Science in Qumran Aramaic Texts (Ancient Cultures of Sciences and Knowledge) 9783161613876, 9783161613883, 3161613872

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Ancient Cultures of Sciences and Knowledge (ASK) Editors Markham J. Geller (London/Berlin), Paul J. Kosmin (Cambridge, MA), Lennart Lehmhaus (Tübingen), Matteo Martelli (Bologna), Heidi Marx (Winnipeg, MB), Tanja Pommerening (Marburg), Bernd U. Schipper (Berlin), Sabine Schmidtke (Princeton, NJ) Advisory Board Florentina Badalanova-Geller (London/Berlin), Marco Formisano (Ghent), Ida Fröhlich (Budapest), Brooke Holmes (Princeton, NJ), Rachel Rafael Neis (Ann Arbor, MI), Antonio Panaino (Bologna), Francesca Rochberg (Berkeley, CA), Jacqueline Vayntrub (New Haven, CT)

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Science in Qumran Aramaic Texts Edited by

Ida Fröhlich

Mohr Siebeck

Ida Fröhlich, born 1947; 1972 MA Eötvös Loránd University Budapest; 1984 PhD Oriental Institute St. Petersburg (Leningrad); 1993–2017 Professor of Hebrew Studies and Ancient History at the Pázmány Péter Catholic University; 2002 Doctor of the Hungarian Academy of the Sciences; 2004 member of the St. Stephen Academy of Sciences; 2000–2006 Dean of the Faculty of Humanities; since 2017 Professor emerita. orcid.org/0000-0002-5754-1743

ISBN 978-3-16-161387-6 / eISBN 978-3-16-161388-3 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-161388-3 ISSN 2752-1850 / eISSN 2752-1869 (Ancient Cultures of Sciences and Knowledge) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2022 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper, and bound by Buchbinderei Nädele in Nehren. Printed in Germany.

Foreword The idea to approach the Qumran Aramaic texts from an emic perspective of sciences, understanding them as components of the knowledge system of a given society comes from years of dialogue with Markham J. Geller. He lectured several times at the Faculty of Humanities at Pázmány Péter Catholic University Budapest on Mesopotamian magical healing, always presenting the subject in the context of the ancient knowledge system, from a perspective of the history of knowledge (Wissensgeschichte), for which he served as a Visiting Professor for several years at Freie Universität Berlin. His works – together with those of other contributors to this volume – are widely cited in the studies of this volume. The relationship with the other contributors to this volume has also been a continuous one. We often discussed issues of the Qumran Aramaic texts at conferences, invited lectures, and in personal meetings. During these conversations, the issue of knowledge and science was always at the center. Jonathan Ben-Dov is the co-editor of a volume on ancient Jewish sciences and the history of knowledge in Second Temple literature. His topics cover astronomy and calendars in Qumran, ancient reading practices and crypticscript in Qumran, as well as relations between Babylonia and the Levant. Henryk Drawnel is the editor of the fragments of the Astronomical Book of Aramaic Enoch and author of related studies. He dealt comprehensively with the relationship between the narrative parts of Aramaic Enoch and Late Mesopotamian culture, and with questions of scribal culture and knowledge transmission in the Aramaic wisdom texts from Qumran. Helen R. Jacobus is a researcher of zodiac calendars in the Ancient Near East and the Dead Sea Scrolls, and of astronomy and astrology in non-astronomical texts. Siam Bhayro is one of the editors of the Aramaic magic bowls, and author of several publications on magic bowl texts, the Watchers tradition, and on Galen’s medical texts in Syriac. Anne Burberry has recently contributed to the edition of magic bowls. Andrew B. Perrin’s research area is the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls, scribal transmission, dream-visions as revelations and their literary connections. Amar Annus’ fields are Mesopotamian cuneiform wisdom tradition and the Aramaic tradition of the Watchers. Tupá Guerra wrote her dissertation on apotropaic magic in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Of course, I have been continuously in touch with the Hungarian contributors to this

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volume. Nóra Dávid was my doctoral student, with the theme of Jewish burial customs in the Second Temple Period. Since then she has been publishing on spatial theory and the Dead Sea Scrolls, geography, and Jewish presence in Roman Pannonia. Réka Esztári wrote her dissertation on cuneiform scholarly interpretations, the structure and system of interpretation in the omen series Šumma izbu. Ádám Vér is a specialist of the Neo-Assyrian empire. The two of them have presented a number of independent and joint publications in the field of Mesopotamian religious history. The corpus of Qumran Aramaic texts has a distinctive profile. Several Aramaic scrolls are dated early, and the Pre-Maccabean origin of the majority of Qumran Aramaic texts seems certain. Much of the texts reflect themes and traditions ultimately derived from Mesopotamia. They evidently were not produced by the Qumran community. However, the ideas expressed in the Aramaic texts appear in many Hebrew texts composed before and after the establishment of the Qumran settlement (mid-2nd century BCE), and they play an important role in shaping the specifically Qumranic worldview. So far, research on Qumran Aramaic texts focused on the rich literary aspects of the corpus, mainly approaching the topic from the perspective of traditional, theologically motivated topics, namely apocalypticism, eschatology, and messianism. Science, understood as the written tradition reflecting the knowledge of a human community about the world, has not been a topic until now. The foundations of the cosmic worldview were formulated in Aramaic Enoch, which we know from Qumran, while the approach to history was based in the Aramaic texts of Daniel, also well-known in Qumran. We felt it necessary to begin to explore the worldview reflected in these texts and the forms in which it was expressed. This volume contains only a few cases, but we hope this endeavor will continue on a larger scale. Budapest, 6 October 2022

Ida Fröhlich

Table of Contents Foreword .......................................................................................................V List of Abbreviations................................................................................... IX

Ida Fröhlich Introduction: Science in Qumran Aramaic Texts ........................................... 1 Markham J. Geller “Secular” Science in Mesopotamia ...............................................................15 Réka Esztári/Ádám Vér “The Script of God” – Daniel 5:25 in the Light of Mesopotamian Omen Literature ...................................................................25 Andrew B. Perrin Symptoms and Symbols, Prayers and Portents: Diagnostic Physiognomy and the Diviner in the Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242)...............................................43 Amar Annus The Heavenly Counterparts of Adapa and Enoch in Babylonia and Israel ....65 Helen R. Jacobus How 4QAstronomical Enocha–b (4Q208–209) Transformed Elements of Late Babylonian Magical Hemerological Texts into a Synchronistic Calendar .......................................................................83 Jonathan Ben-Dov Jewish Aramaic Science and Mythology: Babylonian or Levantine Heritage? ............................................................111

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Tupá Guerra Writing Science, Writing Magic: Possible Functions for the Act of Writing. Scientific Knowledge Reflected in 4Q560 ..................................................131 Henryk Drawnel Enoch at the Ends of the Earth: Horizon-Based Astronomy and the Stars in 1 Enoch 33–36........................143 Nóra Dávid “From there I traveled to another place.” (1QEn passim): Geography in 1 Enoch 20–32 .....................................................................173 Siam Bhayro/Anne Burberry The Provenance and Purpose of the Genesis Apocryphon ..........................187 Ida Fröhlich Authorizing Knowledge: Magical Healing and the Watchers’ Tradition in Qumran...........................219

List of Contributors ....................................................................................243 Index of Ancient Sources ...........................................................................245 Index of Modern Authors ...........................................................................257

List of Abbreviations AB ABRL AbrN AbrNSup ADD AfO AfOB ALD AMD AnBib ANESSup AnOr AnSt AO.SS AOAT AOBib AOS AS AS BAM BASOR BETL BibAn BibOr BIWA BJS BMes BRM CAD

CBET CBQ CBQMS CdE CEJL

The Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Reference Library Abr-Nahrain Abr-Nahrain Supplements Claude Hermann Walter Johns, Assyrian Deeds and Documents. 4 parts. Cambridge; London: Bell and Co., 1898–1923. Archiv für Orientforschung Archiv für Orientforschung. Beiheft Aramaic Levi Document Ancient Magic and Divination Analecta Biblica Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplement Series Analecta Orientalia Anatolian Studies Anecdota Oxoniensia. Semitic Series Alter Orient und Altes Testament Altorientalische Bibliothek American Oriental Series Aramaic Studies Assyriological Studies Die babylonisch-assyrische Medizin in Texten und Untersuchungen Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium The Biblical Annals Biblica et orientalia Rykle Borger, Beiträge zum Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1996 Brown Judaic Studies Bibliotheca Mesopotamica Babylonian Records in the Library of J. Pierpont Morgan The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 1956–2006 Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology Catholic Biblical Quarterly Catholic Biblical Association Monograph Series Chronique d’Égypte Commentaries on Early Jewish Literature

X CHANE CM CP CRAI CUSAS DJD DÖAW.PH DSD DSSSE EdF EJL EPRO ExpTim FAT FB FO GMTR HANEM HBAI HdO HDR HSM HTR HUCA HUCM ICC IEJ JA JAJSup JANER JAOS JBL JCS JJS JNES JSHRZ JSJSup JSOTSup JSP LBAT

LNTS LSTS MC MRLA

List of Abbreviations Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Cuneiform Monographs Classical Philology Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology Discoveries in the Judaean Desert (of Jordan) Denkschriften: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse Dead Sea Discoveries The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition Erträge der Forschung Early Judaism and Its Literature Études préliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’empire romain Expository Times Forschungen zum Alten Testament Forschung zur Bibel Folia Orientalia Guides to the Mesopotamian Textual Record History of the Ancient Near East Monographs Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel Handbuch der Orientalistik Harvard Dissertations in Religion Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Monographs of the Hebrew Union College International Critical Commentary Israel Exploration Journal Journal asiatique Journal of Ancient Judaism Supplements Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit Journal of Ancient Judaism Supplements Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Late Babylonian Astronomical and Related Texts. Edited by Abraham Joseph Sachs. Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1955 Library of New Testament Studies The Library of Second Temple Studies Mesopotamian Civilizations Magical and religious literature of Late Antiquity

List of Abbreviations MSL NEA ÖAW.PH OeO OIS OLA Or ORA OTL PASP PBS PSI RB ResOr RevQ RGRW RHR RlA SAA SAAB SAACT SAAS SAPERE SBLMS SD SHANE SHJSH SpTU SSS STDJ STMAC STT

SVTP TAD

TAPS TDOT

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Materialien zum sumerischen Lexikon/Materials for the Sumerian Lexicon. 17 vols. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1937–2004 Near Eastern Archaeology Sitzungsberichte. Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse Oriens et Occidens Oriental Institute Seminars Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta Orientalia (NS) Orientalische Religionen in der Antike Old Testament Library Publications of the Astronomical Society of the Pacific University of Pennsylvania, Publications of the Babylonian Section Рubblicazioni della Società italiana per la ricerca dei papiri greci e latini in Egitto Revue biblique Res orientales Revue de Qumrân Religions in the Graeco-Roman World Revue de l’histoire des religions Reallexikon der Assyriologie. Edited by Erich Ebeling et al. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1928– State Archives of Assyria State Archives of Assyria Bulletin State Archives of Assyria Cuneiform Texts State Archives of Assyria Studies Scripta Antiquitatis Posterioris ad Ethicam Religionemque pertinentia Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series Studies and Documents Studies in the History of the Ancient Near East Schriften der Hochschule für Jüdische Studien Heidelberg Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk Semitic Study Series. New Series Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah Science, Technology, and Medicine in Ancient Cultures Oliver Robert Gurney, Jacob J. Finkelstein, and Peter Hulin. The Sultantepe Tablets. 2 vols. London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 1957–1964 Studia in veteris testamenti pseudepigrapha Bezalel Porten and Ada Yardeni. Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Hebrew University, 1986– 99 Transactions of the American Philosophical Society Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Edited by G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren. Translated by John T. Willis et al. 8 vols. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974–2006

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VT VTSup WAW WMANT WO WUNT WZKM YNER ZA ZAW

List of Abbreviations Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism/Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum Markham J. Geller, Evil Demons: Canonical Utukkū Lemnūtu Incantations. Introduction, Cuneiform Text, and Transliteration with a Translation and Glossary. SAACT 5. Helsinki: The NeoAssyrian Text Corpus Project, 2007 Vetus Testamentum Supplements to Vetus Testamentum Writings from the Ancient World Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Welt des Orients Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes Yale Near Eastern Researches Zeitschrift für Assyriologie Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

Introduction: Science in Qumran Aramaic Texts Ida Fröhlich

The history of science usually considers only science which is consistent with modern scientific systems, or anticipates their results. This is why astrology and magical healing, so popular in the cultures of the ancient Near East, are not classified as sciences. Reviews of the history of sciences usually begin with the Greeks.1 However, the natural environment and reality surrounding man have not changed significantly since that age. The starry sky, the relation and functioning of the celestial bodies are the same as before. The order of the seasons is still the same (even if their operation is whimsical today). The flora and fauna of the different regions may have changed, but their basic habitats may not have. Similarly, the human body and its functions have not changed, and man has remained as mortal as before. Yet, based on similar observed reality, cultures that are not far apart in age and space created different systems. Science draws conclusions about the invisible from the observation of visible things. Yet, observing the same things or phenomena can result in different systems. The reason is that perception does not exist without prior theory. Behind every observation is a pre-existing system of thought. Observers observe the same thing but develop different attitudes based on different assumptions.2 1 E.g., George Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, 3 vols., Carnegie Institution of Washington Publications 376 (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1962), 1:52 writes: “It is not yet possible to give a continuous account of early Babylonian, Egyptian and Chinese knowledge, and therefore it has seemed more expedient to begin our own survey with Homer.” However, newer adaptations will also include areas that are not considered science today, see The Oxford Handbook of Science and Medicine in the Classical World, ed. Paul Turquand Keyser and John Scarborough (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), chapters written by Glen M. Cooper, “Astrology: The Science of the Signs in the Heavens,” 381–408; and Mariska Leunissen, “Physiognomy,” 743–64. See also Jonathan Ben-Dov, “Scientific Writings in Aramaic and Hebrew at Qumran: Translation and Concealment,” in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008, ed. Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra, STDJ 94 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 379–402. 2 Paul U. Unschuld, Was ist Medizin? Westliche und östliche Wege der Heilkunst (Munich: Beck, 2003), 11–13.

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The set-up of attitudinal systems is shaped by three factors: fantasy, deductive logic, and observation.3 Fantasy or imagination is the same as the preexisting system above, the system of ideas about the environment, the world, based on things not directly experienced. In the ancient Near East this background of thought was the idea that heaven and earth were not separated, and together they formed the cosmos. A well-documented Mesopotamian idea was that the celestial phenomena were controlled by the gods, and they contained messages for earthly man. To understand the movement of celestial bodies is to decipher the will and message of the gods. The sky was considered a stone surface on which the gods engraved messages.4 The messages were about the human world, all its aspects – natural disasters, political and social events, health and disease. The diseases were caused by angry gods and mediated by evil demons. Trouble could also be caused by human hostile activity like offensive magic. The means of overcoming trouble was magic. The second factor, deductive logic and analytical thinking, explores the causal relationships between events. A phenomenon or event and the subsequent phenomenon or event may be causally related, but are not necessarily. In judging this, one often follows the principle of post hoc ergo propter hoc – that is, an earlier event in time is the reason for the later one. Ancient systems established causal relationships between astronomical phenomena, dreams, and natural events, and misdemeanors and diseases occurring later. Celestial phenomena and natural events served as omens. Influencing earthly events was possible by magic. The third factor, observation, means, among other things, the observation of the regularity of events and phenomena. Observation of celestial events yields the most obvious results. Based on observations of the regular functioning of celestial bodies, a series was created on the basis of which (e.g., a solar eclipse) realistic predictions about future events were supposed to be given. The need for categorization and serialization was also extended to natural environmental and terrestrial events. Human relations have been standardized by categories of the legal system. The recording and formalization of historical deeds and their consequences created historical thinking, according to which history is not a series of random events but a process influenced by the moral behavior of the characters. Therefore, natural sciences (called “science” in English), and knowledge related to the human

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Mark J. Geller, “Die theoretische Grundlage der babylonischen Heilkunde,” in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident, ed. Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Margarete van Ess, and Joachim Marzahn, Topoi: Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 1 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011), 153–57. 4 Francesca Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) presents brilliantly this system, with the aim of drawing attention to include cuneiform astronomical texts in the history of science.

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world (called “humanities” and “social sciences”), were measured against the same rules and both can be called science. Astrology and magical medicine are the areas where magical thinking predominates, and that is why these are the most common examples of “pseudosciences.” However, the precise observations of Babylonian astronomy, collected for the purpose of magical interpretations, served as the basis for Greek astronomy and world interpretation, which set up a system completely different from that of the Babylonians. The observations on which the Greeks based their science came from Babylonian astronomy, to which the Greeks added nothing.5 The radical turn was that the Greeks excluded the gods from their system and assumed a law behind all operations of the celestial bodies, and the rules of their operation were researched. That is why Greek astronomy is considered a science today. It was the attitude of the Greeks that changed compared to the system of observations, and eliminated the epistemological obstacle posed by the Babylonian system of science.6 In Babylon, however, the old practice continued, based on the old theory. Astronomical observations continued to include astrological interpretations, and it was still believed that the operation of the cosmological system was based on the operation of gods and supernatural beings. A similar process took place in the 5th century BCE in medicine where the Greeks disassociated illness from its connection to the gods and their wrath against man. However, the new Hippocratic system of the humoral theory that attributed illness to an imbalance of the four humors in the human body is no more rational than that which attributed the disease to the divine. Humoral theory, on the other hand, is a law-based approach and, as such, is seen as the beginning of medicine. However, the Greeks still believed in their gods, and in the effectiveness of prayer. Moreover, the practice of magical healing also survived in the Greek world. Scientific thinking is universal and covers all areas of the natural and human world. Ancient thinking systematized the constituents of space, time, and nature alike. This is evidenced by documents and literary works of the ancient Near Eastern cultures, including biblical literature. Geography as a science dealing with human space fitted into a cosmological system where heaven and earth were not separated. Categories of plants, animals, physical materials (metals, stones, etc.) were located in the same system, itemized on 5

Francesca Rochberg, “The Babylonian Contribution to Greco-Roman Astronomy,” in Hellenistic Astronomy: The Science in Its Contexts, ed. Alan C. Bowen and eadem, Brill’s Companions in Classical Studies (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020), 147–59. 6 Gaston Bachelard, La formation de l’esprit scientifique (Paris: J. Vrin, 1938) = The Formation of the Scientific Mind: A Contribution to a Psychoanalysis of Objective Knowledge (Manchester: Clinamen Press, 2002), 24–32, demonstrated how the progress of science could be blocked by certain types of mental patterns, creating the concept of obstacle épistémologique (“epistemological obstacle”).

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long lists (Listenwissenschaft), representing special forms of the natural sciences, botany, zoology, and chemistry. Memory of human history was also systematized. History was not an incoherent chain of random events for them. Historical reviews present the past as a chain of events reflecting a system on the basis of which conclusions could be drawn for the future. Thus “science” and the learning relating to man and human time, that is, the humanities, formed a single system that included all the regular knowledge needed to understand the world. It was created by “a strong interest in understanding how the physical world works, together with an assumption that the world is regular.”7 Knowledge collected and systematized on the “working of the world” relates the functioning of the cosmic spheres, and that of the world of the humans, their natural environment, the living world, and man himself. All this knowledge was acquired through systematic inquiry, used in practice, and handed down through writing and teaching. Science is created by human communities, and is a system of tried and tested ideas and methods accepted by a larger community. Science is described, traditionalized, taught, expanded, and renewed. These processes are also reflected in the documentation that can be linked to the ancient “sciences.” Data on this have survived primarily from the literacy of the great river valley cultures, Egypt and Mesopotamia. The observations and results were recorded and analyzed by professionals, usually priests of local temples. Systematic lists of observations, omen interpretations, and diagnoses were kept in the libraries of the shrines as well as in private libraries. Different interpretations and results have survived. The accumulated knowledge was applied in education. The material in the temple libraries was copied by generations of students, thus gaining a degree in the sciences. Not only was it known locally, it was true international science.8 Only material written on durable media has survived. Documents written on skin or other perishable material disappeared. Mesopotamian documents were written on clay tablets for thousands of years, with cuneiform writing. Therefore, the traditionalization of knowledge can be tracked in a systematic way. The presence of libraries and archives is documented since the Old Babylonian period. Beginning with the Assyrian era, cuneiform libraries and archives have also been found in Syria. Most of the libraries and archives have been found in private houses. These were private schools where, in addition to the reference works, school texts also survived. The majority of the 7 Philip S. Alexander, “Enoch and the Beginnings of Jewish Interest in Natural Science,” in Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature, ed. Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders (New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014), 25–49, esp. 37. 8 See Eleanor Robson, Ancient Knowledge Networks: A Social Geography of Cuneiform Scholarship in First-Millennium Assyria and Babylonia (London: UCL Press, 2019).

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stock was scientific material: interpretations of various kinds of omina, lists of various plants, animals, and materials, healing texts and incantations. The vast majority of the material in Assurbanipal’s library, the largest collection known today, contained scientific works (lexical, mathematical, historical astronomical texts, interpretations of various omina, medical texts, divinations, incantations), making up only a negligible portion of literary texts. It is to be noted that the original library documents would have included leather scrolls, wax boards, and possibly papyri, which were not written in Akkadian.9 However, being written on perishable material, they did not survive. Much of the destroyed documents could have been written in Aramaic. By the time of Assurbanipal, Mesopotamia had become bilingual. Aramaeans from the North infiltrated the Babylonian territories, and their language slowly became dominant. Aramaic, the vernacular of Mesopotamia became the lingua franca, the mediating language also for those who settled in the country. Aramaic also acted as a mediating language in the field of science and it conveyed the millennial knowledge accumulated by Mesopotamian science to the groups that spoke this language, in Mesopotamia and abroad. It soon became an intermediary between the written cultures of East and West, and also a vehicle of the spread of scholarly and literary traditions in these countries. Former inhabitants of the kingdom of Judah who were resettled in Babylonia following the fall of their kingdom (586 BCE), soon became acquainted with Aramaic (if they had not been so before). They soon adapted Mesopotamian scholarly and literary tradition which they assimilated to their home culture. The common problem of displaced groups and diaspora communities is the processing of the cultural influences that affect them, and the formation of a new self-definition, the creation of a new knowledge corpus. Works of Jewish exilic literature – the earliest pieces of the Aramaic Danielic collection (Daniel 2, 4, 5) – reflect a familiarity with the Mesopotamian methods of the interpretation of omina. However, this method was used in a different way, declared as an inspired method, revealed by the unique God of the exiles, and superior to the methods of the Babylonian sages (Dan 2:17–23). Foreign science was incorporated into a new knowledge system. In Mesopotamia, there may have been considerable Aramaic writing and literature, of which, however, almost nothing survived. Aramaic documents were found in the archives of the Jewish community of Elephantine in Egypt, as well as a copy of a wisdom work, the Aramaic novel Ahiqar, from the end of the 5th century BCE. Another group of Aramaic documents was preserved in the library of the community of Qumran that existed in the vicinity of the Dead Sea, between about 150 BCE and 68 CE. The texts they owned are from different ages and origins, and represent different languages. Most of the 9

Simo Parpola, “Assyrian Library Records,” JNES 42 (1983): 1–29.

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texts are in Hebrew – biblical manuscripts, works known elsewhere, and compositions not known elsewhere. Much of the latter group was written in the community, forming their own literary tradition. There is a significant number of Aramaic texts – surviving, unfortunately, in a very fragmentary state. Based on the age of the manuscripts, their writing, and scribal habits, it can be assumed that these works were not written locally. Qumran Aramaic texts include fragments of the biblical book of Daniel, and originals of apocryphal and pseudepigraphic compositions already known from translations. Such are the book of Tobit and an Aramaic Enochic collection, the earliest and most significant group of Qumran Aramaic texts. In addition, a number of Aramaic texts were found that were not known elsewhere. Qumran Aramaic texts are somehow related to biblical tradition, either containing biblical quotations and references, or related in content to some biblical tradition, such as the Genesis Apocryphon, the 4QBirth of Noah text (4Q534–536), the Aramaic Levi document, the New Jerusalem texts, or the group of the “Danielic” compositions (the most famous of which is 4Q242, the Prayer of Nabonidus). Together with para-biblical literature and apocalyptic, incantation texts, lists, and other compositions were found in Aramaic. It can be assumed that the Aramaic texts of Qumran originate from a Jewish diaspora milieu familiar with the general themes and the traditions that fostered biblical books. The most significant group of Aramaic texts is represented by an Enochic collection, largely but not exactly identical with the Ethiopic Book of Enoch. Earliest copies representing the Book of Watchers were written in the 3rd century BCE, probably in the Eastern Jewish diaspora. The book reveals great astronomical interest and includes a 364-day calendar of Mesopotamian origin. Peculiar elements in the narrative part show a familarity with Mesopotamian literary and religious tradition. The rest of the Qumran Aramaic texts are also characterized by a strong interest in science, and the themes of knowledge.10 Astronomical science appears not only as a separate genre in the Astronomical Book of the Enochic collection, presented as a divine revelation transmitted to an elect person by celestial beings. Parts of two astrological lists are preserved in 4Q318, a Selenodromion (tracing the position of the moon in the zodiacal signs throughout the 360-day year) and a Brontologion (weather omens related with astrology). References to science and scientific material can be included in both literary works and texts written with practical intent. Genesis Apocryphon, a paraphrase of various pericopae of the Genesis claims that Abraham teaches wisdom to the Egyptian sages from “the words of Enoch” (1QApGen ar = 1Q20 XIX, 25). The same composition includes a long geographical description on the boundaries of the land promised by God to Abraham 10 On this see Alexander, “Enoch and the Beginnings of Jewish Interest in Natural Science,” 34–36.

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(1QApGen ar = 1Q20 XXI, 15–19). The description of Enoch’s celestial and earthly journeys in the Aramaic Enochic collection contains cosmological and geographical material (1En. 17–36). The Aramaic Levi Document (group b) representing a teaching genre, contains a substantial section on metrology. Qumran Physiognomy (4Q561) is a fragmentary work containing physiognomical description. 4Q560, an incantation was written with practical purpose, against infantile fever. Genesis Apocryphon reports that Abraham delivers Pharaoh and his household from an evil spirit that causes general impotence and infertility in Pharaoh’s court (1QApGen ar = 1Q20 XX, 16–31). The Lamech narrative, in the same work, brings to mind different theories of embryogenesis (the theory of the “double semen,” and a physiognomic approach).11 The List of false prophets (4Q339) recalls from historical tradition prophets who misled their contemporaries with their false prophecies. The apocalyptic predictions that appear in the pseudo-Danielic literature are based on the view that present and future can be built on the lessons of history. The texts describing Heavenly Jerusalem (2Q24, 4Q554, 5Q15, 11Q18) provide a spatial description of the apocalyptic future. The regularities that are supposed to be discovered in the changes of history and in the future are treated in works like 4Q180–181 and the Pesher on the Apocalypse of Weeks (4Q247). Literary testaments like the Testament of Qahat (4Q542) tell moral teachings in farewell discourses, based on biblical exegesis. Aramaic learning (where the context is known) is esoteric knowledge, transmitted by angels to, and practiced by, worthy persons such as Enoch, Noah, or the patriarchs. The content of texts related to science and knowledge has a strong Mesopotamian effect, which is in line with what we know about the role of Aramaic language and literacy as a Mesopotamian mediator.12 Aramaic served as a mediator of Mesopotamian knowledge and methods into postexilic Jewish culture. However, this was not simply an acceptance. There was an interaction between Akkadian and Aramaic knowledge. There are examples when colophons of cuneiform tablets indicate that the text was copied from a magallatu, that is from a scroll, which might be taken as evidence for Aramaic writing. Aramaic ostraca found in Maresha of the Hellenistic period contain divinatory and astrological terminology in Aramaic. This material seems to have parallels not only in cuneiform literature, but also in the Aramaic Enoch fragments.13 In light of the above, the conviction emerges that

11 Ida Fröhlich, “Medicine and Magic in Genesis Apocryphon: Ideas on Human Conception and its Hindrances,” RevQ 25/98 (2011): 177–98. 12 Stephen A. Kaufman, The Akkadian Influences on Aramaic, AS 19 (Chicago; London: The University of Chicago Press, 1974). 13 Esther Eshel, “Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Light of New Epigraphic Finds,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Context: Integrating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Study of Ancient Texts, Languages, and Cultures, ed. Armin Lange, Emanuel Tov, and Matthias Weigold; in

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a body of scientific literature existed in Aramaic already in the Persian and early Hellenistic periods, and that this corpus continued some of the notions of traditional Mesopotamian science and divination. Particular terms in the vocabulary of some Qumran texts (dwq, molad, malwaš) are attested in Syriac and Mandaic, as traces of an astronomical terminology of Aramaic origin, preserved centuries later.14 Qumran Aramaic writings reflect the emergence of a new scientific worldview and a self-definition for the postexilic Jewish communities that were familiar with it. The first study, Markham J. Geller’s “‘Secular’ Science in Mesopotamia” is introductory and general in nature. It discusses an area that defines the worldview and the whole system of knowledge: cosmology and astronomy. How man imagines the universe around him largely determines his knowledge of others, the human environment, and man himself, his relationship to other living beings. The Mesopotamian worldview provides a general model of the system of things that works in the world. It examines how science is defined by the religious worldview, how knowledge and transcendence are related. The Mesopotamian astronomers and scholars who studied the heavens firmly believed the mechanism of the heaven and stars was created by the gods. Consequently, the stars were considered as functioning as a “heavenly writing.” The whole world was interpreted according to the principle of “as above, so below.” By observing and recording the movements of stars, they looked for similar patterns on earth, which could also be predicted. An astronomical approach defined all the knowledge that man considered important, and this influenced all other knowledge. Their methods were determined by the approach mentioned above. There are two major areas that do not count as science in today’s system, but in the old days they did: one is astrology, which, precisely because of the approach mentioned above, was not separated from astronomy. The other is magic, which was based on the same approach to medicine. The causes of the diseases were not sought in biological factors, but in the violation of the interdependent system, in violation of moral laws, or in human harm, in witchcraft. The direct causes of the disease are usually demonic beings that must be cast out. Magic thus rises to the level of science, its methods becoming scientific methods. The maintenance and tradition of magical healing is the same as the fields that can be considered science in the modern sense: diseases are described, systematized, preserved, discussed, enriched, and taught. The author follows the path of medicine in a section that gives a characteristic picture of this approach and practice. By the middle of the 5th century BCE, a new discipline had arisen in Mesopotamia, namely, astral association with Bennie H. Reynolds III, VTSup 140 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011), 177– 97. 14 Ben-Dov, “Scientific Writings in Aramaic and Hebrew at Qumran.”

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medicine, which combined medicine and astrology. At the same time, a different approach developed in Greek medicine. The Hippocratic collection firmly separated medicine from magic, excluding its practitioners from medical practice. However, the disappearance of a system does not mean that it has been surpassed forever: Later, indeed, with Galen and Aelius Aristides, magical medicine reappears in Greek science. The next five studies deal with questions of Mesopotamian and other influences in Qumran Aramaic literature. Réka Esztári and Ádám Vér, “‘The Script of God’ – Dan 5:25 in the Light of Mesopotamian Omen Literature” reveals an interpretive process in which a Babylonian interpretation read in Aramaic gives a new meaning to the text interpreted. The subject is the famous scene of the “writing on the wall,” and prophecy related, in which a term is used that was virtually nonexistent before the Exile: the interpretation (pešer) of a written text – originating from God. The four enigmatic words (menēʾ menēʾ teqēl ûparsîn, according to the Masoretic Text) were deciphered by the protagonist with the aid of paronomasia, a popular exegetic tool applied already by the Mesopotamian commentaries of the 1st millennium BCE, by means of which the Aramaic text gains a new shade of meaning. The text reflects direct connections, or at least an in-depth proficiency of the Aramaic author in Mesopotamian cuneiform writing, which cannot be excluded. The essay, upon applying further Mesopotamian exegetical tools, which are based on, and dependent upon, the essential characteristics of the cuneiform writing system, offers a new possible solution to this age-old riddle. Andrew B. Perrin, “Symptoms and Symbols, Prayers and Portents: Diagnostic Physiognomy and the Diviner in the Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242)” examines how we understand the role of the “diviner” (‫ )גזר‬in the Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242). Nabonidus encounters him while he suffered a “severe inflammation” for seven years before his sins were remitted. While the text states this unnamed figure is a “Judaean,” we know next to nothing of his divinatory profile, proficiencies, or performances. The paper explores a larger cultural and historical context for ascertaining the potential functions of this diviner by considering biblical backgrounds, perspectives from the larger anthology of Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls, and Babylonian divinatory and medicinal manuals relating to physiognomy and omen divination. In this way, the paper draws on a larger background of Babylonian scientific observations and omen prognostication as a way of rethinking both the persona of the “diviner” and the plot of the Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus. The figures of two sages, the Mesopotamian Adapa and Enoch, known from the Aramaic tradition, are reflected in Amar Annus, “The Heavenly Counterparts of Adapa and Enoch in Babylonia and Israel.” The author argues that the Mesopotamian image of the “son of Adapa” who sits on the throne of heaven should be understood as the heavenly counterpart of Adapa. During

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heavenly ascent, the mythical sage Adapa became identified with his celestial double. This primordial event served as the mythical background for the cultic activities of Babylonian exorcist priests and their identity. The ideological connection between certain priests and the flood hero is also found in the Jewish pseudepigraphic accounts, where Enoch and Noah are described in similar terms or having similar functions. Some Jewish writings give account of the heavenly counterparts of authorities, whose appearances are described as young or youthful personalities, resembling the “son” of Adapa in the Babylonian material. The seeing of one’s double during heavenly ascent can be explained as “autoscopic experience” from the neuroscientific point of view. Helen R. Jacobus, “How 4QAstronomical Enocha–b (4Q208–209) Transformed Elements of Late Babylonian Magical Hemerological Texts into a Synchronistic Calendar,” compares 4QAstronomical Enocha–b (4Q208–209), an early text belonging to the Enoch Astronomical Book, to Late Babylonian magical lists that use the zodiac. It is shown that this text, and the Late Babylonian hemerological magical text BRM IV, 19 and related texts, are probably descended from common sources. 4Q208–209 dispensed with the textual elements relating to spells and rituals, retained other key elements, and introduced other components, such as the lunar fractions for the synchronistic calendar. Knowledge transfer is mapped in Jonathan Ben-Dov, “Jewish Aramaic Science and Mythology: Babylonian or Levantine Heritage?” that deals with the Mesopotamian elements of the Qumran Aramaic writings, which appear in scientific and mythological texts, like Enochic astronomy, and the narrative about the Watchers and Giants. It is not known whether the Jewish authors knew the Babylonian scholarly establishment. It can be assumed that Babylonian knowledge reached the Jewish scribes not via a direct Babylonian contact but rather as part of a general Levantine koine. That koine contained Babylonian elements alongside other, Hellenistic, as well as local elements. Themes of knowledge transfer are continued in the next five papers, together with questions of tradition and innovation, and the role of personal observation in creating scientific texts, as well as how knowledge of foreign origin was embraced and authorized with the help of a core tradition of the community. Tupá Guerra, “Writing Science, Writing Magic: Possible Functions for the Act of Writing. Scientific Knowledge Reflected in 4Q560” discusses the importance of the act of writing in connection with an apotropaic healing incantation, 4Q560. The act of writing is an essential part of scientific activity that has the primary functions of recording and transmitting information. Writing scientific knowledge in antiquity, particularly scientific knowledge related to healing, can have many other symbolical and practical uses. The paper considers magical healing from an emic perspective as science, as

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related to healing, and explores the possibility that writing science and applying science were connected in the healing incantation of 4Q560. Henryk Drawnel, “Enoch at the Ends of the Earth: Horizon-Based Astronomy and the Stars in 1 Enoch 33–36” analyzes the last chapters of the Book of the Watchers in order to evaluate traditions and terminology related to the Astronomical Book (1 Enoch 72–82; 4Q208–211). Although there exists a thematic relationship with especially chapter 76, the Astronomical Book material in the last chapters of the Book of the Watchers attests to a lower degree of acquaintance with Aramaic and Ethiopic schematic astronomy. On the other hand, the analyzed text of the Book of the Watchers proves that the Enochic scribes explicitly linked astronomical knowledge of the Astronomical Book with what they understood as horizon-based astronomy, related, as it seems, to actual observation of celestial phenomena and mythic exploration of the horizon where these phenomena originate. Nóra Dávid, “‘From there I traveled to another place.’ (1QEnoch passim): Geography in 1 Enoch 20–32” examines the earthly spatial approach in the Aramaic Enochic collection and aims at reconstructing the spatial concept of the author(s) of 1 Enoch 20–32. While describing the journeys of Enoch towards the edges of the Earth, the author provides it with the elements of his own geographical knowledge. In these descriptions of Enoch’s journeys different elements of nature are mentioned, such as plants, spices, minerals. Besides the depiction of the real world, these additions sometimes have eschatological meaning, while in other cases they complement Enoch’s account and provide extra information about the places visited. Therefore, with the examination of this mappa mundi based on possible historical connections, and with searching for parallels in other written sources, one hopes to reconstruct at least a part of the geographical knowledge of the Second Temple-era author(s). Siam Bhayro and Anne Burberry, “The Provenance and the Purpose of the Genesis Apocryphon” intend to argue in their paper that the Genesis Apocryphon is Babylonian in origin, and that the geographical details it contains represent a kind of ancient gazetteer – they should not, therefore, be taken as evidence for Judaean provenance. Another theme of their writing is the basic theme of the Genesis Apocryphon, arguing that the Noah and Abram cycles share a common theme that demonstrates the unity of the text and its overall purpose – namely, concern for purity of the bloodline of both the Noahic and Jewish covenants. Ida Fröhlich, “Authorizing Knowledge: Magical Healing and the Watchers’ Tradition in Qumran” examines how common Near Eastern and Judaic knowledge was integrated into Qumran apotropaic practice. 4Q560, an Aramaic incantation written against fever and illnesses, reflects the structure and vocabulary of ancient Near Eastern exorcistic texts. Regarding the origin of fever, the introduction refers to the Watchers’ tradition. 11Q11 is a

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Hebrew composition with four apotropaic songs (one of them is Psalm 91), written in the community. The songs may have served liturgical purposes. The third song refers to the Enochic tradition when originating the killer demon from the Watchers. The apotropaic formula – without the reference to the origin of the spirits – is documented in later Jewish magical texts. It can be assumed that both Qumran texts used previously existing formulas. The reference to the Enochic tradition was intended to ensure the effectiveness of magical knowledge and to give authority to these texts in the community.

Bibliography Alexander, Philip S. “Enoch and the Beginnings of Jewish Interest in Natural Science.” Pages 25–49 in Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature. Edited by Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders. New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014. Bachelard, Gaston. La formation de l’esprit scientifique. Paris: J. Vrin, 1938 = The Formation of the Scientific Mind: A Contribution to a Psychoanalysis of Objective Knowledge. Manchester: Clinamen Press, 2002. Ben-Dov, Jonathan. “Scientific Writings in Aramaic and Hebrew at Qumran: Translation and Concealment.” Pages 379–402 in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008. Edited by Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra. STDJ 94. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010. Cooper, Glen M. “Astrology: The Science of the Signs in the Heavens.” Pages 381–408 in The Oxford Handbook of Science and Medicine in the Classical World. Edited by Paul Turquand Keyser and John Scarborough. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. Eshel, Esther. “Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Light of New Epigraphic Finds.” Pages 177–97 in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Context: Integrating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Study of Ancient Texts, Languages, and Cultures. Edited by Armin Lange, Emanuel Tov, and Matthias Weigold; in association with Bennie H. Reynolds III. VTSup 140. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011. Fröhlich, Ida. “Medicine and Magic in Genesis Apocryphon: Ideas on Human Conception and its Hindrances.” RevQ 25/98 (2011): 177–98. Geller, Mark J. “Die theoretische Grundlage der babylonischen Heilkunde.” Pages 153–57 in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident. Edited by Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Margarete van Ess, and Joachim Marzahn. Topoi: Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 1. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Kaufman, Stephen A. The Akkadian Influences on Aramaic. AS 19. Chicago; London: The University of Chicago Press, 1974. Leunissen, Mariska. “Physiognomy.” Pages 743–64 in The Oxford Handbook of Science and Medicine in the Classical World. Edited by Paul Turquand Keyser and John Scarborough. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. Parpola, Simo. “Assyrian Library Records.” JNES 42 (1983): 1–29. Robson, Eleanor. Ancient Knowledge Networks: A Social Geography of Cuneiform Scholarship in First-Millennium Assyria and Babylonia. London: UCL Press, 2019. Rochberg, Francesca. The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.

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Rochberg, Francesca. “The Babylonian Contribution to Greco-Roman Astronomy.” Pages 147–59 in Hellenistic Astronomy: The Science in Its Contexts. Edited by Alan C. Bowen and Francesca Rochberg. Brill’s Companions in Classical Studies. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020. Sarton, George. Introduction to the History of Science. 3 vols. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publications 376. Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1962. Unschuld, Paul U. Was ist Medizin? Westliche und östliche Wege der Heilkunst. Munich: Beck, 2003.

“Secular” Science in Mesopotamia Markham J. Geller

A solar eclipse is always an eerie and strange event. The sky becomes dark at midday, birds stop singing, dogs bark. Even in our age of science, one feels as if nature is sending an ominous message. But imagine what the reaction to an eclipse would be in the ancient world, in which people were sensitive to signs and omens thought to be messages from gods, warning them about floods and fires, drought, disease, storms, and of course human enemies. In antiquity, eclipses meant bad news for the king and country. A good example is a lunar eclipse in 671 BCE, which greatly alarmed the Assyrian king Esarhaddon, who suffered from chronic poor health as well as conspiracies against him during his 12-year reign.1 As a response to the eclipse, Esarhaddon invoked the Substitute King Ritual, which involved the king (now called “The Farmer”) withdrawing from his throne and moving from his palace into a private house. A substitute king and queen would be put on his throne, dressed in royal clothes and symbols of power. (Imagine the Russian Tzar residing in a cottage while a simple muzhik takes his place in the Winter Palace.) Since the eclipse predicted that something bad would happen to the King, at the end of the ominous period, the Substitute King and his spouse would be executed, affirming the bad omen. However, as far as we can tell from historical records, Esarhaddon was one of the last Assyrian or Babylonian kings to invoke the drastic Substitute King Ritual. I suggest that the reason for this was because of advances in science.

