In Search of the Promised Land?: The Hasmonean Dynasty Between Biblical Models and Hellenistic Diplomacy [1 ed.] 9783666552526, 9783525552520

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Katell Berthelot

In Search of the Promised Land? The Hasmonean Dynasty Between Biblical Models and Hellenistic Diplomacy

Journal of Ancient Judaism Supplements Edited by Armin Lange, Bernard M. Levinson and Vered Noam   Advisory Board   Katell Berthelot (University of Aix-Marseille), George Brooke (University of Manchester), Jonathan Ben Dov (University of Haifa), Beate Ego (University of Osnabrück), Ester Eshel (Bar-Ilan University), Heinz-Josef Fabry (University of Bonn), Steven Fraade (Yale University), Maxine L. Grossman (University of Maryland), Christine Hayes (Yale University), Catherine Hezser (University of London), Jodi Magness (University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill), Carol Meyers, (Duke University), Eric Meyers (Duke University), Hillel Newman (University of Haifa), Christophe Nihan (University of Lausanne), Lawrence H. Schiffman (New York University), Konrad Schmid (University of Zurich), Adiel Schremer (Bar-Ilan University), Michael Segal (Hebrew University of Jerusalem), Aharon Shemesh (­Bar-Ilan University), Günter Stemberger (University of Vienna), Kristin De Troyer (University of St Andrews), Azzan Yadin (Rutgers University)

Volume 24

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

Katell Berthelot

In Search of the Promised Land? The Hasmonean Dynasty Between Biblical Models and Hellenistic Diplomacy Translation by Margaret Rigaud

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

This work has been produced within the framework of the Unit of Excellence LabexMed – Social Sciences and Humanities at the heart of multidisciplinary research for the Mediterranean – which holds the following reference 10-LABX-0090. This work has benefited from a state grant administered by the Agence Nationale de la Recherche for the project Investissements d’Avenir A*MIDEX which holds the reference n°ANR-11-IDEX-0001-02.

With 2 Maps Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data available online: http://dnb.d-nb.de. ISSN 2197-0092 ISBN 978-3-666-55252-6 Cover image: Terra promissa © Bibliothèque nationale de France, www.bnf.fr You can find alternative editions of this book and additional material on our Website: www.v-r.de © 2018, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht GmbH & Co. KG, Theaterstraße 13, D-37073 Göttingen/ Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht LLC, Bristol, CT, U.S.A. www.v-r.de All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher. Typesetting by SchwabScantechnik, Göttingen

“In history, as elsewhere, the causes cannot be assumed. They have to be looked for”. Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft, p. xxii

“By trying to combine a theocratic rule in the old Jewish style with a principality on the Hellenistic model, the Hasmoneans found themselves involved in more than ordinary difficulties and contradictions.” Arnaldo Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, p. 113

Table of Contents

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 A Note on the Translations used in this Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14

Introduction. The Historiography of the Hasmonean Period: The Influence of Biblical Models and of Modern Debates on the Creation of a Jewish State 1. A brief overview of one hundred years of historical scholarship on the Hasmonean period (ca. 1850–1950) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 2. The reconquest of the promised land: A ubiquitous paradigm . . . . . . . . . . . 38 3. Dissident voices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 4. Reflexions on some of the methodological problems raised by biblical models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  52 4.1 The borders of the promised land . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 4.2 The question of the perenniality of the commandment to conquer the promised land  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .57 4.3 The “conversion” of non-Jews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .58 5. “Religion” and “politics”: two problematic categories in the historiography of the Hasmonean period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 6. The structure of this book and its guiding principles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  63

Part I. Did the Hasmoneans Seek to Reconquer the Promised Land or Restore Judea? The Account of the Hasmonean Wars in 1 Maccabees 1. The First Book of Maccabees: general presentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 1.1 The contents of the book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .65 1.2 The language, context, date and compositional unity of the book . . . . .67 1.3 Parallel accounts: The Second Book of Maccabees and the work of Josephus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 1.3.1 The Second Book of Maccabees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  72 1.3.2 The Judean (or Jewish) War and Jewish Antiquities by Flavius Josephus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78

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2. The land: an objective conspicuous by its absence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  80 2.1 The conspicuous absence of the issue of the land of Israel from The First Book of Maccabees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 2.2 The land in 2 Maccabees and in Josephus’ rewriting of 1 Maccabees .86 2.3 The territorial stakes of the Maccabean wars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 3. The Hasmonean dynasty’s biblical models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 3.1 A few preliminary reflections on the concept of “Bible” in the second century B.C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .94 3.2 Biblical models and the literary structure of 1 Maccabees . . . . . . . . . . .99 3.3 Joshua, a model for the Hasmoneans? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 3.4 A sacerdotal family seeking to legitimate its position as a royal dynasty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .109 4. The wars against non-Judean peoples: Judeans versus Canaanites? . . . . . . . 118 4.1 The prescriptions concerning the Canaanites in the Bible . . . . . . . . . . .118 Scenario No 1: the expulsion of the Canaanites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 Scenario No 2: h.erem warfare or the extermination of the Canaanites .119 Scenario No 3: slavery or “forced labour” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 4.2 The war practices of Judas Maccabeus and his brothers: an attempt to put Deuteronomy 20 into practice? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .126 4.2.1 The influence of Deuteronomy on 1 Maccabees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 4.2.2 The laws of warfare in Deuteronomy 20 and 1 Maccabees . . . . . . 132 4.2.3 The wars waged by Judas, Jonathan and Simon, according to 2 Maccabees and Flavius Josephus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 4.3 Do we encounter a “Canaanite” in a Hasmonean context? (1 Macc 9:37) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .149 5. Did the Hasmoneans attempt to purify the land? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 6. The “inheritance of our fathers” (1 Macc 15:33–35) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 6.1 The territorial dispute between the Seleucids and the Hasmoneans, from Judas to Simon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .163 6.2 The biblical background of the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” .171 6.3 The parallels between the discourses of the Seleucids and Simon in 1 Maccabees . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .174 6.4 Understanding Simon’s reply in the context of the territorial conflicts of the Hellenistic era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .177 7. The development of a historico-juridical conception of Israel’s right of ownership over the land . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185 7.1 The original allotment of the land according to the Book of Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .185

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The connections between the Book of Jubilees and the Genesis A ­ pocryphon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 The Hellenistic context of the juridical or historico-juridical discourse used to establish the right of ownership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193 7.2 The posterity of this historico-juridical argument in Jewish thought  203

Part II. The Era of the Conquests: Rise and Fall of the Hasmonean State 1. The inescapable Flavius Josephus: was his perspective anti-Hasmonean? . 214 1.1 Strabo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .219 1.2 Nicolaus of Damascus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .227 1.3 The Judean (or Idumean) origins of some of Josephus’ criticism of the Hasmoneans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .232 1.4 Josephus’ point of view . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .236 2. The different stages, the nature, and the motivations of the Hasmonean ­territorial expansion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 2.1 John Hyrcanus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .240 The motivations of John Hyrcanus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 2.2 Aristobulus I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 2.3 Alexander Jannaeus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .267 103–92 B.C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 92–83 B.C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 83–76 B.C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 2.4 Jannaeus’ successors to the throne until 63 B.C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .279 3. The “forced conversions” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 3.1 The Idumeans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .290 3.1.1 Josephus’ account of the Judaization of the Idumeans . . . . . . . . . . 290 3.1.2 Ptolemy the Historian’s account of the Idumeans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294 3.1.3 Strabo’s account of the Idumeans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296 3.1.4 Was the Judaization of the Idumeans an innovation on the biblical models? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298 3.2 The Itureans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .305 3.3 The questions raised by the case of Pella . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .309 3.4 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .314 3.5 The presentation of the imposition of Judean laws on the conquered territories as a Seleucid idea in 1 Maccabees 10 . . . . . . . . . .316 4. The use of mercenaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324 4.1 A sign of the Hellenization of the Hasmoneans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .324 4.2 The Judaization of non-Judean populations versus the use of foreign mercenaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .329

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4.3 The mercenaries and the Judean opposition to the Hasmoneans . . . . .331 4.4 The Hasmoneans’ accumulation of riches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .335

Part III. Polemic, Memory, Forgetting 1. The polemic against the Hasmoneans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 342 1.1 The critique of the Hasmoneans in the Qumran manuscripts . . . . . . . .342 1.1.1 The first two generations: Mattathias and his sons . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343 1.1.2 John Hyrcanus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345 4Q379: Was John Hyrcanus the “man of Belial”? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345 4QTestimonia, a threefold critique of John Hyrcanus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 354 The Essenes and prophecy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359 A list of false prophets (4Q339) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360 The fallibility of the prophet Joshua according to 4Q522 . . . . . . . . . . . . 362 The rules of war in the Temple Scroll . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366 1.1.3 Alexander Jannaeus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372 The times of wickedness in 4Q390 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372 The Pesher on Isaiah (a) (4Q161) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372 4Q448: for or against king Jonathan? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375 The Pesher on Nahum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383 The Pesher on Habakkuk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 386 Is there a condemnation of the Hasmonean wars in 4Q471a? . . . . . . . . 388 1.2 The critique of the Hasmoneans in the Psalms of Solomon . . . . . . . . . . .390 2. Memory and Forgetting: the Hasmonean expansion in rabbinic literature .395 2.1 The memory of the Hasmonean victories in rabbinic literature . . . . . .396 2.1.1 The memory of these victories in Megillat Ta‘anit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 2.1.2 Beyond Megillat Ta‘anit: the memory of the wars of liberation in the rest of rabbinic literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 402 2.1.3 On some of the echoes of Jannaeus’ conquests in the Babylonian Talmud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 404 2.1.4 The implications of John Hyrcanus’ gift of prophecy . . . . . . . . . . . 407 2.2 The critique of the accumulation of powers and the attempt to control the exercise of royal power . . . . . . . . . . . . . .408 2.2.1 The critique of the accumulation of powers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 408 2.2.2 The attempt to control the king’s exercise of power . . . . . . . . . . . . 416 2.3 The ambiguity of the Babylonian Talmud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .416 2.3.1 The presence of anti-Hasmonean revisions in the Babylonian Talmud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417 The chronology of Seder ‘Olam in b. Avodah Zarah 8b–9a . . . . . . . . . . . 418 Alexander Jannaeus as the murderer of the Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420

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Table of Contents

The account of the fratricidal conflict between Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II in b. Menahot 64b . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 421 2.3.2 The Hasmonean dynasty versus the Davidic dynasty in the Babylonian Talmud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .427 Excursus: Eupolemus’ perspective on the reigns of David and Solomon . . . . 434 List of the documents describing the diplomatic relations between the Hasmoneans and Rome before 63 B.C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 439 Chronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 440 Maps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  445 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  447 Index of ancient sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 479

Preface

This project began as a chapter in a study on ancient Jewish interpretations of the biblical texts pertaining to the conquest of the land of Canaan. Following the majority scholarly opinion, I initially planned to look at the Books of Maccabees as examples of the re-actualization of the biblical conquest narrative in the Second Temple period. As I began to dig into the texts, however, I realized that this reading was fraught with problems. As a consequence, what was initially meant to be a chapter on the Books of Maccabees developed into a complex historiographical investigation of the wars waged by the Maccabees and the Hasmonean dynasty more broadly. This historiographical journey proved to be both challenging and fascinating, and I hope that the readers will find it rewarding too. I am grateful to the many scholars who have shared their expertise and/or discussed different aspects of the book with me, or read and commented on individual chapters or on the work as a whole. They are too numerous to enumerate, but I wish to express special thanks to Sylvie Honigman, John Ma, Daniel Schwartz, Uriel Rappaport, Maurice Sartre, Marie-Françoise Baslez, Gilles Dorival, and Erich Gruen. I am also thankful to Andrea Berlin, who invited me to Boston University to present some of the conclusions of this book to colleagues and students. While I was working on this project, I benefited enormously from the resources of the National Library and the Ecole Biblique and Archéologique Française in Jerusalem, and want to thank both institutions and their staff for their help. I am also grateful to Armin Lange, Vered Noam and Bernard Levinson for accepting to publish this work in the series of the Supplements to the Journal of Ancient Judaism, and to the team of Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht for their help with the production of this book. Last but not least, I am thankful to Aix-Marseille University and the LabexMed for providing the funding for the translation of this book into English, and to Margaret Rigaud for her work on the translation. Finally, I would like to express my gratitude to my family and friends, whose love and support made this project possible. The book was completed in 2015. As a consequence, I have not been able to take into account the bibliographical references published after that date. New books and articles on the Hasmoneans keep being published, and research must go on; but a book has to come to an end at some point.

Abbreviations

Most abbreviations follow the Society of Biblical Literature Handbook of Style. MT massoretic text b. Babylonian Talmud m. Mishnah t. Tosefta y. Jerusalem Talmud Journals ANRW Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt BAIAS Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research BCH Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique BN Biblische Notizen CBR Currents in Biblical Research CQ (The) Classical Quarterly CR (The) Classical Review C.U.F. Collection des Universités de France (Paris, Les Belles Lettres) DJD Discoveries in the Judean Desert (Oxford, Clarendon Press) DSD Dead Sea Discoveries ETL Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses GLAJJ M. Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism HTR Harvard Theological Review HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual IEJ Israel Exploration Journal JAJ Journal of Ancient Judaism JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JHS Journal of Hellenic Studies JJS Journal of Jewish Studies JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies JNSL Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages JQR Jewish Quarterly Review JRS Journal of Roman Studies JSJ  Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

Abbreviations

JSPs Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha JSQ Jewish Studies Quarterly JSS Journal of Semitic Studies JTS Journal of Theological Studies MGWJ Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums MJSt Münsteraner Jüdaistischen Studien NT Novum Testamentum NTS New Testament Studies OSAPh Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy PAAJR Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research RB Revue Biblique R.E. G. Wissowa et al. (ed.), Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der klassischen ­Altertumswissenschaft REG Revue des Études Grecques REJ Revue des Études Juives REL Revue des Études Latines RhM Rheinisches Museum RHPR Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuse RHR Revue d’Histoire des Religions RIDA Revue Internationale des Droits de l’Antiquité RLAC Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum RQ Revue de Qumrân SCI Scripta Classica Israelica ScrHier Scripta Hierosolyma SJOT Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament SPhA The Studia Philonica Annual TAPA Transactions of the American Philological Association TTZ Trierer Theologische Zeitschrift VT Vetus Testamentum WCJS World Congress of Jewish Studies ZAW Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZDPV Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins ZNW Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft ZPE Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik

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A Note on the Translations used in this Book

I have used the following English translations of the ancient works that I quote in this book (although I do sometimes modify these translations when I deem it necessary): The translation of the Hebrew Bible provided in The New Revised Standard Version. George T. Zervos’ translation of 1 Maccabees in the New English Translation of the Septuagint (NETS) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), based on Werner Kappler, Septuaginta: Vetus Testamentum Graecum Auctoritate Societatis Litterarum Göttingensis editum 9.1: Maccabaeorum liber I (2nd rev. ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1967). However, I have kept the most common spelling of the names of the protagonists of the book (rather than used Zervos’ transliteration of the Greek). Daniel R. Schwartz’s translation of 2 Maccabees (Berlin–New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), based on Werner Kappler and Robert Hanhart, Septuaginta: Vetus Testamentum Graecum Auctoritate Societatis Litterarum Göttingensis editum IX.2: Maccabaeorum liber II (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1959). Ralph Marcus’ translation of Books 12 to 14 of Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities (Loeb Classical Library).

Introduction The Historiography of the Hasmonean Period: The Influence of Biblical Models and of Modern Debates on the Creation of a Jewish State

The Hasmonean period holds special significance for Jewish history: the Jewish people would not enjoy another period of autonomy, or indeed sovereignty, over their land until the twentieth century. With the rise of Zionism and the creation of the State of Israel, the period of the Second Temple, and more particularly the Hasmonean dynasty, became a privileged area of study for a number of historians interested in the relationship of Israel to its land and to political sovereignty, and in the articulation of politics and religion in Judaism – especially in the rabbinic tradition, the founding block of Modern Orthodox Judaism.1 The question of whether Judaism is a “religion” or refers to the vocation of a people to give its existence as a nation the form of a state on the land of Israel, has been raised repeatedly by nineteenth- and twentieth-century authors working on the Hasmonean dynasty. Indeed, to some extent this question is still being asked today.2 According to both the Books of Maccabees and Flavius Josephus, Mattathias and his sons initially fought against the Seleucids in order to preserve Judean religious rituals and laws, as well as to free the Judeans from the yoke of foreign domination.3 It was not until they allied themselves with the Seleucid authorities, even

1 For a rapid overview of the different strands of the Jewish historiography on the Hasmoneans from the Middle Ages to the early 1970s, see Samuel Schafler, The Hasmoneans in Jewish Historiography (New York: unpublished doctoral dissertation, Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1973). 2 For a general analysis of this question in modern Jewish thought, see Leora Batnitzky, How Judaism Became a Religion: An Introduction to Modern Jewish Thought (Princeton – Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2011). 3 For a critical account of the Maccabean crisis, with an emphasis on its fiscal d ­ imension and on the loss of political rights that coincided with it, see R. Doran, “The Persecution of Judeans by Antiochus IV: The Significance of ‘Ancestral Laws’,” in The Other in Second Temple Judaism: Essays in Honor of John J. Collins (ed. D. C. Harlow et al.; Grand Rapids: Michigan, 2011), 423– 433; J. Ma, “Relire les Institutions des Séleucides de Bikerman,” in Rome, a City and its Empire in Perspective: The Impact of the Roman World Through Fergus Millar’s Research (ed. S. Benoist; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 59–84; idem, “Re-Examining Hanukkah,” in The Marginalia Review of Books

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becoming actors of Seleucid power (from Jonathan onwards), that they gradually started to extend the borders of the Judean territory, either through Seleucid gifts of land or through the use of force (as in the case of Joppa and Gazara). Taking advantage of the collapse of the Seleucid Kingdom in the wake of the death of Antiochus VII, John Hyrcanus and his sons started waging wars of conquest circa 112/11 B.C.E. Eventually, under Alexander Jannaeus the Judean territory stretched from Raphia – or indeed Rhinocolura in the south west, on the Mediterranean coast – to the Golan in the north east, and included parts of Transjordan (Moab, Perea, Gilead, etc.). However, as the descendants of Alexander Jannaeus became embroiled in infighting and Rome became more actively involved in the Levant, Judea lost its conquered territories and independence, and the Hasmonean dynasty gave way to the Herodian dynasty. Although Herod ruled over a considerable territory, his power depended on the good will of Rome. The Herodian period can therefore not be considered to have been a time of genuine independence, especially since Judea itself, strictly speaking, was under direct Roman control from 6 C.E. (apart from a brief interlude under Agrippa I). Even if the Hasmoneans did not achieve complete independence either, in the Jewish collective memory their dynasty nevertheless enjoys the prestige of having wrestled “victory from the Greeks” and freed Israel.4 The Maccabees thus came to represent the dream of liberation from the yoke of foreign domination for the pioneers in the Palestinian Yishuv, especially in the 1930s.5 Adopting a visionary stance, Theodor Herzl had already written in the last page of his seminal book, The Jewish State: “The Maccabees will rise again.”6 However, following the War of Independence and the creation of the State of Israel in 1948, Joshua’s conquest of the promised land and the kingdom of David became the dominant models, largely under the influence of Ben Gurion, a keen reader of (9 July 2013). Cited 28 September 2016. Online: http://themarginaliareview.com/archives/3083); idem, “Notes on the Restoration of the Temple,” in Seleukeia: Studies in Seleucid History, Archaeo­ logy and Numismatics in Honor of Getzel M. Cohen (R. Oetjen and F. Xavier Ryan, eds.; Berlin: W. de Gruyter, forthcoming); S. Honigman, “The Religious Persecution as a Narrative Elaboration of a Military Suppression,” in La mémoire des persécutions: Autour des livres des Maccabées (M.-F. Baslez and O. Munnich, eds.; Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 31–48; idem, Tales of High Priests and Taxes: The Books of the Maccabees and the Judean Rebellion against Antiochos IV (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014), 387–404 especially. I wish to thank John Ma and Sylvie Honigman for allowing me to read some of their work before it was published. 4 I understand the word ‘Hasmoneans’ to mean the dynasty as a whole, from Mattathias, father of Judas, Jonathan and Simon, to Antigonus II Mattathias. 5 See E. Don-Yehiya, “Hanukkah and the Myth of the Maccabees in Zionist Ideology and in Israeli Society,” Jewish Journal of Sociology 34 (1992): 5–23; Y. Shavit, Athens in Jerusalem: Classical Antiquity and Hellenism in the Making of the Modern Secular Jew (Portland: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1997 [1993]), 314–319. 6 Theodor Herzl, The Jewish State (trans. S. d’Avigdor; Minneapolis: Filiquarian Publishing, 2006), 95.

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the Bible. Indeed, in his writings Ben Gurion explicitly identified the War of 1948 with the reconquest of the promised land, underplaying the Hasmonean experience because of its tragic conclusion under Roman domination.7 Nineteenth- and twentieth-century references to the Hasmoneans reflect the rabbinic memory of this dynasty, but do so only partly. Although rabbinic texts do emphasize the freedom that the Hasmoneans wrestled from the Greek yoke, a key aspect of what the Maccabees represented in the popular imagination in the Yishuv during the British Mandate, they have very little to say about either the creation of an independent Judean state by the Hasmoneans or the territorial gains that followed the wars of conquest waged by Simon, John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I and Alexander Jannaeus, all central concerns in the Zionist perspective. This discrepancy, combined with the relative lack of exaltation of the Hasmonean state and its conquests in Jewish writings of the Hellenistic and Roman periods, raises several issues and calls into question the dominant interpretation of the Hasmonean wars in the field of ancient Jewish history today. During the twentieth century, the prevailing view in the historiography of the period was that the Hasmoneans waged wars of conquest in order to reclaim the land that God had given to Israel and/or to recreate the kingdom of David and Solomon. Such parallels with the era of the first kings of Israel are easy to understand, because no one before the sons of John Hyrcanus had claimed the title of “king” since the fall of the kingdom of Judah, and because the author of 1 Maccabees suggests that Judas, Jonathan and Simon were the spiritual (although not genealogical) descendants of the first kings of Israel (as we shall see in more detail in Part I of the present work). Moreover, the Hasmoneans conquered so much land that their territory more or less encompassed the borders of the ancient kingdoms of Israel and Judah. It is therefore not far-fetched to compare the kingdoms of David and Solomon to the Hasmonean state, at least when this comparison is based on the most measured account of the size of the territory that David controlled, as opposed to those that suggest that it reached the Euphrates (see infra).8 However, to infer from this comparison that recreating the kingdom of David and Solomon was the objective of the Hasmonean wars is to make a conceptual leap which demands to be justified. Similarly, it is far from clear that the Hasmoneans wished to follow in Joshua’s footsteps in order to regain the promised land. Whether the historians and Bible scholars who emphasize these references invoke Joshua or David and Solomon as their model, what lies behind their claims is the

7 Don-Yehiya, “Hanukkah and the Myth of the Maccabees,” 17. 8 Such comparisons can seem rather irrelevant in light of contemporary historical debates on the actual size of the kingdom of David. However, it is the memory of David and Solomon in Judean society during the Hasmonean period that matters here.

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notion that the Hasmoneans attempted to restore the sovereignty of the people of Israel over the biblical land of Israel.9 But was this really the case? In this introduction, I trace the development of the “paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land” (i. e. the land of Israel), which is the name I give to this historiographical paradigm, whether it emphasizes Joshua or David and Solomon. This leads me to examine various interpretations of sources relating to the Hasmonean period in the works of several nineteenth- and twentieth-century historians, Orientalists, theologians and Bible scholars.10 After highlighting some of the major methodological problems raised by the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land, which has dominated the scholarship on the Hasmoneans since roughly the middle of the twentieth century, I describe my approach in this book. As may already be clear, my historiographical ambitions in this book are twofold: I seek both to contribute to the history of the Hasmonean period and to present a wider historiographical, or even hermeneutic, argument. I wish to show how certain readings of the sources have led to the construction of often superficially self-evident but deeply misguided historiographical paradigms. The fact that I shall be debating the ideas of a certain number of historians who have come before me, means that I have deemed it necessary to quote as often and as extensively as possible from secondary sources, i. e. from historical analyses produced in the last few decades. To lift a quotation out of its context is to run the risk of distorting its author’s argument: however, this is better than paraphrase, since readers have no control over paraphrase without going back to the sources and checking them for themselves. Although it may be a little cumbersome to read a text laden with so many quotations, I consider that these extensive quotes put the readers in the best possible position to make up their own minds.

9 This paradigm only refers to biblical models, not to the related but separate question of whether or not the Hasmoneans perceived their actions to have been mandated by God. 10 Joshua Efron has written (and severely criticized) the history of the scholarhip on the Hasmonean period, but his main focus is on the Pharisees and their relationship with the Hasmoneans; see Studies on the Hasmonean Period (Leiden–New York: Brill, 1987), 1–32 (chap. 1: “The Hasmonean Revolt in Modern Historiography”). In his book Jews, Idumaeans and Ancient Arabs: Relations of the Jews in Eretz-Israel with the Nations of the Frontier and the Desert during the Hellenistic and Roman Era (332 BCE–70 CE) (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1988), Aryeh Kasher (a student of Efron, to whom this book is dedicated) also provides a survey of the opinions of several nineteenth- and twentieth-century historians: however, he only examines the “forced conversion” of the Idumeans (see 51–55). For an account of some of the leading works of scholarship on the Hasmoneans, see Uriel Rappaport, The House of the Hasmoneans: The People of Israel in the Land of Israel in the Hasmonean Period (Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2013), 48–69 (Heb.); for an account of this scholarship until the early 1970s, see Samuel Schafler, The Hasmoneans in Jewish Historiography.

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1. A brief overview of one hundred years of historical scholarship on the Hasmonean period (ca. 1850–1950) Considering the steep increase in the number of books on Jewish history from the nineteenth century onward, I cannot lay claim to being exhaustive in this introduction. Instead, I focus on a limited number of works which I consider to be of particular interest and significance. In other words, my analysis obviously needs to be complemented, especially since the scope of my argument is restricted to historical scholarship on the Hasmonean wars and the territorial expansion that ensued, as opposed to the Hasmonean period as a whole.11 Let me start by emphasizing that the interpretation of the Hasmonean wars of conquest as a reconquest of the promised land seems to have been widespread among Eastern European Jewish historians from the nineteeth century onwards, whereas this was not necessarily the case among their Western counterparts. According to Samuel Schafler, “Eastern European Jewish scholarship never accepted the categories in which and with which Western European Jewish scholarship operated, namely, the separation of Jewish religion from Jewish nationalism.”12 We shall see that indeed, the question whether statehood and political life were compatible with “Judaism” or Jewish devotion to God and the Law, played a great role in the Western scholarly debate about the Hasmonean period, in particular from Hyrcanus onwards. Concerning Eastern European Jewish scholarship, Schafler draws particular attention to the case of Nahman Krochmal (1785–1840), about whom he writes: “Even the military conquests of the Hasmoneans evoked admiration from Krochmal, since he considered it just that the boundaries of Eretz Yisrael were enlarged to equal the boundaries under David and Salomon.”13 According to Schafler, Krochmal had a very different perspective than Graetz, for example, who was representative of “Western European Jewish scholarship.”14 11 The majority of nineteenth- and twentieth-century Jewish historians have focused on the relationship between the Hasmoneans and the Pharisees and Sadducees, the reasons for the breakdown in the relationship between the Hasmoneans and the Pharisees, and the relationship between the rabbis and the Hasmonean dynasty. 12 The Hasmoneans in Jewish Historiography, 73. 13 Ibid., 94, quoting from Kitvei Rabbi Nahman Krochmal, ed. Simon Rabinowitz, 77. 14 Schafler does however make an exception to this difference between Eastern and Western Jewish scholarship in the case of the work of the French Jewish historian Joseph Salvador (1779–1873), who for example wrote in his Histoire de la domination romaine en Judée, et de la ruine de Jérusalem, regarding Hyrcanus: “… the Judean prince gave new impetus to the Hasmonean hope of restoring the natural and legal limits of their territory” (by which he probably means “historical”) (“… le prince de Judée poursuivit avec une nouvelle force la pensée asmonéenne qui consistait à rétablir le territoire dans ses limites naturelles et légales,” Histoire de la domination romaine [Brussels: Meline, Cans et Cie, 1847], 1:80). Commenting on Salvador’s book, Schafler suggests that it “was written while Salvador was still under the spell of his dream of a renascent Jewish State in Palestine” (ibid., 74).

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The perspective of the famous German historian of Judaism Heinrich Grätz (often spelled Graetz) (1817–1891) was indeed different. I shall base my analysis of his work on the 1891 English version of Geschichte der Juden von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die Gegenwart – History of the Jews from the Earliest Times to the Present Day –, which he was able to revise himself before his death.15 Graetz, who was one of the first to write a comprehensive history of the Jewish people from a Jewish perspective, attached great importance to the period stretching from the Maccabean revolt to the destruction of the Second Temple, considering it the most interesting part of Jewish history.16 His vision of the Hasmonean dynasty was in many ways influenced by his experience of life as a diasporic Jew, as the following passage illustrates: “Judah Macca­beus was a true hero of Israel, who only resorted to bloodshed when compelled by necessity in order to recover lost freedom, and to raise a humbled people.”17 Portraying the Jewish people as weak and oppressed, Graetz argues that Judas adopted a defensive stance. However, he emphasizes that, not content with religious freedom, the Hasmoneans also sought to achieve political independence (1:489). Nevertheless, he suggests that what John Hyrcanus really tried to achieve as he extended the borders of Judea was freedom for his people.18 Thus, he argues that if Hyrcanus wanted to “reconquer” Idumea, Samaria and various other parts of the Transjordanian territories, it was for reasons of national security, because their population was hostile to the Judeans.19 Although Graetz implicitly alludes to the past and the biblical territory when he uses the verb “reconquer,” he does not 15 The first German edition of vol. 3, on the period stretching from 160 B.C.E. to 70 C.E. (Geschichte der Juden von dem Tode des Juda Makkabi’s bis zum Untergang des jüdischen Staates) was published in 1856. It subsequently underwent several revisions, and the number of pages doubled. 16 On Graetz’s relationship to the Hasmonean period, see D. R. Schwartz, “Judeans, Jews, and their Neighbors: Jewish Identity in the Second Temple Period,” in Between Cooperation and Hostility: Multiple Identities in Ancient Judaism and the Interaction with Foreign Powers (R. ­Albertz and J. Wöhrle, ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), 13–31; idem, Judeans and Jews: Four Faces of Dichotomy in Ancient Jewish History (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 2014), 62–82. 17 History of the Jews, from the Earliest Times until the Present Day (trans. B. Lowy; London: David Nutt, 1891), 1:461. 18 2:1: “Under his predecessors Judaea was confined to a narrow space, and even within these bounds there were territories in the possession of foreign foes. Hyrcanus enlarged the boundaries of the State, and thus gave freedom to its closely confined members.” 19 2:7: “Hyrcanus therefore considered it as his mission to reconquer all those lands, and either to expel their inhabitants or to incorporate them with the Judaeans. For so long as foreign and hostile tribes existed in the very heart of the country, its political independence and religious stability would be in constant danger. Not only were they ever ready to join surrounding nations, and assist in their greed for conquest, but they also often interfered with the religious worship of the Judeans, thus frequently giving rise to acts of violence and bloodshed. Hyrcanus was consequently impelled by religious as well as by political motives, to extinguish the fires that were constantly bursting forth into flames of violent hostility” (the emphasis is mine).

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make it clear what episode of biblical history he has in mind. He draws comparisons between the brilliance of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus and the reign of Solomon, but also between the difficulties they ended facing (2:1). Later on, in the same chapter on Hyrcanus, a discussion of the prosperity and security the Judeans managed to achieve leads him to draw another comparison between the Judeans and the Israelites under David and Solomon: “The glorious era of David and Solomon seemed to have returned” (2:11). In his conclusion, he returns to his earlier comparison between the reigns of Hyrcanus and Solomon, in order to emphasize the chaos into which both kingdoms eventually descended: “Hyrcanus bore some resemblance to his prototype Solomon, inasmuch as that, after the death of both dissensions broke out, and the country became a prey to constant strife and discord” (2:34). There is one chapter of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus that Graetz considers beyond the pale: the “forced conversion” of the Idumeans. This episode inspires him to write that: For the first time the Judaeans, under their leader John Hyrcanus, practised intolerance against other faiths; but they soon found out, to their painful cost, how dangerous it is to allow religious zeal to degenerate into the spirit of arbitrary conversion. The enforced union of the sons of Edom with the sons of Jacob was fraught with disasters to the latter. It was through the Idumaeans and the Romans that the Hasmonaean dynasty was overthrown and the Judaean nation destroyed. (2:8–9)20

Graetz probably understands the “forced conversion” of the Idumeans in light of the forced conversions Jews had to endure in the context of Christianity, and this is why he (rather anachronistically) interprets this episode as a sign of religious intolerance and condemns it so unequivocally. Indeed, Graetz also believed that Hyrcanus was responsible for the decision to conquer and convert the Itureans, although the Hasmonean high priest was not able to carry this out before his death. According to Graetz, Hyrcanus’ expansionist ambitions were directly related to the rebellion that he faced at the end of his life: “For the second time the Judaean State, having reached its highest pinnacle of prosperity, experienced the fatal consequences of pursuing an ambitious policy of aggrandizement” (2:13). In fact, a few lines before, Graetz wrote that “Towards the end of his reign Hyrcanus assumed more the character of a worldly potentate, and became more and more ambitious, his constant aim being to enlarge his country and to increase his own power” (2:12–13). The so-called “worldliness” of the Hasmoneans – which became their “secularity” under the pen of later authors – is a recurrent subject of discussion in the scholarship on the Hasmonean 20 In his Sefer HaKabbalah, Abraham Ibn David (17 th c.) also suggests that there is a connection between the Hasmonean dynasty and the advent of Rome. However, he primarily considers this advent as the punishment meted out to the Hasmoneans for the transgression they committed when they usurped the kingship, by rights the privilege of the House of David (see Samuel Schafler, The Hasmoneans in Jewish Historiography, 36).

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dynasty, and this is directly related to scholarly debates on the reasons behind their wars of conquest. Graetz seems to have been ambivalent on this question, because a few pages later, he writes that “Religion was still the great motive power in the country, and showed its strength even in the abuse to which it gave rise when it forced Judaism upon the heathens” (2:16). Writing on the accession to power of Antiper’s family in the following century, Graetz observes once again that “The fanaticism of Hyrcanus I was now to bring ruin upon his house and family” (2:59). Although Graetz’s account of John Hyrcanus appears somewhat contradictory – Graetz presents him both as a worldly, power-hungry leader and as a religious fanatic bent on imposing Judaism to non-Jews – in the end, these pages sketch a rather unflattering portrait of the man who was responsible for enlarging Judea. As for Aristobulus and Jannaeus, they fare even less well.21 However, one of the fascinating aspects of Graetz’s narrative is that it contains the seeds of almost all the themes and motifs found in later debates on the Hasmonean period. Is the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land present in the work of Graetz? Not exactly. Even if he uses the word “reconquest” on one occasion and compares the Hasmoneans to David and Solomon, he nevertheless considers that the Hasmonean wars of conquest were originally motivated by a desire to protect the Judean people and their religion, even if they also manifested the increasing drive for power of the Hasmoneans. Graetz did not seriously think that Hyrcanus, Aristobulus and Jannaeus were driven by the dream of restoring Eretz Israel, despite implicitly emitting this hypothesis on one occasion. The Franco-German historian and Orientalist Joseph Derenbourg (1811–1895) makes several references to Graetz’s work in his Essai sur l’histoire et la géographie de la Palestine, d’après les thalmuds et les autres sources rabbiniques.22 As the title of his book suggests, Derenbourg, versed in rabbinic sources since childhood, provides us with a reasonably faithful account of the point of view presented in these texts. For him, the early Hasmoneans were heroes, as well as extremely pious men: he portrays Simon and John Hyrcanus as devoted students of the Law (Essai, 70–71). However, he considers that from the break between Hyrcanus and the Pharisees onward, the popularity of the dynasty was in decline (Essai, 115). Writing about the Hasmonean wars of conquest, shortly after describing the death of Antiochus IV, Derembourg notes in passing that:

21 To wit these lines on Jannaeus: “Alexander Jannaeus, who came to the throne at the age of twenty-three, was as belligerent as the family from which he sprung, but he was wanting in the generalship and the judgment of his ancestors. He rushed madly into warlike undertakings, thus weakening the power of the people, and bringing the State more than once to the verge of destruction. The seven and twenty years of his reign were passed in foreign and civil wars, and were not calculated to increase the material prosperity of the nation” (2:39). 22 See volume 1, Histoire de la Palestine depuis Cyrus jusqu’à Adrien (Paris: Imprimerie impériale, 1867).

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The struggle, which initially had been religious, became entirely political. Mattathias had taken up arms against the blasphemers to avenge the God of Israel; his sons, exalted by their victories, gradually conceived the hope of conquering the country which had belonged to their ancestors, while also ensuring that they would have freedom of worship. (Essai sur l’histoire et la géographie de la Palestine, 1:64)23

When he made this observation, Derenbourg may have been thinking of 1 Macc 15:33–35, a passage that played a key role in the elaboration of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land and relates the answer that Simon gave to king Antiochus VII when the latter demanded payment of one thousand talents, in compensation for the fact that the Judeans were occupying Joppa, Gazara and the Citadel of Jerusalem, and had taken power in several parts of his kingdom (1 Macc 15:28–31). In his reply Simon argued that they had not taken possession of a foreign territory but reclaimed “the inheritance of our fathers,” even if he did think that Joppa and Gazara belonged in a different category (1 Macc 15:33–35).24 Whatever his direct influences, it is interesting that Derenbourg considers these wars of conquest political rather than religious. Moreover, he notes with disappointment that their victories stripped the Hasmoneans of: … the heartfelt simplicity with which they had worked to bring back their national cult. Serving the God of Israel and succeeding to Simeon the Just no longer satisfied their ambition: they also wanted to reign over Judea and succeed to the House of David. From then on, the priesthood was reconstituted around and paid court to the pontiff, now a leader with temporal powers. This combination of sacred and profane powers had a deleterious influence: the temple became a palace, solemn religious rituals borrowed from the pomp of royal pageants, pious offerings became fiscal taxes (etc.). (Essai, 1:119–120)25

Derenbourg clearly sympathizes with the decision, which he attributes to the Pharisees, to focus exclusively on the study of the sacred texts, without conflating religion and politics. It is worth bearing in mind that Derembourg was at

23 Original French text: “La lutte, de religieuse qu’elle avait été au début, devint toute politique. Matathias s’était armé pour venger le Dieu d’Israël sur ses blasphémateurs; ses fils, exaltés par les victoires qu’ils remportent, conçoivent peu à peu l’espérance de conquérir, en même temps que la liberté du culte, le pays qui avait appartenu à leurs ancêtres.” 24 For a detailed study of this passage, see Part I, § 6. 25 Original French text: “… cette simplicité de coeur avec laquelle ils s’étaient consacrés au rétablissement du culte national. Etre les serviteurs dévoués du Dieu d’Israël, succéder à Siméon le Juste, cela ne suffit plus à leur ambition; ils veulent être les maîtres de la Judée, succéder à la famille royale de David. Dès ce moment, le sacerdoce se reconstitue autour du pontife, et, ce pontife étant devenu un chef temporel, les prêtres lui forment une cour. Sous l’influence de ce mélange du sacré avec le profane, tout s’altère et se dénature: le temple se change en palais, les solennités religieuses empruntent quelque chose à la pompe royale, les pieuses offrandes de­ viennent des taxes fiscales (etc.).”

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one point the vice president of the Alliance israélite universelle and a member of the Israelite Consistory of Paris, both of which kept Zionist views at a distance in those days. Derembourg also relays the notion that from John Hyrcanus or his sons onwards, their lifestyle and government became increasingly “worldly” or “secular,” a negative perception of the Hasmoneans that was already present in the work of Graetz. Ultimately, Derenbourg does consider that the descendants of Mattathias attempted to reconquer the land of their ancestors (although he does not specify where its borders would have been). However, he considers this project to have been motivated not so much by a reference to a divine plan or a religious injunction as by political ambition – and politics had negative connotations in his eyes. Although Joseph Derenbourg does have more sympathy for the Pharisees than for the Hasmoneans, his analysis is far from being as black and white as the judgement that Ernest Renan (1823–1892) passes on the Hasmonean dynasty in volumes 4 and 5 of his Histoire du peuple d’Israël (History of the people of Israel), both of which were published posthumously. According to Renan: The new dynasty displayed all the faults of Oriental dynasties and bad Jews. Forgetting its origins, it was fanatical without piety, and soon became a secular dynasty; it thwarted the true destiny of its people, laying the ground for Herod and combatting Jesus even before his birth. This was not where the true glory of Israel would come from. (Histoire du peuple d’Israël, 4:368)26

In other words, the Hasmonean dynasty was guilty of both religious fanaticism and secularism.27 This is what Renan writes about the peace treaty which the Hasmoneans negotiated with Lysias, in order to allow the Jews to live according to their

26 French original text: “La nouvelle dynastie aura tous les défauts des dynasties orientales, tous les défauts des mauvais Juifs. Oublieuse de ses origines, fanatique sans piété, elle tournera bien vite à la dynastie profane; elle contrariera les vraies destinées du peuple; elle préparera Hérode, et combattra Jésus, avant qu’il soit né. Ce n’est pas de là que viendra la vraie gloire d ­ ’Israël.” 27 Compare this with what Renan says of other figures in his Histoire du peuple d’Israël: he portrays Judas as a true man of war “as devoted to his cause as a fanatic” (“dévoué à sa cause comme un fanatique,” 4:338) and describes him, in connection with 1 Maccabees 5, as a man who had become “a true soldier, a secular leader” (“Judas était devenu un vrai soldat, un chef profane,” 4:372). This is how he describes Jonathan: “He does not seem to have been a very religious soul; his role forced him to display fanaticism and cruelty” (“Son âme paraît avoir été peu religieuse; il était fanatique et cruel par les nécessités de son rôle,” 4:407). As for Jannaeus, “he was a strict, indeed fanatical, Jew. He exterminated entire peoples to extend the borders of his circumcised kingdom” (“il était un Juif rigoureux, nous dirions même fanatique; il exterminait des populations pour agrandir les frontières du royaume circoncis,” 5:115); concerning the last years of his reign, Renan adds: “The Holy War and pious acts of extermination he had carried out abroad atoned for the religious crimes that could be put on his shoulders within the walls of his own kingdom” (“Il avait réparé par la guerre sainte et par des exterminations pieu­ ses, à l’extérieur, les crimes religieux qu’on pouvait lui reprocher à l’intérieur,” 5:118).

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laws: “A truly righteous man, who distinguishes religion from politics, could not have wished for more” (4:378–379).28 This remark suggests that for Renan, what made the Hasmonean dynasty “secular” was primarily the fact that it showed no respect for religion by mixing it with politics. Renan and Derenbourg were thus paradoxically united in their call for religion to steer clear of politics. However, unlike Jewish historians, Renan considered the Hasmonean period to have been one of the saddest in history (5:33).29 He explains why on page 36: “These dismal years had fostered a spirit of conquest. The clearest result of the Hasmonean period was the forced circumcision of vast numbers of people who were not of the same race as the Israelites.”30 Although Renan echoes Graetz’s condemnation of these “forced conversions,” his overall perspective is diametrically opposite to that of Graetz. A last point that deserves attention is that Renan compares Hyrcanus to Solomon: “From a temporal point of view, the reign of John Hyrcanus was very successful. He extended the boundaries of the kingdom almost as far back as in the days of Solomon” (5:38).31 This positive (indeed rather exaggerated, in light of biblical data) observation is yet another illustration of the tendency of scholars to draw comparisons between the Hasmoneans and the ancient kings of Israel. This being said, Renan does not consider the reconstitution of the kingdom of Solomon – and the reconquest of the promised land, more widely – to have been the objective of John Hyrcanus and his successors. He limits himself to suggesting a comparison. While the work of Ernest Renan was very influential in France at the end of the nineteenth century, in Germany this period coincided with the publication of the work of the Protestant theologian Julius Wellhausen (1844–1918), whose documentary hypothesis would have a lasting influence on interpretations of the Old Testament. Almost exactly at the same time as Renan’s Histoire du peuple d’Israël came out, Wellhausen published his Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte (1894),32 where he clearly sides with the Jewish revolt, perceiving it as motivated by a desire to observe the Law. His account of these events is a relatively faithful

28 Original text: “Un vrai juste, séparant la religion de la politique, ne pouvait désirer plus”. Writing on the subject of Jonathan’s nomination as high priest, he also claims that “The Hasmonean dynasty was brought down by the unnatural cumulation of military and sacerdotal power” (“La dynastie asmonéenne périt par ce cumul contre-nature du pouvoir militaire et du pouvoir sacerdotal,” 4:399). 29 Let us not forget that Graetz considered it one of the most fascinating episodes of Jewish history. See Schwartz, Judeans and Jews, 62–82. 30 Original text: “Ce qui se développa dans ces tristes années, ce fut l’esprit de conquête. La circoncision forcée d’un grand nombre de populations non israélites de race, voilà le résultat le plus clair de la période asmonéenne.” 31 Original text: “Au point de vue temporel, le règne de Jean Hyrcan fut extrêmement heureux. Il rétablit presque le royaume dans ses anciennes limites du temps de Salomon.” 32 Julius Wellhausen, Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte (Berlin: G. Reimer, 1904).

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rendition of the Books of Maccabees and the work of Josephus. Unlike Renan, Wellhausen generally refrains from making personal comments. This is how he analyses the Hasmonean expansion: One step at a time, the Hasmoneans moved their agenda forward. Initially, their goal had been the freedom of cult, then it was the control of the old aristocracy and the high priesthood, and, after that, independence from Syrian rule. Now it was the wars of conquest. The old borders of the Jerusalem area had already been pushed back a little: three districts from Samaritis, whose inhabitants were apparently Judean, had been joined to Judea, while Jonathan and Simon had won Joppa and Gazara, and settled these provinces with Judeans after expelling their original population. However, they only started acting on a grander scale with Hyrcanus, who took it upon himself to restore the ancient borders of the kingdom of David, thus fulfilling the Messianic prophecy. (Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte, 279–280)33

According to Wellhausen, John Hyrcanus set himself the task of reinstating the ancient borders of the kingdom of David in order to return it to its former size (“im alten Umfang”), thus accomplishing the prophecy. (Wellhausen does not explain which prophecy, but he is probably alluding to those of Jeremiah or Ezekiel on the restoration of the kingdom of Judah following their exile from Babylon). The German theologian thus endowed the paradigm of the reconquest (in this case in connection with the kingdom of David) with a Messianic dimension. According to him, Jannaeus followed in his father’s footsteps: It is clear that his military activities promoted the spread of Judaism. However, there is no evidence that he forcibly judaized the Greek cities he conquered; when Pompey

33 German original text: “Von Stufe zu Stufe schritten die Hasmonäer fort. Zuerst war die Freiheit des Kultus ihr Ziel gewesen, dann die Verdrängung der alten Aristokratie und das Hohe­ priestertum, dann die Unabhängigkeit von der syrischen Oberherrschaft. Jetzt begann der Eroberungskrieg. Schon früher war zwar das Gebiet von Jerusalem ein wenig über die alten Grenzen hinaus erweitert. Drei Bezirke der Samaritis, die jedoch wie es scheint von Juden bewohnt wurden, waren hinzugekommen; Jonathan und Simon hatten Gazera und Jope erworben und nach Austreibung der alten Bevölkerung mit Juden besiedelt. Aber im größeren Stil griff erst Hyrkan die Aufgabe an, das Reich Davids im alten Umfang herzustellen und auf diese Weise die messianische Weissagung zu erfüllen.” On the subject of the forced conversion of the Idumeans, Wellhausen adds: “We can see that the struggle against Antiochus Epiphanes was not essentially a fight for religious freedom” (“Man sieht, daß der Kampf gegen Antiochus Epiphanes nicht für die Religionsfreiheit im Prinzip geführt worden ist,” 280). It is interesting to note his anachronistic use of the notion of “religious freedom” (Religionsfreiheit) in the context of the Hasmonean period.

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freed these cities, the majority of their population was still pagan. … Jannaeus was no fanatical brute. (ibid., 286)34

In these lines, Wellhausen is revealed as an attentive reader of Josephus. The account he makes of Jannaeus could not be further from Renan’s. He also takes into account signs that point to the Hellenisation of the Hasmonean kingdom. On the subject of the breakdown of the relationship between Jannaeus and the Pharisees, Wellhausen shares his predecessors’ tendency to suggest that the Hasmoneans had lost touch with their early religious ideals, and he attributes their lack of legitimacy to the fact that they had become “worldly leaders” (“weltliche Herrscher,” 298). Indeed, Wellhausen implies that this had an impact on Judean society as a whole, and that politics and religion did not sit well together, threatening the very essence of Judaism: Political interests outweighed religious interests, and patriotism the zeal for the Law. … The Maccabean uprising saved Judaism, yet attacked its very essence, posing an even greater threat than the violence of Antiochus Epiphanes. Nationalisation turned out to be synonymous with secularisation. The nation risked straying from the path of righteousness onto the path of power and glory. (ibid., 298–299)35

Discussing the conflict that pitted Jannaeus against the Pharisees, who, according to him, stayed faithful to the ideals of the Law and steered clear of politics, he writes: “It was not merely Jannaeus himself who was the target of this feud; instead, the Pharisees fought against the Sadducees in order to defend their idea of the theocracy against its falsification, and the Law against the kingdom of David.”36 Significantly, Wellhausen associates the “kingdom of David” with patriotism and politics, as opposed to fidelity to the Law, a concept which he does not seem to have believed compatible with the burden of managing the affairs of a state. Thus, although he describes Hyrcanus’ ambition to reconstitute the kingdom of David as a Messianic project, Wellhausen paradoxically ends up representing the completion of this project by the descendants of Hyrcanus as a kind of degradation, since a religious concern was reduced to a political matter. Moreover, Wellhausen 34 Original text: “Daß er durch seine kriegerische Tätigkeit die Ausbreitung des Judentums beförderte, versteht sich von selbst. Daß er aber die bezwungenen Griechenstädte gewaltsam juda­isirt habe, ist nicht bezeugt; als Pompeius sie befreite, war die Majoritöt der Bevölkerung noch heidnisch. … Ein fanatischer Wüterich war Jannäus nicht.” 35 Original text: “Das politische Interesse überwog das religiöse, der Patriotismus den Eifer für das Gesetz. … Durch die makkabäische Erhebung wurde das Judentum gerettet und doch zugleich in seinem innersten Wesen noch mehr bedroht als durch die Gewaltsamkeit des Antiochus Epiphanes. Die Nationalisirung erwies sich als gleichbedeutend mit der Verweltlichung. Die Nation drohte von der Bahn der Gerechtigkeit in die Bahn der Macht und Ehre abzuirren.” 36 Original text: “Der Kampf gegen Jannäus richtete sich nicht bloß gegen seine Person, es war vielmehr der Kampf der Pharisäer gegen die Sadducäer, für die Idee der Theokratie gegen ihre Verfälschung, für das Gesetz gegen das Reich Davids” (ibid.).

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explains that the Pharisees also dreamed of the kingdom of David, but considered it an ideal, an eschatological hope “which only a divine miracle could bring back on earth” (“und durfte nur durch ein göttliches Wunder auf die Erde kommen,” 301). It is worth noting that this is an exact reflection of the chief arguments that Orthodox Judaism opposed to Zionism at the end of the nineteenth century: although the notion that the Jewish people could once again have a national existence on the land of Israel was a legitimate ideal, only divine intervention and the advent of the Messiah could make this dream come true. Wellhausen’s Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte shared the spotlight with a work by another German Protestant theologian, Emil Schürer: Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes im Zeitalter Jesu Christi, the first volume of which first came out in 1886. This work was reprinted on several occasions, with the addition of new material and revisions by the author. Indeed, this opus was such a remarkable feat of erudition for that period that it was revised and translated into English as late as the 1970s, and this translation, from which I shall quote here when it does not modify the original German text, remains a reference point for the history of the period to this day.37 In this work, Schürer adopts a rather neutral and factual tone and displays a solid knowledge of the sources. There are no traces in his narrative of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land. On the contrary, this is what he writes about the territorial claim that Antiochus VII made to Simon in 1 Macc 15: “The demands were definitely justified, for the Jews could make no valid claim to their conquest.”38 This rather surprising observation, in light of later works of scholarship on the Hasmoneans (see infra), shows that, for Schürer, Simon’s answer was not based on the notion that the territory of the Judeans should be the same as the biblical land of Israel. This is a mark of the lucidity of this great scholar, as we shall see in greater detail in Part I (section 6). Another mark of Schürer’s lucidity is his observation, in a passage on the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus, that “the purely secular nature of his policy is revealed by the fact that he no longer fought these wars with a Jewish army, but was the first of the Jewish princes to hire mercenaries”.39 It is worth noting that

37 E. Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B.C.–A. D. 135) (rev. G. Vermes et al.; Edinburgh, T & T Clark: 1973 [vol. 1] and 1979 [vol. 2]). All my quotes from the German in the footnotes are from the fourth edition of Schürer’s book: published in 1901, this edition includes references to the work of Graetz, Derenbourg, Renan and Well­hausen, among others. 38 Schürer, The History of the Jewish People, 1:198. Original text: “Die Forderungen waren durchaus berechtigte, da die Juden für ihre Eroberungen keinen Rechtstitel geltend machen konnten” (Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes, 1:254). 39 Schürer, The History of the Jewish People, 1:207. Original text: “Der rein weltliche Charakter seiner Politik zeigt sich aber noch besonders darin, dass er diese Kriege nicht mehr mit einem jüdischen Volksheere, sondern – als der erste der jüdischen Fürsten – mit einem gedungenen Söldnerheere führte” (265).

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Schürer’s use of the word “weltlich” (“worldly,” “secular”) echoes the language of Graetz, as well as the idea that Hasmonean power became progressively more secular. Schürer was quite right to think that the decision by Hyrcanus to resort to foreign mercenaries was significant and had to be taken into account – I shall return to this in Part II –, although his characterisation of Hyrcanus’ rule as secular is open to criticism. If, when he examines the successes of John Hyrcanus on the battlefield, Schürer draws a – by then familiar – comparison between the Hasmoneans and the kingdom of Solomon, this is only to make the point that the Judeans had not had dominion over such a vast territory since Solomon (Geschichte, 273). Schürer also allows himself to voice a few criticisms of the Hasmoneans in his account of the reign of Jannaeus. He interprets the destruction of the Hellenized cities of Coele-­ Syria as an attempt to destroy Greek culture itself: “For in this, Alexander Jannaeus was still Jew enough to do his utmost to subject the conquered territories to Jewish customs.”40 Later on, he draws a portrait of Jannaeus as an Oriental despot, in an account which recalls some of Renan’s remarks (Geschichte, 288). However, he generally refrains from painting the Hasmoneans as fanatics, raiders or bandits, unlike Renan before him and Eduard Meyer after him. Eduard Meyer (1855–1930) was a German historian, Egyptologist and Orientalist, and the author of a monumental and at the time very highly-regarded Geschichte des Alterthums. Like many other Catholic and Protestant authors, his interest in the Hasmonean period stemmed from a broader preoccupation with the context of early Christianity. In his book Ursprung und Anfänge des Christentums (3 vol., 1921–1923), he describes the Hasmonean kingdom as a bandit state.41 He compares the Hasmoneans to Arab tribes,42 and above all portrays them as fana­ tical followers of the Book of Deuteronomy who went about brutally eradicating their Jewish and “Pagan” opponents, and destroying Greek culture. After observing that by laying claim to a royal title, the Hasmoneans entered into the circle of “the legitimate states of the civilized world,” Meyer further writes:

40 Schürer, The History of the Jewish People, 1:228. Original text: “Denn darin war Alexander Jannäus noch immer Jude, dass er die eroberten Gebiete, soweit es ging, den jüdischen Sitten unterwarf ” (286). 41 “Raubstaat” (2:281). 42 He calls the Itureans “arabischer Räuberstamm” (Ursprung und Anfänge des Christentums, 2:274). The association of Judeans and Arabs, and their common portrayal as bandits, come from classical sources such as Strabo’s Geography (see Part II, § 1).

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In reality, the Hasmoneans had remained true Jewish fanatics, but the religious fana­ ticism which they shared with their people was also the foundation of their power, and they did not hesitate to unleash their untrammelled brutality against internal foes and their own family. (Ursprung und Anfänge des Christentums, 2:277)43

A few pages later, Meyer returns to the subject of the influence of Deuteronomy over the Hasmoneans and claims, in a statement which has had a long posterity, that they put into practice the prescriptions of Deuteronomy and followed a model they had found in the Book of Joshua: The prescriptions of Deuteronomy were behind these acts of religious persecution. These prescriptions had been implemented in the fictitious reality presented in the Deuteronomic reworking of the historical books, and first and foremost in the largely fictional stories of the Book of Joshua; now they had become the norm for action in real life and politics. (ibid., 2:281)44

For Meyer, the Hasmonean period thus marked the beginning of the religious intolerance that would later be displayed on a grander scale by Christianity and Islam.45 Under the pen of the Dominican theologian and exegete Marie-Joseph Lagrange (1855–1938), who founded the École biblique et archéologique française in Jerusalem, we find again the motif of the “secular” nature of the Hasmonean wars, at least from John Hyrcanus onwards. This is what he writes in connection with the death of Simon:46 This marks the end of the Book of Maccabees, and the beginning of another era, no less fertile in wars, but lacking in the spirit of religious enthusiasm that stirred the soul in the days of the first heroes. Only the three sons of Mattathias bear the name

43 German original text: “In Wirklichkeit sind die Hasmonaeer echtjüdische Fanatiker geblieben, nur daß der religiöse Fanatismus, den sie mit ihrem Volk teilten, zugleich der Begründung ihrer Macht diente und sie gar kein Bedenken trugen, ihre wilde Brutalität zugleich gegen die inneren Gegner und gegen die eigene Familie zu kehren.” The anti-Jewish, indeed a­ ntisemitic, character of Meyer’s argument appears clearly in the fanaticism he attributes to the Jewish people as a whole. 44 Original text: “Es sind die Vorschriften des Deuteronomiums, die diese Religionsverfolgung gebieten. In der deuteronomistischen Überarbeitung der Geschichtsbücher, vor allem in den großenteils auf freier Erfindung beruhenden Erzählungen des Buchs Josua, sind sie auf dem Papier in eine fiktive Wirklichkeit umgesetzt; jetzt werden sie die Norm des Handelns im realen Leben und in der Politik.” 45 “Was sich im zweiten Jahrhundert v. Chr. auf dem engen Gebiet Palaestinas abspielte, hat sich nachher mehr als einmal auf der Weltbühne im größten Maßstabe wiederholt: die Religionskriege und Ketzer Verfolgungen sowohl des Christentums und später des Kalvinismus wie die in der Theorie weit schrofferen, aber eben darum in der Praxis im allgemeinen milder auftretenden des Islams gehn unmittelbar auf die durch das Deuteronomium geschaffenen Forderungen zurück” (2:281–282). 46 Marie-Joseph Lagrange, Le judaïsme avant Jésus-Christ (Paris: Gabalda, 1931).

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of the Maccabees. Their successors would wage their own wars, rather than those of God. (Le judaïsme avant Jésus-Christ, 101)47

Lagrange nevertheless concedes that the Hasmoneans did not entirely give up on their religious objectives: “Even under John Hyrcanus, war served the purposes of both religion and the nation. They enforced circumcision on the people they conquered” (ibid., 106).48 Although those who came after Hyrcanus primarily sought to “enlarge their domain” (ibid., 131), they were nevertheless still spurred on by “a spirit of aggressive proselytism” (ibid.). Drawing heavily on the works of Wellhausen and Schürer, Lagrange also shares their hesitation regarding the “religious” or “worldly” character of the dynasty, which combined both of these aspects.49 Ultimately, Lagrange is ambivalent about the wars waged by John Hyrcanus and his successors, which he perceives as motivated by a mixture of human ambition and proselytism, or religious zeal. The Dominican friar Félix-Marie Abel (1878–1953), another great figure of French Catholic exegesis, was an authority on the Books of Maccabees and on the history and geography of the Holy Land. The second volume of his Géographie de la Palestine (Paris: Gabalda, 1933) includes commentaries which echo those of other scholars who emphasize the gap between the struggle waged by the sons of Mattathias and Hasmoneans policies from John Hyrcanus onwards. Simon continued his [Jonathan’s] work and with his son the project of liberation turned into a programme of conquests. … he could not resist giving in to his desire for hegemony or to the personal and national rancour he harboured, even when this meant appealing to mercenary troops and alienating the religious parties of Juda-

47 Original text: “Le livre des Macchabées se termine ici: une autre époque s’ouvre, non moins fertile en guerres, mais dépourvue de ce souffle d’enthousiasme religieux qui soulevait les âmes au temps des premiers héros. Les trois fils de Mattathias sont seuls nommés les Macchabées. Leurs successeurs combattront leurs propres guerres, plutôt que celles de Dieu.” 48 Original text: “Même sous Jean Hyrcan la guerre tendait en même temps au développement de la religion et de la nation. Les peuples conquis étaient obligés à la circoncision.” 49 Like Schürer before him, Lagrange is particularly critical of Alexander Jannaeus: “­Alexander Jannaeus, who had usurped the trone of David, had waged a bitter war against them [the Pharisees]. A few conquests, which had cost a lot of blood to Israel, could not compensate for the contemptuous fate that had befallen the pontificate, represented by a boorish reprobate whom the indignant population treated as an actor who failed to play his part well, even though his was a sacred role.” Original French text: “Alexandre Jannée, usurpateur du trône de David, leur avait fait [aux pharisiens] une guerre acharnée. Quelques conquêtes, chèrement achetées par le sang d’Israël, ne compensaient pas le mépris où était tombé le pontificat, représenté par un soudard débauché, traité par le peuple indigné comme un acteur qui joue mal son rôle, alors que ce rôle était sacré” (Le judaïsme avant Jésus-Christ, 149).

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ism, shocked to see their high priest transformed into a condottiere. (Géographie de la Palestine, 2:137–138)50

In his later works, however, Abel lends greater credence to the religious motivations of the Hasmoneans, arguing that they were inspired by the biblical past. This is what he writes about Simon’s answer to Antiochus VII in 1 Macc 15:33– 35, in his commentary of the Book of Maccabees: “Focusing on the restoration of the territorial integrity of Judea (the kingdom of Judah), Simon’s request was still moderate; in contrast, Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus would dream of the great Israel of the Book of Numbers or Ezekiel or at least of the Israel that went ‘from Dan to the Wadi of Egypt.’”51 In other words, John Hyrcanus and his descendants tried to reconquer the promised land. In his Histoire de la Palestine,52 Abel, unlike Lagrange, refers not just to Schürer (in whose footsteps he treads when he portrays Jannaeus as an Oriental despot [p. 238]), but also to Graetz and Derenbourg. Abel argues that the policy that Hyrcanus followed was motivated by a desire to: exact revenge over the peoples who had helped them [i. e. the apostates in Israel]; crush or subjugate Israel’s hereditary foes, always ready to back the campaigns of the pagan kings against the followers of the Mosaic Law; and turn the Holy Land into a circumcised nation focused on Mount Zion, the one and only Sanctuary. (Histoire de la Palestine, 211)53

Abel also draws a familiar comparison between the size of the kingdoms of Jannaeus, on the one hand, and David and Solomon, on the other (p. 238). The 1930s saw the publication of several major contributions to Hasmonean historiography by Jewish scholars, starting with Arnaldo Momigliano (1908–1987). In his book on the Hasmoneans, Prime linee di storia della tradizione maccabaica (Roma: Società Editrice del “Foro Italiano,” 1931), Momigliano echoes the judgement of several of his predecessors regarding the “worldliness” of the Hasmonean dynasty once the period of their initial rebellion had passed. He also endorses

50 Original French text: “Simon poursuivit son œuvre [celle de Jonathan] et chez son fils Jean Hyrcan l’entreprise de libération tourna en affaire de conquête. … il ne put résister au désir de l’hégémonie ni aux rancunes personnelles ou nationales qui le travaillaient, dût-il faire appel pour cela à des troupes mercenaires et s’aliéner le parti religieux du judaïsme choqué de voir leur grand-prêtre se transformer en condottiere.” 51 Abel, Les livres des Maccabées (Paris: Gabalda, 1949), 272. Original French text: “La requête de Simon reste modérée, il s’agit de restaurer l’intégrité territoriale de la Judée (du royaume de Juda), tandis que Hyrcan et Alexandre Jannée voudront le grand Israël des Nombres ou d’Ezéchiel, ou du moins ‘de Dan jusqu’au torrent d’Egypte’.” 52 Abel, Histoire de la Palestine (Paris: Gabalda, 1952). 53 Original text: “il s’agissait de se venger des peuples qui leur avaient prêté main-forte, d’anéantir ou de subjuguer les ennemis héréditaires d’Israël toujours prêts à seconder les rois païens dans leurs entreprises contre les sectateurs de la loi de Moïse, de faire de la Terre Sainte un pays de circoncis groupés autour du Mont-Sion, le sanctuaire unique.”

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the notion that politics cannot be reconciled with the genuine fidelity to the Law which is the basis for true piety: And the fact that the high priesthood, now an essentially political office thanks to Jonathan Maccabee, should not so much be in the service of God as of politics, was even more contemptible. The experience of a state, which had wanted to be theocratic and held up the Law of the Lord as its supreme norm, therefore showed that state life was diverting (the people) from the pure and sole obedience to God. (Prime linee di storia, 10–11)54

Momigliano also notes the influence of the biblical past on the author of 1 Maccabees, whom he identifies as belonging to the party of the “Assideans” (or Hasideans): “In many respects, 1 Maccabees is steeped in the atmosphere of the Book of Joshua or the Book of Judges, with its tales of heroic fights against neighbouring peoples.”55 Although Momigliano echoes a familiar comparison with Joshua in these lines, this is merely in order to point out a literary similarity between this book and 1 Maccabees: unlike Meyer and other later commentators, he does not imply that the Hasmoneans modelled themselves on Joshua and sought to imitate his actions “in real life”. The opposition between state life and religion or obedience to the Law is also found in the work of Salo Wittmayer Baron (1895–1989), who can be considered the first great American Jewish historian. Baron devotes the fifth chapter of volume I of A Social and Religious History of the Jews (New York: Columbia University Press, 1937) to “The Expansion of Judaism,” that is the period of the Hasmonean conquests. Although he suggests that the Hasmonean dynasty was unpopular (p. 129), he salutes its successful expansion of the Judean territory: Within a few decades, John Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus, the great conquerors of the age, annexed Samaria, Galilee, Transjordan, Idumea and the coastal plain in quick succession. In all regions supposed to have been previously Israelitic the inhabitants were forced to accept the Jewish creed so that idolatry would not contaminate the traditional holiness of the Land. Only the Samaritans, regarded as half-Jews, were allowed to retain their creed. (A Social and Religious History of the Jews, 1:130)

Baron’s use of the term “Israelitic” seems to refer to the overall territorial conquests of the Israelites under Joshua or the kings of Israel and Judah, since northern Israel could hardly have encompassed Idumea and the coastal plain. In other

54 Original Italian text: “E molto maggiormente doveva essere visto con disdegno che il Sommo Sacerdozio, trasformato in carica essenzialmente politica con Jonathan Maccabeo, curasse non tanto il servizio divino quanto la politica. L’esperienza di uno Stato, che pure voleva essere teocratico e riteneva la Legge del Signore come norma suprema, dimostrava dunque che la vita statale allontanava dalla obbedienza pura e sola a Dio.” 55 Original Italian text: “Siamo per molti aspetti nel I Maccabei in un’atmosfera da ‘Libro di Giosuè’ o da ‘Libro dei Giudici’ con le lotte eroiche verso i popoli circostanti” (ibid., 17).

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words, Baron seems to imply that John Hyrcanus and his successors sought to restore an ancient dominion dating back to biblical times, on the Promised or “Holy” Land as a whole. According to Baron, if there were “forced conversions,” this was because it was necessary to eradicate idolatry from the land of Israel, in line with the Pentateuchal prescriptions regarding the Canaanites. In the context of his analysis of the conflict between the Sadducees (i. e. the Hasmoneans, in Baron’s perspective) and the Pharisees, Baron elaborates a very interesting dichotomy between them: whereas the Sadducees and the Hasmoneans were influenced by the model of the Hellenistic kingdoms (where the politeia trumped the ethnos) and were, as such, invested in the idea of the state, the Pharisees did not attach much significance to the state. Instead, they valued ethnicity, that is, the fact of belonging to the people of Israel – i. e. what Baron calls “nationality” (163–164). Indeed, Baron even speaks of “the desire of the Pharisees for the extinction of the Jewish state” (165). Conversely, he suggests that the Sadducees and Hasmoneans exalted the state, and he adds that: Along with the glorification of the state, naturally went the glorification of Palestine. To restore to its ancient purity the territory of ancient Israel was one of the chief aims of the new policy. It must not be defiled by idolatry, not even by a sectarian temple such as the Samaritan sanctuary on Mt. Gerizim. Outside the boundaries of ancient Israel, however, all could remain Gentiles, and the populations of former Moabite and Ammonite territories were not subjected to circumcision. (A Social and Religious History of the Jews, 1:163–164)

The reference Baron makes to the “territory of ancient Israel” shows once again just how important biblical references are to his reading of the Hasmonean conquests. It is nevertheless worth observing that the concern for territorial purity that Baron attributes to the Sadducees, connecting it with the glorification of the state, implicitly stands in contrast with the values of religion and ethnicity (i. e. “nationality”) defended by the Pharisees. It is also clear that Baron’s own sympathies were with the Pharisees.56 In other words, although Salo Baron did grasp the significance of Hellenistic models for the Hasmonean dynasty, he nevertheless believed that the campaigns waged by Simon, John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I and Alexander Jannaeus expressed their will to expand the territory of Israel back to its biblical borders.

56 On the subject of American Jewish historians in general, Samuel Schafler writes: “This ‘American approach to Jewish history’ is characterized by a downgrading of what we may call the national element in favor of the spiritual component of Judaism and a deprecation of the Hasmoneans as the exemplars of the national element with its unfortunate emphasis on ‘the trappings of sovereignty’” (The Hasmoneans in Jewish Historiography, 120). He also writes: “On American shores only a religiously defined Judaism could expect to survive under the unique pressures of the American ‘melting pot’” (ibid.).

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No other historian from that period understood the significance of the Hellenistic context better than Elias Bickerman, author of Das Gott der Makkabäer (published in 1937) and Institutions des Séleucides (Paris: Geuthner, 1938). A mixture of pragmatism and close attention to institutions characterize his approach. There is no trace of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land in his work. In a passage on the wars waged by Jonathan and Simon,57 he notes that the two brothers waged war as generals of the Seleucid rulers on several occasions: Jonathan and Simon made their conquests as condottieri of the pretenders to the Syrian throne, whose partisans threw the gates of the rebellious cities open to them. … Although Jonathan and Simon after him continued to hold the cities they had won, garrisoning them for security, it was clear that as soon as the dynastic struggles of the Seleucids ended they would have to restore their conquests to their legitimate suzerains. (From Ezra to the Last of the Maccabees, 144)

Finally, commenting on the exchange between Athenobius and Simon in 1 Macc 15, Bickerman does not understand Simon’s answer to mean that he was laying claim to the land of Israel as a whole.58 The years leading up to World War II and the creation of the State of Israel saw the creation of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in 1925 and the emergence of a modern Jewish historiography in Hebrew. However, it was in German that in 1933 the journal Monatschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums published a seminal article by Hans (Yohanan) Lewy (1901–1945), the same year he took up a position at the Hebrew University.59 Lewy’s work has the merit of emphasizing the Hellenistic context of the debate on Israel’s right to ownership of its land, a debate referred to in the Book of Jubilees and in later rabbinic texts.60 However, commenting on the answer that Simon gives to the emissary sent by Antiochus VII in 1 Macc 15:33–35, Lewy writes that “Simon thus refers himself to the divine – but nevertheless still utopian – promise made to Moses and Joshua, according to which the land up to the Mediterranean sea was promised to the Israelites.”61 According to Lewy, when Simon spoke of the “inheritance of our fathers,” what he had in mind was the promised land as a whole, which is what

57 Elias Bickerman, From Ezra to the Last of the Maccabees (New York: Schocken Books, 1947). 58 He writes: “Only for Jaffa, which had never been Jewish, and for Gezer did he offer compensation, in the sum of a hundred talents. Thus, though his argument was not wholly consistent, he opposed an historical claim to the land of his fathers to the king’s title in law” (ibid., 146). 59 “Ein Rechtsstreit um Boden Palästinas im Altertum,” MGWJ 77 (1933): 84–99 and 172– 180. 60 See Part I, section 7, infra. 61 Original text: “Simon beruft sich also auf die–utopisch gebliebene–göttliche Verheissung an Moses und Josua, in der den Israeliten das Land bis zum Mittelmeer versprochen wurde” (95).

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he and his successors sought to reconquer. In other words, Lewy clearly diverged from Bickerman on this point.62 Joseph Klausner (1874–1958), editor-in-chief of the Encyclopedia Hebraica, was another great figure from the early days of the Hebrew University. His reading of the Second Temple period was strongly influenced by the perspective of Zionism, and the paradigm of the reconquest of the biblical land of Israel is omnipresent in the pages he devotes to the Hasmoneans. In the third volume of his History of the Second Temple, the first edition of which came out in Hebrew in 1948, he describes Judea in the time of Judas as a narrow strip of land, and presents the rest of the country as “occupied (kavush) by foreigners”.63 According to him, 1 Macc 5 alludes to Judas’ project to extend the borders of Judea: he argues that, as readers of the Torah and Prophets, Judas and his people could not have failed to feel that it was odd that such a small state (medinah) was all that remained of the land promised to their fathers, and once ruled by David and Solomon. This leads him to suggest that, from the time of Judas to the last days of the Hasmonean kingdom, the Hasmoneans were driven by a single aspiration or ambition: turning Judea back into Eretz Israel. Indeed, Klausner adds that it is only if we acknowledge this aspect of the policy of the Hasmoneans that we can understand the importance of the “state” during that period.64 The notion that the Hasmoneans wanted to transform Judea into Eretz Israel returns like a kind of leitmotiv in each one of the sections he devotes to the different members of the Hasmonean dynasty.65 He also repeatedly emphasizes the fact that although external events or circumstances, such as the weakening of the Seleucid dynasty, may have contributed to the Hasmonean territorial expansion, they were not its driving force. According to Klausner, its roots were internal: this expansion was driven by the nation’s aspiration to recover the territory it used to occupy in biblical times. Klausner does however allude to a range of other needs, in connection with the Judean demographic expansion, the benefits of gaining access to the sea, as well as a combination of wider “national,” “state,” and “economic” factors. Klausner argues that Simon attempted to “judaize” Judea, and that his descendants unfailingly pursued this policy of Judaization in all the “pagan” cities located within the territory corresponding to the kingdom of David and Solomon. He also draws an analogy between this decision and Ezra and Nehemiah’s policy to keep the people of Israel separate from foreign peoples, and he compares Simon’s

62 On the friendship between Lewy and Bickerman, see A. Baumgarten, “Elias Bickerman and Hans (Yohanan) Lewy: The Story of a Friendship,” Anabases 13 (2011): 95–118. 63 Joseph Klausner, History of the Second Temple (5 th ed.; Jerusalem: Ahiassaf, 1958), 3:30. 64 Klausner, ibid., 31. 65 Ibid., 57 (Jonathan), 78 (Simon), 85–86 (Hyrcanus I), 144 (Aristobulus I), 146 (Alexander Jannaeus).

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greatness to Solomon’s.66 Although he observes that Hyrcanus I took the decision to integrate the Idumeans, instead of expelling them as advocated by Ezra, he repeats that his campaign of territorial expansion had a biblical basis.67 He does however note that the Hasmoneans were increasingly exposed to Greek culture, and he uses the term ․hiloni (secular) to describe Alexander Jannaeus.68 Indeed, he wonders whether Jannaeus would have gone on to conquer Akko, or even Tyre and Sidon, if the Judeans had not been caught in a civil war. He concludes that it is legitimate to think that, like his fathers before him, Jannaeus dreamed of recreating the kingdom of David and Solomon, even if he was more ambitious than his forefathers and wanted nothing less than inherit the kingdom of the ­Seleucids themselves. According to Klausner, the fact that this dream was a departure from the Davidic Messianic project is what motivated the Pharisees to stand up against Jannaeus.69 Gedaliah Alon (1901–1950), who also taught at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, considered that the key question raised by the Hasmonean period lay in the relationship between that dynasty and the Pharisees. In an important article entitled “Did the Jewish People and its Sages Cause the Hasmoneans to be Forgotten?” Alon categorically rejects the notion that the Sages had a negative perception of the Hasmonean dynasty as a whole, even if he admits that it would be worth examining what they thought of the individual members of that dynasty on a case by case basis. According to Alon, the Pharisees had no quibble with the Hasmonean wars of conquest, including those waged by Alexander Jannaeus.70 Victor Tcherikover (1894–1958), who gave a primarily political and economic reading of the history of the Hasmoneans, was another influential figure at the Hebrew University during that period. In Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews,71 Tcherikover challenges the perception of the Hasmoneans as a group of fanatics. Arguing that it was neither religious fanaticism nor hatred of Greek culture that motivated the campaigns waged by Jannaeus, he adds that: The state constructed by the Hasmoneans was a secular state, a fact which alone suffices to explain their policy toward the Greek towns; nor was the ideology which they upheld one of blind religious fanaticism, but a broad nationalist outlook based 66 Ibid., 65. 67 Ibid., 85–88. 68 Ibid., 145, 150. 69 Ibid., 151. 70 Alon, “Did the Jewish People and its Sages Cause the Hasmoneans to be Forgotten?,” in Jews, Judaism and the Classical World: Studies in Jewish History in the Times of the Second Temple and Talmud (trans. I. Abrahams; Jerusalem: The Magnes Press, 1977), 1–17 (see 6–7). 71 Victor Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (Philadelphia–Jerusalem: The Jewish Publication Society of America – The Magnes Press, 1959).

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on knowledge of Jewish history. When Antiochus Sidetes demanded of Simon the return of the towns of Jaffa and Gezer, Simon replied: “We have not taken foreign soil, but the inheritance of our fathers, which fell into the hands of our foes unjustly, and now the land has returned to its first owners” (I Macc 15.33–34). According to this view, the whole of Palestine was to be united under the rule of the Hasmoneans, and its inhabitants were again to be Jews, as they had been under the kings of the house of David. (Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews, 248)

Although Tcherikover draws on the familiar notion that the Hasmonean dynasty was not a religious but a “secular” state, and although he enumerates the many political and economic incentives lying behind their military campaigns, he nevertheless considers that the Hasmonean wars were an attempt to reconquer the land of Israel (“Palestine”) and restore the state of affairs that prevailed at the time of David – in a word, he believed that they wanted to give the land of Israel back to the people of Israel. Like others before him, he bases this interpretation on Simon’s reply to the emissary of Antiochus VII. However, there is a significant difference between Tcherikover and Baron’s interpretations of Simon’s answer: Tcherikover argues it should primarily be understood as making a historical reference, without any explicit religious content, whereas Baron considered that underlying Simon’s reply was the key notion that the land was holy. As we shall see later, Tcherikover’s remark about the historical dimension of Simon’s argument was well-founded. Moreover, it made perfect sense for such a committed Zionist as Tcherikover to read Simon’s answer in a primarily historical light: the biblical texts tell the national epic of the Jewish people for non-religious Zionists, who do not necessarily take into account the strictly religious categories of the Bible.

2. The reconquest of the promised land: A ubiquitous paradigm The stances of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century historians and biblical scholars on the history of the Hasmoneans continued to prevail from the 1950s onwards, in the historiographical debates on the period that flourished in the wake of the creation of the State of Israel. If anything, even greater significance was allocated to 1 Macc 15:33–35, a passage so widely interpreted as bearing witness to the desire of Simon and his successors to reconquer the land of their ancestors, itself understood as referring to the biblical land of Israel. The historiography of the Hasmonean period in the second half of the twentieth century owes a lot to the work of Menahem Stern (1925–1989), who, like K ­ lausner, Alon and Tcherikover before him, held a chair at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Stern devoted himself to writing an ambitious five-volume history of the people of Israel during the period of the Second Temple, but was killed by Palestinian terrorists before he could publish any of these books. His student Daniel R.

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Schwartz, who holds a chair at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, edited and published sections of Stern’s unfinished manuscripts on the Hasmonean period in a book entitled Hasmonaean Judaea in the Hellenistic World: Chapters in Political History.72 Although this is by definition an incomplete work, it is striking to see how attentive Stern was to the regional political context of the Hasmonean dynasty, the evolution of the Hellenistic world and the emergence of neighbouring dynasties (such as the Iturean one). The book includes a chapter on Simon and another one on the reign of Jannaeus; however, the chapters on John Hyrcanus and Aristobulus I are missing. This may be part of the reason why the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land is not clearly attested in this work: in my experience, this paradigm tends to crop up in the context of historical analyses of the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus. In his chapter on Simon, Stern of course discusses the meeting between the Hasmonean ruler and the emissary of Antiochus VII, including Simon’s reply according to 1 Macc 15:33–35. However, Stern stays so close to the text of 1 Maccabees that it is not possible to infer what he made of Simon’s answer. Although Stern does not, on the whole, seem to pay biblical models much attention, the fact that his book was unfinished makes it difficult to draw any clear conclusions. However, Stern’s understanding of Simon’s reply is clearer in an earlier piece, published in a 1976 collective book entitled A History of the Jewish People. Stern, who was responsible for Part III of this book (“The Period of the Second Temple”), discusses the high priesthood and the wars of John Hyrcanus in a sub-section entitled “The Hasmonean State”. Arguing that these wars were in line with those waged by Judas, Jonathan and Simon, albeit on a grander scale, he observes that “In principle, John’s position was the same as that previously formulated by Simon in his reply to the envoys of Antiochus Sidetes – that the whole of Palestine was the ancestral heritage of the Jewish nation.”73 In these lines, Stern, who is referring to 1 Macc 15:33–35, understands “the inheritance of our fathers” to mean the land of Israel as a whole (which he calls “Palestine,” as was the practice at the time among historians of ancient Judaism) and suggests that this is the land that John was trying to reconquer.74

72 Hasmonaean Judaea in the Hellenistic World: Chapters in Political History (Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center, 1995). In Hebrew. 73 Menahem Stern, “The Period of the Second Temple,” in A History of the Jewish People (ed. H. H. Ben-Sasson; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976), 185–384; the quotation is on p. 218. 74 See also on p. 226: “The main ethnic changes were the work of John Hyrcanus, who acted on the premise that the entire country was the heritage of the Jewish nation.” Writing about Jannaeus’ policy, Stern claims that “He also attempted to impose a Jewish character on the new conquests” (ibid.), even if he admits that the population of the major cities conquered by Jannaeus did not become Jewish.

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The question of the place of the land of Israel in Hasmonean policies is the focus of Doron Mendels’ doctoral dissertation, published in 1987 under the title The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature.75 In the opening pages of his book, Mendels writes that “The Divine Promise of the Land is always present – it is a constant factor in time and space; but the actual occupation of the Land of Israel by the Jews, is dependent upon their adherence to the Torah and its Laws” (1–2). Although Mendels acknowledges that the land does not seem to have been at stake in the wars fought by the early Hasmoneans, he nevertheless adds that “Whereas until 140, 1 Maccabees never includes the Land as a declared goal of the war of the Hasmoneans (although it emphatically mentions the Torah, the People, and the Temple), from that year the Land is added as a goal of the war”. The evidence he quotes in support of this claim is 1 Macc 15:33.76 His assumptions about the meaning of this passage are the same as those of his predecessors: i. e. he assumes that Simon’s reply refers to the (biblical) land of Israel, and that the reconquest of that territory was an objective shared by Simon and his descendants alike. In Judas Maccabaeus: The Jewish Struggle Against the Seleucids,77 Bezalel BarKochva explores the biblical models underlying 1 Maccabees. In a passage on the clashes between Judas Maccabaeus and Nicanor at Kafar Salama and Adasa (1 Macc 7:31 and 40), Bar-Kochva observes that the author could have located these battles in “Gibeon”: Had he specified Gibeon as the place of the encounter, he would have added an important element to the image of the Hasmoneans as reviving the commandment to conquer and settle the country (see 1 Macc. 15.33), and would have aroused pleasant associations with Joshua’s and David’s great victories at Gibeon (Josh 10.10–14; 1 Chr 14.16). (Judas Maccabaeus, 154–155)

This is a very good point. However, Bar-Kochva stops short of providing his readers with a satisfactory explanation for the fact that the author of 1 Maccabees does not refer to Gibeon. Later, he writes, pondering the date of the book: How is it that the author, who stresses the Jewish right to reconquer the country (15.33– 4) and admires Hyrcanus, failed to mention the latter’s conquests in his summary? It follows therefore that the author was unacquainted with John Hyrcanus’ other activities, and that the book was completed when the restoration of the walls was still regarded as his most important achievement, that is, between 129 and 126 B.C. (ibid., 163)

75 The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987). 76 Ibid., 47. 77 Judas Maccabaeus: The Jewish Struggle against the Seleucids (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).

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These two quotations illustrate once again the key role that 1 Macc 15:33–35 plays in the construction of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land. The same is true in the work of Aryeh Kasher, who argues that the reconquest of the land was Simon’s greatest ambition: … we must not ignore (Simon’s) sincere religious ambition, shared by most of the Jewish population, which was to purge the Land of Israel of the impurities caused by its idolatrous inhabitants; nor may we dismiss the nationalistic and historical motives of liberating portions of the “homeland” … All of these are indicated in Simeon’s reply to the ultimatum presented by Antiochus VII Sidetes regarding the evacuation of Gazara (Gezer) and Joppa (1 Macc. 15.33–35). In my opinion, these motives did not constitute a mere ideological and (given the circumstances) apologetic cover for the economic and demographic needs; rather, they were the most pressing concerns which guided Simeon.78

Kasher brings together the perspectives of Baron and Tcherikover on the Hasmoneans by taking into account both the “religious” and the “historical” and “national” dimensions of this question (i. e. the notions of the purity of the land and the ancestral homeland). In Jews and Hellenistic Cities in Eretz-Israel, he argues that the victories of Jannaeus against the Hellenistic cities of Coele-Syria can be read as the implementation of the programme conceived by Simon and described in 1 Macc 15:33–35.79 According to Kasher, in the second century B.C.E., the relationship of Jews with non-Jews developed, to a great degree, on the basis of a well-formulated Jewish outlook on the world, cast in the mould of traditions dating from Biblical times, when the Hellenistic cities in Eretz-Israel were considered by the Jews as Canaanite and Philistine cities, which the Jews were obligated to wipe off the face of the earth, because of their abominations and pagan rituals. … Anyone perusing the history of Eretz-Israel in the Hasmonean period, for example, will easily note that the spirit which inflamed the hearts of the Hasmonean fighters against the Hellenistic cities was nourished by these Biblical ideals and commands. (Jews and Hellenistic Cities in Eretz-Israel, 1)

In other words, Kasher suggests that the Hasmoneans perceived the peoples that lived around them to be Canaanites and Philistines, and believed that they had to eradicate these people and their idolatrous rituals, in order to respect the biblical commandments relative to the conquest of the promised land.

78 Kasher, “The Changes in Manpower and Ethnic Composition of the Hasmonean Army (167–63 BCE),” JQR 81/3–4 (1991): 325–352; the quotation is on p. 344. 79 Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities in Eretz-Israel: Relations of the Jews in Eretz-Israel with the Hellenistic Cities during the Second Temple Period (332 BCE–70 CE) (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990), 174–175.

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The paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land endures to this day, influencing scholarly works to a greater or lesser extent.80 Thus, Israel Shatzman, a great scholar of the Hasmonean military, and of the political history of this period more widely, wrote in a 2007 article that, for the author of 1 Maccabees, “the wars of Mattathias and Judas against the Gentiles were an opportune occasion to implement the Deuteronomic laws, and hence were modelled on the wars of Joshua against the Canaanite peoples.”81 Shatzman considers that, far from being a simple literary device, the account of 1 Maccabees genuinely illustrates the ideology and policy of Judas. Indeed, Shatzman also considers that John Hyrcanus favoured the same policy, and he concludes with the assertion that “John Hyrcanus sought to implement the aspiration that had emerged in the time of Judas to rule Eretz Israel,” quoting 1 Macc 15:33 in support of this argument.82 The best contemporary scholarship on the First Book of the Maccabees has without a doubt been produced by Uriel Rappaport, in a 2004 commentary of 1 Maccabees and in a history of the Hasmonean period published in 2013 (both books are in Hebrew).83 In his commentary of 1 Macc 15:33–35, Uriel Rappaport argues that Simon’s reply constitutes the first mention in that book of a national and state ideology connected with the historical right of the Jews to Eretz Israel. According to Rappaport, this perspective, which he judges startlingly modern, has its roots in the Jewish tradition: The promise that the God of Israel repeatedly made to the people of Israel, and repeated in the Tanakh, that they should inherit the land of Israel is implied in the claim that Simon lays to a right to the land, which is why he refuses to pay for compensation in exchange for the realisation of this right. (The First Book of Maccabees, 345)

However, he adds immediately that In spite of everything, Simon does not evoke that divine promise but a historical right in order to justify his position. As such, his justification is at odds with both 80 The paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land is also present in the work of historians of the modern reception of classical Antiquity. See for instance the following lines from a major work by Yaacov Shavit, Athens in Jerusalem: “It is true that the Hasmonean kings clearly saw the ‘golden age’ of the House of David and Solomon as a historical model, but they acted more out of a desire to reconquer the divinely granted territories that those kings had ruled” (Athens in Jerusalem, 316). 81 Shatzman, “Jews and Gentiles from Judas Maccabaeus to John Hyrcanus According to Contemporary Jewish Sources,” in Studies in Josephus and the Varieties of Ancient Judaism: ­Louis H. Feldman Jubilee Volume (S. J. D. Cohen and J. J. Schwartz, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 237– 270; the quotation is on p. 255. 82 Ibid., 270. 83 Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees: Introduction, Hebrew Translation, and Commentary (Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2004); The House of the Hasmoneans: The People of Israel in the Land of Israel in the Hasmonean Period (Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2013).

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the biblical and the Hellenistic perspectives on what constitutes the right to sovereignty over a given land. (ibid.)

Rappaport argues that the Hellenistic dynasties based their right of ownership on conquest, because this was their only possible source of legitimacy, since the model of an ethnic community living on its ancestral territory no longer applied to these dynasties. In contrast, he considers that the logic behind Simon’s reply was different, insofar as its basis was historical.84 Rappaport also observes that Simon’s reply emphasizes the rights of the people, as opposed to those of their rulers. Finally, Rappaport returns once again to the fact that in his reply Simon makes no reference to God or to the divine promise to give the land to the people of Israel. However, he does not really offer an explanation for this, choosing instead to refer his readers back to the works of Hans Lewy and Doron Mendels. In The House of the Hasmoneans, Uriel Rappaport returns to the meeting between Simon and the emissary of Antiochus VII, emphasizing once again that Simon lays claim to a historical right to the land. He then adds that although Simon leaves its borders unspecified, these were in all likelihood biblical.85 According to Rappaport, “the notion that Eretz Israel is ‘the inheritance of our fathers’ explains not only the Hasmonean conquests, but also their destruction of pagan cults in the conquered territories and their decision to convert or expel foreign peoples from what they saw as the Holy Land.”86 However, Rappaport refers in a footnote to the work of Irad Malkin on the justification of territorial invasions and conquests in Greek myths. This leads him to suggest that it is possible to surmise that Alexander Jannaeus may have simply been spurred on by a desire for power and glory as he waged his wars of conquest, and may have considered his territorial gains to represent land “won by the sword,” in accordance with the model of the Hellenistic kingdoms, where kingly power was based on an ideology of victory and conquest.87 Rappaport also raises, but leaves open, a very good question regarding the relationship between Simon’s reply and the policy that John Hyrcanus followed. When in his chapter on John Hyrcanus, he examines the latter’s decision to hire foreign mercenaries, Rappaport wonders what really motivated this Hasmonean ruler, whose policy seems to have been halfaway between Simon’s and Jannaeus’. However, he fails to conclusively elucidate the place of “the inheritance of our fathers” in Hyrcanus’ policy.88

84 For a refutation of this argument, see my discussion of 1 Macc 15 in Part I, § 6, showing that there is in fact a great deal of similarity between Simon’s arguments and those used in the Hellenistic world at large about issues of land ownership. 85 The House of the Hasmoneans, 232–233, notes 50 and 51. 86 Ibid., 233. 87 Ibid., 233, note 50; see also 290 and 329–342. 88 See in particular ibid., 290.

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If the examples mentioned above reveal the significance of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land for Israeli historiography, it would nevertheless be wrong to imagine that this paradigm is in any way specific to Israeli scholarship. Not only are there Israeli scholars who see the events of the Hasmonean period differently (see infra), but this paradigm has inspired large numbers of scholars across European and American universities, including William D. Davies in The Territorial Dimension of Judaism (1972),89 Jonathan A. Goldstein (to whom I shall return),90 the great New Testament scholar Sean Freyne,91 the Polish historian Edward Dabrowa,92 etc. The paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land also pervades the works of French and francophone historians. In Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos. Essai sur le judaïsme judéen à l’époque hellénistique, Edouard Will and Claude Orrieux draw a familiar comparison between the size of the Judean territory under the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus and in the days of David and Solomon.93 A few lines later, they write that the kingdom of Jannaeus was roughly equivalent to “the Solomonic Empire”. Will and Orrieux do not suggest the Hasmoneans sought to reconstitute that empire. However, in parallel with a lucid account of the Hellenisation of the Hasmonean dynasty and the dynamic of acculturation and counter-acculturation that prevailed in Judea under their rule, the authors nevertheless implicitly refer to the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land in their analysis of the early Hasmoneans, since they argue that the early Hasmoneans partially acted on the Deuteronomic commandment to eradicate the Canaanites, in order to purify the land.94 In spite of their historiographical circumspection, Will and Orrieux do not entertain the possibility that the accounts of the wars waged by Judas and his brothers in the First and Second

89 Davies writes for instance that “The story of the conquest and occupation of the Land under Joshua was vivid in the Maccabean mind and in that of the nationalists of the first century” (The Territorial Dimension of Judaism [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972], 65). 90 See Goldstein, 1 Maccabees: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 41; New York: Doubleday, 1976). This is what he writes, for example, about the author of 1 Maccabees: “Our author still portrays Judas as a second Joshua. Judas’ contemporaries, Jewish and gentile, probably did so, too. We can understand how gentiles came to view Jews living on their territory as a ‘fifth column’ preparing the way for the new conquest of the Promised Land” (293). 91 See for example “Galilean Studies: Old Issues and New Questions,” in Religion, Ethnicity, and Identity in Ancient Galilee: A Region in Transition (J. Zangenberg, H. W. Attridge and D. B. Martin, ed.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 13–29. 92 The Hasmoneans and their State: A Study in History, Ideology, and the Institutions (Krakow: Jagiellonian University Press, 2010), 115 and also more especially 188; idem, “The Hasmoneans and the Religious Homogeneity of their State,” Scripta Judaica Cracoviensia 8 (2010): 7–14. 93 Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos. Essai sur le judaïsme judéen à l’époque hellénistique (Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy, 1986), 194. 94 Ibid., 193.

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Books of Maccabees might be rhetorical and literary set pieces designed to foster intertextual echoes with the biblical tradition. Maurice Sartre, who was influenced by the work of Jonathan Goldstein,95 also considers “likely” that “the Hasmonean programme of territorial expansion” was “dictated by their desire to recreate a kingdom that would coincide with the promised land”.96 He adds: Reverence for Scripture explains why some of the people who used to be established on the promised land, like the Edomites or the Itureans, were forcibly judaized, but not others, such as the Moabites, who were settled outside that land and had explicitly been banned from conversion in Deuteronomy 23:3. As the heirs of David and Solomon, the Hasmoneans could lay claim to a large territory if they wished to recover their entire inheritance: it is no coincidence if we see them waging their campaigns as far as the centre and north of the Beqa‘ (Hama) … (D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 395–396)

These observations nevertheless only play a marginal role in his overall analysis of the Hasmonean dynasty, which he judiciously replaces in its Hellenistic context. Julien Aliquot follows the same line of argument when, in a remarkable article on the Itureans, he gives the following account of the expedition that Jonathan launched in the Beqa‘ against the troops of Demetrius II (1 Macc 12:30): “The Hasmoneans headed for the territory of the Amathitis, exhibiting their desire to make their kingdom coincide with the promised land.”97 In his seminal book La guerre et les rites de guerre dans le judaïsme du deu­ xième Temple, Christophe Batsch argues that when the Hasmoneans waged war on their neighbours, they were putting into practice the commandments of Deuteronomy, especially when it came to ․herem warfare.98 According to Batsch, the “Maccabeans” conducted their military operations within the territorial and mental framework of Eretz Israel – i. e. within a territory which once had been the focus of the prescriptions against the Canaanites (ibid., 421).

95 On Goldstein’s work, see infra, § 4. 96 Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie: Histoire du Levant antique, IVe siècle avant J.-C.–IIIe siècle après J.-C. (Paris: Fayard, 2001), 395. 97 “Les Hasmonéens prennent alors la direction de l’Amathitide, ce qui traduit leur volonté de reconstituer un royaume qui coïnciderait avec la Terre Promise” (Aliquot, “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban du IIe siècle a.C. au IVe siècle p.C.,” Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 56 [1999–2003]: 161–290; the quotation is on p. 174). 98 Batsch, La guerre et les rites de guerre dans le judaïsme du deuxième Temple (Leiden: Brill, 2005); see in particular 418–421 and 438–443.

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In a recent overview of the period, Simon Mimouni writes, under the influence of both Jonathan Goldstein and Maurice Sartre (although he does not acknowledge the latter) that: Some critics estimate that it is possible that the Hasmonean programme of territorial expansion may have been dictated by their desire to recreate a kingdom that would coincide with the promised land, notably as described in the prophecies of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Amos. Reverence for ancestral Judean traditions may well explain why some of the people who had settled on the promised land, such as the Idumeans and Itureans, were Judaized, but not others, such as the Ammonites and Moabites, who were always considered to dwell outside the “Land” and whose integration was explicitly forbidden – see Deut 23:8–9 in favour of the Edomites (Idumeans) and Deut 23:4–7 against the Ammonites and Moabites. Seeing themselves as the heirs of David and Solomon, whose heroic deeds the ancestral traditions retraced, the Hasmoneans thus attempted to regain possession of the entire territory that was once occupied by the Unified Kingdom of Israel: we can therefore speak of a “Hasmonean ideology”.99

Finally, I shall turn briefly to Daniel Barbu’s Naissance de l’idolâtrie: Image, identité, religion.100 Looking at Hasmonean policies through the lens of his study of the relationship of Judaism to images and idolatry, Barbu, like Arnaldo Momigliano (whose work he does however not mention in this context) before him, draws a distinction between the performance of an act and its representation in a narrative. He considers that the Books of the Maccabees display the influence of Joshua and the Deuteronomic model of the war against the Canaanites, but mainly on a literary level, arguing that the First Book of Maccabees primarily uses these biblical models in order to confer legitimacy to the Hasmonean dynasty. Barbu

99 Mimouni, Le judaïsme ancien du VIe siècle avant notre ère au IIIe siècle de notre ère. Des prêtres aux rabbins (Paris: PUF, Nouvelle Clio, 2012), 385–386. French original text: “Certains critiques ont estimé possible que le programme d’extension territoriale des Hasmonéens ait été dicté par le souci de reconstituer un royaume qui coïncide avec la Terre promise dont il est question dans les prophéties d’Isaïe, de Jérémie et d’Amos notamment. Le respect des traditions ancestrales judéennes peut expliquer, en effet, qu’on ait judéisé certains peuples installés jadis sur la Terre pro­mise, comme les Iduméens ou les Ituréens, mais non d’autres, comme les Ammonites et les Moabites, qui ont toujours été considérés comme hors de cette ‘Terre’, et dont l’intégration est explicitement interdite – voir Deut 23, 8–9 en faveur des Edomites (Iduméens) et Deut 23, 4–7 contre les Ammonites et les Moabites. Se considérant comme les héritiers de David et Salomon, dont les hauts faits sont retracés dans les traditions ancestrales, les Hasmonéens ont ainsi tenté de récupérer la totalité du territoire de l’ancien royaume unifié d’Israël: on peut parler alors d’idéologie hasmonéenne.” 100 Naissance de l’idolâtrie. Image, identité, religion (Liège: Presses universitaires de Liège, 2016). I am grateful to Daniel Barbu for allowing me to read his book manuscript prior to publication. The doctoral dissertation on which this book is based is accessible online in: http://archive-ouverte.unige.ch/unige:23337

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is more cautious when it comes to the role these models played in the actual policies of the Hasmoneans: Did (the Hasmoneans) really see themselves as the actors of a new conquest of the promised land, and their territorial expansion as a ritual act performed in order to make the ideal of a purified land come true? Perhaps. … the Hasmoneans may have found in the conquest myth an ideological referent capable of giving meaning to their actions, and of fuelling their ambitions. (Naissance de l’idolâtrie, 194)101

In other words, Barbu does not exclude the possibility that the Book of Joshua, with its notion of ․herem warfare against the Canaanites, may have inspired the Hasmonean wars of conquest. I have no wish to undermine the value of the above-mentioned scholarly works, simply because they reproduce the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land. On the contrary, I consider that in many other respects they represent a valuable contribution to the field and are worthy of the greatest consideration. Moreover, some of the scholars I have just mentioned only grant a marginal role to the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land, and their analyses of the Hasmonean wars take into account several other explanatory factors. My objective in this rapid overview of the scholarship on the Hasmoneans was merely to define this paradigm and show how widespread and commonplace it has become in the last decades. In sum, the overview of the scholarship on the Hasmonean wars that I have presented in the previous pages suggests that we can distinguish between: 1. The scholars who argue that these wars exhibited an attempt to regain control of territories once controlled by the Israelites (i. e. in biblical times, usually the period of the Unified Kingdom of David and Solomon), but do not make explicit reference to God’s promise to his people. This is the position adopted by Graetz (reading between the lines) as well as Derenbourg, Tcherikover, Stern, Bar-Kochva, and Rappaport, among others. Strictly speaking, this stance reflects the “paradigm of the reconquest of the land of Israel,” rather than the “paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land”. 2. The scholars who consider that these wars were an attempt to regain control of a God-given territory, and who emphasize the sacred character of the land. This is Wellhausen and Abel’s position, for example. 3. The scholars who combine these two explanatory models, emphasizing both God’s promise to his people (or the sacred character of the land) and the his101 “(Les Hasmonéens) ont-ils véritablement voulu se représenter comme les acteurs d’une nouvelle conquête de la terre promise, et représenter leur expansion territoriale comme un acte rituel visant à accomplir l’idéal d’une terre désormais purifiée? Peut-être. … les actions des Hasmonéens ont pu trouver dans le mythe de la conquête un référent idéologique apte à leur donner sens, mais aussi à nourrir leurs ambitions.” See also ibid., 180–194.

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torical connection between Israel and its land. This is the stance adopted by Klausner, Lewy, Baron, Kasher and Shavit, in particular. However, if we consider that the biblical accounts of the kingdom of David and Solomon are linked to various traditions according to which God gave the land to his people, we come to the conclusion that the implications of these positions are in fact much the same. In this sense, it is appropriate to speak of the “paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land” when an author suggests that the Hasmoneans wished to reconquer the “biblical” land of Israel. (Even if these scholars generally fail to define its borders – see infra). Whether or not they perceived this reconquest as the accomplishment of prophecies (as Wellhausen and Goldstein), is only of secondary importance. What is more significant is the issue of the attitude of the Hasmoneans towards the non-Jewish peoples under their control, and the question of whether they put into practice the Deuteronomic precepts and imitated the model of ․herem warfare found in the Book of Joshua. It was an anti-Semitic author, Eduard Meyer, who was the first to argue that this was the case: even the earlier scholars who had commented before him on the “fanaticism” of the Hasmoneans from John Hyrcanus onwards did not make this argument. Whereas Arnaldo Momigliano refrained from asserting that the Hasmoneans deliberately imitated the model presented by Joshua, merely mentioning that the literary tone of the Books of Maccabees recalls the Books of Joshua and Judges, the notion that the Hasmoneans may have acted on the prescription of waging ․herem warfare against the Canaanites has become increasingly popular in the last decades, notably as a result of the influence of the works of Goldstein, Kasher, Will and Orrieux, Shatzman and Batsch.

3. Dissident voices In spite of its dominance, the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land has been challenged by a number of dissident voices. Some of these scholars have focused on the political, economic, demographic and strategic stakes of Hasmonean policies, downplaying their religious dimension and moving beyond biblical models. Morton Smith was undoubtedly one of the first to take this path, even if he followed to a large extent in Tcherikover’s footsteps, and although the work of Menahem Stern can also be seen in this light.102 Several historians, in many cases Morton Smith’s students, also take this approach, considering that the significance

102 See in particular Smith, “The Gentiles in Judaism, 125 BCE–CE 66,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism. III. The Early Roman Period (ed. W. Horbury et al.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 192–249.

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of biblical models was only marginal, and that they either did not play a determining role or were merely a form of propaganda. This is the case, for instance, of Joseph Sievers, Shaye Cohen and Seth Schwartz,103 whose works I shall examine in more detail in Parts I and II of this book. This approach is often, but not systematically, associated with the tendency to portray the Hasmonean dynasty as “worldly” or “secular.” Moreover, this trend often overlaps with a focus on the Hellenisation of the dynasty. However, this trend and focus should not be confused. There is an important distinction between them: it is possible to think of the Hellenisation of the Hasmoneans beyond the confines of the narrow debate on whether or not their mode of government and motivations were religious. It is perfectly possible to consider that some of the more culturally Hellenized Hasmoneans might have showed great respect for biblical precepts. Indeed, several scholars who have focused on the Hellenisation of the Hasmoneans have tried to determine how much influence the Bible and their Hellenistic context respectively had over them.104 This is a question that I also examine in this book. 103 See J. Sievers, The Hasmoneans and their Supporters: From Mattathias to the Death of John Hyrcanus I (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), in particular 106–145. (Commenting on the conquests of Hyrcanus I, he writes that “For most of these conquests no motives are stated and conjectures based on national, historical, religious, military, political, or economic considerations are possible but hazardous” [141–142]). Shaye Cohen focuses more exclusively on the question of the “forced conversions” under Hasmonean rule; see S. J. D. Cohen, “Religion, Ethnicity, and ‘Hellenism’ in the Emergence of Jewish Identity in Maccabean Palestine,” in Religion and Religious Practice in the Seleucid Kingdom (ed. P. Bilde; Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1990), 204–223; idem, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999). Finally, Seth Schwartz has written extensively on the Hasmoneans and the Hasmonean period. This research has been published in a large number of articles, which I will be referring to in the sections that follow (see in particular “A Note on the Social Type and Political Ideology of the Hasmonean Family,” JBL 112/2 [1993]: 305–309) and in his book Imperialism and Jewish Society 200 B.C.E. to 640 C.E. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001). 104 Beyond the works mentioned in the previous footnote, see also, in particular, Th. Fischer, “Hasmoneans and Seleucids: Aspects of War and Policy in the Second and First Century B.C.E.,” in Greece and Rome in Eretz Israel. Collected Essays (ed. A. Kasher et al.; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi–Israel Exploration Society, 1990), 3–19; T. Rajak, “The Hasmoneans and the Uses of Hellenism,” in A Tribute to Geza Vermes (ed. Ph. R. Davies; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990), 260–280 (reprinted in The Jewish Dialogue with Greece and Rome, 61–80); U. Rappaport, “The Hellenization of the Hasmoneans,” in Jewish Assimilation, Acculturation and Accomodation: Past Traditions, Current Issues and Future Prospects (ed. M. Mor; Lanham: University Press of ­America, 1992), 1–13; A. Baumgarten, “The Hellenization of the Hasmonean State,” in The Hasmonean Period: Sources, Summaries, Selected Episodes and Supplemental Materials (D. Amit and H. ­Eshel, ed.; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi [Idan 19], 1995), 77–84 (Heb.); E. S. Gruen, Heri­ tage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 1–40 (“Hellenism and the Hasmoneans”); M. Sartre, “De Pétra à Jérusalem … et retour!,” in East and West. Papers in Ancient History presented to Glen W. Bowersock (Harvard: Harvard University Press, 2008), 159–180.

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Finally, there are also scholars who have explicitly recused the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land, but either in a marginal comment arising in the context of a digression from the main argument of their book, or briefly and without offering any explanation. Moshe Weinfeld (1925–2009), who held a chair in the Bible department of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, writes in The Promise of the Land, which came out in 1993 (although several sections of this work were published as articles as early as the 1980s): “During the Hasmonean period, it is not the conquest of land that is referred to but rather holding on to inherited territory” (my emphasis).105 Interestingly, Weinfeld backs up this assertion with 1 Macc 15:33–34, and thus has a very different understanding of this passage than the proponents of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land. Weinfeld writes that: … through all their conquest activities, the Hasmoneans never relied on the ancient laws of the Pentateuch concerning the dispossession of the Canaanites and the inheritance of the promised land. The old Genesis traditions were rewritten in the light of contemporary events, but as a matter of practice the Hasmoneans neither mentioned nor implemented the ancient laws concerning the conquest of the land. (The Promise of the Land, 207–208)106

Menahem Kister follows much the same line of argument when, in response to the article by Israel Shatzman that I mentioned earlier, he writes: In contrast to Shatzman, I do not find compelling evidence that the Hasmoneans considered their wars as analogous to Joshua’s conquest, and that the biblical law of herem was considered as applicable for the gentile inhabitants of the Land. In 1 Maccabees, a work that comes closest to Hasmonean ideology, there are very few allusions to the nations of Canaan or to Joshua.107

Finally, I shall mention the position that Daniel R. Schwartz adopted when Estelle Villeneuve interviewed him in 2013 for a special issue of Le Monde de la Bible on the notion of the “promised land.”108 To the question “In your opinion, was the

105 The Promise of the Land: The Inheritance of the Land of Canaan by the Israelites (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 207. 106 This chapter was originally published in Hebrew in “Inheritance of the Land–Privilege Versus Obligation: The Concept of ‘The Promise of the Land’ in the Sources of the First and Second Temple Periods,” Zion 49 (1984): 115–137. 107 Menahem Kister, “The Fate of the Canaanites and the Despoliation of the Egyptians. Polemics among Jews, Pagans, Christians, and Gnostics: Motifs and Motives,” in The Gift of the Land and the Fate of the Canaanites in Jewish Thought (ed. K. Berthelot et al.; New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 66–111, quotation p. 76. 108 Daniel R. Schwartz, interview with Estelle Villeneuve in “Les Asmonéens ont-ils reconquis la ‘terre promise’ ?,” Le Monde de la Bible 204 (March–May 2013): 28–31.

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Hasmonean conquest dictated by their desire to restore the biblical borders of the “promised land,” Daniel Schwartz answered: I do not think so. In any case, there is nothing to suggest this in 1 Maccabees, the book in which the Hasmoneans tell their story. What happened in the second century B.C.E. and the first decades of the first century C.E., was that a tiny province in the Hellenistic kingdom of the Seleucids grew in size as a result of a conquest and became an independent territory. As it happened, this province had once been at the epicentre of the biblical land of Israel and under the Hasmoneans, its borders almost extended to those of this territory in the golden age of the Bible, under David and Solomon. However, in their conquest narrative, the Hasmoneans never lay claim to the right to rule over the territories they have conquered – Galilee, the coast, the Transjordanian territories, Idumea, etc. – in the name of the reign of David and Solomon, or because of any prophetic promise. I therefore do not think that there was anything like a “biblical dream” behind the Hasmonean conquests, or that they followed a territorial programme dictated by biblical history or prophecies. They may have referred to them here and there for the uses of propaganda, but what motivated their policy was more simply the logic of power: they had the possibility of conquering new territories and so that is what they did. It was the military successes of the Hasmoneans that configured their borders and founded their authority. (Interview with Estelle Villeneuve, 29)109

I agree entirely with Daniel Schwartz, and my objective in this book is to show why it seems to me that this analysis is preferable to the arguments put forward by the majority of scholars working on this period.

109 “Je ne crois pas. En tout cas, rien, dans le Premier Livre des Maccabées, celui dans lequel les Asmonéens présentent leur histoire, ne permet d’affirmer cela. Ce qui se passe au IIe siècle av. J.-C. et dans les premières décennies du Ier, c’est une minuscule province du royaume hellénistique des Séleucides, la Judée, qui grossit par l’effet d’une conquête et devient un état indépendant. Il se fait que cette province avait été l’épicentre de la Terre biblique d’Israël et que l’extension territoriale qu’elle atteint avec les Asmonéens approche des frontières qu’elle avait au moment de l’âge d’or biblique, sous David et Salomon. Cependant, dans le récit qu’ils font de leur conquête, jamais les Asmonéens ne revendiquent leur droit à gouverner les territoires conquis – la Galilée, la côte, les territoires transjordaniens, l’Idumée, etc. – au nom du règne de David et Salomon ou d’une quelconque promesse prophétique. Je ne pense donc pas que les conquérants asmonéens aient été mus par un quelconque ‘rêve biblique’ et qu’ils aient mis en place un programme territorial dicté par l’histoire ou les prophéties bibliques. Ils ont pu, ici ou là, se servir de ces références dans leur propagande, mais leur politique relève plus simplement d’une logique de pouvoir: ils avaient la possibilité de conquérir des territoires supplémentaires et ils l’ont fait! Ce qui configure les frontières sous les Asmonéens et assoit leur autorité, c’est le succès des armes.”

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4. Reflexions on some of the methodological problems raised by biblical models The tendency to interpret everything the Hasmoneans did through the narrative framework of the Bible probably reached its culminating point in the work of ­Jonathan A. Goldstein in the 1970s and 1980s. As the author of one of the few commentaries of 1 Maccabees written in English (Anchor Yale Bible Commentaries), and of a major article published in The Cambridge History of Judaism, Goldstein is still a potentially influential figure today. In his perspective, everything the Hasmoneans did, including their military campaigns, was motivated by a desire to accomplish one prophecy or another. This is for example what he writes in his seminal article published in The Cambridge History of Judaism:110 John and his followers seem to have believed that Jewish expansion should fulfil Numbers 24:17–24, Isaiah 11:14, 15, 16 and 25:9–12, Jeremiah 30:18 to 31:15 and 48:1 to 49:22, Amos 9:12, Zephaniah 2:4–10, and Obadiah. Judas Maccabeus had already taken and destroyed Jazer in “Moab” in fulfilment of Isaiah 16:8–9 and Jeremiah 48:32. (“The Hasmonean Revolt and the Hasmonean Dynasty,” 325)

This approach raises a methodological problem, because it is always possible to argue that this or that biblical account of a struggle between Israel and one of its neighbours constituted a precedent for, or – if it forecasts the victory of the Jews – inspired, a later conflict. The fact that Hasmonean Judea shared the same geographical location as the biblical kingdom of Judah, meant that it necessarily came up against peoples located in areas already identified as harbouring the enemies of Israel in biblical times. As a result, it is often possible to find some similarities between a war waged by the Hasmoneans and a battle mentioned in the Bible. However, the parallels would have to be very specific indeed, to make it possible to infer from these similarities that the Hasmoneans or their allies really did use the Bible as a model, whether on the level of their literary representation of the conflict, or of the military operations they conducted on the field. In fact, Jonathan Goldstein finds himself faced with major stumbling blocks when, moving on from his analysis of the Hasmonean conquests, he tries to use the Bible to explain the “forced conversion” of the Idumeans, and, conversely, the fact that some people were not “converted”: John’s conquest of Edom surely was taken as a fulfilment of Numbers 24:18, Amos 9:12, and Obadiah, but his forced conversion of those Idumeans who wished to remain in the land marked a new direction in Hasmonean policy toward pagan ethnic groups. 110 Goldstein, “The Hasmonean Revolt and the Hasmonean Dynasty,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism. Volume II, The Hellenistic Age (ed. W. D. Davies; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 292–351.

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Hitherto, Simon had expelled the inhabitants of Jaffa and Gazara and the Akra, without giving them the option of becoming Jews. Reasons of state rather than religion might explain all three of Simon’s expulsions. On the other hand, John is not reported to have either converted or expelled the inhabitants of conquered Moab. Moab was no part of the Promised Land, and conversion of Moabites was forbidden by Deuteronomy 23:3. John’s conquest of Idumea, however, confronted pious Jews with a problem. Idumea had been part of the Promised Land. If Exodus 23:31–3 applied to the Idumeans, they could not be allowed to dwell in the land of Israel as Idumean idolaters. There was also the commandment at Deuteronomy 23:7, ‘You shall not abhor an Edomite, for he is your brother.’ It was probably in order to fulfil the two clashing commandments that John granted the Idumeans the option of becoming Jews. The conquered Idumeans could be allowed to live in the land of Israel as Jews who had abjured idolatry. Once the option had been devised for the Idumeans, it could be offered to other pagan peoples as the Hasmoneans reconquered more and more of the Promised Land. (ibid., 326)

This passage is in fact fairly representative of the obstacles that the proponents of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land come up against, largely because it leaves three major issues unresolved: 1) it does not define the borders of the land that God gave to Israel; 2) it does not explain whether the commandment to conquer the land was decreed for all time; and 3) it does not take into account the fact that there is no biblical model for the imposition of the Mosaic laws to non-Jews.

4.1 The borders of the promised land The proponents of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land often speak of “Palestine,” “Eretz Israel” and the “Land,” but seldom specify its borders. Yet, the biblical corpus presents us with several different perspectives on the borders of the “promised land”.111 Moshe Weinfeld considers that in the most “neutral” of these accounts, this territory extends “from Dan until Beersheba”112 – the territory of Dan is in the north, at the foot of Mount Hermon, whereas Beersheba is in the south, in the Negev. This territory was bordered to the west by the Medi­ terranean Sea and to the east by the river Jordan: in Num 33:50–51 we read that “In the plains of Moab by the Jordan at Jericho, the Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites, and say to them: When you cross over the Jordan into the 111 For a detailed study of the different conceptions of the location of the borders of the land, see Nili Wazana, All the boundaries of the Land:‎The Promised Land in Biblical Thought in Light of the Ancient Near East (trans. L. Qeren; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013). 112 See Weinfeld, The Promise of the Land, 52, which references to Judg 20:1; 1 Sam 3:20; 2 Sam 3:10; 17:11; 24:2.15; 1 Kgs 5:5; Am 8:14.

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land of Canaan …,” which implies that the river Jordan bordered Canaan to the east. In this tradition – which is dominant in the biblical corpus – Transjordan was not part of the land that God had promised to Israel; and the territories located east of the river Jordan were not included in the parcels of land allocated to the tribes, according to Josh 14 to 19. The decision of the tribe of Ruben, the tribe of Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh to settle on the eastern shores of the Jordan was merely authorized by Moses, as opposed to ordained by God: in other words, these two and a half tribes had only settled in Transjordan following a Mosaic concession, redrafting the original plan.113 The promised land does cover a larger territory in two other traditions. In one of these traditions, which is considered sacerdotal,114 it is still limited to a strip of land stretching from the Mediterranean to the river Jordan, and bounded to the south by the Wadi of Egypt. However, in this tradition its northern frontier extends to a place described as “the entrance of Hamath,” or “Lebo-Hamath,” if

113 Weinfeld, The Promise of the Land, 59–60: “The territory of Transjordan was not included, at the outset, in the borders of the promise, and it was actually conquered only incidentally: because Sihon, the king of the Amorites, did not let the Israelites pass through his land on their way to the land of Canaan, they were obliged to fight him, and in this way his land was conquered and passed into the hands of Israel. … The chance nature of the conquest of Transjordan is made clear in Num. 32: when the Reubenites and the Gadites ask to settle in Transjordan, their request is something of a surprise to Moses, who considers it a sin equal in weight to the sin of the spies (Num 32:20–22). In fact, the whole tradition about the settlement in Transjordan in Num. 32 is apologetic, attempting to justify the settlement of the tribes on the eastern side of the Jordan by proving that the Gadites and the Reubenites actually fought with the rest of the tribes on the western side and were therefore allowed to settle on the eastern side.” See also M. Weinfeld, “The Extent of the Promised Land–The Status of Transjordan,” in Das Land Israels in Biblischer Zeit (ed. G. Strecker; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1983), 59–75; S. E. Loewenstamm, “The Settlement of Gad and Reuben as Related in Num. 32:1–38–Background and Composition,” in From Babylon to Canaan: Studies in the Bible and Its Oriental Background (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1992), 109–130. Rabbinic texts also echo the notion that originally Transjordan was not part of the land that God promised to Israel. Thus, Moshe Weinfeld writes that “The Rabbis also saw in the conquest of Transjordan an act that had not received the a priori approval of God: with respect to the verse ‘you shall take some of every first fruit of the soil, which you harvest from the land that the Lord your God is giving you,’ Rabbi Simeon says, ‘Except Transjordan, which you took by yourself ’” (The Promise of the Land, 63; the quotations are from Deut 26:2 and Sifre Deuteronomy 299). 114 See E. Cortese, La terra di Canaan nella storia sacerdotale del Pentateuco (Brescia: Pai­ deia, 1972) and in particular 41–51 on Num 34:1–12.

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Lebo is understood as a proper noun.115 The text which seems to reflect this interpretation most clearly is Num 34:1–12:116 The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: 2 Command the Israelites, and say to them: When you enter the land of Canaan (this is the land that shall fall to you for an inheritance, the land of Canaan, defined by its boundaries), 3 your south sector shall extend from the wilderness of Zin along the side of Edom. Your southern boundary shall begin from the end of the Dead Sea on the east; 4 your boundary shall turn south of the ascent of Akrabbim, and cross to Zin, and its outer limit shall be south of KadeshBarnea; then it shall go on to Hazar-Addar, and cross to Azmon; 5 the boundary shall turn from Azmon to the Wadi of Egypt, and its termination shall be at the Sea. 6 For the western boundary, you shall have the Great Sea and its coast; this shall be your western boundary. 7 This shall be your northern boundary: from the Great Sea you shall mark out your line to Mount Hor; 8 from Mount Hor you shall mark it out to Lebo-Hamath, and the outer limit of the boundary shall be at Zedad; 9 then the boundary shall extend to Ziphron, and its end shall be at Hazar-Enan; this shall be your northern boundary. 10 You shall mark out your eastern boundary from Hazar-Enan to Shepham; 11 and the boundary shall continue down from Shepham to Riblah on the east side of Ain; and the boundary shall go down, and reach the eastern slope of the sea of Chinnereth; 12 and the boundary shall go down to the Jordan, and its end shall be at the Dead Sea. This shall be your land with its boundaries all round.

In Num 13:21, the spies that Moses dispatched on an exploratory mission to Canaan travel “from the wilderness of Zin to Rehob, near Lebo-Hamath (or: Rehob, at the entrance of Hamath)”.117 In other passages, such as Josh 13:5 or Judg 3:3, the north-

115 On the identification of Hamath and Lebo-Hamath (also mentioned in Num 34:8), see Abel, Géographie de la Palestine, 1:299–301; Wazana, All the Boundaries of the Land, 268–271. In Numbers 1–20 (AB 4A; New York: Doubleday, 1993), 350 and 354, Baruch A. Levine argues that the correct translation is “to Rehov, at Lebo of Hamath,” and that Lebo was a settlement in the region of Hamath; he cites Benjamin Mazar, (“Lebô’ H.amât”) who identified Lebo with Lab’u, mentioned in the Annals of Tiglath-Pileser III, and with Libo, a place referred to in a Roman text. However, the location of Rehov relative to Lebo remains unclear even if we agree with Mazar and Levine’s interpretation. 116 See also Judg 3:3; 1 Kgs 8:65; Am 6:14. Moshe Weinfeld argues, after Benjamin Mazar, that this account of the borders of Canaan reflects the territorial reality of Canaan towards the end of the Egyptian empire, i. e. at the end of the Bronze Age (The Promise of the Land, 64). 117 In his translation of Num 13:21 (22) in the Septuagint, Gilles Dorival interprets this passage as “from the desert of Zin to Rhaab-entrance-of-Hamath” (for “ἀπὸ τῆς ἐρήμου Σιν ἕως Ρααβ εἰσπορευομένων Ἑμάθ”); see La Bible d’Alexandrie. IV. Les Nombres (Paris: Cerf, 1994), 311. See also J. W. Wevers, Numeri. Septuaginta III/1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 1982), 179. The Codex Alexandrinus has Αιμαθ, whereas Rahlfs opted for Εφααθ. See also J. W. W ­ evers, “Text History of the Greek Numbers,” in Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen 125. Mitteilungen des Septuaginta-Unternehmens (MSU) 16 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Rup­ recht, 1982), 7–139; this is what he writes on the subject of Hamath on p. 116: “Inexplicably, the tradition confused it with the Euphrates as is shown in the εφρααθ of d n-75 t x-509 and ephrath of

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ern frontier of the promised land stretches from Mount Hermon to the “entrance of Hamath”. In Josh 13:5, this area is part of the region still to be conquered and includes “the land of the Gebalites, and all Lebanon, towards the east, from BaalGad below Mount Hermon to Lebo-Hamath (or: to the entrance of Hamath; LXX: ἕως τῆς εἰσόδου Εμαθ), all the inhabitants of the hill country from Lebanon to Misrephoth-Maim, even all the Sidonians” (13:5–6). According to this tradition,118 one of the defining landmarks on the northern frontier of the promised land is a settlement called Hamath, which was possibly located on the banks of the Orontes river in Syria, although various other places can also be identified with “Hamath.” Indeed, the phrase “Rehov at the entrance of/on the way to Hamath” in Num 13:21 could also refer to a settlement located far to the south of Hamath itself. In other words, the exact location of the northern border of the promised land remains open to interpretation. According to Moshe Weinfeld, “this system of borders includes territories that were inhabited by Israelites in the days of David, especially in the vicinity of Tyre and Sidon.”119 However, from a historical point of view, such a claim is difficult to substantiate. Echoes of this territorial vision can also be found in later biblical books, for example in Ezek 47:15–20. In another tradition, which we might describe as “maximalist” and utopian, the territory of the promised land extends from the Wadi of Egypt (or even the Nile) to the Euphrates, and includes large sections of territories which today are part of Lebanon and Syria, as well as the eastern shore of the river Jordan. This tradition is especially prevalent in Genesis (15:18), but there are also traces of it in Deut 1:7 (which mentions the Euphrates, in connection with God’s promise to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) and 11:24: “… your territory shall extend from the wilderness to the Lebanon and from the River, the river Euphrates, to the Western Sea.”120 In this rather unrealistic vision, the Israelites would have had to expel many more peoples than the Canaanites in order to take possession of the promised land. According to Moshe Weinfeld, this vision dates back to the period of the United Monarchy.121 Although there are texts which attribute such proportions to the kingdom of David or Solomon, it now seems established that they do not reflect a historical fact, which leaves open the question of the origin of this tradition. Moreover, the size of the kingdom of David varies within the Second Book of Samuel itself. According to 2 Sam 3:10, God promised to

Arm. This apparently led to the error εφααθ attested in B 376 509 Latcod100 Sa1 = Ra.” This can probably be explained by the influence of the maximalist view, according to which the Euphrates bordered the promised land to the northeast. 118 See also Judg 3:3 and 1 Kgs 8:65. 119 The Promise of the Land, 55. See also N. Na’aman, Borders and Districts in Biblical Historiography (Jerusalem: Simor, 1986), 39–73. 120 See also Exod 23:31 (“from the wilderness to the Euphrates”); Josh 1:4. 121 The Promise of the Land, 65–66.

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set up the throne of David over Israel and Judah, “from Dan to Beersheba”: far from reflecting the utopian vision of the land of Israel, this illustrates the most minimal definition of the promised land. However, in 2 Sam 8:3, we read that “David also struck down king Hadadezer son of Rehob of Zobah, as he went to restore (his border) at the river Euphrates,” implying that the kingdom of David extended all the way to the Euphrates. Later, in 2 Sam 24:5–8, when David takes a census of the population, his kingdom extends only from Beersheba in the south to Gilead in the northeast and Tyre and Sidon in the northwest. Finally, according to 1 Kings 4:21, “Solomon was sovereign over all the kingdoms from the river (Euphrates) to the land of the Philistines, even to the border of Egypt.” In other words, there are several different biblical traditions on the subject of the size of the kingdom of David and Solomon. The Jewish writings of the Second Temple Period also articulate several different conceptions of the land of Israel, including the perspective of the maximalist biblical tradition, which is voiced in the Genesis Apocryphon and the Book of Jubilees, both rewritings of Genesis.122 However, since the dating of these works is open to debate and their association with the Hasmonean dynasty uncertain, it is not possible to deduce from them how those who supported the dynasty envisaged the frontiers of Israel.123

4.2 The question of the perenniality of the commandment to conquer the promised land  This question alone would necessitate an in-depth investigation of the history of Jewish thought. I shall merely observe that if, from the perspective of the Bible, God irrevocably gives the land of Canaan to the people of Israel, God nevertheless also condemns his people to exile (in particular in the Deuteronomistic historiography). When, later on, God promises to his people that they will return to the land of Israel, he does not order them to launch a new war of conquest. From this point of view, the traditional rabbinic notion that the people could not return to Israel without divine intervention, is firmly rooted in the prophetic traditions. The commandment to conquer the land seems to have been issued only once in the history of Israel, in the context of the exodus from Egypt.124 Even if, from the point of view of the Jewish tradition, and especially in various mystical movements, 122 See Mendels, The Land of Israel, 57–88. 123 On these two books, see Part I, § 7. On the fragments of Eupolemus, see the Excursus at the end of the book. 124 See M. Weinfeld, “The Ban on the Canaanites in the Biblical Codes and its Historical Development,” in History and Traditions of Early Israel (ed. A. Lemaire; Leiden: Brill, 1993), 142– 160. Writing on Num 33:50–56, which does not mention the tribes living in Canaan by name

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residence in the land of Israel is a commandment or a duty, this is not equivalent to being under obligation to conquer it. Thus, according to Zeev Harvey, Rabbi Isaac Jacob Reines (1839–1915), who co-founded the Mizrachi Religious Zionist Movement, drew a distinction between the requirement to live in the homeland and the obligation to conquer it with arms, and believed it was only legitimate to engage in political negotiations or purchase of land.125 Zeev Harvey also adds: “Be that as it may, Rabbi Reines is careful not to draw any parallels between the Maccabees and the conquering army of Joshua. Indeed, one is almost tempted to say that if there is any parallel at all here, it is between the Maccabees and the Canaanites.”126 Although this example takes us away from the Hasmonean period, it alerts us to the danger of confusing the belief that God gave the land to Israel with the notion that the armed conquest of the land was decreed for all time, as though the former automatically implied the latter. In other words, we should not assume, but demonstrate, that the Hasmoneans believed themselves to be invested with the mission to reconquer the promised land (or land of Israel).

4.3 The “conversion” of non-Jews Nowhere in the Hebrew Bible is there any legitimation for the use of force to compel non-Israelites to adopt the Mosaic commandments. There is thus no biblical precedent or model for the supposed “conversion” of the Idumeans and Itureans under John Hyrcanus and Aristobulus I, and of other groups under Jannaeus. Indeed, the Bible explicitly contradicts the notion that John Hyrcanus and his descendants thought that the peoples living on the “Land of Israel” were Canaanites, or that they understood the precepts regarding the Canaanites to be applicable to any non-Jewish person living in the “Holy Land”. The Bible prescribes only but speaks instead of “all the inhabitants of the land” (v. 52), Weinfeld reminds us that this verse led Nahmanides to think that God did not merely ordain the conquest and dispossession of the seven tribes of Canaan, but of all non-Jews at any time in history, even after the exile. However, Weinfeld argues that this was an isolated opinion, and also estimates that this does not reflect a literal reading of the Bible. According to him, it was only the generation of the exodus that was ordered to dispossess the Canaanites: in other words, this was not a “timeless decree” (h.oq ‘olam) (148). Pace Zeev Safrai, who writes: “The conquest or liberation of Judea is, as we know, a central and explicit divine command, obeyed by the Israelites ever since the days of Joshua. The Hasmoneans would undoubtedly regard themselves as bound to this mission …” (“The Gentile Cities of Judea: Between the Hasmonean Occupation and the Roman Liberation,” in Studies in Historical Geography and Biblical Historiography presented to Zecharia Kallai [G. Galil and M. Weinfeld, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2000], 63–90; the quotation is on p. 76–77). 125 See Warren Zeev Harvey, “Rabbi Reines on the Conquest of Canaan and Zionism,” in The Gift of the Land and the Fate of the Canaanites in Jewish Thought (ed. K. Berthelot et al.; New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 386–398. 126 Harvey, ibid., 393.

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two possible scenarios when it comes to the Canaanites: expulsion or extermination.127 In contrast, the conquest of Idumea by John Hyrcanus was followed by the Judaization of its population (who were given a choice between exile, death, and the adoption of the practice of circumcision and of the laws and lifestyle of the Judeans). Hyrcanus took a political decision that explicitly contradicted the prescriptions for what should be done after the conquest of Canaan. Moreover, there is not a single passage of the Bible describing the forced Judaization of a people subject to the rule of Israel. It is therefore not possible to invoke the biblical model of Joshua or the prescriptions of Deuteronomy for the policy pursued by Hyrcanus. Instead, an other type of explanation is needed.128

5. “Religion” and “politics”: two problematic categories in the historiography of the Hasmonean period As we have seen in the previous pages, ever since the nineteenth century, historians have been debating whether the Hasmonean dynasty was “pious” or “worldly,” “secular” or “religious.” Indeed, the Hasmoneans have occasionally been portrayed simultaneously as fanatics (because of their “forced conversions” of non-Jews) and secular (either because they were accused of mixing politics with religion, or because they were said to have been so Hellenized that they constituted one of the Hellenistic monarchies of the Orient, like the Nabateans for example). These stances in large part reflect the personal convictions of their authors, as well as their conception of Judaism as primarily a religion, or a national culture and the political project of a people. Overall, however, the assumption held by many nineteenth- and some twentieth-century scholars that “politics” and “religion” were radically at odds with each other is both anachronistic and fallacious: on the contrary, these two notions were closely interconnected in Second Temple Judaism, as well as in Antiquity in general. This debate has acquired a new dimension over the last ten years, in light of the heated discussions between those who argue that the term Ioudaios should be translated “Jew” (or “Juif ” in French, or “Jude” in German) and those who prefer “Judean” (or ‘Judéen” in French, or “Judäer” in German). Indeed, some scholars have even attempted to draw a distinction between Yehudi and Yehudaï in modern Hebrew.129 Personally, I use the term “Judean” if this is geographically relevant, that is to say, when I wish to speak of the Jews of Judea (and since I often do, this 127 For a detailed analysis of this issue, including an analysis of the alternative tradition associated with Genesis 9, see Part I, § 4.1, and Part II, § 3. 128 See Part II, § 3. 129 The bibliography on this question is extensive and includes, in particular: S. J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness; S. Mason, “Jews, Judeans, Judaizing, Judaism: Problems of Categorization in Ancient History, JSJ 38/4–5 (2007): 457–512; D. R. Schwartz, “ ‘Judaean’ or ‘Jew’?:

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word recurs frequently under my pen in this book). In French, this issue is easy to solve, in fact, at least in the case of the noun: whereas the capitalized word “Juif ” emphasizes ethnicity and refers to a member of the Jewish people, the uncapitalized “juif ” refers to a member of the Jewish religion. (However, this distinction disappears when this word in used as an adjective, since adjectives cannot be capitalized in French). Insofar as the word “Juif ” emphasizes ethnicity, which is precisely the goal of those who advocate translating Ioudaios as “Judean,” there is in fact no need in French for the word “Judéen,” except when the word has a geographical meaning. For Steve Mason, the main argument in favour of the word “Judean” is that the Jewish religion did not properly exist in antiquity, at least not before the fourth century C.E. Instead, he considers that what we call “religion” refers to various aspects of the life of an ethnic group, and he translates Ioudaios as “Judean” in order to restore the ethnic dimension of that term. However, it is not enough to ask whether Ioudaios (or Yehudi) should be translated as “Jew” or “Judean”: instead, we also need to ask what was understood by the word Ioudaios, whether its meaning evolved and whether its signification can vary depending on the context, including under the pen of a single author. The refusal of Steve Mason, Daniel Boyarin and others to speak of a Jewish religion in Antiquity has its roots in the fact that their definition of “religion” is based on a Christian model, which, among other things, emphasizes the importance of dogma in the formal organisation of the belief content and focuses on the individual. In contrast, it seems to me, after John Scheid, whose work on “Roman religion” attracted the same type of criticism, that it is legitimate to reject such a restrictive understanding of “religion” in favour of a broader definition, based on different models depending on the case (thus, John Scheid speaks of a “civic religion” in the context of ancient Rome).130 In the context of the ancient Near East and of the Mediterranean area, it seems possible to propose a minimal definition

How should we translate Ioudaios in Josephus?,” in Jewish Identity in the Greco-Roman World (ed. J. Frey; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 3–27; D. Boyarin, “Semantic Differences; or, ‘Judaism’/‘Christia­ nity’,” in The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (A. H. Becker and A. Yoshiko Reed, ed.; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007), 65–85; S. Schwartz, “How Many Judaisms Were There?: A Critique of Neusner and Smith on Definition and Mason and Boyarin on Categorization,” JAJ 2/2 (2011): 208–238; D. R. Schwartz, “Judeans, Jews, and their Neighbors: Jewish Identity in the Second Temple Period”; idem, Judeans and Jews: Four Faces of Dichotomy in Ancient Jewish History. David M. Miller gives a clear summary of this debate in three articles: “The Meaning of Ioudaios and its Relationship to Other Group Labels in Ancient ‘Judaism’,” CBR 9/1 (2010): 98–126; “Ethnicity Comes of Age: An Overview of Twentieth-­Century Terms for Ioudaios,” CBR 10/2 (2012): 293–311; “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning of Ioudaios in Ancient ‘Judaism’,” CBR 12/2 (2014): 216–265. 130 See in particular Scheid, The Gods, The State and the Individual: Reflections on Civic Religion in Rome (trans. and foreword by Clifford Ando; Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University Press, 2015). On the plurality of definitions that can apply to the term “religion” and on the fact

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of “religion” as the set of rites, norms and representations mobilized by human beings, either individually or collectively, in their relationship with one or more divinities. Although historians of Antiquity must of course refrain from anachronistically projecting their own categories onto the periods they study, their work nevertheless also involves a task of translation, since they must make the ancient world intelligible to modern readers. It thus seems legitimate, within the bounds of a carefully constructed methodological framework, to use the words “religion” and “politics” in the context of ancient Judaism. However, it must immediately be emphasized that politics and religion (or: cults) were closely associated in the ancient world in general and in Judaism in particular.131 In the Hellenistic world as in the Bible, piety was a virtue that was expected of kings, who were responsible for the smooth operation of public cults. Hellenistic rulers did not merely put temples under fiscal pressure, they also behaved as benefactors and intervened directly in the management and organisation of sanctuaries.132 Moreover, making the gods favourable to one’s cause was in fact a widespread concern in the ancient world, particularly in times of war. Politics and warfare had obvious cultic dimensions. The Jewish laws (also called patrioi nomoi, “ancestral laws”) also clearly had simultaneously political and religious dimensions, from both an internal and an external perspective. From the perspective of the Seleucid kings, they represented the laws or the customs of the Judean ethnos, which first benefitted from a kind of political recognition on behalf of the Seleucid authorities, as is clear in the letter of Antiochus III to the stratēgos Ptolemy (Josephus, Ant. 12.138–144) or in the prostagma which guaranteed the purity of the temple of Jerusalem (Ant. 12.145–146). From a Jewish point of view, Israel’s relationship with its God was based on the respect of these laws, inde-

that this is a heuristic concept, see Jonathan Z. Smith, “Religion, Religions, Religious,” in Relating Religion: Essays in the Study of Religion (Chicago–London: The University of Chicago Press, 2004), 179–196, and see also the rest of Smith’s book more widely. 131 This is also emphasized by Sylvie Honigman, who devotes several pages to this issue in Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 51–64. 132 On the world of the Lagids, see G. Gorre, Les relations du clergé égyptien et des Lagides d’après les sources privées (Leuven: Peeters, 2009); on the Seleucid dynasty, see L. Capdetrey, Le pouvoir séleucide : Territoire, administration, finances d’un royaume hellénistique (312–129 avant J.-C.) (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2007), 167–189 and 321–329; Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, especially chapter 9, “Seleukos IV Philopator and the Revision of Antiochos III’s Settlement in Judea, 187–175 B.C.E.,” 316–344. As far as Judea is concerned, the discovery of the Heliodorus (or Olympiodoros) stele has cast new light on the policy of Seleucus IV. I refer the reader to Sylvie Honigman’s book, as well as to H. M. Cotton and M. Wörrle, “Seleukos IV to Heliodoros. A New Dossier of Royal Correspondence from Israel,” ZPE 159 (2007): 191–205; D. Gera, “Olympiodoros, Heliodoros and the temples of Koilé and Phoiniké,” ZPE 169 (2009): 125–155; and C. P. Jones, “The Inscription from Tel Maresha for Olympiodoros,” ZPE 171 (2009): 100–104.

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pendently of their field of application (i. e. even when these laws did not concern the rituals performed in the temple). It therefore makes no sense to speak of the “secular” dimension of either the First Book of Maccabees or the Hasmonean dynasty. Indeed, almost all the Hasmonean rulers held the office of the high priesthood, which by definition implied many cultic duties. Although it is true that the author of 1 Maccabees does not focus as much on divine interventions, miracles and visions as the author of 2 Macca­ bees, and although in 1 Maccabees the Hasmoneans play a bigger role than the angels in the mediation of divine salvation,133 this does not mean that 1 Maccabees is a “secular” book. Similarly, it is not because the Hasmoneans had in many ways become Hellenized that they were not “pious,” in the classical sense of the term – i. e. scrupulously observant (I do of course look at every Hasmonean ruler on a case by case basis in further sections, in order to avoid the pitfalls of gene­ ralisations). What I wish to emphasize here, is how unhelpful it is, in the context of a discussion of the Hasmoneans, to resort to categories such as “secular” and to dichotomies pitting the “Jews,” the “pious” or the “faithful” against the “Hellenized,” these concepts implying a normative and essentialist vision of the ancient Jewish world. In other words, the fact that some of the behaviours of the Hasmoneans point to their “Hellenisation” does not mean that they had “strayed from Judaism” or were no longer “pious”. I also wish to add that I do not try to suggest in this book that the Hasmoneans did not seek to reconquer the promised land because they were Hellenized and would thus have been cut off from the biblical/ Jewish tradition. Instead, I argue that this question calls for a different approach, starting with a critical examination of the sources. My overall thesis in this book is that it is important to distinguish between the historical reality of the Hasmonean wars and their literary representation in the First and Second Books of the Maccabees. I argue that the Hasmonean wars of conquest should not be perceived through the lens of biblical models or references alone, but also examined within the wider context of the Hellenistic world and its modus operandi, particularly political and juridical. This does not mean dismissing the religious discourses and acts mentioned in the sources. It is clear, for example, that devotion to the Mosaic laws and the sacred character of the temple of Jerusalem played an important role during the Hasmonean period. However, the religious or politico-religious dimension of the wars waged by the Hasmoneans is not necessarily synonymous with an ambition to reconquer the promised land or the territory occupied by the kingdom of David.

133 See Part I, infra.

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6. The structure of this book and its guiding principles The excessively sweeping use of the word “Hasmonean” and the presupposition that the motivations and ideology of the Hasmoneans stayed the same from Judas to Aristobulus I, or even Mattathias Antigonus, is one of the stumbling blocks of the scholarship on the period. Yet, from as early as the nineteenth century, historians started drawing a distinction between Judas and his brothers, on the one hand, and John Hyrcanus and his successors, on the other. Some historians locate this shift between the reigns of Hyrcanus I and Aristobulus I, or rather Jannaeus, because Aristobulus was only in power for a short time. Scholars give a different account of this evolution depending on their sources: although 1 Maccabees ends with John Hyrcanus coming to power, for example, there is very little about his high priesthood in this book, compared with the work of Josephus. These discrepancies may also have to do with the global interpretation of the period favoured by each historian. Yet, it seems to me that there is a prevailing tendency, whatever the approach, to attribute the same political outlook and underpinning ideals to the Hasmonean dynasty as a whole.134 This tendency illustrates an ideological construct more than it does a historical reality. In other words, while it remains justified to speak of “the” Hasmoneans or of the Hasmonean dynasty as a whole, it is important to focus closely on the characteristics of each ruler, instead of assuming that we are familiar with their ideology and motivations in a general way. In fact, this is why I quote March Bloch’s The Historian’s Craft in the epigraph to this book: “In history, as elsewhere, the causes cannot be assumed. They have to be looked for.”135 This is what I have tried to do in this book, and it has led me to complement an overall chronological approach with a study distinguishing between different types of sources. In Part I, I focus on the account of the Hasmonean dynasty in 1 Maccabees, the only work which we can say with some confidence more or less reflects the perspective of the dynasty, probably under the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus. As we read 1 Maccabees, we analyse the actions of Judas, Jonathan and Simon. The conflicts they were involved in were for the most part wars of liberation, as opposed to wars of conquest: the first conquests, properly speaking, were achieved by Simon. In Part II, I examine the period of Judean territorial expansion from John Hyrcanus to Aristobulus II. The main sources for this period include the writings of Flavius Josephus, and archaeological, epigraphic and numismatic data. In Part III, I depart from my 134 This is, it seems to me, one of the characteristics of The Hasmoneans: Ideology, Archaeology, Identity by Eyal Regev (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013). However, this is not the case in The House of the Hasmoneans, where Uriel Rappaport takes care to distinguish between different Hasmoneans. 135 Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft (trans. Peter Putnam; Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992), XXII.

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chronological approach in the previous chapters, in order to turn to sources such as the Qumran scrolls, pseudepigrapha and rabbinic writings, all of which have something to say, albeit indirectly and elusively, about the Jewish perception of the Hasmonean wars at the time of the dynasty and later. Although these sources do not cast much light on the objectives and motivations of the Hasmoneans, and although their interpretation and dating raise a number of questions, they nevertheless offer us valuable insights into the perception of the Hasmonean wars by the Jews of the period and later on by the rabbis who preserved the memory of these events in their writings. In particular, they shed light on the question of whether these campaigns were perceived as an attempt to reconquer the promised land, or whether this is in fact a modern reading of the Hasmonean wars.

Part I Did the Hasmoneans Seek to Reconquer the Promised Land or Restore Judea? The Account of the Hasmonean Wars in 1 Maccabees

The First Book of Maccabees is the main source we have on the policies of the Hasmoneans from the early days of the dynasty until the assassination of Simon and the rise to power of Hyrcanus. After that point, we have to turn to Josephus, without whom our knowledge of the history of Judea from John Hyrcanus to Alexander Jannaeus would be almost entirely dependent on the scraps of information provided by archaeological data, the Qumran scrolls, pseudepigrapha, and Greco-Roman and rabbinic texts. I shall therefore start with a brief overview of the broad lines of 1 Maccabees and the parallel accounts of 2 Maccabees and the work of Flavius Josephus.

1. The First Book of Maccabees: general presentation 1.1 The contents of the book1 The First Book of Maccabees opens with an account of the meteoric career of Alexander the Great and closes on the assassination of Simon in February 134 B.C.E., followed by the rise to power of his son John Hyrcanus.2 The years separating Alexander from Antiochus IV Epiphanes seem to have been of little interest 1 For a rapid overview of the structure of this book, see U. Rappaport, “1 Maccabees,” in The Oxford Bible Commentary (J. Barton and J. Muddiman, ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 710–734 (712–713). After the first two chapters, scholars generally distinguish between a section focusing on Judas (until 9:22) and another focusing on Jonathan and Simon, which is itself often subdivided into two parts. It is thus possible to divide 1 Maccabees into three to five different sections. On the different ways of dividing this book, see N. Martola, Capture and Liberation: A Study in the Composition of the First Book of Maccabees (Abo: Abo Akademi, 1984), 18–19. David Williams has suggested another tripartite division: 1–6:17; 6:18–14:15; 14:16– 16:24; see D. S. Williams, The Structure of 1 Maccabees (Washington: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1999), in particular chapter 5 and the conclusion (128–137). More recently, Sylvie Honig­man has proposed a new literary analysis of this work, in light of a literary motif connecting royal legitimacy with the rebuilding of sanctuaries, examples of which she finds in Mesopotamia; see Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 147–181 (chap. 4). 2 On the reference to the noble deeds of John Hyrcanus in 1 Macc 16:23–24, see infra.

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to the author, who summarizes them in a few lines, before moving on to describe the situation in Judea under Antiochus. The author begins by mentioning the pernicious influence over the Judean population of impious Jews, who wished to become like other nations. He then recalls the two campaigns that Antiochus waged against Jerusalem in 169 and 168 B.C.E. He mentions that after the second of these campaigns the citadel of the Acra was built next to the temple, towering over it; the Jews were forbidden to observe their religion and follow customs such as the Sabbath, circumcision, and the kashrut;3 and many martyrs died trying to stand up to the king. All of these events are listed in the first chapter. The second chapter focuses on Mattathias, father of Judas Maccabee. Mattathias is credited with starting a rebellion against the king when he killed two men in close succession, a Judean who was about to perform a pagan sacrifice and the officer who was responsible for enforcing the decrees of the king. This chapter ends with the death of Mattathias and his spiritual testament to his sons, asking them to follow the example set by various prominent figures from the history of Israel. Mattathias also tells his sons that their brother Simon will be their new “father,” while their brother Judas will lead their struggle against other nations (2:65–66). From chapter 3 to chapter 9:22, the narrative focuses on Judas and his victorious campaigns against Seleucid generals. We are told that Judas seized the fortress of Beth-Zur (3:1–4:35), purified and dedicated the sanctuary (4:36–61), and launched a series of military expeditions in Idumea and Gilead, as well as on the coastal plain, in order to defend (or avenge) Jews under threat from other nations, and bring them back to Judea (chapter 5).4 In chapters 6 and 7, Judas resumes his struggle against the Seleucids and their renegade Judean allies, defeating Nicanor, a Seleucid general; eventually, however, he falls in battle, defeated by Bacchides (9:1–22). Chapter 8 tells the story of how the Judeans and the Romans signed an alliance treaty, at the instigation of Judas. From 1 Macc 9:23 to 12:53, the focus is on Jonathan. This section may be subdivided into two parts: from 1 Macc 9:23 to 10:14, the emphasis is on Jonathan’s first campaigns (initially at a disadvantage, he ends up moving back to and rebuilding Jerusalem), while from 1 Macc 10:15 to 12:53, the accent is on his rise to the high priesthood and the Judean leadership. Some of Simon’s deeds are also mentioned in this section, in particular his capture of Beth-Zur. In chapter 12, Jonathan renews the friendship and alliance of Judea with Rome; an exchange of correspondence between Judea and Sparta is also mentioned in this context (12:5–23).

3 Sylvie Honigman argues that the parallel narrative presented in Dan 11:29–39 suggests that these two episodes in fact occurred as a single event; see Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 233–258. 4 For a detailed analysis of these campaigns, see § 4.2.2 (infra).

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At the end of chapter 12, Jonathan is taken prisoner by Trypho. Although his death is only mentioned in 1 Macc 13:23, chapter 1 opens with the rule of Simon, who takes over from his brother in 143 B.C.E., rises to the high priesthood in his turn and becomes the Judean ethnarch. He rebuilds the citadels of Judea, and seizes Gazara and the Acra, which he purifies, rebuilds, and fortifies. Chapter 14 begins with a tribute to Simon celebrating his deeds and everything he did for Judea. This is followed by a reference to Simon’s renewal of the alliance between Rome and Judea, and to a letter from the Spartans – where the Judeans had sent emissaries – expressing the wish to renew their friendship with Judea (14:16–24). After this comes a passage saying that a decree celebrating the deeds of Simon, and confirming that he was made high priest, general and ethnarch in perpetuity, and entrusted with almost absolute powers, was engraved on bronze tablets and placed inside the sanctuary, while copies were also deposited in the treasury. Chapter 15 focuses on the conflict between Simon and Antiochus VII, and their diplomatic exchanges on the subject of the citadels and territories that Antiochus claimed for his kingdom (in particular, Joppa, Gazara, and the Acra in Jerusalem). Just before this dispute is described, the text mentions that Rome had agreed to renew its friendship and alliance with Judea, and sent a letter to various kingdoms and cities instructing them not to wage war on the Judeans (15:15–24). From 1 Macc 15:37 to 16:19, the author describes the war that Simon and his son John won against Cendebeus, commander-in-chief of the coastal area. Then comes the account of the death of Simon at the hands of his treacherous son-in-law Ptolemy, who also assassinated two of Simon’s sons, Mattathias and Judas. The only one to escape this political assassination is John, who was in Gazara. After a brief summary of the aftermath of these events, the book ends rather abruptly with a reference directing the reader to other sources, in a passage imitating the style of the Book of Kings and the ending of the cycle of Judas (1 Macc 9:22): “And the rest of the stories about John and his wars and his heroic deeds which he did and the building of the walls which he built and his actions, look, these have been written in the book of days of his high priesthood from the time when he became high priest after his father” (1 Macc 16:23–24).5

1.2 The language, context, date and compositional unity of the book It is widely agreed that the First Book of Maccabees, which includes a large number of Semitisms, was originally written in Hebrew, even if it was transmitted to us in Greek. Its Greek translation was broadly, but not systematically, inspired by

5 A New English Translation of the Septuagint (trans. G. T. Zervos; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 502 (henceforth referred to as NETS).

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the Septuagint.6 The author of 1 Maccabees is also widely considered to have been a Hasmonean court historian bent on bolstering the legitimacy of the dynasty, and especially of Simon. It seems probable that he was given access to archival documents kept in Jerusalem.7 The date of the original Hebrew text of 1 Maccabees is a subject of scholarly debate. According to Carl L. W. Grimm,8 this book was originally written between 105 and 64 B.C.E., i. e. just before the death of John Hyrcanus, or during the reign of either his son Aristobulus or Alexander Jannaeus, if not later still, during the reign of Salome Alexandra or the high priesthood of Hyrcanus II. Later studies have considerably narrowed the time frame when this book may have been written. Jonathan Goldstein associates it with the reign of Jannaeus, on the grounds that the second letter of 2 Maccabees, which he dates to 103 B.C.E., suggests that 1 Maccabees had not yet been written at the time.9 However, this argument cannot hold, since the letters making up the Prologue of 2 Maccabees in fact date from long before 103 B.C.E.10 It seems clear that 1 Maccabees was written after John Hyrcanus rose to power, either before his death or shortly afterwards. This narrows down the date of its composition to circa 134–100 B.C.E. In fact, the majority of commentators tend to date 1 Maccabees to no later than circa 100 B.C.E.,11 and   6 As Agneta Enermalm-Ogawa observes, “Le traducteur reprend beaucoup d’expressions qu’il a trouvées telles quelles dans les livres bibliques déjà traduits. Du moins, c’est là une explication très probable des ressemblances que tout lecteur constate. Autrement, on pourrait expliquer en fonction du bilinguisme le fait que deux traducteurs, opérant sur les mêmes langues, s’expriment similairement. Mais le travail continu de traduction de l’hébreu en grec a eu pour résultat ce que l’on appelle en anglais un sub-language. Des habitudes linguistiques furent fixées et, qui plus est, devinrent exemplaires. Par conséquent, il doit être légitime de considérer les données linguistiques de I M dans le cadre de la Septante ou plus précisément le langage des livres traduits” (Un langage de prière juif en grec: le témoignage des deux premiers livres des Maccabées [Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1987], 1112).   7 See K.-D. Schunck, Historische und legendarische Erzählungen. 1. Makkabäerbuch (JSHRZ 1.4; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1980), 292; J. A. Goldstein, I Maccabees (AB 41A; New York: Doubleday, 1983), 12, 33, 240–241; Rappaport, “1 Maccabees,” 711–712; idem, The First Book of Maccabees, 48–50 (Heb.). Bezalel Bar-Kochva considers that the author of 1 Maccabees actually took part in some of the battles that Judas waged (Judas Maccabeus, 153–159).   8 Grimm, Das erste Buch der Maccabäer (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1853), XXIV–XXV.   9 Goldstein, I Maccabees, 62–64. 10 See my presentation of 2 Maccabees, infra. 11 Félix-Marie Abel dates it to circa 100 B.C.E. in Les livres des Maccabées (Paris: Gabalda, 1949), XXVIII–XXIX; K.-D. Schunck opts for a date circa 120 B.C.E. (Historische und legen­ darische Erzählungen. 1. Makkabäerbuch, 292). In Bücher 1/2 Makkabäer, Stephanie von Dobbeler prefers a date shortly after 134 B.C.E., in the early days of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus (Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar, Altes Testament 11; Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1997), 46. In fact, her theory echoes those of Arnaldo Momigliano and Seth Schwartz, who both date 1 Maccabees to the first years of the rule of Hyrcanus. See A. Momigliano, “The Date of the First Book of Maccabees,” in L’Italie préromaine et la Rome républicaine. I. Mélanges offerts à Jacques Heurgon (Rome: Ecole Française de Rome, 1976), 657–661; and S. Schwartz, “Israel and

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most of them focus on the beginning or the end of the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus, or possibly the early years of the reign of Alexander Jannaeus. Oddly enough, no one seems to think that Aristobulus may have been responsible for promoting the writing of this book. Yet, there would be nothing absurd about such a theory, even though he was only in power for about a year and little is known about his reign. The fact that 1 Macc 16:23 only mentions the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem to celebrate the deeds of Hyrcanus, could be interpreted as suggesting that the book was written before the latter launched his great campaigns against Idumea and Samaria. However, the archaeological data found at the main sites concerned by these expeditions show that the chronology provided by Flavius Josephus is unreliable, and that the territorial expansion of Judea under the leadership of Hyrcanus dates from 112 or 111 B.C.E. at the earliest.12 If we suppose that the absence of any reference to these conquests provides us with a reliable indication of the date of the book, this would suggest that 1 Maccabees was written before 112 B.C.E. However, this could also be the result of a deliberate choice on the part of the author, for example if he wished to focus on the ancestors of John Hyrcanus, and more specifically on his father Simon. The date of the composition of the original Hebrew text of 1 Maccabees is therefore not entirely clear, although it seems likely that this book was written during the high priesthood of Hyrcanus. As Uriel Rappaport observes, it may be significant that the last two verses of the Book (1 Macc 16:23–24) only echo part of a formula which is used in the context of the death of a ruler, in the Book of Kings.13 Rappaport argues that, whereas in the Book of Kings this formula provides information on four key aspects of the reign of a monarch (the chronicles of his reign, its length, the funeral of the king, and the name of his successor), the final verses of 1 Maccabees only mention the first of these elements, and that this probably means that John Hyrcanus was not dead at the time of the book’s redaction.14

the Nations Roundabout: 1 Maccabees and the Hasmonean Expansion,” JJS 42/1 (1991):16–38. According to Momigliano the author uses prolepsis in 16:23–24 for the benefit of future readers. Bezalel Bar-Kochva (Judas Maccabeus, 162–164) and Eyal Regev (The Hasmoneans: Ideology, Archaeology, Identity [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013], 26) also believe the book was written at the start of Hyrcanus’ high priesthood. However, Uriel Rappaport dates it to a period between 125 and 115 B.C.E., and in any case before the death of John Hyrcanus (The First Book of Maccabees, 60–61). 12 See Part II, § 2.1. 13 See for example 1 Kgs 11:41–43; 1 Kgs 14:19–20; 2 Kgs 10:34–36. 14 See Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 60–61; I. Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy of John Hyrcanus and his Relations with Rome,” in Iudaea socia–Iudaea capta. Atti del convegno internazionale Cividale del Friuli, 22–24 settembre 2011 (ed. G. Urso; Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2012), 29–77 (see p. 45).

