Story and History: The Kings of Israel and Judah in Context (Forschungen Zum Alten Testament 2.Reihe) 9783161575549, 9783161575556, 3161575547

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Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2. Reihe Edited by Konrad Schmid (Zürich) · Mark S. Smith (Princeton) Hermann Spieckermann (Göttingen) · Andrew Teeter (Harvard)

105

Story and History The Kings of Israel and Judah in Context

edited by

Johannes Unsok Ro

Mohr Siebeck

Johannes Unsok Ro, born 1971; 1998 Master of Arts in Theological Studies at San Francisco Theological Seminary, USA; 2002 Doktor der Theologie at Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster, Germany; 2007 Master of Divinity at Drew University (Theological School), USA; currently Professor of Biblical Studies at International Christian University, Japan.

ISBN 978-3-16-157554-9 / eISBN 978-3-16-157555-6 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-157555-6 ISSN 1611-4914 / eISSN 25689-8367 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2. Reihe) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2019 by Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed by Laupp & Göbel in Gomaringen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Nädele in Nehren. Printed in Germany.

Preface This book was completed through the devoted collaboration of the contributors, who kindly accepted my invitation to this publication project, submitted their excellent manuscripts by the due date and suggested various insightful ideas for the improvement of the collaborative volume. I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to all of the contributors. It was a pure joy for me to have had the opportunity to work with these great and warmhearted scholars. I also wish to thank Prof. Konrad Schmid, Prof. Mark S. Smith and Prof. Hermann Spieckermann, who approved this volume for the Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2. Reihe series. I would also like to thank the members of the production team at Mohr Siebeck who faithfully and carefully brought this volume into existence. In addition, I owe a debt of gratitude to the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS) from the support of which the present volume has benefited through a KAKENHI research grant (15K02061). May 2019

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Contents Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . X Johannes Unsok Ro Introduction: The Gap and Overlap between Story and History . . . . . . . . . 1 Israel Finkelstein History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Shuichi Hasegawa The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Thomas Römer Biblical Historiography and History: The Books of Kings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 Jin H. Han Josiah’s Death in Megiddo: A Touchstone Case of Historiography . . . . . . . 67 Konrad Schmid The Conquests of Jerusalem 597 bce and 587 bce in History and in Biblical Interpretation (2 Kings 24–25) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 Johannes Unsok Ro Did Jeremiah Preach at the Temple of Jerusalem in the Year 609 bce? – An Inquiry into the ‘Deuteronomistic Editorial Layer’ in the Book of Jeremiah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Yigal Levin The Chronicler as an Historian: The Chronicler’s Reinterpretation of the Deuteronomistic History of Israel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Yoshinori Sano The Meeting of Croesus and Solon in Herodotus’ Histories I . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

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Contents

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index of Ancient Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

151 173 175 183 185

Abbreviations AB Anchor Bible ABG Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte ACSH Atala, cultures et sciences humaines AHRT Ancient History: Resources for Teachers AJBI Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute Alt Altertum Ant Antiquity AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament ASR American Sociological Review ATANT Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments ATD Das Alte Testament Deutsch ATSAT Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament AUSS Andrews University Seminary Studies BAR Biblical Archaeology Review BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research BBB Bonner biblische Beiträge BE Biblische Enzyklopädie BETL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium Bib Biblica BICSSup Supplements to Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies BN Biblische Notizen BWANT Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament BZ Biblische Zeitschrift BZAW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft CAH Cambridge Ancient History CBQMS Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series CHANES Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Series ClAnt Classical Antiquity CSHB Critical Studies in the Hebrew Bible CThMBW Calwer Theologische Monographien Reihe A, Bibelwissenschaft CurBR Currents in Biblical Research DBAT Dielheimer Blätter zum Alten Testament und seiner Rezeption in der Alten Kirche EABS European Association of Biblical Studies EdF Erträge der Forschung EHAT Exegetisches Handbuch zum Alten Testament EstBib Estudios Biblicos EvT Evangelische Theologie FAT Forschungen zum Alten Testament FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments GAT Grundrisse zum Alten Testament GRBS Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies HAT Handbuch zum Alten Testament HeBAI Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel Hist Historia HKAT Handkommentar zum Alten Testament

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Abbreviations

HSM Harvard Semitic Monographs HThKAT Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual Hum Humanities ICC International Critical Commentary IEJ Israel Exploration Journal IOSOT International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament ISJ Institución San Jerónimo ITS Indian Theological Studies JANEH Journal of Ancient Near Eastern History JANER Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions JANES Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Society JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies JClasS Journal of Classical Studies JETS Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society JhebS Journal of Hebrew Scriptures JNSL Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages JSJ Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Periods JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament JSOTSup Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series KD Kerygma und Dogma KAT Kommentar zum Alten Testament KHC Kurzer Hand-Kommentar zum Alten Testament LCL Loeb Classical Library Les Lěšonénu: A Journal for the Study of the Hebrew Language and Cognate Subjects Lev Levant LHBOTS The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies LMB Le Monde de la Bible NCB New Century Bible NEA Near Eastern Archaeology OBO Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis OJA Oxford Journal of Archaeology Ori Orient OTL Old Testament Library OTS Old Testament Studies OtSt Oudtestamentische Studiën OTWSA/OTSSA Oud Testamentisch Werkgezelshap Suid Afrika/Old Testament Society of South Africa PEQ Palestine Exploration Quarterly PFES Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society PNAS Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences RB Revue biblique RC Radiocarbon RGP Review of General Psychology RivB Revista Biblica RR Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme SAIS Studies in the Aramaic Interpretation of Scripture SBL Society of Biblical Literature SBLAIL Society of Biblical Literature Ancient Israel and Its Literature

Abbreviations

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SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series SBLSS Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series SBOT Sacred Books of the Old Testament Sem Semitica SemCl Semitica et Classica Semio Semiotica SF Social Forces SPQ Social Psychology Quarterly ST Studia Theologica: Nordic Journal of Theology TA Tel Aviv TB Theologische Bücherei: Neudrucke und Berichte aus dem 20. Jahrhundert Tran Transeuphratene TynBul Tyndale Bulletin UF Ugarit-Forschungen VF Verkündigung und Forschung VL Vetus Latina VT Vetus Testamentum VTSup Supplements to Vetus Testamentum. WBC Word Biblical Commentary WdO Die Welt des Orients WMANT Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament WS Wiener Studien ZABR Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte ZAW Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZBK Zürcher Bibelkommentare ZDPV Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins

Introduction: The Gap and Overlap between Story and History Johannes Unsok Ro 1. Introduction In recent centuries, and especially the last decades, critical scholarship on the Hebrew Bible has brought to light a large gap between biblical portrayals of the historical reality of ancient Israel,1 on the one hand, and historical-critical reconstructions of the actual past, on the other.2 The scientific presentation of ancient Israel’s history can no longer be considered as a more or less critical narration of the accounts in the Hebrew Bible.3 However, the heyday of academic discussions related to the historicity4 of the Hebrew Bible seems to have passed. One no longer hears so frequently the passionate, sometimes even overheated debates between the so-called “minimalists” and “maximalists.”5 But the problems they struggled to solve still remain unsettled. For some scholars, the Hebrew Bible is still an important source that contains significant evidence and trustworthy information about the historical reality and actual past of ancient 1 Davies makes a threefold discernment between “historical Israel,” “biblical Israel” and “ancient Israel” (Davies 1992, 11). Even though his argument is highly insightful, this chapter will not employ his terminology. 2 In this chapter, for the sake of convenience and simplicity, I designate “the biblical portrayals of the historical reality of ancient Israel” as “story” and “the historical-critical reconstructions of the actual past” as “history.” 3 Krüger 2008, 4. 4 Following the Oxford English Dictionary, I understand “historicity” as “the fact, quality, or character of being situated in history; esp. historical accuracy or authenticity” (“historicity, n.” OED Online, Oxford University Press, July 2018, www.oed.com/view/Entry/87305. Accessed 4 October 2018). 5 In the 1990s, the term “minimalist” began to emerge as a designation for scholars who rejected the Hebrew Bible’s historical value, in particular for the premonarchic and monarchic period of ancient Israel. Scholars such as Niels Peter Lemche, Thomas L. Thompson, Philip R. Davies and Keith W. Whitelam are included in this appellation (for the summarized ideas of “minimalists” cf. Moore and Kelle 2011, 33–37). There have been a number of critics of the minimalists. They have attempted to demonstrate that the Hebrew Bible is historically trustworthy in many details concerning the premonarchic and monarchic periods. The most conservative and combative opponents of the minimalists have been called “maximalists.” Iain Provan, V. Philips Long, Tremper Longman III and William Dever are the best-known maximalists, although one should note that Dever would not regard himself as a maximalist (cf. Provan et al. 2003; Dever 2001).

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Israel. For others, most, if not all, of the historicity of the Hebrew Bible has simply collapsed.6 Students and scholars of the Hebrew Bible cannot ignore or even remain indifferent to the gap and overlap between story and history. After the Enlightenment, historicity became one of the main concerns for Hebrew Bible studies. Of course, Hebrew Bible scholarship concerns much more than the history or the historiography7 of ancient Israel, containing many other aspects and areas of study such as literature, law, wisdom, ethics, theology, mythology and linguistics. However, considerable amounts of at times influential research, study and interpretation related to the Hebrew Bible have been and still are based on the history or the historiography of ancient Israel.

2. The Historical Development of Research on the Story and History of Ancient Israel During the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, historians gradually came to believe that the research they performed using the critical method of searching for historical truth was equated with what really occurred in time and space.8 Thus, one can understand the rise of historical criticism reflected in the Wellhausian hypothesis and its successors as a creation of modernity.9 The principles of historical-critical biblical scholarship have been formed and shaped since the middle of the eighteenth century. In particular, after Johann Philipp Gabler’s inaugural address in 1787, the historical aspect gradually emerged as one of the essential elements of biblical scholarship. Biblical scholars started to develop diachronic source divisions within the Bible. In the view of biblical scholars of the nineteenth century, the different methods of historical-critical investigation equipped researchers to clarify not only the formation history of the biblical text, but also the history of ancient Israel and its religion. Whereas the positivism and developmentalism of the nineteenth century diverges considerably from the rationalism and empiricism of the eighteenth century, a striking continuity exists between them regarding the epistemological view that considers 6 For example, cf. Lemche 2008, 299–326; 2015, passim: “Until at a fairly late point in Israel’s history, nothing happened as told by the Old Testament, and, in fact, only a very few events mentioned by the historical books in the Old Testament related to the actual events in the history of ancient Palestine. The minimalist quest has accordingly been to explain why we have this discrepancy between story and history, between the biblical version and the ‘real’ history of the ancient Levant, including Palestine and historical Israel” (Lemche 2015, 4). 7 In this chapter, I use “historiography” to mean “the writing of a historical text.” How­ ever, other contributors may use this term with a different meaning and connotation. Readers should pay due attention to the fact that the contributors of this volume do not necessarily share unified meanings or connotations for terms such as “history,” “historicity,” “historiography” and so on. 8 Aylmer 1997, 249–80; Lemche 2008, 35; Lorenz 2009, 393–403. 9 Brueggemann 1997, 12.

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a human observer to be an uninterested and uninvolved expositor.10 Therefore, until the middle of the twentieth century the mainstream of historical-critical Hebrew Bible scholarship concluded that it had answered almost all historical inquiries other than a few minor details.11 A look into the history of biblical research after that time should recall the debates related to Gerhard von Rad’s Old Testament Theology. Von Rad poses the problem in its most radical form when he juxtaposes two versions of Israel’s history.12 On the one hand, the portrayal of ancient Israel must be accepted as it is (in my terminology, it is “story”). It represents the biblical expression portraying divine redemptive actions. On the other hand, one should reconstruct Israel’s historical reality by employing modern historical-critical methodology (in my terminology, it is “history”). Hans Conzelmann posed a number of engaging questions to von Rad about story and history, such as: What are the original and fundamental facts in the biblical story and how do they relate to the interpretations given by ancient Israel?13 Von Rad answered emphatically, “there are no bruta facta at all. We always have history only in the form of interpretations, only in the reflection.”14 He affirms, “Historical investigation searches for a critically assured minimum – the kerygmatic picture tends toward a theological maximum.”15 However, his strict distinction between the kerygmatic version of Israel’s historical reality on the one hand and the historical-critical version on the other has been criticized. For instance, Franz Hesse argued that von Rad only considered the kerygmatic version of Israel’s historical reality theologically relevant.16 Von Rad’s sharp distinction between story and history had an enormous impact on the subsequent generation of Hebrew Bible scholarship and furthermore on systematic theology. Numerous developments derived from this dichotomy. It is well known that Wolfhart Pannenberg was deeply influenced by von Rad’s concept of history. Even though Pannenberg valued Barth’s as well as Bultmann’s emphasis on eschatology, he was not willing to accept fully their de-historicized versions of eschatology, since the versions contradicted the accounts of the Hebrew Bible upheld by von Rad.17 Pannenberg and his colleagues, including Rolf Rendtorff and Ulrich Wilckens, have undertaken a reconciliation 10 Brueggemann

1997, 13. 2008, 43. 12 Von Rad 1957, 111–20. 13 Conzelmann 1964, 116. 14 Author’s translation from the German text: “Bruta facta gibt es überhaupt nicht; wir haben die Geschichte immer nur in Gestalt von Deutungen, nur in der Spiegelung” (von Rad 1964, 393). 15 Von Rad 1962, 108: “Die historische Forschung sucht ein kritisch gesichertes Minimum; das kerygmatische Bild tendiert nach einem theologischen Maximum” (von Rad 1957, 114). 16 Hesse 1958, 7–8. 17 Zehnder 2010, 130. 11 Lemche

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of von Rad’s two portrayals of ancient Israel’s historical reality.18 While von Rad attempts to maintain the tension between story and history, Pannenberg strives to merge the two versions of historiography proposed by von Rad. Von Rad’s two portrayals of Israel’s past, namely a critically assured mini­mum (close to a minimalist position) and a theological maximum (close to a maxi­ malist position), anticipated the debates between minimalists and maxi­malists in the 1990s.19 In particular, Niels Peter Lemche does not hide the influence of von Rad’s concept of a kerygmatic version of Israel’s past on his scholarship. He states, “the story remains even if nothing like it happened in real life. With this in mind, we may now proceed to place the content of the story of Israel in the Old Testament in focus. It is of little or no importance whether it reflects any histor­ ical event or is totally fictive. From this perspective, von Rad’s theology remains important.”20 Lemche radicalizes von Rad’s idea of a kerygmatic version of an­ cient Israel’s past to a certain degree by arguing that the theological study of the Hebrew Bible is the study of literature without a concern for historicity.21 Thus, in retrospect, the discussions related to von Rad’s Old Testament Theology served as a forerunner to the debates between minimalists and maximalists and, beyond that, to some current inquiries concerning the story and history of ancient Israel. During the twentieth century, there were many different directions in the field of the history of ancient Israel. Among them, in particular, the schools of William F. Albright and Albrecht Alt deeply influenced the tendency and ori­ entation of the field.22 The two schools existed side by side and played preemi­ nent roles until the 1970s.23 However, since the 1970s, their academic authority has weakened considerably, mainly due to the minimalist movement.24 One can view the modern minimalist movement concerning the historiography of an­ cient Israel as starting around 1974.25 In that year, Thomas Thompson published his Historicity of the Patriarchal Narratives. Shortly thereafter in 1975, John Van Seters’ Abraham in History and Tradition appeared. These books attack the 18 Pannenberg

1961, 129–40; Rendtorff 1970, 21–41; Wilckens 1970, 42–90. course, it should be noted that the maximalist position cannot be fully equated with von Rad’s kerygmatic version of history. While the maximalist approach denotes a spectrum within the critical reconstruction of historical reality, von Rad’s kerygmatic version of histor­ ical reality is distinct from such critical methodology. 20 Lemche 2008, 295. 21 Lemche 2008, 350. 22 Moore 2006, 47–69; Lemche 2008, 71–72. 23 Of course, neither Hebrew Bible scholarship nor the field of the historiography of ancient Israel in the twentieth century were monolithic or bipolar. For a detailed summary cf. Bruegge­ mann 1997, 15–114; Zevit 2000, 1–80; Lemche 2008, 284–392 among others. 24 On the other hand, it is worthwhile to acknowledge that the Albright school is still popular in North America and that the Alt school also retains many followers in continental Europe. 25 Grabbe 2017, 2. I wish to express my thanks to Lester L. Grabbe, Ehud Ben Zvi, Łukasz Niesiołowski-Spanò and Emanuel Pfoh who made available to me the unpublished papers they read at the 2017 SBL International Meeting. 19 Of

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scholarly consensus related to the patriarchal narratives of Genesis in a compel­ ling manner and contain trenchant criticisms of the Albrightian as well as the Altian approach to biblical historiography, in particular the former. However, they only constitute the beginning of a long journey. In the early 1990s, the min­ imalism of the “Copenhagen school” emerged. In this school, Thompson and Lemche started to publish books reflecting radical scepticism about the Hebrew Bible as a historical source. The influential monograph In Search of ‘Ancient Israel’ (1992) by Philip Davies followed their lead. Since then intensive debates between minimalists and maximalists have occurred.

3. The Methodological and Ideological Gap between the Minimalists and the Maximalists There have always been debates between those who greatly esteemed the ­value of the Hebrew Bible as a historical source on the one hand and those who were rather skeptical regarding the historicity of the Hebrew Bible on the other. However, the debates between minimalists and maximalists distinguish them­ selves due to the radical and fundamental contrast between the two sides of the debate. In the 1990s, biblical scholars began to investigate the biblical texts more sensitively and consciously to establish what one could regard as a solid foundation for historical knowledge of ancient Israel and Judah. Over the last three decades, considerable change and a paradigm shift took place in biblical scholarship through the investigation of the historical reality of ancient Israel and Judah.26 For example, the majority of biblical scholars currently consider the narratives of “conquest” or “settlement” in the book of Joshua as a literary creation devoid of any historicity.27 Lester L. Grabbe and Ehud Ben Zvi indicate that the difference between min­ imalists and maximalists concerns methodology rather than substance or, more accurately, that it is ideological.28 In other words, the core of the debates consists of the methodology and ideology regarding the historiography of ancient Israel. For instance, Lemche writes: The basic difference between maximalists and minimalists is that the maximalists accept the version of the past found in the Bible as ‘true’ until proven otherwise, whereas the minimalists claim that there is no reason to put faith into the biblical story unless it can be proven to have happened by applying normal historical procedures as found in gen­ eral history.29 26 Niesiołowski-Spanò

2017, 3. this issue, see also the section “7. Early Traditions in the Bible: How Far Back Can They Go?” in Finkelstein’s article below. 28 Grabbe 2017, 1–8; Ben Zvi 2017b, 1–16. 29 Lemche 2015, 4. 27 On

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However, this seemingly clear methodological statement hides plenty of riddles. Ben Zvi raises questions concerning the aforementioned methodological principles as follows: what does the term ‘proven’ mean in the mentioned text? What does it mean that something ‘has happened’? Does ‘what happened’ refer to a punctual event that has significance in itself, or to a narrative explaining why it ‘happened’? Does the event have one single perspective and meaning? Are (partial and perspectival) descriptions of punctual events … the goal or perhaps even the outcome of historiography? What are ‘normal historical procedures’ and ‘normal’ according to whom?30

It is obviously far beyond the scope of this introduction to attempt to articulate appealing answers to the above inquiries. Suffice it to recognize that the proper address of the above inquiries requires a certain worldview or frame of reference. As Ben Zvi correctly surmises,31 Lemche seems to try to convey that religious prejudice or ideological idiosyncrasy has impacted the methodology of maximalist scholars. However, is the methodology of minimalists exempt from ideology? Is there really no hidden preconception or assumption or even faith without evidence among minimalists? Minimalists consistently raise objections concerning the Hebrew Bible as a historical source unless extra-biblical sources confirm the biblical text. However, we could ask a question with Grabbe as follows: “[I]s consistency always a virtue?”32 Of course, consistency is not always a virtue; from the historical viewpoint, the Hebrew Bible is inconsistent regarding reliability and accuracy. If a methodology does not acknowledge and accordingly cannot adapt to this reality, then it is too rigid and stiff as a tool for penetrating historical reality. Therefore, one should pay heed to Grabbe’s warning: There is a danger in a particular methodology’s becoming a dogmatic ideology. As Hans Barstad (1998) pointed out two decades ago, the proper critical position and healthy skepticism exhibited by Minimalists is in danger of slipping over into little more than an exhibition of bibliophobia.33

It has long been recognized that the debates between minimalists and maximalists do not always concern only historical facts. Sometimes hidden worldviews and presuppositions underlying the historical facts impact them heavily. The overly aggressive and combatant tone of the debates can only be understood fully with the awareness that the debates result not only from a search for historical fact, but also from a more comprehensive foundation, namely the struggle for superiority regarding academically valid worldviews or epistemologies. At this point, it is worthwhile to realize that despite all the differences between the 30 Ben

Zvi 2017b, 8–9. Zvi 2017b, 9–10. 32 Grabbe 2017, 4. 33 Grabbe 2017, 8. 31 Ben

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minimalists and maximalists, they share a common and overarching belief that historical value can be measured, judged and proven.

