenician/Punic child sacrifices (based on the work of the Phoenician historian Sanchuniaton, which was transmitted by Philo of Byblos) in Praeparatio evangelica I.10.33, 44; IV.16.11. Here, apart from the motifs of the burnt-offering and the only child (μονογενῆ υἱὸν, I.10.33), also “das Lexem jahid kehrt phönizisch in dem Nomen Ἰεουδ wieder” (Müller 1997, 245; Heider 1985, 276 n. 548). That being said, in agreement with the scholarly treatments which postulate some literary interrelation between Gen 22 and Judg 11, I prefer to include an intertextual analysis of these texts. In light of Abraham’s presentation in Gen 22, the conduct of Jephthah appears highly problematic. Not

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

27

only does Jephthah offer someone else’s life (after all, that is precisely what Abraham is about to do by obeying the divine command), but in so doing he also hopes to achieve a specific aim. In other words, Jephthah acts with a selfish intention, while Abraham seems to have no other pretext in mind. On the contrary, Abraham is ready to give up his only hope, his son, in favour of the deity, while gaining nothing by the bargain. The consequences arising from their very different attitudes clearly show how differently Abraham’s and Jephthah’s actions are evaluated (cf. Logan’s impressive description of the radically different consequences in the two stories, Logan 2009, 678). Not only can he keep his son safe and sound, but YHWH also blesses Abraham, promising him innumerable descendants through his son – not to mention that, as an additional blessing, the deity even promises that his descendants will gain military victory (cf. Gen 22:17). In contrast, what Jephthah gains by his selfish vow is nothing but the military victory for which he so eagerly yearned. Through his victory, he has recovered his honor and secured his social position (cf. DeMaris and Leeb 2006), yet he has literally sacrificed everything for it, since in a patriarchal society his childlessness was actually taken as a sign of divine punishment or curse (cf. Lev 20:20–21; 1 Sam 1; 2 Sam 6:23). Serge Frolov rightly highlights that Jephthah’s immense loss is all the more apparent, since the verses surrounding his story concern a group of minor judges, three of whom are said to have a lot of offspring, including many daughters (even the daughter-inlaws are mentioned, cf. Judg 10:4; 12:9, 14). In sharp contrast to the fertility of Abraham and these minor judges, Jephthah loses his one and only child. As such, his “vow becomes its own punishment” (Frolov 2013, 223). Accordingly, regarded in this light, the verb ‫ עכר‬occurring in Judg 11:35 may have an additional nuance of meaning. While it definitely expresses the idea of “bringing trouble/curse,” the probable implied reference to the story of Achan may recall that detail of the Achan narrative which relates that he perishes together with his entire family as a consequence of his deed (Josh 7:24–26). Similarly, Saul is called an ‫“( עכור‬who brings trouble/curse,” cf. 1 Sam 14:29 and the discussion in section 1.1.3); he dies disgracefully on the battlefield, and, most notably, his family also perishes (with the exception of Mephiboshet/Meribbaal, Jonathan’s lame son, cf. 1 Sam 31; 2 Sam 1; 4; 9:1–13; 21:1–14). Like Saul, King Achab, the “troubler of Israel” (‫עכר ישראל‬, cf. 1 Kgs 18:17 with v. 18), perishes in battle and his family are exterminated (1 Kgs 22:34–38; 2 Kgs 9:22–26, 30–37; 10:1–11). Although in the texts concerning Hiel the verb ‫ עכר‬does not occur, nevertheless Hiel is referred to as an accursed individual (‫)ארור‬ precisely because he deprives himself of his own children in order to rebuild Jericho (cf. 1 Kgs 16:34 with Josh 6:26).

28

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In the case of Jephthah, the daughter is not treated as accursed – quite the opposite, she becomes an “institution” in Israel (cf. section 1.2 below). In fact, it is Jephthah himself who uses the term ‫עכר‬, intending to express his fear in face of the impending danger – namely, that he becomes accursed. Hiel has indeed drawn down upon himself the curse pronounced by Joshua on the person who dares to rebuild Jericho, and thus Hiel has really become accursed. Jephthah, however, carries out the vow he offered to YHWH, and thus averts the potential curse from himself and from Israel. Consequently, unlike Achan, Saul and Achab, Jephthah does not die a disgraceful death. Moreover, in the biblical heroic world, where honour means everything, he manages to restore his honour and secure his social position (cf. DeMaris and Leeb 2006). Be that as it may, he still has to bear the very serious consequences of his deed, in as much as he loses his only child once and for all. He dies childless. Jephthah’s dying without offspring seems to be a relatively typical fate afflicting the classical type of warrior heroes (cf. the Introduction above). Such heroes either die childless or their family perishes (cf., e.g., the tragic fate of Gideon’s family, related in Judg 9). Apart from Saul and Jephthah, who are both called gibbôrîm, the characterization of Samson, the “superhero” of Judges, gives another example of this “heroic infertility.” The childless death of warrior heroes is not really surprising, since their utmost interest lies in achieving their sought-after glory and honour.86 1.1.7. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter within the Deuteronomistic Ideas Now, returning to the initial question of this study – how to interpret the Jephthah narrative within the Deuteronomistic History, in which child sacrifice is condemned in all other cases – it is helpful to compare some arguments employed in the earlier-mentioned studies by Römer and Janzen with my suggestions.87 I have already treated the question of literary provenance of the Jephthah narrative in section 1.1 above, arguing that it could well have derived from a folk tradition which related the story of Jephthah and that of his daughter as a complex coherent narrative.88 In my opinion, and following the generally presumed scholarly line of thought,89 some old 86.  For a similar notion in ancient Greek traditions, see, e.g., Nixon 1995, 91. 87.  I refer to the studies by Römer (1998) and Janzen (2005). Cf. section 1.1 above. 88.  For an opposite view, see Römer 1998, 28–29. 89.  For this “widely held opinion,” Römer cites Richter (1966, 516). Cf. also Soggin 1981, 216–18. Richter et al., however, treat the episode of Jephthah’s daughter as a story

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

29

(at least pre-DtrH) tradition lays behind the narrative. Römer argues for a Hellenistic origin of the story of Jephthah’s daughter; in his opinion, it directly derives from the Iphigenia story.90 Yet, as I pointed out in section 1.1, it seems much more relevant, taking a cue from Peggy L. Day, to handle these two stories as narratives which reflect – by and large – the same common folk-literature pattern. Another question discussed in section 1.1 was in what way the note about the women’s ritual mentioned in Judg 11:39b–40 relates to the entire Jephthah narrative. According to my reconstruction, the ritual could well have had a direct connection with the Jephthah narrative as a whole, a connection similar to what we observe in the traditions related to the story of Iphigenia and that of Horatia. According to Bal (1988, 41–68, especially p. 49), who cites Arnold van Gennep’s The Rites of Passage (1960; cf. also Day 1989, esp. p. 60), the story of Jephthah’s daughter itself fits the process of a female initiation rite remarkably well. Thus it appears logical to assume that this was a real custom related to a particular heroine, and – as is usual in such cases – that there was a story built around her figure which constitutes a foundation legend for the rite. It is this legend that was handed on in the biblical text. If we accept this assumption, we see that the biblical author(s) was/were not at liberty to invent a fictive plot, since the original, perhaps well-known, tale had to be used. The latter was probably well-known indeed, since from the text it does not follow that the ritual was performed only in Gilead: “So there arose an Israelite custom that for four days every year the daughters of Israel would go out to lament the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite” [vv. 39b–40, NRSV]). The rite is not mentioned elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, a fact that also supports the supposition that the tale was probably not invented by the biblical author(s) simply for aetiological purposes (see Boling 1975, 210). Logan explains the function of the note about the women’s ritual in a very similar way (cf. Logan 2009, 683). On the other hand, Frolov is right in saying that in many written presentations of folk traditions “a folk motif [is] radically transformed to serve the unrelated objectives of a written product” (Frolov 2013, 213). Yet in this case of a probably well-known rite related to a widely known story, if the author of the biblical text wanted to appear authentic and to be able to convince his audience, he could not alter the major and essential elements of the narrative. First and foremost, “he could not have ended the story any differently,” for example, writing that was old, but completely independent from the rest of the Jephthah narrative. For an opposite view, see my argumentation in section 1.1 above with references to the relevant scholarly literature which supports my reconstruction. 90.  Römer 1998, 33.

30

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

that the heroine did not die, or that she was not sacrificed (see Logan 2009, 683). Nevertheless, there do appear to be several additions in the present biblical text. These are evidently not the product of folk traditions but deliberately constructed insertions and modifications – the product of (possibly Deuteronomistic) redaction work – which were applied to the text so that the narrative would fit better into the context of the Judges and the Deuteronomistic History. For instance, when negotiating with the Ammonites, Jephthah gives an intricate and erudite speech which refers to certain pentateuchal passages (cf. Judg 11:12–28, see Frolov 2013, 218). As Soggin states, “this text is generally recognized as a long interpolation: only vv. 12 and 28 can belong to the original tradition” (Soggin 1981, 211). Besides, the episode of Jephthah’s conflict with the Ephraimites seems to be completely dependent on a similar episode in the Gideon cycle (or vice versa; cf. Judg 12:1–6 with 8:1–3). There may have been some folk tradition behind the Ephraimite episode related in Judg 12, but its connection to the note in the Gideon cycle is only too apparent. As for the preliminary section of the Jephthah narrative, it is generally considered to be a Deuteronomistic introduction to the entire narrative (cf. Judg 10:6–16; see, e.g., Soggin 1981, 201). In line with the above discussion, rather than the theory of Hellenistic origin, I would prefer David Janzen’s view that the narrative in its final form perfectly fits in with the Deuteronomistic ideas.91 Yet I apply rather different arguments to support this proposal. Janzen claims that the story represents the typical Deuteronomistic condemnation of foreign sacrifice and foreign morality. One cannot deny that in the framework of the Jephthah cycle, “Israel’s apostasy seems more serious than before.”92 The major judges represent the classical type of warrior heroes in the book of Judges.93 Accordingly, these warrior judges (including Jephthah) are usually described as complex personalities: besides their undeniable martial virtues, most of them have their own weaknesses and flaws.94 I would maintain that Jephthah’s weakness (see also n. 85 above) can be seen in the leitmotif that emerges from the beginning of the narrative, of someone who fights somewhat too determinedly for recognition and success. He actually seems to be a typical warrior hero, a typical gibbôr. 91.  I share Janzen’s opinion (2005, 342) that this argument functions properly whether one assumes that the Deuteronomistic History contains redactional layers or not. 92.  Cartledge (1992, 175) about Judg 10:6–16. Janzen 2005, 346; Soggin 1981, 202–3. The theory about the gradual decline of the judges and Israel in the age of the judges is well-known; see Janzen 2005, 343, with literature. 93.  See the Introduction above. 94.  Cf. especially Gideon, Barak, and Samson.

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

31

Jephthah’s general Deuteronomistic evaluation – like that of Gideon and Barak – is nevertheless to be seen as positive (cf. 1 Sam 12:11). When interpreted within the context of the system of holiness I have presented, it is easier to understand why the fulfilment of Jephthah’s vow was not directly condemned by the Deuteronomists – the Deuteronomists were among the most zealous protectors of the holy sphere in the framework of covenant theology. They believed, as we can see, that any offence against holiness (in this case the breaking of a vow) would arouse the destructive wrath of YHWH against Israel and would bring misfortune on the offender and the community.95 Yet, although direct condemnation of the offering of human sacrifice does not appear in Judg 11, the entire narrative – studied in its proper context – strongly suggests a negative disposition towards the actual deed. Jephthah pays an extremely high price for his errant vow. He carries out his vow so as to avert disaster befalling himself and the community, and thus he does not become an outcast and does not die disgracefully. Nevertheless, Jephthah has to bear the consequences of his deed: he dies childless, in sharp contrast to Abraham and several minor judges (see above). This presentation of the fate of Jephthah and his evident desperation when facing the horror of his situation (Judg 11:35) powerfully demonstrate what happens to anyone who takes a vow to offer a human sacrifice. His fate can actually be seen as a powerful deterrent for those considering human sacrifice. Yet a more detailed comparison with the narrative of Abraham near-sacrifice of Isaac in Gen 22 – traditionally known “the Akedah” – may shed some more light on the problem of human sacrifice in Judg 11. First, Jephthah’s daughter in the text is a ‫בתולה‬, “a girl of marriageable age,” as several scholars interpret the phrase.96 The associated word ‫ בחור‬definitely refers to a “young man,” and never to a “boy.”97 The term ‫ בחור ובתולה‬indicates this young adult age-group in several biblical

95.  I described these ideas above (cf. nn. 4, 41, 42, 49, 55, 56; nn. 76–78 about Josh 7 and 1 Sam 14). One more remark here: Janzen (2005, 344–45) claims that “Dtr shares the common ancient Near Eastern idea that vows must be fulfilled or else calamity will strike the one who swore it, as a passage such as Deut 23:22–24 (21–23) makes clear.” He refers to Cartledge 1992, 86–90. I would add that, from the Mesopotamian texts Cartledge cites, it is also clear that precisely the wrath of the deity was believed to be kindled (even against the whole household of the offender), if a vow was not fulfilled. 96.  Cf. Judg 11:37–38: ‫בתולים‬, meaning “marriageable age/status.” See Wenham 1972; Bergman, Ringgren and Tsevat 1971; Keukens 1982; Bal 1988, 46–48; Day 1989, 59–60. 97.  See BDB, 104b.

32

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texts.98 Isaac is called a ‫נער‬, not a ‫ בחור‬in the biblical tradition, so he is perhaps still a young boy.99 Similarly, Samson is consistently called a ‫נער‬, before he comes of age (cf. Judg 13:5, 7, 8, 12, 24). Yet, upon reaching marriageable age, Samson appears as a ‫( בחור‬cf. Judg 14:10; see Wilson 2014; Lemardelé 2011). Jephthah’s daughter, as a young adult (a ‫)בתולה‬, is able to decide her own fate. This she does, as the narrative emphasizes when it shows her speaking for herself. In contrast, Isaac seems to be completely under paternal control in Gen 22. What strikes us is that Isaac does not actively consent to his sacrifice. The need to bind Isaac further points to this. Jephthah’s daughter, however, consents to become a victim; she is the one who decides to see the vow through to completion, so as to avert danger befalling the whole community, to safeguard the good relation with the holy sphere. While one could argue that the daughter was powerless to prevent her fate, what is striking is that she not only resigns herself to it, but even reinforces her father’s desperate argument by persuading him that there is no other way. As she explains, her sacrifice is inevitable and is even subject to a just claim on the part of the sacred sphere, for YHWH gave victory to her father. Accordingly, she maintains, if Jephthah has opened his mouth to take a vow to the holiness, he has to fulfil it (even if it was a foolish and terrible vow).100 Considering the status and behaviour of Jephthah’s daughter, the human sacrifice is, in actual fact, a self-sacrifice in this narrative. Moreover, the narrative itself does not exclude the possibility that Jephthah’s daughter already knew of her father’s vow when she went out to greet him.101 As the story of Hannah shows, in antiquity, prayers and vows were usually offered in public, and, most importantly, spoken out loud (cf. how appalled Eli the priest is when he sees Hannah “mumbling,” that is, offering a silent prayer/vow to YHWH; see 1 Sam 1:12–15, 27–28). Although vows could well have served as the expression of personal piety, nevertheless they were normally made in public and fulfilled in public (cf. Cartledge 1992, 26; 27, esp. n. 1; 34). That being said, it is not surprising that both Jephthah and his daughter behave as if they both suppose that she has known about his vow. Her father’s accusation implies this, and her own reaction also points to it, since she appears to be aware of the terms 98.  Cf. Deut 32:25; 2 Chr 36:17; Jer 51:22; Ezek 9:6; in the plural: Ps 148:12; Isa 23:4; Zech 9:17; Lam 1:18; 2:21. See Bergman, Ringgren and Tsevat 1971, 875. 99.  Cf. Gen 22:5, 12. Although ‫ נער‬does not always mean a “boy,” cf., e.g., in the same chapter v. 5, where the meaning seems to be “young men”; see Fuhs 1986, 513–16. 100.  Cf. Judg 11:36. Cf. n. 78, too: Jonathan is also ready to suffer the consequences of his father’s rash oath. 101.  See, e.g., Fewell and Gunn 1993, 127, and also Fuchs 1993, 120.

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33

of his vow and all the related facts (cf. vv. 35–36). Someone has to be the victim; does she choose to be the one? At the very least, she accepts this role. Further examination of the text will highlight other possible motives behind her acts: she also asks for something, so to speak, in return for her sacrifice. Besides, to undertake her new position, her new status as a nubile woman, it may even be essential for Jephthah’s daughter to go out to greet the returning warriors, ritually, as women generally do. She would need to do this even if she knew of the vow of her father.102 This interpretation casts the narrative of Jephthah’s daughter in a different light. There is, for instance, another well-known case in the book of Judges which can be read as a self-sacrifice: the death of Samson, who also offered his life in return for the defeat of his (and YHWH’s) enemies (Judg 16:28, 30).103 Actually, it seems significant that both Samson and Jephthah’s daughter are cast as young adults: they are specified as being a ‫ בחור‬and a ‫ בתולה‬respectively (see above, especially Wilson 2014). This circumstance may indicate that the “ideal” hero/heroine who offers his/ her life to the deity necessarily belongs to that age-group. (Interestingly, 1 Sam 9:2 denotes another great hero, Saul, as a ‫ ;בחור‬he also dies a tragic – albeit not an early – death.) The self-sacrificial nature of the young woman’s behaviour might be one of the reasons why Christian authors have compared Jephthah’s daughter to Jesus since antiquity.104 Summarizing the above, the theological evaluation of human sacrifice conveyed in Gen 22 and Judg 11 is, in my view, as follows. First, the story of the Akedah exemplifies that it is strictly forbidden to sacrifice an underage child. The text even points to the proper form of offering an underage child to the deity, namely by performing a substitute sacrifice of an animal offering. Second, the story of Jephthah conveys the message that, like the sacrifice of a small child, vowing to sacrifice one’s own young adult child is viewed as an equally repulsive act – anyone doing such a thing would face very severe consequences. Yet, according to this presentation the self-sacrifice of an adult person may be acceptable (or even required) under extreme circumstances, for instance in war. As Susan Niditch (2008, 133) claims, “later in tradition, martyrdom comes to be understood as efficacious because on some level God accepts human sacrifice.” I would stress here that only the self-sacrifice of an adult may be acceptable in exceptional situations. 102.  See sections 1.2 and 1.3.7 below. 103.  Cf. Chapter 2, especially section 2.3.7. 104.  See Tkacz 2004. Cf. the similar self-sacrifice interpretation of Isaac’s offering in some Jewish medieval sources (Niditch 1993, 44).

34

Heroines, Heroes and Deity Table of Concepts Discussed in Chapter 1 (cf. also Chapters 2 and 3): Vocabulary of Holiness

Sphere of holiness Some notions and terms representing Some notions and terms representing the negative aspect of holiness the positive aspect of holiness (‫חרם )ליהוה‬ (‫חרם )ליהוה‬ ‫היה ליהוה‬: Judg 11:31 (see nn. 117, 116; cf. nn. 80, 16, 24, 25, 31) (‫קדש)־קדשים‬ ‫עולה‬: Judg 11:31; ‫ זבח‬and, generally, ‫טבח‬/‫זבה‬, meaning “ritual slaughter,” sacrifice in a positive sense “sacrifice” in a negative sense* ‫( רוח־יהוה‬see n. 35) (‫אלהים רעה‬/‫רוח יהוה‬: 1 Sam 16:15, 16; 19:9, etc.) wrath of YHWH (‫אף‬, ‫קצף‬, etc.; see nn. 40–42)** ‫עכר‬: Judg 11:35 (see nn. 76–78) ‫( ? אורים‬see n. 50) ‫( ? תמים‬see n. 50) ‫( טמא‬see n. 57) ‫( טהר‬see n. 57) (‫עבר ברית‬: Josh 7:11, 15; see n. 56) ‫ברית‬ * Cf. the slaughter of hostile nations: Isa 34:2, 5–6; Jer 46:10; 50:26–27; Ezek 39:17–19 (and Zeph 1:7–8); see n. 32 above. Cf. also the slaughter of the priests of the high places on their own altars by divine judgment: 1 Kgs 13:2; 2 Kgs 23:20 (see the discussion in section 1.1.6 above). Being depicted as a kind of negative consecration to the deity, this concept is virtually equal to the notion of negative ḥērem. Accordingly, ‫טבח‬/‫ זבה‬is also used as a synonym of negative war-ḥērem in these texts (cf. Isa 34:2, 5–6 and Jer 50:26–27). Note that the evaluation of a ritual act or several other phenomena mentioned in this table depends upon the personal perspective of the interpreter. For instance, sacrifice (‫ )זבח‬to any other deities than YHWH is condemned in biblical texts (cf. 1 Kgs 11:8; Hos 11:2 etc.), while for the non-YHWH believing offerer it was a holy act in a positive sense. See also nn. 63–65 for ḥērem. It must be underlined that, according to my reconstruction, the people of the ancient Near Eastern/Levantine shared the same basic binary logic and held common religious/theological notions, as seen in the table. What may be different is the outlook expressed towards particular religious acts – how the various groups categorized these particular acts as “negative” or “positive.” ** The term ‫“( קצף יהוה‬wrath of YHWH”) definitely and decidedly denotes a negative concept. Yet the “wrath of YHWH” can operate either to the detriment of Israel or in its favour depending on the direction of the divine wrath: this negative divine “force” may turn against them, or against their enemies, in direct accordance with Israel’s actual positive or negative relationship to the deity (cf. nn. 40–42 above).

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35

1.2. Characters in the Narrative: Jephthah’s Daughter as a Heroine In connection with the term ‫“( בתולה‬a girl of marriageable age”), and the phrase ‫“( לא־ידעה איש‬she was virgin,” v. 39), one more aspect of the story should be mentioned. Mieke Bal compares the sacrifice of Jeph­ thah’s daughter to two stories in the book of Judges. Judges 21:11–12 is a war-ḥērem case, and only the girls of marriageable age, who are also “pure” as virgins,105 are spared: they are suitable and valuable enough106 to compensate and remedy the destructive effect of YHWH’s military blow (Judg 20)107 by their marriage with the Benjaminites. In Bal’s view, another parallel case from the book of Judges is that of Achsah, who is promised and given as a wife to the victor of a battle by her father – she is, effectively, the “prize” for the victory (Judg 1:12–15).108 Similarly, Deborah W. Rooke also emphasizes that Jephthah’s daughter is given to the deity. Rooke observes similarities with Num 31, where unmarried, virgin women are taken as spoil by the human victors.109 Of these, the closest parallel appears to be the case of Achsah, since Jephthah’s daughter may be seen as a prize of victory offered by her father110 rather than a spoil of war, in the narrative.111 This latter idea – Jephthah’s daughter understood as the “prize of vic­ tory” for the deity – brings to mind my earlier argument about the valuable articles spared from war-ḥērem in the case of Jericho and in the Mesha Inscription (Josh 6:19, 24 and see n. 29). As I argued, these positive ḥērem offerings can be seen as parallel – albeit not identical – with the sacrifice

105.  The two expressions, ‫בתולים‬/‫ בתולה‬and ‫לא־ידעה איש‬, are used together in Judg 21 and 11 (vv. 37, 38, 39), as well. Cf. Bal 1988, 46. 106.  In her reading, the double term expresses the proper status of the girls and the value of the gift in both stories; see Bal 1988, 51. Jephthah’s daughter as a precious offering: see n. 74 above. Cf. especially Num 31, where only the virgin girls can be ritually pure to be spared and be wives of the Israelites (v. 18); see Niditch 1993, 78–89; cf. section 1.1.3 above. 107.  Cf. vv. 28, 35: the deity’s destructive side is against Benjamin. Cf. also war-ḥērem quality removed by child sacrifice/dedication in some biblical texts: n. 72. 108.  See Bal 1988, 51, 62. 109.  Rooke 2006, 258. She refers to Num 31, cf. n. 106 above. On YHWH having a wife or wives in folk/pre-exilic religion, see Dietrich and Loretz 1992, 77–182. 110.  As has been mentioned (section 1.1.6 above), his vow may be read as a calculated master-stroke, to promise his daughter (a precious, effective offering), though in an indirect way, while hoping that someone else will be the victim. Cf. also the folklore parallels mentioned in section 1.1.6. 111.  It is to be noted that Rooke also points to this difference.

36

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of Jephthah’s daughter, although the classical negative war-ḥērem (the extermination of the enemy) has absolutely nothing in common with the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter (cf., e.g., the end of section 1.1.2). These biblical parallels, along with the folklore ones mentioned in section 1.1, all feature the motif of marriage as a major theme (as for Iphigenia, her prospective marriage with Achilles serves as a pretext to entice her to Aulis, the place of her sacrifice; cf., e.g., Gantz 1996, 582). The offering of Jephthah’s daughter to YHWH is identified in the text neither with a ḥērem consecration (as just mentioned) nor with an actual marriage between her and the deity. The text specifies her offering as a sacrifice (‫ )עולה‬in Judg 11:31. Yet, in light of the many parallel texts it is worthwhile to consider this aspect of the narrative as well. Quite a few scholars regard the festival mentioned in vv. 39b–40 as a female initiation or pre-marital rite of passage. As has been mentioned, the legendary/mythological narratives that parallel the story of Jephthah’s daughter had a connection with precisely such rituals (cf. the stories about Iphigenia and Horatia respectively in section 1.1 above). As already discussed, the biblical story about the vow and sacrifice is itself understood as the foundation legend of the rite. Several elements of the biblical narrative fit remarkably well into the framework of the foundation legend of a female initiation ritual, especially the all-female “retreat” of Jephthah’s daughter and her companions into the mountains, lamenting “before she reaches maturity/during her time as a marriageable girl.”112 Thus, several scholars accept that the rite referenced in the text was really “an Israelite custom”113 performed by “the daughters of Israel.”114 This theory about the pre-marital rite of passage indicates that it cannot be excluded that a marital pattern was at the core of the basic, legendary story. Be that as it may, what is relevant for our investigation is the actual text we have. Although, as mentioned, the text does not identify the connection between the girl and YHWH as marriage, it is obvious that the girl’s marriageable age and virgin status are underlined.115 Therefore, 112.  See Keukens (1982), where a plausible philological interpretation of the problem­atic expression ‫ בכה על־בתולים‬is presented. See also Bal 1988, 41–68, esp. 49; Day 1989, 60; Gerstein 1989, 186–87 (applying especially the theory of Turner, 1969); Rooke 2006, 258. 113.  It is definitively called an “Israelite,” not only a “Gileadite” (so peripheral), custom in v. 39b. 114.  See, more recently, Frolov 2013, 215. Somewhat earlier, J. Alberto Soggin (1981, 216–18) listed and commented upon the earlier proposals suggesting various folklore and mythological parallels. 115.  Cf. nn. 105, 106 above. Her connection to YHWH is described as a union by Gerstein (1989, 187–89).

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her connection to YHWH, especially when expressed in the vow by the term that she “shall be YHWH’s” (‫והיה ליהוה‬, Judg 11:31b), may be at least a sensitive issue, not easy to interpret. For indeed, the term ‫ היה ל‬in several biblical verses refers to a woman becoming someone’s wife.116 Yet this term is also used to describe the consecration of people to YHWH – though never as a sacrifice.117 It is all the more striking, therefore, that the very next phrase in v. 31b specifies this consecration as a sacrifice. This seems to be an intended structure in the text, since the sacrifice is mentioned only here,118 at a crucial point in the narrative. Looking at the Hebrew, we see that the two expressions used one after the other in v. 31b – ‫ – והיה ליהוה והעלתיהו עולה‬appear particularly (overly?) complicated. Indeed, the construction has caused significant problems for interpreters.119 However, if this wording is specifically crafted, it is plausible to assume that the second term is intentionally applied in order to specify the first: “s/he shall be YHWH’s: (that is) I shall offer him/her as a burnt offering.” In this way, I think, the (present) text completely excludes the mythological interpretation of the connection between the girl and YHWH. Namely their connection is not viewed in the same way as the many adventures of Zeus with mortal women (as well as goddesses), which were pictured in mythology as actually consummated marriages/relationships. When the text equates the daughter of Jephthah’s offering to YHWH with a sacrifice, it implies that her connection with the deity is not a mythological kind of marriage but a sacrificial union with holiness. Thus, through her self-sacrifice, she becomes the “bride of YHWH” in a figurative, spiritual sense, just as, for example, Israel and Judah are depicted as the brides of YHWH (cf. Jer 3:1–5; Ezek 16; 23; and Hos 2:4–25). In line with this interpretation, in his Judges commentary, Serge Frolov entitled its ninth chapter (which treats the entire Jephthah narrative) “The Bride of YHWH.” One may conclude that this is a further feature of the text which is typical of the Deuteronomistic approach, since the aforementioned demythologizing tendency perfectly befits the Deuteronomistic theology. This aspect too supports the theory that the present text indeed belonged to the Deuteronomistic History. 116.  Cf. Lev 21:3; Deut 24:2; Judg 14:20; 15:2; Ruth 1:13; Jer 3:1; Ezek 16:8; Hos 3:3. 117.  Marcus points to this, remarking that ‫ והיה ליהוה‬is never “found with animals but only with people.” See, e.g., Num 3:12, concerning the consecration of the Levites. Cf. Marcus 1986, 10, 11, 51, as well as n. 80 above. 118.  At the end of the story (v. 39) it is merely stated that Jephthah fulfilled his vow; the sacrifice is not mentioned again. 119.  See Marcus 1986, 23–24.

38

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From all this the question arises whether the text was an intended variation, a re-interpretation of the foundation legend of the rite, placing a female ritual within the proper limits of the “true” YHWH religion, while excluding any improper elements. An advantage of this theory is that it might facilitate the understanding of the question, “What was the reason for relating this story?”120 At least it seems evident that the endeavour to cleanse the YHWH religion corresponds with the programme of the Deuteronomists. Besides, in this biblical (re-interpreted) form the rite (and its foundation legend) might have appeared decent and acceptable to them. First of all, this was no rival to the Jerusalem cult, sacrifices probably did not pertain to it; it was not connected (in the biblical version) to any other deity but YHWH, and not to any theriomorphic form of YHWH (as is the case with Jeroboam’s sin). Moreover, according to the text Jephthah’s daughter is not a goddess (like Asherah) but a human heroine, whose connection with the deity is depicted as a sacrificial union, a kind of spiritual marriage and not a mythological matrimony. Last but not least, according to my reconstruction, the text does not at all encourage people to perform human sacrifices. It can actually be read as a powerful deterrent from offering a human sacrifice (cf. section 1.1.7 above). All these features of the story fit nicely into the framework of Deuteronomistic theology. The above argumentation may, I think, be helpful in resolving another problematic issue residing in the Jephthah narrative – namely, the role of YHWH’s spirit, which is said to be at work in the story. Strikingly, from the context it may well follow that the deity not only accepts the offering, but even inspires it by his spirit.121 In the present form of the text, Jephthah is under the guidance of YHWH’s spirit (‫ )רוח יהוה‬when taking his vow (cf. Judg 11:29–30). (As for Frolov’s objection to my reading, which I am expanding upon here, I would counter that in the context of v. 29b the word ‫ עבר‬is probably best understood as an adverb – and not as a verb – on the basis of a Hebrew manuscript and the Septuagint version of the text; cf. the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, 5th ed. by Schenker 1997.)122 Jephthah’s divine inspiration is another feature that parallels with Gen 22, where it is clear that the motive of Abraham’s deed is the result of divine initiative. The difference between the two presentations is that Gen 22.1 directly reveals the deity’s motivation – to test Abraham. Similarly, in the folk and 120.  Cf. the theory of Römer (1998) and that of Janzen (2005) mentioned above. See also Soggin 1981, 218. 121.  Cf. n. 84 above. 122.  Frolov (2013, 208) cites the literature relevant to the discussion, mentioning an earlier version of the present chapter.

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39

mythological parallels cited in section 1.1, it is nearly always a deity or some other superhuman being that initiates the offering of the daughter. In fact, in many stories the deity/superhuman being even deceives the father in order to obtain his treasured daughter (cf., e.g., the Beauty and the Beast tale). To better understand the operation of YHWH’s spirit in Judg 11, we may compare it with its depiction in the Samson cycle. According to Judg 13:25, “the spirit of YHWH began to stir/move” Samson, and a few verses later the divine spirit rushes on him (14:6). Remarkably, between these two verses there occurs a note which reveals the real motive behind the operations of the divine spirit: YHWH actually uses Samson’s weakness for women as a pretext to unleash him upon the Philistines (Judg 14:4; see Foster 2012). In line with this parallel text, one can infer that, in Judg 11:29–31, the spirit of YHWH may actually use Jephthah’s weakness, his craving for military success, in order to get what the deity wants – the daughter of Jephthah. Gerstein examines the story from an anthropological perspective. This kind of investigation may shed some light on the subject matter. According to Gerstein’s reading, “the spirit of God sets him [Jephthah] apart from the community” and “leads him to make his vow”; this is a dangerous liminal period for Jephthah, the warrior (Gerstein 1989, 182; cf. Turner, in n. 101 above; also n. 78). The liminal period Jephthah passes through reminds us of the liminal experiences of warrior heroes, excellently described by Gregory Mobley in his 2006 book, Samson and the Liminal Hero in the Ancient Near East. According to Mobley, one of the most important characteristics of these biblical (and ancient Near Eastern) heroes is that they repeatedly “go out” (‫ )יצא‬to fight as Jephthah does with his gang (Judg 11:3), and return (‫ בוא‬or ‫שוב‬, cf. 11:31, 34) after having finished with their enemies (Mobley 2006, 59–60). This sequence of actions which typically characterizes the heroic life corresponds with the religious system of warfare analyzed earlier (section 1.1.3) – namely, before embarking on war, consecration/ritual purity was required of the warriors. Certain rituals facilitated their passage into the military realm, their “going out” to fight. Subsequently, inevitable pollution befell the warriors, who, when slaying their enemies, operated as the agents of divine vengeance/wrath, as the means of negative, dangerous holiness. Thus the warriors needed to go through purifying rituals which annulled their sacred condition, in order that they could return from their liminal position and reintegrate themselves into normal everyday life yet again. It is helpful to give some consideration to the above-mentioned sequence of the rites of passage that a warrior had to go through each time he went out to and returned home from battle. All these physical and ritual comings

40

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

and goings typical of the warriors can easily be associated with the crucial role which the root ‫ עבר‬plays in the Jephthah narrative. ‫עבר‬, meaning “cross border,” “pass through,” “traverse” and the like “is a leitmotif… throughout the whole Jephthah-cycle” (Römer 1998, 29; cf. 10:8, 9; 11:17, 18, 19, 20, 29 [×3], 32; 12:1 [×2], 3, 5 [×2], 6). DeMaris and Leeb list the various subsequent rituals that characterize the Jephthah narrative, including the “ritual of return from battle,” when Jephthah returns home (expressed with the verb ‫ בוא‬in this case, cf. above) and the women go out (‫ )יצא‬to greet the warriors with tambourines and dancing (cf. Judg 11:34; see DeMaris and Leeb 2006, esp. p. 185). As Soggin (1981, 219) observes, the strangest – and, for present purposes, the most significant – fact is that as soon as the spirit of YHWH comes upon Jephthah, he begins to cross and pass through (‫ )עבר‬several different places; ‫ עבר‬occurs three times in 11:29 and once in 11:32. In between his several crossings Jephthah takes his fatal vow (11:30–31; his vow includes the verb ‫שוב‬, cf. above). Both his possession by the divine spirit and his crossings seem to indicate that Jephthah has passed into a different, sacred condition before embarking on war with the Ammonites. This is precisely the time when he makes his formidable vow. From the narratives about the judges and Saul it is clear that anyone under the influence of YHWH’s spirit might perform the most extreme deeds (for the biblical passages, cf. n. 36 above). One may especially recall the frenzy of Samson and the madness of Saul. The consecrated state of the warriors seems to be a very special and dangerous condition, a war situation (cf. n. 33), and the military leader should be particularly careful to remain within proper limits. The story of Horatius and Horatia powerfully illustrates just how dangerous a state the warrior falls into when fighting. As mentioned in section 1.1 above, returning from his duel (decisive for the fate of Rome and Alba), Horatius stabs his sister to death in a fit of rage (notably, when she has come out to greet him). Being a victorious warrior, Horatius is not executed after his crime. However, as Livy (1.26.13–14) records, “after offering certain expiatory sacrifices that became traditional in the Horatian clan thereafter, he [his father] had erected a beam across the street and made the young man pass under it, as under a yoke of submission, with his head covered. This beam exists to-day, having always been kept in repair by the State: it is called ‘The Sister’s Beam’ [Tigillum Sororium].” Both the traditional sacrifices and the Sister’s Beam itself seem to serve as institutionalized mementoes which symbolize the dangerous liminal state of the warriors and highlight the crucial role of the rites of passage in their reintegration into the society. After battle, without having passed through the proper expiatory/purifying rituals (such as passing under the Sister’s Beam), the warriors might turn against their own people, or

1. The Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter

41

even against their own family. As Scott Littleton states on the basis of Dumézil’s theory, “The basic function of the ritual seems to have been to divest the warrior of his furor [heroic frenzy] after he has exhibited it in battle” (Littleton 1973, 81; cf. Dumézil 1942).123 Having seen the examples of the warriors’ dangerous liminal state, we may raise a question concerning the biblical narrative: Does the deity take advantage of this special state of Jephthah? As seen in the folk/mythological parallels, the deity/superhuman being normally does so. David Janzen remarks that the divine acceptance of the sacrifice “may well have been the point of view of the story’s pre-Dtr setting.”124 Nevertheless, Niditch claims with regard to the present biblical texts that “the authors of Gen 22 and this passage [Judg 11] understand that all life is God’s to bestow and take back…on some level God accepts human sacrifice” (Niditch 2008, 133). Although YHWH requires Isaac’s offering but only accepts it in the form of a substitution sacrifice, the deity may well expect self-sacrifice from an adult person (see above). This self-sacrificial motif indeed occurs in the Deuteronomistic History: the narrative of Samson’s death implies that YHWH accepts the offering of his life (see section 2.3.7 below).125 Moreover, the self-offering of Samson fulfils the initial expectations and intentions of the deity – namely, that in his death Samson kills a huge number of Philistines, just as YHWH wanted him to do (cf. Judg 14:4 with 16:30; see also Foster 2012). One may conclude that, based on the formulation of the biblical account, YHWH indeed expected self-sacrifice from Samson. In the folk/mythological parallels of Judg 11, too, the deity/superhuman being requires the willing self-offering of the girl, otherwise he would not accept the offering or it would be futile (cf. especially the Beauty and the Beast tale). Despite Frolov’s claim that Jephthah’s daughter actually prostitutes herself by her self-offering (cf. Frolov 2013, 222), the narrative presents her figure in a very favourable light. The positive evaluation of her self-offering is all the more apparent because she is said to become an “institution” in Israel (literally “becomes

123.  I noted earlier that Rose highlighted the story’s connection to a reconstructed female initiation ritual; cf. section 1.1 above. 124.  Janzen 2005, 344 n. 3. Janzen refers to scholars who agree on the point that YHWH accepts the offering; see, e.g., Boling 1975, 209; Soggin 1981, 218. See also Tapp 1989, 165, 170; Gerstein 1989. 125.  Cf. Judg 16:28, 30 (also n. 101 above). While the Samson cycle (and more likely Judg 1:1–2:10 and chs. 17–21) might even have been a post-Deuteronomistic addition, it was, at least, probably not earlier than the biblical Jephthah-cycle. See, e.g., O’Brien 1994, 245.

42

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a law/prescription/custom in Israel,” ‫ותהי הק בישראל‬, Judg 11:39). And indeed, her annual celebration makes her an exceptionally prominent heroine, not to mention her status as the bride of YHWH. In accordance with this scheme, the father (Jephthah) has to be ready to renounce his paternal power, to give up his daughter in favour of the deity – no matter how shocked and reluctant he might be.126 In Judg 11:35, the verb ‫ כרע‬may express that the father feels completely crushed, since he has to “give away” his daughter (see Steinberg 1999, 126; Bal 1988, 62–64; for the military aspect of ‫כרע‬, see n. 49 above). Beside the tragic and dreadful aspect, one may also notice a kind of balancing effort in the narrative structure of the text: each main character has got something, which she or he wanted to achieve, although they have to do or even sacrifice something most effective127 or precious – so to speak – in return. We may discern this balance especially in vv. 36–37, expressed with the verb ‫עשה‬: She said to him, “My father, if you have opened your mouth to the Lord, do to me (‫ )עשה לי‬according to what has gone out of your mouth, now that the Lord has given you (‫ )עשה לך‬vengeance against your enemies, the Ammonites.” And she said to her father, “Let this thing be done for me (‫)יעשה לי‬: Grant me two months, so that I may go and wander on the mountains, and bewail my virginity (see n. 112), my companions and I.” (NRSV)

In spite of her evidently inferior status, Jephthah’s daughter takes her share in this mutual agreement too (see n. 101). She accepts the role of the victim, but this role implies a sacrificial union with holiness (connection to the deity), and she is granted the right to make a (ritual) retreat that sees her move outside the male (paternal) sphere and into an exclusively female one. As we have seen, several elements of the text indicate that Jephthah’s daughter willingly offers her life to the deity (albeit its tragic aspect is highlighted by the mention of wailing in v. 37). The parallel folk/mythological stories attribute a similar attitude to the female character (while the biblical Isaac – probably still being a child – cannot give his approval, and thus his sacrifice is categorically rejected; it has to be substituted by an animal offering). The story of Jephthah and his daughter may entail another topic as well. It has been often wondered whether the fact that it is set in Gilead has any bearing on the significance of the narrative. Significantly, in other biblical 126.  Cf. Abraham in Gen 22 (esp. v. 12) and Hannah in 1 Sam 1 (esp. vv. 11, 22, 28); see n. 80 above. 127.  The total defeat of the enemy, which YHWH provides for Jephthah (v. 33), is quite uncommon in the Hebrew Bible. See Soggin 1981, 219.

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43

passages, the name “Gilead,” denoting the eponymic hero of the territory and the father of Jephthah, repeatedly appears in the context of women’s inheritance (cf. Num 27:1–11; 36:1–12; Josh 17:1–6). It seems that the mention of Gilead (the eponymic hero) and the motif of women’s inheritance are inherently related to each other (cf. Judg 11:1–2, and all the other mentions of Gilead – the territory – throughout the narrative, especially in 11:29 right before Jephthah’s vow). The topic of women’s inheritance constitutes a major issue in terms of the social status of women. Thus it does not surprise us that a story which reports on exclusively female ritual(s) may also refer to an issue that is so important for the female half of the society. In sum, the biblical redactor/author of the narrative may have had a threefold reason to relate the story of Jephthah’s daughter. First, as we have seen, the narrative may have functioned as a deterrent for anyone thinking of offering a human sacrifice. This was done by presenting the dire consequences that naturally follow from such a deed. Secondly, the other reason for telling the story might have been to emphasize the utmost importance of respecting the rules of holiness, the instructions of the deity. Jephthah’s vow is irrevocable, the offered person, his daughter, is irredeemable, and he must not offend the holy sphere. On the other hand, this worldview presented in the text corresponds totally with the rules of the heroic world characterized by an honour/shame bifocal view (cf. DeMaris and Leeb 2006, 181): in this world of honour and shame the story of Jephthah’s vow effectively demonstrates the idea that keeping one’s word is absolutely essential (see Niditch 2008, 133). Last but not least, I have analyzed the well-planned balance that one can discern between the main characters of the narrative: YHWH, the father, and the girl. Besides, it is a crucial, emphasized point in the text that the girl’s request is granted, with her every action appearing in a very favourable light. Moreover, the female rite is clearly linked to her story, and not criticized at all. In addition, the girl’s marriageable age as well as her virginity are not omitted, although – as mentioned – they represent sensitive issues with reference to YHWH. On the contrary, they are crucial and integral parts of the narrative – this structure is probably intentional. All these features of the text may support the theory I have argued for – namely, that the author(s) may have had good reason to tell the story, that being to place the female rite and its foundation legend within their system of the “true” YHWH religion (while excluding the improper elements). The biblical representation of the story probably implies the acknowledgment of the ritual, since it appears in the text as a respectable ritual. This acknowledgment involves the right of women to have their own, exclusively female experience in a patriarchal society; and all this

44

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is set within a framework that may refer to the women’s rights of inheritance. Accordingly, it seems that the story directly intends to grant certain rights to the female half of the society (albeit within a patriarchal context). This acknowledgment of females is especially embodied in the figure of Jephthah’s daughter, the bride of YHWH. Table of Certain Concepts Discussed in Chapter 1 (Vocabulary of Holiness) Sphere of holiness Some notions and terms related to Some notions and terms related to the negative side of holiness the positive side of holiness (‫חרם )ליהוה‬ (‫חרם )ליהוה‬ ‫היה ליהוה‬: Judg 11:31 (see nn. 117, 116; cf. nn. 80, 16, 24, 25, 31) (‫קדש)־קדשים‬ ‫עולה‬: Judg 11:31; ‫ זבח‬and, generally, (‫טבח‬/‫זבח‬, meaning “slaughter,” sacrifice in a positive sense “sacrifice” in a negative sense)

1.3. Foreign Rite or Israelite Rite? The Female Rite Construed within the Jephthah Cycle128 As Mikael Sjöberg has claimed in his excellent book on the Jephthah narrative, “relationships to what is foreign” constitute “a major theme” in the cycle (Sjöberg 2006, 55). I would add that the issue of foreignness pertains to the more comprehensive motif of strangeness, otherness. This is one aspect of the story, but it is absolutely fundamental in and significant to every part of the narrative. In the following I will examine this motif in each major unit of the biblical story as well as in the whole narrative. I have treated the diachronic considerations with reference to the Jephthah narrative (cf. sections 1.1 and 1.1.7), mentioning the proposal of Römer.129 David Janzen has also treated the same issue, and he especially has concentrated on the motif of foreignness. Thus it is essential to interact with Janzen’s arguments again in this section.130 Since I have also contributed to this debate elsewhere,131 I will not lay out my position in an extensive way here: in the following I will simply pursue my preferred position, which is to regard the whole Jephthah cycle as a narrative 128.  This section is a somewhat modified version of Kamrada 2010. 129.  Römer 1998, 28–29. 130.  Janzen 2005. 131.  Cf. especially section 1.1.7 above.

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representing the Deuteronomistic ideas in its final form. It is my belief that it is possible to analyze the Jephthah cycle as a whole and within the larger context of the book of Judges132 as well as within the Deuteronomistic corpus. 1.3.1. Gilead As regards the historical background of the figure of Jephthah the Gileadite, Gösta W. Ahlström argues: “It is doubtful that Jephthah thought of himself as an Israelite. As is clear from Judg 11:8, the territory of Israel did not include Gilead, and during his lifetime there was as yet no nation of Israel… [He] may accordingly be viewed as [an] independent ruler in Transjordan.”133 This seems to be quite a typical position adopted by historians regarding the time and status of the judges. In the Jephthah narrative one may catch a glimpse of this historical background when reading of individual tribes (Judg 10:8–9:18; 11:5; 12:4–6), and the process of redaction can probably be perceived in the pan-Israelite picture formulated in 10:6, 10; 11:4, 12–28; 12:7.134 Jephthah is denoted in the cycle as a “Gileadite”; this is his permanent, stressed modifier (cf. the terms used at the beginning, middle, and end of his story in Judg 11:1, 40 and 12:7). The biblical presentation of Gilead is very complex and contradictory. While the precise location of the land of Gilead is never defined, it was definitely in Transjordan, somewhere between the River Arnon and the land of Bashan. In several Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic texts (Deut 3:12–17; Josh 1:12–15; 13:8–14, 25, 31; 18:7; 22:1–9), the land of Gilead is regarded as belonging to the tribes of Reuben, Gad,135 and half-of-Manasseh, that is, to the territory of Israel.136 This Deuteronomic/Deuteronomistic presentation of the status of Gilead appears to be the most relevant in the case of the Jephthah cycle. Gilead – more precisely the Mount of Gilead – is also mentioned in Judg 7:3, and another Gileadite judge, Jair, “who judged Israel” as Jephthah did according to 12:7, directly precedes Jephthah in the book of Judges (10:3–5). According to Pss 60:9 and 108:9, Gilead belongs to God’s 132.  In this respect my approach resembles that of, e.g., Webb 1987; Klein 1988; Bal 1988; Amit 1999; Polzin 1980; Sjöberg 2006. 133.  Ahlström 1993, 404. 134.  Sjöberg 2006, 29 n. 15. 135.  It is worth referring to the Mesha Inscription, which, although it dates from a later period than the so-called Age of the Judges, concerns more or less this particular region in Transjordan. It is especially significant that the Mesha Inscription mentions Gad (line 10). See Jackson and Dearman 1989, 94; Jackson 1989, 97. 136.  See Janzen 2005, 352.

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patrimony, and in some prophetic texts Gilead repeatedly appears in the positive context of restoration (Jer 50:19; Mic 7:14; Zech 10:10; Obad 19). Yet the priestly tradition seems to exclude Gilead from the territory of Israel (Num 34:12; Ezek 47:18), and Josh 22:19 regards Transjordan as unclean.137 In Judg 5:16–17 it is emphasized that Gilead and the tribe of Reuben do not help some Cisjordanian Israelite tribes in their war against the Canaanites. Nevertheless, in the final version of the Jephthah narrative Gilead is certainly regarded as part of (even representative of) Israel (cf. especially Judg 10:8; 11:5, 13–27, 39–40; 12:7). 1.3.2. Origins In addition to the uncertain status of the land of Gilead in biblical tradition, it is apparent that several motifs in the whole Jephthah cycle have strange or foreign connotations. Even before Jephthah appears on the scene, the author(s) lay(s) great stress on the list of the foreign nations whose practices and cults are imitated by the Israelites (Judg 10:6).138 This list is a unique feature in the narratives about the judges.139 The verse is generally considered to pertain to the Deuteronomistic introduction of the Jephthah cycle (10:6–16),140 and it can evidently be compared to the Deuteronomistic introduction of the whole book of Judges (2:6–3:6, especially to 2:11–13 and 3:5–6). It sets the tone for the whole narrative, underlining the motif of foreignness and strangeness at the very beginning of the Jephthah cycle. In many respects, Jephthah himself is regarded as an outsider, foreign to his own people in the cycle. He is the son of an ‫( אשה זונה‬Judg 11:1), of a prostitute, as the term is usually interpreted.141 (Mieke Bal has suggested that the phrase ‫ אשה זונה‬may not allude to an actual prostitute, but rather to a patrilocal wife, who lives with her father’s family.142) Mikael Sjöberg comprehensively summarizes the whole problem.143 The phrase can refer to sexual misconduct (fornication or prostitution),144 but it is also important that on the basis of the Deuteronomistic parallels (Deut 31:16; 137.  See Ottosson 1992. 138.  The Baals and Astartes mentioned in first position on the list are not necessarily regarded as foreign gods, but as deities different from the God of Israel. 139.  Janzen 2005, 346. 140.  See, e.g., Soggin 1981, 201. 141.  In the NRSV as well. What is even more striking about the expression is that the hero is specified by his mother (‫ )בן־אשה זנה‬and not by his father as is usual. 142.  Bal 1988, 177. 143.  Sjöberg 2006, 53–55. 144.  Sjöberg (2006, 53 n. 120) mentions the only parallel in the Deuteronomistic history, Deut 22:21 (Judg 19:2 is a controversial passage). Yet this aspect of the phrase is absolutely undeniable; see Erlandsson 1977, 613.

