Jerusalem and the Coastal Plain in the Iron Age and Persian Periods: New Studies on Jerusalem's Relations With the Southern Coastal Plain of ... Egypt, Israel, Ancient Near East, 46) 9783161606922, 9783161612541, 3161606922

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Orientalische Religionen in der Antike Ägypten, Israel, Alter Orient

Oriental Religions in Antiquity Egypt, Israel, Ancient Near East

(ORA) Herausgegeben von / Edited by Angelika Berlejung (Leipzig) Nils P. Heeßel (Marburg) Joachim Friedrich Quack (Heidelberg) Beirat / Advisory Board Uri Gabbay (Jerusalem) Michael Blömer (Aarhus) Christopher Rollston (Washington, D.C.) Rita Lucarelli (Berkeley)

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Jerusalem and the Coastal Plain in the Iron Age and Persian Periods New Studies on Jerusalem’s Relations with the Southern Coastal Plain of Israel/Palestine (c. 1200–300 BCE) Research on Israel and Aram in Biblical Times IV Edited by

Felix Hagemeyer

Mohr Siebeck

Felix Hagemeyer, born 1987; 2015 Dipl.-Theol.; since 2015 Research Assistant and PhD student at the Chair for History and History of Religion of Ancient Israel and its Environment, Leipzig University; since 2019 study of Archaeology and History of Ancient Europe, Leipzig University. orcid.org/0000-0001-9711-1556

ISBN 978-3-16-160692-2 / eISBN 978-3-16-161254-1 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-161254-1 ISSN 1869-0513 / eISSN 2568-7492 (Orientalische Religionen in der Antike) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2022  Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed on non-aging paper by Gulde Druck in Tübingen, and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

Preface Jerusalem’s relations with the southern Coastal Plain of Israel/Palestine in the Iron Age and Persian Periods (c. 1200–300 BCE) were of a dynamic and constantly changing character. These were at times peaceful-cooperative and at other times confrontational. The population of the Judaean mountains needed the ports on the Mediterranean coast as important access points to international trade networks. High-quality imports (e.g., perfumes, ointments) as well as raw and building materials (e.g., cedarwood) could only be acquired by sea. On the one hand, the favorable economic opportunities in the west were attractive and represented a decisive pull factor for migration from the Judaean hill country to the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. On the other hand, the wealth of the thriving coastal cities such as Ashkelon, Ashdod, and Gaza, as well as Ekron and Gath in the Inner Coastal Plain, aroused envy and resentment in Judah, as illustrated by texts in the Hebrew Bible such as Neh 13:23–24 and Zech 9:5–7. While Jerusalem has long attracted the attention of researchers from a wide range of scholarly fields, the southern Coastal Plain of Israel/Palestine has received increasing attention only in recent decades. Several long-term archaeological projects, especially at Ashkelon, Tel Miqne-Ekron, and Tell es-Safi/Gath, are now in the process of publication, making more and more data available that shed new light on the relationship between Judah/Jerusalem and the coastal sites. The ten contributions of the present volume therefore deal with the diverse economic, social and cultural relations of the two regions from different perspectives (Archaeology, Biblical Studies and History) and offer a unique opportunity to trace their development in a longue durée perspective. The majority of the articles edited in this volume were presented at the RIAB Minerva Center Colloquium “Jerusalem and the West: Perspectives from Archaeology, Biblical Studies, and History,” held at Leipzig University on December 4–5, 2019, and were supplemented by additional invited essays. The colloquium was organized as a subproject within the larger research framework of the German-Israeli Minerva Center for the Relations between Israel and Aram in Biblical Times (RIAB [aramisrael.org]) co-directed by Aren M. Maeir (Bar-Ilan University) and Angelika Berlejung (Leipzig University) and funded by the Minerva Stiftung (Munich). The organization of the colloquium and the publication of this book would not have been possible without the help of Angelika Berlejung and Aren M. Maeir, who encouraged me to undertake this project and supported me in many ways. I would also like to thank both of them, as well as Nils P. Heeßel and Joachim F. Quack, for including the volume in the series “Research on Israel and Aram in Biblical Times (RIAB)/Oriental Religions in Antiquity (ORA).” I am indebted to all the speakers who took part in the stimulating discussions in Leipzig and contributed to these proceedings. I would also

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like to thank the authors who joined the project after the colloquium and agreed to publish their research results in the volume. Furthermore, I want to express my gratitude to the anonymous peer reviewers for their essential comments and helpful remarks, which have contributed decisively to the quality of the book and all its parts. Special thanks go to Gunnar Lehmann and Haim Gitler who hold the rights of reproduction for some drawings and maps presented in this volume and have permitted their use by the authors. Students Ole Depenbrock and Helena Lindner are thanked for compiling the indices, as are Thomas Hackl, Tillman Gaitzsch and Johannes Seidel for their help in preparing the camera-ready copy. I am also very grateful to the professional team of the Mohr Siebeck publishing house in Tübingen for their support. I sincerely hope that this volume will provide a valuable basis for further scientific investigations on the extensive topic of Jerusalem’s relations to the west and will be a promising starting point for further research projects. Felix Hagemeyer Leipzig, January 2022

Table of Contents Preface ........................................................................................................................ V Abbreviations ............................................................................................................ IX FELIX HAGEMEYER Introduction ................................................................................................................. 1 AREN M. MAEIR Jerusalem and the West – Via Philistia: An Early Iron Age Perspective from Tell es-Safi/Gath ................................................................................................ 7 DAVID BEN-SHLOMO Jerusalem, Judah, and Philistia: Links during the Iron Age ........................................ 23 JESSE MICHAEL MILLEK Impact of Destruction on Trade at the End of the Late Bronze Age in the Southern Levant ............................................................................................... 39 HERMANN MICHAEL NIEMANN Expansion Policy of the Davidic Dynasty: Judah from the Late 10th to the Early 6th Centuries BCE ....................................................................................... 61 CHRISTIAN LOCATELL, JOSEPH (JOE) UZIEL, ITZHAQ SHAI Border Town and Capital: A Comparative Analysis of Iron Age II Tel Burna and Jerusalem ............................................................................................ 87 DIETER VIEWEGER and JENNIFER ZIMNI DEI Excavations on the Southwestern Slope of Mount Zion .................................... 115 YUVAL GADOT Jerusalem, the Reign of Manasseh and the Assyrian World Order ........................... 145

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BENEDIKT HENSEL The Ark Narrative(s) of 1 Sam *4:1b–7:1 / 2 Sam 6* between Philistia, Jerusalem, and Assyria: A New Approach for a Historical Contextualization and Literary-Historical Classification ...................................................................... 163 TILMANN GAITZSCH Tarshish – A Golden West Turning East: A Study on the History of an Iridescent Term ........................................................................................................ 193 MANFRED OEMING The Spirit of the Book of Nehemiah and the “Language of Ashdod”: Nehemiah 13:23–24 as an Anti-Hellenistic Polemic ................................................ 215 Contributors ............................................................................................................. 233

Indexes Index of Sources ...................................................................................................... 235 1. Old Testament ............................................................................................ 235 2. Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha .................................................................. 240 3. Qumran ...................................................................................................... 240 4. Ancient Near East....................................................................................... 240 5. Classical Sources ........................................................................................ 240 Index of Ancient Names .......................................................................................... 241 1. Personal Names .......................................................................................... 241 2. Place, Mountain and River Names .............................................................. 242 3. Gods and Supernatural Beings .................................................................... 245 Index of Subjects ..................................................................................................... 246

Abbreviations ÄAT AB ABD ABS ADPV AIL AJA ANEM ANES.Sup AOAT ATD ATD.E AThANT ʿAtiqot BANEA.MS BAR BARIS BASOR BBB BETL Biblica BIFAO BiKi BKAT BN BN.NF BThS BWANT BZAW CBET CHANE DBAT EBR ErIs FAT FAT II FOTL FRLANT FzB GAT HA-ESI

Ägypten und Altes Testament Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Dictionary, D.N. FREEDMAN (ed.), 6 vols., New York 1992 Archaeology and Biblical Studies Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins Ancient Israel and Its Literature American Journal of Archaeology Ancient Near East Monographs Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Supplement Series Alter Orient und Altes Testament Das Alte Testament Deutsch Das Alte Testament Deutsch, Ergänzungsreihe Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments ʿAtiqot: Journal of the Israel Department of Antiquities British Association of Near Eastern Archaeology, Monograph Series Biblical Archaeology Review British Archaeological Reports International Series Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bonner Biblische Beiträge Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium Biblica: Journal of Pontifical Biblical Institute Bulletin de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale Bibel und Kirche Biblischer Kommentar Altes Testament Biblische Notizen Biblische Notizen, Neue Folge Biblisch-Theologische Studien Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Dielheimer Blätter zum Alten Testament und seiner Rezeption in der Alten Kirche Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception, H.J. KLAUCK et al. (eds.), Berlin 2009ff. Eretz-Israel Forschungen zum Alten Testament Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 2. Reihe The Forms of the Old Testament Literature Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Forschung zur Bibel Grundrisse zum Alten Testament Hadashot Arkheologiyot: Excavations and Surveys in Israel

X HAT HCOT HdA HdO HeBAI HThKAT IAA Reports ICAANE ICC IEJ Iraq JAOS JBL JBVO JESHO JHS JJS JNES JQR JSOT JSOT.Sup JSS KAT Levant LHBOTS NEA NEAEHL NSKAT NTG OBO OBO.SA OJA OLA OLB ORA OTL OTS PEF PEQ Qadmoniot QD Qedem RB SAHL SBL Semitica SHCANE SIMA SJOT

Abbreviations Handbuch zum Alten Testament Historical Commentary on the Old Testament Handbuch der Archäologie Handbuch der Orientalistik, I. Abteilung – Der Nahe und Mittlere Osten Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament Israel Antiquities Authority Reports International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East International Critical Commentary Israel Exploration Journal Iraq: Journal of the British Institute for the Study of Iraq Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Biblical Literature Jenaer Beiträge zum Vorderen Orient Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient Journal of Hebrew Scripture Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Jewish Quarterly Review Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series Journal of Semitic Studies Kommentar zum Alten Testament Levant: The Journal of the Council for British Research in the Levant The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies Near Eastern Archaeology The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, E. STERN (ed.), 5 vols., Jerusalem/New York 1993ff. Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar Altes Testament Neue Theologische Grundrisse Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis, Series Archaeologica Oxford Journal of Archaeology Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta Orte und Landschaften der Bibel Orientalische Religionen in der Antike Old Testament Library Old Testament Studies Palestine Exploration Fund Palestine Exploration Quarterly Qadmoniot: A Journal for the Antiquities of Eretz-Israel and Bible Lands Quaestiones Disputatae Qedem: The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology Revue biblique Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant Society of Biblical Literature Semitica: Revue publiée par l’Institut d’études sémitiques du Collège de France Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament

Abbreviations SMNIA TA Talanta ThWAT ThZ Transeu UF UTB VT VT.Sup WBC WdO WMANT WUNT ZAW ZBK ZDPV ZPE ZThK

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Tel Aviv University, Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology, Monograph Series Tel Aviv Talanta: Proceedings of the Dutch Archaeological and Historical Society Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, G.J. BOTTERWECK/H. RINGGREN (eds.), Stuttgart 1970ff. Theologische Zeitschrift Transeuphratène Ugarit-Forschungen Uni-Taschenbücher Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum, Supplements World Biblical Commentary Die Welt des Orients Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zürcher Bibelkommentare Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

Introduction Felix Hagemeyer∗ “Whoever commands the sea, commands the trade; whosoever commands the trade of the world commands the riches of the world, and consequently the world itself.”1

The sea and seafaring have always fascinated mankind. Rapid travel by water enabled extensive long-distance trade and also new cultural discoveries. But great dangers such as storms and rough seas were also associated with shipping. However, as the pottery finds from Jerusalem indicate, the economy of Judah was predominantly local for most of the Iron Age, with little evidence of imports.2 After all, Jerusalem and the small Judaean hill country lay inland and thus farther away from the large coastal cities of southern Israel/Palestine such as Gaza, Ashkelon and Ashdod, as well as the trade routes on the Mediterranean. Nevertheless, the kings and the elites of Judah needed the ports of the coast in order to obtain high-value luxury goods (e.g., perfumes, ointments) and building materials (e.g., cedarwood). However, since Jerusalem and its environs were a rather humble region for much of the Iron Age, the prosperity of the coastal cities aroused resentment and led to cultural and religious demarcation tendencies in Judah that can be reconstructed well from biblical literature.3 During the early Iron Age, the emergence of a new material culture, characterized by strong Aegean and Cypriot affinities, left its traces on the coast. Particularly characteristic in this regard is the appearance of locally made monochrome Helladic IIIC-style pottery types. The allochthonous influence on the new pottery repertoire (and other artifacts) was in older research approaches associated with large waves of immigration from the Aegean-Cypriot area and the arrival of warlike colonizers, the Philistines.4 Today, however, it is widely accepted that southwestern Israel/Palestine was shaped over a long period of time by continuous (not only sea-borne but also land-borne) immigration of rather small groups of people. Recent studies show that the coastal area functioned as a contact zone that enabled the nonviolent interaction, mixing, and entanglement of diverse, ethnically, socially, and culturally inhomogeneous migrant groups with

My thanks go to Gunnar Lehmann for providing me with the geographical map of southern Israel/Palestine. 1 Sir Walter Raleigh (1552–1618). Cf. RALEIGH 1964:325. 2 BEN-SHLOMO 2017; 2018; 2019. 3 E.g., Neh 13:23–24; Zech 9:5–7. Cf. NIEMANN 2002:82–89; 2013:258–264. 4 See, e.g., MACALISTER 1914; ALT 1944; ALBRIGHT 1975. ∗

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the local Semitic population.5 As a result, there was a dynamic change of the material culture of the coast, the remains of which are now referred to as “Philistine culture.” According to the biblical Books of Judges and Samuel, which, however, do not date to the early Iron Age, the Philistines were perceived as a threat in Judah from the very beginning.6 But as Aren M. Maeir demonstrates in the book’s first contribution, the relationship between coast and highlands was considerably more complex. In his essay Maeir discusses the importance of Tell es-Safi/Gath in Iron Age I and Iron Age IIA as an important intermediate trading post and place of cultural exchange between Jerusalem and the west, i.e., the coast. After presenting and analyzing the archaeological evidence for imports from Phoenicia, Cyprus, and elsewhere, the author is able to show that Jerusalem’s near and far relations appear to have been connected to or passed through the southern Coastal Plain. Moreover, he demonstrates that Gath exerted a great influence on Jerusalem and Judah until its destruction by Hazael of Damascus in the second half of the 9th century BCE.

Fig. 1: Map of southern Israel/Palestine (© Gunnar Lehmann).

Following are two contributions by David Ben-Shlomo and Jesse Michael Millek, which are also dedicated to the southern Coastal Plain. David Ben-Shlomo studies the early Iron Age material culture of the coast and provides a detailed analysis of Philistine Bichrome Pottery, figurines, and also Late Philistine Decorated Ware (LPDW). On the 5

E.g., HITCHCOCK/MAEIR 2013; MAEIR 2018; STOCKHAMMER 2018; HAGEMEYER in press. On the portrayal of the Philistines in the biblical texts on the emergence of the monarchy in Israel/Judah, see now KOCH 2020. 6

Introduction

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basis of the finds discussed, the author is able to (re-)construct the complexity of the economic, cultural, and social interactions between the coastal cities and the Judaean hill country for the period in question. Important preconditions for the developments in Judah and Philistia during Iron Age I and IIA are analyzed in the contribution by Jesse Michael Millek on the question of how severely the larger settlements and cities in the Levant were affected by destruction at the end of the Late Bronze Age. The aim of the study is furthermore to investigate the impact of destruction on the cessation or near cessation of southern Levant’s trade with Cyprus and Mycenaean Greece in the late 14th and 13th centuries BCE, as visible in the archaeological record. After considering the southern Coastal Plain, the next two essays by Hermann Michael Niemann as well as Christian Locatell, Joe Uziel and Itzhaq Shai turn to the Judaean mountains. Hermann Michael Niemann discusses the development of the territory of the Davidic kings from the 10th to the early 6th century BCE, especially possible expansion attempts towards the coast. Niemann develops the hypothesis that the Davidides were essentially city kings who could only extend their territory beyond the highlands with direct or indirect help from outside. The significance of the Judaean border in Iron Age II is studied by Christian Locatell, Joe Uziel and Itzhaq Shai, who contrast Tel Burna and Jerusalem in a comparative analysis. The authors present an up-to-date synthesis of the archaeological finds from Tel Burna and reconstruct the administration, economy, agriculture and infrastructure of this border town. In addition, the interaction of Tel Burna with the capital Jerusalem is elaborated. Two case studies concerning the archaeology of Jerusalem are contributed by Dieter Vieweger and Jennifer Zimni as well as Yuval Gadot. Vieweger and Zimni present the new results of the German excavations on the southwestern slope of Mount Zion. The excavated remains, which (possibly) date from the Iron Age II to the Middle Ages, reveal the strong changes in importance and function to which the investigated area was exposed. While in the early Roman and Byzantine periods wealthy inhabitants settled on the southwestern slope, the area seems to have served as an industrial quarter in the early Islamic period. In the following essay Yuval Gadot examines the influence and significance of Manasseh of Judah’s rule on archaeologically verifiable building activity in Jerusalem and its environs under the conditions of the pax assyriaca, hitherto attributed at least in part to his predecessor Hezekiah. Gadot demonstrates that highly specialized land exploitation, erection of monumental landmarks, and construction of gardens and irrigation systems are expressions of a selective adaptation of aspects of Assyrian culture by Judaean elites in the first half of the 7th century BCE. The last three contributions of the volume by Benedikt Hensel, Tilmann Gaitzsch and Manfred Oeming are devoted to the field of Biblical Studies. The essay by Benedikt Hensel deals with the Ark narrative of 1 Sam *4:1b–7:1 / 2 Sam 6* and the relations of the Philistine coast, Assyria and Judah reflected therein. A new historical contextualization and literary-historical classification is presented, leading to the identification of the Ark narrative as an anti-Assyrian account intended to legitimize Jerusalem as the new cultic center of “Israel” after 722 and 701 BCE, while opposing the influence of the southern Coastal Plain on Judah during the same period. The following contribution by Tilmann Gaitzsch examines the conceptual history of the term taršîš in the Hebrew Bible with a focus on the Book of Isaiah. The author is able to outline that taršîš initially

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denoted an area of the western Mediterranean and was eventually used as a cipher for distant regions of the world. At the same time, a connection between the environment of the texts and those distant regions is postulated, expressed in the hope that YHWH worshippers will one day return to Jerusalem from there as well. With regard to the reconstruction of Jerusalem’s relationship to the coast, biblical texts such as Neh 13:23–24 and Zech 9:5–7 have increasingly come into focus in recent years.7 In this respect, in the last contribution of the volume, Manfred Oeming gives a new approach to Neh 13:23–24 and the “language of Ashdod/Ashdodite” mentioned there. He identifies strong connections of Ashdod to the Greek world and proposes a post-chronistic dating of Neh 13:23–24 as an expression of the Kulturkampf of the conservative Judaean circles against an incipient Hellenization in Jerusalem and Judah in the early 2nd century BCE. Overall, this book aims to open up new and multi-layered perspectives on Jerusalem’s complex and dynamic relations with the west in the Iron Age and the Persian periods. Despite the multidisciplinarity and diversity of the individual contributions, the breadth of this multifaceted topic can only be barely touched upon here. Nevertheless, it is hoped that the reader will be inspired to further scientific work and that important desiderata for future research can be identified. Now, however, it is time to set out, travel westward, and finally head for the ports of the Mediterranean!

List of Figures Fig. 1: Map of southern Israel/Palestine (© Gunnar Lehmann).

Bibliography ALBRIGHT, W.F. (1975), Syria, the Philistines and Phoenicia, in: I.E.S. EDWARDS et al. (eds.), Cambridge Ancient History, Vol. II/2, Cambridge (3rd edition), 507–536. ALT, A. (1944), Ägyptische Tempel in Palästina und die Landnahme der Philister, ZDPV 67(1), 1–20. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2017), Jerusalem’s Trade Networks in the Iron Age II as Seen through the Archaeometric Analysis of Pottery, in: Y. GADOT et al. (eds.), New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region 11, Jerusalem, 177–187 (Hebrew). BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2018), Judah and the Philistines in the Iron Age I and IIA, in: I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell it in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of Aren M. Maeir on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Münster, 269–282. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2019), The Iron Age Pottery of Jerusalem: A Typological and Technological Study (Ariel University Institute of Archaeology, Monograph Series 2), Ariel. BERLEJUNG, A. (2021), What is “Ashdodite”?: Observations on Neh 13:23–24 and Zech 9:6, in: A. BERLEJUNG, Divine Secrets and Human Imaginations: Studies on the History of Religion and Anthropology of the Ancient Near East and the Old Testament (ORA 42), Tübingen, 383–393.

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E.g., BERLEJUNG 2021; HAGEMEYER 2021.

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HAGEMEYER, F. (2021), Melting Pot, Salad Bowl, Contact Zone?: The Southern Coastal Plain of Israel/Palestine in the 5th–4th Century BCE, in: L.C. JONKER/A. BERLEJUNG/I. CORNELIUS (eds.), Multilingualism in Ancient Contexts: Perspectives from Ancient Near Eastern and Early Christian Contexts, Stellenbosch, 94–109 https://doi.org/10.52779/9781991201171/06. HAGEMEYER, F. (in press), “Sie kamen, sahen, siegten […]?”: Die Migration der Philister nach Israel/Palästina und die Herausbildung ihrer Kultur in der frühen Eisenzeit, in: N. NEBES/I. GERLACH (eds.), Migration und Kulturtransfer in den Kulturen des Vorderen Orients in der Antike (JBVO), Wiesbaden. HITCHCOCK, L.A./MAEIR, A.M. (2013), Beyond Creolization and Hybridity: Entangled and Transcultural Identities in Philistia, in: W.P. VAN PELT (ed.), Archaeology and Cultural Mixture: Creolization, Hybridity and Mestizaje (Archaeological Review from Cambridge 28), Cambridge, 51–73. KOCH, I. (2020), On Philistines and Early Israelite Kings: Memories and Perceptions, in: J.J. KRAUSE/ O. SERGI/K. WEINGART (eds.), Saul, Benjamin, and the Emergence of Monarchy in Israel: Biblical and Archaeological Perspectives (SBL – AIL 40), Atlanta, 7–31. MAEIR, A.M. (2018), The Philistines be upon thee, Samson (Jud. 16:20): Reassessing the Martial Nature of the Philistines – Archaeological Evidence vs. Ideological Image?, in: Ł. NIESIOŁOWSKISPANÒ/M. WĘCOWSKI (eds.), Change, Continuity, and Connectivity: North-Eastern Mediterranean at the Turn of the Bronze Age and in the Early Iron Age (Philippika 118), Wiesbaden, 158–168. NIEMANN, H.M. (2002), Nachbarn und Gegner, Konkurrenten und Verwandte Judas: Die Philister zwischen Geographie und Ökonomie, Geschichte und Theologie, in: U. HÜBNER/E.A. KNAUF (eds.), Kein Land für sich allein: Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/Palästina und Ebirnâri für Manfred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag (OBO 186), Fribourg/Göttingen, 70–91. NIEMANN, H.M. (2013), Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin: Philistines, Shepheleans, Judeans between Geography and Economy, History and Theology, in: A.E. KILLEBREW/G. LEHMANN (eds.), The Philistines and Other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology (SBL – ABS 15), Atlanta, 243– 264. RALEIGH, W. (1964), The Works of Sir Walter Ralegh, Kt.: Now first Collected, Vol. 8: Miscellaneous Works (Burt Franklin Research & Source Works Series 73), New York (reprint of 1829). STOCKHAMMER, P.W. (2018), Rethinking Philistia as a Contact Zone, in: I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell it in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of Aren M. Maeir on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Wiesbaden, 375–384.

Jerusalem and the West – Via Philistia An Early Iron Age Perspective from Tell es-Safi/Gath Aren M. Maeir 1. Introduction The region of the southern Coastal Plain of Israel/Palestine is termed “Philistia” in biblical geography, denoting the region in which the Philistine culture and Philistine cities existed during the Iron Age. Recent studies on the dating, appearance and development of the Philistine culture1 indicate that the process of the development of the Philistine culture was much more complex and multi-faceted than previously thought. As opposed to many who saw this culture as a rather monolithic Mycenaean-related migration,2 more and more evidence shows that the Philistine culture was in fact comprised of various elements, from various regions in the eastern Mediterranean, along with local Canaanite elements, and that this process was not the result of a short term migration event, but rather, a more extended process.3 In light of these results, it seems that early Iron Age Philistia might be defined a reception zone – that is an area in which multiple influences, and most likely, multiple peoples of various origins – came together. While without a doubt the intensity and level of inter-regional trade and contacts diminished in the early Iron Age (in comparison to the Late Bronze Age),4 it is clear that both through the arrival of non-local populations, and from the evidence of trade during the early Iron Age,5 that Philistia at the time continued to play a role in inter-regional connectivity. Evidence of inter-regional contacts and trade, and in fact quite intensive connectivity, continue in Philistia in general, and at Tell es-Safi/Gath in particular, beyond the very early Iron Age. During the entire Iron Age I, and into the Iron Age IIA (up until the destruction of the site by Hazael, ca. 830 BCE), extensive evidence of these connections can be seen.6

1

E.g., MAEIR/HITCHCOCK 2017; MAEIR 2020; STOCKHAMMER 2017. E.g., DOTHAN 1982; SANDARS 1985; OREN 2000. 3 MAEIR et al. 2019. 4 E.g., ROUTLEDGE/MCGEOUGH 2009; SHERRATT 2016; MURRAY 2017. 5 E.g., MASTER 2009; MASTER/MOUNTJOY/MOMMSEN 2015; MAEIR in press. 6 MAEIR in press. 2

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2. The Evidence Let us start with evidence for connections between Phoenicia and Philistia. This includes: 1) 2) 3) 4)

Pottery imported from Phoenicia itself; “Phoenician influenced” pottery deriving from Cyprus; Objects that seem to indicate Phoenician influence; Finally, a few objects may have originated in Phoenicia or arrived at Tell esSafi/Gath through Phoenician-related trade.

The finds from Tell es-Safi/Gath illustrate this very well. 2.1 Phoenician Pottery Examples were found in late Iron I and early Iron IIA contexts at Tell es-Safi/Gath, including: –

From Area A, Stratum A4, (late Iron I/early Iron IIA) a fragment of Phoenician Bichrome ware was recovered,7 shown to derive Phoenicia.8 Fragments of Phoenician Bichrome vessels were found in Stratum D3 in Area D, in the lower city, in association with the temple and metallurgical area dating to the late Iron IIA (destroyed in the “Hazael” destruction).9

–

2.2 Cypriote Pottery Pottery of Cypriote style and origin was found in the Iron I and Iron IIA levels. This includes a fragment of Cypriote White Painted pottery from Area A, in a late Iron I/early Iron IIA context,10 which is of Cypriote origin.11 Several examples of Cypriote Black-on-Red pottery, including several juglets and fragments of a bowl, were found in the late Iron IIA “Hazael” destruction level in Area A,12 as well as in the lower city, in Areas D West and M (unpublished). 2.3 Phoenician Influences (?) There are various objects that seem to hint to possible Phoenician influence at Iron Age I and IIA Tell es-Safi/Gath. The “Late Philistine Decorated Ware” (LPDW) family,13 is characterized by several shapes (whether entire vessels or vessel parts) and decorative patterns (in particular, thin 7

ZUKERMAN 2012:299, fig. 13.15:6. BEN-SHLOMO 2012:412. 9 WORKMAN et al. 2020. 10 ZUKERMAN 2012:299, fig. 13.12:8. 11 BEN-SHLOMO et al. 2008:964; BEN-SHLOMO 2012:412. 12 SHAI/MAEIR 2012:340.342.350–351, fig. 14.19:JL 10–11 and pls. 14.9:8, 14.10:7, 14.12:7. 13 BEN-SHLOMO/SHAI/MAEIR 2004. 8

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painted horizontal lines, but occasionally other designs) which point to an influence of Phoenician pottery styles on the producers of this distinctive group. While Faust14 has repeatedly insisted that this should be seen as evidence of strong Phoenician influence in Philistia in the Iron IIA, this influence is limited. This is evident since these shapes and decoration only partially imitate Phoenician forms. In addition, as previously noted,15 there are distinct local Philistine traditions that continue at this time in pottery in Philistia, as seen in the LPDW (such as the iconic Philistine bird decorations) and in other contemporaneous types (e.g., decorated chalices).16 Clearly then, while there is influence of Phoenician pottery traditions, the local potters chose to create a unique group of vessels, blending various local and foreign influences. No less important, the LPDW was traded with other areas, and at times imitated. For example, in addition to imports and locally made examples in Judah (see more on this below),17 LPDW may have even reached as far as Phoenicia itself.18 Additional evidence of Phoenician influence can be seen in two fluted ceramic bowl, both found in the Iron IIA destruction level at Tell es-Safi/Gath, and clearly of local production, that most probably are local imitations of Phoenician style bowls (metal and ceramic) known during this period.19 Two bowls from the Iron IIA destruction level,20 seemingly produced locally, are identical in shape to the so-called “Samaria Bowls,” which are in fact Phoenician types termed “Red Slip Bowls.”21 These types are seen at Iron IIA sites in the southern Levant,22 but a Phoenician influence on the shape and decoration is highly likely. A possible connection with the region of Phoenicia during the late Iron Age I may be hinted in an ivory bowl from the late Iron I levels in Area A in the upper city.23 As opposed to most of the ivories from early Iron Age Philistia which are local,24 the parallels of this bowl (in particular from Megiddo) indicate that it derives from more northern regions of the southern Levant, perhaps Phoenicia. 2.4 Imports from other Regions at Iron Age I–IIA Tell es-Safi/Gath In addition to the Phoenician objects and influence noted above, the Iron I and Iron IIA levels at Tell es-Safi/Gath have produced various finds indicating connections to other regions in the ancient Near East.

14

FAUST 2015; 2020. MAEIR/SHAI 2015. 16 MAEIR/SHAI 2005. 17 E.g., UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015; COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017; BEN-SHLOMO 2018; 2019:237–239. 18 E.g., CHAPMAN 1972:fig. 29; SZANTON 2017:51, n. 62. 19 MAEIR/SHAI 2007; SZANTON 2017:38–39, pl. 3:1. 20 SZANTON 2017:34–37, pl. 2:3–4. 21 STERN 2015:436–437, pl. 4:1.4–6. 22 SZANTON 2017:34–37. 23 MAEIR et al. 2015. 24 BEN-SHLOMO/DOTHAN 2006; BEN-DOR EVIAN 2018. 15

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Noteworthy is a portion of an early Protogeometic bowl from a late Iron I/early Iron IIA context in Area A, which as of now, is the earliest Greek Iron Age import known in the Levant.25 Several objects of apparent Egyptian origin (or influence) were found in various late Iron I and Iron IIA contexts at Tell es-Safi/Gath. This includes various types of seals and sealings,26 as well as assorted faience amulets.27 This fits in with other evidence of Egyptian imports and influence in Iron I and Iron IIA Philistia,28 and in southern Phoenicia.29 Other regions are represented as well. Isotopic analysis of bronze objects found at Tell es-Safi/Gath point to a source in the Arabah.30 The apparent role that Tell esSafi/Gath played in the transportation of copper from the Arabah through Philistia,31 is further strengthened by evidence of Arabah copper in Greece.32 As previously argued33 the transportation of copper from the Arabah through Tell es-Safi/Gath, was part of the extensive and broad ranging trade contacts in the eastern Mediterranean during the late Iron I and early Iron IIA (on this, see below). All told, these finds indicate that during the late Iron I and Iron IIA, up until its destruction by Hazael (ca. 830 BCE), Tell es-Safi/Gath had trade and cultural connections with various parts of the western Mediterranean. Copper (and perhaps other materials) arrived from the south and southeast; ongoing connections exist with Judah, to the east (see further, below); Egyptian objects and influences from the southwest; Phoenician and Cypriot imports and influences in pottery and other objects from the north and northwest; and Iron Age Greece from the far west. Recent evidence of several olive oil presses from Iron IB and Iron IIA contexts at Tell es-Safi/Gath,34 might hint that in addition to serving as a trade node for transfer of objects from various region, perhaps, just as in the later Iron Age at Philistine Tel Miqne-Ekron,35 Tell es-Safi/Gath was a producer and exporter of olive oil. These finds and influences indicate that Tell es-Safi/Gath were part of the extensive webs of connectivity that existed in the ancient Near East and the Mediterranean in the earlier Iron Age. Not only did the site play a role in the trade of copper from the Arabah (see above), but one can assume that it had a role in other facets of trade and connections of various kinds, in various materials, with various cultures and regions.36

25

MAEIR/FANTALKIN/ZUKERMAN 2009; ZUKERMAN 2012:298–299, pl. 13.12:15. KEEL 2013:94–123; MÜNGER 2018. 27 WIMMER/GÖRG 2020. 28 E.g., DOTHAN 1998; BEN-DOR EVIAN 2011; 2012; 2018. 29 WAIMAN-BARAK/GILBOA/GOREN 2014. 30 ELIYAHU-BEHAR/YAHALOM-MACK 2018:813. 31 FANTALKIN/FINKELSTEIN 2006; BEN-YOSEF/SERGI 2018; ELIYAHU-BEHAR/YAHALOM-MACK 2018; WORKMAN et al. 2020. 32 KIDERLEN et al. 2016. 33 BEN-YOSEF/SERGI 2018; BEN-YOSEF 2019; MAEIR 2021; in press. 34 MAEIR/WELCH/ENIUKHINA 2020. 35 E.g., GITIN 2017. 36 BEN-YOSEF 2019; MAEIR in press. 26

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3. Discussion As I have stressed elsewhere,37 an awareness of the complex nature of these connections is warranted, and eastern Mediterranean trade should not be seen as primarily involving the Phoenicians.38 While Phoenician trade did play an important role in the Iron Age Mediterranean, other were involved as well. Thus, materials coming from the south and southeast (and further on, towards Southeast Asia), were of major importance.39 Likewise, materials from Egypt, and beyond that, Sub-Saharan Africa, are not to be forgotten. In the Mediterranean itself, trade with central40 and western cultures are known.41 Even if the Phoenicians served as the primary intermediaries and traders, for these latter materials, the complex nature of these connections is clear. Interestingly, during the mid-9th century BCE, it appears that the connections between Phoenicia and Philistia may have been curtailed. At this time,42 Dor became an Israelite city, and its connection with the Mediterranean was limited. The region of the Sharon, around Dor, was under the control of the Israelite Kingdom, and a direct, unhindered land bridge between southern Phoenicia and Philistia may not have been open at the time, with connections between these two close regions limited to maritime routes.43 The development of the Philistine culture is likely reflected in the role Philistia played in this complex web of connectivity in the late Iron I and early Iron IIA. As discussed previously,44 the development of the Philistine culture, starting from a complex “entangled” culture, in which various non-local and Levantine traditions were combined to create the “Philistine” culture of the early Iron Age. With time, various nonlocal attributes became less apparent – but until late in the Iron Age, aspects of the original non-Levantine components of Philistine culture are seen. Faust45 suggests that as of the 10th century BCE, the Philistines, due to pressure of the early Judahite Monarchy, stopped using most of the Aegean-oriented cultural facets. Instead, he believes a strong Phoenician influence can be seen at this time. I have debated this previously

37

MAEIR 2021. E.g., NAM 2012:189–190; MASTER 2018. 39 Copper from the Arabah (above), as well as incense and other products, coming from Arabia, and farther afield (e.g., Africa, the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia) seem to be part of this trade (e.g., NAMDAR/NEUMANN/WEINER 2010; NAMDAR et al. 2013; FULLER et al. 2011; SOMAGLINO/TALLET 2011; 2013; BOIVIN et al. 2014: 553–554; BEN-YOSEF 2019). The possibility that these patterns were even more complex should be taken into account, as perhaps hinted by various data from the Bronze and Iron Ages (e.g., BOIVIN et al. 2014:553; HOOGERVORST/BOIVIN 2018:213; NAMDAR/COHEN-WEINBERGER/ZUCKERMAN 2018; LINARES et al. 2019). 40 MAEIR et al. 2009. 41 ESHEL et al. 2019; WOOD/MONTERO-RUIZ/MATINÓN-TORRES 2019; WOOD/BELL/MONTERORUIZ 2020. 42 GILBOA/SHARON/BLOCH-SMITH 2015; NA’AMAN 2016; ARIE 2020. 43 Note that ARIE (2020) suggests that the Israelite control of this region continued until the mid8th century BCE. 44 E.g., MAEIR 2020; in press; MAEIR/HITCHCOCK 2017; STOCKHAMMER 2017. 45 E.g., FAUST 2015; 2020. 38

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regarding ceramic parallels,46 but I believe this is so in general. While Phoenician culture was a highly influential culture, in Philistia and in the Iron Age Levant and beyond, it is mistaken to assume that the development of the Philistine culture from the 10th century BCE and beyond was overly influenced by the Phoenicians. As seen above, a broad range of connections and influences are seen at Gath in the Iron I and Iron IIA. While the Phoenician influence was one of these, other vectors of influence on Iron Age Philistine culture should be taken into account. Numerous regions and cultures in the eastern Mediterranean played a part in the expanding webs of connectivity at this time.47 Thus, as noted above, suggestions of focus on a specific culture, such as the Phoenicians,48 even if it is relatively well known from the archaeological and textual sources, loses sight of these other components. These various cultures were nodes in long, complex and multi-pronged webs of connections, in which complex cultural influences and social developments were in play. Thus, Iron Age connectivity in the Mediterranean and western Asia should be seen through a “rhizomic” lens49 – as opposed to a linear “arborescent” understanding.50 The fall of Gath in the late 9th century BCE (Hazael’s conquest)51 has a major effect on the character of this connectivity. Following Hazael’s conquests and regional dominance,52 along with the reemergence of extensive trade in Cypriote copper (and in parallel, the cessation of copper production in the Arabah),53 there is a resurgence of Phoenician trade, but its character changes with the Assyrian domination of the Levant in the mid-8th century BCE onward, and the economic consequences that it brings.54 Even during these later phases in the Iron Age, long after Philistine Gath has ceased being a major player, the various connections, from around the ancient near east and Mediterranean, continue to be seen in Philistia.55 As opposed to the evidence noted above, of intensive connections between Philistia and other regions in the Iron I and Iron Age IIA, when one shifts focus to Jerusalem, and that matter, Judah in general, during this same period, the picture is very different. As discussed in this volume by Ben-Shlomo,56 there is some evidence of non-local finds from Jerusalem and its surroundings during the late Iron I and Iron IIA, but this is 46

MAEIR/SHAI 2015. While one might look at the tradition in Amos 1:9 of Tyre sending Israelite slaves to Edom, as representing “an awkward geographical route” (MASTER 2018:139*, n. 4), this might very well reflect the wide-ranging and complex web of connections at the time. 48 E.g., FAUST/WEISS 2005; FAUST 2015; 2020; MASTER 2018. 49 DELEUZE/GUATTARI 1987. 50 Although HOLLADAY 2006, FAUST/WEISS 2011, NAM 2012, ARUZ 2014 and MASTER 2014 suggest more complex spheres of interaction, they are still, by and large, linear (“arborescent”) in character. 51 MAEIR 2012. 52 BEN-YOSEF/SERGI 2018; MAEIR 2021. 53 FANTALKIN/FINKELSTEIN 2006:31; BEN-YOSEF/SERGI 2018; BEN-YOSEF 2019a:373. 54 E.g., GITIN 1997; 2003; HOLLADAY 2006; YOUNGER 2014; including a reinvigorated Phoenicia, e.g., ARIE 2020. 55 E.g., WALDBAUM 2002; 2011; 2015; BELL 2011; WALTON 2011; 2018; GITIN 2012; 2015; BENSHLOMO 2014; GITIN/BRANDL 2018; MASTER 2018. 56 See as well BEN-SHLOMO 2018; 2019; BEN-SHLOMO/MOMMSEN 2018. 47

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of limited character. As will be noted below, most of these non-local finds, or local imitations of non-local character, derive from, or are influenced by, the Philistine culture. Already in the Iron I, there is evidence of Philistine 2 (Bichrome) pottery at various sites in the region of Jerusalem.57 Similarly, head cups (“rhyta”) in Philistine style have been reported as well, from the City of David58 and Khirbet Dawara,59 and several Philistine style Iron I figurines.60 From the Iron IIA, as noted already above, LPDW pottery appears in Jerusalem, and at Moẓa. Interestingly, some of the LPDW vessels are imported from Philistia, while other are locally made imitations produced in the Jerusalem region.61 In addition to this, there are close similarities between figurines found at Tell es-Safi/Gath, and those at Moẓa, just to the west of Jerusalem.62 It is worth noting that evidence of the connections between Jerusalem and Gath can be seen at Tell es-Safi/Gath as well. In the Iron IIA temple in Area D in the lower city of Tell es-Safi/Gath, right next to the monolithic two-horned stone altar, a jar originating in the Jerusalem area (based on petrography) and with a Judahite inscription (ʾabtm) was found,63 seemingly an offering placed in the temple, originating from the region of Jerusalem. On the other hand, non-local finds in Iron I and Iron IIA Jerusalem, which are not connected to Philistia (whether imports or influences) are rare. This includes the evidence for the importation of fish to Jerusalem during the Iron IIA,64 as well as anepigraphic bullae, in Phoenician style (though locally made),65 from Iron Age IIA contexts in Jerusalem.66 What is not found in Jerusalem from this period is evidence of other non-local finds, from other regions in the Levant and beyond, such as those surveyed above from Philistia. I would like to suggest that the limited evidence of foreign connections in Jerusalem at the time is due to two main reasons. The first is the somewhat parochial nature of the city during the late Iron I and early Iron IIA. Even if one accepts, as I do, that there was a polity in Jerusalem in the Iron Age IIA, its role and influence in regions beyond the immediate surroundings of Jerusalem was limited. Similarly, if one claims that a site

57

BEN-SHLOMO 2018:269–270; 2019:357. MAZAR/KARLIN 2015; KARLIN/MAZAR 2015. 59 As noted by NA’AMAN 2012. 60 BEN-SHLOMO 2019:358. On a similar note, the appearance of cooking jugs outside of Philistia, from the late Iron I and onward, has been suggested as evidence of Philistine cultural influences in the southern Levant (BEN-SHLOMO et al. 2008). 61 UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015; COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017. 62 BEN-SHLOMO 2019:359. 63 MAEIR/ESHEL 2014; BEN-SHLOMO 2019:358. 64 REICH et al. 2007. 65 GURWIN 2010; ARIE/GOREN/SAMET 2011. 66 REICH et al. 2007; KEEL 2012; 2015. 58

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such as Khirbet Qeiyafa is connected to Judah,67 this was a short lived and limited phenomenon.68 For the most part, Jerusalem had little connections and influences in the southern Levant. The second reason is that most, if not all of Jerusalem’s connections to the west, and to the wide web of connectivity that existed at the time, was channeled through Philistia. As opposed to Jerusalem and Judah, as noted above, Philistia was a “player” in this web of connectivity in the early Iron Age. One can even suggest that perhaps, with the dominant role that the Kingdom of Gath played in the late Iron I and early Iron Age IIA, there was some sort of political dependency between Gath and Jerusalem. Whether or not this completely stopped Judah from expanding into the Shephelah, prior to the destruction of Gath by Hazael, is debated,69 but one can easily envision a situation that Gath was the dominant polity in the region, and Jerusalem was subservient to Gath (or at least somewhat marginal in importance). This would explain why evidence of intra-regional connections in Jerusalem at the time are limited, and those that exist seem to be related and connected to Philistia. Ben-Shlomo70 recently noted that while there are connections between Philistia and Jerusalem in the Iron IIA, in later stages of the Iron Age, the evidence of such connections declines. Similarly, even during the later Iron Age, petrographic analyses if pottery from Jerusalem shows that there was not a lot of trade with other regions.71 It seems that many of the major trade routes skirted Jerusalem, and Jerusalem was a bit off the beaten track as far as trade goes. There is some archaeological evidence of non-local objects in Jerusalem, such as imported wood72 and South Arabian inscriptions,73 and botanical evidence from Ashkelon, that agricultural produce from Judea was exported to Philistia.74 Similarly, Sennacherib’s list of booty from Jerusalem75 clearly indicates that non-local objects reached 67

E.g., GARFINKEL 2017; GARFINKEL/GANOR/HASEL 2018; something that may be possible – MAEIR 2017. 68 The Phoenician vessel from Khirbet Qeiyafa (GILBOA 2012; GILBOA/WAIMAN-BARAK 2014) is a case in point. Whether the site is Judahite or not, the fact that his imported vessel was found at this site, which is close to Philistine Gath, while similar vessels were not found in contemporaneous Jerusalem. 69 Eg., SERGI 2013; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014; GARFINKEL et al. 2019; FINKELSTEIN 2020. 70 BEN-SHLOMO 2019:360. 71 BEN-SHLOMO 2019:361. 72 SHILOH 1984:19. 73 SHILOH 1987; but see SASS 1990. Note as well the possible mention of Judah in an inscription from southern Arabia, possibly dating to the late Iron Age. See LEMAIRE 2012. 74 WEISS/KISLEV 2004. One can ponder whether the agricultural products from Judah that were found in the late Iron Age destruction of levels at Ashkelon (WEISS/KISLEV 2004; FAUST/WEISS 2005; WEISS/KISLEV/MAHLER-SLASKY 2011) are in fact evidence of regular, ongoing trade between Ashkelon and Judah in the Iron Age IIC. The possibility exists that they are specifically related to the desperate preparations by the Ashkelonites, in anticipation of the Babylonian siege (see WEISS/KISLEV/MAHLER-SLASKY 2011:607), in which they procured supplies from all possible sources, including perhaps from regions with which they didn’t regularly conduct trade. This though can be tested only if this data from the final destruction of Ashkelon would be compared to data on agricultural imports to Ashkelon in other stages of the late Iron Age. 75 E.g., COGAN 2008:115.

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Jerusalem in the Iron IIB.76 That said, it appears that over all, after the Iron IIA, in the later phases of the Iron Age, the connections between Philistia and Jerusalem were not as extensive.77

4. Conclusion So, to summarize. The evidence for connections between Jerusalem and the “west,” or for that matter, regions beyond its immediate surroundings, is somewhat limited. During the Iron Age I and Iron Age IIA, those that can be found appear to be, for all intents and purposes, connected to, or went through, Philistia. I suggest that this reflects the character of the power relations and status of the Kingdom of Gath (as the major polity in Philistia in the late Iron I and Iron Age IIA) in comparison to the relatively lesser role of the Kingdom of Jerusalem/Judah during this time frame. It would appear that during the various phases of the Judahite Kingdom, up until the destruction of Gath by Hazael, Philistia had significant influence on this kingdom.78

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76 For a general discussion of the list of Hezekiah’s tribute, see HOLLADAY 2006, who in my opinion exaggerates the role of that the Kingdom of Judah had in international trade, particularly in light of the petrographic evidence (BEN-SHLOMO 2018; 2019) on the overall parochial nature of the kingdom. 77 Contra, e.g., FAUST/WEISS 2005. 78 That said, I believe the NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ’s (2016) extensive list of supposed cultural influences that Philistia had on Judah are exaggerated. In my opinion, many of these are hard to accept or insufficiently proven.

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BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2012), Provenience and Technological Studies of Pottery, in: A.M. MAEIR, Tell esSafi/Gath I: Report on the 1996–2005 Seasons (ÄAT 69), Wiesbaden, 383–427. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2014), Tell Jemmeh, Philistia and the Neo-Assyrian Empire During the Late Iron Age, Levant 46(1), 58–88. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2018), Judah and the Philistines During the Iron Age I and Iron Age IIA, in: I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell It in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of A. M. Maeir on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Münster, 269–282. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2019), The Iron Age Pottery of Jerusalem: A Typological and Technological Study (Ariel University Institute of Archaeology, Monograph Series 2), Ariel. BEN-SHLOMO, D./MAEIR, A.M./MOMMSEN, H. (2008), Neutron Activation and Petrographic Analysis of Selected Late Bronze and Iron Age Pottery from Tell es-Safi/Gath, Israel, Journal of Archaeological Science 35(4), 956–964. BEN-SHLOMO, D./MOMMSEN, H. (2018), Pottery Production in Jerusalem During the Iron Age: A new Compositional Profiling, Geoarchaeology 33(3), 349–363. BEN-SHLOMO, D./SHAI, I./MAEIR, A.M. (2004), Late Philistine Decorated Ware (“Ashdod Ware”): Typology, Chronology and Production Centers, BASOR 335, 1–35. BEN-SHLOMO, D. et al. (2008), Cooking Identities: Aegean-Style and Philistine Cooking Jugs and Cultural Interaction in the Southern Levant During the Iron Age, AJA 112(2), 225–246. BEN-YOSEF, E. (2019), Archaeological Science Brightens Mediterranean Dark Age, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 116(13), 5843–5845. BEN-YOSEF, E. (2019a), The Architertural Bias in Current Biblical Archaeology, VT 69(3), 361–387. BEN-YOSEF, E./SERGI, O. (2018), The Destruction of Gath by Hazael and the Arabah Copper Industry: A Reassessment, in: I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell It in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of A. M. Maeir on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Münster, 461–480. BOIVIN, B. et al. (2014), Indian Food Globalisation and Africa, African Archaeological Review 31, 547–581. CHAPMAN, S. (1972), A Catalogue of Iron Age Pottery from the Cemeteries of Khirbet Silm, Joya, Qraye and Qasmieh of South Lebanon, Berytus 21, 55–194. COGAN, M. (2008), The Raging Torrent: Historical Inscriptions from Assyria and Babylonia Relating to Ancient Israel, Jerusalem. COHEN-WEINBERGER, A./SZANTON, N./UZIEL, J. (2017), Ethnofabrics: Petrographic Analysis as a Tool for Illuminating Cultural Interactions and Trade Relations Between Judah and Philistia During the Iron II, BASOR 377, 1–20. DELEUZE, G./GUATTARI, F. (1987), A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia (translation and foreword by Brian Massumi), Minneapolis. DOTHAN, T. (1982), The Philistines and Their Material Culture, Jerusalem. DOTHAN, T. (1998), An Early Phoenician Cache from Ekron, in: J. MAGNESS/S. GITIN (eds.), Hesed Ve-Emet: Studies in Honor of Ernest S. Frerichs, Atlanta, 259–272. ELIYAHU-BEHAR, A./YAHALOM-MACK, N. (2018), Metallurgical Investigations at Tell es-Safi/Gath, in: I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell It in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of A. M. Maeir on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Münster, 811–815. ESHEL, T. et al. (2019), Lead Isotopes in Silver Reveal Earliest Phoenician Quest for Metals in the West Mediterranean, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 116(13), 607–612. FANTALKIN A./FINKELSTEIN, I. (2006), The Sheshonq I Campaign and the 8th Century BCE Earthquake: More on the Archaeology and History of the South in the Iron I–IIA, TA 32(1), 18–42. FAUST, A. (2015), The Bible, Archaeology, and the Practice of Circumcision in Israelite and Philistine Societies, JBL 134(2), 273–290. FAUST, A. (2020), Between the Highland Polity and Philistia: The United Monarchy and the Resettlement of the Shephelah in the Iron Age IIA, with a Special Focus on Tel ʿEton and Khirbet Qeiyafa, BASOR 383, 115–136.

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FAUST, A./WEISS, E. (2005), Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World: Reconstructing the Economic System of the Seventh Century B.C.E., BASOR 338, 71–92. FAUST, A./WEISS, E. (2011), Between Assyria and the Mediterranean World: The Prosperity of Judah and Philistia in the Seventh Century BCE in Context, in: T.C. WILKINSON/S. SHERRATT/J. BENNET (eds.), Interweaving Worlds: Systemic Interactions in Eurasia, 7th to 1st Millennia BC. Papers from a Conference in Memory of Professor Andrew Sherratt – What Would a Bronze Age World System Look Like? World System Approaches to Europe and Western Asia 4th to 1st Millennia BC, Oxford, 189–204. FINKELSTEIN, I. (2020), Iron Age Chronology and Biblical History Rejoinders: The Late Bronze/Iron Age Transition, Tel ʿEton and Lachish, PEQ 152(2), 82–93. FULLER, D.Q. et al. (2011), Across the Indian Ocean: The Prehistoric Movement of Plants and Animals, Antiquity 85, 544–558. GARFINKEL, Y. (2017), The Ethnic Identification of Khirbet Qeiyafa: Why It Matters?, in: J. LEV-TOV/ P. WAPNISH/A. GILBERT (eds.), The Wide Lens in Archaeology: Honoring Brian Hesse’s Contributions to Anthropological Archaeology (Archaeobiology 2), Atlanta, 149–167. GARFINKEL, Y./GANOR, S./HASEL, M.G. (2018), In the Footsteps of King David: Revelations from an Ancient Biblical City, New York. GARFINKEL, Y. et al. (2019), Lachish Fortifications and State Formation in the Biblical Kingdom of Judah in Light of Radiometric Datings, Radiocarbon 61(2), 695–712. GILBOA, A. (2012), Cypriot Barrel Juglets at Khirbet Qeiyafa and Other Sites in the Levant: Cultural Aspects and Chronological Implications, TA 39(2), 5–21. GILBOA, A./SHARON, I./BLOCH-SMITH, E. (2015), Capital of Solomon’s Fourth District?: Israelite Dor, Levant 47(1), 51–74. GILBOA, A./WAIMAN-BARAK, P. (2014), Cypriot Ceramic Imports at Khirbet Qeiyafa: Provenience, Chronology and Significance, in: Y. GARFINKEL/S. GANOR/M.G. HASEL (eds.), Khirbet Qeiyafa, Vol. 2: Excavation Report 2009–2013. Stratigraphy and Architecture (Areas B, C, D, E), Jerusalem, 391–402. GITIN, S. (1997), The Neo-Assyrian Empire and Its Western Periphery: The Levant, with a Focus on Philistine Ekron, in: S. PARPOLA/R.M. WHITING (eds.), Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, Helsinki, September 7–11, 1995, Helsinki, 77–103. GITIN, S. (2003), Neo-Assyrian and Egyptian Hegemony Over Ekron in the Seventh Century: A Response to Lawrence E. Stager, in: ErIs 27 (Hayim and Miriam Tadmor Volume), Jerusalem, 55*– 61*. GITIN, S. (2012), Temple Complex 650 at Ekron: The Impact of Multi-Cultural Influences on Philistine Cult in the Late Iron Age, in: J. KAMLAH (ed.), Temple Building and Temple Cult: Architecture and Cultic Paraphernalia of Temples in the Levant (2.–1. Mill. B.C.E.). Proceedings of a Conference on the Occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the Institute of Biblical Archaeology at the University of Tübingen (28–30 May 2010) (ADPV 41), Wiesbaden, 223–256. GITIN, S. (2015), Iron Age IIC: Philistia, in: S. GITIN (ed.), The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age Through the Hellenistic Period, Vol. 1, Jerusalem, 383–418. GITIN, S. (2017), Ekron of the Philistines: A Response to Issues Raised in the Literature, in: F.E. GREENSPAHN/G.A. RENDSBURG (eds.), Le-ma‘an Ziony: Essays in Honor of Ziony Zevit, Eugene, 60–76. GITIN, S./BRANDL, B. (2018), An Iron Age II Cache of Phoenician Jewelry from Tel Miqne-Ekron, in I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell It in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of A. M. Maeir on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Münster, 294–303. GURWIN, S. (2010), Technology and Function of Judahite Bullae from the Time of the First Temple. Unpublished Master’s Thesis, Tel Aviv University. HOLLADAY JR., J.S. (2006), Hezekiah’s Tribute, Long-Distance Trade, and the Wealth of Nations ca. 1000–600 BC: A New Perspective (“Poor Little [Agrarian] Judah” at the End of the 8th Century

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BC: Dropping the First Shoe), in: S. GITIN/J.E. WRIGHT/J.P. DESSEL (eds.), Confronting the Past: Archaeological and Historical Essays on Ancient Israel in Honor of W.G. Dever, Winona Lake, 309–331. HOOGERVORST, T./BOIVIN, N. (2018), Invisible Agents of Eastern Trade: Foregrounding Island Southeast Asian Agency in Pre-Modern Globalisation, in: N. BOIVIN/M.D. FRACHETTI (eds.), Globlisation in Prehistory: Contact, Exchange and the ‘People Without History’, Cambridge, 204–231. KARLIN, M./MAZAR, E. (2015), A Lion-Headed Rhyton from the Ophel, in E. MAZAR (ed.), The Ophel Excavations to the South of the Temple Mount, 2009–2013: Final Reports, Vol. 1, Jerusalem, 559– 562. KEEL, O. (2012), Paraphernalia of Jerusalem Sanctuaries and Their Relation to Deities Worshiped Therein During the Iron Age IIA–C, in: J. KAMLAH (ed.), Temple Building and Temple Cult: Architecture and Cultic Paraphernalia of Temples in the Levant (2.–1. Mill. B.C.E.). Proceedings of a Conference on the Occasion of the 50th Anniversary of the Institute of Biblical Archaeology at the University of Tübingen (28–30 May 2010) (ADPV 41), Wiesbaden, 317–342. KEEL, O. (2013), Corpus der Stempelsiegel-Amulette aus Palästina/Israel von den Anfängen bis zur Perserzeit. Katalog Band IV: Von Tel Gamma bis Chirbet Husche (with contributions by D. BENTOR, B. BRANDL, and R. WENNING) (OBO.SA 33), Fribourg. KEEL, O. (2015), Glyptic Finds from the Ophel Excavations 2009–2013, in E. MAZAR (ed.), The Ophel Excavations to the South of the Temple Mount, 2009–2013: Final Reports, Vol. 1, Jerusalem, 475– 530. KIDERLEN, M. et al. (2016), Tripod Cauldrons Produced at Olympia Give Evidence for Trade with Copper from Faynan (Jordan) to South West Greece, c. 950–750 BCE, Journal of Archaeological Science Reports 8, 303–313. LEHMANN, G./NIEMANN, H.M. (2014), When Did the Shephelah Become Judahite?, TA 41(1), 77–94. LEMAIRE, A. (2012), New Perspectives on the Trade Between Judah and South Arabia, in: M. LUBETSKI (ed.), New Inscriptions and Seals Relating to the Biblical World, Atlanta, 93–110. LINARES, V. et al. (2019), First Evidence for Vanillin in the Old World: Its Use as Mortuary Offering in Middle Bronze Canaan, Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 25, 77–84. MAEIR, A.M. (2012), Philistia and the Judean Shephelah After Hazael: The Power Play Between the Philistines, Judeans and Assyrians in the 8th Century BCE in Light of the Excavations at Tell esSafi/Gath, in: A. BERLEJUNG (ed.), Disaster and Relief Management – Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung (FAT 81), Tübingen, 241–262. MAEIR, A.M. (2017), Khirbet Qeiyafa in Its Regional Context: A View from Philistine Gath, in: S. SCHROER/S. MÜNGER (eds.), Khirbet Qeiyafa in the Shephelah. Papers Presented at a Colloquium of the Swiss Society for Ancient Near Eastern Studies Held at the University of Bern, September 6, 2014 (OBO 282), Fribourg/Göttingen, 61–71. MAEIR, A.M. (2020), A ‘Repertoire of Otherness’?: Identities in Early Iron Age Philistia, in: M. IAMONI (eds.), Proceedings of the 5th “Broadening Horizons” Conference (Udine 5–8 June 2017), Vol. 1: From the Prehistory of Upper Mesopotamia to the Bronze and Iron Age Societies of the Levant, Trieste, 161–170. MAEIR, A.M. (2021), Identity Creation and Resource Controlling Strategies: Thoughts on Edomite Ethnogenesis and Development, BASOR 386 https://doi.org/10.1086/714573. MAEIR, A.M. (in press), Between Philistia, Phoenicia, and Beyond: A View from Tell es-Safi/Gath, in: Festschrift for a Colleague (ÄAT), Münster. MAEIR, A.M./ESHEL, E. (2014), Four Short Alphabetic Inscriptions from Iron Age IIA Tell esSafi/Gath and Their Contribution for Understanding the Process of the Development of Literacy in Iron Age Philistia, in: E. ESHEL/Y. LEVIN (eds.), “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 (Journal of Ancient Judaism, Supplements 12), Göttingen, 69–88.

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MAEIR, A.M./FANTALKIN, A./ZUKERMAN, A. (2009), The Earliest Greek Import to the Iron Age Levant: New Evidence from Tell es-Safi/Gath, Israel, Ancient West and East 8, 57–80. MAEIR, A.M./HITCHCOCK, L.A. (2017), The Appearance, Formation and Transformation of Philistine Culture: New Perspectives and New Finds, in: P. FISCHER/T. BÜRGE (eds.), The Sea Peoples UpTo-Date: New Research on the Migration of Peoples in the 12th Century BCE (Denkschriften der Gesamtakademie 81), Vienna, 149–162. MAEIR, A.M./SHAI, I. (2005), Iron Age IIA Chalices from Tell es-Safi/Gath, in: E. CZERNY et al. (eds.), Timelines: Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak, Vol. II (OLA 149), Leuven, 357–366. MAEIR, A.M./SHAI, I. (2007), An Iron Age IIA Phoenician-Style (?) Fluted Bowl from Tell esSafi/Gath: A Ceramic Imitation of a Metal Prototype, Journal of the Serbian Archaeological Society 23, 219–226. MAEIR, A.M./SHAI, I. (2015), The Origins of the “Late Philistine Decorated Ware”: A Note, TA 42(1), 59–66. MAEIR, A.M./WELCH, E.L./ENIUKHINA, M. (2020), A Note on Olive Oil Production in Iron Age Philistia: Pressing the Consensus, PEQ 152(4) (Online) https://doi.org/10.1080/00310328.2020.1852795. MAEIR, A.M. et al. (2015), An Ivory Bowl from Early Iron Age Tell es-Safi/Gath (Israel) – Manufacture, Meaning and Memory, World Archaeology 47(3), 414–438. MAEIR, A.M. et al. (2019), Technological Insights on Philistine Culture: Perspectives from Tell esSafi/Gath, Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies 7(1), 76–118. MASTER, D.M. (2009), The Renewal of Trade at Iron Age I Ashkelon, in: ErIs 28 (Ephraim Stern Volume), Jerusalem, 111*–122*. MASTER, D.M. (2014), Economy and Exchange in the Iron Age Kingdoms of the Southern Levant, BASOR 372, 81–97. MASTER, D.M. (2018), Ally of Ashkelon: Phoenician Influence in a Philistine Port, in: ErIs 33 (Lawrence E. Stager Volume), Jerusalem, 133*–141*. MASTER, D.M./MOUNTJOY, P.A./MOMMSEN, H. (2015), Imported Cypriot Pottery in Twelfth-Century B.C. Ashkelon, BASOR 373, 235–243. MAZAR, E./KARLIN, M. (2015), A Fragment of a Lion-Headed Rhyton, in E. MAZAR (ed.), The Summit of the City of David: Excavations 2005–2008. Final Reports, Vol. 1: Area G, Jerusalem, 539–540. MÜNGER, S. (2018), Seals and Sealings at Tell es-Safi/Gath, NEA 81(1), 72–76. MURRAY, S.C. (2017), The Collapse of the Mycenaean Economy: Imports, Trade, and Institutions 1300–700 BCE, New York. NA’AMAN, N. (2012), Ḫirbet Ed-Dawwāra – a Philistine Stronghold on the Benjamin Desert Fringe, ZDPV 128(1), 10–14. NA’AMAN, N. (2016), Tel Dor and Iron IIA Chronology, BASOR 376, 1–5. NAM, R.S. (2012), Portrayals of Economic Exchange in the Book of Kings (Biblical Interpretation Series 112), Leiden. NAMDAR, D./COHEN-WEINBERGER, A./ZUCKERMAN, S. (2018), Towards a New Understanding of MB IIB Cult Practices: Analyses of Seven-Cupped Bowls from the Shrine of Nahariya, in: I. SHAI et al. (eds.), Tell It in Gath: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Israel. Essays in Honor of Aren M. Maeir on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday (ÄAT 90), Münster, 723–746. NAMDAR, D./NEUMANN, R./ WEINER, S. (2010), Residue Analysis of Chalices from the Repository Pit, in: R. KLETTER/I. ZIFFER/W. ZWICKEL (eds.), Yavneh I: The Excavation of the ‘Temple Hill’ Repository Pit and the Cult Stands (OBO.SA 30), Fribourg/Göttingen. NAMDAR, D. et al. (2013), Cinnamaldehyde in Early Iron Age Phoenician Flasks Raises the Possibility of Levantine Trade with South East Asia, Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 12(3), 1– 19. NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ, L. (2016), Goliath’s Legacy: Philistines and Hebrews in Biblical Times (Philippika 83), Wiesbaden.

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OREN, E.D. (2000), The Sea Peoples and Their World: A Reassessment (University Museum Monograph 108), Philadelphia. REICH, R. et al. (2007), Recent Discoveries in the City of David, Jerusalem, IEJ 57(3), 153–169. ROUTLEDGE, B./MCGEOUGH, K. (2009), Just What Collapsed?: A Network Perspective on ‘Palatial’ and ‘Private’ Trade at Ugarit, in: C.B. BACHHUBER/R.G. ROBERTS (eds.), Forces of Transformation: The End of the Bronze Age in the Mediterranean. Proceedings of an International Symposium Held at St. John’s College, University of Oxford, 25–26th March 2006 (BANEA.MS 1), Oxford, 22–29. SANDARS, N.K. (1985), The Sea Peoples: Warriors of the Ancient Mediterranean. Revised Edition (Ancient Peoples and Places), London. SASS, B. (1990), Arabs and Greeks in Late First Temple Jerusalem, PEQ 122(1), 59–61. SERGI, O. (2013), Judah’s Expansion in Historical Context, TA 40(2), 226–246. SHAI, I./MAEIR, A.M. (2012), The Iron Age IIA Pottery Assemblage from Stratum A3, in: A.M. MAEIR (ed.), Tell es-Safi/Gath I: Report on the 1996–2005 Seasons (ÄAT 69), Wiesbaden, 313–363. SHERRATT, S. (2016), From “Institutional” to “Private”: Traders, Routes and Commerce from the Late Bronze Age to the Iron Age, in: J.C. MORENO GARCIA (ed.), Dynamics of Production in the Ancient Near East: 1300–500 BC, Oxford, 289–302. SHILOH, Y. (1984), Excavations at the City of David I: 1978–1982. Interim Report of the First Five Seasons (Qedem 19), Jerusalem. SHILOH, Y. (1987), South Arabian Inscriptions from the City of David, Jerusalem, PEQ 119(1), 9–18. SOMAGLINO, C./TALLET, P. (2011), Une mystérieuse route sud-orientale sous le règne de Ramsès III, BIFAO 111, 361–369. SOMAGLINO, C./TALLET, P. (2013), A Road to the Arabian Peninsula in the Reign of Ramesses III, in: F. FÖRSTER/H. RIEMER (eds.), Desert Road Archaeology in Ancient Egypt and Beyond (Africa Praehistorica 27), Cologne, 518–511. STERN, E. (2015), Iron Age I–II Phoenician Pottery, in: S. GITIN (ed.), The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age Through the Hellenistic Period, Vol. 2, Jerusalem, 435–482. STOCKHAMMER, P. (2017), How Aegean is Philistine Pottery?: The Use of Aegean-Type Pottery in the Early 12th Century BCE Southern Levant, in: P. FISCHER/T. BÜRGE (eds.), The Sea Peoples UpTo-Date: New Research on the Migration of Peoples in the 12th Century BCE (Denkschriften der Gesamtakademie 81), Vienna, 379–387. SZANTON, N. (2017), Ninth Century BCE Pottery from Tell es-Safi/Gath (Stratum A3), 2006–2012 Seasons: Expanded Typology and Spatial Distribution. Unpublished Master’s Thesis, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat-Gan (Hebrew with English summary). TEBES, J.M. (2014), Socio-Economic Fluctuations and Chiefdom Formation in Edom, the Negev and the Hejaz During the First Millennium BCE, in: J.M. TEBES (ed.), Unearthing the Wilderness: Studies on the History and Archaeology of the Negev and Edom in the Iron Age (ANES.Sup 45), Leuven, 1–30. UZIEL, J./SZANTON, N./COHEN-WEINBERGER, A. (2015), From Sea to Sea: Cultural Influences and Trade Connections Between Judah and Philistia in the Iron Age II, in Light of Petrographic Study of Late Philistine Decorated Ware from the City of David, Innovations in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and Its Environs 9, 74–87. WAIMAN-BARAK, P./GILBOA, A./GOREN, Y. (2014), A Stratified Sequence of Early Iron Age Egyptian Ceramics at Tel Dor, Israel, Ägypten und Levante 24, 317–341. WALDBAUM, J.C. (2002), Seventh Century B.C. Greek Pottery from Ashkelon, Israel: An Entrepôt in the Southern Levant, in: M. FAUDOT/A. FRAYESSE/É. GENY (eds.), Pont-Euxin et Commerce: La Genènse de la “Route de la Soie”. Actes Du IXe Symposium de Vani, Colchide, 1999, Paris, 57– 75. WALDBAUM, J.C. (2011), Greek Pottery, in: L.E. STAGER/D.M. MASTER/J.D. SCHLOEN (eds.), Ashkelon 3: The Seventh Century B.C. (Final Reports of the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon 3), Winona Lake, 127–338.

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WALDBAUM, J.C. (2015), Greek Imports, in: S. GITIN (eds.), The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age Through the Hellenistic Period, Vol. 2, Jerusalem, 509–531. WALTON, J.T. (2011), Egyptian Pottery, in: L.E. STAGER/D.M. MASTER/J.D. SCHLOEN (eds.), Ashkelon 3: The Seventh Century B.C. (Final Reports of the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon 3), Winona Lake, 123–125. WALTON, J.T. (2018), Assyrian Interests in the West: Philistia and Judah, in: ErIs 33 (Lawrence E. Stager Volume), 175*–182*. WEISS, E./KISLEV, M.E. (2004), Plant Remains as Indicators for Economic Activities: A Case Study from Iron Age Ashkelon, Journal of Archaeological Science 31(1), 1–13. WEISS, E./KISLEV, M.E./MAHLER-SLASKY, Y. (2011), Plant Remains, in: L.E. STAGER/D.M. MASTER/ J.D. SCHLOEN (eds.), Ashkelon 3: The Seventh Century B.C. (Final Reports of the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon 3), Winona Lake, 591–614. WIMMER, S.J./GÖRG, M. (2020), Seals and Amulets from Cave T1, in: A.M. MAEIR/J. UZIEL (eds.), Tell es-Safi/Gath II: Excavations and Studies (ÄAT 105), Münster, 269–276. WOOD, J.R./BELL, C./MONTERO-RUIZ, I. (2020), The Origin of Tel Dor Hacksilver and the Westward Expansion of the Phoenicians in the Early Iron Age: The Cypriot Connection, Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies 8(1), 1–21. WOOD, J.R./MONTERO-RUIZ, I./MATINÓN-TORRES, M. (2019), From Iberia to the Southern Levant: The Movement of Silver Across the Mediterranean in the Early Iron Age, Journal of World Prehistory 32(1), 1–31. WORKMAN, V. et al. (2020), An Iron IIA Iron and Bronze Workshop in the Lower City of Tell esSafi/Gath, TA 47(2), 208–236. YOUNGER, K.L. (2014), The Assyrian Impact on the Southern Levant in Light of Recent Study, IEJ 65(2), 179–204. ZUKERMAN, A. (2012), Iron Age I and Early Iron Age IIA Pottery, in: A.M. MAEIR (ed.), Tell esSafi/Gath I: Report on the 1996–2005 Seasons (ÄAT 69), Wiesbaden, 265–311.

Jerusalem, Judah, and Philistia Links during the Iron Age David Ben-Shlomo 1. Introduction This paper will examine some archaeological evidence for links between Jerusalem, Judah and Philistia during the Iron Age. The biblical Books of Judges and Samuel are rich with narratives describing the conflicts between the Philistines and the tribes of Israel and, later, Kings Saul and David. In these narratives the Philistines are described from the Judahite point of view as the “ultimate other.” Some scholars have even suggested that the Philistines actually controlled the entire region of Palestine during parts of the early Iron Age. Several biblical passages, however, indicate more “positive” aspects in the relationship between the Israelites and the Philistines, such as David taking refuge from Saul at Philistine Gath (1 Sam 27), and his Karti and Palti units (2 Sam 20:7). As will be shown, certain archaeological evidence can also support such a “positive” relationship. Here, various groups of Iron Age pottery and clay objects showing Philistine affiliations, from Jerusalem and other Judahite or early Israelite sites, will be examined. These seem to be especially important since the material culture of Jerusalem, in particular pottery, seems to be quite detached from other regions in the Levant during the Iron Age.1 The components that are discussed include Philistine Bichrome pottery during the Iron Age I, and late Philistine and other pottery as well as figurines during the Iron Age II.

2. Philistine Bichrome Pottery Evidence for connections between Judah and Philistia is represented by Philistine-style Bichrome pottery found in Judah or the “Israelite territory” (Samaria) of the Iron Age I (ca. 1200–1000 BCE). As will be shown this pottery is either imported from Philistia or made locally in Judah.

1

See, e.g., BEN-SHLOMO 2019:353–361.

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Philistine Bichrome pottery is attested at Tell en-Nasbeh (fig. 1),2 Bethel3 and at Shiloh,4 as well as in southern Judah at Tel Masos (Strata III and II) and Beersheba.5 In addition, some Philistine Bichrome pottery was found at the Shephelah border sites of Tel ʿEton, Tel Beth-Shemesh and Tell Beit Mirsim.6 If these sherds (which have not been analyzed) represent vessels made in one of the Philistine cities, their presence at sites in Judah could indicate sporadic trade connections. If they represent locally-made vessels, they could either indicate Philistine potters working in the region,7 or some degree of influence of the Philistine material culture on that of Judah (or even Philistine control of the region;8 see further below). No pottery made in Judah or Jerusalem has thus far been found in Iron I Philistia proper.

Fig. 1: Philistine Bichrome pottery from Nasbeh (after WAMPLER 1947; BEN-SHLOMO 2018:fig. 1).

