Image, Text, Exegesis: Iconographic Interpretation and the Hebrew Bible 9781472550514, 9780567168139

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS We must express our thanks to the members of the steering committees of the SBL Iconography and Hebrew Bible program units and the EABS Iconography and Biblical Studies research group. These colleagues have played a pivotal role in guiding our ongoing dialogue about iconography and exegesis at Annual and International Meetings over the past several years: Regine Hunziker-Rodewald, Rüdiger Schmitt, Thomas Staubli, Brent Strawn, Michael Chan, Christopher Hays, Martin Klingbeil, and Florian Lippke. In addition to thanking the authors for their �ne contributions, we express our gratitude to our institutions for the many ways that they support our work and to our diligent research assistants. Izaak de Hulster expresses his sincere gratitude to the Alexander von Humboldt foundation, its Sofja Kovalevskaja grant, and the colleagues in the research team “Unity and Diversity in Early Jewish Monotheisms” under the direction of Nathan MacDonald in Göttingen (Germany) from 2009 to early 2014, as well as the research assistant Mathis Kreitzscheck. Joel LeMon is grateful to the Candler School of Theology, Emory University, and to the following research assistants: Mathew Hotho, Stephen Germany, and especially Johannes Kleiner. Finally, we thank the series editors, Claudia Camp and Andrew Mein, for their recognition of the value of iconographic approaches, and Duncan Burns, for his diligence in bringing this manuscript to press.

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ABBREVIATIONS AB ABull ACS ADAJ AeDS AfO AfOB ÄgAbh Akk AKM ALASPM AnBib ANEP ANESSup AnOr AOAT AOTC ARAB ATANT ATD ÄUAT AzTh BA BaghM BAR IS BASOR BBB BCOTWP BDB

Ber BerOl BETL

Anchor Bible The Art Bulletin Archaeology, Culture, and Society (University of Pennsylvania Press) Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan Ägyptische Denkmäler in der Schweiz Archiv für Orientforschung Archiv für Orientforschung: Beihefte Ägyptologische Abhandlungen Akkadica Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlandes Abhandlungen zur Literatur Alt-Syrien-Palästinas und Mesopotamiens Analecta biblica The Ancient Near East in Pictures Relating to the Old Testament. Edited by J. B. Pritchard. Princeton, 1954 Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplement Analecta orientalia Alter Orient und Altes Testament Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia. D. D. Luckenbill. 2 vols. Chicago, 1926–27 Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments Das Alte Testament Deutsch Ägypten und Altes Testament Arbeiten zur Theologie The Biblical Archaeologist Baghdader Mitteilungen Biblical Archaeological Review International Series Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bonner biblische Beiträge Baker Commentary on the Old Testament Wisdom and Psalms A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament, with an Appendix Containing the Biblical Aramaic. Edited by F. Brown, S. R. Driver, C. A. Briggs, E. Robinson, and W. Gesenius. Oxford, 1952 Berytus Berit Olam Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium

x BHS Bib BibInt BibOr BIS BiSe BJSUCSD BMMA BN BRS BS BYSF&ES BZ CahRB CBET CBQMS CC CHANE CIW CM ConBOT CS CSHA CThM.BW Cog&Em DaF EHS.T EtRel GA GAT Da�at Mikra DCH DUL

EBib NS Econ. Bot. EIS ErIsr 1

Abbreviations Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. Edited by K. Elliger and W. Rudolph. Stuttgart, 1983 Biblica Biblical Interpretation Biblica et Orientalia Biblical Interpretation Series The Biblical Seminars Biblical and Judaic studies from the University of California, San Diego Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York Biblische Notizen The Biblical Resource Series Bollingen series Bulletin of the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies Biblische Zeitschrift Cahiers de la Revue biblique Contributions to biblical exegesis and theology Catholic Biblical Quarterly. Monograph Series Continental Commentary Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication Cuneiform Monographs Coniectanea biblica: Old Testament Series Civilisations et sociétés California Studies in the History of Art Calwer Theologische Monographien. Reihe A, Bibelwissenschaft Cognition and Emotion Damaszener Forschungen Europäische Hochschulschriften. Reihe XXIII, Theologie Etudes religieuses Gender and Archaeology Series Grundrisse zum Alten Testament Torah, Neviim, Kethuvim im Peirush Da�at Mikra Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. Edited by D. J. A. Clines. 8 vols. Shef�eld, 1993–2011 A Dictionary of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition. G. del Olmo Lete and J. Sanmartín. Translated by W. G. E. Watson. HdO I 67. 2 vols. 2d ed. Leiden, 2003 Études bibliques. Nouvelle serie Economic Botany Early Ivories from Samaria. J. W. Crowfoot and G. M. Crowfoot. Samaria-Sebaste 2. London, 1938 Eretz-Israel Archaeological, Historical and Geographical Studies

Abbreviations ET ETR FAT II FCB FOTL FRLANT GM GTS HALOT

HAR HAT I HBM HCS HCSL BibAH HdO I Hesperia Sup HoC HR HSM HSS HThKAT HUCA IBC IEJ Int IOS IPIAO Iraq Ivories from Nimrud JANER JANESCU JAOS JbBadWürt JBP JBTh

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English Translation (used especially for indicating alternate versi�cation) Egyptian religious texts and representations Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2. Reihe Feminist Companion to the Bible The Forms of the Old Testament Literature Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Göttinger Miszellen Gettysburg Theological Studies Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. L. Köhler and W. Baumgartner and J. J. Stamm. 4 vols. Translated and edited under the supervision of M. E. J. Richardson. Leiden, 1994–99 Hebrew Annual Review Handbuch zum Alten Testament. 1. Reihe Hebrew Bible Monographs Hellenistic Culture and Society Haut-commissariat de la République française en Syrie et au Liban. Service des antiquités et des beaux-arts. Bibliothèque archéologique et historique Handbuch der Orientalistik/Handbook of Oriental Studies. Erste Abteilung Hesperia Supplements The History of Civilization. Early Empires History of Religions Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Semitic Studies (Harvard Semitic Series) Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament Hebrew Union College Annual Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching Israel Exploration Journal Interpretation Israel Oriental Society Die Ikonographie Palästinas/Israels und der Alte Orient: Eine Religionsgeschichte in Bildern Iraq, published by the British School of Archaeology in Iraq Ivories from Nimrud (1949–63) Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Journal of the American Oriental Society Jahrbuch der Staatlichen Kunstsammlungen in BadenWürttemberg Judaica Books of the Prophets Jahrbuch für Biblische Theologie

xii JCS JDS JE JFSR JHNES JNES JSJSup JSOT JSOT/ASOR MS JSOTSup JTI K/K KTU

LBS LCL LD Levant LHBOTS LSAWS LXX

MÄS MDAIK Mich MIOF MT

Muse MVS NCB NEA NedTT NICOT Nis NIV NRSV

NS NSK-AT NTOA NVBS OBO OBO.SA ÖBS OIP 1

Abbreviations Journal of Cuneiform Studies Judean Desert Studies Journal d’Entrée (Cairo Museum) Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion The Johns Hopkins Near Eastern Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods: Supplements Journal for the Study of the Old Testament JSOT/ASOR Monograph Series Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series Journal of Theological Interpretation Kulte/Kulturen The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places. Edited by M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. ALASPM 8. 3d enlarged ed. Münster, 2013 Library of Biblical Studies (Ktav Publishing House) Loeb Classical Library Lectio divina Levant Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies Linguistic Studies in Ancient West Semitic The Septuagint Münchner Ägyptologische Studien Mitteilungen des Deutschen archäologischen Instituts, Abteilung Kairo Michmanim Mitteilungen des Instituts für Orientforschung Masoretic Text Muse. Annual of the Museum of Art and Archaeology Münchener vorderasiatische Studien New Century Bible Near Eastern Archaeology Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift The New International Commentary on the Old Testament Nisaba New International Version New Revised Standard Version Numismatic Studies Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar, Altes Testament Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus New Voices in Biblical Studies Orbis biblicus et orientalis Orbis biblicus et orientalis. Series archaeologica Österreichische biblische Studien The University of Chicago Oriental Institute Publications

Abbreviations OLA OPSNKF OTL OTM OTS OtSt PÄ Pastoral Psychol PengCl PHA PMAULS PoP POut PRU PSAI PSBA Qad QD Qedem RB RBL RFAC RHR RIMA RivB RlA RS RSF SAAB SAACT SAAS SAK SAK Bh SAnt SAOC Samaria-Sebaste SBAB SBEC SBLABS SBLDS SBLMS

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Orientalia Lovaniensia analecta Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund The Old Testament Library Oxford Theological Monographs Old Testament Studies Oudtestamentische Studiën Probleme der Ägyptologie Pastoral Psychology Penguin Classics The Pelican History of Art Publications de la Mission Archéologique de l’Université de Liège en Syrie Peoples of the Past De Prediking van het Oude Testament Le Palais Royal d’Ugarit. C. F.-A. Schaeffer. Paris, 1954– Publications du Service archéologique de l’Iran Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology Qadmoniot Quaestiones Disputatae Qedem. Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem Revue Biblique Review of Biblical Literature Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Center series Revue de l’histoire des religions The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia. Assyrian Periods Rivista biblica Reallexikon der Assyriologie Ras Shamra Rivista di studi fenici State Archives of Assyria Bulletin State Archives of Assyria Cuneiform Texts State Archives of Assyria Studies Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur Beihefte zu Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur Schriftenreihe Antiquitates Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilizations Samaria-Sebaste: Reports of the Work of the Joint Expedition in 1931–33 and of the British expedition in 1935 Stuttgarter biblische Aufsatzbände Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity Society of Biblical Literature Archaeology and Biblical Studies Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series

xiv SBLRBS SBLWAW SBS SBTS SciAm Schweich BA SFSHJ SHANE SP StP Syr TAOP TeherF Theo TP TSSI TynBul UBL UCOP UF UT VKHW VTSup WB WBC WMANT WO WOO WUB ZA ZÄS ZBK ZDPV ZNW ZTK

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Abbreviations Society of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World Stuttgarter Bibelstudien Sources for Biblical and Theological Study Scienti�c American Schweich Lectures on Biblical Archaeology, British Academy for the Humanities and Social Sciences South Florida Studies in the History of Judaism Studies in the History of the ancient Near East Studia Pohl Studia Phoenicia Syria. Revue d’art oriental et d’archéologie Tel Aviv: Journal of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University. Occasional Publications Teheraner Forschungen Theologika Theologie und Philosophie Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions Tyndale Bulletin Ugaritisch-biblische Literatur University of Cambridge oriental publications Ugarit-Forschungen Ugaritic Textbook: Grammar, Texts in Transliteration, Cuneiform Selections, Glossary, Indices. C. H. Gordon. AnOr 8. Repr. Rev. ed. Rome, 1998 Veröffentlichungen der Kirchlichen Hochschule Wuppertal Supplements to Vetus Testamentum Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache: Im Auftrage der deutschen Akademien. A. Erman and H. Grapow. 7 vols. Berlin, 1926–53 Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Die Welt des Orients Wiener Offene Orientalistik Welt und Umwelt der Bibel Zeitschrift für Assyriologie Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde Zürcher Bibelkommentare Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Elizabeth M. Bloch-Smith (Ph.D., University of Chicago), Saint Joseph’s University, Philadelphia, writes on Israelite Religion from an archaeological perspective and is currently working on two co-authored books, a commentary on the biblical book of Judges and the Iron Age Gates of Tel Dor. Michael J. Chan (Ph.D., Emory University) is Assistant Professor of Old Testament at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. He is the author of articles and essays in journals such as Journal of Biblical Literature, Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft, Jewish Quarterly Review, and Journal for the Study of the Old Testament. Meindert Dijkstra (Dr. theol., Kampen Theological University) is emeritus Senior Lecturer of Old Testament, Utrecht University, the Netherlands. He has published widely on the history of Ancient Israelite religion, the prophetic literature (esp. Deutero-Isaiah and Ezekiel), Ugaritic studies, peace in present-day Israel-Palestine, and archaeology (esp. Tall Zira�a). Amy R. Gansell (Ph.D., Harvard University) is Assistant Professor of Art History in the Art and Design Department of St. John’s University in New York City. She is the author of numerous articles on Iron Age Levantine ivory sculpture, and she is currently writing a book on the visual presence of Neo-Assyrian queens. Izaak J. de Hulster (Ph.D., Utrecht University) is post-doctoral researcher at the Centre of Excellence in “Changes in Sacred Texts and Traditions” (University of Helsinki, Finland) and Habilitand at Georg August University in Göttingen, Germany. He has published Iconographic Exegesis and Third Isaiah (FAT 2/36; Tübingen, 2009) and co-edited Iconography and Biblical Studies (with Rüdiger Schmitt; AOAT 361; Münster, 2009), Divine Presence and Absence in Persian Period Judaism (with Nathan MacDonald; FAT 2/61; Tübingen, 2013),

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and Iconographic Exegesis of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: An Introduction to Its Theory, Method, and Practice (with Brent A. Strawn and Ryan P. Bon�glio; Göttingen, 2015). He is the founding chair of the EABS “Iconography and Biblical Studies” research group and was the founding co-chair (with Joel M. LeMon) of the SBL program units on ancient Near Eastern iconography and the Bible. Martin G. Klingbeil (D.Litt., Stellenbosch University) is Professor of Biblical Studies and Archaeology at Southern Adventist University, Tennessee, and a Research Associate at Stellenbosch University, South Africa. He is the editor of the Khirbet Qeiyafa Excavation Reports (vols. 2 and 4) and co-director of the Fourth Expedition to Lachish excavation project. Joel M. LeMon (Ph.D., Emory University) is Associate Professor of Old Testament at the Candler School of Theology of Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, and Associate Professor Extraordinary at the University of Stellenbosch, South Africa. He is the author of Yahweh’s Winged Form in the Psalms: Exploring Congruent Iconography and Texts (OBO 242; Fribourg, 2010) and co-editor of Method Matters: Essays on the Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Honor of David L. Petersen (with Kent H. Richards; Atlanta, 2009). He was the founding co-chair (with Izaak de Hulster) of the SBL program units on ancient Near Eastern iconography and the Bible. His current research focuses on violence in the Psalms and ancient Near Eastern iconography. Meir Lubetski (Ph.D., New York University) is Professor in the Department of Modern Languages and Comparative Literature, Baruch College, City University of New York. His research explores how an understanding of the biblical world can be informed by rabbinic literature as well as East Mediterranean languages, literatures, and archaeology. Among his numerous publications are The Book of Esther: A Classi�ed Bibliography (with Edith Lubetski; Bible Bibliographies; Shef�eld, 2008), contributions to the Anchor Bible Dictionary and the following edited volumes: New Inscriptions and Seals Relating to the Biblical World (with Edith Lubetski; SBLABS 19; Atlanta, 2012); New Seals and Inscriptions: Hebrew, Idumean, and Cuneiform (HBM 8; Shef�eld, 2007); Boundaries of the Ancient Near Eastern World: A Tribute to Cyrus H. Gordon (with Claire Gottlieb and Sharon Keller; JSOTSup 273; Shef�eld, 1998). 1

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Maria Metzler is a doctoral student at Harvard University. She is writing her dissertation on the destructive aspect of Israel’s deity, with a special focus on the manifestation of divine wrath in the Ark of YHWH. Rüdiger Schmitt (Ph.D., University of Groningen) is Associate Professor of Old Testament at the Westphalian Wilhelm’s University of Münster, Germany. He is the author of Philistäische Terrakotta�gurinen: Archäologische, ikonographische und religionsgeschichtliche Beobachtungen zu einer Sondergruppe palästinischer Kleinplastik der Eisenzeit (Groningen, 1994); Bildhafte Herrschaftsrepräsentation im eisenzeitlichen Israel (AOAT 283; Münster, 2001); Magie im Alten Testament (AOAT 313; Münster, 2004); Der “Heilige Krieg” im Pentateuch und im Deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk (AOAT 381; Münster, 2011); Family and Household Religion in Ancient Israel (with R. Albertz; Winona Lake, Ind., 2012), and Mantik im Alten Testament (AOAT 411; Münster, 2014). Thomas Staubli (Dr. theol., Fribourg, Switzerland) is Senior Lecturer of Old Testament Studies at the University of Fribourg and co-founder of the University’s Bibel + Orient Museum. Among his published books is Body Symbolism in the Bible (Collegeville, 2001) together with Silvia Schroer. Hans Ulrich Steymans, O.P. (Dr. theol., Mag. phil. in Assyriology, University of Vienna, Austria) is Professor of Old Testament at the University of Fribourg, Switzerland. Among his publications are Psalm 89 und der Davidbund. Eine strukturale und redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung (ÖBS 27; Frankfurt/M. 2005) and Deuteronomium 28 und die adê zur Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons. Segen und Fluch im Alten Orient und in Israel (OBO 145; Fribourg, 1995); as well as the edited volumes: Edith Porada: A Centenary Volume (with Erika Bleibtreu; OBO 268; Fribourg, 2014), Gilgamesch. Ikonographie eines Helden / Gilgamesh – Epic and Iconography (OBO 245; Fribourg, 2010), and Jerusalem und die Länder. Ikonographie – Topographie – Theologie. Festschrift für Max Küchler zum 65. Geburtstag (with Gerd Theissen; NTOA 70; Göttingen, 2009). Brent A. Strawn (Ph.D., Princeton Theological Seminary) is Professor of Old Testament at the Candler School of Theology and Graduate Division of Religion at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, where he is af�liated with the Department of Middle Eastern and South Asian

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Studies and a Senior Fellow in the Center for the Study of Law and Religion. He has authored What Is Stronger than a Lion? Leonine Image and Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East (OBO 212; Fribourg, 2005) and served as editor in chief of The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Law (Oxford, 2014). He is co-chair of the “Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Bible” section of the Society of Biblical Literature. Jackie Wyse-Rhodes is a doctoral candidate in Hebrew Bible at Emory University, where she is writing a dissertation on portrayals of the natural world in early Jewish apocalyptic literature. In September of 2015 she will return to Bluffton University (Bluffton, Ohio) as Assistant Professor of Religion, where she also taught in 2012.

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INTRODUCTION: THE INTERPRETIVE NEXUS OF IMAGE AND TEXT Izaak J. de Hulster and Joel M. LeMon

“Texts” and “images,” philology and archaeology, are equally indispensible for a historian. They necessarily belong together. They presuppose one another, complement one another, assay one another, and provide for one another a mutual witness. (Gressmann 1927, viii, our translation and emphasis)

The Value of the Iconographic Approach Most scholars of the Hebrew Bible share a common methodological starting point: exegesis must take historical context carefully into account. However, these same scholars often do not agree about the relative value of different types of historical data. What sources of data could, should, and, in fact, must be considered for one’s work to qualify as a valid critical and historical exercise? Answers vary widely. Scholars typically address this question implicitly through the methods they choose to employ when engaging a text. A survey of the dominant methods in the �eld suggests that many turn �rst to ancient Near Eastern texts to establish the historical context of the Hebrew Bible. The Bible is, after all, an ancient Near Eastern text. Yet increasingly, biblical scholars are also turning to non-textual sources of data from the ancient Near East, especially pictorial material, or ancient Near Eastern iconography. Gressmann’s exhortation from 1927 suggests that the turn to images is not an entirely recent movement in biblical studies. Yet his comments ring particularly true today as the analysis of images has become more prominent than ever. “The iconographic approach” has steadily gained momentum since the 1970s as a discrete method of biblical interpretation that analyzes the Hebrew Bible in light of the iconographic background of the ancient Near East. The approach has especially �ourished in the past decade thanks to the recent publication of comprehensive iconographical catalogs and the ever-increasing levels of methodological clarity and sophistication among its practitioners.

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Taken as a whole, the essays in this volume con�rm the central tenet of the iconographic approach, that pictorial material can be as important as—and, in some cases, even more important than—ancient Near Eastern texts for understanding the historical context of the Hebrew Bible. This claim might come as a surprise to some, given that the Hebrew Bible, at least in part, re�ects an aniconic ideology. However one construes the image ban, that it appears at all betrays the fact that the world of the Hebrew Bible was a world shot through with images. And these images were powerful expressions of the cultures that created them. Why else would images be banned? Modes of Analysis The study of ancient images requires an awareness of the essential nature of such images. Othmar Keel described the principle as “the right of images to be seen,” the title of his 1992 monograph, Das Recht der Bilder gesehen zu werden. Images are not to be read like texts but seen, treated as visual artifacts. The careful historical critic attends to the complete artifactual record of the ancient Near East since text and image together provide expressions of the cultures that produce them. When engaging ancient Near Eastern iconography for the purpose of interpreting the biblical texts, one must constantly be aware that reading texts and seeing images are different processes with their own distinct “exegetical” steps. It should not be surprising, therefore, that questions of method have dominated recent studies of the relationship of iconography and biblical texts.1 In addition to this infusion of energy around methodological issues, scholars employing the iconographic approach have also bene�ted from the recent publication of multi-volume compendia of iconographical materials from the Levant. The two most outstanding projects are the volumes in Die Ikonograpie Palästinas/Israels und der Alte Orient: Eine Religionsgeschichte in Bildern (IPIAO) under the direction of Silvia Schroer and Othmar Keel’s Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfangen bis zur Perserzeit. Thanks to these and other resources (see the Appendix of the present volume), biblical 1. See, especially, Izaak J. de Hulster, Iconographic Exegesis and Third Isaiah (2009), Joel M. LeMon, Yahweh’s Winged Form in the Psalms (2010), and, for the New Testament, Annette Weissenrieder, Friederike Wendt, and Petra von Gemünden (eds.), Picturing the New Testament: Studies in Ancient Visual Images (2005); note also the forthcoming monographs by Michael Chan and Ryan Bon�glio based on their recent dissertations at Emory University.

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scholars now have unprecedented access to the ancient Near Eastern iconographic repertoire.2 One indication of the growing awareness of the value of this pictorial material can be seen in the programming of the conferences of the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) and the European Association of Biblical Studies (EABS). The �rst joint SBL/EABS conference for iconography and biblical studies occurred in Vienna in 2007, with proceedings published in de Hulster and Schmitt (2009). The present volume is a collection of fruits of subsequent yearly conferences in the United States and Europe. Overview of Image, Text, Exegesis The essays at or near the beginning of the volume largely focus on the modes of interpreting ancient Near Eastern images in their unique arthistorical contexts. In these essays, the authors have employed selfconscious “exegetical methods” of analyzing ancient Near Eastern images. As the essays continue throughout the volume, the contributors increasingly re�ect on the interaction between the biblical text and ancient Near Eastern imagery, that is, how iconography can speci�cally inform biblical exegesis. As Gressmann would put it, these essays explore how text and image “necessarily belong together” (1927, viii). The volume begins with Elizabeth Bloch-Smith’s essay, “Acculturating Gender Roles: Goddess Images as Conveyors of Culture in Ancient Israel.” Bloch-Smith demonstrates how the presentation of the naked female body in Bronze and Iron Age southern Levantine art re�ects cultural constructions of gender. She maintains that female nudity indicates that �gures have crossed a boundary from mortal to divine. In this art-historical context, the Judean pillar �gurines can be understood as divine representations. Rüdiger Schmitt’s essay, “Mixed Creatures and the Assyrian In�uence on the West Semitic Glyptic Repertoire,” tracks the ways that iconographic features move between cultures. Schmitt describes how the West Semitic symbol system variously adopted Assyrian mixed creatures such as the ugallu-demon, the standing winged bull, the scorpion-man, and the Lamassu. Schmitt argues that these images evidence a general emulation of Assyrian artistic styles rather than a full-scale appropriation of Mesopotamian demonology. 2. Adapted from Izaak J. de Hulster and Joel M. LeMon, “Picturing the Text: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Hebrew Bible.” Online: http://www. bibleinterp.com/articles/2013/09/hul378003.shtml (accessed September 2013).

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Meir Lubetski’s contribution, “The Function and Meaning of my �mn on Hebrew Seals in Light of Accompanying Iconography,” provides a comprehensive analysis of a particular stamp seal dating to the seventh– eighth century B.C.E. Lubetski begins with a philological analysis, arguing that the seal’s inscription my �mn is a Hebrew re�ex of an Egyptian phrase “beloved of Amun.” Lubetski then explores the seal’s iconography, tracking the possible precursors of the seal’s scorpion imagery both from Egyptian and Mesopotamian sources. Amy Gansell’s essay, “The Iconography of Ideal Female Beauty Represented in the Hebrew Bible and Iron Age Levantine Ivory Sculpture,” returns to themes already introduced by Bloch-Smith. Gansell identi�es the particular iconographic features that represented the essence of feminine beauty and compares these to the descriptions of feminine beauty found in biblical texts. Gansell attends to the portrayal of the female body (head, eyes, skin, hair) as well as the role of ornamentation and dress to suggest that the ivory sculptures underscore and reinforce a general ideology about the virtuous and desirable aspects of female sexuality. In “Finding Asherah: The Goddess in Text and Image,” Jackie WyseRhodes sustains the focus on the representation of female bodies. Her study probes recent scholarship on the existence and identity of the goddess Asherah to determine not simply the role that iconographical material plays in the current debate, but also the reasonable limitations of this data. She concludes that de�nitive Asherah iconography is virtually absent from the artifactual record of Israel/Palestine. Thus, in the Hebrew Bible, Asherah may function not so much as a goddess in her own right, but as a rhetorical mitigation of the real threat posed by other goddess cults. Brent A. Strawn’s essay, “The Iconography of Fear: Yir �at YHWH (���� ����) in Artistic Perspective,” provides a clear example of the potential for iconography to illuminate a particular interpretive problem, namely, the wide and seemingly contradictory set of associations of the common biblical phrase “the fear of YHWH.” Strawn understands the range of associations, from dread to adoration, to be rooted in the ancient Near Eastern “iconography of fear,” the various postures that �gures assume before a king or god. Strawn tracks the iconography of fear through Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Israel/Palestine on his way to demonstrating that ancient Near Eastern images can provide a window into understanding ancient cognitive processes.

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The volume turns again to the analysis of feminine imagery in ancient Near Eastern art with Martin Klingbeil’s paper, “ ‘Children I Have Raised and Brought Up’ (Isaiah 1:2): Female Metaphors for God in Isaiah and the Iconography of the Syro-Palestinian Goddess Asherah.” Klingbeil moves through the text of Isaiah to create a pro�le of female metaphors for God along with associated submetaphors. Then he creates a corresponding iconographic pro�le for the goddess Asherah, mapping the areas of correspondence and the signi�cant areas of divergence between the pro�le of God in Isaiah and the goddess Asherah. Thomas Staubli’s essay, “Images of Justi�cation,” surveys a wide range of audience/introduction scenes in which a �gure approaches or stands before a deity. Staubli identi�es four common iconographic constellations of justi�cation images: justi�cation through divine or human intercession, justi�cation through sacri�ce, justi�cation through sonship, and justi�cation through virtue. After describing these constellations, Staubli moves to show how the imagery corresponds with the ideology of justi�cation in numerous biblical and extrabiblical texts. Like Strawn’s work, Meindert Dijkstra seeks to address a particular interpretive crux by recourse to iconographic data in his essay, “The Ivory Beds and Houses of Samaria in Amos.” Dijkstra shows how biblical texts describing “ivory houses” shaped the initial interpretations of the famous Samaria ivories. As he explores the archaeological context of the Samaria ivories, Dijkstra suggests new combinations of fragments of the ivories on the basis of comparable scenes discovered elsewhere. Michael Chan and Maria Metzler have jointly authored the essay “Lions and Leopards and Bears, O My: Re-reading Isaiah 11:6–9 in Light of Comparative Iconographic and Literary Evidence.” Chan and Metzler show how the menagerie in Isa 11 modi�es standard ancient Near Eastern notions of the relationship between royalty and animals. In contrast to the common reception of this text as portraying an image of the “peacable kingdom,” Chan and Metzler argue that the vision of Isa 11:6–9 radically recon�gures ancient Near Eastern ideologies of kingship. Izaak de Hulster takes on another interpretive crux in his essay, “A God of the Mountains? An Iconographic Perspective on the Aramean Argument in 1 Kings 20:23.” De Hulster turns to iconography for analyzing the ways that landscapes were associated with deities, particularly weather deities and lunar deities. De Hulster shows how YHWH can be rightly understood as a “God of the mountains” by means of iconography that consistently conceptualizes Levantine storm deities with

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mountains. The iconography also reveals that Hadad, the Aramean storm deity, lacks any association with mountains. Hans Ulrich Steymans contributes the �nal exegetical essay in the volume, “The Egyptian Deity Menkeret and Psalm 89 as Funeral Psalm.” The essay describes a statue of Menkeret bearing the mummi�ed form of Tutankhamun. Steymans employs this image as evidence that Ps 89 was originally a dirge for Davidic kings. In light of the iconography of Menkeret, Steymans argues that ��� can indicate both “bosom” and “lap” and that the complicated �nal verses of the psalm in fact describe the Davidic king being borne aloft into heaven. In an appendix, “Practical Resources for Iconographic Exegesis,” Izaak de Hulster reiterates the volume’s central claim about the importance of attending to the iconographic context of the Hebrew Bible. In order to facilitate further studies that explore the nexus of text and image, de Hulster suggests various ways to discover, catalog, and cite images from the ancient Near East. In addition to general comments about the methods of iconographical analysis, de Hulster includes practical advice about the use of line drawings versus photographs and obtaining permissions for reproducing images in publications. Bibliography Bon�glio, R. 2013. Reading Images, Seeing Texts: Towards a Visual Hermeneutics for Biblical Studies. Ph.D. diss., Emory University. Chan, M. 2013. The City on a Hill: A Tradition-Historical Study of the Wealth of Nations Tradition. Ph.D. diss., Emory University. Gressmann, H. 1927. Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alten Testament. 2d ed. Berlin: de Gruyter. Hulster, I. J. de. 2009. Iconographic Exegesis and Third Isaiah. FAT 2/36. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Keel, O. 1992. Das Recht der Bilder gesehen zu werden. OBO 122. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 1995–. Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfangen bis zur Perserzeit. OBO.SA 10, 13, 29, 31, 33 (two more volumes planned). Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. LeMon, J. M. 2010. Yahweh’s Winged Form in the Psalms: Exploring Congruent Iconography and Texts. OBO 242. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Schroer, S. 2005–. Die Ikonograpie Palästinas/Israels und der Alte Orient: Eine Religionsgeschichte in Bildern (IPIAO). 3 vols. (one more volume planned). Fribourg: Academic Press. Weissenrieder, A., F. Wendt, and P. von Gemünden, eds. 2005. Picturing the New Testament: Studies in Ancient Visual Images. WUNT 2/193. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. 1

ACCULTURATING GENDER ROLES: GODDESS IMAGES AS CONVEYORS OF CULTURE IN ANCIENT ISRAEL Elizabeth Bloch-Smith

Introduction Biology determines sex but culture creates gender roles. In the culture of the southern Levant, divine and human gendered roles exist from the beginning of time and are divinely ordained. Texts, oral traditions, and images all serve to legitimate, inculcate, and perpetuate the gendered roles. This paper focuses on images of female divinities from the Bronze and Iron Age southern Levant, which manifest regional variation and provide a context for interpreting the Judean Pillar Figurines of ancient Israel. In general, what features identify female sex or gender in Bronze or Iron Age southern Levantine �gurines? Breasts, pudenda, or a nursing infant mark sex. Long curled hair, a long skirt or shift, jewelry, and cosmetic color applied to the face, commonly but not exclusively, serve as gendered female features. While males typically brandish weapons and wield tools, females are associated with music, food, and children. Stance may be indicative. Southern Levantine females stand small in stature, frontal, with legs together, and arms hanging down at the sides or resting on the abdomen. By contrast, males frequently sit or stride, with one or both arms raised in benediction or an aggressive stance. In discussing the images, we may distinguish between “nakedness” as a functional state, and symbolic “nudity.” Following Julia Asher-Greve and Deborah Sweeney, “naked” refers to persons who have purposefully disrobed or been disrobed, fully or partially. Men at work and children at play who remove garments exemplify functional nakedness. Nonfunctional full-exposure serving a symbolic function is termed “nude” (Asher-Greve and Sweeney 2006, 133). Nudity’s “provocation lies not only in its symbolism alone, but also in its trespassing of boundaries,” its non-normative status that was simultaneously inviting and threatening (Asher-Greve and Sweeney 2006, 128). It is the premise of this paper

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that through the ancient southern Levant, nudity was an attribute of female divinities that signi�ed having crossed the boundary from the mortal into the divine realm of goddesses, their attendants, and agents of sympathetic magic. In general, for Egypt, Mesopotamia, and ancient Israel, wearing clothing constitutes the norm. A lack of clothing indicates low social status or degradation. Egyptian nakedness signi�es punishment and humiliation. For example, criminals about to be beaten are naked, as are captured enemies that are paraded about (Asher-Greve and Sweeney 2006, 127, 137–38, 167). Iron Age Assyrian reliefs convey the same sentiments. Enemy males, dead, tortured, or humiliated, are stripped of their clothing. In the Bible, as well, nakedness elicits feelings of shame (Gen 3:9– 10). In describing humans’ �rst actions, the Garden of Eden story employs the Hebrew roots ��� and ���, the derivative forms of which are associated respectively with “skin” or “nakedness” and “shrewdness” or “craftiness” (BDB 735–36, 791). In Gen 2:25–3:1, the juxtaposition of � �) � and the homophonic terms—the nakedness of Adam and Eve (����� the craftiness of the snake (����� )—suggests that the negative connotations of ��� should be applied to ��� as well. Adam and Eve begin life naked with no shame (Gen 2:25) but feel embarrassed by their nakedness after eating from the tree of knowledge (Gen 3:8–12). Any discussion of anthropomorphic images must consider how this perception of nakedness affects perceptions of nude �gurines. Bronze Age Female Divinities We begin with Levantine Bronze Age images of female divinities, the predecessors of ancient Israelite �gurines. A combination of features may mark a female image as divine: a shrine or cult stand setting, accompanying emblematic animals, items signifying divinity such as a celestial element, a crown or special headdress, identi�cation in an inscription, constituent material, or nudity. As expected, depictions vary by region. Egyptianizing elements, often mediated by the Phoenicians, appear at sites along the Levantine coast far to the north of Egypt. Generally, in the Late Bronze Age, Syrian in�uence permeates inland, highland regions while Egyptian/Phoenician in�uence extends into the southernmost Levant, along the coast, and through the Jezreel and Beth Shan Valleys and their environs. Worship of the goddess associated with vegetation—the emblematic Syrian “stylized tree” and the anthropomorphic Egyptian “Branch Goddess”—dates from at least the Middle Bronze II. A cylinder seal found at Middle Bronze IIB Tell el-�Ajjul, likely imported from Syria, portrays a 1

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stylized tree �anked by winged genii and accompanied by a lion (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 29, �g. 15b) (�����). The tree is not marked as male or female; Egyptianizing representations identify the tree with females. Scarabs display the Syrian frontal nude, dubbed the “Branch Goddess,” surrounded by or grasping branches. On one example, branches grow from her genitalia explicitly linking vegetation with human reproduction (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 24, 26, �gs. 11–12c) (���� �). This same depiction appears on contemporary Egyptianizing gold pendants from Megiddo (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 48). In a variant of the “Branch Goddess,” Late Bonze I ceramic plaques from southern, coastal, and Beth Shan Valley sites depict the goddess grasping lotus or papyrus plants (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �gs. 69–72, 70–72).

Figure 1. Cylinder Seal depicting a stylized tree �anked by winged genii, accompanied by a lion. Middle Bronze Age IIB. Tell el-�Ajjul. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 30, �g. 15b. Used with permission.

Figure 2. Scarab depicting the “Branch Goddess.” Middle Bronze Age IIB. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 27, �g. 12b. Used with permission.

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In Late Bronze Age representations, a lion (or rarely a horse) pedestal or throne signals divinity. A gold-leaf, Egyptianizing, crowned, naked goddess standing atop an armored horse from Lachish and a clay model fragment from Tel Qarnayim (near Beth Shean) number among the most elaborate examples of a goddess perched on an animal (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 66–68, �gs. 69–72). Some �gurines attain divinity by association. Naked females �anking a shrine entrance are not the deity worshipped. Comparable to the monstrous creatures �anking the entrance to the Ain Dara temple, these females are divine associates that protect and mediate access to the deity that presides from inside. A model shrine from Late Bronze Age Kamid el-Loz, Lebanon, features a pair of women, naked but for a necklace and perhaps something perched on their heads, standing with hands resting on their abdomens astride the shrine entrance (Zevit 2001, �g. 4.22). Their nudity—a “trespassing of boundaries”—exposes their liminal role, in this case as lesser divinities mediating passage from the realm of the mundane to the sacred. Nude females interpreted as divine, represented by terracotta, molded, and plaque images with no identifying markings, begin in the sixth or �fth millennium, continue through the Middle Bronze Age, and, at least for plaque �gurines, increase through the Late Bronze Age (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 97). From Late Bronze Age sites along the northern coast and north of the Carmel, inexpensive, molded, ceramic �gures depict nude women with breasts and vulva, facing front or side, wellcoiffed and bejeweled, with hands on the bosom or pudendum, in continuation of a type introduced in the late Middle Bronze Age. A particularly interesting example, found at Tel Aphek and at Revadim, portrays a female with infants nursing at her breasts (twins?) and animals �anking trees on each thigh (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 82). This “Fecund Female” apparently promotes human, animal, and vegetal fertility. This survey of Bronze Age representations demonstrates that stylized trees/plants and nude females persisted over a very long period, in association with one another. The tree and nude female may represent distinctive goddesses (perhaps Asherah and Astarte, respectively) with shared forms and attributes, or the goddesses may have converged or exemplify translatability. Israelite El and Yahweh, Egyptian Qudshu, and the Israelite Queen of Heaven may be additional examples of the same phenomenon (Smith 2002, 32–43, 57–60; 2008, 98).

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Iron Age Female Divinities In Iron I, the expanding repertoire of female images demonstrates continuing Late Bronze Age features and regional variation. Terracotta plaques of frontal, nude females with arms hanging or hands at the breasts or genitals continue the Late Bronze Age tradition in regions under Egyptian-Phoenician in�uence (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 97, 99, �gs. 121a–122b). This already long-attested type, perhaps representing Astarte, persists in Iron II Philistia, Phoenicia, and the Jezreel-Beth Shan Valley system but not in highland Judah. Of the two Bronze Age depictions of the vegetation goddess, the Syrian stylized tree and the Egyptian “Branch Goddess,” the few known examples suggest the tree prevails in Iron I (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 127, �gs. 153–55). Examples from Tell el Far�ah (S) in the south and Ta�anach in the north link the Late Bronze Age and Iron II depictions (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �gs. 153, 154a, 154b). Philistia also introduces Ashdoda, a late provincial development of a Mycenaean type, a newcomer to the region (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 122, �g. 148). In the southern Levant, �gurative cult stands and model shrines begin in the Late Bronze Age, attain popularity in the northern part of the country in early Iron IIA, and continue into the ninth century B.C.E. On the cult stand from Iron IIA Tel Ta�anach, the goddess/es stand in a position analogous to the god/s: a nude female �anked by lions in the bottom register and a stylized tree �anked by nibbling quadrupeds and lions in the third register from the bottom (Beck 1994). If the tree and nude female signify two different goddesses (Asherah and Astarte respectively) then the two share an attribute animal, the lion/ess. An inscription from Late Bronze Age Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani 98/02, refers to Astarte as a lioness and panther, “May the name of �A�tartu (Astarte) be sung. Let me sing the name of the lioness…. A mighty panther is �A�tartu, (As) a mighty panther does she pounce” (Pardee 2007, 30, 35). We lack comparable evidence for Asherah. Lions accompany various representations spanning the Middle Bronze Age to Iron IIC: the Middle Bronze Age tree, the Late Bronze Age Egyptianized “Branch Goddess” (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 66, �g. 70), Iron IIA cult stand and model shrine goddesses (Tel Ta�anach, Pella, Yavneh), and the Iron IIC goddess on the Tel Miqne silver medallion (Gitin and Golani 2001, 33, pl. 2.11). We presume attendant animals identify the deity and perhaps a salient quality. Why a lion? Lions exemplify strong and mighty beasts. For example, David, lamenting the deaths of Saul and Jonathan, characterizes the pair as “swifter than eagles, they

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were stronger than lions” (2 Sam 1:23). Alternatively, “Both bears and lions bear multiple young, and any ancient hunter who chanced to witness a lioness mate would be unlikely to have forgotten it. Female lions mate as often as every �fteen minutes, day and night, with anywhere from one to three males” (Hrdy 1999, 262). A lioness would thus be an obvious choice as an emblematic animal for a fertility goddess. Like their Late Bronze Age predecessors at Kamid el-Loz, females �anking the entrance of Iron IIA/tenth-century B.C.E. model shrines from Tel Rehov and Pella stand erect, facing front, and nude except for perhaps a necklace. On a Tel Rehov cult stand, crudely fashioned and attached maidens stand to attention either side of a tree. A second Rehov cult stand, with molded nude female �gures with arms hanging at their sides, demonstrates continuity of both the cult stand and the attendant female from the tenth into the ninth century B.C.E. (Mazar and PanitzCohen 2007, 210). The Pella females, like their Tel Ta�anach counterparts, associate with lions; each stands atop a lion’s head (Potts et al. 1985; Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 103, �g. 126). Lions also appear on Iron IIA Philistine cult stands retrieved from the Yavneh favissa. On one stand, nude females standing on lion bases form corner columns that �ank musicians standing in the shrine entrance. On the corners of a second cult stand, bulls’ heads protrude beside nude females clasping their breasts (Kletter, Ziffer, and Zwickel 2006, 152–53). A model shrine from Moab, with a pair of naked women atop the entrance, attests to the continuing role of the attendant female down to ca. 800 B.C.E. (Weinberg 1978, 30–7). Continuing the trend seen in Iron I, Iron IIA-B images of female divinities increase in number and vary across regions. Northern sites favor partially and fully clothed women with babies or a disk (not considered divinities in this study). Philistine and Phoenician regions prefer curvaceous nudes, and the central highlands adopt the tree. There are few images from the Iron IIA-B central highlands: scaraboids depicting individuals �anking a tree and the earliest Judean Pillar Figurines (discussed below), but no nudes. The nude gracing Iron IIA cult stands and model shrines bows out, along with the cult objects. On Iron IIA scaraboids, the tree once �anked by geniis and caprids now towers over human worshippers (Megiddo, Tell el-Farah [N], Bethel, Beth Shemesh, el-Jib, Lachish) (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 152, �gs. 179–81) (�����). Examples from ninth-century B.C.E. Samaria and Tel Halif and from late eighth- or seventh-century B.C.E. Tell en-Nasbeh attest to the tree’s longevity (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 152, 234, �gs. 233a, b). 1

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Figure 3. Scaraboids depicting individuals �anking a tree. Iron Age IIA. Bethel and Beth Shemesh. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 151, �gs. 179b-c. Used with permission.

Figure 4. Positive pressed from a mold found at Tel Batash (Timnah). Iron IIB. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 202, �g. 217b. Used with permission.

While absent from the highlands, curvaceous nudes appeared in the coastal and southern Levant under Phoenician and Philistine in�uence. “Phoenician” plaques from Iron IIA-B sites in Egypt, the south, and along the coast depict a temple façade framing a nude goddess, apparently the resident deity, standing alone or accompanied by a child (Egypt, Gaza, Tel Qasile, Shephelah sites) (Mazar 1985, �g. 2; Ward 1996, pl. 1; Uehlinger 1997, 119, �g. 36–39). On an eighth-century B.C.E. example, Bes capitals top the �anking papyriform columns that rest on bases of lions’ forequarters (Ward 1996, pl. 1). These renderings combine Egyptian and Syrian elements. Egyptian features include the tightly curled

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coif (adopted by Judean Pillar Figurines), hieroglyphs, and temple façade with Hathor or papyriform columns. The en face stance of the naked female with arms at her sides and the lions exemplify northwest Syrian elements. On three examples, the women hold a breast (Mazar 1985). In Iron IIC, female �gurines, frontal and nude except for jewelry, continue in the same regions as Iron IIB while their highland counterparts modestly lack details below the waist. Iron IIB-C Ashdod and Tel Batash plaques render the now familiar nude. A large, well modeled though unattractive face rests on a foreshortened body with breasts, navel, and pudenda clearly indicated with hands down at the sides or presenting the breasts (Uehlinger 1997, 119, �gs. 40, 41; Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 202, �gs. 217–19) (���������).

Figure 5. Positive pressed from a mold found at Tel Batash (Timnah). Iron IIB. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 202, �g. 217c. Used with permission.

Figure 6. Scaraboid depicting a goddess. Lachish. Seventh century B.C.E. Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 330, �g. 323. Used with permission. 1

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Also in late Iron IIB or Iron IIC, a star is born or revived under Assyrian in�uence—a female celestial deity. According to Keel and Uehlinger, sun and celestial symbolism enter Israel from Egypt and via the Phoenicians beginning in the ninth and eighth centuries B.C.E. / Iron IIB as well as from Assyria in the later eighth century B.C.E. / Iron IIC (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 278–79). Smith stresses the continuity of celestial elements from Late Bronze Age Ugarit into Israelite practices (Smith 2003). The representations of Assyrian Ishtar, dressed and wielding weapons conveying power, authority, and parity with the gods, appears on Iron IIC seals from northern and coastal sites (Nahal Issachar, Beth Shean, Shechem, Dor and Ashdod) (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 292, �gs. 286–88; Ornan 2001, �gs. 9.2, 9.3). Two images warrant detailed descriptions. An unstrati�ed scaraboid from Lachish features an en face female, partially clothed and wearing a headdress, presenting her breasts (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 329–31, �g. 323) (�����). A winged solar disc, a worshipper, and a crouching monkey perched above a branch/tree con�rm her divine status and provide the composite deity with both celestial and fertility associations. A silver medallion found in 604 B.C.E. destruction debris at Tel Miqne displays a winged, crowned, and at least partially dressed goddess standing on a lion. Comparable to the Lachish scaraboid, a �gure with upraised arms worships the goddess and heavenly bodies hover overhead, in this case a crescent moon, a winged solar disc, and the seven circles of the Pleiades (Gitin and Golani 2001, pl. 2.11). Clothing distinguishes these bare-breasted, partially clothed goddesses from their southern Levantine predecessors. The association of various elements (lion, tree/branch, heavenly bodies) with these goddesses suggests convergence of formerly distinctive deities or a multi-faceted deity (perhaps variously known as Ishtar, Astarte, Asherah, or the Queen of Heaven). With the exception of Lachish, none of the celestial goddesses comes from Judah proper, though biblical texts detail worship of the Queen of Heaven. Judahite refugees in Egypt attribute their former good health and welfare to the goddess (Jer 44:18). Families as well as kings and of�cials worship her; they bake cakes (�����) in her likeness, pour libations, and burn incense (Jer 7:18; 44:17–19, 25). Her title, Queen of Heaven, conceals her identity but she may be the local manifestation of Mesopotamian Ishtar as ����� is cognate to Akkadian kamanu, cakes offered to Ishtar (CAD 8 [1971], 110–11) (Houtman 1999; Held 1982).