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Judg 2:7; 8:27, 33) it may imply not only moral, but also religious unfaithfulness.145 Moreover, Jephthah is the son of an ‫אשה אחרת‬, of “another woman” – that is, of someone other than the wife of Jephthah’s father. This term, however, also has an additional meaning. The “otherness” expressed by the phrase can have an ethnic connotation.146 As Sjöberg emphasizes, the foreign woman is presented in a negative light and intermarriage results in apostasy according to the Deuteronomistic ideas (cf. especially Deut 7:1–6; Judg 3:5–8). Furthermore, the two terms (‫ זנה‬and ‫ )אחר‬applied together with reference to Jephthah’s mother can remind one of the expression ‫ זנו אחרי אלהים אחרים‬in the Deuteronomistic introduction of Judges (2:17), a phrase which appears in slightly different forms throughout the Hebrew Bible in reference to the worship of foreign deities, that is, deities other than the God of Israel.147 This possible reference to idolatry and apostasy in relation to Jephthah’s mother is especially significant in the light of the introduction of the cycle, which records that Israel abandoned YHWH and worshipped other (foreign) deities.148 In sum, Jephthah’s mother seems to be in various (sexual, ethnic, socio-economic, moral, religious) respects a marginalized figure.149 Thus Jephthah’s origin on the maternal side is marginal and inferior; from this perspective he appears to be strange and foreign. Jephthah’s father, however, is called Gilead (Judg 11:1). As Robert Boling interprets this term, “that ‘Gilead had sired Jephthah’ explicates the statement that he was ‘son of a prostitute,’ father unknown.”150 Mikael Sjöberg shares this view. According to him, “the name is [probably] a personification of a district.”151 However, the personification of a territory can be best understood as the heros eponymos of that particular region or of the tribe dwelling there (cf. Num 26:29).152 According to this reading, Gilead, the 145.  Besides, cf., e.g., Hos 1:2; 2:7, 10; 3:3–4, where the two aspects (moral and religious unfaithfulness) of the verb ‫ זנה‬are combined. 146.  Sjöberg (2006, 54 n. 122) refers to Erlandsson (1973, 218). 147.  Cf. Exod 34:15–16; Deut 31:16; Lev 17:7; 20:5; Judg 8:27, 33; Ezek 6:9; 20:30; 1 Chr 5:25. For the phrase ‫ אלהים אחרים‬used in this negative sense, see particularly Judg 10:13, and, e.g., Deut 5:7; 6:14; 8:19; Josh 23:16; 24:2, 16; Judg 2:12, 19; 1 Sam 26:19 and also Exod 20:3; 23:13; Hos 3:1. Cf. also Judg 10:16. 148.  The parallel with Gideon (‫ זנה אחרי‬in Judg 8:27; cf. also v. 33) is all the more striking, because the cycles of Gideon and of Jephthah have other parallel features and motifs, as can be seen below. 149.  Sjöberg 2006, 54. 150.  Boling 1975, 197. 151.  Sjöberg 2006, 55 n. 130. 152.  Ottosson 1992.

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father of Jephthah, is the legendary (eponymous) ancestor of the clan. I have mentioned the connections linking the figure of Gilead (as well as the territory) to the issue of women’s inheritance (cf. section 1.2 above). Considering his paternal background, Jephthah can hardly be taken as a foreigner in the land of Gilead. Consequently, one can conclude that Jephthah possesses a double (contradictory or complementary) origin: he is as much a stranger, a foreigner, someone different, of inferior position as an inhabitant, someone native and familiar, of the highest possible origin in the clan. 1.3.3. Jephthah, the gibbôr ḥayil (‫)גבור חיל‬ The dire consequences of Jephthah’s double origin are expressed early on in the narrative, in Judg 11:2. This is evidently the basic crisis that sets the plot in motion (at least from the perspective of Jephthah). He has become an outlaw according to the text: he is expelled by his half-brothers from his father’s house and from Gilead itself on the basis of his maternal ancestry. Even in this respect he becomes a foreigner. He flees to the land of Tov. This place, the “good land,” is specified by Mieke Bal as a transitional space, even as the place of Jephthah’s initiation.153 Nevertheless, its basic feature is that it is outside, it is not the homeland of Jephthah, from where he has been driven away. Moreover, he is accompanied by some “empty men” (‫אנשים ריקים‬, v. 3) in this transitional space. Gregory Mobley has dedicated a whole monograph to the topic of these figures. The subtitle of his 2005 monograph, The Empty Men, defines more closely the scope of his examination: The Heroic Tradition of Ancient Israel. In his work, Mobley describes the “empty men” as people probably lacking kinship affiliation and land: “Abimelech (Judg 9:4),154 Jephthah (Judg 11:3), and David (1 Sam 22:2) all, for one reason or another, are alienated from society and form gangs.”155 Both Jephthah and David are called ‫( גבור חיל‬Judg 11:1; 1 Sam 16:18), an expression which may mean “hero of strength, mighty man of valour, wealthy man, powerful/capable warrior.”156 These capable warriors are associated with the empty men; they apparently live the life of raiders (Judg 11:3; 1 Sam 27:8) and mercenaries (Judg 11:4–11; 1 Sam 28:1).157 Jephthah among the “empty men” is 153.  Bal 1988, 199. 154.  It is worth mentioning that Abimelech too has an inferior origin on the maternal side (Judg 8:31; his mother was a concubine of Gideon’s from Shechem), and precisely this background forms the basis for his story (see 9:1–6). 155.  Mobley 2005, 36. 156.  See, e.g., Kosmala 1973, 910. 157.  Mobley 2005, 38.

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an outlaw; he lives outside the Gileadite society. And yet, he will be a ‫ראש‬ (a “clan head”) over Gilead (Judg 10:18; 11:8), a title which, according to Timothy Willis,158 probably involved being a direct descendant of the eponymous ancestor of the clan. So, even while an outlaw, Jephthah is imbued with potential – he is the son of Gilead, and he is eligible to become a leader of the Gileadites. Thus, from one perspective Jephthah is on the outside, while from another he is inside of society. This kind of liminal existence reminds us of the liminal identity of warrior heroes, which I have already described above.159 This liminal identity is characterized by the warriors’ comings and goings and crossings, as has been mentioned.160 This transitional, liminal status, the potential of being in or out of the society, seems to be typical of Jephthah, the ‫גבור‬. Precisely this aspect of his character represents the basis for the plot of Jephthah’s narrative. It seems that his basic motivation throughout the story is to find his way back into the Gileadite society, to strengthen his position as a leader of Gilead, ceasing to be a foreigner, an outsider.161 According to the presentation of the narrative, this is probably his main motivation when taking his fatal vow: he wants to secure his victory and, so doing, his position in Gilead at all costs.162 As Richard DeMaris and Carolyn Leeb (2006, 180) put it, An ambiguous or inconsistent honor rating cannot stand in a world defined by honor and shame. As anthropogist Julian Pitt-Rivers notes, such uncertainty must be resolved… Hence we claim that the inconsistency in Jephthah’s honor ranking introduced at the beginning of the story is the crisis that engenders the many rites of the Jephthah story. Indeed, what ties the whole narrative together is the resolution of that ambiguity and contradiction through a series of rites.

158.  Willis 1997, 41. 159.  Cf. section 1.2 above. 160.  The verbs ‫יצא‬, ‫ בוא‬or ‫שוב‬, and ‫ עבר‬express their going out, returning and crossing before, after and during battle. Cf. section 1.2 above. 161.  Houtman and Spronk (2007, 19–20) present the theory of Drewermann (1995, 297–312), who regards the Ammonite war of Jephthah as a result of his compensating for his ambiguous origin (being a “Hurenkind”). Similarly, Bal (1988, 23) argues that “Jephthah’s primary existential goal is to deserve that modifier [‫חיל‬, i.e. ‫]גבור חיל‬, and thus to compensate the loss of status in history as the son of a ‘harlot’.” Willis (1997, 42) reads even the battle with the Ammonites and the conflict between Jephthah and the Ephraimites as his attempt to claim “authority over clans of Manasseh and Ephraim,” that is, as a consequence of his personal ambition. 162.  Kamrada 2009, 74–75.

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DeMaris and Leeb (2006) point to the series of rites that forms the basis of the story. Many of these rites concern the figure of Jephthah, the ‫גבור‬ (cf., e.g., the ritual of his disinheritance, and especially the ritual of return from battle mentioned in section 1.2), while some of them are specifically female rituals connected to the figure of his daughter (see below). 1.3.4. Reacceptance and Rise to Power Under the Ammonite threat the elders of Gilead appeal to Jephthah for help. Cheryl Exum draws attention to the parallel between the presentation of Jephthah in this situation and that of YHWH in the introduction of the cycle.163 Both YHWH and Jephthah have been rejected and abandoned/ driven away by the Israelites/Gileadites, and to both of them the people have appealed for help when in trouble; the first reaction of each of them is reproach (cf. Judg 10:11–14; 11:7). From the religious perspective too Jephthah appears in contrasting ways: being the son of an ‫ אשה זונה‬he has a questionable, strange background in the religious sense, yet he is also presented as a parallel figure to the character of YHWH in the narrative. Jephthah is made ‫ קצין‬and ‫ ראש‬over the Gileadites (Judg 11:11). Several suggestions have been made to interpret these two terms.164 What seems to be generally accepted is that ‫ קצין‬refers to a military leader, while the title ‫ ראש‬denotes a civil leader, probably the head of the clan/tribe. For holding the latter position one evidently needed to be a member of full value in the clan. According to Timothy Willis, that is why Jephthah is not offered the title of ‫ ראש‬at first, only the title of ‫( קצין‬11:6), for he has to be reinstated to his earlier status – recognized as a full member of the clan – before becoming the head of the clan.165 Jephthah’s reaction to the offering of the title of ‫ קצין‬seems to support this proposal, his reproach underlining that he was disinherited and driven away – that is, he was deprived of his tribal status (11:7). In answer to his reproach, he is offered the title of ‫“ ראש‬over all the inhabitants of Gilead” (11:8). By this gesture Jephthah certainly appears to be acknowledged again as a full member of the community. At this point in the narrative it seems that he ceases to be an outsider, a stranger. As Cheryl Exum claims, however, Jephthah can keep his position of a chief and leader only if he succeeds in the Ammonite war.166 One may infer this from the suggestion made by Jephthah when he proposes that he will be a leader (“head”) of Gilead if he defeats the Ammonites (11:9). 163.  Exum 1992, 48. 164.  See Willis 1997, 34–35, 40–42, for literature as well. 165.  Willis 1997, 35. 166.  Exum 1992, 55.

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His proposition is accepted (11:10) – he is appointed as ‫ ראש‬before the war (11:11), but the keeping of his position probably depends on his military success. He has to fight, literally, to keep his status as a chief or even as a full member of the Gileadite society, ceasing to be a foreigner, getting rid of his maternal heredity. This seems to be his main motivation in the following events of the narrative. 1.3.5. Jephthah and the Ammonites In the long negotiation scene (11:12–28) Jephthah evidently behaves as a member of the Gileadite community against the Ammonites. He even identifies himself with the Gileadites,167 speaking in their name: “What is there between you and me, that you have come to me to fight against my land?” (Judg 11:12, NRSV). In Judg 11:13–27 he even pronounces in the name of all Israel, and precisely this passage is usually regarded as being an interpolation inserted into an older tradition (cf. Num 21:21–35; Deut 1–3).168 Jephthah’s argumentation is based on international law and theology: “the territories belong to those who received them from their particular deities.”169 While the common rules of international law point to a similarity between the Ammonites and the Israelites, the stress laid on the issue of “just war” emphasizes the otherness. Jephthah claims just cause for engaging in war;170 he underlines that “it is not I who have sinned against you, but you are the one who does me wrong by making war on me. Let the Lord, who is judge, decide today for the Israelites or for Ammonites” (Judg 11:27, NRSV). By referring to divine judgment over the two hostile parties Jephthah stresses otherness, a great contrast between the two peoples. As Susan Niditch argues, in order to justify the killing it is essential to delineate between “us” and “them,” and this justification (recognizing the otherness in someone) is evidently much easier in cases of a people considered to be “outside” the group.171 However, it is not at all impossible to kill within the group, as can be seen in the other sections of the narrative.

167.  Sjöberg 2006, 55. 168.  Soggin 1981, 211. This presentation corresponds with the pan-Israelite picture of the final version of the book of Judges; cf. especially the figures of the (“major” and “minor”) judges who ruled over or delivered all Israel (3:9–11, 15; 8:27–28; 9:22; 10:1–5; 12:8–14; 13:5; 15:20; 16:31). 169.  Soggin 1981, 213. 170.  Niditch 1993, 125. 171.  See Niditch (1993, 17–18, 21) for literature as well. She also summarizes the most relevant theories of anthropologists on the question of war providing a proper base for the examination of the biblical texts on war.

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1.3.6. Ephraim and Gilead The last episode of the Jephthah cycle concerns the conflict between the Ephraimites and the Gileadites (Judg 12:1–6). From both the diachronic and synchronic perspectives, the two episodes of the conflicts with the Ammonites, and with the Ephraimites respectively enclose the story of Jephthah’s daughter. As has already been mentioned, Mikael Sjöberg points out that the real climax of the cycle is the daughter’s story.172 Therefore, I will discuss the Ephraimite episode at this point before analyzing the story of Jephthah’s daughter. Some texts in the book of Judges refer to certain tensions between different tribes, and even between the western and eastern regions, the Cisjordanian and the Transjordanian population. As has been remarked above, Judg 5:16–17 states that Gilead and the tribe of Reuben (along with other tribes) do not help some Cisjordanian Israelite tribes in their war against the Canaanites. The conflict between Gideon (of Manasseh) and the Ephraimites (8:1–3) constitutes a prelude and a remarkable parallel to Judg 12. In Judg 12, precisely in the Jephthah cycle, the tension between the Cisjordanian Ephraimites and the Transjordanian Gileadites results in a pitched battle, one in which many Ephraimites are killed. It is a stressed point in the episode that the Ephraimite accent is different from that of the Gileadites, and that this is a key element in revealing Ephraimite identity (vv. 5–6). This motif about the different accents especially underlines that Ephraimites and Gileadites are in a sense “foreign” to each other. On the other hand, the slight difference which marks off the two dialects of the virtually same language highlights that their seeming otherness is essentially superficial. However, in contrast to the episode with Gideon (8:1–3), the Ephraimites behave in such an extremely hostile way that they really appear as the enemies of Jephthah and Gilead: they make a lethal threat against him, and they obviously intend to attack Gilead (12:1). Their accusation that Jephthah did not call them to join him in the fight against the Ammonites is refuted by him. It is not completely clear whose version of the events reflects reality,173 but Jephthah’s reproach that they did not come to the aid of the Gileadites puts the Ephraimites in a very unfavourable light. After all, Jephthah is a saviour of Gilead/Israel, and, according to him, they did not help the work of the hero driven by the spirit of YHWH (11:29). In this presentation, the Ephraimites appear to be foreign.174 Yet they also appear as 172.  Sjöberg 2006, 28. Cf. section 1.1 above. It is apparent that the story of Jephthah’s daughter is not independent from the Ammonite war account (see Sjöberg). 173.  Note that Jephthah does not pass through Ephraim when probably calling men to war (11:29). 174.  See Janzen 2005, 353.

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a cognate people of the Gileadites, since they claim rule over the Gileadites on the basis of their relation, some kind of kinship (12:4). It makes the function of Jephthah’s reproach (and of the accusation of the Ephraimites) more understandable. As Susan Niditch observes, based on other instances outside and within the biblical literature, in order “to kill within the group, one must…turn one’s own people into the other.”175 Also, the Ephraimites die as the foreign enemies of Israel, in a strikingly similar way (by the fords of Jordan) as the Midianites were killed by the Ephraimites themselves in the Gideon cycle (Judg 7:24–25). Accentuating otherness between related groups may serve an additional function in the episode. It presents the idea that “war may lead to a new stability by increasing group solidarity among those who unite against ‘the enemy’,”176 in this case among the Gileadites (cf. the scornful remarks of the Ephraimites in 12:4). Regarding the book of Judges as a whole, it is definitely noticeable how the conflicts between the different groups/tribes become ever more violent (see above), resulting in the near-extermination of a whole tribe, Benjamin (Judg 20).177 However, the motif of intermarriage between the Benjaminites and the girls of Jabesh-Gilead and Shiloh (Judg 21) alleviate the consequences of the fatal conflict to some extent.178 As has been mentioned, in the Jephthah cycle the episodes of warring with the foreign and with the seemingly foreign – though actually related – enemies (i.e. the Ammonites and the Ephraimites respectively) enclose the story of Jephthah’s daughter. Still, it is striking that, after Jephthah’s battle with a foreign people, the military campaign against the Ephraimites, his own kin, directly follows the sacrificing – that is, the killing – of his own child. 1.3.7. Father and Daughter The story of Jephthah’s vow and the sacrifice of his daughter is the most well-known part of the cycle. Juan Alberto Soggin expresses quite a common view when he argues that the episode serves as an “aetiology for the celebration of a rite…practised in a peripheral area [namely Gilead] which was unimportant for Israelite worship generally.”179 However, the ritual commemoration of the story of Jephthah’s daughter is definitely 175.  Niditch 1993, 21. 176.  Niditch 1993, 22. 177.  Cf. the well-known pattern of spiralling decline in the book. See, e.g., O’Brien 1994, 236. 178.  This intermarriage has to be interpreted within the context of the heroic world, not from a modern perspective. 179.  Soggin 1981, 218. Cf. Boling 1975, 210.

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called an “Israelite” rite in the text, performed by the Israelite girls, even if the story itself is about a Gileadite heroine (Judg 11:39–40). Furthermore, the rite is quite clearly treated as an Israelite one at the time of the author(s) of the text. Moreover, as mentioned, in the Jephthah narrative, the name (and the place) “Gilead” may refer to an issue that concerns the entire female population of Israel, namely the question of women’s inheritance (see section 1.2 above). This circumstance can also indicate that the women’s ritual was indeed an all-Israelite custom. Nevertheless, David Janzen claims that the rite represents foreign morality within Israel from the Deuteronomistic perspective.180 In his reading, Jephthah’s sacrifice of his daughter itself represents a foreign type of sacrifice, that is, a sacrifice typical of the foreign peoples surrounding Israel. He states that the episode and the whole cycle actually express the Deuteronomistic condemnation of foreign practices. For my part, I share Janzen’s view that the narrative corresponds with the Deuteronomistic concepts. (I have treated this issue in detail above; cf. esp. sections 1.1.7 and 1.2.) In my opinion, when taken as whole the entire narrative does not necessarily suggest condemnation.181 Certain elements definitely appear in a sinister light, such as Jephthah’s vow and the actual sacrifice of his own child, which deprives him of offspring. Yet the self-sacrifice of the adult daughter seems to be accepted or even required by the deity. Moreover, as I pointed out in section 1.1.5, child sacrifice probably did take place in the midst of Israel – it was not in reality a “foreign” practice. Therefore I do not think that the story of Jephthah’s daughter expresses the notion of the foreign (the “other”) in the sense that David Janzen suggests. I do not share his view that the narrative serves to condemn foreign practices. Yet it is striking that Jephthah, in his first reaction when facing his daughter, addresses her as if she were his enemy (Judg 11:35). Esther Fuchs draws attention especially to the verb ‫עכר‬, translating the phrase used by Jephthah as “you have been among my enemies,” mentioning that ‫“ עכר‬is usually associated with military enemies.”182 I think it is even more plausible to interpret the verb ‫ עכר‬as “to bring into trouble or misfortune,”183 as we have seen (cf. section 1.1.3 above). Nevertheless, it is certainly one of the key words in the vocabulary of war.184 The subsequent

180.  Janzen 2005, 348. See also Soggin 1981, 218. 181.  See Martin 1975, 145. 182.  Fuchs 1989, 39. 183.  Fuchs 1989, 40: “you are among my troublers.” 184.  Cf. Josh 6:18; 7:25; 1 Sam 14:29; 1 Kgs 18:17; 1 Chr 2:7. For a discussion on the usage of ‫עכר‬, see Kamrada 2009, 66, 73.

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expression, ‫כרע‬, adds more details to this dire picture (cf. sections 1.1.3 and 1.2 above).185 According to the presentation of the narrative, Jephthah apparently feels defeated by his daughter, as if by an enemy in battle. His daughter appears to be the “other,” the stranger, the enemy to him. How are we to interpret this attitude of Jephthah towards his daughter in the text? Blaming the victim is a usual human reaction. Yet the author(s) of the narrative may have intended to express more than that. The verb ‫יצא‬ plays a central role in the formulation of Jephthah’s vow, and it occurs four times in the short episode of Jephthah’s daughter (Judg 11:31 [×2], 34, 36; cf. also 11:3). David Marcus (1986, 10) raises the question: “Why is there a double introductory formula [in the vow], hayyôṣē ‘whoever goes out’ and ’ašer yēṣē’ ‘whoever goes out,’ when one would suffice?” His explanation, in accordance with the commonly held opinion, is that “this is a dittography or an editorial gloss of sorts, and that one or the other phrase should be omitted” (1986, 22). However, I would prefer to apply the usual method of lectio difficilior, and not to omit something just because it is difficult to explain. In my opinion, this wording may well be intended, and the purpose of the author(s) could be to emphasize the verb ‫ יצא‬and the phrase ‫אשר יצא‬, “whoever goes out,” since they are a key word and a key term in the passage. As David Marcus convincingly argues (1986, 13–14), the phrase ‫ אשר יצא‬more than likely indicates a person, not an animal. Furthermore, Marcus remarks that “it is reasonable to assume that Jephthah made his vow fully aware of the Israelite custom of maidens coming out to greet a victor after battle” (1986, 15). This custom is also attested in Exod 15:20 and 1 Sam 18:6–7 (cf. also Judg 4:18), and in all these scenes the verb ‫ יצא‬is applied. As has been mentioned above, warriors, the “liminal heroes,” were depicted as men going out (‫יצא‬, cf. especially Judg 11:3 for Jephthah) to fight, and returning (‫ בוא‬or ‫שוב‬, cf. 11:31, 34) from the battlefield. These warriors leave house and city to engage in war, they go “outside,” and when returning the women help them by singing and dancing, aiding their re-entry into the community. This homecoming ritual may have been a real custom, and Gregory Mobley specifies it as a rite of passage.186 Thus the warriors are presented in some biblical texts dealing with war as having the potential of being “outside,” the “other.” As Mobley puts it, women attempt to pacify them, “to defend society from excessive violence…cultivated on the battlefield.”187

185.  See Day 1989, 67 n. 3. 186.  Mobley 2006, 105. 187.  Mobley 2006, 105–8.

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Nevertheless, this attempt to appease the violent warriors – while necessary – evidently carried an element of risk for the women involved. I have already treated the issue of the very dangerous state warriors fall into when fighting (cf. section 1.2). In this connection it is worth noting that Bernhard Lang, in a study of the Samson narrative, succinctly summarizes this issue as follows: “The warriors’ rage can only be moderated by the massacre of a large number of enemies. Even then he still may have to be calmed down, as was the case with the Irish hero Chú Chullain, who returned from the battle in a dangerous warlike temper. Similarly, even after having killed thirty men, Samson remained in a fury (14:19)” (Lang 2008, 135; he refers to Dumézil, Lincoln and Mobley, see my argumentation in section 1.2). Looking again at the Classical account of Horatius, it is notable that Horatia, similar to the Israelite women, comes out to greet a male warrior (her brother) upon his return home from overcoming his enemies. On this occasion, the female greeter is stabbed to death by the returning warrior (cf. section 1.2). Horatius sees his sister as his enemy’s bride, since Horatia cries over the death of her fiancé, who fell in the duel (cf. section 1.1). Returning to Judges, Jephthah’s reaction when catching sight of his daughter may be read in a similar sense: returning from the battlefield, he regards his own beloved one, the member of his group, as “the other,” the enemy.188 The idea mentioned above imposes itself here as well: “to kill within the group, one must…turn one’s own people into the other.”189 To go out to greet the returning warriors may be dangerous. However, it seems that Jephthah’s daughter runs an additional risk when coming out. She is a ‫בתולה‬, a girl of marriageable age (cf. section 1.2 above).190 Cheryl Exum claims that ‫“ בתולה‬is a liminal stage, marked by insecurity and danger, a point of transition symbolizing the death of one phase in a young woman’s life and the preparation for a new one.”191 A girl of marriageable age, existing between the positions of daughter and wife, is exposed to extreme danger. “The status of virgins in Judges is narratively related to death, rape, and abduction.”192 This is particularly apparent in Judg 19 188.  Cf. the picture of Saul, the warrior king, in 1 Sam 18:10–11 (Mobley 2006, 82), who has his spear in his hand while already being at home, “within his house,” and who proves to be dangerous for David, his own warrior – Saul attempts to kill David, according to the narrative. 189.  Niditch 1993, 21. 190.  Cf. Judg 11:37–38: ‫ בתולים‬meaning “marriageable age/status.” See Wenham 1972; Keukens 1982; Bal 1988, 46–48; Day 1989, 59–60. 191.  Exum 1992, 67. 192.  Bal 1988, 42.

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and 21. In Judg 19 (vv. 23–24), the host offers his own young, nubile daughter (‫ )בתולה‬to the violent men of Gibeah in order to protect his guest from sexual assault (cf. Gen 19:6–8). In Judg 21:21, the young women of Shiloh are abducted by the Benjaminites as wives, just as the nubile girls (‫ )בתולה‬rescued from the ḥērem (‫ )חרם‬extermination of Jabesh-Gilead are given as wives to some of them (vv. 12, 14). It is also striking that in both texts danger threatens women (not only nubile girls) in a liminal/outside location. In Judg 19, the concubine of the guest (a Levite) is put out of the house, whereupon she is raped until she dies; the young, nubile daughter of the host is also offered together with concubine, but in the end the daughter stays in the house unharmed. “To put out” is expressed by the Hiphil form of the verb ‫( יצא‬literally “cause to go out,” vv. 24, 25). In all, ‫ יצא‬occurs five times in the passage (in vv. 22, 23, 24, 25, 27), alongside such terms as ‫“( חוץ‬the outside”), ‫“( דלת‬door”), ‫“( פתח‬opening, doorway”), ‫פתח‬ (“open”), ‫“( סף‬threshold”), and ‫“( בית‬house”), which seems to be a key word. It seems that going out of the house in this text symbolizes entry into a dangerous outside location, a threatening liminal place, where one faces death. Note a parallel phenomenon in Exod 12:22–23 and Josh 2:19; in both texts it is apparent that under extraordinary circumstances – e.g. in war – the outside location, outside the house, can be dangerous to anyone. In Judg 21 too the nubile girls go/come out (‫ )יצא‬to dance, that is why they can easily be abducted by the Benjaminites as wives (though this danger cannot be compared to the lethal rape of the Levite’s concubine). The dancing of the Shilonite girls is depicted as a usual festive event, a kind of ritual; the maidens probably go out to celebrate something. The picture of “going out for a ritual activity” can remind us of the ritual retreat of Jephthah’s daughter with her companions (11:37–38). As already discussed, several scholars regard the female festival mentioned in 11:39b–40 as a female initiation or pre-marital rite of passage, and I have argued that the ritual retreat and the whole story about the vow and sacrifice make up a foundation legend for the rite (cf. section 1.2 above).193 Jephthah’s daughter and her companions wander the mountains, lamenting “before she reaches maturity/during her time as a marriageable girl” (11:37, 38).194 Mieke Bal argues that “Arnold van Gennep’s (1960) concept of the rites of passage imposes itself here. The mountains are the wilderness that represents the transition from one life-phase to the next as from one world to the next. 193.  See Keukens 1982; Bal 1988, 41–68, esp. 49; Day 1989, 60; Gerstein 1989, 186–87, applying Turner 1969; Rooke 2006, 258. Cf. also Römer 1998, 35–36. On the plausibility of the theory, see Kamrada 2009, 81–82. 194.  On the phrase, see Keukens 1982.

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It represents the solitude the initiate has to undergo.”195 What cannot be denied is that the biblical text presents a kind of ritual (exclusively female) retreat to an outside location, namely the mountains. This is the “other, strange place” Jephthah’s daughter withdraws to with her companions, evidently for the purposes of performing some kind of ritual. Cornelis Houtman and Klaas Spronk draw attention to the usual biblical depiction of mountains as a dangerous place.196 And yet, mountains, and wilderness more generally, can also be a place of theophany in biblical texts, as we see, for instance, in the Sinai/Horeb traditions (cf. especially Exod 19:20–24 for the dangerous nature of such a theophany).197 Thus sacred, ritual events are also associated with such perilous outside places as the mountains in the Hebrew Bible. The ritual “going out” of the Shilonite girls and the retreat of Jephthah’s daughter and her companions fit these biblical concepts. Following the logic of the rite-of-passage theory, the coming out of Jephthah’s daughter in the biblical presentation may be summarized as follows: being a ‫בתולה‬, she is in a transitional, dangerous position between two life-stages (of being daughter and wife). She has just become a nubile woman. Since she probably knows about her father’s vow (cf. 1.1.7 above), she runs extreme risk by coming out of her father’s house to greet the returning warrior. Nevertheless, it was probably usual for (nubile) women to go out to greet the returning warriors.198 To undertake her new position – her new status as a nubile woman – it may even have been essential for her to go out and engage in the greeting ritual performed by all adult women, and this even if she possessed knowledge of the terms of her father’s vow.199 Were she to remain in the house, it may well have seemed that she did not wish to take on her new status. In fact, quite the opposite is true: as we see from her later request to participate in an all-female retreat, she actively strives to be “initiated” into her new position. It seems that in order to become a nubile woman it was essential for Jephthah’s daughter to come out of her father’s house – in a literal and a metaphorical sense. Yet, by coming out, she faces and even confronts her 195.  Bal 1988, 49. David Marcus refers to classical mythology where “the virgin goddess Artemis had her residence on the mountains,” mentioning that “according to Epiphanius, Jephthah’s daughter was worshipped as a goddess Koré-Persephoné by the people of Shechem…[as] a deity by the side of Artemis herself.” See Marcus 1986, 30, 61 n. 32. For a detailed discussion, see Day 1989. 196.  Houtman and Spronk 2007, 8. They refer to Exod 32:12; 2 Kgs 2:16; Isa 14:25; Ezek 32:5; 39:4. 197.  Cf. also 1 Kgs 19:8–13 about Elijah meeting God on the Mount of Horeb. 198.  Mobley 2006, 105. 199.  See Marcus 1986, 60 n. 1.

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father. In the account preserved in the biblical text, Jephthah feels defeated by his daughter; his first reaction is to recognize “the other,” the enemy in her. As Mikael Sjöberg puts it, “it appears as if contact with the opposite sex [i.e. his mother and daughter] implies great risk of social prestige for Jephthah.”200 Mieke Bal interprets his reaction as the fear of losing his paternal power over his daughter.201 According to her, gender-related problems constitute a major theme in the whole book of Judges.202 Mikael Sjöberg observes that “vows involving virgins/daughters frame the book”203 (cf. Judg 1:12; 21:1); on the other hand, the story of Jephthah’s daughter “occupies the exact middle of the book.”204 The picture outlined by Jephthah’s accusation of his daughter is modified considerably by her reply (11:36–37). She points out to her father that he was the one who initiated the fatal vow, and, strikingly, this is expressed by the verb ‫יצא‬: “do to me according to what has gone out of your mouth” (v. 36, NRSV). The daughter also indicates to him who his real enemies are – the Ammonites, who attacked Gilead (v. 36). The “otherness” between Jephthah and the young woman is not neglected, and is even accentuated in her speech, especially by her request for an exclusively female retreat with her companions – something which places her outside the male (paternal) sphere. On the other hand, Mikael Sjöberg underlines that the term gibbôr (‫ )גבור‬also implies a reference to a “man as distinct from woman.”205 Thus it seems that Jephthah’s daughter re-interprets the relationship between her father and herself, with her words suggesting that, though they belong to the same community (“she returned to her father,” v. 39), they are also different. In a way, they belong to separate spheres, but they are not enemies to one another. This perspective is reinforced in the narrative by Jephthah’s acceptance of her words. It is, in fact, emphasized all the more, since the episode is enclosed between the accounts of the conflicts with the Ammonites and with the Ephraimites – two groups of people who appear as real, threatening enemies, foreign or related respectively, to Gilead and Jephthah. These groups contrast with the daughter, who is definitely not an enemy to Jephthah.

200.  Sjöberg 2006, 55. 201.  Bal 1988, 62–64. 202.  Bal (1988, 1) claims that “The Book of Judges is about death… And murder in this text is related to gender.” This concept forms the basis for the entire book. 203.  Sjöberg 2006, 62. 204.  Bal 1988, 72. 205.  Sjöberg 2006, 51.

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Up to this point, I have mainly concentrated on the social status held by the characters of the story. Yet the narrative can be observed in light of the folklore and mythological parallel stories as well (cf. section 1.1). In the above-mentioned folk tales, the father promises something to a superhuman (or subhuman but magical) being in exchange for his success, release, often for his life. In this light, the wording of Jephthah’s vow is even more significant: “when I return safe and sound from the Ammonites, s/he shall be YHWH’s, I shall offer him/her as a burnt offering” (Judg 11:31b). This wording implies that Jephthah is not only craving for success but is also afraid of being killed in the upcoming battle – so much so, that he actually offers the life of someone/his daughter in return for his own life (cf. Bauks 2010, 48–57, and the interpretation of Jephthah’s offering as an “Ersatzopfer”). Nevertheless, he may hope that someone else will be the victim (see above); moreover, knowing that his daughter probably hears of his taking the vow (see above), he may even intend to deter her by his vow from coming out of his house (i.e. from leaving him). With regard to Jephthah’s daughter, it can be observed that from the religious perspective her presentation is radically different from that of the mother of Jephthah. While the latter may be in a marginal position in this respect as well (i.e. unfaithful in the religious sense), according to the wording of Jephthah’s vow his daughter “shall be YHWH’s” (v. 31: ‫והיה‬ ‫)ליהוה‬. As I have noted, this term (‫ )היה ל‬in several biblical verses refers to a woman as wife of someone (see section 1.2 above),206 and, strikingly, in many versions of the above-mentioned folk pattern too the superhuman/ magical being marries the heroine. However, as has been analyzed above, the wording “s/he shall be YHWH’s” does not indicate some form of mythological interpretation, since the relationship between the deity and the girl is based on a sacrificial union. Still, in Jer 3:1, Ezek 16:8, and Hos 3:3 the phrase ‫ היה ל‬expresses “belong[ing] to someone (as a wife)” and the verb ‫ זנה‬means “commit fornication, be a harlot.” Such concepts are related to each other in the religious sense, to depict the relationship of YHWH and Israel. The basic religious crisis in the narrative (Israel’s unfaithfulness to YHWH), represented also by the figure of Jephthah’s mother, the ‫אשה‬ ‫“( זונה‬harlot, unfaithful woman” etc.), the ‫“( אשה אחרת‬another – the other – woman”), seems to be resolved by the positive relationship between YHWH and Jephthah’s daughter, who “becomes a law/prescription/custom in Israel”207 (‫ותהי חק בישראל‬, Judg 11:39). Metaphorically speaking, 206.  Cf. Lev 21:3; Deut 24:2; Judg 14:20; 15:2; Jer 3:1; Ezek 16:8; Hos 3:3; Ruth 1:13. 207.  See Sjöberg 2006, 66.

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Jephthah’s daughter proves to be a faithful bride of YHWH: coming out of her father’s house, she is not only ready and willing to become a nubile woman, but also accepts the role of the faithful bride. Furthermore, she does not flinch from her decision, and remains faithful to the deity. Although she experiences pain, sorrow, and, ultimately, death, she obtains union with the holy. By her sacrifice, being the faithful bride of the deity, she makes amends for the unfaithfulness of her people (represented also by the mother of Jephthah). By becoming “a law/prescription/custom in Israel,” she embodies faithfulness to the deity.208 In this light, my proposed reading – that the main reason for relating the episode of the vow and sacrifice may have been to acknowledge the female rite placing it in a proper (demythologized) form within the “true” YHWH religion – appears to receive even more support.209 As for the final evaluation of Jephthah in the narrative, at the end of the cycle it is stated that Jephthah was the judge of the whole of Israel (12:7). It seems that by the end of his story he is no longer regarded as a foreigner and stranger. Moreover, it is striking that Jephthah is mentioned as a positive judge figure in a text within the Deuteronomistic History (1 Sam 12:11). As his daughter embodies faithfulness to the deity, Jephthah also proves to be faithful to the deity in a certain respect. Indeed, Jephthah decides not to offend the holy sphere: he fulfils his irrevocable vow, and thus he gives up his daughter in favour of the deity. If one postulates that the deity really does expect self-sacrifice from the young adult girl, the resignation of his paternal power over his daughter earns some respect for Jephthah. Yet his willingness to offer his own child’s life in exchange for his own safety and success also results in dire consequences – he dies childless. Moreover, since Jephthah is a typical warrior hero, the killing of his own daughter can be read as the consequence of his dangerous liminal condition he bears upon his return from war. Turning against his own people or his family is the greatest possible flaw of a warrior hero (albeit a typical flaw, as will be discussed about Saul in Chapter 3). In what follows, in the Ephraimite episode, both Jephthah and the Ephraimites escalate this heroic animosity against their own people. This kind of typical heroic mentality will result in the civil war (almost a bellum omnium contra omnes) related in ch. 20 of the book of Judges.

208.  Considering this aspect of the story, it is not surprising that, according to the typological reading of the late medieval text Speculum Humanae Salvationis, Jephthah’s daughter is a type of the Virgin Mary. See Robinson 2004, 346 n. 61. 209.  Cf. section 1.2 above.

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1.3.8. Conclusion to “Foreign Rite or Israelite Rite?” In conclusion, the Jephthah cycle presents the theme of strangeness in various ways. Strangeness, in fact, is a leitmotif in the narrative. Right at the beginning Israel is alienated from YHWH, worshipping other and foreign deities. In terms of his maternal and paternal origin, Jephthah, the gibbôr (‫)גבור‬, has a double (contradictory or complementary) status and he has the potential of being inside and outside the Gileadite society. His main motivation throughout the story seems to be to find his way back to the clan, and to strengthen his position as a leader. As a warrior, a typical hero in the book of Judges, he has to face real enemies, both foreign (the Ammonites) and related (the Ephraimites). However, the central and most well-known episode is when he has to face his daughter. She, as a beṯûlāh (‫)בתולה‬, is in a dangerous transitional position. Yet she appears to undertake this new status of hers, and to put herself (perhaps deliberately) in danger when coming out to greet the returning ‫גבור‬, her father. In the presentation of the narrative, the otherness of man and woman is accentuated, yet it is crucial that they are not enemies. Besides, the religious alienation of the people formulated in the first part of the cycle and also represented by the figure of Jephthah’s mother, the ‫אשה זונה‬, the ‫אשה‬ ‫אחרת‬, seems to be resolved in the characterization of Jephthah’s daughter, who “shall be YHWH’s,” and who becomes “a law/prescription/custom in Israel” – the heroine of a female (initiation) rite, which, in this light, is not only tolerated, but embodies the true relationship to YHWH. 1.4. Conclusion to Chapter 1 The first chapter of this study has discussed various aspects and the most controversial points of the narrative recounting the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter. The most problematic issue is the motif of human sacrifice: How can it be depicted as an acceptable offering while several Deuteronomic/Deuteronomistic and other biblical texts condemn the sacrifice of one’s own child(ren)? The offering of Jephthah’s daughter is a totally irrevocable and irredeemable dedication in a positive sense. Her sacrifice is definitely not identical with any kind of ḥērem (‫ )חרם‬offering. In fact, her dedication sharply contrasts with the usual war-ḥērem, which means an offering to the deity in a negative sense. Nonetheless, the offering of Jephthah’s daughter can be paralleled to the positive ḥērem dedications devoted to YHWH. Like the ḥērem consecrations, the offering of Jephthah’s daughter, being an irrevocable and irredeemable dedication to YHWH, cannot be neglected and violated – it has to be fulfilled. Were the pledged sacrifice to go unperformed, extremely serious offence would

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be caused to the holy sphere, against the deity himself, since the persons/ objects which are irrevocably and irredeemably dedicated to the deity have already become “holy,” and they belong to the holy sphere forever. Were this principle violated, the great offence against the holy sphere would release the negative, destructive side of holiness (wrath of the deity, etc.), not only against Jephthah and his family but also against the whole of Israel. The story of Achan in Josh 7 gives a cogent example of this. Nevertheless, although it is crucial to avert destructive events befalling Israel, the decisive moment of the narrative is the turning point when the offering of Jephthah’s daughter proves to be a self-dedication, actually a self-sacrifice, of a young adult woman (a ‫ )בתולה‬to the deity. In the narrative, the context suggests that, when coming out to greet her father, Jephthah’s daughter is probably aware of the terms of his vow, and thus she not only consents to be a victim but even seems consciously to face this mortal danger. She does so in order to embrace her new status as an adult woman, and, in doing so, dedicates herself totally to the deity. (In contrast to this self-offering, the sacrifice of a son, bound on the altar, who – still being a boy, a ‫ – נער‬is not even able to decide for himself, is categorically not allowed to be performed in Gen 22. It has to be redeemed by animal sacrifice.) Concerning the role of YHWH, several points in the narrative suggest that the deity himself initiates the dedication (cf. the likely active role of the divine spirit – ‫ – רוח יהוה‬in the story of Jephthah’s daughter; see also the folklore parallels).210 This might explain why the offering is not criticized directly in the text (although the Deuteronomists clearly proclaim their condemnation elsewhere, even in the book of Judges).211 This structure and the circumstance that YHWH does not turn away, does not abandon Jephthah,212 serves to indicate that the deity accepts the sacrifice as the self-dedication of a young adult. Besides, YHWH appears as a “divine hero,” who receives the dedication as a reward for the victory he has achieved.213 Accordingly, through her self-offering, Jephthah’s daughter obtains a kind of “bride of the deity” status in a strictly figurative, spiritual, and non-mythological sense.

210.  See Judg 11:29–31. 211.  Cf. the story of Abimelech right before the Jephthah cycle, especially Judg 9:56–57; on Gideon and his family, cf. 8:27. 212.  In contrast, cf., e.g., the case of Samson in Judg 16:20 and that of Saul in 1 Sam 16:14. 213.  See Judg 11:30–31, 36; cf. Othniel, who is rewarded with the hand of Achsah for his victory in 1:12–13.

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On the other hand, Jephthah acts as an extremely ambitious “mighty hero” and a very cunning negotiator. Yet it seems that, like in the folklore and mythological parallels, the divine power (‫ )רוח יהוה‬gets the better of the father, since, in return for (military) success and his life, the father offers something he does not really intend to give up. However, Jephthah, albeit shocked and reluctant, finally renounces his paternal power and gives up his daughter in favour of the deity (cf. Judg 11:35). Although his decision averts divine wrath from Israel and himself, even so Jephthah has to suffer the severe consequences of his dire vow: he dies childless. His childlessness entails the ultimate disgrace possible  in a patriarchal society. Thus the narrative does not in any way condone human sacrifice. On the contrary, in fact, the story actually functions to deter parents from vowing to sacrifice their own children. It implies that only the self-offering of an adult individual can, in extreme circumstances such as war, sometimes be acceptable to the deity. Through her self-sacrifice, Jephthah’s daughter resolves the originally very deep alienation that existed between the people and the deity (cf. 10:6–16); she, as a “faithful bride” (who has proved faithful unto death), symbolizes devoted dedication to YHWH. She stands in sharp contrast to the mother of Jephthah, who appears to embody the unfaithfulness of Israel (cf. 10:6–11:2). Thus from a theological point of view, taking into account the very deep initial estrangement between Israel and YHWH depicted in 10:6–16, it is more understandable why the deity may expect and initiate an offering and a self-dedication to him. Accordingly, Jephthah’s daughter, as a symbolic founder of a female ritual, becomes a kind of “institution,” a “law/custom” in Israel, embodying faithfulness and dedication to YHWH. Inseparably related to this, she also embodies adult womanhood (‫ )בתולה‬and the female half of the society (“daughters of Israel,” cf. 11:40), their role and status, their right to inheritance, as well as the right of women to have their own exclusively female ritual(s) within a patriarchal society. In view of this context, it is highly significant that Jephthah’s daughter achieves her aim (cf. 11:37, 40) by creating a kind of balance between the interested parties – namely her father, herself, and YHWH, i.e. the male (heroic) and female halves of the society and the deity. As a result of her self-dedication, she also achieves the highest possible status, entering the holy sphere and, as a heroine, belonging to YHWH forever (she “will be YHWH’s”), becoming an “institution” in Israel. The core of the biblical story on the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter could well be a folk narrative, an aetiological story of a female ritual, as has often been argued. Moreover, it can be maintained that the author of the biblical narrative could hardly diverge from the folk story, since the

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biblical text itself asserts that the female ritual – to which the story is intimately and inseparable related as an aetiological account – was still in use in the author’s time.214 Therefore, if he wanted to be regarded as a reliable and faithful narrator, the author of the biblical narrative could not essentially alter the folk story that was likely well-known to his readers. Only one possible deviation from the folk story can be discerned: in the legendary/mythological narrative of the author’s time the “bride of the deity” motif could well entail the pattern of actual nuptials (after and through death) between the heroine and the deity. According to the present biblical version of the story, Jephthah’s daughter “will be YHWH’s” exclusively in sacrifice and self-dedication, in a strictly spiritual and non-mythological sense.

214.  Cf. Judg 11:39–40; on the interrelation of myth/legend and ritual, see the Introduction above.

Chapter 2 H a i ry S a m s on : T he F un c t i on of t h e H ai r M ot i f i n t h e S a m s on C y cle

The present chapter will examine the Samson cycle, which not only follows the Jephthah cycle in the book of Judges, but which also shares many common features with it. Even the main characters can easily be compared with one another – indeed, both Jephthah and his daughter can be likened to Samson, on the basis of their characteristics and the roles they play within the wider context of Judges. Section 2.5 below will present these parallel characteristics and will attempt to place the two cycles within the structure of the book of Judges. The Samson cycle is generally considered to contain many folklore motifs. The following examination will seek to provide an analysis of these, and will concentrate especially on the hair motif and its key role within the Samson cycle. After indicating certain basic motifs, or rather clusters of motifs, within the narrative, I will attempt to identify and associate them with those classified in Thompson’s Motif-Index of Folk-Literature. My belief is that this kind of analysis will prove especially revealing when we come to consider some of the more problematic elements of the Samson cycle. In addition, this chapter will seek to identify these basic folklore motifs/groups of motifs in other biblical texts (especially one in the book of Judges), and offer an investigation of them in a wider biblical context. Some Greek and Mesopotamian parallels will also be highlighted. 2.1. Samson: A Hero with Folklore and/or Mythological Characteristics Many scholars have dealt with the Samson narrative, examining it from the perspective of folklore, anthropology, or comparative religious studies. For instance, David Bynum (1990) describes Samson as a wild man (cf. Gunkel 1913). This figure, the wild man, is well-known in folklore, and it also appears in Greek mythology. The Greek wild men cited by Bynum as the

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parallels of Samson are the Centaurs and Heracles (1990, 66–68). Samson has also been frequently compared to various other mythological and epic characters, such as Orion, Enkidu, and Gilgamesh (see Mobley 2006). Othniel Margalith (1985, 1986a, 1986b, 1987) even attempted to trace the figure of Samson directly back to that of Heracles. Another interesting approach is Robert Wenning and Erich Zenger’s (1982) identification of Samson with a naked figure well-known in Mesopotamian iconography, a figure who is often depicted in contest scenes with animals, and whose distinguishing feature is his hair. This figure is generally considered to be Laḫmu, “the hairy one” (see below in more detail). In earlier scholarship, the followers of the astral mythology school found numerous elements in the biblical text, including the hair motif, which can be connected to solar mythology (Steinthal 1877; Palmer 1913). Though the solar theory lost widespread support long ago, there is a growing tendency in the more recent scholarly literature to attribute some solar features to Samson. Advocates of this reasoning include J. D. Martin (1975, 152), J. A. Soggin (1981, 231), B. (F. C.) Lindars (1983, 11), J. G. Taylor (1993, 93–95), and John Day (2000, 162–3; see also Crenshaw 1979, 16). All in all, one can conclude that it is generally acknowledged that the Samson narrative contains many folklore and/or mythological motifs, and one of them is the hair motif, more precisely the theme of “magic strength resides in hair.” 2.2. The Hair Motif and Connected Ideas in the Samson Cycle and Parallel Motifs in Folk Literature As far back as 1913, Hermann Gunkel regarded the motif of strength residing in the hair as the core theme of the Delilah episode, which he considered to have constituted the “original” Samson saga (Gunkel 1913, 55). James Crenshaw (1979, 95–96) even pointed out that the hair motif is foundational to the entire Samson cycle, while Soggin (1981, 258) argued that this theme “cannot in any way be eliminated.” Similarly, Susan Niditch (1990, 612–13) has maintained that the theme is absolutely central and essential to the narrative as a whole. On the basis of this theory, I will take it as an axiom in this study that the hair motif and the connected ideas formed a basis for the narrative. I will, however, also touch upon the main arguments that support this assumption. My approach stands in contrast to the many diachronic attempts that have been made to separate the miraculous birth account (ch. 13),1 the Delilah episode, and/or the account 1.  On the subject, see n. 9. Soggin (1981, 236) regards ch. 13 as a theological introduction that was added later to the story of Samson’s exploits.