2.1 Tell en-Nasbeh Philistine Pottery While small quantities of Philistine Bichrome pottery were found at Shiloh and Bethel in Samaria, larger quantities, over 60 sherds, were found at Tell en-Nasbeh, a site about 10 km north of Jerusalem (fig. 1).9 Neutron Activation Analysis (NAA) has shown that a group of sherds decorated in the Philistine Bichrome style found at Tell en-Nasbeh north of Jerusalem were made locally (fig. 1).10 Gunneweg et al. analyzed 16 Philistine sherds from Nasbeh with the results published in 1994. Their results indicate that five sherds were of Moẓa clay, and therefore 2

WAMPLER 1947:pl. 80 and pl. 86–87; GUNNEWEG et al. 1994. KELSO 1968:pl. 38:b. 4 DOTHAN 1982:54. 5 DOTHAN 1982:86–87. 6 EDELSTEIN/AURANT 1992; FAUST 2015. 7 GUNNEWEG et al. 1994:236. 8 GRANT 1934:47; KNAUF 2001. 9 MCCOWN 1947:180; WAMPLER 1947:pl. 80 and pl. 86–87. 10 GUNNEWEG et al. 1994. 3

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manufactured locally or in the central hills region; four sherds seem to match an Ashdod area profile – thus imported from Philistia; the other seven were not clearly grouped or provenanced.11 Thus, the study demonstrates that Philistine Bichrome pottery was both exported from Philistia to Judah and produced outside of Philistia in Judah, as well as indicating the existence of several additional production centers not yet been identified (probably including Gaza).

Fig. 2: Petrographic results of pottery from Nasbeh according to clay types (© David Ben-Shlomo).

2.2 New Petrographic Analysis of Philistine Bichrome Pottery from Tell en-Nasbeh In light of this interesting results indicating local production in Judah of Philistine-style ware additional Philistine Bichrome sherds from Nasbeh were analyzed during 2018– 2019 by petrography.12 These included mostly sherds of bell-shaped kraters decorated in red and black motifs over white chalky slip. The new preliminary results of a petrographic study of 21 Philistine Bichrome vessels from Tell en-Nasbeh indicate a variability of sources (fig. 2 and fig. 3). Various sources of production for the Philistine pottery were identified: 1.

Moẓa clay with dolomite sand (five examples, “Group 2”, fig. 3:1), provenanced to the Central Hills and/or Judah. Many storage vessels and table ware forms from Nasbeh are made of this clay (fig. 2). 11

GUNNEWEG et al. 1994:235. The Philistine Bichrome pottery is part of a group of 200 pottery vessels, mostly from the Iron Age, were sampled and analyzed by petrography by the author (see fig. 2). A detailed report on the results will be published elsewhere. 12

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This fabric is characterized by a fine calcareous matrix, rich with rhombic dolomite sand (usually 80–400 m, fig. 3:1, “DL”), and hardly anything else in the coarse fraction (one of the samples is richer in microfossils). Dolomite sand comprises 30–45% of the slide area and is mostly worn on edges. The fabric is related to the Moẓa clay or Moẓa marl formations13 and can also described as “Moẓa clay with Aminadav dolomite sand.”14 Terra rossa clay (three examples, “Group 1”, fig. 3:2), common in the Central Hills and Shephelah. At Tell en-Nasbeh all this is the major cooking ware fabric (fig. 2). This fabric has a reddish-brown matrix. The coarse fraction is usually single-spaced and contains mainly well sorted quartz silt (fig. 3:2, “QZ”), limestone fragments (fig. 3:2, “LS”), chalk, rounded quartz sand, chert and clay pellets. This fabric could fit terra rossa related clays, a soil developing from dust on hard limestone rocks (nari).15 Similar clay though containing also dolomite silt is the most common fabric in Iron Age II Jerusalem.16 This is probably the most common clay used for Iron Age pottery at Tell en-Nasbeh, mostly for cooking pots (see fig. 2). Loess clay (two examples, “Group 5”, fig. 3:3), typical of the southern coastal plain and northern Negev. This fabric represents imports from Philistia. This fabric is characterized by a reddish calcareous matrix, bimodal quartz inclusions (silty angular fragments and sand-sized rounded fragments, about 25–30% of slide area, fig. 3:3, “QZ”) as well as calcareous inclusions (fig. 3:3, “LS”), and pellets and feldspar in small quantities. The clay is possibly derived from loess type soil originating in the western Shephelah.17 Hamra or alluvial type clay (eight examples “Group 7”, fig. 3:4), probably representing the central coastal plain and Sharon coast. This fabric is characterized by a dark to reddish-brown matrix (fig. 3:4). Main non-plastics are quartz (usually 30% of slide area, fig. 3:4, “QZ”), mostly silt sized with some rounded sand, and calcareous inclusions (10–15% of slide area). The calcareous inclusions are usually rounded chalk and microfossils fragments, sand sized up to 0.6 mm; several feldspar grains appear as well. This fabric may represent a “Hamra” or alluvial coastal clay originating from central coast of Israel (Tel Aviv to the Sharon coast), since it combines quartz sand and feldspar originating from the Nile delta and kurkar-derived calcareous sand.18 Notably while this is the most

2.

3.

4.

13

E.g., ARKIN/BRAUN 1965. COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017:9–10, Group A, fig. 10; BEN-SHLOMO/MOMMSEN2018:356, Group 2b; also, GOREN/HALPERIN 2004:2556–2557; LCP Petrofabric No. 36: levantineceramics.org/petrofabrics/moza-clay-aminadav-sand-sized-dolomite-crystals), accessed on 14 January 2020. 15 E.g., SINGER 2007:26; UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015:81–82. 16 BEN-SHLOMO/MOMMSEN 2018:353. 17 E.g., MASTER 2003:55, GOREN/FINKELSTEIN/NA’AMAN 2004:9.112; LCP Petrofabric No. 33: levantineceramics.org/petrofabrics/shephelah-alluvial-clay-calcareous-sand-quartz-silt, accessed on 14 January 2020. 18 See, e.g., BEN-SHLOMO 2019:222, Group 18; LCP Petrofabric No. 39: levantineceramics.org/petrofabrics/central-coastal-plain-calcareous-clay-quartz-and-tuff, accessed on 14 January 2020. 14

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common fabric for the Philistine Bichrome pottery at Tell en-Nasbeh it hardly appears in any other wares or forms sampled from the site (see fig. 2). Other sources or petrographic groups (three examples). These seem to represent mixed clays (Group 4), possibly representing a mixture of Moẓa and terra rossa clays, since it contains both dolomite sand and silty and sand quartz in large quantities. It is not clear whether they represent different clay sources or natural or anthropogenic mixtures. This clay could be also local to the central hills. A possibly similar group was defined in the Iron pottery of Jerusalem.19

5.

Fig. 3: Photos of thin sections of Nasbeh Bichrome pottery (all photos are taken in crossed polarized light; horizontal dimension is ca 2.5 mm) (© David Ben-Shlomo).

Therefore, again, the new compositional results indicate that while some Philistine Bichrome pottery was imported to Nasbeh from Philistia, most of it was either locally produced or imported from outside Philistia. Interestingly, the sherds from Philistia are the smallest group, less than 10%, while the largest group probably comes from the central coast. Note that some Philistine Bichrome pottery sherds from Beth-Shemesh were provenanced to the same region.20 In a recent study, Martin21 analyzed by petrography Philistine Bichrome pottery from Iron Age I sites in northern Israel. A total of 155 vessels were sampled or discussed from Megiddo, Tel Qiri, Dor, Tel Rehov and other sites.22 About two thirds were found 19

BEN-SHLOMO 2019:205–207, Group 5. GOREN 2016:246. 21 MARTIN 2017. 22 MARTIN 2017:table 1. 20

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to be imported from mostly coastal sites in Philistia (many of the vessels from Megiddo23). However, another sizable group was more locally produced in the Jezreel Valley and other northern inland regions.24 Other Philistine vessels were sourced to the Carmel and central coastal plain25 and to the Central Hills.26 Generally, these results do not indicate a significant “northern Sea Peoples” entity on the northern coast producing Bichrome pottery, since the majority was imported from Philistia. Yet, generally, the results are rather similar to those from the study of Philistine pottery in the central hills, though, the percentage of imports from Philistia in the south is lower (see above).

3. Late Philistine Decorated Ware Several pottery vessels found in Judah were made in Philistia (based on the archaeometric data), and, conversely, some Iron II pottery found in Philistia that was made in Judah. Late Philistine Decorated Ware (LPDW, also designated “Ashdod Ware”, fig. 4) is a typical Iron IIA–B decorated ware in Philistia.27 Characteristic forms are kraters, jars, and jugs, and the vessels are red-slipped and vertically burnished and decorated with white and black geometric patterns. LPDW pottery is also attested in smaller quantities outside Philistia, including in Judah and especially Jerusalem (fig. 4).28 Petrographic analysis on a group of eleven LPDW sherds from Iron IIA levels in the City of David, mostly body sherds of jugs,29 showed that three were made of Moẓa clay with dolomite sand, a clay typical of the Judean hills and the area west of Jerusalem.30 The other eight were probably made in the Shephelah or coastal plains,31 that is, in Philistia. In addition, petrographic analysis of a few non-LPDW vessels, such as red-slipped and burnished bowls and cooking pots, shows that they were also made in the region of Philistia.32 These results indicate both trade and cultural connections between Philistia and Jerusalem in the Iron Age IIA, with LPDW and other late Philistine pottery both imported from Philistia to Jerusalem and produced locally in Judah.

23

MARTIN 2017:Group PG1 and PG2. MARTIN 2017:Group PG 8 and PG9. 25 MARTIN 2017:fig. 3, Group PG6 and PG7. 26 MARTIN 2017:table 4, Group PG3. 27 BEN-SHLOMO/SHAI/MAEIR 2004. 28 BEN-SHLOMO 2018. 29 UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015:fig. 5; COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017. 30 UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015:81, Group A. 31 UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015:82; COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017: Group B and C. 32 UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015:83; COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017:9–11. 24

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29

Fig. 4: Late Philistine ware from Jerusalem (after BEN-SHLOMO 2018: fig. 1).

Additional compositional study on pottery production in Iron Age Jerusalem analyzed by the author includes up to 29 LPDW or possibly LPDW sherds, again indicating the links between the regions during the Iron Age II (fig. 4).33 These results include a mix of imported and locally-made LPDW vessels, although the sample has slightly more locally-produced LPDW (at least 46%). In addition, nine other pottery vessels from the Ophel and one from the City of David were also made from clays found in the southern coastal plain or western Shephelah (among them three bowls, two kraters, and three storage jars with thumb impressions on the handle). Khirbet Qeiyafa located in the Shephelah, is probably part of early Judah.34 Several early Iron IIA LPDW vessels were published from the site, including complete examples of LPDW beer jugs, jugs, and pyxides.35 These were defined as “Middle” Philistine Decorated Ware on the basis of their early stratigraphic context and early Philistine vessel form.36 Petrographic analysis of six of these vessels indicates that five were made of clay derived from loess from the southern Shephelah or coastal plains and one from the central Shephelah, perhaps local to Qeiyafa.37 LPDW-style vessels are also attested at sites in southern Judah.38 Two red-slipped and burnished vessels with black decoration – a juglet and a pyxis – originate from Tel Masos.39 Several LPDW vessels were found in Stratum II at Beer Sheba, dated to

33

BEN-SHLOMO 2019:237, fig. 7.45. It should be noted that some scholars suggest that the site was not affiliated with the early Judahite kingdom (e.g., FINKELSTEN/FANTALKIN 2012). 35 KANG/GARFINKEL 2009:fig. 7.2–5; KANG 2013. 36 KANG/GARFINKEL 2009:157–158, fig. 7.6; KANG 2013. 37 BEN-SHLOMO 2009. 38 BEN-SHLOMO 2006:86. 39 FRITZ/KEMPINSKI 1983:pl. 143:4–5. 34

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the end of the 8th century BCE.40 At Arad, two vessels that may typologically belong to LPDW were found in Stratum XI: a jug with a rounded body, the upper part of which is missing, and an amphoriskos.41

4. Judean Pottery in Philistia Imported pottery from Judah is rare in Philistia in the Iron I and IIA, represented by only a few examples from Tell es-Safi/Gath and Tel Miqne/Ekron.42 These imports include a jar with a painted inscription found at Tell es-Safi/Gath (reading ʾabtm, maybe a Judahite name) found in the Stratum D3 temple’s cella and dated to the Iron IIA.43 It is made of Moẓa clay type with dolomite sand. The number of vessels made in the Judean hills and exported to Philistia increases somewhat in the Iron IIB, particularly at Gath (with nine of 113 examples made of Moẓa clay), and at other Shephelah sites, such as Socoh, with seven of 79 examples made of Moẓa clay.44 This accords with the information from biblical and other textual sources on Judah’s expansion in this period, including taking control of the city of Gath in the 8th century BCE.45 Note also that cooking jugs, a form possibly influenced from earlier Philistine cooking jugs, appear during the Iron Age IIB in Judah.46

5. Figurines and Terracottas Several early Iron Age figurines may also indicate connections between Judah and Philistia (fig. 5). Again, the evidence probably comprises both the transmission of style and imported objects.47 An example of an Ashdoda-style figurine was found in a Stratum 15 fill at the City of David (fig. 5:1).48 The figurine has a flat “polos”-type head, pellet eyes, a protruding nose and a short neck. The upper part of the flat shoulders is also preserved. Ashdoda figurines are very rare outside the main Philistine cities. In addition, several anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figurine fragments decorated in the typical red-and-black Bichrome style of the early Philistine examples have been found.49

40

SINGER-AVITZ 1999:10–12. SINGER-AVITZ 2002:fig. 7:4.6. 42 KILLEBREW 1998:216; BEN-SHLOMO 2006:178. 43 Sample Safi 501, BEN-SHLOMO unpublished report; DAGAN/ENUIKHINA/MAEIR 2018:33. 44 BEN-SHLOMO 2016:259–260. 45 See also SERGEI 2013, suggesting that Judah and Jerusalem expanded from the 8th century BCE onward at the expense of the kingdom of Gath. 46 See BEN-SHLOMO et al. 2008. 47 BEN-SHLOMO 2018. 48 GILBERT-PERETZ 1996:39, Type E1, fig. 18:11 and pl. 9:8–9; BEN-SHLOMO/PRESS 2009:16. 49 See, e.g., GILBERT-PERETZ 1996:fig. 13:9–10, 15:11 (a zoomorphic head spout) and 17:7.9. 41

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Fig. 5: Various finds illustrating Jerusalem/Judah-Philistia links (after BEN-SHLOMO 2018:fig. 2).

An almost complete ceramic model of a bed or seat was found in a Stratum 8 accumulation at the City of David, Area C dated to the Iron Age IIA (fig. 5:2).50 The model is white-slipped and decorated with red stripes, bands, and dots on the upper part of the bed and back, similar to Philistine Bichrome decoration, and its form may also reflect a debased Ashdoda-type figurine.51 Several other clay bed models from the City of

50 51

BEN-SHLOMO 2018:fig. 2:2. BEN-SHLOMO/PRESS 2009:61, fig. 9.

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David have previously been published,52 while several others were found at Tell enNasbeh. This form is often considered a Canaanite terracotta type (also designated an offering table), although its origins as a cultic object are unclear. The Iron Age IIA temple at the site of Moẓa yielded several cultic items and figurines including two heads of anthropomorphic figurines (fig. 5:3.4).53 The type of head depiction of the anthropomorphic figurines is usually used for female figurines in Iron I Philistia, although examples from Ashdod and Ashkelon may depict males.54 The figurines from the Moẓa temple suggest that the Philistine style was used for both female and male figurines, perhaps reflecting both Philistine influence and a different Judean cultic practice. The only figurine found at Khirbet Qeiyafa, a head, is somewhat similar, possibly also resembling this “Philistine” style.55 Other objects found in Jerusalem and Judah during the late Iron I and Iron Age IIA may also indicate connections with Philistia, as lion head cups,56 Sekhmet and other figurines made from clay sourced to the coastal plains (fig. 5:5.6).57 Lion head cups are sometimes considered a Philistine type during the Iron Age.58 A fragment of a lion head cup was also found at Khirbet Dawara in Iron IIA level.59 Later during the Iron IIB, “Judean pillar figurines” are attested to in small numbers in Philistia, primarily in the Iron IIB (fig. 5:7.8).60 Horse and horse-and-rider figurines in the Judean tradition have been found in late Iron Age contexts in Philistia, for example in small numbers at Ekron and Ashdod61 and larger numbers at Ashkelon62 and Tell Jemmeh.63 The question remains as to whether the late Iron Age Judean pillar figurines found in Philistia represent stylistic and/or cultic influences or sporadic contact, as reflected both in these domestic cult items and the more common Canaanite-tradition nude, female plaque figurines found in Iron Age II Philistia.

6. Discussion The issue of special contacts between Judah and Philistia during the Iron Age has been raised several times in the past.64 As noted, the Books of Judges and Samuel are rich 52 GILBERT-PERETZ 1996:fig. 18:1–5. Another fragment was published from the Temple Mount sifting project (GREENER/BARKAY/DVIRA 2017:141, pl. 9:2). 53 KISILEVITZ 2015:156–157, fig. 5A–5B; KISILEVITZ 2016. 54 BEN-SHLOMO/PRESS 2009:fig. 10:1 and 15:2, respectively. 55 GARFINKEL 2017:159–160, fig. 9. 56 MAZAR/KARLIN 2015. 57 See BEN-SHLOMO 2018:273. 58 See MEIBERG 2013; BEN-SHLOMO 2018. 59 FINKELSTEIN 1990. 60 See BEN-SHLOMO 2010:125. 61 KLETTER 2001:185–188; BEN-SHLOMO 2010:124–125. 62 PRESS 2012:183–186. 63 BEN-SHLOMO/GARDINER/VAN BEEK 2014:816–819. 64 E.g., MAEIR 2004; NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ 2013; UZIEL/SZANTON/COHEN-WEINBERGER 2015; COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017; BEN-SHLOMO 2017; 2018; 2019.

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with stories describing the conflicts between the Philistines and the Israelites and some scholars have suggested that the Philistines actually controlled the entire region of Palestine during parts of the early Iron Age.65 Yet, several biblical passages indicate more “positive” aspects in the relationship between the Israelites and the Philistines, such as David taking refuge from Saul at Philistine Gath (1 Sam 27), and his Karti and Palti (Cherethite and Pelethite) “special units” (2 Sam 20:7), perhaps of Aegean or Philistine origin. Singer suggested that David used these Philistine mercenaries as body guards.66 In the story of David taking refuge from Saul at Philistine Gath (1 Sam 27–29) David is hosted by King Achish, and then is even given a territory at Ziklag and becomes Achish’s servant. This passage may reflect treaties and commerce David had with the Philistines. Later, David may also be involved in some way with the Philistines in the crucial Philistine battle against Saul (1 Sam 29). As shown above, there is certain archaeological evidence for links between Jerusalem, Judah and Philistia, which includes pottery and figurines going in both directions between the regions. Philistia also probably imported cereals from Judah during the late Iron Age.67 Generally, a “foreign” material culture element can be represented either by an imported object per se or an idea, that is, a locally-produced foreign element or style. The latter might imply stronger connections than the former, especially if relatively small quantities are involved. The presence of the occasional Philistine-style or -manufactured figurines in Jerusalem may indicate people from Philistia were living in or passing through the city. As a personal item, figurines are more likely to have been brought in by individuals than, for example, pottery vessels. The Philistine-style figurines in the Moẓa temple, however, could either reflect the actual influence of Philistine cult (or style) or represent items brought by “pilgrims” or given to them. Notably, these figurines are the only Philistine- or Aegean-style figurines thus far found in an Iron Age temple, including those in Philistia.68 The question is what these items signify or reflect: trade, movement of people, exchange of ideas and cultural influence, or occupation. The more likely phenomena are cultural influences related to trade and other contacts. Yet, the movement of groups of people between the regions of Judah and Philistia cannot be excluded as well. Such, possibly small groups, may be responsible for the occurrence of the locally produced Philistine Bichrome pottery at Tell en-Nasbeh, or in sites in northern Israel.69 It has been suggested, on the basis of the biblical story on the one hand and linguistic reasoning on the other, that Philistine control expanded to include Judah in the Iron I and possibly later, and thus strongly influenced Judean culture.70 While it may seem that the religious practice in Judah, reflected both in the biblical narrative and in archaeological finds (albeit meager), may indicate some Aegean or Philistine influence, the 65

E.g., KNAUF 2001. SINGER 1990:391–392. 67 See FAUST/WEISS 2005. 68 BEN-SHLOMO 2010:187–189. 69 See above MARTIN 2017. 70 See above and NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ 2013. 66

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archaeological evidence showing that the “pig taboo” was valid in Iron Age Judah suggests that Philistine influence did not go that far.71 The important role of the Philistines in the biblical narrative (and language), especially their portrayal as a powerful enemy (and possible ruler) of the Israelites, cannot be ignored. However, it has been suggested that this description instead reflects later realities of the 8th and early 7th centuries BCE.72 The links between the Philistines and the Canaanites in the biblical text (referred to almost interchangeably) is also significant.73 Moreover, the view of the Philistines as an elite and military group, in line with various descriptions of the Sea Peoples in Egyptians texts and biblical passages, may not be accurate. Based on archaeological evidence from Philistia, several studies have shown that it is more likely that the Philistines were a community of immigrants with fewer military- and elite-related affinities.74 Such a community essentially could not have overthrown or changed the existent Canaanite administration or culture in the southern coastal plain region during the early Iron Age.75 Yet, the Philistines could potentially have gained significant political power only from the Iron IIA onwards. If this version of the Philistines as an immigrant society is adopted, it is hardly likely that this group managed to control the entire area of Palestine in the early Iron Age. Alternatively, the evidence of the early connections and influences between the Judean and Philistine culture may indicate links between two ethnic groups that were both in an early “pre-state” stage in terms of their political institutions. This stage ended when these groups in Philistia and Judah achieved “national-ethnic” independence, creating the Iron IIA–B states also documented in extra-biblical texts. Their relationship, and possibly cooperation, may have developed also in the context of their opposition to the existing Canaanite elites and administration that continued the Late Bronze Age traditions in the region. Such cooperation and cultural influences do not necessarily contradict the occurrence of territorial and other clashes in this period or later, as described in the biblical narratives may indeed combine and the earlier Canaanite with the later Philistine powers.

List of Figures Fig. 1: Philistine Bichrome pottery from Nasbeh (after WAMPLER 1947, BEN-SHLOMO 2018:fig. 1). Fig. 2: Petrographic results of pottery from Nasbeh according to clay types (© David Ben-Shlomo). Fig. 3: Photos of thin sections of Nasbeh Bichrome pottery (all photos are taken in crossed polarized light; horizontal dimension is ca 2.5 mm) (© David Ben-Shlomo). Fig. 4: Late Philistine ware from Jerusalem (after BEN-SHLOMO 2018:fig. 1). Fig. 5: Various finds illustrating Jerusalem/Judah-Philistia links (after BEN-SHLOMO 2018:fig. 2).

71

SAPIR-HEN et al. 2013. E.g., FINKELSTEIN 2002. 73 See also NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ 2013:89. 74 YASUR-LANDAU 2010; BEN-SHLOMO 2010. 75 See, for example, SHAI 2009; BEN-SHLOMO 2010:187–182. 72

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GARFINKEL, Y. (2017), The Ethnic Identification of Khirbet Qeiyafa: Why it Matters, in: J. LEVTOV/P. WAPNISH/A. GILBERT (eds.), The Wide Lens in Archaeology Honoring Brian Hesse’s Contributions to Anthropological Archaeology, Atlanta, 149–167. GILBERT-PERETZ, D. (1996), Ceramic Figurines, in: D. ARIEL/A. DE GROOT (eds.), Excavations in the City of David IV (Qedem 35), Jerusalem, 29–86. GOREN, Y. (2016), Excursus A: Petrographic Analysis of Selected “Philistine Ware” Vessels, in: S. BUNIMOVITZ/Z. LEDERMAN, Tel Beth-Shemesh: A Border Community in Judah. Renewed Excavations 1990–2000: The Iron Age (SMNIA 34), Winona Lake, 246. GOREN, Y./FINKELSTEIN, I./NA’AMAN, N. (2004), Inscribed in Clay: Provenance Study of the Amarna Tablets and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts (SMNIA 23), Tel Aviv. GOREN, Y./HALPERIN, N. (2004), Selected Petrographic Analyses, in: D. USSISHKIN (ed.), The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994), Vol. 5 (SMNIA 22), Tel Aviv, 2553– 2586. GRANT, E. (1934), Rumeileh: Being Ain Shems Excavations (Palestine), Part III (Biblical and Kindred Studies 5), Haverford. GREENER, A./BARKAY, G./DVIRA, Z. (2017), Iron Age II Figurine Fragments from the Temple Mount Soil, in: E. BARUCH/A. FAUST (eds.), New Studies on Jerusalem 22, Ramat-Gan, 123–146 (Hebrew). GUNNEWEG, J. et al. (1994), Inter-regional Contacts between Tell en-Nasbeh and Littoral Philistine Centers in Canaan during Early Iron Age I, Archaeometry 36(2), 227–239. KANG, H.G. (2013), Ashdod Ware found at Khirbet Qeiyafa and its Implications for Understanding the Tradition of Philistine Decorated Pottery, Mediterranean Review 6(2), 1–31. KANG, H.G./GARFINKEL, Y. (2013), Ashdod Ware I: Middle Philistine Decorated Ware, in: Y. GARFINKEL/S. GANOR (eds.), Khirbet Qeiyafa, Vol. 1: Excavation Report 2007–2008, Jerusalem, 151– 160. KELSO, J.L. (1968), The Excavation of Bethel (1934–1960) (AASOR 39), Cambridge. KILLEBREW, A.E. (1998), Ceramic Craft and Technology During the Late Bronze and Iron I Ages: The Relationship Between Pottery Technology, Style and Cultural Diversity. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, The Hebrew University Jerusalem. KISILEVITZ, S. (2015), The Iron Age IIA Judahite Temple at Moẓa, TA 42(2), 147–167. KISILEVITZ, S. (2016), Terracotta Figurines from the Iron IIA Temple at Moza, Judah, Les Carnets de l’ACoSt 15, 1–7. KLETTER, R. (2001), Between Archaeology and Theology: The Pillar Figurines from Judah and the Asherah, in: A. MAZAR (ed.), Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan (JSOT.Sup 331), Sheffield, 179–216. KNAUF, E.A. (2001), David, Saul, and the Philistines: From Geography to History, BN 109, 15–18. MAEIR, A.M. (2004), What’s Between Gath of the Philistines and Biblical Jerusalem: Choice Perspectives and Implications for the Study of the History of the Land of Israel in the Iron Age IIA, in: E. BARUCH/A. FAUST (eds.), New Studies on Jerusalem 10, Ramat-Gan, 51–62, English Abstract p. 46* (Hebrew). MARTIN, M.A.S. (2017), The Provenance of Philistine Pottery in Northern Canaan, with a Focus on the Jezreel Valley, TA 44(2), 193–231. MASTER, D.M. (2003), Trade and Politics: Ashkelon’s Balancing Act in the Seventh Century B.C.E, BASOR 330, 47–64. MAZAR, E./KARLIN, M. (2015), A Fragment of a Lion-Headed Rhyton, in: E. MAZAR (ed.), The Summit of the City of David: Excavations 2005–2008. Final Reports, Vol. 1: Area G, Jerusalem, 539– 540. MCCOWN, C.C. (1947), Tell en-Naṣbeh, Vol. 1, Berkeley/New Haven. MEIBERG, L. (2013), Philistine Lion-Headed Cups: Aegean or Anatolian?, in: A.E. KILLEBREW/G. LEHMANN (eds.), The Philistines and the Other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology (SBL – ABS 15), Atlanta, 131–144.

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NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ, Ł. (2013), The Philistines in Jerusalem?: The Use of Archaeological Data as the Ethnic Marker: The Case of the Philistines, Other ‘Sea Peoples’, and Judah, in: L. BOMBARDIERI et al. (eds.), SOMA 2012: Identity and Connectivity. Proceedings of the 16th Symposium on Mediterranean Archaeology, Florence, Italy, 1–3 March 2012, Volume 1 (BARIS 2581 [1]), Oxford, 89– 95. PRESS, M.D. (2004), Ashkelon 4: The Iron Age Figurines of Ashkelon and Philistia (Final Reports of the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon 4), Winona Lake. SAPIR-HEN et al. (2013), Pig Husbandry in Iron Age Israel and Judah: New Insights Regarding the Origin of the “Taboo”, ZDPV 129(1), 1–20. SERGI, O. (2013), Judah’s Expansion in Historical Context, TA 40(2), 226–246. SHAI, I. (2009), Understanding Philistine Migration: City Names and Their Implications, BASOR 354, 15–24. SINGER, A. (2007), The Soils of Israel, Berlin. SINGER-AVITZ, L. (1999), Beersheba – A Gateway Community in Southern Arabian Long-Distance Trade in the Eighth Century B.C.E, TA 26(1), 3–74. SINGER-AVITZ, L. (2002), Arad: The Iron Age Pottery Assemblages, TA 29(1), 110–214. UZIEL, J./SZANTON, N./COHEN-WEINBERGER, A. (2015), Cultural Influences and Interconnections between Judah and Philistia in the Iron Age II: The Case of the Jerusalemite Late Philistine Decorated Ware, in: G.D. STIEBEL et al. (eds.), New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region 9, Jerusalem, 74–90 (Hebrew). WAMPLER J.C. (1947), Tell en Naṣbeh, Vol. 2: The Pottery, New Haven. YASUR–LANDAU, A. (2010), The Philistines and Aegean Migration at the end of the Late Bronze Age, Cambridge.

Impact of Destruction on Trade at the End of the Late Bronze Age in the Southern Levant Jesse Michael Millek∗ 1. Introduction Destruction1 has played a critical role in our understanding of what brought about the end of the Late Bronze Age2 (henceforth LBA) in the Eastern Mediterranean ca. 1200 BCE.3 This interpretive role extends as well to our understanding of what might have brought about the cessation of trade and commerce between the various kingdoms, regions, polities, and cities of the Eastern Mediterranean.4 This theoretical suggestion has been in the scholarly literature for decades. In the early 1990s, Iakovidis proposed that the destruction and loss of the Levantine ports ca. 1200 BCE proved to be a disastrous blow to the Achaean rulers permanently breaking off trade connections.5 He stated that due to the destructions, “the capacity of coordinated commercial and economic I would like to thank Brian Schmidt for his helpful comments on this article as well as one anonymous reviewer. I would also like to express my gratitude to Felix Hagemeyer for inviting me to submit this paper even though I was not able to be a part of the conference from which this volume originated. The research presented in this article is part of a larger project “Destruction and the End of the Late Bronze Age in the Eastern Mediterranean” funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft/German Research Foundation. 1 See FINKELSTEIN 2009; MILLEK 2019; 2019a; 2020b for a definition of what constitutes a destruction event. Finkelstein has identified the evidence for destruction by the presence of at least two of the following features. “1. A black layer with charcoal, representing burnt beams, on the floor, usually overlaid with a thick ashy layer. 2. A thick accumulation of collapse – of bricks or stones – on the floor […] 3. In most cases, an accumulation of finds, mainly broken pottery vessels, on the floors” (FINKELSTEIN 2009:113). 2 Given that the LBA did not end at all sites and in all regions at the same time (see discussion in MILLEK 2020:36–88), the “end of the LBA” is defined here as the 25 years before and after 1200 BCE. This encapsulates many of the major historical events which define the end of the LBA such as the movement of the Sea Peoples, the destruction of Ugarit, the destruction of most of the major palaces in Mycenean Greece, and the fall of the Hittite empire. 3 See for example WARD/JOUKOWSKY 1992; DREWS 1993; GITIN/MAZAR/STERN 1998; OREN 2000; BACHHUBER/ROBERTS 2009; KILLEBREW/LEHMANN 2013; CLINE 2014; KNAPP/MANNING 2016; FISCHER/BÜRGE 2017. 4 See for example IAKOVIDIS 1990; BELL 2006; 2009; MONROE 2009; KNAPP/MANNING 2016 as well as various articles in WARD/JOUKOWSKY 1992; GITIN/MAZAR/STERN 1998; OREN 2000; BACHHUBER/ROBERTS 2009; KILLEBREW/LEHMANN 2013; FISCHER/BÜRGE 2017. 5 IAKOVIDIS 1990:318–319. ∗

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planning on a large scale and under a unified control was lost.”6 Bell in the mid-2000s proposed that Ugarit was the major trading hub for tin during the LBA in the Eastern Mediterranean. She likens the role tin played during the LBA to the role that oil plays in our modern industrial society. Accordingly, she suggested that with the destruction of Ugarit, the tin trade was disrupted as well as the flow of tin into the Eastern Mediterranean creating a crisis in the availability of tin never seen before.7 Most recently, Knapp and Manning have suggested that the destruction and devastation of the ports of trade at the end of the LBA as a critical break in the link of international trade connections. As they state, “once ports and harbors were devastated, there would have been no place left for traders (and thus for pirates) to conduct their business.”8 With destruction then acting as the assumed catalyst which broke up trade at the end of the LBA, the natural question that must be asked is of course did destruction actually play a role in disrupting trade networks and ending trade relations at the end of the LBA in the Eastern Mediterranean? Answering such a broad question for the entirety of the Eastern Mediterranean would be an impossibility for a single article. Thus, the focus of this paper will be to examine two specific case studies. Namely, what effect destruction might have had on destabilizing and breaking off trade relations between LBA Cyprus and the southern Levant and between LBA Mycenean Greece and the southern Levant? To do this, I will first present a regional and chronological overview of where and in what quantities Cypriot and Aegean pottery have been uncovered in the southern Levant as well as their chronological development. This will be followed by an examination to ascertain whether or not any destruction events in the southern Levant, Cyprus, or the Argolid in Greece9 could have inhibited this trade. I will then present a brief overview of trade which continued in the southern Levant even after the end of the LBA demonstrating that trade routes and networks were still in existence after 1200 BCE. In all, this article seeks to answer the question, what role, if any, did destruction have in ending trade between the southern Levant with Cyprus and Mycenean Greece, and, more specifically, did destruction actually cause a disruption in interregional trade ca. 1200 BCE? Period

Egyptian dynasties

Egyptian Kings

Southern Levant

Cyprus

Aegean

MBA/LBA 1650–1450

Early 18th 1540–1475

Ahmose 1550–1525

LB IA 1550–1450

LC IA 1650–1550

LH IIA 1600–1450

LC IB 1550–1450

6

IAKOVIDIS 1990:319. BELL 2006:110; 2009; 2012. 8 KNAPP/MANNING 2016:135. 9 The Argolid being the main source of imported Mycenean pottery which too makes up the majority of imported Aegean pottery. See below. 7

41

Impact of Destruction on Trade at the End of the Late Bronze Age Mid-late LBA 1450–1200

Mid-late 18th 1475–1295

Tuthmosis III 1479–1425

LB IB 1450–1400

LC IIA 1450–1375

LH IIB 1450–1400

19th 1295–1186

Amenophis III 1390–1352

LB IIA 1400–1300

LC IIB 1375–1340/25

LH IIIA:1 1400–1375

Ramesses II 1279–1213

LB IIB 1300–1200

LC IIC 1340/25–1200

LH IIIA:2 1375–1300 LH IIIB 1300–1190

LBA transitional / Iron I

20th 1186–1070

Ramesses III 1186–1155

Iron IA 1200–1150

LC IIIA 1200–1100

Iron IB 1150–1000

LC IIIB 1100–1050

LH IIIC 1190–1030

Table 1: Comparative chronology of the regions discussed in this study.

2. A Regional and Chronological Overview of Cypriot and Mycenean Pottery in the Southern Levant There have been various surveys tracking the development of Cypriot and Aegean pottery throughout the Levant.10 The details of these studies obviously encapsulate more information than can be presented here. For that reason, information on the types, forms, use, and appreciation of these non-local ceramics in the local cultures will not be discussed here as it has been well documented and detailed elsewhere.11 The focus in this article will be placed on the regional distribution patterns as well as the chronological development for both Cypriot and Aegean pottery in the southern Levant. The material will be based on the most recent regional and temporal analysis presented by Millek.12 Cypriot pottery has been uncovered at 105 sites throughout the southern Levant. An exact number of sherds cannot be given as not all excavation material has been published or remains under study; however, the number is at least over 10,000 sherds.13 79% of 10

For Cypriot pottery, see GITLIN 1977; 1981; BERGOFFEN 1989; 1991; BELL 2006; PAPA-DI2013; 2015; GREENER 2015; 2016; VILIAN 2015; MILLEK 2020. For Mycenean pottery, see LEONARD 1994; VAN WIJNGAARDEN 2002; BUSHNELL 2013; PAPADIMITRIOU 2013; 2015; GREENER 2015; 2016; STOCKHAMMER 2019; MILLEK 2020. 11 GITLIN 1977; 1981; BERGOFFEN 1989; 1991; LEONARD 1994; VAN WIJNGAARDEN 2002; BUSHNELL 2013; PAPADIMITRIOU 2013; 2015; STOCKHAMMER 2013; 2017; 2019. 12 MILLEK 2020. 13 MILLEK 2020:190.323, table 1. This number will increase over time. Continued work on the Cypriot pottery uncovered in the anchorage at Tell Abu Hawam has revealed more than 2,000 additional sherds of Cypriot pottery which are still under study (Huixin Sha pers. comm.: 03.26.2020). The date range of these sherds is currently unclear; however, they appear to derive from Hamilton’s general Level V datable to a portion of the LB II ca. 1350–1230 BCE (ARTZY 2013:10; 2016:100). The anchorage is of course an exceptional context. As Artzy describes the pottery uncovered at the anchorage,

MITRIOU

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all of the Cypriot ceramic assemblage was uncovered at only ten sites. These are: Lachish, Tell el-ʿAjjul, Ashkelon, Hazor, Tell Jemmeh, Tel Mor, Tell Beit Mirsim, Tell Abu Hawam, Tel Batash (Timnah), and Gezer.14 Thus, while Cypriot pottery had a wide distributional range in the southern Levant, in general, the concentration at any given site was extremely low. For example, Lachish by itself yielded more Cypriot pottery by sherd count than 95 sites combined, or 91% of all sites with Cypriot pottery, even including sites such as Megiddo and Beth-Shean.15 Likewise, not all regions received as much Cypriot pottery as others. Sites in Transjordan yielded few sherds of Cypriot pottery as the highest concentration was uncovered at the Amman Airport Structure which yielded only 53 sherds.16 From the accumulated data, it appears that the concentration of Cypriot pottery was in Cisjordan in the regions south of the Yarkon River. This geographic area yielded 82% of all Cypriot pottery based on sherd count mainly concentrated in the Shephelah and the Southern Coastal Plain.17 This is again another indicator that while Cypriot pottery was widely available, it appears to have been largely consumed at coastal sites and sites in Cisjordan south of the Yarkon River. Chronologically, Cypriot pottery was uncovered throughout the entirety of the LBA first appearing well before the LBA in the MB IIA.18 However, while Cypriot pottery was available throughout the LBA, the peak of Cypriot pottery exchange took place in the LB IIA as 53% of all well dated Cypriot pottery was derived from this period.19 As Gittlen and Bergoffen have noted in the past, and as Millek has also recently “it is likely that a good percentage of the pieces were refuse, damaged wares, thrown from the boats during or following the arrival. When the boats were anchored and the goods were unloaded, damaged ceramics from either the journey or the treatment at the port were then thrown out and ended up in shallow water” (ARTZY 2007:362). Thus, the high amount of non-local ceramics must be viewed within the depositional context. One would expect an exceptional number of non-local ceramics if this was indeed a dump or disposal site (See note in MILLEK 2020:194). When comparing these sherds to those discovered in domestic structures, public buildings, or graves, this unusual context must be kept in mind when contrasting sherd statistics. With that said, the inclusion of this material, once the study of it has been completed, will alter the statistics presented here. What will become obvious is that Tell Abu Hawam, rather than acting as the gateway for all Cypriot pottery entering into the southern Levant which has been suggested elsewhere (ARTZY 2006), it more likely acted as the main port for the Jezreel Valley, Mount Carmel, the Acco Plain, and the Northern Central Hill Country, and perhaps Jordan along with the Galilee, though ports in Lebanon could have also provided sites such as Hazor with their Cypriot pottery (though Artzy has suggested Tell Abu Hawam as the supplier of Hazor’s Cypriot pottery, see ARTZY 2013:13; 2016:103–104). However, Tell el-ʿAjjul, Ashkelon, and other smaller ports still would have been the likely ports of entry for Cypriot pottery in Cisjordan south of the Yarkon River. 14 MILLEK 2020:190. 15 MILLEK 2020:190.323, table 1. Lachish by itself yielded 37% or 3,828 sherds of Cypriot pottery. It is the site with the most Cypriot pottery by sherd count of any in the entirety of the southern Levant beating out all coastal and harbor sites. 16 Which is in comparison to the 486 sherds of Aegean pottery uncovered at the site, which is the second highest concentration of this type of pottery in the entire southern Levant (MILLEK 2020:200). 17 MILLEK 2020:190.193. Again, the inclusion of the Cypriot pottery still under study from the anchorage from Tell Abu Hawam will dampen this stark statistic. 18 BERGOFFEN 1989:153–200; 2002; PAPADIMITRIOU 2013:109.114. 19 MILLEK 2020:191. See also MILLEK 2020, tables 2–10 and maps 2–5.

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demonstrated, the end of the LB IIA marked a drastic decrease in the amount of Cypriot pottery in the southern Levant.20 While Cypriot pottery was still available in the southern Levant during the LB IIB, contrary to Gittlen’s original assessment,21 there was at least a 63% decrease in the amount of Cypriot pottery compared to the LB IIA. This 63% decrease was likely greater as some of the Cypriot pottery uncovered at Lachish, Tell Beit Mirisim, and Beth-Shemesh which has been dated to the LB IIB likely arrived during the LB IIA and was residual in the LB IIB.22 Consequently, when speaking of the end of trade with Cyprus during the LBA, what is clear from the available data is that the downturn in trade relations, or at least the trade in Cypriot ceramics,23 took place 100 years or more before the end of the LBA. Meaning, that any possible destruction which took place at the end of the LBA could not have affected this trade which by that time had already petered out to only a small semblance of what it was during the LB IIA. Aegean pottery, largely consisting of Mycenean pottery with a very small percentage of Minoan pottery,24 was more limited both in terms of its geographic extent and in terms of concentration. Aegean pottery was uncovered at 81 sites throughout the southern Levant with approximately 2,800 sherds.25 While being more limited both geographically and in terms of sherd count26 Aegean pottery does follow a similar pattern as Cypriot pottery. 76% of all Aegean pottery was uncovered at only eight sites which are: Tell Abu Hawam, the Amman Airport Structure, Lachish, Hazor, Beth-Shean, Megiddo, Tel Dan, and Tell el-ʿAjjul.27 Much as Lachish yielded more Cypriot pottery than 95 out of 105 other sites combined, Tell Abu Hawam too yielded more Aegean pottery than 73 out of 81, or 90%, of all other sites combined. Thus, as in the case of Cypriot pottery, while there is a wide distribution among sites in the southern Levant, the concentration of Aegean pottery is restricted to only a handful of sites. In contrast to those regions with high concentrations of the Cypriot pottery, other regions yielded the highest concentrations of Aegean pottery. While sites south of the Yarkon River yielded more Cypriot pottery than those north of the Yarkon River and in Transjordan, for the Aegean pottery this trend is largely reversed.28 Whereas the Carmel, the Acco Plain, the Jezreel Valley, the Galilee and Transjordan yielded only 18% of all Cypriot pottery, these regions yielded 67% of all Aegean pottery with the largest 20

GITLIN 1977; 1981; BERGOFFEN 1989; 1991; MILLEK 2020:191–192. GITLIN 1981. 22 GITTLEN 1977:520.529, n. 35; BUNIMOVITZ 2004:1269; MILLEK 2020. Lachish, Tell Beth Mirisim, and Beth-Shemesh yielded together 31% of all Cypriot pottery during the LB IIB. 23 See MILLEK 2020:193–199 for the question of Cypriot copper and how this Cypriot pottery data relates to the trade in copper. 24 Of the Aegean pottery uncovered in the southern Levant, only 3% of it was Minoan (MILLEK 2020:200). 25 MILLEK 2020:200.329, table 11. 26 See GREENER 2016 for a discussion of why the comparison between Cypriot sherd count and Mycenean sherd count may not be as valid as it appears to be. 27 MILLEK 2020:200.329, table 11. 28 Though as much as Tell Abu Hawam and Hazor were outliers for Cypriot pottery in the north, Lachish and Tell el-ʿAjjul stand out as outliers for Aegean pottery south of the Yarkon River (MILLEK 2020:200–201). 21

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concentrations at Tell Abu Hawam and the Amman Airport Structure.29 This may indicate two separate markets for these two types of imported pottery with the Aegean wares preferred in Transjordan and north of the Yarkon River while Cypriot pottery was preferred in the areas south of the Yarkon River in Cisjordan.30 Chronologically, Aegean pottery has a much shorter meaningful period of exchange when compared to Cypriot pottery. While 59 sherds have been recovered which are dated to the LH II or LH IIIA1, the majority of Aegean pottery dates to LH IIIA2 through IIIB or roughly 1375 through 1190 BCE. A general discussion of the chronological development for all Aegean pottery in the southern Levant remains difficult as more than 42% of the sherds can only be dated to the LH period while an additional 16% can only be dated to the LH IIIA through IIIB.31 However, despite these difficulties some crucial information can be gleaned from the archaeological evidence which is the generally recognized date when this trade ceased. According to Bushnell’s study of Mycenean juglets, this trade largely came to a halt at the end of the LH IIIB1 or sometime around 1250 BCE.32 Moreover, as Stockhammer has summarized, there was a shift from imported Mycenean pottery deriving from the Argolid in Mycenaean Greece to Aegeanstyle pottery produced on Cyprus and elsewhere during the late 13th century after 1250 BCE with only a few examples of actual imported Mycenean pottery appearing in the southern Levant during this time.33 In Stockhammer’s terminology, this is a shift from the Horizon Tell Abu Hawam, which is defined by the import of small transport vessels such as stirrup jars originating in the Argolid, to the Horizon Nami which marks the near cessation of imported Mycenean pottery from Greece.34 Much like the Cypriot pottery, based on the chronological development, Aegean pottery produced in the Aegean largely ceased to be imported to the southern Levant before the end of the LBA and not as a result of destructions which occurred after 1225 BCE.

3. Destruction and the Cessation of Trade at the End of the Late Bronze Age Purely from a chronological standpoint, it appears that destruction at the end of the LBA could not have influenced trade in Cypriot or Aegean pottery. For both types of ceramics, the major decrease or even cessation of trade appears to have occurred well before 1225 BCE. However, there remain other aspects of trade which might not be visible in the archaeological record such as foodstuffs35 or copper, a major export of Alashiya, which are not necessarily archaeologically visible. Therefore, the question remains,

29

MILLEK 2020:202–203. MILLEK 2020:208–210. 31 MILLEK 2020:201.329–334, tables 12–24. 32 BUSHNELL 2013:333. 33 STOCKHAMMER 2017; 2019. 34 STOCKHAMMER 2019:237–241. 35 See KNAPP 1991. 30

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could destruction between 1225–1175 BCE on Cyprus and in the southern Levant have been an inhibiter to trade relations outside of trade in pottery? The short answer to this question is no. Destruction is unlikely to have played a role in the cessation of trade relations between Cyprus and the southern Levant simply due to the fact that much of the presumed destruction did not occur. With regard to the southern Levantine ports, all the major ports including Tell Abu Hawam, Acco, Shiqmona, Tel Dor, Jaffa, and Ashkelon have all been cited as destroyed ca. 1200 BCE.36 However, none of these sites were actually destroyed at the end of the LBA. Neither Tell Abu Hawam, Acco, Shiqmona, Tel Dor, nor Ashkelon have produced any evidence that they were destroyed at the end of the LBA while the destruction of Jaffa’s gate complex has been recently redated to the late 12th century BCE.37 Therefore, there is no evidence that any major port in the southern Levant was destroyed between 1225–1175 BCE which could have inhibited trade. The same is true for Lebanon as no ports of trade were destroyed at the end of the LBA.38 The only major port city in the whole of the Levant which was destroyed at the end of the LBA was Ras Shamra ca. 1185 BCE. While one could assume that this might have hindered trade,39 as I will demonstrate below, trade in another vital commodity, namely tin, was not hindered by the destruction and abandonment of Ras Shamra. A lack of destruction is also apparent on the island of Cyprus ca. 1200 BCE. Despite the fact that several important sites have been listed as destroyed such as Kition, Hala Sultan Tekke, Maroni-Vournes, Alassa Paliotaverna, Kouklia Palaepaphos, and Kourion (Episkopi)-Bamboula,40 none of these sites were actually destroyed at the end of the LC IIC or the beginning of the LC IIIA the time surrounding 1200 BCE.41 At Kition, no evidence of destruction was uncovered nor did the excavators ever claim that the site was destroyed.42 Maroni-Vournes was abandoned without any evidence of destruction.43 Alassa Paliotaverna experienced no destruction in the transition from the LC IIC to the LC IIIA which was also the case for nearby Kourion (Episkopi)-Bamboula which too suffered no destruction.44 Hala Sultan Tekke has been assigned a destruction to its Stratum 2 ca. 1200 BCE.45 However, the only possible evidence for destruction came from City Quarter 2 the Northwestern Structure, Room 44 where some silver jewelry had 36

See discussion in MILLEK 2017; 2020b. BURKE et al. 2017; MILLEK 2017; 2020b; Shay Bar pers. comm.: 04.13.2020. 38 BELL 2006:110.137; 2009:32; SADER 2014:618; NÚÑEZ 2018. Sader mentions a destruction of Sidon at the end of the 13th cent. BCE (SADER 2014:618). However, continued excavations at the site have yielded no evidence of a destruction (Claude Serhal pers. comm.: 04.11.2018). Nevertheless, excavation at the site continue and this picture lacking a destruction could be changed by future finds at Sidon. 39 A suggestion that is not without its problems. See: MILLEK 2020:258–259. 40 DREWS 1993; KNAPP 1997; NUR/CLINE 2000; CLINE 2014:110–111, fig. 13; KNAPP/MANNING 2016. 41 MILLEK forthcoming. 42 KARAGEORGHIS/DEMAS 1985:6–11.25–37. 43 CADOGAN 1996:16–19; 2011:401. 44 BENSON 1969:7.11.16.19–21; 1970:35; WEINBERG 1983:9.37–52; HADJISAVVAS 2017:129–214. 45 FISCHER 2017; FISCHER/BÜRGE 2018:72.151.616–617. 37

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been melted into a lump together with some unmelted gold indicating that there was a fire reaching temperatures around 1000°C based on the melting point of both metals.46 No evidence of action by fire was found in another other space which could be attributed to a destruction in both City Quarters 1 and 2 nor was there any debris typically associated with a destruction.47 While a small area may have experienced high heat, which could have been related to any number of processes,48 there is no evidence that suggests that Hala Sultan Tekke was destroyed ca. 1200 BCE. What is known about Kouklia Palaepaphos from the LC IIC, apart from the poorly preserved Sanctuary I,49 is largely derived from tombs and the two well fillings at Evreti.50 Some burnt pottery which was uncovered in the well fillings was assumed to be the result of a destruction of the site by the Sea Peoples.51 The recent examination of this pottery, mainly the pithoi sherds, demonstrates that only a few examples had traces of burning and it was not clear if this occurred pre or post firing of the vessels.52 Given that little is known of the actual settlement, some burnt pottery in a well filling is hardly sufficient evidence to conclude Kouklia Palaepaphos was destroyed. Enkomi is typically touted on maps and lists of destruction as a tremendous disaster of a destruction event.53 However, the extent of this destruction has largely been blown out of proportion. Only two rooms out of the structure from Area III suffered from action by fire while half of the rooms showed no evidence of any kind of damage at all. Likewise, in the Area I structure, the majority of rooms were unaffected by any kind of destruction.54 However, more importantly, is that even though Enkomi did suffer a mild destruction event ca. 1200 BCE the site was renewed and, in some ways, thrived in the following phase as the occupants utilized ashlar masonry to construct grander structures than what had been there previously.55 Indeed, for some sites on Cyprus, the post 1200 BCE world was not one of crisis but rather one that flourished.56 Taking all of this together, there is no evidence that a wave of destruction across Cyprus which could have

46

FISCHER/BÜRGE 2018:151. FISCHER/BÜRGE 2018:37–72.134–151 48 Interestingly, while this is used as evidence of a high heat intensity destruction by fire with a known temperature of around 1000°C, there is no evidence of any vitrification or calcination, both processes which begin to occur after 900°C (STEVANOVIĆ 1997:366). Given that pottery was found in the same area as the melted silver, this heating event must not have been extensive or even a fire at all as one might expect this high heat to have affected other artifacts outside of one lump of silver. It was likely a contained event. 49 For a discussion of Sanctuary 1, see MAIER/KARAGEORGHIS 1984:91–102. 50 MAIER/KARAGEORGHIS 1984:52; MAIER/VON WARTBURG 1985:146. For a full discussion of the wells and their contents see VON RÜDEN et al. 2016. 51 MAIER 1969:42. Though Maier later acknowledged that the burnt pottery was not sufficient evidence to conclude there had been a destructive event (MAIER/KARAGEORGHIS 1984:79). 52 KESWANI 2016:217–234. 53 DREWS 1993; KNAPP 1997; NUR/CLINE 2000; CLINE 2014:110–111, fig. 10; KNAPP/MANNING 2016; FISCHER 2017. 54 MILLEK forthcoming. 55 DIKAIOS 1969; 1971. 56 IACOVOU 2008; 2013; 2013a; 2014; GEORGIOU 2011; 2015; 2017. 47

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been a hindrance effected the island. There simply was no such wave of destruction.57 Therefore, given that there is no evidence of destruction that could have caused a disruption in trade at either end of the trade network between Cyprus and the southern Levant, the cessation or near cessation of archaeologically visible trade relations had to have been due to other factors. For the Cypriot ceramics, there are multiple theories such as a decrease in desirability, changes in the political climate during the 13th century, or a shift in focus with Cyprus taking its trade to those closer to home in Anatolia or the Northern Levant.58 In terms of the copper exchange, for the southern Levant local sources of copper from the Wadi Faynan or Timnah overtook foreign sources of copper as they were likely a cheaper and more readily accessible source of a valuable commodity.59 Indeed, by the early 12th century BCE, copper was largely imported from the Arabah essentially replacing Cypriot copper.60 Whatever the reason(s) may be, it is unlikely that destruction either in the southern Levant or Cyprus would have played a role in it as, simply put, such supposed destruction never transpired in the first place. For Aegean ceramics, one must take a step slightly back in time to examine if destruction events in Greece in the mid-13th century BCE effected trade. More specially, this examination must focus on the Argolid in the north-eastern Peloponnese as the majority of imported Mycenean pottery was produced in this region.61 There are three major sites which have produced remains dating to this period: Mycenae, Tiryns, and Midea. At Mycenae, the city did suffer an extensive destruction event, likely caused by an earthquake, in the mid-13th century BCE.62 However, despite this destruction event, the city was quickly rebuilt, and there would have been enough time to resume interregional economic activities if this trade had been a vital part of the economy at Mycenae.63 For nearby Tiryns, while the Unterburg did suffer a destruction event in the of SH III Mitte (horizon 16a7) the city did not die and was rebuilt.64 Again, the final decades at Tiryns prior to 1200 BCE show a city still with the capability to trade with the wider world. No evidence of a mid-13th century BCE destruction has been uncovered at Midea the other major site in the Argolid.65 Thus, while destruction may have affected two of the major sites within the main region where imported Mycenean pottery was 57 The small fortified site of Maa-Palaeokastro was destroyed within the first quarter of the 12th century BCE likely by warfare shortly after it was established (KARAGEORGHIS/DEMAS 1988; MILLEK forthcoming). However, this destruction would not have affected trade as the destruction of one small settlement on the outskirts of society would not cause a break in exchange as the major ports of trade were still running strong. 58 GITTLEN 1977:519; 1981:51; BERGOFFEN 1989:211; BUSHNELL 2013:372–373; MILLEK 2020a:197–199. 59 ASHKENAZI/BUNIMOVITZ/STERN 2016:170. 60 YAHALOM-MACK et al. 2014. 61 VAN WIJNGAARDEN 2002:13; ARTZY 2006:52; 2007:364; ZUCKERMAN et al. 2010:410; ARTZY/ZAGORSKI 2012; STOCKHAMMER 2019. 62 IAKOVIDIS 1986; FRENCH/STOCKHAMMER/DAMM-MEINHARDT 2009. 63 IAKOVIDIS 1986; FRENCH 2002; FRENCH/STOCKHAMMER/DAMM-MEINHARDT 2009. 64 FRENCH/STOCKHAMMER/DAMM-MEINHARDT 2009; MARAN 2010. 65 DEMAKOPOULOU 2007.

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produced, these same sites were quickly rebuilt. Even if the local pottery producing villages in the surrounding area had been destroyed during this time by an earthquake, this still would not be reason enough for the total cessation of trade. It may have hindered trade for a period of time; nevertheless, trade could have been reinstated if there had been a need to do so in the Argolid. Given the nature of the trade between Mycenean Greece and the wider Eastern Mediterranean world, there is no reason to assume this trade was constant. It was more likely incremental.66 A lack of trade between Mycenean Greece and the remainder of the Eastern Mediterranean for years or even decades was likely a common reoccurrence,67 and even if a destructive natural disaster inhibited pottery production and trade for several years, it would not explain the near total cessation of trade which took place in the mid-13th century BCE. Therefore, there is no archaeological rationale to say that these destructions constituted an ongoing hindrance to trade activities outside of perhaps a few years. Ras Shamra is a contemporary example of this as the site was likely struck by an earthquake as well in the mid-13th century BCE; yet, this destruction did not bring about the cessation of Ugarit’s ability to trade and exchange. Rather the site was rebuilt, and trade continued until the very end of the LBA when the city was completely destroyed and abandoned.68 The reason for the cessation of trade between the Aegean and the southern Levant69 is also likely to be multivariable70 and could be for many of the same reasons listed above for Cyprus.71 Nevertheless, once again, neither destruction at the end of the LBA nor during the mid-13th century BCE can explain this cessation in trade between these two regions.

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See a full discussion for the lack of connectedness between the Aegean and the rest of the Eastern Mediterranean during the LBA in MILLEK 2020:122–140. 67 This is a view which has even been adopted by CLINE who states: “Whereas previously I argued for a constant stream of contact between the Aegean, Egypt, and the Eastern Mediterranean, upon reflection I would not now be at all surprised if trade had actually started and stopped, then started again, with years or even decades intervening between contacts” (CLINE 2010:166). 68 YON 1992; CALLOT 1994:204–211; SINGER 1999. See MILLEK 2019 for an overview of the destruction of Ugarit and the likely cause. 69 See KNAPP 1993; KNAPP/CHERRY 1994; ZUKERMAN 2010; MILLEK 2020:123–140.208–212 for a discussion of thalassocracies in the Eastern Mediterranean and whether or not Cyprus acted as a middleman for trade between the Aegean world and the Levant. 70 One such suggestion is that there was a trade embargo against the Ahhiyawans representing an embargo for at least part of Mycenean Greece (CLINE 1994:71–74; BECKMAN/BRYCE/CLINE 2011:269; CLINE 2014:71). The text under question is AhT2 [CTH 105] in which Tudhalia IV says to the king of Amurru: “You shall not allow any ship of Ahhiyawa to go to him (that is, the king of Assyria)” (BECKMAN/BRYCE/CLINE 2011:63). However, as Bryce has already pointed out, this “embargo” is not against Ahhiyawa but rather Assyria (BRYCE 2003). Ships from Ahhiyawa were not allowed to go to Assyria because of the political dilemmas between the Hittites and Assyria; however, nowhere does it state anything about Ahhiyawan ships not being allowed to go to Amurru, Ugarit, or to the Hittites. Therefore, the suggestion that an embargo could explain the cessation of trade is not founded on any historical grounds. 71 See MILLEK 2020:123–140 for a discussion of how vital trade between the Aegean and the rest of the Eastern Mediterranean might have been and why it appears from the archaeological evidence to have been far less intense and less economically significant than has been previously maintained.

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4. Ongoing Trade in the Southern Levant after 1200 BCE Trade between the southern Levant and Cyprus and the Aegean may have for all intents and purposes ceased during the early to mid-13th century BCE owing to non-destruction related causes. However, despite the general sentiment that trade and interregional exchange came to an end ca. 1200 BCE, this too is in actuality a misnomer. Certain forms of trade came to an end, while others continued or even thrived during the Iron I period in the southern Levant. One such example is tin which has no nearby local sources in the southern Levant. Bronze and Iron Age tin could have been mined in Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, or as far away as Cornwall England.72 Regardless of where the metal was derived, whether coming in from the distant northwest or the east, it had to be imported to make bronze. Originally, it was assumed that there was a shortage of tin at the end of the LBA which caused the transition away from tin bronze to the development and use of iron objects.73 Moreover, it has also been postulated that Ugarit acted as the main distributor of tin and with its destruction the tin trade was destabilized.74 However, archeometallurgical studies from the past 30 years have demonstrated that there was never a drop in the amount of available tin in the Levant and Cyprus during the Iron I.75 Moreover, arsenic, antimony, and zinc were not employed to a greater degree as a replacement alloying agent during the Iron I indicating that tin was still available to such a degree that these other elements were not needed as substitutes76. As Yahalom-Mack and Eliyahu-Behar have recently summarized the situation: “With respect to the question of tin availability for the production of bronze, analysis of 95 copper based artifacts from LB II–Iron II contexts showed that tin-bronze was continuously used and that the average tin (Sn) content (5–6 wt%) was maintained throughout the periods. This supports earlier studies that showed there was no shortage of tin during the transition period […].”77

As there is no evidence that there was a decrease in tin during the Iron I, and because tin is a non-local metal which had to have originated from far flung sources, trade in tin continued after 1200 BCE even without Ugarit. If Ugarit had played a primary role in tin distribution, an assumption which has not been verified, some other actors would have taken over this trade. Here too it appears that destruction did not hinder the tin trade as it never ceased. Trade and exchange also continued between the southern Levant and Egypt during the Iron I which is particularly evident in and around the region of Tel Dor. Imported 72 STÖLLNER et al. 2011; GALILI et al. 2013; GARNER 2015; BERGER et al. 2019. Though recent investigations may indicate that some tin could have been produced in the South Caucasus. On this see ERB-SATULLO/GILMOUR/KHAKHUTAISHVILI 2015. 73 See YAHALOM-MACK/ELIYAHU-BEHAR 2015 and PALERMO 2018:27–29 for an overview of the history of this theory. 74 BELL 2009; 2012. 75 See WALDBAUM 1989; 1999; PICKLES/PELTENBURG 1998; YAHALOM-MACK et al. 2014; YAHALOM-MACK/ELIYAHU-BEHAR 2015; ASHKENAZI/BUNIMOVITZ/STERN 2016. 76 PICKLES/PELTENBURG 1998:68. 77 YAHALOM-MACK/ELIYAHU-BEHAR 2015:298.

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Egyptian pottery is abundant in the early Iron Age at Dor78 while imported Egyptian amulets and Nile perch were also uncovered in greater abundance during the Iron I than during the LBA throughout the southern Levant.79 Likewise, stamp seals made of steatite and enstatite80 continued to be brought into and manufactured by workers in the southern Levant during the Iron I.81 However, both are non-local materials and had to be imported to the southern Levant.82 This too represents a continuation of trade across the 1200 BCE boundary in the southern Levant. Silver, another non-local metal which originated either in the north in Anatolia, to the west in the Aegean, or beyond in Iberia,83 appears to increase in availability during the Iron I rather than decrease.84 The continuation of trade after 1200 BCE is also apparent in Philistia predominantly at Ashkelon. Two Aegean-style vessels were uncovered in Grid 38 Phase 20A dating to the Mid-12th century BCE. This is after the initial subphase of Philistine settlement which was established during Phase 20B. Both vessels were produced and imported from Cyprus, and at the least they represent some exchange between Philistia and Cyprus in material goods.85 Likewise, several rim fragments from imported Egyptian ovoid or globular storage jars were uncovered in the early Philistine contexts.86 This too is likely an indication of some continued exchange with Egypt in Philistia as no examples of these types of storage jar were found in the LBA levels at Ashkelon. This indicates that they were likely imported rather than being residual from the LBA.87 Trade with the north was also still in vague at Ashkelon after 1200 BCE as petrographic analysis of the Canaanite jars uncovered in Phase 20 has demonstrated that vessels were imported from Byblos, Sidon or Tyre, and as far north as the Akkar Plain.88 Therefore, at Ashkelon, there is ample evidence of the continuation of trade after 1200 BCE. When taken together, what is clear from the archaeological evidence is that while some forms of exchange may have ceased during the 13th century BCE in the southern Levant, others continued into the Iron I seemingly uninhibited by destruction or any of the other changes and transitions taking place ca. 1200 BCE.89

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EVIAN 2011; WAIMAN-BARAK/ GILBOA/GOREN 2014; GILBOA 2015. HERRMANN 1994; 2002; 2006; VAN NEER et al. 2004; GILBOA 2015; ROUTLEDGE 2015; MILLEK 2020:225–228. 80 Enstatite is formed when steatite is heated above 900°C increasing the hardness of the material from a 1 on the Mohs scale to a 7 (BAR-YOSEF et al. 2004:496). 81 KEEL/SCHROER 1985; KEEL/KEEL-LEU/SCHROER 1989; KEEL/SHUVAL/UEHLINGER 1990; KEEL 1994. 82 BAR-YOSEF et al. 2004:497; GOLANI 2013:35. 83 THOMPSON 2003; 2009; ESHEL et al. 2019; WOOD/MONTERO-RUIZ/MARTINÓN-TORRES 2019. 84 GOLANI 2013:50–51; MILLEK 2020:243–245. 85 MASTER/MOUNTJOY/MOMMSEN 2015. 86 MARTIN 2008:261. 87 MARTIN 2008:261.268. 88 MASTER 2009. 89 The amount of destruction has largely been over emphasized at the end of the LBA with as much as 40% of all cited destruction events not having occurred at all or have been misdated to fit into the end of the LBA but occurring well before or after ca. 1200 BCE. See MILLEK 2017; 2018; 2019a; 2019b; 2020b; forthcoming. 79

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5. Conclusion Now that all the archeological evidence has been presented, naturally we must ask what all of this data signifies? Why has such an emphasis been placed on the disruptive nature of destruction at the end of the LBA for trade relations when trade between the southern Levant and Cyprus took a major downturn at the end of the 14th century BCE and trade with the Aegean, specifically the Argolid in Greece, seems to have ceased by the mid13th century BCE? Why is it assumed that there was a disruption of the ports of trade by destruction when in fact outside of Ras Shamra no seaports were destroyed at the end of the LBA in the whole of the Levant and Cyprus? In fact, some of these ports even flourished after 1200 BCE. The answer is, of course, multi-faceted but three main factors are likely at play. These are: the type of archaeological evidence for trade which is most visible during the LBA, that is imported pottery; the textual evidence from the LBA and the lack thereof during the Iron I; and the exaggerated estimations of just how much destruction took place at the end of the LBA. The first two points both create a bias against the evidence for trade during the Iron I in the southern Levant and cast a more favorable light on trade in the LBA than in the Iron I, while the third generally places an overemphasis on traumatic upheavals which took place ca. 1200 BCE in spite of the fact that many of these events never occurred. The most prolific and easily identifiable non-local products from the LBA in the southern Levant are Cypriot and Mycenean pottery. Pottery is typically taken as a standin for other forms of archaeologically invisible exchange.90 Thus, the disappearance of these highly visible forms of exchange indicates, it is assumed, that trade in other goods must have also stopped at the same time. This is because too much emphasis has been placed on the highly visible forms of exchange rather than on a holistic approach examining all non-local materials which made their way to the southern Levant during the Iron I. Tin and silver continued to be exchanged during the Iron I and were non-local; yet, quantifying this exchange is difficult as one cannot simply count the number of sherds as one could with pottery. Nevertheless, the continued presence of tin, and the increase in silver demonstrates trade carried on. If tin was actually mined in Europe as one recent study has proposed91 than it likely would have made its way to the southern Levant either through the Aegean or Anatolia. Likewise, if it arrived via modern day Afghanistan or Kazakhstan, tin would have moved through the Northern Levant or south-eastern Anatolia perhaps along with silver from Anatolia. Gold, likely from Egypt, another non-local metal also arrived in the southern Levant during the Iron I92 perhaps traversing the same route through Tel Dor along with Egyptian Amulets, Nile perch and imported Egyptian pottery. There are also a number of precious or semi-precious stones which are non-local, but which continued to be used during the Iron I. There 90

See discussion in MILLEK 2020:116–144 for why this may not have been the case during the LBA as pottery itself could have been the sole cargo of a ship as was the case for the Point Iria Wreck discovered off the coast of Greece. 91 BERGER et al. 2019. 92 Unless one assumes that all Iron I gold objects were recycled from the LBA, a process which would likely explain some of the gold but certainly not all of it.

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is even a seemingly worthless material such as steatite which had to be imported for the production of seals which can be found in the Iron I southern Levant. All of this is to say, that since such an emphasis has been placed on pottery as the mainstay of archaeologically visible trade during the LBA, then naturally, according to this view, the lack of imported pottery during the Iron I indicated the absence of trade. However, this sharp focus on one category of imported material has ignored or minimized the importance of a vast number of other non-local materials which were still being exchanged during the Iron I. Another crucial factor are the textual materials which are prevalent during the LBA but which disappear during the “Dark Age” of the Iron I. Letters between the Great Kings relate at times vast amounts of goods being shipped between countries through “gift exchange” or as a bride price.93 Texts from Ugarit speak of trading ventures such as the merchant Sinaranu who was given a tax exemption on his lands and also on the products he had brought from Crete.94 The relative wealth of textual evidence helps to paint a picture of trade during the LBA from a historical perspective. Thus, when moving into the Iron I, when such textual evidence no longer exists, from a historical perspective, trade does not exist. Much like the focus on imported pottery from the archaeological side, the focus on texts relating to trade during the LBA has placed an overemphasis on their significance when comparing trade during the LBA to that during the Iron I. Naturally one will not find any evidence of trade in the historical records when such records were not being kept. Yet, if one takes the Aegean during the LBA as an example, there is no single Linear B text which ever states that the Myceneans traded with any other group outside of Greece.95 From a historical point of view there was no interregional trade, but from the archaeological view there was with Mycenae products mainly from the Argolid traveling throughout the Eastern Mediterranean while objects and products from the Near East and Egypt were brought to the Aegean.96 Focusing solely on the texts, or rather the lack thereof, provides an inaccurate picture of trade during the LBA in Mycenean Greece. The same can be said for the Iron I in the southern Levant. Focusing on the fact that texts depicting trade do not exist during this time does not imply trade did not occur. This is made clear by a number of non-local materials that were still being imported. The textual evidence does help to elucidate the nature of trade during the LBA.97 That being said, the lack of texts does nothing to say how much trade was or was not being conducted during the Iron I. The third issue is the assumed disruption of trade networks due to destruction. However, as demonstrated above, this disruption by destruction never occurred which naturally leads to the question of from where this assumption originated. It comes from a systematic over-emphasis on the amount of destruction that took place at the end of the LBA throughout the Eastern Mediterranean. This is regardless of region or scholar as false destruction events have creeped into the literature over the past century of research 93

BRYCE 2003a. HELTZER 1978:133. 95 See discussion in MILLEK 2020:123–127. 96 See CLINE 1994; MURRAY 2017. 97 Though this too is not without its cavities and issues. See MILLEK 2020:113–127.257–261. 94

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resulting in a picture of the end of the LBA which is not reflected in the archeological record. This is largely due to three types of false destruction events. They are: destruction events which have been misdated; sites which were assumed destroyed based on theoretical assumptions or insufficient evidence; and many sites which were simply falsely cited as destroyed even though there exists no empirical evidence that the sites were destroyed nor is there a claim of destruction by the excavators. For example, Jaffa was originally assumed to be destroyed by the Sea Peoples, but the date of the final destruction is ca. 1125 BCE98 and had nothing to do with the end of the LBA. Hazor is situated on maps of destruction ca. 1200 BCE99 – however, the destruction of the final Canaanite city took place ca. 1250 BCE well before the end of the LBA.100 For Tel Dor, Stern assumed that the site was destroyed by invading Sea Peoples based on his theoretical leanings; however, as he himself noted, “the Bronze Age stratum of destruction at [Tel Dor] has not yet been reached.”101 Here the theory dictated that a destruction event should be uncovered at Tel Dor even though no physical evidence of an end of the LBA destruction has ever been discovered;102 and yet, it too appears on modern maps of destruction at the end of the LBA.103 In other cases, minimal evidence has been maximally interpreted. Such is the case with the “destruction” of Hala Sultan Tekke mentioned above where a destruction event effecting the whole site was evidenced by one melted lump of silver without any other archaeological evidence indicating that the site was destroyed ca. 1200 BCE. Or many sites have simply been falsely cited as destroyed. As mentioned above, several sites such as Ashkelon, Maroni-Vournes, Alassa Paliotaverna, and Kourion (Episkopi)-Bamboula, all have been cited as destroyed even though the excavators never stated these sites were destroyed ca. 1200 BCE nor is there any archaeological evidence backing the claim that any of these sites were destroyed. This systematic problem has created a vision of the end of the LBA which is not even remotely accurate. Certainly, sites were destroyed at the end of the LBA such as Ras Shamra, Emar, Aphek, Maa Paleokastro, among others; however, the general proportion of destruction was in fact far less than commonly reported.104 Given all this, to have a better understanding of what trade ended and what trade continued post 1200 BCE, there must be a new focus which is not solely fixed on imported pottery and the textual evidence for trade and seeking destruction as the prime factor in the trade which did end. Rather we must adopt a holistic approach to determine what from the existing archaeological record could have been imported105 during the 98

BURKE et al. 2017. DREWS 1993:9, fig. 1; NUR/CLINE 2000:44, fig. 1; KANIEWSKI et al. 2011:2, fig. 1; CLINE 2014:110–111, fig. 10; KANIEWSKI/GUIOT/VAN CAMPO 2015:2, fig. 1. 100 MILLEK 2020a. 101 STERN 2013:5. Emphasis my own. 102 GILBOA et al. 2018:32–35. 103 KANIEWSKI et al. 2011:2, fig. 1. 104 This is not even taking into account that the scale of destruction, that is how much of each site was actually affected by destruction, is also less than is generally claimed in the literature. See MILLEK 2020a. 105 This too only covers interregional exchange and not intraregional exchange another viable and important aspect of trade. 99

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LBA and Iron I106 so that we can construct a more reliable record of the changes and transformations that took place. This type of study must take place on a regional scale rather than site by site to truly determine the scale of change from one period to another or even developments within a region in any given period. After all, trade was not a constant throughout the whole of the LBA. So, with all this said, what we can recognize at this time is that from the available archeological evidence disruptions caused by destruction were not a factor in the apparent break in trade relations between the southern Levant and Cyprus and the Aegean. Trade with Cyprus started to dwindle at the end of the 14th century BCE while trade with the Aegean appears to have come to an end during the mid-13th century BCE. Furthermore, no destruction of ports in the southern Levant nor on Cyprus could have caused a cessation of trade between these two regions. The ports were simply not destroyed, or in the case of Enkomi, it was only partially destroyed, and was quickly rebuilt on an even more elaborate scale than before. For the Aegean, the destructions witnessed at Mycenae and Tiryns during the mid-13th BCE also cannot explain the lack of trade after this point. The cities were rebuilt and from all appearances, they could have traded if they had so chosen to do so. The factors that resulted in the cessation of trade, at least visibly in the archeological record, could range from larger geopolitical motivations or to the simple fact that the products became common place in the southern Levant and lost their luster. However, what is clear is that destruction was not one of those factors.