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Simo Parpola, Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal, Part 2: Commentary and Appendices, AOAT 5/2 (Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1983), xxix, and Simo Parpola, Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars, SAA 10 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1993), 286–89, documenting the Substitute King being put into place in 671 BCE. See also Jean Bottéro, Mesopotamia: Writing, Reasoning, and the Gods, trans. Zainab Bahrani and Marc Van De Mieroop (Chicago; London: The University of Chicago Press, 1992), 138–55, discussing the Substitute King and his fate. For popular views of eclipses, see Ulla KochWestenholz, “Babylonian Views of Eclipses,” in Démons et merveilles d’Orient, ed. Ryka Gyselen, ResOr 13 (Bures-sur-Yvette: Groupe pour l’étude de la civilisation du Moyen Orient; Leuven: Peters Press, 2001): 71–84, esp. 71 and 74–75.

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Even during Esarhaddon’s reign, his army of scholars and astronomers were hard at work taking observations about the movements of stars and making predictions about when eclipses might take place.2 Although accurate predictions might still require several more centuries, by the Seleucid Period Babylonian scholars had made enormous progress in the mathematics of astronomical calculations.3 The result is that once scholars could predict an eclipse, the omen became less “ominous”; if you know mathematically when the eclipse will occur, this removes the element of surprise.

I. The Challenge to Religion This progress in astronomy altered views of the cosmos, which profoundly affected religion. The Babylonians previously had the idea that the cosmos was guided by the gods, whose drawing of the heavens (known as the usurtu) determined how and when the stars would move.4 The Bible believes something similar, as the prophet Amos says, “God is creator of Orion and Pleiades, He exchanges shadows for morning and darkens the daylight into night” (Amos 5:8). But once the Assyrian and Babylonian scholars begin to view the heavens as clockwork, which moves according to its own rules and 2 See the astrologers’ reports in Hermann Hunger, Astrological Reports to Assyrian Kings, SAA 8 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1992). 3 See the recent discussion of eclipses regularly being recorded in Babylonian astronomical diaries (John M. Steele, “The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries,” in Keeping Watch in Babylon: The Astronomical Diaries in Context, ed. Johannes Haubold, John M. Steele, and Kathryn Stevens, CHANE 100 [Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2019], 19–52, esp. 27–29, 37, 41–42. In the same volume, Mathieu Ossendrijver, “Babylonian Market Predictions,” 53–78, esp. 63–64, documents the reporting of market prices associated with eclipses in the same sources. 4 W.G. Lambert, Babylonian Creation Myths, MC 16 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013), 176 cites a passage from the large astrological omen compendium Enūma Anu Enlil, which refers to primordial time “when Anu, Enlil, and Ea, the great gods, in their sure counsel, had fixed the designs (uṣurāt) of heaven and earth.” A variation of this same theme also refers to these same gods, who “created heaven and underworld, distinguished them, established stations, founded positions (for the stars), appointed gods of the night, divided the courses, drew the constellations, divided the courses, divided night from daylight, [measured] the month and formed the year …” (ibid., 177). In Enūma eliš V 1–2, it is Marduk who is credited with having personally organised the cosmos, that “he fashioned heavenly stations for the great gods, and set up constellations, the patterns of the stars” (Lambert, ibid., 99). See also the comment on this same passage in Jean Bottéro, Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia, trans. Teresa Lavender Fagan (Chicago; London: The University of Chicago Press, 2001), 69–70, where he argues that scholars in later Hellenistic times “transformed their empirical astrology into scholarly astronomy,” with the stars forming “a sort of perfect supracosmos,” which Bottéro compares to Plato. Nevertheless, Bottéro insists that stars belonged to the realm of the gods in Babylonian thinking.

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laws which can be predicted mathematically, this changes everything. Theology now had to adapt itself to a new vision of the heavens, which was one no longer guided by gods but by science. But this was not all bad news for religion, since interest in the heavens replaced the Underworld as the source of all higher knowledge. Instead of going down to the Netherworld, like Gilgamesh’s comrade Enkidu, or Odysseus, visionary figures like Enoch were traveling to the seven heavens to discover the secrets of the cosmos, including astronomy.5 Nevertheless, despite acquiring new astronomical knowledge, the astronomers and scholars who studied the heavens firmly believed that the gods created this complex mechanism of the heavens and stars. They still believed that one could read the stars like “heavenly writing,” and that by observing and recording the movements of stars, one could then look for similar patterns on earth, which could also be predicted.6 In around 450 BCE, astronomers invented the zodiac, a very precise instrument for mapping the heavens, and this also gave rise to the science of zodiac astrology and horoscopes, which eventually replaced earlier forms of divination and predicting the future. But what is important for us is to see how these changes played out in other areas of science, which were also competing with religion.

II. Medicine and Science Medicine is the most socially relevant of any science. One can live without advanced mathematics and even astronomy, but everyone needs medicine. However, medicine involves an element of belief or faith, either as faith in our doctors or faith in the power of medicine, or faith that God or the gods intend patients to be healed. In effect, there was a lot of magic within medicine. This is certainly true of Assyrian and Babylonian medicine, as well as ancient Egyptian medicine, which contained numerous spells as well as medical recipes. But by 400 BCE, dramatic changes in Babylonian medicine

5 Enoch’s journey to the seven heavens is best documented in Second Slavonic Enoch, see Florentina Badalanova Geller, The Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch: Text and Context, Max Planck Preprint 410 (Berlin: Max Planck Institut für Wissenschaftsgeschichte, 2010). Rabbinic literature recorded a popular account of four well-known rabbis who ascended to “Pardes” (i.e. paradise), in the Tosephta, as well as in both Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds (Tractate Hagigah). 6 Francesca Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) has devoted an entire monograph to explaining this concept. The prologue of this work (ibid., 1–2) cites the evidence from Akkadian celestial omens which were thought to have been written by the gods, with the supposition that successful interpretation of these signs could predict events concerning king and country.

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reflected the new advances in mathematical astronomy. We see the emergence of a new science, astral medicine, which combined medicine and astrology.7 Doctors now wished to apply the new discoveries in astronomy and astrology to their own work with patients. If the zodiac could accurately predict movements of stars, which could then be used to predict whether events on earth would be favourable or unfavourable, then perhaps the zodiac could also be used to predict whether the same symptoms might render a good or bad prognosis. So doctors turned their attention to zodiac signs: drugs prescribed under favourable zodiac signs might have better results than medicines prescribed under unfavourable ones.8 We could call this applied science, adapting theory to practice. The importance of this approach should not be judged by our modern standards, whether it is scientifically valid or not, but by ancient criteria of observing and recording data and inferring from the data certain patterns. This is what is meant by the dawn of science.

III. Hand of a God/Ghost One of the contentious issues within modern studies of ancient Babylonian medicine concerns disease diagnosis, since diseases were often designated by the term “hand” of a specific god, or the “hand” of a ghost, and similar such expressions. For instance, a text might tell us that if a patient suffered from certain symptoms, he suffered from the “hand of Marduk” or “hand of Ishtar” or “hand of Lilith,” or even “hand of a ghost.”9 Similar expressions describing the causes of disease already existed a thousand years earlier, in 1800 BCE, at the time of Hammurabi of Babylon.10 It seems plausible that in this early 7 See Erica Reiner, Astral Magic in Babylonia, TAPS Volume 85, Part 4 (Philadelphia: The American Philosophical Society, 1995), 59–60 for the ground-breaking discovery of melothesia in cuneiform sources; and for a complex and provocative treatment of astral medicine in Akkadian sources, see John Z. Wee, “Discovery of the Zodiac Man in Cuneiform,” JCS 67 (2015): 217–33. 8 See Reiner, Astral Magic, 2, 35, 55–56, and 111 (citing catarchic astrology as a means of determining propitious times for initiating an activity). For a useful bibliography on medical astrology, see Wee, “Discovery of the Zodiac Man in Cuneiform,” 224–25, n. 30. See also John Z. Wee, “Virtual Moons over Babylonia: The Calendar Text System, Its Micro-Zodiac of 13, and the Making of Medical Zodiology,” in The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World, ed. John M. Steele, Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 6 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016), 139–229, for a more recent discussion of medical astrology. 9 See the discussion in Nils P. Heeßel, Babylonisch-assyrische Diagnostik, AOAT 43 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2000), 49–54. 10 The older expression occurs in Old Babylonian diagnostic and prognostic medical omens as a variation on this theme, specifying the symptoms as representing the personal “seizure” (Ì.DAB = ṣibit) of the patient by a deity (e.g., Šamaš), demon (lilû) or ghost, or

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period, the understanding was that a patient’s symptoms were often induced by the personal intervention of a god, demon, or ghost. Both doctor and patient would have believed in this. Nevertheless, by the middle of the 1st millennium BCE, perceptions changed. The expression “hand” of a god or ghost could eventually take on a new meaning, even in a standard compendium of Babylonian diagnosis known as the Diagnostic Handbook.11 Among this list of some 3,000 symptoms, one section of this text (Tablet 33) has a very unusual tabular format in several columns. One column lists various skin diseases by their technical names, which we could think of schematically as “eczema” or “scabies,” or other skin conditions, while the corresponding column on the right equates each term as the “hand” of various gods.12 In other words, the designation “hand of a god” was equated with a technical disease name, because by this period the traditional vocabulary of medicine required more precision in the form of technical medical terminology. Nevertheless, the same expression probably meant different things to different people. The physician might have told the patient that his symptoms were caused by the “hand” of the god Marduk, by which he meant that the patient was suffering from a particular kind of skin ailment, but the patient could have concluded from this that he was being personally punished by Marduk through his illness. The problem for the modern researcher today is to be able to determine which meaning is really intended by late Babylonian medical diagnoses, and whether these labels, the “hand” of a god or ghost or demon, reflect science, religion, or both.

IV. The Greeks In order to cast light on this question, we turn to another area of interest, namely the Greeks. Open any textbook on the history of ancient science and you will be told that ancient science begins with the Greeks. What is typically not mentioned is that Babylonians were asking the same kinds of questions of even by a natural cause (a sand-fly), see A.R. George, Babylonian Divinatory Texts Chiefly in the Schøyen Collection, CUSAS 18 (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2013), 88. 11 The most convenient edition of most of the Diagnostic Handbook can be found in JoAnn Scurlock, Sourcebook for Ancient Mesopotamian Medicine, WAW 36 (Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2014), 13–271. See also the new edition by Eric Schmidtchen, Mesopotamische Diagnostik: Untersuchungen zu Rekonstruktion, Terminologie und Systematik des babylonisch-assyrischen Diagnosehandbuches und eine Neubearbeitung der Tafeln 3–14, Babylonisch-assyrische Medizin Band 13 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2021). 12 The tabular format cannot be seen in Scurlock's treatment of the text but can be found in the comprehensive German edition of Heeßel, Babylonisch-assyrische Diagnostik, 353– 74, and in the later discussion in Markham J. Geller, Review of N. Heeßel, Divinatorische Texte II: Opferschau-Omina (= KAL 5; WVDOG 139), AfO 53 (2015): 201–8, esp. 205; this is the only example of a tabular format within the Diagnostic Handbook.

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the cosmos and making similar observations at approximately the same time as the Greeks. The difference is that Babylonians were much better at observing and much worse at theorising, at least as far as our written records show. But some of the same tensions between science and religion can be found in ancient Greek medicine as well, somewhat to the surprise of historians of science.

V. Hippocratic Medicine On the surface, Greek medicine looks like science. The Hippocratic corpus prides itself on separating medicine from magic and the workings of magicians and diviners, who are considered to be like quacks and charlatans. The famous Hippocratic treatise on the Sacred Disease specifically rejects the idea of diseases being associated with specific gods, a clear allusion to the hand of a god causing illnesses in Babylonian medicine.13 And it is true that the Hippocratic Corpus – unlike Egyptian and Babylonian medicine – contains no incantations or magical rituals.14 All this clearly looks like scientific medicine, free of the presence of divine influence or demons and ghosts, and modern historians of medicine judge Greek medicine being seen as much more scientific than its Oriental counterparts. But there is another side to Greek medicine, which historians of medicine tend to discount. Galen – certainly the greatest of Roman physicians – was himself deeply religious, and he believed himself to have been healed by the god Asclepius.15 He would at times prescribe magical amulets to patients, and 13

See Markham J. Geller, “West Meets East: Early Greek and Babylonian Diagnosis,” AfO 48/49 (2000/2001): 50–75, esp. 54, arguing that the Hippocratic treatise Sacred Disease lists symptoms associated with individual gods, such as, “if he (the patient) foams at the mouth and kicks, Ares has the blame.” Similar statements in the Babylonian Diagnostic Handbook frequently associate such symptoms with the “hand” of a particular god or ghost, suggesting a parallel diagnostic formulation in both Greek and Akkadian (which does not necessarily represent borrowing). 14 See, however, Fritz Graf, “Greece,” in Guide to the Study of Ancient Magic, ed. David Frankfurter, RGRW 189 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2019), 115–38 (130), where he asserts that spells (epōid́ē) “were part of Greek medicine,” but unlike Akkadian medical texts, there is no record of spells to accompany treatments in collections of Greek medical recipes. 15 See H.F.J. Horstmanshoff, “Asclepius and Temple Medicine in Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales,” in Magic and Rationality in Ancient Near Eastern and Graeco-Roman Medicine, ed. idem and Marten Stol, Studies in Ancient Medicine 27 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004), 325–41, esp. 333, pointing out 1) that Galen often chose to follow the advice of a god when making personal and even medical decisions, 2) that Galen believed himself to have been saved by Asclepius from a deadly abscess, and 3) that Galen accepted that patients were generally more willing to accept advice attributed to Asclepius than from a doctor. See

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he even affirmed afterwards that these amulets seemed to restore his patients to good health. For much of his early life Galen lived in the city of Pergamon, which was also home to one of the great healing temples of the ancient world, the Asclepion, where patients were put to sleep in order to have the god Asclepius appear to them in a dream and tell the patient which medical regime he or she was to follow in order to be cured.16 Moreover, archaeologists have found a large number of votive plaques in the Asclepion attesting to miraculous cures from Asclepius’ remedies.17

VI. Aelius Aristides The best record we have of such treatments comes from the autobiography of Aelius Aristides, a famous Roman orator roughly contemporary with Galen, who was chronically ill and a confirmed hypochondriac.18 Aristides was a firm believer in Asclepius and a frequent visitor to the Asclepion, which actually resembled Club Mediterranée more than a religious centre. The Pergamon Asclepion, for instance, was equipped with a theatre, boutiques, baths, dormitories, and other amusements, in a leafy suburban setting, without all of the bloody mess of animal sacrifices typical of ordinary temples. Aristides writes that he intentionally ignored the advice of his Hippocratic doctors with their scientific medicine, and that he preferred to follow the instructions given to him by the god Asclepius in a dream, telling him to

also Christian Brockmann, “A God and Two Humans on Matters of Medicine: Asclepius, Galen and Aelius Aristides,” in In Praise of Asclepius: Aelius Aristides, Selected Prose Hymns, ed. Donald A. Russell, Michael Trapp, and Heinz-Günther Nesselrath, SAPERE 29 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 115–27, esp. 116–17, explaining that Galen considered himself to be a follower and admirer of Asclepius after being cured from an ulcer. 16 See on incubation, Horstmanshoff, “Asclepius and Temple Medicine in Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales,” 326, see also Brockmann, “A God and Two Humans on Matters of Medicine,” 119, that Galen considered two dreams explaining a successful bloodletting procedure were sent to him by Asclepius; see ibid., n. 15 for useful bibliography on medical dreams. 17 The standard publication of these inscriptions is Emma J. Edelstein and Ludwig Edelstein, Asclepius: Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998; reprint of the 1945 edition). The votive inscriptions in Epidaurus from successfully healed clients were described by Pausanias, see Horstmanshoff, “Asclepius and Temple Medicine in Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales,” 326–27, and 330–31. 18 See Brockmann, “A God and Two Humans on Matters of Medicine,” 123 for a brief account of Aristides’ career, and Horstmanshoff, “Asclepius and Temple Medicine in Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales,” 331–32, on Aristides’ popularity as an orator, which partly explains his influence as a writer.

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bathe in ice cold water of a river to get rid of a fever,19 or to refuse to have his abscess lanced by a physician.20 Perhaps Aristides was exceptionally lucky to survive such advice, but his extensive notes on his own illnesses and treatments offer an impressive testimony to religious belief over scientific theory in the area of medicine. So if we reflect back on the Babylonian example of the “hand” of a god or ghost causing disease, it is hardly surprising to find differing interpretations of this phrase, either as a technical term for illness or as a pious expression of divine interference in human affairs. In any case, advances in mathematical astronomy and academic interest in astronomy was the engine for profound changes in how the cosmos was perceived. Although gods still ruled the universe, mankind was seeking other kinds of non-divine explanations for how the world functioned, and this quest is what we now call “science.”

Bibliography Badalanova Geller, Florentina. The Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch: Text and Context. Max Planck Preprint 410. Berlin: Max Planck Institut für Wissenschaftsgeschichte, 2010. Behr, Charles A., trans. Aristides and the Sacred Tales. Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1968. Bottéro, Jean. Mesopotamia: Writing, Reasoning, and the Gods. Translated by Zainab Bahrani and Marc Van De Mieroop. Chicago; London: The University of Chicago Press, 1992. Bottéro, Jean. Religion in Ancient Mesopotamia. Translated by Teresa Lavender Fagan. Chicago; London: The University of Chicago Press, 2001. Brockmann, Christian. “A God and Two Humans on Matters of Medicine: Asclepius, Galen and Aelius Aristides.” Pages 115–27 in In Praise of Asclepius: Aelius Aristides, Selected Prose Hymns. Edited by Donald A. Russell, Michael Trapp, and HeinzGünther Nesselrath. SAPERE 29. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Edelstein, Emma J., and Ludwig Edelstein. Asclepius: Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998. Reprint of the 1945 edition. Geller, Markham J. “West Meets East: Early Greek and Babylonian Diagnosis.” AfO 48/49 (2000/2001): 50–75. Geller, Markham J. Review of N. Heeßel, Divinatorische Texte II: Opferschau-Omina (= KAL 5; WVDOG 139). AfO 53 (2015): 201–8. 19 See Brockmann, “A God and Two Humans on Matters of Medicine,” 123–24, that “Aristides, when he had left the river with his healthy skin, his body felt entirely light, and, as the report concludes, from many of the bystanders the often sung exclamation arose: ‘great is Asclepius.’” 20 See Horstmanshoff, “Asclepius and Temple Medicine,” 327, quoting Aristides: “At this point, the doctors cried out for all sorts of things, some said surgery, some said cauterisation by drug, or that an infection would arise and I must surely die. But the god gave a contrary opinion and told me to endure and foster the growth” (Aelius Aristides, Hieroi logoi 1.62–63, trans. Charles A. Behr, Aristides and the Sacred Tales [Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1968]).

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George, A.R. Babylonian Divinatory Texts Chiefly in the Schøyen Collection. CUSAS 18. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2013. Graf, Fritz. “Greece.” Pages 115–38 in Guide to the Study of Ancient Magic. Edited by David Frankfurter. RGRW 189. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2019. Heeßel, Nils P. Babylonisch-assyrische Diagnostik. AOAT 43. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2000. Horstmanshoff, H.F.J. “Asclepius and Temple Medicine in Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales.” Pages 325–41 in Magic and Rationality in Ancient Near Eastern and GraecoRoman Medicine. Edited by Herman F.J. Horstmanshoff and Marten Stol. Studies in Ancient Medicine 27. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004. Hunger, Hermann. Astrological Reports to Assyrian Kings. SAA 8. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1992. Koch-Westenholz, Ulla. “Babylonian Views of Eclipses.” Pages 71–84 in Démons et merveilles d’Orient. Edited by Ryka Gyselen. ResOr 13. Bures-sur-Yvette: Groupe pour l’étude de la civilisation du Moyen Orient; Leuven: Peters Press, 2001. Lambert, W.G. Babylonian Creation Myths. MC 16. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Ossendrijver, Mathieu. “Babylonian Market Predictions.” Pages 53–78 in Keeping Watch in Babylon: The Astronomical Diaries in Context. Edited by Johannes Haubold, John M. Steele, and Kathryn Stevens. CHANE 100. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2019. Parpola, Simo. Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal. Part 2: Commentary and Appendices. AOAT 5/2. Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1983. Parpola, Simo. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars. SAA 10. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press 1993. Reiner, Erica. Astral Magic in Babylonia. TAPS Volume 85, Part 4. Philadelphia: The American Philosophical Society, 1995. Rochberg, Francesca. The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Schmidtchen, Eric. Mesopotamische Diagnostik: Untersuchungen zu Rekonstruktion, Terminologie und Systematik des babylonisch-assyrischen Diagnosehandbuches und eine Neubearbeitung der Tafeln 3–14. Babylonisch-assyrische Medizin Band 13. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2021. Scurlock, JoAnn. Sourcebook for Ancient Mesopotamian Medicine. WAW 36. Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2014. Steele, John M. “The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries.” Pages 19–52 in Keeping Watch in Babylon: The Astronomical Diaries in Context. Edited by Johannes Haubold, John M. Steele, and Kathryn Stevens. CHANE 100. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2019. Wee, John Z. “Discovery of the Zodiac Man in Cuneiform.” JCS 67 (2015): 217–33. Wee, John Z. “Virtual Moons over Babylonia: The Calendar Text System, Its MicroZodiac of 13, and the Making of Medical Zodiology.” Pages 139–229 in The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World. Edited by John M. Steele. Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 6. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016.

“The Script of God” – Dan 5:25 in the Light of Mesopotamian Omen Literature Réka Esztári/Ádám Vér A god, I reflected, ought to utter only a single word and in that word absolute fullness. No word uttered by him can be inferior to the universe or less than the sum total of time. Shadows or simulacra of that single word equivalent to a language and to all a language can embrace are the poor and ambitious human words, all, world, universe. Jorge Luis Borges, The God’s Script

In the following, we will examine the reception of the motif and the concrete text of the famous “Writing on the Wall,” the story of which constitutes the fifth chapter of the Book of Daniel. This writing, consisting of four enigmatic words, appeared – according to the story – on the wall of the palace of the last Babylonian ruler, and was actually a riddle which no one could solve, no one but the Jewish Daniel, who thereby foretold the future of the king and his kingdom. However, during the last one and a half centuries, several scholars suggested that the original meaning of these four words differed from the one offered by Daniel according to the story, and thus assumed that the riddle still has to be solved. Since the writing has long been considered one of the numerous motifs of the book which have a general Mesopotamian background or origin,1 several attempts were made to find the concrete antitype of its actual text. However, thus far it has not been possible to convincingly define 1

See e.g., Bennie H. Reynolds, Between Symbolism and Realism: The Use of Symbolic and Non-Symbolic Language in Ancient Jewish Apocalypses 333–63 B.C.E., JAJSup 8 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), 110–35 (with previous literature on the possible archetypes of the creatures of the Danielic visions); Karel van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge, MA; London: Harvard University Press, 2009), 180–82 (on the prototype of a written prophecy, displayed in a public place, see also below); and Matthias Henze, The Madness of King Nebuchadnezzar: The Ancient Near Eastern Origins and Early History of Interpretation in Daniel 4, JSJSup 61 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 1999), esp. 91–99; Christopher B. Hays, “Chirps from the Dust: The Affliction of Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4:30 in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context,” JBL 126 (2007): 305–25; and Hector Avalos, “Nebuchadnezzar’s Affliction: New Mesopotamian Parallels for Daniel 4,” JBL 133 (2014): 497–507 (on the literary motifs appearing in the description of the mad king).

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it within the frames of the Mesopotamian cultural and textual tradition. Instead of seeking for concrete antitypes, the present paper rather aims to focus on the characteristic interpretative methods of Mesopotamian scholars, as well as on their so to say technical terminology, the joint use of which may enable us to find a new possible solution to this age-old riddle.

I. Context – Textual and Cultural With regard to their genre, chapters 2–6 of the Book of Daniel, which provide the wider context of the enigmatic text, can be considered court legends/tales that certainly arose in the Babylonian diaspora.2 Originally, these tales were individual compositions, written or told in Aramaic.3 Shortly after 164 BCE, during the compilation of the canonical book (as a whole) a Hebrew introductory chapter was placed before these Aramaic tales,4 which describes how and when the protagonist arrived at the court of the Babylonian ruler Nebuchadnezzar, where he – together with his fellows – was provided with a highstandard, “three year long” training and became familiar with the language, literature, and sciences of the “Chaldeans” (Dan 1:4).5 It is beyond dispute that the authors and/or redactors of Daniel also had deep insight into, and draw remarkable inspiration from, the Mesopotamian cultural and at times textual tradition – it suffices to mention the numerous Akkadian and Old Persian loanwords,6 or the appearance of characteristic (literary) images during the whole course of the book (such as the winged lion, creatures with horned crowns, the description of the mad king who, as a beast himself, lived among wild animals – or the writing itself, appearing on the wall).7 2 See, among others, John J. Collins, “The Court-Tales of Daniel and the Development of Apocalyptic,” JBL 94 (1975): 218–34, esp. 219–28; Klaus Koch, Das Buch Daniel, EdF 144 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980), 88–91; Lawrence M. Wills, The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King: Ancient Jewish Court Legends, HDR 26 (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1990); John J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993), 42–45. 3 See Frank H. Polak, “The Daniel Tales in their Aramaic Literary Milieu,” in The Book of Daniel in the Light of New Findings, ed. A.S. van der Woude, BETL 106 (Leuven: Peeters, 1993), 249−65, esp. 254–64. On the dating of the Aramaic stories according to their idiomatic and grammatical peculiarities see also Kenneth A. Kitchen, “The Aramaic of Daniel,” in Notes on Some Problems in the Book of Daniel, ed. Donald J. Wiseman (London: Tyndale Press, 1965), 31–79. 4 Cf. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 24–38. 5 The “language of the Chaldeans,” refers most probably not to Aramaic, but rather to Akkadian, cf. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 138–39 with previous literature. 6 See Kitchen, “The Aramaic of Daniel,” 34–44; Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 18–20. 7 See note 1.

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It is also obvious, however, that during the process of transmission these borrowed motifs and elements were re-shaped, gained new interpretations and functions, and thereupon they generally lost their original meaning and significance in their new context. Therefore, with regard to such (so-called) “Mesopotamian parallels” we cannot, and, moreover, should not speak about the actual reception, or the interaction of concrete texts – at least in most cases.

II. The Story of a Written Text – Which Becomes an Omen Our examination focuses on a case which might be an exception. With respect to the actual text of the mysterious handwriting of chapter 5, we posed the question whether – beyond the definition of the possible Mesopotamian proto- or archetype of the motif itself – one can suppose that the inscription itself is based on the generic traits and characteristic phraseology of a welldefined textual tradition. According to the well-known narrative of the court tale presented in chapter 5, during a sumptuous feast the Babylonian ruler Belshazzar (“son of Nebuchadnezzar,” as he is referred to in the Book) ordered to serve the wine from the sacred vessels brought by his father as booty from the Temple of Jerusalem.8 Suddenly, a mysterious hand appeared which (actually as a scribe or mediator of God) inscribed a text on the wall of the palace. The terrified king called for his Babylonian wise men to read and, afterwards, to interpret the enigmatic words – but they were unable to accomplish their task (“they were not able to read the writing and make its interpretation”).9 Thereafter, Belshazzar sent for Daniel who in turn successfully read the writing aloud, and then interpreted its ominous content. This story is in fact the earliest example of a new method of communication with the divine recorded in the Bible, a method which was virtually 8 The case of Belshazzar (Akkadian Bēl-šarru-uṣur) belongs to the numerous historical inconsistencies which are characteristic through the whole course of the court tales. In reality, he was the son and co-regent of the last king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, and therefore he himself never was an independent ruler. Accordingly, at the time of the Persian attack, his father, Nabonidus, was the real king. On various further confusions of the historical facts see, among others, Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 29–33. 9 MT Dan 5:8 (cf. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 236 with 248). The present study will focus on the version preserved in the Masoretic Text, accepting that it may reflect an earlier form of the text of Daniel 5 – assuming, as well, that the case of the “Writing,” presented below, may also point towards this direction. On the differences between the formulation of the Septuagint (which says that they only could not interpret the mysterious words) and the Masoretic Text at this point, as well as on the debate regarding the authenticity of the various traditions see most recently Michael Segal, “Rereading the Writing on the Wall (Daniel 5),” ZAW 125 (2013): 161–76, esp. 163–65 with previous literature.

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non-existent before the exile: it is the interpretation of a written text – a sacred text, originating from God.10 That is, we are dealing with a concept according to which it is the written text itself which can be considered ominous, from which the divine message has to be decoded, so to say. Such concepts would become more common, even the rule in the later pesharim (pĕšārîm) of Qumran, as well as in rabbinic haggadic midrash. For their earlier examples, however, one has to turn evidently to the tradition of the Mesopotamian omen literature and to its related commentaries. According to the latter and to Mesopotamian scholarly thinking in general, the very concept of an omen, as well as its interpretation were inseparable from, and substantially dependent upon, writing, the written form of the omen.11 Moreover, we actually know a definite Mesopotamian example in which the main motif of the Danielic narrative takes shape. According to an inscription of the Neo-Assyrian king Assurbanipal, in the context of a young man’s dream a writing appeared upon the pedestal of the Moon god and foretold the king’s victory. In these days a certain man went to bed in the middle of the night and saw a dream. Upon the pedestal of the god Sîn was written [a variant adds: the god Nabû, the scribe of the world, he was standing there in his divine function and reading again and again the inscription of the pedestal of Sîn]: “Upon those who plot evil against Aššur-bān-apli, King of Assyria, and resort to hostilities, I shall bestow miserable death. I shall put an end to their lives through the quick dagger, conflagration, hunger, and pestilence.” When I heard this, I put my trust in the words of Sîn.12

This is the actual motif in which Karel van der Toorn saw the clear prototype of the “Writing,” since it concerns a written prophecy displayed in a public place.13 Our main question, however, concerned whether – when we look more deeply into the Mesopotamian textual tradition – we will be able to go further and find even more concrete antitypes. According to the above, chapter 5 contains a story of a courtly competition which retained some of the basic character of a folk tale, in which the (foreign) wise men fail to understand the mysterious signs, while Daniel succeeds, actually solves the riddle and thereupon he is exalted to high rank. Although he refuses it just before his brilliant decipherment, the king finally rewards him. The very king for whom – through the interpretation of the

10

Cf. Marian Broida, “Textualizing Divination: The Writing on the Wall in Daniel 5:25,” VT 62 (2012): 1–13, esp. 1–3. 11 See David R. Brown, Mesopotamian Planetary Astronomy-Astrology, CM 18 (Groningen: Styx, 2000), esp. 136–39. 12 Assurbanipal Prism A, iii 118–127, BIWA, 40–41. 13 van der Toorn, Scribal Culture, 180–81; cf. Eckart Frahm, Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries: Origins of Interpretation, GMTR 5 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2011), 22, n. 73.

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writing – he foretells his imminent downfall, and who, in accordance with that, dies in the same night, while a certain – never-was – “Darius, the Mede” captures Babylon.14

III. “This is the Writing” This apparent inconsistency led several scholars to assume that the Writing, as it may have appeared in the original (“pre-Danielic”) form – or earlier versions – of the story, does not necessarily accord with the interpretation of Daniel known to us today, and it did not necessarily mean the same.15 Most scholars took up the hypothesis (which was well known already by the end of the 19th century) according to which the four enigmatic words can originally be interpreted as weights or measures (although it is nowhere explicitly stated, nor being alluded to in the story).16 These four enigmatic words – as they appear in the Aramaic text – are: mĕnēʾ mĕnēʾ: tĕqēl: ûparsîn:

would mean one MA.NA (mina, approximately half a kilogram, 60 shekels) and another MA.NA a šiqlu (a shekel, the 60th part of a MA.NA), (and) two halves (supposedly half MA.NA-s)

These weights may correspond to the so-called “Four-Kingdom” (or Four Empire) schema, appearing elsewhere in the same book. That is, in a similar way as – for example – the famous metaphor of metals, constituting a statue in the dream of Nebuchadnezzar (which symbolizes in turn the decline of successive empires),17 they would symbolize the value attributed to various rulers or kingdoms. Of course it is highly disputed whom they would exactly refer to: to Babylonian monarchs only (in this case the two half minas would be Nabonidus and Belshazzar, respectively, since in reality the latter was never an independent ruler, only a co-regent of his father) or to the Medes and Persians as well (then the latter two would be the two half-minas, while

14 On the latter literary character see H.H. Rowley, Darius the Mede and the Four World Empires in the Book of Daniel (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1964), 12–60; Koch, Das Buch Daniel, 191–95; and Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 30–32. 15 See Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 250–52 with an overview of the previous literature. 16 This hypothesis was first asserted by Charles Clermont-Ganneau, “Mané, thécel, pharès et le festin de Balthasar,” JA 8 (1886): 36–67. For an overview concerning the acceptance of this idea by various later authors see Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 251 with note 91; and more recently Carol A. Newsom with Brennan W. Breed, Daniel: A Commentary, OTL (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), 176. 17 Dan 2:28–45. On the “Four-Kingdom” schema in general, with previous literature see Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 166–70.

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Belshazzar would appear as the most worthless king, compared to one shekel).18 Be it as it may, the writing itself raises many further, underlying questions. Perhaps the very first one which comes to mind, as it actually did to ancient and modern commentators alike, is this: why were the Babylonian scholars unable even to read these words? They were “wise men” (as our text also tells),19 leading scholars of the Babylonian court, who were familiar with many languages of their own time, of course with Aramaic as well (which probably happened to be their mother tongue), and were provided with substantial scribal education. Here again, several possible answers were proposed. Albrecht Alt, for example, suggested that the weight measures probably appeared in the text in an abbreviated Aramaic form, that is, the inscription consisted of a series of abbreviations that were not immediately recognized as such.20 One may also mention the early rabbinic explanations, the general starting point of which was that the text was written in full, but in some kind of cryptographic way (either with the aid of gematria, or with some kind of cryptic disposition of the letters).21 Since all of these suggestions involve very simplistic techniques of encoding, neither of them gives a satisfactory explanation to the basic question – why could the Babylonian scholars not read certain simple words at all, words written in an Aramaic alphabetic script, even if they were abbreviated or, so to say, scrambled, mixed up somehow, since in fact all that was needed was the simple manipulation of a few consonants?

18 See Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 251–52; and recently Newsom, Daniel, 176 for the various interpretations. 19 MT Dan 5:7, 8 and passim. 20 See Albrecht Alt, “Zur Menetekel Inschrift,” VT 4 (1954): 303–5. 21 See Segal, “Rereading the Writing on the Wall (Daniel 5),” 162–63; and Newsom, Daniel, 181. According to another suggestion, the words of the inscription were laid out vertically in five columns of three rows, but they were cryptic since they were read horizontally. This latter layout, carefully painted and rendered correctly, was the one which was depicted in the famous painting of Rembrandt van Rijn, who in turn most probably consulted with Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel, an internationally renowned scholar of his time, and adopted his interpretation of the inscription, see Michael Zell, Reframing Rembrandt: Jews and the Christian Image in Seventeenth-Century Amsterdam (Berkeley; London: University of California Press, 2002), 58–72 with further literature; and Newsom, Daniel, 181–82.

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IV. “This is the Interpretation” However, it seems more important for our present purposes to take a closer look upon the kind of method with which Daniel interpreted the four words in question. In the explanation in verses 26–28 (after Daniel declares that “this is the interpretation” itself (dĕnâ pĕšar-millĕtāʾ), which later becomes a usual expression in the pesharim (pĕšārîm, commentaries) from Qumran,22 but can also be compared to the Akkadian (anniu piširšu – “this is its apodosis”), related to cryptic ominous phenomena,23 he repeats each word (one might say “lemma”) once more, following each with a phrase punning on the respective term. He mentions mĕnēʾ only once, which is of course completely logical, since it concerns one, single lemma, and as for its interpretation, it is irrelevant how many times it appears in the text. His interpretation is based on the root consonants of the expressions, he relates them to certain verbs by means of paronomasia, that is, on the basis of their phonetic form or value. It is a well-known technique with the aid of which one can associate with each other words which share the same, or almost the same consonantal pattern, regardless of their actual etymological relationship. So yet in Daniel’s solution finite verbal forms appear: He connects mĕnēʾ with the verb mĕnah- (“to count”) and interprets it as a passive participle: “it is numbered” – so YHWH numbered the days of (the Babylonian) kingdom. tĕqēl on the other hand can either be connected with the verb tĕqal- (which means “to measure”) or with qal- (“to be[come] light”). That is the king himself has been measured and found “light” (worthless). And finally perēs, which yet appears here in singular form, is connected with the verb pĕras- (the equivalent of Hebrew paras- and Akkadian parāsu), so the kingdom will be divided among the Medes and the Persians – and here 22

On the formulation of the interpretations from Qumran see, among others and recently, Shani L. Berrin, “Qumran Pesharim,” in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran, ed. Matthias Henze, Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), 110–33, esp. 111–13, with previous literature on the subject. 23 Frahm, Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries, 22; on the relationship between the Mesopotamian and Jewish technical terms see Martti Nissinen, “Pesharim as Divination: Qumran Exegesis, Omen Interpretation and Literary Prophecy,” in Prophecy after the Prophets? The Contribution of the Dead Sea Scrolls to the Understanding of Biblical and Extra-Biblical Prophecy, ed. Kristin De Troyer, Armin Lange, and Lucas L. Schulte, CBET 52 (Leuven; Paris; Walpole, MA: Peeters, 2009), 43–60; Frahm, Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries, 374–75; and Uri Gabbay, “Akkadian Commentaries from Ancient Mesopotamia and their Relation to Early Hebrew Exegesis,” DSD 19 (2012): 267– 312, esp. 278–305.

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we find a double pun actually, since in perēs one may also recognize the proper noun pārās, the general term for “Persians” – so even the name of the Persians was encoded in the text. To sum up briefly: “numbered, measured, and divided (among the Medes and the Persians).” Dan 5:25 (“the writing”) mĕnēʾ mĕnēʾ tĕqēl ûparsîn

Dan 5:26–28 (“its interpretation”)

MA.NA

mĕnēʾ

→ mĕnāh

šiqlu

tĕqēl

→ tĕqîltāh

½ MA.NA

pĕrēs

→ pĕrîsat (pārās)

Figure 1: The key phrases of the Danielic omen

Of course, it has already been observed by other scholars that the very concept, the process, and also the technique of this interpretation show remarkable similarity with Mesopotamian scholarly tradition.24 As we have already mentioned, the “Writing on the wall” is a divine message which transmits a divine decision (the fall of the king) – so it is in fact nothing but an omen. A sign, which had to be interpreted to reveal the divine secret, the specific event in the future which was – so to say – encoded in the sign itself. It accords perfectly with the Mesopotamian omen-concept, according to which protasis and apodosis were, as a rule, in associative connection. It is of course self-evident on the one hand, on the other, however, puts a rather different aspect on the motif, particularly since Daniel uses a technique the earliest examples of which are known especially from Mesopotamian omen tradition. Paronomasia was a popular and widely applied hermeneutical technique in Mesopotamian scholarship.25 24

See most recently Broida, “Textualizing Divination,” and Newsom, Daniel, 177–78. See e.g., Erle V. Leichty, The Omen Series Šumma izbu, TCS 4 (Locust Valley, NY: Augustin, 1970), 6; Ivan Starr, The Rituals of the Diviner, BMes 12 (Malibu, CA: Undena Publications, 1983), 9–10; Sheldon W. Greaves, “Ominous Homophony and Portentous Puns in Akkadian Omens,” in Puns and Pundits: Wordplay in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature, ed. Scott B. Noegel (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2000), 103–13; Victor Avigdor Hurowitz, “Alliterative Allusions, Rebus Writing and Paronomastic Punishment: Some Aspects of Word Play in Akkadian Literature,” in Noegel, ed., Puns and Pundits, 63–87, esp. 78–87; Scott B. Noegel, Nocturnal Ciphers: The Allusive Language of Dreams in the Ancient Near East, AOS 89 (New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 2007), esp. 9–11 and 20–21; Amar Annus, “On the Beginnings and Continuities of Omen sciences in the Ancient World,” in Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World, ed. idem, OIS 6 (Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University 25

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33

V. Relevant Mesopotamian Hermeneutic Techniques Upon taking a closer look on Mesopotamian interpretative and hermeneutic techniques, it becomes clear, however, that the expressions standing in paronomastic relationship were quite rarely written out explicitly as such, they rather could be revealed usually by a multi-step process of equations. Such processes were, in turn, dependent and based upon the Sumerian-Akkadian bilingualism, and on the basic characteristics of the cuneiform writing system – on polysemy and homophony. Polysemy, that is – to put it simple – logograms may have more different Akkadian readings, such as LA2, for example, the most common Akkadian equivalents of which are listed in Figure 2, can be equated with either the verbs šaqālu (“to weigh out, to pay”),26 qalālu (“to be[come] light”),27 kamû (“to capture, defeat”),28 and so on. In practice it means that if LA2 appears in a protasis of an omen, theoretically one can pick any Akkadian equivalent to associate it with the respective apodosis (if one comments on the omen entry), or to define the interpretation, the prediction itself (upon creating, generating an apodosis to this sign).29 Moreover, since Akkadian verbs can usually correspond to more possible logograms, and the latter, in turn, with further Akkadian expressions, and so on – in certain cases complex şâtu-type Sumero-Akkadian synonym chains,30 chains based on lexical equations, would lead to the very association.31 of Chicago, 2010), 1–18 esp. 9; Francesca Rochberg, “If P, then Q: Form, Reasoning and Truth in Babylonian Divination,” in Annus, ed., Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World, 19–26. 26 See, inter alia, Sa Voc. Q 18’; Sb II 142; MSL 9 p. 126:66 (Proto-Aa); and the further lexical entries cited in CAD Š/II, 1 (s.v. šaqālu). 27 Cf. the examples of this writing form of the verb cited in CAD Q, 55–58 (s.v. qalālu). 28 See, inter alia, Sa Voc. P 29; Antagal E a 1f; Nabnitu IV 336f; and further examples for this writing form of the verb cited in CAD K, 128–31 (s.v. kamû A). 29 On the procedure of omen generation or invention see Brown, Mesopotamian Planetary Astronomy-Astrology, esp. 130–39 (with regard to the celestial omen series Enūma Anu Enlil); and Abraham Winitzer, Early Mesopotamian Divination Literature: Its Organizational Framework and Generative and Paradigmatic Characteristics, AMD 12 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2017) (on Old Babylonian liver omens). 30 The Akkadian technical term ṣâtu (lit. “what has been extracted”) may refer to bilingual (Sumero-Akkadian) lexical lists, as well as – and more commonly – to textual commentaries (usually commenting on omens), see, among others, W.G. Lambert, “An Address of Marduk to the Demons,” AfO 17 (1954–1956): 310–21, 320; Brown, Mesopotamian Planetary Astronomy-Astrology, 127; and more recently, with reference to the term’s connection to the lexical tradition, Frahm, Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries, 48–55; and Gabbay, “Akkadian Commentaries from Ancient Mesopotamia,” 272– 73. 31 Cf. Frahm, Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries, 64–65.