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Judean Pillar Figurines The identity and functions of Judean Pillar Figurines (JPFs), which now number over 1000, remain enigmatic. These crudely made, terracotta images of females with a pillar base and arms crossed under their breasts stand 8–14 cm in height (Kletter 1996, 86, �gs. 4.1–2; 2001, 181) (����� ����). Both shape and weight facilitate easy grasping and carrying as well as allow them to stand on their own. Molded heads depict tightly curled locks (Egyptian style), clearly distinguished facial features, and sometimes a hood or cap. Their more simple sisters display a �nger-pinched face with eye indentations and a squeezed protruding nose. Arms consist of clay rolls crudely attached at the shoulders meeting under the breasts. The most notable feature is certainly the prominent bosom, further accentuated by the encircling arms. Many �gurines preserve traces of overall white wash with details added in black, red, and yellow paint: jewelry (necklace, arm bands), make-up (rouge and eye-liner), and a headdress (Kletter 1996, 50). While the lack of navel or genitalia suggest the �gure might be clothed from the waist down, neither paint nor incisions indicate a garment so the �gure is likely nude and only half anthropomorphic with a suggestive lower half. Similar pillar bases for southern Levantine birds and Cypriot male �gurines suggest the �aring bottom serves to stabilize the standing �gurine (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 323, �g. 320), but this functional explanation does not preclude it also representing the pole or tree that symbolizes the goddess Asherah.

Figure 7. Judean pillar �gurine. Tomb 5, Beth Shemesh. Eighth–sixth century B.C.E. After Kletter 1996, 86, �g. 4.1., cf. discussion at p. 177. Used with permission.

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Figure 8. Judean pillar �gurine. Gezer. Eighth–sixth century B.C.E. After Kletter 1996, 86, �g. 4.2, cf. discussion at p. 180. Used with permission.

How are we to interpret the �gurine? No distinguishing marks—of individual, mortal, or divine identity, age, or status—assist in identi�cation and interpretation. Is this nude female with “Dolly Parton” contours erotic or sexy? Do the exposed breasts serve a symbolic or functional purpose? Do the variant crude and molded heads suggest anonymity, all women, or a single female known to all? Is she a goddess, a divine associate, a vehicle for sympathetic magic, or a mortal? Details of date, distribution, and manufacture help to ascertain a range of possible meanings and functions. Judean Pillar Figurines, with 96% from the heartland of Judah, begin in the late tenth or ninth century B.C.E., attain their greatest numbers from the eighth through the late seventh centuries B.C.E., and cease before the Persian period (Kletter 2001, 183, 185, �g. 12). The few early examples appear at Tel Qasile near the coast (end of the tenth or ninth century B.C.E., though this �gure holds something below the breasts), and at Shephelah (Lachish, Beth Shemesh) and northern Negev sites (Tel Erani, Beer Sheva, Arad) (Kletter 1996, Appendix 1). Based on these few �gurines, perhaps the population of the Shephelah, the transitional territory between the coast with the salacious females and highlands with the tree, fashioned a composite image combining a tree/pole/pillar base with a nude, female upper body. The resulting �gurine may represent the goddess Asherah with a pole/tree-like lower body or a combined Asherah-Astarte. From there, the �gurine proliferates through the Judahite heartland with the greatest concentration in the Jerusalem vicinity. Petrography indicates regional production; Jerusalem and Tel Ira JPFs utilized Jerusalemvicinity terra-rossa clay and Negev loess clay, respectively (Yellin 1996; Kletter 2001, 188). Regional production suggests controlled manufacture and distribution by an authorized source or sources.

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Kletter cautiously estimates “a few dozen moulds for all the JPFs [heads]” and distinguishes regional variation (1996, 52; 2001, 183, 189). Utilizing molds enables mass production and reduces the necessary skills and time needed to produce standardized, inexpensive, images. The standardized iconography then promotes widespread recognition and identi�cation, which over time conveys authority and legitimacy (Petty 2006, 38). Breakage patterns and archaeological context also inform discussions of the �gurines’ identity and function. Protruding elements on small clay �gurines designed for transport are prone to break. Most damage occurs at weak points or on projecting appendages indicating accidental rather than intentional breakage (Kletter 1996, Appendix 1). Judean Pillar Figurines, intact and broken, have been retrieved from contexts in conjunction with both the living and the dead: tombs, homes, public buildings, the Arad temple, city forti�cations, cisterns, pits, silos, streets, and assorted debris deposits (Kletter 1996, �gs. 31, 35). Some contexts indicate use while others result from disposal practices (e.g., �ll in pits, rubbish in the street). Such diverse contexts demonstrate widespread rather than restrictive use and disposal along with common household items. Apparently, the �gurine possessed no special status that warranted distinctive ritual decommissioning or burial at the time of disposal. Let us now consider evidence for and against divinity. Regarding arguments favoring a mortal, none are conclusive. Disposal in domestic refuse pits or elsewhere, without special treatment, might indicate either divine or mortal representations. Was the medium—cheap clay—the message? Limited expenditure of time and resources to produce the �gurine implies low status. However, the a/Asherah of the Jerusalem temple burned by Josiah likely consisted of a wooden pole (2 Kgs 23:6). While also an inexpensive and readily available medium, it possessed divine status. Thus, we can conclude that the constituent material did not necessarily indicate status. As noted in the introduction, select features suggest sacred status. Based on texts and a limited number of representations, Iron Age mortal women wore clothing that covered their upper and lower body. Frontal nudity likely signaled crossing a boundary or category, as from mortal to divine or supernatural. For JPFs, the encircling arms serve to accentuate visually the breasts, which range from small and perky to massive and pendulous. Perhaps the offered breasts portray the engorged breasts of a lactating woman. Already in 1932, A. Lods interpreted holding the breasts as an aid to lactation (Lods 1932, 136). Lactation improves the 1

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infant’s chances of survival and regular nursing delays impregnation (Hrdy 1999, 136–37, 194–95). Encouraging mothers to nurse infants increases investment in surviving newborns and reduces the number of pregnancies and births, which diminishes mothers’ risk of death due to complications in pregnancy and childbirth. This interpretation shifts the emphasis from births to surviving children. Milking this argument for all its worth, the nudity favors a divinity over a mortal. So this �gurine of a fertility goddess or divine intercessor may have served to promote lactation. Our �gurine may be comparable to the painting from the tomb of Thutmoses III (ca. 1502–1448 B.C.E.), admittedly earlier than our �gurines, depicting a tree offering a breast to the suckling king (Keel 1997, �g. 253). JPFs resemble the tomb painting with their trunk-like base and proffered breasts, but a female head replaces the branches of the Egyptian rendering. Utilizing texts and inscriptions as a guide to Iron IIB-C cultic practices, Judahites worshipped the goddesses Asherah, Ashtart, and the Queen of Heaven (Jer 7:44). Of these goddesses, only the fecund Athiratu/Asherah promotes fertility as the mother of the seventy gods of the Ugaritic pantheon (KTU 1.4 VI 46). A/asherah, as the goddess or her cult symbol, also appears most prominently in both biblical citations and southern Levantine inscriptions. Early eighth-century B.C.E. inscriptions from Kuntillet Ajrud and the last quarter of the eighth-century B.C.E. Khirbet el-Qom inscription #3 invoke a/Asherah in association with Yahweh (Dobbs-Allsopp et al. 2005, 285, 290, 293, 296, 409). According to the Bible, Israelite leaders and citizens alike venerated Asherah and her symbol, a wooden post, from the period of the Judges (Judg 6:25–30) through the Divided Kingdom. She stood alongside Yahweh (and Baal) in Israelite (1 Kgs 14; 16; 18; 2 Kgs 13; 17; 23) and Judahite (1 Kgs 14; 15; 2 Kgs 18; 21; 23) temples, including the Jerusalem temple, and on hilltops (Deut 16:21; Jer 17:2, see also Isa 17:8; 27:9). Textual witnesses disdain her presence and omit mention of her attributes. Given Asherah’s prominent position within the Yahwistic cult, including standing in the Jerusalem temple through the mid-seventh century B.C.E., and her invocations in conjunction with Yahweh, the distribution of an inexpensive icon that incorporates her trademark tree/pole image seems plausible. While the fertility goddess Asherah—either as an independent goddess or as a facet of Yahweh—seems the likely identi�cation, JPFs may personify an amalgamated goddess or an (ancestral) intercessoress through whom one made appeals for divine favors.

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Images and Sacred Texts as Conveyors of Gender Roles Biblical texts and stories legitimate and disseminate cultural norms, including gendered roles. From the time of creation and human attainment of knowledge, sexes and genders are differentiated. Adam and Eve’s expulsion from the Garden of Eden entails toil in the �elds for men and painful birthing for women (Gen 3:16–19). Biblical women do not sit idly at home as the men hunt and farm the �elds. The gendered, timeconsuming, tedious chores of textile production (spinning and weaving), food preparation (grinding, cooking, and baking), and child rearing �ll their days (Exod 35:25–26; Lev 26:26; 1 Sam 8:13; 2 Sam 3:29; 2 Kgs 23:7; Prov 31:13–19). With regard to gendered roles, the Bible follows ancient Near Eastern norms. For example, Ur III texts associate males with physical and societal power, hunting, and extramural activity, and females with procreation, plants, and intramural activities (typically child rearing, weaving, and cooking). An Ur III birth incantation intones, “If it is a male, he holds in his hand a weapon and an ax, which is his strength of heroship. If it is a female, she holds in her hand a spindle and a decorated comb” (quoted in Asher-Greve 2002, 13). Most stories situate women within the family context and identify them in relation to men. Women are validated by and dependent on males and male offspring—their fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons. Accordingly, texts typically introduce women as a wife, daughter, virgin, bride, widow, or harlot. Once married, women pray for children, with sons more prized than daughters, and spend their days in gendered activities—raising children and performing tedious domestic chores. Tamar (Gen 38) and Ruth (Ruth 4:17) exemplify women who at great personal expense persevere to bear a son in order to continue their husband’s genealogical lines. Having served their purpose, genealogies often omit the mothers from the patrilineage (e.g., Gen 5; Ruth 4). In the realm of ritual as public performance, males take center stage. R. Gilchrist comments, “Group lifecycle rites are public performances in the theatrical sense, with actors and audience participating in the creation of gender difference and identity” (quoted in Bolger 2003, 83). Androcentric Israelite society enacts circumcision (the marking of male members of the community), naming according to patrilineal descent, patrilocal residence at marriage, and patrilocal burial to af�rm male domination through public ritual. For ancient Israel, the male deity modeled—some would say re�ected—male leadership. All priests and virtually all rulers, prophets, and civil and military leaders are males. Very few women achieve positions of high status and power in the 1

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public realm, either civil or religious. Within the cult, women work as charismatic prophetesses and in non-sanctioned positions that require no of�cial cultic credentials, as establishment “servers” (Exod 38:8; 1 Sam 2:22) and sancti�ed personnel (“cultic prostitute”) (Gen 38:21–22; Hos 4:14; Deut 23:18), and as non-establishment intermediaries such as necromancers (Exod 22:17; 1 Sam 28; Isa 57:3). These roles are eventually banned or disparaged by the textual authors and editors (e.g., Deut 18:10–12; 1 Sam 28.3). The prophetess and judge Deborah (Judg 4:4–16), the Woman of Endor (1 Sam 28), Queens and Queen Mothers including Bathsheba, Jezebel, and Athaliah (1 Kgs 1; 19; 2 Kgs 11:1– 16), and the prophetess Hulda (2 Kgs 22:14–20) are exceptions to the norm. According to the Bible, from the time of creation, women ful�lled the gendered roles of bearing and nurturing children and serving their father’s or husband’s household. They perpetuated a patriarchal, patrilineal, and patrimonial society, with few positions of authority open to them. The Message Conveyed This survey of representative Bronze and Iron Age images from the southern Levant demonstrates regionalism and shows that Israel adopts an image that combines elements from her predecessors and neighbors. The pillar’s evocation of a tree or pole situates the JPFs as a continuation of the sacred tree exempli�ed by the Middle Bronze Age Syrian cylinder seal and the Late Bronze Age Egyptian tomb painting. Rejecting the coastal and Shephelah images of the full, frontal, curvaceous nude (and her lion), the Iron IIB-C highland settlers embrace a bare-breasted JPF. Who produced the �gurines and why? What were the intentions of those who produced them and the perceptions of those who used them? With the notable exception of R. Byrne’s article suggesting state manufacture of JPFs to encourage births for national viability (Byrne 2004, 145–49), no one has ventured contextual explanations for the �gurines. Standardization and regional production favor a centralized authority over individual or local production, and the traditional depiction communicates human fecundity. If the �gurines, most likely disseminated by the state, promote nursing with consequent lengthened periods between pregnancies, then the authorities encourage mothers to invest time and energy in fewer surviving children rather than more numerous births. If not meant to promote nursing, the explicitly female �gurine that evokes a pole likely represents the goddess Asherah or her qualities in the process of being subsumed by the dominant male, Yahweh.

16

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What gendered roles did these �gurines clothed in an aura of timeless divinity communicate to ancient Israelites, and especially women? Did women regard the physical depiction as a call to burn their bras? All indications, both textual and iconographic, suggest that being clothed rather than naked or partially naked was the norm for women. Nakedness in the biblical story of creation (Gen 2–3) elicited shame and vulnerability. Southern Levantine female �gurines of the Iron Age embody and convey this vulnerability, a quality further emphasized by the stance with feet together (or no legs) in an obedient, demure, and static rather than assertive pose. Our female �gurine could adopt a more aggressive stance, lift her arms in benediction or belligerence, wield a weapon or a more forceful object than a breast, wear armor or clothing similar to a god’s, or display an explicit sign of divinity. Any of these markers would indicate an elevated standing within the male-dominated divine realm. The God of Israel was clothed in robes and splendor; the goddess stood naked, exposed, penetrable, and pregnable. This interpretation of the �gurine corresponds to the biblical presentation of female goddesses and humans. Women achieved status through bearing children, preferably sons, to continue her husband’s genealogical line. Texts and the ubiquitous JPFs, likely both produced by the male-dominated authorities (religious and civil), inculcate and propagate the woman’s role as nurturing mother. Bibliography Asher-Greve, J. 2002. Decisive Sex, Essential Gender. Pages 11–26 in Sex and Gender in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 47th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Helsinki, July 2–6, 2001. Edited by S. Parpola and R. Whiting. 2 vols. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Asher-Greve, J., and D. Sweeney. 2006. On Nakedness, Nudity, and Gender in Egyptian and Mesopotamian Art. Pages 125–76 in Schroer 2006. Beck, P. 1994. The Cult-Stands from Taanach: Aspects of the Iconographic Tradition of Early Iron Age Cult Objects in Palestine. Pages 352–81 in From Nomadism to Monarchy: Archaeological and Historical Aspects of Early Israel. Edited by I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman. Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi and Israel Exploration Society; Washington: Biblical Archaeology Society. Bolger, D. 2003. Gender in Ancient Cyprus: Narratives of Social Change on a Mediterranean Island. GA 6. Walnut Creek: AltaMira. Byrne, R. 2004. Lie Back and Think of Judah: The Reproductive Politics of Pillar Figurines. NEA 67:137–51. Dietrich, M., O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín, eds. 1995. The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places (KTU). 2d English ed. ALASPM 8. Münster: Ugarit.

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Dobbs-Allsopp, F. W., J. J. M. Roberts, C. L. Seow, and R. E. Whitaker. 2005. Hebrew Inscriptions: Texts from the Biblical Period of the Monarchy with Concordance. New Haven: Yale University Press. Gitin, S., and A. Golani. 2001. The Tel Miqne-Ekron Silver Hoards: The Assyrian and Phoenician Connections. Pages 27–48 in Hacksilber to Coinage: New Insights into the Monetary History of the Near East and Greece: A Collection of Eight Papers Presented at the 99th Annual Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America. Edited by M. Balmuth. NS 24. New York: American Numismatic Society. Held, M. 1982. Studies in Biblical Lexicography in the Light of Akkadian. ErIsr 16 (Orlinsky volume):76–85. Houtman, C. 1999. Queen of Heaven. Pages 678–80 in Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Edited by K. van der Toorn, B. Becking, and P. van der Horst. 2d rev. ed. Leiden: Brill. Hrdy, S. 1999. Mother Nature: A History of Mothers, Infants, and Natural Selection. New York: Pantheon. Keel, O. 1997. The Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Book of Psalms. Translated by T. Hallett. New York: Seabury, 1978. Repr., Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger. 1998. Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel. Minneapolis: Fortress. Kletter, R. 1996. The Judean Pillar-Figurines and the Archaeology of Asherah. BAR IS 636. Oxford: Tempus Reparatum. ———. 2001. Between Archaeology and Theology: The Pillar Figurines from Judah and the Asherah. Pages 179–216 in Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan. Edited by A. Mazar. JSOTSup 331. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Academic Press. Kletter, R., I. Ziffer, and W. Zwickel. 2006. Cult Stands of the Philistines: A Genizah from Yavneh, Israel. NEA 69:146–59. Lods, A. 1932. Israel from Its Beginnings to the Middle of the Eighth Century. Translated by S. H. Hooke. HoC. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. Mazar, A. 1985. Pottery Plaques Depicting Goddesses Standing in the Temple Facades. Mich 2:5–18 (Hebrew). Mazar, A., and N. Panitz-Cohen. 2007. It Is the Land of Honey: Beekeeping at Tel Rehov. NEA 70:202–19. Ornan, T. 2001. The Bull and its Two Masters—Moon and Storm Deities in Relation to the Bull in Ancient Near Eastern Art? IEJ 51:1–26. Pardee, D. 2007. Preliminary Presentation of a New Ugaritic Song to �Attartu (RIH 98/02). Pages 27–39 in Ugarit at Seventy-Five. Edited by K. L. Younger Jr. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Petty, A. 2006. Bronze Age Anthropomorphic Figurines from Umm el-Marra, Syria: Chronology, Visual Analysis and Function. BAR IS 1575. Oxford: Archaeopress. Potts, T. et al. 1985. Preliminary Report on a 6th Season of Excavations by the University of Sydney at Pella in Jordan 1983/84. ADAJ 29:181–210. Schroer, S. 2006. Images and Gender: Contributions to the Hermeneutics of Reading Ancient Art. OBO 220. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

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Smith, M. 2002. The Early History of God: Yahweh and the Other Deities in Ancient Israel. 2d ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. ———. 2003. When the Heavens Darkened: Yahweh, El, and the Divine Astral Family in Iron Age II Judah. Pages 265–77 in Symbiosis, Symbolism, and the Power of the Past: Canaan, Ancient Israel, and Their Neighbors from the Late Bronze Age Through Roman Palaestina. Edited by W. Dever and S. Gitin. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. ———. 2008. God in Translation: Deities in Cross-Cultural Discourse in the Biblical World. FAT 57. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Uehlinger, C. 1997. Anthropomorphic Cult Statuary in Iron Age Palestine and the Search for Yahweh’s Cult Images. Pages 97–155 in The Image and the Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East. Edited by K. van der Toorn. CBET 21. Leuven: Peeters. Ward, W. 1996. The Goddess within the Façade of a Shrine: A Phoenician Clay Plaque of the 8th c. RSF 24:7–19. Weinberg, S. 1978. A Moabite Shrine Group. Muse 12:30–48. Yellin, J. 1996. Appendix D: Chemical Characterization of the City of David Figurines and Inferences About Their Origin. Pages 90–99 in Various Reports. Edited by D. Ariel et al. Qedem 35. Vol. 4 of Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Zevit, Z. 2001. The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis of Parallactic Approaches. New York: Continuum.

1

MIXED CREATURES AND THE ASSYRIAN INFLUENCE ON THE WEST SEMITIC GLYPTIC REPERTOIRE Rüdiger Schmitt

1. Introduction The in�uence of Assyrian religion on �rst-millennium B.C.E. West Semitic religion is witnessed by the Hebrew Bible referring to the host of heaven (2 Kgs 23:5; cf. Deut 4:19), the queen of heaven (Jer 7:18; 44:17–19, 25), and the horses of the sun-god (2 Kgs 23:11), and has been described by scholars as the “Assyrian crisis” of late Judahite religion. The precise meaning and implications of this supposed “Assyrian crisis” have been subjects of ongoing discussion since 1970. McKay (1973) argued that, rather than arising from religious pressure by the hegemonic power, this crisis of the national religious self-con�dence was due to a Syrian-Canaanite syncretism rooted in older traditions. Similarly, Donner (1986, 332) described the “Assyrian crisis” as nothing more than a Canaanization of the YHWH-religion. According to Coogan (1974), Judah as an Assyrian vassal was never confronted with pressure to participate in the Assyrian imperial cult. Rather, assimilation took place in a less de�ned manner within the cosmopolitan atmosphere. Spieckermann (1982, 371) presented an alternative argument that there was at least a degree of Assyrian pressure placed upon the of�cial religion of Judah, but that the main impact of Assyrian religion arose through an of�cial religious compromise. Furthermore, Albertz (1994, 188–89) observed aspects of Assyrian in�uence leading to of�cial syncretism, but only in the presence of a much stronger impact of Assyrian cultic elements, especially practices of divination within family religion, re�ecting a general fascination for, and attraction towards, the religion of the victorious Assyrians. In considering the iconographic evidence, Keel and Uehlinger (1998, §§166–215, esp. §211) denied the entire argument of Canaanite “survival,” and emphasized both Assyrian and Aramean in�uence on the Judahite symbolic system, together with a retreat of the role of protection deities.

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It is quite clear, both from the textual and iconographical evidence, that there must have been a considerable impact of the Assyrian symbol system on the stratum of of�cial religion in Judah, but in a similar way also on the stratum of personal and familiar religion that is re�ected by the repertoire of the private seals. These seals have adopted stylistic elements of Assyrian glyptic art and also a variety of motifs, particularly astral deities and astral symbolism, such as depictions of the Pleiades and other heavenly bodies (Ornan 1993; Parayre 1993; Keel and Uehlinger 1998, §§168–188; Albertz and Schmitt 2012, 369–77).1 The West Semitic glyptic repertoire adopted motifs showing mixed creatures from contemporary Mesopotamia, such as the ugallu-demon, the scorpion-man, or girtablullû, the Lamassu/aladlammû, the winged bull, bull-men supporting a sun disc, the winged horse, and the winged lion. The aims of this study are to discuss the local adoptions of these motifs and to determine if these representations re�ect the direct (i.e., conceptual) impact of Mesopotamian religious beliefs on the local symbol systems or rather a more general cultural in�uence (cf. Parayre 1993; Uehlinger 1993, 262). Methodologically, the full assimilation of a motif may be identi�ed if we have a signi�cant series of objects (cf. Uehlinger 1993, 268) and not only solitary examples. The investigation of these motifs on private seals will help us to determine (1) how profoundly Assyrian religion in�uenced the realm of private or family religion in �rst-millennium B.C.E. Western Asia, and (2) whether similar motifs re�ect simply the art of stone-carving and the preferences of stonecarvers. 2. Mixed Creatures in Egyptianizing Phoenician Koiné Style The vast majority of mixed creatures in the West Semitic glyptic repertoire follow the conventions of the Egyptianizing Phoenician koiné style, particularly the winged uraeus, the sphinx, and the grif�n. Twoand four-winged forms of the uraeus (see, respectively, Keel and Uehlinger 1998, nos. 247b, 247d) appear as the primary motif upon many inscribed and uninscribed Hebrew seals of the eighth and seventh centuries B.C.E., as well as on Transjordanian (cf. Eggler and Keel 2006, Ain al-Bascha �g. 1; Amman �g. 70; Umeiri �g. 50) and Phoenician or Aramean seals (cf. Gubel 1993, �gs. 12–18; Avigad and Sass 1997, �gs. 796, 1091, 1124). The motif is clearly Egyptian in origin, but in its fourwinged form typical of the Syro-Phoenician koiné style, it shows no 1. On the more general aspects of the impact of Assyrian iconography on Israel and Judah, see Schmitt 2001, 197–98. 1

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Assyrian in�uence at all. This is also the case for the sphinx, in both standing (cf. Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 249, Lachish region; Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 369) and crouching forms (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 246 from Megiddo = Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 1124, rendered as unde�ned), that already occurred in the Middle Bronze Age upon scarabs from Palestine (Tufnell 1984, 134, pl. XLI) as well as from the Old Syrian glyptic repertoire (e.g., Collon 1988, �gs. 206, 213). Sphinxes were also a popular motif upon ancient Near Eastern ivories of the �rst millennium B.C.E. from places such as Nimrud and Arslan Tash (Barnett 1982, pl. 47a, 49e, 50a, 51, 53). From Israel, they occurred upon the Samaria ivories (e.g., Crowfoot and Crowfoot 1938, pl. V-VII; XIV, 5– 7; see also Schmitt 2001, 129–30), and upon a fragment of an ivory pyxis from Hazor (Barnett 1982, pl. 45e). In the Iron Age, sphinxes also occasionally occurred on Egyptian-type amulets (Herrmann 1994, nos. 277, 278; Herrmann 2002, �g. 40). One terracotta �gurine of a sphinx was found in Beer-sheba (Kletter and Herzog 2003). Likewise, the winged grif�n is by far one of the most frequently occurring motifs found upon Iron Age seals from Israel and Judah (e.g., Keel and Uehlinger 1998, nos. 250a, b), as well as from Philistia, Ammon, Moab, Edom, Phoenicia, and Aram (cf. Eggler and Keel 2006, Tall al-Mazar �g. 24, Amman �g. 54; Avigad and Sass 1997, �gs. 747, 780, 819, 893, 901, 1023, 1055, 1056), as well as upon an even larger number of seals of indeterminate origin (cf. Avigad and Sass 1997, �gs. 1123, 1128, 1137, 1146, 1147, 1151, 1172, 1174, 1190, 1192). Thus, the grif�n motif comes clearly from the West Semitic glyptic traditions, even if it is depicted on an Assyrianstyle seal from Gezer found in a �fth-century tomb but most likely dating to the Iron IIC period (Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 293a, §172). 3. Mixed Creatures in Assyrian Style 3.1. Ugallu-Demon Though the depictions of mixed creatures in West Semitic glyptic arts show a strong commitment to the local traditions in the koiné style, there is also evidence for Assyrian in�uence. Three inscribed seals depict the ugallu-demon: two Aramean (������������: Avigad and Sass 1997, �gs. 758, 858) and one from Ammon (�����: Eggler and Keel 2006, Amman, �g. 5). While �����, which shows the ugallu together with an il b�ti protective spirit, and ����� are most likely Assyrian imports, ����� is a local adoption. Ornan (1993, 58) has suggested that the creature in ����� is an eagle-headed apkallu, but the ears and clawed feet point to an ugallu. From my investigations, the bird-headed apkallu does not appear to be represented in the �rst-millennium glyptic repertoire from Western Asia.

22

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Figure 1. Ugallu-demon, Aramean. After Avigad and Sass 1997, 758 (side view). Used with permission.

Figure 2. Ugallu-demon, Aramean. After Avigad and Sass 858. Used with permission.

Figure 3. Ugallu-demon, Ammonite. After Eggler and Keel 2006, Amman No. 5. Used with permission.

Figure 4. Winged bull man, Ammonite. After Eggler and Keel 2006, Amman 6. Used with permission.

3.2. Standing Winged Bull The standing winged bull in a local adoption of Assyrian style is represented by an Ammonite seal from Amman (�����: Eggler and Keel 2006, Amman �g. 6 = Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 973), but seems to be a solitary motif. A sitting version is known from an Aramean seal (Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 759) and another standing bull is depicted on a Persian period cylinder seal (Eggler and Keel 2006, Umeiri �g. 77, Ammonite). In Mesopotamia the winged bull is associated with the “bull of heaven” episode from the Gilgamesh epic, as on Neo-Assyrian seals (e.g., Collon 1988, �g. 857). For the West Semitic realm we have no reason to believe that these mythological connections were known; we can just imagine that the winged bull was perhaps associated with the 1

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23

weather god. Bull-men supporting a sun disc (�����: Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 783, Aramean) are a common motif in Neo-Assyrian glyptic arts, but not found in Judah, Ammon, or Moab. Other winged creatures are the winged horses, in one case attested on a seal of unclear origin (�����: Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 1113), which seems to be an import with a secondary West Semitic inscription. In Mesopotamia, the winged horse belongs among the demonic creatures against which heroes �ght in contest scenes. Also solitary is the winged lion (Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 1159), which is also most likely an imported seal with a secondary West Semitic inscription. Different from the seals in the Syro-Phoenician koiné style, the objects presented here depicting mixed creatures are mostly unique or imported and do not form a signi�cant series in the local West Semitic glyptic repertoires. Most likely the motifs were simply adopted as apotropaic �gures in a more general sense, without a deeper understanding of their background in the Mesopotamian symbol system. The adoption of these motifs on West Semitic and Judahite seals therefore re�ects more likely general cultural in�uences on glyptic art than any direct in�uence of religious beliefs. Some motifs, however, deserve a closer look.

Figure 5. Bull men, Aramean. After Avigad and Sass 1997, 783. Used with permission.

Figure 6. Winged horse, origin unclear. After Avigad and Sass 1997, 1113. Used with permission.

Figure 7. Scorpion man, Hebrew, with l�mlk inscription. After Sass 1993, 125. Used with permission.

Figure 8. Scorpion man, Aramean. After Avigad and Sass 1997, 758 (underside). Used with permission.

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3.3. The Scorpion-man The scorpion-man was found upon only one Hebrew seal, inscribed l�mlk (�����: Sass 1993, 226, �g. 125 = Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 159). It has been considered either to have been of Moabite (Timm 1993, �g. 14) or Phoenician origin. The motif is also known from one Aramean seal (���� �: Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 758) with a scorpion-man supporting a moon-sickle. The style of the l�mlk-seal is Phoenician, while the Aramaic seal is of purely Assyrian iconography, showing an ugallu-demon on its obverse side. Within Mesopotamia, the scorpionman, or girtablullû, appeared within representations of the late third millennium and is well represented within Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian glyptic art, where it appears either as a protective spirit or holding the sun disc (���� �: Jakob-Rost 1997, �gs. 332–33; cf. Porada 1948, �gs. 712, 783–84, 801; Collon 1988, �g. 883). The creature also appears as a prophylactic �gurine in Neo-Assyrian times (Rittig 1977, 78–79; �gs. 24–24). As with many other symbols occasionally borrowed from Assyrian iconography, the presence of the scorpion-man shows the in�uence of the iconography of Assyria, rather than its beliefs, even though the �gure may have been revered as an apotropaic �gure.

1

Figure 9. Girtablullû. Jakob-Rost 1997, 84–85, items 332 and 333, see also plate 6). Used with permission.

Figure 10. Lamassu, Judahite. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 331b. Used with permission.

Figure 11. Lamassu, Ammonite. After Avigad and Sass 1997, 925. Used with permission.

Figure 12. Sphinxes as pedestals. After Collon 1988, 879. Used with permission.

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3.4. Lamassu/aladlammû In the corpus of Iron Age II Judahite stamp seals, a Lamassu or aladlammû-like creature appears upon one seal (���� ��: Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 331b = Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 173). The creature was depicted in accordance with Assyrian conventions as a male bull with bearded face and a horned crown surmounted by a sun disc. A similar creature lacking the horned crown was depicted upon an Ammonite seal that has been dated to the second half of the eighth or the early seventh century (������: Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 925). This latter creature has been generally considered to have been a sphinx (Hübner 1993, �g. 144; Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 925). The motif is clearly borrowed from the contemporary Assyrian repertoire, where the winged bull creature was often represented either as a singular motif (see, e.g., Porada 1948, �g. 633; although such representations are sometimes dif�cult to discern from similar sphinx-like creatures with leonine bodies) or within larger contest scenes (e.g., Porada 1948, �gs. 611–15). It was also present upon Syrian seals that imitated the Assyrian style (Collon 1988, �gs. 385–86). The use of winged bull creatures as pedestals for higher deities is not represented within contemporary Mesopotamian iconography; nevertheless, we �nd sphinxes as pedestals for apkallu �gures (������: Collon 1988, �g. 879). The style of the seal manifests Assyrian in�uence, but also clearly represents a Judahite interpretation and suggests a local association of the aladlammû with the cherub, as Keel and Uehlinger have pointed out (1998, §197). 3.5. Figure with Goat Horns One solitary name seal depicts a goat-shaped creature standing with a crescent in front of an offering stand or degenerated ankh symbol (���� ��: Avigad and Sass 1997, �g. 34). This seal is somewhat remarkable since the goat-demon is quite a rare motif in �rst-millennium Mesopotamian glyptic art. Collon (1988, �g. 880) cites one example. Though she regards it as a sphinx, its horns and bodily features clearly characterize it as a goat. The iconography of the Baqqashat seal is clearly of Assyrian origin. The goat-creature is also attested in the local style, as evinced by seals from Gezer, Samaria, and Tell es-Sa� (������: Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 361a; cf. �gs. 361 b-c, all Iron III/Persian period). Nevertheless, since we have no distinctive series of the Mesopotamian-style and the Phoenician-style goat-creatures, we may assume with Münnich (2006, 529) a local interpretation. The image would then represent a demon like the biblical ���îrîm (hairy ones), often interpreted as goatdemons (Lev 17:7; 2 Kgs 23:8; Isa 13:21; 34:14), and here, of course, would serve an apotropaic function.

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Figure 13. Goat creature. Line drawing after photograph in Avigad and Sass 1997, 34.

Figure 14. Goat creature. Gezer. Iron Age III. Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 361a). Used with permission.

4. Conclusions According to the evidence of West Semitic seals depicting astral motifs and astral deities like the moon god of Harran and the goddess Ishtar, there is on the one hand a manifest in�uence of the Assyrian symbol system in the West Semitic realm and in Judah, which is also re�ected in the biblical texts referring to the host of heaven (2 Kgs 23:5; cf. Deut 4:19), the queen of heaven (Jer 7:18; 44:17–19:25), and so on. It can be assumed that the astral motifs on private seals, which form a signi�cant series of objects, re�ect both an in�uence on the realm of of�cial religion as well as on personal piety (see Albertz and Schmitt 2012, 369– 78). On the other hand, Mesopotamian mixed creatures in local adoptions are mostly attested on solitary seals from Judah, Ammon, and Moab without forming a distinctive series of objects. Thus we can conclude that the impact of Mesopotamian religion on the West Semitic symbol system in�uenced the beliefs in astral deities, but not the symbol system connected with apotropaic �gures, where the West Semitic symbol system remains dominant. Also, Mesopotamian demonology seems to have had no great impact on western Asia. From Judah we only know one Lamaštu-amulet from the Shephelah, which most likely is an item imported by Assyrians (see Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 399; §258). The random local adoptions of demonic �gures do not re�ect a deeper understanding of the beliefs connected with them. Rather, they have been interpreted in the West Semitic realm as general apotropaic �gures. The depiction of these mixed creatures on West Semitic seals is therefore best to be interpreted as a more general cultural in�uence, particularly on the art of stone-carving, rather than a manifestly religious and conceptual 1

SCHMITT Mixed Creatures and the Assyrian In�uence

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in�uence. Direct Assyrian in�uence on the West Semitic belief systems was most likely mediated by the of�cial cult and the collaborating social elites, and it included primarily the veneration of the astral deities. A deeper knowledge and adoption of Mesopotamian demonology and angelology is not evinced by the glyptic arts. Most likely, a developed demonology in ancient Israel emerged as late as the Persian-Hellenistic periods (cf. Frey-Anthes 2007, 305). Bibliography Albertz, R. 1994. A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period. 2 vols. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Albertz, R., and R. Schmitt. 2012. Family and Household Religion in Ancient Israel and the Levant. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Avigad, N., and B. Sass. 1997. Corpus of West Semitic Stamp Seals. Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. Barnett, R. 1982. Ancient Ivories in the Middle East. Qedem 14. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology. Collon, D. 1988. First Impressions: Cylinder Seals in the Ancient Near East. London: British Museum Publications. Coogan, M. 1974. Imperialism and Religion in Assyria, Judah and Israel in the 8th and 7th Centuries B.C.E. SBLMS 19. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Crowfoot, J., and G. Crowfoot. 1938. Early Ivories from Samaria, Samaria-Sebaste II. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Donner, H. 1986. Von der Königszeit bis zu Alexander dem Grossen, mit einem Ausblick auf die Geschichte des Judentums bis Bar Kochba. Vol. 2 of Geschichte des Volkes Israel und seiner Nachbarn in Grundzügen. GAT 4/2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Eggler, J., and O. Keel. 2006. Corpus der Siegel-Amulette aus Jordanien. Vom Neolithikum bis zur Perserzeit. OBO.SA 25. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Frey-Anthes, H. 2007. Unheilsmächte und Schutzgenien, Antiwesen und Grenzgänger. Vorstellungen von “Dämonen” im Alten Israel. OBO 227. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Gubel, E. 1993. The Iconography of Inscribed Phoenician Glyptic. Pages 101–29 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993. Herrmann, C. 1994. Ägyptische Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Mit einem Ausblick auf ihre Rezeption durch das Alte Testament. OBO 138. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. –––––. 2002. Ägyptische Amulette aus Palästina/Israel II. OBO 184. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Hübner, U. 1993. Das ikonographische Repertoire der ammonitischen Siegel und seine Entwicklung. Pages 130–60 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993. Jakob-Rost, L. 1997. Die Stempelsiegel im Vorderasiatischen Museum Berlin. Darmstadt: Zabern.

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Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger. 1998. Göttinnen, Götter und Gottessymbole. QD 134. 4th ed. Freiburg: Herder. Kletter, R., and Z. Herzog. 2003. Hermaphrodita be Jehudah? Zelamit kentaur mitkupat habrezel be Tel Beer-Sheba. Qad 127:40–43. English translation: An Iron Age Hermaphrodite Centaur from Tel Beer Sheba. BASOR 331 (2003):27–38. McKay, J. 1973. Religion in Judah Under the Assyrians, 732–609 B.C.E. London: A. R. Allenson. Münnich, M. 2006. What Did the Biblical Goat-Demons Look Like? UF 38:525–35. Ornan, T.1993. Mesopotamian In�uence on West Semitic Inscribed Seals. Pages 52–72 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993. Parayre, D. 1993. A propos des sceaux ouest-sémitiques: le rôle de l’iconographie dans l’attribution d’un sceau à une aire culturelle ou à un atelier. Pages 27–51 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993. Porada, E., ed. 1948. The Collection of the Pierpont Morgan Library. Vol. 1 of Corpus of Ancient Near Eastern Seals in North American Collections. Edited by the Committee of Ancient Near Eastern Seals. BS 14. New York: Pantheon. Rittig, D. 1977. Assyrisch-babylonische Kleinplastik magischer Bedeutung vom 13.–6. Jh. v. Chr. MVS 1. Munich: Uni-Druck. Sass, B. 1993. The Pre-Exilic Hebrew Seals: Iconism vs. Aniconism. Pages 194–256 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993. Sass, B., and C. Uehlinger, eds. 1993. Studies in the Iconography of Northwest Semitic Inscribed Seals. OBO 125. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Schmitt, R. 2001. Bildhafte Herrschaftsrepräsentation im eisenzeitlichen Israel. AOAT 283. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Spieckermann, H. 1982. Juda unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit. FRLANT 129. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Timm, S. 1993. Das ikonographische Repertoire der moabitischen Siegel und seine Entwicklung: vom Maximalismus zum Minimalismus. Pages 161–93 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993. Tufnell, O. 1984. Studies on Scab Seals, vol. 2. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Uehlinger, C. 1993. Northwest Semitic Inscribed Seals, Iconography and Syro-Palestinian Religions of Iron Age II: Some Afterthoughts and Conclusions. Pages 257–88 in Sass and Uehlinger 1993.

1

THE FUNCTION AND MEANING OF MY �MN ON HEBREW SEALS IN LIGHT OF ACCOMPANYING ICONOGRAPHY* Meir Lubetski

Introduction Recent investigations of ancient inscribed iconic Hebrew seals and bullae focus primarily on the inscriptions, the name of the bearer and his patronymic according to a speci�c formula: l X bn Y “belonging to PN, son of PN.” Even if the word bn, “son of,” is lacking, the tendency is to read the inscription as a standardized formula. Scholars accept this view and never question it, much less think of alternatives. Moreover, the iconography is usually treated and described as ornamental; seldom is it analyzed. The goal of this paper is to show that the combination of two words on a seal or a bulla does not necessarily indicate the personal names of the bearer and his father. To wit: the word my�mn is found on seals and bullae in a variety of ways.1 It is inscribed on �ve seal impressions with another word. One seal displays the word my�mn as a single entity with an icon of a scorpion adorning the lower register. Only once, on an * I wish to thank the editors of this volume who invested much time and energy in reading my paper meticulously and making valuable suggestions. I am indebted to Professor Jeffrey Peck, Dean of the Weissman School of Liberal Arts and Sciences, Baruch College, and to Professor Elena Martinez, Chair of the Department of Modern Languages and Comparative Literature, as well as the PSC-CUNY Research Foundation, who provided me with funding and time to write this article. 1. Some of these objects have been found in controlled excavations, while others are unprovenanced. See Dobbs-Allsopp et al. (2005, 606) and Deutsch (2003, 1:233; 2011, 2: nos. 612, 628). Five impressions with the inscription my�mn are aniconic. The seal discussed in this article is, to my knowledge, the only iconic exemplar. However, there is a my�mn scarab seal in the Israel Museum that has a design on the reverse that might be a �sh spine. The obverse is divided in two parts: the upper register reads my�mn; the lower register contains four letters of which the �rst perhaps resembles the ancient Hebrew letter beth. Scholars are in doubt whether the letter indeed represents the complete word bn or belongs with the three remaining letters. See Hestrin and Dayagi-Mendeles (1979, no. 94).

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ostracon listing a group of individuals, is my�mn connected to another name, appearing with bn, “son of” (Deutsch and Heltzer 1995, 92, #[79] 4 line 5). It is unnecessary, therefore, to lump together the three different types and suggest that they all follow one general formula. It is true that often the seal was intended to serve a narrow purpose: to identify the owner by providing his pedigree. But there might have been patrons with unusual tastes or, for that matter, speci�c needs. For these patrons, the seal-cutters produced the exception to the rule. In any case, the absence of sameness merits a fresh approach to the examination of the specimens. Prevalent Explanations of the Term my�mn Scholars have percieved my�mn as a personal name. Avigad (1986, 68– 69, nos. 87, 88) has suggested that the suf�x �mn is derived from ��� or ����2 “faithfulness, truth,” a term well-attested in the Hebrew Bible.3 He assumed that the pre�x my is the interrogative pronoun “who” and that the combination of the two parts, my�mn, form the rhetorical question, “who is [the one] of truth?” (Avigad 1986, no. 87). Avigad’s explanation has been accepted universally and is cited wherever that word surfaces on an artifact. Neither Avigad nor any other researchers have explored the possibility that the two components my and �mn might, in fact, be two separate entities absorbed into the biblical or extra-biblical lexicon from a neighboring culture. I believe that my�mn, a compound phrase prevalent in late Egyptian, is an import to the collateral Hebrew vocabulary. Its components can be found separately in the Bible. Egyptian mry-Amun and my-Amun A helpful method for clarifying dif�cult biblical and early Hebrew idioms is to �nd parallels in ancient Eastern Mediterranean languages. In this respect, Late Egyptian literature is a rich but underutilized source. Those who have mined this highly developed language have recognized its indelible impact on Hebrew idioms and literature (Currid 1997; Hoffmeier 1997; Kitchen 1978; Gordon 1975). 2. Throughout this piece, transliteration is used for Hebrew inscriptions on seals, while Hebrew characters in Aramaic square script are reserved for direct references to the Hebrew text from the Bible. Words in ancient languages other than Hebrew also appear in transliteration. 3. According to Malamat (1950, 1:422–23), the name of the Judean King Amon was derived from this same root. 1

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Amun (�Imn) was a preeminent Egyptian deity in the late biblical era. Known as “the concealed one” of the city of Thebes, the deity is famous for being the divine creator, provider of life, and sustenance for the universe (Hornung 1982, 33–65; Lesko and Lesko 2002, 1:30). Egyptian scribes stressed Amun’s affection for his devotees through the epithet mry �Imn or my �Imn,4 “beloved of Amun.” Hence, a literary report in praise of Merneptah (1224–1214 B.C.E.) cites the king’s name as “the soul of Re, beloved of Amun (my �Imn).”5 Later Egyptian monarchs continued to incorporate this epithet in their names. For example, a silver bezel �nger-ring seal inscription of Psamtek II (595–589 B.C.E.) from the period of the waning of the Judean monarchy shows the phrase my�Imn integrated into the king’s title: “bene�cent of heart, beloved of Amun-Re (my [mry] �Imn R�) [and] Bastet.”6 This Egyptian formula mry/my �Imn is not only part of the king’s titular name, but it is a common epithet of the (High) Priests of Amun, even of other viziers connected to the temple of the god.7 Though it was used by dignitaries and of�cials, the title penetrated Egyptian onomastics as well. “(The) beloved one of Amun,” (p � )-mrj-�Imn, is also a relatively common name from the New Kingdom forward (Ranke 1935–77, 1:105, no. 10). �mn and mry in the Biblical Text Did references to the Egyptian god Amun enter biblical literature? Indeed so. During the late monarchy, Amun appears in reference to the famous Egyptian center, Thebes, city of the deity. Jeremiah prophesied 4. One should note that Egyptologists transliterate the �owering reed hieroglyph variously as i, j, or �. At the beginning of some words it possesses the value similar to the Egyptian aleph (� ). Two reeds together are rendered ii (jj) or y, or sometimes simply i (j). At the end of a word the y sign is represented by two �owering reeds or two oblique strokes (Gardiner 1957, §20; §72–73; Brunner 1979, §4). 5. Gardiner 1937, 29, line 2 (7, 9); also p. 28, line 8 (7.2). Note that the word my is written with one symbol, the hoe, here (Gardiner 1957, Sign List, U.8). 6. Hall 1913, 1:283, no. 2738. This king is known also as Psamtek-mrj-Pt� (Ranke 1935–77, 1:136, nos. 16, 17). For similar formulas see Ranke (1935–37, 1:211:4; 2:372). The ideographic hieroglyph of the mouth, phonetic r, is considered a weak consonant and is susceptible to omission. Egyptians either replaced it with the �owering reed i or in the case of the word mry coalesced it with the next sign, which is y. Hence: mry>my. 7. A discussion of the title in Egyptian sources is found in Gardiner (1968, I:50– 51).