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of Samson’s death (ch. 16)2 from the middle part of the narrative, which recounts Samson’s heroic exploits (chs. 14 and 15).3 The present study will concentrate, on the one hand, on the very basic structure of the story, paying particular attention to the central hair motif and its connected concepts, while, on the other hand, trying to observe these motifs in the final form of the narrative. The objective is to demonstrate the basic similarity to the presumed “original” (folk) story and also the possible changes in tone and presentation. Thus, this approach combines the investigation of the literary motifs with a diachronic perspective.4 It is important to make clear that the assumption that folklore motifs may have formed the basis for the Samson narrative does not in any way exclude the possibility that it contains historical data. The folklore structure may have constituted the form of the “original” saga; many stories on historical personages were presented in a folklore/mythological form (cf. the legends concerning Gilgameš; Kim 1993, 44). Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly difficult to connect Samson to any presumed historical events or to a certain place (in contrast with, e.g., Gilgameš, who is said to rule Uruk; cf. Crenshaw 1979, 645). Thus, in the light of the folktale nature of his adventures, Samson appears to be more of a folklore character than a historical person, while the stories associated with him definitely contain some historical elements. In the following I will try to reconstruct the basic elements that are directly and organically related to the basic hair motif in the text, since, as has been mentioned, a motif never appears on its own either in folklore or any other kind of literature. In the discussion that follows, the most significant motifs will be indicated with italics. The hair motif plays a central role right from the outset of the account of Samson’s miraculous birth. As for the argument that such an episode must be secondarily attached to the life story of a famous character,6 I 2.  So many commentators; see, e.g., Budde 1890, 132ff.; Moore 1895, 314; Burney 1970, 338–39; Boling 1975, 240–41. 3.  Louis C. Jonker’s study (1992, 49–55) gives a good overview of the historicalcritical research in this respect. 4.  In a way, this approach responds to the proposal of Louis Jonker (1992, 58), who formulates a call for studies that combine the “investigation into the historical process of textual development” with that of the “literary quality.” However, Jonker takes for granted the separations of earlier and later units mentioned above (i.e. chs. 13; 14–15; 16), which I argue against. 5.  James Crenshaw (1979, 64) claims that “the Samson narrative contains little that can definitely be called historical.” 6.  See Jonker 1992, 54 n. 17; Mobley 2006, 34, referring to Moore 1895, 314, and Burney 1970, 336–38.

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would accept that this, probably true when we are dealing with a historical person. However, in the case of someone who is rather a folklore character than a historical figure, it seems to be quite natural to begin his life story with a miraculous birth account (Amit 1999, 291). Besides, the Delilah episode with the hair-cutting scene and Samson’s great heroic finale with his hair regrown would lack real meaning without the preparatory episode of the miraculous birth. For indeed, it is the miraculous birth episode where it is declared that Samson’s hair will be of primary importance in his life (cf. Niditch 1990, 612–13).7 Within the miraculous birth account, the main characters are the barren woman (Samson’s future mother) and the divine messenger. The latter announces that the woman will conceive and bear a son, whose hair is never to be cut since he is to be a Nazirite to God, and as such he will fight against the enemies of Israel (13:5, 7). The motif of Samson’s Nazirite status – as a special dedication to the deity, the sole sign of it being his unshorn hair – is directly and intimately associated with the hair motif here and in the Delilah episode as well (cf. 16:17d). Thus, if one takes the hair motif as central and essential to the narrative, the “hair Nazirate” may also be regarded as such (cf. Niditch 1990, 612–138), even if it does not appear in chs. 14–159 (see the next paragraph below). This latter issue 7.  On the similarities and symmetry between chs. 13 and 16, see, e.g., Exum 1981, 10. 8.  “The ‘hair growing’ aspect of the Nazirite vow is central to the narrative, its plot, its hero’s characterization, and its central themes” (Niditch 1990, 612). Niditch argues against Crenshaw, who states that “Samson’s Nazirite status hardly functions in the story” (1979, 74). She refers to J. Blenkinsopp (1959, 84), whose interpretation specifies the repeated violations of the Nazirite vow as the central message conveyed by Samson’s exploits (cf. also Soggin 1981, 236–37). As Niditch notes, Exum (1983, 31–33) has argued that the Nazirite vow plays a secondary role in the final form of the narrative. 9.  In chs. 14–15, the Nazirate is not mentioned and during his exploits Samson seems to violate the usual Nazirite restrictions repeatedly. For a summary of these problematic actions, see Blenkinsopp 1959, 84; cf. n. 6 above. Several scholars have concluded that in chs. 14–16 “the question of the Nazirite’s vow was not known” (Soggin 1981, 236), and that the entire ch. 13 was later added to the narrative as an interpretative/theological prologue (see Mayer 1986, 330–31, referring to Gunkel 1913, 889–90; von Rad 1978, 1:331–32; Richter 1963, 142; see also Jonker 1992, 49, 52–55 referring to Gese 1985, 263). Yet this theory ignores the aforementioned close relation between chs. 13 and 16: the hair-cutting and hair-growing scenes would be absolutely meaningless without the introduction of the hair motif at the beginning of the saga. Besides, one can observe the symmetry between chs. 14–15 and ch. 16 (see the next paragraph in the main text); consequently, chs. 14–15 probably did not form a saga on their own, in my view. Moreover, Eliezer Diamond’s theory (1997, esp. 8–9) can account for the seeming contradictions about Samson’s Nazirite state: see the discussion about the Nazirate at the end of the present chapter.

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merits further discussion, and I will discuss the issue of the Nazirate at the end of this chapter. It is notable that that the prohibition on consuming wine (a Nazirite restriction in Num 6:3–4) is placed upon the mother (Judg 13:4, 7, 13–14) – and not the son (see also the discussion below). The hair motif appears again in the Delilah story, where it plays an absolutely essential part of the plot. Cheryl Exum (1981, 3–9) has pointed out that the structure of this episode in ch. 16 is completely parallel to that of the one in ch. 14. The latter relates the story of Samson’s Philistine wife, who sought and obtained the solution to Samson’s riddle. This seems to be the prelude to the Delilah episode. Moreover, Exum (1981, 4) even observes that not only these episodes, but also “Judges 14–15 and Judges 16 [as a whole] are constructed as thematic parallels: what happens in the first cycle (chs. 14–15) is repeated in the second (ch. 16).”10 Besides, chs. 14–16 “stand within an inclusio formed by 13:25 and 16:31…‘between Zorah and Eshtaol’ [‫( ”]בין צרעה ובין אשתאל‬1981, 4), marking the beginning and the end of Samson’s “career.” Considering all this, it seems, in my view, to be unnecessary to assume that the earlier version of the Samson narrative ended at 15:20 and did not contain the Delilah story and the account of Samson’s death (cf. also Crenshaw 1979, 41).11 The main characters of the Delilah episode are the woman whom Samson loves and Samson, the hero, himself. In the course of the story it turns out that his strength resides in his hair (16:17) – that is what Delilah seeks to learn. In the third scene of 10.  “The progression of events is similar in both cycles: Samson sees a woman, he is persuaded by a woman to reveal a secret; once directly and once indirectly as a result of his liaison with a woman, he is bound and given into the hands of the Philistines; Samson calls on Yhwh and Yhwh answers Samson’s prayer” (Exum 1981, 4; for detailed examination, see 4–9). 11.  Not to mention that a folklore version of the Samson narrative probably concluded with a “proper” ending. The end of ch. 15 does not seem to meet such a requirement; the death of the hero is a much more suitable ending. Many commentators suppose that the narrative ended in an earlier stage with 15:20, the formula “and he judged Israel (in the days of the Philistines) twenty years” (cf. n. 2 above). However, this note also appears at the conclusion of the saga in 16:31b. Cheryl Exum takes it as a possible “indication that the Deuteronomistic historian was aware of the parallelism of the accounts [chs. 14–15 and ch. 16] and accordingly provided symmetrical notices about Samson’s term of the office as judge.” Yairah Amit refers to Kaufmann 1961a, 259–60, who “saw this verse [15:20] as a signal intended to separate between the two parts of the cycle – the wars (chs. 13–15) and the mighty deeds (ch. 16) – and to state that after the great delivery in En-hak-kore Samson judged Israel for twenty years, verse 31b signifying the conclusion of his judging” (Amit 1999, 267 n. 54). Amit also observes that this approach is supported by the verbal forms used in 15:20 and 16:31b (‫ וישפט‬and ‫ שפט‬respectively; the latter, past perfect, functions as a final retrospective assessment of Samson’s judging).

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Delilah’s inquiry, she weaves his hair with the web and makes it tight with the pin while he sleeps (vv. 13–14).12 Samson has, we are told, seven locks of hair (v. 13). Then, after learning his secret, Delilah lets him fall asleep on her lap (v. 19 NRSV; literally “upon her knees”). She calls the man, a character who is evidently present at that moment, but we do not know anything else about him (according to the MT Delilah shaves Samson; see Sasson 1988, 336). This figure, “the man,” has puzzled translators and critics: he is either specified as a barber,13 as in the Septuagint (LXXA: τὸν κουρέα)14 and Vulgate (tonsorem), or as a witness of the scene who can corroborate Delilah’s act to the lords of the Philistines – this is the theory of Danielle Delmaire (2004, 161). Jack M. Sasson (1988, 338) argues that the term used in the Hebrew, ‫לאיש‬, refers to Samson himself. His hair having been cut, Samson’s strength departs from him (16:19). In addition, the deity also abandons him (v. 20). Yet Samson’s hair grows again (v. 22) and his relationship with the deity is restored by his prayer (v. 28). Consequently, he regains his strength and he performs his greatest heroic deed of all – killing an enormous number of the enemies of Israel and offering his life, so to speak, in return for divine help. We might say that Samson offers his own life to the deity (vv. 29–30). Before examining the biblical parallels of these motifs, I need to concentrate on the folklore background of the biblical account, focusing principally on the folk motifs. It is worthwhile to mention here that Hermann Gunkel (1913, 1917) derived the Samson narrative from some basic Märchen motifs reconstructed by him, and he specified the motif “strength residing in the hair” as the crucial one (1913, 55). It is also important to note that James L. Crenshaw (1979, 41–50) discussed six primary folklore motifs in his monograph on the Samson narrative.15 As for the method used in the present study, instead of citing new parallels from the folk literature and mythology of various peoples, it seems to be more productive to look for the general folklore structures which form the basis for all these parallel stories. In so doing, I follow one of the methods Susan Niditch (1990, 612–13) has applied in her study Samson as Culture Hero, Trickster, and Bandit. For the purposes of identifying the general folklore structures, I make use chiefly of Thompson’s Motif-Index 12.  The Septuagint version is longer, and more complete. The words missing from the Masoretic text are “indispensable for understanding the text” (Soggin 1981, 254); they were likely left out due to a homoioteleuton. 13.  Cf., e.g., Soggin 1981, 254. 14.  LXXB, however, translates the term literally: ἄνδρα (“a man”). 15.  That is, the motifs of the “barren wife,” “a hero helpless before a woman’s wiles,” “quest for a deity’s name,” “the death wish of a hero,” “loss of charisma,” “terror over theophany.”

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of Folk-Literature (Thompson 1955–58), mentioned above, which can be considered a foundational work of folklore studies. At this point it is essential to make clear that this approach – looking for the general folklore structures – is different from the one that searches for parallel motifs in the literature of other peoples, postulating a direct historical relationship between the stories in question on the basis of their similarity. For instance, Gunkel’s theory was built on the latter assumption (which is not surprisingly, considering the prominence of folklore studies around the time of his writing). In some ways, the present work draws inspiration from the approach adopted by Gregory Mobley in his excellent book Samson and the Liminal Hero in the Ancient Near East (Mobley 2006; see esp. 16–22). In this work, Mobley, following David Bynum and Hermann Gunkel, analyzes a basic folklore motif when scrutinizing the figure of Samson as a wild man. Mobley (2006, 25–33) also uses as a background for his investigation the systems of Claude Lévi-Strauss, Arnold van Gennep, and Victor Turner. The motif of the “liminal hero” can be understood best by taking into consideration anthropological theories as well as ethnological studies. As has been mentioned, within the Samson cycle the hair motif first appears within the miraculous birth story of ch. 13. In this biblical episode, several folklore motifs can be discerned which accompany the basic hair motif (“magic strength residing in the hair”). In the following list they are all indicated according to the notation system of the MotifIndex of Folk-Literature: D 2161.3.11 D 1925 T 510 T 540 Z 216 C 566 C 722 Z 254 (Z 230

Barrenness magically cured Fecundity magically induced Miraculous conception Miraculous birth Supernatural origin of hero: magical conception Taboos of heroes Taboo: cutting hair Destined hero Extraordinary exploits of hero)

Observing the biblical motifs of the same episode from the perspective of comparative religious studies, some scholars – notably Rüdiger Bartelmus (1979, 95–97), Yair Zakovitch (1982, 74–83), and Othniel Margalith (1986b, 397–402; see Mobley 2006, 40–41) – have claimed that this story in its earliest form represented the well-known mythological pattern of divine paternity. Yet this pattern can also be found among the folklore motif known as “Conception from divine impregnation” (T 518). The

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messenger of YHWH is even called ’ĕlōhîm (‫ )אלהים‬once in the biblical text (13:22), as if he had been a divine being in an earlier mythological version of the story. A parallel story in the Hebrew Bible is the mésalliance of the sons of ‫( אלהים‬probably male deities)16 and the daughters of men in Gen 6:1–4. In Judg 13, the mysterious person is referred to as the messenger of ‫ אלהים‬or the man of ‫ אלהים‬in the sentences describing his encounters with the woman (vv. 6, 9). In these verses (and in v. 10) the term )‫ בוא אל־(האשה‬is used – the very same term used to describe sexual intercourse in Gen 6:4 and in several other biblical verses.17 Moreover, Samson’s future mother emphasizes the divine (attractive?) appearance of the man of ‫( אלהים‬Judg 13:6). Additionally, it is also emphasized that the husband of the woman is not present at these meetings (especially in v. 9). What is the most striking is that there is no reference to the intercourse of husband and wife. This stands in contrast with the usual pattern, for instance, with 1 Sam 1:19, which is another case of a barren woman receiving a divine promise of progeny. It seems that in Judg 13 the biblical authors and/or redactors did not even endeavour to conceal the mythological background of their story.18 The only unambiguous statement about Manoah’s paternity occurs in 16:31a, at the end of the Samson cycle (16:31b is generally assigned to the Deuteronomistic framework).19 The taboo of cutting Samson’s hair is joined directly to the possible divine paternity pattern, and his unshorn hair is the sign of his relationship to the deity – he is a Nazirite to ‫( אלהים‬13:5). At the mythological level of the story, the function of the hair motif may have been to reinforce the concept of a strong relationship rooted in paternity between the deity and the hero. In the present context, the connection between YHWH and Samson is based on his miraculous conception, which is solely due to the deity and which is announced via the messenger of YHWH (13:3–5; cf. also vv. 13, 15–21). Samson’s hair is the symbol of that kind of connection with God. The folklore motif of the destined hero is, of course, also wellknown, meaning that the announcement of his future exploits against the enemies of the community, Israel, might not have been exclusively the product of the redactors of the text (13:4). It is worthwhile to draw attention to the following: the divine paternity motif indicates that in an earlier mythological version of the story the deity may have appeared. 16.  “Male deities, not – generically – ‘children of the gods’” (Parker 1999, 796a). 17.  BDB, 98a: “1. d. of entering a woman’s tent or apartment (with implication coire cum femina).” Cf. Gen 6:4; 16:2; 30:3; 38:8, 9; 39:14; Deut 22:13; Judg 15:1; 16:1; 2 Sam 12:24; 16:21; 20:3; Ezek 23:44 (×3); Prov 6:29. 18.  “That an account of divine paternity, obscured but not obliterated by later redactors, lies behind the present story remains a strong possibility” (Mobley 2006, 41). 19.  See, e.g., Exum 1981, 27 n. 15.

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As such, it need not be the case, as some have argued, that the figure of the deity was a later insertion into the story, arising from an attempt to introduce religious ideas into the cycle.20 The next episode where the hair motif occurs is the Delilah story. This part of the Samson cycle seems to include several folklore motifs. The following ones can be associated with the episode: D 1831 (E 714.12 (F 531.1.6.13 K 975 T 299.1 D 1741.1 K 1021.1 K 834.1 K 713.1.8 (K 1514.17 K 713.1.7 (G 530 (G 530.1.1

Magic strength resides in hair. Soul in hair.) Giant’s strength in hair.) Secret of strength treacherously discovered. Sleeping with head laid in wife’s lap as a sign of tenderness. Magic power lost in sleep. Dupe hair’s tied: attacked. Dupe tricked into sleep, killed. Women bind warrior’s hair to wall of hostel while he sleeps. Adulteress together with lover while husband sleeps.) Faithless wife ties sleeping husband’s hair to bed allowing lover to kill him. Ogre’s relative aids hero.) Giant overcome and slain when his wife binds his hair to posts.)

It is apparent from the list of motifs that the binding or tying of the hair to something as preparation for an attack/murder is a widespread type of folk motif. It therefore seems quite reasonable to suppose that this kind of folk motif accounts for the enigmatic scene in which Delilah weaves Samson’s hair with a web and makes it tight with a pin. The central scene in the episode in which Delilah lets Samson fall asleep on her lap is certainly not unattested either – in fact, it seems to have been an extremely popular, widespread motif in folk literature. This motif is used in at least three different variants. One form simply expresses maternal tenderness21 20.  For the latter approach, see Blenkinsopp 1959, 83: “these stories in their original form were by no means religious in character… The religious sense of the episodes of the Samson saga is discoverable not in the episodes themselves but in the context in which they were placed by the inspired editor.” As Mobley (2006, 16) notes, however: “Why should the earliest Samson story be devoid of religion? The Standard Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, which goes back to the second millennium, contains the heroic and the cultic: it includes temples, offerings, incubation rituals, and, everywhere, the gods.” 21.  Cf. the Pieta type of representation.

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or intimacy between lovers. Another variant sees the motif combined with other folk elements, such as the hair-tying motif. In such cases, an attempt is typically made on someone’s life – be that a monster (a positive evaluation of the attempt) or a hero, a true lover or a husband (a negative evaluation). It is evident in the present context of the biblical narrative that the attempt is considered as a negative action, and that the attacked hero, Samson, is the positive character. Even in an earlier folklore (and/or mythological) version of the story, however, the episode of the miraculous birth of the hero, including the hair motif, could have been an inevitable prelude to the revealing of the secret of Samson’s hair and to the haircutting scene. Thus, even in that earlier form of the cycle the attempt was probably presented as an attack on a hero (a positive character related to the deity), and not as a positive exploit against a wild man/monster. The list of the folk motifs may also shed some light on the identity of the mysterious man present at the hair-cutting scene, a figure who, as already noted, has long puzzled commentators. In folk literature, a man often takes part in the murder or attempted murder. Typically, he is either a rival lover who wants to kill the hero, or a hero himself who wants to slay the monster. On the basis of the above argument, it seems much more plausible to presume that in the folklore version of the story he was a rival lover who endeavoured to murder the hero. In the extant form of the biblical text one can quite clearly perceive traces pointing to a possible earlier version or layer. We observe the barest traces of a character, one whose identity or function are not revealed. It is as if the figure’s particulars have been deleted from the saga, though one may assume that the contemporary reader would have picked up on the remaining hint and understood the true identity of this male figure (namely, that he was probably a rival lover). In the scene where Delilah weaves the hair of Samson with the web and makes it tight with a pin, the motif of weaving also seems to be significant (weaving and loom – ‫ – ארג‬occur in 16:13–14). Weaving and spinning are especially associated with women (Niditch 1990, 615–16), and they are typical (albeit not exclusively22) female occupations in the Hebrew Bible (cf. Prov 31:19; 2 Sam 3:29, see below; 2 Kgs 23:7). Othniel Margalith (1987, 63–64) has connected the motif of weaving to the Omphale episode of the exploits of Heracles. However, 2 Kgs 23:7 refers to a custom of women weaving for Asherah23 in the Jerusalem temple. While weaving is 22.  Cf. Exod 28:32; 39:22, 27; Isa 19:9; 38:12, where masculine forms occur referring to professional weavers. 23.  The term may refer to the sacred pole (Wyatt 1999, 102b), but even then it is the cult symbol of the goddess.

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cross-culturally related to the cults and myths of various female deities,24 this reference to Asherah/Ishtar25 is quite suggestive, for the name Delilah appears in Akkadian as an element of certain theophoric names meaning “dedicated to the (deity) X,” especially to Ishtar.26 The women weaving for Asherah(/Ishtar) seem to be cultic personnel and they are probably also associated with temple prostitution in 2 Kgs 23:7.27 The motif of weaving/ spinning in the Delilah story may also recall the idea of ensnaring, especially by speech (cf. Niditch 1990, 616, and n. 14). Indeed, weaving/ spinning as entrapment is a common trope in folktales.28 Delilah certainly can be characterized as a particularly shrewd speaker who can achieve her aims by means of her persuasive abilities. A parallel example can be seen in Samson’s Philistine wife in Judg 14 (see above about the latter story being a parallel and a prelude of the Delilah episode). The valiant hero, Samson, seems vulnerable to the ensnarement of feminine wiles; by such means, Samson is, so to speak, tamed and domesticated (Mobley 2006, 47). This picture may recall the wider motif of “warriors becoming women.” One form of this motif has the male warrior performing “woman’s work,” sometimes specifically weaving/spinning (cf. 2 Sam 3:29; Mobley 2006, 9). In this respect feminization can be a symbol of the warrior’s defeat (Niditch 1990, 616–17). Interestingly, weaving associated with killing, fighting, and warriors also appears with reference to Goliath (“whose spear was like a weaver’s beam,” 1 Sam 17:7; 2 Sam 21:19) – a character who, it has not gone unnoticed, shares many common features with, and displays a similar character to, Samson (Mobley 2006, 64–65; see also below). This motif in the depiction of Goliath, however, does not express feminization in the sense of defeat. 24.  Cf. the Moirai, the Parcae, the Norns, Athene etc. See Neumann 1991, 226–33. Cf. also the depictions of the spinning Mary (annunciation to the spinning virgin), and the spinning Eve (Badalanova 2004, 214–15, 219, 223, 225, 228–30, 232–38; Neumann 1991, plates 96, 97). 25.  For the latter interpretation, see Albertz 1992, 302 n. 51. On the identification of the figure of Asherah with that of Ishtar, see Albertz 1992, 301: “über die männlichweibliche Götterzweiheit Jahwe und Aschera der älteren persönlichen Frömmigkeit lagerte sich unter assyrischem Einfluß im 7.Jh. die neue von Adad und Ischtar.” Note also 1992, 329: “diese [neben Jahwe eine weibliche Begleiterin] war in älterer Zeit Aschera gewesen, die unter assyrischen Einfluß durch eine Ischtargestalt (‘Himmelskönigin’) ersetzt wurde.” 26.  See Soggin 1981, 253, referring to Burney 1970, 407. 27.  On the dispute of the problem of the term ‫שדק‬/‫קדשה‬, see, e.g., Albertz 1992, 134, esp. n. 117. He refers to the places where ‫קדשה‬/‫ קדשות‬occurs in parallel with ‫זנה‬/ ‫“( זנות‬street prostitute/s”): Gen 38:15, 21–22; Hos 4:13–14. Albertz refutes, however, the association of temple prostitution with a “hieros gamos rite.” 28.  See, e.g., Chapters 2 and 5 of von Franz 1977.

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Goliath uses his spear, which is said to be “like the weaver’s beam,” as a weapon – just like Delilah uses weaver’s tool(s) against the hero, Samson. One may say that Delilah, the woman, takes the role of a warrior as she seeks to defeat her enemy (cf. Yael in Judg 4–5; see below). Thus, the normal roles of man and woman in a traditional, patriarchal, society seem to be reversed in this scene. Significantly, this reversed picture too appears to be traditional (cf. the folklore motifs above). It is worthwhile to mention with regard to the Delilah episode that the theme of man–woman relationship appears to be essential to the structure of the entire book of Judges (Bal 1988). The hair motif, too, fits in well with this aspect of the book: Susan Niditch (1990, 616–17) has drawn attention to the sexual connotations related to the notion of power that are conveyed by the hair/hair-cutting motif. The hair motif (“magic hair residing in the hair”) reappears in the last episode of the Samson cycle (Judg 16:22). The central elements of this episode can easily be associated with the folklore motifs of the “Return of the hero” (Z 293), and the “Death of hero” (Z 292). A detailed discussion of this episode, focusing on the hair motif, the prayer, and Samson’s offering his life, will be offered at the end of this chapter. Considering the whole narrative, the hair motif is primarily associated with the figure of Samson, and intimately related to his remarkable, super­ human strength. The following folklore motifs are to be mentioned in this respect: (F 521.1 F 531.1.6.13 (F 531.1.6.3.1 (F 610.1 Z 261 (L 112.1 A 523 A 521 F 610 F 610.3 (F 612 F 614.10 (F 628.25 (F 615.1 (F 615.3.1

Man covered with hair like animal.) Giant’s strength in hair. Giant with particularly long hair.) Wild man of superhuman strength.) Giant heroes. Monster as hero.) Giant as culture hero. Culture hero as dupe or trickster. Remarkably strong man (Strong John). Warrior of supernatural strength (Berserk). Strong hero sent from home.) Strong hero fights whole army alone. Strong man kills men with own hands.) Strong man sent to devils’ mill: drives devils to master’s house.) Strong man attacked with millstone puts it on as collar.)

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Gregory Mobley (2006, 21) connects the hair motif to the wild man tradition that is well-known in folklore. As Mobley observes (2006, 22), it is a distinctive feature of the wild man that he is hairy (yet Samson has seven locks; about the “heroic hairstyle,” see below). However, Mobley (2006, 113) also observes that a giant or wild man who threatens an urban culture appears as a negative character in folktales, as a monster. Such a figure is seen as the enemy of and is defeated by the hero. Therefore, in Mobley’s view, in the depiction of Samson as the hero of God – a positive character – who threatens the (Philistine) urban culture, we can observe a reversal of the usual folktale pattern. Here, the monster, the wild man, is the hero. Still, the latter motif is certainly not unattested in folk literature; on the contrary, as the motifs listed above indicate, a giant and even a monster can be a hero. Were one to attempt to place the biblical Samson within the system of folklore motifs, he would probably be best specified as a “Remarkably strong man,” a “Strong John” character (F 610). This is a folktale figure known world-wide, appearing in, for instance, the stories by the Grimm brothers,29 and even in Hungarian fairy tales,30 and whose basic feature is his enormous strength.31 It is to be noted that, though “Strong John” resembles such figures as the “Wild man of superhuman strength” and the “Warrior of supernatural strength (Berserk),” he is not identical with either – he is an independent character. For instance, “Strong John” is a lonely32 hero in contrast to many warriors. Furthermore, while he is undeniably wild, “Strong John” nevertheless has a human background, human origins. The wild man, by contrast, is rooted exclusively in nature.

29.  Cf. 90. Der junge Riese (see n. 33 below); 166. Der starke Hans (Grimm 1985, 391–98, 622–28). 30.  Cf. Erős János (“Strong John”), Erős Pali (“Strong Paul”), Vas (“Iron”) Laci (Benedek 2002, 29–34, 403–10; 2001, 323–31). 31.  For a comparison of Samson and Strong John, see Niditch 2008, 155, 159. 32.  However, he sometimes has one or two (perhaps three) companions for a while (cf. Der starke Hans, Erős Pali; see nn. 29, 30 above). The companions can also be dangerous for him and turn against him, even stealing his woman – cf. the latter motif in Der starke Hans with Judg 14:20 (NRSV): “Samson’s wife was given to his companion, who had been his best man” (see n. 34 below; cf. also Judg 15:6). See also n. 43 below: cf. the (occasional) companions of Heracles, the lonely hero (Iphicles, Iolaos, and with regard woman robbing Nessos, the Centaur; see Gantz 1996, 376, 384, 431–34). The companion(s) of “Strong John” usually resemble(s) him, but sometimes they are even wilder than he is – they represent the truly wild man (cf. Der starke Hans, Erős Pali, and the Centaur figure, Nessos, in the Heracles myths).

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A further difference is that the wildness of “Strong John” is not uncontrollable.33 In the light of all this, as Mobley rightly observes, “Samson belongs to a wider heroic tradition of wild men and warriors” (2006, 109). Specifically, however, like “Strong John,” he is a lonely34 hero who, despite his wildness, derives from a human family (see below the discussion about Samson’s controlled wildness). Importantly, the “Strong John” figure has trickster characteristics as well. Susan Niditch (1990) has pointed out these aspects of Samson’s character, emphasizing at the same time that he is also a kind of culture hero. As she puts it, “the overriding theme of [the saga] is the marginal’s confrontation with oppressive authority, more specifically Israel’s dealings with its Philistine enemies” (1990, 624). The “remarkably strong man” (“Strong John”) often confronts and assiduously provokes characters representing the negative/oppressive side of culture and power (cf. Niditch 1990, 609–10). Such negative figures include the wicked/mean smith, the

33.  Niditch, building on the work of Crenshaw, puts great stress on the “cultural” features of Samson as well: “Samson creates riddles and displays wit… He comes from a cultural context, [and has] a family of mother and father” (1990, 613). Mobley (2006, 19), however, claims that the wild man motif is the really dominant aspect of the Samson saga. I would argue that the human background also signifies a lot in Samson’s character: his wildness is not unrestrained (see the discussion below); he is similar to, but not identical with the wild man figure (e.g. he subdues a wild beast, a lion). Similarly, Der junge Riese in the Grimm tale (see n. 29 above) is a man born into a human family. He is actually snatched away from his family as a child by a giant. While he is said to be very big and an extremely strong man like the giants, he is definitely not a “born giant,” not a monster. (In fact, on the contrary, he is a very small human child, a kind of “Tom Thumb” character, when taken away by the giant.) He does not derive from the wild, and all his adventures take place in the human sphere. His decisive feature in these exploits is his enormous strength. He is basically a positive character. From all this it follows that he can be categorized as a “Remarkably strong man (Strong John)” and not as a “Wild man of superhuman strength.” This example shows clearly that the folklore categories do not constitute a rigid system. While these categories are often close to and combined with one another, still the individual motifs can be discerned. As for giant size, Der starke Hans himself (see n. 29 above) is of enormous stature in comparison with everyday people; this is not surprising, since he is a remarkably strong man. In the cases of both Der junge Riese and Der starke Hans, connection with wild nature is of great importance, but they never cease to be human, and they keep a connection with people and culture. The peripatetic and restless nature of the “Strong John” figures (cf. Mobley’s argumentation about Samson in this respect – 2006, 66–71, 83–84) manifests itself very clearly in the ending of Der junge Riese tale: the extremely big and strong hero just walks off. 34.  Nevertheless, see n. 32 about Samson’s companion (cf. Judg 14:20; 15:6).

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steward (of an estate), and the village mayor.35 These negative characters, as the masters of “Strong John,” attempt to eliminate him, often by giving him “missions impossible.” Typically, “Strong John” gets the better of his oppressor in a tricky (humorous) way and/or by means of his enormous strength (cf. the motifs F 615.1 and F 615.3.1).36 This tricky attitude of the hero against his enemies frequently manifests itself throughout the Samson cycle: he uses common sense/brutal tricks while pretending to be a simpleton and thus escapes mortal danger and defeats his enemies by his strength (cf., e.g., Judg 14:12–14, 19; 15:4–5, 12–15; 16:3, 6–9 etc.; see the analysis of Niditch 1990, 617–21). The enemies of Samson and those of “Strong John” can also be seen as tricksters (cf. the tricky ways they want to eliminate “Strong John”/ Samson), but in many cases they have nothing to do with nature – they are typically “cultured” tricksters (cf. the smith, the steward, and the village mayor in the Strong John tales).37 Samson’s enemies, the Philistines, undeniably represent a kind of high culture as well as an oppressive power dominating the Israelites (Niditch 1990, 613–15). At the same time that he stands in opposition the negative aspect of culture and power, the “Strong John” figure also battles with and subdues wild creatures (beasts,38 monsters;39 cf. also the aforementioned “missions impossible”). We see this motif dramatically played out in Samson’s dismemberment of the lion in Judg 14:5–6. Although the pattern often includes the motif that “Strong John’s” own people are afraid of him, and even try to get rid of him because of his excessive strength and appetite40 (cf. Judg 15:9–13), he is basically a 35.  The mean smith and the wicked steward of an estate are the masters and enemies of Der junge Riese (cf. n. 29 above). Similarly, the Hungarian Erős János (“Strong John,” cf. n. 30 above) confronts and constantly provokes the mean village mayor. 36.  Both of these motifs (F 615.1 – Strong man sent to devil’s mill; F 615.3.1 – Strong man attacked with millstone puts it on as collar) occur in Der junge Riese (cf. n. 29 above). 37.  As Mobley (2006, 19) notes, David Bynum (1990, 63) underlines that the Philistines are the tricksters in the riddle contest – and they win it. In my opinion, both Samson and the Philistines are tricksters but each of a completely different kind: Samson is the crude, “natural” type of trickster, using common sense, brutal tricks and strength, the Philistines are the “cultured” tricksters, applying sophisticated, artful and treacherous methods. Note that “Strong John” sometimes suffers from the trick of his own companion(s) who is/are real wild man/men (see n. 32 above: cf. Der starke Hans, Erős Pali, and Nessos, the Centaur in the Heracles myths; cf. nn. 29, 30, 43). 38.  Cf. Erős János (“Strong John” see n. 30 above) subdues a bear. 39.  Cf. Der starke Hans, Erős Pali, Vas Laci (see nn. 29, 30 above). 40.  Cf. Der junge Riese (see n. 29 above). Der starke Hans (cf. n. 29) shatters the house of his father by accident (but he abundantly compensates his father for the damage).

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positive character, a hero, in the folk stories. His positive characterization manifests itself above all in his opposition to and continuous provocations of the negative representatives of culture and power. Furthermore, his heroic deeds powerfully highlight his positive character; “Strong John” not only subdues wild beasts and monsters, but sometimes he even fights a whole army single-handedly.41 Mobley (2006) specifies Samson as a liminal hero. Significantly, the “Strong John” figure can also be described in this manner. Moreover, he shares many of the special heroic features evident in Samson: both are lonely heroes; while both derive from a human family, each is intimately connected to nature as well; besides battling with wild (animal) opponents, the enemies of both also often represent the negative/oppressive aspect of culture and power. One may conclude that nearly all the basic characteristics of Samson can be discovered in the figure of “Strong John.” Consequently, the Samson tale does not represent the twisting or inversion of a usual folklore pattern; rather, it appears to conform neatly to a pattern that was first mentioned as an analogue to the Samson tale in the Judges commentary by Susan Niditch (see n. 31 above). Here it is worthwhile to mention the similar but slightly different folklore character that Saul represents in the so-called Saul cycle: he stands “head and shoulders above” all the people (cf. 1 Sam 9:2; 10:23), this prominent stature being the most characteristic feature of Saul. On the other hand, it is a stressed point in the Saul cycle that Saul is a “reluctant (modest) hero” (at least at the beginning of his career), a feature which is not at all typical of Samson. Furthermore, Saul is not a typically lonely hero; he, being the king, is the commander of the Israelite army. Nevertheless, besides the similarity in their physical features, the figures of Samson, and Saul, and their stories respectively share many other common characteristics; they strongly resemble each other in many respects.42 The “Strong John” character is a very popular type of hero in various cultures. It is not difficult to discern the features typical of “Strong John” in the figure of Heracles. In the Heracles story, for example, we observe the hero’s enormous strength. We also see the “missions impossible” set by his “master,” King Eurystheus, who in fact wants to eliminate him. We note also the use of humorous situations and trickster features.43 Such 41.  Cf. Erős János (“Strong John,” see n. 30 above). 42.  See 3.3.1.1 and 3.3.1.2 below. 43.  As for Heracles as a trickster and culture hero, Mobley (2006, 18 n. 90) refers to Kirk (1974, 197, 202, 207). A difference between the presentation of Heracles and Samson is that in the figure of Heracles, the fight against various monsters, wild creatures, is more remarkable than the opposition against negative power/culture (i.e. above all Eurystheus).

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parallel features seem to support the theory that the Samson and the Heracles stories resemble each other on the basis of general folklore (and mythological) patterns. It does not seem likely that the figure of Samson was directly derived from that of Heracles (Mobley 2006, 7–12), as Othniel Margalith argues (1985, 1986a, 1986b, 1987). 2.3. The Hair Motif and Connected Ideas of the Samson Saga in the Light of Biblical and Other Parallels, and Their Possible Functions Within Biblical Systems In the following, I will explore what kind of biblical parallels can be made with the Samson hair motif and its related ideas, and within what sort of biblical systems such motifs can plausibly be interpreted. I will also touch upon a few Mesopotamian and Greek parallels. 2.3.1. Long Haired Heroes: The Song of Deborah and Other Parallels In his 2006 book, Gregory Mobley concentrates on the heroic, warrior character of Samson. Within this context, he explains the Samson hair motif by means of the wild man theme. Mobley (2006, 10) mentions “Esau, ‘the hairy man’ (Gen 27:11), Elijah, ‘the lord of hair’ (2 Kgs 1:8), and Absalom (2 Sam 14:26),” underlining that they are biblical characters “whose hair is a prominent feature and is suggestive of wildness or heroism.” Such figures can definitively be compared to the biblical Samson. However, there is another text – a well-known heroic text – in the Hebrew Bible that must be discussed in the present study, since, as such scholars as Mieke Bal (1988, 14, 15, 27, 55, 65) and Jack M. Sasson (1988, 334) have pointed out, it has many motifs in common with the Samson narrative. The text in question is the Song of Deborah (Judg 5) and the preceding prosaic version of the same topic (Judg 4). First of all, this ancient heroic song includes a potential reference to the hair of warriors: “When locks are long in Israel” (‫בפרע פרעות בישראל‬, Judg 5:2; although this interpretation of the root ‫ פרע‬here is questionable, many scholars accept it44). Although the root ‫ פרע‬does not appear in the On the other hand, Samson seems to be specialized in the fight against oppressive power/ culture, and he kills only one wild beast, the lion. These shades of characterization appear in the various “Strong John” figures as well. Among the above-mentioned folk tale figures the nearest parallels to Samson are Der junge Riese and especially Erős János (“Strong John”; see nn. 29, 30 above). 44.  Cf. the translation of the NRSV: “when locks are long in Israel”; cf. also Kronholm (1989, 759), referring to Gray (1967, 276) and KBL³ 913a. See on the usage of the root in general, Janzen 1989 and Goerwitz 1996.

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Samson narrative, in Num 6:5 we read that Nazirites are to let their hair grow long; Samson is described as a Nazirite to God in Judg 13:5, 7; 16:17, the only sign of his Nazirite state being his unshorn hair. Although there are differences between the presentation of Nazirate in Num 6 and Judg 13–16, these two texts clearly share the view that long, unshorn hair is a distinctive feature of the Nazirites. (This problem, and especially Samson’s Nazirite status, will be discussed in more detail below.) Some scholars have suggested that the Nazirate may have its origins in the heroic sphere (the holy war).45 Beside the Nazirite state of Samson, the chosen hero of YHWH (cf. also the dedication of Samuel in 1 Sam 1:1146), the blessings on Joseph seem to point towards associations with heroism (see Gen 49:22–26; nevertherless Deut 33:13–17). Joseph is denoted as a nāzîr (“one set apart,” “consecrated”) among his brothers (Gen 49:26; Deut 33:16), and he is depicted in these passages within a victorious heroic context (cf. Gen 49:23–24; Deut 33:17). It is worth noting that Joseph’s head is specifically mentioned – the blessing is on his “consecrated head,” so to speak (Gen 49:26; Deut 33:16). The picture of the long-haired heroes is also recalled by a reference to the “the long-haired enemy” (NRSV; cf. also KBL³ 913b) in Deut 32:42. Here, even if the word ‫ פרע‬is translated as “leader” as some have maintained,47 the “head” (‫ )ראש‬of the enemy is certainly a central idea in the verse. Returning to the Song of Deborah, the possible reference to the long locks of the Israelite heroes (Judg 5:2) may support the theory, suggested by the Samson narrative, that long hair may have been a characteristic and emphasized feature of Israelite warriors of the premonarchic era depicted in the book of Judges, or at least of the time when the song was composed.48 It is a remarkable parallel that “Homeric heroes…often have ξανθή κόμη (‘fair hair’), the Achaeans are denoted as κάρη κομόωντες (‘long-haired’),” and especially “Achilles came to be represented as longhaired at every stage of his life” (Morgan 1997, 212). As for the Israelite/ 45.  See Mayer 1986, 331. 46.  The sign of his dedication will be that “no razor shall touch his head.” Even a reference to his Nazirite state is reconstructed on the basis of LXXB, see NRSV. On the other hand, P. Kyle McCarter (1980, 61) claims with regard to this verse that “according to Israelite tradition such an individual [a Nazirite] was endowed with certain charismatic gifts as a warrior.” The whole chapter is interpreted by McCarter and others as a miraculous birth account which originally referred to Saul, the great warrior king, and later was borrowed and included in the story of Samuel. See McCarter 1980, 63–66. 47.  Cf. Kronholm 1989, 760. 48.  A possible date of the composition may be approximately the ninth century BCE on the basis of linguistic arguments. See Soggin 1981, 80–81.

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Jewish grooming customs, it is important to mention here that “long hair seems to have fallen into increasing disfavor from the hellenistic period onward (e.g. Dan. 4:33, 1 Cor. 11:14)” (Goerwitz 2003, 375), precisely due to Greek influence, while “the TaNaKh…not only allows long hair on men, but actually…seems to revere it” (2003, 376). 2.3.2. Delilah and Samson – Yael and Sisera The most significant parallel motifs within the Song of Deborah and the Samson cycle are to be observed upon comparison of the Yael–Sisera and the Delilah episodes. The Yael–Sisera incident is preserved in two different versions. Nevertheless, the (likely later) prosaic variant in Judg 4 does not contradict the poetic formulation of Judg 5, in my view. The most important parallel with the Delilah episode is the actual description of Sisera’s murder. In ch. 4, Sisera lies on the ground; moreover, he sleeps like Samson when he is slain (v. 21; cf. 16:19). In ch. 5 it is mentioned that Sisera sinks, falls, and lies between the feet of Yael (v. 27). Samson, on the other hand, lies and sleeps on the knees of Delilah, or, as the Septuagint has it, “between her knees” (16:19). The probable sexual and maternal aspects of these parallel phrases have been discussed by Mieke Bal (1988, 225–28, 27) and Jack M. Sasson (1988, 334). Moreover, both scenes seem to represent the same folklore motif mentioned above, the so-called sleeping with head laid in wife’s lap motif, which can be interpreted either in a sexual or in a maternal context. The head motif is also central in both scenes – although it is the hair of Samson that is made tight and cut, the phrases referring to these acts always contain the term ‫ראש‬, “head” (16:13, 17, 19; cf. also 13:5), while Yael crushes the head of Sisera (5:26) by piercing his temple (4:21, 22; 5:26). Moreover, the same two words express how Delilah “makes” Samson’s hair “tight with the pin,” and how Yael “drives the peg” into Sisera’s temple: ‫( ותתקע ביתד‬16:14) and ‫( ותתקע את־היתד‬4:21). Further still, the plaits on Samson’s head are called ‫( מחלפות‬16:13, 19) – a reference to the strands of hair “passing through” one another – while Yael ‫חלפה‬, “passes through,” that is, pierces, Sisera’s temple (5:26). It is also worth noting that a character is mentioned together with Yael in the Song of Deborah, a certain Shamgar ben Anat (5:6), whose exploit, touched upon in Judg 3:31, quite evidently recall the adventures of Samson, as has often been claimed.49 All these parallel motifs surrounding the theme of head and hair fit into a heroic context – or, we might say, into the world of the longhaired heroes. Nevertheless, the strikingly similar motifs appear in rather

49.  E.g. Soggin 1981, 58.

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different forms, within different plots (cf. also, e.g., the Judith–Holofernes story).50 One may well account for this phenomenon by assuming a folklore background for this set of motifs. However, the identical wording in the above-mentioned passages indicates that it cannot be excluded that these texts (especially the Song of Deborah) had a certain direct influence on each other and/or that their final formulation was due to some editorial intervention. 2.3.3. Divine Manifestation and Well-Arranged Hair: The Laḫmu, “Heroic Hairstyle” Samson’s hair functions as something more than a “mere” sign of his relationship to God. Upon having his hair cut, Samson’s heroic strength immediately leaves him (‫ויסר כחו מעליו‬, Judg 16:19), and, at the same time, YHWH also leaves him (‫יהוה סר מעליו‬, v. 20). The two phenomena are expressed using precisely the same terms in the Hebrew, and, according to the context, the second instance seems to explain and interpret the first. The sense is that Samson’s strength is equated with YHWH, that is, YHWH is Samson’s strength. It appears that not only does his strength reside in his hair, but also the deity manifests himself in the hair of Samson. It seems evident that his heroic strength is related to the divine presence – another form of this presence is the spirit (‫ )רוח‬of the deity, a motif also applied in the Samson cycle.51 One may associate the motif of “divine manifestation” in Samson’s hair with those biblical texts which treat the topic of consecration of war, and which take the holy state of the warriors for granted.52 Even the abovementioned term ‫ בפרע פרעות בישראל‬in the Song of Deborah (Judg 5:2) is interpreted on the one hand as a reference to the long locks of the Israelite warriors within the context of the consecration of war, and on the other as 50.  “This character of the apocryphal biblical book [of Judith] is frequently compared with Delilah and Yael” (Bal 1988, 55). Some parallel motifs with the Delilah and Yael episodes: Holofernes lies (on his bed) and is sleeping when he is slain by Judith (Judith 13:2); the sexual aspect of the episode is absolutely apparent (12:11–14); the head motif is central: Judith beheads Holofernes (13:8). Even the motif of peg/pin and passing through/ piercing (the head) seems to be present in the narrative since it is emphasized that the bedpost is by the head of Holofernes in the beheading scene (13:6). Besides, the whole story is placed into a heroic context, and, just as in the cases of Delilah and Yael, a woman defeats a powerful hero/warrior. 51.  Cf. 13:25; 14:6, 19 and 15:14. 52.  Consecrating war: Jer 6:4; Joel 4:9; Mic 3:5. Consecrating warriors: Jer 22:7; 51:27–28; 1 Sam 21:6; Josh 3:5. Compulsory holiness of the military camp: Deut 23:10–15. About the consecration of war and warriors, see von Rad 1991, 41–51.

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self-dedication on the basis of an Arabic parallel (Kronholm 1989, 759). These two interpretations (not to mention a third one53) do not seem to contradict each other – they harmonize well since both accentuate the holy, consecrated state of the warriors when waging war. According to Mobley (2006, 65), Samson is in a permanent liminal state typical of a warrior in battle, a state which can imply agitation, anger, frenzy, and the like (2006, 66–71; cf. Judg 13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14). Yet this does not mean completely uncontrollable behaviour. Although he has many features in common with a wild man, Samson is not a mere Naturmensch. He not only has a human family, and invents riddles,54 but, driven by the divine spirit to fight, he fulfils a divine mission against the Philistines (13:5). Importantly, Samson always fights against the Philistines, his divinely assigned enemies (as well as the lion, a hostile beast, in 14.5–6), but he never attacks his own people. This stands in marked contrast with the biblical presentation of Abimelech or Saul (cf., e.g., Judg 9; 1 Sam 18:11; 19:10; and yet, in general, the biblical Saul strongly resembles the figure of Samson).55 It is striking that a divine spirit drives all of these characters, or is portrayed as being involved in the negative actions of Abimelech and Saul, but the spirit appears as a negative force, a ‫רוח רעה‬, in these cases (Judg 9:23; 1 Sam 16:14–16; 18:10; 19:9). In this light, Samson’s behaviour does not seem so very uncontrolled – there is method in his madness (even his affairs with women are presented as part of the divine plan in Judg 14:4).56 In this respect, it may be significant that Samson’s hair, the manifestation of the divine presence, seems to be well arranged – his locks are woven together to form seven plaits (‫שבע מחלפות‬, Judg 16:13, 19). As has been mentioned, Samson has been identified with the Mesopotamian “hairy man” figure,57 the Laḫmu, by Robert Wenning and Erich Zenger (1982).58 Although this Laḫmu figure definitely has some 53.  The third possible meaning of the phrase concerns military leadership (Kronholm 1989, 759). 54.  James Crenshaw has drawn attention to this aspect of Samson’s character that complements his wild features (1979, 18, 99–120). 55.  See, e.g., Brooks 1996. 56.  This description of Samson’s character contradicts von Rad’s interpretation of Samson’s behaviour as basically uncontrolled (1987, 1:346). However, it harmonizes with Niditch’s theory (1990), which accentuates the trickster and culture hero features of Samson. 57.  On the derivation of Laḫmu from “hairy,” see Mayer-Opificius 1982. For the possible association with “muddy,” see Heider 1999, 502. 58.  See Lambert 1985. According to an interesting, albeit a not very convincing, proposal by Cathcart (1977), the divine name Laḫmu occurs precisely in the Song of Deborah,

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wild man charasteritics, especially his (half) nakedness and his sometimes barehanded contest with beasts, he has a similarly well-groomed hairstyle to Samson’s. In ancient Near Eastern iconography the Laḫmu figure typically appears with his hair parted in the middle, usually with four or six wellarranged, large curls (two or three on each side). This constitutes the Laḫmu’s distinctive hairstyle.59 Gregory Mobley (2006, 22, 24) denotes this as a kind of “heroic hairstyle” that completely differs from the dishevelled hair typical of wild men. A noticeable difference between the hairstyle of the Laḫmu and that of Samson is that the latter has seven plaits; this phenomenon will be discussed below. Nevertheless, the Laḫmu is associated with certain deities (Enki/Ea, Marduk), just as Samson is related to YHWH. Moreover, the Laḫmu was regarded as a minor deity himself, even having apotropaic, protective functions, from the third to the first millennium BCE in the Near East. In my view, one may conclude that Samson and the Laḫmu represent at least a similar type of character, with (1) a similar, well-arranged “heroic hairstyle,” (2) a connection with a great deity, and (3) a holy status. The direct derivation of Samson’s character from the Laḫmu figure seems to me to be somewhat unfounded. In fact, I would say that any effort to find a direct historical connection, which cannot be proved, is actually unnecessary, since the resemblance between the figures is structural and functional.60 2.3.4. The Slaughter of Ḫumbaba: Well-Arranged vs. Dishevelled Hair: Hair, Head, Melam(mu) and Superhuman Power Another interesting Mesopotamian parallel may shed some more light on the function of the hair motif in the Samson narrative. It is to be stated from the outset, however, that the depictions in question, namely the slaughter of the monster Ḫumbaba appearing on clay plaques and seals of the second and first millennia,61 probably did not have any direct contact with the Samson story either.62 in Judg 5:8. For another interpretation, cf. the NRSV’s translation of Judg 5:8, “then war was in the gates,” where “war” is derived from the root ‫ לחם‬meaning “fight.” E. Honigmann (1938) even proposed that the place name Bethlehem could be traced back to Laḫmu. 59.  See the examples provided in Black and Green 1992, 114, ill. 91; 185, ill. 153. 60.  On the Sumerian/Akkadian Laḫmu, and lḥm in the Hebrew Bible, see Heider 1999, 502. 61.  See Black and Green 1992, 106. 62.  It has been suggested (Jean 1931, 124 n. 8) that the name of Ḫumbaba appears in that of Hobab in the biblical Yael–Sisera story (Judg 4:11; cf. Num 10:29); this proposal, however, cannot be adequately supported (Toorn 1999b, 432).