4. Beyond the Debate between the Minimalists and the Maximalists In my view, Hebrew Bible scholarship should now move beyond the debate between minimalists and maximalists.34 In order to achieve this goal, awareness of one’s own hidden assumptions and presuppositions proves more important than a pretended absolutely neutral position. Only by doing so are we able to dare to bring our hidden assumptions and presuppositions into the light of examination. Perhaps we should humbly recognize that fully describing the “actual past” or “historical reality” represents an unobtainable goal.35 Although one of the aims of historical research in Hebrew Bible scholarship concerns the identification of how the biblical story connects to the actual past (or even whether it does so at all) and the portrayal of the historical reality of ancient Israel as accurately as possible, the selectivity of observation means that no modern historiography can capture all aspects of this reality.36 All research based on observation, including research on the historical reality of ancient Israel, needs a chosen object, an interest, a point of view and a problem.37 Accordingly, story as well as history as defined in this chapter are by no means identical with the actual past or historical reality. Thus, I would like to emphasize at this point that the terms “story” and “history” in this chapter do not intend to convey any value judgment. Their relationship should not be understood as “inferior story” versus “superior history” or vice versa. Instead, I regard them as different literary genres or, more accurately speaking, as divergent modes or heterogeneous approaches to capturing and describing the infinite historical reality in their own ways. 34 In this context, it is worth remarking that Pfoh criticizes the fact that the current historiography related to ancient Israel is primarily performed in theology departments and seminaries in Europe and North America (Pfoh 2017, 5–6). In his view, this portrays the research frameworks for such historiography as a historical investigation based on specific concerns and interests. He suggests instead that research on the historiography of ancient Israel should be conducted in departments of history, social anthropology, or historical geography. Pfoh concludes that the results would differ depending on the research framework. However, it is a difficult and complicated question whether departments of history, social anthropology and historical geography are interest-free or concern-free zones. In my view, this is an issue relating to awareness or consciousness rather than location. 35 On this issue, see also the section “5. Reflecting on the Task of Historical Reconstruction” in Han’s article as well as the section “1. Introduction: The Interplay between History and Interpretation” in Schmid’s article, below. 36 Popper 1965, 46. 37 Popper 1965, 46.

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Acknowledging this simple fact, we can perhaps move forward and even beyond the milieu of debate between minimalists and maximalists. This has to do with the inquiry about objectivity in historiography.38 Objectivity in historiography has been explained in diverse ways, and different researchers presuppose varying conceptions of historical objectivity.39 However, historiographic objectivity has been generally related to the issue of neutrality.40 Paul Newall articulates the view that the identification of historical objectivity with neutrality should be reconsidered since theory based on observation and interpretation is an unavoidable element of any historical inquiry.41 At the same time, this does not mean that all historiographies represent nothing more than competing partisan theories written to maintain or challenge a prevailing orthodoxy with no claim to veracity. Newall seems to claim that plural, inevitably subjective elements are sometimes essential to ascertaining objective truth in history.42 Even though historians cannot be neutral, since as human beings they cannot wholly remove their value judgments or particular points of view and are therefore unable to start without preconceptions, historians should and can seek to gain conceptual as well as methodological instruments that minimize distortion and get as close to historical reality as possible.43 Investigating along these lines, Richard J. Evans states: … it is important not to confuse objectivity with neutrality, indifference, or lack of passion, as Novick himself appears to do … All this needs “detachment,” the ability not to put oneself at the center of a view of the world, as the most narcissistic of the postmodernists do, but to develop what Haskell calls “a view of the world in which one’s own self … appears merely as one object among many.” Otherwise, for example, how would 38 For historiographic objectivity see Moore 2006, 137–82; Newall 2009, 172–80. Beginning in the 1960s, postmodernism rejected objectivity in historiography as an impossible mission. However, according to Stanford, “almost every social scientist today lives and works somewhere between the two poles of positivistic objectivity and insightful subjectivity” (Stanford 1998, 22). A certain amount of subjectivity is necessary for understanding the human element, for example emotions, which have a profound impact on the trajectory of history. The current majority of historiographers seem to have built a consensus that a historiography should be written “with an appreciation of the difficulties involved in doing history objectively as well as with self-awareness of the subjective factors they bring to their work” (Moore 2006, 11). This epistemological position can be confirmed by the contributors of this volume. For an overview of the postmodern position regarding historiography cf. Zammito 2009, 68–71; Southgate 2009, 540–49. The antirepresentationalist viewpoint, one of several related postmodern viewpoints, for example, expresses strong doubt about usual assumptions such as the existence of a correspondence between language and reality, and the ability to use language competently for literal expression of past reality (Moore 2006, 12). 39 Newall 2009, 173. 40 Newall 2009, 173. 41 Newall 2009, 175. 42 Newall 2009, 173. 43 Newall 2009, 175.

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we be able to understand phenomena like Nazism or individuals like Stalin and Pol Pot? None of this means that historical judgment has to be neutral. But it does mean that the historian has to develop a detached mode of cognition, a faculty of self-criticism, and an ability to understand another person’s point of view.44

Every historiography is influenced to some degree by the historian’s particular preconceptions, presuppositions and viewpoints, for we all have to supply some information from “now” in order to take information from “back then.”45 This human epistemological characteristic is sometimes abused to defend the legitimacy and validity of a historiography based on completely arbitrary subjectivity. But, of course, this is problematic epistemologically and scientifically. The discipline of history cannot and should not simply legitimate or validate the possibility of historiography deriving from uncontrolled arbitrariness and hidden bias, but historiography instead requires a scientific discourse to clearly display its presuppositions and assumptions as transparently and honestly as possible.46 By keeping historical objectivity in the form of the aforementioned “detachment,” historians obtain clearer criteria in order to judge and examine with self-scrutiny and humility how and in which way the gap and overlap between story and history could and should be interpreted and, accordingly, 44 Evans

2000, 218–19. 2009, 18. 46 Following Keith Oatley (1999, 101–17), Raymond F. Person discerns three kinds of truth: “truth as empirical correspondence,” “truth as coherence within complex structure” and “truth as personal relevance” (Person 2016, 78). In his view, biblical historiography is a form of traditional history containing “truth as coherence within complex structure” and “truth as personal relevance.” In traditional history, “historical events are arranged in ways that will bring honor to the historian when he performs his history orally in ways that moves his audience emotionally and strengthens their group identity” (Person 2016, 78). Therefore, the descriptions of biblical historiography have their own virtue and should not be judged naively or charged as inaccurate, incomplete or even distorted (Person 2016, 78). This understanding results from his recent hypothesis that the reciprocal relationship between written and oral tradition, along with scribes writing with a perspective based upon texts recited in public should be recognized in research on the relation between Samuel-Kings and Chronicles (Person 2010, 163–74). Person concludes that biblical historiography must be understood and accepted as traditional history, taking seriously its characteristics and features as such. Therefore, understanding biblical historiography on its own terms should be the starting point for putting it to other uses such as historical data for our own modern historiographies (Person 2016, 82). His arguments are helpful and enlightening in many aspects concerning the interpretation of the gap and overlap between story and history. They enable us to realize that “inaccuracy,” “incompleteness” and “distortion” in story on the one hand and in history on the other are qualitatively different categories. As a result, modern historiography based on uncontrolled arbitrariness and hidden bias should not be legitimated. On this and related issues, see also the section “11. Summary: Landmarks in the Development of Early Biblical History” in Finkelstein’s article as well as the section “1. Introduction: The Interplay between History and Interpretation” in Schmid’s article, below. Furthermore, the section “4. What Sort of New History of Israel Is Chronicles?” in Levin’s article below deals with the characteristics and features of Chronicles as an ancient historiography. 45 Kosso

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which interpretation comes closer to the actual past and historical reality. The brief sketch given so far demonstrates that the gap and overlap between story and history is one of the most sensitive and vital points of Hebrew Bible scholarship in the present and the future.

5. The Collected Articles in this Volume The articles in this volume can be regarded as valuable efforts to take the gap and overlap between story and history seriously and to understand this significant topic better, particularly in the context of the books of Kings as well as its proximate frame of reference. Thus, they form a kind of prolegomena for any historiography of ancient Israel that desires to move beyond the milieu of the debates between minimalists and maximalists. The articles collected in this book deal with some core topics related to the gap and overlap between story and history such as: What do recent archaeological finds suggest about the biblical records? Did any coherent theological or ideological intention lie behind mitigating descriptions in the books of Kings (2 Kgs 3:1–3; 14:1–3; 17:1–2)? Is the so-called Deuteronomistic History more theological or more historiographical? What really happened to Josiah in Megiddo? Did Jeremiah preach at the Temple of Jerusalem in the year 609 bce? How were the conquests of Jerusalem in 597 bce and 587 bce delineated and evaluated in 2 Kings 24–25? How were the kings of Judah in the Deuteronomistic History reinterpreted by the Chronicler? Did Croesus really meet with Solon? The authors of the contributions gathered in this volume are located in various regions and countries. Moreover, they have different intellectual, institutional, religious and ethnic backgrounds. However, they and their contributions share the following methodological and epistemological points: 1) The contributors are neither minimalists nor maximalists. They all strive to move beyond the debates between maximalists and minimalists. 2) They concur that the historical value of the biblical text should not be presupposed or denied from the outset. Furthermore, they assume that the historical reliability of the Hebrew Bible should not be evaluated generally or consistently, but viewed in a differentiated manner as heterogeneous on a case-by-case basis for every single book, passage or even verse. 3) They seek to develop a detached mode of cognition, a faculty for self-criticism and an ability to understand other points of view. 4) They endeavor to acquire cutting-edge information regarding the differences and convergences between biblical portrayals of the historical evolution of ancient Israel (story), on the one hand, and the historical-critical reconstructions of the historical reality (history), on the other.

Introduction: The Gap and Overlap between Story and History

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5) They believe that in order to determine more precisely the realities in which to locate relevant biblical texts, one must compare the biblical texts with archaeological evidence as well as with other extra-biblical sources. 6) They share the view that the archaeological evidence and the extra-biblical texts should be regarded not as a means of control or as authoritative criteria, but as separate sources which themselves are objects of critical evaluation and investigation. On the other hand, they maintain that the archaeological evidence and the extra-biblical texts are important as “real time” evidence to interpret the gap and overlap between story and history appropriately. In this way, all independent sources will be subject to reciprocal cross-checking through mutual communication. 7) They hold that the task of historiography is not only to determine what has happened in time and space through the critical evaluation of sources, but also to attempt to understand the meaning and significance of those historical events as well as to explain the world of the authors/editors and their theologies/ideologies. By sharing the aforementioned common points and methodological principles, this volume provides the reader with a converging, collaborative and hopefully enjoyable work that presents an opportunity to examine how the gaps and overlaps between story and history impact research on the Hebrew Bible. Furthermore, this volume is a testimony to the richness of collaboration between Asian (Hasegawa, Ro, Sano), European (Römer, Schmid), Israeli (Finkelstein, Levin) and American (Han) scholarly cultures. The arrangement of the articles in this volume is with some exceptions generally based on the chronological order of the narratives in the books of Kings. Israel Finkelstein’s article “History of Ancient Israel: Archaeology and the Biblical Record – An Update” reviews the history of research on the question of archaeology and the biblical record regarding the historical reality of Ancient Israel. He presents several “rules” for the “view from the center”, that is, between a literary reading and a minimalist interpretation of the text. The article then deals with the nature of the two disciplines of archaeology and textual exegesis as well as with issues such as dating finds and texts, evidence for scribal activity in Israel and Judah, old oral Northern traditions in the Hebrew Bible and how they were preserved and transferred to Judah, the impact of people from the North who migrated to Judah after 720 bce, the material and cognitive dichotomy between Israel and Judah and historical writing versus the advancement of theological concepts. Shuichi Hasegawa addresses the topic of “Mitigating Evaluations of Kings of Israel and Judah in the books of Kings.” It is widely accepted that the formulaic descriptions of the kings of Israel and Judah in the books of Kings are based on a historical source. In the formulaic descriptions, most of those kings are judged against theological criteria, namely their cultic activities. These judgments are

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regarded as based on a source available to the editor of the books of Kings, the contents of which are usually included in the description. Among these formulaic descriptions, in three cases the judgment is mitigated by the following text, two positively (Joram of Israel: 2 Kgs 3:1–3; Hoshea of Israel: 2 Kgs 17:1–2) and one negatively (Amaziah of Judah: 2 Kgs 14:1–3). Hasegawa’s contribution aims to examine the historical reliability of the information found in the texts explaining the mitigations and to uncover the author(s) of the mitigating descriptions and their explanations. He also investigates whether any coherent theological/ideological intention that forms part of the historiography of the two kingdoms lies behind such mitigations. Thomas Römer’s article, “Biblical Historiography and the Reconstruction of Israelite and Judahite History,” describes how the so-called Deuteronomistic History constructs a story from Mosaic times to the fall of Judah. Scholars have often observed that the aim of this story is much more theological than historiographical, since this work was edited in order to explain the fall of the Israelite and Judahite kingdoms as well as YHWH’s implication in this fall. However, Römer presents three cases that demonstrate the fact that in constructing the so-called Deuteronomistic History, the Deuteronomists integrated materials that modern historians interested in the reconstruction of the historical events should use. Jin H. Han contributes the article “Josiah’s Death in Megiddo: A Touchstone Case of Historiography.” The year 609 bce marks a watershed in Judean history. Both the Deuteronomistic Historian and the Chronicler depict the reign of Josiah (640–609) as a period of vitality the likes of which the nation had not seen since David and Solomon. By contrast, after Josiah was killed in Megiddo, Judah took a precipitous downturn that led to the fall of Jerusalem. The clarity of the impact of the king’s death, however, marks a stark contrast with the haze of history that enshrouds what transpired in the last days of his reign. The two major sources in the Hebrew Bible as well as Josephus offer conflicting reports concerning the events of Megiddo. Historians charged with the task of reconstructing a picture that has missing pieces must wrestle with a series of questions. Reconstruction of the historical reality surrounding Josiah’s death eludes historians, even after they have forgone the grand vision of Leopold von Ranke, who declared that a historian “will bloß sagen, wie es eigentlich gewesen.” Konrad Schmid deals with “The Conquests of Jerusalem 597 bce and 587 bce in History and in Biblical Interpretation (2 Kgs 24–25).” The fall of Jerusalem, the destruction of its temple and the end of the Davidic monarchy comprise the most pivotal events in the history of ancient Judah. This historical caesura spanned a time period of at least a decade, beginning in 597 bce when Nebuchadnezzar initially appeared in Jerusalem, deported king Jehoiachin and his entourage, installed a vassal king whom he named Zedekiah and carried away the temple vessels. It lasted until 587 bce, after Zedekiah ceased paying

Introduction: The Gap and Overlap between Story and History

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tribute to Babylon, and Nebuchadnezzar appeared in Jerusalem a second time to destroy the city and temple. 2 Kings 24–25 does indeed contain the literary presentation of these events. Yet on several important details, the descriptions of the events of 597 bce in 2 Kings 24 conflict with those of 587 bce in 2 Kings 25. Both accounts report the deportation of “all” Jerusalem (2 Kgs 24:14; 2 Kgs 25:11) and the carrying away of “all” temple treasuries (2 Kgs 24:13; 2 Kgs 25:13–17). But 2 Kings 24–25 has apparently been reworked through intrabiblical interpretation: Different biblical redactors introduced differing views of the fall of Jerusalem in these two chapters. Johannes Unsok Ro contributes the article “Did Jeremiah Preach at the Temple of Jerusalem in the Year 609 bce? – An Inquiry into the ‘Deuteronomistic Editorial Layer’ in the book of Jeremiah.” Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:7–13 show surprising similarity in the comparison of their theological structures. Neither text seems to originate from the prophet Jeremiah himself, but rather may be deemed to be written by postexilic editors. This indicates the existence of a theological continuity between some texts of “Jeremiah’s Confessions” (e. g., Jer 12:2, 20:7–13) and some portions of the prose sermons in the book of Jeremiah (Jer 7:1–12, 32:40–41). In his view, Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:7–13 were probably both formed by the same theological group in the Persian period to become part of the book of Jeremiah. Also, it is probable that the members of this theological group are close to the members of the “piety of the poor.” Jeremiah 7:1–12 was not mainly formed from the prophet Jeremiah’s words. It may also not have been composed by the Deuteronomistic editor. Yigal Levin’s contribution is “The Chronicler as an Historian: The Chronicler’s Reinterpretation of the Deuteronomistic History of the Kings of Judah.” The purpose of this article is to examine the way in which the Chronicler used the Deuteronomistic History as a basis for his unique rendition of the history of the kingdom of Judah from the division of the monarchy to the exile. The working assumption is that the Deuteronomistic History was composed, more or less as we know it today, during the exilic period, although, of course, it may well have been re-edited and added to in later periods. Levin places the composition of the book of Chronicles in the 4th century bce, either just before or just after the Macedonian conquest (which is not reflected in the book in any case). The Chronicler seems to have had a copy of the Deuteronomistic History in a form similar to what we have today, meaning that we can consider his book to be a reinterpretation, or perhaps even a midrash, of the Deuteronomistic History. Concluding that the Chronicler may indeed have used sources other than the Deuteronomistic History, the article asks what the origin of such sources might have been before commenting on their “historicity.” Yoshinori Sano’s article “The Meeting of Croesus and Solon in Herodotus’ Histories I” offers points of comparison and contrast to other articles in this volume that deal with story and history in the Hebrew Bible by examining an

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interesting case taken from ancient Greek historiography. The meeting between Croesus, the king of Lydia and Solon, the Athenian statesman, is depicted with memorable vividness close to the beginning of Herodotus’ Histories. The historicity of this meeting has been questioned since antiquity on chronological terms. However, some scholars (Chiasson, Harrison) point out numerous correspondences between Solon’s words in Histories Book I and Solon’s poetic fragments. Sano further investigates the correspondences between the Herodotean Solon and Solon’s poems. He also pays special attention to the fact that a negative evaluation of the desire for wealth forms an important bridge between Solon’s utterances in Histories Book I and the thoughts of the historical Solon expressed in his poems. Through the aforementioned investigations, this article offers students and scholars of the Hebrew Bible comparative perspectives on how the author’s historical and theological view may be reflected in the depiction of an event. It is our earnest wish that these nine chapters represent a series of studies that highlight the significance and potential of the relationship between story and history within the books of Kings, other parts of the Hebrew Bible and in their proximate contexts, providing fresh insights for further research.

History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel Israel Finkelstein 1. Introduction An update on my views regarding the relationship between archaeology and the biblical text when attempting to reconstruct the history of Ancient Israel is necessary for several reasons:1 First, the incredible pace of archaeology in Israel calls for a persistent reevaluation of things. New data have been assembled and new methods deployed. Especially important is the revolution in the concept of dating finds; radiocarbon dating of Iron Age strata now makes it possible to establish the chronology of Iron Age remains on solid, unbiased foundations and liberate the researcher from traditional, highly conjectural theories which were frequently based on one’s understanding of the biblical text. Second, my interest in critical biblical exegesis has grown and with it my association with continental scholars who have influenced my work. Third, in recent years I have dealt with questions regarding the proliferation of writing in ancient Israel as well as the possibility of preservation of old, pre-Deuteronomistic memories in the biblical text.

2. A Brief Research History In the reconstruction of Ancient Israel’s history, the pendulum has swung back and forth in the last two centuries between the two poles of traditional and critical interpretations. The tense dispute preceded archaeological research. It commenced with Spinoza’s critical exegesis over three and half centuries ago and peaked in the 19th century with Wellhausen and others. On the side of archaeology, much of the early work in Palestine, by Sellin and Petrie, for example, had been professional, that is, not subjected to an uncritical reading of the biblical text. This changed with the rise of the Albright-dominated traditional biblical archaeology in the early 1920s, which was aimed at fighting off critical theories and proving biblical history to be an accurate account of the past. Israeli archaeologists, first and foremost Yadin, joined this camp in the 1950s for cultural rather than theological reasons. Conservative biblical archaeology held the upper hand 1 This

is a revised and updated version of Finkelstein 2015a.

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for much of the 20th century. The reaction has been an ultra-critical (“minimalist”) approach that appeared in the 1990s, arguing against the traditional use of archaeology in reconstructing the history of Ancient Israel in the Iron Age and advocating the view that biblical texts which refer to the history of Ancient Israel were all compiled in the Persian and Hellenistic periods and thus have no real value for understanding earlier periods.2 And since minimalism is about one’s approach to the biblical text, “accusing” archaeologists of being minimalists3 demonstrates a misunderstanding of the entire discipline. Parallel to the work of the minimalists, a school which can be described as promoting a “view from the center” has developed. Members of this school, to which I belong, take a critical attitude toward both text and archaeology, but differ from the minimalists in arguing that a significant number of biblical records date to late monarchic times and that some accounts preserve memories of earlier days in the Iron Age.4 Needless to say, the “view from the center” group is far from being homogeneous.5 As could have been expected, the expansion of the critical approach, especially the one “from the center,” which has been conceived, in a way, as posing a greater threat, brought about a series of attempts to prove it wrong and to re-establish a conservative reconstruction of the history of Ancient Israel. Ironically, though the neo-traditionalists are all archaeologists, their interpretation is textbased; their advances can be seen as a revival of the Albright school’s assault on late 19th/early 20th century developments in critical biblical research in Europe and yet again, they come from different cultural milieus. The current conservative trend is best demonstrated by recent claims that: – The palace of King David has been found in the City of David in Jerusalem;6 – Finds at Khirbet Qeiyafa in the Shephelah provide evidence for a developed kingdom in Judah in the 10th century bce and can be read against the background of biblical texts ostensibly describing events which had taken place at that time;7 the ostracon retrieved there demonstrates the possibility of composition of biblical texts as early as the 10th century bce;8 – Copper production at Khirbet en-Nahas and Timna in the Arabah is connected to the economic endeavors of King Solomon.9 2 E. g.,

Davies 1992; Thompson 1999. 2011. 4 For this approach, which has recently been ingeniously described by Jean-Marie Durand as “deconstruction positive” [French], see, e. g., Liverani 2005; Miller and Hayes 2006; Na’aman 2006; Knauf 2013; Finkelstein and Silberman 2001. 5 See, e. g., Na’aman 2010a; Finkelstein 2011a. 6 Mazar 2007; 2009; but see rejoinder in Finkelstein et al. 2007. 7 E. g., Garfinkel et al. 2016; rejoinders in Na’aman 2012a; Finkelstein and Fantalkin 2012; Fantalkin and Finkelstein, 2017; Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2015. 8 Galil 2009; Puech 2010; rejoinders in Rollston 2011; Millard 2011. 9 E. g., Levy et al. 2008, returning to Glueck’s ideas about Solomon the copper king without evidence for the presence of Judah there; Ben Yosef 2016. 3 Garfinkel

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More subtle but no less misleading are interpretations of sets of data from past excavations, for instance regarding the “Israelite fortresses” in the Negev Highlands10 and concerning an ostensible change in the settlement patterns of the 10th century bce which was interpreted as indicating the organization of a developed kingdom in Ancient Israel.11 Both examples demonstrate incorrect methodology, because they select and set the data in a way that leads to the requested result.12

3. How to “View from the Center”? Traditional biblical archaeology and reconstruction of the history of Ancient Israel are based on accepting the most basic perception of the author of the text: that the history of Ancient Israel from the patriarchs in Genesis to the Return in Ezra and Nehemiah is a genuine description of a sequential history of the nation. This is not the case;13 I tend to look at biblical history from a point of view once described by the French annals scholar Marc Bloch as histoire regressive. The idea is that in a situation of uncertainty (and stories such as the patriarchs, Exodus and conquest clearly belong to this category) the researcher must base him/herself in a period for which the testimony – historical, economic, social and material culture – is well-defined and only then start reconstructing back, step by step. In the case of Ancient Israel, the safest period to serve as a point of departure is the time of the first authors in Jerusalem, that is, in late monarchic days (more below). Keeping to the “rules” I will describe below, this reconstruction must be done with as reliable a grip as possible over the question of the transmission of traditions, oral and/or written and the ideological/theological goals of the authors. In certain cases, intuitively traditional biblical archaeologists and historians inherited another concept from the authors: that episodes in the history of Ancient Israel were unique in the chronicles of the Levant. Yet the history of Canaan/Israel cannot be detached from events and processes in the surrounding lands in the ancient Near East and the eastern Mediterranean. The most obvious example is the necessity of dealing with the destructions at the end of the Late Bronze Age not as singular, local (“conquest”) occurrence, but rather as part of the broader phenomenon of the “Crisis Years” in the eastern Mediterranean.14 I believe that archaeology, especially what it tells us about settlement history, forces the researcher to view the history of Canaan/Israel along the lines of 10 Faust 2006; proven wrong by recent radiocarbon dates that put the sites in the 9th century bce – Boaretto, et al. 2010. 11 Faust 2006. 12 Finkelstein 2005. 13 Römer 2014. 14 Ward and Joukowsky 1992; Cline 2015.