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that God would punish “Amun of Thebes” (Jer 46:25). Nahum referred to Thebes as ���� �� (Nah 3:8), adapting the Egyptian expression niwt �Imn, “the city of Amun.”8 Perhaps it was culturally acceptable for Judeans to absorb the Egyptian god’s name because as a “hidden one” whose genesis was unknown, Amun resembled the Hebrews’ view of God (BDB, 51 col. 1). Isaiah singles out that particular trait of God in a prophecy describing the transfer of material wealth from the Egyptians and Nubians to Israel. He says: ����� ����� ���� ����� �� ��� ��� You are indeed a God who conceals Himself, O God of Israel, the Savior. (Isa 45:15)9

Yet what about the pre�x mry? Did the Egyptian word enter the Hebrew vocabulary? A perusal of biblical onomastics indicates the existence of ������� (2 Chr 9:40), the name of King Saul’s grandson. In fact, it is a compound name consisting of the pre�x mry and the suf�x Baal, the name of the noted Canaanite god. Scholars who have commented extensively on the signi�cance of the name Baal have been hard pressed to expound on the pre�x ���. Moreover, they have struggled to explain why the Chronicler recorded the grandson’s name in two different ways: ������� and ��� ����.10 None of them saw the similarity that existed between biblical ������� or ��� ���� and the Egyptian counterpart:

This hieroglyph (see Ranke 1935–77, 1:421, no. 15), which is transliterated as mry-bb� r-(� st),11 can be translated “the beloved one of the 8. Thebes is also known in Egyptian as simply niwt, “the City.” Note too, that while Malamat thought the name of the Judean King Amon came from the Hebrew (see n. 3 above), others have suggested that Amon derives from Egyptian, referring to the Theban deity (Kil 1989, 771 n. 27). 9. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are my own. 10. 1 Chr 8:34; 9:40. See the comments of Knoppers (2003–2004, 478–79, 516, 521) and McCarter (1984, 124–25, 258–59, 262). Noth (1980, 900) hesitantly connects the pre�x with Egyptian vocabulary. The only one, to my knowledge, who clearly mentions a similarity between the biblical name and Egyptian onomastics is Muchiki (1999, 216). However, he did not accurately discern the correspondence between the two spellings of the Hebrew forms and the Egyptian model. 11. It also occurs in the list of divine names provided by Hoch (1994, 572). The Hebrew scribe who copied the borrowed name might have (1) understood that Egyptian r is interchangeable with Semitic l (Gardiner 1957, §19, Remarks on

1

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(god) Baal [and of Isis].”12 What emerges, then, is that both components, mry and Amun, are part of biblical vocabulary, albeit as separate items, prior to the appearance of the compound form my�mn. Indeed, in the early periods, the biblical public was familiar with the word mry when it joined the deity, Baal. But, as the use of the name Baal lost favor among the Judeans after the change of dynasties from Saul to David,13 so too the Egyptian pre�x mry fell into disuse.14

Egyptian Alphabet and Sign List N35) and (2) been familiar with the conventions of Egyptian orthography related to biliteral and triliteral signs (Gardiner 1957, §31, §41, §42). Pursuant to the �rst point, one should note that in the Bible, the Egyptian place name trwn (Simons 1937, 180, 185, List XXXIV Shoshenq I, line 102) is transcribed as a PN, ����� (kethib) ����� (qere) in 1 Chr 4:20. Accordingly, the �nal r in Egyptian PN (mry)-br parallels the �nal l in the name of the Semitic god Baal. Further, Gardiner explains that when there is defective spelling in Egyptian, such as in the case of the missing �ayin in the name br, it is probably due to calligraphic reasons and to the fact that an Egyptian scribe is not obliged to write all phonetic signs before an ideogram (1957, §59). That is indeed so. See the additional examples of writing the name of the god as br instead of b�r in Ranke (1935–77, 2:403; “Additions to I,” 421, no. 15). Finally, an Egyptian scribe could write the �rst syllable in the name of the god Baal as bb � (with b followed by the b � ) even though it is read as one b (Gardiner 1957, Sign List G29). Thus, precision in transliterating obligated the Hebrew scribe to record the consonantal letter � twice. Hence, the pre�x ��� terminates with � as ���� and the suf�x part begins with � in the word ���. Aware of the distinctive ways of writing the compound name in Egyptian, the Hebrew scribe transcribed the entire name, sign by sign, into Hebrew as ��� ����. The scribe had no way to inform an unfamiliar reader of the difference that might exist in Egyptian between writing and pronunciation, or, as in our case, Egyptian scribes might spell the sound b in more than one way. Accordingly, the scribe noted, for the uninitiated, both forms, ��� ���� and �������. In addition, our specimen of Canaanite b�l is written bb� r. It is a mistake to assume that bb� r is parallel to Hebrew b�l in the sense that Egyptian � (aleph), is the same as the Hebrew � (�ayin). It is not. Egyptian bb� is pronounced b. Unaware of the ancient Egyptian linguistic traditions, the Masoretes of the tenth century C.E. preserved both forms in Chronicles without adding their familiar distinctive signs of qere and kethib. The LXX, however, translated in Ptolemaic Egypt, wrote the name as it should be pronounced, ��������. 12. In fact, Egyptian mry �Imn and biblical ������� are similar in formulation. Both begin with the same pre�x, and the suf�x contains a deity name, although different in ethnicity. 13. Note a similar substitution of ��� for �� in the name of one of King David’s sons (1 Chr 14:7; 2 Sam 5:16). 14. As the house of Saul grew weaker (2 Sam 3:1) old loyalties dissolved, and even epithets of deities changed.

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The Concept of “Beloved of God” The principle of being beloved by one’s deity is not unique to Egypt. It transcends borders and is attested in Northwest Semitic literature. The epithet ydd il, “beloved of El,” re�ects the strong emotional sentiment of El, the head of the Ugaritic pantheon, for Mot.15 The same is true in the case of the biblical title ������, “the beloved one of Yah (GOD),” an epithet solemnly bestowed on the newborn Solomon by the prophet Nathan to emphasize the special affection of GOD for the son of King David (2 Sam 12:25).16 Since this is the only time the name appears, it is dif�cult to determine whether it served as a descriptive title or was another personal name for the heir to the throne of Judah and Israel.17 My�mn in the Vocabulary of Hebrew Seals While ������ ceased to be used,18 the concept it conveyed resurfaces on Hebrew seals as my�mn. How did that happen? An Egyptian import linguistically, it followed the archetype my �Imn (“the one who is beloved of Amun”). The pre�x corresponds to the biblical mry except for the missing letter r,19 which was dropped or coalesced with the next radical.20 Indeed, Middle Babylonian scribes were accustomed to spell the phrase without the r, as mai-amana. Later on, the Greeks copied it without the r (WB 2.101, no. 1). It is no surprise, therefore, that Hebrew scribes and then seal-cutters maintained the same practice customary all over the Near East: the writing of the pre�x my and not mry in the compound 15. Gordon 1998, §19.1074. Note also the Phoenician terracotta krater from circa the sixth century engraved lb�lydd in Deutsch, Heltzer, and Barkay (1999, 21–22). 16. See Noth (1980, no. 577); Fowler (1988, 59, 61, 74, 338, 350, 360); DobbsAllsopp et al. (2005, 608). There is yet another instance of a cognate word. Moses referred to Benjamin as the, ���� of GOD, “beloved one of GOD” (Deut 33:12). The rabbis considered the word as a PN and explained it as “beloved” (b. Mena� 53b). 17. In Ps 60:7, ������, “your beloved,” is probably addressing the king. The plural form of the noun should be understood as a plural of “majesty” (Dahood 1968, 79). 18. The word ���� ceased designating a person as “beloved one of GOD.” Instead, the word ���, dod, as a designation for “the beloved” becomes more prevalent. See Isa 5:1–7 and numerous examples in Song of Songs. See also Kil’s comments to 1 Chr 2:15 (1986). 19. Muchiki 1999, no. 173, 213–14. Hieroglyphic spelling of the word, as explained above in n. 6, often excludes the sign for r. 20. Note that “beloved of the god Pt�” spelled with the ideogram r in Ranke (1935–77, 1:159, no. 25) is also spelled without the ideogram r in Ranke (1935–77, 1:160, no. 11). 1

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name.21 Renewed Egyptian suzerainty, primarily in the latter era of the Judean monarchy, left its imprints on Hebrew vocabulary, though in the ancillary sources. The form my�mn, a re�ex of Egyptian mry �Imn, “beloved of Amun,” appears in the glyptic record.22 What is of exceptional interest is that ancient Hebrew onomastics include the concept of “beloved” in female names as well. The queen mother of Josiah is called Yedidah, “beloved” (fem.). Moreover, a fragmentary bulla in the Kaufman collection attests to the same concept, although uses a different word. The inscription reads: ln�hb[t] bt hmlk[k] Belonging to N�hbt, daughter of the king.23

Translating n�hbt as “Beloved,” that is, as a personal name, seems to be a widespread choice. A variety of terms connote the concept of “beloved” in the list of PNs, but some of the words are imported from Israel’s neighboring countries, and Hebrew onomastics expressed the idea for 21. See Hermann Ranke’s long explanation in his article “Keilschriftliches” (1937, 93, xi, xii), and note the comment of Grif�th (1909, 42 n.1). 22. Of special interest is a Hebrew seal containing the pre�x mry in the name mrymwt, ������. At one time it was in the Altman collection, but currently its location is unknown. The same name, mrymt, although written in scriptio defectiva, is recorded on ostracon 50 from the Arad Temple (Aharoni and Naveh 1975, 87). The name is also listed among priestly families in the later biblical books (Ezra 8:33; 10:36; Neh 3:4, 21). For current explanations of the name, see Röllig (1995, 294). Cf. Dobbs-Allsopp et al. (2005, 608; WSS, 513). The interpretations seem farfetched to me because of the following: In Ugarit, môt, the second element in the name ������, is connected to death (Gordon 1998, §19.1443). Accordingly, it is dif�cult to assume that parents, particularly those of a priestly line whose main function is to promote peace and life (Num 6:22–27), would include in the name of an offspring a reference to the deity Mot. In Ugarit, Mot is known as Lord of Killing (Gordon 1998, §2059:16, 22), and according to Jeremiah, Mot actually kills progeny (Jer 9:20). Egyptian onomastics offer a far more suitable model. The pre�x mr or mry means “beloved of” as explained above. The suf�x mwt, Mut, is the Egyptian “mother goddess” and mrymwt is “the beloved of the (goddess) mother” (Ranke 1935–77, 1:159, �g. 26). For the central role of the goddess mother and her universal characteristics, see Wiedemann (1897, 122–23); Morenz (1992, 258, 264); Hornung (1982, 185 n. 151). Further, the Egyptian goddess mwt, Mut, is the consort of the god Amun, “the concealed one.” There are those who are the beloved of the (divine) father Amun and those who are beloved of the (divine) mother, Mut. Thus, the name mrymwt is not a blend of Egyptian and Northwest Semitic. Rather, it is an entirely Egyptian loan. I have treated this subject extensively in a paper given at the 2013 Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature in Baltimore. 23. Deutsch 2003–11, 2:91.

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both genders.24 Adoration of individuals by God seems to be a pervasive theme in ancient Hebrew onomastics. My�mn: The Iconic Seal My�mn is inscribed on an unpublished dome-shaped red carnelian scaraboid seal, from approximately the eighth–seventh centuries B.C.E. (length: 18.0 mm; width: 14.7 mm; height: 7.3 mm). A fragment is missing from the middle of the surface. The upper register reads: my[�]mn. A scorpion is engraved on the lower register (�����).25 In choosing a quality stamp seal, the patron chose carnelian, a semi-precious red stone. It gave the seal the character of a jewel that represented class and might, in addition to beauty. While our analysis has furnished an explanation of the inscription and thus placed it among ancillary biblical vocabulary, the seal itself is unusual because it excluded any family information or ancestral pedigree and it lacked the lamedh possessive. Instead, the sealcutter engraved an icon in the lower register.

Figure 1. Red carnelian scaraboid seal. Ca. eighth–seventh century B.C.E. The Shlomo Moussaieff collection. Photo courtesy of Robert Deutsch and André Lemaire.

From a full repertoire of icons that could have been chosen, the sealcutter designed the likeness of a scorpion: a front pair of nipping claws, a long slender joined tail ending in a curved poisonous sting, and three legs on each side of the invertebrate. 24. Though the name is absent from the Bible, there is a seal from the biblical period with the inscription n�hbt bt dmlyhw, “Beloved daughter of Dmalyahu” (Deutsch 2003–11, 2:294). The name is also included in Elephantine lists, in full and defective spelling (Kornfeld 1978, 60, 62). Scholars have assumed that N�hbt is a female personal name, though I wonder if it might connote an adoring pet name? 25. For a discussion of scorpion iconography and its impact on the different communities bordering Egypt, see Stoof 2002. 1

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The scorpion found on this seal is comparable to those found on Egyptian seals.26 A scorpion emblem often represented the honored Egyptian goddess Selkis (Serqet) from the �rst Egyptian dynasty until the end of the 30th Dynasty. Our engraved specimen resembles a blueglazed steatite scarab in gold mount from the 18th Dynasty (Hall 1913, xiv-xv, �g. 7), though the carnelian scarab depicted the nipping part of the claws somewhat differently. Though this deity had a dark side, it was also viewed as a benevolent goddess. In a sense, the scorpion performed two opposite functions.27 As the tongue holds the power of life and death, so too the goddess Selkis (Serqet), in her aspect as scorpion, can spew forth venom as punishment to transgressors and also be a superior protective or healing force.28 The artistic and cultural inspiration for the stamp seal and its iconic emblem did not end with Egypt and the goddess Selkis (Serqet); the inhabitants of the Eastern Mediterranean region were open also to Mesopotamian aesthetic and cultural in�uences as the major geopolitical powers alternately dominated the area. Accordingly, the artistic imprints and literary metaphors became intertwined and interwoven. Indeed, the multitude of artifacts unearthed in the region indicates a wealth of material supporting a close acquaintance with the cultural role of the northeastern scorpion (Staubli 2009). And so, the northeastern scorpion, representing Ishkhara, also permeates the Judean consciousness in matters of enforcing the law of the monarchy.29 Known to exercise 26. Note a similar glyph and commentary in Teeter and Wilfong (2003, 89, �g. 136). See also Hornung and Staehelin (1976, 771–72, no. 5, 805) and their extensive discussion of the role of the scorpion (esp. 131–33). 27. Serpents played a similar role to the Egyptian scorpion. In Num 21:5–9, these reptiles poisoned their prey, but Moses’s copper image of the serpent healed those bitten. This re�ects the belief that the one who issues the harmful venom is capable of providing the healing antidote. 28. Scorpions and stinging invertebrates were classi�ed together as foes of human beings and the divine order. And yet, the healing pro�ciency of the goddess was sought by physicians, and spells that included her name were skillfully devised by expert magicians to ward off the poison of the scorpions (Borghouts 1978, esp. 5, 84, 91, 112, 137, 143; Andrews 1994, 10). The scorpion also plays an important role in Egyptian religious life, namely, providing protection on the way to everlasting resurrection. A painting on the tomb of Queen Nefertari-mi-en-Mut, the favorite wife of King Ramesses II (19th Dynasty, 1279–1213 B.C.E.), shows the goddess Selkis standing with a scorpion on her head, sheltering the queen on her passage to the hereafter (Lange and Hirmer 1968, 502–3, pls. LV and LVI). 29. See 1 Kgs 12:14; 2 Chr 10:11, 14. Compare the following: In the center of a dark boundary stone documenting a land transaction between King Adad-aplaiddina, one of the kings of the Second Isin Dynasty (about 1069 B.C.E.), and his

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apotropaic power to ward off pernicious wickedness, the Mesopotamian goddess also represented love and played an essential role in legal issues (Zernecke 2008). Thus, the carving of a scorpion image on an inscribed my�mn seal is evidence of an existing tradition beholden to a variety of in�uences in a regional crossroads. A skillful artisan in Judah, like his colleagues in Phoenicia and Syria, might have absorbed creative ideas from the two main art producers and then fashioned an amalgam. The seal is unusual since the customary lamedh possessive and the pedigree are missing. Was the usage of the seal, therefore, different? Perhaps it indicates a title of a person dealing with funds. The narrator of 1 Kings records that from the time of the early monarchy of Israel, the �rst temple in Jerusalem was the storehouse of the Israelite treasury, where the sacred donations of silver, gold, and vessels were deposited for safe-keeping (1 Kgs 7:51). The Chronicler cites names of some heads of the treasury who are all Levites and relatives of Moses.30 One in particular is Ahijah,31 a Levite who was in charge of the treasuries (1 Chr 26:20). ���� literally means “brother of GOD,” but the �gurative sense is “beloved of GOD.”32 Later rabbinic sources suggest exorcist priest, the Babylonian engraver depicted Ishkhara in the image of a scorpion. The goddess was meant to ensure compliance with the law, speci�cally oaths, and to stop anyone from violating contract terms (Lambert 2012, 137–46 [see esp. the engraving on p. 139]). The icon of the scorpion is similar to our seal with the exception of the number of legs on each side. In this boundary stone, the scorpion had four legs on each side. 30. Note that the accounting records of the tabernacle were drawn up at Moses’s bidding as God had commanded him (Exod 38:21–31). Cf. b. Bek. 5a. Citing Moses as the chief ancestor of the Levite clan in charge of the treasury requires elucidation. The Chronicler relates that later chief of�cers of the treasury of the temple openly claimed descent from that famous personality associated with their skilled profession. In doing so, they followed a Middle Babylonian custom (Lambert 2012, 145–46). Cf. the commentary of Kil (1986) on 1 Chr 26:23–25 (Hebrew). 31. A combination similar to Ahijah is the name Ahira, chief of the tribe of Naphtali. The lexicon translates the name literally, according to Modern Hebrew, “my brother is evil” (BDB, 27). Yet it is inconceivable that parents would give a name to their newborn with such a negative meaning. Rather, Ahira, the personal name, expresses adoration: “beloved of Re,” beloved of the Egyptian god, Re. In the same way that Baal was used in names when the Israelites were under Canaanite in�uence, Re was integrated into names when the Israelites were exposed to Egyptian culture. The idea conveyed was that the offspring would be beloved by an omnipotent power and thus would be protected during his life. 32. See the comments of Kil (1986) on that name in 1 Chr 2:26; 8:7; 11:36 (Hebrew). The appellation �� is found often in the Song of Songs. There, however, it is used in the sense of “beloved.” See, for example, Song 8:1. The feminine form 1

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that while the �rst head of the treasury was indeed an individual whose personal name was Ahijah, successive head treasurers were given this name as a title when they assumed this �scal responsibility. 33 My�mn, “beloved of the concealed god,” in the late Judean monarchy, is a veiled reincarnation of Ahijah, the beloved of GOD, during the dawn of the Judean kingdom. The similarity suggests that my�mn, like Ahijah, its predecessor, may also serve in two capacities, as a personal name and as a title connected to the treasury. My�mn: Title of a Treasury Administrator A clue that might connect my�mn to the treasurer’s title can be detected in a bulla carrying the following inscription: [m�s]yhw my�mn (�����).

Figure 2. Bulla with inscription: [m�s]yhw my�mn. Avigad 1986, no. 87; Avigad 1997, 237, no. 647. Image used with permission of the Israel Exploration Society.

���� also refers to the beloved (Song 4:9, 10, 12; 5:1). Egyptian poets used Egyptian

sn, “brother,” and snt, “sister,” in love poetry as terms of endearment (WB IV, 150, �g. 12, 151, �g. 10; Lichtheim 1975, 181–93). No wonder, therefore, that later homiletic interpretations of Song of Songs in Jewish and Christian traditions alike understood the close relations between the “brother” and the “sister” as love between God and his community (Pope 1977, 93–131). 33. On 1 Chr 26:20, see Kil (1986, esp. nn. 35–36 of the commentary). See m. Šeqal. 5.1 for a list of the names of functionaries with speci�c jobs in the temple. Nevertheless, there is a view that the functionaries did not use their personal names as long as they held speci�c jobs in the temple. Rather, they were known to the public by the names of those who had �rst been assigned to those positions. Accordingly, their names were, in fact, titles, referring to their speci�c functions.

40

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Nahman Avigad reads the inscription according to the usual formula: “[Belonging to Ma�a]seyahu [son of] My�amen,” adding that “the bulla is broken on the right. The linear frame encloses a two-line inscription divided by a double line” (1986, no. 87). There are, however, two horizontal pellets above the upper line of the script whose purpose Avigad does not explain. I assume that the broken part on the right side had a missing third pellet. Three pellets in a row pictorially represent metal or gold for the Egyptians (Gardiner 1957, Sign list N33). Indeed, three pellets determine the speci�c type of building in the word pr-nb(w), literally, “the house of precious material (gold),” in other words: the treasury (WB 1.517, no. 7). Accordingly, it is likely that the appearance of the pellets on top of the bulla connect the inscription with the Judean treasury. Hence, this unusual bulla would provide us with three registers and the following information (read from top to bottom): . . [. ]34 [m�]syhw my�mn

treasury (lit.: [house of] precious material) Ma�aseyahu The beloved one of [the concealed god] Amun

There is no reason to infer “son of” between lines two and three, when the third line expresses adoration by the divine power. However, there is reason to connect “treasury” with the word my�mn, which describes the adoration of Amun. Evidently the layout of this bulla is distinct and exceptional in that it has three lines in hybrid format, rather than the common two-line formulaic inscription.35 In the same vein, the lack of a formulaic inscription on the iconic seal that associates my�mn with a scorpion is signi�cant. And while a measure of anonymity might be a positive quality for a public assessor of any sort, the scorpion symbol assures the compliance of the masses with the monetary needs of the monarchy.36 This would not be the only time the noteworthy image of a scorpion is employed by a Judean ruler. Rehoboam, who refuses leniency to the public, uses the scorpion as a literary metaphor to emphasize harshness in 1 Kgs 12:14. ������� ���� ���� ���� ������ ���� ��� ��� My father chastised you with whips; and I will chastise you with scorpions. 34. These three periods indicate the pellets in Egyptian hieroglyphic script. 35. For similar types, see Shiloh (1986, 32). 36. Seal cutters and their patrons (either of�cial or individual) sometimes prefer to put remarkable professions into pictographs. On this phenomenon, see the discussion in Lubetski (2007, 31–34). 1

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At the twilight of the Judean monarchy, King Jehoiakim needed the services of loyal and forceful tax collectors to pay the heavy indemnity imposed on the country by Pharaoh Neco. The king did not touch the temple treasury, but rather he assessed the people. For the unpopular task of collecting taxes, he needed strict personnel.37 We are not told who those individuals were, but it is conceivable that the iconic inscribed seal harbors the answer. A head administrator who bears the title my�mn with the scorpion icon combines �rst-rate allegiance with forcefulness, enabling him to execute the assignment faithfully and vigorously. Governor of the City Was my�mn with the scorpion the only example of a seal pertaining to the governmental functions of the Judean monarchy? The answer is no. The existence of a group of named of�cials who carried the title �r h�r, “governor of the city,”38 lends credence to the probability that my�mn, like its Egyptian predecessor, was also a title and not only a personal name. Avigad (1986, no. 10, 33–34), Barkay (1977/78), and later Deutsch (2003–11, 1:39–41, 65–71 [esp. 70]) have discussed bullae that contain the title �r h�r placed in a small royal ring (i.e., a cartouche) without a personal name.39 The few bullae show, on the left side, the �gure of a ruler carrying a sword and holding a bow and arrows in his left hand. On the right side, an of�cial faces him standing in a gesture of submission while his right hand is raised and open towards the opposite �gure. The three scholars note that the pictographs assimilate general Egyptian and Assyrian aesthetic motifs of the period. They add that the bullae depict an investiture. The scene may well have been intended to illustrate the delegation of authority to an of�cial and underscore his loyalty to the crown. I believe that the pseudo-Egyptian cartouche presents the designated of�cial as a governor of the walled city.40 Raising the right hand indicates 37. The verb ��� (cf. Akkadian nagâšu) is used to describe the tax collection from Judah by the Egyptian king in 2 Kgs 23:35. Remarkably, it is the same term used to depict those who oppressed the Hebrews in Egypt (Exod 3:7; 5:6; 10:13, 14). Note the use of the same word in Isa 60:17 to portray a future righteous system of tax collection. Also note the commentary of Da�at Mikra on that verse (Hakham 1984). 38. Judg 9:30; 1 Kgs 22:26; 2 Kgs 23:8; 2 Chr 18:25; 34:8. 39. In the 1990s both Avigad (1994) and Barkay (1994) published slightly revised discussions of the “governor of the city” bullae. 40. For the Egyptians, the royal rings, i.e., the cartouche, meant “encircled by the sun,” hence representing Pharaoh as the ruler of all that the sun encircles (Gardiner

42

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the moment of taking an oath.41 The bow and arrows signify the vivid existence of a divine presence at the moment of investiture.42 Deutsch (2003–11, 1:65–68) adds that other bullae inscribed with the title “governor of the city” include a personal name. Since he did not explain the reasons for engraving two kinds of seals, the nameless and the named, I would like to make the following suggestion: The fact that a group of bullae resemble one seal impression is evidence that indeed there existed a design symbolizing public of�ce.43 Of course, the personal name is left out because the seal changed hands when governors or of�cials were replaced. As long as the functionary ful�lled the of�cial task, the anonymous seal was in his possession and served as evidence of his legal position. For his own use, the nameless of�cial engraved an aniconic personal seal to identify himself. The same pattern might be discerned with the my�mn specimen.44 Borrowed from the Egyptians, who used it often for titled temple of�cials of the highest rank, the Hebrew my�mn adds imagery distinctive to the of�cial’s function. The seal exhibits a delegation of control to an individual vested with the obligation to carry out monetary functions in the late Judean monarchy. Presumably, the icon expressed the message of the seal better than any inscribed text. So far, the number of seals indicating an administrator of the Judean kingdom has been meager. And yet, it may be that this iconic inscribed seal plus the three-line bulla signi�cantly enrich our awareness of an existing �scal bureau of the monarchy. The scorpion plays a pivotal role in Judean imagery. Used metaphorically by King Rehoboam in his de�ant and vicious threat to the people, 1957, 74). I assume that the artisan borrowed the motif of “encircling” to include all that was contained within the walls of the city. 41. Gen 14:22; Ps 137:5. In Dan 12:7, the oath taker raises both hands. Indeed, the manner of engraving the forearm re�ects an Egyptianizing in�uence known from Phoenician art (Avigad 1994, 139). 42. Cf. Gen 9:12–13. The bow of God serves as a sign of the covenant between God and the earth. The arrows serve as a reminder of the unfortunate results of a broken promise. See Dahood’s comments on Ps 38:3 (1968, 235). Barkay (1994, 143 esp. n. 3) notes the biblical roots of the scene. 43. Even seals with the same content contain different details. I detected at least four differences (coiffure, beard, attire, arrows) between the Kaufman (Deutsch 2003, 1:42a-b) and the Avigad (1986, �g. 10) specimens. 44. Peter van der Veen (2012, 28) offers a similar view. He suggests that Gedaliah, minister over the royal house, might have engraved at least two different seals: one for bureaucratic matters, the other predominantly for close colleagues and family correspondence. 1

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it sparked the defection of the ten tribes from the dynasty of David (1 Kgs 12:11–14; 2 Chr 10:11–14). Ironically, the appearance of a scorpion on the seal stings as it is a harbinger of the approaching collapse and the complete breakdown of the Judean monarchy. Conclusion The study presents an alternative way of viewing a group of similar seals. My�mn suggests an Egyptian loan into Hebrew onomastics. Lacking the regular formula, the iconic inscribed seal might be perceived as a PN representing the adoration of Amun, but it also might connote a title. As fresh information constantly supplants inconclusive explanations, we must be ready to re-examine old assumptions. Rashi acknowledged long ago the distinctive value of reviewing previous opinions. Unequivocally, he stated to his grandson, Rashbam, that if only he had the time he would have revised his commentary of the Pentateuch to re�ect new meanings and ideas that keep coming to light (Rashbam, Gen 37:2). Keeping an open mind to myriad possibilities is a challenge to meet and a goal to achieve while we marvel at the ingenuity of people of yore. Bibliography Aharoni, Y., and J. Naveh. 1975. Ketovot �Arad. JDS. Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik. Andrews, C. 1994. Amulets of Ancient Egypt. London: Published for the Trustees of the British Museum by British Museum Press. Avigad, N. 1986. Hebrew Bullae from the Time of Jeremiah: Remnants of a Burnt Archive. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. ———. 1994. The “Governor of the City” Bulla. Pages 138–40 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed. Edited by H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. ———. 1997. Corpus of West Semitic Stamp Seals. Revised and completed by Benjamin Sass. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Barkay, G. 1994. A Second “Governor of the City” Bulla. Pages 141–44 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed. Edited by H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. ———. 1977/78. A Second Bulla of the “Governor of the City.” Qad 10:69–71. Borghouts, J. F. 1978. Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts. Nis 9. Leiden: Brill. Brown, F., S. R. Driver, C. A. Briggs, E. Robinson, and W. Gesenius. 1952. A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament, with an Appendix Containing the Biblical Aramaic. Oxford: Clarendon. Brunner, H. 1979. An Outline of Middle Egyptian Grammar. Graz: Akademische Druckund Verlagsanstalt. Currid, J. D. 1997. Ancient Egypt and the Old Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker Books. Dahood, M. J. 1968. Psalms II, 51–100. AB 17. Garden City: Doubleday.

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Deutsch, R. 2003–11. Biblical Period Hebrew Bullae: The Josef Chaim Kaufman Collection. 2 vols. Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center Publications. Deutsch, R., and M. Heltzer. 1995. New Epigraphic Evidence from the Biblical Period. Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center Publications. Deutsch, R., M. Heltzer, and G. Barkay. 1999. West Semitic Epigraphic News of the 1st Millennium BCE. Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center Publications. Dobbs-Allsopp, F. W. et al., eds. 2005. Hebrew Inscriptions: Texts from the Biblical Period of the Monarchy with Concordance. New Haven: Yale University Press. Erman, A., and H. Grapow. 1926–53. Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache: Im Auftrage der deutschen Akademien. 7 vols. Berlin: Akademie Verlag (WB). Fowler, J. D. 1988. Theophoric Personal Names in Ancient Hebrew: A Comparative Study. JSOTSup 49. Shef�eld: JSOT. Gardiner, A. H. 1957. Late Egyptian miscellanies. Brussels: Édition de la Fondation Égyptologique Reine Élisabeth. ———. Egyptian Grammar: Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs. 3d rev. ed. London: The Grif�th Institute, Ashmolean Museum; Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. 1968. Ancient Egyptian Onomastica. London: Oxford University Press. Gordon, C. H. 1975. He Is Who He Is. Ber 23:27–28. ———. 1998. Ugaritic Textbook: Grammar, Texts in Transliteration, Cuneiform Selections, Glossary, Indices. AnOr 38. Rev. ed. Repr. Rome: Ponti�cal Biblical Institute. Grif�th, F. Ll. 1909. The Length of the Reign of Amenhotep II. PSBA 31:42–43. Hakham, A. 1984. Sefer Yesha�yahu. Da�at Mikra. Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook. Hall, H. R. 1913. Catalogue of Egyptian Scarabs, etc., in the British Museum. London: British Museum, Department of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities. Hestrin, R., and M. Dayagi-Mendeles. 1979. Inscribed Seals: First Temple Period, Hebrew, Ammonite, Moabite, Phoenician and Aramaic, from the Collections of the Israel Museum and the Israel Department of Antiquities and Museums. Jerusalem: Israel Museum. Hoch, J. E. 1994. Semitic Words in Egyptian Texts of the New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Hoffmeier, J. K. 1997. Israel in Egypt: The Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition. New York: Oxford University Press. Hornung, E. 1982. Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many. Translated by J. Baines. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Hornung, E., and E. Staehelin. 1976. Skarabäen und andere Siegelamulette aus Basler Sammlungen. AeDS 1. Mainz: P. von Zabern. Kil, Y. 1986. Sefer Divre Ha-Yamim. Da�at Mikra. Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook. ———. 1989. Sefer Melakhim. Da�at Mikra. Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook. Kitchen, K. A. 1978. The Bible in Its World: The Bible and Archaeology Today. Downers Grove: InterVarsity. Knoppers, G. N. 2003–2004. I Chronicles: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. 2 vols. AB 12–12A. New York: Doubleday. Kornfeld, W. 1978. Onomastica Aramaica aus Ägypten. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Lambert, W. G. 2012. A Babylonian Boundary Stone in the Moussaieff Collection. Pages 137–46 in Lubetski 2012. 1

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Lange, K., and M. Hirmer. 1968. Egypt: Architecture, Sculpture, Painting in Three Thousand Years. Translated by R. H. Boothroyd. 4th rev. and enl. ed. London: Phaidon. Lesko, L. H., and B. Switalski Lesko. 2002–2004. A Dictionary of Late Egyptian. 2 vols. 2d ed. Providence: B. C. Scribe. Lichtheim, M. C. 1975. The New Kingdom. Vol. 2 of Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lubetski, M. 2007. New Seals and Inscriptions, Hebrew, Idumean, and Cuneiform. HBM 8. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Phoenix. Lubetski, M., and E. Lubetski. 2012. New Inscriptions and Seals Relating to the Biblical World. SBLABS 19. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Malamat, M. 1950. Amon. Pages 422–23 in Encyclopedia Mikra�it, vol. 1. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute. McCarter, P. K. 1984. II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes, and Commentary. AB 9. Garden City: Doubleday. Morenz, S. 1992. Egyptian Religion. Translated by A. E. Keep. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Muchiki, Y. 1999. Egyptian Proper Names and Loanwords in North-West Semitic. SBLDS 153. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Noth, M. 1980. Die israelitischen Personennamen im Rahmen der gemeinsemitischen Namengebung. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1928. Repr., Hildesheim: G. Olms. Pope, M. H. 1977. Song of Songs. AB 7C. Garden City: Doubleday. Ranke, H. 1935–77. Die ägyptischen Personennamen. 3 vols. Glückstadt: J. J. Augustin. ———. 1937. Keilschriftliches. ZÄS 73:90–93. Röllig W. 1995. Althebräische Schriftsiegel und Gewichte. Pages 81–456 in vol. 2/2 of Handbuch der althebräischen Epigraphik. Edited by J. Renz and W. Röllig. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Shiloh, Y. 1986. A Group of Hebrew Bullae from the City of David. IEJ 36:16–38. Simons, J. J. 1937. Handbook for the Study of Egyptian Topographical Lists Relating to Western Asia. Leiden: Brill. Staubli, T. 2009. Bull Leaping and Other Images and Rites of the Southern Levant in the Sign of Scorpius. UF 41:611–30. Stoof, M. 2002. Skorpion und Skorpiongöttin im alten Ägypten. SAnt 23. Hamburg: Dr. Kova�. Teeter, E., and T. G. Wilfong. 2003. Scarabs, Scaraboids, Seals, and Seal Impressions from Medinet Habu. OIP 118. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Van der Veen, P. 2012. Gedaliah’s Seal Material Revisited: Some Preliminary Notes on New Evidence from the City of David. Pages 21–33 in Lubetski 2012. Wiedemann, A. 1897. Religion of the Ancient Egyptians. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Zernecke, A. E. 2008. Warum sitzt der Skorpion unter dem Bett? ZDPV 124:107–27.

THE ICONOGRAPHY OF IDEAL FEMININE BEAUTY REPRESENTED IN THE HEBREW BIBLE AND IRON AGE LEVANTINE IVORY SCULPTURE Amy Rebecca Gansell

From fairy tales to fashion magazines, notions of feminine beauty pervade the modern world, offering positive, negative, and contested models that re�ect and reinforce popular ideals and living realities. Likewise, diverse experiences, values, and media would have contributed to ancient conceptions of feminine beauty. This essay investigates the essence of feminine beauty in the Levant through Hebrew Bible texts and Iron Age ivory carving. Drawing upon these complementary literary and visual corpora, I aim to build upon Othmar Keel’s fundamental efforts to “compare systematically the conceptual world” of the Hebrew Bible with that of ancient Near Eastern art (Keel 1997 [1978], 11; 1994). Ivory sculptures of women, dating to the ninth and eighth centuries B.C.E., offer one of the largest and most detailed corpora of imagery for the study of ideals of feminine beauty in the Iron Age Levant. The ivory was imported as tusks from Africa to the Levant, where it was cut, carved, polished, and embellished.1 The resulting sculptures served as surface appliqués and decorative elements of objects such as furniture, boxes, fans, mirrors, and horse trappings. Unfortunately, no ivory workshops have been archaeologically identi�ed; however, the imagery and style of the ivory sculptures are recognizably Levantine.2 Aramaic and Hebrew inscriptions on the ivories verify their Levantine production, which Mesopotamian historical sources corroborate (Millard 1962, 2005; Thomason 1999, 393–401; Winter 1973, 376–78). The Hebrew Bible, too, emphasizes the luxury of ivory goods and associates them with 1. Note the biblical claims that Solomon’s ships acquired ivory, gold, silver, apes, and peacocks (1 Kgs 10:22) and that the coastal city of Tyre imported ivory tusks and ebony (Ezek 27:15). 2. Based on visual and textual evidence, art historians avidly hypothesize their production contexts (Herrmann 1986, 1992, 2000, 2005; Mazzoni 2009; Wicke 2005; Winter 1981, 1992, 1998).

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royalty. Amos cites beds and couches of ivory (Amos 3:15; 6:4). Likewise, 1 Kings refers to Ahab’s house of ivory (1 Kgs 22:39) and Solomon’s chryselephantine throne (1 Kgs 10:18). Traditionally, scholars have dismissed portable objects and their components (such as ivory sculptures) as “minor” art, but more recent discussions of ancient Near Eastern visual culture recuperate their major iconographic and aesthetic signi�cance (Feldman 2006; Keel and Uehlinger 1996; Suter 2011; Thomason 2010, 2013; Winter 1989, 2000). The repetition of imagery on ivory sculpture, for example, suggests that it played a meaningful role in an elite visual language. Moreover, the care with which each piece was crafted, the colorful inlays and gold foils with which the sculptures were enhanced, and, of course, the value and aesthetic qualities of the material of ivory, itself, would have attracted visual interest and appreciation (Gansell 2009, 157). Despite variables of style, date, and quality, Iron Age Levantine ivories exhibit a repertoire of positively coded, �ctive, fantastic, and divine imagery. In addition to a standardized assortment of female �gures, the sculptures portray select motifs from Egyptian mythology— scenes of men slaying enemies and grif�ns, and depictions of animals, sphinxes, vegetation, and geometric patterns. The images of women, carved both in relief and in the round, include the motif known as the “woman at the window” (showing a female face peering through a window frame), clothed and nude full-length �gures, and fragmentary heads and bodies (��������). Among full-length, clothed �gures, several of which are winged, some hold �owers and/or �ank trees (���� �). Women in long garments are also shown banqueting. Nude women sometimes occur in the “mistress of the animals” pose, holding lions upside down by their tails (�����). Other nude �gures hold �owers, but most simply stand erect, with their hands at their sides (�����).3 A considerable quantity of ivory pieces has been excavated from Samaria in Israel, but a larger number, which is more thoroughly published, was excavated from royal Neo-Assyrian contexts in Mesopotamia (Barnett 1975; Crowfoot and Crowfoot 1938; Herrmann 1986, 1992; Herrmann and Laidlaw 2009; Loud and Altman 1938, 96–97; Mallowan and Herrmann 1974; Orchard 1967; Suter 2011, 220; ThureauDangin et al. 1931; Uehlinger 2005). Reaching the Tigris-Euphrates region as booty and tribute, the imagery and aesthetics of these sculptures remained primarily indicative of Levantine culture (Herrmann and Millard 2003). In the Levant, where they were manufactured, ivory products would have been commissioned and consumed by elites as 3. Male �gures are not depicted nude.

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pleasing symbols of prestige. Claudia Suter has recently proposed that their imagery re�ected the ideology of royal households and powerful merchants (2011, 224). Like the ivory sculptures, the Hebrew Bible may be understood to re�ect values and ideas circulating in the Levant during the early �rst millennium B.C.E. While the primary aim of this essay is to elucidate ancient notions of feminine beauty, this project offers the corollary bene�ts of enriching and expanding our understanding of both the ivory �gures and biblical accounts of beauty. Analysis of Hebrew Bible texts, especially the Song of Songs, can help us to infer which characteristics were most meaningful to the ancient recognition and artistic representation of feminine beauty. Furthermore, through textual study, we might elicit the meaning and nuances of particular details and iconographic themes portrayed in ivory. At the same time, the ivory �gures offer visual models for literary references to “beautiful” women and thus can illuminate biblical texts. Beauty is not merely a matter of appearance. I therefore �rst investigate “inner beauty” by reviewing references to ideal female qualities that may be correlated with visual traits. The bulk of this essay, however, describes “outward beauty” and “beauti�cation” practices, such as hairstyle, dress, and adornment. Linking tropes represented in biblical texts and ivory sculpture, an iconography of feminine beauty emerges. Then, through an analysis of the woman-at-the-window motif, I offer some thoughts on the implications of the complex and dynamic aesthetic that ivory sculptures of women might have presented to their ancient observers. Beauty� “Beauty” is here de�ned as a perceptible phenomenon that evokes pleasure. Beauty portrayed in literature and visual art reminds its audience of this pleasure and has the potential to stir it directly. In the Hebrew Bible, female (and male) beauty is frequently referenced using words derived from the roots ���, ���, and ��� (Höver-Johag 1986; Kronholm 1998; Ringgren 1990). Modern translations of these terms (including “beautiful,” “fair,” and “lovely”) only imperfectly capture the connotations and ambiguities of their ancient usage.4 Nonetheless, we can temper our interpretations by considering the narrative contexts in 4. This issue is especially signi�cant when two or more descriptors, both of which may have been essential to a single meaning, were employed to express beauty (Lillas-Schuil 2006). 1

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which aspects of feminine beauty are discussed. In the Hebrew Bible, feminine beauty is usually an asset, and its mention in amorous and lustful contexts reveals its sexual dimension. Although beautiful women might be esteemed for their virtues, beauty is also presented as a vulnerable state (2 Sam 13:1–14) and a corrupting or dangerous agent (Ezek 16:15–22). While the iconography of feminine beauty investigated here is primarily that which is admirable and desirable, to best understand it, I evaluate both positive and negative examples of inner beauty, outward beauty, and practices of beauti�cation. Inner Beauty: Personal Qualities of Feminine Beauty Beyond kindheartedness, the Hebrew Bible presents positive female role models in terms of their pedigree (“Tell me whose daughter you are,”5 Gen 24:23) and ful�llment of spousal roles. A good wife is intelligent and industrious, supporting the household through spinning, weaving, and food provisioning (Prov 31:10–31). Female strength, especially with reference to the ability to perform domestic labor, is esteemed. As a betrothal candidate, for example, Rebekah proves not only her kindness but also her physical endurance by hauling water from the well to Abraham’s servant and all of his camels (Gen 24:20) (Sasson 2006, 251). Imagery of a mare (Song 1:9) and military architecture (Song 4:4; 7:4) describe the female beloved in the Song and might signify strength. Moral heartiness is also indicated: an ideal woman is not tempted by a handsome man (for a negative example, see Gen 39:7–8). The story of Rachel and Leah introduces the signi�cance of both virtuous personal qualities and physical attractiveness, implying their ideal concurrence in one woman (Gen 29).6 Rachel, the younger of the two sisters, is “beautiful in form and beautiful in appearance” (Gen 29:17).7 Leah’s image is not as highly praised.8 Jacob marries the two sisters and initially prefers Rachel on account of her external appearance. But Rachel’s lengthy barrenness embitters her, and Jacob comes to favor Leah, whose inner beauty is demonstrated by her devotion to him and her ability to bear many children. 5. Biblical citations and versi�cation in this paper are based on the NRSV. 6. Also see Prov 11:22: “Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman without good sense.” 7. This phraseology is also employed to express male attractiveness (e.g., Gen 39:6). 8. Some translations of ���� portray Leah’s eyes as “weak” or “weary”; alternatively, this term could mean they were pretty or delicate (Gen 29:17) (Kellerman 2004, 497; Speiser 1964, 225).

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In addition to the narrative of Rachel and Leah, the story of Sarah’s pregnancy in old age attests to the importance of women’s fertility (Gen 21:2–7). Revealing a conceptual link between erotic desire, sex, and fertility, in the Song the words for “lovers” and “mandrake” are derived from the same Hebrew root (���). The mandrake, with its intoxicating aroma, serves as an aphrodisiac as well as a cure for infertility (Gen 30:14–16; Song 7:13) (Fleisher and Fleisher 1994). Paradisiacal and cultivated zones provide environments for amorous experiences, and, as exempli�ed in the Song, plants, trees, gardens, orchards, and vineyards are consistently associated with love, sexuality, and fertility (Alter 1985, 185–203; Hess 2005, 75; Meyers 1987, 212): “I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. As a lily among brambles, so is my love among maidens. As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among young men. With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste” (Song 2:1–3). The Song also cites milk, honey, and wine in contexts of sexual desire (Song 4:11; 5:1). An ideal woman’s outward beauty, then, was sustained by her inner beauty, which could be demonstrated through her household productivity and ability to give birth. These responsibilities relied on strength, health, and (with the exception of Sarah) relative youth—factors that underlie biological fertility and physical appearance. Although not conveying the domestic merits of an ordinary housewife, the ivory sculptures nonetheless depict quintessential feminine ideals. Their often-nude bodies and the �oral, fruit, vegetal, and banqueting imagery with which they are associated suggest that the �gures embodied an iconography of beauty based on sexuality and/or reproductive fertility. Outward Beauty: Physical Characteristics of Feminine Beauty The physical characteristics contributing to an iconography of feminine beauty in ivory sculpture can be summarized as incorporating a striking face with large eyes, a curvaceous �gure, fair skin, and thick, styled hair. These traits correspond to Hebrew Bible descriptions, which have parallels in Ugaritic, Akkadian, and Sumerian literature (Gansell 2008, 163–231). In the Song, the beauty of the female beloved is clear: “How fair and pleasant you are, O loved one, delectable maiden!” (Song 7:6). The poem praises her head, hair, eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth, teeth, neck, breasts, belly, navel, thighs (“the work of a master hand,” Song 7:1), and feet.9 In a later example (ca. �rst century B.C.E.–�rst century C.E.), a 9. Head-to-toe descriptions also portray attractive men (for example, 2 Sam 14:25). 1

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parallel narrative describes Sarah, whose head-to-toe beauty is said to surpass that of all virgins and brides (1Qap Genar XX, 2–8a).10 Demonstrating widespread and enduring Near Eastern conventions for describing male and female beauty, ancient Mesopotamian and Egyptian love poetry, as well as traditional Arabic wedding songs of the modern era, offer praise in similar list-like formats (Bernat 2004, 328–34; Hopkins 2007; Keel 1994, 22–24; Pope 1977, 54–85). Full-length nude ivory sculptures of women certainly may have been produced, viewed, and handled, with head-to-toe beauty in mind. Indeed, the fact that these sculptures were frequently held cannot be understated, as evidenced, for example, by an ivory fan handle in the British Museum with wear marks on the face and breasts (BM 126787). Heads and Faces In the Hebrew Bible and across ancient Near Eastern culture, the head represents a whole person and is privileged in a hierarchy of body parts (Schroer and Staubli 2001, 83–91). A woman might cover her head in modesty (Gen 24:65), while exposing it against her will could shame and humiliate her (Isa 47:2). With regard to feminine beauty, biblical descriptions tend to focus on the head through discussions of women’s eyes, hair, adornment, and veils.11 Overall, in ancient Near Eastern art the female head is displayed more frequently and in more detail than any other part of the body.12 Here ivory craftsmen, too, invested special effort. Con�gured from stock features, the female face is characterized by big eyes, strong noses, prominent ears, small mouths, and plump cheeks. Some especially sensitive carvings accentuate its �eshiness by illustrating dimples on the chin, a “double chin” (���������), and/or the philtrum (the indentation above the upper lip) (���������). This emphasis on facial fullness indicates that it was desirable. Facial fullness also likely signaled the presence of a voluptuous physique, whether or not the body was visible.

10. In this paper, Genesis Apocryphon citations are based on Vermès (2004). 11. On the practice of veiling in ancient Israel, see Reade (2002, 559–60), Sasson (2006, 241, 265), and van der Toorn (1995, 329–30). 12. Conversely, the male body, not the head speci�cally, seems to have been emphasized in ancient Near Eastern art (Marcus 1995, 2501).