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On an Old Babylonian baked clay moulded plaque (Black and Green 1992, 90, ill. 69), the victorious heroes – probably Gilgameš and Enkidu, characters who have already been compared to Samson by Mobley (2006) – are depicted with well-arranged, fastened hair. By contrast, the long curls of the defeated monster, presumably Ḫumbaba, are being dishevelled and gripped by Enkidu, who is pinning him down. One may notice some similarity between the depiction of these triumphant heroes and that of Samson: Samson has not only long, but also well-groomed hair during the time that he is a victorious hero. The deity “manifests” himself in the neatly plaited hair of Samson, as if the divine favour and presence helping the successful warrior to victory is represented by his well-arranged hairstyle. It has been remarked that the long locks of warriors may have had a function within the context of the consecration of war; like many preparatory rituals and restrictions, their long hair may also have expressed their holy state when waging war. However, long hair in itself does not necessarily imply the divinely favoured position of a hero in the biblical texts.63 In the above-mentioned clay plaque, the long tresses of defeated monster/Ḫumbaba are being dishevelled by the victorious hero – the victory over Ḫumbaba is symbolized in the very dishevelment of his hair, which results in him standing in sharp contrast to the well-groomed triumphant heroes. What is particularly striking about the plaque under discussion, is that this monster/Ḫumbaba has seven locks of hair – the same number mentioned in the Samson narrative. In the Gilgameš epic Ḫumbaba is described as “a giant protected by seven layers of terrifying radiance, melam(mu)” (Black and Green 1992, 106). Melam(mu) is the mark of divine/supernatural power; “it is a brilliant, visible glamour which is exuded by gods, heroes, sometimes by kings [demons and giants…]. Gods are sometimes said to ‘wear’ their melam like a garment or a crown, and like a garment or a crown, melam can be ‘taken off’. If the god is killed, his melam disappears” (Black and Green 1992, 130–31). The seven curls of hair and the seven layers of awe-inspiring radiance, the supernatural/divine power melammu, in the presentation of Ḫumbaba may remind one of the seven locks of Samson and his superhuman strength/power (‫ )כוח‬residing in his hair and related to the presence of the deity. His seven plaits of hair having been removed, Samson’s power/strength disappears and the deity leaves him. These motifs in the depiction of Ḫumbaba and Samson seem to 63.  Cf. Deut 32:42. Contrast the figure of the “hairy” Esau (Gen 27:11) with Jacob. Note also the depiction of the long-haired Absalom’s demise, who was caught by his head in an oak tree (2 Sam 18:10, cf. 14:26).

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be parallel, but apparently not identical, patterns and they appear to fulfil similar functions in their stories. The motif of the seven locks of hair will be discussed below in more detail with reference to solar mythology. On the Mesopotamian clay plaque presenting Ḫumbaba’s killing, it is also worth noting that Gilgameš and Enkidu pin him down with their feet and Enkidu grips his hair (seven locks) as well, holding a sword vertically to his neck in preparation for Ḫumbaba’s decapitation. These motifs may be compared with Samson’s hair (seven locks) being woven64 with the web and made tight with a pin by Delilah while he lies sleeping, and with the dormant Sisera’s being pegged to the ground through his temple. The idea of beheading itself may recall the central role of the head motif in the Samson–Delilah and Yael–Sisera episodes discussed above (not to mention the beheading of Holofernes, cf. n. 50 above). Importantly, the head motif is significant, perhaps even crucial, to the depictions of Ḫumbaba: “in the Babylonian Epic, the severed head of Ḫumbaba is fastened to the cedar door offered as a present to Enlil. The scene seems to be an aetiology of the apotropaic use of the Ḫumbaba faces” (Toorn 1999b, 432 referring to Wiggermann 1992, 146).65 In sum, it is striking that the head and hair motifs play a crucial role in the narrative’s plot, and they appear within the context of similar sets of motifs in the aforementioned biblical and Mesopotamian killing/beheading/hair-binding/hair-cutting scenes. In spite of the functional analogy between the motifs that constitute these scenes, the biblical accounts cannot be linked directly with the Mesopotamian stories and depictions. The direct impact of the Mesopotamian presentations on the biblical narratives is highly unlikely (although it cannot be completely excluded). It seems to me that the resemblance between these sets of motifs may be explained by presuming a folklore (and perhaps some ancient Near Eastern mythological) background for them. The folklore motifs listed and analyzed above may provide a key to this phenomenon, and they may promote a better understanding of these scenes. 2.3.5. Hairy Samson – The Semi-Divine Hero? On the folklore/mythological level, the hair motif of the Samson narrative is also included in a possible divine paternity pattern which is similar 64.  As already noted, the motif of weaving associated with fighting appears in the description of Goliath, “whose spear was like a weaver’s beam” (2 Sam 21:19), and who is a similar figure to Samson (see below). 65.  This apotropaic function of the Ḫumbaba head is presented on Old Babylonian clay plaques and seals (the Ḫumbaba faces are set high in the background, as if they were hung on the wall), and such a head/face was actually carved in stone at the entrance of the temple of Tell al-Rimah (Black and Green 1992, 106).

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to the sons of God and daughters of man story formulated in Gen 6:1–4 (discussed above). In the latter text (Gen 6:4), superhuman/semi-divine origin is attributed to the Nephilim, while the so-called gibbôrîm are identified with them. On these grounds, one may presume that Samson represents the sort of hero also represented by the Nephilim, gibbôrîm, Rephaim, Anakim, and the like (see Coxon 1999b; Rouillard 1999). All these groups of heroes are either identified or associated with one another.66 They can be defined as giant heroes, excellent warriors, the ancient inhabitants of Palestine (and/or the spirits of the dead/fallen warriors, kings). The term gibbôrîm, which is a much more generally used phrase than the other denominations, denotes the warriors of the primeval period – ‫ – גברים אשר מעולם‬in Gen 6:4 (see Coxon 1999a, 345; Kosmala 1973, 909). It is worthwhile mentioning here the most famous representative of this group of heroes – Goliath (‫ילד להרפה‬, “descendant of Rapha,”67 cf. 2 Sam 21:19, 22), a character who shares many common features with Samson (the actual difference between them is their respectively negative vs. positive presentations; see Mobley 2006, 64–65).68 Gregory Mobley (2006, 13) refers to Rüdiger Bartelmus (1979), who interprets the figure of Samson within the context of other heroic traditions in the Hebrew Bible, for instance, the birth of the Nephilim. Bartelmus places these stories, including the divine paternity pattern, within a so-called Heroenkonzept used in the eastern Mediterranean region and Mesopotamia. Joseph Blenkinsopp (1959, 81–83; cf. Mobley 2006, 13) also applies a wider perspective and refers to a Levantine heroic literature that manifests itself in Homeric as well as biblical narratives, among others in the Samson saga. It is worth observing that the divine paternity pattern is a well-known motif associated with Homeric/Greek heroes. Considering Samson’s many heroic features, as well as the possible divine paternity, it seems significant that Samson repeatedly states that, were he to lose his strength, he would become like a human being (‫והייתי כאחד האדם‬, Judg 16:7, 11). This declaration may imply that he considers himself to be a semi-divine hero, with his superhuman status embodied precisely in his hair. (It has been mentioned that their hair is one of the distinctive features of the Greek heroes as well.) In the present biblical context, although one can discover some traces pointing to the folklore/mythological motif of divine paternity, this motif seems to be 66.  Beside Gen 6:4, see, e.g., Deut 2:11; and compare Ezek 32:27 with Ps 88:11 and Isa 14:9. 67.  See Becking 1999, 687. 68.  I owe this observation to Ehud Ben Zvi, who made some comments on my paper presented at the EABS Annual Meeting 2008 in Lisbon.

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re-interpreted. The figure of Samson indeed resembles that of Heracles (cf., e.g., Margalith 1987), who has two fathers: a divine one, Zeus, and a human one, Amphytrion. Both the figure of Samson and that of Heracles may be interpreted as semi-divine heroes. Still, in the characterization of Heracles the divine elements prevail. Most importantly, after his death, Heracles becomes deified (cf. Theogony 953ff.). By contrast, after his death, Samson’s human family buries his body in the tomb of his human father, Manoah (16:31). Samson’s hair is the embodiment of his special relationship with the deity, and this connection was probably based on paternity in the folklore/mythological version of the story. In the biblical characterization of Samson, the human element prevails: he is a human being first and foremost. In the light of this re-interpretation, the attitude of Samson even more decisively underlines his fatal hubris. Finally, when he reveals his secret (16:17), he seems to admit that he is after all a human being – albeit an exceptional one. At that moment, he declares that if his hair is cut, he will be like anyone else (‫)והייתי ככל־האדם‬. 2.3.6. Seven Locks of Hair: Superhuman Power and Solar/Cosmic Symbolism Solar symbolism has long been discussed in relation to the Samson narra­ tive. Indeed, several scholars have argued that the seven locks of Samson’s hair represent the sun’s rays (cf. Crenshaw 1979, 16; Taylor 1993, 93–95). With reference to Samson’s seven locks of hair, John Day (2000, 162) remarks that “the sun’s rays are often depicted as hair,” and he draws attention to the Palestinian representations of the sun god, Helios, “with seven rays69 coming from his head” – although these examples are much later than the composition of the text.70 It has been observed above that in the depiction of Ḫumbaba on the clay plaque, the character has seven curls of hair. These seven curls may be associated with the seven layers of divine radiance, melammu, the mark of supernatural power. Furthermore, they may be regarded as typologically analogous to the superhuman strength/power of Samson residing in his seven locks of hair. One may note that in both cases (i.e. the melammu and the sun’s rays), some form of radiance symbolizes the divine/superhuman power. It is notable that the head and even the seven locks of hair are specified as the locus of this power. 69.  The idea of the seven rays of the sun seems to be such a well-known, cross-cultural concept that is attested even in the Hungarian saying “hét ágra süt a nap” (“the sun shines with seven rays”). 70.  Cf. the synagogue mosaics of Hammath Tiberias, Beth Alpha, etc.; see the depic­ tions e.g. in Weiss 2000, 54.

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The question arises whether the number seven expresses anything particular in the hair motif of the Samson narrative (note again that the number differs from the four or six curls of the Laḫmu). There is no direct evidence to decide the issue. From the perspective of the solar theory (solar/cosmic symbolism), one might associate the seven locks of hair, a potential reference to the seven rays of the sun, with the number of planets. Seven “planets” (that is, moving celestial objects, including the sun and the moon) were known to Mesopotamian astronomy and throughout the ancient world.71 This seven-planet idea seems to appear also in Zech 4:10: “These seven are the eyes of YHWH, which range through the whole earth” (NRSV). In accordance with the seven-planets idea (and still within the scope of solar/cosmic symbolism), one might also recall one of the mythical reconstructions of the universe: the concept of seven heavens and seven earths.72 This idea appears in Sumerian tradition, and was, according to Horowitz (1998, 217), “popular in the Near East during the later part of the first millennium B.C.E. and the first millennium C.E.”73 However, one must admit that there is no evidence to prove that at the time of the composition of the Samson cycle74 this concept was well-known in Palestine. At this juncture, it has to be noted that these associations – seven planets, seven heavens and earths – must be treated as hypothetical, since we lack evidence of a direct connection with the Samson narrative. Moreover, they all depend on the presumed solar symbolism present in the Samson saga, a proposal which is not universally accepted. Nevertheless, the idea that Samson’s seven locks of hair may symbolize the seven rays 71.  The “seven ancient planets” were the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn. These “planets” are visible to the naked eye (that is why they were known throughout the ancient world), and they were distinguished from the fixed stars since their position and movements “vary in relation to the general pattern of fixed stars” (Horowitz 1998, 153). Cf. also Gundel and Gundel 1950. 72.  Another well-known ancient reconstruction of the universe is the concept of the three heavens and earth (recorded in an Akkadian mystical religious text KAR 307 30–38; see Horowitz 1998, 208, 217). For modern pictorial reconstructions of the biblical conception of the cosmos, see Wright 2000, 90–93. 73.  Cf. especially 1 En. 1:1–2; 17; 18:1–4. According to Horowitz (1998, 217), “In Enoch, these heavens rise above the spheres of the sun, moon, stars, and planets.” The concept of seven heavens and earths also appears in various, very different cultures. Cf. the Pythagorean concept of the planet spheres (Sambursky 1990, 358). Cf. also the idea of the seven worlds in Hungarian mythology (Ipolyi 1929, 2:77). 74.  For a summary of the various theories about the (relative) dating of the different materials in the book of Judges, see, e.g., O’Brien 1994.

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of the sun has received broad scholarly acceptance.75 If we accept that YHWH had certain features which can be connected to solar (cosmic) symbolism76 (so Keel and Uehlinger 1994; Stähli 1985; Dion 1991; Taylor 1993,77 1996; Day 2000, 151–63), it is not surprising that the hero of YHWH was thought to bear such characteristics. 2.3.7. The High Priest and Nazirate: Hair, Head, Consecration and Self-Offering Another possible biblical parallel of the hair motif in the Samson story is the regulation about the hairstyle of the high priest formulated in Lev 21:10, 12 (cf. 10:6). These restrictions about his hairstyle probably serve to indicate the holy state of the high priest. In these verses the root ‫פרע‬ plays a central role, and it has already been remarked that the Hebrew root may have connections to long hair, to (military) leadership, or to selfdedication in Judg 5:2, Num 6:5, and Deut 32:42. Yet in Lev 21:10 and 10:6, in connections to the high priest’s hair, ‫ פרע‬is usually translated as “dishevel” (NRSV) or “uncover.” Whatever the precise meaning, it would seem that the high priest was forbidden from having his hair in a certain undesirable state (the context suggests an association with the defiling act of mourning). According to Pnina Galpaz-Feller (2005, 90, referring to J. G. Janzen 1989), “unkempt hair symbolized a break with the social and religious order.” One may easily associate the well-arranged hair of the high priest and his holy state with the neatly plaited hair of Samson, who is “consecrated,” nāzîr, to YHWH. However, Richard L. Goerwitz (1996; cf. 2003),78 has sought to refute the conventional interpretations of ‫ פרע‬in Lev 21:10 and 10:6 (“dishevel,” “uncover”). Nevertheless, these passages 75.  John Day (2000, 162 n. 38) refers to Martin (1975, 152), Soggin (1981, 231), and Lindars (1983, 11) in this respect (not to mention J. G. Taylor; Crenshaw is more critical; see above). 76.  Note that this approach is different from the one that completely equates YHWH with the sun. For a brief overview of the problem. see Day 2000, 156–61. 77.  Wiggins’ study (1996) refutes the argumentation of Stähli and of Taylor. It was immediately responded to by Taylor (1996). 78.  In these passages the context suggests that the defiling impact of death and mourning is the reason why this act, ‫פרע‬, is forbidden for the high priest. Goerwitz maintains that according to the biblical evidence, shaving and tearing the hair off served as mourning rites until the Hellenistic period (cf., e.g., Isa 3:24; 15:2; 22:12; Jer 16:6; 47:5; Ezek 7:18; 23:34; 27:31; Mic 1:16; Amos 8:10; Ezra 9:3; 23:34; see Goerwitz 2003, 375). He mentions (2003, 374) that “unbinding and dishevelling is nowhere [else] associated with mourning or death in the Hebrew Bible”; that is why he refutes this interpretation in the cases of Lev 21:10 and 10:6 as well.

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seem to imply that the high priest wore his hair long (cf. also Ezek 44:20).79 This would, indeed, appear to be in accordance with the general grooming customs of the TaNaKh period.80 In addition, the high priest has the nēzer (‫ )נזר‬of God’s anointing oil on his head (Lev 21:12). The idea of nēzer, “consecration,” of the high priest, with the head being the locus of consecration, can immediately be compared to the Nazirate “consecration” of Samson, which is similarly situated on his hair and head (“No razor is to come on his head, for the boy shall be a Nazirite [‫ ]נזיר‬to God from birth,” Judg 13:5; cf. also 16:13, 17, 19, where the term “head” is central in the hair-binding and hair-cutting scenes). Moreover, the consecration is directly connected to God (‫ )אלהים‬in these texts about the high priest and Samson. The restrictions placed upon the Nazirites in Num 6 are often compared to those concerning the priests, and especially the high priest (Mayer 1986, 332–33). Eliezer Diamond (1997, 6–7) even claims that “the Nazirite and the priest are similar in character,” and he emphasizes the sacred nature of the Nazirate. Samson is a nāzîr to God in the biblical text, but the only sign of his Nazirite state is his unshorn hair; in Num 6:1–21 the restrictions concerning the Nazirites also specify abstention from wine and any contact with a corpse. Significantly, the consumption of wine and contact with corpses both feature in the life of Samson. Tony W. Cartledge (1989, 410–13) differentiates between two types of Nazirites, specifying that Samson was a kind of “early Nazirite,” a charismatic individual with a lifelong calling “to a special relationship with God” (1989, 411; cf. Amos 2:11, Mayer 1986, 330); he underlines, however, that even at this early stage the distinctive feature of the Nazirites was their unshorn hair (cf. Samuel’s dedication to God by his mother in 1 Sam 1:11: “no razor shall touch his head”). On the one hand, it seems to be obvious that the lifelong, charismatic type of Nazirate differs from the temporary one to a certain extent. On the other hand, however, the proposal of Cartledge does not provide an integrated perspective, and it cannot harmonize the two kinds of Nazirate.81 In my view, Eliezer Diamond’s theory might convincingly account for this problem, resulting in a plausible comprehensive interpretation of both the Nazirite state of Samson and the Nazirate as is defined in Num 6. 79.  See Goerwitz 1996 and 2003. 80.  For the period before the Hellenistic times, see Goerwitz 2003, 376. 81.  Cartledge is not alone in attempting to explain the differences between the description of Nazirites in Num 6:1–21 and the depiction of Samson. For a summary of the proposals, see Diamond 1997, 8.

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According to Diamond’s proposal (1997, 1), “the key to understanding the Nazirite is to see him as both officiant and offering: one who offers himself symbolically by growing his hair in ritual purity, abstaining from grape products…and then immolating his hair in the Temple precincts.” He continues: In the case of Samson and his mother, the roles of the offerer and offering have been divided; Samson’s mother is the offerer, and he is the oblation… Hence it is the mother…who is subject to the restrictions of wine consumption and impurity until she has brought her offering… Samson, on the other hand, is the offering. As a symbol and consequence of his perpetual dedication to God, he must let his hair grow throughout his lifetime.” (1997, 8–9)

In this light, we might plausibly explain why only the restriction of haircutting is placed on Samson, and why he is not criticized for drinking wine and touching corpses in chs. 14–15 (see n. 9 above).82 Furthermore, if one accepts Diamond’s interpretation, it is unnecessary to assume that the prohibitions concerning the mother are later insertions into an earlier story83 or that the motif of Nazirite and even the whole of ch. 13 was added to the Samson narrative in some redactional phase (see n. 9). As has been discussed, the hair motif and the connected “hair Nazirite” pattern are central and essential parts of the plot in the Samson cycle. Diamond (1997, 2) also points out that “in many cultures hair is seen as representing the essence of an individual and it is therefore often sacred or taboo and/or is given as an offering to the deity.”84 This does not contradict, in my opinion, the approach that has been highlighted at various points of the present study – namely, that the deity almost seems to manifest himself in the hair of Samson. Samson’s entire person is consecrated, nāzîr, to the deity, with his hair being regarded as the essence of his consecrated person. This hair, at the same time, embodies the presence of the deity. In this way, Samson’s hair symbolizes the mutual contact between Samson and YHWH. Once his hair is cut, Samson loses his holy state and the bond between hero and deity is severed – they are “cut off” from each other, so to speak. As a result of the hair-cutting, Samson also appears to “lose himself” – his own human personality, his warrior role and/or even his male status. He is treated like a domestic animal or, from another perspective, 82.  For a summary of the problematic places, see, e.g., Blenkinsopp 1959, 84. 83.  Diamond (1997, 8) refers to Zuckschwerdt (1976, 192). 84.  The most important works Diamond (1997, 3) refers to are Leach’s Magical Hair (1958) and Obeyesekere’s Medusa Hair (1981), which observe the issue from an anthropological point of view.

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like a woman in the grinding scene (Judg 16:21; Niditch 1990, 616–17); he is subdued and oppressed. However, this humiliation of Samson may recall the shaving of the Levites that directly preceded their consecration ritual, and as such can be interpreted as a kind of initiation rite leading to their ordination (cf. Num 8:7–15). The shaving of Samson can be seen as his “humiliating initiation”: it actually precedes and foreshadows what will come, namely the fulfilment of his Nazirite mission and thus his true transition into the Nazirite state (see the following two paragraphs). His hair having grown again (v. 22), Samson’s relationship with the deity is restored by his prayer (v. 28), and he fulfils his original divine mission by killing countless Philistines (v. 30, cf. 13.5). When observing this sequence of events, it is striking that the motif of hair-growing is completed by that of the prayer, as if the power residing in his hair were not sufficient for Samson to perform his final deed. From all this, one may conclude that this structure gives supremacy to the prayer over the hair motif (Amit 1999, 306). While the construction of the episode may give rise to thoughts that the motif of the prayer was added later to the folklore motif of the magic hair, nevertheless, a prayer to the deity fits in well with a presumed earlier mythological version of the story (the divine paternity pattern indicates that such a version may have existed). The hair-cutting scene may e ven suggest that the deity actually manifests himself in the hair of Samson (here Samson’s strength residing in his hair seems to be equated with the divine presence, see above); therefore, the growing of his hair may imply the restoration of some basic relationship between Samson and his God. This assumption is supported by the prayer itself since in this scene Samson proves to be capable of communicating with his deity again (cf. Judg 15:18–19). Yet it is also apparent here that his hair on its own, the mere contact with the deity, is no longer sufficient: the prayer, the actual verbal formulation of his humble request for divine help (Amit 1999, 306),85 the admission that his strength depends on God, is necessary for Samson to achieve his greatest victory. Returning to the motif of Nazirate, Diamond (1997, 18) interprets “the Nazirate as a self-sacrifice, with one’s hair representing one’s entire being,” and he regards Samson himself as an oblation. In this respect it seems to be significant that, according to Diamond, Samson is originally offered by his mother, with the offering being required and initiated by the deity (Judg 13:5). In the last scene of the Samson narrative, however, 85.  Yairah Amit (1999, 306) underlines that the style of Samson’s prayer differs from the one in Judg 15:18 (En-hak-kore scene), where Samson speaks in a complaining, rebellious manner.

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Samson offers himself (16:30). At the end of his life, he takes on the role of the initiator, and, following the logic of Diamond’s theory, which regards the Nazirate as a self-sacrifice, Samson actually appears to fulfil his Nazirite mission by his final act – his self-sacrifice; the offering of his own life to YHWH.86 2.4. Summary and Conclusions to Chapter 2 The hair motif (“magic strength resides in hair”) and the motifs accompanying it seem to form the very basis for the structure of the Samson cycle. It appears plausible to suppose that one can perceive clear folklore(/ mythological) motifs connected to the hair motif in the cycle. The most significant of these are the “miraculous birth” and “divine paternity” patterns, and the motif of “sleeping with head laid in wife’s lap.” Moreover, the latter is related to the hair-tying pattern (in the Delilah episode) that can be associated with certain folklore motifs where someone (normally a woman) ties the hero’s hair (to something) in preparation for his attack/ murder. The figure of Samson itself can be specified as a (culture) hero as well as a trickster, opposing oppressive authority (so Niditch). Within the wider heroic tradition of warriors and wild men as described by Mobley, Samson seems basically to represent a specific type, the folklore character of the “Remarkably strong man (Strong John),” who displays striking trickster features (cf. Niditch 2008, 155, 159). This figure is a lonely hero with a clear human background (he derives from a human family), as well as a connection to wild nature. Importantly, his marked, characteristic wildness is not unrestrained – Samson resembles but is not identical with the “Wild man of superhuman strength.” He is a heroic type, yet in his lonely actions he also differs from many warrior figures. He subdues wild creatures. What is more, he often confronts and assiduously provokes (in a tricky/brutal way) characters representing the negative/oppressive aspect

86.  This interpretation of Samson’s final act is radically different from the one repre­ sented above all by von Rad (1987, 1:346), who regards Samson as a failed charismatic and an abortive Nazirite. Nevertheless, I agree with the conclusion drawn from the Samson saga by Mobley (2006, 115), that after pulling down the temple of Dagon there is no place for Samson in the society. In my reading, Samson is the super-hero of the book of Judges, who fulfils his divine mission by his final act, the self-sacrifice. Yet there is no chance of a development for this heroic character and ideal. All this seems to foreshadow the end of the “heroic age,” as Mobley claims at the end of his book (2006, 111–13; see also Mobley 2005).

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of culture and power (tricksters themselves), who try to eliminate him. This character, Strong John, is a basically positive figure, a hero, in folk literature (note that most characteristics of Strong John can be discovered in the figure of Heracles). From the perspective of cultural memory, one may conclude that the positive presentation, as well as the characteristics and adventures of the hero, could well be preserved from a folklore version of the Samson saga. It is likely that very little was added, and little taken away, from the core folklore version of the episodes discussed in the present chapter. It is especially clear in the case of the Delilah episode. The folklore saga seems to have been retained quite consistently in the biblical account, and even the mythological allusions were not eliminated (see also below). In the Delilah story, however, a character does appear to have been suppressed: the man. On the basis of the parallel folklore motifs, it is quite plausible to argue that in the folklore version of the Samson story this man was a rival lover who took part in the attempt against the hero. In the biblical version, this man was commemorated in the briefest of remarks. It may be, in fact, that the authors were here relying on the “collective memory” of their readers (recollection), and they also wanted to record the story in its popular form without omission of a known character,87 yet, at the same time, without placing too great an emphasis on the man–woman relationship (though it is a key issue in the book of Judges). It seems to me that by suppressing the function of the man figure (namely, that he is a rival lover), the theme of human–divine connection is elevated to an even more central position in the biblical version of the Samson saga. The closest biblical parallel to the Samson–Delilah episode is the Yael– Sisera incident in the book of Judges: although the plots and contexts are different, each is probably built on a basically similar set of folklore motifs. Furthermore, identical phrases and roots are applied in both stories. One may discover certain analogies between these biblical depictions and those found in written and iconographical Mesopotamian sources (i.e. the Laḫmu and his hair, Ḫumbaba and his head, hair and melammu). The resemblance of the biblical and Mesopotamian representations seems to be structural, typological, and not due to any direct historical contact. This phenomenon may be better understood on the basis of the folklore(/mythological) motifs listed and discussed in the foregoing pages. As we have observed, Samson’s seven neatly plaited long locks, his well-groomed long hair, seem to harmonize with some presentations of biblical and Mesopotamian heroes/warriors; while being a successful hero, he appears to possess the 87.  I owe this observation to Anna Ábrahám.

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well-arranged “heroic hairstyle” proposed by Gregory Mobley. As regards Samson’s seven locks, one possible interpretation of the number seven in the hair motif might be perceived within the perspective of solar/cosmic theory (seven rays of the sun, seven “ancient planets,” seven heavens and earth). Within the book of Judges, Samson is the super-hero. In a presumed folklore/mythological version of the story, Samson was probably regarded even as a semi-divine hero. In a folklore/mythological version, the deity could also have played a part, and Samson’s hair could very well have been seen as the manifestation of the divine presence. Likewise, a kind of “early/hair Nazirate,” a complete dedication to the deity, with Samson’s hair representing his entire being, might well have formed part of an earlier Samson saga. By the simple means of emphasizing his human origin (in Judg 16:31 Manoah is clearly identified as his father), Samson’s arrogance becomes much more apparent in the biblical text than in a presumed folklore/mythological story: the warrior behaves like an invincible semidivine hero, whereas he is a mortal being. Most importantly, the biblical Samson may have some kind of semi-divine background, similar to that of Hercules. Unlike Hercules, however, Samson never becomes a deified hero after his death. Moreover, at the end of the Samson narrative it is strikingly emphasized that not only the strength in his hair, that is the embodiment of divine presence, is required to perform his heroic mission. Samson also expresses in an actual verbal form, a prayer, that his strength depends on God and he asks for divine help in a humble manner. The supremacy of Samson’s prayer over the hair motif may be due to a shift from a folklore/mythological story to a biblical narrative. Presumably, certain elements of a popular Samson story were suppressed or down-played (divine origin, the man, etc.). Nevertheless, the basic structure of the saga, with the hair motif at its centre, was preserved and commemorated quite consistently. More stress was placed on certain aspects, by which means a particular change in tone was achieved. Even the motif of self-sacrifice, which can be interpreted as the fulfilment of the Nazirite mission (i.e. the complete self-dedication to the deity), could actually fit in well with a folklore/mythological version of the story – it provides an ending that chimes with the original dedication of Samson initiated by the deity. Nevertheless, it seems to me that, as a result of the shift that gave supremacy to the prayer over the hair motif, in the present version of the Samson cycle more stress is laid on the conscious nature of Samson’s final act, his offering up of his life to YHWH.

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Significantly, the motif of self-offering, self-sacrifice, links the Samson cycle with the previous story of Jephthah’s daughter in the book of Judges (cf. Chapter 1 above). One is the most prominent heroine, the other is the super-hero of the book – both of them personify complete self-dedication to the deity. It is worthwhile here to bring the two strands of the present discussion together. 2.5. Jephthah’s Daughter and Samson Within the Book of Judges In its present form, the book of Judges appears to be a complex and consciously structured composition. It has often been noted that ch. 10, where the introduction to the Jephthah cycle is found (vv. 6–18), signals a new section within the book (cf., e.g., Boling 1975, 30). That introduction to the Jephthah cycle is a long Deuteronomistic speech which seems to be a theological introduction to the new section of the book. Thus it appears to be a plausible theory that the Jephthah and the Samson cycles together (cf. chs. 10–16, with the intermission of the remarks on the “minor judges”) constitute one coherent section of Judges before the so-called appendix of the book (chs. 17–21). As was already pointed out by Gerhard von Rad (1957), the entire book of Judges portrays a kind of continual degradation, a downward spiral. Here, Israel descends, step-bystep, ever deeper into violence as the book progresses, until, eventually, physical aggression entails not only physical battles and wars against hostile peoples, but culminates in a war within Israel itself – a “total war” within the community (almost a bellum omnium contra omnes), resulting in the near-extermination of an entire tribe of Israel (cf. ch. 20). As was mentioned in the Introduction to this book, many female characters play a key role in the stories of Judges – although, at first glance, the book seems to be principally concerned with heroes, warriors, and war. However, besides the leitmotif of military heroism (actual battles and wars), the problem of “war between the sexes” is also a major organizing theme in the book of Judges (cf. Bal 1988, e.g. p. 1). Central female characters – whose stories have been analyzed above – include Deborah, Yael, and Delilah. While Deborah exercises judicial functions and is a civil leader (cf. Judg 4:4–5), she also proves to be a war prophet (4:6–9, 14), a female military leader (4:6–10, 14; 5:7, 12, 15), and appears as a female warrior as well (5:12, 15). Yael, on the other hand, strives with non-military, “feminine” methods, and she probably uses her personal charm to overtake Israel’s enemy, Sisera (cf. 5:27). The story of Delilah (and that of Judith) closely resemble(s) the account of Yael’s victory in many respects: all these stories have the motif “sleeping with head laid in

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wife’s lap” at their core, and all these women win over men by employing feminine tactics and not direct military techniques. Yael is depicted as the supreme heroine among the others, the “most blessed of women” (cf. 5:24). By contrast, Delilah – who uses very similar tricks but against the positive hero, Samson – appears as the negative parallel to the figure of Yael; Delilah embodies the prototype of the “foreign woman” who defeats the Israelite hero. The account on Jephthah’s daughter (Judg 11:29–40) is found between these two narratives, between the story of Yael and that of Delilah (in chs. 4–5 and 16 respectively). Furthermore, as mentioned above, Mikael Sjöberg (2006, 62) observes that “vows involving virgins/daughters frame the book” (cf. Judg 1:12; 21:1), referring to the story of Achsah and that of the Shilonite girls. As Bal (1988, 72) put it, the narrative on Jephthah’s daughter “occupies the exact middle of the book.” Thus Jephthah’s vow, which concerns his virgin daughter, perfectly suits the framework of Judges. That the story of Jephthah’s daughter occupies the very centre of the book cannot, I believe, be without significance. The Jephthah cycle commences with the description of an alienation of Israel and YHWH (Judg 10:6–16), one which is unparalleled and which runs much deeper than the earlier such depictions within the book of Judges. This profound estrangement between Israel and the deity powerfully pictures the downward spiral that characterizes the structure of Judges. The woman figure that appears here (11:1), Jephthah’s mother (‫אשה זונה‬, ‫)אשה אחרת‬, seems to embody the religious alienation, the unfaithfulness of Israel towards YHWH depicted above. The entire complication of the plot begins with Jephthah’s mother, whose figure expresses the troubled state of Israel at the beginning of the story, and whose status determines the future destiny of her son, Jephthah. When considering the wider context, the escalating tendency of violence becomes evident, not only culminating in a civil war (cf. ch. 20), which is the most brutal, self-destructive type of armed conflict, but violence between the sexes also escalates to an extreme degree, reaching the level of unbelievable brutality: the story of the Levite’s concubine, the gang rape that causes her death, is possibly the most horrible story in Judges (cf. ch. 19). This account symbolizes the most monstrous, the worst possible, form of man–woman relations. On the other hand, female-only rituals (cf. 11:37–40 and 21:19–23) and the motif of marriage (cf. 1:12–13; 11:31, 39 and 21:10–14, 15–23) frame and structure the book of Judges. These female rituals and the pattern of marriage appear in connection with martial symbolism, with women being pictured as the spoil or prize of martial victory: “chasing” the reward (i.e. the woman) is presented as

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the archetype and basis of the marital bond, and man–woman relations are clearly associated with the idea of combat and war. At the very beginning of Judges, a woman (Achsah) is the reward that is given to an earthly warrior for his victory – he gains her hand (1:12–13). At the exact middle of the book, the divine warrior, YHWH, is rewarded for his victory by an offering, by Jephthah’s daughter, and she becomes the “bride of the deity” in a spiritual sense, in a “heavenly union” (11:31–40). And finally, the book of Judges ends with the motif of multitudinous marriages. The warriors get wives for themselves, they actually rob the young women as if the girls were spoil (21:15–23, cf. also vv. 10–14), and the motif of numerous marriages also settles and resolves the tremendous military conflict, the total combat developed in the previous chapter (cf. ch. 20). Viewed in this light, it appears most significant that the story of Jephthah’s daughter is centred around the motif of women coming out to greet warriors who return from battle: the narrative culminates in the scene when men (warriors) and women, father and daughter, meet and confront each other. This scene probably reflects a traditional ritual (cf. Exod 15:19–21; 1 Sam 18:6–7) which served to reintegrate warriors into (civil) society – “calming them down,” so to speak, after a military conflict. Yet this encounter with the returning warriors also implies danger for women. The framework stories of Judges actually suggest that the pacifying impact of females can effectively conclude military conflicts, and that both real war and the “war between the sexes” can be resolved through marriage. It is as if matrimony symbolized a kind of reconciliation after serious conflict, be that a conflict between hostile warriors, or between men and women. The motif of multitudinous marriages with which the book of Judges concludes, is an especially impressive symbol and a very effective expression of this idea, although for the modern reader forced marriage is not an acceptable form of the marital bond. Yet the book of Judges undeniably depicts a thoroughly patriarchal society which valued martial power above all else. Placed at the exact middle of the book, the motif of union between the heroine (Jephthah’s daughter) and the deity proves to be the summit of the book of Judges. This is the archetypal union, even if it is not in the least an actual marriage. We have here a metaphoric union, a symbolic relationship meant in a spiritual sense. The central position of this text within Judges seems to highlight that, according to the theology of the book, relationship with the divine, with YHWH himself, surpasses any human relations. This idea is confirmed by the statement that Jephthah’s daughter “becomes an institution/law/custom in Israel” (Judg 11:39bβ), which is a status that exceeds any other in Judges.

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Jephthah’s daughter gains her status not through violence, but by acting in a peaceful, calming, and wise manner that may remind one of the prophetess Deborah, who judges Israel sitting under her palm (cf. 4:4–5). Jephthah’s daughter is determined, firm, and brave. Yet she is also peaceful and, by acting in this way, she wins the day – she becomes a heroine through her sacrifice and self-dedication. She actually embodies a certain acknowledgment of females within a patriarchal society – it is a female who “becomes an institution in Israel.” Acting through peaceful means, she exceeds all other heroines in Judges – even the warrior and military leader Deborah, “mother in Israel” (5:7), and the supreme heroine Yael, the “most blessed of women,” who brutally kills the enemy of Israel and triumphs. Jephthah’s daughter enters the realm of holiness forever through her heroic death, and, holding the highest possible female status, being an eternal symbolic “bride of the deity,” she embodies faithfulness to YHWH. It is striking that this apex of female heroism is essentially due to her relationship with God. Moreover, although the spirit of YHWH assists other heroes as well, in this story it is the deity himself to whom the victory is directly attributed. It is especially emphasized that YHWH, the divine warrior himself, wins the battle and gains the reward for it, i.e. the offering of Jephthah’s daughter (cf. 11:30–31, 36). Within a book on heroes and warriors, it is only natural and logical that the greatest of all heroes, the divine warrior himself, proves to be the real victor and hero in the central story of the book, a story which is at the exact middle of Judges and forms its summit as well. Placed right after the Jephthah cycle, the Samson narrative presents the zenith of male heroism, which seems to complete and form a counterpart to the story of the most excellent heroine, Jephthah’s daughter. Samson is without doubt the most outstanding warrior, the absolute superhero of the book – no other warrior surpasses him but YHWH, the divine warrior. And it is precisely his extraordinary relationship with YHWH that makes Samson the superhero even in his mother’s womb. His supreme heroism arises exclusively from his relationship with the deity. Although 16:31 finally declares that Samson’s human father is Manoah, some traces of a divine paternity motif can be detected in the biblical text. Samson’s mother offers her son to the deity before his birth (cf. Judg 13). In the Samson cycle, man–woman relations constitute a major topic; in this respect, the dedication of Samson to God by his mother is again significant. Samson engages in his divinely ordained mission against the Philistines and he performs several remarkable (and funny) feats. Yet his arrogance and selfexaltation (believing himself to be an entirely superhuman hero) leads to his downfall – YHWH deserts Samson (16:20). Samson is first offered

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to YHWH by a woman, by his mother, and his downfall – his separation from YHWH – is also caused by a woman, Delilah. As mentioned above, Delilah resorts to the very same female tactics which are praised when Yael (and Judith) apply them against Israel’s enemies. However, Delilah uses these female contrivances to defeat a positive hero, the hero of YHWH. By so doing, Delilah becomes the heroine who embodies the nadir of female heroism; she is the absolutely negative female heroine in Judges who defeats a positive hero. The figure of Delilah can be interpreted as the negative counterpart of Yael within the structure of the book (chs. 4–5 and ch. 16). Samson’s heroic death, his self-dedication to the deity, completely fulfils his heroic life. This is what, in fact, makes him an especially prominent hero – the greatest hero in Judges, someone who is only surpassed by the divine warrior himself.

Chapter 3 U r i m a n d T h u m mi m – S a u l a n d D avi d*

This chapter will mainly deal with the so-called Saul cycle and will touch upon some texts concerning David. The Saul cycle, found in the book of 1 Samuel, follows the stories of the judges and shares their main theme and interest: the figure of the hero, the great warrior. It is essential to note that both the book of Judges and the subsequent Saul cycle form part of a large, comprehensive work – the Deuteronomistic History – and thus it is not surprising that the books and cycles following one another are so strongly interrelated. The figure of Jephthah and that of Saul resemble one another in many respects, and, above all, the two incidents involving their respective daughter and son (the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter and Jonathan’s near escape from death) can be easily compared to one another. As has been discussed already, the story of Saul not only continues the same topic – war and heroism – which forms the very essence of the book of Judges, but Saul is presented as an especially prominent hero, one of the greatest heroes. Even physically, Saul excels above all the other warriors; in this respect he closely resembles Samson, who is the superhero of Judges and who cannot be physically surpassed. Moreover, several scholars have pointed out that the biblical Samson and Saul share many common characteristics. Yet, the strongest resemblance between these figures is that, like Samson and Jephthah’s daughter, Saul has an especially close connection to the deity and he suffers a heroic (tragic) death; these features mark the life of the greatest heroes. All three are portrayed as the most prominent heroes and heroine. However, Saul embodies the downfall of a great hero, and thus his death signals the end of the entire era, the decline of the heroic age.

* Sections 3.1 and 3.2 have already been published in Kamrada 2012.

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The present investigation focuses on the core section of the story of Saul – the so-called Saul cycle – and touches upon some texts concerning David. In the Saul cycle, the motif of divination, divinatory rites – especially the so-called Urim and Thummim ritual – appears remarkably often. As a matter of fact, according to my reconstruction, the motif of divination constitutes the very core, the leading thread of the presumed Saul cycle. Accordingly, the following investigation will centre around the key issue of divination, the Urim and Thummim ritual in particular. That investigation will be closely interrelated with the analysis of the actual biblical texts in the Saul cycle. In what follows, Section 3.1 will concentrate on the Urim and Thummim oracle, seeking to place it within the general context of divination and oracular practices as such. Next, section 3.2 will offer an analysis of three divinatory scenes found in the so-called Saul cycle (1 Sam 14:37, 40–42 and 1 Sam 28). Finally, section 3.3 will provide a comprehensive investigation of the entire Saul cycle, one which also treats certain biblical texts pertaining to David. 3.1. The Basic Meaning Conveyed by the Urim and Thummim Ritual In modern biblical scholarship, there is much dispute surrounding what sort of object or objects the Urim and Thummim was/were. This is not surprising, since the relatively few passages in the Hebrew Bible where Urim and Thummim occur do not specify their/its actual form and way of usage. Nevertheless, it is generally acknowledged that the Urim and Thummim were originally utilized in an oracular process; this object/ these objects served as the device of a divinatory rite.1 The present chapter will not attempt to put forward another technical reconstruction of this means of oracle; instead, it concentrates on the function of this device in these biblical passages – what sort of interpretations and associations are connected to the Urim and Thummim’s usage, and in what network of notions they are commemorated in the biblical stories. Most importantly, the Urim and Thummim always appear in a ritual context, and are employed in a rite. Within the system outlined by Jan Assmann (2007, 56–59), a rite (or a festival) in itself is a primary organizational form of cultural memory. It is a form of collective memory that provides a basis for the community 1.  Cornelis Van Dam (1997) has devoted an entire monograph to the question of Urim and Thummim. See also Muss-Arnolt 1900; Jeremias 1909; Robertson 1964; Maier 1969; Lipiński 1970; Johnson 1973; Houtman 1990; Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992; Kitz 1997; Hurowitz 1998.

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to interpret and structure the world in their own way. Repetition is a characteristic aspect of rituals as memory construction; on the other hand, as Assmann has argued (2007, 88–91), rites also convey some kind of meaning, reference, interpretation. In what follows I will try to present the system of concepts, the “basic” meaning which this divinatory ritual commemorated within the wider context of ritual coherence. The term “Urim and Thummim” (or simply “Urim”) occurs in priestly texts and the so-called historical books (Exod 28:30; Lev 8:8; Num 27:21; Deut 33:8; 1 Sam 28:6; Ezra 2:63; Neh 7:65). This device is either mentioned as a significant part of the high priestly vestment (some object or objects put in the breastpiece), or simply as (an) article(s) characteristic of the priestly (levite) function. Nevertheless, there are references to the Urim and Thummim’s actual usage in a divinatory rite, as noted above. According to Num 27:21, “But he [Joshua] shall stand before Eleazar the priest, who shall inquire for him by the decision of the Urim before the Lord; at his [Eleazar the priest’s] word they shall go out, and at his word they shall come in, both he [Joshua] and all the Israelites with him, the whole congregation” (NRSV). The terms “going out” (‫ )יצא‬and “coming in” (‫ )בוא‬are predominantly regarded as phrases referring to the waging of war,2 although Van Dam (1997) claims that they do not exclusively indicate military activity. In his view, these verbs express a “wide range of diverse responsibilities of Israel’s next leader [Joshua] toward the people” (1997, 179–80). Still, ‫ יצא‬and ‫ בוא‬certainly express going out to battle and returning from it;3 thus the directions formulated in Num 27:21 evidently involve the sense that the deity is to be consulted by means of the Urim before a battle. In line with the prevailing view that the Urim and Thummim ritual was primarily performed in a military context, 1 Sam 28:6 provides an example of attempting to obtain an oracle before battle by means of this rite. Moreover, a reference to the Urim and Thummim ritual is generally seen to be implied whenever the consultation of the deity before battle is expressed simply by the term -‫שאל ב‬, “inquire of [the deity].”4 The latter phrase is applied in several texts probably alluding to military divination (Judg 1:1; 20:18, 23, 27–28; 1 Sam 10:22; 14:37; 22:10, 13, 15; 23:2, 4; 30:8; 2 Sam 2:1; 5:19, 23–24). The mention of the ephod (which appears to have held the breastpiece Urim and Thummum) 2.  Van Dam (1997, 178–79) cites several ancient texts (Temple Scroll; Targum PseudoJonathan; b. Sanh. 16a) that interpret these terms in a like manner. Furthermore, he also mentions some studies which share this opinion (179 n. 6). 3.  See, e.g., Mobley (2006, 59–60) for the general background of this concept. 4.  Van Dam (1997, 182–90) provides a thorough investigation of this question. Cf. also, e.g., Houtman 1990, 230; Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992, 107.

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in a military context is also generally regarded to be an implicit reference to the Urim and Thummim ritual (1 Sam 23:9–12; 30:7–8;5 cf. the LXX version of 14:18, as well).6 It is generally presumed that the Urim and Thummim rite involved the casting of lots, and the oracle could give “yes/no,” and sometimes “no decision” responses.7 Yet, in his informative monograph, Cornelis Van Dam (1997, 203–10) argues against the lot oracle theory, claiming that some complex responses could not be secured through a lot oracle, which can give only “yes/no” answers.8 Refuting Van Dam’s objection, Victor Hurowitz has pointed out, however, that this binary system was not a distinctive feature of lot oracles. Hurowitz (1998, 267) brings forward the Mesopotamian oracle queries referred to as “Shamash Anfragen”; here, answers were received by liver divination in this oracular process. He notes: “Assyriologists recognize that even in such a complex system [as liver divination] all answers are essentially reducible to ‘yes’ or ‘no’… [The] queries describe detailed situations such as complete battle plans or descriptions of political problems. In every case a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer is requested” (1998, 267; cf. Lambert 2007). In view of this and other Mesopotamian examples, Hurowitz tries to explain the more complex Urim and Thummim answers in the following manner: “A battle plan would be formulated as a question to be answered ‘yes’ for approval and ‘no’ for rejection. The narrator, however, reported the answer as a prophetic-like pronouncement reformulating the question as a command” (1998, 268). The latter phenomenon can be observed in a particular Assyrian example (1998, 267–68). In a previous study on the Urim and Thummim, Hurowitz (co-authoring with Wayne Horowitz) referred to Leo Oppenheim (1977), who has systematized the various Mesopotamian divinatory methods in different ages describing two main types of oracles (Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992, 108). According to this system, one form of oracle produced simple “yes/no” answers, while the other yielded complexly formulated favourable or unfavourable divine responses (apodoses).9 It is striking that not only the 5.  See Van Dam 1997, 143–45; Houtman 1990, 230; and Dommershausen 1973, 996. 6.  See McCarter 1980, 237. 7.  See, e.g., Lipiński 1970, 496; Dommershausen 1973, 995–96; Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992, 107–8. Moreover, even such a proposal as that made by Robertson, who postulates that the Urim and Thummim were tablets inscribed with the letters of the alphabet, assumes that binary answers too could be gained by means of these objects (1964, 72). 8.  Houtman (1990, 229) finds the argumentation of Van Dam (1997) to be convincing. 9.  Cf. the chapter concerning divination, “The Arts of the Diviner,” in Oppenheim 1977, 206–27.

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“yes” or “no” replies are binary, but also the complicated answers gained by the other type of oracles can be divided into two categories (cf., e.g., Koch 2005, 19–23; Zgoll 2006, 450–51). This system outlined by Oppenheim may reveal some kind of general binary nature of oracles as such. Similarly, Frederick Cryer (1994, 276) summarizes his conclusions concerning the Urim and Thummim ritual like this: …the concept of Urim and Thummim…presupposes that they delivered simple binary answers. This…characterizes every ancient Near Eastern form of divination, ranging from the Mesopotamian omen sacrifice to the ancient Egyptian “bark of the god” oracle. They may or may not have been conceived as lots of some sort, but this fact is actually inessential to understanding their role in the texts. Responses Given by the Urim and Thummim Ritual Interpreted as a Lot Oracle Process no

yes

Responses Gained by Mesopotamian Divinatory Methods (systematized by A. L. Oppenheim, cited by W. Horowitz and V. Hurowitz) no unfavourable

yes favourable

Erica Reiner (1960, 25) and Eduard Lipiński (1970) drew attention to a certain divinatory method, the so-called psephomancy ritual, which they considered to have been the closest Mesopotamian parallel of the Urim and Thummim rite. The entirety of Wayne Horowitz and Victor Hurowitz’s 1992 study was devoted to this issue. This ritual was performed by means of two stones, a black (haematite) and a white (alabaster), “called, respectively, aban erēši, ‘the desirable die’, and aban la erēši, ‘the undesirable die’” (Lipiński 1970, 496). Lipiński (1970, 496) directly states that “This confirms the opinion that the ‘ūrīm and tummīm of the Bible were originally two stones and gave a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.” Horowitz and Hurowitz (1992, 106–8) couch their view in different terms, arguing that the psephomancy ritual yielded positive or negative answers as the phrases “stone of desire” and “stone of no desire” indicate, and the stressed point of their argumentation is that both the psephomancy and the Urim and Thummim oracles displayed binary characteristics and provided binary responses. Still, they underline that this binary feature was shared by various Mesopotamian divinatory practices as well, as noted above.

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Heroines, Heroes and Deity Responses Provided by the Psephomancy Ritual (possibly the closest Mesopotamian parallel of the Urim and Thummim rite: E. Reiner, E. Lipiński, W. Horowitz and V. Hurowitz)

no/negative (unfavourable): aban la erēši (“the undesirable die” / “the stone of no desire”)

yes/positive (favourable): aban erēši (“the desirable die” / “the stone of desire”)

Van Dam (1997, 203–4) lists several scholars who have rendered the basic binary replies of the Urim and Thummim oracle not only as “yes” or “no” answers, but also as positive or negative, auspicious or inauspicious divine responses or as contrasts of opposites such as light and darkness, good and evil (cf. Oberwelt–Unterwelt, Jeremias 1909, 225; black and white, as mentioned above concerning the psephomancy ritual). In other words, they have attributed some deeper meaning to the Urim and Thummim oracle. According to the prevailing view (e.g. Fohrer 1969, 72), Urim possibly provided the negative and Thummim the positive response.10 Some Interpretations of the Basic Binary Answers of the Urim and Thummim Ritual (a certain meaning attributed to this oracle) no negative inauspicious Urim

yes positive auspicious Thummim

Summarizing the argumentation put forward above, the Urim and Thum­ mim ritual exhibits strong binary features which it shares with various other ancient Near Eastern divinatory practices. The binary nature appears to entail more than “yes” or “no” answers: it may also convey some deeper meaning. The foregoing discussion has sought to sketch out a basic logic, a binary system, behind the ritual in question, highlighting one aspect of the ritual coherence that provided a primary framework for cultural memory. However, it is essential to take a closer look at the actual biblical texts on the Urim and Thummim rite, keeping in mind that written texts represent a different form and level of cultural memory than the actual performed rituals themselves. This investigation may promote a better understanding of the meaning, the specific connotation that is transmitted through this oracle. All three divinatory scenes analyzed below probably form part of the so-called Saul cycle. 10.  Van Dam (1997, 204) refers to Stolz (1981, 95) and Press (1966, 229).

