Memory in the Bible and Antiquity: The Fifth Durham-Tübingen Research Symposium (Durham, September 2004) 316149251X, 9783161492518

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber/Editor Jörg Frey (München) Mitherausgeber/Associate Editors Friedrich Avemarie (Marburg) Judith Gundry-Volf (New Haven, CT) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL)

212

Memory in the Bible and Antiquity The Fifth Durham-Tübingen Research Symposium (Durham, September 2004)

edited by Stephen C. Barton Loren T. Stuckenbruck Benjamin G. Wold

Mohr Siebeck

Stephen C. Barton is Reader at Durham University in the Department of Theology and Religion. Loren T. Stuckenbruck holds the B. F. Westcott Chair in Biblical Studies at Durham University Benjamin G. Wold is Alexander von Humboldt Fellow at the Protestant Faculty of Theo-logy, University of Tübingen.

e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-151501-9

ISBN 978-3-16-149251-8 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliogra-phie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. © 2007 by Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, Germany. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Selignow Verlagsservice in Berlin, printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

Table of Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

Joachim Schaper The Living Word Engraved in Stone: The Interrelationship of the Oral and the Written and the Culture of Memory in the Books of Deuteronomy and Joshua . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Erhard Blum Historiography or Poetry? The Nature of the Hebrew Bible Prose Tradition

25

Benjamin G. Wold Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos . . . . . . . .

47

Loren T. Stuckenbruck The Teacher of Righteousness Remembered: From Fragmentary Sources to Collective Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

75

Hermann Lichtenberger History-writing and History-telling in First and Second Maccabees . . . . . .

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William Horbury The Remembrance of God in the Psalms of Solomon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 John Barclay Memory Politics: Josephus on Jews in the Memory of the Greeks . . . . . . . 129 Doron Mendels Societies of Memory in the Graeco-Roman World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 Anthony Le Donne Theological Memory Distortion in the Jesus Tradition: A Study in Social Memory Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 James D. G. Dunn Social Memory and the Oral Jesus Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179

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Martin Hengel Der Lukasprolog und seine Augenzeugen: Die Apostel, Petrus und die Frauen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Ulrike Mittmann-Richert Erinnerung und Heilserkenntnis im Lukasevangelium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Anna Maria Schwemer Erinnerung und Legende: Die Berufung des Paulus und ihre Darstellung in der Apostelgeschichte . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277 Hans-Joachim Eckstein Das Johannesevangelium als Erinnerung an die Zukunft der Vergangenheit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Stephen C. Barton Memory and Remembrance in Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321 Markus Bockmuehl New Testament Wirkungsgeschichte and the Early Christian Appeal to Living Memory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341

List of Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371 Primary Literature. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371 Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384 Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 391

Introduction

The essays brought together in this volume are the fruitful outcome of the Fifth Durham-Tübingen Research Symposium, held in the Department of Theology and Religion, Durham University, 18–23 September 2004. The theme of the sympo-sium was ‘Memory and Remembrance in Early Judaism and Early Christianity’. It was chosen on the basis of a perception that, apart from the considerable atten-tion that has been given in biblical and related studies to the role of memory and especially memorization in the formation and passing on of tradition, there has been surprisingly little investigation of the theological and socio-religious signifi-cance of memory, remembrance and commemoration in early Judaism and Chris-tianity. The aim of the symposium was, through papers and collegial discussion, to contribute to a better understanding of the meaning and significance of mem-ory and remembrance as constitutive elements of Jewish and Christian practice and self-definition in the early period. But why is the subject important? While the contributions to this volume will make some aspects of its significance clear, a number of more general reasons may be offered here. First, since being human involves living in time and over time (past, present and future), the study of memory and remembrance offers a signif-icant way into the question of what it means to be human. In particular, it offers a way of exploring how in human life, both individual and social, the present is constituted both by how the past is perceived and by the way interpretation of the past gives guidance for the way humans conceive the future. Second, the study of memory and remembrance is especially important in rela-tion to the Judeo-Christian tradition because being human according to this tradi-tion involves the ongoing discovery that time has a particular shape. It is shaped by humankind’s relationship with God, a relationship that can be put into words in the form of a narrative with a past, present and future. This narrative tells the story of God as creator and redeemer and of humankind as created and redeemed. In other words, study of memory and remembrance in Judaism and Christianity is a way into the discernment of the nature and character of God and of what it means to be and to live as the people of God. Third, as fundamental aspects of humanity’s place under God in time, the study of memory and remembrance is a vital aspect of the study of identity and charac-ter, of how groups and societies create and sustain a sense of who they are and who they want to be by locating themselves in relation to time, especially time past. To grasp this is to begin to grasp the importance at all kinds of levels – social, eco-nomic, political, religious, cultural – of marking (and marking out) time in particu--

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Introduction

lar ways. On this understanding, practices of remembrance and commemoration – including, crucially, their repetition – take on new meaning, and this becomes an invitation to attend with utmost care inter alia to rites of passage, genealogies, calendrical matters, festivals, liturgical practices, purity rules, pilgrimage, heroes, and the formation and transmission of law, scripture and tradition. Of course, issues of identity and character as marked out by time are contested matters. This is the other reason why the study of memory and remembrance is important. It is because individual and social identities involve the interpretation of time and of my/our place in time that how time is observed (in both senses of the word) will be interestingly different between different individuals and groups. It is likely also to be a focus of tension and conflict. In relations between Jews and between Jews and Christians, sabbath observance is perhaps the most obvious case in point, at least at the level of everyday life. In the wider matter of overall world-view, the impact on Jews and Christians of sapiential and apocalyptic interpreta-tions of time appears to have played a critical, identity-defining role with profound implications for the exercise of memory and practices of remembrance. For at least these reasons, therefore, the subject is an important one and much work remains to be done. As the following summary of the essays in this volume shows, it is hoped that the work presented here will help to fill the gap as well as to open up further areas of exploration. The essays on ‘memory and remembrance’ in the present volume cover a number of areas that relate to the study of the Jewish and Christian traditions within the context of antiquity: the Hebrew Bible, the Dead Sea Scrolls, Second Temple Judaism and the Ancient World, the New Testament (Jesus traditions, Luke-Acts, Gospel of John, the Pauline corpus) and early Christianity. The first two contributions relating to the Hebrew Bible are presented by Joachim Schaper and Erhard Blum. Schaper’s essay is entitled ‘The Living Word Engraved in Stone: The Interrelationship of the Oral and the Written and the Cul-ture of Memory in the Books of Deuteronomy and Joshua’. Taking Deuteronomy 9:10 (‘written with the finger of God’) as the point of departure, Schaper focuses on the ways writing is understood in the books of Deuteronomy and Joshua, devot-ing special attention to the theme of the conquest of Canaan. In bringing sacred oral tradition to expression, the act of writing does two things: it makes the divine word immutable and it makes it possible to commit it to memory. To the extent that the latter takes place, writing once again ‘dissolves’ into speech (Deut. 6:7). If Schaper’s contribution considers the phenomenon of writing as a subject matter within the texts themselves, that of Erhard Blum (‘Historiography or Prose? The Peculiarities of the Hebrew Prose Tradition’) addresses the question of how the texts may be understood in relation to other known forms of ancient history writing. After a thoroughgoing review and evaluation of 20th century scholarship, Blum identifies and evaluates several ways the prose narratives of the Hebrew Bible have been understood: they (1) reflect the development of a special form of history writing within Israel (esp. E. Meyer, G. von Rad), (2) share significant

Introduction

3

parallels with the emerging Greek historiographic tradition (e.g. J. Van Seters, R. N. Whybray), or (3) are simply fictive, artistic productions as attested by their sometimes poetic character. By emphasizing the importance of parameters set by ‘textpragmatics’, Blum concludes that none of these interpretive paradigms can ultimately do justice to the uniqueness and self-understanding reflected in the Old Testament history narratives themselves. The following two studies by Benjamin Wold and Loren Stuckenbruck illus-trate two ways the study of ‘memory’ may be brought to bear on the corpus of materials preserved among the Dead Sea documents. Wold’s contribution, enti-tled ‘Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos’, at first provides an overview of the use of the root zkr in the Dead Sea Scrolls, before paying attention to two major biblical themes with which this language is asso-ciated in the materials: exodus, on the one hand, and creation and cosmos, on the other. With regard to the former, Wold finds among the different sources a reinter-pretation of the exodus tradition along the lines of ‘exile’, with the result that its ‘memory’ is placed in service of the interpreting community’s self-definition. The matter of creation and cosmology is of another sort, as the subject-matter in the texts is only rendered accessible through a process of divine disclosure. The crea-tion of the existing cosmic order has occurred in the past, yet remains concealed; memory language, therefore, is applied by writers who focus on the possibility of seeking such revealed knowledge and drawing inferences from it for an under-standing of existence within the created order. The contribution by Stuckenbruck is entitled ‘The Teacher of Righteousness Remembered: From Fragmentary Sources to Collective Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls’. Unlike the essay by Wold, this study does not take the language of mem-ory itself as a point of departure, but rather focuses on remembrance as a proc-ess that shapes a community’s self-understanding as it considers its past. A prime example of this, he argues, may be found in explicit statements among the Dead Sea Scrolls about the ‘Teacher of Righteousness’. Whereas most studies have been primarily concerned with the historical events that may be reconstructed from those texts that refer to the Teacher, Stuckenbruck emphasizes how little can actu-ally be known about him on the basis of these texts and proposes that statements about the Teacher are important in what they tell us about those who are remem-bering him in this or that way. Texts that ‘remember’ the Teacher of Righteous-ness, therefore, need to be taken seriously as attempts to interpret the situations being faced by the later community which understandings its activities as contin-uous with those of their leader. The next three essays, which also consider ancient Jewish traditions, focus on the way traditions are remembered in other documents composed in three suc-cessive centuries: 1 and 2 Maccabees from the 2nd century BCE (Hermann Lich-tenberger), Psalms of Solomon from the 1st century BCE (William Horbury) and Josephus’ Contra Apionem from the end of the 1st century CE (John Barclay). Lichtenberger devotes his contribution to ‘History-writing and History-telling in

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Introduction

First and Second Maccabees’. Though both works are known as history books, they remain very distinct. The author of 2 Maccabees expressly rejects the claim that he is a historian; instead of relying on any eye-witness testimony, he presents himself as the epitomator of the much longer work of a certain Jason of Cyrene. The author of 1 Maccabees is, on the other hand, a contemporary and perhaps for some parts of the story may even have been an eye-witness. Despite all the differ-ences in assumptions and strategy for remembering behind these books, it remains to be asked whether and in what way their respective narratives can nevertheless be understood as historical writings. Horbury’s essay focuses on ‘The Remembrance of God in the Psalms of Solo-mon’ composed during the 1st century BCE By thoroughly comparing the memory of God and of God’s merciful acts in Psalms of Solomon with biblical tradition, on the one hand, and with Greek philosophical religion, on the other, Horbury finds therein an important tradition of Jewish piety that expressed itself along liturgi-cal and ascetic lines. As such, Psalms of Solomon anticipates a development in piety that is picked up not only in the New Testament but also later in Christian monasticism. The contribution by Barclay on ‘Memory Politics: Josephus on Jews in the Memory of the Greeks’, begins with the premise that in the ancient world, claims to antiquity – which were a means of validating the tradition of a culture or reli-gion – relied on sources which could ‘remember’ the foundational past. Barclay then focuses on the way Josephus, in his Contra Apionem, went about establish-ing an honourable memory of the Jews within the ancient world, even though the most famous Greek historians had not thought the Jews worthy of mention in their works. Drawing on Edward Said’s criticism of ‘Orientalism’ and on some postcolonial studies in its wake, Barclay finds that Josephus questions the authority of Greek historiography and provides superior witnesses to the Jews from other nations. In doing the latter, Josephus gathers every last scrap of Greek ‘memory’ (e.g. Clearchus) however ‘orientalist’ it proves to be. Like the preceding three essays, Mendels’ contribution, entitled ‘Societies of Memory in the Graeco-Roman World’, devotes some discussion to memory in Jewish literature composed during the Second Temple period. However, it does so in a more wide-ranging way that focuses on the phenomenology of memory. By drawing on numerous examples from classical antiquity (e.g. Sparta, Athens, Plato), Ptolemaic Egypt, early Jewish writings (1 Maccabees) and early Chris-tian sources (the Gospels), Mendels argues that there is a correlation between the nature of a society in antiquity and the nature of the memories of the past that they produce. Conditioned and shaped by media (e.g. theatre, inscriptions, his-toriography) and through time, some memories endured in a process that could re-express inherited traditions while, at the same time, ensuring that other mem-ories would be lost. The remaining essays in the volume centre around themes and traditions pre-served for us in the New Testament: the Jesus tradition (Le Donne, Dunn), Luke-

Introduction

5

Acts (Hengel, Schwemer, Mittmann-Richert), the Gospel of John (Eckstein), the Pauline corpus (Barton) and the impact of New Testament tradition on Early Christianity (Bockmuehl). In his essay entitled ‘Theological Memory Distortion in the Jesus Tradition’, Le Donne brings ‘Social Memory Theory’ associated with sociologist Maurice Halbwachs to bear on our interpretation of the Jesus tradition in the Synoptic Gos-pels. Noting that philosophers of history have been adapting this perspective from the field of sociology, Le Donne evaluates the much used expression ‘memory distortion’. While this expression has been placed in service of those who ques-tion the reliability of memory (on which history is based), Le Donne argues that memory, as a fluid and interpretive process, not only ‘distorts’ but also preserves tradition. Rather than simply obstructing the preservation of tradition, memory distortion (when properly understood), which recognises that theological inter-pretation can and should be expected at the earliest stages of Jesus tradition, has the potential to assist the historian in the reconstruction of historical data that per-tains to Jesus. Dunn’s discussion of memory complements Le Donne’s essay by focussing specifically on ‘Social Memory and the Oral Jesus Tradition’. Whereas the study of ‘collective’ or ‘social memory’ has stressed the passing on of tradition as a cre-ative process, Dunn – without wishing to deny this emphasis – stresses the reten-tive role of memory. He identifies and examines a number of factors that would have given stability to that which is remembered: the initialization of memory in Jesus’ teaching, the impact and impression made by Jesus as tradition took nar-rative form, the memory of tradition in a community context, and the perform-ance of oral tradition. As the first of three studies based on Luke-Acts, the contribution by Hengel on ‘Der Lukasprolog und seine Augenzeugen: Die Apostel, Petrus und die Frauen’ offers a fresh discussion of memory that takes statements in the prologue of Luke’s Gospel as a point of departure. The two-fold address to Theophilus at the beginning, respectively, of the Gospel and Acts, is bound up with Luke’s attend-ant claims that he is providing reliable testimony about recent events pertaining to Jesus and the early church. Here the eye- and ear-witness of ‘the twelve disci-ples’ (with that of Peter given decisive prominence), supported by the testimony of the apostle Paul with whom Luke was personally acquainted, not only estab-lishes the trustworthiness of the received tradition but also guarantees that it pos-sesses an essential coherence that shapes and inspires unity in the church. By contrast, the essay by Mittmann-Richert on ‘Erinnerung und Heilserkenntnis im Lukasevangelium’ addresses the theological dimension of memory and remembrance in Luke’s Gospel. In several key passages of the Gospel that relate to the ἀνάμνησις of Jesus, Luke raises the human act of remembering to a new level: the transfiguration narrative (Lk. 9:28–36), the Emmaus story (24:13–35) and the words of institution at the Last Supper (22:19–20). The transfiguration, read against the backdrop of the revelation at Sinai, presents Jesus as the person

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Introduction

in whom God’s word is being disclosed. This fundamental disclosure explains why the disciples’ remembrance of Jesus’ word at Emmaus makes it possible for them to recognise who he is. This, in turn, is reminiscent of the Last Supper epi-sode, during which Jesus’ word, ‘in memory of me’, is itself an act of self-rev-elation that transforms human memory into an act of recognition that is essen-tial to salvation. Entitled ‘Erinnerung und Legende: Die Berufung des Paulus und ihre Darstel-lung in der Apostelgeschichte’, Schwemer’s contribution focuses on another aspect of memory with which Luke was concerned: the three reports of Paul’s conversion and call in Acts 9:1–19a, 22:3–21 and 26:9–20. Whereas these pas-sages as a whole underline the significance of Paul’s life for Luke’s account of early Christianity, they vary in detail and reflect different memories. Schwemer argues that such smaller contradictions pose no problem for Luke; they simply derive from oral traditions that preserved the memories of different people who were present at the event. Indeed, Luke avoids saying what other ancient histo-riographers were known to do when confronted by different memories of the same occasion: ‘one says this, the other says that’. In particular, it is the last of the three reports of Paul’s experience (ch. 26) that reflects the proximity of Luke himself to the apostle and may therefore be compared with Paul’s own account of his call in Galatians 1. The study by Eckstein on ‘Das Johannesevangelium als Erinnerung an die Zukunft der Vergangenheit’ brings the subject of this volume to bear on the Gos-pel according to John, a work which addresses the present of the audience as a future which is the subject of remembering. According to the Gospel, after Jesus’ return to the heavenly Father, the task of the Paraclete shall be (a) ‘to teach and bring to remembrance everything that Jesus has said’ to the community of his fol-lowers and (b) to proclaim to them that which still lies in the future. The Fourth Evangelist wishes to encourage a community in the midst of their difficulties and persecution and to strengthen their faith. However, he does not choose to com-municate this by means of a either a ‘letter’ (which assumes the contemporaneity between author and recipients) or an ‘apocalypse’ (which focuses on that which is yet to come). By adopting the form of a ‘gospel’, he takes the past and founda-tion story of faith and retells it in a contemporary way in order to provide guid-ance about the future. Barton’s essay on ‘Memory and Remembrance in Paul’ opens up a fascinat-ing and relatively unexplored topic: the role of acts of remembrance in Paul’s gospel, apostolic self-understanding and ecclesiology. Beginning with accounts of memory and remembrance both in the Graeco-Roman world and in the Bible and Early Judaism, Barton shows how, in various ways, recalling the past was a strategic resource for shaping the present and imagining the future. With respect to Paul, Barton draws attention to the remarkable impact of Paul’s apocalyptic (‘new creation’) epistemology on his sense of time and its representation. He then explores the significance of what Paul says about prayer, almsgiving, the Lord’s

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Supper, and his own autobiography as aspects of what, for Paul, really matters for the Christian believer’s common life lived in time and over time. The final contribution in the volume is by Bockmuehl and is entitled ‘New Tes-tament Wirkungsgeschichte and the Early Christian Appeal to Living Memory’. Reasoning sensitively through the epistemological problematic of talking about ‘history’ in the contemporary setting of postmodernity, Bockmuehl argues that the living memory of eyewitnesses from the time of Jesus and the apostles played a significant role in shaping Christian faith and history during the first two centu-ries CE. Rather than imposing anachronistic, postmodern understandings of mem-ory which are more likely to be concerned with struggles to achieve or undermine power, he proposes that scholarship focus on how testimony that was shaped by ongoing oral tradition functioned in early Christianity. In doing so, he concludes that the living memory passed down from first-hand testimony of notable indi-viduals not only made access to the formative past possible but also authenticated the early Christians’ collective and social memory. Many people deserve our thanks for making the symposium and this volume possible. The funding was provided through the Department of Theology and Religion at Durham University, and for this we are especially grateful to Profes-sor Douglas Davies who was Head of Department at that time. Along with other colleagues in the Department – in particular Dr. Stuart Weeks and Professor Rob-ert Hayward – he extended warm hospitality that enhanced the proceedings of the symposium. In addition, we would like to thank members of the postgradu-ate community of the Department who not only attended many of the sessions but also assisted in the organisation of conference details. In this respect, Naomi Jacobs is especially to be mentioned. Further thanks are due to the Rt. Rev. Tom Wright, Bishop of Durham, for receiving colleagues and guests at a memora-ble visit to Auckland Castle. Finally, we would like to thank Professor Jörg Frey, chief editor of the WUNT series, and Dr. Henning Ziebritzki of the Mohr Sie-beck publishing house in Tübingen. We are indebted to them for their unfailing encouragement, willingness to take up editors’ ideas, and help in bringing this book to publication. 11 September 2006

Stephen C. Barton Loren T. Stuckenbruck Benjamin G. Wold

The Living Word Engraved in Stone The Interrelationship of the Oral and the Written and the Culture of Memory in the Books of Deuteronomy and Joshua Joachim Schaper

I. Introduction “Most ingenious Theuth, one man has the ability to beget arts, but the ability to judge of their usefulness or harmfulness to their users belongs to another; and now you, who are the father of letters, have been led by your affection to ascribe to them a power the opposite of that which they really possess. For this inven-tion will produce forgetfulness in the minds of those who learn to use it, because they will not practise their memory. Their trust in writing, produced by external characters which are no part of themselves, will discourage the use of their own memory within them.” This is how the Egyptian king Thamus addresses the god Thoth, the inventor of writing, in a statement ascribed to Socrates in Plato’s Phaedrus, § 275a. Where there is writing, there will be no proper exercise of memory, and what there is, will be external to the person. As Thamus goes on to say, “You have invented an elixir not of memory, but of reminding; and you offer your pupils the appearance of wisdom, not true wisdom.”1 Writing and memory are thus pro-nounced to be at odds with each other; indeed, where writing is practised, it is claimed, there will be no true wisdom. The link between writing and memory (or lack thereof): this is what I would like to explore in this paper, with reference to two biblical books in which writing and memory play a very considerable role. I claim that in Deuteronomy and Joshua we have foundational texts of the culture of memory which is so significant of Judaism. I will explore them with a view to the wider context of the “orality and literacy” debate generated by the work of M. Parry2 and A. Lord,3 and taken further by E. A. Havelock4 and others. In that debate, some scholars concentrated their attention especially on the uses of writ--

1

H. N. Fowler (ed.), Plato in Twelve Volumes, I, p. 563. Cf. M. Parry, Making. 3 Cf. A. Lord, Singer. 4 Cf. E. A. Havelock, Preface, id., Prologue, id., Muse, and especially id., Literate Revolu-tion, and, on Havelock’s approach, A. and J. Assmann, “Schrift – Kognition – Evolution”. 2

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Joachim Schaper

ing in society. One thinks here especially of J. Goody,5 I. Watt,6 and W. J. Ong.7 Their views are often subsumed under the umbrella term “literacy hypothesis”. And although their approaches are quite different in detail, they are united in their endeavour to explore the “logic of writing”, to quote the title of one of Goody’s books, and the impact of that logic on religion and society.8 Against the background of this discourse, I shall try to delineate how the problem of the “logic of writing and the organization of society” is related to writing and memory as exemplified in Deuteronomy and Joshua. Referring to memory, I have in mind both memory as a mental faculty and memory in the sense of remembrance. Obviously, memory in the latter sense is what is at the centre of our attention at this meeting. However, memory in the sense of remembrance obviously cannot be separated from mem-ory as a mental faculty, and both are intimately and inextricably linked with the technology of writing and the effect it has on the formation of society. Let us first pay attention to memory as a mental activity and writing. Of course, memory plays an incredibly important role even – indeed, especially – where there is no writing. Memory is central to the way primary oral societies work. But that is not relevant to the present paper since ancient Israel, through-out its entire history – as far as we can claim to know it –, was a literate society, in the sense that there always were certain segments of that society that had at least some knowledge of writing. From its earliest days on the stage of history, ancient Israel never was a primary oral society. Thus, in the study of the history of Israelite religion, we have to take into account that “memory” in ancient Israel should always be thought of in the context of a literate society. This is not a trivial statement, since the way memory operates in a primary oral society is very dif-ferent from the way it works in a literate society. Probably the main difference9 between primary oral societies and literate ones is the fact that, to quote W. J. Ong, “[b]y contrast with literate societies, oral societies can be characterized as homeostatic ... That is to say, oral societies live very much in a present which keeps itself in equilibrium or homeostasis by sloughing off memories which no longer have present relevance.”10 By the same token, in a primary oral society, verbatim repetition of texts is well nigh impossible,11 as social anthropological research has demonstrated over and over again. By contrast, where you have writ-ten texts, the fixity of the texts makes it possible to revisit them and check up on the precision or lack thereof of a recitation based on those texts. Thus a “gap 5 Cf., amongst many other publications, J. Goody and I. Watt, “Consequences”, J. Goody, Logic, and id., Power. 6 Cf. J. Goody and I. Watt, “Consequences”. 7 Cf. W. J. Ong, Orality and Literacy. 8 Cf. J. Goody, Logic, esp. pp. 1-44 and pp. 87–126. 9 For a list of the distinctive “characteristics of orally based thought and expression”, cf. W. J. Ong, Orality, pp. 36–57. 10 W. J. Ong, Orality, p. 46. 11 Cf. most recently J. Goody, “Objections”, pp. 13–15.