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Commentators rarely discuss the date of the book’s Greek translation. It seems likely that the translation was carried out in Judea at the instigation of the Hasmonean leadership, shortly after the completion of the Hebrew original. The book was probably translated into Greek in order to promote the image of the Hasmonean dynasty in diasporic Jewish communities, possibly especially in Egypt, where another Jewish temple had been erected by Onias IV in Leontopolis. My discussion of the dating of 1 Maccabees has up until now been based on the assumption that it was written all at once. However, if this book was not in fact written at one go, its different sections, or stages of composition, can be dated to different periods. Although most commentators argue that this book was written in one fell swoop, it seems worth looking at those of its features which may suggest otherwise. Firstly, the first two chapters of 1 Maccabees, and the entire section ending with the death of Judas (1 Macc 9:22), rely much more heavily on biblical models than the rest of the book (see infra, § 3.2). However, this may be the result of a desire to confer a “biblical” aura on the founding figures of the dynasty, Mattathias and (more especially) Judas, who was probably the real hero of the Judean revolt against the Seleucids. There are also too many parallels between these chapters and those devoted to Jonathan and Simon, to make it possible to contrast them on a narrative level.15 More seriously, perhaps, the question of whether or not the closing chapters of the First Book of Maccabees were originally part of the work has been a subject of debate since the nineteenth century. One of the reasons for these doubts is that Josephus no longer seems to use this book as a source after 1 Macc 13:42. This has led some scholars to conclude that he worked from a shorter version of the book.16 However, there is no conclusive evidence of this.17 It seems that Josephus was in fact familiar with the book as a whole, even though he did not use its closing chapters in his own work.18 Nevertheless, it does seem possible that 1 Maccabees was written in several stages. Thus, David Williams draws a distinction between 1 Macc 1:1–14:15, which he dates to circa 130 B.C.E., and the third section of the book (1 Macc 14:16–16:24) which he dates to circa 100 B.C.E., on the grounds that their tone towards the nations surrounding Judea and the enemies of Israel dif15 See in particular I.5, infra. See also Sylvie Honigman’s analysis in Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 160–177 (concerning Simon). 16 This thesis was first developed by J. Destinon, Die Quellen des Flavius Josephus (Kiel: Lipsius, 1882), 85–86. See also G. Hölscher, Die Quellen des Josephus: Für die Zeit vom Exil bis zum jüdischen Kriege (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1904), 9–10; J. Wellhausen, Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1921), 257, n.1; S. Zeitlin, The First Book of Maccabees (New York: Harper, 1950), 32. 17 See Schunck, Historische und legendarische Erzählungen. 1. Makkabäerbuch, 290–291. 18 For more details on the reasons why Josephus was probably familiar with 1 Macc 15, see section 6 of this part of the book.

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fers so much that their historical context must have differed. He observes that if the whole book was translated into Greek by the same translator, this is likely to mean that the last section of 1 Maccabees was written in Hebrew before the book was translated. Considering the overall coherence of the book, he also believes that the author of the third part was either the same person or someone close to him, such as a student.19 According to Williams, the addition of the third part may have been motivated by the need to bolster the legitimacy of the hereditary transmission of the high priesthood from Simon to Alexander Jannaeus, via John Hyrcanus. Indeed, in the third part, John Hyrcanus is presented as the legitimate successor not only of his father Simon, but of Judas himself;20 moreover, the popular decree making Simon ethnarch and high priest in perpetuity (14:41) implies that his descendants should inherit the high priesthood. Contrary to Williams, however, Arie van der Kooij thinks that this popular decree (in chapter 14) dates back to circa 140 B.C.E., and is older than the book itself, which he dates to the early days of the reign of Alexander Jannaeus, circa 100 B.C.E.21 Moreover, some of the passages in the thirteen first chapters of the book seem to have been revised. Thus, Daniel Schwartz has noticed that 1 Macc 2:65–68 was re-written in order to emphasize the role played by Simon.22 It is therefore not possible to exclude the possibility that the Hebrew original may have been written in several stages. However, these different stages of composition were probably not separated by very long periods of time, because the overall structure of the book is very coherent. In chapter 14, for example, the theme of the Judean alliance with Rome and friendship with Sparta is repeated (v. 16–24). Similarly, the narrator’s account of the other deeds performed by John Hyrcanus includes an allusion to his erection of new structures (cf. “the building of the walls which he built” [16:23]), an activity which was common to all the Hasmoneans, endowing the “dynasty” with a certain unity. Certainly, the book as we know it today is a coherent and carefully planned work. Moreover, the coherence of the translation suggests that the translator had access to the sixteen chapters overall, even if small additions may have been made here and there.23 19 The Structure of 1 Maccabees, 122, 126–127. Williams’ analysis is indebted to, but departs from, H. W. Ettelson, “The Integrity of 1 Maccabees,” Transactions of the Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences 27 (1925): 249–384. 20 See in particular the parallels between 9:22 and 16:23–24. 21 A. van der Kooij, “The Claim of Maccabean Leadership and the Use of Scripture,” in Jewish Identity and Politics between the Maccabees and Bar Kokhba: Groups, Normativity, and Rituals (ed. B. Eckhardt; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 29–49; see p. 42. 22 D. R. Schwartz, “Mattathias’ Final Speech (1 Maccabees 2): From Religious Zeal to Simonide Propaganda,” in “Go Out and Study the Land” (Judges 18:2): Archaeological, Historical and Textual Studies in Honor of Hanan Eshel (ed. A. M. Maeir et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 213–223. 23 See Ettelson, “The Integrity of I Maccabees,” 307; Williams, The Structure of 1 Maccabees, 116.

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1.3 Parallel accounts: The Second Book of Maccabees and the work of Josephus 1.3.1 The Second Book of Maccabees

The Second Book of Maccabees covers a period stretching from the end of the reign of Seleukos IV Philopator, at the time of the high priesthood of Onias III, to the “persecution” of the Judeans under the rule of Antiochus Epiphanes24 and the victory of Judas against Nicanor (2 Macc 14–15). In other words, it spans over roughly fifteen years and ends no later than 160 B.C.E. (the death of Judas is not mentioned). The narrative is prefaced with a prologue explaining that the book is an abridged version of a five-volume work by a certain Jason of Cyrene (2:19–32), and that the two letters which precede the main text were addressed to the Jews of Egypt by the Jews of Judea. The second of these letters (2 Macc 1:10) is fictitiously25 dated to 164 B.C.E. The majority of scholars – in general agreement with a thesis first presented by Elias Bickerman – date the first letter (1:1–9) to the year 188 of the Seleucid era, i. e. 124/3 B.C.E. according to the Babylonian Seleucid calendar.26 It has also been suggested that this letter quotes an earlier missive, dating back to the year 169 of the Seleucid era, i. e. 143/2 B.C.E. (2 Macc 1:7–8).27 However, D ­ aniel Schwartz has departed from this well-established consensus, in order to propose a different interpretation of the first letter. Observing that the year 124 B.C.E. is devoid of historical signification, he suggests that the one hundred sixty-ninth year of the Seleucid era mentioned in v. 7 may have been the date when this letter was written.28 Schwartz adds that since Judea regained its independence (or Simon rose to power) around 143/2 B.C.E., it makes sense to think that at that time, the Judeans decided to write to the Jews of Egypt about the festival commemorating

24 It might be more accurate to speak of the “repressive” or “retaliatory” measures that Antiochus took in response to what he perceived to be a rebellion. For bibliographical references, see footnote 3 in the introduction. 25 However, Ben Zion Wacholder argues in favour of the authenticity of this letter and its date in “The Letter from Judah Maccabee to Aristobulus: Is 2 Maccabees 1:10b–2:18 Authentic?” HUCA 49 (1978): 89–133. 26 V. 9–10: “And now (we have written you) so that you shall celebrate the days of (the festival of) Tabernacles of the month of Kislev of the year 148” (2 Maccabees [trans. D. R. Schwartz; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008], 129). Based on the indications provided in some manuscripts, Daniel Schwartz dates it to 148 B.C.E., as opposed to 188 B.C.E., which, according to the Seleucid Baby­ lonian calendar, tallies with the year 124/3 BCE. 27 See E. Bickerman, “Ein jüdischer Festbrief vom Jahre 124 v. Chr. (2 Macc 1:1–9),” ZNW 32 (1933): 233–254. 28 Schwartz suggests translating the use of the perfect γεγράφαμεν with a kind of present continuous: “In the one hundred sixty-ninth year, we Jews are writing this to you”.

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the rededication of the temple.29 He also proposes that the one hundred eightyeighth year mentioned in v. 9 should be understood as the year 148 of the Seleucid era (i. e. 164 B.C.E.),30 i. e. as a reference to the festival itself (denoted by the year of the purification of the temple). Although this thesis is based on a variant only found in two manuscripts, it does have the merit of setting the first letter in a coherent historical context. The two letters, whose exact relationship to the narrative of the epitomator is still an object of debate,31 describe the Jews of Judea inviting diasporic Jews to commemorate Judas Maccabeus’ dedication of the temple. The second letter also seems to suggest that the Judeans entertained the hope that diasporic Jews might make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem (to the “sacred precinct,” i. e. the sanctuary). However, this does not allow us to infer that the epitome itself was written in Jerusalem: there are a few differences between the epitome and the letters, suggesting that they were written independently of each other.32 29 In reality, the independence of the Judeans is dated to the year 170 in 1 Macc 13:41, i. e. the year 143/2 B.C.E. in the Seleucid Macedonian calendar, or 142/1 B.C.E. in the Seleucid Babylonian calendar. See Daniel R. Schwartz, “The Jews of Egypt between the Temple of Onias, the Temple of Jerusalem and Heaven,” Zion 62/1 (1997): 5–22, esp. 20 (Heb.). 30 He bases this argument on two manuscripts (Nos 62 and 55), which are usually disregarded by editors (see R. Hanhart, Maccabaeorum liber II [Göttingen: Vandenhœk & Ruprecht, 1959], 48). See D. R. Schwartz, “Concerning the Main Historiographical Sources on the Hasmonean Revolt and State,” in The Days of the Hasmonean Dynasty (D. Amit and H. Eschel, ed.; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben Zvi, 1995) 133–146; esp. 140 (Heb.); and also his commentary, 2 Maccabees (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), 11–12 and 519–529 (Appendix 1, on the letters included in chapters 1 and 2). 31 According to Arnaldo Momigliano, the most straightforward explanation is that the summary was written to accompany the first letter (“Il secondo libro dei Maccabei,” in Pagine ebraiche [Torino: Giulio Einaudi, 1987], 41–51; see 43–44); C. Habicht concurs in 2. Makkabäerbuch (Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1976), 174. See also Jan Willem van Henten’s examination of the relationship between the letters and the epitome in The Maccabean Martyrs as Saviours of the Jewish People. A Study of 2 and 4 Maccabees (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 37–50; van Henten seems to consider that the epitome predates the letters, which it was meant to accompany in order to justify the request to commemorate the rededication of the temple and the resumption of the performance of religious rituals. For Daniel Schwartz, the author of the two letters also interpolated the epitome, which was an earlier document (2 Maccabees, 528–529). Robert M. Doran also argues that the epitome predates the letters in Temple Propaganda: The Purpose and Character of 2 Maccabees (Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1981), 3–12. See also M. Himmelfarb, “Judaism and Hellenism in 2 Maccabees,” Poetics Today 19/1 (1998): 22–23. In a recent commentary, Doran points out the contradictions between the epitome and letters, but leaves open the question of how these documents came to be associated. See Doran, 2 Maccabees: A Critical Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), 1–3. 32 In particular, on the subject of the death of Antiochus IV. These documents also emphasize different festivals: 2 Maccabees ends on the celebration of the thirteenth day of the month of Adar, which it connects with Purim (15:36); in contrast, the first letter emphasizes the celebration of the festival of the dedication in the month of Kislev; see Arnaldo Momigliano, “Il secondo libro dei Maccabei,” 42. This observation leads Daniel Schwartz to suggest that 10:1–8, the passage describing the purification of the temple and the celebrations that followed, was added by the person who integrated the epitome and the letters in the same document (and indeed, it is possible to think that v. 9:29 was followed by v. 10:9). If so, the principal thematic link between

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The narrative presented in 2 Maccabees is based for the most part on the work of Jason of Cyrene, who was probably a Jew of the Cyrenaic diaspora, unless he was a Judean who spent a long period of time in Cyrene. Either way, the text of 2 Maccabees suggests that its author was abreast of developments in Judea, suggesting that Jason (or one of his disciples) had spent at least some time there. Although the epitomator (as well as Jason himself, probably) was clearly fluent in Greek and very familiar with the Hellenistic culture, this does not mean that he was not a Judean Jew.33 However, according to the authors of some of the more recent commentaries on 2 Maccabees, some of the characteristics of this book suggest that its author came from a diasporic community.34 Robert Doran, for example, considers that the author’s emphasis on the issues of paideia and gymnasium, indicates that he had a diasporic background.35 He argues that the Judeans subsequently used Jason’s text to encourage Egyptian Jews to celebrate the festival commemorating the rededication of the Jerusalem temple. In any case, according to Daniel Schwartz, the epitome predates the letters, which were a later addition. This means, if we agree with this argument, that the Second Book of Maccabees as we know it today was

the epitome and the letters disappears (see “Concerning the Main Historiographical Sources on the Hasmonean Revolt and the Hasmonean State,” 136–137). Robert Doran points out that the second letter includes several Semitisms, unlike the epitome (Temple Propaganda, 10). How­ever, Jan Willem van Henten argues that the letters and the epitome form a coherent and unified whole (The Maccabean Martyrs as Saviours, 44–45). 33 Martin Hengel thinks that Jason may have been a diasporic Jew who was educated in Alexandria but spent a certain amount of time in Jerusalem, gathering information. Indeed, he suggests that he may also have written the epitome there, but does not elaborate (Judaism and Hellenism [trans. J. Bowden; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974], 1:95–98; see 96). Several scholars favour the notion that the author of 2 Maccabees had a Judean background. See Doran, Temple Propaganda, 112–113 (although he changed his mind in 2 Maccabees, 16–17); J. M. G. Barclay, Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan 323 B.C.E.–117 C.E.) (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 12; J. W. van Henten, The Maccabean Martyrs, 50; L. I. Levine, Judaism and Hellenism in Antiquity: Conflict or Confluence? (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1998), 79; Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 8–9. 34 However, Sylvie Honigman argues that the author of 2 Maccabees was likely to have Judean origins, on the grounds that this book and 1 Maccabees present a very coherent perspective of the legitimation of the Hasmonean dynasty as dependent on the rededication of the temple. See Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 89, 65–94, 184–185. 35 Doran, 2 Maccabees, 16–17. See also Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, XXXV; Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 45–51; M. Zeiger Simkovich, “Greek Influence on the Composition of 2 Maccabees,” JSJ 42/3 (2011): 293–310; Regev, The Hasmoneans, 84–89. A. Lefèvre argues that the epitome was writen in Egypt; see “Maccabées (livres I et II),” SDB 5 (Paris: Letouzey, 1957), col. 605.

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probably composed before 143/2 B.C.E.,36 i. e. before Judea acquired independence under Simon, and therefore a long time before 1 Maccabees was written.37 The book as we know it today promotes two festivals: the Dedication (Hanukkah) and the Day of Nicanor, which respectively celebrate the rededication of the temple and the rescue of the temple and city.38 As a matter of fact, the epitome essentially focuses on the fate of the temple and the surrounding city,39 during a 36 Indeed, the fact that the author of the work supported the Oniads and passes Jonathan’s accession to the high priesthood under silence leads Daniel Schwartz to suggest a date earlier than 152 B.C.E. (2 Maccabees, 12–14). However, the author’s relative lack of sympathy for Jonathan and Simon also makes it possible to think that he was a supporter of the Oniads and a follower of Judas writing after 152; he may also have supported Onias III, but not his descendants. 37 2 Maccabees is traditionally dated to the years 124 to 63 B.C.E., with a preference for a date before 100 B.C.E. However, as Arnaldo Momigliano points out, the fact that the Romans are described as distant “friends” in that book means that it must have been written before 63 B.C.E. (“Il secondo libro dei Maccabei,” 44). It is thus not possible to date it to 60 B.C.E., as suggested by Bickerman (“Ein jüdischer Festbrief vom Jahre 124 v. Chr. (II Macc 1:1–9),” 239–241). Abel (Les Livres des Maccabées, XLII–XLIII) dates it to 124 B.C.E., as do Momigliano, and, following in his footsteps, Habicht (see supra) and Jan Willem van Henten (who is inclined to date 2 Maccabees to the very early years of the period 124–63 B.C.E.; see The Maccabean Martyrs, 51–53). Bartlett provides a very wide range of possible dates (160–10 B.C.E.) in The First and Second Books of the Maccabees (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), 215. The range of dates proposed by Jonathan A. Goldstein (78–63 B.C.E.) reflects his reading of Jason’s work as a polemical response to 1 Maccabees, a rather faulty argument (see II Maccabees [New York: Doubleday, 1983], 71–83). Solomon Zeitlin argues in favour of dating 2 Maccabees to the reign of Caligula, but this rather fanciful theory remains isolated (see The Second Book of Maccabees [New York: Harper and Brothers, 1954], 27–28). Robert Doran does not suggest a particular date. However, he seems to agree with Daniel Schwartz’s thesis on 2 Macc 4:11, a passage which alludes to the embassy of Eupolemus in Rome, suggesting that the book dates from the years 150–140 B.C.E. (2 Maccabees, 15). Indeed, Schwartz judiciously observes that the author of 2 Maccabees does not seem to be aware of the diplomatic missions that followed, under Jonathan and Simon (2 Maccabees, 14). 38 Benedikt Niese made this point in Kritik der beiden Makkabäerbücher, nebst Beiträgen zur Geschichte der makkabäischen Erhebung (Berlin: Weidmann, 1900), 12; he also emphasized the connection established from as early as 2 Macc 1:18 between the Hanukkah lights and the fire in the Book of Nehemiah. According to Daniel Schwartz, this is because the book was composed in different stages: v. 10:1–8, which describe the purification of the temple, were added to the epitome, which focuses on the celebration of the Day of Nicanor; the letters which come before the epitome were then added to this new version of the text. He attributes these changes to Judeans from Jerusalem (2 Maccabees 10). Moreover, Schwartz considers that the real subject of the book (in its original version) was the city of Jerusalem, rather than the temple (ibid., 6–7). 39 Philippe Abadie observes that 2 Maccabees “se présente comme une histoire du temple, puisque tous les acteurs, des profanateurs comme Héliodore aux héros comme Judas Maccabée, s’y rapportent” (“Le Premier Livre des Maccabées: une écriture entre mémoire et relecture,” in La mémoire des persécutions: Autour des livres des Maccabées [M.-F. Baslez and O. Munnich, ed.; Leuven: Peeters, 2014], 155–164). As for Robert Doran, he already spoke of “Temple Propaganda” in his first book. See also Regev, The Hasmoneans, 84–89. Although, as Daniel Schwartz points out, there also also several references to the city in the book, as opposed to the temple alone (2 Maccabees, p. 6–7), Jerusalem nevertheless derives its status from the fact that the temple is located within its walls.

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crisis that began with Heliodorus’ aborted attempt to steal the riches deposited inside the sanctuary (chap. 3), followed by an account of Jason’s attempt, during his high priesthood, to introduce Hellenistic institutions, such as a gymnasium, in Jerusalem. It ends on the attempted attack of Jerusalem by the Seleucid general Nicanor and his defeat at the hands of Judas, who is the only genuine hero of this book, alongside the martyrs.40 As in 1 Maccabees, the decision to purify the temple confers great prestige and even royal legitimacy onto Judas.41 However, 2 Maccabees differs from 1 Maccabees in a number of ways. In particular, it is not clear whether this book seeks to promote the Hasmonean dynasty. The zealous ideology of 1 Maccabees is absent from 2 Maccabees, insofar as it does not so much emphasize the eradication of impious Jews as the capacity of various martyrs to die for the Law (chap. 6–7). It is the death of the martyrs that is expiatory and propitiatory, rather than the acts of violence performed by Mattathias (and passed under silence in the text) or his sons. Indeed, to a large extent, Judas’ military successes and the liberation of the Judean people appear to be the result of the sacrificial deaths of the martyrs.42 The order of the chapters highlights the role of the martyrs in the victorious campaign waged by Judas and his men, either by establishing an implicit connection between the supplications of the victims of persecution and the arrival of Judas, or through revealing details, such as when the warriors share their plunder with the victims of torture, widows, and orphans (2 Macc 8:30). Moreover, although the account of the armed struggle is placed in parallel with the accounts of the martyrs in 2 Maccabees, the emphasis of this

40 Compare 2 Macc 3:1, at the beginning of the narrative, with its conclusion (15:37). See Daniel R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 3–4, on the transition from Jason and the beginning of the narrative, to the wider aims of the book. 41 On the rededication of the temple and its political implications, see Sylvie Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, chapters 2 and 4. It is nevertheless interesting to observe that, contrary to his brothers, Judas becomes neither a high priest nor the Judean ethnarch, but remains a military leader. Moreover, if 2 Macc 10:1–8 is in fact an interpolation, as Daniel R. Schwartz suggests, then this rather challenges Sylvie Honigman’s interpretation, although it does not mean that the Second Book of Maccabees is hostile to Judas (a heroic figure in that work). On the notion that 2 Macc 10:1–8 is an interpolation, see also Étienne Nodet, “Les Maccabées et la guerre – Réécritures,” in Guerre juste, Juste guerre. Les justifications de la guerre religieuses et profanes de l­’Antiquité au XXIe siècle (ed. M.-F. Baslez et al.; Créteil: Université de Paris EstCréteil–Editions Bière, 2013), 35–51 (see 50–51). 42 I develop this argument in “L’idéologie maccabéenne entre idéologie de la résistance armée et idéologie du martyre,” REJ 165/1–2 (2006): 99–122. Elias Bickerman had already written before me that “The turn in the events is brought by the blood of the martyrs”; see The God of the Maccabees. Studies on the Meaning and Origin of the Maccabean Revolt (trans. H. R. Moehring; Leiden: Brill, 1979 [German orig. 1937]), 22. William H. Brownlee goes as far as considering that the martyrs waged a holy war; see “From Holy War to Holy Martyrdom,” in The Quest for the Kingdom of God: Studies in Honor of George E. Mendenhall (ed. H. B. Huffmon et al.; ­Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1983), 281–292 (esp. 287).

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book is (unlike in 1 Maccabees) on divine interventions and miracles, and on the celestial apparitions that provided the combatants with help and encouragement.43 It is also interesting to note that Judas’ brothers are seldom mentioned:44 as well as making few references to Simon and Jonathan, the text also has very little to say about Joseph and Eleazar, and in fact these comments do not necessarily cast them in a positive light (2 Macc 8:22–23; 10:19). During the Judean blockade of Idumean fortresses, some of Simon’s men give in to bribery, allowing some of the besieged to escape: significantly, the author makes it clear that these men were under Simon’s command (10:20). Another passage – 2 Macc 14:17 – relates Simon’s momentary defeat at the hands of Nicanor.45 Indeed, Judas himself arguably comes under implicit criticism, in light of the conception of fidelity to the Law promoted in the book. The author, who regularly calls for the observance of the Sabbath, omits to mention that Mattathias and his sons decided to fight on the holy day (1 Macc 2:41), and asserts on the contrary that Judas respected this prohibition (2 Macc 8:25–28). Although 2 Maccabees clearly draws a glowing portrait of Judas, this book promotes a very different ideology than 1 Maccabees, and indeed could hardly be described as a work of Hasmonean propaganda.46

43 See 2 Macc 3 (Heliodorus in the Jerusalem temple); 10:29–30 (five heavenly horsemen appear all around Judas); 11:8 (apparition in heaven of a horseman clothed in white); 15:12–16 (­Jeremiah and Onias encourage Judas in a dream). Félix-Marie Abel suggests rather reductively that this indicates that the author belonged to “l’école pharisienne” (Les livres des Maccabées, XXXIV). 44 In 2 Macc 5:27 and 8:1 – i. e. the first two mentions of Judas in the body of the text – the text refers to Judas and “those who were with him” (οἱ σὺν αὐτῷ), without going into any more detail. Elsewhere, the text speaks of “those in the entourage of the Maccabee” (οἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν Μακκαβαῖον) and their numbers clearly indicate that these were his supporters, and not merely his brothers (see 10:33 and 35). 45 Although Eyal Regev estimates that “the admiration of Judah implies that the subsequent struggle of his brothers for the very same aims would have been favorably seen as well” (The Hasmoneans, 27), this is far from clear. Unlike Jonathan and Simon, Judas was not named high priest and strategos by the Seleucids. It is possible to think that Judas and his brothers may have been perceived differently and that the author of 2 Maccabees held Judas in high esteem, but did not go on to support his brothers. However, it is not possible to say that 2 Maccabees is “anti-Hasmonean.” 46 Pace Sylvie Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes. Beyond the various elements I have already mentioned, 2 Maccabees also brushes a much more discriminating and nuanced portrait of both local and distant non-Jewish communities; see D. R. Schwartz, “The Other in 1 and 2 Maccabees,” in Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity (G. N. Stanton and G. G. Stroumsa, ed.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 30–37. This is how Robert Doran sums up the book: “It is a highly rhetorical narrative that sets out not to give a blow-by-blow description of events but to move its audience to commit to faithfully following the ancestral traditions of Judaism.” According to him, the objectives of the author are twofold: “he seeks to engage his audience in maintaining their ancestral traditions, and, at the same time, he insists that Jews can live in peace with local Gentile communities and with an imperial power” (2 Maccabees, 1 and 14).

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1.3.2 The Judean (or Jewish) War and Jewish Antiquities by Flavius Josephus47 In the Judean War, Flavius Josephus only provides his readers with a cursory overview of the history of the Hasmonean dynasty, and only §§ 32 to 56 of Book one tally with the events described in 1 Maccabees. In contrast, in Jewish Antiquities, Josephus’ account of the Maccabean period follows the narrative of 1 Maccabees more closely. Josephus probably read 1 Maccabees in Greek, although he may also have had access to a version of the text in Hebrew.48 Although he stays fairly faithful to this source, Josephus does not follow it blindly. In fact, Josephus also had access to other sources. Thus, § 31 of Book 1 of the Judean War, a section which refers to Onias and to the struggle for power within the ranks of the priesthood, seems to be loosely based on 2 Maccabees, or on another source describing the same events.49 Certainly, as a Judean and a member of the sacerdotal aristocracy, it seems likely that Josephus would have had access to Judean sources that have since been lost. There are a few contradictions between the summary that Josephus provides in the Judean War and his version of the same events in Jewish Antiquities, and 47 On the reasons why the translations “Judean War” and “Jewish Antiquities” should be privileged, see Daniel R. Schwartz, Judeans and Jews: Four Faces of Dichotomy, 61. 48 On 1 Maccabees as Josephus’ source, see C. L. W. Grimm, Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, XXVII–XXX; H. Bloch, Die Quellen des Flavius Josephus in seiner Archäologie (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1879), 80–90 (a comparison of the language in 1 Maccabees and Antiquities leads Bloch to show that various formulations are the same in both); J. von Destinon, Die Quellen des Flavius Josephus, 60–80 (he is more inclined to think that Josephus and the author of 1 Maccabees based their work on the same source); H. Drüner, Untersuchungen über Josephus (Marburg: n. p., 1896), 35–50; A. Momigliano, Prime linee di storia della tradizione maccabaica, 18–48; E. Z. Melamed, “Josephus and I Maccabees: A Comparison,” Eretz-Israel 1 (1951): 122–130 (Heb.); J. A. Goldstein, I Maccabees, 55–61 and 558–574; G. Fuks, “Josephus and the Hasmoneans,” JJS 41/2 (1990): 166–176; I. M. Gafni, “Josephus and 1 Maccabees,” in Josephus, The Bible, and History (ed. L. H. Feldman; Leiden: Brill, 1989), 116–131; B. Bar-Kokhva, “On Josephus and the Books of the Maccabees: Philology and Historiography,” Tarbiz 62/1 (1992): 115–132 (Heb.); L. H. Feldman, “Josephus’ Portrayal of the Hasmoneans Compared with 1 Maccabees,” in Josephus and the History of the Greco-Roman Period (F. Parente and J. Sievers, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 41–68. It is widely agreed that Josephus used the Greek version of 1 Maccabees. However, Étienne Nodet begs to differ in La crise maccabéenne. Historiographie juive et traditions bibliques (Paris: Cerf, 2005), 407–431. Similarly, E. Z. Melamed argued before him that Josephus read the text in both the Greek and the Hebrew. 49 See also Ant. 12.254–256, a passage recalling the episode of torture described in 2 Macc 7. A. Büchler draws attention to the possible use of 2 Maccabees by Josephus in “Les sources de Flavius Josèphe dans ses Antiquités (XII, 5–XIII, 1),” REJ 32 (1896): 179–199 and REJ 34 (1897): 69–93. According to Jonathan Goldstein, “the modifications show conclusively that he [Josephus] had at his disposal the content of Second Maccabees and possibly the complete work of Jason of Cyrene” (I Maccabees, 56). However, the general consensus tends to be that Josephus did not have any knowledge of 2 Maccabees, because the parallels between the texts are not close enough; see C. L. W. Grimm, Das zweite, dritte und vierte Buch der Maccabäer (Leipzig: S. Hirzel Verlag, 1857), 13 and 20–21; Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 86–87.

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these inconsistencies are especially striking when he writes about the period that followed the years covered in 1 Maccabees (I shall return to this in Part II). His summary in the Judean War also includes various factual errors. Thus, for example, in 1.35, Josephus suggests that Bacchides was the general responsible for laying ruin to Jerusalem, before the Maccabean revolt had even begun (according to 1 Macc 7:8, Bacchides only intervened in 161 B.C.E).50 I have already mentioned the problems associated with the fact that the version of the First book of Maccabees that Josephus used in his own work may not have included chapters 14 to 16. However, Josephus does seem to have been familiar with the contents of these chapters, for example the territorial conflict between Antiochus VII and Simon in chapter 15.51 If he stopped privileging 1 Maccabees, it was probably because he had access to other sources.52 Indeed, several scholars have suggested that Josephus used sources hostile to the Hasmoneans (in particular, Nicolaus of Damascus, who had pledged alliance to Herod). However, this claim deserves closer scrutiny, as we shall see in part II, in connection with Josephus’ treatment of the Hasmoneans from John Hyrcanus onwards. I shall merely observe, in the context of this discussion on Josephus’ use of 1 Maccabees, that he was himself descended from the Hasmoneans through his mother, a fact he states with pride at the start of his autobiography.53 Some scholars have observed that Josephus’ treatment of the Hasmoneans – in his portraits of Mattathias, Judas, Jonathan, and Simon – is the same as when he describes the characters of the Hebrew Bible.54 His account of Judas is particularly laudatory,

50 For a complete list of Josephus’ errors in the Judean War, see Goldstein, I Maccabees, 60. This leads him to conclude that Josephus worked from memory and did not have the books at hand at the time of writing. 51 See section I.6 (infra). 52 See what Ralph Marcus observed already in the edition of the Loeb Classical Library: “Here, with 1 Macc 13:42, ends Josephus’ paraphrase (though not necessarily his use) of the apocryphal book, although it contains three and a half more chapters on the rule of Simon. For this and the following period Josephus relies on Hellenistic sources (chiefly Nicolas of Damascus), which he had earlier used for his account of the later Hasmonean and Herodian periods in his Judean war. Various explanations have been given of Josephus’ decision to ignore 1 Macc from then on: some scholars hold that the last three and a half chapters of 1 Macc were a late addition, not known to Josephus … It is more likely that Josephus found it more convenient to use only his Hellenistic sources for Simon’s period than to continue excerpting from them to fill out the narrative of 1 Macc” (Jewish Antiquities XII–XIV, LCL, 334–335, note d). Louis H. Feldman also estimates that this addition was the work of Nicolaus of Damascus, whom Josephus must have viewed as a more reliable source; for a list of the other reasons that might explain why Josephus stops using 1 Maccabees as a source, see Feldman, Josephus and Modern Scholarship (1937–1980) (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1984), 223. See also Williams, The Structure of 1 Maccabees, 122–123, n. 21. 53 Life 2; see also Ant. 16.187. 54 See S. J. D. Cohen, Josephus in Galilee and Rome: His Vita and Development as a Historian (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 44, n. 77; Feldman, “Josephus’ Portrayal of the Hasmoneans,” 66–67.

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even compared with Judas’ portrait in 1 Maccabees.55 Indeed, Josephus portrays Judas as a high priest on several occasions in Jewish Antiquities (12.414, 419 and 434), which is at odds not just with 1 Maccabees, but also with his own narrative in Book 20 of Antiquities (§§ 237–238), which refers to the seven-year gap between the high priesthoods of Alcimus and Jonathan, who is presented as the first Hasmonean to take on this responsibility.56 Overall, Josephus brushes a glowing portrait of the Hasmoneans,57 despite his severe criticism of Alexander Jannaeus, and his scathing comments on the rivalry between Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, which, according to him, was largely responsible for the Judeans’ loss of sovereignty in 63 B.C.E. At this stage in our analysis, the two key conclusions that we can draw from this are that 1) a priori, any discrepancies between the version of events in Josephus’ work and 1 Maccabees must reflect the perspective of Josephus, and 2) this perspective was globally favourable to the Hasmoneans.

2. The land: an objective conspicuous by its absence One of my key guiding principles in this book is to take the texts seriously, both when they explicitly say something and when they do not, and not to underestimate their rhetorical and literary dimensions. Although it is difficult to use an argument ex silentio, it remains the case that silence can speak volumes, especially when other, often contemporaneous, sources explicitly touch on the issue passed under silence in the work at hand.58

2.1 The conspicuous absence of the issue of the land of Israel from The First Book of Maccabees Nowhere in 1 Maccabees is the land listed as one of the causes for the Maccabean revolt or the policy that Jonathan and Simon followed after the rededication of the

55 See Cohen, ibid., 46–47. 56 However, certain rabbinic sources do convey the perception that all the Hasmonean leaders were high priests, including Mattathias; see for example b. Megillah 11a. For Vasile Babota, the fact that Judas sent an embassy to Rome, which was usually done by the ruler of the nation, i. e. the high priest, explains Josephus’ confusion (see Babota, The Institution of the Hasmonean High Priesthood [Leiden: Brill, 2014], 105–118). 57 Already in J.W. 1.50, Josephus estimates that “Simon’s administration of affairs was excellent”. 58 See my comparison of the treatment of the figure of Joshua in Ben Sira and 1 Maccabees (Part I, section 3, infra).

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temple and the death of Judas.59 In fact, the phrase “land of Israel” (Eretz Israel or Ademat Israel)60 is absent from the book, although the words “Israel” and “sons of Israel” are frequently used to refer to the people.61 David Goodblatt has noticed the same phenomenon in the Book of Judith.62 In both Judith and 1 Maccabees, the people are called “Israel,” but their country (or land) is always referred to as Judea (’Ιουδαία63 or γῆ Ιουδα64). The phrase “Holy Land” does not occur either in 1 Maccabees. This expression already existed at the time, but was rarely used, 59 See section 6 of this part of the book (infra) for a discussion of 1 Macc 15:33–35, the only exception to this statement and a passage regularly cited by the partisans of the thesis of the reconquest of the promised land. 60 The phrase Eretz Israel occurs in 1 Sam 13:19; 2 Kgs 5:2.4; 6:23; Ezek 27:17; 40:2; 47:18; 1 Chr 22:2; 2 Chr 2:16; 30:25; 34:7; the plural aretzot Israel (“the territories of of Israel”) is also found in 1 Chr 13:2. For the words Ademat Israel, see Ezek 7:2; 11:17; 12:19.22; 13:9; 18:2; 20:38.42; 21:7–8; 25:3–6; 33:24; 36:6; 37:12; 38:18–19. It is worth remembering that the geographical area that these words refer to is not predetermined and must be defined on a case by case basis, depending on the context. In Ezek 27:17, the phrase “land of Israel” only refers to the northern territory of Israel, as opposed to the territory of Judah. On these issues, see E. Ben-Eliyahu, “From ‘Yehudah’ to ‘Israel’: Territory and National Identity,” Zion 75/2 (2010): 127–151 (Heb.); idem, Between Borders: The Boundaries of Eretz-Israel in the Consciousness of the Jewish People in the time of the Second Temple and in the Mishnah and Talmud Period (Jerusalem: Yad Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, 2013) (Heb.). 61 “Sons of Israel”: 1 Macc 3:15.41; 5:3; 7:9.13.23; 16:2. “Israel”: around 58 occurrences (see for example 1 Macc 4:11; 9:21; 11:41). Two verses are ambiguous: according to 1 Macc 2:46, Mattathias and his supporters enforced the circumcision on the uncircumcised that they found “within the borders [or: the territory] of Israel” (καὶ περιέτεμον τὰ παιδάρια τὰ ἀπερίτμητα, ὅσα εὗρον ἐν ὁρίοις Ισραηλ, ἐν ἰσχύι). Although “Israel” is of course the name of the people, the phrase ἐν ὁρίοις Ισραηλ could refer to the country. However, a comparison with 1 Macc 3:35–36 (where the word “Israel” is followed by mentions of their “place” and “land,” preceded by a plural possessive which can only designate the human community of Israel) suggests that “Israel” should be understood as the name of the people. The other passage to consider is 1 Macc 9:72–73: “(Bacchides) gave back to (Jonathan) the captives whom he had captured formerly from the land of Judea (ἐκ γῆς Ιουδα), and turning back he returned to his land and did not add to come again to their territory (εἰς τὰ ὅρια αὐτῶν). 73 And the sword ceased from Israel (και κατέπαυσεν ῥομφαία ἐξ Ισραηλ), and Jonathan lived in Machmas and began to judge the people and removed the impious from Israel” (trans. Zervos, NETS, 492). In the phrase “the sword ceased from Israel,” the word “Israel” could refer to the territory, especially in light of the references to place that come before and after. However, it may also refer to the people. Similarly, the words “(he) removed the impious from Israel” could refer to either the people or the territory. In fact, we should probably consider, after Daniel Schwartz, that “Israel” refers to the people dwelling on that land (Schwartz, “Judeans, Jews, and their Neighbors,” 21–22). In other words, for the author of 1 Maccabees, “Israel” primarily designated the people who lived in Judea. 62 D. Goodblatt, “‘The Israelites who Reside in Judah’ (Judith 4:1): On the Conflicted Identities of the Hasmonean State,” in Jewish Identities in Antiquity. Studies in Memory of Menahem Stern (L. I. Levine and D. R. Schwartz, ed.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 74–89 (the quotation is on p. 84). 63 Jdt 1:12; 3:9; 4:1.3.7.13; 8:21; 11:19; 1 Macc 3:34; 4:35; 5:8.18.23.60; 6:48.53; 7:24.46; 9:50.60.63; 10:38.45; 11:20.28.34; 12:35; 13:33; 14:33; 15:30.39–41; 16:10. 64 1 Macc 9:57.

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and its meaning needs to be established on a case by case basis.65 In Exod 3:5 – echoed in Josh 5:15 – all that is mentioned is the “ground” or the “place” where Moses stood during the theophany of the burning bush (‫אדמת קדש‬, LXX γῆ ἁγία). According to Moshe Weinfeld, the phrase ‫( אדמת הקדש‬LXX τὴν γῆν τὴν ἁγίαν) in Zech 2:16, refers to the territory of Jerusalem, i. e. its chōra.66 In the opening letter of 2 Maccabees, written by “the Jews in Jerusalem and in the country of Judea” to their “brothers, the Jews in Egypt,” in order to exhort the latter to commemorate the dedication of the new altar, the Judeans recall that Jason and his supporters betrayed the cause67 of the “Holy Land” (ἁγία γῆ) and the “kingdom” (βασιλεία)68 (2 Macc 1:1 and 7, my translation). In this case, the formulation used in v. 1 to describe the authors of the letter (οἱ ἐν Ιεροσολύμοις Ιουδαῖοι καὶ οἱ ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ τῆς Ιουδαίας) suggests that the “Holy Land” refers to Judea, understood as the chōra of Jerusalem.69 One might have expected a similar use of the phrase “Holy Land” in 1 Maccabees, but this is not the case. On several occasions, the exhortations and professions of faith that the author of 1 Maccabees attributes to the heroes of the book explicitly voice the objectives of their struggle, including the protection of their laws, people, and sanctuary. However, the land is never mentioned in this context. This is all the more surprising that the Seleucids probably confiscated parts of the land of Judea, in order to distribute parcels of land to the soldiers who settled in the Acra and in other Judean e

65 See R. Wilken, The Land Called Holy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), 24–25. 66 Weinfeld, The Promise of the Land, 203. 67 This is how A. Guillaumont – correctly, in my view – understands the verb ἀφίστημι ἀπὸ, which Daniel R. Schwartz understands as meaning “to rebel” (2 Maccabees, 129) and ­Robert Doran “to leave” (2 Maccabees, 30–31). See Guillaumont, “2 Maccabées,” in La Bible. Ancien Testament (Paris: Gallimard, 1956), 1:1654. 68 The term βασιλεία probably designates God’s dominion over Israel, which is made manifest, among other things, by the divinely-ordained laws that rule the people. See Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 141–142. However, Robert Doran considers, after Félix-Marie Abel and Jonathan A. Goldstein, that this word refers to the Seleucid kingdom that he believes Jason left behind (2 Maccabees, 31). Although it is true that in the Seleucid world, the word ἡ βασιλεία generally referred to the Seleucid kingdom (see E. Bickerman, Institutions des Séleucides [Paris: P. Geuthner, 1938], 3), the author of the letter may not necessarily have been constrained by Seleucid usages; however, this reading remains possible if we understand ἀφίστημι ἀπὸ to mean “to leave”. 69 See Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 135. This is what Robert Wilken writes about this passages: “In the letter to the Jews in Egypt the term holy land is not simply a description of a territory. To be sure, it designates the territory of Judea, that is to say, Jerusalem and its environs, but it presents Judea as a place toward which certain attitudes are appropriate (or inappropriate). Like the covenant, the idea of a holy land implies obligations and responsibilities” (The Land Called Holy, 26). The phrase “Holy Land” occurs in connection with the special relationship between God and the land of Israel in the Book of Wisdom (12:3, referring to the land of Canaan as a whole); Philo also uses this expression, under various guises, in connection with the land of ­Israel (Her. 293: τὴν ἱερὰν … γῆν; Somn. 1.127: ἡ ἱερὰ χώρα; Somn. 2.75: τῆς ἱερᾶς γῆς; Spec. 4.215: τὴν ἱερὰν χώραν; Legat. 202, 205, 330: ἡ ἱερὰ χώρα). In fact, the notion of “Holy Land” seems to have been more popular among diasporic communities than in Judea itself.

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fortresses.70 In 1 Macc 2:19–22, a passage describing the start of the Maccabean revolt, Mattathias thus exclaims: 19 […] If all the nations which are in the realm of the king obey him so as to apostatize, each one from their ancestral cult, and adopt his commandments, 20 both I and my sons and my brothers will walk in the covenant of our fathers. 21 God help us if we abandon the law and the statutes (καταλιπεῖν νόμον καὶ δικαιώματα); 22 we will not obey the words of the king nor deviate from our cult (τὴν λατρείαν ἡμῶν) to the right or to the left. (trans. Zervos, NETS, 482; with slight modifications)71

Later, following the massacre of the pious Judeans who refused to take up arms and defend themselves on the Sabbath, Mattathias and his supporters decide to take up arms on the Sabbath and fight “for our lives and for our statutes (ὑπὲρ τῆς ψυχῆς ἡμῶν καὶ τῶν δικαιωμάτων ἡμῶν)” (2:40). In other words, it is justified to revise the law which forbids going to war on the Sabbath, since this will allow the Jews to live according to the Law.72 These are Mattathias’ last words to his sons: “Be zealous in the law, and give your lives for the covenant of our fathers” (2:50). Before his last battle against the Seleucid general Bacchides, Judas declares himself ready to die for his “brothers,” i. e. his Judean compatriots (9:10). He does not mention any other motivation. Later, in a speech to the people, Simon says: 3 […] You yourselves know all that I and my brothers and the house of my father have done for the laws and the holy places (περὶ τῶν νόμων καὶ τῶν ἁγίων), and the wars and the hardships73 that we have seen. 4 For this reason all my brothers have perished for the sake of Israel, and I have been left alone. 5 And now far be it from me to preserve my life in any time of affliction (θλίψις), for I am not greater than my brothers. 6 But I will take vengeance for my nation and for the holy places and for your women and children (περὶ τοῦ ἔθνους μου καὶ περὶ τῶν ἁγίων καὶ περὶ τῶν γυναικῶν καὶ τέκνων ὑμῶν), for all the nations have gathered together to annihilate us out of enmity. (1 Macc 13:3–6; trans. Zervos, NETS, 498)

70 See infra for a discussion of 1 Macc 3:36, which reads: “to settle alien sons in all their regions and to parcel out their land by lot” (κατοικίσαι υἱοὺς ἀλλογενεῖς ἐν πᾶσιν τοῖς ὁρίοις αὐτῶν καὶ κατακληροδοτῆσαι τὴν γῆν αὐτῶν). 71 I have slightly modified this translation, translating λατρεία as “cult” instead of “religion”. 72 On the issue of fighting during the Sabbath, see Batsch, La guerre et les rites de guerre dans le judaïsme du deuxième Temple, 247–307. 73 The Greek word στενοχωρίαι is usually translated by “anguish”. Although the etymology of this word may imply the notion of a narrow strip of land, it is not possible to say that it is an allusion to Simon’s policy of territorial expansion. In the LXX, the meaning of this term is clearly figurative; it is regularly associated with θλίψις, especially in Deut 28:53–57, a passage enumerating the disasters awaiting the Israelites should they betray the covenant. The notion of narrowness should therefore be understood figuratively, as opposed to geographically. Compare with 1 Macc 2:53.

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According to 1 Maccabees, the Hasmonean wars were waged in the name of their fidelity to the covenant and the Law, and to save their people and preserve their sanctuary. Nowhere is the reconquest of the land mentioned. There are also no references to the land that was given to Abraham and his descendants, although this might have been mentioned in a prayer, for example. In 2 Chr 20:7, when the Moabites and the Ammonites attack the kingdom of Judah, king Jehoshaphat prays to God, reminding him of his erstwhile gift: “Did you not, O our God, drive out the inhabitants of the land before your people Israel, and give if forever to the descendants of your friend Abraham?” Not only is this gift never mentioned in 1 Maccabees, but there is no allusion in that work to the fact that the people of Israel were given their land by God. This argument in favour of the claim of the people to a divine right over their land never occurs in the book.74 Even those who favour the theory that the Hasmoneans sought to reconquer the promised land are forced to acknowledge the conspicuous absence of the theme of the land from 1 Maccabees. Thus, William D. Davies writes: It was the commandments of the Law, not the occupation of the Land, that concerned the dying Mattathias, who had initiated the revolt. … The absence of an appeal to the Land is striking because of the vividness of the awareness of the unity of the people of Israel in 1 Macc. It agrees with this that, when appeal is made to history, it is not to the promise to Abraham, but to the Exodus, the event that gave birth to the people. Later on, territorial considerations did enter the Maccabean movement, but these were motivated more by political ambition than by religious concern with the promise. (The Territorial Dimension of Judaism, 62–63)

We shall return later to the role that “political ambition” played in Hasmonean history. Let us simply observe here that William Davies’s analysis of the place of the land in the Maccabean revolt is rather hesitant. Indeed, it is self-contradictory: on page 46, he writes that “The revolt was the work of a small minority of enthusiasts for the Law and, implicitly, for the Land …” This implicit association demands to be substantiated. Moreover, Davies contradicts himself when he asserts on the one hand that “territorial considerations” were a later concern, and on the other that they “implicitly” motivated the initial Judean rebellion. In The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature, Doron Mendels also attempts to understand why the issue of the land is passed over in silence in 1 Maccabees. He begins by writing that “Whereas until 140 1 Maccabees never includes the Land as a declared goal of the war of the Hasmoneans (although it emphatically mentions the Torah, the People, and the Temple), from that year the Land is added as a goal of the war.” He substantiates this claim by quoting 1 Macc 15:33 – a passage that we shall examine in detail in section 6 of this first part of the book – before adding: 74 On this issue, see my discussion of 1 Macc 15:33–35 (Part I, section 6, infra).

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It should be emphasized that the two books of Maccabees never try to define or even discuss Palestine’s perimeter and political or ideal borders. The two books remain within the domain of describing power politics in Eretz Israel; the idea of the Land is not even found in the surprisingly few references to Israel’s past: the rescue of the people of Israel, rather than the conquest of Palestine, seems to be their main theme. (The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature, 47)

Paradoxically, this does not stop him from considering that, the “land” becomes an additional war objective in 1 Maccabees from 140 B.C.E., and that 2 Maccabees “shows from the beginning a strong sense of the Land as a goal of the Jewish revolt.”75 It is important to acknowledge the lack of any reference to the land in 1 Maccabees. The reasons for this absence of reference to the land become clear if we replace this book in the general context of the evolution of post-exilic Judaism, which Moshe Weinfeld, who has shed considerable light on this topic, summarizes as a “Shift from Land to City” (i. e. Jerusalem) in a lucid and powerful piece, which deserves to be quoted at length: After the fall of the kingdoms of Israel and Judea, the returning Israelites concentrated around the Temple and the city of Jerusalem. Due to the concentration, the religious and national emphasis, as reflected in Second Temple period sources, shifted from “the land” to “the city” and “the Temple.” National destruction is expressed not in terms of “loss of the land” or “exile” as in the First Temple period sources, but rather through the concept of the destruction of the Temple […] The usage of the word “Temple” (bayit) to refer to the entire nation originated in the Second Temple period, during which Jerusalem became a temple city; the surrounding settlements were subordinate to Jerusalem, and the entire life of the nation became dependent on the existence of the city and its Temple. (The Promise of the Land, 201–202)

Some scholars have argued that Jerusalem and the Temple may be read as me­ tonymies for the land of Israel (whose borders nevertheless remain undefined). This is for example the position of William Davies: “The absence of direct references to The Land can, therefore, be misleading, because The Land is implied in the city and the Temple, which became its quintessence.”76 This conclusion, which is based on an assumption rather than a demonstration, is hardly persuasive. Certainly, it contradicts the explicit conclusion reached by Moshe Weinfeld, who adds: Post-exilic discussions of defense stress the nation, not the territory; in the days of Nehemiah, the Jews fought their enemies not to defend the cities of the land, as in 2 Sam. 10:12, “for the sake of our people and the cities of our God,” but rather to 75 Mendels, The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature, 50–51. 76 Davies, The Territorial Dimension of Judaism, 33. However, he fails to provide any conclusive evidence in support of this claim.

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defend “your brothers, sons, daughters, wives and homes” (Neh. 4:8). During the period of the Hasmonean war, as well, we hear of war for the sake of the people, the city, and the Temple, and not for the sake of the land. … Even though in the course of the Hasmonean wars, vast areas were recaptured from within the territory of Israel, the Hasmonean leaders do speak of war not for the sake of the land, but rather for the sake of the people, the Temple, and the Torah. (The Promise of the Land, 204)

The absence of any reference to the land as a stated objective of the Hasmonean wars in 1 Maccabees should be understood in the context of the emergence in the post-exilic era of a Judean identity focused on Jerusalem and the temple. Territorial questions seem to have been very much a secondary aspect of this identity, probably because of the integration of the Judean people within much larger entities, from the Persian empire, to the kingdoms of the Lagids and Seleucids. The borders of Judea were not fixed by the Judean sacerdotal elites, who had no political sovereignty, only having control over internal social and religious issues. It seems that in a context of political stability and cordial relations between the Jerusalem elites and their foreign Persian or Lagid rulers, the Judean community found the situation tolerable. Their attempts to free themselves from the shackles of foreign domination from the second century B.C.E. to the first century C. E. were linked to periods of crisis, including episodes of brutal repression and attempts to interfere with ancestral Jewish laws. Even then, however, the struggle for independence did not necessarily imply a project of territorial expansion. These are two separate concerns.

2.2 The land in 2 Maccabees and in Josephus’ rewriting of 1 Maccabees A comparison of 1 Maccabees with 2 Maccabees and the writings of Josephus will also help us to appreciate the significance of the absence of any reference to the land among the objectives of the wars listed in 1 Maccabees. A distinction must be established, in 2 Maccabees, between the letters and the epitome. As we have already mentioned, the first letter, dated 143/42 B.C.E. and addressed to the Egyptian Jews by the Judean Jewish community, makes a reference to the festival commemorating the rededication of the temple, and to the “holy land,” a phrase which designates Judea. This is unlike 1 Maccabees. The second letter that is quoted in 2 Maccabees seems to have predated the first, since it is addressed by the Jews of Jerusalem and Judea, as well as the gerousia and Judas Maccabeus, to Aristobulus, the preceptor of king Ptolemy, and the Jews of Egypt. This letter mentions a “holy city” (2 Macc 1:12) and attributes to Nehemiah a prayer asking God to gather together those who are in exile and settle them “in your holy place (εἰς τὸν τόπον τὸν ἅγιόν σου), as Moses said” (1:29). There is an obvious reference to Exod 15:17 (“You shall bring them in and plant them on the mountain of your own possession, the place, O Lord, that you made

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your abode”).77 Exod 15:17 only refers explicitly to the mountain of the sanctuary, but this reference is a synecdoche for the land where God will lead the people of Israel after they have fled from Egypt. In the second letter quoted in 2 Maccabees, Nehemiah thus probably prays for all the exiled to be gathered together in the land, even though it seems – a priori – that what he has in mind is Judea, the region around the mountain of the sanctuary. In any case, there is a sharp contrast with 1 Maccabees, which does not allude anywhere to the possibility that diasporic Jewish communities might be gathered on the land of Israel or in Judea. Like the first letter, the second letter ends with an exhortation to celebrate the festival of the rededication of the temple (2:16). The authors then add: 17 For the God who saved His entire people and returned to all (of us) the inheritance, including the kingdom and the priesthood and the sanctity (καὶ ἀποδοὺς τὴν κληρονομίαν πᾶσιν καὶ τὸ βασίλειον καὶ τὸ ἱεράτευμα καὶ τὸν ἁγιασμόν), 18 as is promised in the Law78 – in that God we place our hope, that He will speedily be merciful to us and gather us (ἐπισυνάξει) from (all places) under heaven unto the Holy Place (εἰς τὸν ἅγιον τόπον); for He saved us from great evils and purified the Place (τὸν τόπον).” (2 Macc 2, 17–18; trans. D. R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 132)

The “Holy Place” probably refers – as it does later on in the body of the text of 2 Maccabees79 – to the mount of the temple which God chose as the dwelling-place for his name, i. e. Mount Zion, and perhaps, by extension, Jerusalem. Certainly, the “Place” that was purified coincides with the sanctuary, and does not refer to the earth as a whole. But what does the notion of κληρονομία (klēronomia, inheritance) mentioned in v. 17 connote?80 The rest of the language used in v. 17 can be explained in light of Exod 19:6 LXX: ὑμεῖς δὲ ἔσεσθέ μοι βασίλειον ἱεράτευμα καὶ 77 The translation of the NRSV has been slightly modified. This prayer as a whole (2 Macc 1:24–29) can also be seen to echo Deut 30:3–5. However, the author of 2 Maccabees speaks of a “holy place” instead of referring to the land that God gave to the ancestors. See also Enermalm-­ Ogawa, Un langage de prière juif en grec, 85–86. 78 It seems likely that this is a reference to Exod 19:6. 79 See for example 2 Macc 3:30; 5:19. 80 On this notion in 1 Maccabees, see Part I, section 6 (infra). For most commentators, it refers to the land that God gave to Israel (i. e. the land of Canaan). Thus, Jonathan Goldstein writes: “The ‘heritage’ is surely the land as in Isa 49:8 and Jer 3:19 and 12:15 (cf. Zech 8:12 and Lam 5:2) and I Macc 15:33–34. Though it is not inconceivable that some of Judas’ contemporaries felt that the heritage had been restored with the withdrawal of Lysias and the end of the persecution, Jews and gentiles who were acquainted with the promises of the Torah and the Prophets knew otherwise” (II Maccabees, 188). The gratuitous character of this affirmation is striking, considering that the non-Jewish texts of the period show little awareness of the Pentateuch (not to mention other biblical traditions). This kind of “bibliocentric” perspective is precisely what we must move away from. On this passage, see also Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 162 and 168; Doran, 2 Maccabees, 61.

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ἔθνος ἅγιον,81 while the notion of “kingdom” can be understood in a wider sense, as a reference to a form of autonomy.82 As for the reference to the “inheritance,” it is an addition. If we understand klēronomia in a territorial sense, and identify the “Judas” of 2 Macc 1:10 with Judas Maccabeus,83 this passage must allude to Judea. This would suggest a tendency to exaggeration on the part of the author of this letter, because the Acra was still under the control of Seleucid supporters at the time of writing. Indeed, it is not certain that Judea as a whole was under the control of the Maccabees at the time. However, such an exaggeration may illustrate the rhetorical dimension of this discourse, whose objective is persuasion. It may perhaps be that having control of Jerusalem (despite the continued existence of the Acra) was understood to be equivalent with having control over Judea, which was Jerusalem’s chōra. If we understand the second letter to date from a later period – Robert Doran suggests that it was written under John Hyrcanus, or even Alexander Jannaeus – then, this description could seem more realistic and the term klēronomia could be understood to refer to the entirety of the territory under Judean control at that time.84 But what were the authors of this letter hoping for? What is the meaning of their hope that God “will soon have mercy on us and will gather us from what is under heaven to his holy place” (εἰς τὸν ἅγιον τόπον) (v. 18)? It seems clear that this purified “holy place” is the temple, where Judean and diasporic Jewish communities will come together. Although this could be an allusion to their great eschatological reunion, it seems more likely in this context to understand this gathering as a reference to the pilgrimages to the temple of Jerusalem that brought together Jews from all corners of the world. In other words, the letter may have sought to exhort diasporic Jews to go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Hanukkah. Let us now turn to the body of the text, which is the epitome of the work which was written by Jason of Cyrene. In his preface, the anonymous author celebrates Judas Maccabeus, his brothers, and supporters for their noble deeds: they “plundered the entire country (τὴν ὅλην χώραν λεηλατεῖν) and chased away the barbaric hordes and retook the temple which was spoken of throughout the entire civilized world and liberated the city, and firmly reestablished the laws that were about to be abolished” (2:21–22).85 It seems clear that this summary of the achievements of the Maccabees does not include the reconquest of a single territory, since the wars waged by Judas did not lead to the conquest or annexation of any land (according to 1 Maccabees and Josephus) and since 2 Maccabees ends shortly before the death of Judas, circa 161 B.C.E. We would also be hard pressed to read the use of the verb 81 On the interpretation of this verse in ancient Jewish texts, see D. R. Schwartz, Studies in the Jewish Background of Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 57–66. 82 See Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 168–169; Regev, The Hasmoneans, 279. 83 See Schwartz, ibid., 144. 84 See Doran, 2 Maccabees, 62–63. 85 Trans. D. R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 170.

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“to seize” (λεηλατεῖν) in “they seized the whole land” in v. 21, as a reference to the liberation of the land of the ancestors. In this case, it seems rather more pertinent to follow the interpretation of Jonathan Goldstein, who writes that “Pious Jews were delighted to report how their guerrilla warriors throughout Judaea looted the property of wicked Jews and their pagan protectors!”86 Elsewhere in the book, we find several pleas on behalf of the people, the sanctuary and the city. In 2 Macc 8:2–4, for example, Judas and his comrades implore God to take pity on the people, the desecration of the temple and destruction of the city, and to remember the blood of innocent children, etc. The central position of the city and the temple in the book is especially clear at the end: “Since the affairs concerning Nicanor turned out this way, and ever since the city was taken over by the Hebrews it has been in their hands, here I too will conclude this account” (15:37).87 However, in 2 Maccabees, the defense of the fatherland is mentioned several times as one of the objectives of the struggle, along with the protection of the Law, the temple, etc. In 2 Macc 8:21, Judas’ soldiers are ready to die for their laws and fatherland (patris); similarly, in 13:10, Judas asks the Judeans to pray that they shall not be deprived of their law, fatherland, and holy temple, and that their people shall not fall into impudent hands.88 Daniel Schwartz argues persuasively that the word patris refers to Jerusalem and its chōra.89 This explains why this term is often juxtaposed with polis, as in 2 Macc 13:14, where Judas exhorts his troops to fight for their laws, sanctuary, city, fatherland and (ancestral) constitution.90 In other words, it is justified to identify the “fatherland” with Judea (understood as the Jerusalem area), whereas it would be arbitrary, based on the text of 2 Maccabees, to suggest that the word patris can be interpreted as Eretz Israel, and to argue that the promised land was one of the objectives of the Maccabean wars for the redactor of 2 Maccabees. When the redactor denounces Simon, the captain of the temple, for his hostility to Onias, calling him an “informer against the moneys [of the temple] and the fatherland (ὁ τῶν χρημάτων καὶ τῆς πατρίδος ἐνδείκτης)” (4:1), the fatherland can only be Judea. This is also the case when Jason is portrayed as “the executioner of his fatherland and fellow citizens (πατρίδος καὶ πολιτῶν δήμιος)” (5:8); and when Menelaus is depicted as a traitor to his laws and fatherland (5:15). In conclusion, the land is mentioned more frequently in both the letters and the epitome of 2 Maccabees than it is in 1 Maccabees. Nevertheless, 1) this land is limited to Judea, understood as the chōra of Jerusalem; 2) the preservation of the 86 Goldstein, II Maccabees, 192. 87 Trans. D. R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 495. See also his commentary (p. 3); and his appendix No 11 on 2 Macc 15:37. 88 See also 2 Macc 14:18 89 See in particular his footnote to 2 Macc 4:1, in 2 Maccabees, 213. 90 2 Macc 13:14: δοὺς δὲ τὴν ἐπιτροπὴν τῷ κτίστῃ τοῦ κόσμου παρακαλέσας τοὺς σὺν αὐτῷ γενναίως ἀγωνίσασθαι μέχρι θανάτου περὶ νόμων, ἱεροῦ, πόλεως, πατρίδος, πολιτείας· περὶ δὲ Μωδεϊν ἐποιήσατο τὴν στρατοπεδείαν.

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sanctuary and city of Jerusalem are perceived as the real objective of the Maccabean struggle by the redactor of 2 Maccabees as well as by the Judeans who added the letters to the Jews of Egypt to his manuscript. In the case of Josephus, although he stays fairly close to the thirteen first chapters of 1 Maccabees in Jewish Antiquities, there are nevertheless a few small discrepancies between the two works. Thus, according to 1 Macc 3:8, Judas “went through the cities of Judah and annihilated the impious from it and turned away [the divine] wrath from Israel (καὶ διῆλθεν ἐν πόλεσιν Ιουδα καὶ ἐξωλέθρευσεν ἀσεβεῖς ἐξ αὐτῆς καὶ ἀπέστρεψεν ὀργὴν ἀπὸ Ισραηλ).”91 This passage is based on two biblical episodes: Deut 13:14–15, in which ․herem warfare is prescribed against the renegades of Israel; and Num 25:11, in which the killing of an idolatrous Israelite and his Midianite wife by the high priest Phinehas is presented as a demonstration of religious zeal and said to have saved the sons of Israel from the wrath of God. Returning to the text of 1 Maccabees, Josephus writes: “Then Judas with the ready assistance of his brothers and others drove the enemy out of the country (ἐκ τῆς χώρας), and made an end of those of his countrymen who had violated their fathers’ laws, and purified the land of all pollution (καὶ ἐκαθάρισεν ἀπὸ παντὸς μιάσματος τὴν γῆν)” (Ant. 12.286; trans. Marcus, LCL, 147). Flavius Josephus (or his source, according to commentators such as von Destinon) passes 1 Maccabees’ implicit reference to Phinehas under silence, and adds a passage on the purification of the land which is not mentioned in 1 Maccabees. This shows that the author of 1 Maccabees did not have to stay silent on the question of the land, and that he could have alluded to this theme on several occasions, had he wished to do so.92 However, Josephus himself seldom touches on the issue of the land in the rest of his rewriting of 1 Maccabees in Antiquities. He describes Mattathias exhorting his sons to die for their laws (12.266, 280). He also quotes Judas recalling the example set by their ancestors, who fought to defend their laws and children. In another passage, Judas speaks to his troops of the eternal glory conferred upon soldiers by the fight for freedom, the fatherland, the laws and the cult (eusebeia) (12.304) – in this context, the term “fatherland” should probably be understood to have the same meaning as in 2 Maccabees, where it refers to Judea. Finally, in Book 13 (§ 5), he writes that Judas, who has just died in action, gave up his life in order to defend his compatriots and their freedom. Later, Josephus returns to Simon’s speech to his people in 1 Macc 13:3–6. As in 1 Maccabees, the question of the land does not arise: Simon and his brothers have braved death to defend the freedom of their compatriots, and their honour lies in their readiness to die for their laws and their cult (ὑπὲρ τῶν νόμων καὶ τῆς θρησκείας), and in their ability to protect their people and sanctuary from the assaults of other 91 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 483. 92 On the purification of sites such as Gazara and the Acra in 1 Maccabees, see Part I, section 5 (infra).

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nations (Ant. 13.198–200). Finally, it is worth observing that in the Judean War, which diverges on several occasions from the account provided in 1 Maccabees and includes a large number of factual errors, Josephus does not suggest anywhere that the reconquest of the land was one of the objectives of the Maccabean wars. This examination of 2 Maccabees and of the writings of Josephus illustrates two key points: 1) the author of 1 Maccabees could have made the land (even if only the Judean territory) into a much more explicit motivation for the Maccabean revolt, but he did not do so; 2) the reconquest of the promised land is not listed among the objectives of the revolt in either 2 Maccabees or the writings of Josephus.

2.3 The territorial stakes of the Maccabean wars There are nevertheless a number of territorial issues at stake in the background of 1 Maccabees: for example, when Antiochus IV orders Lysias to march against Judea, annihilate the Judeans, and “settle alien sons in all their regions and to parcel out their land by lot (καὶ κατοικίσαι υἱοὺς ἀλλογενεῖς ἐν πᾶσι τοῖς ὁρίοις αὐτῶν καὶ κατακληροδοτῆσαι τὴν γῆν αὐτῶν)” (1 Macc 3:36; trans. Zervos, NETS, 483–484). According to this passage, the king did not only seek to eradicate the population, but also to seize the land of the Judeans, in order to bring military or agrarian settlers to Judea.93 Right from the beginning of the book, the author mentions the building of the citadel next to the temple, deploring the transformation of Jerusalem into “a residence for foreigners” (κατοικία ἀλλοτρίων), and lamenting the departure from the city of its original residents (1 Macc 1:38). Some scholars have suggested that this passage means that a military colony was founded in Jerusalem and that land seizures had taken place, in order to give land to the settlers.94 However, the word katoikia – which is polysemic, as Louis Robert and Getzel Cohen have shown – could refer to the garrison that took up quarters in

93 On Seleucid military colonies, see G. M. Cohen, The Seleucid Colonies. Studies in Founding, Administration and Organization (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1978), especially 4–5, 21–25, 53–60 and 76–83. The Seleucid occasionally resorted to Jewish military colonies in order to stabilize a region, as when Babylonian Jews were settled in Phrygia under Antiochus III (see Cohen, ibid., 5–9; A. Schalit, “The Letter of Antiochus III to Zeuxis regarding the Establishment of Jewish Military Colonies in Phrygia and Lydia,” JQR 50/4 [1960]: 289–318). 94 See especially Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews, 189–190, 192, 194–195; T. Fischer, Seleukiden und Makkabäer: Beiträge zur Seleukidengeschichte und zu den politischen Ereignissen in Judäa während der 1. Hälfte des 2. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. (Bochum: Norbert Brockmeyer, 1980), 32–33 (more cautiously). See also Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 281– 283, 392; she argues that the reference to the erection of idolatrous altars in the cities of Judea (1 Macc 1:54) is a synecdoche for the land seizures that benefited the settlers.

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the Acra, as opposed to the creation of a colony in the strict sense of the term.95 Whatever the case may be, the text of 1 Maccabees certainly expresses the fear that the Seleucid authorities may at the very least redistribute part of the land of Judea. The Book of Daniel suggests a similar interpretation, in a passage stating that a king, who must be Antiochus IV, will allow his supporters to rule over many people “and shall distribute the land for a [low] price” (Dan 11:39). The philosopher Porphyry interpreted this verse as an allusion to the redistribution of land to military settlers under Antiochus IV.96 However, it is possible to think that the redistribution of land alluded to in these lines from the Book of Daniel in fact benefited the Judeans who supported the policies of Antiochus.97 This reading of Dan 11:39 is corroborated by the fact that the Judeans who had “collaborated” with the Seleucids probably saw their land confiscated by Judas and his men at a later stage, hence their complaints to the king about the looting of their property (1 Macc 6:24). It is however possible that the Seleucid authorities pursued a twopronged policy, involving the distribution of land both to military and agrarian settlers (though not necessarily in Jerusalem), on the one hand, and the cheap sale of land to the king’s local supporters. However, whereas 1 Macc 6:24 implies the effectiveness of this last policy, the possibility that the land may be distributed to settlers in the future is mentioned in 1 Macc 3:36, but never alluded to again later. In the Hellenistic world, the practice of confiscating and redistributing land was widespread and served to keep rebellious populations under control.98 However, 95 The word katoikia can refer to any type of community, including strictly agrarian colonies and the indigenous settlements known as kōmai (this is of course not the case in 1 Macc 1:38, which focuses on a garrison). See L. Robert, “Documents d’Asie Mineure XXXIV–XXXV,” BCH 109/1(1985): 467–484 (especially “Retour à Pergame. 2. Strabon et la katoikia de Pergame,” 483–484); G. M. Cohen, “Katoikiai, Katoikoi and Macedonians in Asia Minor,” Ancient Society 22 (1991): 41–50; L. Capdetrey, “Fondations, diasporas et territoires dans l’Asie hellénistique au IIIe siècle,” Pallas 89 (2012): 319–344. See also Bar-Kochva, Judas Maccabaeus: The Jewish Struggle against the Seleucids, 442–443; Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 110–111. 96 See Elias Bickerman, The God of the Maccabees. Studies on the Meaning and Origin of the Maccabean Revolt (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 47 (or 1080–1081 in the 2007 ed.); Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 147. Although Getzel M. Cohen agrees with Porphyry and estimates that the garrison of the Acra received some land, he does not have a clear view on whether or not a military colony was created (The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria, the Red Sea Basin and North Africa [Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006], 256). 97 Thus, Bezalel Bar-Kochva, for example, estimates that the king thanked the “Hellenists” for their support, by offering them a good price for land that he had seized from others (Judas Maccabaeus, 439–440). 98 See for example the use that Ptolemy makes of this threat in Josephus, Ant. 12.159. On this question, see also Bickerman, The God of the Maccabees, 47 (or 1080–1081 in the 2007 ed.); and Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 281–283. Honigman considers that what happened in Judea was similar to what took place in some parts of Asia Minor: the land became the property of the king and was managed by the citizens of the polis of Antioch-in-Jerusalem, under whose control the rest of the Judean population was placed (ibid., 393–397).

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the question of whether this actually happened remains open, since the creation of Seleucid colonies in Judea is not explicitly mentioned in any other source.99 The reference in 1 Macc 3:36 to the colonization of Judea planned by the Seleucids should also be interpreted in relation with Simon’s later decision to install Judean soldiers in conquered territories outside Judea. This is what the author reminds us in the Eulogy of Simon, in chapter 14: 33 And he fortified the cities of Judea and Baithsoura on the borders of Judea, where the weapons of the enemies were formerly, and he stationed there a guard of Judean men. 34 And he fortified Joppe by the sea and Gazara on the borders of Azotus in which the enemies resided there formerly. And he settled Judeans there (καὶ κατῴκισεν ἐκεῖ Ιουδαίους), and all that was appropriate for their reconstruction he placed in them. (trans. Zervos, NETS, 500)100

It seems that according to 1 Maccabees, the attempt of the Hasmoneans, from Simon onwards, to settle Judeans on their conquered territories, was an answer to the Seleucid plan to create long-term settlements in Judea.101 It is possible that Judean veterans were allocated parcels of land, unless these territories as a whole were considered to be Simon’s personal property. I shall return to this question in Part II, in the context of a discussion of the Hasmoneans’ accumulation of wealth. For now, I shall merely observe that in 1 Maccabees, Seleucid and Hasmonean policies often mirror each other – I shall discuss other examples of this phenomenon later.102 The Judean expansion in fact appears to have been a fitting reversal of fortunes, as the Hasmoneans turned the tables on the Seleucids. Thus, if the reconquest of “The Land” (Eretz Israel) is not explicitly described as a war objective in 1 Maccabees, the conquest of parcels of land within and outside Judea did however constitute a major economic, demographic, political and military incentive for the Hasmoneans. From this point of view, however, the only difference between the policies of the Hasmoneans and Seleucids, is that the former served the interests of a particular ethnos: the Judean ethnos.

  99 See Bar-Kochva, Judas Maccabaeus, 444; Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 147; and, especially, Cohen, The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria, the Red Sea Basin and North Africa, 223–303. 100 Josephus does not mention the arrival of Judean settlers in the corresponding passage of Jewish Antiquities (13.215–217). 101 Bar-Kochva considers that these plans did not have much credibility; see Judas Macca­ baeus, 444. 102 See in particular my analysis of 1 Macc 15 in Part I, section 6 (infra).

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3. The Hasmonean dynasty’s biblical models There will however be some who argue that, even if the aspiration to reconquer the promised land is not explicitly mentioned in 1 Maccabees, it is implicitly suggested by the biblical models underpinning the book. Before we can examine these models and their function in the book, we must begin by asking whether the very notion of the “Bible” was a valid concept in the days of the Hasmoneans.

3.1 A few preliminary reflections on the concept of “Bible” in the second century B.C.E. In the eyes of the most radically “minimalist” Bible scholars and historians, according to whom the Bible and even the Pentateuch were written during the Hellenistic period, the question of the reception of biblical traditions cannot be raised as early as the third and second centuries B.C.E., because they consider that this was the period when these works were written, in some cases on the basis of pre-existing traditions.103 Thus, rather than considering that the Books of the Maccabees are inspired by the Book of Joshua, John Strange argues that the last stage in the composition of the Book of Joshua dates from the Hasmonean period, and should 103 All the various minimalist theses ask whether there are historical facts in the background of the biblical narratives, and examine the history of the composition of the books which ended up constituting the “Bible”. However, dating the writing of these texts to the Hellenistic period does not necessarily preclude taking into acount the existence of earlier traditions. Scholars of the minimalist school include N. P. Lemche, The Israelites in History and Tradition (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998); idem, “The Old Testament: A Hellenistic Book?,” in Did Moses Speak Attic? Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period (ed. L. L. Grabbe: Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001), 287–318; idem, “Does the Idea of the Old Testament as a Hellenistic Book Prevent Source Criticism of the Pentateuch?,” SJOT 25/1 (2011): 75–92. See also Th. L. Thompson, The Mythic Past: Biblical Archaeology and the Myth of Israel (New York: Basic Books, 1999); idem, “The Bible and Hellenism: A Response,” in Did Moses Speak Attic?, 274–286; idem, “Reiterative Narratives of Exile and Return: Virtual Memories of Abraham in the Persian and Hellenistic Periods,” in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honour of Lester L. Grabbe (Ph. R. Davies and D. V. Edelman, eds; New York–London: T&T Clark, 2010), 46–54 (this article is a good illustration of his position: he views the texts as intertextual literary productions, which bear no relationship with historical realities – a position which nevertheless leaves open the question of the origin of the literary traditions which have spawned these intertextual works). Many scholars have criticized the minimalist aproach, including B. Halpern, “Erasing History: The Minimalist Assault on Ancient Israel,” in Israel’s Past in Present Research (ed. P. V. Long; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1999), 415–426; S. Japhet, “Can the Persian Period Bear the Burden? Reflections on the Origins of Biblical History,” in Proceedings of the Twelfth World Congress of Jewish Studies. Division A, The Bible and its World (ed. R. Margolin: Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1999), 35*–45*; R. Albertz, “An End to the Confusion? Why the Old Testament Cannot Be a Hellenistic Book!” in Did Moses Speak Attic?, 30–46; L. L. Grabbe, “Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period,” in ibid., 129–155.

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be seen as a “Hasmonean manifesto” portraying the Hasmonean conquests as an attempt to recreate the “empire” of David, which God had already given to Joshua.104 The role played by the ninth chapter of the Book of Joshua – which relates the alliance the Gibeonites were forced to pass with Israel – in the final redaction of the book, would therefore be to show that it is possible to eschew the massacre of indigenous people (as practiced in the case of Ai, for example, in the previous chapter), by giving them a chance to surrender and submit to Israel.105 More generally, some scholars have argued that the Hasmoneans imposed the canon of the Scriptures and that the texts themselves were revised under their rule.106 Thus, according to Philip Davies, the need to integrate the peoples “converted” by John Hyrcanus and his successors led the Hasmonean dynasty to create both Judaism, understood as an ethnic and religious community, and the canon that would become the masoretic Bible. Davies argues that their creation of the canon involved editing out any pre-existing traditions, some of which had already been written down. According to him, the (masoretic) biblical canon reflected and served to legitimate the Hasmonean dynasty, by presenting them as the accomplishment of scriptural promises for which they were partially responsible.107 104 See “The Book of Joshua. A Hasmonaean Manifesto?” in History and Traditions of Early Israel (A. Lemaire and B. Otzen, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1993), 136–141; idem, “The Book of Joshua – Origin and Dating,” SJOT 16/1 (2002): 44–51, where he refines his point, saying it is the corpus formed by Gen 11–2 Kgs 25 that should in fact be viewed as a “Hasmonaen manifesto.” On the history of the redaction of the Book of Joshua, see the very thorough analysis by M. N. van der Meer, Formation and Reformulation: The Redaction of the Book of Joshua in the Light of the Oldest Textual Witnesses (SVT 102; Leiden: Brill, 2004). Scholars are relatively agreed that this book was composed in four successive stages (pre-Deteuronomic, Deuteronomic, a “nomistic redaction” (DtrN), and sacerdotal) which are attested both in the MT and the LXX. For van der Meer, 4QJosha and the LXX are both expanded or reformulated versions of the version attested in the MT, and as such do not shed light on the redactional history of the Book of Joshua itself. He does not put forward a date for the last phase of its redaction. Rainer Albertz suggests that its sacerdotal redaction came out of a desire to harmonize the Book of Joshua with the Torah, and dates from the fourth century B.C.E. – i. e. a time when the corpus of the Torah as a whole was considered very authoritative; see “The Canonical Alignment of the Book of Joshua,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E. (ed. O. Lipschits et al; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 287–303. 105 John Strange, who proposes this interpretation, fails to take into account the fact that in Josh 9, the Gibeonites are explicitly condemned for betraying the Israelites. 106 See Ph. R. Davies, Scribes and Schools: The Canonization of the Hebrew Scriptures (Louis­ville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 174–182; and, more recently, idem, “The Hebrew Canon and the Origins of Judaism,” in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honour of Lester L. Grabbe, 194–206. See also A. van der Kooij, “Canonization of Ancient Hebrew Books and Hasmonean Politics,” in The Biblical Canons (ed. J.-M. Auwers: Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003), 27–38; D. M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 253–272. 107 Thus, he writes: “Not only does the new archive promote an official national history, a national archive, and potentially a normative literature for religious purposes, but, as revised by the Hasmonean scribes, the literature is presented as being now fulfilled. The constitution of the

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The history of the creation of the canon and the question of the role that the Hasmoneans played in this process are both complex issues which I cannot examine in detail here. I shall merely make a few remarks and recall a few important points. First of all, it is worth emphasizing that the key traditions associated with the Torah and the Prophets in the corpus known as the “Bible,” including various aspects of their formulation in writing, were known in the second century B.C.E.: this is clearly demonstrated by the study of the chapters devoted to the “Praise of the Fathers” in the Wisdom of Ben Sira, whose original Hebrew version predates the Hasmonean revolt and dates back to the beginning of the second century B.C.E.108 According to Lester Grabbe, this means that the Pentateuch, Joshua–2 Kings, the prophetic books, and the Books of Chronicles, were all already in the process of canonization at the start of the second century B.C.E.109 The Qumran manuscripts suggest that it would be anachronistic to speak of the “Bible” or the “canon” in the second and first centuries B.C.E., since a canon implies a closed list of books, whose text is more or less fixed. The manuscripts biblical laws is being realized through the patronage of the Hasmonean king-priests (latter-day Melchizedeks), the history of ‘Israel’ being brought to a glorious climax in the establishment of Judaean/Israelite hegemony in the Promised Land, including the reunification of the territory of the ‘twelve tribes’ and the re-creation of the legendary empire of David” (Scribes and Schools, 181). See also “The Hebrew Canon”. 108 Cf. L. L. Grabbe, “Jewish Historiography and Scripture in the Hellenistic Period,” 143: “Only some of ch. 44 is available in the earliest witness to the Hebrew text from Masada (Shemaryahu Talmon and Yigael Yadin [ed.], Masada VI: Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965, Final Reports [Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1999]). For the rest one must depend on the Hebrew text from the Cairo Genizah (Manuscript B) and the Greek text. However, the Masada manuscript seldom differs from the Cairo manuscript in anything more than orthography or minor textual variations. This suggests that Cairo Manuscript B is a reasonable witness to the original text written by Ben Sira himself, and the Hebrew text is by and large extant for this section.” 109 This is what his study of the section by Ben Sira known as the “Praise of the Fathers” leads him to conclude: “What is obvious to a careful reader of the details is that Ben Sira has summarized in outline form much of the contents of the present Torah and Prophets sections of the Hebrew Bible. Even the table above cannot include all the various details included by him, but in almost all cases they coincide with information in the present biblical text. This is more than just a collection of oral traditions or material derived from several sources. The Minor Prophets are already a unit, for example. He gives a close paraphrase – almost a quote – from a number of passages (e. g. Gen. 5.24; 6.9; 15.18; 1 Sam. 7.10; 12.3–5; Hag. 2.23; and Mal. 3.23–24). The most reasonable conclusion is that Ben Sira had essentially the present biblical text of the Pentateuch, Joshua to 2 Kings, 1–2 Chronicles, and the Prophets in front of him” (L. L. Grabbe, ibid., 147). See also A. Goshen-Gottstein, “Ben Sira’s Praise of the Fathers: A Canon-Conscious Reading,” in Ben Sira’s God: Proceedings of the International Ben Sira Conference, Durham–Ushaw College 2001 (ed. R. Egger-Wenzel: Berlin: de Gruyter, 2002), 235–267. The Books of Chronicles also suggest that a process of canonization was at work in some books; see J. Corley, “Canonical Assimilation in Ben Sira’s Portrayal of Joshua and Samuel,” in Rewriting Biblical History: Essays on Chronicles and Ben Sira in Honor of Pancratius C. Beentjes (J. Corley and H. van Grol, ed.; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011), 57–77.

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found at Qumran only mention the Law (the Pentateuch, probably) and an ill-defined group of “Prophets.” A number of other works visibly seemed to enjoy great popularity, and seem likely to have been considered inspired. The discovery of more than forty manuscripts of the Psalms, combined with the existence of pesharim on the Psalms – i. e. commentaries that were tantamount to a kind of “continuing revelation” – suggest that this was the case with the Psalms, for example. However, other works which are not included in the masoretic canon, such as the Temple Scroll or the Book of Jubilees, may have been viewed as complements to the Mosaic revelation, and endowed with similar authority.110 As for the text of the books which were eventually included in the masoretic canon, the manuscripts of Exodus or Numbers found at Qumran show that it was not yet fixed and that several versions were in circulation within the same circles.111 Some of the very few copies of Joshua and Judges found at Qumran also include variants, which could suggest that these texts were still being edited in the second, or indeed the first, centuries B.C.E.112

110 See H. Najman, Seconding Sinai: The Development of Mosaic Discourse in Second Temple Judaism (ed. M. Popović; Leiden: Brill, 2003); idem, Authoritative Scriptures in Ancient Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 2010); T. H. Lim, “Authoritative Scriptures and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Oxford Handbook of The Dead Sea Scrolls (T. H. Lim and J. J. Collins, ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 303–322. 111 On the diverse types of texts attested in the biblical documents found at Qumran, see E. Tov, “Scriptures: Texts,” in The Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (L. H. Schiffman and J. C. VanderKam, ed.; London: Oxford University Press, 2000), 832–836. 112 Qumran was the site of the discovery of two very fragmentary manuscripts of the Book of Joshua, 4QJoshuaa (4Q47) and 4QJoshuab (4Q48), as well as another document of uncertain origin, XJoshua. Whereas 4QJoshuab and XJoshua conform with the MT, in 4QJoshuaa, which dates from the second or first century B.C.E., the Israelites build an altar to YHWH in Gilgal, and not on Mount Ebal as in Josh 8:30–35 MT and 9:3–8 LXX. In 4QJoshuaa, the erection of the altar and the reading of the Law therefore take place after the crossing of the Jordan river and before the circumcision of the Israelites. This version of the text may reflect the oldest form of the text, which was probably shorter in places (see frg. 15). See DJD XIV. Qumran Cave 4. IX. Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Kings (ed. E. Ulrich; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 143–152; A. Rofé, “The Editing of the Book of Joshua in the Light of 4QJosha,” in New Qumran Texts and Studies. Proceedings of the First Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies, Paris 1992 (ed. G. J. Brooke; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 73–80; E. Noort, “4QJosh.a and the History of Tradition in the Book of Joshua,” Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages 24/2 (1998): 127–144; F. García Martínez, “The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Book of Joshua,” in Qumran and the Bible: Jewish and Christian Scriptures in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (N. Dávid and A. Lange, ed.; Leuven: Peeters, 2010), 97–109. For van der Meer, however, 4QJoshuaa as a whole conforms the MT (Formation and Reformulation, 95–98). As far as the Book of Judges is concerned, there are three very fragmentary manuscripts, 1Q6, 4Q49 and 4Q50. 4QJudgesa (4Q49), which dates from the second half of the first century B.C.E., includes Judg 6, 2–13, minus verses 7 to 10; this fragment thus reveals the existence of a shorter version of the text than those transmitted by other Hebrew and Greek manuscripts (see DJD XIV. Qumran Cave 4. IX. Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Kings [ed. J. Trebolle Barrera; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995], 161–164).

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However, the vast majority of the variants found in the Qumran manuscripts do not significantly alter the meaning or the ideologies of these books. Indeed, Michaël van der Meer’s analysis of Joshua 4Q47 leads him to conclude that most of the unique readings of 4QJosha vis-à-vis both MT and LXX definitely do not point to an editorial reworking of the text of Joshua, but do attest to scribal phenomena such as homoioteleuton (7:14), interchange of synonymous phrases …, addition (7:12) or omission (7:15) of the conjunctive waw, or contextual elucidations, such as the explicative mention of the subject ‘Joshua’ in 6:7, supporting MT-Qere against MT-Ketib.113

In other words, the data from Qumran suggest that the redactional process was coming to a close in the second and first centuries B.C.E.: the works had already been composed and their key characteristics were stable. Moreover, the proto-masoretic version of most biblical books (or at least, fragments of thereof) can be found at Qumran. Ultimately, it is clear that although the Qumran manuscripts do not corroborate the existence of the masoretic canon in the second, or even the first, centuries B.C.E., they nevertheless point to an ongoing canonization process, since certain texts stand out from the rest, because so many manuscripts of these works have been discovered and also because they are so widely cited in other works. However, the key question for us here concerns the relationship that we can establish between what we observe in the Qumran manuscripts and the Hasmonean dynasty. Although the nature of the relationship between the Essenes and the Hasmoneans may have evolved over time, most manuscripts clearly suggest that the Essenes disapproved of, and kept their distance from, the Hasmonean dynasty.114 It is possible to surmise, even if this cannot be proved, that the very diversity of the biblical manuscripts found at Qumran reflects the diverse types of texts in use in Judean society as a whole at that time. We know almost nothing of the types of texts that were read, studied, and copied in Judea in the second and first centuries B.C.E., aside from the rare insights provided by the Qumran and Masada manuscripts, and by a few isolated, and generally later items, such as the 113 Van der Meer, Formation and Reformulation, 97. On the light that the Qumran texts shed on the study of Josh 10, see Michael Langlois, Le texte de Josué 10. Approche philologique, épigraphique et diachronique (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 252; Fribourg: Academic Press/Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011). 114 See H. Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State (Grand Rapids–Jerusalem: W. B. Eerdmans–Yad Itzhak Ben Zvi, 2008); E. Dabrowa, “The Hasmoneans in the Light of the Qumran Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Context: Integrating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Study of Ancient Texts, Languages, and Cultures (ed. A. Lange; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 501–510. This is what Dabrowa writes on p. 509: “In the few cases where the Hasmoneans attract the authors’ attention, it is only to condemn them as those Judean rulers whose actions contributed to a decline of religious life. Indeed, this dimension is the main focus for Qumran authors, who chose to ignore all other aspects of social and political life.” I shall return in Part III to the echoes of the Hasmonean wars in the Qumran manuscripts.

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scriptural quotations in the New Testament and Josephus’ paraphrase in Antiquities. We have no way of knowing whether the Hasmoneans tried to impose a certain type of text, edited by their own scribes, and whether this was the proto-masoretic text. Assuming that this was the case, the Qumran data seem to show that other types of texts nevertheless remained in circulation. Ultimately, however, there are no sources claiming that the Hasmoneans were involved in this type of activity. According to 2 Macc 2:1 and 2:13–14, Judas Maccabeus reconstituted the Jerusalem archives and library that in the days of Nehemiah had contained “the books concerning the kings and the prophets, and also David’s books, and kings’ epistles concerning votive offerings” (v.13).115 However, the sources do not mention any editorial work being carried out in the context of the creation of this library, nor do they report that one version of a text was privileged over another, or that there were problems associated with the establishment of a text, unlike the Letter of Aristeas, for example.116 In conclusion, it is not possible to make definitive pronouncements either on the nature of the biblical traditions known to and used by the Hasmoneans and their supporters, or on the types or the versions of the texts they may have promoted. We do not know whether they sought to impose a “canon” or tried to promote one type of text over another, and through what means they may have tried to achieve these possible goals. The objectives of such an editorial policy are also difficult to define, insofar as the Qumran manuscripts show that every word of a text did not have to be fixed for this work to be considered authoritative, even in the most pious Jewish communities.117 In the end, the most reliable source of information available on the use that the Hasmoneans made of the biblical traditions is to be found in the only book that can be associated with any certainty with the Hasmonean dynasty: 1 Maccabees.

3.2 Biblical models and the literary structure of 1 Maccabees The influence of biblical traditions on 1 Maccabees is perceptible on several levels, especially in the style of the author, who imitates various turns of phrase and expressions attested in the Books of the Torah or the Prophets (as well as the Book of Daniel and the Psalms), and in his references to biblical motifs and characters, 115 Trans. D. R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 132. 116 See Letter of Aristeas 30–32 and 38–39, and the author’s wish that the translation should remain unchanged (310–311); see also M. Niehoff, Jewish exegesis and Homeric Scholarship in Alexandria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 19–37. 117 Not only is the text of the manuscripts of the Pentateuch remarkably variable, but its variability increases further if the sample includes manuscripts from the Reworked Pentateuch, such as 4Q364. However, it is clear that the books of the Pentateuch were considered to contain the Law that was revealed to Israel.

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as well as to particular episodes of biblical history. As several commentators have observed, however, it is important to note that biblical models are not used homogeneously throughout the book.118 Whereas there is quite a large number of biblical references from the start of the book to the death of Judas in chapter 9, there are almost none, aside from a few exceptions, from Jonathan’s investiture onwards. This analysis can be refined further, if we divide the book into three parts: chapters 1 to 3:9; the rest of Judas’ noble deeds from 3:10 to 9:22; and the events under Jonathan and Simon, from 9:23 to the end of the book. As well as presenting a re-reading of the Book of Daniel, the first part of 1 Maccabees – and more especially chapter 2 – contains a great number of biblical references, starting with Phinehas’ killing of the idolatrous Israelite in Numbers 25, the explicit model for Mattathias’ murder of the renegade Jew in Modein (1 Macc 2:23– 27). Seeking to portray the “zeal for the Law” of the Hasmoneans, this episode plays a key role in the rhetorical and ideological apparatus of the Hasmoneans.119 Later, when, in 1 Macc 2:49–61, Mattathias, who is about to die – a parallel with Jacob’s testament to his sons – praises his ancestors and exhorts his descendants to imitate them, he invokes a long list of biblical models. In addition to Phinehas, Abraham, Joseph, Joshua, Caleb, David, Elijah, Hananiah, Azariah, Mishael, and Daniel, were all delivered from adversity and achieved glory (unless they obtained some other form of divine recompense) in recognition of their perseverance and fidelity to the covenant. These references range from Genesis (the covenant with the patriarchs) to Daniel (keeping the covenant in exile) via the kingdom of David (the fulfillment of the covenant). In contrast, we would be hard put to locate a continuous hypotext behind the high deeds of Judas, Jonathan, and Simon, in the second and third parts of 1 Maccabees, despite the fact that these sections clearly exhibit the influence of Deuteronomy in several passages, and include a large num118 See for example J. A. Goldstein, I Maccabees, 12–14 and 21; U. Rappaport, “A Note on the Use of the Bible in 1 Maccabees,” in Biblical Perspectives. Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 175–179; idem, “1 Maccabees,” 712; idem, The First Book of Maccabees, 34–35, 52–54 (Heb.). Both Goldstein and Rappaport emphasize the fact that 1 Maccabees differs in many respects from the “historiography” of the Bible. On biblical reminiscences in 1 Maccabees, see also D. Mendels, “An Inscribed Fragmented Memory from Palestine of the Hasmonean Period: The Case of 1 Maccabees,” in Memory in Jewish, Pagan and Christian Societies of the Graeco-Roman World (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 81–88. On the historical implications of these references, see M.-F. Baslez, “Les conditions d’exercice du métier d’historien à l’époque du Second Temple,” in Comment la Bible saisit-elle l’histoire? XXIe congrès de l’Association catholique française pour l’étude de la Bible (Issy-les-Moulineaux, 2005) (ed. D. Doré; Paris: Cerf, 2007), 227–251. 119 Othmar Keel goes as far as considering that the incident described in 1 Macc 2:15–28 has no historical basis and merely serves to legitimate the dynasty (“1 Makk 2–Rechtfertigung, Programm und Denkmal für die Erhebung der Hasmonäer. Eine Skizze,“ in Hellenismus und Judentum. Vier Studien zu Daniel 7 und zur Religionsnot unter Antiochus IV [O. Keel and U. Staub, ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000], 123–133). However, the majority of commentators argue that this episode is not without historical foundation.

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ber of references to the kings of Israel and Judah.120 If we divide the book between the sections devoted to Mattathias and Judas, on the one hand, and Jonathan and Simon, on the other, the contrast between the number of biblical reminiscences in these two parts is even starker. However, for Arie van der Kooij, the contrast really lies between Judas and Simon, on the one hand, and Jonathan, on the other.121 In reality, however, the number of biblical allusions is comparable in the chapters on Jonathan and Simon; indeed, even the section on Jonathan does include a few biblical references here and there. However, the author of 1 Maccabees did seek to emphasize a certain continuity between Judas and Simon, as we shall see later, particularly in connection with the purification of certain places.122 Uriel Rappaport has also drawn attention to the fact that the references to God become increasingly sparing as the book develops, to the extent that the historiography presented in the book is ultimately barely biblical, despite the biblical language in which it is couched. Contrary to the prevailing view expressed in Deuteronomic historiography, in 1 Maccabees it is not God who intervenes directly to set Israel free, but Judas and his brothers. Although it is true that they have been elected (implicitly by God), as opposed to other Judeans who are not “of the seed of those men to whom was given salvation to Israel by their hand”123 (1 Macc 5:62), the author nevertheless seems especially anxious to highlight their heroism, bravery and personal merits. In the case of Judas, however, he is slightly more explicit about the support he received from God, as though the holy light in which he casts the man responsible for restoring the cult, would also illuminate his brothers and descendants, thus legitimating the Hasmonean dynasty as a whole. However, once the author moves on from his account of the founding role played by Mattathias and Judas, his book no longer reads like a sacred text so much as a dynastic narrative with superficial biblical overtones.

120 The biblical references associated with Jonathan and Simon include a quotation from the Book of Amos (8:10) in 9:41, and a probable allusion to Jonathan, son of Saul in 9:73. In 11:71, Jonathan, whose men have just fled, has a very biblical way of expressing his sense of de­ solation at having been deserted by his men: he tears off his clothes and covers his head with dust. In 14:4–15, the description of Judea under the rule of Simon also imitates the style of the Bible, and Simon is implicitly portrayed as a new Solomon. See infra. 121 See van der Kooij, “The Claim of Maccabean Leadership”. 122 See Part I, section 5 (infra). 123 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 487. When Josephus narrates the defeat of Zechariah and Joseph in Ant. 12.352, he does not mention the race of the men called to save Israel, but evokes Judas’ prescient prediction that they would be beaten.

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3.3 Joshua, a model for the Hasmoneans? Several commentators read 1 Maccabees as a work based on the Book of Joshua, in connection with the reconquest of the promised land. Thus, William D. Davies writes: The story of the conquest and occupation of the Land under Joshua was vivid in the Maccabean mind and in that of the nationalists of the first century. The would-be return to the wilderness in both revolts points to this. Touched upon only briefly in 1 Macc 2:29–30, the theme is noted in far more striking circumstances in Josephus’ account of the fall of the Temple. (The Territorial Dimension of Judaism, 65)

Davies’ interpretation of 1 Macc 2:29–30 is rather surprising, since this passage tells the story of the families who went into the wilderness and took the fatal decision of refusing to fight on the day of the Sabbath. While acknowledging the piety of these people, the author of 1 Maccabees in fact defends the Hasmoneans’ decision to do the opposite, and fight on the day of the Sabbath. As such, it has to be misguided to read this episode as an implicit allusion to the model of the entrance into the promised land after the crossing of the wilderness. For his part, Jonathan A. Goldstein invokes the model of Joshua in the context of Judas’ wars against neighbouring populations in 1 Macc 5 – i. e. in the context of wars waged beyond the borders of the “promised land,” in order to come to the rescue of isolated Jewish communities, surrounded and under threat by non-Jews. This is what Goldstein writes on this question: Our author still portrays Judas as a second Joshua. Judas’ contemporaries, Jewish and gentile, probably did so, too. We can understand how gentiles came to view Jews living on their territory as a “fifth column” preparing the way for the new conquest of the Promised Land. (I Maccabees, 293)

In section 4 of this part of the book, I examine the fifth chapter of 1 Maccabees in detail, in the context of a discussion of ․herem warfare, in order to discover whether there is a possibility that Judas may have obeyed this injunction. However, even before we engage in a close reading of these texts, it is striking to see how many projections and implausible presuppositions underpin Goldstein’s analysis. First of all, Goldstein forgets, or omits to mention, that most of the wars described in 1 Macc 5 do not take place on the promised land, but on the eastern shore of the river Jordan. Secondly, his argument is based on the presupposition that the Nabateans, the Moabites, the population of Gilead, and the other groups settled on that side of the river, were familiar with the biblical texts and expected to see the conquest of the promised land re-enacted in their own times. This is too absurd to deserve further analysis. More interestingly, Friedrich T. Schipper suggests that the destruction of the pagan altars and the circumcision of uncircumcised Jews by Mattathias and his

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supporters can be understood as a re-enactment of Joshua, and in particular of the episode of the circumcision of the Israelites at Gilgal (Josh 5:1–9). He argues that the text of 1 Maccabees portrays Mattathias as a new Joshua, and that, from a typological perspective, the Maccabean revolt can be associated with a new conquest of the land.124 Although it is not impossible to see the text in this light, this reading nevertheless raises a number of issues, starting with the question of the historical veracity of the events described. Either this episode is entirely fictional, in which case there is a stronger likelihood of a connection with Josh 5, or the text of 1 Maccabees has a historical foundation, however partial that may be. If the latter is true, then the move away from the practice of circumcision would have represented a genuine problem calling for a solution, independently of any biblical precedents. It is also worth emphasizing that the circumcision of the Israelites at Gilgal was not performed under duress, as opposed to the events described in 1 Maccabees. Finally, if the author had really wanted to establish a parallel between the ceremony performed at Gilgal and the actions of Mattathias and his supporters, he might have made the allusion more explicit, as the author of 2 Maccabees does in chapter 12, v. 15 (see infra). In fact, there is only one explicit reference to Joshua in 1 Maccabees (1 Macc 2:55), and this reference arises in the context of Mattathias’ testament to his sons (1 Macc 2:49–64). In order to be in a position to appreciate the significance of this single reference, let us first examine the praise of Joshua in the chapters of the Wisdom of Ben Sira devoted to the “Praise for the Fathers”: there are many similarities between the praise of the ancestors in Ben Sira and Mattathias’ testament to his sons, and it has been suggested that the latter may in fact be inspired from Ben Sira.125 1 A war hero was Joshua son of Nun, and the servant126 of Moses in prophecy; he was chosen to bring a great salvation during his lifetime to the elect, to exact revenge against the enemy, and to give Israel ownership of its inheritance. 2 How wonderful (to see him) raise his arm and wield the sword against the city. 3 Who (could) withstand him? For he wa[ged] the wars of the Lord. 4 Did he not bring the sun to a standstill with his hand, one day […]? 5 He called upon God the Most High in (the midst of) oppression […] and God the Most High heard him (and sent) stones of […] 6 […] so that all nations might know the h.erem, because (they waged) their war before the eyes of the Lord and al[so] because he (was) entirely behind God. 7 And 124 F. T. Schipper, “Mattatias und Josua: eine Beobachtung zur Typologie in der jüdisch-hellenistischen Geschichtsschreibung, “ BN 125 (2005): 95–96. 125 See T. R. Elßner, Josua und seine Kriege in jüdischer und christlicher Rezeptionsgeschichte (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 2008), 27–56. 126  The word ‫משרת‬, which literally means “servant,” can be translated as “successor,” as shown by the Greek translation διάδοχος. Rudolf Smend has commented on the use of the verb ‫ שרת‬in the context of Elijah’s successor Elisha (1 Kgs 19:21), underlining the connexion between “servant” and “successor” (Die Weisheit des Jesus Sirach erklärt [Berlin: Reimer, 1906], 439). See also Corley, “Canonical Assimilation,” 62.

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in Moses’ lifetime, he showed his piety,127 as did Caleb son of Jephunneh, holding firm against the division of the assembly, in order to deflect the anger from the congregation and to put an end to the slanderous report (that the other spies had compiled on the land of Canaan). 8 This is also why they (alone) were both spared, out of six hundred thousand (who had crossed the desert) on foot, so that they may receive their inheritance, a land flowing with milk and honey (Wisdom of Ben Sira 46:1–8; Genizah MS B; my translation)128

The overall tonality of this text is the same in its Hebrew and Greek versions, despite a few differences in their wording: taking over from Moses as prophet and leader of the people, Joshua is first and foremost a warrior. He is a hero who engages in combat at the behest of YHWH, wages ․herem warfare against the people of Canaan, and conquers the promised land – “the land flowing with milk and honey” – after many divine miracles have taken place. The hailstones and the stilling of the sun are obvious references to Josh 10:11–14. Indeed, this passage from the Wisdom of Ben Sira is clearly inspired by various passages from the Book of Joshua.129 The brief reference to Joshua in the testament of Mattathias (1 Macc 2:55) is at odds with the lengthy tribute paid to him in the Wisdom of Ben Sira.130 Not only is the passage much shorter, since Mattathias makes each one of his biblical 127 The Hebrew word can mean either “piety,” “loyalty to God” or “mercy” (as in “he was merciful”). The Greek translation uses the term ἔλεος. 128 For the Hebrew text, see Z. Ben-Hayyim, The Book of Ben Sira: Text, Concordance and an Analysis of the Vocabulary (Jerusalem: The Academy of the Hebrew Language and the Shrine of the Book, 1973), 57. The text of the LXX is as follows: “1 Mighty in war was Iesous son of Naue and a successor of Moyses in prophecies, who was, like his name, great for the salvation of his elect, to take vengeance on enemies when stirred up, so that he might give Israel an inheritance. 2 How he was glorified when he lifted up his hands and when he extended a sword against cities! 3 Who before him stood so? For it was he who led the wars of the Lord. 4 Was it not by his hand that the sun was shackled, and one day became as two? 5 He called upon the Most High, mighty one, when enemies pressed him all around, and the great Lord heard him with stones of hail of mighty power. 6 He rushed down upon a nation in battle, and on a slope he destroyed those who resisted so that nations might know his armament, because their battle was against the Lord, for indeed he followed after a mighty one. 7 And in the days of Moyses he did mercy, he and Chaleb son of Iephonne, to oppose an assembly, to restrain people from sin and to still grumbling of wickedness. 8 And these were the two that escaped out of the six hundred thousand infantry to lead themd into an inheritance, into a land flowing with milk and honey” (trans. Benjamin G. Wright, NETS, 757). 129 Thus, Sir 46:3, ‫מי הוא לפניו יתיצב‬, echoes Josh 1:5, ‫לא יתיצב איש לפניך‬. See Corley, “Canonical Assimilation,” 69. On the repetition and alteration of biblical formulae in Ben Sira, see P. C. Beentjes, “Canon and Scripture in the Book of Ben Sira,” in “Happy the One Who Meditates on Wisdom” (Sir. 14,20): Collected Essays on the Book of Ben Sira (Leuven: Peeters, 2006 [orig. 2000]), 169–186. 130 For an account of these different types of “Praises of the Fathers” or “Galleries of Ancestors,” see M.-F. Baslez, “Écrire l’histoire dans le judaïsme hellénisé et le premier christianisme: les galeries de figures ancestrales,” in Eukarpa: Études sur la Bible et ses exégètes en hommage à Gilles Dorival (M. Loubet and D. Pralon, ed.; Paris: Cerf, 2011), 191–204.

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references fit within the space of a single sentence, but its emphasis is different: “Joshua, by fulfilling the command (or word),131 became a judge in Israel” (Ἰησοῦς ἐν τῷ πληρῶσαι λόγον ἐγένετο κριτὴς ἐν Ισραηλ). There is not a single reference to Joshua’s bravery, to his role as a warrior and to the land that was conquered thanks to him. Indeed, God’s miracles themselves are passed over in silence. It is fair to say that, unlike the author of 2 Maccabees, the author of 1 Maccabees showed very little interest in miracles and other forms of direct divine intervention.132 Indeed, the word logos itself is rather ambiguous here: what word or command does it describe? Although it may of course refer to the commandment to conquer the land, it could also allude more specifically to the obedience and loyalty that Joshua (and Caleb) demonstrated in Num 14, an episode which Ben Sira relates in detail.133 In the testament of Mattathias, Joshua is mentioned after Phinehas and before Caleb, i. e. between two men who have shown exemplary loyalty to God at times when the people have doubted, or rebelled against, God (I am referring to Num 25 in the case of Phinehas, and to Num 14 in the case of Caleb, a passage where he is associated with Joshua). Indeed, Ben Sira perceives Joshua and Caleb as men who have managed to turn the wrath of God away from their congregation (v. 7 in the Hebrew version), just as Phinehas did in Num 25. The order in which these names appear in Mattathias’ testament therefore makes very good sense. These three figures – Phinehas, Joshua, Caleb – in fact provide a historical perspective on the lived experience of Mattathias and his sons, who themselves also incarnate the loyalty of the “rest” of Israel during a period of “apostasy”. The characteristic of Joshua that is most clearly emphasized in 1 Maccabees, is thus his loyalty to the word of God, to God’s commandments. Finally, Joshua’s reward is rather surprising. It is not really wrong to claim that he “became a judge in Israel,” since he does, to some extent, represent the first “judge” in the history of Israel (or the second, after Moses, who can also be seen in this light), followed by those listed in the eponymous book, before the period of the kings of Israel. However, biblical narratives do not explicitly introduce him as a judge, but as the servant and successor of Moses.134 The author of 1 Maccabees makes his point clearly: loyalty to the word of God, to the commandments of God, can be the reason why God elects an individual, destining him to become the political and spiritual leader of the people, independently of his line131 Although logos is usually translated as “word,” Grimm has suggested that it should be understood to mean “command” (“Befehl”) in Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 47. 132 See Bar-Kochva, Judas Maccabeus, 214–215 (on 1 Macc 3:19). 133 Jonathan A. Goldstein finds parallels between 1 Macc 2:55 and Num 13–14 (I Maccabees, 240). Thomas R. Elßner finds echoes of the phrase πληρῶσαι λόγον in 1 Kgs 1:14; 2:27; 2 Chr 36:21; Col 1:25 (Josua und seine Kriege, 57–58). 134 See for example Deut 31:3.7–8.23; Josh 1:1. This point had already been made by Goldstein (I Maccabees, 240). According to Werner Dommershausen, Joshua may be seen as the first judge (see 1 Makkabäer–2 Makkabäer [Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 1985], 27).

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age or membership of a specific dynasty. Indeed, Joshua is not the son of anyone in particular, and especially not of Moses. He is merely a member of the tribe of Ephraim.135 Similarly, Mattathias and his sons do not base their claims to legitimacy on their genealogy, but on their election, and, correlatively, their loyalty to God. This is why the exhortation to be faithful to, and show zeal for, the law is the common thread running through Mattathias’ testament to his sons. In the eyes of the author, this zeal – along with their purification and rededication of the temple – is the reason why the Hasmoneans were elected and the foundation of their political legitimacy.136 In another passage from 1 Maccabees, Jonathan himself is presented as a judge (independently of any reference to Joshua): “And the sword ceased from Israel, and Jonathan lived in Machmas and began to judge the people (κρίνειν τὸν λαὸν) and removed the impious from Israel” (1 Macc 9:73). More generally, the brothers as a whole evoke the biblical model of the judges, i. e. of the saviours that God sent to Israel (in connection with Judas, see 1 Macc 3:6). It is also worth bearing in mind that kings also acted as judges for their people (1 Kgs 3:9; 2 Kgs 15:5) – in fact, it was the prerogative of all kings in the ancient Near East to perform the duties of a judge.137 Although the author of 1 Maccabees could have made explicit references to Joshua’s wars in the context of his own account of the wars waged by Judas and his brothers, he did not choose to do this.138 In his account of Judas’ battle against Seron, he describes the Judeans chasing the Syrian general “on the descent of Baithoron (i. e. Beth-Horon) down to the plain” (1 Macc 3:24). Interestingly, the

135 See Num 13:16 and Num 27:18–23, in which the decision to name Joshua as Moses’ successor is attributed to God: “Take Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom is the spirit, and lay your hand upon him; have him stand before Eleazar the priest and all the congregation, and commission him in their sight.” 136 On the “election” of the Hasmoneans, see 1 Macc 5:62. On the purification and the rededication of the temple, see Part I, section 5 (infra); see also Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, chap. 4. 137 As Christian-George Schwentzel rightly observes in Juifs et Nabatéens. Les monarchies ethniques du Proche-Orient hellénistique et romain (Rennes: PUR, 2013), 35. 138 Thomas R. Elßner suggests that there is a parallel between 1 Macc 13:22 (when a sudden snowfall prevents Trypho from coming to the rescue of the men trapped in the Acra) and Josh 10:11 (when “huge stones” miraculouslously fall from the heavens) (Josua und seine Kriege, 59). However, he nevertheless does emphasize the fact that there is no mention of God in 1 Maccabees: the author describes the snowfall as a factual event, instead of claiming that God (or the heavens) are coming to the help of the Judeans, as he does on a few occasions elsewhere (see 1 Macc 3:60; 4:10); see also Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 53 and 298. Moreover, this snowfall does not have the same impact as the stones falling from the sky in Joshua, since the latter crush his ennemies.

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“ascent of Beth-Horon” is precisely the place where Joshua routed the coalition of Canaanite kings waging war on Gibeon and Israel.139 As Félix-Marie Abel observes, The author indulges in reminiscences of the ancient wars fought by Israel when he uses the already old-fashioned phrase “land of the Philistines.” He could have recalled the feat that Joshua accomplished when he chased the kings of the Amorites down the ascent (descent) of Beth-Horon, after their defeat at Gibeon (Josh 10:10ff) and the rout of the Philistines in the days of Saul, as they were chased down the same path from Michmash to Aijalon (1 Sam 14:31). (Les livres des Maccabées, 60. The emphasis is mine)140

However, the author did not do this. And the same is true in 1 Macc 7:39, where we are told that Nicanor camped in Beth-Horon before waging the battle where he lost his life, but without any reference to Joshua’s deeds. Similarly, Bezalel Bar-Kochva notes that no allusion is made to Joshua’s victorious campaigns, in a discussion of the battle between Judas and Nicanor in 1 Macc 7:31–47: … it is worth noting the author’s great precision in specifying names and topographical data. The first and second battles against Nicanor … took place at Kafar Salama and Adasa (I Macc. 7.31, 40), two small undistinguished hamlets situated about a bowshot from Gibeon, which was well known and populated also in the days of the author. Had he specified Gibeon as the place of the encounter, he would have added an important element to the image of the Hasmoneans as reviving the commandment to conquer and settle the country (see 1 Macc. 15.33), and would have aroused pleasant associations with Joshua’s and David’s great victories at Gibeon (Josh. 10.10–14; 1 Chron. 14.16), all the more so in the battle of Adasa where the enemy doubtless fled down the Beth-Horon Descent to the Aijalon Valley on its way to the Seleucid stronghold at Gezer (I Macc. 7.45; cf. Joshua 10.11–12.33; I Chr. 14.16). (Judas Maccabeus, 154–155)

However, the author of 1 Maccabees makes no mention of Gibeon and omits to make any allusion to Joshua in his account of that battle.141 139 See Josh 10:10–11: “And the Lord threw them into a panic before Israel, who inflicted a great slaughter on them at Gibeon, chased them by the way of the ascent of Beth-Horon, and struck them down as far as Azekah and Makkedah. As they fled before Israel, while they were going down the slope of Beth-Horon, the Lord threw down huge stones from heaven on them as far as Azekah, and they died.” 140 Original French text: “L’auteur met quelque complaisance à évoquer le souvenir des luttes de l’ancien Israël en usant du terme alors désuet de ‘terre des Philistins.’ Il eût pu rappeler aussi l’exploit de Josué poursuivant à la montée (descente) de Bethoron les chefs amorréens battus sous Gabaon (Josh 10, 10s) et la fuite des Philistins chassés de Makhmas sur Ayyalon au temps de Saül (1 S 14, 31) par la même voie.” 141 For Bar-Kochva, this is part of the author’s general tendency to be relatively exact in his account of military engagements: when he describes a battle, he is not merely rewriting a biblical episode for ideological purposes.

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Finally, a comparison of the First and Second Books of Maccabees also helps to put the reference to Joshua in Mattathias’ testament into perspective. In 2 Maccabees, the most explicit reference to Joshua and to the conquest of Canaan occurs in chapter 12 (vv.13–16), which corresponds to chapter 5 in 1 Maccabees: this is the episode describing the wars that Judas wages against peoples settled on the eastern shores of the river Jordan, in order to save the Judeans living in their midst.142 Joshua is mentioned in connection with his victory at Kaspin, a fortified city in Gilead, whose inhabitants are depicted as blasphemers.143 In consequence: Judas’ men, after calling upon the great Ruler of the world, who without battering rams and war-machines flung Jericho down in the days of Joshua, stormed the wall ferociously. After taking the city, in accordance with God’s will, they carried out an indescribable slaughter, such that the adjacent lake, which was two stadia wide, appeared to have been filled by the blood flowing down into it. (2 Macc 12:15–16; trans. D. R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 415)

This passage is characteristic of the tone of 2 Maccabees, with its emphasis on the direct intervention of God in matters of war, and with its tendency towards exaggeration and pathos. The reference the author makes to Jericho, in the context of his description of the fortified city of Kaspin,144 simply seeks to give heart to Judas’ troops by reminding them that victory lies in the hands of God, who is a just sovereign and does not leave sins unpunished (in particular blasphemy, as evidenced by the fall of Gazara in chapter 10 and the episode with Nicanor in 15:24.32–33). Moreover, the notion of massacre introduced by the term σφαγή (sphagē, “slaughter”) is not enough to suggest that the fall of Kaspin coincides with the reactivation of the ․herem against the Canaanites (see section 4, infra). A little later on, in 2 Macc 12, we are told that a number of Judeans lost their lives in a battle against the Idumean general Gorgias, and that “objects dedicated to the idols of Jamnia, which the Law prohibits to Jews” were found under their tunics (v. 40). Judas’ soldiers had attacked Jamnia before going to Gilead, where they had an opportunity to lay their hands on these forbidden items. This episode might be considered to recall Joshua 7, which describes Achan’s disobedience, when he took some of the things that had been devoted to God with a ․herem. In this case, it would be possible to read the destruction by fire of the port of Jamnia in 2 Macc 12:8–9 in light of the fall of Jericho, which also ends with a fire (Josh 6:24). However, in 2 Maccabees no ․herem had been pronounced, devoting the riches of Jamnia to God, and, unlike Achan, the culprits were not guilty of appropriating a mantle, silver, and a bar of gold. Instead, they had stolen ritual objects, which made them guilty of idolatry. In other words, the sin committed by Judas’ soldiers is 142 143 144

On 1 Macc 5, see Part I, section 4 (infra). Chaspho in 1 Macc 5:36. See Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 427.

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more likely to be understood as a transgression of Deut 7:25–26, which prescribes the destruction of all objects connected with idolatrous cults.145 In conclusion, a comparison of the First Book of Maccabees with the Second shows that the author of 1 Maccabees could have made other references to the Book of Joshua, especially in his account, in chapter 5, of Judas’ victorious campaigns on the eastern shore of the river Jordan. However, he did not. The author of 1 Maccabees seems to have been only very marginally inspired by Joshua and his various exploits. In contrast, however, royal figures play a key role in his text.

3.4 A sacerdotal family seeking to legitimate its position as a royal dynasty The scholarship on the Maccabees often emphasizes the need for the Hasmoneans to legitimate the royal mantle in which this family draped their political and military power. Indeed, their claim to the high priesthood itself was open to challenge, since they they were not part of the Oniad family and since Jonathan, the first Hasmonean to be named high priest, owed his position to Alexander Balas (1 Macc 10:20–21). Jonathan and Simon both rose to the high priesthood with the help of the Seleucids.146 Moreover, it is the son of Alexander Balas, Antiochus VI, who named Simon stratēgos (1 Macc 11:59). In other words, the Hasmoneans did not only owe their power to their internal legitimacy within the context of Judea’s newfound autonomy from the Seleucids, but also to the external support they received from the Hellenistic rulers with whom they had forged alliances, and more indirectly from Rome itself.147 This explains why they had to resort to the ideology of election: in order to strengthen their claim to internal legitimacy, they had to prove that, beyond their dealings with the Seleucids, the rise to power 145 See also J. A. Goldstein, II Maccabees, 448. 146 After Jonathan’s death, the people allegedly acclaimed Simon in the following terms: “You are our leader in place of Judas and Jonathan your brother” (1 Macc 13:8). However, it is not until Simon receives the letter of Demetrius II that he is described as a high priest for the first time (13:36). This marks the moment when “the people began to write on their documents and transactions, ‘In the first year of Simon the great high priest, both general and leader of the Judeans’” (13:42). 147 Thus, Tessa Rajak writes: “Although Hasmonean power in Judaea emerged out of revolt, the authority of successive members of the family had as much to do with grants and privileges from rival Seleucids as it did with any popular mandate” (“Hasmonean Kingship and the Invention of Tradition,” in The Jewish Dialogue with Greece and Rome, [Leiden: Brill, 2001 (orig. 1996)], 39–60; the quotation is on p. 45). According to Erich Gruen, “The much heralded ‘autonomy’ achieved under Simon depended upon favors granted and public acknowledgment of awards by Syrian royalty. As Seleucid discord increased and their hold on the realm disintegrated, Hasmonean power expanded notably under John Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus” (Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition, 28). See also T. Rajak, “Roman Intervention in a Seleucid Siege of Jerusalem?,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 22/1 (1981): 65–81; I. Shatzman, “The Integration of Judaea into the Roman Empire,” SCI 18 (1999): 49–84.

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of their family was the result of God’s will.148 Moreover, they had to find a justification for the fact that they combined a sacerdotal office with political and military (i. e. royal) power. Although the Hasmoneans did not officially lay claim to the royal title until Aristobulus, their leadership had de facto been of a royal nature ever since the rule of Simon, if not Judas.149 Such a combination of powers was in fact not entirely unknown in biblical traditions. In the Pentateuch, the model for the political leader who guides and saves the people is Moses, who was a member of the tribe of Levi – although he did delegate the priesthood to his brother Aaron and his descendants.150 Even if a few discreet references to Moses can be found in 1 Maccabees,151 they nevertheless do not erect Moses as the benchmark for the Maccabees, probably because the figure of the legislator was sui generis. Moreover, in the “historical” books of the Hebrew Bible, the king is not excluded from the performance of rituals, and can, as such, offer sacrifices.152 In general, however, the cult was the prerogative of priests. Finally, the figure of the prince (nasi) described in Ezekiel 45 and 46, which implicitly echoes a polemic against pre-exilic kings, seems to combine both royal and sacerdotal duties. However, pro-Hasmonean circles did not follow this tradition, at least according to 1  Macca­bees. Conversely, Phinehas – Aaron’s grandson – is regularly presented as a priestly model in the book. I have already mentioned the seminal reference the book makes to Phinehas and Num 25 in chapter 2, when Mattathias kills a Judean because he is an apostate. The character of Phinehas had the advantage of promoting the figure of the warrior-priest.153 Moreover, the “covenant of peace” (Num 25:12) that God granted to Phinehas and his descendants ensured that the high priesthood would remain in his family. To follow in the footsteps of Phinehas was thus to lay a legit148 As Tessa Rajak correctly observes: “Arguably, it is precisely when a native ruler is legitimized by a suzerain power, that it becomes particularly desirable for him to make his own authority palatable by stating it in supposedly authentic local terms” (“Hasmonean Kingship,” 45). 149 Uriel Rappaport also notes that there are similarities between the power exercised by Simon and John Hyrcanus and royal power, but he emphasizes the role played by the people in Simon’s nomination (1 Macc 14:25–49) and the specificities of Judea. According to him, the Hasmonean claim to royal power really began with Jannaeus and he argues that from then on the Judean monarchy became Hellenistic (The House of the Hasmoneans, 219, 226, 287, 326). 150 The figure of Moses, who acts as an intermediary between God and the people, dictates the laws and performs the duties of a judge, is in fact closer to the model of a king than a priest. 151 In 1 Macc 4:9, for example, as the Judeans prepare to fight Gorgias, Judas exhorts his troops to be brave in battle and reminds them that their ancestors were saved at the Red Sea. 152 On this point, see D. W. Rooke, “Kingship as Priesthood: The Relationship between the High Priesthood and the Monarchy,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East (ed. J. Day; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 187–208. 153 See Batsch, La guerre et les rites de guerre, 136–151.

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imate claim to the high priesthood.154 It is also worth observing that there are no references to Phinehas in 2 Maccabees, a book focusing exclusively on Judas, the only one of Mattathias’ sons who did not become a high priest. There may also have been another reason behind the focus on the figure of Phinehas in 1 Maccabees. The “Praise of the Fathers,” in Sir 45–50, includes a section on Phinehas which appears to imply that his descendants will inherit the covenant with David, and therefore will have political responsibility for the people, alongside the high priesthood. Some commentators argue that the Greek version of the Wisdom of Ben Sira, which dates from the end of the second century B.C.E.,155 made this interpretation especially likely: in their view, the translator was a supporter of the Hasmonean dynasty. However, others suggest on the contrary that the Hebrew version of the Wisdom of Ben Sira, which predates the Maccabees,156 already associated the sacerdotal covenant with the Davidic covenant.157 Indeed this is what Ben Sira writes in the context of Phinehas: 24 This is why He (God) passed a decree in his favour too, a covenant of peace providing for a sanctuary, so that the high priesthood may be bestowed upon him and his descendants in perpetuity, 25 and also his covenant with David son of Jesse of the tribe of Judah, an inheritance of fire before his glory, the inheritance of Aaron and all his descendants. (45:24–25; Genizah MS B, my translation)158 154 Not only does Mattathias call him “our father” in 1 Macc 2:54, but the notions of imitation and spiritual filiation underlying 1 Macc 2:26 and 54 confer legitimacy to the claims of his descendants to the high priesthood. See M. Hengel, Die Zeloten: Untersuchungen zur jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung in der Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr. (Leiden: Brill, 1961), 158; J. Sievers, The Hasmoneans and their Supporters: From Mattathias to the Death of John Hyrcanus I (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), 158. 155 Probably shortly after 117 B.C.E., the year of the death of king Ptolemy VIII Euergetes. See P. W. Skehan and A. A. Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira: A New Translation with Notes (AB 39; New York: Doubleday, 1987), 9. 156 For Beentjes, the Hebrew original of the Wisdom of Ben Sira dates from circa 190 B.C.E.; see in particular “Canon and Scripture in the Book of Ben Sira,” 169. Skehan and Di L ­ ella date it from the first quarter of the second century, circa 180 B.C.E. (ibid.). 157 See van der Kooij, “The Claim of Maccabean Leadership,” 34–36. Cf. Skehan and Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sira, 514. 158 My translation. Hebrew text (Ben-Hayyim, The Book of Ben Sira, 57): ‫לכן גם לו הקים חק   ברית שלום לכלכל מקדש‬ ‫אשר תהיה לו ולזרעו  כהונה גדולה עד עולם‬ ‫וגם בריתו עם דוד   בן ישי למטה יהודה‬ ‫נחלת אש לפני כבודו נחלת אהרן לכל זרעו‬ On the difficulties raised by the translation of the Hebrew and the various interpretations that have ben put forward, see H. Stadelmann, Ben Sira als Schriftgelehrter: Eine Untersuchung zum Berufsbild des vor-makkabäischen Sofer unter Berücksichtigung seines Verhältnisses zu Priester-, Propheten- und Weisheitslehrertum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1980), 149–159; P. C. Beentjes, Jesus Sirach en Tenach (Nieuwegein, 1981), 186–192, based on J. D. Martin’s summary (“Ben Sira’s Hymn to the Fathers: A Messianic Perspective,” in Crises and Perspectives [ed. A. S. Van der Woude; Leiden, Brill, 1986], 107–123).

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Indeed, Ben Sira explicitly connects the high priest Simon with Phinehas in 50:24, with the suggestion that Simon is the heir to the covenants of both Phinehas and David. Kenneth E. Pomykala argues that for Ben Sira and his circle, “the office of the high priesthood embodied in his time all the offices of Israel’s history, including the royal office established in the Davidic covenant.”159 In other words, the association of the high priesthood with political (and originally royal) power was not understood in messianic or eschatological terms, but was an aspect of the institutional structure of the Second Temple period. However, it remains difficult to determine whether Ben Sira’s perspective merely reflects the point of view of a given sacerdotal community, or whether it represents a view that was widely held in Judean society at the start of the second century B.C.E. Whatever the case may be, it throws light on the references to Phinehas, David and other kings of Israel in 1 Maccabees.160 David is first mentioned in the context of the list of figures from the past that Mattathias explicitly sets as exemplars to his sons. David too had been elected by God, since he had been chosen despite not being descended from Saul, the first king of Israel. Moreover, David incarnated the biblical tendency to privilege “minor” figures and “younger sons” – a predilection which in fact is the justification for the election of the people of Israel themselves: according to Deut 7:7, Israel is the “fewest of all people.” In 1 Maccabees, however, divine election is based on merit. Just as God recompensed the piety and zeal for the law of Joseph, Phinehas, and Joshua, by naming them respectively lord of Egypt, high priest, and judge, and just as he gave land to Caleb in recognition of the same virtues (1 Macc 2:53–56), so David’s piety earned him the kingdom of Israel: Δαυιδ ἐν τῷ ἐλέει αὐτοῦ ἐκληρονόμησεν θρόνον βασιλείας εἰς αἰῶνας (“David, because of his piety, inherited the throne of a kingdom forever,” 2:57; my translation). Although the Greek word ἔλεος means “mercy,” it is in fact justified to translate it as “piety,” on the grounds that it was clearly used to translate the Hebrew term ‫( חסד‬h ․essed).161 As André Caquot has shown, the meaning of ‫ חסד‬as “(act) of piety” is clearly attested in several texts, especially in connection with David. In both Isa 55:3 and 2 Chr 6:42, the phrase ‫חסדי דוד‬, which is respectively translated as τὰ ὅσια Δαυιδ and τὰ ἐλέη Δαυιδ in the LXX, designates “David’s pious works, the manifestations of his loyalty to

159 Pomykala, The Davidic Dynasty Tradition in Early Judaism: Its History and Significance for Messianism (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 142. His argument is based on B. L. Mack, Wisdom and the Hebrew Epic (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 36. 160 On the rise of the “sacerdotal kingship” from the end of the Persian period onwards, and its correlative ideology, see D. M. Goodblatt, The Monarchic Principle: Studies in Jewish Self-Government in Antiquity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994), esp. 38–40, and 56. 161 This is how C. L. W. Grimm interprets this word: he argues against its translation as “mercy” in this context, and opts instead for “Frömmigkeit, Tugend” (Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 48).

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God.”162 In 4QMMT, section C, line 25, David is also described as a “pious man” (‫איש חסדים‬, literally “man of pious deeds”); his name is mentioned to illustrate the point that those who tried to observe the commandments of the Torah were forgiven for their sins. Finally, translating ‫חסד‬/ἔλεος as “piety” in 1 Maccabees is congruent with the conclusion of the testament of Mattathias: “Children, be brave, and be strong in the law, for by it you will be glorified” (1 Macc 2:64). In other words, those who show zeal for the law can hope to inherit the high priesthood and a kingdom, like Phinehas and David, who found favour with God because of their loyalty. The words εἰς αἰῶνας (“forever”) may be understood as implying the hope that David’s descendants will be restored to power, according to a messianic view attested in the first century B.C.E. in the Psalms of Solomon (XVII).163 Such an interpretation would contradict the notion that Mattathias and his descendants could inherit David’s covenant. However, the words εἰς αἰῶνας can also be understood to mean “for a very long period of time,” as Carl Grimm suggests, observing that at no point does the redactor of 1 Maccabees express the hope to see one of David’s descendants rise to the throne.164 Similarly, for Kenneth E. Pomykala, “the Davidic dynasty tradition served the author of 1 Maccabees not as a promise awaiting fulfillment, but as a biblical prototype to be imitated.”165 According to Benedikt Eckhardt, the passage from the Psalms of Solomon voicing the hope for a messiah descended from David is part of a redactional layer added in the 162 See A. Caquot, “Les ‘grâces de David’: A propos d’Isaïe 55/3 b,” Semitica 15 (1965): 45–59; the quotation is on p. 59. On the meaning of ‫ חסד‬as loyalty to or love of God, see for example Jeremiah 2:2. In the Wisdom of Ben Sira, there is no mention of the ‫חסד‬/ἔλεος of David. However, David is described as loving his Maker with all his heart (47:8), which does emphasize his loyalty or devotion to God. 163 See for example J. Klausner, The Messianic Idea in Israel: From the Beginning to the Completion of the Mishnah (New York: Macmillian, 1955), 260. 164 Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 48. On the weak sense of εἰς αἰῶνας, Grimm also cites Ps 21(20):5 and 1 Kgs 1:31. Another example worth bearing in mind is 1 Macc 14:41: “The Judeans and the priests were pleased that Simon would be their leader and high priest forever, until a faithful prophet would arise” (οἱ Ιουδαῖοι καὶ οἱ ἱερεῖς εὐδόκησαν τοῦ εἶναι αὐτῶν Σιμωνα ἡγούμενον καὶ ἀρχιερέα εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα ἕως τοῦ ἀναστῆναι προφήτην πιστὸν). K. E. Pomykala also adopts this interpretation of εἰς αἰῶνας in The Davidic Dynasty Tradition, 154–155. However, he does not base his argument on Grimm so much as on Goldstein, who makes the case for drawing a distinction between the plural εἰς αἰῶνας (which he argues means “for a long period of time”) and the singular (which he considers to mean “for all eternity”). This distinction is attested in some of the manuscripts. According to Goldstein, this use of the singular was a correction added by Christian scribes keen to assert the preeminence of the Davidic dynasty (I Maccabees, 240–241; for the variants found in the Greek text, see W. Kappler, Maccabaeorum libri I–IV, fasc. 1. Maccabaeorum liber I [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936], 61). As Pomykala observes, and as Goldstein himself implictly admits, this difference in meaning does not in fact stem from the difference between the singular and the plural, so much as it does from the fact that this phrase has two possible interpretations, whether it is in the singular or the plural. 165 The Davidic Dynasty Tradition, 158.

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Herodian period, and the evolution it exhibits was specific to the Herodian context in the first century B.C.E.166 In other words, this type of messianic hope was not attested in the second century B.C.E. It is also worth observing that there is a difference of tone in the way David is praised in 1 Maccabees and the Wisdom of Ben Sira. Although Ben Sira does mention David’s love of God, what it really emphasizes are his accomplishments as a military commander and his feats on the battlefield – the kingdom he obtained in recompense is only alluded to in v. 12 (Sir 47:1–12). There is a similar difference in tone between 1 Maccabees and the Wisdom of Ben Sira on the subject of Joshua: however, although David and his exploits are mentioned directly and indirectly elsewhere in 1 Maccabees, this is not the case with Joshua. According to Arie van der Kooij, the character that incarnates the Davidic inheritance most explicitly in 1 Maccabees is Judas Maccabeus: in other words, Judas is presented as a new David.167 In reality, however, the references to the biblical past used to describe Judas Maccabeus range from Judah, son of Jacob, to Solomon, Saul, Jonathan and David. Later, these references are used in connection with Judas, Jonathan, and Simon, as opposed to Judas alone. The description of Judas in 1 Macc 3:4 (“And he resembled a lion in his works and was like a whelp roaring in the hunt”) recalls the benediction of Judah in Gen 49:9: “Judah is a lion’s whelp; from the prey, my son, you have gone up. He crouches down, he stretches out like a lion, like a lioness – who dares rouse him up?” It may be that this allusion should be understood to include the previous verse: “Judah, your brothers shall praise you; your hand shall be on the neck of your enemies; your father’s sons shall bow down before you” (Gen 49:8). Alternatively, it may include the next verse, which predicts that “the sceptre shall not depart from Judah” until the arrival of the “Shilo.” Did the author wish to create an association between Judas Maccabeus and the mysterious figure of the Shilo? As for the connection between Judas and David, the author points to it again in the prayer that Judas says at Beth-Zur, as his troops are about to go into battle against Lysias and be outnumbered six to one by the Seleucid army (1 Macc 4:28–29): “Blessed are you, the savior of Israel, who smashed the attack of the powerful one168 by the hand of your slave David and delivered the camp of the allophyles (ἀλλόφυλοι) into the hands of Jonathan son 166 “PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius,” JSJ 40/4–5 (2009): 465–492. 167 Van der Kooij, “The Claim of Maccabean Leadership,” 45–46. See also von Dobbeler, Die Bücher 1/2 Makkabäer, 44–46; H. Lichtenberger, “Geschichtsschreibung und Geschichtserzählung im 1. und 2. Makkabäerbuch,“ in Die antike Historiographie und die Anfänge der christlichen Geschichtsschreibung (ed. E.- M. Becker; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2005), 197–212; J. W. van Henten, “The Song of Praise for Judas Maccabaeus: Some Remarks on I Maccabees 3:3–9,” in Give Ear to my Words: Psalms and other Poetry in and around the Hebrew Bible. Essays in Honour of Professor N.A. van Uchelen (ed. J. Dyk et al.; Amsterdam: Societas Hebraica Amstelodamensis, 1996), 200–206. 168 The Hebrew term ‫( גבור‬gibor) probably lies behind the word δυνατός; see my analysis of 1 Macc 9:21 (infra).

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of Saul and of the bearer of his armor” (1 Macc 4:30). The speech makes clear references to the confrontation between David and Goliath, during the wars between Israel and the Philistines (ἀλλόφυλοι in the LXX) in 1 Sam 17:4–54, and to the exploits of Jonathan and “the young man who carried his armor,” when they caused havoc in a Philistine garrison in 1 Sam 14:1–23.169 There may also be another reference to the combat between David and Goliath in the scene where Judas beheads Nicanor (1 Sam 17:51 [ἀφεῖλεν τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ] and 54; cf. 1 Macc 7:47: τὴν κεφαλὴν Νικάνορος ἀφεῖλον). The recurrent use of the term ἀλλόφυλοι, which is almost systematically the translation used for “Philistines” in the LXX,170 helps to ground 1 Maccabees in the memory of the wars waged by Saul, Jonathan, and David.171 Finally, when Judas dies, the lamentations of the people echo those that greeted the deaths of Saul and Jonathan: “How did he fall, the mighty savior of Israel?” (Πῶς ἔπεσεν δυνατὸς σῴζων τὸν Ισραηλ, 1 Macc 9:21; cf. 2 Sam 1:19: ‫איך‬ ‫נפלו גבורים‬, πῶς ἔπεσαν δυνατοί; and 2 Sam 1:27, which uses the same language). The deeds of Judas are also modelled on those of Solomon. Not only does Judas recapture Zion (as David before him, according to 2 Sam 5:6–10), but he also reclaims the sanctuary, before purifying, reconstructing, and embellishing it (1 Macc 4:47–49 and 57). When he restores the cult and when the dedication of the altar is celebrated for eight days in a row (1 Macc 4:56), Judas takes on the appearance of a new Solomon: these acts echo the founding events of the construction and the dedication of the temple and its altar in the opening chapters of the First Book of Kings, which ends on the celebration of a seven-day long festival (1 Kgs 8:66).172 If the memory of Solomon was associated with the construction of the temple and royal palace, it was also linked with the erection of new structures in general, as 1 Kgs 9:15 reminds us: “This is the account of the forced labour that King Solomon conscripted to build the house of the Lord and his own house, the Millo and the wall of Jerusalem, Hazor, Megiddo, Gezer.” Now Judas is also described as a builder, as suggests this passage of 1 Maccabees, which comes immediately after the dedication of the sanctuary:

169 Compare 1 Macc 4:30 and 1 Sam 14:1.6–7. As Jan Willem van Henten points out, David and Judas are also associated through a stylistic parallel between 1 Macc 3:3 and 1 Sam 17:5 LXX (“The Song of Praise for Judas Maccabaeus,” 203). 170 There are only 4 exceptions out of 272 occurrences of this term: Exod 34:15 and Isa 2:6, where this word translates the Hebrew word ‫ ;נכרי‬Isa 61:5, where it translates ‫ ;בני נכר‬and 1 Sam 6:10 where it translates ‫אנשים‬. 171 See 1 Macc 3:41; 4:12.22.26.30; 5:15.66.68; 11:68.74. 172 On the discrepancy betwen the length of the festival of the dedication under Solomon (1 Kgs 8) and of Hanukkah (seven and eight respectively), see V. Noam, “The Miracle of the Cruse of Oil,” HUCA 73 (2003): 191–226; and Megillat Ta‘anit: Versions, Interpretation, History, with a Critical Edition (Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 2003), 266–276 (Heb.); Regev, The Hasmoneans, 46, n. 32. s

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And they constructed at that time all around Mount Sion high walls and fortified towers so that the nations would not return and trample them down as they did before. 61 And he stationed a force there to defend it, and he fortified it to defend Baithsoura so that the people would have a fortress facing Idumea. (4:60–61; trans. Zervos, NETS, 485)

Later, following in the footsteps of Judas, Jonathan, and – more especially – Simon, also become builders of new structures and fortifications around Judea (1 Macc 12:35–38). Following the death of Jonathan, Simon is introduced as having “fortified the temple mount beside the citadel,” after driving out the enemies of the Acra; he also decides to commemorate the liberation of the citadel with a day of celebration, which creates a kind of parallel with the feast on the twenty-fifth day of Kislev (1 Macc 14:49–52).173 Finally, the account of Simon’s rule as a period of peace and prosperity recalls the idyllic description of Solomon’s rule in 1 Kgs 5. Indeed, 1 Macc 14:12 (“And everyone sat under their own vine and their own fig tree, and there was no one to frighten them”),174 in particular, brings to mind 1 Kgs 5:5 (“During Solomon’s lifetime Judah and Israel lived in safety, from Dan even to Beer-sheba, all of them under their vines and fig trees”). From its portrait of Judas to the picture it paints of Simon, 1 Maccabees thus represents the Hasmoneans as the inheritors of David and Solomon, even if Judas is the focus of the greatest number of biblical allusions.175 The formula that the author of 1 Maccabees inserts in the text following the death of Judas is also typically biblical: “And the rest of the words of Judas and of the battles and heroic acts which he did and of his greatness were not written down for they were very many” (1 Macc 9:22).176 Indeed, the book closes on a similar sentence, this time in connection with John Hyrcanus (1 Macc 16:23), thus creating a chiastic structure, in the middle of which stand Jonathan and Simon. The text’s portrayal of the Hasmoneans as the heirs to the heroes of the past is the main reason for these references to the biblical past and to great figures such as the kings of Israel and Judah. Several scholars have observed that the legitimation of the Hasmonean dynasty was one of the functions of 1 Maccabees, making

173 The reconstruction of the walls of Jerusalem also recalls the model of Nehemiah; see Honig­man, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 95–97 and 111–114; see also Part I, section 5 (infra). 174 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 499. 175 Diego Arenhoevel also considers that there is a parallel between the investiture of Simon by the people in 1 Macc 14:41 and 2 Sam 5:1–3, when the elders come to David, requesting that he be anointed king since he was chosen by God (“Die Eschatologie der Makkabäerbucher,” TTZ 72 [1963]: 257–269, esp. 262). 176 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 491. Compare with 1 Kgs 11:41; 14:29; 15:31; etc. 1 Macc 7:41 also includes another reference to the period of the kings, when Judas alludes in a prayer to the angel of the Lord who saved Jerusalem from the Assyrians, in the days of Hezekiah’s rule (2 Kgs 19:35).

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this book at least in part a work of “propaganda.”177 According to Arie van der Kooij, the need to justify the fact that the titles of high priest and king were being held conjointly by the same person is one of the reasons why 1 Maccabees creates a monarchic paradigm emphasizing the Davidic elements of the narrative.178 However, in view of the work’s large number of references and allusions, it seems most likely that, like other books dating from the Second temple period – the Books of Chronicles, for example – 1 Maccabees exhibits what Jeremy Corley rather anachronistically terms a process of “canonical assimilation.” This phrase describes the practice of associating the characteristics of figures from earlier traditions with contemporary characters through a process of accretion and superimposition.179 This is why Judas appears to be a new Judah, but also a new David taking on the Seleucid Goliath, and a new Solomon dedicating the altar. This does not mean, however, that Judas considered that he had been entrusted with the mission to reconquer the territories that, according to the Bible, were part of the kingdom of David and Solomon, since the author does not suggest anywhere in the book that he harboured such a project.180 The primary goal of the references to royal figures

177 See J. A. Goldstein, “How the Authors of 1 and 2 Maccabees Treated the ‘Messia­ nic’ Promises,” in Judaisms and Their Messiahs at the Turn of the Christian Era (ed. J. Neusner et al.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 69–96 (see 73); idem, I Maccabees, 12, 33, 240–241; D. Arenhoevel, Die Theokratie nach dem 1. und 2. Makkabäerbuch (Mainz: Matthias-Grünewald Verlag, 1967), 40; Bartlett, The First and Second Books of the Maccabees, 18 and 213; H. W. Attridge, “Historiography,” in Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period: Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Qumran Sectarian Writings, Philo, Josephus (ed. M. E. Stone; Minneapolis–Assen: Fortress Press–Van Gorcum, 1984), 157–184 (see 172); Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 48–50; Mendels, Memory in Jewish, Pagan and Christian Societies of the Graeco-Roman World, 81–88; Philippe Abadie writes that “… la référence scripturaire et son utilisation change d’objectif: il ne s’agit plus de reconnaître dans l’histoire l’agir d’un Dieu libérateur, mais de doter d’une couronne scripturaire une dynastie dépourvue autrement de toute légitimité, hors celle des armes victorieuses” (“Le Premier Livre des Maccabées: une écriture entre mémoire et relecture,” 156). 178 Van der Kooij, “The Claim of Maccabean Leadership,” 47 and 49. He adds, after Doron Mendels, that the emphasis placed on their royal status in 1 Macccabees should be seen in light of their liberation of the Judeans from the yoke of the Seleucids and their conquest of Judah “as did David before them.” However, it is not clear whether the reference to David always implied territorial considerations: certainly, this does not seem to be the case in 1 Maccabees. Arie van der Kooij also writes, more judiciously in my view, that the need of the Hasmoneans to be on an equal footing with the leaders of neighbouring countries probably played a greater role in their claims to Davidic legitimacy than any desire they might have had to recreate a kingdom stretching all the way to the Euphrates (ibid., 47). 179 See J. Corley, “Canonical Assimilation,” esp. 58–60. He shows that in Chronicles, the construction of the figure of David is based on a web of references to Moses and his actions; in particular, “the Chronicler’s depiction of the transmission of royal power from David to Solomon is partly modeled on the transfer of leadership from Moses to Joshua in Deuteronomy-Joshua” (59). 180 See Part I, section 2 (supra).

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in the book, was the legitimation of the Hasmonean rule in the eyes of Judean society and the people of Israel as a whole.

4. The wars against non-Judean peoples: Judeans versus Canaanites? 4.1 The prescriptions concerning the Canaanites in the Bible We must begin by recalling the biblical prescriptions concerning the Canaanites, in order to be able to evaluate properly the scholarly commentaries which argue that Judas Maccabeus brought back the policy calling for ․herem warfare against local indigenous peoples, as in Joshua’s time, or the view that the Hasmoneans in general were inspired by the biblical laws on wars of conquest.181 We must distinguish between three separate biblical traditions, at the very least.

Scenario No 1: the expulsion of the Canaanites

In the first of these traditions, the Canaanites are to be driven out of the land that God promised to his people, and their places and objects of worship destroyed. The commandment to expel (‫ )גרש‬the Canaanites is very clearly stated in Exod 23:20– 24.27–33, and this tradition, which is part of the “Covenant Code” (Exod 21–23), is also the oldest.182 The reason why it was necessary to expel the Canaanites and to destroy their places of worship was the fear that Canaanite idols might corrupt the Israelites if they adopted their cults and practices. The Book of Leviticus also warns the Israelites of the fatal consequences of imitating Canaanite practices (see for example Lev 18:1–4 and 26–30): however, this book does not explicitly state that it is forbidden to allow the Canaanites to remain in the land because of the danger they pose to the Israelites. The Book of Exodus gives the 181 Moshe Weinfeld’s analysis of this question remains authoritative today; see in particular, “The Period of the Conquest and of the Judges as Seen by the Earlier and the Later Sources,” VT 17/1 (1967): 93–113; “The Ban on the Canaanites in the Biblical Codes;” and especially The Promise of the Land: The Inheritance of the Land of Canaan by the Israelites, which includes several of his works on this question. On the biblical traditions focusing on the Canaanites, see also D. R. Hillers, “Analyzing the Abominable: Our Understanding of Canaanite Religion,” JQR 75/3 (1985): 253–269; R. L. Cohn, “Before Israel: The Canaanites as Other in Biblical Tradition,” in The Other in Jewish Thought and History. Constructions of Jewish Culture and Identity (L. J. Silberstein and R. L. Cohn, eds; New York–London: New York University Press, 1994), 74–90; B. J. Schwartz, “Reexamining the Fate of the ‘Canaanites’ in the Torah Traditions,” in Sefer Moshe: The Moshe Weinfeld Jubilee Volume (ed. Ch. Cohen; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2004), 151–170. 182 See “The Ban on the Canaanites,” 142; J. I. Durham, Exodus (Waco: Word Books, 1987), 334–336; C. Houtman, Exodus. Vol. 3: Chapters 20–40 (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 270–280; T. B. Dozeman, Exodus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 554–560.

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impression that the only problem with the Canaanites is that they worship their idols in close geographic and physical proximity to the people of Israel. In other words, there is no need to annihilate them: their departure should be enough to put some distance between them and the sons of Israel. In Num 33, however, the danger posed by the Canaanites is described in primarily political and military terms, as opposed to religious: “Those whom you let remain shall be as barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides; they shall trouble you in the land where you are settling” (Num 33:55).183 Although it is possible, reading between the lines, to argue that this passage alludes to the notion of religious corruption, its focus is primarily on skirmishes, attacks, etc. In other words, the reasons given for the expulsion of the Canaanites vary from one book to the next, even if moral and religious justifications dominate.

Scenario No 2: h.erem warfare or the extermination of the Canaanites

The second scenario described in the Pentateuch calls for the extermination (h ․erem) of the Canaanite peoples, a practice which is also attested in ancient non-biblical Middle Eastern sources, notably in the inscription engraved on a stele erected by king Mesha of Moab (ninth century B.C.E.) which states that the king put the Israelite city of Nebo to the ban.184 In the biblical corpus, the law of ․herem is a characteristic of Deuteronomy and Deuteronomistic historiography.185 However, the 183 As Moshe Weinfeld rightly observes, this political argument sets Numbers apart from Exodus and Deuteronomy, where the justification for the ban on the Canaanites is religious. See “The Ban on the Canaanites,” 145–148; Deuteronomy 1–11 (AB 5; New York: Doubleday, 1991), 382–384. 184 On h.erem and its relationship with a sacrifice (which is a different thing), or vow, see M. Greenberg, “H. erem,” in Encyclopaedia Judaica (Jerusalem: Encyclopaedia Judaica, 1972), 8:344–350; N. Lohfink, “H.âram; h.erem,” in Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1986), 5:180–199; S. Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible: A Study in the Ethics of Violence (New York–Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 28–77; C. Schäfer-­ Lichtenberger, “Bedeutung und Funktion von H.erem in biblisch-hebräischen Texten,” Biblische Zeitschrift 38/2 (1994): 270–75; R. D. Nelson, “H.erem and Deuteronomic Social Conscience,” in Deuteronomy and Deuteronomic Literature. Festschrift C. H. W. Brekelmans (BETL 133; J. Lust and M. Vervenne, eds; Leuven: Leuven University Press–Peeters, 1997), 39–54; A. Lemaire, “Le h.erem dans le monde nord-ouest sémitique,” in Guerre et conquête dans le Proche-Orient ancien (Paris: J. Maisonneuve, 1999), 79–92; Y. Hoffman, “The Deuteronomistic Concept of the H ­ . erem,” ZAW 111 (1999): 196–210; H. Dae Park, Finding H. erem? A Study of Luke–Acts in the Light of H. erem (London: T&T Clark, 2007); C. L. Crouch, War and Ethics in the Ancient Near East: Military V ­ iolence in Light of Cosmology and History (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009), 174–189. 185 On Deuteronomy and Deuteronomistic historiography, see T. Römer, “Approches exégétiques du Deutéronome. Brève histoire de la recherche sur le Deutéronome depuis Martin Noth,” RHPR 75/2 (1995):153–175; A. de Pury et T. Römer, “L’historiographie deutéronomiste (HD). Histoire de la recherche et enjeux du débat,“ in Israël construit son histoire. L’historio­graphie deutéronomiste à la lumière des recherches récentes (ed. T. Römer et al.; Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1996), 9–120. On h.erem and holy war, see in particular particulier R. Schmitt, Der “Heilige Krieg”

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notion of ․herem against the Canaanites also surfaces in the Book of Numbers, in the context of a confrontation with the king of Arad (21:1–3). Indeed, the fate that befalls Sihon, king of the Amorites, after he refuses to allow the Israelites to pass through his territory, and then Og, king of Bashan, also recalls ․herem: the Israelites put the cities of the Amorites to the sword and took possession of their land, before moving on to the territory of Og, once again leaving no survivors behind them and seizing their land (Num 21:21–35). Although in the Book of Numbers there is no mention of ․herem in the context of Sihon and Og, this word does appear in the account of the same episode in Deuteronomy (Deut 2:34). The law of ․herem is formulated in detail in Deut 7:1–6, in a passage which echoes and rephrases several elements from Exod 23:186 1 When the Lord your God brings you into the land that you are about to enter and occupy, and he clears away (‫ )ונשל‬many nations before you – the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations mightier and more numerous than you – 2 and when the Lord your God gives them over to you and you defeat them, then you must utterly destroy them (‫)החרם תחרים‬. Make no covenant with them and show them no mercy. 3 Do not intermarry with them, giving your daughters to their sons or taking their daughters for your sons, 4 for that would turn away your children from following me, to serve other gods. Then the anger of the Lord would be kindled against you, and he would destroy you quickly. 5 But this is how you must deal with them: break down (‫)תתצו‬ their altars, smash (‫ )תשברו‬their pillars, hew down (‫ )תגדעון‬their sacred poles, and burn their idols with fire. 6 For you are a people holy to the Lord your God; the Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on earth to be his people, his treasured possession. (Deut 7:1–6)187 e

The law of ․herem is associated with the prescription to destroy the places and objects of worship of the Canaanites, as in the tradition of Exodus. The fear of contamination from idolatrous practices is very strong in Deuteronomy, and the law of ․herem seeks to prevent contact between the Israelites and the local population – especially marriage, which might inevitably lead some Israelites to adopt the cults and lifestyles of the Canaanites. Like the other books in the Pentateuch, Deuteronomy justifies the fate of the Canaanites by pointing to their abominations, idolatrous practices and immorality (7:25; 9:4; 12:31; 18:9–13). im Pentateuch und im deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk: Studien zur Forschungs-, Rezeptionsund Religionsgeschichte von Krieg und Bann im Alten Testament (Alter Orient und Alter Testament; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2011), 381. 186 For a detailed comparison of these two texts, see M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 379–82. For a diametrically different interpretation of the relationship between these two texts (which argues that Exod 23:20–33 is a Deuteronomic revision), see R. Schmitt, Der “Heilige Krieg” im Pentateuch und im deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk, 87–89. 187 A small variant of Deut 7:4 is found in a Qumran manuscript, 4Q30 4 1, where the words “your God” follow the tetragram.

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The law of ․herem and its justification are also invoked in chapter 20 of Deuteronomy, in a passage detailing the rules of warfare against the cities located inside and outside Canaan. Terms of peace can be offered to the cities that lie outside of Canaan, if they surrender and accept to be submitted to forced labour (v. 11: ‫יהיו‬ ‫)לך למס ועבדוך‬ – however, if they put up a resistance, the males should be killed and the women and children taken prisoner.188 In contrast: as for the cities of these peoples that the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance, you must not let anything that breathes remain alive. 17 You shall annihilate them (‫( )החרם תחרימם‬LXX: ἀναθέματι ἀναθεματιεῖτε) – the Hittites and the Amorites, the Canaanites and the Perizzites, the Hivites and the Jebusites – just as the Lord your God has commanded, 18 so that they may not teach you to do all the abhorrent things that they do for their gods, and you thus sin against the Lord your God. (Deut 20:16–18)189

The Book of Joshua follows in the steps of Deuteronomy: it describes the application of the law of ․herem in the context of the conquests of Jericho, Ai, and several other Canaanite cities. In Jericho, the Israelites “devoted to destruction by the edge of the sword all in the city, both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and donkeys” (Josh 6:21). In Ai, Joshua orders the death of the city’s 12,000 residents, but keeps their cattle and possessions (Josh 8:25–26). Then, when Joshua and his troops reach the southern cities of the “five kings of the Amorites” (Josh 10:5), they systematically put their residents to the ban, leaving no survivors (see for example Josh 10:28). Similarly, they eradicate the entire population of Eglon and Hebron (10:35 and 37). In short, “Joshua defeated the whole land, the hill country and the Negeb and the lowland and the slopes, and all their kings; he left no one remaining, but utterly destroyed all that breathed (‫)ואת כל הנשמה החרים‬, as the Lord God of Israel commanded” (10:40). Later, the account of the capture of Hazor leads to a description of Joshua seizing and putting to the ban all the cities of the Canaanites (Josh 11:12). Eventually, in Josh 11:20, the text portrays the Canaanites in the following terms: “For it was the Lord’s doing to harden their hearts so that they would come against Israel in battle, in order that they might 188 See Deut 20:10–14.19–20 and the comparison that Abraham Malamat draws between this passage and Assyrian texts in “Distant Lands and Cities as a Specific Category in International Relations in the Bible and in the Ancient Near East,” in History of Biblical Israel. Major Problems and Minor Issues (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 406–410. 189 Scholars are more or less agreed that vv. 15–18 constitute a later addition, the post-exilic Deuteronomic revision of a military code, parts of which may in fact predate the redaction of Deuteronomy. See A. Rofé, “The Laws of Warfare in the Book of Deuteronomy: Their Origins, Intent and Positivity,” JSOT 32 (1985): 23–44, esp. 28–30 and 36–39. His argument is supported by Nelson, “H.erem and Deuteronomic Social Conscience,” 52, and Hoffman, “The Deuteronomistic Concept of the H.erem,” 201–202. Deut 7:1–5 is also considered to be a later addition (Hoffman, ibid., 202). Indeed, it is possible to consider that all the passages transmitting the ideology of h ­. erem are the work of a later redactor.

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be utterly destroyed, and might receive no mercy, but be exterminated, just as the Lord had commanded Moses.”190 There is another mention of ․herem warfare against the Canaanites at the opening of the Book of Judges (1:17).191 On the whole, however, this terminology is rarely used after Joshua 11. This being said the destruction of the Canaanites is not always called ․herem. The language used to describe extermination varies. In Deut 7:1, the verb ‫( נשל‬ἐξαίρω in the Septuagint) is used to describe the way God “clears away” Canaanites from the land; in Deut 8:20, when it is the turn of the Israelites to be threatened with eradication, like the Canaanites before them, this is conveyed with the verb ‫ אבד‬in the hifil (ἀπόλλυμι in the Septuagint, which sometimes also translates ‫להוריש‬, to “dispossess”).192 In Deut 31:3, the verb ‫שמד‬ in the hifil (ἐξολεθρεύω in the Septuagint) is used when God promises to destroy the Canaanites before the Israelites. In general, however, the language of ․herem is more widespread.

Scenario No 3: slavery or “forced labour”

Whatever the historical origins of the ideology of ․herem may have been, the fact remains that according to several biblical texts, not only was this utopian programme never realized, but the Canaanites remained on the land after its conquest and became “assimilated” in Israelite society. In other words, the biblical texts outline a third scenario for the fate of the Canaanites. Moshe Weinfeld argues, after Abraham Biram, that the prescription of ․herem against Canaanite cities in Deut 20:16–18 in fact was the reinterpretation of an earlier law prescribing forced labour for the Canaanites if they accepted to make peace with Israel, as in the case of the cities located outside Canaan in Deut 20:10–14.193 Moreover, on a historical level, Biram and Weinfeld argue that the Canaanites were neither massacred nor expelled, but submitted to forced labour inside Israel, as in 1 Kgs 9:20–21.194 Beyond the paradoxical case of the Gibeonites (Josh 9),195 the 190 These lines bring to mind the way God hardens Pharaoh’s heart in Exod 4:21; 7:13.22; 8:15; etc. See R. D. Nelson, Joshua: A Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), 155. 191 This verse, which stands out from the rest of the Book of Judges, draws on Num 21:3. See W. Groß, Richter (Freiburg: Herder, 2009), 3:136–137. 192 See Num 33:52. 193 A. Biram, “Mas ‘obed,” Tarbiz 23/3–4 (1944): 137–42 (Heb.). 194 See Biram, who argues that this was especially true in the “country of Ephraim” (“Mas ‘obed,” 141–142); and Weinfeld, “The Ban on the Canaanites,” 152–53; idem, The Promise of the Land, 96–97. 195 The Gibeonites were Hivites who cunningly managed to remain in the land of Canaan by pretending to be outsiders and agreeing to be submitted to forced labour (see Josh 9, esp. vv. 23 and 27). They introduced themselves to Joshua as his “servants” (Josh 9:8–9.11), as though referring to the Deuteronomic law regarding the cities located outside of Canaan (Deut

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first explicit mention of the theme of forced labour occurs in Josh 16:10 – i. e. in the second part of the book, where the continued presence of Canaanite communities on the land is used to deconstruct the triumphalist perspective on the conquest of the land presented in the first twelve chapters: “[The sons of Ephraim] did not, however, drive out the Canaanites who lived in Gezer: so the Canaanites have lived within Ephraim to this day but have been made to do forced labour (‫)ויהי למס עבד‬.” Similarly, following the failure of the descendants of Manasseh to take possession of the cities that were attributed to them (Josh 17:11–13), we are told that “when the Israelites grew strong, they put the Canaanites to forced labour (‫)ויתנו את הכנעני למס‬, but did not utterly drive them out” (17:13). The same phrases are repeated in Judges 1:27–35, and we are told in Judges 3:5 that “So the Israelites lived among the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites.”196 There are very few references to the Canaanites in later biblical texts, although they are mentioned in the context of the reigns of Solomon and David. When David orders a census of the people of Israel (2 Sam 24), the king’s emissaries travel to the area around Sidon, and “to the fortress of Tyre and to all the cities of the Hivites and Canaanites” (2 Sam 24:7). This implies at the very least that there were still Canaanite settlements on the Phoenician coast.197 We also find indirect confirmation in 1 Kgs 9:16 that under Solomon’s rule there were still Canaanites living in Gezer (cf. Josh 16:10), since this passage relates the capture of the city and the killing of the Canaanites by Pharaoh king of Egypt, who then gave the city in dowry to his daughter, Solomon’s bride. Later, in the context of his large-scale building projects in Jerusalem, Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer, Solomon submits the descendants of the Canaanites to forced labour:

20:10–14). In fact, the whole chapter bears the stamp of the Deuteronomic redactor, as Nelson observes (­Joshua. A Commentary, 124), rightly emphasising the ambiguity of this episode: “By negative example, it encourages Israel to obey deuteronomic law about foreign entanglements and to seek the will of God about them. Yet it also encourages acceptance of the troublesome status quo, for the Gibeonites are permitted to live and given a place in the social system. In the next chapter, even Yahweh will fight to protect them” (132). 196 Walter Groß rightly observes that “Nicht diese Völker wohnen weiterhin inmitten Israels, sondern die Israeliten wohnen inmitten dieser Völker.” Moreover, the reference to six peoples, and in particular the Jebusites, implies that the peoples in question were not simply settled on the margins of the promised land, but also in central areas (Groß, Richter, 209–211; the quotation is on p. 211). 197 On these lines, see S. Abramsky, “The Attitude Towards the Emorite and the Jebusite in the Book of Samuel. The Historical Foundation and the Ideological Significance,” Zion 50 (1985): 27–58 (Heb.). He considers that, on the whole, the historical context reflected in the Book of Samuel points to cordial relations between Israel and the descendants of the Canaanites, and cites as evidence 1 Sam 7:14, in particular.