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3.2. The Oracles in 1 Samuel 14:37, 40–42 and 1 Samuel 28 The text that details the process of the Urim and Thummim rite is the Septuagint version of 1 Sam 14:40–42. The NRSV follows the Septuagint (v. 41), where the terms Urim and Thummim appear as δήλοι and ὁσιότης (in accusative forms):11 Then Saul said, “O Lord God of Israel, why have you not answered your servant today? If this guilt is in me or in my son Jonathan, O Lord God of Israel, give Urim (δήλους); but if this guilt is in your people Israel, give Thummim (ὁσιότητα).” And Jonathan and Saul were indicated by the lot, but the people were cleared.

Right before this account, v. 37 relates that Saul, through a priest, consulted the deity, a divination usually identified as an Urim and Thummim oracle (see above on consultation of the deity before battle expressed by the term -‫)שאל ב‬.12 The deity, however, does not reply to Saul. Therefore, a second divination is performed (vv. 40–42) in order to reveal who has committed a sin which caused this failure to respond. The method of getting the divine answer is repeated choice between two groups or two persons: one of them is taken by the lot and the other escapes. The majority of scholars and translations follow the Septuagint, deeming the second event also to be an Urim and Thummim ritual.13 (Though the MT of 1 Sam 14:41 makes sense in its present form,14 the Septuagint text is evidence that the MT is the result of homoioteleuton.15 Even if the MT is followed, the UT ritual can reasonably be assumed.) It is evident that the two questions posed by Saul represent two differ­ent types of queries – the first (v. 37) a simple binary, the second (vv. 40–42) a complex binary requiring repeated choice. The second instance is remarkably similar to the rituals depicted in 1 Sam 10:20–21 and Josh 7:14–18 (cf. Jonah 1:7). All these passages relate the search for a certain individual by a lot oracle,16 and ‫“( לכד‬capture, seize, take”) is a key verb in all these 11.  See, e.g., McCarter 1980, 247–48. 12.  As Van Dam (1997, 186) underlines, “The high priest Ahijah was with Saul, and, as the one wearing the ephod (v. 3), he was undoubtedly ‘the priest’ who suggested the inquiry of God (v. 36).” Therefore, “There is general agreement that the inquiry must have been done by means of the high-priestly UT” (cf. Van Dam 1997, 186 n. 29 for studies that share this view). Cf. also, e.g., Bodner 2008, 143. 13.  See Van Dam 1997, 198–200, especially nn. 18, 21, 29. 14.  See Van Dam 1997, 200. 15.  See, e.g., McCarter 1980, 247–48. 16.  See Dommershausen 1973, 996, and also Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992, 107–8. Cf. Judg 1:1 as well.

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texts. Van Dam (1997, 198) concludes from the failure of God to respond to Saul after the first divination that Saul has to resort to a wholly different means of revelation to find the sin that caused the failure. However, I would argue that Saul (v. 38) and his people (v. 40b) do see a message emerging from the first ritual, namely that by failing to answer directly the deity is declaring that someone has committed a sin. Saul also concludes that if he must first find the guilty man, he has received an answer to his question, “Shall I go down after the Philistines? Will you give them into the hand of Israel?” (v. 37) – the divine answer, he thinks, is “No.” Thus it appears that in 1 Sam 14:37 the motif of the deity not responding directly is considered equal to a “no” response by the characters of the story, both Saul and the people. Nor does the narrator indicate that Saul’s view is incorrect. Thus the negative reply to the first question provides the basis for the second query. The two questions, a simple binary one and a complex binary one, represent different types of UT ritual, but not radically so. Rather, the second builds on the first (cf. 1 Sam 10:20–22). Possible Responses to Saul’s Question in the Urim and Thummim Oracle of 1 Samuel 14:37 no no response

yes

Van Dam’s other arguments (1997, 199) against the identification of the second divination as a UT ritual are not compelling. First, he notes that “the verbs nāpal in the Hiphil [cf. 1 Sam 14:41] and lākad in the Niphal are never incontrovertibly used with the high priestly oracle [i.e. UT ritual].” Yet nowhere else is the ritual spelled out in such detail. Moreover, the other key word, ‫“( יצא‬go/come out, escape”), is also a key word in the UT ritual in Num 27:21. Significantly, ‫יצא‬, ‫לכד‬, and ‫ נפל‬all occur as military terms in many texts including Num 27:21; and the UT ritual normally appears in a military context. Second, he claims that because Saul is in charge and the high priest is not mentioned in vv. 40–42, the divination cannot be an UT ritual. However, in v. 37, which is generally assumed to describe an UT ritual, it is Saul and not the priest who formally puts the question to the deity (cf. David in 1 Sam 23:2, 4; 30:8; 2 Sam 2:1; 5:19, 23–24). The next point to be discussed in connection to 1 Sam 14:40–42 is the curse motif that occurs in v. 24, and that is directly related to the oracle in vv. 40–42. In v. 24, Saul puts a curse on whoever eats anything on that day before destroying the enemy. The term applied here is ‫“( ארור‬cursed”). By tasting some honey found in a honeycomb, Jonathan directs this curse

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to himself (vv. 27–28). In the presentation of the narrative, Jonathan’s action is the sin that causes the failure of the first oracle before battle in v. 37. Even Jonathan himself accepts this interpretation of the events – having been found out through a subsequent lot oracle (vv. 40–42), he admits his guilt and he is ready to die (v. 43), although he did severely condemn his father for the curse he had put on the people (v. 29). The people do not dispute either that Jonathan is under the curse (cf. v. 28), but they do set his previous victory gained with God against this guilt, and they ransom him (v. 45). In the Septuagint version of 1 Sam 14:40–42, it is striking that Urim (δήλοι) indicates the person or group taken by the lot as guilty.17 This approach highlights a mental association between Urim and curse: Jonathan is marked by the Urim, because he is cursed. In Hebrew, Urim (‫ )אורים‬and cursed (‫ )ארור‬can be easily associated – though, of course, the similarity in spelling does not necessarily point to any etymological connection. (As has been noted, it cannot be taken for granted that the term Urim occurred in the Hebrew text on which the Septagint version was based.) Putting aside the origin of the term Urim, it is clear that a mental association between Urim and curse was held by those responsible for producing the written text (more precisely, the Septuagint version). Quite a few scholars have adopted the approach of the Septuagint, and have derived Urim from the verb ‫“( ארר‬curse”).18 In the Septuagint version of 1 Sam 14:41, the term ‫ תמים‬is rendered as ὁσιότης, i.e. Thummim,19 and Thummim indicates the party free of guilt. It is a dominant view among scholars that Thummim can be derived from the root ‫תם‬/‫תמם‬, and is to be interpreted as “to be without fault” or “to be complete, finished, perfect(ion),” and the like.20 Urim is often associated with the word ‫אור‬, “(to be) light,” as well.21 Although, as noted above, the MT version of 1 Sam 14:40–42 does not clearly refer to an Urim and Thummim ritual, the point to be made is that even in the MT the lot oracle process evidently contrasts a cursed person with a guiltless party – two opposite groups are to be distinguished in the oracle, a cursed and an unguilty one. It is to be noted that this motif of revealing a cursed, guilty person by the lot oracle appears in two parallel texts, in Josh 7:14–18 and Jonah 1:7. 17.  Cf. n. 11. 18.  See a list of these studies in Van Dam 1997, 95 n. 55. Cf. also, e.g., Fohrer 1969, 72; McCarter 1980, 250; and Jeffers 1996, 210, referring to KBL 1953, 22–23. 19.  It is generally maintained that here the term ὁσιότης refers to the Thummim, but it is worthwhile to note that this is “the only time that the LXX uses hosiotēs to translate tummîm” (Van Dam 1997, 199 n. 21). 20.  See, e.g., Van Dam 1997, 95 n. 55, 132, 136–39; KBL 1953, 1032; and BDB, 1071. 21.  See, e.g., Van Dam 1997, 132–39; and BDB, 22.

114

Heroines, Heroes and Deity The Oracle in 1 Samuel 14:40–42 Jonathan Jonathan is under a curse (cf. vv. 24, 27, 37–44). “cursed,” “guilty” Urim (LXX) Urim (‫“( ארר ← )אורים‬to curse”)

“Aufhellung der Schuld” (Eissfeldt 1968, 272) (‫)אור ← אורים‬ Revealing a cursed, guilty person by the lot oracle: Achan (Josh 7:14–18) Jonah (Jonah 1:7)

the people, Saul “guiltless,” “being without fault” Thummim (LXX) Thummum (‫תמם ← )תמים‬ (usually presumed) “Feststellung der Unschuld” (‫)תמם ← תמים‬

The term “Urim” appears only in the Septuagint version of 1 Sam 14:40–42. Yet, the term is attested elsewhere in the Masoretic text, and notably it also occurs in a context concerning Saul. The verse in question, 1 Sam 28:6, relates that Saul consults the deity (‫ )שאל ביהוה‬before the decisive battle against the Philistines. He attempts to consult YHWH by means of three different forms of divination – dream interpretation, Urim (and Thummim), and prophecy – but he cannot get an answer from the deity. In this desperate situation he resorts to a fourth method, necromancy (1 Sam 28). Although the text presents this practice as “illegal” from the perspective of the Deuteronomistic theology (1 Sam 28:9; cf., e.g., Deut 18:11–12), necromancy proves to be remarkably effective (1 Sam 28:12– 19).22 Most importantly, the text depicts this divinatory method as, albeit prohibited, parallel to the other three oracular techniques, namely dream interpretation, Urim and Thummim, and prophecy. Ezekiel 21:26(21) too evidently regards three different kinds of divination to be parallel methods (shaking the arrows, consulting the teraphim, inspection of livers), with the very essence of all of them being the divine choice between two options (namely, “at the head of the two ways” the Babylonian king consults the deity in order to decide which road to take).23 In the light of the above argumentation that various ancient Near Eastern divinatory practices exhibited strong binary features, it is not surprising, in my view, that different kinds of divination could be handled as parallel techniques. In 1 Sam 28 necromancy “works.” Significantly, the response obtained via 22.  See Lewis 1989, 104–17, and Fischer 2001, 38. 23.  See Jeffers 1996, 158–59, 190–93, 227–28.

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necromancy involves a stark binary means. By means of his necromantic enquiry, Saul finally secures an unfavourable response for himself, his sons, and Israel; at the same time, this represents a favourable response for the Philistines (vv. 15–16, 19). Furthermore, the oracle reveals that what is unfavourable for Saul is favourable for David (v. 17). An issue that needs further discussion is how to evaluate those earlier divinatory attempts of Saul when the deity does not respond to him (‫ולא‬ ‫ )ענהו יהוה‬either by dreams, by Urim and Thummim, or via prophets (1 Sam 28:6). The text itself answers this question: Saul himself specifies in v. 15 the reason why God did not to respond to him – the deity has turned away from him. In other words, the motif that the deity does not answer is equal to an unfavourable answer according to the text. After the first three oracular attempts, the necromancy ritual confirms and literally formulates this unfavourable divine response. I have already discussed another occasion, in 1 Sam 14, where we see the deity’s lack of response to an oracle (]‫ )ולא ענהו [אלהים‬being understood as a negative, “no” response to the question posed by Saul (1 Sam 14:37). This reading of 1 Sam 14:37 and 28:6, 15 may provide a solution to the problem of how we are to place an unanswered oracle within the binary system,24 since this pattern is in fact equivalent to the motif of negative (“no”) or unfavourable reply in these texts. In this respect, it is significant that in many other biblical passages the phrase that “YHWH responds” (‫)ענה יהוה‬ means that the deity answers graciously (cf. 1 Sam 7:9; 1 Kgs 18:37; Hos 2:23–24; 14:9; Isa 41:17; 49:8; Joel 2:19; Pss 3:5; 20:2; 99:6, etc.).25 The motif of a response from the deity usually (albeit not exclusively) suggests a positive, favourable reply.26 On the other hand, no response, when the deity (YHWH) does not respond, seems to equate to a negative answer or even a reference to an actual unfavourable response (cf. Mic 3:4). As for the ancient Near Eastern background of this concept, one may cite, for instance, a recurrent phrase in the Babylonian Oracle Questions: “answer me with a reliable ‘Yes’” (an-na ki-na ap-la-an-ni; cf., e.g., Lambert 2007, 30–31, 100–101, 106–7, 110–11). The diviner definitely asks the deities for an affirmative, positive answer; responding is equal to a positive answer in these texts. This idea appears in the psephomancy 24.  See Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992, 108. 25.  Cf. the interpretation of 1 Sam 14:37 and 28:6, 15 in BDB, 772: the lexicon mentions these verses as examples which illustrate the meaning “of God answering (graciously),” i.e. in these cases God does not answer (graciously) to the questions of Saul. BDB lists several other passages for this meaning of ‫ענה‬. 26.  It is interesting to note that even in English, the verb “answer” is applied in such a sense, while “respond” has a nuance of meaning “to react favourably.”

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ritual (which several scholars consider to be the closest Mesopotamian parallel to the UT rite, as noted above), in which we find the term “there is revelation” used to refer to a positive divine answer, and the phrase “there is no revelation” used to indicate a negative response.27 It is to be stressed that this interpretation of the above-mentioned texts does not imply that the possibility of an inconclusive result – i.e. no answer at all – was excluded in these oracles. What I am arguing is that a possible zeroresponse from the deity was apparently interpreted as a direct negative divine response, a divine refusal. In the light of this, it is interesting to consider the poem which Horowitz and Hurowitz (1992, 108) cited as a text referring to inconclusive results of oracles. From the so-called Poem of the Righteous Sufferer, we read: 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

My god has forsaken me and disappeared, My goddess has failed me and keeps at a distance. The benevolent angel who (walked) beside [me] has departed, My protecting spirit has taken to flight, and is seeking someone else. My strength is gone; my appearance has become gloomy; My dignity has flown away, my protection made off. Fearful omens beset me. I am got of my house and wander outside. The omen organs are confused and inflamed for me every day. The omen of the diviner and dream priest does not explain my condition. What is said in the street portends ill for me. When I lie down at night, my dream is terrifying.28

Here we can observe that the motif of inconclusive results appears in a negative context (cf. ll. 51–52).29 It is portrayed as a sign of divine refusal, actually as equal to a negative, unfavourable response from the deity. Moreover, it is even declared in this text that the deities have actually

27.  Cf. the rendering of Horowitz and Hurowitz 1992, 101: 20 “If (your) judgment is nigh, (and my) plea is accepted 21 (If) Bel, in your heart, there is judg[ment], 22 (If) Shamash, in your heart there is revela[tion], 23 May a stone of desire jump up and may the hands cat[ch (it)]. 24 If (your) judgment is not nigh, (and my) ple[a] is not accepted, 25 (If) Bel, in your heart, there is no judg[ment], 26 (If) Shamash, in your heart, there is no revela[tion], 27 May a stone of no desire jump up and may the hands cat[ch it].” 28.  The translation comes from Lambert 1996, 33, with emphasis added. 29.  Lines 51 and 52 can be read as a reference to inconclusive results of oracles.

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forsaken “the righteous sufferer.”30 This motif corresponds with the one in 1 Sam 28:15, where Saul states that the deity has turned away from him and that is why he cannot get an answer by means of different divinatory rituals. The Oracles in 1 Samuel 28 (║ Ezek 21:26: three different kinds of divination as parallel techniques → shaking the arrows ║ consulting the teraphim ║ hepatoscopy, i.e. liver divination → divine choice between two options) ‫שאל ביהוה‬ dream interpretation ║ Urim and Thummim ritual ║ prophecy ║ necromancy unfavourable favourable no response (response) Saul, his sons and Israel Philistines Saul David Cf. 1 Samuel 14:37 (Possible responses to Saul’s question in the Urim and Thummim oracle) no (unfavourable) no response

yes (favourable) (response)

Cf. also the Table of Concepts Discussed in Chapter 1: Vocabulary of Holiness Sphere of holiness Some notions and terms related to Some notions and terms related to the negative side of holiness the positive side of holiness ‫(ליהוה) חרם‬ ‫(ליהוה) חרם‬ ‫היה ליהוה‬: Judg 11:31 (‫קדש)־קדשים‬ (‫זבח‬/‫טבח‬, meaning “slaughter,” ‫עולה‬: Judg 11:31; ‫ זבח‬and, generally, “sacrifice” in a negative sense) sacrifice in a positive sense (‫אלהים רעה‬/‫רוח יהוה‬: 1 Sam 16:15, 16; ‫רוח־יהוה‬ 19:9, etc.) wrath of YHWH (‫אף‬, ‫קצף‬, etc.) ‫עכר‬: Judg 11:35, 1 Sam 14:29 ‫? אורים‬ ‫? תמים‬ ‫טמא‬ ‫טהר‬ (‫עבר ברית‬: Josh 7:11, 15) ‫ברית‬

30.  See lines 43–46.

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It is also worth noting that Urim and Thummim ritual is closely related to the notion of judgment (‫)משפט‬. In three passages out of the six which directly mention Urim (and Thummim), the term ‫( משפט‬mišpāṭ) appears (Exod 28:30; Num 27:21; Deut 33:8–10, in vv. 8 and 10). This relation suggests that divine judgment manifests itself in the oracle by declaring favourable or unfavourable divine decisions. It seems that before a battle the deity was supposed to reveal his judgment over the two opponents in the oracle: one was to be favoured and win, the other was to be forsaken and lose the battle. In many biblical texts, YHWH appears as judge of the hostile parties or else executes military judgment (e.g. Judg 11:27; 1 Sam 24:13, 16; Isa 34:5; 41:1; 54:17; Joel 4:2, 12; Ps 76:10; 2 Chr 20:12). As Sa-Moon Kang (1989, 14) has noted, “The Mesopotamian kings appealed to their divine warrior to judge their cases of war. Warfare in Mari documents of the eighteenth century was regarded as a judgment of the gods for violation of treaty.” Furthermore, Horowitz and Hurowitz (1992, 107) point out that the above-mentioned psephomancy ritual (a possible Mesopotamian parallel of the Urim and Thummim rite) “uses the verb dânu and the noun dīnu, which correspond with the Hebrew mišpāṭ used of both the Urim and the ḥōšen… Terms for judgment are also commonplace in all types of Mesopotamian divination.” A notable example would be Šamaš bēl dinim (“Šamaš, lord of the judgment), which is a usual introductory formula found in the Babylonian oracle questions.31 In her monograph titled Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria, Ann Jeffers (1996, 237) remarks that “Before embarking on war, leaders generally made efforts to gain religious approval. Therefore inquiries were made and the god’s will ascertained.” The consultation of the deity, besides other rites, was a usual preparatory ritual before waging war, at least in the pre-exilic period (cf. Jer 21:1; 37:7, 17; 38:14; 2 Chr 20:3). As Jeffers (1996, 237) mentions, consultation before battle or war could be performed before the ark (Judg 20:27–28; 1 Sam 14:1832), or by the Urim and Thummim (1 Sam 14:18;33 28:6; 30:7), by a prophet (1 Kgs 22:15), by dream interpretation (Judg 7:13; 1 Sam 28:6), or by necromancy (1 Sam 28:7). Although this study cannot treat the problem of the “holy war” in ancient Israel, it is noteworthy that divination among other preparatory rituals is mentioned and has a significant role in the Israelite “holy war” system sketched by Gerhard von Rad (1991, 42). 31.  See Lambert (2007) throughout. 32.  MT only. The verse may refer to the ephod, as the LXX version reads. In this case it is also a reference to the Urim and Thummim ritual. See McCarter 1980, 237. 33.  LXX only. Cf. n. 32 above.

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Yet, as Manfred Weippert (1972) has convincingly pointed out in my view, the elements of the so-called “holy war” system and the ideology of war were not distinctive features of the Israelite warfare – they were, in fact, common to the ancient world. As W. J. Hamblin (2006, 186) notes, “ancient Near Eastern armies operated in a world in which belief in the supernatural power of the gods was an omnipresent assumption. Battles were fought and won by the will of the gods… Few kings dared go to war without the explicit approval of the gods.” In section 1.1 above, I have discussed some aspects of the religious background of warfare in Israel, trying to place the Urim and Thummim within such a system (see 1.1.3, 1.1.4, and the Table of Concepts Discussed in Chapter 1 above).34 The phrase that probably indicates Urim and Thummim divination is ‫אלהם‬/‫שאל ביהוה‬, i.e. “inquire of YHWH/Elohim” (cf. Judg 1:1; 20:18, 23, 27–28; 1 Sam 10:22; 14:37; 22:10, 13, 15; 23:2, 4; 30:8; 2 Sam 2:1; 5:19, 23–24).35 However, the same verbal form (-‫ )שאל ב‬is also applied in case of other divinatory methods (cf. ‫ שאל בתרפים‬in Ezek 21:26, and ‫ שאל באוב‬in 1 Chr 10:13). Moreover, the same verb also often appears in Mesopotamian divination. As Horowitz and Hurowitz (1992, 107) note, “š’l is a term that applies in Mesopotamian practice not only to psephomancy but to dream interpretation as well as extispicy.” ‫ שאל‬can also express a request in a biblical prayer (Ps 122:6), the offering of someone to God (1 Sam 1:28), and even a curse (Job 31:30). Summing up all this, we can say that the verb ‫ שאל‬can express communication with the deity in various forms. In the foregoing, I have attempted to present the “basic” meaning which the Urim and Thummim divinatory ritual commemorated in certain biblical texts. I have sketched a scheme, a system of concepts, character­ istic of the UT rite as well as various other divinatory rites in ancient Israel and the Near East. The aim was to try to grasp the essential meaning, reference, and interpretation that the Urim and Thummim ritual conveyed. Thus I have endeavoured to place the UT rite within the wider context of ritual coherence, which was, according to Jan Assmann (2007, 87–8), the very essence of the cultural memory before canonized texts and textual coherence became dominant in the ancient world. Yet, as I have tried to show, the impact and presence of the ancient ritual coherence can be traced even in the canonized biblical texts, and the meaning conveyed by the UT ritual still plays a significant part within the context of the biblical texts examined above. 34.  See especially Kamrada (2009, 63–70 n. 49, and the table on p. 85). 35.  See n. 4 above.

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3.3. Saul and David 3.3.1. The Saul Cycle Although the use of Urim and Thummim was apparently only a memory after the exile (cf. Ezra 2:63 and Neh 7:65), this kind of divination appears remarkably often in the stories of Saul and of David. Frederick H. Cryer (1994, 306) summarizes his opinion of the frequent use of the divination motif in the narratives about Saul and David as follows: Old Testament references to divination tend to be used in literary contexts to endow certain figures with divine authority (e.g. Joseph and David), to illustrate Yahweh’s benevolent concern for his chosen leaders (Jacob, David), or, as in the case of Saul (1 Sam 28:6, 15), we have seen that its lack demonstrates the loss or absence of such charisma.

As for Saul, Urim and Thummim and other divinatory rituals are frequently related to his figure. Besides, the verb ‫( שאל‬š’l), which is often used to refer to communication with the deity, especially divination and the UT rite in particular, plays a crucial part in several aspects of his story. These elements join up to form a coherent scheme which comprises the whole life of Saul in 1 Sam 1; 9–11; 13–14; 28 and 31. This scheme, on the other hand, appears to correspond more or less with the various reconstructions of the Saul cycle or History of Saul, an old narrative source of the books of Samuel outlined by many scholars. It is widely accepted that a cycle of Saul legends constituted the basis for the stories in 1 Sam 9–10 and 13–14 (more precisely, one can discover the elements of this cycle in 9:1–10:16; 10:27b– 11:11, 15; 13:2–14:48).36 It is also a prevailing view among histori­cal critics that 1 Sam 1 originally related the legendary birth account of Saul, not Samuel, and that this narrative formed the beginning of the Saul cycle.37 Concerning 1 Sam 28 and 31, W. Lee Humphries (1980) has claimed that the traditions preserved in these chapters pertain to the older layer of the Saul material, i.e. to the Saul cycle.38 Some scholars have argued for the lateness of 1 Sam 28,39 while others have stressed that, since necromancy is depicted as an effective practice in this narrative, this episode was probably a widely known story that the Deuteronomists could not suppress.40 36.  See, e.g., McCarter 1980, 26–27 and White 2006, 119. 37.  For a detailed treatment of this problem, see White 2006, 120–28, especially 121; and see also the next section below. 38.  Cf. Liss 2006, 250. For an excellent overview of scholarship on the compositional history of the books of Samuel, see McCarter 1994; McKenzie 1992. 39.  See, e.g., Cryer 1994, 278. 40.  Lewis 1989, 117.

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As Humphries notes, certain scholars regard the old Saul narratives, the Saul cycle, as a connected material.41 According to my reconstruction, the old material found in 1 Sam 1; 9–11; 13–14; 28 and 31 forms a coherent scheme, a coherent story, the life story of Saul. Why do I seek to emphasize the coherence of this material? My answer is that I think it is especially significant that most scholars hold the view that some old legends and tales served as the basis for the Saul cycle. In other words, they surmise that folk material constituted the core of the Saul cycle. A folk story is always coherent: it has a beginning, a climax, and an end. Therefore, it is a plausible theory that one can discover a coherent scheme, some unified and connected material, that made up a folk legend, the core of the whole Saul cycle. 3.3.1.1. 1 Samuel 1 Right at the beginning of the books of Samuel, in 1 Sam 1, the root ‫שאל‬ (š’l) plays the leading role in the narrative which in its present form relates the miraculous conception, birth, and dedication of Samuel. However, many scholars have claimed that this story originally concerned the birth and dedication of Saul.42 There are seven š’l nouns and verbs in 1 Sam 1, and it is especially convincing that the last, and most emphatic, use of the root š’l reads “he is dedicated to YHWH” (‫ – )הוא שאול ליהוה‬literally: “he is šā’ûl (Saul) to YHWH” (v. 28). This is an unmistakable play on words with the name of Saul. (Even those scholars who are not convinced that this birth account originally concerned Saul admit that the text clearly alludes to him.43) In 1 Sam 1 the root ‫( שאל‬š’l) expresses various forms of communication with the deity. In the presumed original story, Saul is the one who is asked of the deity by his future mother, a barren woman. She takes a vow: if the deity gives her a son, she will dedicate the boy to him (1 Sam 1:11). The woman receives a favourable divine response to her request actually in the form of an oracle (‫ שאלתך‬and ‫ שאלת‬are the key words); the oracle is declared by the high priest Eli (v. 17). Thereafter she conceives a son – the favourable divine oracle comes true (v. 20; here ‫ שאלתיו‬is applied). Then, as a positive human reaction, she fulfils her vow dedicating her son to the deity (v. 28: ‫ ;השאלתהו ליהוה‬it is also stressed in this verse that the deity granted her request: ‫את־שאלתי אשר‬ ‫)שאלתי‬. The whole birth narrative culminates in the reinforced declaration 41.  Cf. McCarter’s hypothesis 1980, 26–27; McCarter discovers a “unified Saul cycle” in the material found in 1 Sam 1 and 9–11. 42.  Ivar Hylander (1932, 11–39) was the first to offer a systematic investigation of this issue. See also Dus 1968; McCarter 1980, 63, 65–66; Brooks 1996, 19–21. 43.  See, e.g., McKenzie 2006, 59; Polzin 1993, 24–26.

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of the mother that she devotes her son to the deity: “he is dedicated to YHWH” (‫)הוא שאול ליהוה‬, i.e. “he is šā’ûl (Saul) to YHWH” (v. 28). All these mutually positive transactions between the woman and the deity are expressed by the root ‫( שאל‬š’l). What is more, the narrative seems to be parallel to the miraculous birth story of Samson. In this connection we note the motifs of the barren woman, birth due to divine intervention, dedication to the deity, and unshorn hair. Therefore, 1 Sam 1 may even have represented the pattern of the origins of the hero, the great warrior, as has been suggested by several scholars.44 For instance, Simcha Shalom Brooks (1996) has systematically compared the figures of Samson and Saul, and has pointed out numerous parallel features. Samson is a great warrior and he is a nāzîr (i.e. “dedicated”) to God in the biblical text (Judg 13:5, 7), but the only sign of his Nazirite state (his dedication) is his unshorn hair (13:5) – in 1 Sam 1 too the sign of the dedication to YHWH is the unshorn hair of the boy (1 Sam 1:11: “no razor shall touch his head”). In Num 6:1–21 the restrictions concerning the Nazirites also include abstention from wine and no contact with a corpse. Samson, however, evidently does not fulfil these criteria: he drinks wine (Judg 14:10) and touches corpses (cf. 14:8–9, and all his exploits in which people are killed). Yet, significantly, Samson is not criticized for these actions in the biblical text – the deity only abandons him at the moment when his hair is cut (16:19–20). As mentioned in section 2.3.7 above, Tony W. Cartledge (1989, 410–13) identifies two different types of Nazirites (the one in Numbers and the other in the Samson narrative), defining Samson as an “early Nazirite,” a charismatic hero who has special connection with God (cf. Amos 2:11, Mayer 1986, 330). Cartledge emphasizes, however, that even these early Nazirites wore their hair unshorn, as a sign of their special status. Eliezer Diamond, as discussed above, can plausibly account for the differences between the description of the Nazirites in Num 6:1–21 and the depiction of Samson (cf. section 2.3.7): Diamond identifies the Nazirite as both an offerer and an offering to the deity (Diamond 1997, 1). Samson differs from the ordinary Nazirites in as much that ever since his conception, he has been offered by his mother. Therefore his mother, the offerer, has to refrain from wine and impurity up until giving birth to Samson, while he, being the offering, is obliged to have never had his hair cut, thus expressing his exceptional relationship to the deity (Diamond 1997, 8–9).

44.  See, e.g., Dus 1968, 170–71; McCarter 1980, 65; Brooks 1996.

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In the light of Diamond’s theory, it is striking that in the Masoretic version of 1 Sam 1, the only sign of the dedication to the deity is the unshorn hair of the boy; the remark in LXXB (cf. 4QSama) that the boy “will not drink wine and strong drink” (v. 11)45 is probably due to a later amplification of the text.46 Moreover, the text of 1 Sam 1 places unusually great stress on the soberness of the future mother. At first, her soberness is severely questioned by the priest, Eli (vv. 13, 14), and the barren woman reacts declaring that she has completely refrained from wine and strong drink (v. 15). Soberness, refraining from wine and strong drink, even seems to have been an inevitable condition for the barren woman to gain a positive divine oracle from the priest and hence a child that is to be dedicated to the deity (cf. vv. 14, 15 and 17). In both 1 Sam 1 and Judg 13, refraining from wine concerns the future mother, and the dedication of her future son to the deity is symbolized by the unshorn hair of the boy. In the case of Samson, these motifs about his birth all contribute to the picture of the chosen hero, the great warrior of the deity, and the same motifs may have similarly functioned in the presumed old legend of Saul. Furthermore, Marcia C. White (2006, 125) has drawn attention to another interesting phenomenon in 1 Sam 1: “Not only there are seven words of the š’l root in Samuel’s birth narrative; there are also seven words of the ntn root, which is the base for Jonathan’s theophoric name.” In the discussion that follows this observation, White provides a thorough literary analysis of this issue, and finally concludes (2006, 126) that “Samuel’s birth narrative does not merely allude to Saul and Jonathan; it is actually all about Saul and Jonathan, with the concluding keyword stress on Saul.” White (2006, 126–27) regards this construction of the birth account as “the first scene of an apologetic history designed to establish Saul’s kingship.” Building on White’s excellent analysis, I would posit an additional conclusion – namely, that the old legend of Saul, the so-called Saul cycle, may have commenced with clear references to Jonathan, since, according to the reconstruction presented below, the ancient cycle was probably all about the fate of Saul and his son Jonathan, the rise and decline of the dynasty of Saul. Saul and his son Jonathan are the main characters of this presumed ancient story – in this scheme, their characters and actions can only be interpreted as interrelated with one another.

45.  See McCarter 1980, 53–54. 46.  See White 2006, 122.

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3.3.1.2. 1 Samuel 9–11 In 1 Sam 9–11 one can discern the next stage of the scheme that narrates the life of Saul with the motif of divination and communication with the deity at its centre. First of all, it is essential to emphasize that, according to the common view, a folktale formed the basis for the story of the lost asses in 1 Sam 9:1–10:16.47 In the story of the lost asses, the figure of Samuel, the anointing scene, and the verses preparing this episode (9:15–17; 10:1), as well as the motif of Saul prophesying among the prophets (10:10–12), have all usually been considered as secondary elements attached to an older narrative.48 In other words, according to this reconstruction, the old folktale has been considerably rewritten. It was probably the case that a local seer (9:11, 18; cf. v. 9), and not Samuel, was the main character of the older story – beside the figure of Saul. (Another denomination of this seer is “man of God” in 9:6, 7, 8, 10.) The lot oracle scene (10:17–27a) is also generally regarded as secondary,49 while the second part of the oracle scene (10:21bβ–24), where Saul is designated as the chosen of YHWH on the basis of his stature, has been taken as an older motif and independent from the lot oracle by several scholars.50 Otto Eissfeldt (1931, 7) was the first to propose this reconstruction.51 It is striking that the whole narrative begins with the statement of Saul’s prominent stature (9:2; 9:1 may have functioned as an introductory formula of the whole cycle, i.e. at the beginning of the birth account in 1 Sam 1).52 In my view, v. 2 is the starting point of the narrative, the key motif, and in the older version all the subsequent scenes point to and culminate in the recognition of the chosen of YHWH as the one who is head and shoulders taller than anyone else (10:23b, 24aβb). A. D. H. Mayes (1983, 100, 167 n. 18) has argued that this recognition scene completes the folktale, and that it refers back to 9:2. According to this proposal, Saul’s prominent stature was a leitmotif in the original narrative, and the folktale would have been rather flat and lacking a proper end without the scene where he 47.  This theory was first proposed by Hugo Gressmann 1910, 26–27. His proposal has been partly revised and, according to the widespread reconstruction, only the beginning of the story (9:1–13) represents the old folktale, and from that point the narrative was rewritten (see Gilmour 2009, 3). See also, e.g., McCarter 1980, 186; Rudman 2000, 519. 48.  See, e.g., McCarter 1980, 186–87; Campbell 2003, 106–9; Gilmour 2009, 3, with references to the literature on this issue. 49.  See McCarter 1980, 194–95. For literature on this theory, see Birch 1976, 42, 120 n. 73; White 2006, 119 n. 4. 50.  See, e.g., Birch 1976, 45; Crüsemann 1978, 54–58. 51.  More precisely, he has argued that the earlier account is found in 10:21bβ–27. 52.  See McCarter 1980, 172. Cf. the discussion of 1 Sam 1 above.

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is recognized as king precisely on the basis of his extremely tall stature (10:21bβ–24). As Hutton (2009, 341) remarks, “a fitting conclusion to the folktale…must be reconstructed,” and “without such an ending, the original narrative would have been anti-climactic and therefore an extremely unlikely entity.” In case of a folktale, an appropriate climax and ending are essential parts of the narrative structure. The short episode about Saul and his uncle in 10:13–16 does not answer these criteria (and there is, in fact, even a suspicion that it is a later addition53). Moreover, the central role of the seer, a diviner, in the original narrative seems to imply a divination of great importance somewhere in the storyline of the original folktale, but only the oracle proclaiming Saul to be the chosen one by his stature fulfils this expectation.54 In addition, in the type-scene of the maiden(s) at the well (9:11–14),55 Saul is directed to a public meeting of “the people” (i.e. ‫ עם‬in vv. 12 and 13, although vv. 13–14 may not have pertained to the folktale56); as such, the reader is prepared to encounter a public proclamation of his chosen state. And yet, this public designation among the people (‫ עם‬again) takes place only in the public oracle scene in 10:21bβ–24. This is all the more striking and emphatic, since the term “people” (‫ )עם‬occurs five times in the short public oracle scene (in 10:23 [×2] and v. 24 [×3]). Furthermore, the emphasized reluctance of Saul at the beginning of the narrative (9:5, 7) harmonizes well with his hiding himself among the baggage in the public oracle scene (10:22). In sum, at least four significant common motifs link the beginning of the folktale in ch. 9 with the public oracle scene in 10:21bβ–24: (1) the prominent stature of Saul; (2) diviner/divination; (3) public gathering; (4) reluctant hero. As a result of all this, it appears logical to surmise that in the original 53.  See, e.g., Miller 1974, 158–59. 54.  The revelation of YHWH in 9:15–16 that commands Samuel to anoint Saul is not a formal oracle and, in my view, it evidently did not form part of the folktale (see above). The lot-oracle scene in 10:17–21bα is generally taken as secondary, as has been mentioned. The other “divinatory remarks” of Samuel in 9:20 and 10:2–6 are not really significant. 55.  For instance, Keith Bodner (2008, 84) has identified this episode as an example of a particular kind of type-scene: the betrothal type-scene of the maiden at the well. Bodner draws attention to the other biblical instances of this type-scene: Gen 24; 29:1–12; Exod 2:16–21, and John 4 in the New Testament. 56.  Bodner (2008, 84) draws attention to the “awkwardness of the maiden’s speech,” “the unpredictable changes in nouns,” and the overall “irregularity” of the Hebrew text here (this irregularity having been pointed out by several other scholars, as Bodner mentions). To my mind, this irregularity may indicate that this episode was considerably rewritten (cf., e.g., Campbell 2003, 107), and I even assume that only 9:11–12 may have belonged to the old folktale.

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folktale/legend this public oracle scene continued the storyline after the episode of the maiden at the well. It is highly questionable, in my opinion, how much (if any) of the material that is presently found between these two scenes belonged to the original folktale or legend.57 It is, unfortunately, beyond the scope of the present study to treat this question further. Most importantly for the present investigation, the old story culminates in the public oracle scene, in a positive divine oracle with the verb š’l (‫ )שאל‬as a leitwort (in 10:22). The leitwort š’l used in divinatory contexts links the reconstructed folktale/legend in 1 Sam 9–11 with the birth narrative in 1 Sam 1. In both texts, divination/communication with the deity expressed by the root š’l (‫ )שאל‬is a central and crucial motif, a leitmotif which, according to the above discussion, also links the two narratives about the two subsequent stages of the life of Saul. In 1 Sam 10:21bβ–24 the divine oracle reveals that Saul is the chosen of YHWH, that he is considered suitable and fit to become the king of Israel – this is the climax of the old folktale/legend. The climactic point is when Saul arises from among the baggage and it becomes apparent that he stands literally head and shoulders above all of the people. The basis of his recognition is his prominent stature. This is a motif typical in the description of warriors, and it is conspicuous that the whole reconstructed Saul cycle concerns the life of a warrior king.58 It is even a quite plausible proposal that the entire cycle may have commenced with the remark in

57.  Many reconstructions of the later additions and that of the earlier folktale have been proposed. See, e.g., Miller 1974, 158–59; Van Seters 1983, 255. 58.  It is also interesting to note that the motif of “head and shoulders taller than all his people” later appears with reference to certain great warrior kings of the Middle Ages. As Tuck (1999, 1, 301 n. 1, referring to Rothwell 1957, 213) observes, “The chronicle Walter of Guisborough wrote of Edward I at the time of his accession that he was ‘handsome, tall and elegant, standing head and shoulders above ordinary people, and young of age, not yet having completed his thirtieth year’.” Due to his legendary great height and stature, the English king Edward I (1272–1307) was nicknamed “Longshanks”; he was a famous warrior king, conqueror of Wales, and also known as the “Hammer of the Scots.” Furthermore, the great warrior king of Hungary, László I (1077–1095), was also renowned for his impressive stature, and it is notable that the legend about him describing his immense height uses a similar phrase to the biblical text: “he stood head above the rest of the people” (see Dümmerth 1987, 293–94). László I was also canonized a saint. The most well-known example of this phenomenon may be the tradition that Charlemagne was a remarkably tall man among his contemporaries. According to Eginhard, who was Charlemagne’s personal secretary, “His body was large and strong; his stature tall but not ungainly, for the measure of his height was seven times the length of his own feet” (Grant 2005, 37).

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9:1 that the father of Saul was a gibbôr ḥayil (‫)גבור חיל‬.59 While other meanings are possible, this phrase usually refers to a warrior, a “mighty man of valour,” and, remarkably, it describes Gideon and Jephthah in Judg 6:12 and 11:1, respectively. It is also striking that in 2 Sam 1:19–27, David sings a lament for Saul and his son Jonathan – a summary of their lives, as it were – in which the two deceased characters are depicted as absolutely typical warriors, heroes, the representatives of the archetypal gibbôrîm (‫ ;גבורים‬cf. 2 Sam 1:19, 21, 22, 25, 27). At the beginning of the presumed Saul-cycle, in 1 Sam 1, one can discover various references to the names of both Saul and Jonathan, as has been mentioned. The term ‫ גבורים‬denotes various kinds of powerful men, and it is noteworthy that certain types of ‫ גבורים‬and the so-called Nephilim, Rephaim, Anakim, and the like are repeatedly identified or associated with one another (Coxon 1999a, 1999b; Rouillard 1999; see Gen 6:4; Num 13:33; Deut 2:11, 20; cf. Ezek 32:27 with Ps 88:11 and Isa 14:9). All these denominations serve to indicate excellent warriors, and partly the ancient inhabitants of Palestine or the spirits of the dead/fallen warriors, kings. Significantly, they are often defined as giant heroes. It is a distinctive feature of these figures that they are extremely tall; indeed, for instance, the term Nephilim – who are directly identified with a certain type of ‫ גבורים‬in Gen 6:4 – is usually rendered as “giants.”60 Another motif of the reconstructed folktale/legend is worth discussing: the motif of the “reluctant hero.” Saul evidently proves to be reluctant when, at first, he intends to return home instead of seeking the advice of the seer (1 Sam 9:5, 7), and when he hides himself among the baggage (10:22). Moreover, the basic storyline reads that a young, good-looking hero of prominent height seeks lost asses but finds a kingdom instead. This storyline itself and the additional elements clearly outlines the picture of a hero who, although suitable for the highest position, is of modest ambition, and, besides his natural suitability, this modesty is precisely the feature that makes him eligible to be a proper king. Since this investigation focuses on a folktale/legend, it is worth mentioning that the initial reluctance of the hero is an essential part of the myth structure sketched by Joseph Campbell in his influential book The Hero with a Thousand Faces ([1949] 2008).61 The reluctant hero who hides himself and has to be found is a popular character

59.  Cf. n. 52 above. See also McCarter 1980, 173. 60.  For other examples of such extremely tall, giant heroes, see Deut 2:10, 21; 3:11; and cf. 1 Sam 17:4–7 with 2 Sam 21:16, 19, 20, 22. 61.  On his system, see also Bowie 2006, 285, 287.

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in folktales. This figure is a representative of the so-called Unpromising hero/ male Cinderella (L101 in the Thompson’s Motif-Index of Folk-Literature; cf. also L200: Modesty brings reward). A well-known example of this “male Cinderella” figure concealing himself and being recovered is the attractive young hero of the German folktale entitled Der Eisenhans (Iron John – No. 136 in the collection of the Grimm brothers; see Ralston 1988, 46, 56). At the climax of this type of folktale, the “Unpromising hero/male Cinderella” is not only discovered, but he is also recognized to be a great hero possessing significant heroic characteristics. Similar to many other folktale heroes, the Unpromising hero/male Cinderella often obtains a kingdom. This, notably, is precisely what we find at the end of the Saul narrative. Furthermore, it is only natural that the Unpromising hero/male Cinderella finally gains a wife in many folktale versions (cf. Der Eisenhans itself). Yet Saul does not seem to gain a wife in the present biblical story. However, the type-scene of the maiden at the well (1 Sam 9:11–13), which has been mentioned above, is also termed a betrothal type-scene, since in most biblical examples the encounter with the girl results in a betrothal (cf. Gen 24; 29:1–12, and Exod 2:16–21; in John 4 the ancient pattern is re-interpreted in a messianistic context). Still, Saul’s encounter with the maiden(s) ends abruptly; the “natural consequences” do not follow the usual beginning. As Bodner (2008, 85) notes, “Instead of a nice relationship with a fair maiden, Saul instead gets the prophet Samuel. Consequently, this has been labeled as ‘an aborted type-scene’.” The suspicion arises that in the original folktale/legend the type-scene was not “aborted,” and Saul got a wife in due course, probably as a result of his recognition, as is usual in the folktale pattern of the Unpromising hero/male Cinderella. Significantly, as has been mentioned, the figure of Samuel was probably added later to the original story, and I have even argued above that it seems to be a plausible surmise that in the original folktale/legend the public oracle scene (10:21bβ–24) continued the storyline after the episode of the maiden at the well (9:11–12). Therefore, it cannot be excluded that in the folktale/legend the public oracle scene included the logical and natural conclusion of the episode of the maiden at well – namely, that the recognition of the great hero, Saul, involved the motif of his gaining a fair maiden for a wife as well as his gaining a kingdom. The folktale/legend was considerably rewritten: the figure of Samuel and possibly much other material was inserted between the type-scene of the maiden at the well and the public oracle scene. The objective of the rewritten version was to bring Samuel and the anointing scene into focus. Due to the extensive insertions and shift of focus, the marriage motif, the conclusion of the type-scene of the maiden at the

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well, was possibly eliminated from the public oracle scene, and thus from the entire story, although the connection between the type-scene and the public oracle scene is still apparent (see above). This proposal may provide a plausible answer to the question why the type-scene of the maiden at the well is “aborted,” why it ends so abruptly. The motif of the “reluctant hero” appears in a very well-known story: the legends about Cincinnatus describe him as a typical reluctant hero who is famous for his modesty and lack of high ambition (Livy, Ab urbe condita 3.26–29). The most famous scene of his life is the legendary account relating that Cincinnatus is summoned from the plough to take up the office of dictator in a time of need, when his people is severely threatened by the enemy (3.26). This motif strikingly resembles the one that narrates how Saul gets involved in the war against the Ammonites who threaten Jabesh-gilead: Saul is, strikingly, also said to have been summoned from the plough. Saul is described as “coming in behind the oxen from the field” (1 Sam 11:5), and he becomes a commander in chief, the military leader of his people against the Ammonites (11:5–11). These two “call narratives” and others – notably that of Elisha (1 Kgs 19:19–21) and of Gideon (Judg 6:11–25) – have been often compared, and several scholars have argued that these stories represent the theme of the “calling of the countryman” (see, e.g., Soggin 1989, 247; Bultmann 1995, 25). Moreover, the three narratives about Gideon, Saul, and Cincinnatus are all set in a military context. What is more, Gideon is a deliverer of Israel in the book of Judges, and it is widely recognized that the account about Saul’s deliverance of Jabesh-gilead represents the same type of narrative as the military saviour stories in Judges.62 Gideon, Saul, and Cincinnatus can all be defined not only as great warriors, but also as typical reluctant heroes (as for Gideon, cf. Judg 6:11–24, 36–40); and in the cases of Gideon and Cincinnatus the motif of reluctance/modesty is directly related to the theme of the “calling of the countryman.” One may conclude from all this that in the case of Saul, the motif of the reluctant hero in 1 Sam 9–10 (note especially his hiding himself among the baggage) harmonizes extremely well with the theme of the “calling of the countryman” to a military mission in 1 Sam 11:5–11. The latter motif in ch. 11 logically complements the former one in chs. 9–10. Diana Edelman has drawn attention to another interesting phenomenon that also forms a connection between chs. 9–10 with ch. 11. Edelman notes:

62.  See, e.g., McCarter 1980, 205–6.

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From comparative ancient Near Eastern material and intra-biblical evidence, it can be seen that Israel shared with its ancient neighbors a three-part kingship installation ritual. The three main elements of the ritual included the designation of the candidate, his testing as a worthy candidate through his performance of a military deed, and his subsequent coronation as king upon successful completion of the testing. (Edelman 1990, 210)

Since this three-part installation ritual seems to be a well-known ancient Near Eastern motif, it may well have appeared in the old legend of Saul. The designation of Saul takes place in the public oracle scene (10:21bβ–24) that also includes the motif of the recognition of the reluctant/modest hero. Saul successfully passes the military test when he rescues Jabesh-gilead in 11:1–11, and he is summoned, as a simple countryman, to leave his oxen to engage in battle – the basically modest, “reluctant hero” is aroused to fight. Finally, Saul is confirmed as king in Gilgal (11:15). The coronation motif concludes the three-part scheme outlined by Edelman.63 From the above discussion, it follows that it is not at all necessary to assume that the material in 1 Sam 9–11 is based on a collection of loosely related legends.64 I argue that several common motifs and a definite storyline can be discerned throughout chs. 9–11, even at the level of the presumed old legendary version of the story. In the foregoing, I have attempted to discover the elements of the old folktale/legend of Saul in 1 Sam 9–11. To my mind, these interrelated elements seem to form a coherent narrative – the story of the young “reluctant hero” who, at first, conceals himself and who is recovered, recognized and designated as an absolutely suitable candidate and elect of YHWH for kingship. Subsequently, the “reluctant hero,” the modest countryman, is summoned from his plain rural work to fight, whereupon he has to prove his capability as a warrior and military leader of his people. As a result of his successful testing, his coronation as king concludes the folktale/legendary account of Saul’s rise to power. (Cf. 1 Sam 9:2–8, 10–12; 10:21bβ–24; 11:1–11, 15.) The “reluctant hero” is recognized by means of a divine oracle, and this public oracle scene is set in the very centre of the story (10:21bβ–24). This is the climax of the narrative in chs. 9–11 when the divine will is revealed and the “reluctant hero” reveals his heroic characteristic standing head and shoulders above all the people.

63.  It is not be noted that while Edelman treated the entire narrative as a whole (1990, 211), I have focused exclusively on the presumed old legend. 64.  See, e.g., McCarter 1980, 207.

