Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures III: Comprising the Contents of Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, Vol. 6 9781463214821

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES I I I

PERSPECTIVES O N HEBREW SCRIPTURES AND ITS CONTEXTS

3

Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures III Comprising the Contents of Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, vol. 6

EDITED BY EHUD BEN Z V I

VOLUME I I I

% G O R G I A S PRESS

2008

First Gorgias Press Edition, 2008 Copyright ® 2008 by Gorgias Press LLC All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of Gorgias Press LLC. Published in the United States of America by Gorgias Press LLC, New Jersey

ISBN 978-1-59333-976-0 ISSN 1935-6897

1 GORGIAS PRESS

46 Orris Ave., Piscataway, NJ 08854 USA www.gorgiaspress.com

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standards. Printed in the United States of America

In Memory of Terry Butler

TABLE OF CONTENTS

VOL. 6 (2006) The Core Story in the Prologue-Epilogue of the Book of Job Aron Pinker Chronicles and The Chronicler: A Response to I. Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian: Studies in the Chronicler, His Time, Place, and Writing Gary N. Knoppers (ed.) Introduction Gary N. Knoppers, Guest Editor Comments Ehud Ben Zvi Comments Robert L. Hubbard, Jr Comments Ralph W. Klein Comments Gary N. Knoppers Comments Mark A. Throntveit History, Historiography, Historical Evaluation, and CredibilityChronicles in Its Context: A Response to Reviews of An Ancient Israelite Historian: Studies in the Chronicler, His Time, Place, and Writing Isaac Kalimi v

1

29 30 32 43 48 55 66

70

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PERSPECTIVES O N HEBREW SCRIPTURES

Lex Talionis in Exod 21:22-25: Its Origin and Context Yung Suk Kim

99

The State of the Field of Hebrew Bible Study: In Conversation with John J. Collins, The Bible After Babel: Historical Criticism in a Postmodern Age (Eerdmans, 2005) David M. Carr (ed.) 113 Introductory Remarks John J. Collins 114 The Bible After Babel, Indeed David M. Carr Brief Comments on John Collins's The Bible After Babel F. W. Dobbs-Allsop My Response to the Bible after Babel Amy Kalmanofsky

118 123 129

Evil and the Disruption of Order: A Structural Analysis of the Acrostics in the First Book of Psalms Ronald Benun 133 "You Shall Not Abhor an Edomite, for He is Your Brother": The Tradition of Esau and the Edomite Genealogies from an Anthropological Perspective Juan Manuel Tebes 175 On the elusiveness and malleability of "Israel" Silvio Sergio Scatolini Apostolo 217 Nahum and the Greek Tradition on Nineveh's Fall Aron Pinker 247 Why Does Eleazar Sprinkle The Red Cow Blood? Making Sense of a Biblical ritual William K. Gilders 267 The Formation and Intention of the Haggai-Zechariah Corpus Jakob Wohrle 287 Issues in the Linguistic Analysis of a Dead Language, with Particular Reference to Ancient Hebrew Robert Holmstedt 303

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Vll

REVIEWS VOL. 6 ( 2 0 0 6 )

John

H. Hayes, ed., HEBREW INTERPRETATION Reviewed by Stephen D . Ryan, O . P

BIBLE:

HISTORY

OF 333

E.J. REVELL, THE DESIGNATION OF THE INDIVIDUAL: EXPRESSIVE USAGE IN BIBLICAL NARRATIVE Reviewed by Stephen G. Dempster 335 DANIEL L. SIMUNDSON, HOSEA, JOEL, AMOS, OBADIAH, JONAH, MICAH Reviewed by Paul Evans 340 Peter W . Flint and Patrick D . Miller, eds., with the assistance of A. Brunell and R . Roberts, THE BOOK OF PSALMS: COMPOSITION AND RECEPTION Reviewed by Tyler F. Williams 342 Louis Stulman, JEREMIAH Reviewed by B o b Becking

347

IAN YOUNG, ED. BIBLICAL HEBREW: STUDIES IN CHRONOLOGY AND TYPOLOGY Reviewed by Agustinus Gianto 350 RUTH FIDLER, "DREAMS SPEAK FALSELY"? DREAM THEOPHANIES IN THE BIBLE: THEIR PLACE IN ANCIENT ISRAELITE FAITH AND TRADITIONS Reviewed by Shaul Bar 353 MARTIN KESSLER, ED., READING THE BOOK OF JEREMIAH: A SEARCH FOR COHERENCE Reviewed by Carolyn J . Sharp 355 ENRIQUE NARDONI, RISE UP, O JUDGE: A STUDY OF JUSTICE IN THE BIBLICAL WORLD Reviewed by Gale A. Yee 359 MATTHIAS HENZE, ED., B I B L I C A L I N T E R P R E T A T I O N A T Q U M R A N

Reviewed by Eileen Schuller

361

RUTH FIDLER, "DREAMS SPEAK FALSELY"? DREAM THEOPHANIES IN THE BIBLE: THEIR PLACE IN ANCIENT ISRAELITE FAITH AND TRADITIONS Reviewed by Scott Noegel 364

Vili

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

Frank A n t h o n y Spina, THE FAITH OF THE OUTSIDER: EXCLUSION AND INCLUSION IN THE BIBLICAL STORY Reviewed by Andrea K. D i Giovanni 369 Ulla

Susanne Koch, SECRETS OF EXTISPICY. THE CHAPTER MULTABILTU OF THE BABYLONIAN EXTISPICY SERIES AND NISIRTI BARITI TEXTS MAINLY FROM ASSURBANIPAL'S LIBRARY Reviewed by Scott Noegel 372

DAVID PENCHANSKY, TWILIGHT OF THE GODS: POLYTHEISM IN THE HEBREW BIBLE Reviewed by Michael S. Heiser, 375 TERENCE E . FRETHEIM, G O D A N D W O R L D I N T H E O L D T E S T A M E N T :

A RELATIONAL THEOLOGY OF CREATION Reviewed by J . Richard Middleton

378

ROLF RENDTORFF, THE CANONICAL HEBREW BIBLE: A THEOLOGY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT. Reviewed by Stephen Dempster 381 NATHAN

MACDONALD,

DEUTERONOMY

AND

THE

MEANING

'MONOTHEISM' Reviewed by William S. Morrow

OF

385

BRUCE K . WALTKE, T H E B O O K O F P R O V E R B S , C H A P T E R S 1 - 1 5

Reviewed by Michael Carasik

388

RICHARD S . H E S S , S O N G O F S O N G S

Reviewed by Jennifer Pfenniger

391

STEPHEN L. COOK, THE SOCIAL ROOTS OF BIBLICAL YAHWISM Reviewed by Katherine M . Hayes ANDREW G .

VAUGHN AND ANN E . KILLEBREW, EDS., J E R U S A L E M

BIBLE AND ARCHAEOLOGY: THE FIRST TEMPLE PERIOD Reviewed by Carl S. Ehrlich

396 IN

399

LISBETH S. FRIED, THE PRIEST AND THE GREAT KING: TEMPLEPALACE RELATIONS IN THE PERSIAN EMPIRE Reviewed by Jeremiah Cataldo 407 JAN A. WAGENAAR, ORIGIN AND TRANSFORMATION ANCIENT ISRAELITE FESTIVAL CALENDAR Reviewed by William K. Gilders

OF THE 411

MARVIN A . SWEENEY, T H E P R O P H E T I C L I T E R A T U R E

Reviewed by Joyce Rilett W o o d

413

TABLE OF CONTENTS

IX

N i c k W y a t t , THE MYTHIC MIND: ESSAYS ON COSMOLOGY AND RELIGION IN UGARITIC AND OLD TESTAMENT LITERATURE

Reviewed by Mark S. Smith

416

L i n d a M . D a y , ESTHER

Reviewed by Gerald A. Klingbeil

419

WILLIAM G . DEVER, DID GOD HAVE A WIFE? ARCHAEOLOGY AND FOLK RELIGION IN ANCIENT ISRAEL

Reviewed by Steve Wiggins

422

KENTON L . SPARKS, ANCIENT TEXTS FOR THE STUDY OF THE HEBREW BIBLE: A GUIDE TO THE BACKGROUND LITERATURE

Reviewed by Mark S. Smith

425

ELIOTT RABIN, UNDERSTANDING THE HEBREW BIBLE: A READER'S GUIDE

Reviewed by Shaul Bar Marc Zvi Brettler, HOW TO READ THE BIBLE Reviewed by Alex Jassen

428 431

RALPH W . KLEIN, 1 CHRONICLES: A COMMENTARY

Reviewed by Steven L. McKenzie

434

T . A . PERRY, THE HONEYMOON IS OVER: JONAH'S ARGUMENT WITH GOD

Reviewed by Barbara Green Ehud Ben Zvi, HOSEA Reviewed by Yair Hoffman

436 439

DAVID TOSHIO TSUMURA, CREATION AND DESTRUCTION: A REAPPRAISAL OF THE CHAOSKAMPF THEORY IN THE OLD TESTAMENT

Reviewed by Karljtirgen G. Feuerherm,

445

TERENCE E. FRETHEIM, GOD AND W O R L D IN THE OLD TESTAMENT: A RELATIONAL THEOLOGY OF CREATION REVIEWED BY WILLIAM H . IRWIN, C S B 448

Marjo Korpel and Josef Oesch, eds. LAYOUT MARKERS IN BIBLICAL MANUSCRIPTS AND UGARITIC TABLETS

Reviewed by Wesley Hu

450

WALTER BRUEGGEMANN, THE BOOK THAT BREATHES NEW LIFE: SCRIPTURAL AUTHORITY AND BIBLICAL THEOLOGY REVIEWED BY CARLUCI DOS SANTOS 452

X

Roy

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

E. Gane, CULT AND CHARACTER: PURIFICATION OFFERINGS, DAY OF ATONEMENT, AND THEODICY Reviewed by Corinna Kôrting 454

Leo Perdue, RECONSTRUCTING OLD TESTAMENT THEOLOGY: AFTER THE COLLAPSE OF HISTORY Reviewed by Dale Patrick 457 Michael Avioz, NATHAN'S ORACLE INTERPRETERS Reviewed by David Bergen

(2 SAMUEL 7) AND ITS 460

Irmtraud Fischer, WOMEN WHO WRESTLED WITH GOD: BIBLICAL STORIES OF ISRAEL'S BEGINNINGS Reviewed by Amanda W . Benckhuysen 463 Eileen M. Schuller, THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS: WHAT HAVE W E LEARNED? Reviewed by Jean Duhaime 465 Andrei A. Orlov, THE ENOCH-METATRON TRADITION Reviewed by Eva Mroczek

468

Carol Meyers, EXODUS Reviewed by William H . Irwin, C.S.B

472

PREFACE The present publication includes all the articles and reviews published electronically in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures vol. 6 (2006). A companion including volume 7 (2007) will be published in 2008 and from then on, every year a hard copy version of the entire contents of the volume of the preceding year will appear in the present series. The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures provides freely available, prompt, academically responsible electronic publication of articles and reviews in the area defined by its title. By doing so, it fulfills important academic needs. It successfully disseminates knowledge and contributes to the creation of new knowledge through discursive interactions in ways that are not limited by a person's ability to access recent scholarship. As such it opens increased possibilities for scholars in Third World countries, public libraries anywhere, graduate students, and interested public. In addition, it is the policy of the Journal to include, and disseminate not only contributions of established scholars but also appropriate contributions of scholars in their first stages in the field. JHS's authors and readers have come from different countries and as such it contributes to a scholarly conversation that is not restricted by geographical boundaries. The Journal has grown substantially in the number of published contributions through the years, but it is still run in the main by volunteers. The journal is and has always been a demanding work of love. It is in this context that I want to mention its editorial board for 2006. It consists of Adele Berlin, Philip R. Davies, Lyle Eslinger, Michael V. Fox, M. Pat Graham, Gary N. Knoppers, Robert A. Kugler, Francis Landy, Niels Peter Lemche, Hindy Najman, Scott B. Noegel, Gary A. Rendsburg, and Gene M. Tucker. I thank all of them. John McLaughlin serves as Review Editor since January 2004. He deserves much praise and all the credit for the excellent reviews included here. I am particularly thankful to him and so should the readers of the journal. XI

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Katie Stott prepared the present manuscript and many of the electronic articles. Her careful and thoughtful contribution permeates this volume. I would like to thank the Arts Resource Centre, the Faculty of Arts, and the dept. of History and Classics at the University of Alberta for their continuous support. It is a pleasure to acknowledge a grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities Council of Canada, and the willingness of the Library and Archives Canada (an organization that combines the collections and services of the former National Library of Canada and the former National Archives of Canada) to archive the journal. All of them contribute much to the success of JHS. I would like to thank George Kiraz for agreeing to publish the printed version of JHS through Gorgias Press, for understanding the importance of maintaining the freely available electronic version of the journal, and for his own role in the development of open-access electronic academic journals. As I complete this preface and go over the many explicit thanks—and in my mind also those that are implicit here, or minimally mentioned—I can only think of how well they reflect the basic fact that the continuous existence of this open access journal and its present publication in hard copy are the result of a work of love carried out by and through so many willing hands. This volume, however, is dedicated to the memory of Terry Butler who passed away on August 20, 2007, at age 54. He was the Director of Research Computing in Arts at the University of Alberta, and the Technical Advisor of the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures since its inception in 1996. He was a (practical) visionary and a pioneer who fostered the application of information technology to teaching and research in the Humanities and Social Sciences. He played a crucial role in the establishment of the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, and supported it ever since. Even in sickness, he was interested in the implementation of additional features to the journal's site. The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures and its readers owe him a great debt of gratitude. Ehud Ben Zvi University of Alberta, General Editor, Journal of Hebrew Scriptures

ABBREVIATIONS AAR AB ABD ABRL ADPV ANES ANET

AOAT AOTC ASOR ATD BA BAR BASOR BDB

BEATAJ Bib Biblnt BibOr BJRL BJS BKAT

American Academy of Religion Anchor Bible A nchor Bible Dictionary Anchor Bible Reference Library Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins A ncient Near Eastern Studies Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (ed. J. B. Pritchard (3d ed.; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969) Alter Orient und Altes Testament Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries American School of Oriental Research Das Alte Testament Deutsch Biblical Archaeologist Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research F. Brown, S. R. Driver, and C. A. Briggs. A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907) Beiträge zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des antiken Judentum Biblica Biblical Interpretation Biblica et orientalia Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester Brown Judaic Studies Biblischer Kommentar, Altes Testament. Edited by M. Noth and H. W. Wolff. Xlll

XIV

B.T. BZAW CBQ CNEB CHANE COS DJD EI FAT FRLANT GAT GKG

GTJ HAR HBS HS HSM HTR HUCA IAA IBC ICC IEJ IOSCS JANES JA OS JBL JBQ JETS JHS

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

Babylonian Talmud Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly Cambridge Commentary on the New English Bible Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Context of Scripture Discoveries in the Judaean Desert Eretz Israel Forschungen zum Alten Testament Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Gundrisse zum Alten Testament Gesenius' Hebrew Grammar. Edited by E. Kautzsch. Translated by A. E. Cowley. 2d. ed. Oxford, 1910. Grace Theological Journal Hebrew A nnual R eview Herder's Biblical Studies Hebrew Studies Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Israel Antiquities Authority International Bible Commentary International Critical Commentary Israel Exploration Journal International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Biblical Literature Jewish Bible Quarterly Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of Hebrew Scriptures

ABBREVIATIONS

JJS JNES JNSL JPS JQR JSOT JSOTSup JSS JTS KAT LCL LXX MSIA MT NEAEHL NEchtB NCB NCBC NICOT NIV NJB NJPS NJPSV NRSV OIP OTG OTL OtSt PEQ RSV SBAB SBL

XV

Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages Jewish Publication Society Jewish Quarterly Review Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series Journal of Semitic Studies Journal of Theological Studies Kommentar zum Alten Testament Loeb Classical Library Septuagint Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University Masoretic Text The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land Neue Echter Bibel New Century Bible New Century Bible Commentary New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Version New Jerusalem Bible Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures: The New JPS Translation According to the Traditional Hebrew Text New Jewish Publication Society Translation New Revised Standard Version Oriental Institute Publications Old Testament Guides Old Testament Library Oudtestamentische Studien Palestine Exploration Quarterly Revised Standard Version Stuttgarter biblische Aufsatzbände Society of Biblical Literature

XVI

SBLDS SHCANE SJOT SSN SubBi TA TBC TDOT

ThStKr VT VTSup WBC WMANT WTJ ZAH ZA W

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

SBL Dissertation Series Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament Studia semitica neerlandica Subsidia biblica Tel Aviv Torch Bible Commentary G. J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren (eds.) Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 1974-) Theologische Studien und Kritiken Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum Supplements Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Westminster Theological Journal Zeitschrift für Althebraistik Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

T H E C O R E STORY IN T H E P R O L O G U E E P I L O G U E OF T H E B O O K OF J O B

ARON PINKER [email protected] SILVER SPRING, MARYLAND, U . S . A . 1.

INTRODUCTION

More than a century ago Macdonald observed with respect to the prose framework of the book of Job: "The writer of the main stem may have written the prologue and the epilogue. O r he may have taken them from some already existing source, written or oral, and used them as a frame for his own work. Or, finally, they may have been added by some later hand." 1 Most scholars 2 consider now the Prologue-Epilogue (Job 1:1-3:1, 42:7-17) as based on an ancient folk tale, which the author of the Book of J o b (subsequently author) rewrote as the framework for his poetic treatment of the problem of personal retribution. 3 1 MacDonald, D. B. "The Original Form of the Legend of Job," JBL 14 (1895) 63. 2 Fohrer, G. Introduction to the Old Testament (Nashville: Abingdon Press; 1958) 325. Fohrer says, "It is almost universally accepted that the framework [Chpts. 1-2; 42:7-17] was originally an independent narrative, a legend whose point was didactic and paraenetic." Cf. Pfeiffer, R. H. Introduction to the Old Testament (New York: Harper & Brothers; 1941) 670ff. Pfeiffer provides an extensive review of literature. 3 Sarna, N. M. "Epic Substratum in the Prose of Job," JBL 76 (1957) 14. Commentators noted the patriarchal setting of the Prologue-Epilogue: wealth is measured in terms of living stock (Job 1:3, 42:12, cf. Gen 12:16, 32:5); religion is primitive, expressing itself in the early concept that God's anger can be mollified with sacrifices (Job 1:5, 45:8, cf. Num 23:1, 14, 29 ); there is no priesthood or central shrine and the patriarch himself offers sacrifice (Job 1:5, 42:8), Sabeans and Chaldeans are still marauding bands of nomads (Job 1:15, 17); the kesita is still current (Job 42:11, cf. Gen 33:19, Josh 24:32); Job's longevity (Job 42:16) is paralleled only in the patriarchal (Gen 25:7) and pre-

1

2

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

However, opinions vary regarding the extent of the author's borrowing from the ancient source. Duhm suggested that the entire prose part was excerpted from an ancient source, which predated the Dialogue (Job 3:2-42:6). 4 Kautzsch, on the other hand, held that the author only appropriated the name of a righteous man from the ancient tradition. 5 It is assumed in this study that the truth is somewhere between these extremes. 6 Certainly, Ezekiel's extensive reference to J o b strongly suggests the existence of a generally well-known core story that probably underlies the Prologue-Epilogue. 7 This core story was not apparently an Israelite specific story but rather a human interest story of universal patriarchal periods (Genesis 5); and the closing description (Job 42:17) is the same as that used of Abraham (Gen 25:8) and Isaac (Gen 25:29). The author seems to have archaized some of his additions to make them fit the archaic nature of the core story. 4 Duhm, B. Das Buch Hiob (Freiburg im Breisgau J. C. B. Mohr/Paul Siebeck; 1897) vii. 5 Kautzsch, K. Das sogenante Volksbuch von Hiob und der Ursprung von Hiob Cap. I. II. XLII, 7-17: ein Beitrag zur Frage nach der Integrität des Buches Hiob (Leipzig: Drugulin; 1900) 22-39. 6 There are scholars who consider the prose part in Job the author's original creation. For instance, Newsom says, "More likely, what we have is no more and no less than what the author of the whole book of Job wrote. But the prose tale has been crafted in order to create something analogous to an optical illusion. Just as there are some drawings in which the eye can 'see' a line that is not drawn on the page but that is necessary to complete the figure, so readers can perceive the outlines of the missing middle of the prose tale" (Newsom, Carol A. The Book ofJob: A Contest of Moral Imaginations (Oxford: Oxford University Press; 2003) 37). Habel raises the question "whether the book of Job consists of independent poetic speeches inserted into a traditional narrative context or whether the book is better understood as a narrative whose plot incorporates lengthy speeches, which are integral to the plot." He opts to view the book of Job as a traditional biblical narrative (Habel, N. C. The Book of Job [Philadelphia: Westminster Press; 1985] 26). Spiegel, S. "Noah, Danel, and Job," in Louis Ginzberg Jubilee volume: on the occasion of his seventieth birthday (eds. Goldman, S. et al.; New York: The American Academy for Jewish Research; 1945) 305-307. Job is mentioned in Ezek 14:14, 20 among the three righteous who would be saved in a God decreed calamity, indicating that a version of the Job core story was known then. However, it is doubtful that it was the current version. Cf. Noth, M. "Noah, Daniel and Hiob in Ezekiel XIV," VT 1 (1951) 251-60. 7

T H E CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

3

appeal and currency. 8 If the Prologue-Epilogue were taken by the author from another source then Macdonald says that two questions arise: "What was the form of the story of J o b in this source, and why did the writer of the poem use it when it was so antagonistic in many ways to his own views and feelings?" 9 The purpose of this paper is to answer Macdonald's first question, glean from the biblical text the core story and thereby establish a basis for the study of author induced changes. Only when a reasonable core story would become available could one attempt to answer the second question. Our working hypothesis is that the author substantially altered the core story, cleverly preparing the ground for the emergence in the Dialogue of a J o b personality that is in utter contrast with that in the core story. Pope felt that it is impossible to determine how much of the ancient folk tale does the Prologue-Epilogue retain and what modifications did the author make. He surmises, "Probably very little of the old tale has been lost because the Prologue and Epilogue together present a fairly complete story." 1 0 In Pope's opinion the PrologueEpilogue presents this ancient folk tale in essentially the same form as it was propagated in antiquity: "Whether this ancient folk tale was in written form or transmitted orally, it had probably attained a relatively fixed form and content which the author of the Dialogue could not modify in any radical fashion. It has epic style and the charm and flavor of an oft told tale." 1 1 Indeed, it is reasonable to assume that the essence of the core story was preserved, since it was short, addressed a poignant issue, and offered a reassuring resolution to a tormenting conflict. Pope is also right that it would be now difficult to determine all the adaptations that were made by the author to the extraneous material or determine all the versions that might have existed. Still, some plausible deductions 8 Tur-Sinai, N. H. 3VN n3D. Tel Aviv: Yavneh (1956) 18. Tur-Sinai claims that from the frame story it is not absolutely clear whether Job believed in one God. All the references to a deity are in the plural, and the statement in 1:21 has been Judaized. Only at the end is it clear that God is the only ruler of the universe. 9 MacDonald, D. B. "The Original Form," 65. 10 Pope, M. H .Job (AB 15; New York: Doubleday; 1986) xxvi. 11 Ibid. xxiv. This thesis was first introduced by Wellhausen in his review of A. Dillmann's, Das Buch Hiob (Leipzig, 1980) that appeared in Jahrbücher für deutsche Theologie 16 (1871) 555.

4

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

could perhaps be made based on textual and thematic assumptions. It can be assumed that the core story at least predates Ezekiel, and was neutral with respect to specific national, religious, or linguistic identifiers to become widely well known. One would naturally be suspicious of including in the core story elements of the Prologue-Epilogue that appear as overly serving the author's needs. Finally, it remains to be seen if a self-contained consistent core story would emerge when these assumptions are applied to the Prologue-Epilogue. In the following sections I discuss the perceived adaptations and expansions of the core story, provide some speculations on their underlying motivations, and tentatively outline a core story. 2.

PERCEIVED ADAPTATIONS AND EXPANSIONS OF THE CORE STORY AND THEIR MOTIVATION

2.1 The hemistich 1:1a illustrates the author's propensity for exactitude in number, name, and origin. Here, as he did with Job's friends, he also identifies J o b as being from the archaic land of Utz. Perhaps, the author felt that without giving the hero a name and associating him with a locale the story would lose some of its credence. 12 Also, making J o b a denizen of U t z would suggest to an Israelite that J o b was a gentile, and consequently could take some extreme positions vis-a-vis God. 13 Finally, the names and f i y conveniently suggest TIN "enemy" (cf. J o b 13:24) and H^y "counsel," 14 setting J o b up as God's 12 Kramer, S. N. '"Man and his God' A Sumerian Variation on the 'J°b' Motif," in Noth, M. and Thomas, D. W. (ed.), Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East Presented to Professor Harold Henry Rowley (VTSup 3; Brill: Leiden, 1955) 170-182 & pis. i-iv (171). In the Sumerian Job story, pieced together by Kramer, the suffering man is unnamed. 13 Brenner, A. "Job the pious? The Characterization of Job in the narrative framework of the Book," JSOT 43 (1989) 40. Brenner feels that the foreign background of the framework story is intended to imply "that it deals with a separate and distant sphere, one that inspire curiosity and awe, but whose foreignness makes its credibility questionable." According to Kahana (Kahana, A. ISO [Tel Aviv; 1928] 22-23) the reason for conveying Job as a Gentile is apologetic. One who ponders the attributes of God and questions His righteousness could not possibly be a Jew. However, in Weiss' opinion "The protagonist of the story is represented as a Gentile and not a Jew in order to teach that perfect fear of heaven is not solely the possession of the Jew" (Weiss, M. The Story of Job's Beginning. Job 1-2: A Literary Analysis [Jerusalem: Magnes Press; 1983] 22).

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

5

emy" (cf. J o b 13:24) and H^y "counsel," 14 setting J o b up as God's enemy (or opponent) and as unable to find counsel with regard to his predicament. We can assume that the name of the hero is authentic, since it is mentioned as a well-known name in Ezek 14:14 and 20. However, Job's origination from the archaic U t z must be doubted, because it only serves the author's needs with respect to his Israelite audience. Using Gen 6:9 as a prototype it would seem that 1:1a contributed to the core story only the words UPN, TH, and ITN, which probably occurred in the core story asU^N TH ITN. The author reversed this sequence to align it with the genre of his time (Esth 2:5).

2.2 One might have assumed that the second hemistich (1:1b) would show familiarity with J o b and continue with ITN ¡THI. Instead, it uses the strange phrase "that man" (Ninn U^Nn), alluding to the first hemistich for sake of recognition. Furthermore, the phrase Ninn U^NH THI occurs again only in Jer 20:16 in a context strongly resembling J o b 3:3, and a variant of it is found in J o b 1:3. Moreover, the two parts of the verse are unbalanced. Finally, the influence of Gen 6:9 on J o b 1:1 may have led to the use of U^NH. These observations lead to the conclusion that in the second hemistichNinn U^NH T m was inserted into the core story by the author for added emphasis and harmonization with Gen 6:9. The description of Job's piety in the second hemistich, which is in accord with Ezekiel 14, appears authentic to the core story. This authenticity is also supported by the author's use of "[DOD in 2:9, where Job's innocence, established in the core story, is exploited by the author in his own text. Yet, one may well question whether all the four attributes (y~lQ "ID1 , D t 6 N NT ,-|Ur> ,nn) were in the core story. The Bible, which deals with a number of outstanding personalities, never charac14 Maimonides, M. The Guide for the Perplexed (Trans. M. Friedlander) (New York: Dover, 1956) 296. Maimonides says, "... it is also imperative of the verb pip 'to take advice.' Comp. 12J1J? 'take counsel' (Isa 7:10). The name Uz, therefore expresses the exhortation to consider well this lesson, study it, grasp its ideas, and comprehend them, ... ." We find in b. B. Bat 16a: Rabbah said: Job blasphemed with [mention] of a tempest, and with a tempest he was answered Job said to God: Perhaps a tempest has passed before thee, and caused you to confuse Iyob [3VN] and Oyeb [^IN]." Cf. also Rashi on 1:1.

6

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

terizes anyone as having all these attributes. Noah is described in Gen 6:9 as D y 6 n " f ? n n n = = > DYI^N NT (cf. Gen 17:1 and 22:12), D ^ n — > DD — > Since J o b was known to be in the same category as Noah, we can exclude from the core story the third quality JTIO "ID as a typical exaggeration by the author (perhaps under the influence of Isa 59:15). F o r metrical reasons I read "lU'TDD as a single word (cf. Ps 25:21).

2.3lt can be safely assumed that verse 1:2 is part of the core story. In Ezekiel 14 the text refers repeatedly (Ezekl4:16, 18, 20, 22) to D ^ l m j n (or p and r a ) who would not be saved by the righteousness of their fathers. This strongly suggests a reference to a well-established core story that featured sons and daughters. Also, the archaic form ruyiu? of the parallel verse in J o b 42:13 suggests an ancient source. 15 The presence of the daughters in the core story apparently influenced inclusion of vniTIN in parallel with VTIN in verse 42:11, though VTIN would have included both genders of relatives. Having seven children, and in particular seven sons, was considered a blessing (1 Sam 2:5, Jer 15:9, Ruth 4:15). Sarna notes, "Most striking of all is the fact that Baal, like Job, had seven sons and three daughters." 16 The respective numbers of children seem to correspond to some proportion that was considered auspicious in antiquity. Finally, it should be noted that women did not usually partake with men in feasts of wine, where men got drunk and indecencies often occurred (Gen 19:3, 26:30, 40:20, 2 Sam 3:20, 1 Kgs 3:15, Esthl:3, 1:8, etc.). 17 The author was, apparently, compelled to include females in the male feasts of wine, contrary to custom, because the core story referred twice to the number of daughters and sons. 2.4 It is doubtful that the core story mentioned specific numbers of animals as verses 1:3 and 42:12 do. Such numbers would have been easily distorted in oral transmission. Owners of sizeable herds seldom know the number of animals in each herd. Indeed, when Isaac's wealth The Targum has 1D31N "fourteen" for rujnu?, in line with the principle of double restitution. 16 Sarna, 21. Sarna assumes that 'nt (I:22ff.) refers to Baal's three daughters. However, Cassuto rejects such an interpretation. Cf. Cassuto, U. The goddess Anath. (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute; 1965) 76. 17 Weddings seem to be the exception (Gen 29:22). 15

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

7

is described using similar assets no specific numbers are given (Gen 26:14, cf. Gen 12:16). The author needed specific numbers for three reasons: (a) to highlight Job's riches and initial loss; (b) to specify the twofold restitution; and, (c) to imply authenticity by means of exactitude. Specific numbers of animals conveniently serve the author's needs but are uncharacteristic of similar stories of antiquity. They could not be in the core story. -2.5 The link between verse 1:3 and Gen 26:13-14 is so obvious that the author's intent cannot be doubted. Altogether J o b 1:3 and Gen 26:1314 share the terms, n i l m u y ,blX , 1 p l mpQ mpQ, TP1. Certainly, a successful J o b would have nUinNI npa njpo, just as a successful Isaac would have. These descriptors of wealth would naturally also occur in the core story. However, the author added words that force the association with Isaac and these would not be in the core story. The term n i l m i y occurs only in J o b 1:3 and Gen 26:14; V m , UPN, and I ^ Q occur in J o b 1:3 and Gen 26:13. The author implies that J o b was blessed even more than Isaac, because he may have been even more pious than Isaac. Isaac became eventually very wealthy, but J o b became wealthier than anyone in the East. Clearly, such linkage well serves the author's needs, and it would be meaningful only to an Israelite audience. It is highly unlikely that TP1 "TNO n i l t n p " n bDD b m Ninn w a n r m y i was in the core story.

2.6The author artificially inserted verses 1:4-5 to show Job's piety and to create a situation in which, for dramatic effect, all the children could perish at once. A typical Near Eastern joint family, living in one compound, was normally rife with rivalries among adult sons and daughters, which could have cast some suspicion on the quality of the patriarch's leadership. The author removed this suspicion from J o b by making each son have his own house and stressing the sons' respectful relationship with their sisters, even in Job's absence (Job is not mentioned as a participant in the daily feasts). 18 18 Good, E. M. In Turns of Tempest, A Reading of Job (Stanford: Stanford Univ. Press; 1990) 192. Good observes, "His family is unusual. That seven brothers would enjoy one another's company enough to have regular parties together might not seem surprising, though the fact, stated baldly, proposes a familial harmony that cannot be unremarkable."