The Living Word Engraved in Stone

11

(...) develops between practice and precept in authoritative utterance, where, for example, current moral norms or current social relations have undergone changes subsequent to the book having been written”.12 Writing thus provides an immu-table framework of reference for memory, be it individual or communal,13 be it for juridical purposes or for religious ones. I shall concentrate on the increasing significance of writing from the seventh century B.C.E. onwards and how it is related to memory as a force of religious life in Judaean society immediately before, during and after the Babylonian Exile. Deuteronomy and Joshua are at the centre of my attention. We shall see that, in these two books, writing is considered foundational to the formation of Israel, its entry into the land, and its continued existence. The key to the understanding of this problem is provided by the proper interpretation of the link between writing and memory informing said books. I shall attempt to show that a literary read-ing of Deuteronomy and Joshua which is not dismissive of historical criticism and integrates insights won by social anthropologists can thus shed new light on the history of the Israelite religion in the seventh, sixth, and fifth centuries. How-ever, a literary reading can contribute not just to a deepened historical understand-ing of the text, but also, and especially, to a fuller appreciation of its theological dimension. As R. Morgan and J. Barton have pointed out, there is “the theologi-cal necessity of a more literary approach to the Bible”.14

II. Literary and Exegetical Observations Let us first look at Deuteronomy. The book contains Moses’ farewell discourse, and the discourse unfolds “within a unity of time” – Moses’ last day – “and within a unity of space (Moses is near the Jordan River he will not cross)”.15 The dis-course consists of four speech units,16 introduced by the superscriptions17 in Deut. 1:1, 4:44–45, 28:69, and 33:1. There is a whole sequence of incidents of writing in Deuteronomy which is set in motion by the writing activities of YHWH and actually extends beyond the borders of Deuteronomy, well into the book of Joshua. The act of writing is intro-duced in the first of the four units: in Deut. 4:13, Moses recollects God’s having 12

J. Goody, “Objections”, p. 15. Cf. J. Assmann, Das kulturelle Gedächtnis, passim. 14 R. Morgan with J. Barton, Biblical Interpretation, p. 214. R. Polzin, Moses, D. T. Olson, Deuteronomy, J.-P. Sonnet, Book, and H. Najman, Seconding Sinai have admirably demon-strated how a literary reading of Deuteronomy can provide us with invaluable insights into its theological meaning. 15 J.-P. Sonnet, Book, p. 34. 16 Cf. J.-P. Sonnet, Book, pp. 17–9, building on P. Kleinert, Deuteronomium, pp. 166–7. 17 Cf. N. Lohfink, “Deuteronomium”, pp. 15–6. 13

12

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revealed and put into writing the Ten Words of the covenant. In the second unit, writing is mentioned several times: in Deut. 5:22, the Israelites are reminded of God’s inscribing the Ten Commandments on stone tablets. They are then encour-aged to write down the divine words privately and publicly and put them to mem-ory (Deut. 6:6–9). After Moses has destroyed the tablets on account of the Israel-ites’ rebellion, God once again inscribes the Ten Commandments on stone tablets (Deut. 10:4). Later, the king is ordered to have a copy of “this Torah” produced for his own use (Deut. 17:18). Also, a divine decree is issued asking the Israelites to inscribe “all the words of this Torah” on the stones to be erected on Mount Ebal on the day of the Jordan crossing (Deut. 27:2–4). In the third speech unit, writ-ing occurs with reference to the covenant document (‫ַה ְבּרִית ַהכְּתוּבָה ְבּ ֵספֶר הַתּוֹרָה‬ ‫ ַהזֶּה‬, Deut. 29:20; cf. 29:26 and 30:10). In the fourth and last speech unit writing is not mentioned. Deut. 31–32 is different. These chapters do not belong to any of the speech units. In Deut. 31:1 the main narrator18 – who, during Moses’ discourses, had been in the background – surfaces. Deut. 31 and 32 are narrative in character – with the Song of Moses embedded in ch. 32 –, but they are not at odds with the rest of the book and the speeches it reports. Rather, they should be considered as the culmination point of the preceding speeches, at the same time constituting the bridge towards the book of Joshua. As Sonnet aptly points out, “The two ini-tiatives told in Deuteronomy 31 – the public designation of Joshua as the ‘cross-ing’ leader and the writing down of the Torah ‘book’ – are teleologically related insofar as they make possible the passage of both the people and the ‘words of the Torah’ into the land, and their reunion in the land.”19 The land is kept in view, as becomes especially clear from Deut. 31:12–13: “Assemble the people, men, women, and little ones, and the sojourner within your towns, that they may hear and learn to fear the LORD your God, and be careful to do all the words of this law, and that their children, who have not known it, may hear and learn to fear the LORD your God, as long as you live in the land which you are going over the Jor-dan to possess.” (RSV) As H. Najman has pointed out, we have here, as in Deut. 5:3, an “explicit reenactment of the Sinai event”.20 She also sees Deut. 31:28–30 as such a reenactment.21 Deut. 31–32 records the recording of the Torah; the teachings uttered orally are now being fixed in writing by Moses himself. In Deut. 31–32, there is a cluster of instances of writing: Moses writes down “this Torah” (‫אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה הַזֺּאת‬, Deut. 31:9, cf. v. 22) and hands over the copy thus produced to “the priests, the sons of Levi” (Deut 31:9; cf. vv. 24–26). Also, God reveals a song to Moses which fore-tells Israel’s future and which Moses must put in writing (Deut. 31:19). Writing 18 19 20 21

J.-P. Sonnet, Book, p. 121. J.-P. Sonnet, Book, p. 227. H. Najman, Seconding Sinai, p. 32. Cf. H. Najman, Seconding Sinai, p. 33.

The Living Word Engraved in Stone

13

is very much on the minds of the authors and redactors; it becomes a self-reflec-tive exercise: in Deut. 31, the process of writing down the Torah ‘book’ and the ‘song’ become topics of the book’s own narrative.22 Josh. 1:8–9 takes up the thread where it was left in Deut. 31. The Torah that has been fixed in writing can now be meditated upon: “This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth, but you shall meditate on it (‫)וְ ָהגִי ָת בּוֹ‬23 day and night, that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall have good success.” (RSV) Later, in Josh. 8:32, 34, Joshua writes the Torah upon the stones (of the altar; not on separate ones, as ordered in Deut. 27)24 and reads it to the people: “And there, in the presence of the people of Israel, he wrote upon the stones a copy of the law of Moses, which he had written. (...) And afterward he read all the words of the law, the blessing and the curse, according to all that is writ-ten in the book of the law.” (RSV) Joshua thus follows the order given in Deut. 31:11 by Moses to the priests and to all the elders of Israel: “(...) when all Israel comes to appear before the LORD your God at the place which he will choose, you shall read this law before all Israel in their hearing.” It should be noted that once again we have “an explicit reenactment of the Sinai event”.25 Such reen-actments are obviously intended to keep the Israelites from transgressing the Torah. How they work becomes obvious from Deut 31:11 in conjunction with the following two verses: “this Torah” is to be read out “before all Israel”. It is the written Torah that is the basis for the whole educational process that fol-lows, constituted of “hearing” and “learning to fear” God, and “to be careful to do all the words of this law”. The children, who are explicitly mentioned, are supposed to do the same. Apart from its obvious link with Deut. 31:11, Josh. 8:32 is also linked to – and partly takes up the precise wording of – Deut. 17:18:

‫ְשׁבְתּוֹ עַל ִכּסֵּא ַמ ְמ ַלכְתּוֹ וְָכתַב לוֹ‬ ִ ‫וְ ָהיָה כ‬ ‫ִשׁנֵה הַתּוֹרָה הַזֺּאת עַל־ ֵספֶר ִמ ִלּ ְפנֵי הַכֲֺּהנִם ַה ְלוִיִּם׃‬ ְ ‫אֶת־מ‬ As Sonnet points out, “The duplicate (the word ‫ משׁנה‬derives from the root ‫שׁנה‬, ‘to repeat, to do again’) implicitly requires a standard copy, an editio princeps, from which the transcript is to be made.”26 Sonnet rightly sees Josh. 8:32 as making explicit the implication of Deut. 17:18,27 i.e. that such a standard copy is claimed to exist. This provides further support for the view that the concept of writing and 22

Cf. J.-P. Sonnet, Book, pp. 117–82. On ‫ הגה‬as a technical term for meditation in the Hebrew Bible and parallels in other cultures, cf. W. Graham, Beyond the Written Word, p. 134. 24 Cf. A. Rofé, Deuteronomy, p. 215. 25 Cf. above, n. 20. 26 J.-P. Sonnet, Book, p. 74. 27 J.-P. Sonnet, Book, p. 74, n. 96. 23

14

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of the necessity and authority of writtenness in a religious context very deeply permeates Deuteronomy and Joshua. What follows from a transgression of the written law is made explicit in Josh. 23:6–8 where we find the next reference to the written law of Moses: “Therefore be very steadfast to keep and do all that is written in the book of the law of Moses, turning aside from it neither to the right hand nor to the left, (7) that you may not be mixed with these nations left here among you, or make mention of the names of their gods, or swear by them, or serve them, or bow down yourselves to them, (8) but cleave to the LORD your God as you have done to this day.” (RSV) Cleav-ing to the LORD, or, more precisely: cleaving to his written law, is the only way of taking possession of the land, and of keeping it in possession. The book of Joshua also ends with a very significant act of writing. The covenant having been concluded, it says (Josh. 24): “So Joshua made a cov-enant with the people that day, and made statutes and ordinances for them at Shechem. (26) And Joshua wrote these words in the book of the law of God; and he took a great stone, and set it up there under the oak in the sanctuary of the LORD. (27) And Joshua said to all the people, ‘Behold, this stone shall be a witness against us; for it has heard all the words of the LORD which he spoke to us; therefore it shall be a witness against you, lest you deal falsely with your God.’” (RSV)

III. Writing, Orality, and Memory in Deuteronomy and Joshua As should have become obvious from our summary of Deuteronomy and Joshua, a sequence of acts of writing and acts of commemoration runs like a scarlet thread through the two books. Deut. 31:9 refers, in a self-referential and very subtle man-ner, to a ‘book’ or scroll, a ‫ספר‬, which is the foundational text supposed to be read to all Israel in every seventh year at the feast of tabernacles. Where do we find the ‫ ספר‬Deut. 31 refers to? As we have seen, in Deut. 31:9 Moses is said to have writ-ten down “this Torah” (‫אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה הַזֺּאת‬, Deut. 31:9, cf. v. 22) and to have handed it over to “the priests, the sons of Levi”. As Sonnet has very astutely observed with regard to the narrator’s use of “this Torah” in Deut 31:9, “The demonstrative ‘this’ is then used as an anaphoric, referring to a previous mention of ‘Torah’ in the text, or to a previous stretch of discourse representing ‘this Torah’. Backreference suggests that ‘this Torah (‫ ’)התורה הזאת‬is that which the reader perused within a definite part of the book of Deuteronomy, starting with 4:44, ‫וזאת התורה‬, ‘this is the Torah.’ The anaphoric phrase ‫‘ התורה הזאת‬this Torah,’ in 31:9 is thus presumably the counter-part of the cataphoric (i.e., forward-looking) one ‫וזאת התורה‬, ‘This is the Torah’ in 4:44 (the occurrence of ‘this Torah’ in 31:9 is the first use of the phrase by the narrator since 4:44). Whatever its exact extent, the Torah, now transcribed by Moses, is thus found between the two markers.” 28

The Living Word Engraved in Stone

15

The Torah thus demarcated is the one which is the basis of recitations, public readings, and private meditation referred to in the book of Joshua. As D. T. Olson points out, “Joshua did not lead as Moses did according to his own personal interpretation or meditation of God’s words. Rather, Joshua leads according to the Mosaic interpretation of God’s commands and words now recorded in the book of the torah (cf. Josh. 1:7–8). (...) Joshua is a legit-imate leader of Israel but not of the same stature as Moses.” Indeed, after the death of Moses, Joshua cannot really replace him. This is where Olson stops in his assessment. However, the new situation is more dramatic than that. In the book of Joshua, the role writing is accorded in Deuteronomy is taken to its logical conclusion. The central authority is now provided by the written Torah itself, by the Torah demarcated by Deut. 4:44 and 31:9 respectively. Its function is more significant than even Sonnet allows for since it is that writ-ten Torah which becomes the real new leader of the people of Israel on its way into the land (Josh. 1:7–8): 28 “Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law which Moses my servant commanded you; turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go. This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall have good success.” (RSV)

This passage takes up Deut. 6:6–8, Deut. 11:18–20, and Deut. 30:11–14 and again exhorts the Israelites to meditate on the Torah, on the basis of ‫ ֵספֶר הַתּוֹרָה ַהזֶּה‬, as it says in Josh. 1:8, referring to Deut. 4:44 and 31:9. It makes it absolutely clear that the meditation is to be based on the written Torah as demarcated by these two markers. In fact, it stresses it twice (‫ ֵספֶר הַתּוֹרָה ַהזֶּה‬, ‫) ְכּכָל־ ַהכָּתוּב בּוּ‬. As far as Deu-teronomy and Joshua are concerned, the written record is at the heart of the reli-gious life and thus at the heart of the whole of Israelite existence. However, the written record as such remains dead. Quite literally, life has to be breathed into it to make it work. It is the practice of memory, utilising public recitations and readings and meditative techniques for individual practice, which thus breathes life into the texts. Textuality, in ancient Israel and Judah, cannot do without orality. Only in the modern world, with the advent of the printing press, did we reach a point where we can do altogether without a re-oralisation of the written, and even this is true only under certain closely prescribed circumstances. Goody, one of the main propagators of the ‘literacy hypothesis’, is fully aware of this. He stresses that “orality remains a dominant form of human interaction, although itself modified in various ways by the addition of new means and modes

28

J.-P. Sonnet, Book, pp. 248–9.

16

Joachim Schaper

of communication”.29 Of course, this was especially true of ancient societies, with their strong residual orality. Ancient Judah was no exception. Deuteronomy and Joshua provide us with numerous references to the written Torah being brought to life through recitation, meditative murmuring30 and public readings. It was through these devices that the continuous practice of memory was ensured. And it was through the continuous practice of memory that individual and societal survival was ensured. This brings me to the last part of my paper.

IV. Writing, memory, and death: anthropological and theological considerations As Derrida has famously pointed out, “All graphemes are of a testamentary essence.”31 He also demonstrates, in his Grammatology, that the close link between writing and death is particularly obvious in the society of ancient Egypt and the literature it produced: it is not without a reason that Thoth is also the ferryman of the dead and the scribe at the last judgement. Likewise Assmann has stressed, in an essay on the “grave as the prep school of literature in ancient Egypt”, how the beginnings of literature in Egyptian culture are inspired by the “perspective of death” – the “testamentary character” of written records, he points out, is typical not just of historical, but also of sapiential discourse.32 In a recent essay on death as a topic of cultural theory, which deals with images and rites of death in ancient Egypt, Assmann points out what the grave and the book have in common in ancient Egyptian culture. He concludes: “However, the 29 J. Goody, “Objections”, p. 2. Cf. E. Ben Zvi, “Introduction”, p. 23: “It is worth noting that the present discussion clearly leads to an image of ‘restricted, high literacy’ and ‘general oral-ity’ as two deeply interwoven social phenomena. Within the proposed historical matrix, one does not and cannot take over and replace the other; rather, they complement (and sustain) each other. Moreover, literacy here does not lead to the development of (objective) history as opposed to (communal) myth, nor necessarily to detachment, distance, or analytic thinking. This being so, one may ask how the already mentioned traits of ancient Israelite literacy relate to other features of literacy in other cultures, and what the identification of these traits can con-tribute to current studies of literacy/ies.” Also cf. W. J. Ong, Orality, p. 26. 30 Cf. G. Fischer and N. Lohfink, “‘Diese Worte sollst du summen’”, passim. 31 J. Derrida, Grammatology, p. 69. 32 J. Assmann, “Schrift, Tod und Identität”, 88: “Schreiben heißt: auf Dauer stellen, bewah-ren, verewigen. In der biographischen Grabinschrift wird das Leben unter dem Gesichtspunkt der Resultativität aufzeichnungsfähig: als ‘ausgereifte Endgestalt’ und als die Geschichte ihres Gewordenseins. Es ist diese Perspektive, die Perspektive des Todes, die für den Ägypter, wie wir gesehen haben, Vergangenheit, Geschichte und Identität thematisierbar und aufzeichnungs-fähig macht. Diese Perspektive macht sich die literarische Erzählung zunutze, um die Aufzeich-nung zu motivieren. Bedarf es eines stärkeren Hinweises auf den durch und durch schriftlichen Charakter dieses Werkes? Der testamentarische Charakter der schriftlichen Aufzeichnung ent-spricht dem Wesen nicht nur des historischen, sondern auch des weisheitlichen Diskurses.” Cf. J. Assmann, Tod als Thema.

The Living Word Engraved in Stone

17

decisive common denominator between the grave and the book is constituted by the category of authorship. It does not seem to have parallels in other cultures. Where else does the owner of the grave (Grabherr) appear as the ‘author’ of his grave and of the life recorded thereon? Graves are erected by the bereaved, some-times on the basis of a long-term preparation and at the instigation of the deceased. But they can barely be understood as organs of a comprehensive linguistic and pictorial self-thematization. Herein lies the specific, ‘literary’ element of the mon-umental graves of Egypt.”33 I claim that the link between writing and death is as present in Deuteronomy and Joshua as it is in ancient Egyptian literature, albeit not as patently obvious. Indeed, it has received scant attention in Old Testament/Hebrew Bible scholar-ship.34 Let us therefore now have a look at writing and death – and at the way death is transcended through memory – in Deuteronomy and Joshua. Deuteronomy tells us that the location of the grave of Moses is not known. This is in paradoxical contrast with the fact that his ‫ ספר‬is – or will be – known every-where. Sonnet captures that when he writes: “The actual removal of Moses’ bur-ial place from public knowledge (34:6, ‘and no one knows’) is, analogically, the reverse of the actual publication of his Torah ‘book’ throughout time and space (31:8, ‘and their sons who have not known will hear’).”35 On the one hand, thus, death brings oblivion, but on the other hand, it makes room for a new, permanent life for Moses. It is a life in and through memory, memory firmly grounded in the immutability and permanence of the written record. Writing, in conjunction with the individual and public practice of memory, thus transcends the death of the individual leader. So, in a sense, there even is a parallel here with the ancient Egyptian situation, inasmuch as Moses’ ‫ספר‬, as it is described in the context of Deuteronomy’s fabula, surely is an “organ[ ] of a comprehensive linguistic ... selfthematization”.36 What the grave is to the deceased wealthy Egyptian, the ‫ ספר‬of Deuteronomy and Joshua – the “book within the book”,37 in Sonnet’s words – is to Moses. It immortalises him, it transcends his individual death. At the same time, it ensures the survival of the house of Israel. This becomes abundantly clear where the consequences of transgressing the Torah are laid out and where we have, both in Deuteronomy and Joshua, scenes that show the use of writing in religion in a group context. The most important of these scenes is found in Josh. 8:32–34. It enacts what the Israelites had been told to do in Deut. 27:4, 8. Why are they asked to engrave the ‫ֲשׁר ָכּתַב ִל ְפנֵי ְבּנֵי‬ ֶ ‫מֺשׁה א‬ ֶ ‫ִשׁנֵח הַתּוֹרַת‬ ְ‫מ‬ ‫ִשׂ ָראֵל‬ ְ ‫ י‬on the stones? And which text does ‫מֺשׁה‬ ֶ ‫ תּוֹרַת‬refer to? Let us start with the latter question. Clearly, the term refers the reader back to Deut. 31:9, where 33 34 35 36 37

Assmann, Tod, pp. 69–70 (my translation). Exceptions are D. T. Olson, Deuteronomy, R. Polzin, Moses, and J. P. Sonnet, Book. Sonnet, Book, p. 230. The second qoute is, in fact, found in Deut. 31:13. Cf. above, n. 33. The sub-title of Sonnet’s monograph.

18

Joachim Schaper

Moses writes in the presence of all Israel (not to Deut. 10:4, where the writing happens on the mountain, withdrawn from the people!). By the same token, it becomes clear that the Torah the addressees of Josh. 8:32 are meant to copy onto the stones is the text that reaches from Deut. 4:44 to Deut. 31:8. The act of writ-ing that text on the stones in the land is highly symbolical: it is the archetypal foundational Torah text, the “book with in the book”, that the Israelites are sup-posed to copy onto the stones. Why the stones? Stone as writing material in this context is symbolically sig-nificant. Of course, we know countless examples of inscriptions in stone in the ancient Mediterranean and the ancient Near East. But there is a specific signifi-cance to this. With regard to Greek inscriptions, R. Thomas points out that “The details of the inscriptions themselves, and the way Greek writers treat them, make it clear that they were often thought of primarily as symbolic memorials of a decision rather than simply documents intended to record important details for administrative purposes. It is striking that even fourth-century Athenian politicians may refer to a treaty or a decree of the Assembly in its stone form – not in the abstract, nor to the archive copy. Moreover, they seem to refer to the stone as if it actually were the treaty or decree. If the inscription is erected, the treaty is in force. To take down the stone would be to annul the treaty (…); if a decree is revoked, the public inscription must come down.”38

As Thomas further points out, “in one inscription we find the surprising idea that the oaths and the alliance should be inscribed on a stele ‘so that the oaths and alli-ance should be valid’ [as it says in a 4th cent. B.C. treaty; J. S.]. The public erec-tion of the inscription was part of the treaty. Attributing ‘symbolic significance’ can often be very vague, but we see here rather precisely how the inscription is a monument or memorial whose public presence and very existence guarantee the continuing force of the decision it records.”39 However, we still have not arrived at a full understanding of the significance of writing in stone in the books of Deuteronomy and Joshua. J. Assmann tries to do just that in an essay devoted to ancient Near Eastern curse inscriptions. He writes with regard to Josh. 24.25–27: “Zu Sichtbarkeit und Ewigkeit tritt als drittes Element des Monumentalen die Räumlich-keit und Ortsfestigkeit. Das Denkmal ist ein lieu de mémoire, ein Erinnerungsort. In die-ser Funktion kommt die Aufrichtung von Steinen im Buch Josua – dem Bericht der Land-nahme – ständig vor. Der Vorgang der Landnahme wird von Denkmalsetzungen begleitet. Die Besetzung des Landes vollzieht sich als ein Akt der Beschriftung zum Zwecke der Gedächtnis-Stiftung, der prospektiven memoria. Steine werden im Jordan sowie in Gilgal aufgerichtet zur Erinnerung an seine Durchquerung trockenen Fußes (Jos. 2).”40

38 39 40

R. Thomas, Orality and Literacy, pp. 84–5. R. Thomas, Orality and Literacy, p. 85. J. Assmann, “Altorientalische Fluchinschriften”, p. 240.