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another French annals concept, that of the longue durée. According to this notion, many of the processes that characterize the region in the Bronze and Iron Ages, at least until the Assyrian takeover, were of a cyclical nature, influenced by geographical conditions. This is true for waves of settlement and periods of decline in the highlands and the arid zones, as well as cycles of urban growth and collapse in the lowlands. The crucial question, of course, is what to do when archaeology and the biblical text provide conflicting stories. In such a case, which of the two has the upper hand and do we need to seek a “winner”?15 For archaeology, two factors are dominant: 1) intensity of the evidence, including the size of the area exposed and, in the case of a large site, good representation of the different parts of the settlement;16 2) good control over the data; only in the case of secure stratigraphy, clear ceramic assemblage and good radiocarbon dates does archaeology provide reliable, unbiased, real-time evidence. Yet, it goes without saying that even in near perfect conditions the archaeological evidence may be open to different cultural and historical interpretations. Regarding the text, the most important question is the time span between the ostensible events described and the period of composition. In the case of chronological proximity and texts of a chronistic nature (that is, free of theological stances expressed in, e. g., speeches and prophecies), the text may be regarded as providing dependable evidence. When the ostensible events are centuries earlier than the time of authorship and the account is not chronistic in nature, the text is less likely to provide reliable testimony of the past. All this means that in the case of Ancient Israel we are not dealing with a black-and-white situation and there is no single, checklist attitude to the question of historicity; each case must be dealt-with according to its specific circumstances (examples below). Having set the stage, I now wish to turn to what I see as the basic rules of thumb that must be taken into consideration when dealing with biblical history.

4. It’s All About Dating In order to properly use archaeology in historical reconstruction one needs to be in full control of absolute chronology. By “full control” I mean the following inseparable trio: data must come from secure stratigraphic context, with good command of relative chronology, that is, of the ceramic assemblage that originates from this context, which must be radiocarbon dated. In other words, since the association of a historical event with archaeological finds such as destruction layers is a tricky endeavor and because some of the biblical texts on which 15 See

16 For

discussion in Na’aman 2010a; Finkelstein 2011a. the case of Bethel see in the references above.

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scholars build their theories cannot be dealt with as straightforward historical accounts, reliable and independent absolute chronology is mandatory. It can be achieved mainly by deploying a rigorous program of radiocarbon dating. The problem is that radiocarbon dating typically results in an uncertainty of several decades, which in the case of biblical history may lead to utterly different historical reconstructions. One obvious example is the dating of the late Iron IIA palaces at Megiddo: a difference of 70–80 years (say, between ca. 940 and 860 bce) puts them in utterly different settings: either at the time of the supposed United Monarchy or in the days of the Omride Dynasty of the Northern Kingdom. An even tighter situation is the dating of finds in the north to the first or second half of the 9th century (e. g., between ca. 850 and 830 bce!), the former in the days of the Omrides and the latter in the period of Damascene hegemony in the region. A third example is the dating of activity in the Negev Highlands sites; putting their main period of occupation in the mid-10th century or in the first half to the middle of the 9th century results in a different geo-political situation vis-á-vis the Sheshonq I campaign, copper production in the Arabah and the period of Damascene hegemony in the southern Levant.17 Here, then, is what needs to be done in order to deploy radiocarbon dating successfully: – Only short-lived samples (grain seeds, olive pits, etc.) should be dated. Charcoal is risky because it may lead to “old wood effect,” that is, the sample may come from a piece of old timber, reused many decades if not centuries after the tree was felled. – Dating according to a single radiocarbon determination is not reliable because a sole result can always be an outlier. – Dating of a site should preferably be done in a sequence of ceramic phases or strata, because setting the results in a Bayesian model and imposing the stratigraphy on the data can significantly diminish uncertainties. This can be achieved by arranging dates from different (preferably neighboring) sites whose relative sequence can be correlated according to their pottery assemblages,18 or by deploying data for a dense sequence of well-separated strata at a single site.19 – In the case of a single-layer site, the results should best be set into a regional context, with layers representing a sequence of ceramic phases. Note, for example, Khirbet Qeiyafa in the Shephelah: when dated alone, the results fall in the second half of the 11th century;20 when put in context (especially versus Iron I sites in its vicinity) the site is dated in the first half of the 10th century bce.21 17 Boaretto

et al. 2010; Shahack Gross et al. 2014. Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2010. 19 For Megiddo see Toffolo et al. 2014. 20 Garfinkel et al. 2012. 21 Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2015. 18 E. g.,

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– Averaging of results can be done only when there is reason to believe that the samples represent a short period of no more than a few years in the history of a given settlement. If this is not the case, the results must be plotted rather than averaged.22 Diverting from these rules may lead to mistaken dates, that is, erroneous historical settings.

5. The Israel-Judah Dichotomy When reconstructing the history of Ancient Israel, differences between southern and northern traditions embedded in the Bible must be taken into consideration.23 Of course, the biblical text reflects a southern perspective; this is discernible, for example, in the arrangement of the book of Genesis: the patriarchal narrative opens with the southern Abraham who is made the grandfather of the northern Jacob. In the so-called Deuteronomistic History all northern kings are evaluated negatively and in the books of Chronicles the Northern Kingdom is almost totally ignored. This southern reworking of Israelite traditions has influenced scholars, who in many cases “inherited” the southern perspective. Yet, extra-biblical texts and archaeology both demonstrate that historically, Israel had been the leading force among the Hebrew kingdoms. Israel was demographically and economically developed long before Judah. The northern territories on both sides of the Jordan River had already been densely settled in the Iron I, when the marginal Judean highlands were still depleted demographically. At that time the population ratio between the highlands parts of Israel (including the Gilead) and Judah can be estimated at 25:1! Even in the mid-8th century (that is, before the takeover of the Gilead by Damascus), the demographic ratio between Israel and Judah can be estimated at ca. 4:1.24 Judah started developing in a significant way in the end-phase of the late Iron IIA (late 9th century)25 and reached a real peak of prosperity only in the Iron IIB-C, that is, starting in the late 8th century bce.26 Population can, of course, be translated to military and economic strength; indeed, the power of Israel in the days of the Omrides is clearly depicted in Shalmaneser III’s list of participants in the Battle of Qarqar in 853 bce and hinted at in the Tel Dan and Mesha inscriptions; it is also portrayed in sparse biblical references to both the reign of the Omrides and the somewhat later days of Joash and Jeroboam II. In addition, Israel controlled more fertile regions, such as the Jezreel Valley and trade routes, such as the international 22 Opposing

views in Garfinkel et al. 2012; Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2015. Fleming 2012. 24 Broshi and Finkelstein 1992. 25 Fantalkin and Finkelstein 2006; Fantalkin 2008; Sergi 2013. 26 Jamieson-Drake 1991; Finkelstein and Silberman 2006a. 23 E. g.,

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highway along the coast and northern valleys and the King’s Highway in Transjordan. It was also better connected to the coast and other neighboring regions. All this promoted the North’s agricultural output and revenues from trade. In short, demographically, economically, militarily and geo-politically Israel was the dominant power during most of the time when the two Hebrew kingdoms existed side by side. These factors must be taken into consideration when analyzing biblical narratives.

6. No Evidence for Compilation of Complex Texts before the Early 8th Century In a recent article Benjamin Sass and I studied afresh the West Semitic alphabetic inscriptions from the Levant that date from the Late Bronze to the early phase of the Iron IIB, that is, until the early 8th century bce.27 We concluded that Hebrew inscriptions appear for the first time in the late Iron IIA/1 at Gath in the south and Rehob in the north. But at that time (first half of the 9th century bce) they are not found in the heartland of Israel and Judah. It is especially significant that not a single Hebrew inscription comes from the major cities of the Omride period, Megiddo, Samaria, Jezreel, Yokneam and Hazor and the inscriptions that do appear in the 9th century do not testify to the ability to compose elaborate texts. Monumental stone inscriptions appear in the late 9th century bce. But here again, the ability of dynastic scribes to compose royal inscriptions (or, theoretically speaking, of administrators to put together lists of commodities) cannot be compared to authoring complex literary biblical texts. The first significantly long and elaborate inscriptions in a genre which recalls biblical compositions appear in the first half of the 8th century on plaster in the Northern Kingdom: the Tell Deir Alla Balaam text28 and a Kuntillet Ajrud text recently interpreted by Na’aman as possibly connected to the Exodus tradition.29 The observations above seem to exclude the possibility of the composition of biblical texts before the first half of the 8th century bce. This statement includes theories regarding early Pentateuchal materials and pre-Deuteronomistic materials in the books of Samuel such as the Rise of David to Power and the Succession History.30 And this makes perfect sense historically: the sudden appearance of developed texts in the first half of the 8th century, probably in the days of Jeroboam II, is connected to the general prosperity in this period and probably related to a re-organization of the kingdom at that time. 27 Finkelstein

and Sass 2013; somewhat updated in Sass and Finkelstein 2016. in Ahituv 2008, 433–465 and bibliography on 465. 29 Na’aman 2011a. 30 E. g., Halpern 2001; Dietrich 2007. 28 Summary

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7. Early Traditions in the Bible: How Far Back Can They Go? What has just been said about the spread of writing may lead to the conclusion that materials which describe events that ostensibly took place in the early phases of the history of Ancient Israel, centuries before the compilation of biblical texts or even the ability to put texts in writing, should be considered fictitious, an invention of later authors, aimed to advance their goals. Another way to formulate this would be to argue that the early “history” of Ancient Israel is a-historical. Such a statement would be inaccurate. Archaeology, extra biblical texts and advanced biblical exegesis show that the Hebrew Bible contains what I would describe as early historical or, preferably, quasi-historical “memories” that originated centuries before the earliest possible date for the composition of biblical texts. They would have had to be transmitted orally until they were put in writing, and can be taken as preserving references to early historical situations, though certainly not as accurate descriptions of the past. As read today, they are sometimes concealed in later textual layers and wrapped in the ideology of the period/s of the author/s. Let me give a few examples. The first comes from my excavations at Shiloh over three decades ago. Archaeology has shown that Shiloh prospered in the early to middle Iron I and was utterly destroyed before the end of the period. Radiocarbon results put this destruction in the second half of the 11th century bce.31 There was no significant settlement at Shiloh in the Iron II and Persian periods. The Iron II remains are apparently restricted to one sector of the site and revealed no sign of a cult place and the Persian period yielded only scanty remains. It is difficult, therefore, to read the Shiloh sanctuary tradition against an Iron II or later background and for this reason it is unfeasible to associate the tradition regarding the devastation of this cult place, as related in the book of Jeremiah, with the conquest of the Northern Kingdom by the Assyrians in the late 8th century.32 This seems to mean that there was a strong memory in late-monarchic Judah of an early cult place at Shiloh. It could have originated from an orally-transmitted North Israelite tradition that reached Judah after 720 bce. Judahite recognition of the importance of this cult place could have catered to the ex-Israelites, who seem to have comprised a major element in the population of Judah in late monarchic times (below). At the same time, the biblical tradition in Jeremiah takes a strictly Judahite point of view in subordinating Shiloh to Jerusalem. The stories regarding the sinful behavior of the priests at Shiloh, the defeat of Israel and the eventual transfer of the Ark from Shiloh to Jerusalem could have served the Deuteronomistic ideology as a cultic parallel to the rejection of Saul (and 31 Finkelstein 32 Contra,

and Piasetzky 2009. e. g., Pearce 1973.

History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel

23

the North) and the election of David.33 In the case of Shiloh we probably have evidence, then, for the preservation in the Bible of memories, vague as they may be, of events that probably took place in the second half of the 11th century bce. Another example can be found in the heroic tales in Judges 3–12.34 The early layers in these chapters present Northern tales of a local nature that disclose a pre-Omride ambiance, for instance the description of Apiru groups in the Jephthah and Abimelech accounts.35 The entire corpus relates to the core territory of Israel (the northern part of the central highlands, the Gilead, the Jezreel Valley and the hills to its north) and probably contains memories of events that took place on the eve or in the early days of the Northern Kingdom, in the 10th century bce.36 The stories were probably assembled and committed to writing in Israel in the first half of the 8th century. Deuteronomistic and post-Deuteronomistic layers were added later; they sometime blur or conceal the original tales. Other, no less known early Northern traditions are embedded in the Pentateuch. The first is an early layer in the Jacob Cycle, which seems to have originated from the area of the Jabbok River in the Gilead. It deals with the border between Israelites and Arameans in this region and possibly also with the foundation of the temple at Penuel. Based on both exegetical and archaeological evidence (for the latter mainly settlement patterns) Thomas Römer and I proposed to date the (oral) origin of these stories before the middle of the 9th century bce.37 The Exodus narrative may have originated from an even older tradition, which some scholars propose to associate with the geo-political situation in the Levant at the end of the Middle Bronze Age38 or in the Late Bronze Age.39 Evidently, both traditions have later layers, which include their incorporation into late monarchic Judah and then a post-exilic tier. Good examples of early memories that found their way into relatively late compilations are the Moab narratives in Numbers 21–22. These chapters preserve traditions related to the Israelite conquest of the mishor of Moab in the days of the Omride Dynasty, traditions which are supported by both archaeological finds40 and the Mesha Inscription.41 The books of Samuel include pre-Deuteronomistic traditions42 that come from both the North and the South. Regarding the former I refer to what I  See also Psalms 78:60–71, Miller and Hayes 2006, 133. savior stories of Richter 1966. 35 For the latter see Na’aman 2011b. 36 See, e. g., Finkelstein 2016. 37 Finkelstein and Römer 2014. 38 Redford 1987. 39 Bietak 1987; Hendel 2001; Na’aman 2011c. 40 Finkelstein and Lipschits 2011. 41 E. g., Lemaire 2007. 42 E. g., Halpern 2001; Dietrich 2007. 33

34 The

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Israel Finkelstein

would call the “positive” Saul narrative. The stories are focused on the high­ lands of Benjamin and the area of the Jabbok, demonstrating close similarity to places listed by Sheshonq I following his campaign in Canaan in the second half of the 10th century. The highlands of Benjamin feature a system of fortified sites dated to that century, possibly testifying to its being the hub of an early territorial polity. The early Southern tradition in Samuel deals with the Shephelah and the southern (fringe) sector of the Judean highlands. The Rise of David to Power narrative puts Gath as the most important of the Philistine cities. Gath is described as ruling over the entire southern part of the Shephelah, from Ziklag in the southwest and the Beer-sheba Valley in the south to the Soreq Valley in the north. Excavations at Tell es-Safi, the location of biblical Gath, show that in the first half of the 9th century bce it was the largest and probably most prosperous city in the southern lowlands. It was violently destroyed in the late 9th century, probably by Hazael king of Damascus and never fully recovered from this event.43 According to the Great Summary Inscription of Sargon II, in the late 8th century Gath was a subordinate of Ashdod and it does not appear among the Philistine cities in early 7th century Assyrian sources and in late-monarchic prophetic works.44 The dominant role of Gath in the early David material must therefore represent a pre-840/830 bce reality.45 Preservation of what can be described as “Apiru ambiance” in the Rise of David to Power narrative46 must also predate the late 9th century, when the Judahite settlement system expanded to the Shephelah and the area south of Hebron. In other words, it is reasonable to assume that by the middle of the 9th century, there was no longer room for the activity of Apiru bands in this region. Not all narratives that describe the early days of Ancient Israel have a historical germ in them. Not a single tradition in the conquest stories in the book of Joshua can safely be associated with events that took place at the end of the Late Bronze Age, not to mention that many of the sites referred to had not been inhabited at all at that time. Most if not all of the Joshua conquest traditions seem to have originated from local etiological stories (Ai, Hazor, Makedah) and the overall scheme may portray territorial ideologies in Israel and Judah in late monarchic times.47 Let me summarize this brief discussion of materials in the Bible representing early phases in the history of Ancient Israel with two comments. First, most of these old materials came from the North, which had a more significant 43 Maeir

2004; 2012. 1998. 45 Maeir 2004. 46 Na’aman 2010b. 47 Finkelstein, in press. 44 Schniedewind

History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel

25

population, emerged to dominance earlier than Judah and was probably capable of composing complex texts before the Southern Kingdom. Second, it is archaeology that plays an important, not to say crucial, role in identifying such early traditions.

8. Accumulated Memories Needless to say, having been transmitted over centuries, first orally and then in writing, old memories or traditions must have absorbed later layers, which came from additions, elaborations and redactions and which may depict the realities of passing time. The results are texts, some extensive and others just short references, that can be described as representing accumulated, or to use a term from archaeology, stratified traditions. One of the best examples of stratified traditions is the David narrative in 1 Samuel. It presents realities that come from several different historical settings. The three that look to me most obvious are mentioned here. The core story describes David and his band as mercenaries active on the arid fringe of Judah south of Hebron and on the border of Philistine Gath. This material represents a phase in the history of the region before the demographic (and hence, also administrative) expansion of Judah into these areas, that is, before the late Iron IIA (in this case probably the later phase of the period in the second half of the 9th century bce). Descriptions of wars conducted by King David seem to portray realities of later times when the territorial kingdoms of the Levant, including their armies, had already been consolidated.48 A still later layer is embedded with references to the Philistines as Greek mercenaries and is characterized by Deuteronomistic language; therefore, it fits a situation no earlier than the late 7th century bce.49 I regard the Solomon chapters in the same way. The early section (1 Kgs 1–2) belongs to the Succession History which may depict late 8th century needs, a “reaction” to Israelite traditions that arrived in Judah after 720 bce.50 The traditions that portray Solomon as a great monarch, builder and merchant reflect realities of both the 8th century before the fall of the North and the following “Assyrian century” in the history of Judah. The reference to Hazor, Megiddo and Gezer as important centers of Solomon’s kingdom (1 Kgs 9:15), the descriptions of his horses and stables, as well as the reality behind the story of cities given to Hiram king of Tyre must come from the Northern Kingdom. But stories such as the visit of the queen of Sheba and trade expeditions sailing off 48 Na’aman

2002. all this Finkelstein and Silberman 2006b. 50 Finkelstein and Silberman 2006a. 49 On

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Israel Finkelstein

from Ezion-geber reflect the participation of Judah in the Assyrian-led Arabian trade, probably in the days of Manasseh, a period of great prosperity in the South. Finally, the condemnation of Solomon in 1 Kings 11 portrays an unmistakable Deuteronomistic tone from the late 7th century, that is, after the Assyrian withdrawal. These layers represent not only different historical settings but also different ideologies. A good example of a short, accumulated tradition is the reference to Aram Beth-rehob and [Aram] Zobah in 2 Sam 10:6–8 and 2 Sam 8:3, 5, 12. The author created a story here from separate memories that come from different centuries. Hadadezer probably refers to Hadadidri king of Damascus, the ally of Ahab in the battle of Qarqar. The idea of a strong Aramean king hostile to Israel seemingly refers to the figure of Hazael.51 Rehob in the Beth-shean Valley, probably a late-Canaanite city-state (Aramean-influenced from the point of view of material culture), is confused with Beth-rehob in the Beqa of Lebanon, which could not have survived as an independent principality after the Damascene expansion to the west in the second half of the 9th century bce. This confusion probably stems from the importance of Zobah=Subat as an Assyrian administration center in the days of Tiglath-pileser III and Sargon II. And all this is “telescoped” back to the 10th century by a late 7th century bce author.

9. How Were Old Traditions Preserved and Transferred to Judah? A major riddle is how old stories were preserved, especially during the time before having been put in writing. One possibility is that they were kept (first orally and then in a written form) in regional shrines, which preserved and promoted local traditions. For instance, the Jacob Gilead cycle may have been preserved at the Temple of Penuel, the Exodus narrative could have been venerated at Samaria and early traditions regarding the presence of Israel in the mishor of Moab could have been memorized at Nebo, referred to as a location of an Israelite shrine in the Mesha Inscription. Viewing this from the perspective of what I noted above regarding the history of scribal activity, this seems to indicate that the transition from oral to written tradition should be placed sometime around 800 bce or slightly later in Israel and perhaps the late 8th century and more so the 7th century bce in Judah. In the North, historical considerations seem to point to the days of Jeroboam II, when Israel reached the peak of its prosperity and when the kingdom was apparently re-organized, including assembling its most important foundation myths, royal traditions and heroic tales.52 In the 51 Na’aman

2002. 2017.