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20 All the people who were left of the Amorites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, who were not of the people of Israel – 21 their descendants who were still left in the land, whom the Israelites were unable to destroy completely – these Solomon conscripted for slave labour, and so they are to this day. (1 Kgs 9:20–21).

Oddly enough, Solomon’s decision is presented as an innovation, as though the Canaanites settled on the land had not been submitted to forced labour before.198 It might seem possible to surmise that the “slave labour” to which Solomon subjects them differed from the bondage into which they were forced in the days of the conquest: however, the use of the phrase “forced labor” in Josh 16:10 seems to suggest otherwise. The version transmitted by the Septuagint differs slightly from the Masoretic Text.199 The Septuagint’s translation of mas ‘oved as phoros does not point to forced labour so much as to a levy or tax. In fact, as Adrian Schenker has shown, the Hebrew Vorlage of the Septuagint gives a more coherent, and probably older, account of Solomon’s policy towards the Canaanites. In 3 Kingdoms 10:23 (which corresponds to 1 Kgs 9:15), the Septuagint does not mention forced labour, but “the provision of the resources that king Solomon needed to build the house of the Lord (etc.)” (ἡ πραγματεία τῆς προνομῆς ἧς ἀνήνεγκεν ὁ βασιλεὺς Σαλωμων οἰκοδομῆσαι τὸν οἶκον κυρίου, my translation). In the Septuagint, this passage must be understood in the context of the resources that Solomon needed to complete his building projects. In accordance with 1 Kgs 9:16, according to which the Canaanites in Gezer were so powerful that Pharaoh had to launch an expedition against them, the portrayal of the Canaanites in the Septuagint suggests that they still had a certain amount of military power. Solomon’s efforts to fortify the land were primarily directed at protecting it from the internal political danger that the Canaanites posed to the Israelites. The imposition of forced labour or a levy on the 198 Various commentators have sought to establish a connection between the Gibeonites that Joshua submitted to forced labour and the Canaanites who were settled on the land in the days of Solomon. However, this connection is difficult to prove. The historicity of Josh 9 is problematic. See J. Blenkinsopp, Gibeon and Israel: The Role of Gibeon and the Gibeonites in the Political and Religious History of Early Israel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 28–40, esp. 35–36 (he admits the historicity of the treaty itself); A. D. H. Mayes, “Deuteronomy 29, Joshua 9, and the Place of the Gibeonites in Israel,” in Das Deuteronomium (ed. N. Lohfink: Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1985), 321–325 (he considers that Josh 9 is the basis for Deut 29, where the Gibeonites have become gerim integrated into Israel); J. Briend, “Israël et les Ga­ baonites,” in La protohistoire d’Israël: de l’Exode à la monarchie (ed. E.-M. Laperrousaz; Paris, Cerf, 1990), 121–182; and H. Rösel’s more cautious observations in “Anmerkungen zur Erzählung vom Bundesschluss mit den Gibeoniten, ” BN 28 (1985): 30–35. Following in the footsteps of Jacques Briend, who associates the narrative presented in Josh 9 with the rules of Saul and later of Solomon (“Israël et les Gabaonites,” 155 and 166), Richard D. Nelson suggests that the predicament of the Gibeonites described in Josh 9 reflects their situation during different periods in the history of Israel, first under Saul and later under Solomon (Joshua: A Commentary, 127–128). 199 Unlike the MT, for example, it lists the seven peoples of Canaan, including the Canaanites and the Girgashites.

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Canaanites served to keep them in a state of subjection. Contrary to the Septuagint, however, the redaction of the MT erases the traces of “the troubling power that these peoples still held within the Davidic and Solomonic kingdom itself, choosing instead to exalt the incontrovertible power of Solomon, in accordance with such passages as 1 Kgs 5:4–5; 5:17–18.”200 It may be that we should understand the malediction of Canaan in Gen 9, in connection with the period of David and Solomon. The passage in question is as follows: “He said: ‘Cursed be Canaan; lowest of slaves shall he be to his brothers’. He also said, ‘Blessed by the Lord my God be Shem; and let Canaan be his slave. May God make space for Japhet, and let him live in the tents of Shem; and let Canaan be his slave (‫( ”’)ויהי כנען עבד למו‬Gen 9:25–27). Although the biblical texts do not explicitly make a connection between this curse and the eventual fate of the descendants of Canaan, the assumption that they are related nevertheless spontaneously comes to mind, as the rewritings and commentaries by Jewish authors of the Second Temple period also suggest.201 The story of the curse that Noah put on Canaan appears to be an etiologic myth invented at a later stage in order to “justify” the fate of the descendants of Canaan. According to this myth of origins, the fate of the Canaanites was slavery or servitude, not expulsion or extermination. In other words, it is worth asking whether there is a connection between Genesis 9 and the accounts of the “forced labor” to which the Canaanites are subjected in the Books of Joshua, Judges, Kings, and Chronicles. Let us begin by recalling that, according to Josh 9:23, Joshua cursed the Gibeonites when he discovered their deception, and this malediction is the reason why they are reduced to being “hewers of wood” and “drawers of water,” as they also are in Gen 9. Although the word mas and the phrase mas ‘oved do not appear in Josh 9, this passage clearly alludes to servitude or forced labour. More generally, it is not possible to determine with certainty the connection between the fate promised to the descendants of Canaan – slavery – and the notion of “forced labour” (mas ‘oved) in the texts in which the Canaanites dwelling in the midst of the Israelites are mentioned. However, it seems likely that these traditions are connected, and that at some stage, which is difficult to date with any precision, a mythical narrative describing the sins of the Canaanites’ ancestors was used to justify the servitude of – all or some of – these peoples. This very brief summary of the three main scenarios envisaged in the biblical traditions regarding the Canaanites (expulsion; ․herem; the imposition of servility or forced labour) will I hope have shown just how complex and specific these tra200 A. Schenker, “Corvée ou ressources de Salomon? TM 1 Rois 9, 15–23 et LXX Règnes 10, 23–25,” Revue des Sciences Religieuses 73/2 (1999): 151–164; the quotation, translated from the French, is on p. 163. For Moshe Weinfeld, the biblical passages touching on the gerim concerned the descendants of the Canaanites, who were not genealogically part of the people of Israel but nevertheless lived in their midst (“The Ban on the Canaanites,” 154). 201 See for example Philo, Quaest. Gen. 2:65; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 1.138–142.

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ditions are. Amalek, whose memory has to be erased (Exod 17:8–19), is another special case. The redactors of the Books of Samuel and Kings do not seem to have confused the Philistines with the Canaanites or the Amalekites, for example. Similarly, the authors of the Books of Esdras and Nehemiah do not appear to have prescribed ․herem warfare against “the peoples of the land,” despite their deep feelings of hostility towards them. The very supposition that the Hasmoneans may have wished to apply the law of ․herem to non-Jewish peoples settled in Judea or in certain regions in Judea’s vicinity thus raises major historical and methodological issues. If we look at the Hellenistic period, we must distinguish between the rejection of idolatry, which seems to have been widespread among the Judean population, and a genuinely systematic religious policy of expulsion or extermination against the peoples settled around Judea. This is what we shall now examine.

4.2 The war practices of Judas Maccabeus and his brothers: an attempt to put Deuteronomy 20 into practice? Many are those who argue that there is a correlation between the biblical prescriptions concerning the Canaanites and the policy (or policies) of the Hasmoneans.202 Recently, Kai Trampedach has argued that the Hasmonean wars should be divided into three different categories: 1) the wars of annihilation waged by Judas and Jonathan; 2) the wars of expulsion (waged by Simon, especially); 3) the wars of annexation and concomitant forced conversions which sought to assimilate or incorporate the populations of the conquered territories into the Judean population (from John Hyrcanus onwards).203 In other words, according to him, the Hasmoneans successively applied the three different biblical strategies for dealing with the seven peoples of Canaan: first, ․herem warfare; then, expulsion; and finally integration into Israel, but with a lower status and the imposition of forced labour (with a new twist, since, in the Hasmonean context, what was at stake from John Hyrcanus onwards was not so much forced labour as the Judaization of nonJudean peoples). However, Trampedach’s classification is problematic for several reasons. For example, the notion that Judas and Jonathan waged “wars of annihilation” is open to contention, since neither of them systematically massacred the non-Jewish populations settled in the land of Israel. 202 As well as the examples which I am about to discuss (and indeed those listed in the introduction), see H. Dae Park, Finding H.erem?, 53–66; and T. R. Elßner, Josua und seine Kriege, 61–63, who also bases his argument on the language used in the Septuagint, and does not actually say whether the Hasmoneans practised h.erem warfare or whether this use of language was merely part of a rhetorical strategy. 203 “The War of the Hasmoneans,” in Dying for the Faith, Killing for the Faith: Old-Testament Faith Warriors (1 and 2 Maccabees) in Historical Perspective (ed. Gabriella Signori; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 61–78.

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Christophe Batsch also shares the view that Judas Maccabeus brought back the law of ․herem: he speaks of the “reactualization of the biblical ․herem” (“réactualisation du ․herem biblique”). This is what he writes about the wars waged by Judas in 1 Macc 5: The destructions all took place on the territory that the Maccabees claimed for Eretz Israel: the case of Idumea shows that these cities had to choose between conversion and h.erem. Indeed, the very fact of refusing to convert was proof that h.erem was called for: either because these individuals were foreigners who had unduly settled with their gods in Eretz Israel (the model presented by the Canaanites), or because they were infidels who had turned their backs on the Covenant (the model presented by apostate Israelite cities). (La guerre et les rites de guerre dans le judaïsme du deuxième Temple, 421)204

Several different elements are amalgamated together in these lines, creating a certain level of confusion. The wars waged by Judas in 1 Macc 5 took place in Transjordan, as we shall see in more detail later (infra). In other words, it would need to be demonstrated that in the eyes of the Maccabees, these cities were located in “Eretz Israel”: however, as I have already mentioned, the borders of “Eretz Israel” are not defined anywhere in the sources on the Hasmoneans. Indeed, the borders of Judea itself are not clearly defined: although this was probably due to their historical fluctuation, this may also have been intentional, in order to leave open the possibility of extending them. Moreover, the example of Idumea and the Judaization of the Idumeans referred to by Batsch did not happen under the rule of Judas but of John Hyrcanus: in this passage, he improperly compounds two different cases, which arose in different contexts. Finally, Batsch does not explain how “conversion” became a possibility, when not only is this idea not mentioned anywhere in the biblical narratives and prescriptions, but it is radically at odds with the prescription of ․herem. Similarly, Israel Shatzman writes that for the author of 1 Maccabees, “the wars of Mattathias and Judas against the Gentiles were an opportune occasion to implement the Deuteronomic laws, and hence were modelled on the wars of Joshua against the Canaanite peoples.”205 Although he admits that Jonathan and Simon pursued distinct policies, he always presents their policies in light of the model of the conquest of Canaan:

204 Original French text: “Ces destructions sont toutes accomplies sur le territoire que les Maccabéens revendiquent pour erets-Israël: l’exemple de l’Idumée montre que le choix offert à ces cités est entre la conversion et le h.erem. Ceux qui refusent la conversion démontrent en effet par là qu’ils relèvent du h.erem: soit comme étrangers indûment installés avec leurs Dieux en erets-Israël (modèle des peuples cananéens); soit comme infidèles refusant de revenir dans le sein de l’Alliance (modèle des cités israélites apostates).” 205 “Jews and Gentiles from Judas Maccabaeus to John Hyrcanus,” 255.

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The decision of Jonathan and Simon not to exterminate the Gentile population of the cities conquered could be justified, for example on the ground that those Gentiles were not one of the seven peoples that Israel was ordained to destroy upon the conquest of the Promised Land. (Shatzman, ibid., 249)

He then immediately adds: But this needs not imply that the descriptions of Judas Maccabaeus’ campaigns that are modelled on the Deuteronomic law of h.erem are false. Rather, the author succeeds in this way to represent a change of policy, which makes sense in view of the different religious and political conditions under which Judas, on the one hand, and Jonathan and Simon, on the other hand, had to conduct their campaigns. (ibid., 250)

In other words, according to Shatzman, it was the political and religious policy of the Hasmoneans to put into application the prescription of ․herem against non-Jewish peoples, even though in practice they had to make concessions, depending on the circumstances at a given moment. In order to gain a better understanding of the policies of the Hasmoneans, we must examine the texts afresh.

4.2.1 The influence of Deuteronomy on 1 Maccabees

I have already mentioned that 1 Maccabees is written in a style which often borrows from biblical texts. Although we no longer have access to the original Hebrew text, some of the turns of phrases we find in the Greek translation recall phrases attested in various versions of the biblical books which were in circulation between the second and the first centuries B.C.E. However, 1 Maccabees also includes references to biblical models which do not exactly reproduce their original formulation. Thus, the ideas of Deuteronomy pervade 1 Maccabees, even though their formulation does not always echo the language used in the versions of Deuteronomy that were known at that time. The zeal for the law, hostility against nonJews, and the practice of ․herem against idolatrous Israelites (i. e. Judeans considered to have forsaken their ancestral laws), in particular, are some of the aspects of 1 Maccabees which are grounded in Deuteronomy. Although the role that this ideology actually played at the start of the revolt has been questioned by some scholars,206 the author’s rhetorical strategy nevertheless appeals to these notions. As with the other biblical references in the book, the references and allusions to 206 See S. Schwartz, “A Note on the Social Type and Political Ideology of the Hasmonean Family”; R. A. Horsley, “The Expansion of Hasmonean Rule in Idumea and Galilee: Toward a Historical Sociology,” in Second Temple Studies III. Studies in Politics, Class and Material Culture (Ph. R. Davies and J. M. Halligan, ed.; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 134–165; B. Nongbri, “The Motivations of the Maccabees and Judean Rhetoric of Ancestral Traditions,” in Ancient Judaism in its Hellenistic Context (ed. C. Bakhos; Leiden: Brill, 2005), 85–111.

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Deuteronomy are mostly located in the opening chapters. The first reference noted by commentators207 is in 1 Macc 1:11: In those days out of Israel came sons, transgressors of the law, and persuaded many, saying, “Let us go and make a covenant with the nations around us, because from the time we separated ourselves from them many evils have found us.” (trans. Zervos, NETS, 480)208

These lines are based on Deuteronomy 13:14, in which ․herem warfare is prescribed against the Israelites who turn away from God in order to worship other gods: “(If you hear it said about one of the cities that the Lord your God is giving you to live in) that scoundrels from among you have gone out and led the inhabitants of the city astray, saying, ‘Let us go and worship other gods’, whom you have not known,” you shall put that city and its population to the ban. In 1 Maccabees, the phrase ἐξῆλθον ἐξ Ισραηλ υἱοὶ παράνομοι (“out of Israel came sons, transgressors of the law”) echoes ἐξήλθοσαν ἄνδρες παράνομοι ἐξ ὑμῶν (“scoundrels from among you have gone out”) in Deut 13:14 LXX. However, the translation of 1 Maccabees is more literal, since the phrase beney Belial (‫בני בליעל‬, “sons of Belial”), which certainly lies in the background of 1 Macc 1:11, is translated as υἱοὶ παράνομοι, rather than ἄνδρες παράνομοι. The formulation of the apostrophe attributed to the impious Jews is also similar: the phrase Πορευθῶμεν καὶ διαθώμεθα διαθήκην μετὰ τῶν ἐθνῶν τῶν κύκλῳ ἡμῶν in 1 Maccabees is modeled on the words Πορευθῶμεν καὶ λατρεύσωμεν θεοῖς ἑτέροις in Deut 13:14 LXX. Although idolatry is mentioned more explicitly in Deuteronomy,209 the idea nevertheless remains the same since the “transgressors of the law” in 1 Macc 1:11 are Judeans who, according to the author of the book, have betrayed the covenant between Israel and God and forsaken the laws of the Torah. The account of Mattathias and Judas’ responses to renegade Israelites in 2:24– 26 and 3:5–6.8 suggests that the author of 1 Maccabees considered that the prescriptions of Deut 13 were programmatic. Thus, 1 Macc 3:8 asserts that Judas “went through the cities of Judah and annihilated the impious from it and turned away wrath from Israel” (καὶ διῆλθεν ἐν πόλεσιν Ιουδα καὶ ἐξωλέθρευσεν ἀσεβεῖς ἐξ αὐτῆς καὶ ἀπέστρεψεν ὀργὴν ἀπὸ Ισραηλ).210 Both Judas and Mattathias are

207 Starting with Grimm, Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 12. 208 Ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις ἐξῆλθον ἐξ Ισραηλ υἱοὶ παράνομοι καὶ ἀνέπεισαν πολλοὺς λέγοντες Πορευθῶμεν καὶ διαθώμεθα διαθήκην μετὰ τῶν ἐθνῶν τῶν κύκλῳ ἡμῶν, ὅτι ἀφ ’ ἧς ἐχωρίσθημεν ἀπ ’ αὐτῶν, εὗρεν ἡμᾶς κακὰ πολλά. 209 The recurrent use in 1 Maccabees of the phrase “the nations around us” recalls Lev 25:44 (ἀπὸ τῶν ἐθνῶν, ὅσοι κύκλῳ σού εἰσιν) and Deut 17:14 (καθὰ καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ ἔθνη τὰ κύκλῳ μου), which a priori target the nations around Israel, as opposed to the Canaanites. 210 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 483.

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modelled on Phinehas, who diverts the wrath of God from Israel.211 It seems very likely that Deut 13 also provides the subtext for 1 Macc 3:5–8, despite their different wording: where Deut 13:16 LXX uses ἀναιρέω to describe the killing of the population at fault, and resorts to the neologism ἀναθεματίζω to evoke the destruction of their entire city, 1 Macc 3:8 uses another neologism from the Septuagint, ἐξολεθρεύω, which is used to translate the verb ‫ להחרים‬in 11 % of cases only, according to a study by Hyung Dae Park.212 This example shows that the text of 1 Maccabees can sometimes substitute its own terminological choices to the wording of the biblical passage on which its draws. It seems probable that this was already the case at the level of its redaction in Hebrew. We should therefore refrain from attaching too much importance to the use of any one word in particular, and focus instead on the overall coherence of its biblical references. Finally, 1 Macc 9:73 probably constitutes the book’s last echo of Deut 13: “And the sword ceased from Israel, and Jonathan lived in Machmas and began to judge the people and removed the impious from Israel (καὶ ἠφάνισεν τοὺς ἀσεβεῖς ἐξ Ισραηλ).”213 Indeed, Jonathan is portrayed as pursuing Mattathias and Judas’ policy, which was inspired by Deut 13. Conversely, under the rule of Simon, there seem to be no more renegades left in the midst of Israel, and the account of his high priesthood in chapter 14 describes a period of peace and a new leader who has the unanimous backing of his people. Other passages of Deuteronomy underpin this or that section of 1 Maccabees. In particular, the recurrent use in 1 Maccabees of the phrase “the covenant of our fathers” (2:20.50 and 4:10) certainly echoes Deut 4:31.214 Similarly, when ­Mattathias says that “we will not … deviate from our religion (or: cult) to the right or to the left” (παρελθεῖν τὴν λατρείαν ἡμῶν δεξιὰν ἢ ἀριστεράν, 1 Macc 2:22), this recalls the words “nor turning aside from the commandment, either to the right or to the left” in Deut 17:20. As for the line “the men who had spurned the commandment of the king” (διεσκέδασαν τὴν ἐντολὴν τοῦ βασιλέως, 1 Macc 2:31), it may be founded (from the opposite perspective) in Deut 31:16 or 20, when God tells Moses that the people of Israel will reject the covenant (v. 16: διασκεδάσουσιν τὴν διαθήκην μου).

211 See Num 25:11. Although θυμός is the word used in Numbers, as opposed to ὀργή, the idea is the same. 212 Or, to be more precise, in 23 cases out of 204 occurrences of this term in the entire LXX (i. e. exactly 11.27 %); see Hyung Dae Park, Finding H.erem?, 56. 213 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 492. All of these passages may also be seen to echo Deut 19:19: “You shall purge the evil from your midst.” 214 This phrase is also found in Mal 2:10 LXX (τὴν διαθήκην τῶν πατέρων ὑμῶν). For a different turn of phrase which conveys the same notion, see: LXX Deut 7:12; 8:18; 9:5; 29:24; Judg 2:20; 3 Kgs 8:21; Jer 11:10; 38:32; 41:13.

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Moreover, several of Judas’ heroic deeds also appear to be based on Deuteronomic prescriptions. In 1 Macc 3:55, when, before entering into battle against Gorgias, Judas appoints the “leaders of the people, officers of thousands and officers of hundreds and officers of fifties and officers of tens,”215 the titles that he gives to his men hark back to Exod 18:21.25216 and, even more strikingly, to the language of Deut 1:15.217 Later Judas puts into practice the commandments of Deut 20:5– 9, when he sends home those who have just built a house, planted a vineyard, or become engaged, as well as those who are afraid to fight (1 Macc 3:56).218 Indeed, the text explicitly states that by taking these measures, Judas acted “according to the Law (κατὰ τὸν νόμον).” In the next chapter, the text mentions that, following their victory, the purification of the sanctuary involved rebuilding it with unhewn stones (λίθους ὁλοκλήρους) (1 Macc 4:47), exactly as prescribed in Deut 27:6,219 and once again the text explains that Judas and his men acted “according to the Law.” This overview suggests that Deuteronomy is in many respects presented as a source of inspiration and a religious norm for Mattathias, Judas and his brothers (even if, in the case of the latter, the author does not really emphasize that they upheld this norm). The most prescriptive section of Deuteronomy is chapter 13, which commands ․herem against the renegades in Israel. Before switching our focus to the fifth chapter of 1 Maccabees, it is already worth mentioning that the logic behind the references to Deuteronomy in 2 Maccabees is radically different.220 The religious zeal promoted in 2 Maccabees does not involve the extermination of any renegades, as in the model presented by Deut 13, so much as martyrdom – i. e. the sacrifice of one’s own life – in the name of the law.221 Finally, the notion that the 215 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 484. 216 Exod 18:21: καταστήσεις αὐτοὺς ἐπ’ αὐτῶν χιλιάρχους καὶ ἑκατοντάρχους καὶ πεντηκοντάρχους καὶ δεκαδάρχους. 217 Deut 1:15: κατέστησα αὐτοὺς ἡγεῖσθαι ἐφ’ ὑμῶν χιλιάρχους καὶ ἑκατοντάρχους καὶ πεντηκοντάρχους καὶ δεκαδάρχους. 218 Compare with Judg 7:3, when Gideon sends the fainthearted back home. 219 This commandment is also mentioned in Exod 20:25, although the wording is not the same. Josh 8:31 (LXX 9:2β) echoes the Deuteronomic formulation of this commandment, when Joshua executes Moses’ order and builds a sanctuary on Mount Ebal. Conversely, however, the temple that Solomon rebuilds in 1 Kgs 6–8, is “overlaid … with pure gold” (6:20) and the text makes no reference to Deut 27:5–6. 220 See Goldstein, I Maccabees, 33–34; G. E. Nickelsburg, “1 and 2 Maccabees–Same Story, Different Meaning,” in George W. E. Nickelsburg in Perspective. An Ongoing Dialogue of Learning (J. Neusner and A. J. Avery-Peck, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 2:659–674 (article first published in 1971); K. Berthelot, “The Biblical Conquest of the Promised Land and the Hasmonean Wars according to 1 and 2 Maccabees,” in The Books of Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology (G. X ­ eravits and J. Zsengellér, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 45–60. 221 On the significance of martyrdom in 2 Maccabees, see R. M. Doran, “The Martyr: A Synoptic View of the Mother and Her Seven Sons,” in Ideal Figures in Ancient Judaism (ed. J. J. Collins; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1980), 189–221; van Henten, The Maccabean Martyrs as Saviours; M.-F. Baslez, Les persécutions dans l’Antiquité: victimes, héros, martyrs (Paris: Fayard, 2007),

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trials and tribulations of the Judeans are the result of their own sins is the principal manifestation of the influence of Deuteronomy over 2 Maccabees.222

4.2.2 The laws of warfare in Deuteronomy 20 and 1 Maccabees

Considering that 1 Maccabees 3 portrays Judas’ application of the laws of warfare prescribed in Deut 20:5–9, we might have expected to see him obey the other laws presented in that chapter, including ․herem warfare against the Canaanite peoples settled in Judea.223 Indeed, on several occasions, Judas’ exhortations to his men echo the Deuteronomic command (20:1–4) not to fear the greater numbers and might of the enemy.224 Moreover, in 1 Macc 5:42, the “scribes” (γραμματεῖς) are described as having the same duties as in Deut 20:5.8–9, where they are in charge of turning away the men who are unfit to fight, thus controlling who is and is not conscripted.225 But what about the treatment that Deut 20 prescribes for Canaanite cities and for cities located outside the promised land? Let us begin by focusing on the campaigns waged by Judas in 1 Macc 5 – i. e. the battles most often cited by those who argue that the Hasmoneans waged ․herem warfare. The first thing to note is that nowhere are the opponents of the Judeans described as “Canaanites” (I return to this point later, in § 4.3 below).226 This is all the more significant that other names of biblical peoples are used to describe Judea’s neighbours, such as the phrase “sons of Esau” to designate the Idumeans, in 1 Macc 5:3 and 65. This immediately raises a problem, since, in the Hebrew Bible, 152–164; idem, “Hellenismos-Ioudaismos: Cross-Approaches of Jewish-Greek Literature of Martyrdom,” Henoch 32/1 (2010):19–33; K. Berthelot, “L’idéologie maccabéenne entre idéologie de la résistance armée et idéologie du martyre;” Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 50. 222 See 2 Macc 5:17; 6:12–16; 7:18.32; 10:4; D. R. Schwartz, “Something Biblical about 2 Maccabees,” in Biblical Perspectives. Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 223–232, esp. 228. On the influence of Deut 8:5 on 2 Maccabees, see idem, “Divine Punishment in Second Maccabees: Vengeance, Abandonment or Loving Discipline?” in Der Mensch vor Gott. Forschungen zum Menschenbild in Bibel, antikem Judentum und Koran. Festschrift für Hermann Lichtenberger (ed. U. Mittmann-Richert et al.; Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2003), 109–116; and idem, 2 Maccabees, 44–46. 223 On the influence of Deut 20 on 1 Maccabees, see S. Schwartz, “Israel and the Nations Roundabout,” esp. 30–33 and 35. 224 In other words, he does not only perform the duties of a war leader but also those of the priest who has to exhort the troops before the battle. See 1 Macc 3:18–22; 4:8–11; 4:30–33; 7:40–42, etc. See also Bar-Kochva, Judas Maccabeus, 157, 215, 266–267, 287–288, etc. 225 On other occurrences of this term in the Bible, see Grimm, Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 86. 226 I do not believe that the phrase “the nations around us” refers to the Canaanites, unlike Uriel Rappaport, who writes: “‘Gentiles all around’, meaning those who lived in the land of Israel. The language and attitude of the author are influenced by the biblical account of the conquest of Canaan by Joshua ben Nun” (“1 Maccabees,” 718).

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the Canaanites and the Amalekites are the only non-Israelite peoples against whom ․herem warfare is prescribed. (The commentators who have noted this problem are few and far between, because there are so many who consider that ․herem warfare was prescribed against all non-Israelites settled on the “land of Israel,” whatever their ethnic group and the period under study). In chapter 5, Judas wages several military campaigns in order to come to the rescue of isolated Judean communities settled in the midst of non-Judean peoples. According to 1 Macc 5:1–2, “the nations around us” (τὰ ἔθνη κυκλόθεν) were planning to kill the Jews who lived in their midst and indeed had started putting this plan into action.227 Judas’ military operations are thus presented as an attempt to save the “descendants of Jacob,” in response to the aggression of other nations: 3 And Judas made war against the sons of Esau in Idumea,228 against Akrabattene, because they were besieging Israel. And he struck them a mighty blow and reduced them and took their spoils. 4 And he remembered the evil of the sons of Baian, who were to the people as a snare and as a trap by ambushing them on the roads. 5 And they were confined by him to the towers, and he marshaled his troops against them and anathematized them and burned their towers with fire together with all those who were inside. 6 And he crossed over against the sons of Ammon …229

The occurrence – the only one in 1 Maccabees – in this passage on the sons of Baian (or Baean), of the verb ἀναθεματίζειν, which in the Septuagint systematically translates the verb ‫“( להחרים‬to put to the ban”), is of course quoted by all those who argue that the Hasmoneans practiced ․herem warfare. These lines therefore demand a close examination. Firstly, it is important to emphasize that Judas’ first military expeditions are explicitly described as defensive operations aiming to save Judean lives, as opposed to liberate the land from the presence of idolatrous “Canaanites” (or others). Secondly, Deut 23:8 expressly forbids the Judeans from abhorring the sons of Esau – i. e. the Edomites – while Deut 23:9 opens up the possibility of their integration into the assembly of the sons of Israel, for the third generation. There 227 This echoes Nehemiah 4, when the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem angers the surrounding nations, causing the Judeans to feel under threat and to seek refuge with Nehemiah. 228 MSS A and 130: ιουδαια (W. Kappler, Maccabaeorum liber I, 74). On this question, see ­F.-M. Abel, “Topographie des campagnes machabéennes,” RB 32 (1923): 495–521 (esp. 512– 513). Abel’s thesis challenges M. Hölscher, who chooses the lesson ιουδαια, arguing that Judas could not have launched an expedition against Beth-Zur (“Die Feldzüge des Makkabäers Judas,” ZDPV 29 [1906]: 133–151). 229 Greek text: καὶ ἐπολέμει Ιουδας πρὸς τοὺς υἱοὺς Ησαυ ἐν τῇ Ιδουμαίᾳ, τὴν Ακραβαττήνην, ὅτι περιεκάθηντο τὸν Ισραηλ, καὶ ἐπάταξεν αὐτοὺς πληγὴν μεγάλην καὶ συνέστειλεν αὐτοὺς καὶ ἔλαβε τὰ σκῦλα αὐτῶν. 4 καὶ ἐμνήσθη τῆς κακίας υἱῶν Βαιαν, οἳ ἦσαν τῷ λαῷ εἰς παγίδα καὶ σκάνδαλον ἐν τῷ ἐνεδρεύειν αὐτοὺς ἐν ταῖς ὁδοῖς· 5 καὶ δισεκλείσθησαν ὑπ ’ αὐτοῦ εἰς τοὺς πύργους, καὶ παρενέβαλεν ἐπ ’ αὐτοὺς καὶ ἀνεθεμάτισεν αὐτοὺς καὶ ἐνεπύρισε τοὺς πύργους αὐτῆς ἐν πυρὶ σὺν πᾶσιν τοῖς ἐνοῦσιν. 6 καὶ διεπέρασεν ἐπὶ τοὺς υἱοὺς Αμμων …

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is never any question of waging ․herem warfare against the Edomites, whose territory in fact was not given to the sons of Israel, as Deut 2:2–8 states explicitly – see especially v. 5: “Do not engage in battle with them, for I will not give you even so much as a foot’s length of their land, since I have given Mount Seir to Esau as a possession” (see also Num 34:3). The Amalekites, who are descended from Esau according to Gen 36:12, are the only exception, having been banned in the days of Saul, according to 1 Sam 15. What about the sons of Baian, and where were they settled? If we except 1 Maccabees, the only other mention of the name Baian (Be‘on in Hebrew) in the Septuagint occurs in Num 32:3, and designates one of the settlements located on the eastern shore of the river Jordan, in the land that the sons of Gad and Reuben claimed as their own. This land also includes Iazer (or Jazer),230 mentioned as one of the Ammonite settlements captured by Judas in 1 Macc 5:8. This is not strictly speaking the promised land, since it was Moses who granted permission to Gad and Reuben to settle beyond the Jordan after the conquest, giving them a special derogation, as it were. The people of this region are never described as Canaanites in the Bible or in 1 Maccabees.231 Moreover, in a Syriac version of this text, the words “sons of Esau”232 are substituted to “sons of Baian,” and several commentators agree that the former were Idumeans.233 Does this mean that, when he used the verb ‫להחרים‬/ἀναθεματίζειν, the author of 1 Maccabees unthinkingly resorted to an archaism, without actually intending to imply anything in particular? Is the use of the phrase “to put to the ban” casual? Not necessarily: various elements of the text prompt a different reading. In v. 4, the phrase “he remembered the evil of the sons of Baian” (ἐμνήσθη τῆς κακίας υἱῶν Βαιαν) recalls the commandment to remember the actions of Amalek in Deut 25:17 (LXX: Μνήσθητι ὅσα ἐποίησέν σοι Αμαληκ). Moreover, the account of the way in which the sons of Baian attacked 230 According to Jub. 29:10, Be‘on or Baian was located in Transjordan. 231 Clearly, the phrase “a snare and a trap” (εἰς παγίδα καὶ σκάνδαλον) in 1 Macc 5:4 is a reminiscence of Josh 23:13, which warns the Israelites against getting married to and forming alliances with the Canaanites, adding that if they are not put to the ban (h.erem), they will be “a snare and a trap” (LXX: καὶ ἔσονται ὑμῖν εἰς παγίδας καὶ εἰς σκάνδαλα). It seems to me that this literary echo is explained by the fate of the “sons of Baian,” who are put to the ban, although this is because they are identified with the descendants of Amalek, as opposed to those of the Canaanites. On the sole reference to a “Canaanite” in 1 Maccabees (1 Macc 9), see infra. 232 See Kappler, Maccabaeorum liber 1:75: “esau SyII: ex v.3. ” 233 Grimm already cautiously noted that “υἱῶν Βαιαν kann nach Analogie von υἱοὶ Ἡσαῦ u. dgl. nur einen arabischen (vielleicht edomitischen Stamm zum Unterschiede von den Edomitern an un auf der Skorpionhöhe) Stamm … bezeichnen” (Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 78). However, Abel argues that the sons of Baian may have been living in the Judean desert, and he sees them as “nomads who used the region’s refuge towers” (“des nomades se servant des tours de refuge de la région,” Les livres des Maccabées, 89–90). As for Uriel Rappaport, he evokes “‘Baean’, a nomadic tribe, probably located in Trans-Jordan (cf. Num 32:3), which took advantage of the insecurity of the region for marauding purposes” (“1 Maccabees,” 718). In his commentary, he describes them as an “Arabic tribe” (The First Book of Maccabees, 168).

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the sons of Israel by surprise on the roads, clearly evokes Amalek sneaking up on and treacherously attacking the weaker members of the Hebrew people, as they trailed at the back of the line (Deut 25:18).234 The use of the verb ἀναθεματίζειν therefore probably echoes the injunction to anathematize (or: put to the ban) the Amalekites in 1 Sam 15:2–3. This is yet another subtle indication that Judas harks back to the ancient kings of Israel, especially in view of the fact that, as we shall see later, Judas’ military expeditions in 1 Macc 5 are strikingly similar to those of Saul, as summarized in 1 Sam 14:47–48. Judas is thus presented as a new Saul, except that, unlike the fallen king, he remains faithful to the commandment to wage ․herem warfare on the descendants of Amalek, as personified by the sons of Baian.235 Following his victory against the sons of Baian, Judas leads his troops to the land of “the sons of Ammon,” on the eastern shore of the river Jordan. After fighting and defeating the Ammonites (without any Jews having been said to be in need of rescue), they return to Judea (1 Macc 5:6–8). Judas then launches another expedition in Gilead, at the request of “Israelites” who have taken refuge in the stronghold of Dathema (1 Macc 5:9) and sent him a letter calling for help and describing the fate of their compatriots in the following terms: the men have been killed and the women and children captured. Another call for help reaches Judas at the same moment, this time for Jews settled in Galilee and in Sidon, on the coast (1 Macc 5:15). While Simon is dispatched to Galilee, where he manages to rescue the Galilean Jews and bring them back to Judea, Judas and Jonathan travel to Gilead. Judas and his troops “deal a blow”236 to several cities: Bozrah, Alema, Chaspho, Maked, Bosor, and “the remaining cities of Galaaditis” (1 Macc 5:36), followed by Karnain, and, finally, the city of Ephron, where they had not been allowed to pass as they were travelling back “to the land of Judah” (5:53). The description of these battles is rather repetitive: in 5:28 (Bozrah), 35 (Alema) and 51 (Ephron), the text specifies that every male was killed (generally “by the edge of the sword,” except in v. 35); Judas and his troops take the “spoils” (σκῦλα) and

234 This point has already been made by Goldstein, I Maccabees, 294–295; Batsch, La guerre et les rites de guerre, 419. See also one of the corrections found in the Codex Sinaiticus: in v. 3, the scribe wrote αμαληκ, before erasing the word (see Kappler, Maccabaeorum liber I, 74: “pr. (praemittit) αμαληκ S* [del.1]”). The scribe immediately saw a reference to Amalek when “the sons of Esau” were mentioned “besieging Israel.” Later, the solicitude exhibited by Judas towards the “stragglers” travelling to Judea (1 Macc 5:53) may also be a reference to the same passage on Amalek. 235 For a more detailed demonstration, see K. Berthelot, “Judas Maccabeus’s Wars Against Judaea’s Neighbours in 1 Maccabees 5: A Reassessment of the Evidence,” Electrum 21 (2014): 73–85. 236 The possible etymological link between “Maccabee” and the Hebrew ‫( מכה‬makkah), “blow, wound” is especially prominent here. See 1 Macc 5:3: “he dealt them a great blow (ἐπάταξεν αὐτοὺς πληγὴν μεγάλην).”

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the city is usually burned down (except in v. 51).237 It is unlikely that these battles can be interpreted as ․herem warfare for three reasons: 1. The book describes a rescue expedition that took place beyond the borders of the promised land (on the eastern shore of the river Jordan) and was organized in order to come to the assistance of imperiled Jews, not a crusade launched against the Gileadites because they worship idols. 2. Only the men are killed in the ensuing battles, in accordance with Deut 20:13, which sets out the rules of engagement against the cities that lie outside of Canaan and refuse to make peace with the Israelites. 3. Judas and his men take the spoils for themselves, rather than consecrating them to God.238 If this episode is to be understood in connection with a (primarily literary and rhetorical) biblical model, this model is obviously Deut 20:13–14,239 even though the wording is not the same in 1 Maccabees.240 It is worth recalling that, in the case of Ephron, Judas began by suggesting a peaceful crossing of the city (1 Macc 5:48), which is only besieged as a last resort, after Judas meets with the population’s persistent refusal to allow him through.241. Such a scenario could not have been envisaged if the systematic application of ․herem warfare had been part of Judas’ policy. The events described in Karnain are different, since the enemies take ref237 V. 28: καὶ ἀπέκτεινε πᾶν ἀρσενικὸν ἐν στόματι ῥομφαίας καὶ ἔλαβεν πάντα τὰ σκῦλα αὐτῶν καὶ ἐνέπρησεν αὐτὴν πυρί. On Bozrah as an Edomite or Moabite city (Jer 48:24), see Grimm, Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 83–84. V. 35: καὶ ἀπέκλινεν εἰς Αλεμα καὶ ἐπολέμησεν αὐτὴν καὶ κατελάβετο αὐτὴν καὶ ἀπέκτεινεν πᾶν ἀρσενικὸν αὐτῆς καὶ ἔλαβεν τὰ σκῦλα αὐτῆς καὶ ἐνέπρησεν αὐτὴν ἐν πυρί. Regarding the name of the city, Kappler privileges the Μααφα lesson, which is found in MS A. However, as Grimm observes, the correction Αλεμα which is found in the Greek MS 19, as well as in the Latin and the Syriac versions, and based on the list of names in v. 26, is probably correct (Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 85). V. 51: καὶ ἀπώλεσεν πᾶν ἀρσενικὸν ἐν στόματι ῥομφαίας καὶ ἐξερρίζωσεν αὐτὴν καὶ ἔλαβεν τὰ σκῦλα αὐτῆς καὶ διῆλθεν διὰ τῆς πόλεως ἐπάνω τῶν ἀπεκταμμένων. 238 Note the difference with Deut 13:17 on the rules of h.erem warfare against an idolatrous Israelite city, calling for the destruction of all their goods. See also Josh 7. 239 LXX: 13 καὶ παραδώσει αὐτὴν κύριος ὁ θεός σου εἰς τὰς χεῖράς σου, καὶ πατάξεις πᾶν ἀρσενικὸν αὐτῆς ἐν φόνῳ μαχαίρας, 14 πλὴν τῶν γυναικῶν καὶ τῆς ἀποσκευῆς καὶ πάντα τὰ κτήνη καὶ πάντα, ὅσα ἂν ὑπάρχῃ ἐν τῇ πόλει, καὶ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀπαρτίαν προνομεύσεις σεαυτῷ καὶ φάγῃ πᾶσαν τὴν προνομὴν τῶν ἐχθρῶν σου, ὧν κύριος ὁ θεός σου δίδωσίν σοι. 240 The author of 1 Maccabees may also be suggesting a correspondence between the treatment that the enemies of Israel inflicted on the Jews living in their midst, according to 5:13 (where the men are killed and the women and children captured) and Judas’ behaviour towards them (he only kills the males, but takes no prisoners). On the notion of revenge involved in the fate inflicted by Judas on the enemies of the Jews, see Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 168. 241 This episode recalls Num 20:17–21, when Edom refuses to allow Israel across his territory (even if Israel does not take up arms in this case) and Num 21:21–25, when Sihon, king of the Amorites, is defeated after refusing to allow Israel to pass through his territory.

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uge inside “the sacred precinct in Karnain,” before Judas burns it down. However, in this case also, the people in question are (male) warriors, and the fire does not seem to extend beyond the sacred precinct – the text does not mention whether Judas and his men did take the spoils of war with them (5:43–44). This episode illuminates the discrepancy between the widespread Hellenistic notion of asylum and the perspective of the Judeans on the temples dedicated to the gods of other nations,242 and suggests that Judas’ desire for revenge was not outweighed by any consideration for the sacra of the enemies of Israel.243 The absence of any reference to the places and objects of worship in the other cities captured by Judas rather undermines the notion that these battles were wars against idolatry.244 Conversely, Judas’ second expedition should probably be seen in light of the heroic deeds of Saul in 1 Sam, whose decision to come to the assistance of Jabesh-Gilead and rescue the inhabitants of the city from Nahash the Ammonite in an area located on the eastern shore of the Jordan, reveals him as the legitimate king of Israel.245 Once again, the author of 1 Maccabees seeks to depict Judas as a king in the vein of the ancient kings of Israel. It is also not a coincidence if silencing those who oppose the choice of Saul as their king is the reason for the battle against Nahash in the Book of Samuel. In 1 Sam 10:27, Saul’s opponents are called “worthless fellows,” literally “sons of Belial” (beney Belial), i. e. the same name as in Deut 13:14 and probably 1 Macc 1:11 (see supra, I.3.2). In 1 Macc 1:11, the phrase beney Belial, if indeed this is the phrase that was used, could have a double meaning, suggesting that these Judeans were not just renegades, but also the future enemies of the Hasmoneans, somewhat like the enemies of Saul. After their victories in Galilee and Gilead, Judas and his brothers launch a third expedition. First, they (once again) march “against the sons of Esau in the land to the south” (Idumea), before attacking Hebron, tearing down its fortresses and burning its towers (5:65), and heading for “the land of the allophyles” (foreigners), 242 This is not the case in 2 Maccabees, where asylum is granted to those who take in the temple of Jerusalem as well as in Greek sanctuaries (2 Macc 3:12; 4:33–35). 243 Cf. von Dobbeler, Die Bücher 1/2 Makkabäer, 86: “Des weiteren verfahren die Makkabäer mit dem heidnischen Tempel genauso, wie sie es an ihrem Jerusalemer Heiligtum erfahren haben. Sie töten die Anhänger der Astarte/Atargatis und zerstören deren Tempel. Doch geht es hier nicht nur um ein ‘Auge um Auge, Zahn um Zahn’. Mit der Zerstörung des heidnischen Tempels wird der Exklusivanspruch Gottes und zugleich die monotheistische Ausrichtung des Judentums dokumentiert. ” 244 Pace von Dobbeler, ibid. 245 This suggestion has ben made before, by Heinrich Graetz, History of the Jews, 1:474. This is also what Werner Dommershausen notes in passing, after Jonathan Goldstein (I Maccabees, 302): “Datema wird mit drei Abteilungen angegriffen wie einst Jabesch von Saul 1 Sam 11” (1 Makkabäer–2 Makkabäer, 40). However, this does not lead them to suggest anything in particular about the relationship between Judas and Saul. See 1 Sam 10:27–11:15 and the reconstitution of the begining of this chapter in 4QSamuela (4Q51) frg. 10a, as well as its rewriting by Josephus in Ant. 6.67–80.

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i. e. the coastal plain, via Marisa (the text does not mention what happened there exactly, although the city does not seem to have been taken) (5:66–67). When they reach Azotus, on the coast, they tear down the idolatrous altars, burn the effigies of the gods and take the spoils of “the cities” before returning “to the land of Judah” (5:68). The prescriptions of Deut 7:5 and 12:3 (or indeed Exod 34:13), ordering the Israelites to break down the altars and the graven images of the Canaanites, obviously form the background of this last expedition. However, it would be wrong to infer from this fact that, in 1 Maccabees, the “allophyles” settled on the plain are Canaanites: instead, the wording of the text suggests that they are identified with the Philistines against whom Saul and David waged war. Moreover, even if Judas is shown to eradicate the worship of idols from Azotus, the text does not mention that he puts the population to the sword. If we look at chapter 5 as a whole, it can be argued that this chapter introduces Judas as Saul’s heir, and is fairly closely based on the summary of Saul’s deeds presented in 1 Sam 14:47–48: When Saul had taken the kingship over Israel, he fought against all his enemies on every side – against Moab, against the Ammonites, against Edom, against the kings of Zobah, and against the Philistines; wherever he turned he routed them. He did valiantly, and struck down the Amalekites, and rescued Israel out of the hands of those who plundered them.

We find the same picture of enemies gathered “on every side” or “all around” (1 Sam 14:47 LXX: ἐπολέμει κύκλῳ πάντας τοὺς ἐχθροὺς αὐτοῦ) as we do at the start of 1 Macc 5, when “the surrounding nations” (τὰ ἔθνη κυκλόθεν) are mentioned; and Saul wages war against a very similar catalogue of peoples as Judas does in his own campaigns, especially if we agree that the “sons of Baian” should be identified with the Amalekites.246 Finally, if we compare 1 Macc 5 with the various passages focusing on the campaigns of Judas in 2 Maccabees (in which they do not form a single narrative unit), the differences between these two accounts of these expeditions can almost all be understood in light of the literary parallel the author of 1 Maccabees wishes to create in chapter 5 between the campaigns of Judas and Saul.247 From chapter 6 onwards, Judas wages war on the Seleucid citadels of Beth-Zur and the Acra (where Judeans affiliated with the Seleucids also dwelled), or clashes directly with the armies of the Seleucid kings and Judean traitors. According to 1 Macc 7:24, Alcimus and his supporters caused a domestic crisis, prompting Judas to lead expeditions against them within Judea itself. If we look beyond chapter 5, 246 Seth Schwartz also points out the similarities between 1 Macc 5 and 1 Sam 14:47 (“Israel and the Nations Roundabout,” 24). 247 See 2 Macc 10:14–38; 12:3–9.13–28.32–37; Berthelot, “Judas Maccabeus’ Wars Against Judaea’s Neighbours in 1 Maccabees 5”.

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then, Judas does not primarily wage war against “the surrounding nations,” so much as lead campaigns within Judea itself (for the most part) against either Judean renegades or the Seleucids. This tallies with the situation that is described right from chapter 1 of 1 Maccabees. In reality, it seems dubious that the “surrounding nations” would have suddenly started killing the Jews because of the restoration of the cult in Jerusalem, and the account of Judas’ campaigns in chapter 5 is largely unreliable. Overall, chapter 5 does not have a strong claim to historicity (although it probably has some, if only because of the parallels between this chapter and 2 Maccabees). Instead, chapter 5 is a powerful rhetorical and legitimating narrative, which is largely based on the heroic deeds of Saul.248 It should thus not be used to argue that Judas implemented ․herem warfare against the surrounding nations. Let us now turn to the campaigns waged by Jonathan and Simon. As several commentators have observed, the Hasmonean policy towards the “surrounding nations” changes radically after the death of Judas.249 Although Jonathan does continue to fight against the Seleucids, and attempts to take back the Acra (1 Macc 11:20) while Simon recaptures Beth-Zur (11:65–66), Jonathan also concludes an alliance with Alexander Balas, who appoints him to the high priesthood (10:15–21), and later makes peace with Demetrius II, who confirms his role as high priest despite his attack on the Acra (11:27). Later, when Demetrius breaks relations with Jonathan, it is the turn of the young Antiochus VI, recently placed on the throne by Trypho, to confirm Jonathan as high priest and name Simon 248 I take this opportunity to recall Félix-Marie Abel’s observation that “Le procédé par lequel l’auteur du Ier livre des Machabées a rassemblé dans une même péricope les diverses expéditions conduites hors de Judée a beau sentir l’artifice, il vaut mieux s’en tenir au tableau tracé par lui …”. However, Abel does not doubt the historicity of these events, anymore than he does the historical veracity of the events described under Esdras and Nehemiah: “Il est assez naturel que les troubles qui accompagnèrent la restauration du sanctuaire sous Zorobabel et le relèvement de Jérusalem sous Néhémie se soient reproduits au retour de fortune dû aux efforts des fils de Mattathias” (“Topographie des campagnes machabéennes,” 512). Similarly, Jonathan Goldstein does not question the historical validity of the nations’ sudden outburst of hostility against the Judeans: he tries to explain it by suggesting that the nations feared that Judas and his troops might reconquer the entire region in their attempt to accomplish biblical prophecies (!) (I Maccabees, 293). In his detailed analysis (in Judas Maccabeus) of the wars waged by Judas, Bezalel Bar-Kochva altogether omits to examine this chapter, in which Judas does not fight against the Seleucid armies. 249 Israel Shatzman writes that “A different Hasmonean policy towards the neighbouring nations is noticeable under the leadership of Jonathan. The author of 1 Maccabees reports only one case of a destruction during the years when Jonathan was a rebellious leader, but depicts it as a blood revenge. I refer to the killing of the Hasmonean John by the sons of Iamri … (9:36– 42). This kind of killing, belonging in the sphere of personal, tribal relations, has nothing to do with religious or national-cultural wars, which are the subject under discussion. The only relevant case reported concerns the battle of Azotus … (10:83–84; cf. 11:4). This exceptional case, the only one reported during the 18 years of Jonathan’s leadership, is presented as a reaction to the provocation of Apollonius (10:70–74), not as an implementation of a general policy” (“Jews and Gentiles from Judas Maccabaeus to John Hyrcanus,” 242–243).

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“commander (στρατηγός) from the ascent of Tyre as far as the borders of Egypt” (11:57–59). Jonathan thus conducted his policy in a context of alliance with some of the Seleucids, which did not prevent him from occasionally clashing with the rival party or with certain factions of the Seleucid army (see for example 11:63). Jonathan and his men also clashed with the “surrounding nations” on a few occasions, especially against the “allophyles” settled on the coastal plain, i. e. the “Philistines”. However, these conflicts should be seen in the context of the engagements between Jonathan and segments of the Seleucid forces.250 In 1 Macc 10:69–87, Jonathan travels to the coast to wage war against Apollonius, the Seleucid general in charge of Coele-Syria (a term which is in fact equivalent with Syria, understood as “the inner part of the land located on the north-eastern fringe of the Mediterranean”).251 The reason he lays siege to Joppa, is that it houses one of Apollonius’ garrisons: when the city surrenders, he does not kill its population (10:76). When Apollonius takes his troops to Azotus, they clash in an area close to the city, and some of the Seleucid soldiers seek refuge inside the temple of Dagon. According to 1 Maccabees, Jonathan then “burned Azotus and the cities surrounding it and took their spoils, and the temple of Dagon, and those who had taken refuge in it he burned with fire” (10:84).252 As with Judas in Karnain, the Judeans show no consideration whatsoever for their enemies’ places of worship. However, the temple of Dagon is not destroyed because it is a place where idols are worshipped, i. e. in order to eradicate idolatry, but because of the enemies hiding inside. The same is probably true of the surrounding cities. However, the reference to the temple of Dagon is of course also a veiled allusion to the story of the statue of the Philistine god Dogon, which is ironically found prostrate before the ark of the God of Israel in 1 Sam 5. In other words, the noble deeds of Jonathan are presented as continuing those of the first kings of Israel, just as those of Judas were before him. The ideological and rhetorical function of these biblical allusions is clear when we compare Jonathan’s destruction of Azotus with his behaviour in Ascalon, whose population he leaves in peace after he is greeted “with great pomp” (10:86). The fact that these people are no less “idolatrous” than the population of Azotus, confirms that in the case of Azotus, the problem was primarily political and military: Jonathan’s quarrel with the inhabitants of Azotus lay in their support for his enemies, not in their cult. It is also worth observing that Jonathan’s destruction of a temple in Azotus establishes a relationship of continuity between his actions and the noble deeds of Judas (1 Macc 5:68). Chapter 10 closes

250 On the episode of personal revenge described in 1 Macc 9:35–42, see I.4.3 (infra). 251 See Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 12: “la partie intérieure du pays que borde la frange nord orientale de la Méditerranée”. 252 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 494.

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on Alexander Balas’ – Demetrius’ rival – expression of gratitude to Jonathan, and on his gift to Jonathan of the city of Ekron and its territory.253 Although the biblical model of the wars waged against the Philistines by Saul and David lies in the background of Jonathan’s campaigns against the cities on the plain, it is mainly a literary model. When, in 1 Macc 10:71–72, Apollonius taunts Jonathan, the former refers explicitly to the defeats of the Israelites at the hands of the Philistines.254 Does this mean that Apollonius was familiar with the stories of the Bible? Such an interpretation would be rather unrealistic. Instead, this episode shows that the author of 1 Maccabees peppers his narrative with biblical references. In any case, just as there is no question of waging ․herem warfare against the Philistines in the Bible, and just as the wars against them have all the hallmarks of a clash between neighbours, similarly, in the case of Azotus, the destruction by fire of a city and its population is not part of a programme of systematic extermination, but an isolated and exemplary punishment. In chapter 11, Jonathan leads another campaign on the coastal plain, still in the context of his struggle against Demetrius II and in order to establish the authority and royal legitimacy of Antiochus VI. This time, the Syrian armies loyal to Antiochus VI fight alongside Jonathan and his men (11:60). When the population of Gaza closes the doors of the city in his face, this is understood to mean that they are siding with Demetrius. As a result, Jonathan besieges the city, before burning down and looting its outskirts. Nevertheless, he does not massacre the population, and neither does he destroy their places of worship: instead, he allows them to surrender and takes hostages in exchange (11:61–62). Once again, the problem is merely a question of political allegiance. Later, he travels to Galilee in order to continue waging war against Demetrius, and this takes him far to the north, in the direction of Hazor (Ασωρ). His enemies are once again described as composed of “allophyles,” as though these soldiers came from the coast – however, this phrase may also be interpreted as a reference to non-Judeans in general. Jonathan leads another campaign against Demetrius’ generals in chapter 12:24– 31: when his opponents flee, he turns against “the Arabs called Zabadeans” – potentially allies of Demetrius –, defeats and plunders them. Meanwhile, we are told that Simon has taken Joppa (with which Jonathan had made peace) because rumours suggested that its population may have forged an alliance with Demetrius. Simon thus establishes a garrison in the city (12:34). The author then dwells at length on the building activities of Jonathan and Simon, who reconstruct the citadels they have taken from the Seleucids (Adida in the Shephelah, captured on Simon’s initiative), build strongholds in Judea, raise up the walls of Jerusalem, and erect a

253 ‘Aqir, according to Abel, Géographie palestinienne, 2:319. 254 According to Grimm (Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 165), and Abel after him (Les livres des Maccabées, 198), the author may be referring to 1 Sam 4:10 and 1 Sam 31.

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wall to isolate the Acra, still in the hands of their foes. In the next section, we shall examine the ideological function of all this building work. After Trypho’s assassination of Jonathan, Simon makes peace with Demetrius and in 1 Macc 13:41 we read: “In the one hundred seventieth year the yoke of the nations was lifted from Israel.”255 At the end of chapter 13, we are told that Simon won two more victories, one against Gazara (which he purifies, fortifies and rebuilds in order to establish his son John Hyrcanus there) and the other in Jerusalem, against the Acra, whose occupants surrender. In both cases, the population is driven out, as opposed to massacred, and the strongholds are not burned down. In chapter 14, Simon’s high priesthood is described as a period of peace (14:4.11), in spite of the fact that it ends with a conflict against Antiochus VII and the campaign of Cendebeus, one of his generals, against Judea (15:38–41). At that time, John Hyrcanus and his brother Judas take over from their ageing father. There are several indications that John follows in the footsteps of his predecessors (i. e. his father and uncle). In 16:10, John, in pursuit of Cendebeus’ army, follows his men “to the towers in the fields of Azotus” and sets fire to them. This recalls Jonathan’s war against the troops of Apollonius (which led him to burn down Azotus and the surrounding cities), as well as – albeit more distantly – Judas’ campaign (1 Macc 5:68). As David Williams observes, the battle that Jonathan wages in 16:4–10 also finds a parallel in Judas’ conquest of Karnain in 1 Macc 5:37–44. Moreover, the deliberate echo between the statements concluding the accounts of the deeds of Judas and John Hyrcanus, in 1 Macc 9:22 and 16:23–24, implicitly but clearly creates a parallel between John and his uncle. The author of 1 Maccabees also posits a relationship of continuity between the three brothers – Judas, Jonathan, and Simon – and John Hyrcanus, with the notion that the “help” and “power” they have received came “from heaven” in the case of each of them (1 Macc 3:19; 12:15; 16:3).256 Israel Shatzman does not take into account this literary continuity, however, and considers that the policy of the Hasmoneans towards the “surrounding nations” took a dramatic new turn after the death of Judas. He argues that the reason for this shift lies in the new role that Jonathan and Simon played in the Seleucid kingdom: as well as being high priests, Jonathan and Simon were also effectively the representatives of Seleucid power (or at least of one of the factions claiming a right to power). As such, they could not afford to destroy the kingdom’s cities, except in extreme circumstances.257 This is a very pertinent observation, of course, but 255 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 498. 256 The Structure of 1 Maccabees, 111–113. 257 On the role that Jonathan played in the Seleucid kingdom, see also Stern, Hasmonean Judaea in the Hellenistic World: Chapters in Political History, 36; on the implications of the new role played by Jonathan and Simon for the evolution of the Hasmonean policy towards the nations, see Shatzman, “Jews and Gentiles,” 249–250. Similarly, Dabrowa writes that a shift took place and was connected with political ambition: “To emphasize the disctinction between the rebellion led by Judah and the activity of his brothers (Jonathan and Simon), the group they

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we should not exaggerate the differences between Judas, on the one hand, and Jonathan and Simon, on the other. Although the political and military context of their interventions differed, their ideology did not, at least from the perspective of the author of 1 Maccabees. He takes care to emphasize the continuity that exists between them, including John Hyrcanus. In fact, it is no longer possible to speak of a radical shift between Judas and his brothers once it is established that Judas did not in fact wage ․herem warfare against the “surrounding nations,” that his military campaigns were largely defensive operations, and that the battles described in chapter 5 can largely be ascribed to a rhetorical construction aiming to present him as the heir of Saul, the very first king of Israel. The reference to the Philistines and the models of Saul and David, in particular, create a relationship of continuity between Judas and his brothers. Once we realize how relatively few references there are in 1 Maccabees to Joshua, the conquest of the promised land, and the eradication of the Canaanites, the coherence of the account of the deeds of Judas, Jonathan, and Simon becomes clear. This also resolves a problem which the Hasmoneans raise for some scholars, such as Seth Schwartz, who writes that “… there is no record that any previous high priest except Jason and Menelaus had gone to war. Perhaps I should mention also their failure to observe the laws of war as prescribed in Deuteronomy 20, a failure that 1 Maccabees cannot conceal though not for lack of trying.”258 In reality, the author of 1 Maccabees does not insinuate at any point that the Hasmoneans should have acted on the prescriptions of Deut 20:15–18. Moreover, in the particular case of the expedition to Gilead described in chapter 5, we see the Hasmoneans more or less complying with the prescriptions regarding the cities located outside the promised land (Deut 20:10–14) – except perhaps for the commandment to enslave enemy women and children, but this can be explained by the fact that Judas’ objective was to bring the Jewish people of Gilead back to headed will subsequently be referred to as the Hasmonean party. In its activities, religious purposes and motivations clearly gave way to political aims” (The Hasmoneans and their State, 42). This distinction, which as we saw in the introduction goes back to the 19th century, seems a little simplistic to me, because it does not sufficiently deconstruct the rhetorical strategies that the author of 1 Maccabees devised in order to legitimate the Hasmoneans. 258 “A Note on the Social Type and Political Ideology of the Hasmonean Family,” 309. On the hatred that the Judeans supposedly show throughout 1 Maccabees towards non-Jews – which Seth Schwartz argues makes it impossible to date its redaction to the end of the second century B.C.E. – after the “conversions” of the Idumeans, Itureans, etc., see Williams, The Structure of 1 Maccabees, chapter 2, and especially p. 122: “In sum, while section three [14:16–16:24] reports about certain conflicts between the Jews on the one side, and Antiochus VII and his agents on the other, it does so with no evident hostility toward Gentiles. Thus, though Schwartz holds that I Maccabees reflects a stance of hatred towards Gentiles, this may fairly be said only of sections one and two of the book.” Indeed, this perception should be nuanced even within the two sections that Williams points to, since the Hasmoneans had a cordial relationship with distant nations. Cf. Schwartz, “The Other in 1 and 2 Maccabees”.

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Judea, not to take prisoners. More generally, it would be imprudent to suppose that the Judeans had to apply the prescriptions of Deuteronomy whenever they were fighting against the inhabitants of the coastal plain, or battling the Idumeans or other groups elsewhere. The biblical texts themselves (1 Sam – 2 Kgs) show that the war practices of the ancient Israelites were much more diverse than the rules set out in the Book of Deuteronomy suggest, and it would be very reductive to think that in the Hasmonean period the Deuteronomic laws represented the only legitimate form of warfare.

4.2.3 The wars waged by Judas, Jonathan and Simon, according to 2 Maccabees and Flavius Josephus Let us now focus on the issue of whether or not the Hasmoneans obeyed the laws set out in Deut 20 in light of the parallel narratives of 2 Maccabees and Flavius Josephus. In 2 Maccabees, Judas is initially portrayed spreading fear in the surrounding nations, raiding and burning down their cities and villages (8:6–7). Later, we read in 2 Macc 14:14, that the non-Jews who were settled in Judea took flight before Judas. However, on the whole, Judas and his men focus their campaigns on Nicanor and Bacchides, and their Seleucid armies. In chapter 8, which describes the first victory of the Judeans, they are said to have killed over 20,000 people (!) and taken “a great amount of booty.” After they have regained control of Jerusalem and the temple, and celebrated its dedication (2 Macc 10:1–8), Judas and his men enter into battle with Gorgias, as well as with the Idumeans, who harassed the Judeans who supported Judas.259 At this stage in the narrative, 2 Maccabees ­echoes 1 Macc 5, while diverging on several points. In 2 Maccabees, the Idumeans are said to have taken refuge in fortresses. Judas’ first assault on these strongholds is said to have killed 20,000 men. Then, after 9,000 men have taken refuge in two fortified towers (10:18), Judas also captures them and the figure of 20,000 casualties comes up again (10:23). According to some commentators,260 the campaign against the Idumeans described in 2 Macc 10:15–23 echoes the massacre of the sons of Baian in 1 Macc 5:4–5. However, the former does not mention a fire, let alone a ․herem, but merely the massacre of enemy troops.261 259 Unlike 1 Maccabees, 2 Maccabees claims that the Idumeans gave a warm reception to the Judeans that Judas had banned from Jerusalem (2 Macc 10:15). 260 See for example Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 411, note on v.15. 261 Félix-Marie Abel observes that the corruption of Simon’s soldiers, who allow some enemy troops to escape the towers in exchange for money recalls Achan’s transgression of the commandment to put everything to the ban (h.erem) in Josh 7 (Les livres des Maccabées, 412). However, Achan’s sin lay in his appropriation of part of the spoils of Jericho, which had explicitly been declared h.erem. In contrast, 2 Maccabees merely describes a classic scene of corruption and betrayal.

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Later, when Timothy, a Seleucid general based in Transjordan, attacks Judea, Judas fights back and lays siege to the stronghold where Timothy has taken refuge (2 Macc 10:32). Although the stronghold is identified as Gazara in the text, this could be a case of onomastic confusion between Gazara and the Transjordanian city of Iazer (1 Macc 5:8).262 Nevertheless, the name “Gazara” is unanimously attested in the manuscript tradition. Moreover, since the narrative presented in 2 Maccabees follows a different scenario than 1 Macc 5, the author may have deliberately wanted to portray Judas as the conqueror of Gazara, stripping Simon – of whom he was clearly not very fond (cf. 2 Macc 10:20–22 and 14:17) – of the prestige of taking the stronghold of the Seleucids in the Shephelah.263 Whatever the case may be, the enemies commit blasphemy – a recurrent theme in 2 Maccabees – during this incident, and Judas’ men storm the towers, burn down the blasphemers, conquer the city and kill Timothy (10:35–38). Another incident involves the population of Joppa, treacherously drowning the Jews living in their midst (12:3–4). Judas then launches a punitive expedition, burning down the city’s ships, its port and the people he finds there, before contemplating coming back to attack the city as a whole (12:5–7). After hearing rumours that the people of Jamnia wanted to kill the Jews living among them, he then launches a preventive campaign against Jamnia, and destroys their harbour and fleet, but does not seem to harm the people (12:8–9). Judas is described throughout as the right-hand man of God, “the fair judge”: in other words, he merely carries out a just punishment. Similarly, when, later on, Judas and his men are beset by Arabs, they merely defend themselves against an unwarranted act of aggression – indeed, Judas agrees to make peace with them when they surrender (10:10–12). Then comes the book’s account of the siege of Kaspin, a fortified city whose population have wronged Judas, although we are not told what they have done against him. Kaspin has often been identified as the city of Chaspho in Gilead, mentioned in 1 Macc 5:26 and 36, in which Jews were taken prisoner.264 The First Book of Maccabees mentions its fall, but does not elaborate further. As we have already seen in section I.3.3, in 2 Maccabees, this passage includes the only explicit reference to the Book of Joshua and this siege ends with a massacre. However, the text does not use the language associated with the ban (h ․erem), and the reference to Jericho is primarily there to remind the reader that God is all-powerful, which is one of the book’s two dominant theological ideas – the other is the Deuteronomic sequence “sin–punishment–repentance.” Compared with 1 Maccabees, God is much more explicitly presented as a warrior for Israel in 2 Maccabees,265 262 Grimm already suggested the possibility of such a confusion: indeed, for him, this slippage was a certainty (Das zweite, dritte und vierte Buch der Maccabäer, 163). 263 See Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 415. 264 See Abel, ibid., 435–436. 265 See 2 Macc 10:26, which explicitly makes reference to Exod 23:22.

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where he is able to grant victory even to a small band of men faced with a large army (cf. Deut 7:17–24; 20:1–4). In 2 Maccabees, God is so involved in the life of his people, that the text is filled with accounts of celestial visions, angelic interventions, and miraculous deliverances.266 The main biblical reference illustrating this clear theological tendency in 2 Maccabees is God’s spectacular and miraculous deliverance of Jerusalem in the days of Ezekiah and Sennacherib (2 Kgs 19:35): Judas mentions this episode on two occasions, in 2 Macc 8:19 and 15:22, in the context of the speeches he makes to his troops before leading them on the battlefield (cf. 1 Macc 7:41). The prayer in which he recalls the collapse of the walls of Jericho before launching the attack against Kaspin exhibits the same theological tendency, and does not imply that Judas wishes to reconquer the promised land. Later, during the battle of Karnion (the sanctuary of Astarte, probably equivalent with Karnain in 1 Macc 5:43–44), their enemies are terrified – by the manifestation of God, among other things – and start to kill each other, while Judas massacres 3,000 men (12:22). Once again, the text seeks to emphasize the power of God, and is based on well-known biblical precedents, such as Judges 7:21–22 (Gideon vs. Midian), 1 Sam 7:10 (Samuel vs. the Philistines) or 1 Sam 14:15 (Jonathan vs. the Philistines), which also evoke the fear that God instils in the enemy and the theme of men killing each other. Finally, Judas’ other campaigns, such as his battle against Nicanor in chapter 14–15, would be better described as defensive wars waged against the Seleucid armies. They have nothing to do with an attempt to either reconquer the promised land, or eradicate the worship of idols from the “Holy Land.” Although the enemies of Judas and the Judeans are often presented as blasphemous and idolatrous people, no ․herem is pronounced against them (which does not mean they cannot be massacred), and they are treated differently depending on whether they agree to surrender or decide to resist to the bitter end. Finally, there is the case of the cities who support the Jews, such as Scythopolis, to whose population Judas expresses his gratitude. The existence of such cities, in which polytheistic cults were the norm, makes it impossible to interpret the wars waged by Judas as a crusade against the “Canaanites,” or to argue that they were meant to eradicate the worship of idols in general. What do the works of Josephus have to tell us on this question? Very briefly, we can say that there is no question of an anathema or ban (h ․erem) against the peoples surrounding Judea or the enemies of the Hasmoneans in either the Judean War or Antiquities. Moreover, the enemies in question are never referred to as “Canaanites.” As mentioned in section 2, Josephus does not at any point suggest that the reconquest of the promised land was one of the objectives of the revolt of – or wars waged by – the first Hasmoneans, even if he does list the “purification of the land” 266 See 3:24–26; 5:1–4; 10:29–30; 11:8; 12:22 (although less explicit, this passage nevertheless recalls Deut 7:23); 15:11–16.

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among the noble deeds of Judas (Ant. 12.286). On the other hand, Josephus does state that Jonathan purified the people (as opposed to the land) from the impious elements in its midst (Ant. 13.34). As he rewrote the fifth chapter of 1 Maccabees, Josephus enumerated the victories of the Judeans against Bosora and Mella (perhaps Alema in 1 Maccabees 5:35), and gave an account of the massacre of Timothy’s soldiers in the sacred precinct of Enkranai (which tallies with Karnain in 1 Macc 5:43–44) (Ant. 12.336–344), before adding this rather strange remark: “he accomplished the destruction of the enemy under various forms” (ποικίλῃ χρησάμενος ἰδέᾳ τῆς ἀπωλείας τῶν πολεμίων, § 344, trans. Ralph Marcus, LCL, 179). According to Ralph Marcus, Thucydides used a similar phrase to describe particularly savage scenes of civil war carnage, for example when supplicants were killed in a sanctuary (3.81.5),267 or when the Thracians massacred children in a school in Mycalessos, which Thucydides describes as one of the more extreme atrocities committed during the war of the Peloponnese (Book 7.29.4–5).268 In the preceding paragraph Thucydides also evokes the indiscriminate killing of men, women, children, and animals, and even the attack of sanctuaries. It seems unlikely that Josephus deliberately sought to create a parallel between Judas’ wars and the atrocities of the Peloponnesian war. However, it is possible that one of the assistants he employed to ensure that his Antiquities were written in good Greek unwittingly allowed himself to let this literary reminiscence come to the fore. Whether this reminiscence was wittingly or unwittingly introduced, however, it has the effect of aligning the Hasmonean wars with those that marked the history of Greece. In other words, there is no mention of an anathema (h ․erem) in Antiquities, whereas this work does include a few Thucydidean reminiscences in its presentation of events, hardly conjuring the model of the holy war … On this point, it is also worth noting that when, in Ant. 12.353, Josephus returns to the end of 1 Macc 5 and describes the campaign that Judas “and his brothers” waged against the Idumeans, he writes that they destroyed the walls of Hebron, burned down its towers, “ravaged the foreign territory, including the city of Marisa” (ἐδῄουν τὴν ἀλλόφυλον χώραν καὶ Μάρισαν πόλιν),269 and laid Azotus to waste before returning to Judea. Josephus explains what happened to Marisa, unlike the author of 1 Maccabees, who does not say that it was defeated. 267 In Book 3 of his History of the Peloponnesian War (3.81.5), the Corcyreans kill their fellow citizens, including those who had shut themselves in the temple of Dionysus. Josephus’ account of the killing of people who had taken refuge in the sacred precinct of Enkranai may be drawing on his reminiscences of the work of Thucydides (or the reminiscences of one of his assistants, if he did not write this part alone). 268 On this episode, see B. Eck, “Essai pour une typologie des massacres en Grèce classique,” in Le massacre, objet d’histoire (ed. D. El Kenz; Paris: Gallimard, 2005), 72–120 and esp. 90–91. 269 I take this opportunity to note, in passing, that Josephus describes Idumea as a “foreign territory,” a non-Judean territory.

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However, he does not mention that Judas and his troops tore down the altars and burnt the carved images of their gods. In the work of Josephus, the wars waged by Judas were not campaigns against the worship of idols. Josephus also recalls Jonathan’s victorious campaigns against the army of Apollonius in Azotus. Although his narrative includes a detailed account of the battle (13.94–100), the main events are much the same as in 1 Maccabees: Jonathan burns down Azotus, the neighbouring villages and the temple of Dogon, killing those who have taken refuge inside (13.99). In accordance with 1 Macc 11:4–6, Josephus adds in § 104 that, during the visit of Ptolemy, the population of Azotus complained to him of the destruction of their temple, and of their territory having been laid to waste by Jonathan, who had also killed many of their men (which means, by the way, that the city of Azotus had not been totally destroyed and its population not comprehensively massacred). This does not stop Ptolemy from giving presents to Jonathan (13.105), just as Alexander had given Jonathan the territory of Ekron (102). Clearly, from Josephus’ perspective, this was politics as usual. The comments which the historian sometimes adds to his narrative also contribute to the impression that the Hasmonean wars were “normal” wars. Thus, when Jonathan attempts to rally the coastal cities to Antiochus VI, but Gaza closes its doors to him and pays the price for this decision before eventually surrendering (Ant. 13.148–152, based on 1 Macc 11:61–62), Josephus launches into considerations on the blindness of men, who fail to see what is good for them, until they have experienced the reversals of fortune at first hand (§ 152). If this type of generalization recalls Thucydides, according to Ralph Marcus, it also sets Jonathan’s wars in a larger perspective, making them intelligible to the Greek or Roman reader.270 Other small differences between the version of Josephus and 1 Maccabees corroborate the hypothesis that Josephus sees (or at least describes) the Hasmonean wars as “normal” wars, where practical considerations prevail over ideological matters, including ․herem. Thus, in Ant. 13.179, when Jonathan wages a war against the “Nabateans,” he takes their cattle and some prisoners, before selling them off in Damascus. The corresponding episode in 1 Macc 12:31–32 mentions Zabadean Arabs, but says nothing about the sale of cattle and prisoners in Damascus. However, based on what 1 Maccabees and Antiquities have to say on the increasing wealth of the Hasmoneans, it seems clear that they accrued significant riches from their wars.271 It is also worth recalling that in Against Apion (2.272), Josephus emphasizes that if the Jews show courage in war, it is not out of greed (πλεονεξία), i. e. because they 270 On the readership that Josephus aimed to reach with his Antiquities, see S. Mason, “‘Should Any Wish to Enquire Further’ (ANT. 1.25): The Aim and Audience of Josephus’s Judean Antiquities/Life,” in Understanding Josephus (ed. S. Mason; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 64–103. 271 On this point, see Part II, section 4.

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seek to appropriate the land of others, but because they wish to remain faithful to their laws. Conversely, in Josephus’ version of Jonathan’s letter to the Spartans, the Maccabean leader claims that the Judeans had to wage so many wars because of the greed (πλεονεξία) of their neighbours (compare Ant. 13.169 and 1 Macc 12:13– 15, which makes no mention of this). Later, in the context of the conflict between Simon and Antiochus VII, which is described in 1 Maccabees 15, Josephus adds another aside on the “covetousness and dishonesty” of Antiochus (13.225). Overall, Josephus is more explicit than the Books of the Maccabees on the (real or imagined) economic motivations behind the wars in which the Hasmoneans were involved.272 Although he does matter-of-factly relate the massacres that Judas and his brothers committed on a few occasions, at no point does he describe the Hasmoneans as the flag-bearers for Deuteronomic orthodoxy and the application of its prescriptions on ․herem warfare.

4.3 Do we encounter a “Canaanite” in a Hasmonean context? (1 Macc 9:37) A simple reading of 1 Maccabees suggests that – aside from one exception – its author never uses the word “Canaanites” to speak of Judea’s neighbouring peoples. It is only in 1 Macc 9:37 that the leader of a tribe that may have been Nabatean is described as “one of the great nobles of Canaan” (ἑνὸς τῶν μεγάλων μεγιστάνων Χανααν).273 The context of this passage is the following: after the death of Judas, Jonathan and Simon flee into the desert to escape Bacchides. Jonathan then sends his brother John among the Nabateans274 to ask them permission to leave their baggage with them (9:35).275 The “sons of Iambri from Medaba” (οἱ υἱοὶ Ιαμβρι οἱ ἐκ Μηδαβα) then burst onto the scene, seizing John. Vv. 38 and 42 give us to understand that this has fatal consequences for John and those who were with him. “After these developments, they announced to Jonathan and to Simon his brother that the sons of Iambri are holding a big wedding and are bringing the bride from Nadabath, a daughter of one of the great nobles of Canaan, with a large

272 However, 2 Maccabees is more explicit than 1 Maccabees (and Josephus, who bases himself on 1 Macc) on the fiscal aspects of the revolt. 273 All the MSS of the LXX use the word Χανααν. However, Josephus describes him as “one of the distinguished men among the Arabs, from the city of Nabatha” (ἀπὸ Ναβαθὰ πόλεως … τινὸς … τῶν ἐπιφανῶν παρὰ τοῖς Ἄραψιν, Ant. 13.18). 274 Josephus speaks of “Nabatean Arabs” (τοὺς Ναβαταίους Ἄραβας) (Ant. 13.10). 275 According to J. T. Milik, “la capitale nabatéenne jouissait en effet du droit d’asile, sinon impérial, tout au moins royal et traditionnel” (Milik, “La tribu des Bani ‘Amrat en Jordanie de l’époque grecque et romaine,” Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 24 [1980]: 41–54; the quotation is on p. 45).

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convoy” (1 Macc 9:37).276 Jonathan and Simon then decide to take their revenge and ambush them: “They rose up against them from the ambush and killed them. And many wounded fell, and the rest fled to the mountain, and they took all their spoils. And the wedding changed to mourning, and the sound of their musicians to lamentation” (1 Macc 9:40–41). The account of the Hasmoneans’ revenge is inspired by Amos 8:10 (“I will turn your feasts into mourning, and all your songs into lamentation”), which announces that God’s judgment is imminent: perhaps the author sought to present Simon and Jonathan as the instruments of divine justice? Whatever the case may be, their revenge is explicitly connected with John’s murder (v. 42: “they exacted vengeance for the blood of their brother”): in other words, this is not a war waged in the name of the ideology of Deuteronomy. In fact, even though Jonathan and Simon do kill a large number of people, they do not exterminate the whole group. In contrast, Josephus emphasizes that everyone was killed, and he explicitly mentions the death of the women and children (Ant. 13.20–21). Does this mean that he wished to present this massacre as ․herem warfare? Not necessarily. This could be an exemplary punishment, meant to illustrate the power and determination of the Hasmoneans. In general, Josephus does not seem to have had any qualms about describing massacres involving women and children, whether he was recalling biblical episodes or more recent events.277 A particularly significant passage in this respect is the account of the ․herem against the Amalekites in Ant. 6.136: That task having, in accordance with God’s prediction, been successfully achieved, he attacked the cities of the Amalekites; and when, some by engines of war, others by mining operations and exterior opposing walls, others by hunger and thirst, and yet others by other means, he had carried and stormed them all, he then proceeded to the slaughter of women and infants, deeming naught therein cruel or too savage for human nature to perform, first because they were enemies whom he was treating thus, and then because of the commandment of God, whom it was dangerous to disobey. (trans. H. St. J. Thackeray and Ralph Marcus, LCL, 235)

In other words, the simple fact that the sons of Iambri were the enemy may be considered a justification for their massacre. Moreover, Jonathan and Simon may be perceived to have satisfied divine justice with this act, even though they are not described as obeying an order received from God. Going back to the version of this episode presented in 1 Maccabees, it is worth emphasizing that the men introduced as the “great nobles of Canaan” are not the same as those who are responsible for the assassination of John – i. e. the sons of 276 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 491; Greek text : μετὰ τοὺς λόγους τούτους ἀπήγγειλαν Ιωναθαν καὶ Σιμωνι τῷ ἀδελφῷ αὐτοῦ ὅτι υἱοὶ Ιαμβρι ποιοῦσι γάμον μέγαν καὶ ἄγουσι τὴν νύμφην ἀπὸ Ναδαβαθ, θυγατέρα ἑνὸς τῶν μεγάλων μεγιστάνων Χανααν, μετὰ παραπομπῆς μεγάλης. 277 See for example Ant. 4.97; 192; 300; 305; 5.26; 67–68; etc.

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Iambri.278 The man referred to as “one of the great nobles of Canaan” is the father of the bride, who seems to live in Nadabath,279 as opposed to the city of Medaba/ Madaba, which is where the sons of Iambri come from. In other words, they formed two distinct groups, even if there is a possibility that they were related. It is therefore unfounded to interpret the word “Canaan” as an indirect justification for the massacre of the sons of Iambri: indeed, the text does not speak of a massacre of “Canaanites,” but of a tribe that was probably Arabic.280 This isolated use of the word “Canaan” in connection with the bride’s father, may simply be the result of a misreading of the Hebrew word Mā‘ōn, as Jonathan Goldstein suggests, pointing out that Symmachus’ translation of the term Mā‘ōn in Jdgs 10:12 is “Canaan” (as opposed to “Madiam” in the Septuagint).281 Taking this hypothesis further, it is also worth recalling that the Jewish texts from the Hellenistic and Roman periods

278 The identity of the “sons of Iambri” is uncertain. Some of the Greek MSS of 1 Maccabees –such as S – use the form αμβρ(ε)ι. According to Josephus, “the sons of Amaraios lay in ambush for him outside the city of Medaba” (ἐνεδρεύσαντες ἐκ Μηδάβας πόλεως οἱ Ἀμαραίου παῖδες αὐτόν) (Ant. 13.11). Ralph Marcus reminds us of Clermont-Ganneau’s suggestion that the word “Iambri” may be derived from “Ya‘amrû,” attested in a Nabatean inscription found in the vicinity of Madaba (RAO 2:185). A parallel has been established between the attested form of this word in Josephus’ Antiquities and the word “Amorites,” which may be the Hebrew term which was originally used in 1 Maccabees, especially in view of the fact that Num 21:29–31 mentions an Amorite city called Medeba. However, Marcus observes that Madaba was better known as a Moabite city; see Jewish Antiquities Books XII–XIV, 233. For Jonathan A. Goldstein, “they probably were Arabs” (I Maccabees, 384). Aryeh Kasher, who also considers that they were an Arabic tribe, adds: “At all events they are not to be identified automatically with the Nabateans, as some scholars are inclined to do” (Jews, Idumaeans, and Ancient Arabs, 35, n. 35). Indeed, relations between the Judeans and the Nabateans are said to be good in 1 Maccabees. Glen W. Bowersock observes that the account of the attack of Judas by Arabic tribes in 2 Macc 12:10–12 may have distorted the interpretation of 1 Macc 9, insofar as these nomads have been assimilated with the Nabateans. He argues that we must distinguish between these marauding bands of Arabs and the Nabateans, who occasionally also had to combat them. Following in the footsteps of Joseph Milik, he believes that the sons of Iambri should be identified as the Bani ‘Amrat Arabic tribe (or ‘Amraites) (see Bowersock, Roman Arabia [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983], 19–20; Milik, “La tribu des Bani ‘Amrat”). Maurice Sartre speculates that they may have been Nabateans (D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 365, n. 92) before referring to them as “Arabs” (p. 413). On marauding bands of Arabs in Transjordan at a slightly later time, see also B. Isaac, “Bandits in Judaea and Arabia,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 88 (1984): 171–203. 279 According to Rappaport, this town has not been identified; see The First Book of Maccabees, 239. Aryeh Kasher locates it to the south east of Medaba (Jews, Idumaeans, and Ancient Arabs, 36). For Milik, it was the village Nebo (“La tribu des Bani ‘Amrat,” 45). 280 Pace Abel (Les livres des Maccabées, 168) and Rappaport (The First Book of Maccabees, 239), according to whom the use of the word “Canaan” may imply an additional justification for the killing of the sons of Iambri, because of the prescription of h.erem warfare. However, this argument does not stand up to scrutiny, for the reasons I have just mentioned. 281 I Maccabees, 385.

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never refer to the non-Jewish peoples settled in “Eretz Israel” or its neighbouring countries as “Canaanites.”282 There may also be another explanation for the presence of the word “Canaan” in these lines from 1 Maccabees. In some of the texts of the Hebrew Bible, the word “Canaanite” (Kena‘ani) is used to mean “merchant” (for example, in Prov 31:24 or Isa 23:8).283 This meaning of the Hebrew term Kena‘ani probably comes from the connection between Canaan and Phoenicia, and the Phoenicians’ reputation as merchants. Now, in the Septuagint, this term is sometimes transliterated rather than translated. Thus, whereas the Hebrew text of Prov 31:24 has the strong and wise woman supply “the merchant (‫ )כנעני‬with sashes,” the Septuagint translation of this passage has her give “skirts to the Canaanites (τοῖς Χαναναίοις).” First, the Septuagint translator seems to have read a plural instead of a singular (maybe he had a different text); second, he did not understand the meaning of Kena‘ani in this case. Similarly, the expression “one of the great nobles of Canaan” in 1 Macc 282 See K. Berthelot, “Where may Canaanites be Found? Canaanites, Phoenicians and Others in Jewish Texts from the Hellenistic and Roman Period,” in The Gift of the Land and the Fate of the Canaanites in the History of Jewish Thought (ed. K. Berthelot et al.; New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 253–274. In Theodotion’s version of Susanna 1:56, one of the wicked elders is accused of being an “offspring of Canaan (σπέρμα Χανααν) and not of Judah,” clearly in order to emphasize his iniquity. However, Susanna’s accuser is in fact Judean. See Susanna. Daniel. Bel et Draco (ed. J. Ziegler et al.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999), 230–31; D. M. Kay, The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament (ed. R. H. Charles: London: Clarendon Press, 1913), 1:651; C. A. Moore, Daniel, Esther and Jeremiah: the Additions (AB 44; New York: Doubleday, 1977), 107, 111–112. The Septuagint version uses the word “Sidon” instead of “offspring of Canaan”; this variant shows the close association between the Sidonians and the Canaanites in Jewish sources (starting with Gen 10:15). Mt 15:22 uses the phrase “Canaanite woman” (γυνὴ Χαναναία) to describe what Mark calls a “woman … of Syrophoenician origin” (Mk 7:26). Insofar as this incident takes place in the area around Tyre and Sidon, this text also illustrates the connection between the Canaanites and the Phoenicians. Thus, Ulrich Luz writes that the word “‘Canaanite’ (Χαναναῖος) is not only a biblical expression for ‘Gentile,’ but presumably also the self-designation of the Phoenicians at the time of Matthew. The Syrian Matthew, who perhaps knew Aramaic, would then have replaced the typically ‘western’ designation ‘Syro-Phoenician’ (Συροφοινίκισσα) (Mark 7:26) with his own ‘local’ designation” (Matthew 8–20. A Commentary [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001], 338). However, the word “Canaanite” is not a biblical term for non-Jews in general, and it was not used in this way in the Jewish texts of the first century C.E. In my view, Luz misses the pejorative connotation of the word “Canaanite.” In the Gospel of Matthew, the use of the word “Canaanite” (instead of “Syrophoenician”) is intentional: it is meant to evoke the most abominable group of idol worshipers ever encountered by Israel. See W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1991), 2:547; F. W. Beare, The Gospel According to Matthew (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1981), 341 (he sees the Canaanites as Israel’s traditional enemy); J. M. C. Scott, “Matthew 15.21–28: A Test-Case for Jesus’ Manners,” JSNT 63 (1996):21–44. Scott argues that by agreeing to cure the daughter of the Canaanite woman, Jesus creates a paradigm in which the “Gentiles” can be integrated within the Judeo-Christian community. 283  See also the association between Canaan and traders in Ezek 17:4 and Zeph 1:11.

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9:37 seems to be a misreading or misinterpretation of the original Hebrew text, which could have originally meant “one of the great nobles among the merchants” or even (with a slightly shorter Hebrew text) “one of the great merchants.”284 If so, the only reference to Canaan or the Canaanites in 1 Maccabees would be even less significant. Going back to the question which we asked at the start of this section – i. e. what models did the Hasmoneans invoke in their wars against their enemies – the answer is that nowhere in 1 Maccabees are the “surrounding nations” said to be descended from the Canaanites, and nowhere are the Hasmoneans presented as putting into practice the prescriptions of Deut 20:15–18. Conversely, however, Deut 20:10–14 does probably constitute the background for the description of some of the episodes related in chapter 5, and the model of the wars that Saul and David waged against the Philistines does play a major role not only in the part of the book that focuses on Judas, but also in the section on the wars waged by Jonathan, with the assistance of Simon.

5. Did the Hasmoneans attempt to purify the land? There are a number of references in 1 Maccabees to the purification of certain places, after they are taken back from the Seleucids or conquered for the first time. These purifications, which are generally linked to the eradication of idol worship, have been interpreted by some commentators as an indication that the Hasmoneans considered that their conquered territories belonged to the land of Israel and thus had to be cleansed of any idolatrous practices.285 It should hardly come as a surprise if, in the second century B.C.E., a large section of the Judean population felt a strong aversion towards non-Judean cults and peoples, and perceived these cults as impure, since both the textual and archeological data show that this period coincided with an increasing concern with ritual purity in Judean society.286 However, unlike Leviticus (18:26–29), Deuteronomy does not at any point make a connection between the purity or impurity of the land and idol worship. The possibility that land (adamah) may be defiled is only 284  For an example of a strange misreading leading to the unexpected presence of the word “Chanaanitis” (the area of Canaan) in the Greek text, compare Zech 11:7 MT and LXX. 285 This is for example what Kasher implies, reading between the lines, in “The Changes in Manpower and Ethnic Composition of the Hasmonaean Army (167–63 BCE),” 344. 286 The Qumran manuscripts provide ample evidence of this concern, as do the many miq­ vaot or ritual baths found in Judean sites (even if their increasing number is even better attested in the first century B.C.E. and in the first century C.E.). See Andrea Berlin, “Manifest Identity: From Ioudaios to Jew. Household Judaism as Anti-Hellenization in the Late Hasmonean Era,” in Between Cooperation and Hostility: Multiple Identities in Ancient Judaism and the Interaction with Foreign Powers (R. Albertz and J. Wöhrle, ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), 151–175; E. Regev, The Hasmoneans, 251–257.

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mentioned in the context of the law on hanging, which says that a corpse must not be allowed to hang on a tree all night (Deut 21:22–23).287 However, the worship of idols is vigorously condemned in many passages of Deuteronomy, and the destruction of Canaanite ritual objects prescribed. The worship of idols and the impurity of the land therefore do not necessarily go hand in hand. There are in fact only a few references in 1 Maccabees to the purification of a given site. Only a small number of well-determined places are described as having been cleansed.288 An analysis of these places and of the context of their purification allows us to determine the signification and the function of these passages in the book. The first mention of purification concerns the sanctuary: it happens on the initiative of “Judas and his brothers,” whereas in 2 Macc 10:1, it is decided by “Maccabeus and those who (were) with him” (Μακκαβαῖος δὲ καὶ οἱ σὺν αὐτῷ) and the text makes no special mention of his brothers. The following excerpt is an account of the key aspects of this purification in 1 Maccabees: 36 But Judas and his brothers said, ‘Look, our enemies have been smashed. Let us go up to purify and rededicate the holy places.’ … 41 Then Judas ordered men to fight those in the citadel until he could purify the holy places. 42 And he selected uncorrupted priests, devotees of the law, 43 and they purified the holy places and took the stones of pollution to an unclean place. … 47 And they took whole stones according to the law and built a new altar like the former one. 48 And they built the holy places and the inner areas of the house and sanctified the courts. 49 And they made new holy vessels and brought the lamp stand and the altar of incense and the table into the shrine. … 52 And they arose on the morning of the twenty-fifth of the ninth month, this being the month Chaseleu (Kislev), of the one hundred and forty-eighth year, 53 and they offered sacrifice according to the law on the new altar of whole burnt offerings that they made. … 57 And they decorated the façade of the shrine with gold crowns and small shields and renewed the gates and priest’s chambers and furnished them with doors. … 60 And they constructed at that time all around Mount Zion high walls and fortified towers so that the nations would not return and trample them down as they did before. 61 And he stationed a force there to defend it, and he 287 On the different conceptions, in the “Holiness Code” (Lev 17–26) and Deuteronomy, of Israel’s relationship to the land and the purity of the land, see Jan Joosten, People and Land in the Holiness Code: An Exegetical Study of the Ideational Framework of the Law in Leviticus 17–26 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 175–180. This is what he writes about Deuteronomy: “The notion of ­YHWH’s presence in the land and hence his lordship over it are entirely absent from Deutero­ nomy. Indeed, for all its importance in Deuteronomic theology, the land is there entirely desacralized” (177). 288 There is also a reference, on one occasion, to the impurities (linked to idol worship) that Antiochus IV wishes to impose on the Jews, forcing them “to make their souls abominable in every unclean and profane thing” (βδελύξαι τὰς ψυχὰς αὐτῶν ἐν παντὶ ἀκαθάρτῳ καὶ βεβηλώσει, 1 Macc 1:48). This passage – in particular, the phrase “to make their souls abominable” – recalls Lev 11:43 (on reptiles and other forbidden foods), καὶ οὐ μὴ βδελύξητε τὰς ψυχὰς ὑμῶν ἐν πᾶσι τοῖς ἑρπετοῖς τοῖς ἕρπουσιν ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς καὶ οὐ μιανθήσεσθε ἐν τούτοις καὶ οὐκ ἀκάθαρτοι ἔσεσθε ἐν αὐτοῖς.

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fortified it to defend Baithsoura (Beth-Zur) so that the people would have a fortress facing Idumea. (1 Macc 4:36–61; trans. Zervos, NETS, 485)289

The purification of the sanctuary is associated with the dedication of the new altar, erected in accordance with Deut 27:5–6, which would later be celebrated on the twenty-fifth day of the month of Kislev. This episode marks the moment when the legitimacy of Judas (and his family, in the perspective of the author of 1 Maccabees) is established, designating him as the rightful leader of Judea. As Sylvie Honigman observes, the purification of the sanctuary and the dedication of the new altar coincide with the re-foundation of the temple. Now, the foundation – or refoundation – of a temple was originally a royal privilege, as Mesopotamian texts and the account of the foundation of the first temple by Solomon ­demonstrate. More generally, in the ancient Near East, a king was characteristically a builder of new structures. Thus, according to 1 Kgs 9:15–16, Solomon did not merely build the temple, but also a palace, located close to the temple and closely connected with it, the “Millo” (another structure located in Jerusalem), the walls of Jerusalem, and the cities of Hazor, Megiddo and Gezer (after it was burned down by Pha­ raoh, according to 1 Kgs 9:16).290 To this list, the First Book of Kings adds “Lower Beth-Horon, Baalath, Tamar in the wilderness, within the land, as well as all of Solomon’s storage cities, the cities for his chariots, the cities for his cavalry, and whatever Solomon desired to build, in Jerusalem, in Lebanon, and in all the land of his dominion” (1 Kgs 9:17–19). The First Book of Kings (9:26) also adds another detail, which helps us to put the descriptions found in 1 Maccabees in perspective: “King Solomon built a fleet of ships at Ezion-geber, which is near Eloth on the shore of the Red Sea, in the land of Edom.” After the Hasmoneans, the case of Herod also shows how enduring the paradigm of the king as builder still was. Although Herod was also influenced by Greek and Roman models,291 and although his taste for architecture is clear,292 it is possible to think that he may have wished to be seen as Solomon’s heir, and to interpret his decision to enlarge the temple’s precincts and embellish the sanctuary as an attempt to acquire the royal legitimacy that his lineage compromised.293 289 The language of purification is particularly concentrated in vv. 36 and 41–43: 36 Εἶπεν δὲ Ιουδας καὶ οἱ ἀδελφοὶ αὐτοῦ Ἰδοὺ συνετρίβησαν οἱ ἐχθροὶ ἡμῶν, ἀναβῶμεν καθαρίσαι τὰ ἅγια καὶ ἐγκαινίσαι. … 41 τότε ἐπέταξεν Ιουδας ἀνδράσιν πολεμεῖν τοὺς ἐν τῇ ἄκρᾳ, ἕως καθαρίσῃ τὰ ἅγια. 42 καὶ ἐπελέξατο ἱερεῖς ἀμώμους θελητὰς νόμου, 43 καὶ ἐκαθάρισαν τὰ ἅγια καὶ ἦραν τοὺς λίθους τοῦ μιασμοῦ εἰς τόπον ἀκάθαρτον. 290 See Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 38, 104, 147–177. 291 Herod behaved like an euergetēs; see C.-G. Schwentzel, Hérode le Grand (Paris: Pygmalion, 2011), 105–108 (106 for the list of the towns which benefited from this). 292 On this point, see E. Netzer, The Architecture of Herod, the Great Builder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). 293 See S. Rocca, Herod’s Judaea: A Mediterranean State in the Classical World (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 25–28. See also C.-G. Schwentzel, Hérode le Grand, 92–105, esp 96–100; idem, Juifs et Nabatéens, 113–116.

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Considering what I have said (I.3.4) about the tendency of certain Judean s­ ources from the Second Temple period to associate sacerdotal and royal functions (even when the Judean leaders did not lay claim to the royal title), it is not ­surprising to see the royal role of the builder attributed to a high priest in some of them. Thus, the high priest Simon is praised for his activity as a builder in chapter 50 of the Wisdom of Ben Sira, in a passage that comes immediately after a ca­ talogue of the great figures of Israel and their deeds: Simon son of Onias was the great priest, he who in his life repaired a house and in his days fortified a shrine. 2 And by him the height of the courtyard was founded, a high retaining structure of the temple enclosure. 3 In his days a cistern for water was quarried, a reservoir like the circumference of a sea. 4 He who gave heed to his people out of calamity and strengthened the city in a siege. (50:1–4; trans. Benjamin G. Wright, NETS, 760)294

Indeed, Simon son of Onias and Judas Maccabeus share some interesting characteristics: not only did they both restore or fortify the temple, but they both erected walls and fortified Jerusalem to protect it against the enemies of the Judeans. These activities are precisely the type of building work for which the leader of the people is responsible. They are the hallmark of a ruler or governor (according to the model of Nehemiah, whose principal function as governor of Judea was to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem).295 Although the purification of the sanctuary, the dedication of a new altar and the erection of walls around the city conferred royal legitimacy onto Judas Maccabeus, or at least designated him incontrovertibly as the leader of the ethnos, did these activities also confer legitimacy onto his brothers? In the case of the author of 2 Maccabees, this is far from clear.296 As we have already pointed out earlier, 294 Tessa Rajak also notes the significance of the theme of the leader as builder; she writes: “Simon’s first achievement was the fortification of the Temple, his second, the preparation of the city against siege” (“Hasmonean Kingship,” 43). 295 See Neh 2–4; 6:1; 7:1; etc.; Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 111–114. 296 My argument diverges on this point from that of Sylvie Honigman, according to whom 2 Maccabees and 1 Maccabees both seek to legitimate the Hasmonean dynasty. While I agree that 2 Maccabees presents a clearly favourable picture of Judas, and that the refoundation of the temple in connection with the purification on the twenty-fifth day of Kislev obviously confers legitimacy onto him, I am not convinced that this book is as favourable to his brothers. Sylvie Honigman (Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 69 and 433) argues that the legitimacy of a dynasty’s founding figure legitimizes his successors, but she only supports this argument with a reference to T. P. Wiseman on Roman historiography (Clio’s Cosmetics: Three Studies in Greco-Roman Literature [Leicester: 1979]). She seems to forget that in the Hebrew Bible, just and pious kings can have impious children (and vice versa). In other words, the biblical universe which is the immediate reference point of the Books of Maccabees does not necessarily operate like the Roman world. Moreover, Judas’ brothers were not his descendants. Finally, Daniel Schwartz’ dating of 2 Maccabees suggests that the book may in fact have been written before 152 B.C.E. – in other words, the author may not have known what the future lay in store for the dynasty.

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regarding 1 Macc 4:36 and 2 Macc 10:1, the author of 2 Maccabees does not necessarily establish a close association between Judas and his brothers – indeed, his portrait of Simon is hardly very flattering. In contrast, the author of 1 Maccabees weaves a web of correspondences, echoes and close parallels between the deeds of Judas, Jonathan, Simon and John. This not only implies that they are the rightful rulers of Judea, but increases their legitimacy through an effect of accumulation. Indeed, the author clearly seeks to show that there was a certain unity and continuity between the deeds of these different Hasmonean protagonists, and in particular between those of Judas and his brothers. Thus, they all sought, each in their turn, to obtain or renew an alliance with Rome. They also were all involved in rebuilding and fortifying various structures (the temple, a citadel, etc.). Of Jona­ than, 1 Macc 12:35–37 says that together with the elders, he decided to “build fortresses in Judea and to elevate the walls of Jerusalem and to raise up a high wall between the citadel and the city … And they gathered together to build the city, and part of the wall of the wadi to the east had fallen, and he repaired that which was called Chaphenatha.”297 The author immediately adds in v. 38 that Simon rebuilt and fortified the citadel of Adida, on the coastal plain. In 13:33, we are told that Simon also rebuilt the citadels of Judea, with great towers, high walls, gates and bolts.298 The emphasis that the text places on the Hasmoneans’ focus on rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem and the citadels of Judea brings to mind Solomon, as well as Nehemiah. In fact, however, this emphasis merely exhibits the topos of the ruler’s attributes, as the case of Simon son of Onias also demonstrates in the Wisdom of Ben Sira. This being said, the author of 1 Maccabees refers to Judas’ fortification of Beth-Zur at the end of his account of the purification of the sanctuary and the dedication of the new altar in 1 Macc 4. This allows him to establish two parallels with Jonathan (the walls of Jerusalem; the Judean citadels) and, as we shall see, three parallels between Judas and Simon (the restoration of the temple or its adja-

297  Trans. Zervos, NETS, 497. 298 Compare with Ant. 13.180 (and 184), in which 1 Macc 12:33–34 and 13:33 seem to overlap in Josephus’ mind: “About the same time his brother Simon went through all Judaea and Palestine as far as Ascalon, making their fortresses secure and strengthening them with works and guards, and then went to Joppa, occupied it and introduced a large garrison into it; for he had heard that the inhabitants of Joppa were ready to deliver up their city to Demetrius’ generals” (§ 180, trans. Ralph Marcus, LCL, 317). It is also worth noting the distinction that Josephus draws between Judea and Palestine, which refers in these lines to the coastal plain where the ancient Philistine pentapolis was located. On the meaning of Palaistinē in ancient literature, see R. de Vaux, “Les Philistins dans la Septante,” in Wort, Liebe und Gottesspruch: Beiträge zur Septuaginta: Festschrift für Joseph Ziegler (ed. J. Schreiner; Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 1972), 185–194; L. H. Feldman, “Some Observations on the Name of Palestine,” in Studies in Hellenistic Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 553–576.

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cent citadel; the completion of the walls of Jerusalem;299 the reinforcement of the citadels of Judea, notably Beth-Zur). The parallels between Judas and Simon are the most striking. Indeed, the text’s account of Simon’s refounding and building activities and the reference to Judas evidently seek to confer a double aura of legitimacy onto Simon. It is also worth recalling the testament of Mattathias, which stipulates that Simon shall be “as a father” to his brothers, and that Judas “shall be commander of the army” and lead the revolt (1 Macc 2:65–66). This passage clearly reads as an apology of Simon, connecting his legitimacy with that of Judas. It is also not coincidental if the next account of the purification of a site by the Hasmoneans after the description of Judas’ purification of the sanctuary in chapter 4, occurs in connection with Simon’s conquest of Gazara, and after that of the Acra, in chapter 13: 47 Simon reconciled with them [the inhabitants of Gazara] and did not fight them but ejected (ἐξέβαλεν) them from the city and cleansed (ἐκαθάρισεν) the houses in which the idols were. And thus he entered it singing hymns and praises. 48 And he removed from it every uncleanness (ἐξέβαλεν ἐξ αὐτῆς πᾶσαν ἀκαθαρσίαν) and settled in it men who observed the law, and he further fortified (προσωχύρωσεν) it and built in it a residence for himself. 49 Now those who were in the citadel in Jerusalem were prevented from going in and going out into the country to buy and sell. And they became very hungry, and plenty of them perished in the famine. 50 And they cried out to Simon to make peace, and he gave it to them. But he ejected (ἐξέβαλεν) them from there and cleansed (ἐκαθάρισεν) the citadel from the impurities (ἀπὸ τῶν μιασμάτων). 51 And they entered it on the twenty-third day of the second month of the one hundred seventy-first year with praises and palms and with cinyrasa and cymbals and nablasb and with hymns and with odes that a great enemy was eliminated from Israel. 52 And he established that that day be observed every year with gladness. And he fortified (προσωχύρωσεν) the temple mount beside the citadel, and he himself and those with him resided there. 53 And Simon saw his son John, that he had become a man, and he made him commander of all the forces, and he resided in Gazara. (trans. Zervos, NETS, 498–499)

The purification of the citadel clearly echoes Judas’ purification of the sanctuary (among other things) because the text explicitly states that the population of the citadel threatened the purity of the temple (1 Macc 14:36). In other words, Simon in fact completed the purification and the refoundation of the temple. The fact that the capture of the citadel prompts Simon to establish a festival similar to the celebration of twenty-five Kislev corroborates this reading. Moreover, this additional festival linked to the temple mount also recalls the institution of the Day of Nicanor on the 13th of Adar in 2 Maccabees (15:36). This is yet 299 According to 1 Macc 13:10, after Trypho’s capture of Jonathan, Simon “hurried to finish the walls of Jerusalem and he fortified it all around”.

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another attempt by the author to establish parallels between Judas and Simon, and to base Simon’s legitimacy on that of Judas. In contrast, in Jewish Antiquities, Josephus provides us with a very different account of the fate of the citadel: he describes Simon levelling it to the ground, without any concern for its purification (Ant. 13.215), even though he does mention Judas’ purification of the sanctuary (Ant. 12.316–318). Although it seems unlikely that the author of 1 Maccabees, whose lifetime was not very far removed from the period when these events took place would have deliberately sought to mislead his readers on such an important point, it is nevertheless important to mention this divergence between his account and Josephus’, because it highlights the legitimating function of 1 Maccabees. The purification of Gazara and the citadel are in fact intimately associated, as suggests their close succession in the book and the fact that the language used to describe them is similar. The parallels between the two narratives (the non-­violent expulsion of the citadel’s occupants, after they have surrendered; its purification; the building of a palace) thus have an ideological function – the connection between these two places implicitly reinforces the legitimacy of the dynasty’s continued hold on power. In both cases, these purifications lead to the creation of a palace for the Hasmonean dynasty: one in the citadel of Jerusalem for Simon, and the other in Gazara for John, his successor. It is interesting to note that, strictly speaking, the dynastic principle is established with Simon and John. The author takes care to mention that Gazara was cleansed of idolatrous practices and that pious men took up residence there. Gazara is the only place to be purified in the book, except for the temple and the citadel in Jerusalem: this is clearly because John Hyrcanus settles there. The First Book of Maccabees does not mention the purification of other citadels and cities, such as Beth-Zur and Joppa, despite the idolatrous cults of their original populations and the fact that Judean troops set up their quarters there, taking their place.300 Finally, let us not forget that Simon’s decision to set up his palace in Jerusalem (in the citadel) recalls Solomon’s erection of both the temple and the palace, according to the First Book of Kings. In fact, there are so many such parallels between Solomon et Simon, that Adrian Schenker calls Simon “Salomon redivivus.”301 After that, 1 Maccabees only resorts to the language of purification to recall Simon’s victory against the occupants of the citadel and its purification. The fact that both passages occur in chapter 14, in the “Eulogy of Simon” (14:4–15) and the decree of the people in honour of Simon (14:27–47) respectively, once again

300 See in particular 1 Macc 4:61 and 14:33–34. 301 “Die zweimalige Einsetzung Simons des Makkabäers zum Hohenpriester, ” in Recht und Kult im Alten Testament (Fribourg: Éditions universitaires de Fribourg, 2000), 158–169 (see 159–161).

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emphasizes the ideological and legitimating function of the narratives of purification.302 In the Eulogy, we are reminded that Simon widened the borders of his nation and controlled the country. And he gathered many captives and dominated Gazara and Baithsoura (Beth-Zur) and the citadel, and he took away the uncleanness from it (καὶ ἐξῆρεν τὰς ἀκαθαρσίας ἐξ αὐτῆς), and there was no one to oppose him. (1 Macc 14:6–7; trans. Zervos, NETS, 499)

It is worth noting that what is emphasized here is the purification of the citadel, which was probably equivalent with a portion of the sanctuary. Similarly, this is what we read in chapter 14 (v. 36–37): 36 And in his days he was successful in removing by his hands the nations from their country (ἐκ τῆς χώρας αὐτῶν),303 and those in the city of David and those in Jerusalem 302 On the people’s decree in favour of Simon, which has been compared with the decrees in honour of Greek and Macedonian rulers that were obtained by vote in Greek cities, as well as with the honorific decrees issued to the Ptolemaic dynasty, which came from a line of Hellenized Egyptian priests, see Grimm, Das erste Buch der Maccabäer, 212; Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 254–255; Sievers, The Hasmoneans and their Supporters, 119–127; Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 403–405 (who remarks: “Simon se voit reconnaître les qualités que l’on attend des souverains hellénistiques: il veille au bien-être du peuple, le protège, assure la paix, veille à sa gloire. Simon mériterait sans doute les épithètes de ‘Sôter,’ ‘Euergétès,’ ‘Philanthrôpos’ et ‘Philotimos’”); E. Krentz, “The Honorary Decree for Simon the Maccabee,” in Hellenism in the Land of Israel (J. J. Collins and G. E. Sterling, ed.; Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001), 146–153 (Krentz concludes that “the translator, working at a later date, shaped the Greek text to support the heirs of Simon’s claim to the hereditary kingship, signaled by permission to issue coinage (1 Macc 15:6). By casting, somewhat incompletely, the elevation of Simon into the language of enkomiastic decrees honoring Hellenistic rulers, the author of 1 Maccabees positioned Simon’s heirs well and thus served the Hasmonean dynasty’s ongoing claim to regal status”); J. W. van Henten, “The Honorary Decree for Simon the Maccabee (1 Macc 14:25–49) in Its Hellenistic Context,” in Hellenism in the Land of Israel, 116–145; idem, “Royal Ideology: 1 and 2 Maccabees and Egypt,” in Jewish Perspectives on Hellenistic Rulers (ed. T. Rajak et al.; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007), 265–282 (see 266–268); G. Gardner, “Jewish Leadership and Hellenistic Civic Benefaction in the Second Century B.C.E,” JBL 126 (2007): 327–343 (see 332–337; he concludes on p. 337 that “the decree for Simon Maccabee is modeled along the lines of Hellenistic-era euergetism: Simon’s achievements are cast as ‘benefactions,’ and his powers and titles as ‘rewards.’ Yet it also reflects characteristically Jewish sensitivities and tastes, which account for the unique features that distinguish it from contemporaneous decrees”); Van der Kooij, “The Claim of Maccabean Leadership,” 29–32; Schwentzel, Juifs et Nabatéens, 54; Rappaport, The House of the Hasmoneans, 217–226 (who sees the similitudes with Hellenistic decrees, but considers that its contents reflect a Jewish national and religious point of view [see p. 218]); Babota, The Institution of the Hasmonean High Priesthood, 225–231, 253–266. Adrian Schenker points out an interesting parallel between Simon’s accession to power in two stages (his power is ratified by the people a posteriori) and a tradition that comes from the Chronicles, according to which Solomon was anointed king a second time by the people (1 Chr 29:21–25) (“Die zwei­ malige Einsetzung”). 303 George T. Zervos translates ἐκ τῆς χώρας αὐτῶν with “from his country,” withough taking into account the fact that the possessive is in the plural, even though this plural is attested in all the manuscripts. This use of the plural is ambiguous, insofar as it can designate the

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who had built a citadel for themselves out of which they would come and desecrate the vicinity of the holy places and do great harm to its purity (καὶ ἐμίαινον κύκλῳ τῶν ἁγίων καὶ ἐποίουν πληγὴν μεγάλην ἐν τῇ ἁγνείᾳ). 37 And he settled Judean men in it and fortified it for the security of the country and city (πρὸς ἀσφάλειαν τῆς χώρας καὶ τῆς πόλεως), and he heightened the walls of Jerusalem. (trans. Zervos, NETS, 500)

Once again, impurity and purification are only mentioned in connection with the citadel and the sanctuary, as well as the episode related in chapter 13. In conclusion, there is no mention at any point in 1 Maccabees of the purification of the land, nor indeed of the desecration of the land. More importantly, in order to produce a pertinent interpretation of the accounts in the text of the purification of the sanctuary, the citadel and Gazara, we must examine them in light of the literary and rhetorical strategies of the author, who uses motifs associated with kingship (the refoundation of the temple, building activities) to legitimate the rule of the Hasmonean dynasty.

6. The “inheritance of our fathers” (1 Macc 15:33–35) As we saw in the General Introduction, the historians who consider that the Hasmonean wars were the consequence of a plan to reconquer the promised land almost systematically invoke a specific passage (1 Macc 15:33–35) in which Simon mentions “the inheritance of our fathers” (ἡ κληρονομία τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν). They understand this phrase to refer to the land that God gave to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and that was later conquered by the Israelites; as such, they interpret “the inheritance of our fathers” as a reference to the promised land as a whole. However, it seems to me that it is misleading to read these words through this biblical framework. The actual meaning of verses 33–35 should become clearer after I have analysized them closely, reading them in the context of both chapter 15 and the book as a whole, and in light of both their possible intertextuality with the biblical tradition and the diplomatic language in use in the Hellenistic world at the time. Chapter 15 of 1 Maccabees opens on a letter from Antiochus VII to Simon and the Judean ethnos. In this letter, Antiochus explains that he intends to reconquer “the kingdom of our fathers,” and confirms that the Judeans will be granted the same exemptions under his rule as under the kings that came before him. He “nations” or the Judeans (the Judean people are mentioned at the end of v. 35, and although this term is in the singular, its collective meaning may justify the use of the plural in the following sentence: at any rate, this type of variant is attested in the Qumran manuscripts, for example). Its seems to me that it is preferable to understand αὐτῶν as a reference to the Judeans, and the term χώρα as a reference to Judea. It seems unlikely that the author of 1 Maccabees would have stated that the Judeans chased the nations out of their own land. See my analysis of 1 Macc 15 in Part I, section 6 (infra) for a confirmation of this reading.

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also guarantees the freedom of Jerusalem and the temple, and allows the Judeans to keep control of various citadels, as well as of their own coinage, which is a new concession. However, later on, when he is on the verge of winning a victory over Trypho, Antiochus VII changes his stance towards Simon: refusing Simon’s offer of help, he sends the Judeans a message through Athenobius. I must quote the account of this conflict in its integrality, starting with the accession to power of the Seleucid ruler: 1 And Antiochus son of Demetrius the king sent letters from the islands of the sea to Simon the priest and ethnarch of the Judeans and to all the nation. 2 And their contents were like this: “King Antiochus to Simon the great priest and ethnarch and the nation of the Judeans, greeting. 3 Since certain corrupt men gained control of the kingdom of our fathers, I want to lay claim to the kingdom so that I can restore it as it was formerly, and I have recruited a multitude of forces and have prepared warships, 4 and I want to disembark into the country so that I can go after those who have corrupted our country and those who have devastated many cities in my kingdom. 5 Now then, I confirm for you all the (exemption from) tribute from which the kings before me exempted you and as many other payments as they exempted you. 6 And I have given permission for you to make your own die for coinage in your own country 7 and for Jerusalem and the holy places to be free. And all the weapons that you have prepared and the fortresses that you have built and now control, let them be yours. 8 And every royal debt and the future royal debts from the present and for all time, let them be annulled for you. 9 And when we establish our kingdom, we will glorify you and your nation and the temple with great glory so that your glory will become apparent in all the earth.” … 28. And he sent to him Athenobius, one of his Friends, to converse with him, saying, “You are in control of Joppe and Gazara and the citadel in Jerusalem, which are cities of my kingdom. 29 You have devastated their regions and have done great harm in the land and have taken control of many places in my kingdom. 30 Now then, turn over the cities that you have taken and the taxes of the places of which you have taken possession outside the boundaries of Judea. 31 Or if not, instead of them give five hundred talents of silver for the destruction that you have caused, and for the taxes of the cities another five hundred talents. Or if not, we will come and make war upon you.” 32 And Athenobius, the Friend of the king, came to Jerusalem and saw the glory of Simon and a cabinet for wine cups with gold and silver plate and considerable ostentation, and he was astounded and announced to him the words of the king. 33 And answering, Simon said to him, “Neither have we taken a foreign land, nor (a land belonging to) others, but the inheritance of our fathers, which was held unjustly by our enemies for a certain time. 34 But we, seizing the occasion, are clinging to the inheritance of our fathers. 35 But concerning Joppe and Gazara, which you claim, they were doing great harm to the people and to our country;304 for these we will give one hundred talents.” And (Athenobius) did not answer a word to him 36 but returned with wrath to the king and reported 304 The Codex Sinaiticus, which W. Kappler follows, has a curious accusative (και την χωραν ημων); however, the Alexandrinus and Vaticanus codices have a dative (και τη χωρα [or: γη] ημων).

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to him these words and the glory of Simon and all the things that he saw. And the king became very angry. (trans. Zervos, NETS, 500–501, with slight modifications)

6.1 The territorial dispute between the Seleucids and the Hasmoneans, from Judas to Simon This text raises several issues, starting with that of the authenticity of the exchange, a question that is made all the more complex by the processes involved in the transmission of the text – the work’s Greek translator translated a Hebrew text, which was itself based on an exchange in Greek. In other words, we are not privy to the ipsissima verba of Antiochus, except in the case of the letter on which this sections opens, which we may suppose to be authentic. The author (and perhaps also the translator) of 1 Maccabees probably had access to archives, and thus to the original of the first letter sent by Antiochus VII. He may also have had access to a written account of the exchange between Athenobius and Simon. According to Uriel Rappaport, the account of Simon’s answer to Antiochus in the First Book of Maccabees is relatively faithful – in any case, it reflects the perspective of the Hasmonean court.305 Although the Greek text has the hallmarks of a translation from the Hebrew and is clearly influenced by the Septuagint, both the translator and the author of the Hebrew text may have reformulated Antiochus’ message, while nevertheless retaining the gist of his words. We shall see later that the substance of the diplomatic exchange related in 1 Maccabees fits in with the kind of negotiations that took place in territorial disputes in the Hellenistic world, at least in light of what literary sources and Hellenistic documents have to tell about such negotiations. The particulars of the text also raise questions: what territories is Antiochus alluding to when, in vv. 29–31, he mentions the many “places” or “districts” (τόποι) that the Hasmoneans control beyond the frontiers of Judea (ἐκτὸς τῶν ὁρίων τῆς Ιουδαίας)? The previous chapters lead us to understand that, although the Judeans won several victories in the days of Judas, their military successes did not lead to the lasting occupation of the defeated citadels and territories, including in the case of Beth-Zur.306 During the rule of Jonathan, Demetrius I promises the Hasmonean leader to annex three Samaritan districts to Judea (1 Macc 10:26–39).307 However, 305 Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 344; idem, The House of the Hasmoneans, 232, 342. 306 Cf. 1 Macc 4:61 and 6:50. 307 Most manuscripts indicate that these three districts were “ἀπὸ τῆς Σαμαρίτιδος καὶ Γαλιλαίας “ (1 Macc 10:30). However, 1 Macc 11:34 indicates that these three districts were Samaritan territories located in the heart of the satrapy of Samaria-Galilee. Josephus presents us with yet another identification of these three districts: in Ant. 13.50, he speaks of “the inhabitants of Judea and the three toparchies adjoining it, Samaria, Galilee and Peraea.” However, this

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Jonathan declines this offer, choosing to remain faithful to Alexander Balas, who makes him a personal gift of Ekron and its territory, which may be considered to have been located outside of Judea.308 Later, Demetrius II, the son of Demetrius, having made peace with Jonathan, wrote the following to the Judeans, speaking of them in the third person plural: “We have guaranteed for them the boundaries of Judea as well as the three districts of Aphairema and Lydda and Ramathaim; these were added to Judea from Samaritis, with all the areas belonging to them …” (1 Macc 11:34). The annexation of these three districts dates in all likelihood from that period, since there is no mention anywhere of this happening earlier.309 Whatever the case may be, we can see that it was negotiations with the Seleucids, as opposed to conquests, that led to the extension of the Judean territory. Similarly, in 1 Macc 11:57, there is a reference to a fourth district under Judean jurisdiction, with the blessing of the Seleucids. Félix-Marie Abel proposes to identify this district as the toparchy of Acrabattene, on the grounds that it bordered Aphairema and Ramathaim, and would as such have given Judea a certain level of territorial integrity.310 Although we are told that Jonathan set fire to Azotus (1 Macc 10:84), besieged Gaza and ransacked the surrounding area (1 Macc 11:61–62), he neither conquers nor annexes these cities. identification contradicts their description in 1 Maccabees and the account of the wars of later Hasmoneans, related by Josephus himself. In the edition of the Loeb Classical Library, Ralph Marcus notes that “Josephus seems to have interpreted the passage in the light of the divisions of Jewish territory in the 1st century AD” (Josephus. Jewish Antiquities, Books XII–XIV, 251). ­Félix-Marie Abel shares this opinion: “Josèphe fait erreur en nommant comme toparchies ­an­ne­xes de la Judée: Samarie, Galilée et Pérée. Ces régions ne sont point des nomes, elles reproduisent une division de la Palestine contemporaine de l’historien” (Les livres des Maccabées, 187). Later, in Ant. 13.125 – and in connection with 1 Macc 11:28, which speaks of “the three toparchies and Samaritis,” τὰς τρεῖς τοπαρχίας καὶ τὴν Σαμαρῖτιν (a misleading formulation of “the three toparchies of Samaria”) – Josephus associates Judea with “the three toparchies of Samaria and Joppa and Galilee” (τῶν τριῶν τοπαρχιῶν Σαμαρείας καὶ Ἰόππης καὶ Γαλιλαίας), substituting “Joppa” to “Perea.” In Against Apion (2.43), Josephus, who is referring to Pseudo-Hecateus, suggests that it was Alexander the Great who decided to annex Samaria as a whole to Judea. 308 According to Josh 15:45, Ekron and its territory were part of “the inheritance of the tribe of the people of Judah.” In reality, it was one of the five cities of the Philistines (along with Ashdod, Ashkelon, Gaza and Gath) and it was located outside of Judea at the time of the Maccabean revolt. See Abel, Géographie de la Palestine, 2:50 and 319. 309 In 1 Macc 11:28, when Jonathan demands that Judea and the three districts of Samaria be exempted from levies, this is perhaps an indirect attempt to remind Demetrius of his father’s promises on this matter. Abel reaches a similar conclusion: “Non content de calmer Démétrius II, Jonathan fut assez habile pour obtenir de lui la réunion à la Judée de trois cantons de la Samarie et l’immunité fiscale pour l’ensemble des territoires soumis désormais à sa juridiction” (“Topographie des campagnes maccabéennes (5),” RB 35 [1926]: 206–222; the quotation is on p. 210). 310 See Abel, Géographie de la Palestine, 2:135. Similarly, J. A. Goldstein writes that “On the whole, the Akrabattene seems the most likely possibility. Though it was part of the Samaritis, its population, too, may have been heavily Jewish (see M. Ma‘aser sheni 5:2), especially after Judas smashed the Idumaean enclave there (I M 5:3)”.

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In fact, the policy of territorial conquests leading to the expansion of Judea began with Simon. As we have already seen in the previous section, he starts by taking back Beth-Zur (1 Macc 11:66), a major citadel located on the border between Judea and Idumea, which Judas had already conquered before him (1 Macc 4:61) but had since been lost to Antiochus V (1 Macc 6:50).311 After establishing a garrison in Beth-Zur, Simon recaptures Joppa, over which Jonathan had already temporarily gained control before (1 Macc 10:76), when its population had opened the gates of the city to his troops. The author of 1 Maccabees invokes questions of territorial security to justify this operation: “He heard that they wanted to surrender the fortress to those with Demetrius, and he placed a garrison there to guard it” (1 Macc 12:33–34). Later, in the context of the eulogy of Simon in chapter 14, the author of 1 Maccabees alludes to the economic advantages the Judeans have derived from the conquest of Joppa, because it has given them access to the sea (1 Macc 14:5). Immediately after hearing of the conquest of Joppa, we learn that Simon is rebuilding and fortifying Adida, a city located in the Shephelah, five or six kilometres north-east of Lydda (1 Macc 12:38), in a nome recently annexed to Judea.312 Simon also rebuilt the strongholds of Judea, reinforcing their towers and walls, and replenishing their food stores (1 Macc 13:33). Finally, in 141–140 B.C.E., Simon bolstered Judea’s newly regained autonomy with the reconquest in quick succession of Gazara and the Acra (1 Macc 13:43–53). The need to secure the Judean territory is once again the justification put forward for the conquest of Gazara,313 a city of obvious strategic importance for access to the coastal plain: we are told that Gazara was causing damage to Judea and its population (1 Macc 15:35).314

311 On Beth-Zur, see O. R. Sellers, The Citadel of Beth-Zur. A Preliminary Report of the First Excavation Conducted by the Presbyterian Theological Seminary, Chicago, and the American School of Oriental Research, Jerusalem, in 1931 at Khirbat et Tubeiqa (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1933); R. W. Funk, “The 1957 Campaign at Beth-Zur,” BASOR 150 (1958): 8–20; idem, “Beth-Zur,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (ed. E. Stern et al.; Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society, 1993), 1:259–261. 312 See Abel, ibid., 340–341, and “Topographie des campagnes maccabéennes (5),” 218. 313 As Joseph Sievers rightly observes in The Hasmoneans and their Supporters (p. 129), adding that “It is worth noting that territorial claims were not based on biblical precedent, but apparently on recent settlement patterns.” On the Hasmonean occupation of Gazara (Gezer), see J. D. Seger, “The Search for Maccabean Gezer,” Biblical Archaeologist 39/4 (1976): 142–144; R. Reich, “Archaeology Evidence of the Jewish Population of Hasmonean Gezer,” IEJ 31 (1981): 48–52. See also R. A. S. Macalister, The Excavation of Gezer, 1902–1905 and 1907–1909 (London: John Murray, 1912), 1:34, 209–223 and 2:276–277; W. G. Dever, “Gezer,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (ed. E. Stern et al.; Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society, 1993), 2:496–506 (see p. 506). 314 In this perspective, see 1 Macc 9:52, in which Bacchides fortifies Gazara against the Judeans. Abel comments that “Simon trouvait intolérable la présence de ce puissant repaire d’allophyles au milieu d’un cercle dont Emmaüs, Modîn, Lydda, Accaron formaient la circonférence et sur une des routes conduisant de Jérusalem à Joppé” (Les livres des Maccabées, 245).

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When Antiochus VII sent Athenobius to meet Simon, probably in 138 B.C.E, in order to ask him to return Joppa, Gazara, and the Acra, what he was objecting to was Simon’s conquests, which were still very recent.315 It is worth recalling the way in which Simon is praised in chapter 14: He extended the borders for his people (ἐπλάτυνεν τὰ ὅρια τῷ ἔθνει αὐτοῦ) and took possession of the country (καὶ ἐκράτησεν τῆς χώρας). He brought back a great number of captives; he established his rule over Gazara, Beth-Zur and the citadel, he removed the impurities from the latter (the citadel), and no one could withstand him. (14:6–7, my translation)

These lines of praise are obviously hyperbolic. Although Simon did indeed “extend the borders for his people,” notably with the conquest of Joppa, giving Judea access to the sea, as the author of 1 Maccabees reminds us in the previous verse (14:5), he did not in fact “take possession of the country,” unless the possession of this “country” (chōra) refers to Judea and a few places outside Judea. In other words, the “many places” that Antiochus VII reproaches the Judeans for taking still remain to be identified. It is possible that Antiochus is overlooking the treaties passed between the Judeans and Demetrius II, and that he considers Judea’s annexation of the districts of Samaria to be illegitimate. However, since these districts were not taken by force, it would have been easy for Simon to remind Antiochus of these earlier treaties, which he does not do. These territories are thus probably not at stake. It seems equally unlikely that Antiochus is talking about Ekron, a territory which Jonathan received as a personal gift. The only two remaining possibilities are Beth-Zur, on the border between Judea and Idumea, and Adida: as such, it seems likely that the Seleucid king is referring to these two citadels. However, this hardly qualifies as “many places”… Ultimately, this use of the adjective “many,” to describe the places taken by the Judeans, may in fact be a rhetorical effect. Does Simon’s reply to Antiochus VII throw any light on this question? In his counterproposal (in which he offers Antiochus 100 talents for Joppa and Gazara, instead of the 500 demanded for Joppa, Gazara and the Acra), Simon does not say anything about the Acra and omits to mention anything about the second part of the accusations that Antiochus levels at him: he does not suggest any form of compensation for the destruction for which he is allegedly responsible in the towns over which the Judeans have gained control, and the taxes (in compensation for which Antiochus demanded an extra 500 talents). In fact, Simon’s answer establishes a clear distinction between two different types of territorial conquests, which do not really tally with the two types of accusations levelled at him by Antiochus. On the one hand, Simon speaks of the territories which are part of “the inheritance of our fathers,” claiming a historical right over them, and, on the 315 The author of 1 Maccabees enthusiastically summarizes the result of Simon’s policy in 1 Macc 14:33–34, 36–37 (see above, section 5).

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other hand, Joppa and Gazara, whose conquest was justified by the danger they posed to Judea. This distinction is fundamental, and the first conclusion that can be drawn from it is that when Simon mentions “the inheritance of our fathers” in response to Antiochus, this “inheritance” includes neither Joppa nor Gazara. In other words, not only can “the inheritance of our fathers” not be said to describe Eretz Israel (which stretched from the Mediterranean to the Jordan river, at the very least, and would thus have included Joppa and Gazara), but this passage can also not be seen as evidence that Simon wished to reconquer the promised land, as several commentators have argued.316 If Simon does not mention the Acra alongside Joppa and Gazara (as Antiochus does), it is because the Acra is located in Jerusalem, which means that it was part of “the inheritance of our fathers” – unless “the inheritance of our fathers” in fact designates the Acra and the territories associated with it, and Simon’s answer only addresses the accusations explicitly levelled against him by Antiochus VII, when the latter speaks of the Acra, Joppa and Gazara. The question of whether or not the Acra was a Seleucid citadel is irrelevant for Simon, who deliberately uses different criteria than Antiochus in his analysis of the situation. As such, it seems likely that, from Simon’s perspective, Beth-Zur, which was located on the Judean border, was also part of “the inheritance of our fathers.” Finally, it is not excluded that the author of 1 Maccabees – or indeed Simon himself – considered Samaria to be part of Judea, as in the Book of Judith. However, this is difficult to ascertain.317 Whatever the case may be, when Simon speaks of “the inheritance of our fathers,” what he means is a territory over which the Judeans have a right of ownership based on inheritance. This implies that their ancestors were its rightful owners.318 The words that the author of 1 Maccabees attributes to Simon point to a historical right associated with a hereditary mode of transmission, as opposed 316 See the General Introduction to this book. 317 According to Jdt 3:9–10, Holofernes “came toward Esdraelon, near Dothan, facing the great ridge of Judea” and “camped between Geba and Scythopolis.” These lines suggest that, for the author of the Book of Judith, the Valley of Jezreel marked the limit of the Judean territory, which implies that Samaria was part of Judea (see David Goodblatt’s persuasive argument in “‘The Israelites who reside in Judah’ (Judith 4:1),” 80–81). This has in fact led some commentators to date the Book of Judith to the very end of the second century B.C.E., after John Hyrcanus’ conquest of Samaria. 318  In a written exchange, Maurice Sartre told me that, coming from Simon, the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” may have been a way to lay claim to Judea as a Hasmonean (as opposed to Judean) territory, reflecting the perspective of a Hellenistic ruler. Although not untenable in and of itself, such a reading fails to convince me. The use of the first person is indeed ambiguous, and makes it impossible to reach a definitive conclusion (cf. 1 Macc 15:3). How­ever, at no time does the author of 1 Maccabees suggest that the land (the chōra) is the property of the Hasmoneans, which would in any case have been awkward in a book written for a Judean readership.

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to a divine right associated with the election of Israel and its covenant with God. Simon does not make any reference to God’s gift of the land to Abraham or Israel. In the Hellenistic world, one of the justifications for the right of ownership over a territory was to emphasize that it had been received in inheritance, and Simon’s argument should thus be understood in the broader context of the period.319 However, the notion of inheritance or patrimony does not tell us anything about the borders of this ancestral territory: it merely gives us the basis for the Judean right of ownership over this land. The phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” is thus most likely to designate Judea or the kingdom of Judah,320 but 1 Maccabees does not provide us with much information on its ill-defined and fluctuating borders.321 It is interesting to think of this absence of clear boundaries in light of the author’s repeated use throughout the book of the phrases “land of Judah” and “Judea.”322 David Goodblatt rightly 319 Uriel Rappaport rightly emphasizes that Simon does not lay claim to a divine promise, but to a historical right (The First Book of Maccabees, 345). On the different ways to argue for a right of ownership over a territory during the Hellenistic period (inheritance, military conquest, purchase and gift), see section I.6.4 (infra). 320 This is notably the conclusion reached by Félix-Marie Abel, who writes that “Les revendications de Simon sont à mesurer suivant les circonstances présentes: elles visent surtout les territoires que depuis l’Exil avaient envahis des voisins hostiles dans les limites du royaume de Juda. Chacun à son tour de profiter des circonstances.” However, I am not convinced by the statement that follows this passage: “Du principe de recouvrement de l’héritage des pères posé avec modération par Simon, ses successeurs Jean Hyrcan et Alexandre Jannée devaient sous peu, à la faveur de circonstances opportunes, tirer les plus larges conséquences: la reconquête du royaume de Salomon, le retour aux frontières de la Terre Promise d’après les Nombres et Ezéchiel, ou tout au moins de Dan au Torrent d’Egypte” (Les livres des Maccabées, 272). On John Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus, see Part II. 321 As Doron Mendels emphasizes in The Land of Israel, 51. Using the indications provided in 1 Maccabees, Seth Schwartz argues that “at Simon’s death, Jewish Palestine consisted only of the tiny district of Judaea, extending roughly from Beth-Zur, about twenty-five kilometres south-southwest of Jerusalem, to the region of Bethel and Gophna, about twenty kilometres to the city’s north, and about thirty kilometres from the eastern desert to the high plain at the foot of the Judean hills” (“Israel and the Nations Roundabout: 1 Maccabees and the Hasmonean Expansion,” 17). One may add the Samarian districts annexed to Judea, which became ipso facto part of Judea (see also footnote 317 (supra) on the fact that Samaria is considered to be part of Judea in the Book of Judith). According to Strabo and Josephus, both later figures, Judea was landlocked and had no access to the sea (in Geogr. 16.2.2, Strabo locates Phoenicia on the coast, as opposed to Judea which is ἐν τῇ μεσογαίᾳ [see also 16.2.21]; in Against Apion [2.60], Josephus writes that the Judeans do not live in a maritime country, and that the Judean cities are located far from the sea). 322 See section I.2 (supra) on these phrases, and 1 Macc 3:39; 5:45.53.68; 6:5; 7:10.22.50; 9:1.57.72; 10:30.37; 12:4; 13:1.12; 14:4… It is also interesting to note that in chapter 2, when Mattathias expresses his outrage at “the blasphemies that were committed in Judah and in Jerusalem” (v. 6), he seems to draw a distinction between the city and the territory – indeed, the former is not a metonymy for the latter in 1 Maccabees. Mattathias’ complaints are especially focused on the city: “What nation did not inherit its kingdom (ποῖον ἔθνος οὐκ ἐκληρονόμησεν βασίλεια …

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observes that “Whatever the reason, the Hasmoneans did not restore the state called ‘Israel’. Instead they created a ‘Greater Judah’.”323 The following comments on the Book of Zechariah by Robert Wilken will help us to understand this focus on Judea by setting it in the context of the wider evolution that was taking place in the Persian and Hellenistic eras: Like Ezekiel, Zechariah uses the traditional formulas associated with the promise of the land, but he has centered them solely on Jerusalem and Judah, the new political entity that had come into being after the exile, rather than on the land as a whole. The land that earlier tradition had envisioned and that Ezekiel had reaffirmed is now a thing of the past.324

It seems to me that we observe a similar phenomenon in 1 Maccabees, where “the inheritance of our fathers” only refers to Judea, the ancestral territory of the Judeans. Unlike in the Book of Zechariah, however, there is no single mention of God’s promise of the land in 1 Maccabees. Does Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities throw any additional light on 1 Macc 15:28– 36? A priori, this chapter seems absent from Antiquities.325 Although Josephus does mention that there was a change in the attitude of Antiochus VII towards Simon, all he says is that the Seleucid king was ungrateful towards Simon because of his “covetousness” (πλεονεξία) and “dishonesty” (φαυλότης), and that he dispatched Cendebeus to Judea in order to plunder it and seize Simon (Ant. 13.225). This tallies with 1 Macc 15:38–41, the passage which follows the account of Athenobius’ embassy. Although it is not explicitly referred to by Josephus, the exchange between Simon and the representative of Antiochus VII nevertheless implicitly provides the background for what Josephus writes in § 236, when he explains that Antiochus invaded Judea in the days of John Hyrcanus, because he had still not gotten over the setback he had suffered at the hands of Simon (χαλεπῶς ἔχων ἐφ᾿ οἷς ὑπὸ Σίμωνος ἔπαθεν). Since Josephus does not mention at any point before this

αὐτῆς) nor seize its spoils?” (2:10, my translation). If there is a parallel between Simon’s reply to Antiochus and Mattathias’ earlier cry of outrage, it suggests that the inheritance that must be restored is intimately associated with the glory of Jerusalem and the kingdom of Judah. 323 Goodblatt, “‘The Israelites who reside in Judah’ (Judith 4:1),” 84. Strabo also suggests that the terrritory called “Judea” increased in size (Geogr. 16.2.21). 324 The Land Called Holy, 18. 325 As Étienne Nodet has shown, Josephus used several sources even when he drew his inspiration from 1 Maccabees, and in fact ceased almost entirely to use the latter from 1 Macc 13:42 onwards. See É. Nodet, La crise maccabéenne. Historiographie juive et traditions bibliques, 407–431. However, the fact that Josephus ignores these chapters has led some scholars to argue that the section of 1 Maccabees stretching from 14:16 to 16:24 was a later addition, introduced when the book was re-worked circa 100 B.C.E. See especially D. S. Williams, The Structure of 1 Maccabees, 108–122; idem, “Recent Research in 1 Maccabees,” 172–174. On Josephus’ use of 1 Maccabees in general, see the bibliography provided in footnote 48.

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passage in Antiquities that Simon did anything to aggrieve Antiochus, this episode does not make much sense, unless we read it in light of 1 Macc 15. Curiously, Josephus’ account of the siege of Jerusalem by Antiochus VII in 134–133 B.C.E. includes a portrait of the Seleucid ruler as a pious man who shows respect for the temple, and is in every way at odds with his ancestor Antiochus IV Epiphanes (§§ 242–243). Indeed, Antiochus VII shows such moderation and religious zeal that John Hyrcanus asks him to let the Jews be allowed once again to live according to the politeia of their fathers (§ 245). Rejecting the accusations of amixia directed against the Jews by his entourage, Antiochus agrees on the condition that the besieged population hand over their arms and pay tribute for Joppa “and the other cities bordering (or, according to some manuscripts: outside) Judea” (καὶ τῶν ἄλλων πόλεων περίξ [or: πάρεξ] τῆς Ἰουδαίας) and accept the presence of a Seleucid garrison in their midst (i. e. in Jerusalem) (§ 246). The Judeans accept all these terms, except the garrison, offering him hostages and 500 talents of silver in exchange.326 Although this passage makes no reference to “Joppa and Gazara and the Acra,” the territorial conflict in question is clearly more or less identical with the one described in 1 Macc 15. For Flavius Josephus, who disagrees on this point with 1 Maccabees, Simon had in fact razed the Acra, which could as a result not be at stake in the conflict between Antiochus VII and John Hyrcanus. The absence of any reference to the Acra in the rest of the text shows that Josephus has at least the merit of coherence on this issue. There is also one last piece of information to take into account as we examine the territorial conflict surrounding Joppa and Gazara. According to Josephus (Ant. 13.260–263), John Hyrcanus and the Judeans later sent a Judean embassy to Rome in order to lay claim to Joppa and Gazara, which Antiochus had taken back from them. I shall return to this passage in more detail in the section of Part II which focuses on John Hyrcanus. Although Josephus does not throw any direct light on the diplomatic exchange that took place between Antiochus VII and Simon, he nevertheless alludes to the aftermath of this conflict, and draws a distinction between the territories that were part of Judea and those that lay beyond its borders – also a key distinction in the exchange attributed to Antiochus VII and Simon in 1 Maccabees. 326 It seems likely that the reason behind the contradictory portrait that Josephus paints of Antiochus VII in Antiquities is that one of his sources was favourable to the Seleucid king, giving him an opportunity to emphasize the respect that ruler showed for the temple of Jerusalem. On the many versions (beyond Josephus’) of the history of the siege of Jerusalem, see Diodorus, 34–35.1.1–5; and Plutarch, Sayings of Kings and Commanders, 184 e–f). See also T. Rajak, “Roman Intervention in a Seleucid Siege of Jerusalem?” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 22/1 (1981): 65–81; B. Bar-Kochva, “Antiochus the Pious and Hyrcanus the Tyrant: A Chapter in the Historio­ graphy of the Hasmonean State,” Zion 61/1 (1996): 7–44 (Heb.); idem, The Image of the Jews in Greek Literature: The Hellenistic Period (Hellenistic Culture and Society 51; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010), 399–439; K. Berthelot, Philanthrôpia judaica. Le débat autour de la ‘misanthropie’ des lois juives dans l’Antiquité (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 123–141. See also Part II, § 2.1.

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6.2 The biblical background of the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” As we have seen, then, Simon distinguishes in 1 Macc 15 between “the inheritance of our fathers,” a phrase which apparently refers to Judea, and the places that he has conquered beyond its borders. How do the historians who interpret these verses as the expression of a plan to reconquer the promised land understand the distinction that Simon draws between “the inheritance of our fathers,” on the one hand, and “Joppa and Gazara,” on the other? Insofar as they consider Joppa and Gazara to be part of the promised land, they have to interpret this distinction as a tactical and diplomatic concession to the Seleucids. Simon, they argue, was well aware that he could not mention divine rights in a negotiation with a Seleucid king. Thus, if Jonathan Goldstein speaks of “the Jews’ claims based on divine promises to their ancestors and on previous conquest,” he nevertheless adds that: As a good diplomat, Simon does not attempt to argue that Joppa and Gazara lay within the confines of the promised land or once belonged to Solomon (II Chron 2:15; Josh 21:21; I Kings 9:15–17). The Seleucid authorities might not have conceded the validity of the evidence. Simon claims the cities by right of conquest in just wars of retribution, a principle recognized in Greek international law. (Goldstein, I Maccabees, 516)327

This analysis tries to brush over the fact that Simon acknowledges that Joppa and Gazara are not in the same category as “the inheritance of our fathers,” and justifies their conquest by invoking the security of Judea, and offers to pay 100 talents for these citadels. Even more importantly, it fails to ask what “the inheritance of our fathers” refers to. Instead, it considers the meaning of this phrase to be self-­ evident, without paying attention to its context. Let us examine the argument that in his reply, Simon makes tactical and diplomatic concessions to the logic of the Seleucids. As we shall see in more detail later, Simon’s argument is indeed modelled on the discourse of the Seleucids, both as it is represented within 1 Maccabees and as external sources allow us to reconstruct it. However, it is also worth bearing in mind that 1 Maccabees was originally written in Hebrew for Judean readers. The book’s imitations of the style of the Books of Deuteronomy, Kings, etc. – which are still perceptible in the Greek translation – as well as its allusions to this or that biblical motif, could only be grasped by readers familiar with biblical traditions. Considering the “internal” dimension of the narrative presented in 1 Maccabees, its author might easily have attributed to Simon 327 See also Dommershausen, 1 Makkabäer–2 Makkabäer, 104: “Simeon weiss sehr wohl, dass auch Jafo und Geser einst zum salomonischen Reich gehörten (2 Chr 2:15; 1 Kön 9:15–17), erachtet es aber im Augenblick für diplomatischer, auf den historischen Beweis zu verzichten und die Geldsumme anzubieten. ”

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words explicitly reflecting the putative point of view of the Judeans, including God’s promise of the land to their ancestors, etc. However, he did not. This could be explained by the use of a source by the author of 1 Maccabees, if there existed a written trace of the diplomatic exchange between Antiochus’ emissary and Simon either in the archives or the annals, and if the author had access to this source. In this case, 1 Macc 15 might be said to exhibit the Hasmonean mastery of the language and arguments used to resolve territorial conflicts in the Hellenistic world. We shall return to these arguments later. This first possible explanation – the adoption of a Seleucid or Hellenistic mode of argumentation – does not exclude the possibility that Simon’s reply genuinely reflected the point of view of the Judeans. In other words, Simon may have resorted to the notion of “the inheritance of our fathers,” distinguishing between the ancestral territory of the Judeans and their conquered territories not simply because it was relevant to distinguish between these two categories in the context of a territorial conflict in the Hellenistic world, but also (and perhaps more importantly) because they genuinely reflected the perception the Judeans had of their relationship to the land. Indeed, if “the inheritance of our fathers” alludes to Judea, as opposed to some dream vision of the Davidic or Solomonic kingdom, it would be natural for Simon to distinguish between “the inheritance of our fathers” and the territories located outside of Judea. This would of course not have stopped the Hasmonean leader from seizing the opportunities he had to increase the size of the Judean territory and strengthen his hold on power in the region. As I have already mentioned, 1 Maccabees is a book that was originally written in Hebrew for a Judean readership, and it contains a large number of biblical allusions. Whatever the sources available to the author may have been, it is possible to say that, from a literary point of view, he composed and wrote his text with care – his use of the expression “the inheritance of our fathers” cannot have been accidental.328 In other words, we have to look closely at this passage in order to discover its possible biblical background, and in particular what lies behind the phrase ἡ κληρονομία τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν (“the inheritance of our fathers”). Does this phrase imply a reference to the land promised by God to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob? In the biblical tradition, the notion of nah ․alah (usually translated into Greek as klēros or klēronomia) is primarily invoked in the context of the covenant between God and his people. In particular, the terms nah ․alah/klēros or klēronomia can designate the land that God gave to his people in inheritance.329 However, the word klēronomia usually refers to the land that 328 See in particular J. R. Bartlett, 1 Maccabees (Guides to the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha 5; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 21–35; Williams, The Structure of 1 Maccabees, 72–95, 108–127. 329 See for example, Num 34:2; Deut 12:8–10; 19:10 (with klēros); 21:23 (with klēros); 25:19 (with klēros); 1 Kgs 8:36; Jer 3:19; etc. The people of Israel themselves are often referred to as the nah.alah/klēronomia of God; see for example, Deut 4:20 (in the MT; in the LXX, this is

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was apportioned to the different tribes or families of Israel.330 The occurrences of the work klēronomia in connection with the “fathers” or ancestors are rarer, and they always designate the land owned by a tribe, family or individual, as opposed to the land of Israel as a whole.331 Thus, Num 33:54 recalls the land apportioned in inheritance to each tribe, and concludes with the following assertion: “The inheritance shall belong to the person on whom the lot falls; according to the tribes of your fathers (or: ancestors) you shall inherit” (‫למטות אבתיכם תתנחלו‬, κατὰ φυλὰς πατριῶν ὑμῶν κληρονομήσετε). Num 36:7–9 raises the question of the inheritance of daughters and the need to avoid the risk of transferring any land from one tribe to another: “All Israelites shall retain the inheritance of the tribes of their fathers” (v. 7) (‫ ;כי איש בנחלת מטה אבתיו ידבקו בני ישראל‬ὅτι ἕκαστος ἐν τῇ κληρονομίᾳ τῆς φυλῆς τῆς πατριᾶς αὐτοῦ προσκολληθήσονται οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ). As such, daughters who receive land in inheritance have to marry inside the tribe of their father, “so that all Israelites may continue to possess the inheritance of the tribes of their fathers” (v. 8) (‫;למען יירשו בני ישראל איש נחלת אבתיו‬ ἵνα ἀγχιστεύσωσιν οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ ἕκαστος τὴν κληρονομίαν τὴν πατρικὴν αὐτοῦ). Deut 19:10 forcefully recalls the obligation to respect the boundaries of the land that were originally defined when the sons of Israel received their allocated plots in inheritance (in the LXX: οὐ μετακινήσεις ὅρια τοῦ πλησίον σου ἃ ἔστησαν οἱ πατέρες σου [MT: ‫ ]ראשנים‬ἐν τῇ κληρονομίᾳ σου ᾗ κατεκληρονομήθης ἐν τῇ γῇ ᾗ κύριος ὁ θεός σου δίδωσίν σοι ἐν κλήρῳ). Within 1 Maccabees itself, there are two other occurrences of klēronomia, both of which refer to land that is the property of individuals or families: the first occurs in the context of the territory located in Canaan that Caleb received in recompense for his loyalty (1 Macc 2:56, in reference to Num 13–14 and Josh 15:13–14) and the second in the context of the impious Jews’ complaint that Judas and his supporters had seized their inheritance (1 Macc 6:24). This tends to corroborate the notion that the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” in 1 Macc 15:33–35 is a juridical category, which probably refers to the territory of the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, stricto sensu the ancestors of the Judeans, or the kingdom of Judah.332 By using the term nah ․alah/klēronomia, the author of 1 Maccabees (and his Greek translated as εἶναι αὐτῷ λαὸν ἔγκληρον); 1 Kgs 8:51.53; Isa 19:25; 47:6; Jer 12:7–9; Jol 4:2; etc. Conversely, however, in Num 18:20 and Ezek 44:28, God is the klēronomia of the priests. 330 See for example Num 35:8; Deut 19:14; Josh 15:20 (LXX 14:20: αὕτη ἡ κληρονομία φυλῆς υἱῶν Ιουδα) and almost all the occurrences of this word in Joshua; Judg 2:6; 21:24; etc. In Ezek 47:14, the term klēronomia is used in connection with the distribution of land between the tribes (and the gerim; see Ezek 47:22–23). 331 The only possible exception is found in Isa 58:14, where the phrase “the inheritance of your father Jacob” (τὴν κληρονομίαν Ιακωβ τοῦ πατρός σου) seems to refer to the land as a whole. But in this case the word “father” is in the singular. 332 The borders of the territory allocated to Judah are described in Josh 15; those of Benjamin’s land, which was located next to Judah’s and included Jerusalem and Jericho, are described in Josh 18:11–28. See also Abel, Géographie de la Palestine, 2:46–50 and 53–56.

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translator after him, if we suppose that his rendition of the Hebrew original is faithful) resorted to a word associated with the allocation of a territory or patrimony to the sons of Israel, which, as readers familiar with biblical traditions would have known, strongly emphasized the inalienable character of the rights of the Judeans over their ancestral land. The text can thus be read on the levels of both Hellenistic diplomacy and biblical intertextuality, without any contradiction arising between these two levels of interpretation. Finally, the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” could conceivably be an allusion to a specific biblical episode, the story of Naboth’s vineyard in 1 Kgs 21 (LXX: 3 Kgdms 20), in which king Ahab wishes to take over the vineyard of a private individual, Naboth, in order to make his garden bigger. However, Naboth, refusing to let the king have his land in exchange for either money or another parcel of land, tells the king that “The Lord forbid that I should give you the inheritance of my fathers” (‫נחלת אבתי‬, κληρονομίαν πατέρων μου) (1 Kgs 21:3). Together with Num 36:8 (in the MT, rather than the Septuagint, which uses the adjective patrikos), the wording of this passage from the First Book of Kings is the closest, on a formal level, to Simon’s reply in 1 Macc 15. Naboth’s story is yet another illustration of the fact that, when it is used in association with the term “fathers,” the word klēronomia refers to the patrimony of a tribe, a family or an individual. Indeed, Simon may have been alluding to Naboth’s dispute with Ahab when he spoke of “the inheritance of our fathers,” implicitly comparing the Seleucid king, who ruled over a vast empire, to the impious Ahab, and the people of Judea to Naboth, who merely wished to keep the patrimony of his fathers and did not covet his neighbour’s land. Although this interpretation is merely a possibility, this proposition is nevertheless plausible. If this interpretation were correct, it would contradict the notion that Simon’s answer contained the seeds of a programme for the reconquest of the promised land as a whole, since it would imply that the Judeans were content with the territory of Judea. Whatever the case, a survey of the biblical texts which echo the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” tends to corroborate the view that in 1 Macc 15:33–35, this expression refers to Judea, the ancestral territory of the Judeans, and shows just how much Jonathan Goldstein and other commentators have tended to overinterpret this text.

6.3 The parallels between the discourses of the Seleucids and Simon in 1 Maccabees 1 Macc 15 invites a reading not only in light of its possible biblical background, but also of the echoes and cross-references we find within the book itself – i. e. its literary and rhetorical construction. The author of 1 Maccabees reproduces Seleucid discourses on several occasions. In particular, he deliberately introduces a certain number of echoes between Simon’s reply and the words of Antiochus VII in

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chapter 15, or the spoken or written words (in documents, decrees and letters) of other Seleucid rulers in other parts of the book.333 The wording of the message from Antiochus that Athenobius relays to Simon in vv. 28–31 of chapter 15 itself echoes Antiochus’ letter at the start of chapter 15 (vv. 2–9). The similarities between the wording of the two passages help to emphasize the king’s change of heart towards Simon and his duplicity. In other words, chapter 15 weaves a web of echoes between the king’s initial letter, the message that Athenobius transmits to Simon and Simon’s reply: in v. 3, the king complains that corrupt men “have gained control of the kingdom of our fathers” (κατεκράτησαν τῆς βασιλείας τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν). We then find other forms of κατακρατέω in v.28 (κατακρατεῖτε) and in v.33, in Simon’s reply (κεκρατήκαμεν; τῆς κληρονομίας τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν ὑπὸ δὲ ἐχθρῶν ἡμῶν … κατεκρατήθη). Similarly, when, in vv. 3–5, Antiochus declares that he wishes to “go after those who have corrupted our country and those who have devastated many cities in my kingdom” (τοὺς ἠρημωκότας πόλεις πολλὰς ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ μου), we then find echoes of his words in v. 28 (πόλεις τῆς βασιλείας μου) and 29 (τὰ ὅρια αὐτῶν ἠρημώσατε … καὶ ἐκυριεύσατε τόπων πολλῶν ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ μου).334 The accusations that Antiochus levels at the Judeans are the same as those he directed in his letter against “certain corrupt men.” Considering these many parallels, it seems likely that the phrase “the inheritance of our fathers” (ἡ κληρονομία τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν), which does not appear as such in the various parts of 1 Maccabees reproducing Seleucid discourse, in fact echoes the phrase “the kingdom of our fathers” (ἡ βασιλεία τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν) in Antiochus’ letter to Simon, which is reprinted at the beginning of chapter 15 (v. 3). This interpretation seems all the more plausible that there is epigraphic evidence (including in the inscription on the Heliodoros stele) that the word basileia (kingdom) could have territorial connotations in the Seleucid empire.335 In other words, the 333 See Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 272–273. 334 And indeed in v. 35, if we follow the correction suggested by Abel, who proposes to replace καὶ τὴν χώραν ἡμῶν – i. e. the wording of the Codex Sinaiticus – with τὴν χώραν ἠρήμων (arguing that ἠρήμων is a mistake and should read ἠρήμουν). 335 Cotton and Wörrle, “Seleukos IV to Heliodoros. A New Dossier of Royal Correspondence from Israel” (see line 17 of this inscription). See L. Capdetrey, “Espace, territoires et souveraineté dans le monde hellénistique: l’exemple du royaume séleucide,” in Des rois au prince: pratiques du pouvoir monarchique dans l’Orient hellénistique et romain (IVe siècle avant J.-C.–IIe siècle après J.-C.) (I. Savalli-Lestrade and I. Cogitore, ed.; Grenoble: ELLUG, 2010), 17–36. This is an attested meaning of the word, especially from the reign of Antiochus III, which coincided with “une territorialisation accrue du pouvoir séleucide, territorialisation qui a pu trouver un reflet lexical dans l’affirmation de la notion de basileia-territoire” (Capdetrey, ibid., 21). He then adds that “La notion de basileia-royaume faisait en effet du territoire l’indispensable extension corporelle du principe de la royauté” (p. 22) and that “Il semble que l’on ne puisse plus considérer le pouvoir séleucide comme un pouvoir incapable d’établir avec son territoire un rapport de consubstantialité” (p. 23). On the Seleucids’ notion and management of territory, see also Paul J. Kosmin, The Land of the Elephant Kings: Space, Territory, and Ideology in the Seleucid Empire (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014).