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Figure 1. Openwork plaque depicting a “woman at the window.” Nimrud. Eighth century B.C.E. Ivory. Ht. 7.19 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1959 (59.107.18). Photograph, all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, N.Y.

Figure 2. Plaque depicting a “woman at the window.” Arslan Tash (Hadatu), Syria. Eighth century B.C.E. Ivory, formerly gilded. Ht. 8.1 cm. Louvre, AO 11459. Réunion des Musées Nationaux / Art Resource, N.Y.

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Figure 3. Chair back with �rst and �nal panels depicting winged women holding �owers. Nimrud. Eighth century B.C.E. Ivory. Ht. 29.21 cm, length 45.11 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1959 (59.107.3). Photograph, all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, N.Y.

Figure 4. Horse frontlet with a nude goddess holding lotus �owers and lions. Nimrud. Ninth–eighth century B.C.E. Ivory. Ht. 16.21 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1961 (61.197.5). Photograph, all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, N.Y.

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Eyes Eyes seem to have been a particularly important aspect of female attractiveness (cf. Leah’s eyes, Gen 29:17). In the Song, the woman’s eyes are mentioned frequently and compared to pools (Song 7:4).13 Her lover says, “You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes” (Song 4:9), and Prov 6:25 warns against adulterous women who might ensnare men with their eyelashes. On the ivory sculptures, eyes tend to be oversized, and precise carving delineates upper and sometimes lower eyelids. Deep drill-holes could mark the irises or pupils, but in some cases the holes are vacant because they have lost their inlays (�����; for examples of intact inlays see ���������). Bodies� The Song compares the body to the graceful movement and supple forms of a dove and gazelle (Song 2:14; 4:5; 7:3). Of all the parts of the woman’s body, the breasts are mentioned most frequently (Song 4:5; 7:3; 7:7, 8; 8:10). This emphasis accords generally with the representations of the nude ivory �gures with full, round breasts that occasionally feature erect nipples (�����). The hourglass shape of these bodies highlights small waists and slightly protruding bellies. On some examples, an indentation above the navel indicates abdominal musculature, and parallel arcs etched below the navel refer to creases or folds in the �esh. The pubic area is usually signi�ed as a triangular zone. Parallel rows of hatches or dots represent hair, and a vertical incised line sometimes marks the labia. The reverse sides of sculptures in-the-round reveal slender backs and plump buttocks that may be complemented by lumbar dimples (���� �). The relative uniformity of the sculptures suggests that they illustrated a body type that was collectively recognized as beautiful. The careful carving of the breasts and pubic area also presents the body as a sexual site with procreative potential. Assorted evidence clari�es that the nudity of the ivory sculptures would not have been construed negatively. Nude female imagery served votive purposes and represented fertility goddesses across millennia of ancient Near Eastern and Egyptian art (Asher-Greve and Sweeney 2006, 150–64; Gubel 2005, 129–33; Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 26–29, 54–56, 66–68, 97–108; Robins 1993, 57, 75, 185–86; Winter 1987, 181–86). 13. “Liquid” eyes are valued in modern Near Eastern culture, too. One ethnographic study recorded that a beautiful bride was described as having eyes like “little coffee cups” (Bauer 1903, 86). Note that the Hebrew and Arabic words for “eye” also mean “spring” or “water source.” 1

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Figure 5. Handle portraying nude women. Nimrud. Eighth century B.C.E. Ivory and gold. Ht. 16.7 cm. Iraq National Museum, IM 56346. Image source: Erich Lessing / Art Resource, N.Y.

Figure 6. Female head. Nimrud. Eighth century B.C.E. Ivory. Ht. 4.2 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1954 (54.117.8). Photograph, all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, N.Y.

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In addition, the nude ivory �gures are presented in auspicious iconographic contexts—sometimes holding �owers, standing atop lotus buds (an Egyptian symbol of regeneration), controlling beasts, and/or associated with royal and sacred Egyptian imagery (���� �). Some of the �gures, such as that illustrated in �����, embellished horse trappings.14 It has been proposed that these sturdy plaques not only offered physical protection, but that the nude women portrayed on them would have had an apotropaic valence (Gubel 2005, 129–30; Winter 1973, 333–34). Skin Fondness for fair skin can be traced throughout ancient Near Eastern literature and is still valued today in Near Eastern culture (Gansell 2008, 250–51).15 In the Song, the woman’s neck is equated to an ivory tower (Song 4:4), and her belly is called a “heap of wheat, encircled with lilies” (Song 7:2). She is compared to a mare with ornamented cheeks— possibly in reference to ivory horse trappings (Song 1:10). Her cheeks (blushing as fair skin might) are described as rosy, like slices of pomegranate (Song 4:3; 6:7).16 However, contradicting these idealizing references implying a light skin tone, she admits that she is dark-skinned (Song 1:5–6). Interpretations vary as to whether the Song expresses that she is beautiful despite of, or because of, her dark skin (Hess 2005, 54– 58; Keel 1994, 46–49; Pope 1977, 307–18). Ancient looting, exposure to �res, and millennia of archaeological burial have damaged and discolored many of the ivory sculptures, which originally would have portrayed fair, luminous �gures. Gold foils, fragments of which survive on the sculpture illustrated in ���� �, sometimes embellished hair, headdresses, and garments, and there is evidence for cases in which it might have at least partially covered a �gure’s face or body (Herrmann 1989, 88). Polished ivory “skin,” however, would have been visible on most of the �gures (Herrmann 1986, 58), and the grain of the ivory could have accentuated facial structure or physique. For example, a swirl highlights the tip of the nose of the �gure illustrated in �����, and whorls enhance the cheeks of the sculpture known as the “Mona Lisa of Nimrud” (�����).

14. For further discussion and examples of Levantine ivory horse trappings, see Gubel 2005; Orchard 1967; and Wicke 1999. 15. Note the description of Sarah’s radiant face and white skin in 1Qap Genar XX, 2–4. 16. Regarding a preference for fair, ruddy skin on men, see Song 5:10 and Lam 4:7–8. 1

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Figure 7. Female face known as the “Ugly Sister.” Nimrud. Ninth–eighth century B.C.E. Ivory; necklace originally �lled with colored paste and gold. Ht. 13.69 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1954 (54.117.2). Photograph, all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Figure 8. Female face known as the “Mona Lisa of Nimrud.” Nimrud. Eighth century B.C.E. Ivory. Ht. 16 cm. Iraq National Museum, museum number not known, excavation number ND 2250. Image source: Scala / Art Resource, N.Y.

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Figure 9. Female torso, back view. Nimrud. Ninth–eighth century B.C.E. Ivory. Ht. 20.65 cm. The British Museum, BM 126695. � The Trustees of the British Museum.

Figure 10. Madonna and Child by Duccio di Buoninsegna. Ca. 1300. Tempera and gold on wood. Ht. with engaged frame 27.9 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2004.442. Photograph, all rights reserved, The Metropolitan Museum of Art. 1

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Hair The luxuriant hair depicted on the ivory �gures certainly would have contributed to their beauty. Framing the face and covering the bare shoulders of nude �gures, it likely had erotic connotations as well. Song 4:1 praises the hair of the female beloved as “a �ock of goats, moving down the slopes of Gilead.” This passage probably refers to tresses tumbling down her back. Further emphasizing the role of hair in Levantine conceptions of female attractiveness, vain women are condemned to baldness (Isa 3:24), and women in mourning shave their heads (Deut 21:12). Beauti�cation: Practices of Personal Enhancement Both texts and images document personal enhancement, indicating the role of “beauti�cation” customs in ancient Near Eastern conceptions of beauty. The Hebrew Bible speci�cally refers to fragrance, cosmetics, coiffure, dress, and adornment.17 Some biblical women’s names re�ect these practices. “Basemath” means “fragrant with balsam” (Gen 26:34; 36:3; 1 Kgs 4:15) (Layton 1990, 207, 215), and one of Job’s beautiful daughters was named Keziah for “cinnamon tree” (Job 42:14–15). Another daughter of Job was called Keren-Happuch, or “horn of eyepaint” (Job 42:14) (Coogan 1990, 145–46), and the female name Mahalath means “adornment” (Gen 28:9; 2 Chr 11:18). In the Hebrew Bible, personal enhancement augments the attractiveness of virtuous women, but it cannot disguise the ugliness of women who lack inner beauty. For example, a metaphor referring to the city of Jerusalem states: “O desolate one, what do you mean that you dress in crimson, that you deck yourself with ornaments of gold, that you enlarge your eyes with paint? In vain you beautify yourself. Your lovers despise you” (Jer 4:30). The “bedecked” image of the ill-fated Phoenician queen, Jezebel, is also put forth as a negative role model: “When Jehu came to Jezreel, Jezebel heard of it; she painted her eyes, and adorned her head, and looked out of the window” (2 Kgs 9:30). Although personal enhancement itself is not scorned, biblical literature clearly warns against its unethical uses. A number of references associate women’s perfume, make-up, clothing, and jewelry with moral corruption and prostitution (Isa 3:16–24; Jer 4:30; Ezek 16:15–18; 23:40–42).

17. For biblical, visual, and archaeological evidence of women’s beauti�cation practices in the Iron Age Levant, see Dayagi-Mendels 1995, 8–9; Edwards 1992, 232–35; and Platt 1992, 823–27.

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Dated about �ve hundred years later than the ivory sculptures, the story of Judith may nonetheless be relevant to early �rst-millennium B.C.E. conceptions and practices of beauti�cation. Suggesting ancient continuities, it demonstrates parallels to second-millennium B.C.E. Near Eastern literature.18 In the narrative, Judith, who was “beautiful in appearance…[and] very lovely to behold” (Jdt 8:7), sheds the robes of widowhood and gets “dressed to kill” the enemy Holofernes. Beautifying herself to “entice the eyes of all the men who might see her” (Jdt 10:4), she bathes, applies fragrance, �xes her hair, and puts on a tiara, �ne attire, and sandals. Then, piece-by-piece, she ornaments herself with all of her jewelry. Fragrance and Cosmetics We have no evidence that ivory sculptures exuded scent, so they cannot provide witness to the fragrant aspect of feminine beauty. However, in the Hebrew Bible, attractive women are often associated with a pleasing fragrance. The basic preference for a clean and pleasant-smelling body is summarized by a condemnation directed toward arrogant women: “Instead of perfume there will be a stench” (Isa 3:24). Using topical treatments and fumigation, the skin, hair, and clothing could be scented, for example, with myrrh, aloes, and cassia (Ps 45:8) (Albright 1974). The Song praises the fragrance of the female beloved: “How much better is…the fragrance of your oils than any spice” (Song 4:10); “The scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon” (Song 4:11). And, in the book of Esther, before being fully integrated into the Persian court, Esther, who was innately attractive, undergoes a yearlong process of puri�cation and aesthetic preparation involving perfumes and cosmetics (Est 2:12) (De Troyer 1995). Biblical women’s names, cited above, attest to the positive use of fragrance and make-up, which are also worn by harlots. References to cosmetics in the Hebrew Bible are not as common as discussions of fragrance, but, when mentioned, eye make-up is speci�ed (2 Kgs 9:30; Jer 4:30; Ezek 23:40). Enhancing the eyes with kohl would emulate the ideal of large, dark eyes. Probably depicting this same beauti�cation practice, the eyes of the “Mona Lisa of Nimrud” are outlined in black (�����). 18. The Sumerian myth “Inanna’s Descent” (lines 14–25) describes the goddess’s preparations before descending to the netherworld (Black et al. 2004, 65– 76; Katz 1995, 228–29; 2003, 257–58). Also, in the Ugaritic Baal Cycle (KTU 1.3 II.1–2), the goddess Anat wears henna, the scent of coriander, and purple dye in preparation for battle (Korpel 1990, 424–26; Marsman 2003, 136–37). Ugaritic citations in this paper are based on Dietrich, Loretz, and J. Sanmartín 1995. 1

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Hairstyle While the presence and properties of women’s hair contributed to ancient Near Eastern notions of beauty, its careful arrangement was also important. In the Hebrew Bible, women’s hair is styled (Isa 3:24) and praised (Song 4:1; 6:5; 7:5; also see 1Qap Genar XX, 2). An ancient reality in which meticulously styled hair was admired may underlie the attention both biblical authors and ivory sculptors gave to hairstyle (Niditch 2008, 27, 59). Long, full hairstyles are depicted across the variety of ivory �gures. The complexity of the style corresponds to the detail in which the entire work was carved. Two main hairstyles can be identi�ed: a long and wavy coiffure and an Egyptian style. The �rst style is speci�cally feminine and characterized by centrally parted curls or wavy locks rendered in �ne, parallel strands falling at least to the shoulders (�������� ������). Some variations incorporate “�nger curls” in front of the ears and/or braids down the back. The Egyptian style, portrayed on men and women, features tendrils layered or bound in short segments (���������).19 It refers either to an Egyptian wig or to a hairstyle imitating the design of Egyptian wigs.20 Since some of the �gures depicted with this hairstyle are nude, it is unlikely that the sculptures record a custom of covering one’s natural hair for the sake of modesty. But, even if this were the case, the use of wigs would af�rm the importance of coiffure. Dress While female nudity is certainly presented as alluring (2 Sam 11:2), dress can also enhance a woman’s image (Ruth 3:3). Clothing in the Hebrew Bible communicates wealth and metaphorically conveys a woman’s honor and wisdom (Prov 31:25). Lavish dress is noted for its color (usually red, blue, and purple) and brilliance (Exod 39:1–31; Judg 5:30; Prov 31:21–22; Ps 45:13–14; Jer 4:30; 2 Sam 1:24). Fine clothing was embellished with gold ornaments (2 Sam 1:24) and embroidered with gold thread: “Gold leaf was hammered out and cut into threads to work into the blue, purple, and crimson yarns and into the �ne twisted linen, in skilled design” (Exod 39:3). The pleats, drapery, copious fabric, and sometimes-diaphanous nature of the clothing represented on the ivory �gures corroborate the aesthetic importance of clothing (�����). Biblical references can help us to envision the manner in which these 19. Compared to men, women generally wear a longer version of the Egyptianstyle coiffure. 20. On Egyptian women’s wigs and hairstyles, see Arnold (1996, 37–38) and Robins (1993, 184–85).

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carved images might originally have been embellished with inlays, overlays, and pigments (Herrmann 1986, 58–60). Adornment The Hebrew Bible mentions adornment of gold, silver, and gemstones. In the Song, the female beloved wears a necklace (Song 1:10; 4:9), and her neck is described as a tower decorated with shields (Song 4:4). This metaphor brings to mind the medallions on necklaces depicted on some of the ivory sculptures (�����). Similar necklaces have been excavated from the tombs of Neo-Assyrian queens in Iraq, establishing that jewelry of this type was actually worn in the Iron Age Near East (Hussein and Suleiman 2000, illus. 54, 72, 129). The deceased queens may have been of Levantine origin; otherwise, the necklaces could represent Levantine imports and/or a pan-Near Eastern style. Gold diadems, earrings, and anklets, also excavated from these tombs, provide additional concrete examples of adornment types illustrated on the ivory �gures and mentioned in the Hebrew Bible (����� ���) (Gen 24; 2 Kgs 9:30; Isa 3:18–23; Jer 2:32; Ezek 16:11–12; 23:40–42) (Hussein and Suleiman 2000, illus. 23, 29, 42–45, 77, 82, 177, 184, 186). As emblems of wealth, status, and royalty, biblical authors may have been familiar with these or similar fashions. Across ancient Near Eastern culture, jewelry was used as marital presentation and bridal attire. The weight of its metal re�ects standard economic means, while the ornaments themselves could please and beautify a bride (Gen 24; Isa 49:18; 61:10; Jer 2:32). However, like outward beauty and other forms of beauti�cation, adornment is not always a positive instrument. In Ezek 16, the divine bedecks the sexually mature body of the personi�ed city of Jerusalem. Her apparel, representing either bridal attire or matrimonial gifts, involves a crown, earrings, nose-ring, necklace, bracelets, and clothing of silver and gold (Ezek 16:10–13). She is acclaimed as “beautiful” and “�t to be a queen” (Ezek 16:13), but she behaves as a whore (Ezek 16:15–22). Who Is That Woman at the Window? Levantine ivory sculpture never depicts men at windows, but plaques of varying designs and styles that once decorated elite furniture consistently show female faces looking out from ornate fenestrations (����� ��� �) (Suter 1992).21 The examples illustrated here portray women with full 21. Based on a Neo-Assyrian relief sculpture depicting a royal couch decorated with images of �gures in window frames, Ellen Rehm has suggested that eunuchs, 1

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faces. Round hairlines and sweeping brows accentuate their wide eyes. The openwork carving (���� �), which is typically described as Phoenician in style, portrays a woman with long, wavy hair wearing a diadem with a round, perhaps �oral, ornament in the center. The sculpture from Arslan Tash (�����), which may be described as Syrian in style, depicts a woman wearing an Egyptian hairstyle, earrings, and, over her forehead, a rectangular ornament embellished with tassels or pendants. The headdress depicted on the Arslan Tash sculpture (�����), as well as on many other ivory women (����� ��� �), matches a gold example excavated from the Neo-Assyrian royal burials discussed above (Hussein and Suleiman 2000, illus. 23). According to tomb inscriptions, the queen with whom it was associated was probably of Levantine, if not Hebrew, origin (Dalley 2004). This and other headdresses depicted on the ivory �gures would have marked them as de�nitively elite or royal (or possibly as cultic devotees or goddesses, Ciafaloni 2009, 312; Gubel 2005, 129–30). The diadem design might also have expressed fertility: what appear on the sculptures to be tassels or pendants on the central ornament correspond to miniature pomegranates on the excavated gold example. Likewise indicating high status, the window frame is likely to refer to palace architecture. Excavation of the late eighth- to early seventhcentury B.C.E. Judahite palace at Ramat Rahel revealed a stone balustrade of the same form as is depicted on many of the ivories (Dayagi-Mendels and Rozenberg 2011, 69–71). Textual sources also present the woman-at-the-window motif, such as the infamous Jezebel, who, with painted eyes, peers out of her queenly quarters in 2 Kgs 9:30.22 In addition, the Late Bronze Age Ugaritic Baal Cycle indicates anxieties about the architectural visibility of elite women. For fear that they would escape or be seized, Baal refuses to install a window for the women of his palace (KTU 1.4 VI.7–11). Biblical descriptions af�rm that the woman-at-the-window ivories would have ful�lled visual conventions of feminine beauty through their facial types, elaborate hairstyles, and elite adornments. But observable aspects of rank and beauty do not necessarily correlate to ideal personal

rather than women were depicted in some windows (2003, 2005). However, I would argue that in the case of this relief it is more likely that the Neo-Assyrian artist altered or misrepresented the appearance of actual Levantine ivory sculptures, which consistently depicted women at the window. 22. For discussion of this text and its relationship to ancient Near Eastern iconography, see Beach (1991, 1997).

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qualities. In fact, this iconographic design has previously been interpreted to indicate harlotry, and it resonates closely with the story of the royal idolatress Jezebel, who looked out of the window moments before being thrown to her death and eaten by dogs (2 Kgs 9:30–37) (Suter 1992). Yet, �tting with the ivory corpus’s comprehensive iconographic repertoire of plants, animals, men, and other women, the woman-atthe-window sculptures, too, were probably positively coded in their representations of feminine beauty. I therefore interpret the woman-at-the-window motif to designate elite, sequestered women. In particular, it could have been inspired by the idea that physically inaccessible royal women viewed the world from their palace windows, where outsiders could glimpse or even make eye contact with them. The ivories might illustrate this fantasy of a passing opportunity to engage with their beauty. Obscuring the body, the window frame denotes the distance from which the woman is viewed. It also suggests the protection that she is afforded as a vital and valuable member of the household. It thereby reiterates her integrity as a wife or maiden. In the manner of the parapet behind which Duccio depicted the Madonna and Child in a medieval devotional painting (���� ��), the window frame simultaneously connects and separates the world of the observer from the imagined realm occupied by the �gure (Christiansen 2008, 50–51). Indeed, the tension of such a viewing experience might engender a “longing to possess a particular body” and offer a “material infusion of beauty…in the concrete act of seeing and [theoretically] being seen” (Hopkins 2007, 8–9). Embellishing furniture in contexts where elite and royal women actually lived, woman-at-the-window imagery would presumably have been understood to refer to women of other households. From a Hebrew perspective, at least some of their distinctive fashions (such as hairstyle and jewelry) may have designated their foreign (maybe Egyptian, Phoenician, or Syrian) identity. Otherwise, a “woman at the window” might have been understood as a hypothetical member of another local household or as an exotic, fantastical, or divine �gure. Although potentially titillating sexual desires and setting standards of female attractiveness, I propose that the woman-at-the-window motif also presented both men and women with models of feminine beauty that would have reinforced notions of the purity, fertility, and prosperity of their own lineages.

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Conclusion To summarize, feminine beauty is a powerful phenomenon, and its representation in Iron Age ivory sculpture played a unique visual, if not tactile, role in elite Levantine culture. Decorating furniture and portable objects, an established repertoire of early �rst-millennium B.C.E. ivory sculpture included eye-catching depictions of women. Drawing upon biblical and visual evidence, this essay has sought to articulate and interpret these depictions. A vision of feminine beauty is revealed based on characteristics of inner beauty, outward beauty, and practices of beauti�cation. Physical ideals include large eyes, fair skin, and slender but curvy, youthful bodies. Ornate hairstyles, garments, and jewelry signify high status and contribute to the �gures’ head-to-toe attractiveness. Overall, I suggest that the ivory women expressed virtuous but desirable sexual fertility, which would have reinforced broader cultural ideologies. Any effort to interpret ancient images, and the thoughts and beliefs embedded in them, is by nature a speculative exercise (de Hulster 2009). In this case, we are further limited by a dispersed and fragmentary artifact corpus. Archaeological excavation might someday yield additional evidence or new historical records to clarify the circumstances in which the ivories were commissioned, produced, and displayed, but we will still be left to hypothesize their relationships to individual perceptions and the cultural consciousness. Nonetheless, I hope that the present attempt to decipher the iconography in Iron Age Levantine conceptions of ideal feminine beauty has established a foundation for future study from biblical, art historical, archaeological, and interdisciplinary perspectives. Bibliography Albright, W. F. 1974. The Lachish Cosmetic Burner and Esther 2:12. Pages 25–32 in A Light Unto My Path: Studies in Honor of Jacob M. Myers. Edited by H. N. Bream, R. D. Heim, and C. A. Moore. GTS 4. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Alter, R. 1985. The Art of Biblical Poetry. New York: Basic Books. Arnold, D. 1996. The Royal Women of Amarna: Images of Beauty from Ancient Egypt. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Asher-Greve, J. M., and D. Sweeney. 2006. On Nakedness, Nudity, and Gender. Pages 125–76 in Images and Gender: Contributions to the Hermeneutics of Reading Ancient Art. Edited by S. Schroer. OBO 220. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

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Barnett, R. D. 1975. A Catalogue of the Nimrud Ivories: With Other Examples of Ancient Near Eastern Ivories in the British Museum. 2d ed. London: British Museum Publications. Bauer, L. 1903. Volksleben im Lande der Bibel. Leipzig: Wallmann. Beach, E. F. 1991. Image and Word: Iconology in the Interpretation of Hebrew Scriptures. Ph.D. diss., Claremont Graduate University. ———. 1997. Transforming Goddess Iconography in Hebrew Narrative. Pages 239–63 in Woman and Goddess Traditions. Edited by K. L. King. Minneapolis: Fortress. Bernat, D. 2004. Biblical Wa�fs Beyond Song of Songs. JSOT 28:327–49. Black, J., G. Cunningham, E. Robson, and G. Zólyomi, eds. 2004. The Literature of Ancient Sumer. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cecchini, S. M., S. Mazzoni, and E. Scigliuzzo, eds. 2009. Syrian and Phoenician Ivories of the First Millennium BCE: Proceedings of the Conference Held in Pisa, December 9th–11th, 2004. Pisa: ETS. Christiansen, K. 2008. Duccio and the Origins of Western Painting. BMMA 66:6–61. Ciafaloni, D. 2009. A Taste for Egypt: Egyptianizing Ivories and Other Artifacts at the Neo Assyrian Court. Pages 307–17 in Cecchini, Mazzoni, and Scigliuzzo 2009. Coogan, M. D. 1990. Job’s Children. Pages 137–47 in Lingering Over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran. Edited by T. Abusch, J. Huehnergard, and P. Steinkeller. HSS 37. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Crowfoot, J. W., and G. M. Crowfoot. 1938. Early Ivories from Samaria. SamariaSebaste 2. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Dalley, S. 2004. Recent Evidence from Assyrian Sources for Judaean History from Uzziah to Manasseh. JSOT 28:387–401. Dayagi-Mendels, M. 1995. Timeless Beauty: Ancient Perfume and Cosmetic Containers: Selections from the Collection of the Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Washington: The Inter-American Development Bank, Culture Center. Dayagi-Mendels, M., and S. Rozenberg, eds. 2011. Chronicles of the Land: Archaeology in the Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Catalogue 557. 2d ed. Jerusalem: The Israel Museum. de Hulster, I. J. 2009. What Is an Image? A Basis for Iconographic Exegesis. Pages 225– 32 in Iconography and Biblical Studies: Proceedings of the Iconography Sessions at the Joint EABS/SBL Conference, 22–26 July 2007, Vienna, Austria. Edited by I. J. de Hulster and R. Schmitt. AOAT 361. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. De Troyer, K. 1995. An Oriental Beauty Parlor: An Analysis of Esther 2.8–18 in the Hebrew, the Septuagint and the Second Greek Text. Pages 47–70 in A Feminist Companion to Esther, Judith, and Susanna. Edited by A. Brenner. FCB 7. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Academic. Dietrich, M., O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín, eds. 1995. The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places. 2d English ed. ALASPM 8. Münster: Ugarit. Edwards, D. R. 1992. Dress and Ornamentation. Pages 232–38 in vol. 2 of Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by D. Freedman. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday,1992. Feldman, M. 2006. Diplomacy by Design: Luxury Arts and an “International Style” in the Ancient Near East, 1400–1200 BCE. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Fleisher, A., and Z. Fleisher. 1994. The Fragrance of Biblical Mandrake. Econ. Bot. 48:243–51. 1

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Gansell, A. R. 2008. Women of Ivory as Embodiments of Ideal Feminine Beauty in the Ancient Near East During the First Millennium BCE. Ph.D. diss., Harvard University. ———. 2009. Measuring Beauty: An Anthropometric Methodology for the Assessment of Ideal Feminine Beauty as Embodied in First Millennium BCE Ivory Carvings. Pages 155–70 in Cecchini, Mazzoni, and Scigliuzzo 2009. Gansell, A. R. et al. 2014. Stylistic Clusters and the Syrian/South Syrian Tradition of First Millennium BCE Levantine Ivory Carving: A Machine Learning Approach. Journal of Archaeological Science 44:194–205. Gubel, E. 2005. Phoenician and Aramean Bridle-harness Decoration: Examples of Cultural Contact and Innovation in the Eastern Mediterranean. Pages 111–47 in Suter and Uehlinger 2005. Herrmann, G. 1986. Ivories from Room SW 37 Fort Shalmaneser. 2 vols. Ivories from Nimrud, fasc. 4. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. ———. 1989. The Nimrud Ivories, 1: The Flame and Frond School. Iraq 51:85–109. ———. 1992. The Small Collections from Fort Shalmaneser. Ivories from Nimrud, fasc. 5. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. ———. 2000. Ivory Carving of First Millennium Workshops, Traditions and Diffusion. Pages 265–85 in Uehlinger 2000. ———. 2005. Naming, De�ning, Explaining: A View from Nimrud. Pages 11–21 in Suter and Uehlinger 2005. Herrmann, G., and A. Millard. 2003. Who Used Ivories in the Early First Millennium BC? Pages 377–402 in Culture Through Objects: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honour of P. R. S. Moorey. Edited by T. Potts, M. Roaf, and D. Stein. Oxford: Grif�th Institute. Herrmann, G., and S. Laidlaw, with H. Coffey. 2009. Ivories from the North West Palace (1845–1992). Ivories from Nimrud, fasc. 6. London: British Institute for the Study of Iraq (Gertrude Bell Memorial). Hess, R. S. 2005. Song of Songs. BCOTWP. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic. Hopkins, S. P. 2007. Extravagant Beholding: Love, Ideal Bodies, and Particularity. HR 47:1–50. Höver-Johag, I. 1986. ��� �ôb. Pages 296–317 in vol. 5 of TDOT. Hussein, M., and A. Suleiman. 2000. Nimrud: A City of Golden Treasures. Baghdad: Directorate of Antiquities and Heritage. Katz, D. 1995. Inanna’s Descent and Undressing the Dead as Divine Law. ZA 85:221–33. ———. 2003. The Image of the Netherworld in Sumerian Sources. Bethesda: CDL. Keel, O. 1994. The Song of Songs: A Continental Commentary. Translated by F. J. Gaiser. Minneapolis: Fortress. ———. 1997. Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Book of Psalms. Translated by T. Hallett. New York: Seabury, 1978. Repr., Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger. 1996. Altorientalische Miniaturkunst: Die ältesten visuellen Massenkommunikationsmittel. Ein Blick in die Sammlungen des Biblischen Instituts der Universität Freiburg Schweiz. 2d ed. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 1998. Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel. Translated by T. S. Trapp. Minneapolis: Fortress. Kellerman, D. 2004. ��� �� r��a�. Pages 496–98 in vol. 13 of TDOT.

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Korpel, M. C. A. 1990. A Rift in the Clouds: Ugaritic and Hebrew Descriptions of the Divine. UBL 8. Münster: Ugarit. Kronholm, T. 1998. ��� �� n��am. Pages 467–74 in vol. 9 of TDOT. Layton, S. C. 1990. Archaic Features of Canaanite Personal Names in the Hebrew Bible. HSM 47. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Lillas-Schuil, R. 2006. A Survey of Syntagms in the Hebrew Bible Classi�ed as Hendiadys. Pages 79–100 in Current Issues in the Analysis of Semitic Grammar and Lexicon II. Edited by L. Edzard and J. Retsö. AKM 59. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Loud, G., and C. B. Altman. 1938. Khorsabad II: The Citadel and the Town. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Mallowan, M. E. L., and G. Herrmann. 1974. Furniture from SW.7 Fort Shalmaneser: Commentary, Catalogue and Plates. Ivories from Nimrud, fasc. 3. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Marcus, M. I. 1995. Art and Ideology in Ancient Western Asia. Pages 2487–2505 in vol. 4 of Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Edited by J. M. Sasson. 4 vols. New York: Scribner. Marsman, H. J. 2003. Women in Ugarit and Israel: Their Social and Religious Position in the Context of the Ancient Near East. OTS 49. Boston: Brill. Mazzoni, S. 2009. Ivories and Art Traditions in the Hama Region. Pages 107–32 in Cecchini, Mazzoni, and Scigliuzzo 2009. Meyers, C. 1987. Gender Imagery in the Song of Songs. HAR 10:209–23. Millard, A. R. 1962. Alphabetic Inscriptions on Ivories from Nimrud. Iraq 24:41–51. ———. 2005. Makers’ Marks, Owners’ Names and Individual Identity. Pages 1–10 in Suter and Uehlinger 2005. Niditch, S. 2008. My Brother Esau Is a Hairy Man: Hair and Identity in Ancient Israel. New York: Oxford University Press. Orchard, J. 1967. Equestrian Bridle-Harness Ornaments. Ivories from Nimrud, fasc. 1, pt. 2. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Platt, E. 1992. Jewelry, Ancient Israelite. Pages 823–34 in vol. 3 of Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by D. Freedman. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday,1992. Pope, M. H. 1977. Song of Songs: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 7c. Garden City: Doubleday. Reade, J. E. 2002. Sexism and Homotheism in Ancient Iraq. Pages 551–68 in Sex and Gender in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 47th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Helsinki, July 2–6, 2001. Edited by S. Parpola and R. M. Whiting. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Rehm, E. 2003. Abschied von der Heiligen Hure. Zum Bildmotiv der “Frau am Fenster” in der phönizisch-nordsyrischen Elfenbeinschnitzkunst. UF 35:487–519. ———. 2005. Assyrische Möbel für den assyrischen Herrscher! Pages 187–206 in Suter and Uehlinger 2005. Ringgren, H. 1990. ��� �� y�pâ. Pages 218–20 in vol. 6 of TDOT. Robins, G. 1993. Women in Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum. Sasson, J. M. 2006. The Servant’s Tale: How Rebekah Found a Spouse. JNES 65:241–65. Schroer, S., and T. Staubli. 2001. Body Symbolism in the Bible. Translated by L. M. Maloney. Collegeville: Liturgical. Speiser, E. A. 1964. Genesis: Introduction, Translation, and Notes. AB 1. Garden City: Doubleday. 1

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Suter, C. E. 1992. Die Frau am Fenster in der orientalischen Elfenbein-Schnitzkunst des frühen I. Jahrtausends v. Chr. JbBadWürt 29:7–28. ———. 2011. Images, Tradition, and Meaning: The Samaria and Other Levantine Ivories of the Iron Age. Pages 219–40 in A Common Cultural Heritage: Studies on Mesopotamia and the Biblical World in Honor of Barry L. Eichler. Edited by G. Frame et al. Bethesda: CDL. Suter, C. E., and C. Uehlinger, eds. 2005. Crafts and Images in Contact: Studies on Eastern Mediterranean Art of the First Millennium BCE. OBO 210. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Thomason, A. K. 1999. Capturing the Exotic: Royal Ivory Collecting and the NeoAssyrian Imagining of North Syria. Ph.D. diss., Columbia University. ———. 2010. Banquets, Baubles, and Bronzes: Material Comforts in the Neo-Assyrian Palaces. Pages 198–214 in Assyrian Reliefs from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II: A Cultural Biography. Edited by A. Cohen and S. E. Kangas. Hanover, N.H.: Hood Museum of Art, Dartmouth College and University Press of New England. ———. 2013. Impact of the Portable: “Minor” Works of Art in the Ancient Near East. Pages 133–58 in Critical Approaches to Ancient Near Eastern Art. Edited by M. Feldman and B. Brown. Boston: de Gruyter. Thureau-Dangin, F. et al. 1931. Arslan-Tash. HCSL BibAH 16. Paris: Paul Geuthner. Uehlinger, C., ed. 2000. Images as Media: Sources for the Cultural History of the Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean (1st Millennium BCE). OBO 175. Fribourg: University Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Uehlinger, C. 2005. Die Elfenbeinschnitzereien von Samaria und die Religionsgeschichte Israels: Vorüberlegungen zu einem Forschungsprojekt. Pages 149–86 in Suter and Uehlinger 2005. van der Toorn, K. 1995. The Signi�cance of the Veil in the Ancient Near East. Pages 327–39 in Pomegranates and Golden Bells: Studies in Biblical, Jewish, and Near Eastern Ritual, Law, and Literature in Honor of Jacob Milgrom. Edited by D. P. Wright, D. N. Freedman, and A. Hurvitz. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Vermès, G., ed. 2004. The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English. Translated and edited with an introduction by G. Vermès. PengCl. Rev. ed. Baltimore: Penguin. Wicke, D. 1999. Altorientalische Pferdescheuklappen. UF 31:803–52. ———. 2005. “Roundcheeked and Ringletted”: Gibt es einen nordwestsyrischen Regionalstil in der altorientalischen Elfenbeinschnitzerei? Pages 67–110 in Suter and Uehlinger 2005. Winter, I. J. 1973. North Syria in the Early First Millennium B.C. with Special Reference to Ivory Carving. Ph.D. diss., Columbia University. ———. 1981. Is There a South Syrian Style of Ivory Carving in the Early First Millennium B.C.? Iraq 43:101–30. ———. 1989. North Syrian Ivories and Tell Halaf Reliefs: The Impact of Luxury Goods upon “Major” Arts. Pages 321–38 in Essays in Ancient Civilizations Presented to Helene J. Kantor. Edited by A. Leonard, Jr. and B. Beyer Williams. SAOC 47. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ———. 1992. Review of G. Herrmann, Ivories from Room SW 37 Fort Shalmaneser. JNES 51:135–41 ———. 1998. Review of G. Herrmann, The Small Collections from Fort Shalmaneser. JNES 57:150–53.

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———. 2000. Le Palais imaginaire: Scale and Meaning in the Iconography of NeoAssyrian Cylinder Seals. Pages 51–87 in Uehlinger 2000. Winter, U. 1987. Frau und Göttin: Exegetische und ikonographische Studien zum weiblichen Gottesbild im Alten Israel und in dessen Umwelt. OBO 53. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

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FINDING ASHERAH: THE GODDESSES IN TEXT AND IMAGE Jackie Wyse-Rhodes

Much has been written concerning Israel’s regard for goddesses. Did the ancient Israelites, at any point in their history, worship goddesses alongside Yahweh? Something of a consensus seems to have developed that, in all likelihood, the answer is yes, and one of those goddesses was almost certainly Asherah.1 Scholars making determinations about whether or when Asherah was worshipped in Israel generally do so on the basis of textual evidence, especially Ugaritic mythological literature and the Hebrew Bible, as well as epigraphic evidence, especially the inscriptions at Khirbet el-Qom and Kuntillet �Ajrud. But it is not only texts that Asherah has been said to inhabit: she has also been recognized in a variety of images, from the so-called “twig goddesses” of the Middle

1. Among those who agree that Asherah was worshipped in Israel, there is disagreement about when, and to what extent. Judith Hadley (2000, 209) argues for a truly ancient, pre-biblical worship of Asherah, vestiges of which remain in the biblical record, in which “her name ‘Asherah’ gradually evolved into a designation of merely her cultic pole, as the editors of the text attempted to eliminate the evidence of her former worship among the Israelites.” Though Mark Smith is less optimistic about texts in the Hebrew Bible purported to name the goddess herself, he asserts that Gen 49 “may point to Asherah as an Israelite goddess at some point in early Israel” with the epithet “Blessings of Breast and Womb” (2002, 48–50). Tilde Binger (1997, 121) agrees with Hadley and Smith that Asherah underwent a transformation from goddess to object in Israel; however, unlike Smith, Binger believes that worship of Asherah extended through the Davidic dynasty: “[T]he deuteronomists seem to have known a goddess called ���� and…they not only seem to have known her and had a reference for her, but…they placed her as part of the of�cial Jerusalem cult, and as being worshipped by several representatives of the Davidic dynasty.” Saul Olyan is equally enthusiastic: “Asherah and her cult symbol were legitimate not only in popular Yahwism, but in the of�cial cult as well.” Olyan goes on to assert that it is only when Asherah, along with the cult symbol bearing her name, comes to be associated with the cult of Baal, that they are condemned with “the stamp of Yahwistic illegitimacy” (1998, 74).

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Bronze Age, to the “Qudshu-type” plaque �gurines of the Late Bronze Age, to the Iron Age Judean Pillar Figurines, to the stylized trees �anked by caprids, which appear as early as the thirteenth century at Lachish and as late as the Iron Age at Kuntillet �Ajrud. However, the recent work of Izak Cornelius (2004, 2008a, 2008b, 2010) and Paolo Merlo (2010) on the iconography of Syro-Palestinian goddesses offers a more tempered interpretation of the iconography of Asherah—simply put, according to Cornelius and Merlo, there is no such de�nitive iconography. Cornelius tackles the issue of properly interpreting the iconography of four Syro-Palestinian goddesses: Anat, Astarte, Qudshu, and Asherah. The only sure way to identify goddesses is to begin with “inscribed images,” which are all Egyptian (2004, 17). After comparing the inscribed (or labeled) images with other, uninscribed images, Cornelius forms an “iconographic pro�le” of each goddess in question (2004, 17).2 Challenges are encountered when labeled representations are rare or non-existent.3 The studies of Cornelius and Merlo suggest that, since there is no labeled iconographic portrayal of Asherah, any identi�cation of her depiction remains uncertain. This essay will bring the recent work of Cornelius and Merlo in conversation with the textual evidence, suggesting that scholars have been too quick to posit Asherah as the “default” Hebrew goddess. In fact, I will argue that not only is there a virtual absence of de�nitive Asherah iconography, but the textual evidence for the presence of the goddess is also limited.4 In the end, I will explore the possibility that, in the Hebrew Bible, Asherah may function not so much as a goddess in her own right, but rather as a scapegoat, a rhetorical mitigation of the real threat posed by other goddess cults.

2. It is striking to compare Cornelius’s modest claims for Asherah with his more con�dent typology for Anat (2004, 16), Astarte (2004, 17), and Qedeshet/Qudshu (2004, 18–19). 3. Cornelius (2004, 5) writes: “How do we identify the goddess represented, especially with regard to Syria-Palestine, when there is only one stela with the name of Anat and one cylinder seal with the name Astarte available? How do we differentiate between the goddesses under discussion? Anat and Astarte had very similar iconographies and were often confused. The million dollar question is still what Asherah looked like.” 4. This essay is indebted to Frevel’s two-volume work (1995) which also evaluates the textual and archaeological record of Asherah, and urges a more careful rendering thereof. 1

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The Winchester Stele and Qudshu-type Images The Winchester Stele (�����) portrays a goddess in a somewhat standard form: standing naked atop a lion, with at least one snake in her hand. What makes the stele unique is the set of hieroglyphic inscriptions reading: “Qudshu, Ashtart, Anat.” Since Ashtart and Anat were SyroPalestinian goddesses, scholars supposed that Qudshu must have a SyroPalestinian corollary, and they have offered Asherah as the logical choice. Their case is bolstered by some Ugaritic texts that may present Qudshu as an epithet for Athirat—though Merlo notes, “all the passages quoted to corroborate such a hypothesis can receive better and alternative interpretations” (2010, 2). Also, Kristen Lahn has explored the Egyptian tendency to “transfer” the identities and characteristics of Qudshu onto those of other cultures (2005). If the stele is interpreted in light of Lahn’s �ndings, the inclusion of Qudshu’s name (and the posited exclusion of Asherah’s name) could indicate that Asherah was not widely known as a Syro-Palestinian goddess at the time (especially when compared with Qudshu’s renown).

Figure 1. Winchester Stele. Painted limestone. Deir el-Medina(?). 1198–1166 B.C.E. After Cornelius 2004, pl. 5.16. Used with permission.

Frank Moore Cross claimed Qudshu’s identi�cation with Asherah already in 1973 (33), and Judith Hadley cited him in agreement in 2000 (47). But Merlo and Cornelius demur. Cornelius asserts that, even if Qudshu might be an epithet of Asherah in some cases, it does not mean that every stele marked as such can be called an “Asherah depiction.” Steve Wiggins (2007, 229–30) also disagrees, asking: First, why must all the Winchester goddesses be Syrian, since the stele was found in Egypt?

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Second, why did scholars choose Asherah over other Syrian goddesses, such as Shapshu? Third, why must three names on one stele necessarily refer to the depiction of three separate goddesses, rather than a hypostatization of the three into one? Merlo points out that the distinctive Palestinian features of Qudshu-type images are nudity, frontal representation, and association with plants. “Other elements, such as the lion on which the goddess may stand…are not distinctive” (2010, 2). Taken together, nudity and the association with plants emphasizes fertility and vitality—which are not suf�cient to identify these images with Asherah. In short, if the connection between Asherah and Qudshu is proven speculative, then the other Qudshu-type images are also disquali�ed from being exemplars of Asherah iconography. Such a dis-af�liation of Asherah with Qudshu-type materials also serves to weaken Asherah’s associations with lions and snakes, as well as her speci�c connection to the Ta�anach cult stand. Potnia Theron Ivory About Asherah, Cornelius writes: “Finding clearly identi�able representations of the goddess Asherah has been like looking for a needle in a haystack. This is because there is not one visual representation… with her name on it…. One would expect a senior seated lady dressed in a long robe blessing the gods and people” (2004, 32). If any artifact currently available is a candidate for identi�cation with Asherah, Cornelius identi�es the Potnia Theron (�����) ivory to be that image, in which a woman is portrayed feeding two goats. Here, it is the �gure’s presumed appearance as a seated “senior lady” that Cornelius �nds convincing, in light of the Ugaritic materials’ presentation of Athirat as the pantheon’s chief goddess. Cornelius notes that the woman in the ivory is seated and robed, a stance that seems to re�ect a position of power that would be�t Athirat’s place in the pantheon; he contrasts the ivory with the young goddesses portrayed in Qudshu stelae (2004, 100). Cornelius does not de�ne that which constitutes “youth” in the iconography of SyroPalestinian goddesses, though perhaps it has something to do with a more slender frame. Whether this assumption is consistent with ancient Near Eastern conceptions of youth, or instead reveals a contemporary bias about the iconography of youth and maturity, in which female youth is idealized as slender, is a question that deserves further consideration. I do question Cornelius’s willingness to consider Asherah for the Potnia Theron ivory, since nowhere is Asherah associated with animals, and neither is Athirat, for that matter. In fact, Anat is the one who “destroys and protects animals” in the Ugaritic texts (2004, 33–34), and 1

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Qudshu is frequently titled “mistress of the animals.” Cornelius points out that Qudshu is generally portrayed as holding or touching animals, and not feeding them, as in the Potnia Theron ivory, so an identi�cation with Qudshu is not without its problems. However, the evidence for an identi�cation with Athirat or Asherah is also mixed at best.

Figure 2. Potnia Theron ivory. Raised relief on ivory box cover. Tomb III, Minet el-Beida. fourteenth century B.C.E. Louvre AO 11.601. After Cornelius 2004, pl. 2.7. Used with permission.

Judean Pillar Figurines In Merlo’s dictionary entry for “Asherah” in the electronic, prepublication version of Iconography of Deities and Demons (2010), he surveys the iconographic data usually attributed to Asherah, rating its accuracy as probable, uncertain, or unlikely. Of the Judean Pillar Figurines (see �����), Merlo writes: The[ir] features [i.e., prominent breasts] are not strictly typical of a particular female deity but could represent several among the numerous Near Eastern goddesses…. As the pillar �gurine is typical for 8th–7th cent. Judah, we should search for its identi�cation among goddesses worshipped in this region and period. There is no doubt that in these centuries the major female deity in Judah was A[sherah.] If a deity at all, the Judean pillar �gurines thus probably represent A[sherah]. (emphasis mine)

Except for the case of these �gurines, Merlo is reluctant to attribute certainty to any other possible iconographic portrayal of Asherah. Raz Kletter comes to similar conclusions, arguing that Asherah is the most likely identi�cation for these �gurines, while making clear that such an

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identi�cation “seems very probable, but is not proven and should not be taken for granted” (Kletter 1996, 81). Kletter and Merlo’s opinions about the identity of these �gurines are rooted in their con�dence that Asherah was a goddess in Judah. Yet, what if this assumption is less than wellfounded? In that case, these pillar �gurines would no longer be “probable” iconographic evidence for Asherah but would be demoted to “uncertain” at the very least. Kletter seems to make an allowance for this, stating that his identi�cation of the JPFs “is based on the Biblical sources (together with the Kh. el-Kom and Kuntillet �Ajrud inscriptions) or, to be more correct, on a certain interpretation of these sources (e.g., in rejecting the ‘Asherim’ of the Chronicler)” (Kletter 1996, 81).