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106 For example, other than a sample of sites covered in MILLEK 2020:239–248, there are no studies of non-local precious metals in all their forms that have quantified these materials from the LBA to the Iron I. Precious and semi-precious stones have not been analyzed during the LBA or Iron I periods to any significant degree. There also exists a whole host of faunal and floral remains which have not been analyzed either due to the fact that these remains were not collected during excavation or simply because they have not been studied in a holistic fashion across an entire region, rather than by individual sites.

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GEORGIOU, A. (2015), Cyprus during the “Crisis Years” Revisited, in: A. BABBI et al. (eds.), The Mediterranean Mirror: Cultural Contacts in the Mediterranean Sea between 1200 and 750 B.C., Mainz, 129–145. GEORGIOU, A. (2017), Flourishing amidst a ‘Crisis’: The Regional History of the Paphos Polity at the Transition from the 13th to the 12th Centuries BCE, in: P.M. FISCHER/T. BÜRGE (eds.), “Sea Peoples” Up-to-Date: New Research on Transformation in the Eastern Mediterranean in 13th–11th Centuries BCE. Proceedings of the ESF-Workshop held at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna, 3–4 November 2014 (Denkschriften der Gesamtakademie 81), Vienna, 207–228. GILBOA, A. (2015), Dor and Egypt in the Early Iron Age: An Archaeological Perspective of (Part of) the Wenamun Report, Ägypten und Levante/Egypt and the Levant, 247–274. GILBOA, A. et al. (2018), Excavations at Dor: Final report, Volume IIA: Area G. The Late Bronze and Iron Ages. Synthesis, Architecture and Stratigraphy (Qedem Reports 10), Jerusalem. GITIN, S./ MAZAR, A./STERN, E. (eds.) (1998), Mediterranean Peoples in Transition: Thirteenth to Early Tenth Centuries BCE, Jerusalem. GITTLEN, B.M. (1977), Studies in the Late Cypriote Pottery Found in Palestine. PhD Dissertation, University of Pennsylvania. GITTLEN, B.M. (1981), The Cultural and Chronological Implications of Cypro-palestine Trade during the Late Bronze Age, BASOR 241, 49–59. GOLANI, A. (2013), Jewelry from the Iron Age II Levant (OBO.SA 34), Fribourg. GREENER, A. (2015), Late Bronze Age Imported Pottery in the Land of Israel: Between Economy, Society and Symbolism. PhD Dissertation, Bar-Ilan University. GREENER, A. (2016), Analyzing the Late Bronze Age Imported Pottery Distribution in the Southern Levant: Overcoming Methodological Challenges, in: R.A. STUCKY/O. KAELIN/H.P. MATHYS (eds.), Proceedings of the 9th International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, June 9–13, 2014, University of Basel, Volume 3: Reports (ICAANE 9), Wiesbaden, 463–473. HADJISAVVAS, S. (2017), Alassa: Excavations at the Late Bronze Age Sites of Pano Mantilaris and Paliotaverna 1984–2000, Lefkosia. HELTZER, M. (1978), Goods, Prices and the Organization of Trade in Ugarit, Wiesbaden. HERRMANN, C. (1994), Ägyptische Amulette aus Palästina/Israel I. Mit einem Ausblick auf ihre Rezeption durch das Alte Testament (OBO 138), Fribourg/Göttingen. HERRMANN, C. (2002), Ägyptische Amulette aus Palästina/Israel II (OBO 184), Fribourg/Göttingen. HERRMANN, C. (2006), Ägyptische Amulette aus Palästina/Israel III (OBO.SA 26), Fribourg/Göttingen. IACOVOU, M. (2008), Cultural and Political Configurations in Iron Age Cyprus: The Sequel to a Protohistoric Episode, AJA 112(4), 625–657. IACOVOU, M. (2013), Aegean-style Material Culture in Late Cypriot III: Minimal Evidence, Maximal Interpretation, in: A.E. KILLEBREW/G. LEHMANN (eds.), The Philistines and Other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology (SBL – ABS 15), Atlanta, 585–618. IACOVOU, M. (2013a), Historically Elusive and Internally Fragile Island Polities: The Intricacies of Cyprus’s Political Geography in the Iron Age, BASOR 370, 15–47. IACOVOU, M. (2014), Art. “Cyprus During the Iron Age I Period (Late Cypriot IIC–IIIA): Settlement Pattern Crisis (LC IIC–IIIA) to the Restructuring (LC IIIB) of Its Settlement Pattern”, in: M.L. STEINER/A.E. KILLEBREW (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of the Levant c.8000– 332 BCE., Oxford, 660–674. IAKOVIDIS, S.E. (1986), Destruction Horizons at Late Bronze Age Mycenae, in: Φίλια Έπη εις Γεώργιον Μυλωνάν διά τα 60 έτη του ανασκαφικού του έργου, Vol. 1, Athens, 233–260. IAKOVIDIS, S.E. (1993), The Impact of Trade Disruption on the Mycenaean Economy in the 13th–12th Centuries B.C.E., in: A. BIRAN/J. AVIRAM (eds.), Biblical Archaeology Today, 1990: Proceedings of the Second International Congress on Biblical Archaeology, Jerusalem, June–July 1990, Jerusalem, 314–320.

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KANIEWSKI, D./GUIOT, J./VAN CAMPO, E. (2015), Drought and Societal Collapse 3200 Years Ago in the Eastern Mediterranean: A Review, Wiley Interdisciplinary Reviews: Climate Change 6(4), 369– 382. KANIEWSKI, D. et al. (2011), The Sea Peoples, from Cuneiform Tablets to Carbon Dating, PLoS ONE 6(6) https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0020232 (accessed August 2020). KARAGEORGHIS, V./DEMAS, M. (1985), Excavations at Kition, Vol. 5: The Pre-Phoenician Levels, Nicosia. KARAGEORGHIS, V./DEMAS, M. (1988), Excavations at Maa-Palaeokastro 1979–1986, Nicosia. KEEL, O. (1994), Studien zu den Stempelsiegeln aus Palästina/Israel, Vol. IV (OBO 135), Fribourg/Göttingen. KEEL, O./KEEL-LEU, H./SCHROER, S. (1989), Studien zu den Stempelsiegeln aus Palästina/Israel, Vol. II (OBO 88), Fribourg /Göttingen. KEEL, O./SCHROER, S. (1985), Studien zu den Stempelsiegeln aus Palästina/Israel, Vol. I (OBO 67), Fribourg/Göttingen. KEEL, O./SHUVAL, M./UEHLINGER , C. (1990), Studien zu den Stempelsiegeln aus Palästina/Israel, Vol. III: Die Frühe Eisenzeit, Ein Workshop (OBO 100), Fribourg/Göttingen. KESWANI, P. (2016), Fragmentary Pithoi, in: C. VON RÜDEN et al. (eds.), Feasting, Crafting and Depositional Practice in Late Bronze Age Palaepaphos: The Well Fillings of Evreti (Bochumer Forschungen zur ur- und frühgeschichtlichen Archäologie 8), Rahden, 217–234. KNAPP, A.B. (1991), Spice, Drugs, Grain and Grog: Organic Goods in Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean Trade, in: N. GALE (eds.), Bronze Age Trade in the Mediterranean, Goteborg, 21–68. KNAPP, A.B. (1993), Thalassocracies in Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean Trade: Making and Breaking a Myth, World Archaeology 24(3), 332–347. KNAPP, A.B. (1997), The Archaeology of Late Bronze Age Cypriot Society: The Study of Settlement, Survey and Landscape, Glasgow. KNAPP, A.B./CHERRY, J.F. (1994), Provenience Studies and Bronze Age Cyprus: Production, Exchange and Politico-Economic Change (Monographs in World Archaeology 21), Madison. KNAPP, A.B./MANNING, S.W. (2016), Crisis in Context: The End of the Late Bronze Age in the Eastern Mediterranean, AJA 120(1), 99–149. LEONARD, A. (1994), An Index to Late Bronze Age Aegean Pottery from Syria-Palestine (SIMA 114), Jonsered. MAIER, F.G. (1969), Excavations at Kouklia (Palaepaphos). Third Preliminary Report: Season 1968, Report of the Department of Antiquities Cyprus, 33–42. MAIER, F.G./KARAGEORGHIS, V. (1984), Paphos: History and Archaeology, Nicosia. MAIER, F.G./VON WARTBURG, M.L. (1985), Reconstructing History from the Earth, c. 2800 B.C. – 1600 A.D.: Excavating at Palaepaphos, 1966–1984, in: V. KARAGEORGHIS (ed.), Archaeology in Cyprus 1960–1985, Nicosia, 142–172. MARAN, J. (2010), Art. “Tiryns”, in: E.H. CLINE (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean, Oxford, 722–734. MARTIN, M.A.S. (2008), Egyptians at Ashkelon?: An Assemblage of Egyptian and Egyptian-Style Pottery, Ägypten und Levante/Egypt and the Levant 18, 245–274. MASTER, D.M. (2009), The Renewal of Trade at Iron Age I Ashkelon, in: ErIs 28 (Ephraim Stern Volume), Jerusalem, 111–122. MASTER, D.M./MOUNTJOY, P.A./MOMMSEN, H. (2015), Imported Cypriot Pottery in Twelfth-Century BC Ashkelon, BASOR 373, 235–243. MILLEK, J.M. (2017), “Sea Peoples, Philistines, and the Destruction of Cities: A Critical Examination of Destruction Layers ‘Caused’ by the ‘Sea Peoples’ in: P.M. FISCHER/T. BÜRGE (eds.), “Sea Peoples” Up-to-Date: New Research on Transformation in the Eastern Mediterranean in 13th–11th Centuries BCE. Proceedings of the ESF-Workshop held at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna, 3–4 November 2014 (Denkschriften der Gesamtakademie 81), Vienna, 113–140.

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MILLEK, J.M. (2018), Destruction and the Fall of Egyptian Hegemony over the Southern Levant, Journal of Ancient Egyptian Interconnections 19, 1–21. MILLEK, J.M. (2019), Crisis, Destruction, and the End of the Late Bronze Age in Jordan: A Preliminary Survey, ZDPV 135(2), 119–142. MILLEK, J.M. (2019a), Destruction at the End of the Late Bronze Age in Syria: A Reassessment, Studia Eblaitica 5, 157–190. MILLEK, J.M. (2020), Exchange, Destruction, and a Transitioning Society: Interregional Exchange in the Southern Levant from the Late Bronze Age to the Iron I (Ressourcenkulturen 9), Tübingen. MILLEK, J.M. (2020a), Just How Much was Destroyed?: The End of the Late Bronze Age in the Southern Levant, UF 49, 239–274. MILLEK, J.M. (forthcoming), Just What did They Destroy?: The Sea Peoples and the End of the Late Bronze Age, in: J. KAMLAH/A. LICHTENBERGER (eds.), Palästina und das Mittelmeer (Tentative title) (ADPV), Wiesbaden. MONROE, C.M. (2009), Scales of Fate. Trade, Tradition, and Transformation in the Eastern Mediterranean ca. 1350–1175 BCE (AOAT 357), Münster. MURRAY, S. (2017), The Collapse of the Mycenaean Economy: Imports, Trade, and Institutions, 1300– 700 BCE. Cambridge. NÚÑEZ, F.J. (2018), The Impact of the Sea Peoples in Central Levant. A Revision, in: Ł. NIESIOŁOWSKI-SPANÒ/M. WĘCOWSKI (eds.), Change, Continuity, and Connectivity. North-Eastern Mediterranean at the Turn of the Bronze Age and in the Early Iron Age (Philippika 118), Wiesbaden, 116–140. NUR, A./CLINE, E.H. (2000), Poseidon’s Horses: Plate Tectonics and Earthquake Storms in the Late Bronze Age Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean, Journal of Archaeological Science 27(1), 43–63. PALERMO, J. (2018), The Impact of Iron Technology on the Economy of the Aegean and Cyprus from 1200–850 BCE. PhD Dissertation, University of Oxford. PAPADIMITRIOU, N. (2013), Regional or ‘International’ Networks?: A Comparative Examination of Aegean and Cypriot Imported Pottery in the Eastern Mediteterranean, in: A. PAPADOPOULOS (ed.), Recent research and perspectives on the Late Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean (Talanta 46), Amsterdam, 92–136. PAPADIMITRIOU, N. (2015), Aegean and Cypriot Ceramic Trade Overseas during the 2nd Millennium BCE, in: J. MYNÁŘOVÁ/P. ONDERKA/P. PAVÚK (eds.), There and Back again – the Crossroads II: Proceedings of an International Conference Held in Prague, September 15–18, 2014, Prague, 423– 446. PICKLES, S./PELTENBURG, E. (1998), Metallurgy, Society and the Bronze/Iron Transition in the East Mediterranean and the Near East, Report of the Department of Antiquities Cyprus, 67–100. ROUTLEDGE, B. (2015), A Fishy Business: The Inland Trade in Nile Perch. (Lates niloticus) in the Early Iron Age Levant, in: T.P. HARRISON/E.B. BANNING/S. KLASSEN (eds.), Walls of the Prince: Egyptian Interactions with Southwest Asia in Antiquity (CHANE 77), Leiden, 212–233. SADER, H. (2014), Art. “The Northern Levant during the Iron Age I Period”, in: M.L. STEINER/A.E. KILLEBREW (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of the Levant c.8000–332 BCE, Oxford, 307–623. SINGER, I. (1999), A Political History of Ugarit, in: W.G.E. WATSON/N. WYATT (eds.), Handbook of Ugaritic Studies (HdO I:39), Leiden, 603–733. STERN, E. (2013), The Material Culture of the Northern Sea Peoples in Israel, Winona Lake. STEVANOVIĆ, M. (1997), The Age of Clay: The Social Dynamics of House Destruction, Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 16(4), 334–395. STOCKHAMMER, P.W. (2013), Entangled Pottery: Phenomena of Appropriation in the Late Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean, in: J. MARAN/P.W. STOCKHAMMER (eds.), Materiality and Social Practice: Transformative Capacities of Intercultural Encounters, Oxford, 89–103. STOCKHAMMER, P.W. (2017), How Aegean is Philistine Pottery?: The Use of Aegean-type Pottery in the Early 12th Century BCE Southern Levant, in: P.M. FISCHER/T. BÜRGE (eds.), “Sea Peoples”

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Expansion Policy of the Davidic Dynasty Judah from the Late 10th to the Early 6th Centuries BCE Hermann Michael Niemann∗ 1. Introduction Discussions of the extent of Jerusalem’s control over the surrounding regions run the risk of using anachronistic categories of borders. Though they were not marked out on the ground with series of boundary stones, borders did exist and modern nomads and Bedouins know exactly how far their traditional territory stretches. Nevertheless, it is more appropriate to understand territorial control as the establishment and maintenance of diffuse spheres of influence overlapping with the sphere of influence of other entities and fluctuating constantly, all the more so in sparsely inhabited areas.1 The Shephelah is a parade case for the instability of spheres of influence.2 The Shephelah has been designated as a middle ground, a third space, a region with bi-directional cultic influences subject to intense intercultural contacts producing nested identities.3 The Shephelah is thus an area of shifting borders,4 in particular the “Sorek Seesaw”5 and other border cities.6 The concept of “frontier” has been proposed besides that of “boundary” and “border.” R. Tappy7 defines a boundary as a line that encompasses a region where the majority shares certain symbols and a border as a kind of frame enclosing a specific area. In this sense, boundary and border would encompass the frontier of the unit concerned, its space and range of influence.8 Clear-cut identities such as “Canaanite” and “Israelite” or “Judahite” and “Philistine” are too rigid to do justice to the cultural makeup of regions where multiple spheres of influence overlapped.9 With these ∗ This is a revised, corrected and updated version of a 2019 paper in German. My thanks to Philippe Guillaume, who discussed the text with me, contributed important suggestions and, together with George Mills, improved my English. I am also grateful to Aren M. Maeir for several substantial references. 1 NAʾAMAN 2011:46; KLETTER 1999. 2 NIEMANN 2002; 2013. 3 MAEIR 2017:137–138.143; KOCH 2017. 4 SHAI et al. 2011. 5 BUNIMOVITZ/LEDERMAN 2017. 6 ORTIZ/WOLFF 2017:61–102. 7 TAPPY 2017. 8 See also WEISSENRIEDER 2016. 9 NIEMANN 2002; 2013; MAEIR 2019.

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caveats in mind, I attempt to place the ebb and flow of the political and cultural influence of Jerusalem on a temporal continuum from the rise of the Davidic dynasty to the fall of the kingdom in the Neo-Babylonian era.

2. The Extent of Jerusalem’s Sphere of Influence at the End of the Late Bronze Age In the second millennium BCE, Palestinian highlands were sparsely inhabited. The main centers were Shechem in the north, Jerusalem in the center10 and Hebron in the south during the Middle Bronze Age; it appears that Hebron was a (fortified) city during the Late Bronze Age11 as was Debir in the Late Bronze Age.12 Bethel just north of Jerusalem could have been an independent city-state,13 but too insignificant to be mentioned in the el-Amarna letters. To which extent Bethel “belonged” to Jerusalem or was “part of” Jerusalem’s territory14 is impossible to decide. Jerusalem itself was a small mountain village throughout the Late Bronze Age, with only a few hundred inhabitants.15 With such modest demographic levels, the notion of “territorial control” loses much substance. If the “city” of Jerusalem was a small mountain village, its territory hardly needed to reach as far north as Bethel.16 Depending on what the terms “territory” and “influence” imply, Jerusalem’s southern influence could have reached Beth-Zur (north of Hebron). I. Finkelstein17 postulates that, to the west, Jerusalem’s influence reached Qeilah (ca. 28 km due south-west from Jerusalem), where it met the territories of the two Late Bronze Age city-states of Gezer and Gath. With a territory of 1,150 sq. km, Gezer controlled the area between the hill country and the coast.18 According to the el-Amarna letters, Beth-Shemesh, Aialon and Zorah (EA 273) belonged to Gezer19 but Qeilah belonged to Gath.20 These two powerful neighbors effectively blocked Jerusalem’s western expansion throughout the Bronze Age.21 Nevertheless, Amarna letters EA 285–291; 280; 366 and possibly 335 document the attempt by Jerusalem’s ruler, Abdi-Ḫepa, to take Qilti (Qeilah) and other places through bribery.22 The attempt failed and led to

10

FINKELSTEIN/SILBERMAN 2006. CHADWICK 2019. 12 NAʾAMAN 2005; 2011:46. 13 NAʾAMAN 2005. 14 FINKELSTEIN 1996:229. 15 NAʾAMAN 2005; 2011; FINKELSTEIN 1996; FINKELSTEIN/SILBERMAN 2006a:262–263; GEVA 2014; BIEBERSTEIN 2017. 16 NAʾAMAN 2005:187; 2011:46. 17 FINKELSTEIN 1996:226; 2013:139.145. 18 FINKELSTEIN 1996:233–234; NAʾAMAN 2011:45–47. 19 NAʾAMAN 2011:45; FINKELSTEIN 1996:230. 20 NAʾAMAN 2011:42–45. 21 NAʾAMAN 2005:187; 2011:46–47. 22 NAʾAMAN 2005:190–191; 2011:41–42; see 1 Sam 23. 11

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Jerusalem’s loss of Bīt-dNIN.URTA (Bet-Horon?) in the north-west of its area of influence.23 Jerusalem’s eastern influence could have reached Jericho and the Jordan river.24 Overall, Jerusalem’s territory would have covered 2,400 sq. km with only eight settlements amounting to under eight ha of built-up area, compared with Gath’s territory of 650 sq. km with 28 settlements amounting to 63 ha of built-up area. Gath was the most densely populated city-state in Late Bronze Age Canaan.25 Gezer covered 1,150 sq. km with 35 settlements and 36 ha of built-up area.26 The question now is whether or not David and his successors were more successful than Abdi-Ḫepa in extending their sphere of influence.

3. Jerusalem and Its Surroundings in the 10th–9th Centuries BCE In the tenth century BCE, Jerusalem covered little more than the area that is now the Temple Mount surrounded by a few residential buildings on the southeastern hill and the Gihon spring area, which had been fortified since the Middle Bronze Age.27 The Rephaim Plain and the Moẓa area28 were the only areas fit for grain production in Jerusalem’s vicinity.29 Naturally, Jerusalem would look with envy at the nearby GibeonBethel plateau30 if it needed more grain for its own population or for trade if there were a demand for it. In either case, biblical texts emphasize the close relationship between Jerusalem and Benjamin (Josh 15:8; 18:16.28; Judg 1:21) as the steppes east and southeast of Jerusalem towards the Dead Sea were only fit for seasonal pasture. It was only in the Iron Age IIB that estates became established there, notably at Khirbet Abu etTwēn.31 Jerusalem’s surrounding hinterland radiated about five to eight km, up to Tell el-Ful in the north, Khirbet el-Burj in the west, Manahat and Ramat Rahel in the south and Khirbet Deir es-Sidd, Ras el-Kharrubeh and Anata in the north-east on the edge of the desert.32 The relationship of Jerusalem with Moẓa a mere, seven km to the northwest of Jerusalem is a major issue.

23

EA 290, l. 14–18; NAʾAMAN 2011:43–44; FINKELSTEIN 1996:234–235. NAʾAMAN 2005:187; 2011:47. 25 FINKELSTEIN 1996:232–233. On Gath in the Late Bronze Age see MAEIR et al. 2019. 26 FINKELSTEIN 1996:246, table 1.255, map 2 27 BIEBERSTEIN 2017:42–59; FINKELSTEIN 2018; MAZAR 2020. 28 MOYAL/FAUST 2015. 29 NIEMANN 2000:62, n. 4. 30 FINKELSTEIN 2013:38–41. 31 NIEMANN 1993:127–128.159–161.168. 32 MOYAL/FAUST 2015:285; FINKELSTEIN/GADOT 2015; SAPIR-HEN/GADOT/FINKELSTEIN 2016. 24

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3.1 Moẓa Was Moẓa subject to Jerusalem or was its agricultural potential sufficient to ensure some level of independence? The temple found in Moẓa, built in the second half of the ninth century at the latest was probably active until about 600 BCE33 indicates that Moẓa had the potential of being an independent site. Complete with courtyard, podium, altar and figurines,34 the Moẓa temple is almost as wide as the Jerusalem temple, but its full length is still subject to excavation (see the following table). Overall, it was perhaps at least two thirds (if not more) the size of the Jerusalem temple. The excavations are not yet complete. Moẓa Temple

Jerusalem Temple

Cf. KISILEVITZ 2015:150

Cf. WEIPPERT 1988:461–463; 1 Kgs 6; 7:13–22 (without walls); 2 Chr 3; Ez 40:48–41:15 (including walls) Short cubits: 44.00–45.00 cm; royal cubits 52.50 cm.

Length

18.30 m (excavated so far!) Without walls: 60 short cubits = 26.40 or 27.00 m Without walls: 60 royal cubits = 31.50 m Including walls: 72 short cubits = 31.68 or 32.40 m Including walls: 72 royal cubits = 37.80 m

Width

7.00–7.50 m (inner width) 13.00 m (including walls)

Without walls: 20 short cubits = 8.80 or 9.00 m Without walls: 20 royal cubits = 10.50 m Including walls: 32 short cubits = 14.08 or 14.40 m Including walls: 32 royal cubits = 16.80 m

While waiting for more data from the ongoing Moẓa excavations, the comparison with the size of the Biblical House of the Lord at Jerusalem raised major questions. Do the measurements provided in 1 Kgs 7 reflect the size of a real temple in Jerusalem? If so, when was that temple erected? What were its connections with the temple at Moẓa only seven km away in a more fertile area? Was the temple of Jerusalem described in the Bible only a modest royal chapel, or was the much larger House of the Forest of Lebanon a temple rather than one hall within the palace35? Whatever the answers, it is clear that Moẓa could boast of a long history.36 The northern flank of Nahal Soreq and the confluence of Nahal Moẓa and Nahal Soreq37 were continuously populated from the early PPNB to the Ottoman periods, including the Iron Age I and IIA (tenth–ninth centuries BCE) that yielded finds from a rich material culture.

33

KISILEVITZ 2015. KISILEVITZ 2016; KISILEVITZ/LIPSCHITS 2020. 35 GUILLAUME/HELLANDER 2019. 36 GREENHUT et al. 2008. 37 On the Soreq valley, see GADOT et al. 2015; PORAT et al. 2019. 34

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3.2 Rephaim Plain The Rephaim Plain38 southwest of Jerusalem had been settled since the Early Bronze Age II with a gap in the transition between the Middle Bronze Age I and II. It was a prosperous agricultural region in the Iron IIB with large buildings.39 The site of Manahat, approximately five km southwest of Jerusalem, had been settled since Chalcolithic times and continually inhabited throughout the Middle and Late Bronze Ages and in Roman times.40 The northern part of the valley of Rephaim is mentioned in Josh 15:8 as one point marking the limit between Judah and Benjamin. This point offered a convenient access to Jerusalem from the south-west for merchants as well as attackers who gathered at the confluence of the Nahal Moẓa and Nahal Soreq (2 Sam 5:22), and which David repelled (2 Sam 5:25). While David’s struggle with some vague Philistines in 2 Sam 5 is historically doubtful,41 its setting in the Rephaim Valley underlines unwittingly how limited Jerusalem’s natural territory was. Beyond the valley, Jerusalem’s sphere of influence was contested by its western and Benjaminite neighbors as these conflicts may actually recall the times when David was still fighting under the orders of King Saul.42 After David established his rule in Jerusalem, no more clashes between the Philistines and David are mentioned in the Bible. This is no accident. David and the Philistines knew each other. Indeed, there appears to have been a modus vivendi between David and his former “feudal lords.” 3.3 Ramat Rahel Ramat Rahel (Stratum VB, from the end of the eighth to the first half of the seventh century BCE) was built in the time of Manasseh and converted into a significant administrative center with a palace and courtyards in Stratum VA from approximately 625 BCE. It was not destroyed in 586 and stayed in use up to the fourth century. Ramat Rahel was a royal estate, administrative headquarters, and a wine production center.43 The larger Jerusalem grew the more it became economically dependent upon its surroundings, the Gibeon-Bethel Plateau, the Benjamin region, the Rephaim Plain, Moẓa, and Manahat for its grain.

4. Northern Extension of Jerusalem’s Sphere of Influence During the Reigns of David and Solomon? David was a clansman of the Ephrat(a) north of Jerusalem.44 The extent of his rule corresponded closely to that of Jerusalem in the Late Bronze and Early Iron I, besides the 38

GADOT 2015. EISENBERG 1988–1990; 1993. 40 EDELSTEIN/MILEVSKY/AURANT 1998; EDELSTEIN 1993. 41 NIEMANN 2002; 2013. 42 NIEMANN 1997:268–269, with n. 38; KYLE MCCARTER JR. 1984:495. 43 LIPSCHITS et al. 2016; LIPSCHITS et al. 2017. 44 NIEMANN 2016; 2019; FLEMING 2012; LEONARD-FLECKMAN 2016. 39

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Ephratite, Benjaminite or Saulide areas that David had added to Jerusalem’s territory. David tried to merge Jerusalem – that he had taken over as Saul’s legacy rather than conquered – into the territory of his Ephratite clan. Then, Solomon the true Jerusalemite45 and Rehoboam claimed the Ephratite clan’s territory and the Benjaminite region for Jerusalem, though with little success (1 Kgs 12). The so-called Great Wall in Mizpa/Tell en-Nasbeh may possibly evidence an expansion of Jerusalem’s rule northward in the early ninth century.46 But how far north Jerusalem’s new hinterland encroached Benjamin’s south is a disputed matter.47 What is clear, however, is that the biblical report on the war between king Asa and the Israelite Baasha48 openly admits to the help received from the Aramaeans, bribed with treasures from the Jerusalem temple (1 Kgs 15:18–21 // 2 Chr 16:2–5). Without the help of the Aramaeans, Asa could not indeed have expanded Jerusalem’s control to the north. Nevertheless, after that war, Benjamin remained beyond Jerusalem’s reach until the seventh century when Jerusalem was able to control it and compensate for the loss of the Shephelah.49

5. When Did Jerusalem Expand to the South? The land to the south of Jerusalem and up to the Beersheba basin is of little agricultural interest and is not an attractive pasturing area either.50 With rain levels between 300 and 500 mm and little good soil, the land has limited potential for the production of agricultural surpluses.51 It nevertheless opened up more to Jerusalem’s rule once the situation in the north was stabilized. Before 701 BCE, the Judahite highlands south of Jerusalem counted some 80 settlements. Including the Hebron Mountains, an increase to just over 120 settlements can be observed as the high point of the Iron Age IIB settlement (midseventh century) with double the population.52 Hazael’s destruction of Gath (between 840 and 830 BCE53) probably allowed King Joash (840–801 BCE) to extend his rule into the Shephelah as well as into the Negev where border fortifications were erected.54 This southern expansion secured for Jerusalem a share in the Arabian trade through Kuntillet ꜤAǧrud55 besides Aram and Israel. Consequently, the mountainous region of Judah, being spared the fate Israel met between 734 and 720 BCE, prospered under the umbrella of the Assyrian empire.56 This 45

VEIJOLA 1979. FINKELSTEIN 2012; 2018:194. 47 SCHUNCK 1963:169; FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER 2019; NIEMANN 2019. 48 FINKELSTEIN/KLEIMAN 2019; SERGI 2013; 2017, but cf. FINKELSTEIN 2018. 49 LIPSCHITS 2019:30–31. 50 NAʾAMAN 2005:182–185; 2011. 51 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:148–151. 52 FINKELSTEIN 2015:201; 2016b:3–4. 53 MAEIR 2012:47–49. 54 Tell Arad XI, Tell Beersheva V, Tell ꜤIra VIII: SERGI 2013:229–230; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:89. 55 BECK 1982; MESHEL 2012. 56 LIPSCHITS 2019:20–21. 46

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translated into further expansion into the Negev (Beersheba and Arad valleys) as well as along the Dead Sea, with much development in Jerusalem itself.57 From the “noncentralized, kinship-based” polity it still was in the eighth century BCE58 the kingdom of Jerusalem developed a more centralized administration at the beginning of the seventh century BCE, at the latest. Jerusalem’s royal administration introduced a new system of marked shekel weights which, together with the use of a standardized ceramic repertoire, enabled mass-production in a single production center for widespread distribution.59 Yet, the Beersheba Valley may have slipped out of control of the Davidides in the early seventh century BCE because only four late type of lmlk stamps and only two stamps with concentric circles have been found so far in Arad, suggesting a weakening of Jerusalem’s influence over that area. If the late seventh century fortress at Tel ꜤIra60 was indeed built or upkept by Jerusalem, it would indicate a renewed extension of Jerusalem’s sphere of influence. Further south, Judeans also served in forts along trade routes at En Hatzeva (Stratum 5)61 and Kadesh Barnea.62 The Arad Ostraca63 may suggest that Jerusalem maintained its influence thus far south until the Assyrian withdrawal from the region (ca. 630–625 BCE). The reign of Manasseh (696–642 BCE) has been portrayed as a phase of recovery and consolidation for Judah.64 The exploitation of agricultural opportunities in the Beersheva and Arad valleys and the western edge of the Dead Sea would have compensated for the loss of the Shephelah and contributed to the integration of Judah in the Assyrian provincial system.65 Finkelstein’s notion of a thriving Judahite kingdom in the seventh century66 is based on developments at Tell en-Nasbeh, Gibeon, Ramat Rahel and Jerusalem itself and relies on the interpretation of ceramics between the second half of the eighth and the early sixth century BCE, too great a time-span to distinguish the reign of Hezekiah (725–696 BCE) from Manasseh’s (696–642 BCE) and thus to identify the consequences of the 701 BCE crisis for Jerusalem in the archaeological record.67 Manasseh’s reign can certainly be understood as “crisis management” but how meaningful a recovery ensued is difficult to estimate; signs of resettlement in the Shephelah after the passage of Sennacherib are so far modest, according to Lehmann. Nevertheless, recent finds at Tel Beth-Shemesh, in the salvage excavations to the east of the mound, show a thriving early seventh century Judahite site.68 The affiliation of Beth-Shemesh, Tel ʿEton and Tell Bet Mirsim with Jerusalem is a matter of interpretation, these sites 57

FAUST/WEISS 2011; LIPSCHITS 2019:15. NIEMANN 1993; MAEIR/SHAI 2016; LIPSCHITS 2019:23. 59 LIPSCHITS 2019:23–26. 60 Stratum VI; BEIT-ARIEH 1993; BEIT-ARIEH 1999. 61 COHEN 1993. 62 FINKELSTEIN 2010. 63 AHARONI 1981; FINKELSTEIN 2016a:4. 64 FINKELSTEIN 1994; KNAUF 2005=2013. 65 FAUST/WEISS 2011:190–199. 66 FINKELSTEIN 1994. 67 LEHMANN 2012. 68 This is mostly unpublished, but see LIPSCHITS 2019a; BIBLE LANDS MUSEUM JERUSALEM 2019. I owe the reference to these publications to Aren M. Maeir. 58

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could indeed have been included within Jerusalem’s sphere of influence,69 but what this means in term of taxation, conscription and other revenues for Jerusalem cannot be evaluated. A recovery in the late seventh and early sixth century BCE is clear.70 The demographic center of the Judahite kingdom remained the hills around Jerusalem. The periphery was now more developed than it ever was,71 the region on the west coast of the Dead Sea and Horvat Shilchah near Ramallah. But the situation in the first half of the seventh century (the reign of Manasseh) remains uncertain. In the northern Negev, resettlement started already in the time of Uzziah (773– 756/36 BCE), Jotham (756/36–741 BCE) and Ahaz (741–725 BCE). Beersheba, being with its seven hectares the largest site, was destroyed by Sennacherib, but the northern Negev was more densely resettled than in the eighth century.72 These settlements, however, cannot be reliably dated to the reign of Manasseh, except the modest findings at Tel Halif (Stratum VIA) and Tell Beersheva (Stratum I); the “West Tower” of Tell Bet Mirsim and “Building 32” at Tell es-SebaꜤ would mark the westernmost limit of Manasseh’s kingdom.73 This fits Lipschits’ view74 of the continuation of the lmlk stamps after Hezekiah and their limited distribution in the immediate vicinity of Jerusalem. Manasseh’s long rule would thus have been limited in the south and it was only in the days of Josiah in the second half of the seventh century that Jerusalem would have recovered some control over the Negev.75 The “Judean Inscribed Limestone weights” found mainly in seventh century contexts were a phenomenon of the late Judahite monarchy after Manasseh.76 The “Judean Pillar Figurines” from the eighth century up to 586 BCE were much less widespread in the mountains, the northwest Negev and in the Shephelah (Lachish [Stratum II]; Tell Shech Ahmed al-Areini) than in the eighth century BCE. The difficulty to assign precise enough dates to archaeological finds only allows sketching broad trends.77 Given the uncertainty, one can only assume for the time being a slow and rather modest consolidation of the mountainous region around Jerusalem in the half century of Manasseh’s reign. In the Negev and on both sides of the Dead Sea, Assyrian long-distance trade played a positive role as evidenced by locally made Assyrianizing ceramic types78 as well as Manasseh’s participation as a vassal of Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal integrated in Assyrian building projects and military expeditions.79 Despite his loyalty to Assyria, Manasseh could not compensate for Jerusalem’s loss of influence over the Shephelah and the kingdom’s influence was restricted to the mountainous region around Jerusalem, Ramat Rahel, Gibeon, Mizpah and the southern 69

LEHMANN 2012:296. FAUST 2008. 71 LEHMANN 2012:297: En-Gedi, BuqeiꜤah sites, Vered Jericho; for Qumran in the seventh or sixth century BCE cf. TAYLOR/GIBSON forthcoming. 72 LEHMANN 2012:298. 73 LEHMANN 2012:298–299. 74 LIPSCHITS 2019. 75 LEHMANN 2012:300; LIPSCHITS 2019. 76 LEHMANN 2012:301. 77 LEHMANN 2012:301–302. 78 LEHMANN 2012:304. 79 LEHMANN 2012:303–305; WEIPPERT 2010:338–346. 70

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periphery. Agricultural activity is particularly evident in previously undeveloped regions of the Negev and in the Judahite desert, though these could not replace the economic potential of the Shephelah. At best they stabilized the economic basis of the Jerusalemite dynasty. Manasseh avoided his father’s mistakes and relaxed Hezekiah’s grip over the mountain clans in order to achieve inner peace after the upheavals of the previous decades.80 Strengthening relations with the periphery by marrying Meshullemeth from Jotbah in the far south and choosing a wife from Bozkath in the Shephelah for the crown prince Amon81 helped Manasseh to reverse the so-called “cultic reform” of Hezekiah (2 Kgs 18:3–4). Manasseh may have simply restored local and regional cult centers in the country (2 Chr 33:17) to pacify violence and bloodshed (2 Kgs 21:16) provoked by Hezekiah’s unpopular cult centralization, a political centralization in religious disguise. Manasseh’s blackballing in 2 Kgs 2182 forced the Chronicler to provide an explanation for his long reign (2 Chr 33). Given the situation, Manasseh had little choice but to toe the Assyrian line, which ensured some levels of security and slow recovery in and around Jerusalem.

6. Expansion of the Davidides to the East Faust and Weiss identify an eastern expansion of Jerusalem’s sphere of influence after 701 BCE in the wake of the loss of the Shephelah and also in the context of the Assyrian world economic system.83 Lipschits mentions the establishment of farms on the eastern edge of the Judahite mountains possibly already the eighth century BCE.84 But on the basis of the absence of rosette handles in En-Gedi (Stratum V) and the only three handles with concentric circles retrieved there in unclean loci, he concludes that the Davidic rulers only managed to expand their rule eastward and southward in the late seventh century after the retreat of the Assyrians from the southern Levant. From the end of the eighth century until the beginning of the sixth century BCE, some estates existed in the el-BuqēꜤa plateau85 that can be understood in parallel with a group of buildings south of Jerusalem.86 These buildings would evince the Davidic investment over unclaimed land, together with the erection of protective and storage facilities on the periphery of the realm as compensation for economic areas lost on the western edge of Judah.87

80

KNAUF 2013:261–264. NIEMANN 2006:230–231. 82 STAVRAKOPOULOU 2004. 83 FAUST/WEISS 2011; cf. also FINKELSTEIN 1994:177–178. 84 LIPSCHITS 2019:33; see already NIEMANN 1993:159–162. 85 CROSS 1993; NIEMANN 1993:159–162. 86 MAZAR 1982; NIEMANN 1993:127–130. 87 NIEMANN 1993:162. 81

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7. Jerusalem’s Western Expansion Western expansion was always more economically interesting than towards the Beersheba basin. The agricultural potential of the Shephelah and of the coastal plain is much higher than any area south of Jerusalem.88 The Shephelah comprises a built-up area of approximately 17 ha in the Iron Age I with a population of ca. 2,500–3,000 people and 60 ha at the end of Iron IIA with approximately 9,000–18,000 people.89 During this period, it was characterized by independent village communities such as those found in the Greek mainland90 because there are only a few signs of a centralized polity in these settlements. They formed kinship groups with chiefdom structures.91 Nevertheless, Ekron92 and then Gath93 exerted in turn the strongest influence in the region in the tenth and early ninth century BCE and thus left little room for Jerusalem there.94 The Bible reports no activities for Saul, David or Solomon in the Shephelah beyond the Elah Valley. In fact, the Shephelah represents a distinct area from the mountains and the coastal plain, an area with its own character.95 Pharaonic and Aramean intrusions in the area brought in major changes. The case of Khirbet Qeiyafa in the Iron Age I/IIA is a case in point.96 In my opinion, Qeiyafa was destroyed in the wake of a dispute with Gath.97 The fall of Qeiyafa can be a structural parallel to the events in 1 Sam 23:1–13. The residents of Qeilah would have enrolled David’s band against Gath. Having thus overthrown Gath’s yoke, the residents of Qeilah resisted David’s attempt to take control of their site.98 Contrary to Qeilah, Qeiyafa may not have had any ally to protect itself against Gath. Another indirect hint to the lack of Jerusalem’s western influence is found in 1 Kgs 15:27; 16:15–17 where Israelite kings Nadab ben Jeroboam (907–906 BCE) and Zimri (882 BCE) attacked the Philistines in Gibbethon (Ras Abu Hamid?). Gibbethon was a border town between the Philistines and Israel. It is strategically located on an eastern junction of the Via Maris. Such an attack towards the coastal plain was not possible for the Jerusalem rulers.99 At the end of the tenth and beginning of the ninth century BCE, Jerusalem’s advances towards the coast were limited by Israel’s own advances in the area.

88

LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:84. LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:85. 90 KIRSTEN 1956: “Dorf-Staaten”. 91 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:85. 92 Evidence of elite structures of both the Iron I and Iron II–III are reported, for example in DOTHAN/GARFINKEL/GITIN 2016. 93 Recent excavations show that Gath was large and prosperous already in the Iron Age IB, cf. MAEIR 2017a. 94 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:85–86. 95 NIEMANN 2002; 2013. 96 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:78.86. 97 NIEMANN 2017. 98 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:86. 99 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:87–88. 89

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After 800 BCE, however, the material culture of the Shephelah becomes similar to that in the mountainous region of Judah.100 The similarity can be viewed as the clue of Judah’s successful expansion in the Shephelah at the expense of Gath.101 The mention of Gath in Mic 1:10 would also reflect this phenomenon. Or, the similarity of material culture could be taken as the growing influence of the Shephelah over the Judahite highland, though of course this would imply a complete reversal of biblically inspired historical thinking. In any case, the homogenizing of the material culture happened in connection and with the backing or the agreement of the kingdom of Israel at the peak of its power (Joash and Jeroboam II [802–747 BCE]), which was at the time the main regional power. Libnah (Tel Burna) seems to mark the furthest extent of Jerusalem’s western sphere of influence in the eighth and seventh centuries BCE. The greater similarity of the ceramics of Libnah with that of Lachish Stratum V–IV than with the ceramics from Gath A3 and the dearth of Philistine ceramics (LPDW) suggests that Libnah belonged to Judah as much as to Lachish, Jerusalem’s westernmost fortress.102 The names on jar handles found in Azekah and Gezer point to a family-based network. On the basis of 2 Kgs 8:22 // 2 Chr 21:10, it is possible to argue that Libnah was an independent settlement, but Jerusalem’s influence over Libnah occasionally grew in the time of Jehoram (852/47–845 BCE).103 Queen Hamutal, mother of King Jehoahaz and King Zedekiah, came from Libnah,104 which indicates Jerusalem’s continued interest in this site, though it does not imply that the Davidides ruled this sensitive border area directly. Historically, politically and strategically, Jerusalem’s expansion in the Shephelah is hardly conceivable before the rule of the Omrides (882–841 BCE), to whom David’s successors were subservient. The question is, who initiated the fortification of BethShemesh at Nahal Soreq around 850 BCE.105 If it was the Israelite Jehoram (852/47– 845 BCE), there is no compelling evidence for Bunimovitz and Lederman’s claim106 that the site was one of David’s administrative centers already ca. 950 BC (Stratum IIa) and remained in the Judahite orbit until the destruction of Level 3 (first half of the eighth century BCE) in the wake of the dispute between Jehoash of Israel and Amaziah of Judah (2 Kgs 14:8–14). According to Bunimovitz and Lederman,107 only after the destruction of Level 2 (Hezekiah period) did Ekron rule over Beth-Shemesh. If it was the Judahite Jehoram, he would have benefited from the active backing of the Omrides through his wife Athaliah. As a single campaign against Edom is reported in the days of Jehoram (2 Kgs 8:16–24), any expansion to the Shephelah and to the south may have occurred later in the days of Joash (840–801 BCE).108 In this case, the western expansion of the Davidides took place in the wake of Hazael’s destruction of Gath between 835 100

FANTALKIN/FINKELSTEIN 2006:24; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:89. MAEIR 2012:55; 2012a; SHAI 2017:57; CHADWICK/MAEIR 2018. 102 SHAI 2017. 103 NIEMANN 1993:115; 2006:231–232; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:88. 104 2 Kgs 23:31; 24:18; NIEMANN 2006:227.231–232. 105 SERGI 2013:29. 106 BUNIMOVITZ/LEDERMAN 2017:31–34. 107 BUNIMOVITZ/LEDERMAN 2017:27–43. 108 SERGI 2013:228–241. 101

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and 832 BCE.109 Weakened by Jehu’s putsch, possibly Israel may have built Lachish IV together with Judah on behalf of Hazael as replacement of the destroyed Gath.110 The close connection of the Davidides with Lachish is illustrated by King Amaziah’s flight to Lachish to escape from a revolt in Jerusalem (2 Kgs 14:19). This event is the first biblical mention of a Judahite connection with the Shephelah. The list of fortresses in 2 Chr 11:5.12 can reflect building activity of the Davidides in the west, especially a western expansion in the eighth century.111 The Davidic Ahaz (741–725 BCE) and Hezekiah (725–697 BCE) may have exploited the turmoil in Israel after Menahem (747–738 BCE) to expand their territory. Lipschits relies on the many lmlk stamps recovered in Beth-Shemesh in the late eighth century BCE and their absence there later on to argue that Nahal Soreq and the Shephelah were controlled by Ekron after 701 BCE.112 When Sennacherib arrived into the region, he directed his attention primarily to the larger towns while smaller settlements survived. Finkelstein reckons there were at least 21 settlements (Iron IIA) in the Shephelah and about 250 in Iron IIB before 701 BCE.113 If Manasseh (696–642 BCE) was able to open up the west again for Judah, it would have been with the consent of the Assyrians.114 Alternatively, Lipschits considers that any new expansion into the Shephelah occurred after Assyria’s retreat during the reign of Josiah. Again, he relies on the numbers and the distribution of stamped handles and his understanding of their relative dates to claim that the Shephelah was beyond Jerusalem’s sphere of influence in the first half of the seventh century. Lipschits doubts that Manasseh had any influence over the Beersheba Valley because only a handful of stamps were found in Arad (early seventh century BCE). Administration from Jerusalem probably only took effect after 630 in the Beersheba Valley.115 Manasseh’s marriage to a woman from Jotba far to the south116 is evidence of a strategic planning for a southern expansion, but not a clear proof of Jerusalem’s control over the entire south. An administrative structure of the type presupposed in the provincial list of Joshua 15 could not arise before the second half of the seventh century BCE.117 Given its sparse population, the Negev would have needed hardly such an administrative apparatus.

8. From Archaeology to the Bible In light of the slow evolution of politico-economic conditions in antiquity, the portrayal of life conditions in biblical texts can be taken as fairly close to situations prevalent in

109

MAEIR 2012:47–49; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:88; SERGI 2013. NIEMANN 2011:332–233; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:89; SERGI 2013:230. 111 NIEMANN 1993:124–127; LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:89. 112 LIPSCHITS 2019. 113 FINKELSTEIN 2015:195. 114 LEHMANN 2012; FINKELSTEIN 2015; 2018:194. 115 LIPSCHITS 2019:32. 116 NIEMANN 2006:230–231. 117 DE VOS 2003; KNAUF 2008:145–147. 110

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the days of David and of his (early) successors in Jerusalem, even though these texts were produced several centuries later (late 9th/8th to 5th century BCE).118 Hence the stories about Saul and David can be used to draw a preliminary sketch of the situation between 990 and 880 BCE.

Fig. 1: David’s campaigns according to 1 Samuel 19–2 Samuel 2 (© Hermann Michael Niemann).

David came from the north, from the clan of Ephrat(a), north of Jerusalem.119 In 1 Sam 19–2 Sam 2,3 he roams across the eastern Shephelah and the southern Judahite highlands. During his first escape from Saul, however, it is in Ramah north of Jerusalem that he finds refuge (1 Sam 19:18–24). As a typical ꜤApiru leader of the Late Bronze and early Iron Age, David operates his band across an ever growing territory: from Benjamin further south and west: Nob (1 Sam 21:2), Gath (1 Sam 21:11), Adullam (1 Sam 22:1), Mizpah in Moab (1 Sam 22:3), the stronghold (1 Sam 22:4–5).120, Jaar-Hereth in Judah 118

SCHNIEDEWIND 2004; CARR 2005; SCHMID 2008; 2019. NIEMANN 2016; 2019. 120 SCHUNCK 1983; 1984. 119

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(1 Sam 22:4–5; see 1 Sam 23:18), out of Judah to Qeilah (1 Sam 23:1–13), into the desert of Siph (1 Sam 23:19–24), the Maon desert (1 Sam 23:25), En-Gedi (1 Sam 24:1), the stronghold (1 Sam 24:23), the Maon desert and Carmel (1 Sam 25:2), the hill called Hachila east of the wasteland in the desert of Siph (1 Sam 26:1), Gath (1 Sam 27:2), the area of the Geshurites, the Girzites, and the Amalekites as far as Shur, to the land of Egypt (1 Sam 27:8). He serves as a mercenary for Gath (27:8–9), in the land of the Philistines (1 Sam 29:11), sits in Ziklag and roams over the land of the Amalekites (1 Sam 30), comes to the Wadi Besor (1 Sam 30:9–10) and once more in Ziklag (1 Sam 27:6; 2 Sam 1:1). Finally, he settles in Hebron (2 Sam 2:1–3). The area thus described covers an impressive territory. However, it is an area that David roamed without establishing any kind of political dominion over it. Apart from general information in 1 Sam 27:8, he had little to do in the Shephelah. His activities take him to three distinct regions, first along the desert steppe on the western edge of the Dead Sea to the northeast Negev with a focus west of the southern half of the Dead Sea (Hachila, En-Gedi, Carmel, Maon and Ziph). This is the most arid of the three regions, the most suitable retreat for an ꜤApiru chief and his band. The second region is the hill country west of the watershed. Qeilah, Adullam and Jaar-Hereth were close to Gath’s sphere of influence and it was only as a vassal of Gath that David could establish a foothold there for himself. Therefore, it was in Hebron, the third region in which David was able to set up his first base after his failure in Qeilah (2 Sam 2:1– 4). It was from there too that Absalom tried to establish himself against his father (2 Sam 15:7–11) by playing on the resentment of his father’s tribal kin (1 Sam 30:26– 31) towards the “city” of Jerusalem. As for Ziklag, it was west of David’s main zone of action on the southern extent of Gath’s sphere of influence, which Gath had assigned to David for border protection (1 Sam 27:5–6). David was not powerful enough to conquer independent settlements on the eastern edge of Shephelah (such as Qeilah) and on the coastal plain. The bulk of the biblical reports about David’s battles with the “Philistines” are probably echoes of struggles of the Saul era.121 As was the case much later in the 18th century CE with Dahir al-Umar, most of David’s achievements did not survive him.122 His first successors had to be content with a smaller power base as they were overshadowed by a powerful Israel immediately to the north of Jerusalem. Therefore, it is unlikely that David and his immediate successors could build for themselves a strong base to the west of Jerusalem before the end of the ninth century.123 Nevertheless, the search for evidence for a more glorious Davidic era continues. A section of a recently discovered city wall from the tenth century BCE at Lachish between Stratum VI and Stratum IV–III in the north-east of the site is attributed to David124 but

121

NIEMANN 1997:267–268; FINKELSTEIN 2013:54–59.104; GRABBE 2016. COHEN 1973; NIEMANN 1997:265–267. 123 NIEMANN 1997 contra HERZOG/SINGER-AVITZ 2004:233. 124 GARFINKEL et al. 2019. 122

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with no supporting evidence. Likewise, nothing in Khirbet el Rai125 and in Khirbet Qeiyafa supports any connection with David or Jerusalem.126 The impetus for the establishment of David’s dynasty did not originate from the west but from the north, the cradle of David’s clan. In the west, any expansion occurred in the shadow of Israel and of Hazael. With this in mind, stories in the books of Kings and Chronicles can be reconsidered.

9. Territorial Growth According to the Book of Kings According to the Book of Kings, there was no king in Edom but a governor; Ahaziah, who represented the interests of Judah as well as the interests of Israel, allied to Jehoshaphat’s Crown Prince Jehoram through his marriage to the Omride princess Athaliah (1 Kgs 22:45.48–50). Jehoshaphat refused Ahaziah’s offer to use ships jointly for long-distance trade. Why Jehoshaphat refused is not stated. Did he want to organize the trade alone? It was the time when Moab broke away from Israel and an alternative southern access to the port of Elath on the western side of the Jordan rift was needed. Later, 2 Kgs 8:20–22 reports that Edom and Libnah broke away from Judah in the days of Jehoram, son of Jehoshaphat (852/47–845 BCE). According to 2 Kgs 14:7, the situation in the south changed in the early eighth century. Amaziah of Jerusalem (801– 773 BCE) defeated the Edomites and took Sela, henceforth called Jokteel. He had apparently regained Elath as well as access to the Red Sea (2 Kgs 14:22). This success led him to misjudge the power of the Nimshides in Israel. The senseless quarrel with Joash (802–787 BCE) ended with Amaziah’s humiliation (2 Kgs 14:8–14). The situation in the south changed again in the middle of the eighth century. According to 2 Kgs 14:22 Azariah/Uzziah of Jerusalem (773–756/36 BCE) brought back Elath to Judah in cooperation with Israel, a fact confirmed by the excavations at Kuntillet ꜤAǧrud. The tide turned again in the last third of the eighth century BCE at the time of Ahaz of Jerusalem (741–725 BCE). Rezin of Aram drove out the Davidides and Israelites from Elath. Meanwhile, chaos reigned in Israel. With the fall of the Nimshides in 747 BCE, one royal murder followed another. Shallum ben Jabesh murdered Zechariah (2 Kgs 15:10); Menahem murdered Shallum (2 Kgs 15:14); Pekah murdered Pekahiah in 736 (2 Kgs 15:25); Hoshea murdered Pekah in 732 BCE (2 Kgs 15:30). In the wake of the chaos, Judah loses Israel’s backing and Elath is taken by the king of Edom for good (2 Kgs 16:6). Once Israel ceased to exist as an independent entity, Jerusalem was free to head west. 2 Kgs 18:8 reports without any context that Hezekiah “smote the Philistines as far as Gaza and its territory.” This note can be an exaggerated allusion to Hezekiah’s capture of King Padi of Ekron.127 Josiah’s move north in the last quarter of the seventh century coincides with the Assyrian retreat in the southern Levant. It is not presented as a military campaign (2 Kgs 23:15) but justified theologically as the destruction of 125

GARFINKEL et al. 2019:702–703. NIEMANN 2017. 127 GRAY 1980:671; WÜRTHWEIN 1984:406–408. 126

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idolatrous Israelite cultic practices. All in all, Jerusalem could only expand its territory when it cooperated with Israel or in rare moments when neither Aram or Assyria were present to interfere.

10. Territorial Growth According to Chronicles 10.1 Tenth Century David’s struggle against the Philistines in the Jerusalem area is presented as a war against foreign people and their gods and the destruction of idols (for example 1 Chr 14:8–17). Topographical etymologies, absurd numbers of warriors and fuzzy geography characterize most battle accounts in Chronicles. In 1 Chr 18:1–17 David defeats the Philistines, Moab, the king of Zoba in Hamath, Hadadezer, the Aramaeans of Damascus, and Abishai ben Zeruiah beats Edom. In 1 Chr 19, David defeats Ammon and its allies and conquers Transjordan and Greater Canaan. In 1 Chr 20:1–4 David defeats Ammon again and the Philistines at Gezer. According to 2 Chr 13:19, Abijah (910–908 BCE) takes Bethel, Jeshana and Ephron from Jeroboam I, most probably a projection of events in the days of the Chronicler.128 2 Chr 14:8–14 describes a miraculous victory over a huge Kushite army in the Shephelah.129 2 Chr 16:1–6 recalls a confrontation north of Jerusalem in a similar way to that in 1 Kgs 15:16–22. None of the events described in Chronicles reflect events in the Iron Age. 10.2 Ninth Century In 2 Chr 20, it is the Lord who uses the Ammonites and Moabites to wipe out the residents of Seir who attacked Judah in the days of Jehoshaphat. It may reflect a Nabataean raid south of Bethlehem around 300 BCE130 or disputes between the province of Yehud and its eastern neighbors as mentioned in Neh 3:33–6:19.131 2 Chr 21:8–11 is a theological development on the secession of Edom and Libnah from Judah in the time of king Jehoram (852/47–845 BCE) in 2 Kgs 8:20–22. 10.3 Eighth Century A shorter version in 2 Kgs 14:7, 2 Chr 25:11–12 mentions a war fought by Amaziah against Edomites/Seirites in the south (es-SelaꜤ132) ending in a mass killing of his enemies. Then Amaziah’s son Azariah/Uzziah dismantles the walls of Gath, Jabneh, and Ashdod (2 Chr 26:6), a possible recall of a successful raid that managed to break into the three cities, as Joash of Israel did in Jerusalem (2 Kgs 14:13 // 2 Chr 25:23).133 This does not mean that these cities were occupied. Azariah/Uzziah also extends his 128

GALLING 1954:110; JAPHET 2003:173–174; WELTEN 1973:122–129. WELTEN 1973:129–140. Cf. also JAPHET 2003:183. 130 GALLING 1954:110. 131 WELTEN 1973:140–153. 132 Cf. KNAUF 1989:108, n. 590. 133 WELTEN 1973:161–162; JAPHET 2003:331. 129

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domination south as far as the entry point into Egypt (2 Chr 26:8–10) and sets up agricultural estates in the Shephelah or in the “Mishor” (= Sharon?) and in (the) Carmel (south of Hebron?). This report is strikingly sober, compared with the Chronicler’s usual writings, which argues in favor of its credibility. Uzziah would have been able to expand to the west because he was a loyal vassal of Jeroboam II. This short note is a rare indication of what a military victory and the ensuing territorial expansion meant practically. It involved setting up agricultural estates.134 Then, 2 Chr 27:5 has Uzziah’s son Jotham (756–741 BCE) fighting the Ammonites and receiving tribute from them. Jeroboam II may have contributed in one way or another to the success of this raid, which represents no eastern territorial expansion. Whether or not Jotham was able to halt the Ammonite’s westward advance after the fall of the Nimshide dynasty in 747 BC must remain open.135 It remains a possibility that the episode reflects the hostility of the Ammonites in the days of the Chronicler, retrojected into the days of Jotham.136 All in all, the Chronicler limits Jerusalem’s territorial expansion between the reigns of David and Jehoshaphat (10th to mid-9th century) around Jerusalem and into Benjamin. The wars in the Shephelah from Mareshah to Gerar (reign of Abijah?) and across the Jordan in the days of Jehoshaphat are historically dubious. With Jehoram (mid-9th century) and the end of the cooperation with the Omrides, Jerusalem’s opportunities for territorial expansion dwindle. Amaziah’s short success in the south in the early eighth century is nullified following his fallout with Joash of Israel. Hence, Chronicles agrees with Kings. Jerusalem’s territorial expansion to the south and the west occurred with the backing of Israel at the time of Azariah/Uzziah in the middle of the eighth century BCE.

11. Davidic Marriage Policy between Dynastic Stabilization and Political Expansion The choice of queen mothers helps to identify the political goals of the Davidic dynasty.137 In the tenth and ninth centuries, the main goal was the stabilization of the young dynasty through strategic marriages in surrounding regions with family members within royal dynasties or entourage. The mother of Rehoboam (ca. 926–910 BCE) comes from Ammon (1 Kgs 14:21.31). The mother of Abijah (910–908 BCE) was either a daughter of Absalom (1 Kgs 15:2; 2 Chr 11:21–22) or she came from Gibeon (2 Chr 13:2).138 The mother of Asa (908–868 BCE) also comes from Gibeon of Saul (1 Kgs 15:10), showing that the Davidides were aware of the need to maintain strong ties with their home clans or important families. The marriage of Jehoram (852/47– 845 BCE) with Athaliah, daughter of Omri or of Ahab (2 Kgs 8:25–28) secures strong ties between Jerusalem and Samaria at a time when Judah was Israel’s vassal. With 134

WELTEN 1973:153–163. WELTEN 1973:163–166. 136 WELTEN 1973:165–166. 137 NIEMANN 2006. 138 NIEMANN 2006:226. 135

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Zibiah from Beersheba, Jehoram chooses a southern queen for his son Ahaziah (845 BCE) in order to have a stake with the Omrides in the long-distance trade with Arabia (1 Kgs 22:48–59). The queens of Jehoash (840–801 BCE), Amaziah (801– 773 BCE) and Uzziah (773–756/36 BCE) were probably from Jerusalem itself.139 Strangely, the Bible is silent over the origin of the primary wives of Jotham (756/36– 741 BCE), Ahaz (741–725 BCE) and Hezekiah (725–697 BCE). But with Meshullemeth, daughter of Haruz from Jotbah, 40 km north of Aqaba,140 King Manasseh’s queen (697–642 BCE) signals a renewed interest in the strategic importance of the south after the loss of the Shephelah in 701 BCE. The marriages of Amon (641– 640 BCE) to Jedidah, daughter of Adaiah of Bozkat and of Josiah (639–609 BCE), to Hamutal, daughter of Jeremiah of Libnah (Tel Burna), reflect a shift back towards the Shephelah.141 Hamutal became the mother of the future kings Jehoahaz and Zedekiah. Josiah’s attempts to annex Israel may be reflected in the marriage of his son Jehoahaz (609 BCE) with Zebidah, daughter of Pedaiah from (A-)Ruma, if this site is identified with Ḫirbet ar-Ruma in Galilee, or with Ḫirbet al-Urma in the center of Israel’s traditional core area.142 Jehoiakim’s (608–598 BCE) marriage to Nehushta, daughter of Elnathan of Jerusalem, marks the end of territorial pretensions in the face of NeoBabylonian threats and the need to salvage the dynasty through endogenous marriages.143

12. Expansion Policy of the Davidides. An Outline In the tenth to ninth century BCE, Jerusalem was not looking westwards. The new Davidic kingdom had no territorial base west of the city.144 Apart from when David himself was active in the Shephelah on behalf of Gath, the stories of David’s struggles against the Philistines are broad generalizations and whatever skirmishes may have actually occurred, they had no lasting effects on Jerusalem’s territorial make up. Significantly, after the reign of David there is no longer any mention of clashes between the Davidides and the Philistines. A modus vivendi was established through trade of agricultural products.145 To the north, the situation was entirely different. With Rehoboam began a drawn-out war of attrition with Israel over the control of Benjamin, though Jerusalem’s successes were limited at best to the fortification of Mizpah. Apart from that, Jerusalem’s northern expansion was limited by its stronger Israelite neighbor. Moreover, the likely influence of Benjamin over Judah and Jerusalem remains a blind spot in biblical research.146 Despite the sustained efforts of Rehoboam and Abijah 139

NIEMANN 2006:229–230. NIEMANN 2006:230–231. 141 NIEMANN 2006:231. 142 NIEMANN 2006:232. 143 NIEMANN 2006:232. 144 Contra HERZOG/SINGER-AVITZ 2004. 145 MAEIR 2012:61–65; NIEMANN 2013. 146 DAVIES 1992; 2005; 2007; 2007a; ANDERSON/GUILLAUME forthcoming. 140

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(1 Kgs 12; 15:6.10), Jerusalem achieved limited territorial expansion towards the north in the tenth to early ninth century BCE. Asa’s fortification of Mizpah (1 Kgs 15:22) marked Jerusalem’s northernmost reach. Josiah’s attempt in the late seventh century was short-lived at best (2 Kgs 23:29–30). Southern expansions were coherent with early traditions of David as well as claims to the south of the Davidides because this was, so to speak, an “old Davidic region” (1 Sam 21–30; 2 Sam 2:1–11; 3:1–4; 5:1–5) (see fig. 1). Jerusalem’s best opportunities for expansion were to the south after the end of the ninth century in collaboration with Israel and under Israel’s leadership when fortifications and trading bases (Kuntillet ꜤAǧrud) were set up to tap into the revenues of the Arabian trade routes. The peak of Jerusalem’s southern reach (En Hatzeva; Kadesh Barnea) occurred after the fall of the Kingdom of Israel (720 BCE) and as long as kings Manasseh and Josiah served Assyria’s interests (ca. 696–630 BCE). Western extension of Jerusalem’s zone of influence was always highly desirable given the limited agricultural potential of the mountains of Judah compared to that of Benjamin/Gibeon-Bethel-Plateau and the Shephelah. Yet, the Davidides only made significant advances to the west as a by-product of the hegemony of the Israelite kingdom over Judah during the reigns of the Omrides (first half of the ninth century BCE) and of Jeroboam II (first half of the eighth century BCE). Between ca. 870–800 BCE, Jehoshaphat, Jehoram, Athaliah and Jehoash and again between ca. 775– 740 BCE Uzziah, Azariah and Jotham cooperated with their northern “big brothers” and thus made limited advances. Nevertheless, Jerusalem’s western territorial gains were of limited duration and extent.147 They came to a standstill as a result of the fall of Israel and Sennacherib’s campaign in 701 BCE as a major setback.148 Judah recovered only slowly and partially in the course of the second half of the seventh century. Manasseh’s rule (696–642 BCE) could hardly recover the losses. Despite the disaster suffered by Hezekiah, Jerusalem under Manasseh prospered in the shadow of Assyria. The modest increase in writing found in Judah indicates the rise of a fledging royal administration.149 Inscriptions in the tenth and ninth centuries BCE come from the coast, the Shephelah, the Negev and Israel, but nothing from Judah.150 Around 800 BCE, many seals are still anepigraphic.151 It is only in the seventh century that the numbers of seals and bullae with writing increase significantly, in particular in the Negev forts.152 Fortresses such as Lachish IV–III, Arad XI and Beersheva V on the periphery of the mountain of Judah give a measure of the (limited) power the Davidic dynasty gained over the traditional clan areas,153 rousing the wrath of clan leaders like Micah of Moresheth against the Jerusalemite dynasty (Mic 1–3). So, in the shadow of Assyria, Jerusalem’s recovery with a growing royal administration and greater literacy 147

FAUST 2013. But see Beth-Shemesh in the seventh century BCE (see above, n. 68). 149 AVIGAD/SASS 1997; NIEMANN 1998; FINKELSTEIN/SASS 2013; AHITUV/MAZAR 2013. 150 AHITUV/MAZAR 2013:238. 151 FINKELSTEIN 2016:6.13. 152 AHARONI 1981; LIPSCHITS 2019. 153 LEHMANN/NIEMANN 2014:90. 148

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was based on a southward shift to compensate for western losses in the Shephelah. All of Jerusalem’s power expansions focused on the periphery with the southern and western administrative buildings and fortresses. These means of control bypassed the traditional clanic areas on the mountain of Judah. It is not by chance that no heir to the throne of David had a queen who came from a clan in the mountains of Judah. Instead, royal women were chosen from the areas into which the Davidides expanded. On the other hand, this neglect of the clans and clan interests is one of the reasons why criticism from clan leaders against the Jerusalem Dynasty has arisen (e.g., Mic 1–3). Eastward expansion of the Davidides towards the western shore of the Dead Sea was the only extension achieved independently in the (late?) eighth century and in the second half of the seventh century BCE thanks to the absence of any competitor in this arid zone. In short, David’s move to Jerusalem had severed his “house” (dynasty) from its roots in his Ephratite clan north of Jerusalem, a serious problem in traditional tribal societies. The inability of the Davidides to outgrow the territorial and economic base of their dynastic residence, Jerusalem, without direct or indirect support from Israel, Aram, or Assyria is a token of the structural weakness of their rule once David gained a foothold in the city. The Davidides were essentially influential in Jerusalem. Since the late ninth century BCE, the Davidides had been marking, beyond Jerusalem and the surrounding area, increasing territorial claims on the western and southern periphery of the Judahite mountains through the establishment of a few fortresses. However, the significant growth of the city itself in the eighth and seventh century did not translate into lasting major political gains over the surrounding regions. The structural weakness of Davidic rule was probably also due to the fact that the clans on the mountain of Judah recognized no relationship with David’s clan and the Davidic dynasty and therefore held themselves in permanent, open or covert opposition to the Jerusalemites. The independence of the mountain clans led to occasional self-confident intervention in the dynasty whenever the rulers in Jerusalem changed. In the context of this opposition, as argued previously, the biblical designation “tribe of Judah” seems to be an element of a politically integrative ideology of the Jerusalemite dynasty.154 The mountains of Judah lent their name to the supposed tribe of Judah and thus the tribal state. Pushing this observation further leads to view Jerusalem throughout its monarchical epoch as essentially a city state or city kingdom that only at times, with indirect or direct support from outside, managed to extend its rule beyond the mountain of Judah, thus achieving greater territorial expansion. An indication of the lack of substantial control by the Judahite kingdom, beyond the immediate region of Jerusalem is very small amount of imports in all phases of the Iron Age, and in particular, the very local character of the Iron Age pottery, throughout the entire Iron Age, as seen by the petrographic analyses.155 The hypothesis of a structurally and relatively weak dynasty of David in Jerusalem may be surprising. The limited power structure of the historical Davidic state however, does not contradict the theological (relative) stability and appreciation of the David 154

NIEMANN 2019. BEN-SHLOMO 2019. Thanks to Aren M. Maeir for referring me to this publication. This point is also covered in the papers in this volume by David Ben-Shlomo and by Aren M. Maeir. 155

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dynasty in Biblical texts, produced by scribes of the royal court and scribes or priests of the Jerusalem temple as well as by some prophets. Also, in early Mesopotamian citystates, Yoffee and Seri recently discovered an “inherent fragility of governance”156 caused by various social structures, institutions, local and regional groups,157 where previous research has mostly conveyed a “normative picture of kings as absolute rulers of stable and integrated cities, favored by the gods” as historical reality through the analysis of texts of scribes from courts and temples.158 But dealing with this question more thoroughly with reference to Israel and Judah in the first millennium BCE goes beyond the purpose of this paper. It must of course take in consideration the geographical and temporal as well as socio-economic differences between Mesopotamia of the fourth to third millennium and Israel and Judah in the first millennium BCE.

List of Figures Fig. 1: David’s campaigns according to 1 Samuel 19–2 Samuel 2 (© Hermann Michael Niemann).

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KNAUF, E.A. (2006), Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature, in: O. LIPSCHITS/ M. OEMING (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, Winona Lake, 291–349. KNAUF, E.A. (2007), Jerusalem in the Tenth Century BCE, in: Z. KAFAFI/R. SCHICK (eds.), Jerusalem Before Islam (BARIS 1699), Oxford, 86–105. KNAUF, E.A. (2008), Josua (ZBK 6), Zürich. KNAUF, E.A. (2013), The Glorious Days of Manasseh, in: L.L. GRABBE (ed.), Good Kings and Bad Kings (LHB/OTS 393 = ESHM 5), London/New York 2005, 164–188 (cited after: E.A. KNAUF, Data and Debates: Essays in the History and Culture of Israel and Its Neighbors in Antiquity (AOAT 407), Münster, 251–275). KOCH, I. (2017), Settlements and Interactions in the Shephelah during the Late Second through Early First Millenia BCE, in: O. LIPSCHITS/A.M. MAEIR (eds.), The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeoloical Studies, Winona Lake, 181–207. KYLE MCCARTER JR., P. (1984), II Samuel (AB 9), Garden City. LEHMANN, G. (2012), Survival and Reconstruction of Judah in the Time of Manasseh, in: A. BERLEJUNG (ed.), Disaster and Relief Management – Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung (FAT 81), Tübingen, 289–309. LEHMANN, G./NIEMANN, H.M. (2014), When Did the Shephelah Become Judahite?, TA 41, 77–94. LEONARD-FLECKMAN, M. (2016), The House of David, Minneapolis. LIPSCHITS, O. (2015), The Rural Economy of Judah during the Persian Period and the Settlement History of the District System, in: M.L. MILLER/E. BEN ZVI/G.N. KNOPPERS (eds.), The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context, Winona Lake, 237–264. LIPSCHITS, O. (2019), The Long Seventh Century BCE: Archaeological and Historical Perspectives, in: F. ČAPEK/O. LIP-SCHITS (eds.), The Last Century in the History of Judah: The Seventh Century BCE in Archaeological, Historical, and Biblical Perspectives (SBL – AIL 37), Atlanta 2019a, 7–41. LIPSCHITS, O (2019a)., The lmlk and ‘Private’ Stamp Impressions from Tel Beth-Shemesh: An Added Dimension to the Late 8th and Early 7th Century BCE History of the Site, TA 46, 102–109. LIPSCHITS, O. et al. (2016), Ramat Rahel III: Final Publication of Yohanan Aharoni’s Excavations (1954, 1959–1962) (SMNIA 35), Winona Lake 2016. LIPSCHITS, O. et al. (eds.) (2017), What Are the Stones Whispering?: Ramat Rahel: 3000 Years of Forgotten History, Winona Lake. MAEIR, A.M. (2011), The Archaeology of Early Jerusalem: From the Late Proto-Historic Periods (ca. 5th Millennium) to the End of the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1200 B.C.E.), in: K. GALOR/G. AVNI (eds.), Unearthing Jerusalem: 150 Years of Archaeological Research in the Holy City, Winona Lake, 171–187. MAEIR, A.M. (2012), The Tell es-Safi/Gath Archaeological Project 1996–2010: Introduction, Overview and Synopsis of Results, in: A.M. MAEIR (ed.), Tell es-Safi/Gath I: The 1996–2005 Seasons, Vol. 1: Text (ÄAT 69), Wiesbaden, 1–88. MAEIR, A.M. (2012a), Philistia and the Judean Shephelah after Hazael and the ‘Uzziah Earthquake’: The Power Play between the Philistines, Judahites and Assyrians in the 8th Century BCE in Light of the Excavations at Tell es-Safi/Gath, in: A. BERLEJUNG (ed.), Disaster and Relief Management – Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung (FAT 81), Tübingen, 241–262. MAEIR, A.M. (2017), Philistine Gath after 20 Years: Regional Perspectives on the Iron Age at Tell esSafi/Gath, in: O. LIPSCHITS/A.M. MAEIR (eds.), The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies, Winona Lake, 133–154. MAEIR, A.M. (2017a), The Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath Archaeological Project: Overview, NEA 80(4), 212–231. MAEIR, A.M. (2019), Philistine and Israelite Identities: Some Comparative Thoughts, WdO 49, 151– 160. MAEIR, A.M./SHAI, I. (2016), Reassessing the Character of the Judahite Kingdom: Archaeological Evidence for Non-Centralized, Kinship-Based Components, in: S. GANOR et al. (eds.), From ShaꜤar Hagolan to Shaaraim: Essays in Honor of Prof. Yosef Garfinkel, Jerusalem, 323–340.