34 LA2 =

Réka Esztári/Ádám Vér

kamû qalālu šaqālu maṭû

to capture, to defeat to be(come) light to weigh out, to pay to be(come) little, less, to reduce

Figure 2: Various Akkadian readings of the logogram LA2

Homophony (that is, the same or similar pronunciation of given expressions, logograms, or cuneiform signs) may also play a part. The presented example in Figure 3 is an entry from the teratological omen series Šumma izbu, according to which if a woman gives birth to a snake, the house of the man darkens.32 BE SAL MUŠ U3-TUD E2 LU2 AL-GE6 šumma sinništu ṣīra ulid bīt amēli ṣalim Protasis: MUŠ → /muš/ → mūšu (“night”) Apodosis: GE6 → mūšu /muš9 (→ ṣalāmu) Figure 3: Association between protasis and apodosis in Šumma izbu I 16

Key of the interpretation here is the logogram for “snake” (MUŠ), or, more specifically, its pronunciation, since it sounds just like another possible reading of the logogram GE6, appearing in the apodosis, which, besides ṣalmu or ṣalāmu, can also stand for mūšu (“night”).33 So the association concerns the similar pronunciation of a Sumerian logogram and an Akkadian word. Actually it is nothing else than a specific sub-type of paronomasia, a type which may, however, exclusively exist and work in this specific writing system. Thus these are the techniques the very existence of which is almost impossible to reflect in another language, using, in addition, a different writing system. Upon merely translating the latter entry to Aramaic, for example, one will never be able to picture the underlying association – so the very core of it will remain hidden. 32 Šumma izbu I 16, for the edition of this omen entry see Leichty, The Omen Series Šumma izbu, 33; and recently Nicla De Zorzi, La serie teratomantica Šumma Izbu: Testo, tradizione, orizzonti culturali, 2 vols., HANEM 15 (Padova: S.A.R.G.O.N. Editrice e Libreria, 2014), 1:222. 33 Numerous Sumerian loanwords indicate that the pronunciation of the logogram MUŠ really sounded likewise, e.g., muš-mah = mušmahhu, muš-huš = mušhuššu, muš-gal = mušgallu, etc.

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35

A good example for this is a locus in the Babylonian Talmud which preserved the explanation of rabbi Abaye (280–339 CE) who – according to the written references – surely consulted with Babylonian scholars34 and, even if only indirectly, got some insight into the astrological and medical traditions, as the following passage makes clear. Abaye comments on the eating of date stating that it must not be eaten on an empty stomach (“before the bread”) because it causes indigestion: “it’s like an axe to the date palm.” This statement in the Hebrew text is rather confusing – what is the base of this metaphor, how can the picture of the cutting of the date palm be connected to indigestion? However, the picture becomes clear – as Markham J. Geller pointed out – when we try to interpret the text in Akkadian, by actually retranslating the key phrases into Akkadian.35 The result clearly shows that here the original connection is based on a paronomastic analogy as well. Babylonian Talmud Ketubbot 10b Abaye (ca. 280–339 CE) ● Eating dates before a meal (“bread”) “is like an axe (nrgʾ) to a date palm” (indigestion, diarrhea, etc.) ● Original, Akkadian association (paronomasia): aru/eru/haru (PA) = branch, frond of a date palm arû I (HAL) = to vomit arû III = to cut branches, to “prune, lop” date palm Figure 4: The original Akkadian associations in Abaye’s interpretation

The Akkadian word for the branch of the date palm (aru) sounds very similar to the Akkadian verb arû (“to vomit”) – and this latter is homophonous with another Akkadian verb (arû) which means “to cut” or, in a specific meaning, “to prune the date palm.” Thus this talmudic passage was based on a cuneiform prototype, however, the original associations were lost in translation, which focused only on the contents of the text.

34

For the relevant sources see Markham J. Geller, Akkadian Healing Therapies in the Babylonian Talmud (Berlin: Max-Planck-Institut für Wissenschaftsgeschichte, 2004), 8–9. 35 Geller, Akkadian Healing Therapies, 19–20.

36

Réka Esztári/Ádám Vér

VI. A Possible Cuneiform Prototype? Encoding the “Writing” Aback Theoretically, however, it is possible for someone, say for an Aramaic scribe (although it requires a brilliant translator or commentator, conversant both with cuneiform and Mesopotamian commentary techniques), to reflect on a cuneiform text, while taking no account of its original associations, retaining, however, its original phraseology, and, using certain hermeneutical techniques, to add a completely new interpretation to it – accomplishing all that, in addition, in his own language. It is exactly such a possible cuneiform prototype the existence of which we are suggesting hereby, which would be actually hidden beneath the mysterious text of Dan 5:25. Of course, this wouldn’t cause any tension or conflict with the interpretation concerning the Aramaic weight measures, nor with the Danielic solution – on the contrary, it would even confirm their brilliancy – since it concerns a deeper underlying layer of the text and its reception. It is obvious that the verbs of the Danielic interpretation have their own respective Akkadian equivalents – but those would not constitute a meaningful text in themselves. It was, however, a quite suggestive fact that mĕnēʾ appears twice in the beginning of the inscription – although it was often considered a mistake, dittography, and was even corrected by certain translators, translators who not necessarily understood the very reason behind that.36 1. “Numbered …” However, anyone who read several omen apodoses would easily recall a specific type in the beginning of which the same word appears twice – and this word is “king.” That is, this kind of apodoses refers to what one king does to another (usually defeats him). Šarru (“king”), as a rule, is written with the logogram LUGAL in omen texts – so the expression LUGAL LUGAL appears in the beginning of such apodoses. Nevertheless, šarru corresponds to another logogram as well, which is MAN – two Winkelhakens (denoting also the number twenty) with the basic reading MAN or MIN3 – it is by the way the typical written form of the word “king” in royal inscriptions from the first millennium.37

36 E.g., Louis F. Hartman and Alexander A. Di Lella, The Book of Daniel: A New Translation with Notes and Commentary, AB 23 (New York: Doubleday, 1978), 189; Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 242 with previous literature; and more recently see Broida, “Textualizing Divination,” 10. 37 See the numerous references cited in CAD Š/II (s.v. šarru), e.g., Arik-dēn-ili MAN māt Aššur (“Arik-dēn-ili king of the Land of Aššur,” AOBib I 54 no. 4:1, and passim in Middle and Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions); Aššur-bān-apli MAN māt Aššur (“Aššur-

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37

LUGAL LUGAL = šarru šarra (one king another king) LUGAL (king) = šarru = MAN MAN (MIN3)

→ mĕnēʾ/manû

Figure 5: The logographic variances of the Akkadian word šarru, “king” (LUGAL, MAN)

It is actually impossible not to notice that the phonetic value, the pronunciation of the sign MAN/MIN3 can be related to the Akkadian manû (and therefore to Aramaic mĕnēʾ as well). Therefore, in this case we are dealing (again) with the homophony of a logogram and a Semitic word. Here the basic question concerned whether we can find such an omen text in which not the usual “LUGAL LUGAL” but rather “MAN MAN” appears – and we got a positive answer, since we know a certain commentary (BM 30336 obv. ii 7, which reflects on an astrological omen, see Figure 6)38 in which MAN MAN is equated, explicitly, with LUGAL LUGAL. Of course, the very fact that the expression had to be commented upon, reveals that it was not the usual, but rather an uncommon, abbreviated form – but still, it can be found in the omen literature. BM 30336 obv. ii 7 Astrological Commentary (Enūma Anu Enlil?) 2020 KUR: LUGAL LUGAL KUR-ad (šarru šarra ikaššad) one king will defeat the other Figure 6: Commentary on an astrological omen in which the writing form “MAN MAN” appears

bān-apli king of the Land of Aššur,” ADD 641:7, and passim in colophons of Assurbanipal), see pp. 79–81; and for further examples: pp. 83–84, 86–88 (Middle and NeoAssyrian, henceforth MA and NA, respectively), 91 (NA), 95 (NA), 98–99 (NA), 101 (NA), 102 (Middle Babylonian and NA), 103 (Standard Babylonian and MA), 104 (MA, NA, Neo-Babylonian), 105 (NA). 38 See Laurie E. Pearce, Cuneiform Cryptography: Numerical Substitutions for Syllabic and Logographic Signs (PhD Thesis: Yale University, 1982), 69–70; and Laurie E. Pearce, “Babylonian Commentaries and Intellectual Innovation,” in Intellectual Life of the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented at the 43rd Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Prague, July 1–5, 1996, ed. Jiri Prosecký (Prague: Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic Oriental Institute, 1998), 331–38, 332.

38

Réka Esztári/Ádám Vér

2. “… Measured …” The next expression confirmed the grounds of this attempt even more, because the Aramaic verbs teqal- and qal-, as we have already seen, correspond to Akkadian šaqālu (“to weigh”) and qalālu (“to be light”), respectively. As we have also seen, both Akkadian verbs were or could be written with the same logogram – that is, with LA2.39 Thinking in terms of polysemy, LA2 has further Akkadian equivalents, among which kamû (“to capture, defeat”)40 will be the most relevant for us now, since kamû is actually a common verb in omen apodoses in general, and written, as a rule, with LA2 in the first millennium.41 3. “… and Divided” It is also true – actually even more true – for our next verb, revealed by a longer (but still quite simple) process of equations, the starting point of which is perēs, which, as we have already mentioned, is related to Akkadian parāsu (“to cut off, divide up”). The latter can also be written either with the logogram BAR or TAR (we depict the sign BAR on Figure 7 since it is rather suggestive in itself, also denoting a “half,” a mišlu), but BAR and TAR, on the other hand, are equivalents of another common verb in the omen texts, of sapāhu, which means “to scatter.”42 So through this chain of equations we have arrived at sapāhu, which, although written with a different logogram (BIR), is one of the most common verbs in omen apodoses, where “the house of the man/or the land is scattered” – this is in fact a standard formula.43 Therefore, it is not inconceivable, that – according to the above correspondences – originally this very verb appeared here, however, in an abbreviated, so to say, encoded form.

39

See above notes 26–28 with Figure 2. See the lexical equations cited in CAD K, 128 (s.v. kamû, lexical section): Sa Voc P 29; Nabnitu IV 336f. 41 See e.g., URU.BI DIB-at LUGAL.BI LÁ-mu (“that city will be taken and its king captured,” Šumma izbu I 5); LUGAL KÚR-šú LÁ-ma (“the king will defeat/capture his enemy,” Šumma izbu VI 38, cf. also VI 39); and the numerous further examples cited in CAD K, 129 (s.v. kamû A 1b) and 131 (s.v. kamû A 4). 42 Cf. the lexical passages A I/6: 315f (BAR equated with sapāhu); A III/5:123 (TAR equated with sapāhu); for the equation with BIR see Ea V: 101; A V/2: 123; and further lexical entries cited in CAD S, p. 151 (s.v. sapāhu, lexical section). 43 See the examples cited from various omen apodoses in CAD S, 155–57 (s.v. sapāhu). 40

39

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pĕrēs → pĕrîsat → parāsu parāsu = BAR, TAR

BAR, TAR = sapāhu (“to scatter”) = BIR parāsu = TAR = BAR = sapāhu Figure 7: The logographic equivalence of the verb parāsu and the compatible verb, sapāhu

VII. Conclusion To sum up, we might reconstruct – actually by encoding the Aramaic text aback – a possible cuneiform apodosis; not necessarily one definite textual antitype, but rather a text built up from common formulas, which would mean, that “one king will defeat another” and something – implicitly the land or the kingdom – “will be scattered.”

MAN

MAN

LUGAL LUGAL LÁ-ma

LÁ

[

BAR

]

BIR-ah

One king will defeat the other, (the land?) will be scattered Figure 8: The reconstruction of the “decoded” apodosis, compared with the usual spelling

However, our former question remains standing: why could the Babylonian scholars not read all that? One possible solution is that they could not read the inscription because they did not see it at all – that is, it was a vision only seen by the king and Daniel himself.44 The other solution agrees in one respect 44

Cf. Segal, “Rereading the Writing on the Wall (Daniel 5),” 166–74.

40

Réka Esztári/Ádám Vér

with the former suggestions since it raises the possibility of a cryptographic script – not an alphabetic one, however. One brief look upon this reconstructed text enlightens that it involves partly unusual, abbreviated, defective writing forms – compared with the usual, more complete form of this expression (depicted in the second line in Figure 8), it seems quite cryptographic in itself. However, if the scholars in the story had been able to read this text, they would still not necessarily be able to give a clear interpretation of it. Since, if our very suggestion is correct, it is obviously not a coincidence that such an apodosis/or prototype was chosen – because the message here is in turn ambiguous: which king will defeat the other? Who is “one” and who is “the other”? At this point even the famous story recorded by Herodotus might come to mind about the oracle given to the Lydian king Croesus in Delphi, who, in accordance with this oracle, destroyed a great empire;45 however, not the enemy’s empire, but rather his own. It is actually the Aramaic interpretation, offered by Daniel, which makes our (supposed) message clear. It reflects on a cuneiform text, interpreting its elements with the aid of Mesopotamian hermeneutic techniques, and arrives at a new interpretation in another language. This is the very fact which makes this process brilliant: the text gains a completely new interpretation in the language of the interpreter. If this suggestion holds true, it makes also evident that the original meaning and formulas were not necessarily understood even by the redactors, editors who assembled and re-shaped the Aramaic tales – while it is evident, that they remained completely hidden in the eyes of the Greek translators. However, every single source preserved the obscure but kind of mystical, “abracadabra”-like words – words which thereby gained a new function: they proved and at once emphasized the archaic, and therefore authentic character of the text.

Bibliography Alt, Albrecht. “Zur Menetekel Inschrift.” VT 4 (1954): 303–5. Annus, Amar. “On the Beginnings and Continuities of Omen sciences in the Ancient World.” Pages 1–18 in Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World. Edited by idem. OIS 6. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2010. Avalos, Hector. “Nebuchadnezzar’s Affliction: New Mesopotamian Parallels for Daniel 4.” JBL 133 (2014): 497–507. Berrin, Shani L. “Qumran Pesharim.” Pages 110–33 in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran. Edited by Matthias Henze. Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005.

45

Histories 1.53.

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Broida, Marian. “Textualizing Divination: The Writing on the Wall in Daniel 5:25.” VT 62 (2012): 1–13. Brown, David R. Mesopotamian Planetary Astronomy-Astrology. CM 18. Groningen: Styx, 2000. Clermont-Ganneau, Charles. “Mané, thécel, pharès et le festin de Balthasar.” JA 8 (1886): 36–67. Collins, John J. “The Court-Tales of Daniel and the Development of Apocalyptic.” JBL 94 (1975): 218–34. Collins, John J. Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993. De Zorzi, Nicla. La serie teratomantica Šumma Izbu: Testo, tradizione, orizzonti culturali. 2 vols. HANEM 15. Padova: S.A.R.G.O.N. Editrice e Libreria, 2014. Frahm, Eckart. Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries: Origins of Interpretation. GMTR 5. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2011. Gabbay, Uri. “Akkadian Commentaries from Ancient Mesopotamia and their Relation to Early Hebrew Exegesis.” DSD 19 (2012): 267–312. Geller, Markham J. Akkadian Healing Therapies in the Babylonian Talmud. Berlin: MaxPlanck-Institut für Wissenschaftsgeschichte, 2004. Greaves, Sheldon W. “Ominous Homophony and Portentous Puns in Akkadian Omens.” Pages 103–13 in Puns and Pundits: Wordplay in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature. Edited by Scott B. Noegel. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2000. Hartman, Louis F., and Alexander A. Di Lella. The Book of Daniel: A New Translation with Notes and Commentary. AB 23. New York: Doubleday, 1978. Hays, Christopher B. “Chirps from the Dust: The Affliction of Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4:30 in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context.” JBL 126 (2007): 305–25. Henze, Matthias. The Madness of King Nebuchadnezzar: The Ancient Near Eastern Origins and Early History of Interpretation in Daniel 4. JSJSup 61. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 1999. Hurowitz, Victor Avigdor. “Alliterative Allusions, Rebus Writing and Paronomastic Punishment: Some Aspects of Word Play in Akkadian Literature.” Pages 63–87 in Puns and Pundits: Wordplay in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature. Edited by Scott B. Noegel. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2000. Kitchen, Kenneth A. “The Aramaic of Daniel.” Pages 31–79 in Notes on Some Problems in the Book of Daniel. Edited by Donald J. Wiseman. London: Tyndale Press, 1965. Koch, Klaus. Das Buch Daniel. EdF 144. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980. Lambert, W.G. “An Address of Marduk to the Demons.” AfO 17 (1954–1956): 310–21. Leichty, Erle V. The Omen Series Šumma izbu. TCS 4. Locust Valley, NY: Augustin, 1970. Newsom, Carol A., with Brennan W. Breed. Daniel: A Commentary. OTL. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014. Nissinen, Martti. “Pesharim as Divination: Qumran Exegesis, Omen Interpretation and Literary Prophecy.” Pages 43–60 in Prophecy after the Prophets? The Contribution of the Dead Sea Scrolls to the Understanding of Biblical and Extra-Biblical Prophecy. Edited by Kristin De Troyer, Armin Lange, and Lucas L. Schulte. CBET 52. Leuven; Paris; Walpole, MA: Peeters, 2009. Noegel, Scott B. Nocturnal Ciphers: The Allusive Language of Dreams in the Ancient Near East. AOS 89. New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 2007.

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Pearce, Laurie E. Cuneiform Cryptography: Numerical Substitutions for Syllabic and Logographic Signs. PhD Thesis: Yale University, 1982. Pearce, Laurie E. “Babylonian Commentaries and Intellectual Innovation.” Pages 331–38 in Intellectual Life of the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented at the 43rd Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Prague, July 1–5, 1996. Edited by Jiri Prosecký. Prague: Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic Oriental Institute, 1998. Polak, Frank H. “The Daniel Tales in their Aramaic Literary Milieu.” Pages 249−65 in The Book of Daniel in the Light of New Findings. Edited by A.S. van der Woude. BETL 106. Leuven: Peeters, 1993. Reynolds, Bennie H. Between Symbolism and Realism: The Use of Symbolic and NonSymbolic Language in Ancient Jewish Apocalypses 333–63 B.C.E. JAJSup 8. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. Rochberg, Francesca. “If P, then Q: Form, Reasoning and Truth in Babylonian Divination.” Pages 19–26 in Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World. Edited by Amar Annus. OIS 6. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2010. Rowley, H.H. Darius the Mede and the Four World Empires in the Book of Daniel. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1964. Segal, Michael. “Rereading the Writing on the Wall (Daniel 5).” ZAW 125 (2013): 161–76. Starr, Ivan. The Rituals of the Diviner. BMes 12. Malibu, CA: Undena Publications, 1983. van der Toorn, Karel. Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible. Cambridge, MA; London: Harvard University Press, 2009. Wills, Lawrence M. The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King: Ancient Jewish Court Legends. HDR 26. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1990. Winitzer, Abraham. Early Mesopotamian Divination Literature: Its Organizational Framework and Generative and Paradigmatic Characteristics. AMD 12. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2017. Zell, Michael. Reframing Rembrandt: Jews and the Christian Image in SeventeenthCentury Amsterdam. Berkeley; London: University of California Press, 2002.

Symptoms and Symbols, Prayers and Portents: Diagnostic Physiognomy and the Diviner in the Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242)*∗ Andrew B. Perrin

I. Ailments Divinely Inscribed on the Human Form The Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242) has generated significant discussion and debate for its potential relationship with the versions of Daniel 4 and Babylonian Nabonidus traditions.1 These source- and tradition-historical questions, however, are but a few of the interpretive issues that intersect on the fragmentary text. One item that remains in open discussion is the role of the ‫ גזר‬Nabonidus encountered at Teima. While the semantic study of the term points toward a generic understanding of this figure as a “diviner,” the nature of Nabonidus’ ailment in the tale (i.e., a severe skin affliction) may be an overlooked clue to understanding the profile and proficiencies of this unnamed character. Drawing on the larger textual and cultural heritage of the Qumran Aramaic corpus, traditions from the Hebrew Scriptures, and perspectives from Babylonian divinatory and medicinal manuals, I suggest that this figure may have engaged in a form of physiognomic and therapeutic divination. His task? To interpret the omen of * Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the “Neutestamentliches Kolloquium” at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München and the “Aramaic Science and Qumran” conference convened at Pázmány Péter Catholic University in Budapest. I am grateful to both Prof. Loren Stuckenbruck who hosted my research stay as a Humboldt Fellow in Germany and Prof. Ida Fröhlich who organized an enriching interdisciplinary conference in Hungary. The present research was made possible through funding from both the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and the Alexander von Humboldt Stiftung. Thanks to Matthew Hama and Brian Felushko for their editorial assistance in the final stages of preparing drafts, which was made possible through support of the Canada Research Chair in Religious Identities of Ancient Judaism. 1 For the most recent review of proposals and bibliography, see Reinhard G. Kratz, “Nabonid in Qumran,” in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident, ed. Eva CancikKirschbaum, Margarete van Ess, and Joachim Marzahn, Topoi: Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 1 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011), 253–70.

44

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the sickness manifested on the king’s body as a symptom of cultic waywardness and to prescribe a course of action for repentance. The following study journeys through three waypoints. First, I will briefly review the discovery, significance, and content of the Prayer of Nabonidus. Second, I will call attention to some of the problems in past research as they relate to the role and identity of the ‫גזר‬. Third, I will develop a fresh interpretive framework based on indicators internal to the Qumran text and informed by external perspectives on the observation of omens in ancient Near Eastern physiognomic and medicinal traditions.

II. The Short Story of the Prayer of Nabonidus The 1950s were good years for the neo-Babylonian king Nabonidus. The discovery of three stelae engraved at the Great Mosque in Harran in 1956 revealed Nabonidus’s first-person perspective on his lengthy and controversial absence from Babylon and provided an explanation of his activities at Teima.2 A few years prior, another lost Nabonidus tradition was found at a different site: Qumran Cave Four. By 1955, scroll fragments from the trove first discovered and accessed by the Ta’amireh Bedouin made their way into the hands of early members of the Dead Sea Scrolls publication team. Among these tattered bits were copies of several key Aramaic writings, most of which remained unknown until their modern recovery. The Prayer of Nabonidus was one of the first of these to move from the shadows of Cave Four to preliminary publication. In a 1956 article in Revue biblique, Milik presented plates, transcriptions, translations, and preliminary notes of four fragments of the text.3 In 1962, Meyer published a small additional fragment (now known as 4Q242 2b) mentioned by Milik in an addendum to his earlier study.4 Forty years after Milik’s preliminary edition, and in light of several other re-presentations of the text, Collins completed the full

2 C.J. Gadd, “The Harran Inscriptions of Nabonidus,” AnSt 8 (1958): 35–92. According to Beaulieu’s catalogue, Paul-Alain Beaulieu, The Reign of Nabonidus, King of Babylon (556–539 BCE), YNER 10 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 1–42 the tally of Nabonidus inscriptions, including those from Harran, is no less than twenty-seven. The majority commemorate his restorations of religious sites across the empire. 3 Józef T. Milik, “‘Prière de Nabonide’ et autres écrits d’un cycle de Daniel,” RB 63 (1956): 407–15. In this same year, Avigad and Yadin published their edition of the then known materials of the Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20), which were recovered from Qumran Cave One in 1947: Nahman Avigad and Yigael Yadin, A Genesis Apocryphon: A Scroll from the Wilderness of Judea (Jerusalem: Magnes Press; Heikhal Ha-Sefer, 1956). 4 Rudolf Meyer, Das Gebet des Nabonid: Eine in den Qumran-Handschriften wiederentdeckte Weisheitserzählung (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1962), 16.

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45

and critical English edition of Prayer of Nabonidus in DJD XXII.5 The most recent chapter of the publication history and preservation of the Prayer of Nabonidus materials includes the online and open-access images available through the Leon Levy Digital Dead Sea Scrolls Library.6 Prayer of Nabonidus is written in a semi-cursive hand that resembles scripts from ca. 75–50 BCE.7 The compositional date of the work is technically unknown and, in part, involves untangling a web of questions regarding its relationship to other biblical and Babylonian traditions. As Stuckenbruck described, the Prayer of Nabonidus is certainly earlier than the reworking of Nabonidus lore in the book of Daniel, which came together in its HebrewAramaic form in the mid-160s BCE.8 How much earlier is difficult to discern. Newsom underscored that the propagandistic quality of the Prayer of Nabonidus makes the most sense if it came from a time and place where the Jewish memory of this ruler remained active.9 In this way, the Prayer of Nabonidus, or the traditions behind it, may originate centuries earlier, perhaps even in the late Persian period. If this is the case, the text is arguably the closest kin to Babylonian tradition in the entire Qumran Aramaic corpus and, perhaps, one of the earlier narratives in this cluster. In terms of content, Prayer of Nabonidus contains just enough extant text to confirm the composition’s general contours yet also suffers from several sizable lacunae that leave us in the dark on many sections. Given its brevity, it is possible to present the text here in full.10 5 John J. Collins, “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar,” in George J. Brooke et al., Qumran Cave 4.XVII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 3, DJD XXII (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996), 83–93. For the bibliography of past and partial editions up to this point, see ibid., 83. 6 See, www.deadseascrolls.org.il. This resource includes scans of the PAM plates, taken in 1955 and 1957, as well as a selection of infrared and color images, taken between 2011 and 2015. 7 Collins, “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar,” 85. 8 Loren T. Stuckenbruck, “The Formation and Reformation of Daniel in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Princeton Symposium on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Volume One: Scripture and the Scrolls, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2006), 101–30. On the dating of the biblical book of Daniel, see John J. Collins, A Commentary on the Book of Daniel, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 24–38. 9 Carol A. Newsom, “Why Nabonidus? Excavating Traditions from Qumran, the Hebrew Bible, and Neo-Babylonian Sources,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Transmission of Traditions and Production of Texts, ed. Sarianna Metso, Hindy Najman, and Eileen Schuller, STDJ 92 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 57–79. 10 With slight revision to the English translation, these materials are from Collins, “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar.” While there is room for critique and revision of some aspects of the minor reconstructions presented by Collins, I will not undertake that task here. For the present purposes, what matters most is that our reading ‫ גזר‬in 4Q243 1–3 4 is secure. Against all other editions, Lange and Sieker read the form ‫ גזר‬as ‫( גיר‬that is, “stranger,

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4Q242 1–3

[‫מלכ]א רבא כדי כתיש הוא‬ ֯ ‫ מלי צ]ל[תא די צלי נ̇ ̇בני מלך ]בב[ל‬1 [‫ בשחנא באישא בפתגם ֯א]לה[א בתימן̇ ] אנה נבני בשחנא באישא‬2 [‫ כתיש הוית שנין שבע ומן ]די[ שוי א]להא עלי אנפוהי ואסא לי‬3 [‫והוא יהודי ̇מ]ן בני גלותא על לי ואמר‬ ̇ ‫ וחטאי שבק לה גזר‬4 [‫ור]בו[ לשם א]להא עליא וכן כתבת אנה‬ ֯ ‫ החוי̇ וכתב למעבד יקר‬5 [‫בשחנא ב]אישא[ בתימן ]בפתגם אלהא עליא‬ ̇ ‫ כתיש הוית‬6 [‫ שנין שבע מצלא הוי]ת קדם[ ֯א ̇ל ֯הי֯ כספא ודהבא ]נחשא פרזלא‬7 [ ‫ אעא אבנא חספא מן די ]הוית סב[ר די אלהין ה]מון‬8 [ ]◦[ ]◦‫או] [ד ֯ש ֯ל‬ [ ] ̇‫מיהו̇ ן‬ ֯ [ ]‫ ] [ ֯ת‬9 1 The words of the p[ra]yer which Nabonidus, king of [Baby]lon, [the great] king, prayed [when he was smitten] 2 with a severe inflammation by the decree of G[o]d in Teima. [I, Nabonidus, with a severe inflammation] 3 was smitten for seven years and sin[ce] G[od] set [his face on me, he healed me] 4 and as for my sin, he remitted it. A diviner (he was a Judaean fr[om among the exiles) came to me and said:] 5 “Pro[cla]im and write to give honor and exal[tatio]n to the name of G[od Most High,” and I wrote as follows:] 6 “I was smitten by a sev[ere] inflammation in Teima [by the decree of the Most High God.] 7 For seven years [I] was praying [to] gods of silver and gold, [bronze, iron,] 8 wood, stone, clay, since [I thoug]ht that th[ey were] gods 9 [ ] their[ ] 4Q242 4

‫[ ֯ל ̇בר המון אחלמת‬ [‫אח]ל[ ֯ף ֯ש ֯ל ̇ם של]ותי יתוב עלי‬ ֯ ‫[ ֯מנה‬ [ ] ‫[ ◦ ] [נו רחמי לא יכלת‬ [ ]◦‫[ ֯כמה דמא אנתה ל‬ [ ]◦ ◦◦[

]1 ]2 ]3 ]4 ]5

wanderer”), Armin Lange and Marion Sieker, “Gattung und Quellenwert des Gebets des Nabonid,” in Qumranstudien: Vorträge und Beiträge der Teilnehmer des Qumranseminars auf dem internationalen Treffen der Society of Biblical Literature, Münster, 25.–26. Juli 1993, ed. Heinz-Josef Fabry, Armin Lange, and Hermann Lichtenberger, Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum 4 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996). This is most certainly a misreading. The zayin differs from both waw and yod in this hand in that it lacks an upper arrow-like arch.

Symptoms and Symbols, Prayers and Portents

1[ 2[ 3[ 4[ 5[

47

] apart from them. I was made strong again ] from it he caused to pass. The peace of [my] repo[se returned to me] ] my friends. I was not able [ ] ] how you are like [ ] ]…[ ]

As with many finds among the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls, the interpretation of the Prayer of Nabonidus is a delicate balance between limited content and incomplete context. Often we are reading-in-between-the-lines or, more often still, trying to read where no lines have survived at all. As such, any interpretation of the duties of the ‫ גזר‬is speculative. The only certain activity of this individual in the text is his call for the king both to ascribe and inscribe glory to God. But is it possible that this ‫ גזר‬did more in now lost scenes of the narrative?

III. A Negative Profile of the ‫ גזר‬in Prayer of Nabonidus In many ways, the interpretation of the text hangs on the identity, actions, and agency of the ‫גזר‬. The history of research on the Prayer of Nabonidus attests to diverse understandings of the role and function of this figure. Among the many titles proposed in studies and translations, our ‫ גזר‬has been rendered a “diviner,”11 “exorcist,”12 “prophet,”13 “seer,”14 “fortune teller,”15 and “con-

11 Milik, “‘Prière de Nabonide’,” 408; Bastiaan Jongeling, C.J. Labuschagne, and Adam S. van der Woude, Aramaic Texts from Qumran: With Translations and Annotations, SSS 4 (Leiden: Brill, 1976), 129; Émile Puech, “La prière de Nabonide (4Q242),” in Targumic and Cognate Studies: Essays in Honour of Martin McNamara, ed. Kevin J. Cathcart and Michael Maher, JSOTSup 230 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 208–27, esp. 121; Collins, “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar,” 89. 12 André Dupont-Sommer, “Exorcismes et guérisons dans les écrits de Qoumrân,” in Congress Volume: Oxford 1959, VTSup 7 (Leiden: Brill, 1960), 246–61, esp. 254; Joseph A. Fitzmyer and Daniel J. Harrington, A Manual of Palestinian Aramaic Texts: Second Century B.C.–Second Century A.D. (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1978), 2; Florentino García Martínez, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran, STDJ 9 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 120. 13 Adam S. van der Woude, “Bemerkungen zum Gebet des Nabonid,” in Qumrân: Sa piété, sa théologie, son milieu, ed. Mathias Delcor, BETL 46 (Gembloux: Duculot, 1978), 120–29, esp. 122. 14 Werner Dommershausen, Nabonid im Buche Daniel (Mainz: Matthias Grünewald, 1964), 70. 15 Klaus Beyer, Die aramäischen Texte vom Toten Meer: Samt den Inschriften aus Palästina, dem Testament Levis aus der Kairoer Genisa, der Fastenrolle und den alten talmudischen Zitaten. Band II (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 139.

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jurer.”16 Precisely what he exorcises, divines, prophesies, sees, tells, or conjures, however, is a matter of debate. In this way, part of the task of building a new case for what the ‫ גזר‬might be doing involves deconstructing some prior proposals to say what he is unlikely doing. 1. The Figure Is Not (Directly) Forgiving Sins The syntax of 4Q242 1–3 4 is difficult, not least due to the loss of the first part of the clause at the end of the previous line. Even with this contextual shortcoming, it is unlikely that the diviner is the primary agent forgiving sins, as Cross and Grelot advocated.17 Syntactically, the verb ‫ שׁבק‬is referring to the sin of Nabonidus. Theologically, however, it is difficult to justify the ‫גזר‬ as the subject of this verb. As many have noted, there is limited precedent for direct human agency in the remission of sins in Jewish literature of this era prior to the Gospels (Matt 9:2; Mark 2:5; Luke 5:20), and even the agency in those occurrences is contested.18 For these reasons, the subject of the verb ‫ שׁבק‬is most likely God, plausibly referenced in 4Q243 1–3 3. This makes our ‫גזר‬, at most, a mediator. 2. The Figure is Not Exorcising a Demon The world of the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls is one populated by angels and demons. Just ask Sarah’s seven murdered husbands in the book of Tobit! The question in the present text, however, is whether Nabonidus’s malady is due to a demonic affliction. Dupont-Sommer is the main advocate of this perspective.19 His argument, however, was deduced largely by analogy with a proposed parallel in the Genesis Apocryphon, where Pharaoh Zoan’s house comes down with a divinely sent “evil spirit” (‫( )רוח באישא‬1Q20 XX, 17, 28– 29). The episode concludes with Abram’s apotropaic intervention to dispel the demon before the first couple exits Egypt unscathed. Puech underscored the problem with this proposed parallel: there are no demons lurking in the extant text of Prayer of Nabonidus.20 In Prayer of Nabonidus, the affliction is not explicitly demonic. Rather, 4Q243 1–3 2, 6 states the king suffered from 16

Mathias Delcor, “Le Testament de Job, la prière de Nabonide et les traditions targoumiques,” in Bibel und Qumran: Beiträge zur Erforschung der Beziehungen zwischen Bibel- und Qumranwissenschaft. Hans Bardtke zum 22.9.1966, ed. Siegfried Wagner (Berlin: Evangelische Haupt-Bibelgesellschaft, 1968), 57–74, esp. 61. 17 Pierre Grelot, “La prière de Nabonide (4Q Or Nab): Nouvel essai de restauration,” RevQ 9/36 (1978): 483–95. Frank Moore Cross, “Fragments of the Prayer of Nabonidus,” IEJ 34 (1984): 260–64. 18 See especially the discussion and bibliography on this point in García Martínez, Qumran and Apocalyptic, 120; and Collins, “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar,” 91–92. 19 Dupont-Sommer, “Exorcismes.” 20 Puech, “La prière de Nabonide (4Q242),” 218.

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a “severe inflammation” (‫)שחנא באישא‬, which indicates a physical ailment is the focal point of the plot. 3. The Figure Is Not (Likely) Daniel The name of the ‫ גזר‬is not retained in the surviving materials of Prayer of Nabonidus. We know only that he was a “Judaean” (‫( )יהודי‬4Q243 1–3 4). Some have ventured beyond this meager evidence to conclude that the ‫גזר‬ was none other than Daniel himself.21 Although we cannot be sure of the name of this diviner – or if he was named at all in the full narrative – concluding that the ‫ גזר‬was Daniel based on thematic similarities to the biblical book is more than these fragmentary finds can bear. We would be wise to recall that Prayer of Nabonidus, the Harran Inscription, and Daniel 4 are, at their core, traditions oriented around a neoBabylonian king.22 It was only when a clever and creative scribe of the Aramaic court tales of Daniel developed one part of this tradition that the material became Danielic. As Milik already noted in his preliminary publication, the naming of Daniel as the central stage of the story seems to be part of the amplification of a tale that occurs at the level of redaction in the biblical book.23 Similarly, in the resultant biblical episode in Daniel 4, Nabonidus becomes the more (in)famous Nebuchadnezzar and the backwater town of Teima becomes the imperial capital. Just like any fishing story, as the tradition grows, so do the details: bigger, better, bolder. In this light, the ‫גזר‬ in Prayer of Nabonidus is likely only a supporting actor in a plot centered on the abasement and acknowledgement of God by a pagan king. 4. The Figure Is Not Healing an Animalized Nabonidus In addition to foisting the figure of Daniel on the cast of Prayer of Nabonidus, some reconstructions also instill the Qumran Aramaic text with a parallel plotline featuring Nabonidus’s physical, mental, or metaphorical animalization in the spirit of Daniel 4. For Jongeling, Labuschagne, and van der Woude, for example, this reconstructed element was so pervasive that it became the common denominator for both texts. They wrote: “If one reads in line 3 ‘and so I became like the animals’, there is no reason to suppose that the 4QOr[atio]Nab tradition differs significantly from that of Daniel 4.”24 The 21

Dupont-Sommer, “Exorcismes,” 255. Carol A. Newsom, “Now You See Him, Now You Don’t: Nabonidus in Jewish Memory,” in Remembering Biblical Figures in the Late Persian and Hellenistic Periods, ed. Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 270–82. 23 Milik, “‘Prière de Nabonide,’” 410. 24 Jongeling, Labuschagne, and van der Woude, Aramaic Texts from Qumran, 123. Others advocating for some version of Nabonidus’s animalization or the deployment of that metaphor include: Meyer, Das Gebet des Nabonid; Cross, “Fragments of the Prayer of 22

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problem, however, is that there is no hint of animal imagery anywhere in the extant text which, otherwise, does differ significantly from the biblical episode. Collins was correct to note that, to a certain degree, reconstructions of the fragmentary Aramaic text depend on how one configures the traditionor source-critical relationship with versions of Daniel 4.25 However, it is methodologically unsound to allow the content, structure, and themes of one text to govern the other. This risks the integrity of both writings and borders on producing textual clones through reconstructions.

IV. Toward a New Job Description for the ‫גזר‬ in Prayer of Nabonidus So now that we know what the ‫ גזר‬was not doing, what was he up to at Teima? We cannot say for sure. But one option worth considering is that this figure was a practitioner of diagnostic physiognomy. To make this case, we will need to recover some philological hints within the Aramaic text itself and then explore the divinatory and medical diagnostic traditions both at Qumran and in Babylonian tradition. 1. A Lexical and Contextual Analysis of Divinatory Terms within Prayer of Nabonidus Dupont-Sommer commented that “Le sense de ‘devin’ pour le mot GZR (gâzir) est très incertain.”26 I could not agree more. This ambiguity is due to both limited context and limited lexical data. The occurrence in 4Q243 1–3 4 is a hapax legomenon in the Qumran Aramaic corpus.27 If we extend our Nabonidus,” 263–64; Puech, “La prière de Nabonide (4Q242),” 211, 216; Lawrence M. Wills, The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King: Ancient Jewish Court Legends, HDR 26 (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1990), 91. Van der Woude, “Bemerkungen zum Gebet des Nabonid,” 124 subsequently noted that the fragmentary evidence neither demands nor denies the presence of this theme. 25 Collins, “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar,” 86. He emphasized in his notes that, “There is nothing in the surviving fragments of 4QPrNab to suggest the text ever mentioned a beast” (ibid., 90). 26 Dupont-Sommer, “Exorcismes,” 256. More recently, Ann Jeffers, Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria, SHANE 8 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 31 noted that the limited lexical and comparative context for the term ‫ גזרין‬in Daniel means “[w]e are left very much in the dark as to what function they really perform.” 27 Edward M. Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 44 notes a potential second occurrence with the form ‫ ̊ג זר̇יה‬in 4Q532 1 i 8, but the form and context there are uncertain. Given the interpretive crux of this term for Prayer of Nabonidus, it is surprising that there is no entry for ‫ גזר‬in Heinz-Joseph Fabry and Ulrich Dahmen, eds., Theologisches Wörterbuch zu den Qumrantexten. Band I (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2011).