8

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

The setting of continual (or repeated) feasts of wine in which young females participate is highly unusual and unrealistic. 19 A nnu?0 was normally made to celebrate a special event. However, verse 1:4 describes it as a daily routine (so L X X , Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Ralbag, and many commentators). It was already noted that women did not usually partake with men in feasts of wine, where men got drunk and indecencies often occurred (Hab 2:15). Good notes "Quite exceptionally, the parties include the sisters. In those days one did not, it seems, deal socially with women, even one's sisters, as equals." 20 Notably J o b is apprehensive of his sons being blasphemous (1:5). Similarly unusual is Job's bringing a burnt offering for each child fearing they had some blasphemous thought during the feasts. There is no other example in the Hebrew Bible where a father absolves his children in such a manner, or for such a purpose. It is the only case of preemptive expiation for a sin of meditation. In the Hebrew Bible the burnt offering is a major cultic rite that usually follows outstanding events such as flood (Gen 8:20), appearance of an angel (Judg 6:26, 13:16), return of the holy ark (1 Sam 6:14-15), stopping of a plague (2 Sam 24:22), etc. The Israelite reader would automatically consider such ritual as piety that goes well beyond the highest standards.21 It is a literary device that would work only on the conceptual framework of an Israelite, and consequently could not be part and parcel of a core story that circulated in the region. 7 Clearly, the heavenly scenes (Job 1:6-12, 2:1-6) are tailored to conveniently serve the author's needs and could not be part of the core story. 22 Satan, their central figure, is a concept of a much later Persian 19 Hacham, A. 3VN nao (Jerusalem: Mosad HaRav Kook; 1981) 5. Hacham sees in the four verbs, D^ni, 1U?}?1, inVu?"!, and liOpl an indication that their custom was to have daily feasts. 20 Good, 192. 21 Weiss, 30. Weiss says, "It is odd that, on the one hand Job's should be so slight, and on the other, that his fear concerned the greatest sin of all, blasphemy." Jewish sages noted that the superlatives used with respect to Job go well beyond those used for Abraham. Rabbi Yochanan says, "What is said about Job is much more than what is said about Abraham" (Yalqut Shimoni on Job, 892). 22 Brandwein, Ch. N. " o w n nnbu?1? 3VN rml, which the author changed to ^SPI ••""IVJil by n n n to harmonize with the repetitive use of D'Hyjn in 1:15-17.

2.11 Job's reaction to the first sequence of disasters, as described in 1:20, is typical of customs of mourning and would naturally be part of the core story. For instance, an Ugaritic text tells of El's reaction to news about the death of Baal, Thereupon Beneficent El Benign Descended the throne, sat on the footstool, From the footstool took seat on the ground. He strewed mourning straw on his head, Wallowing dust on his pate. Robe and loin cloth he ripped, Skin with stone he gashed, Incisions with stick he cut, Cheek and chin he furrowed, Upper arm he plowed, Like a garden his chest Like a valley he furrowed his back (67 VI12-22).

Perhaps, 11 T U n r 6 Unn lb np 1 ! (2:8) was part of the mourning routine in the core story, corresponding to Skin with stone he gashed (67 VI 12-22), and was later exploited by the author in the Job's affliction scene for a different purpose. 35 However, the word i n i W l "and he bowed," reflecting piety even in the process of great emotional distress, appears to be the author's add on. It is doubtful that the following verse (1:21) was in the core story. It apparently repeats a seemingly Hebrew truism (Qoh 5:14, Sir 40:1, cf. Exod 21:3), invokes the Tetragrammaton in the context of standard phrases of resignation (Ps 113:2), and states the obvious impotence of the underling (cf. 1 Kgs 11:35, 1 Sam 15:28, 8:14, 2 Sam 12:11), which is later exploited by Elihu (35:7). The author apparently split the original: n V a n jru i w i n r a a o n ah n m ' m of the core story to create verses 1:22 and 2:10b, and thereby introduce suspicion regarding Job's reaction. However, if ¡"6211 is connected 35

The hapax legomenon Tunn 1 ? is generally assumed to mean "scrape, scratch."

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

15

with the Arabic tafala "expectorate" then the original would make excellent sense, "Job did not sin with his lips, he did not spit."36 2.12 It is possible that the core story referred in some way to a sickness as the "Sumerian J o b " and Keret stories do. The phrase DN "pi in 2:7 leaves open the question of "Who struck J o b with a severe inflammation?" Could it be that the core story had ITN ['»bnrrny] "pi ("the sickness-demon struck Job")? The Epilogue surprisingly does not mention Job's physical recovery though it dwells on his familial and material restoration. Such an omission defies logic. It obviously cannot be a scribal error or accidental in a carefully crafted book as the book of J o b is. In Spiegel's view the phrase 2VX n n u m u ? m m (Job 42:10) "undoubtedly including the miracle of his cure as well has a wider range of meaning." 37 While it is possible to assume that 42:10 alludes to such cure, one may well wonder why nothing more explicit was said. F o r instance, when the "Sumerian J o b " was restored "The encompassing sickness-demon, which had spread wide its wings, he swept away(?)." 38 Also, as Good noted, "We might think the order of events curious, tending as we do to think of physical suffering as having less magnitude than mental or psychic suffering. Yet the story clearly proposes a crescendo of difficulty, and Job's suffering in his own person implies a greater pain than the psychic suffering he has educed at the deaths of his children." 39 Job's affliction is a direct consequence of Satan's role in the story and helps considerably the author in creation of the personal drama that makes his position against God understandable. It must be concluded that in the core story J o b was never physically harmed, and that the second heavenly scene is the author's addition. The author used Job's physical pain as a means for affording him the greatest latitude of argument in the Dialogue.

2.13 Job's wife makes a cameo appearance in 2:9. One notes that she does not partake with J o b in the mourning of the death of their chil36 Tur-Sinai, N. H. The Book of Job (Jerusalem: Kiryath Sepher; 1967) 21. Tur-Sinai says, "nban, originally means spittle, as Arabic tifl. This noun—and in Arabic also the verb, tafala "to spit"—apparently originate in an imitation of the noise produced by spitting between the teeth (t sound) and lips (f sound). Thus, to lay nban originally means "to throw spittle at, to spit at." 37 Spiegel, 328-9. 38 Kramer, 180. 39 Good, 199.

16

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dren and is not mentioned in the Epilogue. 40 J o b does not hear from his wife words of comfort, encouragement, support, or hope. She does not sayDlQJl DTI^N T Q J "Let us curse God and die," but urges only J o b to do so. 41 She is the adversary at home, close to his bosom, yet utterly treacherous. Augustine called her "assistant to Satan" (diaboli adiutrix). Brandwein says, "The role of the wife in the Legend of Job, as her role in Genesis—is to support Satan's plots. Despite the legends of her suffering that have been woven around her image, her role in the framework tale, as it appears in the M T , is clear and unequivocal." 42 She is mentioned in the Prologue as a means for advancing the plot; enable the author to make the point that she clearly urged J o b to do what Satan predicted he would do, and more. 43 She allows the author to do away up front with the option of suicide. 44 She enables him to further highlight Job's piety in uttering "You talk as any shameless woman might talk! Should we accept only good from God and not accept evil?" 45 Thus, the exchange between J o b and his wife is too convenient for the author not to be his own creation. It could not have been in the core story.

40 The Septuagint, sensitive to this depiction of Job's wife adds significantly to the text. For instance, it says that she passes "the night out of doors, wandering like a slave from place to place, from house to house waiting for the sun to set that I may rest from the grief and pains that overwhelm me." 41 Orbach, I. "Job—A biblical Message About Suicide." Journal of Psychology and Judaism 18 (1994) 243. Orbach says, "The wife projects her own anger with God onto Job and encourages him to commit suicide as a protest against God." 42 Brandwein, 12 43 It is possible to interpret 2:3 as expressing the wife's advice that Job should pray to God that He should grant him death as long as he is still blameless. However, the textual similarities between the wife's advice and Satan's prediction make such an interpretation unlikely. 44 Hoffman, Y. "The relation between the prologue and the speech-cycles in Job," VT 31 (1981) 165-6. Cf. also Orbach, p. 246. 45 Mathews McGinnis, C. "Playing the Devil's Advocate in Job: On Job's Wife," in The Whirlwind: Essays on Job, Hermeneutics and Theology in Memory of Jane Morse. (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press; 2001) 136. Mathews McGinnis suggests that Job's wife played a positive role. She verbalized the option of cursing God so that Job would not do so. She leaves unexplained the similarity between Satan's words and those that Job's wife uses.

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

17

2.14 It has been noted by Buber that the verb "["12 is a "leading word" in the Prologue-Epilogue. 46 Indeed, Satan's argument is anchored in the diametrically opposite meanings of the verb "["12, "bless" and "curse." H e claims that Job's "blessing" of G o d is the consequence of God's "blessing" Job's enterprises. However, if G o d would do u n t o Job the opposite of "blessing" so would also J o b do (1:10-11). 47 The verb "["12 occurs first in its negative sense when Job expresses his fear that his sons/children may have "blasphemed G o d " (1:5). T h e next t w o times Satan uses "["12 positively in 1:10 and negatively in the following verse. Then Job uses "["12 positively in 1:21. This is followed by t w o negative uses of "["12 by Satan (2:5) and his wife (2:9). Finally, "["12 is used positively in 42:12. T h e alternate uses of opposing meanings of "["12 and making the wife's negative sense of "["12 follow that of Satan's can not be accidental. T h e author apparently tried by means of the literary device of a "leading word" t o convey to the reader that Job's wife should be considered in cahoots with Satan 48 and that at issue is the tension between "blessing" and "cursing." 49 H e used the dual meaning of "["12 as a prelude t o the real cursing with which J o b opens the Dialogue (3:1). 46

Buber, 341. He also suggests that "["O can mean "take leave with a blessing," or "bless and leave." 47 Linafelt, T. "The Undecidability of "["O in the Prologue of Job and beyond," Biblnt 4 (1996) 168-9. Linafelt observes, "had it not been for the great blessing bestowed on Job, the decidedly 'curse-like' things which befall him and his family would not have been necessary to test him ... Blessing for Job, is bound up with curse." 48 Brenner, 38, 46. Brenner suggests that Job's wife is implied in the Epilogue and Satan "was incorporated into the figure of God through God's admission that both good and evil emanate from him." However, the linkage between Satan and Job is too strong and apparent to be explained by such arguments. 49 Davis, E. F. "Job and Jacob: The Integrity of Faith," in The Whirlwind: Essays on Job, Hermeneutics and Theology in Memory of Jane Morse. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press (2001) 104. Davis notes that the challenge of Job's wife "is commonly heard as a mocking question ('Do you still persist in your integrity?'), implying that Job's vaunted integrity has availed him nothing. But it may also be read as a statement rather than a question: a sad affirmation that integrity is the one thing of value which Job has left, and that very integrity demands that he curse the God who senselessly destroyed everything else."

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The author creates a similar association by the clever use of the words l y i ("around, for") and iy(n) ("still") (1:10, 2:3-4, 9, 42:10), which were probably homophones, and Tiy ("still") (1:16-18). Satan insinuates that Job is righteous as long as ("Ty[l]) God is for ( l y i ) him, though God (and Job's wife) states he is still (iny), despite the disasters that pile ("Tiy and Tiy) (cf. 29:5). These seemingly deliberate uses of delicate nuances of Hebrew language, appreciated only by the Israelite cognoscenti, but forming the fabric of the heavenly scenes, could not be in the core story. Hurvitz convincingly argued that blpb "to receive, take," is typical of post-exilic Hebrew. 50 The author's efforts to make the frame text archaic speak against his mere replacement of a single word in a verse. It is more likely that he picked up an entire current phrase.

2.15The three friends, which are introduced in 2:11-13, are not part of the core story. The author invented them for presenting in the Dialogue diverse philosophical and theological opinions on the issues of "uncalculated piety" and "unmerited suffering."51 The author obviously needed the friends properly named for the Dialogue, while in case of a mere condolence visit their names are of no consequence. They could have been easily considered among all his T y T (Job 42:11) who came to comfort Job and break bread with him, without singling them out. The friends do not follow normal customs of mourning. Instead of placing dust upon their head (Josh 7:6, Ezek 27:30, Lam 2:10) they exaggerate by tossing it upwards, as if the norm is inadequate. In contrast to the condoling of his acquaintances and relatives the friends do not try to ease the pain by engaging Job in some normal activity as eating and sympathetic conversation.52 Their silence for seven days and Hurvitz, 20-23. The word appears 8 times in Esther, Ezra, and Chronicles, which are of the Persian period, and once in Proverbs, which is of disputable date. 51 MacDonald, D. B. "Some External Evidence," 163. MacDonald says, "[o]f the friends of Job we find no trace [in the Koran], but that does not necessarily involve that they were not there." 52 Buttenwieser, M. The Book of Job (New York: Macmillan; 1922) 43-6. Even if Buttenwieser is correct, and the friends actions are intended to ward off the curse that has fallen on Job, their behavior would distance them from Job. 50

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

19

night is highly irregular for a condolence visit and only serves the author's design of creating a charged dramatic opening for the debate. Indeed, Gordis suggested that the passages introducing them in the Prologue (2:11-13) and dealing with them in the Epilogue (42:7-10) are simply "hinge" passages for integrating the poetic Dialogue. The core story, in his view, had only two characters, God and Job, the three friends were added by the author for the development of the Dialogue.53

2.16 The introduction of the three friends and the author's effort to conclude the Dialogue maintaining Job's piety and moral superiority have led to a clumsy Epilogue. God's anger turns at Job's friends who are accused of being untruthful. Pope says, "In the Dialogue we meet quite a different Job whose bitter complaints and charges of injustice against God shock his pious friends who doggedly defend divine justice and persistently reaffirm the doctrine of exact individual retribution. 54 In view of these attitudes, the Epilogue, in which the friends, not Job, are rebuked for not having spoken the truth about Yahweh comes as something of a shock." 55 T o atone for their sin the friends have to make substantial sacrifices, which are numerically suggestive by the 3 (friends = = > sisters) to 7 (bullocks and rams = = > sons) ratio, and require prayer by Job. These special and unusual requirements appear to be the author's invention intended to make the friends appear as weaklings and Job as magnanimous. Only when Job prays for his friends is he himself restored. God's sentiment toward Job's friends and His instructions to them have long baffled commentators. It led to the assumption that in the core story the friends counseled Job (as his wife had done) to curse God and die.56 Such an act, if true, would explain God's censure of the friends and praise of J o b in the Epilogue. However, whatever additional material the core story might have had, apart of the material 53 Gordis, R. The Book of Job: Commentary, New Translation, and Special Studies (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary; 1977) 573-75. 54 Ginsberg, H. L. "Job the Patient and Job the Impatient," Conservative Judaism 21/3 (1967) 12-28. 55 Pope, Job, xxiii. 56 Fine, H. A. "Tradition of a patient Job," JBL 74, 1 (1955) 28-32; Ginsberg, 12-28.

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

20

that can be gleaned from the M T , is highly speculative. As has been already discussed, the three friends of J o b are not part of the core story and so cannot be in 42:7-9.

2.17The Epilogue mentions twice J o b ' s praying (42:8, 10). This seems to indicate that the core story contained an element of prayer. Such an act would be natural and an obviously necessary feature in light of the actions taken by the Sumerian J o b . Indeed, the main thesis of the Sumerian poet-theologian was "that in cases of suffering and adversity, no matter how seemingly unjustified, the victim has but one valid and effective recourse, and that is to continually glorify his god and keep wailing and lamenting before him until he turns a favourable ear to his prayer." 5 7 It is very likely that the core story contained a lam e n t / prayer by J o b to his god/gods and that they responded favorably. The author could not do away with the element of J o b ' s praying, but at the same time he could not say that G o d responded to J o b since that happened already before (from the whirlwind). His solution was to make J o b pray not for himself but for his friends. 58 Thus, it seems reasonable to assume that after the condolences were over J o b lamented on his situation and prayed n y i n b'D by and G o d responded (ITN n a m m NU^I). Elements of the lament/prayer were probably integrated into the dialogue to such a degree that their reconstruction would be highly speculative. It is likely that J o b prayed to his "personal god" or to the supreme El. T h e author, however, had no choice but to use the Tetragrammaton (this he does repeatedly, 42:7, 9 (twice), 10, 11 (twice), 12). I have opted to include in the core story ( N U P 1 ITN , J£l) on the basis of the generality of El, and to delete DN as unfitting the poetic nature of the text. 5 9

Kramer, 171. The Sumerian view was that no man is without guilt. In spite of surface appearances to the contrary, there are no cases of unjust and undeserved human suffering, it is always man who is to blame, not the gods. Cf. Q o h 7:20. 58 The author may have relied on an Israelite tradition, which was later expressed in b. B. Q a m . 92a: nVrin mja Nin - c n iniN1? -p"s mm ran bp ffnm u^pnnn bo (Anyone who prays for mercy on his friend and himself needs the same thing is granted first). Hurvitz notes that "by Wannb 'intercede' in J o b X L I I 8 reflects Late Hebrew phraseology" (p. 23). 59 Eissfeldt, O. "El and Yahweh," JSS 1 (1956) 25. Eissfeldt notes that "new 57

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

21

2.18 Twice in the Epilogue it is mentioned that Job's original (at least) status was restored. First is Job's restoration mentioned in short in 42:10 and then in some detail in 42:12-15. If the same author penned the two statements, Alt argued, then one might have expected them to complement each other and together provide a full picture of the restoration. Yet, the general statement in 42:10 and the particular statement in 42:12-15 can stand alone. 60 Moreover, the two statements do not follow each other but are interrupted by a description of an event that has no relation to them. Alt concludes that the Book of J o b has two conclusions; a younger one consisting of verses 42:7-10 and an older one consisting of verses 42:11-17. One has to choose between the two conclusions. 61 Unfortunately, it is impossible to declare any one of the statements superfluous, since the author has tempered with both, as at least the occurrence of the Tetragrammaton indicates. The insistence on twofold restitution echoes Exod 22:3 implying thereby that an injustice was done to Job. Pope notes, "... the doubling of the material possessions is a highly artificial device and incompatible with Job's realistic observations in the Dialogue." 62 We have also seen that the core story could not be judgmental. Thus, 42:10b could not have been in the core story. Removing from 42:10 also the Tetragrammaton and reference to actions on behalf of the friends we are left with ITN lU^I. This is now complemented by 42:12 in which the first hemistich must be deleted since it contains the Tetragrammaton and is redundant. As finds of text have now proved the veneration of a great god named El for the first part of the second millennium B.C.; a veneration which had hitherto been securely known only for the first millennium B.C." Cf. Isa 14:13, Ezek28:2, and Gen 14:18-24. 60 Alt, A. "Zur Vorgeschichte des Buches Hiob," ZAW55 (1937) 265. Alt says, "Schon diese Unabhängigkeit der beiden Darstellungen voneinander spricht meines Erachtens entshieden gegen die Annahme ihrer Herkunft von dem gleichen Autor." 61 Alt, 266. Alt says, "Dieses völlig unausgeglichene Nebeneinander zweier Erzählungsschlüsse laßt sich nicht so erklären, alls soke die bis dahin einheitlich verlaufene Darstellung der Schicksale Hiobs nun an ihrem Ende mit einmal in zwei parallele Fassungen gegabelt werden, zwischen denen man beliebig wählen dürfte." Using literary considerations Brandwein tried to reconstruct the two stories in the Prologue-Epilogue that have been suggested by Alt (Brandwein, 16-17). 62 Pope, Job, xxix.

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in the description of J o b ' s original status all the references t o the size of the herds must also be deleted.

2.19 It has been noted by many that the condolence call of J o b ' s family and friends in the Epilogue (42:11) is both belated and pointless. A t that time J o b ' s situation has been favorably reversed (42:10). 63 T h e donation of a coin and an earring w o u l d be inconsequential after the restoration and doubling of J o b ' s fortunes. T h e appearance of family and friends at this point is certainly inconvenient for the author, and consequently must have been an element of the core story that he could not do away with. Alt made the reasonable suggestion that 42:12-17 originally followed 1:22, which is adopted here. 6 4 However, a comparison of 2:11 with 42:11 shows that the core story had H^IH n y i n bD b p vby and did not include the Tetragrammaton as in 42:11. T h e author was compelled t o add the Tetragrammaton because at that point in the text G o d appeared t o J o b and it was obvious that H e was the cause of J o b ' s catastrophes. 2.20 T h e names of J o b ' s first set of daughters were not spelled out in the Prologue and it is not clear what the names of the second set, given in the Epilogue, contribute to the story. Perhaps, the man-given names express J o b ' s hopes for the future. In that case they would be regionspecific, since the names would have to connote meaning. A wellk n o w n core story that crosses regions could not be name-specific. It would seem prudent to assume that the author added the names for the daughters t o tell his Israelite audience that J o b f o u n d eventually personal tranquility (nQ^Q1), fame (HV^p), and reversal of fortune ( p p -pan). Since the b o o k only highlights the trio consisting of loss of personal tranquility, fame, and fortune, the large number of sons was unsuitable for this purpose. Consequently, the sons were not named to maintain the focus of the b o o k . T h e core story did not contain 42:14. 2.21 It is possible that the beauty of J o b ' s daughters was mentioned in the core story. However, the author's tendency to speak in absolutes and the fact that the daughters' beauty was not mentioned in the Prologue speak against including such description in the core story. It seems more likely that the author included this exaggeration t o validate his assertion that J o b received double of everything when re63 64

Spiegel, 328-9. Alt, 265 ff.

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

23

stored. Since the author could not change the n u m b e r of the daughters he made t h e m exceedingly beautiful. Surprisingly, nothing extravagant is said about the sons. 65 Perhaps, one has to deduce that they were successful, since they did not mind that their sisters would be equal heirs with them. Normally daughters inherited only when there was no son. T h e sons could have rightfully objected to this unusual procedure. T h e author apparently chose this legalistic device t o convey to the reader that the sons were rich enough not to care. 66 Since laws of inheritance by daughters differed f r o m place to place and this detail is irrelevant it seems reasonable to assume that 42:15 was not in the core story.

2.22 According to 42:16 J o b lived an additional 140 years after the tragedy that befell him. The number 140 =70x2 neatly reflects the assumed human longevity (Ps 90:10) and the scheme of double restitution of all Job's fortunes. According to the author, J o b appears t o have lived a total of three lives (210 years), and saw four generations of his descendents. 67 Normally, a man could have expected t o see t w o generations of his descendents. The fact that Joseph saw three generations of descendents was highlighted by the H e b r e w Bible as being a singular blessing (Gen 50:23). That J o b saw four generations of his descendents, 65

Resh Lakish's question to R' Yochanan "Why was not the number of Job's daughters doubled?" (TB Baba Bathra 16b) presumes that the number of the sons was doubled. Apparently, the unusual rujnu? in 42:13 was understood as meaning twice seven (Cf. Targum). R' Yochanan felt that the extraordinary beauty of Job's daughters made up for not doubling their number. 66 Sasson, V. "The Literary and Theological Function of Job's Wife in the Book of Job," Bib 79 (1998) 88. Sasson felt that the author described Job as giving the daughters an inheritance because he wanted to show the "continued fairness and generosity of the new, restored Job." It is interesting to note that the author of Testament ofJob could not accept this act and made the daughters' inheritance a spiritual one; they inherited faith, piety, and access to heavenly secrets. See Kraft, R. A. et al., The Testament ofJob, according to the SV Text / Greek text and English translation. (New York: Society of Biblical Literature, 1974) chapter 46. 67 The Septuagint (Codex Vaticanus) reads "And Job lived after his affliction 170 years: and all the years he lived were 240." It seems that the Septuagint tries to harmonize with Gen 6:3 rather than with Ps 90:10. Pope's suggestion that "The LXX figure 170, and the resultant total of 240, may be explained as confusion, conflation, or contamination of the expressed figures 70 and 140" (Job, p. 353-4) is unlikely.

24

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

double the regular norm, is the author's repeated attempt to emphasize the validity of the principle of double restitution. Verse 42:16 is too self-serving to be an element of the core story. Hurvitz notes that "the peculiar DNT HnK—as well as n w *7D HnK and nt -ina—is entirely missing not only from the book of Genesis, but from classical Biblical prose as a whole. O n the other hand, DNT n n N and ¡"IT UlN ... appear in Ezra and 2 Chronicles." 68

2.23 Lastly, verse 42:17, echoing primeval history, sparse but majestic, eternal in its finality, and universal in its sentiment, was certainly also the end of the core story. 3.

T H E C O R E STORY

The core story emerging from the preceding considerations might resemble what follows. crn^N n t i -iun-nn w n rrn a r x n m unVun D^n njnu? ib nVm nuinNi npa injpa a m VK IKVQI orn Kau? Vani nijn nunum niunn npan pn noVoNi o n onyjni oniN npni U7N nn n : n a nr , •VDKrn o n y m t ^ m nyani • QU7n |q nVaj •huo nn n : n a nr •niK inpvi n,!7Q;n Vy iwya^i d ^ k t iqu? f n nn - D i a nr -i:nan n:iya n * u n m on^nx n u a • n y j n mien n u n Va^i n u a a y n tri iVya ynpi a r x np^i nmN Va^i n "n^nnV unn ib np^i nVan jnj nVi v n a u u a r x Kun kV nm b a i n u a orf? iVDK^I r y r Vai r n x VD VVK INTI rVy n*un nynn VD Vy WIN i a n n ib n n inK aw WNI nnK nonyp WN ib un^i nynn bo Vy a m VVan^i a m ^ a bn Nun ib avK sun

Hurvitz, 24. Classical Bible Hebrew makes intense use of p ,"iriN or nbnn t r i m CO-iriN

68

T H E CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

25

n m mbm c m rujnu? nuinNi npa jnun |pr a m na^i J o b was, a blameless and upright man, and fearing God. He had seven sons and three daughters. His livestock consisted of sheep, camels, oxen, and she-asses. One day, a messenger came to J o b and said, "The oxen were plowing, and the she-asses were grazing, when Sabeans attacked and carried them off, and smote the boys. I alone have escaped to tell you." This one is speaking and this one came and said, "Fire! It fell from heaven, and burned the sheep and the boys consuming all." This one is speaking and this one came and said, "Chaldeans! They formed columns and raided the camels and carried them off. This one is speaking and this one came and said, "Your children! In the house of their brother, and a wind from the desert struck the corners of the house so that it collapsed upon the young people and they died." Then J o b arose, tore his robe, cut off his hair, took a potsherd to gash himself, and fell on the ground. F o r all that, J o b did not sin with his lips nor did he cast reproach. All his relatives and acquaintances came and had a meal with him in his house. They consoled and comforted him for all the misfortune that came upon him. Each gave him one H U ^ p and each one gold ring. J o b prayed about all the misfortunes, and El showed favor to Job. J o b recouped. He had seven sons and three daughters, sheep, camels, oxen, and she-asses. J o b died old and contented. One observes that the core story that was obtained by means of the stated guidelines is rather subdued, without the drama imbued into it by the author. Such a low key, stoic, recitation has its charm and seems to fit the message of patience and perseverance. Its language is simple and accessible, yet balanced, restrained in expression, but charged with sorrow. The core story is self-contained, has clear structure, logic, and continuity. It is essentially a case for human hope in face of catastrophe. 69 As Noah could and did hope when faced with global flood, and as Daniel could and did hope for return to Zion when the Temple was destroyed and Judah was exiled, so J o b could 69 Kramer, 171-2. The Sumerian Job story is embedded as an example in a treatise dealing with human suffering and ways of forestalling it. Most of it is complaint on ill treatment by society, lament on the sufferer's fate, confession of guilt, and plea for deliverance.

26

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

and did hope when he faced a personal tragedy. 70 It is certainly impossible to say whether the core story contained only the material that can be gleaned from the Prologue-Epilogue sections of the Book of Job, or it also contained additional material. It is conceivable that it contained a lament and some local color crept into it as well as regional religious elements. Yet these regional influences could not, apparently, distort the main outline of the story or mar its universal appeal of human hope. 71 The framework of the book of J o b has been considered an epic prose tale, while the Dialogue is obviously poetic. Yet, the core story that emerges from our analysis is in main poetic too. Three cola per line, with two words to a colon, are the norm in the first part of the story. The longer three colon lines convey at the beginning a relaxed and routine atmosphere and later the seemingly unceasing disasters. This sequence of rhythmic phrases culminates with a declaration of Job's steadfastness. A few prose sentences follow and then again a quicker rhythm is picked up, consisting of two-colon lines. The second part describes Job's restoration for which the quicker pace is more suitable. These features attest to the appealing literary design of the structured core story. Brenner suggested that the author intentionally chose the prose framework for demarcation between his own work (poem) and the work appended (the framework). Thereby he conveyed to the reader from the beginning that "the introduction and the end of the story of J o b are basically not his, since they contain ideas that he 70 MacDonald, D. B. "Some External Evidence," 139. MacDonald says, "But why, we may ask has he chosen these three names? Is it not because they stood to him for men who had successfully passed through trouble and temptation, and lived an upright life in the midst of evil, as righteous men in a sinful land? Noah, the preacher of righteousness to an evil generation before the flood; Daniel, the Jew who preserved his purity at the heathen court; these were true examples of such uprightness. And evidently the story of J o b which had reached Ezekiel was the story of another who had passed through temptation unscathed." Spiegel considers Danel ( Daniel) to be the father of Aqhat, and the trio in Ezekiel 14 having in common the saving of their children (p. 319). This would require assuming that Aqhat was resurrected. 71 Moster, J. "Punishment of Job's Friends," JBQ 25 (1997) 218. Moster says, "The obvious message here is one of hope to anyone who can identify with Job: Just as J o b ended up in highly favorable circumstances so can they." Indeed, that is how the Midrash perceived the J o b story. Cf. Bialik, Ch. N . and Ravnitzky, Y. Ch. Sefer Ha'aggada (Tel Aviv: Dvir; 1987) 108-9.

THE CORE STORY IN THE PROLOGUE

27

does not subscribe to and which he proceeds to challenge and demolish." 72 In that case, the author had to convert the poetic core story into prose, which might explain some awkward insertions. It seems that the author elaborated on the core story in a twofold manner. He expanded the core story by giving it a setting more suitable for his period, sharpened the conflict by imbuing J o b with absolute religious piety, and gave it a Judaic nuance while retaining its alien nature. 73 It is very likely that the author incorporated the original lament into the theological dialogue, the poetic body of the book. Extrication of the original lament from the dialogue appears formidable because of the masterful integration. The lament elements in the dialogue are often natural backgrounds for the theological arguments or are the essence of the argument itself. W h y did the author use this literary device of a story as a framework for presenting his poetic dialogue on personal retribution and unmerited suffering? In Spiegel's view the author was prompted to use the framework of the story "by the desire to communicate to the reader something of his own assurance of innocence despite all affliction. Without the setting provided by the tale of Job; the unceasing insistence on being blameless could easily be misunderstood. Where a cornerstone of the creed is at stake, one will always prefer to suspect that the writer was a trifle self-righteous rather than surrender a cherished belief. By the choice of the story of J o b the poet succeeded in putting his entire argument upon a rock of certainty: there is undeserved suffering." 74 However, it is possible that the author found the core story well suited for his purpose because it aptly reflected his theological views on personal retribution. The core story suggests that the concept of personal retribution is a valid one. However, for unusual reasons unknown to humans, it sometimes fails. Man should not blame himself or denounce god/gods but persist in his righteousness. Brenner, 48 Roberts, J. J. M. "Job and the Israelite Religious Tradition," 2A W 89 (1977) 109. Roberts notes that "Nearly everyone tries to fit Job into the unilinear typological sequence of theological development provided by datable Hebrew prophecy and historiography." He finds no justification for such practices, though he has no doubt that the book of Job is of Israelite origin because of Job's oath (31:26-28), the list of moral norms (22:6-9, 24: 2-17, 21), and dependence on psalmic traditions. 74 Spiegel, 334. 72 73

28

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

Eventually this aberration would be corrected and personal retribution would be reasserted. 4.

CONCLUSION

The author of the Book of J o b appropriated a well-known core story dealing with a righteous person who suffers a sequence of tragedies but maintains his righteousness, and his fortunes are eventually restored. The author apparently made significant changes in the core story to fit the needs of his theological Dialogue. However, because the core story was well known the author had to retain its chief features. Taking into account the author's literary requirements, as well as the ancient background of the core story, it is possible to extract from the PrologueEpilogue of the Book of J o b most of the elements in the core story. Obviously, the existence of a core story does not, preclude the possibility that a series of variants of the J o b story were in circulation. 75 It is hoped that availability of a reasonably acceptable core story would contribute to the resolution of the many inconsistencies between the Prologue and the Epilogue. Juxtaposition of the M T story with the core story should bring into sharper relief the author's literary prowess.76 It should highlight by contrast the author's subtle meanings and intents. 77

75 Weiss, 16 note 1. Weiss says, "Had Ezekiel's listeners known the fate of Job as our story ... tells it, the prophet could not have mentioned Job at all. ... There probably circulated many legends about the righteous Job which told of the hero's lot in many and varied ways." 76 Clines, D. J. A. "False Naivety in the Prologue of Job," HAR 9 (1985) 127-8. Clines says, "Subtle and complex as the argument of the book as a whole is, its naive prologue is no less subtle: it is not some primitive tale that does no more than set the scene for the substantive argument of the dialogues, but a well wrought narrative that plunges directly into issues of substance that reach as deep as the fraught dialogues themselves." Cf. Cooper, A. M., "Reading and Misreading the Prologue in J o b , " / S O T 4 6 (1990) 68. 7 7 1 am indebted to Prof. S. Shnider for his insightful comments.