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author of 1 Maccabees establishes the right of the Judeans to the territory of their fathers, in the face of the claims that Antiochus VII lay to the royal territory of his own ancestors. This analysis is also corroborated by the fact that in 1 Maccabees, only the Seleucids use the words “the territory of our/my/his fathers,” “the kingdom of my/ our fathers,” or “the throne of my fathers.”336 As such, the reference to “the inheritance of our fathers” in 15:33–34 should not only be read in light of the biblical tradition, but also of the author’s construction and dramatization of the discourse of the Seleucids. To my knowledge, the echoes between vv. 3–4 and 33–35 of chapter 15 have only been noted by one commentator, Robert Doran, who writes that “Antiochus VII had claimed that he was acting to regain control of the kingdom of his ancestors (15:3–4), and likewise now Simon reacts to Antiochus by claiming that he also only took back control of the inheritance of his ancestors (v. 33).”337 Although they are striking, the parallels between Simon’s words and those of the Seleucid king nevertheless seem to have escaped the attention of the majority of commentators. It is also worth noting that in the letter that the Romans sent to king Ptolemy in response to the Judean embassy (v. 21), the foes of the Hasmonean dynasty who might seek refuge in Egypt are designated by the phrase “certain pestilent (people)” (τινες λοιμοὶ), like the opponents of Antiochus VII in the latter’s letter to Simon (1 Macc 15:3: τινες λοιμοὶ).338 The fact that the same words are used to describe the enemies of both the Seleucid king and Simon further reinforces the parallels between them. Similarly, the use of the verb κατακρατέω (to seize, gain control over) in vv. 3, 28 and 33 also helps to create a parallel between the enemies of Antiochus and those of the Judeans. If these echoes and parallels have an ironic dimension (the stance that Antiochus adopts towards the Judeans is precisely the behaviour that he condemned in his letter at the start of the chapter), they also send a powerful political message, by asserting a form of reciprocity in the exchanges between the Seleucids and the Judeans and putting the two parties on an equal footing. Let us not forget that, as John Ma writes, “power and empire are about language as much as about physical

336 See 1 Macc 7:2 (οἶκον βασιλείας πατέρων αὐτοῦ); 10:52 (ἀνέστρεψα εἰς τὴν βασιλείαν μου καὶ ἐνεκάθισα ἐπὶ θρόνου πατέρων μου); 10:55 (ἐπέστρεψας εἰς γῆν πατέρων σου καὶ ἐκάθισας ἐπὶ θρόνου βασιλείας αὐτῶν); 10:67 (εἰς τὴν γῆν τῶν πατέρων αὐτοῦ); 11:9 (τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ πατρός σου); 15:3 (τῆς βασιλείας τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν); 15:10 (εἰς τὴν γῆν τῶν πατέρων αὐτοῦ). 337 The First Book of Maccabees: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 172. 338  Indeed, the LXX also uses the words υἱοὶ λοιμοὶ to translate the phrase “sons of Belial,” which refers to those who contested the legitimacy of Saul’s claim to the throne in 1 Sam 10:27. This biblical reminiscence may have influenced the decision of the translator of 1 Maccabees to use the phrase τινες λοιμοὶ in reference to those who opposed the Hasmoneans.

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constraint.”339 In other words, the author of 1 Maccabees describes Simon laying claim to a level of reciprocity in his relationship with Antiochus. We have to keep in mind that under the rule of Simon, Judea had become relatively independent from Seleucid rule. In any case, the independence of the Hasmoneans from the Seleucids was largely established by the time John Hyrcanus was in power, which is when the author of 1 Maccabees wrote his text.

6.4 Understanding Simon’s reply in the context of the territorial conflicts of the Hellenistic era The author of 1 Maccabees was clearly familiar with the ways of the Seleucid court and their complex diplomatic manoeuvres. Thus, Tessa Rajak writes: Our ability to reconstruct at least a part of this story is due in the first instance to the interest in diplomatic dealings and their outcome of the author of 1 Maccabees: not only does he detail titles and honours, but he even notices accoutrements, such as Antiochus VI’s gift of gold plate and his permission to Jonathan to drink from a gold cup and to wear purple with a gold clasp (11:58). This anonymous author supplies us, in fact, with some of the best information we have anywhere on Seleucid court titulature … (“Hasmonean Kingship,” 46)340

Chapter 15 of 1 Maccabees exhibits the Hasmoneans’ mastery of the arguments developed by Hellenistic diplomats in cases of territorial conflict (that is, if this chapter does indeed reflect the spirit of the exchange between Antiochus VII and Simon), or at the very least the familiarity of the author of the book with the arguments deployed in this type of dispute. In his commentary of 1 Macc 15:33–34, Jonathan A. Goldstein notes that “Seleucid kings had insisted on that principle [the right to claim one’s ancestral inheritance] as well as on the right of possession by conquest …. The Jews’ claims based on divine promises to their ancestors and on previous conquest should have had at least equal validity.”341 In reality, however, there is no mention in 1 Maccabees of either divine promises or the conquest of the land under Joshua. What the author of 1 Macccabees does refer to, however, is the right of the Judeans to assert their hereditary ownership of a territory that has been wrongfully conquered by others.

339 Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 104. 340 She refers the reader to the analyses of Elias Bickerman in Institutions des Séleucides, 32–44. 341 I Maccabees, 516.

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As Jean-Marie Bertrand, Angelos Chaniotis and other historians of the Hellenistic and Roman world have shown, in the wake of Elias Bickerman’s pioneering research, there were four different ways to establish a legitimate right of ownership over a territory in the Hellenistic world: through patrimonial transmission, a purchase, a gift, and conquest. However, a conquest had to have taken place according to certain rules in order to be considered legitimate: it had to be the outcome of a just war against the legitimate owners of the conquered territory, for example a defensive war conducted in the wake of an attack. Thus, in On The Crown 181, Demosthenes condemns Philip for taking cities belonging to the Athenians, who had done nothing to slight him.342 Although it would be misguided, and of course anachronistic, to imagine that there existed anything like an “international code of law” at the time, these different forms of ownership are sufficiently well attested in the sources to allow us to consider that they constituted widely accepted norms (although it is important to distinguish between their strictly juridical dimension and their political and rhetorical instrumentalization, as John Ma reminds us).343 Thus, we find the following assertion on lines 133–134 of inscription IC (Inscriptiones Creticae) III iv 9, regarding the arbitration, by the city of Magnesia on the Maeander, of a conflict between the Cretan cities of Hierapytna and Itanos in 112–111 B.C.E.: [… M]en have proprietary rights (lit. sovereignties) over territories (lit. places) either because they have r[eceived] (the territories) themselves from their ancestors, [or because they have] bought (them) [for] money, or because they have won it by the

342 The right of ownership that was based on conquest was in many ways problematic. See E. Bickermann and J. Sykutris, “Speusipps Brief an König Philipp. Text, Übersetzung, Untersuchungen,” in Berichte über die Verhandlungen der Sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Leipzig: philologisch-historische Klasse LXXX, Heft 3 (1928): 7–86 (see esp. 27–29, 40); E. Bickerman, “Bellum Antiochicum,” Hermes 67/1 (1932): 47–76; idem, “Remarques sur le droit des gens dans la Grèce classique,” RIDA (Revue Internationale des Droits de l’Antiquité, Mélanges Fernand de Visscher III) 4 (1950): 99–127 (see esp. 123–124); A. Mehl, “ΔΟΡΙΚΤΗΤΟΣ ΧΩΡΑ. Kritische Bemerkungen zum Speererwerb in Politik und Völkerrecht der hellenistischen Epoche,” Ancient Society 11–12 (1980–1981): 173–212; J.-M. Bertrand, “Territoire donné, territoire attribué: note sur la pratique de l’attribution dans le monde impérial de Rome,” Cahiers du Centre Gustave-Glotz 2 (1991): 125–164; A. Chaniotis, “Justifying Territorial Claims in Classical and Hellenistic Greece,” in The Law and the Courts in Ancient Greece (E. M. Harris and L. Rubenstein, ed.; Londons: Duckworth, 2004), 185–213; idem, “Victory’s Verdict: The Violent Occupation of Territory in Hellenistic Interstate Relations,” in La violence dans les mondes grec et romain (ed. J.-M. Bertrand; Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2005), 455–464. Angelos Chaniotis observes that these forms of legitimation were often invoked in combination (“Justifying Territorial Claims,” 191). He refers the reader to Aristotle, Pol. 1256b, for the first text supporting the notion that the right of ownership can be based on conquest. 343 Ma, Antiochos III, 32–33.

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spear, or because [they have received it] from someone of the mightie[r] … (my translation)344

In 1 Maccabees, the Seleucids also speak of “sovereignties” (κυριείαι) – that is, property rights – and “places” (τόποι), for example in the hostile message that Simon receives from Antiochus (1 Macc 15:29–30).345 However, the book’s translator uses the word πατέρες (“fathers”) in Simon’s reply, instead of προγόνοι (“ancestors”), which is the term one usually finds in Hellenistic documents emphasizing a patrimonial right of ownership. This difference is explained by the fact that the translator worked from the Hebrew and was familiar with the Septuagint. The inscription IC III iv 9 as a whole exhibits the special importance in juridical debates on land property rights of arguments based on patrimonial transmission. The citizens of Itanos essentially based their claim to the territory under dispute on the grounds that it constituted their ancestral patrimony (παρὰ προγόνων). In the end, the judges decided that the argument presented by the city of Itanos was the most legitimate and convincing.346 The judges of Magnesia on the Maeander took great care to discover how far back in time the rights of ownership claimed by the two cities dated from, in response to a request from the Romans, who had asked them to arbitrate this dispute, by determining who was the rightful owner of the territory in question before the war that Servius Sulpicius347 had brought to an end in 141 B.C.E. (A previous conflict had already pitted the two cities against each other between 145 and 140 B.C.E., and been resolved in favour of Itanos, following the intervention of a first Magnesian tribunal, at the behest of Rome). As a rule, the resolution of a conflict depended above all on determining a terminus a quo, i. e. the point of time in the past beyond which arguments would not be examined.348 For practical reasons, the Romans tended to set this terminus a quo to the beginning of their political or military involvement with the place in question, which usually coincided with the date of a treaty of alliance passed

344 Greek text: 133 [… ἄν]θρωποι τὰς κατὰ τῶν τόπων ἔχουσι κυριείας ἢ παρὰ προγόνων π[αραλαβόν]τες αὐτοὶ [ἢ πριάμενοι] 134 [κατ’] ἀργυρίου δόσιν ἢ δόρατι κρατήσαντες ἢ παρά τινος τῶν κρεισσόν[ων σχόντες· ὧν] οὐθὲν [φανερόν]. See S. L. Ager, Interstate Arbitrations in the Greek World, 337–90 BC (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996), 442 (No 158 II); F. Guizzi, “Conquista, occupazione del suolo e titoli che danno diritto alla proprietà: l’esempio di uno controversia interstatale cretese,” Athenaeum 85 (1997): 35–52. I indicate the reconstructed parts in square brackets for the sake of precision. 345 On these two words, see Guizzi, “Conquista,” 41–42. In 1 Macc 15:29–30 one finds the verbs κυριεύω and κατακυριεύω rather than the word κυριείαι. 346 On the history of Itanos, see Stylianos Spyridakis, Ptolemaic Itanos and Hellenistic Crete (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1970). 347 Probably Sulpicius Galba, who was named consul in 144. See Ager, Interstate Arbitrations, 443. 348 See Chaniotis, “Victory’s Verdict,” 458–459.

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with one of the two parties:349 as a result, the task was to determine who had been the legitimate owner of the territory under dispute at the date set by the Romans as the terminus a quo. In the case of Hierapytna and Itanos, this date was set to 140 B.C.E., which coincided with the first intervention of Roman emissaries in the affairs of these two cities. Considering the role that Rome played in the territorial conflicts of the second century B.C.E., there can be no doubt about the meaning of the reference to the Romans’ reply to Simon’s embassy in 1 Macc 15:15–24, a passage located half-way between the transcription of the first letter of Antiochus VII and the account of the embassy of Athenobius in Jerusalem. It is no coincidence if the author of 1 Maccabees chose to make a reference to the alliance between the Judeans and Rome just before describing the territorial conflict pitting the Judeans against the Seleucid king. Indeed, this reference to Rome also exhibits the familiarity of the author of 1 Maccabees with the diplomatic practices of the Hellenistic world. Later, according to Josephus, Hyrcanus called on the Senate to settle this argument, which was still not resolved.350 The Hasmoneans clearly understood how important it was to benefit from Roman arbitration and protection. This is probably one of the reasons why the author of 1 Maccabees repeatedly refers to the treaties that Judas, Jonathan, and Simon concluded with Rome – moreover, these alliances also help to link the three brothers together throughout the book. Let us briefly return once more to the conflict between Hierapytna and Itanos. The arguments put forward by each city – according to the inscription, at least – did not only go back in time some thirty years, in accordance with the terminus a quo, set to 140 B.C.E. In fact, they went much further back in time, and the different parties resorted to accounts by historians and even poets, because it was possible to invoke the mythical past as an argument in cases of territorial disputes, just as when kinship ties (syngeneia) had to be established between different peoples.351 When there were no documents such as official decrees and royal letters available, the judges who were responsible for the arbitration of territorial disputes between different cities or kingdoms, could consult the works of ancient – espe349 In the conflit betwen Magnesia and Priene, between 175 and 160 B.C.E., the terminus a quo was set to the time when Magnesia and Priene became allied with the Romans; see Ager, Interstate Arbitrations, 324 (No 120 II, lines 20–22). 350 See Part II. 351 On the legitimating purpose, in cases of territorial disputes, of making references to the past and invoking the writings of historians and poets, see M. Holleaux, “Notes sur la ‘Chronique de Lindos,’” in Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques (Paris: De Boccard, 1938), 1:401–407, esp. 404, n. 3; O. Curty, “L’historiographie hellénistique et l’inscription ‘Inschriften von Priene’ no. 37,” in Historia testis. Mélanges d’épigraphie, d’histoire ancienne et de philologie offerts à Tadeusz Zawadzki (M. Piérart and O. Curty, ed.; Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires, 1989), 21–35; J. Ma, Antiochos III, 31–32. On the major role that the local historiography played in establishing how ancient a community was, as well as its right over a territory, see M.-F. Baslez, “Histoire locale et construction identitaire,” in La Bible. Le Livre et l’Histoire (ed. J.-M. Poffet; Paris: Gabalda, 2006), 83–106.

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cially local – historians and poets, in order to establish the truth of the claims laid by both parties to their original right of ownership over the territory in question.352 It is important to emphasize, after Elias Bickerman, that the Hellenistic world distinguished between the right of ownership and possession, and did not consider that the continuous occupation (i. e. possession) of a territory conferred a right of ownership on the occupiers. Conversely, in the Roman world, the continuous occupation and exploitation of the soil did confer a right of ownership.353 In the case of Hierapytna and Itanos, there is one last point worth bearing in mind: the disputed territory was located in the vicinity of a sanctuary dedicated 352 See for example Diodorus, 16.23.5–6, where verses from the Iliad are invoked to prove that part of the sacred parcels of land near Delphi belonged to the patrimony of the Phoceans; B. Niese, Der homerische Schiffskatalog als historische Quelle (Kiel: Carl Schröder Verlag, 1873); M. P. Nilsson, A History of Greek Religion (trans. F. J. Fielden; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1949), 236–240. On p. 237, Nilsson writes that “There is consequently a political mythology. … The great legendary cycles were already established, but they could be altered in detail, and it is in the mythological padding, the genealogies, that this remodelling and alteration for political ends is seen most clearly. Athens and Megara both laid claim to Salamis and took the Spartans as their judge. The latter assigned the island to Athens because the Catalogue of Ships in the Iliad makes Aias place his ship alongside those of the Athenians. … Against the method itself no objection was raised, but it is significant that the Megarians, in order to refute the arguments of the Athenians, afterwards declared that Solon or Peisistratus had interpolated the said verses in the Iliad.” See also Bickerman, “Remarques sur le droit des gens dans la Grèce classique,” 123–124, who emphasizes that “Si les Phocidiens basaient sur un vers de l’Iliade leurs prétentions sur Delphes, si Solon citait un autre vers du même poème dans la procédure arbitrale à propos de Salamine, c’est pour prouver par des témoignages les plus anciens le titre allégué de propriété.” It was also common in the Greek world for syngeneiai to be based on myth (see O. Curty, Les parentés légendaires entre cités grecques: catalogue raisonné des inscriptions contenant le terme “suggeneia” et analyse critique [Geneva: Droz, 1995]; E. Will, “Syngeneia, oikeiotès, philia,” Revue de philologie, de littérature et d’histoire anciennes 69/2 [1995]: 299–325; A. Giovannini, “Les relations de parenté entre cités: À propos d’un livre récent,” Museum Helveticum 54 [1997]:158–162). There is in fact an example of this in 1 Maccabees 12:21, which mentions the existence of a syngeneia between the Judeans and the Spartans going back to Abraham! On the latter, see Cl. Orrieux, “La ‘parenté’ entre Juifs et Spartiates,” in L’étranger dans le monde grec (ed. R. Leonis; Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy, 1988), 1:167–191; E. S. Gruen, “The Purported Jewish-Spartan Affiliation,” in Transitions to Empire: Essays in Greco-Roman History, 360–146 B.C., in Honor of E. Badian (R. W. Wallace and E. M. Harris, ed.; Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1996), 254–269. 353 See Bickerman, “Bellum Antiochicum,” 51–53; Guizzi, “Conquista,” 52; Ma, Antiochos III, 31. Angelos Chaniotis also emphasises the distinction the Greeks drew between the right of ownership over a territory and possessing it as a result of circumstances: “We see that the terminology of the documents that concern territorial conflicts in Classical and Hellenistic Greece reveals an awareness of important legal distinctions and the difference between possession and ownership as well as between conditional possession and violent and unlawful occupation” (“Justifying Territorial Claims,” 190). The modern Zionist position, which is based on the notion of a Jewish historic right of ownership predating that of the Palestinian Arabs, and which minimizes the rights of ownership which are the result of the centuries-long continuous period of occupation of the land by non-Jews, reflects a Hellenistic, rather than Roman, perspective.

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to Zeus Diktaios. The representatives of Hierapytna claimed that the parcel of land at the centre of the dispute was part of the sacred territory of the sanctuary, which was under their control. However, the Magnesian judges reached the conclusion that this was not the case, pointing out that if this territory had been sacred, the citizens of Hierapytna would not have erected any buildings there.354 Remark­ ably – and just as in 1 Maccabees – at no point did either party resort to the argument that a divinity had given this territory to one city rather than the other. The inscription certainly does not mention anything of the sort. There are also similarities between Simon’s reply to Antiochus VII in 1 Maccabees and the discourse of the Seleucids in the Greek literary sources alluding to territorial disputes, especially in the writings of Polybius (which is not surprising, since it has been shown that his work and the inscriptions converge on many points).355 Let us for example consider Polybius’ account of the answer that Antiochus III gave to the Roman emissaries in 196 B.C.E., after they asked him to withdraw from a territory that used to be under the control of Ptolemy IV and Philip V respectively:356 … in the first place he was at a loss to know by what right they disputed his possession of the Asiatic cities; they were the last people who had any title to do so. 2. Next he requested them not to trouble themselves at all about Asiatic affairs; for he himself did not in the least go out of his way to concern himself with the affairs of Italy. 3. He said that he had crossed to Europe with his army for the purpose of recovering the Chersonese and the cities in Thrace, for he had a better title to the sovereignty of these places than anyone else (τὴν γὰρ τῶν τόπων τούτων ἀρχὴν μάλιστα πάντων αὑτῷ καθήκειν). 4. They originally formed part of Lysimachus’ kingdom, but when Seleucus went to war with that prince and conquered him in the war, the whole of Lysimachus’ kingdom came to Seleucus by right of conquest (Σελεύκου δὲ πολεμήσαντος πρὸς αὐτὸν καὶ κρατήσαντος τῷ πολέμῳ πᾶσαν τὴν Λυσιμάχου βασιλείαν δορίκτητον γενέσθαι Σελεύκου). 5. But during the years that followed, when his ancestors (τῶν αὑτοῦ προγόνων) had their attention deflected elsewhere, first of all Ptolemy and then Philip had robbed them of those places and appropriated them (σφετερίσασθαι τοὺς τόπους τούτους). 6. At present he was not possessing himself of them by taking advantage of Philip’s difficulties, but he was repossessing himself of them by his right as well as by his might (αὐτὸς δὲ νῦν οὐ κτᾶσθαι τοῖς Φιλίππου καιροῖς συνεπιτιθέμενος, ἀλλ᾽ ἀνακτᾶσθαι τοῖς ἰδίοις δικαίοις συγχρώμενος). (Hist. 18.51.1–6; trans. A. Chaniotis, “Victory’s Verdict,” 459)

354 For a critique of this argument, see Guizzi, “Conquista,” 45–46. 355 See Curty, “L’historiographie hellénistique,” 11–15. 356 Paul Kosmin also notes the similarities between 1 Macc 15 and this passage in Polybius; see Kosmin, The Land of the Elephant Kings, 255.

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This is clearly a case of conquest (§ 4).357 As we have already mentioned, conquest was a legitimate way to acquire a new territory in the Hellenistic world, provided a certain number of rules had been observed. The fact that one conquest was often followed by another meant that the foundations of this right were often rather shaky and open to contestation. This brings us back to the issues raised by the determination of a terminus a quo. Antiochus III merely asserts that his conquest of the Chersonese and the Thracian cities was justified because the real terminus a quo lay with his ancestor Seleucus I Nicanor in 281 B.C.E. In other words, the Seleucid dynasty, and in particular Antiochus III – as the distant heir of Seleucus I – had a legitimate right of ownership over these territories. This right, which had originally been acquired through a conquest, had then been inherited by later generations, and as such the Seleucids could lay claim to both of these principles of legitimacy.358 Ptolemy and Philip could also claim to have conquered these territories. However, since, in order to confer a right of property, this war had to have been waged against the legitimate owner of the territory, Antiochus simply explained that neither Ptolemy nor Philip had directly fought the Seleucids: instead, they had merely seized the opportunity to take these territories against their will. The logic of the argument presented by Antiochus III should of course be taken with a grain of salt. John Ma makes the lucid observation that The Seleukids spoke about the past, in terms of ownership rights, not simply in reference to accepted legal principles, but in order to cover up or legitimize aggression against other kingdoms, the violent takeover of cities and the imposition of control in oppressive manifestations such as tribute or garrisons.359

This Seleucid rhetoric illuminates Simon’s own discourse in 1 Maccabees 15. Not only does Simon invoke an ancestral right of ownership, like Antiochus III – according to Polybius at least –, but he claims that the conquest of the Judean territory was illegitimate and improper (v. 33: ὑπὸ δὲ ἐχθρῶν ἡμῶν ἀκρίτως ἔν τινι καιρῷ κατεκρατήθη). Although the word ἀκρίτως (“without discernment” or “unduly”) is rather vague, in this particular context, it seems likely that what it means is that this conquest had no validity: the Seleucids had taken Judea from the Lagids, as opposed to the Judeans themselves, the legitimate owners of the territory. Like Antiochus III in Polybius’ text, Simon concludes that this gave the Judeans the right to take up arms and reassert their control over their territory, since their right of owner357 See in particular Mehl, “ΔΟΡΙΚΤΗΤΟΣ ΧΩΡΑ”. 358 See also OGIS 335 (Pergamon 1:245, with the corrections and restitutions added by Louis Robert in IG XII Suppl., No 142), lines 127–136, on a territorial dispute between Pitanē and Mytilene, which was arbitrated by Pergamon; Pitanē argued that the territory had been sold twice in accordance with the rules, in one case by the successor of Seleucus I, Antiochus I. The citizens of Pitanē also cited the work of historians in support of their territorial claims (lines 125–126). 359 Antiochos III, 32.

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ship endured. However, the argument that Simon develops is rather vague, compared with the case that Antiochus puts forward. In particular, he fails to mention a terminus a quo and – significantly – to refer to the original conquest of the land by the ancestors of the Judeans, in the days of either Joshua or David. We might compare him in this regard with the author of the First Book of Chronicles, whose retelling of the history of Israel almost completely omits to mention the exodus and the conquest of the promised land, and suggests instead that Israel’s historical connection with, and occupation of, the land had been quasi-linear and continuous from the patriarchs to the last kings.360 One could think that Joshua’s initial conquest of the land of Canaan had taken place too long ago for Simon to bring it up in his exchange with the Seleucids. However, the fact that, as we have seen, the Greeks mentioned the Iliad in the context of their own territorial conflicts, shows that it was not considered incongruous in the context of such disputes, to refer to the distant past or even to a mythical time. The argument that this tradition was too ancient to be invoked has no validity: on the contrary, the very fact that this tradition went so far back in time was an argument in favour of the Judeans. One question remains to be answered, however: was there already a Greek version of the Book of Joshua at the time, on which to base such arguments? And if that book had already been translated into Greek, would the interlocutors of the Hasmoneans have perceived it as a reliable historiographical document? Another objection might be that there was no third party arbitrating this conflict: no judges had been brought in from outside, as in the case of Hierapytna and Itanos. The First Book of Maccabees merely describes the diplomatic exchange that took place between the protagonists of the conflict themselves, at a time when the dispute was still in its early stages. However, there are passages in the work of Polybius, in which ambassadors who have been entrusted with the task of pleading the cause of a city invoke “historical” arguments very similar to those that would normally have been presented to judges appointed to resolve a territorial dispute.361 In other words, the fact that the two parties involved in the conflict are in direct communication with each other is not enough to explain why the historical arguments they invoke are not more developed. In any case, it remains significant that, according to 1 Maccabees, Simon did not refer to the original conquest of the land by the ancestors of the Judeans, but merely invoked a right of ownership based on a hereditary mode 360 On this aspect of the Chronicles, see Sarah Japhet, who writes that “There is a direct line from Israel the patriarch to Israel the people, and the line is one of natural growth and multiplication, taking place in the natural environment of the land of Israel. … It is a most distinctive and revolutionary concept: contrary to most of established historical traditions of the Pentateuch and the Former Prophets, the Chronicler presents a concept of people and land which is autochtonic in its basic features” (“Conquest and Settlement in Chronicles,” JBL 98/2 [1979]: 205–218; the quotation is on p. 218). See also idem, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and its Place in Biblical Thought (Bern: P. Lang, 1989), 374–379. 361 Curty, “L’historiographie hellénistique,” 11–13.

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of transmission, without actually mentioning how the territory under dispute first came to belong to the ancestors of the Judeans. Although the author of 1 Maccabees fails to mention the terminus a quo, he nevertheless exhibits his familiarity with the diplomatic and juridical arguments used to assert a right of ownership in the context of a territorial conflict between two parties. This point – the implications of which commentators have for the most part failed to take on board up until now – provides us with yet more evidence that the Hasmoneans were well-integrated within the Hellenistic world. The author’s mastery of the arguments developed in Hellenistic territorial conflicts is also coherent with his capacity to imagine or exploit a syngeneia between the Judeans and Spartans, since the notion of kinship ties was itself also characteristic of Hellenistic diplomatic exchanges. Historiographical and poetic sources provided the basis for claims to both ancestral property rights and mythical kinship ties. However, although 1 Maccabees explicitly describes Abraham as the common ancestor of both the Spartans and the Judeans (1 Macc 12:21), the book does not provide the reader with any biblical references regarding the Judeans’ right of ownership over their land. Instead, 1 Maccabees mentions that this right is based on a patrimonial mode of transmission, articulating a new historico-juridical – as opposed to theologico-juridical – discourse on the relationship of Israel to its land.362

7. The development of a historico-juridical conception of Israel’s right of ownership over the land 7.1 The original allotment of the land according to the Book of Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon This new discourse on the relationship of Israel to the land is not only found in 1 Maccabees, but also in other Jewish sources from the Hellenistic – and later, Roman – periods. The development of a juridical, or historico-juridical, conception of Israel’s relationship to the land in the second century B.C.E., is especially clear in the Book of Jubilees. Although this book was originally written in Hebrew, the only existing version of the integral text is Ethiopian. The passages which I shall focus on here were not preserved in the fragments found at Qumran, but are only documented in the Ethiopian version. However, a comparison of the Qumran 362 Compare for example with Ezek 20:42 (MT), in which God speaks to the Israelites in the following terms: “You shall know that I am the Lord, when I bring you into the land of Israel, the country that I swore to give to your ancestors.” Although the land is defined in relation to the “ancestors,” the emphasis is on the gift of the land by God, and more generally on God’s power: it is God who gave the land to the ancestors, sent their descendants into exile, brought them back, etc. The land is always at the heart of the covenant between God and his people.

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manuscripts and the Ethiopian manuscripts of Jubilees shows that the translation of this work into Ge‘ez, which was itself based on a Greek translation, is reasonably faithful to the Hebrew original, which means that the text that is written in Ge‘ez is relatively reliable.363 The exact date when this book was written is a subject of debate: some scholars date it to the period that came immediately before or after the Maccabean revolt, while others date it to the end of the second century B.C.E.364 The fact that the Book of Jubilees is a rewriting of the Book of Genesis and the beginning of Exodus, means that it contains no allusions to contemporary historical events. As a result, the arguments put forward in favour of this or that date are based on deductions that can be rather shaky. Some commentators argue that the very absence in this work of any reference, however veiled, to the crisis of 167 and the Maccabean revolt, proves that it predates these events. However, it is not clear why an author writing at the end of the second century B.C.E. should refer to an already distant crisis. The date attributed to this book also depends on whether it is seen as a unified whole by a single redactor, a compilation of different traditions, or a work that was revised by a later interpolator. In order to make sense of the fact that there are several contradictions between the narrative and legislative – or halakhic – sections of the book, Michael Segal has 363 See J. C. VanderKam, “The Jubilees Fragments from Qumran Cave 4,” in The Madrid Qumran Congress (ed. J. C. Trebolle Barrera; Leiden: Brill, 1992), 2:635–648. On the text of Jubilees in Ge‘ez, see VanderKam, The Book of Jubilees. A Critical Text (CSCO 510; Leuven: Peeters, 1989); VanderKam’s English translation was published in the same collection, vol. 511. 364 R. H. Charles dated it to the period of John Hyrcanus, at the end of the second century B.C.E. (The Book of Jubilees or the Little Genesis [London: Adam and Charles Black, 1902], vii–viii). This date was adopted by several scholars, including Michel Testuz, who dated the key parts of the book to 110 B.C.E. with later additions between 63 and 38 B.C.E. (Les idées religieu­ ses du livre des Jubilés [Geneva–Paris: Droz, 1960], 25–39); Doron Mendels, who dates it to 125 B.C.E. in The Land of Israel, 57; and Cana Werman, who dates it to the end of the second century without providing a precise date in “The Book of Jubilees and the Qumran Community: The Relationship Between the Two,” Meghillot 2 (2004): 37–55. However, F. Bohn, who was the first to date Jubilees to the second century B.C.E., opted for the middle of that century, immediately after the Maccabean revolt (“Die Bedeutung des Buches der Jubiläen: Zum 50jährigen Jubiläum der ersten, deutschen Übersetzung,” Theologische Studien und Kritiken 73 [1900], 167–184). Klaus Berger dates it to circa 145 and 140 in Das Buch der Jubiläen (JSHRZ 2:3; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1981), 300. Other scholars have suggested an even earlier date, including Eberhard Schwartz, who dates it between 175 and 164 in Identität durch Abgrenzung: Abgrenzungsprozesse in Israel im 2. vorchristlichen Jahrhundert und ihre traditionsgeschichtlichen Voraussetzungen. Zugleich ein Beitrag zur Erforschung des Jubiläenbuches (Bern: P. Lang, 1982), 102–126. James Scott dates it between 170 and 150 B.C.E. in Geography in Early Judaism and Christianity: The Book of Jubilees (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 27. David Hamidović is more precise and prefers to date its redaction to the time of Judas, between 166 and 160 B.C.E. in Les traditions du jubilé à Qumrân (Paris: Geuthner, 2007), 29–33. George W. E. Nickelsburg dates the book to a period before the “persecution” in Jewish Literature Between the Bible and the Mishnah (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 20052), 73–74; similarly, James Kugel opts for a date at the start of the second century B.C.E. in Traditions of the Bible (Cambridge–London: Harvard University Press, 1998), 922.

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suggested that the redaction of the Book of Jubilees has a complex history. In particular, he argues that this work is based on several sources, some of which may have dated from a much earlier period, and that the final text was put together by the author of the halakhic sections.365 Among the various narrative sections that Segal attributes to a tradition inherited by the author, are the passages describing the lots of land allotted to each one of Noah’s sons.366 James Kugel proposes a different model, according to which revisions were added to an originally coherent work by an interpolator. In Kugel’s view, the original work comprised chapters 7 to 10, which include the passages pertaining to the allotment of land to the sons of Noah.367 In other words, the redaction of the book may have taken place over a very large period of time, and we have to rely on internal textual data to determine the date of the various parts of the text. However, it is nevertheless possible to determine a terminus ad quem for the redaction of the book with a certain level of precision: this work seems to have enjoyed great popularity in circles connected with the Qumran community, and perhaps even beyond these circles, since at least 15 manuscripts were found near the Dead Sea, along with related compositions which may have been inspired by Jubilees.368 The fact that 4Q216 is dated between 125 and 100 B.C.E., means that the terminus ad quem for the redaction of the book was circa 100 B.C.E. at the latest. On the whole, the scholarly community has tended to follow James VanderKam’s argument that the book dates from between 164 and 140 (or even 152) B.C.E.369 In any case, however, if one accepts that the book was written in several stages, whatever the model used, the passages 365 For a general presentation of this argument, see M. Segal, The Book of Jubilees: Rewritten Bible, Redaction, Ideology and Theology (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 21–35. Other scholars had already suggested before him that the Book of Jubilees was the result of several redactional layers; see in particular, L. Ravid, “The Special Terminology of the Heavenly Tablets in the Book of Jubilees,” Tarbiz 68 (1999): 463–471 (Heb.); idem, “The Relationship of the Sabbath Laws in Jubilees 50:6–13 to the Rest of the Book,” Tarbiz 69 (2000): 161–166 (Heb.). Menahem Kister had also already noted the existence of contradictions between the narrative and halakhic sections of Jubilees in “Some Aspects of Qumranic Halakhah,” in The Madrid Qumran Congress (ed. J.  C. Trebolle Barrera; Leiden: Brill, 1992), 2:571–588. 366 See also J. C. VanderKam, “Recent Scholarship on the Book of Jubilees,” Currents in Biblical Research 6/3 (2008): 405–431 (see esp. 412–416).  367 J. Kugel, “On the Interpolations in the Book of Jubilees,” RQ 94 [24] (2009): 215–272. He identifies 29 interpolations added by a later redactor. His work is inspired by the research of both Segal and Ravid (see n. 365). 368 See D. Hamidović (ed. and trans.), “Jubilés,” in La Bibliothèque de Qumrân. Volume 2. Torah–Exode, Lévitique, Nombres (K. Berthelot and T. Legrand, ed.; Paris: Editions du Cerf, 2010), 81–191. 369 See J. C. VanderKam, “The Origins and Purposes of the Book of Jubilees,” in Studies in the Book of Jubilees (ed. M. Albani; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 3–24 (see p. 20); idem, “Jubilees,” in The Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (L. H. Schiffman and J. C. VanderKam, ed.; London: Oxford University Press, 2000), 434–435; idem, “Recent Scholarship on the Book of Jubilees,” 409. For a critique of VanderKam’s argument, see in particular Segal, The Book of Jubilees, 36–37.

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pertaining to the allotment of land to the descendants of Noah are all dated to the oldest part of the book. But let us now turn to the contents of Jubilees. The Book of Jubilees contains sui-generis accounts of Noah’s curse of Canaan and of the division of the earth and distribution of land between his descendants after the deluge (chapters 9 and 10 of Genesis). According to Gen 10, the Canaanites met with no particular problems when they settled on the land of Canaan, between Sidon to the north and Gaza to the south: indeed the fact that this land bears their name is evidence of this, as is the fact that Sidon was descended from Canaan.370 However, the author of Jubilees has a very different perspective on this issue: according to him, this land was the rightful property of the descendants of Shem (i. e. Israel) and Canaan had no right to seize it. The key passages describing this case of patrimonial usurpation are the following: 7:7 When evening came, he went into his tent. He lay down drunk and fell asleep. He was uncovered in his tent as he slept. 7:8 Ham saw his father Noah naked and went out and told his two brothers outside. 7:9 Then Shem took some clothes, rose – he and Japheth – and they put the clothes on their shoulders as they were facing backwards. They covered their father’s shame as they were facing backwards. 7:10 When Noah awakened from his sleep, he realized everything that his youngest son had done to him. He cursed his son and said: “Cursed be Canaan. May he become an abject slave to his brothers.” 7:11 Then he blessed Shem and said: “May the Lord, the God of Shem, be blessed. May Canaan become his slave. 7:12 May the Lord enlarge Japheth, and may the Lord live in the place where Shem resides. May Canaan become their slave.” 7:13 When Ham realized that his father had cursed his youngest son, it was so displeasing to him that he had cursed his son. He separated from his father – he and with him his sons Cush, Mizraim, Put, and Canaan … 8:10 At the beginning of the thirty-third jubilee [1569–1617] they divided the earth into three parts – for Shem, Ham, and Japheth – each in his own inheritance. (This happened) in the first year of the first week [1569] while one of us who were sent 370 See Gen 10:15–19: “15 Canaan became the father of Sidon his firstborn, and Heth, 16 and the Jebusites, the Amorites, the Girgashites, 17 the Hivites, the Arkites, the Sinites, 18 the Arvadites, the Zemarites, and the Hamathites. Afterwards the families of the Canaanites spread abroad. 19 And the territory of the Canaanites extended from Sidon, in the direction of Gerar, as far as Gaza, and in the direction of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, and Zeboiim, as far as Lasha.” Commenting on this text, J. C. VanderKam writes that “The boundaries of the Canaanites are given in a straightforward and generous manner; there seems to be no after-effect from the curse in 9.25;” see “Putting Them in Their Place: Geography as an Evaluative Tool,” in Pursuing the Text. Studies in Honor of Ben Zion Wacholder (J. C. Reeves and J. Kampen, ed.; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 46–69 (reprinted in From Revelation to Canon. Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Literature [Leiden: Brill, 2000], 476–499); the quotation is on p. 53 [or p. 483]. Writing on Jubilees, he adds that: “The curse which Canaan there receives [in Genesis 9] appears to be of no consequence in Genesis 10, but in Jubilees, though it is surprisingly phrased no more vociferously than in Genesis, it manifestly sets the stage for what is to follow” (p. 55 or 485).

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was staying with them. 8:11 When he summoned his children, they came to him – they and their children. He divided the earth into the lots which his three sons would occupy. They reached out their hands and took the book371 from the bosom of their father Noah. 8:12 In the book372 there emerged as Shem’s lot the center of the earth which he would occupy as an inheritance for him and for his children throughout the history of eternity.373 … 8:17 This share emerged by lot for Shem and his children to occupy it forever, throughout his generation until eternity. 8:18 Noah was very happy that this share had emerged for Shem and his children. He recalled everything that he had said in prophecy with his mouth, for he had said: “May the Lord, the God of Shem, be blessed, and may the Lord live in the places where Shem resides”. 8:19 He knew that the Garden of Eden is the holy of holies and is the residence of the Lord; (that) Mt. Sinai is in the middle of the desert; and (that) Mt. Zion is in the middle of the navel of the earth. The three of them – the one facing the other – were created as holy (places). … 9:1 Ham divided (his share) among his sons. There emerged a first share for Cush to the east; to the west of him (one) for Egypt; to the west of him (one) for Put; to the west of him (one) for Canaan; and to the west of him was the sea. … 9:14 In this way Noah’s sons divided (the earth) for their sons in front of their father Noah. He made (them) swear by oath to curse each and every one who wanted to occupy the share which did not emerge by his lot. 9:15 All of them said: “So be it”! So be it for them and their children until eternity during their generations until the day of judgment … 10:28 Ham and his sons went into the land which he was to occupy, which he had acquired as his share, in the southern country. 10:29 When Canaan saw that the land of Lebanon as far as the stream of Egypt was very beautiful, he did not go to his hereditary land to the west of the sea. He settled in the land of Lebanon, on the east and west, from the border of Lebanon and on the seacoast. 10:30 His father Ham and his brothers Cush and Mizraim said to him: “You have settled in a land which was not yours and did not emerge for us by lot. Do not act this way, for if you do act this way both you and your children will fall in the land and be cursed with rebellion, because you have settled in rebellion and in rebellion your children will fall and be uprooted forever. 10:31 Do not settle in Shem’s residence because it emerged by their lot for Shem and his sons. 10:32 You are cursed and will be cursed more than all of Noah’s children through the curse by which we obligated ourselves with an oath before the holy judge and before our father Noah”. 10:33 But he did not listen to them. He settled in the land of Lebanon – from Hamath to the entrance of Egypt – he and his sons until the present. 10:34 For this reason that land was named the land of Canaan. (Jubilees 7:7–10:34; trans. J. C. VanderKam, The Book of Jubilees, 44–45, 52–53, 56, 58, 63–64) 371 372 373

Or: a writing, something written. Or: According to the writing. Or: through (all) the generations, for eternity.

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The version of Gen 9:21–27 which is presented in the Book of Jubilees includes a significant exegetical clarification, since it is unclear in Gen 9:27 (“May God make space for Japhet, and let him live in the tents of Shem; and let Canaan be his slave”) whether it is Japhet or God who shall dwell in the tents of Shem. The author of Jubilees – as well as the redactor of a commentary on Genesis found at Qumran (4Q252) – both thought it obvious that it was God who dwelled in the tents of Shem (Jub 7:12).374 Jubilees 8:18–19 also asserts, in connection with Gen 9:27, that Mount Zion (like Eden and Mount Sinai) is God’s dwelling place. In other words, the inheritance of the sons of Shem extends from Mesopotamia to Mount Sinai, and includes Canaan. Chapter 9 clarifies the location of the territories allocated to the descendants of Ham: they were all located in North Africa. Put, for example, was located in a territory corresponding to Libya, and probably part of Tunisia. The land of Canaan would have been located in its westernmost part, and would have included Morocco and perhaps also Algeria (Jub 9:1). This distribution of the territories – which, according to the author of Jubilees was the result of a drawing of lots – is clearly at odds with the literal meaning of Gen 10.375

374 See 4Q252 col.II, frg. 1+3, lines 5–8, and G. J. Brooke, “The Thematic Content of 4Q252,” JQR 85/1–2 (1994): 33–59, esp. 41–44; idem, “The Genre of 4Q252: From Poetry to Pesher,” DSD 1 (1994): 160–179, esp. 167–168; idem, DJD XXII. Qumran Cave 4. XVII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 3 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 199. Moshe Bernstein emphasizes the exegetical aspect of the work; see “4Q242: From Re-Written Bible to Biblical Commentary,” JJS 45/1 (1994): 1–27 (esp. 11) and “4Q252: Method and Context, Genre and Sources,” JQR 85/1–2 (1994): 61–79, esp. 66–68 and 78, where he rightly observes that “The quotation should still be explained as an asyndetic relative clause (‘the land which he gave…’) which defines ‫אהלי שם‬. The function of the ‘poetic’ citation is also ‘exegetical’.” André Caquot failed to notice this exegetical dimension in “Suppléments qumrâniens à la Genèse,” RHPR 80/3 (2000), 339–358 (see p. 354). However, Kevin Trehuedic did see it in La Bibliothèque de Qumrân. Volume 1. Torah– Genèse (ed. K. Berthelot et al.; Paris: Cerf, 2008), 305. See also K. Berthelot, “The Original Sin of the Canaanites,” in The “Other” in Second Temple Judaism: Essays in Honor of John J. Collins (ed. D. Harlow et al.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 49–66. 375 On the map of the world described in Jubilees and its relationship with Ionian cartography, see G. Hölscher, Drei Erdkarten: Ein Beitrag zur Erdkenntnis des hebräischen Altertums (Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse [1944/48] No 3; Heidelberg: Carl Winter–Universitätsverlag, 1949), 57–73; P. S. Alexander, “Notes on the ‘Imago Mundi’ of the Book of Jubilees,” JJS 33 (1982): 197–213; F. Schmidt, “Naissance d’une géographie juive,” in Moïse Géographe: Recherches sur les représentations jui­ ves et chrétiennes de l’espace (A. Desreumaux and F. Schmidt, ed.; Paris: J. Vrin, 1988), 13–30 (a slightly different version was published in English under the title “Jewish Representations of the Inhabited Earth,” in Greece and Rome in Eretz Israel. Collected Essays [ed. A. Kasher et al.; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi–The Israel Exploration Society, 1990], 119–134); VanderKam, “Putting Them in Their Place”; J. M. Scott, “The Division of the Earth in Jubilees 8:11–9:15 and Early Christian Chronography,” in Studies in the Book of Jubilees (ed. M. Albani et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 295–323; idem, Geography in Early Judaism and Christianity, 23–43; J.T.A.G.M.  Van ­Ruiten, Primaeval History Interpreted. The Rewriting of Genesis 1–11 in the Book of Jubilees (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 307–363; E. Eshel, “The Imago Mundi of the Genesis Apocryph-

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Jubilees 9 also introduces another major innovation, with the claim that Noah’s descendants had to promise him under oath that they would not seek to seize any territory that they had not obtained when they drew their lots, or they would be cursed forever, along with their descendants (9:14–15). This sets the scene for the dramatic turn of events in chapter 10, when Canaan decides to take possession of a territory allocated to the sons of Shem – i. e. the land that Israel would eventually inherit. Having broken his promise, he is cursed a second time and his descendants are condemned to be eradicated by the sons of Israel.376 In other words, the Book of Jubilees claims that: 1) the “land of Canaan” was never meant to be occupied by the Canaanites, nor was it meant to be called after them; and 2) that not only did the Canaanites commit a major transgression when they took possession of a land that was not meant for them, but they knew the price they would have to pay. Several commentators have read these excerpts of Jubilees in light of the strained relationship the Judeans had with their neighbours in the second century B.C.E., whether this was because of the Seleucid domination or the Hasmonean conquests. All of them consider that the question of the sovereignty of the Judeans over the land of Israel played a key role in the way the author of Jubilees rewrote the account of Genesis.377 However, the question of the Judeans’ sovereignty over the land arose at several points in time during the Hellenistic period. Thus, James VanderKam, who dates the book to a period close to the Maccabean revolt writes: But the larger goals of the system – national freedom and possession of the land – may also be viewed against the backdrop suggested by 1 Macc 1:11. In a time when Judeans were subject to foreign powers who were at least interested in blending them into the surrounding culture, the writer of Jubilees articulated a powerful argument for freedom from foreign domination and Judean possession of their own land. The land was theirs by ancient right, the land of a people who would enjoy political blesson,” in Heavenly Tablets. Interpretation, Identity and Tradition in Ancient Judaism (L. LiDonnici and A. Lieber, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 111–131; C. Werman, “Jubilees in the Hellenistic Context,” in ibid., 133–158 (see esp. 136–141). 376 The proleptic function of this narrative is obvious; on this point I refer the reader to my article on “The Original Sin of the Canaanites.” It is worth noting that the Book of Jubilees does not really explain how the first curse that falls on Canaan (and corresponds with Gen 9) is related to this second malediction. It could be that the second should be considered to be a consequence of the first. 377 See in particular Lewy, “Ein Rechtsstreit um Boden Palästinas im Altertum.” This was already the opinion of Charles in The Book of Jubilees or the Little Genesis, 68. See also VanderKam, “Putting Them in Their Place,” 67 (or 497) and 69 (or 499) (cautiously); and Shatzman, according to whom the author of Jubilees has written “an exhortation to take control of Eretz Israel, unjustly usurped by ‘Canaan,’ that is, the nations roundabout Judaea. … it is possible to regard the polemic as part of a Jewish debate on the merits, dangers and religious justification of the expansionist wars” (“Jews and Gentiles,” 264–265 and 270). However, Menahem Kister argues that the account of Genesis we find in Jubilees should be seen as an exegetical development born of internal Jewish debates, which were not necessarily linked to the Hasmonean expansion (“The Fate of the Canaanites and the Despoliation of the Egyptians,” esp. 75–76).

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ings if they lived sincerely according to the covenant. (VanderKam, “The Origins and Purposes,” 22)378

The connections between the Book of Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon The notion that the “land of Canaan” had originally been allocated to the descendants of Shem also arises in the Genesis Apocryphon (col. XVI–XVII),379 a book which it is difficult to date with precision.380 The relationship between the Apocryphon and Jubilees is a subject of debate,381 and it is possible to think that these two works are based on shared traditions.382 According to both Jubilees and the Apocryphon, the earth was divided into different lots or portions which were then drawn.383 However, there is no mention in the Apocryphon – or what remains of 378 Similarly, Daniel Machiela writes that “… it seems likely that Jubilees is also making a claim on the land vis-à-vis foreign occupation. The laughably small allotment of Javan (i. e. Greece) in particular suggests that the Greeks may be the targets of such a claim. This would fit well with the standard opinion that Jubilees was written in the midst of the Maccabean revolt against the Seleucids” (The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon: A New Text and Translation with Introduction and Special Treatment of Columns 13–17 [STDJ 79; Leiden: Brill, 2009], 120). 379 See in particular Eshel, “The Imago Mundi of the Genesis Apocryphon”. 380 On the date of this work, see Machiela, The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon, 134–142. Machiela argues convincingly in favour of dating it to the first half of the second century B.C.E. In particular, he shows that there are many similarities between the Apocryphon and other works from the third and second centuries B.C.E. 381 For the argument that Jubilees reformulates pre-existing traditions, see C. Werman, “Qumran and the Book of Noah,” in Pseudepigraphic Perspectives: The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha in the Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Proceedings of the Second International Symposium of the Orion Center, 12–14 January 1997 (M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 171–181; E. Eshel, “The Imago Mundi of the Genesis Apocryphon;” M. Segal, “The Literary Relationship Between the Genesis Apocryphon and Jubilees: The Chronology of Abram and Sarai’s Descent to Egypt,” Aramaic Studies 8/1–2 (2010): 71–88. For the opposite argument, according to which the Apocryphon draws its inspiration from Jubilees, see for example J. A. Fitzmyer, The Genesis Apocryphon of Qumran Cave 1 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1966), 14; Schmidt, “Naissance d’une géographie juive,” 24; G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Patriarchs Who Worry About Their Wives,” in Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 137–158; J. Kugel, “Which is Older, Jubilees or the Genesis Apocryphon? An Exegetical Approach,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture (ed. A. D. Roitman et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 257–294. 382 See F. García Martínez, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies in the Aramaic from Qumran (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 40–41; and, more recently, Machiela, The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon, 13–17 and 141–142. 383 The Aramean word ‫( עדב‬col. XVI, lines 12 and 14) means “lot” (and by derivation “portion”). This is the word used in the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan to translate ‫ גורל‬in Josh 15:1 and 16:1 (see Caquot, “Suppléments qoumrâniens à la Genèse”). However, the reconstitution of the narrative developed in the Apocryphon nevertheless suggests that it differed significantly from Jubilees 8:10–11.

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it – of the oath taken by Noah’s descendants and its transgression by Canaan. In column XIV, Noah has a vision of two intertwined branches: “vacat … the darkness, and part of their bough entering into the midst of the bough of the first one, (concerns) two sons  …” (line 16; see also line 17).384 The first branch seems to designate Shem, and the two other intertwined branches, Ham and Japhet. It may be that we should interpret the words preserved in these lines as a metaphorical and coded reference to the domination of the Judean territory by the descendants of Ham and Japhet (the Lagids – identified with Ham because of their presence in Egypt – and the Seleucids, for example). However, this is merely a hypothesis, since the text on which this argument is based is so poorly preserved that only a few fragments remain. It would be even rasher to consider that these lines constitute an attestation of the version transmitted by Jubilees 10:28–36, especially since it seems that in the Apocryphon, the cedar tree’s firstborn (i. e. Shem) is under threat from his two brothers, and not only from a descendant of Ham as in Jubilees.385 Finally, Noah’s vision seems to be referring to a much more distant future than the generations immediately after his own, and there is no mention of any usurpation of land in the account of the allotment of the land in the columns that follow. This leaves us with the observation that the Apocryphon mentions neither the oath nor Canaan’s transgression. The portrait that Jubilees draws of the Canaanites as perjurers and thieves is thus a genuine innovation, or at least a tradition only attested in that work in the second century B.C.E. I believe that the Hellenistic context of the Apocryphon and Jubilees offers a partial explanation for the inclusion of the “land of Canaan” in the lot drawn by the descendants of Shem in both the Apocryphon and Jubilees, and for the episode describing the transgression of Canaan in Jubilees. This does not exclude the possibility that they reflect an exegetical logic or that the Judeans felt the need to strengthen their case in the face of territorial conflicts with their neighbours. However, my hypothesis does not presuppose a situation of conflict and can be envisaged at various times during the second century B.C.E., including before the Maccabean crisis.

The Hellenistic context of the juridical or historico-juridical discourse used to establish the right of ownership Although the worldview and the message of Jubilees differ on several points from those of 1 Maccabees, the author of Jubilees was also very familiar with the Hel-

61.

384  Edition and translation by Daniel A. Machiela, in The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon,

385 Although one of Japhet’s descendants, Madai, is unhappy with his lot and settles on a different territory (in Media) in Jubilees, this happens following an amicable alliance (10:35–36).

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lenistic world, and in particular with its maps of the world,386 even if this book – as indeed 1 Maccabees – at times also displays a great level of hostility towards non-Jews. Although he seems opposed to the thorough Hellenization of Judea, his work nevertheless shows that he was familiar with Hellenistic culture, and with the vision of the world inspired by Ionian cartography.387 The same is true of the Genesis Apocryphon. Thus, Daniel Machiela observes that “Like Jubilees, the Genesis Apocryphon displays a considerable amount of Greek influence. Most significant in both works is a heavy indebtedness to the Ionian world map …”388 However, unlike the Apocryphon, Jubilees explicitly presents Jerusalem as the centre (omphalos) of the world, thus exhibiting its Judeocentric perspective.389 Philip Alexander nevertheless concludes that “The Jubilees world map is one of the clearest examples we possess of the impact of Hellenistic thought on the Palestinian Jewish cultural milieu at this period.”390 Although there are biblical precedents to the practice of lot casting to distribute land,391 this motif has particular resonances in the context of the Hellenistic world, especially when it is associated with an account of an original distribution of land and its transgression by one of the parties involved. This is clear, first of all, in a passage from Book 3 of the Sybilline Oracles – a Jewish text written in Greek 386 Adolph Büchler already drew the attention of the scholarly community to the parallels betwen Jubilees and Jewish or Samaritan works written in Greek; however, he did not broach the issue of cartography (“Traces des idées et des coutumes hellénistiques dans le Livre des Jubilés,” REJ 89 [1930]: 321–348). See especially Werman, “Jubilees in the Hellenistic Context”. 387 See the bibliography provided in n. 375. 388 The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon, 133. A few lines later, he adds that “The presence of these Greek elements provides a very early terminus post quem for the scroll of approximately the early 3rd cent. BCE. Presumably, this is the earliest we could expect significant penetration of Hellenistic geographic science into Judea (probably via one of the outlying Greek cultural centers, such as Samaria, Gaza, or Alexandria)”. 389 Delphi was at the centre of the world described in Ionian maps; see Alexander, “Notes on the ‘Imago Mundi’,” 198; and also idem, “Jerusalem as the Omphalos of the World: On the History of a Geographical Concept,” in Jerusalem: Its Sanctity and Centrality to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (ed. L. I. Levine; New York: Continuum, 1999), 104–119. On the fact that the omphalos does not shift from Delphi to Jerusalem in the Genesis Apocryphon, see Eshel, “The Imago Mundi,” 123. 390 “Notes on the ‘Imago Mundi’,” 211. He also writes on the same page that “In terms of general Hellenistic scholarship his geographical knowledge must be adjudged perfectly respectable: it is roughly on a par with that displayed in Ps-Aristotle’s De Mundo”. 391 These echoes primarily concern the drawing of lots between the tribes of Israel under Joshua’s leadership; see Num 26:55–56; 33:54; Josh 14:2; 15:1; 16:1; 17:1; 18:1–21:40. Francis Schmidt observes (rather simplistically, it seems to me) that Jubilees “transfère au partage de la terre entre les Noachides les instructions de Moïse concernant le partage du pays de Canaan entre les fils d’Israël” (“Naissance d’une géographie juive,” 18). See also VanderKam, “Putting Them in Their Place,” 488; and F. García Martínez, “Geography as Theology: From the Book of Jubilees to the Phaleg by Arias Montano” (trans. W. G. E. Watson), in F. García Martínez, Between Philology and Theology: Contributions to the Study of Ancient Jewish Interpretation (H. Najman and E. Tigchelaar, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 31–48 (see esp. p. 40).

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which may also date from the second century B.C.E. – which combines biblical narratives and Greek myths to tell the history of the world.392 Ten generations after the deluge, immediately after the dispersion at Babel, three brothers were made king: Cronus, Titan, and Japet (whose name of course brings to mind Japhet and Noah’s three sons). This is how their story goes: 114 The portions of the earth were threefold, according to the lot of each (κατὰ κλῆρον ἑκάστου),/115 and each one reigned, having his share, and they did not fight/116 for there were oaths imposed by their father, and the divisions were just./117 When the full time, the old age of the father, came,/118 he also died, and the sons made a dire/119 transgression of oaths and stirred up strife against each other,/120 as to who should have royal honor and reign over all men./121 Cronos and Titan fought against each other/122 but Rhea, Gaia, Aphrodite who loves crowns,/123 Demeter, Hestia, and fair-tressed Dione/124 brought them to friendship, having assembled/125 all the kings, kindred and brothers, and other men who were of the same blood and parents. (Sib. Or. 3.114–125; trans. J. J. Collins, “Sibylline Oracles,” 364–365)

Although the influence of Greek mythology is more in evidence than that of biblical narratives in these lines, which draw freely from Hesiod’s Theogony, this passage is in fact indebted to both of these traditions. As in the Greek myth, the three sons of Uranus are caught in a struggle for power and primacy. However, the earth too has been divided between them, as in the story of Noah’s sons in Jubilees, and the violation, after the death of their father, of the promise they have made to him, may have a territorial dimension, even if in this case the author does not establish any connection with the land of Israel.393 This example from the Sybilline Oracles illustrates just how commonplace the scenario outlined in Jubilees – and to a lesser extent in the Genesis Apocryphon – was in the context of the Hellenistic world. This is also clear if we look at the arguments deployed in a territorial dispute that arose in 197–190 B.C.E. between the cities of Samos and Priene, about the Karion and the plain of Dryoussa stretching around that fort: the Priene inscription documenting this conflict (inscription No 37) makes a reference to a distribution of land that had taken place around 500 years previously, when Samos and Priene had formed a coalition with other Ionian cities to wage war on the city of Melia. Having won the war, they proceeded to distribute different parts of Melia’s territory by lot. According to the Samians, the Karion and its chōra (Dryoussa) were allot392 John Collins dates this part of Book 3 of the Sybilline Oracles to sometime between 163 and 145 B.C.E. (see J. J. Collins, “Sibylline Oracles,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha [ed. J. H. Charlesworth; New York–London–Toronto: Doubleday, 1983], 1:355). 393 These lines from the Sybilline Oracles can also bring to mind a passage from the Iliad (15.185–199), in which the reader is reminded of the way the universe was shared out between the sons of Cronus, Zeus, Poseidon and Hades: after drawing lots, Zeus obtained the heavens, Poseidon the oceans, and Hades the underworld. However, they had to share the earth and Mount Olympus.

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ted to them. Their claim is found on lines 103–104 of the inscription: τὸ Κάριον καὶ ἁ περὶ τοῦτο χώρα αὐτοῖς ἐπικλα[ρωθείη, καὶ καθ᾿ ὃν καιρ]ὸν διαιροῦντο τὰν τῶν Μελιέων χώραν …394 Although the verb ἐπικληρόω (to assign, distribute by lot) is only partly preserved, there is little argument about its reconstitution. The territorial repartition was thus certainly performed through lot casting. It was also ratified by a treaty, at least according to the Samians, who referred to the testimonies of local historians. Moreover, the borders of the allotted territory were drawn in accordance with the rivers. Later on, still according to the Samians, the Prienians had seized the fort and its territory illegally. Like the Book of Jubilees, the Priene inscription describes an initial repartition of land through lot casting which was subsequently transgressed. Although there is obviously a difference in scale between the stakes of the dispute between the Samians and the Prienians, and those of the conflict between Noah’s sons, they nevertheless followed a very similar overall pattern: 1) a territory was originally divided between several people through lot casting; 2) waterways helped to delimitate the territories to be shared out between them (in both Ionian cartography and Jubilees, rivers mark out the borders between the three major areas); 3) at a later stage, one of the protagonists violated this arrangement by invading and unduly occupying a territory meant for another. In the case of the Samians and the Prienians, their conflict was arbitrated by Rhodes, which upheld the claims of Priene. The use of lot casting to share out land is in most cases associated with mythical narratives, or with events from a very early time. These narratives of origins could be tampered with or fabricated in order to justify later conquests, or the domination of one people or city by another.395 This was for example the case with the myth known as the “Return of the Herakleidai,” different versions of which were reported by Tyrtaeus, Herodotus, Thucydides, Euripides, Diodorus, Pausanias and the Pseudo-Apollodorus. This myth apparently served to justify the settlement of Dorian communities in the Peloponnese and the domination of the Spartans: the Spartans saw themselves as a Dorian colony (apoikia)396 – i. e. “newcomers” – but claimed they were descended from the Herakleidai, who had been allocated cer394 See Ager, Interstate Arbitrations, 196–203 (No 74), esp. 199; and Curty, “L’historio­ graphie hellénistique”. 395 Thus, John Ma writes that “Other examples, mostly in the epigraphical documentation, bring out the legitimizing role of allusion to the past, to the point that πάτριος χώρα is often used for territory which was precisely contested between two states” (Antiochos III, 32–33). In the case of the conflict between Samos and Priene, the Rhodian judges eventually concluded that the Samians’ historiographic source – the Histories of Maiandrios of Milet – had been tampered with in order to give reason to the Samians; see Curty, “L’historiographie hellénistique,” 6. On the use of works of poetry or history to resolve territorial disputes, see also A. Chaniotis, Historie und Historiker in den griechischen Inschriften. Epigraphische Beiträge zur griechischen Historiographie (Heidelberger althistorische Beiträge und epigraphische Studien 4; Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 1988), 114 (there are several references in n. 237). 396 See Pindar, Isthm. 7.12–15.

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tain territories by the gods.397 According to this myth, the descendants of Heracles’ son Hyllus were deprived of the kingdom that Zeus had given to their ancestor following the intervention of Hera, who favoured Eurystheus, the king of Argos. The Herakleidai eventually defeated Eurystheus, but all their attempts to reconquer the Peloponnese were unsuccessful. The Herakleidai sought refuge among the Dorians, who helped them to regain control over the territory that was theirs by inheritance, once they had managed to interpret the oracle of Apollo foretelling their success. The conquest of the Peloponnese was achieved by three descendants of Heracles – the brothers Temenus, Cresphontes, and Aristodemus (who was killed but continued to be represented by his two sons): When they had made themselves masters of Peloponnese, they set up three altars of Paternal Zeus, and sacrificed upon them, and cast lots for the cities (καὶ ἐκληροῦντο τὰς πόλεις). So the first drawing was for Argos, the second for Lacedaemon, and the third for Messene. And they brought a pitcher of water, and resolved that each should cast in a lot. Now Temenus and the two sons of Aristodemus, Procles and Eurysthenes, threw stones. But Cresphontes, wishing to have Messene allotted to him, threw in a clod of earth. As the clod was dissolved in the water, it could not be but that the other two lots should turn up. The lot of Temenus having been drawn first, and that of the sons of Aristodemus second, Cresphontes got Messene. ([Pseudo-]Apollodorus, Library 2.8.4; trans. James G. Frazer, LCL, 289–291).398

Commenting on this story, Martin P. Nilson observes that “the myth which relates that the second of the Herakleidai, Cresphontes, through unfair dealing in the allotting of the conquered country, obtained the best piece, Messenia, for himself, while Aristodemus had to be content with Laconia, is an attempt to create a justification for the Spartan conquest of Messenia.”399 Since it was being reported that the Messenians had murdered Cresphontes and chased his sons away, the Spartans were able to justify their conquest of the Messenian territory by claiming that they were descended from the Herakleidai. The myth of the return of the Herakleidai may be compared with the Genesis–Joshua corpus on several points: a divinity (Zeus or YHWH) gives a territory 397 On Zeus’ gift of Sparta to the Herakleidai, who refound it as a Dorian city, see Tyrtaeus, frg. 1a, in C. Prato, Tyrtaeus = Tirteo: Introduzione, testo critico, testimonianze e commento (Rome: Edizioni dell’Ateneo, 1968), 23. On the myth of the Herakleidai and its political exploitation by the Spartans, see “Herakleidai” in R.E. VIII/1 (1912), col. 447–457; J. Vanschoonwinkel, L’Égée et la Méditerranée orientale à la fin du deuxième millénaire: témoignages archéologiques et sources écrites (Providence–Louvain-la-Neuve: Brown University–Département d’archéologie et d’histoire de l’art, 1991), 331–366; idem, “Des Héraclides du mythe aux Doriens de l’archéologie,” Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 73/1 (1995): 127–148; and especially I. Malkin, Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 15–45. 398  See also Pausanias, Description of Greece 2.18.7, which contains some variants. 399 Nilson, A History of Greek Religion (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1925), 238.

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to a founding hero (Heracles or Abraham), who does not take possession of it;400 later on, following an initial failed attempt, his descendants eventually conquer this territory, at a time predicted by the divinity; the conquerors then draw lots to divide the conquered territory between themselves (Temenus, Cresphontes and Aristodemus in the Greek myth; the twelve tribes descended from Jacob in the Bible).401 In both cases, the inheritance of one of the brothers (or tribes) is given to his two sons: the sons of Aristodemus; the sons of Joseph. The originality of the Book of Jubilees – and indeed the Genesis Apocryphon – is that it includes an account of lot casting prior to these events, at the time of the initial distribution of the land between Noah’s sons. A comparison of the Book of Jubilees with the myth of the return of the Herakleidai also shows that the Judean work does not so much tell a story of deception based on the subversion of the outcome of the original lot casting, as it describes the transgression of an initial oath or pact. Nevertheless, mythical narratives such as the story of the return of the Herakleidai, and the Greek practice of lot casting to divide a territory between different parties (which is attested in epigraphic sources, as well as myths) are evidence that, despite these differences, the rewriting of the division of the land between the sons of Noah in Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon took place in a Hellenistic cultural context. In particular, these narratives have a comparable political – or juridico-political – function. In Jubilees, the episode of the original division of the land between Noah’s sons has been rewritten in such a way as to reinforce the notion that Israel has a legitimate right to rule over the land of Canaan as a whole. From the perspective of the Jewish sources, the claim that Asia was part of Shem’s lot implied that the land of Canaan was originally meant for Israel.402 The text’s emphasis on an original right of ownership based on lot casting, a practice whose outcome all participants accepted under oath, served to establish the juridical legitimacy of Israel’s claims over its land. This reflects the logic of the arguments used to determine the right of ownership in the Hellenistic world, and the appearance of this motif in works like Jubilees and the Apocryphon is to be explained by the Hellenization of the Judean elites, including those who opposed the growing influence of Greek culture over Judean society and chose to write in Hebrew or Aramaic. Finally, with its innovative take on biblical traditions, Jubilees also made it possible to resolve the following exegetical and theological questions raised by the biblical texts: why is the land of Israel called “land of Canaan,” and why does Genesis seem to consider that this territory was the legitimate property of the Canaanites? 400 On this aspect of the Greek myth, see Malkin, Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean, 23. 401 Except that all the tribes do not receive their share by lot casting, as in the case of the tribes established in Transjordan. 402 This relation of cause and effect is explicitly stated in later rabbinic sources; see for example the passage from Sifra quoted in § 7.2 (infra).

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The tendency to define the relationship of Israel with its territory in juridical terms, which is attested in the Genesis Apocryphon, the Book of Jubilees, and 1 Maccabees (where the “land” is however limited to Judea, unlike in the two other works), may have preceded the Maccabean crisis. However, it is also possible that the conflict between the Judeans and the Seleucids exacerbated the former’s need to establish their right of ownership over their own land, in such a way as to use the arguments deployed by their adversaries against them – in which case the Apocryphon and Jubilees should be dated to this period. In any case, these texts constitute an internal response to this question, and show that the Judean society was relatively open to juridical, or historico-juridical, arguments emphasizing ancient rights of ownership and their hereditary mode of transmission. Although the juridical framework in which Israel casts its relationship to the land seems to be the product of an internal evolution, it was nevertheless linked to the fact that Judea was part of the Hellenistic world and that a certain number of Hellenistic ways of thinking were starting to penetrate Judean society, even in conservative circles. Some scholars will perhaps argue that it was not a departure from the biblical tradition to use the categories of territorial patrimony and its hereditary transmission to describe the relationship of Israel to its land.403 It seems to me, however, that a close reading of the texts shows that this is not the case, and that the Genesis Apocryphon and Jubilees exhibit a major paradigm shift. In the Bible, the connection between the land of Canaan and Israel only begins with Abraham’s vocation and God’s promise to give Abraham and his descendants the land of Canaan in perpetuity. There is no mention in any biblical text of Israel’s right of ownership over the land before the covenant between Abraham and God. Moreover, under the patriarchs, God’s gift of the land is not effective: neither Abraham, nor Isaac, nor Jacob take control of Canaan. Later, the Israelites have to take up arms to conquer the land, despite being the descendants of Abraham. Although the texts which describe this conquest do mention that this land was given to the ancestors of the Israelites, they do this in order to indicate that the time has come for God’s promise to be fulfilled, not in order to argue that the Israelites have a hereditary right to this land, which they could oppose to the Canaanites. Moreover, these texts emphasize the fact that the Israelites received the land from God himself. Indeed, whereas they mention the gift or promise God made to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the biblical texts do not at any point portray the conquest of Canaan as an attempt by the Israelites to reclaim their ancestral patrimony. Instead, they constantly emphasize the role of God and the fact that the conquest of the land fulfills a divine commandment. Finally, the Israelites’ ownership of the land is conditional: it depends on their fidelity to the law of God. In a biblical perspective, the gift of the land and the gift of the Torah are inseparable, and the Israelites’ owner403 Especially in light of the use of the words ‫( נחלה‬nah.alah: heritage, patrimony, possession) and ‫( אחזה‬ah.uzzah: possession, property) in some biblical texts.

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ship of the land depends on their realization of the project outlined in the Torah. However, the covenant between God and Abraham does have an unconditional dimension: although the Israelites can lose the privilege to occupy and dwell on the land (during the exile, for example), this does not strip them of their right of ownership,404 even if this right remains at the discretion of God, who ultimately remains the owner of the land, and indeed of the earth as a whole.405 The originality of both the Genesis Apocryphon and the Book of Jubilees lies in the way their versions of the story of Genesis circumvent the notion that Israel’s right to the land was based on God’s promise to Abraham. They both postulate that Israel’s (and indeed Abraham’s) right of ownership over the land goes back to the dawn of humankind (or at least, to the generation of the deluge) via Arphaxad and Shem. This right is presented as unconditional and independent from the covenant with God, even though these texts are nevertheless underpinned by a teleological perspective, according to which the land was allocated to Shem because his descendants would one day enter into a covenant with God. The version of the lot casting presented in the Apocryphon and Jubilees implies that even in the absence of a covenant between God and Abraham (or between God and Israel at Sinai), Israel would still have been the rightful owner of the land, through the law of inheritance:406 even before entering into a covenant with YHWH, Abraham was already the owner of the land!407 This conception of the relationship of Israel to the land of Canaan has serious implications, since it makes it possible to argue that the Israelites’ right of ownership over the land of Canaan is based on both a divine gift and – independently of this explicit intervention – on the casting of lots that originally took place and the patrimonial right of ownership associated with it. This double justification may be compared with the myth of the “return of 404 I refer the reader once again to M. Weinfeld, The Promise of the Land, esp. chapters 8 and 9, which include a discussion of the distinction between occupation or possession, on the one hand, and ownership, on the other. 405 This is the sacerdotal perspective on this issue, at any rate. See Lev 25:23: “The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine; with me you are but aliens and tenants.” However, Deuteronomy casts a different light on this issue. As Jan Joosten writes, “Deuteronomy is careful never to imply any special relationship between YHWH and the land” (People and Land in the Holiness Code, 175). Compared with Leviticus, Deuteronomy places a greater emphasis on Israel’s right of ownership over the land. Thus, God tells Moses to “… view the land of Canaan, which I am giving to the Israelites for a possession (ah.uzzah)” (Deut 32:49). According to Baruch Levine, the word ah.uzzah refers to a territory that was legally purchased, however paradoxical this may seem, in the case of the land of Canaan (B. A. Levine, “On the Semantics of Land Tenure in Biblical Literature: The Term ’ah.uzzâh,” in The Tablet and the Scroll [ed. W. W. Hallo, Bethesda: CDL Press, 1993], 134–139). In my opinion, this shows that in Deuteronomy, the land is conceived of as the legal property of Israel. Yet, the framework of the covenant between Israel and God remains. 406 We find a similar view in Sifra, where God gives Israel a territory that already belongs to the latter. See § 7.2 (infra). 407 Cf. García Martínez, “Geography as Theology,” 47.

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the Herakleidai”: as Irad Malkin emphasizes, the justification for the return of the Herakleidai is based, on the one hand, on Zeus’ gift of Sparta to the Herakleidai, and, on the other, on a right of ownership through inheritance going back to Heracles, who was given Lacedemonia by its legitimate king after Heracles returned him to his throne.408 The double justification implied in Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon is thus not without parallels. Some will certainly argue that in Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon, the casting of lots is in fact a manifestation of God’s divine providence. Thus, Esther Eshel writes: Another feature shared by Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon is the involvement of a divine force in the parcellation of the world. According to Jubilees, Noah divided the world in “a proper way,” based on a book and with the supervision of an angel of the presence (8:10–11). The Genesis Apocryphon documents divine division earlier in the story, in Noah’s dream vision, where a divine entity announces and interprets the division of the world. Like Jubilees, the Genesis Apocryphon makes reference to a written source, probably in heaven, in the angel’s statement: “So it is written concerning you” (15:20). There is, however, a distinction between the two with regard to the nature of the direct divine involvement in the divisionary process. The biblical account in Genesis 10 cites no divine involvement in the division of the world; there is, however, according to Jubilees, direct angelic involvement: “… they divided the earth into three parts … while one of us who were sent was staying with them” (8:10). For its part, the Genesis Apocryphon attributes no immediate role to angels in the division itself; rather, general guidelines to the division appear in the dream vision and its interpretation. (Eshel, “The Imago Mundi,” 126–127)

This reading demands to be nuanced. First of all, in both the Apocryphon and Jubilees – as indeed in Gen 10 – the casting of lots is supervised by Noah, as opposed to God. It is true that, in the Apocryphon, the future is revealed to Noah in a dream vision, and that this dream may be understood as a metaphorical indication that some of the descendants of Japhet and Ham will one day encroach over the territory of Shem. However, when this dream – which may allude to “lots” or “portions” (col. XIV, line 22, according to Daniel Machiela’s deciphering)409 – is interpreted to Noah (probably by an angel), no mention is made of territories comparable to what we find in columns XVI and XVII, and the lacunae in column XIV do not allow such a reconstitution. Noah’s vision and its interpretation (col. XIII to XV) are in fact of a historical rather than geographical nature: they bear on the actions of successive generations of men. As such, they do not seem to contain any divine instructions on the division of the land. Later, this division is done by lot casting (based on the phrase ‫נפק עדבא‬, “the lot came out,” in XVI, 14). 408 Malkin, Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean, 33–34. 409 The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon, 61. This text is nevertheless very difficult to read and its deciphering is uncertain.

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It is of course possible to surmise that the outcome of the lot casting reflects the will of God, as in the Book of Acts (1:24–26) in the New Testament. However, in Acts, the disciples explicitly pray that divine providence might guide them as they draw their lots: there is no such prayer to be found in either the Apocryphon or Jubilees. Similarly, when the land is divided between the tribes through lot casting in the Book of Joshua, this is the result of an explicit divine commandment, and the text mentions on several occasions that the lots were drawn in the presence of YHWH.410 In the case of Jubilees, Esther Eshel rightly observes that an angel is present during the lot casting (8:10). However, the angel watches quietly, without giving any instructions to those involved or intervening in any way into the proceedings. It is as though he was merely there as an observer, or a witness – or at the most, a supervisor, following the failure of the previous attempt to divide the land. Indeed, when Peleg (from palag, “to divide”) is mentioned among the descendants of Shem (Gen 11:10–16), the author writes: 8:8 … he named him Peleg because at the time when he was born Noah’s children began to divide the earth for themselves. For this reason he named him Peleg. 8:9 They divided it in a bad way among themselves and told Noah. 8:10 At the beginning of the thirty-third jubilee [1569–1617] they divided the earth into three parts – for Shem, Ham, and Japheth – each in his own inheritance. (This happened) in the first year of the first week [1569] while one of us who were sent was staying with them. 8:11 When he (Noah) summoned his children, they came to him – they and their children. He divided the earth into the lots which his three sons would occupy. They reached out their hands and took the book411 from the bosom of their father Noah. (trans. J. C. VanderKam, The Book of Jubilees, 51–52)

The text condemns an initial attempt by Noah’s sons to divide the land, apparently without their father’s consent. This is followed with a new division of the land through lot casting, this time under the supervision of the patriarch. In other words, this narrative conjures a very human picture of the process of dividing up the land, initially performed on the initiative of the descendants of Noah. The silence of the angel, who stands at a remove, is open to a range of interpretations, from reprobation to a discreet manifestation of divine providence. Although this last interpretation seems the most likely, it is excessive to speak of the angel’s “supervision” of the division of the land and of “the involvement of a divine force in the parcellation of the world,” as Esther Eshel argues. In order to avoid any misunderstanding, I must make it clear that it is absolutely obvious to me that for the author of Jubilees (and indeed probably also the author of the Apocryphon, although this is less clear) the partitioning of the land through lot casting does reflect a divine providential design. It is not by chance if 410 See Num 36:2; Josh 14:2; 18:6.8.10; 19:51. 411  Or: a writing.

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Shem inherits a land with a central location and temperate climate, which also happens to be where the three places harbouring the divine Presence are located. In fact, Noah interprets this division of the land as the fulfilment of the prophecy he pronounced in Gen 9:27, in the context of the malediction of Canaan, a p ­ rophecy which he had not been able to make any sense of up until then, and which in Jubilees is formulated as such: “May the Lord, the God of Shem, be blessed, and may the Lord live in the places where Shem resides” (8:18).412 And yet, the division of the land through lot casting by the sons of Noah is nevertheless described as a human enterprise, which does not directly or explicitly involve the intervention of God. Above all, the rewriting of this scene in the Apocryphon and Jubilees established the unconditional right of ownership of the Israelites over their land – i. e. a right which predated the covenant with Abraham, and was as a result theoretically not dependent on the sons of Shem’s obedience to their covenant with God. This narrative also made it possible for the Judeans to avoid basing their ownership of the land on an episode of conquest: according to Greek law, there was in fact no justification for their conquest of the land of Canaan, since the Canaanites had not attacked Israel first. By suggesting that Israel had an original right of ownership over its land dating back to the dawn of humankind, this alternative narrative made it clear – and certainly clearer than in the Pentateuch or the Hexateuch – that the conquest of the land under Joshua in fact marked the “return” of Israel to its ancestral territory; indeed, the arrival of Abraham on the land also represented a “return.” In other words, what we are seeing here is the integration of the logic of a Greek argument within a Jewish narrative inspired from the Bible.413 It is in fact possible that the syngeneia linking Israel to Sparta, according to both 1 and 2 Maccabees, can be explained in part by the Judeans’ perception of the similitudes between their founding narratives: a far cry from the Athenian ideal of autochtony, both the Judean and the Spartan narratives based their claims to their territory on a conquest which was legitimated by an ancestral right of ownership and a divine gift.

7.2 The posterity of this historico-juridical argument in Jewish thought The notion that Israel has a right of ownership over the land of Canaan dating back to the original division of the land between the sons of Noah constitutes a magnificent example of the reception and long term influence of a Hellenistic mode of thought in the Jewish tradition, as preserved in Hebrew and Aramaic texts: this

412  Trans. VanderKam, ibid., 53. 413 Hans (Yohanan) Lewy already reached the same conclusion in his seminal article entitled “Ein Rechtsstreit um Boden Palästinas im Altertum.”

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notion endures in the rabbinic, and, later, medieval and modern, literature.414 One of the most ancient attestations of this phenomenon is found in the Sifra, a mi­drash halakhah on Leviticus (in connection with Lev 20:22 and 24):415 So that the land to which I bring you to settle in may not vomit you out (Lev 20:22). [I only bring you there] so that you may possess it (‫)לירש‬. Not like the Canaanites, who were the keepers of the place (‫ )שומרי מקום‬until you came. … I will give it to you to possess (‫( )לרשת‬Lev 20:24). In the future I shall give you [their land] as an eternal possession (‫)ירושת עולם‬. And if you say: “Can you only give us what belongs to others?” [I shall answer:] “Is it not yours? The land is no other than the portion (‫ )חלק‬of Shem, and you are the children of Shem, whereas they [the Canaanites] are only the children of Ham, and what is their benefit [lit.: their good] in the land, except looking after it until you come?” (Sifra, Qedoshim, perek 11 [5:2]; my trans. based on MS Vaticanus 66; cf. ed. Weiss, 93 b–c) s

These lines from the Sifra show that some commentators were highly aware of the issues raised by the biblical texts on God’s gift of the land of Canaan to Israel. One issue, which I have already mentioned, bears on the fact that this territory bore the name of “Canaan” in the biblical texts themselves.416 Another issue arises from the fact that Gen 10 seems to suggest that Canaan was legitimately settled on its land – at least, the biblical narrative does not allude to any problems with the original distribution of the land. Finally, a third issue arises from the observation that the Canaanites are not said to have committed any offense against the Israelites, unlike the Egyptians or the Amalekites, for example (with the exception of the king of Arad in Num 21). In the Sifra, God anticipates the surprise that the Israelites might express at being given a land that already belongs to another people. The midrash begins by supposing that the Canaanites may have had a right of ownership over their land, in which case God’s gift of the land to Israel would raise a juridical, or indeed ethico-juridical, problem, before laying out God’s answer to Israel in strictly juridical terms. Speaking like a jurist, God explains that Israel is the legitimate owner of the land because of the law of inheritance, and that it there414 See in particular V. Aptowitzer, “Les premiers possesseurs de Canaan, légendes apologétiques et exégétiques,” REJ 82 (1926): 274–286. The identification of Melchizedek with Shem, which makes the latter the king of Salem/Jerusalem, is also part of this tradition (see for example Genesis Rabbah 26:3; 44:7; 56:10). 415 Lev 20:22: “You shall keep all my statutes and all my ordinances, and observe them, so that the land to which I bring you to settle in may not vomit you out. … 24 But I have said to you: You shall inherit their land, and I will give it to you to possess, a land flowing with milk and honey. I am the Lord your God; I have separated you from the peoples”. 416 On this point, see the question that the Mekhilta deRabbi Ishmael, Pisha 18 (ed. Horovitz-Rabin, 69–70) asks in connection with Exod 13:11: “Canaan merited that the land should be called by his name. But what did Canaan do (to deserve this honour)?”

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fore has the right to settle there. As for the presence of the Canaanites on the land, it is presented not so much as a criminal transgression, than as the consequence of the indulgence or foresight of God, who allowed them to be the keepers of the land until the arrival of the Israelites. This picture of the Canaanites as the “keepers of the land,” which innovates significantly on the accounts of the Canaanites found in earlier (biblical and non-biblical) sources, is not without recalling the myth of the “return of the Herakleidai.” A similar idea was put forward on several occasions throughout the history of Spartan colonization.417 In the exchange between God and Israel that is described in the Sifra, the divinity seems to hide behind a recognized patrimonial right that had originally been articulated by humans and that would have been considered valid by the enemies of Israel and those who did not recognize the authority of Israel’s God. Indeed, this text refers the reader once again to the apportioning of the land between Noah’s descendants, a scenario which does not explicitly involve the intervention of God. Other rabbinic texts make a very different case, based on the theological – rather than juridical – argument that, as the creator of the world, God has the right to decide who shall have the land.418 However, there is no such theological argument to be found in these lines from the Sifra: they invoke a juridical argument involv417 According to Diodorus (4.33.5), the land was given to Herakles, but the descendants of Tyndareus were its keepers until the return of his descendants, the Herakleidai; see Malkin, Myth and Territory, 23. In the Bible, we only find the idea that the Israelites take possession of a land that was already cultivated and built up as a result of divine providence (Josh 24:13). Other rabbinic sources interpret the time the Canaanites spent on the land as the recompense they received for their rare good deeds towards Abraham and other patriarchs; see for example Sifra, Ahare mot, parashah 8:1, on Lev 18:3 (ed. Weiss, 85 c). 418 See in particular Sifre Deuteronomy on Deut 32:8 MT (“When the Most High apportioned the nations, when he divided humankind, he fixed the boundaries of the peoples according to the number of the sons of Israel”): “When God gave the land to the people so they might divide it between themselves, he set out the boundaries for each people in order to avoid them intermixing. He sent the descendants of Gomer to Gomer, of Magog to Magog, of Madai to Madai, and of Javan to Javan, and those of Tubal to Tubal; he determined the boundaries of the peoples so that they would not enter into the land of Israel, (as it is said:) ‘He fixed the boundaries of the peoples’” (Sifre Deuteronomy, § 311; ed. Finkelstein, 352; my translation). Unlike in Jubilees, God is explicitly involved in this process. I also refer the reader to Genesis Rabbah 1:2 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, 4–5), which explains that the Torah begins with the account of the creation of the world, because it was necessary to thwart the nations’ possible accusation that Israel had misappropriated the land of Canaan. Should this accusation be levelled at Israel, its answer is that “The world and what is in it belong to the Holy One Blessed be He. When He wanted to give it to you He did so, and when He wanted to take it back from you and give it to us He did so.” This is followed by a quotation from Ps 111:6. Rashi uses the same line of argument in his own commentary of Gen 1:1 (his source is the midrash Tanhuma). On these traditions, see W. Bacher, “The Supposed Inscription upon ‘Joshua the Robber,’ Illustrated from Jewish Sour­ ces,” JQR 3 (1891): 354–355; Aptowitzer, “Les premiers possesseurs de Canaan,” 281–283; Lewy, “Ein Rechtsstreit um Boden Palästinas im Altertum;” and, more recently, Kister, “The Fate of the Canaanites and the Despoliation of the Egyptians”.

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ing an episode of human history, rather than divine intervention, and the division of the land that took place between men: the Israelites are the legitimate owners of Canaan through their ancestor Shem. The legitimacy of Israel’s ownership of the land of Canaan is even discussed in Babylonian rabbinic sources. In particular, the legitimacy of the military conquest of new territories is discussed in an interesting passage of Hullin (60b), which raises issues that bring to mind the type of questions found in Hellenistic sources, even if their answers differ: It is written: The five lords of the Philistines: the Gazite and the Ashdodite, the Ashke­ lonite, the Gittite and the Ekronite; also the Avvim (Josh 13:3).419 The verse says five but enumerates six! – R. Jonathan said: Their overlords were five in number. R. Hisda said to R. Tahlifa b. Abina, “Write down the word for ‘overlord’ in your homiletic notebook and explain it so.”420 This interpretation differs from Rab’s view, for Rab had declared that the Avvim originally came from Teman. There is also a baraitha in support of this, viz., the Avvim originally came from Teman, and were named Avvim (‫ )עוים‬because they laid waste [‫עיותו‬, ‘ivvetu] their home. Another interpretation: They were named Avvim because they longed for [‫איוו‬, ivvu] many gods. A further interpretation: They were named Avvim because whosoever looked at them was seized with trembling [‫עוית‬, ‘avvit]. R. Joseph said: Every one of them had sixteen rows of teeth. R. Simeon b. Lakish said: There are many verses which to all appearances ought to be burnt421 but are really essential elements in the Torah. [E.g.] It is written: And the Avvim that dwelt in villages as far as Gaza (Deut 2:23). In what way does this concern us? Inasmuch as Abimelech [who was king of the Philistines according to Gen 26:1, 8] adjured Abraham saying: “You will not deal falsely with me, nor with my son, nor with my son’s son,” the Holy One, blessed be He, said: “Let the Kaphtorim come and take away the land from the Avvim, who are Philistines, and then Israel may come and take it away from the Kaphtorim.” Similarly you must explain the verse: For Hesh­bon was the city of Sihon the King of the Amorites, who had fought against the former King of Moab (Num 21:26). In what way does this concern us? Inasmuch as the Holy One, blessed be He, had commanded Israel: Be not at enmity with Moab (Deut 2:9), He therefore said: “Let Sihon come and take away the land from Moab and then Israel may come and take it from Sihon.” This, indeed, explains the saying of R. Papa, “Ammon and Moab were rendered clean [unto Israel] through Sihon.” (Hullin, 60b; trans. I. Epstein, Soncino ed., 332–333)

419 Josh 13:3: “From the Shihor, which is east of Egypt, northwards to the boundary of Ekron, it is reckoned as Canaanite; there are five rulers of the Philistines, those of Gaza, Ashdod, Ashkelon, Gath, and Ekron, and those of the Avvim” (NRSV). 420 Meaning: the Avvites are indeed Philistines, even if they had no leader called “overlord”. 421 Some uncensored manuscripts add “as in the books of the Minim”.

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After discussing the identity of the Avvim, whose relationship with the Philistines is unclear, the Talmudic text reports the remark of R. Simeon b. Lakish, a third-century Palestinian Amora, that some of the verses in the Torah – about peoples that have since disappeared or past conflicts that took place between various peoples – do not seem to have any direct connection with Israel. This leads him to ask why these facts are mentioned in the Torah (which does not pretend to be a universal history, unlike the work of Diodorus, for example). In answer to this question, R. Simeon ben Laqish suggests that these verses are in fact highly significant, because they throw light on the circumstances which led Israel to settle on the land. Thus, the words “And the Avvim that dwelt in villages as far as Gaza” (Deut 2:23) teach us that the Avvim lived in the Philistine pentapolis, which means that they were Philistines (in contrast, this is ambiguous in Josh 13:3). Now Abraham had sworn to king Abimelech of the Philistines, who dwelt in Gerar (according to Gen 26:1.8) that he would not attack him or his descendants (Gen 21:23). This oath – which also applied to Abraham’s descendants – meant that Israel could not dislodge the Philistines who were established on the coast. This is why God, who wanted to give the land to Israel but felt compelled to respect Abraham’s oath (which, by the way, suggests an interesting conception of the capacity of humans to limit God’s free will) was forced to use a stratagem. He incited the Caphtorim to conquer the territory of the Avvim.422 This argument is based on the rest of Deut 2:23, which says that “As for the Avvim, who had lived in settlements in the vicinity of Gaza, the Caphtorim, who came from Caphtor, destroyed them and settled in their place.” The talmudic text seems to imply that this conquest did not make the Caphtorim into the legitimate owners of the territory, despite their eradication of the Avvim.423 On the face of it, these lines from Hullin seem to condemn the right of ownership which is based on conquest, at least when this conquest is detrimental to the legitimate owners of a territory. The Caphtorim having been portrayed as thieves, Israel can deprive the Caphtorim of their ill-acquired land, and be presented as an instrument of divine justice by the same token. The same 422 It is possible to object to R. Simeon ben Laqish that, according to some biblical texts (such as Jer 47:4), the Caphtorim were also Philistines, and that this meant that Abraham’s promise also applied to them. However, Gen 10:14 (// 1 Chr 1:12) does support R. Simeon’s interpretation, since the line “Pathrusim, Casluhim, and Caphtorim, from which the Philistines come,” attributes a distinct origin to the Caphtorim. 423 Conversely, in the Greek world, the total removal of a territory’s original population was a way for the victor to acquire a right of ownership over it. See J.-M. Bertrand, “Territoire donné, territoire attribué,” 134: “Seule la disparition de tout habitant d’une cité détruite, exilée, errante, mais pas ‘ohne territorium’ peut permettre que s’exerce sans contestation le droit de conquête : la reconnaissance attristée par la communauté des hellènes du droit du nouveau possesseur n’est alors rien d’autre que la constatation de la déshérence et de la prise de possession par un nouveau groupe humain d’une res nullius (ce n’est pas tant l’humour noir qui fait dire à Isocrate qu’Athènes a pris possession de cités désertes alors qu’elle en avait expulsé les habitants, c’est le désir d’être irréprochable au plan du droit international)”.

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logic is at work in the case of Moab (and Ammon), whose territory Israel had been forbidden to conquer by God himself (Deut 2:9 and 19): God devises a ploy inciting Sihon to invade that territory, which then makes it both possible and legitimate for Israel to dispossess him of his land (this example comes from Deut 2:24, immediately after the verse regarding the Avvim). The perspective of the Talmud diverges from that of the Greek sources, since it seems that it legitimates the territorial dispossession of a people if this people was not the original owner of the territory (whereas in the Hellenistic sources, victory against an illegitimate owner did not give the victor the right to claim ownership over the disputed territory). However, the talmudic text fails to envisage the possibility that the latest people to claim victory over the land (Israel) might one day be dispossessed of it in their turn … This may be because the fact that the Caphtorim are guilty of dispossessing the Avvim of their land, means that Israel’s conquest of the land is a form of retribution for the crime committed by the Caphtorim. In this perspective, the Israelites would not have been susceptible of being punished in their turn for having dispossessed the Caphtorim. In reality, however, this reconstruction seems rather shaky in light of other insights provided in the biblical texts. According to Josh 13:3, the area occupied by the Philistines was originally a Canaanite settlement; the Philistines – including the Avvim – were therefore themselves guilty of dispossessing the Canaanites. Similarly, we are told in Deut 2:10–12 and 20–22 that the sons of Esau, Moab and Ammon all settled on their respective territories after getting rid of their previous inhabitants. In other words, they were not the original owners of their territories either. Instead, God gave them those territories, according to the Deuteronomic tradition. In other words, an examination of the biblical texts underlying this quotation from the Talmud leads us to the conclusion that conquest could not found a right of ownership over a territory unless it was willed by God.424 The lesson of Deut 2:9– 22 is that God can give land to whomever he chooses and that no one can stand in his way. The text of Hullin also gives a theocentric answer to the question of what provides a legitimate basis for the right of ownership over a piece of land. In fact, this text can be set in parallel with Genesis Rabbah 1:2, in which Deut 2:23 is also quoted.425 Genesis Rabbah envisages the possibility that the nations may accuse Israel of being thieves guilty of dispossessing the Canaanites of their ancestral land. The midrash provides a first answer to this accusation, when it argues that the nations themselves dispossessed other peoples by conquering the territories which they now occupy – and, as in b. Hullin, the text then quotes the verse regard424 Angelos Chaniotis explains that, in the Greek world, conquest could be a legitimate basis for the right of ownership over a territory in light of the fact that “success in a violent activity (war, piracy, raid) cannot be achieved without the support of the gods and may be viewed as the punishment of the defeated party” (“Justifying Territorial Claims,” 196). 425 See n. 418 (supra).

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ing the Avvim and the Caphtorim.426 However, this first answer merely points out that the nations are hypocritical and are as such not in a position to lecture Israel. This preamble is followed by the real answer to this accusation: the midrash founds Israel’s right of ownership over the land of Canaan on God’s free will: God can give the land to whomever he chooses. This theological argument is all the more interesting that elsewhere in Genesis Rabbah, we find a typically Hellenistic account of a territorial dispute between the dispossessed Canaanites and the Israelites (represented by a certain Gebiah bar Qosem, who is called Gebiah ben Psisa in the other versions of this story).427 The claims they lay to their respective right of ownership over the land are arbitrated by none other than Alexander the Great himself: The Canaanites said:428 “It is on the basis of their Torah that we learn [the facts] and that we come [to make a plea] against them. It is everywhere written, ‘The land of Canaan’; then let them return us our country.” [Gebiah bar Qosem] said to him: “Your Majesty! Cannot a man do as he pleases with his slave?” “Yes,” replied (the king). “Here is what is written: A slave of slaves shall he [Canaan] be unto his brethren (Gen 9:25). Hence they are now our slaves.”429 Thereupon they fled and disappeared in shame. (Genesis Rabbah 61:7; my translation, based on the edition of Theodor and Albeck, 667)430

As in cases of arbitration between the cities of the Hellenistic world, the mi­drash imagines that the two parties must each present “historiographical” sources going back to a very distant past, in order to convince the judge of the legitimacy of their claims. The Canaanites attempt to use Jewish sources against the Jews. Starting from the observation that, in the Bible, the land of Israel is referred to as the “land of Canaan,” they argue that the founding narratives of the Jews themselves 426 Genesis Rabbah 1:2: “… So that the nations of the world may not provoke Israel by saying to them: ‘Are you not a nation of robbers?’ [But] Israel can retort: ‘And you, do you not hold in your hands a stolen [land], as it is written: the Caphtorim, who came from Caphtor, destroyed them … (Deut 2:23)” (my translation, based on the edition of Theodor and Albeck, 4–5). 427 The story also describes the Ishmaelites and the Egyptians suing, and rising against, Israel. See Kister, “The Fate of the Canaanites and the Despoliation of the Egyptians”. 428 The parallel version found in the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 91a, reads: “When the Africans [in other words, the Canaanites who had settled in Africa] came to make a plea against Israel ….” On the tradition of the African Canaanites, see K. Berthelot, “The Canaanites who ‘trusted in God’: an original interpretation of the fate of the Canaanites in rabbinic literature,” JJS 62/2 (2011): 233–261, and Kister, “The Fate of the Canaanites and the Despoliation of the Egyptians.” The story of the arbitration by Alexander the great of the conflict between the Canaanites and the Israelites is also found in the scholion of Megillat Ta‘anit, on 25 Sivan; see Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit: Versions, Interpretation, History, with a Critical Edition, 70–74 (Heb.). MS P (Parma) of Megillat Ta‘anit also uses the word “Africans” instead of “Canaanites”. 429 MS Vaticanus 30: “Hence the land is ours. And they are slaves for my lord the king”. 430 On Gen 25:6, “But to the sons of his concubines Abraham gave gifts, while he was still living, and he sent them away from his son Isaac, eastwards to the east country”.

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show that the Canaanites have a right of ownership over their land.431 The Jewish emissary does not counter this powerful argument with the invocation of a divine right (claiming that the land was God’s gift to Israel) or of a right of ownership based on conquest. Instead, he recalls the story of the malediction of Canaan and the status of slaves this conferred onto the Canaanites, before arguing – with a heavy dose of irony – that since, on a juridical level, anything owned by a slave automatically becomes the property of his master, the land of Canaan de facto belongs to Israel, since the Israelites are the masters of the Canaanites. In other words, the author counters the Canaanites’ biblical argument with a juridical argument based on a biblical text. Interestingly, Gebiah bar Qosem does not reject the claims of the Canaanites’ right of ownership over their land: on the contrary, his argument is based on the fact that he recognizes the Canaanites’ connection with the land.432 However, he argues that their status as slaves made their right of ownership inoperative. For Hans Lewy, the Canaanites (or Africans) develop a historical and profane argument in Genesis Rabbah 61:7 (// b. Sanh. 91a), while Gebiah bar Qosem, who recalls the curse that Noah cast on Canaan, bases his case on an ethical and religious point.433 It seems to me that Lewy underestimates the properly juridical dimension of the arguments brought forward by both parties, even if Gebiah’s response is to perform something of an about-turn, by showing that when the enemies of the Jews try to use the Torah against them, this invariably backfires on them. More­ over, Lewy observes that this type of tradition must be associated with a historical context challenging the claims of the Judeans over their land. According to him, Jubilees provides a juridical answer to those who contested the Jews’ right over their land. In conclusion, he argues that this work should be read in the context of the Hasmonean conquests and the hostility they generated in Greek and Phoenician cities. However, I think, after Cana Werman and Menahem Kister, that Jubilees should not be seen primarily as an apologetic work, but as an exegetical work seeking to solve problems arising from the biblical texts themselves. This being 431 Hans (Yohanan) Lewy mentions a similar case, involving a dispute between the Phoenicians and the Numidians in Carthage, in which the Numidians used arguments found in the Phoenician texts against their Phoenician adversaries (“Ein Rechtsstreit um Boden Palästinas im Altertum,” 179–180; see Livy 34.62). 432 He may of course be merely making an ironic point for strategic purposes. In any case, this tradition – which is attested in Genesis Rabbah, b. Sanhedrin and the scholion of Megillat Ta‘anit – diverges from the commentaries which attribute to Israel an ancestral right of ownership over the land via Shem. The Hellenistic background of this tradition is even clearer, if only through its framing of the dispute (the arbitration of Alexander, the arguments developed, etc.). Ory Amitay argues that this reflects the situation of Judea at the time of Pompey’s conquest of Jerusalem; however, this interpretation is open to debate (“The Story of Gviha Ben-Psisa and Alexander the Great,” JSPs 16, [2006], 61–74). 433 Lewy, “Ein Rechtsstreit um Boden Palästinas im Altertum,” 88–89: “es stehen sich die profangeschichtliche und die ethisch-religiöse Beurteilung gegenüber” (p. 89).

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said, I would place more emphasis than Werman and Kister do on the cultural and historical contexts framing these answers to exegetical problems. Hans Lewy is right to observe that a certain number of Jewish sources from the Hellenistic and Roman periods depart from the biblical tradition, which justifies the fate of the Canaanites with moral and theological arguments (such as: the Canaanites lost the land as punishment for their abomination; it was God who took their land from them; etc.). There is no mention in the biblical texts of an unconditional “right of ownership” over the land, even in Deuteronomy. Lewy considers that the Jews of the Hellenistic and Roman periods were wrong to try to legitimate their position in strictly historical and juridical terms, as their real or literary adversaries did, instead of relying on such absolutes as ethical and religious arguments.434 Indeed, in Genesis Rabbah, it is the enemies of the Jews who decide to resort to Alexander’s arbitration and develop a juridical argumentation. The midrash thus exhibits the Hellenistic origins of this type of discourse. However, to claim, as Lewy does, that the Jews of that period were “wrong” to take on their adversaries on their own ground, is probably to exaggerate the historical veracity of the account in these sources of the exchanges that were taking place between Jews and non-Jews on the question of the land. It is dangerous to reconstruct the diplomatic or informal exchanges that actually took place during the Hasmonean period on the basis of sources such as Jubilees or rabbinic texts. Although these sources may have been written in a context when the Judeans and their neighbours were at war with each other, they nevertheless remain the product of an internal development, based on both the traditions of the Bible and the arguments invoked in the Hellenistic world at the time.435 However, these sources show that the Judeans participated in discourses and modes of thought that were characteristic of the Hellenistic world. This long digression involving texts which in most cases date from a later period than 1 Maccabees illuminates the posterity of the juridical, or historico-juridical, conception of Israel’s relationship to the land – a conception which had its origins in the second century B.C.E. Basing Israel’s right of ownership over the land on the division of the earth between the descendants of Noah, rather than on the notion that God gave the land to Abraham and his descendants – even if there is no real opposition between the two arguments –, this juridical emphasis is easy to understand in the cultural context of the Hellenistic world. It is documented in texts such as the Genesis Apocryphon and the Book of Jubilees, in which the land of Canaan is said to have been part of Shem’s – and therefore Israel’s – lot; and, later on, in the rabbinic literature, which seems indebted to the tradition of Jubi434 Ibid., 173. 435 As Lewy rightly proposed: “Aus diesen Überlegungen heraus […] wage ich die Vermutung, dass der ganze Bodenstreit eine Übertragung hellenistischer Rechtsvorstellungen auf die biblische Urkunde darstellt, der Angriff also von der politisch und kulturell führenden Schicht der hellenisierten Phönicier ausging und von hellenisierten Juden pariert wurde” (ibid., 173–174).

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lees, even if rabbinic texts were also influenced by other discourses and developed others types of arguments. Based on this observation, it should hardly come as a surprise that Simon should invoke Hellenistic juridical arguments in his reply to Antiochus VII in 1 Maccabees 15. If works articulating a utopian territorial perspective and dating from roughly the same period as 1 Maccabees were able to integrate a Hellenistic approach to territorial conflicts, it seems all the less surprising that this type of approach and argument should also be found in a work like 1 Maccabees, which refers to actual diplomatic exchanges between the Judeans and the Seleucids, however biased the perspective reflected in this book may be. The ancestral patrimony that Simon alludes to is most likely to be Judea, and although he invokes no mythical or historical narratives in support of the Judean position, the historical and juridical character of his arguments is striking, and reflects an evolution also attested in Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon. I hope that this first part of the book will have conclusively shown that it is misguided to read 1 Maccabees in light of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land, and that this approach has unfortunately led commentators to overinterpret the only passage which seems to corroborate this reading, i. e. 1 Macc 15:33–35. In order to challenge this dominant interpretation, I have tried to show that this book by a Hasmonean court historian should be examined in the wider political and cultural context of the Hellenistic world, and that the arguments invoked in 1 Maccabees 15:33–35 illustrate the fact that the Hasmonean dynasty was well integrated within this world. The author of 1 Maccabees was of course also genuinely influenced by several biblical traditions, and this in fact may reflect the image that the Hasmoneans wished to project to their compatriots, both inside and outside of Judea. However, the models provided in Deuteronomy and Joshua for the war against the nations of Canaan do not play a significant role in 1 Maccabees. Conversely, the model of the great kings of Israel (Saul, David, etc.) does have an important role to play in the book. Yet, the key function of these biblical models was the political legitimation of the Hasmonean dynasty, not the justification of a programme of reconquest based on the biblical descriptions of the borders of the promised land.

Part II The Era of the Conquests: Rise and Fall of the Hasmonean State

The era of the conquests properly speaking began under the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus, and reached its apogee under Alexander Jannaeus, who bequeathed his wife Salome Alexandra, and his sons Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, a kingdom stretching from Gaza in the south west, to Golan in the north east. Herod the Great alone ruled over a territory as large, or larger: however, Herod was not an independent sovereign, but a vassal and client king of Rome. Thus, Augustus gave Trachonitis, Auranitis, and Batanea to Herod in 23 B.C.E., in gratitude for his loyalty, and named him epitropos (procurator) of Coele-Syria. From an i­ deological point of view, the Herodian kingdom was therefore not as great as that of the Hasmoneans, who incarnated the ideal of an independent kingdom in the ancestral land of Judea.1 However, the nature of the political (or politico-­religious) objectives of John Hyrcanus and his descendants needs to be clarified: did they dream of reconquering the promised land and getting rid of its “idolatrous” residents? Did they seek to recreate the kingdom of David and Solomon? Or did they attempt to enlarge the Judean territory for a range of other reasons, including demographic ones? To what extent were they motivated by personal gain and the desire to increase their hold on power? In this part of the book, I begin by examining the nature and reliability of Josephus’ account of this period, which constitutes our main source on this era, but has often been said to do no more than uncritically reproduce the views of anti-Hasmonean authors. Then I focus on the different stages, the nature, and the motivations of the Hasmonean expansion from John Hyrcanus to Aristobulus II. This leads me to analyse the controversial issue of the Hasmoneans’ “forced conversions” of the Idumeans, the Itureans, and the population of some of the other localities they conquered. Finally, I ponder the implications of the decision by Judean leaders to hire mercenaries.

1 The Hasmoneans only achieved a relative degree of independence from the Seleucids, as suggest the wars that Alexander Jannaeus still had to wage. Nevertheless, the sources suggest that he no longer paid the tribute, and that the territory of the Judean ethnos increased in size under his rule.

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1. The inescapable Flavius Josephus: was his perspective anti-Hasmonean? Were it not for Josephus, we would have scant knowledge of the history of the Hasmonean dynasty from John Hyrcanus onwards. However, both the brief overview of this period that Josephus provides in the Judean War and the more extensive account he gives of it in Antiquities, should be taken with a grain of salt. According to a very ancient historiographical tradition, Josephus’ work merely presents us with a clumsy and rather careless compilation of contradictory sources.2 Indeed, in the case of the Hasmonean period, he is often said to have used Hellenistic sources hostile to the Hasmoneans. Thus, commenting on Josephus’ account of Alexander Jannaeus and of the quarrels between Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II, Menahem Stern writes that “Josephus’ statements are strongly coloured by the hostile version of Nicolaus of Damascus.”3 In a recent monograph on the Hasmoneans, Eyal 2 This was for example the opinion of Benedictus Niese in the 19th century, although he eventually revised this assessment enough to acknowledge some of Josephus’ qualities as an author and historian (compare Niese, “Bemerkungen über die Urkunden bei Josephus Archaeol. B. XIII. XIV. XVI,“ Hermes 11 [1876]: 466–468, and Niese, „Der jüdische Historiker Flavius Josephus,“ Historische Zeitschrift 76 [1896]: 218–220). Richard Laqueur’s important work (Der jüdische Historiker Flavius Josephus: Ein biographischer Versuch auf neuer quellenkritischer Grund­ lage [Giessen: Münchowsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1920] also contributed to the perception that Josephus should be considered as a genuine author, despite Laqueur’s problematic contention that Book 14 of the Antiquities paints a systematically negative picture of Herod. As Daniel R. Schwartz emphasizes, “[Laqueur’s] call to interpret Josephus in Antiquities as a writer motivated by his own values and ideals, not a mere creature of his sources, basically swept the field” (“Josephus on Hyrcanus II,” in Josephus and the History of the Greco-Roman Period [ed. F. Parente; Leiden: Brill, 1994], 210–232; the quotation is on p. 213). See also D. R. Schwartz, Studies in the Jewish Background of Christianity, 262–264. More recently, however, Bezalel Bar-Kochva, treading in the footsteps of Gustav Hölscher (Die Quellen des Josephus: Für die Zeit vom Exil bis zum jüdischen Kriege [Stuttgart: Teubner, 1904]), casts Josephus in a very harsh light: “Omission of names of sources and clumsy conflation of their accounts into one story is quite typical of Josephus. A well-known example is his continuous narrative on the Hasmonean state (book 13 of Jewish Antiquities), where he draws upon Nicolaus of Damascus and Strabo (crediting them only occasionally), sometimes with the version of one appearing after the other’s, and sometimes with the two versions ineptly mixed together, resulting in contradictions, inconsistencies, and doublets in the continuous narrative. Josephus himself contributes only occasional brief comments of his own for the sake of harmonization or as a bridge between one subject and another, and some banal concluding remarks” (The Image of the Jews in Greek Literature, 324). Compare this with the more nuanced conclusion reached by Shaye J. D. Cohen in Josephus in Galilee and Rome: His Vita and Development as a Historian (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 47. 3 See M. Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism: From Tacitus to Simplicius. Edited with Introductions, Translations and Commentary (Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1980), 2:49 (concerning Tacitus, Histories 5.8.3). See also idem, GLAJJ, 1:230 (in his introduction to Nicolaus of Damascus). On the influence of Nicolaus of Damascus, who is often perceived as having been hostile to the Hasmoneans, on Josephus, see also M. Stern, “Nicolaus of Damascus as a Source of Jewish History in the Herodian and Hasmonean Age,” in

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Regev estimates that Josephus’ reliance on Hellenistic sources “gave his presentation of the Hasmoneans strong Hellenistic characteristics that distorted the picture of their rule as seen by their Jewish contemporaries.”4 In fact, Regev claims that the perspective of Josephus was not merely biased by his sources, but also by his own “ambivalence” towards the Hasmoneans.5 This issue has important implications for our capacity to evaluate the information that Josephus provides us with on the wars waged by John Hyrcanus and his successors. Does his work exhibit his own point of view – or that of the Jewish sources that he was familiar with – or does its reflect the perspective of non-Jewish sources potentially hostile to the Hasmoneans? What conclusions does his work allow us to reach regarding the ideology that motivated John Hyrcanus and his successors? More particularly, does his work allow us to think that they hoped to reconquer the promised land? If we consider that Josephus relied exclusively on non-Jewish sources, it becomes possible to think that the reason he does not attribute any religious motivations to the Hasmonean wars (i. e. if he does not mention that they wished to “purify the Holy Land,” “reconquer the promised land,” etc.) is not because they did not share these motivations, but because such intentions eluded his non-Jewish sources. Conversely, if we admit that Josephus allows his authorial voice to intervene in his work, and that he does in fact provide us with his personal perspective on the Hasmonean wars, we are more likely to give serious consideration to the fact that he attributes these wars to the Hasmoneans’ desire for revenge, their economic motivations, and questions of national security, as opposed to a politico-religious programme based on Israel’s divine or pa­trimonial right over the land.6 Although it is of course important to examine each section of Josephus’ work separately, it is nevertheless helpful to begin by introducing the general issues raised by his sources and the use he made of them. Without going into the minutiae of the Bible and Jewish History. Studies in Bible and Jewish History Dedicated to the Memory of Jacob Liver (ed. B. Uffenheimer; Tel Aviv: University of Tel Aviv, 1971), 375–394 (Heb.); Efron, Studies on the Hasmonean Period, 167–175. 4 Regev, The Hasmoneans, 28. 5 Ibid. For a different approach to the issue of Josephus’ description of the Hasmoneans, see in particular E. S. Gruen, “The Hasmoneans in Josephus,” in A Companion to Josephus (H. Howell Chapman and Z. Rodgers, ed.; Chichester: Wiley, 2016), 222–234. 6 I only partly agree with Tessa Rajak when, commenting on the motivations of the Hasmoneans, she writes that “Unfortunately, Josephus’ narrative for the crucial years reveals far less than do the books of the Maccabees about the language of the regime and the internal dynamics of events; Josephus simply fails to offer the kind of information which could confirm or refute our interpretation” (“Hasmonean Kingship and the Invention of Tradition,” in The Jewish Dialogue with Greece and Rome: Studies in Cultural and Social Interaction [Leiden: Brill, 2001], 39–60). A careful examination of Josephus’ narrative does yield precious information, even if it is true that it would have been helpful if he had expressed himself more openly on various questions, and that he does not provide us with a direct reflection of “the language of the regime”.

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historiography of Josephus’ sources and the extent of his ability to derive a unified narrative from this material,7 it is worth recalling that since the 1960s (roughly), the notion that Josephus was an author in his own right has become increasingly prevalent. This is linked with a tendency among some scholars to study the work of Josephus for its own sake, and not simply in order to establish a certain number of facts on the history of the Jews in the Hellenistic era and at the start of the Roman era. Although this last approach is sometimes seen as rather “naive,” considering Josephus’ alleged unreliability,8 the scarcity of the sources available on this period means that his work remains an indispensable source for scholars seeking to throw light on the history of the Jews and Judea. On the whole, the scholars who adhere to this historiographical project and undertake a critique of the sources, continue to paint a picture of Josephus as a clumsy compiler of information, because it is difficult to ignore some of the contradictions in his work, not to mention his awkward articulation of the sources at his disposal.9 As so often in the history of scholarship, our task is to try to achieve a more balanced view, taking into account the problems raised by the work of Josephus, while also attempting to determine why he decided to use this or that source. It is also possible that something that will strike a modern commentator as questionable, may seem less problematic if we adopt the perspective of an author from the first century, i. e. if we resituate a particular passage, or certain historiographical conventions and notions (such as the concept of a “just war,” etc.) within the wider context of Josephus’ work and of his historical period more generally. Since Daniel Schwartz has recently examined these broad issues in detail in a seminal work,10 I shall merely try to determine whether Josephus really did use sources hostile to the Hasmoneans in War and Antiquities (books 12 to 14), and whether these works unwittingly reflect an anti-Hasmonean point of view. I say “unwittingly” because it seems certain that Josephus himself was not against the Hasmoneans. As I recalled at the start of Part I, not only was he proud to be

  7 We should also mention Hans Drüner, who, in Untersuchungen über Josephus (Marburg: 1896), considers Josephus to have been a fully-fledged author, diverging from some of his sources, such as 1 Maccabees, and introducing some modifications in his own work. Isaiah Gafni adopts the same stance in “Josephus and 1 Maccabees”.   8 See Daniel R. Schwartz’s analysis of this debate in Reading the First Century. On Reading Josephus and Studying Jewish History of the First Century (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 2–10.   9 Thus, Daniel Schwartz observes that “Josephus frequently reproduces sources with which he does not agree. Thus, for some examples, Josephus, a Pharisee, criticizes the Pharisees bitterly; Josephus, a proud descendant of the Hasmoneans, applauds Pompey for freeing Syrian cities from the rule of Jews, referred to in the third person, and then goes on, in the first person, to mourn the very same thing …” (Schwartz, “On Drama and Authenticity in Philo and Josephus,” SCI 10 [1989–1990]: 113–129; the quotation is on p. 127). On the liberation of the cities by Pompey and Josephus’ account of this episode, see infra. 10 Schwartz, Reading the First Century; see note 8.

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descended from the Hasmoneans through his mother,11 but he gives Hasmoneans such as Mattathias, Judas, Jonathan, and Simon (based, for the most part, on the First Book of Maccabees)12 the same treatment as the figures of the Hebrew Bible. Even when the source he relies on is no longer 1 Maccabees, his account of the Hasmoneans is often positive, indeed full of praise. John Hyrcanus, in particular, earns Josephus’ approbation overall.13 In both War (1.68–69) and Antiquities (13.282–283 and 299–300), Josephus portrays him as a man who enjoyed the love of God and was blessed with the three greatest honours: political leadership, the high priesthood, and the gift of prophecy – the latter as a result of his exceptionally close relationship with the divinity.14 Even Alexander Jannaeus, whose unprecedented cruelty towards his opponents is condemned by Josephus,15 prompts a few comments from the author that seem to suggest that he was perhaps not that bad after all. Thus, Josephus writes that following the defeat of Jannaeus against the Nabatean king Obedas I, the Judean population rose against him, unleashing a brutal repression in which many people were killed,16 before adding: “His victories, however, by which he wasted his realm, brought him little satisfaction” (J.W. 1.91). This comment, which suggests a certain level of empathy for Jannaeus, seems to have been added by Josephus himself, even though, according to the majority of scholars, the Judean War is based on the work of Nicolaus of Damascus. This is not to say, of course, that Josephus cannot also be critical of the Hasmoneans in his work. It seems to me that, in order to understand Josephus’ perspective on the Hasmoneans, we have to conceive of the possibility that Josephus was critical of Alexander and his sons, for reasons which had nothing to do with a hostile bias. Instead, as I will show in more detail later, Josephus’ views on the situation and interests of Judea and the Judeans at the time explain why he passed such a stern judgement on the last members of the dynasty. However, this does not mean that his overall assessment of the Hasmonean dynasty was not positive, as the following lines from the end of chapter 14 suggest: 11 Life 2; see also Ant. 16.187. 12 On Josephus’ use of 1 Maccabees as a source, see Part I, note 48. 13 See C. Thoma, “John Hyrcanus I as Seen by Josephus and Other Early Jewish Sources,” in Josephus and the History of the Greco-Roman Period (F. Parente and J. Sievers, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1994), 127–140. 14 Conversely, in 4QTestimonia (4Q175), we find what seems to be an attack on John Hyrcanus’ pretention to cumulate these three types of power. The tradition according to which Hyrcanus had a prophetic gift is also found in some rabbinic texts, especially the story according to which he heard a voice announcing the defeat of the enemy when he was performing the service at the temple, while his sons were fighting Antiochus Cyzicenus (compare Ant. 13.282–283 and t. Sotah 13:5, y. Sotah 9:12 [24b] and b. Sotah 33a). On the perception of the Hasmoneans in the Qumran texts and rabbinic literature, see Part III. 15 See J.W. 1.97; Ant. 13.381–383. 16 According to the Judean War, the number of casualties reached 50,000, although this ­figure is clearly exaggerated.

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… Herod gave Antony a large bribe and persuaded him to put Antigonus out of the way. And when this was done, Herod was freed of his fear, and at the same time the rule of the Asamonaean line came to an end after a hundred and twenty-six years. Theirs was a splendid and renowned house because of both their lineage and their priestly office, as well as the things which its founders achieved on behalf of the nation. But they lost their royal power through internal strife, and it passed to Herod, the son of Antipater, who came from a house of common people and from a private family that was subject to the kings. Such, then, is the account we have received of the end of the Asamonaean line.17 (Ant. 14.490–491; trans. Marcus, LCL, 703)

More generally, it seems to me that we cannot legitimately say that Josephus was foolish enough to lend his voice to an opinion that he certainly did not share, without having turned every stone in search of an explanation for his perspective on the Hasmoneans.18 Before examining Josephus’ attitude towards his sources, we have to analyse the discourses on the Hasmoneans that we find in the works of Greek and Roman authors, in order to understand their nature, context and influence. The history of the scholarship on the Hasmonean dynasty often assumes that the conquest of cities such as Marisa (Maresha), Samaria, Scythopolis, Gadara, and Gaza (among others) by John Hyrcanus and his successors provoked the indignation and hostility not just of the denizens of the cities in question, but also of several Greek authors, who went on to influence the perspective of Roman authors.19 According to Bezalel Bar-Kochva, the fact the Hasmoneans had attacked Hellenistic cities and destroyed large numbers of sanctuaries was responsible for at least some of the anti-Jewish accounts of the origins of the Jews, by authors such as Lysimachus, for example.20 However, Israel Shatzman’s in-depth analysis of the Greek and Roman

17 It is also worth observing that even as he criticizes Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II for their infighting, which would eventually have tragic consequences (see infra), Josephus also writes, in a passage on the time Aristobulus spent in Rome, where he was made prisoner after having been a king and high priest, that “… he was, moreover, a man of distinction and magnanimity” (Ant. 14.97; trans. Marcus, LCL, 499). 18 On this point, see also Schwartz, Reading the First Century, for example when he observes on p. 168 that some of Josephus’ contradictions reflect the evolution of Josephus’ own views. 19 On the link between the Hasmonean conquest of Hellenistic cities and the rise of anti-Judaism, see Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, for example 147–149 (in connection with Gaza); Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 391–392. 20 Bar-Kochva, ibid.; in his conclusion, he claims, on the one hand, that “Even the aggressive policy of the Hasmonaean state toward the Hellenistic population did not lead to one type of reaction by Greek authors” (ibid., 519); on the other hand, however, he writes that “With regard to the role of Jews in Judaea, almost all Greek authors known to us (save Timagenes) sharply criticized the Hasmonaean conquests and harsh treatment of the Gentile population. Besides, the background and dating of the first hostile Greek accounts indicate that events in the Jewish homeland had a decisive effect on the adoption of Egyptian traditional anti-Semitism by Greek authors, and a not insignificant influence on its growth down the years” (520–521). On Lysi-

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texts on the Hasmoneans contradicts this conclusion.21 According to Shatzman, the anti-Jewish feelings expressed in some of these sources should not be understood as a reaction to the Hasmonean conquests: most of these texts have absolutely nothing to say about the Hasmoneans, and focus instead on widespread diasporic ritual practices. In his recent monograph on the Hasmonean dynasty, Uriel Rappaport reaches the same conclusion.22 Finally, Menahem Kister is not convinced that the controversy around the rights of the Israelites (or Judeans) over the land of Israel – a controversy attested in some Jewish and non-Jewish sources – was necessarily linked to the Hasmonean conquests.23 This being said, the Hasmoneans are nevertheless criticized in several Greek and Roman texts. In order to be able to determine whether, and/or to what extent, Josephus echoed positions which did not necessarily reflect his own, we must proceed to a detailed examination of his sources. Ever since Gustav Hölscher argued, in a work published in 1904, that Books 12–14 of Antiquities are mostly based on Strabo and Nicolaus of Damascus, there has been widespread agreement on Josephus’s main sources for these books.24 Let us now turn to Strabo, and then to Nicolaus, as well as to the sources on which they claim to have based their own work, or which are attributed to them, and to other authors who develop similar arguments.

1.1 Strabo In Antiquities, Josephus claims on several occasions that his work is based on Strabo’s Historical Sketches (Historica Hypomnemata), which he quotes explicitly on a machus, who, according to Bar-Kochva wrote in Egypt towards the end of the second century B.C.E. and alludes to the Hasmoneans’ destruction of temples located outside of Judea, see in particular ibid., 333–337. See also Stern, GLAJJ, 1:386. 21 See Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans in Greco-Roman Historiography,” Zion 57 (1992): 5–64 (Heb.). Cf. Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 4–5. 22 Rappaport, The House of the Hasmoneans, 358–365 (Heb.). 23 See Kister, “The Fate of the Canaanites and the Despoliation of the Egyptians,” which includes a discussion of the passages from Jubilees presented in Part I, § 7. 24 Hölscher, Die Quellen des Josephus, 11–17, 36–43; Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:50–51. As far as the Judean War is concerned, the prevailing view is that it is solely based on the work of Nicolaus of Damascus (see Stern, GLAJJ, 1:129). However, Ben Zion Wacholder is less convinced of this, and studies of various passages have shown that Antiquities is more directly indebted to the work of Nicolaus than the Judean War. See Wacholder, Nicolaus of Damascus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1962), 60: “The hypothesis that the Bellum followed Nicolaus, however, is founded on sheer guesswork. The evidence, then, points to a fuller dependence on Nicolaus in the Antiquities than in the Bellum.” For a comparative analysis of various passages from the Judean War and Antiquities, see D. R. Schwartz, “On Drama and Authenticity in Philo and Josephus,” SCI 10 (1989/90): 120–129. Schwartz’s conclusions are corroborated by D. S. Williams, “On Josephus’ Use of Nicolaus of Damascus: A Stylometric Analysis of BJ 1.225–273 and AJ 14.280–369,” SCI 12 (1993): 176–187.

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few occasions. This work, which covers a period stretching from the end of Polybius’ Histories to Octavius’ conquest of Alexandria, has unfortunately been lost, and Josephus is the only one to have transmitted a few extracts from this work on the Jews and Judea. However, there are also passages on the Jews and Judea in Books 16 and 17 of Strabo’s Geography, which Josephus does not seem to have used as a source.25 There are various indications, in the passages from Strabo quoted in Anti­ quities, that Strabo was not especially hostile towards the Hasmoneans, or indeed towards Jews in general.26 In a passage on Chelkias and Ananias, Jewish generals in the service of Cleopatra III – who esteemed them and was busy fighting against Ptolemy Lathyrus, who was himself an enemy of Alexander Jannaeus, as we shall see later – Josephus quotes Strabo, to whom he attributes the following excerpt: For the majority, both those who came back from exile and those who were later sent to Cyprus by Cleopatra, immediately went over to Ptolemy. And only the Jews of the district named for Onias remained faithful to her, because their fellow-­citizens Chelkias and Ananias were held in special favour by the queen. (Ant. 13.287; trans. Marcus, LCL, 371).

In other words, Josephus suggests that Strabo’s work mentioned the prominent position that some Jews held at the court, as well as the loyalty that part of the Jewish population showed to the queen. Regarding the Jews of Judea, Strabo speaks openly about the popularity that Mattathias Antigonus – Herod’s foe – enjoyed in Judea. This may set Strabo apart from Nicolaus of Damascus, for example.27 According to Ant. 15.8–10, Anthony, who held Antigonus prisoner, decided to have him beheaded in order to put an end to the unrest, caused by the people’s refusal to accept the loss of their king. According to Josephus, Strabo wrote: [Anthony] believed that in no other way could he change the attitude of the Jews so that they would accept Herod, who had been appointed in his place. For not even under torture would they submit to proclaiming him king, so highly did they regard their former king. (Ant. 15.9–10; trans. Marcus, LCL, 7)

In Book 13 of Antiquities, Josephus states that Aristobulus I “conferred many benefits on his country” because the war that he waged against the Itureans led him to annex a considerable portion of their territory to Judea. This statement is fol25 See Stern, GLAJJ 1, Nos 109 to 124. 26 See Stern, GLAJJ, 1:262: “Strabo was able to make a more detached evaluation of the Hasmonaean dynasty than Nicolaus, who had personal ties with Herod and who was, as a native of Damascus, more sympathetic to the fate of the Hellenistic population of Syria”; Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans,” 40. 27 This observation has already been made by Menahem Stern in GLAJJ, 1:262, followed by Israel Shatzman in “The Hasmoneans,” 35.

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lowed by a quote from Strabo, who, writing on the authority of Timagenes, claimed that Aristobulus I was “a gentle person and very beneficial for the Judeans, for he acquired additional territory for them, and won over to them a portion of the Ituraean nation, whom he joined to them by the bond of circumcision” (13.319; trans. Marcus, LCL, 387, slightly modified).28 The tone of the passage is clearly full of praise. Although this comment is attributed to Timagenes, it nevertheless seems unlikely that Strabo would have included it in his own text if he was pr­e­ judiced against the Hasmoneans or the Judeans.29 It is also interesting to note, in passing, that Greek authors – including Alexandrians such as Timagenes – could sometimes cast the Hasmoneans, or at least some of them, in a positive light. Strabo’s Geography includes a very positive excursus on the origin of the Jews (16.2.37–40), in which Moses, portrayed as an Egyptian priest, is presented as a sage, whose rightful conception of the divinity and paring down of the cult, attracted crowds of enthusiastic supporters after he left Egypt for Judea.30 However, the justice and piety that characterized the perfect beginnings of the Mosaic ­society were eventually eroded, and that society degenerated, as superstitious priests were followed by tyrants (the Hasmoneans), and as tyranny helped brigandage to flourish (§ 37). In the same excursus, Strabo writes that: “At any rate, when now Judaea was under the rule of tyrants (τυραννουμένης τῆς Ἰουδαίας), Alexander was first to declare himself king instead of priest” (§ 40; trans. Jones, LCL, 289).31 Logically, then, it seems that, according to Strabo, Judea was already in a state of tyranny when Alexander Jannaeus rose to power; however, it is not possible to be more precise than this. Later on, Strabo describes Hasmonean strongholds as “the haunts of robbers” and “the treasure-holds of the tyrants” (§ 40, τὰ λῃστήρια καὶ τὰ γαζοφυλάκια τῶν τυράννων). In another passage of Geography, Strabo reminds his readers that the Judeans once used Joppa as a port – which was indeed the case from Simon onwards32 –, before adding that “the seaports of robbers are obviously only robbers’ dens” (τὰ δ᾿ ἐπινεία τῶν λῃστῶν λῃστήρια δηλονότι ἐστί) (Geogra-

28 On this passage and the “conversion” of the Itureans, see infra, section 2.2. On Timagenes, see Stern, GLAJJ, 1:222–223. 29 Cf. Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 519: “There were even Greek authors (Timagenes and Strabo, who drew on him) who, far from condemning the policies and violent deeds of the Hasmonaeans, described their conversion of foreigners as a step that the neighboring peoples, annexed to the Hasmonaean state, underwent voluntarily”. 30 On this excursus, see B. Bar-Kochva, “Mosaic Judaism and Judaism of the Second Temple Period – the Jewish Ethnography of Strabo,” Tarbiz 66/3 (1997): 297–336 (Heb.); idem, The Image of the Jews, 355–398; K. Berthelot, “Poseidonios d’Apamée et les Juifs,” JSJ 34/2 (2003): 160–198. 31 According to Josephus, Ant. 13.301, Aristobulus was the first to claim the title of king. It is also not true that Jannaeus “was the first to declare himself king instead of priest,” since he remained a high priest. 32 See 1 Macc 12:33–34; 14:5.

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phy 16.2.28; trans. Jones, LCL, 275).33 In other words, Strabo’s vision of the Hasmoneans as tyrants who promoted brigandage remains unchanged throughout his Geography, and he clearly disapproved of the Hasmoneans. This image is radically at odds with that of Moses and his first successors, who are presented as just rulers who were on good terms with Judea’s neighbouring populations (indeed, Strabo claims in his excursus that they rallied themselves to the Mosaic project).34 Is it possible that Strabo was responsible for statements that were just as self-contradictory and awkward as those that are usually ascribed to Josephus? Although Strabo himself probably cast a critical eye on the Hasmonean dynasty, his work nevertheless also reflects the diversity of his sources. Whereas in his Hypomnemata he based his account of Aristobulus I on a work by Timagenes, Posidonius is widely believed to be his principal source for his excursus on the Jews in Geography.35 Posidonius, who saw the Mosaic project through the lens of Stoic philosophy, believed that tyranny was the unfortunate consequence of a process of degeneration linked to the passage of time. Originally from Apamea, where a Jewish presence seems attested at the time,36 Posidonius was probably already an adult when John Hyrcanus waged his wars of conquest, but lived long enough to have some knowledge of the events that took place under the rule of Jannaeus and his sons.37 I have shown in an earlier work that although Posidonius admired the aspects of Judaism that he believed to be true to its original Mosaic inspiration, 33  See Stern, GLAJJ, 1:290–291, 295–296, 300–302, 306–307. 34 On the stark contrast between the image of Moses and that of the Judean leaders that were Strabo’s contemporaries, see Berthelot, “Poseidonios d’Apamée et les Juifs,” 174–177 in particular. However, Bar-Kochva is right to remind us that the exalted portrayal of Moses, his conception of the divinity and the cult reflect a philosophical ideal – Posidonius’ in this case (see infra) – and that the images of the Mosaic cult and of the Jewish cult at the time of the Hasmoneans were not straightforwardly at odds with each other (The Image of the Jews, 370–372 and 392, n.119). 35 See Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 389–398. 36 See Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:13–15; Stern observes that Apamea was one of three Syrian cities where Jews and non-Jews lived side by side, and where non-Jews did not attack the Jews when the great revolt against Rome broke out (cf. Josephus, J.W. 2.479; GLAJJ, 1:143). 37 Bar-Kochva suggests that he was probably born between 143 and 129 B.C.E., and died between 59 and 45 B.C.E. (The Image of the Jews, 339–340). Based on an examination of the testimonia and the fragments attributed to Posidonius, the majority of commentators estimate that Posidonius’ Histories cover a period stretching until the mid-80s; see F. Jacoby, FGrH IIa, Kommentar, 156–157; I. G. Kidd, “Posidonius as Philosopher-Historian,” in Philosophia Togata. Essays on Philosophy and Roman Society (M. Griffin and J. Barnes, ed.; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 39; J. Malitz, Die Historien des Poseidonios (München: Verlag C. H. Beck, 1983), 32. However, M. Laffranque argues that we can only be certain that they covered the years 145 to 96 (Poseidonios d’Apamée: essai de mise au point [Paris: P.U.F., 1964], 118–122). Emphasizing the close relationship between Posidonius and Pompey, others consider that he may conceivably have continued writing his Histories until 63 B.C.E. (see K. Reinhardt, “Poseidonios,” R.E. 22/1 [1953], col. 558–826 [see col. 630]; H. Strasburger, “Poseidonios on Problems of the Roman Empire,” JRS 55 [1965]: 40–53 [see p. 44]). Based on Strabo 11.1.6, Reinhardt suggests that

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he nevertheless was very critical of what he perceived during his lifetime as the superstition and misanthropy of Judaism.38 In contrast, Bezalel Bar-Kochva considers that Posidonius had a positive view of Judaism overall, and that the Hasmoneans were the focus of his criticisms.39 However, it seems to me that Strabo (i. e. Posidonius) is not merely critical of the Hasmoneans, since the superstitious practices that he attributes to the priests who came just before the Hasmoneans include the circumcision and dietary laws, both of which were key practices in Judaism during the Hellenistic period. Conversely, the monotheism and aniconism of the Jews is likely to have met with Posidonius’ approval. However, this is besides the point, since what interests us here is the Hasmonean question. All those who consider that Posidenius was Strabo’s source agree that Posidonius was critical of the Hasmonean dynasty. Josephus himself does not seem to have used Posidonius’ work as a source.40 In view of the fact that Josephus does not at any point quote Strabo’s Geography, it is difficult to determine whether he was aware that this work paints a picture of the Hasmoneans as tyrants in cahoots with brigands.41 In any case, Josephus does not seem to have considered that Strabo was hostile to the Jews. In addition to the excerpts that I have already quoted, we should remember that, in Against Apion, Josephus recuses the slanderous comments of the Alexandrian grammarian on the cult performed in the temple of Jerusalem, and calls instead for the views of “reputable historians,” in particular “Polybius of Megalopolis, Strabo the Cappadocian, Nicolaus of Damascus, Timagenes, Castor the chronicler, and Apollodorus,” who, according to Josephus, all declared that Antiochus IV violated treaties and plundered the temple of the Judeans out of sheer greed (Ag. Ap. 2.83–84).42 Although Josephus wishes to strike a polemical tone in his debate with Apion, his references to Strabo suggest, on the whole, that he did not consider him to have been biased or hostile towards the Jews. Let me add one last remark: if Strabo’s allusion to the brigandage of the Hasmoneans may have come from Posidonius, it was nevertheless also part of a coherent set of references in Strabo’s work to the marauding activities of the peoples who took advantage of the collapse of the Seleucid empire, i. e. the very peoples who gave Posidonius devoted a monograph to Pompey, and that this is at the origin of Strabo’s excursus on the Jews. Jacoby already expressed his doubts on the existence of such a monograph (FGrH IIa2, 157); Bar-Kochva also rejects this hypothesis (The Image of the Jews, 347–348). 38 See “Poseidonios d’Apamée et les Juifs” and Philanthrôpia judaica, 111–143. 39 See The Image of the Jews, 396–397. 40 Although Josephus does refer to Posidonius in Against Apion (2.79), it is only to list him among the authors quoted by Apion, who himself may have only known of him through Apollonius Molon. 41 Strabo’s Hypomnemata do not seem to have included an excursus on the Jews; see Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 450. 42 See J. Barclay, Flavius Josephus. Against Apion, Translation and Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 215.

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trouble to Pompey in the Levant: the Itureans, the Nabateans and the Judeans. The portrayal of “Arabs” and Judeans as brigands was in fact used to justify the Roman conquests.43 This suggests that Strabo’s portrayal of the Hasmoneans owes more to his pro-Roman perspective than it does to any bias against the Hasmoneans. In Greco-Roman literature, accounts of the Hasmoneans as tyrants in cahoots with brigands are not quite as common as is sometimes suggested.44 The Judeans in general (rather than the Hasmoneans) are also portrayed as brigands by a Latin author who came from Gaul, Pompeius Trogus, in a universal history written in Latin and entitled Historiae Philippicae – a work whose universalizing ambition and structure are comparable to Diodorus’ Bibliotheca historica and Nicolaus of Damascus’ monumental historical work. Unfortunately, however, all that remains of Pompeius Trogus’ work today are a set of prologues (that is to say, the summaries of each one of its 44 books) and an epitome written by Justin around two hundred years later.45 According to the epitome, Pompeius Trogus wrote that at the time of Demetrius I Soter, the Judeans – who “had recovered their liberty by force of arms” – “would submit to no Macedonian king afterwards, but commanded by rulers of their own nation harassed Syria with fierce wars (Syriam magnis bellis infestaverint)” (Justin, 36.1.9).46 Indeed, the prologue of Book 39 describes “How the Judeans and the Arabs molested Syria by brigandage on land (ut Syriam Iudaei et Arabes terrestribus latrociniis infestarint).” Justin also makes another reference to marauding Judeans and Arabs, when Pompey tells Antiochus XIII, who was asking the Roman general to return his kingdom to him, that “he would not give him what he himself had yielded to Tigranes and what he would not know how to defend, lest he should again expose Syria to the depredations of the Judeans and Arabs (ne rursus Syriam Iudaeorum et Arabum latrociniis infestam reddat)” (40.2).47 As we shall see later, Josephus independently puts similar words in the mouth of other protagonists. In spite of this, Pompeius Trogus does not display any anti-Jewish feelings in his work. On the contrary, he praises Joseph and Moses for their wisdom and 43 See J. Aliquot, “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban du IIe siècle a.C. au IVe siècle p.C.,” in Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 56 (1999–2003): 161–290. Commenting on Strabo’s account of the brigandage of the Itureans, he writes that “… l’opposition schématique entre les brigands montagnards, dont l’organisation politique s’apparente à la tyrannie, et les paysans de la plaine justifie aux yeux de Strabon l’interventionnisme des rois, ‘tantôt l’un, tantôt l’autre’, avant que Pompée ne survienne et ne rétablisse l’ordre en libérateur. La nécessité et l’inéluctabilité de la conquête sont encore des idées prégnantes dans le passage relatif à l’écrasement du brigandage en Trachônitide, qui doit précéder l’avènement d’un nouvel ordre sous le bon gouvernement romain” (p. 207). See also B. Isaac, The Limits of Empire: The Roman Army in the East (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 67. On the Itureans, see sections 2.2 and 3.2 (infra). 44 See Shatzman’s critique of this commonplace in “The Hasmoneans,” 11. 45 On the work of Pompeius Trogus and its transmission, see G. Forni and M. G. Angeli Bertinelli, “Pompeo Trogo come fonte di storia,” ANRW II.30.2 (1982): 1298–1362. 46 See Stern, GLAJJ, 1:336–337. 47 See Stern, ibid., 343.

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beauty, as well as the priest kings who came after Aaron, about whom he writes that “by their justice combined with religion, it is almost incredible how powerful they became” (Justin, 36.2.16; trans. Stern, GLAJJ, 1:338). There is no trace in his work of the historical model according to which their original perfection was followed by a period of decadence.48 Although it is difficult to reconstitute the words of Pompeius Trogus based on Justin’s summaries, he only seems to make a few isolated allusions to the Hasmonean wars and to marauding Judeans and Arabs, and these statements do not appear to detract from his globally positive assessment of the history of the Jews.49 Although his references to the brigandage of the Judeans may have been inspired in part by Posidonius, it is not possible to assert this with any certainty.50 As in the case of Strabo, Pompeius Trogus’ references to marauding Judeans are linked to the role that Rome played in the pacification of the region. Tacitus also mentions the Hasmonean dynasty, stating that as the Macedonians became weaker, the Judeans started to have their own kings: These in turn were expelled by the fickle mob; but recovering their throne by force of arms, they banished citizens, destroyed towns, killed brothers, wives, and parents, and dared essay every other kind of royal crime without hesitation; but they fostered the national superstition, for they had assumed the priesthood to support their civil authority. (Histories 5.8.3; trans. Jackson, LCL, 189–191)

This passage seems to refer primarily to episodes of internal unrest within the Judean society, such as the clashes between Alexander Jannaeus and the Pharisees, or between the different members of the Hasmonean dynasty – for example the murder of Antigone by Aristobulus I, or the struggle for power between Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II. Diodorus also wrote about these quarrels.51 Although ­Tacitus may have drawn the motif of superstition that he introduces into these lines from Posidonius’ Histories, he makes no allusion to brigandage in his work, unlike Strabo – unless we understand his allusion to “destroyed towns” to be associated 48 I would qualify René Bloch’s analysis of Pompeius Trogus’ work in Antike Vorstellungen vom Judentum: Der Judenexkurs des Tacitus im Rahmen der griechisch-römischen Ethnographie (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2002), 61. 49 Justin himself admits that his account is selective (see J. M. Gager, Moses in Greco-Roman Paganism [Nashville–New York: Abingdon Press, 1972], 48, n. 74). Giovanni Forni considers that Justin preserved roughly one fifth of the work of Pompeius Trogus on average, depending on the book in question (“Pompeo Trogo come fonte di storia,” 1299). 50 See Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans,” 46. On the influence of Posidonius on Pompeius Trogus’ Book 36 (which is especially perceptible in its section on geography), see Schürer – Vermes– Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:21; J. Morr, “Die Landeskunde von Palästina bei Strabon und Josephus,” Philologus 81 (1926): 256–279 (see esp. 278–279); L. Santi Amantini, Fonti e valore storico di Pompeo Trogo (Iustin. XXXV e XXXVI) (Pubbl. Ist. di Storia antica 9; Genova: University of Genova, 1972), 65–109. 51 See my discussion of Ant. 14.41–46 and Diodorus, book 40, frg. 2 (infra).

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with the Hasmonean conquests.52 However, this interpretation seems unlikely, considering that the passage focuses on the relationship between a king and his people. In his own account of the history of the Hasmoneans, George Syncellus sheds an interesting light on these lines by Tacitus when he suggests that Jannaeus destroyed the Judean cities which rebelled against the power of the Hasmoneans (George Syncellus’ narrative diverges on this point from Josephus, who mentions the destruction of Greek cities).53 In other words, Tacitus does not refer to the supposed brigandage of the Hasmoneans in the Histories. Finally, it is worth noting that the texts that do portray the Hasmoneans as marauders do not suggest that they destroyed sanctuaries. Yet, modern historians have often claimed that the Hasmoneans repeatedly destroyed “pagan” temples.54 Had this been the case, the Greeks would have been especially appalled, since they considered an attack on a sanctuary to be a grievously impious act.55 The silence of the Greco-Roman sources on this issue is all the more striking. It is true that the Alexandrian author Lysimachus wrote a very negative excursus on the Jews circa 100 B.C.E., claiming that they systematically destroyed the sanctuaries they found on their path as they made their way to Judea, after leaving Egypt under the leadership of Moses. Although Lysimachus may have been inspired by the events of the Hasmonean era,56 this is not certain (his account does not mention the Hasmoneans at all). Moreover, the acts of destruction that he describes occurred before the arrival of the Jews in the promised land. Finally, the fact that the authors who explicitly mention the wars and marauding of the Hasmoneans do not at any point claim that they committed impious acts or destroyed sanctuaries, makes such an interpretation of Lysimachus’ excursus rather tenuous.

52 On the destruction of various cities by John Hyrcanus and his sons, see sections 2.1 to 2.3 (infra). Neither David Rokéah nor René Bloch examine this question in their respective analyses of Tacitus’ excursus; see Rokéah, “Tacitus and Ancient Antisemitism,” REJ 154/3–4 (1995): 281–294; Bloch, Antike Vorstellungen, esp. 102–104. 53 See George Syncellus, Chronography (ed. G. Dindorf; Bonn, E. Weberus, 1829), 1:558 ; Stern, GLAJJ, 2:49. 54 See for example Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 335: “A systematic action against Hellenistic cult centers throughout Coile Syria and Phoenicia was taken by John Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus from 125 B.C.E.”. 55 See for example the accusations of impiety directed at Philip V, in connection with his destruction of sanctuaries; É. Will, Histoire du monde hellénistique (323–30 av. J.-C.) (Nancy: Université de Nancy, 1967), 2:125. 56 See Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 333–337.

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1.2 Nicolaus of Damascus Fragments are all that remains of the Histories of Nicolaus of Damascus (born c. 64 B.C.E.).57 It seems most likely that excerpts from the work of Nicolaus that Josephus quotes in his own work came from a section of the Histories which was devoted to the Hellenistic monarchies and mentioned the Judeans (as opposed to a section of the Histories entirely devoted to Judea).58 Nicolaus is said to have written his Histories at the behest of Herod, who employed him as his secretary, advisor and ambassador from at least 14 B.C.E.59 Nicolaus’ thoughts on the Hasmoneans have been reconstituted using the quotations that Josephus explicitly attributes to him, and also, in some cases, statements that are not considered attributable to Josephus, and are as a result imputed to Nicolaus, even when the Judean historian does not mention him. This obviously implies making a very subjective assessment, which does not preclude circular reasoning. Although we know that Strabo was familiar with the work of Nicolaus of Damascus (he quotes him in Geography 15.1.72–73), Strabo’s remarks on the Hasmoneans do not seem to draw on it. The main argument in support of the notion that Nicolaus of Damascus was hostile to the Hasmoneans is based on his close relationship with Herod, who was an opponent of the Hasmonean dynasty and seized power from Mattathias Antigonus, the last Hasmonean to rule over Judea (40–37 B.C.E.). According to Josephus, Nicolaus was a devoted supporter of Herod, and this led him to paint an idealized picture of this ruler in his work.60 This has prompted some scholars to infer that Nicolaus sought to undermine the image of the Hasmonean dynasty, in order to confer greater legitimacy onto Herod. However, Nicolaus felt no particular hostility towards the Judeans or the Jews in general, as suggests his version 57 See Jacoby, FrGrHist II/A, No 90, 324–430. On the work of Nicolaus of Damascus, see also Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:28–32; B. Z. Wacholder, Nicolaus of Damascus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1962), esp. 58–64; E. Parmentier-­ Morin, L’œuvre historique de Nicolas de Damas: La vie de Nicolas de Damas et la composition de son oeuvre historique/La place de Nicolas de Damas dans l’œuvre de Flavius Josèphe (doctoral dissertation, University Paris X, 1998), 129–150; and the recent edition of the works of Nicolaus of Damascus, with a French translation, by E. Parmentier and F. P. Barone: Nicolas de Damas. Histoires, Recueil de coutumes, Vie d’Auguste, Autobiographie (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2011). On the title of Nicolaus’ main work (Histories or Universal History), see Parmentier and Barone, ibid., p. XXI–XXIII. This work included 144 books. 58 See Wacholder, Nicolaus of Damascus, 59–60; Stern, GLAJJ, 1:240. 59 See Parmentier and Barone, Nicolas de Damas, XIV–XVII. 60 However, Mark Toher considers that Nicolaus may have occasionally expressed reservations towards and even criticized Herod, and that it was thus not absurd for Josephus – who was hostile to Herod – to draw on his work (“Nicolaus and Herod in the Antiquitates Judaicae,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 101 [2003]: 427–447).

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of the origins of the Jewish people – according to him, Abraham was the king of Damascus, the city of Nicolaus (Ant. 1.159–160). As far as the era of the Maccabees is concerned, moreover, it is worth remembering that, according to Josephus, Nicolaus was critical of Antiochus IV and attributed his attack on the Jerusalem temple to greed (Ag. Ap. 2.83–84). Josephus also claims that, when Nicolaus wrote about the moment when Pompey seized the temple of Jerusalem, he emphasized the piety of the besieged who did not stop celebrating their cult – Strabo also makes the same point (Ant. 14.66–68). In another passage, we see Nicolaus of Damascus defending the rights of the Jews against the Ionians, in a conflict arbitrated by Marcus Agrippa (Ant. 12.125–126).61 In short, all the evidence suggests that Nicolaus was fairly pro-Judean, and that his criticisms were confined to the Hasmonean dynasty. Indeed, Ben Zion Wacholder even formulates the hypothesis that Nicolaus’ Histories can be perceived as an apologetic work, in the same vein as some Jewish Hellenistic texts, because of the position that Nicolaus accords to the Jews within the Greco-Roman world.62 One of the extracts of the Histories that is often said to reflect the anti-Hasmonean stance of Nicolaus of Damascus is a passage relating the decisions that Pompey took following the fall of Jerusalem, in Book 14 of Antiquities (Ant. 14.74–77). This passage describes how Pompey deprived Judea of most of the territories that had been conquered under John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I and Alexander Jannaeus. The fact that Josephus’ account of this episode is ambiguous has led many scholars to present it as one of the most striking examples of the way Josephus occasionally diverges from his sources. In Judean War 1.155–157, he writes that the cities that had been conquered but not destroyed by the Judeans were “liberated” and that, thanks to Pompey, they were restored “to their original citizens (τοῖς γνησίοις πολίταις),” while the Judeans were “confined within their own borders (μόνοις αὐτοὺς τοῖς ἰδίοις ὅροις περιέκλεισεν)”. This passage seems to draw on an external source, which reflected the point of view of the cities that benefited from Pompey’s actions, and more generally the perspective of the Romans. This is even clearer in §§ 165–166 and 169–170, which describe how Gabinius r­ e­populated the cities that had been destroyed, re-established order, reorganized the region, etc.63 In the parallel passage of Antiquities, Josephus states explicitly that he is drawing on non-Jewish sources: he asserts in Ant. 14.104 that “the expeditions of Pompey and Gabinius against the Jews have been written about by Nicolas of Damascus and Strabo of Cappadocia, neither of whom differs in any respect from the other” (Marcus, LCL, 503; see also Ant. 14.68). All we know of what Strabo wrote about this comes from his rather laconic observation, in Geography, that “Pom61 See the list of the fragments of Histories transmitted by Josephus, in Parmentier and Barone, Nicolas de Damas, LIII. 62 Wacholder, Nicolaus of Damascus, 64. 63 See Safrai’s conclusion in “The Gentile Cities of Judea,” 90.

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pey clipped off some of the territory that had been forcibly appropriated by the Judeans (Πομπήιος μὲν οὖν περικόψας τινὰ τῶν ἐξιδιασθέντων ὑπὸ τῶν Ἰουδαίων κατὰ βίαν)” (16.2.46; trans. Jones, LCL, 297). However, his various comments on tyrants and brigandage suggest that in his eyes this outcome was a just return to a previous order. In this case, however, Josephus’ probable source is generally thought to be not so much Strabo, as Nicolaus of Damascus.64 The following lines are Josephus’ initial summary of these events: 74 (Pompey) made Jerusalem tributary to the Romans, and took from its inhabitants the cities of Coele-Syria which they had formerly subdued, and placed them under his own governor; and the entire nation, which before had raised itself so high, he confined within its own borders (καὶ τὸ σύμπαν ἔθνος ἐπὶ μέγα πρότερον αἰρόμενον ἐντὸς τῶν ἰδίων ὅρων συνέστειλεν). 75 He also rebuilt Gadara, which had been demolished a little while before, to please Demetrius the Ciadarene, his freedman; and the other cities, Hippus, Scythopolis, Pella, Dium, Samaria, as well as Marisa, Azotus, Jamneia and Arethusa, he restored to their own inhabitants. 76 And not only these cities in the interior, in addition to those that had been demolished, but also the coast cities of Gaza, Joppa, Dora and Straton’s Tower … all these Pompey set free and annexed them to the province [of Syria]. (Ant. 14.74–76; trans. Marcus, LCL, 485–487)

It is interesting to note that the Judean ethnos is described as having been “contained” or “confined” in both this passage from Antiquities and its equivalent in War, although a different verb is used (περικλέιω in War, συστέλλω in Antiquities). Moreover, as Daniel Schwartz emphasizes, in this passage from Antiquities, the Judeans are mentioned in the third person plural; the author seems very curious about the fate of non-Judean cities, and takes an active interest in the relationship between Pompey and Demetrius of Gadara. In § 76, the word “province” is used to speak of the province of Syria: yet Syria has not been mentioned. It is as though Syria constituted the author’s immediate context.65 This prompts the conclusion that Josephus’ source in this passage must have been a non-Jew from Syria, which in turn suggests that Nicolaus of Damascus is very likely to lie behind both this passage from Antiquities and its equivalent in War. However, the notion that this passage is evidence of his hostility towards the Judeans is questionable. Although it is true that Nicolaus of Damascus presents his readers with the point of view of the cities that were “liberated” by Pompey, his portrait of Judea as a “nation, which before had raised itself so high,” is nevertheless rather flattering. As such, it is possible to interpret these words by Nicolaus as an observation inspired by the changing fortunes of a people, a topos of Greco-Roman historiography. In the next couple of paragraphs, Josephus adds a few personal comments, writing in the first person: 64 See Schwartz, Reading the First Century, 18–22. 65 Ibid., 20.

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77 For this misfortune which befell Jerusalem Hyrcanus and Aristobulus were responsible, because of their dissension. For we lost our freedom and became subject to the Romans, and the territory which we had gained by our arms and taken from the Syrians we were compelled to give back to them (καὶ τὴν χώραν ἣν τοῖς ὅπλοις ἐκτησάμεθα τοὺς Σύρους ἀφελόμενοι ταύτην ἠναγκάσθημεν ἀποδοῦναι τοῖς Σύροις), 78 and in addition the Romans exacted of us in a short space of time more than ten thousand talents; and the royal power which had formerly been bestowed on those who were high priests by birth became the privilege of commoners. (Ant. 14.77–78; trans. Marcus, LCL, 487–489)

This time, the narrator’s voice actually belongs to Josephus, just as it does at the end of chapter 14, in a passage echoing this section.66 Although he laments the fact that Judea has lost its political freedom and the territories that it conquered under the Hasmoneans, Josephus does not describe these losses as an injustice, but a misfortune, for which Hyrcanus and Aristobulus are entirely responsible.67 This perspective on the predicament of Judea finds an echo in Josephus’ analysis, later on, of what caused the catastrophe of 70: he attributes this disaster first and foremost to the rifts in the Judean society. Similarly, he sees the harsh fate of the Judeans following the Roman conquest in 63 B.C.E. as a consequence of the Hasmonean dynasty’s internecine struggles.68 Moreover, when Josephus writes that, “For of all the cities under Roman rule it was the lot of ours to attain to the highest felicity and to fall to the lowest depths of calamity” (J.W. 1.11; trans. Thackeray, LCL, 9),69 commenting on the role that feuds (stasis) played in the fall of Judea to the Romans in the first century C.E., his comment brings to mind an observation attributed to Nicolaus in Ant. 14.74 (“the nation which before had raised itself so high”),70 even if J.W. 1.11 is written in the first person and sounds more dramatic. Commenting on Pompey’s redistribution of the territory, Josephus writes that “… the territory which we had gained by our arms and taken from the Syrians we were compelled to give back to them”. In other words, this comment appeals 66 It is interesting to note that Josephus seems absolutely unperturbed by the fact that the Hasmoneans were both high priests and kings. 67 As Daniel Schwartz rightly observed in a 1994 article, “Josephus, in contrast [to Nicolaus], while bewailing Pompey’s arrangements, did not consider them unjust. … That is, what matters in affairs of state is who is successful and who is not … territory belongs to who can hold it, and a Jew may bemoan as unfortunate, but not as unfair, the loss of territory which his side had previously taken fair and square in war” (“Josephus on Hyrcanus II,” 219). 68 See in particular J.W. 1.10–11. We find the language of stasis in both this passage and Ant. 14.77–78. It is interesting to note that in J.W. 1.10–11, in which Josephus laments the misfortune of his fatherland, the first-century insurgents are accused of tyranny and brigandage, like the Hasmoneans in some sources (see also infra, § 1.3). Josephus thus seems to have internalized a pro-Roman perspective and discourse. 69 See the previous footnote. 70 Although there are differences in the language of these two passages, their effect is very similar.

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to the classic framework of territorial gains based on conquest. However, as I explained in Part I, conquest only guaranteed the right of ownership over a territory if certain conditions were met, and one would be hard put to see how the Judeans could have argued that they did meet those conditions. As such, it was only logical for Josephus, writing with a partly Greco-Roman audience in mind, not to present the loss of these territories as an injustice, but simply as a misfortune.71 Other passages in Antiquities show that Josephus understood that at the start of the Hasmonean period, the ancestral Judean territory was limited to Judea. Thus, when Simon launched an expedition in Galilee to save the Judeans who resided there from the clutches of their enemies and bring them back to Judea, Josephus refers to Judea with the words εἰς τὴν οἰκείαν, literally “in their own (territory)” (Ant. 12.334). Moreover, when Judas and his brother waged war on the Idumeans, tearing down the walls of Hebron and setting fire to its towers, Josephus writes that “they ravaged the foreign territory” (ἐδῄουν τὴν ἀλλόφυλον χώραν) (12.353) before going back to Judea. In other words, Idumea is described as a foreign territory in this passage. It seems that Josephus did distinguish between the ancestral Judean territory and the territories that Judea owned through annexation or conquest, based on the rights conferred by the might of arms rather than an original patrimonial right of ownership. It is worth emphasizing that when Josephus laments the fate of Judea in Ant. 14.77–78, he does not say anything to suggest that the Judeans saw their fatherland, or a fortiori the land that God had given to them, taken away from them. All of which may explain why Josephus used Nicolaus of Damascus’ account of the fate of Judea in 63 B.C.E., even if his own perspective differed from the Syrian author’s, who showed much less empathy for the fate of Judea. However cold and detached the perspective of Nicolaus, it must not have seemed particularly shocking to the Judean historian, insofar as Nicolaus’ stance remained fairly matter of fact. In this particular case, it seems to me that the conjunction between Ant. 14.74–76 and Ant. 14.77–78 does not so much exhibit Josephus’ carelessness, as the fact that his own point of view did not differ quite as much from Nicolaus’ as might seem at first glance, because Josephus was aware that the territories that the Hasmoneans had conquered from the “Syrians” were not part of the ancestral land of Judea. Finally, it is interesting to note that Josephus ascribes to both Strabo and Nicolaus of Damascus various remarks criticizing the Seleucids and the Lagids in the context of their clashes with the Judeans. As well as the criticism of Antiochus IV in an extract from Against Apion that I have already quoted, I should mention the monstrous barbarity attributed in Antiquities to Ptolemy Lathyrus during the war he waged against Alexander Jannaeus: 71 Conversely, it is probable that Josephus considered that it was unfair that the Judeans should have to pay a tribute of 10,000 talents to the Romans, and that he found their interference in the domestic policy of Judea intolerable.

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After this victory Ptolemy overran other territory, and when evening fell, halted in some villages of Judaea, which he found full of women and infants; he thereupon commanded his soldiers to cut their throats and chop them up and then to fling the pieces into boiling cauldrons and to taste of them. This order he gave that those who had escaped from the battle and had returned to their homes might get the notion that the enemy were eaters of human flesh, and so might be the more terrified by this sight. And both Strabo and Nicolaus say that they treated the Jews in the manner which I have just mentioned. … (Ant. 13.345–347; trans. Marcus, LCL, 399–401)

There are few scenes quite as horrific as this one in Antiquities.72 Yet, Josephus’ commentators have not accused Strabo and Nicolaus of distorting the facts because they favoured the Hasmoneans or were biased against the Lagids … The rather more measured criticism of the Hasmoneans which is voiced here and there in the work of Josephus does not mean that Strabo and Nicolaus – if these criticisms are indeed imputable to them – were systematically hostile to the Hasmoneans.