The Living Word Engraved in Stone

19

All of this is true, but it still does not reach the core of the problem. Of course the “stones” to be erected in the Land are intended to be lieux de mémoire, but they are more than that. As far as the historical “stones” which have inspired the author(s) of Joshua are concerned, Assmann compares their function to that of the Babylonian kudurru.41 This seems to me to be true with regard to “stones” in the book of Joshua wherever they occur as something like boundary markers; cf. Josh. 4.20–4. I am not so sure about the meaning of the stones in Josh. 8.30–2. Here they seem to me to indicate the presence of the god of Israel who, through his being present in the writing inscribed on the “stone” on Mt. Ebal (the high-est point in the territory that is being conquered!), fills the land of his people with his presence, thus taking possession of it for his people. And the stone in Josh. 24.25–7 is different yet again. It carries no writing, but at the same time seems, like the altar/stones in Joshua 8, to embody the immediate divine presence since it is called upon as the “witness” to the treaty. “Stones” in the books of Deuteronomy and of Joshua are, in some cases, mod-elled on the kudurru. In other cases, however, the concept of the mazzebah and related concepts come to the fore. We can still detect the old Israelite (and gen-eral Semitic) concept of the stone as altar, as the deity’s lieu de présence, to coin a phrase – or, as G. Beer beautifully put it many years ago, as the “likeness of the present deity” (Ebenbild der präsenten Gottheit).42 This very ancient concept of the deity’s presence seems to me to underlie Josh. 8:30–2. It is amalgamated with another concept of divine presence: presence in and through the written text. Through the written text of the law, the Israelites of Josh. 8:30–2 are linked back to the event of the law-giving and of YHWH’s inscribing the law as described in Deut. 4:13; 9:10; 10:2, 4. The inscription mentioned in Josh. 8:32–35 makes the Torah of Deut. 4:44– 31:8 publicly accessible, thus establishing the conditions for the Israelites’ life with their god and for their life in the land. And in order to hammer the mes-sage home, that same Torah is then read out in full in a public reading; cf. Josh. 8:34–35. The Torah is put in writing for every Israelite to see, inspect, and put into prac-tice because it alone will ensure the survival of Israel in the land. The written text 41 Cf. J. Assmann, “Altorientalische Fluchinschriften”, p. 240: “Am deutlichsten tritt das territoriale Element monumentaler Inschriftlichkeit in den mesopotamischen Grenzsteinen, den kudurru-Dokumenten hervor, die besonders häufig Fluchformeln enthalten. Zum monumen-talen Aspekt der Fluchinschrift gehört, was man ihren ‘demarkatorischen Charakter’ nennen könnte. Sie markiert eine Grenze. Auch die Grenze ist eine Art Vertrag, den zwei Nachbarn schließen. Die Stele kommemoriert also den Vertrag, indem sie die Grenze markiert. Zwischen Territorialität und Inschriftlichkeit besteht eine innere Beziehung. Die Inschrift ist das ortsfest gemachte Wort.” 42 G. Beer, Steinverehrung, p. 11: “Mit dem Kultstein deckt sich auf arabisch-israelitischem Gebiet die älteste Gestalt des Altars. Dann ist aber auch der altisraelitische Altar ursprünglich ein Idol oder Fetisch: das Ebenbild der präsenten Gottheit. Erst in einem weiteren Entwicklungssta-dium ist der israelitische Altar Gabetisch, Feuerherd und Räucherstätte geworden.”

20

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is the basis and the yardstick, its memorisation and recitation is ultimately tied to that master copy of the text, and the ultimate aim is the interiorisation of that text by every single Israelite man, woman, and child, as demanded in Deut. 6:6–8, for them to “take heed lest [they] forget the LORD, who brought [them] out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Deut. 6:12) – and in and through the written text, the God of Israel is present in the Land. In a sacramental man-ner, writing ensures divine presence.43

V. Historical and theological conclusions Never in its history had Israel been a primary oral society, i.e., a society entirely untouched by writing, as becomes clear from the existence of scribes in her midst from the earliest times.44 From the late pre-exilic period at the latest, however, with the rising importance of writing,45 Judah was a society that had been irreversibly transformed by the use of writing. The fact that “even in the passages at the liter-ate end of the continuum [there] are nuances of orality”,46 as S. Niditch stresses, does not contradict this observation. The continued existence of such nuances will not come as a surprise to adherents of Goody’s “literacy hypothesis”.47 However, the rising importance of writing, the “new means and modes of communication”48 irreversibly altered the character of Judaean religious thought because they had infiltrated the hearts and minds of its élite. It is in Deuteronomy and Joshua that we first get a glimpse of this cultural change. Since writing is a technology that “restructures consciousness”,49 as has been shown by Ong and others, the perception of YHWH was bound to change when writing became a key concept in the Judaean view of communication between the deity and human beings. Writing creates what David R. Olson calls an “autono-mous discourse”,50 a discourse that is not open to immediate criticism and inter-action with others. Since the text exists removed from its author, there is no way of refuting him or her directly. “The author might be challenged if only he or she could be reached, but the author cannot be reached in any book.”51 By the same token, God, in Deuteronomy and Joshua, by producing the text removes himself

43 I shall draw out the consequences of this insight in my monograph Writing as Sacrament: The Textualisation of Religion in Ancient Judah, to be published soon. 44 Cf. Judg. 5:14 and M. H. Floyd, “‘Write the revelation!’”, pp. 133–4. 45 Cf. J. Renz, “Beitrag”, and J. Renz and W. Röllig, Handbuch. 46 S. Niditch, Oral World, p. 98. 47 Cf. above, n. 29. 48 Cf. above, n. 29. 49 W. J. Ong, Orality and Literacy, p. 78. 50 Cf. D. R. Olson, “Language and Authority”. 51 W. J. Ong, Orality and Literacy, p. 79.

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from immediate discourse and, asserting his divinity and his aloofness more than ever before, creates an “autonomous discourse”.52 That autonomous discourse is the matrix from which the concept of scriptural exegesis was to grow. At the time when the Deuteronomistic History came into existence and writing became the object of self-reflective discourse, Judaean soci-ety also witnessed the beginnings of a highly sophisticated textual hermeneutics that was to change Judaean religion forever. J. Kugel points out that “something of the growing independent life of texts may perhaps be glimpsed even among writ-ings that preceded the Return”,53 an observation that is particularly true of legal texts, as Kugel points out and as has since been brilliantly demonstrated by B. M. Levinson.54 As I think I have been able to show in this paper, Deuteronomy and Joshua provide some fine examples to support Kugel’s thesis. Not just with regard to the hermeneutics of legal texts had late pre-exilic and exilic writers reached an amazing degree of sophistication, but also with regard to the subtle interweaving of the written and the oral, of the text and its memorisation, of the written revela-tion and its promulgation. Autonomous discourse in religion makes it possible for human beings to inte-riorise the divine will and leaves more “space” for them to execute that will. Writ-ing provides the textual basis for individual meditation, for recitation, for public readings. It helped to establish a clear and omnipresent practice of memory that permeated the whole of Israelite life. That practice of memory was, and is to this day, firmly grounded in the written revelation. It is indeed the case that “every grapheme is essentially testamentary”. Paradoxically, however, writing transcends death insofar and inasmuch as it constitutes the practice of memory and ensures the divine presence.

List of Works Cited Assmann, J., “Altorientalische Fluchinschriften und das Problem performativer Schriftlich-keit”, in: H. U. Gumbrecht and K. L. Pfeiffer (eds.), Schrift (Materialität der Zeichen A 12), Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1993, pp. 233–255. – Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung und politische Identität in frühen Hoch-kulturen (C. H. Beck Kulturwissenschaft), Munich: C. H. Beck, 1992. – “Schrift, Tod und Identität: Das Grab als Vorschule der Literatur im alten Ägypten”, in: A. Assmann, J. Assmann and Chr. Hardmeier (eds.), Schrift und Gedächtnis: Bei-träge zur Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation, Munich: Wilhelm Fink Ver-lag, 21993, pp. 64–93.

52 53 54

Cf. above, n. 50. J. L. Kugel, “Early Interpretation”, p. 17. B. M. Levinson, Deuteronomy, passim.

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– “Der Tod als Thema der Kulturtheorie: Todesbilder und Totenriten im Alten Ägypten”, in: J. Assmann, Der Tod als Thema der Kulturtheorie: Todesbilder und Totenriten im Alten Ägypten. Mit einem Beitrag von Thomas Macho[:] Tod und Trauer im kultur-wissenschaftlichen Vergleich. Mit zahlreichen Abbildungen (edition suhrkamp 2157), Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 2000, pp. 9-87. Assmann, A. and J., “Schrift – Kognition – Evolution: Eric A. Havelock und die Technolo-gie kultureller Kommunikation”, in: Eric A. Havelock, Schriftlichkeit: Das griechische Alphabet als kulturelle Revolution, Weinheim: VCH Acta Humaniora, 1990, pp. 1-35. Beer, G., Steinverehrung bei den Israeliten: Ein Beitrag zur semitischen und allgemeinen Religionsgeschichte, Berlin and Leipzig: de Gruyter, 1921. Ben Zvi, E. and M. H. Floyd (eds.), Writings and Speech in Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy (SBL Symposium Series 10), Atlanta, Georgia: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Ben Zvi, E., “Introduction: Writings, Speeches, and the Prophetic Books – Setting an Agenda”, in: E. Ben Zvi and M. H. Floyd (eds.), Writings and Speech, pp. 1-29. Derrida, J., Of Grammatology, trans. G. C. Spivak, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976. Fischer, G. and N. Lohfink, “‘Diese Worte sollst du summen’: Dtn wedibbartā bām – ein verlorener Schlüssel zur meditativen Kultur in Israel”, in: N. Lohfink, Studien zum Deuteronomium und zur deuteronomistischen Literatur III (Stuttgarter Biblische Auf-satzbände 20), Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk GmbH, 1995, pp. 181–203 (= Theologie und Philosophie 62 [1987], pp. 59–72). Floyd, M.H., “‘Write the revelation!’ (Hab 2:2): Re-imagining the Cultural History of Prophecy”, in: E. Ben Zvi and M. H. Floyd (eds.), Writings and Speech, pp. 103–143. H. N. Fowler (ed.), Plato in Twelve Volumes, I: Eutyphro, Apology, Crito, Phaedo, Phaed-rus, London: W. Heinemann, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1914 (repr. 1982). Goody, J. (ed.), Literacy in Traditional Societies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968. – The Logic of Writing and the Organization of Society (Studies in Literacy, Family, Cul-ture and the State), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. – The Power of the Written Tradition, Washington and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2000. – “Objections and Refutations”, in: id., The Power of the Written Tradition, pp. 1-25. – “Technologies of the Intellect: Writing and the Written Word”, in: id., The Power of the Written Tradition, pp. 132–51. Goody, J. and I. Watt, “The Consequences of Literacy”, in: J. Goody (ed.), Literacy in Tra-ditional Societies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968, pp. 27–68 (= Com-parative Studies in Society and History 5 [1963], pp. 304–45). Graham, W.A., Beyond the Written Word: Oral Aspects of Scripture in the History of Reli-gion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Havelock, E.A., Preface to Plato, Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, Harvard University Press, 1963. – Prologue to Greek Literacy, Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati, 1971. – The Literate Revolution in Greece and Its Cultural Consequences, Princeton, NJ: Prin-ceton University Press, 1982. – The Muse Learns to Write: Reflections on Orality and Literacy from Antiquity to the Present, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986.

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Kleinert, P., Das Deuteronomium und der Deuteronomiker: Untersuchungen zur alttesta-mentlichen Rechts- und Literaturgeschichte, Bielefeld and Leipzig: Velhagen & Klasing, 1872. Kugel, J.L., “Early Interpretation: The Common Background of Late Forms of Biblical Exe-gesis”, in: idem and R. A Greer, Early Biblical Interpretation (Library of Early Chris-tianity), Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986, pp. 13–72. Levinson, B.M., Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Lohfink, N., “Das Deuteronomium”, in: idem, Studien zum Deuteronomium und zur deu-teronomistischen Literatur II (Stuttgarter Biblische Aufsatzbände 12), Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk GmbH, 1991, pp. 15–24. Lord, A.B., The Singer of Tales (Harvard Studies in Comparative Literature 24), ed. S. Mitchell and G. Nagy, Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: Harvard University Press, 22000. Morgan, R. with J. Barton, Biblical Interpretation (Oxford Bible Series), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988. Najman, H., Seconding Sinai: The Development of Mosaic Discourse in Second Temple Judaism (JSJS 77), Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2003. Niditch, S., Oral World and Written Word (Library of Ancient Israel), Louisville, KY: West-minster John Knox, 1996. Olson, D.R., “On the Language and Authority of Textbooks”, in: Journal of Communica-tion 30 (1980), pp. 186–96. Olson, D.T., Deuteronomy and the Death of Moses: A Theological Reading (Overtures to Biblical Theology), Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994. Ong, W.J., Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, New York: Methuen, 1982 (repr. London and New York: Routledge, 2002). Parry, M., The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry, ed. A. Parry, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971. Polzin, R., Moses and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History. Part One: Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, New York: The Seabury Press, 1980. Renz, J., “Der Beitrag der althebräischen Epigraphik zur Exegese des Alten Testaments und zur Profan- und Religionsgeschichte Palästinas: Leistung und Grenzen, aufgezeigt am Beispiel der Inschriften des (ausgehenden) 7. Jahrhunderts vor Christus”, in: C. Hard-meier (ed.), Steine – Bilder – Texte: Historische Evidenz außerbiblischer und biblischer Quellen (ABG 5), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2001, pp. 123–158. Renz, J. and W. Röllig, Handbuch der althebräischen Epigraphik, 3 vols., Darmstadt: Wis-senschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1995–2003. Rofé, A., Deuteronomy: Issues and Interpretation (Old Testament Studies), London and New York: T & T Clark, 2002. Schaper, J., “A Theology of Writing: The Oral and the Written, God as Scribe, and the Book of Deuteronomy”, in: M. Aguilar and L. Lawrence (eds.), Anthropology and Biblical Studies: Avenues of Research, Leiden: Deo Publishing, 2004, pp. 97–119. Sonnet, J.-P., The Book within the Book: Writing in Deuteronomy (Biblical Interpretation Series 14), Leiden, New York, Cologne: Brill, 1997.

Historiography or Poetry? The Nature of the Hebrew Bible Prose Tradition1 Erhard Blum

In 1952 Gerhard von Rad summarised his understanding of the Hebrew Bible with the following programmatic statement: “the Old Testament is a history book”.2 In the later years of his life, he would probably not have formulated this statement so categorically. Nevertheless, von Rad’s initial point cannot be easily dismissed; after all, memory and anamnetic narration remain in some sense fundamental for the way the Bible speaks about God. But there are still many theological issues to be treated in this respect. There is, in particular, a need to clarify the precise way the Bible handles history (not only in relation to Heilsgeschichte), especially when we compare it to the approach to history that prevails in modern western thought. For all the continuity between ancient and modern approaches to history, there are real differences that should not be overlooked – this is, for example, done by theology students who, when they ask about the “truth” of biblical tradition, are actually referring to its histo-ricity. Almost no one has devoted themselves to these issues as much as von Rad; therefore, he provides an excellent point of departure. One of von Rad’s most celebrated articles is entitled “The Beginnings of His-tory Writing in Ancient Israel”. The way the title is formulated is ambiguous: is it concerned with (a) the beginning of Israelite historiography or (b) the beginning of historiography in general, which is to be located in Israel? I would venture that 1 The present article is a translation into English by B. G. Wold and L. T. Stuckenbruck from the following publication: “Historiographie oder Dichtung? Zur Eigenart alttestamentlicher Prosaüberlieferung”, in Erhard Blum, William Johnston and Christoph Markschies (eds.), Das Alte Testament – ein Geschichtsbuch? Beiträge des Symposiums “Das Alte Testament und die Kultur der Moderne” anlässlich des 100. Geburtstags Gerhard von Rads (1901–1971), Heidel-berg, 18–21. Oktober 2001 (Altes Testament und Moderne, 10; Münster: Lit, 2005), pp. 65–86, including some minor modifications (with kind permission of Lit Verlag, Münster). See also my “Ein Anfang der Geschichtschreibung? Anmerkungen zur sog. Thronfolgegeschichte und zum Umgang mit Geschichte im alten Israel,” A. de Pury and T. Römer (eds.), Die sogenannte Thronfolgegeschichte Davids (OBO 176; Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg, 2000) pp. 4-37, which discusses the same topic under a different focus. 2 G. von Rad, “Typologische Auslegung des Alten Testaments”, EvTh 12 (1952/53): 7–34 (citation from 23); see also idem, Old Testament Theology (2 vols.; trans. D. M. G. Stalker; New York/Hagerstown/San Francisco/London: Harper & Row, 1965), vol. 2, p. 356.

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both these points are implied. While the writing of history is taken for granted as an intellectual activity in modern Europe, von Rad emphasizes that “western civ-ilization is the heir and also the pupil of both Greek and biblical historical writ-ers”.3 By contrast, what one finds in the advanced cultures of Egypt and Meso-potamia (e.g. in annals, king lists, chronicles) can hardly be thought to count as “history writing”. In Israel, however, history writing emerges “at a particular point in time … and already we have it in its fully developed form”.4 By “point in time” von Rad is referring to the 10th c. BCE and with the term “form” he has in view the so-called “History of the Succession to the Throne of David”. Von Rad’s view here was basically in accordance with the opinio communis of his time; it had the full support of the well-known classical historian Eduard Meyer. Meyer had made, for instance, the following statement: “Thus the period during which Judean kingship flourished made real history writing possi-ble. No other culture of the ancient Near East was able to do this. Even the Greeks achieved this only at the pinnacle of their development during the 5th c., though they soon developed it further. In contrast, we are concerned here with a people who have just entered into culture... we stand here, as in all history, before the unfathomable mystery of an inherent gift.”5

Von Rad himself more persistently inquired into the conditions which would have made such a cultural achievement possible, and named three factors. First, there is the “historical sense” of Israel (i.e. a “peculiarly characteristic capacity to expe-rience history consciously”).6 As evidence for this, he refers to the foundational stories about origins and to the etiological legends from Genesis to Joshua and beyond: “Historical thinking, in fact, is part of the nation’s consciousness even in its [Israel’s] most primitive manifestations.”7 Second, von Rad refers to “Israel’s quite outstanding talent for narrative presentation”.8 Third, he sees a predisposing factor in “the unique religious conceptions of this people”.9 This then, he argues, is completely different from the Greek understanding of history.

3 G. von Rad, “The Beginnings of History Writing in Ancient Israel”, in idem, From Gene-sis to Chronicles: Explorations in Old Testament Theology (trans. E. W. Dickens; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005, orig. pub. 1944), pp. 125–53 (citation from p. 125). 4 von Rad, “The Beginnings”, p. 126. 5 Translated from E. Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums (II.2; Stuttgart/Berlin: J. G. Cotta, 1931), p. 285: “So hat die Blütezeit des judaeischen Königtums eine wirkliche Geschichtsschreibung geschaffen. Kein anderes Kulturvolk des Alten Orients hat das vermocht; auch die Griechen sind erst auf der Höhe ihrer Entwicklung im 5. Jahrhundert dazu gelangt und dann allerdings alsbald darüber hinausgeschritten. Hier dagegen handelt es sich um ein Volk, das eben erst in die Kultur eingetreten ist. ... Wir stehn hier, wie in aller Geschichte, vor dem unerforsch-lichen Rätsel der angeborenen Begabung.” 6 von Rad, “The Beginnings”, p. 126: “d. h. jenes eigentümlich ausgeprägte Vermögen, Geschichte bewusst zu erleben”. 7 von Rad, “The Beginnings”, p. 126. 8 von Rad, “The Beginnings”, p. 127. 9 von Rad, “The Beginnings”, p. 128.

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According to von Rad the oldest and most complete example of Israelite his-toriography is the so-called “History of Succession to David’s Throne” (2 Sam. 9–20; 1 Kgs. 1–2). The special character of this Succession narrative is due not only to its narrative art, but also to what appears to be its almost modern parlance regarding the activity of God which “is no longer seen as something that operates from time to time through the charisma of a chosen leader, but as a much more constant, much more widely embracing factor concealed in the whole breadth of secular affairs, and pervading every single sphere of human life.”10 The histori-cal background for this theological history writing was postulated by von Rad to be the emergence of a new intellectuality in Solomon’s Court, in his terms: “an era of enlightenment”. About twenty years after this article, von Rad came up with a much different emphasis in his Old Testament Theology. Now he sees the Succession History as “historical poetry”; moreover, he writes: As far as I can see, Israel only finally went over to the prosaic and scientific presenta-tion of her history with the Deuteronomistic history. Thus, right down to the sixth cen-tury, she was unable to dispense with poetry in drafting history, for the Succession Docu-ment or the history of Jehu’s revolution are poetic presentations, and are indeed the acme of poetic perfection.11

But we must ask: what does “poetry” mean in this context and in what sense can this category be applied to accounts about David? Furthermore, how does the cat-egory of “historiography” relate to it? More than ten years after von Rad’s Old Testament Theology was published, just such kinds of questions would be intensely discussed, though this time out-side the realm of Christian exegesis, that is, in the first issue of Hasifrut, a jour-nal for literary studies published in Tel Aviv. The initial impetus was given by two literary scholars, M. Perry and M. Sternberg, who developed a reception-oriented reading of the Bathsheba account in 1 Samuel 11 “as literature”.12 Significantly, in the debate that followed the biblical scholar U. Simon questioned the suitabil-ity of such an approach, arguing instead that the Bathsheba account is part of a historiographical work and not an independent novel.13 To this day, scholars continue to debate whether the Succession History is “his-toriography” or “poetry/literature” and rarely stray from these two categories. Is 10

von Rad, “The Beginnings,” p. 153. von Rad, Old Testament Theology, vol. 1, p. 109. 12 M. Perry and M. Sternberg, “The King through the Ironic Eyes: The Narrator’s Devices in the Story of David and Bathsheba and Two Excursus on the Theory of Narrative Text,” in Hasi-frut 1 (1968): 263–92 [Hebrew]; see also “Caution, a Literary Text! Problems in the Poetics and the Interpretation of Biblical Narrative,” Hasifrut 1 (1968): 608–663 [Hebrew]. 13 U. Simon, “An Ironic Approach to a Bible Story: On the Interpretation of the Story of David and Bathsheba,” Hasifrut 2 (1970): 598–607, citing p. 606 [Hebrew]. Simon appeals explicitly to the results of genre studies in Hebrew Bible since H. Gunkel. 11

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this due to an inherent ambiguity in this tradition? At first sight such an assumption may force itself upon us. However, one should reckon as well with the possibility that this ambiguity may be the result of modern descriptive concepts, whereas the ancient authors/readers had their own – different – rationality. This aspect becomes especially clear when one draws a comparison with the Greek prose works of the so-called “Ionic enlightenment” (6th c. BCE) and the Clas-sical period (5/4th c. BCE). On the one hand, it is exactly in this context that for the first time there arose certain forms of communication which in western civilization seem to be mostly self-evident and presupposed by every kind of literature. In the following section I shall seek to elucidate the concept of historiography by contrasting two basic paradigms which, respectively, I will call the “Ionic” and the “Israelite”. After this, there follows a further contrastive comparison between the understanding of biblical texts as “poetry”, on the one hand, and that of bibli-cal texts as addressee-oriented propositional literature, on the other.