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER: A RESPONSE TO I. KALIMI, AN ANCIENT ISRAELITE HISTORIAN: STUDIES IN THE CHRONICLER, HIS TIME, PLACE, AND WRITING

G A R Y N . KNOPPERS (ED.) THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY

1. Gary N. Knoppers, Introduction 2. Ehud Ben Zvi, Comments 3. Robert L. Hubbard, Jr., Comments 4. Ralph W. Klein, Comments 5. Gary N. Knoppers, Comments 6. Mark A. Throntveit, Comments 7. I. Kalimi, History, Historiography, Historical Evaluation and Credibility: Chronicles in Its Context: A Response to Reviews of my An Ancient Israelite Historian: Studies in the Chronicler, His Time, Place, and Writing

29

INTRODUCTION

GARY N . KNOPPERS, GUEST EDITOR T H E PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY

It is a pleasure for me as a guest editor to introduce the following discussion of Isaac Kalimi's An Ancient Israelite Historian: Studies in the Chronicler, His Time, Place, and Writing (Studia Semitica Neerlandica, 46; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 2005). A special session of the Chronicles-Ezra-Nehemiah section of the November 2004 Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting was dedicated to honoring and evaluating this recently published book. The chair of the Chronicles-EzraNehemiah section of the Society of Biblical Literature Professor Melody Knowles (of McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago) is to be thanked for all of her work in organizing this special symposium. At the time of the special session in November 2004, the respondents were working from proofs of the book. Happily, the book appeared in its final published form a few months later, in 2005.1 wish to thank each of the respondents: Professor Ehud Ben Zvi of the University of Alberta (Edmonton), Professor Robert L. Hubbard, Jr. of North Park Theological Seminary (Chicago), Professor Ralph W. Klein of the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, and Professor Mark A. Throntveit of Luther Seminary (St. Paul) for their willingness to publish their responses in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures. I also served as one of the respondents and my comments are included below. Finally, I would like to thank Professor Isaac Kalimi of Northwestern University (Evanston) for his extensive commentary on the respondents' comments. Readers should be aware that the following responses were originally given in an oral setting. As a guest editor, I did not ask the respondents to convert their works into formal reviews. This means that the responses still retain some of the stylistic characteristics of reviews 30

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

31

delivered in an originally oral setting. Respondents were allowed to add any footnotes they deemed necessary for readers to understand the flow of their evaluations, but the decision whether to do so was left to the discretion of the individual respondents. One of the advantages to electronic publication is that it furnishes scholars with the opportunity to expand on certain reflections that they could only deliver in a partial or summary form within the very limited temporal confines of an academic meeting. In the case of Professor Kalimi, he has been able to convey in much greater detail in the present context of publication in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures his reactions to the individual papers than he was able to at the meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature in November 2005. In this respect, his extensive response to the respondents is, to no small extent, an essay created for publication in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures. His work includes a series of footnotes, helpfully referring readers to the relevant sections of his new book, as well as to his other publications. I wish to thank the editor of the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, Professor Ehud Ben Zvi for his generosity in publishing this collection of reviews and the response to those reviews by Professor Kalimi. Ehud's tireless efforts to promote a productive scholarly dialogue within the guild are to be applauded and commended. In concluding, I think that I can speak for all of the respondents and for the author as well in saying that we hope that the following discussion will be conducive to further study of the book of Chronicles and its important place within biblical thought.

COMMENTS

EHUD BEN ZVI UNIVERSITY OF ALBERTA 1.

INTRODUCTION

Isaac Kalimi has contributed much to the study of Chronicles and to the present awareness of the sophisticated literary craft that characterizes the book. I enjoyed reading this book, and it certainly made me to think about many core matters associated with Chronicles. All in all, this is an excellent volume, and a must read for scholars of Chronicles. The volume includes two sections of uneven length. The first one deals with the characterization of the Chronicler, his date and his use of paronomasia. In other words, it focuses on the Chronicler. The second section focuses on Jerusalem in the book of Chronicles, and could have been set as an independent monograph. Yet, Jerusalem was the geographical and ideological location of the Chronicler, and as such Jerusalem is part and parcel of Chronicler's world and worldview. This book consists in the main of revised versions of published material. This observation is not meant in any way to lessen its importance. In fact, a qualitative change occurs when all these originally separate works are put together in one book: links are forged, arguments made in one chapter directly relate to, and very often support others made in other chapters and vice versa, a fuller picture of some issues is developed, and the like. The result is that the reader of the book can now understand Kalimi's positions and their implications for the study of Chronicles much better. 2.

COMMENTS

I am very thankful to Isaac Kalimi for his work on Chronicler and I think that those who study this book owe him a debt of gratitude. This book is a major achievement. This is also a book that invites a 32

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

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larger conversation. I would like to contribute to it by raising a few issues that seem to me of larger relevance and which may deserve further discussion. 2.1

BETWEEN

ACTUAL AND IMPLIED

AUTHORS

Kalimi certainly refers to the actual, historical, flesh and blood author of Chronicles. This is his Chronicler. He is certainly not alone in this regard, but he characterizes this author on the basis of the text. For instance, he writes: ... the main literary nature of Chronicles is neither midrashic, nor exegetic, nor theologic. Therefore, to label the Chronicler as "Midrashist," "exegete," or "theologian," as some scholars have, is inaccurate (p. 10). Indeed, a careful study of [the book of] Chronicles reveals that we are dealing with historiography, and so its composer—the Chronicler—should be considered first and foremost as a historian (p. 30).

Kalimi is talking about the flesh and blood, actual author of Chronicles, but is he not referring here to the implied author instead? Does Kalimi assume that whatever one can learn about the implied author directly applies to the actual author? If so, some explanation is warranted. And in any case, why the emphasis on the actual author if most of which one can learn about him actually refers to the implied author? What is at stake? 2.2

ON HISTORIOGRAPHY, ANCIENT ITY OF TEXTS AND HISTORICAL

HISTORIANS, SOURCES

AND

RELIABIL-

Kalimi places much emphasis on the characterization of Chronicles as a historiographical work and on the Chronicler as a historian. N o t many scholars today would disagree with him on this regard whether they refer to the actual or implied author of the book by the term the Chronicler. A far more contentious issue, however, is that despite numerous caveats, Kalimi seems to claim that a historian cannot be accurately described as a midrashist or a theologian, in addition to being a historian. I wonder what the meaning of the term accurate might be in this context. T o illustrate, a person may be both a biblical scholar and a parent, another may be both a chemist and a violinist, and a third one a sociologist and a politician. In which sense would it be inaccurate to label such people biblical scholar, parent, chemist, violinist, sociolo-

34

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

gist or politician? Should the term accurate be understood as pointing exclusively to attributes that refer to the totality of a person, and if so which would these be? Perhaps, accurate inaccurately signifies here that the attribute so characterized is the main and defining one of its bearer. But even if this is the case, certain considerations arise. Certainly historiographical works in the Hebrew Bible could and did include midrashic elements and expressed theological considerations and worldviews, as the book of Chronicles clearly demonstrates. In fact, in the case of Chronicles all these supposedly separate hats are carefully integrated: The intended readers of the book were asked to construe the implied author of the book as a person interested and conveying theological messages and as an exegete who is advancing the proper meaning of various authoritative texts, and who does so within the frame of a narrative about Israel's past. In fact, all these sharp differentiations between ancient Israelite historian, theologian, exegete, midrashist would not have made much sense within the discourse and world of knowledge of the authorship and primary readership of the book. They are more telling of us than of them. (It bears noting that given that those who wrote and read constructions of the past in ancient Israel were convinced of the existence of YHWH and of the deity's ability to cause events to happen as well as of its interest in Israel, a history of an ancient Israel in which YHWH would play no role would be from their perspective either obviously false or an expression of a literary/rhetorical stratagem. The same holds true, of course, for other cultures in ancient Near East. But if a narration of past events is likely to relate to the/a deity/deities actions and wills, then these works are likely in one way or another to communicate a theology. One has to keep in mind that rather than historicity in our terms, the crucial concept for a study of mimetic writing in ancient Israel is the concept of perceived referentiality, that is, of whether the past that a text constructed was believed by the target readerships to be a truthful or believable reflection of past events, within their own discourses and their own understandings of truthful and believable.) I wonder whether Kalimi's strong emphasis on the characterization of the Chronicler as (first and foremost) a historian and of the Chronicler's work as a history is grounded on questions of historicity in our terms, and above all a residual sense that whether the book is

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

35

classified as, or even better, s o l e l y as history has an impact on its perceived value as a historical source. In fact, he explicitly writes, The characterization of the Chronicler and his work has direct implications not only for the understanding of the nature of the book and its content but also for the scholar's assessment of the reliability of the information contained within Chronicles and hence for the book's usefulness as a historical source for the history of Israel in the monarchic era (p. 20).

Just because Chronicler is an example of a national 1 history—which it obviously is, it does not follow that it is necessarily a useful source for the history of Israel in the monarchic era. Joshua and Judges belong to the Deuteronomistic collection, which is another national history, but very few contemporary, critical scholars would consider them as useful sources for the historical reconstruction of the periods they portray. Kalimi himself correctly (in my opinion) maintains that: ,..[i]t should be emphasized that these features [those that led Kalimi to consider the author of Chronicles a historian and his work late biblical historiography; EBZ] do not automatically make the book of Chronicles a reliable historical composition, or its author a "scientific historian," such as Thucydides .... Each case should be evaluated in its own merits ... . (pp. 32-33; italics in the original; on Thucydides see below) ... even if one considers the book [i.e., Chronicles] as "bad history" (that is, as presenting inaccurate information), it is still historiographical in intent and literary nature (p. 33).

But if so, I fail to see how the classification of the work as history may serve as a criterion for a scholar's assessment of the reliability of the information contained within Chronicles and hence for the book's usefulness as a historical source for the history of Israel in the monarchic era. The general question of who was a historian in antiquity or even in ancient Israel alone, and to be more precise, what distinguishes an historiographical narrative from a fictional narrative in antiquity (or if

Of course, the term "national" is not used here in relation to the modern or contemporary notion/s of "nation." 1

36

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

one wishes to narrow the topic, the historiographical repertoire of Persian Yehud) is quite complex, and probably it could not have been discussed in full in this monograph. Yet, it is worth noting that Kalimi explicitly states that an ancient historian would have understood himself as "a narrator/storyteller of past events" (p. 31). A number of questions arise if one accepts this self-definition and relates it to the attribute historian in our own terms. F o r instance, the narrator of Esther or Judith also claims to refer to past events. If self-identification as a narrator of past events qualifies someone as a historian then what about these books? Moreover, why social memories must be told only in narrative style? What about references to a long sequence of the past events in poetic style (Ps 106)? I would suggest and I tend to think that Kalimi would agree that additional criteria other than the selfperception of the narrator/author as a story teller of past events must be taken into account in any attempt to define the genre "ancient historiographical work." It bears noting that the significance of Kalimi's substantial contributions to the study of the literary techniques at use in Chronicles and the point that he makes that the Chronicler is a "creative artist with a variegated range of literary and historiographical talents" (p. 36) are by no means restricted to their potential contribution to Chronicles' historical credibility or lack thereof. In fact, I am not sure that they contribute much to that question, beyond the obvious. I am reminded of the recent press release of AP (Nov. 10, 2004, 10:53 P.M. ET) concerning the death of Iris Chang, who wrote about the Japanese occupation of China and of the history of Chinese immigrants in the United States. It read, "[t]he late historian Stephen Ambrose described Chang as 'may be the best historian we've got. She understands that to communicate history, you've got to tell the story in an interesting way.'" 2 Whether we agree with that concept of history or not, certainly in the ancient world, histories were written to be interesting, and used numerous literary devices to achieve that goal. Historians were sophisticated writers. O f course, these considerations bear relevance to discus2 The quotation from S. Ambrose and the entire news release are available online in the archives of media organizations. See, for instance, http://www.usatoday.com/life/people/2004-ll-10-chang-obit x.htm, http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6456679/ See also http://faculty.washington.edu/kendo/iris.html

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

37

sions about the ways in which the periods, events and characters portrayed in historiographical narratives may or may not be used for historical reconstructions. It is w o r t h remembering in this regard that Kalimi raises the example of Thucydides as a "scientific historian" (pp. 32-33), whose w o r k serves as a stark contrast to the ways of Chronicler. Even if both are historians, the former was a "scientific historian," the latter, certainly not. Of course, n o one would doubt that there are substantial differences between the two. But at the same time, it w o r t h stressing that the case for Thucydides w h o m Kalimi and many others portray as a "scientific historian" and therefore implicitly as some kind of ancient paragon of historical reliability has become more and more debated. W . R. C o n n o r , for one, writes "[w]e have n o w almost stopped talking about Thucydides as a 'scientific historian." 3 The ability of Thucydides' writing to convince many readers—including modern ones—of the veracity of his account is not necessarily related to its higher degree of "historicity." Instead it tends to be explained, at least by some scholars, in terms of narrative features and strategies, use or lack of use of genre conventions and the like. 4 My point is certainly not to suggest that Kalimi should have devoted a large section of his book to Thucydides, but that some reference to these debates is warranted, for they carry implications for the study of ancient Israelite (Yehudite?) historiography, and directly bear on the issue of the historical reliability—in our sense of the term—of ancient historiographical sources. A passing reference elsewhere in the volume raises similar issues, though this time it relates to a very different corpus of texts and historical circumstance. Kalimi writes in passing, 3

W. R. Connor, "Narrative Discourse in Thucydides," M. H. Jameson (ed.), The Greek Historians. Literature and History. Papers Presented to A. E. Rauhitschek (Dept. of Classics, Stanford University; Saratoga, CA: ANMA Libri; 1985), 1-17; citation from p. 2. 4 See, for instance, both the chapter by W. R. Connors mentioned above and P. Robinson, "Why Do We Believe Thucydides? A Comment on W. R. Connor's 'Narrative Discourse in Thucydides,'" The Greek Historians, pp. 1923. On these matters see also M. Grant, Greek & Roman Historians: Information and Misinformation (London & New York: Routledge, 1995), and esp. pp. 34-36. (Collingwood's, well-known critical evaluation of Thucydides' approach is also worth keeping in mind.)

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

Indeed, due to the admirable personality of Cyrus on the one hand and the great antagonism that Nabonidus caused on the other, Babylon did not fall in war ... (p. 149). Kalimi here, as many others before him, reflects a pro-Achaemenid version of the events, the character of Cyrus, and an associated denigration of that of Nabonidus. Certainly, there are ancient sources that construed, supported and propagated this image, but does this version reflect the "historical reality" of the events? There are now considerable doubts. 5 But if Kuhrt is correct, what does this say about the reliability of the information contained in these sources and hence for their usefulness as a historical source for the history of Persia and Babylonia (to paraphrase Kalimi; cf. p. 20)? In sum, it seems to me that questions concerning historicity, the usefulness of constructions of the pasts in ancient times as historical sources for the circumstances, people, and events that they portray, as well as inherently related issues of genres, literary and rhetorical resources used by ancient historians, and particularly in the case of Chronicles the integrative and interwoven character in which appear in the book what we today may call history, theology, exegesis are all a bit more complex that what seems to transpire in this volume. T o be fair, it might be claimed that this book is not particularly suited to address these general questions in a comprehensive manner, but, this said, one cannot but notice that these issues have some bearing on assumptions present in, or claims advanced in the volume. Perhaps Kalimi would be willing to write a new monograph to address these general issues in a comprehensive way. If this is the case, I, for one, would be looking forward to reading it. 2.3

ON THE IMPLICATIONS OF TWO HISTORIES WITHIN THE SAME COMMUNITY

I agree with Kalimi that "the Chronicler's description of Israelite history in the monarchic era is not intended to replace earlier historical writings" (p. 36), but I would have preferred if he would discuss the implications of the presence and acceptance of two different histories 5 See A. Kuhrt, "Nabonidus and the Babylonian Priesthood," M. Beard and J. North (eds.), Pagan Priests. Religion and Power in the Ancient World (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1990), 119-55.

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within one single community of readers. What was and could be different? What was not and could not be different? What implications about social memory in Yehud can we drawn from the fact that two stories of the past, at times contradictory, were held to be simultaneously true. Sure, these are my type of questions, but as conversation partner of Kalimi, I would have liked him to address them. What does he think of these questions? 2.4

ON CHRONICLES

AND

EZRA-NEHEMIAH

Kalimi maintains that Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah "should be considered as two distinct pieces composed by different authors, the latter having been written prior to the former" (p. 145; see also pp. 54-56). There is no doubt in my mind that Kalimi, and many others, are absolutely correct on the matter of the different authorship, but which book is earlier than the other might be an issue more difficult to adjudicate. It is not only that recent studies have suggested a relatively late (post-Achaemenid) date for Ezra-Nehemiah at least in its final form, but also one of particular textual relations and their significance. To illustrate, Kalimi noticed elsewhere that there is a clear textual relationship between the prayer of Solomon in Kings, in Second Chronicles, and that of Nehemiah in the book of Ezra-Nehemiah. 6 (It is worth stressing that Kalimi does not refer to the book of Nehemiah, or to any of its proposed precursors/sources, but rather to EzraNehemiah, see p. 145 and also pp. 54-56.) In l Kgs 8:52 one reads, ^ n y runirbist nirma iprj? nrrf?—'"Let your eyes be open to the plea of your servant" (NRSV). in 2 c h r 6:40 nipran rfrarf? niniyp ^ x x ] nirma iprj? N r f i r ntH—"Let your eyes be open and your ears attentive to prayer from this place" (NRSV). In Neh 1:6, •^ny nVarrbist y n v b n i m n a T r y ] n n ^ p - ^ m w 'rm—"Let your ear be attentive and your eyes open to hear the prayer of your servant" (NRSV). In principle, the relation of textual dependence between Chronicles and Nehemiah in this particular case can go either way. One can certainly imagine that the author of Nehemiah attempted to associate 6

See I. Kalimi, The Reshaping ofAncient Israelite History in Chronicles (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 129-30.

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his hero to some Solomonic images and used the two texts (Kings and Chronicles) that were available to this writer. Of course, if Chronicles is later than Nehemiah as Kalimi maintains, then the direction of dependence must go the other way. If the latter is the case (that is, the author of Chronicles added Nehemianic characteristics to Solomon that were not present in Kings), then it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the Chronicler looked very favorably on the figure of Nehemiah—in fact, it has to be seen as a type of hero for this writers—and, indirectly, on the book of Ezra-Nehemiah. But is this likely? Chronicles clearly advances positions opposite to Ezra-Nehemiah on such a central theme as marriages with non-Israelites.7 Kalimi, himself, points at a number of significant ideological differences between the two works. 2.5

ON THE CONCLUSION

OF THE BOOK OF

CHRONICLES

I agree with Kalimi that the decree of Cyrus is not an addendum to Chronicles; certainly it is not an addendum to the book in present form and with some aspects of his discussion there. I would like to focus on two of his claims that could be explored further and consequently modified. According to Kalimi, the very ending of the book TLn irap rrfrK nirp i r a y - ^ p n m - ' P "Whoever is among you of all his people, may the LORD his God be with him! Let him go up" (NRSV) in 2 Chr 36:23 represents a call for immigration to Judah/Israel. The Chronicler wished to conclude the book with such a call, due to the lack of population in Jerusalem/Yehud in his days. Kalimi also maintains that the last sentence in the version of the decree in Ezra 1:4 with its reference to those who remain behind was not included because "[t]he Chronicler probably considers this [that is, the existence of people who remained in Babylon] as a disgraceful situation, and therefore also an inappropriate conclusion to his work" (p. 153). To be sure, the idea of full return from exile was a very substantial element in the social and ideological constructions of Utopias by the Jerusalemite literati and is reflected in much of the Hebrew Bible. This 7

On Chronicles's position on "mixed" marriages see G. N . Knoppers, "Intermarriage, Social Complexity and Ethnic Diversity in the Genealogy of Judah," JBL 120 (2001) 15-30; A. Labahn and E. Ben Zvi, "Observations on Women in the Genealogies of 1 Chronicles 1-9," Bib 84 (2003) 457-78.

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is certainly the case in prophetic literature. This conceptual element is significantly often related to that of the re-unification of Judah and Israel, often under a Davidide. I have no doubt also that from this perspective the very existence of diaspora, the separation between Judah and Israel, and the lack of a Davidide are a disgrace that at some point in the future will be removed. Chronicles shares with many other texts such a hope. 8 But the main focus of Chronicles is not on fulfilling utopia or hopes for a far distant future. Moreover, Jerusalemite readers of the book during the Achaemenid or early Hellenistic period knew all too well that many of Israel did listen to Cyrus' suggestion and did not immigrate, even if according to the text they certainly could. The ending of the book is both an implied call for immigration and at the same time a strong reminder of a choice that already took place, of a choice that within the Chronicler's ideology must have been associated with the will of the deity and which was as inexplicable as that of the secession of the kingdom, which is directly grounded in that will. As such, I do not see why the readers of Chronicles would think that people during their days would be influenced by the call of the Chronicler when they rejected that of Cyrus. I tend to think that Chronicles assumes that (a) all Israel will come back one day to Jerusalem/Judah, but (b) human hopes aside, this will happen when Y H W H decides that it be so. Till this day, within the discourse of Chronicles and much of the prophetic literature, there is not much real hope for a removal of the disgrace of exile or related disgraces for that matter, T o be sure, Chronicles marginalizes those who remained outside the land, but there is more than a sense of disgrace about their choice. The text communicates a sense of total exclusion from the implied narrative of reconstruction. They are not mentioned as potential donors of goods or the like to be sent for the sake of building the temple. The builders of the temple, the community and above all those who con-

One may note that in 2 Chr 6:36-40 the Israelites, who are taken into captivity and exiled to nearby or faraway lands because of their sins. In exile they repent, pray in the direction of "the land" in general and Jerusalem in particular, and towards or through the Temple. The text concludes with an expression of hope that Y H W H will forgive and, one assumes, restore them from exile. The text certainly conveys a sense that being outside "the land" is in itself a punishment, 8

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tinue to develop the sacral history of Israel are according to Chronicles those in the land. In the large, inner-Yehudite debate about the possible roles of non-Yehudite worshipers of the Israelite deity in Jerusalem/Yehud, the Chronicler stakes a clear position. 9 In sum, concerning most of these issues, Kalimi is on the right track but in my opinion one is to walk further in that track. I would like to invite him to do so. 3.

IN SUM

All in all, and notwithstanding the all-too-expected differences of opinion and approach here and there, I would like to conclude by emphasizing both Kalimi's great contribution to the study of Chronicles through the years and the particular importance of this volume. The fact that the latter raises all these types of issues—and many more— certainly attests to its value. As I conclude these comments, I am looking forward to reading the author's responses. But I am looking forward to more than that. I am looking forward to hearing Kalimi's voice on Chronicles for many years to come, and to keep learning from his contributions.

discussed these matters at some length in my chapter, "Ideological Constructions of Non-Yehudite/Peripheral Israel in Achaemenid Yehud: The Case of the Book of Chronicles," originally a paper presented at the 2004 meeting of the European Seminar for Historical Methodology," and forthcoming in a revised version in E. Ben Zvi, History, Literature and Theology in the Book of Chronicles (London: Equinox, forthcoming 2006). 91

COMMENTS

ROBERT L. HUBBARD, JR. NORTH PARK THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY What may one say about someone who devotes nearly two decades of his life to the study of Chronicles? Several words come immediately to mind—some complimentary and some not. With this volume, Professor Kalimi—always the eager, diligent miner seeking precious nuggets with his shining scholarly headlamp—displays his most recent discoveries from the rich, complex literary mother lode that is Chronicles. His book presents seven of his earlier studies, in updated and expanded form, and debuts two previously unpublished ones. His purpose is clear: to isolate the most likely date and historical setting of the Chronicler in order to understand more precisely the book's message for that day. To that end, the three chapters of Part I argue for a probable date of composition in the early fourth century B.C.E., identify the Chronicler's setting as Jerusalem, and review his clever use of paronomasia. The final seven chapters of Part II explore the topic of Jerusalem in the Chronistic Writing by comparing Chronicles with other biblical and post-biblical writings. As with my co-respondents, my remarks aim to assess Kalimi's work and to stimulate discussion both of his views and of the Chronicles literature itself. At the very outset of my discussion, I assure the author that I come not to bury him but to appraise him. There is, indeed, much to praise in this book. The gathering into one place and the revision of articles otherwise scattered in various scholarly venues performs a genuine service. The author's detailed study of the book (for example, his careful analysis of the Chronicler's paronomasia in chapter three), and his comparison of Chronicles with all kinds of ancient sources are especially noteworthy. My one minor quibble with the word-play chapter is Kalimi's narrow definition of 43

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paronomasia. He limits it to puns between words with similar roots or consonantal sounds but with differing meanings (p. 67), whereas I prefer a broader definition, one along the lines of Jack Sasson's taxonomy in his article on word play in the Interpreter's Bible Supplementary Volume. The latter distinguishes between visual and oral wordplay and includes other wordplay phenomena that Kalimi's definition excludes (e.g., assonance, onomatopoeia, etc.). One wonders whether pursuit of "wordplay" in a broad sense—or, at least, one that distinguishes "puns on roots" from "plays on sounds"—might have yielded more raw ore from which to assay additional precious nuggets of paronomasia in Chronicles. As a teacher, I commend Kalimi for using chapter summaries to great effect, teasing out his main points that might otherwise be missed amid the thicket of textual and historical details. I also applaud his methodology of treating Chronicles, not as a free-floating, rootless piece of literature, but as a writing that arose in a setting, gave voice to the writer's passionate beliefs, and addressed an audience—as it still does. Also, the book offers the reader many "ah-ha" moments, that is, memorable, captivating insights. As a "canon critic" myself, I was struck (and even tentatively persuaded) by his suggestion that the rabbis made Chronicles the last book in order to end the canon on a positive, if not "Zionistic," note—a move perhaps aimed at encouraging Jews who had suffered the terrible events of 70 C.E. (pp. 156-57). Finally, I find the evidence that he marshals (chapter 2) to defend his proposed date for the book in the Persian (as opposed to the Hellenistic) period persuasive. But, if I read him correctly, one important pillar in his argument needs shoring up. Concerning the number of generations after Zerubbabel (1 Chr. 3), Kalimi prefers the Masoretic Text (that is, six generations) over the Septuagint (that is, eleven). But the rationale for that preference is not clear (at least not to me, anyway) and its absence undermines his otherwise persuasive case (pp. 5659). If I may venture a thought of my own, the proximate location of the LXX translators and the Akabia tomb suggests a possible explanation for the Septuagint's larger number. If the Alexandrian tomb were familiar to the translators, and if they identified Akabia with Akkub of 1 Chronicles 3:24, those assumptions might have led them to extend their list to eleven descendants. If so, that number would say more about the date of LXX Chronicles than it does about the Masoretic Text.

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This leads me to move from praise to appraisal—to identify areas worthy of discussion, if not of dispute. Given the limits of space, I limit myself to three items and one wild concluding reflection. The first item concerns Kalimi's definition of Chronicles as historiography—more specifically, late biblical historiography (p. 39; cf. p. 10)— and the Chronicler as an historian. I concur with Kalimi that interpretations of the Chronicler as midrashist, exegete, and theologian fail to capture fully the heart of the matter—in my view, the question of the book's genre. I am also in sympathy with his contention that Chronicles "represents the principle of 'each generation with its own historiography'"—that is, that its message targets "a different time, place and audience" from those of earlier historiographic works (p. 37). Kalimi rightly stresses the Chronicler's creative use of his varied biblical and Israelite sources, but my question is, what kind of historiography does the book present? A brief comparison with Herodotus, a chronological contemporary of the Chronicler, may be helpful here. Herodotus also uses sources, occasionally presenting their differing reports on an incident or differing interpretations, and occasionally voicing his own opinion on the matter. But, unlike the Chronicler's preoccupation with biblical sources, he draws on both Greek and non-Greek sources, often speaks in the first (not the third) person, and seems not to conflate, alter, or reword them. John Marineóla insightfully describes his history as more of a "natural history" than a typical history. This brief comparison helps us see the nature of the Chronicler's historiography. With Kalimi, I may reject Van Seters' characterization of Chronicles as "plagiarism" (p. 36), but I still wonder what genre label describes a "history" whose contents virtually repeat its sources verbatim without admitting it and whose author freely conflates, alters, supplements, and rewrites his sources, again without giving notice. In my view, an apparently unique approach is at work here, one unlike that of Herodotus and ordinary modern history-writing. I am struck by how the Chronicler's method compares to the phenomenon of "inner-biblical exegesis" and wonder whether one might describe his historiography as inner-biblical exegesis, but one that is exercised on a vast scale. In my view, to describe Chronicles simply as "historiography" seems not to reckon adequately with the book's literary form— or, at least, that some discussion as to the kind of history present is in order. The second area for discussion concerns two specific texts that I would read differently from Kalimi. The first is the problematic 1

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Chronicles 11:6, whose reworking of 2 Samuel 5:8 Kalimi ably dissects (pp. 95-103). I am less persuaded, however, by his case against the historical reliability of the text (pp. 104-7). The evidence he presents of a contradiction—for example, that Joab already was chief of David's army (2 Sam. 2 and 3), rather than that he earned the post by conquering Jerusalem (1 Chr 11:6)—in my view may be read differently. In context, the 2 Samuel texts concern David's army as King of Judah, whereas 1 Chronicles 11:6 follows David's coronation by all Israel and, hence, concerns the army of united Israel. The Chronicler's account seems simply to conflate the two phases of 2 Samuel 2 and 5 and seeks—as Kalimi rightly avers—to clarify his obscure Vorlage (p. 100). If so, in my view, the claim of contradiction loses some of its force. Second, in his interpretation of the book's ending (2 Chr 36:2223), Kalimi argues (convincingly, I think) that the ending is original to the book and comprises a fragmentary form of the Hebrew citation of Cyrus' decree in Ezra 1 (pp. 143-53). A comparison of the two highlights Temple rebuilding as the centerpiece for the Chronicler and his several omissions, especially the closing provision that non-returnees be given supplies for the Temple by their neighbors. Thus, Chronicles ends, not with the "disgraceful" mention of non-returnees (Kalimi's term, p. 153) but with the command, "So, let him go up!"—in Kalimi's view, a possible call for immigration by Jewish communities in Babylon and Egypt. Kalimi regards this ending as "a comforting royal decree from the king of Persia, which enables a new 'exodus' and re-creation of a better future" (p. 155). That the decree fulfills various prophecies gives the call added weight. Alas, here the proverbial risky limb beckons me to propose an alternative. While Kalimi's view is certainly possible, it strikes me as odd that, to my knowledge, nothing in Chronicles anticipates this immigration theme (certainly not 2 Chr. 30:9 as Kalimi claims [p. 153, n. 40]). The book's stress on proper cultic worship would seem more consistent with a call for diaspora Jews to worship in Jerusalem rather than to emigrate there. Since the Temple already stood completed, the crux of the matter concerns the use of the Temple as the rationale for return. Is the argument, "The Temple has been rebuilt, so come back here to live?" Or: "The Temple has been rebuilt, so come here to worship?" Certainty eludes us, of course, but for the purpose of discussion I suggest that the concluding "So, let him go up!" marks not a call for immigration but a call for pilgrimage—that is, not to repopulate the Temple-City but to frequent the Temple's courts.

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Finally, I offer a wild concluding reflection. Kalimi makes much of the contrast between the Chronicler's "realistic" view of Jerusalem over against the idealistic, Utopian, and eschatological view of the prophets and post-biblical writings. But my muse lures me to wonder whether the Chronicler's view is in the end just as idealistic and Utopian, albeit in a more subtle way. Are not the David and Jerusalem of his history just as much a fantasy—a city of long ago that no longer exists presided over by a revered king whose dynasty no longer is in power? Is the real question not whether the Chronicler's view is realistic or idealistic but why he thought that that fantasy had the power to inspire hope in his audience? What may one say about someone who devotes nearly two decades of his life to the study of Chronicles? Several words come immediately to mind—some complimentary and some not. I recall Peter Craigie's comment concerning Mitchell Dahood's now-infamous habit of reading Hebrew as if it were Ugaritic: if only a few of Dahood's comparisons prove true, he said, those few make his efforts worthwhile. The same is true of the Kalimi volume reviewed here: however many of his interpretations one assays as genuine, those surviving nuggets are invaluable. But surely there are many, and even the rest serve us well by stimulating us to join Kalimi in mining that rich theological, historical, and literary mother lode called Chronicles.