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understanding of this corpus to include the Aramaic court tales of Daniel, which is, I think, essential in all research on the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls, then our dataset improves in quantity but not necessarily in clarity. Daniel regularly finds himself in the company of, or in contest with, ‫ גזרין‬in the Babylonian court (Dan 2:27; 4:4; 5:7, 11). However, translators and commentaters, from antiquity to today, do not agree on the meaning of the term in the biblical book. In general, lexical studies deduce that the term ‫ גזר‬derives from the root meanings “to cut off” or “to decide” and conclude that its uses in ancient Jewish texts are inextricably linked to divination.28 Lexically or logically, these etymological associations could point to almost any of the prominent ancient practices of divination: reading animal entrails entails a physical dissection, interpreting the skies is a deductive science, and even atomistic dream-vision interpretation involves the segmentation and interpretation of symbols. To varying degrees, these all involve some sort of “cutting” and an equal amount of “deciding.” The lexical study of the term ‫ גזר‬on its own, therefore, is not enough to conclude what form of divination the figure in the Prayer of Nabonidus applied. As noted above, Nabonidus’s malady is a skin affliction that originated “by the decree of G[o]d” (‫)בפתגם א̊]לה[א‬. The text twice describes this veritable seven-year itch as ‫( שחנא באישא‬4Q243 1–3 2, 6), which I have rendered above as a “severe inflammation.”29 The Hebrew Scriptures use the term ‫ שׁחין‬in both narrative traditions and halakhic prescriptions to refer to skin boils.30 Of these biblical occurrences, the scenes of suffering by Job (Job 2:7) and King Hezekiah (2 Kgs 20:7; Isa 38:21) are the most relevant.31 Job’s The most complete lexical study is that of Edward Lipiński, “‫גזר‬,” in Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament. Band IX: Aramäisches Wörterbuch, ed. Holger Gzella (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016), 162–66. Among contemporary Daniel commentaries, Montgomery’s analysis, James A. Montgomery, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Daniel, ICC (New York: T&T Clark, 1926), 163 has stood the test of time, both for its general understanding of the term as referring broadly to “fate determiners” as well as his discussion of various understandings of the term in early translations. Note also the study by Giuseppe Furlani, “Aram. GAZRIN = scongiuratori,” Atti della Accademia nasionale dei Lincei, Classe di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche, serie ottava 4 (1948): 177–96, which was foundational to Dupont-Sommer’s renewed lexical study of the term. However, the problem with his application of Furlani’s findings to the Qumran text is that the data are drawn from Talmudic and Mandaic exorcistic formulae, which postdate the Second Temple traditions of both Prayer of Nabonidus and Daniel. 29 Cook, A Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic, 29–30, 232. 30 See Exod 9:9–11; Lev 13:18–29, 23; Deut 28:27, 35; Job 2:7; 2 Kgs 20:7; Isa 38:21. The noun occurs also in the Cave 11 Job translation, although the rendering there is idiomatic (11Q10 16:2 [Job 30:14]). 31 The terminological parallel between the description of the ailment in Prayer of Nabonidus and these traditions is widely recognized in the history of research. See, for 28

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family and friends perceive this affliction as relating to his cultic standing (Job 2:9–12). For Hezekiah, the significance is not in the origins of the ailment, but in its remedy: the prophet Isaiah prescribes a sort of medicinal fig jam to affect the divinely approved healing.32 These traditions may provide a partial referential background for Nabonidus’s affliction. The final term in Prayer of Nabonidus relevant here is ‫ אחלמת‬in 4Q243 4 1. While Milik and Meyer both understood this form as coming from the ‫חלם‬, meaning “to dream,” it more likely derives from another root meaning, “to be well” (cf. 1Q20 XXII, 5).33 In view of this, Cook proposed rendering the phrase in Prayer of Nabonidus as, “I was healed without them” (that is, apart from the idols the king petitioned previously).34 This phrase, then, must refer to the restoration of health from the seven-year skin disease. Delcor pointed in this direction by noting the linkage between Nabonidus’s misguided prayers to idols, his inflammation, and the ‫גזר‬.35 Since the separation between physical disease and spiritual standing is a modern one, there must also be a connection between the remedy of Nabonidus’s physical condition and the remission of sins mentioned earlier in the text (4Q243 1–3 4). If these three elements are central to the narrative – the ‫ גזר‬terminology, the description of the disease, and notation of physical restoration – then we should expect they are likewise central to the interaction between Nabonidus and the diviner. The question is: how? Kratz is no doubt correct that the extant materials do not include reference to an exorcistic or divinatory act.36 However, is it possible that the extant text has retained an element that could example, Milik, “‘Prière de Nabonide,’” 410; Dupont-Sommer, “Excorcismes,” 255; and Delcor, “Le Testament de Job,” 63. 32 As Newsom observed, Prayer of Nabonidus is “somewhat reminiscent of the account in Isa 38 of Hezekiah’s illness, healing, and thanksgiving,” see Newsom, “Now You See Him!,” 279; see also, eadem, “Why Nabonidus?,” 79. I would argue this similarity extends further. In both cases, the illness is skin “boils” (‫[ שׁחין‬Isa 38:21; 4Q243 1–3 2, 6]), the healing is brokered by a diviner in the court (Isaiah the prophet or our nameless ‫)גזר‬, and the thanksgiving is expressed as a prayer committed to writing after the recovery of the monarch (Isa 38:9; 4Q243 1–3 1). 33 For philological discussion on this point in the history of research, see Collins’ commentary in “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar,” 92–93. In my past work, I too tended to think that this feature and others suggested Prayer of Nabonidus was a possible dream-vision text, see Andrew B. Perrin, The Dynamics of Dream-Vision Revelation in the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls, JAJSup 19 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 74–76. However, I am now less convinced of the necessity of that form of revelation or divination in the narrative as far as we can know it from the extant materials. The recent presentation of the text by Kratz, “Nabonid in Qumran,” 260 perhaps best captures the uncertainty of the form as he includes all options in translation. 34 Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic, 85. 35 Delcor, “Le Testament de Job,” 61. 36 Kratz, “Nabonid in Qumran,” 267.

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be a vehicle for an omen? That is, the object of the diviner’s interpretation may have been present all along, literally written on the king’s boil-laden body as both a symptom and symbol. 2. Physiognomic Practices and Perspectives: Babylon and Qumran For all the references to, and regulation of, divination in the Hebrew Scriptures, physiognomy did not register in the traditions that have come down to us.37 In view of this silence in Israelite tradition, should we expect an ancient Jewish scribe to cast a diviner, a “Judaean” no less, as dabbling in the craft of physiognomy? That all depends on what perspectives on this form of divination we can recover from both contemporary Jewish literature and antecedent traditions that may have contributed to a larger historical-cultural awareness of the practice. In her now classic 1969 study, “Physiognomy in the Ancient World,” Evans observed a widespread “physiognomic consciousness,” as ancient writers, philosophers, musicians, artists, poets, doctors, etc., in various ways understood the relation between the form and marks of a physical body and one’s character.38 While the practice plays out with some variation across cultures, Alexander captured the general foundations of physiognomy as follows: Physiognomy, a respected scientific discipline in the ancient world, is based on the premise that human psychology and physiology are intimately linked … Physiognomy makes the more radical claim that the dominant characteristics of the inner person – the mental, spiritual and moral qualities of the soul – are permanently registered on the physical body. It is possible, therefore, for the trained observer to deduce a person’s character from his or her outward appearance. Physiognomy is first and foremost a divinatory science. It marks one of the earliest attempts to create a scientific psychology based on observation.39

Modern research on divination has underscored the scientific quality of the craft across ancient cultures. Regarding ancient Near Eastern traditions, Geller noted that the collection, collation, analysis, and interpretation of data originating in observation of natural phenomena indicates that divination “must be seen as a process resembling certain aspects of scientific think37

Perhaps the most relevant content is in Lev 21:16–7, which includes materials for the disqualification of priests due to physical ailments or infirmity. While his study lacks in some key areas, for an introduction to the topic, see Frederick H. Cryer, Divination in Ancient Israel and Its Ancient Near Eastern Environment: A Socio-Historical Investigation (New York: T&T Clark, 2010). 38 Elizabeth C. Evans, Physiognomics in the Ancient World, TAPS 59/5 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1969), esp. 6. 39 Philip S. Alexander, “Physiognomy, Initiation, and Rank in the Qumran Community,“ in Geschichte – Tradition – Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel zum 70. Geburtstag. Volume 1: Judentum, ed. Peter Schäfer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 385–94, esp. 385–86.

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ing.”40 This judgment is certainly true of the physiognomic cuneiform literature of the 1st millennium BCE, such as the Alandimmû. This physiognomic handbook was arranged and edited by the 11th century BCE exorcist-courtier Esagil-kīn-apli. The work’s twenty-seven chapters relate to the physical appearance of male anatomy, female physiognomy, birthmarks, and twitches.41 Formally, these materials proceed as omen texts with paired protases and apodoses. The first element catalogues a physical feature or human behavior, the second associates it with a predictive character quality or destiny of the individual. The following few excerpts from Alandimmû give a sense of its content and structure.42 If there is a mole on the dividing line of his forehead: he will not escape from the hard times which will seize him. If there is a mole to the right of his eyebrow: what his minds is set on, he will not attain. If there is a mole to the left of his eyebrow: what his mind is set on, he will attain.

If the writers of the Hebrew Scriptures were incognizant (or uninterested) in this form of divination, the scribes of some of the Qumran Aramaic texts were wide-awake and attuned to it. Physiognomy features in both literary and non-literary materials. The so-called Birth of Noah texts (4Q534–536) describe miraculous physical features of a newborn, which may relate to a similarly extraordinary account of Noah’s birth in 1 Enoch 106.43 The poetic description of Sarai in Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20 XX, 2–8) is also of relevance here, though in that text the description of bodily features is not divinatory. On the non-literary side of things, 4QHoroscope (4Q186) and 4QPhysiognomy (4Q561) contain ordered descriptions of elements of the human body.44 40 Markham J. Geller, Ancient Babylonian Medicine: Theory and Practice (New York: Wiley & Sons, 2010), 39. 41 Barbara Böck, “Physiognomy in Ancient Mesopotamia and Beyond: From Practice to Handbook,” in Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World, ed. Amar Annus, OIS 6 (Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2010), 199–224, esp. 200. See also the synopsis of the Alamdimmû in Francesca Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 87–88. 42 The English translations here are from Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing, 87. See also Barbara Böck, Die babylonisch-assyrische Morphoskopie, AfOB 27 (Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2000). 43 For a helpful evaluation of these texts, see Jeremy Penner, “Is 4Q534–536 Really About Noah?,” in Noah and His Book(s), ed. Michael E. Stone, Aryeh Amihay, and Vered Hillel, EJL 28 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2010), 97–112; and Loren T. Stuckenbruck, 1 Enoch 91–108, CEJL (Berlin; New York: De Gruyter, 2007), 606–77. 44 The relevant editions (and revisions) of these are found in John M. Allegro, “4Q186,” in idem, Qumran Cave 4.I (4Q158–4Q186), DJD V (Oxford: Clarendon, 1968), 88–91; John Strugnell, “Notes en marge du volume V des ‘Discoveries in the Judaean Desert of

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Studies on these materials, particularly 4QHoroscope and 4QPhysiognomy, have rightly noted the formal correspondence between the Babylonian craft of physiognomy and its expressions at Qumran.45 In view of such resemblances, Geller concluded that the physiognomic knowledge of the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls is based on an Akkadian prototypical genre.46 The degree of relation, however, is unlikely that direct. Popović recognized the likely influence of the Babylonian physiognomic tradition on the knowledge of the Aramaic scrolls but cautioned that, Jewish culture in Palestine during the Hellenistic-Early Roman period was not influenced either from the East or from the West. It was not a matter of either/or, but rather, at times, of both. The important point is to compare the Qumran physiognomic texts with both traditions and not to exclude one beforehand on the basis of a presumed influence from the other.47

In this way, it is perhaps better to speak of a broadly defined awareness of Babylonian divinatory practices at Qumran (e.g., astronomy, brontology, dream-visions, physiognomy) than to emphasize an undefined and uniform influence by Babylonian tradition on the scribes of the Aramaic texts. But does this awareness of physiognomy provide any clarity to the physical affliction described in Prayer of Nabonidus? Yes and no. The scribes of the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls seem to be participating in, and contributing to, ancient physiognomic knowledge known from cultures to both east and west. However, physiognomic omens across these – including Qumran – generally focus on naturally occurring phenomena. The shape of a body part, the location of a mole, the texture of the skin, even the sound of the voice Jordan,’” RevQ 7/26 (1970): 163–276, esp. 274–76; Émile Puech, “4QHoroscope ar,” in idem, Qumrân Grotte 4.XXVII: Textes araméens, deuxième partie: 4Q550–4Q575a, 4Q580–4Q587, DJD XXXVII (Oxford: Clarendon, 2009), 303–21. For an independent presentation and treatment of both texts, see Mladen Popović, Reading the Human Body: Physiognomics and Astrology in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Hellenistic-Early Roman Period Judaism, STDJ 67 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 17–67. 45 Armin Lange, “The Essene Position on Magic and Divination,” in Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies Cambridge 1995, Published in Honour of Joseph M. Baumgarten, ed. Moshe Bernstein, Florentino García Martínez, and John Kampen, STDJ 23 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 377–435 emphasized the formal correspondence to the Babylonian traditions in particular, but noted that the larger frame of reference must also take into account the Hellenistic physiognomic materials. 46 Mark Geller, “New Documents from the Dead Sea: Babylonian Science in Aramaic,” in Boundaries of the Ancient Near Eastern World: A Tribute to Cyrus H. Gordon, ed. Meir Lubetski, Claire G. Gottlieb, and Sharon Keller, JSOTSup 273 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 224–29 (229). 47 Popović, Reading the Human Body, 111–12. On the larger cultural matrix of the Qumran Aramaic texts, see also the contribution of Jonathan Ben-Dov in this volume (below, pp. 111–130).

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could all signify something about the individual embodying the omen. Nabonidus’s “severe inflammation,” however, is an illness. In this way, the ‫ גזר‬is unlikely practicing a form of physiognomic craft similar to that of the Alandimmû, 4QHoroscope, or 4QPhysiognomy. To qualify his act of divination based on an illness, we must explore one final area of ancient science that bridges omen interpretation of bodily effects with medical diagnoses. 3. The Ominous Nature of Illness: Divination and Diagnoses in Mesopotamian Traditions While divination took many forms in the ancient world, physiognomic omens of naturally occurring phenomena were not the only means of discerning divine communication through the human form. In some ancient Babylonian medical treatises, diseases, physical ailments, and symptoms are evaluated for both their divine causes and prognoses.48 There are, of course, many challenges in navigating these materials to ascertain both the nature of practices and their associations with classes of practitioners. Ancient Near Eastern diviners went by a number of professional titles, most often associated with specific areas of expertise or craft. As Popović noted, in general, the “different forms of Babylonian divination were the domains of different types of scholars,” not least the bārû (“haruspex”) and āšipu (“magician-exorcist”), with physiognomy most closely associated with the latter.49 As Drawnel described, the Babylonian āšipu were temple professionals with a command over magic, medicine, ritual, mathematics, and astrology.50 Given the focus of physiognomy on the human body, however, it seems only reasonable to extend the scope of the discussion to include the

48 Here, of course, it is necessary to give a well-deserved nod to the equally diverse and essential Greek traditions for medical treatments. Note, for example, the therapeutic prognoses in Hippocratic materials and the writings of Galen, which in many ways bridge observation of good or bad signs on the body with prognoses. On this, see now Marion Christina Hauck, DYNAMIS EIS SOTERIAN: Eine Untersuchung zum semantischen Hintergrund eines neutestamentlichen Syntagmas, WMANT 154 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2018). While the present study focused largely on the potential interface between the Qumran Aramaic texts and Mesopotamian traditions at the level of composition, the Hellenistic cultural context is also significant for exploring how topics, texts, practices, etc., in these materials may have been understood or appropriated by receiving communities. In this way, the question of cultural interaction is not only relevant to the inception of a work but also to exploring the meanings that might be attached to it due to changing cultural settings in the transmission and reception processes. 49 Popović, Reading the Human Body, 76–77, esp. n. 33 for additional bibliography supporting this determination. 50 Henryk Drawnel, “Professional Skills of Asael (1 En. 8:1) and their Mesopotamian Background,” RB 119 (2012): 518–42.

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therapeutic office of the asû.51 As Scurlock argued, when the office of the asû is included, it is difficult to maintain a rigid distinction between physicians and diviners. [T]he notion that there existed a separate etiology of disease based on ‘natural’ causes and falling under the purview of the asû is simply untenable. It is, in any case, hardly imaginable that two professional specialties that genuinely differed to the extreme of attributing diseases exclusively to ‘natural’ or ‘supernatural’ causes and which allegedly utilized different procedures, and even a different market basket of materia medica, could have been on the same side of the law, let alone have not merely cooperated but actually made a practice of borrowing each others’ prescriptions as we know the asû and āšipu to have done. … If we cannot separate asû and āšipu, it is because we are looking for binary opposites where there are not any.52

One of the clearest places we find this overlap of proficiencies is in recovered letter correspondence penned by one Marduk-šāpik-zēri to Assurbanipal.53 While Marduk-šāpik-zēri proclaims his principal area of expertise in astrology, he presents the rest of his qualifications based on learning from treatises on a variety of other divinatory approaches, including the examination of “healthy and sick flesh.” In view of this, Rochberg noted that, at least for this particular ancient diviner, “celestial divination belonged within a broader field of knowledge that included terrestrial, physiognomic, and anomalous birth omens, as well as medicine.”54 In terms of professional profiles, then, practices of divination and diagnoses intersect in some areas. Two key Babylonian sources relevant to the discussion on Prayer of Nabonidus also sit at this intersection. The first is the Multābiltu, which is a series of commentaries on highly specialized omen hermeneutics from the 1st millennium BCE.55 While the majority of the surviving text is concerned with divination proper, tablet VII includes a series of omens dedicated to divination performed on behalf of a sick patient. As Geller summarized, the task of the diviner here “was to determine whether the disease was indeed caused by the ‘Hand of God,’ or to determine precisely which god had brought the disease. In any case, this omen is predictive and not therapeutic,

51

Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20) XX, 19–20 references the Aramaic equivalents of these titles as members of the Egyptian court. While Bhayro and Burberry argue in this volume that these terms hint at the Genesis Apocryphon’s eastern provenance, they more likely indicate a generic cultural heritage of such divinatory and therapeutic terms. 52 JoAnn Scurlock, “Physician, Exorcist, Conjurer, Magician: A Tale of Two Healing Professionals,” in Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical, and Interpretive Perspectives, ed. Tzvi Abusch and Karel van der Toorn, AMD 1 (Groningen: Styx, 1999), 76. 53 Simo Parpola, Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars, SAA 10 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1993), 122. 54 Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing, 5. 55 Geller, Ancient Babylonian Medicine, 40–41.

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and the result will be that the patient will live or die according to his destiny decided by the gods.”56 The following excerpts illustrate this structure: If etc. [= you perform the extispicy] and in the base of the Presence a piece of flesh has moved out of place: A curse will seize the patient and he will die. If etc. [= you perform the extispicy] and the left foot is missing, the x and the left Seat of the Path are there: The hand of Marduk, … evil will strike that patient and [he will die]. If you perform (the extispicy) concerning the hand of god: He will live until the appointed day, i.e. he [will die] only after the stipulated term after his time is up.57

In these few samples of the Multābiltu, there is a clear connection between a divinatory act, a diagnosis of the illness attributed to a deity, and a prognosis. There is also a definite sense that the symptom and sickness are understood as the primary omen that may be unlocked by a divinatory rite. The second source is the forty tablet series of the SA.GIG, also known as the Diagnostic Handbook, a Babylonian medical treatise dated to the mid11th century BCE.58 For Geller, the SA.GIG and the sub-series of the Alandimmû formed the basis of the āšipu’s diagnostic and divinatory craft.59 The SA.GIG opens with the incipit, “when the magician [āšipu] goes to the house of a sick person,” and proceeds with a short series of terrestrial omens before transitioning to sections on diagnoses of physical ailments. The following excerpts illustrate these patterns: If he turns his neck constantly to the left, his hands and feet are stretched out, his eyes are open towards the sky, saliva flows from his mouth and he makes a croaking sound and he does not know himself; he still collapses: epilepsy, the hand of Sin. If his neck hurts him and he is always wanting water: “hand of Ištar,” he is stricken on his neck, he will die. If his neck throbs, his head constantly droops, his hand and feet become swollen and he rubs them against the ground: the female demon has seized him.60 56

Ibid., 51. These samples are drawn from Ulla Susanne Koch, Secrets of Extispicy: The Chapter Multābiltu of the Babylonian Extispicy Series and Niṣirti Bārûti Texts Mainly from Aššurbanipal's Library, AOAT 326 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005), 155–57. 58 For the composition and transmission of this tradition, see Nils P. Heeßel, “Diagnosis, Divination and Disease: Towards an Understanding of the Rationale behind the Babylonian Diagnostic Handbook,” in Magic and Rationality in Ancient Near Eastern and Graeco-Roman Medicine, ed. Herman F.J. Horstmanshoff and Marten Stol, Studies in Ancient Medicine 27 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004), 97–116. 59 Geller, Ancient Babylonian Medicine, 93–96. 60 Translations drawn from Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing, 92, based on René Labat, Traité akkadien de diagnostics et pronostics médicaux. Volume I: Transcription et traduction, Collection de Travaux de l’Académie Internationale d’Histoire des Sciences 7 (Leiden: Brill, 1951), pl. XIX = SA.GIG Tablet 10:1–9. Note also that the thirty-third tablet of the SA.GIG deals predominantly with skin ailments. 57

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While the Multābiltu involved a divinatory ritual to ascertain the nature of the patient’s illness, in these examples the SA.GIG pairs a description of a physical affliction with a statement of its divine or demonic cause and the inevitable outcome of the condition. The line between diagnostic prognosis and a divinatory protasis is blurry at best. Yet both areas of expertise were part of the āšipu’s profile. The two above texts reveal a different sort of divinatory craft that read the human body. These traditions did not focus on naturally occurring phenomena, but illnesses, afflictions, and diseases. As Scurlock and Anderson noted in their catalogue of ancient Mesopotamian diagnoses and descriptions of ailments, of all the forms an illness could take, “[t]he number and variety of signs and symptoms relating to the skin they described exceed those assigned to any other organ.”61 Therefore, if one’s illness was suspected to be a sign from a deity, the skin might be the first place to look.62 Where this connection becomes particularly relevant for Nabonidus traditions is the profile of the god Sin. As Ackerman observed, Sin had a strong association with causing and curing skin disease. In view of a collection of references from Babylonian traditions of the 1st millennium BCE, she adduced that, “Sin is the god who inflicts festering sores and the like on those who displease him, and the god who cures those who are devoted to him of these inflammatory skin ailments.”63

61

JoAnn Scurlock and Burton R. Anderson, Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian Medicine: Ancient Sources, Translations, and Modern Medical Analyses (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2005), 208. 62 While there is ample evidence of an awareness of physiognomic divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls, there is less so for diagnostic-physiognomy. It is possible that select Cave Four fragments of the Damascus Document include glimpses of such an application in a halakhic section relating to skin diseases. 4Q272 1 i 2 (cf. 4Q266 6 i; 4Q269 7; 4Q273 4 ii) mentions [‫“( הרו֯ ]ח‬the spirit”), which seems to be the cause of a ringworm-like skin condition. Baumgarten commented that this spirit “causes the blood in the arteries to recede upwards and downwards (line 3) and makes the hair turn yellow (lines 14–15). Conversely, the spirit of life is associated with the return of normal blood flow to the arteries,” see Joseph M. Baumgarten, “The 4Q Zadokite Fragments on Skin Disease,” JJS 41 (1990): 153–65, here 162. In view of this, Lange, “The Essene Position,” 412 inferred that the Essenes may have understood the dominion of such illnesses as belonging to or originating with Belial. 63 Susan Ackerman, “The Prayer of Nabonidus, Elijah on Mount Carmel, and the Development of Monotheism,” in The Echoes of Many Texts: Reflections on Jewish and Christian Traditions. Essays in Honor of Lou H. Silberman, ed. William G. Dever and J. Edward Wright (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1997), 51–65, here 58.

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V. Interpretive Implications for the Aramaic Prayer of Nabonidus Ultimately, the profile and tasks of the ‫ גזר‬in Prayer of Nabonidus remain unknown due to the fragmentary nature of the text. Any proposal, including the one advanced here, deals in degrees of probability. Yet, with the exception of Ackerman, past research has routinely overlooked the relevance of statements on Nabonidus’s bodily affliction and resultant healing. In the extant text, these are the best clues available for theorizing both the lost plot and the divinatory role of the ‫ גזר‬within it. Barring a discovery of another, more complete copy of Prayer of Nabonidus, a textual reconstruction of this proposal would be entirely hypothetical and, I think, not very helpful. However, the comparative contexts for physiognomic knowledge in other Qumran Aramaic texts as well as in antecedent Babylonian diagnostic-divination materials makes it at least possible that the ‫ גזר‬applied such a craft in the lost narrative. In this way, our ‫ גזר‬may have been cast in a role similar to that of a Babylonian āšipu.64 So what was the message written on, and to, Nabonidus? We cannot know for sure. The text only confirms it was sent by God and eventually the king was restored to health. Given that the ‫ גזר‬implored Nabonidus to write a testimony of his restoration of health and remission of sins (4Q243 1–3 5), and that the king himself mentions his misguided worship of false gods (4Q243 1–3 7–8), the omen likely related to his cultic waywardness in idolatry. True to the genre of court-tales, the king learns the error of his ways and insufficiency of the imperial pantheon only once abased and afflicted. In this, the work may also level a strategic and clever critique of the existing lore related to Nabonidus’s residency at Teima. In the Harran inscription, for example, Nabonidus claims his stay in the desert was due to a divine decree from the moon-god Sin in a dream-vision. As noted above, this same deity seemed to be in the business of sending and alleviating skin afflictions. The Qumran Aramaic text, however, turns this all around. In this ironic take on the tale, the only decree sent to Nabonidus was the gift of a terrible itch from the God of Israel. Apparently, this god too was in the business of bringing about boils! In short, Nabonidus heeded a false call by a false god to fortify a temple to idols, only to be stricken by a disease for his sin of 64 It is perhaps relevant that the profile of another prolific Aramaic seer-sage seems to have been informed by that of another Babylonian mantic professional. As VanderKam demonstrated, Enoch “is a Jewish embodiment of Enmeduranki, the Mesopotamian founder of the bārû-diviners,” see James C. Vanderkam, “Mantic Wisdom in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 4 (1993): 336–53, here 337. See also, idem, Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition, CBQMS 16 (Washington, DC: The Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1984), 43–45.

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idolatry, and found himself unable to understand the divine source of the sickness. The only avenue for his remission and remedy was at the diagnostic-divinatory consultation of a humble Judaean ‫ גזר‬who happened to be in the area.

Bibliography Ackerman, Susan. “The Prayer of Nabonidus, Elijah on Mount Carmel, and the Development of Monotheism.” Pages 51–65 in The Echoes of Many Texts: Reflections on Jewish and Christian Traditions: Essays in Honor of Lou H. Silberman. Edited by William G. Dever and J. Edward Wright. Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1997. Alexander, Philip S. “Physiognomy, Initiation, and Rank in the Qumran Community.” Pages 385–94 in Geschichte – Tradition – Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel zum 70. Geburtstag. Volume 1: Judentum. Edited by Peter Schäfer. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996. Allegro, John M. Qumran Cave 4.I (4Q158–4Q186). DJD V. Oxford: Clarendon, 1968. Avigad, Nahman, and Yigael Yadin. A Genesis Apocryphon: A Scroll from the Wilderness of Judea. Jerusalem: Magnes Press; Heikhal Ha-Sefer, 1956. Baumgarten, Joseph M. “The 4Q Zadokite Fragments on Skin Disease.” JJS 41 (1990): 153–65. Beaulieu, Paul-Alain. The Reign of Nabonidus, King of Babylon (556–539 BCE). YNER 10. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Beyer, Klaus. Die aramäischen Texte vom Toten Meer: Samt den Inschriften aus Palästina, dem Testament Levis aus der Kairoer Genisa, der Fastenrolle und den alten talmudischen Zitaten. Band II. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004. Böck, Barbara. Die babylonisch-assyrische Morphoskopie. AfOB 27. Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2000. Böck, Barbara. “Physiognomy in Ancient Mesopotamia and Beyond: From Practice to Handbook.” Pages 199–224 in Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World. Edited by Amar Annus. OIS 6. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2010. Collins, John J. “4QPrayer of Nabonidus ar.” Pages 83–93 in George J. Brooke et al. Qumran Cave 4.XVII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 3. DJD XXII. Oxford: Clarendon, 1996. Collins, John J. Daniel. A Commentary on the Book of Daniel. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993. Cook, Edward M. Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Cross, Frank Moore. “Fragments of the Prayer of Nabonidus.” IEJ 34 (1984): 260–64. Cryer, Frederick H. Divination in Ancient Israel and Its Ancient Near Eastern Environment: A Socio-Historical Investigation. New York: T&T Clark, 2010. Delcor, Mathias. “Le Testament de Job, la prière de Nabonide et les traditions targoumiques.” Pages 57–74 in Bibel und Qumran: Beiträge zur Erforschung der Beziehungen zwischen Bibel- und Qumranwissenschaft. Hans Bardtke zum 22.9.1966. Edited by Siegfried Wagner. Berlin: Evangelische Haupt-Bibelgesellschaft, 1968. Dommershausen, Werner. Nabonid im Buche Daniel. Mainz: Matthias Grünewald, 1964. Drawnel, Henryk. “Professional Skills of Asael (1 En. 8:1) and their Mesopotamian Background.” RB 119 (2012): 518–42.

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Dupont-Sommer, André. “Exorcismes et guérisons dans les écrits de Qoumrân.” Pages 246–61 in Congress Volume: Oxford 1959. VTSup 7. Leiden: Brill, 1960. Evans, Elizabeth C. Physiognomics in the Ancient World. TAPS 59/5. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1969. Fabry, Heinz-Joseph, and Ulrich Dahmen, eds. Theologisches Wörterbuch zu den Qumrantexten. Band I. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2011. Fitzmyer, Joseph A., and Daniel J. Harrington. A Manual of Palestinian Aramaic Texts: Second Century B.C.–Second Century A.D. Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1978. Furlani, Giuseppe. “Aram. GAZRIN = scongiuratori.” Atti della Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, Classe di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche, serie ottava 4 (1948): 177–96. Gadd, C.J. “The Harran Inscriptions of Nabonidus.” AnSt 8 (1958): 35–92. García Martínez, Florentino. Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran. STDJ 9. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Geller, Mark J. “New Documents from the Dead Sea: Babylonian Science in Aramaic.” Pages 224–29 in Boundaries of the Ancient Near Eastern World: A Tribute to Cyrus H. Gordon. Edited by Meir Lubetski, Claire G. Gottlieb, and Sharon Keller. JSOTSup 273. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Geller, Markham J. Ancient Babylonian Medicine: Theory and Practice. New York: Wiley & Sons, 2010. Grelot, Pierre. “La prière de Nabonide (4Q Or Nab): Nouvel essai de restauration.” RevQ 9/36 (1978): 483–95. Hauck, Marion Christina. DYNAMIS EIS SOTERIAN: Eine Untersuchung zum semantischen Hintergrund eines neutestamentlichen Syntagmas. WMANT 154. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2018. Heeßel, Nils P. “Diagnosis, Divination and Disease: Towards an Understanding of the Rationale behind the Babylonian Diagnostic Handbook.” Pages 97–116 in Magic and Rationality in Ancient Near Eastern and Graeco-Roman Medicine. Edited by Herman F.J. Horstmanshoff and Marten Stol. Studies in Ancient Medicine 27. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004. Jeffers, Ann. Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria. SHANE 8. Leiden: Brill, 1996. Jongeling, Bastiaan, C.J. Labuschagne, and Adam S. van der Woude. Aramaic Texts from Qumran: With Translations and Annotations. SSS 4. Leiden: Brill, 1976. Koch, Ulla Susanne. Secrets of Extispicy: The Chapter Multābiltu of the Babylonian Extispicy Series and Niṣirti Bārûti Texts Mainly from Aššurbanipal’s Library. AOAT 326. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005. Kratz, Reinhard G. “Nabonid in Qumran.” Pages 253–70 in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident. Edited by Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Margarete van Ess, and Joachim Marzahn. Topoi. Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 1. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Labat, René. Traité akkadien de diagnostics et pronostics médicaux. Volume I: Transcription et traduction. Collection de Travaux de l’Académie Internationale d’Histoire des Sciences 7. Leiden: Brill, 1951. Lange, Armin. “The Essene Position on Magic and Divination.” Pages 377–435 in Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies Cambridge 1995, Published in Honour of Joseph M. Baumgarten. Edited by Moshe Bernstein, Florentino García Martínez, and John Kampen. STDJ 23. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Lange, Armin, and Marion Sieker. “Gattung und Quellenwert des Gebets des Nabonid.” Pages 3–34 in Qumranstudien: Vorträge und Beiträge der Teilnehmer des Qumran-

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seminars auf dem internationalen Treffen der Society of Biblical Literature, Münster, 25.–26. Juli 1993. Edited by Heinz-Josef Fabry, Armin Lange, and Hermann Lichtenberger. Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum 4. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996. Lipiński, Edward. “‫גזר‬.” Pages 162–66 in Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament. Band IX: Aramäisches Wörterbuch. Edited by Holger Gzella. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016. Meyer, Rudolf. Das Gebet des Nabonid: Eine in den Qumran-Handschriften wiederentdeckte Weisheitserzählung. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1962. Milik, Józef T. “‘Prière de Nabonide’ et autres écrits d’un cycle de Daniel.” RB 63 (1956): 407–15. Montgomery, James A. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Daniel. ICC. New York: T&T Clark, 1926. Newsom, Carol A. “Why Nabonidus? Excavating Traditions from Qumran, the Hebrew Bible, and Neo-Babylonian Sources.” Pages 57–79 in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Transmission of Traditions and Production of Texts. Edited by Sarianna Metso, Hindy Najman, and Eileen Schuller. STDJ 92. Leiden: Brill, 2010. Newsom, Carol A. “Now You See Him, Now You Don’t: Nabonidus in Jewish Memory.” Pages 270–82 in Remembering Biblical Figures in the Late Persian and Hellenistic Periods. Edited by Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Parpola, Simo, ed. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars. SAA 10. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1993. Penner, Jeremy. “Is 4Q534–536 Really About Noah?” Pages 97–112 in Noah and His Book(s). Edited by Michael E. Stone, Aryeh Amihay, and Vered Hillel. EJL 28. Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2010. Perrin, Andrew B. The Dynamics of Dream-Vision Revelation in the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls. JAJSup 19. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015. Popović, Mladen. Reading the Human Body: Physiognomics and Astrology in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Hellenistic-Early Roman Period Judaism. STDJ 67. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Puech, Émile. “La prière de Nabonide (4Q242).” Pages 208–27 in Targumic and Cognate Studies: Essays in Honour of Martin McNamara. Edited by Kevin J. Cathcart and Michael Maher. JSOTSup 230. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996. Puech, Émile. Qumrân Grotte 4.XXVII: Textes araméens, deuxième partie: 4Q550– 4Q575a, 4Q580–4Q587. DJD XXXVII. Oxford: Clarendon, 2009. Rochberg, Francesca. The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Scurlock, JoAnn. “Physician, Exorcist, Conjurer, Magician: A Tale of Two Healing Professionals.” Pages 69–79 in Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical, and Interpretive Perspectives. Edited by Tzvi Abusch and Karel van der Toorn. AMD 1. Groningen: Styx, 1999. Scurlock, JoAnn, and Burton R. Anderson. Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian Medicine: Ancient Sources, Translations, and Modern Medical Analyses. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2005. Strugnell, John. “Notes en marge du volume V des ‘Discoveries in the Judaean Desert of Jordan.’” RevQ 7/26 (1970): 163–276. Stuckenbruck, Loren T. “The Formation and Reformation of Daniel in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 101–30 in The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Princeton Sym-

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posium on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Volume One: Scripture and the Scrolls. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2006. Stuckenbruck, Loren T. 1 Enoch 91–108. CEJL. Berlin; New York: De Gruyter, 2007. van der Woude, Adam S. “Bemerkungen zum Gebet des Nabonid.” Pages 120–29 in Qumrân: Sa piété, sa théologie, son milieu. Edited by Mathias Delcor. BETL 46. Gembloux: Duculot, 1978. VanderKam, James C. Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition. CBQMS 16. Washington, DC: The Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1984. VanderKam, James C. “Mantic Wisdom in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” DSD 4 (1993): 336–53. Wills, Lawrence M. The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King: Ancient Jewish Court Legends. HDR 26. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1990.

The Heavenly Counterparts of Adapa and Enoch in Babylonia and Israel* Amar Annus

The character of Enoch was presented as the seventh antediluvian patriarch in Genesis 5 of the Hebrew Bible. This and other accounts relating to him in Jewish pseudepigrapha have been compared to several parts of Mesopotamian scholarly traditions. Borger (1974) and later Lambert (1998) compared Enoch to a set of Mesopotamian texts concerning the mythical king Enmeduranki of Sippar.1 In the Sumerian King List, the seventh antediluvian king is called with a variant name Enmedurana. The same king acts as the protagonist in a Babylonian text, which deals with the origin of liver divination (Akkadian barûtu). The first part of the text retells the legend about how the deities Shamash and Adad imparted the secret lore to Enmeduranki. This episode is often seen as a significant parallel to Enoch in Gen 5:24, who was taken to heaven. According to the Babylonian text, Enmeduranki passed his knowledge to some citizens of Nippur, Sippar, and Babylon. The text also contains a section enumerating qualifications for a scholar and priest and ends with a passage explaining the significance of substances used in rituals.2 Another Mesopotamian account that relates to the events during the seventh antediluvian generation is found in the cuneiform incantation series Bīt Mēseri. In a list of antediluvian sages that is presented in the series, to the seventh name Utuabzu a comment is adduced: “who ascended to heaven.”3 The Jewish accounts about Enoch, who ascended to heaven and was the seventh on the list of antediluvian patriarchs, are modelled on the earlier Mesopotamian tradition about Enmeduranki and the sage Utuabzu. Whereas

* Work on this paper was supported by the personal research grant from the Estonian Research Council (PUT 1466). 1 Rykle Borger, “Die Beschwörungsserie Bīt Mēseri und die Himmelfahrt Henochs,” JNES 33 (1974): 183–96; W.G. Lambert, “The Qualifications of Babylonian Diviners,” in Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994, ed. Stefan M. Maul (Groningen: Styx, 1998), 141–58. 2 Lambert, “The Qualifications of Babylonian Diviners,” 150–51. 3 Borger, “Die Beschwörungsserie Bīt Mēseri und die Himmelfahrt Henochs,” 192.

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Enmeduranki learned the divine lore at the audience with Shamash and Adad, the seventh sage Utuabzu visited heaven. The Enoch figure appears to have a plausible origin in the mythical king of Sippar, who was the patron of liver divination. This Mesopotamian city was the center for the cult of the sun god Shamash, which is reflected in the figure 365 as the number of days in a solar year and the amount of Enoch’s years on earth. Enoch’s ascension to heaven appears to have a cognate relationship with the otherwise obscure character Utuabzu, the seventh antediluvian sage. Whereas Enoch has similar traits with each of them, the Jewish tradition is not directly copied from any of these comparable Mesopotamian texts that modern scholarship has discovered. It is to be assumed that in the ancient Near East a wealth of traditions existed about antediluvian patriarchs, kings, and sages, which was transmitted orally. These traditions must have been partly overlapping in the sense that similar stories were narrated about different figures. Conversely, the traditions of antediluvian authorities were also conflicting when contradictory accounts circulated about the same figures. The Enoch traditions represent a mixture of oral lore derived from different origins during several periods rather than being copied from a certain Mesopotamian source. The figure of Enoch borrowed elements from several Mesopotamian antediluvian characters in order to show how a Jewish national hero was superior in regard to all of them. The present paper will study the heavenly counterpart tradition in the Babylonian literature about Adapa-Oannes from the point of view of comparing it to similar concepts found in Enochic lore. Adapa was the mythical sage and a legend explained how he became the patron of exorcism.4 Whereas Enmeduranki was connected to the science of liver divination, the rites of purification were the area of expertise for Adapa. Here it will be assumed that Enoch in Judaeo-Christian narratives took over traits from both the ancient Adapa and Enmeduranki. The most obvious common features for Adapa, Enmeduranki, and Enoch are that they ascended to heaven and were regarded as originators of certain priestly sciences during antediluvian times. These three mythical characters were important for ideologies of priestly identities in ancient Babylonia and Israel. In both traditions, the flood hero was thought to intermediate between the antediluvian wisdom and humankind. Adapa was associated with the flood hero in a similar way as Enoch related to Noah. The Mesopotamian flood hero was granted immortality just like Enoch and may have contributed to the latter’s emergence. Both Enoch and Noah “walked with God” (Gen 6:9), which expression is used of only these antediluvian

4 Amar Annus, The Overturned Boat: Intertextuality of the Adapa Myth and Exorcist Literature, SAAS 24 (Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2016).

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characters.5 During the long processes of transmission and development, the Enochic traditions picked up material from various Mesopotamian sources, including the lore about Adapa-Oannes and the flood survivor.

I. The Adapa Myth and Ideology of Exorcism The epic fragments in Akkadian tell the story of primeval Adapa, the priest and cook in the most ancient city of Eridu.6 Two recently published Old Babylonian tablets in Sumerian with the Adaba myth have integrated the same story into the history of primeval world, which perspective is lacking in later Akkadian versions. In the Sumerian texts, Adaba emerges as a creation of the god Enki after a series of events following the universal flood.7 In the myth, Adapa goes fishing to the sea, where the south wind capsizes his boat. Adapa curses the wind and breaks its wings but falls into the sea and immerses into the ocean. After seven days, the god of wisdom Ea/Enki wakes him up and gives advice to him. This episode should be interpreted as rebirth of Adapa.8 Subsequently he ascends to heaven and becomes indoctrinated. The god of heaven Anu offers him food and drink that the sage refuses to consume following his master’s advice. In the Middle Babylonian tablet from Amarna, Adapa’s ascension to heaven is completed with the motif of his return to earth, as presented in a dialogue between Anu and Adapa (fragment B, rev. 67–70): “Come, Adapa, why did you not eat and drink? Hence you shall not live! Alas for inferior humanity!” – “Ea my lord told me: ‘Do not eat, do not dr[i]nk!’” – “Take him and [retu]rn him to (his) earth!”9

However, there was a version of the myth with a different ending. According to another version Adapa remained in heaven and was enthroned there. In the Sumerian forerunner, the god An offered to Adaba a throne to sit on as a gesture of benevolence: a [ n] - e a - d a - b a

geš-túg

GEŠTUG kù-zu igi-du8

geš

g [ u - z ] a m u - u n - n a - a n - ˹ s u m˺

“(The god) An gave to Adaba – the intelligent and wise one – the th[ron]e as an audience gift.10

5 Helge S. Kvanvig, Roots of Apocalyptic: The Mesopotamian Background of the Enoch Figure and the Son of Man, WMANT 61 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1988), 93. 6 Shlomo Izre’el, Adapa and the South Wind, MC 10 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001). 7 See Antoine Cavigneaux, “Une version sumérienne de la légende d’Adapa (Textes de Tell Haddad X),” ZA 104 (2014): 1–41. 8 Annus, The Overturned Boat, 53. 9 Translation of Izre’el, Adapa and the South Wind, 21. 10 Cavigneaux, “Une version sumérienne de la légende d’Adapa,” 23, line 166.

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The later Akkadian version elaborates on this point with a passage that lets the reader understand that Adapa remained in heaven. The Neo-Assyrian fragment K 8214 in the British Museum contains a statement of the destiny of Adapa. The eight lines in the Nineveh fragment concerning Adapa’s fate read as follows (K 8214, rev. 7’–14’): […] Adapa, from the foundation of heaven to the summit of heaven, […] looked at […] and saw his awesomeness. At that time Anu estab[lished] Adapa as watcher. […] he established his freedom from Ea. [An]u se[t] a decree to make glorious his lordship forever: […] Adapa, seed of humankind, […] he who broke the South Wind’s wing triumphantly (and) ascended to heaven, – so be it forever!