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MAEIR, A.M. et al. (2019), The Late Bronze Age at Tell es-Safi/Gath and the Site’s Role in Southwestern Canaan, in: A.M. MAEIR/I. SHAI/C. MCKINNY (eds.), The Late Bronze and Early Iron Ages of Southern Canaan (Archaeology of the Biblical Worlds 2), Berlin, 1–18. MAZAR, A. (1982), Iron Age Fortresses in the Judaean Hills, PEQ 114, 87–109. MAZAR, A. (2020), Jerusalem in the 10th Century B.C.E.: A Response, ZDPV 136(2), 139–151. MESHEL, Z. (2012), Kuntillet ꜤAjrud (Horvat Teman): An Iron Age II Religious Site on the Judah-Sinai Border, Jerusalem. MILLER, M.L./BEN ZVI, E./KNOPPERS, G.N. (eds.) (2015), The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context, Winona Lake. MOYAL, Y./FAUST, A. (2015), Jerusalem’s Hinterland in the Eighth-Seventh Centuries BCE: Towns, Villages, Farmsteads, and Royal Estates, PEQ 147, 283–298. NAʾAMAN, N. (2005), Canaanite Jerusalem and Its Central Hill Country Neighbors in the Second Millennium BCE, in: N. NAʾAMAN, Canaan in the Second Millennium B.C.E: Collected Essays, Vol. II, Winona Lake, 173–194 (first published in: UF 24 [1992], 275–291). NAʾAMAN, N. (2011), Jerusalem in the Amarna Period, in: C. ARNOULD-BÉHAR/A. LEMAIRE (eds.), Jérusalem antique et médiévale: Mélanges en l’honneur d’Ernest-Marie Laperrousaz (Collection de la Revue des Études Juives 52), Paris, 31–48. NIEMANN, H.M. (1993), Herrschaft, Königtum und Staat: Skizzen zur soziokulturellen Entwicklung im monarchischen Israel (FAT 6), Tübingen. NIEMANN, H.M. (1997), The Socio-Political Shadow Cast by the Biblical Solomon, in: L.K. HANDY (ed.), The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium (SHCANE 11) Leiden, 252– 299. NIEMANN, H.M. (1998), Kein Ende des Büchermachens in Israel und Juda (Koh 12,12) – Wann begann es?, BiKi 53(3), 127–134. NIEMANN, H.M. (2000), Megiddo and Solomon: A Biblical Investigation in Relation to Archaeology, TA 27, 61–74. NIEMANN, H.M. (2002), Nachbarn und Gegner, Konkurrenten und Verwandte Judas: Die Philister zwischen Geographie und Ökonomie, Geschichte und Theologie, in: U. HÜBNER/E.A. KNAUF (eds.), Kein Land für sich allein: Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/Palästina und Ebirnâri für Manfred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag (OBO 186), Freiburg/Göttingen, 70–91. NIEMANN, H.M. (2006), Choosing Brides for the Crown-Prince: Matrimonial Politics in the Davidic Dynasty, VT 56, 225–238. NIEMANN, H.M. (2007), Royal Samaria – Capital or Residence? or: The Foundation of the City of Samaria by Sargon II., in: L.L. GRABBE (ed.), Ahab Agonistes: The Rise and Fall of the Omri Dynasty (LHBOTS 421), London/New York, 184–207. NIEMANN, H.M. (2011), Observations on the Layout of Iron Age Samaria: A Reply to Israel Finkelstein, UF 43, 325–334. NIEMANN, H.M. (2013), Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin: Philistines, Shepheleans, Judeans between Geography and Economy, History and Theology, in: A.E. KILLEBREW/G. LEHMANN (eds.), The Philistines and Other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology (SBL – ABS 15), Atlanta, 243– 264. NIEMANN, H.M. (2016., Juda und Jerusalem: Überlegungen zum Verhältnis von Stamm und Stadt und zur Rolle Jerusalems in Juda, UF 47, 147–190. NIEMANN, H.M. (2017), Comments and Questions about the Interpretation of Khirbet Qeiyafa: Talking with Yosef Garfinkel, Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte 23, 245–262. NIEMANN, H.M. (2019), Judah and Jerusalem: Reflections on the Relationship between Tribe and City and the Role of Jerusalem in Judah, ZDPV 135, 1–31. ORTIZ, S.M./WOLFF, S.R. (2017), Tel Gezer Excavations 2006–2015: The Transformation of a Border City, in: O. LIPSCHITS/A.M. MAEIR (eds.), The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies, Winona Lake, 61–102.

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PORAT, N. et al. (2019), Using Portable OSL Reader to Obtain a Time Scale for Soil Accumulation and Erosion in Archaeological Terraces, the Judean Highlands, Israel, Quaternary Geochronology 49, 65–70. SAPIR-HEN, L./GADOT, Y./FINKELSTEIN, I. (2016), Animal Economy in a Temple City and Its Countryside: Iron Age Jerusalem as a Case Study, BASOR 375, 103–118. SCHMID, K. (2008), Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments: Eine Einführung, Darmstadt 2008. SCHMID, K. (2019), Theologie des Alten Testaments (NTG), Tübingen. SCHNIEDEWIND, W.M. (2004), How the Bible Became a Book: Textualization in Ancient Israel, Cambridge, MA. SCHUNCK, K.-D. (1963), Benjamin: Untersuchungen zur Entstehung und Geschichte eines israelitischen Stammes (BZAW 86), Berlin. SCHUNCK, K.-D. (1983), Davids “Schlupfwinkel” in Juda, VT 33, 110–113. SCHUNCK, K.-D. (1984), Art. “meșūdāh”, in: ThWAT 4, Stuttgart, 1081–1085. SERGI, O. (2013), Judah’s Expansion in Historical Context, TA 40, 226–246. SERGI, O (2017)., The Emergence of Judah as a Political Entity between Jerusalem and Benjamin, ZDPV 133, 1–23. SERGI, O. (2019), Israelite Identity and the Formation of the Israelite Polities in the Iron I–IIA Central Canaan, Highlands, Wdo 49, 206–235. SHAI, I. (2017), Tel Burna: A Judahite Fortified Town in the Shephelah, in: O. LIPSCHITS/A.M. MAEIR (eds.), The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies, Winona Lake, 45–60. SHAI, I. et al. (2011), The Iron Age Remains at Tel Nagila, BASOR 363, 25–43. STAVRAKOPOULOU, F. (2004), King Manasseh and Child Sacrifice: Biblical Distortions of Historical Realities (BZAW 338), Berlin/New York. TAPPY, R.E. (2017), The Archaeology and History of Tel Zayit: A Record of Liminal Life, in: O. LIPSCHITS/A.M. MAEIR (eds.), The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies, Winona Lake, 155–179. TAYLOR, J.E./GIBSON, S. (forthcoming), Qumran in the Iron Age in Comparison with the Hasmonean to Early Roman Periods: A Cross-Temporal Study, in: J. EBELING/P. GUILLAUME (eds.), The Woman in the Pith Helmet, Atlanta. THAREANI, Y. (2015), Forces of Decline and Regeneration: A Socioeconomic Account of the Iron Age II Negev Desert, in: M.L. MILLER/E. BEN ZVI/G.N. KNOPPERS (eds.), The Economy of Ancient Judah in Its Historical Context, Winona Lake, 207–235. VEIJOLA, T. (1979), Salomo – der Erstgeborene Bathsebas, in: J.A. EMERTON (ed.), Studies in the Historical Books of the Old Testament (VT.Sup 30), Leiden, 230–250. WEIPPERT, H. (1988), Palästina in vorhellenistischer Zeit (HdA II/1), München. WEIPPERT, M. (2010), Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament (GAT, ATD.E 10), Göttingen. WEISSENRIEDER, A. (ed.) (2016), Borders: Terminologies, Ideologies, and Performances (WUNT 366), Tübingen. WELTEN, P. (1973), Geschichte und Geschichtsdarstellung in den Chronikbüchern (WMANT 42), Neukirchen-Vluyn. WÜRTHWEIN, E. (1984), Die Bücher der Könige: 1.Kön. 17 – 2.Kön 25 (ATD 11/2), Göttingen . YOFFEE, N./SERI, A. (2019), Negotiating Fragility in Ancient Mesopotamia: Arenas of Contestation and Institutions of Resistance, in: N. YOFFEE (ed.), The Evolution of Fragility: Setting the Terms (McDonald Institute Conversations), Cambridge, MA, 183–196.

Border Town and Capital A Comparative Analysis of Iron Age II Tel Burna and Jerusalem Christian Locatell, Joseph (Joe) Uziel, Itzhaq Shai* 1. Introduction Despite its promise in yielding valuable archaeological discoveries about the socio-economic profile of the Shephelah, Tel Burna has been one of the few multi-period cites in the region to remain unexcavated until 2010 under the Tel Burna Archaeological Project, beginning with a high-resolution survey in 2009.1 The data gathered over the past nine seasons of excavation has provided an important view of Tel Burna as a border town vis-à-vis Jerusalem as the capital city, yielding further insights of both through comparative analysis.

2. Tel Burna We begin with an overview of Tel Burna. This will include a description of its geographical profile and its political context in the Iron Age II period. Concerning the latter, evidence for its identification as biblical Libnah will be especially important, providing a textual record of its occupation and role in the Iron Age II. Data from the archaeological investigations of Tel Burna for nine seasons will also be presented in order to provide a fuller socio-political profile of the site. This will include a discussion of its infrastructure, economy, and environmental setting.

* The research presented here on Tel Burna was funded by grants of the Israel Science Foundation (Grant No. 522/16; 257/19). The excavations in Jerusalem were conducted by the Israel Antiquities Authority and funded by the Elad Foundation. The excavations were directed together with N. Szanton and O. Chalaf, whom we wish to thank for years of cooperation and comradery. The data presented here on Jerusalem is based on published materials, as well as excavations that the second author was involved in. 1 UZIEL/SHAI 2010; SHAI/UZIEL 2014; for an overview of the history of research see also MCKINNY/ DAGAN 2013.

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2.1 Identification The identification of Tel Burna with a city known from ancient written sources can greatly help in shedding light on its socio-political context, as noted in section 2.2 below. Since the Bible provides by far the most detailed account of this region during Iron Age II, it is necessary to examine these texts when approaching the question of identification.2 The identification of Tel Burna continues to be debated. Several scholars have suggested Tel Burna as the location of biblical Libnah.3 Others have suggested different locations. For example, Tappy identifies Libnah with nearby Tel Zayit.4 While we cannot claim certainty, there is good reason to identify Tel Burna as biblical Libnah. Tel Burna fits the geographical description of biblical Libnah. For example, Josh 15:42–44 locates Libnah in the third administrative district of Judah along with Eter (Kh. El-A‘ter) and Maresha (Tel Ṣandaḥanna). Josh 10:29–32 also mentions Libnah along with Maqedah (Kh. El-Kôm) and Lachish in the southern Shephelah (cf. Josh 12:15–16; 2 Kgs 19:8) and Josh 21:13 says that it is a Levitical asylum city in the area (cf. 1 Chr 6:57). As seen in fig. 1 below, these geographical descriptions fit with Tel Burna. Furthermore, the archaeological finds at Tel Burna fit the period of occupation at biblical Libnah during the Late Bronze Age and especially Iron Age II. This includes 9th century remains which may be connected with the revolt of Libnah against Judah (2 Kgs 8:22; 2 Chr 21:10) and 8th century BCE remains which can be associated with the Assyrian campaign in the area (2 Kgs 19:8; Isa 37:8, though an unambiguous destruction layer from this period has not yet been found). Seventh century BCE remains may be associated with the time of the Judean Queen (Josiah’s wife) Hamutal whose hometown was Libnah (2 Kgs 23:31; 24:28; Jer 52:1). Lastly, the name Libnah may possibly be seen in an earlier Arabic name of the site, Tel Bulnab, resulting from metathesis.5 However, these considerations do not conclusively yield a precise location. Thus, until excavations clarify the picture, the identification of Tel Burna with biblical Libnah at this point can be considered reasonably well-grounded, but optimistically tentative nevertheless.6 In any case, Tel Burna’s importance as a Judahite border town during Iron Age II is demonstrated by its geographical and geopolitical context, as well as by the archaeological finds from this period, to which we now turn. 2

There is one post-biblical mention of Libnah found in Eusebius’ Onomasticon where he describes it as being in the district of Eleutheropolis (Bet Guvrin). MCKINNY/DAGAN 2013:302–303 suggest that this should be identified as Kh. el Beida, approximately 0.5 km from Eleutheropolis, which “preserves the biblical name from the Bronze-Iron Age tell [i.e., Tel Burna] as the local population was drawn away from the tell toward Eleutheropolis, the largest city in the region.” 3 E.g., ALBRIGHT 1921; RAINEY/NOTLEY 2006:127; ZADOK 2009; NA’AMAN 2013. 4 TAPPY 2008:386. 5 MCKINNY et al. 2018:4–5. This could have been occasioned by the fact that the /l/ and /b/ have the same place of articulation, a common context for metathesis (BUCKLEY 2011:§1.1.2). Compare the change from ḥuk to aḥkaam “judgments” where the metathesized /ḥ/ and /k/ share the same area of articulation (WATSON 2002:172). However, further analysis is needed to determine if this is the case with Libnah > Bulnab. The change from “Bulnab” to “Burna” may have resulted from the close relationship of /l/ and /r/, a known phenomenon in Semitic languages. 6 For an in-depth study of the identification of Tel Burna, see SURIANO/SHAI/UZIEL in press.

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Fig. 1: The geographical setting of Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

2.2 Geographical and Geopolitical Setting of Tel Burna As seen in fig. 1, Tel Burna is situated on the norther bank of the Nahal Guvrin in one of the five east-west valleys, providing access between the coastal plains (and their highways) and the hill country. It is at an elevation of ca. 248 m above sea level vis-à-vis the surrounding valley at ca. 204 m above sea level. Located in the Judean Shephelah, Tel Burna has experienced continual occupation since the Early Bronze Age ca. 3500 BCE up until the Persian period ca. 400 BCE, and has been the site of some form of human activity even into the Byzantine period.7 In addition to the advantageous geographical characteristics just described, Tel Burna was especially well-positioned during Iron Age II as the location of a fortified settlement just west of the Azekah-Tel Goded ridge, a natural border between the Philistine town of Gath (Tell eṣ-Ṣāfī) and the Judean towns of the central Shephelah, which were densely populated at the time,8 especially Lachish, a principle Judahite city.9 This afforded a strategic location with a clear view of the Coastal Plain from which to monitor the road along the Nahal Guvrin and any Philistine activity from Ashdod in the north to Ashkelon and Gaza in the south. In terms of its geopolitics, Tel Burna’s identification as biblical Libnah and its location as a border town would fit with the latter’s 7

UZIEL/SHAI 2010; SHAI/UZIEL 2014. HARDIN 2014:743. 9 SHAI et al. 2012:152; SHAI 2017:45, fig. 1. 8

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vulnerability to wavering political allegiance (e.g., 2 Kgs 8:22 [2 Chr 21:10]) and foreign attack (2 Kgs 19:8; Isa 37:8). A desire to keep Libnah, as a border town, loyal to the Judean throne may also have been a factor in the marriage of the Libnahite woman Hamutal into the royal family (see 2 Kgs 23:31; 24:18; Jer 52:1). This function as a Judahite border town fits with the Iron Age material culture recovered thus far in excavations at Tel Burna which clearly show a political affiliation with the Kingdom of Judah.10 The importance of Tel Burna as an Iron Age settlement is further indicated by the size of its inhabited areas, 70 x 70 m at the summit as well as an additional 16 ha in the lower city, its largest size in any single period being 8 ha in Iron Age II.11 We now turn to the details of Tel Burna’s infrastructure and material culture uncovered so far by recent excavations.

Fig. 2: Tel Burna areas of excavation (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

2.3 Infrastructure and Material Culture So far, excavations have revealed fortifications at Tel Burna which were established at least in the 9th century BCE and continued in use for hundreds of years. Finds from the slopes and surrounding area show that the settlement was not restricted to the summit of the tell (approximately 1.2 ha). Archaeological remains extend beyond this over an area of approximately 10 ha. The material culture uncovered is Judean and there is evidence of Judahite administrative activity. Overall, the history of the Iron II settlement

10 11

SHAI et al. 2012; SHAI et al. 2015; SHAI 2017; see section 2.3.3 below. UZIEL/SHAI 2010.

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of Tel Burna correlates with the Iron II sequence at nearby Lachish.12 Habitation at the site continues until the end of the biblical period, but a destruction layer matching the one at Lachish (Level III – i.e., late 8th century BCE) has not yet been found. So far, six excavation areas have been opened (fig. 2). Area A1 is a stepped trench exposing the north-eastern corner of the Iron Age II casemate wall. Area A2 in the middle of the summit contains Iron Age II buildings with several phases, as well as Persian period remains. Area B1 is located on the lower platform west of the summit and contains a Late Bronze Age cultic enclosure.13 Area B2 is another stepped trench which intersects with the casemate wall on western slope of the summit. Area C is located in a lower platform to the east of the tell and contains agricultural installations. Area G is located on the south side of the summit and contains multiple layers of large fortifications in use as recently as the Persian period. Further description below will focus on the Iron Age II elements of Tel Burna. 2.3.1 Fortifications The primary fortification at Tel Burna is the Iron Age II casemate wall exposed in Areas A1, B2, and G (fig. 3). This wall was already partially exposed along the outer slopes of the summit, creating a 70 x 70 m platform at the top of the tell. In Area A1, two surfaces abutting the casemate wall yielded 9th and 8th century finds respectively, showing its use during these periods (fig. 4).14 The wall of an Iron IIA installation containing a concentration of loom weights also abuts the inner casemate wall, suggesting that the casemate may date as early as the 9th century BCE.15 Additionally, several Iron Age IIC (7th century BCE) grain silos were uncovered, including one that cut through the inner wall of the casemate, giving a terminus ante quem for the casemate’s construction (fig. 5). In Area B2, large amounts of Late Bronze Age fill were used to reinforce the casemate wall (fig. 6). Further west in Area B2, there is also evidence of substantial terracing and what may be a collapsed wall, presumably dating to Iron Age II. The precise date and identification of these remains are still unclear. Area G is located in a depressed area along the side of the summit’s southern edge, perhaps the area of the city gate. One 10 x 10 m square and two 5 x 5 m squares have been opened in this area, exposing large fortifications. A complete Persian period storage jar dates a layer of secondary construction on top of earlier walls. However, after only one season of excavation, more needs to be uncovered to clarify Area G’s relationship with the other fortifications.

12

SHAI et al. 2015:29; SHAI 2017:46–47. MCKINNY et al. 2018:3–4. 14 SHAI et al. 2012; SHAI 2017:50. 15 SHAI 2017:55. 13

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Fig. 3: Tel Burna casemate wall (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

Fig. 4: Casemate wall in Area A1 (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

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Fig. 5: 7th century silo intersecting casemate wall (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

Fig. 6: Area B2 casemate wall (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

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Fig. 7: Four-room house in Area A2 (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

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2.3.2 Buildings and Administration A large Iron Age IIB (ca. 8th century BCE) building has been uncovered in Area A2 in the center in of the summit (fig. 7). While it was suggested that it was constructed in a typical four-room house structure and looks to have covered a 15 x 15 m footprint,16 since the southern wall was not discovered this suggestion was not confirmed. This building is flanked to the north by a pavement made of field stones leading to a beatenearth floor containing finds consistent with textile production (see section 2.4 below). This appears to have been the main building during this period.17 In the 2018 season below this building, an earlier one was uncovered which follow more or less the same outline. As of yet, the finds in the earlier building are scarce, making its dating not clear. However, it seems that this location served for the construction of one of the largest buildings on the summit, and one may suggest it was used by the local elite family.18

Fig. 8: 7th century BCE silos (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

In the upper portion of the stepped trench in Area B2, there is an Iron Age IIC building was incorporated into the Iron Age II casemate wall (its western wall is the inner fortification wall). The building has at least two rooms. However, it is not clear if the inner wall was used in this period as part of the fortification of the summit. There are also clear signs of the administrative presence of the kingdom of Judah at Tel Burna during the Iron Age IIB and IIC (fig. 8). These includes lmlk stamped handles, Rosette, and the so called “Private” stamped handles.19 The private or official seal reads ‫חגי‬/‫ לעזר‬and is typical of the orthography seen in 8th and 7th century Hebrew seals (fig. 9). 16

SHAI 2017. SHAI 2017:50. 18 MAEIR/SHAI 2016. 19 SHAI et al. 2014; SHAI 2017. 17

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Furthermore, Iron Age II seal impressions with the name ʿĒzer and Ḥaggî have also been found in Azekah and Gezer (also in the Shephelah along with Tel Burna) and the patronymic ʿĒzer has been found at Beth-Shemesh and Lachish.20 These finds may indicate that ʿĒzer was a member of high-status family in this region which played a significant role in the local administration.21

Fig. 9: Stamped handle (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

2.3.3 Material Culture Pottery has been found from a range of classes corresponding to each of the ceramic horizons in the 9th, 8th, and 7th centuries BCE (figs. 9–13).22 These include cooking, serving, and storage vessels typical of Iron Age II Judean material culture. However, the presence of quartz grains consistent with beach sand in some of the pottery may suggest a coastal provenance.23 Ninth century BCE pottery, found in relation to the fortification wall and alongside loom weights, include small carinated bowls with a plain rim, red slip, and interior burnishing (fig. 10.1). Another common type is a rounded bowl with ridges below a flattened rim that is red-slipped and hand-burnished, as is typical of late Iron Age IIA (fig. 10.2). Kraters typical of late Iron Age IIA are also found (fig. 10.3–6). There are also jars with a short neck and wide shoulder found from this period at Tel Burna (fig. 10.7–8).

20

BARKAY/VAUGHN 1996:42–44; SHAI 2017:54; see also MAEIR/SHAI 2016:326–327. MAEIR/SHAI 2016:326; SHAI/MAEIR 2018. For an in-depth analysis of this private stamped handle, see SHAI et al. 2014. 22 SHAI et al. 2015:31; SHAI et al. 2012:147–151. 23 SHAI et al. 2015:32; SHAI 2017:53. 21

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From the 8th century BCE, various forms were found on the summit, characterized by wheel rather than hand burnishing. These include Judean folded bowl rims (fig. 11.2– 3), various other types of bowls (fig. 11.1 and fig. 11.4–5), closed cooking pots with a ridge around the rim (fig. 11.6), kraters (fig. 11.7), holemouth jars with a ledge rim (fig. 11.8) and lmlk-type jars (fig. 11.9–11).

Fig. 10: 9th century BCE pottery from Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

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Fig. 11: 8th century BCE pottery from Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

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Fig. 12: 7th century BCE pottery from Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

Seventh-century BCE pottery has been mostly found from the five silos on the summit (discussed above). These include bowls (fig. 12.1–2), lamps with a raised base (fig. 12.3), storage jars with short necks (fig. 12.4–5), ridge-rimed cooking pots (fig. 12.6–7), holemouth jars (fig. 12.8), and storage jars (fig. 12.9–10).24

24 For details on all these pottery types and comparison with similar finds from other sites, see SHAI et al. 2012:147–151.

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In addition to the stamped handles described, other interesting finds include several Judean Pillar Figurines (fig. 13). This figurine was made employing a mold to form the face, a common Judahite technique allowing for the presentation of hairstyle and facial features. The body was hand-molded in the form of a pillar with nob-like breasts, perhaps representing Asherah, Astarte, and Hathor for syncretic religious practice in Judah. In addition, about ten more fragments of Judean Pillar Figurines were discovered. These figurines are so typical of Judahite culture that their distribution lines up with the borders of the kingdom.25 It is also noteworthy that such figurines were locally made.26 The presence of this practice shows a religious connection between the inhabitants of Tel Burna and other Judahite centers during the 8th and 7th centuries BCE. However, these are associated with private practice rather than corporate worship.27

Fig. 13: Judean Pillar Figurine (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

2.4 Economy and Trade There is much data to reconstruct the economy and trade of Tel Burna. Areas A1 and A2 have yielded the remains of textile production in Iron Age IIA and IIB, respectively. A concentration of approximately 40 loom weights were found in Area A1 in an installation made of field stones abutting the inner casemate in an Iron Age IIA context. Area A2 yielded approximately 30 loom weights in situ in the courtyard of Building 52008 (i.e., Iron Age IIB context) and three plaster-covered chalk stones apparently used in the manufacturing process. These finds are consistent with both domestic and industrial textile production with a warp-weighted loom.28

25

KLETTER 1996; BYRNE 2004. KLETTER 1999; DARBY 2014:185–189; BEN-SHLOMO/DARBY 2014. 27 MCKINNY et al. 2018:7–8. 28 SHAI 2017:55; ORENDI et al. 2017:183; MCKINNY et al. 2018:8. 26

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Fig. 14: Area C agricultural installations (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

Textiles manufactured at Tel Burna appear to have been produced from flaxseed, as indicated by the large quantities of seeds found at Tel Burna with 100% ubiquity. Other crop types at Tel Burna are typical of those varieties found in the southern Levant and other Mediterranean contexts, including olives, grapes, and figs, as well as wheat, barley, and pulses.29 The use of stable carbon isotope analysis as a measure of water stress during the grain-filling period of a plant indicates favorable conditions in the area surrounding Tel Bruna in Iron Age IIB–C.30 Moister conditions such as this foster growth in the length of flaxseed fibers, providing converging evidence that its primary use 29 30

SHAI et al. 2014; RIEHL/SHAI 2015; SHAI 2017. RIEHL/SHAI 2015.

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would have been in textile production, rather than oil production for which warmer and drier climates are more conducive. This fits the fact that mentions of flax in the Bible are consistently associated with textile production (e.g., Prov 31:13; Isa 19:9; Ezek 40:3; Hos 2:7.11). Archaeobotanical analysis of one of the Iron Age IIC storage silos (discussed above in section 2.3.2, fig. 8) yielded 16 different crop taxa and 32 wild plant taxa, including fig seeds, barley, linseed, and wheat.31 Agricultural installations cut into the bedrock have been found in Area C on the eastern slopes of the tell (fig. 14). The remains include cup marks, carved basins, wine and olive presses.32 The finds that were discovered in this context consist of basalt grinding stones, flint objects alongside Middle Bronze, Late Bronze and Iron Age pottery. These fit the association of this area with agricultural activity. The shallow soil depth due to the surface-level bedrock has limited the amount of recovered seeds, grains, and legumes in this area. In terms of trade, the construction of silos in Iron Age IIC shows a growing need for storage due to more extensive crop cultivation, possibly due to increased trade with the Coastal Plain in addition to contributing to food production for the kingdom of Judah. Increased crop production may have also been important for keeping up with tribute imposed on the area as a result of Sennacherib’s campaign in 701 BCE.33 Furthermore, cereals typically account for the vast majority of the crops at settlements not involved in trade. However, these account for just over 50% of Tel Burna’s agricultural remains. The other various crop varieties represented at Tel Burna are found in relatively equal quantities. These findings support the conclusion that Iron Age II Tel Burna was engaged in trade and had a varied economy.34 Further evidence of trade in the Tel Burna economy comes from the pottery found at the site. As mentioned above in section 2.3.3, petrographic analysis of cooking ware suggests that, while most were produced in the surrounding area or the Judean hill country, some were produced in the Coastal Plain.35 Thus, considerations of location, architecture, dietary habits, non-decorative ware associated with Judahite material culture, and other material culture as outlined in section 2.3.3 above reinforce the identification of Tel Burna as a Judahite site in Iron Age II with some level of Philistine trade relations. In contrast to the Bronze Age settlement period,36 the Iron Age II remains at Tel Burna have not yielded any Cypriote ware or Aegean imports.

31 SHAI et al. 2014:127–128, table 1. For an in-depth archaeobotanical analysis of Tel Burna in the Bronze and Iron Ages, including an overview of its environmental setting, see ORENDI et al. 2017. 32 ŠMEJDA et al. 2017:64. 33 FAUST/WEISS 2005; RIEHL/SHAI 2015:531–532; ORENDI et al. 2017:183. 34 SHAI 2017:56; ORENDI et al. 2017:184. 35 SHAI et al. 2015:32. 36 See further SHAI et al. 2018.

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3. Jerusalem In contrast to Tel Burna, Jerusalem is witness to a very different history as well as history of research. With close to two centuries of archaeological research, uninterrupted religious interest, and continued settlement represented by some 5,000 years of architectural remains and historical mentions likely beginning almost four millennia ago, the study of Iron Age II Jerusalem has both benefited and suffered. In light of the plethora of data and academic discussions dedicated to Jerusalem, the following discussion will focus on the topics discussed above related to the site of Tel Burna, therefore forming a comparative dataset for discussion. 3.1 Identification Whereas the identification of Jerusalem on a whole is unquestionable, the location of its ancient core has been debated over time. While originally thought to have been established in the vicinity of the Temple Mount and within the enclosure of the Old City walls, the archaeological remains uncovered to the south of the Ottoman walls, originally dubbed the Southeastern Hill or the Hill of Ophel led archaeologists to convincingly relocate the ancient core on this narrow hill, labelling it as “the City of David”.37 The remains uncovered included findings from as early as the Early Bronze Age,38 as well as remains of public architecture dating to the Middle Bronze Age and Iron Ages.39 Recently, however, scholars have questioned the extent of the remains on the Southeastern Hill and have suggested that Jerusalem be searched for elsewhere. These claims have mostly revolved around the lack of remains dating to the Late Bronze and early Iron Age. Whereas Jerusalem is known through textual (the el-Amarna Archive) and biblical testimony, the archaeological remains are scarce. This led to several articles which suggest searching for Jerusalem of the Bronze and early Iron Age in other parts of the city,40 particularly the Temple Mount, which is now enclosed by the Herodian platform, but which would have been large enough and commanding enough to house what was probably a relatively small city in these periods.41 This argument – however difficult to disprove as archaeological information for the Temple Mount is scarce – ignores some basic data which is available regarding the settlement on the Southeastern Hill. First and foremost, the earliest archaeological remains, as well as the earliest architectural remains are found at the base of the Southeastern Hill. The reason for this is quite clear, as this is the location of a perennial water source, the Gihon Spring. This spring was in essence the greatest natural resource that Jerusalem had to offer – enabling increased agricultural production, as well as other forms of production which required water. It also allowed for a consistent supply of drinking water for both humans and their herds, making this the most logical location for beginning the ancient settlement

37

For an overview, see REICH 2011. VINCENT 1911; SHILOH 1984; DE GROOT 2012; EISENBERG 2012. 39 See, e.g., CAHILL 2003; DE GROOT 2012. 40 KNAUF 2002; STEINER 2003. 41 FINKELSTEIN/KOCH/LIPSCHITS 2011. 38

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of Jerusalem, which later turned into a small city, the capital of Judah and finally a megapolis in terms of the Iron Age southern Levant.42 Regardless, by the Iron Age II, Jerusalem had become a fortified city, the center of the Judean kingdom. Although it is not clear if this occurred in the 10th century BCE as suggested in the biblical text,43 by the 9th century BCE, Jerusalem was clearly a fortified city, with remains covering the Southeastern Hill, if not more.44 This situation continued until 586 BCE, when the site covered an area of some 65 ha.45 3.2 Geographical and Geopolitical Setting of Jerusalem Jerusalem’s geographical and geopolitical setting are of a different nature than when considering the general trends of urban development in the southern Levant. Despite this, by the late 8th and 7th century BCE, it rose in status to one of the largest – if not the largest city in the region.46 As opposed to many other sites that developed along roads and crossroads, Jerusalem developed in a backwater of sorts, in the hill country, where international intervention by the empires and armies which often traversed the region was minimal. It is likely that in fact this setting of minimal intervention allowed Jerusalem to grow almost uninterruptedly until the Babylonian destruction of 586 BCE. Within a certain vacuum of power, Jerusalem was able to establish itself as the center of a polity within its surroundings. The geopolitical position of the site, which included an agriculturally rich landscape (for example, the Rephaim Valley47), yet limited access to trade routes, created this vacuum and may have been an important factor in its rise. One can see for example, the el-Amarna correspondence from Jerusalem indicates the relative power that its ruler, Abdi-Ḫepa, had.48 This may have also been a deciding factor in the choice of Jerusalem as the seat of the Judahite/United monarchy. Its position in a relatively remote area may have added to its importance.49 The source of the site’s economic stature was likely drawn from its waters – namely the Gihon Spring. Other than the spring ancient Jerusalem is devoid of any natural resources that would provide it economic stability. However, the presence of what was likely an endless amount of water allowed the population of the site to manipulate the water, collect it and utilize it for purposes far beyond drinking. Such water could be used for agriculture, as noted in the biblical text which mention the fields of the Kidron (2 Kgs 23:4), animal husbandry50 and possibly other production industries, although it is important to note that no evidence of such industry has been found. In the later stages of the Iron Age, it is possible that the temple became an additional, or even primary 42 For further discussion on the location of Jerusalem on the Southeastern Hill, see GEVA 2014; GEVA/DE GROOT 2017; GADOT/UZIEL 2017. 43 E.g., A. MAZAR 2006; E. MAZAR 2007. 44 DE GROOT 2012; UZIEL/SZANTON 2015. 45 GEVA 2014:139. 46 E.g., GEVA 2014. 47 See GADOT 2015. 48 UZIEL/BARUCH/SZANTON 2019. 49 UZIEL/SHAI 2007. 50 See SAPIR-HEN et al. forthcoming.

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source of the city’s economy. Although little is known archaeologically of the First Temple, this was certainly true for the Second Temple Period, when the temple was clearly the spiritual and economic center of the city.51 Both the biblical text and other historical records would indicate that while more modest in nature, the First Temple was also an important economic source for the city, as noted for example in the biblical text (e.g., 2 Kgs 12:19).52 It is important to note however that, despite the economic and political clout that Jerusalem had, its remoteness did create a need for secondary centers in more central places, particularly along the borders of the kingdom. 3.3 Infrastructure and Material Culture The excavations in Jerusalem began in the mid-19th century, with numerous important and expansive projects in different parts of the city. For the last several decades, the excavations in the ancient core of Jerusalem have been ongoing almost uninterruptedly exposing remains spanning the entirety of Jerusalem’s history, beginning already in Prehistoric time,53 and continuing for thousands of years of settlement all the way through to modern times. For the purpose of discussion here, only finds dating to the Iron Age II, i.e., the days of the Judahite Monarchy, will be discussed. For the early part of the period, these finds are fiercely debated and are mostly limited to the area of the Southeastern Hill and the Ophel. From the 9th century BCE onward, Jerusalem continuously grows until by the late 8th century BCE (and possibly earlier) it includes an area of 60 ha, extending over the Southeastern Hill, the Ophel and the Western Hill, all enclosed in fortifications. Although certain similarities can easily be noted between the chronology of the settlement in Jerusalem and those of other sites in Judah – such as Tel Burna and most prominently Lachish – the history of the site is quite different, greatly affecting its archaeological record and in turn demands a different methodological and interpretive mindset. Whereas most sites in Judah (as well as other sites in the Shephelah and lowlands) have a tumultuous history, with destruction levels very clearly defining their archaeological strata, Jerusalem lacks such clear breaking points separating layers. Most notably, the Aramean destruction, which is now known to have been quite an impactful event in the Shephelah54 and the Assyrian campaign which lay most of the region to waste did not manage to bring down Jerusalem. Both of these events are described in the biblical text, while the latter is also discussed in the Assyrian Annals, and although the reasons behind the survival of Jerusalem can be debated, what is clear is that the site 51

E.g., SZANTON et al. 2019. Although elsewhere the historicity of these verses has been defended (UZIEL/SZANTON 2017), this is of little importance when considering the fact that the date of this composition most clearly predates the period when the Second Temple became an economic force in Jerusalem. Therefore, its reflection on the riches of the temple is one that must reflect the First Temple. The connection between economy and cult – particularly the central temple of a capital of a small kingdom – is not difficult to understand as this was probably the case for many temples in the Ancient Near East (see, e.g., SCHMITT 2014). 53 MARDER/KHALAILY 2004. 54 MAEIR 2012. 52

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was not destroyed. Three important outcomes affecting archaeological interpretation stem for this lack of destruction: the transition between phases is one of slow change, making the attribution of specific features to specific time periods difficult; the correlation of these changes in different areas did not necessarily occur at the same moment; the comparison of a certain context yielding material culture in Jerusalem and other sites may be difficult since these cut off points do not exist. This latter problem is one of great importance since chronologically, quite often the remains in Jerusalem have been assigned according to specific destruction levels of the Shephelah sites. Yet there is no reason to assume that there may be chronological differences between these elements and the destructions discovered some kilometers away. 3.3.1 Fortifications That Jerusalem of the late Iron Age was fortified is a given. Remains of these fortifications have been exposed by numerous expeditions in different parts of the site. The most famous of these fortifications is the “Broad Wall” exposed by N. Avigad on the Western Hill,55 dating to the late 8th century BCE and continuing in use until the city’s destruction in 586 BCE. These fortifications clearly indicated that the fortified area of Jerusalem expanded greatly at this time, although the reasons behind this expansion have been extensively argued.56 Regardless, by this time, the line of fortifications surrounding the city is quite clear, including the broad wall and other segments of fortifications within the confines of the Ottoman Old City,57 and several segments exposed along the eastern slopes of the City of David, such as Wall 219 in Area of Y. Shiloh’s excavations58 and Wall 1 exposed by K.M. Kenyon.59 These fortifications, as wide as 7 m, have been exposed for significant lengths on all sides. As opposed to the well-known casemate walls uncovered in various sites in Judah, Jerusalem’s walls were solid-built stone walls, often displaying insets and offsets. Interestingly, it appears that the city may have had more than one line of wall – as noted by the discoveries of R. Reich and E. Shukron along the Kidron, where they exposed remains of an additional wall, also with insets and offsets, which was dated to the Iron Age IIB.60 This likely is another indication of the fluctuation of Jerusalem’s population and the need for additional fortified areas, in light of the military campaigns which befell on the area. Less clear are the fortifications of the city predating the mid-late 8th century BCE onward. Importantly, remains of any such construction have been limited to the eastern slopes of the Southeastern Hill. Furthermore, the character and function of these remains (e.g., Y. Shiloh’s Wall 285, K.M. Kenyon’s Wall 3) has been called into question, with several scholars expressing doubts about the defensive function of these elements.61 55

E.g., GEVA 2003. E.g., BROSHI 1974; NA’AMAN 2007; FINKELSTEIN 2008; UZIEL/SZANTON 2015 and further references therein. 57 See, e.g., RE’EM 2018. 58 DE GROOT 2012. 59 STEINER 2001. 60 REICH/SHUKRON 2008. 61 BEN AMI 2014; USSISHKIN 2016. 56

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Those who indeed accepted the interpretation of these elements as fortifications, suggested they were in use from the time of their construction in the Middle Bronze Age, until their replacement by the more massive fortifications discussed above in the 8th century BCE.62 Recently, unequivocal evidence for the construction of fortifications in the 9th century BCE has been unearthed. Radiocarbon dates found beneath the massive tower built around the spring retrieved late 9th century BCE dates,63 almost 1,000 years later than the original dating of the tower.64 This is at a minimum evidence that at this time, the ruling class of Jerusalem was capable of repairing such massive fortifications, with walls as wide as seven meters. However, it is likely that the original dating of the tower was erroneous and therefore the Judahite monarchy was in fact behind the construction of these fortifications in the late 9th century BCE. 3.3.2 Buildings and Administration Jerusalem’s architecture is not outstanding, although the preservation of its remains, even those of the Iron Age II, is. Construction of Jerusalem’s buildings was exclusively stone, as this was a readily available material. In the Iron Age, most of the domestic structures, as well as portions of public structures, were built using uncut field stones. Certain public structures integrated medium-sized, roughly cut ashlars, monolithic stone pillars and thresholds. Good examples of the latter were exposed in excavations in the Ophel65 and more recently in the excavations in the Givati Parking Lot.66 The latter excavations also exposed other building materials of interest – particularly of fine quality, thick floor which collapsed in the 586 BCE destruction.67 However, more telling of Jerusalem’s administration as the capital of the kingdom of Judah is not in its architecture, which is largely comparable to other sites in Judah, such as Tel Burna. Rather, it is the small finds discovered at the site. Whereas many sites in Judah have yielded scores of stamped handles, including lmlk, private and rosette motifs, Jerusalem is not surprisingly one of the richest sites in these finds. Although this may be somewhat affected by the scale of excavations in Jerusalem, it is still telling that Jerusalem is not only rich in the amounts of stamps found, but in the trend of administration as seen through stamped handles, spanning not only the Iron Age but continuing well past it to the Persian and Hellenistic periods.68 What makes Jerusalem even more outstanding however is the presence of an enormous number of bullae dating to the Iron Age II, alongside a significant amount of seals of a similar nature. These bullae begin to appear in Jerusalem already in the 9th century BCE, when they are completely iconographic,69 changing morphologically sometime in the late 8th century BCE, when the symbols are changed with the names of the officials within 62

See, e.g., MAZAR 2006; DE GROOT 2012; UZIEL/SZANTON 2015. REGEV et al. 2017. 64 REICH/SHUKRON 2010. 65 E.g., MAZAR/MAZAR 1989. 66 SHALOM et al. 2019. 67 VAKNIN et al. 2020. 68 See, e.g., LIPSCHITS 2018. 69 REICH/SHUKRON/LERNAU 2007; UZIEL/SZANTON 2015. 63

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the Judahite administration.70 These stamps and bullae are of importance in noting not only the people involved in Judah’s bureaucratic circles, with significant understanding into the administrative practices involved, but the scope of Jerusalem’s bureaucratic systems. The sealings indicate that officials were charged with sealing both commodities and official letters – placing Jerusalem at the center of the sphere of a network of trade and communication throughout Judah. 3.3.3 Material Culture The pottery assemblages of Jerusalem are quite typical of Judah in the Iron Age II, although as noted above, they present a unique test case, as Jerusalem’s history differs from other sites in Judah and therefore, clear-cut, datable separations between the assemblages are missing, as opposed to other sites in the region. Therefore, at times, assemblages from Jerusalem often display “mixed” attributes. For example, recent scholarship has published several examples of assemblages with markers of a Lachish IV and Lachish III horizon, side by side with one another. In this sense, one can note the assemblages attributed to Y. Shiloh’s Strata 13 and 12B,71 the assemblage from the RockCut Pool,72 the assemblage found to the north of the Fortified Passage,73 and even assemblages found in the area of the Western Hill.74 Several, classic Lachish III types are notably missing from the assemblages, but at the same time certain traits typical of this horizon do appear. All of these assemblages for example have a significant amount of hand and wheel burnishing. A good example is the lack of closed cooking jugs with ridged rims, stamped handles, etc. Also missing are the typical Judean Pillar Figurines (JPF’s), which appear later. The same is true for later Iron Age assemblages. Notable is the division of three strata in the different areas excavated by Y. Shiloh (Strata 12–10) covering the late 8th–early 6th century.75 Recently, excavations just to the east of Warren’s Shaft System uncovered structures with some ten superimposed floors. The correlation between the pottery on these surfaces, coupled with absolute dating of the various surfaces will certainly lead to a more fine-tuned understanding of ceramic development in Jerusalem.76 Cultic practices are also quite similar in Jerusalem and its western counterparts, even beyond the Judeo-Philistine border. Cultic vessels include chalices, as discovered in a secure 9th century BCE context in the Givati Parking Lot.77 However, the most common cultic paraphernalia found in Jerusalem are figurines – particularly Judean Pillar Figurines78 as well as zoomorphic figurines, such as horse and rider figurines. These objects are found in almost all contexts in Jerusalem, subsequent to the 8th century BCE, 70

E.g., SHILOH 1984; AVIGAD/SASS 1997; MENDEL-GEBEROVICH/CHALAF/UZIEL 2020. DE GROOT/BERNICK-GREENBERG 2012. 72 DE GROOT/FADIDAH 2011. 73 UZIEL/SZANTON 2015. 74 E.g., DE GROOT 2018. 75 DE GROOT/BERNICK-GREENBERG 2012. 76 See, CHALAF/UZIEL 2018; MENDEL-GEBEROVICH/CHALAF/UZIEL 2020. 77 BEN AMI 2014. 78 KLETTER 1996. 71

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regardless of character. Recently, a discovery made in Jerusalem’s Old City excavations revealed a hybrid female figurine, displaying attributes of earlier plaque figurines and Judean Pillar Figurines. This find links the Judean Pillar Figurines with earlier female figures, common in the Canaanite realm.79 This is an indication of the long tradition of cultic practices in the region, despite the introduction of certain beliefs in Iron Age Judah. Although many aspects of the cultic milieu changed, some only developed yet kept their basic core meaning. 3.4 Economy and Trade Jerusalem’s economy was no doubt partially supported by its status as a cultic center and temple-city, as noted in the biblical text. However, beyond the temple, it is likely that the city served as commercial center for the surrounding region. The many excavations in the hinterland of Jerusalem have revealed intense agricultural production, particularly, but not limited to the Rephaim Valley.80 It is likely that this production also occurred at the foot of the settlement, utilizing the waters of the spring, as noted in 2 Kgs 23:4. Other forms of production – at least on a small scale have also been noted, although these were most likely on a household level, with major productions (e.g., pottery production) occurring outside the city and in satellite settlements. Despite this, Jerusalem’s economy was strong, as seen in the import of products to the city. Evidence of such imports is most clearly seen in the pottery recovered. Recently, an in-depth study of the ceramic assemblages of Jerusalem has shown that imports were quite common in the earlier parts of the period, however later on, it appears that the site was less interested in importing pottery (and the commodities in the vessels) from afar.81 However, in its early stages, such imports were common. Although Cypriot imports are rare at the site, they do occur. More outstanding is the regional connection that Jerusalem had with competing, neighboring polities – particularly Philistia. This is seen in the import of Late Philistine Decorated Ware.82 These vessels, with their typical white and black bands on a red slip and burnish, have been defined as a family of Philistine ceramics, primarily produced in the southern Coastal Plain. Pottery sherds found in Jerusalem belonging to this type have shown that while some were produced in the vicinity of Jerusalem, others were imported. The trade networks that Jerusalem was involved with are not limited to pottery vessels, however. They can be noted in other aspects, such as the contents of these vessels. In a recent study, residue analysis has shown that although the primary oil used for lighting was olive oil, which can be grown locally in the region of Jerusalem, one lamp yielded residue of date-palm oil. This is an indication of trade with areas to the east of Jerusalem, such as the area of Jericho.83 More indicative of trade however, is the large assemblages of fish bones found in the various Iron Age excavations in the city. Fish, not local to Jerusalem, arrived beginning at least in the 9th century BCE, and continued 79

GEVA/YEZERSKI/GUTFELD 2018. GADOT 2015. 81 BEN-SHLOMO 2018. 82 COHEN-WEINBERGER/SZANTON/UZIEL 2017. 83 NAMDAR et al. 2017. 80

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to be imported up until the end of the period, primarily from the coast and the Sea of Galilee, as well as possibly the Red Sea.84

4. Comparative Analysis of Border Town and Capital The data presented above on two sites of different character within the Judahite kingdom sheds light on certain similarities and differences between life in the capital of the kingdom in contrast to a border town. Whereas Tel Burna is located in a more central region, with close geographical – and therefore physical – contact with neighboring polities, Jerusalem is in actuality more remote, despite being the capital. That said, both sites indicate a certain amount of interaction with other polities, such as the Philistines. These interactions are clearly noted in the material culture of each site. Interestingly, the public building projects at both sites are telling in terms of their character. Both sites are fortified, at least from the 9th century BCE onward. However, at Tel Burna, the fortification enclosed the summit, likely protecting the elite families at the site. This is notable in the large building exposed in Area A2. Jerusalem’s fortifications seem to encompass and protect the entirety of the city, with a particular focus on its water source. This is likely the reason for Jerusalem’s survival of the Assyrian campaign of the end of the 8th century BCE, and in turn its continuing development of archaeological material culture in the 7th century BCE. The status of the fortified city of Jerusalem is most likely also mirrored in the greater architectural investment – although this is not always indicated in the facts on the ground, save for the large investment in fortifications, noted in the numerous additions and repairs of the city walls. However, the administrative evidence uncovered in Jerusalem reflects its unique character and standing. Although – as in many other sites – there is evidence for administration at Tel Burna, this is clearly of a more limited nature. If one accepts the identification of Tel Burna as Libnah – a border town mentioned several times in the biblical text – we can begin to understand the importance in the eyes of the Jerusalem ruling class in maintaining close relations with its border towns. This is reflected in two of the stories where Libnah is mentioned: Libnah’s rebellion against Jerusalem (2 Kgs 8:22) and the late marriage between a daughter of Libnah, Hamutal, with Josiah (2 Kgs 23:31). Despite the differences in size and standing between the sites, it is clear that both capital and border were key to the survival and development of the kingdom of Judah in the Iron Age II.

84

REICH/SHUKRON/LERNAU 2007; UZIEL/SZANTON 2015.

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List of Figures* Fig. 1: The geographical setting of Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 2: Tel Burna areas of excavation (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 3: Tel Burna casemate wall (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 4: Casemate wall in Area A1 (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 5: 7th century silo intersecting casemate wall (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 6: Area B2 casemate wall (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 7: Four-room house in Area A2 (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 8: 7th century BCE silos (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 9: Stamped handle (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 10: 9th century BCE pottery from Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 11: 8th century BCE pottery from Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 12: 7th century BCE pottery from Tel Burna (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 13: Judean Pillar Figurine (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project). Fig. 14: Area C agricultural installations (© Tel Burna Archaeological Project).

Bibliography ALBRIGHT, W.F. (1921), Libnah and Gath, BASOR 4, 2–12. AVIGAD, N./SASS, B. (1997), Corpus of West Semitic Stamp Seals, Jerusalem. BARKAY, G./VAUGHN, A.G. (1996), New Readings of Hezekian Official Seal Impressions, BASOR 304, 29–54. BEN-AMI, D. (2014), Notes on the Iron IIA Settlement in Jerusalem in Light of Excavations in the Northwest of the City of David, TA 41(1), 3–19. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2018), The Iron Age Pottery of Jerusalem: A Typological and Technological Study (Ariel University Institute of Archaeology Monograph Series 2), Ariel. BEN-SHLOMO, D./DARBY, E.D. (2014), A Study of the Production of Iron Age Clay Figurines from Jerusalem, TA 41(2), 180–204. BROSHI, M. (1974), The Expansion of Jerusalem in the Reigns of Hezekiah and Manasseh, IEJ 24, 21‒ 26. BUCKLEY, E. (2011), Art. “Metathesis”, in: M. VAN OOSTENDORP et al. (eds.), The Blackwell Companion to Phonology, Vol. 3: Phonological Processes (Blackwell Reference Online), Hoboken. https://doi.org/10.1002/9781444335262.wbctp0059. BYRNE, R. (2004), Lie Back and Think of Judah: The Reproductive Politics of Pillar Figurines, NEA 67, 137–151. CAHILL, J.M. (2003), Jerusalem at the Time of the United Monarchy: The Archaeological Evidence, in: A.G. VAUGHN/A.E. KILLEBREW (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBL – Symposium Series 18), Atlanta, 13–80. CHALAF, O./UZIEL, J. (2018), Beyond the Walls: New Findings on the Eastern Slope of the City of David and their Significance for Understanding the Urban Development of Late Iron Age Jerusalem, in: E. MEIRON (ed.), City of David Studies of Ancient Jerusalem 13, Jerusalem, 17–32. COHEN-WEINBERGER, A./SZANTON, N./UZIEL, J. (2017), Ethnofabrics: Petrographic Analysis as a Tool for Illuminating Cultural Interactions and Trade Relations between Judah and Philistia during the Iron Age II, BASOR 377, 1–20. * All figures are copyright of the Tel Burna Archaeological Project. Photos courtesy of I. Shai, J. Uziel and V. Naikhin. Plans and Maps were prepared by J. Rosenberg. Pottery drawings were prepared by Y. Rodman and A. Karasik.

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DARBY, E.D. (2014), Interpreting Judean Pillar Figurines: Gender and Empire in Judean Apotropaic Ritual (FAT II 69), Tübingen. DE GROOT, A. (2012), Discussion and Conclusions, in: A. DE-GROOT/H. BERNICK-GREENBERG (eds.), Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, Vol. VIIA: Area E. Stratigraphy and Architecture (Qedem 53), Jerusalem, 141–184. DE GROOT, A. (2018), The Pottery from Strata VIII, IX, and X, in: A. RE’EM (ed.), The Qishle Excavation in the Old City of Jerusalem, Jerusalem, 160–187. DE GROOT, A./BERNICK-GREENBERG, H. (2012), Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, Vol. VIIB: Area E. The Finds (Qedem 54), Jerusalem. DE GROOT, A./FADIDA, A. (2011), The Pottery Assemblage from the Rock-Cut Pool Near the Gihon Spring, TA 38(2), 158–166. EISENBERG, E. (2012), The Pottery of Strata 18–17 (Middle Bronze Age), in: A. DE GROOT/H. BERNICK-GREENBERG (eds.), Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, Vol. VIIB: Area E. The Finds (Qedem 54), Jerusalem, 251–301. FAUST, A./WEISS, E. (2005), Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World: Reconstructing the Economic System of the Seventh Century BCE, BASOR 338, 71–92. FINKELSTEIN, I. (2008), The Settlement History of Jerusalem in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries BC, RB 115, 499–515. FINKELSTEIN, I./KOCH, I./LIPSCHITS, O. (2011), The Mound on the Mount: A Solution to the “Problem with Jerusalem”?, JHS 11, Article 12. GADOT, Y. (2015), “In the Valley of the King”: Jerusalem’s Rural Hinterland in the 8th–4th Centuries BCE, TA 42(1), 3–26. GADOT, Y./UZIEL, J. (2017), The Monumentality of Iron Age Jerusalem Prior to the 8th Century BCE, TA 44(2), 123–140. GEVA, H. (2003), Summary and Discussion of Findings from Areas A, W and X-2, in: H. GEVA, (ed.), Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969– 1982, Vol. 2: The Finds from Areas A, W and X–2. Final Report, Jerusalem, 501–552. GEVA, H. (2014), Jerusalem’s Population in Antiquity: A Minimalist View, TA 41(2), 131–160. GEVA, H./DE GROOT, A. (2017), The City of David is Not on the Temple Mount After All, IEJ 67(1), 32–49. GEVA, H./YEZERSKI, I./GUTFELD, O. (2018), A Composite Iron Age II Clay Figurine from the Jewish Quarter Excavations, Jerusalem, in: J. UZIEL et al., New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region 12, Jerusalem, 47–55. HARDIN, J.W. (2014), Judah during the Iron Age II Period, in: M.L. STEINER/A.E. Killebrew (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of the Levant c. 8000–332 BCE, Oxford, 743–756. KLETTER, R. (1996), The Judean Pillar-Figurines and the Archaeology of Asherah (BARIS 636), Oxford. KLETTER, R. (1999), Pots and Polities: Material Remains of Late Iron Age Judah in Relation to Its Political Borders, BASOR 314, 19–54. KNAUF, E.A. (2001), Hezekiah or Manasseh?: A Reconsideration of the Siloam Tunnel and Inscription, TA 28(2), 281–287. LIPSCHITS, O. (2018), The Age of Empires: History and Administration in Judah in Light of the Stamped Jar Handles (between the 8th and the 2nd Centuries BCE), Jerusalem (Hebrew). MAEIR, A.M. (ed.) (2012), Tell es-Safi/Gath I: Report on the 1996–2005 Seasons (ÄAT 69), Wiesbaden. MAEIR, A.M./SHAI, I. (2016), Reassessing the Character of the Judahite Kingdom: Archaeological Evidence for Non-Centralized, Kinship-Based Components, in: S. GANOR et al. (eds.), From Sha‘ar Hagolan to Shaaraim: Essays in Honor of Prof. Yosef Garfinkel, Jerusalem, 323–340. MARDER, O./KHALAILY, H. (2004), New Epipaleolithic Sites in Jerusalem and the Judean Hills, in: E. BARUCH/A. FAUST (eds.), New Studies in Jerusalem, Vol. 10, Ramat Gan, 7–10.

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MAZAR, A. (2006), Jerusalem in the 10th Century B.C.E: The Glass Half Full, in: Y. AMIT et al. (eds.), Essays on Ancient Israel in Its Near Eastern Context: A Tribute to Nadav Na’aman, Winona Lake, 255–272. MAZAR, E. (2007), Preliminary Report on the 2005 Excavations at the City of David Visitor’s Center Area, Jerusalem. MAZAR, E./MAZAR, B. (1989), Excavations in the South of the Temple Mount: The Ophel of Biblical Jerusalem (Qedem 29), Jerusalem. MCKINNY, C./DAGAN A. (2013), The Explorations of Tel Burna, PEQ 145, 294–305. MCKINNY, C. et al. (2018), Illuminating a Canaanite and Judahite Town: The Archaeological Background of Tel Burna, in: T. CHAI/D. JOHNSON (eds.), The Old Testament in Theology and Teaching: Essays in Honor of Kay Fountain, Eugene, 49–68. MENDEL-GEBEROVICH, A./CHALAF, O./UZIEL, J. (2020), The People behind the Stamps: A NewlyFound Group of Bullae and a Seal from the City of David, Jerusalem, BASOR 384 (Online) https://doi.org/10.1086/710385. NA’AMAN, N. (2007), When and How Did Jerusalem Become a Great City?: The Rise of Jerusalem as Judah’s Premier City in the Eighth–Seventh Centuries BCE, BASOR 341, 21–56. NA’AMAN, N. (2013), The Kingdom of Judah in the 9th Century BCE: Text Analysis versus Archaeological Research, TA 40(2), 247–276. NAMDAR, D. et al. (2017), The Social and Economic Complexity of Ancient Jerusalem as Seen through Choices in Lighting Oils, Archaeometry 60(3), 571–593. ORENDI, A. et al. (2017), The Agricultural Landscape of Tel Burna: Ecology and Economy of a Bronze Age/Iron Age Settlement in the Southern Levant, Journal of Landscape Ecology 10(3), 165–188. RAINEY, A.F./NOTLEY, R.S. (2006), The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World, Jerusalem. RE’EM, A. (2018), The Qishle Excavation in the Old City of Jerusalem, Jerusalem. REGEV, J. et al. (2017), Absolute Dating of the Gihon Spring Fortifications, Jerusalem, Radiocarbon 59(4), 1171–1193. REICH, R. (2011), Excavating the City of David: Where Jerusalem’s History Began, Jerusalem. REICH, R./SHUKRON, E. (2008), The Date of City Wall 501 in Jerusalem, TA 35(1), 114‒121. REICH, R./SHUKRON, E. (2010), A New Segment of the Middle Bronze Fortification in the City of David, TA 37(2), 141‒153. REICH, R./SHUKRON, E./LERNAU, O. (2007), Recent Discoveries in the City of David, Jerusalem, IEJ 57, 153–169. RIEHL, S./SHAI, I. (2015), Supra-Regional Trade Networks and the Economic Potential of Iron Age II Sites in the Southern Levant, Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 3, 525–533 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jasrep.2015.08.004. SAPIR-HEN, L./UZIEL, J./CHALAF, O. (forthcoming), Everything but the Oink: On the Discovery of an Articulated Pig in Iron Age Jerusalem and it’s Meaning to Judahite Consumption Practices, NEA. SCHMITT, R. (2014), Typology of Iron Age Cult Places, in: R. ALBERTZ/R. SCHMITT (eds.), Family and Household Religion in Ancient Israel and the Levant, Winona Lake, 220–244. SHAI, I. (2017), Tel Burna: A Judahite Fortified Town in the Shephelah, in: O. LIPSCHITS/A.M. MAEIR (eds.), The Shephelah during the Iron Age: Recent Archaeological Studies, Winona Lake, 45–60. SHAI, I./MAEIR, A.M. (2018), Reassessing the Character of the Judahite centralized Kingdom: An Updated Archaeological View, The Highland’s Depth, Ephraim Range and Benjamin Research Studies 7, 115–131 (Hebrew). SHAI, I./MCKINNY, C./UZIEL, J. (2015), Late Bronze Age Cultic Activity in Ancient Canaan: A View from Tel Burna, BASOR 374, 115–33. SHAI, I./UZIEL, J. (2014), Addressing Survey Methodology in the Southern Levant: Applying Different Methods for the Survey of Tel Burna, Israel, IEJ 64, 172–190. SHAI, I. et al. (2012), The Fortifications at Tel Burna: Date, Function and Meaning. IEJ 62(2), 141– 157.

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SHAI, I. et al. (2014), A Private Stamped Seal Handle from Tell Bornāṭ/Tē ̣l Burnā, Israel, ZDPV 130(2), 121–137. SHAI, I. et al. (2015), Tel Burna in the Iron Age II: A Western Border City of the Kingdom of Judah, Judea and Samaria Studies 24, 27–34 (Hebrew). SHAI, I. et al. (2018), Trade and Exchange in the Southern Levant in the 13th Century BCE: A View from Tel Burna, a Town in the Shephelah, Israel, in: A.R. CRUZ/J.F. GIBAJA BAO (eds.), Interchange in Pre- and Protohistory: Case Studies in Iberia, Romania, Turkey, and Israel, Oxford, 177– 183. SHALOM, N. et al. (2019), How is a City Destroyed?: New Archaeological Data of the Babylonian Campaign to Jerusalem, in: O. PELEG-BARKAT et al. (eds.), New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region: Collected Papers, Vol. 13, Jerusalem, 229–248. SHILOH, Y. (1984), Excavations at the City of David, Vol. I: 1978‒1982. Interim Report of the First Five Seasons (Qedem 19), Jerusalem. ŠMEJDA, L. et al. (2017), Ancient Settlement Activities as Important Sources of Nutrients (P, K, S, Zn and Cu) in Eastern Mediterranean Ecosystems – The Case of Biblical Tel Burna, Israel, Catena 156 (2017), 62–73 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.catena.2017.03.024. STEINER, M.L. (2001), Excavations by Kathleen M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. III, Sheffield. STEINER, M.L. (2003), The Evidence from Kenyon’s Excavations in Jerusalem: A Response Essay, in: A.G. VAUGHN/A.E. KILLEBREW (eds.), Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period (SBL – Symposium Series 18), Atlanta, 347–364. SURIANO, M./SHAI, I./UZIEL, J. (in press), In Search of Libnah, JNES. SZANTON, N. et al. (2019), Pontius Pilate and the Monumental Street from the Siloam Pool to the Temple Mount, TA 46(2), 147–166. TAPPY, R.E. (2008), Historical and Geographical Notes on the “Lowland Districts” of Judah in Joshua xv 33–47, VT 58, 381–403. USSISHKIN, D. (2016), Was Jerusalem a Fortified Stronghold in the Middle Bronze Age?: An Alternative View, Levant 48, 135–151. UZIEL, J./BARUCH, Y./SZANTON, N. (2019), Jerusalem in the Late Bronze Age – The Glass Half Full, in: A.M. MAEIR/I. SHAI/C. MCKINNY (eds.), The Late Bronze and Early Iron Ages of Southern Canaan (Archaeology of the Biblical World 2), Berlin, 171–184. UZIEL J./SHAI I. (2007), Iron Age Jerusalem: Temple-Palace, Capital City, JAOS 127(2), 161–170. UZIEL J./SHAI I. (2010), The Settlement History of Tel Burna: Results of the Surface Survey, TA 37(2), 227–245. UZIEL, J./SZANTON, N. (2015), Recent Excavations Near the Gihon Spring and Their Reflection on the Character of Iron II Jerusalem, TA 42(2), 233–250. UZIEL, J./SZANTON, N. (2017), New Evidence of Jerusalem’s Urban Development in the 9th Century BCE, in: O. LIPSCHITS/Y. GADOT/M.J. ADAMS (eds.), Rethinking Israel: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Ancient Israel in Honor of Israel Finkelstein, Winona Lake, 429–439. VAKNIN, Y. et al. (2020), The Earth’s Magnetic Field in Jerusalem during the Babylonian Destruction: A Unique Reference for Field Behavior and an Anchor for Archaeomagnetic Dating, PLoS ONE 15(8), e0237029 https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0237029. VINCENT, H. (1911), Underground Jerusalem: Discoveries on the Hill of Ophel (1909–1911), London. WATSON, J.C.E. (2002), The Phonology and Morphology of Arabic, Oxford. ZADOK, R. (2009), Philistian Notes I, UF 41, 659–688.

DEI Excavations on the Southwestern Slope of Mount Zion Dieter Vieweger and Jennifer Zimni 1. Introduction While today Mount Zion lies to the southwest of Jerusalem’s old city just outside the city’s walls built during the Ottoman era, the inclusion of Mount Zion into Jerusalem’s fortification is a development that occurred and reoccurred several times during the last few centuries. These adaptions include the earliest course of the potential Iron Age city wall in the Mount Zion area. However, the location of an Iron Age city wall has not been fully confirmed by archaeological evidence.1

Fig. 1: Overview of the DEI excavation areas on Mount Zion (© DEI Jerusalem). 1

For discussion see GEVA 2003:504–517.

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During the Hasmonean/Herodian era, the walls of the city extended along Mount Zion’s slopes towards Hinnom Valley.2 With the rise of Christianity in Late-Roman and Byzantine times, Mount Zion became the home of several Christian rites and shrines. Therefore, city walls once again encircled the southwestern hill. 3 As the excavation areas of the DEI’s “Mount Zion Project” are located on said southwestern slopes of Mount Zion (fig. 1), this article shall give a short overview of the results so far. The archaeological research in the Anglican-Prussian Cemetery4 started with Henry Maudsley, which was then followed by the work of Charles Warren and Charles W. Wilson.5 Henry Maudsley investigated the rock-scarp alongside the southwestern hill from 1873 to 1874. His research also included the property of the Bishop Gobat School (today: Jerusalem University College). Lieut. Claude R. Conder summarized Maudsley’s findings in his report to the Palestine Exploration Fund in 1875.6 There, he correctly concluded that the hewn section of rock scarp along the perimeter of the Gobat School and the cemetery must have been part of the foundation of the historic fortification of Jerusalem. A double-miqveh situated in proximity of the rock scarp has been cleaned, documented and mapped. It is being restored currently (2019–2021).7 Charles Warren and Charles W. Wilson examined the rock cut steps along the northern border of the cemetery on behalf of the Ordnance Survey. At the end of the 19th century the archaeologist Frederick J. Bliss explored the area together with the architect Archibald C. Dickie. They tied this in with the previous results of Maudsley and continued following the hewn rock scarp. During their excavations, Bliss and Dickie discovered a tower,8 a dry-moat,9 a gate and its surrounding walls10 as well as some sections of the wall connecting these elements.11 At that time, Bliss and Dickie claimed to have found the city wall erected by Empress Eudocia (approximately 400–460 CE).12 As of 2015, excavations carried out by the DEI continued in the area adjacent to the city wall and beyond the gate, to reveal more of the Hellenistic, Early Roman, Byzantine and Early Islamic buildings as well as installations inside the ancient city walls of Jerusalem. The largest one, Area I, was located south of the Anglican-Prussian cemetery’s border. Area II, now refilled, can be found on the plateau of Mount Zion in the area of the so-called Greek Garden. Area III is situated in the northern part of the AnglicanProtestant Cemetery itself. 2

They were subject of intense exploration during the campaign in 2020. Built either during the fourth century CE or by Empress Eudocia in the fifth century CE. 4 For a brief history of the cemetery see SCHULTZ 1998. 5 WILSON 1865:61. 6 CONDER 1875. 7 THIERRY/VIEWEGER 2019. 8 DEI Area III. 9 DEI Area III. 10 DEI Area I. 11 BLISS 1898:pl. I. 12 BLISS 1894:254. 3

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2. Area I Bliss and Dickie explored the area by tunneling along the rock scarp as well as digging shafts. Assuming there must be a gate somewhere within the excavated wall, they continued their excavation by following the remains of a street with a sewage channel running underneath until they finally came upon a gate and the remnants of fortification walls.13 The gate featured three distinct phases of construction for which the earliest might be dated to Herodian times and the latest into the Byzantine era.14 Following the descriptions of Flavius Josephus, Bliss and Dickie identified the found gate as the “Gate of the Essenes”15 – a view challenged various times but largely accepted today.16 Almost a century later (between 1977 and 1988) Bargil Pixner, a monk of the nearby Dormition-Abbey, reinvestigated the area around the gate.17 Based on the name “Gate of the Essenes” he developed a theory of a “Quarter of the Essenes” situated close to this gate. As there is no archaeological evidence of a “Quarter of the Essenes,” Pixner’s theory of an Essenes Quarter is widely rejected by scholars today. After investigating Pixner’s theory regarding the Essenes, the biggest challenge today is dating the earliest wall. According to Pixner, the older structure had been built by King Hezekiah at the end of the eight century BCE (cf. Isa 22:9–10). The methods used by Pixner to excavate the wall, thought to be built by King Hezekiah, did not provide the necessary information for securely dating this earliest wall. In summer 2020 the DEI carried out a campaign focusing on the investigation of the earliest wall. The other excavated city walls with the tower also feature various phases of construction. The main part of the wall, which is still visible today, dates to the Byzantine period as documented by Bliss and Dickie. Based on this assumption, Yehiel Zelinger managed to trace the ancient city wall along the slopes of Hinnom Valley to the south of the Maʿale HaShalom. He dates his findings mostly into Hasmonean/Herodian and Byzantine times.18 Since 2015 the DEI, under the direction of Dieter Vieweger, has been working along the slopes of the southwestern hill of Jerusalem. The first campaign focused on cleaning, documenting and reinterpreting the old excavation.19 In 2015 the gate, walls and the tower were visible again (fig. 2). In 2016 the adjacent neighborhood to the east was investigated for the first time (fig. 3). The squares were supervised by Katja Soennecken (2015–2016), Friederike Schöpf (2016–2019), and Jennifer Zimni (2018 ff.). The excavation campaigns revealed remains from the Iron Age up to the Later Islamic period (fig. 5).

13

BLISS 1894; 1895; 1896 and 1898. PALMBERGER/VIEWEGER 2015. 15 Josephus, Bell. V:142–145. 16 KÜCHLER 2014:442–446. 17 PIXNER 1976; 1997; PIXNER et al. 1989. 18 ZELINGER 2010. 19 PALMBERGER/VIEWEGER 2015:201–207. 14

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Fig. 2: Gate area with fortification walls and a tower (© DEI Jerusalem).

Fig. 3: Aerial view of excavation Area I, at the end of 2019 (© DEI Jerusalem).

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2.1 Iron Age No actual architectural remains can be dated to the Iron Age, except for the wall already mentioned by Pixner, whose dating is not secure.20 During his excavation, the entire filling of the wall was taken out. Unfortunately, he did not publish his finds. Archaeologically, this limits the ability to accurately date the walls to the Iron Age II. However, the massive amount of pottery sherds discovered dating to Iron Age II suggest some kind of activity at Area I during this period.

Fig. 4: Overview of the Hellenistic fortification wall (© DEI Jerusalem).

20

CHEN/MARGALIT/PIXNER 1994.

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Fig. 5: Plan of Area I, at the end of 2019 (© DEI Jerusalem).

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2.2 Hellenistic/Hasmonean Structures Pixner already assumed a Hasmonaean existing wall which had been broken through in order to build the oldest (Early Roman) sill for the gate.21 The context northeast of the city wall clearly shows another wall made of massive ashlars, smaller stones and the bedrock (fig. 4). The wall structure is comparable to other fortification walls – especially to the building structure as well as the ashlars of Samaria/Sebaste from the late fourth century BCE – hinting towards a Hellenistic dating of the wall.22 The course of the wall integrates the worked bedrock into its structure and moreover follows the natural line of the bedrock in its own alignment. Parts of this wall were taken and reused when the area became a garbage dump during the Late Roman era. Some of the ashlars from the Hellenistic wall are in secondary use as seen in the foundation of the Early Roman floor layers. A dating of the Hellenistic wall to the pre-Early Roman period therefore is likely. The stepped bedrock in the center of Area I might also date to Hellenistic times. It runs from north to south with steps of 0.5–0.7 m in height cut into the rock. Its northern edge was remodeled later (either Roman or Byzantine times). Due to a lack of any further archaeological evidence its exact dating will remain uncertain; however, the stepped bedrock must be part of a building dating prior to the Roman street as no recognizable architectural connection between the northern edge of the stepped bedrock and the Roman street can be made. Three ashlar blocks aligning to the bedrock may be part of this building’s wall, running from north to south and continuing to the south as a separate wall.23 2.3 Roman 2.3.1 Early Roman Corresponding to the strata containing the Early Roman gate, there is a street leading from the gate in a northeastern direction, towards the inner city of Jerusalem, approximately 0.8 m below the Byzantine houses. Some parts of the street, as well as the area connected to the gate, were excavated by Bliss and Dickie24 as well as by Pixner.25 Its original width cannot be determined, as Byzantine houses have been partially built over it. There are large stone slabs functioning as walking level of the street as well as cover for the drainage channel below (fig. 5). Some of the slabs have been removed or destroyed, creating a hole – for example, the area below Byzantine Room C. It is possible that these stone slabs were removed by rebels hiding underground from the Romans in 70 CE.26 The same can be observed in the stepped street north the Siloam Pools.27

21

CHEN/MARGALIT/PIXNER 1994:79. The parts of the wall excavated by Bargil Pixner were interpreted as early Hasmonean structures as well. However, no archaeological material is known. 23 Context 10688. 24 BLISS 1898. 25 PIXNER et al. 1989. 26 Josephus, Bell VI:370–371. 27 REICH/SHUKRON 2019:82–83. 22

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Fig. 6: Early Roman miqveh (© DEI Jerusalem).