52 Finkelstein,

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27

South transition to written traditions may have taken place under Assyrian domination or slightly later. The second question, when and how Israelite traditions “migrated” to Judah, is essential for reconstructing the history of Ancient Israel and, in fact, for establishing a foundation for understanding the composition of the Hebrew Bible. This is so because of the large number of such traditions and their relatively early date (above). This is connected to another issue: why these traditions, some of them hostile to Judah, were incorporated into the Southern canon; after all, Judahite authors could have simply ignored the North, as did the author/s of Chronicles centuries later. Several scholars pointed to the possibility that Northern traditions came to the South with Israelites who settled there in the decades after 720 bce.53 Archaeology seems to provide support for this theory, mainly in the realm of settlement patterns. I refer to the massive demographic growth in Jerusalem in particular and Judah in general in the late 8th/early 7th centuries bce. As far as I can judge, the demographic transformation of Judah cannot be explained otherwise.54 And this population upheaval could have been the trigger for the rise of the pan-Israelite ideology in Judah. In its early days, under the domination of Assyria, it was pan-Israelite within, directed at the new mix of Judahite and Israelites in the Southern Kingdom, in an attempt to create a shared identity. Only later, after the Assyrian withdrawal from the region, was the pan-Israelite ideology “exported” to address Israelites who lived in the territories of the ex-Northern Kingdom. This was the moment of the rise of the Davidic territorial ideology that finds expression in the description of the Golden Age of David and Solomon: the great United Monarchy to be.

10. Theology versus History Evidently, the biblical description of the history of Ancient Israel is immersed in the political ideology and theology of late-monarchic and post-exilic authors. The question, then, is how to read this history without succumbing to the ideological program of these authors. Of course, the first distinction that must be made is between chronistic reports and theology-laden statements, speeches and prophecies. If one takes the story of Jeroboam I in 1 Kings 12:25–29 as an example, the report about Shechem and Penuel in v. 25 is of a chronistic nature, and hence may portray an old memory, while vv. 26–29 are of a cult-evaluation character. Indeed archaeology indicates that Dan was probably not inhabited in the days of Jeroboam I.55 53 Broshi

1974; Van der Toorn 1996, 339–72; Schniedewind 2004. the debate over this matter see recently Na’aman 2014; Finkelstein 2015a. 55 Arie 2008; for the biblical text see Berlejung 2009. 54 For

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In this connection, I wish to come back to the question of whether biblical accounts are more historical when they describe times close to the days of the authors. Here the answer is both positive and negative. Let me cite as an example the “Assyrian century” in the history of Judah, between ca. 730 and ca. 630 bce. Three kings ruled in Jerusalem at that time: Ahaz, Hezekiah and Manasseh. The framework of their reigns, their dates, years on the throne and connection to Assyrian monarchs, is fully historical, but theology is obviously at work in the manner in which their stories are told.56 Ahaz is evaluated negatively, while archaeology demonstrates that he reigned when Judah made enormous progress as a densely populated, economically prospering kingdom. Hezekiah is judged favorably, while archaeology shows that in his time and as a result of his catastrophic decision to participate in an uprising against Assyria, the Shephelah and Beer-sheba Valley were devastated by Sennacherib; every Judahite center excavated in these areas reveals signs of severe destruction. Manasseh is evaluated as the most wicked and worst sinner among all Judahite kings, whose cult behavior eventually brought about the fall of Judah, but archaeology indicates that in his time Judah was revitalized, participated as a compliant vassal in the Assyrian global economy and as a result prospered as never before. At that time scribal activity spread and this contributed to the possibility, a few decades later, of composing the first “edition” of the Deuteronomistic History. A major obstacle is the lack of consensus in exegetical research regarding the date of compilation of texts that deal with the later history of Ancient Israel; I refer especially, but not only, to Ezra, Nehemiah and Chronicles. This makes it difficult to evaluate the reality behind these works, especially when it comes to geographical materials. Good examples are the parts of Chronicles (mainly in 2 Chr) not mentioned in Kings which describe ostensible historical events, such as the war between Abijah and Jeroboam I or the invasion of Judah by Zerah the Cushite. The date of Chronicles has long been debated, between the 6th and 2nd centuries bce, a span of four centuries. Evidently, the author could have had access to genuine Iron Age materials had he been active in the 6th century; less so in the 2nd century, under utterly different historical circumstances. Indeed, I would suggest seeing these passages not as relying on unknown Iron Age sources, but rather as providing legitimacy for the territorial expansion of the Hasmoneans.57

56 See

in detail, Na’aman 1994. 2015b.

57 Finkelstein

History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel

29

11. Summary: Landmarks in the Development of Early Biblical History Writing this article has been challenging enough; summarizing it is even more so. I do so, however, in order to emphasize what I see as the most important factors in the process of compilation of the history of Ancient Israel in the Bible. Though the paragraphs below may sound devoid of archaeological perspectives, the reader should acknowledge that modern archaeological research stands behind almost every sentence. So here is my ani maamin (Hebr. I believe), or better, in fact, my “I suppose”: The biblical description of the history of Ancient Israel includes old “memories” which go back to as early as the formative days of the Northern Kingdom, the terminal phase of the second millennium (in the case of Shiloh, for instance) and perhaps even earlier, if Exodus preserves a reference to the expulsion of Asiatics from the Nile Delta in the 16th century bce.58 Most of these early memories come from the North. This should come as no surprise as Israel was more densely inhabited than Judah, more developed economically, better connected to trade routes and events in the lowlands and better incorporated in the geo-political and cultural scene of the Levant. As a result the North developed advanced writing abilities earlier than the South. But Judah, too, preserved early traditions, for instance in the story of David as a leader of an Apiru band which acted on the southern fringe of the kingdom. The grand leap forward came in the 8th century. I suspect that the writing abilities demonstrated in Tell Deir Alla and Kuntillet Ajrud of the early 8th century are connected to the reorganization of Israel in the days of Jeroboam II, probably the greatest of the Israelite kings. It is logical to assume, although impossible to prove, that early Israelite traditions were put in writing for the first time during his reign. In Judah, composition of text may have started half a century later, with the incorporation of the kingdom into the Assyrian empire as a vassal state and the beginning of Assyrian economic and cultural influence; by the latter I refer to both the advanced bureaucracy and the impact of Assyrian literary genres. Apart from the possible existence of north Israelite texts, from ideological and theological perspectives, biblical history begins in 720 bce, with the fall of Israel. Judah and Israel, kingdoms very different from each other in terms of the environmental conditions and nature of population, had some common cultural characteristics, such as language, features of material culture and cult. With the fall of Israel and the migration of many Israelites to Jerusalem and Judah, the demographic make-up of the Southern Kingdom altered dramatically, in the sense that Israelites became a large portion of its population. Judah now conceived of 58 Redford

1987.

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Israel Finkelstein

itself as the inheritor and preserver of the shared tradition of the two Hebrew kingdoms and took the vacant name of the North, Israel, to describe the united nation (to be) under its rule. This is the time when pan-Israelite ideology developed for the first time; it promoted two messages, the acceptance by all Israelites of the rule of the Davidic dynasty and the dominance of Jerusalem with its Temple. For a century, these ideas were advanced within Judah, among the mixed Israelite-Judahite population: a sort of United Monarchy within. And as part of efforts to “make” a new Israel in Judah, Israelite traditions were incorporated into the Judahite texts, but were subjected to Judahite ideological goals. Only with the withdrawal of Assyria in the late 7th century during the rule of Josiah were these ideas “exported” to the ex-Israelite territories as an updated ideology, according to which all Hebrews who lived both in Judah and in the territory of the fallen Israel, “from Dan to Beer-sheba,” were required to accept the Davidides and the Jerusalem Temple in order to be part of Benei Israel. This ideology needed a facelift in Exilic times, after the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the Davidic dynasty and this involved redactions and revisions of old texts and the production of new ones. What followed next is a riddle. The Persian period has become a fad in biblical scholarship, with almost every biblical book supposedly having been compiled or redacted at that time. Yet, we know almost nothing of this period from extra-biblical sources and the archaeological evidence is meager. The risk of reconstructing biblical history solely from the biblical text, evidently an endeavor that entails circular-reasoning, has been demonstrated time and again with regard to earlier phases in Israelite history. And yet scholars repeatedly fall into this trap. Can the ruins of Jerusalem, with perhaps 500 inhabitants, not even a trace of a single house and almost no evidence for writing in Hebrew, be credited with the production of a large portion of biblical literature? Can this colossal achievement be attributed to poor Yehud with a destitute rural population of a few thousand? Or, should we seek other venues for the compilation of many of these texts, Babylonia for example,59 or Egypt? Archaeology and extra-biblical sources, this time the rich Jewish literature of the late Hellenistic period in the 2nd century bce, seem to indicate that much of the more specific materials for reconstructing history in Nehemiah and Chronicles, especially geography-related lists in Nehemiah and descriptions in Chronicles which do not appear in Kings, depict realities in Hasmonean times.60 If and how much a Hasmonean “touch” can be identified in other books that describe the history of Ancient Israel need to be investigated in the future with the following question in mind: Was there an attempt to rewrite the biblical history in the days of the Hasmoneans? 59 Albertz

2003. 2008a; 2008b; 2015c.

60 Finkelstein

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings1 Shuichi Hasegawa 1. Introduction Most of the kings of Israel and Judah in the books of Kings are evaluated with formulaic descriptions comparing their cultic activities to theological criteria. For the Israelite kings, the principal criterion is whether they followed “the sin of Jeroboam son of Nebat,” namely, the worship of the calves at Bethel and Dan established by the founder of the Northern Kingdom; meanwhile, most of the Judahite kings undergo comparisons with either David or their fathers. Scholars generally regard these judgments as based on sources available to the editor of the books of Kings, whose text frequently references the contents of these sources. Among these formulaic evaluations, there are cases in which the judgment is then qualified by a statement that follows immediately afterwards. Many studies have investigated possible sources for the books of Kings, but the historical authenticity of the qualifying statements contained in the evaluations of some kings has never been systematically explored. This article, through a close literary analysis and comparison of the qualifying descriptions in the books of Kings, aims to examine the historical reliability of this information and to identify its possible author(s). It also seeks to determine whether any coherent theological or ideological intention undergirds these qualifying statements that form part of the historiography describing the two kingdoms.

2. Previous Studies In the quest for the editorial history of the books of Kings, which constitutes one of the crucial pillars of the Deuteronomistic History theory, the regnal formulae of kings have drawn much scholarly attention. In such studies, discussion of the authorship of the formulae extensively examines the stylistic features found in them. It is widely agreed that the Deuteronomistic author(s) or editor(s) 1 This study was supported by JSPS KAKENHI Grant Numbers 26370827/15KK0061/ 15H05165-1/24101009-1/17H04527/17K18492/17H01640.

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Shuichi Hasegawa

generally composed the regnal formulae, but not all at the same time. The time of either Hezekiah or Josiah and the postexilic period have all been proposed as possible dates of composition for each formula.2 Yet even these systematic studies of the regnal formulae in the books of Kings do not treat the qualifications of evaluations as an independent topic. Scholarship widely assumes that such qualifications were drafted as part of evaluations either by the Deuteronomist(s) responsible for composing essential parts of the books of Kings, by its earlier editor, by one of the late Deuteronomistic editors, or alternatively that they were glosses interpolated by late editors.3 To the best of my knowledge, although commentaries and other scholarly works discuss each of the qualifications individually, no one has ever undertaken a systematic investigation of the qualification of evaluations in the books of Kings. To reconstruct the history of the monarchic period of Israel, one needs to scrutinise every single available source, biblical and extra-biblical and assess the historicity of the information it provides. Therefore, the examination of probable sources of such qualifications in the regnal formulae of kings requires a systematic study. Only such a systematic approach can contribute towards uncovering the unknown intentions, if any existed, behind the use of qualifications in the regnal formulae. In what follows, I will take up each of the qualifications, analysing them first separately and then attempting to synthesise the results.

3. A Definition of “Qualification” Before discussing the historicity of these qualifications, I should briefly define my key term. A qualification of an evaluation in the regnal formulae is a clause or sentence beginning with the word ‫אך‬/‫רק‬, located immediately after the evaluation.4 The particle ‫ רק‬appears twenty-three times in the books of Kings and fourteen times in the evaluations of kings, functioning as qualifying the preceding evaluation.5 They can be divided into two categories in terms of the 2 Weippert 1972, 301–39; Lemaire 1986, 221–36; Campbell 1986, passim; Provan 1988, passim; Halpern and Vanderhooft 1991, 179–244; Eynikel 1996, 33–135; Thomas 2014, passim. 3 Rofé 1988, 97–98 ascribes the judgments of the Israelite kings to a prophetic historiographer who wrote earlier than the Deuteronomist, after Josiah’s cult reform, and followed Hosea’s doctrine concerning the accusation of calves at Bethel and Dan. 4 For the meaning of ‫רק‬, see Jongeling 1973, 97–107; Kogut 1996, 203–06; Van der Merwe 1991, 297–311. 5 1 Kings 21:25–26 (‫רק לא היה כאחאב אשר התמכר לעשות הרע בעיני יהוה אשר הסתה אתו‬ ‫ )איזבל אשתו‬is apparently an interpolation interrupting the flow of the Naboth story in 1 Kings 21. See Kittel 1900, 158–59; Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 332; Gray 1970, 443; Würthwein 1984, 252; Cogan 2001, 482–84. The evaluation of Ahab and the reason for it already appear in 1 Kings 16:30–33. Šanda 1911, 467, suggests that vv. 25–26 fit better after 1 Kings 16:33. The use of ‫ רק‬here, meaning “indeed” or “just,” is also somewhat different from the other examples (Šanda 1911, 467; Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 335). Hence, this passage is not only located

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 33

directness of the qualification: (A) seven indirect qualifiers of the evaluation6 and (B) seven direct qualifiers.7 ‫ אך‬in 1 Kings 22:44 and 2 Kings 13:6 can be regarded as having the same qualifying function as ‫רק‬. As we will see below, 2 Kings 13:6 can be categorised as a variant form of (A) in terms of function and is thus categorised as (A') here.

4. A: Indirect Qualifications Each of the following seven passages describes inappropriate cultic activities at the ‫ במות‬during a particular Judahite king’s reign. The common feature shared by the following passages is, unlike those in category (B), that they do not directly degrade the king’s evaluation but describe the people’s inappropriate cultic activities during the king’s reign, thus only indirectly qualifying the evaluation of the king himself. A.1. Solomon 1 (1 Kgs 3:2) “However, the people were sacrificing at the ‫ במות‬because no house had yet been built for the name of YHWH” (‫)רק העם מזבחים בבמות כי לא נבנה בית לשם יהוה עד הימים ההם‬.

The logic here is clear. After the inauguration of the temple in Jerusalem, all the ‫ במות‬should have been demolished; hence, the ‫ במות‬is an illegitimate place for YHWH’s cult once the temple has been constructed. This is clearly one of the central messages of the Deuteronomistic school.8 The preceding verse (1 Kgs 3:1 in the MT)9 describes Solomon’s marriage to Pharaoh’s daughter and mentions that the temple was still under construction. The next verse explains how in these circumstances the people sacrificed without a temple. The arrangement of the text discussed here differs considerably between the Masoretic text and the Septuagint,10 but the text is best explained as a later interpolation, perhaps modelled by the other use of the combination outside the opening formula but also serves as a doubling of the negative evaluation. Despite the similar phraseology (‫)לעשות הרע בעיני יהוה‬, this passage should be excluded from the list of qualifying statements and thus will not be discussed in this study.  6 1 Kgs 3:2, 3 (Solomon); 2 Kgs 12:4 (Jehoash); 14:4 (Amaziah); 15:4 (Azariah); 15:35a (Jotham).   7 1 Kgs 15:5 (Uriah [David’s evaluation]), 14 (Asa); 2 Kgs 3:2, 3 (Joram); 10:29 (Jehu); 14:3 (Amaziah); 17:2 (Hoshea). Other uses of ‫ רק‬are found in 1 Kgs 8, 19, 25; 11:13; 14:8; 15:23; 21:25; 22:16; 2 Kgs 17:18; 21:8.   8 Thomas 2014, 251–58, noticing the awkwardness of ‫( רק‬which normally follows a positive evaluation and does not seem properly placed in this passage), argues that ‫ויעש שלמה הישר בעיני‬ ‫ יהוה וילך דוד אביו‬has been lost before the current 3:2 of the MT.  9 In the LXX, it is in 3  Kingdoms 5:14a. 10 In the LXX, the conquest of Gezer by Pharaoh follows the description of Solomon’s marriage to Pharaoh’s daughter, which is narrated in 1 Kings 9:16 in the MT.

34

Shuichi Hasegawa

of ‫ רק‬and ‫( במות‬see below, A.3).11 Since the cult at the ‫ במות‬continued until Josiah’s reform (2 Kgs 23:8), the author of the verse, without knowing exactly what was occurring during the earlier time period, could write that the people sacrificed there. A.2. Solomon 2 (1 Kgs 3:3) “Solomon loved YHWH, walking in the statutes of his father David. However, he sacrificed and offered incense at the ‫רק בבמות( ”במות‬ ‫ויאהב שלמה את יהוה ללכת בחקות דוד אביו‬ ‫)הוא מזבח ומקטיר‬.

The lack of the phrase ‫ כדוד אביו‬shows that, in contrast to 1 Kings 11:4b, 6 and the evaluations of some other kings in Judah,12 this text does not compare Solomon with his father David. Unlike the other passages in this category, this one describes the king himself as conducting cultic activities at the ‫( במות‬as does the following story in 1 Kgs 3:4–15). However, since the description precedes that of the construction of the temple, the overall impression received from the passage is that Solomon should not be charged with guilt for the cultic practice at the ‫במות‬. The following story, in which YHWH appears in his dream (vv. 4–15) after he sacrificed at the ‫ במה‬in Gilgal, points to the legitimacy of Solomon’s action at this stage. Thus, the author of the verse would know from the following story that Solomon did sacrifice at the ‫במות‬, which may point to its secondary character.13 There is no description of the ‫ במות‬in the reign of David, but there are two references in the reign of Saul (1 Sam 9:25; 10:5), probably indicating a deliberate omission of ‫ במות‬from the description of David’s reign so as to imply that during those years that David and the people never sacrificed at the ‫במות‬. In contrast, the mention of Solomon’s personal sacrifice at the ‫ במות‬may be construed also as a sign that the author intentionally stresses the difference in cultic activities between David and Solomon. A.3. Jehoshaphat, Jehoash, Amaziah, Azariah and Jotham (1 Kgs 22:44 [‫;]אך‬ 2 Kgs 12:4; 14:4; 15:4; 15:35a) “Nevertheless, the ‫ במות‬were not removed. The people continued to sacrifice and make offerings on the ‫עוד העם מזבחים ומקטרים בבמות( ”במות‬ ‫רק הבמות לא סרו‬/‫)אך‬.

The function of this stereotypical qualification, common to five kings who are all positively judged, is not to degrade their evaluations.14 It shows only 11 Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 103; Gray 1970, 120; Würthwein 1977, 29. Šanda 1911, 55–56, regards only v. 2a as a gloss. 12 Abijam (1 Kgs 15:3); Asa (1 Kgs 15:11); Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:3); Ahaz (2 Kgs 16:2); Hezekiah (2 Kgs 18:3); Josiah (2 Kgs 22:2). 13 Würthwein 1977, 29. 14 Weippert 1972, 310–11.

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 35

that the kings did not initiate the removal of the ‫במות‬. This is not a cause for condemnation15 but is rather a reminder designed to highlight the work of the monarchs who later removed and defiled the ‫במות‬, Hezekiah and Josiah. If the author had wished to degrade the king’s evaluation, he would presumably have described the king’s own inappropriate cultic activities, not those of the people.16 Again, the mention of ‫ במות‬should not be seen as based on a historical source. It is hard to determine the authorship of this qualification; it could be ascribed to the evaluator who judged the kings, or to a later redactor who elaborately inserted this qualification in the evaluations of these monarchs. A'. Jehoahaz of Israel (2 Kgs 13:6) “Nevertheless, they did not depart from the sins of the house of Jeroboam, which he caused Israel to sin, but walked in them; Asherah also remained in Samaria” (‫אך לא סרו‬ ‫)מחטאת בית ירבעם אשר החטי את ישראל בה הלך וגם האשרה עמדה בשמרון‬.

Unlike the above examples that evaluate the kings of Judah, this passage describes the reign of a king of Israel. The target of condemnation here is obviously the people of the Northern Kingdom and not Jehoahaz himself. A similar case can be found in the evaluation of Hoshea (2 Kgs 17:22; see B.6 below) where the people, not the king, are faulted for not departing from Jeroboam’s sin. Hence, the purpose of this verse is certainly different from the above examples (A.3), whose function is to highlight Hezekiah and Josiah. Between Jehoahaz’s entreaty to YHWH (2 Kgs 13:4), which was heeded by YHWH (13:5), and the description of the miserable situation of Jehoahaz’s army (13:7),17 a description of inappropriate cultic activities is needed to explain the misery without casting blame on the king, who has already appropriately entreated YHWH. The passage in question plays such a role without reiterating the king’s activity. Following the sin of Jeroboam is a schematic description employed in evaluations of either the kings or the people in the Northern Kingdom. But is the statement about an Asherah that stood in Samaria based on a particular historical source? Here we must remember that in the biblical story, Ahab first built the Asherah in the Northern Kingdom (1 Kgs 16:33). No mention of it appears before Ahab’s period. Neither in the passage describing Joram’s removal of the pillar of Baal (2 Kgs 3:2; see B.3 below) nor in Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult 15 Thomas 2014, 179, n. 7, states, “[i]n Kings, the departing could mean that the king is not culpable for bāmâ-worship, since the particle ‫ רק‬is there and may be contrastive.” 16 The personal sacrifice at the ‫ במות‬is indeed noted in the description of Solomon’s reign in 1 Kings 3:3, but there I do not take it as a degradation of the king; see A.2 above. 17 For the fictional feature of the numbers of Jehoahaz’s army described in 2 Kings 13:7, see Hasegawa 2010, 35–39.