Accordingly, there existed two versions of the Adapa myth – the fragment quoted above presents a different version of the outcome of the story. Namely, Adapa did not return to the earth, but remained in heaven as the ultimate sign of divine wisdom.11 The exclamation “so be it forever” (Akkadian: šī lū kīam) refers to a change in status, this formula asserts the fact that Adapa ascended to heaven and should remain there.12 This alternative ending of the text brings Adapa closer to Enoch, who was transferred to heaven permanently. The elevated status of Adapa is also reflected in a Neo-Assyrian literary catalogue from Nineveh (Rm 618), which lists the incipit of a work “Adapa in the middle heaven.” This may be the title of a text, which exalted the enthroned Adapa in heaven. The Adapa myth was of paramount importance to Babylonian exorcist priests and their identity. The exorcist priests had positive possession experiences with the ancient sage when they carried out purification rituals. Adapa’s ascension to heaven promoted the priest’s identity to an appropriate level. Adapa’s rebirth is a metaphor for such promotion and is reflected in the names that are given to him in the incantation series Bīt Mēseri – ù -t u - ab z u, “Born in the Apsû” and ù - t u -a - ab -b a, “Born in the Sea.”13 In the Mesopotamian series of healing incantations Utukkū Lemnūtu 3.81–89, the purification priest declares his identity with the ancient sage as follows:

11 Helge S. Kvanvig, Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic, JSJSup 149 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011), 124. 12 Izre’el, Adapa and the South Wind, 42. 13 Annus, The Overturned Boat, 51.

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“As Adapa, sage of Eridu, I am Ea’s incantation priest, and I am Marduk’s messenger. In order to cure the patient of his illness the great lord Ea has sent me. He superimposed his incantation upon mine, he superimposed his pure mouth upon mine, he superimposed his pure spittle upon mine, he superimposed his pure prayer upon mine.”14

During the healing ritual, the purification priest acted as the divine exorcist Marduk or as Adapa, his messenger to the god of wisdom. The exorcist became the embodiment of Adapa. The priest’s personal agency diminished and his identity fused with that of his divine patron, who received instructions from the god of wisdom in a dialogue. If the healing ritual turned out to be successful, this possession experience had a positive outcome. When the exorcist’s identity was enriched with positive attributes and transformed during the ritual to a higher level this can be described as a religious experience.15 The plot of the Adapa narrative served as the blueprint for a process of healing and purification rituals. The range of motifs that are found in the Adapa myth relate to the exorcistic rituals of purification against all possible kinds of evil. Adapa’s sailing on boat relates to the removal of evil entities from human habitations into the nether-world. Adapa’s curse of the south wind relates to the exorcistic power of speech eliminating sins and causes of disease, misfortune and ill omens. Adapa’s seven days in the sea relates to critical periods encountered by the priest when dealing with disease, imprisonment of the evil forces into the netherworld, and when helping a mother to give birth to an unborn child. The god of wisdom Ea touching Adapa and waking him in the sea relates to a spiritual rebirth and to the exorcist’s ability to perform healing rituals under the authority of Ea/Marduk. Adapa’s positive judgement in heaven by Anu relates to healing, to the release of an innocent person from the netherworld prison, and to the birth of a child. Adapa’s anointment and new clothing at the end of the myth implies the initiation into exorcism. The Adapa myth functioned as a narrative of self-promotion for Mesopotamian exorcist priests.16

II. The Heavenly Image of Adapa The different ending of the Adapa myth, where he remained in heaven is reflected in the cuneiform topographical text Tintir, which is a standard scholarly list of Babylonian temples.17 Besides the epithets of the city and its 14 Markham J. Geller, Healing Magic and Evil Demons: Canonical Udug-hul Incantations. With the Assistance of Luděk Vacín (Boston; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016), 107–8. 15 See Patrick McNamara, The Neuroscience of Religious Experience (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 16 Annus, The Overturned Boat, 73. 17 A.R. George, Babylonian Topographical Texts, OLA 40 (Leuven: Peeters, 1992).

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topographical features, the text also lists seats in Marduk’s temple of Babylon. In the beginning of the second tablet, the series gives the order of the seats that furnished Marduk’s inner cella E-umuša in his main temple Esagila. The text first accounts for the ceremonial name of the seat, secondly names its mythological owner and then the figure, who actually sits on it enthroned. The first two lines read as follows:18 1. Tiamat – “Sea” – the seat of Bel on which Bel sits; 2. Ki-tilmunna – “Place of Tilmun” – the seat of Anu [on] which the Son of Oannes [sits].

The first seat belongs to Marduk as the king of the gods and the second one belongs to sky god Anu. The second entry has relevance to the ending of the Adapa myth, according to which the sage remained in heaven. Oannes was an alternative name for the sage and “son of Oannes” on the seat of Anu is a reference to the enthronement of Adapa in heaven. The seat occupied by him is mentioned next to the seat of the main god of the temple, Marduk. This context allows to surmise that the status of the “son of Oannes” is very high, equalling that of the chief exorcist of the temple. It can be speculated that “son of Oannes” is comparable to the priestly figure otherwise known as the Elder Brother of E-umuša in some Late Babylonian cultic texts.19 According to ancient Babylonian theological understanding, the state of affairs in important temples of the land closely matched the situation in the heaven of gods. For example, in the Babylonian Creation Epic (Enuma elish) VI 112, Marduk is eulogized: “What he has made in heaven, its image let him also do on earth” (tamšīl ina šamê itēpušu ina erṣetim līpuš).20 The Akkadian word tamšīlu stands for a mirror image or counterpart and can be used for a son in respect to his father.21 Marduk’s temple in Babylon replicated the situation in heaven, where a certain “son of Oannes” sat on Anu’s throne. The otherworldly locality of this throne is called the “place of Tilmun,” making a connection with the resting place of the flood hero. In the Sumerian flood narrative, Dilmun occurs as the name of the pristine land to which the immortal flood hero was transferred.22 The Adapa myth had a conceptual connection with flood narratives, as can be inferred from several facts.23 Among the flood survivor’s names in Akkadian literature was Atra18

George, Babylonian Topographical Texts, 44. See Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse, “A Babylonian Priestly Martyr, a King-like Priest, and the Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” WZKM 107 (2017): 77–98. 20 W.G. Lambert, Babylonian Creation Myths, MC 16 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013). 21 See CAD T, 149, meaning 2b. 22 Yi S. Chen, The Primeval Flood Catastrophe: Origins and Early Development in Mesopotamian Traditions, Oxford Oriental Monographs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 82–83. 23 See Annus, The Overturned Boat, 16–19. 19

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hasis, meaning “exceedingly wise,” which also occurs as an epithet of the sage in the Adapa myth.24 In the Epic of Gilgamesh XI 197, where the flood survivor Uta-napišti is admitted into the company of the gods, he also bears the same epithet.25 Both Adapa and Atra-hasis lived in the antediluvian period of humankind and the immortalization of the flood hero was understood as equivalent to Adapa’s elevation to heaven in the ancient Mesopotamian tradition. There was an overlap between the identities of the sage and the flood survivor. The “son of Oannes” in Tintir II 2 reflects this situation by referring to celestial Adapa in the form of a youthful flood hero. In ritual practice, the Mesopotamian exorcist priest encountered this figure as his heavenly counterpart during ascent experiences. In neurological terms, it is the priest’s autoscopic image (see below). Whereas the name of Adapa is known from many cuneiform texts, no other references are found to his son. The “son of Oannes” occurs only in Tintir II 2, where he appears to be identified with the flood hero. Remarkable similarities to this state of affairs can be pointed out in Enochic literature. The epithet “youth” is given to the patriarch in the book of 2 Enoch, but an account of his birth is absent from Enochic lore. It appears that such a miraculous birth account is rendered in early Enochic materials through the imagery of the wondrous child Noah in 1 Enoch and Genesis Apocryphon.26 The settings of these stories also include temples and cultic servants, which serve as fertile ground for unfolding the lore about the celestial identities. The angelomorphic child Noah might be envisioned as the heavenly identity of the flood hero who is endowed with priestly credentials. The scene in 1 En. 106:2 where the glorious visage of the young flood hero conveys blessings has a sacerdotal significance and parallels the appearance and actions of the high priest. The writers of early Enochic materials were aware of the sacerdotal counterparts who are present simultaneously in heaven and on earth.27 The “son of Oannes,” who appears in the list of Tintir originates from the Adapa myth, which narrative related to the ritual activities of exorcist priests. This “son of Oannes” is therefore an embodiment of priestly functions in the most important Babylonian temple, which was built according to the heavenly model. Adapa’s close relationship to the “son of Oannes” has a pattern of similarities to Enoch’s shared identity with the flood hero Noah. In the early Enochic booklets, Enoch and the flood hero Noah often appear in the same roles where the latter serves as the conceptual double of the 24

Izre’el, Adapa and the South Wind, 9, A obv. 8’. A.R. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts, 2 vols. (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), 1:716. 26 1 Enoch 106; 1Q20 (1QapGen ar) V, 2–13. 27 Andrei Orlov, The Greatest Mirror: Heavenly Counterparts in the Jewish Pseudepigrapha (New York: SUNY Press, 2017), 32–33. 25

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seventh antediluvian hero.28 In the Noachic traditions the flood survivor and Enoch often appear in the same or similar roles.29 Noah sometimes occurs as the mediator and repository of Enochic wisdom, for example in 1 En. 68:1 (cf. Jub 7:38). The Mesopotamian antecedent to this state of affairs appears in Adapa as the “exceedingly wise” of antediluvian sages, whose identity is partly shared by the flood hero as his childlike heavenly counterpart in the Esagila temple. Comparably, the flood survivor is the source of antediluvian knowledge also in the Gilgamesh Epic. The image of Adapa as the prototype of the exorcist priest is congruent with the sacerdotal imagery that is associated with both Enoch and Noah. These two antediluvian characters were important for Israelite priests just as Adapa was for Mesopotamian exorcists.

III. Enoch and His Heavenly Counterparts The Babylonian traditions about Adapa-Oannes have remarkable similarities with the various accounts of Enoch’s ascent to heaven. The Mesopotamian Adapa, who remained in heaven resembles the Enoch figure in Judaism, who was translated to heaven to stay there, as “an example of knowledge for all generations” (Sir 44:16). This Enoch, who is also called Metatron, was God’s vice-regent and possessed his own throne in heaven according to the Talmudic tradition in b.Hagigah 15a.30 In the text of 3 Enoch, the supreme angel Metatron was fashioned as Enoch’s double and envisioned with the imagery of “youth” as the human protagonist’s heavenly alter ego.31 The title “youth” also plays an important role in 2 Enoch, where it probably designates the patriarch’s heavenly persona. Several Slavonic manuscripts of the shorter recension apply the title many times solely to the patriarch Enoch.32 The heavenly form of Enoch as a young man and God’s vice-regent strikingly resembles the “son of Oannes” having a seat next to Marduk in the topography of the Esagila temple. As Andrei Orlov demonstrates in his recent book The Greatest Mirror (2017), already Jewish pseudepigrapha of the Second Temple period develop the heavenly counterpart traditions. In Jewish accounts, the heavenly ascent stories often assume a double identity of the human adept – he is sleeping on earth and installed in heaven at the same time. The early concepts and imagery of the heavenly double in the Jewish pseudepigraphical lore stand at the beginning of many Christian, Manichaean, Mandaean, Muslim, and 28

Orlov, The Greatest Mirror, 32–33. Kvanvig, Roots of Apocalyptic, 117. 30 Andrei Orlov, The Enoch-Metatron Tradition, TSAJ 107 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 162. 31 Orlov, The Greatest Mirror, 4. 32 Ibid., 30. 29

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Kabbalistic developments. The heavenly identities assume the forms of a spirit, an image, a face, a child, a mirror, or an angel of divine presence. The heavenly journeys of the mystics are motivated by the apocalyptic interest in acquiring a celestial shape, to go through a radical transformation in order to obtain new luminous bodies reminiscent of Adam’s original form in the Garden of Eden. The upper luminous form of human seers is often envisioned as the heavenly counterpart, the celestial alter ego, sometimes seen as enthroned in heaven.33 The present paper limits its discussion to the heavenly counterpart traditions that are encountered in the books of Enoch. The patriarch’s travel to heaven and his progression through the chambers of the celestial sanctuary in 1 En. 14:9–18 ends with the vision of a high throne. In the course of this encounter, Enoch becomes a heavenly counterpart of the high priest as the earthly sacerdotal servant associated with the activities in these chambers, when the priest once a year on Yom Kippur was allowed to enter the divine Presence. The seer appears to be simultaneously in both realms: dreaming in his sleep on earth and at the same time installed as the sacerdotal servant in the heavenly temple.34 The relevant passage reads as follows: And I proceeded until I came near to a wall which was built of hailstones, and a tongue of fire surrounded it, and it began to make me afraid. And I went into the tongue of fire and came near to a large house which was built of hailstones, and the wall of that house (was) like a mosaic (made) of hailstones, and its floor (was) snow. Its roof (was) like the path of the stars and flashes of lightning, and among them (were) fiery Cherubim, and their heaven (was like) water. And (there was) a fire burning around its wall, and its door was ablaze with fire. And I went into that house, and (it was) hot as fire and cold as snow, and there was neither pleasure nor life in it. Fear covered me and trembling, I fell on my face. And I saw in the vision, and behold, another house, which was larger than the former, and all its doors (were) open before me, and (it was) built of a tongue of fire. And in everything it so excelled in glory and splendor and size that I am unable to describe to you its glory and its size. And its floor (was) fire, and above (were) lightning and the path of the stars, and its roof also (was) a burning fire. And I looked and I saw in it a high throne, and its appearance (was) like ice and its surrounds like the shining sun and the sound of Cherubim.35

Martha Himmelfarb stresses the topographical aspects of Enoch’s progression account in which “the ascent shows him passing through the outer court of the temple and the sanctuary to the door of the Holy of Holies, where God addresses him with his own mouth.”36 Comparably, the “son of Oannes” is also located in the inner cella of Marduk. When presenting the journey from 33

Ibid., 7–42 (Chapter 1). Ibid., 10. 35 Translation of Michael A. Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch: A New Edition in the Light of the Aramaic Dead Sea Fragments, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1978), 2:98–99. 36 Martha Himmelfarb, “Apocalyptic Ascent and the Heavenly Temple,” SBLSP 26 (1987): 210–17, esp. 212. 34

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this vantage point, the author of the Book of the Watchers assumes divine status for Enoch through his service in the heavenly temple. The manner of presentation allows a double identity for the apocalyptic protagonist because the dream about the celestial temple is told in 1 Enoch 14 from two perspectives. The first perspective tells the whole series of events, emphasizing that Enoch stays on the earth during the dream. The second perspective focuses on Enoch as the protagonist of the dream itself when he is carried away to the heavenly temple.37 This double identity is directly related to mystical practices in which the ritual participant meets his own counterpart. Helge Kvanvig sees these developments in 1 Enoch 14 as an important conceptual step in the shaping of the subsequent tradition of Enoch’s heavenly double in the Book of the Similitudes. He notes that “in 1 Enoch 13–14 Enoch sees himself as a visionary counterpart in heaven. In [the Similitudes] 70–71 Enoch is actually taken to heaven to be identified as the Son of Man.”38 The heavenly counterpart tradition in the Book of the Similitudes presents the paradoxical identification between Enoch and his upper identity in the form of the Son of Man.39 In 1 Enoch 70–71 the patriarch is taken to heaven to be so identified: And the spirit carried Enoch off to the highest heaven, and I saw there in the middle of that light something built of crystal stones, and in the middle of those stones tongues of living fire. And my spirit saw a circle of fire which surrounded that house; from its four sides (came) rivers full of living fire, and they surrounded that house. And round about (were) the Seraphim, and the Cherubim, and the Ophannim; these are they who do not sleep, but keep watch over the throne of his glory. And I saw angels who could not be counted, a thousand thousands and ten thousand times ten thousand, surrounding that house; and Michael and Raphael and Gabriel and Phanuel, and the holy angels who (are) in the heavens above, went in and out of that house. And Michael and Raphael and Gabriel and Phanuel, and many holy angels without number, came out from that house; and with them the Head of Days, his head white and pure like wool, and his garments indescribable. And I fell upon my face, and my whole body melted, and my spirit was transformed; and I cried out in a loud voice in the spirit of power, and I blessed and praised and exalted. And these blessings which came out from my mouth were pleasing before that Head of Days. And that Head of Days came with Michael and Gabriel, Raphael and Phanuel, and thousands and tens of thousands of angels without number. And that angel came to me, and greeted me with his voice, and said to me: “You are the Son of Man who was born to righteousness, and righteousness remains over you, and the righteousness of the Head of Days will not leave you.”40

37 Helge S. Kvanvig, “The Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch,” in Enoch and the Messiah Son of Man: Revisiting the Book of Parables, ed. Gabriele Boccaccini (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007), 179–215, esp. 181. 38 Ibid., 182. 39 Orlov, The Greatest Mirror, 4. 40 1 En. 71:5–14, translation of Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch, 2:166–67.

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Thus the curriculum of Enoch is very similar to that of Adapa – both are antediluvian authorities, who encounter and become associated with their heavenly counterparts in mystical ascent experiences. This heavenly counterpart has a youthful appearance, he is associated with the flood hero and immortality. The narrative of the Adapa myth allows the sage to remain in heaven in the exalted form, he is encountered as “son of Oannes” in the main temple of the land. Enoch becomes identified with the heavenly “Son of Man.” Both Adapa and Enoch are embodied by the earthly priests, who meet their celestial counterparts during ascent experiences. These experiences promote their sense of identity and increase their prestige in religious communities. The alternative in the ascent scenario according to which an antediluvian authority was either allowed to stay in heaven or expelled to work on earth solved the paradox how the priests could be active in their mundane form but yet be identified with their eternal heavenly masters. The Enochic literature used this basic scenario in regard to other ancient authorities that were important for the communities in which the books emerged: … in 2 Enoch the story of the miraculous child Melchizedek parallels in some details the story of the main protagonist – the patriarch Enoch. Thus, Enoch and Melchizedek are the only two characters of the apocalypse who undergo translation to heaven. Like Enoch, Melchizedek then returns to the earth after his visitation to heaven in order to become a priest after the Flood. In view of these similarities and also the Noachic parallels mentioned before, it is evident that the miraculous child Melchizedek fulfills here the same functions as the child Noah in early Enochic accounts.41

The imagery of heavenly counterpart in the books of Enoch is related to God’s Kavod – a fiery structure surrounded by rivers of living fire as in 1 En. 71:5. In 2 Enoch 21–22 the metamorphosis of the patriarch takes place near the deity’s Kavod, described as the divine face, after which the protagonist returns to the human realm in order to transmit the revelations. Enoch has to abandon his celestial identity and luminous heavenly garment.42 The fiery structure in 1 En. 71:8 represents the Throne of Glory as the deity’s seat, which is referenced to after the description of the crystal.43 The divine throne is a locus of intense numinosity also in the Babylonian case of “son of Oannes.” The Sumerian word dilmun in its name is equated with Akkadian kabtu in lexical lists.44 The Akkadian root is etymologically connected to Hebrew kbd. The Akkadian kabtu had many synonymous words for expressing the sublimity of divine appearances or their paraphernalia. The imagery of divine thrones seen during visionary experiences among the priests devoted, respectively, to Enoch and Adapa was invested with similar attributes. 41

Orlov, The Greatest Mirror, 33. Ibid., 16. 43 Ibid., 13. 44 CAD K, 25, lexical section. 42

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IV. The Neuroscientific Explanation of a Heavenly Double The problem of a heavenly double can be explained from the point of view of neuroscience as explored in the recent book on Kabbalah written in collaboration of the neuroscientist Shahar Arzy and the scholar of Jewish mysticism, Moshe Idel.45 The book first outlines the traditional scholarly methods, which have attempted to understand mystical experiences such as ascent to heaven. All these are top-down theoretical approaches. First, the theological approach to the mystical practices puts emphasis on the learning about the nature of God and the divine realm, for which the message of the mystic represents a piece of much appreciated knowledge. From this perspective, the holy scriptures such as the Hebrew Bible become the source for an enormous number of speculations about the divine world. This form of approach to Jewish mysticism usually operates in the theological concepts derived from the Bible and does not reflect the internal world of the experiencer. The second approach concerns the social role of the mystic in regard to society to which (s)he belongs. It does not regard the content of revelation as a message, but represents it as a source of identity for the society in language, ethics and practice. Third, at the center of psychoanalytic investigation is the practice of decoding the texts in order to access the unconscious and archetypal content that is encoded in reports of mystical experiences.46 All these three are topdown conceptual approaches, which always consider the contextual meaning of mystical experiences. These approaches are not suitable for an analysis of intercultural borrowings. The cultural semantics is usually not a subject of borrowing from one culture to another, because the meaning is prone to change in every intercultural transference. The limitations of top-down approaches become apparent when intercultural borrowings are considered. In intercultural borrowings the meaning can change profoundly during the process. For example, when influences of the American popular music are detected in Russia, it does not make much sense to investigate the top level political exchanges between the two countries in order to trace the cultural influence. The cultural attitudes are not implemented in a top-down manner, but more often are exchanged through cultural interaction, which can include imitation, but also creative rearrangements and hostile reactions. In regard to antiquity, only bottom-up approaches are able to point to previously unknown contexts, in which borrowings may

45

Shahar Arzy and Moshe Idel, Kabbalah: A Neurocognitive Approach to Mystical Experiences (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2015). 46 Ibid., 6–7.

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have occurred. Therefore it is justified to start the investigation from a significant fact or detail, not with a general theory.47 When asking for the meaning of heavenly ascent experience in ancient Mesopotamia and Israel, it does not suffice to analyze the semantics of the concept and the socio-historical contexts of different rituals. With the help of brain sciences, bottom-up methodologies are available to analyze the mental states behind mystical experiences. The neurocognitive approach from within the brain will supply a framework for understanding the ecstatic experiences through the underlying neurocognitive mechanisms. In order to understand the mystical experience as processed in the ritual participant’s own mind, a bottom-up approach is required, which focuses on the experience itself, its underlying cognitive, psychological, and neurophysiological mechanisms.48 The ascent to heaven and seeing one’s double are parts of the same experience due to the related brain mechanisms. The mystical experience may be aimed to establish the unity of the self that is attained through ecstasy. According to McNamara’s neuroscientific account,49 the religious experience aims at the unity of the self and spiritual transformation through transient reduction of agency (“decentering mechanism”). Alternatively, the mystic may wish to challenge the habitual self of his/her own embodiment, which can involve disembodiment.50 Ecstasy requires the alteration of neurocognitive mechanisms that normally function to unify self and body. The ascent to heaven experience involves either leaving the body for a heavenly journey or an ascent of the disembodied soul. Both forms of the experience involve disembodiment, which may include autoscopy – the vision of a human form, which is closely linked to the mystic’s own physical appearance.51 Out-of-body experiences may result from mystical aspirations to make an ascent to heaven. According to recent studies, out-of-body experiences (OBE) are not only found in clinical groups, but appear in approximately 10% of the healthy population. Such experiences have been described in the majority of the world’s cultures. They generally occur spontaneously, are of short duration, and happen only once or twice in a lifetime. An out-of-body experience is defined by the presence of three phenomenological characteristics: disembodiment (location of the self outside one’s body), the impression of seeing the world from a distant and elevated visuo-spatial perspective, and

47

See Amar Annus, “Seeing Otherwise: On the Rules of Comparison in Historical Humanities,” in Melammu: The Ancient World in an Age of Globalization, ed. Markham J. Geller, Max Planck Research Library for the History and Development of Knowledge Proceedings 7 (Berlin: Edition Open Access, 2014), 359–72. 48 Arzy and Idel, Kabbalah, 9–10. 49 McNamara, The Neuroscience of Religious Experience, 46–47. 50 Arzy and Idel, Kabbalah, 19–21. 51 Ibid., 47.

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the impression of seeing one’s own body from this elevated perspective.52 The neurological substrate of out-of-body experiences is partly responsible for human tendencies to postulate the existence of souls, spirits, and other supernatural agents. The impact of these experiences must be central to the generation of mythological and cosmological systems and spiritual beliefs associated with them.53 Disembodiment in the ascension and out-of-body experiences may also occur without perceiving one’s double. However, common to out-of-body experiences is a combination of seeing one’s double from an elevated point of view and the mystical interest of ascension on high. The ascension technique demands that mystics imagine themselves mentally “on high,” changing their habitual visuo-spatial perspective and self-location to a non-habitual one. This requires activation of brain mechanisms in the right temporo-parietal junction, in a way similar to the disembodiment task.54 The temporo-parietal junction on the right side (RTPJ) is normally involved in monitoring self and others, but its stimulation can produce the unusual experience that someone else is present with you, when there is none.55 Damage to the temporoparietal junction (TPJ) can lead to deficiencies of the social brain, but also to out-of-body experiences. A failure to integrate multisensory information from the body at the temporo-parietal junction leads to the disruption of several phenomenological and cognitive aspects of self-processing, causing illusory reduplication, selflocation, perspective, and agency that are experienced as an out-of-body experience.56 The temporo-parietal junction is adjacent to brain areas responsible for the integration of somatosensory information and the vestibular system that provides the leading contribution to the sense of balance. Interference with this integration or the transfer of vestibular information to other parts of the brain can lead to altered senses of body ownership and disembodiment.57 Disintegration of bodily information can be attained with shamanic techniques, whereby functional brain areas are overloaded by excessive stimulation. Subsequently the sensory system shuts down and the self-processing is allowed to operate free of actual body input: 52

Peter Brugger, Marianne Regard, and Theodor Landis, “Illusory Reduplication of One’s Own Body: Phenomenology and Classification of Autoscopic Phenomena,” Cognitive Neuropsychiatry 2/1 (1997): 19–38. 53 Michael Winkelman, Shamanism: A Biopsychosocial Paradigm of Consciousness and Healing, 2nd edn. (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2010), 124. 54 Arzy and Idel, Kabbalah, 64, 68–69, 81–83. 55 Shahar Arzy, Margitta Seeck, Stephanie Ortigue, Laurent Spinelli, and Olaf Blanke, “Induction of an Illusory Shadow Person,” Nature 443, no. 7109 (2006): 287. 56 Olaf Blanke and Shahar Arzy, “The Out-of-Body Experience: Disturbed SelfProcessing at the Temporo-Parietal Junction,” Neuroscientist 11 (2005): 16–24. 57 Winkelman, Shamanism, 121–22.

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The OBE indicates interference with the vestibular areas that provide an integrated sense of balance central to body sensations. In shamanic OBEs this deactivation of normal vestibular system functions apparently results from the extensive dancing and drumming by the shaman. These excessive repetitive activities lasting hours can overwhelm the ability of the vestibular system to maintain balance and manage input about movement.58

A classical situation for autoscopic phenomena to occur is between waking and sleeping, therefore the neurophysiology of dreaming is highly relevant for mystical experiences. One’s double is not only seen, but also felt and sensed in a dream. Seeing one’s double in a dream suggests to the dreamer that (s)he has more than one self and can be conceived as supporting evidence for the existence of the soul. The experience of seeing one’s double in a dream tends to occur when the resources for the ego are exhausted, which also triggers reduction in the sense of agency and the onset of a religious experience.59 The double of the self that is seen during autoscopic experiences can be different from the actual self in age or gender. It is quite common that the double looks younger, as in the following autoscopic hallucination: The patient suddenly noticed a seated figure on the left. “It wasn’t hard to realize that it was I myself who was sitting there. I looked younger and fresher than I do now. My double smiled at me in a friendly way.”60

The relationship between the own body and the body of the double self during this unusual experience may become more complicated by heautoscopy, in which the subject sees his/her double in extrapersonal space, but finds it difficult to decide whether (s)he is disembodied or not. As a result, the subjects may say that they experience seeing the world from two simultaneous or alternating points of view.61 When the individual regains the normal sense of self and body after this type of extraordinary experience occurring either in a dream or waking state, (s)he may invest the experience with enormous personal meaning. The emotional value of such experiences would also be much appreciated by other members of the community to which the person belongs when (s)he shares them with others. Such experiences would become a subject of different stories and songs about travels to otherworldly realms invested with high religious value.

58

Winkelman, Shamanism, 122. Patrick McNamara, Dreams and Visions: How Religious Ideas Emerge in Sleep and Dreams (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2016), 52–55. 60 Blanke and Arzy, “The Out-of-Body Experience,” 17. 61 Ibid., 17. Arzy, Seeck, Ortigue, Spinelli, and Blanke, “Induction of an Illusory Shadow Person.” 59

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V. Conclusions The “son of Oannes” in the Babylonian topographical list Tintir II 2 should be understood as the heavenly counterpart of Adapa and exorcistic priest. The Adapa myth was an identity constituting narrative for Mesopotamian exorcistic priests, which had two different conclusions. In one version Adapa had to descend to earth, but in another he stayed in heaven. This divergence of outcomes in the stories can be explained that during a heavenly ascent the mythical sage became identified with his celestial double, who was immortal and shared his identity with the flood hero. This Adapa narrative served as the mythical background for the ritual activities of Babylonian exorcistic priests. The ideological connection between certain priests and the flood hero is also found in the Jewish pseudepigraphic accounts, where Enoch and Noah share their identities and have similar functions. There are reasons to believe that this close relationship was modelled on the earlier Mesopotamian materials relating to the ideology of exorcism. The Adapa figure served as the patron for exorcistic sciences and knowledge in the cultural milieu of ancient Mesopotamia. The figure of Enoch as the authority of Aramaic science was partly modelled on the Adapa tradition. This can be demonstrated with the fact that both authorities of antediluvian wisdom shared their identities with the corresponding flood heroes of their cultures. There are conceptual similarities between Mesopotamian and Jewish texts, which can be explained with reference to brain sciences. The experiences of ascent to heaven and meeting one’s double can be analyzed as universal phenomena based on closely related neurocognitive mechanisms occurring in the same areas of the brain. Within the frames of a bottom-up approach it is possible to point to accounts in Jewish and Mesopotamian texts, where these two experiences co-occur. However, the relevant textual descriptions also have some significant similarities in the narrative content. The visions of ascent contain aspects of priestly legitimation in the Adapa myth, which can be favorably compared to the description of the heavenly temple in 1 Enoch 14. Both Adapa and Enoch texts have references to cultic activities of priests, which locate these figures in the holiest parts of temple topography – in Marduk’s cella E-umuša in Babylon and in the Holy of Holies of the heavenly temple. These details indicate that ascent to heaven and meeting the heavenly double had a similar conceptual content for both the Mesopotamian and the Israelite culture. Therefore it is natural to assume that the two textual traditions about heavenly counterparts shared their ideas with each other also on the level of cultural interaction.

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Bibliography Annus, Amar. “Seeing Otherwise: On the Rules of Comparison in Historical Humanities.” Pages 359–72 in Melammu: The Ancient World in an Age of Globalization. Edited by Markham J. Geller. Max Planck Research Library for the History and Development of Knowledge Proceedings 7. Berlin: Edition Open Access, 2014. Annus, Amar. The Overturned Boat: Intertextuality of the Adapa Myth and Exorcist Literature. SAAS 24. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2016. Arzy, Shahar, and Moshe Idel. Kabbalah: A Neurocognitive Approach to Mystical Experiences. New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2015. Arzy, Shahar, Margitta Seeck, Stephanie Ortigue, Laurent Spinelli, and Olaf Blanke. “Induction of an Illusory Shadow Person.” Nature 443, no. 7109 (2006): 287. Blanke, Olaf, and Shahar Arzy. “The Out-of-Body Experience: Disturbed Self-Processing at the Temporo-Parietal Junction.” Neuroscientist 11 (2005): 16–24. Borger, Rykle. “Die Beschwörungsserie Bīt Mēseri und die Himmelfahrt Henochs.“ JNES 33 (1974): 183–96. Brugger, Peter, Marianne Regard, and Theodor Landis. “Illusory Reduplication of One’s Own Body: Phenomenology and Classification of Autoscopic Phenomena.” Cognitive Neuropsychiatry 2/1 (1997): 19–38. DOI: 10.1080/135468097396397. Cavigneaux, Antoine. “Une version sumérienne de la légende d’Adapa (Textes de Tell Haddad X).” ZA 104 (2014): 1–41. Chen, Yi S. The Primeval Flood Catastrophe: Origins and Early Development in Mesopotamian Traditions. Oxford Oriental Monographs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Geller, Markham J. Healing Magic and Evil Demons: Canonical Udug-hul Incantations. With the Assistance of Luděk Vacín. Boston; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016. George, A.R. Babylonian Topographical Texts. OLA 40. Leuven: Peeters, 1992. George, A.R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts. 2 vols. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Himmelfarb, Martha. “Apocalyptic Ascent and the Heavenly Temple.” SBLSP 26 (1987): 210–17. Izre’el, Shlomo. Adapa and the South Wind. MC 10. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001. Jursa, Michael, and Céline Debourse. “A Babylonian Priestly Martyr, a King-like Priest, and the Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature.” WZKM 107 (2017): 77–98. Knibb, Michael A. The Ethiopic Book of Enoch: A New Edition in the Light of the Aramaic Dead Sea Fragments. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon, 1978. Kvanvig, Helge S. Roots of Apocalyptic: The Mesopotamian Background of the Enoch Figure and of the Son of Man. WMANT 61. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1988. Kvanvig, Helge S. “The Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch.” Pages 179–215 in Enoch and the Messiah Son of Man: Revisiting the Book of Parables. Edited by Gabriele Boccaccini. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007. Kvanvig, Helge S. Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic. JSJSup 149. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011. Lambert, W.G. “The Qualifications of Babylonian Diviners.” Pages 141–58 in Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994. Edited by Stefan M. Maul. Groningen: Styx, 1998. Lambert, W.G. Babylonian Creation Myths. MC 16. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013.

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McNamara, Patrick. The Neuroscience of Religious Experience. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. McNamara, Patrick. Dreams and Visions: How Religious Ideas Emerge in Sleep and Dreams. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2016. Orlov, Andrei. The Enoch-Metatron Tradition. TSAJ 107. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005. Orlov, Andrei. The Greatest Mirror: Heavenly Counterparts in the Jewish Pseudepigrapha. New York: SUNY Press, 2017. Winkelman, Michael. Shamanism: A Biopsychosocial Paradigm of Consciousness and Healing. 2nd edition. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2010.

How 4QAstronomical Enocha–b (4Q208–209) Transformed Elements of Late Babylonian Magical Hemerological Texts into a Synchronistic Calendar Helen R. Jacobus

In view of the heterogenous nature of Judean society in the late Second Temple period, the study of the Aramaic calendars at Qumran is important for our understanding of potentially diverse theological interests and traditions amongst different groups in early Judaism. The purpose of this contribution is to locate these Second Temple Aramaic texts within a wider cultural nexus in the ancient Near East including calendar traditions and astrology, and how these intersected with magic and the use of the zodiac in Mesopotamia.1 I explore and compare the relationship between the Aramaic calendars from Qumran and a group of ancient Near Eastern texts that use the calendar and astrology for the purposes of magic. In particular, I compare the Aramaic texts 4QAstronomical Enocha–b (4Q208–209) with what I argue is a related Late Babylonian magical text, that is part of both a diachronic and a synchronic corpus of parallel Mesopotamian magical texts. This is the hemerological tablet BRM IV, no. 19, from Uruk, dating from the Hellenistic and Persian periods.2 It is one of a group of closely related, and parallel texts from 1

Selected broad discussions on theological diversity in the Second Temple period include: Michael E. Stone, Ancient Judaism: New Visions and Views (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011); John J. Collins, “Beyond the Qumran Community: Social Organization in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 16 (2009): 351–69; and some overviews of the classification of the Aramaic scrolls, Devorah Dimant, “Themes and Genres in the Aramaic Texts from Qumran,” in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008, ed. Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra, STDJ 94 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 15–45; Daniel A. Machiela, “The Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls: Coherence and Context in the Library of Qumran,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran and the Concept of a Library, ed. Sidnie White Crawford and Cecilia Wassen, STDJ 116 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016), 244–60. 2 A. Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst und Astrologie in Babylonien,” AfO 14 (1941–44): 251–84, discussion on two tablets from the J. Pierpont Morgan Library BRM IV, nos. 19 and 20 (MLC 1886 and 1859, respectively [Morgan Library Collection]), published by Albert T. Clay in Babylonian Records in the Library of J. Pierpont Morgan [BRM]. Part IV: Epics, Hymns, Omens and Other Texts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1923)

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Sultantepe, Babylon and Uruk that are linked to incantation series to be performed on specified days of the year and/or related astrologically auspicious times. Depending on the interpretation, the rituals in these compendia include provoking love magic, apparently killing a person, causing physical and mental harm, and conversely: exorcism and neutralizing such spells. Scholars seem to be divided as to whether all the incantations referred to are apotropaic, or whether they are mainly sorcerous. I argue that, whatever their intention (which is not the focus of this study), it is likely that a cultural memory of these calendrical-astrological magical texts is reflected in the development of the calendar of 4Q208–209, and that, furthermore, their esoteric knowledge is echoed in the myth of the rebellious angels found in 4Q201, 4Q202 and 4Q204, preserved in the Ethiopic Book of Enoch, in 1 En. 6:7, 8:3. 4Q208 was dated by Józef T. Milik paleographically to the late 3rd century BCE or the early 2nd century BCE, and it is understood to be one of the earliest of the Dead Sea Scrolls.3 4Q209 is dated to 30 BCE to 70 CE, described as “Herodian” by Milik.4 While 4Q208, the earlier copy, probably consisted of the synchronistic calendar by itself,5 4Q209 is materially part of the same manuscript containing the narrative of Enoch’s guided cosmological journey. Neither 4Q208 nor 4Q209 appears in the Book of Luminaries (1 En. 72–82), however, [abbreviated: BRM IV], BRM IV, 19: 256–58, 274–75, 278–81 (the last in comparison with BRM IV, 20); John Z. Wee, “Virtual Moons over Babylonia: The Calendar Text System, Its Micro-Zodiac of 13, and the Making of Medical Zodiology,” in The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World, ed. John M. Steele, Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 6 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016), 168–71 (abbreviated translated edition); Markham J. Geller, Melothesia in Babylonia: Medicine, Magic and Astrology in the Ancient Near East, STMAC 2 (Boston; Berlin; Munich: De Gruyter, 2014), 40–41 (edition of BRM IV, 19 without translation). 3 Józef T. Milik, The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1976), 273. Milik’s assessment agrees with the earliest end of the dating range by radiocarbon dating, Henryk Drawnel, The Aramaic Astronomical Book (4Q208–4Q211) from Qumran: Text, Translation and Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon, 2011), 73; A.J. Timothy Jull, Douglas J. Donahue, Magen Broshi, and Emanuel Tov, “Radiocarbon Dating of Scrolls and Linen Fragments from the Judean Desert,” Radiocarbon 37 (1995): 11–19, at 12, 14; cf. Israel Carmi, “Radiocarbon Dating of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Fifty Years After Their Discovery, ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and the Shrine of the Book, 2000), 881–88, gives the earliest date in the calibration curve as the late 2nd century BCE. 4 Milik, Books of Enoch, 273–74; Drawnel, Aramaic Astronomical Book, 135. 5 Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar, “Some Remarks on the Book of Watchers, the Priests, Enoch and Genesis, and 4Q208,” Henoch 24 (2002): 143–45; Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar and Florentino García Martínez, “208–209,” in Stephen J. Pfann et al., Qumran Cave 4.XXVI: Cryptic Texts; Philip S. Alexander et al., Miscellanea, Part 1, DJD XXXVI (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000), 95.

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1 En. 73:1–3, 4–8 arguably contain abbreviated sections from 4Q209, although there is no scholarly consensus on this.6

I. The Relevance of the Teachings of the Watcher-Angels Some of the rituals listed in the related sources from Mesopotamia find an echo in themes connected with the teachings of a group of rebellious angels, led by Asael, in the Aramaic fragments of the “Book of the Watchers” (partly extant in 1 En. 1–36). Their skills are preserved in two manuscripts, 4QEna (4Q201), possibly dating from the first half of the 2nd century but with orthographic indications, including archaized letters. This indicates that it was made from a very old copy, “dating from the third century at the very least,”7 and 4QEnb (4Q202), which Milik dates to the first half, or to the middle of the 2nd century BCE.8 In particular, the literary sections of 4Q201 iii 15–16, iv 1–4//4Q202 ii 19– 20, iii 1–5 (//1 En. 7:1d, 8:3)9 contain divinatory skills pertaining to the sorcerous and apotropaic magic of the teacher-angels Shemiḥazah and Ḥermoni, respectively, which are, arguably, reflected in the Mesopotamian magicalhemerological texts to be discussed.10 The angels of divination perform six types of prognostication from meteorological and astronomical omens; they are grouped after Asael who taught men the warcrafts of metalwork, goldsmithing, creating silver jewellery and other objects for women, and to women, kohl and eye painting, expertise in precious stones, and dyes.11 The octet of the teacher-angels of the mantic arts, from Shemiḥazah12 to Sahriel,13 are separated textually and materially in the 6 Drawnel, Aramaic Astronomical Book, 260–85, 410–11 (Pattern II, not Pattern I, as published), 446–47; James C. VanderKam, in George W.E. Nickelsburg and idem, 1 Enoch 2: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 37–82, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2012), 429–39, cf. 438–39, contra Drawnel; George W.E. Nickelsburg and James C. VanderKam, 1 Enoch – A New Translation: Based on the Hermeneia Commentary (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2004), 100–1. 7 Milik, Books of Enoch, 141. 8 Ibid., 164. 9 Ibid. (4Q201:1 iii 15, 23–1 iv 4), 150–51 (//4Q202: 1 ii 19–20, iii 1–5), 166–67, 170– 71. 10 See also, Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition [abbreviated: DSSSE], 2 vols. (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 1997, 1998), 1:400–3, 404–7, 412–13. 11 4Q202 ii 26–29//1 En. 8:1. 12 The first, or chief, ‫ראשהן‬, in 4Q201 iii 6//4Q202 ii 5//4Q204 ii 24//1 En. 6:7 who taught spells and root-cutting 4Q201 iv 1a; 4Q202 iii 1b//1En. 8:3a. 13 The sixteenth in this passage 4Q201 iii 11, 4Q204 ii 28, who taught the signs of the moon 4Q201 iv 4; 4Q202 iii 4//1 En. 8:3h.

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manuscripts from the crafts of Asael in 4Q202 iii.14 Arguably, the skills of the angels of divination are reflected in the ancient Near Eastern astrological incantation texts, below. The vocabulary of interest with regards to the mantic content of the Mesopotamian magical texts to be discussed is contained in the following extracts from the Aramaic texts:15 .[‫חרשה ו]כשפה ומקטע שרשין ולאחויה להן עסבין‬ˑ ‫ ולאלפה אנין‬4Q201 iii 15 and to teach them sorcery16 and [witchcraft, and cutting the roots17; and they showed them herbs].