The Roman strata southeast of the Byzantine channel system continue underneath the Byzantine channel system and consist of material remains including many pieces of pottery, bones and metal objects. On the chalk floor, a broken cooking pot was found in situ, dating to the first half of the first century CE.28

28

TCHEKHANOVETS 2013.

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One of the Roman channels29 leads into the wall and ends at the ritual stepped pool (miqveh), supplying it with water (fig. 6). The miqveh was cut into the bedrock with steps of approximately 0.4 m in height, leading down and eastward. When the miqveh went out of use, its entrance was remodeled to serve as an entrance for the Byzantine Room B. Due to the boundaries of the excavation area, the full extent of the miqveh could not be excavated. The 14C dating hints towards a re-use of this area in Byzantine times. The large amount of amphora sherds as well as the archaeobotanical results suggest that the former miqveh was used as a storage room by Byzantine inhabitants. A limited amount of architectural remains from this period were excavated, although the Byzantines reused several earlier structures.30 Additionally, in the aerial view (fig. 3), the Early Roman layout appears to be cut into the bedrock and gets more obvious with several (at least two) buildings which line the street in a way that is common to the Roman period. 2.3.2 Late Roman The Late Roman strata are characterized mainly by filled layers,31 as well as a massive garbage dump. The garbage debris lies underneath the Byzantine strata east of the city wall. The earth of the dump was organic, containing many bones, coal and burnt material. The pottery suggests that the garbage was dumped during the Late Roman period and sealed in the time of the foundation of the “Eudocia wall” next to it. Several chalk layers run through the layers of garbage. Towards the southeast, the dump is interrupted by stone debris consisting of ashlars, big stones and mid-sized stones. There was no city wall in use during that time. After the destruction of 70 CE the city was deserted until around 135 CE. The city founded by Hadrian was named Aelia Capitolina. The destiny of Mount Zion at this time is not quite clear. The only architectural remain which can be assigned to the Late Roman period is the middle sill of the gate. Pixner, Chen and Margalit found one coin dating to Aelia Capitolina (Emperor Elagabalus (218–222 CE)) in the filling related to this sill.32 Additionally, the DEI found two other coins dating to the period of Aelia Capitolina in Area I. Further, a few tiles with stamps of the Legio X fretensis were found, as well as several pottery vessels which can be dated from 70 CE until the fourth century CE. In the filling of Byzantine Room D, the fragment of an inscription (fig. 7) was found. According to Werner Eck it describes the cursus honorum of a man of senatorial rank, making it the only inscription of this kind in Jerusalem found so far.33 All these finds suggest some kind of activity during this period on Mount Zion’s southern slope.

29

Context 10671. E.g., wall 10700. 31 Southwest of wall 10070. 32 PIXNER/CHEN/MARGALIT 1989:87. 33 ECK/VIEWEGER/ZIMNI 2020. 30

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Fig. 7: Fragment of an inscription describing the cursus honorum of a man of senatorial rank (© DEI Jerusalem).

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2.4 Byzantine During the middle of the fifth century CE, Mount Zion became a flourishing center of Christianity and a destination for Christian pilgrimages, due to the erection of the church Hagia Sion and the associated Christian traditions. The Byzantine strata and the rest of a terracing wall east of the city’s wall represent the first phase of Byzantine building activity. These were built after the erection of the Byzantine city wall during the fourth century CE or under Empress Eudocia which includes the Byzantine gate sill,34 to ensure the level of the newly built structures remained equal to the gate. Between the gate area and the adjacent living quarter, a system of water channels was excavated (fig. 8). The Byzantine channels were generally built from fieldstones and worked stones of different sizes and include also some stones in secondary use. These water channels formed a system of wastewater drainage and fresh water supply from and towards the area. All in all, two different housing complexes, consisting of the Rooms A to I, were excavated and dated to the fifth and sixth centuries CE. The terminus post quem relies on a find of a stamped foot of an Amphora which was set directly into the mortar of Room C as well as on a bronze oil lamp hanger (see below, Room E). Generally speaking, the Byzantine structures were built on former Roman structures or on natural bedrock. Rooms C and D were built directly above the Roman street using it as a foundation. Whereas the Roman street was reused as the foundation for Rooms C and D, its large drainage channel was still used by the Byzantine inhabitants to pour their wastewater out of the city. The area between the street and the floor (approximately 0.8 m) was filled with stones, loose rubble and dirt. Much of the architecture in the southeastern part of the site, such as Rooms G, H and I was destroyed by Islamic terracing walls. There is evidence for additional rooms in the east of Area I. In the earth layers covering the Roman street, large amounts of loose tesserae and pieces of mosaic (white and colored) have been found; however, these additional rooms were completely destroyed by a later Islamic terracing wall. 2.4.1 Room A Room A reuses an Early Roman wall35 by attaching smaller field stones covered with a well-preserved plaster to the larger Roman ashlars. The plaster on the walls is perforated in order to apply another layer of decorated plaster. Below the room a rectangular shaped cistern with almost intact plaster was built. It was fed by rainwater collected by imbrex tiles from the roof. Furthermore, the cistern was enclosed by a wall during the Early Islamic period. Later, the enclosed area around the cistern was filled in with earth from the entrance of the cistern to the height of the surrounding walls (approximately 0.7 m).

34 35

PIXNER et al. 1989:86. Context 10070.

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The well head of the cistern corresponds with the floor level of this room. The floor of Room A consisted of beaten earth and pebbles with probably a simple, white mosaic floor on top. The floor showed traces of burning and destruction around the enclosed cistern which included traces of ash, charcoal and many iron nails. Based on the contents found in the burnt area of the floor, it is most likely from a burnt wooden roof that collapsed to the floor.

Fig. 8: System of channels of different periods (© DEI Jerusalem).

2.4.2 Room B South of Room A is Room B, which also reuses the Roman structures. The walls were covered with plaster as well. The room had an arched which seem to have collapsed in some kind of fire. Some mosaic remains were found in situ on the floor level. This provides a hint towards the simple white mosaic once covering the floor. A clay pipe coming from the roof leads rainwater into a small channel underneath floor level which ends into a small settling basin. This brought the water into a cistern, below Room B. The cistern expands to the south shaped like a pear and runs parallel to the cistern underneath Room A. After its use as a water cistern, it was probably used as a trash dump, as it was found filled with a massive amount of bones, stone artefacts and organic earth.

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Another feature in Room B was a chalk plastered installation which was enclosed by worked stones and possibly used as food storage.36 2.4.3 Room E Room E is directly attached to Room B in the south, with a slightly higher floor level. Both rooms are separated by a wall. The floor in Room E is made of paved stones and boarders on the eastern side to a roughly worked wall, previously mentioned as a possible Hellenistic wall.37 The dating of the room into the fifth or sixth centuries CE was demonstrated by the sealed finding of a metal oil lamp holder underneath, in Room E’s floor. The metal holder found in Room E is comparable to the bronze hangers found in a monastery at Beth-Shean.38

Fig. 9: Room C, at the end of 2017 (© DEI Jerusalem).

2.4.4 Room C Room C, built upon the Roman road, is confined in the northwest and northeast by plastered walls of large fieldstones and worked stones (fig. 9). The plaster is incised similarly to that seen in Room A and possibly used as ground for an additional layer of 36

Context 10477. Context 10688. 38 FITZGERALD 1939:pl. III. 37

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colorful plaster. The room’s southern expansion cannot be clarified, as the southeastern room walls have been destroyed by later structures.39 It can be said with certainty that it stretched further due south in Byzantine times. Inside the room, a corner was excavated showing that this room was possibly subdivided into smaller sections. A white mosaic floor covered the room’s floor in the Byzantine period. Northwest of Room C, attached to its northwestern wall, a plastered channel40 was discovered. This transfers its contents from west to east leading towards the gate area. This is probably a Byzantine channel draining the inhabitants’ wastewater through the gate towards the Hinnom Valley. 2.4.5 Further Rooms (Rooms D, F–I) Towards the east of Area I are five other Byzantine rooms, of which many of the remains are not visible (fig. 5). To the east of Room C is Room D. Room D is nearly rectangularly shaped. It seems to be connected to Room C, but due to recent disturbances by Bliss and Dickie,41 the connecting wall could not be excavated. The northeastern part of the room is confined by a thick wall consisting of large worked stones, probably forming an outer house wall. In the southeast, the hewn bedrock forms the foundation for the room’s wall. The northwestern wall features a plastered water channel running into the Roman drainage channel. Although not a lot of architectural remains in Room F could be excavated, the layout of the bedrock with the remains of a mosaic bedding southeast of Room D suggest that another room must have been there. No building material, except for a line of the cut bedrock, remained of Room G. The room’s main feature is a rock-cut channel42 leading into the Roman drainage channel. The channel itself cannot be dated certainly to the Byzantine period as it might derive from an Early Roman building. South of Room G, the sediments consisted of tiny potsherds mixed with brown-reddish sediments, forming the substructure of a floor level. A part of the floor could be excavated in the southern part of Room G adjoining the excavation border. East of Room G are Rooms H and I. They are separated by a plastered wall which connects them to the worked bedrock in the north. Room H is approximately 1.3 m wide; the southeastern expansion could not be determined due to later destructions. It was covered with a mosaic floor (fig. 10)43 whose colorful tesserae were not set in a decorative pattern. The adjoining bedrock in the north was used as a room wall and held the remains of incised plaster similar to Room C.

39

Mainly by an Early Islamic lime kiln 10259. Context 10513. 41 BLISS 1895:253. 42 Context 10610. 43 Context 10500. 40

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Further east, in Room I, the remaining white mosaic floor (fig. 10) measures approximately 0.9 x 0.4 m. Another piece of the mosaic floor44 suggests that the mosaic floor was once decorated with a repetitive floral pattern. Presumably, the room could be entered from the north as there was a threshold cut into the rock north of the room which could serve as an entrance and very likely was already in use during the Roman period.

Fig. 10: Mosaic floors of Rooms H and I (© DEI Jerusalem).

2.5 Islamic 2.5.1 Umayyad Era The Early Islamic strata consists mostly of fill layers, reuses of the Byzantine structures and minor building activity. The Byzantine Rooms A and B were filled in. Small channels and – mainly straight – chalk floors, with no additional structures attached, were built on top of the fill. Only the Byzantine cistern was enclosed by a small wall during the Islamic period, suggesting a reuse of the cistern in the eighth century CE. The walls around the cistern enabled the inhabitants to reach the cistern and keep it clean for use. The floor level during this period was 0.7 m higher than it was during Byzantine times. An early Islamic lime kiln was built adjoining the eastern wall of the Byzantine Room A, destroying a white Byzantine mosaic floor. The lime kiln has a round shape with a diameter of 2.2 m and a depth of 1.8 m. The kiln cannot be dated with certainty, although the 14C dating hints towards the end of the Umayyad period or shortly after.

44

Context 10694.

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During that time, the living quarter was not inhabited and was transformed into an industrial quarter.45 2.5.2 Late Islamic A striking architectural feature in the Late Islamic period, which was removed, were two terracing walls built of field stones running from northeast to southwest across the site (fig. 11). They corresponded with plastered floor levels, leveling the ground. Furthermore, another wall can be dated into the Islamic era due to surrounding pottery finds. Running from east to west, it consists of unworked stone as well as a re-used column with sand filled in between. No further architectural connections are recognizable here.

Fig. 11: Later Islamic terracing wall (© DEI Jerusalem).

3. Area II On the plateau of Mount Zion, to the south of the Dormition Abbey, the Tomb of David and the Coenaculum, lies a patch of land called the Greek Garden. Here, the DEI started excavating under the direction of Dieter Vieweger with the permission of the Greek Orthodox Patriarch Theophilos III in 2017, while Katja Soennecken conducted the research in the Hasmonean/Herodian levels. In 2018, the DEI opened another area (fig. 12), supervised by Michael Würz of approximately 150 m2, immediately north of the excavation, on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority (Amit Re’em and Neria Sapir). 45

The same happens in the area south of the Temple Mount (BEN-AMI/TCHEKHANOVETS 2019).

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The excavated area is situated below a soccer field, built in the 1970s. After modern layers and below mounds of debris and waste of the Mamluk and Ottoman eras were excavated. But the most striking discovery was a richly adorned Byzantine building. Although much of the original building material was missing, the layout was still very obvious. Outstanding was a well-preserved mosaic, which was a testament of the formerly rich interior. Earlier archaeological research along rock-scarp, including the southern brink of the Greek Garden, is summarized in Lt. Claude R. Conder’s report, as mentioned above. Fifteen to twenty feet of the face of the worked rock-scarp and the bases of at least two towers were well visible during his visits.46

Fig. 12: Plan of Area II (© DEI Jerusalem).

46

CONDER 1872.

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Today, a modern fieldstone wall is in the place of the ancient city wall and confines the Anglican-Prussian Cemetery towards the Greek Garden. The southern part of the area was levelled during the 1970’s, using massive amounts of debris, to accommodate a soccer field. Lt. Conder’s report includes several structures above the rock-scarp, such as cisterns and a lime kiln.1 To the east, above the miqvaot in the Anglican-Prussian cemetery,2 Conder’s map shows a rectangular structure, marked as massive wall – that until today projects from the debris. Inspected and described by Fr. F.-M. Abél in 1911,3 those walls mostly consist of reused stones, including stone slabs formerly used as road paving. On top of those walls, the remains of a mosaic floor, likely Byzantine, can still be seen. One of the cornerstones is turned in a way so that it allows to enter a cavity below the walls. In order to examine the structure described by Abél and its further extension to the north, the Israel Antiquities Authority conducted a small excavation led by Amit Re’em and Neria Sapir. A first small test trench along the southern edge revealed mostly modern and medieval layers covering the remains of the Byzantine era. 3.1 The Upper Layers The layer following the topsoil consists of modern building debris and was brought there during the 1970s as foundation for the soccer field by the Greek-Orthodox Church. Underneath the debris lies the first strata containing archaeological relevant finds in form of medieval debris and waste. In these sections the different size garbage mounds4 become clearly visible (fig. 13). The debris consist of mixed material, from Byzantine sherds and tesserae, to Mamluk sherds and small-sized gravel. Also, some Ottoman remains have been discovered, although very few in comparison to the earlier material. Precisely dating the time of deposition is not possible. The few finds from the Ottoman era again merely present a terminus ante quem. Below the medieval debris several compact loamy layers5 covered the remains of a Byzantine building, of which most building material had been removed for further building activities in antiquity, leaving mostly the bare worked bedrock. The layers likely accumulated during and after the removal of the building material and before the medieval debris had been deposited. The bedrock had been shaped, to a certain extent, to provide level foundations for walls and installations, surfaces for floors or basins for water storage, yet it remains unclear whether all preparation of the rock are Byzantine time or of an earlier date. In at least two instances, the remains of the Byzantine occupation do not align with the preparations of the bedrock, suggesting the possibility that some preparations of the rock might be older than the superimposed building – and the same can be observed in Area I. The bedrock in this area is the cenomanian limestone typical of Jerusalem. Several cavities are known throughout the Greek Garden, most likely natural caves, some of which later have been remodeled to be used as cisterns. Towards the rock-scarp along the southern edge of the garden the bedrock becomes 1

CONDER 1875. VIEWEGER/THIERRY 2019. 3 ABÉL 1911. 4 Context 2018GG7. 5 Context 2018GG23. 2

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more irregular before dropping into the so-called rock-scarp. As we will see below, the irregularity of the rock towards the south made a different construction necessary during Byzantine times.

Fig. 13: Medieval debris and waste in Area II (© DEI Jerusalem).

3.2 Courtyard The east of the excavation is taken up by what seems to have been an open space, most likely a courtyard (fig. 12). Several installations for water supply have been hewn into the bedrock. At the northern end of the chamber a niche opens to the west, its floor raised to a bench. Just south of the cistern’s mouth, a small channel6 emerges from the eastern section, continuing in a southwestern direction. It seems plausible that the small channel ran across the open space providing water for all cisterns, acting as an overflow channel when a reservoir was filled, and conducting the remaining water to the next reservoir. Further to the north of the excavation, at least four more underground cisterns were excavated. Towards the south, the rock becomes more irregular and sloped and needed to be levelled by a bedding layer, consisting of a reddish, loamy soil and fieldstones, up to fist size. On this this layer rested the remains of a floor consisting of multiple layers of gypsum-plaster. There is evidence that, during an earlier phase, the level of the floor was lower and steps7 led into Room III. The floor might have been raised during subsequent repairs.

6 7

Context 2018GG84. Context 2018GG111.

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Fig. 14: Cistern in the northeast of Area II (© DEI Jerusalem).

3.2.1 Room I Room I measures 9.00 m in length and is up to 2.80 m wide. It can be entered from the east through the entrance of which only the foundation for the gate’s sides and a recess for the sill remain. Both are hewn from the rock. On the opposing wall, a hint of a less deep counterpart of a wall can still be recognized in the form of some stones and plaster. The rock cut foundation provides space for a masonry superstructure. Of this, only some plastered remains are preserved along the southern edge of the wall, as well as some stones in the east. Between a recess in the wall and the room’s north-western corner the rock was stepped, which continues further north of the wall. Here, a pear-shaped cistern was cut into the bedrock, approximately 2.50 m deep and 4.00 m wide at the bottom.

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Of the room’s western wall, what might have been the foundation for a rock hewn bench remained. Of the southern wall only the worked bedrock, forming some kind of foundation, remained. About midpoint, a u-shaped groove hewn into the bedrock8 resembles drainages typically found in doors, suggesting an entrance towards Room II. 3.2.2 Room II Rooms II and III are situated to the south of Room I. Both are smaller, taking up the length of Room I. Room II could be accessed from the west where a well-preserved doorsill9 was found in situ. Also, there seems to have been an additional door in the wall10 leading to Room I, which is hinted by a u-shaped groove mentioned above. From the floor of Room II only one square stone slab remains, as does a small portion of the levelling layers. Those levelling layers were more necessary towards the southern parts of the building since the bedrock becomes increasingly irregular here. A basin of a rectangular cistern has been partially unearthed along the southern edge of the excavation (T 3).

Fig. 15: Mosaic of Room III (© DEI Jerusalem). 8

Context 2018GG104. Context 2018GG108. 10 Context 2018GG50. 9

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3.2.3 Room III Room III lies to the east of Room II and it is only accessible via the courtyard. Here, two worked stones lead towards a small annex11 preceding a floor covered by a mosaic (fig. 15) with a repetitive pattern and multiple frames. In the annex, slightly smaller sized tesserae were used to form a floral pattern on a light-colored background, of which only a small part is preserved. The central mosaic consists of white, red and black tesserae. It features a repetitive, floral-geometric pattern. Repeating floral motives form a netting on a white background. Into the squares formed by the netting, floral motives have been set in such a way that they form a cross-like pattern. Multiple frames of floral and geometric patterns surround the inner motive. 3.3 Further Test Trenches In the southeastern corner of the excavation, the bedrock starts sloping more towards the south, making it necessary to erect substructures to support the building. Here, two test trenches have been excavated to explore underlying structures. One trench (T 3) was placed in north-south direction along the eastern edge of Room III. The second, T 4, was placed in west-east direction along the southern edge of Room III. In the test trench along the eastern side of Room III, the remains of an older basin was found below the floor of the courtyard and a channel.12 To support the eastern wall of Room III, a substructure of different sized stones (fig. 16), was constructed in the basin.

Fig. 16: Detail of substructures in the south of Area II (© DEI Jerusalem). 11 12

Context 2018GG111. Context 2018GG84.

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A second test trench (T 4) was excavated along the southern side of Room III in which the continuation of the above-mentioned basin was found. As in the east, a substructure had been constructed in the basin13 to support the southern wall of the room.

Fig. 17: Plan of Area III (© DEI Jerusalem).

4. Area III Area III is located between Areas I and II, on the upper terrace of the cemetery’s extension after 1902/3. To the north, this terrace is confined by the rock-scarp, on which the northern cemetery wall has been erected (fig. 1).14 Just east of the two miqvaot, the wall turns towards the north-east while the rocky outcrop continues roughly in a western direction. Along the edge of the rock, the remains of at least three rooms belonging to an Early Roman housing structure were discovered and all were destroyed by a later dry-moat (fig. 17).15 13

Context 2018GG106. Maudsley had already assumed that the ancient city wall of Jerusalem had been located here (CONDER 1975:81–89). 15 Described by Bliss and Dickie as a “fosse” (BLISS 1894). 14

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Most parts of the rooms are built directly on the bedrock. The latter has been shaped to a certain extent to provide a rather level foundation for walls and installations. These can be dated into the Early Roman Period, especially because of an excavated miqveh connected to one of these rooms. Unfortunately, little is known about the Early Roman inhabitation in the closer vicinity of this area.16 This is why Area III plays an important role to shed light on this period of Mount Zion. It revealed a somehow wealthy population living on the plateau of the southwestern hill. 4.1 Early Roman 4.1.1 Room I From the western Room I, only the northwestern corner remained, due to the destruction by the “fosse.” What is left of the northern wall consists of cut bedrock which served as a foundation for the masonry superstructure. In the western part of the wall are the remains of an inflow cut into the rock.17 In front of the wall, a bench has been carved from the bedrock with a height of about 0.40 m and a depth of 0.40 to 0.68 m. South of this bench, the remains of a stepped miqveh were found. The steps are around 0.34 m deep and 0.30 m high. To the east of the upper step, a threshold carved from rock leads into the adjacent Room II. Of the eastern wall merely a foundation cut out of the rock remained. 4.1.2 Room II In Room II, only the worked bedrock is preserved of the walls. Also, most of the southern part had been destroyed by the fosse. Along the western boundary, two steps were worked out of the rock. The upper one is 0.10 m high, the lower approximately 0.20 m. Remains of red coating or painting have been found on the plaster along the stairs, as well as on the northern and western wall (fig. 18) Originally, the room featured a mosaic floor which is only partially preserved (fig. 19). At the southern edge the remains of a black geometric feature are preserved. Recognizable is an approximately four black tesserae wide, rectangular section. 4.1.3 Room III To the east of Room II, the remains of another room were discovered. Only a small part remained, also due to the cutting of the moat, with some wall plaster remaining along the original rock-cut walls. In front of those two walls, two different masonry structures were set, presumably during different periods. While the older might have been a change of the original structure, the later is similar to the supporting masonry, set into older basins to allow the construction of the Byzantine building in Area II.

16 Excavations by Pixner and Eisenberg were carried out, revealing some Early Roman structures (EISENBERG 1985:33; PIXNER 1991:349). On the eastern slope of Mount Zion remains of Early Roman houses were excavated on behalf of the UNC Charlotte (GIBSON et al. 2019). 17 Width up to 0.2 m tapering down to about 0.09 m. Depth in the upper part about 0.27 m.

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Fig. 18: Remains of a red plaster in Room II (© DEI Jerusalem)

Fig. 19: Mosaic floor in Room II (© DEI Jerusalem).

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4.1.4 Further Trenches In Trench 3 the eastern counterpart of the moat was found. Further, the remains of a staircase carved into the rock were revealed. This cannot be dated with certainty. Following a threshold carved from bedrock, two steps leading down into eastern direction were found, as well as the beginning of either another step or the bottom of a pool. The upper step is 0.37 m deep, the following 0.27 m deep. Next to the staircase, is a channel that has been cut into the rock with a width of approximately 0.14 m. Above the stairs are the remains of a passage. Since the rock is destroyed to the south, only about 0.70 m of this is preserved. 4.2 Ayyubid/Crusader Architecture When Bliss and Dickie investigated the southern slope of Mount Zion, before the extension of the cemetery in 1902, they excavated the remains of a tower of which two rows of masonry were preserved.18 Nearby, they followed the course of a dry moat which they called a “fosse,” whose purpose and dating remained unclear to them.19 Their mapping clearly shows that the moat cuts the former Byzantine line of defense.20 It is not known precisely when the Eudocia wall surrounding Mount Zion went out of use,21 but at least it can be stated that during the Ayyubid period the course of the fortification wall moved closer to today’s city wall, leaving the outermost slopes of Mount Zion outside of the city.22 While the Byzantine wall continued further southeast down the hill towards the Hinnom Valley,23 the Ayyubid fortification of Mount Zion24 turned towards the north at this point. Some remains of the Ayyubid fortification were revealed in 2019 by the DEI. Of the tower mentioned above, the remaining two masonry structures have been uncovered. The hewn and worked blocks had been set onto a foundation consisting of the prepared rock-scarp. The blocks are between 0.90 m and 1.00 m wide and around 0.70 m in height. If bossed, the bosses are up to 0.23 m deep, with margins 0.05 m wide with dented marks. Bliss and Dickie described this style as “pockmarked.”25 Bliss notes in his account that, “Many of the fallen stones, however, show on their drafts the diagonal comb-pick.”26 While Bliss claims that these were usually associated with Crusader times, we know today that they mostly stem from an earlier context, and have been indeed found to being reused already in Byzantine contexts in the DEI’s excavation in the Greek Garden. 18

BLISS 1984:248. BLISS 1898:9ff. 20 BLISS 1894. 21 Whether in the second half of the tenth century CE, in the beginning of eleventh century CE or even at its end (AVNI 2014:117) 22 WIGHTMANN 1993:fig. 85. 23 Visible again in Area I and ZELINGER 2010. 24 WIGHTMANN 1993:fig. 85. 25 BLISS 1894:251. 26 BLISS 1894:251. 19

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The southeastern corner of the tower was built using particular stones cut as cornerstones, sometimes with two faces. While different stones were used, those described by Bliss and Dickie as “pock-marked,” are the ones hinting towards a possible dating of the tower. They can also be found on the still existing remains of the city’s Ayyubid fortification in front the western side of today’s Ottoman fortification. 4.2.1 The Dry Moat or “Fosse”? The dry moat – or what has been described as the “fosse” by Bliss and Dickie – had already been followed by them towards the Tomb of David, then called Nebi Daud.27 An edge in the rock-foundation uncovered nearby the Ayyubid tower, marks the southern end of the dry moat. When exposed by Bliss and Dickie, it measured 16.5 feet in height according to their account.28 Further southeast, the opposite side of the dry moat was exposed. Here, only one, roughly hewn block could be found still resting on the bedrock. From here, the dry moat ran north for some meters until turning towards slightly to the northeast and widening significantly. The western edge of the moat was located north of the tower in Trench 3, where the houses from Roman times had been destroyed during the building process. A small segment of the eastern side of the moat was discovered. In the northwestern corner of the section, the eastern edge of the dry trench was uncovered. 4.2.2 Historic Interpretation The Ayyubids established a defensive line around Jerusalem also including the summit on Mount Zion, most likely as a result of the events and experiences of the First Crusade. In order to forestall any attempt by hostile forces to attack the vulnerable southwestern city wall, Saladin built the city’s fortification on the high summit of the southwestern hill. From here, the lower inner city of Jerusalem was well protected. The dry-moat probably served as an additional defensive element, as well as a quarry for the newly erected city wall. This was described by historical sources, such as the historian Abu Shama (1203–1267).29 The Ayyubid Sultan Muhammed al-Malik al Kamil (Egypt [1218–1238]) faced a challenging situation due to the arrival of Crusader forces (Crusade of Damietta), as he was at war with his nephew An-Nasir who he contested his legacy, the rule of Damascus. Facing the possible surrender of Jerusalem, all of Jerusalem’s fortifications were destroyed in 1219 by the Emir of Syria/Palestine, Malik alMuʿazzam. Jerusalem remained unfortified for a long time. Although the Ayyubids were victorious near Cairo in 1221, Emperor Frederick II soon threatened the Ayyubid Empire in 1228/9. Therefore, in 1227, the sultan renewed his offer from 1219 that he would be willing to return Jerusalem under certain conditions. Both sides compromised on 18th February 1229 in the “Treaty of Jaffa” which returned Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Lydda and Nazareth to the Christians.30 27

BLISS 1894:249. BLISS 1894:251 29 WIGHTMANN 1993:273–274. 30 On 18th of March 1229 Frederick II placed the crown of Jerusalem on his head. 28

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5. Conclusion All in all, the DEI was able to excavate remains of ancient Jerusalem from a long time frame – ranging from (possibly) the Iron Age II until medieval times. The results display how much change the southwestern slope of Mount Zion underwent, in significance and function. Previous excavations were re-analyzed in the light of modern research, as well as new archaeological discoveries were made. The excavations provide proof of a somehow wealthy population all along the southwestern slopes of Mount Zion in the Early Roman period. The inhabitants lived in houses of several rooms with painted walls and colorful mosaics, equipped with several miqvaot. A city gate and a broad street, bordered by houses, suggest a well-planned infrastructure also in this area of the Early Roman Jerusalem. After being barren in the Late-Roman period, Mount Zion once again became a wealthy and flourishing living quarter in Byzantine times. The quarter surrounding the Hagia Sion church was inhabited by wealthy people who could afford large mosaic floors and fine pottery vessels. At some point in the Early Islamic period, this rich living quarter was turned into an industrial quarter for lime production. After leaving the hill outside the walled city in the later stages of the Islamic period, it was not inhabited anymore. Only terracing walls were set upon the ancient remains. Further, the Ayyubid fortification line around Mount Zion could be re-examined.

List of Figures Fig. 1: Overview of the DEI excavation areas on Mount Zion (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 2: Gate area with fortification walls and a tower (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 3: Aerial view of excavation Area I, at the end of 2019 (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 4: Overview of the Hellenistic fortification wall (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 5: Plan of Area I, at the end of 2019 (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 6: Early Roman miqveh (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 7: Fragment of an inscription describing the cursus honorum of a man of senatorial rank (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 8: System of channels of different periods (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 9: Room C, at the end of 2017 (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 10: Mosaic floors of Rooms H and I (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 11: Later Islamic terracing wall (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 12: Plan of Area II (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 13: Medieval debris and waste in Area II (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 14: Cistern in the northeast of Area II (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 15: Mosaic of Room III (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 16: Detail of substructures in the south of Area II (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 17: Plan of Area III (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 18: Remains of a red plaster in Room II (© DEI Jerusalem). Fig. 19: Mosaic floor in Room II (© DEI Jerusalem).

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Bibliography ABEL, F.M. (1911), Petites découvertes au Quartier du Cénacle à Jérusalem, RB 20(1), 119–125. AVNI, G. (2014), The Byzantine-Islamic Transition in Palestine: An Archaeological Approach, Oxford. BEN-AMI, D./TCHEKHANOVETS Y. (2019), The Givati Excavation Project 2007–2015: From the Iron Age to the Early Islamic Period, in: H. GEVA (ed.), Ancient Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeological Discoveries, 1998–2018, Jerusalem, 264–277. BLISS, F.J. (1894), Second Report on the Excavations in Jerusalem, PEF 26, 243–257. BLISS, F.J. (1898), Excavations at Jerusalem 1894–1897, London. CHEN, D./MARGALIT, S./PIXNER, B. (1994), Mount Zion: Discovery of Iron Age Fortifications below the Gate of the Essenes, in: H. GEVA (ed.), Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, Jerusalem, 76–81. CONDER, C.R. (1872), Lieut. Claude R. Conder’s Reports, PEF 4, 153–173. CONDER, C.R. (1875), The Rock Scarp of Zion, PEF 8, 81–89. ECK, W./VIEWEGER, D./ZIMNI, J. (2020), Die Basis einer Ehrenstatue mit dem cursus honorum eines senatorischen Amtsträgers in Jerusalem, ZPE 216, 273–278. EISENBERG, A. (1985), ‫כנסיית הדורמיצון‬, HA-ESI 85, 33. FITZGERALD, G.M. (1936), A Sixth Century Monastery at Beth-Shean (Scythopolis), Philadelphia. GEVA, H. (2003), Summary and Discussions of Findings from Areas A, W and X-2, in: H. GEVA (ed.), Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, Vol. II: The finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Jerusalem, 501–552. GIBSON, S. et al. (2019), New Excavations on Mount Zion, in: H. GEVA (ed.), Ancient Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeological Discoveries, 1998–2018, Jerusalem, 304–313. KÜCHLER, M. (22004), Jerusalem: Ein Handbuch und Studienreiseführer zur Heiligen Stadt (OLB IV/2), Göttingen. PALMBERGER, K./VIEWEGER D (2015)., Die Grabung im Anglikanisch-Preußischen Friedhof auf dem Zionsberg in Jerusalem, ZDPV 131(2), 201–207. PIXNER, B. (1976), An Essene Quarter on Mount Zion?, in: Studia Hierosolymitana, Part I: Archaeological Studies (Studium Biblicum Franciscanum – Collectio Maior 22), Jerusalem, 254–289. PIXNER, B. (1991), Wege des Messias und Stätten der Urkirche, Frankfurt am Main 1991. PIXNER, B. (1997), Jerusalem’s Essene Gateway: Where the Community Lived in Jesus’ Time, BAR 23(3), 22–31.64–67. PIXNER, B./CHEN, D./MARGALIT, S. (1989), Mount Zion: The “Gate of the Essenes” Re-excavated, ZDPV 105, 85–95. REICH, R./SHUKRON, E. (2019), The Second Temple Period Siloam Pool, in: H. GEVA (ed.), Ancient Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeological Discoveries, 1998–2018, Jerusalem, 73–83. SCHULTZ, B. (1998), The Jerusalem Protestant Cemetery on Mount Zion: The Archaeological Remains and the Archaeological-Geographical Contributions of People buried there, Jerusalem. TCHEKHANOVETS, Y. (2013), The Early Roman Pottery, in: D. BEN-AMI (ed.), Jerusalem: Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley, Vol. I (IAA Reports 52), Jerusalem, 109–150. THIERRY, L.-E./VIEWEGER, D. (2019), Die Doppelmiqwen-Anlage im anglikanisch-preußischen Zionsfriedhof von Jerusalem, ZDPV 135(1), 32–41. WILSON, C.W. (1865), Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem, London. ZELINGER, Y (2010), Jerusalem, the Slopes of Mount Zion, HA-ESI 122.

Jerusalem, the Reign of Manasseh and the Assyrian World Order Yuval Gadot∗ 1. Introduction The 8th–7th century BCE was a period of unprecedented growth in Jerusalem. The city, founded in the Early Bronze Age near the Gihon Spring, was located for over two thousand years on the Southeastern Ridge (known also as the City of David/Silwan).1 During a long process that began close to the end of the 9th century BCE and that continued during most of the 8th century BCE, Jerusalem expanded to an area of over 60 hectares, as it became not just a political and religious center but a demographic one as well.2 While it is clear that the impact of the Assyrian empire cannot be related to the early stages of the process, its influence on how the Judahite society and economy was formed, cannot be ignored.3 Tiglath Pileser III (ca. 745–727 BCE), Shalmaneser V and Sargon II (720–705 BCE) left Jerusalem outside of Assur’s direct rule, but demanded loyalty from its kings (most of the 8th century BCE). After Sennacherib’s campaign in 701 BCE, the kingdom of Judah became more integrated into the Assyrian world order. These are also the years the material culture of the city expresses a high degree of specialization and consolidation. In terms of biblical historiography, these are the days Jerusalem was ruled by King Manasseh, who is portrayed as a sinner and an evil by the biblical authors.4 As a result, we know very little about his acts and policy.5 In 1994, I. Finkelstein published an article titled “The Archaeology of the days of Manasseh” and used archaeology in order to illuminate the long reign of king Manasseh.6 Manasseh, Hezekiah’s son ascended the throne when he was 12 years old and ruled ∗ I wish to thank the organizers of the workshop: Angelika Berlejung, Aren Maeir and Felix Hagemeyer, for inviting me to take part in a most interesting workshop and publish this paper in this volume. I also wish to thank my colleagues Oded Lipschits, Omer Sergi and Joe Uziel for their valuable comments on an earlier draft of the article. Needless to say, opinions expressed in this article are the author’s alone. 1 REICH 2011; DE GROOT/GEVA 2015:7–17 and further literature therein; for an alternative view see FINKELSTEIN/KOCH/LIPSCHITS 2011. 2 GEVA 2014. 3 BERLEJUNG 2012; LIPSCHITS 2018. 4 HALPERN 1988; KNOPPERS 2011. 5 KNAUF 2001. 6 FINKELSTEIN 1994; and see also THAREANI 2007; LEHMANN 2012.

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from Jerusalem for more than 55 years. He probably started as a co-regent right after the 701 BCE rebellion and continued until his death in 643/2 BCE.7 Finkelstein’s article was based mostly on sites located in the Negev and the Beer Sheva and Arad valleys. As more and more fieldwork is conducted in Jerusalem and its environs, it is time to explore the impact Manasseh, a loyal Assyrian client-king, had on the nature of Jerusalem as a royal center. In what follows, I wish to bring together a number of major developments and building projects within the city and in its surroundings that seem to have taken place during the early part of the 7th century BCE. These projects mirror Manasseh’s ability to negotiate his loyalty with the Assyrian hegemony.

2. The Rural Landscape and the Establishment of Royal Estates The unprecedented growth in the number of rural settlements around Jerusalem was discussed in recent articles.8 65 sites were counted in the newest publications, with several more since excavated, some with extraordinary importance for understanding early 7th century BCE Jerusalem.9 Y. Moyal and A. Faust attempted to reconstruct the rural settlement pattern around Jerusalem.10 Their analysis was based on geographical models developed for understanding the growth of urban systems across large regions and not necessarily for a single city within its specific geographical setting. The authors chose to ignore the accumulating data steaming from the many excavations being conducted. Thus, for example they concluded that Jerusalem’s periphery was divided into five equal districts and that Ramat Rahel and Moẓa governed two of the districts. A simple comparison between the two sites shows that they simply did not function for the same purposes:11 At Moẓa there are 37 large granaries, dedicated to the collection of grains.12 Not even a single silo was found at Ramat Rahel, a clear indication that grain storage was not part of the site’s economy. Moẓa’s animal economy is that of a production site, while that of Ramat Rahel is of a consumer site, similar to Jerusalem’s elite neighborhoods.13 The number of stamped lmlk handles at Ramat Rahel is 224.14 In Moẓa only two lmlk and five concentric circle handles were found. Above all, Ramat Rahel was built as a palatial center with grandeur, using architectural elements such as decorated stone capitals, window balusters and more, in order to communicate messages of might and control. No such elements were found at Moẓa. Clearly the two sites are not equal centers dividing the land between them. Instead, they should be understood as two

7

RAINEY 1993; KNAUF 2005; NA’AMAN 2016:65–66. GADOT 2015; GADOT et al. 2019. 9 STORCHAN 2015; 2017; BILLIG pers. comm.; STAFF 2020; SAPIR pers. comm.; BORCHELDAN 2020. 10 MOYAL/FAUST 2015. 11 GREENHUT/DE GROOT 2009; LIPSCHITS/OEMING/GADOT 2020. 12 GREENHUT/DE GROOT 2009:219–226. 13 SAPIR-HEN/GADOT/FINKELSTEIN 2016. 14 SERGI 2016:note 1; LIPSCHITS 2018:96. 8

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central sites dedicated for different purposes and maybe even belonging to two different systems operating within Judah. The accumulated knowledge from excavated sites allows us to truly recognize the unique function of some of the sites and the hierarchy between them. It seems that outside of Jerusalem itself, we can recognize five types of sites: isolated agricultural production sites (such as winepresses), single buildings, farmsteads, villages, and finally, sites that are symbolic landmarks. It should be noted that even within these five categories, it is possible to recognize variation in the nature and function of specific sites. While villages such as El-burj to the north and Er-Ras to the southwest, are a continuation of an earlier local agrarian tradition, the impact of the Assyrians can be recognized in the way the other four types of sites were distributed and functioned in the landscape.15 2.1 Farmsteads and Single Buildings Sites Thirty-three sites should be defined as single farmsteads or even a single small building. The precise dating of these sites is notoriously difficult as the current typological division of the material culture shows a great deal of continuity between the end of the 8th century BCE, the early 7th century BCE and its end.16 Nevertheless, the chronology suggested for the different stamp impressions found in Judah leads to a more precise dating of Iron IIB–C sites.17 It shows that Types IIb, IIc and XII of the lmlk stamp impressions date to the first part of the 7th century BCE and should be associated with the revival of Judah’s economy after Sennacherib’s campaign, when Judah came under direct Assyrian rule. These stamped handles were found in Jerusalem and at sites in its surroundings. Historically, the stamping of these jars happened in the first years of the 7th century BCE during the last days of Hezekiah and the early days of King Manasseh. Jar handles that carry a concentric circular incision (in most cases next to an earlier lmlk stamp impression) are also an indication for activities during the second third of the 7th century BCE.18 On top of that, detailed typological analysis performed by L. Freud helped recognize a limited number of pottery vessels types that can be dated to the first half of the 7th century BCE.19 Using both of these chronological tools, it becomes apparent that at least 25 of the 65 documented sites, were active during the early part of the 7th century BCE. These numbers show that the surge in rural activities in the vicinity of Jerusalem took place following the devastation of the Shephelah by Sennacherib, mostly in the days of King Manasseh. The many single building sites as well as farmsteads should not be taken as an indication for demographic growth. Their distribution along the tributaries of Nahal Refa’im and Nahal Soreq points towards their connection with farming activities, mostly 15

El-burj should be understood as a large village (similar to er-Ras to the south: DE GROOT/WEIN2013) while the nature of Manahat during the 7th century BCE is simply unknown, as it was not excavated. 16 GADOT 2015; FREUD 2018. 17 LIPSCHITS/SERGI/KOCH 2010; 2011; FINKELSTEIN 2012; LIPSCHITS 2018. 18 LIPSCHITS/SERGI/KOCH 2011:7–8. 19 FREUD 2018. BERG-STERN

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horticulture and agriculture. A large number of rock cut winepresses that were identified led scholars to connect these activities with vineyards and specialized wine production.20 A building cluster located along the upper Soreq Valley should, however, be associated with cereal economy that was gathered at the redistribution center at Moẓa.21 This “building cluster” attests to exploitation of areas covered by inhospitable rock formations that were neither cultivated before nor ever since.22 2.2 Small Collection Centers A number of the excavated sites should be understood as intermediate collection hubs, and as such, point toward the manner in which the landscape was administrated. One example for such a place is the “Storage Building,” located on the slopes of the Soreq Valley, part of the “building cluster” described above. The building is unique in its size and number of its rooms. Other examples of buildings with a semi-public nature are the ones built with a large frontal courtyard surrounded by two or three built wings. This design, termed “Open-Courtyard Buildings,” was introduced to Judah with the coming of the Assyrians, after it was already adopted in the former territory of Israel.23 The best example of an “Open-Courtyard Building” was found in Mamilla, just west of the Old City of Jerusalem and outside the boundary of the city during the Iron II.24 It includes a large, isolated building measuring 20×20 m with two wings, one to the south and one to the west, each further divided into rooms. The most dominant feature is its courtyard which was open to visitors and served as a semi-public space. Three more examples of “Open-Courtyard Buildings” were found at the site of Khirbet Er-Ras, a village site located by Nahal Refa’im. Finally, the “Ashlar Building,” found within the built-up area of the city, on the eastern slopes of the Southeastern Ridge (City of David/Silwan), is another case in point.25 The building has two wings, south and east of a central courtyard from which only a small segment was exposed. According to A. De Groot, the size and construction of the building indicate a public function.26 It seems that the common denominator of all the buildings above is the uniqueness of the courtyard and its relation to other components of the building. It is much larger than the inner courtyards that typify other types of buildings and it is positioned in front of the two wings. These qualities turn the courtyards into an area that can serve an administrative, public function. 2.3 Symbolic Landmarks At the top of the hierarchy are a number of symbolic and monumental sites that are directly related to Jerusalem’s elite that is integrated into the Assyrian order. These sites 20

GREENBERG/CINAMON 2006; LANGGUT/GADOT forthcoming. GREENHUT/DE GROOT 2009; GADOT et al. 2019. 22 GADOT et al. 2018; GADOT et al. 2019. 23 AMIRAN/DUNAYEVSKY 1958; GADOT/BOCHER 2018. 24 AMIT 2011; HIRSHBERG 2014. 25 DE GROOT/BERNICK-GREENBERG 2012:23–27. 26 DE GROOT 2012:166 21

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are located south and southwest of the city, suggesting that this part of the landscape was administrated differently than the land to the north and north west. The monumentality of Ramat Rahel in its earliest stage has long been understood as carrying symbolic meaning that was observed by people living in Jerusalem and its environment.27 Until recently, it was believed that Ramat Rahel stood in isolation on a high hill located away from the city. New discoveries show that geographically and functionally, the palace of Building Phase I at Ramat Rahel was not an isolated site and that the landscape between Jerusalem and Ramat Rahel was dotted with political landmarks. Located closest to Ramat Rahel is the newly discovered site of Mordot Arnona. Preliminary publications of the site describe it as an Ashlar-built building that was constructed either at the end of the 8th or the early 7th century BCE and was then dismantled and buried under a pronounced stone mound.28 The excavators also describe the exceptional number of stamped handles found at the site, the majority of them dating to the early 7th century BCE. Chronologically, the site is contemporary with Ramat Rahel Building Phase I, and with the small fortress of Zur Baher, located on the ridge to the south. When placed together on a map it seems that the three sites enclosed a small tributary of the Kidron Valley, and that this valley was probably turned into an estate. Another very unique site was found at Armon HaNatsiv (Jebel el-Muqabber; UN Government House).29 It is composed of a single ornamental structure, probably a monument or pavilion. Its position opposite the Temple Mount and the City of David/Silwan cannot be more dramatic. In Assyrian palatial terminology, this type of structures was termed bitanu and they were usually set in gardens and meant to be an observation point as well as to be observed. Preliminary dating of the structure shows that it was built in the earlier part of the 7th century BCE and went out of use by the end of the Iron Age.30 To the west of Ramat Rahel, the Rephaim Valley was also incorporated into the royal landscape and should be identified as the location of the “Valley of the King,” mentioned in Gen 14:17 and Num 18:18.31 The discovery of a decorated stone capital at ‘Ein Jawaza (Wallaja) in the Rephaim Valley and a second fragment of such a capital by the spring of ‘Ein Hania, provides further support to the proposal that the springs in the “Valley of the King” were utilized in order to feed intensively watered gardens that were decorated in Assyrian style.32 The system of high rising tumuli (rujums), placed on the hills and ridges to the north of the Rephaim Valley, are another prominent feature in its landscape. Their exact function is not certain and it seems that they are best understood as political and/or religious landmarks associated with the opposite springs of ‘Ein Jawaza and ‘Ein Hania and with the palace of Ramat Rahel, further in the distance.

27

LIPSCHITS/OEMING/GADOT 2020. SAPIR pers. comm.; BORCHEL-DAN 2020. 29 BILLIG pers. comm.; STAFF 2020. 30 ASADPOUR 2018. 31 LIPSCHITS/NA’AMAN 2020. 32 EIN MOR/RON 2016. 28

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3. Tunnel VIII (“Hezekiah Tunnel”) and the Conspicuous Consumption of Water The newly revealed royal use of the landscape for propaganda and more specifically the conspicuous usage of natural springs, calls for a reevaluation of the date of what must be the most ambitious water system in Bronze and Iron age Jerusalem: the hewing of the so called “Hezekiah Tunnel” or – its more technical name – Tunnel VIII. This is a highly sophisticated infrastructure project that succeeded in diverting the water from the Gihon spring to the other side of the ridge, by a 533 m long rock-cut tunnel. Its success is mirrored in the fact that it is operative till today, ca. 2700 years after its construction. Scores of articles were written regarding the technology and knowledge that allowed this remarkable achievement, regarding its date and its purpose. Technologically, we can rely on the description of the work as it appears in the famous inscription describing two work teams hewing towards each other.33 Whether they utilized an already existing underground karstic cavity or hewed the entire tunnel from top down, it is clear that this was a highly knowledgeable project that demanded the highest available specialists to be involved.34 It is also vividly clear that Tunnel VIII is a far more complicated project than the earlier cut Channel/Tunnel II, which took the water to a seemingly similar destination. The dating of Tunnel VIII varies between those who claim it should be connected with Hezekiah’s preparation for the Assyrian siege, those who opt for an earlier date and those dating it to the later years of Hezekiah’s reign or even to the time of Manasseh.35 It has to be admitted that an independent archaeological date was never really achieved. Two such attempts were made: First, a 14C dating of the plaster gave a general date of 8th–7th centuries BCE which is too broad in order to solve such a historical question.36 A second attempt was made by R. Reich and E. Shukron who suggested a chronostratigraphical sequence that places the cutting of the tunnel in the early 8th century BCE.37 According to their explanation: a) Tunnel IV, is a component within the larger project of Tunnel VIII. The southern opening of Tunnel IV is located at the bottom of the “Round Chamber,” which in itself is located at the bottom of the so-called “RockCut Pool;” b) The access to Tunnel IV was lost when the “Round Chamber” and the “Rock-Cut Pool” were filled (deliberately or gradually) by an earth fill; c) The finds from the fill were dated to the late 9th/early 8th centuries BCE; and d) The fill was used by the builders of a dwelling to level the area and establish a floor. Pottery collected from the floor dates the dwelling to the end of the 8th century BCE. Hence: Tunnel IV should be dated earlier than the dwelling construction and maybe even earlier than the 33

REICH 2011. GILL 1996; 2012; GILL/BURG 2013; FRUMKIN/SHIMRON 2006; REICH 2011; SNEH/WEINBERGER/SHALEV 2010. 35 For the first option see MAZAR 2000 and many references there. For an earlier date see REICH/SHUKRON 2011 and for the claim it was Hezekiah but after the 701 BCE campaign see USSISHKIN 1995; DALLEY 2004; GROSSBERG 2014. For Manasseh see KNAUF 2001. 36 FRUMKIN/SHIMRON/ROSENBAUM 2003. 37 REICH/SHUKRON 2011. 34

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pottery in the fill.38 This dating is, however, indirect and based on the acceptance of a few assumptions, the most important of which is that the cutting of Tunnel IV southern edge was indeed done to facilitate the hewing of Tunnel VIII. Technically, Tunnel IV can be part of an earlier attempt to divert the water, a direct continuation of Tunnels II and III that was damaged when the “Round Chamber” was cut. In this case, Tunnel IV’s southern edge predates Tunnel VIII. A second assumption is that the pottery in the fill dates the time the “Rock-Cut Pool” and the “Round Chamber” fell out of use. Even if one rejects L. Singer-Avitz’s objections regarding the date of the pottery, it is still possible that the soil was brought from the surroundings in order to level the ground at a slightly later time.39 In this case, the pottery is indicative of the time people were active around the spring but not of the action of placing the fill. Pottery found in the make-up of the dwelling’s floor and/or resting on this floor is probably a better indication for the time of the event under discussion. Unfortunately, these sherds were not yet published and from their general description can date to the early 7th century BCE.40 Finally, the function of the “Rock-Cut Pool” is disputed and it is clear that it was not a pool.41 The function of the “Round Chamber” is also not clear. These observations hamper the functional scenario offered by R. Reich and E. Shukron, and cast doubts regarding the accepted understanding of the entire system. Using the paleography of the Siloam inscription in order to date the Tunnel places the event in the late 8th and early 7th centuries BCE, a broad date that does not allow naming the king behind the project.42 As no name is mentioned in the inscription, connecting it with Hezekiah is based on the reading of the Biblical text and not the other way around. In fact, it seems that descriptions appearing in the Books of Kings, Isaiah and Chronicles have influenced all suggestions to date the Tunnel to the days of Hezekiah. Under these circumstances, an accurate dating of Tunnel VIII and its association with one king or the other should be based above all on understanding the tunnel’s purpose and the sociopolitical setting in which it was hewn. In 1995, D. Ussishkin suggested that the purpose of Tunnel VIII was to water royal gardens located at the Kidron. He also realized that the project must have taken place using Assyrian knowledge and under their inspiration.43 E.A. Knauf has evaluated Ussishkin’s suggestion and went one step further in identifying King Manasseh as the one who initiated the transfer of the water.44 This suggestion is mostly based on the new understanding of Manasseh’s policy within the Assyrian world order. However, most scholars rejected these new propositions, mostly because such an investment in royal gardens and propaganda was seen as irrational. It has to be admitted that at the time, there were no other known archaeological cases dating to the Iron Age from the Levant of water management and gardening that 38

See GILL 2012 for a similar explanation for the function of the southern segment of Tunnel IV. SINGER-AVITZ 2012; and see objections raised by UZIEL/SZANTON 2015; FINKELSTEIN 2013. 40 FINKELSTEIN 2013. 41 GILL 2012. 42 KNAUF 2001; FINKELSTEIN 2013. 43 USSISHKIN 1995 and see DALLEY 2004. 44 KNAUF 2001. 39

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were utilized to express conspicuous consumption. Twenty years later, such ideas do not look so out of context. The palatial garden excavated at Ramat Rahel, included water display facilities and exotic vegetation as an expression of royal and cultic symbolism.45 Ramat Rahel was located on a high rising hill and the garden was seen from long distances.46 While we know more about the garden vegetation during the Persian period, it is clear that the garden was designed during the very late stages of the Iron Age. The water system of ‘Ein Jawaza that was adorned with decorated stone capitals (see above), is also a clear indication that the local kings of Judah appropriated Assyrian ideas of water affluently and gardening into the landscape of Jerusalem. In light of these finds, Ussishkin and Knauf suggestions do not stand in isolation anymore and should be reevaluated. Tunnel VIII is not an ad hoc solution to a coming military siege over a city.47 Its planning and execution demands extensive knowledge and logistics even if it can be done in a relatively short time. This kind of knowledge is both local, as for example the intimate acquaintance with the qualities of the local rock formations,48 but it is also global, as it demands skillful workers, logistics and resources that were probably not local. As was convincingly shown by Ussishkin, Knauf and S. Dalley, the Assyrians under the rule of Sennacherib initiated ambitious gardening projects that included the transfer of water over vast distances and through bridges and tunnels.49 Placing such an endeavor at a time when Jerusalem was part of the Assyrian world order makes more sense and seems to fit everything we see regarding Manasseh’s policy (and see further below).

4. Discussion Taken together, the diverse evidence presented above are an indication for the appropriation of Assyrian royal culture by King Manasseh and part of the kingdom’s elite. The reshaping of the landscape is clearly seen in the hills to the south of Jerusalem that were spotted with political landmarks built at the highest quality ever seen in Judah. The construction of a bitanu at Armon HaNatziv, a hill overlooking the Temple Mount and the City of David/Silwan ridge, demonstrates the adoption of Assyrian conceptions on the cultural and natural landscape around the city. The sites of Mordot Arnona and Building Phase I at Ramat Rahel, functioned both for political meetings as well as a retreat and redistribution centers. Although we have no textual evidence, any of these places could have served also as the seat of an Assyrian qepu, a high-ranking representative of the empire.50 Further to the west, the Rephaim valley springs were also utilized for the erection of monumental landmarks. The valley’s slopes were devoted for 45

GROSS/GADOT/LIPSCHITS 2020. KEDEM 2020. 47 GROSSBERG 2014. 48 GILL 1996. 49 USSISHKIN 1995; KNAUF 2001 and DALLEY 2004. 50 LIPSCHITS 2018a; BERLEJUNG 2012. 46

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viticulture in what were royal estates. The hills northwest of the city were also intensely exploited but to this day, we are not aware of any projecting landmarks along the Soreq and its tributaries. Such use of landscape was never attested in Judah and is completely new to the Southern Levant. It seems to echo Assyrian policies in other parts of the empire, where a similar phenomenon of intensified agricultural land use and the erection of landmarks was noted.51 The construction of the numerous farmsteads, small collection centers in Assyrian style (the Open Courtyard Buildings), as well as isolated agricultural installations in the valleys surrounding Jerusalem, should be seen in this context.52 Through this, Judah was able to continue flourishing, even though the fertile lands of the Shephelah were handed over to the cities of Ekron and Ashdod in 701 BCE.53 The reshaping of the urban landscape is harder to decipher. Tunnel VIII and the possible royal garden it fed with the water are evidences for the highly symbolic and monumental reshaping of the urban landscape that took place most probably after 701 BCE. Such an ambitious project must have served royal propaganda in a display of conspicuous consumption. This does not contradict the fact that the water was utilized for more mundane activities, though access to the water must have remained restricted. Tunnel VIII is one of three large development projects that took place in the City of David/Silwan and are related to the later part of the Iron Age, though their exact dating is disputed. The other two projects are the building of a fortification wall around the newly expanded city and the construction of an elite neighborhood uphill and into the previously built Stepped Stone Structure. Most scholars would place the construction of these projects in the days of Hezekiah or shortly before. But when the archaeological data is checked carefully, it becomes apparent that just as with the date of Tunnel VIII, a date within the early 7th century BCE cannot be ruled out. The Broad Wall that encircles the newly expanded city, was clearly exposed in three sections: The Western Hill, Y. Shiloh’s Area E and K.M. Kenyon’s Trench 1. When it was first discovered by Kenyon, she hesitated in regard to its exact date.54 Her thoughts and considerations were quickly swept away when N. Avigad exposed the segment of the wall under the houses of the Jewish Quarter and when Shiloh exposed the presumed continuation of Kenyon’s Wall 1 to the south.55 Since then in most introductory books and summaries of the archaeology of Jerusalem, all three segments are related to one wall that was built by Hezekiah at the end of the 8th century BCE, just as reported in the Book of Chronicles.56 A closer examination of the data shows however that in both cases, the archaeological claim is based on ceramic typology that compares between Shiloh’s Stratum 12 and Lachish Stratum III. Since Jerusalem was not destroyed by Sennacherib, the date of the transition between Strata 12 and 11 is in fact unknown and 51

WILKINSON et al. 2005; ROSENZWEIG 2016. FINKELSTEIN/GADOT 2015. 53 GADOT 2015. 54 KENYON 1963. 55 For Avigad see: GEVA 2006. For Shiloh Areas D and E see: SHILOH 1984; DE GROOT 2012. 56 See among others: MAZAR 1990:417; WIGHTMAN 1993:62–63; MAZAR 1993; CAHILL/TARLER:36; REICH:105–106; ARIEL/DE GROOT 2000:159–163; REICH/SHUKRON 2003. 52

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pottery typical of Stratum 12 was most probably also in use after the turn of the century.57 In that case, claiming that Hezekiah fortified Jerusalem is based on textual considerations and not on the results of the excavations in Area E or the Western Hill. In fact, if one goes back to Kenyon’s initial considerations, there were good reasons for Kenyon’s hesitations in regard to the date of the segment she found, as the data from her own excavations suggested a date later than the end of the 8th century BCE.58 Theoretically, the best method for dating a city wall is by observing its relation with other architectural features from within the city. Wall 1, however, was built above a sharply sloping rock shelf.59 The full width of the wall was exposed only in Squares XII and XIII and its inner face was never exposed. In the few pictures published and in the documented section, it is possible to observe walls of earlier structures located west and upslope from the inner face of the wall.60 These walls belong to buildings that were damaged by the construction of Wall 1 but their date is not known. It is clear that if there were any architectural remains relating to the wall, they were all washed down together with the wall’s superstructure. Since precise dating of Wall 1 from its inner side cannot be achieved, the stratigraphical evidence from below the wall should be considered.61 These finds were described in a number of publications which show slight variations. It seems that the stratigraphical sequence as presented by H. J. Franken and M. L. Steiner in 1990, and later by Y. Eshel, cannot be disputed. Nine stratigraphical phases were defined. A row of buildings and Caves 1 and 2 were attributed to Phases 1 to 5. Phase 6 was described to be part of natural activities. Wall 1 was built in Phase 7 together with the establishment of the Cobbled Street.62 Franken and Steiner’s report is also the first publication where the ceramic finds were discussed and partly presented. The 8th century BCE dating for the finds from the structures below the street seems indisputable.63 Since the finds from the houses and the caves date to the second half of the 8th century BCE,64 Wall 1 was dated to the 7th century BCE: “Stratigraphically the structures of Phase 4 were sealed by the covered way. If the Pottery from Cave I is to be dated to 700 B.C. or slightly later (see phase 4), then the city wall was built sometime after that i.e., in the first half of the 7th century B.C.”65

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FINKELSTEIN 2012. FRANKEN/STEINER 1990:129; and see BAHAT 1981; ESHEL 1995:17. 59 STEINER 2001:fig. 6:43. 60 STEINER 2001:fig. 6:32 and 6:40.42. 61 A small architectural unit was built directly above the top of the wall. It included a floor and two walls (STEINER 2001:95–96). The dating of the floor was hampered by post-excavation damage and the finds were all mixed. It remains impossible to use the date of this unit for understanding when the wall was in use or went out of use. 62 FRANKEN/STEINER 1990:52–56. 63 See for example the finds from Room B (FRANKEN/STEINER 1990:32; fig. 22–23); and see ESHEL 1995 for the finds from Cave 1. 64 FRANKEN/STEINER 1990:49–50. 65 FRANKEN/STEINER 1990:56.129. 58

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Curiously, while the alternative dating was suggested conclusively, in at least one of the final reports published after the dig the data from the excavations was abandoned for other external considerations.66 It is true that the evidence from below Wall 1 and the Cobbled Street are not conclusive but they do indicate that the automatic correlation between Wall 1, the other wall segments found in other parts of the city and the deeds of Hezekiah as he prepared for the Assyrian siege, are not proven archaeologically and that it is possible that Wall 1 was constructed during the very early 7th century BCE. In that case it might be part of a major construction operation that was intended to overcome the impossible topography at this part of the hill and turned it into a terraced elite neighborhood.67 A carful observation of the preliminary publications of Shiloh’s excavations in Area G demonstrate that at least three more massive retaining walls had to be built along the slope in order to stabilize these new elite houses. It is therefore logical to suggest that the construction of Wall 1 was part of the same effort. When viewed together with the other three revetment walls it becomes clear that Wall 1 was part of a major change in the city’s layout. The Stepped Stone Structure, a monumental support wall for a public building, was put out of use together with an entire row of buildings that were built at the lower part of the slope and by the spring. Instead, Wall 1 and the other revetment walls facilitated the construction elite dwellings. It seems reasonable to date this major change to the time the spring water were diverted by Tunnel VIII, the days of Manasseh as proposed above, but an exact archaeological dating awaits further publications.

5. Conclusions The flourishing of Jerusalem as a political, economic and demographic center during the 8th and 7th centuries BCE should be viewed in relation to the expansion of the Assyrian empire westward and southward. While most scholars agree on the violent nature of Assyria’s military campaigns, the nature of their rule in the century that followed their takeover is disputed. Some scholars claim the Assyrian policy was exploitative and left behind a ruined country.68 A different viewpoint, expressed by many other scholars, sees the Assyrians as developing and maintaining a web of economic cooperation that insured the flow of wealth and taxes.69 Judah came into the Assyrian sphere after 732 BCE in the days of Ahaz, when it became a vassal kingdom.70 More direct Assyrian rule was established following the campaign of 701 BCE. Various scholars have recognized traits in the material culture that express the Judean elite’s selective adoption of aspects

66

STEINER 2001:109. FRANKEN/STEINER 1990; CAHILL 2003:13–80. 68 STAGER 1996; FAUST/WEISS 2005; FAUST 2011; MASTER 2014. 69 NA’AMAN 1995; GITIN 1995; STERN 2001:60–79; THAREANI 2009; 2016; LIPSCHITS/SERGI/KOCH 2011; SAPIR-HEN/GADOT/FINKELSTEIN 2014; YOUNGER 2015. 70 DALLEY 2004; LIPSCHITS/SERGI/KOCH 2010:26; LIPSCHITS 2018a. 67

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of Assyrian culture.71 It seems that the specialized and efficient land exploitation, the construction of monumental landmarks, and the use of water and gardens for expressing power and domination both in and around the city, are all expressions of a similar social process. Conventional archaeological dating and historical reasoning can only prove that the above described urban and landscape transformations took place during the last part of the 8th and the 7th centuries BCE. Tying these acts with a specific king through archaeological tools is hardly possible, as it demands high resolution dating, something that is rarely achieved.72 It seems that deciding whether these projects took place during the years Hezekiah cooperated with the Assyrians or during the years that his son reigned, is a matter of interpretation. In this case, it is clear that the adoption by most scholars of Hezekiah as the main builder of Jerusalem is based, almost completely, on the theology of the biblical authors of the Books of Kings and Chronicles.73 If one moves aside the biblical judgment of each of these two kings, and rely solely on the length each king reigned, and the wars each one was involved in, opinions would be very different.74 It is time to set the archaeological finds free of the theology standing behind the biblical books (and not of the political reality they were part of). An exact dating cannot be achieved but it would be fair to say it is more probable that Manasseh stood behind these projects and not Hezekiah. Manasseh, who ruled over Jerusalem and its surroundings for more than 50 years, chose a policy that allowed him and his followers to flourish under the Assyrian hegemony. As is usually the case, Manasseh’s loyalty to the Assyrians came with a price. He was able to portray himself as a king in a new language of architectural symbolism and water splendor that he incorporated into the local royal symbolism. He also achieved access to knowledge and resources unavailable to Judean kings before him. Apparently, his policy was not embraced by all sectors of Judean society. After his death, his physical legacy was obliterated by his rivals. He was also discredited from all of his achievements by the biblical authors, an act that still influences scholarship today.

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STERN, E. (2001), Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, Vol. II: The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 BCE), New York et al. STEYMANS, H.U. (2013), Deuteronomy 28 and Tell Taynat, Verbum et Ecclesia 34(2), 1–13. STORCHAN, B. (2015), Jerusalem, ‘Emeq Lavan, HA-ESI 127 (online) http://www.hadashot-esi.org.il/Report_Detail_Eng.aspx?id=23793. STORCHAN, B. (2017), Jerusalem, Ramat Shelomo, HA-ESI 129 (online) http://www.hadashot-esi.org.il/Report_Detail_Eng.aspx?id=25348&mag_id=125. THAREANI, Y. (2007), The Archaeology of the Days of Manasseh Reconsidered in the Light of Evidence from the Beersheba Valley, PEQ 139, 69–77. THAREANI, Y. (2009), In the Service of the Empire: Local Elites and “Pax Assyriaca” in the Negev, in: ErIs 29 (Ephraim Stern Volume), Jerusalem, 184–191 (Hebrew). THAREANI, Y. (2016), The Empire and the “Upper Sea”: Assyrian Control Strategies along the Southern Levantine Coast. BASOR 375, 77–102. USSISHKIN, D. (1995), The Water Systems of Jerusalem During Hezekiah’s Reign, in: M. WEIPPERT/S. TIMM (eds.), Meilenstein: Festgabe für Herbert Donner zum 16. Februar 1995 (ÄAT 30), Wiesbaden, 289–307. UZIEL, J./SZANTON, N. (2015), Recent Excavations Near the Gihon Spring and Their Reflection on the Character of Iron II Jerusalem, TA 42(2), 233–250. WIGHTMAN, G.J. (1993), The Walls of Jerusalem: From the Canaanites to the Mamluks (Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 4), Sydney. WILKINSON, T.J. et al. (2005), Landscape and Settlement in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, BASOR 340, 23–56. WINDERBAUM, A. (2012), Assur in Jerusalem: New Glyptic Evidence of the Assyrian Influence on Jerusalem, in: D. AMIT et al. (eds.), New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region 6, Jerusalem, 83–104 (Hebrew).

The Ark Narrative(s) of 1 Sam *4:1b–7:1 / 2 Sam 6* between Philistia, Jerusalem, and Assyria A New Approach for a Historical Contextualization and LiteraryHistorical Classification Benedikt Hensel 1. Jerusalem and the West: The Ark’s Journey through Philistia The Ark narratives in the Books of Samuel in 1 Sam 4–7:1.2a and 2 Sam 6:1–23 report how after a loss in battle, the Ark fall into the hands of the Philistines (1 Sam 4:5–12), travels as a spoil of war through multiple stops in enemy territory, and after some difficulties ultimately arrives in Jerusalem in a large festival procession (2 Sam 6:1–11.12– 19). It is then brought by David into the royal capital, namely: to its “place,” maqom, “inside the tent” (2 Sam 6:17: ‫ הָ אֹ הֶ ל‬R‫) ַויַּצִּ גוּ אֹ תוֹ בִּ ְמקוֹמוֹ בְּ תוֹ‬. Its route stretches from its original sanctuary in Shiloh in the northern Samarian hill county (1 Sam 4:3.4.121) through Ebenezer (1 Sam 4:1.5; 5:1), and initially to the west, along the coast to Ashdod (1 Sam 5:1–8). From there, it continues eastwards through Gath (1 Sam 5:9) and Ekron (1 Sam 5:10–12) and eventually back into friendly territory, reaching Beth-Shemesh (1 Sam 6:12–20), Kiriath-Jearim (1 Sam 6:21–7:2a) and finally, after a 20-year hiatus (1 Sam 7:2a), Jerusalem (2 Sam 6). The present essay focuses on a literary-historical classification and historical dimension tangible behind the Journey of the Ark established in the narrative of 1 Sam 5:1– 7:1.2a: What role does the itinerary play for the Ark’s larger function in the narrative and how does its possible, but highly controversial connection with 2 Sam 6 come into play? Then, a movement from the west towards Jerusalem is presented that has rarely been taken into account. For reasons addressed below,2 the field has instead focused primarily on the narrative’s geographic north/south references and on either the transfer of the Ark from Shiloh to Kiriath-Jearim (1 Sam 7:1) and Jerusalem (2 Sam 6*), or on the Northern Kingdom of Israel and the Southern Kingdom of Judah as original contexts to which the individual traditions taken up in 1 Sam 4–6 (Northern Kingdom) and 2 Sam 6 (Judah) can be assigned.

1

On the archaeological and literary-historical findings from Shiloh, see now the monograph from KNITTEL 2019. 2 For an overview of research, see below, section 2.

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Alongside the literary-historical reappraisal of the issue, a particular cultural-historical and religio-political background of the narrative is explored that has rarely been undertaken in this context. In my opinion, this aspect constitutes a central element within the Ark’s journey that critically influences both the fundamental dynamics of the narrative as well as its theological intention: the practice, well attested in ancient Near Eastern sources, of the deportation of cult statuary. This practice, termed “godnapping” in recent literature, is particularly well known from Assyrian contexts. A second aspect of inquiry is functionally related to the first: Why are the Philistines introduced in connection with the Ark Narrative as – at least within the narrative itself – the “primary nemesis of Israel”? Their existence and threat to Israel guide the fate of Saul and David, beginning in 1 Sam 4 and lasting until the latter emerges victorious in 2 Sam 5:17–25. In its present literary context, the Ark Narrative is then taken up again in 2 Sam 6. So, what is the functional connection intended by the authors between the “godnapping” of the Ark and the Philistine threat, and in what time period is the composition of such a narrative imaginable? Studies on the subject have rarely understood the Philistine threat as noteworthy, and instead as a possible result of historical “background noise” stemming from the Philistines now being seen as an influential and virtually-omnipresent power in the southern Levant during the Iron Age I and Early Iron Age II, the context in which the narrative is often situated. Alternatively, the Philistines have also been seen – interpreting the narrative like a majority of the field as a reflection of the Babylonian Exile – as allegorical and thus a general reflection of all the possible varieties of oppression in the exile (more on this below). This essay first proceeds with an overview of current studies on the Ark (section 2), followed by a discussion of the relevant biblical texts, 1 Sam 4* and 1 Sam 5–6* (section 3), in order to relate the historical practice of god statue deportation (section 4) with the Ark Narrative (section 5).

2. The Ark Narrative(s) in 1 & 2 Sam in Current Research In order to better define the issue in question, some categorizing is appropriate at this point. The narratives on the fate of the Ark have famously been transmitted not as a contiguous narrative, but rather as two narrative complexes: first 1 Sam 4:1b–7:1.2a, which includes the notice of the Ark’s loss in battle, the death of the Elides, and the itinerary of the Ark’s journey through Philistia until it reaches its (temporary; 1 Sam 7:2a) resting place in Kiriath-Jearim. The Ark is then mentioned again only in 2 Sam 6, which, in turn, reports the circumstances of its transfer to Jerusalem by David. When investigating the historical genesis of these narratives, one must refer to the influential 1926 work of Leonhard Rost. His thesis postulated that the oldest version of the Ark stories in 1 Sam 4–6 and 2 Sam 6 originally comprised a literary unity. This version (1 Sam 4:1b– 18a.19–21; 1 Sam 5:1–11b.12; 1 Sam 6:1–3b.4.10–14.16.19–21; 1 Sam 7:1; 2 Sam 6:1– 15.17–20a3) then belonged to the backbone of a pre-deuteronomistic composition of the Books of Samuel. This Ark Narrative contained the heiros logos of the most important 3

ROST 1926:14.