1.3 The Judean (or Idumean) origins of some of Josephus’ criticism of the Hasmoneans The point of view of the Greek authors who portrayed the Hasmoneans as tyrants and held them responsible for the rise of brigandage in the region was not necessarily at odds with the perspective of some Judean groups, according to Josephus and other Jewish sources. I disagree with Eyal Regev’s claim that “in his description of the Hasmonean period, Josephus missed the spirit of the era. Josephus focused on military occupations and political tensions, without explaining what the Jewish people thought of the Hasmoneans and what the Hasmoneans thought of the Jewish people and themselves.”73 On the contrary, Josephus does provide us with information on these points. This is the case, for example, in a passage of Book 14, in which he describes the popularity that Mattathias Antigonus enjoyed. Josephus also tells us that the Hasmoneans had opponents in some Judean circles. It seems to me that Eyal Regev’s judgement is to some extent skewed by his belief that the Hasmonean dynasty as a whole was very popular. As is only logical, this stops him from taking into account the fact that Josephus mentions the opposition that the dynasty met with on several occasions, under Hyrcanus I, Jannaeus and during the feud between Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II. However, Josephus’ account of the popularity of Herod’s foe, Mattathias Antigonus, as well as the praise he occasionally lavishes on some of the Hasmoneans (including Aristobu72 Ralph Marcus draws a parallel between this scene and a passage from Herodotus (3.11) in which Greek mercenaries waging war in Egypt slit the throats of children, and drink their blood mixed with wine and water (Josephus. Jewish Antiquities Books XII–XIV, LCL, 400–401). 73 Regev, The Hasmonean Dynasty, 11.

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lus II), make it impossible – I do not think that this can be overstressed – to perceive him as an author subservient to Nicolaus of Damascus, and to understand his allusions to the unpopularity of some of the Hasmoneans in certain Judean circles as an attempt to slander them, based on sources hostile to them. It makes more sense to think that Josephus accepted the historical reality of these opposition movements, whose views he occasionally shared (in particular on the cruelty of Alexander Jannaeus). Indeed, as Israel Shatzman emphasizes – and as we shall see in more detail in Part III – a certain number of Jewish sources, such as the Pesharim of the Qumran community, the Psalms of Solomon and various passages from rabbinic literature also mention that some of the Hasmoneans, such as Jannaeus, were not popular. According to Israel Shatzman, the portrayal of the Hasmoneans as tyrants in cahoots with brigands in fact has Jewish origins.74 Indeed, according to Anti­ quities 14.41–46, when Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II appear before Pompey and argue over which one of them should be in power, Hyrcanus II accuses his brother of having seized control of the land by force and of being “the one who had instigated the raids against neighbouring peoples and the acts of piracy at sea,” adding “that the nation would not have rebelled against him if he had not been a man given to violence and disorder” (§ 43; trans. Marcus, LCL, 471). Josephus then explains that “In making these accusations he was supported by more than a thousand of the most reputable Jews, whom Antipater had provided for that purpose” (ibid.). Moreover, the fact that Pompey had just overcome the pirates in the Mediterranean added further weight to this denunciation of Aristobulus. It is possible that this allegation was not unfounded. Uriel Rappaport has found a certain number of indications that Alexander Jannaeus had moved away from his father’s pro-Roman policy, and forged closer ties with those who opposed the penetration of Rome into the Orient – figures such as Mithridates, in particular, who waged his wars with the pirates on his side. Moreover, the pirates included a large number of Cilicians et Pisidians, many of whom were employed as mercenaries by Jannaeus;75 Mithridates’ army also included Cilician mercenaries. In view of the fact that Aristobulus II seems to have continued the policies of his father, it is possible that he maintained such alliances and that the accusation made against him before Pompey was not entirely without foundation. Uriel Rappaport adds that Pompey’s decision to sever Joppa from Judea under Hyrcanus II can only be understood if the pirates used the port as as an asylum and as a base for their operations.76 74 See Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans,” 58. He remarks very judiciously that these Jewish sources may have exaggerated their claims. 75 See Ant. 13.374, and section 4.1 of this part of the book. 76 See Uriel Rappaport, “La Judée et Rome pendant le règne d’Alexandre Jannée,” REJ 127 (1968): 329–345 (esp. 340–342). For the opposite opinion, see Samuel Rocca, “The Hasmonean State and Rome: A New Appraisal,” REJ 173/3–4 (2014): 263–295.

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This accusation is not mentioned in Diodorus’ account of the meeting between Pompey, Hyrcanus and Aristobulus: he does not mention what Hyrcanus and Aristobulus said (40.2). According to Diodorus, a delegation of 200 prominent Jews accused the two brothers of ruling illegitimately over the Jewish people, having imposed their royal power on them “by means of a horde of mercenaries, and by outrages and countless impious murders.”77 Pompey then adjourned his arbitration of the two brothers, “but as to the lawless behaviour of the Jews and the wrongs committed against the Romans, he bitterly upbraided the party of Hyrcanus” (this should read: Aristobulus).78 The absence of any reference to Antiper in Diodorus’ version of the encounter invites at least two possible interpretations: either certain Judean circles spontaneously repudiated the Hasmonean dynasty, but Josephus tries to discredit this domestic opposition to the dynasty by suggesting that it was the result of the scheming plans of Antiper, Herod’s father; or Josephus is right and Antiper’s manoeuvring did play a part in the domestic opposition the Hasmoneans faced when the Romans defeated Judea. According to Israel Shatzman, the source for Josephus’ assertion was Strabo – and therefore Theophanes of Mytilene, a friend and freedman of Pompey, who was a source for both Strabo and Diodorus –,79 although Josephus may have had a pharisaic source as well.80 Whatever the case may be, Josephus clearly suggests that Antiper was responsible for this domestic opposition to the Hasmoneans, both in the passage quoted above and in other sections of Antiquities. Thus, in Antiquities 14.140–142, he writes that: But at that time Antigonus, the son of Aristobulus (II), also came to Caesar and bewailed the sad fate of his father, saying that it was on Caesar’s account that Aristobulus and his brother had died, the one having been put out of the way by poison, and the other executed by beheading at the hands of Scipio; and he begged Caesar to take pity on him for having been driven from his realm; and in this connexion he accused Hyrcanus and Antipater of governing the people by violence and having acted lawlessly toward him. But Antipater, who was present, defended himself on these points of the accusation which he saw had been brought against him, and declared that Antigonus and his fellows were revolutionaries and fomenters of sedition; at the same time he recalled how he had laboured on behalf of the Romans and assisted them in their plans of war, speaking of things to which his own person testified; with justice, he added, had Aristobulus been deported to Rome, for he had always been hostile to the Romans and never well-disposed toward them. As for the brother of 77 Τούτους δὲ νῦν δυναστεύειν καταλελυκότας τοὺς πατρίους νόμους καὶ καταδεδουλῶσθαι τοὺς πολίτας ἀδίκως· μισθοφόρων γὰρ πλήθει καὶ αἰκίαις καὶ πολλοῖς φόνοις ἀσεβέσι περιπεποιῆσθαι τὴν βασιλείαν. See Stern, GLAJJ, 1:185–187 (who uses the translation provided by Walton in the LCL). 78 Ibid. 79 On this point, see already Laqueur, Der jüdische Historiker Flavius, 149. 80 Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans,” 29.

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Antigonus who had been punished for brigandage (ἐπὶ λῃστείᾳ) by Scipio, he had met the fate he deserved, and if he had suffered this punishment it was not because of any violence or injustice on the part of him who had inflicted it. (Ant. 14.140–142; trans. Marcus, LCL, 521–523)

Speaking in his defence before Caesar, Antiper invokes arguments echoing the accusations that Hyrcanus II had levelled against his brother when they met before Pompey: there is unrest in the land and brigandage is rife (piracy was a sub-­category of brigandage). Antipater’s defence is successful, since Caesar names him procurator of Judea, and gives the high priesthood to Hyrcanus II. Caesar also allows Hyrcanus (or Antipater, in the corresponding narrative in War) to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, which had lain in ruins since the siege of 63. There are several other references to the theme of brigandage in the works of Josephus. These references are meant to cast Herod in a positive light: like Pompey, Herod rids the region of marauders and restores order; like Augustus, he is a bearer of peace.81 The motif of brigandage occurs again in a passage describing the siege of Jerusalem, under the rule of Mattathias Antigonus. The enemies of Herod – i. e. the supporters of Mattathias – are associated with marauding, and described laying the surroundings of Jerusalem to waste, in order to make it impossible for Herod to feed his army (“and by secret raids (λῃστείαις) also they caused a lack of provisions” [§ 471]), until Herod takes a set of measures “against the raids (πρὸς τὰς λῃστείας)” when he realizes what is going on (Ant. 14.471–472; see also J.W. 1.347 and 349). As such, it is possible to think that the association of the last members of the Hasmonean dynasty (from Aristobulus II onwards) with brigandage may have been part of a pro-Herodian propaganda which Nicolaus of Damascus probably relayed and which had its roots in Idumea. However, the last Hasmoneans are also described as plunderers in Judean sources independent of Antipater and Herod. 82 Moreover, this interpretation is subject to caution because in Ant. 14.43, it is the voice of Josephus that we hear when we read that prominent Judeans were acting at the instigation of Antipater, and this statement seeks to delegitimize the opposition to the Hasmonean brothers.

81 See J.W. 1.204; 304–305; Ant. 14.159–160; 415; 421; 424; 15.343–348; 16.271–292. In Ant. 15.120, it is Herod who is associated with marauding expeditions against the Arabs, because is he unable to defeat them in a pitched battle. However, in this case, the term does not seem to have any negative connotations, so much as describe as certain type of guerrilla warfare. 82 In particular, in the Pesher Habakkuk (1QpHab IX 4–7); see part III.

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1.4 Josephus’ point of view As we have seen in two passages which we have just discussed,83 it is occasionally possible to tell when we are hearing Josephus’ own voice, and to know his own point of view on his sources or on the events he describes.84 Still in connection with the theme of brigandage, it is worth noting that Josephus never repeats this accusation himself, except when he is relaying the words of those who opposed the Hasmoneans, in which case he always expresses his own reservations, as we have already seen. Conversely, he uses this accusation at least once against the Seleucids. Thus, in his account of the conflict between Antiochus IX Cyzicenus and Hyrcanus,85 Josephus writes that, with the help of the Egyptian troops sent by Ptolemy Lathyrus, “Antiochus ravaged Hyrcanus’ territory like a brigand (ἐπόρθει τὴν Ὑρκανοῦ χώραν μετὰ τῶν Αἰγυπτίων λῃστρικῶς)”: according to Josephus, Antiochus did not dare to launch a frontal attack on Hyrcanus, but wanted to force him to raise his siege of Samaria in order to stop the land being laid to waste (Ant. 13.278). On several occasions, Josephus also denounces the “greed” (πλεονεξία) of the enemies of the Hasmoneans. In his version of the letter that Jonathan wrote to the Spartans (1 Macc 12:6–18), Josephus adds a telling detail. Whereas the author of 1 Maccabees merely writes: “But many afflictions have encircled us, and many wars, and the kings around us have made war upon us” (1 Macc 12:13; trans. Zervos, NETS, 497), Josephus explains that “We have waged many wars because of the greed of our neighbours (διὰ τὴν τῶν γειτνιώντων πλεονεξίαν)” (Ant. 13.169). This explanation echoes what Josephus writes later on about Antiochus VII. The change in his attitude towards Simon is in this case also understood as a sign of his greed (πλεονεξία) (Ant. 13.225). Finally, greed is what differentiates the Jews from other nations according to Josephus in Against Apion (2.272): “We have trained our courage not for undertaking wars (inspired) by greed (πλεονεξία), but for preserving the laws.”86 In other words, even apparently minor changes reflect Josephus’ own perception of the events and his desire to defend the Hasmoneans against the criticism they might provoke. It is also interesting to note just how closely intertwined the defence of the Hasmoneans and of the Judeans (or indeed the Jews in general) are in the work of Josephus. This shows that he believed that 83 Ant. 14.43 and 77–78. 84 Many passages could be quoted to illustrate the fact that Josephus passed judgement on his sources; on Nicolaus of Damascus, see for example Ant. 14.9, where Josephus accuses him of lying about Herod’s background, or Ant. 16.183–185, when Josephus explains that Nicolaus was an apologist rather than a historian, because he wrote for Herod. 85 See section 2.1 (infra). 86 John Barclay translates this as “We have trained our courage not for undertaking wars of self-aggrandizement but for preserving the laws” (Josephus. Against Apion, 323).

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there was a close connection between the Hasmonean leaders and their people, and that he saw their fates as intimately linked.87 If Josephus’ account of the wars waged by the first Hasmoneans reflects his vision of a just war in Against Apion,88 conversely, it is clear that the wars waged by Hyrcanus against Adora and Marisa, or by Jannaeus against the cities on the coast, did not seek to “preserve the laws”. The model of the “struggle for the laws” applies to the broadly defensive wars of liberation waged by the first Hasmoneans, but not to the wars of conquest waged by their successors.89 In Against Apion, Josephus also writes: “Nor, to be sure, did our ancestors turn to piracy, like some others, or think fit to seek aggrandizement by going to war, although their land contained many tens of thousands of men who lacked nothing in courage” (1.62).90 This observation is rather surprising, considering the expansion of the Judean territory under John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I and Alexander Jannaeus. Should we understand this observation to mean that Josephus felt a certain ambivalence towards the wars of conquest waged by the Hasmoneans? Is he refusing to endorse their wars of expansion, or even tacitly condemning them? It seems to me that the apologetic tone of this observation means that it should not be taken literally. If we take out the sources that Josephus quotes, his narrative no longer contains any criticism of the Hasmonean territorial expansion: on the contrary, he seems to consider that this expansion was a rather good thing for the Judeans. Just as it is obviously not true – despite his claims to the contrary – that in Antiquities Josephus added nothing that was not in the Bible, his protestations that the Judeans never sought to increase the size of their territory should be understood as a rhetorical and apologetical gambit, and interpreted in the context of the period when Josephus wrote. These protestations do not challenge the support that Josephus exhibits in Antiquities for the wars waged by the Hasmoneans, especially John Hyrcanus. Yet, a certain number of commentators, taken aback by Josephus’ account of some of the Hasmonean wars, have put his stance down to his use of a source sympathetic to the enemies of the Hasmoneans. Josephus’ account of Jannaeus’ siege of Gaza is a case in point. This is what Menahem Stern writes about it: “The account shows some sympathy with Hellenistic Gaza, which succumbed to the onslaught 87 Eyal Regev underestimates this when he suggests that Josephus was ambivalent towards the Hasmoneans. 88 Isaiah Gafni also emphasizes this in “Josephus and 1 Maccabees,” 127. We also find the Greco-Roman conception of the just war (the need to show respect for emissaries and for dead enemy soldiers, the fact that war should be declared following an aggression, etc.) elsewhere in the work of Josephus. See L. V. Sementchenko, “On the Two Conceptions of Just War in the ‘Jewish Antiquities’ of Flavius Josephus,” Revue des études anciennes 103/3–4 (2001): 485–495. 89 See my article “La perception des Hasmonéens par Flavius Josèphe,” in En mémoire de Sophie Kessler-Mesguich (ed. J.-P. Guillaume et al.; Paris: Presses Universitaires de la Sorbonne Nouvelle, 2012), 37–52. 90 Trans. John Barclay, Josephus. Against Apion, 43–44.

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of the Jews.”91 More radically, Aryeh Kasher argues that it is “permeated with Gentile animosity toward the Jews, and especially toward the Hasmoneans and Alexander Jannaeus.”92 Indeed, in the very detailed account he provides of this siege in Antiquities (13.358–364), Josephus does not attribute any merit to Jannaeus, since a certain Lysimachus delivers the city to him. This does not stop Jannaeus from allowing his troops to plunder the city and massacre its population, including five hundred councilmen, who had taken refuge in the temple of Apollo and were killed without any regard for the sacred character of that sanctuary.93 Josephus also provides us with a significant amount of information about the population of Gaza, whose courage he praises, telling us that some of them chose to burn down their houses and kill their own wives and children, rather than see them fall into the hands of Jannaeus’ soldiers. It seems fairly certain that Josephus relied on a Greek source for this passage. However, his detailed account of the murder of these women and children at the hands of their own husbands or fathers is ambiguous. As a matter of fact, Josephus tells a similar story in the Judean War about the refu­ gees at Masada, but in this case Josephus condemns their collective suicide. This historiographical topos, which seeks to make the narrative more dramatic, should therefore not necessarily be understood as an expression of admiration or compassion for these people. Although it was against the norms of Greek war to massacre enemies who had taken refuge in a sanctuary, there are several examples of such infractions in 1 Maccabees, for example at Karnain (1 Macc 5:43–44) and Azotus (1 Macc 10:84–85). Indeed, Josephus does not significantly modify the account of the massacre at Azotus provided in 1 Maccabees: in his version, Jonathan burns down Azotus and the temple of Dagon, killing everyone who had taken refuge inside (Ant. 13.99). More generally, Israel Shatzman is quite right to remind us that we should not be surprised to see a Judean author rejoice in the destruction of enemy cities and the massacre of their population: like the author of 1 Maccabees, Josephus takes pride in the victories of the Hasmoneans against their ene-

91 Stern, GLAJJ, 1:230. 92 Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 148. 93 On the respect owed to sanctuaries, supplicants, prisoners, and corpses, and more widely on the norms of the just war in the Greco-Roman world, see J. de Romilly, “Guerre et paix entre cités,” in Problèmes de la guerre en Grèce ancienne (ed. J.-P. Vernant; Paris: Mouton, 1968; reprinted Paris: Editions de l’EHESS–Seuil [Points Histoire], 1999), 273–290; P. Ducrey, Le trai­ tement des prisonniers de guerre dans la Grèce antique: des origines à la conquête romaine (­Paris: Éd. de Boccard, 1968), 289–311; A. Bernand, Guerre et violence dans la Grèce antique (Paris: ­Hachette, 1999), 395–418. On this question in the Roman context, see in particular A. Michel, “Les lois de la guerre et les problèmes de l’impérialisme romain dans la philosophie de Cicéron,” in Problèmes de la guerre à Rome (Paris: Mouton, 1969), 171–183; W. V. Harris, War and Imperialism in Republican Rome: 327–70 B.C. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), esp. 166–174. Flavius Josephus himself endorsed these norms on several occasions; see for example Ant. 14.309–310, and Sementchenko, “On the Two Conceptions of Just War”.

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mies.94 Moreover, Jannaeus’ capture of Gaza also echoes Jonathan’s capture of the same city fifty years previously (Ant. 13.148–153).95 A comparison between these two passages nevertheless shows that whereas Jonathan respected the alliance that he had passed with Gaza when it surrendered, Jannaeus, on the contrary, did not honour his agreement with that city. However, Josephus goes some way towards legitimating Jannaeus’ vengeful treatment of that city, by explaining that Gaza had passed an alliance with his mortal enemy, Ptolemy Lathyrus. In short, although Josephus’ account of the siege of Gaza seems to have been based on a non-Judean source, he does not exhibit that much hostility towards Jannaeus in his own narrative, which invites several different readings. Before bringing to a close this analysis of Josephus’ perspective on the history of the Hasmoneans, it is important to emphasize that, from John Hyrcanus onwards, Josephus seldom mentions God or divine providence.96 His description of the gift of prophecy and benediction that John Hyrcanus had received from the divinity is a notable exception to this general rule (Ant. 13.282 et 299–300). Yet, even if Josephus clearly implies that God favoured Hyrcanus and blessed his various undertakings, he does not at any point suggest that the Hasmonean conquests had politico-religious motivations. As we shall see in more detail in the next section, the motivations that Josephus attributes to John Hyrcanus and his descendants have to do with their desire for revenge, their opportunistic eagerness to take advantage of favourable circumstances, or a compulsive need to wage war (in the case of Jannaeus). However, he does not suggest anywhere that their wars were motivated by as ambitious a political and religious design as the reconquest of the biblical land of Israel.

94 Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans,” 53–58. We should point out that, in contrast, the author of 2 Maccabees seems to have been more sensitive to the need to respect the right of asylum, including in “pagan” sanctuaries (2 Macc 4:33–35). This could suggest that this author was a diasporic Jew. 95 Let us not forget that Josephus’ observation in Ant. 13.152 shows that he felt no particular sympathy for the coastal cities. His criticism is directed at the reaction of the population of Gaza, not at Jonathan’s actions. 96 This observation can be understood in light of the fact that, from Jonathan onwards, God is seldom mentioned as an actor in the story told in 1 Maccabees, because what the author of that book really wanted to emphasize was the military valour and the political stature of the Hasmoneans.

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2. The different stages, the nature, and the motivations of the Hasmonean territorial expansion 2.1 John Hyrcanus The high priesthood of John Hyrcanus did not begin auspiciously. The ­contemptible assassination of his father and brothers meant that Hyrcanus was isolated, even if it seems fair to assume that he did benefit from the support of a good proportion of the Judean population.97 Very soon, he found his position under threat from Antiochus VII, who laid siege to Jerusalem “in the fourth year of his reign and the first of Hyrcanus’ rule, in the hundred and sixty-second Olympiad,” according to Josephus (Ant. 13.236). However, these dates are contradictory, and it seems likely that this siege occurred sometime during the period running from 134 (the year when Hyrcanus rose to power) to 133 B.C.E. Indeed, the Seleucid authorities minted coins in Jerusalem, with a lily flower on one side, and the words “king Antiochus euergetēs” on the other, as early as 181 and 182 of the Seleucid era, i. e. 132/31 and 131/30 according to the Macedonian computation.98 These coins ­celebrated the alliance between Antiochus VII and John Hyrcanus that Josephus mentions in Ant. 13.250 (φιλία καὶ συμμαχία). The fact that the coins that Antiochus VII minted in Jerusalem include an undated series of coins which Arthur Houghton dates from 133/32,99 suggests that the siege may have taken place in the year 134/33. In any case, the siege was over by 132/31 B.C.E. Following his alliance with Antiochus VII, John Hyrcanus fought at his side against the Parthians, during a campaign that can be dated to the spring of 130.100 Following the death of the Seleucid king in the winter 129/28, Hyrcanus found himself in charge of a reduced territory. However, he now had his hands free. I briefly mentioned, in Part I (§ 6), the connection between the siege that Antiochus VII laid to Jerusalem and Simon’s clash against the Seleucid king over Joppa, Gazara, and the Acra. Yet, the fact that Simon had then proceeded to destroy the Acra (according to Josephus) means that this citadel could not have been the focus 97 1 Macc 16:21–22 is not very explicit on this subject. However, Josephus has more to say on this matter in J.W. 1.55. 98 See A. Houghton, Coins of the Seleucid Empire from the Collection of Arthur Houghton (New York: American Numismatic Society, 1983), 83–84, Nos 831–834; A. Houghton, C. C. Lorber and O. D. Hoover, Seleucid Coins: A Comprehensive Catalog. Part 2: Seleucus IV through Antiochus XIII (2 vol.; New York–Lancaster: The American Numismatic Society, 2008), 1:391–392; Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 433; Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy of John Hyrcanus,” 33–35. 99 See Houghton, Coins of the Seleucid Empire, 83. 100 See D. R. Schwartz, “On Antiochus Sidetes’ Parthian Expedition and the Fragmentation of Historical Research,” in The Jews in the Hellenistic-Roman World: Studies in Memory of Menahem Stern (ed. I. M. Gafni et al.; Jerusalem: Graphit Press, 1996), 83–102 (Heb.).

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of a dispute any longer. In Antiquities, the surrender treaty that Hyrcanus accepted at the end of the siege included paying a tribute (δασμός) for Joppa and the other cities located at the periphery (or indeed outside, according to some manuscripts) of Judea (Ant. 13.246). Later, the Judeans preferred to pay Antiochus a tribute of five hundred talents of silver and offer him hostages, rather than having to tolerate the presence of a garrison in Jerusalem (13.247). According to Bezalel Bar-Kochva, the sum of five hundred talents that the Judeans had to pay included the phoros, i. e. the annual tax of 300 talents that Judea already had to pay, as well as an exceptional tribute of two hundred for the “Joppa-Gazara-Pegae corridor”: based on the sums mentioned in 1 Macc 11:28 and 13:15, it seems to him improbable that five hundred talents would have been required for the “corridor” alone.101 What were the implications of this treaty for the territorial possessions of Judea, and in particular for its access to the sea, which is such a source of pride in 1 Maccabees? Bezalel Bar-Kochva argues that before laying siege to Jerusalem, the Seleucid king must have started by reinstating his military occupation of these strategic places and positioning Seleucid garrisons there, just as he intended to do in Jerusalem. According to Bar-Kochva, the fact that the surrender treaty does not mention these garrisons means that they must have remained in place.102 We do not know what happened to the Judean garrisons that Simon had left there; let us not forget that during his father’s life, John Hyrcanus himself had resided in Gazara. It seems that John tried to reinstate the authority of Judea over these territories following the death of Antiochus VII – probably in its immediate aftermath, in 128/27 B.C.E. –, and that he initially tried to achieve this objective through ­di­plomatic channels. Josephus mentions a Judean embassy to Rome, which should probably be situated in this context:103 101 Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 405–406, n. 21. Diodorus writes that Antiochus received the tributes (phoroi) that were due to him (34/35.1.5). 102 Ibid., 437. 103 As opposed to situating it in the context of the conquests of Sichem, Mount Gerizim, and Idumea, as Josephus suggests; on the chronology of these conquests, see infra. Tessa Rajak argues that the Judean embassy to Rome described in Ant. 13.259–266 coincided with the period when Antiochus VII besieged Jerusalem (Rajak, “Roman Intervention in a Seleucid Siege of Jerusalem?,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 22/1 [1981]: 65–81). The notion that Rome played a part in moderating the stance of Antiochus VII was already implicit in Will, Histoire du monde hellénistique, 2:412. See also Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:204–205. However, Israel Shatzman considers this possibility to be unfounded (“The Integration,” 71). Bezalel Bar-Kochva also rejects this idea (The Image of the Jews, 437), as does Chris Seeman (Rome and Judea in Transition: Hasmonean Relations with the Roman Republic and the Evolution of the High Priesthood [New York: P. Lang, 2013], 187–188). Although I used to find Tessa Rajak’s arguments compelling, I am now persuaded by those who argue that this embassy occurred after the death of Antiochus VII – otherwise, why would the envoys not have requested an end to the siege? Moreover, the embassy could not have been sent immediately after the treaty, since John Hyrcanus had just formed an alliance with Antiochus VII and had to leave to fight at his side against the Parthians.

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260 (Gaius) Fannius, the son of Marcus, the praetor (στρατηγὸς, praetor), convened the Senate on the eighth day before the Ides of February in the Comitium in the presence of Lucius Mallius Mentina, the son of Lucius, and of Gaius Sempronius Falerna, the son of Gaius,104 to discuss the matters presented by the envoys Simon, the son of Dositheus, and Apollonius, the son of Alexander, and Diodorus, the son of Jason, worthy and excellent men sent by the Judean people, 261 who also spoke of the friendship and alliance existing between their people and the Romans, and of public affairs such as their request that Joppa and its harbours and Gazara and Pegae and whatever other cities and territories Antiochus took from them in war, contrary to the decree of the Senate (παρὰ τὸ τῆς συγκλήτου δόγμα), be restored to them, 262 and that the soldiers of the king be not permitted to march through their country or those of their subjects, and that the laws made by Antiochus during this same war contrary to the decree of the Senate (παρὰ τὸ τῆς συγκλήτου δόγμα) be annulled, 263 and that the Romans send envoys to bring about the restitution of the places taken from the Judeans by Antiochus and to estimate the value of the territory ruined during the war, and also that they give the Judean envoys letters to the kings and free cities to assure their safe return homeward. (Ant. 13.260–263; trans. Marcus, LCL, 357–359, slightly modified)

The reference to “harbours” in the plural is rather surprising. Although we have seen that the author of 1 Maccabees celebrated the fact that the capture of Joppa gave Judea access to the sea, it would seem, a priori, that it only constituted a single port, and in any case Joppa is mentioned separately in this passage. Aryeh Kasher suggests that these “harbours” must be a reference to the moorings in the vicinity of Joppa.105 The reference to Pegae is also rather obscure. Isidore Lévy – and Théodore Reinach after him – understands it to mean “the district of Ras el ‘Ain, in which the Aoudjeh takes its source and where the fortress of Antipatris, north-east of Joppa, stood”.106 Despite the apparition of these new place names in the list of the localities at the centre of the dispute between the Hasmoneans and the Seleucids, not to mention the other unnamed “cities and territories” referred to in the text, the reference to Joppa and Gazara clearly places this episode after Antiochus VII’s victorious siege of Jerusalem. Since, according to Ant. 13.246, the Judeans had agreed to pay a tribute for Joppa and other peripheral Judean cities (such as Gazara), we should understand the passage quoted above as a request 104 Caius Sempronius Tuditanus – if indeed this was him – was a praetor in 132 B.C.E. and a consul in 129, at the same time as Manius Aquillius. If in fact the document quoted by Josephus originally referred to both consuls, then this would mean that the embassy predated the death of Antiochus VII. 105 Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 118. 106 Original French text: “le canton du Ras el ‘Ain, où prend sa source l’Aoudjeh et où s’éleva la forteresse d’Antipatris au nord-est de Joppé”; see I. Lévy, “Notes d’histoire et d’épigraphie,” REJ 41 (1900): 174–195 (esp. 179–180). See also J. Kaplan, “Fejja” (Pegae), in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 782–783; Cohen, The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria, the Red Sea Basin and North Africa, 236.

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from the Judeans that the localities mentioned be exempted from having to pay a tribute and placed once again under the exclusive control of Judea. It seems rather odd that the Judean emissaries should make no reference to the garrisons which, according to Bar-Kochva, were established in these cities, but this may have gone without saying. In their request, the Judeans make a reference to an earlier senate decree, which they claim Antiochus violated. This decree should be identified with a document that Josephus transcribes in Ant. 14.145–148, but dates erroneously to the era of Hyrcanus II, when in fact it should be associated with the rule of Hyrcanus I.107 There are a number of striking parallels between this decree and the one that is ascribed, in 1 Macc 15:16–21, to the period when Antiochus VII was preparing his volte-face against Simon.108 Both documents mention a certain Lucius, even if he is described as a “consul” (ὕπατος) in 1 Maccabees, and as a “praetor” (στρατηγὸς) in Antiquities. In 1 Maccabees, Simon’s ambassadors have been sent to Rome bearing a gold shield in order to renew the friendship and alliance (φιλίαν καὶ συμμαχίαν) between the Judeans and the Romans (1 Macc 15:17–18). The letter sent to the cities and kings by Lucius forbids them to wage war on the Judeans, their cities and their country (v.19).109 Similarly, the document that Josephus transcribes in Ant. 14.145–148, describing it as a senatus consultum (τῆς συγκλήτου δόγμα, § 144) also mentions the gold shield that the Judean emissaries brought with them in order to renew their friendship with Rome; and, in turn, the Judean ambassadors (one of whom is named as Numenius, as in 1 Macc 15:15) are entrusted with letters addressed to kings and independent cities, stating that the land of the Judeans and their harbours must not be attacked (ὑπὲρ τοῦ τὴν χώραν αὐτῶν καὶ τοὺς λιμένας ἀδείας τυγχάνειν καὶ μηδὲν ἀδικεῖσθαι, § 147). This reference to the “harbours” recalls the claim that the representatives of Hyrcanus make in Ant. 13.261. As such, it seems very likely that the senatus consultum mentioned in Ant. 13.261 is in fact none other than the document which is tran107 Théodore Reinach argued that this text should be read in the context of the clashes between John Hyrcanus and Antiochus IX Cyzicenus. However, this hypothesis has now been invalidated (“Antiochus Cyzicène et les Juifs,” REJ 38 [1899]: 161–171). 108 It is rather striking that, in 1 Macc 15, the author interrupts his account of Simon’s relationship with Antiochus VII in 1 Macc 15 in order to mention the renewal of the alliance and the friendship between Rome and the Judeans (15:15–24). The fact that the letter written by the “consul” Lucius is mentioned just before the account of the conflict between the Judeans and Antiochus VII cannot be incidental: instead, it seems likely that it exhibits the fact that Rome was widely seen as having arbitrated a certain number of territorial conflicts in the second century B.C.E., as well, of course, as the importance of having an alliance with Rome. On the importance for the legitimacy of the Hasmonean dynasty of its diplomatic relationship with Rome, see Seeman, Rome and Judea in Transition. 109 Cf. Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:194: “The embassy was courteously received by the Senate, and obtained a senatus consultum guaranteeing to the Jews undisputed possession of their territory”.

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scribed in Ant. 14.145–148, and predates Antiochus’ invasion of Judea. In order to refine this date further, we have to choose between two possibilities: either the first decree goes back to the rule of Simon, or it dates from the time when John Hyrcanus rose to the high priesthood.110 The second possibility seems preferable, both because Hyrcanus is named in § 148 of the relevant passage in Antiquities, and because Lucius Valerius Flaccus, who was consul in 131 may have been praetor in 134.111 As such, it seems that the author of 1 Maccabees is responsible for backdating this embassy to the rule of Simon. However, the Senate met the request of the Judeans (Ant. 13.260–263) with polite inertia. The matter was adjourned, suggesting that the Romans were in no hurry to help the Judeans in their fight against the Seleucids. Although the Judeans had renewed their alliance and friendship with the Romans, this did not help them to keep the territories under dispute. In fact, the Romans had already failed to come to their help against the Seleucids in the days of Judas and Jonathan, who had both also entered into alliances with Rome. Indeed, it would be wrong to think that the “alliance” with the Judeans was a binding treaty for Rome.112 How110 Théodore Reinach already considered this second possibility to be the most likely in “Antiochus Cyzicène et les Juifs,” 169–170. See also Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:195. Both dates are possible, according to A. Giovannini and H. Müller in “Die Beziehungen zwischen Rom und den Juden im 2. Jh. v. Chr.,” Museum Helveticum 28 (1971): 156–171 (esp. 160–165). In “The Integration of Judaea into the Roman Empire” (SCI 18 [1999]: 49–84), Israel Shatzman favoured dating this document to the start of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus, in 134 B.C.E. (see p. 66–68). However, in “The Expansionist Policy of John Hyrcanus,” he considers that the decrees mentioned in 1 Macc 15 and Antiquities were not the same, and that there were in fact two decrees, one in 142 and the other in 134 (see p. 58–61). As for Chris Seeman, he thinks that there was only one Judean embassy, which took place at the start of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus (Rome and Judea in Transition, 189–194). 111 See Seeman, ibid. 112 On the “alliance” and the “friendship” between Rome and the Judeans, and whether or not there really existed a treaty going back to Judas, see E. S. Gruen, The Hellenistic World and the Coming of Rome (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), 46–51 and 748–751. Gruen’s conclusion is that there was no actual treaty (foedus) between the Romans and the Judeans. See also S. Mandell, “Did the Maccabees Believe that They Had a Valid Treaty with Rome?,” CBQ 53 (1991): 202–220. Mandell’s analysis of the language used by the author of 1 Maccabees and Josephus leads her to conclude that although the Hasmoneans probably believed that they had a bona fide treaty with Rome, because of some discrepancies in the meaning of Greek and Latin words, this was in fact not the case. All there was between the Judeans and the Romans was a “friendship,” which did not give the latter any obligations towards the former. Robert Morstein Kallet-Marx confirms that the titles of “friend” and “ally” did not necessarily imply a treaty (see Hegemony to Empire: The Development of the Roman Imperium in the East from 148 to 62 B.C. [Berkeley–Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995], 185–186). Werner Eck also describes the treaty between Rome and Judas as “Leerformel, die zunächst ohne jede Bedeutung war” (Rom und Judaea [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007], 5). For the opposite view, according to which Judas had obtained the ratification of a foedus aequum, see D. Gera, Judaea and Mediterranean Politics 219 to 161 B.C.E. (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 303–311; and Shatzman, “The Integration of Judaea,” 62. However, Shatzman later adopted a more nuanced position: “Indeed, as some scholars claim,

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ever, considering the role that Rome played in the arbitration of conflicts and its increasing interventions in the affairs of Asia during the second century B.C.E. (in the years 133–129, Rome created the province of Asia from the ancient kingdom of Pergamon), it was better to be a “friend” of Rome, rather than one of its foes.113 Chris Seeman has made an interesting suggestion in this context, emitting the idea that, for the Hasmoneans, an alliance with Rome was first and foremost a way to demonstrate their power to their opponents within Judea itself – i. e. such an alliance strengthened their internal hold on power.114 Whatever the case may be, the Roman response to the embassy sent by the Judeans in the early 120s B.C.E. did not meet their expectations. Did this lead Hyrcanus to decide to use force in order to re-establish the full authority of Judea over these territories? It seems reasonable to think that the siege of Jerusalem and the ensuing campaign against the Parthians had weakened Hyrcanus, and that he could not afford an open conflict with Demetrius II and had to increase the size of his army before anything else could happen. According to Israel Shatzman, Hyrcanus abstained from launching a ­mi­litary campaign to take back control of the “corridor” to the sea, because he was hoping that Rome would lend him its explicit support. He had to wait until his conflict with Antiochus IX Cyzicenus – the son of Antiochus VII – to obtain this support and launch a war to recover the lost territories and conquer new ones.115 But let us not get ahead of the story. According to Josephus, John Hyrcanus began his policy of territorial expansion in the immediate aftermath of the death of Antiochus VII. Indeed, Josephus suggests in War that, “seizing an opportunity for revenge,” the Hasmonean leader launched his first operations during Antiochus’ campaign against the Parthians (which would imply that Hyrcanus either did not take part in this expedition, or only played a small role) (J.W. 1.62). Still according to War, Hyrcanus launched one offensive operation after another, taking in turn Medeba (in the ancient territory of Moab), Samoga and its neighbouring towns, as well as Sichem, Mount Gerizim (the cities of “the Cuthaeans,” meaning the Samaritans), Adora and Marisa in Idumea. The sons of John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus and Antigonus, then laid siege to Samaria, before razing it to the ground and reducing its population to slavery. After that, they marched on Scythopolis (Beth-Shean), laying to waste the entire region south of Mount Carmel (J.W. 1.63–66). they may have had more symbolic than practical character, but it would be wrong to infer that for the Romans they were devoid of any significance. At least they served to advertise and affirm Rome’s imperium, imperium nostrum …” (“The Expansionist Policy of John Hyrcanus,” 69). 113 See Will, Histoire politique du monde hellénistique 2:422: “Les années 133–129 enclenchent le mécanisme qui, non sans grincements ni hésitations de la part de Rome, va mener en un siècle presque tout l’Orient hellénistique de la clientèle romaine à la provincialisation.” 114 Seeman, Rome and Judea in Transition. This is the thesis he develops in the book. J.W. 1.48 supports his argument. 115 Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy of John Hyrcanus”.

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In Antiquities, Josephus provides his readers with a much more detailed account of the military operations of Hyrcanus and his sons. In particular, he distinguishes between two different waves of conquests. The first wave was aimed at the “cities of Syria” and took place in the immediate aftermath of Antiochus’ campaign against the Parthians. This led to the conquest of Medeba, Samoga, and the neighbouring towns in Transjordan (Moab), Sichem, Mount Gerizim, and the Idumean c­ ities of Adora and Marisa, whose population had to agree to be circumcised and to adopt the laws and lifestyle of the Judeans if they wished to be allowed to remain (Ant. 13.254–258).116 Josephus then interrupts his account of these conquests, in order to describe the Judean embassy to Rome, which I have already discussed above (Ant. 13.259–266). This is followed by an account of the feud between the pretenders to the Seleucid throne, Demetrius II, Alexander Zebinas, Antiochus VIII, and Antiochus IX (Ant. 13.267–274). Josephus makes no bones about the fact that these clashes benefited the Hasmoneans and the Judeans, before returning to the wars waged by John Hyrcanus and his sons. However, this part of his account of their wars is not very clear. In § 272, Josephus begins by relating the early stages of the conflict between Antiochus VIII Grypus and his half-brother Antiochus IX Cyzicenus. After stating that “During all this time, Hyrcanus lived in peace,” he adds: … for after the death of Antiochus (VII Sidetes) he too revolted from the Macedonians, and no longer furnished them any aid either as a subject or as a friend; instead, his government progressed and flourished greatly during the reign of Alexander Zebinas and especially under these brothers. For the war between them gave Hyrcanus leisure to exploit Judaea undisturbed, with the result that he amassed a limitless sum of money. Moreover, when Cyzicenus ravaged his land, he openly showed his intention, and seeing that Antiochus had been deserted by his Egyptian allies’ and that both he and his brother were faring badly in their struggle with each other, he showed contempt for both of them. (Ant. 13.273–274; trans. Marcus, LCL, 365)

Several parts of this narrative demand clarification. What form did the revolt of Hyrcanus against the Seleucids take after the death of Antiochus VII? Josephus has already indicated earlier that the Hasmonean leader launched his first wars of conquest in the immediate aftermath of the death of Antiochus. However, he seems to be referring to something else in these lines, such as the fact that Hyrcanus stopped paying the tribute he owed to the Seleucids. This would explain why Josephus goes on to write that Hyrcanus amassed great riches: it is hard to see how he could have managed to accumulate so much wealth, if he had continued to pay the taxes that he owed them. It is also possible to think that Judea may have regained its access to the sea under the rule of this Hasmonean leader, since 116 In the next section (§ 3), I shall closely examine the meaning of this “conversion,” which has attracted so much attention from modern historians.

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harbours would also explain his prosperity. It is difficult to say whether Seleucid garrisons had remained in place in the harbours up until then: since Josephus does not breathe a word about these garrisons, all we can do is postulate that they may have existed. Josephus then goes on to describe the havoc that Antiochus IX later wrecked on the territory over which Hyrcanus ruled (see infra). But what were these ravages? Josephus suggests that this episode was a turning point in the attitude of Hyrcanus, who “openly showed his intentions,” which may perhaps be an allusion to his plan to seize new territories. Josephus then refers to the fact that Antiochus lost his Egyptian allies: however, it is not clear which Antiochus he is talking about, and what exactly happened. We have to read on in order to understand this passage. After these general and rather allusive considerations on John Hyrcanus and the Seleucids, Josephus goes on to describe the siege of Samaria. Antigonus and Aristobulus having been put in charge of the siege by their father John, they proceed to starve the population. The denizens of Samaria having sent a cry of help to Antiochus IX Cyzicenus, the latter attempts to come to their rescue but is defeated by Aristobulus, who pursues him all the way to Scythopolis.117 The siege having started again, the same scenario unfolds a second time, and Antiochus IX asks Ptolemy IX Lathyrus to send reinforcements of six thousand men – which Ptolemy does, in spite of his mother’s opposition. With the support of these Egyptian troops, Antiochus lays the Judean territory to waste “like a brigand” (he raids it, in other words) in order to divert Hyrcanus’ attention from the siege of Samaria. However, having lost a large number of men, Antiochus eventually withdraws to Tripolis, leaving two generals in charge, Callimandrus and Epicrates. Callimandrus soon dies on the field, and the venal Epicrates hands Scythopolis and other places over to the Judeans in exchange for money, without managing to raise the siege, which ends with the destruction of the city of Samaria. In a different section of Antiquities (Ant. 14.247–255), Josephus transcribes a document, which seems likely to bear on the conflict between Hyrcanus I and Antiochus IX Cyzicenus. This is a decree from Pergamon quoting a senatus consultum in connection with a certain “Antiochus, son of Antiochus,” who can only be Antiochus IX. The senatus consultum states that: … the Jewish nation and their high priest Hyrcanus have sent as envoys to them Straton, son of Theodotus, Apollonius, son of Alexander, Aeneas, son of Antipater, Aristobulus, son of Amyntas, and Sosipater, son of Philip, worthy and excellent men, and have made representations concerning certain particular matters, whereupon the Senate passed a decree concerning the matters on which they spoke, to the effect that King Antiochus, son of Antiochus, shall do no injury to the Jews, the allies of the Romans; and that the fortresses, harbours, territory and whatever else he may have taken from them shall be restored to them; and that it shall be lawful for them to export goods 117 In J.W. 1.65, Josephus erroneously names Antiochus VIII Grypus.

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from their harbours and that no king or people exporting goods from the territory of the Judeans or from their harbours shall be untaxed except only Ptolemy, king of Alexandria, because he is our ally and friend; and that the garrison in Joppa shall be expelled, as they have requested. (Ant. 14.248–250; trans. Marcus, LCL, 581–583)

There are only two possibilities: either the text refers to the war that Antiochus VII waged against the Judeans (but Antiochus VII was not the son of an Antiochus), or it refers to Antiochus IX, and we are therefore to understand that the latter had taken control of the harbours and Joppa, and also established a garrison in that city. This leads me to the following hypothesis: Josephus’ allusion in Ant. 13.274 to the ravages that Antiochus IX inflicted on Hyrcanus’ territory may in fact not be connected with the account that Josephus goes on to make of the offensive that Antiochus IX launched in order to rescue Samaria (since Josephus’ narrative logically suggests that the siege of Samaria came after this episode, rather than before), so much as with Cyzicenus’ initial offensive against the Judean territory, and more especially its harbours. Even though Josephus does not actually mention the harbours in the context of Ant. 13.274, his narrative makes more sense if we adopt this interpretation. This hypothesis also helps to explain why, in the decree of the Senate, Rome expressly exempts Ptolemy (Lathyrus) from having to pay port taxes. This would not make any sense if this passage was connected with Antiochus Cyzicenus’ second campaign against the Judeans, when they were laying siege to Samaria. Conversely, this tax exemption makes perfect sense if the Judean embassy to Rome was meant to ask for reparations following Antiochus’ initial campaign against Judea – a military expedition which targeted its coastal areas and did not involve Ptolemy. Let us not forget that in 113/12, Antiochus IX had managed to gain control of a large part of the Levant, and that his territory extended all the way to Ascalon in the south and Damascus in the hinterland.118 In other words, I agree with Menahem Stern, Israel Shatzman, and Chris Seeman, that Antiochus Cyzicenus waged a first large-scale military operation in Coele-Syria as early as 113/12, and that this expedition allowed him to conquer the Judean harbours, as well, perhaps, as Gazara and other places under Judean control.119 An 118 See Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 389. 119 Israel Shatzman writes: “As Menahem Stern has already shown about fifty years ago, Antiochus IX’s victories in 113 and the first part of 112 gave him control of Syria including Joppa and the Jewish ports referred to in the senate’s decree; his military achievements in those years perfectly accord with what is ascribed to him in the senate’s decree, which has therefore to be dated ca. 113” (Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy,” 65–66, where he refers to M. Stern, Studies in Jewish History: The Second Temple Period [Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 1991], 88–93 [Heb., first published 1961]). See also B. Bar-Kochva, Pseudo-Hecataeus, On the Jews: Legitimizing the Jewish Diaspora (Berkeley–Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 291–292; Seeman, Rome and Judea in Transition, 197. It is worth noting that, at the time of the clash between the Judeans and Antiochus IX, or perhaps afterwards, Gazara seems to lose some of its appeal. In fact, the site seems to have been almost entirely abandoned towards the end of the second centu-

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examination of the coins found at Beer-Sheba, Marisa, Sichem, Mount Gerizim and Samaria shows that the power of Antiochus IX extended as far as Idumea and Samaria, right on the doorstep of Judea.120 It seems that Hyrcanus sent an embassy to Rome asking for the return of his lost territories, and that the Senate’s answer to this request was the senatus consultum reproduced in the decree from Pergamon (Ant. 14.247–250). Chris Seeman emphasizes, after Israel Shatzman, that a senatus consultum ordering that the coastal Judean possessions should be respected was welcome in this context.121 However, he does not say whether John Hyrcanus considered this decree to be a precondition that had to be fulfilled, before he could conquer the cities of Transjordan, Samaria and Idumea, as Israel Shatzman argues. According to Shatzman, the fact that the senatus consultum explicitly showed that Judea had the support of Rome was a decisive factor in John Hyrcanus’ decision to launch on his policy of conquest.122 The fact that Josephus observes that Hyrcanus started being open about his real intentions after his (first) conflict with Antiochus IX also suggests that it is only from that point onwards that Hyrcanus started to take his wars of conquest beyond the areas which had been under Judean control since the days of Simon.123 The archaeological data confirms this interpretation. With the exception of the Transjordanian sites of Medeba and Samoga, on which we lack archaeological data,124 the archaeological excavations carried out in the areas that John Hyrcanus ry B.C.E., although it was in occupation again during the Herodian period. This is explained by the fact that Gazara was no longer a strategic city in the kingdom of Jannaeus; see B.-Z. Rosen­ feld, “The ‘Boundary of Gezer’ Inscriptions and the History of Gezer at the End of the Second Temple Period,” IEJ 38 (1988), 235–245 (esp. 242). 120 See the bibliographical references listed in the footnotes below for each one of these sites. 121 Seeman, ibid.; Shatzman, “The Integration of Judaea,” 67–69. 122 Conversely, Gérald Finkielsztejn considers that John Hyrcanus only sought the support of Rome after wrestling victory over Samaria and Scythopolis, when he was in a position of strength. According to him, the Ptolemy that is mentioned in Ant. 14.250 should be identified as Ptolemy X Alexander I, and the senatus consultum should therefore be dated to 107–104 B.C.E. (as Reinach argued before him in “Antiochus Cyzicène et les Juifs”). See Finkielsztejn, “More Evi­ dence on John Hyrcanus I’s Conquests. Lead Weights and Rhodian Amphora Stamps,” Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 16 (1998): 33–63 (see p. 51), and my discussion (infra). 123 It is possible to think that what brought about this turning point was the implicit view that these wars were legitimate since they were being waged in response to the Seleucid king’s deliberate acts of aggression (even though the territories conquered by Hyrcanus were not limited to those that Antiochus had seized). We do not know whether the decree of the Senate had any impact, but this seems unlikely. According to Théodore Reinach, Judea only regained control of Joppa and the surrounding coastal area under Aristobulus, or at the start of the reign of Jannaeus (“Antiochus Cyzicène et les Juifs,” 170–171). 124 Chris Seeman suggests that they were conquered long before the other regions under discussion, but he does not provide any conclusive evidence to this effect. Uriel Rappaport considers that in the absence of any archaeological evidence to the contrary, we should abide

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conquered, show that Josephus does not provide an accurate account of the chronology of these conquests. Instead, the archaeological data show that his military operations against Sichem, Mount Gerizim, Idumea, Samaria and Scythopolis (as well as against other areas not mentioned by Josephus) took place in the years 112– 107, or even 111–107 B.C.E.125 In Sichem, the last coin recovered from the strata which preceded John Hyrcanus’ destruction of the city comes from Ptolemais and dates from 112/11.126 On the site of Mount Gerizim, the last dated coins which are not Hasmonean go back to the year 112/11 or 111/10 B.C.E.127 The city was burned down and a Judean garrison set up its quarters there in 111/10 at the latest, probably in order to ensure that the Samaritans would not rebuild a temple there. The archaeological data on the site of Maresha (Marisa) paint a more complex picture.128 This thoroughly Hellenised city was the main commercial and administrative centre in Idumea. However, Seleucid coins vanished from the site around 113/112 B.C.E., while inscriptions also disappeared from its many funerary vaults around 112/111 B.C.E., even if we find some inscriptions linked to the “Sidonians” until at least 103 B.C.E. The nature of the damage Hyrcanus inflicted on the city during its conquest is unclear: out of the 61 coins discovered on the site at the time of the 1993 publication of the NEAEHL article, 25 were Hyrcanian and 19 Seleucid, which seems to suggest the presence of Judeans in the city after the conquest. Michael Avi-Yonah and Gérald Finkielsztejn both argue that Hyrcanus did not destroy the city. According to Avi-Yonah, the city came under Hasmonean occupation and acquired an “oriental character” (what he means by this is

Josephus’ narrative (The House of the Hasmoneans, 257–261). However, we could also emphasize the close connection that Josephus establishes between the conquests of Medeba, Samoga, Sichem, Mount Gerizim, and the Idumean cities of Adora and Marisa, since he alludes to them all at once. 125 For a long time, historians unquestioningly accepted Josephus’ assertion that the conquests started in 129/28 B.C.E., as Israel Shatzman reminds us in “The Expansionist Policy,” 35. However, Menahem Stern doubted that so many conquests could have taken place over such a short period of time – i. e. in 129–128 B.C.E. (Studies in Jewish History, 84–85). Martin Hengel already dated the conquest of Maresha to 110 B.C.E., based on the archaeological data available at the time (Judaism and Hellenism [London. SCM Press, 1974], 1:62 and 2:44–45). On the dating of the conquests of John Hyrcanus based on archaeological evidence, see in particular D. Barag, “New Evidence on the Foreign Policy of John Hyrcanos I,” INJ 12 (1992–3): 1–12. 126 These coins were found in section T of the excavation site. See G. E. Wright, Shechem. The Biography of a Biblical City (New York–Toronto. McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1965), 171– 184; Barag, ibid., 7; Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence,” 41; Safrai, “The Gentile Cities of Judea,” 69. 127 See Yitzhak Magen’s article in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (ed. E. Stern et al.; Jerusalem. The Israel Exploration Society, 1993), 2:484–492; idem, Mount Gerizim Excavations, Vol. 2. A Temple City (Jerusalem. Israel Antiquities Authority, 2008), 126–128. 76 coins minted by John Hyrcanus have been found, as well as 519 coins minted by Alexander Jannaeus (Magen, Mount Gerizim Excavations, 170–171, 178).  128 Little is known about Adora.

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not very clear).129 It is however important to distinguish between the upper and lower parts of the city: while the former was occupied, the latter was abandoned in the wake of the Hasmonean conquest.130 The discovery of weights bearing Greek inscriptions linked with the agoranomos Agathokles and dated to 108/7 B.C.E. has led Gérald Finkielsztejn to suggest that the conquest of Marisa may have taken place in two stages: according to him, the city was conquered for the first time in 111/10; the Seleucid troops then briefly took it back (and the city’s Hellenized population returned), until the Hasmoneans reconquered it in 107.131 Finkielsztejn bases his reconstruction on archaeological, epigraphic and numismatic data, as well as on an obscure passage, in which Josephus explains that John Hyrcanus attacked and laid siege to Samaria “for he hated the Samaritans as scoundrels because of the injuries which, in obedience to the kings of Syria, they had done to the people of Marisa, who were colonists and allies of the Jews (προσβαλὼν δ᾿ αὐτῇ φιλοπόνως ἐπολιόρκει μισοπονηρῶν τοῖς Σαμαρεῦσιν ὑπὲρ ὧν Μαρισηνοὺς ἀποίκους ὄντας Ἰουδαίων καὶ συμμάχους ἠδίκησαν ὑπακούοντες τοῖς τῶν Σύρων βασιλεῦσιν)” (Ant. 13.275, Marcus, LCL, 365–367). Gérald Finkielsztejn infers from these lines that settlers had been settled in Marisa but were then expelled by the Samaritans, who were allied with the Seleucids, and that Hyrcanus sought to punish them for having entered into this alliance.132 The identity of these settlers nevertheless remains unclear: the fact that they are described as “allies of the Judeans” seems to imply that they were not Judean themselves. It is also difficult to see how the people of Samaria could have led a military intervention in Idumea, with Judea sandwiched in between these two regions. It seems more logical to interpret these lines to mean that Idumean settlers who had adopted the Judean religious beliefs and lifestyle,133 had established themselves in the Samaritan region at the instigation of the Judeans after the fall of Sichem and of the area around Mount Gerizim, but had come under attack from

129 See M. Avi-Yonah and A. Kloner, “Maresha,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, 3:948–957 (see Avi-Yonah’s conclusion in “Chronology,” p. 951: “With the Hasmonean conquest, the city took on a typically oriental character. Gabinius changed nothing except the government and the composition of the population, nor did he build anything, except perhaps the temple itself ”). See also Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence,” 47. 130 Ibid., 953. 131 See Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence;” on the weights themselves, see idem, “Chapter 8. The Scale Weights from Maresha. Metrology, Administration and History,” in A. Kloner et al., Maresha Excavations Final Report, III. Epigraphic Finds from the 1989–2000 Seasons (Israel Antiquities Authority Reports No 45; ed. A. Kloner et al.; Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010), 173–192. 132 See also Barag, “New Evidence,” 11. 133 See infra, § 3.1.

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the population of the city of Samaria.134 Assuming that the Judeans did settle the Idumeans who had rallied to them in the Samaritan region, these Idumeans could be identified (rightly or wrongly) as coming from Marisa, the most prominent city of Idumea. If this was the case, there would be nothing odd about using the term “Marisenians” to refer to them. Indeed, this would constitute the most straightforward interpretation of these lines by Josephus, especially since the manuscript tradition is unanimous on the use of the word “Marisen(i)ous”.135 However, this would imply that Idumea was conquered some time before Samaria. Whatever the case may be, these lines from Ant. 13.275 do not provide us with the reliable information necessary for the reconstruction of the events that unfolded in Marisa itself.136 Marisa does not seem to have been genuinely destroyed, and the presence of an agoranomos may simply reveal that for practical purposes some institutions endured and were tolerated by the Hasmonean authorities. As for the city of Samaria, Josephus claims that the Judean armies laid siege to it on two occasions, and Dan Barag dates its fall to 110. However, this date needs to be revised.137 Rhodian amphora were still attested in Scythopolis until early 108, according to Gérald Finkielsztejn, who also notes that some of the amphora discovered on this site had been burned, which seems to confirm the hypothesis that the city met with a violent end.138 Since, according to Josephus, Samaria and Scythopolis both fell within a short space of time, it seems likely that their 134 See Ralph Marcus’ suggestion that “Marisa” should be read “Samaria,” and that “Samaria” should be understood to refer to a portion of the Samaritan territory (Josephus. Jewish Antiquities XII–XIII, LCL, 366 n. a). A confusion between the part of the Samaritan territory which was colonised by the Judeans and the city of Samaria, might have led Josephus or his source to make an erroneous correction. The problem, as Israel Shatzman points out, is that the text does not actually mention Marisa, but Marisēnous (“The Expansionist Policy,” 39). According to Marcus, Avi-Yonah came up with the most plausible interpretation when he suggested that this word should be corrected as Gerasēnous, meaning the population of Gerasa, a city 35 km to the south east of Samaria (M. Avi-Yonah, “’Samaria’ and ‘Marisa’ of Antiquities XIII, 275,” Bulletin of the Israel Exploration Society 16 (1951). 29–31). Be this as it may, my own interpretation makes it possible to keep the name Marisenous. 135 See Niese, Flavii Iosephi Opera (Berlin: Weidmann, 1892), 3:202 (PF: μαρισηνιουσ; V: μαρισσηνιουσ). Aryeh Kasher agrees (Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 125). 136 In his most recent report, Amos Kloner thinks that the lower city was probably abandoned in either 111 or 108 B.C.E., following its conquest by Hyrcanus (Kloner et al., Maresha Excavations Final Report, III. Epigraphic Finds from the 1989–2000 Seasons, 205). Israel Shatzman recently suggested that the fall of Marisa may have been a single event, which he dates to 108/7 B.C.E., on the grounds that the fact that no coins and weights dating from between 112/11 and 108/7 B.C.E. were found at the site does not necessarily mean that it fell to the Hasmoneans as early as 111–10 B.C.E. (see “The Expansionist Policy”). This matter is far from settled. 137 Barag, “New Evidence,” 11. 138 Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence,” 50. See also Y. Landau and W. Tzaferis, “Tel Istabah, Beth Shean: The Excavations and Hellenistic Jar Handles,” IEJ 29 (1979): 152–159; R. Bar-Nathan and G. Mazor, “Beth-Shean during the Hellenistic Period,” Qadmoniot 107–8 (1994): 87– 91. Donald T. Ariel dates the destruction of Scythopolis–Tel Istabbah to 108 B.C.E. in “Stamped

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fall should be dated to circa 108–107 B.C.E.139 Although Josephus may of course be mistaken, the geographical proximity of the two cities makes it plausible to surmise that they may have been destroyed during the same campaign. Josephus claims that Samaria was so thoroughly razed that it was impossible to tell that a city had once stood there: however, archaeological investigations of the site do not corroborate these assertions, but show instead that the city incurred limited damage and that its walls were only partially destroyed.140 Excavations carried out in the Negev have also made it possible to add another town to the list of cities conquered by John Hyrcanus after 112/11 B.C.E.: BeerSheba, located in what was Idumea at the time. No coins dating from after 112/11 and before 4/3 B.C.E. have been recovered in Beer-Sheba. It seems that the temple was destroyed and the site was left abandoned for a long period of time.141 Built around 200 B.C.E., the temple of Lachish seems to have also been destroyed around the second century B.C.E., probably while Hyrcanus was conquering Idumea.142 Villages, farms and small fortresses also came under Hasmonean control in Idumea, in the northern Negev and in western Samaria.143 Archaeological excavations carried out in Jotapata (Yodfat) in southern Galilee also show that around the end of the second century B.C.E., in the wake of battles that Mordechai Aviam dates Amphora Handles from Beth-She’an: Evidence for the Development of the City in the Hellenistic Period,” in Transport Amphorae and Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean (J. Eiring and J. Lund, ed.; Aarhus–Athens: Aarhus University Press–Danish Institute, 2004), 24–31. 139 Israel Shatzman envisages two possibilities: either the fall of Scythopolis came before Samaria’s (respectively in the spring and the autumn of 108), or the fall of Samaria dates back to the winter of 108 and that of Scythopolis to the spring of 107; see “The Expansionist Policy,” 41–42. 140 See Safrai, “The Gentile Cities of Judea,” 70–72. Cf. G. A. Reisner et al., Harvard Excavations at Samaria 1908–1910 (Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 1924), 50–54, 252–273 (influenced by Josephus, the authors argue that these remains are from the city that Gabinius rebuilt, but they present no solid archaeological evidence beyond the fact that certain coins date from the period between 108 and 60 B.C.E.); J. W. Crowfoot et al., The Objects from Samaria (London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1957), for example p. 274 (note by G. M. Crowfoot, “Megarian Bowls”): “Both expeditions provide evidence for Megarian ware in the second century B.C. and for its continuance, though in slight quantity, throughout the first century B.C.” Nevertheless, at the time of this publication there was still no coherent plan of the Hellenistic city, and the book’s editor noted on p. 4 that “fragments of the fortifications, the round towers and the fort walls, are the only buildings we have found”.  141 See Barag, “New Evidence,” 6; Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy,” 42. In his discussion of what he calls the “removal of pagan symbols,” Shatzman cites R. Giveon, “Egyptian Objects in Bronze and Faience,” in Beer-Sheba I. Excavations at Tel Beer-Sheba, 1969–1971 Seasons (ed. Y. Aharoni; Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv Institute of Archaeology, 1973), 54–55. However, Giveon does not evoke deliberate acts of vandalism. Although the objects he describes are sometimes broken, there is nothing to indicate that they were deliberately destroyed. 142 See Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence,” 48 and 55, n. 6; A. Faust and A. Erlich, Kh. A-Rasm (British Archaeological Reports; Oxford: Archaeopress, 2011), 253–254; Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy,” 42–43. 143 Shatzman, ibid.

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to the period of John Hyrcanus, Jewish or Judaised people had taken the place of the earlier polytheistic population.144 In summary, it is now well-established that John Hyrcanus fought his major wars of conquest in the period between 112/11 and 107 B.C.E., when the brothers Antiochus VIII and Antiochus IX were at loggerheads. It also seems that the latter saw his position weaken as early as 112/11,145 which would help to explain why John Hyrcanus decided to launch these conquests. Although the pro-Judean senatus consultum may have been partly responsible for this policy, as Israel Shatzman argues, it seems doubtful that this was a decisive factor, since the steadfast indifference that Rome showed towards Judean affairs throughout the second century cannot have escaped the attention of Hyrcanus. Rome had its hands full at the time, waging wars against the Germanic tribes, on the one hand, and ­Jugurtha, the King of Numidia, on the other. Indeed, Rome did not even intervene to upbraid the troublesome Mithridates VI of Pontus, when he failed to comply with a Roman ultimatum asking him to leave Paphlagonia, which he had invaded in 107 B.C.E.146 The fact that Rome was busy waging wars on so many different fronts may actually have played as big a part as the senatus consultum in convincing Hyrcanus that he had his hands free.147

The motivations of John Hyrcanus

The political landscape in the Levant, in the Seleucid kingdom as a whole, and in the Mediterranean basin more widely, was thus a major factor in the policy of John Hyrcanus. However, this landscape did not motivate his wars of conquest, so much as influence their timing. The expansionist policy of John Hyrcanus evidently had multiple causes, and scholars have come up with numerous explanations for his policy. Hyrcanus’ actions have traditionally been seen to exhibit his ambition and greed. However, Bezalel Bar-Kochva challenged this notion with a demographic interpretation as early as 1977. In his view, John Hyrcanus and his successors were led to conquer new territories by the need to create new settlements for the Judean population, which was too large for the amount of land available in Judea itself.148 These two 144 See M. Aviam, “Yodfat: Uncovering a Jewish City in the Galilee from the Second Temple Period and the Time of the Great Revolt,” Qadmoniot 118 (1999): 92–101 (Heb.). 145 See E. Dabrowa, “Samarie entre Jean Hyrcan et Antiochos IX Cyzicène,” Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 60 (2007): 447–459 (see p. 451). 146 See Will, Histoire politique du monde hellénistique, 2:473. 147 Cf. M. Stern, “Judaea and her Neighbors in the Days of Alexander Jannaeus,” The Jerusalem Cathedra, (1981), 1:22–46: “Direct Roman intervention in the affairs of Syria at the end of the second century and the beginning of the first century BCE was only minimal” (p. 28). 148 See B. Bar-Kochva, “Manpower, Economics, and Internal Strife in the Hasmonean State,” in Armées et fiscalité dans le monde antique (Paris: Éditions du CNRS, 1977), 167–196. Shimon Applebaum agrees with him on this point in “The Hasmoneans: Logistics, Taxation and

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types of motivations (Hyrcanus’ quest for power and riches, on the one hand, and the needs of his people, on the other) are not mutually exclusive and may have been coextensive. Thus, Josephus tells us that Hyrcanus accumulated great riches, but also describes the prosperity of the Judeans during his high priesthood, not only within Judea itself, but also in Egypt, as though his governance benefited them everywhere (Ant. 13.273–284). However, a certain number of scholars consider that religion was a significant factor for Hyrcanus’ policy, beyond his political, military and socio-economic motivations.149 This leaves open the question of whether Hyrcanus’ policy also had politico-religious motivations, such as the desire to safeguard the ritual purity of the land or reconquer the land that God had promised to Abraham. For Aryeh Kasher, the answer to this question is of course a resounding “yes”. According to him, Josephus based his account of the wars waged by Hyrcanus on the work of Hellenistic historians, who were hostile to the Hasmonean leader and keen to portray him as hounding the cities of Syria: … as if the latter were the innocent victims of arbitrary Jewish aggression which exploited the opportune moment when those cities were empty of fighting forces (J.W. 1.62; Ant. 13.254). For some reason Josephus – or, more precisely, the Hellenistic source on which he based his testimony (apparently Nicolaus of Damascus) – refrained from listing John Hyrcanus’ principal motives for these campaigns. These motives, as stated above, included the religious precept of purging the Land of Israel of idolatrous abomination; the nationalist and political ambition to restore “the inheritance of Jewish ancestors” (1 Macc 15:33); and the desire to avenge himself on the enemies of Israel for their part in the persecution of the Jews since the time of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. At the same time, it is unlikely that John Hyrcanus utterly ignored considerations of the sort ascribed to him by Josephus, even though these were certainly not his main considerations. In short, Josephus’ presentation of this matter may be said to be the sort of half-truth which is blacker than any lie. (Kasher, “The Changes in Manpower,” 345)150

This analysis – which is a perfect illustration of my account, in the previous section of this second part of the book, of the often wary reception of the work of the Judean historian – is in fact largely based on what I have shown in Part I to be a rather shaky and indeed far-fetched interpretation of 1 Macc 15:33–35. In his account of the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus, Josephus makes no reference to the type of politico-religious motivations that Aryeh Kasher attribthe Constitution,” in idem, Judaea in Hellenistic and Roman Times: Historical and Archaeological Essays (Leiden: Brill, 1989), 9–29. Eyal Regev has also developed the same argument more recently in The Hasmoneans. 149 See in particular Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State, 76–77; Shatzman, “Jews and Gentiles from Judas Maccabaeus to John Hyrcanus According to Contemporary Jewish Sources”. 150 See also Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 119.

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utes to him. However, the motif of the Hasmonean leader’s desire to seek revenge against “the enemies of Israel” does crop up in the work of Josephus. In the Loeb Classical Library, Thackeray translates the Greek καιρὸν ἀμύνης in J.W. 1.62 with the phrase “an opportunity for revenge” (against Antiochos VII, and the Seleucids and their allies more generally), even though the word ἄμυνα has defensive connotations, in fact.151 Thackeray’s translation is justified by the fact that the expedition that Hyrcanus launched against the cities of Transjordan hardly appears to have been a defensive operation. It would have been easier to perceive Hyrcanus’ military campaigns in this light, if he had focused on the need to rid Joppa and the coastal region of Seleucid garrisons, and bring these places back under Judean control. However, as far as we know, the cities of Medeba and Samoga had never been the focus of a territorial dispute with the Seleucids, and had never attacked the Judeans either.152 It is also not clear whether the expeditions that Hyrcanus launched against the other localities mentioned by Josephus were defensive of vengeful: had these places supported the military offensive of Antiochus VII against Judea? This possibility cannot be excluded in the case of Samaria. In any case, the chronology that Josephus sets out is not tenable, in so far as Hyrcanus’ wars of conquest cannot be dated to the years that followed the death of Antiochus VII. Chris Seeman, who finds it odd that Josephus should not mention Hyrcanus’ motivations, argues that the Judean historian provides us with a franker account of these events in the version that he presents in Antiquities: “John attacked his neighbors for the simple reason that there was no one to prevent him. Josephus, then, presupposes an expansionist impulse on the part of John.”153 In other words, Josephus’ narrative corroborates Seth Schwartz’s view that the Hasmoneans launched into a policy of conquest simply because they had the opportunity to do so.154 151 Similarly, in his French translation of War, Pierre Savinel translates these words with the phrase “une occasion de se venger” (p. 128). 152 Because these were located in Transjordan, it is also not clear whether or not they were part of the land of Israel. According to Jonathan A. Goldstein, the reason for the conquest of Medeba and Samoga is that Hyrcanus and his supporters believed that they had to accomplish the prophecies on the fall of Moab, as set out in Num 24:17–24; Isa 11:14–16 and 25:9–12; Jer 30:18–31:15; 48:1–49:22; Am 9:12; Zeph 2:4–10; as well as Obadiah (who makes no reference to Moab). These texts mention victories over Moab and/or other neighbouring populations, such as the Edomites; some of them also speak of victories over coastal peoples, such as the Gileadites, etc., although Hyrcanus did not conquer these areas. In other words, there is something arbitrary about the way in which Goldstein supports his argument, picking and choosing biblical passages, which in any case include oracles against all of the neighbours of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah. In the absence of any specific allusions or correspondences in the sources, the notion that Hyrcanus’ conquests were dictated by a map of prophecies seems rather unconvincing. See Goldstein, “The Hasmonean Revolt and the Hasmonean Dynasty”. 153 Seeman, Rome and Judea in Transition, 176. 154 Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 40.

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However, Seth Schwartz himself observes the importance of the destruction of the sanctuary of Mount Gerizim, which, along with the destruction of Sichem, takes place during one of the very first campaigns of John Hyrcanus.155 Significantly, the first sanctuary to have been destroyed – and the only destruction of a temple that Josephus explicitly attributes to John Hyrcanus156 – was an institution which rivalled the temple of Jerusalem, and which, far from celebrating an idolatrous cult, was dedicated to YHWH, who was as much the God of the Samaritans as the Judeans. As such, it is not possible to suggest that this destruction exhibited Hyrcanus’ wish to rid the land of Israel of idolatrous practices.157 Edward ­Dabrowa argues that the destruction of the temple of Mount Gerizim had an “obvious” theological dimension for the population of Judea, “especially if we take into account the fact that the sanctuary of Mount Gerizim was destroyed on 21 Kislev, and that 25 Kislev was the anniversary of the consecration of the temple by Judas Maccabeus.”158 However, since Dabrowa follows the date suggested in Megillat Ta‘anit, it might be worth exploring the possibility that it was the author of the Megillah who drew a parallel between these two events, in order to emphasize the theological significance of the destruction of the Samaritan temple.159 In any case, the “theological” impact of the destruction of the temple was eminently political. Considering the central role that the temple of Jerusalem played in the legitimation of the Hasmonean dynasty according to 1 Maccabees, it is clear that the destruction of the Samaritan sanctuary bolstered both the prominence of the temple of Jerusalem and the Hasmonean dynasty’s control of Samaria, by getting rid of everything that could have fostered resistance and independence movements (hence also 155 According to John Collins, the fragment from Theodotus transmitted by Eusebius (P. Ev. 9.22.1–11), who rewrote the episode of Simon and Levi’s massacre of the population of Shechem (Gen 34), reflects the nationalism of the Hasmonean era, and indeed perhaps of John Hyrcanus’ project (J. J. Collins, “The Epic of Theodotus and the Hellenism of the Hasmoneans,” HTR 73 [1980]: 91–104; esp. 100). Although the text is explicitly hostile to the Sichemites, a reference to a specific historical event is not necessary to explain this point of view. 156 This does not mean that other sanctuaries were not destroyed; see supra, footnotes 141 and 142 on the temples of Beer-Sheba and Lachish. However, Josephus is only interested in the destruction of the Samaritan temple. 157 It is difficult to see on what evidence Ben Zion Luria bases his claim that Hyrcanus conquered Samaria in order to rid it of idolatry; see Luria, “Was the Hasmonean State Secular in Orientation?,” Dor le Dor 12/2 (1983–1984): 104–111 and 12/3 (1984): 186–193 (esp. 189). 158 Original French text: “surtout si l’on tient compte du fait que le sanctuaire du Mont Garizim fut détruit le 21 Kislev, alors que c’est le 25 Kislev qu’avait lieu l’anniversaire de la consécration du temple de Jérusalem par Judas Maccabée” (Dabrowa, “Samarie,” 449, note 3). See also idem, The Hasmoneans and their State, 76: “… it was a fully deliberate act intended to raze a religious center that had long competed with the Jerusalem temple.” 159 Supposing that, contrary to what the scholion says, the date of 21 Kislev does in fact correspond to the destruction of the sanctuary of Mount Gerizim, and not to the episode which took place in the days of Alexander the Great. See V. Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit, 100–103 (Heb.), and the discussion of Megillat Ta‘anit in Part III of this book.

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the destruction of Sichem).160 According to Seth Schwartz, the reason there is no evidence, in the available sources, of either a Samaritan opposition to the Hasmoneans or a Hasmonean polemic against the Samaritans, is that at the time of the Maccabean crisis, at least some of the priests of the temple of Mount Gerizim had allowed themselves to become Hellenized, but part of the population rejected Greek Hellenization and may have felt closer to the supporters of the Maccabean revolt. Indeed, the Samaritan nomes annexed to Judea under the rule of Jonathan may have been populated in part by Samaritans who had rallied to the cult celebrated in the temple of Jerusalem.161 Certainly, whether or not the Samaritans were split along these lines and a segment of their population had pro-Hasmonean sympathies, Hyrcanus’ destruction of the sanctuary of Mount Gerizim put an end to any possibility that it might rival the temple of Jerusalem.162 As for the largely Hellenized city of Samaria, where a Macedonian garrison was stationed, there is no reason to doubt Josephus’ claim that it had a close relationship with the Seleucids, which meant that it was politically at odds with Judea.163 In the case of Idumea, the Judeans and Idumeans had been crossing swords with each other since at least the Maccabean revolt, according to 1 Maccabees, in which Judas is described launching punitive expeditions in Idumea (1 Macc 5:3.65–67; see also 2 Macc 12:32–38). Located at the border between Idumea and Judea, the citadel of Beth-Zur was of strategic importance, and the ancestors of Hyrcanus had conquered it on several occasions (Judas in 1 Macc 4:29–35.61; Simon in 160 See Part I. On the connection between the temple of Jerusalem and the Hasmonean dynasty, see also Regev, The Hasmoneans (esp. chapter 2). 161 Schwartz, “John Hyrcanus I’s Destruction of the Gerizim Temple,” Jewish History 7/1 (1993): 9–25. 162 Christiane Saulnier, who considered that the “conversion” of the Idumeans was an attempt to get rid of a rival cult worshipping the God Cos (Qos), argued that: “On peut supposer une attitude analogue à l’égard des Iduméens qui n’ont sans doute pas été astreints à la circoncision mais obligés d’adopter les mœurs juives pour abandonner leur dieu Qozah, dont on sait que le culte était desservi par des familles influentes (Ant. XV, 253–254). Par conséquent il semble bien que l’affirmation du prosélytisme couvre en fait une politique d’élimination de cultes rivaux potentiels” (“Le cadre politico-religieux en Palestine, de la révolte des Maccabées à l’intervention romaine,” in Il Giudaismo palestinese: dal 1 secolo a.C. al 1 secolo d.C. (ed. P. Sacchi; Bologna: AISG, 1993), 199–211; the quotation is on p. 207). See also R. A. Horsley, “The Expansion of Hasmonean Rule in Idumea and Galilee: Toward a Historical Sociology,” in Second Temple Studies III. Studies in Politics, Class and Material Culture (Ph. Davies and J. M. Halligan, ed.; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 134–165 (esp. 148 and 151). I shall return to the issue of these “conversions” in the following section (§ 3). However, it seems to me that the case of the Idumeans is very different from that of the Samaritans, because the former had a “foreign” cult, whereas the Samaritans worshipped the God of Israel. 163 The different retellings of the rape of Dinah (Gen 34) in the work of Theodotus or in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (T. Levi 5–7) may suggest that the animosity between the Judeans and the Shechemites endured; however, these works are difficult to date, and it seems arbitrary to assign them to the Hasmonean context. See also supra, footnote 155.

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1 Macc 11:65 and 14:7.33). More generally, Idumea as a whole was a key military region, since offensives against Judea were often launched from there. As I have already observed, Josephus does not state that Hyrcanus deliberately destroyed the temples of the cities and territories that he conquered, except in the case of Mount Gerizim. However, archaeological excavations have shown that local sanctuaries were destroyed in some sites, notably in Idumea.164 That this destruction was the result of a systematic attempt to eradicate polytheistic cults is likely, even if the data also invites other interpretations. In the absence of any evidence for the systematic desecration of other divinities, such as profaned statues, the destruction of a sanctuary located inside a city which was itself ravaged by war may have been no more than collateral damage. However, it is possible that ritual objects were deliberately destroyed in Beer-Sheba.165 Hyrcanus probably tried to rid the enlarged Judean territory of its sanctuaries, both in order to eradicate poly­ theistic practices (there is indeed no reason to doubt the distaste of the Judean high priest towards cults other than his own) and to assert the supremacy of the temple of Jerusalem. However, it is not possible to say that Hyrcanus massacred non-Judean populations in order to rid the “land of Israel” of idol worshippers: not only is the practice of ․herem warfare not attested, but the archaeological data do not suggest that the sites of Samaria and Idumea were systematically abandoned.166 On the contrary, going against the biblical prescriptions regarding the Canaanites, Hyrcanus offered the Idumeans the possibility of becoming politically and religiously integrated within the Judean society, as we shall see later (§ 3 infra). The wars waged by John Hyrcanus thus appear to have been motivated by a complex set of strategic, economic, and politico-religious considerations. The fact that under Jonathan, Simon and John Hyrcanus, the Judean economy had no access to goods from the coastal cities (ceramic, wine, etc.) and had become somewhat “autarkic,” was probably due in part to a political, cultural and religious antagonism.167 However, the politico-religious dimension of this conflict does not mean that these Hasmonean leaders attempted to reconquer the land of Israel and rid it of gentiles, so much as it suggests that they sought to assert the pre-eminence of the temple of Jerusalem, which lay at the foundation of their power. 164 See supra, footnote 141 and 142. 165 Although R. Giveon mentions broken and damaged objects, there is nothing to suggests that they were deliberately destroyed; see “Egyptian Objects in Bronze and Faience,” in Beer-­Sheba I. Excavations at Tel Beer-Sheba, 1969–1971 Seasons, 54–55. 166 According to Seth Schwartz, part of the population of Samaria may have been sold into slavery (Imperialism and Jewish Society, 38). Concerning Idumea, however, Andrea M. Berlin observes that “occupation did in fact continue at most Idumean sites, such as Tel ‘Ira and Tel H.alif ” (“Palestine in the Hellenistic Period: Between Large Forces,” Biblical Archaeologist 60/1 [1997]: 2–51; the quotation is on p. 31). 167 Berlin argues that “The archaeological remains manifest the segregation of the Jewish economy” (“Palestine in the Hellenistic Period: Between Large Forces,” 29).

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Considering the fact that the First Book of Maccabees is widely agreed to date from the rule of John Hyrcanus and to be a work of propaganda reflecting the views of the Hasmonean leader, it is significant that not only does it not refer to discourses on the reconquest of the promised land and the territorial reconstitution of the Davidic kingdom, but it does not paint a clear picture of the frontiers of the “land of Israel”. Some commentators consider that this means that the book predates the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus. However, if Hyrcanus had wanted to conquer the promised land, there is no reason why this project could not have been mentioned before he started waging his wars of conquest; indeed, Hyrcanus might even have wished to credit his father or uncle for this plan. Beyond 1 Maccabees, it is also significant that Josephus does not suggest that Hyrcanus entertained such a grand politico-religious design. Josephus clearly admired Hyrcanus. He describes him as a pious man who enjoyed a close relationship with God and was blessed in every way (Ant. 13.299–300). Indeed, he had even received the gift of prophecy: while officiating in the temple of Jerusalem, Hyrcanus heard a heavenly voice telling him of the victory of his sons against Antiochus Cyzicenus, and told the news to his people without waiting for their return (Ant. 13.282–283). In this episode, Josephus draws on a tradition attested in other Jewish sources.168 It could be argued that this image of John Hyrcanus as a man who had been specially anointed portrays him as the ideal executor of a divine design, or even as a messianic figure.169 However, despite this – at least partially – successful Hasmonean attempt to impress, neither Josephus nor the rabbinic sources suggest that God entrusted the Hasmonean leader with the task of reconquering the promised land, even when they recall his victories and portray him in an overall positive light170. This cannot be without significance.

2.2 Aristobulus I According to Josephus, Aristobulus I was the first Hasmonean to take the title of king. However, his reign did not last long: he ruled over Judea for roughly a year, and this may explain why Strabo thought that Jannaeus was the first Hasmonean king.171 In spite of the brevity of his reign, Aristobulus was responsible for new 168 Tosefta Sotah 13:5; y. Sotah 9:12 (24b); b. Sotah 33a; see also Schürer–Vermes–Millar, The History of the Jewish People, 1:210. Some of the Qumran manuscripts seem to reject the view that Hyrcanus had received the gift of prophecy (see Part III). 169 On this issue, see my discussion of 4QTestimonia in Part III. 170 For the rabbinic sources, see Part III. 171 Josephus’ account seems more reliable to me, for the following reasons: firstly, Strabo erroneously claims that Jannaeus exchanged his title as high priest for the title of king (in reality, Jannaeus kept his sacerdotal role). Secondly, Josephus, who belonged to the Jerusalem elite, was better informed on these issues than Strabo. Thirdly, I do not think that the numismatic ev-

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military exploits, on top of those which he had achieved with his brother Antigonus during his father’s lifetime. According to Josephus in Antiquities – whose own account is based on Timagenes, via Strabo – Aristobulus waged a victorious war against the Itureans, annexing a considerable portion of their territory to Judea, and forcing them “to be circumcised and to live according to the laws of the Judeans” if they wished to remain in place (Ant. 13.318).172 Before we focus on the issue of the so-called “conversion” of the Itureans (in § 3), we must begin by examining the nature of the “Iturean” territory and population. Some commentators consider that the territory that was conquered or acquired173 by Aristobulus was in northern Galilee. It seems perfectly logical that the Hasmoneans, who had already won several victories in Samaria, should have turned their attention to Galilee. Indeed, in War, Josephus makes an allusion which tends to corroborate the hypothesis that Aristobulus and his brother Antigonus launched military operations in Galilee, perhaps spurred by their victory in Scythopolis: when the ailing Aristobulus asked his brother to pay him a visit, Josephus states that Antigonus “had procured for himself some very fine armour and military decorations in Galilee” (J.W. 1.76; trans. Thackeray, LCL, 39). Some archaeological sites, such as the already mentioned site of Yodfat (Jotapata) bear the traces of armed conflicts in Lower Galilee, which may have taken place as early as under the rule of Hyrcanus. In Upper Galilee, excavations on the sites of Mitzpe Yamim and H. Beer-Sheba, which included “pagan” places of worship, have shown that statues of divinities and other objects connected with their cult were destroyed, leading some scholars to point the finger at the Hasmoneans.174 Mordechai Aviam idence shows that the opposite is true, despite Uriel Rappaport’s claims to the contrary in The House of the Hasmoneans, 272–275 and 324–327; and idem, “The Inscriptions on the Yehud and the Hasmonean Coins: Historical Perspectives,” in “See, I will bring a scroll recounting what befell me” (Ps 40:8): Epigraphy and Daily Life from the Bible to the Talmud Dedicated to the Memory of Professor Hanan Eshel [E. Eshel and Y. Levin, ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014], 143–158). It is possible that Aristobulus minted the coins that we know before taking the title of king a little later in the year. Moreover, the coins minted by Mattathias Antigonus, and dating from long after those by Aristobulus I and Jannaeus, show that bearing the title of king did not preclude using the inscription “X, high priest and h.ever ha-Yehudim”. In other words, the fact that this formula is inscribed on coins minted by Aristobulus I does not mean that he did not have the title of king. However, it is possible that the primary purpose of this title was to reinforce his status in the eyes of non-Judeans. 172 The military successes that Aristobulus met with during his reign are not mentioned in War. 173 Used in both § 318 (which is narrated by Josephus) and § 319 (which quotes Strabo quoting Timagenes), the ambiguous verb προσκτάομαι could refer to a negotiation rather than a conquest. See infra. 174 See R. Frankel et al., Settlement Dynamics and Regional Diversity in Ancient Upper Galilee: Archaeological Survey of Upper Galilee (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2001), 110. On Mizpe Yamim, see R. Frankel, “The Mispe Yamim Bronzes,” BASOR 311 (1998): 39–55; A. M. Berlin and R. Frankel, “The Sanctuary at Mizpe Yammim: Phoenician Cult and Territory

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has shown that various Galilean sites dating back to the Persian period were sacked and abandoned during the second century B.C.E., while new sites appeared where Hasmonean coins have been found. It is thus attested that the territory controlled by the Hasmoneans gradually extended to Galilee.175 And yet, Raphael Frankel, Nimrod Getzov, Mordechai Aviam, and Avi Degani argue that Mitzpe Yamim and H. Beer-Sheba were not Iturean sites, based on an analysis of their pottery and a comparison with data from the Iturean material culture attested in the vicinity of Mount Hermon. However, the association of the material culture of Mount Hermon with the Itureans has been challenged.176 As a consequence, one may simply suggest that the archaeological discoveries made in Galilee do not corroborate the hypothesis according to which the Itureans – as opposed to some other polytheistic group – lived in this region. According to Shimon Dar and Mordechai Aviam, and, after them, Julien Aliquot, E. A. Myers and Sean Freyne, no traces of the Itureans have in fact been found in Upper Galilee.177 This is therefore not the region where the Hasmoneans came across the Itureans.

in the Upper Galilee during the Persian Period,” BASOR 366 (2012): 25–78. Cf. S. Freyne, “Galilean Studies: Old Issues and New Questions,” in Religion, Ethnicity, and Identity in Ancient Galilee: A Region in Transition (ed. J. Zangenberg et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 13–29. 175 See M. Aviam, Jews, Pagans and Christians in the Galilee: 25 Years of Archaeological Excavations and Surveys, Hellenistic to Byzantine Periods (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2004), 41–50. See also idem, “Distribution Maps of Archaeological Data from the Galilee: An Attempt to Establish Zones Indicative of Ethnicity and Religious Affiliation,” in Religion, Ethnicity, and Identity in Ancient Galilee: A Region in Transition (ed. J. Zangenberg et al.; Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 115–132 (using a combination of indicators – such as evidence of a miqveh, the use of stone tools, funerary motifs, etc. – they have found evidence of a relatively homogeneous and stable Jewish presence in Galilee, from the second century B.C.E. to the ­Byzantine period). Their analysis is corroborated by Andrea Berlin, whose own research shows the emergence of what she calls “household Judaism” in this region (and in Judea) from the first century B.C.E. onwards (see Berlin, “Manifest Identity: From Ioudaios to Jew. Household Judaism as Anti-­Hellenization in the Late Hasmonean Era,” in Between Cooperation and Hostility: Multiple Identities in Ancient Judaism and the Interaction with Foreign Powers [R. Albertz and J. Wöhrle, ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013], 151–175). On the contribution of numismatics to the study of the Jewish presence in Galilee, see in particular D. Sion, “Numismatic Evidence of Jewish Presence in Galilee before the Hasmonean Annexation?,” Israel Numismatic Research 1 (2016): 21–24. 176 See Aliquot, “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban,” 202 and note 133 in particular. 177 Shimon Dar, “The Geographical Region of the Hasmonean-Iturean Encounter,” Cathedra 59 (1991): 3–11 (Heb.); idem, Settlements and Cult Sites on Mount Hermon, Israel: Iturean Culture in the Hellenistic and Roman Period (BAR 589; Oxford: Tempus Reparatum, 1993), 15–23 (esp. 19–20); Aviam, “Galilee,” NEAEHL, 2:453; idem, Jews, Pagans and Christians in the Galilee, 45. See also U. Leibner, Settlement and History in Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Galilee: An Archaeological Survey of the Eastern Galilee (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 321. For Sean Freyne, see for example “Galileans, Phoenicians, and Itureans: A Study of Regional Contrasts in the Hellenistic Age,” in Hellenism in the Land of Israel (ed. J. J. Collins and G. E. Sterling, ed.; Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001), 182–215 (esp. 205–208).

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The ancient sources generally locate the “Itureans” in the plain of the Beqa‘, either between Mount Lebanon and the Anti-Lebanon, or on their slopes.178 According to Shimon Dar, the Hasmoneans and Itureans did not clash in Upper Galilee, but somewhere between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, towards the beginning of the Beqa‘, not far from Mount Hermon and north Golan.179 This would 178 See in particular Strabo, Geography 16.2.18–20. René Dussaud identifies them with the biblical tribe of Yetur, mentioned in Gen 25:15 (where Yetur, a son of Ishmael, is located in Arabia), and in 1 Chr 1:31 (idem) and 5:19 (where Yetur and his tribe seem to be located in Transjordan). He argues that in the Roman era, the Itureans were settled in Anti-Lebanon, around their capital city, Chalcis, in the Beqa‘ (La pénétration des Arabes en Syrie avant l’islam [Paris: P. Geuthner, 1955], 176–178). Like Dussaud, Schürer–Vermes–Millar reject the notion, based on 1 Chronicles and Eusebius, that they were located in Trachonitis. As far as Aristobulus’ wars of conquest are concerned, they tentatively suggest that it is possible that Iturean settlements may have reached as far as Galilee (The History of the Jewish People, 1:561–573; esp. 564). Willy Schott­ roff develops a similar line of argument, but he understands Josephus’ account to mean that the Itureans controlled part of Galilee (“Die Ituräer,” ZPDV 98 [1982]: 125–152; esp. 130–137). Maurice Sartre considers that the Itureans were Arabs; however, he emphasizes the fact that, in the ancient sources, the ethnic definition of the word “Arab” is difficult to determine. He emits the hypothesis that the Itureans originally came from an area of Transjordan located between Amman to the south, and Mount Hermon to the north (D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 52, n. 84, and 54). In his thorough and discerning article on “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban,” Julien Ali­ quot formulates the hypothesis that the Itureans were Arabs who had become “aramaïsés,” and had settled in Lebanon as early as the second century B.C.E. at least (see 190–191). However, he shows just how weak the connection is between the Itureans and the biblical anthroponym Yetur (168–170). Instead, he reminds us, after Maurice Sartre, that the term “Arabe … est généralement utilisé par les auteurs classiques pour qualifier un mode de vie nomade, sans aucune référence ethnique particulière” (171). He locates the Itureans in the plain of the Beqa‘ “et dans ses montagnes bordières, c’est-à-dire au nord des territoires enlevés aux Séleucides par les Hasmonéens” (177), and rejects the possibility that they might have settled in Galilee (198–200). E. A. Myers considers that the Itureans were not of Arabic origin and that, not only is there no evidence of their presence in Galilee, but even in the Golan, the evidence of an Iturean presence is based on the problematic association of this people with a type of pottery known as “Golan Ware”; she also challenges the notion that the Itureans were “brigands” (The Ituraeans and the Roman Near East: Reassessing the Sources, Cambridge–New York–Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 2010). Zvi Uri Ma‘oz, on the contrary, holds the view that the Itureans were Arabs, and, contradicting most of the recent research on this people, he asserts that they had settled not only in the Golan, but also in Upper Galilee, and even in parts of Lower Galilee (Itur in Galilee [Qazrin: Archaostyle, 2011]). He identifies 68 sites in the Golan dating from the second century B.C.E., including 33 Iturean sites. He argues that there were as many as 67 Iturean sites in total during the Hellenistic and Roman periods, 50 of which remained active until the Byzantine period (“Golan: Hellenistic Period to the Middle Ages,” NEAEHL, 2:534–536). On the location of their capital city, Chalcis, see also Er. Will, „Un vieux problème de la topographie de la Beqā‘ antique: Chalcis du Liban,“ Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 99 (1983): 141–146. On the Iturean dynasty in the first century B.C.E., see C.-G. Schwentzel, “La propagande des princes de Chalcis d’après les monnaies,” ZDPV 125/1 (2009): 64–75. 179 Dar, “The Geographical Region,” 10–11. Pace Shatzman, “The Integration of Judaea into the Roman Empire,” 72, according to whom Aristobulus “conquered a great part of the Iturean territory, i. e., the Galilee, and Judaized the local population in his one-year reign; some

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mean that Aristobulus’ military expeditions took him to a region far to the north, where he probably concluded an alliance with the Itureans. As we shall see later, it makes no sense to speak of the “conversion” or “Judaization” of the Itureans. It is even less satisfactory to suggest, as Jonathan Goldstein does, that Aristobulus’ expeditions illustrate his quest to accomplish the biblical prophecies.180 It might be more useful to recall that, according to 1 Maccabees, Jonathan had already launched an expedition against Demetrius II, which took him as far as Hazor, not far from the foothills of the Golan.181 Still according to 1 Maccabees, this operation was followed by another one, which Félix-Marie Abel argues led him to venture even further north, into the territory of Hamath,182 which may perhaps be identified as the locality that lies on the border of the promised land according to some biblical texts (for example Num 13:21; Josh 13:5).183 Soon after that, Jonathan is described travelling to Damascus and marching through the entire region (1 Macc 12:32). Whatever its historical veracity, this passage shows that the author of 1 Maccabees did not think it inconceivable that the Hasmoneans should have made incursions into this area. However, according to 1 Maccabees, Jonathan was constrained to withdraw into Judea. As for Aristobulus, he would not have been in a position to forge an alliance with the Itureans, had he not managed to seize control of at least part of Upper Galilee. Raphael Frankel, Nimrod Getzov, Mordechai Aviam, and Avi Degani, all believe that in the Hellenistic period, the population of Upper Galilee was ethnically ill-defined but had polytheistic cults, whereas the population of Lower Galilee was Jewish.184 However they do not explain what we should understand by the word “Jewish”: were these people descended from the Israelites who had remained

information suggests that his army also conducted operations on the coast of Palestine at Strato’s Tower.” The sources he mentions in support of this assertion are J.W. 1.70–84 and Ant. 13.301–319. However, these texts do not lead to the conclusion that Aristobulus conducted military operations towards the coast; they simply tell us that Judas the Essenian prophesized the death of Antigonus, and that there was a place in Jerusalem called “Strato’s Tower,” like the eponymous coastal city. It is not possible to infer from these passages that this locality was already under Hasmonean control under Aristobulus, especially since its conquest is attributed to Jannaeus in the sources. 180 See Goldstein, “The Hasmonean Revolt and the Hasmonean Dynasty,” 333: “If the boundaries of the Promised Land were to reach the Euphrates, the next expansion should be northward and eastward. Pious Jews reading Zech 9:1–17 would think that anyone claiming to be king in Jerusalem would first have to make some conquests in the north. Accordingly, Judas is reported to have made conquests in the territory of the Itureans and to have forced the inhabitants who chose to remain there to become Jews, perhaps interpreting Zechariah 9:1 in the context of 9:7.” 181 1 Macc 11:67 and 73; Josephus, Ant. 13.158–162. 182 Amathitis in Greek; cf. 1 Macc 12:25. 183 See Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 225. 184 Settlement Dynamics, 110.

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in the land?185 Certainly, the archaeological evidence belies this view. Could it be that these people were in fact Judeans who had settled in Galilee? Although this seems likely, it is not possible to determine either when they settled there or where the relevant sites are.186 Raphael Frankel et al. refer to 1 Macc 5:15, in which the Galilean population – whom the Judeans call their “brothers” in 1 Macc 5:16 – send a cry of help to the Maccabees, having come under attack from the people of Ptolemais, Tyre, and Sidon, and the “Galilee of the gentiles”. Beyond making a possible reference to Isa 8:23, Frankel et al. argue that this expression alludes to a real difference between the people of Lower and Upper Galilee, although it is unclear when this difference dated from. The literary sources are relatively silent on the process which led to the integration of Galilee as a whole into the Hasmonean state. According to 1 Macc 9:2, there were still Jews in Galilee in 160 B.C.E. despite the fact that Simon had evacuated it a few years beforehand (see 1 Macc 5:20–23, a passage of dubious historicity),187 and the population of Arbela clashed with the Seleucid general Bacchides.188 Josephus writes that Alexander Jannaeus, the youngest son of John Hyrcanus, was raised in Galilee (Ant. 13.322), which suggests that at least a part of Galilee was linked with Judea during the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus. (Even if Hyrcanus had tried to keep his youngest son away from power, it would be hard to imagine him sending Alexander to live in the midst of “pagans”). Josephus also mentions that, around the end of the second century B.C.E., Ptolemy Lathyrus launched an offensive against the Galilean city of Asochis (north-west of Sepphoris) on the Sabbath 185 On this hypothesis, see A. Alt, Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel (München: Verlag C. H. Beck, 1953), 2:407–423 (esp. 410–411); Stern, GLAJJ, 1:225. For Richard A. Horsley, the Galileans were largely descended from the ancient Israelites; however, the Hasmoneans submitted them to “Judean” laws – i. e. the Judean version of the Israelite religion (see Galilee: History, Politics, People [Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1995]; idem, “The Expansion of Hasmonean Rule,” 157–159). For a critique of this argument, see Freyne, “Galileans, Phoenicians, and Itureans,” and Leibner, Settlement and History in Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Galilee, 320, 335–336. The main problem with the thesis that this area had been in continuous occupation, is that it is contradicted by the archaeological data: it seems, on the contrary, that this region was depopulated between the neo-Assyrian period and the Persian period, during which new settlements appeared; see Z. Gal, Lower Galilee in the Iron Age (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1992), 108–109. The Galileans may have been in part descended from the Judeans who were exiled in Babylon before returning home during the Persian period; see É. Nodet, “Notes philologiques. Galiléens (Lc 13,1 …),” RB 120/2 (2013): 267–276. However, for Zvi Gal, the rural sites which sprang up in Lower Galilee around the second half of the sixth century B.C.E. were linked to the Phoenician cities which appeared at the same time along the coast, on the sites of Tel ‘Akko, Tel Keisan, Tel Shikmona, etc. (Lower Galilee, 109). 186 Cf. Leibner, Settlement and History in Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Galilee, 319– 320. 187 On 1 Macc 5, see Part I, § 4.2.2; and Seth Schwartz, “Israel and the Nations Roundabout: I Maccabees and the Hasmonean Expansion”. 188 On the interpretation of Galgala as Galilee, see Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 159.

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(Ant. 13.337): the fact that he implies that this city was populated with pious Jews does not suggest that these people had recently been Judaized.189 In other words, the textual evidence appears to suggest that even before the Maccabean crisis, the Galilean population was partly composed of Jews (who probably came from Judea), and that this Judean population did not disappear in the interval between the Maccabean crisis and the Hasmonean conquest of Galilee as a whole. It seems probable that the Hasmoneans asserted and stabilized their control over Galilee as a whole under Jannaeus, which may have led to the ulterior tradition of the Baraita deTehumey Eretz Israel (Baraita of the Boundaries of the Land of Israel), a rabbinic text on the borders of the land of Israel which was transcribed in the Rehov synagogue inscription.190 Rafael Frankel et al. emphasize the fact that there is ample archaeological evidence of Jewish settlements in Upper Galilee at the end of the Hellenistic period. It seems likely that the presence of Jews in that region, which continued even after Pompey defeated the Hasmoneans in 63, was a consequence of the expansion of the Judean territory under this dynasty. Josephus does not explain what motivated the wars that Aristobulus waged during his one year of rule. It seems likely that Aristobulus was continuing the policy of his father, having fought his first wars at his side. However, Josephus does provide us with an important piece of information, when he tells us that Aristobulus I was called “Philhellene” (Ant. 13.318). As Christian-George Schwentzel reminds us, in a discussion of the Nabatean king Aretas III, the epithet “philhellene” could not refer to a Greek king, and “belonged to the language of the ethnic state.”191 However, this word does imply a stance of benevolence towards the region’s Greek population, hardly forecasting a policy of attacks on the Greeks and their sanctuaries in the name of the fight against idol worshippers. Although the dearth of information available on Aristobulus makes it difficult to evaluate the full import of this epithet, this detail, which seems unlikely to have been invented by Josephus or his sources, does imply a certain level of openness to the Hellenistic world and is coherent with Aristobulus’ decision to lay claim to the title of king.192 In other words, the Hasmonean dynasty was progressively becoming closer to the model presented by Hellenistic monarchies.193 189 See Stern, GLAJJ, 1:225. 190 For the argument that the tradition of the Baraita reflects a state of affairs going back to the time of Jannaeus, see R. Frankel and I. Finkelstein, “The Northwest Corner of Eretz-Israel in the Baraita Boundaries of Eretz-Israel,” Cathedra 27 (1983): 39–46 (Heb.); Aviam, Jews, Pagans and Christians in the Galilee, 48. However, according to R. Frankel et al., the Baraita was only compiled at the start of the second century C.E. (Settlement Dynamics, 112–113). The authors refer to the analysis of Y. Sussman in “A Halachic Inscription from the Beth Shean Valley,” Tarbiz 43 (1973/74): 88–158 and “The ‘Boundaries of Eretz-Israel’,” Tarbiz 45 (1975/76): 123–257. 191 Original French text: “fait partie du langage de l’État ethnique” (Schwentzel, Juifs et Nabatéens, 238). 192 See J.W. 1.70; Ant. 13.301. 193 See Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 137–138.

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2.3 Alexander Jannaeus Although Alexander Jannaeus’ military achievements are impressive, he was not quite as successful on the battlefield as his predecessors, John Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, and may in fact have not been as gifted at the art of war.194 Menahem Stern argues that his reign should be divided into three separate periods: 103– 92; 92–83; and 83–76.195 If we follow the relatively detailed account of Jannaeus’ reign in Antiquities, it is indeed possible to have a sense of the chain of events that marked his rule.

103–92 B.C.E.

In his first military campaign, Alexander Jannaeus besieged Ptolemais, on the Mediterranean coast. The fact that the territory of Ptolemais stretched towards Galilee, which had recently been conquered by the Hasmoneans, seems likely to have influenced his decision to target Ptolemais. It is possible that there had already been a few clashes before the siege, because the population of Ptolemais had already manifested their hostility towards the Judeans in the past, notably when they had handed Jonathan over to Trypho (according to 1 Macc 12:48).196 Josephus observes in passing that Ptolemais, Gaza, Straton’s Tower and Dora (both of which were held by Zoilus) were the only coastal cities that Jannaeus did not control. (The case of Ascalon is slightly different, because this city was able to retain its independence throughout the Hasmonean dynasty, thanks to its ties with Egypt). However, Josephus’ observation may in fact not be that reliable, since we learn a little later, in Ant. 13.357, that Raphia and Anthedon were not under Hasmonean control either. Nevertheless, it does seem to indicate that the coastal cities that had been the focus of earlier conflicts between Hyrcanus and the Seleucids – such as Joppa and Pegae – were back under Hasmonean control, as well perhaps as Apollonia, north of Joppa, and Jamnia and Azot, further to the south. Josephus mentions that Antiochus VIII and Antiochus IX were still in conflict when Jannaeus rose to power and that as a consequence, the coastal cities were left undefended; 194 Menahem Stern writes: “Nevertheless, it became apparent that Jannaeus was unable to raise his kingdom to the level of a genuine military power by the standards of that period, a power capable of imposing itself militarily upon substantial segments of the Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires (e. g. Ptolemy Lathyrus in Cyprus), much less the entire Ptolemaic empire. Moreover, it would appear that Jannaeus never actually achieved a victory on the open battle field against serious Seleucid forces, as did several of his predecessors: Jonathan in the battle near Azotus; the sons of Simon over Cendebaeus; and John Hyrcanus and his sons Aristobulus and Antigonus over Antiochus Cyzicenus” (“Judaea and her Neighbors,” 32). 195 Stern, ibid. 196 See also Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 139. The reference to 2 Macc 6:8 is erroneous.

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in turn, this remark suggests that this may have already been the case at the end of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus, between 107 and 104. Under threat from the Hasmoneans, Ptolemais had sent a call for help to Ptolemy Lathyrus. Based in Cyprus because he was in conflict with Cleopatra III, Ptolemy was soon in Syria (despite the fact that the population of Ptolemais had had a change of heart and no longer wanted his help). Jannaeus then tried to convince Ptolemy to side with him against Zoilus, while also appealing to Cleopatra. Angered by this betrayal, Ptolemy then marched on Judea, taking Asochis in Galilee and making an attempt on Sepphoris, before confronting and defeating Jannaeus in Asophon, close to the river Jordan.197 Ptolemy then invaded Judea, where his soldiers’ simulations of cannibalism spread terror among the population, according to Josephus, writing on the authority of Strabo and Nicolaus (Ant. 13.345–347). At this point, Cleopatra – whose army, according to Josephus, was led by the Jewish generals Chelkias and Ananias – intervened in the conflict, putting an end to Ptolemy’s victories and concluding an alliance with Jannaeus in Scythopolis. However, the Egyptian sources on the “War of Sceptres” of 103–101, which pitted the Ptolemies against each other, show that the campaign was mainly waged by Ptolemy X Alexander I and some of his Egyptian generals, as opposed to Chelkias and Ananias alone. It also seems likely that Cleopatra in fact wished to annex Coele-Syria. In other words, Josephus provides us with a “Judeocentric” account of these events, embellishing Jannaeus’ role by suggesting that he was an “ally” of Cleopatra, when in fact he is more likely to have been her vassal.198 Alexander, who was now “free of his fear of Ptolemy” (Ant. 13.356), decided to lay siege to Gadara, in Galaaditis (Gilead), on the eastern shore of the river Jordan, south-east of the sea of Galilee. He may have sought to prevent other military offensives launched from the northern coast, from passing through the Jordan Valley, since this is probably the route that Ptolemy had taken.199 Alternatively, it could be that Gadara had welcomed Ptolemy. What is certain is that the citadel was in a strategic location, and controlled several routes. For Jannaeus, launching an expedition to Transjordan may also have been a way of reenacting Hyrcanus’ 197 Jannaeus, who is said to have had an army of 50,000 Judean soldiers and 8,000 mercenaries, is supposed to have lost 30,000 men (or even 50,000, according to Timagenes), which is of course an exaggeration (Ant. 13.337, 339, 344). 198 See K. Atkinson, “The Historical Chronology of the Hasmonean Period in the War and Antiquities of Flavius Josephus: Separating Fact from Fiction,” in Flavius Josephus: Interpretation and History (ed. J. Pastor et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 7–27 (esp. 16). For a more nuanced analysis, see E. Van’t Dack, W. Clarysse, G. M. Cohen, J. Quaegebeur and J. K. Winnicki, The Judean-Syrian-Egyptian conflict of 103–101 B.C.: A Multilingual Dossier Concerning a “War of Sceptres” (Brussels: Koninklijke Academie voor wetenschappen letteren en schone kunsten van België, 1989), 109–110, 122–124 (esp. 123 for an analysis of the influence of Ananias) and 127– 136. 199 According to Menahem Stern’s map of Ptolemy’s route, the latter had gone down the Jordan valley, through Gadara and Pella; see “Judaea and her Neighbors,” 34.

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heroic deeds, which, according to Josephus, began with the siege of Medeba, on the eastern shore of the river Jordan (although a lot further south, roughly at the same level as Judea). However, whereas Hyrcanus had prevailed after only six months (Ant. 13.255), ten months passed before Jannaeus saw Gadara fall.200 Shortly thereafter, it seems, he seized the citadel of Amathus, which was located in the Jordan Valley, half-way between Gadara and Judea, and was under the control of Theodorus, son of Zeno, who inflicted heavy losses on Jannaeus, in retaliation.201 Alexander Jannaeus nevertheless proceeded to launch a new series of military campaigns, heading once again for the Mediterranean coast, and seizing Raphia, Anthedon and Gaza, which presupposes that Egypt had loosened its control over the coast. As I briefly recalled in the first section of this part of the book, Josephus explicitly describes Jannaeus’ expedition against Gaza as a punitive offensive against the city’s residents, who had forged an alliance with Ptolemy. Although the capture of the city was followed with bloody reprisals, they would not have ben considered especially shocking in the context of the Hellenistic world, apart from Jannaeus’ massacre of the city’s councilmen in the temple of Apollo.202 Jannaeus’ siege of Gaza is not without recalling Jonathan’s siege of the same city, which was motivated by the same reasons, its population having also sided with the enemy (in this case, Demetrius, who had rallied to the cause of Antiochus VI; see 1 Macc 11:60–62). However, the city had fared better at the hands of Jonathan. The political and military logic of these two first series of expeditions is fairly clear and directly related to Jannaeus’ experience of war against Ptolemy: in the first of these campaigns, he sought to gain control of the Jordan Valley, in order to secure this route into Judea from future invaders; in the second, he tried to crush Ptolemy’s allies, in order to avoid having to face a repeat of what had happened in Ptolemais. Although he was primarily motivated by questions of national secu-

200 For Thomas Weber, the presence – attested in two inscriptions – of citizens of Gadara in Athens and Delos, means that they had gone in exile following Jannaeus’ offensive against Gadara (see “Gadarenes in Exile. Two Inscriptions from Greece Reconsidered,” ZDPV 112/1 [1996]: 10–17). This is possible, but far from certain, since the inscription does not mention the reasons for their relocation. 201 It seems, based on what Josephus goes on to write, that he did eventually manage to take back this fortress. 202 Diodorus (14.53.1–4) claims for example that when the Carthaginian city of Motya, in Sicily, fell in 397/6, the troops of the tyrant of Syracuse, Dyonisius I, started indiscriminately massacring the population, including the women, children and elderly. However, Dyonisius managed to put an end to the slaughter (not out of humanity, but because he wished to profit from the prisoners, by selling them of as slaves) by asking heralds to instruct the Motyans to seek refuge in the sanctuaries that the Greeks held in reverence. See Eck, “Essai pour une typologie des massacres en Grèce classique,” and Part I, § 4.2.3.

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rity, he may also have had economic incentives, linked with Gaza’s role as a trading post with Arabia.203

92–83 B.C.E. Josephus dates the end of the siege of Gaza to 96 B.C.E., shortly before the death of Antiochus VIII (Ant. 13.365).204 After a digression on the feuds in which the last members of the Seleucid dynasty became embroiled, he returns to the subject of Jannaeus’ reign, writing that the Hasmonean king faced a revolt in Judea circa 92 B.C.E.205 This marked the beginning of a period of unrest, during which Jannaeus ordered the massacre of those who declared him unfit for the high priesthood, killing up to 6,000 people, according to Josephus (Ant. 13.373). It is in this context that Josephus first mentions Jannaeus’ troops of Pisidian and Cilician mercenaries, as if his decision to hire mercenaries was connected with these challenges to his authority and his need to have soldiers on whom he could rely. In his parallel account of this period, in the Judean War 1.88, Josephus explicitly states that Jannaeus would not have been able to foil the plots hatched against him without these foreign mercenaries.206 Jannaeus then went on to subdue the Arabs settled in Moab and Galaaditis, forcing them to pay a tribute, and to tear down the citadel of Amathus (Ant. 13.374; according to J.W. 1.89, Theodorus took fright and fled, abandoning the fortress). This expansion of the Judean territory led to a conflict with the Nabatean king Obedas I, who beat Jannaeus in Gaulanitis (not far from Hippos),207 largely destroying his army. This was followed by a domestic crisis in Judea, and the mounting oppo203 According to Lee I. Levine, “Control of at least part of the coast was crucial for the Hasmoneans: rich dividends would accrue to Jewish rulers from the lucrative coastal trade, produce from the hinterland could be exported without having to pass through hostile non-Jewish cities, and Jews could thus participate fully in commercial enterprises. Control of the southern coastal region, especially Gaza, afforded the Hasmoneans a share in the flourishing Arabian trade” (“The Hasmonean Conquest of Strato’s Tower,” IEJ 24 [1974]: 62–69; the quotation is on p. 66–67). However, Uriel Rappaport emphasizes that the Hasmonean control of Gaza was limited, because the Nabateans moved on to new commercial routes, via Phoenicia (The House of the Hasmoneans, 334–335). 204 It is unlikely that Jannaeus turned his fire on Gaza as soon as Ptolemy left. The evidence available on the “War of Sceptres” shows that Cleopatra left some of her troops in Ptolemais until at least September 102 (see P. Grenf. I 35, in The Judean-Syrian-Egyptian conflict, 75– 77). Jannaeus probably achieved his first conquests between 101 and 96 B.C.E. 205 According to Édouard Will, this period of unrest began in 93: “A partir de 93, il y eut des mouvements insurrectionnels, contre lesquels Jannée utilisa des mercenaires recrutés parmi les pirates d’Anatolie méridionale. En 88, ses adversaires juifs firent appel contre lui au Séleucide de Damas, Démétrios III (créature de Ptolémée IX…)” (Histoire politique du monde hellénistique, 2:449). 206 See section 4 (infra). 207 On this localization, see F.-M. Abel, Géographie de la Palestine. Tome II, Géographie politique. Les villes (Paris: Gabalda, 1938), 149, note 3.

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sition to the king ended in a brutal repression. Josephus claims that there were no less than 50,000 Judean casualties in six years, although this is of course an exaggeration.208 Jannaeus’ Judean enemies then (probably in 89/88 B.C.E.) appealed to the Seleucid king Demetrius III Eukairos (nicknamed Akairos), asking him to force Jannaeus to step down. Alexander and his troops – including 6,200 mercenaries (or 8,000 in J.W. 1.93) – clashed in Sichem against Demetrius’ army, which, according to Josephus, included a certain number of Judeans hostile to Jannaeus, and was comprised of 3,000 horsemen and 40,000 foot soldiers (Ant. 13.377; only 14,000 infantrymen in J.W. 1.93). Demetrius won, but 6,000 of the Judeans who had fought alongside the Seleucids defected and joined Jannaeus’ side, forcing Demetrius to withdraw (Ant. 13.379; J.W. 1.95). Once the Seleucids were no longer a threat, dissent soon raged again, and Josephus claims that Jannaeus had 800 of his opponents crucified in Jerusalem. While he condemns the cruelty of this punishment, Josephus admits that Jannaeus was not entirely unjustified, since he had nearly lost his life and kingdom, and had also been forced to cede the territories and citadels of Moab and Galaaditis to Obedas I, in order to obtain the neutrality of the Nabatean king in the war (Ant. 13.382).209 Jannaeus and Judea then found themselves caught in the line of fire between the Seleucid Antiochus XII Dionysus, who acceded to the throne in Damascus in 86/85 B.C.E., and the Nabatean kings Obedas I and Aretas III successively. When Antiochus XII travelled along the Judean coastal corridor to wage war on the Nabateans, he took this opportunity to crush the Judean king along the way, burning down the defences which Jannaeus had erected along a line that stretched from west to east, roughly at the same level on a map as Joppa (Ant. 13.390–391).210 Menahem Stern judiciously observes that Alexander must have been in a very weakened position following his clashes against Obedas I and Demetrius III, for Antiochus XII to choose to pass through the Judean territory on his way to wage war against the Nabateans.211 Later, it was the turn of the Nabatean king Aretas III – who acceded to the throne in 85/84 B.C.E. and seized Damascus just as Tigranes the Great invaded Syria – to take on Jannaeus and defeat him close to the citadel of Adida, which Simon had once rebuilt (1 Macc 12:38). A treaty was then negotiated, leading Aretas to retreat from Judea.

208 See J.W. 1.91; Ant. 13.376. 209 Josephus adopts a harsher stance towards Jannaeus in the equivalent passage of War, and does not mention these losses (J.W. 1.96–98). 210 On the archaeological traces of these defensive structures, see Berlin, “Palestine in the Hellenistic Period: Between Large Forces,” 38–39. 211 Stern, “Judaea and her Neighbors,” 45.

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83–76 B.C.E. Jannaeus’ defeat at the hands of Aretas III in Adida marked the end of a difficult period, during which Judea had not only failed to conquer new land, but seen its territory shrink. Nevertheless, Jannaeus seems to have soon been able to hold his head up again and reconstitute his army. Having managed to tame the domestic opposition which for years had undermined his rule, the end of his life coincided with a series of significant military victories. Josephus writes rather abruptly, in Ant. 13.393 that Jannaeus marched “once more” on, and conquered Dium (or Pella, according to J.W. 1.104), a city in Gaulanitis. He then proceeded to seize Gerasa – Josephus suggests in War that he captured this city because he was “hankering once more after the treasures of Theodorus,”212 but it seems likely that he felt that he had a score to settle against him and wished to take his revenge (see Ant. 13.356). After that, he conquered Gaulana, Seleucia, the “Valley of Antiochus” and the fortress of Gamala (Ant. 13.393–394). After three years of uninterrupted warfare, Jannaeus returned to Jerusalem where news of his victories earned him a warm welcome from his compatriots (J.W. 1.105–106 and Ant. 13.394). In Antiquities 13.395–397, Josephus reviews Jannaeus’ conquests, listing the cities which were under Judean control in “Syria, Idumea and Phoenicia,” i. e. at the end of his reign (see my table infra).213 The fact that this list includes places that were located in Moab and Gaulanitis, seems to imply that Jannaeus had taken them back from the Nabateans at the end of his reign.214 This hypothesis is corroborated by Ant. 14.18, in which Josephus names twelve cities that Jannaeus had seized from the Nabateans, and that Hyrcanus II now promised to return to them. The likelihood that this hypothesis is correct is also increased by the fact that Josephus indicates that even though Jannaeus was ill for three years (from 79 to 76 B.C.E.), this did not stop him from going to war (J.W. 1.106 and Ant. 13.398). In the equivalent passage in the Judean War, Josephus (or his source) considers that Jannaeus’ “ill-timed campaigns” hastened his demise. It is not clear what exactly happened to the territories and cities that Jannaeus conquered. Josephus writes that, after the Roman conquest, Pompey and Gabinius returned to their original population a certain number of cities, which the Hasmoneans had conquered but not destroyed. In the Judean War, Josephus provides us with a first list of these cities in 1.156, followed by another one in 1.166, which he prefaces with these words: 212 J.W. 1.104. In Ant. 13.393 we find the name Ἔσσα, but it should be read Γέρασα as in J.W. 1.104. 213 Syncellus provides us with yet another list of these cities, adding Abila, Philoteria and Hippos, for example (ed. Dindorf; 1:558–559). However, his account seems rather unreliable: he claims that Jannaeus also attacked the territory of Tyre, and died just as he was about to crush an Iturean revolt. 214 See also Stern, “Judaea and her Neighbors,” 45–46.

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165 Leaving the reduction of the fort to his troops, Gabinius made a parade of the country, restoring order in the cities which had escaped devastation, and rebuilding those which he found in ruins. 166 It was, for instance, by his orders that Scythopolis, Samaria, Anthedon, Apollonia, Jamnia, Raphia, Marisa, Adora, Gamala, Azotus, and many other towns were repeopled (συνεπολίσθησαν), colonists gladly flocking to each of them. (J.W. 1.165–166; trans. Thackeray, LCL, 77)

The verb συμπολίζω, which literally means “to gather in a city,” refers to the return to normal of the city’s political and institutional life, which itself presupposes that the city has been repopulated. The beginning of § 166 thus focuses on the case of cities that were not destroyed, as opposed to those that had been razed, as it is often thought, because of the parallel version of this passage in Antiquities. Although the cities listed in § 166 are not the same as those listed in § 156, there is no contradiction between the two passages, especially since the list of cities that Josephus provides us with in § 166 is open-ended: we are told that there are also “many other towns” that have not been mentioned individually. The same events are also described in Antiquities. In Ant. 14.74–76, the names of the cities of Coele-Syria that Pompey returns to the province of Syria echo those mentioned by Josephus in the Judean War 1.156, if we add Dium to the list. In § 76, Josephus clearly states that these cities were not destroyed, whereas others were. However, in Ant. 14.87–88 (a passage which echoes J.W. 1.165–166), this statement is contradicted by the assertion that Gabinius tra­ velled across Judea, “and whenever he came upon a ruined city, he gave directions for it to be rebuilt” (καὶ ὅσαις ἐπετύγχανεν καθῃρημέναις τῶν πόλεων κτίζειν παρεκελεύετο) (trans. Marcus, LCL, 493). This is followed by the names of the cities that were rebuilt (ἀνεκτίσθησαν). Although this list is almost the same as the one provided in War 1.166, it has a radically different meaning, if we accept my interpretation of this passage in War; this list is also left openended (see § 88). The fact that J.W. 1.156 and 1.165–166, as well as Ant. 14.75–76, are in accordance, seems to suggests that in Ant. 14.87–88, Josephus is veering from his source, perhaps in order to adapt it to his own narrative in Antiquities. The cities that he lists include Adora, Marisa, Samaria and Scythopolis, which were conquered by Hyrcanus (who entirely or partially destroyed the last two, according to Josephus); Gaza, which was captured by Jannaeus (who destroyed it, according to Ant. 13.364), and the neighbouring cities of Anthedon and Raphia, about which Josephus only says that they were taken by storm (Ant. 13.357). As for Azot, which was also on the coast, slightly to the north of Anthedon, Josephus does not mention its conquest: we come across it for the first time in the list of cities provided in Ant. 13.395–397. It is interesting to note that, if we look at Jannaeus’ conquests, the only cities that are expli­ citly described as having been destroyed are the coastal cities against which he launched punitive expeditions in the aftermath of his war against Ptolemy (if we suppose that Azot, which was located in the same area, was captured in the

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same circumstances).215 Granted, Josephus writes in Ant. 14.88 that he could have mentioned other cities as well: however, the fact is that he does not. If we accept his statement in Ant. 14.87–88, does this mean that we should consider that the coastal cities had remained uninhabited and in ruins until Gabinius rebuilt them in 63 B.C.E.? Let us start with a brief overview of the data that Josephus provides us with in his work:216 Table 1 Places conquered by ­Jannaeus, according to Josephus in various ­passages of Antiquities (the citadels are indicated in italics)

Judean possessions in 79 (Ant. 13.395–397)

J.W. 1.156

Gadara (Galaaditis)

Gadara

D

Amathus (Perea)

D

Dora (on the coast)

ND

Straton’s Tower (on the coast)

Straton’s Tower

Anthedon (on the coast)

Anthedon

Gaza (on the coast)

Gaza

Raphia (on the coast)

Raphia

Pella (Galaaditis)

D

J.W. 1.166

Ant. 14.74–76

Ant. 14.88

D ND

ND

ND ND

ND ND

D ND

ND ND

D D

ND

Dium (Gaulanitis)

ND

Gerasa (Galaaditis) Gaulana (Gaulanitis) Seleucia (Gaulanitis)

Seleucia

“Valley of Antiochus” Gamala (Gaulanitis)

Gamala

ND

Apollonia (on the coast)

ND

215 Compare with the following observation by Seth Schwartz: “Alexander Yannai (reigned 103–76) greatly extended the Hasmonean conquests, concentrating on the Greek cities of coastal Palestine and the mainly Greek cities east of the Jordan River. It is likely that his normal treatment of these cities was to ‘destroy’ them in much the same way that his father had destroyed Samaria and Scythopolis, but it is not impossible that he judaized some of the cities and simply reduced others to subjection and tribute; Josephus is remarkably vague” (Imperialism and Jewish Society, 38). However, it seems to me that there is more to be drawn from the data that Josephus provides us with. 216 In the table, D = destroyed; ND = not destroyed.

275

The different stages, the nature, and the motivations Places conquered by ­Jannaeus, according to Josephus in various ­passages of Antiquities (the citadels are indicated in italics)

Judean possessions in 79 (Ant. 13.395–397)

J.W. 1.156

J.W. 1.166

Ant. 14.74–76

Ant. 14.88

Joppa (on the coast)

ND

Jamnia (on the coast)

ND

ND

ND

Azotus (on the coast)

ND

ND

ND

Marisa (Idumea)

ND

ND

ND

D

Samaria

ND

ND

ND

D

ND

ND

ND

D

ND

D

Rhinocolura (on the coast) Adora (Idumea)

D

Mount Carmel Mount Tabor Scythopolis

Heshbon (Moab) Medaba (Moab)

Medaba

Lemba or Libba (Moab)

Lemba

Oronaim (Moab)

Oronaim

Agalain (Moab)

Agalain

Athone (Moab)

Thona

Zoara (Moab)

Zoara

Dabaloth Arabatha Gobolis Arydda Alusa Orybda Ragaba

Hippos (ND)

Hippos (ND)

Arethusa (ND)

Arethusa (ND)

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A certain number of Josephus’ assertions are contradicted by the archaeological evidence, which shows that some of the cities that he claims were destroyed were not, and vice versa. We have already seen that Samaria, which according to Josephus was erased from the map, was in fact only partially damaged. Conversely, Sichem was actually razed to the ground and does not seem to have been rebuilt (indeed, Josephus does not mention it in his lists of cities), while Scythopolis was torn down, but may have been populated again before the Roman conquest. As for the coastal cities – i. e. those that the literary sources claim most explicitly were laid to waste by Jannaeus – Zeev Safrai indicates that no traces of destruction have been found in Dora, Caesarea (Straton’s Tower), Jamnia, and Azotus (there is no data available on Anthedon).217 Moreover, there are a certain number of cases in which the archaeological evidence contradicts the hypothesis that a particular city was rebuilt in the middle of the first century B.C.E. This is the case with Pella and Apollonia, for example.218 Considering the uncertainties created by the contradictions that we find both between different parts of Josephus’ work (as indicated by the table above), and between his work and the archaeological evidence, it would be at once imprudent and erroneous to conclude that it was Jannaeus’ policy to systematically destroy every single one of the places that he conquered, exterminating or banishing their population.219 Indeed, the fact that Gabinius exhorted their population to resume their civic life (or to return to the cities that had just been rebuilt, according to Ant. 14.87–88) shows that this was not the case.220 It seems more likely that these cities were subjected to the Hasmonean king, and had to pay him a tribute. It is of course possible that part of their population was reduced into slavery: however, this cannot have happened systematically in every single case. The sources have curiously little to say on these practices.221 I shall focus later (infra, § 3.3) on Pella’s refusal to adopt the laws of Judea (Ant. 13.397), asking whether this implies

217 Although Strabo does not mention Dora after Straton’s Tower, in his description of the coast in Geography (16.2.27–30), this does not necessarily mean that it was destroyed. Alongside Straton’s Tower, he mentions Joppa, Jamnia, Azotus and Ascalon – as well as Gaza, which he says was razed by Jannaeus and remained uninhabited after that. It may be that we should take this to mean that the other cities, on the contrary, were not destroyed by Jannaeus (which is a priori confirmed by the archaeological evidence). However, the fact that Strabo refers to “Straton’s Tower” prompts us to wonder what source he used and when it dated from: Herod rebuilt the city, which he called Caesarea. According to Stern, GLAJJ, 1:292, Strabo’s account reflects a period that was later than 63 B.C.E. but earlier than Herod’s reign. 218 See Safrai, “The Gentile Cities of Judea”. 219 Shatzman develops a similar argument in “The Hasmoneans”. 220 As Kasher had already observed in Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 122 and 161–163. 221 Cf. Kasher, ibid., 166–167.

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that other cities accepted these conditions, and whether we can say that Jannaeus had a policy of “Judaization” in Cœle-Syria.222 Alexandre Jannaeus’ policy should be examined in its wider historical context. His reign coincided with the sharp decline of the Seleucid dynasty, which was desperately trying to maintain its control over the region, as evidenced by the expedition of Antiochus XII against the Nabateans, for example. Like John Hyrcanus before him, Alexander did not enter into an alliance with the Seleucids, at least from the time of the reign of Antiochus VIII. The situation was different with the Lagids, who were actively involved in the affairs of Coele-Syria, as the “War of Sceptres” made clear in 103–101 B.C.E.223 After attempting to play a double game, by pretending to enter into a coalition with Ptolemy Lathyrus while forging an alliance with Cleopatra III, Jannaeus sided with Cleopatra. Later, he had to enter into negotiations with the Nabateans; conversely, the sources do not mention whether or not he was in contact with the Itureans. Overall, the collapse of the Seleucid empire allowed cities to become independent, especially on the coast (Sidon in 112, Seleucia Pieria at the end of 109, Ascalon in 104/3, etc.), and also coincided with the growing independence of such ethnic kingdoms as those of the Nabateans, the Itureans and indeed the Judeans themselves. In the last part of his reign, Jannaeus also saw Armenia become increasingly powerful, although we have no information on his relationship (if any) with Tigranes – Judea had to wait until Salome Alexandra to conclude an alliance with the Armenian king. As for Rome, it had been weakened by domestic infighting and the Social War that raged in Italy (91–87 B.C.E.), and faced a new threat from Mithridates, king of Pontus, against whom it waged several wars from 89/8 B.C.E. onwards. Thus, the Senate having voted to intervene in Cappadocia, in order to re-assert the latter’s independence against Mithridates, put king Ariobarzanes on the throne in 95. However, Tigranes, who was allied with Mithridates, later brought the latter’s son back to power. The Senate then dispatched Sulla, and, in 92, Ariobarzanes was soon back on the throne, only to see Mithridates take the kingship away from him after a short period of time. As Édouard Will writes, “The Italian Social War prevented the Senate from fighting back: the Cappadocian issue seemed to have been finally settled in favour of the interests of Pontus.”224 This was all the more reason for Rome to steer clear of the affairs of Judea, into which it had an even smaller stake. Rome was conspicuous by its absence from the foreign policy of Jannaeus, 222 Aryeh Kasher emits the hypothesis that the non-Jews who lived in areas under Hasmonean control fell into the biblical categories of the ger or toshav; however, he adds that this issue demands further investigation (ibid., 165). 223 See Van’t Dack et al., The Judean-Syrian-Egyptian Conflict of 103–101 B.C.: A Multilingual Dossier Concerning a “War of Sceptres”. 224 Original French text: “La guerre sociale italienne empêcha le Sénat de réagir: la question cappadocienne paraissait enfin réglée dans le sens des intérêts pontiques” (Will, Histoire politique du monde hellénistique, 2:474).

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who does not seem to have sought to renew Judea’s alliance and friendship with the Roman people. As I have already mentioned, it is possible to suppose, after Uriel Rappaport, that Jannaeus, who employed mercenaries from Cilicia, a region that was known for its pirates,225 was on good terms with various groups of pirates, and thus also, perhaps, with Mithridates and the Parthians. If this is the case, then Jannaeus deliberately sought to move away from Rome.226 Chris Seeman reaches the same conclusion, even if he considers that various domestic factors also had a role to play: in particular, he argues that Alexander Jannaeus wished to prevent his opponents from asking Rome to arbitrate their dispute – which is exactly what the opponents of Hyrcanus and Aristobulus did when they called on Pompey to arbitrate their conflict in 63.227 However, looking for an explanation beyond the political situation at the start of the first century B.C.E., it seems worth asking what Alexander Jannaeus was after. In his article on the wars waged by Jannaeus, Menahem Stern does not mention that there were politico-religious factors at play.228 Morton Smith is more explicit (and abrupt): Jannaeus’ conquests cannot plausibly be represented as a religious persecution to achieve the conversion and purification of Palestine. He was not a religious type. … his conquests can most plausibly be explained as results of avarice and the desire of power, and his destructions by the hope to leave no centre of political resistance. Dionysius I of Syracuse followed similar policies. (Smith, “The Gentiles in Judaism, 125 BCE–CE 66,” 213–214) 225 See for example the accusations that Pompeius Trogus levels at the Cilicians in the prologue of book 39 of his Phil. Hist. (Stern, GLAJJ 1, No 138); A. N. Sherwin-White, “Rome, Pamphylia and Cilicia, 133–70 BC,” JRS 66 (1976): 1–14. 226 Rappaport, “La Judée et Rome,” 340–342; see supra, note 76. However, Théodore ­Reinach argues that Jannaeus did renew Judea’s alliance with Rome: according to him, the gold vine – valued at 500 talents and inscribed with the words Ἀλεξάνδρου τοῦ τῶν Ἰουδαίων βασιλέως – that Strabo saw in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, where it had been set up with other offerings from kings (according to Josephus in Ant. 14.35–36), was the gift that Jannaeus sent to Rome to mark the occasion (“Antiochus Cyzicène et les Juifs,” 170). This gift is however usually understood to have been an offering from Aristobulus II. Menahem Stern, who, in his article on Alexan­der Jannaeus (“Judaea and her Neighbors”) remarks on the absence of r­ eferences to any contact between Jannaeus and Rome (p. 29), seems to share Reinach’s view in GLAJJ, 1:275: “Only the Epitome reads Aristoboulou, while the Latin translation has ‘aristoboli filii alexandri’. The reading of the Greek MSS may, after all, be the true one, because the exquisite terpōlē had been made in the time of Alexander. It had his name inscribed on it, though it was presented to the Romans by Aristobulus. However, it could be that the terpōlē Strabo saw at Rome was, in fact, a present sent to Rome by Alexander Jannaeus, who presumably followed his father, John Hyrcanus in renewing the treaty of alliance between Judaea and Rome; cf. Th. ­Reinach, REJ, ­XXXVIII (1899), p. 170.” 227 Seeman, Rome and Judea, 241–243. For the opposite view, see Rocca, “The Hasmonean State and Rome”. 228 See “Judaea and her Neighbors”.

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As we have seen in the first section of this part of the book, Josephus in many ways portrays Jannaeus as a tyrant. Other sources also suggest that a segment of the Judean population shared this perception of Alexander and his sons.229 As such, we cannot completely dismiss Josephus’ account, especially since it is not implausible to think that Alexander may have had a strong predilection for war, or been an energetic man engaged in constant activity.230 My examination of the wars waged by Jannaeus has thrown some light on a few more questions. The first wave of Jannaeus’ conquests, in Transjordan and on the coast, was at least partly motivated by a desire for revenge, following his brutal encounter with Ptolemy Lathyrus; however, it was also motivated by his desire to try and avoid having to face the same calamities in the future. The second wave of his conquests, which took place in the second part of his reign, was again focused on Transjordan (Galaaditis, Gaulanitis, and Moab).231 Revenge was a possible motivation following the defeats he suffered between 92 and 83, notably at the hands of the Nabateans (Obedas I, then Aretas III) and of Theodorus, who had inflicted a painful defeat on the Hasmonean king several years earlier. Economic considerations and questions of national security must also have played a role, especially since Jannaeus had many mercenaries in his pay, even if the majority of his troops were Judean.232 Indeed, it seems likely that the wars of conquest which he waged at the end of his reign may have also been motivated by the need to generate a new source of income to pay for his reconstituted army.

2.4 Jannaeus’ successors to the throne until 63 B.C.E. According to Ant. 13.405, Salome Alexandra brought the siege of Ragaba, in which her husband had met his death, to a successful conclusion. Later, we are told that, like Alexander, she had a troop of mercenaries. However, she does not seem to have ordered new wars of conquest. This may have something to do with her alliance with the Armenian king Tigranes, who was the major player in the region at the time, as well as with the fact that John Hyrcanus and Jannaeus had already considerably extended the Judean borders, improving the balance of power between Judea and its neighbours. However, she may have allowed herself one exception to this moratorium on wars of conquest. In the 70s B.C.E., Salome dispatched her son Aristobulus on a 229 Shatzman refers to the Pesher Nahum and the Psalms of Solomon (in particular 8:14– 22 and 17:5–14) in “The Hasmoneans,” 56–57. See infra, Part III. 230 These characteristics are apparent even in Josephus’ critique of Jannaeus in J.W. 1.106. 231 In reality, Jannaeus did not have much of a choice, considering the presence of the Nabateans in the east, and of the Itureans and Tigranes in the north – not to mention the ­Mediterranean see to the west … 232 See infra, section 4.

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military expedition to Damascus, under the pretence of sending support to the Damascenes, who had come under pressure from the Iturean Ptolemy, son of Mennaeus (J.W. 1.115; Ant. 13.418). It is possible that the Hasmoneans had in fact not given up on their dreams of expansion, and that the unruly Aristobulus wanted to tread in his father’s footsteps. However, after invading Syria in 83 B.C.E., Tigranes went on to seize Damascus from Aretas III in 72, putting paid to any territorial ambitions the Hasmoneans might still have harboured. By 70/69, Tigranes was beginning to close in on Judea, but decided to take Ptolemais first. As Tigranes was attending to the business of having Cleopatra Selene put to death, Salome Alexandra thought it politic to shower him with presents, in the hope of securing an alliance which might safeguard Judea. Soon after this, however, Tigranes was forced to return to Armenia, which had come under attack from Lucullus. Although Josephus’ appraisal of the reign of Salome is rather harsh, he nevertheless concedes that it coincided with a period of peace for the Judean people (Ant. 13.432), corroborating the notion that she focused on consolidating Jannaeus’ territorial gains during her reign, rather than trying to wage wars of conquests. However, the end of Salome’s reign was marred by the secession of her son Aristobulus, who refused to allow the Pharisees to prevail, as his father Jannaeus had instructed. Aristobulus soon had the support of his father’s former generals and of the forces of twenty-two Judean fortresses, as well as of the princes of “Lebanon and Trachonitis,” i. e. the Itureans, and perhaps also some other Arab groups (Ant. 13.427). A shift had taken place: the Judeans were no longer at war with the nations around them, as in the days of Judas, so much as they were in conflict against each other, in alliance with neighbouring groups. Already, during the reign of Jannaeus, his opponents had sought the support of Demetrius III. However, they had not forged alliances with Judea’s neighbours. The struggle for power between Aristobulus and his brother Hyrcanus dominated the years that followed. Not only were alliances forged with neighbouring princes from nations that had been at war with Judea in the past, and could one day become its foes again, but Josephus tells us that, despite his position as the high priest of Judea, Hyrcanus II was prepared to concede parts of the Judean territory – especially Judean conquests in Moab – to the Nabateans, in exchange for their support in his struggle against his brother. Thus, when he found himself forced to flee Jerusalem, Hyrcanus promised to Aretas, that if he were restored and received his throne, he would return to him the territory and the twelve cities which his father Alexander had taken from the Arabs. These were Medaba, Libba, Dabaloth, Arabatha, Agalla (Agalain), Athene, Zoara, Oronain, ­Gobolis, Arydda, Alusa and Orybda. (Ant. 14.18; Marcus, LCL, 457–459)233

233 According to Ant. 13.397, Medaba, Lemba (= Libba), Oronaim and Zoara had been conquered by Jannaeus.

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In other words, the size of the Judean territory does not seem to have been a major concern for Hyrcanus, who was ready to do anything in order to hold on to power. According to Josephus, this does not seem to have made him unpopular at home. Indeed, the Judean people seem to have supported Hyrcanus, when he returned to invade Judea with the help of the Nabatean army. After Aretas defeated Aristobulus, who sought refuge in Jerusalem, Aretas and Hyrcanus’ Judean supporters lay siege to Jerusalem, without any consideration for the holiness of either the temple or the city. This conflict only came to a close following the first intervention of the Romans, who arbitrated in favour of Aristobulus. It is thus easy to see why Josephus points the finger at Hyrcanus and Aristobulus in Ant. 14.77, for their role in the disintegration of the Judean kingdom. After the departure of Pompey, Gabinius’ restructuration of Judea meant that, from a territorial point of view, it was divided into five separate districts: Jerusalem, Gadara (or Gazara),234 Amathus,235 Jericho and Sepphoris. Judea seems to have lost control over Samaria – Gabinius having “rebuilt” the city of Samaria, along with Scythopolis. Moreover, it seems that Idumea was no longer part of Judea either, Marisa having been “rebuilt”. A certain number of the territories conquered by the Hasmoneans were nevertheless eventually returned to Judea during Herod’s reign, under the aegis of the Romans. To conclude: although the notion that the Judeans had to fight to be allowed to practise their cult freely and to live according to their ancestral laws disappeared, as is logical, once Judea became autonomous, this view did not give way to a discourse on the promised land, let alone the Holy Land or fatherland, anymore than on the need to recreate the Davidic kingdom. In the sources available – i. e. mainly the work of Josephus – the policy of territorial expansion that the Hasmoneans followed from Simon, and especially John Hyrcanus, onwards is described in pragmatic terms. The Hasmonean expansion was made possible by a specific set of historical and political circumstances. Several historians, including ancient historians,236 have noted that the Hasmoneans – like other peoples and cities in the Near East, such as the Nabateans – took advantage of the fact that the Seleucid empire was becoming weaker and more divided, in order to regain their autonomy and increase their power. The relative indifference that Rome showed towards the Judean question also had a role to play. Rome’s reluctance to interfere initially seemed detrimental 234 Josephus writes “Gadara” in both J.W. 1.170 and Ant. 14.91, but the majority of his commentators believe that this should be corrected to “Gazara”. However, Gazara seems to have been abandoned at the end of the second century B.C.E. Aryeh Kasher mentions the possibility that Josephus made an error when he wrote “Gadara,” and that we should read this to mean “Adora,” in Idumea (Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 179). 235 According to Josephus, Jannaeus razed the fortress of Amathus. 236 See Tacitus’ analysis in Histories 5.8.3, and Menahem Stern’s observation in GLAJJ, 2:48–49.

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to Judea, since its “alliance and friendship” with Rome did not protect it from the attacks of the Seleucids. Eventually, however, this stance played into the hands of the Hasmoneans: Hyrcanus – who in any case enjoyed more explicit backing from Rome – did not have to curb his territorial ambitions, because the attention of Rome was engaged elsewhere. However, when, by the time of the reign of Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II, Rome started to become more actively involved in Syria and Judea, this proved detrimental to both the Judeans and the Hasmoneans. With the exception of this last period, Rome actually had minimal dealings in Judea. In fact, the territorial expansion of Judea reached its highest point under Jannaeus, who apparently had no close relationship with Rome. Beyond these historical circumstances and geopolitical factors, the sources suggest that the Hasmonean wars were motivated by questions of strategy and national security, as well as by political and economic concerns. Demographic issues may also have played a role in the policies of the Hasmoneans, as Julien Aliquot suggests: the Hasmonean programme of territorial expansion was justified in their eyes by the presence of Jews in most of the areas around Judea. Indeed, the demographic dynamism of Judea in the third and second centuries B.C.E. may have led to waves of emigration to Alexandria, the Greek cities of Syria (notably, Damascus, Gerasa, Antiochus, Apamea, Sidon, and Ptolemais), and perhaps already to Asia Minor, as well as Galilee, Idumea and the Hauran. (Aliquot, “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban,” 173)237

Other scholars consider that the demographic pressures that Judea was under drove the Hasmoneans to expand their rule over new territories, in order to establish Judean settlers there and solve the issues created by the lack of land at home.238 Although both of these explanatory models presuppose a strong level of population growth in Judea, the second is different from the first, because it does not emphasize the fact there were Judeans living outside of Judea, so much as the need to provide landless Judean farmers with new land, by dispossessing non-Judeans of their land. It is nevertheless possible to conciliate these two models, which may in fact be perceived as mutually reinforcing: the fact that Judea was under demographic pressure may already have led a certain number of Judeans to settle outside of Judea before the start of the Hasmonean period, and later driven the Hasmoneans to settle Judeans on the land they had conquered, perhaps with the support of the Judeans who were already settled there. 237 Original French text: “le programme d’expansion territoriale des Hasmonéens se trouve justifié à leurs yeux par la présence de juifs dans la plupart des régions périphériques de la Judée. En effet, le dynamisme démographique de la Judée aux IIIe–IIe s. a.C. a pu entraîner un mouvement d’émigration vers Alexandrie, vers les villes grecques de Syrie (Damas, Gérasa, Antioche, Apamée, Sidon, Ptolémaïs notamment), peut-être déjà vers l’Asie Mineure, mais aussi vers la Galilée, l’Idumée et le Haurân.” See also Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 395. 238 See infra, section 4.

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The hypothesis that the Hasmoneans had politico-religious motivations, such as a desire to “reconquer the promised land,” is not corroborated by the sources. Although they do suggest that, from John Hyrcanus onwards, the sanctuaries located on territories conquered by the Hasmoneans were destroyed, this was probably in order to reinforce the central position of the temple of Jerusalem and the power of the dynasty, as well as to eradicate cults which the Judeans considered reprehensible. Let us pause a moment, and reflect on this point. What does it mean to eradicate “pagan” places of worship, a practice which is attested archaeologically, although we cannot determine how widespread it was, or indeed whether or not it was a systematic policy? For the proponents of the paradigm of the “reconquest of the promised land,” the destruction of “pagan” cults would have been an objective, and as such a cause of war: in their view, the Hasmoneans had to reclaim the land, not only because it was the property of Israel, but also because they had to rid it of idol worship and impurity, on the grounds that the land on which the Jerusalem temple stood could not bear such “abominations”. However, the destruction of “pagan” sanctuaries can also be considered to have been not so much a cause as a consequence of conquest. Once a new territory had been conquered or acquired, it had to be governed: in other words, a fiscal policy, a defence system, etc. had to be put in place, and decisions had to be taken on what to do about places of worship. The Hasmonean policy on sanctuaries seems to have had the particularity to tend to opt for the closure or destruction of places of worship outside Jerusalem – in contrast, in the Hellenistic world, sanctuaries were both a source of fiscal revenue and the beneficiaries of policies of evergetism. This being said, the sources only provide us with very incomplete shreds of information.

3. The “forced conversions” The governance of non-Judean populations was the most problematic consequence of the Hasmonean conquests: the issues raised by “pagan” places of worship were directly connected to the presence of polytheistic groups on the Judeans’ newly-acquired territories. However, idol worship was only part of the problem. As the Book of Numbers already makes clear, the enduring presence in Israel of non-Israelites or non-Judeans also constituted a national security threat. It is not a coincidence if Simon’s policy of banishment focused on strategic places such as the citadels of Beth-Zur, Gazara and the Acra, in which Seleucid forces were stationed. When Simon banished the non-Judean population of Beth-Zur, it was in order to make space for a Judean garrison (φρουρά) (1 Macc 11:66). Similarly, when Simon dispatched Jonathan, son of Absalom, and a large army, to Joppa, they drove away “those who were there,” before stationing a garrison in the city (1 Macc 13:11). Simon also followed much the same course of action in Gazara, expelling the population of the city (1 Macc 13:47), and settling Hyrcanus and

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his troops there in their place. The primary goal of Simon’s policy of banishment was to strengthen the control of the Judeans over various strategically important places, and their surrounding areas. From John Hyrcanus onwards, the non-Judean populations settled on the Judean territory became the focus of a new policy, which, according to many commentators, led to the “forced conversion” of the people of Idumea (Ant. 13.257– 258) and Iturea (Ant. 13.318), and perhaps also of the residents of some of the cities conquered by Alexander Jannaeus (according to Josephus, who, in Ant. 13.395–397, provides us with a list of the cities concerned and explains that Pella, on the eastern shore of the river Jordan, was destroyed because its inhabitants had refused to adopt the laws of the Judeans). The historical reality of these “forced conversions” and their implications have long been the focus of a heated scholarly debate. Different models of interpretation have been proposed. The scholarly community is divided on the question of whether these “conversions” were “forced” or “voluntary,” although some commentators argue that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. The role that religious, economic, demographic, political, military, or ideological factors respectively played in these conversions is also a focus of debate. Let us begin by supposing that the Hasmoneans had a coercive policy of “conversion”. This could suggest a first line of interpretation, according to which the forced “conversion” or Judaization of the people who were settled on the territories conquered by the Hasmoneans reflected the desire of the dynasty to cleanse the land of Israel of any traces of idol worship and to achieve its “degentilization” (the word is Israel Shatzman’s),239 at a time when it was no longer possible to subject non-Judeans to a straightforward policy of banishment, because of both their numbers and the size of the territories concerned.240 This model of interpretation can also become more nuanced and complex, when those who use it also take into account military, demographic and economic factors, instead of focusing solely on questions of ideology and religion.241 239 Shatzman, “The Expansionist Policy,” 50. Steven Weitzman also speaks of “degentilization,” but in connection which Simon’s policy of banishment; see “Forced Circumcision,” 56. 240 Thus, Joseph Sievers (for example) writes that “The policy of forced circumcision adopted by Hyrcanus and his successors may be in part an extension of Simon’s policy: Simon had enough adherents so that he could expel people from Gezer, the Akra, and Joppa and replace them with his supporters. Later, when the conquered territory became too large, Simon’s successors decided to Judaize the gentiles. The conquered population would be more useful as Jewish subjects than as foreign enemies or slaves. A shortage in men loyal to Hyrcanus may be indicated by the fact that he had to recruit a costly mercenary army (BJ 1.61; AJ 13.249)” (The Hasmoneans and their Supporters, 115, note 52). 241 See in particular Will and Orrieux, Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos, 191–197; Mendels, The Land of Israel, 47–56 and 121–122 (not on the policy of John Hyrcanus so much as on its purported background); Shatzman, “Jews and Gentiles from Judas Maccabaeus to John Hyrcanus”; E. Dabrowa, “The Hasmoneans and the Religious Homogeneity of their State,” Scripta Judaica Cracoviensia 8 (2010):

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Cyrille Aslanoff has suggested a different, and original, interpretation of the forced circumcision of the Idumeans, which he considers to have been not so much a “conversion,” as a form of revenge. In his view, John Hyrcanus wished to avenge his people by punishing the surrounding nations for their plan to sell the Judeans into slavery (1 Macc 3:41). Thus, according to Aslanoff, Hyrcanus reduced the Idumeans into slavery before putting into practice “the commandment of the Torah which orders the Jews to circumcise their slaves (Gen 17:13)”.242 However, this interpretation contradicts the accounts of both Strabo and Josephus, according to whom the Idumeans were given a choice. Conversely, a certain number of other historians consider that the non-Judeans “converted” voluntarily, as opposed to under duress. This is for example the position of Uriel Rappaport, who argues that the process leading to the integration into Judea of the Idumeans started with the narrowing down of their cultural and religious differences, and was not based on coercion alone.243 In a similar yet different vein, which goes back to Simon Dubnow, Aryeh Kasher suggests that rural Idumeans, who were culturally “Semitic” and hostile to the Seleucids and the Hellenistic cities, converted voluntarily to Judaism, whereas the Idumeans who lived in Hellenized cities such as Marisa rejected “Judaization.”244 According to him, the reinterpretation of the practice of circumcision, which the Judeans shared with various non-Judean communities in the Levant, as a rite of alliance, facilitated this process of “conversion” or integration.245 7–14; idem, The Hasmoneans and their State, 76–77. Simon Mimouni simply writes that John Hyrcanus forced the Idumeans to be circumcised, which he views as “une forme de judéisation”; see Le judaïsme ancien du VIe siècle avant notre ère au IIIe siècle de notre ère. Des prêtres aux rabbins, 360. 242 Original French text: “le commandement de la Tora qui oblige les Juifs à circoncire leurs esclaves (Gn 17, 13)” (Aslanoff, “L’hellénisme, transgression ou conversion ? Étude du rapport entre Juifs, Juifs apostats et non-Juifs à travers le lexique de Maccabées 1 et 2,” in De la conversion [ed. J.-C. Attias; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1998], 77–106). 243 See my discussion of the Idumeans below, and the list of bibliographical references which I provide in footnote 279. I was unable to consult Uriel Rappaport’ doctoral dissertation, Jewish Religious Propaganda and Proselytism in the Period of the Second Commonwealth (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1965). 244 Kasher, Jews, Idumaeans, and Ancient Arabs: Relations of the Jews in Eretz-Israel with the Nations of the Frontier and the Desert during the Hellenistic and Roman Era (332 BCE–70 CE) (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1988), 46. 245 Kasher, ibid., esp. 66–67. See also R. A. Horsley, “The Expansion of Hasmonean Rule in Idumea and Galilee: Toward a Historical Sociology,” in Second Temple Studies III. Studies in Politics, Class and Material Culture (R. Davies and J. M. Halligan, ed.; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 134–165, esp. 151–152; J. Pasto, “The Origin, Expansion and Impact of the Hasmoneans in Light of Comparative Ethnographic Studies (and Outside of Its Nineteenth-Century Context),” in Second Temple Studies III, 166–201 (see 194–196). Horsley and Pasto do not think that the word “conversion” describes what took place, which they see as a shared practice that made a political alliance possible: as such, they follow the model developed by Morton Smith, Seth Schwartz and Shaye Cohen (see below).

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Christiane Saulnier, who partially adopts this perspective, explains the difference between this version of the events and the picture that Josephus paints in his work as follows: she considers that Josephus’ portrait of the Hasmoneans reflects a propaganda discourse which presented the dynasty as keen to protect the purity of the land and to force the non-Judean groups to convert, and suggests that the Hasmoneans themselves promoted this image in order to conciliate certain segments of the Judean society, even though the reality on the ground was different.246 She thus takes exactly the opposite view as those who consider that the narrative of the “forced conversions” was a form of anti-Hasmonean propaganda.247 ­Steven Weitzman takes a very similar approach, but develops it in more detail: he considers that the purpose of these accounts of forced circumcision was to suggest that the land had ben cleansed of impure non-Judeans, even as some of them were being integrated within the Judean society. In other words, he argues that the social reality of their integration was far more complex than Josephus implies, and that Hasmonean propaganda disguised their integration as zealous acts of Judaization.248 I note in passing that Saulnier and Weitzman’s interpretations of these “conversions” imply that Josephus reflects the image of the Hasmoneans that the dynasty sought to convey to the Judeans, and as such provides us with an insight into elements of their domestic propaganda.249 This position makes much more sense than the suggestion that Josephus repeated anti-Hasmonean arguments without even realizing it. Inspired in part by the early work of Uriel Rappaport, Morton Smith examines the Judaization or integration of foreign communities within the Judean state in a new perspective, which relativizes the importance of “religious” factors and emphasizes the political, economic and military objectives of the Hasmoneans: “Their primary purpose was to build an important military power based on an extensive political and economic union; therefore they pursued possible soldiers and tax-­payers with missionary zeal.”250 Smith also argues that these “converted” communities provided the Hasmoneans, who faced significant levels of contestation at home from John Hyrcanus onwards, with a new contingent of supporters (assuming, of course, that these groups, or at the very least their elites, had voluntarily opted for Judai246 Saulnier, “Le cadre politico-religieux en Palestine,” 207. See also Benedikt Eckhardt, “‘An Idumean, that is, a Half-Jew:’ Hasmoneans and Herodians Between Ancestry and Merit,” in Jewish Identity and Politics Between the Maccabees and Bar Kokhba: Groups, Normativity, and Rituals (ed. B. Eckhardt; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 91–115 (see 109–110). 247 See for example Kasher, Jews, Idumaeans, and Ancient Arabs, 48. 248 Weitzman, “Forced Circumcision and the Shifting Role of Gentiles in Hasmonean Ideology,” HTR 92/1 (1999): 37–59 (see 58–59). 249 Contrary to the stance of Eyal Regev, who, giving in to excessive generalization, suggests that Josephus does not provide us with an insight into the Hasmoneans’ own vision; see The Hasmoneans, 11. 250 See Smith, “Rome and Maccabean Conversions: Notes on 1 Macc. 8,” in Donum Gentilicium (ed. D. Daube; London: Oxford University Press, 1978), 1–7 (the quotation is on p. 6). He bases his argument in “The Gentiles in Judaism” on the same framework.