I. Historiography versus Traditional Narrative The Ionic Paradigm No narrative prose document comes down to us from the Ancient Near East that is comparable with Israelite primary stories such as the Pentateuch or the Deuter-onomistic History. However, from the end of the 6th c. BCE scores of works by Greek prose writers14 are preserved (Hecataeus of Miletus, Acusilaus of Argos, Pherecydes of Athens, Hellanicos of Lesbos, etc.). These authors compiled and systematised the traditional material of the epics about the world of gods and heroes (Homer, Hesiod) and legendary materials from different regions or cities. They produced histories about origins (i.e. of the known world), building on tra-ditional genealogies, chronologies, and itineraries. Those primary stories were, for instance, concerned with genealogies of the gods, with Phoroneus the first human, with Deucalion the great flood hero, with the founders of the writers’ own cities, etc. Fundamental to these early “historians”, the so-called “logographs”, were etiological explanations of the present world that drew on traditional materials. J. Van Seters15 has worked out many details of the material correspondences between these early Greek historiographies, on the one hand, and the Genesis tra-14 F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker [=FGH] (Leiden: Brill, 1926–) pp. 1,957 f. For an important discussion, see K. von Fritz, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1967), pp. 48–49; 77–78; 476–77. Cf. further W. Schadewaldt, Die Anfänge der Geschichtsschreibung bei den Griechen: Herodot – Thukydides (Frankfurt: Suhr-kamp, 1982), pp. 31–32 and K. Meister, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung: von den Anfän-gen bis zum Ende des Hellenismus (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1990), pp. 20–25. 15 J. Van Seters, In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History (New Haven/London: Yale University Press, 1983); Der Jahwist als Historiker (ThSt, 134; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1987); see also his Prologue to History: the Yahwist

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ditions or the Former Prophets, on the other. These parallels include a number of substantial similarities, such as the interest in the origins of names and cults or the adaptation and use of genealogies and itineraries as compositional elements. For Van Seters, therefore, the early Greek historians provide a crucial historical analogy that helps one to understand biblical prose, which should be attributed to Jewish “historians” (i.e. to the “Deuteronomist”, his “Yahwist”16 or priestly redac-tors of the Pentateuch) who fashioned their history of origins in the same way as the Ionic writers. Van Seters is especially keen to examine the narrative and com-position techniques of Herodotus since his is the only fully preserved work among the early Greek historiographers. Moreover, according to Van Seters, the work of Herodotus forms a complete analogy to the Pentateuch and the Former Prophets, not only with regard to composition technique but also with regard to the dispar-ity of used materials and genres.17 Last, but not least, this analogy fits well with the date Van Seters assigns to the biblical material: the oldest is the exilic Deuter-onomistic history, followed by the “Yahwist” – also exilic – who “supplemented Dtr by extending the history back in time to the beginning of the world”.18 Thus the development of historiography as a genre would have occurred among the Judeans and Greeks at about the same time (i.e. from the 6th c. BCE).19 To be sure, many of the data emphasized by Van Seters are uncontested and the simplicity of the alleged historical analogy seems tempting. However, this can-not hide a fundamental difference that remains within the analogy he offers. The distinction is not about the content (“semantics”) or compositional structure of the texts (“text syntax”), but rather about how, respectively, the author defines his relationship to the text and which kind of reception he assumes or allows on the part of the recipients. In terms of semiotics and linguistics, this difference has to do with the “pragmatics” of these texts. The reception of texts may, of course, be directed inter alia through signals outside of the text, based on conventional rules.20 But given the difficulties sur-as Historian in Genesis (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1992) and The Life of Moses: the Yahwist as Historian in Exodus-Numbers (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994). 16 Van Seters’ “Yahwist (J)” consists roughly of material from Wellhausen’s “Jehovist (JE)” (not “J”!), including some important traditions in Joshua. Thus it should not be confused with the “J” of the traditional documentary hypothesis. 17 Van Seters’ model of the free working author, who composed without substantial writ-ten sources, renders complex diachronic analyses of the non-priestly Pentateuch unnecessary. R. N. Whybray goes even further in The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study (JSOTS, 53; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987), pp. 225–26, where he attempts to explain the entire Pentateuch (including the priestly tradition) on the basis of such a one-author hypothesis. 18 Van Seters, In Search (see n. 15), p. 361. 19 von Rad’s principal witness for ancient historical narrative, the “Thronfolgegeschichte”, is also regarded by Van Seters as post-Deuteronomistic and as insertion into the Deuteronomistic History; see Van Seters, In Search, pp. 277–78. 20 For instance, in modern times readers may be guided by the catalogue in which the book is advertised, by its location in the bookshop, by its subheading, etc..

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rounding a historical reconstruction, we have to rely mostly on evidence within the texts themselves. Most significant in the texts are self-referential propositions concerning the text, the author or the addressees. In this vein, the beginning and conclusion of books are of special interest. Not many beginnings to books of the “logographs” are preserved. Fortunately, however, we have the proemium of the first known historiographical work, the “Genealogies” of Hecataeus of Miletus, which reads: Thus Hecataeus of Miletus proclaims: “I am writing this as it appears true to me. For the stories of the Greeks are, as they appear to me, varied and ridiculous.”21

Here the Ionic Hecataeus22 refers to himself not only by name and with an autho-rial first-person “I”, but also lays claim to the truthfulness or reliability of his own work vis-à-vis that of the material and sources that he has had at hand. Cor-responding to this rather naively presented claim, the work contains a number of comments that show critical distance between the author and his legendary source materials.23 It is not important for our purposes to dwell so much on his subjective approach and (lack of) methodology24 as it is to point out that Heca-taeus consciously distinguishes his understanding from that of his subject mat-ter and that in claiming to be reliable he was taking responsibility for his presen-tation. In principle then, Hecataeus grants his audience a corresponding critical distance, not only in relation to his subject matter but also in relation to his own re-presentation. One cannot overlook that here the basic parameters are laid for a specific mode of literacy (and genre), to which the formal possibility of critical inquiries into sources and presentation among readers or hearers is a constitutive element. A new further development of this form of communication is attained by Hero-dotus (5th c. BCE), who in his work no longer strives after a prosaic presentation of hero traditions, but devotes himself to an extensive account of the Persian Wars of his own time (Herodotus I 1): What Herodotus the Halicarnassian has learnt by inquiry is here set forth: in order that so [sic] the memory of the past may not be blotted out from among men by time, and that 21

FGH 1 F 1 (see n. 14 above). Concerning Hecataeus and his context, see Schadewaldt, Die Anfänge, pp. 96–97 and H. Cancik, Mythische und historische Wahrheit: Interpretationen zu Texten der hethiti-schen, biblischen und griechischen Historiographie (SBS, 48; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1970), pp. 39–40. 23 Thus according to one of the preserved fragments, “Aegyptos himself did not come after Argos, but rather his sons who number fifty, just as Hesiod said and as I believe, certainly not twenty” (Jacoby FGH 1 F 19). Other examples are provided by K. von Fritz, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung, pp. 71–72. 24 Compare also the proemium of Antiochus of Syracuse: “Antiochus, son of Xenophanes, compiled this as the most credible and reasonable among the ancient stories concerning Italy” (Jacoby, FGH 555 F 2). 22

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great and marvellous deeds done by Greeks and foreigners and especially the reason why they warred against each other may not lack renown.25

By describing his work as an “account of investigation” (ἱστορίης ἀπόδεξις), Herodotus takes a significant step further than Hecataeus: the claim about the reli-ability of his account is extended to the material that he has subjected to “investi-gation” (ἱστορίη). Significantly, the first “I” of Herodotus is encountered near the end of the introduction (I 5.3), which marks a transition from the stories (λόγοι) told by the “Persians” and the “Phoenicians” to what he himself “knows” about the beginning of the conflict between the Greeks and Barbarians.26 Thus Herodo-tus takes over the explicit role of a responsible author, a role that he repeatedly affirms in the body of the work. This occurs as he distinguishes between his own view and hearsay (logoi; cf. II 99) or as he informs readers about different ver-sions known to him: “it is my obligation to give information about what has been reported without believing everything” (VII 152). Not least, his role as an autono-mous author is established by means of his polemical arguments with other works and their authors.27 With respect to text pragmatics, the distance created between the author and the subject matter and opens up various ways of receiving the text specific expec-tations on the part of the hearers. Among these expectations is the possibility of taking the author at his word, so that one requires him to verify and demonstrate his views. It is within this web of claims and expectations that the category of “his-toricity” is generated. As part of textual pragmatics this concept of historicity will determine the genre regardless of whether the author’s historical claims are well founded or have been reached by means of some “controlled” procedure.28 At the 25 Following the translation of A. D. Godley, Herodotus: The Persian Wars, LCL I (London: William [Heinemann], 1920), p. 3 (translations of Herodotus below are taken from Godley). 26 “These are the stories of the Persians and the Phoenicians. For my part, I shall not say that this or that story is true, but I shall identify the one who I myself know did the Greeks unjust deeds, and thus proceed with my history, and speak of small and great cities of men alike.” 27 See H. Cancik, “Zur Verwissenschaftlichung des historischen Diskurses bei den Grie-chen”, in Erhard Blum, William Johnston and Christoph Markschies (eds.), Das Alte Testa-ment – ein Geschichtsbuch? Beiträge des Symposiums “Das Alte Testament und die Kultur der Moderne” anlässlich des 100. Geburtstags Gerhard von Rads (1901–1971), Heidelberg, 18– 21. Oktober 2001 (Altes Testament und Moderne, 10; Münster: Lit, 2005), pp. 87–100; cf. also J. Assmann, Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung und politische Identität in frühen Hochkulturen (Munich: C. Kaiser, 1992), p. 301: “In Griechenland entsteht ... eine kritische Intertextualität, eine Disziplin kritischer Bezugnahme auf vorhergehende Texte, die sich zu einem eigenen Rahmen des kulturellen Gedächtnisses, der Wissenschaft, verfestigte. Vergleich-bares lässt sich weder in Ägypten und Mesopotamien noch in Israel beobachten ...”. 28 All attempts to define the term “historiography” semantically (i.e. by referring to sources in terms of their being “historical” as opposed to “unreal”) invariably come up against irresolv-able problems of definition: to what extent, for example, are “fictitious” elements to be allowed? Can ideological differences be part of an adequate definition of “history-writing”? D. Edelman, “Clio’s Dilemma: the Changing Face of History Writing,” in A. Lemaire and M. Sæbø (eds.), Congress Volume Oslo 1998 (VTS, 80; Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 247–55, has, in noting this prob--

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same time it is clearly evident that the development of verifiable and methodolog-ically controlled “research” would fit the internal logic of this genre. The “Israelite” Paradigm The Hebrew Bible29 lacks the most basic prerequisite for the concept of historic-ity we have just described: the notion of an author who can be distinguished from his own work. In addition to the anonymity of virtually all “real” narrators of the prose traditions, there seems to have been no explicit internal narrator – except for a few first person accounts (Ich-Berichte; see below).30 Though this rather obvious point is occasionally noted,31 its implications are seldom given adequate consid-eration. There are two exceptions worth mentioning, both of which are scholars from neighbouring disciplines: H. Cancik32 who has written a foundational book entitled Die mythische und historische Wahrheit, and M. Sternberg33, the Israeli scholar of literature mentioned above. To be sure, the voice of the implied author can be present in the biblical sto-ries, as for example, in explanatory comments34 that link the world of the story to that of the addressees and, at the same time, set apart the perspectives of the

lem, argued that modern and ancient history-writing are to be distinguished if one regards the former as a “critical evaluation of sources” that rests on “strictly human” rather than “divine” notions of causality (p. 255). Such a definition, which holds up contemporary secular conscious-ness as the decisive criterion, does not do justice to the understanding of history – whether it be ancient (Thucidydes!) or modern (historians of the 18th and 19th centuries) – and fails to rec-ognise that the category of “historicity” is already well at work as a criterion for Herodotus. Even though Herodotus may not have researched his sources and data as well as modern crite-ria would demand, his claim to be researching and proving a case is nonetheless present and, therefore, reflects the logic of “historicity”! Furthermore, it should be noted, if only in passing, that the important discussion by Hayden V. White et al. regarding the role of narration in histo-riography with its allusive “narrativising” components does not affect the basic textpragmatic distinction being offered here. 29 The designation Hebrew Bible is especially appropriate here because the Greek Septuagint, which includes 2 Maccabees, shows the influence of Hellenistic history-writing; cf. n. 85. 30 This evidence can not be assigned to the specific transmission-history of the Bible, a point that is shown by the independent books (i.e. Ruth, Jonah, etc.) and the larger compositions (Deu-teronomistic History and Chronicles). 31 For the most part scholars focus only on the issue of anonymity. Cf. also Van Seters, In Search, p. 359, concerning the author of the so-called Deuteronomistic History: “Dtr’s unfortunate fate was that, unlike Herodotus, he remained anonymous ...”. In what follows it will become clear that this anonymity is not some sort of unfortunate happenstance. Cf. also n. 42 below. 32 Cancik, Mythische und historische Wahrheit, pp. 105–106. The following ideas overlap in many ways with the groundbreaking work of Cancik, although he attempts more than here to correlate the “historiography” of the Hittite, Israelite and Greek regional histories; see further idem, “Verwissenschaftlichung” (n. 27). 33 Cf. further the context of n. 63 below. 34 Cf. especially S. Bar-Efrat, Narrative Art in the Bible (JSOTS, 70; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989), pp. 23–24.

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author and readers from the time of the story itself.35 Nevertheless, the narrator remains undistinguished from his depiction, because the text contains no presen-tation of possible alternative depictions nor is there a hint of any preceding autho-rial judgement. In this sense the narrative does not distinguish the depiction from the depicted. In terms of structure, this implies that the narrator adopts a thor-oughgoing omniscient perspective, that is, an “Olympian” point of view36 (again, except for the “I” accounts). At the same time, the author’s disappearance behind (or immanence in) the text implies an unmediated claim to truth which is not based on the author’s distin-guishable critical judgements and convictions. The corresponding “hermeneutic” on the side of the intended readers is thus a “holistic” one, which assumes that the text is being written for recipients who identify and agree with the narrator’s presentation. It is, therefore, in relation to the text-pragmatic dimensions, that Israelite and early Greek prose compositions, regardless of any common ground that they may share, exhibit fundamentally different structures. Indeed, they can and do repre-sent altogether different forms of communication! There is no doubt that traditions which have no explicit author nevertheless are understood to make truthful references to past events. However, the reliability of the truth claim will be based on the text’s force in revealing essential aspects of the world of the readers, that is, on the significance of these texts for strengthening or defining the community, for providing guidance for its life etc. If we assume that the traditional literature was primarily transmitted through oral means, then the narrator who is speaking supplies the material with a personal presence; he is not present as an author who judges and evaluates his sources from a critical distance, but as a “transmitter” who participates in the tradition itself and is able to lend it credence through his own personality, his standing, and/or his office. This kind of truth claim, based on unquestioned authenticity, is not unfamil-iar to modern audience as well, at least when someone tells about himself and his experience. This is precisely why the few biblical narratives which are not anon-ymous – that is, the prophetic “I” accounts (e.g. Isa. 6–8) and the so-called Nehe-miah memoir (Neh. 11–13) – do not deviate from the “Israelite paradigm”, for, in these cases the text-immanence of the narrator is given in the fullest sense, in so far as he has even become a part of the plot. In light of the borderline case of the “I” narratives, the raison d’être of the stories about Israelite origins consists in the fact that here a community defines itself by rehearsing its collective memory.37 35

Particularly clear examples may be found in Gen 22:14b and 1 Sam 9:9. Again, see Bar-Efrat, Narrative Art, pp. 17–18. 37 Compare von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments (2 vols.; Munich: C. Kaiser, 19624, vol. 1, p. 120 (no corresponding English in Stalker’s translation): “Ja, es wäre zu betonen, daß Israel mit seinen Aussagen aus einer Tiefenschicht geschichtlichen Erlebens kommt, die für die historisch-kritische Betrachtungsweise unerreichbar ist. Hier hat, weil es sich um die Dinge sei-nes Glaubens handelt, nur Israel eine Kompetenz zur Aussage.” 36

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The foregoing contrast between our two paradigms could be interpreted as if ancient Israel’s manner of dealing with history was exceptional. The opposite, however, is in fact the case: from a cultural point of view, it is actually the Ionic paradigm, which emerged out of quite specific conditions, that seems to be the exception.38 As such, it is this paradigm, however, that has ended up making a significant impact on modern Europe and has almost become a matter of course in western civilization. Much in contrast, it is the so-called “Israelite” model which represents the rule in traditional narrative – not only in the Ancient Near East. Indeed, this genre of story telling has been intensively discussed for many years in Old Testament exe-gesis under the category of Sage (i.e. “saga”). In this connection, it is enough to refer to the ground breaking studies of H. Gunkel39 and G. von Rad.40 The essen-tial aspects of their descriptions could be more precisely formulated, in my opin-ion, with text pragmatic categories among which belong the parameters deline-ated above for “traditional story telling”. Its underlying pragmatic configuration applies to more, however, than the common concept of Sage (in Gunkel’s sense of the word). It actually fits with every historical presentation in ancient Israel, including major works such as the Pentateuch or the Deuteronomistic history. Conversely, it is appropriate to limit the category of “historiography” or “his-tory writing” to the notion of dealing with history, for which Herodotus and Thu-cydides are our earliest examples. In this restricted sense historiography cannot be applied to history-related traditions of the Hebrew Bible. In fact such termi-nology would obscure its special character, a point already expressed by some earlier exegetes such as Vatke41 and Duhm.42 Once again, we may appeal to von Rad, who maintained that “das in seinem Geschichtsdenken wahrlich nicht uner-38 See, for example, the classic study of K. von Fritz, “Der gemeinsame Ursprung der Geschichtsschreibung und der exakten Wissenschaften bei den Griechen,” Philosophia natura-lis 2 (1952): 200–223; concerning the circumstances behind the cultural-historical upheavals faced by the Ionians (colonisation, political changes), see Schadewaldt, Die Anfänge, pp. 22– 23. 39 H. Gunkel, “Sagen und Legenden: II. In Israel”, RGG2 vol. 5, pp. 49–60 and Genesis (HK 1.1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 19103), pp. VII ff. 40 Still unsurpassed are von Rad’s hermeneutical reflections in Das erste Buch Mose: Gene-sis (ATD 2/4; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972), pp. 16–26 and “Offene Fragen im Umkreis einer Theologie des Alten Testaments”, in Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament, vol. 2 (TB 48; Munich: C. Kaiser, 1973), pp. 289–312, esp. pp. 299–300. 41 W. Vatke, Die biblische Theologie I: Die Religion des Alten Testamentes (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1835), p. 716: “Denn auf den Standpunkt der eigentlich-historischen Betrachtung haben sich die Hebräer überhaupt nicht erhoben, und kein Buch des A.T., mag sich auch sonst objecktif-historischer Stoff darin finden, verdient den Namen wahrer Geschichtsschreibung.” R. Smend, “Elemente alttestamentlichen Geschichtsdenkens,” in: Gesammelte Studien 1 (BET 99; Munich: C. Kaiser, 1986), pp.160–85, cites Vatke in basic agreement (pp. 181–82), also in reference to von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, vol. 2, p. 445. 42 B. Duhm, Israels Propheten (Tübingen: Paul [Mohr] Siebeck, 1916), pp. 9 ff., draws a clear contrast between the “anonymous authorship” (“anonyme Schriftstellerei”) of the biblical narrators and the critical self-awareness of Herodotus.

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fahrene Israel eine Reflexion über die ‘Historizität’ eines Ereignisses … über-haupt nicht kennt”.43 In 1970 H. Cancik, in reflecting on von Rad’s comment, has stated, “Dem wäre nur hinzuzufügen, dass mit einer Reflexion über ‘Historizität’ schon fast ungebührlich viel verlangt ist. Es fehlt nicht nur diese Reflexion, sondern auch jegliche Voraussetzung dazu.”44

II. Fictional Poetry versus Addressee-oriented Propositional Literature We have mentioned above the agenda of Israeli literary scholars, who argued in Hasifrut that the biblical narratives should be considered “literature” in the same way as Sophocles, Dante or Shakespeare. At that time, their suggestion was a prov-ocation that contradicted the way biblical scholars were interpreting the texts. In the last few decades, however, the situation has changed dramatically. Especially within Anglo-Saxon scholarly circles the project of reading the Bible as literature has become well-established,45 though often under the misleading label of “syn-chronic interpretation”.46 This development has led, for example, to the founding of new journals, the founding of special monograph series and the publication of corresponding introductions. The vast array of methodological and conceptual approaches that fall under the heading “reading the Bible as literature” cannot be adequately dealt with in the present discussion. We shall focus here on the kind of “literary approach” which treats the texts quite consequently as aesthetically autonomous literature and separates them from any specific and historically situated context of commu-nication. This approach looks for time-transcending, a-chronic interpretations or, as is sometimes said with a certain pathos, as an exclusive concern with “the text itself”. “Approaching the Bible as literature means placing the emphasis on the text itself – not on historical and textual backgrounds, not on the circumstances that brought the text into its present form, not on its religious and cultural foun-43 For the sake of clarity, we cite here the German rather than the English translation; see von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, vol. 2, p. 445. 44 Cancik, Mythische und historische Wahrheit, p. 130. 45 See the overview (with bibliography!) by M. Grohmann, Aneignung der Schrift: Wege einer christlichen Rezeption jüdischer Hermeneutik (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Berker Kevelaer, 2000), pp. 43–44; M. Oeming and A.-R. Pregla, “New Literary Criticism,” TR 66 (2001): 1–23; and the critical contribution of M. Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Lit-erature and the Drama of Reading (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), pp. 4-5. For a detailed bibliography see D. F. Watson and A. J. Hauser, Rhetorical Criticism in the Bible: A Comprehensive Bibliography with Notes on History and Method (BI, 4; Leiden: Brill, 1994). 46 See E. Blum, “Von Sinn und Nutzen der Kategorie ‘Synchronie’ in der Exegese”, in: W. Dietrich (ed.), David und Saul im Widerstreit – Diachronie und Synchronie im Wettstreit (OBO 206; Fribourg/Göttingen: Academic Press Fribourg/Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), pp. 16–30.

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dations.”47 A welcome result of such reading strategies is that interpreters seem to be freed from the burden of constructing complex and debateable hypotheses on the basis of historical-critical exegesis. However, the conceptual assumptions behind such a “literary approach” give rise to a particular difficulty. The approach requires distinctions that are quite analogous to those we have proposed in our discussion about the concept of his-toriography (in dialogue with Van Seters) and, at the same time, both approaches (i.e. treating biblical texts as historiography or as literature) appear to be “histor-ically” interconnected. On the one hand, the literary approach seems appropriate if one wishes to take the material shape of biblical traditions seriously. The texts of the Bible are very often unmistakeably poetic, and in this aspect their aesthetic and narrative forms cannot be fundamentally distinguished from those of non-biblical texts. Indeed, the interpretation of professional literary scholars seems sometimes more illu-minating than exegetical analyses which do not look for poetic subtleties in the texts they are considering. On the other hand, it is important to take basic text-pragmatic distinctions into account if one is to avoid becoming ensnared in pointless ambiguities. Poetry – or “(good) literature” – in the sense of aesthetic literary compositions is a spe-cific kind of contemporary literary communication which is defined by conven-tion and to which specific criteria or rules of reception apply. The text-pragmatic category of “fictionality” furnishes a constitutive, perhaps even decisive, param-eter for this form of communication. The notion of “fictional” texts as used here is sharply distinguished from that of “ficti-tious” texts. To put it simply, one might say that the decisive criterion for the attribute “fictitious – non-fictitious” will be whether or not the text truly depicts reality. This is a question of textual semantics. By contrast, a “fictional” text is by convention relieved of having to make any reference to reality – regardless of whether its propositions (in a nonfictional reading) are fictitious or not! The distinguishing feature of fictional, as opposed to non-fictional, texts, respectively, is therefore its supposed claim to refer or not to an extra-textual reality.48

47 K. R. R. Gros-Louis, “Some Methodological Considerations,” in K. R. R. Gros-Louis and J. S. Ackerman (eds.), Literary Interpretations of Biblical Narrative (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1982), p. 14, which is critically cited by Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative, p. 6. 48 See the still valuable discussion of S. J. Schmidt, “Ist ‘Fiktionalität’ eine linguistische oder eine texttheoretische Kategorie?”, in E. Gülich and W. Raible (eds.), Textsorten: Differen-zierungskriterien aus linguistischer Sicht (Frankfurt am Main: Athenäum, 1972), pp. 59–71; see by the same author, Literaturwissenschaft als argumentierende Wissenschaft: Zur Grund-legung einer rationalen Literaturwissenschaft (Munich: C. Kaiser, 1975), pp. 170–71 and also G. Gabriel, Fiktion und Wahrheit: Eine semantische Theorie der Literatur (Stuttgart: Kohlham-mer, 1975); W. Iser, Der Akt des Lesens (UTB 636; Munich: C. Kaiser, 1976), pp. 87–88; U. Kel-ler, Fiktionalität als literaturwissenschaftliche Kategorie (GRMB, 2; Heidelberg: C. Winter, 1980); A. Assmann, Die Legitimität der Fiktion: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der literarischen Kommunikation (Munich: C. Kaiser, 1980).