‫ר]ו ומקטע שרשין חרמני אלף חרש למשרא‬ˑ ‫ אלף חב‬18‫ שמי חזה‬:4Q201 iv 1 Shemiḥazah taught magic spell[s19 and cutting roots. Ḥermoni taught sorcery to untie]20 14 Named in construct form with ‫נחש‬, Milik, Books of Enoch, 159–60; Edward M. Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 155. George W.E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81– 108, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2001), 188–201. (The angelic teachings are not extant at all in 4Q204//1 En. 7:1d, 8:3; Asael’s skills are not extant in 4Q201.) 15 Transcription and translation, Milik, Books of Enoch, 157–58, 170–71; García Martínez and Tigchelaar, DSSSE, 1:402. (Note, the text of 4Q201 iv 1–4//1 En. 8:3 comprises a new column with a top margin, beginning with “Shemiḥazah taught …” Milik, Books of Enoch, 157–58. In 4Q202 iii 1b//1 En. 8:2 (not included below) the introduction to Shemiḥazah’s teachings and the other seven angels in this group is preceded by: “[And there was much wickedness] …” Restoration: Milik, Books of Enoch, 170–71, beginning a new column. 16 Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic, 91, s.v. ‫חרש‬, “to do magic,” translated as “to teach them sorcery” 4Q201 1 iii 15//4Q202 1 ii 19. Here the meaning appears to refer to negative magic as it is combined with ‫“ כשפה‬spellbinding,” or “witchcraft” (ibid., 120). As the phrase is repeated for Ḥermoni’s teaching of sorcery, ‫ חרש‬to loosen or untie ‫למשרא‬ ‫כשפה‬, “witchcraft,” is probably more accurate, with “magic” and “errors” (of magic?) ‫ כ [שפו וחרטמו ותוש]ין‬4Q201 1 iv 1–2//4Q202 1 iii 2. ‫ חרש‬is, therefore, possibly a flexible term for performing magic, spells and rituals that can be either negative, or apotropaic. 17 Given the textual context with witchcraft, “root cutting,” is also portrayed as a prohibited practice. However, there is a case to be made that the angels were teaching herbalbased healing linked to astrology, and that this was forbidden knowledge. For the background to herbal medical knowledge in Second Temple Judaism, see Joan E. Taylor, The Essenes, the Scrolls, and the Dead Sea (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 304–40. 18 Cf. 4Q202 iii 1: (Milik, Books of Enoch, 170): ‫( שמיחז ]ה‬one word; final he only restored) 19 Or, “spell-binding,” Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic, 75, s.v. ‫חבר‬, “magic spell” (4Q201 1 iv 1//4Q202 1 ii 19–20). In a couplet with root-cutting, Shemiḥazah’s spells are presented as negative, although, as noted above, the text does not suggest that the spells are physically harmful (compare the explicit nature of some arguably dangerous spells in the ancient Near Eastern astrological-sorcerous texts), but that they should not be taught to humans. 20 Cf. García Martínez and Tigchelaar, DSSSE 1:402, restore a yod and final nun to ‫ חבר ]ין‬where Milik has a vav, and they restore a vav to Ḥermoni ‫ חרמוני‬where Milik has none (4Q201 iv 1, 4Q202 1–2).

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[‫ ]כ[שפו וחרטמו ותוש]ין ברקאל אלף נחשי ברקין כוכבאל אלף‬:2 w[itchcraft] and magic and error[s. Baraqel taught omens of the lightnings.21 Kokhabel taught]

‫ אלף נחשי זיקין ארעתקף אלף נחשי ארע‬22‫חשי כוכבין זיקא]ל‬ˑ [‫ ]נ‬:3 [o]mens of the stars; Ziqe[l taught omens of the shooting stars; Arʿtaqoph taught omens of the earth] [‫ש ֯ה]ר וכלהן שריו‬ˑ [‫מ]ש שהריאל אלף נחשי‬ˑ ‫ ]שמ[שיאל אלף נחשי ש‬:4 [Sham]shiel taught omens of [the] su[n. Sahriel taught omens of the] mo[on. And they all …]

It is possible that indirect knowledge of Late Babylonian hemerological systems pertaining to astral magic influenced this narrative. Knowledge about recorded Babylonian witchcraft and ritualistic practices could be transformed and manifested into mythologized cultural memory, or wisdom, such as Ḥermoni’s skill in the loosening of spells. The skills of the angels of divination, thereby reflected magical and astrological practices described in the Mesopotamian texts. My suggested reconstruction of the Aramaic calendar of 4Q208–209 will be given before comparing it structurally to the Late Babylonian text BRM IV, 19. First, the brief astronomical context is presented.

II. Astronomical Background The zodiac signs are artificial creations comprising 30 degrees of the ecliptic, named after the unequal-sized zodiacal constellations, which were shaped by prominent fixed stars on their imaginary boundaries.23 Its “underlying schematic calendar” by which solar months are aligned with the zodiac signs, is dated to about 400 BCE, or the late 5th century BCE.24 Using an ideal 360day year calendar, one could know the day of the month by the moon’s phase.

Milik, Books of Enoch, 158, 171 translates ‫ ברקין‬as “thunders,” Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic, 40 as “lightnings.” 22 Cf. García Martínez and Tigchelaar, DSSSE 1:402: ‫ ;זי}כ{קא]ל‬Cf. 4Q202 iii 3: [……‫]זיקיאל‬, Milik, Books of Enoch, 170 (restored); García Martínez and Tigchelaar, DSSSE 1:407 (restored). 23 Bartel L. van der Waerden, “History of the Zodiac,” AfO 16 (1952–53): 216–30, esp. 218; Francesca Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 126–31; John M. Steele, Rising Time Schemes in Babylonian Astronomy (Cham, Switzerland: Springer, 2017), 17–18. 24 John P. Britton, “Studies in Babylonian Lunar Theory: Part III. The Introduction of the Uniform Zodiac,” Archive of the History of the Exact Sciences 64 (2010): 639, 646, 649. 21

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The phase of the moon informs us of the day of the month in the schematic Babylonian calendar, beginning with the first crescent on Day 1. The 360-day schematic calendar is close to actuality and it is based on the Standard Mesopotamian luni-solar calendar in order to function.25 The twelve months of the signs of the zodiac begin when the sun is in Aries at the spring, or vernal, equinox. The sun appears to move on the ecliptic, or zodiacal belt, at 1º per day, apparently travelling through 360º comprising the twelve signs of the zodiac in a year, with each zodiacal month consisting of 30 days.26 As the moon moves on average 13º each day close to the zodiacal belt it circuits the twelve zodiac signs (and the first sign that it moved through, again, hence, thirteen signs) in each schematic, synodic 30-day month. It takes about two and a half days for the moon to travel through each zodiac sign.

III. Calendrical Hypothesis I have proposed that the Aramaic calendars 4QAstronomical Enocha–b (4Q208–209) and 4QZodiac Calendar [and 4QBrontologion] (4Q318)27 represent functioning schematic calendars and that they belong to a simple, ideal scheme, derived from Babylonian astronomy, as described. According to my hypothesis, the pattern in 4Q208–209 is similar to the formulaic pattern in 4QZodiac Calendar in 4Q318, in which the zodiac signs correspond to the days of the month in the text.

25

This hypothesis is similar to the statements by John M. Steele and Lis Brack-Bernsen that in the ideal 360-day calendar the moon’s position in the zodiac corresponded to a date in the calendar (which began in Aries), Lis Brack-Bernsen and John M. Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics: Two Mathematical Astronomical-Astrological Texts,” in Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, ed. Charles Burnett et al. (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004), 95–121. It was intended as a template from which “calculations could be made that could then be mapped onto the actual luni-solar calendar” (Steele, Rising Time Schemes, 10). 26 See, the astronomical model in Ulla Koch-Westenholz, Mesopotamian Astrology: An Introduction to Babylonian and Assyrian Celestial Divination (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 1995), 24–26. 27 The critical edition of 4Q318 is: Jonas C. Greenfield and Michael Sokoloff, with Ada Yardeni and David Pingree, “318: 4QZodiology and Brontology ar,” in DJD XXXVI (2000), 259–74; see also, Matthias Albani, “Der Zodiakos in 4Q318 und die HenochAstronomie,” Mitteilungen und Beiträge der Forschungsstelle Judentum der Theologischen Fakultät Leipzig 7 (1993): 3–42; Helen R. Jacobus, 4Q318 Zodiac Calendar and Brontologion Reconsidered and Implications for the Aramaic Astronomical Book of Enoch and a Medieval Calendar Text, Ph.D. diss., University of Manchester, 2011; eadem, Zodiac Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Their Reception: Ancient Astronomy and Astrology in Early Judaism, IJS Studies in Judaica 14 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2014), 44–51, 168–76 (Table 1.7.3).

4QAstronomical Enocha-b (4Q208–209)

89

Based on the text in 1 Enoch 72, in 4Q208–209 the “gates” begin with the fourth “gate” at the spring equinox. The six “gates” of the sun and the moon represent two cognate zodiac signs, as follows: Gate 4: Aries and Virgo; Gate 5: Taurus and Leo; Gate 6: Gemini and Cancer; Gate 1: Sagittarius and Capricorn; Gate 2: Scorpio and Aquarius; Gate 3: Libra and Pisces.28 The numbers from Gate 1 represent the signs that are equidistant from the winter solstice. The schematic pattern for 4Q208–209 is based on the textual formula in the largest fragment (4Q209 7 ii–iii corresponding to Month IX, days 22–27 [col. ii] and Month X, days 8–10 [col. iii]), first published by Milik, and later supported by smaller fragments published later by Tigchelaar and García Martínez, and Drawnel.29 According to my reconstruction of 4Q208–209 based on the extant fragments and the data that includes the gate numbers, and hence the zodiac signs, the calendar of 4Q208–209 commences when the moon is in Aries, see Table 1.30 When 4Q208–209 is laid out in a tabular format, it can be seen that the moon is ahead by one zodiac sign per month on the same day of the month in consecutive months. So, for example, on Month IV, Day 8, the moon is in Libra, and a month later, on Month V, Day 8, the moon is in Scorpio, and so on. As shown in Table 1, 4Q208–209 (like 4QZodiac Calendar) is a 360-day ideal calendar. It may have been intended to have been a perpetual calendar. We now move onto the Babylonian magical-calendrical texts.

28 Helen R. Jacobus, “Astral Divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Hellenistic Astronomy: The Science in Its Context, ed. Alan C. Bowen and Francesca Rochberg, Brill’s Companions in Classical Studies (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020), 545. 29 Milik, Books of Enoch, 278–80. The reconstruction is for a single year in the lunisolar cycle. Tigchelaar and García Martínez, “208. 4QAstronomical Enocha ar” and “209 4QAstronomical Enochb ar,” in DJD XXXVI (2000), 104–171; Drawnel, Aramaic Astronomical Book, 71–208 (4Q209 7, 159–165). Jacobus, “Astral Divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” 545–48. See also, eadem, “Reconstructing the Calendar of 4Q208–4Q209 (and a response to Eshbal Ratzon),“ RevQ 31/114 (2019): 251–73. 30 Brack-Bernsen and Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics,” 112–19.

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1 2 3 4 5

I Aries 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem

II Tau 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can

III Ge 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo

IV Ca 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir

V Leo 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib

VI Vir 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 (14) (15) 16 17 18

6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor

6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag

5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap

4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq

3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces

2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries

19 20

1 Sag 1 Sag

1 Cap 1 Cap

2 Aq 2 Aq

3 Pisces 3 Pisces

4 Aries 4 Aries

5 Tau 5 Tau

21 22 23 24 25

1 Cap 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq

2 Aq 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces

3 Pisces 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries

4 Aries 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau

5 Tau 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem

6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can

26 27

3 Pisces 3 Pisces

4 Aries 4 Aries

5 Tau 5 Tau

6 Gem 6 Gem

6 Can 6 Can

5 Leo 5 Leo

28

4 Aries

5 Tau

6 Gem

6 Can

5 Leo

4 Vir

29 30

4 Aries 4 Aries

5 Tau

6 Gem 6 Gem

6 Can

5 Leo 5 Leo

4 Vir

Table 1: 4Q208–209 reconstructed with the gate numbers and their equivalent zodiac signs. The months are numbered I to XII with their corresponding zodiac signs (top row). The extant fragments, with preserved gate numbers in boldface, are shaded.

91

4QAstronomical Enocha-b (4Q208–209)

1 2 3 4 5

VII Li 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag

VIII Sc 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap

IX Sag 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq

X Cap 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces

XI Aq 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries

XII Pisces 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 (14) (15) 16 17 18

1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap 1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau

1 Cap 2 Aq 2 Aq 2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem

2 Aq 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can

3 Pisces 4 Aries 4 Aries 4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo

4 Aries 5 Tau 5 Tau 5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir

5 Tau 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Gem 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib

19 20

6 Gem 6 Gem

6 Can 6 Can

5 Leo 5 Leo

4 Vir 4 Vir

3 Lib 3 Lib

2 Scor 2 Scor

21 22 23 24 25

6 Can 6 Can 6 Can 5 Leo 5 Leo

5 Leo 5 Leo 5 Leo 4 Vir 4 Vir

4 Vir 4 Vir 4 Vir 3 Lib 3 Lib

3 Lib 3 Lib 3 Lib 2 Scor 2 Scor

2 Scor 2 Scor 2 Scor 1 Sag 1 Sag

1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Sag 1 Cap 1 Cap

26 27

4 Vir 4 Vir

3 Lib 3 Lib

2 Scor 2 Scor

1 Sag 1 Sag

1 Cap 1 Cap

2 Aq 2 Aq

28

3 Lib

2 Scor

1 Sag

1 Cap

2 Aq

3 Pisces

29 30

3 Lib 3 Lib

2 Scor

1 Sag 1 Sag

1 Cap

2 Aq 2 Aq

3 Pisces

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Helen R. Jacobus

IV. A Common Mesopotamian Background Both 4Q208–209 and 4Q318 appear to be related to an overall system found mainly in Late Babylonian astrological texts which involve what is loosely termed the “micro-zodiac.” There are several variations of these but only those that are relevant will be discussed. Texts may be divided into twelve or thirteen whole, or macro-zodiacal, signs which are sub-divided into twelve or thirteen minor parts of the zodiac. These are termed, respectively: the “microzodiac of 12” or the “micro-zodiac of 13.”31 The micro-zodiac of 12 and 13 also uses the schematic 360-day year that assumes that the sun moves at an average speed of 1° per day, thus it takes 360 days composed of twelve 30-day months for the sun to circuit the zodiacal belt. Where the months are explicitly used they correspond to equivalent zodiac signs in the same sequential order as the months.32 In the “microzodiac of 13,” 30-day months with corresponding zodiac signs are divided into 13 zodiacal sub-divisions. Each day in the calendar aligns with a position of the moon in the zodiac. This scheme reflects the mean motion of the moon of 13° per day and its monthly synodic revolution around the earth. The “micro-zodiac of 12” refers to the sub-division of each monthly sign of the zodiac into twelve equal micro-parts of 2.5° each, that is, a twelfth of a zodiacal sign (2.5° x 12 = 30°).33 It is not present in the Aramaic Qumran calendars. 31 Terms from Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 139–229. See also, M. Willis Monroe, “The Micro-Zodiac in Babylon and Uruk: Seleucid Zodiacal Astrology,” in The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World, ed. John M. Steele, Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 6 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016), 119–38; Steele, Rising Time Schemes, 105–9. Lis Brack-Bernsen and Hermann Hunger, “The Babylonian Zodiac: Speculations in its invention and significance,” Centaurus 41 (1999): 280–92; Jacobus, Zodiac Calendars, 63–83. 32 Erica Reiner, Astral Magic in Babylonia, TAPS vol. 85, Part 4 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1995), 115–16; Francesca Rochberg, “A Babylonian Rising-Times Scheme in Non-Tabular Astronomical Texts,” in Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, ed. Charles Burnett et al. (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004), 56– 94; Norbert A. Roughton, John M. Steele, and Christopher B.F. Walker, “A Late Babylonian Normal and Ziqpu Star Text,” Archive for the History of Exact Sciences 58 (2004): 537–72. 33 Examples of the “micro-zodiac of 12” include some tablets in the late Babylonian astrological series, the Gestirn-Darstellungen texts, which attribute various plants, trees, stones and cities and temples to lists of micro-zodiac sign pertaining to a day and month. A similar system is used in VAT 7816 and VAT 7815, edited by Bartel L. van der Waerden, in Ernst Weidner, Gestirn-Darstellungen auf babylonischen Tontafeln, Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 254/2 (Vienna: Hermann Böhlaus Nachf., 1967), 41–50 (summary, 50); VAT 7847 + AO 6448, Weidner, ibid., 15– 33, LBAT 1580 (Text 3), Weidner, ibid., 34–38; Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 159–60, 178. SpTU IV, 167, Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 160, 183, 187; Egbert von Weiher, Spätbabyloni-

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The micro-zodiac sign may be written as “x,” the zodiac sign name of the zodiacal subdivision of “Y,” the zodiac sign name of the whole zodiac sign that has been divided into 12 or 13 parts. So, a micro-zodiac sign may be written out as the “x of Y” (for example, [micro-]Pisces of Scorpio). The numerals in the texts representing the Babylonian zodiac signs and the twelve schematic months of 30 days, correspond with the zodiacal order, for example, Scorpio, the 8th sign of the zodiac, corresponds with Month VIII. Therefore, the month and its corresponding sign are both represented by the numeral eight, a practice which is well attested in Babylonian astrological texts.34 The day of the month is also a number, for example, the 10th day of the month would be represented by the number 10. The micro-zodiac sign for day 10 of Month VIII is Pisces, the 12th sign of the zodiac, and is, accordingly, represented by the numeral 12. Whereas the whole sign of the month has the same numeral for the duration of one month (Month VIII in our example), the micro-zodiac sign changes every two to three days. The degree of the micro-zodiac sign, known as dodekatemoria degrees, changes daily in increments of 13° (the mean daily movement of the moon) in sche Texte aus Uruk IV (Berlin: Mann, 1993). Hermann Hunger, “How to Make the Gods Speak: A Late Babylonian Tablet Related to the Microzodiac,” in Studies Presented to Robert D. Biggs June 4, 2004, ed. Martha T. Roth et al., AS 27; From the Workshop of the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary 2 (Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2007), 141–51 (BM 33535); Nils P. Heeßel, “Stein, Pflanze und Holz: Ein neuer Text zur ‘medizinischen Astrologie,’” Or 74 (2005): 1–22. It is also related to lists of dates and micro-zodiac signs for the most effective days for spells, rituals, or to make medicinal potions, for example, days advocating using the blood, fat, oil, hair, skin, or other body part of an animal, etc. (related to that day’s lunar zodiac sign), either literally, or more likely, symbolically. Reiner, Astral Magic in Babylonia, 116–18. Since it is unlikely that many of the exotic and bizarre ingredients were actually available, Steele suggests that the medicine contained elements of alternative “Dreckapotheke,” substitutes derived from herbs and plants which had been given code names, in John M. Steele, “Astronomy and culture in Late Babylonian Uruk,” in Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy: Building Bridges between Cultures. Proceedings of the International Astronomical Union and the “Oxford IX” International Symposium on Archaeoastronomy, ed. Clive Ruggles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 331–41, esp. 336–38. Illnesses and misfortunes could be associated with the moon’s appearance in a specific sign of the zodiac, see, “Fragment C” Obv III C16’–C21’ (C 19’ has a parallel in LBAT 1597 obv. 6’) in John M. Steele, “A Late Babylonian Compendium of Calendrical and Stellar Astrology,” JCS 67 (2015): 187–215, at 208, the texts discussed are of the “micro-zodiac of 12” type; Geller, Melothesia, 82–88. 34 Rochberg, The Heavenly Writing, 129; Brack-Bernsen and Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics,” 102; Lis Brack-Bernsen, “The Path of the Moon, the Rising Points of the Sun, and the Oblique Great Circle and the Celestial Sphere,” Centaurus 45 (2003): 16–31, esp. 24–26; John M. Steele, “Celestial Measurement in Babylonian Astronomy,” Annals of Science 64 (2007): 293–325, esp. 303; JoAnn Scurlock, “Sorcery in the Stars: STT 300, BRM 4.19–20 and the Mandaic Book of the Zodiac,” AfO 51 (2005–2006): 125–46, esp. 127.

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a repeated sequence throughout the zodiac. In the “micro-zodiac of 13” the final sign is the same as the first (as the months are synodic). The relatively high number of scribal errors in BRM IV, 19 indicates that it was not difficult for the ancient copyist to lose track of the interchangeable month-number/ month-name, zodiac sign name/formula. Thus, the daily sequence of dodekatemoria degrees for one schematic month of 30 days in increments of thirteen degrees are: 13°, 26°, 9°, 22°, 5°, 18°, 1°, 14°, 27°, 10°, 23°, 6°, 19°, 2°, 15°, 28°, 11°, 24°, 7°, 20°, 3°, 16°, 29°, 12°, 25°, 8°, 21°, 4°, 17° and 30°. The degrees appear as numbers from one to 30 without the text stating that these numbers are zodiacal degrees of signs (grouped in a pattern of two days and three days).35 An entry in the magico-hemerological cuneiform text for a recommended day for an action expresses the calendar date in the form of the number of the month, the number of the day of the month, the number of the equivalent micro-zodiac sign and the first degree of the micro-sign on that day. The degree of a micro-zodiac sign in BRM IV, 19 is connected to the degree of another micro-zodiac sign through a simple arithmetical procedure whereby “x” is linked to a second micro-zodiac sign, “x2,” known as its dodekatemorion.36 The purpose appears to be to multiply the most favourable time for performing a ritual, as the calendrical micro-zodiac sign only exists for two or three days in each month in the schematic calendar. The second dodekatemorion, is not linked to a specific month, and the procedure is not relevant to the Aramaic Qumran calendars discussed here. There is also an alternative Late Babylonian scheme whereby each day in the 360-day schematic calendar is assigned a position in the zodiac that increases by 277° daily, known as the “Kalendertexte” or Calendar Texts.37 However, our

35

See also Brack-Bernsen and Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics,” 119 (Table 8). For arithmetical computations, see, Scurlock, “Sorcery in the Stars,” 127; Maria Cristina Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects in a Neo-Assyrian Medical Hemerology,” SAAB 14 (2005): 82–84; Francesca Rochberg, “Elements of the Babylonian Contribution to Hellenistic Astrology,” JAOS 108 (1988): 57–58. Otto Neugebauer and Abraham Sachs, “The ‘Dodekatemoria’ in Babylonian Astrology,” AfO 16 (1952–53): 65– 66; Koch-Westenholz, Mesopotamian Astrology, 168–70. 37 Brack-Bernsen and Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics,” 98–119; Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 140–43, 143–46; Lis Brack-Bernsen, “The 360-Day Year in Mesopotamia,” in Calendars and Years: Astronomy and Time in the Ancient Near East, ed. John M. Steele (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2007), 83–100, esp. 94: “Sometimes the [twelve 30-day month] scheme would have a day more than the real month; but of course, the Kalendertext-scheme could still be used to determine a zodiacal position for each day of the real calendar.” Steele, “Astronomy and culture in Late Babylonian Uruk,” 336: “The numerical scheme associated days in the schematic calendar of twelve 30-day months totalling 360 days with position in the zodiac. Each day of the year corresponds to a unique position in the zodiac … Because the schematic calendar contains 360 days and the zodiac 360º, the mean position 36

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interest is only in those texts where the numbers next to the zodiac signs are shown to increase daily by 13° rather than other micro-zodiac forms since there are no counterparts for the 277° model in any of the Qumran fragments. The astronomical basis of both schemes is the same. BRM IV, 19 is mainly a calendrical ritual and spell text that lists auspicious dates for rituals by denoting a row of four numerals in two pairs representing the month and day, the micro-zodiac sign and the degree. The micro-zodiac sign is written out in full, following the numerals.38 The sequence represented in BRM IV, 19 is: (1) The month number, synonymous with the zodiacal sign of the month, Month I or Month II, etc. (2) The day of the month (3) The number of the micro-zodiac sign (4) The degree of the micro-zodiac sign, which increases incrementally by 13° per day up to 30° per whole or macro-zodiac sign in a repeated sequence for twelve months of 30 days each. The writing of the micro-zodiac sign in the text is followed by the technical term ZI, translated as “travelled distance,” or “velocity,” meaning the distance from one position to the next, and the term completes each entry. Rochberg states that the term ZI appears frequently in Seleucid astronomical texts.39 (A concluding term for each entry does not exist in the Qumran fragments. However, in 4Q209 7 ii–iii, the largest fragment of 4Q209, there is a blank space before each calendrical day, coinciding with the description of the moon’s movements on the preceding day, thereby indicating that that unit of information is completed.) The Mesopotamian dodekatemoria scheme is understood to be a predecessor of the Greek dodekatemoria procedures, which used two alternative arithmetical formulas. (Neugebauer and Sachs refer to the formulas as ‘Method A’ and ‘Method B,’ and they argue that ‘Method A’ must have Babylonian antecedents since it is related arithmetically to BRM IV, 19 and 20.40) in the zodiac is equal to the day in the schematic calendar (assuming that at the beginning of the year the sun is at the beginning of Aries).” 38 Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” discussion on two tablets from the J. Pierpont Morgan Library BRM IV, nos. 19 and 20 (MLC 1886 and 1859, respectively [Morgan Library Collection]), published by Clay in Babylonian Records in the Library of J. Pierpont Morgan, BRM IV, 19: 256–58, 274–75, 278–81 (the last comparing with BRM IV, 20); Wee, “Virtual Moons” (abbreviated translated edition), 168–71; Geller, Melothesia, BRM IV, 19, 40–41 (the edition without the translation which is given in BRM IV, 20, its parallel, ibid., 28–39). 39 Rochberg, “Elements,” esp. 58. 40 Neugebauer and Sachs, “The ‘Dodekatemoria’ in Babylonian Astrology”; Abraham Sachs, “Babylonian Horoscopes,” JCS 6 (1952): 72–73. See also, Rochberg, “Elements,” 57–60; Brack-Bernsen and Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics,” 102–4; Wee, “Virtual

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See Table 2 for the condensed and variant names of the signs of the zodiac as they appear in the writing of the micro-zodiac sign names in BRM IV, 19, with the equivalent months in numerals.41 Months I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII

Signs of the Zodiac Aries (LU) Taurus (TE.TE) Gemini (MĂS.MĂS) Cancer (SAL + DIŠ + U or KUŠU or ALLA) Leo (UR.A) Virgo (KI.DILI.DILI) Libra (RÍN) Scorpio (GÍR.TAB) Sagittarius (PA.BIL) Capricorn (MÁŠ) Aquarius (GU) Pisces (DILI.GÁN or IKU)

Table 2: Numerals for the months and their corresponding zodiac signs with abbreviated and variant zodiac sign names used in BRM IV, 19

Moving onto the texts, this example is a translated extract from BRM IV, 19 (MLC 1886), see Table 3.42 Obv. Lines 5–6 (part-restored): IX 21. That whoever sees you, stretches out his finger to you for good intentions. IX 21; VI 3: (micro-)Virgo of Sagittarius …43

All the hemerological dates in BRM IV, 19, with Ungnad’s line numbering, restorations and his notes of any ancient scribal errors are listed in Table 3. In the example BRM IV, 19 obv. 5–6, the month and day numerals are entered: first, as a pair in numerals (On Month IX [Sagittarius], Day 21). This is followed by the spell (“That whoever sees you, stretches out his finger for good intentions”). The month and day number are repeated together with the number of the micro-zodiac sign (VI) [Virgo] and the number 3 (3°), followed by the micro- and macro-zodiac signs written out: “Virgo of Sagittarius.” The Moons,” 143–213; Steele, “A Late Babylonian Compendium of Calendrical and Stellar Astrology,” 187–90. A. Bouché-Leclercq, L’astrologie grecque (Paris: Leroux, 1899), 300–5. 41 Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 256–57; see also Francesca Rochberg-Halton, “New Evidence for the History of Astrology,” JNES 42 (1984): 115–40, at 119, Table 1: Names of Zodiacal Constellations), repr. in Francesca Rochberg, In the Path of the Moon: Babylonian Celestial Divination and Its Legacy (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 31–64. 42 Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 274–75, 279. 43 Ibid., 274–81, transcription from Clay, comments, translation, notes; Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 168–71.

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writing out of this data in full confirms the information about the degree and the day of the month, that is, that 21/IX equates to 3° Virgo. A scribal error in any of the numbers or the words could be recognized, particularly as the day of the month is repeated. Lines 1 obv.

Month VIII

Day 10

Micro-sign XII

° 10°

Micro-macro sign written out (Micro-)Pisces of Scorpio

2–3

VIII

21

V

3°

(Micro-)Leo of Scorpio

4

IX

10

I

10°

(Micro-)Aries of Sagittarius

5–6

IX

21

VI

3°

(Micro-)Virgo of Sagittarius

7

X

10

II

10°

(Micro-)Taurus of Capricorn

8–9

X

21

VII

3°

(Micro-)Libra of Capricorn

10

XI

10

III

1°

(Micro-)Gemini of Aquarius

11

XI

21

VIII

3°

(Micro-)Scorpio of Aquarius

12

XII

27

XI

21°

(Micro-)Aquarius44 of Pisces

13

XII

28

XII

4°

(Micro-)Pisces of Pisces

14–15

XII

2945

XII

17°

(Micro-)Pisces46 of Pisces

16–19

I

21

X

3°

(Micro-)Capricorn of Aries

20–21 rev.

II47

12

VII

6°

(Micro-)Libra of Taurus

22–23

IV

12

IX

6°

(Micro-)Sagittarius of Cancer

24–25

V

29

V

17°

(Micro-)Leo48 of Leo

26–27

VI

24

IV

12°

(Micro-)Cancer of Virgo

28

VII

11

XI

23°49

(Micro-)Aquarius of Libra

29–32

VII

16

I

28°

(Micro-)Aries of Libra

33

VIII

18

III

24°

(Micro-)Gemini of Scorpio

34–37

VIII

21

V

3°

(Micro-)Leo of Scorpio

38

IX

12

II

6°

(Micro-)Taurus of Sagittarius

39–40

X

11

II

23°

(Micro-)Taurus of Capricorn

41 42

XI XII

27 3

X I

21° 9°

(Micro-)Capricorn of Aquarius (Micro-)Aries of Pisces

Table 3. BRM IV, 19: The list of dates and micro-zodiac signs. Col. 1: line numbers; Col. 2: the month; Col. 3: the day of the month; Col. 4. The number of the micro-zodiac according to its zodiacal order; Col. 5: the degree; Col. 6: the micro-macro zodiac sign written out in words

44

Scribal error: “Pisces.” Scribal error: “19” on the second entry. 46 Scribal error: “Aquarius.” 47 Scribal error: “IV” (Cancer) in the second entry. 48 Scribal error: “Virgo.” 49 Scribal error: “22.” 45

98

Helen R. Jacobus I Aries

II Tau

III Ge

IV Ca

V Leo

VI Vir

1

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

2

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

3

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

4

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

5

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

6

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

7

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

8

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

9

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

12

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

13

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

14

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

15

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

16

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

17

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

18

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

19

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

20

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

21

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

22

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

23

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

24

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

25

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

26

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

27

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

28

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

29

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

30

1 Aries

3 Gem

5 Leo

Table 4. 4Q208–209 as BRM IV, 19: Degrees in increments of 13° have been added to the reconstruction of 4Q208–209 (far right column). The zodiac signs that the moon circuits during the zodiacal month are numbered in their sequential order (instead of gate numbers). The zodiacal months (top row) are numbered I to XII, beginning with Month I, Aries.

99

4QAstronomical Enocha-b (4Q208–209) VII Li

VIII Sc

IX Sag

X Cap

IX Aq

XII Pi

Degrees

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

13°–26°

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

26°–9°

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

9°–22°

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

22°–5°

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

5°–18°

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

18°–1°

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

1°–14°

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

14°–27°

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

27°–10°

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

10°–23°

11 Aq

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

23°–6°

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6°–19°

12 Pi

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

19°–2°

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

2°–15°

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

15°–28°

1 Aries

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

28°–11°

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

11°–24°

2 Tau

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

24°–7°

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

7°–20°

3 Gem

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

20°–3°

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

3°–16°

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

16°–29°

4 Can

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

29°–12°

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

12°–25°

5 Leo

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

25°–8°

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

8°–21°

6 Vir

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

21°–4°

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

4°–17°

7 Lib

8 Scor

9 Sag

10 Cap

11 Aq

12 Pi

7 Lib

9 Sag

11 Aq

17°–30° 30°–13°

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Correspondences may be seen between the dates listed in BRM IV, 19 (with the editors’ restorations) and the reconstruction of 4Q208–209 in Table 1. For example, in Table 3, line 1, Day 10 of Month VIII is Pisces of Scorpio, in Table 1 of the Qumran texts, Day 10 of Month VIII is Pisces (Gate 3, which corresponds to Pisces). Further correspondences with 4Q208–209 are also evident in Table 4 in which the degrees of the full micro-zodiac in increments of 13° are added, and the same numbers are used for the zodiac signs in their order as they are in the Babylonian texts, from Aries (I) to Pisces (XII) instead of the gate numbers used in Table 1. For example, from Table 3, compare BRM IV, 19, lines 5–6: Month IX [Sagittarius], Day 21; micro-zodiac sign VI [Virgo] 3 (3°), with Table 4. Look under Month IX, Day 21: it equates to Virgo and 3°–16°, which corresponds with VI 3 in the magical-hemerological text for the same date.50 It may be argued that BRM IV, 19 is a “micro-zodiac of 13,”51 and that the days of the month in BRM IV, 19 are in a similar pattern of two and three days as my independent reconstruction of 4Q208–209. The spacing between the different calendrical dates for magical practices and their micro-zodiacal positions in BRM IV, 19 are the result of the astrological arithmetic to establish the dodekatemoria of the micro-zodiac sign,52 but notwithstanding the reasons for these dates it is possible to see that the entries in BRM IV, 19: the monthday and micro-macro sign, appear to reflect a similar model to 4Q208–209.53

V. Related Mesopotamian Texts BRM IV, 19 is a descendant and a zodiacal parallel to STT II, 300,54 a 7th century BCE pre-zodiacal text that contains favourable calendrical dates

50 The row of numbers represents: Month and the day of month; micro-zodiac sign and the degree (month-day; sign-degree). In comparison, in Steele, “A Late Babylonian Compendium,” 190, Fig. 1, the row of four numbers for each day of the 360-day year are arranged in order of: sign-degree, month-day. 51 Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 167. The Qumran arrangement is explicitly lunar. Wee argues that the micro-zodiac of BRM IV, 19 is solar (ibid., 171–76). 52 Detailed line by line (with comparable related texts), Scurlock, “Sorcery in the Stars,” 128–43. 53 So agreeing here with Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 163. 54 Editio princeps, see Oliver Robert Gurney and Peter Hulin, The Sultantepe Tablets, vol. II (London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 1964). Geller, Melothesia, STT II, 300, 47–50; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 65; Jean-Jacques Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie selon STT 2, 300,” in Et il y eut un esprit dans l’Homme: Jean Bottéro et la Mésopotamie, ed. Xavier Faivre, Brigitte Lion, and Cécile Michel (Paris: de Boccard, 2009), 75–81.

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for performing the same compendia of rituals as those in BRM IV, 19.55 STT II, 300 was excavated from the Neo-Assyrian city of Sultantepe, and is variously dated to 619 BCE, 621 BCE, or 616 BCE, depending on different scholarly dates of the eponym in its colophon.56 In this tablet the spells are entirely connected to the calendar not to the zodiac, which had not yet reached its final form. The rituals in these compendia include provoking erotic and love magic, witchcraft, killing a person, medical cures, and their opposite: undoing sorcery that caused injury, spiritual damage, or death. According to Glassner all the rituals in STT II, 300 are apotropaic, to exorcise and annul the black magic, not only those that state that they are spells for breaking a spell, or annulling sorcery.57 Both STT II, 300 and BRM IV, 19, contain a technical phrase, the “usual time” (ud.da.kám)58 along with the dates for which the rituals should be enacted. STT II, 300 is also related to BRM IV, 20,59 which has some of the same references to spells as STT II, 30060 and which are also almost identical to those in BRM IV, 19. The related text BRM IV, 20 uses some of the same micro-zodiac signs for the same rituals philologically as BRM IV, 19 without the accompanying calendrical dates or zodiacal degrees of the micro-signs that exist in BRM IV, 19. Some entries in BRM IV, 20 also have the dodekatemorion, the second micro-zodiac sign, without degrees, reached from the astrological arithmetical formula.61 These texts are further related to LBAT 1626, which has corresponding micro-zodiac signs for linguistically parallel rituals without calendrical dates, degrees, or the dodekatemorion; the astrologically-based rituals are grouped 55 Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 202–3; Geller, Melothesia, 27, 47–57; Scurlock, “Sorcery in the Stars,” 125–46 (Scurlock follows Ungnad’s line numbering of BRM IV, 19–20). 56 Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 205, n. 177; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 64. 57 Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie,” 75 (and in parentheses in the translated text for each ritual). 58 Geller, Melothesia, 35, n. 77, 47; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 75, states that the phrase is known as “representing the appropriate, i.e. the wellboding period of occurrence of astral phenomena.” 59 The spells are followed by a micro-zodiacal sign prefixed with the logogram “KI,” Wee translates this term as “with” (Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 152, n. 34, 155, n. 49; cf. Geller, Melothesia, 28–36: “in the region of”). 60 The view that the rituals in BRM IV, 20 are apotropaic, (cf. so Glassner with regards to STT II 2, 300) is held by Reiner, Astral Magic in Babylonia, 109; Geller disagrees: “One purpose of this text is on occasion to invoke black magic, rather than merely protect against it, or to counter the evil pre-emptively” (Geller, Melothesia, 27). 61 BRM IV, 20: Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 203–4; Geller, Melothesia, BRM IV, 20, 28–39, comparison with BRM IV, 19, 40–41 and in Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 259–74, 278– 82; comparisons between ST II 300, and BRM IV, 19–20 are detailed in Scurlock, “Sorcery in the Stars,” 125–46.

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together under the same micro-zodiac sign.62 The extract cited above, BRM IV, 19, lines 5–6, has parallels with the calendar or micro-zodiac in STT II, 300, rev. 32’–33’ (Geller’s line numbering), BRM IV, 20’, obv. 18, and LBAT 1626, rev. 4’ (comparisons with the data in the Qumran texts are given beneath the Mesopotamian texts in italics where the calendrical material is stated): STT II, 300, rev. 32’–33’ (rev. 5’) If in the month Kislimu (Month 9) … on Day 21 at the usual time (the spells/ rituals) for whoever looks at you to point [his] finger (at you) with good intentions [for] your benefit … it will be well.63 In 4Q208–209, on Month 9, Day 21 the moon is in the micro-zodiac sign, Virgo, see Table 1. BRM IV, 20, obv. 18 (The spells/rituals for) the one looking at you to point his finger to you for good intentions; region of The Furrow [(micro-)Virgo].64 LBAT 1626, rev. 4’ (The spells/rituals for) the one who] sees you to point the finger for good intentions [region of The Furrow (micro-Virgo)].65 The text has the auspicious days for different spells in the same micro-zodiac sign, or its dodekatemorion in groups of the same signs, with the groups organised in their zodiacal sequence. There are no dates or degrees; the spell at line 4 is parallel to that in STT II, 300 and BRM IV, 19 with possibly the same micro-zodiac sign in Virgo. Other texts which use spells with the micro-zodiac only without a date or degrees include SpTU V, 243, in which spells are listed in the consecutive 62

LBAT 1626: Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 204; Geller, Melothesia, 58–59. LBAT 1626, rev. 2’–3’–4’ lists spells in the region of micro-Virgo [4’ Virgo is reconstructed], LBAT 1626, rev. 5’ lists a spell in the region of micro-Capricorn. (Virgo and Capricorn are in a trine aspect to each other, that is, 120° apart, an astrological angle which is attested in Babylonian astrology, Rochberg, “Elements,” 60; eadem, The Heavenly Writing, 109.) 63 Geller, Melothesia, 49, 56; Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie,” 77, 80, Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 70–71, 75. 64 Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 203; Geller, Melothesia, 29, 33; Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 259, 265, 279, the last, showing parallel between BRM IV, 20 and BRM IV, 19. 65 Restoration of micro-zodiac sign Virgo, Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 204, cf. Geller, Melothesia, 58–59. Wee’s translation infers that the spell is for the cleansing of a river polluted by the guilt of the person who underwent the ordeal. Geller does not restore the micro-zodiac sign as Virgo but notes the comparison with BRM IV, 20, 18 (Melothesia, 58, n. 17). Reiner suggests it may be Capricorn, following BRM IV, 20, 11 (a spell for purification by the river ordeal in the region of micro-Capricorn), Astral Magic in Babylonia, 110, n. 495.

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order of the micro-zodiac signs, that is, first Aries, then Taurus, then Gemini, etc. (Leo, Virgo, obv. and Pisces, rev. are missing).66 As STT II, 300 predated the zodiac, the introduction of the micro-zodiacal system in the later tablets represents an addition layer of celestial timing, or as Geller suggests, the innovation of “astral magic.”67 The fact that spells and rituals in the nonzodiacal calendar-based text STT II, 300 reappeared in later, zodiacal sources with the micro-zodiac strongly suggests that the zodiac was a later addition to the practice of apotropaic magic and witchcraft in Mesopotamia. The invention of the zodiac itself was not integral to, nor the origin of prohibited magical practices in Judaism. This may go some way to explaining why some kinds of astrological prediction, or divination (for example, in 4Q318) retained its permitted status in late Second Temple Judaism while negative magic did not. In sum, the micro-zodiac with the dodekatemoria degrees and the calendar in BRM IV, 19 could be used to multiply the times that spells could be invoked. BRM IV, 20 used dodekatemorion to multiply the number of these cosmological opportunities and dispense with the calendar in the text. Further calendrical comparisons between 4Q208–209 and STT II, 300, BRM IV, 19–20 in Tables 1 and 4 are given below; see under the Month and the Day of the Month for the micro-zodiac sign in the tables. The corresponding dodekatemoria degree referenced as the fourth number in BRM IV, 19 appears as the initial degree in the Degrees column, on the right, in Table 4: STT II, 300, obv. 4’–6’ For “breaking a spell” (together with a list of other spells), (Day) 21 Nisannu (Month I).68 Table 1 (4Q208–209): Month I, Day 21, equates to micro-zodiac Capricorn.