Figure 3. Judean Pillar Figurines (Iron Age II), found at Lachish, Jerusalem, and Beersheba, respectively. After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 326, �g. 321a-c. Used with permission.

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Merlo and Kletter are not alone in their assessment that these �gurines represent deities; their claims are quite measured when compared with the judgment of William Dever, who is unabashed in his conviction that the �gurines portray Asherah (2005, 58, 189). Hadley also cautiously suggests that these images could be copies of the Asherah poles which were used in the cult (2000, 196–205). Keel and Uehlinger argue that the pillar �gurines found in Judah may be identi�ed with Asherah, though they do not identify them with the ����� or ����� of the biblical texts (1998, 323–49). Elizabeth Bloch-Smith has suggested that the �gurines’ pillared bases are meant to echo the tree motif so often associated with goddesses, or a wooden pole (1992, 99), though Kletter argues that the bases do not resemble trees, and were purely functional, to make the �gurines stable (1996, 77). P. R. S. Moorey calls into question such con�dent treatments of these �gurines. Against Kletter, who argues that the �gurines are likely to represent the same �gure (probably Asherah), and to be imbued with the same function (probably magical) (1996, 79–81), Moorey argues for the potential multiplicity of function and identity. Since the female �gurines are very often found with male horse-and-rider counterparts, Moorey suggests that “plausible arguments may be advanced for regarding both as votive �gurines in human form rather than as anthropomorphic images of deities” (2003, 63). Such an interpretation makes sense, he argues, within the “wider Near Eastern repertoire of terracottas in the mature Iron Age”—for example, a “remarkable assemblage” of male and female �gurines have been recovered from the Cypriot sanctuary of Apollo at Kourion (2003, 63). Furthermore: “Until both male and female images may be convincingly accommodated amongst the deities of early Israelite religion, this is arguably the more probable identity for them” (2003, 63). Moorey’s point is further supported by the existence of terracotta animal �gurines, as well as miniature clay models representing furniture—which suggests a domestic context. Moorey (along with Zevit 2001, 271; but contra Kletter 1996, 81) sees the frequent breakage of these �gurines as probably deliberate, linked to a method of disposal in order “to eliminate magical powers with which they had been endowed” after use (2003, 67). In the end, Moorey calls for a further interrogation of the assumption that the JPFs represent deities. So far, Asherah has lived up to her elusive iconographic reputation. What of the textual evidence? Will we �nd Asherah more readily if we look to the Ugaritic materials, the Hebrew Bible, and the two most relevant inscriptions?

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Athirat in Ugaritic Literature The Ugaritic material offers a �eshed-out portrayal of Athirat unmatched by the Hebrew Bible’s presentation of Asherah—and yet, the �gures are often identi�ed with one another. Judith Hadley (2000, 5) writes: “The most natural assumption is that Hebrew Asherah can be identi�ed with Ugaritic Athirat, and that both are closely related to Amorite Ašratum.”5 The justi�cation for this identi�cation is, �rst of all, linguistic (Hadley 2000, 49): “It is commonly accepted that �šrh is the Hebrew form of the Ugaritic �atrt.”6 However, when it comes to Athirat as a character in Ugaritic mythic literature, scholars disagree about whether her likeness to Asherah is strong or slight. The question at hand is this: If we were to encounter Athirat under any other name, would we think to associate her with what we know of Asherah from other sources? In the Ugaritic mythological literature, Athirat is the chief goddess of the pantheon and perhaps also the consort of El.7 The goddess appears in the Baal cycle (KTU 1.1–6) and the Kirta epic (KTU 1.14–16). In the Baal cycle, Athirat is described as qnyt �ilm, translated by Hadley (2000, 39–40) as “creatress (or perhaps ‘mistress’) of the gods,” and probably 5. K. H. Bernhardt (1967, 164–74) refutes this claim, citing that the similarities of the goddesses do not extend beyond their shared name. Athirat is a mother goddess and a sea goddess; Asherah is a goddess of vegetation, fertility, and love. Athirat is the consort of El, while Asherah is most often presented with Baal. Hadley (2000, 9) in turn refutes his claims, offering possibilities for a broader base of shared characteristics. At the same time, Hadley would allow for changes to take place over time and across cultures: “it is not unreasonable to assume that a deity will take over speci�c needs in the local pantheon” (2000, 9). Indeed, Hadley argues that if Athirat has her roots in Ašratum, as Hadley suspects, then her possible association with the sea would not usurp her original association with the Amorite steppe of the Mesopotamian �ood plains, echoed in references to “the �eld(s) of Athirat” in the story of Shachar and Shalim (2000, 45). Therefore, the later Semitic appropriation of Asherah as an inland goddess could be read as a re-emphasis of an original characteristic of the goddess, while the maritime associations of Ugarit are a true innovation. 6. Hadley (2000, 49) continues: “The transformation of the early ‘th’ (�) to the later ‘sh’ (š) is a well attested change… Similarly, the �nal h is a typical Hebrew feminine singular suf�x, and is to be considered a normal adaptation of the Ugaritic feminine name.” 7. From the Ugaritic presentation of Baal jockeying for a higher position, combined with Hittite and biblical pairings of Asherah with Baal, some argue that Asherah can be seen to be “losing her association with the supreme god and transferring her allegiance to Baal” throughout the Ugaritic literature (Hadley 2000, 53). 1

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also as �um �il[m], “mother of the god(s).”8 Athirat’s relationship with El is complex: on the one hand, El requests that Athirat choose a son to take Baal’s place after Mot defeats him; however, El retains veto power, which he invokes when displeased with Athirat’s choice. Athirat is also portrayed as being in con�ict with Baal (Hadley 2000, 39). Also at least partially rooted in the Baal cycle is Athirat’s association with the sea: �rst, she is called rbt �art ym, “Lady Athirat of the Sea” (Hadley 2000, 39); second, when Baal and Anat seek her out, “they �nd her by the sea, spinning and laundering”; third, Athirat’s servant is a �sherman; fourth, “the sea itself (Yam) is called El’s darling…and so it is not surprising to discover that the consort of El, Athirat, has the honor of tending El’s beloved domain, the sea” (Hadley 2000, 40–41). As a character in the epic of Kirta, Athirat is invoked primarily with regard to the king’s need for progeny. Indeed, Wiggins (2007, 27) notes that here, as in other Ugaritic myths, the goddess “is associated with the procuring of a royal heir. It is speci�cally Athirat who was implored, although El appeared to Keret in a dream and gave him the instructions which he needed.” The role of the goddess deepens after Kirta reneges on a vow he makes to “Athirat of Tyre and Elat of Sidon.”9 His failure evokes Athirat’s rage: as a result, the king’s health fails, along with the fertility of the land (until El sets both right again). Additionally, Athirat is presented, along with Anat, as a goddess who will suckle one of the eight sons which El promises the heirless Kirta: indeed, Athirat and another goddess are described as mšnq[t �ilm], “wet nurses of the gods,” a title which mirrors Athirat’s suckling of the “gracious gods” in another text from Ugarit (KTU 1.23). This association of Athirat with progeny— both human and divine—is consistent with her portrayal in KTU 1.14– 16. Additionally, in a contested translation of KTU 1.1, Wiggins (2007, 32) �nds Athirat to be present at the re-naming of Yam—echoing her frequent association with the sea in the Baal Cycle and elsewhere in the Kirta epic. Athirat’s “name occurs in parallel with the word ‘woman’ ” (1.3 I.14–15)—this, combined with her association with the spindle, leads Wiggins (2007, 36–37; 71) to state that, though a goddess, Athirat is not devoid of characteristics attributed to earthly women of the time 8. Hadley (2000, 32) notes that in the �rst instance, Ahlström prefers the translation “ruler of the gods”; the second instance is dubious because the antecedent deity is unnamed. Maier (1986, 32) agrees with the characterization of Athirat as creator/mother goddess, partnered with the chief god. 9. Elat—which can mean simply “goddess”—sometimes refers to Athirat, in which case this would be an example of synonymous parallelism; here, however, Hadley (2000, 42) argues that Elat refers to Anat.

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period, such as engaging in domestic tasks or being excluded from male feasts. Perhaps most importantly, Athirat is presented, both here and in the Baal cycle, as a goddess in especially close relationship not only with Yam, but also with El. Indeed, Athirat “is the proper means by which to approach El, and she is able to change his mind” (Wiggins 2007, 72).10 In conclusion, Athirat is a goddess with in�uence over El. Though not a “universal” mother goddess, she is presented as mother of the gods; though her marital status is not speci�cally delineated, she is called rabbatu—“Queen Mother.” She also relates to other deities, namely, Baal (with whom she has a sometimes antagonistic relationship); Anat (with whom she may sometimes be placed in parallel); and Yam (to whom she surely relates, though the nature of their relationship remains vague). Asherah of the Hebrew Bible Athirat of Ugarit has little in common with Asherah as we meet her in the Hebrew Bible. In about three-quarters of the references to Asherah, it seems clear that a cult object, rather than a goddess, is being described. As Hadley (2000, 54) writes: [T]he word “Asherah” occurs forty times in nine different books of the Hebrew Bible. In eighteen occurrences the word is in its feminine singular form ��š�r�h… The masculine plural occurs in nineteen verses: thirteen times in its pure form ��š�rîm…and six times with suf�xes… The remaining three verses use the feminine plural ��š�rôt.

In all but a handful of passages,11 the various forms of the word “asherah” are either placed in a context suggestive of “some sort of humanly made, carved wooden object” (the word is paired either with verbs of cutting, burning, creating, pulling down, plucking up, or planting) or with nouns like “altar” or “image” (Hadley 2000, 54–55). According to Wiggins 10. Wiggins (2007, 89–90) writes that several characteristics attributed to Athirat by the Elimelek corpus are con�rmed in a reading of other texts from Ugarit, including ritual texts and deity lists, especially her “role as mother of the gods” evidenced by her suckling of divine beings. Maier (1986, 41) agrees with Wiggins that the chief (and only conclusive) thing one learns about Athirat vis-à-vis the deity lists is that she “was an important goddess, who continued to be worshipped until the destruction of Ugarit.” 11. For example, 1 Kgs 15:13; 18:19; 2 Chr 15:16; and possibly 2 Kgs 13:6 and Judg 3:7. See Hadley 2000, 55. Except for 2 Chr 15:16 and Judg 3:7, these do not coincide with the occurrences of “asherah” with a de�nite article (and in the case of Chronicles, Hadley [2000, 60] notes that the word “has the preposition l attached, and so only a question of pointing is involved”). 1

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(2007, 243–45), only 10 of the 40 references to “asherah[s]” associate the term with “rival cults” rather than “cultic paraphernalia.” Of the 30 references which refer to a cultic object, 19 “utilize verbs which are appropriately applied to wooden objects”; two af�liate the asherah with wood “by use of a noun associated with trees”; and 17 do not include any indication of the material out of which asherahs were made. In at least 9 texts from the Hebrew Bible, the nature of the word “asherah” is a matter of some debate. In Judg 3:7, the people are said to “serve” (����) ����� and �����.12 In 1 Kgs 15:13 and 2 Chr 15:16, Asa’s (grand)mother is removed from power when she makes a ����� for the asherah, which Asa “cuts down” and destroys (though no such action is taken against the asherah her/itself).13 In 2 Kgs 13:6, we are told that the asherah “still stood” in Samaria, and in 2 Kgs 21:7, Manasseh places a ��� of the asherah in the temple; the de�nite article is employed in both places.14 In 2 Kgs 23:7 and 2 Chr 34:3, Josiah “purged the land” of the asherahs, while the children of Judah remember asherahs in Jer 17:2. In 1 Kgs 18:19, Elijah competes with 450 prophets of Baal and 400 prophets of Asherah; both divine names are in the singular, and this appears to be the one incontrovertible biblical reference to Asherah as a goddess. It is possible, however, that this reference is a later addition or a 12. Hadley (2000, 68) considers this a Deuteronomistic trope, which recalls several passages in which Ashtaroth (rather than �����, as here) are paired with Baalim as the objects of the Israelites’ worship. She explains the de�nite, plural nature of ����� as either a “sympathetic pairing” with ����� or an indication that “by the time dtr was writing, the distinction between the goddess (or god) and her cultic paraphernalia had become obscured.” John Day (2002, 44–45) believes �����, as the “lectio dif�cilior,” to be the original reading (against the Peshitta, the Vulgate, the Septuagint, and the Targum); however, even if the reading is not original, he asserts that ����� refers here to the goddess. Wiggins (2007, 111), who �nds it probable that ����� is a masked reference to Phoenician Astarte, believes these plural categories to refer to “classes of deities” rather than “an individual god and goddess.” 13. Since “there is no mention of the removal of the asherah, scholars have interpreted asherah here to refer to the goddess” (Hadley 2000, 64). Day (2002, 44) notes that “the only alternative would be to suppose that the text was referring to an idolatrous object made for another idolatrous object, which does not seem very plausible.” However, in Smith’s treatment of 2 Kgs 23:4 (2002, 128)—which similarly speaks of vessels offered to the asherah—he argues that such a ritual action is not only possible, but also likely; he bases this, in part, on the way the asherah of the Jerusalem temple was given gifts in v. 7 of the same chapter. 14. Hadley (2000, 71–73) notes that the parallel account in Chronicles portrays Manasseh as setting up ���� instead: derived from Phoenician, this word, like ���, refers to a kind of image, perhaps anthropomorphic.

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gloss, especially considering that only the prophets of Baal are slaughtered by the prophets of Yahweh in 18:40, while Asherah’s prophets disappear from the text. Mark Smith (2002, 127) calls 1 Kgs 18:19 “a historically implausible reference to Asherah” and “a gloss perhaps belong[ing] to the seventh or sixth century.” Though the text appears to refer to Asherah as a goddess, Smith reads it as a retrojection onto earlier history, possibly “the product of a polemical misidenti�cation with Astarte” (Smith 2002, xxxiii).15 What is one to make of the biblical record when it comes to Asherah? Hadley argues that the Bible, together with the Ugaritic and inscriptional data, provides evidence that Asherah, though worshipped alongside Yahweh in ancient contexts, “slowly evolved into becoming merely a wooden cultic symbol” (2000, 83).16 Day (2002, 46) agrees, attributing the lack of references to “asherah” in Chronicles not to deliberate ideological omissions, but rather to the fact that “by the time the Chronicler was writing, c. 300 BCE, awareness of a goddess Asherah had simply faded away from the Jewish consciousness.” (However, whereas Hadley believes the transition from goddess to cult object is already evidenced in the Dtr materials, Day disagrees.) Wiggins (2007, 19), in a helpful summary on the Dtr perspective, writes: 15. Smith elaborates: “In other words, the symbol may have been misconstrued to pertain to some goddess because later tradents who added the reference to a putative Phoenician Asherah to 1 Kings 18:19 con�ated the Phoenician Astarte (there is no Phoenician Asherah attested) with the name of the symbol and assumed that it represented a goddess named Asherah (this explanation would comport with the textual variations between Asherah and Astarte)” (2002, xxxiii). Other scholars disagree. Day (2002, 44) believes the reference to Asherah to be an addition that, because of its parallel position to the name of Baal, “indubitably” refers to the goddess: “[I]t is clear that whoever added the reference to the prophets of Asherah to the text, presumably in the postexilic period, must have understood Asherah to be a divine name, which implies continued awareness of this goddess amongst the Jews at this relatively late date. This does not make sense unless Asherah had been worshipped as a goddess in ancient Israel.” For Wiggins (2007, 111), “asherah” is not an addition here, but he does consider it a reference to the goddess. 16. The fact that later versions (the LXX, the Peshitta) replace occurrences of the word “asherah” with words like “grove” or “image” supports this view (Hadley 2000, 83). However, Hadley’s claim raises the fundamental question: Why would a goddess evolve into a pole in the �rst place? Also, Hadley argues that this later, nonanthropomorphic interpretation of Asherah was enduring: a Sidonian coin from the third century C.E. portrays twigs that are “exactly the same as those on the Late Bronze Age pendants which portray a naked goddess with a twig over her pubic region.” However, the assumption that twigs are necessarily to be associated with Asherah is challenged by scholars such as Wiggins (2007), Cornelius (2004), Merlo (2007), and Keel and Uehlinger (1998). 1

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[T]he deuteronomists refer to the cultic object in both the feminine singular and masculine plural forms. The distribution of these forms appears to concur with a “double redaction” of the deuteronomistic writings, in which pre-exilic references to the asherah largely utilize the feminine singular. The exilic references, except when referring to a single, speci�c asherah, generally utilize the masculine plural. This perhaps points to an “ironic” masking of the goddess’s name, by which the cultic object was called.

Save a handful of references that might refer to an actual goddess, Wiggins agrees with Hadley that most biblical references to Asherah describe a cult object (be it a tree, stand, or image). Hadley takes their common argument one step further, asserting that the aforementioned cult objects eventually lost all association with Asherah in favor of complete af�liation with Yahweh. Day generally agrees with both Wiggins and Hadley, though he is quicker to advocate that Asherah the goddess is certainly present in the handful of texts in question. Smith (2002, 92–93) is the least optimistic of all when considering what we can know about the worship of Asherah among Israelites, as is apparent in his reading of 1 Kgs 18:9. It is striking that, for Smith, the best referent for Asherah in the Hebrew Bible occurs in Gen 49, a passage that does not even mention her by name (see n. 1). Asherah in Epigraphy Scholars exploring Asherah’s place in an Israelite pantheon invariably read the textual evidence in light of the �nds at Khirbet el-Qom and Kuntillet �Ajrud. Inscription number three from Khirbet el-Qom17 was “chiseled out from a pillar in a burial cave” (Hadley 2000, 84). The inscription has been paleographically dated to 750 B.C.E., and is famously dif�cult to read on account of its rough, cracked, and scratched writing surface, the fact that several letters have been gouged out while others are barely visible, and the “ghost images” resulting from retracing portions of the text (Hadley 2000, 85). As a result, the inscription has been translated in a variety of ways; we will focus on a few possibilities for the third line, which mentions the word “asherah” in conjunction with Yahweh. Hadley (2000, 100) reads the line as wm�ryh l�šrth hwš�lh, to be translated either “for from his enemies, by his asherah, he has saved him” or (starting with the previous line) “Blessed by Uriyahu by Yahweh, for 17. Identi�ed with biblical Makkedah, 12km west of Hebron and 11km southeast of Lachish (Hadley 2000, 83).

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from his enemies, by his asherah, he has saved him.” The problematic l�šrth is viewed by most scholars as a form of “asherah.” The initial lamed is taken to be vocative, emphatic, causal, or instrumental. The third radical t is explained by some, together with the �nal h, as a double feminization, vocalized “Asherata,” and interpreted as an alternative form of “Asherah” (Zevit 2001, 363). Others take the word as a (proper) noun with a third-person masculine singular suf�x. The crux is whether the noun is permitted to be proper if it is suf�xed: though this is attested once in Ugaritic,18 in Hebrew it would be a �rst. Some scholars, convinced by the Ugaritic parallel, interpret this as “his Asherah” (thus, the consort of Yahweh); others—among them Hadley (2000), A�ituv, Eshel, and Meshel (2012), and Keel and Uehlinger (1998)—believe such grammatical rule-bending to be unwarranted, and regard the more obvious interpretation to be the “quite well-known” practice of “mentioning sacred cultic objects together with a deity when conferring a blessing or oath” (A�ituv, Eshel, and Meshel 2012, 132)—in other words, “asherah” here is a cultic object associated with Yahweh. At Kuntillet �Ajrud,19 two pithoi in particular have been consistently af�liated with Asherah. Pithos A (�����) depicts two standing �gures and a seated �gure playing the lyre. The two standing �gures are often thought to represent Bes, which is “the name usually given to a group of Egyptian dwarf gods” (Beck 2002, 137) commonly portrayed with “grotesque facial features” and “bandy legs” (Beck 2002, 126). Though some scholars take this particular pair of Bes �gures to represent a god and goddess couple, Beck �nds this “doubtful,” as is the assumption that “they were drawn by the same painter” (Beck 2002, 126)—though Beck does believe that the lyre player was drawn by the same person who drew the nearest Bes �gure. Beck regards this series of �gures to be “spontaneous” drawings, in the spirit of graf�ti, which exhibit in�uence from Phoenician and North Syrian iconography as well as the “‘desert art’ of Arabia and the Negev as re�ected in the decorated ‘Midianite’ pottery” (Beck 2002, 132). The gender of the Bes �gures is debated, though Hadley and Beck agree that they are probably both male. 18. KTU 1.43.13, l�nth, “to his Anat” (Binger 1997, 106). 19. In northern Sinai, about 50km south of Kadesh-barnea. At Kuntillet �Ajrud, Beck (2002, 161) says we are encountering a “caravan stop” which had a “religious function”—perhaps a “wayside shrine for travelers” or “a station on a pilgrim’s route” or even “a border outpost inhabited by priests.” Hadley (2000, 155), noting that the inscriptions and images “are evidently the work of different people,” identi�es Kuntillet �Ajrud as “a caravanserai, where travelers would stop and seek shelter” and says that “the site need not be intended as a religious shrine.” 1

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Figure 4. Drawings on Pithos A from Kuntillet �Ajrud. Eighth century B.C.E. Drawings of the left side (motifs A-H) and of the right side (motifs V-X). After Meshel, A�ituv, and Freud 2012, �gs. 6.4 and 6.4a. Used with kind permission of Ze�ev Meshel.

Near this scene—in fact, partially written on top of it—is an inscription that mentions both Yahweh and Asherah. This inscription lacks the material dif�culties of the Khirbet el-Qom inscription, and is thus somewhat easily interpreted to read: “X says: Say to Yehal[lel�el] and to Yo�asah and [to Z]: I bless you by Yahweh of Samaria and by his asherah” (Hadley 2000, 121). The question of whether “his asherah” can refer, grammatically, to the goddess herself, raises the same issue as before. Some scholars endeavor to link the inscription with the pithos, by claiming that either Asherah or Yahweh (or both) are depicted in the scene. For example, Dever has argued that the lyre player is a priestess or a deity, possibly even Asherah herself (1984, 22–25); others argue that, in addition, one of the standing Bes �gures is a portrayal of Yahweh (for references, see Hadley 2000, 149). Hadley is not convinced by these arguments, for the following reasons: First, the inscription is etched atop the images, and may mar access to them rather than serve as their captions—though it must be noted that sometimes captions are written on top of objects (e.g., Neo-Assyrian orthostats of lions and bulls). Second, two additional inscriptions mentioning Yahweh and Asherah appear on Pithos B, but no one has yet insisted that they must relate to

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Pithos B’s images. Third, the inscriptions themselves were penned in a much lighter hand than the one that created the images. Fourth, why argue that one of the �gures is Yahweh, when each is so clearly Bes? Why argue that Asherah is a lyre player, if no other image, inscription, or text associates her with music (Hadley 2000, 149)? In the end, Hadley does believe that Asherah is depicted on Pithos A—just not as one of the �gures described above: rather, she is represented “by her symbol of a tree, and not as a goddess” (2000, 154). Here, she is referring to another image on Pithos A, which portrays two ibexes �anking a tree, placed above a striding lion. This arrangement recalls other ancient Near Eastern images of ibexes (or gods) �anking trees (or goddesses) above lions. Hadley (2000, 154; also see Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 232–40) notes that “the lion here has its tail hanging down, and so is functioning as an animal for carrying an image of the deity, as opposed to a ‘guarding’ animal, which would be portrayed with its tail up and/or roaring.” Beck (2002, 109) eschews this interpretation: “Although at �Ajrud this tree…may have been related to various aspects of fertility, it is doubtful if these scenes were connected to any particular deity.” Keel and Uehlinger (1998, 234) do not believe that the tree here “ful�lls [its] former ‘feminine’ function, derived originally from a link with the goddess, to provide nurture and substance for life.” Rather, they regard it as an example of a “sexually undifferentiated cultic symbol that can be assigned also to a male deity. It is possible that ‘Yahweh’s asherah’ ought not be explained in any way other than in connection with this tree.” They continue: “Yahweh’s asherah does not have equal rank with Yahweh but is rather a mediating entity that brings his blessing and is conceived in the mind in the shape of a stylized tree that was thus subordinate to Yahweh” (1998, 237, emphasis theirs). I would raise a further question: By what warrant do we associate a goddess named Asherah with stylized trees in general, let alone this particular stylized tree? If Bes �gures are said to be found at Kuntillet �Ajrud (without being mentioned in the inscription), why not Qudshu as well, whose iconography has much in common with that of the �Ajrud tree? Further Directions In terms of Asherah, where do these considerations of iconography, textual studies, and epigraphy leave us? Those who identify the pillar �gurines with Asherah invoke the purported certainty that Asherah was 1

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worshipped in ancient Israel. However, is it clear from any of our sources that Asherah/the asherah was a full-�edged goddess at all? The evidence thus far is inconclusive, not only regarding whether Asherah was worshipped in Israel, but also regarding whether Asherah the goddess, as differentiated from Athirat of Ugaritic myth, can be said to exist at all. The Athirat we know from the Ugaritic literature is a high goddess, maternal, the one to whom kings make vows, associated with Yam, and a rival to Baal. This depiction does not bring to mind any of the Hebrew Bible’s references to Asherah/the asherah, but it could, with a little imagination, remind us of the character of Yahweh. The idea that Yahweh in the Hebrew Bible takes on the characteristics of other ancient Near Eastern deities is advocated by Patrick Miller (2000), Mark Smith (2002), Brent Strawn (2009), and Christoph Levin (2012). Other goddesses may be present in the Israelite god as well, however veiled vis-à-vis their agglomeration onto Yahweh. Even a cursory consideration of Cornelius’s characteristics for these goddesses reveals how each could be said to be taken up into Yahweh’s identity: like Anat, Yahweh is sometimes portrayed armed for battle, on a throne, before worshippers, or associated with royal imagery (i.e., Anat’s pharaoh); in Ps 68:24, there are hints of Anat from KTU 1.3 II.3–30 in Yahweh’s speech, in which he promises his people that he will allow them to “wade their feet through blood”—presumably that of their enemies. Astarte too is portrayed as ready for battle and in the company of rulers and gods, as well as on horseback—perhaps like Yahweh, rider of the highest heaven, in Ps 68:34. Brent Strawn has pointed out how Yahweh’s leonine form is partially derived from the Mesopotamian goddess Ishtar and the Egyptian Sekhmet (2009, 51–85). Assuming that Yahweh can be seen as taking up within himself characteristics of any number of goddesses, then perhaps it would also make sense for the word asherah or the asherahs, as evoked throughout the Hebrew Bible, to offer windows onto the presence of a plethora of ancient goddesses. Virtually none of Athirat’s characteristics as displayed in the Ugaritic literature resonate with Asherah in the Hebrew; this, combined with the fact that Asherah’s iconography is elusive, may open the door for Asherah/the asherahs in the Hebrew Bible to refer sometimes, or even usually, to someone or something beyond herself/themselves. Indeed, in 75% of the cases in which the word “asherah” is used, we already know this to be the case, as “asherah” refers not to a goddess, but to an object. If Hadley is correct, and worship of Asherah may have happened only in the most ancient of Israelite societies, then in the Bible, the proper name Asherah could be invoked as a kind of scapegoat—a remote,

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ancient deity on whom to blame the presence or popularity of foreign goddess cults. In terms of both geography and chronology, it would have been possible or even likely20 that some Israelites worshipped Astarte. Could “Asherah” not be a code name for this tendency, a cipher? If Asherah herself no longer held sway among the Israelites during the biblical period—if, in fact, knowledge of her was dying out as the latest texts of the Hebrew Bible were being penned—then perhaps it makes sense that she, an antiquated goddess, would be chosen as a less direct stand-in for the goddesses that some Israelites actually worshipped. By issuing polemics against “Asherah,” the biblical authors may have been rhetorically divesting the contemporary goddess cults of their power by af�liating them with an old, dead, and perhaps even partially �ctionalized religion. As mentioned earlier, Smith has already argued that this is the case with 1 Kgs 18:19 (2002, xxxiii). Therefore, in the instances in the Hebrew Bible in which the word “Asherah” does not refer to a cult object, it may instead function to mask the presence of another goddess. Conclusion In “Can a Sexist Model Liberate Us?” Jo Ann Hackett encourages those who study ancient Near Eastern goddesses to eschew the sexist categories by which modern scholars have often discussed deities. Relegated to the traditional female roles of sex and motherhood, the goddesses, when analyzed in this light, lose their power to threaten the “status quo” of both palace and pantheon. Hackett urges us: “If you want to celebrate ancient female divine power, do it, but �rst �nd out what it was” (1989, 76). It is in this spirit that I propose that the cult of Asherah is perhaps not all that scholars have chalked it up to be. In the end, I am not sure that the iconographic, epigraphic, and textual evidence—when taken together—can be fashioned into a genuine throne for our Asherah. If Asherah did exist as a goddess, then I wonder if her presence was more multivalent than many have suspected: instead of one goddess for Israel and one consort for Yahweh, Asherah may have been standing in for a whole host of goddesses, whose presence can be sensed in the biblical text in much the same way as can the voices of human women: in hints and whispers, and by reading between the lines.

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20. For example, see Smith 2002, 51, 111, 182.

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Bibliography� A�ituv, S., E. Eshel, and Z. Meshel. 2012. The Inscriptions. Pages 73–142 in Kuntillet �Ajrud (Horvat Teman): An Iron Age II Religious Site on the Judah-Sinai Border. Edited by Z. Meshel. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Beck, P. 2002. Imagery and Representation: Studies in the Art and Iconography of Ancient Palestine: Collected Articles. TAOP 3. Tel Aviv: Emery & Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Bernhardt, K.-H. 1967. Aschera in Ugarit und im Alten Testament. MIOF 13:164–74. Binger, T. 1997. Asherah: Goddesses in Ugarit, Israel and the Old Testament. JSOTSup 232. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Academic. Bloch-Smith, E. 1992. Judahite Burial Practices and Beliefs About the Dead. JSOTSup 123. JSOT/ASOR MS 7. Shef�eld: JSOT. Cornelius, I. 2004. The Many Faces of the Goddess: The Iconography of the SyroPalestinian Goddesses Anat, Astarte, Qedeshet, and Asherah, c. 1500–1000 BCE. OBO 204. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2008a. Anat. In Iconography of Deities and Demons in the Ancient Near East: An Iconographic Dictionary with Special Emphasis on First-Millennium BCE Palestine/Israel. Cited 8 August 2013. Online: http://www.religionswissenschaft. uzh.ch/idd/prepublications/e_idd_anat.pdf. ———. 2008b. Astarte. In Iconography of Deities and Demons in the Ancient Near East: An Iconographic Dictionary with Special Emphasis on First-Millennium BCE Palestine/Israel. Cited 8 August 2013. Online: http://www.religionswissenschaft. uzh.ch/idd/prepublications/e_idd_astarte.pdf. ———. 2010. Qudshu. In Iconography of Deities and Demons in the Ancient Near East: An Iconographic Dictionary with Special Emphasis on First-Millennium BCE Palestine/Israel. Cited 8 August 2013. Online: http://www.religionswissenschaft. uzh.ch/idd/prepublications/e_idd_qudshu.pdf. Cross, F. M. 1973. Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Day, J. 2002. Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses of Canaan. New York: Continuum. Dever, W. 1984. Asherah, Consort of Yahweh? New Evidence from Kuntillet �Ajrud. BASOR 255:21–37. ———. 2005. Did God Have a Wife? Archaeology and Folk Religion in Ancient Israel. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Frevel, C. 1995. Aschera und der Ausschließlichkeitsanspruch YHWHs: Beiträge zu literarischen, religionsgeschichtlichen und ikonographischen Aspekten der Ascheradiskussion. 2 vols. BBB 94/1–2. Weinheim: BELTZ Athenäum. Hackett, J. A. 1989. Can a Sexist Model Liberate Us? Ancient Near Eastern “Fertility” Goddesses. Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 5:65–76. Hadley, J. M. 2000. The Cult of Asherah in Ancient Israel and Judah: Evidence for a Hebrew Goddess. UCOP 57. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger 1998. Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel. Translated by T. H. Trapp. Minneapolis: Fortress. Kletter, R. 1996. The Judean Pillar-Figurines and the Archaeology of Asherah. BAR IS 636. Oxford: Tempus Reparatum. Lahn, K. 2005. Qedeschet. Genese einer Transfergöttheit im ägyptisch-vorderasiatischen Raum. SAK 33:201–37.

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Levin, C. 2012. Integrativer Monotheismus im Alten Testament. ZTK 109:153–75. Maier, W. A. 1986. Ašerah: Extrabiblical Evidence. HSM 37. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Merlo, P. 2010. Asherah. In Iconography of Deities and Demons in the Ancient Near East: An Iconographic Dictionary with Special Emphasis on First-Millennium BCE Palestine/Israel. Cited 8 August 2013. Online: http://www.religionswissenschaft .uzh.ch/idd/prepublications/e_idd_asherah.pdf. Meshel, Z., S. A�ituv, and L. Freud. 2012. Kuntillet �Ajrud (�orvat Teman): An Iron Age II Religious Site on the Judah-Sinai Border. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Miller, P. D. 2000. Israelite Religion and Biblical Theology: Collected Essays. JSOTSup 267. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Academic. Moorey, P. R. S. 2003. Idols of the People: Miniature Images of Clay in the Ancient Near East. Schweich BA. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Olyan, S. M. 1988. Asherah and the Cult of Yahweh in Israel. SBLMS 34. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Smith, M. S. 2002. The Early History of God: Yahweh and the Other Deities in Ancient Israel. BRS. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Strawn, B. 2009. Whence Leonine Yahweh? Iconography and the History of Israelite Religion. Pages 51–85 in Images and Prophecy in the Ancient Eastern Mediterranean. Edited by M. Nissinen and C. E. Carter. FRLANT 233. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Wiggins, S. 2007. A Reassessment of Asherah: With Further Considerations of the Goddess. Piscataway: Gorgias. Zevit, Z. 2001. The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis of Parallactic Approaches. New York: Continuum.

1

THE ICONOGRAPHY OF FEAR: YIR�AT YHWH (���� ����) IN ARTISTIC PERSPECTIVE* Brent A. Strawn

I maintain, in opposition to the widespread prejudice against metaphorical and representational images in modern scienti�c research, that images are among the legitimate systems of signs with which we are provided in order to describe the world. The language in which we speak of the world will never be contained entirely in mathematical formulas, nor will it be contained entirely in words. So long as there is content that cannot be expressed in a univalent form, at every stage of consciousness language will turn to images as an adequate descriptive medium. —Erik Hornung (1982, 258) Do not be like servants who serve the master on condition of receiving a reward, but [be] like servants who serve the master not on condition of receiving a reward. And let the fear of Heaven [���� ����] be upon you. —m. �Abot 1.3 (Neusner 1988, 673). For Othmar Keel, celebrating more than forty years of The Symbolism of the Biblical World * Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature (2008), the Duke University Hebrew Bible Colloquium (2009), and the Scrollery Group at the University of Toronto (2013). I am indebted to the organizers of the latter two events, Stephen B. Chapman and Sarianna Metso, respectively, and thankful for the helpful feedback I received from those present, particularly Erin Darby, Robert D. Holmstedt, Anathea Portier-Young, and Colleen Shantz. I also thank the editors of the present volume, Joel M. LeMon and Izaak J. de Hulster, for their assistance, support, and patience. I am also grateful to Gay Robins for discussing some �ne points of the Egyptian materials with me, to Thomas Staubli for reading an earlier draft, and to Aubrey Buster for her thoughtful engagement which greatly helped the argument. The topic treated here was promised in an earlier study (Strawn 2005b, esp. 634–38). I dedicate the present essay to my friend and teacher from afar, Othmar Keel, celebrating the forty-plus anniversary of his pioneering work, Die Welt der altorientalischen Bildsymbolik und das Alte Testament: Am Beispiel der Psalmen (Keel 1996 [1972]; English translation 1997a). Along with so many others, I am forever indebted to Keel for opening my eyes to how art and image may inform biblical interpretation.

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1. Introduction The root ��� (“to fear”), not to mention the phrase ���� ���� (“fear of YHWH/the LORD”), is something of a problem. What does the root ��� mean, especially when combined in nominal form with the divine name (DN) YHWH?1 And does it mean differently—not only in different texts but in different time periods? Writing about the fear of God in Qoheleth, for example, Elias Bickerman stated memorably that ��� in that late biblical book means “to be on guard against Elohim” (1967, 149). Others, however, deem the fear of God in Ecclesiastes (and elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible) to be far “weaker” than that, meaning little more than “reverence,” “respect,” or even just (!) “religion.” 2 It is not only scholars who wonder about ���; contemporary readers of the Bible, too, are often �ummoxed by ���. Why, such readers often ask, is the word “fear” so often used for obedience to and worship of God (cf. Gruber 1990, 411; Egger-Wenzel 2005, 211–12, 226; Castelo 2008)? This question is not simply a matter of translation (though it may be that as well), because, as is well known, ��� is used to describe real, visceral terror (e.g., Exod 14:10; Deut 2:4, 25; 7:19; 1 Sam 7:7; Jer 41:18; Jonah 1:10; cf. “fear of the sword” in Jer 42:1; Ezek 11:8) as well as religious fear (“the fear of the LORD”).3 The question regarding the meaning and use of ��� has many facets, then, and, though it may be most frequently raised in certain religious contexts nowadays, it is no less an ancient question insofar as it relates to the history of religion.4 What might explain the “dual use” of ��� as (1) a term appropriate for “real” fear as well as (2) an accurate description for

1. I take ��� + ���� to be semantically identical to ��� + ��/�����/�����/���/���� (see Fuhs 1990, 296; Stähli 1997, 576). What is at issue is not the speci�c DN used, but the action of fearing the Deity, however the latter is named or called. A similar situation obtains in the comparative data. 2. Pfeiffer 1955, 41; cf. similar remarks in Van Pelt and Kaiser 1997, 528–29; Stähli 1997, 571, 573, 576–77; Fuhs 1990, 297–98, 303, 309; Crenshaw 1987, 156; Becker 1965, 75; Lee 2005, 10; Büchler 1967, 140–50; Ringgren 1966, 127; and Wanke 1974. 3. The latter is predominant, comprising 80% of all instances (Fuhs 1990, 296). Cf. Clines 2003, 60. 4. Eichrodt (1967, 269) believes that fear of the divine is a universal element in all religions. Overall, his understanding owes much to Otto (1950 [1923]), as do many other treatments of fear in the Hebrew Bible and beyond (e.g., Fuhs 1990; Stähli 1997; Van Pelt and Kaiser 1997, 528–29; Jacobsen 1970, 39–46). For Otto, see further Raphael 1997.

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the proper response to, and correct behavior toward, God?5 And then there is the matter of the possible combination of these two uses: is there any distinction between them or is the second just a subcategory of the �rst? For reasons that will become clear below, it is instructive to note that the same issues are found in the use of the ���-word group in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Strawn 2013a). Here, too, the two senses of ���—“real fear” and “religious fear”—are clearly attested. In terms of real fear, � � �

11QT 62.3 describes a man who is afraid and cowardly (���� ���� ���) before a battle, in a passage that is clearly indebted to Deut 20:8; 1QpHab 3.2–3 describes the Kittim as “terrible and dreadful” (����� ����; glossed in 3.4 as \�/���� ����, “their fear and dread”); and, according to 4Q382 i 3, Elijah is described as afraid of (�� + ���) Ahab and Jezebel.

Religious fear is also found at Qumran, and it is by far the most frequent type encountered. In 1QpHab 6.4–5, the Kittim are said to “fear,” which is to say worship, their own weapons (����� ��� ������� ����). Even more to the point are those passages that refer to worshippers as “Godfearers” (e.g., 1QSb 1.1; 4Q88 9.14; 11Q19 57.8) or those texts that employ ��� with different objects: the temple (4Q396 1–2 ii 1), the Torah (4Q398 11–13 7), or even God’s heavenly cohort (4Q287 3.1; 4Q400 2.2//4Q401 14 i 8; 11Q17 viii 4). So, at Qumran, no less than in the Hebrew Bible, “Gott zu fürchten ist also wesentliche Aufgabe derer, die zur Gemeinde der Gläubigen gehören” (Strawn 2013a, 265). But, once again, one might ask: why should the faithful community be de�ned by fear-language per se? Moreover, the Scrolls also attest to the combination of real fear of God’s power, especially in violent judgment (cf. 1QHa 12.26), with real worship expressed for God’s bene�cent activities (cf. 4Q511 52–59.5; 4Q528 3). The Qumran texts, then, no less than the Hebrew Bible proper, attest to the “dual use” of ��� as a term suitable for “real” fear as well as for “religious” fear, the proper attitude toward God. In so doing they once again raise the question of whether the latter is coterminous with, or a subtype of, the former.6 5. Proper response might be approximate to affect state, while correct behavior might be equated with ethical stance. This formulation, too, highlights the duality at work in ���. 6. The fear of the Lord is also found in the New Testament (see Luke 18:4; 23:40; Acts 13:26; Rom 3:18 [citing Ps 36:1]; 2 Cor 5:11; 7:1; 1 Pet 2:17; Rev 14:7),

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The present essay investigates how this “dual use” of ��� (if it is, in fact, binary) is best explained, or, to put the issue differently, how the use of ��� is best interpreted, and focuses especially on ���� ���� in the Hebrew Bible. After an overview of previous treatments of this question (§2), I turn to another dataset—ancient Near Eastern iconography—to explore what artistic depictions might contribute to understanding the literary trope of the “fear of the LORD” (§3). In the conclusion (§4), I summarize my �ndings and offer a methodological suggestion on how the approach taken here might inform future work in iconography and the Hebrew Bible. 2. The “Fear of the LORD” in the Hebrew Bible: A Brief Overview Not surprisingly, a large number of studies have been devoted to the fear of God motif, no doubt due to its ubiquity.7 According to Longman (2008, 201), it is “a major theme” in the Psalms and Wisdom Literature. In Proverbs, for example, and famously, “the fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge” or “the beginning of wisdom” (see Prov 1:7; 9:10, respectively; cf. Prov 15:33; 31:30; Job 28:28). But the motif is also found in many other places in the Hebrew Bible and this complicates any summary overview, a problem further exacerbated by the large number of secondary treatments. It must suf�ce here to state that scholarly assessments of the fear of God motif and its use can largely be grouped into three categories: (1) the developmental, (2) the thematic, and (3) a third, mediating option. 1. In developmental approaches the attempt is made to identify different uses of the fear of God motif in various and distinct literary traditions, sources, or contexts, and to place them in some sort of chronological

and the same is true for the deuterocanonical/apocryphal books (see Tob 4:21; LXX Est 2:20; 4 Esd 7:79; 4 Macc. 15:8). The question of “God-fearers” in Early Judaism is a large one. See, inter alia, Cohen 1999, 140–74. Note also Topel (2012) for a pertinent study of fear in Mark 16:8. The fear of God in Ben Sira has generated a large literature, see Egger-Wenzel 2005 with bibliography. 7. The root ��� occurs 435 times with the verb accounting for 333 instances (Van Pelt and Kaiser 1997, 527; Fuhs 1990, 292; cf. HALOT 2:432: “ca. 320 times”). The standard monographs are Derousseaux 1970; Becker 1965; and Plath 1963. Note should also be made of the treatments in von Rad 1972, 53–73; Fox 2000, 69–71, 111–12; Fuhs 1990; Cox 1982; Clines 2003; and Gruber 1990 = 1992. See further the bibliography included in Clines 2003; 2006, 891–92. 1

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order so as to trace diachronic change.8 The result is that these types of studies present a �lleted perspective that is often based on slight distinctions and very �ne nuances: The fear of the Lord may mean one thing in Job, but it means another thing in the Psalms (or certain psalms), and yet some other thing somewhere else—at least to some degree. Developmental approaches, which could just as well be de�ned as diachronic or composition-critical studies of the fear of God, are not without merit and are often full of great insight. A major problem besetting all such analyses, however, is that a good bit of the textual �lleting is hypothetical at best, completely speculative at worst—depending, for example, on decisions regarding dating texts or traditions that are far from certain, often not shared (or replicable) by others, and thus, in the end, not demonstrable.9 The ultimate proof of the problem is the fact that developmental approaches do not all agree with one another. While it remains a weakness, it is nevertheless and simultaneously a strength of developmental studies that they do their best to delineate the semantics of the fear of God motif within a highly differentiated diachronic framework. The general conclusion is that there is a development in the use of the motif through time. Or, to be more precise, in at least some studies the development that is traced is a devolution: from a “stronger use” of the motif, which at one point really did imply actual, visceral terror vis-à-vis the Deity, to a “weaker use” in later texts— Qoheleth, for example—where “fear” may indicate nothing more than mild reverence or non-descript “religion” (see §1 above). 2. Thematic approaches to the fear of God are less interested in diachronic development than in literary and theological categorization. The categories proffered may be many (cf. Fuhs 1990, 295–96, 306–9), but seem largely reducible to two: the “positive” and “negative” poles. In the �rst, the fear of YHWH “is a virtue that…leads to right behavior,” whereas in the second, such fear involves a “sense of terror,” in or by which God “frighten[s] people into submission” (Longman 2008, 201, 203, 204, respectively). But if developmental approaches are overly �lleted, and in ways that are far from certain, thematic approaches appear too generalizing. The categories and correlate nuances are certainly not 8. Cf., e.g., Fuhs (1990, 296): “A highly differentiated development may be observed, both synchronically and diachronically.” See further ibid., 297–305; Stähli 1997; Wanke 1974. 9. This seems to be the force of Fuhs’s comment (1990, 298): “There is…no analogous historical development [to the semantic one] such as many scholars postulate, as we see when we examine the concept of the fear of God in the ancient Near East.” For a critique of the developmental approach, see Clines 2003, 62–64.