COMMENTS

RALPH W . KLEIN LUTHERAN SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY For more than twenty years Isaac Kalimi has issued a steady stream of publications on Chronicles, including a number of oral presentations in this vibrant section of the SBL. All of us have profited enormously from his Classified Bibliography published almost fifteen years ago. Now he has topped off this record with two monographs: 1. The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles, previously published in earlier, shorter and quite different editions in both German and Hebrew; and 2. the book under review in this session: An Ancient Israelite Historian. Studies in the Chronicler: His Time, Place and Writing. I want to congratulate Isaac for his insight and industry and thank him publicly for what we all have learned from him about this fascinating author we call the Chronicler. The volume to which we are responding consists of nine chapters or essays, seven of which have been published previously, in fact within the last decade in some form, although Kalimi assures us all of these have been expanded, corrected, and brought up to date. He adopts centrist, mainstream positions, widely held by scholars, particularly in North America. He identifies Chronicles as a work distinct from Ezra and Nehemiah, largely free of secondary passages, and dated to the first quarter of the fourth century B.C.E. I would only comment here that some of these conclusions need to be stated with a bit more nuance. His most definitive data for dating Chronicles to the first quarter of the fourth century is the genealogy of the Davidides in 1 Chronicles 3 (pp. 56-59). I wish he had stated more explicitly that a terminus a quo is also provided by the completion of the present book of Ezra-Nehemiah, which the Chronicler seems to presuppose in his citation of Ezra 1 in 2 Chr 36:22-23 and in his citation of verses from Nehemiah 11 in 1 Chronicles 9. 48

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Part I of this volume deals with the Chronicler's time and place and the characteristics of his writing; Part II of this volume deals in a variety of ways with the Chronicler's place, namely, Jerusalem. Each essay is copiously documented with bibliographical references, well-organized, and ends with a clear summary/conclusion. A chapter on the uses of puns or paronomasia expands slightly on his previous publications in this area, but would seem to me more appropriate for his other volume mentioned above that deals with the literary devices utilized by the Chronicler. The first essay in the volume under review deals with the Chronicler as historian and begins with the following questions every reader faces: "Was [this literary composition] meant to be fiction or history, literary narrative or historical novel, commentary or theology?" (p. 19). A few lines later we are told that the characterization of the Chronicler and his work has direct implications not only for the understanding of the nature of the book and its content but also for the scholar's assessment of the reliability of the information contained within Chronicles and hence for the book's usefulness as a historical source for the history of the Israel in the monarchic era. Kalimi then criticizes three alternate proposals: the Chronicler as midrashist (Julius Wellhausen), the Chronicler as an exegete (Thomas Willi), and the Chronicler as theologian (Peter Ackroyd, Richard Coggins, and William Johnstone). I find myself in substantial agreement with his critique of Wellhausen and Willi, with the following proviso. In arguing against Willi he concludes that the books of Samuel and Kings were by no means canonical for the Chronicler in that the Chronicler did not treat them as immutable, sealed books that one may strive only to explain and comprehend in their given form (p. 25). This definition of canonical strikes me as anachronistic and one-sided. The evidence from Qumran of different versions or editions of books that later were unanimously held to be canonical—Jeremiah comes to mind or even the Palestinian editions of the Pentateuch—suggests that "authoritative"/canonical works may have been treated in a variety of ways and not only as immutable, sealed books. I agree with Kalimi that Chronicles is not a commentary on Samuel-Kings and even that the Chronicler presupposed that his audience would be quite familiar with the alternate version in Samuel Kings. Clearly, the Chronicler had a different interpretation of the monarchical period that he wanted to put forth, but it is by no means clear, at least to me, whether the Chronicler thought his work should be read alongside Samuel-Kings or

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whether he hoped his work would replace it. At some time, we know not when, what most of us call the Deuteronomistic History was identified in Judaism as the "Former Prophets" and surely therefore was not to be replaced. Toward the end of his critique of the Chronicler as theologian, Kalimi observes: "In other words, as a historian the Chronicler's ideological [or theological] presuppositions guided his historiography" (p. 28). Nevertheless, Kalimi concludes that the main feature of the Chronicler's work is history—not theology—though it is indeed a "sacred history" and not a "secular history." And—again I quote: "Therefore, the Chronicler is primarily a historian rather than a theologian" (p. 29). This conclusion is built in large part on assertion rather than argument, and this leads to the following reflections on Kalimi's own thesis of the Chronicler being a historian. Kalimi calls attention to certain historiographic features of Chronicles: the author deals with the past, collected material from earlier books and possibly additional sources, selects, evaluates, and interprets these sources and makes connections between them, and his work as a whole is imprinted with a unique historiography. Kalimi goes on to state that the Chronicler understood himself as a narrator or storyteller of past events, that is, in western terminology a "historian." (p. 31). Kalimi considers the author a historian and his work as late biblical historiography. He admits that the features discussed do not automatically make the book of Chronicles a reliable historical composition, or its author a scientific historian such as Thucydides. After dismissing the views of Robert Pfeiffer who considered Chronicles historical fiction, John Jarick who dubs it "fantasy literature," and John Van Seters who labeled it "plagiarism," Kalimi concludes that the Chronicler is a skilled professional historian and Chronicles is an impressive attempt to organize material into a single comprehensive and systematic work. He states that according to our knowledge of the sources, it is the first of its kind in the Second Temple Period (p. 37), but of course the final editing of the Deuteronomistic History may have extended into that period and in any case it would be widely known. Kalimi concludes that Chronicles is neither Midrash nor commentary nor theology and that the Chronicler cannot be considered as a midrashist, commentator, or theologian. It is this either/or conclusion, however, that worries me. Kalimi himself admits that there are midrashic elements in Chronicles and if the Chronicler is not a commentator on Samuel and Kings, he is surely

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a commentator on the history therein recounted. And why should we make his role as theologian/historian an either/or choice? The Chronicler does not fit easily into any of our literary categories. Here is my own summary of Chronicles (that is too long to fit on a bumper sticker): Chronicles is largely a literary narrative about Israel's past, focused primarily on the story of the Davidic line of kings who ruled in Jerusalem and prefaced by a collection of genealogies that links Israel back to the first human and to the ancestral figure of Abraham while sketching out the totality of what might be meant by Israel by recording the genealogies of each of the tribes. The first chapter of 1 Chronicles, excerpted exclusively from Genesis, gives the genealogy from Adam to Abraham, or Adam to Israel if you wish, and portrays Israel against the backdrop of, or in the context of, all the nations of the world. The narrative itself is largely a rewriting of Samuel and Kings, interspersed with major paragraphs of the Chronicler's own composition. The theological agenda of this composition stresses especially the importance and legitimacy of the temple in Jerusalem, its clergy, and its sacrificial rites, also and especially, at least by implication, for the author's own time and audience. Here ends my summary of Chronicles. I am comfortable with calling that theology or theological history, but I am not comfortable with saying that the Chronicler is a historian and not a theologian. There is a defensiveness about the Chronicler who has to write one of the longest books in the Old Testament in order to uphold the authority of the Jerusalem temple, its clergy, and its sacrificial rites. Hence it is also an apologetic work that implies an awareness that some of his contemporaries were not willing to concede his points about the temple, its clergy, and its rites. Let us consider briefly in this regard two major units in Chronicles. Second Chronicles 1-9 tells the story of Solomon and his building of the temple, a section in which the Chronicler had very little, if any, additional data, but where he wanted to tell the history differently, for theological reasons. Hence he leaves out the Deuteronomistic Historians's indictment of Solomon from 1 Kings 11, and has Huram cede cities to Solomon rather than the other way around. In both cases I would classify the Chronicler more as a theologian than as a historian. O r what about the lavish preparations of David for the building of the temple in 1 Chronicles 22 and 28-29, or the seamless transition in power from David to Solomon with no opposing Adonijah or conniv-

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ing Bathsheba and Nathan in sight? I do not begrudge calling that "history, properly understood," although I think I would call it primarily theological in intent, designed to enhance the roles of David and Solomon as temple founders. Finally, on this point, I am uneasy about Kalimi's assertion that the characterization of the Chronicler as historian has direct implications for the scholar's assessment of the reliability of the information contained within Chronicles and hence for the book's usefulness as a historical source for the history of Israel in the monarchic period (p. 20). Was this literary composition meant to be fiction or history? Kalimi asks. History, probably, but some of the Chronicler's information such as the tonnage of David's donation in silver and gold and the numbers used throughout the corpus are fiction. Was Chronicles a literary narrative or historical novel? Probably a literary narrative, but this narrative has some qualities in common with the much later genre we call historical novel. Was it commentary or theology? Yes, on theology, and yes on commentary if we mean by that that the Chronicler was commenting on the history presented in Samuel and especially Kings. On the second half of Kalimi's book, dealing with Jerusalem, I can be much more brief because I am in substantial agreement with most parts of it. Here are a few issues on which I would welcome further research from Isaac Kalimi or collegial conversation with him: • W h y does the Chronicler portray Joab more positively in contrast with Samuel and Kings? Does it have anything to do with the descendants of Joab mentioned in Ezra 2:6//Neh 7:11 and Ezra 8:9? While we might think that these are two different Joabs, the Chronicler may have equated them and therefore felt he needed to enhance the status of Joab. • I am fascinated by Kalimi's proposal that the positioning of Chronicles as the last book in the Tanakh has to do with the open-ended invitation by Cyrus for Jews to make aliyah to Jerusalem, even perhaps after the destruction of the temple in 70 C.E. At the same time I am somewhat skeptical of his view of the final chapter in Kings reporting the "end" of history (p. 154). Kalimi himself argues for the originality of 2 Chr 36:2223 against a whole host of modern commentators, but he accepts, much too easily in m y judgment, that the account of the release and rehabilitation of Jehoiachin is only a secondary af-

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terthought in Kings. Those who argue that the promise to David is a leading leit motif in Samuel and Kings see these four verses as reassurance to the reader that the promise to David is still alive. If readers were to follow the Deuteronomist's repeated admonition to return or repent, might God not once more send some kind of deliverer since he still stands behind the promise to David? •

One new essay in this volume, comprising chapter six, discusses "The Eternal City: Jerusalem' versus v City of David.'" Kalimi writes that in spite of the Chronicler's admiration for King David, he does not make systematic use of the new name City of David and tried to minimize its appearance (p. 107). The fact remains however that the Chronicler uses "city of David" nineteen times. Kalimi cites one case in which "the city of David" becomes "the city of Judah" (2 Chr 25:28//2 Kgs 14:20) although I think textual corruption is still a possibility here. In another case, he notes that "the city of David" is replaced by "Jerusalem" (2 Chr 28:27//2 Kgs 16:20), but this is the burial notice of Ahaz, and the Chronicler also adds that "they did not bring Ahaz to the graves of the kings of Israel," and this addition renders the replacement of "city of David" by "Jerusalem" of little consequence. On two occasions Kalimi claims that the Chronicler drops the name "city of David." But in one case the Chronicler not only drops the phrase "city of David," but he incorporates nothing at all from the verse in question (1 Kgs 2:10 David's burial notice—David is not buried in Chronicles). The other omission (1 Chr 15:25//2 Sam 6:12) might reflect only the Chronicler's attempt to straighten out the awkward syntax of his Vorlage. A literal translation of 2 Sam 6:12 would be: "So David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom the city of David with joy." Most translators, Kalimi included, add the preposition "to" before "the city of David." Rather than make this addition, the Chronicler omitted the awkward phrase which may have struck the Chronicler as a solecism. In short, the Chronicler's nineteen uses of "the city of David" in comparison to

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eighteen in his Vorlage hardly seem like an unsystematic use of the expression or minimizing its appearance. Let me end my response on a different note. The leaders of our SBL section invited this panel to honor Isaac Kalimi for his great accomplishments and to continue the dialogue that Isaac always initiates and invites. I am pleased with this opportunity to enter that dialogue and to give due honor to our author.

COMMENTS

GARY N . KNOPPERS THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY Over the past two decades, Isaac Kalimi has been one of the most active and prolific writers on the book of Chronicles within the fields of biblical studies and Jewish studies. 1 Like many recent scholars, Kalimi takes the Chronicler's work to comprise only the book of Chronicles (and not to include Ezra-Nehemiah). In his published works, including his most recent book (here under review), Kalimi defends the proposition that there was only one edition of the Chronicler's work and that the Chronicler was responsible for writing the entire book of Chronicles, including the genealogies of 1 Chronicles 1-9, the lists of 1 Chronicles 23-27, and other disputed sections, such as the decree of Cyrus that rounds out the work (2 Chr 36:22-23). Kalimi argues that Chronicles is a well-planned, well-organized, and coherent historiographie work, even though he acknowledges that the book also contains various inconsistencies, contradictions, misunderstandings, and historical misjudgments due to the particular ways that the Chronicler construed and reworked his sources. 2 In a shorter form, this review was originally presented in an open forum honoring and evaluating Kalimi's book in the Chronicles-Ezra-Nehemiah section of the annual meeting of the SBL in San Antonio (2004). I would like to thank the chair (Professor Melody Knowles) and the members of the Chronicles-Ezra-Nehemiah steering committee of the SBL for organizing a very good session dedicated to assessing Isaac Kalimi's latest book. For the sake of adjusting the review to the present context in JHS, a few expansions, minor editorial changes, and updates have been made to the essay. 2 See, for instance, his Zur Geschichtsschreibung des Chronisten: Literarisch-historiographische Abweichungen der Chronik von ihren Paralleltexten in den Samuel-und Königsbüchern (BZAW 226; Berlin/New York: de 1

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In this review, I wish to begin by contextualizing the present book within the history of Isaac Kalimi's earlier writings. I will then comment on the present work. In the course of this essay, I will also raise some questions for further discussion with respect to each major section of the work. I hope that these questions and suggestions will stimulate further commentary and reflection within the larger context of the field. As I look at the history of Isaac Kalimi's published works, I see four primary foci. The first is bibliographical. One of the first works I saw published by the author was his The Books of Chronicles: A Classified Bibliography (Jerusalem: Simor) published in 1990. This work represents a fine assemblage of studies published on the book of Chronicles dating to medieval and modern times. As I prepared my own commentary on 1 Chronicles, 3 I found this comprehensive bibliography to be a most useful and handy work. The second focus of the author's research has been on the literary aspects of the Chronicler's writing. This area has been an especially productive part of his research program. One thinks not only of the many articles Kalimi has published on literary topics, but also of two of his books, the first being his Zur Geschichtsschreibung des Chronisten (1995), a revision of the author's 1989 dissertation at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. The second is his 2000 book written in Hebrew, entitled The Book of Chronicles: Historical Writing and Literary Devices (BEL 18; Jerusalem: Bialik Institute), a work that has been translated, revised, expanded, and updated by the author, and published by Eisenbrauns Press as The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005). Among the topics explored by these two books are the methods employed by the Chronicler to handle older biblical sources including historiographical corrections, additions influenced by other biblical sources, clarifications, deletions, replacement of a given name by an equivalent one, harmonizations, allusions, descriptions of persons, chiasms, repetitive resumptions, "measure for measure" adjustments, inGruyter, 1995) 326-47. 3 Gary N. Knoppers, I Chronicles 1-9. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 12; New York: Doubleday, 2004); idem, I Chronicles 10-29. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 12A; New York: Doubleday, 2004).

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clusios, antitheses, comparisons, Leitworte, and numerical patterns. As the author states in his preface, "Obviously, this study represents my latest research and opinion on the subject" (The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, p. xiii). In many respects, Kalimi's analysis of the Chronicler as an early interpreter and literary writer may be fruitfully compared to other treatments of the Chronicler's exposition and interpretation of older biblical writings, such as the works of Peter Ackroyd, Sara Japhet, Thomas Willi, Hugh Williamson, and Marc Brettler. 4 The particular strength of Kalimi's study lies in its detailed, meticulous, and systematic analysis of the Chronicler's literary craft in handling his major biblical sources. What some others have taken to be random or odd features of the Chronicler's writing Kalimi has been able to show are an integral part of a larger pattern of interpreting and applying older texts to a new context and literary setting. Kalimi views the Chronicler very much as a creative artist who was equally adept in handling his various Vorlagen and in challenging their central contentions, when he wished to do so. It should be noted that although the writer views the Chronicler as a versatile artist, he does not endorse the recent literary-critical trend to read Chronicles on its own terms as a self-contained literary work. O n the contrary, he thinks that Chronicles should always be interpreted with a view to antecedent literature, especially literary works that the Chronicler himself employed within his own composition {An Ancient Israelite Historian, pp. 37-38). It will be interesting to see how this ongoing debate between those who wish to focus on Chronicles as a literary work unto itself and those, such as Kalimi, who only wish to treat Chronicles in the context of earlier writings will play out in the years ahead. A third and very productive focus of Kalimi's research has been on the history of interpretation. In this context, one thinks of the many articles the author has published on this subject as well as three

P. R. Ackroyd, Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah (TBC; London: SCM, 1973); idem, "The Chronicler as Exegete,"/50T2 (1977) 2-32; S. Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and its Place in Biblical Thought (BEATAJ 9; Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1989); T. Willi, Die Chronik als Auslegung (FRLANT 106; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972); H. G. M. Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982); M. Z. Brettler, The Creation of History in Ancient Israel (London: Routledge, 1995). 4

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recent and current books: Das Chronikbuch in der jüdischen Tradition von Daniel bis Spinoza (OUR 91; Oldenburg: BIS Verlag der Universität Oldenburg, 1997), which, unfortunately, I have not seen; his more recent Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversies (JCH 2; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 2002); and his forthcoming The Book of Chronicles in Jewish Tradition and Exegesis: Interpretation, Reception and Impact-History from Earliest Times to the Beginning of Modern Biblical Scholarship (JSOTSup 415; London and New York: Continuum T. & T. Clark International). This latest writing, which will appear soon (in 2006), may be fruitfully compared to the investigations of those scholars working on the reception history of certain Old Testament books in the Christian tradition. 5 In his study, Kalimi sheds new light on the history of Chronicles interpretation from early times until the dawn of critical (biblical) scholarship in the seventeenth century. The author's coverage includes not only translators, exegetes, and theologians, but also literary writers, artists, and philosophers. In this way, the modern reader gains new access to the many diverse contexts within Jewish culture in which the Chronicler's text has been actualized through the ages. As the author himself observes, the second part of his research program, the study of the Chronicler's literary craft, is very much related to the third part of his research program, namely the history of interpretation, because many of these exegetical and literary devices employed by the Chronicler anticipate those employed by postbiblical interpreters in Classical Judaism. Kalimi thus belongs to a growing group of scholars, such as Michael Fishbane, James Kugel, and Bernard Levinson, who have been trained in both biblical studies and in Jewish Studies.6 These scholars have helpfully demonstrated a series of conti-

5

See, for example, J. F. A. Sawyer, The Fifth Gospel—Isaiah in the History of Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996) and Brevard S. Childs, The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004). 6 M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), J. L. Kugel, "Early Interpretation: The Common Background of Late Forms of Biblical Exegesis," in Early Biblical Interpretation, ed. J. L. Kugel and R. A. Greer (Library of Early Christianity 3; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986) 9-106; B. M. Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of legal Innovation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997).

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nuities between the literary techniques employed by late biblical authors and those employed in Classical Judaism. I think that it is fair to say that Kalimi's present work is more historically oriented than most of his earlier works. In this respect, Kalimi's new book opens up a fourth area of research. The work is comprised of nine essays, two of which are new. The rest appear as revised and, in some cases, expanded versions of previously published articles and book chapters. In some respects, one could argue that the present book is really two books in one. "Part One, The Chronicler, His Time, and His Writing" focuses on the historical context of the Chronicler, his time period, and the historical nature of his work. 7 "Part Two, The Chronicler and His Place," by far the larger section of the book, focuses on the status of and emphasis placed on Jerusalem in Chronicles. The volume closes with a bibliography and extensive indices—biblical sources, ancient biblical versions, Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Dead Sea Scrolls, ancient Near Eastern texts, Greek and Roman authors, Jewish Hellenistic Writings, Rabbinic Literature, Jewish medieval writings, New Testament, early Christian writings, and modern authors. The first two chapters of Part One deal with the characterization of the Chronicler and his writing, the date of the book and the possible relation of the Chronicler's text to the Elephantine papyri (re. the Davidic genealogy in 1 Chronicles 3), and the El-Ibrahimiah grave inscription. In the latter case, Kalimi wishes to dispute the possibility of a connection between this tomb inscription and the temporal context of the Chronicler's work. Recognizing a number of possibilities, Kalimi dates the Chronicler's work to the last part of the fifth century or the early part of the fourth century B.C.E. (pp. 31, 56-61, 64-65). Like Ackroyd and others, Kalimi thinks that the work evinces no parallels with or influences from Classical or Hellenistic historiography. I wish to return to this issue later. In this first section of the book, the writer defends the notion that Chronicles is a form of history writing, over against the competing views that Chronicles is theology, exegesis, or midrash. Expanding, revising, and elaborating on his earlier chapter 7

In my view, the third chapter in the book, dealing with a literary issue— the "Utilization of the Pun/Paronomasia in the Chronistic Writing" (pp. 6781)—functions more as a bridge to the second part of the book than as a conclusion to the first section of the work.

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dealing with the issue of history writing in the book, The Chronicler as Historian, Kalimi defends the proposition that the Chronicler was a historian on a number of different grounds.8 One is form-critical—the nature of the Chronicler's work as narrating the past. Another is the proposition that the Chronicler sifted, selected from, evaluated, and interpreted earlier biblical sources (pp. 29-32). I am sympathetic to the view that the Chronicler's work is a form of historical writing, although one that is heavily theological in nature, highly stylized, and deeply indebted to the work of earlier biblical authors, but I think that it would be useful if Kalimi further clarified his argument that the Chronicler historically evaluated his sources. This is especially important in light of the author's assertion that the Chronicler's work is "primarily" (p. 9, emphasis of the author) about the Chronicler's own time and message and not about the period of the monarchy.9 To take one example, in his chapter (7) entitled, "The Twilight of Jerusalem: King Jehoiachin and the Temple's Vessels in the Deuteronomistic History and Chronistic History," the author argues that the Chronicler, when faced contradictory assessments of the fate of the temple vessels in Jeremiah and Kings, harmonized the two sources within his own work. This is a creative and intriguing suggestion. If Kalimi is correct, such a reading of the two earlier writings on the Chronicler's part involved a careful assessment of both works. Is this what Kalimi means by evaluation? Or does he mean something more fundamental? For example, Sara Japhet has argued that the Chronicler consciously avoided including some of the miraculous and sensational stories found in earlier works, such as Samuel-Kings, within his own work.10 Similarly, she argues that the Chronicler's work, in 8 1. Kalimi, "Was the Chronicler a Historian?" in The Chronicler as Historian, ed. M. P. Graham, K. G. Hoglund, and S. L. McKenzie (JSOTSup 238; Sheffield: J S O T Press, 1997) 73-89. 9 In one context, the author states that "it seems likely that he [the Chronicler] understood himself as a narrator/storyteller of past events, that is, in western terminology, a v historian'" (p. 31). This would bring Kalimi's view close to that of Marc Brettler (Creation of History, 12), but in a footnote it seems that the author wishes to distance himself somewhat from this point of view: "There is, however, poetry in the Hebrew Bible that relates the past as well (i.e., Num 21,27-30; Judges 5; Ps 78-79; 106, and maybe also 83)" (p. 31, n. 58). 10 Ideology of the Book of Chronicles, 125-49, 428-44, 467-91.

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contradistinction from the compositional technique employed by the authors of the book of Samuel, generally avoids delving into the personal, private affairs of the major characters he narrates within his work. Such a historiographical stance involves a deliberate sifting and assessment of sources on an author's part based on a self-conscious determination of what might be properly considered the subject of a national history. Is this the sort of evaluation that Kalimi thinks that the Chronicler undertook or does he mean something else? To this, one may add another question: does the author think that the fact that the Chronicler wrote a historical work placed any constraints on him? That is, are there any limitations on what the author might have said or did not say about the past, given the fact that he chose to write a history, rather than a midrash or a short novel? If so, what might these constraints consist of? Part Two of Kalimi's new book, "The Chronicler and His Place: Jerusalem in the Chronistic Writing," is composed of six chapters, ranging from the view of Jerusalem in the genealogies that open the book to the place of Jerusalem in the decree of Cyrus that ends the book. The connection, I think, between the first part of the book and the second is that because Jerusalem is understood to be the home of the Chronicler, his treatment of Jerusalem relates directly to his own conception of the town and its value for his people, and is influenced by the circumstances of the town as it existed in his own time. There is much in this section of the book to profit from, both in the detailed comparisons made between the depictions of Jerusalem in SamuelKings and those in Chronicles and in the detailed comparisons made between the representation of Jerusalem in Chronicles and the representation of Jerusalem in later Jewish compositions. Kalimi argues, successfully I think, that Jerusalem is pivotal to the Chronicler's presentation of Israel, to his theological orientation, and to his understanding of his own religion. In fact, the writer suggests that the Chronicler may have himself been a temple servant working in Jerusalem. As a spur to further discussion, allow me to raise some questions. First, a rather fundamental and rudimentary consideration—what does the author think the Chronicler's Vorlagen of Samuel and Kings looked like? In some cases, he acknowledges variants from the LXX and the Dead Sea Scrolls that differ from the MT of Samuel-Kings. In other cases, in fact most other cases, he seems to assume that the Chronicler's Vorlagen of Samuel and Kings were basically identical to the MT. Two examples will suffice. In his chapter (5) dealing with the

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capture of Jerusalem in Samuel and Chronicles, he operates from the premise that the Chronicler attempted to reconcile, explain, and smooth out the problems found within his very difficult Vorlage (pp. 95-98). This may so, but other scholars, including some commentators on Samuel, such as Hertzberg, McCarter, and Trebolle Barrera, have contended that at least part of the Samuel text is a later addition.11 This would make ascertaining the exact nature of the Chronicler's source text, in this instance, to be a complicated enterprise. A second example involves the Chronicler's treatment of the Babylonian exile (chapter 7). As Kalimi and others observe, the Chronicler's version of the final years of the Judahite kingdom is much shorter than that found in Kings. Kalimi contends that the Chronicler greatly abridged his Vorlage and focused on an issue that was most dear to him—the fate of the temple vessels. Again, this may be so, but other scholars, including Steven McKenzie, Baruch Halpern, and David Vanderhooft, have argued that the Chronicler's Vorlage for the final chapters of Kings was shorter than MT Kings and did not contain certain features, such as the names of the Judahite queen mothers.12 It would be useful and interesting if Kalimi would engage these arguments in some detail.13 Another question involves the contention that the Chronicler's treatment of Jerusalem is neither visionary nor eschatological in nature. In his chapters, "The Eternal City: 'Jerusalem' versus 'City of David'" (chapter 6) and "Jerusalem—The Divine City: The Representa11 H. W. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1964); P. K. McCarter, II Samuel (AB 9; Garden City, N Y : Doubleday, 1984); J. Trebolle Barrera, Centena in Libros Samuelis et Regum. Variantes Textuales y Composición literaria en los libros de Samuel y Reyes (Textos y Estudios "Cardinal Cisneros" 47; Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Instituto de Filología, 1989). 12 S. L. McKenzie, The Chronicler's Use of the Deuteronomistic History (HSM 33; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985); B. Halpern, and D. S. Vanderhooft, ""The Editions of Kings in the 7th-6th Centuries B.C.E.," HUCA 62 (1991) 179-244. See also the related article by H. G. M. Williamson, "The Death of Josiah and the Continuing Development of the Deuteronomic History," VT 32 (1982) 242-47. 13 In one footnote, Kalimi acknowledges the opinion of McKenzie (The Chronicler's Use of the Deuteronomistic History, 186), namely that the Chronicler was working with a different source than M T Kings, and categorizes this view as "an easy solution" (p. 118, n.12).

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tion of Jerusalem in Chronicles Compared with Earlier and Later Jewish Compositions" (chapter 8), Kalimi advances the position that the Chronicler espouses a very favorable view of Jerusalem as a city endowed with holiness and spiritual superiority, but studiously avoids developing grand futuristic visions of the city in the manner of some later writers. This seems to me to be near the mark, but I wonder whether describing the Chronicler's depictions of Jerusalem and its temple as essentially "realistic" is the best way to characterize his work (pp. 131-41). Would not a realistic view of Jerusalem involve depicting it as a small town and would not a realistic view of the temple involve depicting it as a small royal chapel? It may be argued that the book of Chronicles contains highly idealized notions of the First Temple. For example, the work depicts immense quantities of materiel, gold, and silver being devoted to the sanctuary by David and representatives of the nation (1 Chr 22:2-5, 14-16; 29:1-9), as well as the presentation of a tabnit, along the lines of the tabernacle's tabnit, for the future temple planned by David and constructed by Solomon (1 Chr 28:11-19). 1 4 There are many differences between Chronicles and apocalyptic writings. Nevertheless, could one not say that in some respects the Chronicler projects into the past what other writers project into the future? Finally, to return to the matter of the Chronicler's context and his times, the author takes issue with my drawing some parallels between the highly-structured system of segmented and multi-linear genealogies found in 1 Chronicles 1-9 and the highly-segmented and multi-linear genealogical works attested in Classical sources. 15 He mistakenly asserts that I posit a "genetic relationship between Chronicles and the Hellenic writings" (p. 50). While it is true that I state that "Yehud was initially isolated from western influence," in the context of my own article I am referring to the late sixth and early-fifth centuries B.C.E., not to the entire postexilic period. It must be acknowledged that Isaac and I seem to have some different assumptions about how 14 The importance of 1 Chr 28:11-19 is acknowledged by Kalimi (p. 134), but cited with reference to the temple alone (and not to the Jerusalem of which the temple was a part). 15 G. N. Knoppers, "Greek Historiography and the Chronicler's History: A Reexamination of an Alleged Non-relationship," JBL 122 (2003) 627-50. In his book, Kalimi also makes a series of fruitful comparisons between the work of the Chronicler and the works of Classical historians. In this context, see also his contribution to the present symposium.

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the Persian empire functioned in relation to the West, what changes the Persian period brought to the southern Levant, and what kinds of cultural interaction might have taken place during the latter part of this era. Following the work of historians, such as Pierre Briant and Joseph Wiesehofer, and the work of archaeologists, such as Ephraim Stern, I view late Persian and early Hellenistic times as a period of great flux, an era of significant trade, and the occasion of interaction among a variety of cultures. 16 It may be, however, that Kalimi sees this same time in the southern Levant as a period of great cultural isolation. 1 7 If so, this may be another issue worth discussing in the context of the larger field. 18 In sum, there is much to benefit from in this work. Perhaps both the book and the many different reviews written about the book (themselves a tribute to this book and to the broader achievements of P. Briant, Histoire de I'Empire perse; De Cyrus a Alexandre (Achaemenid History 10; Paris: Fayard, 1996); J. Wiesehofer, Ancient Persia from 550 Be to 650 AD (London: I. B. Tauris, 1996); E. Stern, "Between Persia and Greece: Trade, Administration, and Warfare in the Persian and Hellenistic Periods," in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy (London: Leicester University Press, 1995) 432-45; idem, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, vol. II: The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods 732-332 B.C.E. (ABRL; New York: Doubleday, 2001). 17 In the published book he acknowledges, however, "western material influence (such as numismatics, pottery, weights, etc. which could be moved easily by any trader, visitor and so forth)" (p. 50). I should add that the numismatics, seals, glyptics, and bullae that I am thinking of consist not so much of imports (although these exist), but rather of native products whose imagery, motifs, and style betray western influence. 18 As I observe in my commentary (I Chronicles 1-9, 101-5), the phenomenon of parallels between some features of the Chronicler's composition and those of some of the Classical writers does not entail that Chronicles is a late work. Many earlier commentators thought that the (putative) lack of such parallels meant that the Chronicler's work had to predate the Macedonian conquest (construed to be the time in which such western influences began to manifest themselves within the history of the southern Levant and hence the time in which literary parallels could originate). But, if significant trade and travel between east and west occurred in the context of the larger Mediterranean world prior to the arrival of Alexander, the time of Alexander cannot be used any longer as a terminus ante quern benchmark for the composition of the Chronicler's work. That is, the parallels in certain styles of literary composition cannot be explained simply as a Hellenistic development. 16

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Kalimi's career) will stimulate further research on the work of the Chronicler, his literary craft, his many interpretive techniques in handling older works, the larger setting in which this often-neglected ancient writer lived, and the different ways in which his writing was (re)appropriated by later interpreters.