36

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(2 Kgs 10:18–28) is the removal of an Asherah recounted. This situation with the Asherah is said to have continued until the end of the kingdom (2 Kgs 17:10). This makes it possible for the author to assume that the Asherah stood in Samaria throughout the period under the Jehuite dynasty. It seems that the mention of the Asherah here does not derive from any historical source. It is instead a product of the author’s intellectual guess, based on both the mention of Ahab’s construction of the Asherah and the lack of any reference to its removal in the description of Jehu’s cult reform. If this theory is correct, then the reference to Ahab’s building of an Asherah in 1 Kings 16:33 can be considered as based on a historical source. The author of 2 Kings 13:6 probably considered it necessary to explain the sad state of Jehoahaz’s army as described in v. 7 from a theological viewpoint and thus added the Asherah to the stereotypical description of the sin of Jeroboam. Since v. 7 is probably a secondary insertion,18 the addition of the Asherah can be regarded as even later.

5. B: Direct Qualification The following six passages (in 2 Kgs 3:2–3, ‫ רק‬appears twice) directly qualify the personal evaluations of the kings either positively or negatively. B.1. David (1 Kgs 15:5) “Because David did what was right in the sight of YHWH and did not turn aside from anything that he commanded him all the days of his life, except in the matter of Uriah the Hittite” (‫אשר עשה דוד את הישר בעיני יהוה ולא סר מכל אשר צוהו כל ימי חייו רק בדבר‬ ‫)אוריה החתי‬.

This verse, appearing in the evaluation of Abijam king of Judah, is the only passage outside the book of Samuel that refers to the affair with Bathsheba and unequivocally recognises it as a negative action taken by David. Since no evaluation of the king appears in the lengthy description of David’s reign, even in the quasi-opening (2 Sam 5:3–4) and closing (1 Kgs 2:10–12) formulae of his reign, this verse actually functions as the missing evaluation of David. As the readers know the Bathsheba affair from the book of Samuel (2 Sam 11), such an evaluation cannot ignore this grave sin of David and was therefore added to qualify the preceding, quite positive evaluation of this king. Why this qualification appears here, in the midst of the evaluation of Abijam and not in that of Solomon (1 Kgs 11:4b), remains a question. The placement might be explained by the fact that the evaluation of kings using the regnal formulae 18 Hasegawa

2014, 68–73.

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 37

starts only with that of Abijam, which serves as a standard for the evaluation of the succeeding kings.19 In the Septuagint (Codex Vaticanus), “except in the matter of Uriah the Hittite” is missing,20 which shows that the clause is an insertion by a late redactor who “corrected” the information given in the verse.21 B.2. Asa (1 Kgs 15:14) “But the ‫ במות‬were not taken away. Nevertheless, the heart of Asa was true to YHWH all his days” (‫)והבמות לא־סרו רק לבב אסא היה שלם עם יהוה כל ימיו‬.

This Judahite king receives a positive evaluation in 1 Kings 15:11. His cult reform, the reason for the positive evaluation, is described in the following verses (vv. 12–13). If there had been no other positive activity by Asa, 1 Kings 15:14b would be unnecessary and a standard qualification of A.3 should immediately follow v. 13. However, because of a further positive action by this monarch, bringing votive gifts into the temple, described in v. 15, another positive qualification is necessary in v. 14b. This implies two things: (1) the information concerning Asa’s votive gifts derives from an archival source, possibly from the temple; (2) the order of Asa’s activities in the text that the author of v. 14b used is exactly the same as in the current text, as I will now demonstrate. V. 11 contains a positive evaluation of Asa based on the information concerning his “good” cultic activities described in the following vv. 12–13. The qualification in v. 14b is necessary between v. 14a, a standard degrading description of a Judahite king’s reign and v. 15 describing another “good” activity of Asa. The author of v. 14a did not put the qualification after v. 15 because he wanted to retain the order of the description. Two similar cases can be found in the books of Kings: (1) 1 Kings 14:25–28, where Shishak takes all the treasure from the temple (and from the royal palace) and Rehoboam makes bronze shields instead of Solomon’s golden shields; and (2) 2 Kings 12:17–18, where Jehoash of Judah gives all the votive gifts from the temple to Hazael, king of Aram. The order of items in the short episode relating to the temple treasure is the same as in 2 Kings 14. In sum, the very existence of v. 14b may indicate that the information in v. 15 is based on a particular archival source. Notably, the qualification here that “nevertheless, the heart of Asa was true to YHWH all his days (‫ ”)רק לבב אסא היה שלם עם יהוה כל ימיו‬is the reverse of the evaluation of Abijam, his father: “his heart was not true to YHWH, his god, like the heart of his father David (‫”)ולא היה לבבו שלם עם יהוה אלהיו כלבב דוד אביו‬ 19 The evaluation of Solomon in 1 Kings 11:6 is not located in the opening formula of Solomon’s reign. 20 It exists in the most of the MSS of the LXXL. 21 Šanda 1911, 383; Würthwein 1977, 184, n. 2; Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 274; Gray 1970, 348; Cogan 2001, 393.

38

Shuichi Hasegawa

(1 Kgs 15:3). Reversing the phrase used in the evaluation of the king’s father seems to be a technique employed by this late redactor, who is also responsible for editing 2 Kings 3:2 (see B.3 below). B.3. Joram (2 Kgs 3:2–3) “He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH, though not like his father and mother, for he removed the pillar of Baal that his father had made. Nevertheless, he clung to the sin of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to commit; he did not depart from it” (‫ויעשה הרע בעיני יהוה רק לא כאביו וכאמו ויסר את מצבת הבעל אשר עשה אביו רק בחטאות‬ ‫לא סר ממנה‬ ‫)ירבעם בן נבט אשר החטיא את ישראל דבק‬.22

Joram son of Ahab, king of Israel, was the last monarch of the dynasty of Omri, which consisted of four kings who ruled the Northern Kingdom of Israel. Joram succeeded Ahaziah his brother when the latter died after a two-year reign (1 Kgs 22:52; 2 Kgs 1:17). According to the description quoted above, the reason for the qualification in v. 2a (“yet not like his father and mother”)23 of the judgment of Joram can be identified as his removal of the pillar (‫ )מצבה‬of Baal that his father,24 namely Ahab, had made, as described in v. 2b.25 Three inconsistencies within the books of Kings concerning this description have been pointed out.26 First, Joram’s removal of the pillar is not mentioned again in the description of his reign that follows this verse. Second, the installation of a pillar of Baal is not mentioned in the description of Ahab’s reign.27 Third, 2 Kings 10:26–27 (MT) clearly states that at Jehu’s command the pillar(s) of Baal was/were brought out of the temple of Baal and destroyed.28 Since the expression ‫מצבת הבעל‬/‫ מצבות בית הבעל‬appears only in these two places in the Hebrew Bible, they can be firmly identified as referring to the same pillar(s). This double mention of the pillars of Baal indicates a discrepancy between 2 Kings 3:2–3 and 10:26–27 and raises the question 22 The

Septuagint displays the same text in 4  Kingdoms 1:18a–c with some variants. 4  Kingdoms 1:18b in the LXX, it is “not like his brother nor like his mother.” 24  4  Kingdoms 1:18c in the LXX adds “and shattered them.” 25 According to Šanda, 2 Kings 10:18, in which Jehu refers not to Joram’s sin but only to that of Ahab, Joram’s father, suggests that Joram did not commit as much sin as his father, thus corroborating the qualification in 2 Kings 3:2 (Šanda 1912, 17–18). See also Lemaire 2008, 48. 26 Hoffmann 1980, 85–86. 27 Hobbs 1985, 34. 28 The word ‫ מצבות‬is sometimes emended to ‫ מצבת‬in accordance with τὴν στήλην attested in the LXXL and with the object of the verb ‫וישרפוה‬, “to burn it.” For example, see Gray 1970, 558. Yet, based on 1 Kings 16:33, many scholars suggest emending ‫ מצבות‬in 2 Kings 10:26 to ‫ אשרת‬since making of an Asherah is reported in the former. The verb employed, ‫“( שרף‬to burn”), is another basis for this emendation because ‫ מצבה‬made of stone cannot be burnt. See Stade 1885, 278; Benzinger 1899, 154; Kittel 1900, 242; Burney 1903, 306; Šanda 1912, 117. For reservations about and objections to this view, see Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 411; Cogan and Tadmor 1988, 116. On the other hand, Keil 1876, 290, regarding the object of ‫ וישרפוה‬as abstraction of the plural form ‫מצבות‬, requires no emendation. 23 In

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 39

of whether the two passages can be ascribed to the same hand. If both passages were composed by the Deuteronomist,29 it must be explained how Jehu’s officers (‫ )שלשים‬and forerunners (‫ )רצים‬were able to remove the pillar(s) of Baal that Joram had already removed. Hans-Detlef Hoffmann explains this discrepancy between 2 Kings 3:2–3 and 10:26–27 in terms of the Deuteronomist’s indifference towards both such issues of consistency and the specific cult objects described in these verses.30 He ascribes the mitigation in 2 Kings 3:2 to the Deuteronomist, who employs formulaic phrases to describe the reigns of the kings of Israel and Judah.31 As for whether the Deuteronomist relied on any historical source to evaluate the kings, Hoffmann suggests that these formulaic statements do not. The Deuteronomist instead wished to convey, through this mitigation, a theological message that catastrophes occur not because of the sin of any particular individual living at the time but because of the sins of his dynastic ancestors and of all the people.32 On the other hand, André Lemaire, regarding ‫ מצבת הבעל‬as either a bas-relief representing Baal or an inscription dedicated to Baal, assumes the historical authenticity of the information contained in 2 Kings 3:2b. To explain the inconsistency between 2 Kings 3 and 10, Lemaire suggests emending the text of 2 Kings 10:26–27 to “They brought out the *Asherah of the temple of Baal and burned it and they pulled down the *altar of Baal and they pulled down the temple of Baal.”33 In light of the ancient Near Eastern custom of dedicating royal stelae in honour of gods, Cogan and Tadmor also surmise a historical background behind the placement or removal of such stelae in Samaria.34 Such an emendation may skilfully solve the problem.35 Nevertheless, when we carefully examine the variants of the present verses, which Lemaire does not take into account, another picture emerges. In the Septuagint (LXX), Antiochian text of the Septuagint (LXXL), Vulgate (Vulg.) and Old Latin (OL), the stories in 2 Kings 10:25–27 are quite different from the one narrated in the Masoretic text (MT) and also differ from each other to a considerable extent.36 The 29 Based on the typical phraseology, scholars ascribe 10:25b–27 to the Deuteronomist. See Barré 1988, 21; O’Brien 1989, 197–98; Pakkala 1999, 163–64; Otto 2001, 55; Hasegawa 2012, 23–24. 30 Hoffmann 1980, 85, n. 38, refers to 1 Kings 15:12 and 1 Kings 22:47 (MT) as such an example. In the former passage, Asa of Judah expelled the male prostitutes; in the latter, Jehoshaphat exterminated those that still remained. 31 Hoffmann 1980, 86. 32 Hoffmann 1980, 86. 33 Lemaire 2008, 48. This emendation was previously suggested by Stade 1885, 278–79. 34 Cogan and Tadmor 1988, 42–43. See also Timm 1982, 39, who, surmising that Ahab’s installation of the pillars of Baal was in the source available to the author, suggests that the Deuteronomist did not include in his work all of what was available to him. 35 For the methodological problems with this approach, see Trebolle-Barrera 1984a, 126. 36 Trebolle-Barrera 1984a, 126–38; idem 1984b, 17–36; Schenker 2004, 149–67.

40

Shuichi Hasegawa

OL even presents two similar episodes in succession.37 Adrian Schenker’s careful analysis of these texts demonstrates the highly complicated textual history of this episode. He cogently shows that the second episode preserved in the OL is the oldest, whereas the LXXL still displays similarity to the oldest text but is closer to the MT.38 In the second episode of the OL, not the pillar but the garment of Baal is brought out and burnt. Four of the six LXXL manuscripts also support the originality of the word “garment” (στολὴν) here, which is suitable for the verb “to burn” that Lemaire judges as inappropriate to use with the stone stela.39 In the following description, the pillars of Baal are overthrown and bronze is destroyed. Schenker suggests that the author employed this description in order to emphasise the piety of Jehu, who does not misappropriate the treasure of the pagan god (cf. 2 Kgs 25:13).40 According to Schenker’s reconstruction of the textual history, the pillars of Baal are indeed mentioned in 2 Kings 10:26–27 of the original Hebrew text as ‫מצבות הבעל‬, yet not in v. 26 but in v. 27. This leads us to question once again the authenticity of the double mentioning of the same object, the pillars of Baal, in 2 Kings 3:2 and 10:27. As we have seen above in the case of Jehoahaz (A'), the backdrop to the addition of a qualification of an evaluation must be examined in view of the context of the biblical story as well as in the light of the entire evaluation system of the kings of Israel and Judah. Since no plausible reason to change the word “pillar (‫ ”)מצבה‬from singular to plural in 2 Kings 3:2 can be found, its original form is assumed to be in the plural, ‫מצבות הבעל‬, as attested in the LXX, LXXL and Vulg.41 The original form in 2 Kings 10:27 would likewise be plural, as attested in the LXX, LXXL and OL, the oldest text. Hence, the two passages indeed seem to conflict with each other: Joram removes the pillars of Baal (3:2) and the same pillars are overthrown in the process of Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult (10:27). The singular form ‫ מצבת הבעל‬in 2 Kings 3:2 in the MT reflects a later attempt to solve the problem: Joram removed only one pillar of Baal and later Jehu’s officers and forerunners overturned the remainder of them.42 The next step is to elucidate the authorship of 2 Kings 3:2 and 10:26–27. As mentioned above, 2 Kings 10:26–27 is widely ascribed to the Deuteronomist 37 MS

115. For the text, see Fischer 1986, 378. 2004, 149–67. 39 Lemaire 2008, 47. 40 Schenker 2004, 154–56. 41 In 4  Kingdoms 1:18c in the LXX, it is also plural. 42 Spieckermann 1982, 208–09, n. 114, reaches a similar conclusion that the textual problem hints at an attempt by a later editor to solve the double mention of the pillars of Baal in 2 Kings 3:2 and 10:26–27. Nevertheless, he assumes that the original form of “pillar” was in the singular and that the plural form was a corruption occurring in the course of textual transmission. See also Eynikel 1996, 213. 38 Schenker

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 41

or Deuteronomistic editor because of its Deuteronomistic phraseology such as ‫ שרף‬and ‫נתץ‬.43 These verbs are used in the description of Josiah’s cult reform,44 supporting the theory of ascribing them to the Deuteronomist. According to this line of argument, the Deuteronomist employed the same phraseology to describe the cult reforms of Josiah and Hezekiah, also adopting the same terminology in narrating Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult, a positive action in his view. Nevertheless, distinct differences exist between the descriptions of the cult reforms of Josiah and Hezekiah and Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult. In the former, the subject of the verbs is exclusively the king, whereas in 2 Kings 10:26– 27 of the OL, the supposed oldest text, the agent of the verbs is not Jehu but the officers and forerunners. Even if the Deuteronomist or a Deuteronomistic editor employed those verses, the story of Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult itself is originally an independent story, most plausibly derived from a Northern Kingdom tradition.45 Despite the argument that would see vv. 25b–27 as a Deuteronomistic composition,46 the narrative style of the original story in those verses in the OL suggests the continuation of the preceding story: the officers and forerunners executed the cult reform according to Jehu’s command.47 Therefore, the overthrowing of the pillars of Baal described in 2 Kings 10:27 (OL) cannot be regarded as a mere Deuteronomistic ideological composition, even though the phraseology itself is derived from the Deuteronomist or a Deuteronomistic editor.48 The OL employs the word detraxerunt to describe the action taken with the pillars; the original Hebrew word for this verb is supposed not to be ‫נתץ‬, but ‫ שבר‬used together with ‫ות‬/‫ מצבת‬in the other passages.49 Having established the originality of the information in 2 Kings 10:26–27 in the OL, we now turn to 2 Kings 3:2b. If the qualification is omitted, 2 Kings 3:2–3 would read ‫ויעשה הרע בעיני יהוה [ו]בחטאות ירבועם בן נבט אשר החטיא את ישראל‬ ‫דבק לא סר ממנה‬, which is, save for small variants, almost equivalent to the evaluation of other kings of the Northern Kingdom from Jehu onward.50 Juha Pa43 Otto

2001, 54; Hasegawa 2012, 24, n. 66. 2 Kgs 23:7, 8, 12, 15; ‫שרף‬: 2 Kgs 23:4, 6, 11, 15. 45  The original end of the Jehu Narrative is discussed by Otto, who regards vv. 25b–27 as a Deuteronomistic replenishment (Otto 2001, 54). Yet Otto also points to the possibility that the story already existed before the Deuteronomist integrated it into the larger narrative (Otto 2001, 54, n. 153). See Hasegawa 2012, 23–24 on earlier literature. 46 Hoffmann 1980, 100, calls the style “Auferzählung” and ascribes it to the Dtr redactor. See also Barré 1988, 21. 47 Mulzer 1992, 271–73. I have modified my view as expressed in Hasegawa 2012, 23–24. Otto does not consider that the OL preserves the oldest text (Otto 2001, 54), even though that fact is reflected in his reconstruction of 2 Kings 10:25–27 (Otto 2001, 40). 48 Spieckermann and Eynikel also refute the ascription of 2 Kings 3:2 and 10:26–27 to the Deuteronomist because of the term ‫ מצבת הבעל‬which is mentioned only in these two passages (Spieckermann 1982, 208, n. 114; Eynikel 1996, 214). 49 Exod 23:24; 2 Kgs 18:4; 23:14; Jer 43:13; 2 Chr 14:3; 31:1. 50 Timm 1982, 38. Weippert distinguishes this formula from that of the kings before Joram (Weippert 1972, 309). 44 ‫נתץ‬:

42

Shuichi Hasegawa

kkala points out the grammatical improbability of the sentence when omitting ‫רק‬, because the resulting sentence has an inverted word order with the verb at the end.51 Thus Pakkala assumes the authenticity of v. 2. Yet he also admits the possibility of later editing with the reformulation of the entire sentence,52 which seems to have happened here.53 Indeed, an artificial element is recognised in 2 Kings 3:2. The expression of qualification “not like his father and mother (‫ ”)רק לא כאביו וכאמו‬is exactly the reverse of the evaluation of Ahaziah his predecessor and brother, who “walked in the way of his father and mother (‫( ”)בדרך אביו ובדרך אמו‬1 Kgs 22:52–53).54 As mentioned above in the case of Asa (B.2), reversing the phrase used in the description of the evaluation of the king’s father is a common technique employed by this late redactor. Taking all this into consideration, I suggest that 2 Kings 3:2aβ–3 reflects later editorial work based on the information found in 2 Kings 10:26–27 of the original text.55 The text of 2 Kings 3:2–3 before the editorial work would be reconstructed as ‫ויעשה הרע בעיני יהוה לא סר מחטאות ירבועם בן נבט אשר החטיא‬ ‫את ישראל‬. Why, then, did the editor write “not like his father and mother” in 2 Kings 3:2? To answer this question, one must understand the editorial tendency to add color to the history of the Northern dynasties in the books of Kings. In a previous article, I demonstrated how a later editor, by expanding several passages (2 Kgs 10:32; 13:3, 25a; 14:28) with concrete information, attempted to accentuate the vicissitude of the dynasty of Jehu as described in the books of Kings.56 The added information may prima facie appear to be historically reliable, but it is not actually based on any historical source. The same editor might have been responsible for adding “not like his father and mother” to add color to the evaluation of the last king of the Omride dynasty. The same may also hold true for “in the way of his father and mother” in 1 Kings 22:53. However, in this case, no concrete information is necessary since it is already provided in the following text as “he served Baal and worshipped 51 Pakkala

1999, 164. states, “The only other possibility would be that a later redactor had replaced a text or completely reformulated the sentences, an assumption that is always questionable if one can otherwise reach a reasonable solution” (Pakkala 1999, 164). 53 Cf. Josephus, A. J., Book IX, ch. 2, 2, describing Joram as wicked without mitigation. 54 Hoffmann 1980, 84, n. 32. Comparison with the direct predecessor is usually found in the evaluation of the kings of Judah, but not in those of the kings of Israel other than here and in 1 Kings 22:53. Weippert 1972, 311–12; see also Eynikel 1996, 79–82; O’Brien 1989, 197–98. 55 O’Brien suggests the possibility that 2 Kings 3:2b was composed based on the episode in 2 Kings 10:26–27, which states that the pillars of Baal were brought out of the “inner room” (O’Brien 1989, 198, n. 82); the Deuteronomist might have interpreted this passage as indicating that they were not on display during Joram’s time. See also Šanda 1912, 17–18, 113. Würthwein ascribes 2 Kings 3:2aβ–b to DtrN (Würthwein 1984, 279). 56 Hasegawa 2014, 61–76. 52 Pakkala

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 43

him; he provoked YHWH, the god of Israel, to anger, just as his father had done” (1 Kgs 22:54) in the original evaluation. A close look at 1 Kings 22:53 shows how this editor was inspired by the previously existing text. “Just as his father had done (‫ ”)ככל אשר עשה אביו‬appears in v. 54; “the way of Jeroboam (‫בדרך‬ ‫ ”)ירבעם‬is present in v. 53. Jehu, when he killed Joram, mentions only “the many whoredoms and sorceries of your mother Jezebel” (2 Kgs 9:22) as the reason for his rebellion. Therefore, it is clear that the negative evaluation of the Omride dynasty is associated with Ahab and Jezebel his wife, especially the latter, who allegedly brought the cult of Baal from Sidon to Israel (1 Kgs 16:31–32). The late editor, inspired by the above information, inserted ‫אביו ובדרך אמו ובדרך‬ between ‫ וילך בדרך‬and ‫ ירבעם‬to remind the readers, who know the preceding story, of this sinful royal couple. In this editor’s eyes, Ahaziah was equally sinful as his parents. Clearly Ahab was worse than Omri or even the worst king in the Northern Kingdom up until him, since “Ahab did more to provoke the anger of YHWH, the god of Israel, than had all the kings of Israel who were before him” according to 1 Kings 16:33 (see also v. 30). Ahaziah is equally as bad as his father (and mother). On the other hand, Joram is different because the editor could not find any description of Joram’s cultic activities. The editor knew that Jehu killed Joram, thereby bringing an end to the Omride dynasty. He could have described Joram as equally bad as his father and mother, but he preferred to mitigate the judgment on him to accentuate the history of the dynasty. The hidden theological message behind this mitigation might be, as Hoffmann suggests,57 that catastrophe (the fall of the Omride dynasty) strikes not because of the sin of an individual (Joram) living immediately before it, but because of the sin of his ancestors (Omri, Ahab and Ahaziah). Even though Joram was not as bad as Ahab and Ahaziah and even carried out a modest cult reform, the fall of the dynasty happened in his time. To attenuate the judgment along with “not like his father and mother,” a description of Joram’s petit cult reform was inserted, indicating the concrete reason for the mitigation. The editor knew from 2 Kings 10:26–27 that the pillars of Baal were torn down at the time of Jehu’s coup. He could not depict Joram as removing the shrine of Baal because it is described as the main arena in the story of Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult. From here, he received the idea of inserting “he removed the pillars of Baal that his father had made.” The pillars were removed but not torn down until Jehu’s coup. “That his father had made” (‫ )אשר עשה אביו‬is used both in 1 Kings 22:53 and 2 Kings 3:2b,58 which can be ascribed to the same hand. Since Ahab was known as the promoter of Baal

57 Hoffmann 58 It

1980, 86. is also used in 2 Kings 24:9 to describe Jehoiachin’s reign. Cf. 2  Samuel 10:2.