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There is, of course, a certain affinity between “poetics”/“aesthetics” and “fiction-ality”; it is the latter that makes it possible to read poetic texts openly and with polyvalent meaning, while it is an unsuitable description of texts that are used as instructions or for other reference-based purposes. Nevertheless, these two con-cepts – at least within the wider horizon of cultural history – cannot be directly correlated. Thus, on the one hand, there is the possibility of secondary fictional-isation of texts primarily intended for use (e.g. in collages, performances, etc.) while, on the other hand, there are examples of highly poetical works which are in no way meant to be received as fictional. A particularly significant example of the latter may be observed in early Greek epic. The accounts of Hesiod’s divine call49 and the call of Homer by the muses50, for example, carry in them a claim to truthfulness, though not based on the writers’ own subjectivity, but rather legitimated by divine inspiration.51 Only an inspired singer can authoritatively present the world of gods and heroes. As W. Rösler52 has carefully argued out, the notion of “fictionality” can not be assumed to have been a constituent feature of a distinct form of poetic com-munication during the time of the Greek epic, since its later “discovery” during the classical period had not yet taken place. This discovery was a development that grew out of criticism of the epic tradition (including its way of claiming truth) by the so-called Ionic scholars (e.g. Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Hecataeus),53 although Aristotle had been the first to articulate it. Significantly, the genre that stands in Aristotle’s Poetics in clear opposition to poetry is historiography! His 49 Hesiod’s Theogony opens with the well-known account of the singer’s call by the muses of Helicon (vv. 1–35, esp. 22–23). At vv. 28–29, the text says: “thus spoke the greatest daugh-ter of Zeus, who regulates the correct word, and gave me the staff of the speakers ...and she inspired my voice, an epiphany from which I was able to pronounce what would be and what was ...”. Also significant are the words of the Muses themselves (vv. 27–28): “We know to speak in full many things (ψεύδεα πολλά,) that wear the guise of truth, and know also when we will to utter truth (ἀληθέα)” (translation of A. W. Mair, Hesiod: Theogonies [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908], p. 32). 50 See the well-known opening of the Odyssey (I 1) and Iliad (I 1), and particularly the Ili-ad II 484: “Tell me now, ye Muses that have dwellings on Olympus – for ye are goddesses and are at hand and know all things, whereas we hear but a rumour and know not anything – who were the captains of the Danaans and their lords” (translation of A. T. Murray, Homer: The Iliad, LCL I [London: William (Heinemann), 1985], p. 87). 51 See D. Launderville, Piety and Politics: The Dynamic of Royal Authority in Homeric Greece, Biblical Israel, and Old Babylonian Mesopotamia (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003) pp. 211–12 (with bibliography). 52 W. Rösler, “Alte und neue Mündlichkeit: Über kulturellen Wandel im antiken Griechland und heute”, Der altsprachliche Unterricht 28 (1985): 4–26; “Schriftkultur und Fiktionalität: Zum Funktionswandel der griechischen Literatur von Homer bis Aristoteles”, in A. u. J. Assmann and C. Hardmeier (eds.), Schrift und Gedächtnis: Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation (Munich: C. Kaiser, 1983), pp. 109–122. For another significant work, see M. Finkelberg, The Birth of Literary Fiction in Ancient Greece (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 53 Rösler, “Die Entdeckung der Fiktionalität in der Antike,” Poetica 12 (1980): 283–319 (here pp. 286–87 with bibliography).

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reasoning for this contrast is based on the notion that poetry has its own spe-cific truth. The difference between the historian and the poet (i.e. dramatist) is not – according to Aristotle – that they composed with or without meter, but rather “that one tells what happened and the other what might happen” (Aris-totle, Poetics IX 1451b).54 Rösler convincingly finds in this distinction between historiographical and poetic works the “discovery of fictionality” as a funda-mental dimension in poetry. There exists, of course, a kind of “primary” fictionality in some genres of folk-literature – as for example fable, parable or joke55 – which are common to all traditional cultures, includ-ing ancient Israel.56 The new dimension in Aristotle’s delineation of poetry lies in the idea that poets, even when they deal with serious plots of the memoire collective, are portraying a possible world which does not require its truth to depend on the referential reliability of their text. One might call this a “fictionality” of “the second degree”.57 It is right here the basic concept of a non-referential form of poetic communication came into being.

Rösler regards this development in the same way he does the Ionic historiography, that is, as one caused by cultural change that accompanied the novel medium of writing. However, this rather simplistic explanation seems to be contradicted by the very different situation in Israel/Judah which was (partially) literate as well.58 The key passage in Greek reads: ἀλλὰ τούτῳ διαφέρει, τῷ τὸν μὲν τὰ γενόμενα λέγειν, τὸν δὲ οἷα ἂν γένοιτο. Aristotle is especially concerned here with tragedy; on the relationship between epic and tragedy in Aristotle, see M. Fuhrmann, Die Dichtungstheorie der Antike: Ari-stoteles, Horaz, ‘Longin’, Eine Einführung (Darmstadt: Winkler, 1992), pp. 48–49. 55 See also Rösler, “Die Entdeckung”, pp. 289–90 who, by appealing to A. Assmann, empha-sizes the “auxiliary character” of the use of fiction in these forms, that is, their integration “in übergeordnete nichtfiktionale Darstellungsziele”. At the same time, his suggestion that “fiction-ality” is not yet operative here, seems untenable. 56 The genre of “tale” (“Märchen”) may be included as well. Concerning the much discussed question on the existence of “Märchen” in the Hebrew Bible, see the classic study of H. Gun-kel, Das Märchen im Alten Testament (Frankfurt am Main: Athenäum, 1987, repr. from 1921) and H.-J. Hermisson, “Das Alte Testament und die Märchen,”, ibid., pp. 191–202. The “fiction-ality” of tales makes it possible to explain why there is no explicit evidence for this genre in the Old Testament; in fact, it would be conceivable in cited examples (analogous to Jotham’s fable). However, this does not mean that in ancient Israel “tales” would not have been told. 57 In this regard, I find the suggestion of Keller (Fiktionalität, p. 15) illuminating; according to Keller, the “status” of poetic speech “does not simply mean the suspension of reality, but instead is fiction that operates in imitation of a real, or reality-oriented speech” (“nicht lediglich als Sus-pendierung des Realitätsbezugs, sondern als Fiktion bzw. Nachahmung von wirklicher, wirklichkeitsbezogener Rede bestimmt”). Fictionality of the first degree (in folklore tradition) from the start usually offers an explicit “imitation of reality-oriented speech” marked by clues which distinguish the fictional text from the actual reality of the audience, as most clearly evidenced both through animal and plant fables and through story characters who in parables and tales are not placed within any precise context (e.g. “a king”, “a king’s daughter”, “a rich farmer”, etc.). “Fictionality” of the second degree (i.e. in poetry as its own form of communication), by con-trast, is the imitation of concrete, descriptive speech about the historical world of the readers (e.g. a novel about King David, a ballad about Belshazzar, etc.). 58 See the nuanced cultural-historical comparison in Assmann, Gedächtnis, pp. 294–95. 54

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Nevertheless, Rösler’s considerations seem helpful in another respect: his cor-relation between the development of history-writing, on the one hand, and the emergence of poetry as an aesthetic literary form of reception, on the other. Both idioms of communication, historiography and poetry (as it emerged) – including their respective notions of truth – came about through the transformation of the traditional, divinely authorised knowledge (cf. the epic!) which had lost its selfevidence in the face of the emerging critical authorial mind. With this in mind, it seems significant that in ancient Israel/Judah there is nei-ther authorial historiography nor “fictional” literature that deals with subject mat-ter arising from the collective or individual memory.59 One might object, as since Gunkel’s work sagas and legends have readily – and quite appropriately – been designated as “poetic stories”. But here the same ‘contradiction’ applies as in the Greek epic tradition: though Hebrew sagas can often be characterised as artful poetic narratives, they are not poetry in the modern (or Aristotelian) sense, that is, in the sense of an aesthetic-literary communication form that is concerned with the design of potential realities through the deliberate illusion of mimesis.60 Instead, in analogy to the epic tradition, though by completely different means, Hebrew poetics are placed in service of a reliable depiction of past reality. Thus it would be even wrong to regard stories like sagas as “non-fictional”, since the very con-cept of “fictionality”61 would not have been conceivable to those storytellers. The same applies to the concept of “historicity”! With respect to what we are trying to describe, we encounter the limits of our own descriptive categories that cannot do justice to the particular mindset of this traditional literature. In some aspects this evaluation agrees with the analysis of one of the pioneers of academic literary interpretation of the Hebrew Bible, M. Sternberg, who has so far offered perhaps the most thoroughgoing discussions of the subject. Significantly, under the heading “Fic-tion and History” and strongly critical of widely accepted “literary” approaches, Stern-berg works out that the literature of the Old Testament cannot simply be assigned to the genre of fictional poetry.62 This is because the narrators lay claim to being true. Sternberg 59 Concerning the frequently postulated exceptions of Job and Jonah, cf. Blum, Ein Anfang, p. 16. The poetry of Canticles is fictional but has no “historical” plot. 60 This is equally applicable to Hebrew verse poetry, such as psalms, wisdom sayings etc.: as prayers and instructions about life, they aim to inform, to affect, or to achieve something through communication. Though it would, of course, be possible to apply the newer literary approaches to this communicative poetry, they would not reflect its raison d’être. 61 For more about “fictionality” to the second degree, see n. 57 above. 62 Cf. Sternberg, The Poetics (see n. 45), pp. 23 ff. Sternberg’s arguments here are more sophisticated and self-reflective than in his publications of 1968. See also R. Alter, “Sacred His-tory and Prose Fiction”, in R. E. Friedman (ed.), The Creation of Sacred Literature: Composi-tion and Redaction of the Biblical Text (NES, 22; Berkley: University of California Publications, 1981), pp. 7-24. The problems are quite obvious as is demonstrated by reflections in the introduc-tion to the monograph by J. P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art in Genesis: Specimens of Stylistic and Structural Analysis (SSN, 17; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1975): in this pioneering work of literary-

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can even emphasize that the biblical prose narratives are “historiography pure and uncom-promising”. At the same time the poetic possibilities available to the narrator – including his implied omniscience – needs to be explained. In this regard, the anonymity of the bib-lical author also plays for him an essential role. According to Sternberg, the anonymity of authors in the ancient stories reinforces the “supernatural powers of narration”.63 Thus in the self-understanding of the texts, there is not only an inspired author, but also a sec-ond, implied author: “the tale’s claim to truth rests on the teller’s God-given knowledge”.64 Indeed the “self-effacing policy” of the narrator fits with the absence of any mention of his inspiration, though “the empirical evidence, historical and socio-cultural as well as compositional, leaves no doubt about his inspired standing”.65 According to this approach, the self-consciousness of the biblical story teller would have been much like that of early Greek epic writers. This would seem to provide us with an elegant solution to the paradox-ical concurrence of history and poetry: “With God postulated as double author, the bibli-cal narrator can enjoy the privileges of art without renouncing his historical titles”.66 Upon closer examination, however, Sternberg’s analysis is an anachronistic projection for which there is no evidence until the Hellenistic period as, for example, the description of Joshua to Kings as the “former prophets” or Josephus’ view of the Jewish scriptures.67 From a his-torical-comparative perspective one has to insist – contra Sternberg – that the anonymity and the forms of communication in the biblical stories are not determined by their special status as religious or canonical literature, but rather are explained as a standard pattern of traditional story telling which is categorically different from not only the later notion of “literature/poetry”, but also historiography.

If at the end of these considerations we can above all say what biblical narrative about history does not involve, such a “negative” depiction is to be explained by our starting point: the supposedly natural presuppositions of modern think-ing. In accordance with von Rad’s statement that it would “be a help to under-stand the Old Testament in all its otherness,”68 our analysis, therefore, ends up being an indispensable propaedeutical effort. The “positive” counterpart of this “other conception of history” may, however, lie in the task of clarifying what is the intrinsic character of Old Testament tradition in relation to its general his-torical and cultural context, and in determining the proprietary dimensions of its

narrative studies on the Hebrew Bible, Fokkelman stresses, on the one hand, that the stories of Genesis have “the ontological status of the literary work of art” the world of which “exists, and this is fundamental, in the mode of language” (p. 6). On the other hand, he can admit that they lay claim to historical truth (p. 7): “… so the specific, ‘fictionality’ of OT prose may not be rep-resented as opposed to what ancient Israel meant by historicity; rather it can be said to include that historicity”. The alleged paradox of Old Testament prose reflects in fact the retrojection of modern categories (i.e. “fictionality”, “historicity”) into the biblical material. 63 Sternberg, The Poetics, p. 33, who does not provide any further evidence. 64 Sternberg, The Poetics, pp. 34–35. 65 Sternberg, The Poetics, p. 77. 66 Sternberg, The Poetics, p. 82. 67 Sternberg, The Poetics, pp. 33, 79–80. See also section III (c) below. 68 von Rad, “Offene Fragen”, p. 299: “In dieser Situation könnte es eine Hilfe bedeuten, das alttestamentliche Geschichtsdenken in seiner vollen Andersartigkeit zu sehen”.

Historiography or Poetry?

41

anamnetic approach to reality. The essential groundwork for such an endeavour has already been laid.69

III. Some Exegetical Reflections The foregoing attempt to identify and profile what is characteristic of historical narrative in the Hebrew Bible has a number of exegetical consequences. Among these are various implications for the tradition-history and self-understanding of the biblical texts, which shall be discussed below under (a) and (b). In addition and at the end, under (c), we shall address some aspects of the canonisation pro-cess of the Hebrew Bible. (a) By drawing a comparison with the notion of an autonomous author in early Greek prose (including Herodotus), we have recognised a proper feature of Hebrew Bible tradition: it has preserved elements of oral saga-narratives through the medium of writing. A constituent part of this process is the role of the anony-mous narrator who identifies with the tradition. It is self-evident that this had also tangible consequences for the way narrators dealt with their source materials. For this reason conclusions drawn from Greek historiography concerning the gene-sis – especially – of the Pentateuch (e.g. by Van Seters, Whybray) are historically unfounded. Instead, we mainly focus and depend on the intrinsic evidence of the Old Testament tradition itself. In my opinion this evidence does not support the model of a single author who freely orders disparate materials (like Herodotus), but rather the model of complex compositions into which pre-existing traditions have been integrated as “building blocks”.70 69 In the first instance, we should again recall the aforementioned publications of von Rad. The first point to notice (while considering the distinctions being made in the present contribution!) would in my opinion be the stress he lays on hermeneutics: the poetic form of biblical narra-tives functions as an expression of reality that transcends historicity. We may also refer to the groundbreaking study of R. Smend, Elemente (see n. 41), as well as P. Stuhlmacher, “Anam-nese – eine unterschätzte hermeneutische Kategorie,” in idem, Biblische Theologie und Evan-gelium (WUNT, 146; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), pp. 191–214. Last, but not least, cf. the articles of A. Assmann, C. Hardmeier, and C. Link in the volume Das Alte Testament – ein Geschichtsbuch? mentioned above in n. 1. 70 The varied development of literacy stands in the way of hastily formed historical analogies, including attempts at dating biblical traditions. While the adoption of the alphabet by the Greeks and then the composition of the epics are generally dated to the 8th cent. BCE, the composition in ancient Israel of literary “Traditionstexte”, which cannot be associated with any ordinary func-tion, is significantly earlier. The oldest inscriptional evidence is the Gezer Calendar (10th c.); it provides already evidence for a kind of wisdom literature (“Listenweisheit”) which shows concern with the order of time according to the main phases of the agricultural year without serving any ordinary, practical function. Special attention is warranted for the wall inscriptions from Tel Deir Alla (9th / 8th cent.?) that include a collection of prophetic and wisdom traditions partly connected with the seer Balaam; cf. M. Weippert, “The Balaam Text from Deir Alla and the Study of the Old Testament”, in J. Hoftijzer and G. van der Kooij (eds.), The Balaam Text

42

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The insight that in terms of pragmatics the Ionic prose works fail to provide an appro-priate analogy to OT prose will have significant implications in relation to the purpose and the profile of Israelite compositions. It would be necessary, however, to examine each case individually. Regarding the most prominent instance, the Pentateuch, espe-cially the question of whether it is “Torah” or “narrative” remains a matter for further investigation.71 As a general qualification in terms of genre, the classification of the Pentateuch as a “narrative” or “narrative work” undoubtedly remains meaningful. This characterisation contrasts, however, with its inner-canonical reception as a “a Torah book of Moses”72 which in the Greek tradition became more narrowly rendered as νόμος. In fact the Pentateuchal narrative embraces and includes a vast array of regulations concerning the legal and cul-tic constitution of God’s people,73 especially in the massive Sinai pericope at the centre as well as in its structural reprise in Deuteronomy at the conclusion. What is more, the recep-tion of the whole as a Torah book is clearly predetermined in the pentateuchal text itself. At the beginning and end of Deuteronomy there are self-referential propositions about “this Torah” or “this book of Torah” (Deut. 1:5; 31:9, 11, 12, 24, 26) written by Moses under divine commission and handed over to the Levites for safe-keeping and preservation. The positions of these statements and their integration into the book make it clear that here the Deuteronomistic book of Deuteronomy actually makes reference to itself. But as soon as Deuteronomy – under whatever the circumstances – came into its present form as a conclu-sion of an extended Moses-narrative (including the revelation of the law on God’s moun-tain), readers would not have come to any other view than to regard the self-designation “Torah” or “book of Torah” as a description of the entire literary context. This of course applies to the canonical Pentateuch, but would already have held for a pre-priestly protoPentateuch stage of composition.74

from Deir Alla Re-evaluated (Leiden: Brill, 1991), pp. 151–84 (esp. pp. 175–76). Nevertheless epigraphic literary texts in Canaan will remain limited due to the non-durable writing materials (e.g. papyrus, leather, plaster, etc.). For this reason our evidence for literacy in Ancient Israel most probably will never be representative. All the more important is that we have prose tradi-tion preserved in the OT which probably originated during the 9th cent., or at least the first half of the 8th cent. It is to this period, for example, that I assign the oldest narrative about Jacob and the vita legends of Elisha. 71 See e.g. Van Seters, “The Pentateuch as Torah and History: In Defense of G. von Rad” in E. Blum, W. Johnston and C. Markschies (eds.), Das Alte Testament – ein Geschichtsbuch? Bei-träge des Symposiums “Das Alte Testsament und die Kultur der Moderne” anlässlich des 100. Geburtstags Gerhard von Rads (1901–1971), Heidelberg, 18–21. Oktober 2001 (Altes Testa-ment und Moderne, 10; Münster: Lit, 2005), pp. 47–63. 72 See my Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch (BZAW, 189; Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1990), pp. 352–53. 73 Here is another example of the basic incompatibility between the biblical tradition and the “Ionians”. To be sure, Herodotus and probably a diverse group of local historians as well, showed an interest in constitutions and legal traditions of states and peoples. However, there is a basic distinction “source” and “secondary literature”: while “historians” actually mention and discuss constitutions, the Pentateuch is the actual “charter document”! 74 I am referring here to the D-composition (Exod to Deut) which stems from the early Persian period; see most recently E. Blum, “The Literary Connection between the Books of Genesis and Exodus and the End of the Book of Joshua”, in Th. B. Dozeman and K. Schmid (eds.), A Farewell to the Yahwist? The Composition of the Pentateuch in Recent European Interpretation (SBL Symposium Series 34; Atlanta: SBL 2006), pp. 89–106. Van Seters, “The Pentateuch as

Historiography or Poetry?

43

All of this is only comprehensible if we pay attention to the Eigenbegrifflichkeit of the concept of Torah in the Hebrew Bible: we do not have any “book of Torah” in which the covenant obligations are not also bound up with a narrated aetiology about the interrela-tionship between the covenantal partners.

(b) One of the most far-reaching characteristics of biblical tradition may be observed in the way it deals with contradictory and competing traditions. Rival traditions are naturally to be found in oral transmission as well. If such competing traditions do not co-exist in different communities, however, there is at work – as demonstrated by J. Goody and others75 – some kind of regulating amnesia which opens up the possibility of a persistent, though unnoticed, adap-tation and adjustment of the tradition. By contrast, in literature produced by an author who openly takes responsibility for its content, there exists the possibility of retaining heterogeneous traditions side by side for the purpose of comparison, comment, or evaluation by the author.76 However, in a written tradition in which the author is not explicitly identified, the last mentioned possibility has no chance of being realised. Though amnesia, in its function as a steering-element in the formation of tradition (e.g. by deliber-ate omissions), is not excluded at the outset, it must be prepared to yield to oppo-sition or even rejection, especially once a written tradition has been able to gain a certain degree of recognition. Thus two main possibilities remain, both of which are well documented within Judaism of the biblical period: Either (1) one assem-bled divergent traditions more or less consciously in different and independent works that where transmitted side by side77 or (2) one went the route of more or less discontinuous Fortschreibungen of one and the same corpus by means of addition, omission or invasive change. In any case, it was the progredient, liter-ary ‘depositing’ of traditions that seems to have predominated. In this way, under certain conditions, even substantial corrections and counter-presentations could have been integrated. I have attempted elsewhere to work this out in relation to the priestly re-editing of the Pentateuch. Torah” (n. 71), pp. 57–8, mistakenly assumes that the D-composition would have included only the Book of the Covenant as a legal corpus. Actually, however, the linkage between Deuter-onomy and the Moses-narrative in Deut 31:14–15, 23 and 34:10, along with the juxtaposition of the Book of the Covenant and the Deuteronomic law, belong to the pillars of the D-compo-sition hypothesis (see my Studien [n. 72], pp. 85 ff.). 75 Here it suffices to refer to the classic work of J. Goody and I. Watt, “The Consequences of Literacy”, in J. Goody (ed.), Literacy in Traditional Societies (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-sity Press, 1968), pp. 27–68. 76 For a good example of this see Herodotus I 5.3. 77 Compare, for example, the books of Chronicles with Samuel-Kings, Jubilees with GenesisExodus, or the Temple Scroll with the Pentateuch. Given the considerable expenditure required for the transmission of literary works for many generations, we have to reckon with the pos-sibility that many such texts went missing without a trace. The high number of ancient Greek works known only through quotations of later authors gives the impression how easy it was for literature outside a carefully preserved canon to be lost.