66

SpTU V, 243, obv. 1–6, rev. 1–6: Wee “Virtual Moons,” 201, 205; Geller, Melothesia, 59–60; Egbert von Weiher, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk V (Mainz: Mann, 1998). Wee groups these five texts together as a series: STT II, 300 = MS A; BRM IV, 19 = MS B; BRM IV, 20 = MS C; LBAT 1626 = MS D; SpTU V, 243 = MS E. The extract cited above, BRM IV, 19, rev. 5’–6’ is paralleled with BRM IV, 20’, obv. 18, see Wee, “Virtual Moons,” 203; Geller, Melothesia, 29, 33; Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 259, 265, 279; LBAT 1626, rev. 4’; STT II, 300, rev. 32’–33’ (Geller, Melothesia, 56, 49). 67 Geller, Melothesia, 27. 68 Ibid., 29, n. 63, 46, 54; Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie,” 76, 78; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 64–65.

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BRM IV, 19, lines 16–19 (Month) I, (Day) 21. The full astronomical date for the same spell is: (Month) I, (Day) 21; (micro-sign) X, 3 (3°) (micro-)“Capricorn of Aries.”69 This equates to (Month 1) [Aries], Day 21; micro-Capricorn [10th zodiac sign] 3° of the micro-zodiac sign of Capricorn in macro-Aries. Table 4: Month I, Day 21, equates to micro-zodiac Capricorn [10th sign]. Degree: 3°–16° Capricorn. The moon is in Capricorn on Day 21 of Month I, which is cognate with Aries. BRM IV, 20, 26 (The spells for) “releasing sorcery,” region of Capricorn.70 The date in STT II, 300, obv. 4’–6’ matches that of BRM IV, 19, lines 16–19, whose micro-zodiac sign, Capricorn, is the same as that in BRM IV, 20, 26. The degree in BRM IV, 19 (3°) agrees with the initial degree 3°–16° on Month I, Day 21, when the moon is in Capricorn in Month I in Table 4.71 BRM IV, 19, line 12 (Month) XII, (Day) 27. Spells for “annulling witchcraft”: XII 27;72 (Microsign) XI 21 (21°). (Micro-)“Aquarius of Pisces” [scribal error: “of Aquarius”].73 Month XII is cognate with Pisces, Aquarius is the 11th sign; 21° of micro-Aquarius in macro-Pisces. Table 4: Month XII (equates to Pisces [12th sign]), Day 27; XI: (micro-) Aquarius [11th sign]. Degree: 21° Aquarius – 4° Pisces.

69

Geller, Melothesia, 40; Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 274, 277, 279–80 (line no. BRM IV, 19, 16–19). 70 Geller, Melothesia, 29, 34 and n. 63, notes the semantic difference between witchcraft and sorcery, observing that the terminology can refer to a male witch (ibid., 38, comment to line 26). 71 Other dates in STT II, 300 for performing this ritual that appears in BRM IV, 19–20: STT II, 300, rev. 31 (rev. 4): favourable days (for spells) for “breaking a spell”: the month of Arahsamnu (Month 8), no day given [Arahsamnu (Month 8) equates to Scorpio], Geller, Melothesia, 49, 56; Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie,” 77, 80; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 70–71. STT II, 300, rev. 40–41 (rev. 13): Addaru (Month 12), Day 26, Geller, Melothesia, 49, 57 (Table 1: micro-Aquarius); Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie,” 77, 80; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 70–71. STT II, 300, rev. 43 (rev. 16): Šabāṭu and Addarru (Months 11 and 12), Day 27 (Geller, Melothesia, 49, 57 [Table 1: micro-Aquarius and Capricorn, respectively] are favourable days for the loosening of spells; Glassner, “Exorcisme et Chronomancie,” 77, 80; Casaburi, “Early Evidences of Astrological Aspects,” 72–73. 72 Geller, Melothesia, 40 has XII 24 XI 21 in both instances; Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 274, 277, 279 (line number different. BRM IV, 19: 12), has XII 27 XI 21 (trans. “To lose a spell”). This matches Table 1 and Table 4. 73 Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 279, n. 53.

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BRM IV, 20, 23 Spells for “annulling witchcraft”: the region of Aquarius alternatively Pisces.74 Table 4: Month XII (equates to Pisces [12th sign]), Day 27; XI: (micro-) Aquarius [11th sign]. Dodekatemorion: Pisces. (Degree: 21° Aquarius – 4° Pisces) BRM IV, 19, line 12, states that the first degree of the micro-zodiac on XII 27 is 21° Aquarius. BRM IV, 20 apparently either used the given data of 21° micro-Aquarius, or the micro-zodiac sign of Aquarius itself without the degree to produce the alternative micro-zodiac sign of Pisces, the sign of its dodekatemorion (not used in the Qumran texts).75 It is apparent from Table 1 that 4Q208–209 describes the moon’s passage through the zodiacal belt from the first day of every lunar month, moving 13° per day throughout the year. The mathematical similarity between 4Q208– 209 and BRM IV, 19 is demonstrated in Table 4, which itself is a theoretical modification of the theoretical reconstruction in Table 1. Therefore, Table 1 is not only a probable restoration of 4Q208–209 based on the Qumran text, it is also a variation of a basic ancient Near Eastern paradigm. There is a case for arguing for an indirect ancient scholarly connection between the Mesopotamian texts above and the proposed reconstructed year of 4Q208–209. The degrees of the zodiac signs in the “micro-zodiac of 13,” although absent from 4Q208–209, would not have been difficult to reconstruct or to memorize. It is suggested that 4Q208–209 is descended from a common astronomical source to the astrological schemes present in the Mesopotamian ritual texts that utilized the “micro-zodiac of 13.” 4QAstronomical Enoch a–b replaced the Late Babylonian scheme whereby signs are numerically equated to months from one to twelve with “gates” numbered from one to six whereby each “gate” number represents two signs and two months. In conclusion, the synchronistic calendar of 4Q208–209 is connected to the Mesopotamian magic hemerologies that use the micro-zodiac; it appears to be linked to the format found in BRM IV, 19, in particular. This may be evidence of indirect or secondary knowledge that could date back to possible cultural interaction with Babylonian scribes and scholars in Judea in the early 2nd century BCE, during the Seleucid rule in Judea, to the time when 4Q208 was copied. Furthermore, it is likely that some cultural memory of witchcraft texts, or knowledge of the astrological calendars’ origins, both in terms of general ancient Near Eastern scholarship and their links to magical practices 74

Geller, Melothesia, 29, 33; Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst,” 259, 266, 279. There is no zodiacal correspondence with SpTU V, 243, rev. 3: “(The spells for) ‘annulling witchcraft:’ region of Sagittarius,” Geller, Melothesia, 59–60; Scurlock, “Sorcery in the Stars,” 142. 75

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prohibited in late Second Temple Judaism were referenced in the astronomical teachings within the Asael narrative in the Aramaic Vorlage of 1 En. 8:3. The common elements between the Mesopotamian hemerological magical texts and the Aramaic calendars found at Qumran are part of an intriguing, diverse calendrical culture in late Second Temple Judaism.

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Drawnel, Henryk. The Aramaic Astronomical Book (4Q208–4Q211) from Qumran: Text, Translation, and Commentary. Oxford: Clarendon, 2011. García Martínez, Florentino, and Eibert J.C. Tigchelaar. The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition. 2 vols. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 1997, 1998. Geller, Markham J. Melothesia in Babylonia: Medicine, Magic and Astrology in the Ancient Near East. STMAC 2. Boston; Berlin; Munich: De Gruyter, 2014. Glassner, Jean-Jacques. “Exorcisme et Chronomancie selon STT 2, 300.” Pages 75–81 in Et il y eut un esprit dans l’Homme: Jean Bottéro et la Mésopotamie. Edited by Xavier Faivre, Brigitte Lion, and Cécile Michel. Paris: de Boccard, 2009. Gurney, Oliver Robert, and Peter Hulin, The Sultantepe Tablets, vol. II. London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 1964. Heeßel, Nils P. “Stein, Pflanze und Holz: Ein neuer Text zur ‘medizinischen Astrologie.’” Or 74 (2005): 1–22. Hunger, Hermann. “How to Make the Gods Speak: A Late Babylonian Tablet Related to the Microzodiac.” Pages 141–51 in Studies Presented to Robert D. Biggs June 4, 2004. Edited by Martha T. Roth et al. AS 27. From the Workshop of the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary 2. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2007. Jacobus, Helen R. 4Q318 Zodiac Calendar and Brontologion Reconsidered and Implications for the Aramaic Astronomical Book of Enoch and a Medieval Calendar Text. Ph.D. diss., University of Manchester, 2011. Jacobus, Helen R. Zodiac Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Their Reception: Ancient Astronomy and Astrology in Early Judaism. IJS Studies in Judaica 14. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2014. Jacobus, Helen R. “4QZodiac Calendar in Relation to Babylonian Horoscopes.” Pages 217–44 in Astrology in Time and Place: Cross-Cultural Question in the History of Astrology. Edited by Nick Campion and Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 2015. Jacobus, Helen R. “Reconstructing the Calendar of 4Q208–4Q209 (and a response to Eshbal Ratzon).” RevQ 31/114 (2019): 251–73. Jacobus, Helen R. “Astral Divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 539–50 in Hellenistic Astronomy: The Science in Its Context. Edited by Alan C. Bowen and Francesca Rochberg. Brill’s Companions in Classical Studies. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020. Jacobus, Helen R. “Aramaic Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Question of Divination.” Pages 46–100 in Unveiling the Hidden – Anticipating the Future. Edited by Josefina Rodríquez-Arribas and Dorian Gieseler Greenbaum. Prognostication in History 5. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2021. Jull, J. Timothy, Douglas J. Donahue, Magen Broshi, and Emanuel Tov. “Radiocarbon Dating of Scrolls and Linen Fragments from the Judean Desert.” Radiocarbon 37 (1995): 11–19. Koch-Westenholz, Ulla. Mesopotamian Astrology: An Introduction to Babylonian and Assyrian Celestial Divination. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 1995. Machiela, Daniel A. “The Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls: Coherence and Context in the Library of Qumran.” Pages 244–60 in The Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran and the Concept of a Library. Edited by Sidnie White Crawford and Cecilia Wassen. STDJ 116. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016. Milik, Józef T. The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4. Oxford: Clarendon, 1976. Monroe, M. Willis. “The Micro-Zodiac in Babylon and Uruk: Seleucid Zodiacal Astrology.” Pages 119–38 in The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient

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World. Edited by John M. Steele. Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 6. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016. Montell, Clemency. “The Celestial Sphere.” Pages 9–23 in Hellenistic Astronomy: The Science in Its Context. Edited by Alan C. Bowen and Francesca Rochberg. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020. Neugebauer, Otto. “The Alleged Babylonian Discovery of the Precession of the Equinoxes.” JAOS 70 (1950): 1–8. Neugebauer, Otto. A History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy. 3 vols. Berlin: Springer, 1975. Neugebauer, Otto, and Abraham Sachs. “The ‘Dodekatemoria’ in Babylonian Astrology.” AfO 16 (1952–53): 65–66. Nickelsburg, George W.E. 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1– 36; 81–108. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2001. Nickelsburg, George W.E., and James C. VanderKam. 1 Enoch – A New Translation: Based on the Hermeneia Commentary. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2004. Nickelsburg, George W.E., and James C. VanderKam. 1 Enoch 2: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 37–82. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2012. Pfann, Stephen J. Qumran Cave 4.XXVI: Cryptic Texts; Philip J. Alexander et al., Miscellanea, Part 1. DJD XXXVI. Oxford: Clarendon, 2000. Reiner, Erica. Astral Magic in Babylonia. TAPS vol. 85, Part 4. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1995. Rochberg, Francesca. “Elements of the Babylonian Contribution to Hellenistic Astrology.” JAOS 108 (1988): 51–62. Rochberg, Francesca. The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Rochberg, Francesca. “A Babylonian Rising-Times Scheme in Non-Tabular Astronomical Texts.” Pages 56–94 in Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree. Edited by Charles Burnett et al. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2004. Rochberg, Francesca. In the Path of the Moon: Babylonian Celestial Divination and Its Legacy. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010. Rochberg-Halton, Francesca. “New Evidence for the History of Astrology.” JNES 42 (1984): 115–40. Roughton, Norbert A., John M. Steele, and Christopher B.F. Walker. “A Late Babylonian Normal and Ziqpu Star Text.” Archive for the History of Exact Sciences 58 (2004): 537–72. Sachs, Abraham. “Babylonian Horoscopes.” JCS 6 (1952): 49–75. Scurlock, JoAnn. “Sorcery in the Stars: STT 300, BRM 4. 19–20.” AfO 51 (2005–2006): 125–46. Steele, John M. “Celestial Measurement in Babylonian Astronomy.” Annals of Science 64 (2007): 293–325. Steele, John M. “Astronomy and culture in Late Babylonian Uruk.” Pages 331–41 in Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy: Building Bridges between Cultures. Proceedings of the International Astronomical Union and the “Oxford IX” International Symposium on Archaeoastronomy. Edited by Clive Ruggles. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Steele, John M. “A Late Babylonian Compendium of Calendrical and Stellar Astrology.” JCS 67 (2015): 187–215. Steele, John M. Rising Time Schemes in Babylonian Astronomy. Cham, Switzerland: Springer, 2017.

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Stone, Michael E. Ancient Judaism: New Visions and Views. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011. Taylor, Joan E. The Essenes, the Scrolls, and the Dead Sea. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Tigchelaar, Eibert J.C. “Some Remarks on the Book of Watchers, the Priests, Enoch and Genesis, and 4Q208.” Henoch 24 (2002): 143–45. Ungnad, A. “Besprechungskunst und Astrologie in Babylonien.” AfO 14 (1941–44): 251– 84. Waerden, Bartel L. van der. “History of the Zodiac.” AfO 16 (1952–53): 216–30. Wee, John Z. “Virtual Moons over Babylonia: The Calendar Text System, Its MicroZodiac of 13, and the Making of Medical Zodiology.” Pages 139–229 in The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World. Edited by John M. Steele. Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 6. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016. Weidner, Ernst. Gestirn-Darstellungen auf babylonischen Tontafeln. Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 254/2. Vienna: Hermann Böhlaus Nachf., 1967. Weiher, Egbert von. Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk IV. Berlin: Mann, 1993. Weiher, Egbert von. Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk V. Mainz am Rhein: Mann, 1998.

Jewish Aramaic Science and Mythology: Babylonian or Levantine Heritage?* Jonathan Ben-Dov

The present volume discusses an impressive variety of Aramaic materials – from Jewish apocalyptic material or more specifically from Qumran – which correspond to similar “parallels” from the cuneiform tradition. This kind of material has been collected since the 1980s, but its accumulation significantly increased in the recent decade. The first scholars to dedicate comprehensive efforts to this kind of scholarship were James VanderKam and Helge Kvanvig, building on work by forerunners.1 Much new material has been adduced since then, both in the literary domain of mythology and in the field of science and divination. The former field comprises studies on the Mesopotamian background of the Daniel stories, including the Prayer of Nabonidus,2 * I would like to thank Professor Ida Fröhlich and the conference organizers at Pázmány Péter University, Budapest, for their warm hospitality. I thank the conference participants for the fruitful and open discussion. 1 James C. VanderKam, Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition, CBQMS 16 (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association, 1984); Helge S. Kvanvig, Roots of Apocalyptic: The Mesopotamian Background of the Enoch Figure and of the Son of Man, WMANT 61 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1988). 2 The bibliography here cannot be exhaustive. See among others: Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “The Babylonian Background of the Motif of the Fiery Furnace in Daniel 3,” JBL 128 (2009): 273–90; Takayoshi Oshima, “Nebuchadnezzar’s Madness (Daniel 4:30): Reminiscence of a Historical Event or a Legend?,” in “Now it Happened in Those Days”: Studies in Biblical, Assyrian, and Other Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Mordechai Cogan on His 75th Birthday, ed. Amitai Baruchi-Unna et al. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017), 2:645–75; Christopher B. Hays, “Chirps from the Dust: The Affliction of Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4:30 in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context,” JBL 126 (2007): 305–25; Carol A Newsom, “Why Nabonidus? Excavating Traditions from Qumran, the Hebrew Bible, and Neo-Babylonian Sources,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Transmission of Traditions and Production of Texts, ed. Sariana Metso, Hindy Najman, and Eileen Schuller, STDJ 92 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 57–79; Matthew Goff, “Gilgamesh the Giant: The Qumran ‘Book of Giants’ Appropriation of ‘Gilgamesh’ Motifs,” DSD 16 (2009): 221–53; Reinhard Kratz, “Nabonid in Qumran,” in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident, ed. Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Margarete van Ess, and Joachim Marzahn, Topoi: Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 1 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011), 253–70.

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alongside studies about the character of the watchers and their progeny, the giants, the protagonists of the Enochic myth of the Fallen Angels.3 In addition, studies on shared scientific material have accumulated, to a stage that the map of knowledge transfer and the place of Judea in it have become significantly clearer.4 More recently, several attempts were made to not only collect the material and add new items, but also to reflect on it in a systematic manner.5 The present contribution is an attempt to reflect on the kind of cultural contact we assume when speaking of the absorption of Babylonian material in Jewish literature. Acts of inter-cultural contact or transfer of knowledge are not uni-dimensional, one-time events. Rather, they constitute a rich cultural interaction. Pointing out Mesopotamian material in Qumran raises a whole set of questions: Did Judea and Babylonia belong to the same cultural milieu? When and where did that happen? Were there any mediators transferring the data? What is the intellectual environment that enabled the received knowledge to be absorbed in the new Jewish setting? Was it adopted or adapted, that is, was it absorbed wholesale or rather only partly, with significant modifications 3 Some representative items are: Amar Annus, “On the Origin of the Watchers: A Comparative Study of the Antediluvian Wisdom in Mesopotamian and Jewish Traditions,” JSP 19 (2010): 277–320; Henryk Drawnel, “Between Akkadian ṭupšarrūtu and Aramaic ‫ספר‬: Some Notes on the Social Context of the Early Enochic Literature,” RevQ 24/95 (2010): 373–403; Ida Fröhlich, “Enmeduranki and Gilgamesh: Mesopotamian Figures in Aramaic Enoch Traditions,” in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, ed. Eric F. Mason et al., JSOTSup 153 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 637–53; eadem, “Stars and Spirits: Heavenly Bodies in Ancient Jewish Aramaic Tradition,” AS 13 (2015): 111–27; eadem, “The Figures of the Watchers in the Enochic Tradition,” Henoch 33 (2011): 6–26. A similar effort, although considering other sources beyond the Mesopotamian ones, is found in Helge S. Kvanvig, Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic. An Intertextual Reading, JSJSup 149 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011), 453–69. 4 Matthias Albani, Astronomie und Schöpfungsglaube: Untersuchungen zum astronomischen Henochbuch, WMANT 68 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1994); Jonathan Ben-Dov, Head of All Years: Astronomy and Calendars at Qumran in their Ancient Context, STDJ 78 (Leiden: Brill, 2008); Henryk Drawnel, The Aramaic Astronomical Book (4Q208–4Q211) from Qumran: Text, Translation, and Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); Eshbal Ratzon, “The Gates Cosmology of the Astronomical Book of Enoch,” DSD 22 (2015): 93–111. 5 See the various articles in the collection by Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders, eds., Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature (New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014); Seth Sanders, From Adapa to Enoch: Scribal Culture and Religious Vision in Judea and Babylon, TSAJ 167 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 73–83, 228–29; Annette Yoshiko Reed, “Writing Jewish Astronomy in the Early Hellenistic Age: The Enochic Astronomical Book as Aramaic Wisdom and Archival Impulse,” DSD 24 (2017): 1–37. See the succinct summary by John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature, 3rd edn. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016), 32–36 (“A Babylonian Matrix?”).

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inserted in the receiving environment? Finally, was the transfer a unilateral act of “influence” or can we maybe suggest more refined ways of defining the cultural interaction? I aim to unpack the keyword “cultural contact between Judea and Mesopotamia,” which is sometimes taken for granted in our scholarly field. In this study I indulge with texts that were written and circulated in the Hellenistic period, and thus cannot be conceived as products of contact during the 5– 6th centuries BCE (the Babylonian exile), but rather of more recent contacts.6 During the Hellenistic period, Judea was not part of the Mesopotamian cultural circle, at least not directly so. From around 200 BCE, both Judea and Babylon were part of the larger Seleucid Empire. Babylon had been part of this empire previously, with Judea belonging to the Ptolemaic crown. The two geographical locations thus experienced a different intellectual mode of conduct than, say, the state of affairs in the 6th century BCE. Thus, one cannot expect materials to flow directly between Babylon and Jerusalem, and cannot expect the cultural goods to fulfill the same function in both societies. The Sitz im Leben of astronomy in Hellenistic Judea cannot conceivably be the same as that of astronomy in contemporary Babylonia, with the age-old pedigree of that tradition. Thus, we should accompany the statement about knowledge transfer with a study of the intellectual environment in which this knowledge has been absorbed, and remap its geographical foci. In this article I would like to posit Jewish apocalyptic literature as part of the Hellenistic Levant. Judea was an organic part of the Hellenistic Levant. Moreover, the Jewish apocalyptic tradition explicitly points at the area of Lebanon and southern Syria as a source of inspiration and knowledge. Several examples will be mentioned here shortly, introducing a more thorough discussion later on. With the mention of Gilgamesh and Humbaba in the Book of Giants (4Q530 2 ii 2; 4Q531 22 12; 4Q203 3 3), scholars have naturally marked Mesopotamia as a source of orientation for the story, and studied its interaction with the Mesopotamian story of Gilgamesh.7 However, as Émile Puech 6 To my mind, the Prayer of Nabonidus is sufficiently understood as part of the Hellenistic Levant, requiring no need to postulate that it originated in the 6th century BCE. See Jonathan Ben-Dov, “Nebuchadnezzar: Seeing Twice Double in Babylonia and the Levant,” HBAI 7 (2018): 3–16. Similarly, the book of Tobit, which is usually understood as reflecting the “eastern diaspora,” may equally be seen as belonging to the west-Semitic, specifically Aramaic scribal culture, revolving around the story of Ahiqar. Both these cases deserve further illumination, which lies outside the scope of this article. 7 John C. Reeves, Jewish Lore in Manichaean Cosmogony: Studies in the Book of Giants Traditions, HUCM (Cincinnati, OH: Hebrew Union College Press, 1992); Goff, “Gilgamesh the Giant”; Loren T. Stuckenbruck, “Giant Mythology and Demonology: From the Ancient Near East to the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Die Dämonen – Demons: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt – The De-

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points out, another giant in the same book is called Ahiram (‫ )אחירם‬in 4Q531 7 1, the latter being a typical Phoenician royal name, pointing rather to Lebanon than to Babylonia.8 Thus, says Puech, the Book of Giants is as much a product of the Levant as it is of Mesopotamia. The Mesopotamian material encountered in it did not come directly from the east to Palestine, but rather consisted part of a larger Levantine amalgam. This impression accounts for the several place names from the Hermon region mentioned in the Book of the Watchers (Hermon, 1 En. 6:6; Dan, Snir, Abel, 1 En. 13:7–9) pointing to an origin of the Watchers stories in that region.9 In another significant branch of the apocalyptic tradition, Daniel 7 famously features two mythological figures – the Son of Man and the Ancient of Days – that belong to the mythological world of the Levant.10 Finally, a somewhat later apocalyptic community declares itself as having been founded and experienced its first years of existence in southern Syria. It is “the community of the renewed covenant in the land of Damascus” (CD VI, 5, 19), in the book we now call “the Covenant of Damascus” from Qumran.11 The present article will begin with a short conceptual discussion of the term “influence,” which is often employed when thinking of the Babylonian presence in Judea, and will suggest other, more intricate terms for describing that cultural interaction. I will then continue to examine several test-cases of Jewish apocalyptic material, explaining them as Levantine phenomena: first in the realm of mythology and then in the realm of science and divination. monology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of Their Environment, ed. Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K.F. Diethard Römheld (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 318–38; André Lemaire, “Nabonide et Gilgamesh: L’araméen en Mésopotamie et à Qoumrân,” in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008, ed. Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra, STDJ 94 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 125–39. 8 Émile Puech, “Le volume XXXVII des Discoveries in the Judean Desert et les manuscrits araméens du lot Starcky,” in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008, ed. Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra, STDJ 94 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 47–61, here 50–51. 9 See George W.E. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81–108, Hermeneia (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2001), 238–47. Further, Jonathan Ben-Dov, “Flooding in the Lebanon Forest: Relics of Levantine Mythology in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Meghillot 14 (2018–2019): 189–203 [Hebrew]. 10 See the recent discussion with references in Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination, 124–28 (“The Beasts from the Sea”). 11 Many scholars read this mention of Damascus as an allegory for Qumran, or even as some metaphoric place or exile. I see no reason, however, to discredit the explicit statement of a distinct place name; for this opinion see Devorah Dimant, “Not Exile in the Desert but Exile in the Spirit: The Pesher of Isa 40:3 in the Rule of the Community and the History of the Scrolls Community,” in eadem, History, Ideology and Bible Interpretation in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Collected Studies, FAT 90 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 455–64.

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I. Influence Influence takes place between two distinct entities, with clear hierarchy existing between them: one side dominates the other, weak side, exerting its influence onto it. One side is entirely active while the other is entirely passive. The dominant part is not affected by any act of its subject. Influence is one-sided. Already in 1986 the French scholar of Hellenism Édouard Will declared the term influence to be “a pseudo-concept.”12 This term, he says, is used as a blanket for a complex situation, but it mystifies the situation instead of clarifying it. Influence, coercion, mimicry, emulation, borrowing, appropriation, accommodation, trade, exchange, distribution, etc., are all possible and legitimate ways for culturemes to be transferred between people or groups of people, and thus to account for resulting similarities between them. Influence can no longer serve as the default term for describing the interaction, and more complex study of the circumstances must be employed.13 When observing intercultural contact, one should underscore the agency of the receiving side.14 A cultural element is only received if the receiving culture has a place for it in its system. Furthermore, nothing is received and absorbed wholesale: every act of reception involves also reshaping and adaptation.15 Let us take a famous example of alleged “influence”: Hellenism in the east. We are accustomed to treat so many elements of Second Temple Judaism as Hellenistic influence, but in reality this overarching cultural phenomenon did not involve the wholesale adoption of Greek culture as it 12 Édouard Will, “‘Influence’: Note sur un pseudo-concept,” in idem, Historica GraecoHellenistica: Choix d’écrits 1953–1993 (Paris: de Boccard, 1998), 803–9. See a more recent formulation in Michael Satlow, “Beyond Influence: Toward a New Historiographic Paradigm,” in Jewish Literatures and Cultures: Contexts and Intertext, ed. Anita Norich and Yaron Z. Eliav, BJS 349 (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 2008), 37–54. 13 The book by Seth Sanders, From Adapa to Enoch, is a comprehensive attempt to come to terms with the common term “borrowing” for describing cultural interactions. Sanders examines several episodes of such interaction in the Israelite-Judean culture, explaining them in more intricate ways than suggested before, based on a more sensitive understanding of the cultural circumstances in each case. 14 For such terminology see Tamar Hodos, Local Responses to Colonization in the Iron Age Mediterranean (London: Routledge, 2006). 15 It is helpful to describe this procedure using the term “appropriation,” as defined for example by Abdelhamid I. Sabra, “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Science in Medieval Islam: A Preliminary Statement,” History of Science 25 (1987): 223–43; and in a different context Kathleen Ashley and Véronique Plesch, “The Cultural Processes of ‘Appropriation,’” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 32 (2002): 1–15. However, in recent years this term acquired a negative connotation, denoting the opposite sense: cultural goods of the weak side, which were taken over by the stronger, colonial side. This development renders the term no longer useful for my purposes.

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was in heartland Greece of the 5th century BCE. Rather, Hellenism in the East by definition involved the admixture of Greek elements with the age-old and lively environment of eastern cultures, together forming a new hybrid, in which the eastern cultures were contributors no less than they were receivers.16 The contact between Mesopotamia and Judea in Hellenistic times must be viewed with such a scope in mind. Babylon was no longer the imperial ruler, nor did it retain a dominant cultural force in Judea. Rather, Babylonia was one element – admittedly a central and very lively one – in the variegated culture of the Levant, which included Mesopotamian heritage next to local, Levantine elements, as well as Greek elements. Jews were part of this hybrid too, alongside their non-Jewish Aramaic or Phoenician-speaking neighbors: Phoenicians, Edomites, etc. The cultural agents and institutions of the Levant were not the same as in Babylon, but were rather different agents, operating in a new spatio-temporal setting. Thus, when a Babylonian element is encountered in Judea, it is not a fossil from the ancient Babylonian tradition, but rather a living element of the Levantine environment. Two authors in this volume made important contributions by tracing Mesopotamian elements in Judea. Amar Annus, in an impressive series of studies, claimed that the stories of the Watchers are greatly indebted to Mesopotamian mythology, especially traditions of the apkallū and of Adapa.17 Henryk Drawnel claimed that the list of technological and scientific skills taught by the watchers in 1 Enoch 8 is a reflection – in fact a parody – of current Babylonian divinatory practices.18 Both these claims would require a rather close acquaintance of Aramaic-speaking Jewish scholars with the Babylonian material, including access to somewhat esoteric material and to learned knowledge of the divinatory tradition. Furthermore, they require not only knowledge of textual material – which is relatively easy to transfer and travel – but rather also acquaintance with institutions of society. Let us recall, however, that Babylonia itself at that time was not the classical Babylonia known from the times of Hammurabi or Nebuchadnezzar II. It 16 Literature on this is vast, but see Hellenism in the East: The Interaction of Greek and non-Greek Civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander, ed. Amélie Kuhrt and Susan Sherwin-White (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987); Erich S. Gruen, Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1998); Cultural Borrowings and Ethnic Appropriations in Antiquity, ed. idem, OeO 8 (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2005); and more recently Ian S. Moyer, Egypt and the Limits of Hellenism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 17 Annus, “On the Origin of the Watchers”; idem, The Overturned Boat: Intertextuality of the Adapa Myth and Exorcist Literature, SAAS 24 (Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2016). 18 Drawnel, “Between Akkadian ṭupšarrūtu and Aramaic ‫ ;”ספר‬idem, The Aramaic Astronomical Book, 53–70.

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was ruled by a Syrian-Greek dynasty, and experienced similar identity conflicts to those of its contemporary city of Jerusalem.19 While small groups – families – of priests kept maintaining the ancient cuneiform tradition, and while kings and scribes kept an interest in the distant past as a mode of gaining current prestige, cuneiform was in decline.20 Even at the heart of Mesopotamia, some of the scientific cuneiform literature in fact involves Hellenistic knowledge.21 It is therefore unjustified to read the writings from Judea as if they were written in the outskirts of the Esangil Temple, since such a view does not match the historical context of the Judean material. Rather, a more intricate view of the contact should be employed. Such a view was employed by Popović with regard to the scientific material in Jewish texts, and on a wider scale by Tawny Holm in her study of the court stories as a wide-ranging West Semitic literary genre, from Babylonia to Egypt.22

II. The Levant Throughout the 2nd and 1st millennia BCE, Judah has consistently been part of the cultural heritage of the Levant, absorbing cultural goods from Mesopotamia, just like other Levantine nations, while partaking in a Levantine 19 See for example Mark J. Geller and Daniel T. Potts, “The Gymnasium at Babylon and Jerusalem,” in The Archeology and Material Culture of the Babylonian Talmud, ed. Mark J. Geller, IJS Studies in Judaica 16 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 387–95; Paul Kosmin, “Indigenous Revolts in 2 Maccabees – The Persian Version,” CP 111 (2016): 32–53; Sylvie Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes: The Books of the Maccabees and the Judean Rebellion Against Antiochos IV (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2014), 356–60. Of interest is also Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse, “A Babylonian Priestly Martyr, a King-like Priest, and the Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” WZKM 107 (2017): 77–98. 20 For active circles of cuneiform authors in Hellenistic Mesopotamia see Scholars and Scholarship in Late Babylonian Uruk, ed. Christine Proust and John Steele (Berlin: Springer, 2019); Philippe Clancier, “Cuneiform Culture’s Last Guardians: The Old Urban Notability of Hellenistic Uruk,” in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture, ed. Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 752–73; Caroline Waerzeggers, “The Prayer of Nabonidus in the Light of Hellenistic Babylonian Literature,” in Jewish Cultural Encounters in the Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern World, ed. Mladen Popović et al., JSJSup 178 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 64–75. 21 See John Steele, “Short Time in Mesopotamia,” in Down to the Hour: Short Time in the Ancient Mediterranean and Near East, ed. Kassandra J. Miller and Sarah L. Symons, Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 8 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020), 90–124. 22 Mladen Popović, “Networks of Scholars: The Transmission of Astronomical and Astrological Learning between Babylonians, Greeks and Jews,” in Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature, ed. Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders (New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014), 151–91; Tawny Holm, Of Courtiers and Kings: The Biblical Daniel Narratives and Ancient Story-Collections (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013).

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koine, which was not a direct reflection of the Mesopotamian material.23 If this were the case in the 2nd millennium and in the early 1st millennium BCE, why would it not be the case also in the late 1st millennium BCE? Among the variety of Jewish Second Temple literature, the corpus of Aramaic apocalyptic texts is the most promising candidate to be viewed as part of the literature of the Hellenistic Levant.24 We have little Levantine literature, however, to compare with the burst of the literary imagination in the Jewish Aramaic apocalyptic writings. In the absence of Levantine comparanda, looking for Mesopotamian parallels is a natural move, but it is not fully justified methodologically. I shall now present an initial look into several sources from the Levant, which can highlight the intellectual environment of Jewish apocalyptic authors. 1. Philo of Byblos The Phoenician History by Philo of Byblos, writing in Greek in the 2nd century CE, is a potential source for placing the Enochic myth in context. This book was preserved in long quotations in the works of the church father Eusebius.25 Philo bases himself on earlier Phoenician traditions, as early as a mysterious priest called Sanchouniathon, purportedly dating from before the Trojan War. The credibility of this claim has been a source of constant debate among scholars, as Philo indeed preserves elements of ancient west-Semitic mythology while embedding it in extensive Greek mythological accounts of Euhemeristic spirit.26 Yet the presence of older material in Philo is generally 23

For a fresh demonstration of the place of Judean traditions in the stream of tradition of Levantine and Mesopotamian mythology see Noga Ayali-Darshan, The Storm-God and the Sea: The Origin, Versions, and Diffusion of a Myth throughout the Ancient Near East, trans. Liat Keren, ORA 37 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020). A similar argument was made a generation earlier by Cogan, with regard to the nature of Judean religion under the Assyrian empire, as reflected in the books of Deuteronomy and 2 Kings: see Morton Cogan, Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah and Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B.C.E., SBLMS 19 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1974). 24 See also Daniel A. Machiela, “The Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls and the Historical Development of Jewish Apocalyptic Literature,” in The Seleucid and Hasmonean Periods and the Apocalyptic Worldview: The First Enoch Seminar Nangeroni Meeting, Villa Cagnola, Gazzada (June 25–28, 2012), ed. Lester L. Grabbe and Gabriele Boccaccini, LSTS 88 (London: T&T Clark, 2016), 147–56; and in a different way, Joseph Angel, “Reading the Book of Giants in Literary and Historical Context,” DSD 21 (2014): 313–46. 25 The best and most detailed edition of, and commentary on, this work is still Albert Baumgarten, The Phoenician History of Philo of Byblos: A Commentary, EPRO 89 (Leiden: Brill, 1981). 26 For a recent survey of the Philonic question see Carolina López-Ruiz, “‘Not that which Can be Found Among the Greeks’: Philo of Byblos and Phoenician Cultural Identity in the Roman East,” Religion in the Roman Empire 3 (2017): 366–92. Not denying the antiquity of some of the sources, López-Ruiz is interested in highlighting Philo’s activity

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accepted. Philo shows a similar dynamic to that attested in Hellenistic Jewish writings, in which individual nations under the great Hellenistic powers compete for the antiquity and ingenuity of their own cultural heroes, be it Enoch, Abraham, Hermes, or the Phoenician Thoth.27 In a rather productive way for our present purposes, Philo concerns himself mainly with the history of primordial times, and addresses quite specifically the question of the origin of civilization.28 Philo’s history shares mythical ideas with the Book of the Watchers and other apocalyptic literature, and should be taken as a good parallel. Although considerably later than the stories of the Watchers, it can be said to reflect authentic local traditions from the Hellenistic period. The similarity between the Book of the Watchers and Philo’s Phoenician History raised some interest among scholars in the past, but this interest has quickly receded.29 I suggest we should now seriously revive it. Here is an interesting point of similarity between Philo of Byblos and the Watchers: From Genos, the son of Aion and Protogonos, there again were born mortal children whose names were Phos, Pyr and Phlox. These (he says) by rubbing sticks together discovered fire, and they taught its use. And they begot sons who in size and eminence were greater [than their fathers] and whose names were given to the mountain ranges over which they ruled so that the Kassios, the Lebanon, the Anti-Lebanon and the Brathys were called after them. From these (he says) were born Samemroumos who is also called Hyposouranios and Ousoos. And (he says), they called themselves after their mothers, since the women of that time united freely with anyone upon whom they chanced.30

This quotation involves the origins of civilization, within a section that Baumgarten names “the discoverers.” This legend combines giants, Mount Hermon and Lebanon, discoveries of civilization, semi-divine beings, and women who mated with them. The entire mythological array, in turn, is connected with the localities of Tyre (Ousoos) and Sidon (Samemroumos), as Philo presents his own local ramification of the story. With that element removed, we face an ancient Levantine story, which shares much resemblance with the early Enoch stories, not less convincing in my opinion than the Mesopotamian texts that have been adduced thus far as parallels. While the path of the tradition should as an author in the Roman east. See further Corinne Bonnet, Les enfants de Cadmos: Le paysage religieux de la Phénicie hellénistique, De l’archéologie à l’histoire 63 (Paris: de Boccard, 2015), 156–57. 27 See, e.g., Gideon Bohak, “Ethnic Portraits in Greco-Roman Literature,” in Cultural Borrowings and Ethnic Appropriations in Antiquity, ed. Erich S. Gruen, OeO 8 (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2005), 207–37, esp. 228–30. 28 See Guy Darshan, After the Flood: Stories of Origins in the Hebrew Bible and Eastern Mediterranean Literature (Jerusalem: Bialik, 2018), 156–67 [Hebrew]. 29 See Baumgarten, Phoenician History, 153–58. 30 Eusebius, PE 1.10; Baumgarten, Phoenician History, 156–58. Translation follows Baumgarten, ibid., 142.

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yet be articulated, the relevance of this tradition is, to my mind, compelling.31 In fact, yet another source from the Jewish sectarian tradition reinforces the connection with the Lebanese traditions, connecting the Watchers with the northern mountain ranges and the cedars of Lebanon (CD II, 17–19): When they went about in their willful heart, the of Heaven fell and were ensnared by it, for they did not observe the commandments of God. Their sons, who were as tall as cedars, and whose bodies were as big as mountains fell by it.

If one seeks a milieu for the myth of the Watchers, one may of course seek it in the legend of the apkallū; at the same time, however, the Phoenician myth provides another piece of the puzzle. The advantage of the Levantine milieu is not only its proximity, but also its explicit mention in the Enochic sources, while mention of Mesopotamia is lacking. Another point in Philo’s account of origins connects well with the myth of the Watchers. The mysterious name of the leader of the Watchers (according to one tradition in 1 Enoch 6–11), ‫ שמיחזה‬has baffled many scholars with regard to its etymology. A recent study called attention to a relatively neglected earlier proposal, reading this name as a compound of ‫ שמי‬and ‫חזה‬, that is, “He who watches the heavens.”32 As noted by Idel, this name would then stand in interesting opposition with the next name in the list: ‫ארעתקף‬, “The strong one of the Earth?,” these two names being nearly the only ones without the suffix -el in the list of 1 En. 6:7. Surprising support for this interpretation was recently noted by Shlomi Efrati in the mythology of Philo Byblos, where the chain of primordial beings who initiated civilization opens with a group of egg-shaped beings, who are called: Ζοφασηµίν, τοῦτ’ ἔστιν οὐρανοῦ κατόπται, “Tzofasemin (= sky gazers), those who gaze the sky” (Eusebius, Praeparatio evangelica 2.10).33 The Phoenician ‫ צפשמין‬is conspicuously equivalent to the Aramaic ‫שמיחזה‬, both depicting primordial mythological divinities involved in the roots of civilization. In light of the above, I therefore suggest that we consider the presence of Babylonian material in Jewish writings not as a direct contact with Baby-

31

See a similar direction suggested by Émile Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4.XXII: Textes araméens, première partie: 4Q529–549, DJD XXXI (Oxford: Clarendon, 2001), 14–15. 32 Moshe Idel, “ŠMYHZH: Shamhazay/Shamhaza’y/Shamay’a + Haze’/Shamayahaze’,” Lešonenu 78 (2016): 37–42 [Hebrew]. 33 Shlomi Efrati, “On Angels and Mountains: Notes on the Levantine and Aramaic Background of the Fallen Angels,” in The Aramaic Manuscripts of Enoch: Proceedings of the Lublin Enoch Seminar, ed. Henryk Drawnel, JSJSup (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming). The section is discussed in Baumgarten, Phoenician History, 114–15. For a detailed analysis, see Jürgen Ebach, Weltentstehung und Kulturentwicklung bei Philo von Byblos: Ein Beitrag zur Überlieferung der biblischen Urgeschichte im Rahmen des altorientalischen und antiken Schöpfungsglaubens, BWANT 108 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1979), 43–56.