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endless, but they are probably more than just two;10 moreover, the binary categorization of the poles as either “positive” or “negative” seems prima facie far too simplistic. This dichotomy also bifurcates what seems to have been a uni�ed conception (at least via the one root ���) in the ancient perspective—a point to which I will return below. While one sometimes �nds studies that try to combine the developmental and thematic approaches, the biblical data resist any easy reconciliation between the two. So, to return to Ecclesiastes yet once more, is the fear of God there of the terrifying variety (Bickerman 1967; Longman 1998; 2008, 204), or is it the devolved/developed version signifying (merely) reverence and proper piety (cf. Brown 2000, 45, 82, 89; Whybray 1989, 75)?11 In light of Ecclesiastes’ late provenience, developmental approaches would seem to require the latter; but, if Bickerman and others are right,12 then there is—to borrow a phrase from the Preacher himself—the proverbial “�y in the ointment” (Eccl 10:1) that undermines the viability of the developmental schemata, at least any that are overly wooden or linear. The Qumran data make the same point: the Scrolls attest to the perdurance of the “strong use” of the fear of God motif subsequent to Qoheleth (see Strawn 2013a, 266; note also a late use in 1 Chr 14:17). 3. It is considerations like these that have led some scholars to posit a third, mediating approach, which holds that the sense of the fear of God lies somewhere between “respect” and “fear” (cf. Longman 2008, 201). This mediating option is sometimes complimented by the idea that there is something positional about the fear of YHWH. That is to say that those who fear God “know their rightful place in the universe” (Longman 2008, 201; cf. Brown 2000, 56–57, 82, 89). Together, the mediating approach 10. Van Pelt and Kaiser (1997, 527–33) offer a three-part typology: terror, respect, and worship, positing that terror and worship are, “in some sense, polar opposites; the former is characteristic of complete anxiety while the latter suggests trust. The aspect of respect, however, can be either a weakened sense of fear or worship. Therefore, the concept of terror can be weakened to express respect, which can once again be intensi�ed to express worship” (528; see 529 on weakening that leads to uses like Lev 19:3, 30; Josh 4:14; and 1 Kgs 3:28). They also think that differentiating the use of ��� for true terror of YHWH and for worship of YHWH “depends almost entirely upon context” (ibid.). For a very different perspective, see Clines (2003, 60) who thinks the common element is fear of death. Cf. similarly Eichrodt 1967, 270. 11. Cf. Crenshaw (1987, 156), who posits several different meanings to the motif in Ecclesiastes. 12. Fuhs (1990, 312–13) and Stähli (1997, 577) favor a similar interpretation of Qoheleth, at least in Eccl 8:12–13. So also Loh�nk 2003, 61–62. 1

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along with this positional insight appears to provide a way around or beyond the problems facing developmental approaches, on the one hand, and thematic approaches, on the other. In the case of the former, there need not be a direct chronological development from “strong” to “weak” uses of the motif; in the case of the latter, the position of the person visà-vis YHWH is a different way to assess the data beyond calling it simply “positive” and “negative,” perhaps because that position is prior to and foundational to both poles.13 Whatever the case—whether “respectful” or not, “reverential” or otherwise, “awe-full” or something else altogether—the word used in each case is ���, which, at root (and in context) has to do with fear.14 At this point, we have come full circle back to the question that began the present essay: why “fear” per se, especially in light of its different uses (at least, it would seem, two), and the fact that other terms seem to have been available to evoke notions like “reverence,” “religion,” and “piety”?15 Prior approaches—whether developmental, thematic, or mediating—have not been able to address this question adequately. Things seem to be at an impasse between these three approaches, with the results of each mixed at best. Interestingly enough, a common denominator among the three is that, in virtually every instance, the studies in question have been exclusively textual.16 It makes good sense, then, to turn to non-textual realia to see if and how they might grant greater access to the origin(s) or meaning(s) of the fear of God motif and thus offer a way beyond the impasse presently facing an understanding and interpretation of the idea in the Hebrew Bible. As iconographical studies have repeatedly demonstrated, looking at pictures helps. The issue is not, then, simply a matter of redressing an overemphasis on textualphilological approaches to the neglect of iconographic-archaeological ones; it is equally a case of actually seeing fear, as it is represented in

13. See Clines 2003 and Gruber 1990 for other, more integrated approaches. Note also Arnold 2011. 14. This is con�rmed by the other verbs that often appear with ���. These include: ���, ���, ���, ���, and ��� (see Van Pelt and Kaiser 1997, 529; Fuhs 1990, 293–95; Clines 2003, 67–69). Note (Eichrodt 1967, 269), who writes that “[e]ven…[in contexts of ‘trustful love’]…some element of anxiety, however slight, remains.” Cf. similarly Stähli (1997, 573): “even if markedly attenuated, a basic note of numinous fear is always present.” 15. One thinks, e.g., of ���, ���, ���, ���, and ���, among others. 16. A notable exception is Keel 1997a, 307–23. Note also, for the ancient Near Eastern material, the early study by Langdon 1919.

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various artistic contexts17—a point that is exceedingly important if, as the mediating option would have it, the fear of God is, in fundamental ways, a positional phenomenon (cf. Gruber 1975, 77). After all, among other things, the visual data afford unique insight on matters of position, space, and gesture. 3. The Iconography of Fear Before looking at some pictures that might help with the problem of ���� ����, we should recall that many of Israel’s neighbors in the ancient Near East knew the same “double-use” of the fear of God motif. In Egyptian, for example, sn� can be used of the “awesomeness” of, say, Amun-Re, but can also be used of the fear of a person, especially the king (Hornung 1982, 197).18 Akkadian employs the verb pal��u(m) and its derivatives in similar ways (Gruber 1990). Assyrian kings, for instance, often record their fear in the face of the gods’ glory (i.e., reverence) or in light of divine commands (i.e., obedience);19 the kings’ military exploits, in turn, cause fear in others.20 Fear as such is thus shown to be a proper attitude toward the gods and also the king in both Mesopotamia and Egypt.21 17. Contra, e.g., Albright (2006, 19) who wrote that “[w]e are, in the nature of the case, limited almost exclusively to literary sources in dealing with the affective life of the ancient Near East. It is only with the greatest caution that we can draw on graphic representations for illustrative material.” 18. Textual instances of the posture and feeling of fear before kings and supernatural entities are found in The Story of Sinuhe (pertinent details include having the senses disturbed, having the arms stretched out, and trembling [B, 3–4]; the body cringing [B, 228–29], touching the forehead to the ground [B, 249–50], lying �at on the stomach and losing consciousness [B 253–54]; see Simpson et al. 2003, 56, 63–64) and The Shipwrecked Sailor (lying �at on stomach with arms bent before the object of fear, touching the ground in the presence of the one feared, “not knowing myself” [lines 67, 77, 82, 88, 136–37, 142–43, 165; see Simpson et al. 2003, 49, 51–53). Both gods and kings are said to emanate fear in Egyptian texts (e.g., “the fear of you”)—see, e.g., The Story of Sinuhe B, 231–32 (Simpson et al. 2003, 63). Similar sentiment is found in the Hebrew Bible (see, e.g., Gen 9:2; Exod 20:20; Deut 2:25; 11:25). 19. See CAD P, 39 on Ashurbanipal fearing Marduk and Sin and Shamshi-Adad V fearing Aššur. Beyond these gods, many others are explicitly said to be fearsome—e.g., Shamash, Nabu, Gula, Adad, Anunnaku, Ishtar, Enlil, Ninlik, Nurta, Nuska, and Bel (ibid., 42–48). 20. Ibid., 39–41 on Ashurnasirpal, Tiglath-pileser III, Sargon, and Ashurbanipal. For the �rst mentioned, see Olmstead 1918. 21. See generally Bottéro 2001, 36–41; and, more speci�cally, CAD P, 64–65 on pal�iš; ibid., 503–4 on pul�u; and ibid., 505–8 on pulu�tu. See also Oppenheim 1

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All this is well known and oft-cited. What is far less well known or utilized in discussions of the meaning of ���� ���� is that ancient Near Eastern iconography re�ects this same “fear-full” posture vis-à-vis gods and kings. To put the point straightforwardly, the positioning and gestures of worshipers, adorants, or tribute-bearers is often exactly the same as that used with prisoners, enemies, or the combatant who is about to be struck down. I begin with images from Egypt.22 Egypt The smiting posture of the pharaoh is established early in the arthistorical record. What is notable about ���� �, the famous palette of Narmer, is not only that it is one of the �rst instances of the pharaoh’s iconography of dominance, but also that it establishes key aspects of the iconography of enemy positioning. In this early image the subjugated foe looks back—or perhaps better, has his head jerked back—toward the pharaoh who grabs him by his hair before delivering the crushing blow (see Hall 1986; Davis 1992; LeMon 2013).

Figure 1. Narmer Slate palette of Narmer; found at Hierakonpolis (Kom el-Ahmar); Nagada 3/Early Dynastic I (ca. 3000 B.C.E.). After Strawn 2005a, �g. 4.65; cf. ANEP, 296-97. Used with permission.

(1943) for the notion that the gods were clad in pul(u)�(t)u like a garment that was made of �ames and �re (girru labiš, “clad in �re,” or išâti litbušat, “clad in �ames”). For more on melammu, see Aster 2007, 2012; Cassin 1968; Waldman 1984; cf. Lewis 2013. One could also track the use of Aramaic �d�l alongside Hebrew ��� and Akkadian pal��u. 22. Keel and Uehlinger (1998) have demonstrated the pertinence of the Egyptian materials, as do the data collected in Keel 1995, 1997b, 2010a, 2010b, and 2013.

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In contrast to other exemplars, the arms in this case are down, but the legs are particularly noteworthy. Their angle and positioning (right leg at 60°, left at 45°) will be used elsewhere in contexts of divine worship as well as in adoration of the king.

Figure 2. Limestone sketch; New Kingdom (1550–1069 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 412. Used with permission.

�������� shows a full range of postures, and may re�ect a progression of sorts, from standing in adoration, to kneeling, to the full bow (proskynesis).23 The leg positioning of the middle two individuals is striking. It is identical to that found on the Narmer Palette: left leg forward at the 45° angle and the right leg back at the 60°. The arm positions, outstretched in front with the palms held outward toward the object of veneration, is a standard element (so Keel 1997a, 312–13; Langdon 1919, 548–49), characteristic of the Egyptian attitude to prayer (�����).

Figure 3. Relief; Abydos; Mortuary temple of Seti I (1294–1279 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 422. Used with permission. 23. On the full bow, see Keel (1997a, 310); he believes one knee is drawn up “in order to facilitate rising.” Note that Greek proskyne� (“kissing toward”; see Langdon 1919, 544) is the term typically used in the LXX to translate ������. 1

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In fact, this basic image was used as the hieroglyphic determinative (Wilkinson 1992, 15, 29) for such verbs as “praise” (iau), “adore” (dua), “extol” (suash), and “show respect” (ter) (�����).

Figure 4. Sign A 30 dua. After Wilkinson 1992, 29. Used with permission.

Figure 5. Sandstone relief; West Thebes, Medinet Habu; Ramesses III (1184– 1153 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 417a. Used with permission.

This iconography is also found in the smiting scenes. ��������, from the time of Ramesses III (1184–1153 B.C.E.), shows the Pharaoh striking his enemy in two parallel presentations. In the one on the right, the enemy’s left leg is again forward, with the right one again behind, and the body and head twist back as the Pharaoh grasps the hair. The arms are extended outward, and bent, with the palms lifted up toward the pharaoh. The god Montu looks on approvingly. On the left hand side, the enemy’s posture is somewhat different, though the parallel presentation—this time with the god Amun-Re—suggests that the enemy’s gesture with uplifted �nger(s) is to be considered as similar or identical to the other: in both cases, the enemy is attempting to escape or ward off

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the �nal blow somehow, though to no avail.24 The next image (�����), also of Ramesses III from Medinet Habu, shows a synthesis of the two gestures: one hand is upraised in the standard palm extension, another shows the uplifted �nger(s).

Figure 6. Sandstone relief; West Thebes, Medinet Habu; Ramesess III (1184– 1153 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 103. Used with permission.

Many other, similar images could be cited, but these would largely be small variations on a major theme. One of the adorant’s hands might be uplifted in the posture of adoration, with the other extending an offering, for example (cf. Langdon 1919). All together, though, the gestures, hand and arm extensions, and the leg positioning would be entirely familiar, comparable, and oftentimes precisely identical. The signi�cance of these presentations is succinctly captured by Keel: The gesture of raised arms with palms forward is as appropriate to aversion as to veneration. In the �nal analysis, it expresses the attempt to restrain a superior, numinous opposite by means of conjuring, thus rendering it serviceable or averting it. (1997a, 313)

Whether or not the language of restraint, conjuring, or rendering serviceable is always appropriate or everywhere operative, let alone in every instance of the iconography, might be debated, but Keel is certainly right that

24. Keel (1997a, 312–13) thinks the gesture may have originally had an exorcistic character; he cites a passage from Thutmose III (1479–1425 B.C.E.) on the apotropaic effect of upraised arms: “The arms of your majesty are raised to ward off evil” (ibid. 312; cf. also �g. 417 there). 1

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[i]n the presence of the king or a high of�cial, one assumed the same posture as one did before the deity; and especially in the cultus, the deity was generally understood by analogy to the king. (1997a, 322–23) 25

This last point could be demonstrated once more by comparing the arm and hand positioning of the adoring �gures on the footstool of Amun-Re (�����) with the closely similar presentation on the dais of the enthroned Amenhotep III (1390–1352 B.C.E.) (�����). The fact that the latter adorants are foreigners is yet another reminder that the iconography of fear does not encompass only the objects of adoration, the monarchs and/or the gods, but also a third category—that of the subjugated enemy (����� ���), or, if not a combatant proper,26 then, at the very least, the lesser party in an unequal encounter (�����), where, once again, the same postures are found.

Figure 7. Ramesseum, Thebes; Dynasty 19 (1295–1186 B.C.E.). After Wilkinson 1992, 28. Used with permission. 25. Cf. Wilkinson 1992, 29: “Because the [adore/praise] gesture was made before all images of the gods as well as by people approaching the king, it is frequently found in religious scenes and in certain works of art representing subjects, captives, and tribute bearers in the royal court.” Quite apart from debates about the formal doctrine of the Pharaoh’s possible status as a god (on which, see O’Connor and Silverman 1995), iconographical features such as those described above seem functionally to equate the king and the gods. At the very least, the king takes on divine qualities or god-like status insofar as he is worthy of postures also given to the gods. 26. See Davis (1992, 215, �g. 49; Sekhemkhet, Dynasty 3) where the positioning of just one of the enemy’s arms and hands is enough to signify submission. Representations where the combatant occasionally makes contact with the ruler’s body (e.g., ibid. 214, �g. 48; Den, Dynasty 1) may be holdovers from hand-to-hand combat scenes.

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Figure 8. Wall painting (Tomb 226); Thebes; Amenhotep III (1390–1352 B.C.E.). ANEP, 2. Used with permission.

Figure 9. Relief; Abydos; Temple of Seti I (1294–1279 B.C.E.). After Keel 1974, Abb. 35. Used with permission.

Figure 10. Pectoral from Amenemhet III (1843–1798 B.C.E.); Dashur; Middle Kingdom (2106–1786B.C.E.). After Hall 1986, �g. 26. Used with permission.

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One �nal image, a pectoral from Amenemhet III (1843–1798 B.C.E.), highlights these various points in one presentation (������). Here the pharaoh is doubly portrayed about to smite his enemy with his axe-mace and is fanned by personi�ed ankhs as he does so. The foe is portrayed in the now familiar posture, only here the outstretched arms extend what are apparently weapons, perhaps a throwstick and a dagger, giving these to the king “in a gesture of complete submission” (Hall 1986, 15). But this gesture is not solely one of submission because it also evokes the giving of offerings to a god (see, e.g., Keel 1997a, 331–32, �gs. 442–43; also 304 �g. 408 for tribute; cf. Bär 1996). Also noteworthy in the pectoral is how the vulture goddess (probably Nekhbet) oversees the entire tableau. Her talons extend the ankh-sign to the king, but the ankhs are themselves conjoined with the djed-sign and make contact with the pharaoh’s smiting arm, which is to say that the deity supports and empowers the pharaoh’s action and participates in the victory; the enemy’s posture, in turn, is equally applicable to both god and king. It is, in a word, the same posture, the same gesture, the same deference: worship to the god, fear of the dominant king—and vice versa. Mesopotamia Mesopotamian iconography also knows of gestures before the god and before the victorious opponent that are identical or nearly so. Several gestures should be mentioned. First is the obeisance posture, typically referred to as appa lab�nu or lab�n appi in the textual sources.27 The use with appu has led some to believe that, at least in some cases, the posture is fully prostrate, with the nose �at on the ground.28 27. Perhaps, woodenly, “to rub the nose” but with the sense of “to beg humbly, to exhibit utmost humility (in gestures), to pray contritely” (CAD L, 11). See further, inter alia, ibid., 10–12; Langdon 1919; Saggs 1960; Gruber 1975; Frechette 2012. The Sumerian equivalents (e.g., KIR4.ŠU.GÁL) indicate that the gesture includes the hand as well as the nose (Langdon 1919, 549–50; Saggs 1960, 320–21); the phrase apparently denotes “the gesture accompanying a supplication, a prayer for mercy, the expression of complete obedience” (CAD L, 12). 28. So Keel 1997a, 310. Contrast Langdon 1919, 551; Saggs 1960, 321; and especially Gruber 1975, who understands appa lab�nu to signify a “gesture of entreaty.” He depends heavily on Sennacherib’s Bavian inscription (which employs the verb izuzzum and shows a relief of the king standing) as proof that it does not involve prostration (so also Langdon 1919, 552). Not all of Gruber’s examples �t his suggested translation (“gesture of entreaty”) equally well, despite his apologia (1975, 80 n. 34). The more integrated understanding of fear as encompassing both terror and worship advocated in the present essay seems a better route than the contrast that Gruber draws between them (1975, 79–80, “affection and praise rather than entreaty”; my italics).

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Figure 11. Detail from the Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III (858–824 B.C.E.). After Strawn 2005a, �g. 4.40; cf. Gressmann 1927, Abb. 123. Used with permission.

An example of this type of proskynesis is the famous image of the Israelite king, probably Jehu, on the Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III (������); he is clearly subjugated before the Assyrian king, even more so, perhaps, than the other king represented, S�a the Gilz�nean, who at least has his head slightly raised. But in point of fact, the appa lab�nu pose is attested in three variants—“holding the hand close to the nose, touching the nose and rubbing the nose” (Ornan 2005, 119)—none of which require full prostration. Whatever the precise posture, the gesture is mentioned in textual sources for persons approaching the gods—the moon god Sin, for example—and is also used to describe the behavior of defeated or humiliated subjects, including the behavior of such persons before kings like Sargon.29 In fact, the subjugation of enemy peoples is explicitly compared with the posture made before a god in one text that states: “may the kings whom I defeated humble themselves before me as (they do before) Šamaš.”30 Another important pose is known as ub�na tar��u, “to point the �nger.”31 It is shown clearly on the famous pedestal of Tukulti Ninurta I 29. See the texts gathered in CAD L, 11; more generally Gruber 1975; 1980, 1:61–62. 30. šarr� ša akmû k�ma Šamaš ap-pa lil-bi-nu-[ni] (Angim IV 7; CAD L, 10). 31. See CAD T, 211. Ornan states that this is “the typical Assyrian gesture of supplication, portrayed in Neo-Assyrian imagery until the reign of Sennacherib” (2005, 37), noting that Sennacherib adopted the Babylonian gesture of appa lab�nu (2005, 83, 85–86, 135, 137). See further Langdon who thinks that ub�na tar��u is “really the kiss-throwing hand arrested in the last stage of the act and thrown with the index �nger only” (1919, 546). He argues it was known in ancient Israel via texts like 1 Kgs 19:18 and Job 32:26–27 (ibid., 547–48). See further ibid., 535, 539, 544; Gruber 1975, 78.

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(������), where the king makes the gesture before the emblems of Nabu (see Ornan 2005, 52–53; Bahrani 2003, 185–201). The gesture is used extensively for the human adorant before deities even in parts West (���� ��) and it survives into much later periods, as attested by the reuse of a cylinder seal attributed to Tukulti Ninurta on the Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon (������).32 It is also found in contexts where the gesturer is not before the god but before a victor in a combat presentation entirely similar to Egyptian exemplars (������),33 as well as in more peaceful, but no less subordinated, depictions (������).

Figure 12. Pedestal of Tukulti Ninurta I (1243–1207 B.C.E.); Gypsum; Ishtar temple at Asshur. After Keel 1997a, �g. 418; cf. Ornan 2005, �g. 51; ANEP, 576. Used with permission.

Figure 13. Seal impression of Iamut-hamadi, Emar; Middle Assyrian. After Ornan 2005, �g. 24. Used with permission.

32. See Ornan (2005, passim), for additional examples. 33. Ornan thinks the representation of the king facing defeated foes is a new trend in Middle Assyrian art, “plausibly inspired by New Kingdom representations” (2005, 54).

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Figure 14. Impression C, attributed to Tukulti-Ninurta I (1243–1207 B.C.E.), but used on the Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon (680–669 B.C.E.). After Ornan 2005, �g. 25. Used with permission.

Figure 15. Pyxis lid; Asshur; time of Tukulti-Ninurta I (1243–1207 B.C.E.). After Ornan 2005, �g. 52; cf. Keel 1974, �g. 55. Used with permission.

Figure 16. The Broken Obelisk, Nineveh; ca. 1110 B.C.E. (Tiglath-pileser I, 1114–1076 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 297; cf. Ornan 2005, �g. 54; ANEP, 440. Used with permission.

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Figure 17. Til Barsip; Esarhaddon (680–669 B.C.E.). After Ornan 2005, �g. 103. Used with permission.

Figure 18. Zinjirli; Esarhaddon (680–669 B.C.E.). After Ornan 2005, �g. 104a. Used with permission.

Finally, one might note images where the subjects are portrayed in postures of supplication before the king (����������).34 These postures (typically with palms facing inward; see Langdon 1919, 539–43) are not 34. For an analysis of these two images, see Porter 2000 = 2003 (cf. also eadem 1995, 2004), who rightly discusses their propagandistic functions. See further, and more generally, Holloway 2002; Cifarelli 1998.

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entirely the same as those of veneration or aversion, but they, too, have long traditions and are frequently employed with divine �gures or symbols (����������).

Figure 19. Cylinder seal. Seventh/sixth century B.C.E. After Ornan 2005, �g. 70. Used with permission.

Figure 20. Aramaic seal. Seventh/sixth century B.C.E. (?). After Ornan 2005, �g. 71. Used with permission.

Figure 21. Neo-Assyrian cylinder seal. After Ornan 2005, �g. 137. Used with permission.

Keel calls the extended index �gure pose “peculiar[ly] Assyrian,” and thinks it “may have a signi�cance similar to the Egyptian gesture of the raised hands” (1997a, 313) since it is used in both veneration (as in the Tukulti-Ninurta’s pedestal) and in contexts where it apparently wards off 1

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evil (������). But perhaps one might also compare the three-dimensional statue from Larsa that is dedicated to the god Amurru; the inscription describes the person as a “suppliant” (������). What is certain is that Old Babylonian cylinder seals, too, know of the combat pose with the soonto-be-struck foe making gestures of aversion (����������).35

Figure 22. Cylinder seal, jasper; Assyrian. After Keel 1997a, �g. 419. Used with permission.

Figure 23. Bronze statue, probably Larsa; time of Hammurabi (1792–1750 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 420; cf. ANEP, 622. Used with permission.

Figure 24. Cylinder seal; Old Babylonian. After Keel 1974, �g. 12. Used with permission.

35. For additional Syrian examples, see, e.g., Keel 1974, �gs. 66–67.

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Figure 25. Cylinder seal; Old Babylonian. After Keel 1974 �g. 13. Used with permission.

To summarize to this point: these images, while certainly not coterminous in presentation or function,36 nevertheless demonstrate that a set of closely similar, at times even identical postures can be used in two distinct settings: (i) contexts of deity worship and ruler veneration; and (ii) contexts of combat, subjugation, and imminent death. That the same postures can be used in the two settings suggests something similar or comparable about them. But what exactly is that similarity, that comparable aspect? An obvious answer is that both involve real fear, even terror. In (ii), the context of combat and subjugation, one is terri�ed because of the blow that is about to be struck or on account of the captivity that has just taken place. It seems reasonable to believe that (i), the context of deity worship or ruler veneration, derives at least some of its meaning from context (ii). This explains why one “assumes the position” before both the deity and the monarch, even in non-combat situations, because both are dominant �gures who have power over the adorant, tribute-bearer, or the like—power that could easily be wielded in deleterious ways as per (ii). If this is correct, the iconography of fear is quite pertinent to an understanding of the fear of God in the Hebrew Bible. ���� ���� and the artistic data discussed thus far seem comparable on the conceptual level, if not in fact closely related. That the biblical authors insist on using ��� for true fear, whether inspired by the deity or not, and for worship of YHWH, begins to make more sense in the light of the iconographical evidence. The fear of YHWH is seen via this iconography, and, when it is, the fear of the Lord, too, is shown to be predicated on God’s power and 36. For discussion of differences of various sorts (media, function, etc.), which are not unimportant by any means, see Langdon 1919; Cifarelli 1998; Porter 1995, 2000 = 2003, 2004. 1

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the threat that power poses to the worshiper.37 It is no surprise, then, that David fears after the incident with Uzzah (2 Sam 6:9) or that Israel fears when they see what transpires at Horeb (Deut 5:5; cf. Exod 20:20). But are the ancient Near Eastern iconographical materials just generally comparable to the data from the Hebrew Bible or are things more closely related than that? This question can only be answered, at least in part (but see §4 below), by addressing another one—namely, whether or not the iconography of fear as evidenced in the ancient Near East was known and thus available in ancient Israel/Palestine. I turn to that question momentarily; �rst, however, as additional proof of the meaning and overlap of adoring and terri�ed gestures, it is instructive to contrast these with different postures that involve lament or request. Iconographical Contrasts: Lament and Request ����������is an instructive example. The lofty outstretched arm and hand in this image is reminiscent of adorants, but the rest of the body angles— legs, knees, torsos—the curvature of the arms, and especially the rest of the arms and hands that curve backward to the head region, even the open mouths, mark the presentation as different from the earlier examples above.38 ��������� makes the same point. In both of these instances, we have an iconography of grief or request, not one of fear.

Figure 26. Tomb painting; Sheikh Abd el-Qurna (tomb 51, of Userhet); Dynasty 19 (1295–1186 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 428. Used with permission. 37. See further Clines (2003, 64), who writes, “when people do not lie, for example, because of the ‘fear of God’, it does not mean that they do not lie because they behave ethically but because they are afraid of God and of the consequences he may exact of them for lying.” Similarly Hazony (2012, 250): “the expression ‘fear of God’ refers…to a dread of the consequences of wrongdoing”; Eichrodt (1967, 270): the encounter with YHWH “constituted an absolute imperiling of human existence, against which there was no protection” (his italics). 38. See Wilkinson (1992, 34–35), who notes that the hand raised to the head was apparently to cover the face or an act of throwing dust on the head in sorrow.

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Figure 27. Limestone relief; Sakkarah; tomb of Haremhab (1323–1295 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 429. Used with permission.

Figure 28. Lion/Battle�eld Palette; Hierakonpolis; ca. 3000 B.C.E. After Strawn 2005a, �g. 4.84. Used with permission.

Figure 29. Footstool of Tutankhamun (1336–1327 B.C.E.); Thebes. After Wilkinson 1992, �g. 3. Used with permission.

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At the same time, the iconography of fear is not identical with more general depictions of captivity. Prisoners are often bound in ancient art: in Egypt, especially with the two arms behind the back, tied at the elbows (����������),39 and in Mesopotamia by this and various other devices (����������). The positioning of �gures who are apparently in the midst of dying is also typically distinctive; the bodies and limbs of such �gures are more chaotically displayed (����� �����). Finally, depictions that have the hands turned inward, even if used in contexts with a god or divine symbol, are often distinctive, having to do with asking so as to receive, not with the giving of praise or adoration in and of itself (������).40

Figure 30. Seal; Uruk; Protoliterate Period. After Frankfort1970, �g. 25A; cf. Strawn 2000, �g. 1. Used with permission.

Figure 31. Relief; Khorsabad, Hall VIII, 18; Sargon II (721–705 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 77. Used with permission.

39. See Wilkinson 1992, 18–19 and �g. 3; and on combined postures (29) and the rhekty birds (86–87). An inscription of Ramesses II at Medinet Habu states that prisoners were “pinioned like birds” (ibid., 19). 40. See further Langdon 1919, 542–44; Keel 1997a, 318–23; on blessing iconography, see Leuenberger 2008–2009.

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Figure 32. Bull Palette; Predynastic, ca. 3000 B.C.E. After Strawn 2005a, �g. 4.155. Used with permission.

Figure 33. Seal; Mari; Old Babylonian. After Keel 1974, Abb. 19. Used with permission.

Figure 34. Relief; Nineveh, north palace chamber T; Assurbanipal (668–627 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 430. Used with permission.

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To be sure, combinations are possible, as in ����������, where one hand points the �nger and the other is open in a gesture of reception; perhaps ������ is a similar combination of gestures. It is clear, then, that the entire tableau must be considered when determining the overall interpretation of any particular gesture or set of gestures. That granted, combined gestures further underscore the point that both adoration/praise and request (whether for life or blessing) stem from the power of the one adored/praised or supplicated. Evidence from Ancient Israel/Palestine: Proof of Availability In turning to the evidence from ancient Israel/Palestine, it pays to recall that many of the enemies portrayed in the Egyptian images were Asiatics of some sort. Similarly, Semitic tribute-bearers were also among those depicted as “striking the pose” when they brought their gifts (������). While both observations are not unimportant, neither is de�nitive since these portrayals are all from Egypt and re�ect Egyptian conventions.

Figure 35. Wall painting; Thebes / Sheikh Abd el-Qurna (Tomb 63); Thutmosis IV (1400–1390 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 408; cf. ANEP, 47. Used with permission.

More important, then, are the objects from ancient Israel/Palestine itself that attest to the iconography of fear. To be sure, many of these also re�ect artistic conventions originally established elsewhere, especially in Egypt, but not all of them are imports, with some, at least, local products. Either way, they demonstrate the presence of the imagery in the land at various times and in various locales. In so doing, they demonstrate the availability of this imagery—that it was known and used within ancient Israel/Palestine and in the periods within which the biblical texts

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were composed and transmitted (broadly speaking). While a general point, this is actually no small consideration. It must suf�ce for now, but I would argue that, in many cases, it suf�ces in general since further precision on many of these matters is not forthcoming, because, even if we have exact knowledge about an iconographical object (and this is not always so), we rarely know all that we would like to know about the provenience of the biblical texts (see further §4 below).

Figure 36. Bronze plaque; Hazor; Late Bronze Age (ca. 1500–1200 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a, �g. 415. Used with permission.

Figure 37. Stela; Balu�ah. Twelfth–eleventh century B.C.E.; After Keel 1997a, �g. 416; cf. ANEP, 488. Used with permission.

The iconography of fear in ancient Israel/Palestine can begin, �rst, by noting instances of the adoration posture with hand and arm presentations that are comparable to the Egyptian or Mesopotamian pieces discussed above. So, in an image from Late Bronze Age Hazor (������), the single lifted arm is similar to Mesopotamian gestures, while the hand positioning is akin to Egyptian ones (Keel 1997a, 312). The standard Egyptian two-handed gesture is clear in an Egyptianizing stela from Transjordan (���� ��) and in a later, eighth-century B.C.E. ivory from 1

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Hazor (������). A seal impression from the same period at Hazor shows that the image can be “quoted out of context,” as it were, even without the object of veneration (������), proving that the gesture alone was able to communicate its symbolic meaning in ipse.

Figure 38. Ivory casket; Hazor; Str. V A, IA IIB (925–720/700 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, illus. 234a = Keel 1997a, �g. 421. Used with permission.

Figure 39. Seal; Hazor; Str. VI, IA IIB (830–700 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, illus. 234b = Keel 2013, 590–91 (Hazor #21). Used with permission.

Figure 40. Seal; Megiddo. After Keel 1995, Abb. 478. Used with permission.

The uplifted hand before a more powerful �gure is found in a scarab from Megiddo (������). Another from Tell el-Far�ah (South) shows that the defeated enemy is usually not far from view in such depictions, lurking in the background or under the feet of the dominant �gure, as it

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were (������). The �nger pointing gesture is also represented on several objects, like one from Iron Age Megiddo (������).41 Of course the seals also know of the smiting posture with bound captives more generally— sans postures of entreaty on the part of the enemy—as, for example, on two pieces from Late Bronze Age Lachish (����� �����) and another from Tell el-�Ajjul, also from the Late Bronze Age (������).42

Figure 41. Seal; Tell el-Far�ah (South) (tomb 762); probably MB IIB (1650–1500 B.C.E.). After Keel 1995, Abb. 475 = Keel 2010b, 110–11 (Tell el-Far�a Süd #192). Used with permission.

Figure 42. Seal; Megiddo; Iron Age IIC (720/700–600 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 289. Used with permission.

Figure 43. Seal; Lachish; Late Bronze Age (1550–1200 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 97a. Used with permission.

41. For a fuller tableau see Keel and Uehlinger 1998, 293 illus. 287. 42. For the general motif of the striking of enemies see Keel 1995, 221–22 (§602); closely related is the striking down of animals (see ibid., 222–23 [§§603– 604]). 1

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Figure 44. Seal; Lachish; Late Bronze Age (1550–1200 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998 �g. 97b. Used with permission.

Figure 45. Seal; Tell el-�Ajjul; Dynasty 19 (1295–1186 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998 �g. 114b = Keel 1997b, 522–23 (Tell el-�A�ul #1234). Used with permission.

For the purposes of the present essay, objects that combine these various poses—those of domination and power and those of subjugation and fear—into one scene are of the greatest import. These are also found in the iconographical record of ancient Israel/Palestine. A Late Bronze Age seal from Beth-Pelet shows the smiting pharaoh and the kneeling foe with outstretched arms and hands (������). Similar depictions are found at Beth Shean and Beit Mirsim (����������). From Iron I come seals from Tel Masos (���� ��) and Tell el-Far�ah (South) (���� ��) showing the same. In these latter two examples, the scene includes a �gure who stands behind the pharaoh with a hand uplifted apparently in veneration.43 This added element vividly emphasizes the similar if not parallel nature of the gestures of praise and fear. From ninth-century B.C.E. Samaria comes an ivory with the soon-to-be-struck enemy with 43. For a similar presentation, with the venerating �gure in front of the smiting �gure but behind the one to be struck, see Eggler and Keel 2006, 174–75 (#7; Late Bronze I-IIA or slightly later). Perhaps this scene is narratival, with the foe presented in two different positions in time. Regardless, the arm and leg placement of the soon-to-be-struck �gure is rather chaotic; perhaps this foe is dead or in the process of dying (cf. ����������; Keel 1995, 222 Abb. 487).

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the standard leg posture, twisting torso, backward looking head, and upraised, supplicating arms and hands (������). A still later piece from Akko may not have the captive kneeling, but the hands are clearly upraised in the now-familiar posture (������).44

Figure 46. Seal; Beth-Pelet; Late Bronze Age (1550–1200 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998 �g. 97c. Used with permission.

Figure 47. Seal; Beth Shean, Str. VI Late Bronze Age III-Iron Age IA (1190/1180–1150 B.C.E.); Dynasties 19–20, Ramesses II–Ramesses III (1279– 1153 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997, �g. 400a = Keel 2010a, 118–19 (Bet-Schean #47). Used with permission.

Figure 48. Seal; Beit Mirsim, Str. C2 Late Bronze Age IIB (ca. 1300–1200 B.C.E.); Dynasties 19–20 (1295–1069 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997a �g. 400b = Keel 2010a, 46–47 (Bet-Mirsim #11). Used with permission. 44. Objects like the preceding may help to establish the authenticity of otherwise unprovenanced images such as those found in Avigad and Sass 1997, 314, #840; and Keel 1995, 222, Abb. 486–487. 1

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Figure 49. Seal; Tel Masos; Iron Age I (1250–1000 B.C.E.).After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �g. 144b = Keel 1974, Abb. 53. Used with permission.

Figure 50. Seal; Tell el-Far�ah (South), grave 227 (Late Bronze Age IB–IIa, 1050–830 B.C.E.); Dynasties 19–20 (1295–1069 B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998, �gs. 144c = Keel 2010b (Tell el-Far�a Süd #245). Used with permission.

Figure 51. Ivory with inlay; Samaria; Iron Age IIB (�rst half of ninth century B.C.E.). After Keel and Uehlinger 1998 �g. 262b = Keel 1997a, �g. 401. Used with permission.

Figure 52. Seal; Akko, surface �nd; probably Dynasties 25–26 (ca. 780–525 B.C.E.). After Keel 1997b, 610–11 (Akko #226). Used with permission.

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4. Conclusions and a Methodological Suggestion Although many other images could be added,45 the ones gathered here must (and do) suf�ce to show that (1) the postures of fear and adoration were similarly, often identically portrayed, and (2) that their particular combination in the smiting scene is well attested in ancient Israel/ Palestine from the Late Bronze Age through the Iron Age. The objects presented here come from various locations in Transjordan and Cisjordan, were recovered from sites from the South to the North, and date to different time periods. On this basis—or rather these bases—it seems safe to conclude that the iconography of fear was well known and available in the land before and during the time when the biblical materials were taking shape. Given this general fact, we can return to the questions that prompted the present essay and ask how the iconographical data help in the interpretation of the fear of God in the Hebrew Bible. Several points can be made: First, the iconography suggests that it is not quite accurate to speak of a dual use of “fear” when it comes to religious usage. It seems too simplistic to say that there are two entirely different and wholly distinct meanings of “fear,” and that these can be easily glossed as “positive” or “negative.” The iconography shows, instead, that there is something fundamentally similar—even identical—between the fear-response in combat, for instance, and the correct posture of adoration and veneration before monarch and deity.46 Indeed, both can be portrayed in entirely similar postures and gestures on the self-same object (����������; cf. also�����������). The iconographical data suggest, moreover, that fear— real fear, even terror—plays a role in both presentations. When seen in this light, it would seem that the terror-�lled aspects of ��� are never lost, at least not fully.47 We must reckon, rather, with one (dis)position, one posture, or one gesture that can be admitted into and deployed in different literary contexts (certainly more than just two) to different

45. See, inter alia, Eggler and Keel 2006, 228–29 (Pella 65; �nd context dated to Late Bronze IIA, 1400–1350). In this piece, the hand placement of the foe that is about to be struck is distinctive, with palms inward. Perhaps this is a local development. 46. Cf. Keel 1997a, 310: “Proskynesis is at base a fear-response…. Falling down is equivalent to the death-feigning re�ex well-known to behavior research…. Should a [hu]man live nonetheless [after seeing God], it is only due to the grace of God.” On death as the basic fear behind ���/����, see Clines 2003. 47. See n. 14 above.

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effect. In making this point, I do not wish to overturn the careful work that has been done in developmental approaches to the fear of God motif. And, whether scholars advocating a developmental approach refer to it or not, the linguistic phenomenon of semantic shift is a factor that should be kept in mind. Semantic shift is widely known and altogether expected diachronically (see Hock 1991, 280–308, esp. 305–7; McWhorter 2003, 31–32; more generally Miller-Naudé and Zevit 2012). It is not impossible that the meaning of ��� may have developed over time. Even so, it pays to remember that, even if the semantics of ��� developed, the lexeme itself was retained. That is to say that if the (dis)position, posture, or gesture meant something else or somehow communicated differently later, it did not take any number of other roots which were available and which might have conveyed different, perhaps “weakened,” senses (e.g., ���, ���, ���, ���, and ���). Instead, at all points in the present investigation we have to do with ���, fear. The iconography not only supports this point, it indicates that any drift that may have happened with ��� was not nearly as drastic as is sometimes suggested.48 Like Clines (2003, 64, 69–70), then, I am not convinced that the semantics of ��� did shift, but I base this opinion not solely on the interpretation of the texts, whether early or late, but also on the iconography, which shows no weakening or drift. The burden of proof is always on the one who wants to prove something, but it seems to me that those advocating semantic drift will, at the very least, have to somehow disprove or discount the pertinence and stability of the iconography of fear when making their case. Second, the iconography has repeatedly evidenced a close connection between the god and the monarch. It comes as no surprise, then, that, in the Hebrew Bible, one fears not only the Lord but also powerful individuals, especially the king, as, for example, in Prov 24:21: “My child, fear the LORD and the king, and do not disobey either of them” (NRSV).49 Wisdom literature is replete with counsel regarding proper behavior before the ruler (see Prov 14:35; 16:13–15; 19:12; 20:2; 22:11, 29; 25:6; 48. Cifarelli’s formulation (in a different context) is apt here: “the visual and verbal idioms were generated within the same cultural milieu” (1998, 225). 49. Fuhs (1990, 297) includes 2 Sam 12:18 (David); 1 Kgs 1:50–51 (Solomon); Jer 26:21 (Jehoiakim); and 2 Kgs 10:4 (Jehu) as similar in sense. On Proverbs proper, see Yoder (2009, 6): “we should not draw too sharp a distinction between ‘fear of the LORD’ and fear” (similarly Yoder 2005, 80–81). Note also the use of ��� in Ps 45:5 and Dan 1:10 in conjunction with the king, along with bowing before the king in Pss 45:11; 72:11. CAD P, 44 lists constructions that have both god and king as the object of pal��u.

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Eccl 8:2–4; 10:20). When the fear of the Lord is considered in artistic perspective, the connections between god and king receive further color and depth. The monarch may look a bit more divine, and YHWH, in turn, is displayed in regal attire. The motif of the fear of God reinforces the Lord’s position as absolute sovereign even as it lends some of God’s divine power to the human superior. Not to be missed here is an additional problem for developmental approaches to ���� ����—namely, that if one wishes to posit a weakening of the fear of God then one would probably have to posit the same for monarchs. If the latter is deemed unlikely, and if the literary and artistic imagery (language and iconography) highlight similarity between these two objects of fear—God and king—then the former, too, faces problems. Third, as several scholars have suspected, the fear of YHWH may ultimately be about proper human position or disposition before the deity. That (dis)position could be understood as an interior matter, related to affect states, but it could also be understood externally—as physically manifested in gesture, body posture in space, and so forth. Indeed, the literary and artistic data combine to suggest that the fear of God is best understood as both: both interior and exterior, both affective and physical.50 If so, then the fear of God notion signals that worshippers must adopt a proper perspective and posture vis-à-vis the Deity. That perspective and posture is, at root, one marked by subordination, even subjugation, before the almighty God, and it is rooted in the power of the kingly Lord, who can do whatever YHWH pleases (see Pss 115:3; 135:6; Job 9:12; 36:23; cf. 1 Sam 3:18; Eccl 8:3–4).51 The iconography of fear 50. So also Keel (1997a, 308): “it is not surprising that the (inner) relation of man to God is also viewed in terms of distinct manifestations and �xed postures, gestures, and actions.” In this sense, it is not the weakening of ��� that allows its use in ethical scenarios but the interior, affective nature of the fear that is always present. Otto’s notion of the numinous also embraced “an inner polarity: terror, retreat, and �ight on the one hand; attraction, trust, and love on the other” (Fuhs 1990, 298; cf. Eichrodt 1967, 269; see further Raphael 1997, 207). 51. It is worth noting at this point that YHWH is never said to fear any other entity, a point that is in contrast to the comparative data where the gods are often said to fear other gods (see, e.g., Gilg xi 114; EE vii 108 [CAD P, 41–42, 64–65; also CAD L, 10–11]; KTU 1.5 II.6–7 [of Baal]; 1.6 VI.30–31 [of Mot]) or where they adopt postures of veneration before other gods (Wilkinson 1992, 29; Keel 1997a, 60, �g. 63). See 1 Sam 5:1–5 for an account that has the Philistine god Dagon assuming a posture of fear, and then total defeat, before YHWH’s ark, which was presumably placed in Dagon’s temple by the Philistines as a sign of their god’s power and authority. The account reveals, of course, the exact opposite. For a treatment, see Miller and Roberts 1977, 40–51. Cf. Bahrani 2003, 182 on the mutilation of images. 1

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underscores that whether for adorant or for foe, the procurement of life from the powerful entity is what is at stake in both posture and perspective, feeling and gesture, adoration and supplication. In this way, the iconography of fear can be seen as the human side of the iconography of divine power, which is often presented in integrated, yet bi-polar fashion—with the deity depicted with life-giving and benevolent aspects side-by-side with death-wielding, martial, and punitive aspects (Strawn 2005b, 636–38). The latter make human beings fear, the former make human beings praise, but they belong to the self-same deity with the responses belonging to the self-same human beings. It should come as no surprise, then, that “nôr�� as a characterization of the ‘frightful’ deeds of God usually refers to occurrences that bene�t Israel” (Stähli 1997, 572). Nor is it the case that, when combined with mentions of God’s mercies, ����’s “numinous element” is somehow diminished (Fuhs 1990, 300). Again, the two “sides” of ��� are not unrelated, but are instead profoundly and deeply interconnected—or better yet integrated. To return to the Dead Sea Scrolls, 11Q11 3, 9–10 indicates that those who do not fear YHWH (i.e., revere/worship/obey) will end up in fear (i.e., afraid/in terror) of YHWH’s judgment. But according to 4Q301 3a–b, 4–5, God is “fearful” not just because God is “terrible [����] for the deliberation of his anger” but also because God is “renowned [����] for his patience” (Strawn 2013a, 266). Since the present essay is dedicated to Othmar Keel in honor of his groundbreaking work, The Symbolism of the Biblical World, I would like to end this essay with a methodological suggestion that is inspired in no small way by that pioneering volume. The suggestion proceeds from the judgment that the iconography of fear demonstrates once again that the artistic evidence is helpful in considering what might be called not simply visual aspects of culture, but visual thinking—that is, the making of meaning in non-textual ways and how that impinges on meaningmaking in textual ways.52 In the case of biblical iconography, the ideal situation would involve widespread attestation of a motif across the ancient world and, even more perfectly, similar attestation from ancient

52. Visual culture studies “regards the visual image as the focal point in the processes through which meaning is made in a cultural context” (Dikovitskaya 2005, 1). The secondary literature is vast, but see, inter alia, Arnheim 1966, 1969, 1986, 2004; Davis 2011; Elkins 2003; McDannell 1995; Mirzoeff 1999; Mitchell 1986, 1994, 2005; Morgan 1998, 2005, 2010; Pasztory 2005; Ramachandran 2004, 24–59; Rose 2007; cf. Strawn 2008. For a sophisticated application of these works, and many others, to the study of biblical iconography, see Bon�glio 2014.

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Israel/Palestine in the appropriate periods with full con�rmation in both image and text in clearly datable strata. Such a situation is, of course, almost never encountered (cf. Taylor 2008). Absence of evidence does not constitute evidence of absence, as the old adage goes, but my methodological suggestion is that biblical iconography need not be obsessed solely or even excessively with historical propinquity or geographical proximity. It can just as easily, just as validly, traf�c in cognitive matters. Since human beings—both ancient and modern—make meaning in no small way by means of images, it is reasonable to believe that the artistic data cast signi�cant, even irreplaceable, light on cognitive functioning and meaning-making in antiquity. Low literacy rates in the ancient world only underscore the point. Keel and the movement he initiated (the Fribourg School) have moved increasingly toward diachronic precision in the studies that have followed Symbolism of the Biblical World. There can be no doubt that this is a great methodological advance. In contrast to his work with Uehlinger (1998), or his monumental Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit (1995, 1997b, 2010a, 2010b, 2013; also Eggler and Keel 2006), Keel’s earlier work seems almost phenomenological (Strawn 2013b; de Hulster 2007, 31– 125). Symbolism of the Biblical World takes a wide-angle approach, paints with broad synthetic strokes, and is not concerned much with �nd spot, periodization, and so forth. Once again, the methodological re�nements of the “later” Keel and Fribourg School are most welcome and represent true advances. Even so, the present study of the iconography of fear and my suggestion regarding visual art as a window onto ancient cognition suggests that, even in the absence of the perfect scenario— attestation of a particular motif or image within ancient Israel/ Palestine—or when facing a dearth of the data regarding time and place that we would most like to have, the study of ancient Near Eastern iconography still casts additional and precious light on the ancients, and does so precisely by granting us access to their visual culture and thus their (visual) thinking.53 At least two things follow: First, Keel’s pioneering work in Symbolism of the Biblical World remains foundational, more than forty years later, even though it does not re�ect his later, methodological re�nements. It remains foundational in part because iconographical phenomenology, when used as a window onto ancient visual

53. These similar ways of ancient thinking need not be genetically related. As Smith (1994) points out, the kinds of comparisons made in religious research are not genetic at any rate. 1

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culture and cognition, isn’t all bad—quite to the contrary! Second, future work in the study of the Hebrew Bible and ancient Near Eastern iconography must engage in more sustained conversation with cognitive theory regarding images and meaning-making.54 Bibliography Albright, W. F. 2006. Archaeology and the Religion of Israel. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1942. Repr. OTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Arnheim, R. 1966. Toward a Psychology of Art: Collected Essays. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 1969. Visual Thinking. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 1986. New Essays on the Psychology of Art. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 2004. Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley: University of California Press. Arnold, B. T. 2011. The Love–Fear Antinomy in Deuteronomy 5–11. VT 61:551–69. Aster, S. Z. 2007. The Image of Assyria in Isaiah 2:5–22: The Campaign Motif Reversed. JAOS 127:249–78. ———. 2012. The Unbeatable Light: Melammu and Its Biblical Parallels. AOAT 384. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Avigad, N., and B. Sass. 1997. Corpus of West Semitic Stamp Seals. Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. Bahrani, Z. 2003. The Graven Image: Representation in Babylonia and Assyria. ACS. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Bär, J. 1996. Der assyrische Tribut und seine Darstellung: Eine Untersuchung zur imperialen Ideologie im neuassyrischen Reich. AOAT 243. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag.� Becker, J. 1965. Gottesfurcht im Alten Testament. AnBib 25. Rome: Ponti�cal Biblical Institute. Bickerman, E. 1967. Four Strange Books of the Bible: Jonah, Daniel, Koheleth, Esther. New York: Schocken.