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(c) My profiling of the “historical” tradition of Israel has taken its point of departure in the phenomenon of the anonymity of biblical narrators. Significantly, this emphasis not only serves M. Sternberg to elucidate, in his own way, the pro-prium of Israelite literature (see above), but also, in still another way, the work of B. S. Childs.78 Childs is concerned with the “canonical process”. According to him, Israel’s long-standing experience of God led to a “new understanding of scripture” by means of a canon in which it is not so much Israel herself who acts but who witnesses to “the divine source of its life”. “The clearest evidence for this position is found in the consistent manner in which the identity of the canon-ical editors has been consciously obscured…”.79 Here, presumably, Childs is not thinking of a process of redactional tampering and interpolation through which explicit references to authors were removed; there is simply no evidence of such. Rather, in relation to the genesis of canonical tradition Childs assumes a partic-ular epistemology in which “scripture” itself becomes the subject: “Israel’s own self-understanding was never accorded a place of autonomy, but was always inter-preted in the light of the authority of scripture.”80 Seen in this way, the transmis-sion history of tradition itself, understood as “canonical process”, easily gains a theological quality. Compared with the view of Childs, our explanation is more straightforward, insofar as anonymity is not derived from either a deliberate hermeneutical aim or a theological “canonical consciousness”, but from a widespread traditional herme-neutical paradigm. Nevertheless, a possible connection between our paradigm and the process of canonization suggests itself: as already outlined above (in [b]), the paradigm of an anonymous author in the text provides an essential factor behind the process of “sedimentation” of tradition. On the other hand, we cannot rule out the possibility that this sedimentation would have contributed to the tendency to concentrate on the formation of tradition within certain increasingly authoritative literary compositions. In this case there was a dynamic that could pave the way for a canonical process in a more narrow sense of the word. Over against this background, it may seem paradoxical that, during the end phase of the formation of the Hebrew Bible, questions were being asked about the nature and identity of those who composed the canonical writings. State-ments of Josephus and Philo concerning the prophetic character of the bibli-cal authors and their identification by name in the Babylonian Talmud81 reflect a wider tradition that is already hinted at in the books of the Chroniclers: Fic-tive statements ascribe the primary material in the books of the Kings to records 78

Blum, Studien (n. 72), pp. 229–30. B. S. Childs, Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (London: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 1979), p. 59. 80 Childs, Introduction, p. 59. 81 See Josephus, Contra Apionem I.37 ff.; Philo, Vita Mosis II.11; and inter alia the series of writers of the Former Prophets expressly mentioned in bBab Bat 14b: Joshua, Samuel, and Jeremiah. 79

Historiography or Poetry?

45

of “Zeitgeschichte” written by named prophets.82 As T. Willi convincingly argues,83 this phenomenon culminated finally in the application of the category of “proph-ets” to those books that immediately follow the Torah.84 All this stands, at least at first sight, in tension with the alleged absence of any “author-model” in relation to traditional Israelite prose. In fact, however, it was in that time that the realm of Israelite traditions was, in some sense, overtaken by the Greek paradigm: ancient Judaism which had to assert itself within the Hellenistic world apparently could no longer articulate the traditional truth claim of the old narrative without bor-rowing a pattern of thought from the general cultural context. But once the Hel-lenistic author model to the earlier anonymous texts and books were applied, the truth claims of the older material could only be preserved when reformulated as claims made by inspired writers! In terms of the Jewish tradition, this means of course prophetic authors. Moreover, the canonical books of the Prophets already provided the paradigm of something like “double authorship” which allowed for a responsible human author to be identified while maintaining the alleged com-prehensive truth. In a typological perspective Judaism adopted during this period the Greek tradition of the inspired singer which had been present from the begin-ning in Greek epic tradition. It seems worthwhile to consider that this adaptation was more than the mere adjustment to generally accepted cultural concepts: Per-haps this prophetic authorization of a major part of the canonical literature, in par-ticular the “historical” prose, was developed in response to the religious canon of Hellenistic culture (Homer; Hesiod).85

82 T. Willi, Die Chronik als Auslegung: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Gestaltung der historischen Überlieferung Israels (FRLANT, 106; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972), p. 241. Cf. also B. Halpern, “Biblical versus Greek Historiography: A Comparison”, in E. Blum, W. Johnston and C. Markschies (eds.), Das Alte Testament – ein Geschichtsbuch? Beiträge des Symposiums “Das Alte Testsament und die Kultur der Moderne” anlässlich des 100. Geburts-tags Gerhard von Rads (1901–1971), Heidelberg, 18–21. Oktober 2001 (Altes Testament und Moderne, 10; Münster: Lit, 2005), pp. 101–127, who presents the evidence in Chroni cles with a quite different interpretation (ibid., pp. 120 ff.). 83 Willi, Chronik, pp. 229–30. 84 So at first in the Prologue of Ben Sira’s grandson (end of 2nd cent. BCE) and then passim in the New Testament. 85 Concerning the explicit and deliberate debates with Hellenistic history-writing in ancient Judaism, e.g. in 2 Macc. and Josephus, see esp. H. Cancik, Mythische und historische Wahrheit, pp. 108–109.; “Geschichtsschreibung und Priestertum: Zum Vergleich von orientalischer und hellenistischer Historiographie bei Flavius Josephus, Contra Apionem, Buch I”, in E. L. Ehr-lich, B. Klappert and U. Ast (eds.), “Wie gut sind deine Zelte, Jaakow ...” Festschrift zum 60. Geburtstag von Reinhold Mayer (Gerlingen: Bleicher Verlag, 1986), pp. 41–62; S. J. D. Cohen, “History and Historiography in the Against Apion of Josephus,” in A. Rappoport-Albert (ed.), Essays in Jewish Historiography (Middletown: University of South Florida, 1988), pp. 1-11. On the influence of the Greek concept of author on ancient Judaism, see B. Mack, “Under the Shadow of Moses: Authorship and Authority in Hellenistic Judaism”, in E. H. Lovering (ed.), SBL Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1982), pp. 299–318.

Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos Benjamin G. Wold

As the study of the Dead Sea Scrolls has developed it has become increasingly necessary to establish a profile of their major interpretive moves and themes. A better awareness of the idea of memory in these writings is a helpful step in this direction and is the subject of this article. To this end, the survey here consid-ers the root ‫זכר‬1 throughout the entire corpus of the Dead Sea Scrolls and pays special attention to two prominent themes, that of the exodus and of cosmology. As a required first step, the use of memory in the Hebrew Bible will be briefly explored followed by an examination of the Scrolls and how they continue or alter interpretations found there. While memory certainly occurs without invok-ing ‫זכר‬,2 this term draws attention to some of the more prevalent and explicit top-ics of remembrance. The Jewish people both were and are a people who are distinctive for their emphasis on remembering.3 The Hebrew Bible itself is remarkable among world cultures as a collection that remembers the past, emphasising the meaning and intent of history. At the centre of Judaism is the Shema, which commands the Israelites to remember at all times – in waking and walking – and to bind memorials on their homes, heads and hands. Contained within the mezuzot upon the door posts 1 Words derived from this root occur approximately 170 times in the Hebrew Bible. See A. Greiff, “Grundbedeutung und Entwicklungsgeschichte von Zakhar,” in BZ 13 (1915): 200– 214; H. Gross, “Zur Wurzel zkr,” in BZ 4 (1960): 227–37 and B. S. Childs, Memory and Tradi-tion in Israel (London: SCM Press, 1962). I would like to thank Joel Kaminsky and Naomi S. Jacobs for their observations and many valuable conversations on this essay. 2 Intertextuality, for instance, can be a clear act of remembrance, early Jewish literature re-calls biblical traditions and relates, on a theological level, contemporary with past ideas. Prayer, liturgy and holidays too are forms of remembrance. 3 A number of recent works consider memory and history in the Hebrew Bible and Juda-ism: Y. H. Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Philadelphia: Univer-sity of Washington Press, 1982) and M. A. Signer (ed.), Memory and History in Christianity and Judaism (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001); see esp. M. Z. Brettler, “Memory in Ancient Israel,” pp. 1-17; E. Wyschogrod, “Memory, History, Revelation: Writ-ing the Dead Other,” pp. 19–34; and M. Gerhart, “Space, Time, and Memory,” pp. 35–40. As Yerushalmi, p. 9 emphasises: “... ancient Israel knows what God is from what he has done in history. And if that is so, then memory has become crucial to its faith and, ultimately, to its very existence.”

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of Jewish homes is a scroll (Dt. 6:4–9, 11:13–21) that, above all else, reminds one of the exodus. Characteristic of Jews too is the Sabbath, which serves not only as a day of rest, but a remembrance of God’s work of creation.4 Indeed, the second commandment of the Decalogue is introduced with “remember the Sab-bath day and keep it holy” (Ex. 20:8 ‫)זכור את־יום השבת לקדשו‬.5 Certainly, a cat-egory of remembrance that transcends all others both present and past is mem-ory of covenant. Our understanding of Jewish memory in antiquity is greatly deepened by the Dead Sea Scrolls. These scrolls were almost certainly a library originally housed at Qumran. Scrolls from this ancient library may be conveniently divided into three types of document: (1) biblical; (2) “sectarian” (i.e. “Essene-monastic”); and (3) Jewish religious. Many compositions, including a number discussed below, had been defined as deriving from or reflecting sectarian origins, but now are correctly viewed by most scholars as reflecting a wider diversity of Jewish com-munities. Increasingly, it has become recognised that a large number of scrolls could have been composed someplace beside Qumran and were only collected there. By implication, one should recognise that scrolls could have had a much broader circulation than previously conceived. Therefore, when considering sev-eral fragments in this essay, one should allow for the possibility that theologies present could represent more than a singular Jewish community. It is necessary to be clear that interpretation of biblical narratives occurs in a large number of recently published documents and that their significance relates to understanding far more than the so-called “Essene-sectarian” group.6 In his work on Jewish memory, Yosef Yerushalmi discusses Hebrew Bible and Rabbinic literature before considering later, and mostly medieval, periods of Jewish recollection. His work, concerned broadly with the Jewish past, notes both how and what Bible and Rabbinic Judaism remember, but spends very lit-tle time on these subjects in the Second Temple period.7 This essay is concerned with memory of some Jews in literature from this period. This study is an ini-4 L. A. Hoffman considers both Jewish biblical and later liturgical passages in a consider-ation of God’s memory, the Sabbath as a memorial to creation and the exodus in: “Does God Remember? A Liturgical Theology of Memory,” in Signer, Memory, pp. 41–72, see esp. pp. 54– 55. Cf. Gen. 2:3. 5 Deuteronomy 5:12 commands one to “keep” (‫ )שמור‬rather than remember the Sabbath, however, an exhortation to remember (‫ )זכרו‬appears in relation to this command (Dt. 5:15) which does not occur in Exodus. 6 D. K. Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 1998) p. 93 writes that liturgical compositions “found at Qumran do not represent homogenous liturgy composed by a single sect,” and also, “we recognize the ‘ordinariness’ of many pieces taken up at Qumran, eclectically adopted and adapted.” In this thematic study, Falk’s comments may be applied more broadly than liturgical works. 7 Yerushalmi, Zakhor, pp. 5-26. As Yerushalmi notes, Christian traditions preserved much of the Jewish literature from the time that was not valued in Jewish traditions, p. 15. He fur-ther articulates that the history of the period was not remembered by Rabbinic Judaism: “As for the sages themselves – they salvaged what they felt to be relevant to them, and that meant,

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49

tial contribution towards bridging the gap between the Bible and the Sages. The focus will be the question of whether Jewish thoughts preserved in some of the Dead Sea Scrolls reflect interest in and interpretation of events similarly or dis-similarly than the Hebrew Bible.

I. Remembrance in the Hebrew Bible The momentous meeting between Moses and the great ‫“( אהיה אשר אהיה‬I am who I am”; Ex. 3:14) in the burning bush marks the beginning of a long tradition of remembering in the Hebrew Bible. Before the revelation of God’s forthcoming deliverance atop Mt. Sinai, references to memory in the book of Genesis include but are not limited to: (1) God’s remembrance of His covenant with Noah (Gen. 9:16); and (2) Joseph in Egypt, such as the chief butler’s failure to remember Joseph in prison (Gen. 40:23). However, it is the Exodus, when Moses encounters the God of his forefathers and hears the prophetic announcement describing how he will lead the children of Israel to the land flowing with milk and honey, which is the centrepiece of remembrance in the Hebrew Bible. This foreshadowing (Ex. 3:14 ff.) of the exodus is prefaced by a prediction of remembrance that has endured through the history of the Jewish people (vs. 15): “this is my name forever (‫שמי‬ ‫ ;)לעלם‬this is my memorial (‫ )זכרי‬for every generation (‫)לדר ודר‬.” The very first time one hears about the Passover it is construed as a memo-rial. The generation that observed the Passover are told how to conduct the meal as a memorial before the event memorialised has even transpired in the narrative sequence. That the author of Exodus 12 emphasises memory in relation to the Passover indicates just how central the exodus is to the theme of remembrance. This style of recollection occurs also in Jesus’ celebration of the Passover: the Last Supper is retold in the gospels to imitate the institutionalising of a memorial at the time of the original event. Remembrance of God’s acts of deliverance in Exodus occurs repeatedly throughout the Hebrew Bible far more than any other subject of remembrance. Memory topoi occur in the Psalms more often than any other collection in the Bible. Psalm 135:13, following an abbreviated account of salvation history through Egypt and to Og the king of Bashan, concludes with an almost explicit usage of Exodus 3:15: “Your name (‫)שמך‬, Lord, is forever (‫ ;)לעולם‬Your memorial (‫)זכרך‬, Lord, is for every generation (‫)לדר ודר‬.” While Psalm 135 points to the centrality of Exodus 3, there are a number of other significant Psalms that are devoted to remembering deliverance from slavery. Two Psalms in particular draw attention to remembering the plagues that God wrought on the Egyptians (Pss. 78:42–43, in effect, what was relevant to the ongoing religious and communal (hence also ‘national’) life of the Jewish people,” p. 25.

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105:5).8 In the Psalms and elsewhere in the Bible language of miracles (‫)נפלאות‬ and wonders (‫ )מפתים‬is used to invoke memory of God’s supernatural acts in the book of Exodus (Pss. 106:7, 111:4; cf. Neh. 9:10, 17; 1 Chron. 16:12).9 Memory takes other forms in the Hebrew Bible as well. Another dominant sub-ject of remembrance is God’s covenant with Israel (Pss. 25:6, 74:2, 18, 119:49; Jer. 14:21), which is very often intricately linked with the exodus event (Lev. 26).10 Additionally, the Psalms also evoke general recollection of God’s mercies, faith-fulness and greatness (e.g. Pss. 98:3, 154:7). In Deuteronomy God is remembered as creator, father and redeemer (Dt. 32:7). Here too the Israelites are exhorted not to destroy the remembrance of Amalek for attacking them on their way out of the land of Egypt (Dt. 25:19; Dt. 26:5–9 is an especially key passage). In the Torah, and once in Malachi, certain objects or acts serve as a memorial (‫)זכרון‬. Such commemorations take the form of: Aaron’s breastplate (Ex. 28:12, 29); priestly garments (Ex. 39:7); offerings (Num. 5:15); the bronze covering of the altar (Num. 17:5); the gold of the temple (Num. 31:54); and the blowing of trumpets (Lev. 23:24). Malachi 3:16 uses the imagery of a heavenly book of remembrance (‫ )ספר זכרון‬in which the names of the righteous are recorded. The preservation of memory of the righteous fits well with its counterpart in biblical wisdom traditions where the memory of the wicked disappears and is no more (Prov. 10:7; Pss. 9:7, 34:17, 109:15; Job 18:17). However, and again emphasis-ing the exodus, phylacteries are a material memorial of God’s deliverance from Egypt (Ex. 13:9): “let them be a sign on your hand and a memorial between your eyes (‫)והיה לך לאות על־ידך ולזרכון בין עיניך‬, so that the teaching of the Lord is in your mouth, for He brought you out of Egypt with power.”

II. ‫ זכר‬and the Exodus in the Dead Sea Library The emphasis within the Bible on Israel’s remembrance of God’s deliverance from Egyptian bondage receives significant attention in Jewish literature from the Hel-lenistic period.11 A wide range of literary works contemplate and adapt traditions

8 S. E. Loewenstamm, The Evolution of the Exodus Tradition (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992) pp. 79–86, 184–88 [Translated from the Hebrew by B. J. Schwartz]; discusses the adap-tation and alteration of these psalms from the Exodus tradition. 9 Other references to the Exodus and memory are Deuteronomy 7:18, Judges 6:13 and Micah 6:5. 10 See especially Exodus 6:5 (‫וגם אני שמעתי את־נאקת בני ישראל אשר מצרים מעבדים אתם‬ ‫ ;)ואזכר את־בריתי‬Leviticus 26:45; Psalms 105:8 and 106:45. 11 M. Fishbane describes the growth of the Exodus narrative as: “... the consummate expres-sion of divine power and national redemption ...a mythos of the origins of Israelite religious consciousness and nationhood. Accordingly, the exodus tradition was used, from the first, as a paradigmatic teaching ...” and: “ ... each generation looked to the first exodus as the archetypal

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51

about the plagues God visits on the Egyptians.12 The Passover is perhaps the most considered theme that stems from the exodus (in the DSS see esp. 4Q265 3 ln. 3; 4Q319 13 ln. 4; 4Q320–21).13 On a number of occasions in the Dead Sea Scrolls language of both Egypt14 and memory occur, often within a context that recounts salvation history. In compari-son to the Hebrew Bible, memory of the exodus in several of the scrolls is proc-essed differently or gives new nuances to earlier themes. a. 4Q185 (“Sapiential Work”) One of the most easily identifiable references to Egypt and memory occurs in 4Q185 (“Sapiential Work”) lines 13b–15. Nothing in the language of the text suggests that it should be categorised as “sectarian”, and the character and genre of the manuscript has simply been described as “instruction” and “testament”.15 These lines turn to the wonders done in Egypt as a focal point for gaining wis-dom and the fear of the Lord:16 expression of its own future hope.” in Biblical Text and Texture: A Literary Reading of Selected Texts (New York: Schocken, 1979) p. 121. 12 See the Apocalypse of Abraham 30:14–16; Testament of Dan 5:8; Jubilees 48:5; Wisdom of Solomon 11–18; Josephus Antiquities; Philo, Vita Mosis; Artapanus 3:27–33; Pseudo-Philo 10:1; and Ezekiel the Tragedian 133–48. See also E. Greenstein, “The Firstborn Plague and the Reading Process,” in D. P. Wright, et al. (eds.), Pomegranates and Golden Bells: Studies in Bib-lical, Jewish and Near Eastern Ritual, Law, and Literature in Honor of Jacob Milgrom (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1995) pp. 555–68. 13 Even the Dayyenu, found in today’s Passover Haggadah, preserves a very early recollec-tion of the exodus; see L. Finkelstein, “Pre-Maccabean Documents in the Passover-Haggadah,” in HTR 36 (1943): 1–38. See also J. J. Collins, “Reinventing Exodus: Exegesis and Legend in Hellenistic Egypt,” in R. A. Argall, B. A. Bow and R. A. Werline (eds.), For a Later Generation: The Transformation of Tradition in Israel, Early Judaism and Early Christianity (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2000) pp. 52–62 and T. Bergen, “The Tradition History of the Exo-dus-review in 5 Ezra 1,” in C. A. Evans (ed.), Of Scribes and Sages: Early Jewish Interpretation and Transmission of Scripture, vol. 2 (SSEJC/LSTS; London: T & T Clark, 2004) pp. 34–50. 14 ‫“( מצרים‬Egypt”) occurs 50x in non-biblical manuscripts from Qumran. In a number of these instances the context is too fragmentary to decipher the exact meaning of the reference. Some contexts suggest Egypt in an eschatological sense: 1QM 1 ln. 4; 14 ln. 1; 4Q158 a (“Reworked Pentateuch”) 14 i lns. 4–5; 4Q248 (“Historical Work A”) lns. 2, 6, 8. A number of refer-ences occur in “pseudo-” or “apocryphon-” versions of biblical accounts, such as: 4Q368 (“Apoc-ryphon Pentateuch A”) 2 ln. 10; 4Q379 (“Apocryphon Joshua B”) 12 ln. 5; 4Q391 (“Pseudo Ezekiel E”) 1 ln. 2 and 70 ln. 2. 15 J. Strugnell, “Notes en marge du Volume V des ‘Discoveries in the Judean Desert’,” RevQ 7 (1969–71) p. 269 remarks: “selon toute probabilité l’ouvrage est sapiential dans sa langue et dans ses thèmes, et ... il appartient au genre ‘instruction’, ou peut-être ‘testament’, d’un sage (ou d’un personnage historique) addressé à ‘mes fils’ ou ‘mon peuple’”. 16 Following H. Lichtenberger’s reconstruction in, “Der Weisheitstext 4Q185 – Eine Neue Edition,” in C. Hempel, A. Lange, H. Lichtenberger (eds.), The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002) p. 130. All translations and stichoi mine unless otherwise indicated.

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‫ועתה שמעו נא עמי והשכילו‬... (13 ‫ נפלאים עשה‬17‫( פתאים יתומו מן גבורת אלהינו וזכרו‬14 ‫( במצרים ומופתיו ב]ארץ חם[ ויערץ לבבכם מפני פחדו‬15 ... (13) and now listen to me my people, and gain wisdom (14) from me simple ones, they shall be amazed from the might of our God, and remember the miracles He did (15) in Egypt, and His wonders in the land of Ham and your hearts shall fear from before His dread ...

4Q185 is a three column fragment, with very little of the third column preserved (1–2 iii). The first two columns (1–2 i–ii) are concerned with describing personified wisdom. Lady Wisdom’s judgement is compared with unendurable angelic judgement (i ln. 8; ii ln. 6). An allusion to Isaiah 40:6–8 (cf. Ps. 103:15 and Is. 44:4) is used (i lns. 10–12) to describe the ephemeral nature of human existence, which is likened to a blossom. The exhortation to remember Egypt is used to describe God’s mercies, deliverance of a remnant (‫ ;שארית‬ii ln. 2) and judgement. Wisdom, it appears, is described as having been given in early generations to the addressees’ forefathers (‫ ;לאבתיו‬ii ln. 14). In 1–2 ii line 4, both Isaac and Jacob are mentioned but it is unclear how one is to understand this reference. b. 4Q370 (“Exhortation Based on Flood”) Carol Newsom, in her analysis of 4Q370 (“Exhortation Based on Flood”), finds probable literary dependence on 4Q185.18 Like 4Q185, religious values are taught through a tradition of recollection and interpretation of biblical examples. Similar to 4Q185, 4Q370 is not likely to have been composed by the Qumran community.19 On the basis of parallels with 4Q185 1–2 i line 13–ii line 3, Newsom reconstructs 4Q370 ii lines 4–9. Newsom’s proposed reconstruction, particularly line 7, would significantly contribute to understanding the theme of memory and exodus:20 [‫כי הנה כחציר‬ ‫( רעתם בדעתם בי]ן טוב לרע‬4 [‫( יצמחו וכצל ימיהם ע]ל הארץ ועתה שמעו נא עמי והשכילו לי פתאים כי מעולם‬5 [‫( ועד עולם הוא ירחם ]שמרי בריתו וחןדיו לכל זכרי פקדיו לעשותם וחכמו מן‬6 17 Allegro (DJD V, p. 85) reconstructs ‫( יזכרו‬impf.); however, Strugnell (“Notes en marge,” p. 270) reads the verb as an imperative and is followed by Lichtenberger (“So gedenkt der Wundertaten,” p. 144). 18 C. Newsom, “4Q370: An Admonition Based on the Flood,” in RevQ 13 (1988) p. 39. Simi-lar material is found in 4Q370 ii lines 5–9 and 4Q185 i 9–13 in an allusion to Isaiah 40 and the nature of humanity and 4Q185 i line 13–ii line 3 and 4Q370 ii lines 7–9 in “remembering/pay-ing attention to the wonders of God and the proper response of the faithful to those wonders.” 19 Newsom, “4Q370,” p. 23. 20 Newsom, “4Q370,” p. 42 offers this Hebrew reconstruction as well as a parallel version with 4Q185 i line 13–ii line 3 without translation; translation and divisions mine.