44

Shuichi Hasegawa

worship, even without the presence of a parallel reference in the description of his reign, readers would be convinced that Ahab had indeed built such pillars. The editor carefully chose the word ‫ הסיר‬for Joram’s petit cult reform to make a contrast with Jehu’s exhaustive action. The verb ‫ הסיר‬is also used in 2 Kings 18:4, describing Hezekiah’s removal of the ‫במות‬. The ‫ במות‬were rebuilt by Manasseh son of Hezekiah (2 Kgs 21:3) and were later defiled (‫ )טמא‬by Josiah (2 Kgs 23:8).59 The difference in action between Hezekiah and Josiah underscores the thoroughness of Josiah’s cult reform. In addition, Josiah defiled the ‫ במות‬so that they could not be reused. In the original episode of Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult in 2 Kings 10:26–27 (OL), the Baal shrine was thrown into a dung hill, an action that certainly represents defilement. Thus, the editor’s careful choice of the word ‫ הסיר‬in 2 Kings 3:2b to make a stark contrast with Jehu’s thorough action against the Baal cult is evident. In sum, the removal of the pillars of Baal in 2 Kings 3:2b is not based on historical sources but was added by a late editor who wished to accentuate the vicissitude of the Omride dynasty as well as to convey the message that, despite a cult reform, catastrophe ensues because of the sin of the king’s ancestors. This explanation possibly represents a theological attempt to comprehend the baffling death of Josiah, who executed a thorough cult reform but was killed by Necho (2 Kgs 23:29–30).60 B.4. Jehu (2 Kgs 10:29) “But Jehu did not turn aside from the sins of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to commit; the golden calves that were in Bethel and in Dan” (‫רק חטאי ירבעם בן נבט‬ ‫עגלי הזהב אשר בית אל ואשר בדן‬ ‫)אשר החטיא את ישראל לא סר יהוא מאחריהם‬.

Jehu was the founder of the Jehuite dynasty, established after his coup against Joram.61 Jehu is unquestionably evaluated as the best Northern Israelite king due to his eradication of the Baal cult from Israel, which Ahab had promoted. In the eyes of the evaluator, however, no Israelite king can be completely good. This passage is, in a way, similar to the qualification of the Judahite kings with ‫במות‬. The evaluator reminds the reader of Jeroboam’s sin and, by referring to it, asserts that even Jehu is no exception to the pattern. The remarkable mention of “the golden calves that were in Bethel and in Dan” helps readers understand that Jehu indeed exterminated the Baal cult from the Northern Kingdom but not the golden calves that Jeroboam I built.62 The expression ‫עגלי זהב‬/‫עגלים‬, other than in the 59 According to 2 Kings 23:15, the ‫ במות‬at Bethel were pulled down (‫ )נתץ‬and burnt (‫)שרף‬ by the same king. Moreover, according to 2 Kings 23:19, the houses of ‫ במות‬in the towns of Samaria were removed (‫ )הסיר‬and treated in the same way as in Bethel. 60 On the Josiah’s death, see Hasegawa 2017. 61 For the history of this dynasty, see Hasegawa, 2012. 62 On the schematic use of this expression, see Hasegawa 2012, 84–85; Robker 2012, 50–51; Thomas 2014, 194, n. 64.

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 45

story of its construction by Jeroboam (1 Kgs 12:26–33), appears only here and in 2 Kings 17:16, depicting the reason for the fall of the Northern Kingdom. Thus this expression, deliberately chosen, would strongly lead the readers to associate it with the fall of the Northern Kingdom, despite the quite positive evaluation of Jehu. The technique of interpolation may indicate the work of a late redactor. There are actually two qualifications of Jehu in 2 Kings 10; one appears in v. 29 and the other in v. 31 (without using ‫אך‬/‫ רק‬but using ‫)ו‬, attenuating the preceding positive descriptions.63 V. 29 qualifies the positive action of Jehu – namely, his eradication of the Baal cult from Israel. In a way similar to the cases of Jehoahaz (A'; 2 Kgs 13:6) and Asa (B.2; 2 Kgs 15:14), a reminder of the sin of Jeroboam in v. 31 is necessary between YHWH’s promise to Jehu in v. 30, that his dynasty will reign over Israel for four generations after him, and vv. 32–33, which describe the disaster.64 Thus, v. 30 can also be regarded as a late interpolation. B.5. Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:3) “He did what was right in the sight of YHWH, yet not like his ancestor David; in all things he did as his father Jehoash had done” (‫ככל‬ ‫ויעש הישר בעיני יהוה רק לא כדוד אביו‬ ‫)אשר עשה יואש אביו עשה‬.

Amaziah son of Jehoash was the king of Judah who defeated the Edomites (2 Kgs 14:7) but lost his battle against the Israelites, as a consequence of which Jerusalem was attacked during his reign (2 Kgs 14:8–14). He was assassinated (2 Kgs 14:19–20) like his father Jehoash (2 Kgs 12:20–21). In 2 Kings 14:3, Amaziah is compared on the one hand with his father Jehoash and evaluated as equal to him, and on the other hand with David.65 Unlike his son, Jehoash, father of Amaziah, is not compared with David, but he is also evaluated as a good king,66 due to his obedience to Jehoiada’s instruction67 and his repairing of the temple as described in vv. 5–17.68  Robker 2012, 50 ascribes both verses to the Dtr redactor.  For the secondary feature of v. 33, see Hasegawa 2014, 69–73. 65 Seven kings of Judah are compared with David in their evaluations: Solomon (1 Kgs 11:4, 6), Abijam (1 Kgs 15:3), Asa (1 Kgs 15:11), Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:3), Ahaz (2 Kgs 16:2), Hezekiah (2 Kgs 18:3) and Josiah (2 Kgs 22:2). Of these, four are compared negatively (Solomon, Abijam, Amaziah and Ahaz) and three positively (Asa, Hezekiah and Josiah). 66 The evaluation of Jehoash reads, “Jehoash did what was right in the sight of YHWH all his days, because the priest Jehoiada instructed him. Nevertheless, the high places were not taken away; the people continued to sacrifice and make offerings on the high places” (2 Kgs 12:2–3). 67 ‫ אשר הורהו יהוידע הכהן‬in 2 Kings 12:3 should be regarded as an editorial addition influenced by the story in 2 Kings 11, which is most likely a postexilic composition reflecting the time during which the priest was the leading figure. On this ascription of 2 Kings 11 to a postexilic layer see Na’aman 2016, 181–205. 68 Jehoash sent the treasure of the temple to Hazael when the latter went up to Jerusalem (2 Kgs 12:17–18), which should be regarded as a negative action. 63 64

46

Shuichi Hasegawa

Amaziah is portrayed as having obeyed the Torah of Moses by not executing the descendants of the murderers of his father (14:5–6), which should be a reason for Amaziah’s positive evaluation.69 As we have seen above (A.3), 2 Kings 14:4 functions as a qualification of Amaziah’s good evaluation. The reason for putting “yet not like his ancestor David (‫ ”)רק לא כדוד אביו‬in 2 Kings 14:3 is to relativise the evaluation of Amaziah, who was good, but not as good as David. In the cases of the three kings (Asa, Hezekiah and Josiah) who are compared positively with David, the descriptions of their cult reforms, which are positively evaluated, follow the comparisons.70 Yet no such cult reform can be found in the description of Amaziah’s reign. This must be the reason for qualifying the positive evaluation of Amaziah. Since this qualification displays knowledge of the positive evaluation of Amaziah and of the lack of description of any cult reform, it must have been added later.71 “In all things he did as his father Jehoash had done” (‫ככל אשר עשה יואש אביו‬ ‫ )עשה‬may also be ascribed to the same editor who added “yet not like his ancestor David.” Jehoash is chosen for two reasons: (1) he was Amaziah’s father; (2) he too was evaluated as a good king. At any rate, this qualification is not based on any historical source, as indicated by the lack of the description of Amaziah’s concrete cultic activities.72 B.6. Hoshea (2 Kgs 17:2) “He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH, yet not like the kings of Israel who were before him” (‫רק לא כמלכי ישראל אשר היו לפניו‬ ‫( )ויעש הרע בעיני יהוה‬MT). 69 The word “Torah” is mentioned eleven times in the books of Kings (1 Kgs 2:3; 2 Kgs 10:31;

14:6; 17:13, 34, 37; 21:8; 22:8, 11; 23:24, 25), among which “Torah of Moses” appears in 1 Kgs 2:3; 2 Kgs 14:6 and 23:25. Auld regards “Torah” in 2 Kgs 14:6 as a secondary insertion (Auld 1994, 145). 70 Asa: 1 Kgs 15:12–13; Hezekiah: 2 Kgs 18:4; Josiah: 2 Kgs 22:3–23:25. 71 Šanda regards the qualification in v. 3 as secondary, for ‫ רק‬in v. 3, which is expected in the end of the verse, collides with another ‫ רק‬in v. 4 (Šanda 1912, 161). See also Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 439. Provan also ascribes the verse to a secondary hand, but does not explain why it is inserted here. He states, “The presence of two excepting statements in vv. 3–4, both beginning with ‫רק‬, makes the passage syntactically awkward, and disrupts the pattern of the positive judgment formulae for the whole section, in which uniformly only one such statement, relating to the non-removal of the ‫במות‬, exists (1 Kgs 15:14, with ‫ ;ו‬22:44 with ‫ ;אך‬and 2 Kgs 12:4; 15:4, 35 with ‫( ”)רק‬Provan 1991, 93, n. 2). Weippert also sees the qualification in v. 3 as a later insertion, ascribing it to Redactor II, in the time of Josiah (Weippert 1972, 314). Cf. also Gray 1970, 604. 72 2  Chronicles 25:2, the writer of which apparently knew 2 Kings 14:3, deliberately changes the evaluation: “He did what was right in the sight of YHWH, yet not with a true heart” (‫ויעש‬ ‫)הישר בעיני יהוה רק לא בלבב שלם‬, indicating that 2 Kings 14:3 existed in the Vorlage that the Chronicler consulted. The Chronicler, less interested in comparison between the Judahite kings and David, did not change the positive evaluation found in the Vorlage but changed the qualification from “yet not like his ancestor David” to “yet not with a true heart.”

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 47

Hoshea, the last king of Israel, is evaluated as an evil king but less so than his predecessors.73 In the case of Joram (B.3), a clear reason for the positive mitigation is provided in the following verse (2 Kgs 3:2b). In contrast, in the case of Hoshea, no reason for positively qualifying the judgment is mentioned. Supposing that the tempering of judgment in the books of Kings is based on a particular record available to the Deuteronomist or to an earlier editor of the book, there should have been a now-missing record of Hoshea’s religious activities that caused the author to evaluate Hoshea’s deeds somewhat positively.74 Since such records are usually regarded as historically reliable, this might mean that Hoshea carried out some cult reform such as removal of the calves. Such an action might corroborate Nadav Na’aman’s recent study on the book of Hosea, in which Na’aman proposes that part of Hosea’s prophecy might have occurred during Hoshea’s reign.75 According to Na’aman, the calf in Samaria was removed and taken away to Assyria when that nation deported Hoshea after he violated his oath to the Assyrian king. It is noteworthy that the “sin of Jeroboam,” the main reason repeatedly cited for the negative assessment of Israelite kings, is absent in the evaluation of Hoshea.76 Even if the calf was removed not by Hoshea but by the Assyrians, its removal could have been a reason for exonerating Hoshea of “the sin of Jeroboam.”77 If that is the case, the reservation in 2 Kings 17:2 reflects an actual historical situation in Hoshea’s time and also suggests that the qualification is based on a certain reliable record available to the author. The texts of 2 Kings 17:2 in the LXX and Vulg. are substantially equivalent to that in the MT, but that in the LXXL is quite different. It reads: “He [Hoshea] did what was evil in the sight of YHWH beyond all that were before him (καὶ ἐποίησε τὸ πονηρὸν ἐνώπιον Κυρίου παρὰ πάντας τοὺς γενομένους ἔμπροσθεν αὐτοῦ).” There is no mitigation of the judgment; on the contrary, Hoshea is depicted as the worst among all the Israelite kings, more wicked even than Ahab

73  Thomas states, “[a]ll northern kings are compared with Jeroboam and his ‘sin’ of fashioning two golden calves at Bethel and Dan, with the exceptions of Elah and Shallum, who lack regnal evaluations (1 Kgs 16:6, 8–11; 2 Kgs 15:13–15) and Hoshea (2 Kgs 17:2), whose sins did not equal those of Jeroboam and therefore is represented as a contrastive figure” (Thomas 2014, 149). 74 See Benzinger 1899, 172; Kittel 1900, 272. On the other hand, Gray explains this mitigation in terms of the short and troubled reign of Hoshea (Gray 1970/1977, 641). 75 Na’aman 2015, 232–56. 76 It is likewise omitted in the formulaic description of the reign of Shallum, who ruled for only a month (2 Kgs 15:13–15). Thenius suggests that his reign was too short to be judged according to cultic activities (Thenius 1873, 379). Likewise, the evaluations of Elah, Tibni and Zimri, all of whom ruled for a short period of time, are missing. See also Zevit 1985, 65. 77 Rofé 1988, 98, suggests that the absence of the formulaic denouncement of “the sin of Jeroboam” may indicate that the calves were taken away to Assyria.

48

Shuichi Hasegawa

and Ahaziah, representing an opposite evaluation from that expressed in the MT.78 The OL (MSS L91–95, L115) supports the reading of the LXXL.79 This discrepancy raises the question of whether the MT/LXX or the LXXL/OL text is original. If the latter is the case, then the aforementioned theory must be abandoned and an explanation of why the MT/LXX altered the text and inserted the mitigation is needed. On the other hand, if the MT/LXX is original,80 we must explain why the LXXL/OL text changed Hoshea into the worst king in the history of the Kingdom of Israel. At first glance, it seems more logical to judge Hoshea, during whose reign the Northern Kingdom of Israel was conquered, as the worst king since he was responsible for the fall of the kingdom as described in the LXXL/OL. Pablo Torijano Morales identifies this reading as original because the expression ‫רק לא כ‬ appears elsewhere only twice (2 Kgs 3:2; 14:3), whereas the phrase ‫ מכל אשר‬appears seven times (1 Kgs 14:9, 22; 16:25, 30, 33; 2 Kgs 17:2; 21:9, 11).81 Nevertheless, one may doubt the originality of this version, declaring Hoshea the worst king ever in Israel, for the following three reasons. First, vv. 7–23 describe the sin of the people of Israel to whom the fall of the kingdom is ascribed, and the worship of two calves (v. 16) and “the sin of Jeroboam” (v. 22) are both attributed to the people and not to Hoshea. Therefore, Hoshea appears to be exonerated from the catastrophe of losing his kingdom. Second, as the last monarch of his kingdom, Zedekiah of Judah, unlike Hoshea in the LXXL/ OL, is not described as having done evil “beyond all that were before him” but only evil comparable to his predecessor.82 If Zedekiah, the last king of Judah, is not described as the wickedest king in that land, what, in terms of theology or ideology, would require judging Hoshea as the worst king in the history of the Northern Kingdom? Third, the sin of Jeroboam I is cited as responsible for the fall of the Northern Kingdom (1 Kgs 14:15–16 in the MT). Thus, it seems unreasonable to impute heavy responsibility to Hoshea, the details of whose sin are not presented in any depth. On the opposite side of the coin, however, these issues could have been exactly the reasons why the later redactor qualified Hoshea’s evaluation. With regard to the first point, the lack of reference to “the sin of Jeroboam” in Hoshea’s evaluation does not necessarily mean that Hoshea is exempted from it. If he is exonerated from “the sin of Jeroboam,” the removal of the golden calves should have been expressly mentioned. The possibility should also be entertained that this 78 The

same sentence is found in 1 Kgs 14:9; 16:25, 30, 33.

79 Cf. Josephus, A. J., Book IX, ch. 13, 1, describing Hoshea as wicked without any attenuation.

80 Thenius 1873, 379; Stade and Schwally 1904, 208; Burney 1903, 329; Šanda 1912, 217; Gehman and Montgomery 1951, 464–65; Cogan and Tadmor 1988, 196. 81 Torijano 2012, 199, 201–02. 82 “He [Zedekiah] did what was evil in the sight of YHWH, just as Jehoiakim had done. Indeed, Jerusalem and Judah so angered YHWH that he expelled them from his presence” (2 Kgs 24:19–20).

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 49

schematic part was omitted by the same redactor who attenuated Hoshea’s evaluation. As for the second and third points, the negative evaluation of Hoshea is not directly associated with the fall of the Northern Kingdom. As mentioned above, the fall of the kingdom is ascribed to Jeroboam I, the founder of the kingdom (1 Kgs 14:15–16) and also to the people, as is evident in vv. 7–22. In the case of Judah, it is similarly expressed that the fall is due to the sins of the people and of Manasseh (2 Kgs 21:10–15; 22:16–17; 23:26–27; 24:3–4). Thus, the fall of the kingdom is not ascribed directly to the last king alone, either Zedekiah in Judah or Hoshea in Israel. The later redactor, who was responsible for Joram’s evaluation in 2 Kings 3:2, wished to mitigate Hoshea’s responsibility for the fall of the kingdom because of his historiographical, theological or ideological ideas about responsibility for a catastrophe (see B.3). One may wonder, then, why no reason for the mitigation is specified. Indeed, the redactor provides the reason for the earlier mitigation, namely, Joram’s petit cult reform in 2 Kings 3:2. Yet, unlike Joram’s case, in which the redactor could refer to the pillars of Baal (derived from the information given in the story of Jehu’s eradication of the Baal cult), he could not find anything positive that Hoshea might have done before the fall, as all the inappropriate cultic activities are expressly enumerated in vv. 7–22. If Hoshea had removed something from them, as Joram did, the validity of the description in vv. 7–22 would have been diminished; rather, it must be assumed that the people’s sinful cultic activities continued without repentance until the kingdom’s final collapse.83 As discussed above (B.5), the positive cultic activities of Amaziah are not recorded despite the positive qualification of the evaluation of this monarch. Therefore, the lack of any description of Hoshea’s concrete activities should not be so surprising. The fact that the phrase ‫ רק לא כ‬is used only in 2 Kings 3:2 and 14:3 and here corroborates the claim that 2 Kings 17:2 has the same author. By mitigating the evaluation of the last monarch of a dynasty or kingdom, this redactor attempted to show that the catastrophe of a dynasty does not depend solely on the faults of the last king, but also on those of his predecessors and of the people.84

6. Conclusion The qualification of evaluations of the kings of Israel and Judah should be examined based not only on the deeds of each king narrated in the subsequent text, but also within the framework of the entire historiography in the books of 83 Zevit

1985, 63. 1980, 86. According to Hoffmann, the Deuteronomist has no concrete source for the mitigation in either case. For an alternative text-critical view on 2 Kings 17:2, see Tekoniemi 2018, 213–18. 84 Hoffmann

50

Shuichi Hasegawa

Kings. Textual variants must also be taken into consideration in order to examine the authorship and historicity of the qualifications and the text that follows concerning the kings’ cultic activities. This systematic approach has demonstrated the purposes of inserting such qualifications: either (1) to attenuate a preceding evaluation, (2) to provide an explanation of a subsequent description, or (3) both of the above. In indirect qualification A.3, which is an example of case (1), the qualification may have been part of the original evaluation by the author who evaluated these kings. In (A.1, 2), (A') and direct qualification (B), which are instances of cases (2) and (3), the author could be identified as a late redactor or redactors using a common technique to interpolate qualifications. We cannot automatically ascribe the clause beginning with ‫אך‬/‫ רק‬in the qualification of an evaluation of a king to late redactors, but its function in the context may enable us to determine, except for (A.3), its secondary character. In the cases of Joram and Hoshea, the redactor attenuated the negative evaluation of these kings in order to diminish their responsibility for the fall of their dynasties or kingdom that took place during their reigns. One possible motivation for this insertion is to convey a message to the readers that catastrophes are not the result of only the last monarch’s apostate cultic activities but also of the sins of earlier kings and the people. This practice may also reflect an attempt to unravel the enigmatic death of Josiah, who conducted a thorough cult reform but died an unnatural death. When adding a qualification to the evaluation of Joram, the redactor collected information on the cult object from earlier and later history or stories (specifically, from the descriptions of the reigns of Ahab and Jehu) to describe Joram’s likely petit cult reform. A trace of similar efforts can also be found in the description of the Asherah in the time of Jehoahaz. The redactor also coined phrases by reversing the ones used in the evaluation of the immediate predecessors (in the cases of Asa and Joram). The latter technique also contributes to adding of color to the history of a dynasty. This article has investigated the historicity of the events described in the passages following the qualifications of evaluations. Both the mention of the Asherah in Samaria during Jehoahaz’s reign and Joram’s removal of the pillars of Baal are not based on any historical sources but are compositions by a late redactor or redactors.85 The lack of reference to “the sin of Jeroboam” in the evaluation of Hoshea cannot be a basis for assuming that his reign saw the removal of calves or any other cult reform. It seems that the qualifications of evaluations of the kings of Israel and Judah are not based on any historical sources and thus they must be excluded from the materials used to reconstruct the history of the two kingdoms. 85 This

statement does not intend to imply that no Asherah actually stood in Samaria.