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At this crucial point of the story, the recognition, the divine revelation, is realized in an oracle, and the consultation of the deity is expressed precisely by the verb š’l (‫ )שאל‬in 10:22. This motif, found at the centre of the narrative, connects the story in chs. 9–11 with the presumed birth narrative of Saul in 1 Sam 1. In both texts, divination/communication with the deity expressed by the root š’l (‫ )שאל‬is a central and crucial motif, a leitmotif which also links the two narratives about the two subsequent stages of the life of Saul. In 1 Sam 1, the root š’l (‫ )שאל‬plays an even more crucial role – in several instance of word-play it refers to the name of the main character, Saul. I share the view of several scholars that 1 Sam 1, including a probable Nazirite motif, relates the birth account of a future hero, a great warrior, and the next stage of his life is narrated in chs. 9–11, where the “reluctant hero” reveals his excellent heroic feature and proves to be a capable warrior king. It is also worth mentioning that the remarkable parallels between the presentations of Samson and Saul, which can easily be discerned by a comparison of 1 Sam 1 and Judg 13 (see above), continue here in 1 Sam 11. First of all, Saul is portrayed exactly like a warrior judge; he, like Samson and the other warrior judges, is inspired by the divine spirit to defeat his enemies (1 Sam 11:6; cf. Judg 13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14). In addition, the divine inspiration is accompanied by some heroic fervour, great anger, this phenomenon being expressed by the very same terms (‫ )ויחר אפו‬in both cases – Samson is “in hot anger” when the spirit of YHWH rushes on him (Judg 14:19), and Saul’s “anger is greatly kindled” under the influence of the divine spirit (1 Sam 11:6). Moreover, both Samson and Saul perform some very bizarre yet strangely similar feats at the height of their heroic fervour: when the divine spirit rushes on them, Samson “tears the lion apart barehanded” (Judg 14:6), and Saul “takes a yoke of oxen and cuts them in pieces” (1 Sam 11:7). Both Samson and Saul represent the type of the exceptionally prominent hero, a figure notable for his especially close relationship with the deity (cf. the motif of Nazirite), and who physically excels over all the people, even over all the other heroes. Samson and Saul both fall and suffer heroic deaths, though the greatest difference between their presentations is that Samson fulfils his heroic mission as his life comes to an end. Samson restores his relationship and offers his life to the deity, while Saul’s downfall is absolutely final – his connection to the deity is irrevocably broken.65

65.  For a systematic comparison of the two biblical heroes, see Brooks 1996.

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3.3.1.3. 1 Samuel 13–14 Turning now to the next phase of the above-outlined scheme that comprises the Saul cycle – 1 Sam 13–14, the Michmash battle – we note that 13:2–7, 15b–23 relate preparatory events.66 Jonathan makes his first appearance in v. 2, although, as we have noted, Marcia C. White has argued that Jonathan is alluded to several times at the outset of the overall narrative, in 1 Sam 1. It is remarkable that right at the presumed beginning of the Saul cycle, Jonathan’s name is repeatedly mentioned alongside that of his father – we might say that the entire cycle related not only the story of Saul, but also that of his would-be heir, Jonathan, and thus that of the dynasty of Saul.67 Immediately, in 1 Sam 13:3, Jonathan directs attention to himself with an act of rebellion against the Philistines. It is a matter of debate among scholars whether Jonathan assassinates68 the Philistine governor or defeats a Philistine garrison (‫נציב‬...‫ ;)ויך‬even the location is a matter of debate – it might be either Gibeah or Geba.69 Nevertheless, the very strong term applied here, ‫( נבאש‬v. 4), indicates that something extremely shocking occurred as a result of which Israel “made themselves odious to the Philistines” (literally “made themselves smell badly,” cf. the abominable deed of Absalom in 2 Sam 16:21). This reference to an outrageous act probably depicts a sudden guerrilla attack: the assassination of a Philistine prefect by Jonathan, something in the manner of Ehud in Judg 3:19–23 – the more plausible explanation, in my view – or else the slaughter of the Philistine garrison (note that the Philistines did not know of the intention of Jonathan). Whatever the case may be, Jonathan definitely did not declare war on the Philistines before the attack (see 1 Sam 13:3aβ, and cf. his exploits undertaken without the knowledge of his father and even of their army in 1 Sam 14:1–14). Although it has been proposed that Jonathan may have acted on the orders of Saul when attacking the Philistine prefect/garrison70 (cf. 13.4aα: after the attack, when mobilizing the army, Saul attributes the act to himself), the text clearly states that

66.  The introductory remark about Saul’s reign in 13:1 is probably a Deuteronomistic insertion; see, e.g., White 2006, 119. Similarly, vv. 8–15a likely represent another insertion into the old legend; see, e.g., Isser 2003, 119. 67.  The account of the short, unsuccessful reign of Ishbaal, son of Saul, was apparently not included in the Saul cycle; cf. 2 Sam 2–4. It is notable that the name of “Ishbaal” is not attested in the chapters that comprise the old Saul cycle. 68.  See McCarter 1980, 224, 230. 69.  On both issues, see, e.g., Polzin 1993, 126. 70.  See Smith 2000, 174.

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Jonathan slays/defeats the Philistine prefect/garrison (13:3). Jonathan takes the initiative here – he is actually the one who instigates the long war between the Philistines and Israel that finally results in the destruction of Saul and his dynasty. In ch. 14, divination is evidently a crucial and essential motif. Right before the battle Saul sits under a pomegranate tree on the threshing floor; the troops are with him, and a priest with the ephod is at hand (vv. 2–3). According to the reading of P. Kyle McCarter (1980, 238–39), who compares the text to 1 Kgs 22:10, Saul is apparently just about to consult the deity before the battle. McCarter points to the fact that “the picture of the ruler sitting on the threshing floor at the gate of a city is age-old.” In particular, McCarter (1980, 239) refers to a depiction of the Canaanite hero Danel in the Aqht epic (CTCA 17.5.4–8; 19.1.19–25).71 Another parallel is the portrayal of Deborah sitting under her palm tree in Judg 4:5. In the latter two instances, Danel and Deborah literally sit in judgment of some cases. In the Aqht epic, however, “the threshing floor is [also] a place of theophany (CTCA 17.5.4ff) and (apparently) divination (19.1.19ff),” as McCarter (1980, 239) remarks. In 1 Kgs 22:10 and in 1 Sam 14:2–3, the two kings as well as Saul sit (with all due ceremony, the two kings on thrones) on the threshing floor at the gate of Samaria, and under a pomegranate tree respectively; both texts describe the preparations for a divination before war or a battle. In 1 Kgs 22:11, the divination is performed by prophets. As for Saul, he has a priest with the ephod at hand (1 Sam 14:3a), but the reference to Ahijah, “the priest of YHWH at Shiloh,” is probably a later insertion into the Saul cycle.72 Nevertheless, a priest is certainly with Saul before the battle (cf. 14:19), and the whole scene depicted in v. 2 indicates that Saul intends to consult the deity before the battle. As has been discussed above, divination was an important preparatory ritual before waging war or engaging in a battle.

71.  CTCA is the abbreviation for Corpus des tablettes en cunéiformes alpha­bétiques, ed. Andrée Herdner: Mission de Ras Shamra, Tome X. Paris: Impremerie Nationale, 1963. 72.  The long specification of Ahijah’s origins and status communicates a clear allusion to 1 Sam 4 (see Bodner 2008, 132); consequently, in all probability, it did not belong to the original Saul cycle. 1 Samuel 4 is usually understood to belong to the Eli narratives and the so-called Ark Narrative. These narratives may either be considered to be separate traditions, or they may be taken as forming one complex text. Whatever the case may be, ch. 4 certainly did not belong to the Saul cycle, if one accepts that such a cycle existed. For a good summary of scholarship on the Eli narratives and the Ark Narrative, see Eynikel 2000.

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While Saul is ready to fulfil his duty, Jonathan disappears; he wants to challenge the Philistines on his own (1 Sam 14:1). In view of his entrance, the assassination of the Philistine governor (13:3), it is not at all surprising that Jonathan wants to take the initiative. Again, he is the one who sets the plot in motion. That Jonathan is missing is much emphasized, being repeated three times in the text: in 14:1 it is even stressed that he is missing without his father’s knowledge and consent; in v. 3b it is stated that “the army did not know that Jonathan had gone”; and in v. 17 it finally turns out that he and his weapon-bearer are not there. In v. 17 we read that Saul, having seen the uproar in the Philistine camp, holds a review and Jonathan proves to be missing (vv. 16–17). This scene especially underlines that Jonathan has committed a serious breach of military discipline: without the consent of the commander and the consultation of the deity he has engaged in single combat. The motif of the divine sign in vv. 6–10, which seems to be the theological justification of his exploits, may well be a later insertion, as the orthographic variation pointed out by Anthony Campbell (2003, 145) perhaps indicates: “In vv. 6–10, Jonathan’s name is spelled in a fuller form, yĕhônātān, found otherwise only in 1 Sam 18–20 and 2 Samuel.” As such, we note that the fuller form of Jonathan’s name occurs in texts that describe the relationship between Jonathan and David as a strong, friendly bond – a motif that certainly did not belong to the Saul cycle. On the other hand, the main part of the narrative of Michmash battle (1 Sam 13–14) is generally regarded as an old legend that pertained to the Saul cycle. Diana Edelman (1990, 211) has even pointed out that in 1 Sam 13–14 Jonathan is put to the same kind of testing as the one Saul is subjected to in chs. 9–11. Both narratives seem to represent the same legendary motif, the aforementioned three-part kingship installation ritual, a well-known pattern in the ancient Near East. Moreover, the legend of Jonathan’s testing strikingly resembles a Roman legend (Livy, Ab urbe condita 8.7). Before a battle, the son of Titus Manlius Torquatus is provoked by enemy soldiers to engage in individual combat, against the command of his father, the consul. Although the son is successful in his exploit, the father has him executed because of the breach of military discipline. Without the assumed theological justification – the motif of the divine sign in 1 Sam 14:6–10 – the story of Jonathan’s exploit merely narrates that the provocative words of the enemy roused the fierce and energetic young hero, Jonathan, to fight them on his own (cf. 14:11–12). Precisely the same motif is applied in the Roman story: the provocative remarks of the enemy compel the son of the consul to duel (Livy 8.7.4, 7). Additionally, both young heroes are said to be far away from the main

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body of their armies, and, naturally, close to the enemy forces in the moment when they are challenged to duel (cf. 1 Sam 14:1, 4–5, 11 and Livy 8.7.1). Both stories appear to represent the same legendary motif – namely, the (military) testing of the young hero, the potential future king/ leader (this motif was identified by Edelman in 1 Sam 13–14).73 In the legendary account of Jonathan’s exploit, the repeated statements with regard to his absence constitute a framework (cf. 1 Sam 14:1, 3, and v. 17). This is evidently a highly emphasized leitmotif of the account. That his behaviour is highly irregular is all the more apparent, since he acts not just without the consent of his commander (v. 1), but also without the awareness of the army (v. 3). As such, Jonathan acts against the normal rules, the generally accepted code of warcraft. Jonathan actually offends the rule of military obedience at the very moment he deserts his post without the consent of his commander in order to seek adventure (14:1). The verb applied here, ‫“( עבר‬pass”), not only refers to the Michmash pass (‫)מעבר מכמש‬, but also suggests that Jonathan is definitely determined to fight on his own, since in a military context this verb expresses the actual act of waging war or engaging in battle (cf. Judg 11:29, 32; 12:1; Josh 10:29). Significantly, this verb can also convey the meaning of “overstepping, transgressing” a (usually divine) covenant or command (cf. especially Josh 7:11, 15, and 1 Sam 15:24 – though these texts were edited by Deuteronomistic redactors, see below). Even in the passage about the divine sign – 14:6–10, a later insertion, as seen above – the reader is offered only Jonathan’s perspective: it is his will to engage in combat (cf. v. 7); he does not seek the divine will by a normal oracle, nor even addresses the deity (in contrast with, e.g., Gideon in Judg 6:17, 36, 39). It is absolutely evident that no matter which of the two options mentioned by Jonathan gets realized, he engages in combat with the Philistines in either case. In the Roman legend too, the serious breach of military discipline forms the leitmotif of the story; this offence has extremely grave consequences (Livy 8.7.16–19). That military discipline and obedience is the very essence of warcraft is a universally accepted idea in various cultures up to the present day. Although most commentators concentrate on the positive characteristics of Jonathan, Orly Keren has drawn attention to the dark side of Jonathan’s personality (Keren 2008). The negative interpretation of Jonathan’s exploit is also supported by the following parallel episode of Jonathan’s sacrilege (1 Sam 14:23b–46). For instance, Joseph Blenkinsopp 73.  Cf. H1561. Tests of valour, H1561.2. Single combat to prove valour, H1567. Test of leadership in the Motif-Index of Folk-Literature by S. Thompson.

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(1964) has compared Jonathan’s sacrilege to the story of the Fall in Gen 2–3. Blenkinsopp points to a remarkable structural parallel between the two narratives (prohibition of eating, condemnation of the offender, etc.). According to the usual, widely accepted interpretation, Jonathan alone does not hear the curse Saul has imposed on the people (cf. the rendering of 14:27 e.g. in NRSV). However, the term applied here that describes Jonathan’s behaviour is not merely ‫שמע‬, i.e. “to hear,” but ‫שמע ב‬, a wording that gives rise to the suspicion that Jonathan actually does not listen to the command of his father.74 It seems that he neglects the oath that his father has taken concerning the entire army (in 1 Sam 14:24 Saul puts a curse on whoever eats anything on that day before destroying the enemy). Jonathan in fact disobeys his commander again. This motif of his disobedience is a complete parallel to his offence against the rule of obedience in the preceding episode of his exploit. Diana Edelman (1990, 211) interprets the story about Jonathan’s sacrilege as the second stage of the three-part kingship ritual, i.e. the testing of the candidate (see above). The question arises as to what kind of test he has to pass. In view of the above discussion, I would define the testing of Jonathan as an example of the folk motifs, H1557 Tests of obedience, and H1567.1.1 Test of leadership (obedience). Remarkably, within the former category of motifs, one of the first patterns directly refers to the story of the Fall in Genesis: H1557.2 Adam’s (Eve’s) disobedience blamed: blamer immediately disobeys orders (see the Motif-Index of Folk-Literature). On the other hand, the set of motifs found in the story about Jonathan’s sacrilege corresponds in many respects with the motifs in a story of the Samson cycle (Judg 14:5–9; eating honey [cf. the motif of honey/wild honey as a kind of “heroic food”],75 not telling his

74.  ‫ שמע‬can be used with various prepositions – ‫ב‬, ‫ל‬, ‫אל‬, ‫ – על‬to express a variety of meanings: “listen to,” “yield to,” “obey,” “hear and answer”; cf. ‫לקול‬/‫שמע בקול‬, i.e. “listen to/obey the word of” (e.g. Gen 3:17; 1 Sam 8:7; Deut 4:30; Jer 3:13). Moreover, the verb ‫ שמע‬used simply with an object can mean “listen to” (e.g. Num 12:6; Isa 28:33; Amos 4:1). For further discussion, see Green 2003, 244. 75.  In the Bible, wild honey is presented as the favourite food of certain prophets, of heroes, and warriors who share some wild characteristics (cf. the aforementioned cases of Samson and Jonathan, and the diet of John the Baptist in Matt 3:4; see Mobley 2006, 17, 45, and Broshi 2001, 137). Interestingly, Homeric heroes and warriors drink a liquor having honey as one of its ingredients (cf. Iliad 11.630f.). Furthermore, before a battle Achilles is fed with nectar and ambrosia (Iliad 19.352–54), which are considered to be forms of honey by certain scholars (see, e.g., Roscher 1883; Ransome [1937] 2004, 136 referring to Porphyry, De antro nympharum 16).

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father/parents of his venture/adventure).76 It is all the more interesting, since the figure of Samson and that of Saul can also be compared to one another (see the discussion of 1 Sam 1 above).77 Consequently, the episode about Jonathan’s sacrilege may resemble the story of the Fall and the adventure of Samson in Judg 14:5–9, respectively, on the basis of similar/identical folk motifs. (As such Gen 2–3 and 1 Sam 14:23b–46 do not necessarily have a direct literary connection with each other [Yahwistic literature, Judean origin] as J. Blenkinsopp [1964] has argued.) Nevertheless, both the story of the Fall and the account about Jonathan’s sacrilege do seem to share the motif of “test of obedience,” and in both cases the main characters fail their respective tests – specifically, they disobey the command (cf. also H1557.1 Obedience of sons tested by offering them an apple…youngest obeys and receives kingdom as reward). Additionally, the story about Jonathan’s sacrilege provides an example of the motif H1567.1.1 Test of leadership (obedience). This classification of the narrative corresponds with Diana Edelman’s view that the story represents the second stage of the three-part regnal pattern, i.e. the testing of the future leader, the future king. As she (1990, 211) puts it, Jonathan evidently fails in the test of kingship/leadership. I would add that he fails in the test due to his disobedient attitude. That is why, according to the narrative scheme, he never succeeds his father as king. All in all, the disobedience of Jonathan appears to be a leitmotif in 1 Sam 13–14. I would argue that in both the story of his exploits and that of his sacrilege, the motif of disobedience is absolutely central to the structure of the narratives. One may recall the preceding legendary story of the “reluctant hero,” Saul, in 1 Sam 9–11: apparently, the motif of the fierce, aggressive disobedience of Jonathan is in sharp contrast to the pattern of the modest “reluctant hero,” Saul, whose “modesty brings reward” (L200 in the Motif-Index of Folk-Literature). Saul, the modest hero, indeed gained his reward – he became a king (the modest hero was finally incited to fight, but he used his energy to assemble an army in 11:6–8). Yet Jonathan, the fierce, disobedient young hero, fails in the test of obedience and leadership; he never becomes a king. Although Jonathan is an excellent warrior when it comes to deeds of individual heroism (cf. his probable assassination of the Philistine governor in 1 Sam 13:3aα, and his individual exploit in ch. 14), he is nowhere depicted as a potent 76.  See, e.g., Miscall 1986, 94; cf. also the motif of the brightening eyes of Jonathan in 1 Sam 14:27, 29, and the pattern of seeing and that of the eyes of Samson in Judg 14:1, 2; 16:1, and in 14:3, 7; 16:21, 28. 77.  See Miscall 1986, 94.

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leader who is capable of mobilizing an entire army as his father did at the beginning of his career (11:5–8) and even after the assassination/slaughter of the Philistine prefect/garrison (13:3b–4). Saul successfully passed the test of leadership/kingship in 11:5–11, and his coronation fulfilled the three-part kingship installation ritual; Jonathan, however, fails the test. On the basis of this, I would maintain that in the old Saul cycle this sharp contrast between the depiction of the young modest Saul and that of the young disobedient Jonathan played a crucial, central role within the construction of the entire legend. The marked difference between the characterization of the young Saul and that of the young Jonathan indicates the turning-point in the narrative structure of the old Saul cycle. Saul’s career reaches its zenith when he stands head and shoulders above all the people, and he proves his heroism as well as his capability as a leader in chs. 9–11. From the point at which Jonathan appears on the scene in chs. 13–14, however, events take a turn for the worse, as Saul becomes embroiled in the turmoil that the behaviour of Jonathan incites. The rebellion provoked by Jonathan is without doubt the starting point for the subsequent disasters. Interestingly, Saul reacts rather strangely to the hasty act of Jonathan. Given the circumstances, the mobilization of the army is necessary and inevitable; Saul properly does his duty (13:3b–4). Yet he does more – he also attributes the fierce deed of Jonathan to himself (vv. 3b–4aα). I would venture that this presentation of the reaction of Saul was aimed at establishing the tension, the rivalry, between the two main characters – the two heroes in the old Saul cycle. Saul is the commander but Jonathan is also a vice-commander. On the one hand, Saul wants to keep his authority and absolute control over the army, while on the other hand, he wants to benefit from the deed(s) of his vice commander (in the present text it has not yet been mentioned that Jonathan is his son). Being a young, energetic hero, Jonathan wants to prove his heroism, his bravery at all costs – even if that involves disobedience. Indeed, Jonathan’s every action, all his enterprises throughout the story, display a kind of rebellion against rules, against command, against his father. The theme of the conflict between a young and a senior hero is one of the most basic and frequently attested patterns in heroic legends and epics: the young hero is more agile, fierce, and powerful, an exceptional warrior – even more heroic, we might imagine, than the senior hero. By contrast, the senior hero is usually wiser, a capable leader, even the commander-in-chief.78 78.  Cf. the conflict between Achilles and Agamemnon, which serves as a basis and key motif in the Iliad. In the previously mentioned Roman legend that strikingly resembles the storyline of 1 Sam 14, Livy’s Ab urbe condita, the conflict between the young, brave,

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In 1 Sam 13–14, the tension between the two heroes will not be resolved by the end of the story. The disobedience of Jonathan merely serves as a starting point, and Saul becomes utterly mired in the upheaval. He cannot control the situation, even though he is the commander. In 1 Sam 1 and 9–11, as has been discussed, communication with the deity expressed mainly by oracles is the basic and essential motif of the old Saul cycle. The confusion caused by the fierce and disobedient behaviour of Jonathan and the rivalry between the two heroes begins to disturb the communication with the deity. This kind of dissonance is echoed in the sections which were probably composed later and inserted into and after the narrative of chs. 13–14. In both 13:8–15a79 and ch. 1580 the leitmotif is the utmost importance of obeying the divine will and command; notably, these episodes relate Saul’s offence against this principle.81 In fact, both stories recount a test of obedience. It is here that we see Saul fail the tests of obedience – a stark contrast with his earlier good relationship, communication with the deity. It is striking that 1 Sam 15 makes repeated use of the very same term used to describe Jonathan’s disobedience in 14:27 – )‫( שמע (ב‬15:19, 20, 22, 23;82 cf. the discussion about 14:27 above). It is apparent that 1 Sam 15 places extremely great emphasis on this phrase, and thus on the theme of obedience (cf. especially the last well-known instance in 15:23: “obedience is better than sacrifice,” ‫)הנה שמע מזבח טוב‬. In view of the identical phrases, we can gain clear insight into how the Deuteronomistic authors/redactors of 1 Sam 15 evaluated the behaviour of Jonathan in the story of his sacrilege: they interpreted it as disobedience. Furthermore, both episodes in 13:8–15a and ch. 15 accentuate and highlight the motif of obedience (and its testing), a motif which was, as I have tried to demonstrate, already present and a key motif in this part of the old Saul cycle. disobedient hero and his father, the stern commander-in-chief, lies at the core of the story (Ab urbe condita 8.7). Livy also puts great stress on the basic conflict between the young men and their seniors in a remark concerning this legendary story (12.1): “The war being thus dispatched, and rewards and penalties distributed in accordance with everyone’s deserts [i.e. the son of the consul suffered capital punishment for his serious breach of military discipline], Titus Manlius [the consul and commander-in-chief] returned to Rome; it is said that on his approach only the seniors went out to meet him, and that the young men, then and for all the remainder of his days, abhorred and execrated him.” 79.  On the view that this passage is a later insertion, cf. n. 66 above. 80.  On the theory of the Deuteronomistic origin of ch. 15, see, e.g., Van Seters 1983, 259–61. 81.  Cf. Van Seters 1983, 260–61. 82.  See Van Seters 1983, 260.

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It should be noted that 13:8–15a and ch. 15 interpret this motif within a theological context. These texts regard disobedience as an offence against the deity, the holy sphere, and I would argue that this interpretation of the conduct of Jonathan and that of Saul was included in the old Saul cycle as well. In this respect, it is worthwhile to take another look at ch. 15. This narrative underlines the utmost importance placed on the principle that a warrior and a commander should respect the rules of warfare above all else, since these rules are regarded as the direct command of the deity (15:3, 18). These regulations are understood within a kind of sacral system attested across cultures – not just in Israel.83 These phenomena have already been analyzed in detail in Chapter 1, section 1.1. In the following paragraphs, I will recall certain relevant aspects of religious warfare, adding some further details that bear relevance to the subject matter. For instance, as seen above, it was a well-known ancient Near Eastern idea that divine wrath could strike the enemy.84 Yet, according to many texts, the destructive wrath of the deity could also rise against his/her own people if they seriously offended him/her.85 Divine wrath naturally inspires awe and panic in people and other beings, as we see in Ezek 30:9, and especially 38:20–21, with the description of an earthquake. Moreover, both texts use the term ‫“( חרד‬tremble, be terrified”) – precisely the verb we find in 1 Sam 14:15. In addition, it is noteworthy that the deity can inspire awe and panic in his own people as well, and such a phenomenon is described precisely in the Saul cycle, in 1 Sam 11:7 (‫)פחד־יהוה על־העם‬. The earthquake mentioned in the episode about Jonathan’s exploit (14:15) is associated in the text with the phrase ‫( חרדת אלהים‬cf. the earthquake connected to the term ‫ חרדת‬in Ezek 38:20–21 above).86 This term denotes either “the shuddering of God”87 – that is, the divine wrath itself – or “trembling, quaking of (terror inspired 83.  See the argumentation of Weippert, discussed above; the rule in question is the institution of war-ḥērem. 84.  Cf., e.g., the Assyrian prophecy of Ishtar of Arbela in Parpola 1997, 8, lines IV.5–10; cf. also Exod 15:7; 2 Sam 22:8; Isa 34:2; Jer 50:13, 25; Pss 2:5; 69:25; 78:49–50; 79:6, etc. See the discussion in section 1.1.3 above 85.  Cf. the horrible fate of Babylon ascribed to the wrath of Marduk, its own patron deity; see, e.g., Parpola 1997, LXXIV. Cf. also line 5 in the Mesha Inscription, as well as Deut 4:25; 7:4; 9:18; 11:17; 29:26; 31:17; Josh 22:18; 23:16; 2 Sam 24:1; 1 Kgs 15:30; 2 Kgs 17:17–18, etc. See Jackson and Dearman 1989, 94; Jackson 1989, 97. 86.  In Ezek 38:21 the corrupt phrase ‫ הרי חרב‬is emended to ‫ חרדה‬on the basis of the LXX version (φόβον), see BHS, editio quinta emendata opera Adrian Schenker (1997, 968), apparatus criticus ad Ezek 38:21. 87.  See McCarter 1980, 240.

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by) God.”88 The earthquake itself is denoted by the phrase ‫ותרגז הארץ‬ (1 Sam 14:15bα). This phrase, the verb ‫ רגז‬and the noun ‫ארץ‬, can refer to an earthquake by which the deity (in the form of divine wrath) assists his own people (cf. Ps 77:19); yet ‫ תרגז הארץ‬can also denote such an earthquake by which the deity express his wrath against his own people because of their sinful conduct (cf. Amos 8:8). According to the usual interpretation, the earthquake in 1 Sam 14:15 signals divine intervention in the exploit of Jonathan, and it is also presumed that the deity acts on behalf of Jonathan.89 Yet the deity does not seem to come to the aid of Jonathan, since the earthquake, the divine wrath and its result – widespread panic – do not precede Jonathan’s defeat of the (twenty) Philistines; these alarming events occur in the aftermath of the slaughter performed by him (cf. 1 Sam 14:14 and v. 15). This construction of the text suggests that the earthquake, the divine wrath, is actually aroused by the individual action of Jonathan which he undertook without the knowledge and consent of his commander, offending the strict rules of warfare sanctified by the deity (cf. Amos 8:8; because of the sinful conduct of Israel the earth quakes and divine wrath, punishment, afflicts them – Amos 8:9–14). According to ancient beliefs, the deities were actively involved in martial activities; in fact, they actually were regarded as the real leaders of such actions as well.90 D. J. McCarthy (1985, 254) has claimed with regard to 1 Sam 14 that “The Holy War idea is linked with the Battle Story [i.e. a narrative pattern]. Weippert has taken the trouble to document what was clear in any case: the Holy War was universal in the ancient world, and the Battle Story, which was not confined to that world, involves the gods. Indeed, they provoke, guide, make revelations, and cause panic: cf. the Tukulti-Ninurta Epic and the Iliad (XVIII, 202–31), the heart of the Holy War experience.” The code of warfare was ascribed to and sanctioned by the gods. Consequently, any offence against the general code of warfare or against the specific will that the deity/deities conveyed, e.g. by means of an oracle, were believed to provoke the deity/deities to incite divine wrath against the offender who disobeyed the divine will. The best example of this concept is exactly the war-ḥērem case elaborated by Deuteronomistic 88.  Cf. BDB, 353b. 89.  Cf. McCarter 1980, 242; Campbell 2003, 146. 90.  Cf. the divine warrior concept, which was well known in Israel (see, e.g., Longman and Reid 1995) and across the ancient Near East (see, e.g., Kang 1989). It also features in the Iliad, in which the Trojan war is presented as a fight between gods as well as between humans. The roles the deities play in the mythical structure of this epic have been even compared to ancient Near Eastern, Ugaritic, and Old Testament patterns (see Louden 2006, 240–85).

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authors/redactors in 1 Sam 15. In the Roman legend too (see Livy 8.7), utmost importance was placed on military discipline, and we observe the principle that exacting blind obedience in the battlefield is directly related to the order and will of the gods, actually to the consultation of the deities (cf. Livy 8.6.11–16). Hamblin (2006, 186–92) cites the various kinds of oracles by which the ancient Near Eastern gods were consulted before a military enterprise. Thus divination was, so to speak, an inevitable preparatory ritual before waging war or engaging in battle. In the light of the above-mentioned points, it is extremely signifi­cant that, according to 1 Sam 14:1–3, Jonathan disappears so as to engage in individual combat, evidently at the very time when Saul, the commander of the army, is about to commence the normal process of military divination in preparation for the battle (see above). The structure of the text underlines the contrast between the conduct of Jonathan and the normal divinatory protocols that preceded engagement in battle. In ch. 13, Jonathan proves to be an agile, restless, and energetic young hero who is always eager to initiate and set things in motion (cf. 13:3). Furthermore, his guerrilla attack alluded to in 13:3 is outrageous and shocking to the Philistines; he may have already transgressed the general rules of warcraft even by this deed (see above). When he decides to take the initiative again in 14:1, he acts in accordance with his earlier behaviour. Here, we see that his presentation is consistent throughout the entire narrative. In view of the preceding events in ch. 13, it appears to be a plausible assumption that the attitude of Saul – namely, that he attributes the heroic deed of Jonathan to himself (13:4) – also provokes his son; this may contribute to his decision to break the military rules once more. Jonathan wants to prove his heroism again, and on his own, not submitting himself to the authority of his father, the commander. The conflict between the young hero and the senior hero can thus be seen to evolve in the narrative. This behaviour of Jonathan may provoke the deity in two respects: first, Jonathan disobeys his commander, and he neglects the general code of warfare sanctioned by the deity when he engages in combat without the knowledge of his commander; secondly, in so doing, he also neglects one of the most basic rules of ancient warfare – namely, that the deity was to be consulted ahead of any military engagement, the divine will being sought via the sanctioned channels of a properly performed oracle. What directly incites Jonathan to duel (so too the son of the Roman consul in Livy’s work) is the provocative remark of the enemy (cf. 1 Sam 14:11–12, and Livy 8.7.4, 7). The insertion of the divine sign in 14:6–10 – on the face of it, a sort of consultation of the deity – does not serve as a real justification for the attitude of Jonathan, since he does not actually seek the divine will. He is, in any case, absolutely

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determined to fight a duel with the Philistines, as the terms applied in 14:1, 6–10 indicate (see the argumentation on this issue above). Thus Jonathan displays disobedience not solely against his father and commander, but also against the deity. The earthquake, the wrath of God that incites panic (‫)חרדת אלהים‬, signals divine displeasure with Jonathan’s breach of essential military regulations sanctified by the deity – it is a direct reaction to Jonathan’s disobedient conduct right after he defeats his enemies (cf. 14:13–15). It is noteworthy that in Livy’s recording of Roman legend too, the young hero, the son of the commander, is seen to be successful in his duel (Livy 8.7.13–14). Notably, his father and the narrative as a whole communicate that (temporary) success in itself is not necessarily positive at all. The young Roman hero has to suffer the dire consequences of his disobedience. As has been mentioned, according to ancient beliefs, the wrath of the deity could arise against his/her own people, for instance as a result of their disobedience or some other serious offence caused to the deity. Having felt the earthquake and having heard of the convulsion in the camp and in the field where Jonathan slaughtered some twenty Philistines, Saul instantly holds a review (1 Sam 14:15–17a). His reaction suggests that something is amiss. The absence of Jonathan is not cast in a favourable light at all. Saul apparently suspects that the earthquake and the convulsion are a response to the actions of someone who has gone missing/left his post without the prior knowledge of the commander. As Keith Bodner (2008, 135) remarks, “the king would have reason to suspect Jonathan is the one who has left the camp; after all, it is Jonathan who commences hostilities – perhaps to Saul’s strategic detriment – in chap. 13.” That Saul’s army finally defeats the Philistines in this battle (cf. 14:21–22) does not necessarily imply that all is well. Indeed, Anthony Campbell (2003, 146) has drawn attention to the strange phenomenon that “the victory should be of enormous significance, yet it is practically passed over” in the biblical text. I believe that this presentation of the victory is intentional. In this respect it is significant that the subsequent parallel story about Jonathan’s sacrilege highlights the idea that the deity may have demands and may express his/her displeasure after a successful battle as well. Although Jonathan commits his sacrilege during the battle (cf. 14:24–30), nevertheless, at first, Saul’s army succeeds in overcoming the Philistines. The manifest consequences of Jonathan’s deed begin to emerge only afterwards – the deity reveals by two subsequent oracles that he is resentful, and that Jonathan is under a curse (cf. vv. 36–43, see the discussion on this question above).

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Bodner (2008, 135) has noted that, “Once the roll is called and it is discovered that Jonathan and his armour bearer are missing, Saul’s imperatives in 14:18–19 are baffling.” The first reaction of Saul reminds the reader of the image of Saul at the beginning of the episode, where he is sitting under a pomegranate tree, ready to consult the deity before engaging in battle (14:2–3, see above). In fact, it is not reported that anything has changed in the meantime. Having noticed the confusion in the field and the absence of Jonathan, Saul decides to consult the deity at last (the reference either to the ark or to the ephod indicates that that is what he intends to do)91 – but then he interrupts the necessary divination (14:18–19). The text communicates quite clearly the reason for Saul’s change of mind: he orders the priest to bring the ark/ephod (14:18), but “while Saul was talking to the priest, the tumult in the camp of the Philistines increased more and more; and Saul said to the priest, ‘Withdraw your hand’ ” (14:19, NRSV). Based on the evidence supplied in the text, I would conclude that the direct motivation for his action – i.e. his interruption of the divination and the hasty march into battle – is that he succumbs to the irresistible temptation to seize the military advantage afforded by the Philistines’ disarray. Saul wants to take advantage of the opportunity. Although he presumably disapproved of Jonathan’s conduct, Saul engages in combat without the deity’s permission, without observing the regular pre-battle divinatory protocols (cf. 14:17). Saul perhaps believes that the confusion among the enemy has become so great that success is assured, and that, as such, he can clinch his victory without seeking divine advice. (We should note the aforementioned interpretation of his behaviour in 13:3b–4: one can guess that Saul does not approve of Jonathan’s guerrilla attack, yet, nevertheless, he wants to benefit from it; he even attributes it to himself when mobilizing the army.) Summarizing the motifs and elements treated above, divination quite obviously functions as a leitmotif in the episode about Jonathan’s exploit. It constitutes a starting point at the beginning, and it reappears after his slaughter of the twenty Philistines (cf. 14:2–3, and vv. 18–19). Divination actually constitutes the framework of the story. In the old Saul cycle, Jonathan embarked on his exploit without consulting the deity. Saul the commander, by contrast, was cast as one ready to perform the usual divination before the battle. Later, having noticed the confusion created by Jonathan, Saul even initiates the divinatory ritual, though ultimately the inquiry is terminated. Like Jonathan, Saul launches his attack on the enemy 91.  The MT mentions the ark of God (‫ )ארון האלהים‬in 14:18, but most critics emend the reading to ephod on the basis of the LXX version (see, e.g., McCarter 1980, 237, 240). In either case, the remark refers to some kind of divination in all probability; concerning the ark as a means of divination, cf. Judg 20:27; see, e.g., Bodner 2008, 136.

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forces without having consulted the deity. This storyline demonstrates a certain tendency in the behaviour of Saul: Jonathan initiates the general confusion, while Saul gets involved in it. Saul’s original good communication with the deity, outlined in chs. 1 and 9–11, is now disturbed. This negative tendency, the downward spiral, is presented in the text through scenes depicting and referring to divinatory rituals or to the lack of them. Concerning the story of Jonathan’s exploit and the battle account in the Saul cycle (14:1–2, 3b–5, 11–22), the next question that arises is what sort of ending the original story had, and whether it can still be discovered in the present version of the biblical narrative. As Anthony Campbell (2003, 147) remarks, “Two further stories are involved here: one, the story of the curse (vv. 23b–30, 36–45); the other, inserted into the middle of the curse story, the story of the slaughter of the spoil (vv. 31–35). It may well be that neither belonged originally as a continuation of 14:1–23a.” Nevertheless, one can discover a common element that occurs both in the episode of Jonathan’s exploit and at the end of the curse story: remarkably, the denomination “Elohim” (‫ )אלהים‬appears in 14:15, 18 as well as in vv. 36, 37, 44 and 45. Moreover, according to the analysis presented above, all these references are found at crucial and essential points in the narrative. It is the phrase ‫ חרדת אלהים‬that expresses the wrath of God (Elohim) and the panic incited by it in 14:15. Saul calls for the ark/ephod of God (Elohim) in 14:18 so that the necessary divination can be performed before engaging in battle, but he terminates the ritual, and decides to attack the enemy right away. Just before Saul sets out to pursue the Philistines (14:36), the priest warns him to consult the deity (Elohim). Saul consults the deity (Elohim), but he does not get an answer (14:37). Saul calls his son to account for his deed in the name of God (Elohim, 14:44), and the people (the warriors) ransom Jonathan; they rescue him from the consequences of his behaviour by referring to the victory, claiming that “he (Jonathan) worked with God (Elohim) today” (14:45, NRSV). (Significantly, in the section about the divine sign, 14:6–10, which I consider to be a later insertion, the denomination YHWH is applied, cf. 14:6 [×2], 10, and even 12bβ; see above). It should also be mentioned that the tension between the two heroes – the young one and the senior hero – which began to emerge in ch. 13 and in 14:1–22, evidently has not culminated by the end of the battle (v. 22) – a proper ending for the old legendary story seems to be missing here. In this connection, it is worthwhile to take a look at the parallel Roman legend recorded by Livy. The successful duel of the young hero by which he commits a serious breach of military discipline is followed by the impeachment – his father, the commander of the army sentences him to death (Livy 8.7.12–19 – note that the conflict between the young people and their seniors is a stressed point in this story, cf. Livy 12.1).

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From these factors, it is possible to assume that in the original Saul cycle, the story of Jonathan’s exploit and the battle (14:1–2, 3b–5, 6–22) continued with the account of the failed divination and the following impeachment of Jonathan for his disobedience in 14:36–37, 44–45. One may reconstruct the sequence of events as follows: the deity signals his displeasure in 1 Sam 14:15. Saul then notices the absence of Jonathan, and realizes that his son has caused the confusion. Perceiving the divine disfavour, and recognizing that divination is prerequisite before battle, Saul decides to consult the deity. Saul, however, interrupts the ritual and engages in battle without consulting the deity. When he is just about to complete the victory by pursuing the enemy, the priest warns Saul that he should consult the deity. The subsequent divination, however, fails to draw a response from the deity – a clear sign of divine disfavour that is now addressed directly to Saul. Saul’s reaction is to take Jonathan to task for his disobedience, for his serious breach of military discipline. Saul blames Jonathan for the divine disfavour that afflicts the entire army, although Saul too is implicated in the disobedience of Jonathan – Saul also engaged in battle without the consultation of the deity. Capital punishment for disobedience in the battlefield is undoubtedly a very stern penalty. However, it is not unusual, for military discipline is universally regarded as the very essence of warfare in various cultures. Here, we might think of the speech of the commander in Livy’s version of the legend (8.7.15–19). What makes these stories (i.e. the Roman legend and the 1 Sam 14) especially cruel is that in both stories it is a father who decides to pass the death sentence on his own son. Still, Livy underlines in his account that this stern and cruel act helps the father, Titus Manlius Torquatus, to maintain discipline in the army, and ensures the final Roman success in the war (8.8.1; 12.1). We see here a striking difference in the biblical narrative. Rather than being put to death, Jonathan is actually rescued by the army. As such, Jonathan’s military disobedience against the commander (his father) and the offence he caused the deity, go unpunished. However, it is conspicuous in the subsequent development of the storyline of the presumed Saul cycle that, in the long run, Saul the commander and Israel do not prove to be successful against the Philistines – they win the battle but lose the war. Saul, Jonathan, and Israel finally suffer a crushing defeat at Mount Gilboa (cf. 1 Sam 28 and 31, see below). In ch. 14, Jonathan survives, he is spared; yet, as Diane M. Sharon (2002, 192) puts it, “in the end God claims Jonathan’s life,” and even his father, Saul, and the army of Israel share his fate. According to the logic of the legendary pattern which lies at the

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core of the Roman legend and of the biblical story, the breach of military discipline has to be severely punished (and the deity has to be appeased) in order for the army in question to achieve victory in war. If the offence – disobedience – goes unpunished, the consequences will affect not only the offender but also the entire army. As has been discussed above, according to ancient beliefs the code of warfare is sanctioned by the deity, meaning that the transgression of these orders seriously offends the deity him- or herself. Strikingly, in this legendary scheme, the capital punishment of the transgressor (the commander’s own son) is not condemned, it is in fact required. That is precisely the tragic crux of the pattern. However cruel this principle is, this interpretation of the story in 1 Sam 14 is supported by the subsequent (and presumably much later) narrative in ch. 15. Here we encounter the concept of war-ḥērem (‫)חרם‬. The very essence of the story is that this cruel military regulation – i.e. the total extermination of the enemy – has to be carried out. The enemy has to be utterly destroyed, since this is the ordinance and the will of YHWH in that particular situation (see above). Saul, however, decides to spare the life of King Agag. The disobedience of Saul is severely condemned. It results in the final rejection of Saul, and Samuel, the prophet of YHWH, fulfils the will of YHWH: he executes King Agag with his own hands (15:32–33). As I argued earlier, the narrative of ch. 15 has many common features with the stories in chs. 13–14; they can be regarded as parallel stories in many respects, especially on the basis of the common leitmotif – namely, the theme of obedience/disobedience. It is noteworthy that both ch. 15 and the Roman legend are concluded with the motif of the execution of the person whose death is required to restore the principle of obedience to the deity/to the orders sanctioned by the deity. One may infer from all this that, although this seems a singularly horrible solution to the modern reader, the execution of the offender, Jonathan, could resolve the original problem – the breach of military discipline and the serious offence to the deity, according to the logic of the old legend. However, with the rescue of Jonathan, the offence to the deity remains unresolved, and it involves even more dire consequences: not only does Jonathan meet his inevitable fate, but also Saul, his father, and the army which rescued Jonathan suffer a terrible defeat in the end (cf. 1 Sam 28, 31). Yet, if one takes a closer look at ch. 15 and compares it with the motifs found in ch. 14, it is striking that in both stories Saul delays, or rather omits, punishing his son and executing King Agag (cf. 14:17–19 and 15:8–9), and in doing so, he himself insults the deity. Moreover, he even

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makes matters worse by committing a very serious offence to the deity: Saul himself ignores the military rules sanctioned by God, and disregards the will of God according to both texts. In ch. 14 Saul interrupts and effectively dismisses the necessary divination before battle (14:18–19), this despite the fact that Saul himself had noticed the divine disfavour that Jonathan’s disobedience had induced (14:15–17). This motif may even involve the notion that, when doing battle, Saul acts not only without the consent of the deity, but also directly against the divine will. This is an extremely serious offence to the deity, who is, according to ancient beliefs, the real leader in military affairs. The narrative conveys that the divine disfavour with Jonathan’s conduct, the wrath of God, manifests itself in the earthquake and the panic; when Saul ignores this divine message, he actually turns the divine wrath against himself and the army he commands. Accordingly, the deity expresses his marked disfavour and the definite rejection of Saul by means of an unanswered oracle in 14:37. In ch. 15 Saul spares the best of the animals and all that is valuable; he does not utterly destroy them/put them under the ban (15:9). In doing so, he clearly ignores the divine will conveyed to him in 15:3. In both cases, it is clear (ch. 15), or at least presumable (ch. 14), that Saul acts directly against the divine will: he totally ignores the divine communications (the sign of divine wrath and the deity’s command), and these offences seem unpardonable to the deity – God irrevocably rejects Saul, and turns away from him. In the old Saul cycle, even the capital punishment of Jonathan would not be enough to appease the deity, since Saul, the commander himself, extremely seriously offended the deity. The probably much later narrative in ch. 15 conveys the same message: even the execution of King Agag (15:33) is not enough to make amends for the wrongdoing committed by Saul; the refusal of Saul for his disobedience towards the deity is final (cf. 15:26). In my understanding, in the original Saul cycle the fates of father and son were completely interrelated: the story proved the tragic failure of both father and son, and they could not avoid the fatal defeat (cf. 1 Sam 28; 31) because of the serious transgressions they committed. The same theme, the final rejection of Saul by the deity, was later recomposed in a theologically more direct manner in ch. 15 (and in 13:7b–15a). Drawing all of this together, I would maintain that it is a plausible assumption that in the original Saul cycle the story of Jonathan’s exploit and the battle account (1 Sam 14:1–2, 3b–5, 11–22) continued with the divinatory scene (14:36–37) and Saul’s impeachment of his son for his serious breach of military discipline in 14:44–45. The episode that is found between the story of the exploit and its ending in the present text is the account of Jonathan’s sacrilege, the curse story (14:24–30, 38–43,

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46), which is usually regarded as an originally independent story, that is, material not necessarily related to the narrative of the exploit and the battle (vv. 31–35 is another insertion, see above). Regardless of whether or not the curse story was based on a real legend of Saul and Jonathan, it seems to have been, at the very least, redacted to fit in with the story of the Saul cycle in ch. 14 (cf. especially vv. 36–37 and 44–45, which verses I regard as originally belonging to the Saul cycle and which are presently found in the middle and at the end of the curse story). As for the oath Saul laid upon the troops in 1 Sam 14:24, Joseph Blenkinsopp (1964, 428) has argued that oaths belong to holy war. Blenkinsopp has referred to Josh 6:26 and Judg 21:18 as further examples of this concept, and it is to be noted that in all three texts the term ‫ארור‬ (“cursed”) is applied. By taking his oath, Saul imposes a fast upon the entire army. Aside from the fact that it is not advisable to consume a lot before any kind of physical exercise, including fighting, it is notable that some biblical texts “associate eating, drink, and pleasure with domestic life and women, and enjoin men to withdraw from these cultural comforts in favor of martial austerity” (Mobley 2006, 103; cf. especially 2 Sam 11:11, and Deut 20:7; 24:5; cf. also the Sibitti’s speech to Erra, the divine warrior, in the Mesopotamian Erra Epic). The motif of fasting appears within a military context in the Iliad as well. There, Achilles says, “Verily for mine own part would I even now bid the sons of the Achaeans do battle fasting and unfed, and at set of sun make them ready a mighty meal, when we shall have avenged the shame. Till that shall be, down my throat, at least, neither drink nor food shall pass, seeing my comrade is dead…” (19.205–11).92 The fast of Achilles is, in fact, a dominant theme of the entire book 19 (cf. vv. 145–354). Remarkably, Achilles intends to impose fasting upon the whole army ahead of a battle, and he would order the warriors to abstain from drink and food until sunset, all day long. Furthermore, he also declares that the aim is to take revenge. All these three elements appear in the oath of Saul as well (cf. 1 Sam 14:24). It is quite apparent and generally presumed that such fasting is an attempt to influence the deity/deities.93 At the same time, it can express mourning for deceased warriors who are to be avenged (in the case of Achilles, for Patroklos). Nevertheless, as has been mentioned, martial austerity in relation to food was a widely accepted ancient concept. However, other leaders disapprove of the extremely severe fasting proposed by Achilles (cf. the words of Odysseus in 19.154–71, laying great stress 92.  Trans. Murray 1924. 93.  Cf. McCarter 1980, 249.

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on the extreme heroism of Achilles). In the biblical text, Jonathan likewise criticizes the oath of Saul (1 Sam 14:29–30). It is significant that Achilles is fed by the deities with nectar and ambrosia (Iliad 19.352–54), which are considered to be forms of honey by some scholars.94 This special food enables Achilles to fight the enemy without eating anything else. Similarly, Jonathan eats nothing more than some honey during the battle, following which his eyes brighten – he evidently believes that he has gained strength by tasting a bit of honey (cf. 1 Sam 14:27, 29, 30). Summarizing the above-mentioned parallel motifs, one may conclude, in accordance with the proposal of Joseph Blenkinsopp, that the oath of Saul is not at all without parallel in an ancient military context and in heroic legends, as well as in the Bible. In fact, it seems that Saul acts as a typical hero, as a typical ancient warrior, and Jonathan likewise. Thus the oath and the fast fit in neatly with the military context of the curse story. As for the real motive behind Saul’s taking such an oath,95 this deed is often regarded as a rash act. (Such a reading is formed on the basis of the Septuagint text of 1 Sam 14:24, but my own view, following Bodner [2008, 138], is that the Hebrew text is more preferable.) However, a more sinister possibility emerges if one takes into consideration the later sections of the story. In v. 39 we witness Saul’s first reaction to the failed inquiry of the deity (v. 37) – he begins to seek the one who has committed a ritual breach, and claims “even if it is in my son Jonathan, he shall surely die!” (NRSV). This wording suggests that Saul must suspect that Jonathan is the transgressor (see Bodner 2008, 144), and Saul is evidently ready to sentence him to death from the very first moment. (Cf. the behaviour of Saul in vv. 40, 42, where he appears to single Jonathan out throughout the divinatory process.) Considering the conduct of Jonathan in ch. 13 and in the story of his exploit, it is not at all surprising that Saul immediately jumps to the conclusion that Jonathan is the offender. Still, Saul’s attitude raises the suspicion that he definitely expects Jonathan to prove to be the one who has committed a sacrilege, and that Saul took his oath being completely aware that, in all probability, Jonathan would disobey again, and thus he would draw down the curse upon himself. In this light, the accusation Jonathan levels against Saul seems to be well-founded, even though he uses an extremely harsh term to express his indignation. Jonathan says, “My father has brought trouble/misfortune to the land!” (‫)עכר אבי את־הארץ‬. The term used by Jonathan is ‫עכר‬, the 94.  See n. 75 above. 95.  See Campbell 2003, 147. McCarter (1980, 243) renders the phrase, as follows: “Saul made a great blunder that day” (cf. McCarter 1980, 245).