COMMENTS

MARK A . THRONTVEIT LUTHER SEMINARY

Let me begin by thanking the committee for inviting me to be a respondent to Isaac Kalimi's new book on the Chronicler. I have enjoyed Isaac's work over the years and also have learned a great deal as many of my unexamined presuppositions regarding these marvelous, if somewhat mysterious books were effectively, if not always efficiently challenged. Lhe collection of much of Isaac's seminal work, in English, under one cover, is surely a matter for rejoicing and I would like to thank Van Gorcum for their decision to do so. Having served as the book editor of a theological journal for almost fifteen years now (I had no idea it was a life sentence) I have read way too many reviews to be easily swayed by either the overly obsequious or the downright damning responses that seem to typify the genre. I much prefer, though rarely get to see, subtly nuanced assessments such as Moses Hadas provided in a rather cynical review over 40 years ago, and I quote: "Lhis book fills a much-needed gap." Apparently assuming either that the so-called "gap" did not need filling, or that the "gap" was of greater value than the book that filled it! Lhankfully, Kalimi's work on the Chronicler does not fill a muchneeded, gap in our understanding of these books, but rather provides us with a coherent and judicious investigation of several complex and important issues. His analysis of the importance of Jerusalem for the Chronicler is especially rewarding. Also to be welcomed is the wealth of insight from ancient and medieval Jewish sources that enhances his presentation, as well as the reliable guidance through the sometimes perplexing maze of the Chronicler's literary tropes and conventions that he provides. In general, we are led through many of the thorny questions that have bedeviled this material since Ezra the Scribe first 66

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looked back on the Books of Chronicles and exclaimed to Nehemiah over a double latte, "Did I really write ... that?" When one comes last in a panel of respondents, one has the sinking feeling that one's little insights will already have been more eloquently expressed and one's little quibbles with the offering under review will already have been exposed. Nevertheless, one has to speak about that which one knows, and so, I would like to confine my remarks to the first section of Isaac's book, and especially with the characterization of the Chronicler which Kalimi usefully reviews under four major interpretations of the Chronicler as Midrashist, Exegete, Theologian, and Historian, ultimately opting for "Historian" or as Isaac (somewhat facetiously, methinks) suggests, "Chronicler." 1) First of all, Wellhausen, as the arch-Midrashist, is booed and hissed for: • His intention to (quote) "destroy the credibility of Chronicles as an historical source for pre-exilic Israelite history" •

His support of von Ranke's historicist methodology of depicting how things actually happened using only contemporary documents and apart from interpretation, and • His alleged anti-Jewish proclivities (pp. 22-23). Apart from the entirely correct observation that, "our definition and understanding of historiography have changed: 'history' definitely is not only 'facts' and 'documents,' and the task of the historian is not limited to show 'wie es eigentlich gewesen,'" (p. 22), however, these remarks are statements, ad hominem assertions. We hear no arguments as to why Wellhausen was misguided in his unflattering characterization of the Chronicler, only that Professor Kalimi disagrees. And since the first rule of debate is that assertion demands counter assertion, we can almost hear Wellhausen reply from the grave, "He is, too, a Midrashist!" 2) Secondly, if Wellhausen serves as the foil for Kalimi's dismissal of those who see the Chronicler as a Midrashist, Thomas Willi represents those who see the Chronicler as an Exegete of the presumably canonical texts found in the Pentateuch and Samuel-Kings. Here, I find myself in basic agreement with Isaac, if, as Willi claims, exegesis has to do with the writing of a commentary. Clearly the synoptic portions of the books of Chronicles are not a commentary; whether or not they are exegesis is, however, another matter. Exegesis is not a sermon, but it is desirable for preachers to engage in exegesis. Exegesis is not theol-

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ogy, but it is desirable for theologians to engage in exegesis. If, as Kalimi states, Willi's neglect of the non-synoptic portions of the Chronicler's work tells against Chronicles as a commentary (p. 24) what prevents us from making the most of Roddy Braun's perceptive insight (cited by Kalimi, himself, in the next section, p. 28) that these Chronistic additions themselves "might best be viewed as ... an early example of theological interpretation or the writing of biblical commentary." 3) Thirdly, turning to the Chronicler as Theologian, Kalimi claims that scholars such as Peter Ackroyd, R. J. Coggins, William Johnstone, and Roddy Braun have mistaken sacred history for theology, since "God is always involved in human activity, in the making of history—whether directly or indirectly," (p. 28), and since the Chronicler is thus writing "history" he is therefore "primarily a historian rather than a theologian" (p. 29). Again, no critique of the carefully articulated position of these scholars is offered. More serious, in my opinion, is the somewhat circular nature of the argument, which seems to redefine theology as history and then points to the historical nature of the theology ... now seen to be history. By this line of reasoning, since God is always involved in human activity, by definition, does not all human activity become history? I confess that I find this section somewhat confusing. 4) In the final section Kalimi offers five reasons for characterizing the Chronicler as a Historian, that is, one who: • Deals with the past • Collects material from earlier sources • Selects, evaluates, and interprets those sources • Draws connections between these sources, and • Has imprinted his work as a whole with a unique historiography (p. 30). Perhaps Albert Schweitzer's observation about those questing for the so-called historical Jesus ... that the picture of Jesus rendered by the questors says as much about them as it does about the "real" Jesus ... is apropos here, as well. Three of the designations (Exegete, Theologian, and Historian), at least in Kalimi's critique of those who have proposed them as characterizing the Chronicler, are rather modern ideological constructs. The Chronicler was neither what we understand a modern exegete, theologian, or historian to be any more than he was a Democrat, Republican, or Green Party member. Proposing modern vocational conceptions as characteristic of the Chronicler's work or

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activity seems to me to be akin to asking the question, "What would Jesus drive?" interesting, thought-provoking, edifying, perhaps, but essentially conjectural. And, yet, given our propensity to engage in such anachronistic taxonomies, Kalimi's survey and critique is especially helpful in the discussion of how context influences the interpretation of scripture. The very fact that reputable scholarship has been able to make a case for each of the aforementioned pigeonholes, when coupled with the palpable observation that none of them can adequately account for all of the Chronicler's various materials and modes of communication, suggests that the demand or expectation of an exclusive designation be it Theologian, Historian, or what have you contributes to the problem rather than the solution. Perhaps we should break down the interpretive boundaries and assemble a "combinush" of perspectives in our quest to understand the Chronicler and his work. Since this is precisely what Isaac has done in the rest of his book as he examines the "midrash-esque" phenomenon of the Chronicler's paronomasia, and explores the theological differences between the Chronistic and Deuteronomistic conceptions of Jerusalem while he elucidates the Chronicler's historical relevance, I assume my friend will not take offense at these terse observations.

HISTORY, HISTORIOGRAPHY, H I S T O R I C A L EVALUATION, A N D C R E D I B I L I T Y — C H R O N I C L E S IN I T S C O N T E X T : A R E S P O N S E T O REVIEWS OF AN ANCIENT ISRAELITE HISTORIAN: STUDIES IN THE CHRONICLER, HIS TIME, PLACE, AND WRITING

ISAAC KALIMI NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY 1.

INTRODUCTORY WORDS

T h e essay opens with an overall response to all reviewers in general. 1 H e r e I will express, expand and sharpen the main features, to cite J o h a n Wolfgang von Goethe, die grossen Zügen ("the big lines") of some of m y views concerning history, historiography, historical evaluation and credibility, the main nature of Chronicles as a whole, its methods, sources / Vorlagefn), place, age and historical context. Furthermore, I will comment on some particular issues (die kleinen Zügen) that were raised by colleagues. Finally, it ends with some concluding words. 1 The volume was published in the series: Studia Semitica Neerlandica, 46 (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 2005). I would like to thank the chair, Professor Melody Knowles, and the members of the section of Chronicles-EzraNehemiah Steering Committee for honoring me with a magnificent session at the annual meeting of the A A R / S B L in San Antonio (November 21, 2004). My thanks extend further to those colleagues who took the time to review my volume, and for their kind, complimentary words.

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2.

2.1

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T H E CHRONICLER, HIS WRITING, SOURCES, METHODS, AGE, AND CONTEXT PROLOGUE

The volume under review is compiled material from my most recent focus on the fundamental issues of Chronicles, that is, its main genre; the date of its composition; the place of the author—Jerusalem, and the link between these and his writing. Researching these issues is not just satisfying the intellectual curiosity of the modern reader about one of the largest and most neglected books of the Hebrew Bible. Rather, these are vital issues that have direct implications for understanding the book, its content, its purpose, and credibility as a source for the history of Israel in the monarchic period, as well as for understanding the development of Judaism in the Second Temple era. Let us turn to these points in further detail. In order to understand any literary composition and fully appreciate its value, the reader must know its precise nature and the author's intention. Was it in essence meant to be fiction or history, literary narrative or historical novel, commentary or theological text? One also is required to know as much as possible about the author: his/her personality, place and exact time/period in history prior to studying the composition itself. It is important to read the book within its sociocultural environment, religious and historical setting. Unfortunately, this is not the case with this late biblical composition. As is the case with many other biblical writers, the Chronicler 2 did not directly volunteer any information about himself, his time, place, and—except in so far as he refers to some supposed earlier writings—his work. He preferred to remain completely anonymous, and did not even provide a basic preface, such as that of some Greek historians, for instance Thucydides (born between 460 and 455 and died ca.

2 1 do not think that "whatever one can learn about the implied author directly applies to the actual author." However, somehow one must refer to the composition's writer. Since in fact we do not know anything about the actual author (see Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 19-20), and since I am of the opinion that the vast majority of Chronicles—if not almost all of it—had been written by one author, it means, the book is largely free of later additions, I chose to name that anonymous author "the Chronicler," as is customary in biblical scholarship.

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400 B.C.E.): "Thucydides, an Athenian, wrote the history of the war waged by the Peloponnesians and the Athenians against one another" (The Peloponnesian War, 1,1). Thus, the modern scholar should carefully study the book and, on the basis of this study, form some necessary conclusions about the writer, his time, place, and historical setting as well as about the main nature of his work and its purpose(s). 2.2

HISTORY, HISTORIOGRAPHY,

AND HISTORICAL

CREDIBILITY

If past times were neglectful to the Chronicler and his book, since they received relatively only marginal attention, 3 modern times are even tougher on them. Indeed, a society that is in awe of science, including "history" as a sort of science, accepts the Chronicler and his composition as everything else but a "real" history. Does this attitude really reflect in fact what we have in front of us in the book of Chronicles? Is really the Chronicler no more than a copyist / plagiarist / fantasist / midrashist / exegete / just another "biblical" theologian, etc. etc.? Or, is he, primarily, a historian with his own logic, legitimate goals and within his historical context as well as within an ancient and "biblical" world? This volume, along with my other studies on Chronicles, attempts to provide justice to this unique composition and its author. It concludes that the main literary nature of Chronicles is neither Midrash nor commentary nor theology. None of these definitions grasps the full picture of the book. Therefore, the Chronicler cannot be considered as a midrashist, exegete or theologian. 4 He is first and foremost a historian and the major literary nature of his book, the book 3 See I. Kalimi, The Book of Chronicles in Jewish Tradition and Exegesis: Interpretation, reception and impact—History from earliest times to the Beginning of Modern Biblical Scholarship (JSOTSup 415; London and New York: Continuum T. & T. Clark International, 2006), forthcoming. 4 To be sure, one person could be labeled with various titles. He could be a midrashist, an exegete, a theologian, a historian, and the like. However, my characterization of 'the Chronicler' as a historian is based on the only writing that we have—the book of Chronicles. Once again, in my view, the definition that fully catches the heart of the issue, in one word, is 'historiography' (or, if you wish, a form of historical writing), accordingly the author is, first and foremost, a 'historian.' It is worthwhile to mention that my conclusion: "the Chronicler is primarily a historian rather than a theologian" (p. 29), is based on solid arguments as detailed on pp. 28-29 and note 50.

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as a whole, is historiography (or to be more exact, a sacred-didactic historiography, that is, its philosophy of history is, in fact, mainly theological and its purpose is didactical in nature). In any case, the book as a whole cannot be labeled as historical fiction or fantasy literature as some scholars assert in modern times, without investing any genuine intellectual effort to understand it. T o be sure, this does not mean that there are no fictional elements in Chronicles. Thus, for instance, the tremendous amount of gold that David collected for the Temple building (1 Chr 29,1-9), and the fantastic numbers of Israelite and Judahite armed forces (2 Chr 13,2) are unrealistic. However, this sort of exaggerations easily could be found all over the Hebrew Bible (e.g., Exod 12,37-38), including the early historical books, and in the ancient Near Eastern documentation; for example, the large numbers of the Israelite and Judahite soldiers in 2 Sam 24,9; the enormous richness of Solomon as related in 1 Kgs 9-10; the unreasonable large numbers of the enemy's loss reported in the Assyrian inscriptions, 5 and later on, the large numbers given by some of the Hellenistic and Roman historians. 6 There are also some prayers and speeches that the Chronicler ascribed to various kings (and prophets)— as he understood them—rather they took place in reality (at least not 5 For example, according to the Kurkh Monolith-Inscription (lines 96-102) the total loss of the anti-Assyrian coalition in Qarqar was 14,000 soldiers—a large number in any case. However, this number increases in the following years' reports of the same battle: in the Black Obelisk (lines 54-66): 20,500 men; according to the Bull-Inscription from Calah the number is 25,000; and on the statue of Shalmanesser III, king of Assyria from 828 B.C.E., 29,000 men. The Assyrian scribes' attempt, therefore, to glorify the king by exaggerating the enemy's losses. See J. B. Pritchard (ed.), Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (= ANET; 3rd edn. with Supplement; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 279a, 279b; W. W. Hallo et al. (ed.) The Context of Scripture: Canonical Compositions, Monumental Inscriptions and. Archival Documents from the Biblical World (=COS), II, 261-64 (264). 6 Thus, for instance, while according to Polybius the loss of Hannibal's army in the Metaurus battle (207 B.C.E.) was about 20,000 men (15.14; see W. R. Paton, Polybius: The Historian [London: William Heinemann / New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1925], vol. IV, p. 497); Titus Livius (= Livy; 59 B.C.E.17 C.E.) reports an extremely exaggerated number of the loss, namely 56,000 (27.49; see F. G. Moore, Livy: With an English Translation [LCL; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press / London: William Heinemann, 1943] vol. VII, 405).

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in the form and content that they were presented in the book). F o r example, the speeches and prayer of David (1 Chr 21,7-16; 28,2-10; 29,1-5.10-19); the speech of Abijah (2 Chr 13,4-12); Jehoshaphat (2 Chr 20,6-12); and Hezekiah (2 C h r 29,5-11;30,6-9). However, these sorts of fictional elements could easily be found in the books of Samuel and Kings (e.g., the prayer of Hannah, 1 Sam 2,1-10; the testament of David, 1 Kgs 2,2-10; the prayer of Solomon, 1 Kgs 8,12-53), as well as in the works of Classical, Hellenistic, and Roman historiography, such as some speeches in Thucydides, 7 Josephus (Bellum Judaicum 7,332388), and 1 Macc (2,48-69). Is there any serious scholar who doubts the main literary feature of these books as historical writing? O f course, there are also several theological elements in the book of Chronicles. But these sorts of elements mainly appear also in Kings (e.g., 1 Kings 8; 2 Kings 17) as well as in various sources from ancient Near Eastern documents, such as the Mesha inscription, the Assyrian royal inscriptions, and the Cyrus Cylinder. N o one defines the major literary feature of these materials as theology. Moreover, the Chronicler is not simply a "copyist" or a "plagiarist" as defined by some researchers; one who worked in the method of "cut" and "paste." These definitions are indeed unjust to the Chronicler. He is rather a creative artist, a historian. 8 My definition of the work as a whole "historiography" and its author as "historian," certainly does not depend on the 'questions of historicity' of Chronicles. It also does not depend only on the 'selfperception of the narrator/author as a story teller of the past events.' It rather depends on essential additional criteria as they clearly reflect on the book itself: the Chronicler selects material from earlier "biblical" writings, and evaluates them. 9 He reorganizes and edits the material in the order, context, and form he finds appropriate. He makes connections between the texts that he collects; stylizes, reshapes, and interprets some of them, as a historian who wishes to make the sources that

See The Peloponnesian War, 1.20-21; 1.140; II.35ff.; 11.64; III; V . l l l - 1 1 8 . This feature appears also in the writings of Herodotus, Titus Livius in his History of Rome from its foundation; and many other Greek, Hellenistic, and Roman historians. 8 See I. Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 407-9. 9 On this issue, see in detail, below, in this essay. 7

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he used in his book available to his audience.10 The Chronicler also attempts to express his "philosophy" of history (or, if you wish, his "theology;" e.g., 2 Chr 13) via the composition and so created a literary work that fits well within late biblical historical writing. 11 Now, all of these features do not automatically make the book of Chronicles a reliable historical composition overall, or its author a "scientific historian." 12 The main purpose of the Chronicler—like many Greek, Hellenistic, and Roman historians in different times and places—was not precise analysis of the "documents" and accurate description of the past events "as they actually happened." These criteria, which dominate the conceptions of some historians in the past (such as Thucydides and Polybius) and in modern times, were not prioritized by the Chronicler, and it is wrong to judge him according to them. The Chronicler rather uses the early texts/sources to advance his practical, social, political, moral, and religious agenda. He guides his audience by providing "historical" descriptions of national personalities 10 Indeed, from the canonical perspective, this phenomenon could be named 'inner-biblical interpretation' as well. Thus, for example, he replaces an uncommon word with a common one: compare 1 Kgs 9,5: TTOl ~iU?iO, with 2 Chr 7,18: TTO 2 Kgs 21,8: nniNH jn bH-\w b n Virb fpDN nVi, with 2 Chr 33,8: n m n n bpa ^ t a w b n n¡x -von1? ^DN NVI. He paraphrases difficult phrases, such as p n n TN N^TOAN W N MYX Vip N¡X -jpnun TPI (2 Sam 5,24), and writes: NNNBAB NOT TN n^taan W N MYXN Vip N¡X -jpnun TPI (1 Chr 14,15). Sometimes the Chronicler clarifies his sources by omitting unclear idioms and phrases, in order to make them comprehensible to his audience. Thus, for instance, in the story on the capture of Jerusalem (compare 1 Chr 11,4.6 with 2 Sam 5,6.8). The Chronicler also brings some other texts into harmony with each other in order to ease the mind of his unlearned readers. See Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 154-56. 11 All these criteria are detailed in the volume. See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 29-39. 12 In order to illustrate my argumentation concerning the quality of the Chronicler as historian, I contrast him with that of Thucydides, for instance. It would be correct to mention in that context also the Greek historian of Rome, Polybius (ca. 200-ca. 118 B.C.E.), alongside Thucydides. However, this volume is really not the most appropriate platform to discuss the Greek historians and their works, even not within a short section. In my view, it is completely out of place, and certainly there is no need to protest unnecessary erudition.

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who carefully observed (e.g., David and Solomon)—or did not observe (e.g., Saul)—the Torah's commandments. As such, these personalities could be set as an example for the Chronicler's contemporary audience and for future times as well (so, historia est magistra vitae).13 These kinds of concerns from the side of the Chronicler are not just due to his "theological" concerns and doctrines. He probably uses them to guide his society how to behave and how not to in order to exist, as a small community surrounded by troublesome neighbors. At the same time the Chronicler updates the texts' language, style, and literary forms, as well as alters some of their informative contents and shapes their religious messages. The plausibility of the book as a source for the pre-exilic period is an entirely different issue from its main literary nature. The reliability problem of Chronicles should not overshadow the evaluation of the work's main literary nature as historiography. Even if one considers the book as "poor history" (that is, as presenting inaccurate information), it is still historiographical in intent and literary nature. N o one denies that Herodotus has numerous unreliable speeches and stories in his Historia, but neither does one deny that his book is a history nor that its author should be considered a historian. Indeed, Herodotus himself stresses: "My obligation is to record what people say, but I am by no means bound to believe it—and that may be taken to apply to this book as a whole" (Historia, VII 152). It is inappropriate to deny the historical credibility of Chronicles as a whole by labeling it as Midrash, 14 commentary, theology, fantasy

13

40.

See Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 140-58, 310-311, 339-

14 A cautious reading of the volume's first chapter (especially 20-23), furnishes the reader with complete arguments as to why Julius Wellhausen was misguided in his characterization of Chronicles and its author. Briefly, Wellhausen's intention was, first and foremost, to date the Priestly Codex (P) in the post-exilic era, while situating the Deuteronomistic Codex (D) in the monarchic era. Consequently, the books of Samuel and Kings contain earlier sources which are woven together and edited by the Deuteronomist according to the theological lines and spirit of Deuteronomy. The Chronicler, who lived hundreds of years later, used the books of Samuel-Kings as his raw material, worked in a midrashic mode on them according to the dictates of the Priestly Code. While Chronicles represents Judaism and Jews in general, who moved in a midrashic sphere, Samuel-Kings represents, in every sense, the ancient

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literature, etc. Since there are a n u m b e r of reliable historical data relating to the pre-exilic period in the lists and descriptive parts of the book, 1 5 each case should be evaluated very carefully on its own merit and context, based on the best knowledge and deep analyses of the related biblical and extra-biblical materials. However, while other definitions of Chronicles negate automatically any historical reliability of it, m y definition, though not classifying the book automatically as a reliable historical composition, leaves ample space for case-by-case examination in order t o conclude whether or not any reliable information can be found there. 16 2.3

EVALUATION

OF SOURCES

As a historian, the Chronicler evaluates his sources. The following examples clarify this feature: (1) As the Chronicler read his source in 1 Sam 31, he probably asked himself w h y was Saul removed f r o m the Israelite kingship after a short term, and he (and his sons) killed on the battlefield? Thus, he evaluated the acts of Saul on the one hand and his removal and tragic death on the other. Based on his understanding of the previous texts in Samuel and according to his world-view prism (or, if you wish, 'philosophy of history,' which was surely theological in nature—reward and punishment criteria), he added a short conclusion to his source: "So Saul died for his betrayal; he betrayed the Lord by not carrying out His word and also by inquiring of a ghost and seeking its guidance. While not seeking guidance f r o m the Lord; therefore he slew him, and

Israelites and their "real/true" continuation, that is, Christianity and Christians. Regarding Wellhausen's following Ranke's historicist methodology, readers may find that the matter is stressed on page 22, note 17 of the volume. Leopold Ranke with his 54 volumes on a variety of histories (world history, German history, etc.), was considered, already in his lifetime, the greatest historian in Europe. His influence was profound as compared to that of other historians. To cite the British historian, G. P. Gooch, he was "the Goethe of historians and we all are his students." 15 Thus, for example, in 2 Chr 32,30 which is testimony from Siloam's tunnel and inscription as well; large parts of 1 Chr 12,1-41 most likely based on existing list[s]. 16 See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 32-33.

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turned the kingdom over to David the son of Jesse" (1 Chr 10,13-14).17 Regardless of the statement "Saul inquired of the Lord, but the Lord did not reply to him..." (1 Sam 28,6; see also verse 15), the Chronicler writes that Saul did not seek "guidance from the Lord." For him, if the Lord did not answer Saul, it means, in fact, that Saul did not in truth inquire of the Lord, since "the Lord is near to all who call on Him / to all who call on him in truth" (Ps 145,18).18

(2) The Chronicler read his source, "and they (= the Philistines) left their images there, and David and his men bore them away" (2 Sam 5,21). For him, it is impossible (or, if you want, historically incorrect) that David, God's chosen king (2 Sam 5,2 / / 1 Chr 11,2; 1 Chr 28,4— an "addition") and the father and founder of the Israelite's kingdom, did not know the Torah's law: "Burn the graven images of their gods with fire; do not covet the silver and gold that is on them or take it for yourself" (Deut 7,5; 12,3). For the Chronicler, it is also impossible that David knew the law and preferred to ignore it because of his greed for booty. Thus, the Chronicler altered his source and wrote how David acted according to his historical assessment of the great Israelite personality: "and they left their gods there; and David commanded: let them be burned with fire" (1 Chr 14,12). In other words, David knew the law and acted accordingly. 19 (3) The Chronicler read his source concerning the towns that Solomon gave to Hiram in exchange for the goods that the latter supplied him, for the building of the Temple and the palace (1 Kgs 9,1013). He asked himself whether it was probable that Solomon, the richest Israelite king ever,20 the one who was promised by the Lord "I have also given you that which you have not asked, both riches, and honor; so that there shall not be any among the kings like you all your days" (1 Kgs

3,13), was indeed unable to pay for goods that he purchased from

17

On these verses in Chronicles, see Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles, 139-40, 209-210, 339. 18 For this concept of the Chronicler, see 1 Chr 28,9; 2 Chr 15,2; and the detailed discussion by Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles, 327-29. 19 See in detail, Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles, 154-56. 20 See 2 Chr 8,17-18 / / 1 Kgs 9,26-28; 2 Chr 9,9-11.17-21 / / 1 Kgs 10,1012.18-22.

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Huram? Is it possible that the Lord's chosen king, Solomon, 21 transferred part of the Lord's Promised Land to a foreign ruler for goods and woods? F o r the Chronicler the answer to these questions was definitely negative. F o r him, the possibility that the Lord did not fulfill his promise to Solomon, or at least not fully, was unlikely. Thus, he questioned the likelihood of such information in Kings and rejected it absolutely. Accordingly, the Chronicler turned the whole story upside down, and wrote: "And it came to pass at the end of twenty years, during which Solomon had built the house of the Lord, and his own house that the towns which Huram had gave to Solomon, Solomon built them, and made the people of Israel live there" (2 Chr 8,1-2). 2 2 The approach exemplified here presents the Chronicler in a very different and much more positive light: he did not falsify events. Rather, he evaluated them from a different perspective, a perspective with its own self-logic and set of justifications. Again, it does not mean that we, the modern historians, must accept the ways of the Chronicler and credit them with any reliability. 2.4

COMPOSING A HISTORY: THE DIALECTIC BETWEEN THE PRESENT AND THE PAST

Writing a history—any history—does not just mean a description of past events, institutions, personalities, etc. Rather, it means also reviewing the past within the specific context of the author's time, place, social, religious, cultural, and political circumstances. Thus, the 'past' never comes to be just a 'past,' and in fact it is never dead; rather, it continues to be shaped and reshaped depending on a historian's place, time, and conditions. Several chapters of the volume under review strive to demonstrate that the Chronicler was conditioned by his time, place, and historical See 1 Chr 28,5-6 (verse 6 alludes to Nathan Prophecy in 1 Chr 17,11-13 // 2 Sam 7,12-14); 29,1—"additions." Here the Chronicler probably based his statement on 1 Kgs 2,15b: "I (= Adonijah) should reign; but the kingdom is turned about, and has become my brother's (= Solomon's); for it was his from the Lord." Since King Solomon was chosen by the Lord to succeed his father and to build the Temple, it excludes the probability of the opposing story in 1 Kgs 1-2. Who would oppose someone chosen by the Lord himself? Thus, the Chronicler omits that story altogether. 22 See on this issue see in detail, Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 40-42. 21

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contexts. As such—and no one can ignore these—the Chronicler selects from the earlier sources texts, and topics about Israel's past that are related to his own agenda and audience. He evaluates those texts and topics, telling the past from his own socio-historical context and norms, literary and religious standards and concerns. In other words, Chronicles primarily represents the views of its author about the past in such a manner as to make it applicable to his time and generation, rather than accurately representing the times and generations spoken about, that is, the monarchic period. Indeed, the message of the Chronicler was definitely different from that of the earlier biblical-historical works and was directed to a different time, place, and audience. It was attuned to contemporary, local, and new historical circumstances. Therefore, the Chronicler's work should be valued as a significant contribution to the dialectic between the historian of the Second Temple era and the pre-exilic period, via telling the history of Israel, especially the time of kings. Such a dialectic brings with it an evaluation of Israelite history from the perspective of a historian working in the Second Commonwealth era. The following examples illustrate my point (1) The Chronicler centers his writing on the tribe of Judah and the history of the Davidic dynasty, paying particular attention to Jerusalem, the Jerusalem Temple, and its services and service-givers. Presumably, the Chronicler's focus on these issues stems from the actual functions that these served in his own time. In other words, he attempts to enhance the holiness and superiority of his own contemporary Temple (and it is reasonable to assume that he was one of the Temple staff), and his own place—Jerusalem, and his own Judahite community in Yehud Medinta and its leaders—the High Priest and the Davidic descendant—Anani. The Chronicler describes the high priesthood in the Kingdom of Judah, as the institution was reflected in his own time in Yehud Medinta.23 (2) The Chronicler describes Jerusalem as the place where David and his sons lived, almost uninterruptedly, since the capture of the city by David until, presumably, the Chronicler's own time in the Persian period (1 Chr 3,24). It seems that the Chronicler's main purpose was to depict Jerusalem as the ultimate and almost continual residential city of David's descendants. Furthermore, he uses the post-exilic list of Jerusa23

See Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 140-42,182-85.

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lem's inhabitants in Nehemiah 11 as the "climax" of his work's genealogical and ethnographical introduction (1 Chr 1-9), even though the list breaks off at the genealogy of Saul's house (1 Chr 8,29-38) and the tragic death of Saul and his sons (1 Chr 10 / / 1 Sam 31). The picture that emerges from 1 Chronicles 9 is that Jerusalem was inhabited willingly by all Israel. The city was the center of the whole nation, of the northern as well as of the southern tribes. Moreover, through many changes in the text of Samuel and a unique description of the capture of the city, the Chronicler attempts, most probably, to enhance the reputation of his contemporary unpopulated provincial town of Jerusalem (Neh 11,3-19 / / I Chr 9,2-17) and make it appealing as a desirable national center for potential inhabitants. In other words, the Chronicler probably attempts to encourage contemporary inhabitants of Yehud Medinta as well as Jews from the Diaspora (especially the Egyptian and Babylonian gold) to move to Jerusalem and live in the city continually, while showing how important the city is and that the descendants of the only lawful chosen dynasty were and actually are (Anani who was mentioned at the seventh place in 1 Chr 3,24 and in the Elephantine papyri) almost always as its constant residents. Let us not forget that just several years earlier Nehemiah forced some provincial Jews to reside in the depopulated city of Jerusalem.24 (3) The Chronicler attempts through various literary efforts to enhance the great sanctity of the Temple, its site, vessels, and servants presumably in order to highlight the holiness as well as the significance of his own contemporary small, poorly built and furnished Temple. He relates the Temple site to the binding of Isaac (.Aqedah, Gen 22), which is not mentioned in the parallel text in the book of Kings. The clear references to the stories of the Aqedah, the census, and Araunah's threshing floor (2 Sam 24) were, probably, intended to endow Zerubbabel's Temple with a special degree of sanctity as it fell short of Solomon's Temple in size, wealth, and ritual accessories. Moreover, in all probability it also contains a hidden polemic against the Samaritan sacred place on Mount Gerizim concerning the chosen and most holy ritual place. (4) In contrast to his Vorlage, the Deuteronomistic history (2 Kgs 24,8-17), the Chronicler stresses that Nebuchadnezzar had removed the vessels in the time of Jehoiachin and that they had not been physi24

See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 85-108, 125-41.

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cally violated. He also highlights that the sacred vessels were in Babylon awaiting the time when God would give attention to them and bring them back. These things happened, indeed, when Sheshbazzar led the returning exiles to Zion and brought with him "the vessels of the house of the Lord which Nebuchadnezzar had carried away from Jerusalem" (Ezra 1,7; see also 5,13-15; 6,5). In other words, the Chronicler would like to express that the vessels of Zerubbabel's Temple, that is, the Chronicler's own contemporary Temple, are the same as that of Solomon's Temple. This is a clear dispute with those that negate and disrespect the Zerubbabel's poor Temple as expressed in the book of Haggai and in other Second Temple writings. 25 (5) The Chronicler judges the historical personalities of the monarchic era, such as David and Solomon, and their acts as though the Deuteronomistic and the Priestly Codices existed in those past times as they existed in his own time, that is, in the Persian age (end of the 5 t h the first quarter of the 4th century B.C.E.). 2 6 (6) The Chronicler omits the last part of Cyrus' edict. He chooses to close his composition with a call for immigration to the Land of Israel, b y 1 "so let him go up." This closing seems to be a practical 'Zionistic' encouragement of immigration from the existing Jewish communities of the go la to Yehud Medinta.27

25 The preservation of the vessels in Babylon, stressed by the Chronicler and Ezra (1-6), may be contrasted with traditions in Jewish and in Samaritan literature, which claim that some of the furnishings of the sanctuary, including the vessels, had been hidden in the earth until the eschatological time when the cultic service would be re-performed. See Kalimi, Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy, 9-32 esp. 25-31; idem, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 122. 26 See the examples detailed by Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 142-147, 149-156. See also example 2 in the following section here. 27 See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 152-155. There are several other examples that support my perspective, see Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 140-158, 182-185, 279-280, 289-290, 312 note 38, 314 note 44; idem, "The Land / Mount Moriah, and the Site of the Jerusalem Temple in Biblical Historical Writing," Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy: Studies in Scriptures in the Shadow of Internal and External Controversies (JCH, 2; Assen, Royal Van Gorcum, 2002), 9-32 esp. 25-31. See also idem, An Ancient Israelite Historian, especially chapters 4-9 (85-157).

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All in all, according to our knowledge of the sources, Chronicles is the first work of its kind in the mid-Second Temple period. 28 This work seems to have been greatly needed by its generation, considering the social, religious, linguistic, and literary norms that had developed especially since the composition of Samuel and Kings many generations previously. Accordingly, Chronicles and the Chronicler represent the principle of 'each generation with its own historiography and historian.' Since Veritas filia temporis,2 Chronicles is the "right" composition, "the true one," for its time, place, and audience. 2.5

Is CHRONICLES INTENDED TO REPLACE THE EARLIER HISTORICAL WRITINGS?

Chronicles is not intended to replace the earlier historical writings, Samuel-Kings, as assumed, for example, by Carl Steuernagel (18691958). Probably, it was intended to be read alongside them. In fact, one cannot understand Chronicles without at least some familiarity with Samuel-Kings. The Chronicler assumed that his audience knew all these books. Therefore, in many cases he just alludes to them (i.e., 1 Chr 10,13-14 alludes to 1 Sam 13-15; 28; 2 Chr 3,1 alludes to Gen 22 and 2 Sam 24). 30 Just as the Chronicler read Samuel-Kings against the background of the entire Torah, and his starting point was that all the great figures of the Israelite nation knew all the Torah and kept its commandments, 31 so he wrote his book against the background of Samuel-Kings, while considering that his work should be read alongside them for a "right" and "appropriate" understanding of them! Furthermore, the Chronicler rewrote some texts in chiastic order in relationship to their original appearance in earlier writings (mostly 28 I hold to the opinion of the double redaction of the Deuteronomistic History. This work has been mostly written during the monarchic period (probably, in Josianic times) and was completed in the exilic era, ca. 550 B.C.E. For detailed references, see Kalimi, "The Land / Mount Moriah," Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy, 23-24, note 40. 29 On this dictum see recently the stimulating article of B. Dooley, "Veritas filia Temporis: Experience and Belief in Early Modern Culture," Journal of the History of Ideas 60 (1999), 487-504. 30 On this issue, see in detail, Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 194-214 esp. 194-95. 31 Thus, for instance, he harmonizes 2 Samuel 5 with Deuteronomy 7 concerning idol burning (see below).