The Qualification of Evaluations of the Kings of Israel and Judah in the Books of Kings 51

As a by-product, this research has pointed out that some of the information included in the evaluations of the kings of Israel and Judah may be derived from an archival source, or at least from a prior text on which the late redactor relied when composing the qualifications. Ahab’s building of an Asherah in 1 Kings 16:33 and Asa’s votive gift to the temple in 1 Kings 15:15 are probably instances of the former practice and Jehu’s removal of the pillars of Baal narrated in 2 Kings 10:26–27 is an example of the latter. By using qualifications, the late redactors attempted to demonstrate the causeand-effect link in the history of the two kingdoms, wanting the readers to learn moral lessons from the history narrated as their common past. To compose persuasive and coherent qualifications, the redactors comprehensively surveyed the books of Kings and meticulously collected information, which makes it difficult for modern scholars to locate traces of their excellent work. What motivated the redactors to conduct such painstaking work must have been the nature of their devotion to the text, according to which the distinction between story and history, which is a modern concept, would have had little meaning.

Biblical Historiography and History: The Books of Kings1 Thomas Römer 1. Biblical Historiography: the So-called Deuteronomistic History When one begins to read the Hebrew Bible, one first reads a coherent narrative starting with the book of Genesis and ending with the last chapter of the books of Kings. This is a long history ranging from the creation of the world and of man to the destruction of Jerusalem and the deportation of the Judeans to Baby­lon, going through the history of the Ancestors of Israel, the origins of the people in Egypt and their exodus under the leadership of Moses, their mediator and legislator. The narrative continues with the conquest of the land of Canaan, the story of the installation of the monarchy and the two kingdoms of Israel and Judah until the end of Israel and Judah. It is only when we reach the book of Isaiah that we see a rupture. In Isaiah 1:1 the chronological progression is abandoned: we are back to the period of the two kingdoms. The literary genre also changes: instead of a narrative, one now finds prophetic oracles. Consequently, it is possible to consider the books of Genesis to Kings as a literary unit, which is organized according to a progressive chronology that binds together the books from Genesis to Kings as an “Enneateuch.”2 However, if we consider the three part-canon of the Hebrew Bible, the first main break takes place in Deut 34. This chapter relates Moses’ death and concludes the Torah. However, at the narrative level, the end of the Torah is not really a conclusion, since the promise of the land that constitutes the leitmotif of the Pentateuch is not fulfilled. The final chapter of the Pentateuch indicates that the narrative has not come to its end, since Deut 34:9 mentions Moses’ successor, thus indicating a continuation in the book of Joshua, where the Israelites will actually take possession of the land. It is therefore logical to regard Joshua as the necessary conclusion of the narrative of the first five books of the Bible and to support the concept of a Hexateuch. The idea of a Hexateuch is probably not a modern one, but was already the idea of the redactors who added the second 1 Parts

of this article are published in a slightly different form in Römer 2016, 375–87. 2000, 513–26.

2 Gosse

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farewell speech of Joshua in chapter 24. For that reason one may consider that there was indeed a competition between two parties in the middle of the Persian period about the extent of the Torah, a competition that was finally won by the Pentateuchal faction.3 Inside the Pentateuch, there is a break between the first four books and Deuteronomy, which contains a new introduction conceived to mark the beginning of another literary unit. In several passages of this “testament of Moses” the author refers to the conquest of the land, to the disobedience of the people vis-à-vis YHWH, their god, to the history of kingship and to the forthcoming disaster: the deportation and dispersion of the addressees among other nations (Deut 28). Similarly, the baroque and repetitive style, vocabulary and syntax that support the conditional proposals and the exhortations are also found in the books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings. Because of these similarities, Martin Noth had postulated the existence of a Deuteronomistic (Dtr) history or historiography (in German “deuteronomistisches Geschichtswerk”) that would have been written after the destruction of Jerusalem around 560 with the purpose of providing an etiology of the destruction of Jerusalem and the exile of the Judeans.4 The reason given in the “Deuteronomistic History”5 is the inability of the people and above all of most of these kings to comply with the laws stated in Deuteronomy. These different literary compositions, Pentateuch, Hexateuch, Enneateuch and Deuteronomistic History, each construct a story in its own way. For the Pentateuch and the Hexateuch, this history is a mythical history, as it has been recognized since Spinoza6 and de Wette7 who have shown that these compositions provide little information to the historian. The Pentateuch presents itself as a sort of biography of Moses (the books of Exodus and Deuteronomy are framed by his birth and death) and attaches all the laws to some mythical origins, in the desert, in a no man’s land to signify that the rites and prescriptions that are the basis of Judaism depend neither on political autonomy nor on the possession of a land. Unlike the Pentateuch, which ends with the death of Moses outside the land, the literary logic of the Hexateuch focuses on the necessity of possessing the land, for it ends with the book of Joshua and the conquest of the land. But this construction is also mythological because there is no doubt that the conquest recorded in this book does not reflect historical reality but is an ideological

3 Fore

more details see Römer and Brettler 2000, 401–19. 1943. English translation: idem 1991. 5 This theory has been modified and challenged. For an overview about the current state of discussion, see Römer 2015a, 43–66. 6 Spinoza 1951. 7 De Wette 1807. 4 Noth

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construction inspired by literary and iconographic conventions borrowed from the Assyrians and the Babylonians.8 How should one qualify the presentation of Israel’s history in the so-called “Deuteronomistic History”9? The use of the term “historiography” to describe this composition suggests in fact that its author (or rather its authors) wanted to be a historian (or historians). The Deuteronomists of the Babylonian or Persian periods, descendants of the scribes and other officials of the Judean court, were obsessed with the end of the monarchy and the deportation of the elites of Judah. They therefore sought to explain the end of the state of Judah and to do this they built a story from the beginnings under Moses to the destruction of Jerusalem and the deportation of the aristocracy (Deut 1–2 Kgs 25). They construct a coherent history, which they divide into periods (Moses, conquest, Judges, the advent of the monarchy, the two kingdoms, the history of Judah from the fall of Samaria to that of Jerusalem) and present all the negative events that occur in this history – the division of the Davidic dynasty or the Assyrian and Babylonian invasions – as “logical” consequences of the disobedience of the people and their leaders towards YHWH’s will. YHWH himself provoked the Babylonian invasion (2 Kgs 24:3 and 20) to punish Judah for the worship of other deities. There are in Antiquity other examples of a link between a crisis situation and historiography. Thucidydes wrote the History of the Peloponnesian War in the 5th century bce, for those “who desire an exact knowledge of the past to help them to interpret the future” (1.22). In the same way Herodotus composed his Inquiry in order to give the reasons for the Persian wars (cf. the introduction of Book I). In the 3rd century bce, the Babylonian priest Berossus wrote down a historical account of the Babylonian civilization in response to the cultural crisis induced by the spread of Hellenism.10 To characterize the Deuteronomistic History as historiography is questionable but, after all, it is a question of definition: it is not about historiography or history in the Greek sense (the biblical author does not speak in the first person and does not “investigate”) nor in the modern sense as Ranke notes (“how did it actually happen?”).11 Marc Brettler is right to point out that “no concept of history as dependent on historicity applies profitably to the biblical corpus.”12 The aim of the Deuteronomistic historiography is certainly not historicity in a modern sense of the term. It is a very partial history from a “Southern”, Judean  8 Younger  9 In

1990. German, Noth used the term “Geschichtswerk” that can be translated as “historical

work.” 10 For similarities between Berossus and biblical historiography see Gmirkin 2006. 11 Perhaps this famous statement (“wie es eigentlich gewesen”) should rather be translated “as it was essentially,” see Evans 2000, 14. 12 Brettler 1995, 11. See also Knauf 1991, 26–64.

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perspective and equally according to an ideology that is based on cult centralization (with Jerusalem as the “chosen place”) and monolatry (YHWH is the only god to be worshipped).

2. Rewriting the Reigns of “Bad” Kings This means that the Judean redactors of the books of Kings understood Israel, the Northern kingdom, as “deviant” from the very beginning. They also considered several southern kings as “doing the evil in the eyes of YHWH”, especially Manasseh, who is presented in 2 Kings 21 as the main responsible for the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile.13 Manasseh, son of Hezekiah, had a very long reign of 55 years, but we have remarkably few details about it. For the editors of the books of Kings, he is the very model of a bad king who did everything ‘that displeased YHWH’. Historically speaking, his acceptance of Assyrian dominance guaranteed a period of calm and stability for the kingdom of Judah. He probably rebuilt Lachish and put in place a series of fortresses dependent on Jerusalem and it is possible that Assurbanipal restored to him some annexed Judean territory, notably the She­ phelah, as a reward for his loyalty.14 It is even possible that certain of the most remarkable achievements which the Bible attributes to Hezekiah are actually his doing. Ernst Axel Knauf claims that the construction of the tunnel that according to the biblical account was built by Hezekiah would have taken a very long time, so long in fact that it would not have been possible for it to have been initiated and completed during the reign of Hezekiah. Therefore it was probably constructed under Manasseh, who wanted to use it to irrigate a royal garden on the Assyrian model.15 Since the editors of the books of Kings utterly detested Manasseh, it makes perfect sense of them to have attributed these achievements to his successor. This thesis gains increased plausibility if Hezekiah did not in fact begin his reign until 715 bce.16 A similar phenomenon can be observed in Israel with regard to Omri and to Jeroboam II. Omri, who is considered by the Assyrians as the founder of the Northern kingdom and who built Samaria as the capital of Israel, also receives little attention in the books of Kings. Although he ruled twelve years, 1 Kings 16:15–28 only reports his putsch against Zimri and his fortification of Samaria. For the Deuteronomists “Omri did what was evil in the sight of YHWH; he did more evil than all who were before him” (v. 25) perhaps because he also built a 13 This blame on Manasseh may be an insert due to a dtr revision from the Persian period, see Schmid 1997, 87–99. 14 Finkelstein and Na’aman 2004, 60–79 and Fantalkin 2004, 245–61. 15 Knauf 2005, 164–88. 16 For the problem of the beginning of Hezekiah’s reign see Young 2012, 9–32.

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temple in Samaria. We may observe a similar phenomenon in regard to Hezekiah and Manasseh. The redactors of Kings transferred the building activities of Omri to king Solomon, especially if we follow the so-called low chronology of Israel Finkelstein.17 The description of the reign of Jeroboam II, in 2 Kings 14 is again astonishingly short, despite the fact that he ruled for about forty years: In the fifteenth year of King Amaziah son of Joash of Judah, King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel began to reign in Samaria; he reigned forty-one years. 24 He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH; he did not depart from all the sins of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to sin. 25 He restored the border of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah, according to the word of YHWH, the God of Israel, which he spoke by his servant Jonah son of Amittai, the prophet, who was from Gath-hepher. 26 For YHWH saw that the distress of Israel was very bitter; there was no one left, bond or free, and no one to help Israel. 27 But YHWH had not said that he would blot out the name of Israel from under heaven, so he saved them by the hand of Jeroboam son of Joash. 28 Now the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, and all that he did, and his might, how he fought, and how he recovered for Israel Damascus and Hamath, which had belonged to Judah,18 are they not written in the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Israel? 29 Jeroboam slept with his ancestors, the kings of Israel; his son Zechariah succeeded him (2 Kgs 14:23–29).

Forty-one years of rule are summarized in seven verses, although Jerobom’s reign is the longest of the Northern kingdom. His reign is presented tersely and the passage does not give much information about the king’s political and military achievements. The note begins with the statement that Jeroboam did evil in the eyes of YHWH and that he imitated the sins of Jeroboam, his namesake. But the nature of this “evil” is not explained. If we follow the biblical account he did continue the sins of the “first Jeroboam”, which are the cultic activities in Dan and Bethel (see below). On the other hand one may observe a certain embarrassment, especially in v. 26–27 which are often considered to be the work of a later (post-dtr) redactor.19 In this passage the long reign of Jeroboam is justified with the idea that Jeroboam was a tool of YHWH by whom he saved Israel from her enemies. V. 27 apparently contradicts prophetic announcements that YHWH would destroy the North, which may be a critical allusion to the prophecies of Amos,20 although this is not a clear quotation. The expression “mḥh šm”, which is used in v. 27, occurs elsewhere only in Deut 9:14 and 29:19. The latter passage appears 17 Finkelstein

2000, 114–38 and idem 2003, 81–101. idea is strange. It was often argued that this note refers to Iaudi/Sam’al (Zinjirli), as e. g. Würthwein 1984, 375. But the Akkadian references to Iaudi refer to the kingdom of Judah. Therefore, one may speculate whether the original text here was “Israel”, a term which was later changed into Judah by a Iudean glossator, cf. Cogan and Tadmor 1988, 162. 19 Würthwein 1984, 375–76. 20 Crüsemann 1971, 57–63; Hasegawa 2007, 92–102. 18 This

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in the context of curses,21 so that 2 Kings 14:17 can also allude to these texts, claiming that these curses did not (yet) apply to the time of Jeroboam. A similar insertion concerning YHWH’s concern for the North also occurs in 2 Kings 13:23 where Jeoahaz’s victory against the Arameans is also explained with YHWH’s compassion and his covenant with the Patriarchs. This verse is quite clearly another addition, underlining YHWH’s concern for the Northern Kingdom: 22 Now King Hazael of Aram oppressed Israel all the days of Jehoahaz. 23 But YHWH was gracious to them and had compassion on them; he turned toward them, because of his covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and would not destroy them; nor has he banished them from his presence until now.22 24 When King Hazael of Aram died, his son Ben-hadad succeeded him. 25 Then Jehoash son of Jehoahaz took again from Ben-hadad son of Hazael the towns that he had taken from his father Jehoahaz in war. Three times Joash defeated him and recovered the towns of Israel.

V. 23 interrupts the account of the military conflict with the Arameans and presupposes the priestly texts of the Pentateuch, according to which the covenant with the Patriarch is the reason for YHWH’s intervention in favor of the Israelites.23 Those late redactors wanted to emphasize the fact that the military successes of Jehoahaz and Jeroboam were only possible because of YHWH’s help, although they were rulers of the Northern kingdom. Turning back to the notation on Jeroboam II, we see that he is credited with a territorial restoration that recalls the borders of the “United Monarchy” under David and Salomon (for Lebo-Hamath cf. 1 Kgs 8:65). This could mean that Jeroboam is presented here as “achieving the glories of David and Solomon.”24 However, the idea that Lebo-hamath is the Northern boundary of Israel appears mostly in late texts from the Persian period such as Num 13:21; 34:8, Josh 13:5, Ezek 47:20, 48:1; 1Chr 13:5, 2 Chr 7:8. For this reason Volkmar Fritz and other have considered V. 25 to also be a later addition25 since it anticipates the notation in v. 28 which seems to be an older tradition according to which Jeroboam extended the Israelite borders in the North controlling Aramean territories. According to Israel Finkelstein and others this information cannot be taken as historical; it seems quite clear however that Israelite territorial gains in the north are evident:26 Amos 6:13 presupposes that Karnaim became Israelite in the first 21 “All the curses written in this book will descend on them, and YHWH will blot out their names from under heaven.” 22 The expression ‫ עד־עתה‬may refer to the fact that this rejection will only happen in 2 Kings 17 (see especially v. 20; Würthwein 1984, 369), or if this insertion comes from a Persian period redactor, it may even be a claim that Israel/Samaria are finally not definitively abandoned by YHWH. 23 See Römer 1990, 387–88. 24 Cogan and Tadmor 1988, 162. 25 Fritz 2003, 324. 26 Finkelstein 2011b, 227–42.

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half of the 8th century and the domination of Israel over the Upper Jordan valley is shown by 2 Kings 15:29 which describes the campaign of Tiglath-Pileser in this region (732 bce). Archaeology has shown that in the first half of the 8th century bce Israel (probably under Jeroboam II) took over Dan and retook Hazor from Aram. According to Israel Finkelstein: “This was the first time that the 9th century bce Aramaean towns of Dan, Abel-beth-maacah … and Bethsaida shifted hands to the Northern Kingdom”,27 so that under Jeroboam II Israel reached its maximal territorial extension. The deuteronomistic editors of 2 Kings 14:23.28–29 (if we admit that verses 25 and 26–27 are later additions) are astonishingly brief concerning Jeroboam II. They only mention his deed and strength and refer to the annals of the kings of Israel. This extremely short comment about the longest-ruling Israelite king may perhaps be explained by the fact that the Deuteronomists transferred events that happened under Jeroboam II to Jeroboam I. According to 1 Kings 12, Jeroboam built two sanctuaries in Bethel and Dan, in order to compete with the Temple in Jerusalem. However, the mention of Dan in 1 Kings 12 is intriguing. According to Eran Arie, Israel Finkelstein and others, Dan only became part of Israel in the 8th century.28 According to Arie, Dan was destroyed at the end of late Iron I, and was apparently unoccupied during most of Iron IIA. It was later rebuilt by Hazael and was conquered by Israel for the first time around 800 bce or somewhat later. If we follow this reconstruction, the golden calf story in 1 Kings 12 cannot be placed under Jeroboam I. This narrative is a polemical fiction that transfers an event from the time of Jeroboam II to the beginnings of the Northern kingdom. As Angelika Berlejung puts it, 1 Kings 12 does not contain “reliable historical information about the time of Jeroboam I, but reflects historical facts … of the time of Jeroboam II”.29 For these reasons the narrative of 1 Kings 12:26–33 should be considered as a transfer from the time of Jeroboam II to the beginnings of the Northern kingdom. The establishment of Dan and Bethel as “border sanctuaries” would indeed fit well into the time of Jeroboam II. In regard to Bethel, one may quote the confrontation between Amos and Amaziah in Amos 7:10–17. Amaziah chases Amos, who announces Jeroboam’s death in war and Israel’s exile from Bethel by qualifying the place as “the king’s sanctuary and the temple of the kingdom” (‫מקדש־מלך הוא ובית ממלכה הוא‬, v. 13). The rise of Bethel as a state sanctuary can be supported by archaeological investigations. Finkelstein and Singer-Avitz have argued that in the first millennium bce Bethel was settled in an important manner only during the 8th until the beginning of the 7th century and declined during the Babylonian and 27 Finkelstein

2011b, 241. 2008, 6–64; Finkelstein 2011b, 230. 29 Berlejung 2009, 1–42, 24. 28 Arie

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Persian periods.30 If 1 Kings 12 refers to Bethel as a religious center of the North, this fits neither into the 10th century nor satisfactorily into the Babylonian or Persian periods. “1 Kgs 12 re-projects the flourishing Bethel of Jeroboam II into the times of Jeroboam I.”31

3. The Fall of Samaria in 722 bce From the 9th century onward, the influence of the Neo-Assyrian empire grew steadily in the Levant and under the reign of Tiglath-Pileser (745–727) all the kingdoms of Syria and Palestine were de facto under Assyrian domination. This was also the case for Israel, after Jeroboam II’s death although it attempted on several occasions to oppose Assyrian domination. According to 2 Kings 17, King Hosea of Israel sought support from an Egyptian ally named “So, king of Egypt.” The identity of this character is strongly debated (there is no pharaoh of this name: is it the city of Saïs,32 an allusion to Osorkon IV,33 or simply a transcription of the Egyptian word for king [njswt]?34). The idea of soliciting help from Egypt seems plausible; such attempts are, moreover, criticized in the book of Hosea. In 724 begins the siege of Samaria, which lasts about 3 years until the fall of the city in 722. This event is reported in the Hebrew Bible and in the Assyrian and Babylonian annals. According to the Annals of Sargon II, it was Sargon who captured the city, whereas according to the Hebrew Bible and the Babylonian Chronicles, the capture was the work of Salmanassar V. Given the difficulties that Sargon had encountered to seize power, it seems plausible that he attributed the capture of Samaria to himself for ideological reasons. Here, the Bible is apparently right:35 the city was probably taken under Shalmaneser V, whereas Sargon then set up the administrative structure of Israel and incorporated it into the system of the Assyrian provinces, deporting a portion of the inhabitants of Samaria and reorganizing the city: … With the power of the great gods … against them I fought. 27,280 people together with their chariots, and the gods in whom they trusted, as spoil I counted. With 200 chariots for [my] royal force from them I formed a unit. The rest of them I settled in the midst of Assyria. I repopulated Samerina more than before. People from countries, conquered by my hands, I brought in it. My commissioner I appointed as Governor over them. I counted them as Assyrians.36 30 Finkelstein

and Singer-Avitz 2009, 33–48. 2009, 23. 32 Galpaz-Feller 2000, 338–47. 33 Accordingly Schipper 1998, 71–84 and Kang 2010, 241–48. 34 Thus among others Würthwein 1984, 392, n. 2. 35 Macchi 1994, 88–91. 36 Translation of the Nimrud Prism after Hallo 1997, 295–96. 31 Berlejung

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The biblical indications concerning deportation and mixing of populations is broadly confirmed by Neo-Assyrian documents and iconography. After the deuteronomistic presentation of the fall of Samaria in 2 Kings 17, the authors or redactors of Kings are totally silent concerning what was going on in the former kingdom of Samaria after 722 bce. The only thing later redactors of 2 Kings 1737 acknowledge is the fact that the cult of YHWH continued, although they describe this cult as a syncretist one by telling a strange story about an invasion of lions sent by YHWH in order to reestablish his cult in Bethel. Although the author of this text can barely hide his negative attitude toward the sanctuary at Bethel, it is probable that this sanctuary continued to play some role even after the events of 722. The author of this episode in 2 Kings 17:24–28 clearly intends to put into relief the power of YHWH who kept watching over the continuity of his own cult. Some have thought that the invasion by lions was an actual historical event.38 However this motif could just as well and even more easily be explained as an invention. In any case the author of this passage admits that the cult of YHWH continues in Samaria, despite the importation of other deities, most of whom are difficult to identify.39