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implications of which verb have been thoroughly discussed already (see section 1.1.6 above). As we have seen, the verb ‫ עכר‬is also applied in other Deuteronomistic texts, namely with reference to Achan in Josh 7:25 (see Bodner 2008, 140), and Achab and Elijah, who mutually describe each other as ‫“( עכר ישראל‬troubler of Israel”) in 1 Kgs 18:17, 18. In addition, in Judg 11:35, Jephthah tears his clothes and evidently grief-stricken and thoroughly afflicted cries out “Alas, my daughter…you are among those who have brought trouble/misfortune to me! (‫”)ואת היית בעכרי‬ (see section 1.1.6 above). In all these instances the verb ‫ עכר‬expresses some very grave accusation, and it is particularly apparent in the first three examples just mentioned: Achan, Elijah, and Achab are accused respectively of bringing great misfortune on the whole land/people of Israel. On the other hand, Jephthah blames the victim of his own act. Especially in the case of Achan, the context undoubtedly indicates that the ritual breach committed by Achan insults the deity, incites his wrath, and brings misfortune and military defeat to the whole community (cf. Josh 6:18; 7:25). In a recently published study, Matthew Michael has drawn attention to the several common features shared by the Achan/ Achor traditions and the Saul stories found in 1 Sam 14:24–15:35 (see Michael 2013). For instance, the offence of Achan is revealed by means of a lot oracle process, as is the sacrilege of Jonathan (cf. Josh 7:16–21 and 1 Sam 14:40–43). In my opinion, this lot oracle motif probably belongs to the Deuteronomistic redaction of these texts (cf. also 1 Sam 10:17–21bα).96 My belief, as I have already indicated, is that in the original Saul cycle the story of Jonathan’s exploit and the battle account (14:1–2, 3b–5, 11–22) were followed by the failed divination (vv. 36–37) and then by Saul’s impeachment of Jonathan for his disobedient conduct (vv. 44–45). Yet, as far as I can make out, in the final version of the narrative, Saul chooses an even more roundabout, indirect way of punishing his son – to implicate him in a very serious ritual offence, knowing very well how prone his son is to disobeying commands. In so doing, Saul actually exposes not only his son but also Israel (“the land”) to divine wrath. It is noteworthy that, according to my reconstruction, he did the same thing earlier – that is, he turned the divine wrath against himself and his people by ignoring the warning sign of divine wrath (the earthquake) and terminating the divination before going to battle (14:15–20). In the curse story, Saul appears, to my mind, to be determined to manipulate the deity himself by means of a ritual practice, 96.  As for the latter being part of the Deuteronomistic editing, see, e.g., White 2006, 119. As for Josh 7 being edited by a Deuteronomistic redactor, see, e.g., Begg 1986.

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i.e. the taking of an oath. Saul’s action here strongly resembles the attitude of Jephthah discussed in section 1.1.6 above. Like Saul, Jephthah also attempts to manipulate the deity; this, in my view, is his primary motive for taking his vow. In fact, Saul intends to involve the deity in his own designs and to misuse the potential of the oath. This, we should be in no doubt, is an extremely serious insult to the deity, to the holy sphere (see the discussion on this and the use of ‫ עכר‬in general in section 1.1.6). My suggestion is that, when taking his oath, Saul attempts to sort out the problem of his disobedient son – in fact, to finish him off completely by means of the curse. By employing such means, Saul can avoid impeaching his son directly; after all, Saul behaved in a like manner earlier, when he decided to engage in battle without calling his son to account for his breach of military discipline (14:17–20). Yet, in this indirect way, Saul can punish and destroy his son very effectively by imposing a curse upon him. However, Saul’s actions involve very grave consequences – the curse can, and eventually does, affect the whole community (cf. 14:37–38). In this light, the reasons why Jonathan uses such harsh words with regard to the oath becomes more understandable. Nevertheless, the core meaning conveyed by the story is the same, either with or without the episode of Jonathan’s sacrilege. On the one hand, the problem raised by Jonathan’s disobedience remains unresolved when Saul does not endeavour to make amends for the insult to the deity (vv. 17–20); and when later Jonathan is rescued by the army (vv. 44–45), the deity remains unappeased. On the other hand, Saul, the commander himself, causes the deity extreme offence. The first time we see this is when Saul fails to consult the deity before battle (vv. 19–20); he thus completely ignores the divine will and the grim divine warning, the wrath of the deity expressed by the earthquake (v. 15). It seems that, being great warriors, heroes, both Jonathan and Saul want to win on their own account, without the consent and help of the deity. In the long run, the failure of both Saul and Jonathan will be followed by inevitable consequences that will affect the whole community, the entire army of Israel in the battle of Gilboa (chs. 28 and 31, see above). Still, the insertion of the episode of Jonathan’s sacrilege highlights the motifs which were already present in the Saul cycle. The story of the curse, the attempt of Saul to manipulate the deity by his oath (i.e. a serious ritual offence), underlines the meaning and significance of his original ritual offence – namely, that he terminated the divinatory ritual and engaged in battle without seeking divine advice (14:18–20), ignoring the threatening sign of divine wrath over the disobedience of Jonathan (14:15–17). In both stories, Saul evokes divine wrath against his own people; he seems to oppose deliberately and

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then even to attempt to manipulate the deity. This kind of arrogance or hubris – proving his heroism on his own, acting against the will of the deity, challenging the gods – is a typical flaw of heroes in both ancient Greek and Mesopotamian myths and legends.97 As for Jonathan, his disobedience, his failure in the test of leadership and the fatal nature of his misconduct is even more emphasized by the insertion of the story of his sacrilege. First of all, it seems that Jonathan deliberately disobeys his father’s command (14:27, see the discussion above), and, when challenged about his actions (v. 28), he even abuses his father, the commander, in front of the soldiers (vv. 29–30). However ill-advised, malevolent, and even hideous his father’s oath may be, Jonathan’s behaviour towards his own commander is unpardonable according to the ancient code of warfare. Moreover, the attitude of Jonathan – the son of the commander – probably contributes to the incitement of the soldiers to sacrilegious behaviour in 14:32.98 It seems that by twice violating the sacred rules of YHWH war – firstly, by his individual exploit, and secondly, by his sacrilege – Jonathan insults the deity himself. Divination, communication with the deity, is a key motif and an organizing factor throughout the whole narrative of the Michmash battle in 1 Sam 14, even in the original legend (the Saul cycle). According to my interpretation, the preparations for consulting the deity right before the battle (vv. 2–3), the divine wrath (the sign of divine disfavour, v. 15), the actual beginning of the divinatory ritual (v. 18), its interruption (v. 19), the failed divination (vv. 36–37), and the ensuing impeachment (vv. 44–45), all constitute a framework within the old Saul cycle. This sequence of events demonstrates how the communication with the deity gets disturbed step by step, and it completely breaks down in the end. In v. 36, when Saul wants to pursue the enemy, the priest has to warn him to consult the deity – in contrast to his previous conduct, it seems that Saul no longer feels the need to consult the deity. Notably, the priest now has to warn him to seek a divine oracle, whereas in 14:18 it was Saul who ordered the priest to commence the divinatory ritual. The subsequent divination in 14:37 reveals that the deity no longer responds the question of Saul – through his lack of response, the deity exhibits his disfavour and his rejection of Saul.

97.  See, e.g., Robinson 2006, 16. On the hubris of Gilgamesh, see, e.g., Nir and Shipp 2002, 114. 98.  Verses 31–35, the story of the slaughter of the spoil, are presumably another insertion (see above).

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Heroines, Heroes and Deity 1 Samuel 14:37 (possible responses to Saul’s question in the Urim and Thummim oracle) no (unfavourable) no response

yes (favourable) (response)

Precisely this motif, the rejection of Saul, is the essential point of the whole narrative in chs. 13–14, and it is very significant that the verb š’l (‫ )שאל‬is again the term which is applied in this failed consultation of the deity that actually communicates the divine disfavour with Saul. The term š’l (‫ )שאל‬and the motif of divination also link this narrative with the previous sections of the presumed Saul cycle (chs. 1 and 9–10). This marked divine disfavour finally puts an end to the positive communication between Saul and the deity in the Saul cycle. Saul’s rejection is final (cf. the discussion on chs. 28 and 31 below). Yet, in the present text, one more divinatory scene is included (14:40–42, 43) that has its parallels in other passages of Deuteronomistic origin (Josh 7:16–21, and 1 Sam 10:17–21bα, see n. 96 above). This fourth divinatory scene in 1 Sam 14 completes the story of Jonathan’s sacrilege, the curse (oath) story, which is also probably independent from the narrative of the Saul cycle. Nevertheless, this lot oracle scene is composed in such a form that it perfectly fits in with the storyline of the Saul cycle. The story of Saul’s oath has its parallel in the narrative of Jephthah’s vow within the Deuteronomistic History (see above): it seems that both military leaders try to manipulate the deity by their vow/oath. However, Jephthah, who is actually “caught in a trap,” decides to act according to the terms of his vow – he decides not to offend the holy sphere, not to offend the deity. He resigns himself to the inevitable, and to the decision of his daughter; he gives up his daughter in favour of the deity (see sections 1.1.7; 1.2; and 1.3.7 above). The story of Saul’s oath, on the other hand, reinforces the negative picture of Saul: he not only attempts to manipulate the deity, but also neglects to fulfil his oath, thus gravely offending the holy sphere, the deity himself. Observing these two stories within the context of the Deuteronomistic History, one can conclude that the presentation of Jephthah’s conduct, and that of Saul in similar crisis situations, markedly differ from each other: although the story of Jephthah vividly displays the horrible consequences of his vowing a human sacrifice, nonetheless Jephthah finally proves his respect for the holy sphere (the deity), and thus avoids direct divine retribution and dishonourable death (cf. also 1 Sam 12:11). Saul (and his family), on the other hand, is/are completely rejected by the deity in the end. The lot oracle in 1 Sam 14:40–42 reveals and highlights that due to his disobedient behaviour (cf. 14:27, 43, see above) Jonathan is under a curse.

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The Oracle in 1 Samuel 14:40–42 Jonathan Jonathan is under a curse (cf. vv. 24, 27, 37–44). “cursed,” “guilty” Urim (LXX) Urim (‫“( ארר ← )אורים‬to curse”) “Aufhellung der Schuld” (Eissfeldt 1968, 272) (‫)אור ← אורים‬ Revealing a cursed, guilty person by the lot oracle: Achan (Josh 7:14–18) Jonah (Jonah 1:7)

the people, Saul “guiltless,” “being without fault” Thummim (LXX) Thummim (‫תמם ← )תמים‬ (usually presumed) “Feststellung der Unschuld” (‫)תמם ← תמים‬

Thus Jonathan is under a curse, and the curse remains within the community, since Jonathan is rescued by the army (14:45). Moreover, a curse is potentially “contagious” (on the contagious nature of such a quality/ state, see section 1.1.4 above); it can spread, and it can affect the whole community. Similarly, Jonathan claims in 14:29 that his father has brought misfortune (‫ )עכר‬to the land precisely by the act of his imposing a potential curse upon the army (see above). Still, even without the curse story, the Saul cycle itself suggests the same or a very similar idea: the disobedience of Jonathan and that of Saul trigger negative divine reaction, and the consequences will affect the entire army, as will happen in chs. 28 and 31. Summarizing the above, we can say that divination is a leitmotif in the story of the Michmash battle (1 Sam 14); it forms the framework of the narrative. The motif of divination occurs at the crucial points of the story within the presumed Saul cycle (vv. 2, 18–19, 36–37), and an additional divinatory scene is attached to this scheme (vv. 40–42), which scene is probably a later insertion and of Deuteronomistic origin. All these divi­nations describe a growing dissonance in the communication between Saul and the deity that results in the complete rejection of Saul (v. 37). In the latter, failed consultation of the deity – the actual apex of the story of the Michmash battle – the term š’l (‫ )שאל‬is applied, which is the very same term that is also used as a key word in chs. 1 and 9–10. The leitmotif of divination, together with the phrase š’l (‫)שאל‬, connect all these narratives with one another. The story of chs. 13–14 proves the tragic failure of both Jonathan and Saul, which is demonstrated by the four, ever more negative, divinatory scenes.

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3.3.1.4. 1 Samuel 28 and 31 1 Samuel 28 relates the direct consequences of the rejection of Saul. In this chapter too, divination forms the core of the story, and here the communication between Saul and the deity is finally put to an end; it is absolutely negative. The war with the Philistines goes on, and 28:6 recounts that Saul, being in dire straits, distressed by the sight of the Philistine army (cf. v. 5), consults YHWH before the decisive battle of Gilboa (cf. ch. 31). The consultation of YHWH is denoted again by the term š’l b- (-‫)שאל ב‬, the same term used to refer to the consultation of the deity in 14:37. However, Saul does not obtain a response from the deity. This non-response, as I have argued, is actually to be understood as a negative, unfavourable reply. This motif of the deity not responding to an inquiry is exactly the same as that in 14:37: the storyline of the Saul cycle proceeds with the same theme and the same term (š’l b- [-‫)]שאל ב‬. In 14:37, the failed divi­nation revealed the divine rejection of Saul, and in 28:6 this rejection is confirmed in precisely the same form: the deity does not answer (‫אלהים‬/‫לא ענה יהוה‬, 14:37; 28:6, 15; cf. the earlier discussion on the meaning and significance of the concept of the responding/not responding deity in biblical and ancient Near Eastern texts). The only difference between the failed oracle in 14:37 and that in 28:6 is the intensity of divine rejection: in 28:6 not one but three different kinds of divination fail (dream interpretation, Urim and Thummim ritual, prophecy), and this triple motif highlights that the divine rejection of Saul is really final. Eventually Saul resorts to the fourth divinatory practice, necromancy (28:7–24), and this oracle explicitly formulates the divine message that was already implied in the first three failed divinations: Saul receives an unfavourable answer (v. 19; the motif of Samuel’s ghost will be treated below). Furthermore, this negative divine response even announces the fate of Saul and his sons. With this final terrible oracle, the communication between Saul and the deity arrives at its nadir. This is the categorical and absolutely final rejection of Saul, who was the chosen of the deity. And it is here that we see the stark and deliberate contrast to the zenith of this scheme, the oracle in 10:21bβ–24, where Saul stands head and shoulders above all the people. Now Saul falls prostrate on the ground (28:20aα) – his lowered position contrasting dramatically, and tellingly, with his former elevated position (see Bodner 2008, 301). Throughout the Saul cycle, his height, his prominent stature, is the distinctive feature of Saul (cf. 9:2) that marks him as an appropriate candidate for king and as the chosen of YHWH (cf. 10:23–24). This same leitmotif – Saul falls down “to the fullness of his height” (28:20aα)99 – denotes his absolutely final, irrevocable rejection by God. 99.  Bodner 2008, 301.

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While Saul obtains an unfavourable answer for himself, his sons, and Israel, the same oracle proves favourable for the Philistines (28:19b). In the previous verses (vv. 17–18), it is also stated that the response which is unfavourable for Saul is favourable for David. Regarding these verses, Anthony Campbell (2003, 283) claims: “As is widely recognized, vv. 16 and 19aβb would convey the message. Verses 17–18 recall Samuel’s part in ch. 15.” In other words, the section in vv. 17–18 is a direct reference to ch. 15. The latter text was definitely composed much later and did not belong to the Saul cycle (see above), and consequently 28:17–18 did not pertain to the Saul cycle either. This is all the more significant for the present investigation, since David is mentioned only here in the whole episode of Saul’s final rejection by God (1 Sam 28:3–25). The dialogue between David and Achish, the Philistine king of Gath in vv. 1–2, is usually considered either to belong to the previous narrative about David in the service of Achish (ch. 27) or to represent an independent unit before the story of Saul’s divinatory attempts.100 As such, it seems that David did not play a part in, was not even mentioned in, the original legendary episode of the witch of Endor. I would argue that in the original legend the Philistines were the enemies and the sole opponents of Saul and Israel, and only the divinely destined fortunes of these two parties were declared in the final oracle (28:19b). David, as an opponent of Saul, was not included in this scheme. The following table summarizes the earlier discussion and the above observations on this issue: The Oracles in 1 Samuel 28 (the earlier, basic form of the text: an episode of the Saul cycle) )‫אלהים‬/(‫שאל ביהוה‬ dream interpretation ║ Urim and Thummim ritual ║ prophecy ║ necromancy unfavourable favourable no response (response) Saul, his sons and Israel Philistines

100.  28:1–2 is regarded as the conclusion of the previous narrative by, e.g., Hertzberg 1964, 211–15; McCarter 1980, 411–16; Payne 1982, 138–40; Smith 2000, 313–18; Andrews and Bergen 2009, 183–85. Bergen (1997, 262–3) and Campbell (2003, 279) consider these two verses to be an independent unit (Campbell regards it as a kind of introduction to chs. 28–31). Bodner (2008, 291) admits that “there are some good reasons…to include 28:1–2 with the preceding chapter,” yet he rather argues for the theory that “28:1–2 signals a new narrative unit.”

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Besides the pattern of consultation of the deity expressed by the term š’l b- (-‫ )שאל ב‬and the motif of failed divination (not obtaining a response from the deity), there is another set of motifs that links ch. 14 and ch. 28 together: the denomination Elohim (‫)אלהים‬, the mention of ‫ארץ‬, and the verb ‫רגז‬. These three elements all occur together in the earthquake scene of ch. 14, as well as in the necromancy scene of ch. 28 (cf. 14:15, and 28:13, 15; cf. also the other instances of ‫ אלהים‬in 14:18, 36, 37, 44, 45, see above). Before trying to decipher the possible connection between these two scenes, it is essential to interpret the meaning of the term Elohim (‫)אלהים‬ in 1 Sam 28:13, for in this verse the usual rendering “God” does not seem to apply to the context. Since it is a necromancy scene with an ‫אשת‬ ‫“( בעלת־אוב‬a woman who is a medium,” NRSV) as a main character (the term ‫ אוב‬is nearly always associated with necromancy),101 several versions and commentators render the term ‫ אלהים‬as “ghost,” “spirit” (cf. JB, NKJV; Hertzberg 1964, 216; Bergen 1997, 264). Indeed, there are instances where the term ‫ אלהים‬does not mean simply “God,” but refers either to “rulers, judges,” “divine ones, superhuman beings,” “angels,” “gods” (in the plural), or “god”/“goddess,” “godlike one [referring to a man]” (in the singular).102 On the other hand, Isa 8:19 equates the phrase “his Elohim” with the word “the dead” and does so in the context of divination (‫אל־אלהיו‬ ‫אל־המתים‬...‫)ידרש‬. In Mic 3:7, the term ‫ אלהים‬is also applied in the context of divination; what is more, it is probably referring to necromancy. From these examples (including 1 Sam 28:13 itself), one may infer that the term Elohim (‫ )אלהים‬can denote the spirits of the dead (cf. Toorn 1999a, 364), and that “Elohim,” used in the sense of “the dead,” often occurs in relation to divination, the consultation of the spirits of the dead.

101.  Cf. Lev 19:31; 20:6, 27; Deut 18:11; 2 Kgs 21:6 (= 2 Chr 33:6); 23:24; Isa 8:19; 29:4. In most of these texts the term ‫ אוב‬is mentioned together with the term ‫“( ידעני‬familiar spirit”), and especially Deut 18:11 and Isa 8:19 indicate that these phrases have to do with necromancy, since in both texts the two terms are clearly associated with the consultation (‫ )דרש‬of the dead (‫)מתים‬. As for the meaning and the etymological background of the term ‫אוב‬, some scholars derive it from ‫אב‬, i.e. “father,” and consequently they presume that the phrase ‫ אוב‬refers to ancestral cult. This etymological explanation is not certain, however. See Lewis 1989, 113 n. 36, and especially Fischer 2001, 30ff. 102.  See BDB p. 43: “rulers, judges” (Exod 21:6; 22:7, 8, 27), “divine ones” (Gen 1:27; Ps 8:6), “angels” (Ps 97:7), “gods” (e.g. Exod 18:11; 22:19; Judg 10:16; Josh 24:2, 16; 1 Sam 4:8), “god”/“goddess” (Deut 1:2; Judg 9:27; 11:24; 1 Sam 5:7; 1 Kgs 11:33; 18:24), “godlike one” (Exod 4:16; 7:1; Ps 45:7).

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The apparition seen in 28:13 is identified as Samuel in the ensuing v. 14. However, P. K. McCarter (1980, 421) has proposed that the figure of Samuel was incorporated into an earlier version of the story. According to him, in all probability “Samuel” was also inserted into other material belonging to the original Saul cycle – namely, chs. 9–10. This insertion at a (narratively) earlier point of the Saul cycle lends support to the theory of McCarter, who maintains that in the original version of the necromancy story Saul consulted an anonymous ghost, while vv. 11–12a, which mention the figure of Samuel, were added to the original text. Still, Anthony Campbell (2003, 283) has argued that “two issues remain unsolved. First, the identity of the one Saul would name – v. 8: was it an earlier figure? Second, the reason Saul ‘knew that it was Samuel’ – v. 14: or was it the earlier figure? Any prophetic redaction has to be more extensive than simply vv. 11–12a.” My view is that Campbell’s questions are well founded, and that the redaction of the early Saul cycle likely extended beyond vv. 11–12a. Two questions have to be answered with reference to the presumed earlier version of the story: How could Saul name an anonymous ghost? Or else, who could that ghost be if not Samuel? In order to provide plausible answers to these problems, it is worthwhile to return to the threefold set of the motifs mentioned earlier – namely, the denomination ‫אלהים‬, the reference to ‫ארץ‬, and the verb ‫ – רגז‬which all occur together both in ch. 14 and in ch. 28. It seems to me potentially useful to examine the occurrences of each of these three elements across the entire Saul cycle. As regards the most significant motif, the denomination Elohim (‫)אלהים‬, it is notable that the term appears in all the main units of the proposed Saul cycle: in ch. 1 the term ‫ אלהים‬occurs in the oracle which divines the birth of Saul with a double pun on his name, i.e. with the root š’l ‫( שאל‬1:17b: ‫ ;)אלהי ישראל יתן את־שאלתך אשר שאלת מעמו‬in chs. 9–11 the diviner is termed ‫( איש האלהים‬9:7, 8, 10) and ‫( איש־אלהים‬9:6),103 and the ‫ רוח־אלהים‬rushes upon Saul and incites him to fight when he has to pass the military testing as a candidate for king (11:6). The latter term, which is typically translated “the spirit of the deity,” is normally associated with the similar phrases that are used to describe the divine inspiration of the judges which urges them to fight.104 In spite of the 103.  The term ‫ אלהים‬occurs in many other verses of chs. 9–10, but, according to my reconstruction, these verses probably did not belong to the Saul cycle: cf. 9:9, 27; 10:3, 5, 7, 9, 10, 18, 19, 26. 104.  On the parallel between the tales of the so-called major judges and the episode of the deliverance of Jabesh-gilead, see, e.g., McCarter 1980, 205–6; Polzin 1993, 110ff.; Brooks 2005, 104.

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parallel between these stories of the warrior judges and the deliverance of Jabesh by Saul, there is a slight but perhaps significant difference in the terms that depict the divine inspiration – all the warrior judges are driven by the “spirit of YHWH,”105 while Saul is incited by the “spirit of God/ Elohim.” The denomination ‫ אלהים‬also occurs in the earthquake scene of ch. 14, where it appears in the phrase ‫חרדת אלהים‬, a term denoting either the “shuddering of Elohim”106 (i.e. a depiction of the wrath of Elohim) or the “trembling, quaking of (terror inspired by) Elohim” (cf. section 3.3.1.3). Finally, in 28:15, Saul refers back to the previous, failed oracle(s), claiming that “‫ אלהים‬has turned away from me and answers me no more, either by prophets or by dreams,” and in 28:13 the term ‫אלהים‬ designates the apparition which gives the oracle that reveals the demise of Saul (cf. v. 19). It is important to note that each of the aforementioned instances of the denomination Elohim (‫ )אלהים‬marks a crucial point in the units of the presumed Saul cycle, and in all these occurrences the term appears in the context of the communication/contact between Saul and the deity, in most cases with reference to divination. As for the military inspiration of Saul – the “spirit of Elohim rushes upon” him – this phrase implies direct contact between Saul and the deity, possibly even physical contact with the spirit of Elohim. As for the “shuddering of Elohim,” this phenomenon – an earthquake – probably communicates the wrath of Elohim to Saul (see above). Regarding the word ‫ארץ‬, which also occurs in both ch. 14 and ch. 28, in 28:13 it probably denotes not only the very ground from which the Elohim come(s) up, but also refers to the underworld, which is a meaning often carried by the term ‫ארץ‬.107 Concerning the verb ‫“( רגז‬quake, be agitated, perturbed, enraged”), McCarter (1980, 421) draws attention to a parallel text, Isa 14:9, which reads “Sheol beneath quakes” (‫)שאול מתחת רגזה‬. Notably, in both 1 Sam 28:15 and Isa 14:9 the verb ‫ רגז‬is used in reference to the underworld and its inhabitants, which quake and are disturbed (Isa 14:9b says that “the shades” are roused). McCarter (1980, 421) also mentions that the “Phoenician equivalent of the verb [‫ ]רגז‬often refers to the violation of tombs in sepulchral inscriptions.”108 As has been mentioned, in 1 Sam 14:15, the term ‫( רגז‬as well as the phrase ‫ )חרדת אלהים‬presumably alludes 105.  Cf. Judg 3:10; 6:34; 11:29; 13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14. 106.  See McCarter 1980, 240. 107.  See McCarter 1980, 421. Cf. Job 10:21, 22; Ps 139:15; Isa 44:23 (see BDB, 76 referring to the phrase irṣit la târat, “land without return,” in the Descent of Ishtar). 108.  McCarter refers to the fifth-century epitaph of King Tabnit of Sidon, KAI 13.4,6,7.

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to supernatural wrath that manifests itself in the earthquake (‫)ותרגז הארץ‬. In my opinion, such wrath is expressed in 1 Sam 28:15 against the person, Saul, who disturbs the occupants of the underworld (cf. ‫ רגז‬meaning “enrage, provoke” in Job 12:6 and Ezek 16:43,109 in both cases referring to divine wrath). Summarizing the above, in the necromancy scene of ch. 28, Elohim (‫ )אלהים‬come(s) up from the earth (‫)מן־הארץ‬, that is, from the underworld, and this picture is described two verses later as “disquieting,” “enraging” (‫)רגז‬, that is, “arousing” the wrath of the inhabitant of the underworld (cf. vv. 13 and 15). In the earthquake scene of ch. 14, the very same three elements occur together: in v. 15 we read that the earth (‫ )ארץ‬quakes (‫רגז‬, presumably alluding to rage as well), which phenomenon expresses the wrath of Elohim (‫)חרדת אלהים‬. To my mind, it seems very probable that, within the Saul cycle, the three motifs (Elohim, the earth, quake/disturb/ enrage), which appear together in the necromancy scene of ch. 28, refer back to the identical set of motifs appearing in the earthquake scene of ch. 14. The parallel structure – the same set of motifs shared by both the earthquake scene and the necromancy episode – gives rise to the supposition that the Elohim appearing to Saul in 28:13 is identical with the Elohim involved previously in the earthquake scene (14:15). While Elohim is a key motif in both these episodes of the presumed Saul cycle, no trace of Samuel can be discovered in the earthquake scene (actually in the whole of ch. 14). Therefore, it is reasonable to surmise that in the parallel necromancy scene of ch. 28, too, which refers back to 14:15, only the so-called Elohim originally appeared, the figure of Samuel being secondarily incorporated into this episode, as McCarter has proposed. Other observations also support this theory: the figure of Elohim appearing in 28:13 is identified with Samuel only in the subsequent verse (v. 14). Moreover, the term ‫ אלהים‬is followed by a plural form of the verb ‫ עלה‬in v. 13 (‫עלים‬...‫אלהים‬, “Elohim…coming up” – plural participle),110 whereas a singular form of the same verb refers to Samuel in the next verse (‫שמואל‬...‫איש זקן עלה‬, “an old man coming up…Samuel” – singular participle). The plural form of the verb indicates that the term Elohim signifies a plural subject in v. 13111 – that is, not only one shade,

109.  Cf., e.g., NRSV, and BDB, 919. 110.  See Schmidt 1994, 210. 111.  Cf. Smith 2000, 321. Smith remarks that the term ‫ אלהים‬is followed by a plural verb, and that “Because the word is plural, Jewish tradition held that Moses appeared along with Samuel.”

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but gods112/spirits of the dead113 ascend from the underworld in the original version of the story.114 This proposal can provide a solution for the problematic issues raised by the theory of McCarter. As has been noted, he has argued that an anonymous ghost appeared in the original story, that the figure of Samuel was later incorporated into this text by the insertion of vv. 11–12a, and that, in other verses, Samuel simply replaced the anonymous ghost (1980, 421). Yet then questions arise about how Saul could name an anonymous ghost, or who that earlier ghost figure could be. On the basis of the above analysis, I would maintain that it was not one anonymous ghost, but in fact plural “gods”/“spirits of the dead,” that occurred in the earlier version of the story. Furthermore, all the material clearly referring to a single ghost (the motifs of naming and of recognizing that spirit) belongs to the later editorial insertion about Samuel (e.g. vv. 8bβ, 14 – but, in my view, the inclusion is even more extensive in the first part of the necromancy scene, comprising vv. 8bβ–12a, 14, see below). A question naturally arises about what sort of figures these “gods”/ “spirits of the dead” are in 28:13. It has already been noted above that many different characters can be denoted by the denomination Elohim in various biblical texts. It has also been pointed out that the term can designate “the dead,” the “spirits of the dead,” often in relation to divination, necromancy (besides 1 Sam 28:13, cf. Isa 8:19 and Mic 3:7). Further characteristics of this kind of Elohim may be grasped if one takes into account that the spirits of the dead are denoted by other terms as well, and the notion of Sheol, ‫“( ארץ‬earth”), that is, the netherworld, is associated with other denominations. Like the term Elohim, such terms as Rephaim, melāḵîm (‫מלכים‬, i.e. “kings”) and other designations for princes, rulers, leaders, and the term gibbôrîm (‫גבורים‬, i.e. “warriors,” “heroes”) also appear in various allusions to the underworld (cf. Isa 14:9; 26:14, 19; 57:9; Job 26:5–6; Ps 88:11[10]; Ezek 32:21, 27, 29). The phrases ilnym, ilm (“divine ones,” “gods,” cf. Elohim), mlkm (cf. melāḵîm),115 and rpum 112.  See Bodner 2008, 297. 113.  Cf. Toorn 1999a, 364. 114.  Schmidt (1994, 210) mentions that the plural participle may be “merely a grammatical plural like ḥayyîm in ’elōhîm ḥayyîm, a designation for Yahweh in 1 Sam. 17.26.” Nevertheless, I would prefer the plain solution that this plural participle (‫ )עלים‬is a real plural, especially in view of the fact that ‫ חיים‬is not a verb but an adjective, the plural form of the adjective ‫חי‬, “alive,” “living.” 115.  Cf. the theory of George C. Heider (1985) and that of John Day (1989), who argue that the Akkadian Malik and the Ugaritic mlk are in fact identical with the presumed biblical Molech, an underworld deity to whom child sacrifices were offered. Although this

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(cf. Rephaim) occur in Ugaritic texts in relation to the dead (mtm) and the netherworld, and it is often supposed that the terms mlkm and rpum designate deified royal ancestors.116 (As for a possible sign of ancestral cult, cf. the term ‫ אוב‬in 1 Sam 28:7, 8; see n. 101 above.) Moreover, some of the rpum are specified as warriors (cf. KTU 1.22 i:8–10), and are also associated with the zrm, “heroes,” in the same Ugaritic text (cf. the biblical gibbôrîm).117 Although the particulars found in biblical and some ancient Near Eastern texts show only a scanty picture, they may shed some light on the possible features of the “spirits of the dead” referred to as Elohim in 1 Sam 28:13. And these possible characteristics may be all the more significant, since the entire Saul cycle concerns the life of a king (‫מלך‬, cf. 10:24; 11:15; 28:13) and warrior/hero (‫גבור‬, see above, cf. 1 Sam 9:1118 and 2 Sam 1:19, 21, 22, 25, 27119): both motifs are leading themes throughout the cycle, and it is precisely Saul, the warrior king, who resorts to necromancy, the consultation of the Elohim in ch. 28 (cf. especially v. 13, where we find the term ‫מלך‬, “king”). As I have argued above, the parallel structure, the use of the same set of motifs (Elohim, ‫ארץ‬, ‫ )רגז‬in both the earthquake scene and the necromancy episode, give rise to the supposition that the Elohim appearing to Saul in 28:13 is/are identical with the Elohim involved previously in the earthquake scene (14:15) – and thus the necromancy episode directly refers back to the earthquake scene. Consequently, in the earthquake scene, the phrase ‫חרדת אלהים‬, “the wrath of Elohim,” may have originally referred to the wrath of the “gods,” “spirits of the dead.” This understanding is also supported by the possible additional meaning of the term ‫“( ארץ‬earth”) in 14:15: the possibility arises that in the earthquake scene the term ‫ארץ‬ alludes to the underworld as well, as in the necromancy episode. The earthquake itself can be easily interpreted as a chthonic movement, and, as has been touched upon above, the netherworld and its denizens are portrayed thesis has not gained wide acceptance among biblical scholars, the underworld character of these Akkadian and Ugaritic figures is usually accepted; cf., e.g., Müller 1999, 538–59; Noort 2002, 10. 116.  See, e.g., Rouillard 1999, 692; Heider 1985, 128–33. Cf. the cult of malikū and šarrānu, i.e. deceased princes and kings in Mari texts; see Schmidt 1994, 31–34. 117.  Schmidt 1994, 87. 118.  As has been mentioned above, the entire cycle may have commenced with the remark in 9:1 that the father of Saul was a gibbôr ḥayil (‫)גבור חיל‬. 119.  I have touched upon this issue earlier in this study: in 2 Sam 1:19–27, David sings a lament for Saul and his son Jonathan, as it were a summary of their lives, and they are depicted in this lament as absolutely typical warriors, heroes, the representatives of the archetypal gibbôrîm.

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through the motif of quaking in some biblical texts (cf. Isa 14:9; Ezek 26:15, 16, 18; 31:16). Most interestingly, these texts and Matt 27:51–53 (as well as Matt 28:2, 6) even associate the descent and the rising/ascent of the dead with the motifs of quaking and earthquake. In light of these interrelated motifs, it may be easier to interpret the scene in 1 Sam 28:13: here we have the spirits of the dead coming up, that is, rising from the earth/ underworld, an event that is construed as “disturbing,” literally “causing to quake,” the dead (v. 15: ‫ רגז‬in Hiphil). This set of motifs in the necromancy episode may refer back to the earthquake and the “shuddering of Elohim” in 1 Sam 14:15. Here the term ‫“( רגז‬quake”) along with the phrase ‫חרדת‬ ‫“( אלהים‬shuddering of Elohim”) presumably alludes to supernatural wrath that manifests itself in the earthquake (‫)ותרגז הארץ‬, as has already been pointed out. In the presumed Saul cycle, the earthquake is the place where the Elohim, i.e. possibly the “gods,” “spirits of the dead,” express(es) this supernatural wrath. Since this wrath will not be appeased, it will arise in its full strength against Saul in the necromancy scene (cf. 28:15, the verb ‫ רגז‬in Hiphil can mean “enrage,” “provoke”; in the present version, the shade of Samuel is disturbed, provoked). The gods/spirits of the dead arise (‫עלים‬...‫ )אלהים‬from the earth/underworld (v. 13), “quaking with rage” (‫רגז‬, v. 15), against Saul, and the subsequent oracle clearly announces the demise of Saul, his sons, and the army of Israel. Although the term Elohim is definitely a plural term in 1 Sam 28:13, this does not imply that it could not at the same time refer to a distinct deity. Elohim does mean God or it can refer to a certain god in many biblical texts (see above). In this respect, one may also recall, for instance, the usage of the Ugaritic terms il and rpu. The noun il can have a generic meaning, “god,” and consequently it can be used in the plural (ilm, i.e. “gods”). However, the same term denotes a distinct deity as well: Il(u) is the head of the Ugaritic pantheon, the head of the Ugaritic gods, the ilm.120 The term rpum is usually considered to be a name for the deified royal ancestors (cf. the biblical Rephaim), and the so-called rpu has been identified with various deities (with Ilu, Balu, and Molech).121 But, as Heider notes, “whatever their view of rpu’s identity, most scholars suggest that he is the divine head of the rpum” (1985, 124). So, how to interpret the term Elohim in 1 Sam 28? As has been argued above, in all probability the term Elohim means “gods,” “spirits of the dead.” Yet the very same term can denote “God,” a distinct deity. Moreover, in v. 15, Saul speaks of Elohim using the term in the singular 120.  Cf., e.g., Herrmann 1999, 274–75; Rouillard 1999, 692. 121.  See Heider 1985, 122 n. 237.

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(cf. the following verb ‫ סר‬in the singular). So here Saul definitely refers to a distinct deity, Elohim, that is God.122 Saul states “God (Elohim/‫)אלהים‬ has turned away from me and answers me no more, either by prophets or by dreams.” Saul refers back to the events reported in v. 6, where, notably, the deity is termed YHWH. Saul thus identifies God/Elohim with YHWH. As Saul relates, he has made considerable efforts to consult God/ Elohim, but he could not get an answer either by prophets or by dreams. Therefore, he finally resorts to another method, necromancy, in order to consult Elohim (cf. v. 13). From all these one may infer that it cannot be excluded that Saul and the medium woman reckon God/Elohim into the group of “gods” termed Elohim in v. 13. The surmise cannot be dismissed either that God/Elohim is regarded as the head of the Elohim (“gods”) by Saul and the medium – all the more so, since the oracle that Saul finally receives is undoubtedly attributed to YHWH, who is identified with God/ Elohim earlier in the text (cf. vv. 6, 15). Verse 19b reads: “YHWH will also give the army of Israel into the hands of the Philistines.” (Although it is widely admitted that vv. 17–18 are a later insertion, v. 19aβb is usually taken as the end of the oracle in the original text, see above.) All in all, Saul resorts to necromancy, he consults Elohim (v. 13), and, in so doing, he refers to God/Elohim (v. 15) and also refers back to the failed divinations reported in v. 6, thereby identifying God/Elohim with YHWH. In the end, he receives an unfavourable response, an oracle from YHWH (v. 19). The point is whether it is possible to consider such a theory that the deity named Elohim (“God”) and identified with YHWH might have been one of or even the head of the chthonic “gods” termed Elohim according to the ancient Saul cycle. I would conclude that while the Saul cycle does not provide sufficient evidence to prove this proposal, it does not seem to be a completely unfounded theory. One may reject this hypothesis on the basis of the formerly widespread view that in mainstream pre-exilic Yahwism, YHWH was thought to have nothing to do with the underworld;123 however, I share the opinion of those scholars who maintain that this view is too simplifying, and that there are certain early biblical texts which give clear proof of YHWH’s power over the netherworld (cf. Amos 9:1–2; 1 Sam 2:6, etc.).124

122.  Cf., e.g., NRSV. 123.  See the list of such remarks by prominent scholars produced by Nicholas Tromp (1969, 197–202). 124.  See, e.g., Hays 2009, 181–88. G. Eberhardt (2007) outlines a four-phase religiohistorical development of the extension of YHWH’s authority over the netherworld.

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Summarizing the above argumentation, the earliest layer of 1 Sam 28 tends to suggest that necromancy is an alternative method of divination which is parallel to the other divinatory practices. The chthonic gods/ spirits of the dead termed Elohim/‫ אלהים‬can be consulted, and even the deity named God/Elohim/‫ אלהים‬and identified with YHWH is somehow involved in this divination; the oracle that Saul receives by means of this method is an oracle of YHWH. Strangely enough, the basic approach did not alter in spite of the probably extensive modifications and insertions that were made into the text: even in the present text, necromancy is presented as an oracular technique that is parallel to other divinatory practices (dream interpretation, Urim and Thummim ritual, prophecy, cf. vv. 6, 15), and, most startlingly, it is not disputed that necromancy is an effective divinatory method – it does work, according to the text (cf. Fischer 2001, 38). Just as the figure of Samuel was incorporated into/superimposed onto the earlier version of the story, so too was the negative presentation of necromancy. Indeed, consultation of the dead is severely censured in Deuteronomy, and the condemnation of this practice is one of the crucial tenets of the Deuteronomistic theology (cf. Deut 18:9–12, especially v. 11; 2 Kgs 21:6; 23:24). And yet, it is notable that throughout the whole of 1 Samuel, it is only in ch. 28, in vv. 3, 9, 21, that we find reference to Saul’s banishing necromancers and mediums (‫ )האבות ואת־הידעני‬from the land. Brian Schmidt has pointed out that even the two terms ‫ אוב‬and ‫“( ידעני‬necromancer” and “medium”) occur together in Deuteronomistic and possibly post-Deuteronomistic passages (cf. Deut 18:11; 2 Kgs 21:6; 23:24; Isa 8:19).125 Given these factors, I would tend to accept the conclusion of Michael Kleiner (1995, 214–15), who attributes 1 Sam 28:3 to the Deuteronomistic layer of the narrative in ch. 28. (Kleiner also postulates that within the Deuteronomistic redaction, the figure of Samuel and such verses as v. 19 were added latterly to the original story). So, we may wonder, why Saul has to disguise himself in v. 8? Does this basic element of the text make sense without the information conveyed in v. 3, namely that he had banished the necromancers and mediums from the land?126 A remark of Keith Bodner, however, provides a plausible answer to these questions. Bodner mentions that “Endor…the medium’s village is located behind enemy lines. Thus any visit would be a dangerous one…. Endor’s location may help to explain Saul’s unprecedented actions: ‘And 125.  See Schmidt 1994, 140, 206. 126.  According to Nihan (2003, 38), this is a crucial problem with the theory of Kleiner.

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Saul disguised himself, and dressed in other clothes’ ” (2008, 294). Even in the presumed earlier version of the story, the Philistine threat afforded sufficient reason for Saul to disguise himself when attempting to go behind enemy lines. Still, even in the presumed original text, necromancy appears to be an extraordinary method of divination. It functions as the last resort for Saul, a divinatory technique which is parallel to the other oracular processes, but which is not among the usually applied methods for consulting the deity before a battle (cf. 28:6: dream interpretation, Urim and Thummim ritual, and prophecy are presented as the usual divinatory practices in such a case). Saul has to make considerable efforts, he has to take a very great risk, in order to obtain a divine response through necromancy. This presentation of necromancy may suggest some kind of negative connotation attached to this practice even in the original text (i.e. even before the postulated Deuteronomistic redaction). In the same vein, the above suggestion that by resorting to necromancy Saul evokes the destructive wrath of the spirits and even God/Elohim, also signals negative evaluation of the practice. Fisher even claims that Saul disturbs the denizens of the underworld in order to manipulate his fate. As a later parallel text, 15:23, states, trying to manipulate the divine actually equates to rebellion against the deity (Fischer 2001, 38). However, it is noteworthy that the consultation of the dead is nowhere described as an ineffective method of divination – neither in 1 Sam 28, nor in the Deuteronomistic texts mentioned above (although in the latter texts it is severely condemned). In 1 Sam 28, necromancy is actually depicted as a very dangerous – albeit effective – divinatory technique, which, maybe necessarily, results in utter destruction. Another interesting issue is the contradiction that can be found between 28:14bβ and v. 20aα. It is reported in v. 14bβ that “he [i.e. Saul] bowed with his face to the ground, and did obeisance” (when he realized that the apparition was the shade of Samuel). Yet in v. 20aα it is stated that “immediately Saul fell full length on the ground” (having heard the fatal oracle) – this despite the fact he had already bowed to the ground at the beginning of the scene in the presence of the shade of Samuel. This contradiction seems to indicate that v. 14bβ was probably inserted into the original text. Moreover, I would maintain that the whole of v. 14 is an insertion and the figure of Samuel did not occur in the earlier version of the story (see above). According to my reconstruction, the entire section comprising 28:8bβ–12a is secondary: in this part of the text the leitmotif is Saul’s banishment of necromancers and mediums from the land, which is probably a Deuteronomistic theme (cf. especially v. 9, see above). In addition, Saul’s disguise is associated with an assumed earlier action he

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performed (cf. vv. 9 and 12), while in the original version of the story he presumably uses disguise in order to conceal himself from the Philistines, to get behind the enemy lines. Yet, in this original version, the medium quickly sees through his disguise (cf. v. 12b), possibly due to the kingly height of Saul, as the text suggests127 ‒ note that his prominent height is a leitmotif throughout the Saul cycle. However, in the probably interpolated section, 28:8bβ–12a, the figure of Samuel occurs (cf. v. 12a), and the motif of naming one particular spirit appears (vv. 8bβ, 11) – both of which are secondary elements (see above). As has been noted earlier, vv. 17–18 are usually regarded as inserted verses. Furthermore, in my opinion, the final section of the story (vv. 20b–25a, except for the closing remark in v. 25b) was also added to the original narrative. Here, the probably Deuteronomistic theme of banishing mediums continues (cf. v. 21, see above), and the entire section concerns the motif of fasting in military context (before/during a battle), which motif corresponds to the one in ch. 14 (cf. 14:24–30, see above). In ch. 14, the story of Saul’s curse (Jonathan’s sacrilege), including the motif of fasting in a military context, is presumably secondary – it did not belong to the Saul cycle. The same theme, fasting, seems to recur in the final section of ch. 28, and thus it strengthens the supposition that this section was later added to the original story in ch. 28. In other words, like the story of Saul’s curse, 28:20b–25a did not belong to the postulated original form of the Saul cycle. Still, however much material may have been inserted into the original text, the presentation of King Saul essentially did not alter128 – even those elements that are identified as later additions did not change his portrayal. Within the basic story, the central message is Saul’s rejection, which is conveyed by the first three failed divinatory attempts (v. 6) and the necromancy scene. In the case of the divinatory attempts, the failure itself – not receiving a divine answer – expresses rejection. Saul is, in fact, fully aware of the meaning and significance of these failures; he knows that the deity has turned away from him (cf. v. 15), and in his exasperation he finally resorts to necromancy. The oracle received by this method merely verbalizes the divine rejection of Saul that was already revealed when he could not secure a divine response by three different oracular techniques (yet the above-mentioned interpretation of necromancy as a quasi-rebellion against the deity can explain why the divine 127.  Note the use of the term “king” in v. 13. and the reference to “his height,” ‫קומתו‬, in v. 20aα. 128.  On this issue, I disagree with the theory of Kleiner (1995, 208–9), who claims that only the final version of the narrative turns against Saul.

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rejection is expressed in such a vehement form, actually in a fit of divine rage). Through divination the deity declares that Saul and his sons cannot avoid their fate (v. 19). The mention of his sons is another link between chs. 14 and 28 – besides the various shared elements noted above – since in ch. 14 the son of Saul, Jonathan, brings about calamity by his disobedience, and Saul becomes entangled in it. This series of events initiated by Jonathan and promoted by Saul results in the breakdown of communication between King Saul and the deity (cf. the series of failed divinations in 14:37, and 28:6). Finally, Saul receives an oracle (28:19) that actually puts the divine rejection into words, an oracle which is unfavourable for himself, his sons, and Israel, and which is, on the other hand, favourable for the Philistines. According to my reconstruction, all these divinations and other motifs occurred already in the original Saul cycle. Notably, David is not mentioned in the original version of the text, since 28:17–18 are to be considered secondary material (see above). The Oracles in 1 Samuel 28 (the earlier, basic form of the text: an episode of the Saul cycle) )‫אלהים‬/(‫שאל ביהוה‬ dream interpretation ║ Urim and Thummim ritual ║ prophecy ║ necromancy unfavourable favourable no response (response) Saul, his sons and Israel Philistines

In 1 Sam 28, the four succeeding oracles before the battle convey unfavourable divine verdict (divine judgment) concerning Saul, his sons, and Israel. Finally, these unfavourable oracles come true in the battle of Gilboa, which brings about the demise of Saul and his three sons, and the crushing defeat of Israel (1 Sam 31). It has been noted that “chapter 28’s prophecy of Saul’s death finds its conclusion only later in chapter 31. Thus chapter 28 ‘interrupts’ the natural flow of the story moving from chapter 27 to 29–30, just as chapters 29–30 ‘interrupt’ the natural progression by which events flow from chapter 28 to chapter 31.”129 Chapter 31 relates the fulfilment of the oracles in ch. 28. As such, I would infer from all this that the presumed Saul cycle continued and was concluded with the events narrated in ch. 31, the battle of Gilboa. After he has been rejected by his God, the story of Saul ends with his ignominious death foretold in the oracle that is originated from his God. 129.  Polzin 1993, 217. Cf. also, e.g., McCarter 1980, 422–23, referring to other commentators.

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3.3.2. David In the foregoing, I have attempted to delineate a certain basic structure that portrays the life of King Saul within the first book of Samuel. The leitmotif, the core of this basic story, of the so-called Saul cycle, appears to be the theme of divination, communication with the deity. Within this reconstructed Saul cycle David is mentioned only once, in the necromancy scene before the battle of Gilboa (28:17). As has already been discussed, however, this reference to David is clearly a later insertion, since in the original story the oracle concerned only the result of the imminent battle, the demise of Saul and his family, and the victory of the Philistines (cf. ch. 31). According to this scheme, the hero, Saul, was already in decline, having been rejected by God, while the Philistines were the party favoured by the deity. Yet it seems that, at some later stage, the figure of David was added to this scheme as the one now favoured by the deity against the declining hero, Saul. The Oracle Received through Necromancy in 1 Samuel 28 )‫אלהים‬/‫שאל (ביהוה‬ necromancy (1 Sam 28:13–19) unfavourable favourable Saul, his sons and Israel Philistines Saul David

On the other hand, the several episodes in which David consults the deity before battle – 1 Sam 22:10; 23:2, 4; 30:8; 2 Sam 2:1; 5:19, 23–24 – can rightly be seen as independent from the reconstructed legend of Saul. Interestingly, while the Saul legend presents a variety of form and content of oracles, communication with the deity, the divinations initiated by David all follow the same pattern. According to the simple scheme, David is always eager to inquire of God’s will in a momentous, usually military, situation, and the deity always responds favourably to him. However, after David is officially installed as king and defeats the Philistines who defeated Saul (cf. 2 Sam 2 and 5), there is no further mention of him consulting the deity. The only other occasion when David is said to seek advice through formal divination is in the episode of the final extermination of the Saul dynasty in 2 Sam 21 (cf. v. 1). Therefore, it seems as if in the so-called History of David’s Rise (which is often considered to encompass the major part of 1 Sam 16:14–2 Sam 5),130 the divinatory 130.  On the issue, see, e.g., Grønbaek 1971; McCarter 2000; Dietrich and Naumann 2000.