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Samuel-Kings).32 Concerning some simple cases, for example, twomember structures,33 one can claim that maybe it is natural for a writer who is rewriting a text and, unintentionally, would produce chiasm in some percentage of the cases.34 However, there are many multi-parted, sophisticated structures of chiasmus between the parallel texts that must be considered as intentional on the Chronicler's part. 35 Thus, one can reasonably suppose that the Chronicler would have to presume that at least a certain portion of his intellectual audience would be reading his book in comparison to Samuel and Kings! The presence of two various histories within a community, even if they occasionally contradict each other, presumably was not a real issue for that society. Indeed, this phenomenon is not unique to Chronicles and Samuel-Kings. It is known also from the books of the Torah; for example, the two different stories of creation, in the same book, side by side (Genesis 1-2); the contradictory stories about wandering in the wilderness, which are related in Exodus and Numbers, on the one hand, and in Deuteronomy, on the other hand.36 2.6

CHRONICLES

AND

EZRA-NEHEMIAH

Indeed, the Chronicler lived some time after Ezra and Nehemiah, and his book is a distinct composition, separate from Ezra-Nehemiah. 37 There are several essential differences between these writings, as I detailed in the volume.38 Nevertheless, at the same time the Chronicler uses Ezra-Nehemiah as a source (i.e., 1 Chr 9,2-17 / / Neh 11,3-19; 2 Chr 6,40 and Neh 1,6; 2 Chr 2,9 and Ezra 3,7; 2 Chr 36,22-23 / / Ezra 32

See Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 232-74. Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 234-46. 34 There are many examples of this feature in the Hebrew Bible; see Kalimi, Reshaping ofAncient Israelite History, 232-34. 35 Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 246-68, examples nos. 12.38-12.92. 36 Compare, for instance, Numbers 13-14 and Deut 1,22-25. There are also a number of contradictory theological motifs that exist side-by-side in the same corpus, in the same book, and even in the same chapter. See Kalimi, Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy, 141 and the examples in note 17. 37 For this term, see Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 8, note 28. Of course, by this term I am not referring to the final form of this writing. 38 Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 54-56. 33

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l,l-3a). 3 9 Why shouldn't he? In fact, an author can agree with another writer on a number of issues on the one hand, and still keep his distinct opinion, world view, even dispute with him on different issues, on the other hand. 2.7

THE

CHRONICLER'S

AGE AND

CONTEXT

The Chronicles represents the principle of 'each generation with its own historiography' and its own historian. But what is the generation of the Chronicler? In which period and on which exact days of that period did he compose? Once again, clear evidence concerning the date of composition and authorship is lacking in Chronicles itself or in other biblical or non-biblical sources. Indeed, though the book of Chronicles mainly deals with the history of the Davidic dynasty and the First Temple, there is no doubt that it was composed in the Second Temple period. There is, however, enormous diversity concerning the question: when exactly Chronicles' composition should be situated. O n this point, one admits that the number of proposals for the dating of Chronicles is almost as large as the number of scholars themselves. There are several hundreds of years of difference between some proposals. Admitting this complicated situation, which almost makes it impossible to do any serious historical research on the book that will be acceptable at least to a vast number of scholars, the volume reviewed here strives to find a reasonable resolution to the problematic dating of Chronicles. O n the one hand, it claims that the book of Chronicles neither contains Greek words, nor does it reflect any feature of Classical or Hellenistic thought or a specific influence of literary, cultural, or historical events. There is also no indication of anachronisms from the Hellenistic period in Chronicles. O n the other hand, Chronicles does have some Persian words and names; it mentions events from the Persian period (i.e., 2 Chr 36,2223); some genealogical lists extend into the Persian era (such as, 1 Chr 3,1-24); and it has also some anachronisms from the Persian time (for instance, in 1 Chr 29,7). Accordingly, it is reasonable to presume that the book was composed sometime in the Persian epoch (539-332 B.C.E.).

See Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 62-63, 129-130; idem, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 90-92, 143-144. 39

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The dating of Chronicles depends to a high degree on a scholar's approach to other basic problems of the book, that is, the question concerning the presumed common authorship of Chronicles and EzraNehemiah and the extent of the original text of Chronicles itself. This study argues that in all appearances 1 Chr 1,1-2 Chr 36,23 represents a more or less coherent literary-historiographic unit that is so distinct from Ezra-Nehemiah that a common authorship seems implausible. Now, the only indication for a terminus a quo is to be found in the Masoretic Text of 1 Chr 3,19-24. 4 0 The six generations after Zerubbabel, which are listed there, lead to the year 400 B.C.E., if 20 years per generation are assumed or to the years 382-376 with one generation lasting for 23-24 years, that is, about the first quarter of the fourth century B.C.E. If the Anani mentioned in the Elephantine papyri (407 B.C.E.) is identical to the one in 1 Chr 3,24, this also results in a terminus a quo very close to that time. Since 1 Chr 3,19-24 represents later data than the Chronicler's citation of Ezra 1 in 2 Chr 36,22-23 and his usage of the verses from Nehemiah 11 in 1 Chr 9, it is needless to refer to these texts as a terminus a quo. At the present time, considering lack of knowledge and in view of the scarcity of external evidence, it seems improbable to reach a more precise and reasonable resolution to the dating of the book of Chronicles. Now, Gary N . Knoppers asserts that the Chronicler's work "does manifest some signs of contacts (direct or indirect) with histo-

My preference of MT 1 Chr 3 (i.e., six generations) over the number given in the L X X (i.e., eleven generations) is, indeed, explicated: "Apparently, the translator^) of the ancient Greek (as well as of the Syrian and Latin) version tried to clarify their difficult Hebrew Vorlage of the list, and to apply it to their own time as close as possible.40 The corruptness of the Masoretic Text has not been proven, though; rather, it seems to be the case that the original version in fact encompassed six generations after Zerubbabel;" see Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 57. Nevertheless, it is difficult to relate the L X X version of the genealogy of the house of David in 1 Chr 3,24, which mentions Akkub, one of the seven sons of Eljoenai, with the Aramaic grave-inscription of "Akabia son of Eljoenai" from the ancient cemetery of El Ibrahimia (Alexandria, beginning of the third century B.C.E.), since too many "ifs" are involved, and any conclusion would be very speculative (see An Ancient Israelite Historian, 57, note 93). 40

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87

riographic traditions attested to in the ancient Aegean world...." 4 1 H e argues that "some extra-biblical analogies t o the Chronicler's use of segmented genealogies are found... in the west." Knoppers dates the book, like some other scholars in the past and present, "near the end of the Persian period or the beginning of the Hellenistic period." 42 Without criticizing the meaning of "some signs" and "some... analogies" (what do these mean? Is it enough to date a book such as Chronicles on the basis of "some signs" and "some... analogies"?), one should not explain them, necessarily, as a result of a genetic relationship (this is revealed f r o m his w o r k and arguments, rather than being mistaken by me) between Chronicles and the Hellenic writings. T h o u g h I am not of the opinion that in the late Persian and early Hellenistic times the southern Levant was "a period of great cultural isolation," 4 3 as Knoppers ascribes to me, these kinds of literary features could easily be developed independently within various cultural regions with no direct or indirect influence u p o n each other. Unfortunately, Knoppers neglects t o refer to this essential part of m y argumentation. H e writes: "I view late Persian and early Hellenistic times as a period of great flux, an era of significant trade, and the occasion of interaction among a variety of cultures." However, still it is very hard, if not impossible, to see h o w the Chronicler, whose w o r k does not reflect any sign of the Greek language n o r any anachronism f r o m Greek a n d / o r Hellenistic culture, could have read any Greek writings or to have met with any Greek scholars (with w h o m and where exactly?) w h o k n e w H e b r e w a n d / o r Aramaic and thus h o w he could have been influenced by them. After all, this sort of intellectual and academic influence is far beyond the western material influence (such as numismatics, pottery, weights, etc. which could be moved easily by any trader, visitor and so forth) even before Alexander's conquest of the Land of Israel. Indeed, the segmented and linear genealogies are found in 41

See Knoppers, "Greek Historiography and the Chronicler's History,"

647.

42

See G. N. Knoppers, "Greek Historiography and the Chronicler's History: A Reexamination," JBL 122 (2003), 627-50 esp. 650 and note 103. In an earlier essay, he notes that the time in which the Chronicler composed his book was "in the late Persian and early Hellenistic periods" (italics mine, I. K.). See idem, "Intermarriage, Social Complexity, and Ethnic Diversity in the Genealogy of J u d a h J B L 120 (2001), 15-30 esp. 27, note 61. 43 See especially Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 50.

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Chronicles as well as in other biblical writings (especially in the Pentateuch, in the J and P codices) 44 which were available to the Chronicler. Knoppers adduces an instance f r o m Greek writings for the form: genealogical lists (1 C h r 1-9) which serve as a prelude t o the narrative (1 C h r 10-2 C h r 36).45 This f o r m appears, however, already in the Torah, which the Chronicler knew perfectly. For example, the flood story (Gen 6-8) has a prelude with a long list of genealogies f r o m Adam to N o a h (Gen 5,1-32); stories of the Patriarchs (Gen 12-50) are preceded by genealogies of mankind f r o m N o a h t o Abraham (Gen 10-11). All in all, it is reasonable to assume that the Chronicler used and sometimes even developed the literary models he found in the well k n o w n earlier H e b r e w writings, rather than to presume that he was influenced by foreign Greek writings. 2.8

THE CHRONICLER'S

2.8.1 GENERAL

VORLAGE(N)

APPROACH

In any comparative study of the parallel texts between the book of Chronicles and the books of Samuel-Kings, the Chronicler's Vorlageia) becomes an essential issue. In fact, this problematic issue is discussed in detail in m y other studies. 46 1 am fully aware of the issue in this volume as well, and refer to it in the context of the various textual witnesses of Chronicles, Samuel, Kings as well as other scriptures whenever there is a real need to do so, case by case.47 Nonetheless, as I state in the Prologue of the volume, it is worthwhile to highlight:

44 See for example, A. Malamat, "King Lists of the Old Babylonian Period and Biblical Genealogies," JAOS 88 (1968), 168-173; idem, Israel in Biblical Times: Historical Essays (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute & Israel Exploration Society, 1983), 24-45 (Hebrew); idem, "Tribal Societies: Biblical Genealogies and African Lineage Systems," History of Biblical Israel: Major Problems and Minor Issues (CHANE, 7; Leiden / Boston / Köln: E. J. Brill, 2001), 41-53. For more bibliography on this issue see I. Kalimi, The Books of Chronicles: A Classified Bibliography (SBB,1; Jerusalem: Simor, 1990), 117-20, items no. 1000-1035. 45 See Knoppers, "Greek Historiography and the Chronicler's History," 643. 46 See for instance, Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 11-16. 47 See for example, Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 13, 16, 75, 90, 91, 100,101, 103,108, 110,112,116, 127.

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

89

once again, that the Qumranic as well as L X X and other ancient text-witnesses could represent sometimes an original version, but also—no less—an interpretation, textual and thematic harmonization, revision, correction, and even corruption of the original text. Thus, one must evaluate the issue very carefully and not give an automatic preference to those witnesses over the Masoretic Text. Furthermore, recently Emanuel Tov emphasized that "since the language and spelling of Torah and the Prophetical books actually did not pass the process of updating, as revealed by comparing the parallel texts between Samuel-Kings and Chronicles, it may show that the exact MT form of these books already existed at the time the book of Chronicles was composed."48 2.8.2 SPECIFIC TEXTUAL ISSUES Concerning the specific textual issues mentioned by Knoppers, I would like to respond: (1) It is hard to admit that the difficult text of 2 Sam 5,6b and 8b, concerning the capture of Jerusalem, is "a later addition." What was the purpose of such late expansions? The texts in Samuel 5 are lectio dificilior, therefore, they are much earlier than the clear text of Chronicles. McCarter's supposition, 49 for example, that the texts in 2 Sam 5,6b and 8b are late expansions is not convincing, since it is based on several unproven hypotheses. Moreover, these "late expansions" cause more problems than they solve. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that this version of 2 Samuel was already available to the Chronicler and that he attempted to make the early difficult texts less complex and more meaningful to his audience. 50

See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 16. P. K. McCarter, Jr., II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary (AB 9; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1984), 137-38. 50 It is worthy to mention that in Lev 21,17-23 the blind and lame were included among those who were not allowed to worship in the House of God. There is nothing, however, concerning their visiting the House of God. Therefore, Targum Jonathan on Samuel wrote "the sinner and the guilty" instead of "the blind and lame" of the Hebrew text. Nevertheless, the Chronicler's omission, as well as the Targumist's changes, represent an effort to improve the image of David. Compare Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 101, note 22. 48

49

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

(2) Concerning some scholars' arguments that "the Chronicler's Vorlage for the final chapters of Kings was shorter than M T Kings and did not contain certain features, such as the names of the Judahite queen mothers," I would like to emphasize, once more, as follows. In the case under discussion, Jehoiachin's story in Chronicles comparable to that in Kings, we are not talking about a word—such as a name of queen mother—or even a phrase that may or may not appear in the Chronicler's Vorlage. Instead, we are talking about 10 verses (i.e., 159 words) in 2 Kgs 24,8-17 comparable to the parallel text in Chronicles that contains only 2 verses (34 words, 2 Chr 36,9-10). Though the Chronicler abridged the accounts of the two previous kings, Jehoahaz and Jehoiakim, and of Jehoiachin's successor, Zedekiah, he shortened the account of Jehoiachin drastically by 79%, which can be compared to reductions of 53% for Jehoahaz, 55% for Jehoiakim and 55% for Zedekiah. The Chronicler omitted what we find in the book of Kings about the siege of Jerusalem and its despoiling and depopulation specifically, about the removal of the treasures of the palace and of the Temple (verse 13) and the surrender of Jehoiachin and his household, his ministers and all of the military elite, ten thousand captives, and all the craftsmen and smiths (verse 14a), 51 of the queen mother (cf. Jer 13,18; 22,24), the king's wives, his officials, and the nobles of the land (verses 14b-16). 5 2

In verse 14, the number of those deported from Jerusalem is ten thousand, although verses 15-16 give eight thousand (seven thousand warriors and one thousand craftsmen and smiths). On this and on the number 3,023 which is preserved in Jer 52,28, see A. Malamat, "The Last Years of the Kingdom of Judah," in L. G. Perdue, L. E. Toombs, and G. L. Johnson (eds.), Archaeology and Biblical Interpretation: Essays in Memory of D. Glenn Rose (Atlanta, GA: John Knox Press, 1987), 287-314 esp. 293. A slightly different version of the paper was published in his collection: History of Biblical Israel: Major Problems and Minor Issues, 299-321 esp. 309-11. Cf. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 312. 52 See in detail, Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 115-118 and notes 6 and 12. 51

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

3.

C O M M E N T S ON S O M E PARTICULAR ISSUES

3.1

PUNS ON ROOTS AND PLAYS ON SOUNDS IN

91

CHRONICLES

I distinguish between "puns on roots" and "plays on sounds:" sections II and III of chapter three deal with "plays of Hebrew roots," 5 3 while section IV of it deals with sound plays in the explanations of names. 54 This distinction is also expressed verbally at the end of section I: "Some of the puns are based on the plays of Hebrew word's roots, while others—mostly in the midrashic names—are based on sound plays." 5 5 Furthermore, it is clearly stated that the chapter centers mostly on cases of 'paronomasia' / 'pun' in Chronicles, rather than on the related literary devices such as 'alliterations,' 'assonances.' 56 3.2

THE PORTRAIT OFJOAB IN

CHRONICLES

Generally speaking, the portrait of Joab reflected from Chronicles is more positive than the one emerging from Samuel and Kings. It seems that the cause for this reflection mainly stems from the fact that several large texts appearing in the earlier books (that of portraying Joab as vengeful, anxious and ambitious), are altogether omitted in Chronicles. The Chronicler omits the story concerning the kingdom of IshBosheth/Baal, son of Saul (2 Sam 2-4). This story includes the cruel murder of Abner, the commander of the army of Ish-Bosheth, by Joab and Abishai as revenge for the death of their brother, Asahel, in the course of the war between the houses of Saul and David (2 Sam 3,2230). H e omits the entire story of David and Bath-sheba (2 Sam 11-12), which includes sending Bathsheba's husband, Uriah the Hittite, to his death by Joab (though per David's request; 2 Sam 11,15-24). The Chronicler omits the story of Absalom's rebellion that includes the killing of Absalom by Joab, despite David's clear request: "Deal gently for my sake with the young man, with Absalom" (2 Sam 18,5.10-15). Joab killed his rival, Amasa, the Israelite commander (2 Sam 19,14; 20,9-10b). The Chronicler excludes the story of the opposition of Adonijah (and Joab who supported him) to Solomon, as well as the description of the wicked Joab in David's will (1 Kgs 1-2). These omis53 54 55 56

See in detail, Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 69-77. See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 77-81. See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 69. Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 68.

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

sions have not been done purposely in order to portray Joab positively, rather for some other reasons that lie beyond the scope of this paper. Moreover, along with the omissions of Joab's negative points, the Chronicler failed to include some of his glorious military actions that protected and fortified the Davidic kingdom (this including the putting down of Sheba ben Bichri's rebellion; 2 Sam 20,1-22). In fact, what we do find in Chronicles are the following: (1) Joab was one of the three sons of Zeruiah, David's sister, that is, he was a part of the royal family (1 Chr 2,16; compare 2 Sam 3,39; 17,25). (2) He was commander-in-chief of David (1 Chr 18,15; 27,34 / / 2 Sam 8,16; 20,23), and as such contributed booty to the building of the Temple, as did Samuel, Saul, and Abner who fought against Israel's enemies (1 Chr 26,28). (3) Joab acted heroically in the course of the capture of Jerusalem (1 Chr 11,6), a description that does not appear in the parallel text of 2 Sam 5,7-8. Probably, the Chronicler intends here to fill in the incomplete sentence in Samuel and to explain how Joab became the commander-in-chief of David's army, an explanation that does not appear in any other source. 57 (4) Joab restores / rebuilds "the rest of the city" (= Jerusalem; 1 Chr 11,8b—an "addition"). Since there is nothing "chronistic" here, it may be that it reflects a different Vorlage. (5) 1 Chr 18,12 ascribes the defeat of the Edomites to Abishai, Joab's brother, while Ps 60,1 credits it to Joab. 5 8 (6) Joab's decisive war against the Ammonites (1 Chr 19,8-20,1), which the Chronicler copied almost verbatim from 2 Sam 10,7-11,1. (7) Joab carried out David's illfated census of the people, though it was disputed with the king (1 Chr 21,18 / / 2 Sam 24,19), and according to the Chronicler at some point Joab decided not to count Levi and Benjamin (1 Chr 21,6—an "addition"). Yet, if all these in Chronicles—particularly 1 Chr 11,6. 8b; 21,6; 26,28—have something to do with Joab's descendants mentioned in Ezra 2,6 / / Neh 7,11 and Ezra 8,9; 1 Esdr 8 , 3 5 - t o cite R . W. Klein: "the Chronicler may have equated them and therefore felt he needed to enhance the status of Joab"—it is hard to say with certainty, however, it is possible. Nevertheless, if one accepts this assumption, then he Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 95-108 esp. 100-7. 2 Sam 8,13-14 credit it to David (read: "Edom" with the L X X and the Peshitta). See also 1 Kgs 11,15-16—a text that the Chronicler omits together with the entire chapter. 57

58

CHRONICLES AND THE CHRONICLER

93

must explain 1 Chr 18,12, which mentions "Abishai son of Zeruiah," as opposed to Ps 60,1 which mentions "Joab."59 3.3

THE CHRONICLER'S

TREATMENT

OF JERUSALEM

(1) A careful reading of my discussion of the Chronicler's treatment of Jerusalem does not leave any space for G. N. Knoppers' inquiry. Again, I wrote as follows:60 Contrary to all the exilic and post-exilic prophetic and post-biblical literature mentioned above, Jerusalem [and not: "Jerusalem and its temple" as Knoppers mistakenly ascribes to me (italics mine; I. K.)] is represented in Chronicles essentially in realistic terms.... Indeed, the Chronicler represents Jerusalem as the chosen city of God and the capital of the "kingdom of the Lord," the site of His throne and sanctuary. However, his pragmatic treatment of the city follows the practice as in most of the rest of the Hebrew Bible. The Chronicler describes the city basically as a monarchic capital. The post-exilic temple-city of his days (ca. 400-375 B.C.E.),the poor and provincial Jerusalem of the Persian province, YehudMedinta (Neh 11,1; 1 Chr 9,2-18 / / Neh 11,3-19), and the poorly built Temple of Zerubbabel 61 did not motivate him to illustrate Jerusalem and its Temple in eschatological terms or allude to the Utopian visions of the exilic and postexilic prophets. Moreover, by way of contrast to Ezekiel, who described the heavenly plans of the future Temple and Jerusalem (Ezek 40-42; 43,10-27), the Chronicler spoke in detail about the heavenly planned structure of the Solomonic Temple only (1 Chr 28,11-19, no parallel).

59

Does the change in Chronicles reflect another tradition? Or, does it reflect a different Vorlage? The Sages in Genesis Rabbah 74,13 solved the problem in a harmonistic way, by ascribing the texts to two different wars against Edom; see also Rabbi David Altschuler commentary on 1 Chr 18,12 who followed them, and compare Rabbi David Kimchi, who takes a different approach. 60 See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 133-135. In order to shorten, I omitted some of the footnotes that accompany the original text in the volume. 61 O n this issue, see in detail Kalimi, "The land / Mount Moriah," Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy, 27-29.

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Such a paragraph is not found in Chronicles regarding Jerusalem itself. Moreover, no visionary description of Jerusalem as can be found later in the apocalyptic writings occur here. The huge gap between the city of his own period and that of the monarchic period did not cause him to idealize and glorify Jerusalem (of the First Temple period), nor to refer to it in a symbolic-mystic fashion. The Chronicler might have glorified some kings such as David, Solomon, Abiam / Abijah, Hezekiah, and Josiah (1 Chr 11-29; 2 Chr 1-9; 13; 29-32; 34-35), but never their royal city. Throughout his work the Chronicler treats Jerusalem in realistic, earthly, geographic terms, rather than as some heavenly ideal.62 The geographical reality of Jerusalem in the Chronicler's time could be depicted, more or less, from the description of Nehemiah 2,11-18; 3; 4,1 and from some archaeological excavations.63 Usually, the Chronicler does not describe the pre-exilic city and Temple in terms of the city and Temple of his own day. In other words, when giving a 'physical' description of Jerusalem or the Temple (as it was), the Chronicler essentially follows the biblical sources that were available to him without making anachronistic emendations.64 In my view, one definitely could not say that Jerusalem as portrayed by the Chronicler "projects into the past what other writers project into the future." One could not say so even about the essential description of the Temple—that is only a part of the city—in Chronicles. Thus, for example, what is unrealistic in the description of 2 Chr 3,1— 5,1 ( / / 1 Kgs 6,1-7,51), or of 2 Chr 24,1-14 ( / / 2 Kgs 12,1-17)? Concerning the preparation of David for the building of the Temple and its heavenly plan (1 Chr 22,2-5.14-16; 28,11-19; 29,1-9), I Occasionally the Chronicler omitted from his source some harsh words regarding Jerusalem, since he considered them, apparently, as a curse against the city. Thus, for instance, compare 2 Chr 34,27 with 2 Kgs 22,19; and see Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 284, note 27. 63 See for example, B. Mazar, "Jerusalem in the Biblical Period," in Y. Yadin (ed.), Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeology in the Holy City 1968-1974 (New Haven & London: Yale University Press and Israel Exploration Society, 1976), 1-8. 64 That is, excluding the preparation to the Temple's building as in 1 Chr 28,11-19 (see the citation in my book at the top of p. 134, and note 33 there), and of course in the parallels in 1 Chr 22,2-5.14-16; 29,19 (all additions). 62

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already noted the purpose of the Chronicler to pattern the First Temple after that of the Tabernacle of Moses, 65 in order to show the continuity of the same sort of holiness in the tabernacle, in the Solomonic Temple and his own time's (Second) Temple. 66 Moreover, in order to show the piety of David, the Chronicler exaggerated his preparations, of course in some way unrealistically, as I noted before. (2) Concerning the notes of R. Hubbard about the text in 1 Chr 11:6, which relates the capture of Jerusalem, 6 7 1 would like to stress: (a) For the Chronicler, David reigns over 'all Israel' from the first moment of his coronation, which follows Saul's death on the mountains of Gilboa! 68 (b) Even in the book of Samuel, the capture of Jerusalem happened after the reunification with the northern Israelite tribes! It is hard to imagine that in between there were separate armies: one the Judahite—under control of Joab, and the other—the Israelite—under control of someone else (since Abner son of Ner was killed already). Thus, it is indeed impossible to suppose that there were two armies under two commanders-in-chief in the same kingdom! 3.4

"JERUSALEM" VERSUS "CITY OF DAVID"

The reviewer of this issue unfortunately, represents my arguments fragmentarily and inaccurately. Thus, I present here, once again, my complete claims exactly as they were detailed in chapter six of the volume, and leave the final conclusion to the readers. I wrote: In spite of the admiration and great sympathy for King David, as is revealed in his writing, the Chronicler does not make systematic usage of the new name, 'City of David.' He does not change the texts of the Former Prophets and write 'City of David' instead of 'Jerusalem.' He does not even write something similar to "at Jerusalem, in the city of David" as appears in later historiography, for instance, in 1 Macc 2,31. Though the Chronicler actually follows in Exod 25,9.40; 26,30; 27,8; and see also Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 134, note 36. 66 See in detail, Kalimi, "The land / Mount Moriah," Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy, 25-31. 67 See Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 98-107. 68 See in detail, Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 18-22. 65

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this case what he finds in the books of Samuel and Kings, the evidence is quite surprising since occasionally he writes equivalent or synonymous names in place of some geographical sites which appear in those books.69 Moreover, contrarily, he alters the text of Kings twice and writes other names instead of the name 'City of David."70 In what follows, I will give two examples: (1) Second Kings 14,20 "City of David" is changed by the Chronicler to "the City of Judah" (2 Chr 25,28). There is no evidence whatsoever for a scribal error in Chronicles, as R. W . Klein in his review and some other scholars assert.71 Indeed, the name appears in the Chaldean Chronicles, which tell about Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon that "in the seventh year ... the king of Akkad collected up his armies and advanced into the land of Hatti and encamped at the al Ia-a-hu-du (that is, City of Judah = Jerusalem)." 72 (2) In 2 Kgs 16,20 we read that Ahaz king of Judah was buried in the "City of David." The Chronicler, however, changes the text and writes the ancient and common name "Jerusalem" instead of the name "City of David" (2 Chr 28,27). 73 Furthermore, at least twice the Chronicler preferred to omit the name "City of David" that appeared in his Vorlage: 2 Sam 6,12b // 1 Chr 15,25; 1 Kgs 2, 10-12 // 1 Chr 29,26-28. Concerning the first example, Klein suggests a different explanation for the omission of "City of David" in 1 Chr 15,25. Without evaluating the quality of his suggestion, it still does not erase the validity of my explanation. Concerning the last example, Klein claims, "but he incorporates nothing at all from the verse in question (1 Kgs 2:10)." However, the Chronicler uses the paragraph concerning David, verse 10, which includes the words "City of David," as an integral part of it. Though he definitely could use 1

69 For this feature in the Chronicler's writing, see Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 99-107. 70 Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 109. 71 See the scholars listed in Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 110, note 3. 72 On this issue, see in detail Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 100-101. 73 See Kalimi, Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History, 101. For the full discussion, see idem, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 110.

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Kgs 2,10 as he uses the rest of the paragraph (verses 11-12), in fact he chose to omit it. W h y did he choose to omit that verse? Indeed, the name 'City of David' occurs in Chronicles altogether 19 times. However, almost all of them are transferred mechanically from the earlier biblical sources. The 19 times "City of David" is mentioned in Chronicles is, nevertheless, incomparable to the number of times "Jerusalem" is used in the book, 151 times (that is, almost a ratio of 1:8,4). 74 3.5

JEHOIACHIN'S RELEASE FROM PRISON

Unlike the Deuteronomistic historian, the Chronicler states that the destruction and exile are not the end of history, but rather are necessary steps to achieve purification of the land in order to create a new and hopeful beginning. It seems that 2 Kgs 25,27-30 has been appended later on to the book of Kings, most probably according to Jer 52,3134. However, even if one considers 2 Kgs 25,27-30 as a part of the original Deteronomistic composition, it still does not hint at the Israelites' future, as already stated by Martin Noth: "Under these circumstances the Deuteronomist cannot mean the improvement in the deported Jehoiachin's personal fortunes (2 Kgs 25.27-30) to herald a new age." 75 The improved conditions of prisoner Jehoiachin is not compatible with Cyrus' decree concerning the restoration, the rebuilding of Jerusalem and its Temple. 76 CYRUS'DECREE

3.6

At the time of the Chronicler, Yehud and Jerusalem probably needed immediate (rather than far into the future) immigrants (however, much more than pilgrims / visitors / tourists) in order to be repopulated and empowered. Calling for immigration is an attempt to awake the patriotic and religious feelings of the Jewish people in the gola for the real needs of Yehud and encourage them to act accordingly, 77 though their

See in detail, Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 111. For the statistical data concerning the name 'Jerusalem' in Chronicles, see 137-39. 75 The Deuteronomistic History (2nd ed.; JSOTSup 15; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 143. 76 See in detail, Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 154, note 42. 77 Compare Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 153, note 40. 74

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ancestors did not act appropriately in Cyrus' time, scores of decades ago. 4.

CONCLUDING WORDS

Following the Temple Torah reading for the Day of Atonement (from Leviticus 16), the high priest stated: ÎND mrD DD^flb Tinpu? naa i n r "There is written here much more than I read for you." T o paraphrase the words of the high priest, there is much to study from this captivating composition named "Chronicles." Ironically, the Chronicler who is much disputed as a historian becomes the leading theme in recent scholarship. Nevertheless, it is my hope that the book of Chronicles will take its appropriate and fully deserved place in modern biblical studies. In other words, it will move more and more from periphery to the center of the 21st century's biblical scholarship, and become a corner stone in the research of ancient Israelite history and historiography. 78 It is hoped, that this volume along with other studies will advance the book to its desired destination.

78

Compare Kalimi, An Ancient Israelite Historian, 159-160, esp. 160.

LEX

TALIONIS

W EXOD 21:22-25:

ITS O R I G I N A N D C O N T E X T 1

YUNG SUK KIM 1.

INTRODUCTION

This essay is concerned with the following questions. Is the biblical lex talionis to be applied by equal retribution or in a figurative sense? What is its origin? H o w or for what purpose was this specific lex talionis practiced in ancient Israelite life? What were some underlying economic or social values behind the actual practice in a village context throughout ancient Israelite history? H o w does the lex talionis function in biblical law? Whose lex talionis is it? H o w much did Southwestern Asian Laws influence the Israelite law? T o answer these questions, I will approach the ancient Israelites life through an anthropological

1

The important task for interpreters is to reconstruct an ancient social context. Otherwise, legal materials do not simply hold true because law needs a specific context or vice versa: a context specifies the law. For example, if there is a sign: "no vehicles in the park," what is this sign to be meant? In the twentieth century context this sign was put up to protect lives, especially children playing there, from possible car accidents in the park. Without knowing that context, for example, ten centuries later, if one historian studying law in America, looking at this sign as law, interprets that all vehicles including handcarts or children's moving bicycles must be prohibited in the park, based on the literal sense of "no vehicles in the park," which comes this person disregards its context and misses some very important questions: why the sign (or law) was built? Who has power to legislate such sign (or law)? See Alvin Esau, "Old Testament Law" available at http://www.umanitoba.ca/ Law/ Courses/esau/lr/lr_oldtestament.html 99

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perspective. 2 In other words, I will focus on their economic and social life to see how a customary law of the lex talionis works in every day lives. O n the other hand, I will examine the biblical lex talionis of Exod 21:22-25 (miscarriage and bodily injury) in the literary context: how the lex talionis functions in biblical law and/or how Southwestern Asia Laws (hereafter referred to as SAL) are related to the biblical lex talionis.3 My thesis is that the lex talionis in biblical law should be interpreted figuratively in view of theological emphasis on the value of life. 4 Actually, this emphasis of life did not come one day suddenly, but the law should be traced back to the ancient villages where a customary law should be present through history even before formal writings of biblical law. An attempt to find the origin of the lex talionis is not an easy task because there are no direct records 5 other than biblical laws though SAL has good parallels. 6 The existence of these parallels does not automatically point to the origin of the lex talionis. My attempt is to find an oral form or a customary law of the lex talionisJ Its origin should be traced back to agricultural village life of ancient Israel, and accordingly, that its development and practice, with much complexity, will be examined from an anthropological perspective. 8 At the same time it should be noted that the development (and application) of the 2 1 use here "anthropological" as an approach to understand human behavior from a basic human point of view in aspects of community living including economic, cultural, and religious life. 3 This lex talionis in relation to the woman/miscarriage issue is well attested in the Hammurabi Code 196-214 and Middle Assyrian Law 50 as well. 4 Douglas A. Knight, "The Ethics of Human Life in the Hebrew Bible" in Douglas A. Knight and Peter J. Paris (eds.), Justice and The Holy: Essays in Honor of Walter Harrelson (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989) 83. 5 Robert R. Wilson, "The Role of Law in Early Israelite Society" in Baruch Halpern and Deborah W. Hobson (eds.), Law, Politics, and Society in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993) 90-99. 6 Some parallels are in Laws of Hammurabi 196-214 and Middle Assyrian Law 50. 7 Alt's study on inscription of North Africa confirms a general practice of compensation in a similar case of the lex talionis. See Joe M. Sprinkle, "The Book of the Covenant: A Literary Approach" (JSOTSup 174; Sheffield: Sheffield Press, 1994) 173. 8 E. Otto, "Town and Rural Countryside in Ancient Israelite Law: Reception and Redaction in Cuneiform and Israelite Law," JSOT 57 (1993) 3-22.

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lex talionis should be understood as a complex process, depending on a period and its social structure/power. Put differently, its origin should not be taken as a one-time and simple phenomenon. Rather, various social contexts (small villages, towns, clans, state, and monarchy) change the focus of the lex talionis.9 2.