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53

[‫( גבורת יהוה זכרו נפל]אות עשה במצרים ומופתיו בארץ חם יערץ לבבכם‬7 [...‫( מפני פחדו ותשמח נפ]שכם כחסדיו הטבים‬8 ‫( משניכם ואל תמרו דבר]י יהוה‬9 (4) their evil, in their knowledge of good and evil, for behold like grass (5) they shall sprout and their days are like a shadow upon the earth, And now, listen my people and gain wisdom from me simple ones, for from eternity (6) until eternity He shall have compassion, keep His covenant, His mercies are for all, remember His commands to do them, and gain wisdom from (7) the might of the Lord, and remember the miracles He did in Egypt and His wonders in the land of Ham, your hearts shall fear (8) from before His dread, and your souls shall be glad according to His good mercies[ (9) ]the ones copying you, do not rebel against the words of the [Lord

In addition to parallels with 4Q185, Newsom elaborates on numerous and sys-tematic similarities between 11QPsa xxvi (“Hymn to the Creator”; esp. ln. 13) and 4Q370. God’s divine activity in both 4Q370 and 11QPsa xxvi is based upon a description of the creativity of God. 4Q370 i line 1 describes the mountains as being crowned and pouring down produce on all living beings (‫]ו[יעטר הרים‬ ‫)תנ]בה ו[פך אכל על פניהם ופרי טוב השביע כל נפש‬. A nearly identical description occurs in 11QPsa xxvi line 13 (‫ אוכל טוב לכול חי‬vacat ‫)מעטר הרים תנובות‬. Further-more, the proper response to God’s creativity in both compositions is blessing. If Newsom’s reconstruction of 4Q370 (ii lns. 4–9), based upon 4Q185, is correct it may be further conjectured that the non-extant preceding column of 4Q370 i was concerned with creation, separation of light and dark, and establishment of times, similar to 11QPsa xxvi. 4Q370 i follows the description of God’s provision with a description of the flood. This flood of judgement destroys all living creatures, followed by God establishing a sign of the covenant (4Q370 i ln. 7): “His rainbow He placed in the clouds so as to remember the covenant (‫)למען יזכור ברית‬.” Similar to possi-ble references to creation, provision and deliverance from Egypt, remembrance in 4Q370 i line 7 follows a biblical pattern of remembrance as grounds for praise and blessing.

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Benjamin G. Wold

c. Damascus Document The Damascus Document remembers Egypt in an exhortation that recounts God’s saving plan in history. Here, a chronological recollection of God’s preservation of a remnant (‫ )שאירית‬begins in column i line 2: God has a dispute with all flesh and will judge the unfaithful. Indeed, God has carried out judgement through-out history, but has always delivered a select group among the children of Israel. Remembrance of the generations and deliverance of the elect is introduced with (i ln. 4): ‫“( ובזכרו ברית ראשנים השאיר שאירית‬He remembered the covenant with the forefathers and preserved a remnant”; cf. Lev. 26:45).21 In the Damascus Document, the generations of the Babylonian captivity (i ln. 6), the generation of Noah (iii ln. 1), and the children of those delivered from Egypt and who wandered in the wilderness because of the stubbornness of their hearts, are each recalled (iii ln. 5): ‫ובניהם במצרים הלכו בשרירות לבם‬. God estab-lished his covenant with those who remained faithful and revealed “secret things” (‫ ;נסתרות‬iii ln. 14). These ‫ נסתרות‬are described as (iii lns. 15–16): Sabbaths, festi-vals (‫)מועדים‬, periods (‫)עידות‬, and the ways of truth.22 The Damascus Document’s use of ‫ זכר‬is similar to remembrance in Leviticus 26:45: ‫ווזכרתי להם ברית ראש־‬ ‫ ;נים אשר הוצאתי־אתם מארץ מצרים‬a verse that plays a significant role in the retelling of history in Psalm 10623 as well as elsewhere at Qumran (see esp. 4Q405 v and 4Q463 1 below).24 The Damascus Document has been interpreted by Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, especially columns ii–vi, as suggesting a group (‫ )שבי ישראל‬who returns from Babylonian exile,25 but appeals to Israel to convert to their view of orthodoxy before it is too late. Although they have returned from exile, a problem of legit-21 1QM xiii lines 7–9 describe the establishment of a covenant from the time of the fore-fathers until eternity, and a remembrance (‫ )זכר חסדיכה‬of God’s mercies among the remnant (‫)שארית‬, the survivors of the covenant (‫)מחיה לברית‬, in order to help them. 22 P. R. Davies, The Damascus Covenant: An Interpretation of the “Damascus Document” (JSOT 25; Sheffield: Sheffield University Press, 1983) p. 81, “[God] revealed to them the ‘hid-den things’ (‫ )נסתרות‬in which Israel had gone astray, as the result of which the remnant dug a well, established halachah. One of the most obvious features of this halachah to the newcomer is the calendar, and it is this which is particular[ly] mentioned at this point – holy sabbaths and glorious feast days.” 23 See comments by G. J. Brooke, “Psalms 105 and 106 at Qumran,” in RevQ 14 (1990) p. 286. 24 J. G. Campbell, The Use of Scripture in the Damascus Document 1–8, 19–20 (BZAW 228; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1995) p. 56 in a chart of CD (i ln. 1–ii ln. 1) identifies quotations and allusions to the Hebrew Bible, among which: Lev. 26:40 in CD i 3; Lev. 26:42 in CD i 4. He summarises (p. 57): “Lv 26 threatens various punishments, which will take place in stages, should the covenant be broken (v 15, ‫ ;)להפרכם את בריתי‬if Israel refuses to be disciplined, the “sword wreaking the vengeance of the covenant” (v 25) will come, with the desolation of cities and land (v 33, ‫חרבה‬...‫ )ארצכם שממה ועריכם‬and dispersal of Israel.” See also Davies, Damas-cus Covenant, pp. 84–85. 25 J. Murphy-O’Connor, “An Essene Missionary Document? CD II,14-VI,1,” in RB 77 (1970): 201–229; and “The Essenes and Their History,” in RB 81 (1974): 215–44.

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55

imacy arises. According to Murphy-O’Connor, after the first generation returns from Babylon (=Damascus), an individual who becomes known as the “Teacher of Righteousness” joins the Essene group. This teacher claims to embody the covenant and the proper interpretation of the Law, while his adversary resumes relations with the temple in Jerusalem. While much could be said about Mur-phy-O’Connor’s interpretation of the history behind the Damascus Document, for the present conversation it is significant that reference to and remembrance of the covenant and deliverance from Egypt merge with recollection of return from Babylon or, in some way, the exile continues for a remnant group in post-exilic Israel. In the case of the latter, language of exile coincides with a negative view of the Jerusalem cult. Chapter v of the Damascus Document is significant for the following conver-sation because of the way it recounts the “first” deliverance, implying a second, from Egypt. CD v lines 17–20 read: “they are a nation devoid of counsel, they have no understanding, for in former times Moses and Aaron arose by the hand of the Prince of Lights, but Belial, in his mischief, raised up Jannes and his brother in the first deliverance of Israel vacat and in the period of destruction of the land came boundary shifters who caused Israel to stray”. Jannes and his brother (Jam-bres) are extra-biblical characters who are the opposing magicians to Moses and Aaron. They are described in 2 Timothy 3:8 as fools who defied the truth.26 The period of the “destruction of the land” is certainly an allusion to Leviticus 26:32 (see vss. 27–46; cf. CD v ln. 21), where devastation is the consequence of reject-ing the covenant. In Leviticus 26:40–41, Israel is warned that defiance will lead to exile. Leviticus 26 also recounts deliverance from Egypt and plays a crucial role in remembering Egypt in a context of return from exile. d. 4Q462 (“Narrative”) 4Q462 (“Narrative”), a 19 line and likely non-sectarian manuscript, uses imagery of remembrance in relationship to Egypt to describe the experience of Israel in the past and future. One leitmotif of this fragment is the restoration of Jerusalem (lns. 3, 19) from a kind captivity or continuing exile, which is understood meta-phorically as bondage in Egypt. In this fragment, reproduced in full below and partially reconstructed in translation, ‫ יזכור‬occurs in lines 3 and 19:27

26 Cf. the pseudepigraphical work Jannes and Jambres in J. H. Charlesworth (ed.) The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2 (Doubleday: New York, 1985) pp. 427–42. 27 Transcription of these lines, without full diacritical markings, is from M. S. Smith, DJD XIX, p. 198; see also his, “4Q462 (Narrative) Frg. 1: A Preliminary Edition,” in RevQ 15 (1991) p. 57.

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]‫( את שם וא[ת חם ואת יפת‬2 ]‫ יזכור‬°° [ ]‫[ יעקוב ויא‬ (3 ‫ בכן יאמר‬vac [ ]‫ם לישראל‬°°[ (4 ]‫ים רוקמה הלכנו כי לוקח‬°[ (5 ‫[לעבדים ליעקוב באהב]ה‬ (6 ]°°° ‫ המושל‬. . . .‫תנה לרבים לנחלה‬°[ (7 ]‫ כבודו אשר מאחד ימלא את המים ואת הארץ‬°[ (8 ]‫( [ל] [את הממשלה לכדו עמו היה האור עמהם ועלינו היה‬9 ?‫( עבר ק[ץ החושך וקץ האור בא ומשלו לעולם על כן יואמר]ו‬10 ‫ל[י]שראל כי בתוכנו היה עם החביב יעק]וב‬ (11 .... ]° ‫[יהמה ויעבודו ויתקימו ויזעקו אל‬ (12 ‫[והנה נתנו במצרים שנית בקצ ממלכה ויתקי]מו‬ (13 ]‫יו[שבי פלשת ומצרים לבזה וחורבה יועמידוה‬ (14 ‫אה‬/‫[מיר לרומם לרשע בעבור תקבל טמ]את‬ (15 ]‫[ה ועז פניה יתשנה בזיוה ועדה ובגדיה‬ (16 ]°‫ים ואת אשר עשתה לה כן טמאת הע‬°[ (17 ]‫[נשנאתה כאשר היתה לפני הבנותה‬ (18 ]°‫ ויזכור את }ישרא{ ירושלם ה‬vac [ (19 (2) Shem,] Ham and Japhet[ ] (3) an inheritance]28 for Jacob, and He des[troyed them and he cried ou]t29 and He remembered [ his word which He spoke (?)30 ] (4) [ ] for Israe[l ] vac then it shall be said[ ] (5) [ ] an embroidered garment,31 we went, for taking[ ] (6) [ ] for slaves, for Jacob with lov[e ] (7) [ it] was given32 to many for an inheritance, (8) ] His glory, the Lord33 rules [ which from one (drop?) will fill the waters and the earth[ (9) [ ] the power is with him alone,

]

Reconstructing: [‫נחלה‬. There are approximately 6–7 letter spaces available for reconstruction, the final letter after the damage point on the left side can only be a nun or kaf. Perhaps then: ‫ויא]בדם וזע[ק‬. 30 Reconstructing from 4Q463 (“Narrative D”) frag. 1 ln. 1: ‫ויזכור אל את דברו‬. 31 Smith, DJD XIX, p. 199: “ ...waw is the preferred reading.” However ‫“( רקמה‬embroi-dered garment”) in the plene would be ‫ריקמה‬, in which case one might also translate “their being empty”; however, a preposition would also be expected -‫ב‬. Smith, p. 201 refers to Ezekiel 16:10, 13 and 18 where Jerusalem is clothed in a ‫ ;רקמה‬see also 4QpIsaa 7–10 iii 24. 32 Perhaps ‫וינתנה‬, Smith does not reconstruct but translates: “he will give it”. See Smith, “4Q462,” pp. 64–65 for discussion on converted and unconverted imperfects. 33 The Tetragram is represented twice in this fragment with four dots (cf. ln. 12). 28 29

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57

the light was with them and [darkness] was upon us34 (10) [but behold,] the per[iod] of darkness [is passed], and the period of light has come, and it shall reign forever, (11) ] to I[s]rael, therefore let them sa[y: for among us was the people of the beloved Jaco[ob ] (12) [ ] and they laboured (e.g. served) and arose and cried to the Lord [ ] (13) [ ] and behold they were given to Egypt a second time, in the period of the kingdom, but they shall ar[ise ] (14) [ in]habitants of Philistia and Egypt [shall return] to a spoil and a ruin, they shall raise her up35[ (15) ] to the heights, to wickedness, in order that she receive uncleanness[ ] (16) [ ] and her harlotry, and shall be changed to splendour, and her menstruation, and her clothes [ ] (17) [ ] and what she did to her, so is the uncleanness of the c[ity36 (18) [ ] she hated as she was before she was built[37 ] (19) [ ] vac and He shall remember {Israel} Jerusalem the[

Rendering the tense of remembrance (i.e. past ln. 3, future ln. 19) is based upon observations that recollection of history is often used to reflect, or project, the pres-ent. In the case of 4Q462, the author in the present is considering the future based upon a historical survey. Mark Smith comments concerning this tendency: “Later apocalyptic literature included the Babylonian exile explicitly in its historiographi-cal surveys of past events (1 Enoch 89–90; 2 Apoc. Bar. 10–11; Sib. Or. 3.196–294; Tg. 1 Sam 2:1–10) and used it as a model for understanding the situation of Israel in the author’s time (T. Moses 3; cf. T. Judah 23:5; Ladder of Jacob 5:16–17).”38

‫ לבדו‬rather than ‫“( ממשלה לכדו‬they seized power”) makes more sense with ‫עִמוֹ‬, the absence of a conjunction in the first part of this line allows for a number of renderings. Recon-structing ‫ חושך‬at the end of the line. 35 Reconstructing: ‫ויחזרו יו[שבי‬. 36 Reconstructing: ‫הע[ירה‬. 37 Smith, DJD XIX, p. 205 prefers the Nip‘al ‫ נ[שנאתה‬to the 3rd fem. sing. Qal perfect. Con-textually both are confusing and the Qal perfect has precedence (ln. 17). 38 Smith, DJD XIX, p. 207. 3 Maccabees 6 recounts a prayer on the lips of a priest named Eleazar, Egyptian slavery, captivity in the book of Daniel and Jonah are precursors to an allu-sion to Leviticus 26:44. This allusion to Leviticus is formulated as a plea that God “show the Gentiles (δειχήτω πᾶσιν ἔθνεσιν)”, followed shortly thereafter by: “just as you said, ‘not even when they were in the land of their enemies did I neglect them’”. 34

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Benjamin G. Wold

While Smith translates both occurrences of ‫ יזכור‬as future,39 lines 2–6 likely rec-ollected past events, such as Noah’s flood (lns. 1(?)-2). References to an embroi-dered robe (ln. 5) and slavery (ln. 6) may have recalled, perhaps metaphorically, Joseph and the original suffering in Egypt that threatened God’s promise to Israel, the patriarchs, and their future. Israel was delivered from Egypt and made to inherit the land (ln. 7). Lines 9–10 mark a change in periodisation both past and future. When the children of Israel were taken into captivity darkness ruled, but now a time has again come when God will remember – light has come and will reign forever. The second colon of line 11 recounts a time when Israel dwelt in the land. Contextually, line 12 would be suited to the past as a lesson for another genera-tion, which finds itself in what they view as an Egyptian-like captivity a second time.40 The time has now come, a period of light, and Israel will return; however, the city of Jerusalem is defiled and profaned. The final line (ln. 19) reminds that, despite Jerusalem’s uncleanness (cf. Jer. 2:23), God will not forget her. Indeed, her harlotry will be turned to splendour (ln. 16). e. 4Q504 1–2 v (“Words of the Luminaries a”) Imagery of the exodus event is re-appropriated and applied to a kind of exile in liturgical manuscript 4Q504 1–2 v (“Words of the Luminaries a”) as well.41 The wonders done in Egypt are alluded to throughout this manuscript (e.g. 1–2 ii lns. 11–12, 1–2 iii ln. 4) and ‫ זכר‬occurs several times.42 Words of the Luminaries a dates to approximately the mid- to late 2nd century BCE and is considered either to pre-date the “Essene” group and/or stem from a different sociological setting altogether.43 It is a liturgical work structured around prayers given on each of the 39

E.J. C. Tigchelaar and F. García Martínez, The Dead Sea Scroll Study Edition, vol. 2 (Lei-den: Brill, 1998) pp. 941–42 translate in the past tense. 40 Israel’s time in Egypt is described in Deuteronomy 23:8 as a sojourn (‫ )כי־גר היית‬and not captivity or exile. 41 M. Baillet, DJD VII. Words of the Luminaries is a liturgical work that was likely used at a daily at sunrise or sunset to mark the changing of heavenly luminaries. Days of the week or occur as do many issues related to calendar and Sabbaths. 42 The opening formula ‫ זכור אדוני‬is repeated several times in the document, almost every occurrence fragmented, see Falk, Daily, Sabbath, pp. 79–80. B. Nitzan observes that in 4Q504 ‫ זכור‬is earlier, orthographically, and other manuscripts of Words of the Luminaries spell: ‫זכורה‬, “The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Jewish Liturgy,” in J. R. Davila (ed.), Dead Sea Scrolls as the Background to Postbiblical Judaism and Early Christianity: Papers from an International Con-ference at St. Andrews 2001 (Leiden: Brill, 2001) p. 101. 43 Baillet, DJD VII, p. 137 on the date of the 4Q504: “L’écriture est une calligraphie asmon-criture est une calligraphie asmonéenne, qui peut dater des environs de 150 avant J.-C. Trois fois...”; see also E. G. Chazon, “Is Divrei Ha-me’orot a Sectarian Prayer?” in D. Dimant and U. Rappaport (eds.), The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research (Leiden: Brill, 1992) pp. 317; and Falk, Daily, Sabbath, pp. 61–63. Baillet, DJD VII, p. 137 on the provenance of Word of the Luminaries: “L’absence de caractére ‘sectaire’, la date de copie et la découverte à Qum-rân font alors penser au mouvement assidéen, dont les Esséniens furent les héritiers spirituels”;

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59

days of the week: “this is the prayer for the first day”; “this is the prayer for the second day”; etc. Fragment v lines 3–10 of this document read: ‫( ויעבודו אל נכר בארצם וגם ארצם‬3 ‫( שממה על אויביהמה כיא] נש[פכה חמתך‬4 ‫( וחרוני אפכה באש קנאתכה להחריבה‬5 ‫( מעובר ומשב בכול זואת לוא מאסתה‬6 ‫( בזרע יעקוב ולו געלתה את ישראל‬7 ‫( לכלותם להפר בריתכה אתם כיא אתה‬8 ‫כה‬ ‫( אל חי לבדכה ואין זולתכה ותזכור ברית‬9 ‫( אשר הוצאתנו לעיני הגוים ולוא עזבתנו‬10 (3) and they worshiped a foreign god in their land, and their land also is (4) a desolation because of their enemies, For Your rage was poured out, (5) and Your destroying anger in Your zealous fire, to lay it waste (6) from either passing through or dwelling. In all this you did not reject (7) the seed of Jacob, nor44 despise Israel (8) to destroy them or to invalidate your covenant with them. For You (9) are a living God, You alone, and there is none beside You, Remember your covenant! (10) For You brought us forth in the eyes of the nations, and did not abandon us.

These lines, like 4Q462, appeal to a past event in order to consider more recent exile. They describe the worship of a false god as leading Judea to suffer deso-lation at the hands of its enemies. The final lines of this fragment (lns. 17–21) turn from recitation of past deliverance to the present anguish and troubles of the author(s) (‫)ונבואה בצרות‬. They lament that they have not paid attention to God’s ways (ln. 21; cf. CD iii ln. 10 ‫אבדו בארצם בו שממה בו הבו באי הברית הראשנים ויס־‬ ‫א‬ ‫ ;גרו‬CD v ln. 21 ‫)ותישם הארץ‬. Elsewhere in Words of the Luminaries a (1–2 vi lns. 12–13) the author speaks about his distress and asks God to free his people from the nations. The author is concerned with confessing his sins as well as the sins of his forefathers. The language of these lines of Words of the Luminaries a alludes to Leviticus 26:43–46 (cf. CD i–iii). As discussed, Leviticus 26 is concerned with God remem-bering his covenant in reference to deliverance from Egypt. These verses of Leviti-cus 26 are reformulated in Words of the Luminaries a v 3–9 for at least two pur-Chazon, “Sectarian Prayer,” pp. 15–16 observes that nothing in the document is incompatible with “Yahad” origins and yet no distinct terminology point to this community; and Falk, Daily, Sabbath, p. 157 concludes that it did not originate with the “parent group” of the “Yahad” and suggests, plausibly, a socio-liturgical setting with connection to Levitical circles and ma’amadot services. 44 Reading ‫ולוא‬.

60

Benjamin G. Wold

poses. First, they serve as a type of thanksgiving to God. Whereas in Leviticus these words are made as a promise by God to Israel, in these lines the author(s) uses the passage to recount God’s faithfulness when they have been unfaithful.45 Second, and more importantly, fragment v is a prophetic fulfilment of Leviticus 26:43: “the land shall be forsaken (‫ )הארץ תעזב‬by them, making up for its Sab-bath years by being desolate (‫ )בהשמה‬of them, and they shall make up for their iniquity, because My statutes they rejected (‫ )מאסו‬and My laws their souls (‫)נפשם‬ despised (‫)גאלה‬.” Leviticus 26, like 4Q504 considered above, looks to the future on the one hand, while on the other it considers God’s redemptive work in the past. Leviticus 26:44–45 continues: “yet, even then, when they are in the land of their enemies (‫)בהיותם בארץ איביהם‬, I will not reject or despise them (‫)לא־מאסתים ולא־געלתים‬, so as to destroy them (‫)לכלתם‬, to invalidate My covenant with them (‫להפר בריתי‬ ‫)אתם‬, for I am the Lord their God; and I shall remember (‫ )וזכרתי‬in their favour the covenant with the ancients (‫)ראשונים‬, who I brought forth (‫ )הוצאתי־אתם‬from the land of Egypt in the eyes of all nations (‫)לעיני הגוים‬.” Words of the Luminar-iesa envisages that everything Leviticus 26 forewarned has come to pass, but God will redeem an elect group just as He redeemed Israel from Egypt. The author(s) represents those who undoubtedly enter into the role of the ‫“( נשארים‬remaining ones”; vs. 39; cf. CD i lns. 1–5), who confess their sins and are “rotting away” (‫ )ימקו‬because of their iniquities, which caused the desolation of their land. f. 4Q463 (“Narrative D”) 4Q463 1 (“Narrative D”) is a 4 line fragment, with no clear sectarian prove-nance, and quotes Leviticus 26:44 to remember and introduce mysteries (‫ננסת־‬ ‫)רות‬.46 Whereas contextually Leviticus 26:44–46 casts God as remembering His covenant and bringing Israel out of the land of Egypt, Narrative D remembers the covenant and the secrets opened to the addressees. These lines read:47 ] vacat ‫ ויזכור אל את דברו אשר אמר‬vacat ‫דמה‬°[ ‫בני ישראל לא[מור גם בהיותם בארצות אויביהמ]ה לא מאסתים‬ ]‫ולא געלתים לכלות[ם להפר בריתי וחסדי מהמה ויהי מלא‬ ‫חכמה לכול דורש ? [ נסתרות ואזניהמה פתח וישמעו ע]מקות‬

(1 (2 (3 (4

45 Elsewhere in 4Q504, in a column that recounts the mighty acts of God, language is used that likely alludes to acts like those wrought by God in Egypt. 1–2 vi: lines 6–7 “we have not rejected your trials and plagues (‫ ;)בנסוייכה ובנגיעיכה‬line 9 “so that we might tell of your mighty deeds (‫ ;)גבורתכה‬and line 10 “since you do wonders (‫ )נפלאות‬from eternity to eternity”. 46 A. Steudel, Der Midrasch zur Eschatologie aus der Qumrangemeinde (4QMidrEschata,b) (STDJ 13; Leiden, Brill, 1994) p. 53 see this fragment as a type of “Leviticus-paraphrase”: Eine Bibel-Paraphrase (Gen, Ex) existiert unter den Qumrantexten etwa in Gestalt von 4Q158. She also considers that this fragment belongs to 4Q174, but concludes on palaeographic grounds that it is not, p. 54. 47 Smith, DJD XIX, pp. 211–12.