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lonia, but rather as a heritage that was part of a Levantine hybrid. I shall now examine additional test-cases in this light. 2. How to Evaluate Mesopotamian Parallels to the Book of Giants? A connection between the Gilgamesh epic and the Aramaic Book of Giants is apparent, not only due to the mention of the names Gilgamesh and Humbaba, but also because of similarities in the plot of the two stories: the multiplicity of dreams (always appearing in pairs), the mention of giants, and, interestingly for our purposes, the scenery of the plot near Mount Lebanon. Gilgamesh’s travel to the Cedar Forest evidently takes place in the Land of the Cedars, well-known in cuneiform literature. While Mount Lebanon does not explicitly appear in the extant Book of Giants, the cognate Enochic story of the Watchers takes place in Hermon, the well-known anti-Lebanon mountain range, as mentioned above.34 The connection between Gilgamesh and the Giants was variously evaluated by scholars. John Reeves, who was the first to discover the connection, thought that the author of the Book of Giants knew the Gilgamesh epic (possibly in Aramaic translation), but that his book constitutes direct polemic against it, aiming to denigrate the image of Gilgamesh to a sinning giant.35 Puech also thought that the Book of Giants is a polemic against pagan practices, but he stressed that the polemic is not antiBabylonian, but rather countering local cult practices of the Hellenistic Upper Galilee.36 Both Puech and Reeves, and others, agree that the Book of Giants assumes direct knowledge of the Gilgamesh epic. More restrained views arise on a closer examination. Andrew George in his magisterial introduction to the Gilgamesh epic claimed that no text outside the cuneiform tradition, Giants included, attests to direct textual knowledge of even parts of the epic, rather than to acquaintance with its general themes.37 In a detailed study dedicated to Giants, Matthew Goff has reached similar conclusions:

34

See Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1, 238–47. Reeves, Jewish Lore, 126. For the possibility of an Aramaic translation of Gilgamesh, see Nili Samet, “The Gilgamesh Epic and the Book of Qohelet: A New Look,” Biblica 96 (2015): 375–90. 36 Émile Puech, “Les songes des fils de Šemihazah dans Le livre des Géants à Qumrân,” CRAI 144/1 (2000): 7–25. 37 Andrew R. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts, 2 vols. (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), 1:466– 67. 35

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The knowledge of the author of the Book of Giants of the Gilgamesh epic does not seem to be informed by an Aramaic text of Gilgamesh which the author consults and polemically reworks. The author’s familiarity with the epic is better attributed to indirect knowledge of Mesopotamian legends regarding the figure of Gilgamesh … Important aspects of the Qumran text are better viewed as an exercise in creative adaptation of Gilgamesh motifs than polemical repudiation of revered Mesopotamian lore.38

The Book of Giants is therefore only an echo of the Gilgamesh epic. It is a creation of the Levant, which knows some general things about Gilgamesh, perhaps due to its original ties with Lebanon and Hermon, and uses them as a hinge for developing other themes. The placement of the giant Ahiram next to Gilgamesh and Hombaba is quite indicative of the interaction between Mesopotamia and the Levant. 3. Science and Divination: the Levantine Setting The oblique nature of the contact between the Gilgamesh epic and the Book of Giants is in many ways analogous to the question of contact between Babylonian scholarship and expertise, to the list of divinatory skills taught by the Watchers in 1 Enoch 8. Drawnel wonders whether “the myth of the Watchers’ descent and transmission of their knowledge to humanity is directed against the Babylonian scribal tradition and its tradents.”39 To buttress this hypothesis, he performs a painstaking comparison, across three ancient languages (Aramaic, Greek, Akkadian), between the disciplines mentioned in 1 Enoch 8 and the divinatory disciplines known from Babylonia, especially those of the āšipu and of the ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil. After ten pages (60–69) of advanced philological work, Drawnel reaches the conclusion that although the Aramaic terms do not correspond to the Akkadian disciplines in etymology, they nevertheless represent the same disciplines. “The above analysis suggests,” he says, that “the myth of the Watchers was composed in Babylonia.”40 Based on this suggested conclusion, Drawnel then continues to suggest that the Enochic myth of the Watchers reflects an inner conflict between different orders of Babylonian priests and scribes in the Hellenistic period, and is thus intensively rooted in the specific scribal culture of Babylonia at the time.41 38

Goff, “Gilgamesh the Giant,” 224, 252. A similar conclusion was reached by Fröhlich, “Enmeduranki and Gilgamesh,” 653 and passim, who speaks about the adherence of the Book of Giants to the Gilgamesh tradition. 39 Drawnel, The Aramaic Astronomical Book, 59. 40 Ibid., 69. 41 Siam Bhayro has even claimed that the Aramaic term ‫“ עיר‬Watcher,” derived from the root ‫“ עור‬awake, watchful,” is cognate to the Akkadian verb barû, “see,” or more specifically “watch over”: Siam Bhayro, The Shemihazah and Asael Narrative of 1 Enoch 6– 11: Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary, with Reference to Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical Antecedents, AOAT 322 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005), 23–25. This claim was rejected by Drawnel, The Aramaic Astronomical Book, 59, n. 212, who showed

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Following the guidelines presented thus far, however, one may doubt how valid it is to evaluate the Enochic divinatory skills against their specific contemporary Babylonian parallels. Since none of the Babylonian disciplines is directly named in 1 Enoch, perhaps the acquaintance of the author with contemporary Babylonia was not so intimate? These disciplines, after all, are specific cultural elements of Mesopotamia. Were they known in the Levant in their specific Mesopotamian garb? All of them? Could we adduce a local setting for these divinatory crafts? These questions raise the doubt whether one should conceive of the Enochic list as a parody on or a polemic against the Babylonian material, or rather as a more distant variant of it, similar to Goff’s view on the connection between the Book of Giants and the Gilgamesh epic. The same question should be asked about the Mesopotamian material in the Book of Luminaries (1 Enoch 72–82). It is quite clear today that this composition reflects knowledge of originally Mesopotamian material, but what role did it play in Hellenistic Judea, where it was copied and circulated? The Astronomical Book does not directly reflect any specific Babylonian astronomical text, and furthermore it contains additional elements, whose origins and provenance are not clearly Babylonian. Drawnel has brilliantly shown that the Astronomical Book’s model of lunar visibility is very close to the method in Enūma Anu Enlil 14, but he himself notes, to take one exemplary element out of many, that the Astronomical Book also records the position of the moon – and occasionally also the sun – on the horizon, in the form of heavenly gates.42 Not being part of traditional Babylonian astronomy, this element in fact goes against the main line of that tradition. Sources like Enūma Anu Enlil and related texts, even their late elaborations, have only worked with arithmetical period relations on the temporal dimension, while ignoring altogether the spatial dimension of astronomy. The heavenly gates thus seem to be an innovation of the Astronomical Book, or rather of its wider cultural milieu.43 that the term barūtu declined in use in Akkadian of the late period. In my opinion, understanding ‫ עיר‬as “watcher” is a folk etymology reflected in the Greek ἐγρηγορός, while the original meaning is a phonetic variant of the Hebrew-Aramaic term ‫“ ציר‬messenger,” hence “angel” (this idea was suggested to me by Prof. Baruch Schwartz of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem). The folk etymology is already represented in the Book of Parables (1 En. 39:12–13 et al.) 42 Drawnel, The Aramaic Astronomical Book, 295–97. For the appropriation of Mesopotamian material in the Astronomical Book see also Ben-Dov, Head of All Years, 153–96. 43 For this question, see Ratzon, “Gates Cosmology.” It was recently suggested that the small cuneiform fragment BM 76829 reflects a division of the horizon to arcs in a similar way to the Astronomical Book of Enoch: Jeanette C. Fincke, Wayne Horowitz, and Eshbal Ratzon, “BM 76829: A Small Astronomical Fragment with Important Implications for the Late Babylonian Astronomy and the Astronomical Book of Enoch,” Archive for the History of Exact Sciences 75 (2020): 349–68. This interpretation of the fragment has been rejected, however, in a subsequent study: John Steele, “An Alternative Interpretation of BM 76829: Astrological Schemes for Length of Life and Parts of the Body,” Archive for

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While the Astronomical Book contains additional features which are specifically Jewish, like the division of the lunar cycles to septenary units of 14 rather than of 15, the element of the heavenly gates is not specifically Jewish. How could this innovation have come about? This is not a mere textualphilological question, but rather a deeper sociological one: what grasp did this material have in the life of the (non-Jewish) Levant? Which institutions endorsed it? What kind of prestige did it enjoy and who conveyed this prestige? The appearance of innovations in the Astronomical Book requires the existence of an active scientific environment in the Levant, in or around the Early Hellenistic period. That environment absorbed Babylonian ideas while at the same time weaving new ideas around them. Due to recent discoveries, we may now have a hint as to one potential such environment. The excavations in the Edomite-Sidonian city of Maresha yielded an enormous variety of finds from the transition between the Persian and Hellenistic periods, including many material finds and a large number of ostraca. In recent years, work on the subterranean complex 169 yielded a rich material find which points to a cultic background for this complex and/or its immediate vicinity.44 The cultic find includes numerous astragaloi (knucklebones used as lots in divination), circumcised phalloi, kernos lamps, various figurines, and domestic stone altars, rendering the cultic context certain. The find in this complex lacks clear stratigraphy, but dates typologically between the 4th and the late 2nd centuries BCE.45 Together with this rich material find, a large number of Aramaic ostraca were found, 384 altogether, 137 of which may be classified as containing divinatory material. An interesting division turns up from this find: while from the Ptolemaic period onwards all administrative ostraca were written in Greek, divinatory ostraca remained in Aramaic throughout the period of occupation.46 It is this environment, producing divinatory texts in Aramaic next to a cultic complex of the Edomite-Phoenician community, which gives an interesting clue with regard to the Sitz im Leben of the Astronomical Book. I do not claim, of course, that the book was written in Maresha, but that the Maresha complex provides a good example for such an intellectual milieu in a non-Jewish city in Persian-Hellenistic Palestine. the History of Exact Sciences 76 (2022): 1–14. The interpretation by Fincke et al. thus remains exceptional in Mesopotamian scholarship and cannot be accepted until further evidence is adduced in its favor. 44 Esther Eshel and Ian Stern, “Divination Texts of Maresha – Archeology and Texts,” Archeology and Text 1 (2017): 1–25, found at https://archaeology-text.cas2.lehigh.edu/ content/volume-1-2017. This corpus, interestingly, was found within 30 meters of the Olympiodoros inscription, a rather important find from the early Seleucid rule; see Ian Stern, “Maresha Inscriptions Provide Context for a Royal Stele in the Israel Museum,” NEA 72 (2009): 60–61. 45 Eshel and Stern, “Divination Texts of Maresha,” 9. 46 Ian Stern, oral presentation at Bar-Ilan University, November 2015.

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The ostraca have been studied by Esther Eshel and various associates, and a first sample of them has already been published.47 Eshel’s interpretation of the ostraca as divinatory rests mainly on the frequent attestation of the particle ‫הן‬, “if,” or ‫הן לא‬, “if not,” bringing to mind the protasis of omen texts (Eshel), or, preferably, a set of oracle questions or the casting of lots to decide between binary options requiring yes/no answers. Unfortunately, the task of deciphering these ostraca is extremely difficult and the editors must yet make much progress before publication. One ostracon, partially published by Eshel, mentions the Babylonian term utukkū, “demons,” in the Aramaic form ‫אותוקא‬. Another ostracon employs seemingly astronomical or astrological vocabulary such as the words ‫מחשא‬, ‫חזוא‬, ‫נזח‬, ‫ נזך‬associated with Akkadian or Persian cognates. In turn, Eshel has suggested connecting this ostracon with some technical terms known from the Aramaic Astronomical Book, in particular 4Q211 1 ii; 4Q209 26 5–6 (= 1 En. 78:17).48 How should we evaluate the presence of technical divinatory terms in Maresha of the early Hellenistic period? Does it mean that there was a stream of tradition between contemporary Babylon, or maybe Uruk, to southern Palestine? This explanation could not account for the great majority of Aramaic terms in the corpus which do not have an Akkadian cognate, and must therefore relate to a local tradition. This local tradition absorbed elements from Babylonian divination, which was after all a central source of such knowledge, and wove a typical Levantine hybrid around them. No direct connection of Maresha with Babylonian texts should be assumed, but rather a wider conception of Levantine science. This is exactly the kind of Sitz im Leben one should assume for the Aramaic science preserved in the Astronomical Book of Enoch.

III. Conclusion Departing from the well-attested presence of Babylonian elements in Jewish Aramaic texts, this paper asked how one should conceive of this transmission of knowledge. The term “influence” does not do justice to this transfer of ideas, obstructing the picture rather than clarifying it. In this paper I aimed to 47

See initially Esther Eshel, Émile Puech, and Amos Kloner, “Aramaic Scribal Exercises of the Hellenistic Period from Maresha: Bowls A and B,” BASOR 345 (2007): 39–62, and more recently Eshel and Stern, “Divination Texts.” Of particular interest is Esther Eshel, “Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Light of New Epigraphic Finds,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Context: Integrating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Study of Ancient Texts, Languages and Cultures, ed. Armin Lange, Emanuel Tov, and Matthias Weigold; in association with Bennie H. Reynolds III, VTSup 140 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011), 177–97. 48 Eshel, “Aramaic Texts from Qumran.”

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highlight two aspects of this interaction, which can shed light on our understanding. The first is an emphasis on adoption and adaptation instead of influence, thus restoring the agency of the receiving side. My second intention was to draw attention to the Levant as a creative cultural scene, and on the way that Mesopotamian elements were absorbed in the Levant while being merged with local elements and with additional, Hellenistic elements. The Aramaic Jewish literature took an active part in this lively cultural milieu, and thus the Mesopotamian elements in it should be seen in a wider and more complex view. Pointing out some clues connecting the origins of the Enochic tradition with the area of the Upper Galilee, Hermon and Lebanon mountains, I discussed the way to assess the presence of elements from the Gilgamesh epic in the Book of Giants in this light. The Enochic author did not have direct knowledge of Gilgamesh, neither in Akkadian nor in Aramaic, but rather only indirect knowledge with elements of the tradition, especially those relating to Gilgamesh’s journey to the Cedar Forest, that is to Mount Lebanon. Seen in this light, the list of divinatory disciplines in 1 Enoch 8 is not a direct attestation of Mesopotamian practices. Rather, these arts should be seen as reflecting a local, Levantine practice of this corpus. The Phoenician History of Philo of Byblos has then been pointed out as a relevant Levantine cognate tradition to that of the Watchers, on the same level with the Mesopotamian myth of the apkallū or maybe even superseding it. I then examined the Astronomical Book of Enoch in the same light, aiming to depict it not as a frozen offshoot of a distant Mesopotamian discipline, but rather as the reflection of a lively Levantine tradition. That tradition certainly knew Mesopotamian teachings, but it appropriated them into a new institutional and intellectual environment. Such a view accounts for both the similarities and the differences between the Jewish-Aramaic and the Akkadian corpora. Finally, I attempted to show that the cultural exchange involved not only textual modifications, but also the creation of a new institutional Sitz im Leben for science and divination. A new hoard of divinatory ostraca from Maresha, placed in a cultic context in 4th–2nd centuries BCE southern Judea, may indicate the setting of the Aramaic Astronomical Book.

Bibliography Albani, Matthias. Astronomie und Schöpfungsglaube: Untersuchungen zum astronomischen Henochbuch. WMANT 68. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1994. Angel, Joseph. “Reading the Book of Giants in Literary and Historical Context.” DSD 21 (2014): 313–46. Annus, Amar. “On the Origin of the Watchers: A Comparative Study of the Antediluvian Wisdom in Mesopotamian and Jewish Traditions.” JSP 19 (2010): 277–320.

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Annus, Amar. The Overturned Boat: Intertextuality of the Adapa Myth and Exorcist Literature. SAAS 24. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2016. Ashley, Kathleen, and Véronique Plesch. “The Cultural Processes of ‘Appropriation.’” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 32 (2002): 1–15. Ayali-Darshan, Noga. The Storm-God and the Sea: The Origin, Versions, and Diffusion of a Myth throughout the Ancient Near East. Translated by Liat Keren. ORA 37. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020. Baumgarten, Albert. The Phoenician History of Philo of Byblos: A Commentary. EPRO 89. Leiden: Brill, 1981. Beaulieu, Paul-Alain. “The Babylonian Background of the Motif of the Fiery Furnace in Daniel 3.” JBL 128 (2009): 273–90. Ben-Dov, Jonathan. Head of All Years: Astronomy and Calendars at Qumran in their Ancient Context. STDJ 78. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Ben-Dov, Jonathan. “Nebuchadnezzar: Seeing Twice Double in Babylonia and the Levant.” HBAI 7 (2018): 3–16. Ben-Dov, Jonathan. “Flooding in the Lebanon Forest: Relics of Levantine Mythology in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Meghillot 14 (2018–2019): 189–203 [Hebrew]. Ben-Dov, Jonathan, and Seth Sanders, eds. Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature. New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014. Bhayro, Siam. The Shemihazah and Asael Narrative of 1 Enoch 6–11: Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary, with Reference to Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical Antecedents. AOAT 322. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005. Bohak, Gideon. “Ethnic Portraits in Greco-Roman Literature.” Pages 207–23 in Cultural Borrowings and Ethnic Appropriations in Antiquity. Edited by Erich S. Gruen. OeO 8. Stuttgart: Steiner, 2005. Bonnet, Corinne. Les enfants de Cadmos: Le paysage religieux de la Phénicie hellénistique. De l’archéologie à l’histoire 63. Paris: de Boccard, 2015. Clancier, Philippe. “Cuneiform Culture’s Last Guardians: The Old Urban Notability of Hellenistic Uruk.” Pages 752–73 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2011. Cogan, Morton. Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah and Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B.C.E. SBLMS 19. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1974. Collins, John J. The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature. 3rd edition. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2016. Darshan, Guy. After the Flood: Stories of Origins in the Hebrew Bible and Eastern Mediterranean Literature. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2018 [Hebrew]. Dimant, Devorah. “Not Exile in the Desert but Exile in the Spirit: The Pesher of Isa 40:3 in the Rule of the Community and the History of the Scrolls Community.” Pages 455–64 in eadem, History, Ideology and Bible Interpretation in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Collected Studies. FAT 90. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014. Drawnel, Henryk. “Between Akkadian ṭupšarrūtu and Aramaic ‫ספר‬: Some Notes on the Social Context of the Early Enochic Literature.” RevQ 24/95 (2010): 373–403. Drawnel, Henryk. The Aramaic Astronomical Book (4Q208–4Q211) from Qumran: Text, Translation, and Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. Ebach, Jürgen. Weltentstehung und Kulturentwicklung bei Philo von Byblos: Ein Beitrag zur Überlieferung der biblischen Urgeschichte im Rahmen des altorientalischen und antiken Schöpfungsglaubens. BWANT 108. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1979.

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Efrati, Shlomi. “On Angels and Mountains: Notes on the Levantine and Aramaic Background of the Fallen Angels.” In The Aramaic Manuscripts of Enoch: Proceedings of the Lublin Enoch Seminar. Edited by Henryk Drawnel. JSJSup. Leiden: Brill, forthcoming. Eshel, Esther. “Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Light of New Epigraphic Finds.” Pages 177–97 in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Context: Integrating the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Study of Ancient Texts, Languages and Cultures. Edited by Armin Lange, Emanuel Tov, and Matthias Weigold; in association with Bennie H. Reynolds III. VTSup 140. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011. Eshel, Esther, Émile Puech, and Amos Kloner. “Aramaic Scribal Exercises of the Hellenistic Period from Maresha: Bowls A and B.” BASOR 345 (2007): 39–62. Eshel, Esther, and Ian Stern. “Divination Texts of Maresha – Archeology and Texts.” Archeology and Text 1 (2017): 1–25. Found at https://archaeology-text.cas2.lehigh.edu/ content/volume-1-2017. Fincke, Jeanette C., Wayne Horowitz, and Eshbal Ratzon. “BM 76829: A Small Astronomical Fragment with Important Implications for the Late Babylonian Astronomy and the Astronomical Book of Enoch.” Archive for the History of Exact Sciences 75 (2020): 349–68. Fröhlich, Ida. “The Figures of the Watchers in the Enochic Tradition.” Henoch 33 (2011): 6–26. Fröhlich, Ida. “Enmeduranki and Gilgamesh: Mesopotamian Figures in Aramaic Enoch Traditions.” Pages 637–53 in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam. Edited by Eric F. Mason et al. JSOTSup 153. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Fröhlich, Ida. “Stars and Spirits: Heavenly Bodies in Ancient Jewish Aramaic Tradition.” AS 13 (2015): 111–27. Geller, Mark J., and Daniel T. Potts. “The Gymnasium at Babylon and Jerusalem.” Pages 387–95 in The Archeology and Material Culture of the Babylonian Talmud. Edited by Mark J. Geller. IJS Studies in Judaica 16. Leiden: Brill, 2015. George, Andrew R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts. 2 vols. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Goff, Matthew. “Gilgamesh the Giant: The Qumran ‘Book of Giants’ Appropriation of ‘Gilgamesh’ Motifs.” DSD 16 (2009): 221–53. Gruen, Erich S. Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1998. Gruen, Erich S., ed. Cultural Borrowings and Ethnic Appropriations in Antiquity. OeO 8. Stuttgart: Steiner, 2005. Hays, Christopher B. “Chirps from the Dust: The Affliction of Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4:30 in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context.” JBL 126 (2007): 305–25. Hodos, Tamar. Local Responses to Colonization in the Iron Age Mediterranean. London: Routledge, 2006. Holm, Tawny. Of Courtiers and Kings: The Biblical Daniel Narratives and Ancient StoryCollections. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. Honigman, Sylvie. Tales of High Priests and Taxes: The Books of the Maccabees and the Judean Rebellion Against Antiochos IV. Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2014. Idel, Moshe. “ŠMYHZH: Shamhazay/Shamhaza’y/Shamay’a + Haze’/Shamayahaze’.” Lešonenu 78 (2016): 37–42 [Hebrew]. Jursa, Michael, and Céline Debourse. “A Babylonian Priestly Martyr, a King-like Priest, and the Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature.” WZKM 107 (2017): 77–98.

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Kosmin, Paul. “Indigenous Revolts in 2 Maccabees – The Persian Version.” CP 111 (2016): 32–53. Kratz, Reinhard. “Nabonid in Qumran.” Pages 253–70 in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident. Edited by Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Margarete van Ess, and Joachim Marzahn. Topoi: Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 1. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Kuhrt, Amélie, and Susan Sherwin-White, eds. Hellenism in the East: The Interaction of Greek and non-Greek Civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1987. Kvanvig, Helge S. Roots of Apocalyptic: The Mesopotamian Background of the Enoch Figure and of the Son of Man. WMANT 61. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1988. Kvanvig, Helge S. Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic. An Intertextual Reading. JSJSup 149. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2011. Lemaire, André. “Nabonide et Gilgamesh: L’araméen en Mésopotamie et à Qoumrân.” Pages 125–39 in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008. Edited by Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra. STDJ 94. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010. López-Ruiz, Carolina. “‘Not that which Can be Found Among the Greeks’: Philo of Byblos and Phoenician Cultural Identity in the Roman East.” Religion in the Roman Empire 3 (2017): 366–92. Machiela, Daniel A. “The Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls and the Historical Development of Jewish Apocalyptic Literature.” Pages 147–56 in The Seleucid and Hasmonean Periods and the Apocalyptic Worldview: The First Enoch Seminar Nangeroni Meeting, Villa Cagnola, Gazzada (June 25–28, 2012). Edited by Lester L. Grabbe and Gabriele Boccaccini. LSTS 88. London: T&T Clark, 2016. Moyer, Ian S. Egypt and the Limits of Hellenism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Newsom, Carol A. “Why Nabonidus? Excavating Traditions from Qumran, the Hebrew Bible, and Neo-Babylonian Sources.” Pages 57–79 in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Transmission of Traditions and Production of Texts. Edited by Sariana Metso, Hindy Najman, and Eileen Schuller. STDJ 92. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010. Nickelsburg, George W.E. 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1– 36; 81–108. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2001. Oshima, Takayoshi. “Nebuchadnezzar’s Madness (Daniel 4:30): Reminiscence of a Historical Event or a Legend?” Pages 645–75 in vol. 2 of “Now it Happened in Those Days”: Studies in Biblical, Assyrian, and Other Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Mordechai Cogan on His 75th Birthday. Edited by Amita Baruchi-Unna et al. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017. Popović, Mladen. “Networks of Scholars: The Transmission of Astronomical and Astrological Learning between Babylonians, Greeks and Jews.” Pages 151–91 in Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature. Edited by Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders. New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014. Proust, Christine, and John Steele, eds. Scholars and Scholarship in Late Babylonian Uruk. Berlin: Springer, 2019. Puech, Émile. “Les songes des fils de Šemihazah dans Le Livre des Géants à Qumrân.” CRAI 144/1 (2000): 7–25. Puech, Émile. Qumrân Grotte 4.XXII: Textes araméens, première partie: 4Q529–549. DJD XXXI. Oxford: Clarendon, 2001.

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Puech, Émile. “Le volume XXXVII des Discoveries in the Judean Desert et les manuscrits araméens du lot Starcky.” Pages 47–61 in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June–2 July 2008. Edited by Katell Berthelot and Daniel Stökl Ben Ezra. STDJ 94. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010. Ratzon, Eshbal. “The Gates Cosmology of the Astronomical Book of Enoch.” DSD 22 (2015): 93–111. Reed, Annette Yoshiko. “Writing Jewish Astronomy in the Early Hellenistic Age: The Enochic Astronomical Book as Aramaic Wisdom and Archival Impulse.” DSD 24 (2017): 1–37. Reeves, John C. Jewish Lore in Manichaean Cosmogony: Studies in the Book of Giants Traditions. HUCM. Cincinnati, OH: Hebrew Union College Press, 1992. Sabra, Abdelhamid I. “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Science in Medieval Islam: A Preliminary Statement.” History of Science 25 (1987): 223–43. Samet, Nili. “The Gilgamesh Epic and the Book of Qohelet: A New Look.” Biblica 96 (2015): 375–90. Sanders, Seth. From Adapa to Enoch: Scribal Culture and Religious Vision in Judea and Babylon. TSAJ 167. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. Satlow, Michael. “Beyond Influence: Toward a New Historiographic Paradigm.” Pages 37–54 in Jewish Literatures and Cultures: Contexts and Intertext. Edited by Anita Norich and Yaron Z. Eliav. BJS 349. Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 2008. Steele, John M. “Short Time in Mesopotamia.” Pages 90–124 in Down to the Hour: Short Time in the Ancient Mediterranean and Near East. Edited by Kassandra J. Miller and Sarah L. Symons. Time, Astronomy, and Calendars 8. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2020. Steele, John M. “An Alternative Interpretation of BM 76829: Astrological Schemes for Length of Life and Parts of the Body.” Archive for the History of Exact Sciences 76 (2022): 1–14. Stern, Ian. “Maresha Inscriptions Provide Context for a Royal Stele in the Israel Museum.” NEA 72 (2009): 60–61. Stuckenbruck, Loren T. “Giant Mythology and Demonology: From the Ancient Near East to the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 318–38 in Die Dämonen – Demons: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt – The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of Their Environment. Edited by Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K.F. Diethard Römheld. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003. VanderKam, James C. Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition. CBQMS 16. Washington, DC: The Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1984. Waerzeggers, Caroline. “The Prayer of Nabonidus in the Light of Hellenistic Babylonian Literature.” Pages 64–75 in Jewish Cultural Encounters in the Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern World. Edited by Mladen Popović et al. JSJSup 178. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Will, Édouard. “‘Influence’: Note sur un pseudo-concept.” Pages 803–9 in idem, Historica Graeco-Hellenistica: Choix d’écrits 1953–1993. Paris: de Boccard, 1998.

Writing Science, Writing Magic: Possible Functions for the Act of Writing. Scientific Knowledge Reflected in 4Q560 Tupá Guerra

This paper will look at the material evidence, in this case, manuscripts, for the production of science in Aramaic preserved in the Dead Sea Scrolls. From this perspective, I will investigate the particularities of the application of scientific knowledge and how the record of such knowledge could be related to the production of it, using the case of 4Q560 as an example. I will look into the grammatical inconsistencies in 4Q560 and the possibility that it was crafted on purpose. Could the scribe who produced 4Q560 have intentionally written it in incorrect grammar and with words missing letters? Would that be a technique with some scientific significance? To explore this possibility, I will first turn my attention to the importance and significances of writing in the Second Temple period, including possible magical uses. After that, I will briefly explore the connection between magic and science and finally look closely at the example in 4Q560.

I. Writing, Magic, and Science As has been pointed out by many scholars, writing in antiquity is an activity which can represent more than the desire of collecting knowledge and preserving it. Ancient texts were often written in a way that was just readable by people who already knew them well,1 so the written format is part of a complex “literate matrix” that involves writing and oral performance as part of the same thing and not as separate units. The goal was to transmit the texts from mind to mind, and writing it was part of the process. The creative aspect of writing can be demonstrated not only for the creation of knowledge but it

1 David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 4.

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can also be extended to include the process of creation of identity, as shown by Carr.2 In his words: The fundamental idea is the following: as we look at how key texts like the Bible and other classic literature functioned in ancient cultures, what was primary was not how such texts were inscribed on clay, parchment, or papyri. Rather, what was truly crucial was how those written media were part of a cultural project of incising key cultural-religious traditions – word for word – on people’s minds.3

For those who copied the texts, writing was a way to convey cultural knowledge and was also part of the process of learning. This is particularly true for the Sumerian educational system, where Carr notes that the “school” is much more about shaping the mind than just learning how to write. It is the learning that creates the sense of “humanity” and the “Sumerian.” This elite is moulded by learning, and writing is part of the creation of this identity. The process of copying is also a process of learning, not just the content of the text, but also the correct way of reproducing it.4 The influence of the Sumero/Akkadian educational system in surrounding areas is observed by Carr, who points out that this system has influenced Jewish scribal culture.5 Writing in a Jewish environment was also a multifaceted process that serves for more than one purpose (recording, learning, production of knowledge, creation, magic). The aspect of creation and production in writing are key concepts that are often forgotten when texts are analyzed, particularly when the manuscript is likely a copy of another manuscript. The act of writing produces many results, among them at least one artefact, a manuscript or other type of physical object, and some immaterial results, like the content itself. It is in the immaterial products of writing that we can observe, for example, the formation of the identity of the Sumerian elite. It is also in the realm of the immaterial that magic can be observed. Before continuing, I would like to clarify that I am using the term magic as a heuristic tool, a working definition that will guide my interpretation of the past. I will follow the definition from the Oxford Dictionary that magic is: The use of ritual activities or observances which are intended to influence the course of events or to manipulate the natural world, usually involving the use of an occult or secret body of knowledge.

I do not claim to unpack the term, but I will use it to analyze a series of practices in antiquity. According to that definition magic is part of religion. When magic is understood as “the use of ritual activities or observances which are intended to influence the course of events” every religion incorporates 2

Ibid., 5. Ibid., 8. 4 Ibid., 31–34. 5 Ibid., 47. 3

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magical practices. Those practices were probably not seen as magical from the perspective of practitioners. I choose to use “magic” and not “liturgy” or “ritual” because I feel that magic is a term that incorporates more aspects of analysis, but I agree that this use is part of my “inability to fully escape the shackles of modern and almost inevitably Western concepts and terminology,” as defined by Bailey.6 The same concept of use of ritual activities, when applied to specific goals like healing and in an emic perspective, was possibly identified as science. Science for this paper is understood as an emic concept. As explored by many scholars7 scientific interest is widely available in Aramaic in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Scientific knowledge would be produced in order to understand the world, and the cure of diseases would be included in the same type of knowledge. From this perspective 4Q560, which is usually described as exorcistic or apotropaic,8 is also a work of science, and the magic used could also be classified as scientific. So in what sense is the writing in 4Q560 important to understand the science of healing and exorcism? 1. Connexions between Writing and Magic First, it is important to understand how magic and writing connect in other cases. One example of a magical use of writing in a Jewish context can be

6 Michael D. Bailey, “The Meanings of Magic,” Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft 1 (2006): 1–23, esp. 6. 7 E.g., Philip S. Alexander, “Enoch and the Beginnings of Jewish Interest in Natural Science,” in Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature, ed. Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders (New York: New York University Press; Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, 2014), 25–49; Jonathan Ben-Dov and Seth Sanders, “Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature,” in ibid., 7–8. 8 E.g., Philip S. Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls After Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, ed. Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam (Leiden; Boston; Cologne: Brill, 1999), 331–53, esp. 345; Gideon Bohak, Ancient Jewish Magic: A History (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 161–62; Esther Eshel, “Genres of Magical Texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Die Dämonen – Demons: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt – The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of Their Environment, ed. Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K.F. Diethard Römheld (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 395–415, esp. 396; Daniel K. Falk, “Liturgical Texts,” in The T&T Clark Companion to the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. George Brooke and Charlotte Hempel (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2018), 423– 34, esp. 426; Ida Fröhlich, “Demons, Scribes, and Exorcists in Qumran,” in Essays in Honour of Alexander Fodor on His Sixtieth Birthday, ed. K. Dévényi and T. Iványi, The Arabist: Budapest Studies in Arabic 23 (Budapest: Eötvös Loránd University Chair for Arabic Studies; Csoma de Kőrös Society Section of Islamic Studies, 2001), 73–81, esp. 73.

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observed in Numbers 5:23–27 which deals with a woman accused of infidelity. The passage is as follows: The priest is to write these curses on a scroll and then wash them off into the bitter water. He shall make the woman drink the bitter water that brings a curse, and this water that brings a curse and causes bitter suffering will enter her. The priest is to take from her hands the grain offering for jealousy, wave it before the Lord and bring it to the altar. The priest is then to take a handful of the grain offering as a memorial offering and burn it on the altar; after that, he is to have the woman drink the water. If she has made herself impure and been unfaithful to her husband, this will be the result: When she is made to drink the water that brings a curse and causes bitter suffering, it will enter her, her abdomen will swell and her womb will miscarry, and she will become a curse.9

The water that brings the curse can do that only because all the elements of the magical procedure are observed. There is a detailed description of the body movements and words to be said. But in addition to the words to be pronounced, there are words to be written. The water has the power of the written words in it, so by drinking it, the woman has the words inside her. The written word is fundamental in this act, since that is what makes the water capable of making the curse effective. This account shows how magical attitudes can be related to writing and the written word in a Jewish context. Given the importance of writing and that it was not a common skill, scribes have a fundamental role in magical scientific practice. It is possible that not every scribe was able to perform magical procedures, but it is clear that people who specialized in some type of magic would have had scribal ability. Among the Dead Sea Scrolls there is one text which could attest to magical training and writing. Brooke, in a recent article, argues that 4Q341 could be a scribal exercise by someone able to create “realia of magical practices.”10 This artefact would consist of any kind of magical material that requires something to be written, in Brooke’s words: “whether these be charms or amulets, or apotropaic psalms, or texts which could be used as blessings or curses, or some other ‘magic books’.” 4Q341 is in Hebrew, but there is no reason to believe that writing magical texts in Aramaic did not require training. The evidence of an exercise related to magic demonstrates how writing played a role in magic itself. The copied text which displays magic was possibly done by someone authorized to do so, someone specialized. An exorcism would not be different. The ritual had to be carried out by someone who had the ability to do so, and the ability to write things was possibly also necessary 9

Translation from Holy Bible, New International Version. George Brooke, “4Q341: An Exercise for Spelling and for Spells?,” in Writing and Ancient Near Eastern Society: Papers in Honour of Alan R. Millard, ed. Piotr Bienkowski, Christopher Mee, and Elizabeth Slater, JSJSup 426 (New York; London: Bloomsbury, 2005), 271–82, esp. 278. 10

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in some cases as part of the ritual. Here we have to understand that even exorcisms would probably be tailored according to the necessity of the client and it is possible that different rituals were used to achieve different goals. Those differences would be based on knowledge and observation, and all of those elements can be categorized as part of scientific thought and practice. In later periods we witness the central place of objects with written words on it in magical action. Magic bowls and amulets share a common aspect: the use of the written word to transform them from a daily object into a magical object. I do not claim that it is only the written word that creates “magical power,” but it is an important aspect of Aramaic magical artefacts. The transformation of an object into a magical object is a process that involves more than one action. A ritual might use objects that are already charged with magical power and/or infuse it with that power during the ritual. Writing is part of the process of learning magic also in modern settings. This can be briefly illustrated by the first step in the basic training of many Wiccan groups, writing a daily journal. On it, the person should record meditations, instructions how to alternate reading and practical projects, visualizations techniques, etc.11 Writing is not only an exercise of copying, but writing is also a learning exercise of knowing yourself and understanding the powers that surround you and how to use them. In the Hellenistic world, as demonstrated by magical papyri, many different types of written material were used for magical practices. We cannot discard that writing an exorcism was also part of the understanding of the same exorcism. If so, a magical book would be more than simply a recipe book but would be a particular instrument to each person capable of doing magic. The written word is an element of power in various magical practices. The grimoire of the magician is a fundamental tool for the practice. It is not only a “recipe book,” but it is also a learning process made of letters. Other examples of written pieces that had apotropaic qualities are the tefillin.12 The artefact was not created to be read. The many phylacteries found at Qumran possibly functioned as long-life amulets,13 which demonstrates the importance of the written text as an apotropaic aid and also reinforces how variable the reasons for writing are. The phylacteries contain Torah passages and it is not only the power of the words that protects but having it written is important. It may offer permanent protection since it is not possible to recite the passage continually and carry on with ordinary duties. The symbolical/ 11 Nikki Bado-Fralick, Coming to the Edge of the Circle: A Wiccan Initiation Ritual, AAR Academy Series (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 83. 12 Falk, “Liturgical Texts,” 426. 13 Norman Cohn, Cosmos, Chaos, and the World to Come: The Ancient Roots of Apocalyptic Faith (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2001), 55–102; Falk, “Liturgical Texts,” 426.

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magical use of it reinforces the importance of the written word. As pointed out by Carr: Within a largely oral world and even in oral-literate contexts, texts had a numinous power that we in the twenty-first century all too often forget. (…) We fail to grasp a crucial aspect of the ancient function of texts if we focus exclusively on their contents.14

The written word is an aspect of magical practices in different cultural settings in antiquity. How the written part of magic is used in a ritual is one aspect that we might never be able to recover, but we should be aware that our understanding of rituals as non-practitioners of it is very limited. One possible way to understand it better is to analyze insiders’ accounts of modern magical practitioners. Considering the evidence from the Dead Sea Scrolls and how magic is there recorded in written form, the act of writing was possibly also part of the incantation process. This would require a specialist, a scribe that was not only able to write but also to perform magic. So how does this apply to 4Q560?

II. 4Q560 In the case of 4Q560, the content points to an exorcistic text (or possibly an apotropaic one) produced either by an unskilled scribe or scrambled on purpose for some other reason. Considering how writing had more than one possible goal and how inscribing a manuscript could have a magical purpose (or a scientific one if we consider that magic can be perceived by those who practice it as scientific knowledge), it is important to look at the passages with more attention. 4Q560 (4QExorcism ar) is a leather manuscript recovered from Qumran Cave 4. It was officially published in 2009 by Puech in DJD XXXVII. It is a group of three fragments, and the copy is dated by Puech ca. 75 BCE.15 4Q560 is the clearest magical text that survived from Qumran, and it uses terminology similar to later Aramaic incantation texts.16 The editor notes that 4Q560 was possibly composed of more than one text, although it is likely that the preserved fragments were from the same text.17 4QExorcism ar is a particularly complex text, not only because its fragmentary state but mainly because of the grammatical inconsistencies. Some of the 14

Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart, 10. Ibid., 294. 16 Joseph Naveh, “Fragments of an Aramaic Magic Book from Qumran,” IEJ 48 (1998): 252–61; Douglas L. Penney and Michael O. Wise, “By the Power of Beelzebub: An Aramaic Incantation Formula from Qumran (4Q560),” JBL 113 (1994): 627–50, esp. 627. 17 Émile Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4.XXVII: Textes araméens, deuxième partie: 4Q550– 4Q575a, 4Q580–4Q587 et Appendices, DJD XXXVII (Oxford: Clarendon, 2009), 291. 15

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lines have more than one possible and likely translation. Penney and Wise18 point out, “such lapses are common in magical texts.” Naveh also agrees that some words from 4Q560 where “corrupted or deliberately altered.”19 The use of inverted writing is well attested in Jewish, Greek, and Samaritan magical practices from different periods. The inversion can include inverted letters, changes in the order of letters or in the order of words. The reasons for it are often related to protection against evil beings, as a way to confuse them.20 The fragmentary state of 4Q560 and the fact, pointed by Naveh,21 that it does not have a contemporary parallel makes the translation and interpretation of it even trickier. If we analyze lines 3 and 5 from Fragment 1, a pattern of alterations is possible:

‫[ עלל בבשרא לחלחיא דכרא וחלחלית‬ ‫נקבתא‬ ‫[ה בשנא פרכ דכר ופכית נקבתא‬ ‫מחתורי‬ ֯

3 5

enter into the flesh, the male Wasting and the female Wasting ]y during sleep, O male Shrinespirit and female Shrine-spirit, O ones who breach

In line 3 Penney and Wise22 reconstruct the beginning of the sentence as ‫אנה‬ ‫“( מומה לך כל‬I adjure you, all [who enter …]”), but I prefer to follow Puech23 and not make a reconstruction here. The rest of the sentence raises issues of grammar/ orthography that were analyzed in different ways. The word ‫לחלחיא‬ only occurs in this text and its translation is complex. Cook24 affirms that it can be from the root ‫חול‬, meaning “to dance, shake.” Naveh25 also follows this hypothesis, highlighting that it can be a derivate either from ‫ חול‬or from ‫חלחל‬ and it is attested in Ps 97:4; 114:7. He also believes that it denotes a disease, such as ague/malaria. The unusual word is faulty, according to Puech,26 although he believes that it is not possible to determine whether the faulty word was written in this way on purpose. He argues that ‫ לחלחיא‬is in parallel to ‫וחלחלית‬, and allows for the interpretation and translation as ‫לחלח)א( דכרא‬ (a/the male poison) plus a metathesis and two extra letters, ‫יא‬.27 18

Penney and Wise, “By the Power of Beelzebub,” 638. Naveh, “Fragments of an Aramaic Magic Book from Qumran,” 259. 20 Joseph Naveh, “Lamp Inscriptions and Inverted Writing,” IEJ 38 (1988): 40–43. 21 Naveh, “Fragments of an Aramaic Magic Book from Qumran,” 256–57. 22 Penney and Wise, “By the Power of Beelzebub,” 632. 23 Puech, DJD XXXVII (2009), 296. 24 Edward M. Cook, Dictionary of Qumran Aramaic (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 78. 25 Naveh, “Fragments of an Aramaic Magic Book from Qumran,” 259. 26 Puech, DJD XXXVII (2009), 297–98. 27 The “male poison” is understood, according to this analysis, as the subject of the verb Peal perfect (or participle) masculine singular ‫עלל בבשרא‬. The second part of the phrase, 19

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Following a different direction, Penney and Wise28 suggest that the word ‫ לחלחיא‬is actually missing a lamed and should be read as ‫“( לחלח)ל(יא‬to be wasted”), from the Aramaic ‫“( חלחל‬waste away”). They propose this based on the parallel with ‫( וחלחלית‬to be wasted + female ending) and on a similar occurrence in line 5, where there is also a pair of female and male things and where the appropriate end is also missing. In this reading ‫ לחלח)ל(יא‬has to be understood as a designation of a demon or as a proper name. Similarly to line 3, the pair of male–female in line 5 ‫פרכ דכר ופכית נקבתא‬ is a challenging translation. According to most scholars29 the word ‫ופכית‬ makes no sense. Cook,30 Puech,31 and Naveh32 suggest amending it as ‫ ופ>ר