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zation), allowing the dynasty to bolster its position against its opponents. Initially, Smith suggested that the Hasmoneans had followed an “imperialist” policy akin to that of the Romans, forging alliances with some of their enemies and giving them a stake in the Judean society comparable to the Roman citizenship that Rome offered to its Italian allies.251 However, Smith eventually revised this hypothesis, probably because he realized that its assumptions were rather anachronistic – at least as far as the period of John Hyrcanus and Aristobulus I was concerned. This led him to develop a new interpretation, suggesting that the “Judaization” of the Samaritans, Idumeans, Itureans and Galileans allowed the Hasmoneans to forge a political and military alliance with these nations, which was motivated in part by their shared hostility to the “Greeks” (and also, in the case of the Judeans, Idumeans, and Itureans, by the fact that they shared a common rival in the Nabateans).252 As such, Smith argues that the word Ioudaios should be understood to mean “a member of the Judaeo-Samaritan-Idumaean-Ituraean-Galilean alliance;” indeed, he goes as far as suggesting that the phrase ․hever ha-Yehudim, which is inscribed on the coins minted by Alexander Jannaeus refers to the members of this alliance, rather than to the Judeans alone.253 However, Smith considers that the majority of the Idumeans 251 See “Rome and Maccabean Conversions”. Martin Goodman adopts a similar stance when he writes that “It may be preferable to accept the hypothesis that those conversions were a political gambit which may have owed something to the example set by the Roman Republic in the spread of Roman citizenship over Italy: the notion, at least in theory, of an indefinite expansion of citizenship in this way was found in the ancient world only among Jews and Romans and, since the latter had found it strikingly advantageous in the centuries immediately preceding the Hasmonean dynasty, it would not be at all surprising if the Jewish monarchs, who were eager to maintain contact with the Romans, followed suit” (Mission and Conversion, 76). However, it is not clear whether the “indefinite expansion” of the Judean citizenship ever was a Hasmonean goal; see my analysis of the sources, below. Seth Schwartz probably draws on Morton Smith when he writes that: “In other words, I am suggesting that Hasmonean imperialism was a small-scale version of Roman imperialism” (Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 40, note 55). He goes on to add that “When they imposed Judaism on their subjects, the Hasmoneans may have been motivated by the biblical idea that the Land of Israel should be ‘unpolluted’ by idolatry. Or they may have been inspired by the example of their allies and friends the Romans, who had for centuries been successfully expanding their territory by combining exceptionally violent military activity with judicious grants of Roman citizenship to some of the people they conquered,” and refers his readers to Morton Smith’s article. Avi Avidov also draws on Morton Smith’s article, when he asserts that, as in the case of Rome, the Hasmonean expansion was based on a combination of policies of aggression and integration, that the Hasmoneans consciously imitated the Romans, and that the conversions were motivated by their need to counter the threat of domestic opposition (Not Reckoned among Nations. The Origins of the So-called “Jewish Question” in Roman Antiquity [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009], 110–111). 252 Smith, “The Gentiles,” 205 and 208. On the evolution of Morton Smith’s views, see also Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 127, note 49 (for a more complete reference see infra). 253 Ibid., 210 and 215–216. The inscription h.ever ha-Yehudim, which is specific to Hasmonean coins, is traditionally understood to refer to the representatives of the Judean people in the strict sense of the term, i. e. of ethnic Judeans. Some scholars have argued that this expression refers to the people of Judea as a whole, as opposed to a council such as a boulē. See in particular

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and Itureans remained polytheists.254 In his article on “The Gentiles in Judaism,” he also emits the hypothesis that the notion that the Judeans and Idumeans had ties of kinship may have played a role in the integration of the Idumeans into Judean society; however, he is more cautious in the case of the Itureans.255 In his argument on the issue of the “forced conversions,” Seth Schwartz draws in part on the ideas of Morton Smith – especially the notion that the Judeans and Idumeans shared kinship and cultural ties, and the view that the Judeans and their allies all benefited militarily and economically from plundering newly-conquered cities, especially on the coast and in Transjordan, under Jannaeus. Seth Schwartz argues that the integration of the Idumeans, Galileans, Itureans etc. involved their conversion to Judaism, but that this process probably took place over time and may have never been completed: The annexed districts seem to have retained a sort of limited autonomy under the rule of native governors who may have enjoyed the status of “friendship” with the Judaean king (cf. Ant. 14.10). … Thus, the Idumaeans became Jewish but remained simultaneously Idumaeans. The Judaism of the annexed districts must indeed have been gradually adopted and was perhaps not at first very deep.256

This leads him to conclude that the changes this process entailed may not have been that radical for the people involved, in the end.257 Schwentzel, Juifs et Nabatéens, 88–91; Regev, The Hasmoneans, 186–199. 254 “The Gentiles,” 210. See also Eckhardt, “An Idumean,” 101: “There probably was no ‘forced circumcision’ in the sense often understood but rather a functional, political arrangement in order to secure for the expanding Hasmonean state a common official image of identity and cultic practice, enabling the inhabitants from different regions to join in commercial activities. The Idumeans had to be declared officially circumcised. What they did in unofficial contexts probably did not bother the elites of Hasmonean Judea.” 255 Smith, ibid., 208. 256 Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 37–39. Schwartz also writes (on p. 38) that “John’s treatment of the Greek cities thus forms a sharp contrast to his treatment of the non-Greek ethnic territories, which he apparently recognized as partly autonomous components of his state, provided the inhabitants became Jewish. … Like the other non-Greek inhabitants of Palestine, the Galileans were forced/encouraged to convert to Judaism.” However, he establishes the following distinction on p. 52: “Therefore, though we can be fairly certain that by the first century C.E. most inhabitants of the non-Judaean districts of the Palestinian hinterland had by and large internalized some version of the ideology that was centrally constitutive of Judaism, we must not assume that their Judaism was indistinguishable from that of the Judaeans”. 257 In the same perspective, see also Horsley, “The Expansion of Hasmonean Rule”. Seth Schwartz revisited the issue of theses “conversions” in “Conversion to Judaism in the Second Temple Period: A Functionalist Approach,” in Studies in Josephus and the Varieties of Ancient Judaism: Louis H. Feldman Jubilees Volume (S. J. D. Cohen and J. J. Schwartz, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 223–236. In this article, Schwartz emphasizes the role of kinship ties between different ethnic groups, as well as the sociological dimension of these “conversions,” which helped the elites to forge interethnic alliances. In summary, “conversion functioned to resolve the tension between the need for interethnic elite alliances – a need created by the political and economic

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The notion that the Judeans had forged a political and religious alliance with their neighbours – with whom they shared certain cultural traits, such as the practice of circumcision – has also been developed by Shaye Cohen, initially in an article published in 1990, and later in his 1999 book, The Beginnings of Jewish­ness.258 Cohen argues that, although the Idumeans and Itureans were to some extent constrained to rally the Judeans, they were nevertheless also motivated by the fact that they were open to the Judean lifestyle and shared a common hatred of the “Greeks”.259 Yet, Cohen suggests that the notion of Hellenistic citizenship influenced the Hasmonean policy toward these populations: according to him, the integration of the Idumeans and Itureans in the Judean society was based on the idea that Judaism was a politeia capable of incorporating new citizens. Drawing on the ideas of Morton Smith, he even envisages the possibility that the Hasmoneans may have been influenced by the model of Greek confederations, such as the Achaean league.260 In other words, when the Idumeans and Itureans joined forces with the Judeans, they adopted their lifestyle, constitution (politeia) and name, as well as their temple and cult.261 However, Cohen considers that this alliance was political rather than “religious” (as opposed to Achior’s conversion in the Book of Judith, for example), and he believes – like Morton Smith and Seth Schwartz – that the Idumeans and Itureans kept at least some of their cultural and cultual traditions.262 He also fragmentation of the eastern Mediterranean world generated by geography and fostered by the Assyrian, Persian, and Hellenistic empires – and the increasingly socially important demand made by Jewish religious norms that the Jews keep separate from their neighbors. When the fragmentation, and the interethnic friendships which were its corollary, were brought to an end by the centralizing tendencies of the Roman imperial state in the course of the first century C.E., conversion, now attested mainly in diaspora communities, changed functions” (p. 224). 258 S. J. D. Cohen, “Religion, Ethnicity, and ‘Hellenism’ in the Emergence of Jewish Identity in Maccabean Palestine”; idem, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties. 259 The Beginnings of Jewishness, 118. 260 He makes a reference to Polybius 2.37.10–11, who writes that the cities who had forged these alliances shared the same laws, the same weights and measures, the same currency, and even the same magistrates, counsels and judges. Although this may have applied to the Judeans and Idumeans, we shall see that it is unlikely that this was the case between the Judeans and the Itureans. 261 The Beginnings of Jewishness, 125–129. 262 Ibid., p. 137: “No doubt the Idumaeans, as part of the price for joining the Judaean League, accepted the God of the Judaeans and agreed to abide by his laws (at least some of them), but they also were able to retain a measure of their old Idumaean culture and religion.” Whether or not some of the cultual practices of the Idumeans endured in practice among the population, it seems to me that Cohen is wrong to dissociate the political from the religious. Instead, the political and the religious were closely linked: any form of civic belonging usually involved worshipping the city’s gods. If we use the model of citizenship to think of the integration of the Idumeans, as Cohen does, their submission to Judean laws, including cultual laws, would have gone without saying. However, private practices were another matter. Like Cohen, Daniel Schwartz also speaks of the separation of religion and state in a discussion of the Hasmonean

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does not think that they became ethnic Judeans:263 “In order to resist the forces of assimilation, Judaism became like Hellenism, a citizenship and a way of life open to people of diverse origins.”264 In their works, Morton Smith, Seth Schwartz and Shaye Cohen raise the question of what the Judaization of non-Judean groups meant under John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I, and Alexander Jannaeus: was their Judaization merely a political arrangement, i. e. a form of alliance, or did it also have a cultual and cultural dimension? And if so what was it? Did the Idumeans really become Judeans? We have to return to the sources, in order to try and answer these questions.

3.1 The Idumeans 3.1.1 Josephus’ account of the Judaization of the Idumeans

In his account, in Ant. 13.257–258, of John Hyrcanus’ conquest of the Idumean cities of Adora and Marisa, Josephus writes that the Hasmonean leader after subduing all the Idumaeans, permitted them to remain in their country (ἐπέτρεψεν αὐτοῖς μένειν ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ) so long as they had themselves circumcised and were willing to observe the laws of the Judeans (εἰ περιτέμνοιντο τὰ αἰδοῖα καὶ τοῖς Ἰουδαίων νόμοις265 χρήσασθαι θέλοιεν). And so, out of attachment to the dynasty, although he does not use a civic model to interpret the policy of the Hasmoneans. He writes: “But when the rebellion was won, we find that Hellenization had been so profound that the Hasmonean victors, after first turning to forceful conversion as a way of dealing with the problem of Gentile subjects, quickly, already under Aristobulus I Philhellenos (! – Ant. 13.318), turned to a Hellenistic solution. Namely, accepting the definition of Judaism à la Hellenism as an ism, they added the royal crown to their high-priestly miter and called upon the Gentile subjects to render obedience to them not as religious figures but rather only as temporal overlords. That is, they separated religion from state – just as Greeks, who created “Hellenism”, had separated Greek from Greece” (Schwartz, Studies in the Jewish Background of Christianity [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992], 12; my emphasis). Schwartz assimilates cultural and institutional aspects together in these lines, which is a little confusing. See the rest of my discussion of the Hasmonean policy of “conversions,” infra. 263 On this question, see § 3.4 (infra). In the context of his discussion of the Judaization of the Idumeans, Cohen does not clearly define the notion of ethnicity, even though it can be understood in many ways, for example with or without reference to shared ancestors. See J. ­McInerney (ed.), A Companion to Ethnicity in the Ancient Mediterranean (Chichester, West Sussex: Blackwell, 2014). 264 Cohen, ibid., 138. In The Hasmoneans, Eyal Regev largely follows Shaye Cohen, but without drawing the conclusions suggested by the adoption of a Hellenistic model which does not involve ethnicity. In particular, he insists on seeing these “conversions” as a form of “nationalism” or of “commitment to Jewish identity”. In other words, he more or less reproduces what has been identified by Steven Weitzman as Hasmonean propaganda. See Regev, The Hasmoneans, 24, and note 59. 265 Or νομίμοις, according to MSS A, M, W and E.

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ancestral land, they accepted [lit.: endured] the same (practice of) circumcision and the same way of life, in other [respects as well], as the Judeans (οἱ δὲ πόθῳ τῆς πατρίου γῆς καὶ τὴν περιτομὴν καὶ τὴν ἄλλην τοῦ βίου δίαιταν ὑπέμειναν τὴν αὐτὴν Ἰουδαίοις ποιήσασθαι). And they became Judeans themselves from this point onwards (κἀκείνοις αὐτοῖς χρόνος ὑπῆρχεν ὥστε εἶναι τὸ λοιπὸν Ἰουδαίους). (Ant. 13.257– 258; my translation)266

First of all, it is interesting to observe that, in this passage – as indeed in his account of the campaign of Judas Maccabeus against Hebron and its territory in Ant. 12.353 – Josephus clearly describes Idumea as the ancestral land of the Idumeans: at no point does he suggest that Idumea was once part of the Judean territory, or that the Judeans are its rightful owners because God gave this land to their ancestors. The terms imposed on the Idumeans by Hyrcanus are very clear: they had to accept circumcision, and adopt all the laws (or customs) which formed the basis of the Judean lifestyle. At the very least, these laws/customs must have included the cult of YHWH at the temple of Jerusalem and the tax levied for this cult.267 However, even if other laws and customs spring to mind, Josephus only provides us with precise information on circumcision.268 Circumcision was one of the Judean customs (or laws) as well as a marker of ethnicity (relatively to the Greeks, at least), but in the Bible it also symbolizes the covenant between God and Israel, as well as between Israel and other peoples. Thus, in Genesis 34, the covenant between Israel and the population of Shechem (following the rape of Dinah) implied the circumcision of the men of Shechem, but this did not seem to involve their “conversion.” In his account of the circumcision of the Idumeans in Ant. 13.257–258, Josephus provides us with more information than is suggested in Ralph Marcus’ translation of this passage for the Loeb Classical Library, when he writes that “they submitted to circumcision.” In reality, in the phrase τὴν αὐτὴν Ἰουδαίοις (“the same … as the Judeans”), τὴν αὐτὴν (“the same”) is a distributive expression, referring not only to 266 In another passage of Antiquities, Josephus briefly recalls this episode, in the context of his account of the friendship between Herod and Costobar: “Hyrcanus had altered their way of life (or: constitution [politeia]), and (made them adopt) the customs and statutes of the Judeans (τὰ Ἰουδαίων ἔθη καὶ νόμιμα)” (Ant. 15.254; trans. Marcus, LCL, 119–121, slightly modified). On Costobar, see infra. 267 It is however not certain that the tax of half a shekel was a practice implemented by the Hasmoneans, as Eyal Regev argues: the sources that he quotes are too late to be convincing (see The Hasmoneans, 73–77). 268 Cf. Seth Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 39: “The Judaism of the annexed districts must indeed have been gradually adopted and was perhaps not at first very deep. Surely it involved loyalty to the Jerusalem Temple and submission to the legal authority of the high priest. Its main initial effect, though, must have been to change the character of the public life in the annexed districts. John Hyrcanus I shut down not only the Israelite temple on Mount Gerizim but also the pagan temples of Idumaea. Perhaps town markets were closed on the Sabbath. But otherwise, life, even religious life, in the annexed districts at first went on pretty much as before”.

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δίαιταν (“way of life”), but also to περιτομὴν (“circumcision”). In other words, the Idumeans were required to adopt the Judean practice of circumcision (for example by circumcising new-borns on the eighth day of their life, or other aspects of this practice which elude us). Reading Josephus’ text in this light solves an issue raised by many commentators: namely, the fact that the Idumeans already practised circumcision before the Judean conquest. Indeed, the archaeological excavation of the site of Maresha (Marisa) under the direction of Amos Kloner has shown that circumcision was not only widespread among rural Idumeans, but also in the large urban centre of Marisa,269 which had a diverse population. As well as Hellenized Idumeans – or Hellenized Syrians, more generally – the population of Marisa included a community of Sidonians (at least that is how they introduced themselves; their names were in fact not typically Phoenician),270 as well as Idumeans who practiced circumcision, used baths that were strikingly similar to the Judean miqvaot, and venerated non-anthropomorphic gods represented by abstract symbols. In a 2011 article, Amos Kloner argues powerfully that these ritual baths pre-date the Hasmonean conquest.271 Similarly, the carvings of circumcised phalli that were found in several houses date from before 111 B.C.E. (John Hyrcanus’ conquest of Idumea is currently dated to 111 B.C.E. at the earliest).272 In other words, circumcision and some of the cultural features associated with the Judeans also characterized a segment of the Idumean population, at least, including in the largely Hellenized city of Marisa. This being said, the more Hellenized members of the Idumean population had probably abandoned the practice of circumcision, as indeed those Judeans who are implied to have had their foreskin reconstructed in the First Book of Maccabees (1 Macc 1:15). In other words, the practice of circumcision is attested in the Idumean population as a whole, and not only among rural Idumeans. As such, the archaeological data both corroborates and infirms Aryeh Kasher’s thesis273 that rural Idumeans,

269 See Maresha Excavations Final Report III: Epigraphic Finds from the 1989–2000 Seasons (ed. A. Kloner et al.; Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010), esp. 1–2, 32, 205, 220–221. 270 See OGIS 593. 271 Kloner, “The Identity of the Idumeans based on the Archaeological Evidence from Maresha,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period: Negotiating Identity in an International Context (ed. O. Lipschits et al.; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 563–573. The excavation of Marisa has also led to the discovery of an Idumean marriage contract (dated 176 B.C.E.), which has many parallels with later Judean marriage contracts; see E. Eshel and A. Kloner, “An Aramaic Ostracon of an Edomite Marriage Document from Maresha, Dated 176 BCE,” Tarbiz 63 (1994): 485–502 (Heb.). 272 On these representations, see also I. Stern, “Ethnic Identities and Circumcised Phalli at Hellenistic Maresha,” Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 30 (2012): 57–87 (p. 62). 273 Kasher, Jews, Idumaeans, and Ancient Arabs, 46–62.

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who were culturally Semitic and practised circumcision, submitted voluntarily to the Hasmoneans, unlike the Hellenized urban populations of Idumea.274 Does this mean that the Idumeans were voluntarily integrated into Judea, and that Josephus’ account of this episode is misleading? It does seem clear that, as Israel Shatzman argues, based on Josephus’ account of this episode and on archaeological evidence of the destruction of sites such as Beer-Sheba, John Hyrcanus really did conquer Idumea, and that the Idumeans initially rallied the Judeans under constraint, rather than spontaneously, as Aryeh Kasher suggests.275 In fact, some of the Idumeans chose to go into exile, as Uriel Rappaport has shown, in a study of the data on Idumean settlements in Egypt.276 Thus, an inscription dated to 112 B.C.E. (OGIS 737) shows that an Idumean community was created in Memphis at the end of the second century B.C.E., just before the conquest of Idumea by Hyrcanus.277 Another community – which, according to Rappaport, was an offshoot of the first – is attested in Hermopolis Magna, although in this case the inscriptions only date from the first century B.C.E. (from 80 or 79 B.C.E.).278 These Egyptian Idumeans do not show any signs of Judaization: instead, they continued to worship Apollo–Qos (or Cos). Indeed, in Idumea itself, the cult of the god Qos did not die out entirely. Instead, theophoric names such as Costobar were still in use almost a century later. Thus, in Antiquities, Josephus relates an anecdote on a man of that name, whose ancestors had been the priests of the god Qos, and who was a member of the “Judaized” Idumean elite. This man who was close to Herod and had even married his sister Salome, criticized the subordination of the Idumeans to the Judeans, “for he did not think that it was proper … for the Idumeans to adopt the [customs] of the Judeans and be subject to them (τοῖς Ἰδουμαίοις τὰ Ἰουδαίων μεταλαβοῦσιν ὑπ᾿ ἐκείνοις εἶναι)” (Ant. 15.255; trans. Marcus, LCL, 121). However, Herod had him put to death, as a reward for his aspiration to independence. In other words, not all the Idumeans wholeheartedly rallied to Judea and the Hasmonean dynasty. Yet, it seems that a part of the Idumean population, at least, welcomed their integration into Judea and did not look back. Their cultural proximity to the Judeans, which has been highlighted by the excavations at Marisa, 274 See Cohen’s more nuanced and complete version of this scenario, in The Beginnings of Jewishness, 115–117. 275 Shatzman, “On the Conversion of the Idumeans,” in For Uriel. Studies in the History of Israel in Antiquity Presented to Professor Uriel Rappaport (ed. M. Mor et al.; Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2005), 213–241 (Heb.). 276 Rappaport, “Les Iduméens en Égypte,” Revue de philologie, de littérature et d’histoire anciennes 43 (1969): 73–82; according to his onomastic analysis, these Idumeans came from Marisa (see 76–77). See also P. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), 1:280–281 and 2:438, n. 750 and 751. 277 Cf. Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence,” 47. 278 It may be that the first Idumean settlement became overcrowded following the arrival of a new wave of Idumean immigrants, and that this led some of them to settle in Hermopolis Magna.

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helps to clarify this phenomenon.279 Uriel Rappaport rightly emphasizes the fact that the integration of the Idumeans into the Judean society would not have lasted if it had simply been achieved under constraint. This leads him to suggest that, in light of the historical data and the permanence of the ties between the Idumeans and the Judeans after the arrival of the Romans in 63 B.C.E., it is preferable to conceive of their integration as a gradual process during which some Idumeans became closer to, and started adopting the cult and lifestyle of, the Judeans.280 Thus, some of the grander Idumean families placed themselves in the service of the Hasmoneans, most famously Antipater, whose son Herod would one day be king of Judea.281 Marriages were also contracted, at least between the most high born families. Above all, the fact that Josephus tells us that Idumean contingents fought in the war against Rome speaks volume about the attachment of the Idumeans to Judea and the temple of Jerusalem.282 According to Alan Applebaum, Josephus disliked all the groups who tried to resist Rome, and was too bent on caricaturing and condemning the Idumeans, to be able or willing to consider the role that their genuine attachment to Jerusalem and its sanctuary and cult had played in their decision to take part in the war.283 I shall return again later to Josephus’ testimony, but for now let us focus on what Ptolemy and Strabo have to say about the Idumeans during the Hasmonean period.

3.1.2 Ptolemy the Historian’s account of the Idumeans

Ptolemy the Historian, the author of a biography of Herod (On King Herod), is sometimes identified as the brother of Nicolaus of Damascus,284 and sometimes

279 See also U. Rappaport, “The Judaization of the Idumeans at the time of John Hyrcanus,” in Israel’s Land: Papers Presented to Israel Shatzman on his Jubilee (ed. J. Geiger et al.; Raanana: The Open University of Israel, 2009), 59–74 (Heb.); idem, The House of the Hasmoneans, 263–269. Rappaport argues that, in parallel to the process of Hellenization attested in Marisa (for example), at least some of the Idumeans (as well as various other ethnic groups settled in the vicinity of the Judeans) were also culturally influenced by the Judeans. In his view, this explains the terms that Hyrcanus proposed to the Idumeans and the fact that a number of them were willing to accept them. 280 See the previous footnote and The House of the Hasmoneans, 269 and note 66. 281 On the role of the Idumean elites at the Hasmonean court and their swift integration into the Judean society, see A. Kolman Marshak, “Rise of the Idumeans: Ethnicity and Politics in Herod’s Judea,” in Jewish Identity and Politics Between the Maccabees and Bar Kokhba: Groups, Normativity, and Rituals (ed. B. Eckhardt; Leiden: Brill, 2012), 117–129. 282 See J.W. 4.224.229.566–576; 5.248–249; 6.378–383. 283 Appelbaum, “’The Idumaeans’ in Josephus’ The Jewish War,” JSJ 40/ (2009): 1–22. See in particular J.W. 4.278–279. See also Kasher, Jews, Idumaeans, and Ancient Arabs, 63; and also Israel Ronen’s contribution in the same book, “Formation of Jewish Nationalism Among the Idumeans,” 214–239 (see 224–239 on the war against Rome). 284 See Reinach, Textes d’auteurs grecs et romains, 87.

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as the grammarian Ptolemy of Ascalon.285 The very brief extract that interests us here is part of the entry Ἰδουμαῖοι found in Ammonius’ treatise De adfinium vocabulorum differentia, which dates from the beginning of the second century C.E. at the latest.286 It seems that Ptolemy touched on the difference between the Judeans and the Idumeans in the context of his discussion of Herod: Judeans and Idumeans differ, as Ptolemy states in the first book of [his] On King Herod. Judeans are those who are so originally, by nature. The Idumeans, on the other hand, were not originally Judeans, but Phoenicians and Syrians (Ἰουδαῖοι μὲν γάρ εἰσιν οἱ ἐξ ἀρχῆς φυσικοί, Ἰδουμαῖοι δὲ τὸ μὲν ἀρχῆθεν οὐκ Ἰουδαῖοι ἀλλὰ Φοίνικες καὶ Σύροι); having been subjugated by them [the Judeans] and having been forced to undergo circumcision, to contribute [taxes] to the nation,287 and to keep the same customs, they were called Judeans (κρατηθέντες δὲ ὑπ᾿ αὐτῶν καὶ ἀναγκασθέντες περιτέμνεσθαι καὶ συντελεῖν εἰς τὸ ἔθνος288 καὶ τὰ αὐτὰ νόμιμα ἡγεῖσθαι ἐκλήθησαν Ἰουδαῖοι). (translation based on that of Menahem Stern, GLAJJ, 1:356)

The reference in these lines to “Phoenicians” and “Syrians” is rather odd. However, as Israel Shatzman observes, anyone living in Idumea could be described as “Idumean,” regardless of their ethnicity, and the presence of Sidonians in Marisa (according to OGIS 593) could suggest that the Idumeans had Phoenician origins.289 As for the reference to the “Syrian” background of some Idumeans, it is probably related to the fact that the name “Syria” was used to describe the region as a whole (this is attested in Strabo for example, or indeed in Josephus).290 As such, this particular aspect of Ptolemy’s account is not so much problematic, as imprecise. 285 See for example Schürer, Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes im Zeitalter Jesu Christi, 1:48–49; Hölscher, Die Quellen des Josephus, 57, 80. 286 See Reinach, Textes d’auteurs grecs et romains, 88–89 (he refers the reader to the edition of Valckenaer-Schaefer [Leipzig, 1822] s.v. Ἰδουμαῖοι); Stern, GLAJJ, 1:355–356. 287 On this translation, see also Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 113. On συντελεῖν εἰς in the sense of “to make a (financial) contribution” or “to pay (a sum of X amount) for,” see Thucydides 2.15.2; 4.76.3; Demosthenes, Against Leptines 28; Aeschines, Against Ctesiphon 95. Its translation as “to belong to,” “to be counted among” (cf. Stern’s translation, “to be counted among the Jewish nation”; GLAJJ, 1:356), is based on this financial meaning, as Liddell-Scott explains: “συντελεῖν εἰς τοὺς ἱππεῖς, etc., strictly to pay to the knights or the class of knights and so, to belong to this class or body (because at Athens all citizens were classed acc. to their τίμημα, or rateable property); then, generally, to belong to it, be counted in a class or body…” (Liddell-Scott, 1444). If we were to keep the reading ἔθος (see the next footnote), we could also translate this phrase as “to take part together in the custom;” however, this would be rather odd and redundant in light of what comes afterwards. 288 Reinach corrects ἔθος in the group θ of the manuscripts by ἔθνος, arguing that otherwise “la phrase n’est pas grecque” (Textes d’auteurs grecs et romains, 88); Stern does the same (GLAJJ, 1:356). 289 See Shatzman, “On the Conversion of the Idumeans,” 220–224 (esp. 222). 290 See J.W. 1.62–63.

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Ptolemy seems to consider that circumcision was not an Idumean custom. It may be that he was misled on this point by his attribution of Phoenician origins to the Idumeans, and by the notion, which can be traced to Herodotus (2.104), that the Phoenicians stopped practicing circumcision when they came into contact with the Greeks. The fact that some Idumeans did become Hellenized and did in fact stop practising circumcision may also explain Ptolemy’s statement. For Ptolemy, as for Josephus, the Idumeans were forcibly integrated into Judean society, and this process involved the imposition of circumcision, and the adoption of Judean customs (νόμιμα) more widely. Josephus also uses the term νόμιμα, instead of the word for “laws,” in Ant. 15.254 (in the context of a passage on Costobar), and before this in Ant. 13.257 according to some manuscripts. Both Ptolemy and Josephus also claim that the Idumeans were referred to as, or even considered to be, “Judeans” from that point onwards. However, Josephus does not mention that the Idumeans were taxed (συντελεῖν εἰς τὸ ἔθνος, if we accept that ἔθος should be corrected to ἔθνος). It is unclear whether the Idumeans as a whole were placed under tribute because they had a lower status (a hypothesis which may be corroborated by Ant. 15.255), or whether they had to pay taxes – and notably the tithe levied by the temple of Jerusalem – in the same way as other Judeans.291 According to Israel Shatzman, Josephus’ account in Ant. 13.257–258 is based on Nicolaus of Damascus.292 This hypothesis is rather appealing, especially since it seems likely (even if we do not believe that Ptolemy should be identified as the brother of Nicolaus) that Nicolaus was close to Ptolemy, who wrote a book called On King Herod; certainly, this could explain why Josephus and Ptolemy’s accounts converge.

3.1.3 Strabo’s account of the Idumeans

Strabo’s own description of the Idumeans diverges from these two convergent accounts of their forced integration into Judean society. In Geography (16.2.34), Strabo locates the Idumeans “on the western edge of Judea, in the direction of Mount Cassius” and suggests that they were originally Nabateans who, having been chased from Nabatea following a rebellion, joined the Judeans, and started

291 In the Book of Jubilees, the Edomites are said to have been subjected to the Israelites, who have enslaved them and forced them to pay them a tribute in perpetuity from the days of Jacob and Esau “until this day” (38:14). With all due respect to Doron Mendels, it is not clear that this episode should be read in light of the campaign that John Hyrcanus waged in Idumea: it all depends on how we interpret the sources on John’s policy towards the Idumeans, and on whether we follow Strabo, or the interpretation of Ptolemy that I propose here; indeed Josephus’ account is itself difficult to interpret as suggesting that the Idumeans were reduced into slavery, especially in light of the rise of some Idumean families, such as Antipater’s. See Mendels, The Land of Israel, 74–82. 292 “The Hasmoneans in Greco-Roman Historiography,” 37.

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to share their customs.293 Elsewhere in Geography (16.2.2), Strabo distinguishes between Coele-Syria, Phoenicia and Judea, but omits to mention the separate region known as Idumea, which is coherent with his claim that the Idumeans were integrated into Judean society. However, he does state that other authors divide Syria in three groups – the Coele-Syrians, Syrians and Phoenicians – and that these groups are themselves intermixed with four other peoples (ἔθνη): the Judeans, the Idumeans, the population of Gaza, and that of Azotus. Menahem Stern explains that this statement about “other authors” reflects the situation “before the twenties of the second century BCE, since afterwards the Idumeans merged into the Jewish nation.”294 However, Strabo himself describes the Idumeans as a group that was integrated into Judean society. This does not exclude the possibility that, in his eyes, they still constituted a distinct ἔθνος, even as they shared the same νόμιμα as the Judeans. He is nevertheless not explicit on this point. If we compare Strabo’s account of the Idumeans with what Josephus and Ptolemy have to say about them, we can see that the motif of the adoption of the Judean νόμιμα by the Idumeans is also present in Strabo’s work, except that this adoption is either described as voluntary or based on another type of constraint – their expulsion from the Nabatean kingdom –, in which the Judeans were not involved. Moreover, Strabo does not suggest that they were subjected to circumcision or that they had to pay a tribute. Although the “customs” (νόμιμα) of the Judeans may of course have included circumcision, it is odd that he does not mention it, when Josephus and Ptolemy both emphasize it so much. Israel Shatzman argues that we should follow Josephus and Ptolemy on the Idumeans, and that the reason why Strabo’s narrative diverges from theirs is that he depended for his information on Artemidorus, who himself probably relied on Agatharchides.295 According to Shatzman, Strabo’s account describes Idumea before its conquest by John Hyrcanus. Shatzman points out that the verb προσεχώρησαν (“joined” [the Judeans]) can be taken in a purely geographic sense, and understood to refer to the migration of the Idumeans from Transjordan to the Negev, south of the Dead Sea and in the region of Hebron, in the south of the ancient kingdom of Judah. The migration of the Idumeans is attested from the seventh century B.C.E. and their penetration into an area on the border of Judea dates back to the Persian period.296 It is possible to think that Strabo’s narrative in fact reflects the gradual rapprochement that took place between the Judeans and Idumeans, before Hyr293 τῆς δ᾽ Ἰουδαίας τὰ μὲν ἑσπέρια ἄκρα τὰ πρὸς τῷ Κασίῳ κατέχουσιν Ἰδουμαῖοί τε καὶ ἡ λίμνη. Ναβαταῖοι δ᾽ εἰσὶν οἱ Ἰδουμαῖοι, κατὰ στάσιν δ᾽ ἐκπεσόντες ἐκεῖθεν προσεχώρησαν τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις καὶ τῶν νομίμων τῶν αὐτῶν ἐκείνοις ἐκοινώνησαν. 294 GLAJJ, 1:287. 295 See Shatzman, “On the Conversion of the Idumeans,” 214–218. 296 Shatzman, ibid., 217. See also A. Lemaire, “D’Édom à l’Idumée et à Rome,” in Des sumériens aux romains d’Orient: la perception géographique du monde (ed. A. Sérandour; Paris: Jean Maisonneuve and Librairie d’Amérique et d’Orient, 1997), 81–103.

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canus conquered Idumea, which helps to explain why, later on, a segment of the Idumean population decided to become integrated into Judea, and adopt the customs and the cult of the Judeans. Shatzman’s view that this text by Strabo does not refer to what happened to the Idumeans under John Hyrcanus, resolves the contradiction between his account and those of Josephus and Ptolemy. If, however, we reject Shatzman’s explanation and maintain that Strabo refers in the passage quoted above to events that occurred under the Hasmoneans, this means that Strabo’s version of this episode is very inexact, and that it probably reflects the entanglement of the Judeans and Idumeans in the Herodian era, that is to say the consequence of the Hasmonean policy a few decades later.

3.1.4 Was the Judaization of the Idumeans an innovation on the biblical models? According to Shaye Cohen, there is no precedent in the Bible for the Judaization of the Idumeans. He argues that it does not tally with the case of the Canaanites (who had to be expelled or killed, as opposed to integrated into Israel), or with that of the gerim, a Hebrew word often translated as “foreign residents” because it designates the non-Israelites who were permanently settled in the midst of the sons of Israel. Cohen recalls that in the case of the biblical gerim, there was no such thing as a ceremony to mark their integration into Israel, and no “conversion” in the sense that this word takes later on in the rabbinic sources. Although he is right on this point, there is no mention in the sources which mention the Idumeans of any ceremony marking their integration either (the imposition of circumcision is hardly equivalent with a ceremony, especially for those who were already circumcised), nor of “conversions” in the rabbinic sense of the term. Cohen is quite right to speak of the “Judaization” – as opposed to the “conversion” – of the Idumeans: however, it remains unclear what practices this term refers to exactly, and the extent to which the actual situation of the Idumeans differed from the portrayal of the situation of the non-Israelites who were integrated within Israel in the biblical texts.297 Cohen’s argument that the Idumeans were not gerim is essentially based on the fact that the Idumeans are described as Ioudaioi (i. e. Judeans), or at least are said to have become Judeans under Hyrcanus. Cohen reminds us that in the Bible, the gerim do not become Israelites. This leads him to argue that the stance of the Hasmoneans towards non-Israelites was of a different nature than in the Bible. In his view, this innovation can only be explained by the fact that the Hasmoneans adopted a Hellenistic model of citizenship, making it possible to integrate new citizens into the civic body, regardless of their ethnic origins. According to him, this allowed the Idumeans to become Judean citizens, while retaining their 297

On the term “Judaization,” see Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 123.

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separate ethnic background and identity: in other words, they became Judeans in the political sense of the term.298 This theory raises several issues. Firstly, there is no evidence that the Idumeans were referred to as Judeans or Israelites in any Hasmonean source or Judean document dating from the Hasmonean period. The available sources on the Idumeans were produced by writers who were very removed from Hasmonean Judea, either culturally (Ptolemy, Strabo) or chronologically (Josephus). Ptolemy and Strabo both saw Judea from the outside, and what they write is essentially that the Idumeans became Judean subjects, and as such had to obey Judean laws.299 In other words, they became Judeans in the geographical and political sense of the term, as members of the Judean state. However, this does not mean that within the Judean society, the difference between the Israelites and non-Israelites (between those who were Judeans through their ancestry and those who were not) was abolished. As a matter of fact, Ptolemy establishes a very clear distinction between those who were Judeans by nature (φυσικοί), as a result of their origins (ἐξ ἀρχῆς) – i. e. those who had Judean (or, in a Jewish perspective, Israelite) ancestors – and those who became Judeans at a particular point in time and had no such ancestors. In the case of Josephus, the only way to understand what he means when he says that the Idumeans became “Judeans” is to look at what he says about the Idumeans who were his contemporaries. Cohen rightly observes that Josephus suggests that even if the Idumeans were a part of the Judean ethnos, they still constituted a separate ethnos.300 Thus, Josephus speaks of the ethnos of the Idumeans and their leaders in his account 298 Cohen argues that the word Ioudaios could have several different meanings, including: 1) a geographical meaning, according to which the word “Judeans” describes the residents of Judea or those who originally came from Judea; 2) an ethnic meaning, according to which the “Judeans” were part of the “Judean” ethnos by birth (genos), i. e. through their ancestry; 3) a political meaning: the “Judeans” were part of the “Judean League” (the phrase was coined by Shaye Cohen, using the model of the Achaean League) – i. e. they either forged an alliance with the Judeans, requiring them to adopt the Judean cult and laws, or became Judean “citizens;” 4) a “religious” meaning, in which the word “Judeans” (or “Jews”) describes people who could be settled anywhere, but had taken the individual decision to worship the God of Israel and lived in conformity with the Mosaic laws (cf. The Beginnings of Jewishness, 109–110, and more generally chapters 3 and 4 of this book). The four meanings of the word Ioudaios do not coincide exactly with the distinctions established by Morton Smith in “The Gentiles” (p. 210) – namely, 1) the descendants of Judah; 2) those born in Judea; 3) the “Jews,” i. e. those who belonged to the people chosen by YHWH; 4) those who were part of the Judean-Samaritan-Idumean-ItureanGali­lean alliance.  299 Cf. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 114, in connection with Ptolemy: “They were called Judaeans because they were thoroughly subjugated by the Judaeans”. 300 See Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 114: “Josephus makes abundantly clear that the Idumeans always retained their own ethnic identity.” In the case of Ptolemy, Cohen observes that even if we interpret συντελεῖν εἰς τὸ ἔθνος to mean that they were seen to have become part of the Judean ethnos, the term ethnos should not be understood literally. Instead, he argues that this would have meant that they were integrated into the Judean – i. e. Hasmonean – state (ibid.,

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of the Judean war against Rome (J.W. 4.228–232); moreover, he refers to the genos of the Idumeans in the context of a discussion of Costobar (Ant. 15.257). In other words, it seems that the two communities did not become one, and that the practice of distinguishing between people based on their lineage and ancestry had not disappeared: one was still descended from either Israelite or Idumean ancestors.301 What is the difference, in that case, between the Idumeans who were integrated within the Judean society from Hyrcanus onwards, and the gerim that are described in the biblical texts as integrated within Israel? If we examine the Torah (Pentateuch) in a global and synchronic perspective (i. e. without any concern for the date when the texts were presumed to have been written, which is how the Judeans approached it in the second century B.C.E.), we can see that although the word gerim can refer to foreigners with a cultural and social identity that sets them apart from their host society (such as the Israelites in Egypt), in most cases, a ger was a foreigner (i. e. a non-Israelite) who was socially integrated within Israel and shared its cult and rituals.302 Thus, the gerim had to follow most of the prohibitions imposed on the sons of Israel by the Torah, had to obey a certain number of commandments (notably regarding the sacrifices), and celebrated the festivals with them. However, they could only partake in the Passover meal if they were circumcised.303 This means that there was a time when a ger could conceivably not be circumcised: however, it was necessary to be circumcised in order to be completely integrated into the Israelite society and take part in the Passover ritual. It seems that in the post-exilic period, at least, circumcision became compulsory for all non-Israelites living permanently

114). In other words, they became “Judean citizens,” as opposed to ethnic Judeans. Cf. Stern, “Ethnic Identities,” 75: “These new ‘Judeans’ could retain their original ethnic identity as long as they declared their loyalty to the God of the Judeans”. 301 Hence the fact that the status of someone like Herod Agrippa I was a subject of discussion. I refer the reader to M. Thiessen, Contesting Conversion: Genealogy, Circumcision, and Identity in Ancient Judaism and Christianity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 96–107. For a discussion of the thesis that Benedikt Eckhardt develops in Ethnos und Herrschaft, see infra. 302 This is especially striking in Leviticus. 303 On the prohibitions, see for example Lev 17:10.13; 18:24–29; 20:2; 24:16. On the sacrifices, see Lev 17:8–9; 22:17–25; Num 15:14.16.26–27. On the festivals, see Exod 12:19 (during Passover, it was prohibited to eat leavened bread), Exod 20:10 (Sabbath), Lev 16:19 (Kippur), Deut 16:11 (Shavu‘ot); Deut 16:14 and 31:12 (Sukkot). On the need to be circumcised to take part in the Passover meal, see Exod 12:48. See R. Rendtorff, “The gēr in the Priestly Laws of the Pentateuch,” in Ethnicity and the Bible (ed. M. G. Brett; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 77–87; and The Foreigner and the Law: Perspectives from the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East (ed. R. Achenbach et al.; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2011), esp. the contributions of Rainer Albertz (“From Aliens to Proselytes: Non-Priestly and Priestly Legislation Concerning Strangers,” 53–69) and Christophe Nihan (“Resident Aliens and Natives in the Holiness Legislation,” 111–134). On the circumcision as a tool for integration in Gen 17 and Exod 12, see Jacob Wöhrle, “The Integrative Function of the Law of Circumcision,” in The Foreigner and the Law, 71–87.

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in the midst of the sons of Israel.304 This was a logical development, since, according to the Torah, the gerim participated to a large extent in the covenant between God and Israel. Thus, in Deuteronomy, Moses speaks to Israel in the following terms: Therefore diligently observe the words of this covenant, in order that you may succeed in everything that you do. 10 You stand assembled today, all of you, before the Lord your God – the leaders of your tribes, your elders, and your officials, all the men of Israel, 11 your children, your women, and the resident aliens (gerim) who are in your camp, both those who cut your wood and those who draw your water – 12 to enter into the covenant of the Lord your God, sworn by an oath, which the Lord your God is making with you today; 13 in order that he may establish you today as his people, and that he may be your God, as he promised you and as he swore to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. (Deut 29:9–13, NRSV, slightly modified)

All the different categories of people mentioned in these lines seem to be invited to “enter into the covenant,” obey the divine commandments, and be a part of God’s people, including the gerim.305 In other words, the latter are integrated into the people of Israel, although they remain non-Israelites because they are not descended from Israel. In the perspective of the biblical – especially sacerdotal – texts, a person’s genealogy could not be altered. Being an Israelite, a Levite, or a priest was not something you became, but something you either were or were not. “Conversion” – understood in the full sense of the word, as a full and complete integration into the Israelite ethnos – was not possible in the perspective of the Pentateuch. Indeed, it would only become possible later on. Circumcision had no impact on this state of affairs: this practice did not make a ger into an Israelite.306 According to the biblical texts, then, it seems that it was possible for non-Israelites to become durably integrated within the Israelite society – even if they probably had a lower status307 – if they showed respect for the laws of the Torah and 304 See in particular Ezek 14:7 and 47:22–23, which both give the gerim pride of place among the sons of Israel. Insofar as the gerim are supposed to offer sacrifices, and as access to the temple is prohibited to the uncircumcised in the Book of Ezekiel (Ezek 44:7–9), this means – a priori – that the gerim mentioned in the Book of Ezekiel were circumcised. 305 See also Deut 31:10–13, which decrees that the Law of Sukkot shall be read on the year of jubilee “before all Israel”: “Assemble the people – men, women, and children, as well as the resident aliens (gerim) residing in your towns – so that they may hear and learn to fear the Lord your God and to observe diligently all the words of this law.” In this case too, we see a people comprised of four categories of individuals: men, women, children, and gerim. See also Josh 8:33.35. 306 Cf. Thiessen, Contesting Conversion, 57–63. 307 The reference in Deuteronomy 29:10 to “the resident aliens (gerim) who are in your camp, both those who cut your wood and those who draw your water” recalls the passage in which the Canaanites were submitted to slave labour by Joshua (Josh 9:21.23.27). The phrase “slave labor” (mas ‘oved) which is used to describe the Canaanites under Solomon (1 Kgs 9:20–21) could also imply that the descendants of the Canaanites were seen to have the same status as the gerim. In the tenth century B.C.E., the author of Sefer Yosippon understood the integration of the

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observed almost all of them, like those who were Israelites by birth. Although the gerim may never have become sons of Israel, they really were a part of the people. This seems to have still been the prevailing model of integration in the second century B.C.E., at least in the community represented in the Qumran Damascus Document. According to this text, a ger could be integrated into the community, but the priests, Levites, and Israelites by birth had a higher rank. This text does not refer to a “proselyte” or a “convert” in the rabbinic sense of the term, but to an individual belonging to the biblical category of the ger.308 The priestly background of the community described in the Damascus Document explains why it still viewed the people according to strictly genealogical criteria, according to which you were born a priest, a Levite, an Israelite or a ger, and could not change the category in which your lineage placed you. Contrary to Shaye Cohen, I think that the process leading to the integration of the Idumeans into the Judean society was not fundamentally different from that of the non-Israelites that are referred to as gerim in the biblical texts. Like the gerim (at least from a certain period onwards), the Idumeans had to be circumcised (according to the rules of Judean circumcision, if we follow Josephus); like the gerim, they had to obey the laws of the Torah (i. e. the Judean laws); like some of the gerim, they could hold an enviable position in Judean society, while also being considered second-class members of that society (thus, king Herod himself was dubbed a “half-Judean” by his opponents); and, last but not least, like the gerim, they remained part of a group that was identified as having non-Israelite roots, because they were not beney Israel, descendants of the patriarch Israel.309 This is not to say that as they integrated the Idumeans into the Judean society, the Hasmoneans deliberately followed the biblical model of the ger, or referred themselves to Deut 23:9 in which third-generation Edomites are allowed to integrate the assembly (qahal) of Israel. It would in my view be erroneous to imagine that the Hasmoneans consulted the scrolls of the Torah in search of a “model” on which to base their policy. It is simply that, if we look at the facts transmitted by the available sources, there is nothing to distinguish the Idumeans who became Idumeans into the Hasmonean state in light of this frame of interpretation, using the phrase “slave labour” (mas ‘oved) to speak of the Idumeans that John Hyrcanus defeated, adding that all the non-Jews met with the same fate at the hands of Hyrcanus; see Sefer Yosippon 29:8–12 (ed. D. Flusser; Jerusalem: The Bialik Institute, 1981), 1:116. 308 See K. Berthelot, “La notion de ‫ גר‬dans les textes de Qumrân,” Revue de Qumrân 74 [19/2] (1999): 171–216; F. García Martínez, “Invented Memory: The ‘Other’ in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Qumranica Minora II: Thematic Studies on the Dead Sea Scrolls (ed. E. J. C. Tigchelaar; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 187–218 (see p. 206); D. Hamidovic, “À la frontière de l’altérité, le statut de l’étranger-résident dans les milieux esséniens,” in L’étranger dans la Bible et ses lectures (ed. J. Riaud; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2007), 261–304. See also D. R. Schwartz, “Yannai and Pella, Josephus and Circumcision”, DSD 18/3 (2011): 339–359 (p. 354). 309 In reality these different groups would have been more intermixed than the sources suggest, as a result of mixed marriages.

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Judeans from the gerim who became integrated into Israel. The Hasmonean policy towards the Idumeans thus hardly seems to have been very innovative, except on one point: the dimension of coercion this process is said to have involved.310 If the Hasmoneans innovated, with regard to the Idumeans, this is mostly because they supposedly forced the Idumeans to take on a new status. (Conversely, in the Book of Joshua, the Gibeonites used ruse to impose their presence on the sons of Israel …) However, this innovation cannot be understood in light of the acquisition of citizenship in the Hellenistic world, which meant being granted a privilege rather than being forced to take on a new status.311 Finally, the reason why the biblical model of the ger (as opposed to the model of the Hellenistic politeia, in particular) is the most coherent framework we have for thinking of the integration of the Idumeans into the Judean state under the Hasmoneans, is that there was no such thing as a Judean citizenship, contrary to what Shaye Cohen suggests.312 There is a crucial distinction between a linguistic metaphor and the historical and institutional realities that lie behind it.313 The adoption of a word or lexicon does not necessarily reflect the adoption of the corresponding institutions. When the translator of Genesis translated the Hebrew phrase beney ‘ami (“sons of my people,” Gen 23:11) with the word politai, this was not to say that the Hivvites were organized into a polis. Interestingly, although the translators of the Septuagint use the word politēs in a few cases, on the whole they seem to have been reluctant to use Greek political vocabulary. The use of this vocabulary to describe Judean or Jewish institutions is more frequent under the pen of Jewish authors who do not translate Hebrew books, but rather write directly in Greek.314 When the author of the Letter of Aristeas describes the Jews who were settled in Egypt as the fellow citizens of the high priest Eleazar, he draws 310 Although Mattathias and his men forced uncircumcised children to be circumcised, according to 1 Macc 2:46, this does not constitute a precedent, since the context of these events suggests that these were Judean children whose parents had failed to obey the commandment to circumcise new-borns (pace Shatzman, “Sur la conversion des Iduméens,” 231). See also Weitzman, “Forced Circumcision”. 311 It seems that the practise of forcing your defeated enemies to take up your citizenship was only practised by the Romans, during the first period of Roman expansion, in the context of the annexation of new territories and populations to the city of Rome; see M. Humbert, “Municipium” et “civitas sine suffragio”: l’organisation de la conquête jusqu’à la guerre sociale (Rome: Ecole Française de Rome, 1978); idem, “Le status civitatis. Identité et identification du civis Romanus,” in Homo, caput, persona: La costruzione giuridica dell’identità nell’esperienza romana (ed. Alessandro Corbino et al.; Pavia: IUSS Press, 2010), 139–173 (esp. 140–141). 312 Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 118: “… they became citizens in a state dominated by the Judaeans, they became Judaeans themselves in a political sense …”. 313 Although he takes a different approach, Benedikt Eckhardt also expresses his reservations on this issue in Ethnos und Herrschaft, 338–339. 314 It is worth observing that the translator of 1 Maccabees takes care to avoid using the words politēs, politeia, etc. (unlike the author of 2 Maccabees, who uses this lexicon, as did a number of other diasporic Jewish authors steeped into the realities of Greek civic life).

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a picture of Jerusalem as a polis and presents the Jews of Egypt as coming from – and thus as the fellow citizens of the population of – Jerusalem, as though that city was comparable to Athens, for example.315 However, this is a metaphor or an analogy, since Jerusalem was not a Greek city with civic institutions in the second century B.C.E.316 This could have been the case if Jason and his supporters had managed to keep their hold on power: however, history took a different course.317 The Hasmoneans rejected the Greek civic model and Jerusalem did not become a polis. Indeed, from an institutional point of view, Judea was effectively a monarchy under the Hasmoneans: although this only became official from Aristobulus I, this was already largely the case under Simon and Hyrcanus I. As we have seen in Part I, the author of 1 Maccabees, who most probably wrote under the high priesthood of Hyrcanus I, availed himself of all the biblical models he could find in order to confer royal legitimacy onto the Hasmoneans. Under John Hyrcanus, the Hasmonean state was de facto if not de iure a monarchy, and the peoples the Judeans conquered were thus first and foremost subjects, as in the Hellenistic kingdoms. In the Seleucid kingdom there was in fact no such thing as a Seleucid citizenship: there were only local forms of citizenship in poleis, and the citizens of these poleis had the status of subjects, relative to the king. In the Hasmonean kingdom, there were no poleis, there were only subjects. However, some of the Judeans were compatriots with the same history and ancestors, while others had a lower status – not necessarily in legal terms, but at least in social terms – because their ancestors were not Israelites. It is possible that the biblical traditions on the kinship ties between the Edomites (i. e. the descendants of Esau) and the Israelites had a role to play in the decision to integrate the Idumeans into Judean society.318 Writing at the end of the first century B.C.E. on Judas’ wars against the neighbouring peoples of Judea (according to 1 Macc 5), Josephus claims that the Idumeans are the descendants of Esau (Ant. 12.328). However, it is difficult to tell whether these traditions influenced the policy of John Hyrcanus, since this is not mentioned in any of the available sources. There is no explicit evidence that the Hasmoneans relied on these biblical traditions in order to make it easier for the Judean population to accept the integration of the Idumeans, even if this is theoretically possible. 315 See Letter of Aristeas 3, 36, 44, 126. 316 Similarly, Bradley Ritter writes, in the context of Philo and his use of the term politeia: “So it is not surprising to find that he used what had become a well-established metaphor for Judaism. Judaism was itself a politeia, a constitution established by God, centered in the Temple in Jerusalem, to which all Judeans belonged” (Judeans in the Greek Cities of the Roman Empire: Rights, Citizenship and Civil Discord [Leiden: Brill, 2015], 79). 317 See 1 Macc 1:13–15; 2 Macc 4:7–15. 318 See in particular Gen 36:9. On the role that (real or fictional) ethnic kinship ties may have played in the “conversions” carried by the Hasmoneans, see Morton Smith, “The Gentiles in Judaism,” 204–205. See also Thiessen, Contesting Conversion, 88–89.

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Contrary to Benedikt Eckhardt, I do not believe that the sources show that genealogical principles or the notion of lineage became relative. According to Eckhardt, the fact that the Hasmoneans were descended neither from the Oniads nor from David, made it difficult for them to justify their claims to both the high priesthood and the kingship, which in turn led them – at least from John Hyrcanus onwards – to redefine the criteria that had to be met in order to belong to the Judean ethnos, putting merit and noble deeds before lineage or genealogical origins. In particular, Eckhardt argues that, since the Judeans could stop being Judeans if they became “decircumcised” (i. e. if they had their foreskin restored), then conversely, non-Judeans could become Judeans if they practised the circumcision and adopted the Judeans laws and customs more generally.319 However, ­Benedikt Eckhardt’s demonstration is weakened by the fact that there is no suggestion anywhere in 1 Maccabees that the Judeans who had their foreskin restored stopped being Judeans. Instead, they are described as impious men, having “abandoned the holy covenant” (1 Macc 1:15). A Judean who had betrayed the covenant and his compatriots did not become a gentile, but remained a Judean, albeit a bad Judean. As for the Idumeans, even if we admit that some of them may have scrupulously observed all of the laws of the Torah, it is clear in later sources – and in particular in the works of Josephus – that they nevertheless remained distinct from those who were Israelites by birth. In other words, the importance of lineage does not seem to have been played down in Judean society as Eckhardt suggests. It also seems difficult to reconcile the view that the Hasmoneans broke with notions of lineage with the fact that once they made it to the top, this family of priests quickly moved to establish themselves as a dynasty, in which the transmission of power was based on a genealogical principle. In this respect, the Hasmoneans showed themselves to be influenced by both biblical models and Hellenistic models of kingship, where lineage also played a major role.

3.2 The Itureans I showed in § 2.2 that the Hasmoneans did not start from scratch in Galilee: even if it does seem likely that they did annex and “Judaize” it, there already were Judean settlements in Galilee – or at least in southern Galilee – before the Maccabean revolt. It seems probable that the Judean conquest of Galilee, which had begun under John Hyrcanus, was continued under Aristobulus I, who managed to reach

319 Eckhardt, Ethnos und Herrschaft, chap. 4 (esp. 321–322). See also “An Idumean,” 111– 112.

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the Golan, or a neighbouring area, where he probably fought the Itureans before forging an alliance with them.320 In order to understand these events in more detail, we must turn to a passage from Antiquities (which has no parallel in War): 318 … in his reign of one year, with the title of Philhellene, he conferred many benefits on his country, for he made war on the Ituraeans and acquired a good part of their territory for Judea and compelled the inhabitants, if they wished to remain in their country, to be circumcised and to live in accordance with the laws of the Judeans. 319 He had a kindly nature, and was wholly given to modesty, as Strabo also testifies on the authority of Timagenes, writing as follows: “This man was a kindly person and very serviceable to the Jews, for he acquired additional territory for them, and made a portion of the Ituraean nation their friends, having joined [them] by the bond of circumcision.” (Ant. 13:318–319; trans. Marcus, LCL, 387, with slight modifications)321

Let us begin with § 319, where Josephus supposedly quotes his source: we can distinguish between the question of the (unspecified) territory that Aristobulus “acquired” (verb προσκτάομαι) for Judea, whether this was by peaceful or by violent means, and the question of the bond that was forged between the Judeans and a part of the Iturean people (τὸ μέρος τοῦ τῶν Ἰτουραίων ἔθνους). On a first reading, this bond seems to have been an alliance that both sides entered into voluntarily, based on their shared practise of circumcision.322 The territory under discussion may have belonged to the same Itureans who entered into an alliance with 320 For an account of the political and military alliance that existed between the Hasmoneans and Itureans from Jonathan onwards, see also Dar, Settlements and Cult Sites on Mount Hermon, Israel, 19–22. 321 Ant. 13.318: ταῦτ᾿ εἰπὼν ἐπαποθνήσκει τοῖς λόγοις βασιλεύσας ἐνιαυτόν, χρηματίσας μὲν Φιλέλλην, πολλὰ δ᾿ εὐεργετήσας τὴν πατρίδα, πολεμήσας Ἰτουραίους καὶ πολλὴν αὐτῶν τῆς χώρας τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ προσκτησάμενος ἀναγκάσας τε τοὺς ἐνοικοῦντας, εἰ βούλονται μένειν ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ, περιτέμνεσθαι καὶ κατὰ τοὺς Ἰουδαίων νόμους ζῆν. 319 φύσει δ᾿ ἐπιεικεῖ κέχρητο καὶ σφόδρα ἦν αἰδοῦς ἥττων, ὡς μαρτυρεῖ τούτῳ καὶ Στράβων ἐκ τοῦ Τιμαγένους ὀνόματος λέγων οὕτως· ἐπιεικής τε ἐγένετο οὗτος ὁ ἀνὴρ καὶ πολλὰ τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις χρήσιμος· χώραν τε γὰρ αὐτοῖς προσεκτήσατο καὶ τὸ μέρος τοῦ τῶν Ἰτουραίων ἔθνους ᾠκειώσατο δεσμῷ συνάψας τῇ τῶν αἰδοίων περιτομῇ. On Timagenes, see Stern, GLAJJ, 1:225. 322 Cf. Kasher, Jews, Idumaeans and Ancient Arabs, 83 and note 114; Smith, “The Gentiles in Judaism,” 205; Schwartz, “Israel and the Nations Roundabout,” 19; Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 112–113, and also 117, where he writes: “Aristobulus, king of the Judaeans, established friendship or an alliance with part of the nation of the Ituraeans. The two peoples were joined together on the basis of circumcision, a practice current among the Ituraeans for centuries but now endowed with new meaning.” Zvi Uri Ma‘oz argues that the Itureans practised circumcision, but that Aristobulus forced them to adopt the Judean custom of circumcising new-borns on the eighth day of their lives, which they agreed to do because it was in their interest to do as their conquerors wished (Itur in Galilee, 9). He also envisages the possibility that John Hyrcanus may have sent emissaries to Iturea, in order to convert the Itureans to Judaism, laying the ground for Aristobulus’ initiative (ibid., 10); or indeed the possibility that Aristobulus may have paid them to surrender (ibid., 76).

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the Judeans. However, the text can also invite a different reading: it can also be seen to mean, for example, that Aristobulus extended the reach of the Judean territory into new areas (probably in Galilee), and that he consequently forged a separate alliance with the Itureans who were settled in the territories adjoining these new areas. It is unclear what the union between the Itureans and the Judeans entailed: however, if we translate the verb οἰκειόω as “to befriend,” “to establish a friendship with,” this does not imply that these Itureans adopted the cult of YHWH, or even that some of the Itureans rallied the Hasmonean state and adopted the Judean laws (Strabo says nothing on this subject). It seems more likely that this was merely a political and military alliance.323 Indeed, the archaeological evidence also seems to privilege this last hypothesis.324 In any case, Josephus himself puts a different interpretation forward, either because he had access to another source (although he does not mention it, if this is the case), or – and this seems more likely – because he had a different reading of these events. He writes that Aristobulus waged war (πολεμήσας) on the Itureans, and that the territory that the Judeans acquired had belonged to the Itureans, who entered into an alliance with Judea and its leader under constraint. According to Josephus, they were forced to adopt circumcision, probably along with other Judean laws. However, there is no mention of any such coercion in Timagenes/ Strabo. Much has been said about the fact that Josephus contradicts his source. For my part, I think that Josephus interpreted the account that Timagenes/Strabo make of these events in the light of what he knew of the Idumeans. This is because the discrepancies between §§ 318 and 319 of Antiquities reflect all the motifs found in the narrative of the Judaization of the Idumeans: 1) war; 2) the fact that the population had to choose between emigrating or staying and submitting to the conditions laid out by their conqueror; 3) coercion; 4) the enforcement of circumcision, and of Judean laws more generally. Moreover, Josephus does not seem to have had access to any other source on this episode. Indeed, he makes no reference to these events in War, and provides us with no more information on the wars waged by Aristobulus in either War or Antiquities. This leads me to the conclusion that the discrepancies between Josephus’ account of these events, and that of Timagenes/ Strabo reflect the fact that Josephus’ reading of the events in Iturea was influenced

323 Cf. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness, 117. 324 See § 2.2 (supra) on the conquests of Aristobulus. According to Uzi Leibner, there were never any Itureans in Galilee and also no conversions of Itureans, since the Golan and the area around Mount Hermon were not part of the Hasmonean territory; he also does not believe that the Hasmoneans annexed the Iturean territory, and in fact completely rejects Josephus’ account (Settlement and History in Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Galilee, 321).

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by the integration of the Idumeans into Judea. Indeed, it seems possible that Josephus was in good faith when he interpreted this episode through an Idumean lens.325 In any case, Josephus never mentions the presence of Itureans within Judean society under the reign of Alexander Jannaeus. Moreover, he writes that Salome Alexandra attempted to thwart the ambitions of the Iturean Ptolemy, the son of Mennaeus (Ant. 13:418).326 Conversely, he suggests that later on, the descendants of Aristobulus II – in particular Mattathias Antigonus – received the unwavering support of Iturean princes: both Ptolemy and his son Lysanias forged alliances with the Parthians against Hyrcanus II, Herod and the Romans. The Iturean support to Aristobulus II and his descendants also took the form of a number of matrimonial alliances.327 Later on there were also Itureans at the court of Herod: indeed, as Julien Aliquot reminds us, Herod “could rely on an Iturean called Sohaimus, to the point that he entrusted him with the governance of a district in his kingdom circa 30 B.C.E. (Ant. 15:185 and 204–229).”328 However, the Itureans are never described as “Judeans” and there is nothing to indicate that the support that the Iturean dynasty lent to the descendants of Aristobulus II was based on their cultual or cultural affinities. Indeed, the Iturean princes stood by their own traditions, and there is no mention anywhere of the Itureans having converted to Judaism.329 Either a group of Itureans became Judaized and merged within the Judean society, while the mass of the Iturean ethnos continued to follow their own political destiny; or there were no Judaized Itureans at all, only an alliance between the Judeans and the Itureans based on the convergence 325 According to Shaye Cohen, Josephus deliberately presented these events in this light because he did not wish to suggest that the Hasmoneans had forged alliances with the surrounding populations (The Beginnings of Jewishness, 117–118). However, it is unclear why Josephus would have wished to avoid this suggestion. 326 In 63 B.C.E., Pompey confirmed the sovereignty of Ptolemy, son of Mennaeus (supposedly after a payment of one thousand talents) and in 63/2 Ptolemy had coins minted in his name, with the title of tetrarch and high priest. This dynast was a client of Rome, as Herod after him. 327 See Aliquot, “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban,” 259: “… l’hostilité entre les Ituréens et les Hasmonéens, continue depuis le milieu du IIe siècle a.C., se transforme après la marche de Pompée en une alliance matrimoniale de type exogamique, à laquelle Ptolémaios de Chalcis et son fils Lysanias restent fidèles jusqu’à la mort du dernier représentant de la dynastie hasmonéenne, Antigone-Mattathias, en 37 a.C. … en 49 a.C. Ptolémaios fils de Mennaios aurait recueilli tous les enfants d’Aristobule II, à l’exception de son fils Alexandre, décapité à Antioche sur l’ordre de Pompée [J.W. I, 185–186 ; Ant. XIV, 125–126]. Le fils du Mennaïde, Philippiôn, épouse Alexandra, une fille d’Aristobule II ; puis Ptolémaios épouse lui-même Alexandra après avoir assassiné Philippiôn”. 328 Original French text: “… a pu compter sur un Ituréen du nom de Sohaimos, au point de lui confier le gouvernement d’un district de son royaume vers 30 a.C. [Ant. XV, 185 et 204– 229]” (“Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban,” 216). 329 As Julien Aliquot observes, “Les liens entre les princes ituréens et le sacerdoce posent en outre la question du caractère sacral de ces souverains et celui du rôle effectif qu’ils jouent dans le culte, mais l’information est déficiente” (ibid., 223).

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of their objectives, which did not prevent rivalries and conflicts from arising later on, nor the forging of new matrimonial and political alliances. The relationship between the Itureans and the Judeans was characterized by both proximity and rivalry: however, the Itureans do not seem to have become integrated into Judean society, unlike the Idumeans.330

3.3 The questions raised by the case of Pella In Ant. 13.395–397, Josephus lists the possessions of Judea at the end of the reign of Alexander Jannaeus. One of the places conquered by Jannaeus that he mentions is the Transjordanian city of Pella, claiming that Jannaeus “destroyed” it “because the inhabitants did not commit to adopt the ancestral customs of the Judeans (ταύτην κατέσκαψεν οὐχ ὑποσχομένων τῶν ἐνοικούντων ἐς πάτρια τῶν Ἰουδαίων ἔθη μεταβαλεῖσθαι).”331 He also states that there were “other important cities in Syria which had been subdued (ἄλλας τε πόλεις πρωτευούσας τῆς Συρίας αἳ ἦσαν κατεστραμμέναι)” (§ 397). However, Pella is the only one of all of these cities to be said to have been destroyed because its population refused to adopt the customs of Judea. A priori, it seems that we should infer from this that all the other cities that Jannaeus conquered did adopt Judean customs, renouncing their own ancestral cults and agreeing to pay taxes to the Jerusalem temple, practice circumcision, etc.332 However, it seems very unlikely that the populations of the cities conquered by Jannaeus all decided to adopt the Judean laws, 333 and few historians have defended this hypothesis.334 Although it was probably forbidden 330 We could take Morton Smith’s lead in “The Gentiles” (p. 208), and ask ourselves whether the biblical account of the kinship between the Judeans and the Itureans played a role in this relationship, and whether the Itureans’ identification with Arabs may have led the Judeans to perceive them as descendants of Ismael. However, the sources do not suggest that there existed an original syngeneia between the Judeans and the Itureans; in reality, the connection between the Itureans and Yetur is not well-established. 331 Some manuscripts (like P) omit the οὐχ. See below. 332 Although circumcision is not explicitly mentioned in the case of Pella (§ 397), it would nevertheless have been included among these Judean customs. 333 Whereas the so-called “conversion” of the Idumeans and the Itureans has been understood by scholars as a political and religious alliance between the Judeans and peoples who had a Semitic cultural and linguistic background and who already practised circumcision, it would be difficult to transpose this model onto Greco-Syrian cities. 334 Daniel Schwartz (“Yannai and Pella, Josephus and Circumcision,” 343, n.10) mentions the case of Heinrich Grätz (Geschichte der Judäer von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die Gegenwart, 3/1, 132). More recently, this has also been the position of Edward Dabrowa, who writes: “It is also probable that the same kind of steps were taken following Alexander Jannaeus’ conquests. While sources are silent about it, this may be due to the practice of forceful conversions to Judaism having become the norm on territories gained by the Hasmoneans ever since John Hyrcanus, and Josephus not thinking them worth mentioning, or because Alexander Jannaeus’

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to practice idolatrous cults in public in Jannaeus’ kingdom, it is difficult to imagine that the king imposed Judean practices (or “customs,” according to Josephus or his source) to all these Greco-Syrian cities. Moreover, we know that some of the cities listed by Josephus – such as Gaza and Scythopolis, for example – were partially destroyed, and there is nothing to suggest that they adopted the Judean lifestyle. One might think, as Morton Smith does, that Jannaeus systematically destroyed the conquered cities, and reduced their inhabitants into slavery.335 However, this theory is contradicted by what Josephus has to say about the fate of these cities under Pompey and Gabinius, quite apart from the fact that it does not make any economic sense: a conquered city was a source of wealth, because it had to pay a tribute. Instead, it seems, according to Josephus, that Pella was an isolated case, for reasons that remain unclear. It is of course possible to sweep the issue under the carpet and to assume that Josephus – or his source, whatever it may be – made an error: however, this does not solve the issue and leaves open the question of the historical reality of the events in Pella. Let us try to get to the bottom of the problem. This reference to an isolated case of destruction by Jannaeus is all the more problematic that it contradicts Josephus’ account of the fate of Pella in other parts of his work. Although in the Judean War Josephus mentions that Jannaeus captured Pella, he does not say what became of the city: it seems that Alexander proceeded to march on Gerasa, “hankering once more after the treasures of Theodorus” (J.W. 1.104). Later, when Pompey goes after Aristobulus II, Josephus writes that “Passing Pella and Scytho­ polis, he reached Coreae [which is located around 30 km north of Jericho], at which point a traveller ascending through the interior enters the territory of Judaea” (J.W. 1.134; trans. Thackeray, LCL, 63). It would be odd to mention these cities if these had been razed to the ground and abandoned. Instead, this passage seems to imply that they were still inhabited: this of course does not mean that they were not partially destroyed at the hands of John Hyrcanus (in the case of Scythopolis) and Jannaeus (in the case of Pella), but simply that they had at least partly recovered from theses attacks. More significantly still, Pella is mentioned as one of the cities that Pompey “liberated” in 63 B.C.E. (J.W. 1.156). Josephus writes that the Judeans had not had the time to raze these cities to the ground, contradicting his account in Ant. 13.397. What he writes in Ant. 14.49 echoes J.W. 1.134, neither diverging from it nor adding anything new. Finally, according to Ant. 14.75 (in enforced Judaization did not meet with any spectacular resistance. The latter explanation seems to be confirmed by Josephus’ mention of the capture of Pella by the Judean king” (“The Hasmoneans and the Religious Homogeneity of their State,” 9). Steven Weitzman cautiously advances this hypothesis in “Forced Circumcision and the Shifting Role of Gentiles in Hasmonean Ideo­ logy”. Seth Schwartz is also cautious on this subject: “… it is not impossible that he [Jannaeus] judaized some of the cities and simply reduced others to subjection and tribute; Josephus is remarkably vague” (Imperialism and Jewish Society, 38). 335  See “The Gentiles,” 198–199.

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parallel with J.W. 1.156), Pella is listed as one of the cities that Pompey returned to their original population, implying that it was not destroyed, or that its destruction was only partial. What does the archaeological evidence suggest? In “Pella,” an article published in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, Robert Houston Smith does not provide any evidence for the destruction of Pella under Jannaeus apart from Josephus’ account. He alludes to the fact that a stratum that was initially interpreted in relation with the Jewish insurrection of 66, was eventually understood to be “a late Hellenistic stratum that ended with destruction carried out by soldiers of Alexander Jannaeus in 83–82 BCE”. However, he does not mention what were the scale or the material traces of this destruction.336 In their monograph on Pella in Jordan, A. W. McNicoll et al. are just as evasive,337 and their work leads us to a similar conclusion: i. e. the evidence for the destruction of the city in 83 ou 82 B.C.E. is not so much based on the archaeological data, which is not very explicit, so much as on Josephus.338 Daniel Schwartz reminds us, after Israel Shatzman, that in the ancient sources, references to the destruction of a city should not necessarily be taken literally.339 Moreover, a comparison with the case of Samaria, for example, shows that Josephus’ account of the destruction of specific cities is not always reliable. Finally, Josephus contradicts himself in his own work on the subject of the destruction of Pella. However, we can resolve this contradiction if we suppose that the city was only partially destroyed. Indeed, it may be that what he really wished to convey was merely that the Judeans used force to impose their domination on the city. In that case, the principal issue raised by the text is how to reconcile this use of force with the refusal of the conquered population to adopt the customs of Judea. According to Daniel Schwartz, Josephus’ parenthesis on the destruction of Pella in Ant. 13.397 is a later addition. Schwartz argues that Josephus owed this comment to a source that he identifies as Strabo, because the use of the word ethē (instead of nomoi or nomima in the passages that Josephus devotes to the Idumeans and Itureans) exhibits the perspective of an outsider, i. e. a non-Judean observer.340 In other words, he suggests that Josephus (or one of his assistants) integrated this 336 See R. Houston Smith, “Pella,” in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (ed. E. Stern et al.; Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society, 1993), 3:1174– 1180 (the quotation is on p. 1175; and see esp. p. 1179). 337 Pella in Jordan. 2: The Second Interim Report of the Joint University of Sydney and College of Wooster Excavations at Pella 1982–1985 (ed. A. W. McNicoll et al.; Sydney: Meditarch, 1992), 2:103–144 (esp. 114). 338 Daniel Schwartz reaches the same conclusion after a review of several other works; see “Yannai and Pella,” 345, n.19. 339 Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans,” 62–63; Schwartz, “Yannai and Pella,” 346. In Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 157, Kasher supposes that Jannaeus did not destroy the city entirely, but only its walls and places of worship, as well perhaps as its gymnasium, theatre, etc. 340 Schwartz, “Yannai and Pella,” 348–351.

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source by mistake, since it introduces a contradiction within the work. It is worth observing, however, that Strabo never suggests that the Hasmonean policy towards the peoples settled around Judea was coercive. Although this does not exclude the possibility that he had access to different information in the case of Pella, such a policy would be at odds with his overall account of the way in which the Judeans integrated non-Judeans into Judea. In Ant. 13.397, the verb ὑπισχνέομαι literally means “to promise, to assure,” which means that this passage should be translated as “because the inhabitants did not commit (or: promise) to adopt the ancestral customs of the Judeans”. This reference to a promise is rather odd, with its implicit suggestion that the Judeans attempted to obtain some form of assurance from the population of Pella. If we take this sentence literally, it certainly seems to imply that Jannaeus forced the cities that he captured to adopt the customs of Judea, which, as we have already shown, is very unlikely. Interestingly, some manuscripts have a different text, omitting the negative particle οὐχ: “because the inhabitants had promised to adopt …”341 Although it may be that we owe this reading to a scribe who merely wished to increase the coherence of Josephus’ narrative, it is nevertheless tempting to follow this version of the text, found in manuscript P – which Benedictus Niese held in high esteem –, and get rid of the οὐχ, as Niese himself does in his own edition of Josephus. This would mean that when Jannaeus lay siege to Pella, its population promised to adopt the customs of Judea, probably in exchange for allowing their city to stand, as well, perhaps, as various fiscal advantages342 – it is likely that the cities and ethnic groups that forged an alliance with the Judeans and adopted their laws did not have to pay as high a tribute as the cities that they simply defeated. In other words, the population of Pella may have reneged on their promise, angering Jannaeus and leading him to destroy their city.343 As we have already seen, Josephus often mentions that there was a dimension of revenge in Jannaeus’ campaigns of destruction.

341 See Niese, Flavii Iosephi Opera, 3.225; Marcus, LCL, 426. 342 Or perhaps in order to avoid seeing part of the population reduced into slavery? Aryeh Kasher observes that the word that Josephus uses in Ant. is ἐνοικούντοι (as opposed to πολῖται). He deduces from this that it was not the (Hellenized) citizens of the city who made this promise, so much as its non-citizens, who were culturally closer to the Judeans (see Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 157–158). This could suggest a more complex scenario, in which the promise to adopt the customs of Judea was made by the non-citizens of Pella, but disregarded by the magistrates and leaders of the civic body, and these divisions led to the fall of the city. According to John Tidmarsh, it is unclear how much Pella had become Hellenized in the second and early part of the first centuries B.C.E.; however, it seems that Greek culture only had a superficial impact on the city (see “How Hellenised was Pella in Jordan in the Hellenistic period?,” in Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan. VIII [Amman: Department of antiquities, 2004], 459–468). 343 Although this is merely a shot in the dark, one wonders whether this happened when they learnt that the full adoption of the Judean “customs” implied circumcision?

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It seems to me that the version of the text which reads “because the inhabitants had promised to adopt the ancestral customs of the Judeans” is more coherent in every respect, even if it does mean that we have to piece back together the implicit but missing episode of the failure of the population of Pella to honour its promise – indeed, this challenge may be the reason why οὐχ was added to the text at a very early stage in the history of its transmission. If we adopt this reading, then the use of the word ethē could be explained by the fact that what we are hearing is an indirect discourse echoing an exchange with the population of Pella. I am convinced by Daniel Schwartz’s suggestion that Josephus (or one of his assistants) inserted a comment on Pella which came from another source, without realizing that this introduced an internal contradiction into his work. Whether that author was Strabo or someone else, it seems likely that he made a reference to the promise of the population of Pella to adopt the ancestral customs of the Judeans. As such, the mention of the destruction of Pella implies that they did not keep their word, or even that this promise was only a ploy: hence Jannaeus’ decision to launch reprisals against Pella, a city he probably only partially destroyed. If we do not follow this reading, we have to suppose that Jannaeus exhibited an irrational degree of ferocity in his dealings with the people of Pella, despite the fact that such brutality is not accredited in the rest of Josephus’ account of his reign: according to Josephus, although Jannaeus could indeed be ruthless when he exacted revenge on his enemies, there was usually a reason for his cruelty. Although it is not possible to know for certain what happened to Pella and what circumstances led to this outcome, the interpretation that I have just suggested corroborates the notion that the lines that Josephus devotes to the destruction of this particular city in Antiquities do not imply that the other places that Jannaeus conquered were forced to adopt the laws and customs of the Judeans. We do not know what policy Jannaeus adopted towards these cities. We can merely suppose that they lost any form of political autonomy (since this was later restored to them by Gabinius). It seems likely that it was forbidden to practise polytheistic cults in public. Although it may be tempting to infer from this that the populations of these conquered regions were forced to adopt the Judean laws as a whole, the silence of the sources on this matter does not allow us to reach this conclusion,344 especially since it seems unlikely that Jannaeus wished to turn these unreliable “Syri-

344 For the opposite view, according to which the Judaization of conquered people became the norm, and was as such no longer worth mentioning, see E. Dabrowa, “The Hasmoneans and the Religious Homogeneity of their State”. Thus, Dabrowa writes that “While sources are silent about it, this may be due to the practice of forceful conversions to Judaism having become the norm on territories gained by the Hasmoneans ever since John Hyrcanus, and Josephus not thinking them worth mentioning, or because Alexander Jannaeus’ enforced Judaization did not meet with any spectacular resistance. The latter explanation seems to be confirmed by Josephus’ mention of the capture of Pella by the Judean king” (p. 9).

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ans”345 into Judeans.346 Thus, in War, Josephus writes (speaking about Jannaeus): “Syrians he did not admit to the force [as mercenaries] on account of their innate hatred of his nation” (J.W. 1.88; trans. Thackeray, LCL, 45).347

3.4 Summary Overall, the case of the Idumeans is the best attested example of the political and religious integration of a non-Judean community into Judean society. Concerning the Itureans, Josephus seems to have reinterpreted his source in light of the Idumean precedent, since Timagenes and Strabo do not mention that the Judean laws were forcibly imposed on the Itureans, but suggest, instead, that the Judeans and part of the Itureans forged an alliance based on the shared practise of circumcision. As for the Samaritans, most of whom already worshipped YHWH, they had to pay allegiance to the temple of Jerusalem. Like the Idumeans, they were forced to become politically and religiously integrated into Judea: however, they were already close to the Judeans, since they already shared the traditions of the Pentateuch; moreover, the archaeological evidence we have on the Samaritans before the Hasmonean period shows that they also had the same material culture as the Judeans.348 The case of Galilee is more complex: although the literary sources do not mention the Judaization of its non-Judean population, the archaeological evidence shows that this process did in fact take place – indeed, history shows that the Judaization of the Galilean population became deep-rooted. However, the identity of the non-Judean groups concerned by this process is still unclear. Finally, it is extremely unlikely that the population of the coastal cities and Transjordan was given the possibility of becoming politically and religiously integrated into Judea: instead, they were probably merely subjugated to Judea. Although the active political and religious integration of non-Judean communities into Judea was a Hasmonean innovation, it only affected groups settled on the periphery of Judea, in Idumea, Samaria and Galilee. Finally, there is little information available on the situation in Perea, but this area does seem to have already had a Judean population before the Hasmonean period. The integration of non-Judeans took a range of different forms. The Idumeans kept a separate ethnic identity, but were labelled “Judeans” because of their alliance with the Judeans and integration into Judea – as such, their status was closer to that 345 In the geographical sense of the term. 346 There is thus no reason to suppose either that he wished to force them to be circumcised, or, conversely, that Jannaeus’ affinities with the Sadduceans led him to decide not to impose circumcision on them, as Daniel Schwartz argues. In fact, this was probably not an issue at all, since the populations of the areas conquered by Jannaeus never became Judeans. 347 On Jannaeus’ mercenaries, see § 4 (infra). 348 See Berlin, “Manifest Identity,” 166.

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of the biblical gerim than to that of converts later on in the rabbinic tradition. This was also the case for the Samaritans, who remained distinct from the Judeans (as we can see in the narrative of the gospels, for example) and perhaps also for the Galileans, who are sometimes described as an ethnos in their own right by Josephus (J.W. 2.503, 510, 570; 3.34 and esp. 41–43). It is worth noting that, according to Josephus, Galilee, Samaria and Judea were three distinct areas – indeed, the portrait he draws of the Galileans, in this context, is especially interesting (J.W. 3.35–58). Certainly, neither the populations that were integrated into the Hasmonean state, nor those that were merely subjugated to it (for example in the coastal cities) were considered to be “Canaanites” who had to be exterminated or driven away from the promised land. The Hasmonean took a far more pragmatic stance, and their policies varied depending on the circumstances and the communities involved. Far from following an identical, well-defined and ideologically-motivated policy, the different members of the dynasty adjusted and sometimes even contradicted the policies of their predecessors.349 The case of the Idumeans, in particular, sheds light on the internal contradictions of the Hasmonean state, which started as an ethnic state in which the high priest or ethnarch was supposed to involve the people in the exercise of power (maybe via the h. ever ha-Yehudim), only to become a de facto Hellenistic monarchy which established its domination over various peoples. It seems that John Hyrcanus first sought to preserve the homogeneity of the Judean society by forcing the communities which were allowed to become integrated into Judea to adopt the Judean laws, including circumcision. However, the Hasmoneans did not implement this process of “naturalization” past a certain point, probably in part because of their priestly and “realist” perspective.350 As a result, the Idumeans (and probably also the Samaritans and Galileans) largely retained a separate ethnic identity, and were given an intermediary status, somewhere between that of subjects and compatriots.351

349 For example, the hiring of mercenaries was a way to adjust to new circumstances. See infra, § 4. 350 I use the term “realist” by opposition to “nominalist.” See the next footnote. 351 On the “realist” and “nominalist” visions of the world (independently of the Hasmoneans), see D. R. Schwartz, “Law and Truth: On Qumran-Sadducean and Rabbinic Views of Law,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls. Forty Years of Research (D. Dimant and U. Rappaport, ed.; Leiden: Brill; Jerusalem: Magnes Press and Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 1992), 229–240. See also J. L. Rubenstein, “Nominalism and Realism in Qumranic and Rabbinic Law: A Reassessment,” DSD 6/2 (1999): 157–183. Rubenstein develops further and nuances Schwartz’s analysis, showing that there were realist and nominalist tendencies in both cases, even if nominalism did become more important in late rabbinic writings. See also D. R. Schwartz, “On Two Aspects of a Priestly View of Descent at Qumran,” in Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls (ed. L. H. Schiffman; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990), 157–179.

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3.5 The presentation of the imposition of Judean laws on the conquered territories as a Seleucid idea in 1 Maccabees 10 In order to bring this analysis of the accounts of the Hasmonean Judaization of non-Judean peoples to a close, we have to focus on a passage of 1 Maccabees and on the parallel passage in Josephus’ Antiquities, because they raise questions about the way the author of 1 Maccabees may have wanted to suggest that the notion that non-Judeans may be forced to observe the Judean laws originally came from the Seleucids. Let us begin by noting that, in the account that 1 Maccabees makes of the “persecution” of the Judeans under Antiochus IV, the Seleucid king’s punitive measures are described as an attempt to force the Judeans to adopt the Greek laws and, especially, cult. Several historiographical works have shown that this claim was a distortion of the policy of Antiochus IV, who was in fact unlikely to launch on a cultural and religious crusade: in other words, this was a Judean projection on, or rereading of, the events of the years 168–164 B.C.E. According to John Ma and ­Sylvie Honigman, the notion that the Judeans were persecuted should be taken with a grain of salt: this persecution in fact consisted of a series of punitive administrative measures, occasioned by what Antiochus saw as a revolt against his authority. According to John Ma, the Judean laws were suspended for political and administrative reasons, Judea having lost its autonomy and the Judeans their rights, which the Seleucid rulers only guaranteed in exchange for their loyalty. Comparable punitive measures, including the confiscation of a sanctuary, are attested in other contexts.352 However, the Judeans interpreted these measures as a persecution and an attempt to force them to adopt the Greek culture and cult. The First Book of Maccabees thus tends to paint the Seleucids as authoritarian 352 See J. Ma, “Re-Examining Hanukkah,” in The Marginalia Review of Books (http://themarginaliareview.com/archives/3083), consulted on 9 July 2013. For an example of a sanctuary that was confiscated following acts of resistance to the king, only to be returned eventually, see SEG 2.663, on an unidentified city in the kingdom of Pergamon, in favour of which the strategos Korragos interceded, asking the king to give it back its ancestral laws and constitution, “as well as the sacred estates and the funds destined for the cult” (lines 10–11); see M. Holleaux, Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques. II. Études sur la monarchie attalide (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1938), 73–125. See also L. Robert, “Théophane de Mytilène à Constantinople,” Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 113/1 (1969): 42–64: in an inscription carved on the monumental stand which once supported his effigy, Theophanes is praised for having “re-established the ancestral sanctuaries (or: cults) and the honor of the gods” thanks to his friendship with Pompey (see p. 53). More generally, several inscriptions show that when a city lost its autonomy, this had a major impact on its cults and festivals (Robert, “Théophane de Mytilène,” 62). See also Doran, “The Persecution of Judeans by Antiochus IV: the Significance of ‘Ancestral Laws’”; Ma, “Relire les Institutions des Séleucides de Bikerman,” 77–84; Honigman, “The Religious Persecution as a Narrative Elaboration of a Military Suppression”; idem, Tales of High Priests and Taxes, 387–397.

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kings who forced the Judeans to adopt the laws and cult of Greece, when what actually happened was very different on the whole, as the “Seleucid charter” of Antiochus III reminds us.353 In another passage, the author of 1 Maccabees does not describe the imposition of Greek laws on the Judean population, so much as that of Judean laws on groups that a priori were not – or at least not entirely – Judean, and attributes this decision to the Seleucid king Demetrius I. According to him, when the pretenders to the Seleucid throne were vying with each other to obtain the support of Jonathan, Demetrius I tried to outmanoeuvre Alexander Balas by offering to free the Judeans from the obligation of having to pay a certain number of taxes. In particular, he declared that he renounced with immediate effect to certain agricultural levies “from the Land of Judah and from the three districts annexed to it from Samaritis (Samaria) and Galilee (ἀπὸ γῆς Ιουδα καὶ ἀπὸ τῶν τριῶν νομῶν τῶν προστιθεμένων αὐτῇ ἀπὸ τῆς Σαμαρίτιδος καὶ Γαλιλαίας)” (1 Macc 10:30). The fact that the author adds “Galilee” after “Samaritis” (Samaria) is rather odd, especially when we consider that all the other passages related to the three nomes or districts annexed to Judea describe them as part of Samaria.354 For Arnaldo Momigliano, Félix-Marie Abel and Seth Schwartz, the author is referring to an administrative entity, the satrapy of Samaria-Galilee.355 However, Uriel Rappaport rejects this hypothesis, arguing that an error was made in the transmission of the text.356 According to him, the population of the Samaritan nomes annexed to Judea under Jonathan was already composed of Judeans for the most part, and had perhaps already been attached to Judea at the start of the Hellenistic era, before coming under the authority of Samaria.357 A few lines later in the same letter, Demetrius writes: “And let the three districts that were annexed to Judea from the country 353 See the following seminal articles by Elias Bickerman, “La Charte séleucide de Jérusalem,” REJ 100 (1935): 4–35; idem, “Une proclamation séleucide relative au temple de Jérusalem,” Syria 25/1 (1946): 67–86. 354 Except in 1 Macc 11:28, where they are described as already separate from Samaria, and as such implicitly already part of Judea; see also footnote 359 (infra). 355 See A. Momigliano, “Errori intorno alle toparchie della Palestina,” Rivista di Filologia e d’Istruzione Classica N.S. VIII/1 (1930): 71–74 (esp. 71); Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 187; idem, La géographie de la Palestine, 2:134; S. Schwartz, “The ‘Judaism’ of Samaria and Galilee in Josephus’s Version of the Letter of Demetrius I to Jonathan (Antiquities 13.48–57),” HTR 82 (1989): 377–391 (esp. 380). 356 Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 254–255. According to Seth Schwartz (“The ‘Judaism’ of Samaria and Galilee,” 380, n. 8), Albrecht Alt and Menahem Stern already held this view. 357 Ibid., 255. The small town of Modin, which is were the Hasmoneans supposedly came from, was located in the district of Lydda (Lod). Rappaport bases his argument on Against Apion 2.43, a passage in which Josephus states that Alexander the Great annexed Samaria as a whole to Judea. Although this passage seems unreliable, this belief could have played a part in the territorial claims of the Hasmoneans if it already existed during the Hasmonean period. As for the suggestion that there were Judean settlements in areas located on the borders of Judea, it is hardly

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of Samaria be annexed to Judea to the point of being considered to be under one rule and not to obey any other authority but that of the high priest (καὶ τοὺς τρεῖς νομοὺς τοὺς προστεθέντας τῇ Ιουδαίᾳ ἀπὸ τῆς χώρας Σαμαρείας προστεθήτω τῇ Ιουδαίᾳ πρὸς τὸ λογισθῆναι τοῦ γενέσθαι ὑφ᾿ ἕνα τοῦ μὴ ὑπακοῦσαι ἄλλης ἐξουσίας ἀλλ᾿ ἢ τοῦ ἀρχιερέως)” (1 Macc 10:38).358 As we have seen in Part I of this book, Jonathan, suspicious of the motivations of Demetrius, declined this offer. Later, after Demetrius II (who acceded to the throne in 145 B.C.E.) confirmed Jonathan in the high priesthood, Jonathan asked him “to make Judea tax-free, as well as the three districts and Samaritis” in exchange for three hundred talents (1 Macc 11:28).359 The translators and the commentators unanimously understand “as well as the three districts and Samaritis” (καὶ τὰς τρεῖς τοπαρχίας καὶ τὴν Σαμαρῖτιν), a phrase that is well-attested in the manuscripts, to mean “the three districts of Samaritis” – and indeed, this interpretation is confirmed in v. 34.360 The king, who was favourable to Jonathan’s request, wrote a letter confirming that the territory of the Judean ethnos encompassed “the boundaries of Judea as well as the three districts of Aphairema and Lydda and Ramathaim; these were added to Judea from Samaritis, with all the areas belonging to them, for all those who sacrifice in Jerusalem in exchange for the royal taxes that the king received from them formerly every year from the produce of the earth and from the tree fruits” (1 Macc 11:34; trans. Zervos, NETS, 495). As Abel rightly observes, this royal decision, which favoured the Judeans who were loyal to the temple of Jerusalem, and thus the Hasmonean dynasty, “was such that it could only increase the support for the Hasmonean dynasty,”361 even if it seems that it was in fact only under Simon that Judea was exempted from having to pay any form of tribute.362 Keeping Abel’s observation in mind, let us return briefly to the initial offer that Demetrius I made to Jonathan: “And let the three districts that were annexed to surprising (especially if we accept the hypothesis that the Judean population increased rapidly during the Hasmonean period), independently of the issues raised by the historicity of Against Apion. 358 Trans. Zervos, NETS, 493 (with slight modifications). 359 Jonathan’s request seems to imply that the three Samaritan nomes had already been annexed to Judea. However, this seems unlikely, since Jonathan had refused to accept the offer of Demetrius I (cf. Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 189; Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 255). It is possible that Jonathan let Demetrius II understand that his father’s offer should stand. Josephus understood the offer of Demetrius I to have become reality, probably because 1 Maccabees is ambiguous on this question. 360 See for example Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 208. 361 Original French text: “était de nature à intensifier le ralliement aux Asmonéens” (Abel, Les livres des Maccabées, 210). 362 Elias Bickerman considers that Jonathan offered to pay an annual tribute of 300 talents, in exchange for the cancellation of all other taxes (Institutions des Séleucides, 132). On the taxes levied by the Seleucid kings, see G. G. Aperghis, The Seleukid Royal Economy: The Finances and Financial Administration of the Seleukid Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 137–179 (although his quantitative approach and estimations have been criticized); Capdetrey, Le pouvoir séleucide, 395–428.

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Judea from the country of Samaria be annexed to Judea to the point of being considered to be under one rule and not to obey any other authority but that of the high priest” (1 Macc 10:38). The wording of this proposal implies that this would introduce a change: in other words, the inhabitants of the relevant S­ amaritan nomes were not under the authority of the Jerusalem high priest at the time when Demetrius I made this offer. His proposal to submit the entire population of the annexed territories (and not merely the Judeans who were already settled there) to the authority of the high priest, and thus also to the laws of Judea, in fact recalls the policy of John Hyrcanus and his successors in both Samaria and Idumea. Indeed, the fiscal implications of such a policy are clear in the text of 1 Maccabees. The fact that Josephus also understood these passages from 1 Maccabees to mean that the population of the nomes annexed to Judea would be submitted to the laws of Judea is clear when we examine the significant modifications that he introduced in Antiquities, and especially in Ant. 13.54. We can estimate, after Seth Schwartz, that he deliberately introduced these modifications, and that they were not the result of repeated errors on the part of Josephus and his assistants.363 Basing himself on the first part of the letter of Demetrius I in 1 Macc 10:29–30, Josephus writes in Antiquities: 49 For I shall release the greater part of you from the tribute and imposts which you have paid to my royal predecessors and to me, and for the present I remit to you the tribute which you have always given. In addition, I excuse you from payment of the salt-tax and crown-tax, which you have made to us, and in place of the third part of the grain and the half of the fruits of trees I remit to you my share thereof from this day on. 50 And as for the poll-tax which was to be paid to me by the inhabitants of Judaea and the three toparchies adjoining it, Samaria, Galilee and Peraea (καὶ ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς ἑκάστης ὃ ἔδει μοι δίδοσθαι τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ κατοικούντων καὶ τῶν τριῶν τοπαρχιῶν τῶν τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ προσκειμένων Σαμαρείας καὶ Γαλιλαίας καὶ Περαίας), I exempt you from this364 now and for all time. (Ant. 13.49–50; trans. Marcus, LCL, 249–251)

In these lines, Josephus mentions a capitation (or poll tax) which is not mentioned in 1 Maccabees, and replaces the term “nome,” which had Egyptian roots, with “toparchy,” which was part of the terminology used in the Seleucid administration. Above all, he transforms the three districts of Samaria-Galilee in three areas which included Samaria as a whole, all of Galilee, and Perea. As Seth Schwartz emphasizes, it is possible that Josephus was misled by the mention of “Samaritis and Galilee” in 1 Macc 10:30, but it is not excluded that he intentionally altered his 363 See Schwartz, “The ‘Judaism’ of Samaria and Galilee”. Timothy Luckritz Marquis follows him in “Re-presenting Galilean Identity: Josephus’s Use of 1 Maccabees 10:25–45 and the Term Ioudaios,” in Religion, Ethnicity, and Identity in Ancient Galilee: A Region in Transition (ed. J. Zangenberg et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 55–67. 364 The plural that is used in the Greek text (τούτους παραχωρῶ ὑμῖν, “I exempt you from those”) should probably have been a singular.

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source, in order to include in the planned extension of the Judean borders territories which, at Josephus’ time, seemed to be part of Judea by right.365 Antiquities 13.54 seems to corroborate this hypothesis, because it also significantly modifies 1 Macc 10:37–38: I also permit them to live in accordance with their ancestral laws and to observe them, and it is my will that those living in the three districts added to Judea shall be subject to these laws, and that it shall be the concern of the high priest that not a single Judean shall have any temple for worship other than that at Jerusalem. (Ant. 13.54; trans. Marcus, LCL, 253, with slight modifications)

The corresponding passage in 1 Maccabees merely specifies that the Judean soldiers in the Seleucid army would have Judean leaders and be allowed to live according to their own laws within the army, in the fortresses over which they kept watch, “as also the king has ordered in the land of Judah (καθὰ καὶ προσέταξεν ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐν γῇ Ιουδα)” (1 Macc 10:37). This is followed, in 1 Macc 10:38, with the prescription that the three nomes annexed to Judea should be placed under the sole authority of the high priest. Contrary to Seth Schwartz, who argues that Judea only had jurisdiction over itself, as opposed to the annexed nomes,366 I understand 1 Macc 10:37– 38 to mean that the Judean laws did not only apply in Judea and in the case of the Judean soldiers in the Seleucid army, but also in the annexed districts, since they were a part of Judea, so to speak. If we read Josephus in this perspective, it seems to me that he stays close to the version of events provided in 1 Maccabees. However, the words “… that not a single Judean shall have any temple for worship other than that at Jerusalem” (Ant. 13.54) raise the question of whether Josephus considered that the population of Samaria, Galilee and Perea were already (if only in part) “Judeans,” and, if so, in what way? If this was the case, why would it be necessary to submit them to the authority of the high priest of Jerusalem? This tends to suggest that these “Judeans” practised a different type of “Judaism” than the people of Jerusalem. Indeed, this hypothesis could also shed light on the case of the Samaritans, and perhaps also of a part of the Galilean population, if we adopt the view that some of the inhabitants of Galilee worshipped YHWH but did not have any close links with Judea and the temple of Jerusalem. Moreover, it is possible to think that Josephus projected his contemporary reality onto the Hasmonean period, and wished to take this opportunity to state that Samaria, Galilea and Perea had long been integrated into Judea. However, Josephus’ text can also be read in a more programmatic or prescriptive light: in these three nomes, whose population was to become Judean, in the 365 Schwartz, “The ‘Judaism’ of Samaria and Galilee,” 380–381. In the Loeb edition, Ralph Marcus notes that “Josephus seems to have interpreted the passage in the light of the divisions of Jewish territory in the 1st century AD” (LCL, 251). 366 Schwartz, “The ‘Judaism’ of Samaria and Galilee,” 382.

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sense that it was to be integrated into the Judean state, only the cult in the temple of Jerusalem was to be allowed and the entire population was to be submitted to the laws of Judea, and to its high priest. If this reading is correct, then the words attributed to Demetrius I prefigure the “Judaization” of the regions which were later placed under the authority of the Hasmoneans – that is to say, the imposition of the laws of Judea on the conquered territories. Whereas the author of 1 Maccabees asserts that Jonathan rejected Demetrius’ offer, Josephus implies that his proposal was in fact implemented. This contradiction can be explained by the fact that, as we have already mentioned, the author of 1 Maccabees is ambiguous on this point, since he does not state clearly at what stage the nomes or toparchies of Samaria officially passed under Judean control.367 Josephus’ interpretation of 1 Maccabees has significant consequences. It explains why, later on, Josephus has nothing to say about the way in which the people of Samaria, Galilee and Perea were Judaized (or forced to accept the laws of Judea) under Hyrcanus I, Aristobulus I and Jannaeus. His silence on this process is consistent with his account of what happened under Jonathan: as far as Josephus was concerned, these regions had already been more or less conclusively submitted to the laws of Judea, and he did not see any reason to return to this episode in his narrative. Instead, Josephus focuses on what happened to the Idumeans, in the south of Judea, and the Itureans, in the north of Galilee, since these two groups or areas had not been affected by the measures that he attributes to Jonathan. However, a certain number of contradictions do remain, since Josephus is wrong to assert that Samaria, Galilee, and Perea were annexed to Judea under Jonathan. In particular, his account of the wars waged by John Hyrcanus and of the destruction of the temple on Mount Gerizim does not sit well with the notion that Samaria was already integrated into Judea and that its only authorized cult was the cult of Jerusalem. Later, when Josephus describes the events of the high priesthood of Jonathan that correspond with 1 Maccabees 11:28 and 34, he writes, on the one hand, that Jonathan offered to pay Demetrius three hundred talents in exchange for Judea “and the three toparchies of Samaria, Joppa and Galilee” (Ant. 13.125, mistakenly substituting Joppa to Perea, which he mentioned in § 50), and on the other, that in answer to this offer, Demetrius II gave the Judeans “the three districts, Aphairema, Lydda and Ramathain, which had been annexed to Judea from Samaria (τοὺς τρεῖς νομοὺς Ἀφαίρεμα καὶ Λύδδα καὶ Ῥαμαθαιν, οἳ τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ προσετέθησαν ἀπὸ τῆς Σαμαρείτιδος) together with what appertains to them” (13.127). When Josephus starts to follow 1 Maccabees closely again in § 127, this produces an obvious contradiction in his narrative. What should we make of this imbroglio? My conclusion is not that the Judaization of certain groups – i. e. the fact that they were restricted to a single authorized cult which was the cult of the temple of Jerusalem, and forced to adopt the Judean 367

See footnote 359 (supra).

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laws and pay the taxes associated with this temple – happened on the initiative of the Seleucids. What is apparent, however, is the fact that this policy is attributed to the Seleucids in the Judean sources, that is to say in 1 Maccabees and the work of Josephus.368 It may be that the author of 1 Maccabees, and Josephus after him, wished to suggest that, in light of the policy initiated by the Seleucids themselves, it was legitimate for Simon and John Hyrcanus to force the populations of the conquered territories to adopt the laws of Judea. However, this claim also reflects the tendency (which we have already examined in the context of 1 Macc 15) of the author of 1 Maccabees to portray the Seleucids and the Hasmoneans as mirroring each other. This is a little like asking “How can our enemies reproach us with anything, when we are guided by the same principles and follow the same policies?” The fact that this rhetorical strategy is misleading, since the parallels the author of the First Book of Maccabees establishes between the Seleucids and the Hasmoneans are fallacious, does not seem to have been an issue for this master propagandist. To conclude this section on the “forced conversions,” it is important to emphasize that the populations of the territories conquered by the Hasmoneans were not uniformly forced to adopt the laws of Judea. As we have seen, there were a range of factors behind these differentiated policies, including the geographical proximity of a territory to Judea and the presence of Judeans in that area before the conquest. The Samaritans, and seemingly also the people of Galilee, may have been totally submitted to the Judean laws. In the case of Idumea, the fact that the Idumeans shared many cultural traits with the Judeans, and indeed perhaps also some common ancestors (via Jacob–Esau), led the Judeans to force them to adopt their laws and to integrate them durably into the Judean society; it also led at least some of these Idumeans to adopt the cult of YHWH. Conversely, however, the imposition of these laws was probably minimal in the case of the Greco-Syrian cities located on the coast and in Transjordan: in their case, it may have been limited to the payment of a tribute to the temple of Jerusalem, a loss of political autonomy, and a ban on worshipping idols in public (all of which must have been perceived as intolerable manifestations of their subjugation for the people concerned). As for the Itureans, they were in yet another category, since the Judeans seem to have entered with them into a political and military alliance, which does not seem to have involved the Judaization of the Iturean population. The imposition of the Judean laws on the people that the Hasmoneans subjected to their authority can be understood as exhibiting their wish to both combat idolatrous practices and consolidate their power over the Judean society and these conquered regions, via the fiscal regime they imposed on them from the temple of Jeru368 Seth Schwartz also observes in “The ‘Judaism’ of Samaria and Galilee,” p. 383: “Thus Josephus’s story, if thought to imply a claim about the status of central and northern Palestine, suggests that the subsequent Hasmonean incorporation of these areas and judaization of their inhabitants took place in fulfilment of the decrees of the Seleucid kings”.

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salem. In other words, their “religious” motivations (i. e. their rejection of the cults of the surrounding nations) were closely related to the pursuit of their political and economic interests. The policies of the Hasmoneans did not simply benefit them, but also considerably enriched Judea, or at least its elites. As such, they may have been perceived – or at least presented – as having increased the wealth of all the Judeans (as Eyal Regev suggests), as the propaganda account of Simon’s extension of the influence of Judea over Joppa and Gazara already seeems to imply (1 Macc 14:4–15.34). This being said, the idea that the Hasmoneans were inspired by Deuteronomic notions of anathēma and ethnic and religious cleansing is not corroborated by what the sources have to say about the Judaization of the people they conquered. On the rare occasions when Josephus does attribute a massacre to the Hasmoneans – for example, the killing of the population of Gaza by Jannaeus’ soldiers – this is explicitly put down to revenge, not to ․herem warfare. Moreover, the people of Gaza were not in fact entirely exterminated, and the city flourished once more under Gabinius. As we have seen, even the zeal against idol worship of the first generation of Hasmonean leaders was in part an image created by the author of 1 Maccabees, who wished to liken Mattathias and his descendants to Pinhas. It is important to emphasize that, inasmuch as we can reconstruct them, the Hasmoneans’s policies seem to have been differentiated. These policies were not entirely devoid of territorial considerations: the areas which were most thoroughly Judaized were those bordering Judea and Samaria. If we dismiss the flimsy (as we have seen) hypothesis that the people of the coastal cities were forced to convert to Judaism, we are left with a map of the Judaized territories – from Idumea to Perea and Galilee – that reflects neither the land distributed between the tribes in the Book of Joshua, nor the majority of the accounts of the promised land in the books of the Torah. The Hasmoneans were not preoccupied with the question of whether or not their territory had the same geographical boundaries as the ­promised land or the kingdom of David: instead, the real challenge for them was how to ensure that they kept control of areas peopled with non-Judeans. In order to achieve this, they adopted a range of different strategies, taking into account the specificities of the populations concerned. The situation that Marcel Launey describes in the introduction to his book Recherches sur les armées hellénistiques helps to appreciate the problems the Hasmoneans faced and the solutions they found: The Seleucids had to keep control of a vast and diverse empire with a propensity to disintegration. An extensive system of garrisons and colonies kept a constant watch over it, in order to prevent or repress any sign of its centrifugal tendencies: however, it was soon clear that this was not possible. The Lagids only had one country to keep in check, but they never truly made its conquest: they did not have to put up with dislocation, so much as with the sly and progressive, and sometimes open and brutal, revenge of the local population. Their occupation of the land tended especially to take the form of rural military settlements. This too was a partial failure: it gradually

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became necessary to associate the locals to the exercise of power. (Launey, Recherches sur les armées hellénistiques [Paris: E. de Boccard, 1949], 1:4)369

Although the land over which the Hasmoneans ruled was in no way of a comparable size and complexity as the empires of the Seleucids and Lagids, the territories annexed to Judea did confront the Judean rulers, mutatis mutandis, with similar challenges. They also met these challenges with similar answers, including giving Judeans parcels of land in the conquered territories, involving the local elites in the exercise of power (in Idumea, at least), and building citadels with garrisons composed at least in part of mercenaries. Let us now focus more closely on this last aspect of the Hasmonean governance, which was characteristic of the dynasty from John Hyrcanus onwards.

4. The use of mercenaries 4.1 A sign of the Hellenization of the Hasmoneans Hiring mercenaries was a common practice in the Hellenistic world. Indeed, the Judeans themselves would sometimes sign up to fight in Hellenistic armies. The Elephantine papyri show that there was already at least one Judean garrison in Egypt during the Persian era, and Josephus himself mentions the presence of Judean mercenaries in Egypt under Ptolemy Philadelphus, who had entrusted them with some of his citadels (Ant. 12.45, in connection with Letter of Aristeas 35–36). According to Ant. 12.147–153, king Antiochus III established two thousand Babylonian Jewish military settlers and their families in Phrygia, posting them to fortresses (§ 149) and giving them land (§ 151) in a bid to stabilize the region.370 Just before mentioning the nomes of Samaria that were annexed to Judea, 1 Macc 10:36–37 describes Demetrius I inviting the Judeans to enlist in his army. In his letter, the Seleucid king mentions that Judean soldiers would be entitled to the same pay as other mercenaries, before adding: 369 Original French text: “Les Séleucides doivent maintenir sous leur autorité un empire immense et disparate, enclin à se désagréger. Un système important de garnisons et de colonies, exerçant une surveillance incessante, devra prévenir ou réprimer toute manifestation de cette tendance centrifuge: entreprise qui se révèle très tôt irréalisable. Les Lagides n’ont à tenir qu’un seul pays, mais qui n’est jamais véritablement conquis: ce avec quoi il faudra compter, ce n’est pas la dislocation, c’est la revanche sournoise et progressive, parfois ouverte et brutale, de la population indigène. L’occupation du pays prendra, comme forme privilégiée, celle du colonat militaire rural. Échec partiel, ici encore: il faudra peu à peu associer l’indigène à l’exercice du pouvoir”. 370 Abraham Schalit has, it seems to me, established the overall authenticity of this text in “The Letter of Antiochus III to Zeuxis regarding the Establishment of Jewish Military Colonies in Phrygia and Lydia,” JQR 50/4 (1960): 289–318.

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Let some of them be stationed in the great strongholds of the king, and let some of them be put in positions of trust in the kingdom. Let their officers and leaders be of their own number, and let them live by their own laws, just as the king has commanded in the land of Judah. (1 Macc 10:37, my translation)

However, the fact that Jonathan rejected the proposal of Demetrius I leads us to the conclusion that the latter did not manage to recruit Judean mercenaries. Yet, Judean soldiers did fight alongside the Seleucids on a number of occasions, in the name of the alliances forged between Hasmonean leaders and Seleucid sovereigns. When war broke out between the citizens of Antioch and Demetrius II, the latter’s army included Jonathan’s Judean soldiers as well as his mercenaries (Ant. 13.137; cf. 1 Macc 11:45–51). We also know that following the alliance forged between Antiochus VII and John Hyrcanus, the latter fought at his side against the Parthians, with a Judean contingent. We also saw earlier that under Jannaeus, some Judeans chose to go to war with Demetrius III, fighting against their own king. The presence of Judeans in the Seleucid army was thus at least occasionally a reality. According to Josephus, John Hyrcanus was the first Hasmonean to recruit mercenaries, i. e. non-Judean soldiers.371 What prompted this decision, and why was it taken under Hyrcanus I? It seems likely that the Hasmonean leader’s decision was linked to his experience of waging war against the Parthians alongside Antiochus VII, and in particular to the opportunity this gave him to see how the Seleucid army operated. In any case, Hyrcanus’ decision to recruit mercenaries was a very significant step for the future of Judea, which gradually started to take on the characteristics of a “military state in the style of Hellenistic states,” to use a phrase coined by Édouard Will and Claude Orrieux.372 The recruitment of mercenaries was to continue under the descendants of Hyrcanus. Unfortunately, however, the sources do not provide us with any information on the precise terms under which they were recruited. The use of the verb ξενοτροφεῖν in War 1.61 and Antiquities 13.249 could suggest that these mercenaries were recruited for one (or more) specific campaign(s) rather than permanently integrated into the Judean 371 See J.W. 1.61 and Ant. 13.249, in which Josephus writes that the three thousand ­talents found in the tomb of David made it possible for him to hire these mercenaries. On this r­ ather fanciful story, see Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews, 405–407. We note that, according to 1 Macc 14:32, Simon “spent great sums of his own money; he armed the men of the army of his people (τοὺς ἄνδρας τῆς δυνάμεως τοῦ ἔθνους αὐτοῦ) and paid them wages (ὀψώνια)” (my translation), and this earns him praise. It also seems likely that the soldiers who were sent to Antioch by Jonathan, in order to come to the help of Demetrius II (1 Macc 11:44) were paid for this. Indeed, Marcel Launey considers that they were mercenaries (Recherches sur les armées hellénistiques, 1:553). However, Aryeh Kasher suggests that their wages may have come from looting (“The Changes in Manpower,” 339, note 35). In any case, neither Jonathan nor Simon re­cruited foreign mercenaries. Conversely, Josephus writes that John Hyrcanus was the first Judean to “support foreign mercenaries,” and the meaning of the term ξενοτροφεῖν is unambiguous. 372 Original French text: “État militaire de style hellénistique”; Will and Orrieux, Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos, 197.

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army. According to Elias Bickerman, the word ξένοι (xenoi) was used when soldiers were recruited for a specific campaign, whereas the term μισθοφόροι (mis­ thophoroi) suggested a more permanent military position.373 The fact that, writing on the recruitment of mercenaries under Jannaeus, Josephus uses the word misthophoroi, may indicate that the presence of mercenaries in the Judean army became permanent on this occasion. However, Marcel Launey has challenged this distinction between xenoi and misthophoroi, and shown that the three main words used to refer to mercenaries, xenoi, misthophoroi and stratiōtai (στρατιῶται), described different aspects of their condition (that is, their foreign origins; the pay they received; their status as professional warriors) as opposed to different types of mercenaries.374 As such, it is possible to think that the variations in the wording used by Josephus may not be significant, or else that when he used the word xenoi (implied in xenotrophein) in the context of Hyrcanus, Josephus simply meant that he was not recruiting Judeans, as Simon before him, but foreign mercenaries. In any case, it is clear that these soldiers were not Judean. According to Josephus, Alexander Jannaeus hired Pisidian and Cilician troops (J.W. 1.88; Ant. 13.374).375 Their numbers seem to have varied between 6,200 to 8,000 men, depending on the circumstances (J.W. 1.93; Ant. 13.338, 377).376 According to Bezalel Bar-Kochva, it was necessary to have this many 373 Bickerman, Institutions des Séleucides, 69. 374 See Launey, Recherches sur les armées hellénistiques, 1:26–30; É. Foulon, “Μισθοφόροι et ξένοι hellénistiques,” REG 108/1 (1995): 211–218; and J.-C. Couvenhes, “Les cités grecques d’Asie Mineure et le mercenariat à l’époque hellénistique,” in Les cités grecques et la guerre en Asie Mineure à l’époque hellénistique (J.-C. Couvenhes and H.-L. Fernoux, ed.; Tours: Presses Universitaires François Rabelais, 2004), 77–113. 375 Emmanuelle Main argues that some of the coins that were minted under Hyrcanus I and Jannaeus and bear a floral motif, represent a rose (as opposed to a lily), and suggests that these coins were linked with the recruitment of mercenaries from Rhodes; see Main, “Des mercenaires ‘rhodiens’ dans la Judée hasmonéenne? Étude du motif floral de monnaies de Jean Hyrcan et Alexandre Jannée,” REJ 165/1–2 (2006): 123–146. This is not to say that these bronze coins were used to pay the mercenaries: instead, she argues that John Hyrcanus “peut avoir ainsi marqué par son monnayage cette nouveauté politique qu’était l’enrôlement de mercenaires et donc la constitution d’une véritable armée de métier” (p. 137). David M. Jacobson challenges Main’s hypothesis, arguing that the apparition of the motif of the rose on Judean coins exhibited the stylistic influence of Rhodian coins and jars (“The Lily and the Rose: A Review of Some Hasmonean Coin Types,” Near Eastern Archaeology 76/1 [2013]: 16–27). Edward Dabrowa suggests that the mercenaries must have been paid in Tyrian silver shekels, since this was the most valuable currency circulating in Judea during the Hasmonean era (The Hasmonean and their State, 138, note 75). See also A. Ben David, Jerusalem und Tyros. Ein Beitrag zur palästinischen Münz und Wirtschaftsgeschichte (126 a.C.–57 p.C.) (Basel–Tübingen: Kyklos-Verlag–Mohr Siebeck, 1969), 7. 376 Josephus mentions the figure of 8,000 mercenaries in the context of the Judean war against Ptolemy Lathyrus (Ant. 13.338). In the context of the Judean war against Demetrius III, however, he states that they numbered 9,000 men in J.W. 1.93, but only 6,200 in Ant. 13.377. For the sake of comparison, Polybius claims that Ptolemy IV used 8,000 Greek mercenaries in the battle of Raphia, as well as 6,000 Thracians and Galateans, 4,000 of which were, or were de-

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men, in order to protect the borders of the state from the Seleucids and Nabateans. Although Jannaeus’ troops were mostly composed of Judeans, his army was not always entirely available, and its numbers must have varied over the course of his reign.377 Considering what Josephus tells us of the domestic opposition that Jannaeus faced, we can legitimately assume that he also needed to rely on mercenaries in order to ensure his personal safety and hold on to power: as Josephus writes in War, “he would never have quelled this conspiracy, had his foreign guard (τὸ ξενικὸν) not come to his aid” (J.W. 1.88). Josephus’ account of the conflict between Demetrius III and Jannaeus corroborates the notion that his mercenaries were loyal to him: Before action the two kings endeavoured by proclamations to cause desertion from the opposite ranks; Demetrius hoped to win over Alexander’s mercenaries, Alexander the Jewish allies of Demetrius. But, when neither would the Jews abate their resentment nor the Greeks their fidelity, they ended by referring the issue to the clash of arms. (J.W. 1.93–94; trans. Thackeray, LCL, 47)

In Ant. 13.378, Josephus also writes that all of Alexander’s mercenaries died “after giving proof of their loyalty and courage.” Salome Alexandra did not forget this lesson. Although her reign was not as bellicose as Jannaeus’, and although she made peace with the Pharisees, she continued to keep mercenaries in her pay. Although Josephus is critical of her, he does recognize that “she proved, however, to be a wonderful administrator in larger affairs, and, by continual recruiting doubled her army, besides collecting a considerable body of foreign troops; so that she not only strengthened her own nation, but became a formidable foe to foreign potentates” (J.W. 1.112; cf. Ant. 13.409: πολὺ μισθοφορικὸν συνίστησιν).378 Josephus’ account of this episode seems to imply that the queen did not feel that the Pharisees were entirely trustworthy, and that she made sure she had a backup plan.379 She was also vulnerable to opposiscended from, military settlers. As for Antiochus III, although he only had 5,000 Greek mercenaries, he could also count on the support of the Thracians, Cilicians, etc. (Polybius 5.65.4 and 10; 5.79.3–9). 377 See Bar-Kochva, “Manpower,” 168. He is followed by Kasher in “The Changes in Manpower,” and Regev in The Hasmoneans, 271. According to Ant. 13.337, when Alexander Jannaeus waged war against Ptolemy Lathyrus, his army was composed of 50,000 Judean soldiers (and Josephus adds that some sources give a figure of 80,000, but this figure is extravagant). However, according to J.W. 1.93, the Judean soldiers of Alexander Jannaeus only numbered 10,000 soldiers when he waged war against Demetrius III. On the number of men in the Hasmonean armies, see I. Shatzman, The Armies of the Hasmonaeans and Herod: From Hellenistic to Roman Frameworks (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991), 25–35. 378 Ibid., 55. 379 Edward Dabrowa also writes, speaking of Salome, that “… the only probable reason the queen nevertheless decided to keep mercenaries could be her desire to maintain, even against the Pharisees’ wishes, a politically and ideologically neutral force she could use to defend her

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tion from the opposite camp, that is, from the former allies of Jannaeus who were hostile to the Pharisees, supported Aristobulus II, and wanted to be treated with more consideration. Indeed, according to Antiquities, Salome Alexandra eventually gave in, entrusting them with the fortresses of the kingdom, except for those of Hyrcania, Alexandreion and Machaerus, where she kept most of her possessions (Ant. 13.417). Later, the queen having fallen ill, Aristobulus decided to take advantage of this opportunity to seize power. He went to the fortresses where the friends of his father were posted; the latter rallied around him, and, having accumulated riches, he put together an army stemming from Lebanon, Trachonitis and “(the kingdom of) the princes (τῶν μονάρχων)” (who were probably Iturean) (Ant. 13.427).380 Josephus gives a condensed account of this episode in the Judean War, writing that Aristobulus took the fortresses by force with the help of his supporters, and used the riches he found inside these citadels to recruit a large number of mercenaries (μισθοφόροι) and proclaim himself king (J.W. 1.117). This passage provides us with yet more evidence of the connection between a sovereign’s personal power and his access to mercenary troops. Last but not least, it is important to remember that if the use of mercenaries was very widespread in the Hellenistic world, it was also not unknown in the ancient Near East. According to the Bible, mercenaries were in use during the period of the Israelite monarchy. In particular, the biblical texts mention that David had Cherethite and Pelethite mercenaries (2 Sam 8:18), as well as six hundred Gittites from Gath, who came with their wives and children (2 Sam 15:18–22). As Gerhard von Rad emphasizes, in the biblical sources, the period of the monarchy coincides with the apparition of a professional army, with horses and chariots, and the use of mercenaries. This war machine was at odds, according to Von Rad, with the model of the “holy war,” in which it is the people of Israel who take up arms under the leadership of their God YHWH, in whom they place their faith and on whom they depend.381 The biblical prophets denounced the monarchy’s model of war, because it was expensive and dependent on foreigners. Mutatis mutandis, this tension between two models of war also characterized the Hasmonean period, when, from John Hyrcanus onwards, a Hellenistic professional army took over from the image we have in 1 Maccabees of Judas and his brothers leading the people (or part of the people) into war.

power against any possible enemy” (The Hasmoneans and their State, 95). 380 Aryeh Kasher emphasizes that this innovated on Jannaeus’ policy not to hire “Syrian” mercenaries (i. e. men who came for Syria, that is the territories surrounding Judea) (“The ­Changes in Manpower,” 351). However, it is worth observing that if these mercenaries were Itureans, and an alliance had already been forged with the Itureans under Aristobulus I, this practice was not as new as Kasher suggests. 381 See Gerhard von Rad, Holy War in Ancient Israel (trans. Ben C. Ollenburger; Grand ­Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1991).

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4.2 The Judaization of non-Judean populations versus the use of foreign mercenaries The decision to use foreign mercenaries meant that the Judean army was no longer a “national” army.382 It can seem rather surprising that the Hasmoneans should have taken this decision, since they were supposedly very hostile to non-Judeans and their cults, which they perceived as idolatrous. Edward Dabrowa expresses his perplexity in the following terms: The decision to hire mercenaries no doubt involved a number of consequences. Its impact must not be neglected if only because it presented a stark contrast to Simon’s, and also John’s, desire to remove the Gentiles from lands inhabited by Jews. However, we cannot define either the mercenaries’ place in the Judean army’s structure, or the reasons they were enlisted in the first place. (Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State, 83)383

This paradox becomes even greater if we take into account the fact that the Hasmoneans started to recruit foreign mercenaries – who were uncircumcised and in all likelihood polytheistic, something which, in the eyes of the Judean population, meant that they were idol worshippers – at precisely the same time the Hasmoneans started to Judaize non-Judean groups.384 According to Steven Weitzman, however, there is no contradiction between the Judaization of non-Judean peoples and the hiring of mercenaries: he argues that both measures show that they had given up on their attempt to “de-gentilize” the territory that was under their control. In other words, there is in his view no contradiction between these two policies. Moreover, Weitzman argues that both of these policies may have been motivated by the same need for more men, and that this was what caused John Hyr-

382 Cf. Shatzman, The Armies, 32. 383 There are however several probable reasons for this. Indeed, as we have seen in the previous section, Josephus explains that, in a climate of internal dissent, the mercenaries helped to guarantee the security of the Hasmonean state, as well as the personal safety of its sovereign. See also § 4.3 (infra). 384 Joseph Sievers observes with circumspection that “This policy may have been intended to unify the country and strengthen Hasmonean power, but it may also have expressed beliefs about the nature and importance of purity, of which the basic premise was that all inhabitants of the Holy Land should be Jewish. It is noteworthy that this policy [the circumcision, that is, the forced “conversion” of non-Judean populations] appeared – with the possible exception of Mattathias [sic!] – only in the reigns of those Hasmoneans who maintained a numerous force of mercenaries, probably uncircumcised. Whether there were theological reasons for this different treatment, or whether it was a matter of convenience is uncertain” (The Hasmoneans, 143).

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canus to take a different course of action than his father.385 Indeed, his conquests further increased the need for a greater workforce, both in order to control and manage the ressources of the new territoires and to fight in his wars.386 This does not preclude the fact that the conquests may originally have responded to a demographic necessity. Several scholars – including Bezalel Bar-Kochva, Shimon Appelbaum, Eyal Regev, and Edward Dabrowa – consider that the demographic growth of the Judean population and the scarcity of available land in Judea, were the key reasons why the Hasmoneans tried to enlarge the Judean territory.387 However, the demographic expansion of the population of Judea and Samaria is not clearly attested under Jonathan and Simon, beyond the growth of the city of Jerusalem.388 It is also possible to think that the scarcity of land may have been linked to other factors, such as the concentration of land in the hands of major landowners at the expense of small holders – certainly, the Zenon papyri and the Wisdom of Ben Sira both seem to suggest that this was the case.389 The conquests may have been motivated in part by the fact that Judean farmers needed more land, leading settlers to establish themselves on the newly-conquered territories. However, even if the 385 See Weitzman, “Forced Circumcision,” 53–55. He is followed by Daniel Schwartz, who writes: “First, looking back at the generation preceding Yannai, we may note Steven Weitzman’s suggestion that, by the late second century B.C.E. the Hasmonean state suffered from something of a manpower crisis: due either to demography or to politics, or both, there were not enough Jews around, and willing, to fill the ranks needed to maintain a state as large as the Hasmonean state had become. This will have played an important role in the background of two innovations in the days of Yannai’s father, John Hyrcanus: the introduction of non-Jewish mercenaries and the transformation of conquered foreigners into Jews” (“Yannai and Pella,” 358). 386 Cf. Smith, “The Gentiles,” 196. 387 However, Bar-Kochva admits that “the sources do not directly explain the Hasmonean expansion as the need to find new ‘living space’, but they do not offer any other explanation either except Simeon’s statement that the expansion was not an occupation of foreign land but the legitimate liberation of the Jewish fatherland (1 Macc 15:33–34)” (“Manpower,” 175). Eyal Regev refers to the work of Zeev Safrai, arguing that it shows that the Hasmonean era coincided with a period of strong demographic growth, unlike in Idumea and Samaria; however, he does not support this statement with a precise bibliographical reference (The Hasmoneans, 271–272). (Although this cannot be verified, he may be alluding to an article that Safrai published in Hebrew in 2000, “The Conversion of the Newly Conquered Areas in Hasmonean Judea”). Aryeh Kasher also admits the hypothesis that Judea was under pressure, as a result of its demographic expansion and lack of land. However, he considers that Simon and John Hyrcanus after him both had primarily political and religious motivations (a desire to purify the land and reconquer the ancestral land); see “The Changes in Manpower,” 344–345. 388 On an archaeological level, the growth of the Judean population is more clearly attested from the start of the first century B.C.E. (in Judea-Samaria). See Berlin, “Palestine in the Hellenistic Period: Between Large Forces,” 41. 389 See M.-F. Baslez, “Les Juifs face à la culture grecque. Religion et société en Judée, aux époques lagide et séleucide (IIIe–IIe siècles),” in L’Orient méditerranéen de la mort d’Alexandre aux campagnes de Pompée. Cités et royaumes à l’époque hellénistique (ed. F. Prost; Pallas 62; Rennes– Toulouse: Presses Universitaires de Rennes–Presses Universitaires du Mirail, 2003), 263–280 (see p. 270).

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scarcity of available land may have motivated the Hasmonean wars of conquest early on, the settlement of large numbers of Judeans on newly-conquered land may have led many to become demobilized, and the Hasmonean army to lack the soldiers it needed. In turn, this may have led John Hyrcanus, and Aristobulus after him to look for ways to integrate new populations into Judea, in order to increase the ranks of the Judeans, and to resort to recruiting mercenaries.390 As for Alexander Jannaeus, he continued to integrate the populations of Idumea and Galilee into Judea, while also relying heavily on his army of mercenaries. Although these explanations are possible, it seems to me that we are underestimating the role played by another more obvious factor. Mercenaries were probably recruited according to their combat skills, in order to make the Hasmonean army stronger in the face of the Seleucid army, which benefited from the skill of its many professional soldiers. On this issue, historians have failed to appreciate fully the impact on John Hyrcanus of his participation in the campaign of Antiochus VII against the Parthians. This campaign provided the Hasmonean leader with a precious opportunity to observe the Seleucid army and its contingents of mercenaries at work. It seems to me that it can hardly be a coincidence if he went on to become the first Hasmonean to recruit mercenaries. However, this implies looking at the policy of John Hyrcanus in a strategic and pragmatic, as opposed to ideological, light.

4.3 The mercenaries and the Judean opposition to the Hasmoneans The relationship between the hiring of mercenaries and the Judean opposition to the Hasmoneans can be approached in two different ways, which are not mutually exclusive. On the one hand, as we have already suggested, the Hasmoneans may have resorted to mercenaries in order to ensure their own personal safety and strengthen their hold on power in the face of internal opposition. On the other hand, the use of mercenaries may have led a segment of the Judean population to oppose them.391 In spite of his enthusiastic endorsement of John Hyrcanus, Josephus mentions in Antiquities that internal opposition to the Hasmonean dynasty began during his high priesthood, and later grew to become much more of a threat under Alexan390 See for example Kasher, “The Changes in Manpower,” 346. 391 Gedalyahu Alon dismisses this possibility, on the grounds that the Pharisees supported Salome Alexandra even though she used mercenaries. According to him, “the hiring of mercenary armies, which at that period obtained also in other kingdoms, was connected with national-economic and social factors, and is not particularly significant for national-spiritual considerations” (“Did the Jewish People and its Sages…,” 3). However, Alon is blind to the issues raised by the presence of foreign soldiers in Judea. The Pharisees may have tolerated this aspect of the queen’s policy in a spirit of pragmatism, while nevertheless disapproving of this practice.

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der Jannaeus. In other words, it is well possible that, from Hyrcanus onwards, the Hasmoneans hired mercenaries not only to make their army stronger, but also to protect their interests, keep watch over the fortresses where they kept their riches, and crush any rebellion.392 The fact that Josephus claims that Hyrcanus recruited mercenaries in the immediate aftermath of his defeat at the hands of Antiochus VII might in theory seem to invalidate this hypothesis, for chronological reasons. However, since this account is linked to Josephus’ erroneous chronology of the wars waged by John Hyrcanus, it can hardly be invoked as an argument challenging the correlation between the emergence of an internal opposition to Hyrcanus and his use of mercenaries. Indeed, it is not possible to date either events with any precision. It is also possible that John Hyrcanus initially resorted to mercenaries in order to increase his chances of success in his campaigns against the Seleucids, and that it was not until the end of his high priesthood, or even until his descendants were in power, that they were used to maintain the “security” of the state in the face of mounting internal opposition. Whatever the case may be, it seems completely plausible that one of the reasons why the Hasmoneans recruited mercenaries was that they needed to strengthen their hold on power in the face of internal opposition. However, this immediately raises the question of the backlash such a measure would have provoked within the Judean society, at least in circles which dreamed of a Judea without “idolaters”.393 We get a clear sense of how averse the Judeans were to foreign contingents in the refusal of the population of Jerusalem to accept the presence in their city of a foreign garrison, as requested by Antiochus VII at the end of the siege of 134/33 B.C.E. (Ant. 13.246–247). It seems unlikely that this aversion would have disappeared in the space of time separating the start and the end of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus. Yet, if Hyrcanus hired mercenaries in order to protect the dynasty from its internal – as well as external – enemies, this implies that some of these troops were stationed in or near Jerusalem, and not simply on the borders of the kingdom, as Bezalel Bar-Kochva suggests.394 Without having to go as far as Morton Smith, who argues that they were staying with the locals, it does not seem plausible to think that they were stationed very far away from the centre of power.395 392 Cf. Smith, “The Gentiles,” 197. 393 See Weitzman, “Forced Circumcision,” 56. 394 Bar-Kochva, “Manpower,” 181. 395 According to Morton Smith, it is clear that they were stationed in Jerusalem and lodged with the locals; see “The Gentiles,” 197–198. This was indeed the practice in the Hellenistic world, even though requisitioning the locals to lodge mercenaries in their midst tended to produce discontent among the population of the city in question; conversely, a king could grant a city the privilege of being exempted from having a garrison stationed in its midst (see Couvenhes, “Les cités grecques d’Asie Mineure,” 98–99). However, it seems inconceivable to me that the Hasmoneans would have forced the Judean population to put up foreign mercenaries. As such, I reject this hypothesis, as well as the notion that they eventually acquired the status of katoikoi on the Judean territory. Some of these mercenaries must have been stationed close to Jerusalem.

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The question of where the Hasmoneans put up their mercenaries has not received much attention to date, probably because the sources do not have much to say on this issue. However, their presence on the Judean territory must have caused a number of thorny problems associated with their accommodation and cohabitation with the local population. In his analysis of the relationship between the mercenaries and the cities, Jean-Christophe Couvenhes observes that in some cases the gymnasium and the sanctuaries fostered exchanges between the citizens and mercenaries.396 However, this scenario seems very unlikely in Hasmonean Judea. The fact that Jannaeus used mercenaries to quell the opposition mounted by the Pharisees cannot have improved the image of either Jannaeus or these foreign soldiers, who in any case got bad press in the Hellenistic world in general.397 Indeed, Menahem Stern observed that the nickname of Thrakidas that Josephus attributes to Jannaeus in Ant. 13.383 implicitly suggests that there was a connection between his use of (Thracian) mercenaries and the perception that he was a cruel despot.398 In this context, one may wonder whether the Hasmoneans’ decision to hire mercenaries did not eventually contribute to the opposition they faced at home, leading them to become stuck in a vicious circle. This being said, Diodorus is the only author to suggest that the Hasmoneans’ use of mercenaries provoked discontent among the Judean population, and was one of the reasons for the opposition they faced under Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II.399 As I have already mentioned, he writes that when Pompey went to Damascus, two hundred eminent Judeans went to see him, asking for the right to be governed not by a king but by a high priest only. They complained of Aristobulus and Hyrcanus, accusing them of ruling Judea without any regard for the Judeans’ ancestral laws, of having unjustly subjugated their fellow countrymen, and of having based their claims to royal power on mercenaries, acts of violence, and impious murders.400 According to Diodorus, Pompey then reproached Hyrcanus – or rather Aristobulus, the text seems corrupted here – for his treatment of the Judeans and lack of respect for the Judean laws, as well as for his crimes towards the Romans. Diodorus goes on to suggest that the Hasmonean king was 396 Couvenhes, “Les cités grecques d’Asie Mineure,” 99–101. 397 See for example Polybius 13.6.3–5; 34.14.3. 398 See M. Stern, “Thrachidas: Surname of Alexander Jannaeus in Josephus and Syncellus,” Tarbiz 29 (1960): 207–209 (Heb.); idem, GLAJJ, 1:187. On the Thracian mercenaries in the Hellenistic – and especially Seleucid – armies, see G. T. Griffith, The Mercenaries of the Hellenistic World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1935), 144, 146–147; Launey, Recherches sur les armées hellénistiques, 1:366–398; B. Bar-Kochva, The Seleucid Army: Organization and Tactics in the Great Campaigns (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 33–34, 42, 50–52, 171. 399 On this account, see Stern, GLAJJ, 1:185–186 (No 64); Weitzman, “Forced Circumcision,” 56. 400 Diodorus 40.2: Τούτους δὲ νῦν δυναστεύειν καταλελυκότας τοὺς πατρίους νόμους καὶ καταδεδουλῶσθαι τοὺς πολίτας ἀδίκως· μισθοφόρων γὰρ πλήθει καὶ αἰκίαις καὶ πολλοῖς φόνοις ἀσεβέσι περιπεποιῆσθαι τὴν βασιλείαν.

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only exonerated because of the clemency of Rome, following his promise to be more obedient.401 In his own account, in Ant. 14.41–47, of this meeting with Pompey, Josephus mentions what the Judean people reproached to the two brothers (without speaking of the role that the Judean dignitaries played). In particular, he mentions their wish to be governed by priests, as opposed to a king, and the fact that they accused the Hasmoneans of having reduced their people into slavery – indeed, the theme of slavery is often closely associated with that of tyranny, for example in Strabo, 16.2.40. However, Josephus makes no reference to mercenaries in this context.402 According to Richard Laqueur – who is followed on this point by Menahem Stern (cautiously), Bezalel Bar-Kochva and Israel Shatzman – Diodorus and Josephus shared a common source for this episode: Theophanes of Mytilene, who was Pompey’s friend and freedman.403 However, Bar-Kochva considers that Diodorus’ account is not reliable. In particular, he argues that we should take what he has to say about the grievances of the Judeans, with a grain of salt.404 Although it is plausible to think that the Judean delegation complained about the mercenaries, it is in fact not excluded that this accusation was part of a topos connected with the despotic image of the last Hasmoneans. Last but not least, some scholars have suggested that the Hasmoneans’ need to finance the mercenaries (and their military activities, more widely) from John Hyrcanus onwards, led them to subject the Judean population to excessive taxes, leading a part of the people to oppose the dynasty.405 However, Bezalel Bar-Kochva categorically rejects this claim, which is in fact poorly substantiated, since there is no evidence in the sources that the last Hasmoneans overtaxed their subjects.406 Indeed, the fact that several sources mention the wealth of the Judean leaders could suggest that they did not need to impose new taxes on their subjects in order to pay their mercenaries. 401 These crimes against the Romans may refer to acts of piracy, as Uriel Rappaport (“La Judée et Rome”) and David Goodblatt (The Monarchic Principle, 37) suggest, based on what Josephus writes in Ant. 14.43. 402 Unlike Diodorus, Josephus provides us with an account of what Hyrcanus reproached his brother, in particular his aggressive behaviour towards their neighbours and acts of piracy. He also mentions that Hyrcanus benefited from the support of one thousand members of the Judean elite, at the instigation of Antipater. Finally, he also tells us what Aristobulus replied to the accusations levelled at him by his brother. 403 See Laqueur, Der jüdische Historiker Flavius Josephus, 149; Stern, GLAJJ, 1:186; Bar-­ Kochva, “Manpower,” 180; Shatzman, “The Hasmoneans in Greco-Roman Historiography,” 28– 30. 404 See Bar-Kochva, “Manpower,” 179–181. 405 This is for example the thesis that Abraham Schalit develops in “Domestic Politics and Political Institutions,” in The World History of the Jewish People, Vol.6: The Hellenistic Age (ed. A. Schalit; Tel Aviv: Massadah, 1972), 255–297 and 339–345 (esp. 268–271). 406 Bar-Kochva, “Manpower”.

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4.4 The Hasmoneans’ accumulation of riches The conquests did not just enrich Judea, but the Hasmoneans first and foremost, starting with Simon. According to the author of the First Book of Maccabees, “he fought for his people, he spent much of his own wealth (ἐδαπάνησεν χρήματα πολλὰ τῶν ἑαυτοῦ), he armed the men of the army of his people and paid their wages (ὀψώνια)” (1 Macc 14:32). In the next verse, the author adds that Simon fortified the cities of Judea as well as Beth-Zur and posted Judean soldiers there, paying them from his own pocket, according to the verses that follow. Although the author could have mentioned that the Hasmoneans drew on public funds in order to keep the Judean territory and people safe, he emphasizes the fact that Simon used his personal wealth to pay for these expenses, thus adopting the style of governance of a king.407 When Simon met with Athenobius, the Seleucid emissary was awed by “the glory of Simon and a cabinet for wine cups with gold and silver plate and considerable ostentation” (1 Macc 15:32; trans. Zervos, NETS, 501). In this way, the author of 1 Maccabees attempted to portray Simon as a leader whose riches rivalled those of the Seleucid court. Similarly, the monumentality and ostentation of the tomb that Simon erected for his father and brothers (1 Macc 13:27–30) also exhibited the Judean ethnarch’s ambition to achieve a quasi-royal status. Andrea M. Berlin similarly observes: One last but notable feature characterized the archaeological record of later-­secondcentury BCE Judea. For the first time in this region, conspicuous displays of individual wealth appeared. This change was inaugurated by the Hasmonean rulers themselves, who are the first to spend lavish sums on elaborate architecture. Two types of remains were endowed: tombs and private residences. Such spending soon became the fashion among the Jewish aristocracy as well. By the later Hellenistic period, the architecture from Jerusalem and Judea revealed an attitude towards personal wealth and its public display in keeping with the larger culture of the Hellenistic Mediterranean. (Berlin, “Palestine in the Hellenistic Period: Between Large Forces,” 32)408

407 Aryeh Kasher does not believe that Simon himself paid the Judean soldiers who were posted in the fortresses or fought for Judea. Instead, he argues that Simon must have used public funds to pay them (“The Changes in Manpower,” 343). However, there was no clear distinction between Simon’s personal wealth and the income of the state; see footnote 409 (infra). In any case, what is clear is that the author of 1 Maccabees did seek to emphasize Simon’s personal investment in the defence of Judea, at his own expense. 408 Eyal Regev observes that the palaces of the Hasmoneans were not lavish, and that the fact that many of their water features and gardens could be seen from the outside suggests that the Hasmoneans wished to share their wealth with their people (The Hasmoneans, chapter 6). Nevertheless, it remains that they built many palaces, and that these may not have been all that modest in their eyes. Similarly, the gardens and pools that Regev himself calls “luxurious” (p. 251) were also meant to increase the prestige of the dynasty.

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Where did Simon’s riches come from? The fact that Judea had been exempted from having to pay the phoros and other taxes to the Seleucids (some of which had already been abolished under Jonathan) since 142/41 B.C.E., meant that Judea’s tax income was now divided between the temple and the head of state – i. e., Simon –, who could use this money to pay for his soldiers’ wages and for the nation’s military infrastructure.409 In turn, the conquered territories brought in new fiscal revenues, in particular the taxes collected in the port of Joppa. The farming of new land also constituted an additional source of income. Although the author of 1 Maccabees writes that the corridor separating Joppa from Judea had not become the equivalent of a “royal domain” (γῆ βασιλική) – i. e. Simon’s personal property – since he had established Judean settlers there (1 Macc 14:34), we nevertheless do not know how these settlements were run. In the parallel passage from Antiquities (13.215–217), Josephus does not mention that settlers were established there; however, this could simply be due to the fact that this passage is very brief. And if parcels of land were in fact distributed to war veterans, should we infer from this that they benefited from an ateleia, exempting them totally from having to pay any taxes? The fact that this type of exemption was rather unusual in the Hellenistic world,410 suggests that it is more likely that they were taxed, but at a reduced rate, and that this generated yet another source of income for the Hasmonean state.411 The financial health of the Hasmoneans suffered a blow at the start of the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus, as a result of his war against Antiochus VII. However, the state of their finances gradually improved after that, thanks to the period of relative calm that Judea enjoyed until 113/12 B.C.E. Josephus writes that this gave John Hyrcanus “the leisure to exploit Judea (καρποῦσθαι τὴν Ἰουδαίαν)” and to accumulate a vast amount of wealth (Ant. 13.272–273).412 On top of the revenues that they derived from taxes and the exploitation of the estates that were the personal property of the Hasmonean dynasty, John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I and Alexander Jannaeus accrued vast riches from the spoils of their wars of conquest,

409 As Maurice Sartre rightly observes, “comme grands-prêtres et comme ethnarques, [les Hasmonéens] contrôlent toutes les sources de revenus, ceux du Temple et ceux de l’État” (D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 406). Yet, not a single Hasmonean seems to have taken the dime which was for the income of the priests or any other revenue connected with the cultic activities at the temple. The fact that the legitimacy of the Hasmoneans was intimately linked to the restoration and upkeep of the cult at the Jerusalem temple, probably means that they behaved more like evergetes than crooks. See also Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State, 158. 410 See however OGIS 229, for example. 411 Cf. Applebaum, “The Hasmoneans: Logistics, Taxation and the Constitution,” 17–18. 412 John Hyrcanus managed to regain control of the port area. According to Shimon Applebaum, Pegai/Pegae could refer to Arethusa, a customs post in the third century B.C.E. which may still have had that function when the border between Judea and the rest of the Seleucid kingdom passed through this area (“The Hasmoneans: Logistics, Taxation and the Constitution,” 14).

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as well as the additional resources yielded by their new territories.413 The kingdom that Jannaeus bequeathed to Salome Alexandra was wealthy and the riches that were kept in the Judean fortresses that Aristobulus II captured, allowed him to recruit mercenaries and become king (Ant. 14.417, 427, 429). Josephus implies that, already under Hyrcanus I, these assets were used to pay for the mercenaries – i. e. he did not need to resort to the creation of a new tax for this purpose. However, it remains difficult to determine the levels of tax paid by the Judeans, the Idumeans, the Galileans, and the cities conquered by Jannaeus. Although there probably existed a range of different tax rates, and although the Judeans themselves probably had to bear an acceptable tax burden (especially in comparison with the period of the Seleucid domination), we do not have any figures on this subject.414 The other point under dispute concerns the amount of real estate which was the direct property, or royal domain (γῆ βασιλική), of the Hasmoneans. Maurice Sartre writes that: “Another ‘Hellenistic’ characteristic [of the Hasmoneans] seems to have been the creation, for the benefit of the Hasmoneans, of a veritable royal domain, from which they accrued considerable financial power”.415 The excavations carried out in Jericho by Ehud Netzer have shed light on the existence of a vast agricultural estate that was directly associated with the palace, and abutted an area devoted to artisanal activities, allowing the products of the estate to be turned into other goods on the spot. The creation of this agricultural estate may go back to Simon at the earliest, or John Hyrcanus at the latest. The estate was then enlarged circa the year 100, under Alexander Jannaeus, thanks to the development of a new system of pipelines, which brought in water not only from the Wadi Qelt, but also from ‘Ein Auja and the springs at Na‘aran.416 This estate and the artisanal products associated with it must have been a considerable source of revenue. What about the territories that the Hasmoneans conquered in Idumea, Samaria, etc.? Some scholars are reluctant to suggest that they were responsible for the 413 Cf. Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 41: “The Hasmonean state was enriched by its constant warfare and plunder, especially of the wealthy Greek cities of the coast and the desert fringe, under Alexander Yannai.” See also Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State, 157– 158. According to 1 Macc 15:30, the conquered territories paid taxes to the Judean government from Simon onwards. For an account of the different types of resources available to the Hasmonean dynasty, see Rappaport, The House of the Hasmoneans, 370–379. 414 In Judea itself, the population probably had to pay the dekatē, as well as the taxes collected on behalf of the temple. Cf. Bar-Kochva, “Manpower,” 171–172 and 186 (he bases his argument on Ant. 14.203); Applebaum, “The Hasmoneans: Logistics, Taxation and the Constitution,” 21–22. However, the word dekatē does not necessarily mean that they were subjected to a 10 % tax rate (Bar-Kochva, ibid., 172, n.1). 415 Original French text: “Un autre trait ‘hellénisant’ paraît être la constitution au profit des Hasmonéens d’un véritable domaine de la couronne qui leur donne une puissance financière considérable” (Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 406). 416 See E. Netzer, Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho, 2: Stratigraphy and Architecture (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2004), 3–38 (for a description of the agricultural estate).

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creation of a “royal domain,” on the grounds that this policy seems typically Hellenistic to them. Thus, Aryeh Kasher writes: As for the conquered lands, it is not clear whether these were handled in accordance with Hellenistic administrative procedures. Were they considered as “land conquered by the sword” (δορίκτητος χώρα) – that is, spoils of war – which, by ancient (including Macedonian and Hellenistic) custom, belonged to the victorious king and conqueror? Did the Hasmonean rulers pursue the same course of action in this matter as had other kings in the Hellenistic Orient, taking advantage of the Hellenistic laws of war to make the conquered territories (including the Hellenistic cities) into their own property, and defining the status of those territories by means of the familiar term “the king’s land” (χώρα βασιλική or γῆ βασιλική)? (Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 167–168).

The three Samarian nomes or districts annexed to Judea may have been personal gifts to the Hasmoneans, in the same way that Jonathan was given Ekron (Akkaron) and its territory by Alexander Balas (1 Macc 10:89; Ant. 13.102).417 Several scholars have drawn parallels between these Hasmonean domains and the notion of the “king’s mountain” (Har ha-Melekh) mentioned in the Babylonian Talmud, in the context of Alexander Jannaeus.418 The latter included the three nomes, as well as a strip of land between Beth-Shemesh and the area around Lydda.419 Finally, Josephus refers in Ant. 14.207 to the “villages” that Hyrcanus and his ancestors owned “in the Great Plain.” However, Joshua Efron considers that there is in fact no connection between the “king’s mountain” and Jannaeus.420 Certainly, the texts of the Babylonian Talmud are unreliable from a historical point of view, and the parallel traditions in the Jerusalem Talmud do not mention Jannaeus, only the prosperity of the land before its destruction at the hands of the Romans. This being said, Joshua Efron’s argument is not without an apologetic dimension. There is a tendency among some historians of the Hasmonean dynasty to claim, in order to emphasize the difference between the latter and the Hellenistic kings, that they showed great care for their people, and that this led them to give their land away rather than accumu-

417 Shimon Applebaum argues that these three nomes were part of the Seleucid royal domain in “The Hasmoneans: Logistics, Taxation and the Constitution,” 12. According to G. G. Aperghis, returning to a theory already formulated by Rostovtzeff, Bickerman and Cohen, all the land that was not attached to a city or temple was part of the royal domain (The Seleukid Royal Economy, 87–113). 418 See b. Berakhot 44a and b. Gittin 57a. Cf. Applebaum, ibid., 24; Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities, 167–168; Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie, 406. 419 A few indications are provided in m. Shevi‘it 9:2; y. Shevi‘it 9:2. 420 Efron, Studies on the Hasmonean Period, 203–205.

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late wealth for themselves.421 However, even if it does seem doubtful that the Hasmoneans would have kept all the conquered territories for themselves, it remains that their wealth can only be understood if we accept that looting had a part in it, and that they generated revenues from their family’s vast estates.422 Moreover, it is important to examine the consequences that their decision to take the title of kings (from Aristobulus I onwards) had on the status of their newly-conquered territories: did they become part of the “royal domain,” as in the Seleucid model? Eyal Regev’s account of the Hasmoneans as a dynasty that placed the well-being of its people above all other considerations is rather idealistic. It would be more accurate to say that the Hasmoneans made every effort to propagate the notion that they were devoted to the cause of their people – and indeed this is the image reflected in 1 Maccabees and the numismatic sources.423 The fact that this public image was at the heart of their propaganda does not mean that it reflects their actual policy, nor that their policy remained unchanged. My point is not to portray the Hasmoneans as tyrants who turned their back on Judaism as they became more Hellenized, as was once popular, since this would merely be a caricature. However, it is clear that even if the conquests did benefit the Judean population as a whole, those they really enriched were first and foremost their leaders. Indeed, Shimon Applebaum goes as far as suggesting that the Hasmoneans concentrated an increasing amount of land, and that this may have played a part in the popular discontent they faced.424 In conclusion, it is clear that, based on the account of Josephus alone, it is not possible to determine with any certainty whether it was the wealth of the Hasmoneans or the mercenaries they recruited thanks to this wealth that fuelled the 421 This line of argument is perceptible in the work of Bezalel Bar-Kochva (“Manpower”), and more especially in that of Eyal Regev, who writes that “… the Hasmoneans’ religious qualities were quite exceptional, and they differed notably from conventional ‘personal’ Hellenistic monarchies. In the Hellenistic ‘personal’ monarchy, for example, the king ruled a ‘spearwon’ land for his own benefits and glory; he was the state, and the people lacked any political role. The Hasmoneans, by contrast, regarded themselves as ruling on behalf of the Jews, in the manner that certain scholars have also attributed to the Macedonian national monarchy” (The Hasmoneans, 224). 422 Cf. Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State, 157; he reminds us that, according to Josephus, Hyrcanus II at one point wished to retire on a private estate, which may imply that all the different members of the family had their own clearly-defined patrimony (Ant. 14.6). 423 See C.-G. Schwentzel, “Images du pouvoir et fonctions des souverains Hasmonéens,” RB 116 (2009): 368–386. He writes that “La première fonction assumée par les souverains hasmonéens, d’un point de vue chronologique, fut celle de chefs militaires. Elle fut associée aux images littéraires du glaive et du lion pour les Maccabées, puis au casque et à la palme sur le monnayage de Jean Hyrcan Ier. Les Hasmonéens voulurent également se présenter comme les bienfaiteurs des Juifs. Ce fut bien sûr le cas de Judas, libérateur et restaurateur du Temple, mais aussi de ses successeurs qui se posèrent en garants de la richesse et du bien-être de leur peuple. C’est ce que proclamaient, dans la numismatique, les symboles de la double corne d’abondance et de l’ancre” (384–385, my emphasis). 424 Applebaum, “The Hasmoneans: Logistics, Taxation and the Constitution,” 27–28.

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internal opposition that they faced, from the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus onwards. Up until now, we have only come across these ideas in the non-Judean sources that we have examined. Thus, Diodorus claims that the mercenaries are one of the reasons for the opposition to the Hasmoneans, while Strabo describes the Hasmoneans as looting tyrants, a portrayal which may have originated with their Judean, or Idumean, foes. However, their criticism of the dynasty is focused on its style of governance, which they both describe as despotic and illegitimate, rather than on its wealth or use of mercenaries. As we shall see in Part III, the Jewish sources from that period, such as the Qumran scrolls and the Psalms of Solomon, throw more light on the nature of the opposition that the Hasmoneans faced. We can nevertheless already conclude that the presence of foreign mercenaries on the Judean soil under John Hyrcanus, makes it impossible to interpret his policy towards the Idumeans as an attempt to “de-gentilize” the Holy Land, banishing all idol worshippers from Judea. The wars that he waged were not primarily motivated by the wish to cleanse the land of Israel of idolatrous practices. The same is true of his successors, who were even more dependent on their mercenaries, as well as – in the case of Aristobulus II – on troops loaned by neighbouring princes. Indeed, the last Hasmonean monarchs took almost exactly the same approach to the management of war as the rulers that were their contemporaries in the Hellenistic world.

Part III Polemic, Memory, Forgetting

Whatever his failings as a historian may be, Flavius Josephus provides us with a historiographical account of the Hasmonean dynasty in both Jewish Antiquities and the Judean War. The same is true of 1 Maccabees, despite the author’s partisan stance. In contrast, the texts that I examine in this last part of the book were not written in a historiographical perspective. Instead, they give us insights into some of the polemical debates stirred by the Hasmonean wars, and preserve fragments of the memory of these wars. While a certain number of Qumran scrolls constitute veiled polemical attacks on the dynasty, the rabbinic texts – which were written long after the Hasmonean era had come to an end – provide us with an altogether more neutral account of this period, even if their selective reconstruction and re-reading of the events of the past do not always preclude criticism. These two types of sources do not purport to transmit a historical account of the dynasty, but this does not mean that they contain no historical information at all. It is simply that this is not what they set out to do: they are more interested in the logic of denunciation, exaltation, or exhortation, and as such focus on episodes that are understood in the light of biblical texts, and whose signification is primarily symbolic. Only two rabbinic texts exhibit a concern for the chronology and exact dates of some of the specific events of that period: these are Seder ‘Olam Rabba, which Chaim Milikowsky dates to the end of the first, or the beginning of the second, century C.E.; and Megillat Ta‘anit, which Vered Noam dates to the period between 41 and 70 C.E. (this last text should be distinguished from the commentary (scholion) that was added to it in the talmudic or post-talmudic period).1 However, it was not until the beginning of the 10th century that the Jewish tradition produced a new “historiographical” account of the Hasmonean dynasty, with the Sefer Yosippon, which is essentially based on the work of Flavius 1 Ch. Milikowsky, “Seder Olam,” in The Literature of the Sages. Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of Rabbinic Literature (ed. S. Safrai et al.; Assen–Minneapolis: Van Gorcum–Fortress Press, 2006), 231–237; idem, Seder Olam: Critical Edition, Commentary, and Introduction (2 vol.; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2013), 1:125 and 129; V. Noam, “Megillat Taanit–The Scroll of Fasting,” in The Literature of the Sages. Second Part, 339–362; idem, “Megillat Ta’anit (The Scroll of Fasting),” in The Encyclopedia of Ancient History (ed. R. S. Bagnall et al.; Oxford: Blackwell, 2013), 4415– 4416. See also § 2.1 (infra).

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Josephus and the Books of Maccabees. As for the work known as Megillat Antiochus (“Scroll of Antiochus”) – or Megillat Beit H. ashmonay (“Scroll of the Hasmonean Dynasty”) – it dates from the 8th or 9th century C.E. and is a legendary account of the noble deeds of the Maccabees, with a focus on the institution of Hanukkah. This allegedly ancient work enjoyed great popularity and was read out at the synagogue during the festival of Hanukkah. It seems to have been used to establish the legitimacy of Hanukkah in the eyes of the Karaites, who did not ­recognize non-biblical festivals.2 Although the Hasmoneans provoked a new surge of interest in the Middle Ages, we should not overlook the fact that between the first century C.E. and the early Middle Ages, the memory of the dynasty’s wars of conquest had almost entirely fallen into oblivion. Whereas the wars of liberation against the Greeks are frequently mentioned in rabbinic literature, in association with the festival of Hanukkah, the Jewish literature of the Roman period – with the exception of Josephus’ work – seldom mentions the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus and his successors, or their reconstitution of a Jewish kingdom on a territory that covered at least a significant portion of the promised land.

1. The polemic against the Hasmoneans In Part II, we saw that all the different sources describing Pompey’s meeting with Aristobulus and Hyrcanus, or with the delegates of the Judean opposition to the Hasmoneans, depict them as tyrants who forced themselves on the people (Diodorus), used mercenaries (Diodorus) and/or were guilty of brigandage (Strabo; see also the accusations that Hyrcanus levels at his brother in the work of Josephus). These accusations are partly corroborated by the Dead Sea Scrolls, Jewish sources produced independently of Josephus.

1.1 The critique of the Hasmoneans in the Qumran manuscripts3 Although they seldom refer explicitly to historical facts, the scrolls discovered at Qumran provide us with insights into the perception of the Hasmoneans within Judean society. It must be emphasized that only part of these texts were written 2 See H. L. Strack and G. Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash (2d ed.; trans. and ed. M. Bockmuehl; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 331; A. Kasher, “The Historical Background of ‘Megillath Antiochus’,” in Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 48 (1981): 207–230; Z. Safrai, “Appendix: The Scroll of Antiochos and the Scroll of Fasts,” in The Literature of the Sages. Second Part, 238–240. 3 On the Hasmoneans in the Qumran scrolls, see H. Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State (Grand Rapids–Jerusalem: William B. Eerdmans–Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2008); E. Dabrowa, “The Hasmoneans in the Light of the Qumran Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in

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by the Essenes: in other words, they were not all “sectarian.” Some of these scrolls predate the community or movement associated with Qumran, and document the development of certain ideas in the Judean society at large, or at least in the sacerdotal circles which eventually gave rise to the Essene movement. Others may date from the same period as the writings of the Essene communities. I shall focus on a certain number of texts, likely to shed light on the perception of the Hasmoneans in the second and first centuries B.C.E., and I shall attempt as far as possible to say whether or not these manuscripts stem from “sectarian” circles.

1.1.1 The first two generations: Mattathias and his sons

According to Hanan Eshel, who has closely examined the references to the Hasmoneans in the Qumran scrolls, these writings do not allude anywhere to Mattathias and Judas.4 As for Jonathan, he argues that he is the “wicked priest,” who, according to Pesher Habakkuk, persecuted the “teacher of righteousness” associated with the beginnings of the Essene movement in the Dasmacus Document.5 First formulated when research on the Qumran scrolls was still in its infancy, this thesis remains dominant today. However, some scholars have challenged it, suggesting – among other things – that the phrase “wicked priest” could be a generic title and may have been used to describe different historical figures.6 Even if we Context: Integrating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Study of Ancient Texts, Languages, and Cultures (ed. A. Lange et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 501–510. Dabrowa considers that the Qumran manuscripts do not shed much light on the history of Judea. 4 Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 27. 5 See 1QpHab VIII 8, IX 9, XI 4, XII 2 and 8; CD I 11. A plot fomented by the “wicked priest” against the teacher of righteousness is also mentioned in a pesher on the Psalms (4Q171 3–10 iv 8). It seems likely that both the pesher on Psalms and Pesher Habakkuk refer to the same event (cf. Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 37). This well-established theory was notably formulated by Joseph T. Milik (Dix ans de découvertes dans le désert de Juda [­Paris: Cerf, 1957], 48–58) and Geza Vermes (Discovery in the Judean Desert [New York: Desclee, 1956], 88–97). In a recent article, James VanderKam returns to this question and comes to the conclusion that Jonathan is the most likely candidate (“The Wicked Priest Revisited,” in The ‘Other’ in Second Temple Judaism: Essays in honor of John J. Collins [ed. D. C. Harlow et al.; Grand ­Rapids–Cambridge, W. B. Eerdmans, 2011], 350–367). See also É. Puech, “Jonathan le Prêtre Impie et les débuts de la communauté de Qumrân: 4QJonathan (4Q523) et 4QPsAp (4Q448),” RQ 17 [65–68] (1996): 241–270; and Babota, The Institution of the Hasmonean High Priesthood, 121–122. 6 See for example W. H. Brownlee, “The Wicked Priest, the Man of Lies, and the Righteous Teacher – The Problem of Identity,” JQR 73/1 (1982): 1–37; A. S. van der Woude, “Wicked Priest or Wicked Priests? Reflections on the Identification of the Wicked Priest in the Habakkuk Commentary,” JJS 33/1–2 (1982): 349–359; idem, “Once Again: The Wicked Priests in the ­Habakkuk Pesher from Cave 1 of Qumran,” RQ 17 [65–68] (1996): 375–384; I. Fröhlich, “Evaluation of the Hasmonean Period in the Pesharim of Qumran and in the Revised Version of the Assumption of Moses,” in “Time and Times and Half a Time:” Historical Consciousness in the Jewish Literature of the Persian and Hellenistic Eras (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 154–173

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consider that the phrases “teacher of righteousness” and “wicked priest” refer to a single individual in both cases, the different characteristics associated with the wicked priest in Pesher Habakkuk do not correspond to any known historical figure, and the interpretations of several key passages diverge.7 I shall return later to various aspects of this text. There may be a reference to Jonathan, the brother of Judas, in 4Q245, a fragmentary manuscript which is written in Aramaic and seems to have contained a list of high priests, including Onias (‫ )חוניה‬on line 9, and “Jona]than (and) Simon (‫יונ]תן‬ ׄ ‫)שמעון‬,” on line 10. The fact that these names appear in a list which also mentions Zadok or Onias seems to imply that the compiler of the list was not hostile to, or critical of, these high priests: however, this cannot be ascertained, since fragments of text are all that remain of this document.8 Certainly, it seems that Jonathan and Simon were figures with an exclusively sacerdotal role: on the following line, the document goes on to list the names of the kings of Israel, including David and Solomon on line 11. The clear distinction between the two lists provided in this manuscript seems to reflect a worldview according to which sacerdotal and royal roles had to be kept separate. This is in fact a recurrent theme in the Qumran scrolls. However, the phrase “king Jonathan” does appear in 4Q448. This could seem to suggest that this text documents the perception of Jonathan, the brother of Judas, as king. However, the figure in question is in fact more likely to be Alexander Jannaeus, whose Hebrew first name was also Yehonatan, i. e. “Jonathan.” I shall therefore discuss this scroll in the context of the other manuscripts mentioning Jannaeus. Émile Puech argues that another very fragmentary text, 4Q523, speaks about Jonathan, because it mentions the name “Jonathan” on line 2: however, the identification of the bearer of this name with the brother of Judas remains hypothetical, especially since it is impossible to ascertain what this manuscript is about.9

(she considers that in Pesher Habakkuk, the phrase “wicked priest” refers to Alexander Jannaeus and his sons collectively; see in particular 164–165). In his book The Pesharim and Qumran History (Grand Rapids–Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2002), James H. Charlesworth argues that the title of “wicked priest” may have been given first to Jonathan, then to Simon, before being used for all the Hasmoneans; however, he contends that the phrase “teacher of righteousness” refers to a single individual (30–37). 7 See for example R. Van de Water, “The Punishment of the Wicked Priest and the Death of Judas,” DSD 10/3 (2003): 395–419, esp. 397: “The statements about the punishment of the Wicked Priest do not confirm that he died at the hands of gentiles. His temporal punishment, already past, involved sickness, as well as inner turmoil, inflicted by evil spiritual forces. His future, eschatological judgment is clearly distinguished from past suffering by the use of verbal forms, as well as by contextual differences”. 8 Frg. 2 includes two occurrences of the word “wickedness” (‫ )רשעא‏‬on lines 2 and 6; however, there is no context against which to interpret this word. 9 Émile Puech argues in “Jonathan le Prêtre Impie et les débuts de la communauté de Qumrân” that this manuscript formulates a critique of Jonathan, the brother of Judas.