THE SEAT OF THE LEX TALIONIS IN ANCIENT ISRAEL

2.1

VILLAGES

My first presupposition is that most of ancient Israelites lived in villages throughout Israelite history. 10 Therefore, their primary life context lies in agricultural, 11 family-oriented (or clan), 12 cultural religious life through which people have strong emotional attachment in villages, though sometimes, their life could go beyond their immediate boundaries of life. All people in villages k n o w each other very well, frequently gathering in important social or religious festivals. They w o r k together in the fields, probably helping each other, for efficiency. Imagine a time without a television set. People gather as often as possible. In other words, the meaning of life lies in the community: they work, eat, drink, sing, and dance in the community. G o o d or bad, if anything happens, it is a community event: birth, marriage, sickness, disputes, and death. The point is that the primary life context lies in the community with an average village population 5 0 - 1 0 0 people. "Actually, most of Israelites ( 7 0 - 9 5 % ) are believed t o live in villages. 14 What does this emphasis on the community suggest in relation to the seat of the lex talionis? Given the small village context, the literal 9 Robert R. Wilson, "Enforcing the Covenant: The Mechanisms of Judicial Authority in Early Israel" in H. B. Huffmon, F. A. Spina, and A. R. W. Green (eds.), The Quest for the Kingdom of God: Studies in Honor of George E. Mendenhall (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983) 59-75. 10 Douglas A. Knight, "Village Law and the Book of Covenant," in Saul M. Olyan and Robert C. Culley (eds.), A Wise and Discerning Mind: Essays in Honor of Burke O. Long (BJS 325; Providence: Brown University, 2000) 163— 179. 11 Frank Crusemann, The Torah: Theology and Social History of Old Testament Law (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996) 110. 12 Douglas A. Knight, "Village Law and the Book of Covenant." 13 Robert R. Wilson, "Role of Law in Early Israelite Society." 14 Douglas A. Knight, "Village Law and the Book of Covenant."

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application of the lex talionis by equal retribution is hardly the case because they know each other very well. The function of the lex talionis would have been initially to avoid an unregulated revenge but its primary role is support the victim's family with a virtual compensation. 15 In other words, legal disputes will be dealt case by case with a consideration of the community welfare and individual costs. How? Village elders, whose primary function is keep, interpret, and deliverer the customary law or tradition, will exercise the administration of justice. 16 This means that elders take a sort of leadership position in community events. Elders do not constitute a legal court in a strict sense; rather, in case of disputes, they would take a third party role as an interpreter of the tradition and as an arbitrator of disputes. Elders do not have a full power or authority over the cases. Rather, in view of community rapport and justice, elders should treat both parties involved in the case equally so that the result of arbitration might be acceptable for the community as a whole. In addition, it would be almost impossible to apply the lex talionis by equal retribution in subsistence economy of agriculture, which depends on human labor and animals. The implication is that human labor must be preserved. Therefore, body parts such as eye, nose, hand, and feet are essential not just for physical and social life but for labor power for survival of family and community. If one eye were lost, it would be a great loss for an individual and a family as well. The loss or decrease of labor power affects the victim's family directly. This reality of life requires some sort of compensation for the victim's family so that they could continue their life. Therefore, an equal retribution through cutting off an offender's hand does not help a victim's family or an offender's. Likewise, the offender's family needs to maintain their social and economic life even with difficult situations like this. The offender's family can wisely approach the issue by agreeing to pay for the loss of time, for medical cost and for the loss of economic pro-

Francesco Parisi, "The Genesis of Liability in Ancient Law" (Final Draft) American Law and Economics Review (2001) available at http://www.gmu.edu/departments /law/faculty/papers/docs/00-27.pdf 16 Robert R. Wilson, "Role of Law in Early Israelite Society," and idem, "Israel's Judicial System in the Pre-exilic Period" JQR 74 (1983) 229-248. See also Alvin Esau, "Old Testament Law" available at http://www.umanitoba.ca/Law/Courses/esau/lr/lr_o ldtestament.html. 15

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duction. Any possible unregulated retaliation against a customary law of compensation could lead to a warlike situation with hatred. H o w can the victim's family see the offender walk by without a hand? In a close community context, that kind of situation is hardly bearable psychologically. The literal application of the lex talionis by equal retribution can be another form of injustice by ruining the other family in the name of equal retribution. If an offender does not have enough means to pay, he/she should sell one's labor to compensate. Furthermore, in villages, people know that equal retribution is not fair. N o t every hand has an equal price. If a physician's hand were cut off by the penalty of the lex talionis, people will know that it is not fair. Then, realistically, people will consider compensation as a possible solution through negotiation. 17 2.2

DEVELOPMENT

Another important question about the lex talionis is this: if social structure changes from a family or clan-based society to a larger social unit like state, how would the lex talionis work? The danger of an unregulated revenge or retaliation will be much higher than in the village context because expectedly such a larger society gets difficulty to reach a consensus between the parties. This difficulty arises from their lack of mutual understanding about the customary law. If disputes happen in villages, the possibility of rampant revenge can be reduced because of a close community context. But if legal disputes occur between clans or tribes or from a state-level, it would be hard to regulate seemingly high hatred-ridden retaliations. It is highly probable that the case like bodily injury could be treated as a criminal case. The implication is that a larger society may be controlled efficiently. 18 From the privileged high-class point of view, society (the status quo) should be maintained. It is also equally highly possible that a compensation sense of the lex talionis could be abused by the wealthy or the powerful in the way

This kind of anthropological reasoning is based on my experience of living in an agricultural village. The same analogy could be applied to different cultures. 18 Martin J. Buss, "The Distinction between Civil and Criminal Law in Ancient Israel" in A. Shinan (ed.) Proceedings of the Sixth World Congress of Jewish Studies, (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1977) vol. 1, 51-62. 17

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that "money" can buy anything. 19 Depending on the power dynamics between local authorities and the central government, legal remedy could take any point of the spectrum, ranging from a proper mix of a criminal case to pecuniary compensation.20 2.3

VALUES AND MORAL PRINCIPLES BEHIND THE LEX TALIONIS

What are some important values and moral principles behind the practice of the lex talionis? In villages, a living spirit in communal life is strong so that people will handle any legal disputes with good rapport. I suppose that the Sinai tradition was already known at this time, and wonder that an impact on community life would be more meaningful with the value of honoring life. This value constitutes a symbolic application of the lex talionis with virtual compensation through the community spirit. Therefore, a derivative moral principle can be something like this: "share life; do not retaliate; help each other; live together in the community." 3.

T H E LEX TALIONIS IN EXODUS 2 1 : 2 2 - 2 5

3.1

THE LEX TALIONIS AND MISCARRIAGE/BODILY

INJURY

Biblical law took a final form during the exile, the fact of which suggests biblical law has a strong literary dependency on the Babylonian Law.21 In particular, the lex talionis of Exod 21:22-25 is similar in terms of structure, mood, and in terms of form (casuistic law). See the following comparison table.22

19 20

Francesco Parisi, "Genesis of Liability in Ancient Law."

David Daube, Studies in Biblical Law. (Cambridge: University Press, 1947), 103. 21 John Van Seters suggests that biblical laws were formed by the influence of the Babylonian Law during the exile. The reason lies in the fact that the lex talionis formula and casuistic laws share similarity between the two. So, the Covenant Code is not the earliest one as opposed to the common understanding. John Van Seters, "Comparison of Babylonian Codes with the Covenant Code and its Implications for the Study of Hebrew Law" available at http://www.law2.byu.edu/ Biblical_Law/papers/vansetterssbl2001.pdf 22 John Van Seters, "Comparison of Babylonian Codes with the Covenant Code and its Implications for the Study of Hebrew Law."

LEX TALIONIS IN EXOD 21:22-25

Exod 21: 18-27 (bodily injury) 18-19: injuries during a fight 22-23: injury to a pregnant woman 24-25: lex talionis series

20-21, 26-27: injuries to slaves

105

Hammurabi Code #196-214 (bodily injury) 206-208: injuries received in a fight 209-212: injuries to a pregnant woman 196-97, 200: injuries to eye, bone and tooth of awilu (lex talionis) 199: injuries to slaves

This literary dependency does not simply point t o the origin of the lex talionis in S A L ; rather, such an origin should be located in the village life. Then h o w can we account for this literary connection between the t w o laws? Certainly, the f o r m of casuistic laws seems borrowed f r o m the cuneiform laws in Babylonia, but the details of the lex talionis (Exod 21:22-25) significantly differ f r o m those of the H a m m u rabi Code. See the following laws.

EXOD

21:22-25

When people who are fighting injure a pregnant woman so that there is a miscarriage, and yet no further harm follows, the one responsible shall be fined what the woman's husband demands, paying as much as the judges determine. 23If any harm follows, then you shall give life for life, 24eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, 25burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe. (NRSV) 22

LA WS OF HAMMURABI

(LH)

209 If an awilu strikes a woman of the awilu-class and thereby causes her to miscarry her fetus, he shall weigh and deliver 10 shekels of silver for her fetus. 210 If that woman should die, they shall kill his daughter. 211 If he should cause a woman of the commoner-class to miscarry her fetus by the beating, he shall weigh and deliver 5 shekels of silver. 212 If that woman should die, he shall Martha T. Roth, Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor. (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997) 123. 23

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weigh and deliver 30 shekels of silver. 213 If he strikes an

awilu's

slave woman and thereby causes her to miscarry her fetus, he shall weigh and deliver 2 shekels of silver. 214 If that slave woman should die, he shall weigh and deliver 20 shekels of silver.

MIDDLE

ASSYRIAN

LAWS

(MAL) 24

50 [if a man] strikes [another man's wife thereby causes her to abort her fetus, ...] a man's wife [...] and they shall treat him as he treated her; he shall make full payment of a life for her fetus. And if that woman dies, they shall kill that man; he shall make full payment of a life for her fetus. And if there is no son of that woman's husband, and his wife whom he struck aborted her fetus, they shall kill the assailant for her fetus. If her fetus was a female, he shall make full payment of a life only. 52 If a man strikes a prostitute causing her to abort her fetus, they shall assess him blow for blow, he shall make full payment of a life.

In a bodily injury and miscarriage case, Laws of Hammurabi (LH) have less respect for life and applies the lex talionis to awilu class only (LH #210: "if that woman (awilu) should die (as a result of miscarriage), they shall kill his daughter"). Clearly, LH 210 specifies death penalty while Exod 21:23-25 does not use the same language as the Laws of Hammurabi. Maybe, the harsh language of literal application of the lex talionis conveys an exaggerating, symbolic sense of "class ideology" that awilu class should be more honorable than the other class such as commoner class or a slave. Life of a commoner-class and a slave woman has a fixed price. A commoner-class will receive 30 shekels of silver while an awilu s slave will receive 20 shekels of silver if they die in case of miscarriage. Accordingly, fetus's value is also subject to mother's class. Similarly, MAL #50 harshly states the bitterness of the lex talionis, which is almost same as LH 210. Surprisingly enough, MAL #50 is very specific about who will be retaliated with death penalty. But there is no mentioning of a prostitute's dying. In contrast, the lex talionis of Exodus and related bodily injury laws have more respect for life than SAL. Before looking at Exod 21:22-25 in detail, we need to see bodily injury case found in Exod 21:18-19 because this bodily injury law does not apply the lex talionis. 24

Ibid., 174.

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IN E X O D

2 1 : 2 2 - 2 5

107

Instead, full payment of the medical cost and the compensation of loss of time are sufficient. See the below text. EXOD

21:18-19 When individuals quarrel and one strikes the other with a stone

or fist so that the injured party, though not dead, is confined to bed,

but recovers and walks around outside with the help of a

staff, then the assailant shall be free of liability, except to pay for the loss of time, and to arrange for full recovery.

From the nature of bodily injury caused by a fighting (probably intentional), the above case falls into a category of bodily injury. But in fact no lex talionis formula is found here. The remedy for the victim is substantial and does make sense. If this fighting case of Exod 21:18-19 has compensation as a measure, why not Exod 21:22-25? If this lex talionis is understood by equal retribution, it is not consistent with the previous case of bodily injury (vv.18-19). Moreover, the lex talionis of Exod 21:23-25 does not clearly spell out "death penalty" like LH or MAL; it says "life for life, ... eye for eye." This "life for life" formula is not equal with "taking out life" by equal retribution. As Daube suggests, the Hebrew word n n n is close to the concept of "substitute," as similarly expressed in Lev 24:18, where in case of animal killing "life for life" means a substitution, not killing an animal as equal retribution.

25

In fact, Exod 21:22-25 is exegetically one of the most difficult laws. However, I will show that a lex talionis formula should not be taken as an equal retribution or by monetary compensation but that it should be read figuratively.26 At the outset, interpreters have the difficulty because of an unclear context and language: for example, why is a woman there on the scene? Is she a mere bystander? Is a man's fighting

25 Bernard S. Jackson, "Lex Talionis: Revisiting Daube's Classic," available at http://www.law2.byu.edu/Biblical_Law/papers/jackson_bs_lex_talionis.pdf. See also J o e M. Sprinkle, " T h e Interpretation of Exodus 21:22-25 (Lex Talionis) and Abortion" WTJ55 (1993) 233-253. 26 J o e M. Sprinkle, "Interpretation of Exodus 21:22-25 (Lex Talionis) and Abortion."

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intentional or not? Is there premature birth or miscarriage if there is no |1DN? What does |1DN mean? 27 A group of scholars (from an anti-abortion position), imposing their view of life ("a fetus is life") on the text, applies the lex talionis specifically to a fetus: the harsh lex talionis should be effective with the death of a fetus because it is life. Their points are as follows, as reflected in the N I V translation below. 28 1) A premature birth without J1DN (as serious injury) requires pecuniary compensation only, as demanded by a husband. 2) A death of fetus with further flDN (a woman receiving serious injury) requires the lex talionis: life for life, eye for eye, etc. If men who are fighting hit a pregnant woman and she gives birth prematurely but there is no serious injury, the offender must be fined whatever the woman's husband demands and the court allows. 23 But if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, 24 eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, 25 burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise (New International Version). 22

But their interpretation does not stand strong. The problem is manifold. The text does not convey a sense or possibility of a fetus' being-born-alive. The Hebrew term N^1 conveys a sense of "coming out" (depart). From the casuistic law form of Laws of Hammurabi 209-214 and M A L 50-52, the general trend of law forms indicates miscarriage throughout the laws, for instance, the Laws of Hammurabi 209: "if an awilu strikes a woman of the awilu class and thereby causes her to miscarry her fetus...". If we consider relatively poor medical advancement in ancient society, we can assume easily that the possibility of premature birth would be rare. A fetus is not considered as life in SAL as in the Hebrew Bible. Laws of Hammurabi treat miscarriage as an economic accident; thereby it is sufficient to compensate for the loss of a fetus. F o r example, L H #209 states that an awilu s miscarriage requires payment of 10 shekels of silver only. M A L #50 also asks for full payment of a life for Ibid., New King James Version (NKJ) follows the NIV. Other than that, a majority of translations such as RSV, NRSV, NJB, and TNK assumes "miscarriage" throughout the case. 27

28 The

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IN EXOD 21:22-25

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a fetus. A fetus has economic value in miscarriage. According to this view, the fetus is not yet full life as a person. Then the opposition may arise from an anti-abortion perspective: biblical law can be different from SAL and may treat a fetus as life. But this opposition does not hold true from the Hebrew Bible in general and also from the agricultural village context. 29 In the Hebrew Bible life begins after birth. Of course, the Hebrew Bible does not mention clearly word-for-word that "life begins after birth." Some biblical passages seemingly express the idea of "beginning of life" before birth (Ps. 139:13). But that should not be understood as a literal sense of "life" as a person. Rather, it must be understood as emphasizing almighty God. In other words, Psalm's language is rather poetic and theological. Similarly, Jer. 1:5 also emphasizes God's sovereignty and almighty in a theological context: "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart." In Gen 2:7, however, we can see G o d form a human being from the dust of ground with "breath o f life" ( • " n nftUtt). Then DlNn became a living being (¡Til Unlike from Psalm 139:13 or Jer. 1:5, Gen 2:7 deals with a human origin and the beginning of life. Next, if flDN means a critical condition, thereby damaging a woman severely, and as a result, if a fetus dies, how exactly does this lex talionis operate? (vv. 23-25: "life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, strife for strife"). If "life for life" as death penalty is operative due to a fetus's death, what is about other lex talionis, for example, eye for eye, tooth for tooth? Are these other details of body parts only operative to a woman's injury? Did a woman's tooth break? What is about burn for burn? Was she burn? H o w is "strife for strife" working? As all these questions seem to be answered, the list of the lex talionis does not make sense by equal retribution. Even nnn (life for life) cannot be simply taken as meaning death penalty. 30 All subsequent n n n (e.g. f y py n n n ...) can figuratively express the importance of equal payment. This concept of equal payment is close to the seat of the lex talionis I discussed in the previous section. 29 In the agricultural ancient community where infant mortality & miscarriage is high, a fetus can be hardly a human person. Circumcision might be a sign that a child becomes a person. 30 Joe M. Sprinkle, "Interpretation of Exodus 21:22-25 (Lex Talionis) and Abortion."

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T h r o u g h o u t the process in Exod 21:22-25, miscarriage is assumed with or without J1DR A fetus is not full life yet, thus financial payment is fine. If there is further harm (J1DN) to a woman, this is the case of bodily injury like 21:18-19. Furthermore, with an economic and psychological mode of reasoning, the equal retribution of lex talionis is less reasonable; it does not help anybody, leaving only burden or uneasiness of a woman, or the hatred of an offender. A figurative sense of the lex talionis comes out of the idea that life (not a fetus but a woman) is precious. This line of thought is consistent with 21:18-19 (bodily injury) and with 21:26-27 (a slave owner's striking of a slave's eye or tooth.) 3 1 In this latter case, the penalty is not the lex talionis as expected. Rather, a slave must go free because a slave is also life. If the biblical lex talionis were applying here as literal equal retribution, a slave owner's eye or tooth would have to be pulled out equally. But that is not the case here. A n implication f r o m this case is that a literal equal retribution does not help anybody: both for a slave owner and a slave. If that happens, a slave is still in the same situation but with emotional burden with a slave owner; a slave owner would lose more than an eye. Probably his business will be in jeopardy because of his loss of an eye. A middle position can meet the need of both parties with justice (and also quality of life and respect for life). So, the release of a slave is properly operative in this case. My point is that equal retribution does not w o r k in this case. Furthermore, the verb JDJ (to give) in Exod 21:23 can be used t o express "substitution" or "compensation." 3 2 This means that you shall give equal price for whatever damage is done. 33 Even the unintentional homicide case in 21:13-14 does not require capital punishment as such; instead, the offender can flee to a refugee place. Mosaic Law in general does not require death penalty for unintentional homicide. 34 T h e n 31

Ibid., Joe M. Sprinkle, "Interpretation of Exodus 21:22-25 (Lex Talionis) and Abortion." See also Bernard S. Jackson, "Lex Talionis: Revisiting Daube's Classic" Center for Jewish Studies, available at http://www.law2.byu.edu/Biblical_Law/papers/jackson_bs_lex_talionis. pdf 33 S. Isser, "Two Traditions: The Law of Exod 21:22-23 Revisited," CBQ 52 (1990) 30-44. 34 J. K. Mikliszanski, "The Law of Retaliation and the Pentateuch" JBL 66 (1946) 295-303. 32

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what should we say about 21:22-25? Is these men's fighting more serious than homicide? 35 Even the lex talionis found in Deut 19:21 and Deut 24:17-21 should be understood figuratively. 36 In case of Deut 19:21, a false witness should be dealt, "life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot." Let us imagine one situation like this: if one person strikes another person, half-destroying his eye and one witness testifies against the victim. If a witness's false testimony is found later, according to the literal application of the lex talionis, this witness's eye should be half-destroyed. Then, who will care about the victim? The victim needs cure and his life must continue with virtual compensation. So, the witness's eye-destruction as penalty would not help anyone and it is not justice. Who wants such a measure that does not help the victim? From this reasoning, it can be said that the lex talionis formula, life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot should be understood figuratively and then the witness's virtual compensation would help the victim. In case of Lev 24:17-21, intentional killing is dealt with death penalty (24:17, 21). But the following lex talionis formula, "anyone who maims another shall suffer the same injury in return: fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, the injury inflicted is the injury to be suffered" (24:19-20) is different. It is unlikely that this lex talionis could mean equal retribution from a similar reasoning with Deut 19:21. So, this formula of Lev 24:19-20 also could be understood figuratively. 4.

CONCLUSION

A derivative moral principle of honoring life emerges from the figurative sense of the lex talionis-, there is only one as God-given life or life vitality (Gen 1:27; 2:7).37 God is "the giver of life" (Deut 30:19; Job 33:4), the "fountain of life" (Ps. 36:9), and the "preserver of life" (Ps. Joe M. Sprinkle, "Interpretation of Exodus 21:22-25 (Lex Talionis) and Abortion." 36 Ibid., See also J. K. Mikliszanski, "Law of Retaliation and the Pentateuch." 37 Douglas A. Knight, "The Ethics of Human Life in the Hebrew Bible" in Douglas A. Knight and Peter J. Paris, Justice and The Holy: Essays in Honor of Walter Harrelson (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989) 83. 35

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64:1). 38 T h e Laws of H a m m u r a b i have underlying values of "serve the master" according to social structure. So hierarchy is clear in it. Class distinction is important in that society: awilu class, commoner-class and slave. In contrast, biblical law in general is concerned with community as G o d ' s people, chosen by G o d as a covenant community. So the dominant value is to "serve G o d and the c o m m u n i t y . "

38

Ibid., 82.

THE STATE OF THE FIELD OF HEBREW BIBLE STUDY: IN CONVERSATION WITH JOHN J . COLLINS, THE BIBLE AFTER BABEL: HISTORICAL CRITICISM IN A POSTMODERN AGE (EERDMANS, 2 0 0 5 )

DAVID M . C A R R (ED.) UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY IN NEW YORK

1. John J. Collins, Introductory Remarks 2. David M. Carr, The Bible After Babel Indeed 3. F. W. (Chip) DobbsAllsop, Brief Comments 4. Amy Kalmanofsky, My Response to The Bible After Babel

BACKGROUND The following reflections come from a forum on the state of the field of Hebrew Bible study in the Columbia University Hebrew Bible Seminar on March 22, 2006. The primary focus for the forum was reviews and responses to John J. Collins, The Bible After Babel: Historical Criticism in a Postmodern Age (Eerdmans, 2005). The respondents were asked to offer "a few comments building on the book, aimed at spurring a broader discussion among colleagues about where things are going in our field." The discussion that followed was lively, and the hope is that sharing these contributions, with much of their oral character preserved, may be useful for further reflection by a wider circle. 113

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

JOHN J. COLLINS YALE UNIVERSITY DIVINITY SCHOOL

The six chapters that make up The Bible after Babel originated as the Gunning Lectures at the University of Edinburgh in November 2004.1 had been asked to speak on "The Bible in the Twenty-First Century." I ended up speaking primarily about the changes in biblical (Hebrew Bible) scholarship in the last quarter of the twentieth. I took the theme of Postmodernism, because this rather loosely defined term is often used to characterize the cultural and intellectual trends that dominated society at large in this period. My book, however, is about biblical scholarship. (Hence the sub-title). It was not my purpose to ask how biblical scholarship might be done in light of postmodernist theory, a task for which I would be ill-equipped. Rather, I set out to look at the changes that have in fact come about, and ask how they relate to the broader cultural trends with which Postmodernism is associated. In fact, I found remarkably little explicit appeal to postmodernist theory in recent biblical scholarship, apart from the work of a small number of scholars such as Yvonne Sherwood, Mieke Bal and David Clines. [To be sure, there is more than I discuss in this book, since I focus on areas that have been traditionally of central importance to the field, while some of the most interesting postmodern work, such as Tod Linafelt's Surviving Lamentations: Catastrophe, Lament, and Protest in the Afterlife of a Biblical Book (^Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), have focused, characteristically, on works that have been marginal.] But most discussions of Postmodernism characterize it by such traits as the suspicion of metanarratives and attention to voices from the margins, and these traits have indeed been prominent in recent biblical scholarship. The shift in perspective has not been due to theoretical considerations so much as to the changing demography of the field. As recently as the 1960's, the Society of Biblical Literature was primar114

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ily constituted by white male Christians, mostly Protestant ministers. The first Catholic president of the Society was in the late sixties (John McKenzie). The first woman president some 20 years later (Elizabeth Fiorenza). Jewish scholars became much more active in the guild from the 1970's on. While African American and Asian scholars are still very much a minority, their presence and influence has grown. Each of these groups has brought a new perspective to the field, and it is this growing diversity that has led to the decline of the master paradigms of the past. The central chapters of my book deal with some of the debates in major areas of biblical scholarship over the last few decades. Obviously, other examples could be chosen. In the area of historiography, the so-called minimalists, such as Thomas Thompson, have often been labeled "postmodernists," especially by William Dever. In fact, they seem to me to be rather old-fashioned positivist historians, often with a naive reliance on the factuality of the results of archeology. The growing skepticism about the historicity of the biblical account (shared to a great degree even by Dever himself) is due not to any distrust of objectivity but to the limitations of the biblical evidence. But it is quite postmodern in the sense that it results in suspicion of the received account in both the Bible and traditional scholarship. A more important shift, in my view concerns the ethical implications of the biblical narrative. The "Canaanite perspective" on the Exodus and Conquest was first articulated by Edward Said in an exchange with Michael Waltzer, and was forcefully brought to the attention of biblical scholars by Keith Whitelam. F o r most modern Westerners, the conquest of another country and slaughter of its inhabitants, as reported in the Bible whether historically accurate or not, is an outrage, and the justification of such action by alleged divine command is viewed with grave suspicion. What is remarkable in the biblical context is that it took so long for this Canaanite perspective to find a voice. The most successful, and arguably the most important, voice from the margins in recent biblical scholarship is that of feminist criticism. The validity of feminist perspectives is now so widely acknowledged that it is easy to forget how revolutionary the work of Phyllis Trible was in the 1970's. That work now seems a little dated, insofar as it is "recuperative" scholarship that tries to redeem the biblical text by stripping away the layers of patriarchal exegesis. More recent scholarship is suspicious of the claim that a pristine "gender-free" (the phrase of Tikvah Frymer-Kensky) state was envisioned in the original account

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of creation before the Fall. Yahweh is depicted as a patriarchal god from the beginning, and while subordination is introduced as a punishment after the Fall there is no apparent reason why the punishment should take the form of subordination of one gender to the other. I barely touch, however, on the point at which postmodern gender theory poses its greatest challenge to the biblical account of creation—the idea that gender roles are socially created rather than given as part of the order of nature. That challenge has not as yet been articulated forcefully in biblical scholarship, but it will surely have to be addressed in the future. The chapter on the religion of Israel is related to the one on feminist scholarship, insofar as it focuses on the evidence for goddess worship (Asherah). Here again we see the collapse of an old masternarrative. The idea that religion in pre-exilic Israel was continuous with, and not radically different from, Canaanite religion was at most a minority viewpoint a generation ago. N o w it has a claim to be the new "master-narrative." In the last chapter, I try to pull the threads of the discussion together by looking at the implications for biblical theology, broadly defined as the relevance of the Bible for the modern world. Thirty-five years ago, such scholars as G. E. Wright and Roland de Vaux could write that history provided "the foundations of our faith." In the meantime, these foundations have eroded, and this development coincides with the rise of "non-foundationalism" as a movement in philosophy and theology. Some theologians try to make a virtue of the lack of foundations, arguing that the only foundation for theology is faith. But the point of non-foundationalism is that there are no demonstrable foundations, and this is not relieved by the appeal to faith. Postmodernists tend to be skeptical of claims to universal truth. Consequently, there is a tendency to say that different traditions are selfvalidating for those who stand within them. After 9/11/2001 Stanley Fish wrote an Op-Ed piece in the N e w York Times ("What Is Truth?" Oct. 15, 2001) in which he rightly criticized attempts to frame the conflict as G o o d vs. Evil. H e rightly noted that the terrorists had reasons, in their tradition, for what they did. But, wrote Fish, "our convictions are by definition preferred, that is what makes them our convictions." The terrorists could say the same. Fish conjures up a vision of a postmodern world where people have no hope of finding common ground and can only act on their own convictions, even if these lead directly to conflict with others.

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I argue however that this bleak scenario is not a necessary one. It is still possible to find values that are shared between different traditions or that can be shared between people of different faiths. As an example I take Emanuel Levinas's concern for the face of the other, which is at root a variant of the Golden Rule. Such a concern for the other is not alien to biblical tradition. It is central to both Testaments, as Levinas was well aware. But he does not base his argument on an appeal to canonical tradition, but to philosophical phenomenology. Such concern is in no way peculiar to Judaism and Christianity. Concern for the other is not necessarily the only biblical value that finds resonance in other traditions, but it is a significant one. It provides a criterion from which other positions can be criticized, and I think it is obvious that much of the biblical tradition itself is found wanting by this criterion, as the prophets and Jesus already knew. The collapse of metanarratives in the postmodern era brings with it a danger of chaos, of incompatible voices each convinced that their convictions are by definition preferred. But this danger can be averted. O n the whole, the experience of the last quarter century has been a positive one. The broadening conversation has brought new voices to the table, and the persistent attention to the "others" who have hitherto been neglected is a salutary exercise for biblical scholarship.

THE BIBLE

AFTER

BABEL,,

INDEED

DAVID M . C A R R U N I O N THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY IN NEW YORK

In the few minutes I have here, I will explain why I think the main title better describes the contribution of John Collin's book. And I think the contribution of this study—this "account of some of the main changes in the study of the Hebrew Bible ... in the last third of the 20th century" as he puts it in his preface (p. vii)—is significant. Overall, despite the space given to discussion of Postmodernism and associated movements, despite the care taken to read secondary literature regarding Postmodernism and the handful of truly poststructuralist Biblical studies, the book as a whole appears to less focused on the Bible and Postmodernism per se, and more generally an assessment of the increasing de-centering of Biblical criticism and disenchantment of the Bible in Biblical study. It is as if Biblical studies at the SBL once was a tower being built to heaven, a scientific edifice of assured results about a shared text. And now suddenly, you get the annual program in the mail, and realize— whatever common language we thought we once had in Biblical studies is gone. We have a multitude of different languages: the old sections divided by parts of the Bible now stand alongside a panapoly of sections on history of interpretation, the Bible in the third world, various methodologies, social-history, cultural studies, etc. And so, if you are like me, you try to plot a way through the annual meeting—if you have any time to visit sessions at all—finding sessions that promise to somehow speak a language of Biblical study that is intelligible to you. As with the story of the Tower of Babel, this development can be viewed in different ways. Some might see the end of the tower project to be a disaster to be mourned—"Where did the coherence that once was Biblical studies go?" For others, however, it can be celebrated— 118

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where the end of tower building, means the end of a center from which many were excluded. " N o w we have different languages of interpretation—let's celebrate!" Yet in either case, all too rarely do scholars attempt to learn a second language, to engage perspectives unfamiliar to them, to try to really learn from them—to stop the initial impulse to dismiss those who speak another language, to listen as carefully as possible, and see what one can learn. John aims to do just that. He devotes five chapters to engaging various ways in which the languages have been confused and the peoples scattered in Biblical studies. T w o chapters focus particularly on the inclusion of new voices in Biblical studies: an engagement of liberationist and other approaches to the Exodus and an engagement of various feminist approaches to the Bible. T w o other chapters look at the collapse of older consensuses surrounding history of Israel and history of Israelite religion. The last chapter is a reflection on the ongoing potential for doing Biblical theology in this de-centered ideological world. Along the way, among other things, there is one of the best brief descriptions of the presuppositions of historical criticism that I know, a very even-handed, even kind engagement with the polarized alternatives in the minimalist-maximalist debate around historicity, a superb negotiation between various takes on the Exodus story, a succinct, balanced discussion of the issue of Asherah data and its implications, and many other examples of thoughtful engagement and balancing of different perspectives that all too often run their parallel ways in separate SBL sessions or other circles of discussion. One thread that runs throughout the book is a discussion of Postmodernism and possible postmodern aspects of the above developments. The first chapter juxtaposes the assumptions of historical criticism with those of Poststructuralism, and every other chapter includes a consideration of whether and how these developments reflect aspects of Postmodernism, deconstruction or related movements. So, for example, much of the heat surrounding the minimalists revolves around their refusal to accept triumphalist historical metanarratives that were once dominant in Biblical studies. The controversy over takes on the Exodus story underline the extent to which no text, even the Exodus story, is so stably good that it can be taken as an "intrinsic authority." Similar issues come up in dealing with the androcentrism of the Genesis creation stories. And so on.