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scenes had been constructed in order to complement the oracle scheme that had formed the basis of the Saul cycle. Now David was contrasted with Saul; the favourable oracles David received were set against the unfavourable oracles of the end of the Saul cycle. In 2 Sam 21:1, David’s last consultation of the deity completes this picture: the unfavourable answer YHWH gives concerning Saul and “his house” reinforces the rejection of the entire Saulide dynasty by using the very same motif, divination, on which the presumed Saul cycle was built. 2 Samuel 21 belongs to the Appendix or Epilogue of the books of Samuel (2 Sam 21–24), and more recently there has been a growing recognition that this concluding part of the books of Samuel probably serves as a conscious conclusion, the theological interpretation and summary of the books of Samuel as whole.131 In this light, it is all the more significant that this final section begins with the reinforcement of the rejection of the Saulides that is expressed precisely by an oracle. This motif seems to refer back to the major leitmotif of the Saul cycle – divination, communication with the deity and its breakdown, the final unfavourable divine verdict on Saul and his dynasty. On the other hand, in this theological interpretation of David’s career, the theme of divination also accentuates that, in contrast to Saul, David is most ready to consult his deity in a momentous situation, just as he was at the beginning of his career, a period related in the History of David’s Rise. 3.4. Conclusion to Chapter 3 From the above discussion I would conclude that on the basis of his name, which is derived from the verb š’l (‫)שאל‬, meaning “to ask, enquire,” the figure of Saul seems to have been strongly associated with divinatory rituals, which can be understood as primary organizational forms of cultural memory. These divinatory rituals conveyed a certain meaning, namely the positive or negative relation to, communication with, the deity. The communication with God expressed by the divinatory rituals served as a leading motif in the formation of the hero legend that related the rise and fall of Saul and his family (cf. the core material in 1 Sam 1; 9–11; 13–14; 28; 31). On the other hand, this legend, either in oral or in written form, represented another level of cultural memory than the actually performed rituals. All the elements of this presumed hero legend, even the tragic failure, were set in the military sphere typical of heroes. Like

131.  See, e.g., Ziegler 2008, 252–53; Tsumura 2007, 67; and especially Klement 2000.

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every folklore story, this reconstructed legend is a coherent narrative, and it seems to be independent from, and comprehensible without, the figures of David and Samuel. Thus, this is another reconstruction which supports the theory of an independent and coherent Saul cycle. This material is full of leitmotifs which are evidently folklore themes (miraculous conception, heroic/kingly height, “male Cinderella,” etc.); nevertheless, it cannot be excluded that these folk motifs were deliberately employed and the hero legend was composed by an (unknown) author – in other words, that the Saul cycle was not a genuine folk legend. Yet, it is difficult to delineate such a political background against which it would have seemed useful for an author to construct a story of the downfall of a great hero, a warrior king. The only plausible solution of the problem could be that the Saul cycle may originally have been invented by a pro-Davidic author. However, this supposition is far from convincing, since it seems that David was probably not even mentioned in the original legend, which exclusively concerned the rise and fall of Saul, the warrior king. The formation of the legend may have taken place sometime after the death of Saul in the north, where he had reigned. In the last divinatory scene of this presumed legendary story (1 Sam 28:13, 15, 19), the Philistines were the party favoured by the deity against Saul, his sons, and Israel. However, it seems that at a later stage the figure of David was inserted into this scheme (v. 17) in an attempt to cast him as the new hero, who was now favoured by the deity against the declining one, Saul. This positive portrayal of David is reinforced by the several consultations of the deity he is reported to initiate in the so-called History of David’s Rise. These divinations follow a simple pattern – David is always eager to seek the divine will and the divine answers are always favourable for David. It appears that these references to the oracles David receives complete the scheme of the Saul cycle, which is based on the leitmotif of divination, communication with the deity. In the final version of the text, the presentation of Saul and of Jonathan was only slightly modified, while the basic structure of the old legendary scheme, as far as it can be perceived, was retained. This reinterpretation of the presumed old legend, most of all the insertion of the figure of David into the scheme, must have taken place at the level of the written text, probably with the intention of serving some political and religious propaganda objectives. A ritual, a popular legend, and a tendentiously constructed written text all represent different forms of cultural memory, but they can be built on and complement one another, as I have tried to demonstrate.

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The Saul cycle relates the life of an exemplary warrior king, and thus it obviously continues the key themes of Judges – namely, war, warriors, and heroes. As a warrior hero, Saul is endowed with the divine spirit, and even in this respect he resembles the warrior judges. Saul succeeds them, and, in fact, he represents the archetypal hero who both in his physical qualities and in his special relationship with the deity excels over all the other heroes. He is an ideal warrior through and through. Saul shares all these characteristics with Samson, the superhero of Judges. Saul’s exceptional connection with the deity, his communication with God, constitutes the very core of the Saul cycle, and the motif of divination combined with the verb š’l (‫ )שאל‬expressively demonstrates how this communication suffers a radical change. As a result of the divine favour expressed through an oracle, Saul is elevated to king, more precisely a warrior king; yet the breakdown of communication with God eventually brings him low. Like Jephthah’s daughter and Samson, Saul dies a violent, tragic death, and this heroic fate is the exemplary consummation of a heroic life and is especially characteristic of the greatest heroes. However, unlike Jephthah’s daughter and Samson, Saul does not intensify his relationship with the deity through his heroic death; he does not offer his life to YHWH. On the contrary, Saul’s tragic death only seals his estrangement from the deity, and it confirms his final rejection. All in all, the Saul cycle relates the downfall of one of the greatest heroes, and his demise in its heroic grandeur is indeed exemplary. The fate of Saul actually marks and powerfully illustrates the decline of the heroic age. On the other hand, the figure of David, his successor, is set in sharp contrast to Saul in the divinatory scenes analyzed above: these texts emphasize most clearly that David is a hero who does not lose contact with the deity. The figure of David has been secondarily attached to the Saul cycle, and he, albeit one of the greatest heroes himself, represents a very different heroic type. David’s life does not centre around warfare, and he embodies such characteristics as astuteness and prudence in speech. It is a greatly stressed point in his characterization that his distinctive features do not include prominent height or superhuman strength, features that were typical of those most excellent “classical” heroes, Samson and Saul. David markedly differs from the greatest heroes of the heroic age in another point – namely, that, unlike them, David does not die a heroic death but founds a long-lasting dynasty. Being likewise the last military leader (and the last king) bestowed with the divine spirit, David seems to conclude the era of the great warrior heroes.

C l os i n g R ef l ecti ons

This study has dealt with three narratives of the heroic tradition preserved in the early historical books of the Hebrew Bible (Judges, Samuel): the story of Jephthah’s daughter (Judg 11:29–40, within the Jephthah cycle, Judg 10:6–12:7), the Samson narrative (Judg 13–16), and the so-called Saul cycle (1 Sam 1; 9–11; 13–14; 28; 31). It also touched upon some texts concerning David. Analyzing the texts mainly from the perspective of cultural memory, this study focused on the motifs, symbols, rites (and entire myths or folklore/legendary stories) which lie at the core of the present biblical narratives. It has been pointed out that some basic notions and rites in these stories can be interpreted within a binary system, within the system of holiness (namely, the positive and negative sides of it), with regard to divine favour and disfavour. Sacrifice and dedication by vow in the story of Jephthah’s daughter, and the apodoses, that is, the divine answers, of divinatory rituals in the Saul cycle, can all be construed with reference to the positive and negative aspects of holiness. Even the central leitmotif of the Samson cycle, the hair motif, has been shown to be the sign of divine presence/divine favour (and the loss of hair marks divine desertion/disfavour). Similarly, within the story of Jephthah’s daughter, the female ritual has its centre in the idea of entire self-dedication to the deity – namely, entering the positive divine sphere. The systematization of these notions and rites has promoted a better understanding of each text, and it has facilitated the interpretation of the texts in a larger context, and in relation to one another. Having identified the basic motifs, rites, the presumed “original” myths, folklore/legendary stories, I have concluded that most of the primary material was preserved. It basically remained unaltered, and became only slightly modified (and/or some material was inserted, added to the primary stories and sets of motifs). Some probable theological reinterpretations have been discerned in the narratives: for instance, in the story of Jephthah’s daughter, the motif of marriage with the deity presumably formed part of the basic mythological/folklore tale, but, according to the present biblical text, actual marriage between the heroine and the deity



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is definitely excluded. However, the marriage motif was not eliminated completely from the narrative; it seems to have been reinterpreted at a different level, in a spiritual sense (cf. the theological meaning of the motif e.g. in relation to YHWH and his people). Besides, in comparison with the mythological/folklore version of his story, although the traces of Samson’s mythological (semi-)divine origin were not deleted from the biblical narrative – and he actually regards himself as such a hero – Samson gets buried by his earthly father (Manoah, cf. Judg 16:31). As such, he does not become deified in the manner of Heracles. Just as in the present plot, in the original folklore/mythological story Samson probably had to suffer and offer his life to the deity. As for the Saul cycle, the figure of David was inserted into the final version of the story, the purpose being to show him in contrast to the declining hero, Saul. Even without this addition, in the presumed basic folk cycle, King Saul utterly failed. From all of this, it seems that the core of the folklore/legendary narratives was not altered – it was retained and simply re-attuned at some points. Within the context of heroic tradition, and that of the Deuteronomistic History, the figure of Samson and that of Saul strongly resemble each other in many respects, although there are some differences in characterization between the two heroes. Furthermore, both Jephthah and Saul embody the figure of the hero (the great warrior) who makes his way from “below” to “above.” Yet Jephthah does not lose his position, and he keeps his relationship to the deity, albeit at an extremely great cost: his fate – the loss of his one and only child – can effectively deter anyone from vowing a human sacrifice. Nevertheless, according to his biblical presentation, Jephthah finally proves to be respectful to the holy sphere. The same is true of Samson, at least at the end of his story: he re-establishes his relationship with the deity, and even entirely fulfils his divine mission; he offers himself to the deity. Saul, however, fails as a hero and a king, and his communication with the deity, the basis of his whole life and career, breaks down. In the end, he is disfavoured and smitten by the deity. On the other hand, Samson and Jephthah’s daughter embody the hero/ heroine who sacrifices himself/herself, offers his/her life to the deity. As an offering, they “become YHWH’s” (and, as such, they belong to the positive side of holiness). According to the reconstruction presented in this study, the story of Jephthah’s daughter and that of Samson form the zenith of the entire book of Judges, and indeed the heroic tradition: they are the greatest human heroine and hero respectively, who have attained the summit of human heroism. Moreover, the figure of the divine warrior represents the absolute pinnacle of heroism at the exact middle of the book of Judges, in the Jephthah cycle; and, most importantly, the heroic

176

Heroines, Heroes and Deity

pre-eminence of both Samson and Jephthah’s daughter is attributed to their special relationship with the deity. Similarly, another one of the greatest heroes, Saul, also owes his heroic excellence to connection with the deity, to communication with the divine in various forms (his dedication at birth, divination, etc.). The figure of Saul, that of Jephthah’s daughter, and that of Samson share another common feature – heroic death, which appears to be the most appropriate way to round off a heroic life. These characteristics – and, in the case of the two male heroes, superlative physical qualities – mark Jephthah’s daughter, Samson, and Saul as the most outstanding heroes in the biblical heroic tradition. Nevertheless, through his heroic death, Saul does not achieve a closer connection to the deity; instead, he completely loses contact with YHWH. Thus the fate of Saul exemplifies colossal heroic downfall, the ruin of a very great hero. Consequently, the Saul cycle, in fact, presents an anti-climax in the heroic tradition, and – taking into account that Saul is the only king who is portrayed first and foremost as a warrior hero – the Saul cycle also signals the decline of the heroic age within the Deuteronomistic History. The death of Saul and his sons actually puts an end to the classical age of the heroes (cf. 2 Sam 1:19–27). Against the declining hero, Saul, David rises to power, and is shown to be favoured by the deity. Although he is definitely a great hero, he represents a new type of hero that is markedly different from the physically prominent type represented by Saul and Samson (see section 3.4 above; cf. 1 Sam 16:1–13, 18). His pre-eminent heroism manifests itself in his absolutely exceptional relationship with the deity, and is not bound to military heroism. Instead, sagacity plays the leading role in his characterization. While the classical type of the warrior heroes dies a heroic death, normally childless, like Jephthah and Samson, or their family dies out, as is the case with Saul, David actually manages to found a dynasty. It is also noticeable that the distinctive features typically attributed to the heroic age cease to function after the reign of David: David is the last king and military leader who is endowed with the divine spirit (‫;)רוח‬ in addition, war-ḥērem and the Urim and Thummim ritual (a military oracular method) no longer appear as systematically and regularly applied practices after David’s rule. When observing these phenomena within the structure of the Deuteronomistic History, one may conclude that the heroic era – beginning with Joshua and flourishing during the age of the judges – in fact ends with the reign of David and with the time of his gibbôrîm (‫ ;גבורים‬cf. 2 Sam 23:8–39).



Closing Reflections

177

It is an important result of the investigations presented in this study that they highlight that an integral and well-organized structure can be traced both within the book of Judges and the so-called Saul cycle. The story of Jephthah’s daughter and that of Samson seem to constitute the very core and the pinnacle of the book of Judges, as well as of the heroic age. The third character who belongs to the greatest heroes is Saul. The Saul cycle – secondarily amended by the insertion of David’s figure – proves to be a coherent, well-structured story relating the exemplary downfall of a most excellent hero and the decline of the heroic era.

B i b l i og ra p h y

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186 Bibliography Nelson, R. D. 2003. Divine Warrior Theology in Deuteronomy. Pages 241–59 in A God So Near: Essays on Old Testament Theology in Honor of Patrick D. Miller. Edited by B. A. Strawn and N. R. Bower Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Neumann, E. 1991 [1955]. The Great Mother. Translated by R. Manheim. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Niditch, S. 1990. Samson as Culture Hero, Trickster, and Bandit: The Empowerment of the Weak. CBQ 52:608–24. ———. 1993. War in the Hebrew Bible. New York: Oxford University Press. ———. 1996. Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox. ———. 2008. Judges: A Commentary. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox. Nihan, C. L. 2003. 1 Samuel 28 and the Condemnation of Necromancy in Persian Yehud. Pages 23–54 in Magic in the Biblical World. Edited by T. Klutz. London: T&T Clark International. Nir, R., and R. M. Shipp. 2002. Of Dead Kings and Dirges: Myth and Meaning in Isaiah 14:4b–21. Leiden: Brill. Nixon, L. 1995. The Cults of Demeter and Kore. Pages 75–96 in Women in Antiquity: New Assessments. Edited by R. Hawley and B. Levick. London: Routledge. Noort, E. 2002. Genesis 22: Human Sacrifice and Theology in the Hebrew Bible. Pages 1–20 in The Sacrifice of Isaac. The Aqueda (Genesis 22) and Its Interpretation. Edited by E. Noort and E. Tigchelaar. Leiden: Brill. Obeyesekere, G. 1981. Medusa Hair: An Essay on Personal Symbols and Religious Experience. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. O’Brien, M. A. 1994. Judges and the Deuteronomistic History. Pages 235–59 in The History of Israel’s Traditions: The Heritage of Martin Noth. Edited by S. L. McKenzie and P. M. Graham. JSOTSup 182. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic. Oppenheim, A. O. 1977. Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization. Completed by Erica Reiner. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ortner, S. B. 1973. On Key Symbols. American Anthropologist 75:1338–46. Otto, R. 1980 [1923]. The Idea of the Holy. Translated by J. W. Harvey. London: Oxford University Press. Ottosson, M. 1992. Gilead. ABD 2:1020–22. Palmer, A. S. 1913. The Samson Saga and Its Place in Comparative Religion. London: Pitman. Parker, S. B. 1999. Sons of (the) God(s). Pages 794–800 in DDD. Parpola, S. 1997. Assyrian Prophecies. State Archives of Assyria 9. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Payne, D. F. 1982. I & II Samuel. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Polzin, R. 1980. Moses and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomistic History. New York: Seabury. ———. 1993. Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History, Part II: 1 Samuel. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Press, R. 1966. Urim and Thummim. Pages 3:2066–7 in Biblisch-historisches Hand­ wörterbuch. Edited by B. Reicke and L. Rost. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Rad, G. von. 1957. Theologie des Alten Testaments 1. Munich: Kaiser. ———. 1991 [1951]. Holy War in Ancient Israel. Translated and edited by M. J. Dawn. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Ralston, W. R. S. 1988. Cinderella. Pages 30–56 in Cinderella: A Casebook. Edited by A. Dundes. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.

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I n d ex of R ef er e nce s Hebrew Bible/ Old Testament Genesis 1:27 158 2–3 136, 137 3:17 136 6:1–4 73, 90 6:4 xvi, 73, 90, 127 16:2 73 19:6–8 57 22 1, 26, 31– 33, 38, 41, 42, 63 22:1 38 22:5 32 22:12 32, 42 22:13 6 22:17 27 24 125, 128 27:11 82, 88 29:1–12 125, 128 30:3 73 32:23–33 16 38:8 73 38:9 73 38:15 76 38:21–22 76 39:14 73 49:22–26 83 49:23–24 83 49:26 83 Exodus 2:16–21 125, 128 4:16 158 4:24–26 16 7:1 158 12:21–23 16

12:22–23 57 13:13 24 15:3–4 12 15:7 13, 140 15:19–21 102 15:20 22, 55 17:16 13 18:11 158 19:20–24 58 20:3 47 21:6 158 22:7 158 22:8 158 22:19 10, 158 22:27 158 22:28 24 23:13 47 28:30 107, 118 28:32 75 28:35 19 28:43 19 30:20–21 19 30:29 18 30:30 19 32:12 58 34:15–16 47 34:20 24 39:22 75 39:27 75 Leviticus 8:8 107 10:1–7 16, 17 10:6–7 19 10:6 93 10:9 19 11:44 17 16:2 19 16:13 19

16:18 15 17:7 47 18:21 1 19:2 17 19:31 158 20:2–5 1 20:5 47 20:6 158 20:20–21 27 20:26 17 20:27 158 21:3 37, 60 21:10 93 21:12 93, 94 22:9 19 27 5, 9, 10 27:1–13 5 27:1–8 6, 9 27:2 9 27:3–7 10 27:9–10 9 27:9 22 27:10 22 27:21 9, 11 27:26 9, 22 27:28 5, 6, 9–11, 22 27:29 10 27:32–33 9 27:33 22 Numbers 1:53 19 3:12 37 4:15 19 4:19–20 19 6 83, 94 6:1–21 94, 122 6:5 83, 93

8:7–15 96 8:11 24 8:13 24 8:16 24 8:17 24 8:19 19 8:21 24 10:29 87 12:6 136 13:33 127 16:19–35 17 17:25 19 18:3 19 18:5 19 18:14 9, 11 18:22 19 20–21 8 21:2 5, 7, 8, 14 21:14 12 21:21–35 51 25:11 17 26:29 47 27:1–11 43 27:21 xx, 13, 15, 107, 112, 118 31 17, 35 34:12 46 36:1–12 43 Deuteronomy 1–3 51 1:2 158 2:10 127 2:11 90, 127 2:20 127 2:21 127 3:11 127 3:12–17 45 4:25 14, 140 4:30 136 5:7 47 6:14 47 7:1–6 47 7:2 14 7:4 14, 140 7:6 17

191

Index of References 7:26 18 8:19 47 9:18 14, 140 11:17 14, 140 12:31 1 13:16–17 7, 11 13:16 14 13:18 14 14:2 17 18:9–12 166 18:10 1 18:11–12 114 18:11 158, 166 20:7 149 20:16–17 14 22:13 73 22:21 46 23:10–15 85 23:15 17 23:21–23 31 23:22–24 5, 31 24:2 37, 60 24:5 149 26:19 17 28:9 17 29:26 14, 140 31:16 46 31:17 14, 140 32:22–25 13 32:35 32 32:42 83, 88, 93 33 12 33:8–10 118 33:8 107, 118 33:10 118 33:13–17 83 33:16 83 33:17 83 Joshua 1:12–15 45 2:19 57 3:5 12, 85 6–7 xx 6 6, 21, 23 6:4–13 13 6:17–19 6

6:17

6, 7, 10, 11, 14 6:18 6, 15, 18, 54, 151 6:19 10, 11, 19, 35 6:21 10 6:24 10, 11, 19, 35 6:26 7, 21, 27, 149 7 8, 15, 19, 21–23, 63, 151 7:1 10, 14, 17–19, 23 7:11–12 18 7:11 10, 17, 34, 117, 135 7:12–13 14, 21 7:12 19 7:13 9 7:14–48 113 7:14–18 111, 114, 155 7:15 17, 34, 117, 135 7:16–21 151, 154 7:16–18 23 7:21–26 6 7:21–22 11 7:21 10 7:24–26 27 7:24–25 18 7:25–26 18 7:25 15, 54, 151 7:26 14, 17, 19, 23 10–11 14 10:29 135 11:13 14 11:27 118 13:8–14 45 13:25 45 13:31 45 17:1–6 43 18:7 45

192 Joshua (cont.) 22:1–9 45 22:18 14, 140 22:19 46 22:20 14, 18, 19 23:16 14, 47, 140 24:2 47, 158 24:16 47, 158 Judges 1:1–2:10 41 1:1–2 13 1:1 xx, 107, 111, 119 1:12–15 35 1:12–13 63, 101, 102 1:12 59, 101 1:17 xx 2:6–3:6 46 2:7 47 2:11–13 46 2:12 47 2:16 xiii 2:17 47 2:19 47 3:5–8 47 3:5–6 46 3:9–11 51 3:10 xiv, 12, 160 3:15 51 3:19–23 132 3:31 84 4–5 77, 101, 104 4 82, 84 4:4–5 100, 103 4:5 133 4:6–10 100 4:6–9 100 4:11 87 4:14 100 4:18 22, 55 4:21 84 4:22 84 5 12, 84 5:2 82, 83, 85, 93 5:7 100, 103 5:8 87

Index of References 5:12 100 5:15 100 5:16–17 46, 52 5:24 101 5:26 84 5:27 84, 100 5:28–29 22 6:11–25 129 6:11–24 129 6:12 127 6:17 135 6:34 12, 160 6:36–40 129 6:36 135 6:39 135 7 83 7:3 45 7:13 118 7:24–25 53 8:1–3 30, 52 8:22–9:57 xxiv 8:26–27 11 8:27–28 51 8:27 47, 63 8:31 48 8:33 47 9 xxiii, 28, 86 9:1–6 48 9:22 51 9:23 17, 86 9:27 158 9:56–57 63 10–16 100 10 100 10:1–5 51 10:3–5 xxiv, 45 10:4 27 10:6–12:7 xiii, 174 10:6–11:2 64 10:6–18 100 10:6–16 4, 30, 46, 64, 101 10:6–7 xxi 10:6 45, 46 10:7 xix 10:8 40, 46 10:9 40 10:10 45

10:11–14 10:13 10:16 10:18 10:8–9:18 11

50 47 47, 158 49 45 15, 26, 31, 33, 35, 39, 41 11:1–2 43 11:1 xv, 45–48, 101, 127 11:2 48 11:3 39, 48, 55 11:4–11 48 11:4 45 11:5 45, 46 11:6–10 25 11:6 23, 50 11:7–31 xxiii 11:7 50 11:8 23, 45, 49, 50 11:9 23, 50 11:10 51 11:11 23, 50, 51 11:12–28 4, 30, 51 11:12–27 25 11:12–18 45 11:12 30, 51 11:13–28 51 11:13–27 46 11:13–26 8 11:17 40 11:18 40 11:19 40 11:20 40 11:24 158 11:27 xiv, 51 11:28 30, 35 11:29–40 xiii, 1, 101, 174 11:29–31 39, 63 11:29–30 25, 38 11:29 xiv, xv, xix, 2, 12, 22, 38, 40, 43, 52, 135, 160

11:30–31

xxi, 2, 40, 63, 103 11:30 4, 8 11:31–40 102 11:31 xxii, 7, 11, 34, 36, 37, 39, 44, 55, 60, 101, 117 11:32–33 2 11:32 40, 135 11:33 2, 42 11:34 39, 40, 55 11:35–36 33 11:35 5, 15, 27, 31, 34, 35, 42, 54, 64, 117, 151 11:36–37 42, 59 11:36 32, 55, 59, 63, 103 11:37–40 101 11:37–38 31, 56, 57 11:37 35, 42, 57, 64 11:38–40 4 11:38 35, 57 11:39–40 29, 36, 46, 54, 65 11:39 xxii, 35–37, 42, 59, 60, 101, 102 11:40 xxi, 45, 64 12 30, 52 12:1–7 4 12:1–6 30, 52 12:1 40, 52, 135 12:3 40 12:4–6 45 12:4 53 12:5–6 52 12:5 40 12:6 40 12:7 45, 46, 61 12:8–15 xiii 12:8–14 51 12:8–10 xxiv 12:9 27 12:11–14 85

193

Index of References 12:13–15 xxiv 12:14 27 13–16 xiii, 83, 174 13–15 70 13 67–69, 72, 73, 95, 103, 131 13:3–5 73 13:4 70, 73 13:5 xv, xix, xxii, 32, 51, 69, 73, 83, 84, 86, 94, 96, 122 13:6 73, 85 13:7 xv, 24, 32, 69, 70, 122 13:8 32, 85 13:9 73 13:10 73 13:12 32 13:13–14 70 13:13 73 13:15–21 73 13:22 73 13:24 32 13:25 xix, 12, 70, 85, 86, 131, 160 14–16 69, 70 14–15 68–70, 95 14 68, 70 14:1 137 14:2 137 14:3 137 14:4 39, 41, 86 14:5–9 136, 137 14:5–6 80, 86 14:6 xix, 12, 85, 86, 131, 160 14:7 137 14:8–9 122 14:10 32, 122 14:12–14 80 14:19 xiv, xv, xix, xxiv, 12, 56, 80, 85, 86, 131, 160

14:20

37, 60, 78, 79 15 68 15:1 73 15:2 37, 60 15:4–5 80 15:6 78, 79 15:9–13 80 15:12–15 80 15:14 xiv, xv, xix, 12, 85, 86, 131, 160 15:18–19 96 15:18 96 15:20 51, 70 16 68–70, 101, 104 16:1 73, 137 16:3 80 16:6–9 80 16:7 90 16:11 90 16:13–14 71, 75 16:13 71, 84, 86, 94 16:17 69, 70, 83, 84, 91, 94 16:19–20 122 16:19 71, 84–86, 94 16:20 63, 71, 85, 103 16:21 96, 137 16:22 71, 77, 96 16:28 33, 41, 71, 96, 137 16:29–30 71 16:30 xxii, 33, 41, 96, 97 16:31 xxii, 51, 70, 73, 91, 99, 103, 175 17–21 xiii, 41, 100 17:3 11 18:5 13 19 56, 57, 101 19:2 46 19:22 57

194

Index of References

Judges (cont.) 19:23 57 19:24 57 19:25 57 19:27 57 20 35, 53, 100–102 20:18 xx, 13, 107, 119 20:22 13 20:23 xx, 107, 119 20:27–28 xx, 13, 107, 118, 119 20:27 144 21 35, 53, 57 21:1 59, 101 21:5 7, 14 21:10–14 101, 102 21:11–12 35 21:11 xx, 7 21:12 57 21:14 57 21:15–23 101, 102 21:18 149 21:19–23 101 21:21 57 Ruth 1:13 1 Samuel 1

37, 60

xiii, xv, 27, 42, 120–24, 126, 131, 132, 137, 139, 145, 154, 155, 159, 171, 174 1:11 24, 42, 83, 94, 121–23 1:12–15 32 1:13 123 1:14 123 1:15 123 1:17 121, 123, 159

1:19–27 127 1:19 73, 127 1:20 121 1:21 127 1:22 42, 127 1:25 127 1:27–28 32 1:27 127 1:28 xv, 42, 119, 121, 122 2:1 119 4 133 4:1–7:1 13 4:8 158 5:7 158 5:19 119 5:23–24 119 7:9 115 8:7 136 9–11 xiii, 120, 121, 124, 126, 130, 131, 134, 137–39, 145, 159, 171, 174 9–10 120, 129, 154, 155, 159 9 125 9:1–10:16 124 9:1–13 124 9:1 xv, 127, 163 9:2–8 130 9:2 xix, 81, 124, 156 9:5 125, 127 9:6 124, 159 9:7 124, 125, 127 9:8 124 9:9 124, 159 9:10–12 130 9:10 124 9:11–14 125 9:11–13 128 9:11–12 125, 128

9:11 124 9:12 125 9:13–14 125 9:13 125 9:15–17 124 9:15–16 125 9:18 124 9:20 125 9:27 159 10:1 124 10:2–6 125 10:3 159 10:5 159 10:7–11:11 120 10:7 159 10:9 159 10:10–12 124 10:10 159 10:13–16 125 10:17–27 124 10:17–21 125, 154 10:18 159 10:19 159 10:20–22 112 10:20–21 111 10:21–27 124 10:21–24 124–26, 128, 130, 156 10:22 xx, 107, 119, 125, 131 10:23–24 156 10:23 xix, 81, 124, 125 10:24 125, 163 10:26 159 11 129, 131 11:1–11 130 11:5–11 129, 138 11:5–8 138 11:5 129 11:6–8 137 11:6 xv, xix, xxiv, 12, 131, 159 11:7 131, 140

11:11 11:15

149 120, 130, 163 12:11 2, 31, 61, 154 13–14 xiii, xix, 120, 121, 132, 134, 135, 137– 39, 147, 154, 155, 171, 174 13 142, 143, 145, 150 13:1 132 13:2–14:48 120 13:2–7 132 13:2 132 13:3–4 138, 144 13:3 132, 133, 137, 142 13:4 132 13:7–15 148 13:8–15 132, 139, 140 13:15–23 132 14 15, 23, 115, 133, 138, 141, 146– 49, 153–55, 158–61, 168, 169 14:1–23 145 14:1–22 145 14:1–14 132 14:1–3 142 14:1–2 145, 146, 148, 151 14:1 134, 135, 142, 143 14:2–3 133, 144, 153 14:2 133, 155 14:3–5 145, 146, 148, 151 14:3 111, 133–35 14:4–8 135

195

Index of References 14:4 14:6–22 14:6–10

142 146 134, 135, 142, 143, 145 14:6 145 14:7 135 14:8–12 162 14:8 162 14:10 145 14:11–22 148, 151 14:11–12 134, 142, 145, 162 14:11 135 14:12 145 14:13–15 143 14:14 141, 162 14:15–20 151 14:15–17 143, 148, 152 14:15 140, 141, 145, 146, 152, 153, 158, 160, 161, 164 14:16–17 134 14:17–20 152 14:17–19 147 14:17 134, 135, 144 14:18 118, 144, 145, 153, 158 14:18 LXX 108 14:18–20 152 14:18–19 13, 144, 148, 155 14:19–20 152 14:19 133, 144, 153 14:21–22 143 14:22 145 14:23–46 135, 137 14:23–30 145 14:24–15:35 151 14:24–30 143, 148, 168

14:24 14:27–28 14:27 14:28 14:29–30 14:29

14:30 14:31–35 14:32–33 14:32 14:36–45 14:36–43 14:36–37 14:36 14:37–44 14:37–38 14:37

14:38–43 14:38 14:39 14:40–43 14:40–42 14:40 14:41 14:42 14:43

23, 112, 114, 136, 149, 155 113 114, 136, 137, 139, 150, 153–55 23, 113, 153 150, 153 15, 23, 24, 27, 54, 113, 117, 137, 150, 155 150 145, 149, 153 23 153 145 143 146, 148, 149, 151, 153, 155 111, 145, 153, 158 114, 155 152 xx, 13, 106, 107, 111–13, 115, 117, 119, 145, 148, 150, 153–56, 158, 169 148 24, 112 24, 150 151 23, 106, 111–14, 154, 155 112, 150 111–13 150 23, 113, 154

196 1 Samuel (cont.) 14:44–45 146, 148, 149, 151–53 14:44 145, 158 14:45 113, 145, 155, 158 14:46 149 15 xx, 7, 8, 13, 139, 140, 142, 147, 148, 157 15:3 6, 14, 140, 148 15:8–9 147 15:9 148 15:15–23 8 15:18–22 6 15:18–20 10 15:18 140 15:19 139 15:20 139 15:22 139 15:23 139, 167 15:24 135 15:26 148 15:32–33 10, 147 15:33 6, 148 16:1–13 176 16:7 xxiii 16:11 xxiii 16:12 xxiii 16:13 xx 16:14–23 xxiv 17 16:14–16 86 16:14 xix, 63, 170 16:15 34, 117 16:16 34, 117 16:18 xxiii, xxiv, 48, 176 17–27 xxiii 17 xxiii 17:4–7 127 17:7 76 17:26 162 17:34–36 xxiii 18–20 134 18:6–7 22, 55, 102

Index of References 18:8–11 xxiv 18:10–11 17, 56 18:10 86 18:11 86 18:17 12 19:9–10 xxiv, 17 19:9 34, 86, 117 19:10 86 21:6 12, 85 22:2 48 22:10 xx, 107, 119, 170 22:13 xx, 107, 119 22:15 xx, 107, 119 23:2 xx, 13, 107, 112, 119, 170 23:4 xx, 13, 107, 112, 119, 170 23:9–12 13, 108 24:13 118 24:16 118 25:28 12 26:19 47 27 157, 169 27:8 48 28 xiii, 106, 111, 114, 117, 120, 121, 146– 48, 152, 154–56, 158–61, 164, 166– 69, 171, 174 28:1–2 157 28:1 48 28:3–25 157 28:3 158, 166 28:5 156 28:6 13, 107, 114, 115, 118, 120, 156, 165–69 28:7–24 156 28:7 118, 163

28:8–12 28:8

167, 168 159, 163, 166, 168 28:9 114, 166–68 28:11–12 159 28:11 168 28:12–19 114 28:12 168 28:13–19 170 28:13 158–65, 168, 172 28:14 159, 167 28:15–19 13 28:15–16 115 28:15 115, 117, 120, 156, 158, 160, 161, 164– 68, 172 28:16 157 28:17–18 157, 169 28:17 115, 170, 172 28:19 115, 156, 157, 160, 165, 169, 172 28:20–25 168 28:20 xxiii, 156, 167, 168 28:21 166, 168 28:25 168 29–30 169 30 7 30:7–8 13, 108 30:7 118 30:8 xx, 107, 112, 119, 170 30:17 xx, 7 30:26 13 31 xiii, xxiv, 27, 120, 121, 146– 48, 152, 154–56, 169–71, 174

2 Samuel 1–4 xxiv 1:17–27 xix, xxiv 1:19–27 xv, 163, 176 1:19 163 1:21 163 1:22 163 1:25 163 1:27 163 2–4 132 2 170 2:1 107, 112, 170 2:21 xx 3:29 75, 76 4 27 5 170 5:19 xx, 13, 107, 112, 170 5:23–25 13 5:23–24 xx, 107, 112, 170 6:6–8 17, 19 6:23 27 8:10–12 10 9:1–13 27 9:1 163 9:2 33 12:24 73 14:15 163 14:26 82, 88 16:21 73, 132 17–25 xix 18:10 88 20:3 73 21–24 171 21 xxiv, 170, 171 21:1–14 xxiv, 27 21:1–9 25 21:1 xx, 170, 171 21:16 127 21:19 76, 89, 90, 127 21:20 127 21:22 90, 127 22:8 13, 140

197

Index of References 22:40 15 23:8–39 xxiv, 176 24:1 14, 140 28 163 28:13 163 1 Kings 3 xxiv 3:7 xxiv 11:8 34 11:33 158 13:2 34 15:30 14, 140 16:3 7 16:34 21, 27 18:17 15, 24, 27, 54, 151 18:18 15, 24, 27, 151 18:24 158 18:37 115 19:8–13 58 19:19–21 129 20:24 10 20:28 13 20:35–43 7 20:42 xx, 6, 11 22:5–28 13 22:10 133 22:11 133 22:15 118 22:19–23 17 22:34–38 27 2 Kings 1:8 82 2:16 58 3 20 3:11–19 13 3:19 20 3:26–27 19 3:27 14, 20 9:22–26 27 9:24 15 9:30–37 27 10:1–11 27 16:3 1

17:17–18 14, 140 17:17 1 17:31 1 21:6 1, 158, 166 23:7 75, 76 23:10 1 23:20 18, 24, 34 23:24 166 1 Chronicles 2:7 15, 54 5:25 47 10:13 119 14:10 13 14:14–16 13 2 Chronicles 20:3 118 20:12 118 23:24 158 33:6 158 36:17 32 Ezra 2:63 107, 120 9:3 93 10:8 9 23:34 93 Nehemiah 7:65 107, 120 Job 10:21 160 10:22 160 12:6 161 26:5–6 162 31:30 119 Psalms 2:5 13, 140 3:5 115 6:9 45 8:6 158 17:13 15 18:40 15 20:2 115

198 Psalms (cont.) 20:9 15 45:7 158 68 12 69:25 13, 140 72:9 15 76:10 118 77:19 141 78:31 15 78:49–50 13, 140 79:6 13, 140 88:10 162 88:11 90, 127, 162 97:7 158 99:6 115 108:9 45 122:6 119 139:15 160 148:12 32 Proverbs 6:29 73 31:19 75 Ecclesiastes 5:3–4 5 Isaiah 3:24 8:19

93 158, 162, 166 10:4 15 11:15 14 14:9 90, 127, 160, 162, 164 14:25 58 15:2 93 19:9 75 22:12 93 23:4 32 26:14 162 26:19 162 28:33 136 29:4 158 34:2 11, 13, 14, 34, 140

Index of References 34:5–6 34 34:5 11, 14, 118 34:6 11 38:12 75 41:1 118 41:17 115 43:28 14 44:23 160 46:1–2 15 49:8 115 54:17 118 57:9 162 65:12 15 Jeremiah 3:1–5 37 3:1 37, 60 3:13 136 6:4 12, 85 7:31 1 16:6 93 21:1 118 22:7 12, 85 25:9 14 37:7 118 37:17 118 38:14–27 13 38:14 118 46:10 34 47:5 93 50:13 13, 14, 140 50:19 46 50:21 14 50:25–26 14 50:25 13, 140 50:26–27 11, 34 51:22 32 51:27–28 12, 85 Lamentations 1:18 32 2:21 32 Ezekiel 6:9 47 7:18 93 9:6 32

16 37 16:8 37, 60 16:43 161 20:25 1 20:26 1 20:30 47 21:21 114 21:26 114, 117, 119 23 37 23:34 93 23:44 73 26:15 164 26:16 164 26:18 164 27:31 93 30:9 140 31:16 164 32:5 58 32:21 162 32:27 xvi, 90, 127, 162 32:29 162 38:20–21 140 38:21 140 39:4 58 39:17–19 34 44:20 94 44:29 9 47:18 46 Daniel 4:33

84

Hosea 1:2 2:4–25 2:7 2:10 2:23–24 3:1 3:3–4 3:3 4:13–14 11:2 14:9

47 37 47 47 115 47 47 37, 60 76 34 115

Joel 2:19 115 4:2 118 4:9 12, 85 4:12 118 Amos 2:11 94, 122 4:1 136 8:8 141 8:9–14 141 8:10 93 9:1–2 165 Obadiah 19 Jonah 1:7

46 111, 113, 114, 155

Micah 1:16 93 3:4 115 3:5 12, 85 3:7 158, 162 4:13 11 6:6 1 6:7 1 7:14 46 Habakkuk 3 12 Zephaniah 1:7–8 34 Zechariah 4:10 92 9:17 32 10:10 46 Malachi 3:24

199

Index of References

14

New Testament Matthew 3:4 136 27:51–53 164 John 4

125, 128

1 Corinthians 11:14 84 Apocrypha Judith 13:2 85 Old Testament Pseudepigrapha 1 Enoch 1:1–2 92 17 92 18:1–4 92 Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 16a 107 Classical and Ancient Christian Writings Dionysius of Halicarnassus Antiquitates Romanae 3.21–22 4 Euripides Iphigenia in Tauris 15–25 3 Phoinissai 903–1018 20 Eusebius Praeparatio evangelica I.10.33 26 I.10.44 26 IV.16.11 26

Hesiod Theogony 953ff

91

Works and Days ll. 157–75 xvi Homer Iliad 11.630f 136 18.202–31 141 19 149 19.145– 354 149 19.154–71 149 19.205–11 149 19.352–54 136, 150 22.344–54 xxiv Odyssey 11.469–70 xxiii 11.548–51 xxiii Livy Ab urbe condita 1.26 4 1.26.13–14 40 3.26–29 129 3.26 129 8.6.11–16 142 8.7 134, 139, 142 8.7.1 135 8.7.4 134, 142 8.7.7 134, 142 8.7.12–19 145, 146 8.7.13–14 143 8.7.16–19 135 12.1 139, 145, 146 Porphyry De antro nympharum 16 136

200

Index of References

Ancient Near Eastern Sources CTCA 17.5.4–8 133 17.5.4ff 133 19.1.19–25 133 19.1.19ff 133 KAI 13.4,6,7

160

KAR 307 30–38 92 KBL3 913a

82, 83

KTU 1.22 i:8–10 163 Mesha Stele l. 5 140 l. 17 7 l. 5 14 ll. 14–17 7 ll. 16–17 10 ll. 17–18 10 Oracles of Ishtar of Arbela IV.5–10 140

Poem of the Righteous Sufferer l. 51 116 l. 52 116 ll. 20–27 116 ll. 43–54 116 ll. 43–46 117 ll. 51–52 116 RS 24.266:9– 19

19

I n d ex of A ut hor s Ahlström, G. W. 45 Albertz, R. 76 Amit, Y. 45, 69, 70, 96 Andrews, S. J. 157 Assmann, J. xxv, xxvi, 106, 107, 119

Christensen, D. L. 12 Coxon, P. W. 90, 127 Crenshaw, J. L. 67, 68, 70, 71, 86, 91 Crüsemann, F. 124 Cryer, F. H. 109, 120

Badalanova Geller, F. 76 Bal, M. xxi, 29, 31, 35, 36, 42, 45, 46, 48, 49, 56–59, 77, 82, 84, 85, 100, 101 Bartelmus, R. 72, 90 Bauks, M. 19, 60 Baumgartner, W. 3, 14 Becking, B. 90 Begg, C. T. 151 Benedek, E. 3, 78 Bergen, R. D. 157, 158 Bergman, J. 31, 32 Berlyn, P. 20 Birch, B. 124 Black, J. 87–89 Blenkinsopp, J. 69, 74, 90, 95, 136, 137, 149 Bodner, K. 111, 125, 133, 143, 144, 150, 151, 156, 157, 162, 167 Boling, R. G. 25, 29, 41, 47, 53, 68, 100 Bowie, F. 127 Brekelmans, C. H. W. 18 Brooks, S. S. 86, 121, 122, 131, 159 Broshi, M. 136 Budde, K. 68 Bultmann, R. 129 Burney, Ch. 68, 76 Bynum, D. F. 66, 67, 80

Day, J. 67, 91, 93, 162 Day, P. L. 2–4, 29, 31, 36, 55–58 DeMaris, R. E. 27, 28, 40, 43, 49, 50 Dearman, J. A. 7, 45, 140 Delmaire, D. 71 Dever, W. G. 6 Diamond, E. 69, 94–96, 122 Dietrich, M. 35, 170 Dietrich, W. 7–10, 12–14 Dion, P. E. 93 Dommershausen, W. 13, 108, 111 Drewermann, E. 49 Dumézil, G. 41 Dümmerth, D. 126 Dus, J. 121, 122

Calame, C. xvi Campbell, J. 124, 125, 127, 134, 141, 143, 145, 150, 157, 159 Cartledge, P. xxi Cartledge, T. W. 4, 5, 8, 25, 26, 30–32, 94, 122 Cathcart, K. 86

Eberhardt, G. 165 Edelman,D. 8, 130, 134, 136, 137 Eissfeldt, O. 124 Eliade, M. xxvi Erlandsson, S. 46, 47 Evans-Pritchard, E. E. xxvi Exum, J. C. xxi, 50, 56, 69, 70, 73 Eynikel, E. M. M. 133 Farnell, L. R. xxi Fewell, D. N. 32 Fischer, S. 114, 158, 166, 167 Fohrer, G. 110, 113 Fontenrose, J. xxv Foster, S. J. 39, 41 Franz, M.-L. von 76 Frolov, S. 2, 3, 27, 29, 30, 36, 38, 41 Fuchs, E. 32, 54 Fuhs, H. F. 32

202

Index of Authors

Galpaz-Feller, P. 93 Gantz, T. xxi, xxiii, 3, 36, 78 Gaster, T. H. 3 Gennep, A. van 57 Gerstein, B. 36, 39, 41, 57 Gese, H. 69 Gilmour, R. 124 Goerwitz, R. L. 82, 84, 93, 94 Grant, A. J. 126 Gray, J. 82 Green, A. 87–89 Green, A. R. W. 21 Green, B. 136 Greenberg, M. 18 Gressmann, H. 124 Grimm, J. 3, 78 Grimm, W. 78 Grønbaek, J. H. 170 Gundel, H. 92 Gundel, W. 92 Gunkel, H. 66, 67, 69, 71 Gunn, D. M. 32 Hackett, J. A. xiii, 19 Hamblin, W. J. 119, 142 Haran, M. 5, 13, 17, 18 Hays, C. B. 165 Heider, G. C. 21, 26, 86, 162–64 Herrmann, W. 164 Hertzberg, H. W. 157, 158 Hoffmeier, J. K. 19 Honigmann, E. 87 Horowitz, W. 92, 106–9, 111, 115, 116, 118, 119 Houtman, C. 49, 58, 106–8 Humphreys, W. L. 120 Hurowitz, V. A. 106–9, 111, 115, 116, 118, 119 Hurvitz, A. 5 Hutton, J. M. 125 Hylander, I. 121

Jean, C.-F. 87 Jeffers, A. 113, 114, 118 Jeremias, A. 106, 110 Johnson, B. 106 Jonker, L. C. 68, 69, 927 Kaminsky, J. S. 16, 17, 21 Kamrada, D. G. 1, 44, 49, 54, 57, 105, 119 Kang, S.-M. 118, 141 Kaufmann, Y. 5, 70 Keel, O. 93 Keren, O. 135 Keukens, K. H. 31, 36, 56, 57 Kim, J. 68 Kirk, G. S. xviii Kitz, A. M. 106 Klein, L. R. 45 Kleiner, M. 166, 168 Klement, H. H. 171 Koch, U. S. 109 Koehler, L. 14 Kosmala, H. 48, 90 Kronholm, T. 82, 83, 86

Ipolyi, A. 92 Isser, S. 132

Lambert, W. G. 86, 108, 115, 118 Lang, B. 56 Langer, S. K. xxvi Leach, E. R. 95 Leeb, C. S. 27, 28, 40, 43, 49, 50 Lemardelé, C. 32 Lévi-Strauss, C. xxvi Lewis, T. J. 114, 158 Lindars, B. F. C. 67, 93 Lindström, F. 17 Lipiński, E. 106, 109 Liss, H. 120 Littleton, C. S. 41 Liver, J. 20 Logan, A. 2, 5, 15, 20, 24–27, 29, 30 Lohfink, N. 6–9, 16, 18, 21 Longman, T. 141 Loretz, O. 35 Louden, B. 141

Jackson, K. P. 7, 45, 140 Janzen, D. 2, 25, 28, 30, 38, 41, 44–46, 52, 54, 82 Janzen, J. G. 93

Maier, J. 106 Malamat, A. 6, 7 Malul, M. 16, 18 Marcus, D. 3–5, 8, 22, 24, 37, 55, 58



Index of Authors

Margalit, B. 19 Margalith, O. 67, 72, 75, 82, 91 Martin, J. D. 67, 93 Mattingly, G. L. 20 Mayer, G. 69, 83, 94, 122 Mayer-Opificius, R. 86 Mayes, A. D. H. 124 McCarter, P. K., Jr. 8, 15, 83, 108, 111, 113, 118, 120, 121, 123, 124, 127, 129, 130, 132, 133, 140, 141, 144, 149, 150, 157, 159, 160, 162, 169, 170 McCarthy, D. J. 141 McKenzie, S. L. 120, 121 Michael, M. 151 Milgrom, J. 5, 9, 10 Miller, J. M. 125, 126 Miller, P. D., Jr. 12, 13 Miscall, P. D. 137 Mobley, G. xiii, xix, xxi, xxiv, 39, 48, 55, 56, 58, 67, 68, 72–74, 76–82, 86–88, 90, 97, 107, 136, 149 Monroe, L. A. S. 7, 20 Moore, G. F. 68 Morgan, L. 83 Mosis, R. 15, 23 Müller, H.-P. 22, 26, 163 Murray, A. T. 149 Muss-Arnolt, W. 106 Naumann, T. 170 Nelson, R. D. 13, 14 Neumann, E. 76 Niditch, S. xiii, xiv, xviii, 3, 5, 8, 11, 12, 33, 41, 43, 51, 53, 56, 69, 71, 75–80, 86, 96, 97 Nihan, C. L. 166 Nir, R. 153 Nixon, L. 28 Noort, E. 26, 163 O’Brien, M. A. 41, 53, 92 Obeyesekere, G. 95 Oppenheim, A. L. 108 Ortner, S. B. xxvi Otto, R. 16 Ottosson, M. 46, 47 Palmer, A. S. 67 Parker, S. B. 73

203

Parpola, S. 140 Payne, D. F. 157 Polzin, R. 45, 121, 132, 159, 169 Press, R. 110 Rad, G. von 2, 12, 69, 85, 86, 97, 100, 118 Ralston, W. R. S. 128 Ransome, H. M. 136 Reid, D. G. 141 Reiner, E. 109 Reventlow, H. G. xvi Richter, W. 69 Ringgren, H. 31, 32 Roberts, J. J. M. 13 Robertson, E. 106, 108 Robinson, B. P. 2, 61 Robinson, P. 153 Römer, T. C. xviii, 2–4, 25, 26, 28, 29, 38, 44, 57 Rooke, D. W. 35, 57 Roscher, W. H. 136 Rose, H. J. 4 Rothwell, H. 126 Rouillard, H. 90, 127, 163, 164 Routledge, B. 7 Rudman, D. 124 Sambursky, S. 92 Sasson, J. M. 71, 82, 84 Schenker, A. 140 Schmidt, B. B. 161–63, 166 Segert, S. 7 Sharon, D. M. 146 Shipp, R. M. 153 Sjöberg, M. 2, 44–47, 51, 52, 59, 60, 101 Smith, J. E. 132, 157, 161 Soggin, J. A. 3, 4, 28, 30, 36, 38, 40–42, 46, 51, 53, 54, 67, 69, 71, 76, 83, 84, 93, 129 Spalinger, A. J. 19 Spronk, K. 49, 58 Stähli, H. P. 93 Stamm, J. J. 14 Steinberg, N. 12, 42 Steinthal, H. 67 Stern, P. D. 8, 10, 13, 16, 17 Stolz, F. 110

204 Tapp, A. M. 41 Taylor, J. G. 67, 91, 93 Thompson, S. 2, 72, 128 Tita, H. 4, 23 Tkacz, C. B. 33 Toorn, K. van der 87, 89, 158, 162 Tromp, N. 165 Tsevat, M. 31, 32 Tsumura, D. T. 171 Tuck, A. 126 Turner, V. xxvi, 36, 39, 57 Uehlinger, C. 93 Van Dam, C. 15, 106–8, 110–13 Van Seters, J. 126, 139 Vandiver, E. xvi Veijola, T. 26

Index of Authors Webb, B. G. 45 Weinfeld, M. 1 Weippert, M. 119 Weiss, Z. 91 Wenham, G. J. 31, 56 Wenning, R. 67, 86 White, M. C. 120, 123, 124, 132, 151 Wiggermann, F. A. M. 89 Wiggins, S. A. 93 Willis, T. M. 25, 49, 50 Wilson, S. M. 32, 33 Wright, J. E. 92 Wyatt, N. 75 Zakovitch, Y. 72 Zenger, E. 67, 86 Zgoll, A. 109 Ziegler, Y. 171 Zuckschwerdt, E. 95