54. See the works cited in n. 53 above. On the speci�c problem of fear, note Goetz, Spencer-Rodgers, and Peng (2008) who have shown that it is possible to feel contrasting emotions at the same time and that the feeling of awe can be accompanied by emotions such as fear, joy, and calm. (Eichrodt de�ned the “basic religious feeling…as ‘awe’” [1967, 269].) Goetz, Spencer-Rodgers, and Peng have also pointed out that non-Western cultures have a higher tolerance for emotional complexity (2008, 517; cf. Schimmack, Oishi, and Diener 2002, 715; Williams and Aaker 2002). Studies like these refute statements like Egger-Wenzel’s that “[a] person who is frightened, afraid of somebody or something, is normally unable to experience joy at the same time” (2005, 212). A better, more integrated statement is found in Castelo 2008, 160. I thank Colleen Shantz and Brett E. Maiden for discussions on cognitive science. For studies that bring the scienti�c study of emotion to bear on the fear of God, see Gruber 1990; Arnold 2011; Yoder 2005.

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Bon�glio, R. P. 2014. Reading Images, Seeing Texts: Towards a Visual Hermeneutics for Biblical Studies. Ph.D. diss., Emory University. Bottéro, J. 2001. Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia. Translated by T. L. Fagan. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Brown, W. P. 2000. Ecclesiastes. IBC. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Büchler, A. 1967. Studies in Sin and Atonement in the Rabbinic Literature of the First Century. LBS. New York: Ktav. Cassin, E. 1968. La splendeur divine: Introduction à l’étude de la mentalité mésopotamienne. CS 8. Paris: Mouton & Co. Castelo, D. 2008. The Fear of the Lord as Theological Method. JTI 2:147–60. Cifarelli, M. 1998. Gesture and Alterity in the Art of Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria. ABull 80:210–28. Clines, D. J. A. 2003. “The Fear of the Lord Is Wisdom” (Job 28:28): A Semantic and Contextual Study. Pages 57–92 in Job 28: Cognition in Context. Edited by E. van Wolde. BIS 64. Leiden: Brill. ———. 2006. Job 21–37. WBC 18A. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Cohen, S. J. D. 1999. The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties. HCS 31. Berkeley: University of California Press. Cox, D. 1982. Fear or Conscience?: Yir�at YHWH in Proverbs 1–9. Pages 83–90 in Studia hierosolymitana III: Nell’ottavo centenario francescano, 1182–1982. Edited by G. C. Bottini. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing. Crenshaw, J. L. 1987. Ecclesiastes: A Commentary. OTL. Philadelphia: Westminster. Davis, W. 1992. Masking the Blow: The Scene of Representation in Late Prehistoric Egyptian Art. CSHA 30. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 2011. A General Theory of Visual Culture. Princeton: Princeton University Press. de Hulster, I. J. 2007. Illuminating Images: An Iconographical Method of Old Testament Exegesis with Three Case Studies from Third Isaiah. Ph.D. diss., University of Utrecht. Derousseaux, L. 1970. La crainte de Dieu dans l’Ancien Testament: Royauté, alliance, sagesse dans les royaumes d’Israël et de Juda: Recherches d’exégèse et d’histoire sur la racine yâré�. LD 63. Paris: Cerf. Dikovitskaya, M. 2005. Visual Culture: The Study of the Visual After the Cultural Turn. Cambridge: MIT. Egger-Wenzel, R. 2005. “Faith in God” Rather Than “Fear of God” in Ben Sira and Job: A Necessary Adjustment in Terminology and Understanding. Pages 211–26 in Intertextual Studies in Ben Sira and Tobit: Essays in Honor of Alexander A. Di Lella, O.F.M. Edited by J. Corley and V. Skemp. CBQMS 38. Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association. Eggler, J., and O. Keel. 2006. Corpus der Siegel-Amulette aus Jordanien: Vom Neolithikum bis zur Perserzeit. OBO.SA 25. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Eichrodt, Walther. 1967. Theology of the Old Testament, vol. 2. Translated by J. A. Baker. OTL. Philadelphia: Westminster. Elkins, J. 2003. Visual Studies: A Skeptical Introduction. London: Routledge. Fox, M. V. 2000. Proverbs 1–9: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 18A. New York: Doubleday. Frankfort, H. 190. Art and Architecture of the Ancient Orient. 4th ed. Harmondsworth: Penguin. 1

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Frechette, C. G. 2012. Mesopotamian Ritual-prayers of “Hand-lifting” (Akkadian Šuillas): An Investigation of Function in Light of the Idiomatic Meaning of the Rubric. AOAT 379. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Fuhs, H. F. 1990. ��� �� y�r��; ��� �� y�r��; ��� �� �� yir�â; ���� � môr��. Pages 290–315 in vol. 4 of TDOT. Goetz, J. L., J. Spencer-Rodgers, and K. Peng. 2008. Dialectical Emotions: How Cultural Epistemologies In�uence the Regulation of Emotional Complexity. Pages 17–39 in Handbook of Motivation and Cognition Across Cultures. Edited by R. M. Sorrentino and S. Yamaguchi. San Diego: Academic. Gressmann, H. 1927. Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alten Testament. 2d ed. Berlin: de Gruyter. Gruber, M. I. 1975. Akkadian lab�n appi in the Light of Art and Literature. JANESCU 7: 73–83 = Gruber 1992, 133–47. ———. 1980. Aspects of Nonverbal Communication in the Ancient Near East. 2 vols. SP 12/I-II. Rome: Biblical Institute. ———. 1990. Fear, Anxiety and Reverence in Akkadian, Biblical Hebrew and Other North-West Semitic Languages. VT 40:411–22 = Gruber 1992, 193–208. ———. 1992. The Motherhood of God and Other Studies. SFSHJ 57. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Hall, E. S. 1986. The Pharaoh Smites His Enemies: A Comparative Study. MÄS 44. Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag München. Hazony, Y. 2012. The Philosophy of Hebrew Scripture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hock, H. H. 1991. Principles of Historical Linguistics. 2d ed. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Holloway, S. W. 2002. Aššur Is King! Aššur Is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire. CHANE 10. Leiden: Brill. Hornung, E. 1982. Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many. Translated by J. Baines. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Jacobsen, T. 1970. Toward the Image of Tammuz and Other Essays on Mesopotamian History and Culture. Edited by W. L. Moran. HSS 21. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Keel, O. 1974. Wirkma�chtige Siegeszeichen im Alten Testament: Ikonographische Studien zu Jos 8, 18–26, Ex 17, 8–13, 2 Ko�n 13, 14–19 und 1 Kön 22, 11. OBO 4. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 1995. Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit, Einleitung. OBO.SA 10. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 1996. Die Welt der altorientalischen Bildsymbolik und das Alte Testament: Am Beispiel der Psalmen. 5th ed. Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht (1972). ———. 1997a. The Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Book of Psalms. Translated by T. Hallett. New York: Seabury, 1978. Repr., Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns (1972). ———. 1997b. Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit, Katalog Band I: Von Tell Abu Fara� bis �Atlit. OBO.SA 13. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2010a. Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit, Katalog Band II: Von Bahan bis Tel Eton. OBO.SA 29. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

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———. 2010b. Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit, Katalog Band III: Von Tell el-Far�a Nord bis Tell elFir. OBO.SA 31. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2013. Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel: Von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit, Katalog Band IV: Von Tel Gamma bis Chirbet Husche. OBO.SA 33. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger. 1998. Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel. Translated by T. H. Trapp. Minneapolis: Fortress. Langdon, S. 1919. Gesture in Sumerian and Babylonian Prayer: A Study in Babylonian and Assyrian Archaeology. JRAS 51:531–56. Lee, E. P. 2005. The Vitality of Enjoyment in Qohelet’s Theological Rhetoric. BZAW 353. Berlin: de Gruyter. LeMon, J. M. 2013. YHWH’s Hand and the Iconography of the Blow in Psalm 81:14–16. JBL 132:865–82. Leuenberger, M. 2008–2009. Blessing in Text and Picture in Israel and the Levant: A Comparative Case Study on the Representation of Blessing in �irbet el-Qom and on the Stela of Yehiawmilk of Byblos. BN 139:61–77; BN 141:67–89. Lewis, T. J. 2013. Divine Fire in Deuteronomy 33:2. JBL 132:791–803. Loh�nk, N. 2003. Qoheleth: A Continental Commentary. Translated by S. McEvenue. Minneapolis: Fortress. Longman, T. III. 1998. The Book of Ecclesiastes. NICOT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. ———. 2008. Fear of the Lord. Pages 201–5 in Dictionary of the Old Testament: Wisdom, Poetry & Writings. Edited by Tremper Longman III and Peter Enns. Downers Grove: IVP Academic. McDannell, C. 1995. Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America. New Haven: Yale University Press. McWhorter, J. 2003. The Power of Babel: A Natural History of Language. New York: Perennial. Miller, P. D., Jr., and J. J. M. Roberts. 1977. The Hand of the Lord: A Reassessment of the “Ark Narrative” of 1 Samuel. JHNES. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Miller-Naudé, C., and Z. Zevit, eds. 2012. Diachrony in Biblical Hebrew. LSAWS 8. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Mirzoeff, N. 1999. An Introduction to Visual Culture. London: Routledge. Mitchell, W. J. T. 1986. Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ———. 1994. Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual Representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ———. 2005. What Do Pictures Want? The Lives and Loves of Images. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Morgan, D. 1998. Visual Piety: A History and Theory of Popular Religious Images. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 2005. The Sacred Gaze: Religious Visual Culture in Theory and Practice. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———, ed. 2010. Religion and Material Culture: The Matter of Belief. London: Routledge. Neusner, J. 1988. The Mishnah: A New Translation. New Haven: Yale University Press. 1

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O’Connor, D. B., and D. P. Silverman, eds. 1995. Ancient Egyptian Kingship. PÄ 9. Leiden: Brill. Olmstead, A. T. 1918. The Calculated Frightfulness of Ashur Nasir Apal. JAOS 38:209– 63. Oppenheim, A. L. 1943. Akkadian pul(u)�(t)u and melammu. JAOS 63:31–34. Ornan, T. 2005. The Triumph of the Symbol: Pictorial Representation of Deities in Mesopotamia and the Biblical Image Ban. OBO 213. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Otto, R. 1950. The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the Non-Rational Factor in the Idea of the Divine and Its Relation to the Rational. 2d ed. Translated by J. W. Harvey. London: Oxford University Press (1923). Pasztory, E. 2005. Thinking with Things: Toward a New Vision of Art. Austin: University of Texas Press. Pfeiffer, R. H. 1955. The Fear of God. IEJ 5:41–48.� Plath, S. 1963. Furcht Gottes: Der Begriff y�ra� im Alten Testament. AzTh 2/2. Stuttgart: Calwer. Porter, B. N. 1995. Language, Audience and Impact in Imperial Assyria. Pages 51–72 in Language and Culture in the Near East. Edited by S. Izre�el and R. Drory. IOS 15. Leiden: Brill. ———. 2000. Assyrian Propaganda for the West: Esarhaddon’s Stelae for Til Barsip and Sam�al. Pages 143–76 in Essays on Syria in the Iron Age. Edited by G. Bunnens. ANESSup 7. Louvain: Peeters. ———. 2003. Trees, Kings, and Politics: Studies in Assyrian Iconography. OBO 197. Fribourg: Academic; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2004. Ritual and Politics in Assyria: Neo-Assyrian Kanephoric Stelai for Babylonia. Pages 259–74 in CARIS: Essays in Honor of Sara A. Immerwahr. Edited by A. P. Chapin. Hesperia Sup 33. Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Ramachandran, V. S. 2004. A Brief Tour of Human Consciousness: From Imposter Poodles to Purple Numbers. New York: Pi. Raphael, M. 1997. Rudolf Otto and the Concept of Holiness. Oxford: Clarendon; New York: Oxford University Press. Ringgren, H. 1966. Israelite Religion. Translated by D. Green. Philadelphia: Fortress. Rose, G. 2007. Visual Methodologies: An Introduction to the Interpretation of Visual Materials. 2d ed. Los Angeles: Sage. Roth, M. T., et al., eds. 1956–2010. The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. 21 vols. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. (CAD) Saggs, H. W. F. 1960. The Branch to the Nose. JTS 11:318–29. Schimmack, U., S. Oishi, and E. Diener. 2002. Cultural In�uences on the Relations Between Pleasant and Unpleasant Emotions: Asian Dialectic Philosophies or Individualism-Collectivism? Cog&Em 16:705–19. Simpson, W. K. et al., eds. 2003. The Literature of Ancient Egypt: An Anthology of Stories, Instructions, Stelae, Autobiographies, and Poetry. 3d ed. New Haven: Yale University Press. Smith, J. Z. 1994. Drudgery Divine: On the Comparison of Early Christianities and the Religions of Late Antiquity. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Stähli, H.-P. 1997. ��� yr� to Fear. Pages 568–78 in vol. 2 of Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament. Edited by E. Jenni and C. Westermann. Translated by M. E. Biddle. 3 vols. Peabody: Hendrickson. Strawn, B. A. 2005a. What Is Stronger Than a Lion? Leonine Image and Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East. OBO 212. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2005b. Who’s Listening to Whom? A Syntactical Note on the Melqart Inscription. UF 37:621–41. ———. 2008. Imagery. Pages 306–14 in Dictionary of the Old Testament: Wisdom, Poetry and Writings. Edited by T. Longman III and P. Enns. Downers Grove: IVP Academic. ———. 2013a. ��� �� j�re�, ��� �� �� jir��h, ���� � môr��. Cols. 257–66 in vol. 2 of Theologisches Wörterbuch zu den Qumrantexten. Edited by H.-J. Fabry and U. Dahmen. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. ———. 2013b. Review of Keel 2013. RBL 08/2013. Cited March 2014. Online: http://www.bookreviews.org/bookdetail.asp?TitleId=9243. Taylor, P., ed. 2008. Iconography Without Texts. London: Warburg Institute; Turin: Nino Aragno. Topel, J. 2012. What Were the Women Afraid Of ? (Mark 16:8). JTI 6:79–96. Van Pelt, M. V., and W. C. Kaiser, Jr. 1997. ���. Pages 527–33 in vol. 2 of VanGemeren 1997. VanGemeren, W. A., ed. 1997. New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan. von Rad, G. 1972. Wisdom in Israel. Nashville: Abingdon. Waldman, N. M. 1984. A Note on Ezekiel 1:18. JBL 103:614–18. Wanke, G. 1974. ����� and ��������. Pages 197–205 in vol. 9 of TDNT. Whybray, R. N. 1989. Ecclesiastes. NCB. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Wilkinson, R. H. 1992. Reading Egyptian Art: A Hieroglyphic Guide to Ancient Egyptian Painting and Sculpture. London: Thames & Hudson. Williams, P., and J. L. Aaker. 2002. Can Mixed Emotions Peacefully Coexist? Journal of Consumer Research 28:636–49. Yoder, C. R. 2005. The Objects of Our Affections: Emotions and the Moral Life in Proverbs 1–9. Pages 73–88 in Shaking Heaven and Earth: Essays in Honor of Walter Brueggemann and Charles B. Cousar. Edited by C. R. Yoder et al. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. ———. 2009. Proverbs. AOTC. Nashville: Abingdon.

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“CHILDREN I HAVE RAISED AND BROUGHT UP” (ISAIAH 1:2): FEMALE METAPHORS FOR GOD IN ISAIAH AND THE ICONOGRAPHY OF THE SYRO-PALESTINIAN GODDESS ASHERAH Martin Klingbeil

1. Introduction: Imagery and Images The relationship between biblical and ancient Near Eastern images has been discussed from a predominantly empirical perspective for more than three decades now.1 Recently, scholarship has turned toward an explicit focus on methodology, with a view to establishing the hermeneutics of iconography and exploring the interface between biblical metaphors and iconographical material from the ancient Near East (Klingbeil 2009; de Hulster 2008, 2009). Cognitive linguistics has proven helpful in this endeavor, in that both iconography (the material image) and metaphor (the literary/verbal image) converge in the cognitive image domain.2 As such, one can establish the semantics of material and literary 1. These studies have come mainly through publications from the so-called Fribourg School. For a short summary of publications from the University of Fribourg, Switzerland, see Schroer and Keel 2005, 13–16. The authors sketch the development of iconographic studies throughout the last 20 years, since Keel published his �rst work on the iconography of the Hebrew Psalter in 1972. This early work re�ected Keel’s intention to survey the conceptual similarities between the biblical text and the ancient Near Eastern image, drawing mainly on Mesopotamian and Egyptian monumental art (cf. Keel 1972). 2. An image is a mediated representation of a mostly absent reality. It thus creates a virtual reality that has been interpreted by the producer and also needs to be interpreted through perception. Thus an image creates a tension between the absence of the original object and its substitution. Material images (objects) and verbal/ literary images (metaphors) can be authenticated or realized. Yet a mental image is elusive in character. This study presumes that a literary image and a material image draw from the same domain and can be related to each other (see the graph in de Hulster 2009, 53). In other words, one may assume a direction from material to verbal/literary image via the mental image, or vice-versa (cf. Klingbeil 2007).

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images on a micro-level and then map these elements to one another (Klingbeil 2009, 205–10). The Hebrew Bible talks about God primarily in anthropomorphic terms, though with a sizeable portion of theriomorphic and physiomorphic imagery as well. All of these descriptions of the divine are essentially metaphorical in character, recalling Caird’s famous claim: “all, or almost all, of the language used by the Bible to refer to God is metaphor” (1980, 18). While Caird’s de�nition of metaphor may be too broad,3 his statement does underline the importance of the study of biblical metaphor. And increasingly, scholars are analyzing biblical metaphors in light of ancient Near Eastern iconography, since this source of data provides a material counterpart to literary imagery. A relatively small number of female metaphors for God appears in the Hebrew Bible, at least when compared with male metaphors. Yet quantity is not necessarily a determinant of importance.4 In fact, these metaphors constitute a signi�cant pool of imagery for God. Since goddess imagery so widely permeates the iconographic repertoire of the ancient Near East, many promising sources of comparison exist between these material images and the literary imagery in the Hebrew Bible. 5 3. Macky (1990, 192–216), one of Caird’s most vocal critics, proposes various criteria for differentiating between literal and �gurative language for God (cf. also Bjørndalen 1986, 96). In support of Caird’s position that all God-talk is exclusively metaphorical, see Brümmer (2003, 85): “It is now clear that, although the theistic form of life necessarily presupposes realist claims about the existence of God, these claims, like all claims about God, are metaphorical.” 4. McGregor Wright (2005, 293) provides an interesting study on the gendered imagery used throughout the Bible and stresses the metaphorical nature of God-talk as complementary and re�ective of the imago dei. Thus the imagery is pragmatic and not necessarily an expression of what constitutes the godhead: “God’s prior creatorial sovereignty makes him the source of the meaning of any comparison or metaphor, not the result of it. God simply chooses the appropriate comparison to illustrate his actions.” The author also argues that this provides an explanation for the predominantly male metaphors of God that are used throughout the Bible, since they are adjusted to both the cultural environment of ancient Israel and the linguistic features of its language: “The predominance of male imagery is in part an accommodation to a patriarchal culture, in which men owned and inherited and so held most of the social and political power, while women were usually limited to caring for children and their homes. It is also in part a byproduct of the limitations of languages that usually express personhood only by male pronouns, unless a literal woman is the subject” (McGregor Wright 2005, 297). 5. Cornelius (2009, 77–78) discusses the goddess in ancient Palestinian iconography and raises important methodological questions regarding the identi�cation of female images as goddesses (cf. also Cornelius 2004; Keel and Uehlinger 1992). 1

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The purposes of the present study are threefold: �rst, to create a pro�le of female metaphors of God in the book of Isaiah together with their associated submetaphors; second, to create a corresponding pro�le of depictions of the Syro-Palestinian goddess Asherah that fall within the comparative criteria of the texts; and third, to map these depictions to iconographic elements common to the iconography of the goddess Asherah. In terms of methodology, I will follow a similar approach to one I developed in a previous study on the relationship between the Heavenly Warrior metaphor in the Hebrew Psalter and the iconography of the Storm- and Warrior-god Baal (Klingbeil 2009). The study demonstrated the possibilities of establishing the semantics of both metaphor and image, and thus provided the platform for mapping the images between semantic �elds. 2. Female Metaphors in Isaiah This gendered metaphorical reading of the text of Isaiah will be synchronic in that it will not necessarily focus on date and authorship but rather on a holistic reading of the prophet. This reading is not meant to be an opt-out from an ongoing debate. Rather, this approach responds to the permanence of imagery in the collective cultural memory of a people (de Hulster 2009, 60) that �nds its counterpart in the usage and re-usage of iconographic motifs throughout the material culture of the ancient Near East.6 In other words, metaphors as well as images travel through time, thus they can easily encompass a time period much broader than that which has traditionally been assigned to the various parts of the book of Isaiah.7 However, a look at the current literature shows that a case for the literary unity of the book can still be made.8 2.1. The Texts “Female imagery frequently appears in Isaiah” (Darr 1994, 17). 9 The multiple reasons for this frequency are located within the collective 6. See for example the “Herr der Tiere” motif which is attested from the early third millennium B.C.E. down to the Persian period with an astonishing amount of geographic and chronologic variation. 7. On the diachronic usage of a metaphor in the Hebrew Bible, see Klingbeil 2010 (cf. also Klingbeil 1999, 10–11). 8. To mention just a few: Baloyi 2007; van Wieringen 2006; and Routledge 2004. Cf. also Klingbeil and Klingbeil 1999, and Carr 1993, 1996 for earlier references. 9. A comprehensive study on female metaphors in Isaiah can be found in a doctoral dissertation submitted to the University of Stellenbosch (de Beer 1988).

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cultural memory of the ancient Near East.10 Yet the book of Isaiah also extends female imagery from the human sphere into the divine realm, a relatively infrequent occurrence in the rest of the Hebrew Scriptures.11 Female metaphors of Yahweh in Isaiah are mainly concentrated in chs. 40–66 but refer back to female imagery established in the �rst part of Isaiah. Isaiah 1:2. ���� �� ��� ������� ���� ���� ���

Hear, O heavens, and listen, O earth; for the LORD has spoken:

�� ���� ��� ������� ����� ����

I reared children and brought them up, but they have rebelled against me.12

The raising of children in ancient Israel, expressed here through the Piel form of ��� and the Polel of ���,13 was initially the main task of the mother until the children reached adulthood (cf. Perdue 1997, 172; van der Toorn 1994, 27–28). In the context of covenant language,14 God 10. Darr suggests that the “frequency of female tropes in Isaiah largely results from the ancient Near Eastern practice of personifying cities as females and speaking of surrounding settlements, or inhabitants of the city itself, as her daughters” (1994, 23). On the motherhood of cities in the ancient Near East, see also Schmitt 1985. For a slightly different yet also culturally motivated perspective: “If parent is such an ideal metaphor for God, then the question must be raised, why is not Mother as powerful a metaphor for the Deity as Father? And if King works so well, why not Queen? One would have to point to the preferred characteristics listed above. While mother metaphors invoke nurturance, cultural norms mitigated against mothers providing inheritance, at least in the Jewish world. Mothers lacked the ultimate authority of fathers; the only feminine Biblical metaphor that involves punishment or destruction is the female bear rampaging after her children are killed. Mothers simply lacked the cultural power to map onto God, who has ultimate power” (DesCamp and Sweetser 2005, 234). 11. Texts offering female metaphors for Yahweh in the Hebrew Scriptures include: Exod 19:4; Deut 32:11 (God as a mother eagle), 18; Ps 90:2; Prov 8:26 (God giving birth); Job 38:28–30; Ps 131:2 (God as mother); Hos 13:8 (God as a mother bear defending her cubs); Ps 22:9–10 (God as a midwife). See McGregor Wright (2005, 296) for a discussion of these texts. 12. All translations follow NRSV unless otherwise noted. 13. Both verbs can have the connotation of bringing up children (2 Kgs 10:6; Isa 23:4; 49:21; 51:18; Hos 9:12) but are not necessarily limited to motherhood (Gen 12:2). Cf. Klingbeil and Klingbeil 1999. 14. The text is possibly a prophetic reference to the covenant made to Abraham in Gen 12:2 where ��� is used in the same way. For the usage of covenant terminology in the introduction of Isaiah, see Motyer 1993, 42. 1

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introduces himself metaphorically to Israel right at the outset of the prophetic book through imagery that has both female and male connotations, depicting God as mother or father. The parental metaphor itself is not explicitly gendered from a grammatical perspective. Yet, of the six passages in the Hebrew Scriptures where the Piel form of ��� is used to denote “raising children,”15 four are clearly embedded in female imagery.16 The idea of God as a mother in Isaiah can possibly be mapped to the prophet’s central imagery of Zion as the female city. Indeed Schmitt (1985, 569) has argued: “Zion as mother appears so frequently in Isa 40–66 [and also in Isa 1–39], that this image should be taken as the inspiration for the depiction of God as mother.” Isaiah 42:14. ����� ����� ����� ������

For a long time I have held my peace, I have kept still and restrained myself;

��� ����� ��� ���� ������

like a woman in labor I will groan out, I will pant and gasp.

God as a woman in labor17 produces one of the most vivid female images of God in the Hebrew Scriptures, evoking three culturally associated commonplaces of childbirth, namely, groaning (���) panting (���), and gasping (���). These are introduced by the simile ������ (“like a woman in labor”), which serves as a literary convention throughout the Hebrew Scriptures and indicates strong and profound emotions of fear, panic, and pain that are usually associated with impending warfare and siege.18 This proximity of the female metaphor to war imagery becomes clear by its contextual juxtaposition to the God as a warrior metaphor that is found in the preceding and following verses. In terms of the theophanic event,

15. 2 Kgs 10:6; Isa 1:2; 23:4; 49:21; 51:18; Hos 9:12. 16. For example: “Then you will say in your heart, ‘Who has borne me these? I was bereaved and barren, exiled and put away—so who has reared these? I was left all alone—where then have these come from?’ (Isa 49:21). Cf. also Isa 23:4; 51:18; Hos 9:12. 17. I will follow Soskice (1985, 59) in considering the literary trope of simile as used in this text to be functionally on the same level as metaphor: “Metaphor and simile, while textually different, are functionally the same.” For a more differentiated approach, see Darr 1994, 20–22. 18. Dille (2004, 57) discusses common threads among texts employing the ������ simile and notes that “most of the examples are suggestive, not just of bad news in general, but of the bad news of impending or current siege. The context nearly always involves the threat of an oncoming army, enemy warriors” (italics original).

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Yahweh is described as the heavenly warrior in Isa 42:13 and his destructive path continues in v. 15. In this case, however, it is Yahweh who is not only the warrior but also the woman in labor, which as in other texts usually denotes the reaction of those confronted by warfare. The apparent incongruence between the destructive warrior and the reproductive woman in labor metaphor can serve as an intentional ambiguity evoked by the overlapping commonplaces between both metaphors. As Dille (2004, 57) suggests, “A warrior is a very masculine �gure and destructive. A yoledah is a very feminine �gure, creative and life-giving. Yet the warrior is not only destructive; the warrior saves. Birth is not only creative, it is life-threatening…. YHWH destroys and creates.” Interestingly the juxtaposition of warrior and woman in labor metaphor is also found in Isa 13:6–8 (cf. also Isa 21:1–10) underlining the continuity of literary motifs across the different parts of the book (Darr 1994, 25–26). Isaiah 45:10. �������� ��� ��� ���

Woe to anyone who says to a father, “What are you begetting?”

��������� �����

or to a mother,19 “With what are you in labor?”

According to Gruber there is an explicit marker for gender in the text that serves as a reference to the metaphor of God as mother (Gruber 1983, 356–57). The reading of ��� as “mother” is not without dif�culties, but can be justi�ed on the basis of the gender-matched parallelism embedded in the poetic structure of the text (father/mother) and supported by the ancient versions.20 There is also the usage of the verbal root ��� (“be in labor, writhe, tremble”), which refers to the pains associated with childbirth in the Qal (Hamilton 1997). However, if one reads the imagery in its metaphorical context with the God as the artisan metaphor as developed in Isa 45:9–13, it becomes apparent that the emphasis is not so much on the mother metaphor in isolation, but rather on the imagery of the parental union between father and mother that leads to procreation through birth. Thus there is a continuity between the divine artisan who forms the clay and then gives birth to the creature. The creation terminology then continues into Isa 45:12 with reference to Cyrus (Dille 2004, 117; Foster 1994, 98–99). Yahweh is described in this text 19. At this point my translation deviates from NRSV’s “woman.” See discussion immediately following. 20. Notably, the LXX reads ����� in Isa 45:10.

1

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metaphorically in terms of the husband/wife or father/mother relationship, and the associated commonplaces are taken from the realm of procreation. Isaiah 46:3. ���� ��� ��� ���� ����� ��� ���������

Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel,

������ ������� ������ �������

who have been borne by me from your birth, carried from the womb;

The synonymous terms of ��� (“belly”) and ��� (“womb”) clearly underline the female imagery for God in this text. Yet the emphasis is not so much on the birth process but on the carrying of the helpless infant after birth. The gods of the nations, represented by the Babylonian gods Bel and Nebo, are carried by their emblem animals or by their worshippers during processions—or carried into safety during times of siege. In an ironic inversion of this imagery, God carries Israel around like a mother continuously carries her helpless infant. Extending the imagery beyond the expected (Isa 46:4), God as a mother continues to carry Israel right into Israel’s old age. Isaiah 49:15. ���� ���� ��� ����� �������

Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?

�� ����� ������ ������ �����

Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.

This remarkably explicit use of the female metaphor of Yahweh as mother is introduced by a double rhetoric question for which one would expect a negative response.21 As in Isa 45:10, ��� is used for mother in this text. The actions associated with this ��� clearly express the maternal commonplaces associated with the Yahweh as mother metaphor. The woman is a nursing mother since she has an ���, a “nursing 21. The translation of ���� in the MT is not without problems and various options have been suggested. Gruber emends the MT to ��� �� and translates the second colon: “Or a woman the child of her womb?” (1983, 355–56). However, the subject of the �rst colon (woman/mother) is implied elliptically in the second colon. Thus, when one focuses on the verbal parallelism at work in the line, it is clear that the Piel in�nitive ���� should be retained and is best translated along the lines of the NRSV.

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baby.” The image of the nursling evokes the strong bond that is formed between mother and child through breastfeeding, which generally lasted until the age of three in ancient Israel (Dille 2004, 137).22 The woman in Isa 49:15 is also a compassionate mother; the verb used to describe her showing compassion (����) is, of course, related etymologically to the word “womb” (��� �). � 23 Indeed, the emotion of having compassion is deeply seated in female imagery through this association with the mother’s womb. However, the female metaphor for God once more moves beyond the expected. The unthinkable is possible, that is, a human mother may sometimes forget or abandons her child (cf. Deut 28:53–57; 2 Kgs 6:24–29; Jer 19:9; Lam 4:3–4). Yet Yahweh as a mother does not forget. Thus the metaphor is strengthened by the incongruity between the stereotyped commonplace (the love of a mother for an infant) and the disintegration of it (a human mother could forget), which is then contrasted with Yahweh’s positive motherhood.24 Isaiah 66:9. ���� ����� ��� ����� ���� ����

Shall I open the womb and not deliver? says the LORD;

��� ������ ������ ������ �����

shall I, the one who delivers, shut the womb? says your God.

The text portrays Yahweh as a midwife, with two verbal roots (����, here “bring to birth, break open” and ����, “deliver”)25 referring to the process leading up to the moment of birth. Again, the metaphor is phrased in terms of a double rhetorical question. As much as the process of birth as induced by the midwife cannot be stopped, Yahweh will not stop the process of restoring and blessing Zion (Isa 66:10–11).

22. Cf. also Deut 32:13, where Yahweh is compared to a nursing mother. 23. Cf. Klingbeil and Klingbeil (1999, 56): “Una segunda clave conectando la compasión con el vientre en Isaías puede ser encontrado en Isa. 49:15 donde el profeta formula la pregunta retórica si una mujer puede olvidar [lo cual equivale a no tener compasión] con el ‘hijo de su vientre’.” 24. See Dille’s comments (2004, 149): “YHWH is clearly compared to a mother in 49.13 [sic]. But YHWH is not so much equated with a mother as shown to be more compassionate than a mother. As has been noted above, even the most negative portrayals of mothers are rooted in the most powerful images of love, care, and compassion available.” 25. This is the only occurrence where this meaning for ��� is attested; however, in Isa 37:2 the related noun ����, “mouth of womb,” is used accordingly. Cf. also 2 Kgs 19:3; Hos 13:3. 1

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Isaiah 66:13. ������ ��� ��� ���� �������� ������ ���� �� �����

As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.

As a �nal text employing a female metaphor for God, Isa 66:13 describes God once more as a mother who will comfort her child. The threefold usage of ����, “comfort,” recalls the promised comfort in Isa 40:1. Following the image of God as a midwife, this time the author uses as the unambiguous descriptor ��, “mother,” for his gendered imagery for Yahweh. 2.2. Metaphor Pro�ling Though female metaphors for God in Isaiah are found throughout the book, they are concentrated in chs. 40–66. They interact and overlap with a number of other gendered metaphors (e.g., father, husband, or artisan) mainly within the domain of familial imagery.26 This mixing of metaphors creates a broad spectrum of meanings that often go far beyond the expected. This, in a way, is the essence of metaphor decoding (cf. Klingbeil 2010, 116–23). The liberal usage of female imagery has to be understood within this context.27 In pro�ling the female metaphors for God in Isaiah together with their associated sub-metaphors as identi�ed in the texts, the following picture emerges (cf. Klingbeil 2009, 209–15).

26. As for why Isaiah used familial metaphors, Dille suggests: “The language of family is the language rootedness, of past and future, of identity and belonging, and the language of home. The language of childbirth evokes new life, and thus continuity, into a new generation as creation continues” (2004, 176–77). 27. The usage of metaphor as God-talk is pragmatic in that it relates the unknown to the known, but it does not necessarily make the unknown subject to the known. McGregor Wright (2005, 300) observes: “Our conclusion must be that there are no biblical grounds for the controlling in�uence of the ideas of ‘masculinity’ and ‘femininity’ for our understanding of God’s essential nature. God is a he because God is personal and “our Father” because God acts like a loving father. He is neither male nor female, nor a combination of both. Notions of a gendered God are intrinsic to a variety of paganisms, but are absent from a fully biblical Christianity” (original emphasis).

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Image, Text, Exegesis

Metaphor Mother

Woman in labor

Midwife

Sub-metaphor raising children bringing up children having rebellious children bearing children carrying children nursing children showing compassion for children not forgetting children comforting children groaning panting gasping writhing breaking open the womb delivering a baby

Reference 1:2 1:2 1:2 46:3 46:3 49:15 49:15 49:15 66:13 42:14 42:14 42:14 45:10 66:9 66:9

The prevailing metaphor is God as a mother and the two other metaphors (woman in labor and midwife) are closely related to the experience of motherhood in focusing on the process of childbirth. With that, we have established the pool of female imagery in the book of Isaiah that will serve as the basis for comparing the literary images with material images of goddesses from the ancient Near East. 3. The Syro-Palestinian Goddess Asherah There has been a torrent of scholarship on Asherah since the discovery of the images and inscriptions found at Kuntillet �Ajrud in the 1970s.28 Most of these have focused on the textual evidence in both the Hebrew Bible and ancient Near East. Yet some studies have also discussed the iconographic evidence. Notable among these is Cornelius’s work (2004), which has provided a more systematic catalogue of images of Asherah. Since Isaiah makes mention of the goddess in two instances, both times in a negative context (Isa 17:8; 27:9), it is especially interesting to compare the female metaphors for God in the book of Isaiah with iconographic depictions of the Syro-Palestinian goddess Asherah that Cornelius has helped establish. While both of the texts in Isaiah appear

28. For a recent assessment of Asherah studies see Cornelius (2009) and Wiggins (2007). See also Hadley (2000). For an archaeological perspective, see Byrne (2004). 1

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to refer to ����� as cult objects, the point can be made that the objects served as representations of the goddess (even though both references are in the masculine plural).29 Thanks to Cornelius’s work, there is now an adequate platform for comparing the iconographic pro�le of Asherah with the metaphoric pro�le of divine female imagery developed above.30 3.1. The Images Iconographic depictions of deities from the ancient Near East seldom come with labels that identify them. Thus the images selected for the present study need to correspond to an established iconographic typology in order to allow for a positive identi�cation of the goddess under question. The need is all the more pronounced when one takes into consideration the fact that “in contrast to the other goddesses, no iconographic item has yet come to light with her [i.e., Asherah’s] name on it.”31 All iconographic interpretations about the goddess must therefore remain somewhat tentative. Furthermore, as the historical transmission of iconographic motifs is often characterized by a continuous re-use of older motifs, the chronological margins for the present study are rather loosely identi�ed, going as far back as the late second millennium B.C.E. and reaching down to the end of the Iron Age. 3.2. Image Pro�ling In order to pro�le the iconographic depictions of Asherah across a millennium, the description of each object is kept to a minimum. One can �nd a more detailed discussion of the objects in the references listed below. The emphasis is on describing typological characteristics following a rough chronological sequence.

29. Hadley makes a case for Asherah as referring both to a goddess and her image in the Hebrew Bible and traces the evolution of the term through the Hebrew Scriptures (2000, 7–8). See also Wyatt’s comments (1999, 103): “The Isaianic reference to the asherah is thus fully aware of the dangerous power of the goddess. Her reality is not in question, and the distinction between deity and cult object is ultimately not an ancient, but a modern one.” 30. For example: Winter 1983; Hadley 2000; Frevel 1955 (see Cornelius); Wiggins 2001 (see Cornelius); Keel and Uehlinger 1992; Cornelius 2004. 31. Cornelius 2004, 99. Cornelius is the only recent study that attempts such a typology: “The aim of the study was to collect original iconographic sources on the goddesses Anat, Asherah, Astarte and Qedeshet and provide an iconographical typology” (2004, 7; cf. Cornelius 2009).

older female standing; long dress with rolled border; right hand extended in blessing; left hand missing but possibly extended forward

standing goddess Asherah giving blessing

Asherah blessing the gods and people32

Interpretation

bronze; Ugarit; LBA (Cornelius 2004, pl. 3.9)

bronze �gure; Ugarit; LBA (Cornelius 2004, pl. 2.5)

Object Data

Image (images are used with permission)

2

1

Fig. No.

32. The posture and gesture seems to be in assimilation of characteristics of Ilu, head of the Ugaritic pantheon and consort of Asherah. Cornelius (2004, 32) notes that: “A bronze �gurine from Ugarit shows him with a similar cloak, atef crown and making a blessing gesture.”

female �gure in Egyptian dress; atef-crown; collar around neck; right hand blessing; left hand holds (lost) object

Iconographic Elements

seated goddess

Typology

nude upper body; full skirt; holding plants or grain; �anked by two goats reared on hind legs with front legs on mountain; diadem and necklace; intricate hairstyle (Cornelius 2004, 110–11)

seated goddess

cylinder seal; hematite; sixteenth– �fteenth century B.C.E. (Cornelius 2004, pl. 2.2) raised relief on ivory box-cover; Minet elBeida (Ugarit); fourteenth century B.C.E. (Cornelius 2004, pl. 2.7)

Asherah as mistress of the animals33

Asherah as mistress of the animals34

4

3

1

33. Cornelius (2004, 31) cautiously suggests this identi�cation while others have identi�ed her as Anat because of her wings. 34. Not in line with this interpretation is the iconographic element that the goddess appears to be feeding the animals (Cornelius 2004, 33–34).

winged female sitting on reclining steer; long dress; horned helmet; one hand holding a lion on a leash; other hand on the steer’s mouth

seated goddess

Asherah represented by pubic triangle37

two caprids36 facing an inverted red triangle strewn with black dots

stylized tree goddess goblet; Lachish; thirteenth century B.C.E. (Keel 1998, �g. 50)

clay bulla; Tell Fekheryeh; thirteenth century B.C.E. (Cornelius 2004, pl. 2.2)

6

5

35. Keel and Uehlinger (1992) have identi�ed the goddess as Baal’s consort Anat, but there are no warrior-like elements present and the interpretation is in line with the previous examples (Cornelius 2004, 31). 36. Caprids have been depicted in ancient Near Eastern iconography since the Middle Bronze IIA, representing power, virility, and, in combination with the goddess, also fertility (cf. Keel and Uehlinger 1992, 21–22). 37. The interpretation of the triangle is in line with other comparative material (Keel 1998, 34).

Asherah blessing Baal35

female in sitting position facing right; long dress; long lock of hair; rounded cap; holding a bird-staff; other hand extended in gesture of blessing; facing a male �gure in a striding menacing pose

seated goddess

1

stylized tree �anked by caprids; lion, stag, deer on the shoulder of the jug; inscription above animals and tree

naked female; long drawnout locks; two sucklings at her breasts, emphasized pubic triangle; stylized trees with caprids on each side of her

stylized tree �anked by two caprids

stylized tree goddess

standing goddess

stylized tree goddess

stamp seal; Taanach; twelfth–eleventh century B.C.E. (Keel 1998, �g. 67)

terracotta plaque �gurine; Aphek; thirteenth century B.C.E. (Keel 1998, �g. 52)

Asherah as nursing mother together with her representation by stylized trees

Asherah represented by the stylized tree

jug; Lachish; thirteenth–twelfth century B.C.E. (Keel 1998, �g. 49)

Asherah represented by the stylized tree

9

8

7

stem of spoon as stylized tree; on reverse side is a female face framed by two doves

stylized tree goddess

terracotta cult stand; Taanach; tenth century B.C.E. (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, �g. 184)

ivory spoon; Hazor; eighth century B.C.E. (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, �gs. 214a, 214c)

Asherah represented by the stylized tree and as mistress of the wilderness

Asherah represented by the stylized tree and as mistress of the wilderness

11

10

38. The association of Asherah with both the stylized tree �anked by caprids and the lions is attested from the LBA. See Keel’s comments (1998, 42): “Late Bronze age gold pendants show a naked anthropomorphic goddess holding a caprid in each hand and standing on a lion.”

stylized tree �anked by two caprids in third frieze; goddess between two lions in �rst frieze38

stylized tree goddess

stylized palm tree �anked by two �gures dancing around the tree

stylized tree goddess

Asherah with worshippers

Asherah represented by the stylized tree

Stamp seal; unknown provenance; seventh century B.C.E. (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, �g. 233b)

storage jar; Kuntillet �Ajrud; eighth century B.C.E. (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, �g. 219)

13

12

1

39. I only describe here the iconographic elements relevant to the present study. However, the composition is much more complex and has been discussed extensively: “Schon ein �üchtiger Blick…zeigt, daß die verschiedenen Malereien auf je einer Krugseite jeweils keine kohärente Komposition darstellen, sondern aus weitgehend parataktisch neben- bzw. übereinander gesetzten Einzelmotiven bestehen” (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, 240). It appears, however, that the lion forms part of the smaller composition together with the stylized tree and caprids, as has become apparent from the previous examples. The other important aspect of the Kuntillet �Ajrud discussion is the fact that inscription and images are not necessarily linked to each other, a phenomenon which is frequently observed in ancient Near Eastern iconography, so Hadley (2000, 155): “This haphazard treatment of the vessel may further strengthen the argument that the site was visited by a diversity of people and that none of the inscriptions or drawings can necessarily be considered to go together.”

stylized tree with lotus�owers �anked by two caprids; below a striding lion39

stylized tree goddess

seated man before a stylized tree

stylized tree goddess

Asherah with worshipper40

Asherah with worshipper

clay relief; En-Gedi; seventh century B.C.E. (Keel 1998, �g. 95)

scarab; Tell el-Far�ah (S); eighth century B.C.E. (Keel 1998, �g. 84)

15

14

40. Keel (1998, 46) summarizes the motif of the person/deity seated in front of the stylized tree: “The motif stresses the age old Near Eastern concept of the tree as a symbol and signal of the presence of a divine power, namely of prosperity and blessing, which ultimately resides in the earth.”

worshipper with one hand uplifted before truncated tree

stylized tree goddess

hollow pillar �gurine; female with infant on the back; one hand possibly offering breast

standing goddess Asherah as nursing mother goddess

Asherah as nursing mother goddess41

clay �gurine; Tell Beit Mirsim; seventh century B.C.E. (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, �g. 326)

clay �gurine; Lachish; seventh century B.C.E. (Keel and Uehlinger 1992, �g. 321a)

17

16

1

41. The pillar-shape is not ichnographically related to the tree-symbolism. For an extensive discussion of the pillar �gurines, see Keel and Uehlinger (1992, 370–85).

hollow pillar �gurine; naked female offering her breasts; wide-opened eyes, curled hairstyle

standing goddess

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Image, Text, Exegesis

If one tries to sketch Syro-Palestinian Asherah iconography through roughly one thousand years, one notices a progression from more concrete depictions towards abstractions with highly symbolic content.42 The iconographic motif dwindles and disappears towards the end of the Iron Age IIC.43 In this period, the major themes are Asherah’s role as a mother goddess who blesses, provides fertility, and nurses the newborn. 4. Conclusion: Mapping Metaphor and Material Image In an attempt to map the literary image to the material image, the following table shows the areas of overlap between metaphor and iconographic representation: Literary Image Material Image SubReference Typology Iconographic Reference metaphor Elements God as a bearing Isa 46.3 standing female with �g. 17 mother children goddess infant on the back God as a carrying standing female with �g. 17 Isa 46.3 mother goddess infant on the children back Isa 49.15 standing two sucklings �gs. 8, 16, God as a nursing mother goddess at her breast 17 children (possibly) offering her breast Metaphor

Clearly, the God as a mother metaphor �nds its corollaries in Asherah iconography. One could argue further that the other two metaphors (God as a woman in labor and God as a midwife) are implicit as they are related to motherhood in the ancient Near East. However, if one takes a closer look at the submetaphors it is mainly the nursing children imagery that �nds its closest representation in the iconographic evidence. Beyond that, one can also perceive a number of important differences between the literary images and material images. The focus of iconographic 42. The pillar �gurines seem to reintroduce concrete elements towards the end of the period under question. However, the almost normative format of the objects reinforces their symbolic value. 43. Beyond the seventh century B.C.E. Keel and Uehlinger (1992, 412) comment on the continuance of the iconographic Asherah tradition: “Der Aschera war in Juda und Jerusalem keine Zukunft beschieden.” 1

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depictions of Asherah lies in the realm of virility and fertility, emphasized through the depictions of female sexual markers (�gs. 3, 6, 8, 16, and 17) and her representation in the stylized tree imagery along with her close association with the two caprids (�gs. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 12).44 Virility and fertility are the blessings the goddess bestows on her worshippers (�gs. 1, 2, and 5). By contrast, the God as a mother metaphor in Isaiah focuses on God’s relationship to his children (Israel) and the pain related to child-bearing, which becomes a metaphor for the relationship between Yahweh and Israel. Then the metaphor moves to the carrying and nurturing of the young children. Such a metaphor is used as a further pedagogical device for Israel. At various points, the metaphors go beyond the commonplaces associated with ancient Near Eastern motherhood (see Isa 42:14; 46:3; 49:15); as Darr asserts, “each image shifts from stereotypical meaning to fresh connotations” (1994, 30). It is this pattern that might also shed some light on the relationship between the biblical metaphor and the iconographic material. A number of studies have alluded to the shocking impact female metaphors of God must have had on their ancient readers, especially from the perspective that images of God in the Hebrew Scriptures are predominantly maleoriented.45 I would, however, suggest that the intent was not necessarily to shock the audience. Rather, the intent was to employ familiar imagery from the cultural environment and �ll it with new contents, deductively working from the known to the unknown. Ancient Israelites living in Iron Age Syro-Palestine were probably well acquainted with Asherah images and/or representations, and Isaiah’s polemics against the ����� illustrates the point. Therefore, female imagery applied to Yahweh would 44. Keel (1998, 46) comments: “The motif [‘human sitting in front of a tree’] stresses the age old Near Eastern concept of the tree as a symbol and signal of the presence of divine power, namely of prosperity and blessing, which ultimately resides in the earth.” 45. Dille (2004, 68) describes the impact of two rather inconsistent metaphors, i.e., the woman in labor alongside the warrior metaphor: “Here in Deutero-Isaiah, the application of the simile of the woman in labor to the divine warrior seems shocking.” However, DesCamps and Sweetser (2005, 236) question the shock that the metaphor would have elicited: “Is the criterion for a good metaphor one that shocks? It would appear not necessarily so. The criterion for a good God-metaphor—at least one which will have staying power within our culture—would seem to be the ability to ful�l the human need to see God in terms of certain salient characteristics. It may be that we don’t have available to us metaphors which will satisfy all these characteristics. It may be that until ‘mother,’ for instance, carries the same cultural weight and power that ‘father’ does, it will continue to be an inadequate substitute at the cognitive level.”