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cultic object of the Solomonic Temple and was integrated by the Rostian “Succession Narrator” into his Solomonic-period work. Rost cited three observations in support of the theory of an ark narrative’s independence: 1) In the larger literary context of Rost’s “Ark Narrative I” (1 Sam 5–6*), the figure of Samuel plays a critical role (esp. 1 Sam 1–3) – but not the narrative itself, which speaks for its original independence. 2) 2 Sam 6, the “Ark Narrative II,” belongs neither to the History of David’s Rise (henceforth “HDR”) nor to the Succession Narrative; rather, the chapter seamlessly follows 1 Sam 4–6*, and 3) vocabulary, style, and “religious thought-world”4 in both Ark narratives speak for their original connection. Rost’s propositions have long found wide acceptance in the field,5 which may be due to Martin Noth having taken it up in relatively unmodified form in his Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien,6 with the Rostian Ark Narrative quickly becoming seen as one of the three (with the Succession Narrative and the HDR) basic pre-deuteronomistic sources of the Books of Samuel. Of course, after nearly one hundred years of existence, Rost’s thesis has also received its share of criticism and rarely finds support in current discourse. While it would not be possible to discuss the entire debate in detail within the context of this essay – see instead the existing treatment of research by Erik Eynikel7 – attention should be called here to two central problems that have fundamentally shaped the current literary-historical debate: 2.1 The Challenge to the Unity of 1 Sam 4–6* and 2 Sam 6* The dispute of Rost’s thesis has come only lately, and consequently, the idea of a literary independence of 1 Sam 4–6 and 2 Sam 6 had not found much support in recent approaches. The actual scope,8 beginning and end,9 linguistic10 and syntax-structural11

4

ROST 1926:8. Cf. CAMPBELL 1975:28–54; SCHICKLBERGER 1973:17–25; SMELIK 1989:128–144; HENTSCHEL 2004:233–234; STOLZ 1980:39–52.212–218; cf. MCCARTER 1980:23: “This hypothesis has been among the most durable of modern scholarship.” 6 NOTH 1943:62–75. 7 For an overview of research on the Ark Narrative, see the thorough treatment of the state of the field by EYNIKEL 2000:88–106, which takes into account the literature up to 2000. For the previous two decades, research on the Ark Narrative has remained quire straightforward; the following essays on the Ark Narrative since Eynikel may be added: BRUEGGEMANN 2002; SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 2003; PORZIG 2009; DIETRICH 2011; as well as the current publications from Finkelstein and Römer, to be understood within the context of their ongoing excavations at Kiriath-Jearim; see FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER et al. 2018:31–83; RÖMER 2019:95–108. 8 FOHRER 1982:8–17. 9 MILLER/ROBERTS 1977:18–36. 10 SCHICKLBERGER 1973:12. 11 SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 2003:328. 5

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uniformity, editorial work,12 genre,13 and intent14 of the narrative have all been hotly debated. Some contradictory statements in the texts also seem to support doubting the original unity of an Ark narrative.15 This has recently become the predominant position in the field and is connected with the names Thomas Römer (2019), Israel Finkelstein (2018), Peter Porzig (2009), Christa Schäfter-Lichtenberger (1993; 2003), and Patrick Miller/Jack Roberts (1977).16 Above all, three arguments are cited against an original connection: 1) Kiriath-Jearim is the Ark’s resting place after its return (1 Sam 7:1.2a), while David collects the Ark from Baale-judah (2 Sam 6:2). Only in later tradition (Josh 15:9b: ‫ ;הַ גְּ בוּל בַּ ֲﬠלָה הִ יא קִ ְריַת ְי ָﬠ ִרים‬and the correction of the location of 2 Sam 6:2 in 4QSama) have both places been identified with each other.17 2) 2 Sam 6 can hardly be followed immediately by 1 Sam 7:1.2a, as the figure of David is not specifically introduced in 2 Sam 6, meaning that the text in its present form appears to presuppose at least parts of the preceding David narratives. 3) There are tensions regarding the cultic personnel, as while Eleazar, a son of Abinadab is consecrated in 1 Sam 7:1 as priest of the Ark, 2 Sam 6:2 speaks of Abinadab’s sons Uzzah and Ahio, who act not as priests, but as cart drivers. Thus, two independent Ark narratives may be assumed, which were redactionally attached to one another only at a later point in time. Recent studies have also shown that the possibility of the first Ark Narrative in 1 Sam 4– 6* having been subjected to a process of literary integration with 1 Sam 1–3 should be considered. At issue is whether the fate of the Elides already belonged to the original part of the Ark Narrative in 1 Sam 4 or was added later by the Deuteronomist in order to link the Ark Narrative with the tale of Samuel’s youth in Shiloh (1 Sam 1–3).18 In the first case, at least the part of 1 Sam 1–3 about the transgressions of the sons of Eli in 2 Sam 12–17*.22–25* would then be pre-deuteronomistic; in the latter case, the Ark Narrative would comprise merely 1 Sam 4:1b–4a.5–11a. An additional argument for the independence of 2 Sam 6 points to its integration within the context of 2 Sam 5–7* and thus within a Judahite-Davidide context, with 2 Sam 6* being tightly linked to the establishment of Jerusalem as David’s royal capital in 2 Sam 5:1–16. The transfer of the Ark is then understood as reflecting the transfer of ownership of Canaanite Jerusalem to YHWH, the god of David, and thus as part of the inauguration of Jerusalem as the seat of David’s rule.19 Religio-historical parallels are 12

WONNEBERGER 1992:274–283. STOEBE 1973:127–128. 14 CAMPBELL 2003:193–201. 15 On discussion of the differences and the arguments cited for or against the uniformity, see EYNIKEL 2000:90–97. 16 FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER et al. 2018:31–83; RÖMER 2019:95–108; SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 1993:197*–211*; 2003:323–338; PORZIG 2009:135–156; MILLER/ROBERTS 1977:23–35. 17 FRITZ 1994:157–158.167.183–184. 18 See EYNIKEL 2000; and HUTZLI 2007:197–202 (with a discussion of the respective arguments). 19 Cf. FLANAGAN 1983:364–371. 13

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well-attested in the ancient Near Eastern genre of texts involving the return of spoils of war (especially cultic implements) to the conquerors’ home sanctuary. This text genre is devoted to the dedication of the royal residence and thus royal legitimation.20 Accordingly, David acts in 2 Sam 6 both as king and as cultic protagonist in full accord with the ancient Near Eastern ideals of kingship. In this context, 2 Sam 7 clarifies the vital question already raised in the Michal episode in 2 Sam 6:20–23 concerning the endurance of the Davidic monarchy.21 2.2 Dating the Ark Narrative(s) Functionally connected to this question of uniformity (or lack thereof) is the question regarding the dating of the Ark Narrative and/or its constituent traditions. The debate essentially oscillates between two extremes. Some scholars underscore (like Rost) the historicity of the reports recognizable in the Ark Narrative(s) covering an early phase of the history of Israel (generally the tenth or ninth century BCE). In his study of the narratives of the Ark’s journey, Gösta Werner Ahlström formulated it as follows: “The so-called ark narrative reads as an artful piece of propaganda of religion-political importance. It may be a product of a pan-Israelite doctrine which viewed the people of Israel-Judah as a unit prior to the emergence of the monarchy. Its purpose is to show the emergence of Yahweh as an ‘empire god.’”22

Walter Dietrich may be considered as one of the prominent supporters of a modified and modernized version of Rost’s thesis in the current discussion. While taking up the previous debate, Dietrich maintained against criticism that “one should not […] envision the Ark Narrative as a smooth, continuous text” (here addressing arguments against the questioned cohesiveness of 1 Sam 4–6 and 2 Sam 6), “but rather […] as a composition from older traditions (1 Sam 4; 2 Sam 6; 1 Kgs 8) with interpretive and linking elements from the hand of the redactor (particularly 1 Sam 5–6, but also 1 Sam 4:6–8a and the ‘one enthroned upon the cherubim’ in 1 Sam 4:4 // 2 Sam 6:2),”23 with these clearly reflecting events of the ninth century BCE. Dietrich referred in this context particularly to the mention of Gath in 1 Sam 5 as part of the Philistine Pentapolis – a historical constellation “that did not exist from the late nineth century onwards, after the decline of Gath.”24 The first composition of the Ark Narrative then stands in temporal and functional relation with the fall of the Northern Kingdom (722 BCE). After the loss of the North, Judah takes over the ownership of the Ark. Per Dietrich, the numerous Exodus references and allusions within the Ark narratives reveal their basic intention, being told by Judean authors in a way that outdoes the exodus tradition, which Dietrich identifies as “Northern-Israelite specific.”25

20

See MILLER/ROBERTS 1977:77–86 for the numerous parallels. Cf. SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 1993:197*–211*; 2003:323–338. 22 AHLSTRÖM 1984:141. 23 DIETRICH 2014:256. 24 DIETRICH 2011:264. Finkelstein reasoned similarly in his previous approach, cf. FINKELSTEIN 2002:159. 25 See DIETRICH 2014:256; 2011:202–248.261–300; 2019:549–586. 21

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Thus, “the period after the fall of the Northern Kingdom of Israel [should be] considered, as northern traditions increasingly arrived in the south. The subtext of the Ark Narrative would then be that, though the exodus tradition may have lost its original promotion with the Northern Kingdom, the ability of Yhwh to handle the enemies of Israel has not been lost.”26

In 2002, Israel Finkelstein opted for a similar chronological classification: “A few texts, such as the Ark Narrative and the stories about the importance of Gath, seem to portray late Iron I (tenth century) and early Iron II realities.”27 This is remarkable considering Finkelstein’s opinion that all other mentions of the Philistines in the Old Testament reflect circumstances of the late monarchic period (namely under Josiah); for example, his conclusions in the same place of the same article: “The biblical references to the Philistines do not contain any memory of early Iron I (twelfth and eleventh centuries BCE) events or cultural behaviour.” Finkelstein has since moved away from this assessment of the Ark Narrative on grounds handled below. First, however, to the other side of the historical contextualization: A solid majority of the field situates the Ark Narrative in the exilic or post-exilic period, interpreting the “deportation” of the Ark in 1 Sam 5–6 as an allegory of the people of Israel during the Babylonian Exile and the return of the Ark to Jerusalem as a corresponding impulse towards hopefulness among the exiles. The entire conception then clearly takes a deuteronomistic shape (see esp. van der Toorn/Houtman,28 Smelik29 and Van Seters30); the idol polemics recognizable in 1 Sam 5:1–8 also point to this period.31 Yet this exilic/postexilic dating is hardly necessary; the chapters on the Ark contain hardly any deuteronomistic language, and even then, those sections are easily identifiable as later additions – as in the case of the idol polemic in 1 Sam 5:3–5.7b (more detail on this below). One must also ask why, given the suggested historical context, the Philistines of all people would have been chosen to reflect the exilic experience. From the sixth century on, the Philistines no longer posed a serious threat; the picture of the enemy evoked in the Bible would not have made for an automatic, direct association with the Babylonians who had just invaded the country. The newest iteration of the argument concerning the independence of the two Ark narratives has recently been put forth by Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer. Their propositions are tied to the new excavations at Kiriath-Jearim, which they have been conducting since 2017 as a Joint Project of Tel Aviv University and the Collège de

26

DIETRICH 2014:256. FINKELSTEIN 2002:159. 28 VAN DER TOORN/HOUTMAN 1994:209–231. 29 SMELIK 1989:128–144, esp. 142–144. 30 VAN SETERS 1997:349–350. 31 The following opt for an exilic or postexilic dating: SMELIK 1989:128–144; VAN SETERS 1997:346–353; PORZIG 2009:135–156. DIEBNER 1989/90:92 sees in the Ark Narrative an Israelite (= Judahite) conflict with the Hellenism of the third through first centuries BCE (the dominant factor being the Dagon temple in Ashdod, which was first constructed in the Hasmonean period, cf. 1 Sam 5; as well as a chain of evidence connecting an identification of the Ark with the storage of the tablets of the Torah within it – the formation of the Pentateuch only being concluded towards the end of the Hellenistic period). 27

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France across three small areas on-site.32 Finkelstein/Römer propose dating the Ark Narrative in 1 Sam 4:1–7:1 to the first half of the eighth century BCE, to the time of Jeroboam II. In any case, this narrative concludes with the Ark being placed at KiriathJearim for safekeeping (1 Sam 7:1.2a). Three primary suppositions guide their dating proposal: a) 1 Sam 4:1–7:1 forms an Ark tradition independent of 2 Sam 6*; b) Kiriath-Jearim constitutes a Northern Israelite border town; and c) the goal of the Ark Narrative is to supersede Shiloh as the location of the Ark and to legitimate its new location, Kiriath-Jearim, as its sanctuary through an etiological narrative.33 Here they refer to the archaeological findings: the excavation results published in 2018 have shown that in the Iron Age IIB, a flat, rectangular, 150m x 110m-wide podium was constructed atop the hill, supported by massive, 3m-wide walls. According to the excavators, the podium’s construction traces back to Israelite construction activity under Jeroboam II. Information on the results of the 2019 season given verbally by the excavators seems to be able to limit the dating to the first half of the eighth century, with the podium’s retaining wall seemingly excavated in 2019. According to Römer, 1 Sam 4:1– 7:1 legitimates the new sanctuary built by Jeroboam II in Kiriath-Jearim following the destruction of Shiloh: “The best candidate for the construction of the sanctuary would then be Jeroboam II, who built the sanctuaries at Dan and Bethel delimiting the North and the South; consequently, it is possible that the king conducted the same policy at Kiriath-Jearim. One could thus hypothetically see the history of the Ark in 1 Sam 4:1–7:1* (in a version shorter than the current text) as having been written during the reign of Jeroboam II as an etiological account legitimizing Kiriath-Jearim as the new sanctuary of the Ark.”34

Finkelstein/Römer further elaborate: “Accordingly, in the case of a North Kingdom affiliation [for Kiriath-Jearim], the elevated platform was built in order to accommodate an Israelite administration compound, including a temple (of the Ark, which also served as a border sanctuary?), aimed at dominating the vassal kingdom of Judah.”35

32 The preliminary excavation report from the 2017 season: FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER et al. 2018, with a short overview of the results also in FINKELSTEIN 2018:5. The excavation’s website gives an up-todate overview of the current progress on the project (https://kiriathjearim.wordpress.com/). For the results of previous excavations as well, see MCKINNY et al. 2018:30–49. 33 FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER et al. 2018:60; FINKELSTEIN 2018:5; RÖMER 2019:95–108 (esp. 101– 102.105). The narrative has been described before as a legitimation narrative, such as in MILLER/ROBERTS 1977:23–35; SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 2003:323–338; PORZIG 2009:135–156 (albeit with differing historical contextualizations). 34 RÖMER 2019:102. See also FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER et al. 2018:60: “It is also noteworthy that the Ark Narrative in 1 Samuel 4: 1–7: 1*, telling the story of the transfer of the Ark from Shiloh to Kiriathjearim, seems to have originated in the North. The goal was probably to legitimate Kiriath-jearim as the ‘new’ shrine of the Ark.” 35 FINKELSTEIN/RÖMER et al. 2018:60.

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The archaeological perspective is especially welcome in the context of a debate that has largely been based on literary-historical arguments. Yet, as important as the excavation results are, the arguments put forth here are not particularly convincing. In the biblical tradition, Kiriath-Jearim is a Judean settlement at the gates of Jerusalem; based on the various biblical findings, one may concede that it was located in a controversial area between Judah and Benjamin36 – but that it was so clearly a Northern Kingdom outpost with a border sanctuary à la Bethel and Dan does not appear to be as plausible. The narrative’s perspective is also already betrayed by the stop in Beth-Shemesh in the northern Shephelah mentioned immediately beforehand (1 Sam 6:12–20), as well as the mention of Gath in 1 Sam 5:8.9, which has historically been affiliated with Judean territory37 and was likely even under Judean control for a short period during the reign of Hezekiah.38 Thus, the Ark Narrative in 1 Sam seems – to anticipate the coming conclusions – much more likely to reflect Judean interests. The fact that Kiriath-Jearim, as the preliminary excavation results seem to show, likely played an important role in the history of Israel does not of course speak against this, instead explaining why the site appears in the Ark’s itinerary at all.

3. The Ark Narrative of 1 Sam 4:2–7:1.2a 3.1 A “Catastrophe Narrative” of the Loss of the “War Palladium” and the Demise of the Elides: 1 Sam 4:1b–22 as the Oldest Building Block of the Ark Narrative The narratives about the Ark in 1 Sam are located in 1 Sam 4:1–7:2a. This narrative is not a literary unity and quite clearly contains traces of textual growth.39 With 1 Sam 4 the Philistines take the stage in the narrative world of Samuel for the first time, being depicted across the Books of Samuel as the strongest enemies of Israel. The first two kings, Saul and David, stand in constant conflict with the Philistines just as Israel depicted here in premonarchic times. Beginning with the first narrative episode, 1 Sam 4:1b–22 reports of two battles lost against the Philistines at Ebenezer in northern Israel. After the first defeat (1 Sam 4:1b–3), the Ark is taken from Shiloh to the base camp, accompanied by the priests Hophni and Phineas, the sons of Eli. This immediately leads to exactly what the Israelites had hoped for: the Ark’s presence greatly intimidating the Philistines (1 Sam 4:4–9). Nevertheless, a second battle commences (1 Sam 4:10–11), which ends not only with the deaths of both sons of Eli, Hophni and Phineas (v. 11), but also with another Israelite defeat. In the end, the Philistines steal the Ark from the battlefield. Then, the perspective of the narrative pivots to the fate of Eli and his family (1 Sam 4:12–22). The high priest of the Ark’s sanctuary in Shiloh 36 On the biblical evidence, see KOCH 2017:344; also, MCKINNY et al. 2018:30–49; and VIEWEGER 2019:210–211. 37 LEVIN 2017:232–240. 38 As indicated by e.g., the Judean lmlk-jar handles found during the excavations in Gath (CHADWICK/MAEIR 2018:48–55); this would then explain why Mic 1:10 includes Gath in its list of Judean cities. 39 See WONNEBERGER 1992:274–286; PORZIG 2009:135–156; DIETRICH 2011:202–245.

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tragically dies after a messenger informs him of the death of his two sons and the loss of the Ark. The close connection between the Elide family and the fate of the Ark is particularly noticeable here (v. 17.21.22). The terrible news continues as Eli’s daughterin-law immediately goes into labor (v. 19–22); the mother dies in childbirth, but not without giving her son the peculiar name “I-kabod” (‫;אי־כָבוֹד‬ ִ v. 21). This is best translated as “Where is the Kabod (of YHWH)” and is given as its meaning in the narrative itself (v 21a.22a). The name thus appropriately interprets the character of the catastrophe from 1 Sam 4: with the abduction of the Ark, the ‫ כָבוֹד‬has been taken away from Israel, or – to get to the heart of Walter Brueggemann’s interpretation of the name – “God is gone.”40 Yet, Israel has not only lost its deity; the very existence of Israel itself is at stake here, as the fundamental connection between the deity and its people, which was foundational within the ancient Near Eastern worldview, is disrupted. From this perspective, the end of the Elide priesthood has consequences for all Israel and thus it is not the fate of the Ark standing at the center of 1 Sam 4:1b–22, but the fate of Israel. Upon closer inspection, 1 Sam 4 contains relatively clear literary seams that point to editorial revisions: a)

The deuteronomistic “judge” notice in v. 18b (See Judg 3:10; 4:4; 10:2.3; 12:7.8.9.11.14; 15:20; 16:31). b) The mention of the divine epithet “one enthroned upon the cherubim” (1 Sam 4:4: ‫) ֹישֵׁ ב הַ כְּ רֻ בִ ים‬, which serve no purpose in this context; also found later in 2 Sam 6:2 and 1 Kgs 8:6–7 and generally presupposed by 1 Kgs 6:23–32.41 c) Additionally – because of its enlarged context – also the explicit reference to the exodus in v. 6b–8 (especially in v. 8b: ‫ת־מצְ ַר ִים בְּ כָל־מַ ָכּה‬ ִ ֶ‫אֵ ֶלּה הֵ ם הָ אֱ`הִ ים הַ מַּ כִּ ים א‬ ‫)בַּ ִמּדְ בָּ ר‬.42 d) The doublet in the concluding verses 21a.22a (“The glory/kabod has departed from Israel”). Though this can be taken as a stylistic device, it is more likely that the original narrative ended with v. 21 and the birth of Ichabod: v. 21:

‫ַו ִתּקְ ָרא ַל ַנּﬠַר ִאי־כָבוֹד לֵא ֹמר‬ ‫ָגּ לָה כָבוֹד מִ ִיּ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ ‫אֶ ל־הִ ָלּ ַקח אֲרוֹן ָהאֱ`הִ ים‬ ‫וְ אֶ ל־ ָחמִ י ָה וְ ִאישָׁ הּ׃‬

And she named the child “I-Kabod,” saying: ‘The glory has been taken away from Israel,’ Because the Ark of God had been taken And because of her father-in-law and her husband.

Verse 22a was added later, in view of the addition of the Ark’s journey narrative (see below). In its present context, the events of 1 Sam 4* are embedded in the narrative of Samuel (1 Sam 1–3) and the transgressions of the sons of Eli (1 Sam 2:12–17.22–25.27–

e)

40

BRUEGGEMANN 2002:33. See RÖMER 2019:102–103. 42 DIETRICH 2011:211–212. 41

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36; 3:11–14). Yet, Samuel himself appears neither in 1 Sam 4 nor in the entire Ark Narrative. This would point to the possibility of an independent development of 1 Sam 4*, that was only later integrated into the context of the Samuel narratives. Accordingly, an original narrative can be delineated that likely comprised vv. 1b–6a.9– 21. This forms a self-contained narrative with a limited purview, which can be interpreted with Walter Dietrich as a “catastrophe narrative” and reports on the fate of Israel as well as the fate of the Elides. As opposed to 1 Sam 5:1–7:2a, the Ark in the original version of the story functions purely as a war palladium, not meriting any exceptional focus in the narrative: The palladium is lost, without consideration of its possible return. In a strict sense, the story in its original shape should not be labeled as an “Ark Narrative.” This original story (1 Sam 4:1b–6a.9–21) has no knowledge of Eli’s sons being guilty of anything in particular, despite this being a regular assumption in research due to the allegedly close references to 1 Sam 2:12–17.22–25.27–36; 3:11–14 within the context of 1 Sam 1–3.43 The critique of Eli’s sons in 1 Sam 2:11–17.22–25 (or 26) was only added through a deuteronomistic revision of 1 Sam 2;3*.44 A later addition of the Elides’ destiny in 1 Sam 2*; 3*; 4* to the Ark Narrative, namely under a deuteronomistic redaction (reducing the earliest material to approximately 1 Sam 4:1b–4a.5–11a), is less likely given the dense entanglement of the fates of the Ark and the Elides mentioned above. 3.2 The Journey of the Ark through Enemy Territory (1 Sam 5:1–7:1.2a) The narrative perspective shifts in 1 Sam 5:1–7:2b: No longer do Israel and its woes stand at the center of attention, but rather only the fate of the Ark in hostile Philistine territory. The mention of Ashdod in 1 Sam 5:1 indicates the focal point of the plot to follow. Though the Philistines brought the Ark of the God of Israel under their control (cf. 1 Sam 4:11a), they still have no power over it. In the first episode, the Ark is taken to Ashdod and displayed in the temple of its god, Dagon (1 Sam 5:2),45 with this custom typically demonstrating superiority over their powerless enemy. Yet in 1 Sam 5, the opposite takes place. The Ark mysteriously destroys the statue of Dagon (v. 3–5.7b) and brings sickness and doom upon the Philistines (v. 6–7a). The Ark is subsequently sent to Gath (1 Sam 5:9; cf. v. 8) and from there on to Ekron (1 Sam 5:10–12). At every stop, it wreaks great havoc upon the Philistines. Its transfer to Ashkelon and Gaza is only

43

Cf. EYNIKEL 2000:88–106; the intertextual connections are particularly striking in FOKKEL1993:241–244 passim. 44 As per DIETRICH 2011:211–215; seeing 1 Sam 2:11–18.22–26 as deuteronomistic has become common and is well-founded (cf. e.g., MÜLLER 2008), but typically the Elide passages in 1 Sam 4* are also seen as part of this redaction (cf. e.g., STOEBE 1973:111–115; see EYNIKEL 2000 for the discussion of the literature and arguments). 45 On the cult of Dagon as well as Philistine religion in general, see EHRLICH 2007:254–271 (on Dagon pp. 256–257). A Temple to Dagon in Ashdod is first mentioned in 1 Macc 10:83–84; 11:4, presumably torn down by Jonathan the Hasmonean.

MAN

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173

mentioned on the side, though similar disasters come with it.46 The narrative seeks to give the impression that the entire Philistine Pentapolis was ultimately forced to submit to the power of the Ark, and thus, the power of YHWH. Eventually, the cities’ five princes consult religious specialists for advice (1 Sam 6:2), who suggest preparing a guilt offering, putting the Ark on a cart yoked with two cows, and then sending it off (1 Sam 6:2–11, cf. 2 Sam 6:3). The Ark is then escorted upon the cart away from the Philistines and to the border with Beth-Shemesh (1 Sam 6:12.16). Beth-Shemesh is situated 20km southwest of Jerusalem in the northeastern Shephelah – territory long contested between the Philistines and the Judeans.47 Yet the specific mention of the Philistine princes not crossing the border with BethShemesh (v. 16: ‫שׁבוּ ֶﬠקְ רוֹן בַּ יּוֹם הַ הוּא‬ ֻ ‫ ) ַוח ֲִמשָּׁ ה סַ ְרנֵי־פְ לִ ְשׁ ִתּים ָראוּ ַו ָיּ‬establishes that (at least in the world of the narrative) the Ark’s entrance into Beth-Shemesh constitutes its return to “Israelite,” and more specifically: to Judahite territory. Even still, this does not appear to be the proper place for the Ark (1 Sam 6:12–20), and so the Ark is ultimately brought to Kiriath-Jearim (1 Sam 6:20–21). 1 Sam 7:1:

‫ַויָּ ֹבאוּ אַ ְנשֵׁ י קִ ְריַת ְיﬠ ִָרים‬ ‫ַויַּﬠֲלוּ אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן ְיהוָה‬ ‫ַויָּבִ אוּ ֹאתוֹ אֶ ל־ ֵבּית אֲבִ ינָדָ ב ַבּ גִּ בְ ﬠָה‬ ‫וְ אֶ ת־אֶ ְל ָﬠזָר בְּ נוֹ קִ דְּ שׁוּ לִ ְשׁ ֹמר אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן ְיהוָה׃‬

And the men of Kiriath-Jearim came and retrieved the ark of YHWH and brought it into the house of Abinadab, on the hill, and they consecrated Eleazar, his son, to hold watch over the ark of YHWH.

The village of Kiriath-Jearim lays on the western border of Benjamin (Josh 15:9; 18:14.15), with the city belonging either to Judah (Josh 15:9; 18:14) or to Benjamin (Josh 18:28; albeit text-critically unclear).48 It is possible that this border town even 46 This is indicated not only by the number of the five Philistine princes mentioned across 1 Sam 6 (‫ ;סֶ ֶר ן‬1 Sam 6:4.16) who are then addressing the problems of the sickness and death caused by the Ark, but also the listing of the five cities of the Pentapolis – Ashdod, Gaza, Ashkelon, Gath, and Ekron – in 1 Sam 6:17. The Pentapolis is symbolically represented in 1 Sam 6:4 with the guilt offering through the five boils and five mice that were demanded: ‫מִ סְ פַּר סַ ְרנֵי פְ ִל ְשׁ ִתּים חֲמִ שָּׁ ה ﬠְ ֹפ לֵי זָ ָהב ַו חֲמִ שָּׁ ה ﬠַכְ בְּ ֵרי זָ ָהב כִּ י־‬ ‫( מַ ֵגּפָה אַ ַחת ְל ֻכלָּם וּ ְל סַ ְר נֵיכֶם‬cf. also vv. 5.17). On the diverse problems of textual transmission in the two verses and their reference texts, see BODNER 2008:634–349. In the MT, “mice” (‫ )עכברים‬are spoken of first in 1 Sam 6:4; in Ashdod, there is only talk of “boils”/“ulcers” (‫עפלים‬, 1 Sam 5:6; also 1 Sam 6:4 MT). The LXX already reads “mice” (μύες) in this verse. 47 Cf. FANTALKIN 2004:245–261. According to 1 Kgs 4:9; Josh 15:10; 21:16, Beth-Shemesh was a Judean/Israelite settlement. The material culture features Philistine pottery; yet one must be careful about drawing a direct conclusion about a Philistine population at Beth-Shemesh (as in STOLZ 1980:49, who speaks of a “Philistine settlement in the border country against Judah”; more critical but with comparable tendencies DIETRICH 2011:264–265, with Beth-Shemesh being “Philistine according to the material culture”, p. 264, derived from pottery alone). After all, pottery (esp. the carefully-made Philistine bichrome pottery) was a commodity. 48 See VIEWEGER 2019:210–211; KOCH 2017:344; and MCKINNY et al. 2018:30–49, also for the discussion on the biblical evidence in light of the archaeological findings and historical-topographical

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changed its territorial affiliation over time. Yet, according to the biblical evidence, Kiriath-Jearim is to be understood chiefly as a Judean settlement, not as (per Finkelstein/Römer) clearly Israelite. The narrative corpus concludes with notice of the Ark’s transfer to Kiriath-Jearim in 1 Sam 7:1, and the Ark plays no role whatsoever in the following Samuel/Saul story and only reappears in 2 Sam 6:1. Several characteristics cause the narrative complex of 1 Sam 5:1–7:1 to function as a large, self-contained unity. The following all serve as overarching narrative brackets: the mention of the five rulers of Philistine territory (1 Sam 5:8.11; 6:4.12.16.18); the hand of YHWH, lying heavy upon the Philistines (‫ ;יַד־ ְיהוָה‬1 Sam 5:6.7.9.11; 6:9; cf. 1 Sam 6:3.5); the boils (‫ )עפלים‬that first befall the Philistines and then are replicated by them (1 Sam 5:6.9.12; 6:4.5); the dangerousness of the Ark, unfolding wherever it goes. Additionally, numerous references to Exodus are recognizable throughout the section and likewise serve as a linking mechanism in the narrative;49 for example, the language of the “hand of YHWH” in 1 Sam 5:6; 6:5 // Exod 9:3; the “plagues” and “cries” of the populace in 1 Sam 5:10.12 // Exod 10:5–6.12.15; 11:6; 12:30; and 1 Sam 6:2.8 // Exod 7:11; 10:7 (advice from the religious specialists during an emergency); 1 Sam 6:8* // Exod 8:11.28; 9:7.34 (the stubbornness motif); finally 1 Sam 6:14 // Exod 10:25 (burnt offering for YHWH via the enemy). These are often interpreted as a late, redactional connection of the Ark and exodus narratives. Ahlström understood the Exodus references to be secondary supplements, seeing Israel’s exodus (and deliverance from Egypt) as an allegory of the Babylonian Exile.50 Yet this is not necessary; they could have belonged to the original narrative, which, interplaying with 1 Sam 5:11, resulted in the exodus allusions in 1 Sam 4:6b–8. The “Exodus” flavor therefore strengthens the entire state of affairs: the Ark is in “war captivity” all on its own in hostile territory – and here, as there, one is completely dependent upon the help of God for salvation. The narrative arc even follows a certain storytelling dynamic by increasing the intensity of the suffering, which further strengthens the impression of the unity of 1 Sam 5:1– 7:1: The “very great terror” (‫;מהוּמָ ה גְּ דוֹלָה ְמאֹ ד‬ ְ 5:9) upon the people of Ashdod thanks to the “hand of YHWH” becomes a “deathly terror” (‫;מהוּמַ ת־מָ וֶת‬ ְ v.11) in the final Philistine city of Ekron.51 Accordingly, in the first city of Ashdod, the population “only” falls ill with boils (1 Sam 5:6), while in Gath and Ekron, the presence of the Ark leads to widespread deaths (1 Sam 5:10.11.12; cf. also the deaths in Beth-Shemesh in 1 Sam 6:19). It is relatively clear that the original Ark narrative1 Sam 5:1–7:1* originally ended with 1 Sam 7:1. Vers 2a and its report of the 20-year stay of the Ark in Kiriath-Jearim is clearly secondary, a redactional link, that introduces the subsequent ch. 7*,

and territorial-political possibilities. 49 The references to Exodus in the Ark Narrative are observed regularly, see e.g., the compilation of references in DIETRICH 2011:217–219; DIEBNER 1989/90:81–92, esp. 88–90; also, RÖMER 2019:104– 106. 50 AHLSTRÖM 1984:141–149, with a similar interpretation of the exodus motif to SMELIK 1989:128– 144. 51 Interestingly, the LXX does not follow this shift, with no equivalent to the MT ‫“ מָ וֶת‬deathly terror” in 1 Sam 5:11.

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175

a deuteronomistic addition that segues back into the Samuel story and the formation of the monarchy in 1 Sam 8–12*; it is also not a part of the original Ark Narrative. The contextualization of 1 Sam 5:1–7:1 with the original “catastrophe narrative” 1 Sam 4* is much tighter, which becomes clear not only from the redactional layer of Exodusallusion in 1 Sam 4:1–7:1* as shown above. There is also to mention the literary transition from 1 Sam 4:21.22 to 1 Sam 5:1: In contrast to 1 Sam 4 and its focus on Israel and the Elides, 1 Sam 5:1 introduces a new narrative movement by relating the events surrounding the Ark in Philistia. This shift in focus is already prepared in 1 Sam 4:22a: v. 22:

‫ַו תּ ֹאמֶ ר‬ ‫ָגּלָה כָבוֹד מִ ִיּ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ ‫כִּ י ִנ ְל ַק ח אֲרוֹן ָה ֱא`הִ ים‬

And she said: “The glory has been taken away from Israel, for the Ark of God has been taken.”

As opposed to v. 21 of the original ending of the narrative, where the birth of Ichabod closes the narrative, v. 22 returns attention to the Ark: the mention of the ‫ֲארוֹן הָ אֱ`הִ ים‬ concludes the previous episode and, beginning in 1 Sam 5:1, the audience embarks on a journey with the deported Ark through hostile territory. V. 22 is therefore clear redactional in nature. Additionally, 1 Sam 5:1 prepares for the geographical transition, taking up Ebenezer as the central location from 1 Sam 4 and, with the keyword “to take away” (‫)לקח‬, one of the central concepts of the “catastrophe narrative” (1 Sam 4:11.17.19.21.22). It can be concluded that 1 Sam 5:1–7:1 is best understood as a Fortschreibung of the original narrative in 1 Sam 4:1b–6a.9–21, resulting in the actual “first edition” of the Ark Narrative in 1 Sam 4:1–7:1*. Was 1 Sam 7:1 the original ending of this early Ark narrative? Contrary to the current majority opinion, I find it unlikely that the Ark Narrative ended with its stationing at Kiriath-Jearim and served as an etiology to legitimate a presumed (Ark) sanctuary there (as per Finkelstein, Römer, Schäfer-Lichtenberger, Miller/Roberts, and others; see section 2). The text’s geographic perspective starting from Beth-Shemesh is already Judean; 1 Sam 7:1 does not suitably lend itself towards any special power of legitimation; the “bringing” of the Ark (Hiph., ‫ )בוא‬to Kiriath-Jearim is not qualified any differently than its previous stops.52 The legitimatory character is fleshed out only in 2 Sam 6, a chapter composed following ancient Near Eastern prototypes, as Christa SchäferLichtenberger has recently been able to demonstrate as plausible.53 Therefore, the older basic premise that 1 Sam 4–6* and 2 Sam 6* originally belonged together is, in my opinion, undeniable, and can be even more clearly demonstrated in 52 The consecration ( ‫ )קדש‬of Eliazar as priest for the Ark is an important aspect of demonstrating that the Ark has now definitely reached home territory. In any case, a sanctuary is mentioned just as little as a place where the Ark is set up – this only happens in 2 Sam 6. 53 For the royal ideology in 2 Sam 6 and its elements from ancient Near Eastern typology, see SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 1993:197*–211*; 2003:323–338; for the ancient Near Eastern parallels, cf. MILLER/ROBERTS 1977:77–86 (with the difference that these scholars take 2 Sam 6 to be independent from 1 Sam 4–6*).

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the following. Against Rost it is evident, that 2 Sam 6 does not connect seamlessly to 1 Sam 7:1, as the immediate differences are too great (especially the mention of Baalejudah instead of Kiriath-Jearim in 2 Sam 6:2, as well as the lack of the introduction of David in 1 Sam 6ff.); yet, it can be assumed that with 2 Sam 6*, we have preserved at least the original ending reach of an original Ark narrative that began with 1 Sam 4:1– 7:1. The familiar lexical connections (such as the “cart” for the transportation of the Ark in 2 Sam 6:3 // 1 Sam 6:7, as well as the epithet “one enthroned upon the cherubim” in 1 Sam 4:454 // 2 Sam 6:2: ‫ ) ֹישֵׁ ב הַ כְּ רֻ בִ ים‬55 further reinforce the impression of an originallyunified Ark Narrative in 1 & 2 Samuel. These well-known observations may be supplemented by the narrative brackets containing the “godnapping” motif recognizable and whose references within the narrative are described below.

4. “Godnapping” in the Ancient Near Eastern World As has been regularly noted in the field since at least the 1977 study by Patrick Miller and Jack Roberts,56 there are certain ancient Near Eastern parallels and patterns that appear to be reflected in the Ark Narrative. One is the custom of placing spoils of war, and especially cultic implements, on display in the temple of the victorious nation’s deity. The Mesha Stele tells of the Moabite king Mesha triumphing over various Israelite settlements, and in one place (ll. 10–14) of capturing cultic implements from the local sanctuaries to bring “before Chemosh,” the primary Moabite deity.57 Examples from the biblical context include the exhibition of Saul’s armor in the Philistine temple to Astarte after his death (2 Sam 31:10), as well as the presentation of Goliath’s sword in the YHWH-sanctuary in Nob (1 Sam 21:10). As mentioned above, 2 Sam 6 is often seen as reflecting a literary genre titled “the return of cultic objects” that is particularly wellattested in Assyrian texts (Miller/Roberts). However, the evidence raised by Miller/Roberts spans a period of time from the second to the first millennium, encompassing a dangerous geographic scope across diverse Mesopotamian locales and their neighboring regions. In my opinion, this is critically disadvantageous for the argument, since methodological reliability would require that such sources, functionally and temporally related either to the southern Levant or to Israel or Judah, were available for consultation as reference texts by the authors, redactors, or recipients of the biblical texts and thus (and least potentially) belonged to the

54 As shown, the epithet was not yet part of the catastrophe narrative of 1 Sam 4*, but was rather inserted into 1 Sam 4 when incorporating the Ark narrative from 1 Sam 5:1ff., in order to enable the connection to 2 Sam 6. 55 The functional and terminological connections have long been known and brought about Rost’s hypothesis of an Ark Narrative comprising 1 Sam 4–6 and 2 Sam 6. The references in 2 Sam 6 to 1 Sam 4–6 can be found in DIETRICH 2019:560–562. 56 Cf. MILLER/ROBERTS 1977. 57 Text of the Mesha Inscription in WEIPPERT 2010:246. Further evidence in MILLER/ROBERTS 1977:17–26.

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lived reality of the scribes and the recipients of the texts.58 Indeed, these sorts of sources exist – making it worthwhile to turn to a different, though functionally related, custom. The practice of victorious nations removing statues of gods from the sanctuaries of defeated nations is well attested, though these are rarely destroyed and are much more often brought back to the victors’ own sanctuaries. In Mesopotamian history, this custom is attested from the reign of Shu-Ilishu (1984–1975 BCE) down to Cyrus the Great (559–530 BCE), and has been known to Assyriology since the middle of the nineteenth century: the first visual representation of the practice came via Austen Henry Layard’s 1848/49 publication of the iconographic collection from Nineveh.59 In the following year, Henry Rawlinson’s decipherment of the Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III (BM 118885) provided literary attestation across three different places on the obelisk.60 In his 1997 study, Alasdair Livingston termed this under the neologism “godnapping,” which has since found widespread acceptance in the field.61 Several studies have been dedicated to studying the practice in depth, plotting its function on a religio-political coordinate system of imperialism, political control, and the demoralization of the subjected population. After all, statues of gods were seen as powerful manifestations of their represented deities;62 this explains not only why the statues were not immediately destroyed by the victors,63 but also why they could be consciously used as a tool for religio-political ends. In its literary attestations, the abduction of the god statues is often included in the lists of prisoners (among the kings and royal families) and spoils of war, likely in order to “[minimize] the cult image’s prominence and status as divine manifestation.”64 Important contributions in this context are connected with the names Mortan Cogan (1974), Kathryn F. Kravitz (1999), Angelika Berlejung (1998; 2012), Steven Winford Holloway (2002), Erika Johnson (2011), and recently Shana Zaia (2015). An article by Mathias Delcor has already suggested the possibility of the practice being present in the background of the Ark Narrative (esp. 1 Sam 5).65 However, he (as well as those who accepted his assertions) proceeded from a rather vague cultural background, since god deportation appears to have been quite a widespread custom in antiquity.66 Walter Dietrich may also serve as an example of this idea: “In antiquity,

58

These methodological presuppositions were analogously formulated in the 1990s by Keel and Uehlinger with their iconographic work in view, and are useful in this case; see KEEL/ UEHLINGER 1997:59–64; UEHLINGER 1994:57–89, esp. 59–64. 59 LAYARD 1848/49. 60 RAWLINSON 1850:33.41.43. 61 LIVINGSTONE 1997:156–177. 62 Cf. BERLEJUNG 1998. 63 There are only a few known exceptions to this, and only two from Assyrian contexts (under Assurbanipal and Esarhaddon) that expressly undertake a destruction of cult statuary; see ZAIA 2015:37– 48 (with literature). 64 ZAIA 2015:29; see also BERLEJUNG 2012:129–152. 65 Cf. DELCOR 1964:136–154. 66 Walter Dietrich may also serve as an example of this idea: “In antiquity, after winning a battle, significant pieces of the spoils were often displayed in the temples of their own deities.”

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after winning a battle, significant pieces of the spoils were often displayed in the temples of their own deities.”67 Yet the study did not proceed beyond these observations. It has since become clear that that the majority of the evidence for this practice stems from Assyrian sources, especially from the Neo-Assyrian Empire.68 A total of 56 epigraphic and iconographic attestations of the practice relating to Assyrian rulers are presently known, coming primarily through Assyrian royal inscriptions and occasionally royal correspondences, chronicles, or palace reliefs.69 Evidence for the practice frequently emerges from the “Great Kings” of the eighth and seventh centuries: seven attestations from Tiglath-Pileser III, four from Sargon II, ten from Sennacherib, five70 from Esarhaddon, and four from Assurbanipal. This includes evidence for the first time concerning the southern Levant, and Samaria particular. The Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions from the second half of the eighth century attest to a common practice of godnapping, with the cities of Gaza, Ashkelon, and Ashdod specifically finding mention.71 Regarding capital of the Northern Kingdom, Samaria, that was conquered in 722 or 720 BCE, the Summary Inscription of the Nimrud Prism reports the following: Nimrud Prism 4:31–33: 25 [The inhabitants of Sa]merina […] 31[2]7280 people, together with [their] chariots, 32and the gods in whom they trusted, as spoil 33I counted.

The abducted deities of Samaria appear as usual within an enumerative list of the spoils of war. The phrase “in whom they trusted” (u ilāni tiklīšun72) is also known from other contexts referring to the Assyrians’ own deities, thus providing information about the respect afforded to the statues as such,73 even when deported as loot. Some scholars such as Manfred Weippert74 (referencing Stefan Timm’s objections75) consider the mention of the deportation of the deities from Samaria to be a standardizing ideological topos with no historical significance. Yet, the mention of god deportation does not appear in the parallel versions of the conquest of Samaria in the Annals (l. 15–1676) and the Great Summary Inscription (l. 2477) from Dur Šarrukin (modern day Khorsabad), thus possibly 67

DIETRICH 2011:269. See JOHNSON 2011:178. For a current detailed discussion as well as linguistic and historical evaluations of the Neo-Assyrian evidence, see ZAIA 2015:28–54. 69 The basic stock of god deportations being found in the compilation in HOLLOWAY 2002:123–144. 70 HOLLOWAY 2002 only mentions four attestations, but one more has become known since Holloway’s publication, in which Esarhaddon reports of the deportation of deities from a group of unidentified kings (LEICHTY 2011:iv 78–v 9). Reference to Leichty can be found in ZAIA 2015:28, fn. 32. 71 See BECKING 1997:162–169; UEHLINGER 1998:739–776; 2002:92–125; KÖCKERT 2009:380– 389; LEUENBERGER 2016:290–294. 72 On this translation, see BECKING 1997:164–165 (“the gods in whom they trusted”); likewise, UEHLINGER 1998:742–743: “Den Göttern, den sie vertrauten”; WEIPPERT 2010:301 however translates with “den Göttern, ihren Helfern [the gods, their helpers].” 73 BECKING 1997:165. 74 WEIPPERT 2010:301. 75 TIMM 2004:229–236. 76 For the annals, see FUCHS 1994:89–90. 77 For the summary inscription, see FUCHS 1994:197; and WEIPPERT 2010:302. 68

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vouching for some historical authenticity. This possibility had already in 1954 been considered by Cyril John Gadd, the first publisher of the prism.78 Also well-known are visual representations of this practice tied to Assyrian activity in the southern Levant, as shown with the wall relief from Nineveh (Room 10, slab 11) ascribed to Sennacherib depicting the deportation of statues from Ashkelon79 as well as other Judean cities.80 A relief from Tiglath-Pileser III’s palace in Nimrud shows the deportation of deities by Assyrian soldiers, which studies have often connected with Tiglath-Pileser’s capture of Gaza in 732 BCE.81 Nevertheless, Angelika Berlejung has recently presented arguments that could speak to an iconographic depiction of a northern Syrian city (like Unki or Arpad) from which Tiglath-Pileser had gods deported.82 Christoph Uehlinger has suggested that a relief from Sargon II’s palace in Dur Šarrukin (Room 5, slab 4U: upper register) illustrates the conquest of Samaria described in the Nimrud Prism as well as the removal of the god statues.83 The “stereotypical arm position, indicating holding a tray-like object” immediately recognizable in the relief suggests within the context of comparable iconographic depictions that the relief “had originally shown the deportation of a relatively small cult statue from the city depicted in plates 6–8.” 84 Because of the fragmentary nature of the relief, caution is naturally required when weighting the value of this argument, even if the presentation of the geography in Plates 6–8 strongly indicates Samaria as the depicted city (of course, another possibility is the depiction of the conquest of Hamath). Even so, this results in a cohesive picture pointing to the Neo-Assyrians conducting the practice of the cult statuary deportation in the southern Levant during the eighth and seventy centuries.

5. “Godnapping” as the Cultural and Religio-Political Model for the Ark Narrative These findings satisfy the prerequisites for the possibility of the practice’s reception. More references to the described practice are to be found in the Ark Narrative: (1) The characterization of the Ark in the narrative thinks of YHWH himself as present alongside it. This is not as present in the original “catastrophe narrative” of 1 Sam 4*, in which the Ark essentially acts as a war palladium. However, 1 Sam 4:3b quite

78

GADD 1954:181. For positive historical evaluations of this statement, see also BECK1997:165; and UEHLINGER 1998:743. LEUENBERGER 2016:289 points out as a reinforcing argument that only six of the approx. one hundred and fifty conquest reports from Sargon II speak of godnapping. 79 Illustration in ORNAN 2005:fig. 118. 80 Illustration in ORNAN 2005:fig. 119–120. 81 Cf. UEHLINGER 2002:94–127; 2017:24. 82 BERLEJUNG 2012:156–160. 83 UEHLINGER 1998:760.764 (rationale on pp. 744–771). 84 UEHLINGER 1998:764.

ING

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apparently appears to be insinuating that YHWH is thought to be present upon the Ark and thus in Israel’s midst during battle: 1 Sam 4:3b:

‫ִנ קְ ָחה אֵ לֵינוּ מִ ִשּׁ`ה אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן בְּ ִרית ְיהוָה‬ ‫וְ יָב ֹא בְ קִ ְר ֵבּ נוּ וְ ֹי ִשׁﬠֵנוּ מִ ַכּף ֹא ְי ֵבינוּ׃‬

Let us bring the ark of YHWH’s covenant here from Shiloh, So that he may come within our midst and save us from the hand of our enemies.

YHWH is then explicitly and emphatically mentioned as the acting agent within the context of 1 Sam 5:1–7:1: YHWH “smote” the Philistines (‫ נכה‬Hiph.; 1 Sam 5:6.9; 6:19), and YHWH’s direct intervention is recounted through the metaphor of the divine hand (‫ ;יַד־ ְיהוָה‬1 Sam 5:6.7.9.11; 6:9; cf. 1 Sam 6:3.5). In 1 Sam 5:10 and 1 Sam 6:9, both of which speak of actively-caused misfortune, the same grammatical gender of both ‫ֲארוֹן‬ and ‫ ֱא`הִ ים‬leaves open whether the actor is the Ark or God himself.85 As opposed to 1 Sam 4*, the predominant idea here is the way in which YHWH is thought to always be present upon the Ark; that is, it is seen (at least as a representation of the presence of YHWH) as a statue of a deity. Julius Wellhausen had already pointed out that in 1 Sam 5–6, the Ark “is equated with Yahweh himself more blatantly than anywhere else in the O.T.”86 For Wellhausen, however, this served as an argument against the connection of 2 Sam 6 to the Ark Narrative in 1 Sam. Nevertheless, the same element is found in 2 Sam 6, where the primary actor is YHWH (and not chiefly the Ark). With the transfer of the Ark to Jerusalem, YHWH himself comes to reside in Jerusalem. See the following examples: In 2 Sam 6:2.5 the procession of the Ark going to celebrate “before YHWH”; 2 Sam 6:7.8.9.11: YHWH’s burning anger; 2 Sam 6:11.12: YHWH, who blesses the house of Obed-edom; 2 Sam 6:17: the burnt offering after the presentation of the Ark “before YHWH.” (2) The entire narrative setup already alludes to its godnapping background, since the (naturally aniconic) statue of the Israelite deity is captured in 1 Sam 4:11 and embarks on a journey through enemy territory – already in 1 Sam 4:21, the nature of this deportation is played upon with the name ‫“( ִאי־כָבוֹד‬God is gone”; Brueggemann). This is repeated and reinforced in the redactional addition of 1 Sam 4:22 (“The glory has been taken away from Israel” = ‫ ) ָגּלָה כָבוֹד ִמ ִיּ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬in order to develop this theme of abduction narratively in 1 Sam 5:1ff. To put it like Walter Brueggemann, with 1 Sam 5–6 in view: “YHWH is a prisoner of war on exhibit.”87 As in the comparable texts from Assyria, even though the Ark is taken as loot, it is handled respectfully and not harmed. With these references to the phenomenon of godnapping, the text plays on the audience’s expectations and turns them on their head: the victorious nation does not ultimately triumph over the population of Israel, but rather, the entire Philistine population suffers under the strength of the allegedly powerless Israelite deity (1 Sam 5:1–12). The abduction is no longer a demonstration of power by the Philistine lords, but instead results in them needing to return it to its homeland (1 Sam 6:1–11). YHWH is not deprived of his 85

On these observations, see also DIETRICH 2011:259. WELLHAUSEN 1899:238. 87 BRUEGGEMANN 2002:26. 86

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181

power, which is normally a critical aspect of the godnapping practice, but rather is powerful even without his own people. The Ark even makes its way back to its people on its own (1 Sam 6:12–7:1). (3) In the context of these references, the episode in the Dagon temple is striking (1 Sam 5:3–5.7b). Here the defeat of the Philistine god opposite YHWH is reported, in which his statue first falls over “on his face” (‫)דָ גוֹן ֹנ ֵפל לְ ָפנָיו אַ ְרצָ ה‬, performing proskynesis before YHWH as the deity represented by the Ark, and is then ultimately destroyed (v. 4); the word combination ‫ ארצה‬and ‫ נפל‬in a comparable hierarchical context is only found in Josh 7:6, where Joshua is kneeling before the Ark. The episode in the Dagon temple told with a good dose of irony throughout,88 reversing the symbolic power of victory and defeat. Yet the episode itself is evidence of another and particularly later traditio-historical perspective of the idol/god image polemic, which can already be understood as monotheistic. This is to a certain degree reminiscent of the god-image polemic in Deutero-Isaiah (Isa 40:19–20; 42:17; 44:9–20; 46:1–2; 48:3–5). An immediate literary dependence upon Isaiah, as argued by Wolfgang Zwickel,89 cannot be proven; and considering the lack of any direct literary references a direct interdependence between Sam and Deutero-Isaiah also less likely – rather, both polemical schemes originate from a comparable intellectual milieu in the post-exilic period. Be this as it may, the original Ark Narrative is not (primarily) interested in a divine conflict between the main Philistine and Israelite deities; this is also true for the Neo-Assyrian practice of godnapping, which the Ark Narrative is reflecting on. The deportation of the respective god statue(s) serves to demoralize the defeated and subjected nation – destruction of the statues by the Assyrians only is attested in only a few exceptional cases.90 Additionally, 1 Sam 5 only speaks of the population of Philistia (and not their god[s]) as being affected by the “blows” of the Ark: v. 6:

‫אַשׁדּוֹדִ ים‬ ְ ‫ַו ִתּכְ ַבּד יַד־ ְיהוָה אֶ ל־ ָה‬

The hand of YHWH was heavy upon the inhabitants of Ashdod […]. v. 9a:

‫ַו ְיהִ י אַח ֲֵרי ֵהסַ בּוּ ֹאתוֹ‬ ‫ַו ְתּהִ י יַד־ ְיהוָה ָבּﬠִ יר מְ הוּמָ ה גְּ דוֹלָה מְ ֹאד‬

And after they brought it [i.e., the Ark] [there91], the hand of YHWH caused a very great panic in the city […].

88

STOLZ 1980:45. ZWICKEL 1994:238. 90 From these very few known exceptions, only two stem from Assyrian contexts (under Assurbanipal and Esarhaddon) (ZAIA 2015:37–48). 91 Specifically, the city of Gath (cf. 1 Sam 5:8b); 4QSama clarifies here with the addition “Gath” ( ‫)גתה‬, cf. DIETRICH 2011:255. 89

182 v. 10:

Benedikt Hensel ‫ַו ְישַׁ ְלּ חוּ אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן ָהאֱ`הִ ים ֶﬠ קְ רוֹן ַו ְיהִ י כְּ בוֹא אֲרוֹן ָהאֱ`הִ ים ﬠֶקְ רוֹן ַו ִיּ ְזﬠֲקוּ ָהﬠֶקְ ֹר ִנים לֵא ֹמר ֵה סַ בּוּ אֵ לַי אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן‬ ‫ֱא ` ֵהי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל ַלהֲמִ יתֵ ִני וְ אֶ ת־ ַﬠמִּ י׃‬

And they sent the ark of God to Ekron. And as the ark of God came to Ekron, the inhabitants of Ekron cried out, saying “They have sent the ark of the god of Israel to me,92 to kill me and my people.” v. 11b:

‫שַׁ ְלּ חוּ אֶ ת־אֲרוֹן אֱ` ֵהי ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬ ‫שׁב ִלמְ ֹקמוֹ וְ ל ֹא־יָמִ ית ֹא ִתי וְ אֶ ת־ ַﬠמִּ י כִּ י־ ָה ְי תָ ה מְ הוּמַ ת־מָ וֶת בְּ כָל־ ָהﬠִ יר ָכּבְ דָ ה מְ ֹאד יַד ָה ֱא `הִ ים שָׁ ם׃‬ ֹ ָ‫וְ י‬

“Send the ark of the god of Israel away, so that it returns to its place and does not kill me and my93 people.” And there was a deathly panic across the whole city; the hand of God was very heavy there.

The Dagon episode with is monotheistic and iconoclastic tendency is thus secondary in character. This appears also plausible from a literary-critical perspective, as the relevant verses in 5:3–5.7b are not well integrated into their context and may easily be removed without disrupting narrative coherence.94 (4) The depicted inversion of the godnapping concept in 1 Sam 4–6 is played out in 2 Sam 6: the Ark does not only return to its homeland, but is also brought to its resting place in a way that is almost liturgical: Admittedly, the first attempt at transferring the Ark goes awry (2 Sam 6:4–11), and David “was afraid before YHWH” (‫ ; ַו ִיּ ָרא דָ וִ ד אֶ ת־ ְיהוָה בַּ יּוֹם הַ הוּא‬2 Sam 6:9, cf. the fear of the Philistines before the Ark, and through it, the god of Israel: 1 Sam 4:7; 5:7; 6:13; root ‫ירא‬/Q). However, David assumes leadership of the procession in the second attempt, acting as the leader of the cultic/religious dancing (2 Sam 6:12.13.14.16b). As soon as the Ark reaches its proper location, he takes over the priestly role by presenting the burnt offering in v. 17 (cf. v. 13b) and bestowing the blessing upon the people who are present in v. 18. The Michal episode in 2 Sam 6:20–23 is secondary in this context and transitions already to the dynastic question (with the issue of childlessness in v. 23) from 2 Sam 7.95 The Ark Narrative thus concludes with the Ark’s installation in Jerusalem by king David. This setting conforms in its details with the thought world of ancient Near Eastern royal ideology96 (Miller/Roberts and Schäfer-Lichtenberger), especially with the consecration of sanctuaries and royal palaces attested in Neo-Assyrian texts, where the placement of cult statues in the new royal capital plays a critical role (Miller/Roberts). The closest parallels can be found with the inauguration of new capital cities in the Neo92

The first-person singular in ‫ אֵ לַי‬as well as the first-person singular suffix in the subsequent ‫ַלהֲמִ יתֵ ִני‬ and ‫ ַﬠמִּ י‬in the MT should be taken as collective singular. The LXX corrects all these forms with the plural, as also previously offered by the MT (v. 10a). 93 As in v. 10, the collective singular is used. The LXX again corrects this to the first-person plural: καὶ οὐ μὴ θανατώσῃ ἡμᾶς καὶ τὸν λαὸν ἡμῶν. 94 Cf. also PORZIG 2009:143: The episode does not belong “to the traditio-historical bedrock of the narrative”; see also SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER 2003:328, fn. 25. 95 As in DIETRICH 2019:562–564. FISCHER 2003:104–106 even understands the Michal episode as a late-postexilic addition via a reflection of priestly terminology; this is received positively by PORZIG 2009:62. 96 On Judean royal ideology in its ancient Near Eastern context, see now also SALO 2017.

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183

Assyrian period.97 For one such ceremony, Sargon II (722–705 BCE) invited Ashur and the other main gods to attend the inauguration of his residence in Dur Šarrukin/Khorsabad. He paid them tribute with offerings, followed by a banquet with music. Sennacherib (705–681 BCE) commemorated Nineveh’s dedication as the capital similarly,98 and Esarhaddon (681–669 BCE) celebrated the construction of his new palace in Nineveh likewise with processions, offerings, and feasts.99 These instances accord both temporally and functionally with the Neo-Assyrian practice of god deportation in the southern Levant, also situated in this period. 2 Sam 6 ultimately illustrates the reversal of god deportation through the return of the Israelite cult statue. Subsequently, the “godnapping” is turned on its head: YHWH’s ark is not deported, but comes to stand at its place, ‫מָ קוֹם‬, in Jerusalem, to which 2 Sam 6:17 adheres in taking up the destination of the Ark (“to its place,” ‫)לִ ְמקוֹמוֹ‬. In the form of the Ark, YHWH cultically “takes possession” of Jerusalem.100 The formerlydeported Ark has once again been entrusted to priestly care, this time in the hands of David. This closes the narrative circle that began with the Ark going missing from its priesthood (the Elides) in 1 Sam 4. It is possible that this reference to the location of the Ark “inside the tent” and “in its place” (v. 17) should be understood as already anticipating it actual maqom, the Jerusalem temple. At any rate, the ark is “brought to its place” in the temple (‫ָיּבִ אוּ הַ ֹכּ ֲה ִנים אֶ ת־‬ ‫ל־מקוֹמוֹ‬ ְ ֶ‫ ) ֲארוֹן בְּ ִרית־ ְיהוָה א‬in 1 Kgs 8:6 using the same formulation as in 2 Sam 6:17. The divine epithet “one enthroned upon the cherubim” in 1 Sam 4:4 // 2 Sam 6:2, here serving no purpose, may also be pointing ahead to the temple in Jerusalem.101 The Ark is moved there in 1 Kgs 8:6b, “beneath the wings of the cherubim” (‫)אֶ ל־תַּ חַ ת ַכּ ְנ ֵפי הַ כְּ רוּבִ ים‬. Bernd J. Diebner is even considering whether the designation of the Ark’s place as “in the tent” (‫ הָ אֹ הֶ ל‬R‫ ;בְּ תוֹ‬2 Sam 6:17), which he sees as an allusion to the tabernacle, may already be prefiguring the Jerusalem temple.102 (5) Finally, a reference to the deportation of god-images in 2 Sam 5 is particularly remarkable since 2 Sam 5 is typically understood as the ending of the so-called “History of David’s Rise” (1 Sam 16–2 Sam 5), which is not considered part of the Ark Narrative. It is reported within the context of the David’s military conflicts with the Philistines that David ultimately vanquished every enemy of Israel (2 Sam 5:17–25). Yet after the defeat of the Philistines, the following happens: 2 Sam 5:21

‫ַויַּ ַﬠזְבוּ־שָׁ ם אֶ ת־ﬠֲ ַצ ֵבּי ֶהם ַו ִיּשָּׂ אֵ ם דָּ וִ ד ַו ֲא ָנשָׁ יו׃‬

And there they abandoned their idols, but David and his men carried the idols away.

97

LUCKENBILL 1927:§ 94.98.101. LUCKENBILL 1927:§ 370.403.416. 99 LUCKENBILL 1927:§ 699. 100 AHLSTRÖM 1984:145–146. 101 On this, see RÖMER 2019:102–103; DIETRICH 2019:561–562. 102 Cf. DIEBNER 1989/90:81–92. 98

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Oftentimes, the only thing noted about the verse is how it was common practice to, per Shimon Bar-Efrat, “bring the gods onto the battlefield, so that they could help the combatants.”103 Fritz Stolz sees the “idols” as “sacred field standards,”104 and Silvia Schroer “larger but transportable god-images.”105 When seen within the context as proposed in this article, the reference to the practice of godnapping becomes much more significant. The circumstances since 1 Sam 4 have been completely reversed; the spoil of war, “YHWH,” is returning home, and the former victors are now being subjected to their own practice by the king/priest pretender to the throne, David: it is now him that is deporting the gods of the foreign invaders, the Philistines. In this context it is remarkable, that 2 Sam 5:21 employs the disparaging term “idols” (‫)עצבים‬. This is striking, as the practice of god-image deportation does not assume the invalidity of the statues or otherwise treat them contemptuously (as also in the wider narrative context of 1 Sam 4:1–7:1). To the contrary, the LXX (τοὺς θεοὺς αὐτῶν) as well as the Latin edition L115 (deos suos) and 1 Chr 14:12 (‫ )אֶ ת־ ֱא`הֵ יהֶ ם‬speak of the deportation of “their gods.” Given the overall theological and ideological context of the Ark Narrative and its cultural-historical background, the LXX and the Latin version represent likely the original reading.106 The “idols” of the Masoretic Text incorporate (similar to that in 1 Sam 5) the god-image polemic of a later period. The deportation of Philistine cult statuary in 2 Sam 5:21 thus constitutes a narrative bracket arching back to 1 Sam 4. Within the Books of Samuel, the practice of deportation occurs only here and in 1 Sam 4ff. This corresponds with the fate of the “Philistine threat”: the Philistines were first introduced in 1 Sam 4 within the context of the Ark narrative; their ultimate defeat is accordingly narrated in 2 Sam 5, also within the context of the Ark Narrative, right before its transfer to Jerusalem. A question arises from these observations concerning how these findings relate to the HDR, usually understood as containing 2 Sam 5. Addressing this question in detail would reach far beyond the scope of this article. The references suggest that at least the episode about the David’s war with the Philistines (2 Sam 5:17–25) was part of the original Ark Narrative, especially given that vv. 17–25 is taken up immediately in 2 Sam 6:1: here it is mentioned that David “again assembled all 30,000 chosen men from Israel” (‫ – ) ַו ֹיּסֶ ף עוֹד דָּ וִ ד אֶ ת־ ָכּל־בָּ חוּר בְּ ִי ְשׂ ָראֵ ל ְשׁ` ִשׁים אָלֶף‬this time, however, not to go into battle against the Philistines (2 Sam 5:21) but to have the Ark retrieved from Baale-judah. The HDR (insofar as it is still possible to speak of originally-independent sources107) could have ended with David’s occupation of Jerusalem right before (2 Sam 5:1–16); Rost had already suggested that the ending of the HDR ending may be found in v. 10.108 It is thus

103

BAR-EFRAT 2009:61. STOLZ 1980:211. 105 SCHROER 1992:149. 106 HUTZLI 2010:223–224 also argues for the primacy of the LXX and L115, but from different grounds. 107 See KRATZ 2000:176 among others for the established objections. 108 However, Rost contradicts himself: “The narrative threat that reports of David’s rise ends in 2 Sam 5:10,” while also including vv. 13–16 as a subdued conclusion as well as the mention of the battles with the Philistines in vv. 17–25 (both in ROST 1926:125). 104

The Ark Narrative(s) of 1 Sam *4:1b–7:1 / 2 Sam 6*

185

a plausible assumption, that the end of the Ark Narrative (2 Sam 5:17–6:19) would have been redactionally attached to it at a later point.

6. Conclusion The outcomes of this study may be summarized as follows: (1) An original, self-contained “catastrophe narrative” (Dietrich) in 1 Sam 4:1b–6a.9– 21 constituted the oldest layer of tradition in the narrative, telling of the fate of Israel and the Elides and reported of the loss of the war palladium during a battle. This was then supplemented with 1 Sam 4:22 and 1 Sam 5:1–7:1 (without the later addition of 1 Sam 5:2–5.7b) to the “first edition” of the “Ark Narrative.” This Ark Narrative extended beyond 1 Sam 7:1 (Kiriath-Jearim), and its ending is preserved in 2 Sam 5:17–25; 6:1–19. The Ark Narrative should thus be understood as a formerly independent source; otherwise, it is hardly imaginable that Samuel, the primary protagonist in the rest of the immediate narrative context, would not appear here. (2) This narrative was subjected to a series of smaller expansions, including possibly the references to the exodus narrative (if these were not already part of the redaction that extended 1 Sam 4* into the first edition of the Ark Narrative in the first place). These expansions almost exclusively relate to its editorial integration into the context of the Samuel/Saul story, as well as the HDR and the Succession Narrative. The polemic against images of gods reflected in 1 Sam 5:3–5.7b and 2 Sam 5:21 MT is certainly the result of a later revision. There is not room in the present essay to discuss how the Ark Narrative in 1 Sam 4–6* was incorporated into the Samuel/Saul story, but recent studies have been able to show that the oldest Saul tradition109 did not yet know of the Philistine threat.110 Even so, scholars such as Hannes Bezzel and Peter Porzig have assumed that 1 Sam 4* (without 1 Sam 5–6*) was added rather quickly into the Saul tradition, and then immediately connected with 1 Sam 9:1ff (due to the trouble with the Philistines mentioned in 1 Sam 9:16).111 Bezzel and Porzig have both pointed to the need to introduce the Philistine threat into the Saul tradition via 1 Sam 4*, since the conflict with the Philistines already stands in the background of 1 Sam 9 (cf. also 1 Sam 13*). Nevertheless, 1 Sam 4* introduces the Philistines as antagonists just as suddenly as 1 Sam 9:16 itself or, further on, 1 Sam 13*. To phrase it differently: In 1 Sam 4, the Philistines are afforded no proper introduction whatsoever; the conflict between Israel and the 109

On this, see BEZZEL 2015. See BEZZEL 2015:233: “The oldest Saul tradition knows of Saul’s successful fight against the Ammonites, but not of an oppression of Israel by the Philistines. However, this does become the theme of the expanded Samuel/Saul cycle” (on this also pp. 206–207). 111 Cf. BEZZEL 2015:193.231.233; PORZIG 2009:122.153; see also KRATZ 2000:176 (each identifying the core material of 1 Sam 4 differently). 110

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Philistines serves merely as the starting point for the “catastrophe narrative.” Furthermore, why would 1 Sam 4* supplement the earliest Saul tradition with the loss of the Ark (1 Sam 4:21), only for it to not be picked back up elsewhere in the Saul narrative? Even the later redactional addition of 1 Sam 5:1–7:1* lacks any mention of Saul or Samuel, despite their crucial roles in the Saul narrative. These observations can be more plausibly explained through the integration of 1 Sam 4 into the Saul narrative only at a later point in time, once it was already part of the Ark Narrative. This case will require, however, further literary-historical investigation. (3) The cultural-historically notable and religio-politically potent practice of the deportation of cult statuary was identified as the motific model that not only guides the original Ark Narrative in a functional and factual-theological sense, but also situates the narrative within a specific timeframe. Godnapping serves as the identification badge of Neo-Assyrian expansionism that reached into perceptual horizon of the southern Levant from the last third of the eighth century BCE and into the seventh century. (4) Three observations on the purpose of the Ark Narrative can be made here: a.

The Power of YHWH: The narrative proves YHWH to be a powerful deity in spite of deportation by his enemies as well as being without his people – an idea theologically highly controversial in ancient thought. He autonomously returns back to Israel.

b.

Jerusalem as the new cultic center of “Israel” (after 722 and 701 BCE): The return of the “god” in the form of the Ark qualifies Jerusalem as the legitimate center for YHWH-worship in Israel. Context-wise, this functions best in the period after the fall of the Northern Kingdom in 722 BCE, reflecting the transfer of the cult from a major sanctuary of the North (Shiloh; 1 Sam 4) to the cultic center of the South (Jerusalem; 2 Sam 6). This “return” of JHWH to Jerusalem is already a reflection of Zion theology, which, following Othmar Keel112 among others113 is conceivable in principle given the unexpected withdrawal of the Assyrian army outside Jerusalem in 701 BCE. The authors of the first edition of the Ark Narrative are thus most likely to be identified in the court of Hezekiah or Josiah – though since the description of the “god statues” does not yet display any iconoclastic features, the first possibility seems to be the most likely. It also cannot be ruled out in principle that there was also a certain interest during the time of Manasseh to define Judean claims to being the cultic center of “Israel”; though because of the critical, anti-Assyrian slant of the Ark Narrative, the authors are not likely to have come from the proAssyrian court of Manasseh, but rather from contemporary anti-Assyrian groups.

112

KEEL 2007. See SCHMID 2019:359–370 for a differentiation of the history of Zion theology between theology and research. 113

The Ark Narrative(s) of 1 Sam *4:1b–7:1 / 2 Sam 6*

187

c.

Anti-Assyrianism: The Ark Narrative plainly criticizes Assyrian supremacy. This becomes clear with the inclusion of the godnapping practice as a narrative model, previously identified with Neo-Assyrian expansionism. In this context of the narrative, the Philistines function primarily as reflections of the Assyrians. In any case, very little specific information about the Philistines is available in the Ark Narrative, reinforcing the idea of the Philistines as “stand-ins”: In the Ark Narrative (as well as in the Bible in general), the Philistines are part of an alienating, onesided biblical depiction of Israel and Judah, for whom the Philistines were enemies.114 Nevertheless, the Philistines were not a culturally-homogenous group.115 Even the picture of a unified and organized Philistine Pentapolis insinuated by 1 Sam 5–6 is artificial. The cities of the Philistine Pentapolis exhibit differences in the repertoire designated as “Philistine pottery.”116 The so-called “Late Philistine Decorated Ware” of the Iron Age IIA–IIB shows clear local varieties between the ceramics of the inland areas (Ekron, Gath) and coastal areas (Ashdod, Yavne).117 In contrast to the biblical depiction, where the Philistines are typically described as great and powerful enemies of Israel, there actually appear to have been close trade relations between Judeans and the coastal plain, especially in oil and wine.118 During in the Iron Age IIA/IIB, some pottery types found use across both the “Philistine” cities and the Judean Shephelah.119

d.

Rejecting Philistia’s influence on Judah after 701 BCE: Nevertheless, the mention of the Philistines in the Ark Narrative is not limited to functioning as a stand-in for Assyria. The text plainly criticizes the Philistines as well, hence the west-east movement in the 1 Sam 5:1–7:1 narrative: It is known that after various uprisings against Assyria towards the close of the eighth century, the Philistines were defeated first by Sargon II, and then ultimately by Sennacherib in 701 BCE. Sennacherib installed rulers loyal to Assyria in each of the cities, thus securing a buffer zone of loyal citystates along the border with Egypt. These Philistine cities later contributed to the military forces supporting the Assyrians that went down into Egypt with Assurbanipal in 667 BCE.120 Most importantly, Philistia was allocated large sections of the Judean territory conquered by Sennacherib, including the Shephelah. Even Gath (1 Sam 5:7–8), which was likely under Judean control during the reign of Hezekiah, was returned to Philistia by Sennacherib.121 After 701 BCE, the Judeans must have

114 On the hostile depiction of the Philistines in biblical literature as well as the complex historical relationship between Philistia, the Shephelah, and Judah, see NIEMANN 2002:70–91; 2013:243–264. For the reflection of the Philistines in the Bible, see the historical-critical outline in EHRLICH 1996; as well as the evaluation of the biblical evidence in FINKELSTEIN 2002:131–167. 115 See KILLEBREW 1996:51–92 and VIEWEGER 2019:28–36 for current overviews of “Sea Peoples”/“Philistines” material culture and discussions of the biblical evidence. 116 MOUNTJOY 2010:1–12. 117 BEN-SHLOMO/SHAI/MAEIR 2004:1–35. 118 On the findings from the Iron Age IIB, cf. VIEWEGER 2019:117–123. 119 GITIN 2015:258–259. 120 Cf. BEN-SHLOMO 2013:713.715–716 for the historical processes. 121 LEVIN 2017:232–240; CHADWICK/MAEIR 2018:48–55.

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seen the Philistines as opportunists, representatives of Assyria, or at the very least local Assyrian sympathizers. As the Ark Narrative de facto exposes, the practice of godnapping as ineffective, Assyria’s and Philistia’s claims on Judean territory are likewise repudiated. This in turn supports the observation already noted above that the Ark Narrative dates after 701 BCE, but probably not much later than these events.