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The Qumran scrolls thus have almost nothing to say on the first two generations of Hasmoneans – i. e. Mattathias and his sons. The references they make to a “wicked priest” are the only possible exception to their silence on the early Hasmoneans. If we agree that this “wicked priest” can be identified with Jonathan, then the Qumran scrolls may be said to cast the first Hasmoneans in a negative light overall (the same is true if we follow Émile Puech’s interpretation of 4Q523), even if Pesher Habakkuk suggests that the behaviour of the wicked priest was initially honourable (VIII 8–9). Above all, however, it is striking that the Dead Sea Scrolls do not seem to have preserved the memory of the wars that Mattathias and his sons waged against the Seleucids. Their silence on this point is in marked contrast with the rabbinic sources, which repeatedly recall the liberation of Israel from under “the yoke of the Greeks,” and as such focus mainly on the early days of the dynasty (see infra).10

1.1.2 John Hyrcanus 4Q379: Was John Hyrcanus the “man of Belial”?

The Apocryphon of Joshua – as its editor, Carol Newsom, calls it – may contain a fairly radical critique of John Hyrcanus and his policy of conquest. Two copies of this text seem to have been preserved: the first is 4Q378, which dates from the Herodian era, and the second 4Q379, which dates from the Hasmonean period. However, this identification is based solely on a number of similarities in their style and subject-matter: there are in fact no textual overlaps between the two manu­ scripts (I shall focus later on the case of 4Q522, which is sometimes identified as a third copy of this text).11 The fact that 4Q175 – of which there is only a single copy, dating from the start of the first century B.C.E. – quotes an extract from 10 This is all the more striking that some of the Qumran manuscripts (such as 4Q248) reflect events associated with Antiochus IV; see M. Broshi and E. Eshel, “The Greek King is Antio­ chus  IV (4QHistorical Text = 4Q248),” JJS 48/1 (1997): 120–129. See also Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 13–27; he writes on p. 21 that “None of the Qumran scrolls has produced a description of the Hasmonean Revolt, whether of Mattathias’ exploits or of Judah Maccabees’ battles.” After reviewing all the Qumran manuscripts alluding to historical events, Geza Vermes felt compelled to conclude that the key historical events attested by the Qumran documents is not the crisis of 167–164 B.C.E., as in the Book of Daniel, but the defeat of the Hasmoneans at the hands of the Romans in 63 (“Historiographical Elements in the Qumran Writings: A Synopsis of the Textual Evidence,” JJS 58/1 [2007]: 121–139). Such a theory would explain why these documents have relatively little to say about Mattathias and his sons. 11 See C. Newsom, “The ‘Psalms of Joshua’ from Qumran Cave 4,” JJS 39/1 (1988): 56–73; idem, “4Q378–4Q379. Apocryphon of Joshua,” in DJD XXII. Qumran Cave 4. XVII. Parabiblical Texts, Part 3 (ed. G. J. Brooke et al.; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 237–288 (esp. 278–281); T. H. Lim, “The ‘Psalms of Joshua’ (4Q379 frg. 22 col. 2): A Reconsideration of its Text,” JJS 44/2 (1995): 309–312; D. Dimant, “Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian: The Case of the Apocryphon of Joshua,” in Reworking the Bible: Apocryphal and Related Texts at Qumran (ed. E. G. Chazon et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2005), 105–134.

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4Q379 seems to suggest that this texts dates from the second century B.C.E., or the very beginning of the first century B.C.E. at the latest.12 There are allusions in the Apocryphon of Joshua to the crossing of the desert, the death of Moses and the arrival of Israel in the land of Canaan, as well as prayers and exhortations. 4Q379 (frg. 22 col. ii) includes an account of Joshua’s prophecy against anyone who dares to rebuild the walls of Jericho (Josh 6:26): Cursed before the Lord be the man who arises to build this city – this Jericho [the reference to Jericho is missing in the LXX and 4Q379]! At the cost of his firstborn he shall lay its foundation, and at the cost of his youngest he shall set up its gates!13

This quotation is introduced, on line 7 of fragment 22 ii, with the words “When Josh[u]a fin[ish]ed pr[aising and giving] than[ks] with [his] songs of praise [he said:],” and is followed by this commentary: And behold, [cur]sed be the m[an of Belial] 10 [who arises] to b[e] a fowler’s snare14 to his people and a cause of ruin to all hi[s] neighbours.15 He will ari[se]16 11 […] the two of them being vessels of violence,17 and they will again build 12 [t]his [city]. And they will establish for it a wall and towers in order to make[ a refuge for wickedness] 13 [in the land], a great [w]ickedness18 13a19 /in Israel and a horrible thing in Ephraim [and in Judah20…]/ 14 [And they will make a pollution21] in the land and a great act of impiety22 among the sons of Jacob. And [they] will po[ur out blood] like wa[ter upon the ramparts of the Daughter of Zion] 15 [and within the boundary of Jerusalem23] vacat […]. (4Q379 22 ii 9–15; trans. C. Newsom, DJD XXII, 279–280)24 12 Some scholars argue that the fact that the author of the Apocryphon used the tetragram (YHWH) may indicate that this work is an ancient composition, predating 150 B.C.E. However, this is not a convincing argument, as Carol Newsom rightly observes (“The ‘Psalms of Joshua’,” 60). 13 I have slightly modified the NRSV translation of the text to make the comparison with 4Q379 easier. In 4Q379 the text is as follows: “8 C[ursed be the m]an who rebu[il]ds this [ci]ty. With [his] firstborn [shall he lay its foundations] 9 and with [his yo]ung[est] shall he set up its doors.” 14 ‫ח יקוש‬ ‫פ ‏‬: see Hos 9:8. 15 Or “object of terror”. 16 Or: “They will ari[se]”. However, the parallel passage in 4Q175 is written in the singular. 17 See Gen 49:5. 18 See Jer 26:19. 19 This line is written in smaller characters and was inserted in between lines 12 and 13. 20 See Jer 23:14 and Hos 6:10–11. 21 See Jer 23:15b. 22 Or: “blasphemy”. Cf. Jer 23:17; Neh 9:18.26. 23 See Ps 79:3; Lam 2:8. 24 The bracketed words have been reconstructed using 4Q175: ‫ות[יו ויאמר]‏‬ ֯ ‫בתהל‬ ֯ ‫ל]ה[לל ולה]ו֯ ֯ד[ו]ת‬ ׄ [‫[ו]ע‬ ֯ ‫[ל]ה י֯ ֯ש‬ ֯ ‫ בעת אשר ֯כ‬7 ]‫בבכר[ו ייסדנה‬ ֯ ‫הזאת‬ ֯ ‫[העי]ר‬ ׄ ‫יב[נ]ה את‬ ֯ ‫‏ ֯א[רור הא]י֯ ֯ש אשר‬‎8 ]‫והנ֯ ֯ה[ אר]ו֯ ֯ר ֯א[יש בליעל‬ ֯ vacat ‫[צ]עי֯ [רו י]ציבדלתי֯ ֯ה‬ ֯ ‫ ו֯ ֯ב‬9 ‫]לה[יו]ת פח יקוש לעמו ומחתה לכל שכנ[י]ו ועמ[ד]‏‬ ֯ ‫ [עומד‬10‫‏‬‎ ‫‏[…]ן֯ להיות שניהם כלי חמס ושבו ובנו ֯א[ת]‏‬11‫‏‬

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As Devorah Dimant emphasizes, this text’s interpretation of Joshua 6:26 is akin to what we would expect to find in a pesher, even though it does not resort to the technical terminology of a pesher (in particular, the words “And behold,” ‫והנ֯ ֯ה‬ ֯ take the place of the term pishro, “its explanation…”).‎25 The “man of Belial” corresponds to “the man who arises to build” in Josh 6:26, and the other figures implied by the use of the plural from line 11 onwards must therefore be the first-born and the youngest child mentioned in the biblical verse. The fact that the Apocryphon is an interpretation of the same type as a pesher and that it uses the same chronological system as Jubilees, means that it shares some of the characteristics of the so-called “sectarian” works. However, the fact that it does not use the specific terminology of the sectarian texts means that it exists in a grey area, like a certain number of texts which share some of the characteristics of the sectarian works but were not necessarily produced within the Essene movement itself. Why should we establish a connection between this text and John Hyrcanus? An interpretation that is of the same type as a pesher is likely to allude to someone in particular. In fact, the text probably focuses on someone who was more or less contemporary with the author, since the pesharim always interpreted the texts which they commented in light of current events. However, we do not know when the redaction of the text took place (or indeed if it took place in several stages). This lack of information means that it may not be possible to identify the person alluded to in this text.26 The hypothetical identification of “the man of Belial” with John Hyrcanus is based – among other things – on the fact that excavations led by Ehud Netzer show that Hyrcanus started to build a Hasmonean palace in Jericho, and that his sons took up this building project after him. Later, Alexander Jannaeus had a new, fortified palace erected on the foundations of the earlier structure, raising it higher so it would overhang the plain of Jericho. After that, it was the turn of Salome Alexandra to erect “twin palaces” on this site.27 It is possible to think that when both Antigonus and Aristobulus died suddenly and in quick succession ‫‏[העיר ה]זאת ויציבו לה חומה ומגדלים לעשות[ לעוז רשע]‏‏‏‬12 ‫ושפ[כו‏דם]‏}‏‬ ֯ ‫…]‏{בבני יעקב‬ ‫ [בארץ ר]עה גדלה בישראל ושערוריה באפרים[ וביהודה‬13 ‫ [ועשו חנופה] ֯בארץ ונאצה גדלה ֯כמי֯ [ם על חל בת ציון]‏‬14 ]…[◌◌◌◌◌]‫‏[ובחוק ירושלם‬15 The words {‫ושפ[כו‏דם]‏‬ ֯ ‫ }בבני יעקב‬should be moved after ‫ ונאצה גדלה‬on line 14. 25 Dimant, “Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian,” 130–133. 26 Carol Newsom suggests that this work may have been written in the third century B.C.E., but considers that this remains an open question. See Newsom, “The ‘Psalms of Joshua’,” 72–73. 27 Eshel, “The Historical Background,” 415; idem, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 75. On the Hasmonean palaces in Jericho, see E. Netzer, “The Hasmonean and Herod­ ian Winter Palaces at Jericho,” IEJ 25 (1975): 89–100; idem, Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho, 1: Stratigraphy and Architecture (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2001), 1–7, 13–49, 301.

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(the former was murdered, and the second died of an illness), some of Hyrcanus’ contemporaries remembered the curse hanging over the man who would dare to rebuild Jericho, and the prediction that his two sons would die.28 However, these arguments invite several observations. Firstly, it is important to note that Jericho is not named, and that the city that is being rebuilt could be another city, such as Jerusalem, which is ­explicitly mentioned at the end of the text in 4Q175 (line 30). The quotation from Josh 6:26 (on line 8) only mentions “this [cit]y,” ‫הזאת‬ ֯ ‫ [העי]‏ ׄר‬‎‫את ‏‬, as opposed to “this city, this Jericho” in the MT; later, the same lack of precision characterizes lines 11–12, where we once again find the words “[t]his [city],” ‫א [ת העיר ה] זאת‬. ֯ However, this is not necessarily a modification introduced by the author of the Apocryphon: his choice of words could also be explained by the type of text that he had for the Book of Joshua. In the Septuagint, for example, there is no mention of “Jericho”.29 However, in view of the fact that the reference to Joshua is central to 4Q379, and that the text quotes Josh 6:26, it is nevertheless possible to suppose that, in this particular case, the pesher does refer to Jericho.30 This point allows us to try and identify the “man of Belial,” even if the evidence remains somewhat ambiguous. The second argument – based on the untimely death of the two sons of John Hyrcanus – is more problematic. In the First Book of Kings, Joshua’s prophetic curse is presented as having been accomplished in the days of Ahab: In his days Hiel of Bethel built Jericho; he laid its foundation at the cost of Abiram his firstborn, and set up its gates at the cost of his youngest son Segub, according to the word of the Lord, which he spoke by Joshua son of Nun. (1 Kgs 16:34)31

28 See in particular Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 68, n. 15, and 80. 29 In this work, the text reads: Ἐπικατάρατος ὁ ἄνθρωπος, ὃς οἰκοδομήσει τὴν πόλιν ἐκείνην. 30 However, Lea Mazor writes that “… the author of the pesher felt free to use the Jos. text in order to sound the alarm about what was taking place in Jerusalem in his own day. He could do so, since his biblical text spoke anonymously of “this city” (‫ )העיר הזות‬without explicit reference to Jericho. The identification with Jerusalem was made easy by the fact that of the 55 occurrences of the expression ‫ העיר הזות‬in the Bible, 53 refer to Jerusalem (excluding Jos. 6:26 and inner-biblical parallels)” (“The Origin and Evolution of the Curse upon the Rebuilder of Jericho: A Contribution of Textual Criticism to Biblical Historiography,” Textus 14 [1988]: 1–26, quotation on p. 6–7). Similarly, Devorah Dimant writes that “Although the last words are not preserved by 4Q379 22 ii, the reference to walls of Jerusalem confirms the understanding that the entire exposition applies the biblical curse to Jerusalem rather than to Jericho” (“Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian,” 126 and 130). However, the phrase “this city” clearly refers to Jericho in Josh 26:6 LXX, and the spilling of blood in Jerusalem does not necessarily mean that Jerusalem is the city that was rebuilt by the man of Belial. 31 In the LXX, this anecdote comes immediately after Josh 6:26: καὶ οὕτως ἐποίησεν Οζαν ὁ ἐκ Βαιθηλ· ἐν τῷ Αβιρων τῷ πρωτοτόκῳ ἐθεμελίωσεν αὐτὴν καὶ ἐν τῷ ἐλαχίστῳ διασωθέντι ἐπέστησεν τὰς πύλας αὐτῆς.

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In this extract from Kings as in Josh 6:26, Joshua’s curse implies the death of the first-born and the youngest son of the man who rebuilds Jericho. But is this also the case in 4Q379? Does this manuscript mention two sons, and if so where? The text initially speaks of a figure in the singular on lines 9–10, before switching to a plural on line 11 (or perhaps at the end of line 10, but this cannot be ascertained since this part of the text is missing). It might have been possible to think that the text originally mentioned a second figure alongside the man of Belial, were it not for the use, on line 11, of the phrase “vessels of violence” (‫כלי חמס‬, keley ․hamas). This is an implicit reference to Gen 49:5: there is no other occurrence of the phrase “vessels of violence” in the biblical texts than in this verse of Genesis, where these words refer to Simeon and Levi, the sons of Jacob. The underlying allusion to Gen 34 is transparent: in order to avenge their sister Dinah, raped by the prince of Sichem, Simeon and Levi killed all the males of the city with the edge of the sword. Even if it is no more than a literary reminiscence, the presence of the phrase “vessels of violence” (‫ )כלי חמס‬in 4Q379 can thus be understood to point to two brothers, who were probably the sons of the man of Belial. This reading seems especially likely when we consider that the text focuses on a biblical verse which mentions a man and his two sons, and that the relationship between this verse and its interpretation is of the same type as in a pesher. The fact that Aristobulus and Antigonus seem to have been associated with Hyrcanus’ campaign against Sichem, and that they were directly involved in his campaign against Samaria, adds further confirmation to this reading. Indeed, this may explain why they were identified with Simeon and Levi. However, even if we accept that 4Q379 alludes to a man and his two sons, the interpretation of Joshua’s prophecy in the Apocryphon is at odds with the more obvious understanding of his prediction. In 4Q379, the ‫ ב‬of ‫ בבכרו‬and of ‫בצעירו‬ in Josh 6:26 does not mean “at the cost of ” (his sons), but is used in the sense of “with” (the help of his sons). The fact that, on lines 11 and 12, the verbs “to come” (‫)ושבו‬, “to build” (‫)ובנו‬, and “to establish” (‫ )ויציבו‬are in the plural, indicates that they describe an action performed jointly by the man of Belial and his acolytes. In other words, the sons (if we accept the hypothesis that they are indeed the sons of the protagonist) took part in the rebuilding of the city and its walls.32 However, since the text does not mention that the protagonists paid with their lives for the refoundation of the city, it is not possible to suggest that they died a brutal death and to use this argument to identify them with Antigonus and Aristobulus, and the man of Belial with Hyrcanus I. On close analysis, the biblical reminiscences and allusions contained in 4Q379 yield more clues about the identity of the man of Belial. Like most of the texts found at Qumran, the language of this work is densely interwoven with biblical phrases. This can probably be explained in part by the scribal culture of the authors, as well 32

As Carol Newsom rightly emphasizes in “The ‘Psalms of Joshua’,” 70 and 72.

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Polemic, Memory, Forgetting

as by their predilection for an associative and allusive (indeed perhaps secret) language – this predilection is attested, in particular, by the use of “code names” in sectarian writings to refer to the opponents of the community.33 Let us begin by looking at the words “a cause of ruin for all hi[s] neighbours” on line 10. Although the word ‫( מחתה‬meh ․itah, which is translated here as “ruin,” but also means terror, or horror) is commonly found in the Hebrew Bible, the phrase ‫“( מחתה לכל שכניו‬a cause of ruin/object of horror to all hi[s] neighbours”) in 4Q379 refers specifically to ‫“( מחתה לכל סביביו‬a cause of ruin/object of horror to all those around”) in Jer 48:39.34 The parallel between the two cannot be fortuitous, since this phrase has no equivalent in any other biblical text or Qumran scroll. In Jeremiah, God states that he has broken Moab, who is presented as “a derision and an object of horror to all those around,” because the judgment that God passed on Moab implies that it will be destroyed. In the Apocryphon of Joshua, the word meh ․itah evokes both the agent of destruction and the destructive action: the reason why the man of Belial causes terror, or is an object of horror for his neighbours, is not because he has been destroyed by God, but because he spreads destruction on his path, in the same way that he is a snare for his people not because he has been ensnared, but because he lays snares – and this is why it is justified to call him a “man of Belial.” The fact that 4Q379 resorts to a phrase used in Jer 48:39 with reference to Moab, may seem to suggest that the wicked man’s actions against his neighbours had to do with Moab. If this reference has any foundation in historical reality, it points to either John Hyrcanus, who conquered Medeba and Samoga in Moab, according to Josephus, or to Alexander Jannaeus, who also conquered several territories in this area.35 In any case, the text’s account of the man of Belial suggests a figure who is a political and military leader and threatens the neighbours of the Judeans. This is a pernicious ruler, who causes the downfall of his people, spills blood in Jerusalem, and spreads ungodliness in the land. Indeed, there may even be a suggestion that this figure is an anti-Joshua, since, in the Apocryphon, Joshua’s prophetic curse is related to the man of Belial. We might arguably also invoke another element in order to corroborate this hypothesis. In the Apocryphon of Joshua, the pesher on Josh 6:26 contains several allusions to the theme of false prophets and the persecution of genuine prophets. As Hanan Eshel observes, the phrase ‫( פח יקוש‬pah ․ yaqush, “a fowler’s snare”) on line 10 probably comes from Hos 9:7–8:36 33 See in particular M. A. Collins, The Use of Sobriquets in the Qumran Dead Sea Scrolls (London–New York: T&T Clark, 2009). 34 See Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 81–82; Dimant, “Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian,” 128 (who mistakenly writes 29 instead of 39). 35 See Part II of this book. 36 Eshel, “The Historical Background,” 418–419; Dimant, “Between Sectarian and Non-Sectarian,” 127. In the Qumran manuscripts, the only occurrences of this phrase are in 4Q379, 4Q175 and 4Q185 1–2 ii 5, a text which is similar to the Psalms.

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351

The days of punishment have come, the days of recompense have come; Israel cries, “The prophet is a fool, the man of the spirit is mad!” Because of your great iniquity, your hostility is great. The prophet is a sentinel for my God over Ephraim, yet a ­fowler’s snare is on all his ways, and hostility in the house of his God.

These lines describe a prophet who is persecuted by the children of Israel, and driven to insanity by the iniquity of his people. In 4Q379, it is the wicked political and military leader who is a fowler’s snare for his people, and a fortiori for the real prophets who may dwell among them. The theme of the persecuted prophet, whose message goes unheeded, returns later in the text. Even if the phrase ‫“( ר] עה גדלה‬a great [wi]ckedness,” or evil) on line 13 is ubiquitous in the Bible, it occurs especially frequently in the Book of Jeremiah (16:10; 26:19; 32:42), where it is used in connection with the Babylonian conquest, and the destruction of Jerusalem and the first temple.37 Although the idolatrous practices of the people and their refusal to listen to the prophet Jeremiah explain it, this “great evil” is nevertheless ultimately the responsibility of the leaders of the kingdom of Judah. This inference might seem rather tenuous, were it not for the much more specific reference to the Book of Jeremiah that can be detected on lines 13–14, using a textual reconstitution based on the quotation of this passage in 4Q175. The combination of the words ‫ שערורה‬or ‫( שערוריה‬sha‘arurah, “horror”), ‫( חנופה‬h ․anufah, “profanation”) and ‫ נאצה‬or ‫( נצה‬neatzah, “scorn,” “blasphemy,” “wicked act”) only occurs in Jeremiah 23:14–17, in a passage which also mentions an “evil” (‫)רעה‬.‎38 In fact there is only one occurrence of the word ‫“( חנופה‬profanation”) in the entire biblical corpus, Jer 23:15.39 As for the word ‫“( שערורה‬horror”), it only appears four times in the Bible: three of these occurrences are in Jeremiah,40 and one in Hos 6:10. In other words, the language of this pesher on Josh 6:26, in 4Q379, is strongly influenced by the Book of Jeremiah, and also, though to a lesser extent, by the Book of Hosea. Both works condemn the people of Israel for their betrayal of God, and cast responsibility for this state of affairs on their political and religious leaders. Thus, this is what we read in Hos 6:9–10 (the passage in which the elusive term ‫ שערוריה‬appears):

37 See also Jer 44:7 (on the Judean refugees in Egypt) and Dan 9:12 (where the words ‫רעה‬ ‫ גדלה‬are also connected with the destruction of Jerusalem in the days of Jeremiah). The phrase ‫ רעה גדלה‬also occurs in Gen 39:9; 1 Sam 6:9; 2 Sam 13:16; Jon 4:1; and Neh 1:3; 2:10 and 13:27. 38 To be more precise, it is not the noun ‫ נאצה‬but the active participle that is formed from the same root that we find in Jer 23:17 (“those who scorn me,” i. e. who scorn God). Neh 9:26 also contains the words ‫נאצות גדולת‬, “great blasphemies” (i. e. wicked acts implying scorn for God) in connection with the murder of the prophets who exhorted the people to repent. 39 See Newsom, DJD XXII, 281. 40 See Jer 5:30; 18:13 and 23:14.

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Polemic, Memory, Forgetting

As robbers lie in wait for someone, so the priests are banded together; they murder on the road to Shechem, they commit a monstrous crime. In the house of Israel I have seen a horrible thing (‫ ;)שערוריה‬Ephraim’s whoredom is there, Israel is defiled. (Hos 6:9–10)

This reference to Sichem (Shechem) may not be insignificant: its association with the reference, in Gen 34, to Simeon and Levi’s massacre of the Sichemites may corroborate the hypothesis that the pesher is alluding to Hyrcanus and his sons. It may be that the author of the Apocryphon considered that the indictment of priests in Hos 6:9–10 foretold the arrival of the Hasmonean high priests. As for Jer 5:30–31 (which is one of the verses from the Book of Jeremiah in which the word ‫ שערורה‬appears), it mentions false prophets and corrupt priests who have amassed great riches (5:27–28). Bearing in mind Josephus’ remark on the wealth of John Hyrcanus (Ant. 13.273), we may wonder whether, in this case too, the opponents of the dynasty read this verse as a prophetic reference to the Hasmoneans. In Jer 23 – which is the key passage behind the Apocryphon (and which also contains another occurrence of the word ‫שערורה‬, sha‘arurah) – God begins by condemning the unrighteous “shepherds,” i. e. the iniquitous leaders of Judah, before announcing that he will give his people a just king descended from David (Jer 23:1–8). The chapter then goes on to condemn false prophets: verse 10 mentions that the land is under a curse (‫אלה‬, alah) because so many sins have been committed there, and v.11 explains that “both prophet and priest are ungodly” (‫חנפו‬, “have polluted” or “profaned”) and that they have even committed their wicked acts inside the sanctuary itself.41 Similarly, in v.15, we read that “from the prophets of Jerusalem ungodliness (or: profanation) has spread throughout the land” (‫)חנפה לכל הארץ‬, a phrase which echoes the words “a pollution (or: profanation)] in the land” (‫ )חנופה] ֯בארץ‬in 4Q379 22 ii 14 (the restitution is based on 4Q175 28). Verses 16–17 denounce the lies of the false prophets, who dare to say that God will bring peace to those who scorn him (‫)למנאצי‬. This polemic against false prophets continues until the end of the chapter. To sum up, Jer 23 radically condemns the iniquitous leaders, false prophets and wicked priests that bring ruin on the kingdom of Judah. The language of verses 9 to 40, which especially target false prophets, echoes the choice of words used in the pesher. Reading between the lines, the fact that Jer 23 – as well as other texts such as Jer 48:39, Hos 6:9–10 and 9:7–8, and Gen 49:5 – all lie in the background of the pesher on Josh 6:26, suggests that the man of Belial also had something to do with false prophecies. If we consider that Josephus tells us that John Hyrcanus had received the gift of prophecy, and that no one makes this claim about any other Hasmonean, this is a significant argument in support of the identification of Hyrcanus I with the man of Belial. This also means that the opponents of the man of Belial, whose point of view is represented in the pesher, may have seen 41

Jer 23:11: ‫כי גם נביא גם כהן חנפו גם בביתי מצאתי רעתם נאם יהוה‬.

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themselves as the heirs of the true prophets of Israel, following in the footsteps of Hosea and Jeremiah. But let us turn to the end of the text. In the version transmitted in 4Q175, the ending echoes the description, in Ps 79:3, of the nations which have “poured out their blood like water all around Jerusalem, and there was no one to bury them.” On lines 14–15 of the pesher on Josh 6:26, Ps 79:3 is applied to the man of Belial and his sons: “And they will po[ur out blood] like wa[ter upon the ramparts of Daughter Zion] 15 [and within the boundary of Jerusalem…].” Incidentally, the author of 1 Maccabees also drew on this verse from Ps 79, applying it to a high priest that he considered as illegitimate: Alcimus, who was allied with ­Bacchides. Thus, we are told in 1 Maccabees that after the Hasideans accepted the hand that Alcimus had extended to them, with the promise that he would not hurt them, Alcimus promptly had sixty men arrested and killed that same day, and the author argues that this was the accomplishment of Ps 79 (1 Macc 7:16). In 4Q379, the same verse is used to describe the actions of a wicked man: but who exactly was this man? It could of course have been Alexander Jannaeus, who, according to Josephus had 6,000 men killed in order to stem an uprising during the festival of Sukkot, and who later had 800 of his opponents massacred after slitting the throats of their wives and children in front of them (Ant. 13.372–373 and 380–383). From a chronological perspective, the identification of the man of Belial with Jannaeus would mean that the Apocryphon of Joshua was composed later than circa 88 B.C.E. However, the fact that this work is quoted in Testimonia (4Q175), a manuscript dating from the first quarter of the first century B.C.E., implies that the interval of time between the event and the redaction of both the Apocryphon and Testimonia, would have been very short indeed. Moreover, the issue of prophecy which is in the background of the text is more evocative of Hyrcanus I. Although Josephus does not mention that a massacre took place in Jerusalem during his reign, he does mention, in Judean War 1.67, that a rebellion broke out during his reign, leading to a civil war which Hyrcanus won. It seems likely that blood was spilled during this war, and that it happened in Jerusalem itself. It is thus not excluded that the pesher also alludes to Hyrcanus on this point. In summary, although it is not possible to positively identify the “man of Belial” mentioned in 4Q379 with John Hyrcanus, my literary analysis of the text and its scriptural references, and of the overlaps between these allusions and what we know about Hyrcanus and his sons from other sources, nevertheless suggests that this identification is probably correct. According to this hypothesis, the text casts the Hasmonean leader in a very negative light: although it is not possible to ascertain whether the text actually portrays him as an anti-Joshua, it certainly describes him as a bad political and military leader and a false prophet, who terrorized Judea’s neighbours and spilled the blood of his own people.

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4QTestimonia, a threefold critique of John Hyrcanus

The pesher on Joshua 6:26b found in 4Q379 is also quoted in another Qumran scroll, 4QTestimonia (4Q175).42 In this context, the passage in the Apocryphon may take on a different meaning and refer to other historical figures.43 As such, it is crucial to try and understand what function this quotation has in 4Q175. This text, written in a late Hasmonean script, is inscribed on a single parchment leaf, and is nearly intact – only a small portion of the text is missing at the start of lines 25 to 29. This document is an anthology of prophetic texts. It is composed of four quotations, or groups of quotations: 1) Deut 5:28b–29 (introduced with the following words: “YHWH spoke to Moses, saying”) followed by Deut 18:18–19 (lines 1–8), as in the Samaritan Pentateuch;44 2) Num 24:15–17 (lines 9–13); 3) Deut 33:8–11 (lines 14–20); 4) the excerpt from the Apocryphon of Joshua that we have already examined (4Q379 22 ii 7–15), with the quotation of Josh 6:26b (lines 21–30).45 Each quotation, or group of quotations, starts on a new line and constitutes a distinct

42 On 4Q175, see J. M. Allegro, “Further Messianic References in Qumran Literature,” JBL 75 (1956): 182–187; idem, DJD V. Qumrân Cave 4 I (4Q158–4Q186) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 57–60; J. Strugnell, “Notes en marge du volume V des ‘Discoveries in the Judean Desert of Jordan’,” RQ 7/2 [26] (1970): 225–229; J. A. Fitzmyer, “4QTestimonia and the New Testament,” in Essays on the Semitic Background of the New Testament (London: Chapman, 1971), 59–89; H. Eshel, “The Historical Background of the Pesher Interpreting Joshua’s Curse on the Rebuilder of Jericho,” RQ 15 (1991/1992): 409–420; idem, “A Note on a Recently Published Text: The ‘Joshua Apocryphon’,” in The Centrality of Jerusalem. Historical Perspectives (M. Poorthuis and Ch. Safrai, ed.; Kampen: Kok Pharos Publ. House, 1996), 89–93; idem, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 63–89; F. M. Cross, “Testimonia” in DSSCh 6B. Pesharim, Other Commentaries, and Related Documents (ed. J. H. Charlesworth; Tübingen–Louisville: Mohr Siebeck–Westminster J. Knox Press, 2002), 308–327; J. G. Campbell, The Exegetical Texts (London–New York: T&T Clark, 2004), 88–99; K. Berthelot, “4QTestimonia as a Polemic against the Prophetic Claims of John Hyrcanus,” in Prophecy after the Prophets? The Contribution of the Dead Sea Scrolls to the Understanding of Biblical and Extra-Biblical Prophecy (K. de Troyer and A. Lange ed.; Leuven, Peeters, 2009), 99–116. In his book and in the articles quoted above, Hanan Eshel develops the original but unconvincing argument that the relationship between these two works is the other way around, and that 4Q379 quotes 4Q175. 43 As Carol Newsom rightly observes: “Methodologically, it is extremely important to distinguish between what the author of the Testimonia thought the passage was referring to, and what the author of the Psalms may have had in mind” (“The ‘Psalms of Joshua’ from Qumran Cave 4,” 60). 44 The connection between Deut 5:28b–29 and Deut 18:18–19 is based on Deut 18:16– 17, which recalls the demands of the people in Deut 5:23–31, and ends with a formula which is almost identical with Deut 5:28b: “They are right in what they have said,” ‫היטיבו אשר דברו‬ (Deut 18:17b). In the Samaritan Pentateuch, these Deuteronomic verses are associated together and follow Exod 20:17. 45 According to Hanan Eshel, this paragraph was composed by the author of 4QTestimonia, and was later added to the Joshua Apocryphon. However, the fact that the rest of 4QTestimonia is an anthology of quotations contradicts this thesis. For a more detailed refutation of Hanan Eshel’s thesis, see Berthelot, “4QTestimonia as a Polemic”.

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paragraph; the scribe indicates the beginning of each new section with a sign akin to a hook. Here is a translation of the whole document, which is not very long: 1 And ****46 spoke to Moses, saying: I (or: you) have heard the sound of the words of 2 this people which they spoke to you. They have well (said) all that they have spoken. 3 Would that they were of such heart to fear me and to keep all of 4 my ordinances always that it may be well with them and with their children forever (Deut 5:28b–29). 5 I will raise up a prophet for them from among their own kindred like you and I will put my words 6 in his mouth, and he will speak to them all that I command him. If there is someone 7 who does not heed my words which the prophet speaks in my name, I myself 8 will call him to account (Deut 18:18–19). 9 And he uttered his verse and said: Oracle of Balaam, son of Beor, and oracle of the man 10 whose eye is true; oracle of one who hears the words of God, and knows (the) knowledge of the Most High; who 11 beholds (the) vision of Shadday, in a trance but with eye unveiled; what I see (is) not yet; 12 what I behold (is) not soon. A star comes forth from Jacob, and a sceptre arises from Israel; and it smashes through 13 the brows of Moab, and it demolishes all the sons of Seth (Num 24:15–17). 14 And of Levi he said:47 Give48 to Levi your Thummim, and your Ur49 to your faithful one whom 15 you tried at Massah, and (with whom) you contested at the Waters of Meribah;50 who said to his father 16 and to his mother: “I do not know you”; and his brothers he disregards, and his children he does not 17 know. For he has kept your command and guards your covenant.51 And they will teach your judgments to Jacob, 18 your law to Israel. They shall place incense in your nostril(s), and the whole offering on your altar. 19 Bless, ****, his substance, and favour the work of his hands. Smite the loins of his foes, and as for his enemies, 20 let them not rise again (Deut 33:8–11). 21 When Joshua finished praising and giving thanks with his praises, 22 then he said: “Cursed be the man who will rebuild this city. With his firstborn 23 he shall lay its foundation, and with his younger son he shall set up its gates (Josh 6:26b). Behold a cursed man, (a man of) Belial 24 shall arise, to become a [fo]wler’s sna[re] to his people, and terror to all his neighbours; and he shall arise 25 [and … shall a]ri[se … to be]come, the two of them, vessels of violence. And they shall again build 26 [this 46 The author writes four dots in the place of the four letters of the tetragram. The same convention is used again on line 19; it also occurs in other manuscripts, such as 1QS (VIII 14), which was copied by the same scribe as 4Q175. 47 The speaker is Moses, who blesses the twelve tribes before his death (Deut 33:1), and is speaking to God. 48 Although this is a plural imperative (attested in the LXX), it has the meaning of a singular imperative. 49 One would expect Urim. The use of the singular may be an error on the part of the scribe. 50 See Exod 17:1–7. 51 The text seems to be alluding to the episode of the golden calf, during which the Levi­ tes killed their compatriots and members of their own family (Exod 32:26–29).

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city and cons]truct its wall and towers to make a wicked fortress 27 [in the land and a great wickedness] in Israel, and its horrors in Ephraim and in Judah. 28 [… And they] shall produce pollution in the land and great strife among the children of 29 [Jacob; and they shall pour out blo]od like water on the rampart of Daughter Zion, and in the district of 30 […]  vacat Jerusalem. (trans. F. M. Cross, “Testimonia,” 313– 319, very slightly modified)

The four paragraphs that make up 4QTestimonia mention prophets and prophecies. The first quotes the greatest prophet in the history of Israel, Moses, prophesying the advent of another prophet similar to himself – a prophecy that was probably perceived to be connected with an eschatological time. The second paragraph quotes the oracle of the prophet Balaam,52 who foretold that a political and military leader would arise and combat the enemies of Israel (especially Moab and Edom) in Num 24:15–17. This figure is often identified with the king messiah whose advent was expected to coincide with the end of days.53 The third paragraph reproduces a blessing that Moses gave to the tribe of Levi, in which the prophet describes the Levites as the faithful priests of God and the Torah, praising their exceptional zeal for God during the episode of the golden calf (Exod 32:25–29). This blessing also had a prophetic dimension, in the sense that it determined who would teach Israel and serve YHWH at the altar; it also foretold that the enemies of Levi would be destroyed, never to rise again. In fact, the three texts corresponding to the three first paragraphs all predict the punishment of those who oppose the figures they mention. It is also interesting to note that there is only one other juxtaposition in the same passage of the three figures of the prophet, the king messiah and the priest messiah in the Qumran documents: this only other occurrence is found in 1QS IX 11, a manuscript that was copied by the very scribe who composed or copied 4Q175. As for the fourth paragraph of 4Q175, it quotes both Josh 6:26 – 52 Although Balaam is not a positive figure, since he collaborated with the enemies of Israel, the rabbinic tradition nevertheless considers him to have been a great prophet, the equivalent of Moses among the nations (see for example Sifre Deuteronomy 357 [ed. Finkelstein, 430]; Numbers Rabbah 14:20). However, the Septuagint casts Balaam in a harsher light than the MT: according to Gilles Dorival, the LXX “affirme nettement qu’il n’est pas un prophète pour Seigneur” (see G. Dorival, La Bible d’Alexandrie: 4. Les Nombres [Paris: Cerf, 1994], 103–108; the quotation is on p. 104). The manuscripts of Numbers found at Qumran do not reflect the evolution that led to this negative perception; instead, they broadly follow the MT, despite isolated variants. On this question, see F. García Martínez, “Balaam in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Prestige of the Pagan Prophet Balaam in Judaism, Early Christianity and Islam (ed. G. H. Van Kooten; Leiden: Brill, 2008), 71–82. It is in any case important to dissociate the figure of Balaam from his oracle, the veracity of which is not challenged by the redactor of 4Q175. 53 In CD VII 19–20, the “sceptre” in Balaam’s prophecy is interpreted as a reference to “the prince of the whole congregation.” On the oracle in Num 24:15–17, see H. Rouillard, La Péricope de Balaam (Nombres 22–24): la prose et les oracles (Paris: Gabalda, 1985), 415–474. Rouillard writes that “l’interprétation la plus clairement messianique [du sceptre] est celle des Targumim palestiniens” (p. 421). However, 4Q175 may be the oldest text attesting to this reading; see García Martínez, “Balaam in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” 76.

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i. e. ­Joshua’s curse against anyone who dares to rebuild Jericho – and the interpretation of that curse in 4Q379. As in the case of Moses’ blessing of Levi, this curse has a prophetic dimension. Let us not forget that Joshua, who was the assistant of Moses, was a prophet himself, as the literature of the Second Temple Period reminds us.54 Moreover, not only does this curse concern events in the future, but it was considered prophetic in the Bible itself (see 1 Kgs 16:34). We thus have a single leaf of parchment, on which have been copied four quotations, or groups of quotations, which are prophecies by Moses, Balaam and Joshua about figures or events in the future, or even at the end of days: a prophet similar to Moses; a political and military leader, who was probably the king messiah;55 a priest (or group of priests); and a wicked man and his sons, who spread terror and desolation around them. There is a stark contrast between the pernicious figure mentioned in the fourth paragraph and those of the three first sections.56 This must have been deliberate, and the most obvious interpretation of this contrast is that the “man of Belial” represents the antithesis of the figures that have been announced in the first three paragraphs.57 If he had merely been a political usurper, it would not have been necessary to refer to Moses’ blessing of Levi; if he had only been a wicked priest, it would not have made sense to refer to a prophet similar to Moses; finally, if he had merely been a false prophet, the reference to Deut 18 would have been enough. Instead, the juxtaposition of these four quota54 See for example Ben Sira 46:1; Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum 21:6; 24:3; Josephus, Ant. 4.165; 5.20. 55 This passage from Num 24:17 could in fact be understood as referring to two different characters, as in CD VII 19–20, where the “star” and the “sceptre” are respectively identified as the “interpreter of the Law” and the “prince of the whole congregation”. While the latter is certainly a reference to a king messiah, i. e. a political leader, in the community of the Damascus Document, the former could denote a sacerdotal figure, which may have been the teacher of righteousness. However, in the context of Numbers, the “star” refers to a royal figure (see Rouillard, La Péricope de Balaam, 423). Gilles Dorival observes that the fact that Bar Koseva was referred to as Bar Kokhba (“son of the star”) during the rebellion of 132–135 C.E. illustrates the messianic interpretation of this verse in second-century Judaism (Dorival, La Bible d’Alexandrie: 4. Les Nombres, 452). 56 It seems to me that David C. Mitchell misunderstands 4Q175, when he identifies the character alluded to in the fourth paragraph as an “eschatological Joshua” or “Warrior Messiah” (“The Fourth Deliverer. A Josephite Messiah in 4QTestimonia,” Biblica 86/4 [2005]: 545–553). The fourth character is a wicked man, not a messianic figure – or at the most, he is a false messiah. 57 As Hanan Eshel rightly emphasizes in The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 83. In view of the fact that the fourth paragraph refers to three wicked characters (a man and his two sons, according to Josh 6:26), it is also possible to consider that each one of these three characters is reproved in each one of the three previous paragraphs of 4Q175. This would mean that the text condemns John Hyrcanus for laying claim to the gift of prophecy, Aristobulus for taking the title of king, and Antigonus for claiming that he was a priest. In this case Jannaeus could arguably be seen to be a better fit than Antigonus, since the latter was not a high priest. However, the fact that all the Hasmoneans who became high priests were also political and military leaders makes such a reading rather unconvincing.

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tions suggests that the figure that is denounced in the fourth paragraph does not match any of the figures listed in the previous three paragraphs: he is neither a prophet of God, nor a legitimate political leader or king messiah (if this is how one should interpret the “star” and the “sceptre” mentioned in Num 24:17), nor a (high) priest who has received the blessing of God. At the same time, however, it seems likely that the text emphasizes these three figures, because the man who is condemned as a “man of Belial” purported to fill the shoes of all three of these figures. Now John Hyrcanus is the only person to have laid claim to the functions of a political and military leader, a priest and a prophet.58 This suggests that we can be more confident that the man of Belial can be identified as Hyrcanus in the context of 4Q175, than in 4Q379. Let us not forget, however, that the reference to Jer 23 in the pesher on Josh 6:26 already includes a triple condemnation of the political leaders, priests and prophets that God has rejected. These biblical allusions mean that these three functions are therefore already implicitly in the background of 4Q379. The scribe who composed 4QTestimonia probably understood these allusions. Moreover, the same scribe also copied 1QS, the beautiful manu­ script of the Rule of the Community found in cave 1 and the only Qumran text which mentions “the prophet and the anointed ones (the messiahs) of Aaron and Israel” (1QS IX 11). In the perspective of the Rule of the Community, and thus also of at least a part of the Essene movement, the same person could not be all at once a prophet, king messiah (or messiah of Israel) and priest messiah (or messiah of Aaron). 4Q175 is written in this perspective, and it is almost certain that the scribe who composed Testimonia understood John Hyrcanus to be the “man of Belial” mentioned in 4Q379.59 In this context, the attacks that the “man of Belial” is said to have conducted against his neighbours, especially in Moab, are very likely to be associated with Hyrcanus’ military campaigns, whose brutality could not be seen to represent the accomplishment of the prophecy described in Num 24:17.60 Finally, according to the texts in the first three paragraphs, the “man of Belial” would be punished if he tried to stand up to the leaders that God had chosen to lead the people of Israel in their respective roles as prophet, political and military leader, and high priest. 58 On Hyrcanus’ gift for prophecy, see Ant. 13.282–283 and 300; Tosefta Sotah 13:5. 59 This identification had already been suggested by André Dupont-Sommer (Les écrits esséniens découverts près de la mer Morte [2d edition; Paris: Payot, 1960], 332) and David Flusser (The Spiritual History of the Dead Sea Sect [Tel-Aviv: MOD Books, 1985], 73). See also the publications of Hanan Eshel, who writes for example that “The author of 4QTest apparently believed, in opposition to pro-Hasmonean circles, that John Hyrcanus I was not a prophet, a ruler or a high priest, similar to the Biblical figures described in the passages he cited” (“The Historical Background,” 418–419). See also Campbell, The Exegetical Texts, 97. 60 See also A. P. Jassen, “Power, Politics and Prophecy in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism,” in Divination, Politics, and Ancient Near Eastern Empires (A. Lenzi and J. Stökl, ed.; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014), 171–198 and esp. 193–194.

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The Essenes and prophecy On several occasions, Josephus mentions prophecies of the Essenes. According to Josephus, who describes three different “schools” (the Essenes, Sadducees and Pharisees), only the Essenes – some of them, at least – had the gift of prophecy.61 Let us examine John Hyrcanus’ claim that he had received the gift of prophecy in light of Josephus’ work, and in particular of his account of an Essene prophet called Judas, who was contemporary with Hyrcanus and his sons, and whose predictions had never proved erroneous or false according to Josephus (J.W. 1.78). One day Judas the Essene predicted that Antigonus, the son of Hyrcanus and the brother of Aristobulus I, would be assassinated that same day in Strato’s Tower, which he identified with the coastal city that would later be refounded by Herod under the name of Caesarea. Having caught a glimpse of Antigonus in the temple of Jerusalem, Judas was bemoaning the fact that he had uttered a false prophecy, when he learned that the son of Hyrcanus had indeed been murdered in an underground passage that was also known as Strato’s Tower, and was located either within Jerusalem itself or in its vicinity. His prophecy had in fact been accurate. Curiously, Josephus uses the words μάντευμα (oracle) and μάντις (diviner, seer),62 to describe the prophetic activity of Judas the Essene, implying that Judas resorted to techniques of divination, and was not on a par with the great figures of the biblical past, who drew their inspiration from God himself and spoke in his name. In the Septuagint, the words μάντις, μαντεία, μαντεύομαι, etc. have very negative connotations: they are used to refer to false prophecies and to the type of divination that is prohibited by Deut 18:10. Although Josephus’ use of language may not be quite as damning, since he praises the Essenes, he nevertheless does not put Judas’ techniques of divination on the same level as John Hyrcanus’ gift of “prophecy” (προφητεία). According to Josephus, God considered Hyrcanus worthy of three of the greatest privileges, the rule of the nation, the office of high-priest, and the gift of prophecy (προφητεία); for the Deity was with him and enabled him to foresee and foretell (προλέγειν) the future; so, for example, he foretold of his two elder sons that they would not remain masters of the state (Ant. 13.299–300; trans. Marcus, LCL, 377–379).

Like Judas, Hyrcanus is capable of predicting events in the future, including his sons’ tragic fate. However, his prediction is presented as a prophecy (προφητεία), unlike Judas’ prediction, which was described as a divination (μαντεία). Moreover, Josephus insists on the fact that Hyrcanus had received the gift of prophecy from God, who had judged him worthy of it. In another passage of Antiquities 61 See J.W. 1.78–80; 2.111–113; 2.159; Ant. 13.311–313; 15.373–379; 17.346–348. 62 In War, Josephus uses the words προαπαγγέλλω, προέρω, μάντευμα and μάντις; in Ant. 13.311–313, he uses the words προλέγω, μάντευμα and μάντις.

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(13.322), God himself appears to Hyrcanus in his sleep and answers his question (who should his successor be), conversing with him as he did with the prophets of the Bible. There is no doubt that, for Josephus, Hyrcanus was a more authentic prophet than Judas, and in fact his account of Judas’ prediction of Antigonus’ death may have a polemical dimension. Judas does not seem to have supported the descendants of Hyrcanus, which is hardly surprising since he was an Essene.63 Josephus does not breathe a word on the stance that Hyrcanus and his successors adopted towards the Essenes, even though he mentions that Hyrcanus initially had a cordial relationship with the Pharisees, and that he later rallied to the Sadducees. It seems fair to suppose that if the Essenes had supported the Hasmonean dynasty, Josephus would have mentioned it. His silence suggests instead that the Essenes probably kept their distance from the dynasty, or even perhaps that there was hostility between them. In any case, nothing in Josephus’ account contradicts the notion that the Essenes considered John Hyrcanus to be a false prophet.

A list of false prophets (4Q339)

Another Qumran scroll, 4Q339, corroborates the notion that the movement which produced the collection of manuscripts found at Qumran was interested in the question of false prophets.64 Although this text, which is written in Aramaic, may have been composed in a non-Essene context, the fact that it was discovered in cave 4 means that it was part of the collection of works put together by the Essenes. It lists the names of several false prophets “who arose in [Israel]”: 1 The [fa]lse prophets who arose in [Israel]: 2 Balaam [son of] Beor (Num 22–24);65 3 [the] old man from Bethel (1 Kgs 13:11–19); 4 [Zede]kiah son of Cha[na]anah (1 Kgs 22:11–12.24–25); 5 [Aha]b son of K[ol]iah (Jer 29:21–23); 6 [Zede]kiah son

63 On the whole, the Qumran sectarian manuscrits are hostile to the Hasmoneans.This means that at least some of the Essenes were opposed to the Hasmonean dynasty, if we accept that the Essenes can be identified as the authors of these texts. 64 We might also mention the passage of the Temple Scroll dedicated to the biblical law on false prophets (11Q19 LIV 8–18), although it does not diverge significantly from Deut 13:1–5. 4Q375 also mentions the case of the false prophet, and the procedure to follow in such cases. On this issue, see A. P. Jassen, Mediating the Divine: Prophecy and Revelation in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 299–308; idem, “Power, Politics and Prophecy in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism”. 65 This portrayal of Balaam as a false prophet is at odds with the credit given to his oracles in the Bible, which presents them as divine utterances (see Num 23:5.16 and 24:13 MT). The stance of the author of 4Q339 on the oracles of Balaam may have differed from that of other Second Temple Period Jews, who seem to have thought that they were authentic prophecies (see Josephus, Ant. 4.118). However, it seems more likely that Balaam is presented as a false prophet because of his opposition to Israel than because of his oracles themselves.

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of Ma[a]seiah (ibid.); 7 [Shemaiah the Ne]hlemite (Jer 29:24–32); 8 [Hananiah son of Az]ur, 9 [the prophet (who was) from Gibe]on (Jer 28:1).66

Although the text seems to end on line 9, it is difficult to ascertain that there was not originally another line on this parchment leaf. Elisha Qimron and Alexander Rofé have both suggested that the lacuna on line 9 may have originally read “[Yoh.anan son of Shim]‘on,” that is to say, “[John (Hyrcanus), son of Sim]on”.67 However, Elisha Qimron later rejected this reading, and proposed the reconstitution which we have indicated in the lines quoted above: ‫נביאה די מן גב]עון‬, “[the prophet (who was) from Gibe]on”. This reconstitution is based on the identification of “Hananiah, son of Azur” (line 8) and on the rest of Jer 28:1, “Hananiah, son of Azur, from Gibeon, spoke to me in the house of the Lord…” According to Qimron, line 9 continues line 8.68 We might counter Qimron’s argument with the observation that there is a noun in every single other line of the text, and that the reconstitution he proposes is at odds with what we can observe in the rest of the text. In other words, the alternative reconstitution of the text, according to which it should read “John (Hyrcanus) son of Simon” remains possible, if not preferable – suggesting that 4Q339 might be read as yet another account disputing Hyrcanus’ gift for prophecy.69 Even if this was not the case, it is interesting to observe that 66 See M. Broshi and A. Yardeni, “On Netinim and False Prophets,” Tarbiz 62/1 (1992): 45–54, esp. 50–54 (Heb.); E. Qimron, “About the Interpretation of the List of False Prophets,” Tarbiz 63/2 (1994): 273–275 (Heb.); M. Broshi and A. Yardeni, “4Q339,” in DJD XIX. Qumran Cave 4 XIV. Parabiblical Texts Part 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 77–79. The translation I reproduce here is that of Broshi and Yardeni in DJD XIX, 78 (very slightly modified). The original Aramaic text is as follows: ]‫יאי [ש]קרא ׄדי קמו ׄב[ישראל‬ ׄ ‫ נׄ ׄב‬1‫‏‬ ‫ ׄבלעם [בן] בעור‬2‎ ‫ [ה]ז֯ קן ׄמביתאל‬3‫‏‬‎ ‫[נ]ענׄ ה‬ ֯ ‫[צד]קיה בן ׄכ‬ ׄ 4‫‏‬‎ ‫[אחא]ב בן ק[ול]י֯ ׄה‬ ׄ 5‎ ‫[ע]שיה‬ ׄ ‫[צד]קיה בן ֯מ‬ ׄ ‫‏‬6‎ ‫הנ]ח ׄל ׄמי‬ ׄ ‫ [שמעיה‬7‎ ‫ [חנניה בן עז]וׄ ר‬8‎ ‫ [נביאה די מן גב]עון‬9‫‏‬‎ 67 See Qimron, “About the Interpretation of the List of False Prophets,” 275; A. Rofé, “The ‘List of False Prophets’ from Qumran: Two Riddles and Their Solution,” HaAretz 13.4.1994 (quoted by H. Eshel in The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 88). 68 See Qimron, “Again about the Interpretation of the List of False Prophets,” 508. 69 H. Eshel reaches the same conclusion in The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 89. See also G. G. Xeravits, “From the Forefathers to the ‘Angry Lion’: Qumran and the Hasmoneans,” in The Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology: Papers of the Second International Conference on the Deuterocanonical books, Pápa, Hungary, 9–11 June, 2005 (G. G. Xeravits and J. Zsengellér, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 211–221; and A. P. Jassen, who is positive that this is the case in “Power, Politics and Prophecy in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism,” 195–197.

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the names mentioned in this list all refer to Jeremiah’s opponents, highlighting yet again the significance of the Book of Jeremiah on the issue of false prophets. This is consistent with the many references to the passages on false prophets in the Book of Jeremiah in the interpretations of Josh 6:26 that we find in 4Q379 and 4Q175.

The fallibility of the prophet Joshua according to 4Q522

A certain number of scholars, including Emanuel Tov and Devorah Dimant, consider 4Q522 to be a third copy of the Apocryphon of Joshua; indeed, this is why it is sometimes referred to as “4QApocryphon of Joshua.”70 This cannot be ascertained, because there are no overlaps between these manuscripts. However, some of the words that have been preserved on various fragments suggest that 4Q522 can be associated at least in part with the conquest of Canaan: “the Canaanite,” frg. 3, line 3; “ ‘Emeq Akor,”71 frg. 3, line 4; and “the[se] nations (goyim),” frg. 5, line 3. Fragment 8, in particular, mentions the names of several tribes of Israel, in connection with various places, while fragments 9 i  + 10 list various localities in connection with a group that “hit the whole valley of Mizpah” (the reference to Mizpah is on line 3).72 As for fragment 9, col. ii, which is the most well-­preserved, it relates Joshua’s prophecy on David’s conquest of Jerusalem and Solomon’s construction of the temple: 1 […] (?) [… the children of Israel] 2 w[ill] not [come t]o[ Zi]on to install there the Tent of Mee[ting until] 3 the times [will pass], for behold, a son will be born to Jesse son of Perez son of Ju[dah and it will be he who will seize] 4 the rock of Zion73 and will dispossess from there 74 the Amorites from Jer[usalem and it will be his intention] 5 to build house to the Lord, God of Israel. Gold and silver, [brass and iron he will prepare,] 6 cedar-trees and junipers he will bring [from] Lebanon 70 On 4Q522, see É. Puech, “La pierre de Sion et l’autel des holocaustes d’après un manu­ scrit hébreu de la grotte 4 (4Q522),” RB 99/4 (1992): 676–696 and “522. 4QProphétie de Josué (4QapocrJosuéc?),” in DJD XXV. Qumrân Grotte 4. XVIII: Textes hébreux (4Q521–4Q528, 4Q576– 4Q579) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 39–74; E. Qimron, “Concerning ‘Joshua Cycles’ from Qumran,” Tarbiz 63/4 (1995): 503–508 (Heb.); E. Tov, “The Rewritten Book of Joshua as Found at Qumran and Masada,” in Biblical Perspectives. Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible (M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 233–256; D. Dimant, “The Apocryphon of Joshua–4Q522 9 ii: A Reappraisal,” in Emanuel. Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov (ed. S. M. Paul et al.; Leiden: Brill, 2003), 179–204. According to Puech, the manuscript dates from the late Hasmonean era, around the second third of the first century B.C.E. (see DJD XXV, 41). 71 See Josh 7:24.26; 15:7. 72 Émile Puech reads frg. 8 as follows: “1 [… Juda]h et Simé[o]n [la montagne et] le Nége[b…] 2 [… ne] ser[a pas (?)] à eux et Dan n’a pas battu lui aussi [le Cananéen (?)…] 3 […] et Issachar Bet Shan et Asher la [mer (?)…] 4 [… S]idon et Cab[u]l[…]” (DJD XXV, 47). 73 This phrase is not in the MT. It probably refers to “Mount Zion” (‫)‏הר ציון‬, that is, the place where the temple stood (see Ps 74:2; Isa 8:18; 18:7). 74 The word “all” was added in between the lines. Idem for the word “the” on line 5.

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to build it, and (or: but) his youngest son [he will built it, and Zadok] 7 will minister there, first of [the sons of Phin]eas [your first-born]75 and him He [will fav]our [and the Lord will bless him] 8 [from ab]ove, from the heaven[ly ab]ode[, for] “the friend of the Lo[rd] will dwell in safety and[ the Lord will be his protector all] 9 [the] days. With him He will dwell forever.”76 But now the Amorites are there and the Canaanit[es amidst us are] 10 dwelling,77 for they led me to sin because I did not seek th[e dec] ision of the [Urim and Thummim] 11 from you and they deceived me, and beh[o]ld I made them slaves of s[laves to Is]rae[l and to the altar of the Lord.]78 12 And now let us in[st]all the T[ent of Mee]ting far from the [Amorites and the Canaanites. And] 13 Eleazar [and Joshu]a [carried] the T[ent of Mee]ting from Beth[el to Shiloh…] 14 Joshua[… the comman]der of the army of the batt[le arrays of Israel …]. (trans. D. Dimant, “The Apocryphon of Joshua–4Q522 9 ii: A Reappraisal,” 185)

In spite of its fragmentary state, this manuscript provides us with a rather unusual re-reading of the events associated with the conquest of Canaan under Joshua.79 Various elements show that this text is based on this particular biblical episode: on lines 13 and 14, the names of Eleazar and Joshua are mentioned; on line 10, the words “they led me to sin” suggest that it is very likely that the first-person narrator is none other than Joshua, who was tricked by the Gibeonites (one of the peoples of Canaan). On the previous line, there is a reference to the Amorite and the Canaanite. The first part of the text (lines 1–9) is in fact a prophecy that Joshua made to Eleazar the priest, predicting that it would be David, the son of Jesse, who would take Zion (in accordance with 2 Sam 5:6–8), where he would want to build a house for YHWH, although this sanctuary would eventually be built by his youngest son, Solomon. According to 2 Sam 7:1–17, David planned to erect a temple to God, but it was his son Solomon who was chosen to build it. The second part of the text – from “But now” (‫ )ועתה‬on line 9 – is an account of what Joshua told Eleazar, in the context of their inability to reach Zion and place 75 This reconstitution is based on the fact that Joshua is addressing Eleazar. It is worth observing that there is no mention anywhere in 1 Kgs or in the parallel account of these events in 2 Chr of who was the first priest to serve in the temple that Solomon built; instead, these texts merely mention priests in general. 4Q522 fills this gap. 76 This is a paraphrase of Deut 33:12; we also find the expression of a similar idea in 2 Sam 7:13–15. 77 Devorah Dimant proposes this restoration of the text, based on the distinction she establishes between the Amorites (who were in fact the Jebusites, and lived in Jerusalem) and the Canaanites, whom she identifies in this particular context with the Gibeonites who tricked Joshua. After the Gibeonites entered into an alliance with the Hebrews, the two peoples became closely associated, and the Gibeonites lived in the midst of the Hebrews, since they were subjected to forced labour (see Josh 9:27). 78 See Josh 9:3–27, and esp. verse 14, in which we are told that Joshua and the men of Israel took the provisions of the Gibeonites (i. e., forged an alliance with them) but “did not ask direction from the Lord”. 79 Elisha Qimron was the first to suggest this in “Concerning ‘Joshua Cycles’ from Qumran”.

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the tent of meeting there. The text seeks to explain why the tent of meeting was not placed in Jerusalem as soon as Canaan was conquered. The author blames Joshua for having sinned by entering into an alliance with the Gibeonites, who were a people of Canaan but pretended to have come from afar (Josh 9). As we saw in Part I, the children of Israel were prohibited from forging such alliances (see Deut 7:1–5 for example). On line 10, Joshua admits that the Canaanites (i. e. the Gibeonites)80 led him astray (if, like Devorah Dimant, we read ‫החטיוני‬, “they led me to sin,” and not ‫החטיום‬, “they led them to sin,” as Émile Puech argues).81 The text then explains what Joshua’s sin was, with the words: […]‫‏שפט ֯ה‬ ֯ ]‫אשר לוא דרשתי ֯א[ת מ‬, “because I did not seek th[e dec]ision of…”; and at the start of the following line (line 11), we read: ‫ מאתכה והשלוני‬, “from you and they deceived me”. Considering the fact that it seems very likely that Joshua is addressing Eleazar the priest, the words “I did not seek th[e dec]ision of… from you” can only refer to the verdict of the Urim and the Thummim, a ritual performed by a priest in order to discover the will of God.82 This hypothesis is based in particular on the account, in Num 27:18–23, of “the decision of the Urim” in connection with both the appointment by Eleazar the priest of Joshua as the successor of Moses, and the military campaigns they would wage later on. God gave Moses the following commandment: Take Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom is the spirit, and lay your hand upon him; 19 have him stand before Eleazar the priest and all the congregation, and commission him in their sight. 20 You shall give him some of your authority, so that all the congregation of the Israelites may obey. 21 But he shall stand before Eleazar the priest, who shall inquire for him by the decision of the Urim before the Lord; at his word (‫ )על פיו‬they shall go out, and at his word they shall come in, both he and all the Israelites with him, the whole congregation. (Num 27:18–21)

The masculine singular possessive suffix (“his word,” lit. “his mouth”) may be associated with either “the decision of the Urim,” or with Eleazar, the interpreter of the oracle. In both cases, this account of the investiture of Joshua, on whom is bestowed some of the authority of Moses himself, simultaneously establishes his dependence on Eleazar in military matters, at least when it came to the decision to launch and put an end to a military campaign. This is all the more significant in view of the fact that, as “a man in whom is the spirit” (i. e. a prophet) Joshua might have claimed that he knew the will of God, and as such did not need to resort to the pronouncements of the Urim and the Thummim. According to 1 Samuel 28:6, the will of God could be made manifest in one of the following three ways: in dreams, 80 It is clear that these are the Gibeonites, because Joshua is directly held to account, and because on line 11 we find allusions to deceit and slavery. See Josh 9:21.23.27. 81 Puech, DJD XXV, 55; Dimant, “The Apocryphon of Joshua–4Q522 9 ii: A Reappraisal,” 183. 82 On the ritual of the Urim and the Thummim in the Bible and in Second Temple Judaism, see Batsch, La guerre et les rites de guerre dans le judaïsme du deuxième Temple (chapter 7).

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through the Urim and the Thummim, and through the prophets. Numbers 27 can thus be read as an attempt by the priestly establishment to limit the power of political and military leaders, even if they had (or claimed to have) divine inspiration. There is no mention anywhere of the Urim, and of the procedure set out in Numbers 27 in the Book of Joshua, including in chapter 9, which describes J­ oshua’s sinful alliance with the Gibeonites. However, it is possible to read Josh 9:14 in this light: “So the (Israelites) partook of their provisions (those of the Gibeonites), and did not ask direction from the Lord (‫”)ואת פי יהוה ‏לא שאלו‬.‎83 Certainly, ‎4Q522 clearly associates Num 27 with Josh 9. In the Qumran manuscript, Joshua’s biggest sin is the fact that he did not ask Eleazar to consult the Urim in order to discover the will of God (on the question of whether or not to wage war on the Gibeonites). In other words, 4Q522 emphasizes the dependence of the political and military leadership on the priestly establishment. This not only implies the separation of powers, but the subordination of the political leaders to the priests, and must also be understood in light of the hierarchical relationship between these two powers within the Qumran community (whether or not 4Q522 was a sectarian document). In the sectarian texts found at Qumran, the priests were dominant; indeed, the messiah of Israel himself was subordinated to the messiah of Aaron.84 4Q522 is written in a perspective which has its roots in Numbers 27, but also reflects the stance of the sectarian manuscripts, even if it does not use their specific terminology. As such, 4Q522 may be yet another illustration of the condemnations generated by Hyrcanus’ pretension to accumulate powers that should have been kept separate, and by his claim to have the gift of prophecy. One wonders why the author of this text focused on Joshua. Did he merely use the example of Joshua in order to reaffirm the importance of the separation of powers, and the pre-eminence of sacerdotal power over political power, even when a political leader had received the gift of prophecy? Or did he also wish to suggest that the leader of Israel should not take unilateral decisions but should instead defer to priests, especially when it came to military interventions? In other words, did the author of 4Q522 seek to criticize John Hyrcanus’ approach to military campaigns? This possibility cannot be excluded, even if the attempt to explore the text’s implicit meanings could quickly lead us onto thin ice, especially since the composition of the text cannot be dated with any certainty. It is nevertheless worth observing that Josephus does not only refer to Hyrcanus’ prophetic gift in the context of his succession, but also of the military victory of his sons as they waged war against Antiochus Cyzicenus, in Samaria. The fact that he mentions Hyrcanus’ gift for prophecy in the context of military campaigns is not incidental. This association (which seems to come from a tradition that was not invented by Josephus, and that we also find in the rabbinic texts) sought to legitimate the campaigns of Hyrcanus, by suggesting that they had 83 84

Cf. Dimant, “The Apocryphon of Joshua–4Q522 9 ii: A Reappraisal,” 194. See 1QSa II 11–21.

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been approved by God, as both the oracle and the victory showed. In spite of these Hasmonean claims, it is nevertheless possible that some Judeans considered that the wars of John Hyrcanus were not so much holy and divinely-ordained campaigns, as the manifestation of his hybris and greed. Finally, it is important to emphasize that if we accept Emanuel Tov and Devorah Dimant’s suggestion that 4Q522 was a third copy of the Apocryphon of Joshua, it would make sense – in light of my analysis of 4Q379 – to think that 4Q522 also included polemical passages on John Hyrcanus.

The rules of war in the Temple Scroll

The question of whether it is legitimate for a political and military ruler to decide to go to war is not only debated in 4Q522 9 ii, but also in the Temple Scroll, which is a rewriting of various laws of the Pentateuch. The rewriting of the laws of Deut 17:14–20 is followed by substantial additions in columns LVII and LVIII. These additions, which are found in no other known biblical text,85 include the following excerpt, at the end of column LVIII: 18 He (the king) shall not go to battle prior to coming to the high priest who shall inquire for him about the judgment of the Urim 19 and the Thummim. It is at his word that the king will go out to battle and it is at his word that he will return – the king and all the Israelites who are 20 with him. He must not go out on his own accord86 prior to inquiring of the judgment of the Urim 21 and the Thummim. He shall succeed in all his ways because he went out by the judgment that LIX 1 […]. (my translation)

The line “It is at his word (the word of the high priest) that the king will go out to battle and it is at his word that he will return – the king and all the Israelites who are with him” (‫ )על פיהו יצא ועל פיהו יבוא הוא וכול בני ישראל אש ‏ר אתו‬clearly draws on Num 27:21b (“at his word they shall go out, and at his word they shall come in, both he and all the Israelites with him, the whole congregation” [‫‏על פיו יצאו ועל פיו‬ ‫)]יבאו הוא וכל בני ישראל אתו וכל העדה‬. Similarly, the phrase “the judgment of the Urim and the Thummim” is based on Num 27:21a. In turn, the sentence “He shall succeed in all his ways” surely comes from Josh 1:8, a verse in which Moses’ successor is exhorted to meditate night and day on the book of the law, in order to succeed in his ways. The formulation of lines 18–21 thus implicitly connects the figure of the king with that of Joshua. Moreover, like the Apocryphon of Joshua, the Temple Scroll presupposes that there are two types of power – royal (or political and military in the case of the 85 According to Lawrence Schiffman, this section of the text is “the most extensive example of original composition in the entire scroll” (The Courtyards of the House of the Lord: Studies on the Temple Scroll [Leiden: Brill, 2008], 488). 86 Literally: “based on the counsel of his heart”.

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Apocryphon) and sacerdotal – and that the offices of king and priest must not be held conjointly by the same person. As Lawrence Schiffman rightly emphasizes, whereas in Deuteronomy God gives Israel the possibility of having a monarchy, in the Temple Scroll this type of government is presented as an obligation, probably in order to ensure the separation of the powers of the priests and the king.87 In this text, the power of the king must be subordinated to that of the priests: indeed, according to the passage which I have quoted above, this subordination plays a key role in the success of the wars waged by the king (line 21). Other passages specify the modalities of the control that the priests should exercise on the activities of the sovereign. Thus, according to 11Q19  LVII 11–15, the priests and Levites should constitute two thirds of the council whose advice the king should seek and follow: Twelve 12 princes of his people (shall be) with him, (as well as) twelve priests and twelve Levites; 13 they shall sit together, with him, for judgment 14 and for (the enforcement of) the Law. He shall not consider himself (lit.: his heart shall not be elevated) above them; he shall do nothing 15 without their counsel.88 (my translation)

The Temple Scroll clearly exhibits a certain level of anxiety in the face of the arbitrariness of the power of the king (or the political and military ruler), in particular when it comes to declarations of war (“He must not go out on his own accord” [LVIII 20]). The basis for this concern would be difficult to pinpoint before the Hasmonean dynasty came into power, because no Judean leader is known to have launched wars between the third and the start of the second centuries B.C.E. The war mentioned in 11Q19 LVIII 18–21 – which calls for the submission of the king to the judgment of the Urim and the Thummim – is an optional war. The case of defensive wars is discussed in the first part of column LVIII, lines 3–11: 3 When the king shall hear about a nation or a people [that] seeks to steal anything that belongs 4 to Israel, he shall send (instructions) to the commanders of thousands and to the commanders of hundreds appointed in the cities of 5 Israel, and they shall 87 Schiffman, The Courtyards of the House of the Lord, 490–491. 88 Other contemporary or later Judean sources mention that the king or the political and military leader who was effectively in charge had a council (although the Bible does not mention this point): the letter that is included in the text of 2 Macc 1:10 is written in the name of the Jews of Jerusalem and Judea, the council (γερουσία), and Judas; the letter that Jonathan addressed to the Spartans in 1 Maccabees is written by the high priest, the council of the people (ἡ γερουσία τοῦ ἔθνους), the priests, and the rest of the people (1 Macc 12:6); the Book of Judith also mentions on several occasions that the high priest had such a council (γερουσία) at his side (Jdt 4:8 and 15:8). When Flavius Josephus introduces the Deuteronomic laws on the king, he specifies that the king should not take any decision without prior consultation with the high priest and members of the council (γερουσία) (Ant. 4.224), and he mentions that there was such a council in Judea at the time it came under the control of the Seleucids (Ant. 12.138); in the letter that Antiochus III addresses to Ptolemy, this γερουσία is distinct from the priests, scribes, etc. (Ant. 12.142). Finally, several Hasmonean coins bear the words h. ever ha-Yehudim, which can be understood to refer either to the people as a whole, or to a body of representatives.

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send with him one-tenth of the people, to go out for war with him against 6 their enemies, and they shall depart with him. But if a mighty people comes to the land of Israel, they shall send 7 one-fifth of the warriors with him. And if (it is) a king, with chariots, cavalry, and a mighty army, 8 they shall send one-third of the warriors with him, (whereas) the two (other) thirds shall guard 9 their cities and their border, lest an (enemy) troop penetrates their land. 10 And if the war intensifies against him (the king of Israel), they shall send him half of the people, men 11 of the army, but the (other) half of the people shall not depart from their cities. vacat If they defeat 12 their enemies, they shall crush them and put them to the sword, take their spoils and give 13 to the king one-tenth, to the priests one part per thousand, and to the Levites one percent 14 of the total, and they shall distribute the rest, one half to those who participated in the war and one half to their brothers 15 who remained in the cities. (my translation)

This text invites several observations. Firstly, it is not necessary to consult the Urim in the case of the defensive war that is described here. This scenario differs markedly from that of the optional war, which is presented on lines 18–21 as ultimately at the discretion of the priests. This distinction overlaps in part with the distinction that the rabbinic texts make between a “permitted war” (‫ת‏רשות‬ ‫מלחמ ‏‬, milh emet reshut, also translated as “discretionary war”) and a “mandatory war” ․ (‫מלחמת מצוה‏‬, milh ․emet mitzvah, literally “war of the commandment” or “commanded war”). According to Mishnah Sanhedrin 2:4, the king had to seek the advice of the 71 members of his council (beit din) before being able to wage a “permitted war.”89 Although the type of counter-power advocated by the rabbis was not the same as in the Temple Scroll, they were motivated by a similar desire to keep the power of the king in check. However, the Mishnah does not set a clear limit on the loot that the king could claim for himself: his people had to give him all the spoils of war, and he took the first pick. A “mandatory war,” on the other hand, was a war that God had ordered Israel to wage against the Canaanites, the Amalekites, etc. In Mishnah Sotah 8:7, we are first told that the majority view is that, in the case of a “mandatory war,” the exemptions listed in Deut 20:5–8 (allowing those who have just built a house, gotten married, etc. not to go to war) are not applicable, whereas they are in the case of a “permitted war”. However, R. Yehudah goes on to present a different view, according to which these exemptions are applicable in the case of a “mandatory war,” but not in the case of an “obligatory war” (‫מלחמת‬ ‫חובה‏‬, milh ․emet ․hovah).90 R. Yohanan argues in the Babylonian Talmud (Sotah 44b) that the Sages are all speaking about the same thing, even if their terminology differs. However, according to Raba (ibid.), there were in fact three types of wars. Firstly, there were the wars that Joshua waged in order to conquer Canaan, which were unanimously considered to be obligatory (milh ․emet ․hovah). Secondly, there were the wars that David fought in order to extend the territory of his kingdom, 89 90

See also Mishnah Sanhedrin 1:5. See also Tosefta Sotah 7:24.

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which were unanimously seen to be “permitted wars” (milh ․emet reshut). Thirdly, there were the defensive wars that Israel waged against the nations in order to prevent their attacks: these wars could be either “permitted wars” (milh ․emet reshut) or “mandatory wars” (milh ․emet mitzvah). The key point for the rabbis was that when a war was a milh ․emet mitzvah, this dispensed those who waged it from having to obey other commandments (mitzvot), but this was not the case if that war was considered to be a milh ․emet reshut. The key point for us, is that some rabbis thought that there were three different types of war, and that they considered the wars waged by king David to have been “permitted wars” or optional wars. This suggests that it is very likely that they would have classed the Hasmonean wars of conquest in the category of permitted (i. e. optional) wars.91 Although this talmudic text is a very late work, it nevertheless suggests that the wars that David – and a fortiori the Hasmoneans – waged were not perceived as a fulfilment of the commandment to conquer Canaan, which was classified as an “obligatory war.” This observation also suggests that from a rabbinic perspective – or at least from Raba’s perspective – the commandment to conquer the land only concerned the period of Joshua, and, as such, was only valid for a limited period of time. This comparison between the rabbinic legislation and the rules set out in the Temple Scroll is all the more interesting when we consider that there is no mention, in the Temple Scroll’s discussion of the “Law of the King,” of any obligatory wars, including those that God ordered against the Canaanites and the Amalekites in the past. Instead, the author of the Temple Scroll only considers two scenarios: foreign attacks on the territory of Israel, on the one hand, and, on the other, the campaigns that Israel wages outside its territory against its foreign enemies, which are described as optional wars calling for the advice of the Urim. It might be tempting to go as far as to suggest that for the author of the Temple Scroll, wars were no longer ordained by God, i. e. he did not believe in the relevance of the “obligatory war” in his own lifetime.92 In any case, this tends to corroborate the conclusion that I reached in Part I, when I argued that in the second and first centuries B.C.E., the Judeans did not consider that the populations who were settled on the promised land (in whatever territorial version) were Canaanites and that they had to strive to drive them away or eradicate them as soon as possible. 91 According to Sifre Deuteronomy 199 (ed. Finkelstein, 237), the wars waged in Deut 20:10– 15 against cities located outside of Canaan were “permitted wars,” milh. emet reshut. 92 11Q19 LXII 5–16 is a fairly faithful account of the prescriptions of Deuteronomy 20 for the wars against the cities of the Canaanites and the towns located outside of the promised land; this section of the Temple Scroll barely diverges from the biblical text. Whereas the enumeration of these laws in the Temple Scroll makes sense in the context of the discursive and literary framework of this work – since it presents itself as a new Pentateuch dictated to Moses by God –, their presence does not say anything significant about the author’s perception of the wars that were waged in his lifetime. It is his long additions to the “Law of the King” that give us a sense of his own point of view. See also Schiffman, The Courtyards of the House of the Lord, 505–506 and 516–517.

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Édouard Will and Claude Orrieux, who were both highly aware of the importance of the Temple Scroll for the history of the Hasmonean state, have rightly emphasized that both the first part of column LVIII, and the passage on the composition of the royal guard in LVII 2–11, imply that the Judean army could not under any circumstances include mercenaries. All its soldiers had to come from the people of Israel.93 Lawrence Shiffman, who also notes this aspect of the text, approaches it in light of the use of mercenaries by the Hasmoneans: In the case of the military guard [in the Temple Scroll], the men are to be representatives of the people of Israel, men of the highest possible standards. This is certainly aimed at a revision of the Hasmonean approach, followed from the time of John Hyrcanus on, of employing foreign mercenaries. (Schiffman, The Courtyards of the House of the Lord, 496)

This is a convincing interpretation, even if it is possible to think that the author of the Temple Scroll may also have been reacting more widely to the Hellenistic practices of his age. The Temple Scroll also includes laws on the spoils of war. In column LVI, the text already modifies Deut 17:16, when it states that the king must not return the people to Egypt to wage war there in order to acquire horses, as well as silver and gold (in Deut 17:16, the only motive mentioned for the return to Egypt is the acquisition of horses, and war is not involved). Lawrence Schiffman observes that “While it is true that the Tobiads also profited greatly from their political activity, Hyrcanus’ time would provide a likely setting for the repetition of the Torah’s legislation against the king’s sending his people to war to increase his own wealth.”94 Predatory wars are explicitly condemned on several occasions. Thus, although the members of the royal guard have to be warriors, they nevertheless have to fear God and “hate unjust gain” (‫( )שונא‏י בצע‬LVII 8–9). Similarly, the king himself “shall not take a bribe to pervert a righteous judgment, he shall not covet a field, a vineyard, or any good or house or anything desirable in Israel, and he shall not steal” (LVII 19–20), unlike such wicked kings of Israel as Ahab, who seized Naboth’s vineyard for himself (1 Kgs 21:1–16). Indeed, as we have seen earlier, the king was not supposed to take more than one-tenth of the spoils of war. In a word, the Temple Scroll attempts to curb the appetite for riches of the leaders of Israel. Like the Apocryphon of Joshua, the Temple Scroll belongs to what Devorah Dimant describes as an intermediary class of manuscripts, sharing a certain number of characteristics with sectarian texts, but not their terminological specificities. It is possible that, as a result of their confrontation with the Hasmonean dynasty, the

93 Will and Orrieux, Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos, 208. 94 Schiffman, The Courtyards of the House of the Lord, 493.

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sacerdotal circles which gave rise to, or were close to, the Essene movement,95 fostered critical reflections on the exercise of political and military power. Such reflections may have begun to develop as early as during the lifetime of Judas, Jonathan and Simon,96 since the Temple Scroll is conventionally dated to the middle of the second century B.C.E., even it is not possible to date it with any certainty. Manuscript 4Q524, which is either a different recension of the Temple Scroll than that attested in 11Q19, or one of the sources of the text found in this last manuscript, dates from the third quarter of the second century B.C.E. (i. e. the years 150–125 B.C.E.) according to Émile Puech.97 In contrast, 11Q19 and 11Q20 are more recent, and only date back to the Herodian period. The fact that the history of the redaction of the Temple Scroll is likely to have been complex has led some ­scholars, such as Lawrence Schiffman, to suggest that the section of that work which is dedicated to the law of war, and which places the king under the authority of the priests, may have originally come from another document, and been integrated into the Temple Scroll by the redactor responsible for its final version (as known through 11Q19). Certainly, it seems possible to suppose that the section of that document focusing on the king may date from a later period than its first redaction (which may have been more focused on the rules governing the cult) and only date from the end of the second century B.C.E., i. e. the period when John Hyrcanus or his sons waged their campaigns.98 It is true that there are a few overlaps between 4Q524 6–13 1–3 and the end of column LIX in 11Q19, which mentions God’s promise to let one of the sons of the king succeed him on the throne, provided the king observes his commandments. However, this does not necessarily mean that the developments in LVII and LVIII of 11Q19 were already part of 4Q524. Although it remains difficult to ascertain the date of the laws pertaining to the king in the Temple Scroll, I agree with Édouard Will and Claude Orrieux that it makes sense to consider some of the recommendations of the Temple Scroll in the context of the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus and his successors.99

95 These texts may have been produced in succession, or be distinct but contemporaneous productions. 96 For a similar position, see F. García Martínez, “Temple Scroll,” in The Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (L. H. Schiffman and J. C. VanderKam, ed.; London: Oxford University Press, 2000), 2:927–933 (esp. 932). 97 É. Puech, DJD XXV, 85–114. 98 See Schiffman, The Courtyards of the House of the Lord, 503–504 and 506. James H. Charlesworth also dates it to circa 100 B.C.E. (“The Date of Jubilees and of the Temple Scroll,” SBL Seminar Papers 24 [1985]: 197–202). 99 Will and Orrieux, Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos, 206–210.

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1.1.3 Alexander Jannaeus The times of wickedness in 4Q390 In The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, Hanan Eshel convincingly suggests that 4Q390, which was published as the “Apocryphon of Jeremiah Ce,” is a critique of the Hasmoneans.100 According to Devorah Dimant, the manuscript dates from between 30 and 20 B.C.E., and the language used by its author shows that the text was produced in close contact with the Qumran circles.101 Hanan Eshel argues that the text returns to the prophecy of Dan 9:24 on the “seventy weeks decreed for your people and your holy city, to finish the transgression, to put an end to sin, and to atone for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness (etc.)” – a prophecy which dates the profanation of the temple at the hands of Antiochus IV to the 62d week (with each week amounting to seven years). Still according to Hanan Eshel, 4Q390 breaks down the figure of 490 (70 × 7) years into 70 years of Babylonian exile (frg. 1, lines 2–3), 343 years of living in the land after the return from exile, seven years of tribulations linked to Antiochus IV (frg. 2 i, line 4), and 70 years of Hasmonean rule (frg. 2 i, line 6). If we date the beginning of the seven years of tribulations to 167 B.C.E., the Hasmonean period – a divided era, according to frg. 2 i, line 6 – starts in 160 and ends in 90 B.C.E., around the time of the crisis which led to the war between Alexander Jannaeus and D ­ emetrius III. The author may have witnessed this crisis, which is presented as the moment when the dynasty started to fall apart, and when God’s punishment was set into motion, heralding a just order. However, it is also possible that he composed this work long before this period, and that the figure of 70 years is not based on any real chronology of events, but on the indications provided in Daniel and on the fact that the number 70 r­ ­epresents a totality in Jewish tradition. Although the link between this Qumran text and the period of Jannaeus remains hypothetical, it is clearly hostile to Mattathias’ descendants. Speaking of the 70 years which correspond to the period when the Hasmoneans were in power, fragment 2, col. i, mentions that the law of God was cast aside, in favour of a quest for “wealth and profit” (line 8), while thieving and oppression flourished (line 9), and priests committed acts of violence (line 10). The Pesher on Isaiah (a) (4Q161)

The Pesharim, sectarian writings which resonate with echoes of the events that occurred in the first century B.C.E., are the most likely source of information on the reign of Alexander Jannaeus. According to some commentators, the Pesher on 100 See D. Dimant, “4Q390. 4QApocryphon of Jeremiah Ce,” in DJD XXX. Qumran Cave 4. XXI. Parabiblical Texts, part 4: Pseudo-Prophetic Texts (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2001), 235– 253; Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 22–27 and 131. 101 Dimant, ibid., 236–237.

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Isaiah (a) alludes to the campaign that Ptolemy Lathyrus launched in Cœle-Syria in 103 B.C.E., as well as to his sudden retreat, an event which saved Jerusalem from coming under attack from his troops and seems to have been interpreted as the result of God’s intervention.102 The Pesher comments on Isa 10:28–32, which mentions a lightning war in the vicinity of Jerusalem : He has come to Aiath; he has passed through Migron, at Michmash he stores his baggage. 29 They have crossed over the pass, at Geba they lodge for the night; Ramah trembles, Gibeah of Saul has fled. 30 Cry aloud, O daughter Gallim! Listen, O Laishah! Answer her, O Anathoth! 31 Madmenah is in flight, the inhabitants of Gebim flee for safety. 32 This very day he will halt at Nob, he will shake his fist at the mount of daughter Zion, the hill of Jerusalem.

In the Book of Isaiah, these lines are associated with the Assyrian invasion that threatened the kingdom of Judah and Jerusalem. A few verses beforehand, the prophet had exhorted the people of Zion not to fear the Assyrians (v. 24). Later on the book reports Sennacherib’s attempt to seize Jerusalem under king Hezekiah, and God’s intervention, which destroyed his army and forced him to turn back (Isa 37 and 2 Kgs 19). The Books of Isaiah and Kings both treat the defeat of the Assyrians as a miracle. In contrast, this is how the Pesher comments on this episode from the Book of Isaiah: 26 [The interpretation of the] matter with regard to the latter days concerns the coming of […] 27 […] when he goes up from the Valley of Acco to fight against Phil[istia103…] 28 […] and there is none like it, and among all the cities of […] 29 and even up to the boundary of Jerusalem[…]. (4Q161 frg. 2–6 ii 26–29)104

The mention in these lines of Acco-Ptolemais recalls Ptolemy Lathyrus’ siege of Ptolemais, while the reference to “the boundary of Jerusalem” on line 29 may allude to the fact that he stopped his campaign against Jannaeus before reaching

102 See J. D. Amoussine, “A propos de l’interprétation de 4Q161 (fragments 5–6 et 8),” RQ 8 [31] (1974): 381–392; idem, “The Reflection of Historical Events of the First Century B.C. in Qumran Commentaries (4Q161; 4Q169; 4Q166),” HUCA 48 (1977): 123–152; Charlesworth, The Pesharim and Qumran History, 102–103; Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 97–100. 103 This is how John Strugnell deciphers the letter before the lacuna: he reads it as a pe, as opposed to a yod, and argues that it is a reference to Philistia (“Notes en marge du volume V,” 184); he is followed by Horgan. However, other scholars reconstitute this word as “J[erusalem”. Thus, following Allegro, Amoussine argues in favour of a yod before the lacuna (“A propos de l’interprétation de 4Q161 (fragments 5–6 et 8),” 381). 104 Trans. M. P. Horgan, in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek Texts with English Translations. Volume 6B: Pesharim, Other Commentaries, and Related Documents (ed. J. H. Charlesworth et al.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 91.

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the holy city.105 The unhoped-for interruption of Ptolemy’s march on the Judean capital may have been interpreted in light of Sennacherib’s unexpected decision to leave Judea a few centuries earlier, and thus seen as evidence of a miracle similar to the one that had taken place in the biblical past. Although the text does not refer to Alexander Jannaeus, the fact that God was seen to have saved the Judeans from Ptolemy Lathyrus may nevertheless have cast a positive glow on the Hasmonean king, by setting this episode in parallel with the biblical account of the miracle associated with Hezekias’ supplication. As such, the Pesher on Isaiah (a) could be classed among those manuscripts which present Alexander Jannaeus in a favourable light. However, the reference to “the latter days (or: the end of times)” (‫)‏אחרית הימים‬ on line 26 suggests that the author of the Pesher has an eschatological reading of the prophecy of Isaiah. It is of course not excluded that the author believed that the reign of Jannaeus corresponded with the end of times. However, it is also not excluded that the Pesher may be describing an eschatological enemy landing at Acco before marching on Jerusalem. Taken together, fragments 8–10 repeatedly mention the “Kittim,” who have been interpreted as the inhabitants of Cyprus (that is, in fact, the troops of Ptolemy Lathyrus, who came from Cyprus) because Ptolemy is identified earlier as the enemy. Nevertheless, in an eschatological perspective, the Kittim could also be seen to be the Romans, who would eventually be defeated by Israel (see frg. 8–10 iii, line 12). The Pesher then comments on Isa 11:1–5, a passage describing the shoot that shall come out of the stump of Jesse, anticipating the king messiah (although the word “messiah” is not mentioned in these biblical verses). The author of the Pesher makes a reference to “David” (4Q161 8–10 iii 22) in a clear bid to discus the future king that shall be descended from David and “shall rise at the en[d of days” (ibid.). This king will enjoy the support of God (line 23), and will sit on a “th]rone of glory” (line 24), wearing a “h[oly] crown” (line 24); he will govern the nations (line 25) and judge all the peoples with his sword (line 26). Finally, the author of the Pesher interprets Isa 11:3b (“He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear”) to mean that the king will heed the advice of the priests, who are described on line 29 as “renowned priests” (lit. priests of the name): “as they teach him, so will he judge, and according to their command […]” (line 28). In other words, these lines portray an eschatological king who is not a priest (since he is descended from David) and who willingly bows to the authority of the priests. This figure is radically at odds with Alexander Jannaeus, who cumulated the titles of king and high priest. 105 Commenting on the reading of this passage as “against Phil[istia,” Hanan Eshel writes that “If we accept the connection of the Pesher on Isaiah to Ptolemy Lathyrus’ campaign, it seems that the mention of “Phil[istia]” refers to the first stage of Ptolemy Lathyrus’ campaign, when Zoilus, the Ruler of Dor, and the people of Gaza approached him to request his help to fight Alexander Jannaeus’ army and end its corrupt influence on the country (Ant. 13.334)” (The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 98).

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As such, it seems difficult to argue that the first passage of the Pesher on Isaiah (a) is meant to cast Jannaeus in a positive light. If the lines on the march from Acco do allude to Ptolemy Lathyrus, as opposed to an eschatological figure, then this means that God saved Jerusalem despite Jannaeus’ wickedness, out of love for his people.

4Q448: for or against king Jonathan?

4Q448, which is entitled “Apocryphal Psalm and Prayer” in Discoveries in the Judean Desert, but is better known as “Prayer for the Welfare of King Jonathan,” consists of a single fragment from the beginning of the scroll, with a column on the top section of the leaf (col. A) and two columns, slightly further to the side than the first, on the lower section of the leaf (col. B and C).106 Column B is complete but very narrow, with only one to three words on each line. Column A consists of a prayer similar to Ps 154, an apocryphal psalm which takes a slightly different form in another Qumran manuscript, 11QPsa, and which is transmitted in Syriac in the Peshitta. The psalm we find in 4Q448 is shorter, but the editors, Hanan and Esther Eshel and Ada Yardeni, have reconstituted it using Psalm 154 – later on, in an article published after the editio princeps, they adopted several decipherments proposed by André Lemaire.107 According to Hanan and Esther Eshel, “the unit related to Ps 154 that appears in 4Q448 is the original nucleus of this hymn, which was later expanded to the form documented in 11QPsa and in the Syriac manu106 See E. Eshel, H. Eshel and A. Yardeni, “4Q448,” in DJD XI. Qumran Cave 4. VI: Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 403–425. This text has fostered heated debates ever since it was first published in 1991 in Tarbiz, and no consensus has yet been found. See D. Flusser, “Some Notes about the Prayer for the Welfare of King Jonathan,” Tarbiz 61 (1992): 297–300 (Heb.); E. Qimron, “Concerning the Blessing over King Jonathan,” Tarbiz 61 (1992): 565–567 (Heb.); E. Eshel, H. Eshel and A. Yardeni, “A Qumran Composition Containing Part of Ps. 154 and a Prayer for the Welfare of King Jonathan and his Kingdom,” IEJ 42 (1992): 199–229; G. Vermes, “The So-Called King Jonathan Fragment [4Q448],” JJS 44/2 (1993): 294–300; P. Alexander, “A Note on the Syntax of 4Q448,” JJS 44/2 (1993): 301–302; A. I. Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source for the History of Jewish Sectarianism in the Second Temple Period,” DSD 2/1 (1995): 14–57 (esp. 48–51); É. Puech, “Jonathan le Prêtre Impie et les débuts de la communauté de Qumrân: 4QJonathan (4Q523) et 4QPsAp (4Q448)”; A. Lemaire, “Le Roi Jonathan à Qoumrân (4Q448, B-C),” in Qoumrân et les Manuscrits de la mer Morte (ed. E.-M. Laperrousaz; Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1997), 57–70; E. Main, “For King Jonathan or Against? The Use of the Bible in 4Q448,” in Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretations of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (M. E. Stone and E. G. Chazon, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1998), 113–135; A. Lemaire, “Attestation textuelle et critique littéraire: 4Q448 col. A et Psalm 154,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery (ed. L. H. Schiffman et al.; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000), 12–18; E. Eshel and H. Eshel, “4Q448, Psalm 154 (Syriac), Sirach 48:20, and 4QpIsa(a),” JBL 119/4 (2000): 645–659; A. Steudel, “4Q448–The Lost Beginning of MMT?,” in From 4QMMT to Resurrection (ed. F. García Martínez; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 247–263; Vermes, “Historiographical Elements in the Qumran Writings,” 136; Xeravits, “From the Forefathers to the ‘Angry Lion’,” 213–217. 107 See Lemaire, “Attestation textuelle et critique littéraire”; E. Eshel and H. Eshel, “4Q448, Psalm 154 (Syriac), Sirach 48:20, and 4QpIsa(a)”.

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scripts”.108 Column B, which seems to continue in column C (not much of which is left) is also a prayer. The relationship between the prayer inscribed in column A and the prayer that is written in columns B and C is debated. Although the hypothetical nature of the reconstitutions suggested between square brackets means that they are subject to caution, this gives us the following text:109 Column A110 1 Halleluyah! Psal[m], a song of […] 2 You loved as a fat[her…] 3 You ruled over[…] 4 vacat […] 5 They were terrified of Senna[cherib and cried out: With a loud voice glorify God, in the congregation] 6 of the many procl[aim His majesty. Bind your souls to the good ones] 7 and to the pure ones, [to glorify the Most High. Behold the eyes of the Lord are compassionate over the good ones,] 8 and upon those who glorify Him He [increases His mercy. From an evil time will He deliver their soul. Who redeems] 9 the humble from the hand of adversaries, [and He delivers the perfect from the power of the wicked. He who desires] 10 His habitation in Zion, ch[ooses Jerusalem forever] Column B111 1 Rise up,112 O Holy One, 2 against King Jonathan!113 3 But (concerning) the congregation of your people 4 Israel 5 who (are) in the four 6 corners (lit. winds) of heaven, 7 let them all be (at) peace; 8 and upon Your kingdom 9 may Your name be blessed. Column C 1 By your love for […] 2 in the day and until the evening […] 3 to approach and to be […] 4 remember them for a blessing […] 5 for/upon your name, which is called 108 E. Eshel and H. Eshel, “4Q448, Psalm 154 (Syriac), Sirach 48:20, and 4QpIsa(a),” 648. 109 There is relatively widespread agreement on the text of col. B, with the notable exception of Émile Puech, who for example reads a waw at the start of line 9, unlike other epigraphers (see “Jonathan le Prêtre Impie,” 257). 110 I follow the restitution proposed by E. Eshel and H. Eshel in “4Q448, Psalm 154 (Syriac), Sirach 48:20, and 4QpIsa(a),” 646. My translation is based on theirs, but differs from it in columns B and C. 111 This column has prompted several translations (see my discussion, infra). The Hebrew text published in DJD is: ‫ עור קדש‬1‫‏‏‬ ‫ על יוׄ נתן המלכ‬2‫‏‬‎ ‫ וכל קהל עמכ‬3‫‏‬‎ ‎‫ישר ׄאל‬ ׄ 4‫‏‬ ‫בא ׄר ׄבע‬ ׄ ‫ אשר‬5‫‏‬‎ ‫‏רוחות שמים‬6‎ ‫ יהוׄ שלום כלם‬7‎ ‫‏וׄ ׄעל ממלכתכ‬‎8 ‫ יׄ ׄתברכ שמכ‬9 112 Or: “Awake”. 113 Esther Eshel, Hanan Eshel and Ada Yardeni translate: “Keep guard, O Holy One, over King Jonathan”.

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[…] 6 kingdom, to be blessed[…] 7 for the day of war114 […] 8 to Kin[g] Jonathan115 […] 9 […]

The fact that column B is syntactically ambiguous has given rise to several suggestions. First of all, the words ‫‘( עור‏ קדש‬ur qadosh), “Rise up, O Holy One,” on line 1 could be read as ‫‘( עי ‏ר קדש‬ir qodesh), “city of holiness” or “holy city,” and ­represent the end of the sentence in the column which is located in the first part of the page (for example, in apposition with “Jerusalem,” on line 10 of column A).116 This would mean that they are not connected with the words located on the next line, ‫על יונתן המלכ‬, “against (‘al) King Jonathan”. The construction ‫‘( על‬al) + X + postposed verb is precisely the construction used on lines 8–9: ‫ועל ממלכתכ יתברכ‬ ‫שמכ‬, “and upon (‘al) Your kingdom 9 may Your name be blessed”. However, the possessive suffix of the second person singular on lines 3 (“your people”), 8 (“your kingdom”) and 9 (“your name”), which refers to God, implies that the divinity was necessarily named or invoked at the start of the text. If we understand the words ‫‘( עור קדש‬ur qadosh/‘ir qodesh) to refer to the holy city, then we have to assume that God was named in column A, and that column B cannot be separated from it. However, the link between these two columns – particularly the notion that the text of column B continues that of column A – is problematic: the handwriting is not the same, and the two lower columns may be later additions.117 It is thus preferable to focus on the syntax of column B in isolation, which implies that on line 1 we have the verb ‫‘( עור‬ur) in the imperative, “awake” or “rise up.” The second word may be read as a name for God, Qadosh, “Holy.” In the Bible, the verb ‫ עור‬is often followed with the preposition ‫‘( על‬al), in the sense of “to awake / to rise up against.” One of the verses that are especially close to 4Q448 is Zech 13:7, in which God, speaking to his sword, the agent of his justice, says: “Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, against the man who is my associate, says the Lord of hosts. Strike the shepherd, that the sheep may be scattered; I will turn my hand against the little ones (‫חרב עורי על רעי ועל גבר עמיתי נאם יהוה צבאות הך את הרעה ותפוצין‬ ‫)הצאן והשבתי ידי על הצערים‬.”118 The verbs ‫‘( עו ‏ר על‬ur ‘al) or ‫ם על‬ ‫( קו ‏‬qum ‘al) (in the sense of “to arise against,” in both cases) are generally used in the negative con114 Émile Puech reads this as: “et pour l’achèvement de ses/leurs guerres […]” (“Jonathan le Prêtre Impie,” 257). 115 Émile Puech reads this as: “Jonathan et tout (?) ton peuple[…]” (ibid.). 116 See Alexander, “A Note on the Syntax of 4Q448”. 117 André Lemaire writes that he does not understand why the editors hesitate to take a stand on this question; according to him, “cette différence de main, combinée à la disposition des colonnes, révèle presque certainement que le texte des colonnes B et C n’est pas la continuation du texte de la colonne A” (“Le roi Jonathan,” 59 and 58, note 9). See also Lemaire, “Attestation textuelle et critique littéraire,” 12–13. 118 Emmanuelle Main emphasizes the significance of this verse for an understanding of 4Q448; see “For King Jonathan or Against?,” 115–118.

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text of a condemnation and punishment; this is also the case in CD XIX 7 (which quotes Zech 13:7) and 4Q176 19–20 3–4. Even though they understand ‫‘( עור‬ur) to be a verb, some commentators (including the editors of the text) consider that in 4Q448 this word is used in a positive sense. As a result, they translate this phrase as: “Keep guard, O Holy One, over King Jonathan and (over) the congregation of your people Israel”.119 They mention the precedent set by Job 8:6, “if you are pure and upright, surely then he will rouse himself for you (‫”)יעיר עליך‬. However, this is a case of the exception that confirms the rule, especially if we consider that this text comes from a work with exceptionally challenging syntax.120 In other words, when the editors argue that the usual (negative) meaning of ‫‘( עור על‬ur ‘al) does not make sense in the context of 4Q448, the problem is more likely to be that they have the wrong end of the stick because their assumptions about the context and interpretation of these lines inflect their perception of their syntax.121 Moreover, contrary to what Émile Puech writes, we do not have to consider that there is a parallel between the first ‘al on line 2 and that of line 8 (we-‘al).122 The second ‘al depends on the verb ‫יׄ ׄתברכ‬ (“may…be blessed”) on line 9 and is independent from the first.123 In other words, the translation “Rise up against” is better founded, from a grammatical and syntactic point of view, than “Keep guard over.”124 But which Jonathan is this about? Two possibilities have been mentioned: Jonathan, the brother of Judas Maccabeus, and Alexander Jannaeus, whose Hebrew name was Jonathan: in the coins which he minted, for example, this name is followed either with the title of high priest, or with that of king.125 There are thus four types of interpretation possible, depending on whether we understand the text to be favourable, or hostile, to Jonathan Maccabeus or Alexander Jannaeus. Geza Vermes and Émile Puech, followed more recently by Annette Steudel, interpret 4Q448 as referring positively to Jonathan, the brother of Judas. As Vermes 119 This is also the solution that Hanan Eshel favours in The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, chapter 5. 120 The other example cited by the editors is Deut 32:11: “As an eagle stirs up its nest, and hovers over its young…” However, this example does not apply since in this case the preposition ‫‘( על‬al) is associated with the verb ‫רחף‬, “to hover.” See DJD IX, 421–422. 121 As Geza Xeravits rightly emphasizes in “From the Forefathers to the ‘Angry Lion’,” 215–216. 122 Puech, “Jonathan le prêtre impie,” 253. 123 This is thus not an enumeration of all the subjects calling for God’s mercy, with each one introduced by ‫‘( על‬al), as in some Jewish liturgical works (the editors mention this p ­ ossibility in DJD IX, 410–412). 124 As Lemaire, Main and Xeravits rightly emphasize, as well as D. J. Harrington and J. Strugnell before them in “Qumran Cave 4 Texts: A New Publication,” JBL 112/3 (1993): 491– 499 (esp. 498–499). 125 See Y. Meshorer, Ancient Jewish Coinage (Dix Hills: Amphora Books, 1982), 1:118–121; Schwentzel, Juifs et Nabatéens, 88. 

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wrote, “Prior to 152 BCE, he was celebrated as the liberator of Israel, defender of the Jewish faith and, last but not least, as the conqueror and rebuilder of Jerusalem.”126 The majority view in the history of scholarship since the 1950s (including Geza Vermes, Josef Milik and others) is that the Essene movement distanced itself from Jonathan, calling him a “wicked priest,” after 152, i. e. the year when he became a high priest. After a period of doubt in the early 1990s, it is now widely accepted that the words in column B of line 2 should be read “king Jonathan.”127 In theory this would exclude the identification of “Jonathan” in 4Q448 with the brother of Judas, because the latter never became a king. However, if we think that 4Q448 is a prayer written by a supporter of Jonathan, it is possible to imagine that the author’s enthusiastic endorsement of Jonathan may have led him to refer to him as a king, even if this was not strictly the case. After all, Jonathan was a political and military leader, and as such filled the function of a king. Moreover, we saw in Part I that the author of 1 Maccabees regularly set the high deeds of Judas and his brothers in parallel with those of royal figures such as Saul, David and Solomon. In 4QMMT, which is often associated with the early days of the Essene movement and the period of Jonathan, the speakers address a leader who can only have been a high priest in the context of the period, and exhort him to imitate the example set by David and the kings of Israel (4QMMT C 23–32).128 As such, it is possible to conjecture that some of Jonathan’s supporters could have described him as a king.129 126 Vermes, “The So-Called King Jonathan Fragment [4Q448],” 299. He rightly observes that Jerusalem is a central theme in 4Q448 as a whole. 127 Philip Alexander doubted this, for example; see “A Note on the Syntax of 4Q448,” p. 302, note 1. 128 Hence Annette Steudel’s suggestion that 4Q448 is the beginning of 4QMMT: “As polite as 4QMMT, 4Q448 might well be a captatio benevolentiae in the incipit of the letter MMT – acknowledging Jonathan as political ruler over Israel” (“4Q448 – The Lost Beginning of MMT?,” 262). However, she argues that Jonathan was already a high priest, which makes less sense. In any case, she admits that the relationship between 4Q448 and 4QMMT remains hypothetical. 129 Daniel Schwartz also observes, in connection with 2 Macc 2:17, that “… in popular usage it seems to have been common to use the term ‘king’ generally when speaking about rulers who actually bore other titles; note esp. Josephus, Antiquities 14.157, 165, 172; 18.93; Matthew 2:22 and 14:9” (2 Maccabees, 168). The case of the Itureans is interesting on this issue: Ptolemy’s son Lysanias, a tetrarch and high priest, minted coins bearing the royal insigna of the diadema, leading Christian-Georges Schwentzel to write: “La présence du diadèma peut étonner, puisque Lysanias, pas plus que Ptolémée, ne porta le titre royal, mais la fonction de grand prêtre pouvait justifier, pour la population locale, le port de cet insigne. Conscient du prestige du prince, Dion Cassius, Historiae Romanae, XLIX, 32, 15, qualifie, d’ailleurs, Lysanias de roi des Ituréens. Le titre de basileus ne lui fut cependant jamais octroyé par Antoine. Mais, en raison de ses prérogatives religieuses, le souverain pouvait se comporter en véritable monarque local, doué d’une forte autorité sur l’ensemble des Ituréens” (C.-G. Schwentzel, “La propagande des princes de Chalcis d’après les monnaies,” ZDPV 125/1 [2009]: 64–75; the quotation is on p. 69).

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However, this reference to a king becomes much more problematic if we consider that ‫‘( עור על‬ur ‘al) has negative connotations, as I suggested above. What was conceivable coming from an admirer, is no longer sustainable coming from a detractor. This means that the figure in question had to have officially had the title of king, and indeed that this title served to identify him. In other words, the “king Jonathan” in question can only have been Alexander Jannaeus. The text is thus likely to have been a prayer expressing hostility towards Alexander Jannaeus, as Daniel Harrington and John Strugnell already suggested in 1993,130 followed by André Lemaire, Emmanuelle Main and Geza Xeravits. Can we take the interpretation of 4Q448 further? According to Esther and Hanan Eshel, who argue in favour of giving the words ‫‘( עור על‬ur ‘al) in line 1 of column B positive connotations, the composition of this prayer in support of king Jonathan (Jannaeus) took place in the context of Ptolemy Lathyrus’ aborted campaign against Jerusalem. In their article “4Q448, Psalm 154 (Syriac), Sirach 48:20, and 4QpIsa(a),” they argue that the quotation of Ps 154 in the first column must have included the words “They were terrified of Senna[cherib and cried out” (col. A, line 5). (I have reproduced this hypothetical proposition in the translation I have provided above).131 According to them, from very early on (or certainly in the period when 4Q448 was composed), this psalm was attributed to Hezekias and associated with the memory of the time when the Assyrian threat was lifted. As in the case of the Pesher on Isaiah (a) which I discussed above, they consider that this psalm gave rise to a new reading in light of the events of 103 B.C.E., i. e. Ptolemy Lathyrus’ expedition in Cœle-Syria.132 As for the prayer in columns B and C, they read it as a kind of pesher on Ps 154, and argue that it gives thanks for the miracle which put an end to the threat that was hanging over Jerusalem. However, Geza Xeravits has highlighted the weaknesses of this thesis. Firstly, the text of columns B and C does not bear any resemblance to a pesher: although a pesher may comment on a psalm or prayer, it cannot a priori take the form of a prayer; more importantly, this thesis implies that there should be an exegetical correspondence between the elements of Ps 154 and the rest of the text, which is not the case. Secondly, the connection established between Ps 154, Hezekias an Sennacherib is only attested in the manuscripts of the Peshitta, as opposed to 11QPsa, where the words restituted by Hanan and Esther Eshel are not found.133 As such, the reconstruction of the word “Senna[cherib” on line 5 is merely hypothetical. Moreover, even if we did decide to adopt this reconstruction, this would not be enough to justify the view that 4Q448 is a prayer in support of king Jonathan. If we interpret 130 See “Qumran Cave 4 Texts: A New Publication”. 131 André Lemaire, who was the first to make this suggestion, emphasizes that it remains hypothetical (“Attestation textuelle et critique littéraire,” 16). 132 See also Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 113. 133 See Xeravits, “From the Forefathers to the ‘Angry Lion’,” 216–217.

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4Q161 – the Pesher on Isaiah (a) – in connection with the events that took place under the rule of Jannaeus, then this text shows that it was possible to re-read a biblical text in light of the events that occurred under Jannaeus, and to believe that Ptolemy’s retreat was a case of divine intervention, without supporting the Hasmonean king. Let us not forget that, according to Josephus, Ptolemy’s campaign was a direct consequence of Jannaeus’ expedition against Ptolemais. Those who disapproved of Jannaeus’ expedition must have felt that God had showed them his mercy by saving them from the consequences of their monarch’s hubristic behaviour. It is thus perfectly possible to think that 4Q448 may associate a psalm linked with the memory of the Assyrian siege (or indeed any other psalm celebrating God’s past interventions in favour of Israel) with a prayer asking God to put an end to Jannaeus’ wars and restore the peace in Israel.134 In fact, the word “war” is also mentioned on line 7 of column C, and is followed with a second reference to “king Jonathan” (or to “Jonathan” only, according to Émile Puech) on line 8: however, in the absence of any context, this could have either positive or negative connotations. Even if we did interpret the prayer in 4Q448 as casting Jannaeus in a positive light, it would be difficult to argue that this text praises the king’s wars. Instead, the text is at the very most a prayer of thanks for the deliverance of the people of Israel, as opposed to a prayer of thanks for the conquest of new territories and their annexation to Judea. In reality, even if one thinks that ‘ur ‘al has positive connotations, it is only possible, based on the few words that have been preserved, to conclude that the text asks God to grant peace to the king and Israel as a whole, and to bless his kingdom (that is, the kingdom of God; it is not possible to say whether this phrase refers to Jannaeus’ kingdom, in the geographical sense of the term, or to all the territories on which the children of Israel were settled, or even to the world as a whole). Considering the fact that Jannaeus was solely responsible for taking the decision to wage his campaigns, we might spontaneously be tempted to think that those who prayed for peace were also asking God to put an end to their leader’s desire to make new conquests. Yet, according to the editors, The scroll’s mention of Israel being dispersed in the four directions of heaven (Column B, lines 3–6) might also be a piece of Hasmonean propaganda, for pro-Hasmonean authors often stressed that the cities captured by the Hasmoneans were not foreign country land or gentile property, but Israel’s inheritance. (Eshel, Eshel and Yardeni, “A Qumran Composition,” 218)

134 Emmanuelle Main also proposes this interpretation, but is prudent on this issue, because of the fragmentary state of the text (“For King Jonathan or Against?,” 122).

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However, the sources that they summon in support of this assertion – 1 Macc 15:30– 34 and Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 14.74–77 – do not say anything of the sort.135 Moreover, the phrase “in the four directions [lit. winds] of heaven” denotes the diaspora as a whole, and as such does not refer only to the Jews who were settled in the areas that Hyrcanus and Jannaeus had conquered. Emmanuelle Main rightly observes that in 4Q448, it is Israel as a whole (“the congregation of your people Israel”) that is described as being dispersed, and thus in exile. In her study of the biblical uses of the phrase “the four winds of heaven” (or its abbreviated form “four winds”),136 she notes that Zech 2:10, in particular, mentions the Israelites that God has exiled “like the four winds of heaven” – as does 4Q448.137 The oracle of Zech 2:10–17 predicts the return of the exiles and God’s renewed commitment to Judah and Jerusalem. It is thus possible to think that this reading implicitly underpins 4Q448, although this allusion would only be implicit,138 and would concern the Babylonian and Egyptian Jews at least as much as, if not more than, the Jews of the Transjordan.139 However, the sources on the Hasmonean wars of conquest do not intimate that the conquests of John Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus were meant to gather the exiled Jews on the land of Israel (the only intervention to be presented in this light is the “rescue operation” described in 1 Maccabees 5). In other words, the editors’ interpretation can hardly be considered satisfactory. Finally, the fact that other Qumran texts severely criticize Alexander Jannaeus (see infra) is yet another argument in favour of reading “Rise up, O Holy One, against king Jonathan” (Jannaeus). Those who argue that the prayer expresses support for Jannaeus contend that 4Q448 came from outside the community, and that this explains why its point of view diverges from that of the sectarian sources. However, this is a rather problematic assertion, considering that the Qumran scrolls do not include any other text from outside the community which is in direct contradiction with the point of view of the sectarian writings. Although the fact that the text is poorly preserved means that uncertainties remain, the picture painted by 135 On 1 Macc 15:30–34, se Part I, § 6; on Ant. 14.74–77 (or rather 14.74–78), see Part II, § 1.2. 136 See Zech 2:10 and 6:5; Dan 8:8 and 11:4; and for the short form of this phrase, see Ezek 37:9; 1 Chr 9:24. 137 Main, “For King Jonathan or Against?,” 115–118. 138 Compare with 2 Macc 1:27 (“Gather in our diaspora, emancipate those who are enslaved among the Gentiles…”; trans. D. R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 130); Psalms of Solomon 8:28 (“Gather together the dispersion of Israel with mercy and goodness”; trans. K. Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord: A Study of the Psalms of Solomon’s Historical Background and Social Setting [Leiden: Brill, 2004], 57). 139 If we had to establish a (hypothetical) link between the prayer in column B and Ptolemy Lathyrus’ expedition, it would be possible to suggest that the reference to the diaspora refers more specifically to the Egyptian Jews, who were caught in the conflict between Cleopatra, Ptolemy and Jannaeus (and this, even if the Jewish general Chelkias and Ananias were not at the head of Cleopatra’s army; see Part II, § 2.3).

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the linguistic and historical elements which we do have leads me to read 4Q448 as yet another polemical work against the Hasmoneans – and more particularly, Alexander Jannaeus, whose wars it may actually criticize.

The Pesher on Nahum

Commentators almost unanimously agree that Pesher Nahum (4Q169)140 refers to the reign of Jannaeus, and in particular to the military campaign that Demetrius III waged against the Judean king in 89/88 B.C.E. No other pesher mentions the proper names of known historical figures. The handwriting dates from the start of the Herodian period, and the historical allusions to the fall of Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans found in Pesher Nahum suggest that it was probably composed after 63 B.C.E. The work’s key passage, from the point of view of my argument, is located in fragments 3+4, which comment on Nah 2:12–14: What became of the lions’ den, the cave of the young lions, where the lion goes, and the lion’s cubs, with no one to disturb them? 13 The lion has torn enough for his cubs and strangled prey for his lionesses; he has filled his caves with prey and his dens with torn flesh. 14 Behold, I am against you, says the Lord of hosts, and I will burn her chariots in smoke, and the sword shall devour your young lions; I will cut off your prey from the earth, and the voice of your messengers shall be heard no more.

The Pesher comments this passage as follows (the biblical text is in italics):141 1 [Its interpretation concerns Jerusalem, which has become] a dwelling for the wicked ones of the nations.142 Where the lion went to enter, the lion’s cub […] 2 [and no one to disturb (Nah 2:12b). Its interpretation concerns Deme]trius, King of Greece, who sought to enter Jerusalem on the advice of the Seekers-After-Smooth-Things, 3 [… but God did not deliver it] into the hands of the kings of Greece from Antiochus until the rise of the rulers of the Kittim; but afterwards […] will be trampled 4 […] The lion tears enough for his cubs and strangles prey for his lionesses. He has torn143 (Nah 2:13a) 5 [… Its interpretation] concerns the Lion of Wrath, who would strike

140 On Pesher Nahum, see J. M. Allegro, DJD V. Qumrân Cave 4 I (4Q158–4Q186) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 37–42, and John Strugnell’s notes in “Notes en marge du volume V,” 204–210; M. P. Horgan, “Nahum Pesher,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek Texts with English Translations. Volume 6B: Pesharim, Other Commentaries, and Related Documents, 144–156; S. Berrin, The Pesher Nahum Scroll from Qumran: An Exegetical Study of 4Q169 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 87–88, 104–109, 126–127; Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 117–131. 141 Horgan’s translation of the biblical quotations differs slightly from that of the NRSV, even when there is no difference between 4Q169 and the MT. 142 This part of the Pesher certainly bears on Nah 2:12a, “the lions’ den,” or “the cave of the young lions”. 143 The MT does not have “he has torn” (‫ )טרף‬after “lionesses”.

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with his great ones and the men of his council, 6 [… And it fills up] its cave144 [with prey] and its den145 with torn flesh (Nah 2:13b). vacat Its interpretation concerns the Lion of Wrath 7 […]146 against the Seekers-After-Smooth-Things; he would hang men up alive 8 […]in Israel before, for regarding one hanged alive upon the tree [it] reads: Behold I am against [you] 9 say[s YHWH of hosts: And I shall burn up yo]ur [abundance147 in smoke,] and the sword will devour your lions. And [I] shall cut off its [p]rey [from the land,] 10 and [the voice of your messengers] will no [longer be heard (Nah 2:14). vacat ] Its [inter]pretation: your abundance, they are the detachments of his army th[at (are) in Jerusale]m;148 and his lions, they are 11 his great ones […] and his prey, that is the wealth that the [prie]sts of Jerusalem have amas[sed,] which 12 they will give [… E]phraim, Israel will be given […] (col. 2) 1 and his messengers are his envoys, whose voice will no longer be heard by the nations (…). (4Q169 frg. 3–4 i 1–ii 1)149

There is a wealth of information to be gleaned from this extract. The mention on line 2 of “Deme]trius, King of Greece, who sought to enter Jerusalem on the advice of the Seekers-After-Smooth-Things,” can only be a reference to Jannaeus’ nemesis, Demetrius III, since no other Demetrius marched on Jerusalem, especially not “on the advice” of a group of Judeans. In the pesharim, the name “Seekers-After-Smooth-Things” refers to the Pharisees (who are also sometimes called “Ephraim”). As such, the pesher unexpectedly corroborates Flavius Josephus’ claim that Jannaeus’ opponents (the majority of whom were Pharisees) turned to Deme­ trius III, asking him to rid them of the Hasmonean.150 On line 3, the sentence “into the hands of the kings of Greece from Antiochus until the rise of the rulers of the Kittim; but afterwards […] will be trampled,” provides us with several more indications. Thus, “will be trampled” (‫ )תרמס‬necessarily refers to the city of Jerusalem, the only possible antecedent to a feminine third person singular. As a result, the suggestion that the sentence should be reconstituted as “God did not deliver it (Jerusalem)] into the hands of the kings of Greece” (in contrast with the fate it

144 This noun is in the singular here, and the form of the masculine singular possessive suffix differs from the MT. 145 This noun is also in the singular here, whereas it is in the plural in the MT. Cf. Berrin, The Pesher Nahum Scroll from Qumran, 53. 146 Yigal Yadin has argued that this should be reconstituted as “judgement of ]death” (‫משפט‬ ‫ ;)]מות‏‬see Yadin, “Pesher Nahum Re-considered,” IEJ 21 (1971): 1–12 (esp. 11). 147 Not “her chariots” like in the MT; see line 10. 148 The decipherment and the reconstitution of the words “th[at (are) in Jerusale]m” are very hypothetical. 149 Trans. M. P. Horgan, “Nahum Pesher,” 149–151, slightly modified. 150 See L. H. Schiffman, “Pharisees and Sadducees in Pesher Nahum,” in Minh. ah le-Nah. um: Biblical and Other Studies Presented to Nahum M. Sarna in Honor of His 70th Birthday (M. Z. Brettler and M. A. Fishbane, ed.; Sheffield: JSOT, 1993), 272–290. On the name “Ephraim,” see Berrin, The Pesher Nahum Scroll from Qumran, 115–118.

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would meet later, when it would be trampled) is certainly correct.151 If we identify the “Antiochus” mentioned on line 3 with Antiochus VII (rather than Antiochus IV) and “the rulers of the Kittim” with Pompey’s Roman army, the pesher can be said to make a perfectly accurate claim: Jerusalem was not taken once between the siege of Antiochus Sidetes and that of Pompey. Insofar as Antiochus VII did not destroy the city but only tore down its walls and raised the siege after entering into an agreement with John Hyrcanus, it may even be possible to argue that the city remained intact in the interval between its profanation by Antiochus IV and its fall at the hands of the Romans in 63 B.C.E. (when Pompey entered the temple). It is extremely rare to find overlaps of this kind between the Qumran scrolls and what we know of that period from Josephus and other historians.152 On line 1, the text mentions a place that has become “a dwelling for the wicked ones of the nations,” which may be a reference to the mercenaries hired by the Hasmoneans, and in particular by Jannaeus, since its interpretation of Nah 2:12– 14 mentions specific events that occurred during his reign.153 This interpretation should be read in light of the text’s explicit reference on line 10 to “the detachments of his army” (the army of the “Lion of Wrath”), which are the “abundance” (or the “chariots” in the MT) that God will annihilate. Finally, on line 11, the riches accumulated in Jerusalem are mentioned; in the Pesher these riches re­present the “prey” of the lion, who, according to Nah 2:14 will be deprived of it by God. The phrase “the [prie]sts of Jerusalem” certainly refers to the Hasmoneans, and perhaps also to the priests who had rallied to them. This passage clearly echoes Josephus’ references to the wealth accumulated by the Hasmoneans, even if in this case their wealth has negative connotations. According to the author of Pesher 151 See Berrin, The Pesher Nahum Scroll from Qumran, 48. 152 Some scholars have highlighted another striking parallel between the mention, in the pesher, of men “hanged alive upon the tree” (in connection with the revenge of the Lion of Wrath) and Josephus’ account of the death by apotympanismos (tying them to a pole or plank) that Jannaeus probably inflicted on his opponents (see J. Mélèze Modrzejewski, “Alexandre Jannée et les pharisiens,” forthcoming in the proceedings of a study day on Les Juifs et le pouvoir politique dans l’Antiquité gréco-romaine). Some historians, including Joseph Klausner and Joshua Efron, reject Josephus’ account because they consider that it is based on unreliable anti-Hasmonean sources; see J. Klausner, “Judah Aristobulus and Jannaeus Alexander,” in The World History of the Jewish People: The Hellenistic Age (ed. A. Schalit; London: Allen, 1972), 234; Efron, Studies on the Hasmonean Period, 173. The “Lion of Wrath” is also described raising his hand to strike Ephraim in another pesher, on the Book of Hosea, but the allusion is less clear (4Q167 2 2). See M. Kister, “Biblical Phrases and Hidden Biblical Interpretations and Pesharim,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research (D. Dimant and U. Rappaport, ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1992), 27–39. 153 On the Hasmoneans’ mercenaries, see Part II, § 4. Although André Dupont-Sommer does identify the “dwelling for the wicked ones of the nations” with Jerusalem, he argues that the phrase “the wicked ones” refers to the Roman army; see La Bible. Écrits intertestamentaires (A. Dupont-Sommer and M. Philonenko, ed.; Paris: Gallimard, 1987), 360. However, this cannot be a reference to the Romans if the pesher associates Nah 2:12–14 with Jannaeus (even if the Romans are mentioned elsewhere in the pesher).

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Nahum, God will put an end to Jannaeus’ activities, destroy his army (or merely his mercenaries?), deprive him and his descendants of their riches, and bring his diplomatic endeavours to a halt.

The Pesher on Habakkuk

The Pesher Habakkuk adopts a similar stance, foretelling that the riches of the Hasmoneans will fall into the hands of the Romans. The virulence with which the Romans are criticized in this work suggests that it dates from after 63 B.C.E.154 The key point, from the perspective of the present study, is that Pesher Habakkuk explicitly connects the riches of the Hasmoneans with their wars of conquest.155 Commenting on Hab 2:8a (“For you have plundered many nations, but all the rest of the peoples will plunder you”), the author of the Pesher writes that these words are aimed at the last priests 5 of Jerusalem, who amass wealth and profit from the plunder of the peoples (‫;)משלל ‏העמים‬‎6 but in latter days (or: at the end of times) their wealth together with their plunder will be given (‫ )ינתן הונם עם שללם‬into the hand of 7 the army of the Kittim (‫)חיל הכתיאים‬.  vacat For they (the Kittim) are the rest of the peoples. (1QpHab IX 4–7)156

This is a clear allusion to the Hasmoneans’ riches, which, according to the pesher, will eventually fall into the hands of the Romans (i. e. the Kittim). The connection that this text establishes between Hab 2:8a and the Hasmonean wars casts their campaigns in a very negative light: they are referred to as “the plunder of the peoples” and the riches they generated are described as wrongfully acquired. This is not very far from Strabo’s suggestion that the Hasmoneans protected marauding brigands who plundered the neighbouring territories. It is difficult to know precisely who “the last priests of Jerusalem” were. In 4Q167, the phrase “the last priest” seems to refer to Alexander Jannaeus, in which case it is possible that there is a play on words between kefir he-h ․aron (“Lion of Wrath,” line 2) and kohen ha-ah ․aron (“the last priest,” line 3). In Pesher Habakkuk, this phrase could refer to Alexander Jannaeus and his sons Aristobulus II and 154 See for example 1QpHab III 2–13. This manuscript dates from the Herodian period, and was copied by two different scribes. 155 In contrast, Josephus suggests that John Hyrcanus initially derived his wealth from his exploitation of Judea in a peaceful interval (see Ant. 13.273). However, the borders of Judea had already been extended. On the connection between John’s wars of conquest and the wealth of the Judean elite, see Seth Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 41–42; and Part II, § 4. On the prosperity of the wider Judean population under Hyrcanus, see Josephus, Ant. 13.284 (Josephus adds that the Jewish communities of Alexandria, Egypt and Cyprus were also prosperous). 156 Trans. M. P. Horgan, “Habakkuk Pesher,” 157–186 (the quotation is on p. 177). See also idem, Pesharim: Qumran Interpretations of Biblical Books (Washington: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1979), 10–55.

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Hyrcanus II, as André Dupont-Sommer already suggested a long time ago,157 or simply to the two sons. In the previous column (col. VIII), the “wicked priest” is mentioned in the commentary on Hab 2:5–6:158 (Hab 2:5) Moreover, wealth (MT: wine) betrays a haughty man, and 4 he is unseemly, who opens his soul wide like Sheol; and like death he cannot be sated. 5 And all the nations are gathered about him, and all the peoples are assembled to him. 6 (Hab 2:6) Do not all of them raise a taunt against him and interpreters of riddles about him, who say: “Woe to the one who multiplies what is not his own! How long will he weigh himself down with debt?” (1QpHab VIII 3–8)

The rest of column VIII includes the following commentary: Its interpretation concerns the Wicked Priest, who 9 was called by the true name at the beginning of his standing, but when he ruled 10 in Israel, his heart became large (or: haughty), and he abandoned God, and betrayed the statuses for the sake of 11 wealth (‫הון‬, hōn). And he stole and amassed the wealth (‫הון‬, hōn) of the men of violence who had rebelled against God, 12 and he took the wealth (‫הון‬, hōn) of peoples to add to himself guilty iniquity (‫עון‬, ‘awōn). And the abominable 13 ways he pursued with every sort of unclean impurity. (1QpHab VIII 8–13; trans. Horgan, “Habakkuk Pesher,” 175)

This passage provides us with important information. The fact that the wicked priest is said to have ruled over Israel suggests that he probably was the high priest, rather than a common priest. More importantly, his betrayal of the covenant and commandments is linked to his greed, his thirst for riches (‫הון‬, hōn). The text specifies that he seized the wealth of violent men who had themselves rebelled against God (line 11), as well as the assets of the peoples (or: nations; hōn ‘amim, line 12). These last words clearly refer to the wars that Judea waged against its neighbours. This is not enough in order to identify the wicked priest with Alexander J­ annaeus, since Jonathan, Simon, John Hyrcanus, and Aristobulus also waged wars against Judea’s neighbours. Although I am not going to settle this difficult question here, I do wish to emphasize, after William Brownlee in a 1982 article, that Pesher ­Habakkuk does not suggest anywhere that the office of the high priesthood had been usurped or that the wicked priest did not have a legitimate claim to the s­ acerdotal office. As Brownlee writes, “in any translation it is the lust for wealth which has made a traitor of the Wicked Priest, and nothing is said of the usurpation of an office which did not belong to him.”159 The wicked priest’s 157 See André Dupont-Sommer, La Bible. Écrits intertestamentaires, 349. 158 The Pesher reproduces a text that differs in part from the MT. Thus, it reads “wealth” (‫‏הון‬, hōn) instead of “wine” (‫‏היין‬, ha-yaïn). I have reproduced the biblical text found in the Qumran manuscript. Trans. Horgan, “Habakkuk Pesher,” 175. 159 Brownlee, “The Wicked Priest,” 7.

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thirst for riches led him to forsake God and commit iniquities, after an initially rather good start as a high priest. I shall leave the question of his identification open: what I wish to emphasize instead, is the condemnation of the greed of the Hasmoneans and the violence unleashed by their thirst for wealth.

Is there a condemnation of the Hasmonean wars in 4Q471a?

The last piece of evidence I shall examine here is a small fragment identified as coming from 4Q471a (as opposed to 4Q471, which includes a text similar to the War Scroll). Although the single copy of the fragment known as 4Q471a also mentions wars, it differs from the War Scroll; it is more similar to the pesharim, even though there is no indication that this text is a pesher: 1 […] when you were commanded not to 2 […] And you violated His covenant 3 [… You said,] “We shall fight His battles, because He redeemed us” 4 […] your […] will be brought low, and they did not know that He despised 5 […] you become mighty for battle, and you were accounted 6 […] vacat You seek righteous judgement and service of 7 […] you are arrogant. vacat And he chose [them …] to the cry 8 […] and You put […] sweet160

The handwriting dates from the Herodian era, and the editors of the text, Esther Eshel and Menahem Kister, estimate that its redaction probably dates from later than 63 B.C.E. According to them, the text may be a retrospective polemic against the Hasmoneans’ triumphalist and militaristic outlook.161 This being said, the criticisms voiced in the text are very general and it is not possible to positively identify any of the names mentioned. Moreover, this very fragmentary text invites multiple readings. The editors’ interpretation is based on a number of well-attested features, including the recurrent use in the text of the second person plural; the presence of scathing observations, such as “you violated His covenant” (line 2) and “you are arrogant” (line 7); and the references to war on lines 3 and 5. If we follow the editors’ suggestion that on line 3 the words “We shall fight His battles” should be attributed to the protagonists who, on line 2, are accused of having violated God’s covenant, then it seems very likely that this text condemns the Hasmonean wars. If

160 The words “And he chose [them …]” and “and You put” on lines 7–8 come from a small independent fragment which could also have been placed elsewhere. See E. Eshel and M. Kister, “471a. 4QPolemical Text,” in DJD XXXVI. Qumran Cave 4, XXVI: Miscellanea, Part 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000), 446–449; it is their translation that I quote. Eshel and Kister read the endline word “sweet” (‫ )מתוק‬in connection with Isa 5:20. 161 See E. Eshel and M. Kister, “A Polemical Qumran Fragment (4Q471),” JJS 43/2 (1992): 277–281 and idem, “471a. 4QPolemical Text,” 446–447. They read the criticism underlying 4Q471a in light of Pesher Nahum. See also H. Eshel, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Hasmonean State, 135–136.

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this were the case, we could further argue that, in their opponents’ eyes, the Hasmoneans deceitfully presented their wars as divinely ordained wars. To conclude, we must acknowledge that the Qumran texts remain difficult to interpret, and their historical implications are still a subject of debate in some cases (such as 4Q448). However, taken together, these fragmentary and enigmatic documents do provide us with a significant number of clues. In particular, they show that there is a strong probability that the sectarian Qumran manuscripts articulate a triple critique of the Hasmoneans, and that, depending on the text, this critique is variously aimed at John Hyrcanus and/or his sons, and Alexander Jannaeus and/or his sons. The objections voiced in these texts sometimes focus on the claims they laid to the titles of prophet, high priest, or king – indeed, according to 4Q175, Hyrcanus was neither an authentic prophet, nor a legitimate high priest, nor a political messiah. Other manuscripts condemn the fact that they held sacerdotal and royal offices concurrently – this criticism is particularly acute in the case of John Hyrcanus who claimed he could fulfil the function of prophet as well as these two offices (even if he did not hold the title of king). Finally, some of these texts denounce the Hasmonean leaders as wicked priests who do not show any respect for the divine commandments, and who have been led by their greed to commit all sorts of violent acts inside Judea, and outside of it during their wars against the surrounding nations (at least in 4Q175 and the pesharim). This last aspect of the sectarian texts is also found in 4Q390, which according to Devorah Dimant, was close to these works, but was not necessarily one of them. Some of the non-sectarian Qumran manuscripts, including such works as the Apocryphon of Joshua and the Temple Scroll, may also be read as documents voicing an indirect or implicit critique of the Hasmoneans. Both the Apocryphon of Joshua and the Temple Scroll belong in the category of the texts that have affinities with the sectarian texts. If we associate 4Q522 with the Apocryphon, the passages which can be identified as critical of the Hasmoneans bear on the distinction between the role of the king (or political and military leader) and that of the priests, emphasize the pre-eminence of the latter over the former, and set out the conditions for the king’s exercise of power. In the case of both the Apocryphon of Joshua and the Temple Scroll, this raises the question of whether the passages which mention these issues are the result of a redactional phase that took place later than the initial composition of the work – during the high priesthood of John Hyrcanus or at the start of the reign of Jannaeus, for example. Unlike the sectarian texts – and with the exception of the commentary on Josh 6:26 in 4Q379, which may already refer to John Hyrcanus – these texts do not directly attack one or more Hasmonean leader(s). 4Q448 is an exception in this regard. If we accept the interpretation of this work as a prayer against king Jonathan and for peace in Israel, then it may be considered to represent a critical appraisal of Jannaeus’ wars. Finally, it seems very likely that 4Q471a echoes a polemic against the propaganda notion that the Hasmoneans waged the wars of YHWH when they launched their campaigns. 

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On the whole, the Qumran scrolls (whatever the category they fall into) tend to corroborate Josephus, who mentions that from John Hyrcanus onwards, the dynasty faced a growing opposition. The Qumran scrolls do not exclude the possibility that some form of opposition might already have existed before this period – this question remains open in the case of Jonathan, in particular. But they do confirm that the Hasmoneans did face such an opposition from the high priesthood of Hyrcanus I onwards. However, this does not answer the question of the size of this opposition, beyond the elitist movement associated with the Qumran community.

1.2 The critique of the Hasmoneans in the Psalms of Solomon The rejection of the Hasmonean dynasty is also clear in the Psalms of Solomon, a Jewish literary work which dates roughly from the same period as the pesharim, but was composed in a very different circle. Although this work has been transmitted to us in Greek, its original language is a subject of debate: its many Hebraisms suggest that it may originally have been written in Hebrew or Aramaic – however, it is also possible that its Hebraisms merely reflect an attempt to imitate the style of some of the books in the Septuagint.162 In any case, the importance in this work of the themes of the holy city, the temple, and the prayer for the return of the exiles (PsSol 8:28; 11) suggests that it may have been composed in Judea. There is a reference to the death of Pompey in Ps 2 (vv. 26–27), and the final redaction of the work as a whole probably dates from the Herodian era, even if later reworkings cannot be excluded.163 The condemnation in Ps 8 of those who commit incest and sully the sanctuary with menstrual blood (vv. 8–13) remains vague. Ps 17 is more specific: 4 You, O Lord, you chose David king over Israel, and you swore to him concerning his offspring forever, that his king would never fail before you. 5 But, because of our sins, sinners rose up against us, they attacked us and thrust us out, [those] to whom you 162 On this issue see Jan Joosten, “Reflections on the Original Language of the Psalms of Solomon,” in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology (E. Bons and P. Pouchelle, ed.; Atlanta: SBL, 2015), 31–47. 163 A Herodian dating is certainly likely in the case of Psalm 17, if only because of v. 9 (see infra). See A. Caquot, “Les Hasmonéens, les Romains et Hérode,” in Hellenica et Judaica: Hommage à Valentin Nikiprowetsky (ed. A. Caquot et al.; Leuven, Peeters, 1984), 213–218; K. Atkinson, “On the Herodian Origin of Militant Davidic Messianism at Qumran: New Light from Psalm of Solomon 17,” JBL 118 (1999): 435–460; R. A. Werline, “The Psalms of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” in Conflicted Boundaries in Wisdom Apocalypticism (ed. B. G. Wright; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005), 69–87 (esp. 71); B. Eckhardt, “PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius,” JSJ 40/4–5 (2009): 465–492. Samuel Rocca rather unconvincingly suggests that the king messiah described in PsSol 17 refers to Herod, of whom the author would have been a supporter (S. Rocca, “Josephus and the Psalms of Solomon on Herod’s Messianic Aspirations: An Interpretation,” in Making History: Josephus and Historical Method [ed. Z. Rodgers; Leiden: Brill, 2007], 313–333).

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did not promise, they took possession with violence (μετὰ βίας ἀφείλαντο) and they did not glorify your honourable name. 6 They set up in glory a kingship because of their arrogance (ἐν δόξῃ ἔθεντο βασίλειον ἀντὶ ὕψους αὐτῶν),164 they laid waste the throne of David in tumultuous arrogance. 7 But you, O God, have overthrown them and have removed their offspring from the earth, by having a man who is foreign to our race turn against them (ἀρεῖς τὸ σπέρμα αὐτῶν ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς ἐν τῷ ἐπαναστῆναι αὐτοῖς ἄνθρωπον ἀλλότριον γένους ἡμῶν). 8 According to their sins you have repaid them, O God, (so that) it befell them according to their works. 9 God did not have mercy on them, he has sought out their offspring and let no one of them go free. (PsSol 17:4–9; trans. K. Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 130, slightly modified)165

As Victor Aptowitzer already observed, this passage is clearly aimed at the Hasmoneans.166 The originality of this text is that it reproaches them for usurping the title of king, which was the prerogative of the descendants of David. The line of David is not invoked as an argument against the dynasty in the Qumran scrolls hostile to the Hasmoneans, although the Pesher on Isaiah (a) (4Q161) may have developed this kind of argument.167 The words “they took possession with violence,” which probably mean “they seized power with violence,” echo the portrayal, in some Qumran scrolls, of the Hasmoneans as violent men who steal the property of others. Contrary to what Eyal Regev asserts,168 the criticism voiced in PsSol 17 is not merely targeted at Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, but also at Alexander Jannaeus, or even Aristobulus I, since the Hasmoneans are berated for 164 The meaning of this part of v. 6 is difficult to establish. The phrase ἀντὶ ὕψους αὐτῶν could also be translated as “in place of their elevation”. In which case, “their elevation” would probably refer to their sacerdotal office, which they would have given up on, in order to become kings. Cf. D. R. Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition to the Hasmonean Monarchy,” in Studies in the Jewish Background of Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 44–56 (esp. 46). 165 Greek text in R. B. Wright, The Psalms of Solomon: A Critical Edition of the Greek Text (New York–London: T&T Clark, 2007), 178–180. I have used a past tense to translate three verbs which are in the future in Greek (“have overthrown,” “have removed,” and “have repaid” in v. 7–8) because of the overall meaning of the passage and also because it resumes the use of the aorist in v. 9. This use of the future may be explained by a confusion associated with the use of wayiqtol in the original text, if we suppose that this work was originally written in Hebrew. 166 Aptowitzer, Parteipolitik der Hasmonäerzeit im rabbinischen und pseudoepigraphischen Schriftum (Vienna: Verlag der Kohut-Foundation, 1927), 49–51. F. K. Movers was the first to establish a connection between this text and the Hasmoneans, in “Apokryphen-Literatur” (in Kirchenlexikon [H. J. Wetzer and B. Welte, ed.; Freiburg im Breisgau, 1847], 1:340), according to J. Efron, “The Psalms of Solomon, the Hasmonean Decline and Christianity”, in Studies in the Hasmonean Period, 219–286 (esp. 222). 167 See § 1.1.3 above. According to Kenneth E. Pomykala, it was the sense of disappointment created by the Hasmonean dynasty that renewed the anticipation for a messiah descended from David (The Davidic Dynasty Tradition in Early Judaism, 167). In the Qumran scrolls, a Davidic messiah is only explicitly awaited in later compositions, from the end of the first century B.C.E. onwards (ibid., 212–216). 168 Regev, The Hasmoneans, 164.

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taking the title of kings. Indeed, this text seems to reflect the author’s rejection of the dynasty as a whole. The identity of the foreigner (“foreign to our race”) is a subject of debate. This man has traditionally been identified with Pompey, which has led some scholars to date the rise of anti-Hasmonean arguments based on Davidic messianism to the end of the dynasty, and the Psalms of Solomon to soon after 63 B.C.E.169 However, several scholars argue that this “foreign” man was in fact Herod, who proved to be the instrument of God when he hounded the descendants of the Hasmoneans, ensuring – with the help of the Romans – that the dynasty would never rise again (PsSol 17:9).170 According to them, it was only in the context of the Herodian period, when a king with Idumean roots ruled over Judea, that the people started to await a Davidic messiah, and retrospectively began to reproach the Hasmoneans for not being descended from David.171 According to Benedikt Eckhardt, it is important to distinguish between two, or possibly three, different redactions of Psalm 17. He argues that vv. 1–10 (which allude to the “foreign” Herod) are more recent that vv. 11–20 (which refer to Pompey as “the lawless one” [anomos]).172 According to him, this redactional re-elaboration led to the emergence of a hybrid figure, which he describes as a kind of “Herodompeius”. In his view, the last part of the Psalm (vv. 21–46) is also the oldest.173 However, Benedikt Eckhardt’s suggestion that the final section of the text is also the oldest introduces a problem, or even a contradiction in his argument. The last section of Psalm 17 describes the reign of the righteous descendant of David, 169 See Aptowitzer, Parteipolitik, 51. Kenneth Atkinson initially considered that the beginning of Psalm 17 alluded to Herod and the siege of 37 B.C.E. (see “Herod the Great, Sosius and the Siege of Jerusalem (37 B.C.E.) in Psalm of Solomon 17,” NT 38/4 [1996]: 313–322). However, he now believes that PsSol 17 reflects the events of the period stretching from 67 to 63 B.C.E., and argues that the critique of the Hasmoneans was already based at the time on the fact that they were not descended from David (I Cried to the Lord, 13). He also writes that “Once it is recognized that the Psalms of Solomon are the theological reflections of a Jewish sectarian community on events in Jerusalem from approximately 67 BCE to 63 BCE, it becomes clear that Davidic messianism was a theological development that emerged directly in reaction to the Hasmoneans and the Roman conquest of Jerusalem” (I Cried to the Lord, 220). 170 In another text, which dates from the start of the first century C.E., The Assumption (or: Testament) of Moses, Herod is presented as the successor of the Hasmoneans, and the instrument of their punishment. See J. Tromp, The Assumption of Moses: A Critical Edition with Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 198. The story of Taxo and his seven sons in chapter 9 of the Assumption of Moses (which recalls that of the Maccabean martyrs) leads Ida Fröhlich to conclude that the author may have held a positive opinion of the Maccabean revolt, but not of the Hasmonean dynasty itself, which he considered to have been synonymous with wickedness (“Evaluation of the Hasmonean Period,” 172). 171 See Eckhardt, “PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius,” 489. 172 According to Johannes Tromp, the “sinners” in v. 5 and the “lawless one” in v. 11 are the Romans (“Psalm of Solomon 17,” NT 35/4 [1993]: 344–361; see p. 360). 173 Eckhardt, “PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius,” 492.

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the king awaited by the author of the Psalm, and the latter asks God to give him strength in order “to shatter in pieces unrighteous rulers (τοῦ θραῦσαι ἄρχοντας ἀδίκους), (and) to purge Jerusalem from nations that trample her down in destruction” (v. 22).174 The “unrighteous rulers” could well be the Hasmoneans. Certainly, the last part of the text does show that the author awaited a king descended from David, which was of course not the case of the Hasmoneans. Moreover, vv. 32–34 provide us with an instructive account of the behaviour expected of this descendant of David: 32 And he shall be a righteous king, taught by God, over them, and there shall be no injustice in his days in their midst, for all shall be holy, and their king the Lord’s Messiah.175 33 For he shall not put his hope in horse and rider and bow, nor shall he multiply for himself gold and silver for war, nor shall he gather hopes from a multitude of people for the day of battle (οὐ γὰρ ἐλπιεῖ ἐπὶ ἵππον καὶ ἀναβάτην καὶ τόξον · οὐδὲ πληθυνεῖ αὑτῷ χρυσίον οὐδὲ ἀργύριον εἰς πόλεμον · καὶ πολλοῖς οὐ συνάξει ἐλπίδας εἰς ἡμέραν πολέμου). 34 The Lord himself is his king, the hope of him who is strong through hope in God … (PsSol 17:32–34; trans. K. Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 131–132)

This passage is written in a familiar biblical style. In particular, it recalls Deut 17:15– 20; the “Law of the King” that has already been mentioned in connection with the Temple Scroll; and Deut 20:1.176 However, the fact that the king is explicitly prohibited from gathering gold and silver in order to wage war and from placing his trust into the armed forces, has a particular resonance in an anti-Hasmonean work. It seems likely that this text is implicitly criticizing the Hasmoneans’ numerous wars, the greed which motivated their campaigns, and their use of mercenaries.177 As such, it does not seem to enable to assert, as Benedikt Eckhardt does, that “only the section of Ps 17 which – if the clues mentioned here point us in the right direction – names Herod and therefore dates at the earliest from the Herodian period, 174 Trans. K. Atkinson, I Cried to the Lord, 131. 175 The rather odd juxtaposition of christos and kyrios could be the result of the awkward Greek translation of a Hebrew construction (“the anointed of the Lord”), as Wellhausen already suggested in Die Pharisäer und die Sadducäer (Greifswald: L. Bamberg, 1874), 132. This hypo­ thesis underpins Atkinson’s translation. This phrase might also refer to the political messiah, to whom God delegates his lordship. Whatever the case may be, this phrase alone does not justify to see this passage as a Christian interpolation. 176 See Deut 17:17, καὶ ἀργύριον καὶ χρυσίον οὐ πληθυνεῖ ἑαυτῷ σφόδρα; Deut 20:1, Ἐὰν δὲ ἐξέλθῃς εἰς πόλεμον ἐπὶ τοὺς ἐχθρούς σου καὶ ἴδῃς ἵππον καὶ ἀναβάτην καὶ λαὸν πλείονά σου, οὐ φοβηθήσῃ ἀπ᾿ αὐτῶν, ὅτι κύριος ὁ θεός σου μετὰ σοῦ ὁ ἀναβιβάσας σε ἐκ γῆς Αἰγύπτου. See also 1 Kgs 20:1.21.25; Isa 31:1. 177 This is probably the passage which leads Rodney A. Werline to assert that the Psalms of Solomon denounce the Hasmonean policy of expansion (he does not back up his argument with precise references). According to him, the entire work (and not just Psalm 17) can be read as a condemnation of the Hasmoneans (“The Psalms of Solomon,” 74).

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opposes the Davidic and Hasmonean monarchies to each other”.178 The Hasmonean dynasty and the Davidic king whose reign and approach to the exercise of power are described in the last section of Ps 17 are at least implicitly contrasted with each other, if only because the Hasmoneans were not descended from David. Although it is true that it is only in the first section of the Psalm that the Hasmoneans are explicitly accused of seizing a throne that belongs to the descendants of David, a Davidic messiah is already awaited in the third section, which Benedikt Eckhardt considers to be older than the other two. In its final form, Ps 17 thus clearly includes a polemic against the Hasmoneans, whatever the redactional layers of the Psalms of Solomon in general, and of Ps 17 in particular. Is it possible to identify the background of the author of the Psalms of Solomon, or at least of that of Ps 17? The author has traditionally been identified as a Pharisee. However, this view, which goes back to Julius Wellhausen and is still upheld today by Shani Berrin, is based on rather shaky foundations.179 Everything we know about the Pharisees comes from Josephus, the New Testament and rabbinic literature; as we shall see below, the criticism of the Hasmoneans that the rabbinic sources – at least in the case of those from Palestine – occasionally reproduce do not bear on the fact that they were not descended from David.180 It seems preferable to simply stress that unlike the Qumran scrolls, the Psalms of Solomon are concerned with the welfare of the people of Israel as a whole, and do not seem to be associated with a “sectarian” context.181 178 Original German text: “Nur der Teil von PsSal 17, der – wenn die hier angeführten Indizien in die richtige Richtung weisen – Herodes nennt und also frühestens in herodianischer Zeit entstanden ist, stellt davidisches und hasmonäisches Königtum einander gegenüber” (Eckhardt, “PsSal 17, die Hasmonäer und der Herodompeius,” 489). 179 See Wellhausen, Die Pharisäer und die Sadducäer, 112–116 and 131–138; J. Schüpphaus, Die Psalmen Salomos: Ein Zeugnis Jerusalemer Theologie und Frömmigkeit in der Mitte des vorchristlichen Jahrhunderts (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 127–137; Berrin, “Pesher Nahum, Psalms of Solomon and Pompey,” in Reworking the Bible. Apocryphal and Related Texts at Qumran (ed. E. G. Chazon; Leiden: Brill, 2005), 65–84 (esp. 84). On the history of this hypothesis, see Efron, “The Psalms of Solomon,” 223–226, who is very sceptical. Rodney Werline also rejects this hypothesis in “The Psalms of Solomon,” 82. Joshua Efron considers that the Psalms of Solomon is a Christian work which has no grounding in any specific episode of Jewish history, and that this work, which was heretical from the perspective of the talmudic sources, poisoned the debate on the history of the Hasmonean dynasty (which Efron wishes to rehabilitate); see Efron, ibid., 286. The belief in free will expressed in PsSol 9:4 does seem to support the notion that the author was a Pharisee, to the extent that it reflects what Josephus says about the Pharisees in Ant. 13.172. However, this type of position was not defended by the Pharisees alone, but also by many other Jews. 180 See Efron, “The Psalms of Solomon,” 233–234. 181 For example, PsSol 7:8 asks God to take pity on “the race of Israel”; 9:8 asserts: “you are our God, and we are the people whom you have loved”; 14:5: “the portion and inheritance of God is Israel”; 18:3 speaks of the love of God for “the descendants of Abraham, the children of Israel” (see also 11:7–9). The focus is on Israel as opposed to the “nations”.

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2. Memory and Forgetting: the Hasmonean expansion in rabbinic literature The rabbinic perception of the Hasmoneans was the focus of heated debates throughout the twentieth century, because of the role that the Hasmonean model played in Zionism (especially before the creation of the state of Israel)182 and the wider discussion of the “nationalism” of the Sages (i. e. the rabbis of the rabbinic period, whose concern for national, political issues was challenged by various 19th and 20th century scholars).183 The notion that the rabbis were opposed to the Hasmoneans was endorsed with great enthusiasm by Victor Aptowitzer, leading a certain number of scholars to respond with works seeking to rehabilitate the rabbinic memory of the Hasmoneans.184 As Vered Noam writes, “During the middle of the 20th century a shift occurred: Jewish scholars, influenced by the Zionist revival, took pains to prove that the Sages had in fact lent their support to, and identified with, the Hasmoneans.”185 However, the scholarship on the rabbinic tradition eventually became more considered, as scholars started to acknowledge the fact that although the rabbinic sources painted a positive picture of the dynasty overall, this did not mean that some individual Hasmonean leaders – such as Alexander Jannaeus, in particular – had not also been the butt of their criticism.186 Philip Alexander has suggested that the rabbis’ reservations towards the Hasmoneans, and even Hanukkah itself, were associated with their 182 See Eliezer Don-Yehiya, “Hanukkah and the Myth of the Maccabees in Zionist Ideology and in Israeli Society”; Yaakov Shavit, Athens in Jerusalem, 314–319. 183 Yaakov Shavit himself writes: “Nevertheless, even if Jewish tradition had not downplayed the rebellion, it certainly had neither concerned itself with the detailed course of the war, nor recognized the political aspect of the struggle – the achievement of an independent Jewish state – but only the religious motivation of preserving Jewish life according to halakhah” (­Athens in Jerusalem, 315). 184 See in particular Alon, “Did the Jewish People and its Sages Cause the Hasmoneans to be Forgotten?;” Efron, Studies on the Hasmonean Period, 29–32 and 215–216. The work where Aptowitzer makes these claims is none other than his Parteipolitik der Hasmonäerzeit (esp. chapter 5). 185 Vered Noam, “The Miracle of the Cruse of Oil,” HUCA 73 (2003): 191–226 (the quotation is on p. 194). She draws on Daniel R. Schwartz in “On Pharisaic Opposition to the Hasmonean Monarchy”. 186 See the articles by Noam and Schwartz mentioned in the previous footnote, as well as those by P. S. Alexander and G. Stemberger in the following footnote. See also I. Gafni, “The Hasmoneans in Rabbinic Literature,” in The Hasmonean Era (Idan 19) (D. Amit and H. Eshel, ed.; Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 1996), 261–276 (Heb.). Gafni rightly stresses that there could be a discrepancy between what the rabbis had to say about the dynasty as a whole and its individual leaders. The rabbinic texts tend to be full of praise for Salome Alexandra for example (ibid., 273–275): although this must of course have been linked to the fact that the relationship between the Pharisees and the dynasty improved under this queen, the peace that characterized her reign, according to Josephus, may also have had something to do with her glowing image in rabbinic writings.

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rejection of militaristic messianism in all its forms, and with a concern that the Hasmoneans fostered this type of behaviour. He argues that, following the defeats of Judea at the hands of Rome in 70 and 135, the rabbis decided that caution and “accommodation” were the best policy towards Rome, and that this was why they did not exalt the dynasty’s military victories and – more importantly for us here – their expansion of the Judean territory.187 However, let us go back to the texts themselves, bearing in mind that we must distinguish between the Palestinian rabbinic sources, which were produced in a Roman context, and the Babylonian rabbinic sources.188 In the pages that follow, I shall focus exclusively on the memory of the Hasmonean wars in rabbinic literature. In other words, I do not seek not provide the reader with an exhaustive analysis of all the different aspects of the Sages’ perception of the Hasmonean dynasty; nor do I seek to argue that the Sages had no “national” political aspirations. Instead, my focus is exclusively on the memory of the Hasmonean wars, and I merely observe that, with the exception of Megillat Ta‘anit, the rabbinic literature from Eretz Israel does not seem to have preserved the memory of the wars of conquest waged by John Hyrcanus and his followers – which is rather odd, to say the least.

2.1 The memory of the Hasmonean victories in rabbinic literature 2.1.1 The memory of these victories in Megillat Ta‘anit

The work known as Megillat Ta‘anit stands out from the rest of the ancient Jewish literature: this document, which is written in Aramaic, is a short list of the dates of the various feast days on which it is forbidden to fast or mourn the dead: each date is followed with a brief description (one line at the most) of 187 See Alexander, “From Poetry to Historiography: The Image of the Hasmoneans in Targum Canticles and the Question of the Targum’s Provenance and Date,” JSPs 19 (1999): 103–128. Günter Stemberger is not entirely convinced by this explanation (“The Maccabees in Rabbinic Tradition,” in The Scriptures and the Scrolls. Studies in Honour of A. S. Van der Woude [ed. García Martínez et al.; Leiden: Brill, 1992], 193–203). 188 Let us also remember that, according to Origen, the First Book of Maccabees was originally entitled Sarbēthsabanaiel (σαρβὴθ σαρβανὲ ἔλ according to Estienne’s correction of Eusebius’ text, Hist. eccl. 6.25.2), that is, “Book of the Dynasty of God’s Rebels,” if we correct sar as sfar. According to Jonathan Goldstein, this title was pejorative (i. e. the Hasmoneans were those who rebelled against God) and the origin of this title should be attributed to Jews hostile to the dynasty, who may also have interpreted the name of the Maccabees’ sacerdotal clan – Yehoyarib (1 Macc 2:1) – to mean “God will fight (against them)”. See J. A. Goldstein, “The Hasmoneans: The Dynasty of God’s Resistors,” HTR 68/1 (1975): 53–58; Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” 17. However, Goldstein’s hypothesis raises several problems, if only because the rabbinic literature neither mentions this designation, nor presents the Hasmoneans as rebels against God. This hypothesis remains unconvincing even if we suppose that this sobriquet was coined by a non-rabbinic community of Hebrew speakers.

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the festive event to which it corresponds.189 This list, which seems to date from the end of the Second Temple period,190 is associated in the manuscripts with a medieval commentary (or scholion) written in Hebrew.191 There are several versions of the scholion. According to Vered Noam, the versions represented in the Oxford and Parma manuscripts (O and P) are aggadic anthologies which include some ancient traditions, whereas the “hybrid” version reflects an exclusively medieval redactional phase.192 Although it has not been possible in some cases to identify the events explaining why certain dates were feast days, it does seem that in the majority of cases, the dates mentioned coincide with the Hasmonean period. As Uriel Rappaport emphasizes, without the scholion, Megillat Ta‘anit does not contain any information not already found in 1 Maccabees, 2 Maccabees and Flavius Josephus – indeed, without these works it would be difficult to determine the events to which these dates refer. What makes Megillat Ta‘anit interesting is mostly the fact that it suggests that the Hasmoneans had left a positive mark on the Jewish collective memory, at least in the circles of the Pharisees (or: the Tannaim), who are supposedly at the origin of this list written in Aramaic.193 At least six or seven of the dates corresponding to the Hasmonean period are associated in one way or another with the wars of liberation waged by the sons of Mattathias:

189 The most authoritative edition of this work is now that of Vered Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit: Versions, Interpretation, History, with a Critical Edition (Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2003) (Heb.). According to Vered Noam, this composition has a Pharisee background (op. cit., 19). A new manuscript has been discovered since the publication of Vered Noam’s edition. See Y. Rosenthal, “A Newly Discovered Leaf of Megillat Ta‘anit and its Scholion,” Tarbiz 77/3–4 (2008): 357– 410 (Heb.). However, this manuscript does not provide any significant variants on the dates that I examine below. 190 Vered Noam dates it to the period between 41 and 70 B.C.E. (“Megillat Ta’anit (The Scroll of Fasting),” 4415). The events mentioned in the Megillah stretch from the Persian period to the reign of Caligula, at least. 191 It was Heinrich Graetz who first drew attention to this difference between the list and the scholion; see Graetz, Geschichte der Juden von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die Gegenwart, vol. III: Geschichte der Judäer von dem Tode Juda Makkabi’s zum Untergange des judäische Staates (Leipzig: O. Leiner, 1888), 559–577. 192 See in particular Noam, “Megillat Taanit–The Scroll of Fasting,” 353–356. 193 Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 72–73. The scholion (O and P) associates the date of 2 Shevat, described as a feast (yom tov), with the death of Alexander Jannaeus, who is classified as a wicked man (O) or blamed for having imprisoned 70 elders of Israel (P); however, there is nothing in the Megillah itself to corroborate this hostility towards Jannaeus.