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not necessarily have surprised them. What might have been surprising, however, was the fact that female imagery of Yahweh focused on quite different themes than Asherah images. The lack of semantic overlap between the metaphors and the iconography of Asherah could indeed serve to highlight the differences between Yahweh and the goddess.46 Bibliography Baloyi, M. E. 2007. The Unity of the Book Isaiah: Neglected Evidence (Re-)considered. Old Testament Essays 20:105–27. Bjørndalen, A. J. 1986. Untersuchungen zur allegorischen Rede der Propheten Amos und Jesaja. BZAW 165. Berlin: de Gruyter. Brümmer, V. 2003. Metaphor and the Reality of God. Pages 77–86 in Comparative Theology: Essays for Keith Ward. Edited by T. W. Bartel. London: SPCK. Byrne, R. 2004. Lie Back and Think of Judah: The Reproductive Politics of Pillar Figurines. NEA 67:137–51. Caird, G. B. 1980. The Language and Imagery of the Bible. Philadelphia: Westminster. Carr, D. 1993. Reaching for Unity in Isaiah. JSOT 57:61–80. ———. 1996. Reading Isaiah from Beginning (Isaiah 1) to End (Isaiah 65–66): Multiple Modern Possibilities. Pages 188–218 in New Visions of Isaiah. Edited by R. F. Melugin and M. A. Sweeney. JSOTSup 214. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Academic. Cornelius, I. 2004. The Many Faces of the Goddess: The Iconography of the SyroPalestinian Goddesses Anat, Astarte, Qedeshet, and Asherah, c. 1500–1000 BCE. OBO 204. Fribourg: University Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2009. In Search of the Goddess in Ancient Palestinian Iconography. Pages 77–98 in Israel zwischen den Mächten. Festschrift für Stefan Timm zum 65. Geburtstag. AOAT 364. Edited by M. Pietsch and F. Hartenstein. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. de Beer, R. J. 1988. Die funksie en betekenis van vroulike metafore vir die stad, land en volk van Jahwe in die boeke Jesaja, Jermia en Esegiël. D.Th. diss., University of Stellenbosch. de Hulster, I. J. 2008. Illuminating Images: An Iconographic Method of Old Testament Exegesis with Three Case Studies from Third Isaiah. Ph.D. diss., University of Utrecht. ———. 2009. Iconographic Exegesis and Third Isaiah. FAT 2/36. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. DesCamp, M. T., and E. Sweetser. 2005. Metaphors for God: Why and How Do Our Choices Matter for Humans? The Application of Contemporary Cognitive Linguistics Research to the Debate on God and Metaphor. Pastoral Psychol 53:207– 38.

46. I readily grant that the selection of iconographic depictions of Asherah for the comparative material of this study is somewhat limiting, since one could also have referred to other Syro-Palestinian goddesses such as Qudshu, Astarte, or Qedeshet. However, Isaiah’s mention of the ����� provided an open invitation to pursue this particular approach. 1

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Dille, S. 2004. Mixing Metaphors: God as Mother and Father in Deutero-Isaiah. JSOTSup 398. London: T&T Clark International. Foster, J. A. 1994. The Use of �yl as God-Language in the Hebrew Scriptures. Pages 93– 102 in Uncovering Ancient Stones: Essays in Memory of H. Neil Anderson. Edited by Lewis M. Hoppe. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Frevel, C. 1995. Aschera und der Ausschließlichkeitsanspruch YHWHs. Beiträge zu literarischen, religionsgeschichtlichen und ikonographischen Aspekten der Ascheradiskussion. BBB 94. Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum. Gruber, M. I. 1983. The Motherhood of God in Second Isaiah. RB 90: 351–59. Hadley, J. M. 2000. The Cult of Asherah in Ancient Israel and Judah: Evidence for a Hebrew Goddess. UCOP 57. Cambridge: University Press. Hamilton, V. 1997. “���.” Page 116 in vol. 2 of New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. Edited by W. VanGemeren. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Keel, O. 1972. Die Welt der altorientalischen Bildsymbolik und das Alte Testament. Am Beispiel der Psalmen. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. ———. 1998. Goddesses and Trees, New Moon and Yahweh. Ancient Near Eastern Art and the Hebrew Bible. JSOTSup 261. Shef�eld: Shef�eld Academic Press. Keel, O., and C. Uehlinger. 1992. Go�ttinnen, Go�tter und Gottessymbole: neue Erkenntnisse zur Religionsgeschichte Kanaans und Israels aufgrund bislang unerschlossener ikonographischer Quellen. QD 134. Freiburg: Herder. Klingbeil, M. G. 1999. Yahweh Fighting from Heaven: God as a Warrior and as God of Heaven in the Hebrew Psalter and Ancient Near Eastern Iconography. OBO 169. Fribourg: University Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2007. ‘I will be satis�ed with seeing your likeness’ (Ps 17:15 NIV)—Between Metaphor and Icon: Relating the Literal to the Literary Image. Paper presented at the Annual Congress of the European Association of Biblical Studies. Vienna, Austria. July 22–26. ———. 2009. Mapping the Literary to the Literal Image: A Comparison Between Submetaphors of the Heavenly Warrior Metaphor in the Hebrew Psalter and Iconographic Elements of the Storm- and Warrior-god Ba�al in Ancient Near Eastern Iconography. WO 39:205–22. ———. 2010. Metaphors that Travel and (Almost) Vanish: Mapping Diachronic Changes in the Intertextual Usage of the Heavenly Warrior Metaphor in Psalms 18 and 144. Pages 115–34 in Metaphors in the Psalms. Edited by P. van Hecke and A. Labahn. BETL 231. Leuven: Peeters. Klingbeil, G. A., and C. J. Klingbeil. 1999. Metáforas femeninas de Dios en Isaías— Re�exiones sobre la hermenéutica de la teología feminista. Theo 14:38–65. Macky, P. W. 1990. The Centrality of Metaphors to Biblical Thought: A Method for Interpreting the Bible. SBEC 19. Lewiston: Edwin Mellen. McGregor Wright, R. K. 2005. God, Metaphor and Gender: Is the God of the Bible a Male Deity? Pages 287–300 in Discovering Biblical Equality: Complementarity Without Hierarchy. Edited by R. W. Pierce and R. Merrill Groothuis. Downers Grove: InterVarsity. Motyer, J. A. 1993. The Prophecy of Isaiah. Downers Grove: InterVarsity. Perdue, L. G. 1997. The Israelite and Early Jewish Family: Summary and Conclusions. Pages 163–222 in Families in Ancient Israel. The Family, Religion, and Culture. Edited by L. G. Perdue et al. Louisville: Westminster John Knox.

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P�sterer Darr, K. 1994. Two Unifying Female Images in the Book of Isaiah. Pages 17–30 in Uncovering Ancient Stones: Essays in Memory of H. Neil Anderson. Edited by L. M. Hoppe. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Routledge, R. 2004. Is There a Narrative Substructure Underlying the Book of Isaiah? TynBul 55:183–204. Schmitt, J. J. 1985. The Motherhood of God and Zion as Mother. RB 92:567–68. Schroer, S., and O. Keel. 2005. Vom ausgehenden Mesolithikum bis zur Frühbronzezeit. Vol. 1 of Die Ikonographie Palästinas/Israels und der Alte Orient. Eine Religionsgeschichte in Bildern. Edited by S. Schroer and O. Keel. Fribourg: Academic Press. Soskice, J. M. 1985. Metaphor and Religious Language. Oxford: Clarendon Press. van der Toorn, K. 1994. From Her Cradle to Her Grave: The Role of Religion in the Life of the Israelite and Babylonian Woman. BiSe 23. Translated by S. J. Denning-Bolle. Shef�eld: JSOT Press. van Wieringen, A. L. H. M. 2006. The Reader-oriented Unity of the Book of Isaiah. ACEBTSup 6. Vught: Skandalon. Wiggins, S. A. 2001. Of Asherahs and Trees: Some Methodological Questions. JANER 1:158–87. ———. 2007. A Reassessment of Asherah: With Further Considerations of the Goddess. GUS 2. Piscataway: Gorgias. Winter, U. 1983. Frau und Go�ttin: Exegetische und ikonographische Studien zum weiblichen Gottesbild im alten Israel und in dessen Umwelt. OBO 53. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Wyatt, N. 1999. Asherah. Pages 99–105 in Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Edited by K. van der Toorn, B. Becking, and P. W. van der Horst. 2d ed. Leiden: Brill.

1

IMAGES OF JUSTIFICATION* Thomas Staubli

Justi�cation, in theological terms, means having the right to stand before God. A successful audience with God proves that a person has found divine favor. The justi�ed person is free from any suspicion of godlessness, for the successful audience con�rms that the person does not belong to the forces of chaos against which God �ghts. Inasmuch as every successful audience resembles passing a test, justi�cation bears the characteristics of judgment. This aspect can be in the foreground, but not necessarily so. Also, the initiative for an audience can come either from man or from God. Justi�cation in the Old Testament The question of whether a person is justi�ed to stand before God’s face is indeed a very old and important question within the theological disciplines. There are, however, several problems with the way the discussion of justi�cation has typically been framed. First of all, the discourse has been heavily dominated by Christology. Less than 2% of the exegetical literature on justi�cation considers the question from an Old Testament perspective, let alone a more general ancient Near Eastern perspective.1 Most often, justi�cation is discussed in the form of a commentary on Pauline theology. Indeed, the term “justi�cation” has been so strongly associated with Christian theology that it seems as if the thing it denominates is hardly present in the Old Testament (First Testament). Yet, the subject of the justi�cation of man before God is actually central to the Old Testament. In fact, we know from b. Mak. 15, a Talmudic treatise that treats penance, that it was * This article is an abbreviated and updated version of my article “Alttestamentliche Konstellationen der Rechtfertigung des Menschen vor Gott” (Staubli 2010). I thank Christopher Dickinson for assisting with the translation. 1. According to my keyword search in http://www.uibk.ac.at/bildi/bildi/search/ index.html (in September 2008) only 8 of 444 articles broach the issue of justi�cation in the context of the Old Testament or/and the ancient Near East. The keyword is absent in RlA and the like (Steiner 2012).

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Image, Text, Exegesis

possible to understand Hab 2:4, “The righteous live by their faith,” as a unique condensation of justi�cation theology outside of the PaulineChristian scheme of interpretation. This example suggests a doctrinal tradition about justi�cation in which the New Testament, and thereby Paul’s teachings, played no role. The second problem with the nature of the discourse about justi�cation in the Old Testament is its association with the heavily individualistic and moralistic ethics of much Christian theology. Such ethical systems mostly neglect the cult and, therefore, also the collective effects of injustice. By exploring the cultic concept of the priesthood, Jacob Milgrom has shown how sin can lead to a contamination of the sanctuary, the realm of God. This contamination leads to a gradual weakening and, in extreme cases, the disappearance of divine blessing (or, put differently, to God turning away or covering God’s face), unless atonement is made through the proper means (Milgrom 1991, 258–61). An understanding of justi�cation is impossible without this cultic-collective dimension. The third problem, �nally, is the narrowing of the modern discourse to an abstract discussion �xated on ideas. In the ancient Near East, by contrast, legal, moral, and ethical topics were never discussed in abstract, philosophical terms. Instead, these issues always had a very concrete Sitz im Leben. By locating the discourse about justi�cation corporally and spatially, we take into account the ancient Near Eastern way of thinking, a mode of thought that assumes that texts and images are indeed comparable with one another. Following Jan Assmann (1977; 1982, 14), we will study the constellative content of justi�cation and attempt to uncover its tradition history. We will see that the topic of the successful divine audience appears in many forms in the ancient Near East and therefore also in the Old Testament. We can classify these forms into four basic patterns: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Justi�cation through divine or human intercession Justi�cation through sacri�ce Justi�cation through sonship Justi�cation through divine virtue 1. Justi�cation Through Divine or Human Intercession

The temple is nothing more than a cultically elevated palace. Likewise, the divine audience usually has a correspondence to courtly customs, taking place with the help of “door openers” through recommendation, that is, intercession. One can trace this motif diachronically through numerous iconographic variations in the so-called introduction or 1

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audience scenes. The introduction scenes that arose in the Akkadian period can be found especially on cylinder seals (Haussperger 1991). These scenes show a cultic ceremony that enables a person, through intermediation and intercession by a divine envoy or a higher-ranking person, to stand before the highest divine or dei�ed authority. The granting of an audience by the deity proves that the person to whom audience was granted was justi�ed by the deity. The deity has legitimized his or her status, and the propagation of the scene through images underscores this status. One of the oldest seals bearing this type of scene is the seal of Gudea of Lagash (���� �). Gudea, the bare-headed �gure identi�ed in the inscription, is followed by the Lamma-goddess with her hands typically elevated for intercession, along with a dragon-like chimera. The ruler is led by the hand by Ningishzida, the personal tutelary deity of Gudea. Two dragon heads sprout from Ningishzida’s shoulders, and he is touching a vase held by the enthroned god Ningirsu, here in the role of the sweet-water god Enki. Water pours out of the vase and a plant grows from the top of it. This is only one of countless variations of the audience or introduction scene, but the Lamma-goddess is almost always present. As a kind of omnipresent guardian angel she seems to elude a clear hierarchical placement. Most likely, she thereby re�ects a gender-typical function of a woman (that is, a priestess) at court, whose intermediation was indispensable for the recognition of authority. She was most probably an intemediator because she was less strongly tied to rules of etiquette than royal men or gods.2

Figure 1. Reconstruction of the seal of Gudea of Lagash based on two fragmentary seal impressions. Tello. End of twenty-�rst century B.C.E. Louvre AO 3541 und 3542 (Delaporte 1920, 12–13, �gure on p. 12, for the photos of the seal’s impressions see plate 10, �gures 8 and 10; cf. Suter 2000, 54, �g. 9). Used with permission. 2. The role of Lamma can instead be taken by Kulullû or by the naked goddess on Syrian cylinder seals.

Job

Job 42:7–10 Aischylos, Eumenids

1 Macc 14:25–49

12

13 14

15

Simon Maccabee

Eliphas, Bildad, Zophar Electra, Orestes

Job

No. Text Justi�ed 1. Justi�cation through divine or human intercession 1 Gilg XI 181–98 Utnapishtim 2 Isa 6:1–8 Isaiah 3 Gen 18:17–33 Lot’s clan 4 Gen 6–9 Noah’s clan 5 Exod 32:30–31 Hebrews 6 1 Sam 12:19–25 People of Israel 7 Num 11 People of Israel 8 Num 12:10–15 Miriam 9 Num 14:13–20 People of Israel 10 Num 20:6 People of Israel 11 Zech 3:1–10 Joshua Ea Seraphim Abraham YHWH Moses Samuel Moses Moses, Aaron Moses, Aaron Moses, Aaron Messenger of YHWH, Satan, the �amudim (Zechariah) Satan + sons of God + Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar Job Apollon; Athena + democratic court Demetrius II + people of Israel + future prophet

Mediator, Redeemer

YHWH Zeus (Dike); Eumeniden (Erinyen) “Great assembly?” of the Jews

YHWH

Enlil, Nintu YHWH Sabaoth YHWH Elohim YHWH YHWH YHWH YHWH YHWH YHWH YHWH Sabaoth

Instance of Justi�cation

Table 1. Types of Justi�cation in Selected Biblical, Ancient Near Eastern, and Greek Texts (arranged in approximate chronological order)

1

2 Macc 7; 4 Macc Last supper in the synoptic tradition 27 Passion of Christ in the gospels 28 Heb 6–7 29 Sura 37:99–113 3. Justi�cation through sonship 30 Ps 2; Isa 7:14 31 Luke 2:1–39; Matt 2:13–23; Prot. Jas. 32 Q 3:21–22

25 26

YHWH Abba (God)

�almah Gabriel, Maria

John the Baptist; Holy Spirit in Abba (God) the shape of a dove

Messiah Jesus of Nazareth Jesus of Nazareth

Sinners Ibrahim

Abba (God)

God Abba (God)

YHWH YHWH YHWH Artemis

God YHWH Priest (YHWH) Priest (YHWH) YHWH/Elohim

Abba (God) Allah

maš�ulduppu Food offering (min�ah) Hairy (of the goats) Hairy (Isaac) messenger of YHWH, ram Jephthah’s daughter karet of the Exodus-generation (Just) slave of YHWH (Iphigenia) ef�gy, doe, bear, bull Martyrs Bread and wine INRI, Christ (lamb of God), priest Christ as High priest (Son) ram

Sinners Poor around Jesus during his last Passover meal Sinners

Jephthah Exodus-generation “Many” Agamemnon, Hellenes

21 22 23 24

Judg 11:29–40 Num 14:21–35; 26:64–65 Isa 53 Iphigenia

Tomb Poor Clan’s head Israelite Abraham

2. Justi�cation through sacri�ce 16 Gilg VIII (iv?) 12–13 17 Lev 2 18 Lev 4:22–26 19 Lev 4:27–35 20 Gen 22:1–19

People of Israel Just Abraham Solomon (man) Oedipus Community of truth Jews, Greeks Nations

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Jer 31:31–34 Hab 2:4 Gen 15:6 Eccl Sophokles, Oedipus Colonos Essenes (1QS 3:8; 1QHf 2:13) Rom 1:17 Matt 25:31–46

Job Praying man People of Israel

4. Justi�cation through divine virtue 33 Job 31 34 Ps 7 35 Deut 9:5 Justice Upright heard; justice Wickedness of the nations; promise made on oath to the ancestors Heart with law, incised by God Faith Faith Joy Charis Holy Spirit Faith Works of mercy YHWH (YHWH) YHWH God (Elohim) (gods) God God Son of man; angel

(YHWH) YHWH YHWH

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For over a thousand years, from the Old Akkadian period to the beginning of the Kassite period, introduction scenes are an important constellation of images on cylinder seals. Indeed, during the NeoSumerian and Old Babylonian periods, this constellation could be described as a dominant one. It is therefore hardly surprising that the constellation of images in the introduction scene is re�ected textually in the Hebrew Bible as well (see table 1), particularly in Zech 3:1–7 (table 1, no. 11), which describes the investiture of the High Priest Joshua as a means of rehabilitation (Willi-Plein 2007, 82). Joshua is defended and therefore justi�ed by YHWH’s messenger (in the role of the Lamma) against the accuser Satan (cf. the dragon in �����). He is newly clothed and, in the presence of the ����� (Zech 3:7), he is appointed as judge and guardian over his house in Jerusalem by YHWH Sabaoth (�lling the role of the enthroned high god).3 The justi�cation of Job (Job 42:7–10; table 1, no. 13) takes place in the packed celestial audience hall. Although the scenery is not speci�cally mentioned in the last chapter, it can be assumed implicitly (cf. Job 1; table 1, no. 12). What proves to be devastating for Job is that there is no one, neither among the sons of God nor among his friends, who is willing to speak for his justi�cation before YHWH. They all take advantage of their role as potential intercessors and self-righteously put Job’s own righteousness into question. Nevertheless, Job is justi�ed by God—inasmuch as that was even necessary after the theophany in front of Job—but only after Job has himself become an intercessor for his friends who were subject to God’s wrath for having falsely attributed sin to the righteous Job. This �nale, often overlooked within the entire Job material,4 indicates that true righteousness is to be seen precisely in a person’s mercy towards the self-righteous. It is this quality by which a person is ultimately justi�ed. Moses, Abraham, and Samuel (table 1, no. 3.5–10) act as intercessors as well, usually in order to justify their people. Within the context of a monotheization of this traditional justi�cation constellation, Y HWH can take on the roles of accuser, intercessor, and justi�er. This is found, for example, in the great �ood narrative, where God is both punisher and

3. The justi�cation and ordination of Isaiah in front of YHWH—an account that is approximately two centuries earlier—features a minimum of �gures. Between the enthroned God and Isaiah the text describes only the seraphim, which purify the prophet’s lips (Isa 6:1–7; table 1, no. 2). 4. But emphasized in 42:7–9 LXX and in 11QtgJob 38:2–3 (cf. Gradl 2001, 342), pointing to Jas 5:16 (Janowski 1982).

166

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savior at the same time (table 1, no. 4). What may be less well known is that besides the monotheization, there is likewise a democratization of the justifying authority. At the appointment of Simon Maccabeus as high priest it is no longer God who appoints, as we had seen for Joshua (Zech 3:1–7), but the people (1 Macc 14:25–49; table 1, no. 15, cf. no. 14). The people take the place of God as justifying sovereign.5 Summing up, we can state that the topic of the audience of the righteous before God was quite present in the ancient Near East for centuries, from the middle of the third millennium onwards, in the form of the introduction-scene constellation. In the Bible, this introduction scene is especially apparent during the appointment of great authorities (righteous saviors, prophets, leaders, high priests). Over time, we can observe a tendency towards the monotheization (with simultaneous angelization) and democratization of the justifying authority. It can also be found in the intercession of a righteous person for the people of Israel or for individual sinners. 2. Justi�cation Through Sacri�ce The offering of a gift is the second way of receiving an audience and, subsequently, an assurance of salvation. Such a gift was, on the one hand, supposed to placate the deity. On the other hand, it was capable of magically representing a sin that may need to be redeemed and that stands in the way of justi�cation. The gift is capable of representing sacramentally the expulsion or destruction of such sin. This method is prevalent throughout the ancient Near East as well, which makes it desirable to examine the respective biblical practice in this larger context. Especially noteworthy in this context is MÁŠ.�UL.DÚB.BA (literally, “goat that expulses evil”; Akk.: maš�ulduppû), the kid used for various kinds of exorcisms. The kid that a prince would offer in public as an expiatory sacri�ce may be related to this practice as well (Cavigneaux 1995). Such a rite was so meaningful that numerous images commemorate the event (��������).6 These types of acts of reconciliation

5. The justifying role of the people is twofold: it approves the investiture of Simon by the Seleucid king Demetrius and it takes God’s earlier role in the justi�cation of the ruler, now with the eschatological caveat “till there should arise a faithful prophet” (cf. Schenker 2000). 6. Even year names recall such an act (Seidl 2001, 67). For the role of the king as an intercessor between the people and the gods, see Maul 1999, 201–21; cf. table 1, no. 16. 1

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were important for preserving political stability. They were the precondition for a divinely legitimized government and therefore foundational for a peaceful relationship between the people, whom the prince represented, and their god(s).

Figure 2. Fragment of a terracotta tablet. Babylonia. ca. 1700 B.C.E. BIBEL + ORIENT Museum Freiburg VFig 2005.11 (Schroer and Keel 2005, Nr. 256). © Courtesy BIBLE + ORIENT Foundation, Fribourg, Switzerland.

Figure 3. Figure made of arsenic copper. Babylonia. Seventeenth century B.C.E., BIBEL + ORIENT Museum Freiburg VFig 2000.3 (Keel and Staubli 2001, 49 Kat. 25). © Courtesy BIBLE + ORIENT Foundation, Fribourg, Switzerland.

The constellation of a people’s representative offering a goat kid as an atoning sacri�ce can also be found in the Priestly Code, namely in Lev 4:22–26 (table 1, no. 18), in a passage which, based on literary-critical analysis, belongs to the oldest P-layer (Elliger 1966, 194). The unusual ordering of the ���� laws according to the rank of the person offering the sacri�ce demonstrates the importance of who offers the sacri�ce, for that person is taking a debt upon himself, in this case one with signi�cance for the community. Furthermore, the type of sacri�cial animal, a “hairy goat” (���� ����), is signi�cant as well. Hairiness (�����) may be a reference to the demonic, since demons belonged to the common imagination of the southern Levant (Lev 17:7; Isa 13:21; 34:14). Within the cultic laws of the Hebrew Bible, hairy goats are used exclusively for sin offerings (Lev 9:3, 15; 16 passim; 23:19; Num 7 passim; 15:24). The prince’s sin offering and thereby the sin offering of each and every Israelite (Lev 4:27–35; table 1, no. 19, cf. also no. 17) is in no way the only instance where the sacri�ce authorizes someone to stand anew before God. Every sacri�ce at least includes a justifying function, although with different accentuations.

168

Image, Text, Exegesis

In Judaism and Islam, an extreme form of sacri�ce, namely, Abraham’s willingness to sacri�ce his own son (Gen 22:1–13; table 1, no. 20, cf. also no. 21; 29), became the image of justi�cation par excellence.7 We �nd this scene at the heart of antique synagogue imagery, be it on the Torah shrine (as for example in Dura-Europos, third century C.E.) or in the entrance area of the synagogue (for example, in Bet Alpha, sixth century C.E.). Christians took this idea of sacri�ce even further by worshiping Jesus of Nazareth as God’s son, who was not released by his father, but was indeed sacri�ced as a sin offering for the justi�cation of the people (table 1, nos. 26–28). For all three Abrahamic religions, martyrdom, that is the total surrendering of oneself to God, became the extreme form of a sacri�ce that was believed would bring justi�cation in an afterlife lived at the right hand of God (cf. Isa 53:10; 4 Macc 18:20– 24; table 1, no. 23). The justi�cation of martyrdom could be obtained by women as well (cf. 2 Macc 7:20, 41; table 1, no. 25), who thereby showed manliness, so to speak, by imitating Isaac, Ishmael, or Christ. But the justifying selfsacri�ce of women usually took on a different form. In the context of a world with an extremely high female mortality during childbirth, marriage was synonymous with a death sentence and thus the woman’s sacri�ce to the community. Put differently, by giving birth, a woman obtained her social or religious justi�cation. Therein lies the explanation for Iphigenia’s wearing of a dress formerly belonging to a woman who died giving birth, for as that woman died in motherhood, so Iphigenia sacri�ced herself in the public expiation ritual for the community (Burkert 1998, 96–100r; cf. table 1, no. 24). 3. Justi�cation Through Recognition as a Son A heightened form of divine audience is the recognition of the son by the fatherly deity. Christianity makes use of this mythologem in order to justify the unique authority of Jesus. In Mesopotamia, we can observe the �rst dei�cation of a ruler with Naramsin (Schroer and Keel 2005, Nr. 246).8 In Egypt, this issue seems to have been clari�ed and regularized authoritatively very early on. From the beginning, the Pharaoh appeared as the legitimate son of God. He received this legitimacy in Egypt through the myth of the conception and birth of the son, which has its Sitz im Leben in the birthplaces of the great city temples. Within this 7. For another aspect of a monumentalization of justi�cation see table 1, no. 22. 8. For a similar dynamic under Gudea of Lagash, which is re�ected in the introduction scenes, see Schroer and Keel 2005, §1. 1

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cycle,9 the father’s threefold recognition of his child was decisive for the legitimization of the son as heir and trustee of his father (�����). After the child’s birth, the father takes the baby into his arms and says,10 “This is I” (�����, scene 11), thereby expressing the physical unity of father and son. The second recognition happens on the occasion of the public presentation, that is: the “exhibition” or epiphany of the child. Before the assembled privy council, the father takes the child onto his lap and kisses it, saying “my beloved son, whom I have created one �esh with me” (�����, scene 14), which signi�es: “in my image.” In the festive relief’s �nal scene, the father presents his child to the gods (�����, scene 17). This constellation of the recognition of the child as the son can already be found in Egypt as a separate icon, isolated from the other scenes, as for example in the blessing of Ptah. With this same independence, it appears also in Ps 2 (table 1, no. 30 and 32) and in a particularly iconic form (with an accordingly strong art historical resonance) in the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan. The divine recognition is translated into the Near Eastern symbolic system, where the dove, an ancient symbol of the goddess of love, now visualizes the message of love “This is my Son, the Beloved with whom I am well pleased” (Matt 3:17). The other parts of the mythologem of the conception of the son are well known mainly from the Gospel of Luke (2:1–39) and partly from the Gospel of Matthew (2:13–23); particularly detailed, however, is the Gospel of James, where practically all the scenes from the Egyptian temple walls are present.11 The justi�cation through the recognition of the son brings us back to the audience scenes, because it is a kind of encounter between the highest deity and the future ruler, yet it is an exception to most audience scenes inasmuch as the initiative comes from the fatherly deity, the one to be justi�ed still being a child. However, the connection with baptism or cleansing shows that the son takes an active role in the justi�cation events as well. In the Old Testament, the constellation �nds only scarce evidence. Its great importance in the New Testament can therefore not be founded upon the biblical tradition alone, but rather suggests Egyptian in�uences. 9. The cycle is known from the New Kingdom (Deir-el-Bahri and Luxortemple) and from Mammisi of Roman-era temples (Philae, Dendera and Edfu; cf. Elliger 1966; Janowski 2000; Burkert 1998, 96–100r); cf. table 1, no. 24. 10. This and the following quotes are according to Assmann (1982, 45 n. 4). 11. Table 1, no. 31. Although the Gospel of James was not canonized, the themes that it transmits are very present in Christian European art to legitimize the position of Christ as son of God. For example, a very prominent cycle is to be found on the Western porticus of the cathedral of Chartre.

7 Annunciation

Nativity

Prelude

2 Query of apt mortals

8 Childbearing

1 Annunciation of procreation

9 Childbirth

3 On the way to the woman

10 Reception of child

Procreation

5 Order to form a child

Breast Feeding

11 Recognition of child

4 Marriage; name for child

12 Childbed

6 Forming of the child

1

14 Public recognition

Circumcision

15 Circumcision and benedictions

16 Puri�cation Finale (?)

17 Presentation

Figure 4. Relief cycle “Procreation of the son.” Scenes 1–15 are from the Luxor temple (Amenophis III, 1397–1360 B.C.E.), western wall of room XIII. Scenes 16–17 are from the northern half of the middle peristyle from D�r el-Bahari (Hatshepsut, 1488–1467 B.C.E.); author’s collage after Assmann 1982, 16–18. © Courtesy BIBLE + ORIENT Foundation, Fribourg, Switzerland.

13 Presentation

172

Image, Text, Exegesis

4. Justi�cation Through a Divine Virtue Finally, we will discuss a constellation that deals primarily with the justi�cation of the individual. Contrary to the public intercessions and sacri�ces, this justi�cation takes place to a large extent within the person and in his own actions. It is the idea of justi�cation through virtue, either through good works or through a positive interior disposition, that enables God’s saving grace. The assurance of one’s own righteousness is a theme that can be found within the old Hebrew religious literature, especially in the Psalms. For the pious, this assurance amounts to God’s acceptance of the individual in God’s role as a judge. Bernd Janowski demonstrated this for Ps 7 (table 1, no. 34), which contains a motif he described as iusti�catio iusti (Janowski 1994, 57; 2006, 141). The praying person comes before God, trusting in the saving help of the divine judge. God passionately advocates justice, and the person trusts that his or her own justice or innocence will pass the test of God’s examination. This trust, which is important in the process of the iusti�catio iusti, therefore has two aspects: the trust in one’s own justice and the trust in God’s justice. Both of these aspects of trust come together in a most succinct form in the creed that God “saves the upright in heart” (������� �����).12 These righteous individuals are often under threat by the godless, like birds before an archer (Ps 11:2). As an individual relies on God to bring his actions to fruition, so God relies on the individual to have the right attitude and to act accordingly. In the course of religious history, the emphasis has been sometimes more on the human, sometimes more on the divine side of the collaboration. Such was the case in Egypt, where one observes the image of the tested heart as a frequent and remarkably longstanding motif. With the Last Judgment in mind (�����), the faithful tries to live his or her life in accordance with the instructions compiled in the so-called negative confessions of the Book of the Dead (spell 125). If all goes well, the outcome of the testing of the heart is an audience of the justi�ed with Osiris, accompanied by another deity (�����). This scene, which corresponds to the vision of God that the Hebrew psalmists longed for, hardly differs from the Mesopotamian introduction scenes. Here too, a person who is to be justi�ed is led by a mediator before the enthroned deity. Whereas the Egyptian version of the justi�cation puts the emphasis more strongly on the actual testing, the Mesopotamian tradition of the 12. A key expression in the Psalms: cf. Pss 7:11; 11:2; 32:11; 36:11; 64:11; 66:18; 94:15; 97:11; 125:4 (Janowski 1994, 57; 2006, 141). 1

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introduction scene (�����) focuses more on the outcome, that is, on the audience before the deity. The interest is the same in both traditions: the justi�cation of man before God. The human being should be able to say of him- or herself: “I am noble, happy about the Maat / I followed the laws of the hall of the two Maat.”13 The Maat plays the central role here. It is realized to a certain degree by every human being during his or her life, but is sometimes also experienced as a separate entity that supports the human heart with its saving grace. Therein lies a re�ection of the ancient experience that the truly righteous knows nothing of his or her righteousness (compare Matt 25:31–46; table 1, no. 43). For him or her, justi�cation is pure grace.

Figure 5. Papyrus of Chonsu-mes. 21st Dynasty (1165–1085 B.C.E.). Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (Keel 1996, �g. 83). © Courtesy BIBLE + ORIENT Foundation, Fribourg, Switzerland.

Figure 6. Papyrus of Dirpu. D�r el-Bahari. 21st Dynasty (1165–1085 B.C.E.). Egyptian Museum, Cairo (Keel 1996, �g. 273). © Courtesy BIBLE + ORIENT Foundation, Fribourg, Switzerland. 13. Autobiographical inscription in a tomb, fourteenth century B.C.E., quoted after Assmann, Janowski, and Welker (1998, 17). Cf. Job 31:6 (table 1, no. 33): “Let me be weighed in a just balance, and let God know my integrity!” Cf. Kunz 2001.

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The Deuteronomistic and Jeremian theologies have emphasized the importance of grace with particular fervor.14 The Deuteronomists had lost their faith in the upright heart of the human being. For them, justi�cation is possible only through a strict Torah obedience, which they refer to as a circumcision of the heart (Deut 30:6; cf. table 1, no. 35). Jeremiah goes even further. In the context of his discourse on the New Covenant (Jer 31:31–34; table 1, no. 36), he speaks of a heart transplantation; the heart of stone is replaced with a heart of �esh. The goal of this operation is to think God’s thoughts and to will God’s will (Schenker 1991). The imaginative complex of the heart as the anthropological matrix of the inner human being was deeply rooted in Egypt and the southern Levant. The constellation of the testing of the heart by God allowed for many variations in ongoing theological debates about the nature of justi�cation. Epilogue The types of constellations presented here did not exist totally independent from one another. It lies at the very essence of constellations that they can be extended and combined. Thus an intercession can be reinforced by a sacri�ce, and the human endeavor to live a righteous life can be honored and promoted by intercession. The Christian doctrine of justi�cation has made use of all of these constellations. In the classical medieval depiction of justi�cation, through the “Last Judgment” scene above the main cathedral entrance, the constellations are more or less perfectly combined (e.g., ���� �). Along the vertical axis—from the bottom upwards—the intercession through the patron saint (the �rst type of justi�cation, see §1) is strongly emphasized, and at the same time— from the top downwards—so is the divine sonship of Christ, who rules as justi�ed and righteous judge (the third type, see §3). Along the horizontal axis, we �nd the acculturation of the ancient Egyptian weighing of the heart (the fourth type, see §4). Michael takes the place of Anubis, Peter that of Thoth, while Christ takes the role of Osiris, and the patron saint (very often Mary but in ����� St. Nicolas) takes the role of Maat. It is evident that the Medieval Christian justi�cation theology adapted an Egyptian model in the center of its symbol system and not the abstract version of this type of justi�cation advocated by St. Paul. The justi�cation through sacri�ce (second type, see §2) takes place when the faithful traverses the judgment scene and enters the church horizontally; he or

1

14. As has been demonstrated by Braulik (1984, 1989).

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she steps in front of the altar, where throughout the service various aspects of the sacri�ce are represented. The subject of justi�cation, with its manifestly far-reaching reception history, has by no means been exhaustively discussed here.15 But I hope to have demonstrated the possibility, if not the necessity, of considering models of justi�cation in the ancient Near East and Old Testament rather than simply looking at justi�cation through the typical Christian-Pauline lenses.

Figure 7. Tympanum of the western porticus of the cathedral of St. Nicholas, Fribourg, Switzerland. fourteenth century C.E.; author’s photograph.

15. One could add, for example, the original variant of justi�cation by virtue in Qohelet’s thinking. Like Jeremiah and the Deuteronomists, he does not believe in human justice. Yet his solution is totally different from the idea of heart transplantation. A human’s justi�cation in front of the creator is to enjoy God’s gifts: food, wine, clothes, oil, and a wife (Eccl 7:7f; 11:9–12:1); cf. Maussion 2003, 171; cf. table 1, no. 39. Still another solution of justi�cation of a human being is its redemption by a soft death as a form of charis, a variant which can be found in Sophokles’s Oedipus coloneus (1751–52; cf. Pridik 2002, 194); cf. table 1, no. 40. This Greek variant should be kept in mind for an adequate understanding of Paul’s interpretation of his biblical and ancient Near Eastern heritage, together with the well-known tradition of “faith” as medium of redemption of the justi�ed (table 1, nos. 37, 38, 42; cf. no. 41: “Holy Spirit” instead of “faith”).

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Bibliography Assmann, J. 1977. Die Verborgenheit des Mythos in Ägypten. GM 25:7–43. ———. 1982. Die Zeugung des Sohnes: Bild, Spiel, Erzählung und das Problem des ägyptischen Mythos. Pages 13–61 in Funktionen und Leistungen des Mythos: Drei altorientalische Beispiele. Edited by W. Burkert and F. Stolz. OBO 48. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Assmann, J., B. Janowski, and M. Welker. 1998. Richten und Retten: Zur Aktualität der altorientalischen und biblischen Gerechtigkeitskonzeption. Pages 9–35 in Gerechtigkeit. Richten und Retten in der abendländischen Tradition und ihren abendländischen Ursprüngen. Edited by J. Assmann, B. Janowski, and M. Welker. K/K. Munich: Fink. Burkert, W. 1998. Kulte des Altertums. Biologische Grundlagen der Religion. Munich: Beck. Braulik, G. 1984. Law as Gospel: Justi�cation and Pardon According to the Deuteronomic Torah. Int 38:5–14. ———. 1989. Die Entstehung der Rechtfertigungslehre in den Bearbeitungsschichten des Buches Deuteronomium: Ein Beitrag zur Klärung der Voraussetzungen paulinischer Theologie. TP 64:321–53. Cavigneaux, A. 1995. MÁŠ-�UL-DÚB-BA. Pages 53–68 in Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte Vorderasiens: Festschrift für Rainer Michael Boehmer. Edited by U. Finkbeiner, R. Dittmann, and H. Hauptmann. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Delaporte, L. 1920. Catalogue des cylindres, cachets et pierres gravées de style oriental; 1: Fouilles et missions. Paris: Hachette. Elliger, K. 1966. Leviticus. HAT 1/4. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Gradl, F. 2001. Das Buch Ijob. NSK-AT 12. Stuttgart: Bibelwerk. Haussperger, M. 1991. Die Einführungsszene: Entwicklung eines mesopotamischen Motivs von der altakkadischen bis zum Ende der altbabylonischen Zeit. MVS 11. Vienna: Pro�l. Janowski, B. 1982. Sündenvergebung “um Hiobs willen”: Fürbitte und Vergebung in 11QtgJob 38,2f. und Hi 42,9f. LXX. ZNW 73:251–80. ———. 1994. JHWH der Richter—ein rettender Gott. Ps 7 und das Motiv des Gottesgerichts. Pages 53–86 in Sünde und Gericht. Edited by I. Baldermann et al. JBTh 9. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. ———. 2000. Sühne als Heilsgeschehen: Traditions- und religionsgeschichtliche Studien zur priesterschriftlichen Sühnetheologie. 2d ed. WMANT 55. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener. ———. 2006. Kon�iktgespräche mit Gott: Eine Anthropologie der Psalmen. 2d ed. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener. Keel, O. 1996. Die Welt der altorientalischen Bildsymbolik und das Alte Testament: Am Beispiel der Psalmen. 5th ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Keel, O., and T. Staubli. 2001. “Im Schatten Deiner Flügel”: Tiere in der Bibel und im Alten Orient. Fribourg: Academic Press. Kunz, A. 2001. Der Mensch auf der Waage: Die Vorstellung vom Gerichtshandeln Gottes im ägyptischen Totenbuch (TB 125) und bei Hiob (Ijob 31). BZ 45:235–50.

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Maul, S. 1999. Der assyrische König Hüter der Weltordnung. Pages 201–24 in Priests and Of�cials in the Ancient Near East: Papers of the Second Colloquium on the Ancient Near East—The City and Its Life—Held at the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo), March 22–24, 1996. Edited by K. Watanabe. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter. Maussion, M. 2003. Le mal, le bien et le jugement de Dieu dans le livre de Qohélet. OBO 190. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Milgrom, J. 1991. Leviticus 1–16. AB 3. New York: Doubleday. Pridik, K.-H. 2002. Die Erlösung des Schuldigen in der griechischen Tragödie. Pages 179–97 in Gerechtigkeit glauben und erfahren: Beiträge zur Rechtfertigungslehre. Edited by S. Kreuzer and J. von Lüpke. VKHW 7. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Schenker, A. 1991. Die Tafel des Herzens. Eine Studie über Anthropologie und Gnade im Denken des Propheten Jeremia im Zusammenhang mit Jer 31,31–34. Pages 68–82 in Text und Sinn: Textgeschichtliche und Bibeltheologische Studien. Edited by A. Schenker. OBO 103. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. ———. 2000. Die zweimalige Einsetzung Simons des Makkabäers zum Hohenpriester. Die Neuordnung des Hohepriestertums unter dem Hasmonäer Simon (1 Macc 14,25–49). Pages 158–69 in Recht und Kult im Alten Testament: Achtzehn Studien. Edited by A. Schenker. OBO 172. Fribourg: Academic Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Schroer, S., and O. Keel. 2005. Vom ausgehenden Mesolithikum bis zur Frühbronzezeit. Vol. 1 of Die Ikonographie Palästinas/Israels und der Alte Orient: Eine Religionsgeschichte in Bildern. IPIAO 1. Fribourg: Academic Press. Seidl, U. 2001. 25 Statuette eines Tierträgers. Page 49 in Keel and Staubli 2001. Staubli, T. 2010. Alttestamentliche Konstellationen der Rechtfertigung des Menschen vor Gott. Pages 88–133 in Biblische Anthropologie: Neue Einsichten aus dem Alten Testament. Edited by C. Frevel. QD 237. Freiburg: Herder. Steiner, U. 2012. Aspekte des Menschseins im Alten Mesopotamien: Eine Studie zu Person und Identität im 2. und 1. Jt. v. Chr. CM 44. Leiden: Brill. Suter, C. 2000. Gudea’s Temple Building: The Representation of an Early Mesopotamian Ruler in Text and Image. CM 17. Groningen: Styx. Willi-Plein, I. 2007. Haggai, Sacharja, Maleachi. ZBK 24/4. Zürich: TVZ.

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THE IVORY BEDS AND HOUSES OF SAMARIA IN AMOS Meindert Dijkstra

Introduction On several occasions, the prophet Amos mentions ivory furniture and other ivory decoration of houses and palaces (Amos 3:12, 15; 6:4). For example: You put off the evil day and bring near a reign of terror. You lie on beds inlaid with ivory and lounge on your couches. (Amos 6.3–4a [NIV])1

Beds and couches inlaid or veneered with ivory plaques were tokens of great riches and luxury (Dijkstra 1994).2 According to the Deuteronomistic Historian, one of Ahab’s achievements was the building of a ��� ���, a “house of ivory” (1 Kgs 22:39; cf. Ps 45:9). In Amos 3:15, the prophet even spoke of houses of ivory and perhaps also ebony. Indeed, the conjecture suggested by BHS et al., “houses of ebony,” ����� ��� or ���� �����, has some credibility instead of the rather meaningless ���� ���� in the MT.3 The combination of inlays of ivory, ebony, and precious stones is well known from Ugaritic and Egyptian documents, furniture, luxury boxes, and game-boards.4 The dowry of Ahatmilku, queen of Ugarit, mentions a chair inlaid with ivory and ebony (PRU 3:182–86 = RS 16.146+161). Imports of ivory and ebony from Africa and India as raw material and as luxury products are mentioned in Ugarit (KTU 4.402.6) and Israel (Ezek 27:15). According to Ezekiel, they were imported into 1. Unless otherwise noted, all translations of biblical texts are my own. 2. In the 1990s, I started to collect material on ivories and furniture for a study on the furniture of houses, temples, and so on. A few examples of reconstructions of ivory panels from my �les have been published in de Hulster 2009, 241; �gs. 8.14, 8.15. 3. �����