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61

(1) ]vacat and God remembered His word, which He spoke vacat [ (2) to the children of Israel sa]ying: “also, when they were in the lands of their enemi[es I will not reject (3) nor spurn them so as to destroy] them to invalidate my covenant48 and my mercies from them and a messenger/angel shall (?)[49 (4) with wisdom for everyone who seeks] mysteries, and He opened their ears and they heard d[eep things...

The revelation of hidden matters in connection with remembrance is also present in the Damascus Document (iii ln. 14, see above; cf. 4Q401 14 ii ln 7, 17 ln. 4) and are described as appointed times and seasons. This fragment may reflect the author relating Leviticus 26 to the author(s) current situation and the myster-ies, similar to the Damascus Document, are given to a remnant. These myster-ies could describe festival and Sabbath times and, therefore, calendar; but may also imply more esoteric knowledge related to the nature of the cosmos. Indeed, the plausible reconstruction of ‫“( מלאך‬angel”) at the end of line 3 may indicate other-worldly wisdom. In the Hodayot (ix lns. 23–25) mention is made of an “engraved memory” (‫ ; ֶחרֶת זכרון‬cf. 4Q417 1 i lns. 14–15 ‫“ חרות החוק חקוק הפקודה‬engraved is the stat-ute and the visitations are ordained”) for all enduring periods (‫ )קצי נצח‬and the cycle of the number of years in all their appointed times (‫תקופות מספר שני עולם‬ ‫)בכול מועדיהם‬. These periods, cycles and times are said not to be hidden (‫לוא‬ ‫ )נסתרו‬or banished (‫ )ולא נעדרו‬from before the addressee. Preceding these lines in column iii, the establishment of the cosmos is described and the wisdom of God’s creative work is meditated upon. The orderly establishment of the deeds of heaven is related to the creation of humankind (iii lns. 8–9; ‫בתרם בראתם ידעתה‬ ‫ )מעשיהם‬and, later in the column (iii lns. 27 ff.), the deeds of the sons of Adam are described as having been preordained as well. Mystery language is applied to the ordering of the cosmos (ln. 11 ‫ ;בממשלותם מאורות לרזיהם‬lns. 12–13 ...‫כוכבים‬ ‫לרזיהם‬...‫זקים וברקים‬...‫ )רוחות סערה‬and the heavens are depicted as becoming holy angels (ln. 11 ‫)בהיותם למלאכי קודש‬. Column ix of the Hodayot relates memory, which is not hidden to the addressee, to the establishment of the cosmos and the behaviour of humankind. Narrative D appears to combine God’s remembrance of his covenant in Leviti-cus 26 with the mysteries of the cosmos: Sabbaths, cycles and seasons. Leviticus 48 The author(s) of 4Q501 (“Apocryphal Lamentation B”) call upon God to remember the “children of your covenant” (‫)זכור בני בריתכה‬, who are described variously as: those who have left their inheritance (‫ ;)עזובי נחלתכה‬desolate ones (‫ ;)שוממים‬shaken ones (‫ ;)מנודבים‬and abom-inations (‫)תועים‬. In their disgrace and suffering they appeal to God to cut off the seed of their persecutors from the sons of the covenant (‫ ;)ואל יהיה זרעמה מברית‬they have been surrounded by lying tongues (‫)לשון שקר‬. 49 Reconstructing ‫מלאך‬, Steudel, Der Midrasch, p. 55 suggests: “Am Ende kann vielleicht eine Form von ‫ מלאך‬ergänzt werden.”

62

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26:43 (‫)ותרץ את־שבתתיה‬, as we have seen, avails itself to introducing the subject of Sabbaths and times. Likewise, the combination of memory language, calen-drical issues and concealed matters are also present in the Damascus Document and the Hodayot. g. Summary We have seen then that in the Dead Sea Scrolls ‫ זכר‬is used on a number of occa-sions to recollect Egypt and the exodus. Similar to the Hebrew Bible, the story of God’s miracles leading Israel out of bondage serve as a source of thanksgiv-ing, blessing and exhortation for behaviour (4Q185 lns. 13–15; 4Q370 ii lns. 4– 9). The majority of compositions considered above may associate memory with the exodus, as observed in the Hebrew Bible; however, they adapt the imagery to fit with their own concerns – most often with exile. In the Damascus Document occurrences of memory are associated with the covenant and Egypt, but are inter-ested in the preservation of a remnant (CD i–iii). In these instances, slavery in Egypt is recalled as an example of a type of exile and God remembers His cov-enant with ancient ones (‫ )ראשנים‬by preserving for himself an elect community. In the Damascus Document language from Leviticus 26:43–46 is integrated at times into the account to describe the results of Israel’s unfaithfulness and God’s faithfulness (e.g. CD vi ln. 2). A significant development on the theme of memory and Egypt takes place in 4Q462 and 4Q504. In 4Q462 is the rare phrase “they were given to Egypt a sec-ond time”. Although historical surveys are well-known departures for instruc-tion, praise or lament, 4Q462 uses the imagery of slavery in Egypt and applies it to captivity and exile. 4Q504 v thanks God for His faithfulness in remember-ing his covenant within a context rich in allusions to Leviticus 26:44–45. The author(s) conceives of his community as living in the time about which Leviti-cus 26 warned. Undoubtedly, God’s redemptive acts in Egypt are in view in both 4Q462 and 4Q504 v. 4Q463 1 appears to associate a quotation of Leviticus 26:44 with making known concealed matters. On account of the fragmentary context, no definite interpretation of these lines is possible. However, a plausible understanding of this fragment is that God’s remembrance of the covenant in several Dead Sea Scrolls, especially when Leviticus 26 is in view, is associated with exile and return from captivity. One reason for the present hardship is associated with Israel’s abandon-ment of the covenant. The penitent and repentant remnant is redeemed by God, just as the children of Israel were delivered from Egypt. Knowledge of concealed mat-ters, which should be associated with a proper understanding of the cosmos and calendar, is part and parcel of righteous behaviour for the remnant community. Recollection of the exodus is often used to describe communities who are somehow in exile. Based upon biblical allusions Israel is depicted as having

Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos

63

sinned, been taken captive again (and/or remains in exile) and anticipates deliv-erance similarly to the way the children of Israel were led out of Egypt. The doc-uments discussed above date to a period well after return from Babylonian cap-tivity took place. However, rather than referring to return from Babylonian exile straightforwardly, exilic language is likely applied to issues about the legitimacy of the Jerusalem cult and ideas about orthodoxy. Within the Hebrew Bible itself the views of the Chronicler (2 Chron. 36) appear to be different from what is found in Haggai and Zechariah. 2 Chronicles appears to suggest that the 70 years of Jer-emiah’s prophecy are over, while Haggai’s and Zechariah’s own audience appears to wonder if the non-prosperity of Judah suggests that exile is ongoing. Debate about the status of the exile continues throughout the Second Temple period.50 Bondage in Egypt is interpreted as “exile” in Egypt and is not necessarily applied to Babylonian exile in the past, but exile in the present.

III. Remembrance of Creation and Cosmos It has been shown that in both the Hebrew Bible and Dead Sea Scrolls memory language occurs most often in association to Egypt and the exodus. In the scrolls, other themes such as cosmology are also present as seen in Narrative D. In the fragment, in addition to reflection upon the exodus, covenant, and exile, hidden matters (‫נסתרות‬, a possible reference to cosmic order and appointed times) are also considered. Cosmology, however, plays an even larger role in other scrolls. Integral to their vision of world order are reflections upon creation. Cosmol-ogy and creation, as themes related to memory, are significant expansions on the Hebrew Bible. a. 1QSerekh haYahad In 1QSerekh haYahad column x a series of blessings to the Creator occur and, in line 5, creation is referred to as a ‫“( זכרון‬memorial”). Column x lines 1–8, which shall be called Hymn of Creation here, is different from the preceding nine col-umns because it is not a detailed collection of teachings about how to live within the monastic community, but rather a poetic expression of thanksgiving. Jacob Licht introduces this chapter with the following comments:

50 The legitimacy of the temple establishment divided many Jewish communities, as attested in a broad range of literature, at different times for different reasons. Compositions that opposed legitimacy could have been accepted by the “sectarian” community due simply to this position. My interpretation of Haggai and Zechariah as presented here may be debated, see for example comments by J. Kesler, “Building the Second Temple: Questions of Time, Text and History of Haggai 1:1–5,” in JSOT 27 (2002): 243–56.

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Benjamin G. Wold

“The last chapter of Serekh haYahad is not like the body of the book. Serekh haYahad is an anthology of rules and instruction, the writing is in a prose style, or the language is prover-bial, and it sets forth prose and poetry; and even in this last chapter is a song of praise and thanksgiving to creation. Serekh haYahad generally speaks about the men of the commu-nity or about a member of the community, in the third part, in this final song, a man of the community speaks about himself in the first part and proclaims his love to the creator and His work. In this combination of a song of praise, in addition to rules, it is possible to see to some extent the establishment of the last command in the preceding chapter: the under-standing one is commanded there to always bless creation.”51

While 1QS is a definitive document among sectarian works, the final columns (x– xi), as well as the Treatise on the Two Spirits (iii ln. 13–iv ln 26), belong to the first stages of redaction and therefore reflect a non-sectarian theology.52 The final lines of column ix (lns. 24–26), referred to above by Licht, are thought by some scholars to belong to column x.53 The Hymn of Creation considers times and periods which God has ordained. The universe has been constructed and ordered in a very precise manner, concern-ing both how time passes and how humanity should live in accordance with its cir-cuits. The division of luminaries, days and nights in Genesis 1 are the beginning point for considering calendrical issues and, thus, festivals and holy days.54 The final line of column ix and first eight lines of column x are represented and translated below. The reconstruction and divisions are those of Licht,55 and while 9 lines are transcribed, the comments to follow will be limited to the third stanza (lns. 5b–6a).

51 J. Licht, The Rule Scroll: A Scroll from the Wilderness of Judaea-1QS, 1QSa, 1QSb: Text, Introduction and Commentary (Jerusalem: Bialik, 1957) p. 201 [Hebrew, translation mine]. 52 S. Metso, The Textual Development of the Qumran Community Rule (STDJ 21; Leiden: Brill, 1997) p. 108 writes: “The final psalm corresponding to 1QS X–XI did not belong to the composition in the first stages of redaction, either. In 4QSe it was replaced by the calendric text 4QOtot ...” 53 See M. Weise, Kultzeiten und kultischer Bundesschluss in der Ordensregel vom Toten Meer (SPB 3; Leiden: Brill, 1961) pp. 5-7. The relationship between these columns in earlier stages of redaction has been the subject of some attention. Among those who are in favour of viewing the end of column ix and column x as originally belonging together: J. van der Ploeg, “Le ‘Manuel de Discipline’ des rouleaux de la Mer Morte,” in BO 8 (1951) pp. 114–15; J. T. Milik, “Manuale Disciplinae,” in VD 29 (1951) p. 153; J. Murphey-O’Connor, “La genèse lit-téraire de la Règle de la Communauté,” in RB 76 (1969) pp. 529–30. This view has been rejected others, see for example A. R. C. Leaney, The Rule of Qumran and Its Meaning: Introduction, Translation and Commentary (London: SCM Press, 1966) pp. 115–16. 54 See 4Q319 (“Otot”) iv lns. 10–11: ‫להאירה בארבעה בשבת בני גמול מערב עד בוקר ביסוד‬ ‫הבריאה‬. 55 Licht, The Rule Scroll, pp. 208–211; Weise, Kultzeiten, p. 2 following Licht, separates 1QS x lns. 1–8 to begin his discussion of the manuscript, however, he also includes ix ln. 26. The inclusion of ix ln. 26 here does not represent a judgement that it belongs with column x (and xi) in an earlier redacted form; but rather in the present form of 1QS they belong together as ix ln. 26 clearly introduces the Hymn of Creation.

‫‪65‬‬

‫‪Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos‬‬

‫)‪] (26‬בצרה וצו[ קה יברך עושיו‬ ‫ובכול אשר יהיה יס[ר חסדיו‬ ‫ותרומת] שפתים יברכנו‬ ‫]‪[1‬‬ ‫)‪] (1‬אברכנו[ עם קצים אשר חקקא‬ ‫ברשית ממשלת אור עם תקופתו‬ ‫ובהאספו אל מעון חוקו‬ ‫ברשית )‪ (2‬אשמורי חושך‬ ‫כי פתח אוצרו וישתהו עלת ובתקופתו‬ ‫עם האספו מפני אור‬ ‫באופיע )‪ (3‬מאורות מזבול קודש‬ ‫עם האספם למעון כבוד‬ ‫‪56‬‬

‫]‪[2‬‬ ‫במבוא מועדים לימי חודש‬ ‫יחד תקופתם עם )‪ (4‬מסרותם זה לזה‬ ‫בהתחדשם יום גדול קודש קודשים‬ ‫ואות למפתח חסדי עולם‬ ‫לראשי )‪ (5‬מועדים בכול קץ נהיה‬ ‫]‪[3‬‬ ‫ברשית ירחים למועדים‬ ‫וימי קודש בתוכנם לזכרון במועדים‬ ‫)‪ (6‬תרומת שפתים הברכנו‬ ‫כחוק חרות לעד‬ ‫]‪[4‬‬ ‫בראשי שנים בתקופת מועדיהם‬ ‫בהשלם חוק )‪ (7‬תכונם‬ ‫יום משפטו זה לזה‬ ‫מועד קציר לקיץ‬ ‫ומועד זרע למועד דשא‬ ‫]‪[5‬‬ ‫מועדי שנים לשבועיהם‬ ‫)‪ (8‬וברוש שבועיהם למועד דרור‬ ‫ובכול היותי חוק חרות בלשוני‬ ‫לפרי תהלה ומנת שפתי‬ ‫‪(26) [In troubles and oppre]ssion he will bless his maker,‬‬ ‫‪and in everything he will tell of His mercies,‬‬ ‫‪[and with an offering] of his lips he will bless Him.‬‬ ‫‪.‬אל חקק ‪Perhaps to be read:‬‬

‫‪56‬‬

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Benjamin G. Wold

[1] (1) [I will bless Him] with the periods that he has established, in the beginning of the dominion of light, with its circuits and in its gathering to its decreed habitation. In the beginning of (2) the watches of darkness, for He will open His storehouse and place it above and in its circuit, with its gathering in before the light, in the appearance (3) of luminaries from the holy dwelling-place, with their gathering to the habitation of glory. [2] In the coming of the seasons in the days of the new moon, together their circuits with (4) their bonds one to another, when they are renewed, it is a great day, a holy of holies, and a sign for the opening of eternal mercies, at the heads (5) of seasons, in every period that shall be. [3] At the beginning of months for seasons, and holy days as they are established, are a memorial in their seasons, (6) an offering of the lips I shall bless Him, according to an engraved statute forever. [4] At the head of years by the determinations of their seasons, when the statute (7) of their establishment is completed, a day of His decree, one for another, a season of harvest for summer, and a season of sowing for the season of herbage. [5] seasons of years for their weeks, (8) at the head of their weeks for the period of release, In all of my being: an engraved statute upon my tongue, fruits of praise, a portion of my lips.

The Hymn of Creation blesses God for establishing seasons and periods by which the faithful might order their prayers, observe festival days, perhaps sacrifices, as well as Jubilees and Sabbath years. The stanzas are concerned with: (1) the transition between night and the light of day [1]; (2) months/new moons [2]; (3) the beginning of months, season and holy days [3]; and (4) weeks of years (i.e. seven-year cycles) as well as praises by the author [5]. These concerns may reflect interest specifically in the solar calendar of the community, its summer solstice and winter equinox and, indeed, the interconnectedness of the heavens and the earth.57 57 Weise, Kultzeiten, p. 55 summarises the content of the Hymn of Creation and details the Kultorgnung and times, which are concerned with: “(1) Die ‘Grenzzeiten’ des Tages, die am Morgen zwischen dem Anbruch der Dämmerung und dem Anfgang der Sonne, am Abend zwi-schen Sonnenuntergang und Eintritt der Nacht liegen; (2) die ‘Schalttage’ des solaren Jahres,

Memory in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Exodus, Creation and Cosmos

67

Stanza three describes the “beginning of months” and “holy days” as remind-ers of the times of year. Praise and blessing to God for these memorials follows and either the “offering of the lips” or, far more likely, the memorials are an eter-nally engraved statute. While ‫ ברשית ירחים‬is easily identifiable as the “beginning of each month”, it is slightly less apparent what the “holy days” refer to. Weise’s identification of these days as Sabbaths is convincing. Weeks may be counted with relative ease and used to calculate year times and, thus, serve as memorials. Con-cerning enumeration, in the solar calendar the months often have exactly 30 days each.58 Weise considers the connection between these holy days and Sabbaths, especially the second commandment of the Decalogue (Ex. 20:8; cf. Gen. 2:3; Dt. 5:12; Neh. 9.14).59 The book of Jubilees emphasises the Sabbath (2.17–33; 50.9–11) and in one instance, after Noah’s flood, Noah ordains for himself feasts of remembrance forever and a heavenly tablet is written with periods recorded (Jub. 6.28–31). These references emphasise the holiness of the Sabbath and in Jubilees 50:9 it is even called a “holy day”. b. 1/4QInstruction Instruction (4Q415–418, 423; 1Q26) is another non-Essene document that uses memory language in relation to creation. 4Q417 1 i is a foundational column in the document’s theology. The addressee is exhorted throughout the document, nowhere more so than in 4Q417 1 i, to understand the ‫“( רז נהיה‬mystery of being”; lns. 2, 8, 18; cf. ‫ רזי פלא‬ln. 13), which relates the order of creation to the behaviour of the addressees. The column’s fragmentary beginning sets the discourse that fol-lows in a context of both past and future (ln. 3): “gaze upon the mystery of being, and the deeds of old, on what has been and what shall be (‫והבט ברז נהיה ומעשי‬ ‫”)קדם למה נהיה ומה נהיה‬. On the one hand, visitation and judgement is emphasised (e.g. ln. 7 ‫פקודה‬, ‫ )קצי עולם‬in the context of knowing good and evil; on the other, the addressee is encouraged to walk according to his formation and is told that (ln. 11–12a) “in the purity of understanding the mysteries of His plan were made known (‫ ;ובכושר מבינות נודעו נותרי מחשבתו‬cf. CD iii lns. 13 ff.).” Throughout the column creation is the basis upon which one understands divisions, should learn to live in the present and even understand periods of visitation.

die die Anfänge der Jahreszeiten festlegen und den Solstitien und Äquinoktien entsprechen; (3) die Monatsanfänge auf Grund ihrer Festlegung durch die solaren Jahres festgelegt sind; (5) die Jahresanfänge, die auf den beiden Äquinoktien liegen (Die Solstinien als die beiden anderen Jahrespunkte werden nochmals als Ausgangspunkte der Jahreszeiten genannt); (6) die Sabbat-jahre; and (7) die Jobeljahare.” [Format mine] 58 Weise, Kultzeiten, p. 48 explains: “Die Fixierung der Sabbate geschieht vielmehr von den durch die Wendepunkte bestimmten Jahreszeiten aus: Jede Jahreszeit umfasst genau 91 Tage (3 Monate zu je 30 Tagen zuzüglich des einen Tages, der auf den Wendepunkt der Sonne fällt mit 13 Wochen).” 59 Weise, Kultzeiten, pp. 48–49.

68

Benjamin G. Wold

4Q417 1 i line 14, preceding the reference to the book of memorial, the word

‫ זכרון‬occurs in a fragmentary context. Lines 12–15 read:60 ‫מחשבתו עם התהלכו] ת[מים] בכול מ[עשיו אלה שחר תמיד והתבונן] בכו[ל‬ ‫תוצאותמה ואז תדע בכבוד ע]וזו ע[ם רזי פלאו וגבורות מעשיו אתה‬ ‫ כי[ בא חרות חוקכה וחקוק כול הפקודה‬61‫מבין רוש פעלתכה בזכרון הע] ת‬ ‫כי חרות מחוקק לאל על כול ע]וו[נ]ו[ת בני שות וספר זכרון כתוב לפניו‬

(12 (13 (14 (15

(12) (mysteries of) His plan, with walking perfectly in all His deeds, seek these always, and understand all (13) their sources, and then you shall know the glory of His power, with the mysteries of His wonders and the might of His deeds. You, (14) O understanding one, your work is poor62 in the memory of time (?), »for] it came« 63 engraved is your statute and ordained are all visitations (15) for engraved are the ordinances to God, about all the [iniquities of the] sons of Sheth, and a book of memorial is written before Him

60

D. J. Harrington and J. Strugnell, DJD XXXIV, p. 151. Harrington and Strugnell, DJD XXXIV, p. 161 comment: “For a supplement like ‫שלום כי‬ ‫בא‬, the space would perhaps be somewhat tight, though the thought would fit well, with a noun like ‫ שלום‬as an antecedent to ‫[בא‬. Our initial restoration was ‫ ;זכרון העת כי בא‬this fitted the space and the traces well, but ‫ בא‬requires a masculine noun, which ‫ עת‬rarely is.” Their initial reconstruction is far more plausible; G. J. Botterweck, H. Ringgren and H.-J. Fabry (eds.), Theo-logical Dictionary of the Old Testament, vol. xi (Grand Rapids/Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2001) pp. 443–44 write: “ ...note that the coming of the time referred to by [‫ ]עת‬is generally expressed by the verb – ‫( בוא‬e.g. Isa. 13:22; Jer. 27:7; 46:21; 49:8 [hiphil]; 50:27, 31; 51:33; Ezk. 7:7, 12; Hag. 1:2)...”. ‫ עת‬is often used at Qumran in calendrical passages (e.g. CD x lns. 14–15, 1QHa xii lns. 7–8). C. Werman, “What is the Book of Hagu,” in Collins, et al. (eds.), Sapiential Per-spectives: Wisdom Literature in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (STDJ 51; Leiden: Brill, 2004) p. 135 independently comes to the same conclusion. 62 ‫ פעלה‬is typically translated as “work,” “wage,” or “result” in the Dead Sea Scrolls (e.g. 1QS iii ln. 16; 1QHa vii ln. 22; 4Q436 1a+bi ln. 8); ‫רש‬, ‫ ריש‬and ‫ רוש‬occur frequently in Instruc-tion manuscripts, most often as “poor,” sometimes as “head,” and never as an imperative “inherit” (see esp. 4Q416 2 iii). The poverty of the addressee is a significant motif in the document and the phrase ‫רש אתה‬/‫ ריש‬has drawn significant attention, see my “Metaphorical Poverty in Musar leMevin” in JJS 58/1 (2007): 140–153. 63 Werman, “Book of Hagu,” p. 135 reconstructs and translates line 14: ‫מבין >ד