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1. 23 Iyyar was the day Simon captured the Acra; 2. 24 Av was the day on which the children of Israel were able to start living according to their Law again, probably following the “persecution” under Antiochus IV;194 3. 3 Tishri was the day when “the mention was abolished from legal documents” – according to both scholions O and P (with variants), this is a reference to the fact that, after the Hasmonean dynasty defeated the kingdom of Greece, official documents and contracts were dated according to the number of years the high priest had been in office (cf. 1 Macc 14:27). However, it is difficult to determine what event was in fact being commemorated in the Megillah; 4. 27 Heshvan (or Marheshvan in the Megillah) was the day when “fine flour was again offered on the altar”; this probably refers to the resumption of the sacrifices following the purification of the sanctuary (even though this is not related to the Hasmoneans in either scholion O or P, but to quarrels between different schools); 5. 25 Kislev was the start of Hanukkah, a festival associated with the dedication of the altar that Judas had purified; 6. 28 Shevat was the anniversary of the departure from Jerusalem of Antiochus (probably Antiochus IV, but it might also be Antiochus VII); 7. 13 Adar was the anniversary of the day of Nicanor. Moreover, two other dates (27 Iyyar and 25 Sivan) commemorate the exemption of the Judeans from various taxes. Although it has not been possible to associate these dates with any specific circumstances, it seems probable that one (or both) of them are related to the tax exemptions the Judeans were granted under Jonathan and/or Simon. Finally, the text also mentions three other dates (7 Iyyar, 4 Elul, 16 Adar) associated with the reconstruction or the dedication of the walls of Jerusalem. In this case too, it is possible that one of these dates is associated with the Hasmonean period. However, all of these occasions for festivities commemorate an occasion when Judea was on the defensive or a moment of liberation, as opposed to conquests. The text does however mention three or four dates associated with the ­military victories of Hyrcanus, his sons, or Alexander Jannaeus – that is, with wars of conquest:

194 See the commentary provided in scholion O. There is a different interpretation in scholion P.

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1. 14 Sivan was the anniversary of Jannaeus’ capture of Strato’s Tower;195  2. on 15 and 16 Sivan, the Judeans commemorated the victories of the sons of John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus and Antigonus, against “Beth Shean [Scythopolis] and the valley,” and the fact that their inhabitants “went into exile (or: left) (‎‫;”)גלו‬‎196 3. 25 Heshvan (or Marheshvan in the Megillah) was associated with Aristobulus and Antigonus’ capture of Samaria;197  4. 21 Kislev was “the day of Mount Garizim,” and probably refers to the destruction of the Samaritan temple by John Hyrcanus, even if the scholion associates this date with Alexander the Great’s conquest of Judea and Samaria – as a result, few commentators associate this date with Hyrcanus’ victory (Ant. 13.254– 256).198 Finally, the date of 17 Adar (line 35) is associated with an especially mysterious event: “The peoples rose up against the rest of the scribes in the city of Chalcis in the house of Zabdi, and a redemption occurred.”199 Scholion P suggests that these lines describe the persecution of the Sages by non-Jews. However, scholion O reads them in light of an episode in which Jannaeus attempted to have his two brothers killed, leading them to flee to Syria where the local population also tried to kill them, but were stopped in their tracks by a prodigy. As for the hybrid version, it is a mix of the two narratives: it explains that Jannaeus’ hostility towards the Sages forced them to seek refuge in Syria, where they were attacked by non-Jews. In any

195 See Josephus, Ant. 13.324–326, 395. The manuscripts transmit different spellings of the name of the city, ‫ מגדל שר‬,‫ מגדל צור‬,‫מגדל צר‬. The fact that this name is not a close homophone of “Strato” has led some authors to identify this city with Beth-Zur, which Simon captured, according to 1 Macc 11:66 and 14:33 (see for example Graetz, Geschichte der Juden, 3:565, and Derenbourg, Essai sur l’histoire et la géographie de la Palestine, 68). However, the fact that the parallel tradition of b. Megillah 6a identifies ‫צר‬/‫ מגדל שר‬with Caesarea, which was built by Herod on the site of Strato’s Tower, has led the majority of commentators to think that it is much more likely that this city should in fact be identified with Caesarea. On this debate and the variants found in the textual tradition, see Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit, 193–195. 196 Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit, 44. See Josephus, J.W. 1.64–66 and Ant. 13.275–283. On the rabbinic sources which refer to the heavenly voice that John Hyrcanus heard while he was officiating in the temple, telling him that his sons had prevailed against Antiochus Cyzicenus (probably when they forced him to retreat to Scythopolis), see § 2.1.4 (infra). 197 Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit, 45: ‫בעשרין וחמשה ביה אחידת שומרון שורא‬. On the issues raised by the words Shomron shura (“Samaria, rampart (or: wall)”) in the Megillah and the interpretation of the capture of Samaria in the scholion (which associates this date with the return from the Babylonian exile), see Noam, ibid., 243–249. Scholion P uses the phrase ‫שומרון רבה‬, “Samaria the great” in its commentary. 198 See Y. Gutman, “Alexander the Macedonian in Eretz-Israel,” Tarbiz 11 (1939–40): 271– 294, esp. 279–282 (Heb.); Noam, “Megillat Taanit–The Scroll of Fasting,” 345. 199 Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit, 48 : ‫קמו עממיה על פליטת ספריה במדינת כלבוס בבית זבדי והוה פו־‬ ‫רקין‬.

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case, there is no good reason to think that this date refers to a military expedition that Jannaeus undertook in the valley of the Beqa‘. The Babylonian Talmud, b. Megillah 6a mentions Jannaeus’ capture of Strato’s Tower in similar terms as Megillat Ta‘anit and scholion O (scholion P has less to say on this matter). The following lines from the Talmud relate Rabbi Abbahu’s application of Zeph 2:4, “Ekron shall be uprooted (‫ ”)עקרון תעקר‬to Caesarea, daughter of Edom, who is seated among the dunes, and who used to be a thorn in Israel’s side at the time of the Greeks. And when the kings from the Hasmonean dynasty became strong and seized it, they called it the capture of the Tower of Shir/Tzur.200

The rest of the text concerns Caesarea and Edom more widely (i. e. Rome, whose circuses and theatres are destined to become places for the study of the Torah), and contrasts the fate of Caesarea-Rome with that of Jerusalem.201 In other words, there is no further mention of the Hasmoneans in the Talmudic text after this allusion to the victory over Strato’s Tower. The text presents Jannaeus’ conquest of Strato’s Tower in a very positive light. However, this reference still illustrates the tendency of the rabbinic texts to portray the Hasmoneans as the dynasty that liberated Judea from under the Greek yoke. In other words, even though the text alludes to a war of conquest, it somehow creates the impression that it was in fact defensive. In scholion O of Megillat Ta‘anit, the passage ends on a slightly different note: “And when the hand (of the) Hasmonean (dynasty) became strong, they threw them out from there and settled Israel in it.”202 Notions of conquest and expansion are clearer in this last version.

200 The translation is mine. The last words may also be read as Migdal Sar, “Tower of (the) Prince”. The manuscripts have preserved several lessons on the name of the city in the Hellenistic period, including Migdal Tzur (“Tower of Tyre”) in MSS Munich and Vaticanus 134. Some passages and some commentators (starting with the Arukh, a Hebrew and Aramaic Talmud lexicon dating from 1101) privilege the version Migdal Shed, i. e. “Tower of the Demon,” which could be a reference either to the local population’s idolatrous practices, or to the state of the city following its conquest by Jannaeus. Other sources (such as Sifre Deuteronomy 51) have the version Migdal Sharshan or Sharshon, which has often been identified with Straton. In any case, the identification of this city with Caesarea suggests that Migdal Tzur (or any other variation on this name) should be identified with the Tower of Straton. See H. Hildesheim, Beiträge zur Geographie Palästinas: Jahres-Bericht des Rabbiner-Seminars zu Berlin pro 5645 (1884–1885) (Berlin: M. Driesner, 1884), 4–10; A. Neubauer, La géographie du Talmud (Paris: Michel Lévy Frères, 1867), 11–15, 91–92; G. Reeg, Die Ortsnamen Israels nach der rabbinischen Literatur (Wiesbaden: Ludwig Reichert Verlag, 1989), 395–396 (on Migdal Sharshan), 563–568 (on Caesarea); Stemberger, “The Maccabees in Rabbinic Tradition,” 199. 201 In fact, after the war of 66–70 and the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple, Titus established the seat of Roman power in Caesarea. 202 See Noam, Megillat Ta‘anit, 68: ‫וכשגברה יד חשמונאי הוציאום משם והושיבו בה ישראל‬. The translation is mine.

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Scholion O provides the same commentary for the capture of Beth-Shean and the valley (15–16 Sivan, line 10), as for that of Strato’s Tower: Beth-Shean had also been “thrust” into Israel (i. e. like a stake or thorn), and the Hasmoneans exiled the population of Beth-Shean as soon as they became strong enough to get rid of them. The rest of the passage seems to be about Rome, rather than the Greeks: at the news of the judgement passed by the mountain of Zion on the mountain of Esau, the Jews rejoiced to know that the wicked kingdom had disappeared from the face of the earth.203 As for scholion P, it merely states that the local population had not initially said that they would go into exile, and that when they eventually decided on this course of action, the Hasmoneans pounced on them, forcing them into exile. This commentary calls to mind the policy of John Hyrcanus, when he offered the Idumeans the choice to either go on voluntary exile or accept to be circumcised and placed under the authority of the Jewish laws – or else face death. In short, out of four dates which refer (or may refer) to the celebration of the victories that the Hasmoneans won following their wars of conquest, only two are associated with the dynasty in all the different versions of the scholion, while the other two are associated with events predating the Hasmonean period in these commentaries. Vered Noam associates Megillat Ta‘anit with rabbinic Judaism, even if she dates it from the first century C.E. Eyal Regev considers this text to be representative of the “people,” probably because Josephus claims that the Pharisees enjoyed great popularity from the end of the second century B.C.E. onwards, and because of the close association between the Pharisees and the rabbinic tradition.204 However, Regev neglects to take into account the methodological issues raised by the fact that scholars working on rabbinic circles have shown that it was perhaps not before the fourth or even the fifth centuries C.E. that the rabbis managed to establish their hold on the Palestinian Jewish community.205 Considering that the movement which eventually became rabbinic Judaism only had a limited influence over Judean society in the first century C.E., the notion that the writings of the movement were representative of popular opinion seems difficult to justify. (Indeed, we owe this notion to Josephus, who, as is well-known, was heavily biased in favour

203 On the identification of Esau with Rome, see in particular Gershon Cohen, “Esau as Symbol in Early Medieval Thought,” in Jewish Medieval and Renaissance Studies (ed. A. Altmann; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 19–48. 204 Regev, The Hasmoneans, 268, 270–271. Regev writes concerning Megillat Ta‘anit: “Significantly, the most extensive and authoritative text which reflects the ancient Jewish collective memory views the Hasmoneans as those who saved their own people and prescribes that every Jew should remember their victories for generations” (p. 270). He also speaks of “popular re­ collection” in connection with the Megillah. 205 See in particular Seth Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society 200 B.C.E. to 640 C.E.; Hayim Lapin, Rabbis as Romans: The Rabbinic Movement in Palestine, 100–400 C.E. (Oxford– New York: Oxford University Press, 2012).

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of the Pharisees).206 It is thus not clear whether Megillat Ta‘anit provides us with a catalogue of festive traditions and practices that were widespread at the time of its redaction, or whether it merely seeks to impose a certain number of practices, or even to relay pro-Hasmonean propaganda.207 Whatever the case may be, the Megillah certainly does provide us with precious insights on the proto-rabbinic circles of the first century, and shows that some of the Hasmonean military victories that they commemorated were in fact associated with Hasmonean wars of conquest, and not merely wars of liberation.

2.1.2 Beyond Megillat Ta‘anit: the memory of the wars of liberation in the rest of rabbinic literature Although the rabbinic texts do occasionally voice criticisms of some of the members of the Hasmonean dynasty, they nevertheless transmit a globally positive memory of the dynasty, because, in their perspective, the Hasmoneans were first and foremost the liberators of Judea from under the Greek yoke.208 In Genesis Rabbah, the different empires against which Israel clashed during its history are each associated with a son of Jacob who has or will defeat that empire. Levi is associated with the kingdom of Greece, for reasons such as: Levi was Jacob’s third son and Greece the third empire; both of their names are composed of three letters (‫יון‬ in the case of Greece, ‫ לוי‬in Levi’s); etc. However, this association is mostly motivated by the fact that the kingdom of Greece will fall under the blows of Levi’s descendants, the Hasmoneans: The latter [the Greeks] are many in [terms of] population while the former [Israel] are but few in [terms of] population, yet the many came and fell by the hands of the few. By what merit? It was the result of Moses’ blessing, who said: Smite through the loins of them that rise up against him (Deut 33:11). By whose hand does the Greek

206 See for example Life 12. In “Les Sadducéens vus par Flavius Josèphe,” Emmanuelle Main analyses Josephus’ writings on both the Sadducees and the Pharisees (esp. 180–190). 207 The halakhic dimension of this list is made clear in the opening line: “Here are the days during which it is forbidden to fast.” See Noam, “Megillat Taanit – The Scroll of Fasting,” 356– 357. 208 See Stemberger, “The Maccabees in Rabbinic Tradition”; Alexander, “From Poetry to Historiography,” 114. Basing her argument on the work of Günter Stemberger, Gabriella Signori writes that “the few Jewish commentaries on the Maccabees mainly focused on the Hasmoneans as freedom fighters. They were also recalled, albeit for the most part indirectly, in sermons for Chanukah, among others the Pesikta Rabbati. Jewish liturgical poetry, we are informed, also only vaguely refers to the events, with exception of a 12th century Ashkenazic piyyut. The Book of Judith was more important for the Chanukah feast, Jewish writing tying together that narrative complex with the Hasmonean narrative” (Dying for the Faith, Killing for the Faith, 9).

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kingdom fall? By the hand of the Hasmoneans, who are from [the tribe] of Levi (‫( )ביד בני חשמנאי שהם משל לוי‬Gen. R. 99.2, ed. Theodor-Albeck, 1274).209

Somewhat similarly, a baraita mentioned in Megillah 11a of the Babylonian Talmud, interprets Lev 26:44 (“I will not spurn them, or abhor them so as to destroy them utterly and break my covenant with them”) in light of God’s salvation of Israel from various empires and foes: I have not rejected them – in the days of the Chaldeans, when I raised up for them Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah; neither did I abhor them – in the days of the Greeks, when I raised up for them Simeon the Righteous and Hasmonai and his sons, and Mattathias the High Priest; to destroy them utterly – in the days of Haman, when I raised up for them Mordecai and Esther (etc.).” (b. Megillah 11a)210

There are several variants in the manuscripts on the passage bearing on the Hellenistic period: some of them include the oddly specific phrase “Mattathias son of John (Yoh ․anan), high priest” (see Vaticanus 134 for example), while others ignore the curious distinction, in the lines quoted above, between Mattathias and the “Hasmonai” (see ms Munich for example).211 In spite of these discrepancies, both the Talmudic treatise and Genesis Rabbah  suggest that it was through the Hasmoneans (as well as Simeon the Righteous, according to some manuscripts of b. Megillah 11a) that God saved Israel from the Greeks. In the context of a discussion of the reference in Megillat Ta‘anit to the “[day of] Nicanor” (13 Adar) as a day on which it is forbidden to fast, both the Jerusalem Talmud and the Babylonian Talmud recall the victory of Judas against Nicanor, whilst referring to the Hasmoneans in general. The Jerusalem Talmud answers the question “What is Nicanor’s Day?” with the following narrative: An officer of the Kingdom of Greece was on his way to Alexandria. He saw Jerusalem and broke out into cursing, execration and insult, saying: “When I come back whole, I shall break down that tower.” One of the members of the Hasmonaean household (‫ )אחד משלבית חשמוניי‬went forth and killed his soldiers until he reached his carriage. And when he reached his carriage, he cut off his hand and chopped off his head and stuck them on a pole, and wrote underneath them: “[Here is] the mouth that spoke shamefully and the hand that stretched out arrogantly.” These he set up on a pike in sight of Jerusalem. (y. Ta‘anit 2:8 [66a]; // y. Megillah 1:3 [70c])212 209 The translation is mine, based on the edition of Theodor and Albeck and inspired from the translation of H. Freedman in Midrash Rabbah: Genesis (London: Soncino Press, 1961), 2:974. 210 Trans. I. Epstein, The Babylonian Talmud: Seder Mo‘ed (London: Soncino Press, 1938), 4:61–62. 211 See Stemberger, “The Maccabees in Rabbinic Tradition,” 200. 212 Translation based on that of J. Neusner, The Jerusalem Talmud, modified in accordance with ms Leiden, consulted on the website of the Academy of the Hebrew Language (Ma’agarim). See also b. Ta‘anit 18b, which relates the same anecdotes but uses the phrase “the kingship of

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Several other passages discuss the liberation of Judea from the Greeks in the context of the festival of Hanukkah.213 In b. Shabbat 21b, a quotation of the passage from Megillat Ta‘anit which states that “(On) the 25th of Kislev, the days of Hanukkah (start), eight (days during which) it is forbidden to lament for a dead person or to fast” prompts the following reminder: For when the Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all the oils therein, and when the Hasmonean dynasty [lit. the kingship of the Hasmonean dynasty, ‫]מלכות בית חשמונאי‬ prevailed against and defeated them, they made search and found only one cruse of oil which lay with the seal of the High Priest, but which contained sufficient for one day’s lighting only; yet a miracle was wrought therein and they lit [the lamp] therewith for eight days.214

In fact, several rabbinic texts mention the victory that the Hasmoneans – often described as a royal dynasty – wrestled from the Greeks. However, on the few occasions when they ponder the events which led to this victory, they tend to associate them with the high deeds of Judas and his brothers (Nicanor’s punishment, the purification of the sanctuary, etc.). In fact, there seems to be a perceptible, if implicit, contrast between the references which the rabbinic texts make to the wars of liberation that Mattathias and his sons waged against the Seleucids (i. e. the “Greeks”), often celebrating them in connection with Hanukkah; and their silence on the wars of conquest that were waged by Simon, John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus I, and Alexander Jannaeus. To the best of my knowledge, the only exceptions to this general rule are found in Megillat Ta‘anit (which commemorates the dates of the victories of John Hyrcanus and his successors, as we previously saw) and its scholion (which comments on some of these dates), as well as in a few passages of the Babylonian Talmud, especially Megillah 6a, b. Qiddushin 66a and b. Gittin 57a, which contain vague allusions to the many cities that Alexander Jannaeus conquered.

2.1.3 On some of the echoes of Jannaeus’ conquests in the Babylonian Talmud Although the majority of the rabbinic texts which discuss Alexander Jannaeus tend to be critical of him, the extraordinary prosperity of his kingdom is mentioned in a very small number of rather fanciful passages. In b. Berakhot 44a, R. Dimi writes that king Jannaeus owned a city in the area of the “King’s Mountain,” which prothe Hasmonean dynasty” (‫)מלכות בית חשמונאי‬. ‎Compare with 1 Macc 7:26–35.43–47; 2 Macc 14:12–34 and 15:28–33; Josephus, Ant. 12.406–412. 213 See Noam, “The Miracle of the Cruse of Oil”. 214 Trans. I. Epstein, The Babylonian Talmud: Seder Mo‘ed (London: Soncino Press, 1938), 1:92–93.

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vided the workers who cut down the fig trees with 60,000 baskets of salted fish from the end of one Sabbath to another. As for Rabin, he claims that every month, 40 seahs of youngs pigeons from three broods were collected on the cedar tree that Jannaeus owned in the “King’s Mountain.” In b. Gittin 57a, which is from a related tradition, it is said that Jannaeus owned 60,000 cities on the “King’s Mountain,” and that the number of people in each one of these cities was as great as the number of people who had left Egypt during the Exodus. Even if these texts are clearly legendary, with their far-fetched figures, they nevertheless reflect the notion that Judea was extremely prosperous and populous under Jannaeus. There is a clearer reference to the conquests of Jannaeus in b. Qiddushin 66a. This work describes the king’s joyful return from the Transjordan, where he had captured sixty cities, and his decision to celebrate his victories with a feast, to which he invited the Sages (see infra, § 2.2.1). Joshua Efron reads this figure (“sixty”) in light of Deut 3:4: “At that time we captured all his towns; there was no citadel that we did not take from them – sixty towns, the whole region of Argob, the kingdom of Og in Bashan.”215 This is an account of the victories that Israel wrestled – even before marching into Canaan – from Sihon and Og, the kings of the Amorites, whose kingdoms were located in the Transjordan, “from the Wadi Arnon to Mount Hermon”. According to Efron, the rabbinic text uses this figure (“sixty”) in order to create a parallel between Jannaeus’ successes in the Transjordan and the battles that once took place in this region, before the conquest of Canaan. If we accept this analysis, and follow Vered Noam, who argues that the baraita of b. Qiddushin 66a goes back to a Pharisaic source, this could suggest that the association between Jannaeus’ wars and Israel’s wars before the conquest, had already been made when Jannaeus was in power and reflected the approbation that his wars met with at the time. Indeed, this could also suggest that these wars were implicitly perceived in light of the biblical model of the conquest, broadened to include the wars that immediately preceded the conquest of Canaan (since the Amorites were Canaanites). However, Vered Noam warns us against historical overinterpretations of this narrative. This call for caution seems all the more well-advised, when we consider that the reading I have just outlined is entirely based on the use of the figure “sixty” in both the biblical and the talmudic texts in question. Although interesting, this interpretation remains highly speculative. It was also during a feast celebrating the king’s victorious return from the Transjordan that relations between the Pharisees and Jannaeus broke down, unleashing a bloodbath. As Albert Baumgarten emphasizes, reading between the lines, the fact that the text mentions that they dined on gold plates suggests a certain degree of criticism of the Hasmonean leader (and the Sages). The gold dishes, which the king must have requested in order to make his triumph manifest, made his hubris

215 Efron, “Simeon ben Shatah. and Alexander Jannaeus,” 178.

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clear.216 The text implicitly associates Jannaeus’ conquests with the crisis which disrupted the feast, and this does not help to cast them in a positive light. At the most, we can say that Jannaeus’ wars have a minor, or indeed anecdotal, role to play in the Babylonian Talmud. What conclusion can we draw from all this? The Sages may have considered that entertaining the memory of the Hasmonean wars of conquest involved a political risk, at a time when the desire for political autonomy had led to several Jewish uprisings against Rome, with disastrous consequences for the people of Israel. This is what Philip Alexander writes (speaking of the festival of Hanukkah): The Rabbis also seem to have sensed its potential glorification of militarism when they prescribed as the Haftarah for the first Shabbat of the festival Zech. 2.14–4.7, which ends with the warning, ‘Not by might nor by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of Hosts’ – a warning, as we have seen, echoed in our Targum. Classical rabbinic interpretation of the festival has tended to stress its spiritual message, centred around the symbolism of light and oil.217

Indeed, even if the rabbinic codification of the festival of Hanukkah does not pass under silence the Hasmoneans’ heroic liberation of the temple, it nevertheless does not emphasize their noble deeds so much as the miracle.218 The relative lack of interest that the rabbinic sources show for the political and military successes of the Hasmoneans (beyond their liberation of Judea from under the Greek yoke) may also be understood in light of the Sages’ lack of interest for history, more widely. Finally, it is possible that the Sages had mixed feelings about the Hasmonean period, because the dynasty was short-lived and came to an inglorious end at the hands of the Romans, as a result of the rivalry between Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II. In any case, there would not be another text enthusiastically endorsing the Hasmonean military conquests until the early Middle Ages (this renewed interest in the dynasty may have been linked with the fact that this moment in time coincided with a spike in the popularity of the festival of Hanukkah and the Jewish traditions dating back to the Second Temple period).219 The Sefer Yosippon is 216 Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” 51. 217 Alexander, “From Poetry to Historiography,” 117. See also Rappaport, The First Book of Maccabees, 73–74. As I already mentioned, this explanation prompts more reservations from Günter Stemberger (“The Maccabees in Rabbinic Tradition,” 201–202). 218 Cf. Noam, “The Miracle of the Cruse of Oil,” 193. 219 See Alexander, “From Poetry to Historiography,” 117–121. Philip Alexander explains that the 7th and 8th centuries C.E. coincided with a resurgence of Jewish messianism and apocalyptic literature, and with the rediscovery of the Jewish literature of the Second Temple period. This is clear in Megillat Antiochus, which has Babylonian origins: however, this text does not mention the Hasmonean conquests, but focuses only on the event leading to the purification of the temple. Philip Alexander also mentions a passage of the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Deut 33:11, which includes a prayer asking God to destroy the enemies of the high priest John

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one such text. However, as Günter Stemberger observes, it is not indifferent that the Sefer Yosippon draws directly on the work of Flavius Josephus and indirectly on the Books of Maccabees, i. e. Jewish works that were copied and transmitted by Christians, rather than the rabbinic tradition.220

2.1.4 The implications of John Hyrcanus’ gift of prophecy

Let us now turn to another, more indirect, tradition: this is the tradition focusing on John Hyrcanus’ gift of prophecy. Several Palestinian and Babylonian sources (Tosefta Sotah 13:5; y. Sotah 9:12 [24b]; b. Sotah 33) tell us the story of how “John (Yohanan) the high priest” heard a voice in the holy of holies, announcing the victory (of his sons who were waging war against Antiochus Cyzicenus). Granted, the rabbinic texts do not mention the war itself; they focus instead on Hyrcanus’ gift of prophecy, or rather on the privilege that was granted to the high priest when he heard a voice from heaven (bat qol), as the rabbis called it (prophecy properly speaking being the dominion of the last biblical prophets in their view). Nevertheless, a comparison with the Qumran scrolls (4QTestimonia, for example) shows that if the Sages had disapproved of the wars waged by John Hyrcanus and his sons, and considered that they had been bad for Israel, they would have rejected the Hasmonean leader’s claim to have heard a heavenly voice. Let us not forget that in the Apocryphon of Joshua, the actions of the “man of Belial” and his sons are described in terms inspired from biblical passages on false prophets, and that this is a recurrent theme in the Qumran texts. There is nothing comparable in the rabbinic tradition: indeed, it exonerates Hyrcanus from any responsibility for the

(Hyrcanus). Alexander estimates that this prayer was introduced in the Targum at the time of the rediscovery of the Jewish traditions of the Second Temple period, during the post-talmudic period, perhaps in connection with a new conflict between the Jews and the Samaritans in the 7th century (Alexander, ibid., 119–121). On the resurgence of apocalyptic literature and the rediscovery of the Jewish traditions of the Second Temple period, see also Philip S. Alexander, “The King Messiah in Rabbinic Judaism,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East (ed. J. Day; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 456–473. Some works produced between the 6th and the 8th centuries (such as Pesiqta Rabbati) are extremely favourable to the Hasmoneans and promote the festival of Hanukkah. As for the Targum of Canticles, another work casting the Hasmoneans in a favourable light, Philip Alexander proposes to date it to shortly after 640, which is when Palestine, Syria and Babylonia passed under Muslim control. More recently, however, he has pronounced himself in favour of dating it to the 8th century (see Philip S. Alexander, The Targum of Canticles: Translated, with a Critical Introduction, Apparatus, and Notes [Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 2003], 55–58). 220 See Stemberger, “The Maccabees in Rabbinic Tradition,” 202–203. Beyond the case of the Sefer Yosippon, he notes that post-talmudic works drew on external sources that may have been partly Christian. David Flusser has shown that the bravery and heroism of Judas Maccabeus and his brothers are prominent motifs in Jewish medieval texts (“The Memory of the Maccabees among Medieval Jews,” Cathedra 75 [1995]: 36–54 [Heb.]).

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break with the Pharisees, and points the finger at Alexander Jannaeus instead.221 Moreover, for the rabbis, the decision to wage a “permitted war” (milh ․emet reshut) ideally had to be taken by a court (beit din) of 71 members, as we have seen. We can a priori conclude from this that they did not consider that Hyrcanus’ gift of prophecy left him free to do as he pleased on the battlefield. However, the rabbinic tradition does not seem to include any criticism of the wars of Hyrcanus, contrary to certain Qumran texts.

2.2 The critique of the accumulation of powers and the attempt to control the exercise of royal power In order to complete our analysis of the rabbinic perception of the Hasmonean wars of conquest, let us now turn to the question of the legitimacy of the Hasmoneans’ claim to the kingship, and to the conditions which the rabbinic sources – like the Qumran scrolls – placed on the exercise of royal power and the king’s right to wage wars.

2.2.1 The critique of the accumulation of powers

According to several scholars, the Sages challenged the legitimacy of the Hasmoneans’ claim to the kingship. Let us not forget that according to Josephus in Ant. 14.41, at the time of Pompey’s conquest of Judea, part of the people did not wish to be ruled by a king, but only by priests, and indeed considered that the regime introduced by the Hasmoneans was a form of servitude. According to some scholars, this “popular opinion” in fact reflected the views of the Pharisees, who, according to Josephus, were very influential on the people. The key text, for our purposes here, is the account of the conflict between Alexander Jannaeus and the Sages in b. Qiddushin 66a, a narrative long identified as a baraita222 – i. e. an ancient source going back to the Tannaim – which was later integrated into the Babylonian Talmud, and which has often invited comparisons with Flavius Josephus’ parallel account of this episode in Antiquities (where the Hasmonean at the centre of this dispute is John Hyrcanus).223 In a recent study, Vered Noam goes further, concluding that 221 See the discussion below on b. Qiddushin 66a, § 2.2.1. 222 See Richard Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society (New York: Routledge, 1999), 137, n. 15; Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition,” 48. 223 See Ant. 13.289–296. Most commentators consider that Josephus’ account of this epi­ sode is more reliable, and that this conflict dates from the reign of John Hyrcanus; see Efron, “Simeon ben Shatah. and Alexander Jannaeus,” 180 and 183; S. J. D. Cohen, “Parallel Historical Tradition in Josephus and Rabbinic Literature,” in Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies, B1 (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1986), 7–14 and esp. 9 (Josephus’

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The Jannaeus legend in b. Qiddušin has in all probability preserved a rare piece of a Pharisaic polemical work, as evidenced both by its style and content. Its unique mixed Hebrew, a random, artificial mosaic of biblical vocabulary and syntax in a later linguistic substratum typical of the Jewish literature of the Second Commonwealth, is unattested in later rabbinic literature.224

In other words, in her view this text is not merely a baraita, but a source dating back to the first century B.C.E. According to the Babylonian Talmud, king Alexander Jannaeus was filled with joy on his return from a victorious military expedition against Koh ․alit, in the desert,225 where he had seized sixty cities, and thus decided to invite the Sages of Israel (i. e. the Pharisees) to a feast. He invited them to eat desert plants (meluh ․im), in memory of their ancestors who ate this pauper’s dish when they were building the second temple, after their return from exile.226 However, as Albert Baumgarten rightly observes, the fact that he served them this dish in gold plates exhibited the king’s wish to draw attention to his own victories, power and wealth, in contrast with the humble beginnings of the Second Temple period.227 The account of the episode continues as follows: Now, there was a man there, frivolous, evil, and a scoundrel, named Eleazar son of Po‘irah (‫)והיה שם אדם אחד לץ רע ובליעל ואלעזר בן פוערא שמו‬. Said Eleazar son of Po‘irah account is used as a “control” for the Talmud); Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” p. 46, n. 116. Vered Noam tends to give more credence to the historical value of the tradition described in the Talmud and advises against systematically favouring Josephus’ account (“The Story of King Jannaeus (b. Qiddušin 66a): A Pharisaic Reply to Sectarian Polemic,” HTR 107/1 [2014]: 31–58; see n. 127). Markham J. Geller privileges the version of the Talmud and considers that the conflict with the Pharisees occurred under Jannaeus (“Alexander Jannaeus and the Phari­see Rift,” JJS 30/2 [1979]: 202–211). Similarly, Emmanuelle Main concludes that the episode of the feast should be dated to the reign of Jannaeus (“Les Sadducéens vus par Flavius Josèphe,” RB 97/2 [1990]: 161–206; see 201). The Babylonian Talmud (b. Berakhot 29a) includes a discussion of whether Hyrcanus and Jannaeus were one and the same person or two different individuals; the first opinion is defended by Abaye, who also reports the breakdown of the relationship between Jannaeus and the Pharisees in b. Qiddushin 66a. 224 Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” 57. On the archaic Hebrew of the baraita, and the idea that b. Qiddushin 66a includes a fragment of an ancient work written in a language intermixing the Hebrew of the Bible and that of the Mishnah, see already M. H. Segal, A Grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927), 72. 225 On the various attempts to locate Koh. alit, see Efron, “Simeon ben Shatah. and Alexander Jannaeus,” 178. According to Efron, the word Koh. alit is a hybrid of ezov koh. ali and ezov midbari (blue hyssop and desert hyssop), and also occurs in the rabbinic texts (in m. Nega‘im 14:6 for example). He concludes that “Even assuming that this obscure passage contains fragmentary references to Jannaeus’ campaigns in Transjordan, no original, definite or clear information can be deduced from it” (p. 178). 226 Rashi sets this allusion to a desert plant in parallel with Job 30:4. The probable pun with melah. im, “rags” (Jer 38:11–12), further increases the contrast with the gold plates. 227 Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” 47.

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to King Yannai, “O King Yannai, the hearts of the Pharisees are against thee.” “Then what shall I do?” He said to him, “Make them swear by the plate [‫ציץ‬, tzitz] between your eyes.”228 [So] he made them swear by the plate between his eyes. Now, an elder ]‫[זקן אחד‬, named Yehudah son of Gudgeda,229 was present there. Said he to King Yannai, “O King Yannai! Let the royal crown suffice thee, and leave the crown of priesthood to the seed of Aaron [‫]רב לך כתר מלכות הנח כתר כהונה לזרעו של אהרון‬.” For it was rumoured that his mother had been taken captive in Modi‘im. [Accordingly,] the matter was investigated, but not sustained, and the sages of Israel separated themselves in anger. Then said Eleazar son of Po‘irah to King Yannai: “O King Yannai! That is the law even for a commoner in Israel, and thou, a king and a high priest, shall that be thy law [too]?” “Then what shall I do?” He told him, “If thou wilt take my advice, trample them down.” “But what shall happen with the Torah?” “Behold, it is bound up and lying in the corner, whoever wishes to study, let him come and study…” Straightway, the evil burst forth through Eleazar son of Po‘irah and through Yehudah son of Gudgeda.230 All the Sages of Israel were massacred, and the world was desolate until Simeon son of Shetah came and restored the Torah to its pristine [glory]. (trans. V. Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” 33–34)

This bloody episode implicates two figures, Eleazar son of Po‘irah (‫ )פוערא‬and Yehudah son of Gudgeda or Guedidyah (‫)גדידיה‬, whose names are significant: Eleazar is the man who digs a trench (‫ )פער‬dividing Israel (by sowing suspicion and attempting to turn the king against the Pharisees) and Yehudah is the one who polarizes Israel into antagonistic camps (‫גדד‬, in singular).231 According to Josephus’ parallel narrative, which features Hyrcanus instead of Jannaeus, it is Eleazar, one of the Pharisees invited to the feast, who advises Hyrcanus to give up the high priesthood and tells him that his mother was rumoured to have been held in captivity under Antiochus Epiphanes (Ant. 13.292). This story is revealed to be untrue 228 See Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” p. 33, n. 11: “According to Krochmal, Eleazar advised Jannaeus to make the Pharisees swear by the ‫ציץ‬, the golden plate that the high priest used to wear on his forehead, that they accepted his dual authority as king and high priest (although Jannaeus was not wearing it at the feast, outside the Temple). Eleazar believed that they would refuse to swear, thus proving their disloyalty. Swearing by the Temple worship, by the high priest’s clothes, and especially by the Tetragrammaton engraved on the ‫ציץ‬, was a common Jewish practice”. 229 On the many variants of this name in the manuscripts, see Noam, ibid., p. 33, n. 13. 230 The name “Yehudah son of Gudgeda” is missing in the printed edition of the Talmud, but is attested in the manuscripts (V, O, M, SP), in a fragment of the Genizah and in the medieval quotations of the Talmud; see Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” 43. 231 See Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” 45. These two figures can also be set in parallel with two other characters from the Talmud of Jerusalem, which bear the same name (Eleazar b. Peh. ora and Yehudah b. Peh. ora) and are also cast in a negative light (y. Sotah 9 [24a]; see Efron, “Simeon ben Shatah.,” 179).

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and the Pharisees are shocked at Eleazar’s behaviour – in other words, they do not endorse it.232 A second character, a Sadducee called Jonathan, intervenes after the feast, maligning the Pharisees to John Hyrcanus, and suggesting that he ask them what punishment to inflict on Eleazar. He then proceeds to convince Hyrcanus that the Pharisees are encouraging him to show excessive leniency towards Eleazar because they are disloyal to him, persuading the high priest to rally the party of the Sadducees (§§ 293–296). In other words, Josephus does not mention that the Pharisees were massacred following the breakdown of their relationship with Hyrcanus (in his account, the massacre occurs under Jannaeus). Moreover, were it not for Josephus, it would not be clear why the talmudic text discusses the judgement passed on a “commoner in Israel” and the king: the issue at stake is slander, and how to inflict a punishment that is proportional to the seriousness of the affront and the status of the person insulted. This element of the narrative seems to have been omitted by error from the rabbinic text. We may observe in passing that the talmudic narrative – which mentions “the royal crown” (unlike Josephus) – makes more sense under Alexander Jannaeus than John Hyrcanus, even if the version that Josephus transmitted shows that a Hasmonean leader could conceivably be reproached for laying claim to both political power and priestly functions, independently of the royal title.233 As I mentioned previously, several commentators consider that this rabbinic text questions Jannaeus’ claim to the kingship. Thus, Albert Baumgarten observes that “… the Sages were silent when Yannai’s right to serve as king was disputed.”234 Similarly, Daniel Schwartz concludes that “The sources cited above indicate opposition to the Hasmoneans because they took the royal title.”235 And yet, as Markham Geller rightly observes, both the rabbinic text and Josephus explicitly state that the problem lay with the Hasmoneans’ claim to the high priesthood: thus, in b. Qiddushin 66a, the kingship is what they should be content with, not what they should give up.236 If scholars have tended to focus on their claims to the kingship, this is probably because they have been influenced by the Psalms of Solomon, which we discussed earlier, and by the fact that the title of king has been rubbed off the surface of certain coins minted by Alexander Jannaeus, so that all 232 In the rabbinic narrative, the Yehudah son of Gudgeda who tells Jannaeus that he should give up the high priesthood, corresponds on this point to the wicked Pharisee who is called Eleazar in Josephus’ narrative. 233 For a table summarizing the differences between the accounts of this episode in Josephus and this passage from the Talmud, see Main, “Les Sadducéens vus par Flavius Josèphe,” 197. 234 Ibid., 40. 235 Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition,” 53. 236 Geller aptly sums up his comparison of the accounts of this episode in the Talmud and the work of Josephus with the following sentence: “The distinction between the two accounts is that Jannaeus is asked to be content with kingship, while Hyrcanus is asked to be content with ruling as archon” (“Alexander Jannaeus and the Pharisee Rift,” 207).

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that remains are the words “Jonathan high priest” – this has been interpreted as an attempt by the king to subdue those of his critics who resented the fact that he had taken the title of king.237 However, Christian-Georges Schwentzel observes that bilingual Greek and Aramaic coins, which are engraved with the word basileus on one side and mlk on the other – both of which mean “king” –, date from the end of Jannaeus’ reign. On the level of their representation of power, these coins suggest that the Hasmonean ruler chose to present himself as king, leaving aside his title as high priest. Should we conclude from this that Jannaeus used coins to communicate with and mollify an opposition party, whose views were close to those expressed in b. Qiddushin 66a?238 Whatever the case may be, it is clear that Jannaeus held on to both the kingship and the high priesthood until his death. Daniel Schwartz believes that the Pharisees opposed Jannaeus’ claim to the kingship. However, according to him, the Pharisees refused to endorse the Hasmoneans’ claim not because they were not descended from David, but rather because the Hasmoneans belonged to the line of Aaron, which meant that they would have held the offices of priest and king at the same time.239 Joshua Efron also considered that it was not necessary to be descended from David in order to be a monarch: “In the talmudic conception, evidently the expectation that the kingdom of David will be re-established does not exclude the formation of a temporary non-Davidic kingdom that may be needed.”240 Those who defend this view often quote a passage from the Tosefta which says that “A sage takes precedence over a king (‫)חכם קודם למלך‬. (If) a sage dies, there is no one to replace him. (But if) a king dies, all Israel are fit for kingship (‫( ”)כל ישראל ראוין למלכות‬Tosefta Horayot 2:8).241 In other words, it does not take any particular qualities to be a king, whereas a sage must by definition be a wise man. But are we to understand from this that any member of Israel – priests included – can become a king? According to Gedalyahu Alon, “there is a distinction between everlasting kingship, which belongs to David, and temporary monarchy, which pertains to all Israel.”242 However, Daniel Schwartz argues that the phrase “all Israel” should be understood to mean “every Israelite,” as opposed to the priests, who were not simple Israelites, because their birth right set them apart from the rest of the people.243 In other words, although it was not necessary to be descended from David in order to become a king, a monarch could absolutely not belong to a sacerdotal line. Daniel Schwartz’s interpretation 237 46–47. 238 239 240 241 242 207. 243

See Meshorer, Ancient Jewish Coinage, 1:132–134; Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition,” See Schwentzel, Juifs et Nabatéens, 68. Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition,” 53. Efron, “Psalms of Solomon,” 234. The translation is mine. See also y. Horayot 3:9 (48b); b. Horayot 13a. Alon, “Did the Jewish People,” 5. See also Will and Orrieux, Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos, Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition,” 49.

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is supported by a baraita in y. Horayot 3:4 (47c), which states that “Priests should not be anointed as kings.”244 Whereas Rabbi Yudan Anthondraya reads this prohibition in light of the prophecy, in Gen 49:10, that “the sceptre shall not depart from Judah” (excluding the priests from the tribe of Levi, as well as Israelites from tribes other than that of Judah), in contrast, Rabbi Hiyya bar Adda argues that it is based on Deut 17:20–18:1 – which says that “the whole tribe of Levi shall have no allotment or inheritance within Israel” (Deut 18:1) – and only excludes priests from the kingship. Thus, some rabbinic sources do show that the accumulation of royal and priestly powers was frowned upon, even if in b. Qiddushin 66a, Jannaeus is not asked to withdraw from the throne but the high priesthood, contradicting the tradition represented in y. Horayot 3:4 (47c).245 Beyond the rather implausible reference which b. Qiddushin 66a makes – only to refute it explicitly – to the captivity of the king’s mother, it is possible to think that the king was simply asked to step down from the high priesthood either because he was constantly away waging his wars, or because it was feared that his activities on the battlefield would besmirch the high priesthood. Whatever the case may be, Jannaeus was asked not to lay claim concurrently to royal and priestly powers.246 However, the implications of this episode only become clear when we take into account the identity of Jannaeus’ accusers and the judgment that the text passes on them. Indeed, to do this is to arrive at a somewhat different interpretation. When Yehudah son of Gudgeda asks Jannaeus to step down from the high priesthood, following the lies he spread against Jannaeus’ mother, his request and allegation both meet with the disapproval of the Sages, who withdraw (literally: “separate themselves,” ‫ )ויבדלו‬full of anger (against Yehudah, implicitly). It is worth observing that Yehudah is presented as “an old man,” ‫זקן אחד‬, and that this is the phrase that is used in b. Menahot 64b to describe the man versed in the wisdom of the Greeks who suggested hoisting a pig inside a basket during the siege of Jerusalem. Although this verbal echo could be a coincidence, it certainly excludes the possibility that this phrase might connote respect for the supposed wisdom of the elder. 244 See also y. Sotah 8:3 (22c); y. Shekalim 6:1 (49d); Schwartz, ibid., 50–51. 245 Indeed, the rabbinic sources regularly speak of “the kingship of the Hasmonean dynasty” (‫)מלכות בית חשמונאי‬, which tends to corroborate the notion that they did not so much object to the dynasty’s claim to the kingship, even though they were a family of priests, so much as to their accumulation of powers. 246 Daniel Schwartz concludes that “Opposition to the Hasmonean monarchy should be recognized, not as opposition to Jewish statehood in general, nor even as opposition to pre-messianic (non-Davidic) statehood, but, rather, as opposition to the linkage of religion and state, a linkage which, if preserved, would have brought the former down with the latter” (ibid., 56). However, the text of b. Qiddushin 66a neither supports nor invalidates this argument, since the Pharisees distanced themselves from the request that Yehudah son of Gudgeda made to Jannaeus (see the development below).

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Yehudah may be a Pharisee, but this does not stop him being cast in an entirely negative light in the text. Vered Noam has also drawn attention to the biblical background of this text in – or its intertextuality with – the account of the revolt of Korah against Moses and Aaron (Numbers 16), a paradigmatic account in Jewish thought of the schisms that had divided Israel in biblical times.247 This is not to say that the author of the baraita straightforwardly identifies Jannaeus with the two brothers who, in the biblical narrative, jointly hold the offices of political leader and priest. Yehudah’s request, “Let the royal crown suffice thee (‫”)רב לך‬ – which echoes Moses’ answer to the rebels in Num 16:3 or 7248 – even suggests that Jannaeus’ accumulation of powers contradicts the model presented by Moses and Aaron. However, it is Eleazar son of Po‘irah and Yehudah son of Gudgeda who are, each in their own way, cast in the role of Korah, leading to rifts and chaos. As in Numbers, the text may be suggesting that it was wrong of them to challenge the power of those who have been placed by God at the head of Israel, which would imply that Jannaeus’ power is legitimate. However, this argument could only be considered valid in the case of Yehudah: Eleazar son of Po‘irah targets and condemns the Pharisees, who saw themselves as the true heirs of Moses. This suggests that the narrative may in fact be attempting to exonerate both the king and the Sages. As Richard Kalmin emphasizes, although the baraita of b. Qiddushin 66a does relate the massacre of the Pharisees, this version, “in contrast to the Babylonian version described above [b. Berakhot 48a], takes great pains to blame the massacre on Elazar ben Poerah, Yannai’s adviser, and to divert blame away from the king.”249 Indeed, Albert Baumgarten goes as far as to assert that this text is in fact favourable to Alexander Jannaeus, and seeks to exonerate the king from any responsibility in the massacre of the Sages. He reminds us that calling the reputation of your host into question when you were his guest at a feast was a serious breach of ethical norms in the Hellenistic world. Even the fact that the Sages did not explicitly condemn the words of Yehudah son of Gudgeda during the feast could have been held against them, especially since in this text Jannaeus extended his hand in friendship to the Sages and exhibited a concern for the Torah. Indeed, the text’s portrayal of the king was so positive that its Babylonian redactors considered it necessary to insert a commentary (attributed by Abaye to Rav Nahman

247 Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” 40–41. The account of Jannaeus’ confrontation with the Pharisees in the rabbinic text, as well as the parallel account in Josephus, also resort to the familiar topoi of court narratives, in particular the story of Esther. 248 Noam, ibid., 41. 249 Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 63.

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bar Yizhak) explaining that the king was invaded by a spirit of minut, because he had neglected to pay enough attention to the Oral Torah.250 Although the baraita can be read as an attempt to downplay Alexander Jannaeus’ responsibility for the conflict that led to the massacre of the Pharisees, this text nevertheless also takes their defence.251 Indeed, the fact that the baraita – unlike Josephus’ Antiquities – focuses on the way in which the dastardly Eleazar son of Po‘irah impugns the loyalty of the Pharisees, means that the text as a whole can be read as an apology of the Sages, or indeed as an answer to the serious questions raised by the gravity of the split between the Hasmonean dynasty and the Pharisees. According to Vered Noam, the author of the baraita uses the language of the accusations levelled at the Pharisees by their foes (whether these are the Sadducees or others) in order to discredit the latter. Thus Eleazar is described as a “Belial” (translated as “scoundrel” in the sentence “there was a man there, frivolous, evil, and a scoundrel, named Eleazar son of Po‘irah”), recalling the cursed “man of Belial” in the Apocryphon of Joshua, quoted in 4QTestimonia.252 The parallels between b. Qiddushin 66a and the Qumran scrolls critical of the fact that John Hyrcanus and his descendants concurrently held priestly and royal powers raise the possibility that the accumulation of powers may have been a subject of debate in different Judean circles at the time. In conclusion, the fact that the text clearly condemns not only Eleazar son of Po‘irah but also Yehudah son of Gudgeda – i. e. the man who asked Jannaeus to step down from the high priesthood – raises the question of whether his request really reflected the perspective of the Sages. Did they share the critical stance that we find in some Qumran sources, reading between the lines? On the evidence of the baraita of b. Qiddushin 66a alone, the answer to this question is not necessarily positive, as Vered Noam rightly emphasizes.253 It is only when we examine the parallels between this narrative and other texts such as Tosefta Horayot 2:8 and y. Horayot 3:4 (47c) that we can come to the conclusion that the Sages (or at least some of them) did not think that the offices of king and priest should be held conjointly, even if from a rabbinic perspective, this view should not have led to the breakdown of their relationship with the Hasmonean dynasty.

250 Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” 44–45. See Kalmin, ibid., 64: “The harshest criticism of Yannai is attributed to a Babylonian rabbi, Rav Nahman bar Yizhak, once again showing the difference between Babylonian and Palestinian attitudes.” 251 See Baumgarten, “Rabbinic Literature as a Source,” 46. 252 See supra, § 1.1.2; Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” 47–50. 253 Noam, “The Story of King Jannaeus,” 43: “… in contrast to a widely held scholarly ­opinion, our story cannot serve as proof of Pharisaic objections to the dual authority of the Hasmonean rulers”.

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2.2.2 The attempt to control the king’s exercise of power Other rabbinic traditions, which I have mentioned earlier, in connection with the Temple Scroll, do seem to reflect a certain level of criticism of the political and military policies of John Hyrcanus and his successors. As we have already seen, the fact that the wars waged by David in order to extend the territory of his kingdom were considered to fall into the category of the “permitted war” (milh. emet reshut) suggests, a fortiori, that the wars which the Hasmoneans fought in order to enlarge the Judean territory belonged in the same category. There is no indication anywhere that the Pharisees were hostile in principle to the idea of waging a war in order to extend the borders of Judea – indeed, the very notion of milh. emet reshut indicates that the opposite was true. Instead, the rabbinic sources suggest that the Pharisees were concerned with the modalities of the process governing the decision to go to war, i. e. with the question of who had the political authority to take the decision of going to war. The issue at stake is how to control the power of the king, as we also saw in the Temple Scroll. Thus, according to the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 2:4), “[The king] may lead [the people] to a permitted war [only] according to [the decision of] a court (beit din) [composed] of 71 members.”254 A passage in the Babylonian Talmud, b. Sanhedrin 16a, justifies this prescription of the Mishnah with a quotation from Num 27:21, in which Joshua has to stand before Eleazar the priest and ask for the approval of the Urim before going to war. The biblical verse specifies that “At his word they shall go out, and at his word they shall come in, both he and all the Israelites with him, the whole congregation”. According to the Talmud, this “he” stands for the king, the “him” in “all the Israelites with him” stands for the priest anointed for war, and “the whole congregation” stands for the 71 members of the sanhedrin.255 Édouard Will and Claude Orrieux suggest that the rabbinic tradition on the role of the sanhedrin took shape in the Hasmonean context; they argue that the Pharisees were very concerned with establishing their control over the gerousia (i. e. the council mentioned in the Books of the Maccabees) in order to be able to influence some of the king’s decisions.256

2.3 The ambiguity of the Babylonian Talmud As we have already mentioned, aside from Megillat Ta‘anit, the Babylonian Talmud is the only rabbinic source in which the victories of Alexander Jannaeus and the great prosperity of his kingdom are mentioned. Yet it would be misguided to 254 The translation is mine. 255 Cf. y. Sanhedrin 1:5 (17b) which quotes other verses. 256 Will and Orrieux, Ioudaïsmos-Hellènismos, 207, 210. See for example 1 Macc 12:6 and 2 Macc 11:27.

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conclude from this that the Hasmoneans were more warmly remembered by the Babylonian rabbis than by the rabbis of Eretz Israel. Indeed, the opposite seems to have been true.

2.3.1 The presence of anti-Hasmonean revisions in the Babylonian Talmud Several scholars have observed that the Palestinian traditions looked more favourably upon the Hasmoneans that those of the Babylonian Talmud.257 Richard Kalmin, who examines this phenomenon in The Sage in Jewish Society of Late Antiquity,258 argues that the Babylonian Talmud’s anti-Hasmonean stance is associated with the antagonism that existed between the rabbis and a Jewish aristocratic group claiming to have Hasmonean ancestors.259 According to a tradition found in b. Baba Batra 3b, anyone claiming to be descended from the Hasmoneans is a slave in reality. The text provides the following explanation: Herod was a slave who was in the service of the Hasmoneans but rebelled against them and had them all assassinated, apart from a young woman who chose to jump off a roof rather than give any heirs to Herod. In other words, this story contradicted those who said that they were descended from the Hasmoneans. The Babylonian Talmud also mentions another tradition, in b. Qiddushin ­70a-b, according to which a man from Nehardea insulted Rav Yehudah bar Yehezqiel by refusing to be served after him at the butcher’s, on the grounds that he was an aristocrat – or so he claimed –, prompting Rav Yehudah to tell him that he was a slave. When this dispute was brought before Rav Nahman, the man retorted that he could not possibly be a slave since he was descended from the Hasmoneans. In answer to this claim, Rav Yehudah quoted the tradition that we have just mentioned (b. Baba Batra 3b), saying that he held it from (Mar) Samuel, a first-­ generation amora who had been at the head of the rabbinic academy of Nehardea. In the Talmud, Rav Yehudah is vindicated and the text goes on to mention that many marriages were then dissolved (because those who were married to descendants of the Hasmoneans did not wish to be married to slaves). As Richard Kalmin emphasizes, even if this story is rather fanciful, it nevertheless sheds light on the power struggles between the rabbis and other segments of the Babylonian Jewish society.260 Moreover, even if this story does not criticize the Hasmoneans themselves, it casts doubts on the validity of the claims made by those who associate themselves with the dynasty. 257 Alexander, “From Poetry to Historiography,” 113. 258 See in particular Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 61–67 and 136–138. 259 Flavius Josephus, who was born in Judea just a few decades after the fall of the Hasmonean dynasty, claimed to be descended from the Hasmoneans through his mother (Life 2–6). The claims made in the Babylonian Talmud are more surprising. 260 Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 65.

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Let us now examine a few specific examples of the rewriting of earlier traditions from an anti-Hasmonean perspective in Babylonian rabbinic sources.

The chronology of Seder ‘Olam in b. Avodah Zarah 8b–9a

According to Chaim Milikowsky, Seder ‘Olam (Rabbah) is an exegetical commentary which is essentially focused on the chronology of the Bible, and which has a certain number of affinities with rabbinic texts, suggesting that it can be associated with the Sages. He dates it to the end of the first or the beginning of the second centuries C.E.261 Although this work does not discuss the Hasmonean period, its last section (§ 30) includes the following chronological indications: R. Yose said: The kingdom of Persia (lasted for) thirty-four years during (the period) of (the second) temple; the kingdom of Greece (lasted for) one hundred eighty years; the kingdom of the Hasmonean dynasty (‫( )מלכות בית חשמונאי‬lasted for) one hundred and three years; Herod’s kingdom (lasted for) one hundred and three years; from that moment, go and count (from the destruction of the temple262). (my translation, based on the Hebrew text established by Milikowsky, Seder Olam, 1:323)

If, as Chaim Milikowsky contends, the Herodian kingdom (or kingship) lasted until 70 C.E. (rather than 66) and started in 33 B.C.E. (rather than 37), then this means that the kingdom of the Hasmonean dynasty stretched from 136 to 33 B.C.E. (rather than from 140 to 37 B.C.E., although these dates tally better with the data that we have). Interestingly, the author suggests that the Hasmoneans were in power during the period stretching from Pompey’s capture of Jerusalem to the time when Herod seized the city. It is not clear why the author chose to associate the length of these various kingdoms with these particular figures, or why he pairs the Hasmonean and Herodian kingdoms with the same figure. The most we can do is observe that if we add all these figures together, we get a total of 420 years, and that if we add to this total the 70 years which according to the chronology of the Bible elapsed between the destruction of the first temple and the construction of the second, we reach a grand total of 490 years, which is the figure mentioned in Dan 9:24–27 as the interval of time between the destruction of the first and second temples.263 In other words, the frame of reference for this chronology is primarily exegetical. The tradition according to which the kingdom of the Hasmonean dynasty lasted one hundred and three years is also found in the Babylonian Talmud. This 261 Milikowsky, Seder Olam: Critical Edition, Commentary, and Introduction, 1:116–129 (Heb.).  262 The manuscripts ‫( ב‬Milan) and ‫( ל‬Parma) add the words: ‫( לחרבן הבית‬literally “to the destruction of the temple”). 263 See I. Gafni, “Concepts of Periodization and Causality in Talmudic Literature,” Jewish History 10/1 (1996): 21–38 (see p. 37, n. 17).

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is the case, for example, in b. Avodah Zarah 8b–9,264 which opens with the question: What did the kratēsis, mentioned in the Mishnah as an idolatrous festival, celebrate? Answering in the name of Samuel, R. Yehudah states that this festival commemorated the day on which Rome extended its dominion – literally the day on which Rome seized (‫תפס‬, κρατέω) the kingship (‫)יום שתפסה בו רומי מלכות‬. This initial answer is then cast in doubt: should we not establish a distinction between the kratēsis and the day on which Rome extended its dominion? R. Yossef answers that Rome extended its dominion on two separate occasions, during the reign of queen Cleopatra (i. e., after Actium), and during the Hellenistic period. According to R. Dimi, the Romans waged war against the Greeks on several occasions and only managed to defeat them after allying themselves with Israel – i. e. when they had the Torah on their side. Later, the text asserts that the Romans were faithful allies for twenty-six years, before betraying and oppressing Israel (‫עשרין ושית שנין‬ ‫ מכאן ואילך אישתעבדו בהו‬,‫)קמו להו בהימנותייהו בהדי ישראל‬. This prompts the next question: How do we know that the Romans were the faithful allies of Israel for twenty-six years? R. Kahana mentions a tradition that he says was transmitted by R. Ishmael, but originally came from the latter’s father, R. Yose (supposedly the author of Seder ‘Olam). According to this tradition, the wicked kingdom extended (its dominion) over Israel for 180 years before the destruction of the temple (‫)מאה ושמנים שנה קודם שנחרב הבית פשטה מלכות הרשעה על ישראל‬. This means, a priori, that we should date the dominion of Rome over Israel to 110 B.C.E. After a digression on the persecutions that took place under Hadrian, the text returns to this chronological point and reproduces the teaching of Seder ‘Olam on the length of the Persian, Hellenistic, Hasmonean, and Herodian kingdoms. The reliability of this figure of 180 years is then questioned: did the dominion of Rome over Israel not go back to 206 years before the destruction of the temple, i. e. to the very beginning of the kingdom of the Hasmonean dynasty, right at the end of the dominion of the Greeks over Israel? The text answers in the negative, arguing that we have to subtract the twenty-six years during which the Romans were the faithful allies of Israel. Hence the figure of 180. It is possible to consider that the text may represent a distant memory of the alliance between Rome and the Hasmoneans. However, the teaching of this talmudic text is rather odd: it is hard to see what happened circa the year 110 to justify this allusion to Rome’s dominion over Israel. On the contrary, these years coincided with John Hyrcanus’ first territorial conquests, and indeed with Rome’ relative uninvolvement in Judean affairs, until Pompey’ expedition in the East brought this period to an end as we saw in Part II. This incongruity has led Daniel Schwartz to suggest that the tradition attributed to R. Yose, according to which the wicked kingdom extended (its dominion) over Israel 180 years before the destruction of the temple – a teaching which does not mention Rome by name, only a “wicked 264 See also b. Shabbat 15a.

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kingdom” – was originally anti-Hasmonean, and has been misunderstood by the redactors of the final version of the Talmud.265 On a literary level, the connection between this tradition and the tradition on the day when Rome “seized the kingship” could have to do with the similarities of the language used in both, in particular the recurrence of the word malkhut, “kingship” or “kingdom,” and the phonetic echoes between the verbs ‫( תפס‬tafas) and ‫( פשט‬pashat). Most importantly, the phrase “wicked kingdom” is frequently used to refer to Rome in the Babylonian Talmud. According to Daniel Schwartz, this expression was first used with reference to the Hasmoneans after Aristobulus I and Jannaeus were condemned for laying claim to the title of king. However, this was not exactly in the year 110 B.C.E., which leads us to suppose that in this tradition Hyrcanus I already laid claim to the kingship. Daniel Schwartz also reminds us that Joseph Lehmann suggested as early as 1898, in an article published in the Revue des Études Juives, that the “(wicked) kingdom” mentioned in b. Avodah Zarah 9a should be identified with the kingdom of the Hasmoneans.266 However, Lehmann offered a different explanation: according to him, the words “when the evil kingdom extended (its dominion) over Israel” had to be interpreted in a geographical sense, as a reference to the conquest of Idumea and Samaria by John Hyrcanus and his sons. In his article, Lehmann omitted to comment on the qualifier “wicked” (or “wickedness”) next to “kingdom,” and seemed to consider that this tradition initially cast the Hasmoneans in a positive light: in his view, this tradition originally celebrated the extension of the Hasmonean “kingdom,” Judea. He argued that the Babylonian redactor then confused the Hasmonean kingdom, which met with the approbation of the authors of the original tradition, with the “wicked kingdom” – i. e. the Roman empire – and added the adjective “wicked” to a text which had not originally included this word. Either way, these explanations are rather tenuous, because it is difficult to reconstitute an earlier tradition from a talmudic text which in its present state refers to Rome. However, the issue of whether the Babylonian Talmud reproduced an openly anti-Hasmonean tradition at some stage during its redaction remains an open question.

Alexander Jannaeus as the murderer of the Sages

Richard Kalmin mentions several Babylonian texts expressing hostility towards Jannaeus, and portraying him as the murderer of the Sages.267 This tradition immediately brings to mind Josephus’ account of Jannaeus’ massacre of his opponents. 265 Schwartz, “On Pharisaic Opposition to the Hasmonean Monarchy,” 51–53. 266 J. Lehmann, “Quelques dates importantes de la chronologie du 2e Temple, à propos d’une page du Talmud (Aboda Zara, 8b),” REJ 37 [73] (1898): 1–44 (esp. 6). 267 See also J. Efron, “Simeon ben Shatah. and Alexander Jannaeus,” in Studies in the Hasmonean Period, 143–218 (esp. 185–186).

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In b. Berakhot 48a, a discussion on the various types of benediction that ought to be recited before a meal, prompts an anecdote on Jannaeus: once upon a time, as Jannaeus was seated before a meal with his wife, he regretted aloud that there was no sage to recite the benediction. The text explains that this was because he had had them all put to death. However, it goes on to say that the queen took this opportunity to reveal to her husband that her brother, Shimeon ben Shetah, had managed to survive in hiding; after promising not to lay a finger on Shimeon, the king had him brought before him, in order to ask him to say the benediction. There are also allusions to Jannaeus’ massacre of the Pharisees in other passages, including b. Sanhedrin 107b and b. Sotah 47a, which also mention Shimeon ben Shetah, as well as R. Joshua b. Perahiah, who had fled to Egypt in order to escape the clutches of the Hasmonean king. The parallel version of this anecdote in the Jerusalem Talmud does not make any such allusions to Jannaeus’ murder of the Sages.268 There are no such references to Jannaeus’ massacre of his opponents in either y. Berakhot 7:2 (11b)269 – which is the parallel of b. Berakhot 48a – or Genesis Rabbah,270 another Palestinian work which reached its final redaction soon after the Jerusalem Talmud, both of which tell the history of the tense relationship between Jannaeus and Shimeon ben Shetah. On the contrary, Shimeon ben Shetah is described as having entered into an agreement with the king concerning the payment of the sacrifices called for by the purification of 300 hundred men who had vowed to become nazirites. Each of them had promised to pay for half of the expenses involved. However, whereas the king promptly paid his half, Shimeon did not, but claimed that he had not broken his promise because he had given what he could to these men, that is, his wisdom. After initially taking flight in anticipation of the king’s anger, Shimeon eventually decided to return, in order to attend the feast and recite the benediction (as in the version of b. Berakhot 48a). Thus, in the Palestinian sources, it is Jannaeus who has his hands clean, whereas Shimeon is cast in a more ambiguous light and appears rather crafty. The Palestinian and Babylonian sources differ clearly on this point.

The account of the fratricidal conflict between Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II in b. Menahot 64b Another passage of the Babylonian Talmud, b. Menahot 64b, describes the fratricidal conflict between Jannaeus’ sons, Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II, and tells the story of how Hyrcanus and his allies lay siege to Jerusalem.271 The text relates 268 See Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 62. 269 According to ms Leiden. 270 See Gen. R. 91:4, ed. Theodor-Albeck, 1115–1117. 271 ‫כשצרו מלכי בית חשמוניי זה על זה היה הורקנוס מבחוץ ואריסטובלוס מבפנים‬ … See Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 64.

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that the besieged population placed money inside baskets, which they then lowered down the walls, so that Hyrcanus’ supporters could deposit inside them the animals that were necessary for the daily sacrifices which had to be performed at the temple, in order to ensure that God’s benediction of Israel was not put in jeopardy. As the siege began to drag on, “an old man who knew Greek wisdom (‫ ”)זקן אחד שהיה מכיר בחכמת יוונית‬advised Hyrcanus’ supporters to place a pig inside one of these baskets, instead of the pure animals that could be used for the sacrifice. A pig was placed inside the basket, which was then hoisted up the walls. However, the pig kicked the walls with its hooves, and the land of Israel shook. This is the reason, the talmudic text tells us, why there is a curse on those who raise pigs and on those who teach Greek wisdom to their sons. This association between pigs and Greek wisdom recalls the clash against Antiochus IV, which was at the origin of the revolt of the Maccabees. In other words, it was outrageous that Hyrcanus II, a descendant of the Maccabees, should accept to let a pig desecrate the holy city in order to cause his brother to fall from power (even if in the text Hyrcanus’ involvement in this affair is only implicit). In Ant. 14.25–28, Josephus merely writes that Hyrcanus II and his supporters refused to provide Aristobulus with sacrificial animals, and that God punished them for this, and for the murder of a righteous man called Onias, who refused to curse Aristobulus. In the parallel version of this episode in the Jerusalem Talmud (y. Berakhot 4:1 [7b]), the context of the story is less clear. Speaking in the name of R. Joshua ben Levi, R. Shimeon reports that “in the days of the Greek kingdom” (‫)בימי מלכות יוון‬, two baskets filled with gold were lowered down the walls and two lambs were then hoisted back up (for the sacrifice). One day the besiegers decided to put young goats in the baskets, but God saved the day by leading those who were in the temple to discover two lambs in the pen. R. Levi then relates a similar story, according to which, “in the days of this wicked kingdom (‫)בימי מלכות רשעה הזאת‬,” two baskets filled with gold were lowered down before being hoisted back up with two lambs inside, until one day two pigs were placed inside them instead. When the baskets were half-way up, one of the pigs kicked the walls with his hooves and the walls began to shake. The Jerusalem Talmud then adds that “At that very moment, the iniquities were made complete and the tamid offering was interrupted and the temple was destroyed.”272 To what context(s) do these two narratives point? It seems that the first siege took place during the Hellenistic period, and should be identified with that of Antiochus VII, whose piety and willingness to supply the besieged with animals for the sacrifices is emphasized by certain sources, including Josephus. As for the second, it seems likely to correspond with Titus’ siege of Jerusalem, which ended with the destruction of the sanctuary. In this passage from the Jerusalem Talmud, the “wicked kingdom” thus refers to Rome, as is often the case in the rabbinic sources. However, the redactor of the parallel passage in the 272 The translation is mine.

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Babylonian Talmud associated this episode with Hyrcanus II’s siege of Jerusalem, and understood the phrase “wicked kingdom” to refer to the Hasmonean dynasty. This recalls the possible identification of the “wicked kingdom” with the Hasmoneans in the tradition underlying b. Avodah Zarah 9a. In any case, the Hasmoneans are only explicitly associated with the story of the pigs’ desecration of Jerusalem in the Babylonian Talmud. Once again, the Bavli adopts a strikingly more hostile stance towards the Hasmoneans than the Yerushalmi.

2.3.2 The Hasmonean dynasty versus the Davidic dynasty in the Babylonian Talmud According to Richard Kalmin (who bases his argument on b. Qiddushin 70a-b, in particular), during the period of the Amoraim, in Babylonia, the Sages were at loggerheads with Jews who claimed to be descended from the Hasmoneans:273 … some Jews in Babylonia, hundreds of years after the Hasmonean dynasty ostensibly came to an end in Palestine, claimed descent from Hasmonean royalty and used this claim to enhance their position in Jewish society. Babylonian rabbis opposed this claim, although it is doubtful that they did so with the complete public success depicted by the story on b. Kiddushin 70a–b. (Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society of Late Antiquity, 65)

Kalmin also adds that the hostility of the rabbis towards those who claimed that they were of Hasmonean descent was at odds with their favourable reception of the exilarch’s claim that he belonged to the line of David (the exilarch was the man who represented Babylonian Judaism to the Parthian and later Sassanid authorities). This leads Kalmin to conclude that “The Babylonian sources demonstrate a political decision on the part of the rabbis, a calculated choice between rival dynasties.”274 This point is illustrated in another passage of the Babylonian Talmud (b. Sanhedrin 19a-b), commenting on Mishnah Sanhedrin 2:2, according to which a king cannot pass judgment on others or be judged himself, and cannot be a witness in a trial or be put on trial by witnesses. In b. Sanhedrin 19a-b, Rav Yossef explains that the Mishnah is only referring to the kings of the kingdom of Israel (as opposed to the kingdom of Judah), whereas the kings of the Davidic dynasty could issue judgments and be judged themselves. The text answers the question of why the kings of the kingdom of Israel were excluded from judicial procedures with an anecdote about a slave who belonged to Alexander Jannaeus and had killed a man. Shimeon ben Shetah (him again!) told the Sages: “Set your eyes boldly upon him and let us judge him”. The Sages sent a messenger to the king telling him that his slave had killed someone, and so the king then had the slave sent to them. How273 Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 65–66. 274 Ibid.

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ever, the Sages asked the king to come in person, citing Exodus 21:29, which stipulates that if an ox has gored someone to death and this is not the first time the animal has killed a person, and his owner knows that the ox has a history of killing people but has failed to keep an eye on the animal, then the owner shall be put to death, as well as the animal. The text in fact suggests that the murder committed by the slave was the responsibility of the king, as though the king himself ordered the killing. So Jannaeus went to meet them and sat down. However, Shimeon ben Shetah asked the king to stand up while others made accusations against him, telling him that he was not asked to stand before men, but God, in accordance with Deut 19:17: “Then both parties to the dispute shall appear before the Lord, before the priests and the judges who are in office in those days.” Jannaeus retorted that he would not follow Shimeon’s lead, but would consult the other Sages. He then turned to his right, but the judges were staring at the ground; when he turned to the left, the same happened. Shimeon ben Shetah then mockingly asked them “Are you wrapped in thoughts (lit.: Are you masters of thoughts)? Let the Master of thoughts [God] come and punish you!”275 At these words, the angel Gabriel struck them and they all died on the spot. And from this moment onwards it was decreed that a king cannot pass judgment on others or be judged himself, and cannot be a witness in a trial or be put on trial by witnesses. Although the judges who lacked the courage to confront Jannaeus seem more at fault than Jannaeus himself, this anecdote portrays the Hasmonean king in a very negative light, contrasting him with the Davidic kings, who were seen as impartial judges who would not corrupt other judges if they had to stand before them. In other words, this talmudic text clearly pits the descendants of David – perhaps the only legitimate kings, in the eyes of this tradition – against other kings, including the Hasmoneans.276 To sum up: in rabbinic literature, the Babylonian Talmud is the main source of criticism of the Hasmoneans, even though the temporal and spatial distance separating the redactors of the Talmud from the dynasty was very significant. However, the criticism of the Hasmoneans in the Babylonian traditions is essentially focused on the last Hasmonean rulers, Jannaeus and his sons. In contrast, Mattathias and his sons are always cast in a positive light in the Babylonian Talmud, as in the Palestinian rabbinic sources. Whereas the latter do not mention the Hasmonean wars of conquest, the Babylonian Talmud does mention them – at least those of Jannaeus –, but these references are probably to be understood in light of the negative picture of Jannaeus’ hubris in the Bavli. 275 Trans. I. Epstein, The Babylonian Talmud: Seder Nezik. in (London: Soncino Press, 1935), 3:99, slightly modified. 276 See Kalmin, The Sage in Jewish Society, 66: “The editors who use the Yannai story to explicate Yosef ’s statement most likely believe that the Hasmoneans are among the illegitimate Jewish rulers excluded by Yosef; this amounts to further support for my claim that Babylonian rabbis polemicize against contemporary aristocrats claiming Hasmonean descent.”

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In conclusion, this survey of Jewish sources ranging from the fragments of the Qumran scrolls to the Babylonian Talmud, shows that the Hasmoneans were neither seen as new Joshuas who had reconquered the promised land, nor as the dynasty that restored the kingdom of David and Solomon. On the contrary, a certain number of Qumran, pseudepigraphic, and rabbinic sources oppose some of the Hasmoneans to Joshua (see 4QTestimonia, for example) or David (see the Psalms of Solomon or b. Sanhedrin 19a). However, in these texts – except in the Psalms of Solomon –, the criticism of the Hasmoneans is not based on the fact that they were not descended from David. Their criticism tends to focus on the fact that they held sacerdotal and royal (or political and military) powers concurrently: this is probably the issue at stake in the Temple Scroll, 4Q522, 4QTestimonia, 4Q161, and in the rabbinic tradition represented by y. Horayot 3:4 [47c] for example (however, contrary to a widespread notion, this is not clearly the case in b. Qiddushin 66a). On the other hand, the recurrent use in the rabbinic sources of the phrase “the Hasmonean royal dynasty” (lit. “the kingship of the Hasmonean house”) tends to suggest that the Sages had a positive perception of the dynasty’s claims to the kingship, and may have expected them to step down from the high priesthood rather than the kingship. The Qumran scrolls and rabbinic texts sometimes converge partially, especially when they argue for the need to control or set guidelines for the power of the king. However, whereas these reservations do not stop the rabbinic sources from casting the dynasty in a positive light, they go hand in hand with very virulent condemnations of the Hasmoneans in some Qumran scrolls, which emphasize the violence and greed of leaders such as John Hyrcanus or Alexander Jannaeus. In the rabbinic sources, the most negative perceptions of the dynasty are linked to the conflict between Alexander Jannaeus and the Pharisees, and the internecine feud between Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II, but these negative perceptions are mostly found in the Babylonian Talmud. As far as the wars of the Hasmoneans are concerned, the evidence may be summarized as follows. Unlike the Qumran scrolls, the rabbinic texts often celebrate Mattathias and his sons for liberating Israel from the “yoke of the Greeks”. Moreover, whereas certain Qumran manuscripts condemn the military campaigns of Hyrcanus I or Jannaeus, describing them as wicked and motivated by greed,277 the rabbinic texts never explicitly criticize these conquests – indeed, in Megillat Ta‘anit the perception of these campaigns seems to have been globally positive. However, outside Megillat Ta‘anit the wars of conquest waged by Simon, John Hyrcanus and their successors are seldom mentioned and are not celebrated as major markers in the history of Israel. In fact, if we leave aside the Megillah and the scholion, it

277 Although this critique may already be present in the Apocryphon of Joshua (4Q379), it is more obvious in 4QTestimonia and the pesharim. 4Q448 and 4Q471a may also contain criticisms of the military activities of the Hasmonean leaders, however this is less clear. See § 1.1 above.

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is only in the Middle Ages that the Hasmonean conquests began to be celebrated again as memorable events of the history of Israel. By its very nature – a list of events calling for celebration –, Megillat Ta‘anit is associated with the collective memory and practices of a group, which is certainly to be identified with that of the Sages. It is not clear whether their collective memory reflected the opinion of the Judean society as a whole. It is possible to think that the lengths to which the Hasmoneans went in order to legitimize their position – via the festival of Hanukkah, in particular – had an impact on large segments of the Judean society and the Jewish communities of the diaspora, and that the Sages’ positive perception of the Hasmoneans was shared by a portion of the population. However, it is clear, when we consider what the Qumran scrolls and Flavius Josephus have to say about the dynasty, that we should not take the Hasmoneans’ propaganda literally. Neither should we overlook the fact that, under their rule, a certain number of Sages held influential positions at the court and were close to the circles of power. Finally, although the writings of Josephus contain a wealth of information on the Jewish customs and festivals of the period, they do not corroborate the hypothesis that the celebrations mentioned in Megillat Ta‘anit were widely observed at the time: in other words, the actual popularity of this tradition remains an open question.

Conclusion

The sources I have been looking at are heterogeneous, remote in time and often difficult to interpret, which is why several questions remain unanswered even as my investigation draws to a close. Although I tried to provide the reader with a coherent overall narrative, based on the largest possible amount of data, the interpretation of some of the archaeological remains or literary documents that I have examined remains subject to caution. In the end, a certain number of aspects of the history of the Hasmonean dynasty also remain unclear because of the sheer lack of information. There will no doubt be some who will object to this work, arguing that my thesis is largely based on an argumentum ex silentio, i. e. the absence, in the sources that can be associated with the Hasmonean dynasty, of any reference to the reconquest of the land of Israel, the model of Joshua, or the territory of the kingdom of David and Solomon. Indeed, it is very striking to see, when we look at the Jewish sources which provide us with a positive account of the Hasmoneans, that there is no suggestion anywhere that any member of the dynasty was considered to be a new Joshua, or that the reconquest of the land of Israel was one of the objectives of their wars. Although the author of 1 Maccabees, Josephus, and the tradition reflected in Megillat Ta‘anit all rejoice at the Hasmoneans’ successful campaigns against their foes and extension of the Judean territory, they do not at any point celebrate their “reconquest of the promised land”. It would be remiss not to mention, and reflect on the implications of, their glaring and paradoxical silence on this issue. It is also significant that the rabbinic texts focus for the most part on the memory of the liberation of Israel from under the Greek yoke, and as such emphasize the Hasmoneans’ wars of liberation over their wars of conquest. As for the Qumran scrolls, a certain number of them seem to express open hostility towards the dynasty’s wars of conquest, accumulation of riches and use of mercenaries. The thesis I develop in this book is however not based solely on an argument from silence. Instead, my argument is based on a range of different approaches. In particular, I propose a close reading of the First Book of Maccabees, which shows just how carefully crafted this work is from a literary, rhetorical and ideological point of view. By shedding light on the narrative function in this book of several key episodes seeking to legitimize the Hasmonean dynasty, I show that there are many passages in 1 Maccabees that cannot be read at face value. I have also systematically examined all the arguments put forward by the proponents of the paradigm of the reconquest

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of the promised land – Simon’s reply to Antiochus VII in 1 Macc 15:33–35, his purification of certain places, the “forced conversions” performed by Simon’s successors and their destruction of various sanctuaries –, showing why I am not convinced by the suggestion that these particular passages or events can be interpreted as evidence that the Hasmoneans sought to reconquer the promised land. Finally, my thesis is also based on new readings of the sources, and on the analysis of data overlooked by the proponents of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land. My analysis of 1 Maccabees shows, in particular, that the legitimation of the Hasmonean dynasty did involve the invocation of biblical models, especially those of Saul, David and Solomon, the first kings of Israel. However, the author does not invoke these biblical figures in order to discuss the size of the Judean territory: instead, he presents the Hasmoneans’ military exploits in light of those of the kings of Israel, in order to allow the prestige of the latter to rub off on the former, and to confer royal legitimacy onto a dynasty of priests. As a consequence, it is important not to overemphasize the role that biblical models played in the Hasmonean policy of expansion. The fact that this policy was shaped in part by opportunism and pragmatism, suggests that it would be misguided to interpret it through a systematically ideological lens, and that we have to take on board the implications of Seth Schwartz’ acute observation, “they expanded because they could.”278 The actions of individual Hasmonean leaders had a range of different motivations, including the will to achieve political and fiscal independence, the view that territorial expansion would be economically profitable, a desire for revenge, etc. The Hasmoneans’ destruction of some of the sanctuaries in their conquered territories undoubtedly suggests that some of their motivations were politico-religious. The desire to put an end to the public ceremonies associated with idolatrous cults certainly played a major role in the Hasmonean policy towards polytheistic sanctuaries. However, this does not explain the destruction of the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim: instead, the destruction of this sanctuary was motivated by their desire to get rid of rival places of worship in order to consolidate the dominance of the temple of Jerusalem, from which the Hasmoneans derived their legitimacy. As I explained in the introduction, 1 Macc 15:33–35 has played and continues to play a central role in the elaboration and perpetuation of the paradigm of the reconquest of the promised land. My analysis of this passage shows, firstly, that the ancestral territory that Simon alludes to cannot be understood to refer to Eretz Israel, i. e. to a territory stretching from the Mediterranean to the river Jordan, but merely to the land of Judea, although its borders are ill-defined in the text. Secondly, Simon does not speak of God’s gift of the land to Israel, but develops an argument based on historical precedent, founding the Judeans’ right of ownership over their land on its patrimonial transmission, in accordance with the arguments invoked in the Hellenistic world in cases of territorial conflict. 278 Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 40.

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Moreover, in the First Book of Maccabees, Simon’s reply to Antiochus and the discourse of the Seleucid king mirror each other: in particular, Simon’s allusion to “the inheritance of our fathers” echoes the reference that Antiochus VII makes to “the kingdom of our fathers”. In other words, my analysis of 1 Macc 15:33–35 illuminates an aspect of the Hellenization of the Hasmonean dynasty that had gone relatively unnoticed until now: the Hasmoneans’ mastery of the political language that the Seleucids – and the Hellenistic world more widely – used in cases of territorial conflict. If we consider, additionally, that the Hasmonean ambassadors to Rome had Greek names and that a mythical syngeneia between Judea and Sparta is attested in both 1 and 2 Maccabees, we can only come to the conclusion that the Hasmoneans were very well integrated indeed into the Hellenistic world, on a political and diplomatic level. Let us not forget that the Hasmonean dynasty had already started to adopt some of the political practices of the Hellenistic world during the high priesthood of Jonathan, who accepted to wear the purple robe and take the title of Friend of the king, and who created a “royal domain” in Ekron. The splendour of the Hasmonean court in the days of Simon’s rule, as well as the monumental tombs that he built for his father and brothers (1 Macc 13:25–30), provide us with yet more indications of the cultural Hellenization of the Hasmoneans. Indeed, the author of the First Book of Maccabees goes as far as to portray Simon as an euergetēs who paid the wages of the Judean soldiers from his own pocket (1 Macc 14:32). The Hasmonean wars of conquest should also be seen in the context of the integration into the Hellenistic world of the Hasmonean dynasty. Indeed, it is even possible to consider that on some level, these wars involved the (probably involuntary) imitation of a royal Macedonian model, in which the legitimacy of the king was primarily military. All the Hasmoneans were warriors, and it is on the battlefield that Mattathias’ descendants are elected to be the new leaders of Israel. As Chris Seeman rightly observes, when Simon is appointed to the high priesthood by popular decree in 140 B.C.E., it is Simon’s military achievements that make up the lion’s share of justifications for his worthiness to enjoy high priestly honors. … The revolutionary character of the popular decree lies not in its legitimation of a non-Zadokite, but in its presumption that Simon’s personal accomplishments as a warrior and a statesman should be given precedence in evaluating his worthiness to hold the high priesthood. (Seeman, Rome and Judea, 368–369)279

In light of the biblical tradition, the association of the high priesthood with military power already was a major innovation, and the notion that the legitimacy of the high priest was linked to his military exploits was yet another step in the direction of the Macedonian model of kingship. The fact that the descendants of John Hyrcanus laid 279 See also Babota, The Institution of the Hasmonean High Priesthood, 240.

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claim to the title of king was the logical conclusion of the view that the legitimation of power was primarily based on military exploits. Although Hyrcanus himself did not lay claim to the kingship, he and his sons Aristobulus and Jannaeus behaved in many ways like Hellenistic kings, recruiting mercenaries, conquering new territories, and basing the legitimacy of their power on their military victories. This is especially clear in the case of Alexander Jannaeus, as suggested by Flavius Josephus’ observation that he enjoyed widespread popularity in the aftermath of a series of successful campaigns in Gaulana and Seleucia (Ant 13.394). A certain number of other elements provide further evidence that the last Hasmoneans were in many ways akin to Hellenistic kings, including the fact that, from John Hyrcanus onwards, they minted coins, some of which bore bilingual inscriptions; the fact that they used Greek names alongside their Hebrew names – and in the case of Aristobulus, that he was called Philhellene –; and the fact that they possessed vast royal domains.280 Of course, there were also deep differences between the Hasmoneans and the Hellenistic kingdoms of the Seleucids and the Lagids. However, these differences are not necessarily those put forward by the historians who emphasize the specificity of the Hasmonean dynasty. For example, they argue that the Hasmonean wars differed from those of the Seleucids, on the grounds that whereas the Hasmoneans merely wished to reconquer the ancestral territory of Israel, and improve the lot of their people, the Seleucids waged their wars of expansion wherever they could, with the sole purpose of increasing their personal power and profits.281 Thus, according to Edward Dabrowa, “the Hasmoneans’ kingship, by contrast, displayed distinct nationalist qualities as well as attachment to a precisely defined territory. Although Hasmonean rulers did engage in expansionist endeavors, those were limited to lands that had once belonged to biblical Israel.”282 One might however argue that Moab, for example, was not supposed to be part of the land of Israel,283 and that, conversely, the reconquest of the Davidic kingdom ought to have led the Hasmoneans to take back the north coast at least as far as Sidon, if not Lebo-Hamath.284 In reality, the fuzziness of the biblical borders of the land of Israel radically undermines the distinction that Dabrowa tries to establish between the Hasmoneans and the Seleucids. There is no reference to this “precisely defined territory” anywhere in any of the texts on the Hasmoneans. Moreover, Dabrowa underestimates the significance of the echoes between the language of the Hasmoneans, as expressed in 1 Macc 15:33–35 in particular, and that of a Seleucid king such as Antiochus III, when the latter argues that he is only laying claim to territories that had once belonged to his ancestors … 280 See Sartre, “De Pétra à Jérusalem… et retour!,” 163–167. 281 See in particular Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State; Regev, The Hasmoneans. 282 Dabrowa, The Hasmoneans and their State, 115. 283 See Deut 2:9. 284 On the inclusion of Sidon in the promised land, see Gen 10:19; Josh 13:5–6; Judg 3:1–3; 2 Sam 24:5–8.

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The real differences between the Hasmonean dynasty and the Seleucids lie elsewhere: in the Hasmoneans’ monotheism; in their observance of the Torah; in the fact that the territory that was under the control of the dynasty had a single sanctuary, the temple of Jerusalem; in the role that this temple played in the legitimation of the power of the Hasmoneans; and in the “ethnic” character of the Judean state, as illustrated by the inscription of the words ․hever ha-Yehudim on most of their coins, although this highly distinctive practice became less widespread under Alexander Jannaeus.285 Indeed, the Judean ethnos remained at the centre of the Hasmonean state even after the conquests. The conquests did however confront John Hyrcanus and his successors with the new problem of how to ensure that their dominion over non-Judean polytheistic populations would last the test of time. Although the Hasmoneans’ destruction of sanctuaries is relatively well attested, there is no evidence that they tried to eradicate the people they conquered. Instead, they adopted a range of different strategies, depending on the groups in question. Thus, it is important to distinguish between their treatment of the Idumeans, whom they genuinely integrated into the political and religious life of Judea, and their stance towards the Itureans, whom they never really conquered, and who seem to have merely entered into a political and military alliance with the Judeans. As for the city of Pella – which, according to Josephus, was destroyed for having refused to adopt the laws of Judea –, it seems probable that what actually happened was that the city’s dignitaries pledged to adopt the usages of Judea, leading to reprisals when the population failed to honour this promise. What happened in Pella can certainly not be considered as evidence that under Alexander Jannaeus, the Greco-Syrian cities were submitted to a blanket policy of “forced conversions”. The Hasmonean practice of integrating certain non-Judean population groups, such as the Idumeans, into Judea, was relatively in line with the treatment of the gerim – non-Israelites who were durably integrated into the community of the children of Israel from a religious and social point of view – in the biblical tradition. Like the biblical gerim, the Idumeans lived side by side with the Judeans but retained a separate identity linked to their origins. However, the active and coercive character of this Hasmonean policy did not reflect the biblical tradition, but was an innovation. Contrary to a widespread notion, this policy did not mean that the Hasmoneans embraced Hellenistic notions of citizenship, divorced from any idea of ethnic belonging. Although this analogy is interesting, the Judean state did not operate like a city and there was no such thing as Judean citizenship. Moreover, the integration of non-Judean population groups into Judea coincided more or less with the transformation of Judea into a monarchy. As a result, the Idumeans had a rather ill-defined status: they were neither subjects nor compatriots, but somewhere in between. 285 We could easily provide a longer list of examples, including a number of cultural traits linked to the observance of the Torah, such as the fact that the Judeans did not attempt to reproduce the likeness of their rulers on any of their coins.

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Faced with the need to establish lasting control of regions populated by nonJudeans, the Hasmoneans adopted a range of strategies that were comparable to those used in the Hellenistic kingdoms: they settled the Judeans onto the conquered territories (in some cases, this involved the distribution of klēroi), they involved the elites of these conquered populations in the power structure of the state, and they built fortresses, which were at least partly manned by mercenaries. The only originality of the Hasmonean policy towards the conquered territories lies in their Judaization of groups who were settled in areas adjoining Judea and Samaria and shared a certain number of cultural traits with the Judeans. These conclusions do not merely prolong the analysis of the scholars, such as Victor Tcherikover, who have emphasized the Hellenization of the dynasty, drawing attention to the similarities between the Hasmonean court and those of the Hellenistic world, with their feasts, political murders, and sibling rivalries – all of which are arguably not so much the marks of Hellenization, as the characteristics of royal courts in general.286 Contrary to Tcherikover, I do not consider that the adoption by the Hasmoneans of a certain number of Hellenistic usages is straightforward evidence of the dynasty’s “profane” character. The extent of the religious devotion (eusebeia) of the Hasmoneans needs to be evaluated according to different criteria. Thus, Eyal Regev’s analysis of the palaces of the Hasmoneans, for instance, suggests that John Hyrcanus and his sons were very concerned with ritual purification.287 It is also worth observing that nowhere are the Hasmoneans accused of misappropriating the sanctuary’s funds, not even in the Qumran scrolls. The integration of the Hasmoneans within the Hellenistic world was not necessarily incompatible with the observance of the Torah and its ritual laws (this point is also illustrated in the Letter of Aristeas, although the approach and context differ). Indeed, it seems likely that the Hasmoneans’ observance of these laws explains at least in part their stance towards polytheistic sanctuaries. However, it is important to distinguish between the issues raised by the public performance of idolatrous practices on a territory under Judean control, and the notion that the Hasmoneans felt compelled to reconquer the promised land in order to rid it of idolatrous practices. The nature of the problem was not geographical: it was not a matter of whether or not a territory belonged to the biblical land of Israel. Instead, the issues they faced were political and, as such, also pertained to the public cults: they were associated with the need to ensure the observance of the Torah – or at least the prohibition of idolatry – on the territories under Judean control. Indeed, the political challenge that the Hasmoneans faced was twofold: they needed to both eradicate idolatrous cults and reinforce the hegemony of the temple of Jerusalem, and therefore of their own dynasty.

286 Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews, 252–253. 287 Regev, The Hasmoneans, 224–265.

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Finally, it seems to me that the originality of the analysis proposed in this book also lies in the fact that it shows that the Hellenization of the Hasmonean dynasty went hand in hand with that of a segment of the Judean population, and that this Hellenization had an impact on aspects of the life of the nation, such as its relationship to the land.288 The fact that the members of the dynasty, and of pro-­Hasmonean circles more widely, were versed in the types of arguments used in cases of territorial conflict in the Hellenistic world, merely sheds light on one aspect of a wider phenomenon, namely the increasing tendency of the Judean elites of the second century B.C.E. to discuss the relationship of Israel to the land that they had received from God in juridical terms. This new development was based, in particular, on the notion that Israel’s right of ownership to the land was a patrimonial right based on the original apportioning of the land between the descendants of Noah, i. e. on a division of the land that predated God’s promise to Abraham and was unconditional. This “historical” and juridical conception of the relationship between Israel and the land is attested for the first time in the Genesis Apocryphon and the Book of Jubilees, two works whose chronological and ideological relationship with the Hasmonean dynasty is unclear. Whatever this relationship may be, this “historical” and juridical conception of the relationship between Israel and the land illustrates the impact of Hellenistic ways of thinking on the Judean elites, including in conservative and “nationalistic” circles.289 This is in fact a typical example of the way in which the dominated creatively appropriate the language of power of those who dominate them, a phenomenon also known as “mimicry.”290 This new historico-juridical conception of the relationship between Israel and its land, which was the product of the encounter with the Hellenistic world, although not without roots in the Bible, eventually became so well-established in rabbinic literature, that its Hellenistic origins and innovating character were all but forgotten.

288 This process of Hellenization may in fact have started before the Maccabean crisis; it is not necessarily dependent on the Hellenization of the dynasty. 289 Indeed, Maurice Sartre makes a similar observation in a passage on both the Nabatean and Judean societies: “Ce n’est pas seulement l’Etat qui s’hellénise, mais la société tout entière, à Pétra comme à Jérusalem. … Et le premier paradoxe est sans doute de trouver l’hellénisme à l’œuvre avec autant de vigueur, en Judée, chez ceux qui le rejettent autant que chez ceux qui l’acceptent avec ferveur” (Sartre, “De Pétra à Jérusalem… et retour!,” 167). 290 The maximalist vision of the territory of Israel that we find in Jubilees and the Apocryphon in fact reflects an imperial perspective, and, from this point of view, the authors of these works may be seen to articulate a mimetic form of rivalry with the empires that dominated them, whether this was the empire of the Lagids or the Seleucids.

Excursus Eupolemus’ perspective on the reigns of David and Solomon

The fragments of Eupolemus’ work – which have been transmitted to us by Eusebius and Clement of Alexandria, via Alexander Polyhistor (with the exception of fragment 5, that Clement did not discover through Polyhistor) – have often been seen to reflect their author’s association of the Hasmonean dynasty with the model of David or Solomon.1 Indeed, in his work On the Kings of Judah,2 a history of Israel, Eupolemus does mention the period of David and Solomon, even if, in the surviving fragments of his work, he focuses for the most part on the construction of the temple, recounting it in much more detail than the biblical books. Thus, according to Eupolemus, a certain Vaphres (Οὐαφρῆς) king of Egypt dispatched some of his men to Solomon in order to build a temple. Overall, Eupolemus tends to extol the kings of Israel, emphasizing their influence on and superiority over their neighbours.3 The author’s decision to entitle his work On the Kings of Judah, as opposed to On the Kings of Israel, is evidence of his focus on Judea itself. It is hardly surprising that a Judean author should have been interested in the history of the erection of the sanctuary and of the tools used in the cult, independently of whether or not he belonged to the sacerdotal elite (but especially if he did). Although Greek was not his mother tongue,4 Eupolemus was clearly at least partly schooled in Greek. He wrote in Greek; he portrayed Moses as a “Kulturbringer,”5 who invented the alphabet which then reached the Greeks via the Phoenicians (frg. 1); and he drew on Greek sources, in particular the works of Ctesias, and per-

1 See C. H. Holladay, Fragments from Hellenistic Jewish Authors. Volume I. Historians (Chico: Scholars Press, 1983), 93–156. 2 This title, which was transmitted by Clement (Stromata 1.23.153.4) certainly seems preferable to the title that Eusebius mentions in his Praeparatio evangelica, “On the Prophecy of Elijah” (Praep. Ev. 9.30.1). See B. Z. Wacholder, Eupolemus: A Study of Judaeo-Greek Literature (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1974), 21–26. 3 See E. Gruen, Heritage and Hellenism. The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 141–146; G. Anthony Keddie, “Solomon to His Friends: The Role of Epistolarity in Eupolemos,” JSPs 22/3 (2013): 201–237. 4 See J. Giblet, “Eupolème et l’historiographie du judaïsme hellénistique,” ETL 39 (1963): 539–554 (esp. 552). 5 See U. Mittman-Richert, Historische und legendarische Erzählungen (JSHRZ 6, suppl. 1.1; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2000), 172–184 (esp. 184).

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haps also Herodotus.6 Thus, his account of the fictitious correspondence between Solomon and Vaphres, and between Solomon and Souron the king of Tyre, is based on Hellenistic models.7 Finally, Eupolemus is often identified with the ambassador that Judas sent to Rome in 161 B.C.E. If so, this means that he was also a diplomat and a supporter of the Hasmoneans:8 however, in the absence of any clear supporting evidence, this identification remains hypothetical.9 In a fragment quoted by Eusebius, Eupolemus describes the high deeds of David, enumerating his territorial conquests: 3. Then David, his son, reigned, and subdued the Syrians on the banks of the Euphrates, Commagene, the Assyrians of Galadene and the Phoenicians. He also waged war against the Idumeans, the Ammonites, the Moabites, the Itureans, the Nabateans, and the Nabdeans. 4. He also launched an expedition against Souron, the king of Tyre and Phoenicia; he constrained them all to pay tribute to the Jews; as for Vaphres, the king of Egypt, he entered into an alliance with him. 5 Wishing to build a temple for God, he asked him to show him where to site the altar. An angel appeared before him, standing above the place where the altar is built in Jerusalem; and he forbade him to build the temple himself, because he was soiled with human blood and had spent many years at war. (Eusebius, Praep. Ev. 9.30.1–5; trans. based on Praep. Ev. [ed. and trans. E. des Places; SC 369; Paris: Cerf, 1991], 311)

These lines are strewn with errors. First of all, the words, “David, his son” present David as the son of Saul, who is mentioned in the previous paragraph. Polyhistor may be responsible for this particular error – if so, this casts the reliability of the transmitted text into question.10 The text also includes a number of other inaccuracies, which can be interpreted as exaggerations meant to emphasize David’s prestige: not only did David not enter into an alliance with a king of Egypt, but he conquered neither Commagene nor Phoenicia. According to 2 Samuel 8, he defeated the Arameans (who may be understood as the Syrians and the Assyrians in Eupolemus’ text), the Moabites, the Ammonites, the Philistines (who are not mentioned once by Eupolemus!), the king of Zobah (when he attempted to restore   6 See Wacholder, Eupolemus, 13 and 231–235; Holladay, Fragments, 95; G. E. Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition: Josephus, Luke-Acts and Apologetic Historiography (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 217–218.   7 See in particular G. Anthony Keddie, “Solomon to His Friends: The Role of Epistolarity in Eupolemos,” 208–225.   8 See 1 Macc 8:17 and Wacholder, Eupolemus, 1–7.   9 As Erich S. Gruen rightly observes in Heritage and Hellenism, 139–140; and as Francis Schmidt already suggested in a book review published in Bibliotheca Orientalia 36/3 (1979): 215–217. 10 However, Wacholder suggests that it is possible that Eupolemus himself may have been responsible for this error; see Eupolemus, 131. This issue is associated with the question of the work’s intended readership.

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his power over the Euphrates, 2 Sam 8:3),11 and Amalek (whom Eupolemus does not mention either); moreover, 2 Sam 8:14 claims that “all the Edomites became David’s servants”. Not only does the biblical text mention neither the Itureans nor the Nabateans, nor indeed the mysterious “Nabdeans,” but the presence of the Nabateans in the region, for example, is only attested from the fourth century B.C.E. The author’s decision to refer to the peoples against whom David waged war with the names of contemporary nations, led him to commit a number of obvious anachronisms. However, the fact that this practice was widespread among the Jewish authors who rewrote the Bible in Greek, suggests that we should not exaggerate its ideological implications.12 Instead, as 1 Maccabees shows, it is the practice of giving biblical names to contemporary realities that exhibits an ideological bias and an attempt to legitimate those in power. However, many commentators believe that this fragment by Eupolemus reflects the political situation in the Hasmonean period.13 According to them, Eupolemus’ account of the noble deeds of the king of Judah was motivated by his desire to show that the Hasmonean policy of expansion had a precedent in, and was based on, the actions of David – in other words, the Hasmoneans were perceived as following in the footsteps of king David.14 According to Doron Mendels, the text reflects the Hasmoneans’ aspiration to subject other peoples to the rule of Judea in order to extend their national territory. In other words, he considers that the text’s allusion to past events also outlines a programme for the future.15 In a similar vein, Seth Schwartz observes that in Eupolemus’ fragment 2 (Eusebius, Praep. Ev. 9.33), 11 The masculine pronoun in the third person singular used in the biblical text could refer to either David or the king of Zobah. However, the reference to the Euphrates in Eupolemus’ text indicates that in his reading of the biblical verse, this pronoun refers to David. 12 See my article “Where may Canaanites be Found? Canaanites, Phoenicians and Others in Jewish Texts from the Hellenistic and Roman Period,” in The Gift of the Land and the Fate of the Canaanites in Jewish Thought, 253–274. 13 See Wacholder, Eupolemus, 9, 131–139; Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism, 1:93–94 (thus, on p. 93, he writes: “Here is a clear expression of the political situation of the Maccabean struggle and the beginning of Jewish expansion in Palestine, which relied on a good relationship with Ptolemaic Egypt”); Mendels, The Land of Israel, 29–46; J. J. Collins, Between Athens and Jerusalem: Jewish Identity in the Hellenistic Diaspora (2nd edition; Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 2000), 46–47; Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition, 220–221; Keddie, “Solomon to His Friends: The Role of Epistolarity in Eupolemos,” 227–229. 14 See in particular Holladay, Fragments, 104: “The geographical situation depicted in the fragments presupposes a Maccabean setting. Broadening the extent of the Davidic and Solomonic realm may have functioned to justify Maccabean expansionistic policies. … The depiction of the strength of Israel as requiring the combined forces of the Babylonians and Medes to subdue it may also point to the level of strength the Jewish state hoped for but never achieved in the Maccabean period”. 15 See Mendels, The Land of Israel, 35–39. Thus, on p. 36, Mendels writes: “Firstly, the ‘nations’ living in this enormous region – even the actual friends of Israel in Eupolemus’ days – are seen by the author in terms of subjugation: they should be Israel’s subjects. … By mentioning David and Salomon, perhaps the greatest kings in Israel’s past, Eupolemus demonstrates the

Eupolemus’ perspective on the reigns of David and Solomon

437

the population of Samaria, Galilee, Moab, Ammon and Gilead helped to build the temple of Solomon, in “a passage which Eupolemus may have intended as exhortation”.16 Once again, a prescriptive dimension is attributed to the description of the past, and according to Seth Schwartz, Eupolemus implicitly suggests that the Judeans are allowed to establish relationships with these peoples if the latter submit to the authority of the high priests in Jerusalem. But if this is the case, why does Eupolemus’ list include Arabia, a nation which he claims provides Judea with “the sacrificial victims for the consumption of meat”? Either Eupolemus’ text reflects the fact that John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus and Alexander Jannaeus subjugated Samaria, Galilee, etc. (although in this case it is not clear why Arabia is on this list, since the Nabatean kingdom itself was not subjected to Judea); or the text should in fact be understood to describe a utopian collaboration between Israel and its neighbours, and is not associated with a specific historical moment. The notion that Eupolemus’ fragments reflect a historical reality raises several difficulties. If we identify Eupolemus with the ambassador who was dispatched to Rome in 161 B.C.E., then he could not have had any knowledge of the conquests of John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus, and Jannaeus. Or should we suppose that he was a visionary, or an ardent nationalist eagerly calling for wars of expansion against all the immediate and more distant neighbours of Judea?17 Even if we believe this to be the case, is it really possible to consider that in the second century B.C.E. a Judean author would have perceived Commagene as a territory that should be part of Judea? This seems rather far-fetched. Eupolemus’ work certainly does exhibit his idealization of the period of David and Solomon, and perhaps also a certain level of nostalgia for the greatness of that period. However, it would be unjustified to extrapolate from this that he outlined a programme for the Hasmonean dynasty, or indeed for any Judean leader in the second century B.C.E. We stumble on the same problem if we do not identify Eupolemus with the ambassador and decide to disregard the chronological indications that are provided in fragment 5, which suggest that his book was finished after 158/157 B.C.E.18 Even if the Hasmonean conquests, which took place between the end of the second and the start of the necessity of a strong kingship for Jewish occupation of the Land.” Mendels nevertheless does acknowledge that Eupolemus’ fragments present us with several different visions of the land of Israel. 16 Schwartz, “John Hyrcanus I’s Destruction of the Gerizim Temple,” 12–13. 17 Cf. Gruen, Heritage and Hellenism, 141: “A blueprint for future Hasmonean expansionism along these lines would require remarkable prescience on the part of a historian writing in the 160s or 150s.” He adds: “The whole construct of a political agenda for Eupolemus is ramshackle.” 18 The chronological indication that Eupolemus provides in fragment 5b – an allusion to Demetrius’ fifth year and Ptolemy’s twelfth year – is generally understood to refer to Demetrius I and Ptolemy VIII (i. e. 158/157 B.C.E.). However, Frank Clancy argues in a recent article that this allusion refers to Demetrius II and the year 141 B.C.E., which was the year when Judea recovered its independence (see “Eupolemus the Chronographer and 141 BCE,” SJOT 23/2 [2009]: 274–281).

438

Excursus

first century B.C.E., had happened during the lifetime of Eupolemus, it would still be absurd to try to match his account of the regions conquered by David to the conquests of one Hasmonean or the other; indeed, the absence in his text of any reference to the victories of David over the Philistines on the coastal plain would seem even more puzzling. We thus have to content ourselves with what the fragments describe explicitly: their author’s memory of the greatness of the past, his national pride, his idealization of the reign of David and Solomon, and his anachronistic use of the geographical and ethnic categories of his age to portray events in the biblical history of Israel. Although a historian’s particular way of writing about historical events often does reflect his specific circumstances, in the absence of any clear correlation between Eupolemus’ account and what we know of the Hasmonean period, not to mention the fact that Eupolemus’ own dates are unclear, the conjectures of commentators are no more than that. In short, the fragments of Eupolemus do not unproblematically, let alone convincingly, illustrate the notion that the Hasmoneans sought to reconstitute the territory of the Davidic kingdom, or even that the Hasmonean wars of conquest were perceived favourably.

List of the documents describing the diplomatic relations between the Hasmoneans and Rome before 63 B.C.E.

(in presumed chronological order) 161 B.C.E: 1 Maccabees 8: Under Judas’ leadership, the Judeans enter into a friendship and alliance with Rome. 145/4 (?) B.C.E: 1 Maccabees 12:3–4: The Judean friendship and alliance with Rome is renewed under Jonathan. 140 (?) B.C.E.: 1 Maccabees 14:24: An embassy is sent to Rome under Simon. 134 (?) B.C.E. (at the start of the high priesthood of Hyrcanus): Ant. 14.145–148: The friendship between the Judeans and Rome is renewed. (// 1 Maccabees 15:16–21). Early 120s B.C.E. (Gaius Fannius is praetor): Ant. 13.260–263: Hyrcanus asks the Senate for the restitution of the territories that Antiochus VII seized from Judea during the war. Ca. 112 B.C.E: Ant. 14.247–255:  Senatus consultum (reproduced in a decree of the city of Pergamon) regarding the coastal sites which were the focus of the conflict between John Hyrcanus and Antiochus IX Cyzicenus.

Chronology

The dates provided in 1 Maccabees tend to follow the Seleucid calendar, based on the Baby­ lonian computation, which started in April 311 B.C.E. This is especially clear in 1 Maccabees 10:21 and 16:14. However, some of the dates in the book follow the Macedonian computation, which began in the Autumn of 312 B.C.E. On this issue, see Elias Bickerman, “The Calendar System of the Books of the Maccabees,” in idem, Studies in Jewish and Christian History: A New Edition in English including The God of the Maccabees (ed. Amram Tropper; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 2:1136–1146. 202 Battle of Zama: Scipio defeats ­Hannibal at Carthage 200–199 Fifth Syrian War, Antiochus III takes Syria from the Lagids 197 End of the second Macedonian War; Philip V of Macedon is defeated at ­Cynoscephalae 196 Flamininus proclaims the freedom of the Greeks 194 The Romans withdraw from Greece 193 Rome wages war on Antiochus III, defeating him at Thermopylae and ­Magnesia 188 Rome and Antiochus III sign the treaty of Apamea 187 Death of Antiochus III; Seleucos IV rises to the Seleucid throne 175 Death of Seleucos IV; Antiochus IV rises to the Seleucid throne

175 Jason becomes high priest

172–168 Third Macedonian War

172 Menelaus becomes high priest

170–168 Sixth Syrian War 169 Antiochus IV launches his first expedition in Egypt; first sack of Jerusalem? 168 Perseus of Macedon is defeated at Pydna (end of the Antigonid dynasty); Antiochus IV is humiliated at Eleusis

168 Unrest in Jerusalem; Seleucid repression and looting

Chronology

441

167–152 Ptolemy VI Philometor clashes 167 The temple of Jerusalem is desecrated against Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II Physcon 164 Death of Antiochus IV

164 (Dec.) Purification of the temple of Jerusalem

162 Demetrius I Soter rises to the throne in Antioch (he dies in 150) 162–160 Timarch rebels against Demetrius I (in Media) 161 Defeat of Nicanor; an embassy is sent to Rome in order to negotiate a treaty of alliance and friendship between the Romans, Judah, his brothers, and the Judeans (relations were tense between Demetrius I and the Senate at the time); Bacchides launches an expedition against Judea 160 Death of Judah 159 Normalization of the relationship between Demetrius I and Rome

159 Death of Alcimus

153/2–146 Reign of Alexander Balas (I)

152 (Autumn) Balas appoints Jonathan to the high priesthood

150 Death of Demetrius I 149–146 Third Punic War 148–147 Macedonia becomes a Roman province 146–139 First reign of Demetrius II Nicator 146 Carthage and Corinth are destroyed 145 Death of Ptolemy VI Philometor

145 Jonathan lays siege to the Acra

144–142 Antiochus VI Dionysus sits on 145/4? The friendship between Judea and the Seleucid throne (under the control of Rome is renewed Trypho) 143 Jonathan is murdered 142–134 Simon is high priest and ethnarch 142–138/7 Trypho sits on the Seleucid throne

142/1 Judea becomes independent 141 (May) The Acra no longer has a ­Seleucid garrison

442

Chronology

139–129/8 Reign of Antiochus VII

140 (August–September) An assembly of the people proclaims Simon ethnarch and high priest; an embassy is sent to Rome (?) 134 (Feb.) Simon is murdered 134–104 John Hyrcanus is high priest

133–129 The kingdom of Pergamon becomes the Roman province of Asia

134 or 133 Antiochus VII lays siege to Jerusalem

133 Tiberius Gracchus is elected tribune of the people; agrarian crisis 132–130 Seleucid coins are minted in Jerusalem (perhaps as early as 133/2) 130–129/8 Antiochus VII launches an expedition against the Parthians 129/8 (Winter) Death of Antiochus VII 129/8–126/5 Second reign of Demetrius II 129/8–123 The usurper Alexander II ­Zabinas rules over parts of Syria 128–122 Eighth Syrian War 126 Tyre becomes independent 126–96 Reign of Antiochus VIII Grypus (competing for power with Antiochus IX Cyzicenus, 113–95) 125–122 Roman campaigns in the valley of the Rhone 123 Gaius Gracchus is elected tribune of the people; new agrarian law 116 Death of Ptolemy VIII 116–107 Ptolemy IX Soter II (Lathyrus) rules over Egypt with his mother ­Cleopatra  III Euergetes 113 The Parthians conquer Dura-Europos; Antiochus IX Cyzicenus seizes power in Antioch1 1 According to the coins minted in Antioch, his reign was brief; Antiochus VIII minted new coins between 113/12 and 111/10 B.C.E.; in 110/09 Antiochus IX was back in power, followed by Antiochus VIII between circa 109/08 and 97; Antiochus IX then returned to the throne from 97/96 to 96/95. See O. D. Hoover, “A Revised Chronology for the Late Seleucids at Antioch (121/0-64 BC),” Historia 56/3 (2007): 280–301.

Chronology

443

112 Sidon becomes independent; Mithridates VI becomes king of Pontus 112–104 Rome is at war in North Africa, against Jugurtha, king of Numidia

110–101 Rome is at war against the Cimbri and the Teutones in Gaul, Spain, and Northern Italy. Marius is elected six times to the c­ onsulship.

Ca. 111–107 John Hyrcanus wages his wars of conquest (111? destruction of the temple of Garizim) (ca. 110 Judea mints its own coins)

108 Antiochus VIII Grypus returns to the 108–107? Conquest of Samaria and Scythopolis Seleucid throne; Antiochus IX only rules over a few places on the coast. 107 Ptolemy IX Lathyrus loses his grip on power (he reigns again from 89 to 81) 103–101 “War of sceptres” 103–100 Saturninus is elected tribune; unrest in Rome

104–103 Aristobulus I is high priest and king 103–76 Alexander Jannaeus is high priest and king

102 Roman campaign against pirates 101 Death of Cleopatra III

101? Jannaeus seizes Gadara and Amathus 100–96? Jannaeus captures Raphia and Anthedon, followed by Gaza (as well as Dora and the Tower of Straton?)

96 Antiochus VIII Grypus is assassinated 91–87 Social War in Italy; Rome wages war 91/90? Obedas I defeats Jannaeus against its allies, before granting them citizenship 89/8–84 First Roman war against Mithridates, who invades Asia, massacres 80,000 Romans and Italians, and is received in Athens;

89/8 Jannaeus’ enemies call on Demetrius III Eukairos

85 Treaty of Dardanus 88 Sulla marches on Rome; Ptolemy Lathyrus returns to the Egyptian throne; Deme­trius III is captured by the Parthians 86 Marius and Cinna are elected to the consulship

86/5 Antiochus XII defeats Jannaeus near Joppa

85 Death of Antiochus XII 84 Sulla is appointed dictator by the Senate 84 Battle of Adida, Jannaeus is defeated by Aretas III, who occupies Damascus in 84/3

444

Chronology

84–69 Tigranes invades and occupies Syria 83–81 Second Roman war against ­Mithridates 78 Death of Sulla; Tigranes launches an offensive against Cappadocia

73–67 Lucullus wages war against Mithridates and Tigranes

83/2?–76 Jannaeus launches new ­campaigns

76–67 Salome Alexandra is queen of Judea 74? Aristobulus II launches an expedition in the area of Damascus

73–71 The Spartacus rebellion 70 Pompey and Crassus are elected to the consulship 69 Lucullus defeats Tigranes, who withdraws from Syria 67 Lex Gabinia; Pompey successfully deals with the pirates in the Mediterranean 66 Pompey takes over from Lucullus, and is now in charge of the war against ­Mithridates

65 Hyrcanus II and Aretas III besiege Aristobulus in Jerusalem; Scaurus lends his 64 The Roman province of Syria is created; ­support to Aristobulus Scaurus is named governor of the province 63 Cicero is elected to the consulship 62 Scaurus lays siege to Petra

63 Pompey captures Jerusalem; Hyrcanus II becomes ethnarch

58 Beginning of Caesar’s campaign in Gaul 55 The Parthians defeat Crassus at Carrhae 51–50 The Parthians invade northern Syria 44 Caesar is assassinated 41–40 The Parthians invade the rest of Syria; they withdraw in 38

49 Ptolemy son of Mennaeus takes in the children of Aristobulus II 40 Death of Ptolemy; his son Lysanias succeeds him to the Iturean throne 40–37  Mattathias Antigonus sits on the throne in Jerusalem, with the support of the Parthians 39 The Romans name Herod king of Judea 37 Herod’s reign begins

Maps

The maps presented here are used by permission of Maurice Sartre (original publication: D’Alexandre à Zénobie: Histoire du Levant antique, IVe siècle avant J.-C. – IIIe siècle après J.-C. [Paris: Fayard, 2001], 1003–1004).

Judea under Jonathan Sichem

Apollonia

S A M A R I A

Acrabatta

Pegae Joppa Lydda Modein Jamnia

Gazara Akkaron

Gadara

Aramathea Thamna Gophna

Beth-Horon Emmaus Acra

P E R E A

Aphairema Mitzpeh

Tyros Jericho

Philadelphia

Abila

Jerusalem

J U D E A Keilah

Beth-Zur

Hebron Fortress Judea before 152 B.C.E.

Tekoa

Dead Sea Judea after Jonathan District limit

0

km

10

446

Maps

The Hasmonean kingdom under Alexander Jannaeus Tyre

Ptolemais

PH

EN

ICI

A

Antioch

Tarichea Asochis Arbel Gaba Dora

Mediterranean Sea

Sepphoris Philoteria Mt Tabor

Pegae

Raphia Rhinocolura

0

km 20

Alexandreion

JUDEA

Gazara Jerusalem

Marisa Hebron Adora Ein-Gedi Aristobulias

Gaza

IDUMEA Beer-Sheba

Heshbon Medaba Lemba

Dead Machaerus Sea MOAB

Masada

Eglaim Oronaim

Alusa Fortress Greek town conquered by Jannaeus District limit

Gadara

PEREA

Jericho

Hyrcania Beth-Zur

Ascalon Anthedon

Amathus

Philadelphia

Adida Jamnia Azotus

Abila

Gerasa

Samaria Sichem

Joppa

Gadara

Dium

Pella

SAMARIA Apollonia

Gamala Hippos Gaulana

GILEAD

Scythopolis

Straton’s Tower

Seleucia

GALILEA

Zoara

Gobolis

NABATEA

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Index of ancient sources

Hebrew Bible Genesis 1:1  205 n.418 9  58 n.127 9:21–27 190 9:25 209 9:25–27 125 9:27 203 9–10 188 10 201 10:14  207 n.422 10:15  152 n.282 10:15–19  188 n.370 10:19  430 n.284 11:10–16 202 15:18 56 17:13 285 21:23 207 23:11 303 25:6 209 25:15  263 n.178 26:1  206, 207 26:8  206, 207 34  257 n.155, 258 n.163, 291, 349, 352 36:9  304 n.318 36:12 134 39:9  351 n.37 49:5  349, 352 49:8 114 49:9 114 49:10 413 49:15  346 n.17 Exodus 3:5 82 4:21  122 n.190 7:13  122 n.190

7:22  122 n.190 8:15  122 n.190 12:19  300 n.302 12:48  300 n.302 13:11  204 n.414 15:17 86–87 17:1–7  355 n.50 17:8–19 126 18:21 131 18:25 131 19:6 (LXX)  87 20:10  300 n.302 20:17  354 n.44 20:25  131 n.219 21:29 424 21–23 118 23 120 23:20–24 118 23:22 145 23:20–33  120 n.186 23:27–33 118 23:31  56 n.120 23:31–33 53 32:25–29 356 32:26–29  355 n.51 34:13 138 34:15 115 n.170 Leviticus 16:19  300 n.302 17–26  154 n.287 17:8–9  300 n.302 17:10  300 n.302 17:13  300 n.302 18:1–4 118 18:3  205 n.417 18:24–29  300 n.302

18:26–29 153 18:26–30 118 20:2  300 n.302 20:22 204 20:24 204 22:17–25  300 n.302 24:16  300 n.302 25:23  200 n.405 26:44 403 Numbers 13:16  106 n.135 13:21  55, 55 n.117, 56, 264 14 105 15:14  300 n.302 15:16  300 n.302 15:26–27  300 n.302 16 414 16:3 414 16:7 414 18:20  173 n.329 20:17–21  136 n.241 21:1–3 120 21:3  122 n.191 21:21–25  136 n.241 21:21–35 120 21:26 206 21:29–31  151 n.278 22–24 360 23:5  360 n.65 23:16  360 n.65 24:13   360 n.65 24:15–17  354, 355, 356, 356 n.53 24:17  357 n.55, 358 24:17–24  52, 256 n.152 24:18 52

480 25  100, 105, 110 25:11  90, 130 n.211 25:12 110 26:55–56  194 n.391 27 365 27:18–21 364 27:18–23  106 n.135, 364 27:21 416 27:21a 366 32:20–22  54 n.113 32:23  134, 134 n.233 33:50–51 53 33:50–56  57 n.124 33:52  122 n.192 33:54  173, 194 n.391 33:55 119 34:1–12  54 n.114, 55 34:2  172 n.329 34:3 134 34:8  55 n.115 35:8  173 n.330 36:2  202 n.410 36:7–9 173 36:8 174 Deuteronomy 1:7 56 1:15 131 2:2–8 134 2:9  206, 208, 429 n.283 2:9–22 208 2:10–12 208 2:19 208 2:20–22 208 2:23  206, 207, 208, 209 n.426 2:24 208 2:34 120 3:4 405 4:20  172 n.329 4:31 130 5:23–31  354 n.44 5:28b-29  354, 354 n.44, 355 7:1 122 7:1–5  121 n.189, 364 7:1–6 120 7:4  120 n.187 7:5 138 7:7 112

Index of ancient sources 7:12 (LXX)  130 n.214 7:17–24 146 7:23 146 7:25 120 7:25–26 109 8:5 132 8:18 (LXX)  130 n.214 8:20 122 9:4 120 9:5 (LXX)  130 n.214 11:24 56 12:3 138 12:8–10  172 n.329 12:31 120 13 129–131 13:1–5  360 n.64 13:14  129, 137 13:14 (LXX)  129 13:14–15 90 13:16 130 13:17  136 n.238 16:11  300 n.303 16:14  300 n.303 17:14  129 n.209 17:14–20 366 17:15–20 393 17:16 370 17:17  393 n.176 17:20 130 17:20–18:1 413 18 357 18:1 413 18:9–13 120 18:10 359 18:16–17  354 n.44 18:17b  354 n.44 18:18–19  354, 354 n.44, 355 19:10  172 n.329 19:14  173 n.330 19:17 424 19:19  130 n.213 19–20  188 n.121 20  121, 126, 132, 143, 144, 369 n.91 20:1  393, 393 n.176 20:1–4 146 20:5–8 368 20:5–9  131, 132 20:10–14  121 n.188, 122, 143, 153

20:10–15  369 n.91 20:13 136 20:13–14 136 20:15–18  143, 153 20:16–18  121, 122 20:19–20  121 n.188 21:22–23 154 21:23  172 n.329 23:3  45, 53 23:4–7 46 23:7 53 23:8 133 23:8–9 46 23:9  133, 302 25:17 134 25:18 135 25:19  172 n.329 26:2  54 n.113 27:5–6  131 n.219, 155 27:6 131 28:53–57  83 n.73 29 124 29:9–13 301 29:10  301 n.307 29:24 (LXX)  130 n.214 30:3–5  87 n.77 31:3  122, 105 n.134 31:7–8  105 n.134 31:10–13  301 n.305 31:12  300 n.302 31:16 130 31:20 130 31:23  105 n.134 32:11  378 n.120 32:49  200 n.405 33:1  355 n.47 33:8–11  354, 355 33:11  402, 406 n.219 33:12  363 n.76 Joshua 1:1  105 n.134 1:4  56 n.120 1:5  104 n.129 1:8 366 5:1–9 103 5:15 82 6:7 98 6:21 121

481

Hebrew Bible 6:24 108 6:26  346–358, 362, 389 6:26b 354 7  136 n.238, 144 7:12, 14, 15  98 7:24  362 n.71 7:26  362 n.71 8:25–26 121 8:30–35  97 n.112 8:31 (LXX)  131 n.219 9  364, 365 9:3–8 (LXX)  97 n.112 9:3–27  363 n.78 9:8–11  122 n.195 9:14 365 9:21  301 n.307, 364 n.80 9:23  125, 301 n.307, 364 n.80 9:27  122 n.195, 301 n.307, 363 n.77, 364 n.80 10:5 121 10:10 121 10:10–14  40, 107 10:11  106 n.138 10:11–14  104, 107 10:11–12:33 107 10:28 121 10:35 121 10:37 121 10:40 121 11:12 121 11:20 121 13:3  206, 206 n.419, 207, 208 13:5  56, 264 13:5–6  56, 430 n.284 14–19 54 14:2  194 n.391, 202 n.410 15:1  192 n.383, 194 n.391 15:7  362 n.71 15:13–14 173 15:20  173 n.330 15:45  164 n.308 16:1  192 n.383, 194 n.391 16:10  123, 124 17:1  194 n.391 17:11–13 123 18:1–21:40  194 n.391 18:6  202 n.410 18:8  202 n.410

18:10  202 n.410 18:11–28  173 n.332 19:51  202 n.410 21:21 171 23:13  134 n.231 24:13 205 Judges 1:17 122 1:27–35 123 2:4 400 2:6  173 n.330 2:20  130 n.214 3:3  55, 55 n.116, 56 n.118 3:5 122 7:3  131 n.218 7:21–22 146 13:5–6  430 n.284 20:1  53 n.112 21:24  173 n.330 1 Samuel 3:20  53 n.112 4:10  141 n.254 5 140 6:10  115 n.170 7:10 146 7:14  123 n.197 10:12 151 10:27  137, 176 n.338 10:27–11:15  137 n.245 13:16  351 n.37 13:19  81 n.60 14:1  115 n.169 14:1–23 115 14:6–7  115 n.169 14:15 146 14:31 107 14:47 (LXX)  138 14:47–48  135, 138 15 134 15:2–3 135 17:4–54 115 17:5 (LXX)  115 n.169 17:51 115 17:54 115 28:6 364 31  141 n.254

2 Samuel 1:19 115 1:27 115 3:10  53 n.111, 56 5:1–3  116 n.175 5:6–8 363 5:6–10 115 7:1–17 363 7:13–15  363 n.76 8 435 8:3  57, 436 8:14 436 8:18 328 10:12 85 15:18–22 328 17:11  53 n.112 24:2  53 n.112 24:5–8  57, 430 n.284 24:7 123 24:15  53 n.112 1 Kings 1:14  105 n.133 1:20  393 n.176 1:21  393 n.176 1:25  393 n.176 1:31  113 n.164 2:27  105 n.133 3:9 106 4:21 57 5:4–5 125 5:5  53 n.112, 116 5:17–18 125 6:20  131 n.219 8 115 8:21 (LXX)  130 n.214 8:36  172 n.329 8:51  173 n.329 8:53  173 n.329 8:65  55 n.116, 56 n.118 8:66 115 9:15  115, 124 9:15–16 155 9:15–17  170, 171 n.327 9:16  123, 124, 155 9:17–19 155 9:20–21  122, 124, 301 n.307 9:26 155

482 10:23 (LXX)  124 11:41  116 n.176 11:41–43  69 n.13 13:11–19 360 14:19–20  69 n.13 14:29  116 n.176 15:31  116 n.176 16:34  348, 357 19:21  103 n.126 21:1–16 370 21:3 174 22:11–12 360 22:24–25 360 2 Kings 5:2  81 n.60 5:4  81 n.60 6:23  81 n.60 10:34–36  69 n.13 15:5 106 19 373 19:35  116 n.176, 146 Isaiah 2:6  115 n.170 5:20  388 n.160 8:18  362 n.73 8:23 265 10:24 373 10:28–32 373 11:1–5 374 11:14–16  52, 256 n.152 16:8–9 52 18:7  362 n.73 19:25  173 n.329 23:8 152 25:9–12  52, 256 n.152 31:1  393 n.176 37 373 47:6  173 n.329 49:8  87 n.80 55:3 112 58:14  173 n.331 61:5  115 n.170 Jeremiah 2:2  113 n.162

Index of ancient sources 3:19  87 n.80, 172 n.329 5:27–28 352 5:30  351 n.40 5:30–31 352 11:10  130 n.214 12:7–9  173 n.329 12:15  87 n.80 16:10 351 18:13  351 n.40 23  352, 358 23:1–8 352 23:9–40 352 23:10 352 23:11  352, 352 n.41 23:14  346 n.20, 351 n.40 23:14–17 351 23:15  351, 352 23:15b  346 n.21 23:16–17 352 23:17  346 n.22, 351 n.38 26:19  346 n.18, 351 28:1 361 29:21–23 360 29:24–32 361 30:18–31:15  52, 256 n.152 32:42 351 38:11–12  409 n.226 38:32  130 n.214 41:13  130 n.214 44:7  351 n.37 47:4  207 n.422 48:1–49:22  52, 256 n.152 48:24  136 n.237 48:32 52 48:39  350, 352 Ezekiel 7:2  81 n.60 11:7  81 n.60 12:19  81 n.60 12:22  81 n.60 13:9  81 n.60 14:7  301 n.304 17:4  152 n.283 18:2  81 n.60 20:38  81 n.60 20:42  81 n.60, 185 n.362 21:7–8  81 n.60 25:3–6  81 n.60

27:17  81 n.60 33:24  81 n.60 36:6  81 n.60 37:9  382 n.136 37:12  81 n.60 38:18–19  81 n.60 40:2  81 n.60 44:7–9  301 n.304 44:28  173 n.329 45 110 46 110 47:15–20 56 47:18  81 n.60 47:22–23  173 n.330, 301 n.304 Hosea 6:9–10  351, 352 6:10 351 6:10–11  346 n.20 9:7–8  350, 352 9:8  346 n.14 Joel 4:2  173 n.329 Amos 6:14  55 n.116 8:10  101 n.120, 150 8:14  53 n.112 9:12  52, 256 n.152 Obadiah  52, 256 n.152 Jonas 4:1  351 n.37 Nahum 2:12a  383 n.142 2:12–14  383, 385, 153 n.385 2:14 385

483

Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha Habakkuk 2:5–6 387 2:8  346 n.23 2:8a 386 Zephaniah 1:11  152 n.283 2:4–10  52, 256 n.152 Zechariah 2:10  382, 382 n.136 2:10–17 382 2:14–4:7 406 6:5  382 n.136 8:12  87 n.80 9:1  264 n.180 9:1–17  264 n.180 9:7  264 n.180 11:7 (LXX)  153 n.284 13:7 377 Malachi 2:10 (LXX)  130 n.214 Psalms Ps 21(20):5  113 n.164 Ps 74:2  362 n.73

Ps 79:3  346 n.23, 353 Ps 111:6  205 n.418 Job 8:6 378 30:4  409 n.226 Proverbs 31:24 152 Lamentations 5:2  87 n.80 Daniel 8:8  382 n.136 9:12  351 n.37 9:24 372 9:24–27 418 11:4  382 n.136 11:29–39  66 n.4 11:39 92 Nehemiah 1:3  351 n.37 2–4  156 n.295 2:10  351 n.37

4:8 86 6:1  156 n.295 7:1  156 n.295 9:18  346 n.22 9:26  346 n.22, 351 n.38 13:27  351 n.37 1 Chronicles 1:12  207 n.422 1:31  263 n.178 5:19  263 n.178 9:24  382 n.136 13:2  81 n.60 14:16  40, 107 22:2  81 n.60 29:21–25  160 n.302 2 Chronicles 2:15  171, 171 n.327 2:16  81 n.60 6:42 112 20:7 84 30:25  81 n.60 34:27  81 n.60 36:21  105 n.133

Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha 1 Maccabees 1:1–6:17  65 n.1 1:1–14:15 70 1:8 439 1:11  128, 137, 191 1:13–15  304 n.317 1:15  292, 305 1:38 91 1:54  91 n.94 2:10  169 n.322 2:15–28  100 n.119 2:19–22 83 2:20 130

2:22 130 2:23–27 100 2:24–26 129 2:26  111 n.154 2:29–30 102 2:31 130 2:40 83 2:41 77 2:46  81 n.61, 303 n.310 2:49–61 100 2:49–64 103 2:50  83, 130 2:53  83 n.73

2:53–56 112 2:54  111 n.154 2:55  103, 104, 105 n.133 2:56 173 2:57 112 2:64 113 2:65–66  66, 158 2:65–68 71 3–9:22 66 3:1–4:35 66 3:3  115 n.169 3:4 114 3:5–6 129

484 3:5–8 130 3:6 106 3:8  90, 129, 130 3:15  81 n.61 3:18–22  132 n.224 3:19  105 n.132, 142 3:24 106 3:34  81 n.63 3:35–36  81 n.61 3:36  83 n.70, 91, 92–93 3:39  168 n.322 3:41  81 n.61, 115 n.171, 285 3:55 131 3:56 131 3:60  106 n.138 4:7–15  304 n.317 4:8–11  132 n.224 4:9  110 n.151 4:10  106 n.138, 130 4:12  115 n.171 4:22  115 n.171 4:26  115 n.171 4:28–29 114 4:29–35 258 4:30  115 n.169, 115 n.171 4:30–33  132 n.224 4:35  81 n.63 4:36 157 4:36–61  66, 155 4:47 131 4:47–49 115 4:56 115 4:57 115 4:60–61 116 4:61  159, 163 n.306, 165, 258 5  24 n.27, 36, 66, 102, 108, 127, 138, 145, 265 n.187, 382 5:1–2 133 5:3  81 n.61, 132, 135 n.236, 258 5:4  134 n.231 5:4–5 144 5:6–8 135 5:8  81 n.63, 134, 145 5:9 135 5:13  136 n.240 5:15  115 n.171, 135, 265

Index of ancient sources 5:16 265 5:18  81 n.63 5:20–23 265 5:23  81 n.63 5:26 145 5:28 135 5:35  135, 147 5:36  108 n.143, 135, 145 5:37–44 142 5:42  132, 146 5:43–44  13, 146, 147, 238 5:45  168 n.322 5:48 136 5:51  135, 136 5:53  135, 135 n.234, 168 n.322 5:60  81 n.63 5:62  101, 106 n.136 5:65  132, 137 5:65–67 258 5:66  115 n.171 5:66–67 138 5:68  115 n.171, 138, 140, 142, 168 n.322 6 66 6:5  168 n.322 6:18–14:15  65 n.1 6:24  92, 173 6:48  81 n.63 6:50  163 n.306, 165 6:53  81 n.63 7 66 7:2  176 n.336 7:8 79 7:9  81 n.61 7:10  168 n.322 7:13  81 n.61 7:16 353 7:22  168 n.322 7:23  81 n.61 7:24  138, 81 n.63 7:26–35  404 n.212 7:31–47  40, 107 7:39 107 7:40–42  40, 132 n.224 7:41  116 n.176, 146 7:43–47  404 n.212 7:45 107 7:46  81 n.63 7:47 115

7:50  168 n.322 8 66 8:17  435 n.8 9:1  168 n.322 9:1–22  66, 67 9:2 265 9:10 83 9:21 115 9:22  70, 71, 116, 142 9:23–12:53 66 9:23–10:14 66 9:35 149 9:36–42  139 n.249, 140 n.250 9:37  149, 150, 152 9:38 149 9:40–41 150 9:42  149, 150 9:50  81 n.63 9:52  165 n.314 9:57  81 n.64, 168 n.322 9:60  81 n.63 9:63  81 n.63 9:72  168 n.322 9:72–73  81 n.61 9:73  101 n.120, 106, 130 10:15–21 139 10:15–12:53 66 10:20–21 109 10:21 440 10:29–30 319 10:30  163 n.307, 168 n.322, 317, 319 10:36–37 324 10:37  168 n.322, 320, 325 10:37–38 320 10:38  81 n.63, 318, 319, 320 10:45  81 n.63 10:52  176 n.336 10:55  176 n.336 10:67  176 n.336 10:69–87 140 10:70–74  139 n.249 10:71–72 141 10:76  140, 165 10:83–84  139 n.249, 238 10:84  140, 164 10:86 140 10:89 338

485

Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha 11:4  139 n.249 11:4–6 148 11:9  176 n.336 11:20  81 n.63, 139 11:27 139 11:28  81 n.63, 164 n.307, 164 n.309, 241, 317 n.354, 318, 321 11:34  81 n.63, 163 n.307, 164, 318, 321 11:44  325 n.371 11:45–51 325 11:57 164 11:57–59 140 11:58 177 11:59 109 11:60 141 11:60–62 269 11:61–62  141, 148, 164 11:63 140 11:65 259 11:65–66 139 11:66  165, 283, 399 n.195 11:67  264 n.181 11:68  115 n.171 11:71  101 n.120 11:73  264 n.181 11:74  115 n.171 12 66 12:3–4 439 12:4  168 n.322 12:5–23 66 12:6  367 n.88, 416 n.256 12:6–18 236 12:13 236 12:13–15 149 12:15 142 12:21  181 n.352, 185 12:22 146 12:24–31 141 12:25  264 n.182 12:30 45 12:31–32 148 12:32 264 12:33–34  157 n.298, 165, 221 n.32 12:34 141 12:35  81 n.63 12:35–38  116, 157 12:38  165, 271

12:48 267 13:1  168 n.322, 283 13:3–6  83, 90 13:8  109 n.146 13:10  158 n.299 13:12  168 n.322 13:15 241 13:22  106 n.138 13:23 67 13:25–30 429 13:27–30 335 13:33  81 n.63, 157, 157 n.298, 165 13:36  109 n.146 13:41  73 n.29, 142 13:42  70, 79 n.52, 109 n.146 13:43–53 165 13:47 283 13:47–53 158 14  67, 71, 93 14:4  142, 168 n.322 14:4–15  101 n.120, 159 14:4–15:34 323 14:5  165, 166, 221 n.32 14:6–7  160, 166 14:7 259 14:11 142 14:12 116 14:16–24  67, 71, 169 n.325 14:16–16:24  65 n.1, 70 14:24 439 14:25–49  110 n.149, 160 n.302 14:27 398 14:27–47 159 14:32  325 n.371, 335, 429 14:33  81 n.63, 259, 399 n.195 14:33–34  159 n.301, 166 n.315 14:34  336, 323 14:36 158 14:36–37  160, 166 n.315 14:41  71, 113 n.164, 116 n.175 14:49–52 116 15:1–9  162, 175 15:3  167 n.318, 176, 176 n.336 15:3–4 176

15:6  160 n.302 15:10  176 n.336 15:15 243 15:15–24  67, 180, 243 n.108 15:16–21  243, 439 15:17–18 243 15:19 243 15:28–31  23, 175 15:28–36  163, 169 15:29–30  179, 179 n.344 15:30  81 n.63, 337 n.413 15:30–34 382 15:32 335 15:33  40, 42, 84, 107, 183, 255 15:33–34  38, 50, 87 n.80, 176, 177, 330 n.387 15:33–35  23, 32, 35, 38–39, 41–42, 81 n.59, 161, 173, 174, 212, 255, 428–430 15:35  165, 175 15:37–16:19 67 15:38–41  142, 169 15:39–41  81 n.63 16:2  81 n.61 16:3 142 16:4–10 142 16:10  81 n.63, 142 16:21  240 n.97 16:23  69, 116 16:23–24  65 n.2, 67, 69, 69 n.11, 142 16:24 440 2 Maccabees 1:1 82 1:1–9 72 1:7 82 1:7–8 72 1:10  72, 88, 367 n.88 1:12 86 1:18  75 n.38, 88, 1:27  382 n.136 1:29 86 2:1 99 2:6–8  267 n.196 2:13–14 99 2:16 87

486 2:17  87, 379 n.129 2:19–32 72 2:21–22 88 3  76, 77 n.43 3:1  76 n.40 3:12  137 n.242 3:24–26  146 n.266 3:30  87 n.79 4:1 89 4:11  75 n.37 4:33–35  137 n.242, 239 n.94 5:1–4  146 n.266 5:8 89 5:15 89 5:17  132 n.222 5:19  87 n.79 5:27  77 n.44 6:12–16  132 n.222 6–7  75 n.38, 76 7  78 n.49 7:18  132 n.222 7:32  132 n.222 8:1  77 n.44 8:2–4 89 8:6–7 144 8:19 146 8:21 89 8:22–23 77 8:25–28 77 8:30 76 10  75 n.38, 108 10:1  154, 157 10:1–8  73 n.32, 76 n.41, 144 10:4  132 n.222 10:10–12 145 10:14–38  138 n.247 10:15 144 10:15–23 144 10:18 144 10:19 77 10:20–22 145 10:23 144 10:29–30  77 n.43, 146 n.266 10:32 145 10:33  77 n.44 10:35  77 n.44 10:35–38 145

Index of ancient sources 11:8  77 n.43, 146 n.266 11:27  416 n.256 12–14  75 n.37 12:3–4 145 12:3–9  138 n.247 12:5–7 145 12:8–9  108, 145 12:10–12  151 n.278 12:13–16 108 12:13–28  138 n.247 12:15 103 12:15–16 108 12:22  146 n.266 12:32–37  138 n.247 12:32–38 258 12:40 108 13:10 89 13:14 89 14  75 n.37 14–15 72 14:12–34  404 n.212 14:14 144 14:17  77, 145 14:18  89 n.88 15:11–16  146 n.266 15:12–16  77 n.43 15:22 146 15:24 108 15:28–33  404 n.212 15:32–33  404 n.212 15:36 158 15:37  76 n.40, 89 Assumption of Moses  9  392 n.170 Jubilees  35, 56, 97, 185, 186, 187, 188–196, 198, 347, 432 7:7–13 188 7:12 190 8:10 202 8:10–11 201 8:10–12 188 8:17–19  189, 190 8:18 203 9:1  189, 190 9:14–15  189, 191

10:28–34 189 10:28–36 193 29:10  134 n.230 38:14  296 n.291 Judith  81, 167, 168, 208, 289, 402 n.208 1:12  81 n.63 3:9  81 n.63 3:9–10  167 n.317 4:1  81 n.62, 81 n.63, 167 n.317, 169 4:3  81 n.63 4:7  81 n.63 4:8  367 n.88 4:13  81 n.63 8:21  81 n.63 11:19  81 n.63 15:8  367 n.88 Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum (L.A.B.) 21:6  357 n.54 24:3  357 n.54 Psalms of Solomon 233, 279 n.229, 340, 390–394, 411–412, 425 2:26–27 390 7 113 7:8  394 n.181 8:8–13 390 8:14–22  279 n.229 8:28  382 n.138, 390 9:4  394 n.179 9:8  394 n.181 11 390 11:7–9  394 n.181 14:5  394 n.181 17 390–394 17:1–10 392 17:4–9 390–391 17:5  392 n.172 17:5–14  279 n.229 17:9 392 17:11  392 n.172 17:11–20 392

487

Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Texts Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs T. Levi 5–7  258 n.163

17:21–46 392 17:32–34 393 18:3  394 n.181 Sibylline Oracles 3.114–125 195

Wisdom of Ben Sira 80 n.58, 330 45–50 111 45:24–25 111 46:1  357 n.54 46:1–8 104

Susanna 1:56  152 n.282

46:3  104 n.128 47:1–12 114 47:8  113 n.162 50:1–4 156 50:24 112 Wisdom of Salomon 12:3  82 n.69

Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Texts CD (Damascus Document) 302, 343, 357 n.55 I 11  343 n.5 VII 19–20  357 n.55 XIX 7  378 1QApGen (Genesis Apocryphon)  56, 192, 198 XIII–XV 201 XIV 16  193 XIV 17  193 XIV 22  201 XV 20  201 XVI–XVII 192 XVI 12  192 n.383 XVI 14  192 n.383, 201 XVII 201 1QpHab (Pesher Habakkuk) 343, 344, 386–388 III 2–13  386 n.154 VIII 3–8  387 VIII 8  343 n.5 VIII 8–9  345 VIII 8–13  387 IX 4–7  235 n.82, 386 IX 9  343 n.5 XI 4  343 n.5 XII 2  343 n.5 XII 8  343 n.5

1QS (Rule of the Community) 358 VIII 14  355 n.46 IX 11  356, 358 1QSa (Rule of the Congregation) II 11–21  365 n.84 1Q6 (1QJudges)  97 n.112 4QMMT  379, 379 n.128 C 23–32  379 4Q30 (4QDeuteronomyc) 4 1  120 n.187 4Q47 (4QJoshuaa) 95 n.104, 97 n.112, 98 4Q48 (4QJoshuab) 97 n.112 4Q49 (4QJudgesa) 97 n.112

4Q50 (4QJudgesb) 97 n.112 4Q51 (4QSamuel)  137 n.245 4Q161 (4QPesher ­Isaiaha)  372–375, 380, 381, 391, 425 2–6 ii 26–29  373, 374 8–10 iii 12  374 8–10 iii 22–28  374 4Q167 (4QPesher Hoseab) 386 4Q169 (4QPesher Nahum) 383–386 3–4 i 1–ii 1  383–384 4Q171 (4QPesher Psalmsa) 3–10 iv 8  343 4Q175 (4QTestimonia)  217 n.14, 345, 346 n.16, 346 n.24, 348, 350–358, 362, 389, 407, 415, 425 n.277

488 8 348 11–12 348 25–29 354 28 352 30 348 4Q176 (4QTanhuma) 19–20 3–4  378 4Q185 (4QSapiential Work) 1–2 ii 5  350 n.36 4Q216 (4QJubileesa) 187 4Q245 (4QpsDanc ar) 9 344 10 344 11 344 4Q248 (4QHistorical Text A) 345 n.10 4Q252 (4QCommGen A) II 1+3 5–8  190 n.374 4Q339 (4QList of False Prophets ar) 360, 360 n.65 8 361 9 361 4Q375 (4QapocrMosesa)  360 n.64 4Q378 (4QapocrJosha) 345

Index of ancient sources 4Q379 (4QapocrJoshb) 345– 346, 348–351, 353, 354, 357, 358, 362, 366, 389, 407, 415, 425 n.277 9–10 349 10 349 11–12 349 13 351 13–14 351 22 ii  346, 348 n.30 22 ii 7–15  354 22 ii 14  352 4Q390 (4QapocrJer Ce)  372, 389 2 i  372 2 4  372 2 6  372 2 8–10  372 4Q448 (4QApocr. Psalm and Prayer)    344, 375–383, 375 n.118, 379 n.128, 389, 425 n.277 Col. A  375, 376, 377, 377 n.117 5 380 8–9 377 10 377 Col. B  375, 376, 377, 377 n.117, 380 3–6 381 Col. C  375, 376, 377, 377 n.117, 380, 381 7 381 4Q471 (4QWar Scroll-like Text B) 388 4Q471a (4QPolemical Text)  388–389, 425 n.277

4Q522 (4QProphecy of Joshua (apocrJoshc?))    345, 362, 362 n.70, 363 n.75, 365, 366, 389, 425 3 3  362 3 4  362 5 3  362 8  362, 362 n.72 9 i–10  362 9 ii  362, 363, 366 4Q523 (4QJonathan)  345 2 344 4Q524 (4QTempleb) 371 6–13 1–3  371 11Q19 (Temple Scroll) 366, 367, 368, 369, 370, 371, 393, 416, 425 LIV 8–18  360 n.64 LVI 370 LVII  366, 371 LVII 2–11  370 LVII 8–9  370 LVII 11–15  367 LVII 19–20  370 LVIII  370, 371 LVIII 3–11  367 LVIII 18–21  366, 367, 368 LIX 371 LXII 5–16  169 n.92 11Q20 (Temple Scroll) 371 11QPsa  375, 380 XJoshua  97 n.112

489

Jewish Literature in Greek

Jewish Literature in Greek Eupolemus On the Kings of Judah 434– 438 Flavius Josephus Judean War  78, 79, 91, 214–216, 229, 235, 238, 307, 341, 359 n.62 1.10–11  230 n.68 1.11 230 1.31 78 1.32–56 78 1.35 79 1.48  245 n.114 1.50  80 n.57 1.55  240 n.97 1.61  284 n.240, 325, 325 n.371 1.62  245, 255, 256 1.62–63  295 n.290 1.63–66 245 1.64–66  399 n.196 1.65  247 n.117 1.67 353 1.68–69 217 1.70  266 n.192 1.70–84  264 n.179 1.76 261 1.78 359 1.78–80  359 n.61 1.88  314, 326, 327 1.89 270 1.91  217, 271 n.208 1.93  271, 326, 327 n.377 1.93–94 327 1.95 271 1.96–98  271 n.209 1.97  217 n.15 1.104  272, 272 n.212, 310 1.105–106 272 1.106  272, 279 n.230 1.112 327 1.115 280 1.117 328 1.134 310

1.155–157 228 1.156  272, 274, 275, 310, 311 1.165–166  228, 273 1.166  272, 273, 274, 275 1.169–170 228 1.170  281 n.234 1.185–186  308 n.327 1.204  235 n.81 1.304–305  235 n.81 1.347 235 1.349 235 2.111–113  359 n.61 2.159  359 n.61 2.503 315 2.510 315 2.570 315 3.34 315 3.35–58  308 n.327 3.41–43 315 4.224  294 n.282 4.228–232 300 4.229  294 n.282 4.566–576  294 n.282 5.248–249  294 n.282 6.378–383  294 n.282 Jewish Antiquities  78, 147, 159, 214–220, 236, 312 n.342, 313, 316, 331, 341, 415 1.138–142  125 n.201 1.159–160 228 4.97  150 n.277 4.118  360 n.65 4.165  357 n.54 4.192  150 n.277 4.224  367 n.88 4.300  150 n.277 4.305  150 n.277 5.20  357 n.54 5.26  150 n.277 5.67–68  150 n.277 6.67–80  137 n.245 6.136 150

12.45 324 12.125–126 228 12.138  367 n.88 12.138–144 61 12.142  367 n.88 12.145–146 61 12.147–153 324 12.159  92 n.98 12.254–256  78 n.49 12.266 90 12.280 90 12.286  90, 147 12.304 90 12.316–318 159 12.328 304 12.334 231 12.336–344 147 12.352  101 n.123 12.353  147, 231, 291 12.406–412  404 n.212 12.414 80 12.419 80 12.434 80 13.5 90 13.10  149 n.274 13:11  151 n.278 13.18  149 n.273 13.20–21 150 13.34 147 13.49–50 319 13.50  163 n.307, 321 13.54  319, 320 13.94–100 148 13.99  148, 238 13.102  148, 338 13.104 148 13.105 148 13.125  164 n.307, 321 13.127 321 13.137 325 13.148–152 148 13.148–153 239 13.152  239 n.95 13.158–162  264 n.181 13.169  149, 236 13.172  394 n.179

490 13.179 148 13.180  157 n.298 13.184  157 n.298 13.198–200 91 13.215 159 13.215–217  93 n.100, 336 13.225  149, 169, 236 13.236  169, 240 13.242–243 170 13.245 170 13.246  170, 241, 242 13.246–247 332 13.247 241 13.249  284 n.240, 325, 325 n.371 13.250 240 13.254 255 13.254–256 399 13.254–258 246 13.255 269 13.257 296 13.257–258  284, 290, 291, 296 13.259–266  241 n.103, 246 13.260–263  170, 242, 244, 439 13.261 243 13.267–274 246 13.272 246 13.272–273 336 13.273  352, 386 n.155 13.273–274  246, 255 13.274 248 13.275  251, 252 13.275–283  399 n.196 13.278 236 13.282 239 13.282–283  217, 217 n.14, 260, 358 n.58 13.284  386 n.155 13.287 220 13.289–296  408 n.223 13.292 410 13.293–296 411 13.299–300  217, 239, 260, 359 13.300  358 n.58 13.301  221 n.31, 266 n.192 13.301–319  263 n.178

Index of ancient sources 13.311–313  359 n.61, 359 n.62 13.318  261, 261 n.173, 266, 284, 290 n.262, 306 n.321 13.318–319  306, 307 13.319  221, 261 n.173, 306 13.322  265, 360 13.324–326  399 n.195 13.337  266, 268 n.197, 327 n.377 13.338  326, 326 n.376 13.339  268 n.197 13.344  268 n.197, 374 n.105 13.345–347  232, 268 13.356  268, 272 13.357  267, 273 13.358–364 237 13.364 273 13.365 270 13.372–373 353 13.373 270 13.374  233, 270, 326 13.376  271 n.208 13.377  271, 326, 326 n.376 13.378 327 13.379 271 13.380–383 353 13.381–383  217 n.15 13.382 271 13.383 333 13.390–391 271 13.393  272 n.212 13.393–394 272 13.394  272, 430 13.395  399 n.195 13.395–397  272, 273, 274, 275, 284, 309 13.397  276, 280 n.233, 309, 310, 311, 312 13.398 272 13.405 279 13.409 327 13.417 328 13.418  280, 308 13.427  280, 328 13.432 280 14.6  339 n.422 14.9  236 n.84

14.10 288 14.18  272, 280 14.25–28 422 14.35–36 278 14.41 408 14.41–46 233 14.41–47 334 14.43  233, 235, 236 n.83, 334 n.401 14.49 310 14.66 228 14.68 228 14.74 230 14.74–76  229, 231, 273, 274, 275 14.74–77  228, 382 14.75 310 14.77 281 14.77–78  230, 231, 236 n.83 14.87–88  273, 274, 276 14.88  274, 275 14.91  281 n.234 14.97  218 n.17 14.104 228 14.140–142 234 14.144 243 14.145–148  243, 244, 439 14.148 244 14.157  379 n.129 14.159–160  235 n.81 14.165  379 n.129 14.172  379 n.129 14.203  337 n.414 14.207 338 14.247–250 249 14.247–255  247, 439 14.248–250 248 14.250  249 n.122 14.415  235 n.81 14.417 337 14.421  235 n.81 14.424  235 n.81 14.427 337 14.429 337 14.471 235 14.471–472 235 14.490–491 218 15.8–10 220 15.120  235 n.81

Rabbinic and Medieval Jewish literature 15.125–126  308 n.327 15.185  308, 308 n.328 15.204–229  308, 308 n.327 15.253–254  258 n.162 15.254  291 n.266, 296 15.255  293, 296 15.257 300 15.343–348  235 n.81 15.373–379  359 n.61 16.183–185  236 n.84 16.187  79 n.53, 217 n.11 16.271–292  235 n.81 17.346–348  359 n.61 18.93  379 n.129 20.237–238 80 Life 2  79 n.53, 217 n.11 2–6  417 n.259 12  402 n.206

491

Against Apion 231 1.62 237 2.43  164 n.307, 317 n.357 2.60  168 n.321 2.79  223 n.40 2.83–84  223, 228 2.272  148, 236

Philo of Alexandria Who Is the Heir? (Her.) 293  82 n.69

Letter of Aristeas  99, 303– 304, 431 3  304 n.315 30–32 99 35–36 324 36  304 n.315 38–39 99 44  304 n.315 126  304 n.315

Questions and Answers on Genesis (QG) 2.65  125 n.201 On Dreams (Somn.) 1.127  82 n.69 2.75  82 n.69

On the Embassy to Gaius (Legat.) 202, 205, 300  82 n.69

On the Special Laws (Spec.) 4.215  82 n.69 Theodotus  257 n.155, 258 n.163

Rabbinic and Medieval Jewish literature Megillat Antiochus 342, 406 n.219

Mekhilta deRabbi Ishmael Pisha 18  204 n.416

Megillat Ta‘anit  209 n.428, 257, 257 n.159, 341, 342, 396–404, 416, 425, 426 Scholion to Megillat Ta‘anit  209 n.428, 210 n.432, 257 n.159, 341, 397–401, 404, 425 O  397 n.193, 398 n.194, 399, 400, 401 P  397 n.193, 398 n.194, 399, 399 n.197, 400, 401

Pesiqta Rabbati  407 n.219

Midrashim Genesis Rabbah  210 n.432, 402, 403, 421 1:2  205 n.418, 208, 209 26:3  204 n.414 44:7  204 n.414 56:10  204 n.414 61:7  209, 210 91:4  421 n.270 99:2 403

Sifra 198 Ahare mot, parashah 8:1  205 n.417 Qedoshim, perek 11 (5:2) 204 Sifre Deuteronomy 51  400 n.200 199  369 n.91 299  54 n.113 311  205 n.418 357  356 n.52

2:4  368, 416 Shevi‘it 9:2  338 n.419 Sotah 8:7 368 Tosefta Horayot 2:8  412, 415 Sotah 7:24  368 n.90 13:5  217 n.14, 260 n.168, 358 n.58, 407

Mishnah Nega‘im 14:6  409 n.225

Jerusalem Talmud Berakhot 4:1 (7b)  422 7:2 (11b)  421

Sanhedrin 1:5  368 n.89 2:2 423

Horayot 3:4 (47c)  413, 415, 425 3:9 (48b)  412 n.241

492

Index of ancient sources

Megillah 1:3 (70c)  403, 408

Gittin 57a  338 n.418, 404, 405

Sanhedrin 1:5 (17b)  416 n.255

Horayot 13a  412 n.241

Sotah 33a  217 n.14, 260 n.168, 407 44b 368 47a 421

Shekalim 6:1 (49d)  413 n.244

Hullin 60b 206

Ta‘anit 18b  403 n.212

Shevi‘it 9:2  338 n.419

Megillah 6a  399 n.195, 400, 404 11a  80 n.56, 403

Sotah 8:3 (22c)  413 n.244 9 (24a)  410 n.231 9:12 (24b)  217 n.14, 260 n.168, 407 Ta‘anit 2:8 (66a)  403 Babylonian Talmud Avodah Zarah 418–420 8b-9a  418, 419 9a 423 Baba Batra 3b 417 Berakhot 29a  409 n.223 44a  338 n.418, 404 48a  414, 421

Menahot 64b  413, 421 Qiddushin 408 66a  404, 405, 405 n.221, 408 n.223, 411–415, 413 n.246, 425 70a-b  417, 423 Sanhedrin  210 n.432 16a 416 19a 425 19a-b 423 91a  209 n.428, 210 107b 421 Shabbat 15a  419 n.264 21b 404

New Testament Matthew 2:22  379 n.129 14:9  379 n.129 15:22  152 n.282 Mark 7:26  152 n.282

Acts 1:24–26 202 Colossians 1:25  105 n.133

Seder ‘Olam (Rabbah) 341, 418–419 1:323 418 Sefer Yosippon  341, 406, 407, 407 n.220 29:8–12  302 n.307 Targumim Tg Pseudo-Jonathan Deut 33:11 406 n.219 Tg Pseudo-Jonathan Josh 15:1 192 n.383 Tg Pseudo-Jonathan Josh 16:1 192 n.383 Targum of Canticles  407 n.219

493

Greek Literary Sources

Christian Sources Clement of Alexandria Stromata 1.23.153.4  434 n.2 Eusebius Ecclesiastical History (Hist. eccl.) 6.25.2  396 n.188

Preparation for the Gospel (Praep. Ev.) 9.22.1–11  257 n.155 9.30.1  434 n.2 9.30.1–5 435 9.33 436

George Syncellus  Chronography  226, 272 n.213

Greek Literary Sources Aeschines Against Ctesiphon 95  295 n.287 (Pseudo-)Apollodorus Library 2.8.4 197 Aristotle Politics 1256b  178 n.342 Cassius Dio Roman History 49.32.15  379 n.129 Demosthenes On The Crown 181 178 Against Leptines 28  295 n.287 Diodorus 224 4.33.5  205 n.417 14.53.1–4  269 n.202 16.23.5–6  181 n.352 34–35.1.1–5  170 n.326 40.2 234 Herodotus 2.104 296 3.11  232 n.72

Hesiod Theogony 195 Homer Iliad  181 n.352, 184 15.185–199  195 n.393 Maiandrios of Milet Histories  196 n.395 Nicolaus of Damascus Histories  79, 214, 217, 219, 227, 228 Pausanias Description of Greece 2.18.7 197 Pindar Isthmian Odes 7.12–15  196 n.396 Plutarch Sayings of Kings and Commanders 184 e-f  170 n.326 Polybius Histories 220 2.37.10–11  289 n.260 5.65.4  327 n.376 5.65.10  327 n.376 5.79.3–9  327 n.376

13.6.3–5  333 n.397 18.51.1–6 182 34.14.3  333 n.397 Ptolemy On King Herod  294, 296 2.104 296 Strabo Historical Sketches (Historica Hypomnemata)   222, 223, 223 n.41 Geography  220, 223 11.1.6  222 n.37 15.1.72–73 227 16.2.2  168 n.321, 297 16.2.18–20  263 n.178 16.2.21  168 n.321, 169 n.323 16.2.27–30  276 n.217 16.2.28 222 16.2.34 296 16.2.37–40 221 16.2.40 334 16.2.46 229 Thucydides History of the Peloponnesian War 2.15.2  295 n.287 3.81.5  147, 147 n.267 4.76.3  295 n.287 7.29.4–5 147

494

Index of ancient sources

Latin literary sources Ammonius De adfinium vocabulorum differentia  295

36.1.9 224 36.2.16 225 39  224, 278 n.225 40.2 224

Pompeius Trogus / Justin Phil. Hist. (Historiae ­Philippicae) 224

Tacitus Histories 226 5.8.3  214 n.3, 225, 281 n.236

Papyri and Inscriptions Inscriptions from Crete IC III iv 9 (IGGR 1021)  178 Inscriptions from Priene IPriene I 531  180 n.349 IPriene 37  180 n.351, 195, 196

OGIS no. 229  no. 335  no. 593  no. 737 

336 n.410 183 n.358 292 n.270, 295 293

P. Grenf. I 35  270 n.204

SEG 2.663  316 n.352