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John admits at the outset that, "by training and temperament I am on the modern side of the modern/postmodern debate. My brain," he says," has not incubated in the languages of Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, or Stanley Fish..." (p. 3). And this is, frankly evident, as the reader of this book digs deeper, looking for characteristics of Postmodernism. As a mind incubated, or "pickled" as he puts it elsewhere, in historical criticism at its best, J o h n does not engage more fundamental aspects of theory behind Postmodernism, Poststructuralism and related discourses. We hear—a bit of Derrida, and Fish, but little substantial of Foucault, Butler, Lacan, Althusser—concepts such as the formation of the subject, interpellation, non-genetic forms of intertextuality, the play of language, etc. Let me give a quick example related to my own work. John honors me, and I mean this seriously, with a brief mention of my analysis of the garden of Eden story, where, toward the conclusion of my discussion, I say that the vision of a "non-reproductive, joyful sexuality in Genesis 2 "can be applied by extension to various forms of intimate tender sexuality between partners who "correspond" to each other: male-female, male-male, female-female." 1 John points out, truly enough, that the "text does not so much as acknowledge the possibility of same-sex relationships, let alone endorse them," and he quotes approvingly Fewell and Gunn's assertion that the female helper corresponding to the human/man is a sexual 'Opposite." John concludes that, "there can be no doubt that, for better or worse, the story affirms normative heterosexuality" (pp. 90-91). But, what is "normative heterosexuality"—if it is sex between man and woman, then yes. But this is where work by poststructuralist queer theorists like Butler, or Foucault-inspired studies of ancient sexuality suggest that "normative heterosexuality" in an ancient society like Israel meant much more—it was an unequal relationship of power, where a man possessed the sexual reproductive potential of his wife. As John notes: none of this is present in Genesis 2—no possession, no reproduction. Yet I would argue contra him and contra Fewell and Gunn that there is no focus on an "opposite" in Genesis 2 either. If there is any emphasis in Genesis 2, it is on "correspondence" and equality. And this David M. Carr, The Erotic Word: Sexuality and Spirituality in the Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003) 32. 1

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comes not just in the expression 1TUD but in the story of the making of the animals in a failed attempt to make someone truly corresponding to the male. Yes, the text lets its readers conclude that these partners are bodily male and female. What else would we expect of a text from this time and place? But given this—you could hardly write a description of creation sexual partners, male and female, that is farther from "normative heterosexuality" in the ancient Israelite sense than Genesis 2. Indeed, in describing pre-garden humanity to focus so much on correspondence and so little on reproduction, one can see in Genesis 2 what would qualify as a "queer" description of sexuality by the standards of ancient Israelite society. So we can decide then, how to extend or interpret this difference in Genesis 2 (and 3 I'd add). Let me be clear, I don't mean that we should anachronistically project endorsement of same-sex sexuality into the ancient world of the text itself. But neither should we project "normative heterosexuality" on the pre-garden world of Genesis 2 as John does, something I find equally unfitting to the semiotic elements of the text as we have it, indeed an inadequate historical reading. The text contains various fragments of meaning that are not fully homogenized to each other. Poststructuralist approaches can give the Biblical scholar openness to tease out the ways texts (and readings of them) splay out in different directions, without attempting to subdue them to one, "normative" (or "counter-normative" I'd add) model. So in this instance and some others John does not engage Postmodernism and Poststructuralism in its real otherness. This is not unusual in Biblical studies. As Stephen Moore has pointed out in several recent writings and presentations, true Poststructuralism has hardly made any inroads in Biblical scholarship, aside from studies such as Yvonne-Sherwood's, and particularly various culture-critical studies of history of interpretation. In contrast to the success of more centered forms of literary approaches to texts, Poststructuralism, Moore argues, is just too contradictory to the logocentric character of Biblical studies. So the contribution of Postmodernism at its best, in John's eyes, seems to involve recognition of textual indeterminacy, diversity among interpreters, deepened appreciation of "the other" without subsuming that other to a master narrative, and a heightening of historical criticism's already existing provisional character by more radically critiquing various master narratives/theories. If this version of Postmodernism discussed by John Collins was a wine, it would be a nice dry, full bodied historical-criticism with hints of Postmodernism. It is a histori-

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cal criticism taken further towards its own goals: the autonomy of the interpreter expanded to true freedom from various metanarratives, a sober analysis of the Bible as a document closer to its Ancient Near Eastern roots than to the Christian theological presuppositions it has been used to support, and an even deeper and truer embrace of the provisional character of even the best exegetical efforts. There are shifts in the discipline more fundamental than the superficial impact of Postmodernism, and these shifts John does engage, and engage seriously. The discipline is not as it once was. Some has to do with poststructuralist developments, and much else—as John says— with the radically shifting context in which Biblical studies is done and the personnel who do it. In the past, it has been all too easy to marginalize the growing number of divergent voices, dismiss them as graduate students, pre-tenure scholars and errant professors at university programs known for their avant garde character. John, speaks as a wellrespected and established scholar from the center—whatever center is left—of Biblical studies. This statement is an important step forward in the development of a productively de-centered form of Biblical studies.

BRIEF COMMENTS ON J O H N COLLINS'S

BIBLE

AFTER

THE

BABEL

F. W. DOBBS-ALLSOP PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY

Let me begin with a word of appreciation for John and what he has done here. I like The Bible After Babel very much. In particular, I admire John's willingness to read through a large swath of literature, including a lot of theoretical work from outside of our field and much from within the field written under the banner of Postmodernism that is not always so very compelling. I also greatly appreciate the good sense of so much of his own commentary, sober and judicious throughout—this is one instance in which the accompanying blurbs (on my copy they are on the back cover) get it mostly right. This good sense is evident, for example, in John's appreciation of how historical criticism "created an arena where people with different faith commitments" could work together and have meaningful conversations (10), in his awareness that if a text may have more than one possible meaning, "it cannot mean just anything" (10), and in his recognition that many of the so-called "minimalists" do not evidence a postmodern agenda whatsoever (33) and as often as not are as totalizing and foundationalist as the scholars and positions they criticize (43). Further, John insightfully observes that a major implication of postcolonialism, feminist theory and the like "is a cautionary one against according intrinsic authority to any story or to any text" (74)—indeed, it is the question of biblical authority and how it is to be negotiated that postmodernist theory in its various stripes "raises in an acute way" (97). And one last example, John perceptively discerns in his reading of the work of Emmanuel Levinas the abiding relevance of what he calls "universal principles" (156)—as Jeff Stout (along with other pragmatist 123

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thinkers) reminds us, here much depends on how we parse matters: "An obligation can be universal in the sense of applying ... to everyone, without requiring a supposedly universal point of view (wholly independent of the ethical life of a people) for its justification." 1 In other words, one of the things that John takes away from Levinas is the notion that ideas, even according to a metanarrative-wary Postmodernism, can still have a transhistorical and transcultural reach, even if their validity will always need to be negotiated, adjudicated locally. Finally by way of appreciation, let me applaud the book's coverage. As John notes he could have included chapters on other relevant topics. However, the ones he has selected seem to me, at any rate, to be of recurring importance and interest and they routinely appear in the course I teach every-other year on biblical interpretation in a postmodern world, including the Waltzer-Said debate and, interestingly, the question of the goddess in Israelite religion. So here I finally have a book focused on biblical criticism that I can confidently put in the hands of students which illustrates well how we might begin to thoughtfully and creatively negotiate some of the new interpretive terrain in our field. David [Carr's] instructions were not to offer a review of The Bible After Babel, but more to begin to think about the future of the field of Biblical Studies in light of some of the paradigm shifts that the book charts. Even that seems to me to be a very tall task and I will ultimately beg off (mostly) from attempting it. One of the realities of our post-Enlightenment moment is that the kinds of knowledge that can be generated in the field—the types of research one can undertake—if not totally unlimited is incredibly broad and wide-ranging. Guessing what might catch some subset of the field's fancy is certainly beyond my abilities and something I'm not very interested in anyway. I suspect that we will continue for some time now being a field marked more by pluralities of interests than a core of assumed paradigms of study. I, for one, find this exciting and think it a good thing. I will restrict my comments here, then, to identifying what I see as two of the more important implications for future scholarship in the field that may be teased out from John's work, and then I will close by calling attention briefly to one area of research that I hope we will see more of in the future. The first implication that I want to identify is 1

Democracy and Tradition (Princeton: Princeton University, 2004) 195.

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125

the need for our research to be theoretically informed. The awareness that all paradigms of study, whatever their nature, are theoretically motivated and always assume certain presuppositions proscribes the kind of theoretical naivete that has characterized much of our field's research in the past. It is not that such theoretical awareness always needs to be made explicit in our writing, but that all of our research should be carried out knowingly 2 in light of theory's enabling conceptualizations. Moreover, insofar as there is nothing in the kinds of research we undertake that distinguishes Biblical Studies from other disciplines in the humanities, we will want to emulate John's example by engaging, integrating, and adapting theoretical insights generated in other fields. It is no longer viable for us to stop reading at the borders of our own discipline. And, indeed, we may even aspire to producing the kind of work that will inspire appropriation and adaptation by other fields.3 The other implication of John's work that I want to underscore here I hope is plain for all to see, namely: that Postmodernism (by whatever definition) does not presuppose or in any way require ignorance of history or the constraints that history places upon all intellectual work. T o the contrary, Postmodernism asserts (sometimes quite emphatically) in Stanley Fish's words that all matters "are intelligible and debatable only within the precincts of the contexts or situations or paradigms or communities that give them their local and changeable

2 O f course, the shaping force of theory remains no matter what; the only question is to what degree are we, as researchers, aware of our theoretical indebtedness and how effectively do we wield the instruments of theory for our own selected ends. 3 By this I do not mean to imply that biblical criticism has not had influence beyond its disciplinary borders in the past. It has. An outstanding recent example is the literary critic Jerome J. McGann, whose re-immersion in the tradition of philological scholarship that dominated biblical and classical studies from 1780 to 1930 (e.g., J . G. Eichhorn, J. G. Herder, A. Geddes, and J. S. Vater) proved to be the catalyst for his own historicist program of literary study. O f this tradition, he writes, "it provides criticism with a model case

history" and "an exemplary methodology" (Social Value and Poetic Acts: The Historical Judgment of Literary Work [Cambridge: Harvard University, 1988] 60). However, it is my own sense that this is not the norm and that, more often than not, Biblical Studies is on the receiving (or user) end of interdisciplinary discourse.

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

shape." 4 T o make the point I habitually begin my "Biblical Interpretation in a Postmodern World" class by having students read pieces that speak in various ways to the historical nature of life as we currently know it—most recently I had them read through Charles Sherover's wonderfully stimulating collection of essays on time entitled Are We In Time?5—and thus embed and ground everything we do in that course within a larger awareness of life's informing historicity. Sometimes I think we fail to remember that whatever heuristic benefits may be gained from synchronically oriented studies—and there are many—at the end of the day pure synchrony is, as R. Jakobson pointed out early on, illusory, since "every synchronic system has as its past and its future as inseparable structural elements of the system: (a) archaism as a fact of style; the linguistic and literary background recognized as the rejected old-fashion style; (b) the tendency toward innovation in language and literature recognized as a remnant of the system." 6 That is, synchrony is always part and parcel of a larger informing diachrony, and there is no way of ignoring the force of the latter. And thus, I welcome the focus given to John's book by its subtitle, Historical Criticism in a Postmodern Age, for I think that one of the challenges for us today is precisely not to lose sight of the fact that it is above all the historical dimension of our particular field of study that most distinguishes what we can do and how we do it. As noted earlier, for all practical purposes there is no limit to the kinds of knowledge we can generate in our research. What constraints there are are precisely those imposed by the

Doing What Comes Naturally: Change, Rhetoric, and the Practice of Theory in Literary and Legal Studies (Durham: Duke University, 1989) 342. 5 Are We In Time? And Other Studies on Time and Temporality (ed. G. R. Johnson; Evanston: Northwestern University, 2003). 6 R. Jakobson and J. Tynjanov, "Problems in the Study of Literature and Language," in Verbal Art, Verbal Sign, Verbal Time (R. Jakobson; eds. K. Pomorska and S. Rudy; Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1985) 26. Jakobson's critique here has de Saussure's championing of synchrony uppermost in mind. He is intent on stressing that there is no way of avoiding the reality of diachrony: "each system necessarily comes forth as evolution and on the other hand evolution inevitably carries with it the character of a system" (Ibid.). Or as he states in another essay, a "true-to-the-fact synchronic description of language must consistently consider the dynamics of language" (R. Jakobson, "Sign and System of Language: A Reassessment of Saussure's Doctrine," in Verbal Art, Verbal Sign, Verbal Time, 29). 4

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socio-historical situatedness of the texts, languages, and cultures we study and all of the attendant difficulties that accompany any (and every) program of historical research. 7 In closing, I want to echo the words of Tamara Cohn Eskenazi as quoted in the last chapter of The Bible After Babel in reference to Levinas's work: "It is exhilarating to see this biblical 'vocabulary' (i.e., frames of reference) and basic ideas applied to an interpretation of reality that extends beyond the confines of specifically biblical or even religious discourse" (154). There is much to admire in the work of Emmanuel Levinas, but like Eskenazi, I admire most how he uses biblical (and Talmudic) themes and ideas and stories to think by and how he then proceeds to move these ideas, themes, etc. onto ever larger and more encompassing planes of discourse, and does so without pleading special privilege (i.e., the presumed authority of divine revelation). One of the chief gains of postmodernity is that religious discourse is no longer (automatically) ruled out of bounds. 8 This is not to say that such discourse need not be critical, it does, and religious thinkers must attend more carefully to how they move and frame ideas motivated by religious conviction in a pluralistic conversation (this is the principle burden of Jeff Stout's recent Democracy and Tradition from which I quoted earlier), but still postmodernity makes a place for religion and religious discourse in a way quite different from that in the Enlightenment, and thus, like John, I would answer in the affirmative to the question he poses in his last chapter title, "Is a Postmodern Biblical Theology Possible?" 9 But there is no reason why the thinking we do

7 This has important implications for how we think about shaping a future generation of scholars. The chief challenge, as I see it, is to ensure that students have a sufficient grounding in the history, cultures, and languages of the ancient Near East, a task that becomes increasingly difficult given the general brevity of doctoral education in the United States (normally consisting of 2-3 years of coursework) and the increasing cutbacks of funding for graduate education in the field. No program of research in Biblical Studies can be successful (or persuasive) in ignorance of historical knowledge, however difficult the latter may be to come by and adjudicate. 8 See, for example, John D. Caputo, On Religion (London/New York: Routledge, 2001). 9 Here, let me be clear that the kind of postmodern biblical theology that John has in mind (and one that I would subscribe to) is unabashedly critical and explicitly nonfoundationalist (and thus non-fideistic) in orientation. For

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

through biblical texts must be confined to an explicitly theological idiom, pitched primarily to a mostly parochial audience (e.g., synagogue or church), and this I take to be the central thrust of Eskenazi's exhilaration in Levinas (and is one of the themes that may be teased out as well from Michael Fox's recent post on the SBL Forum.) 1 0 This is an exhilaration that I, too, share and an avenue of criticism that postmodernist thought, in its various strands, opens onto in a provocative and perhaps timely way. The Bible, as well as other literature from the ancient Near East, potentially has much to contribute to intellectual discourse on a whole host of issues, including, as John himself highlights, most crucially matters that bear on our notions of human flourishing and well-being (i.e., ethics). 11 There is much else that one could (and should) say about The Bible After Babel, and hopefully we will do that shortly. I'll end my own initial observations as I began them (and thus framing them appropriately with a thematic inclusio) by reaffirming my appreciation to John for a stimulating and thoughtful book.

my own efforts in this direction, see, for example, F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, Lamentations (IBC; Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 2002), esp. 23-48. 10 See http://www.sbl-site.org/Article.aspx?ArticleId=490 11 For one example of how biblical texts can be used to enjoin intellectual conversations beyond theology, see F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, "The Delight of Beauty and Song 4:1-7," Interpretation 59 (July, 2005) 260-77.

M Y RESPONSE TO THE BIBLE AFTER BABEL

A M Y KALMANOFSKY JEWISH THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY

My contribution to a discussion of the future of the field is to offer myself, a newly minted Bible scholar, and my orientation to the Bible and biblical scholarship as a subject for scrutiny and critique. At the risk of narcissism, I believe that as a recent product of the field—I, for better and for worse, provide a glimpse into the future of the field. By describing myself and my interests, I hope to spark discussion about where the field may be heading under the direction of new scholars like me. I will begin with a comment that Collins makes on page 9; he writes: "The existence and importance of empirical data can not be denied, but this is not the major factor in the changing face of biblical studies. Far more important is the changing demography of the field. Up to the 1960s, biblical studies was largely the preserve of white male Christian professors, largely Protestant." I am white, female, and Jewish. And these factors, among others, certainly impact on my perspective and my scholarship. Another factor, I went to college in the mid to late 80s. Still more factors that shape me and my scholarship—I am a rabbi, but a liberal one. My first critical Bible teacher was Tikva Frymer-Kensky. M y Ph.D. is from a Jewish seminary. I was trained by scholars who were trained in the methods of historical criticism. I'm currently teaching at The Jewish Theological Seminary. These are some of the details that help you define me, though there are others—some of which I'm even willing to share. And I think these biographical details matter and ought to raise certain questions. For example, which factor informs me most as a scholar—being a woman or being a Jew? 129

130

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

So what kind of a Bible scholar am I? Where do I fit on the spectrum presented by Collins between historical criticism and Postmodernism? This was the question I kept asking as I read through Collins' book. What was most surprising to me was the realization that despite my training, which had no formal exposure to postmodern methods and ideas yet plenty of exposure to Akkadian and Ugaritic, both my teaching and my scholarship is postmodern inflected. By this I mean, to follow Collins' criteria, I value ambiguity in and multiple interpretations of text (though this may make me less a postmodernist than a traditional Jewish Bible interpreter) and I am suspicious of those who claim objectivity in interpretation and meaning. I believe that the biographical factors that I listed above do shape me as a scholar and interpreter of this text. I am a critical reader of the Hebrew Bible who considers the text to be more story than history. I am not invested in whether or not the Israelites were in Egypt and were carried out on eagles' wings. I am more interested in how national identity forms and evolves through story. And how these stories reflect the values and beliefs of ancient Israel. My areas of interest are feminist criticism, rhetorical criticism, reader-response criticism and biblical theology. My dissertation applied contemporary literary theory on the genre of horror to the Bible, an anachronistic endeavor for some, and examined a rhetoric of horror in the book of Jeremiah. I am currently interested in the use of metaphors in the Bible—particularly those that use gender specific images such as the laboring woman or Daughter Zion. I am interested in how these metaphors are constructed and used and what they reveal about gender differences in the Bible. All of this, I realized as I read this book, makes me a fairly postmodernist scholar. And yet, I believe that every text should be understood in its historical context—as Collins said, "in light of the literary and cultural conventions" of its time. Scholars need to figure out these conventions as best they can through language study, archeology, and analogous texts from the A N E . For example, to better understand the metaphor of Daughter Zion, one should read the city-laments of the A N E . T o better understand gender difference in the Bible, one must understand how ancient Israelite society was structured. I believe there are and should be "limits to the conversation" and that historical criticism provides us with that. Appreciating ambiguity does not mean that a text can mean anything at all. T o use Collins' own example, I do not think that the primary meaning of the word

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131

almah is virgin. And I do not believe that it's O K for me to draw an analogy between the Bible and Rosemary's Baby as if these 'texts' are not separated by at least 2000 years of history and perspective. Ideas and texts are bound by the time that produced them. Some ideas may persist and appeal through the ages, but it is the responsibility of scholars—as opposed to theologians or philosophers—to consider these ideas in context. Frankly, I find it difficult to categorize myself. Given my areas of interest and my overall orientation to the Bible, if cornered, I would say that I'm a postmodern scholar who consults and depends on historical critical scholarship. Naturally, it is difficult for me to determine how much I exemplify new Bible scholars at large. I would be curious as part of our discussion for the veterans in the field to respond to that. H o w unique am I in terms of my orientation and biography? And what does that mean for the future of the field? Collins writes: "The main gain of postmodernist criticism, in my view, is that it has expanded the horizons of biblical studies, by going out to the highways and by-ways to bring new "voices from the margin" to the conversation." But I wonder, has biblical studies moved too far from its center so that we are offering new insights on marginal topics such as horror in the Bible? How many new Biblicists are committed and skilled historical critical scholars? I am also curious about the question of audience. W h o are Bible scholars writing for? Given the religious, uncritical orientation of most of the Bible's readers, are Bible scholars only writing for themselves? O r is it naive to think that even the most secular among us are not in conversation with the Bible's religious readers. And what do Bible scholars, in particular, offer other academic disciplines? Finally and with this I'll conclude, I hope we can discuss some more practical details about the future of the field. Will there be jobs? What kind of jobs will they be? Where will they be? Secular universities or seminaries? And perhaps most important of all, will there be tenure?

E V I L AND T H E DISRUPTION OF O R D E R : A STRUCTURAL ANALYSIS OF T H E ACROSTICS IN T H E FIRST B O O K OF PSALMS1

RONALD BENUN RBENUN@JUDAIC. ORG 1

INTRODUCTION

T h e b o o k of Psalms contains eight alphabetic acrostics, four in b o o k one and four in b o o k five, creating symmetry over the entire b o o k of Psalms. T h e role of these acrostics has been variously explained as an artistic device, a mnemonic tool, or a pattern which implies completeness. 2 This paper will argue that acrostics in Psalms are part of a sophisticated literary system which creates a series of signposts intended to guide the reader t o each psalm's embedded message. A deliberate disruption in the alphabetic sequence at precise locations in the text and other more subtle anomalies in an otherwise very structured p o e m are examples of such signposts. We expect these acrostics to be perfectly arranged according t o a simple and predictable alphabetic pattern. Surprisingly, however, only three of the acrostics in Psalms have the complete alphabetic series N to D. All the others are missing verses beginning with some letters. Ps 9 / 1 0 is missing seven of the 22 letters of the H e b r e w alphabet. Psalm 25 is missing a 1 and a p, while psalm 34 is missing only 1. Both 25 and 34 have an extra verse beginning with the letter 2 added to the end.

1 This work is based on the fundamental principles I learned from my mentor Rabbi Solomon D. Sassoon z.l. in our classes and discussions from 1968 to 1985. 2 See P. C. Craigie, Psalms 1-50 (WBC 19; Waco: Word Books, 1983), 129.

133

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

Psalm 37 is missing a verse for the letter y. Three of the acrostics in book five are complete and only Ps 145 is missing a 1. See Table 1. Book

Psalm

1

9/10

1

25

1

Missing Letter(s)

Missing Letter Count

Letter Added To End

7

"

15

1 and p

2

2

20 + 1 = 21

34

1

1

2

21 + 1 = 22

1

37

1?

1

-

21

5

111

Complete

0

-

22

5

112

Complete

0

-

22

5

119

Complete

0

-

22

5

145

3

1

-

21

,2

,0

,Q ,1

Total Letters

Table 1

These anomalies have been the subject of much discussion among commentators, both ancient and modern, usually focusing on the question of the reliability of the text. Most scholars believe that these acrostics were once complete and that in their pristine form they contained the entire alphabetic sequence, but have since been badly damaged in the course of transmission. However, we find it very unlikely that such glaring mistakes, which disrupt the simple alphabetic pattern for most of the acrostics, could possibly have slipped by the careful Biblical scribes. 3 This paper will attempt to show that the missing letters are 3 The Soferim, the forerunners of the Massoretes, were responsible for establishing and transmitting the exact text of the Bible. The Babylonian Talmud explains that they were called Soferim (literally "counters") "because they would count all the letters in the Torah" and other books of the Bible (B.T. Kiddushin 30a). This preoccupation with counting letters, words and verses, which is also found in the Massora, may be part of a forgotten aspect of the Biblical text. This paper will analyze word counts in the acrostics in order to show how they fit into their literary structures. This in turn suggests

EVIL AND THE DISRUPTION OF ORDER

135

in fact purposefully omitted, that their omission lies at the core of the psalms' meanings and that no emendations are necessary. The absence of a letter in a simple alphabetic acrostic captures the reader's attention and prompts him to search for an explanation. This, we will argue, is a deliberate and sophisticated literary device intended to lead the reader to uncover the psalms' structures and facilitate transmittal of their messages.4 2.1

PSALMS 9 / 1 0

O f the twenty two letters the acrostic of Pss 9 and missing. 5 The "T verse is consecutive missing letters

in the alphabet only fifteen are present in 10, while seven—"T—and 2,y,0,3,0—are completely lacking while the other six seem to be replaced by ten verses which

that the efforts of the Scribes and Massoretes succeeded in preserving a complete text. 4 F. Delitzsch, Psalms (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1883), I, 222 n. 1, commenting on the apparent omission of letters in the acrostics of Ps 9-10, draws attention to ostensibly incomplete Syriac acrostic hymns. Even though those acrostics are irregular, "both external and internal reasons leave no doubt that we still possess this poem exactly in the form in which it proceeded from Ephraim's pen." Gary Rendsburg, "Confused Language as a Deliberate Literary Device in Biblical Hebrew Narrative" Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, Vol. 2 Article 6 (1999), finds insightful examples of irregular syntax or unclear language used deliberately as a literary device to reflect the mood of the passage. Similarly, we argue that irregularities in the acrostics of Psalms are a literary technique meant to help the reader focus on the messages of these psalms. John F. Brug, "Biblical Acrostics and their Relationship to Other Ancient Near Eastern Acrostics," in The Bible in the Light of Cuneiform Literature (1990), 283-304, explains that the retention of the twenty two line form in Lam 5 which has no acrostic "may be a subtle way of stating that the intensity of the poet's grief has exhausted his poetic powers." Brug's attempts to explain some of the anomalies in Psalms acrostics are mostly feeble but he does sense that they are purposeful. 5 That these two psalms together form an acrostic is widely recognized. For example, Craigie, Psalms 1-50, writes, "There is an acrostic pattern (partially obscured), which begins in Ps 9 and concludes in Ps 10" (p. 116). James L. Mays, Psalms, (Louisville, John Knox Press, 1989), pp. 70-71, similarly writes of these psalms, "together they compose an acrostic psalm; every second poetic line begins with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Though the pattern of letters is broken in the middle of the alphabet, with some letters missing, it is nonetheless quite clear for most of the lines. There

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PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

missing letters seem to be replaced by ten verses which lack any semblance of alphabetic sequence. T h e problem of the omission of seven letters is compounded b y the inconsistent verse distribution for the fifteen recognizable letters. Based on the pattern set out in the first four verses and in the majority of this psalm, we expect each letter of the alphabet to span t w o verses: a primary verse which begins with that letter of the alphabet, and an attached verse which apparently can begin with any letter. This is similar to the structure of Ps 37 which also has a primary and attached verse for most letters of the alphabet. 6 T h e letter N has one primary verse (v 2) and one attached verse (v 3); 2 also has one primary (v 4) and one attached (v 5). However, this pattern is not followed consistently. Five letters have only a primary verse ,7. T h e 1 has three attached verses (vv 9 and n o attachment: ^ 8 l l ) and the D has t w o attached verses (vv 20-21). Thus, of the 15 letters present in the acrostic only eight—D ,p , 0 ,n ,T , 2 comply with the standard pattern of one primary and one attached verse. Since most of the letters have one primary and one attached verse we can call that the n o r m and view the rest as deviations. See Table 2 for a summary of these deviations.

are also motifs and phrases common to the two, and a plan of composition for the whole." 6 Pss 25, 34, and 145 have only one verse for each letter. Ps 119 has 8 verses for each letter. I l l and 112 have two or three letters represented within each verse. 7 We do not consider 10:2-11 to be attached verses for b but rather a substitution of sorts for the six consecutive missing letters from a to X since they are located exactly where those missing letters belong and, based on content, they form a unit discussing the thinking of the wicked person. More on this below. 8 See note 16.

EVIL AND THE DISRUPTION OF ORDER

137

Latter

Veres Peelm

Superscription Normal

Primary

K

Normal

Attached

¡7 T i

H

Total Disruption Partial Disruption

«

=

1

nan

D

Normal

t

Normal

n

Normal

=

Primary -bo

Normal Normal

mn-'

ian

a'isn

7

nin-'i

8

TBhi

•na^aa

•'aS7

H'

¡7TS3

7an

•OSS'

Nini

9

-nsa

nin-r?

aitila

Y* W

astia

mn-'

'mi

10

'nv

na

inoa'i

11

aa"

mn-'7

mar

12

•3

13

'333 n

14

I ™

16

ninf

18

nan?

S7

'3

pmWs

•'as?a

1T3H

n ^

s?

13t

a nm

D'ai

ma

nstfa

'aaina

'¡atea

"3u

nsn

mn-'

ira

na

nsraa

73

nnaos

•73n

m 3 73

IMO

n

nana

ia>sr

nntfa

Trn

Sffih

ras

71-33

m

a'nb-N

T132?

D'usr

nipn

7Ï

CPU

103^

vm

nan

tfian

•na

nnm FM

nn3

•pin ara Missing

•na

n'S'

l'Tllï

73

n

Primary

r n

- i n s r r - rwK • i n '

n37n

arsr

Primary

Attached

osata

mn-'

n"71Sïï?7 a ' S E h ma'?

mi

7S

mn-'

1ÎTT

mia

mn-'

mnr?

D'AITI

pinna

li

m a ia3

IBSJT

17 19 20 —

21

mn-'

1

¡?7T

¡ran

2

ri m

1U/D3

jiisn

71?

rs

ahr

73

13«

n333

sin

4

nua

i w a

•na

ns?

733

1311

ìVn-

5

m:

aias

73

1373

-f..--

nm

nianai

s'?a

in'3

airr

• ' i n dû a

ansn

ansaa

s

aïs'

"303

nns3

nnoaa

9

K7

nrà 131'¿'7

nnn

ITS

'¡73

•oir

lorr

'23?

ns37

nsn

73

V3D

77-

a'837H TB125J3

7331

"i'non

7-S

n3a>

1373

3

e 7

-D "1

li:

10

natfn

7«

Ti»

RfH

7-S

mn-'

1373

nas

a'-7-«

î?2h

r«3

-a

13

T7ÏT

nn'7

a'3n

33J31

basi-

nns

'3

14

73

ìrah

ahmn

mi

y^i

inni

ani

lias

un

D71S?

T7a

T3ÌH tóUK

3'üpn

03*7

VM TOT

mn-"

nyaffi

•'ìjy

refi

TI 57

73

Vi

•in1

10

11

uhm

1S1RÖ

9

15

aw-s

œsan

PK"

73

i ™

?ay

Attached Primary

nto

S7

lisi

Primary Attached

a

os®'

na 1393' vraha 13M3

M

F

6

a'715)7

Pnmary

1

nns3

atf'

ntfn

Normal

5

• 1 13

4

mann

n?o

Q >

'3

1313

TJ3

o (O O 1-

31^3

n'to

RS37

Eitra

\ 1 ! j

'3'IK

'D3OT

ansi

m a d

C. o CL

uns

•j'ìi

ntfns

TC7 - a s n

1

Ï7!l*3'

nat^

73s

Ri™y

!

3

nas'i

«037

anat

Pnma/y

H

rvi'7i?xi nnaiffs

T2Sa

mas

"¡n*.,i2>'a

Attached

2

npsns

Pnmary Attached

mis

SïïîH

ftiimy Att^hed

1

mn-'

•aa?

Eitra mn-'

HäJa'7

n'na

Normal

Partial Disruption

mais

niD7i?

•71177

Partial Disruption n

•37

1K03

E>1ra Normal

anso»

BÖ 733

ISTI

Him»y 1

73

nara

iT7y

Primary

3

Partial Disruption

TniK733

Attached

1177

12

ixi

15 16

ÌTIRÌI

17

•n-J? 18

Table 2 9 This first acrostic in Psalms is unique in that it spans t w o psalms. Ps 9 goes f r o m N to 3 (11 letters) and Ps 10 continues f r o m b to D (11 letters) so that the alphabet is split evenly between the two, even though some of the letters are missing. Furthermore, there are 164 words in Ps 9 and 162 words in Ps 10 so that the total acrostic of 326 words is split almost exactly evenly between the t w o psalms. T h e last w o r d of Ps 9, r 6 o , is not an integral part of the psalm but rather a Shaded rows indicate primary verses. Black background indicates letters which are missing (total disruption) or places where an attached verse is lacking (partial disruption). 9

138

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES

marker indicating a pause or an interruption. 10 If we leave out this i"6d from the word count as well as the TbD in 9:17, then Ps 9 also has 162 words. 11 The acrostic is split exactly in the middle both in its division of letters of the alphabet and in terms of word counts. It is statistically significant that the word count for Ps 9, which contains ten of the first eleven letters of the alphabet, should be exactly equal to the word count of Ps 10, which includes only five of the last eleven letters of the alphabet. This is a first indication that no words have been deleted in M T , and that the aberrations in the acrostic structure may be intentional. As a second indication that M T is reliable, we notice a few formal features of the acrostic. The A verse (v 6) ends with the letter "T. This is the only verse in Psalms which begins with a A and ends with a I . 1 2 The letter H verse (v 7) ends with the letter H. The letter 1 verse (v 8) also ends with the letter 1. This pattern, besides displaying subtle artistry, also drops a hint to the missing "T verse. Instead of ending the A verse with a A, as is done for H and 1, the writer ends it with a "T as a small consolation for the missing verse and to hint that its absence is intended.

See H. J. Kraus, Psalms 1-59 (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 29 and P. C. Craigie, Psalms 1-50, 76-77. The word is multi-functional. When it occurs within a psalm, it acts as a section break. However, when it occurs at the end of a psalm it indicates that the psalm before and after it are connected and should be read together. The word selah ends only three other psalms 3, 24, 46. The nbo at the end of Ps 24 connects it with Ps 25, another acrostic, thus two out of the four Selahs which end a psalm are connected to an acrostic. Pss 24 and 25 are also linked in content since the recurring word 1NU? of Ps 24:4, 5, 7, 9 occurs in the opening verse of Ps 25 thus continuing the same imagery. Further connections between 24 and 25 and use of nbo are outside the scope of this paper. 11 D^frobn is counted as one word following the ketiv. All hyphenated words count as two such as nin-b}? in 9:1. 12 Two more verses in the Bible begin with J and end with "T: Jer 2:16 and Prov 29:23. 10

EVIL A N D THE D I S R U P T I O N OF O R D E R

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