Bibliography AHLSTRÖM, G.W. (1984), The Travels of the Ark: A Religio-Political Composition, JNES 43, 141– 149. BAR-EFRAT, S. (2009), Das Zweite Buch Samuel: Ein narratologisch-philologischer Kommentar (BWANT 181), Stuttgart. BECKING, B. (1997), Assyrian Evidence for Iconic Polytheism in Ancient Israel?, in: K. VAN DER TOORN (ed.), The Image and the Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East (CBET 21), Leuven, 157–171. BEN-SHLOMO, D. (2013), Art. “Philistia during the Iron Age II Period”, in: M.L. STEINER/A.E. KILLEBREW (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of the Levant (c.8000–332 BCE), Oxford, 712–723. BEN-SHLOMO, D./SHAI, I./MAEIR, A.M. (2004), Late Philistine Decorated Ware (Ashdod Ware): Typology, Chronology, and Production Centers, BASOR 335, 1–35. BERLEJUNG, A. (1998), Die Theologie der Bilder: Herstellung und Einweihung von Kultbildern in Mesopotamien und die alttestamentliche Bilderpolemik (OBO 162), Fribourg/Göttingen. BERLEJUNG, A. (2012), Shared Fates: Gaza and Ekron as Examples for the Assyrian Religious Policy in the West, in: N.N. MAY (ed.), Iconoclasm and Text Destruction in the Ancient Near East and Beyond: Papers from the Oriental Institute Seminar Held at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, April 8–9, 2011 (Oriental Institute Seminars 8), Chicago, 129–152. BEZZEL, H. (2015), Saul: Israels König in Tradition, Redaktion und früher Rezeption (FAT 97), Tübingen. BODNER, K. (2008), Mouse Trap: A Text-critical Problem in the Ark Narrative, Journal of Theological Studies 59, 634–349. BRUEGGEMANN, W. (2002), Ichabod Toward Home. The Journey of God’s Glory, Grand Rapids/Cambridge. CAMPBELL, A.F. (1975), The Ark Narrative (1 Sam 4–6; 2 Sam 6). A Form-Critical and Traditio-Historical Study (SBL – Dissertation Series 16), Missoula. CAMPBELL, A.F. (2003), 1 Samuel (FOTL 7), Grand Rapids/Michigan. CHADWICK, J.R./MAEIR, A.M. (2018), Judahite Gath in the Eighth Century B.C.E.: Finds in Area F from the Earthquake to the Assyrians, NEA 81/1, 48–55. COGAN, M. (1974), Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah, and Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B.C.E. (SBL –Monograph Series 19), Missoula. DELCOR, M. (1964), Jahweh et Dagon (ou le Jahwisme face à la religion des Philistins d’après 1 Sam. V), VT 14, 136–154. DIEBNER, B.J. (1989/90), Anmerkungen zum Zeitpunkt der Rückkehr des aron YHWH nach ‘Israel’, DBAT 26, 81–92. DIETRICH, W. (2011), Samuel, Vol. 1: 1 Samuel 1–12 (BKAT VII/1), Göttingen. DIETRICH, W. (2014), Die Vorderen Propheten, in: W. DIETRICH et al. (eds.), Die Entstehung des Alten Testaments. Neuausgabe, Stuttgart, 167–282. DIETRICH, W. (2019), Samuel, Vol. 3: 1 Samuel 27–2 Samuel 8 (BKAT VII/3), Göttingen. EHRLICH, C.S. (1996), Philistia in Transition: A History of the Philistines, Leiden.

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EHRLICH, C.S. (2007), Die Philister und ihr Kult, in: M. WITTE/J. DIEHL (eds.), Israeliten und Phönizier: Ihre Beziehungen im Spiegel der Archäologie und der Literatur des Alten Testaments und seiner Umwelt (OBO 235), Fribourg/Göttingen, 253–271. EYNIKEL, E. (2000), The Relation between the Eli Narratives (1 Sam. 1–4) and the Ark Narrative (1 Sam. 1–6; 2 Sam. 6:1–19), in: J.C. DE MOOR et al. (eds.), Past, Present, Future: The Deuteronomistic History and the Prophets: Papers read at a meeting held Aug. 25–27, 1999 in Pretoria, South Africa (OTS 44), Leiden, 88–106. FANTALKIN, A. (2004), The Final Destruction of Beth-Shemesh and the Pax Assyriaca in the Judahite Shephelah: An Alternative View, TA 31(2), 245–261. FINKELSTEIN, I. (2002), The Philistines in the Bible: A Late-Monarchic Perspective, JSOT 27(2), 131– 167. FINKELSTEIN, I. (2018), The Shmunis Family Excavations at Kiriath-Jearim 2017, in: A. ARAD/A. WRATHALL (eds.), TAU Archaeology: The Newsletter of the Jacob M. Alkow Department of Archaeology and Ancient Near Eastern Cultures and The Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology (2018), 5. FINKELSTEIN, I./RÖMER, T. et al. (2018), Excavations at Kiriath-jearim near Jerusalem, 2017: Preliminary Report, Semitica 60, 31–83. FISCHER, A.A (2003)., Von Hebron nach Jerusalem: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Studie zu Erzählung von König David in II Sam 1–5 (BZAW 335), Berlin et al. FLANAGAN, J.W. (1983), Social Transformation and Ritual in 2 Samuel 6, in: C.L. MEYERS/M. O’CONNOR (eds.), The Word of the Lord Shall Go forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday, Winona Lake, 361–372. FOHRER, G. (1982), Die Ladeerzählung (1971), in: G. FOHRER, Studien zu alttestamentlichen Texten und Themen (BZAW 155), Berlin, 3–10. FOKKELMAN, J. (1993), Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel, Vol. 4: Vow and Desire (1 Sam 1–12), Assen. FRITZ, V. (1994), Das Buch Josua (HAT 1/7), Tübingen. FUCHS, A. (1994), Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad, Göttingen. GADD, C.J. (1954), Inscribed Prisms of Sargon II from Nimrud, Iraq 16, 173–201. GITIN, S. (ed.) (2015), The Ancient Pottery of Israel and its Neighbors from the Iron Age through the Hellenistic Period I–II, Jerusalem. HENTSCHEL, G. (52004), Die Samuelbücher, in: E. ZENGER et al. (eds.), Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Stuttgart. HOLLOWAY, S.W. (2002), Aššur is King! Aššur is King!: Religion in the Exercise of Power in the NeoAssyrian Empire, Leiden. HUTZLI, J. (2007), Die Erzählung von Hanna und Samuel: Textkritische und literarkritische Analyse von 1. Samuel 1–2 unter Berücksichtigung des Kontextes (AThANT 89), Zürich. HUTZLI, J. (2010), Theologische Textänderungen im Masoretischen Text und in der Septuaginta von 1–2 Sam, in: P. HUGO/A. SCHENKER (eds.), Archaeology of the Books of Samuel: The Entangling of the Textual and Literary History of the Books of Samuel (VT.Sup 132), Leiden, 213–236. JOHNSON, E. (2011), Stealing the Enemy’s Gods: An Exploration of the Phenomenon of Godnap in Ancient Western Asia, PhD Dissertation, University of Birmingham. KEEL, O. (2007), Die Geschichte Jerusalems und die Entstehung des Monotheismus (OLB 4/1): Ein Handbuch und Studienreiseführer zum Heiligen Land, Göttingen. KEEL, O./UEHLINGER, C. (41997), Göttinnen, Götter und Gottessymbole. Neue Erkenntnisse zur Religionsgeschichte Kanaans und Israels aufgrund bislang unerschlossener ikonographischer Quellen (QD 134), Freiburg/Basel/Wien. KILLEBREW, A.E. (1996), Biblical Peoples and Ethnicity: An Archaeological Study of Egyptians, Canaanites Philistines, and Early Israel, Atlanta. KNITTEL, A.-K. (2019), Das erinnerte Heiligtum: Tradition und Geschichte der Kultstätte in Schilo (FRLANT 273), Göttingen.

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KOCH, I. (2017), Art. “Kiriath-Jearim”, in: EBR 15, 344. KÖCKERT, M. (2009), Vom Kultbild Jahwes zum Bilderverbot. Oder: Vom Nutzen der Religionsgeschichte für die Theologie, ZThK 106, 371–406. KRATZ, R.G. (2000), Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments (UTB 2157), Göttingen. KRAVITZ, K.F. (1999), Divine Trophies of War in Assyria and Ancient Israel: Case Studies in Political Theology, PhD Dissertation, Brandeis University. LAYARD, A.H. (1848/49), Nineveh and its Remains, Vol. 1–2, London. LEICHTY, E. (2011), The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–669 BC), Winona Lake. LEUENBERGER, M. (2016), “Siehe, das sind deine Götter, Israel, die dich heraufgeführt haben aus dem Land Ägypten” (1 Kön 12,28): Materielle und symbolische Repräsentationen Jhwhs in der offiziellstaatlichen Religion Israels, in: L. HIEPEL/M.-T. WACKER (eds.), Zwischen Zion und Zaphon: Studien im Gedenken an den Theologen Oswald Loretz (14.01.1928–12.04.2014) (AOAT 438), Münster, 287–310. LEVIN, Y. (2017), Gath of the Philistines in the Bible and on the Ground: The Historical Geography of Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath, NEA 80(4), 232–240. LIVINGSTONE, A. (1997), New Dimensions in the Study of Assyrian Religion, in: S. PARPOLA/R.M. WHITING (eds.), Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, Helsinki, September 7–11, 1995, Helsinki, 165–177. LUCKENBILL, D.D. (1927), Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia, Vol. II, Chicago. MCCARTER, P.K. (1980), I Samuel (AB VIII), New York et al. MCKINNY, C. et al. (2018), Kiriath-Jearim (Deir el-ʿÂzar): Archaeological Investigations of a Biblical Town in the Judaean Hill Country, IEJ 68, 30–49. MILLER, P.D./ROBERTS, J.J.M. (1977), The Hand of the Lord: A Reassessment of the ‘Ark Narrative’ of 1 Samuel, Baltimore. MOUNTJOY, P.A. (2010), A Note on the Mixed Origins of Some Philistine Pottery, BASOR 359, 1–12. MÜLLER, R. (2008), Art. “Eli/Eliden” (published December 2008), Wissenschaftliches Bibellexikon (www.wibilex.de) (accessed 26.09.2019). NIEMANN, H.M. (2002), Nachbarn und Gegner, Konkurrenten und Verwandte Judas: Die Philister zwischen Geographie und Ökonomie, Geschichte und Theologie, in: U. HÜBNER/E.A. KNAUF (eds.), Kein Land für sich allein: Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/Palästina und Ebirnâri für Man-fred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag (OBO 186), Fribourg/Göttingen 2002, 70–91. NIEMANN, H.M. (2013), Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin: Philistines, Shephelaeans, Judeans between Geography and Economy, History and Theology, in: A.E. KILLEBREW/G. LEHMANN (eds.), The Philistines and Other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology (SBL – ABS 15), Atlanta, 243– 264. NOTH, M. (1943), Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien, Part One: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament (Schriften der Königsberger Gelehrten Gesellschaft, Geisteswissenschaftliche Klasse 18,2), Halle/Saale. ORNAN, T. (2005), The Triumph of the Symbol: Pictorial Representation of Deities in Mesopotamia and the Biblical Image Ban (OBO 213), Fribourg/Göttingen. PORZIG, P. (2009), Die Lade Jahwes im Alten Testament und in den Texten vom Toten Meer (BZAW 397), Berlin. RAWLINSON, H.C. (1850), A Commentary on the Cuneiform Inscriptions of Babylon and Assyria: Including Readings of the of the Inscriptions of the Nimrud Obelisk, and a Brief Notice of the Ancient Kings of Niniveh and Babylon, London. RÖMER, T. (2019), L’Arche de Yhwh: de la guerre à l’alliance, Études théologiques et religieuses 94(1), 95–108. ROST, L. (1926), Die Überlieferung von der Thronnachfolge Davids (BWANT III/6), Stuttgart.

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SALO, R.S. (2017), Die judäische Königsideologie im Kontext der Nachbarkulturen: Untersuchungen zu den Königspsalmen 2, 18, 20, 21, 45 und 72 (ORA 25), Tübingen. SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER, C. (1993), David und Jerusalem – ein Kapitel biblischer Historiographie, in: ErIs 24 (A. Malamat Volume), Jerusalem, 197*–211*. SCHÄFER-LICHTENBERGER, C. (2003), Beobachtungen zur Ladegeschichte und zur Komposition der Samuelbücher, in: C. HARDMEIER et al. (eds.), Freiheit und Recht: Festschrift für Frank Crüsemann zum 65. Geburtstag, Gütersloh, 323–338. SCHICKLBERGER, F. (1973), Die Ladeerzählungen des ersten Samuel-Buches: Eine literaturwissenschaftliche und theologiegeschichtliche Untersuchung (Fzb 7), Würzburg. SCHMID, K. (2019), Theologie des Alten Testaments (Neue Theologische Grundrisse), Tübingen. SCHROER, S. (1992), Die Samuelbücher (NSKAT), Stuttgart. SMELIK, K.A.D. (1989), The Ark Narrative Reconsidered, in: A.S. VAN DER WOUDE (ed.), New Avenues in the Study of the Old Testament (OTS 25), Leiden, 128–144 STOEBE, H.J. (1973), Das erste Buch Samuelis (KAT VIII/1), Gütersloh. STOEBE, H.J. (1994), Das zweite Buch Samuelis (KAT VIII/2), Gütersloh. STOLZ, F. (1980), Das erste und das zweite Buch Samuel (ZBK), Zürich. TIMM, S. (2004), Ein assyrisch bezeugter Tempel in Tempel in Samaria?, in: S. TIMM, “Gott kommt von Teman…” Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte Israels und Syrien-Palästinas (AOAT 314), Münster, 229–236. UEHLINGER, C. (1994), Gab es eine joschijanische Kultreform?: Plädoyer für ein begründetes Minimum, in: W. GROß (ed.), Jeremia und die ‘deuteronomistische Bewegung’ (BBB 98), Weinheim, 57–89. UEHLINGER, C. (1998),“… und wo sind die Götter von Samarien?”: Die Wegführung syrisch-palästinischer Kultstatuen auf einem Relief Sargons II. in Ḫorṣābād/Dūr-Šarrukīn, in: M. DIETRICH/ I. KOTTSIEPER (eds.), “Und Mose schrieb dieses Lied auf”: Studien zum Alten Testament und zum Alten Orient. Festschrift für Oswald Loretz zur Vollendung seines 70. Lebensjahres mit Beiträgen von Freunden, Schülern und Kollegen (AOAT 250), Münster, 739–776. UEHLINGER, C. (2002), Hanun von Gaza und seine Gottheiten auf Orthostatenreliefs Tiglatpilesers III, in: U. HÜBNER/E.A. KNAUF (eds.), Kein Land für sich allein. Studien zum Kulturkontakt in Kanaan, Israel/Palästina und Ebirnâri für Manfred Weippert zum 65. Geburtstag (OBO 186), Fribourg/Göttingen, 94–127. UEHLINGER, C. (2017), Göttinnen in der Welt und Umwelt des antiken Israel, in: M. FEURSTEIN/ F. HEIMANN-JELLINEK (eds.), Die weibliche Seite Gottes, Hohenems, 18–29. VIEWEGER, D. (2019), Geschichte der biblischen Welt, Vol. 2: Eisenzeit, Gütersloh. VAN DER TOORN, K./HOUTMAN, C. (1994), David and the Ark, JBL 113, 209–231. VAN SETERS, J. (1997), In Search of History: Historiography in the ancient Worlds and the Origins of Biblical History, Winona Lake. WEIPPERT, M. (2010), Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament: Mit Beiträgen von Joachim Friedrich Quack, Bernd Ulrich Schipper und Stefan Jakob Wimmer (GAT, ATD.E 10), Göttingen. WELLHAUSEN, J. (31899), Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments, Berlin. WONNEBERGER, R. (1992), Redaktion: Studien zur Textfortschreibung im Alten Testament, entwickelt am Beispiel der Samuel-Überlieferung (FRLANT 156), Göttingen. ZAIA, S. (2015), State-Sponsored Sacrilege: ‘Godnapping’ and Omission in Neo-Assyrian Inscriptions, Journal of Ancient Near Eastern History, 19–54. ZWICKEL, W. (1994), Dagons abgeschlagener Kopf (1SamuelV3–4), VT 44, 239–249.

Tarshish – A Golden West Turning East A Study on the History of an Iridescent Term Tilmann Gaitzsch∗ 1. Tarshish in the Hebrew Bible In the Hebrew Bible, the concept “west” is expressed either by using aḥôr – “back” or by the term yam which means sea, namely the Mediterranean Sea. But according to the world view of ancient Israel, there is an area beyond the sea which therefore marks the western rim of the world properly: taršîš. The expression taršîš in Hebrew can basically refer to a gemstone or be used as a place or personal name.1 Lipiński assumes that the word first denoted a place and later the stone that was imported from it; eventually, the name of the gemstone was used as a given name from the Persian period on (Esth 1:14 and 1 Chr 7:10).2 The name of the progenitor in Gen 10:4 and 1 Chr 1:7 stems directly from the designation of the area or its inhabitants.3 This area is usually identified with the Greek sources’ tartēssós whose location at the estuary of Guadalquivir at the Spanish Atlantic coast is well attested.4 1.1 Tarshish the Stone5 The term taršîš is used six times in the Hebrew Bible to designate a gemstone. In most cases, however, the grammatical or textual context refers to the landscape. The evidence in Exod 28:20 and 39:13, where the stone appears as part of the priest’s breastplate, ∗ This study was submitted as diploma thesis under the auspices of Prof. Angelika Berlejung and Prof. Harald Samuel. I want to thank both of them sincerely for their invaluable support during the study and the preparation for publication. I would also like to thank Prof. Aren Maeir for his very insightful feedback on the study. Last but not least, I want to express my gratitude to Mr. Felix Hagemeyer and Mr. Johannes Seidel for their helpful input throughout the process. 1 Cf. LIPIŃSKI 1995:778. 2 Cf. LIPIŃSKI 1995:780–781. 3 Differently CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:111. 4 Cf. e.g., CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:111–121; DAY 2012:360–366; SAUR 2008:197–199. In contrast, VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:40–47 has again advocated identification with Tarsus. The identification with (Nora in) Sardinia is also suggested (cf. e.g., THOMPSON/SKAGGS 2013:2.3). 5 The stone called taršîš has been identified with amber or hematite (cf. HARRELL/HOFFMEIER/ WILLIAMS 2017:25–27), and with citrine or yellow topaz (cf. SCHILLER 2010:1.2.10).

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is related to Ezek 28:13,6 where the stone is included in Tyre’s jewelry. Here, it can be assumed that the expression is intended to evoke associations with the Tyrian trade contacts with Tartessos. The stone is used in Ezekiel in two other instances in the description of the thronechariot (Ezek 1:16; 10:9) on which Dan 10:6 seems to depend.7 In the case of Ezek 10:9, the expression ʾeben taršîš can be understood both as “Tarshish stone” and as “stone from (the region of) Tarshish.” Another example is found in Song 5:14. This is also the only occurrence in which Tarshish is determined (according to Masoretic vocalization): mĕmullāʾîm battaršîš – “set in/with the Tarshish.” Although the term Tarshish might be used to refer to a stone here, it can also be understood to mean that the object was made in southern Spain. 1.2 Tarshish as a Landscape8 The location of the country or site called taršîš is only scarcely mentioned in the biblical writings. However, some passages make it clear that it is a very distant area in the far west of the Mediterranean. Two verses of the Book of Jonah (1:3; 4:2) indicate this: Instead of travelling to the north-east overland to the city of Nineveh, Jonah flees across the sea to the west, presumably to the edge of the then known world, where he believes he will be safe from the face of YHWH. In Ps 72:10, too, the author seems to have thought of a place in the western Mediterranean, since the locations listed here with their tributes to the king are an expression of global power: Ps 72:10a aims to the west (with ʾîyîm as the western coastal land) and Ps 72:10b to the south. Likewise, Gen 10:4 clearly points to the west: it traces the ancestors of the peoples of the north and west back to yepet; the classification of Tarshish among the sons of yāwān corresponds to the Persian-temporal world view of the priestly source;9 later, the Cypriots and Rhodians were added, with reference to their settlement area on the “islands of the peoples.”10 This extended form serves as a basis for 1 Chr 1:7, which explains why the peoples and landscapes here are not listed from west to east, as might be expected. Another detail is found in Jer 10:9: the verse mentions kesep meruqqāʿ mittaršîš – “hammered silver from Tarshish” as the material of images of gods. This fits perfectly with the well documented silver mining in Tartessos11 and with the silver hoards of western Mediterranean origin from the Iron Age Levant.12 The goods imported from Tarshish are listed in particular detail in Ezek 27:12, where at the same time the connection between Tarshish and Tyre is particularly palpable. Ezekiel mentions silver (kesep), iron (barzel), tin (bedîl), and lead (ʿôperet) as export goods from Tarshish. Ezek 38:13 is also worthy of special mention, because it also mentions the political or geographical structure of Tarshish: taršîš 6

Cf. LIPIŃSKI 1995:780. Cf. LIPIŃSKI 1995:780. 8 For the passages in 1 Chr, where the term taršîš refers to a landscape, but which are modelled on 1 Kgs, where ʾŏniyôt taršîš are mentioned, see section 1.3. 9 Cf. DAY 2012:364. 10 Cf. WITTE 2011:2. 11 CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:188–189. 12 See THOMPSON/SKAGGS 2013 and – with a divergent interpretation – ESHEL et al. 2019. 7

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wekol-kepirêhā – “Tarshish and all its young lions (i.e., rulers),” or “Tarshish and all its villages.”13 1.3 The Ships of Tarshish Another special case of taršîš word usage is the expression ʾŏnî(yôt) taršîš – Tarshish ship/Tarshish fleet. In the following, this expression will be examined in more detail in order to find out how strongly the term is linked to the landscape. It is probable that there were Phoenician ships specifically designed for long-distance trade with Spain.14 In the Hebrew Bible, however, the expression ʾŏnî taršîš does not appear to be limited to ships of a certain type that went to Tarshish. It is therefore necessary to examine the individual passages of the text and their interdependence. In the historical books of the Hebrew Bible, the ships of Tarshish are mentioned in two contexts: on the one hand, in the naval construction project of Solomon and Hiram of Tyre, and, on the other hand, in the naval construction project of Jehoshaphat of Judah. The reports can be found in 1 Kgs 10:22; 22:49 and heavily changed in 2 Chr 9:21; 20:35–37. In 1 Kgs, the word Tarshish is only used twice, each time in connection with ʾŏnî (1 Kgs 10:22) or ʾŏnîyôt (1 Kgs 22:49). In both cases, the fleet is built in the Red Sea, which means that southern Spain is ruled out as destination of the ships.15 The attribute taršîš therefore obviously designates a type of ship suitable for the high seas.16 The version in 2 Chr 9:12 refers to Solomon’s ships as ships of Tarshish, which, however, explicitly go to Tarshish. This version expands Solomon’s power in comparison to the Book of Kings: Huram is depicted as his subordinate and there is added an expedition to the western Mediterranean in addition the one to Ophir (2 Chr 8:17; 9:10– 11).17 The situation is different in 2 Chr 20:35–37. The text is based on 1 Kgs 22:49, but also shows strong parallels to Ps 48 (gathering of the kings 2 Chr 20:35 – Ps 48:5; coincidence of announcement and event 2 Chr 20:37 – Ps 48:9; breaking of the ships of Tarshish by YHWH 2 Chr 20:37 – Ps 48:8), so that it can be assumed that the Chronicler worked together both texts. Furthermore, the text seems to show that the Chronicler located Tarshish at the Red Sea,18 as the ships that were supposed to sail to Tarshish sink in the Red Sea.

13 Cf. CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:113, fn. 69. The latter reading is supported by the LXX, which translates kṓmai. 14 Cf. DAY 2012:365 with the quotation of Herodotus Hist. I:163. 15 Although 1 Kgs 10:22 does not explicitly state a destination, one probably has to think of the expeditions of Solomon and Hiram to Ophir mentioned in 1 Kgs 9:26–28; 10:11 (Cf. JAPHET 2003:125). The ships of Tarshish therefore have the same destination as those of Jehoshaphat; however, Ophir is supposedly located at the Indian Ocean and can therefore only be reached from the Levant via the Red Sea, not via the Mediterranean (cf. JAPHET 2003:122). 16 The expression is similar e.g., to the Egyptian term kbn.t – “Byblos-boat/seagoing ship”, cf. ERMAN/ GRAPOW 1971:118. 17 Cf. JAPHET 2003:125. 18 This is what JAPHET 2003:261 assumes – contrary to her own interpretation of 2 Chr 9:12.

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However, there are biblical texts from Persian and/or early Hellenistic times19 which suggest that Tarshish was located in the western Mediterranean, namely 1 Chr 1:7 and Jonah 1:3; 4:2. It is therefore unlikely that the Chronicler would have located Tarshish elsewhere.20 The most convincing explanation of the discrepancies in 2 Chr is offered by Gesenius:21 the Chronicler misunderstood the expression ʾŏnîyôt taršîš as ships sailing to Tarshish;22 therefore he omitted 1 Kgs 10:11 where Ophir is mentioned as the destination (on the other hand, 1 Kgs 9:27–28, where Ophir is mentioned as a trading partner, is handed down in 2 Chr 8:18) and rephrased the term “Tarshish fleet” in 1 Kgs 10:2223 as “fleet sailing to Tarshish” in 2 Chr 9:2. In 2 Chr 20:35–37, however, he overlooked the fact that a fleet of Ezion-Geber (whose location he knew, cf. 2 Chr 8:17) could not reach Tarshish.24 Finally, two other occurrences of the expression ʾŏnîyôt taršîš outside the Book of Isaiah and the Book of Kings should be mentioned: In Ezek 27:25 the ships of Tarshish appear, much like in 1 Kgs, as a building type of ships, which is particularly associated with Tyre; but the thought of Tarshish as a Tyrian trading partner may also resonate here. The use in Ps 48:8 is quite different: here the ships of Tarshish, and with them the enemies of YHWH and his anointed, are crushed by God. The expression is apparently used here without any clear reference to Phoenicia or the western Mediterranean; the Ships of Tarshish are a historicizing symbol of the chaotic forces hostile to God – mighty and threatening colossi.25 A dependence between Isa 2:16 and Ps 48 is also conceivable. 1.4 Developments in Meaning In summary, within the Hebrew Bible, Tarshish is consistently located in the far west. The place is also often associated with Tyre. In addition, there are numerous references to the valuable raw materials found there, especially silver and other metals. From the Persian period on, there is no information about the place or the trade with it that is not 19 On the Dating of the Book of Chronicles to the late Persian period cf. BRAUN 1986:xxix; PERSON 2010:15; JONKER 2016:66–67. On the Hellenistic dating of Jonah cf. WOLFF 1991:56. Differently STUART 1987:432–431. 20 CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:119. Differently DAY 2012:369: “by ca. 300 BCE the location of Tarshish was being forgotten.” 21 Cf. GESENIUS 1853:1316: “Secus autem visum est Paralipomenôn scriptori, qui naves Tartessias naves intelligens Tartessum petentes non poterat non in his locis haerere, quippe qui reputaret, navem quae Tartessum peteret Ophiram proficisci non posse. Has igitur discrepantias inter se conciliaturus utroque loco naves posuit Tartessum euntes et altero quidem Ophirae mentionem omisit: nempe minus curans, novam eamque difficultatem, quae cerneretur in classe, quae e maris Erythraei portibus in Hispaniam missa sit.” 22 Cf. DAY 2012:368. 23 A similar interpretation seems to be indicated in the LXX, where 1 Kgs 10:22 ʾŏnî taršîš is translated once as naús tharsis and once as naús ek tharsis. 24 Therefore, the expeditions to Tarshish as related in the Book of Chronicles are literary fiction. Consequently, 2 Chr 9:21 cannot be used as a historically liable list of imported products from Ophir (otherwise: CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:113). 25 HOSSFELD/ZENGER 1993:297. Cf. also KRAUS 1966:358–359.

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handed down from older sources. It can therefore be assumed that the authors of the more recent texts used the term without being able to fall back on their own knowledge about trans-Mediterranean long-distance trade. The situation is different with the expression ʾŏnîyôt taršîš: if Ps 48 and 1 Kgs offer the oldest evidence, the term originally referred exclusively to a special, large and seaworthy merchant ship of Tyrian origin. In Ezekiel, the text seems to hint at the relationship of the ships to the Tyrian trade with the western Mediterranean. Finally, the Chronicler is unfamiliar with the expression, and probably also with the matter, and he tries to interpret it on the basis of his literature-based knowledge of Tarshish.

2. Tarshish in the Masoretic Isaiah 2.1 Tarshish in the Outline of the Book of Isaiah In the Masoretic Book of Isaiah, the expression taršîš occurs seven times in four places, which all have a structuring function in the overall architecture of the book: once towards the end of the introduction to the whole book in Isa 2 (v. 16; ʾŏnîyôt taršîš), four times in the chapter on Tyre Isa 23 at the end of the oracles against the nations (taršîš and ʾŏnîyôt taršîš), once in Isa 60 (v. 9; ʾŏnîyôt taršîš), which is considered the core text of chapters 56–66, and in the final chapter Isa 66 (v. 19; taršîš). In the sense of the classical division of the Book of Isaiah into three parts, the term is thus found twice in Proto- and Trito-Isaiah, but is missing in Deutero-Isaiah. Here, on the other hand, the term ʾî (island, coast) is predominant, a term which refers more generally than taršîš to the Mediterranean and beyond: Almost half of all examples in the Hebrew Bible are found in the Book of Isaiah and more than half of them in chapters 40–55. The expression taršîš is important for the architecture of the whole book, as it creates references between larger text units. Such references are a signal, especially in Isa 2:16 and Isa 66:19, that the opening and closing chapters have been editorially coordinated.26 But also between Isa 2:16 and Isa 23 the reference creates a “catchword connection.”27 The reference in Isa 66 to Isa 60:9 is less clear, however, as the text takes up the image of the return of the Diaspora as sacrificial offerings (Isa 60:4; 66:20).28 Such similarities in content make it likely that the authors of Isa 66 also deliberately used individual keywords like taršîš taken from Isa 60. If these findings are correct, the term Tarshish can be used to shed new light on editorial processes in the Book of Isaiah as well as theological developments. The basis for this is the knowledge gained from individual exegetical studies on the interpretation and dating of the texts.

26 BEUKEN 2003:36 states that the introductory chapters were written under the influence of the final ones rather than the other way around and that the influence of Isa 65–66 on Isa 1:2–2:5 was stronger than on Isa 2:6–4:6. 27 HAGEDORN 2012:129, fn. 15. 28 Cf. RENDTORFF 1984:308.

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2.2 The Ships of Tarshish in Isa 2:16 The announcement of judgement against the ʾŏnîyôt taršîš is the conclusion of a tenpart list, where the “proud and high” (Isa 2:12) is enumerated, against which a “Day of YHWH” is directed (Isa 2:12–17).29 The list is the core text of the more comprehensive composition Isa 2:6–22, which deals with the judgement on all pride and the sole sovereignty of YHWH.30 Following the structure and dating of Beuken, the passage Isa 2:6–22 is set in the context of two overtures of the book (Isa 1:2–2:5 and Isa 2:6–4:6), which were written in post-exilic times and programmatically establish connections between the beginning and the end of the book.31 It seems that the term “Ships of Tarshish” (cf. Isa 66:19) is a part of this process, too. However, Isa 2:12–17 is very close to the theology of the historical Isaiah and could therefore go back to the beginnings of Isaiah’s tradition.32 According to that, the passage was integrated in its entirety into the overtures of the book, without any influence from Isa 66:19. This assumption is supported by the fact that the intention linked to taršîš differs in the two chapters. Isa 2:12–16 lists several noun phrases, which serve as objects of divine wrath on the Day of YHWH. The word taršîš in Isa 2:16b patterns with the modifiers in all these phrases, which express the greatness and arrogance of the objects.33 In verse 16a, the corresponding attribute is haḥemdâ (the splendour), which is used to describe barques (śekîyôt).34 It is very likely that ʾŏnîyôt taršîš and śekîyôt haḥemdâ refer to two different types of ships, which both express the pride of mankind in different ways: the taršîš ships through international trade in luxury goods35 and the splendid barques through the display of wealth.36 At the same time, the ships are at the end of a series that enumerates the most important economic and military structures of the Levant, of which the merchant fleet serves as an outpost. Within the immediate context of the text there is also a reference between v. 16 and v. 6–7. The splendid barques (Isa 2:16b) are an expression of the luxury that is gathered in the land (Isa 2:7), the Tarshish fleet (Isa 2:16a) is a symbol of the foreign traders present in it (Isa 2:6b).37 Considering that śekîyôt may be derived from an Egyptian term 29

WILLIAMSON 2006: 207–211 argues that Isa 2:12–16 is part of a larger ring composition, namely Isa 2:10–19*. WATTS 1985:31 imagines Isa 2:12–16 as a speech of the earth, which is framed by two statements of the heavens Isa 2:11.17. 30 BEUKEN 2003:101. 31 BEUKEN 2003:36. 32 Cf. BEUKEN 2003:101; WILLIAMSON 2006:213. 33 The adjectives, beṣûrâ especially, do express different nuances, but at this instance they mean the same: greatness paired with hubris (cf. BEUKEN 2003:105; the LXX renders with hypsēlós three times, for v. 14a there is no translation). 34 The meaning of the first word is unclear, it is usually associated with the Egyptian term śktȷ̉ (ship). The expression might be also explained as a nominalization of the root śkh (~maśkît – form). The LXX seems to give both possibilities in a row (théān ploíōn – the look of the ships). 35 On Phoenician trade cf. MARKOE 1997:325–326 and, more extensively, AUBET 2001:97–143. 36 Cf. BEUKEN 2003:105. 37 Possibly, the critique in Isa 2:6 is even directed explicitly against the trade with foreigners, if the root śpq is not to be related to “suffice” (cf. 1 Kgs 20:10), but to “clap” (cf. Job 36:18). In this case,

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and that taršîš is connected to the Phoenician trading network, it is conceivable that both expressions – śekîyôt haḥemdâ and ʾŏnîyôt taršîš – criticize the cultural, political or economic influence from outside Israel as an expression of human arrogance that is going to be destroyed by YHWH. On the other hand, it seems that the remote destination port of the ships of Tarshish does not play a role at this point, because in this case the ships of Tarshish as the objects of divine wrath furthest away from Judah would probably have been placed at the end of the list. Rather, the focus is on merchant ships sailing along the coast in the vicinity of Judah. In summary, three directions of meaning can be identified, which are expressed with the word ʾŏnîyôt taršîš in Isa 2:16: first, the wealth of ships and their goods, second, the claim to control the sea, and third, the trade contacts with foreign peoples. It is all three, against which a Day for YHWH is directed. This understanding of the term ʾŏnî taršîš is most likely to be connected to its understanding in 1 Kgs 10:22; 22:49, in which it also designates a large merchant ship, common in Phoenicia, which could be used for the trade in luxury goods, without any particular reference to trade with Spain. 2.3 Tarshish in Isa 23 The chapter Isa 23 is clearly distinguished from the surrounding texts, the Jerusalem chapter Isa 22 and the Isaiah Apocalypse Isa 24–27, by its thematic concentration on Phoenicia. The chapter is divided into the sections Isa 23:1–14 and Isa 23:15–18, with the first section appearing as a self-contained whole, through the framing verses Isa 23:1.14.38 Within this section the imperatives in Isa 23:1.3.4aβ.11.14b can be understood as further section markers.39 Verses 15–18 constitute a uniform dependent addendum to the preceding verses.40 Isa 23 refers to itself as maśśāʾ ṣor – the oracle (or burden) of Tyre. However, Isa 23 is not a conventional oracle; instead, the text belongs in the realm of lamentation.41

ûbeyaldê nokrîm yaśpîqû might be translated as “they shake hands with the children of the foreigner” which can possibly be understood as a reference to handshakes as a sign of transaction. 38 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:35. 39 VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:35; BEUKEN 2007:290. 40 The apparently stylistically clumsy accumulation of time indications (Isa 23:15.17) shows that the author used traditional formulas (cf. DUHM 1902:142: “The narrator […], of course, takes up his amendment with the unavoidable ‘and it shall come to pass in that day’, even though this formula fits badly enough with the seventy years during which nothing comes to pass.”) The resulting logical difficulties are not sufficient to justify Wildberger’s division into “two supplements”, namely v. 15–16 and v. 17–18 (cf. WILDBERGER 1989:860.879). 41 Cf. WILDBERGER 1989:13–27.861; SAUR 2008:96. In contrast, BEUKEN 2007:293–294 and LESSING 2003:89.110–111, for example, argue that the text should be understood as an announcement in order to connect it with the political history of the time of the historical Isaiah. However, their argumentation is not very convincing: Beuken bluntly refers to lamentations announcing the future as a genre of “prophetic tradition”, Lessing attempts a comparison with the Tyre chapters of the Book of Ezekiel, written centuries after the death of the historical Isaiah, without in the least going into its genrespecific characteristics (cf. SAUR 2008:97).

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Attempts to prove or reconstruct42 a verse measure of the text did not lead to a satisfactory result for the entire text.43 Instead of a uniform metre, the text has keywords (taršiš v. 1.6.10.14; yošbê ʾî v. 2.6; yam v. 2.4.11; hêlîlû v. 1.6.14) which give it unity, and uses imperatives and rhetorical questions (v. 7–8) to increase the emotional impact. Rhetorical figures such as alliterations (mibbayit mibbôʾ mēʾereṣ v. 1), end rhymes (zeraʿ śiḥōr qeṣîr yeʾōr v. 3; leḥallēl – lehāqēl v. 9), and agnominations (qedem qadmātāh v. 7) are also used. All in all, Isa 23:1–14* can be considered the work of a literary educated author who uses poetic means without subordinating his text to a literary scheme. As stated above, Isa 23:15– 18 can be considered a later addition to v. 1–14*. In Isa 23:1–14, various added phrases can be identified. The first of these is v. 1a, which, despite its genre differences, assigns the chapter to the rest of the oracles against the nations and interprets it (perhaps already under the impression of verses 15–18) as an oracle about Tyre. Verse 5 is also interpreted by many commentators as a later addition because of its prosaic style.44 This is supported by the fact that Egypt and Tyre are introduced here quite abruptly.45 On the other hand, the verse is connected to the preceding one by the verb ḥîl, so that a separation from the original text is not completely certain. A further problem arises from the mention of Tyre in v. 8, which is often conjectured to Sidon.46 It is very unlikely, however, that such a correction should be made only at one point and not also in v. 4. It is more plausible that v. 8–9 as a whole was added to the text at a later date.47 Three reasons speak against the originality of verses 8–9: First, the generality of the justification:48 Tyre is merely accused of being rich and arrogant.49 In the context of the surrounding verses, which exclusively deplore the downfall of Sidon and apparently have very concrete historical events in mind, it seems like an attempt to connect the lament with Isaiah’s theology by inserting a theological “commonplace.”50 Second, it is striking that Tyre is not directly addressed in the verse, as is

42

Cf. e.g., KAUTZSCH 1922:627–628 or Thomas’ edition of Isaiah in BHS. According to WILDBERGER 1989:862, the chapter may be described as a poetic text, which nonetheless cannot be pressed into a metrical “Procrustean bed.” 44 Cf. SAUR 2008:269; WILDBERGER 1989:860–861. 45 The mention of Tyre, however, might be due to a wordplay (šmʿ ṣor/ṣar – tidings of Tyre; hostile tidings). 46 On this see WILDBERGER 1989:860 with a list of commentators who did so. 47 Admittedly, WILDBERGER 1989:861 sees here the “actual scope of the poem.” BEUKEN 2007:292– 293 discovers here the message that connects the text with the historical person of Isaiah and the book as a whole; but it is exactly these theologoumena and their formative role in the whole book what leads to the assumption of editorial work if they do not fit into their context organically. 48 Cf. DUHM 1902:139: “The poet does not seem to have any direct complaints against the Phoenicians, or he would have brought up a less general motive for the divine counsel.” 49 In the prophetic tradition, alleged arrogance is a part of “the standing inventory of words against the nations” (WILDBERGER 1989:863). 50 SAUR 2008:272. 43

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the case in the preceding verses.51 Third, v. 8–9 also do not fit well into the architecture of the text, because v. 10, which is now framed by two sections of theological reflection, appears isolated. One could ask why the editor did not insert his addition after v. 10: a possible but purely hypothetical explanation is that v. 8b already belonged to the text originally, namely directly after v. 7. The phrase nikbaddê-ʾāreṣ motivated the theological reflection grouped around the half verse. Verse 13 is also problematic in its Masoretic form. Accordingly, there are numerous suggestions for editorial developments.52 A plausible solution to the problem would be to exclude kaśdîm zeh hāʿām lōʾ hāyâ as a later addition53 and to interpret *baḥyynāyw as a misspelling of the bḥynyh testified in 1QIsaa. On that basis, the phrase can be interpreted as a relative clause referring to ʾereṣ. In this case, hēn serves as both a reference to kittîm in Isa 23:12 and as a kind of copula that identifies kittîm with the following phrase, much like wehinnēh in Jer 4:23–24: “Behold it (Cyprus) is a land which Assyria founded for desert demons, whose towers they raised, whose palaces they razed, which he turned into ruins.” The later addition then reacts to new political actors of the NeoBabylonian period. It should not be concealed here, however, that this editorially critical decision has far-reaching significance for the dating, for it is clear that the occurrence of the Assyrians, and even more so their later replacement by the Chaldeans, is an evidence that the text originated in the Neo-Assyrian period.54 The editorial development of the text should therefore be based on an independent core of Isa 23:1b–4.(5).6–7.(8b).10–12.13*.14. A later editor, possibly using the authority of Isaiah, reworked this text against the background of contemporary events into an oracle against Tyre by adding v. 8a.9. Perhaps, the title v. 1a and thus probably the placement in a collection of Isaiah’s oracles against foreign peoples and the redaction of v. 13 can also be traced back to him. Subsequent redactors of this collection did again update the oracle by adding v. 15–18. The dating of the oldest text layer is controversial, though there is a tendency towards dating it to the late fourth century BCE.55 However, the representation of the Phoenician

51 One could possibly argue that the address is missing in v. 11, too and that such shifts occur often in poetic speech; however, the contrast between the emotive appellation to the betûlat bat-ṣidôn in v. 12 already and the objective theological reflection on the fate of Tyre is at least conspicuous. 52 It is much less convincing, however, to consider the verse “in its entirety as a gloss” (WILDBERGER 1989:861), because then it is still unclear what it means. And it is equally problematic to call a verse that disturbs the flow of reading in this way a “reading aid” (SAUR 2008:271). 53 DUHM (1902:141) specifically rejects this reconstruction albeit not giving any reasons for his decision. 54 This way judges WILDBERGER 1989:863, who, however, deletes the whole verse as a later addition. On the other hand, BLENKINSOPP 2000:345 understands the occurrence of Babylon as a hint for a preexilic text layer. 55 The authorship of the historical Isaiah is advocated by Lessing LESSING 2003:110–112) and not fundamentally excluded by Beuken (BEUKEN 2007:292), Blenkinsopp (BLENKINSOPP 2000:344–345) is also pondering an origin in the times of Sîn-aḫḫī-erība (Sennacherib). On the other hand, there are researchers like Duhm (BLENKINSOPP 1902:137), Kautzsch (KAUTZSCH 1922:627), and Saur (SAUR 2008:271), who date the text in late Persian or Hellenistic times and interpret it as an account of the capture of Sidon by Artaxerxes III in 346 BCE, and of the capture of Tyre by Alexander in 332 BCE.

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trading network fits best into the Neo-Assyrian period,56 and the use of the term ʾŏnîyôt taršîš for seaworthy merchant ships is, as shown above, more likely for the pre-exilic period. The reconstructed core text calls to lament the destruction of Sidon;57 it probably refers to the conquest of Sidon under Aššur-aḫa-iddina (Esarhaddon) in 677 BCE:58 it was that time when the town was destroyed and rebuilt as Kār-Aššur-aḫa-iddina. Furthermore, an inscription59 claims that Sidon’s king fled from the Assyrians to Cyprus, but was captured and killed there (cf. v. 12–13). It goes without saying that the Sidonian long-distance trade was also affected. It is also probable that people in Judah were well informed about the events in Sidon, for there were probably also Judahite workers among the builders of Kār-Aššur-aḫa-iddina, provided by the “kings of the sea coast.”60 It is not certain whether the campaigns of Aššur-aḫa-iddina and Aššur-bāni-apli (Ashurbanipal) against Baal of Tyre had already given the impetus to expand the poem. These campaigns, which took place on the verge of the conquest of Egypt,61 fit in well with v. 5. The fact that the city could not be conquered in the process is irrelevant, for the picture that was painted in Jerusalem of the situation in Phoenicia probably corresponds more to Assyrian propaganda than to actual events. It is also possible, however, that v. 5 refers to the conquest of Tyre under Nabû-kudurrī-uṣur II (Nebuchadnezzar II) in 572 BCE, which had far more consequences for the city. It is also possible that v. 13 was converted at that time, so that the Chaldeans were now identified as destroyers. Although this is problematic because Cyprus did not become part of the Neo-Babylonian Empire at that time,62 it is conceivable that for the editor ʾereṣ did not refer to Cyprus but to the Phoenician territory. In the Neo-Babylonian period, we can also assume that the oracles of foreign peoples were first collected and edited and that it was in this process, that the verses 1a.8–9 were added. The final verses 15–18 are, as Saur has pointed out, a polemic against the collaboration of the temple aristocracy with Phoenician merchants in late Hellenistic or

56

Cf. WILDBERGER 1989:864–865. However, the sole reference of the text to Sidon is not unchallenged. On the one hand, the chapter in its present form is not directed against one city alone, but is to be understood as a “Phoenician word” (SAUR 2008:269). On the other hand, Sidonian is a metonymic term for all Phoenicians (for the text cf. WILDBERGER 1989:860, in general cf. WARD: Tyre, 24, for the early Iron Age cf. SOMMER 2008:55). But these observations cannot be transferred to the present text without further ado, because the wording in Isa 23 is not ṣîdōnîm but (bat)-ṣîdôn and these expressions do not refer to a territory or a people but to a city (cf. DUHM 1902:140: “How one can understand Tyre or Phoenicia by bat Sidon I do not understand,” and also SAUR 2008:137 for the distinction between melek ṣîdôn and melek ṣîdōnîm). It is equally farfetched when BEUKEN (2007:302), with a view to Isa 23:15–18, suddenly understands Tyre as a representative “for all of Phoenicia.” The lamented disaster hit Sidon first and foremost and indirectly led to the collapse of Sidonian trade with Cyprus and Tarshish. It is also in this sense of Phoenician trading partners that the term kenaʿan in v. 11b should be understood. 58 Cf. WATTS 1985:267–269.305–306. 59 WILDBERGER 1989:865. 60 Cf. WILDBERGER 1989:865. 61 BAGG 2008:1.2.3. 62 On Cyprus in the 7–6th centuries BCE, cf. MCRAY 1992:1229. 57

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Maccabean times.63 The wish that the wages of the Tyre’s prostitution should benefit Zion is not an expression of envy, but a caustic criticism of the religious establishment at the time of the Second Temple. The seventy years (notwithstanding the reference to the Babylonian Exile) then refer to the time that has passed since Alexander’s conquest of Tyre. Isa 23 is the text of the Hebrew Bible in which taršîš is most frequently found. The ships of Tarshish are first called upon to complain about their destroyed harbor. The mention of Cyprus shifts the meaning of the term ʾŏnîyot taršîš: while Isa 23:1bα calls upon all ships of the Phoenician merchant fleet to complain, in Isa 23:2bβ, this call is pointed to the fleet sailing from the west; the closer it comes to the Phoenician port, the clearer it becomes that a catastrophe has occurred. However, the reason for this catastrophe is only gradually revealed to the reader. In Isa 23:2, the expression “merchant of Sidon” – which presumably represents the whole city – indicates the downfall of Sidon, which is directly addressed in Isa 23:4. In this way, the author artfully establishes his view of Sidon’s destruction, which he understands as a catastrophe for the whole of the Mediterranean: The wailing of the ships of Tarshish frames the lament of Sidon. This view is also made clear in the following verses: The inhabitants of the (Phoenician) coast are to lament and flee to Tarshish (v. 6); thus, the Phoenician expansion, which was the basis of an extensive trade network (v. 7), causes the fact that the decline of the Phoenician metropolis brings about far-reaching changes even in this distant region (v. 10). By identifying YHWH as the initiator of this far-reaching catastrophe (v. 11), his sphere of influence is extended to the entire Phoenician trading network – in the world view of the time almost the entire cosmos. In the original text form, Sidon, Tarshish and their ships were also the fictitious addressees of the author. The numerous imperatives addressed to them, which are also continued in the appendix v. 15–18, make the text highly emotional, with interpretations ranging from “sarcasm”64 to “respect and compassion.”65 However, since the actual addressees of the text were not the Phoenicians, but the inhabitants of Judah, it is less important what the author’s emotional attitude towards the Phoenicians was; more farreaching is the fact that he imagines the entire Phoenician trading network as an interlocutor and, on the basis of his religious world view, instructs them about the reason for their suffering. It was only later that those who worked on the text included this imagined form of address in a purely inner-Jewish-Judaean discourse by interpreting it with the help of Isaian theological tradition (v. 8–9) or using it as a basis for polemics against practices in their social environment (v. 15–18). Tarshish and the ships of Tarshish can therefore be seen in this text as a cipher for a quasi-globalized Mediterranean world: Tarshish as a place marks its border in the extreme west and the Ships of Tarshish are an expression of their internal connection as

63 SAUR 2008:273–274. WILDBERGER 1989:863, however, dates the last part of Isa 23:15–18 in the “wretched time after the exile”, BLENKINSHOPP 2000:345 connects it to “debilitating effects of the Babylonian siege of Tyre.” 64 WILDBERGER 1989:861. 65 SAUR 2008:257.

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well as of the interdependence of various nodes of the trade network.66 At the same time, they are a symbol of the Phoenician trading system and the flourishing Phoenician culture, which was severely affected by the destruction of Sidon. In the later addition in v. 5.8.15–18, the term taršîš is no longer used. It is possible, however, that there is a deliberate connection to Isa 2:16 in v. 8–9, which introduces the interpretation of the Ships of Tarshish (and thus also the Phoenicians) as exemplarily haughty in the text. 2.4 The Ships of Tarshish in Isa 60:9 Isa 60:9 belongs to a comprehensive promise of salvation to an initially unknown female addressee, who in the course of the text turns out to be Zion (v. 14.22). Neither the delimitation nor the uniformity of the text is doubtful.67 The chapters Isa 60–63 are similar in content and expression to Isa 40–55; this is especially true of Isa 60.68 All in all, the text reads like the execution of the command in Isa 40:2: dabberû ʿal-lēb yerûšālaim. Therefore Isa 60 was probably written not too late after the earliest version of Deutero-Isaiah in the early Persian period.69 The address to Jerusalem suggests that the text was written there. The text combines three themes into a unified, salutary vision of the future:70 first, the hope of the world in God; second, the return of the troubled children of Jerusalem; and third, the pilgrimage of the peoples to the place of God in Jerusalem. The combination is achieved by the foreign peoples appearing as transporters and later servants of God’s people.71 The procession of peoples takes place voluntarily due to the light that rises in Jerusalem and shines in the darkness of the nations (cf. v. 1–2).

66

Cf. RENZ 2000:43, who notes a strong interdependence between Tyre and its word-wide web of trading routes implied in Isa 23. On the other hand, the ships of Tarshish might as well be an expression of the “typical Israelite allergy to the sea, seafaring, and international trade” (BLENKINSOPP 2000:343) or a just thought of as “the pride of the Tyrian seafarers” (WILDBERGER 1989:868). 67 This is true notwithstanding the fact that YHWH appears in the first person (v. 7.9a.10b.16–17.22), but also in the third (v. 1–2.6.9b.14b.19–21; cf. MAIER 2016:421, fn. 118). For an overview on historical suggestions of the poem’s structure and redactional development, cf. MAIER 2016:413–414. 68 Cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:207. Similar formulations can be found in Isa 42:4; 51:5b and Isa 60:9a (qwh), Isa 55:5b and Isa 60:9b (qedôš yiśrāʾēl kî pēʾărāk), Isa 54:7–8 and Isa 60:16 (gʾl, cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:214–215). Moreover, the reference to the promise of land vis-à-vis unjustly distributed property (cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:218 on yrš ʾrṣ in Isa 60:21) is also typical for Isa 40–55. 69 On the dating of Isa 60 cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:218, who assumes an origin “probably about the midfifth century B.C.E.” GOLDINGAY 2014:6–7 having given an overview of the research history, cautiously opts for reading Isa 56–66 as a collection of inextricably accumulated texts from at least decades of the early Persian period. The link between Isa 60–62 and the building of Jerusalem’s walls and the Second Temple in the first half of the fifth century BCE is advocated by BERGES/BEUKEN 2016:23. Later texts are already drawing back on Isa 60 (cf. Isa 24:23 and Isa 60:1–3.18–20; for ngš in Isa 3:12 and Isa 60:17 the priority is unclear). 70 All these topics do also occur isolated in Isa 40–55 (cf. Isa 51:5: hope of the islands, Isa 43:1–6: return of God’s people, Isa 55:5: peoples’ pilgrimage). 71 This conception is often testified in the whole Book of Isaiah (Isa 11:12; 14:1–2; 45:13; 49:22–23; cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:212).

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The ships of Tarshish in Isa 60:8–9 play an important role in this event: together with the islands they wait for YHWH to finally bring home the children of Jerusalem together with their precious possessions. The surrounding v. 5–10 thematize the tributes of the nations, so that it can be assumed that they are also on board the ships of Tarshish. As the text was written in the Persian period, the expression ʾŏnîyôt taršîš presumably denotes a fleet whose destination was in the far west. Understood in this way, the text suggests that a diaspora is to be expected in the western Mediterranean. However, this conclusion is not entirely compelling. For example, the reference to Tarshish could have been chosen as a contrast to the hitherto exclusively Arab trading partners in the South and East.72 It is also possible that this text is the only post-exilic example of the use of ʾŏnîyôt taršîš in its original sense: a type of ship suitable for the high seas which can quickly (kāʿāb/kayyônîm v. 8) transport many people and goods over long distances (cf. v. 9). More likely, however, taršîš here is a cipher for the remotest parts of the earth73 from which the children of Jerusalem are gathered, and which here metonymically refers to the entire earth.74 The role of the ships of Tarshish in Isa 60:9 is unique in the Book of Isaiah. Here, much more than in Isa 23, they are subordinated to the rule of YHWH: The deity does no longer act indirectly by causing the kingdoms to destroy Phoenicia (Isa 23:11), but the ships of Tarshish are under his command, they “hope for him” and for themselves to participate in the plan of salvation. The text reflects a use of the expression ʾŏnîyôt taršîš, which in a sense stands between the historically informed presentation in the Book of Kings and the ignorance of the term among the authors of the Chronicle: the ships of Tarshish as quasi-mythological actors, as they are also found (here as a symbol of powers hostile towards God) in Psalm 48:7. It is therefore very likely that Tarshish here, similar to Tartessos in the ancient sources, was thought of as the mythological edge of the world in the Persian period.75 The term ships of Tarshish in Isa 60:9 also refers to the idea of a great history under Solomon, who was able to extend his power to the far west with ships flying like doves and clouds. Now, these symbols of past glory become actors in the eschatological drama, allowing the children of Jerusalem a safe passage with their precious possessions. 2.5 Tarshish in Isa 66:19 It is difficult to identify self-contained texts in Isa 66. Obviously, the authors were more interested in bringing out the unity of the whole Book of Isaiah than the unity of the finale they gave to it. The chapter provides a link to both the beginning of the book76 72

Cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:213. By contrast, WATTS 1987:296 relates the phrase closely to the nearby peoples of the Levantine coast, who are the first to contribute to the restoration of Jerusalem. 74 Cf. the expression kol-ʾapsê-ʾāreṣ in Isa 45:22; 52:10 or yarktê-ʾāreṣ in Jer 31:8. 75 Cf. CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:99: “These ‘western’ mythological episodes also permeate fourthcentury works.” 76 Among the common themes are the criticism of garden cults (Isa 1:29–30; 66:17), worship and sacrificial practices (Isa 1:11–15; 66:1–3), the reference to the return to Zion (Isa 1:27; 66:20), and the unquenchable fire as punishment for the enemies of YHWH (Isa 1:31; 66:24). 73

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and the preceding chapter.77 Thus the text appears at first to be a loosely connected series of short sayings.78 On the other hand, v. 15–24 can be understood as a continuous account of the events of the Last Days and v. 19 can be interpreted in this context.79 The text was written in the Hellenistic period80 in a milieu of scribes whose ideas were influenced by the manifold forms and contents of the Book of Isaiah, which at that time was probably already almost complete. Unfortunately, due to text-critical problems, especially in Isa 66:17–18a, it is not completely clear how Isa 66:19 has to be interpreted. Furthermore, there is a tension in the content between v. 18 and 19: in v. 18, it is first announced that all nations will see the kabôd of YHWH, but then in v. 19, there is talk of nations who have not yet seen the kabôd.81 Probably, therefore, v. 18 and 19 do not describe two successive events, but rather illuminate the same process from different perspectives, with v. 18b summarizing the following verses. Consequentially, the 3rd pl.m. bāhem in Isa 66:19 does not refer to kol-haggôyim in the verse before, but to the same group as the suffixes of maʿaśêhem ûmaḥšebôtêhem, which probably means the followers of foreign cults mentioned in v. 17. According to this, the sign was among the people of Jehud, killing those who have fallen away from the worship of YHWH. The separation between the pious and the wicked within the people of God corresponds to the groups mentioned in v. 5: those who tremble at YHWH’s word and their hateful brothers. Those who are sent to escape are thus YHWH worshippers from the people of God (and proselytes probably also meant)82

77 GÄRTNER 2006:21 calls it a temple theological recomprehension of the creation-oriented eschatology of Isa 65. 78 Cf. GÄRTNER 2006:292. 79 Isa 66:15 is marked as start of a new paragraph in 1QIsaa and 4QIsab as well as in most LXX manuscripts but not in TML. The preceding v. 5–14 can be read as a text section unified by certain key words (√rʾh v. 5.8.14, √kbd v. 5.11.12, √ʾyb v. 6.14; cf. GÄRTNER 2006:25). Simultaneously, Isa 66:15– 24 represents an independent rereading of Isa 65, especially of v. 1–10. Nonetheless, GÄRTNER 2006:99 considers v. 18 as beginning of the events of the last days. KAUTZSCH 1922:718–719 structures differently: he conflates v. 5.17–24 as an originally unified “prosaic final piece,” which is composed as a speech of God. On the other hand it is unclear, why this final piece should have been split subsequently by v. 6–16. It is therefore just as likely that v. 15–16 serve as an introduction to the divine speech in v. 17–24 (cf. WATTS 1987:359–360, who reserves v. 15–16.24b to the heavens and the earth and presents v. 17–24 as a speech of YHWH). 80 Cf. SCHMID 2014:195–196. On the other hand, the text might also be viewed as having existed separately and dating to Persian times (cf. GOLDINGAY 2014:7.525), a Persian origin is also advocated by BERGES/BEUKEN 2016:23. 81 DUHM 1902:448 suspects a kol to be a “thoughtless addition of a copyist” the list of peoples in v. 19 to be a latter insertion. But even without kol it is difficult to fathom, which gôyim the author of v. 18 has in mind and why they are seeing the kabôd of YHWH before all others. Usually, this problem is solved by distinguishing between the peoples near to and far from Jerusalem (cf. e.g., WATTS 1987:365). But this division seems artificial. MAIER 2016:486 assumes a metaphoric and associative literary technique where rational consistency is not to be expected. 82 Cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:314. Therefore, the survivors are not identical with the pelîtê haggôyim (Isa 45:20), as GÄRTNER 2006:123–124 supposes. The group from which the survivors come is simply not mentioned in the text. (For this, one should expect a genitive attribute, which is missing; mēhem has only a separative meaning).

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who survived the judgment described in v. 16.83 Tarshish and the other nations in v. 18– 19 are only the addressees of the proclamation of the kabôd of YHWH and not its eyewitnesses. In reaction to this proclamation, more brothers are now brought before YHWH; this probably means that the escaped people are gathering members of the people of God (here too, probably including individual proselytes)84 from the peoples mentioned.85 Like Isa 60:9, Isa 66:19 too can be interpreted to mean that at the gathering of the diaspora in the last days, members of the people of God will also come from Tarshish. It is only in v. 23–24 that the expression kol-baśar brings into view the foreign peoples who participate in the Shabbat and new moon celebrations before YHWH.86 The mention of Tarshish in Isa 66:19 is a contrast to, but also a synthesis of the other references in the Book of Isaiah. Due to the chronological proximity to Isa 60:9, it is not surprising that in both cases, Tarshish no longer designates a certain region but stands as a cipher for the far west. In Isa 66:19 this is particularly evident through the connection with other exotic peoples. In the context of the whole book, it seems strange that Tarshish is mentioned among the peoples who have not seen YHWH’s glory and have not heard his message, after it was said in Is 23 that YHWH had also proved his power to Tarshish. Nevertheless, Isa 66:19 has a similar interest as Isa 23: YHWH worshippers and Tarshish should talk to each other. Isa 23 implements this interest whilst Isa 66:19 announces it. Instead of being lectured on the reason for its downfall, Tarshish is now proclaimed the glory of YHWH. In Tarshish – as already in Isa 60 – the existence of members of God’s people is presumed, whose return to Jerusalem is announced. The expression taršîš in Isa 66:19 can also be understood as a reference to Phoenicia. In contrast to Zech 14:21, where the Phoenicians are excluded from the era of salvation,87 Isa 66:19 integrates Phoenician actors into the eschatological drama.88 Isa 66:17

83 It is unnecessary to assume a gathering of the nations in Jerusalem prior to the judgement with fire and sword (cf. v. 14b–16). 84 Cf. MAIER 2016:492–498. 85 In contrast, GÄRTNER 2006:97–99 interprets the text thusly: first the neighboring peoples are gathered for a distinctive judgement by the view of the kabôd (v. 18), after that, the survivors proclaim the kabôd all over the world (v. 19) which leads to the peoples’ pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where the diaspora is bought as a minḥa from all nations (v. 20), finally, YHWH chooses Levites from among all nations (v. 21). In doing so, the text establishes the distinction between servants and sinners and thereby defines God’s people as an open community, namely as the holy remnant from all flesh. However, this is a transfer from Isa 66:23 upon the preceding verses. Isa 66:20 does not describe a gathering of all flesh, but of the return of the diaspora. The word ʾaḥîkem describes God’s people as a national and not primarily religious community, as is clear from v. 5. The expression mikkol-haggôyim, too, means strictly speaking that the nations are left. Consequently, it is more likely that the subject of yebîʾû are the pelêṭîm, instead of the peoples listed in v. 19 (grammatically, both interpretations remain possible, cf. BLENKINSOPP 2003:314–315). 86 That lepānay indicates Jerusalem is very likely, but, with regard to v. 1–4, not absolutely conclusive; the LXX adds the location. 87 SAUR 2008:301. 88 These differences are all the more striking since Isa 66 and Zech 14 are strongly related to one another and were surely developed in similar circles (cf. SCHMID 2014:199).

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is directed against cultic practices that may be related to chthonic rites;89 such rites were established in the Phoenician cultural area and even practiced in Tartessos.90 The author is therefore highly critical of a Phoenician-influenced religious practice, but does not consider the Phoenicians to be unteachable; instead, he wants them to be instructed by the survivors: The worshippers of the Tammuz and death cults are exterminated, but the others are taught. 2.6 Tarshish and the Development of the Book of Isaiah The oldest evidence of Tarshish in the Book of Isaiah is the call to lament over the fate of Sidon to the Tarshish ships in Isa 23:1–14*. This text was later reworked into an oracle against Tyre and incorporated into a collection of oracles under the authority of Isaiah (cf. Isa 13:1). In this collection of oracles, Isa 23 has a structuring function in that it places the texts relating to Jerusalem in a sequence of oracles that progresses from east to west, putting Judah on a par with the surrounding peoples.91 Isa 2:12–17 may have served as a kind of introduction to such a collection of oracles, whereby Isa 2:12–17 and Isa 23 can be understood as frame pieces which are – beyond the mention of taršîš – related to each other: they deal with the worldwide reign of YHWH, which bayôm hahûʾ (Isa 2:11.17; 23:15) will humiliate human hubris (√gʾh Isa 2:12.19.21; 23:9): “Isa 23 seems to put into practice what 2:12–17 announces.”92 On the other hand, the themes established in Isa 2:12–17 run like a red thread through the oracles of foreign peoples: pride (gāʾôn) is an important theme of this collection.93 The expression yôm lyhwh94 instead of yôm yhwh also indicates, strictly speaking, that Isa 2:12–17 is a sequence of various divine acts of power all over the world that put an end to all the human pride as described by the oracle collection. It is therefore obvious to associate Isa 2:12–17 with the editorial compilation of an Isaiah oracle collection. The text Isa 2:12–17 was either already available and was placed at the beginning by the editors as a suitable introduction or it was written especially for this collection. The dating of the Isaiah oracle collection is controversial in research: either it already existed at the beginning of the Neo-Babylonian period and was used by the Josianic redaction, which composed Isa 1–32* including the oracles against the nations, or it was created only in Persian times.95 Presumably the collapse of the worldwide Phoenician trading network, as described in Isa 23, in Hellenistic times provided apocalyptic circles who rejected the activities 89

Cf. RIEDE 2011:6–7. Cf. CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:222. 91 BEUKEN 2007:24. 92 HAGEDORN 2012:129. 93 Consequently, the term is found six times in Isa 13–23 (Isa 13:11.19; 14:11; 16:6 [twice]; 23:9) exclusively in the sense of (human) haughtiness; in the rest of the book, it occurs five times (Isa 2:10.19.21; 4:2; 24:14; 60:15) – here, however, always in the sense of (YHWH’s) majesty. 94 The expression is otherwise found only once in Ezek 30:3; but here it obviously refers to the Day of YHWH. 95 Cf. BEUKEN 2003:34–35. 90

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of rich foreign traders in Jerusalem (Isa 23:15–18), with the occasion to insert the Isaiah apocalypse in Isa 24–27.96 The mention of the Tarshish ships in Isa 60, on the other hand, is not motivated by Proto-Isaian texts, unless one assumes a very early combination of Proto- and Deutero-Isaian writings. This is also shown by the fact that they have a completely different connotation here: They are no longer manifestations of human megalomania worthy only of destruction, but desired means of transport, hoping to play their intended role in the divine plan of salvation. A mediation of these positions is represented by Isa 66, whose authors could already draw back on Isa 2:12–18, Isa 23 and Isa 60: the text lists Tarshish among the peoples who live far away from YHWH’s fame and glory, but who become addressees of the survivors. In the following return of the diaspora to Jerusalem, the ships of Tarshish – which in the context of the whole book were previously shattered and without a port – become kelî tāhôr (Isa 66:20), with which the diaspora is gathered.

3. Tarshish in the Septuagint Version of Isaiah In the Septuagint the word taršîš is translated in three different ways: in Isa 2:16 ʾŏnîyôt taršîš is rendered as ploíon thalássēs, in Isa 23 taršîš translates as karkhēdṓn and in Isa 60:9 and 66:19 there is the literal translation as tharsís. Especially in Isa 23 LXX, the Greek rendering of taršîš represents an interpretive achievement, establishing Isa 23 LXX as an independent text whose content was newly conceived.97 The Hebrew vorlage of Isa 23 LXX, which reflects several historical events over a long period of time due to its genesis, is regarded by the translator as “prediction about the recent past, the present and the near future” (van der Kooji)98 – a period that can be dated from the time after the destruction of Carthage until 132 BCE.99 According to van der Kooij, the main theme of the text is “the destruction of Carthage with its serious consequences for Tyre.”100 The collapse of trade with Carthage forced Tyre to engage in farming instead.101 Moreover, the text hints at the Parthian conquest of Seleucid Mesopotamia.102 Isa 23:15–18 LXX is more closely MT-oriented than the previous verses but is also more clearly marked as a prophecy;103 the expectation of a world empire dominated by Jerusalem, typical of Isa LXX, is particularly emphasized.104

96

Cf. SAUR 2008:274, fn. 81. WATTS 1985:294 presents Isa 23–27 as one act on “the Impact on Tyre’s Fall.” 97 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:87: “The main difference between MT and LXX, on the level of contents, has to do with the presence and contextual relevance of ‘Carthage’ in the Greek text.” 98 VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:93. 99 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1981:72. 100 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1988:87. 101 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1988:87. 102 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1988:100–101. 103 On this see VAN DER KOOIJ 1988:86. 104 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1988:100–101.

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Furthermore, van der Kooij claims that Isa 23:12a LXX reveals a hostile attitude of the Oniad Party – to which, in his opinion, the translator of Isa LXX belongs105 – towards the Phoenician cities, especially Tyre.106 However, this thesis presupposes the reading thygatéra s(e)iṓn instead of the equally well testified thygatéra sidṓnos107 and therefore cannot be affirmed without reservation. Against the background of this fundamental reinterpretation of Isa 23, it can be explained why the translator in Isa 2:16 does not render ʾŏnîyôt taršîš literally: presumably, he too has recognized that the expression here has a structuring function which connects Isa 2:12 with Isa 23. Because of his reinterpretation of Isa 23 however, he could not translate 2:16 concordantly with Isa 23. He possibly also recognized that the term in Isa 2:16 was connected with Isa 60:9 and Isa 66:19 and the tension in content – that the ships of Tarshish appeared once as an expression of pride, but then as part of the divine plan of salvation – may have led him to the more general formulation ploíon thalássēs. Thus, the aversion to seafaring, which in MT Isa 2:12 is limited to Phoenician trade and foreign splendid barques only, is extended to all ships of the sea. As a result, tharsís and its ships now appear in Isa LXX exclusively in positive contexts: as a carrier of the people of God and as a region and people to whom the glory of YHWH is proclaimed by the survivors. In both cases, the term refers exclusively to the far West. Identification with the Greek tartēssós, as elsewhere in the LXX, does not take place here. Instead, the translator seems to take pleasure in the exotic names of peoples, especially in Isa 66:19, and refrains – except in the case of yāwān/hellás – from interpreting them.108

4. Conclusion The image of the Phoenicians, as it is drawn with regard to Tarshish in the Book of Isaiah, is pale despite the great importance of the term taršîš in the structure of the book. There are no “typically Phoenician” characteristics; the criticism in the Book of Isaiah is directed against their arrogance, for which they are held accountable by YHWH – “a theological commonplace.”109 Nevertheless, the presentation of Tarshish in Isaiah is differentiated: the call for lament to the ships of Tarshish which forms the basis of Isa 23 does indeed contain “respect and compassion,”110 and even later editors, despite their contempt for the Tyrian trade as fornication, have constructed a fundamental agreement between their own and Tyre’s history by referring to the seventy-

105

See VAN DER KOOIJ 1981:50–55. Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:102–103. 107 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:65. The text-critical decision will depend mostly on which value is attributed to the “Lucianic” forms. 108 This becomes clear by the rendering of MT lûd as LXX loúd, which is otherwise only found in the genealogies Gen 10:13.22; in Jeremiah and Ezekiel, however, the interpretation as Lydians (lydoí) prevails (Jer 46:9 [26:9 LXX]; Ezek 27:10; 30:5). 109 SAUR 2008:272. 110 SAUR 2008:275. 106

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year-long oblivion of Tyre. In Isa 60:9, the ships of Tarshish are not only necessary for God’s plan of salvation because of their speed and their ability to cover great distances, they are also needed because members of God’s people and the children of Jerusalem still live at their destination – Tarshish. The same applies to Isa 66:19, where Tarshish is mentioned as one of the peoples from which the “brethren” are to be brought to Jerusalem. Just as Jonah can apparently imagine going into exile in Tarshish and apparently also finds a ship to carry out his plan without any problems (Jonah 1:3; 4:2), the authors of the late Isaiah texts imagine groups of exiled people returning from Tarshish. It is unlikely that the authors had trade contacts, much less a real Iberian diaspora, in mind; but these texts suggest that people in Persian Yehud and the Hellenic empires of the Diadochi saw themselves as part of a Mediterranean-wide community. Moreover, in the Book of Isaiah, Tarshish appears both as the object and the addressee of a prophetic proclamation: Isa 2:16 and the later additions of Isa 23 do only speak about Tarshish and the Phoenicians. Here the Phoenicians are presented as mere specimens in situations where general theological statements are demonstrated: their ships of Tarshish represent pride par excellence and therefore their sinking is not a shocking tragedy but a theological necessity. In the oldest layer of the text of Isa 23 and in Isa 66:19, the texts describe a speech directed to Tarshish.111 In both cases it is about the proclamation of the power and glory of YHWH, which for the far west leads to the historical catastrophe (Isa 23) and to the salvation in the Last Times (Isa 66:19). This brings the inhabitants of Tarshish closer to the reader: they appear before his eyes as an imaginary counterpart, or he himself is addressed in their place by the text (or by the survivors). Last but not least, it is striking that authors, editors, and translators of the Book of Isaiah perceive the inhabitants of the Phoenician cities as an interconnected society. This is already shown by the oldest text, Isa 23:1–14*: It expresses the significance of the destruction of Sidon by the Assyrians with an appeal to the ships of Tarshish coming from the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. Sidon, Cyprus and Tarshish are the nodes of a network that later editors could easily extend to Tyre, while the Septuagint adds Carthage, whose demise hits Tyre as well as Sidon (and all Phoenicia)112 and Cyprus, which is still important as a stopover. The Isaian texts offer the image of a Mediterranean area in which various local actors interact with each other without any single point being of central importance.113 They do not paint a picture of a centralized trading empire.114 Rather, they emphasize the connectivity115 and interdependence, where the catastrophe of the individual has catastrophic consequences for all others, but which at the same time only makes possible the idea that even in the most distant regions of the world known at the time, people could be children of the hometown and siblings. 111 MAIER 2016:494 comes to a different conclusion; this conclusion is, however, restricted to a speech of YHWH to the nations – which indeed does not take place. 112 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:52. 113 Cf. VAN DER KOOIJ 1998:77–79. 114 Cf. CELESTINO/LÓPEZ-RUIZ 2016:128. SOMMER 2008:53.58, however, considers Tyre the uncontested center in cultural, political and economic terms. 115 On Mediterranean connectivity cf. HORDEN/PURCELL 2000:123–172.

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The ships of Tarshish sail to these regions, which become a symbol of human megalomania as well as actors of the divine plan of salvation, connecting the world and Jerusalem with the world and thus preparing the hoped-for world-spanning kingdom of peace.

Bibliography AUBET, M.E. (22001), The Phoenicians and the West: Politics, Colonies and Trade, Cambridge. BAGG, A. (2008), Art. “Asarhaddon” (published April 2008), Wissenschaftliches Bibellexikon, (www.wibilex.de) (last access 25th of January 2021). BERGES, U./BEUKEN, W.A.M. (2016), Das Buch Jesaja: Eine Einführung, Göttingen. BEUKEN, W.A.M. (2003), Jesaja 1–12 (HThKAT), Freiburg/Basel/Wien. BEUKEN, W.A.M. (2007), Jesaja 13–27 (HThKAT), Freiburg/Basel/Wien. BLENKINSOPP, J. (2000), Isaiah 1–39: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 19A), New York et al. BLENKINSOPP, J. (2003), Isaiah 56–66: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 19B), New York et al. BRAUN, R.L. (1986), 1 Chronicles (WBC 14), Waco. CELESTINO, S./LÓPEZ-RUIZ, C. (2016), Tartessos and the Phoenicians in Iberia, Oxford. DAY, J. (2012), Where was Tarshish?, in: I. PROVAN/M.J. BODA (eds.), Let us go up to Sion: Essays in Honour of H. G. M. Williamson on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday (VT.Sup 153), Leiden/Boston, 359–369. DUHM, B. (21902), Das Buch Jesaja (HAT III/1), Göttingen. ERMAN, A/GRAPOW, H. (1971), Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache, Vol. 5, Leipzig. ESHEL, T. et al. (2019), Lead Isotopes in Silver Reveal Earliest Phoenician Quest for Metals in the West Mediterranean, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 116(13), 6007–6012 https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1817951116 (last access 25th of January 2021). GÄRTNER, J. (2006), Jesaja 66 und Sacharja 14 als Summe der Prophetie: Eine traditions- und redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum Abschluss des Jesaja- und des Zwölfprophetenbuches (WMANT 114), Neukirchen-Vluyn. GESENIUS, W. (1853), Thesaurus philologicus criticus linguae hebraeae et chaldaeae veteris testamenti: Tomus tertius litteras ṣ – t continens, quem post Gesenii decessum perfecit Aemilius Roediger, Leipzig. GOLDINGAY, J. (2014), A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 56–66 (ICC), London et al. HAGEDORN, A.C. (2012), Tyre and the Mediterranean in the Book of Isaiah, in: I. PROVAN/M.J. BODA (eds.), Let us go up to Sion: Essays in Honour of H. G. M. Williamson on the Occasion of his SixtyFifth Birthday (VT.Sup 153), Leiden/Boston, 127–142. HARRELL, J.E./HOFFMEIER, J.K./WILLIAMS, K.F. (2017), Hebrew Gemstones in the Old Testament: A Lexical, Geological, and Archaeological Analysis, Bulletin for Biblical Research 27(1), 1–52. HORDEN, P./PURCELL, N. (2000), The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History, Oxford/Malden. HOSSFELD, F.-L./ZENGER, E. (1993), Die Psalmen, Vol. I: Psalm 1–50 (Die Neue Echter Bibel), Würzburg. JAPHET, S. (2003), 2 Chronik (HThKAT), Freiburg/Basel/Wien. JONKER, L.C. (2016), Defining All-Israel in Chronicles: Multi-levelled Identity Negotiation in Late Persian-Period Yehud (FAT 106), Tübingen. KAUTZSCH, E. (31966), Die Heilige Schrift des Alten Testaments, Vol. 1: 1. Mose bis Ezechiel, Tübingen 41922. KRAUS, H.-J. (1966), Psalmen I (BKAT XV/1), Neukirchen-Vluyn.

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LESSING, R. (2003), Satire in Isaiah’s Tyre Oracle, JSOT 28(1), 89–112. LIPIŃSKI, E. (1995), Art. “taršîš”, in: ThWAT 8, Stuttgart/Berlin/Köln, 778–781. MAIER, M.P. (2016), Völkerwallfahrt im Jesajabuch (BZAW 474), Berlin/Boston. MARKOE, G. (1997), Art. “Phoenicians”, in: E.M. MEYERS (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, Vol. IV: Meta–Sepp, New York/Oxford, 324–331. MCRAY, J. (1992), Art. “Cyprus”, in: ABD 1, New York et al., 1228–1230. PERSON, R.F. JR. (2010), The Deuteronomic History and the Book of Chronicles: Scribal Works in an Oral World (SBL – AIL 6), Atlanta. RENDTORFF, R. (1984), Zur Komposition des Buches Jesaja, VT 34(3), 295–320. RIEDE, P. (2011), Art. “Garten” (published April 2011), Wissenschaftliches Bibellexikon, (www.wibilex.de) (last access 25th of January 2021). SAUR, M. (2008), Der Tyroszyklus des Ezechielbuches (BZAW 386), Berlin/New York. SCHILLER, J. (2010), Art. “Edelsteine” (published June 2010), Wissenschaftliches Bibellexikon, (www.wibilex.de) (last access 25th of January 2021). SCHMID, K. (22014), Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments: Eine Einführung, Darmstadt. SOMMER, M. (2008), Die Phönizier: Geschichte und Kultur, München. STUART, D. (1987), Hosea–Jonah (WBC 31), Waco. THOMPSON, C.M./SKAGGS, S. (2013), King Solomon’s Silver?: Southern Phoenician Hacksilber Hoards and the Location of Tarshish, Internet Archaeology 35, https://doi.org/10.11141/ia.35.6 (last access 25th of January 2021). VAN DER KOOIJ, A. (1981), Die alten Textzeugen des Jesajabuches: Ein Beitrag zur Textgeschichte des Alten Testaments (OBO 35), Fribourg/Göttingen. VAN DER KOOIJ, A. (1998), The Oracle of Tyre: The Septuagint of Isaiah XXIII as Version and Vision (VT.Sup 71), Leiden/Boston/Köln. WATTS, J.D.W. (1985), Isaiah 1–33 (WBC 24), Waco. WATTS, J.D.W. (1987), Isaiah 34–66 (WBC 25), Waco . WITTE, M. (2011), Art. “Völkertafel” (published July 2011), Wissenschaftliches Bibellexikon, (www.wibilex.de) (last access 25th of January 2021). WILDBERGER, H. (21989), Jesaja, Vol. 2: Jesaja 13–27 (BKAT 10/2), Neukirchen-Vluyn. WILLIAMSON, H.G.M. (2006), A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 1–27 in Three Volumes, Vol. 1: Commentary on Isaiah 1–5 (ICC), London/New York. WARD, W.A. (1997), Art. “Tyre”, in: E.M. MEYERS (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, Vol. V: Sera–Ziql, New York/Oxford, 247–250. WOLFF, H.W. (21991), Dodekapropheton 3: Obadja und Jona (BKAT 14/3), Neukirchen-Vluyn.

The Spirit of the Book of Nehemiah and the “Language of Ashdod” Nehemiah 13:23–24 as an Anti-Hellenistic Polemic Manfred Oeming 1. The Problem When the extent of cultural contacts between two regions is examined, language is one of the strongest indicators alongside material culture.1 If the inhabitants of different places share the same written language (langue) and even the same spoken language (parole), an intensive intellectual exchange is very likely. Languages convey not only a neutral system of naming things but also a world view and a religious dimension (see below, section 3). This volume is dedicated to the question of when and to what extent Jerusalem was in cultural contact with the west. Thus, the question of language is also a very important indicator. In the Hebrew Bible I consider Neh 13:23–24 as a very important historical source. According to the narration, Nehemiah concludes at the end of his mission (ca. 430 BCE) that many Judeans or Jews spoke “Ashdodian.” I also discovered in those days among the Jews/Judaish2 who had married Ashdodian, Ammonite, Moabite women that half of their children spoke Ashdodian (‫)ובניהם חצי מדבר אשדודית‬. None of them made any effort to speak Jewish (or Judean) ( ‫ )ואינם מכירים לדבר יהודית‬but in the language of one or the other people (‫( )וכלשון עם ועם‬translation M.O.).

Nehemiah observes mixed marriages and especially cultural contacts with the west, represented by Ashdod on the Mediterranean coast: “half of their children spoke Ashdodian.“ In the Masoretic Text also other languages can be involved.3 Like in the case of King Solomon (1 Kgs 11:1–2), foreign women cause Jewish men to sin (‫)החטיאו הנשים הנכריות‬. In Jerusalem, coastal and other influences are increasing and

1

On the relations between Judah and Philistia in the Hellenistic period, see, e.g., DE VAUX 1972; LIEU 2002; AVIOZ 2015; JOHNSON 2015. 2 The distinction between the geographical term ‫( יהודית‬meaning “belonging to the province of Judah”) on the one hand and the religious denotation ‫( יהודית‬to be translated as “belonging to Judaism, to be Jewish, living according to the rules of the Torah”) on the other hand is not easy and, in many cases, remains unclear. 3 However, ‫ וכלשון עם ועם‬is very often evaluated as a secondary insertion (e.g., MAIER 2010:133, with reference to WILLIAMSON 1985:397; similarly, GUNNEWEG 1987:172).

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beginning to “enrich” or “endanger” Jewish/Judaean culture and identity. In the Septuagint, however, only two languages are presented in contrast: Ἀζωτιστὶ and Ιουδαϊστί. καὶ οἱ υἱοὶ αὐτῶν ἥμισυ λαλοῦντες Ἀζωτιστὶ καὶ οὔκ εἰσιν ἐπιγινώσκοντες λαλεῖν Ιουδαϊστί. And half of their children spoke the language of Ashdod, and did not know to speak the Judahite language (translation M.O.).

Fig. 1: Persian provinces at the time of Nehemiah (© Manfred Oeming; drawing: Benjamin Sitzmann).

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In his anger, Nehemiah beats and maltreats men who have married foreign women.4 He urgently admonishes the men to refrain from the contamination of Jewish identity and language by mixed marriages in the future. It should be emphasized that according to the text, the “linguistic confusion” caused by the “language of Ashdod” does not refer exclusively to Jerusalem. Possibly Nehemiah observed the linguistic developments during the construction of the Jerusalem city wall. Or he became aware of the situation during a later inspection tour through the entire province of Yehud. For Nehemiah, the language of the children symbolizes the corrupting intellectual influence of the parents, which leads to the destruction of Jewish identity. But what is this peculiar language of Ashdod (“Ashdodite”), which half of the youth preferred to speak rather than Judean? “Ashdodite” is not mentioned elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible or other ancient Near Eastern sources as a specific language, and the epigraphic evidence from Ashdod in this period is not helpful. Scholars, therefore have to deal with the identification of this language. There are many very pessimistic voices: The essence of the “Language of Ashdod” can no longer be explained.5 Even if this language is not known at all, it has highly symbolic implications: It represents the other: “Ashdodite is a cipher for the coexistence and mixing of languages and people of different origins.”6 All that has to be rejected from an “orthodox” Jewish point of view. More confident approaches, however, try to identify Ashdodite by examining the languages in the vicinity of Yehud. A schematic map of the Persian provinces at the time of Nehemiah (fig. 1) shows the potential candidates: – Ashdodian is most often identified with the official language of the Persian empire, Aramaic.7 It is assumed that in Neh 13:23–24 “Jewish/Judaic” (see 2 Kgs 18:28; Isa 36:11.13; 2 Chr 32:18 where it refers to the pre-exilic language) stands for the language that was developed during the Babylonian exile, above all as the language of the Holy Scriptures.8 It was to be introduced as the standard language in Yehud by 4 POWER 2015:368–377 treated the verse under the heading: “Linguistic Nationalism in Neh 13.” The conclusion is: “I would suggest, then, that we cannot discover precisely what motivates Nehemiah’s objections because those objections were vague and inchoate. They are based on a sensitivity and a perception of danger, but are not embedded in any particular theory that sets out clearly what is at risk” (POWER 2015:376). 5 HIEKE 2005:254: “Was ‘die Sprache von Aschdod’ war, ist nicht mehr zu erhellen.” Cf. also GUNNEWEG 1987:173. 6 BERLEJUNG 2021:588: “[Ashdodite] should […] not simply be understood as a cipher for ‘unintelligible gibberish’ or for a ‘foreign language’; rather, it represents the totality and diversity of the different languages of the west, that is, the multilingualism and international makeup of the inhabitants of the coast. […] From an outsider’s perspective, the mixture of languages in the west represented by Ashdod could have been portrayed on a scale close to that of the Tower of Babel.” But in that case how can we explain that half of the Jewish youth is really speaking this language? On the contrary to the Babylonian perplexity (Gen 11:7) it is not the case that they “cannot understand each the voice of his neighbor.” It seems to have been possible to converse in this “Ashdodite.” 7 EIßFELDT 1936:33.36–37, and for more detail see also KOTTSIEPER 2007. 8 THON 2009:557–576 (esp. p. 557).

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the returnees from the Golah in the 6th century BCE, but to the regret of Nehemiah and his followers, “Jewish/Judaic” did not prevail. Aramaic, the official language of the Persian Empire, which was supposed to replace all local languages, became the common language of the next generation.9 Johannes Thon interprets Nehemiah’s lament about linguistic laxity in Judah as an expression of a comparative point of view: “On the one hand, the passage evaluates the linguistic situation in Judah from the perspective of a literary language that had developed in the Golah and declares it an identity marker. The vernacular(s), on the other hand, belonged both to the Jews and to their neighbors.”10

–

–

–

–

However, given the close relations with the Aramaeans and considering that Aramaic is a language with many similarities to Hebrew, I consider it extremely unlikely that Aramaic is criticized in Neh 13:23–24. In fact, even parts of the Books of Ezrah, Nehemiah, and Chronicles have been written in Aramaic. Some scholars think of a Canaanite dialect, a Hebrew spoiled by many foreign additives or pronunciations.11 Especially if one considers not only the note about marriages with women from Ashdod but also from Moab and Edom as historical (Neh 13:23), Ashdodite could refer to a gibberish of many dialects that is far from the “Standard Hebrew” as the sacred language. But such a fierce polemic against closely related dialects is improbable. Hebrew can be addressed as “the language of Canaan” (Isa 19:18), all (!) Canaan. According to this prophecy in the Book of Isaiah, there will be a small number of five Egyptian cities, that will convert to Yahwism and adopt Hebrew as at least their sacred language (‫)מדברות שפת כנען‬, or it is a prediction regarding Jewish colonies in Egypt (especially Elephantine or Heliopolis).12 But apparently there is no difference between Hebrew and the common language of Canaan. The fact that Ashdod was an important port in the Phoenician trading network in this period may indicate an identification with the language of Tyre and Sidon.13 The Phoenician of Dor,14 however, is very close to Hebrew. The differentiation between active or passive knowledge of a language – the ability to speak or merely to understand – is not convincing. Nehemiah was not so distressed because of the dialect! Other potential candidates are languages spoken south of Yehud. As the Edomites spread with the fall of Jerusalem in 587/6 BCE, their language, Edomite, Arabic, or Nabataean, began to increase its influence in the north. But was it ever popular in Jerusalem and Yehud? Finally, there are theories that Ashdodite is a non-Semitic language, the unknown language of the Philistines or Demotic.15 9

NAVEH/GREENFIELD 1984:115–129 (p. 119). THON 2009:575. 11 MACHINIST 2000:53–83 (p. 75). 12 E.g., BEUKEN 2007:192–193. 13 JANZEN 2002:144. 14 STAGER 2006:383, argues for a strong Phoenician presence, since he believes “the excavations at these two sites [referring to Ashkelon and Ashdod, M.O.] show that the Phoenicians, not the Philistines, dominated their cultures. From the postexilic period on, there is not a trace of Philistines anywhere.” 15 ULLENDORF 1977:42–43. 10

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“Ashdodite stands here for some barbarous and unintelligible tongue. Ashdod, as one of the five federated city-states of the Philistines, is selected in this passage as a model of a non-Semitic and totally incomprehensible language.”16

But again: how should this unintelligible language become so important in Jerusalem? And how comes that half of the young people in Jerusalem has actually spoken this opaque language? Thus, it cannot be that “Ashdodite stands here for some barbarous and unintelligible tongue.”17 In the end, Ashdodite remains an enigma.

2. The Solution 2.1 Observations on the Text First of all, we have to clarify the content, the dating, and the intent of Neh 13. Never underestimate the last sentences of a literary work!18 What Thomas Hieke and Tobias Niklas have shown regarding the last book of the Christian Bible, the Book of Revelation,19 applies also per analogiam for the last book of the Hebrew Bible20 and for the Book of Nehemiah, which represents the last book of the Hebrew Bible in some ancient codices.21 In my opinion, the intensive interpretation of the last part of a book marks the beginning of a proper understanding of the book as a whole. Characteristically, the end of a book holds a special meaning since a summarized main message is presented here. Especially when they are literary works, the last words of books, very often interpret the whole life of the main character and the essence of the whole book or even a whole collection of a codex. Therefore, according to, e.g., Dieter Böhler, Neh 13 is a climax and an “important conclusion.”22 The spirit of the Book of Nehemiah, in its canonical final form, is symbolized in the city wall of Jerusalem. Nehemiah wants to emphasize the autonomy and religious uniqueness of Jerusalem as the “City of David” (Neh 3:15; 12:37), as a “holy city” (‫ עיר הקדשׁ‬Neh 11:1.18), which is the center for all Jews/Judaeans. In this city, there dwell the “People of God”, who have solemnly committed themselves to literal and strict Torah observance (Neh 8–10). It fits very well when Neh 13:24–27 demands that a specific religiously motivated language has to be spoken in this holy city. This is also a confrontation with the rival city of Samaria: Only Jerusalem and its temple, only the Holy District surrounded by the wall and only the language of Judah (‫ )יהודית‬represents God’s presence. The holy city and its inhabitants must therefore be protected from impurities. 16

ULLENDORFF 1968:133. ULLENDORFF 1968:133. 18 Cf. my analysis of the last words of the Hebrew Bible, OEMING 2020. 19 HIEKE/NICKLAS 2003. 20 OEMING 2020. 21 For a list of the last words in biblical books according to different manuscripts cf. BRANDT 2001: 148–171; BECKWITH 2008:452–464. 22 BÖHLER 1997:36 (German original: “wichtiges Schlusswort”). 17

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“The wall” is much more than just an element of town planning; it has a deep emblematic meaning that undoubtedly illustrates the divine relationship of Judah and the religious segregation of the newly emerging Judaism from the rest of the world.23 After the plan to build the wall against all external and internal difficulties was realized (Neh 1– 7), a solemn covenant was formally signed in Neh 8–10, constituting the people as a religious community that faithfully adheres to the Torah. The leading princes, Levites and priests as well as the rest of the common peoples commit themselves “to walk in the law of the God, which was given by Moses, the servant of the God, and to observe and do all the commandments of YHWH our Lord and his decrees and statutes” (Neh 10:30, translation M.O.). The list of Jerusalem’s inhabitants (Neh 11) demonstrates: after the completion of the wall, the liturgical consecration of the fortification (Neh 12) actually brings Nehemiah’s plan to a brilliant success and the plot of the book to a happy ending. “Nehemiah 13:1–31 concludes the Nehemiah-story, and simultaneously the Book of Ezra-Nehemiah, with a theological summary of the most important themes.”24 But already on a literary level, Neh 13 tells a story from a time a few years after the consecration of the wall. According to many recent critical commentators, Neh 13 is a later addition to the Nehemiah memoir, that updates and enhances the message of this authoritative source for younger generations25 in order to preserve the identity and purity of the Jewish temple community. For this purpose, Neh 13 lists five actions of Nehemiah, each of which is introduced by a special time-formula ‫( ביום ההוא‬Neh 13:1), ‫( ולפני מזה‬Neh 13:4), ‫( בימים ההמה‬Neh 13:15), ‫( גם בימים ההם‬Neh 13:23): 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

(Repeated) exclusion of foreign peoples (Neh 13:1–3), Strict removal of foreign influences from the cult (Neh 13:4–14), Observance of the Sabbath, concerning the trade with perishable food like fish (Neh 13:15–22), Rejection of intermarriage26 (Neh 13:23–27), and Preserving the purity of the priestly dynasty (Neh 13:28–30).

As for the more precise date of insertion, the following considerations can be made: For a long time, it was assumed in biblical research that an authentic “Nehemiah memoir” (Neh *1–7; *11–13) from the second half of the 5th century BCE served as the source for the Book of Nehemiah.27

23

For a detailed analysis see OEMING 2017. HENSEL 2018:144, fn. 44. 25 E.g., GRABBE 1998:68: “The climax of the book is the celebrations surrounding the dedication of the wall and the organization of the temple personnel in Neh. 12; therefore, Neh. 13 can be seen as a sort of epilogue.” BECKING 2018 assigns all the text to the original memoirs. 26 On mixed marriages, intermarriage and group identity in the Second Temple Period see the chapters in FREVEL 2011. 27 Very thought provoking is the interpretation of Christel Maier: “In Nehemiah’s rejection of intercultural marriages, the effort to create an ethnically and politically autonomous entity ‘Judea’ becomes visible, which runs counter to the efforts of Yehud’s elite to gain power through marriages with upper class groups in the neighboring provinces. Nehemiah probably opposes such marriages in order to push back political influence of other elites on Yehud” (MAIER 2013:135). But is it the voice of Nehemiah? 24

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“More recently, the historicity, background, and intention of Neh *1–7; *11–13 is highly debated. From a maximalist point of view, the conflicts described in the book’s first-person account, Nehemiah’s mission and his actions, are considered largely historical (e.g., R. Kessler, R. Reinmuth, R. Rothenbusch). Minimalists even doubt the mere existence of a historical Nehemiah. In their view, the Nehemiah memoir is not a historical document, but a fictional account or archetypical scenario of later writers with theological intentions (e.g., J. Becker, E. Gerstenberger).”28

According to my analysis, there can hardly be any doubt that Neh 13 doesn’t derive from Nehemiah himself, but from different authors. A striking feature of Neh 13:23–31 are the inner biblical references. I am certainly not alone in this assessment. The exact dating of these additions is not certain.29 The historical note that Nehemiah had chased away Eliashib, a son of Joiada, might be considered old.30 However, the demarcation of Jerusalem from Samaria may have started later. The texts did not originate in the middle of the 5th century, but rather in the late Persian period or more likely in the beginning of the Hellenistic era,31 or most likely even later, probably in the time just a decade before the Maccabees.32 Benedikt Hensel rightly states that Neh 13 represents an ideological construct from Hellenistic times33: “On the one hand, the Book of Nehemiah takes a clear position since the inhabitants of Samaria are perceived as enemies. On the other hand, and even more decisively, the two opposing leaders (i.e., Sanballat and Tobiah [M.O.]) are stylized as ‘enemies of all Israel’ already in the exposition of the Nehemiah report. This gives the conflict a universal and fundamental character: Samaria (and Ammon) are opponents of the ‘saving’ entity ‘Israel’ and thus also of God.”34

But most of the verses were created by the Chronicler during the redaction of the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah. Within these late verses further, even later additions can be isolated (see below, vv. in italics). This is particularly discernible in the “scriptural evidence” of v. 26–27, where the example of Solomon illustrates how dangerous marrying foreign women can be (see below, vv. in square brackets and italics).

28 FREVEL ²2018:350–351 (translation: M.O.). On the Persian royal propaganda model in the Nehemiah memoir see SCHULTE 2016. 29 According to WRIGHT 2004:245–246, v. 24 is secondary because of its polemic against language; originally Nehemiah had only dealt with mixed marriages. KOTTSIEPER 2007:99–100, sees the historical sequence the other way round: For Nehemiah himself the language problem was of decisive importance, the problem of mixed marriages was added later. 30 KRATZ 2000:71: “So, there is a breath of history blowing from the Sanballat pieces. Only it’s nothing more than a breath” (translation: M.O.). 31 Cf. BECKER 1998. Becker concludes that it was the Chronicler who added the passages to the Book of Nehemiah, that were written in 1st person singular. As a central argument he mentions the correct observation that the Books of Nehemiah and Chronicle have many similarities. I myself date the Chronicler around 300 BCE. 32 FINKELSTEIN 2018 has dated the entire literary work of Ezra, Nehemiah, 1 and 2 Chronicles to the 2nd century BCE. I would not fully follow this (see OEMING 2017; 2019), although for Neh 13 his assessment is probably correct (although Finkelstein does not refer to this specific text). 33 HENSEL 2016:321. 34 HENSEL 2016:321 (translation: M.O.).

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23 In those days I also figured out that among the Jews that had married Ashdodite women, [Ammonite, Moabite]:35 24 their children spoke half in the speech of Ashdod, and could not speak in the Judahite language, [but according to the language of each people]. 25 And I contended with them, and cursed them, and smote certain of them, and plucked off their hair, and made them swear by God: ‘You shall not give your daughters to their sons, nor take their daughters for your sons, or for yourselves.’ [26 Did not Solomon king of Israel sin by these things? Yet among many nations was there no king like him, and he was beloved of his God, and God made him king over all Israel; nevertheless, even him did the foreign women cause to sin. 27 Shall we then hearken unto you to do all this great evil, to break faith with our God in marrying foreign women?]

28 And one of the sons of Joiada, the son of Eliashib the high priest, as son-in-law to Sanballat the Horonite; therefore, I chased him from me. 29 Remember them, O my God, because they have defiled the priesthood, and the covenant of the priesthood, and of the Levites. 30 Thus, I cleansed them from everything foreign, and appointed wards for the priests and for the Levites, everyone in his work 31 and for the wood-offering, at times appointed, and for the first-fruits.

Remember me, O my God, for good (Neh. 13:23–31, after JPS). Although I generally tend to credit a large part of the Book of Nehemiah to Nehemiah himself,36 the evidence for a very late beginning in the second half of the Hellenistic era is accumulating in Neh 13:23–27. According to Neh 13:23–27, there existed a colorful mixture of different cultures and languages in Jerusalem – even after Ezra’s reforms. But the biblical picture does not quite correspond to what we know archaeologically from Jerusalem in the Persian era.37 Since I suspect (see above) that the Chronicler composed the Book of Nehemiah based on of the Nehemiah memoir but under the influence of his own theology, the very negative connotation of Solomon causes problems: Maybe the Chronicler had failed to notice that this text contradicts the very positive image of Solomon, which he himself created in other texts with a clear anti-Deuteronomistic tendency.38 But it seems more likely to me that Neh 13:26–27 is a post-chronistic “commentary” that quotes a passage from the Book of Kings to provide a biblical basis for Nehemiah’s actions. This reflects the historical situation after 300 BCE, presumably the conflict between the conservative 35 From a historical point of view, there was never a situation when Judeans, Ammonites and Moabites have interacted with each other. The only missing link is the sin of Judah to marry women from other ethnic groups and religions. 36 OEMING 2016; 2017; 2020. 37 OEMING in press. 38 From a Deuteronomistic perspective, as expressed in 1 Sam to 2 Kgs, (foreign) women have a very negative influence on the course of history, which is also the case with Solomon.

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Jewish community and the Hellenistic world (Ἑλληνισμóς [2 Macc 4:13]). Most problematic for the conservative Jews was the introduction of the gymnasion in Yehud/Judah, which, according to the Books of Maccabees (1 Macc 1:11–15; 2 Macc 4:9–15), undermined the willingness of youth to obey the commandments of the Torah.39 If we date Neh 13:23–27 to the time of the beginning “Kulturkampf” between the Greek party in Jerusalem and the conservative party in Judah (cf. the case of the gymnasion in Jerusalem [2 Macc 4]), the sharp polemic against the “language of Ashdod” becomes increasingly understandable. Ashdod was a gateway for the Mediterranean Greek culture. The classical sources emphasize the international character of Ashdod, and despite its location four miles from the coast, both Ptolemy and Josephus refer to Ashdod as a city by the sea.40 This curious description may refer to Ashdod’s harbor, called Azotus Paralios, or Ashdod-Sea (Jos. Ant. Iud. XIII:4).41 2.2 Insights from Archaeology Are there any arguments based on the archaeological finds42 that would suggest that “Ashdodite” is associated with Greek? The excavations in Tel Ashdod present a rather unclear picture for the Persian and Hellenistic periods. Hermann Michael Niemann describes the situation accurately: “In the Persian era, Ashdod outdid all other lowland towns (Lachish, Gath, and Azekah), and minted its own coins as Ashkelon and Gaza did. Ashdod […] was the westernmost city of the three northern Philisto-Canaanite centers, the closest harbor to Judah, and was coveted (Amos 1:6–8; 3:9) for its riches.43 This may explain why the short-lived influence of King Uzziah over Ashdod, in the wake of Jeroboam II’s glory, was remembered (2 Chr 26:6). The potential integration of Ashdodite PhilistoCanaanites through conversion to Israel’s god would have been considered a victory over a superior entity, often envied and admired (Zech 9:6–7, contra Neh 13:23).”44

Although the dating of Zech 9:6 is debatable, it is quite conceivable that the verse originates from the Persian or rather from the late Hellenistic period. And a bastard shall dwell in Ashdod, and I will cut off the pride of the Philistines (Zech 9:6 JPS).

Mamzer (‫“ = )ממזר‬bastard” is a very disrespectful expression for a religious and ethnic “hybrid.” This contempt for the other, as expressed in Zech 9:6, would fit well with the 39

BRINGMANN 2004:323–334 (esp. p. 334–336). Ashdod is located on the Mediterranean coast, 32 km south of Tel Aviv, 20 km of Ashkelon and 53 km west of Jerusalem. 41 On Josephus’ ambivalent attitude towards the coastal region, cf. ROSENFELD 2000. 42 DOTHAN/FREEDMAN 1967; DOTHAN 1971; DOTHAN/PORATH 1982; DOTHAN/PORATH 1993; DOTHAN/BEN-SHLOMO 2005. 43 The view is still valid today: Ashdod and the coastal region (today also Tel Aviv) have a Mediterranean mundane flair, with a marina and seafront promenade, with worldwide trade connections and lively cultural exchange (today Ashdod is the fifth-largest city in Israel), which is very attractive. And a Sabbath in the coastal plain is totally different from the inland: people are bathing on the beach, enjoying their lives, going out for dinner and dancing, whereas in Jerusalem everything is closed and people are sitting at home, studying the Torah. 44 NIEMANN 2013:250–251. 40

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fierce anger of the governor of Judah, Nehemiah. The clash of cultures related to the gymnasion in Jerusalem, which we know about through 1 Macc 1:11–15 and 2 Macc 4:7–20, goes along with this attitude. For Jerusalem’s athletes, participating in sport competitions in Tyre posed a problem, as sacrificial offerings were made to Heracles in polytheistic rituals and ceremonies (2 Mac 4:19). Ashdod was conquered by Jonathan and the destruction of the Temple of Dagon (Bet Dagon) represented a triumphant victory over the pagan “idol” (τὸ εἰδώλιον).45 But let’s take a closer look at the coins from the coastal plain. The impressive work by Haim Gitler and Oren Tal46 from 2006 on the coins from Philistia (corresponding to the province of Ashdod) clearly shows, with about 120 examples, how much the iconography of the coins minted in the 5th and 4th centuries BCE in the three coastal cities of Ashdod, Ashkelon and Gaza was influenced by Greece. Although Persian influences are clearly present,47 the goddess Athena and the Athenian owl are depicted about a hundred times. As proof (pars pro toto) of the synthesis of Ashdod and Greekness, a coin (fig. 2) can be used which depicts the goddess Athena with a decorative helmet in classical Athenian style on the obverse and a schematic representation of the city of Ashdod on the reverse. The city, situated on a hill, is pictured with three towers. In the foreground, there are two magnificent palm trees and a lion.

Fig. 2: Tetradrachm (17,05 g), ca. 450–350 BCE, Israel Museum Nr. 15280 (after GITLER/TAL 2006: pl. XV.1Ta).

45 Cf. the impressive picture in Gustave Doré’s Bible, easily found on the internet, which depicts the destruction of the monumental temple as well as the decline of paganism. 46 GITLER/TAL 2006. 47 GITLER 2000.

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“Since hundreds of the Athenian and Athenian-styled issues from this period are found in Palestine in both archeological excavations and as strays, it seems obvious that during the second half of the fifth century a partial monetary economy was practiced in the region. Many of the Athenian and Athenianstyled issues found in controlled excavations were retrieved from well-defined Persian-period contexts that generally agree with the dates of these coins, as occurred in ͑Atlit, Megiddo, Mt. Gerizim, Tel Michal, Wadi ed-Daliyeh, Tell en-Nasbeh, Tel Azekah, H. ʿEtri, Beth-Zur, and Lachish. This evidence suggests that many of the reported isolated strays, whether produced in Palestine or imported, were common currency in the region during the second half of the fifth century and in the fourth century BC.”48

Coins as an important historical source confirm that Greek culture first spread to the coastal plain and from there into the province of Yehud. In the course of the new excavations in Azekah, two very well-preserved Athena coins with Greek letters were found, which illustrate this process of cultural expansion from west to east (fig. 3).49

Fig. 3: Athenian tetradrachm (ca. 450 BCE) from Azekah, season 2020. Obv.: Athena wearing a helmet. Rev.: Athenian owl and three Greek letters: alpha, theta and part of epsilon (© Oded Lipschits/Manfred Oeming50).

The archaeological and most importantly the numismatic finds indicate that Ashdod served as the gateway for the penetration of Greek culture into Judah during the Persian and early Hellenistic periods. This is reflected in the polemics of Neh 13:23–27, regardless of whether these verses go back to the historical Nehemiah or were written in the pre-Maccabean period.

48

GITLER/TAL 2006:23 (emphasis: M.O.). GITLER/TAL 2006. Cf. the map on p. 24 that illustrates the distribution of Athenian and Athenianstyled tetradrachms from controlled archaeological excavations. Azekah in the province of Yehud would now have to be added. 50 An appropriate publication is to follow. 49

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3. Language-policy, Language-philosophy of Language of Religion Finally, I would like to discuss some political, philosophical, and religious aspects of the text. Although the short section in Neh 13:24–25 should not be over-interpreted, it does provide, in nuce, deeper cultural and anthropological insights. The Book of Nehemiah knows about the enormous importance of language for society, religious identity, philosophy, and hermeneutics. Some (always important) insights into the reception history of the text will illustrate this. Language is much more than just a neutral vehicle for describing objects. First, in terms of language policy, the loss of a common language poses a threat to a society. Because I do not translate ‫ נכר‬in Neh 13:24 with “not to know”51 at all but only “not to consider carefully” (Job 21:29; 34:19), I assume that the children of foreign women could understand “Jewish” for sure, but they made intentionally no efforts to speak and cultivate it. This is already a great danger for the community.52 On the surface, the text deals with a crisis that forms the basis for ethnic problems. The formation of linguistic enclaves threatens the internal cohesion of society and solidarity. In the history of the Hebrew language there is an excellent example for this theory: In a period of national unrest throughout Europe, Eliezer Ben-Yehuda (1858–1922) began rebuilding Jewish identity through language policy: this visionary linguist, born in Lithuania, came to Israel in 1881 with a vision to transform Hebrew into a modern language to be spoken in every family in Israel.53 Ben Yehuda promoted the idea of making Hebrew the language of instruction in Israeli schools. He contributed to the development of Hebrew vocabulary for a modern Israeli society, created the first modern Hebrew dictionary, and published the first daily Hebrew language newspapers. His son, Itamar Ben-Avi, was the first child in modern times to grow up with Hebrew as his mother tongue. But language is not only important from an ethnic and national perspective, but also for philosophical concepts. The use of language is deeply connected to the specific perception of the world. A somewhat risky analogy: Neh 13:24 can be considered as an implication of the worldview of the Jewish language. Secondly, the linguistic theory and philosophy that combines language and perception of the world was advocated in Germany from the 1940s to the 1970s, especially by Leo Weisgerber (1899–1985). This Bonn-based specialist in German studies and linguist developed a “content-related grammar.” He was particularly influenced by the works of Wilhelm von Humboldt, Johann Gottfried Herder and Ferdinand de Saussure. Humboldt had already noticed the connection between language and country, nation, 51 The assumption that the explanations mentioned in Neh 8:7–9 were necessary because people no longer knew the Hebrew language, is wrong. After the reading of the Scripture passage, the people say: Amen! Cf. Neh 8:6. The exegesis by the Levites doesn’t deal with philological problems of translation, but with problems of the application of the Torah in daily live. ‫( מבינים‬v. 8) are those who can answer questions concerning the practical consequences of the law. 52 The loss of a commonly spoken language is problematic for the internal cohesion of a society. This can be observed time and again in the present, e.g., when the typical youth language becomes so interspersed with Anglicism and slang or mysterious abbreviations that impedes the inter-generational communication. 53 Cf. COULMAS 2016 on Eliezer Ben-Yehuda and his work.

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history and customs. For him, the study of the influence of language on human thought was the focus of linguistic research, rather than a historical-comparative analysis. Weisgerber attempted to develop this approach into a comprehensive scientific theory for determining the nature of language.54 According to earlier assumptions, “Language – understood as Energeia – is reality in the sense of an active force.”55 Weisgerber further developed Humboldt’s ideas and, with the help of a four-step model, developed an instrument of language research that enables the investigation of not only the formal but also the spiritual aspects of language. For Maimonides, the most famous Jewish philosopher of the Middle Ages, Neh 13:24 represents a parable dealing with the decline and loss of the Hebrew language. “Beginning with the Babylonian exile, he (Maimonides [M.O.]) notes the decline of Hebrew as a spoken language and thus the end of the monolithic linguistic orientation of the Jewish people.”56 But for Maimonides, the restoration of Hebrew as a sacred language is a fundamental task. He, therefore, calls for a constant “reassessment of the Jewish tradition.” Multilingualism poses a threat to him, so everything should be done to preserve the Hebrew language. Thirdly, the Jewish language has an important religious dimension. Jutta Hausmann clearly emphasized the spiritual aspect of language with regard to prayer, liturgy, and Holy Scripture. “Just as prayer can be understood as the visualization of the ‘absent partner’ god, also speaking about god creates a certain picture of him. By speaking other languages, other conceptions of God and foreign religious elements are integrated into one’s own ideas.”57

This is the reason why Nehemiah took action against the language of Ashdod. He tries to prevent a god other than YHWH from being worshipped in Jerusalem. At the same time, he opposed the opponents in Samaria.

4. Summary The enigma of Ashdodite can be solved only by the assumption that it means a foreign language that became very popular in Jerusalem. The only candidate for this is Greek. Neh 13* is one of the few post-chronistic texts in the Book of Nehemiah. It was written in Hellenistic times; a more precise dating from literary arguments alone is problematic.58 If we include the LXX, Ashdodite is in strong opposition to Yehudit. From the numismatic evidence, Greek is the only candidate attested in many coins. That Neh 13:24 refers to the “language of Ashdod” is no coincidence. Ashdod (the city and the province) is not only a cipher for otherness in general (as Berlejung rightly emphasizes), Ashdodite was really spoken by half of the youth in Jerusalem. The culture of 54

WEISGERBER 1933; 1949/50. WERLEN 2002:282. 56 SCHATZ 2006:44. 57 HAUSMANN 2015:127. 58 According to LANGE 2008:311, Neh 13* dates to a time when Hellenistic influences increased. 55

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the coastal plain was strongly influenced by Greece and this did not only affect the material culture, but also the language, which was different from Judah. The Hellenistic influence spread as far as the Judean Mountains and was, in particular, attractive to the modern young peoples. “Nehemiah’s” fights and brawls reflect the early phase of the “Kulturkampf” of the conservative circles in Jerusalem, as expressed for example in the dispute over the gymnasion (1 Macc 1; 2 Macc 4) as a promotor for Hellenistic culture and language. Although Neh 13* already shows an aggressive attitude toward foreign influences (Nehemiah beats and abuses the parents), there is no reference to the civil war of the Maccabean era. Thus, a dating before the beginning of the Maccabean revolt seems likely, i.e., around 180–170 BCE. Finally, we need to ask: Why didn’t the conservative circles of the 2nd century BCE express their anti-Greek attitude directly in Neh 13* and why didn’t they mention “the Greek language” as the reason for the fury of Nehemiah? One reason is that they deliberately chose not to mention it! No special lexeme is required for the designation of languages in Hebrew as well as in the Semitic languages in general. Language names are simply formed from the demonym (with -i), whereby the name is always expressed in feminine form (with -it). So, if the author of Neh 13* wanted to refer to the Greek language, he would have used the term *‫ ְי ָו ִנית‬.59 Undoubtedly, there was a word in Hebrew for the Greek language. But it is most remarkable: Nowhere in the Hebrew Bible and nowhere in the LXX such a term can be found! ‫ שפה יוונית‬is used in modern Hebrew and Eλληνική γλώσσα is the relevant expression in modern Greek, which can’t be found in the Bible! Ἑλληνικὸν χαρακτῆρα (2 Macc 4:10) or τὰ Ἑλληνικὰ (2 Macc 6:9) are used to denote Greek customs, sports, and fashion, but not for the Greek language. All in all, the fact that Greek is not mentioned in the Hebrew Bible is an expression of propagandistic silence, a sublime language policy. Just like the non-mention of the palace in Ramat Rahel or – very prominent – the fact that Alexander the Great was sanctioned by not mentioning his name60 in the Hebrew Bible, the Greek language also experienced a damnatio memoriae and is referred to in biblical texts only by pseudonyms.

List of Figures Fig. 1: Persian provinces at the time of Nehemiah (© Manfred Oeming; drawing: Benjamin Sitzmann). Fig. 2: Tetradrachm (17,05 g), ca. 450–350 BCE, Israel Museum Nr. 15280 (after GITLER/TAL 2006: pl. XV.1Ta). Fig. 3: Athenian tetradrachm (ca. 450 BCE) from Azekah, season 2020. Obv.: Athena wearing a Helmet. Rev.: Athenian owl and three Greek letters: alpha, theta and part of epsilon (© Oded Lipschits/Manfred Oeming).

59 60

I would like to thank Dirk Schwiderski, Heidelberg, for his support. Cf. EGO 2014.

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HENSEL, B. (2016), Juda und Samaria: Zum Verhältnis zweier Jahwismen in nach-exilischer Zeit (FAT 110), Tübingen. HENSEL, B. (2018), Ethnic Fiction and Identity-Formation: A New Explanation for the Background of the Question of Intermarriage in Ezra-Nehemiah, in: M. KARTVEIT/G.N. KNOPPERS (eds.), The Bible, Qumran, and the Samaritans (Studia Samaritana 10/Studia Judaica 104), Berlin/Boston, 133– 194. HIEKE, T. (2005), Esra und Nehmia (NSKAT 9/2), Stuttgart. HIEKE, T./NICKLAS, T. (2003), “Die Worte der Prophetie dieses Buches”: Offenbarung 22, 6–21 als Schlussstein der christlichen Bibel Alten und Neuen Testaments gelesen (BThS 62), NeukirchenVluyn. JANZEN, D. (2002), Witch-Hunts, Purity and Social Boundaries: The Expulsion of the Foreign Women in Ezra 9– 10 (JSOT.Sup 350), Sheffield. JOHNSON, B.J.M. (2015), Reading David and Goliath in Greek and Hebrew: A Literary Approach (FAT II/82), Tübingen. KOTTSIEPER, I. (2007), “And they did not care to speak Yehudit”: On Linguistic Change in Judah during the late Persian Era, in: R. ALBERTZ/G.N. KNOPPERS/O. LIPSCHITS (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E., Winona Lake, 95–124. KRATZ, R. (2000), Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments. Grundwissen der Bibelkritik (UTB 2157), Göttingen. LANGE, A. (2008), “Eure Töchter gebt nicht ihren Söhnen und ihre Töchter nehmt nicht für eure Söhne” (Esra 9,12): Die Frage der Mischehen im Buch Esra / Nehemia im Lichte der Textfunde von Qumran, in: M. BAUKS/K. LIESS/P. RIEDE (eds.), Was ist der Mensch, dass du seiner gedenkst? (Psalm 8,5): Aspekte einer theologischen Anthropologie. Festschrift für Bernd Janowski zum 65. Geburtstag, Neukirchen-Vluyn, 295–311. LIEU, J. (2002), Not Hellenes but Philistines?: The Maccabees and Josephus Defining the “Other”, JJS 53(2), 246–263. MACHINIST, P. (2000), Biblical Traditions: The Philistines and Israelite History, in: E.D OREN (ed.), The Sea Peoples and Their World: A Reassessment (University Museum Monograph 108), Philadelphia, 53–83. MAIER, C. (2013), Der Diskurs um interkulturelle Ehen in Jehud als antikes Beispiel von Intersektionalität, in: U.E. EISEN/C. GERBER/A. STANDHARTINGER (eds.), Doing gender – doing religion: Fallstudien zur Intersektionalität im frühen Judentum, Christentum und Islam (WUNT 302), Tübingen, 129–153. NAVEH, J./GREENFIELD, J.C. (1984), Art. “Hebrew and Aramaic in the Persian Period”, in: W.D. DAVIES/L. FINKELSTEIN (eds.), The Cambridge History of Judaism, Vol. 1: Introduction: The Persian Period, Cambridge et al., 115–129. NIEMANN, H.M. (2013), Neighbors and Foes, Rivals and Kin: Philistines, Shepheleans, Judeans between Geography and Economy, History and Theology, in: A.E. KILLEBREW/G. LEHMANN (eds.), The Philistines and other “Sea Peoples” in Text and Archaeology (SBL – ABS 15), Atlanta, 243– 264. OEMING, M. (2016), The Real History: The Theological Ideas behind Nehemiah’s Wall, in: I. KALIMI (ed.), New Perspectives on Ezra-Nehemiah: History and Historiography, Text, Literature, and Interpretation, Winona Lake, 151–170. OEMING, M. (2017), Rethinking the Origins of Israel: 1 Chr 1–9 in the Light of Archaeology, in: O. LIPSCHITS/Y. GADOT/M.J. ADAMS (eds.), Rethinking Israel: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Ancient Israel in Honor of Israel Finkelstein, Winona Lake, 303–318. OEMING, M. (2020), Cyrus, the Great Jew?: A Critical Comparison of Cyrus-Images in Judah, Babylon, and Greece, in: I. KALIMI (ed.), Writing and Rewriting History in Ancient Israel and Near Eastern Cultures, Wiesbaden, 189–210. OEMING, M. (in press), Jerusalem in der Perserzeit, in: A. GRAUPNER/Y. GADOT/M. OEMING (eds.), Die Geschichte Jerusalems.

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Contributors David Ben-Shlomo is a professor of Archaeology and head of the Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology at Ariel University, Israel. Yuval Gadot is a professor of Archaeology and head of the Jacob M. Alkow Department of Archaeology and Ancient Near Eastern Cultures at Tel Aviv University, Israel. Since 2013, he is director of the excavations of Tel Aviv University at the City of David (Silwan) and co-director of the Lautenschläger Azekah Expedition. Tilmann Gaitzsch is a PhD candidate at the chair for History and History of Religion of Ancient Israel and its Environment, Leipzig University, Germany. Benedikt Hensel is an assistant professor at the chair for Old Testament Studies and Early Jewish History of Religion, University of Zurich, Switzerland. Christian Locatell was a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Institute of Archaeology at Ariel University, Israel, and is currently a Golda Meir Postdoctoral Fellow at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel. Aren M. Maeir is a professor of Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Archaeology at the Institute of Archaeology, the (Martin) Szusz Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat-Gan, Israel, and is the head of the Institute of Archaeology. He is director of the Tell es-Safi/Gath Archaeological Project and co-director of the Minerva Center for the Relations between Israel and Aram in Biblical Times (RIAB). Jesse M. Millek is a visiting scholar at the Department of Middle Eastern Studies, University of Ann Arbor, MI, USA. Hermann M. Niemann is a professor emeritus of Biblical Archaeology and Old Testament Studies at Rostock University, Germany. He is a corresponding member of the Finnish Academy of Science and Letters and member of the board of the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine (DPV e.V.). Manfred Oeming is a professor of Old Testament Theology at Heidelberg University, Germany. He is co-director of the Lautenschläger Azekah Expedition.

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Itzhaq Shai is an associate professor of Archaeology at the Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology at Ariel University, Israel, where he serves as the Vice President for Research and Development. He is director of the Tel Burna Excavation Project. Joseph (Joe) Uziel is an archaeologist at the Israel Antiquities Authority, Jerusalem District. He was director of excavations at the City of David (Silwan) and is currently director of the Dead Sea Scrolls unit of the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA). Dieter Vieweger is the director of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Jerusalem, Israel, and Amman, Jordan, Research Unit of the German Archaeological Institute, and professor of Biblical Archaeology at the University of Wuppertal, Germany. He is director of several excavations in the Near East. Jennifer Zimni is a research assistant at the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Jerusalem, Israel, Research Unit of the German Archaeological Institute. She is a PhD candidate at the University of Wuppertal, Germany.

Index of Sources 1. Old Testament Genesis 10:4 10:13.22 11:7 14:17

193f 210 217 149

Exodus 7:11 8:11.28 9:3 9:7.34 10:5f.12.15 10:7 10:25 11:6 12:30 28:20 39:13

174 174 174 174 174 174 174 174 174 193 193

Numbers 18:18

149

Joshua 10:29–32 12:15f 15:8 15:9 15:10 15:42–44 18:14 18:14.15 18:16.28 18:28 21:13 21:16

88 88 63, 65 166, 173 173 88 173 173 63 173 88 173

Judges 1:21 3:10

63 171

4:4 10:2.3 12:7–9.11.14 15:20 16:31 1 Samuel 1–3 2 2:11–17.22–25 2:11–18.22–26 3 3:11–14 4 4–6 4–7:1.2a 4:1.5 4:1–7:1 4:1b–3 4:1b–4a.5–11a 4:1b–6a.9–21 4:1b–7:1 4:1b–7:1.2a 4:1b–18a.19–21 4:1b–22 4:2–7:1.2a 4:3 4:3.4.12 4:4 4:4–9 4:5–12 4:6–8a 4:10f 4:11 4:12–22 4:21 4:21.22 4:22

171 171 171 171 171

165f, 171f 172 172 172 172 172 164, 166, 171f, 175f, 179f, 183–186 163–167, 175f, 182, 185 163 163 169, 175f, 184 170 166, 172 172, 175, 185 164 164 164 170f 170 179f 163 167, 170f, 176, 183 170 163 167 170 172, 175, 180 170 180, 186 175 175, 180, 185

236 5 5–6 5:1 5:1–7:1 5:1–7:1.2a 5:1–7:2a 5:1–7:2b 5:1–8 5:1–11b.12 5:1–12 5:2 5:2–5.7b 5:3–5.7b 5:6 5:6.7.9.11 5:6.9 5:6.9.12 5:7 5:7f 5:8f 5:8.11 5:9 5:10 5:10–12 5:10.12 5:11 6:1–11 6:2 6:2–11 6:2.8 6:3.5 6:4 6:4.5 6:4.12.16.18 6:4.16 6:5 6:7 6:8 6:9 6:12.16 6:12–20 6:12–7:1 6:13 6:14 6:17 6:19 6:20f 6:21–7:2a 7:1 7:1.2a 7:2a

Index of Sources 167f, 172, 177, 181, 184 164f, 167, 180, 185, 187, 172, 175f, 180 174f, 180, 185–187 163, 172 172 172 163, 168 164 180 172 185 168, 181f, 185 174 180 180 174 182 187 170 174 163, 172 180 163, 172 174 174 180 173f 173 174 174, 180 173 174 174 173 174 176 174 174, 180 173 163, 170, 173 181 182 174 173 174, 180 173 163 163f, 166, 173–176, 185 166, 169 163f

8–12 9 9:16 13 19:18–24 21:2 21:10 21:11 22:1 22:3 22:4f 23:1–13 23:18 23:19–24 23:25 24:1 24:23 25:2 26:1 27 27–29 27:2 27:5–6 27:6 27:8 27:8f 29 29:11 30 30:9f 30:26–31 2 Samuel 1:1 2:1–3 2:1–4 2:1–11 3:1–4 5 5:1–5 5:1–16 5:10 5:17–25 5:17–6:19 5:21 5:22 5:25 6 6–8 6:1

175 185 185 185 73 73 176 73 73 73 73f 70, 74 74 74 74 74 74 74 74 23, 33 33 74 74 74 74 74 33 74 74 74 74

74 74 74 79 79 65, 183f 79 166, 184 184 164, 183–185 185 183–185 65 65 163–167, 169, 175f, 180, 182f, 186 179 174, 184

237

Index of Sources 6:1–11.12–19 6:1–15.17–20a 6:1–23 6:2 6:2.5 6:3 6:4–11 6:7.8.9.11 6:9 6:11.12 6:12.14.16b 6:17 6:20–23 7 12–17.22–25 15:7–11 20:7 31:10

163 164 163 166f, 171, 176, 183 180 173, 176 182 180 182 180 182 163, 180, 183 167, 182 167, 182 171f 74 23, 33 176

1 Kings 4:9 6:23–32 7 8 8:6 8:6f 9:26–28 9:27f 10:11 10:22 11:1f 12 14:21.31 15:2 15:6.10 15:10 15:16–22 15:18–21 15:22 15:27 16:15–17 20:10 22:45.48–50 22:48–59 22:49

173 171 64 167 183 171 195 196 195f 195f, 199 215 66, 79 77 77, 79 79 77 76 66 79 70 70 198 75 78 195, 199

2 Kings 8:16–24 8:20–22 8:22 8:25–28

71 75f 71, 88, 90, 110 77

12:19 14:7 14:8–14 14:13 14:19 14:22 15:10 15:14 15:25 15:30 16:6 18:3f 18:8 18:28 19:8 21 21:16 23:4 23:15 23:29f 23:31 24:18 24:28

105 75f 71, 75 76 72 75 75, 77 75 75 75 75 69 75 217 88, 90 69 69 104, 109 75 79 71, 88, 90, 110 71, 90 88

Isaiah 1–32 1:2–2:5 1:27 1:29f 1:31 2 2:6 2:6–22 2:6–4:6 2:7 2:10–19 2:10.19.21 2:11.17 2:12 2:12–16 2:12–17 2:12–18 2:12.19.21 2:16 3:12 4:2 11:12 13:1 13:11.19 14:1f 14:11

208 197f 205 205 205 197 197f 198 198 198 198 208 208 198, 210 198 198, 208 209 208 196f, 198f, 204, 208–211 204 208 204 208, 220 208 204 208

238 16:6 19:9 19:18 22 22:9f 23 23:1–14 23:1 23:1.14 23:2 23:4 23:9 23:11 23:12 23:15 23:15–18 23:15.17 24–27 24:14 24:23 36:11.13 37:8 40–55 40:2 40:19f 42:4 42:17 43:1–6 44:9–20 45:13 45:20 45:22 46:1f 48:3–5 49:22f 51:5 52:10 54:7f 55:5 56–66 60 60–62 60–63 60:1–3.18–20 60:4 60:8f 60:9 60:16 60:17 65–66

Index of Sources 208 102 218 199 117 197, 199, 203–205, 207–211 199f, 208, 211 203 199 203 203 208 205 201, 210 208 199f, 202, 209 199 199, 209 208 204 217 88, 90 197, 204 204 181 204 181 204 181 204 206 205 181 181 204 204 205 204 204 197, 204 197, 204, 207, 209 204 204 204 197 205 197, 204f, 207, 209–211 204 204 197

66 66:15 66:15–24 66:17 66:17–18a 66:19 66:20 66:23 66:24

197, 205, 207, 209 206 206 205, 207 206 197f, 205–207, 209–211 197, 205, 207, 209 207 205

Jeremiah 4:23f 10:9 26:9 LXX 31:8 46:9 52:1

201 194 210 205 210 88, 90

Ezekiel 1:16 10:9 27:10 27:12 27:25 28:13 30:3 30:5 38:13 40:3

194 194 210 194 196 194 208 210 194 102

Hosea 2:7.11

102

Amos 1:6–8 3:9

223 223

Jonah 1:3 4:2

194, 196, 211 194, 196, 211

Micah 1–3 1:10

79f, 71, 170

Zechariah 9:5–7 9:6 9:6f 14 14:21

1, 4 223 223 207 207

239

Index of Sources Psalms 48 48:5 48:7 48:8 48:9 72:10

195–197 195 205 195f 195 194

Job 21:29 34:19 36:18

226 226 198

Proverbs 31:13

102

Song of Songs 5:14

194

Esther 1:14

193

Daniel 10:6

194

Nehemiah 1–7 3:15 3:33–6:19 8–10 8:6 8:7–9 10:30 11 11–13 11:1.18 12 12:37 13 13:1 13:1–3 13:1–31 13:4 13:4–14 13:15 13:15–22 13:23 13:23f

220 219f 76 219f 226 226 220 220 220f 219 220 219 217, 219–221, 227f 220 220 220 220 220 220 220 218, 220, 223 1, 4, 215, 217f

13:23–27 13:23–31 13:24 13:24f 13:24–27 13:26f 13:28–30

220, 222f, 225 221f 226f 226 219 222 220

1 Chronicles 1:7 6:57 7:10 14:8–17 14:12 18:1–17 19 20:1–4

193f, 196 88 193 76 184 76 76 76

2 Chronicles 8:17 8:18 9:2 9:10f 9:12 9:21 11:5.12 11:21f 13:2 13:19 14:8–14 16:1–6 16:2–5 20 20:35 20:35–37 20:37 21:8–11 21:10 25:11f 25:23 26:6 26:8–10 27:5 32:18 33 33:17

195f 196 195f 195 195 195f 72 77 77 76 76 76 66 76 195 195f 195 76 71, 88, 90 76 76 76, 223 77 77 217 69 69

240

Index of Sources

2. Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha 1 Maccabees 1 1:11–15 10:83f 11:4

228 223f 172 172

2 Maccabees 4

223, 228

4:7–20 4:9–15 4:10 4:13 4:19 6:9

224 223 228 223 224 228

3. Qumran 1QIsa

4QIsab

201, 206

206

4. Ancient Near East Annals of Sargon II from Dur Šarrukin ll. 15f 178

335 366

Arad Ostraca

Great Summary Inscription of Sargon II from Dur Šarrukin l. 24 178

67 BM 118885 El-Amarna Letters 273 280 285–291 290

177

62 62 62 63

Mesha Stele ll. 10–14

62 62

176

Nimrud Prism of Sargon II 4:31–33 178 Siloam Inscription 151

5. Classical Sources Eusebius of Caesarea Onomasticon 88 Herodotus Historiae I:163

195

Josephus Flavius De Bello Judaico V:142–145 VI:370f

117 122

Antiquitates Judaicae XIII:4 223

Index of Ancient Names 1. Personal Names Abdi-Ḫepa 62f, 104 Abijah 76–78 Abinadab 166, 173 Abishai ben Zeruiah 76 Absalom 74, 77 Abu Shama 142 Achish 33 Adaiah of Bozkat 78 Ahab 77 Ahaz 65, 72, 75, 78, 155 Ahaziah 75, 78 Ahmose 40 al-Malik al Kamil, Muhammed 142 al-Muʿazzam, Malik 142 Alexander the Great 228 Amaziah 71 Amenophis III 41 Amon 69, 78 An-Nasir 142 Artaxerxes III 201 Asa 66, 77 Assurbanipal (Aššur-bāni-apli) 68, 177f, 181, 187, 202 Athaliah 71, 75, 77, 79 Azariah 75–77, 79 Baal of Tyre 202 Baasha 66 Ben-Avi, Itamar 226 Ben-Yehuda, Eliezer 226 Chronicler, the 69, 76f, 195–197, 221f Cyrus the Great 177 David 23, 33, 63, 65f, 69–71, 73–80, 163f, 166f, 170, 176, 182–184 de Saussure, Ferdinand 226

Ebenezer 163, 170, 175 Eleazar 166, 173 Eli 166, 170f Eliashib 221f Eliazar 175 Elnathan 78 Esarhaddon (Aššur-aḫa-iddina) 68, 177f, 181, 183, 202 Eudocia 116, 124, 141 ʿĒzer 96 Flavius Josephus 117 Frederick II 142 Goliath 176 Hadadezer 76 Ḥaggî 96 Hamutal 71, 78, 88, 90, 110 Haruz 78 Hazael 2, 7f, 10, 12, 14f, 66, 71f, 75 Herder, Johann Gottfried 226 Hezekiah 3, 15, 67–69, 71f, 75, 78f, 117, 145, 147, 150f, 153–156, 170, 186f Hiram of Tyre 195 Hophni 170 Hoshea 75 Huram 195 Ichabod 171, 175 Jedidah 78 Jehoahaz 71, 78 Jehoash 71 Jehoiakim 78 Jehoram 71, 75–79 Jehoshaphat 195 Jehu 72, 206

242

Index of Ancient Names

Jeremiah of Libna (Tel Burna) 78 Jeroboam I 76 Jeroboam II 71, 77, 79, 169, 223 Joash 66, 71, 75–77 Joiada 221f Jonah 211 Jonathan 172, 224 Joshua 181 Josiah 68, 72, 75, 78f, 88, 110, 186 Jotham 68, 77–79 Maimonides 227 Manasseh 65, 67–69, 72, 78f, 143, 146f, 150–152, 155f, 186 Menahem 72, 75 Mesha 176 Meshullemeth 69, 78 Micah of Moresheth 79 Michal 167, 182, 225 Moses 220 Nadab ben Jeroboam 70 Nebuchadnezzar II (Nabû-kudurrī-uṣur II) 202 Nehushta 78 Nehemiah 215, 217–222, 224–225, 227–228

Rehoboam 66, 77f Rezin 75 Saladin 142 Samuel 165–166, 185–186 Sanballat 221f Sargon II 143, 178f, 183, 187 Saul 23, 33, 65f, 70f, 73f, 77, 164, 170, 176, 185f Sennacherib 14, 67f, 72, 79, 102, 145, 147, 152f, 178f, 183, 187, 201 Shallum ben Jabesh 75 Shalmaneser III 177 Shalmaneser V 145 Shu-Ilishu 177 Sinaranu 52 Solomon 66, 70, 165, 195, 205, 215, 221f Tiglath-Pileser III 178f Tobiah 221 Tudhalia IV 48 Tuthmosis III 41 Uzzah 166 Uzziah 68, 75–79, 223 von Humboldt, Wilhelm 226

Omri 77 Weisgerber, Leo 226 Padi 75 Pedaiah 78 Peka 75 Pekahiah 75 Phineas 170

Zebidah 78 Zechariah 75 Zedekiah 71, 78 Zibiah 78 Zimri 70

Ramesses II 41 Ramesses III 41

2. Place, Mountain and River Names Acco, Acco Plain 42f, 45 Adullam 73f Afghanistan 49, 51 Africa 11 Ahhiyawa 48 Aialon 62 Akkar Plain 50 Alassa Paliotaverna 45, 53 Amman Airport Structure 42–44

Ammon 76f, 221 Amurru 48 Anata 63 Anatolia 47, 50f Aphek 53 Aqaba 78 Arabah 10–12, 47 Arabia 11, 14, 66, 78 Arad 30, 67, 72, 79, 146

Index of Ancient Names Aram 66, 75f, 80 Argolid 40, 44, 47f, 51f Armon HaNatsiv (Jebel el-Muqabber) 149 Arpad 179 (A-)Ruma 78 Ashdod 1, 4, 25, 28, 32, 76, 89, 153, 163,168, 172–174, 178, 181, 187, 215–219, 222– 225, 227 Ashkelon 1, 14, 32, 42, 45, 50, 53, 89, 172f, 178, 218, 223f Assur, Assyria 48, 68, 76, 79f, 145, 180, 187f, 201 ͑Atlit 225 Azekah 71, 89, 96, 223, 225 Baale-judah 166, 184 Babylon, Babylonia 168, 202 Beersheba 24, 66–68, 70, 72, 78 Benjamin, Benjamin Plateau 63, 65f, 73, 77– 79, 170, 173 Beth-Shean 42f, 128 Beth-Shemesh 24, 27, 43, 62, 67, 71f, 79, 96, 163, 170, 173–175 Beth-Zur 62, 225 Bethel 24, 62f, 65, 76, 79, 169f Bethlehem 76, 142 Bīt-dNIN.URTA (Bet-Horon?) 63 Bozkath 69 Byblos 50, 195 Cairo 142 Canaan, Canaanite(s) 7, 32, 34, 50, 53, 61, 63, 76, 109, 166, 218, 223 Carmel 28, 42f, 74, 77 Carthage 209, 211 City of David (Silwan) 13, 28f, 30f, 103, 106, 145, 148f, 152f, 219 Coenaculum 131 Cornwall 49 Crete 52 Cyprus 2f, 8, 40, 43–51, 54, 201–203, 211 Dahir al-Umar 74 Damascus 2, 76, 142 Damietta 142 Dan 43, 169f Dead Sea 63, 67f, 74, 80 Debir 62 Dor 11, 27, 45, 49, 51, 53, 218 Dur Šarrukin (Khorsabad) 178f, 183

243

Edom, Edomite(s) 12, 71, 75f, 218 Egypt 11, 48–52, 74, 77, 142, 174, 187, 200, 202, 218, ʿEin Hania 149 ʿEin Jawaza 149, 152 Ekron 10, 30, 32, 71f, 75, 153, 163, 172–174, 182, 187 El-burj 63, 147 Elah Valley 70 Elath 75 Elephantine 218 Eleutheropolis (Bet Guvrin) 88 Emar 53 En-Gedi 68f, 74 En Hatzeva 67, 79 England 49 Enkomi 46, 54 Ephrat(a), Ephratite 65f, 73, 80 Ephron 76 Er-Ras 147f Eter (Kh. El-Aʿter) 88 Galilee 42f, 78, 110 Gath 2, 7–10, 12–15, 23, 30, 33, 62f, 66, 70– 74, 76, 78, 89, 163, 167f, 170, 172–174, 181, 187, 223 Gaza 2, 25, 75, 89, 172f, 178f, 223f Gerar 77 Geshur 74 Gezer 42, 62f, 71, 76, 96 Gibbethon (Ras Abu Hamid?) 70 Gibeon 63, 65, 67f, 77, 79 Gihon Spring 63, 103f, 145, 150 Givati Parking Lot 107f Greece 3, 10, 39f, 44, 47f, 51f, 224, 228 Guadalquivir 193 Hachila 74 Hagia Sion 126, 143 Hala Sultan Tekke 45f, 53 Hamath 76, 179 Hazor 42f, 53 Hebron 62, 66, 74, 77 Heliopolis 218 Hinnom Valley 116f, 129, 141 Ḫirbet al-Urma 78 Ḫirbet ar-Ruma 78 Horvat Shilchah 68

244

Index of Ancient Names

Iberia 50, 211 India 11 Indian Ocean 195 Jaar-Hereth 73f Jabneh 76 Jaffa 45, 53, 142 Jericho 63, 68, 109 Jerusalem 1–4, 12–15, 23f, 26–33, 62 –70, 72– 81, 87, 103–110, 116f, 122, 124, 133, 138, 142f, 145 –150, 152–156, 163f, 166, 168, 170, 173, 180, 182–184, 186, 199, 202, 204–209, 211f, 215, 217–219, 221–224, 227f Jeshana 76 Jezreel Valley 28, 42f Jordan 42, 75, 77 Jordan River 63 Jotbah 69, 78 Judah, Judea(n/ns) 1–4, 9f, 12, 14f, 23–25, 28– 30, 32–34, 65–67, 69, 71– 81, 88, 90, 95, 100, 102, 104–110, 145, 147f, 152f, 155, 163, 166f, 169f, 173, 176, 184, 187, 195, 199, 202f, 208, 215, 218–220, 222–225, 228 Kadesh Barnea 69, 79 Kazakhstan 49, 51 Khirbet Abu et-Twēn 63 Khirbet Dawara 13, 32 Khirbet Deir es-Sidd 63 Khirbet el Rai 75 Khirbet Qeiyafa 14, 29, 32, 70, 75 Kidron 104, 106, 149, 151 Kiriath-Jearim 163–166, 168–170, 173–176, 185 Kition 45 Kouklia Palaepaphos 45f Kourion ([Episkopi]-Bamboula) 45, 53 Kuntillet ʿAǧrud 66, 75, 79 Lachish 42f, 68, 71f, 74, 79, 88f, 91, 96, 105, 108, 153, 223, 225 Lebanon 42, 45, 64 Libnah see Tel Burna Lithuania 226 Lydda 142 Maa Paleokastro 53 Mamilla 148, 156 Manahat 63, 65, 147

Maqedah (Kh. El-Kôm) 88 Maresha (Tel Ṣandaḥanna) 77, 88 Maroni-Vournes 45, 53 Megiddo 9, 27, 42f, 225 Mesopotamia 81, 176f, 209 Midea 47 Mizpa see Tell en-Nasbeh Moab, Moabite 73, 75f, 176, 216, 218, 222 Mordot Arnona 149, 152 Mount Gerizim 225 Mount Zion 3, 115f, 124, 126, 131, 139, 141– 143, 186, 203–205 Moza 13, 24–28, 30, 32f, 63–65, 146, 148 Mycenae 47, 52, 54 Nahal Guvrin 89 Nahal Soreq 64f, 71f, 147f, 153 Nazareth 142 Negev 26, 66–69, 72, 74, 79, 146 Nimrud 178f Nineveh 177, 179, 183, 194 Nob 73, 176 Nora (Sardinia) 193 Ophel 29, 103, 105, 107 Ophir 195f Palestine 1, 7, 23, 33f, 116, 142, 225 Parthia 209 Peloponnese 47 Persian Empire 217f Philistia 3, 7–15, 23–34, 50, 109, 163f, 175, 181, 187, 215, 224 Phoenicia 2, 8–12, 196, 199, 202, 205, 207, 211 Qilti (Qeilah) 62 Ramah 73 Ramallah 68 Ramat Rahel 63, 65, 67f, 146, 149, 152, 228 Ras el-Kharrubeh 63 Ras Shamra 45, 48, 51, 53 Red Sea 75, 110, 195 Rephaim Valley 63, 65, 104, 147–149, 152 Samaria (Sebaste) 9, 23f, 77, 122, 163, 178f, 219, 221, 227 Sea of Galilee 110 Seir 76 Shechem 62

Index of Ancient Names Shephelah 14, 24, 26, 28–30, 42, 62, 66–74, 76–80, 87–89, 96, 105f, 147, 153, 170, 173, 187 Shiloh 24, 163, 166, 169f, 180, 186 Shiqmona 45 Shur 74 Sidon 45, 50, 200–204, 208, 211, 218 South Caucasus 49 Spain 194f, 199 Tarshish 193–199, 202–205, 207–212 Tarsus 193 Tartessos 193f, 205, 208, 210 Tel Aviv 26, 223 Tel Batash (Timnah) 42 Tell Beit Mirsim 24, 42 Tel Burna (Libnah) 3, 71, 75f, 78, 87–110 Tel Eton 24, 67 Tel Halif 68 Tel ʿIra 67 Tel Masos 24, 29 Tel Michal 225 Tel Miqne see Ekron Tel Mor 42 Tel Qiri 27 Tel Rehov 27 Tel Zayit 88 Tell Abu Hawam 41–45 Tell el-ʿAjjul 42f

245

Tell el-Ful 63 Tell en-Nasbeh (Mizpah) 24–27, 32f, 66f, 68, 79 225 Tell es-Safi see Gath Tell es-Sebaʿ 68 Tell Jemmeh 32, 42 Tell Shech Ahmed al-Areini 68 Timnah 47 Tiryns 47, 54 Transjordan 42–44, 76 Tyre 12, 50, 194–197, 199–204, 208–211, 218, 224 Ugarit 39f, 48f, 52 Unki 179 Wadi Besor 74 Wadi-ed-Daliyeh 225 Wadi Faynan 47 Yarkon River 42–44 Yavne 187 Yehud 76, 211, 217f, 220, 223, 225–227 Ziklag 33, 74 Zion see Mount Zion Ziph 74 Zorah 62 Zur Baher 149

3. Gods and Supernatural Beings Asherah 100 Ashur 183 Astarte 100, 176 Athena 224f

Hathor 100 Heracles 224

Chemosh 176

Tammuz 208

Dagon 168, 172, 181f, 224

YHWH 4, 166, 168, 171, 173f, 176, 179– 184, 186, 194–196, 198f, 203–211, 220, 227

Sekhmet 32

Index of Subjects Altar 13, 64 Amber 193 ʿApiru 73f Arabah copper trade 10–12, 47 Archaeometallurgy 55f, 60, Archetypical scenario 221 Ashdoda 30f Ashlar building, Ashlar masonry 46, 122, 148f Assyrian culture 3, 156 Athenian coins 224f Babylonian Exile 164, 168, 174, 203, 217, 227 Barques 198, 210 Bedouins 61 Bitanu 149, 152 Breastplate 193 Casemate wall 91, 95, 100, 106 Cenomanian limestone 133 Cherubim 167, 171, 176, 183 Chthonic rites 208 Citrine 193 Covenant 180, 220, 222 Cultic enclosure 91 Cultic reform of Hezekiah 69 Damnatio memoriae 228 Day of YHWH 198f, 208 Demons 201 Diaspora 197, 205, 207, 209, 211 Eschatological drama 205, 207 Exodus 167f, 171, 174f, 185 Farmstead(s) 147, 153 Figurine(s) 2, 13, 23, 30–33, 64, 68, 100, 108f First Crusade 142

Fleet 195f, 198, 203, 205 Four-room house 94f Garden 3, 116, 131f, 131, 141, 149, 151–153, 156, 205 Gemstone 193 Godnapping 164, 176–184, 186–188 Gymnasion 223f, 228 Harbor 40, 42, 203, 223 Hellenization, Hellenistic influence 4, 223, 225, 228 Hematite 193 History of David’s Rise 165, 183f Holy Scripture(s) 217, 227 Hubris 198, 208 Idol(s) 76, 168, 181, 183f, 224 Intermarriage see mixed marriage Judean Inscribed Limestone Weights 68 Judean Pillar Figurines 32, 68, 100, 108f, Kiln 129f, 133 Kulturkampf 4, 223, 228 Language policy 226, 228 Late Philistine Decorated Ware (LPDW) 2, 8f, 13, 28–30, 71, 109, 187 Lead 194 Levites 207, 220, 222, 226 Linear B 52 Linguistic nationalism 217 Linguistic philosophy 226 Linguistic theory 226 Lmlk handles, lmlk jars, lmlk stamps 67f, 72, 95, 97, 107, 146f, 170 Loom weights 91, 96, 100 Maccabean revolt 228 Mamzer 223

Index of Subjects Mixed marriages 215, 217, 220f Moza clay 24–26, 28, 30 Multilingualism 217, 227 Nehemiah memoir 220–222 New moon celebrations 207 Nile perch 50f Olive oil 10, 102, 109, 187 Oracle 197, 199–202, 208 Petrography 13, 25, 27–29, 50, 102 Philistine Pentapolis 167, 173, 187 Phoenician Bichrome Ware 8 Pilgrim(s), pilgrimage(s) 33, 126, 204, 207 Polytheism 224 Proskynesis 181 Prostitution 203 Royal chapel 64 Royal estates 153 Sea Peoples 28, 34, 39, 46, 53, 187 Second Temple 105, 203f, 220

247

Shabbat 207 Shekel weights 67 Ship(s), shipping 1, 48, 51f, 75, 195–199, 202–205, 208–212 Silver 45f, 50f, 53, 194, 196 Temple 8, 13, 32f, 63f, 66, 81, 103–105, 109, 131, 149, 152, 165, 168f, 172, 176, 181, 183, 202–204, 206, 219f, 224 Tetradrachm 224f, 228 Textiles 95, 100–102 Tin 40, 45, 49, 51, 194 Topaz 193 Torah 168, 215, 219f, 223, 226 Trade 1, 3, 7f, 10–12, 14f, 24, 28, 33, 39f, 43–45, 47–54, 63, 66–68, 75, 78f, 100, 102, 104, 108f, 187, 194–199, 202–204, 209–211, 220, 223 Treaty of Jaffa 142 War Palladium 170–172, 179, 185 Wine 65, 102, 147f, 187