4. Josiah’s Reform Contrary to the fall of Samaria, which allows us to compare biblical documentation with texts from the Ancient Near East, the case of Josiah’s reform is more complicated because there is no direct extra-biblical evidence of such an event. The beginning of the reign of Josiah coincides more or less with the decline of the Assyrian empire. Around 627 bce Babylon regains its independence and the Assyrians relax their presence in the Levant, which for a short time returns to Egyptian control. The biblical account of Josiah reign deals almost exclusively with the “reform” (rather, the political, economic and religious changes) that this king would have undertaken. 2 Kings 22–23 narrates the discovery of a scroll during renovation works in the Temple of Jerusalem in the eighteenth year of the reign of Josiah. This discovery by the priest Hilkiah and the reading of the scroll to the king by the high official Shaphan provokes a very strong reaction. Josiah seems seriously affected by the curses contained in the discovered scroll. He sends Hilkiah, Shaphan and other officials to consult the prophetess Huldah on the meaning of the scroll. She confirms the divine judgment that YHWH will exercise against Jerusalem and Judah. Concerning King Josiah, she conveys a more positive message: since he 37 Kartveit

2014, 31–44. instance Gray 1977, 594. 39 For more details see Römer 2015, 173–79. 38 For

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was attentive to the words of the book, he will be buried in peace (2 Kgs 22: 18– 20). After his officials had conveyed the message, Josiah himself read the book to “all the people” and concluded a treaty with YHWH (2 Kgs 23:1–3). Josiah then implements important cultural changes in Jerusalem and Judah. He eliminates the religious symbols and the priests of the divinities Baal and Asherah, as well as the celestial army, implying the abandonment of representations of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. He profanes and destroys the bamôt, open-air sanctuaries (the “high places”) devoted to YHWH, as well as the tophet, apparently a site of human sacrifices. According to 2 Kings 23:15, he even demolishes the altar of Bethel, the former main Yahwistic sanctuary of Israel. The acts of destruction have their positive counterpart in the conclusion of a (new) treaty between YHWH and the people, and in the celebration of a Passover (verses 21–23). The two rites are celebrated by Josiah and presented as prescriptions of the discovered scroll. The book in the Temple is traditionally identified with the book of Deuteronomy, since the acts of Josiah and the centralization ideology of his reform correspond to the prescriptions of the Deuteronomic Law. The story of 2 Kings 22–23 certainly cannot be taken naively as an eyewitness report of the so-called reform. First we have to remember that 2 Kings 22 is constructed as a parallel to king Jehoash’s restoration of the Temple in 2 Kings 12. Interestingly Jehoash is said to have begun his reign at the age of seven, so that one may wonder whether the information that Josiah was eight years when he mounted the throne (23:1) is dependent on 2 Kings 12:1. The topos of the discovery of a book is very common in ancient literature,40 and is generally used to legitimize changes to the religious, economic and political order. Is the whole story of the Josiah’s reform therefore a literary invention?41 It is true that we have no first-hand evidence of the events that are described in 2 Kings 22–23. There are, however, some indications of political and religious changes in Judah at the end of the 7th century bce, that can be used in order to give some plausibility to religious, political and economic changes under the reign of Josiah.42 According to 2 Kings 23, Josiah eliminates many elements relating to an astral cult, an important aspect of the Neo-Assyrian religious ideology. The reference to the horses and chariots of Shamash, the God of the Sun (23:11) is historically plausible for the Assyrian period. Such cult objects related to the cult of Shamash were very popular in Neo-Assyrian times as indicated by many iconographic representations of horses and horsemen and other horse-related images of the Sun god.43 40 See

especially Diebner and Nauerth 1984, 95–118. for instance Niehr 1995, 33–56. 42 For the following see also Uehlinger 2005, 279–316. 43 Schroer 1987, 282–300. 41 Thus

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A comparable element is the destruction of an altar situated on a terrace in 2 Kings 23:12. This verse may allude to a cult on the roofs of Jerusalem devoted to the army of Heaven. Ahaz was a vassal of the king of Assyria and it is possible that he erected a place of worship on a terrace to demonstrate his loyalty to the Assyrians (2 Kgs 16).44 Isaiah 38:8 also alludes to a staircase of Ahaz. Jere­miah 19:3 also mentions this worship in private houses, all of which had terraces: “all the houses upon whose roofs offerings have been made to the whole host of heaven and libations have been poured out to other gods.” The attempt to eradicate these practices can therefore very well be understood in the context of the decline of the Assyrian empire. A supplementary argument in favor of the plausible dimension of a political and religious reform lies in the comparison which can be made with other reformist kings in the Ancient Near East,45 beginning with Akhenaton (1353– 1337), who also undertook a sort of “centralization of worship” in the new town of Akhenaton decreeing the veneration of a single god. Upon the capture of Babylon in 689, the Assyrian king Sennacherib, destroyed the temples and statues, or deported them. In place of Babylon he wanted to raise “his” city Assur and made the god Assur, who before that moment had no important role outside the capital, the most important deity. The creation epic Enuma Elish is rewritten in order to replace Marduk by Assur, who becomes the “god of heaven and earth.” However, his successor, Esarhaddon, who was crowned king of Babylon, restored the worship of Marduk and other Babylonian divinities. Nabonidus (556–539) came to power following a putsch. He was a pious follower of the lunar god Sin and wanted him to be the only god people would worship. His long stay at Teima (553–544) remains mysterious.46 Did he want to create a new capital for Sin in Teima? On his return he reinforced lunar worship, restoring many temples. All these reforms which aim at elevating a divinity to the rank of principal deity originate in the initiative of a king. The fact that the reform of Josiah did not last is quite comparable with what can be seen in the cases we have just mentioned. In summary, the biblical presentation of Josiah and his reign cannot be understood as historical.47 Yet some indications suggest that there were attempts to introduce cultural and political changes under Josiah.

44 For

a discussion on the Assyrian evidence for such roof altars, see Uehlinger 2005, 305. the following see Na’aman 2006b, 131–68. 46 See the discussion in Henze 1999, 60–61. 47 If there was an attempt to introduce religious and political changes under Josiah this attempt was not triggered by the discovery of an old scroll. 45 On

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5. The Exile of Jehoiachin The books of Kings end with a rather laconic notice of the fate of King Jehoiakim, exiled to Babylon: In the thirty-seventh year of the exile of King Jehoiachin of Judah, in the twelfth month, on the twenty-seventh48 day of the month, Evil-merodach49 King of Babylon, in the year that he began to reign, released50 King Jehoiachin of Judah from prison. 28 He spoke kindly to him and gave him a seat above the other seats of the kings who were with him in Babylon. 29 So Jehoiachin put aside51 his prison clothes. Every day of his life he dined regularly in the king’s presence. 30 For his allowance, a regular allowance was given him by52 the king,53 a portion every day, as long as he lived (2 Kgs 25:27).54

This text seems at first to reflect a historical situation, for tablets of the time of Nebuchadnezzar II (595–570) mention deliveries of oil, barley and sometimes dates and spices for the Palace of Babylon and for royal and other prisoners who were kept there. In one of the texts55 we find: “A Sutu to [Ya]’ukînu, king of the country of Yahudu. Two qû and half to the fi[ve sons] of the king of the country of Yahudu.”

Another text mentions: “A Sutu to Yakukînu, son of the king Yakudu, two qû and half to the five sons of the king of Yakudu.”

In this variant, Jehoiachin does not appear as king, but as his son. Is this an allusion to the fact that the Babylonians considered Jehoiachin’s uncle, Zedekiah, as the only legitimate king? But since the other references present him as king, it could also be a scribal error.56 The fact that the king (with different variants 48 There are differences about the exact day: Jer 52:31 has the 25th and JerLXX the 24th day, another Hebrew manuscript the 28th. The number 24 can easily be understood as a symbolic number, as can “27” (both appear in references of the canonical books of the Hebrew Bible). 49 The Masoretic vocalization is an intentional and pejorative corruption of the name “Awel-Marduk.” 50 Jeremiah 52:31 and other manuscripts of 2  Kings contain the precision: “He brought him forth”; this is probably a lectio facilior. 51 The change of the wayyiqtol into w-qatal is explained by the fact that this form often replaces the narrative in recent prose texts or, and this is the option we retain, because w-qatal introduces an anterior action to that previously expressed (the more-than-perfect, cf. Joüon 1923, 322). 52 LXX reads “from the king’s house”; this variant does not change the meaning. 53 The Syriac manuscripts and Jeremiah 52:34 contain the precision “King of Babylon.” This precision does not change the meaning of the verse. 54 Jer 52:34LXX ends with “until the day of his death” (while JerMT adds also “all the days of his life”). This lesson, as we shall see, is secondary. It tries, among other things, to avoid the doublet that exists in the last words of v. 29 and 30. 55 The English translation of these texts is based on the German translation of Weippert 2010, 423–30. 56 For a discussion see Briend and Seux 1977, 145–46.

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as to his name) is so frequently mentioned could underline his important status in the palace of Babylon, which is also reflected in 2 Kings 25. Contrary to 2 Kings 25, the Babylonian texts speak of the sons of the king, as does the book of Chronicles. The last verses of the Kings are therefore based on a historical memory. But the author of these verses transforms this memory into an episode that reflects his ideological position. The author of 2 Kings 25:27–30 knew that kings and notables exiled to Babylon benefited from allowances from the King of Babylon, but he gave this practice a new meaning by situating it under a king whose reign inaugurates the end of the Babylonian empire.57 The change in the status of the king in exile described in 2 Kings 25 uses the literary conventions of the so-called “Diaspora novels”: the stories of Esther and Mordecai, of Joseph (Gen 37–45) and the narratives contained in the first part of the book of Daniel (Dan 2–6). In all these stories, an exile leaves his prison and becomes in a sense second to the king (2 Kgs 25:28, Esth 10:3; Gen 41:40; Dan 2:48), his accession to this new status being marked by a change of clothing (2 Kgs 25:29; Esth 6:10–11; 8:15; Gen 41:42; Dan 5:29). All these narratives insist on the idea that the country of deportation has become a place where Jews can live and even have interesting careers. In the last verses of Kings, Exile has become a diaspora. Thus the fate of the last king of Judah can be understood as an invitation made to the Judeans of Babylon to accept life in a diaspora situation and it is elsewhere known that many Judeans integrated themselves very well into their new homeland. In summary, our investigation of the books of Kings demonstrates that the construction of a biblical historiography obeys the ideological preoccupations of Judean scribes of the 7th to the 5th centuries. Nevertheless, these scribes do not totally invent their materials; they draw them from earlier memoirs, archives and documents, and give them a new meaning. Thus, the biblical account, although integrating historical memories, is a theological construction.

57 Awel-Marduk was very quickly dethroned, and thereafter palace revolutions multiplied until the advent of Nabonidus, cf. for example Albertz 2001, 58–65.

Josiah’s Death in Megiddo A Touchstone Case of Historiography Jin H. Han 1. Introduction Both the Deuteronomistic Historian and the Chronicler depict the year 609 bce as the terminus of the prosperous era of Josiah. The nation never again experiences such vigor as his reign inaugurates. The events of Megiddo plunge Judah into a precipitous downturn terminating in the fall of Jerusalem. Historically, Judah never returns as a nation. Josiah’s legacy looms especially large behind the corpus of the Deuteronomistic History. He initiates a religious program of cleansing and centralization of the cult based on a law book that turns up in the course of the repair of the temple, and his conquest is geared toward the evangelistic dissemination of the measures taken to reform the land. The vision of a new world that erupts under Josiah has been palpably put forth in the biblical corpus. The Deuteronomistic Historian rates Josiah as the king par excellence, although the encomium that “before him there was no king like him” (2 Kgs 23:25a) is partly rhetorical in that a comparable accolade is also given to Hezekiah in 18:5. Josiah alone receives the unusual triple praise (“with all his heart, with all his soul and with all his might”; 23:25b), which echoes Deut 6:4–5, the only other instance of the triplet in the Hebrew Bible. Like David, Josiah is righteous in God’s eyes (2 Kgs 22:2). Furthermore, given the formative role of Josiah’s work for the Deuteronomistic History, one may well find Josiah’s persona serving as yardstick that assesses the reigns of all kings, including David. In 1–2 Kings the few monarchs receiving a favorable report do what Josiah would have done. Most kings – in fact, all northern kings of Israel – are found wanting in comparison to what Josiah has exemplified. The steep downturn of history that Judah takes after Josiah’s death illustrates, albeit indirectly, what Judah would have been like without Josiah. The clarity of the impact of Josiah’s death, however, sets in high relief the nebula of history that enshrouds what transpired in the last days of his reign, especially as Josiah went to Megiddo in 609 bce. What prompted him to go to Megiddo at such high risk? What objective did he set out to accomplish in

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coming in contact with Pharaoh Necho II? What was the Egyptian king doing in Megiddo? Did the Pharaoh march north to help the Assyrian empire, as he claimed? Did it matter to him that Assyria had practically ceased to exist? Or did he have another objective in crossing the border of Judah, for example, to assert his hegemony over Syria and the surrounding areas in the post-Assyrian era? Under whose control was Megiddo at the time, under Judah’s or Egypt’s? What took place in Megiddo between the two kings when they met? What does lqr’tw mean in 2 Kings 23:29? Does the prepositional phrase refer to a clash or a diplomatic meeting? What did the two kings envision to do after their encounter in this famously strategic location? The year 609 evokes a myriad of historical questions, not all of which have been or perhaps can be answered. While uncertainties surround the event that cost Josiah his life, their concurrence may ironically serve as a sharp break, allowing historians to reflect upon what took place before as well as on what transpired in Megiddo and thereafter. Historiographical deliberations invite interpreters to come to terms with the haze of history, even if they do not manage to come out of it.

2. Josiah before Megiddo The project of delving into the events of Megiddo in 609 calls for an examination of the years that precede them. This approach follows the prevailing practice of historians who organize the subject matter of their investigation by postulating discrete periods while risking the charge of setting up arbitrary boundary markers in time. However, periodization is both necessary and unavoidable, for no finite human being is equipped to process a long, undifferentiated timespan. Moreover, the juxtaposition of periods provides historians with a useful framework for postulating continuity and discontinuity between one period and the next. The Deuteronomistic Historian, too, also displays a keen interest in the framework of continuity found meticulously traversing the days of judges and kings. Even a quite disjunctive event like Josiah’s death facilitates a reflection on continuity, and the Deuteronomistic Historian blames Manasseh for the fatal outcome of Megiddo (2 Kgs 23:26–27). The idea that the fate of the nation was already poisoned by Manasseh, who reigned half a century earlier, may sound like a feeble attempt by a religious historian to explain away the tragic death of Josiah, the pious king. However, the idea of Manasseh’s provocation rests on the notion that adequate comprehension of the course of affairs in history does not arise within the confines of the immediate context of history. The Deuteronomistic Historian applies the same logic to the division of the kingdom, blaming Solomon, not Rehoboam (1 Kgs 11:9–13). In a comparable way, he attributes the

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fall of the Northern Kingdom to the sins of Jeroboam I (1 Kgs 13:34 passim). A comparable case of Deuteronomistic delay also appears in Elijah’s pronouncement of Ahab’s punishment in 21:29. The demonization of Manasseh in 2 Kings 23 has another curious effect of downplaying the factor that attracts historians’ attention: the role played by other nations, like Egypt, Assyria and Babylon, in the last centuries of Judah. Except for times of internal struggle such as the Third Intermediate Period (ca. 1070–650 bce), Egypt appeared as a constant player in the configuration of powers in the region, sometimes as an overlord and sometimes as an ally. Other than Herodotus’s oblique mention of Psammetichus I’s expedition to Azodus (Ashdod),1 Josiah’s engagement with Egypt prior to 609 remains unknown. Elsewhere, Herodotus refers to a battle between Syrians and Necho at Magdolus (Migdal).2 However, Graham I. Davies and most scholars believe that this is “more likely to be a battle on the outskirts of Egypt” and does not refer to the battle of Megiddo in 609.3 Assyria had an even more visible presence than Egypt in the affairs of Judah in the 8th and 7th centuries when it emerged as the imperial superpower in the region. In response to Rezin of Syria and Pekah of Israel making a pact and threatening Judah in the days of Ahaz, Isaiah 7:2 graphically depicts the gripping terror of the Syro-Ephraimite War (“When the house of David heard that Aram had allied itself with Ephraim, the heart of Ahaz and the heart of his people shook as the trees of the forest shake before the wind”). Ahaz then makes a fateful decision to send a distress call to Assyria. Tiglath-Pileser III, who would likely invade sooner or later, now has an invitation to do so. Assyria swooped down to devastate Syria and Israel, leaving Judah as a client kingdom in the orbit of the Assyrian Empire. The subsequent Judean history is interspersed with evidence of a complex political relationship with Assyria. Hezekiah famously defies Assyria, and Sennacherib can only boast of his western campaign: As to Hezekiah, the Jew, he did not submit to my yoke, I laid siege to 46 of his strong cities, walled forts, and to the countless small villages in their vicinity, and conquered (them) by means of well-stamped (earth‑)ramps, and battering-rams brought (thus) near (to the walls) (combined with) the attack by foot soldiers, (using) mines, breeches as well as sapper work. I drove out (of them) 200,150 people, young and old, male and female, horses, mules, donkeys, camels, big and small cattle beyond counting, and considered (them) booty. Himself I made a prisoner in Jerusalem, his royal residence, like a bird in a cage.4

The inscription is clearly propagandistic, inviting even a possibility that “there never was a siege of Jerusalem – all Sennacherib’s verbiage implies no more than 1 Histories

2.157. 2.159.2. 3 Davies 1986, 105. 4 Pritchard 1969, 288 (italics added). 2 Histories

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that he had picketed the, or some, gates of Jerusalem with one or more cavalry troops.”5 The memory of the event in the Hebrew Bible, including 2 Kings 18– 19; 2 Chronicles 32; Isaiah 36–37, suggests that it must have been more than a negligible military action, although many of the biblical accounts of the event seem to overlap with one another. Judah’s posture changed with Manasseh, who turns pro-Assyrian, a policy that continued in Amon’s brief reign. When Amon is assassinated, ‘am hā-’āreṣ (“the people of the land”) intervened to preserve the Davidic dynastic line. Although some suspect the servants of Amon staging the botched coup of anti-Assyrian views,6 their political posture is unknown. By contrast, “the people of the land” conformed with Josiah’s anti-Assyrian policies.7 Josiah’s relationship with Babylon remains opaque due to the lack of any historical evidence. The potentially relevant episode in 2 Kings 20 may shed light on the question, reporting the visit of an envoy from Babylon in the days of Hezekiah (20:12–19; cf. the much less detailed account of the visit in 2 Chr 32:31). The Judean king apparently gave them a favorable audience and divulged to them virtually everything (“there is nothing in my storehouses that I did not show them,” 2 Kgs 20:15). Apart from Isaiah’s prophetic reproach for the king’s naïveté about the future threat from Babylon (vv. 16–18), Hezekiah’s aforementioned struggle against Assyria as well as his welcoming reception of the Babylonian emissary create the impression that friends and foes could have perceived Judah as a Babylonian ally. Although the Babylonian Chronicle makes no reference to Josiah, Josiah’s anti-Assyrian platform could easily be construed as pro-Babylonian and anti-Egyptian. One scholar goes so far as to advance the view that “in the new power situation in the Near East the Judean King Josiah became an ally of Babylonia in its fight against the old tormenters from Assyria.”8 Even if Josiah is not a declared ally of Babylon, and “although there is no clear evidence that Josiah was allied with Babylon, his death at Megiddo, which delayed the northward march of the Egyptians to support the Assyrians in their last stand against the Babylonians at Haran, clearly served Babylon’s interests.”9 One may thus wonder whether Josiah is de facto on Babylon’s side or whether Judah and Babylon became allies in the manner of esse quam videri (“to be rather than to seem to be”). Josiah’s involvement in Megiddo is inextricably related to the complex international struggle of powerful nations. At this point, the internecine fighting along with the struggle with Babylon leaves Assyria weakened, and Ashurbanipal dies in 627. Babylon is only at the regrouping stage, and the Egyptian 26th 5 Knauf

2003, 145. 1953, 26–29. 7 Contra Ishida 1977, 164, n. 44. 8 Smoláriková 2008, 31. 9 Sweeney 2001, 214. 6 Malamat

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Dynasty is still recovering from the Third Intermediate Period. With no serious opposing force in the international realm, Josiah takes his program of reform to Samaria (2 Kgs 23:19; contra 2 Chr 34:6–7), and a Hebrew ostracon from Yavneh-yam (Meṣad Ḥashavyahu) “has been thought to show that Josiah also controlled part of the coastal plain.”10 By the end of the 7th century, however, the geopolitics have changed. Egypt has emerged from the shadow of an intermediate period. The Saite Dynasty brings Egypt back into the vortex of international conflict, and Necho marches north, riding the tide of the rise of the dynasty. Necho’s appearance takes Josiah into the fray. As Nils Peter Lemche points out, “Judah had become involved in the struggle to take up the Assyrian inheritance, a battle in which the main agents were the Egyptians on one side and the Babylonians on the other, and which ended with Babylonian victory.”11 In 609 Necho emerges from Megiddo as the victor, but his northerly march proves to be fatal to his imperial dream. Nebuchadnezzar’s army defeats him in 605. Egypt lost the war at Carchemish, but Josiah did not live to see it. With the changing configuration of superpowers, there is no telling whether Josiah could have anticipated what would happen at Megiddo. Huldah’s unfulfilled prophecy of his anticipated peaceful death (2 Kgs 22:14–20) confirms the uncertain future that accompanied Josiah to Megiddo. The shifting sands of international politics left him with little choice but to become involved. The anti-Assyrian orientation that brought him to power and sustained him in his reform would also have given him even fewer options. The biblical literature retains the picture in which Josiah takes the initiative to go to Megiddo, but historians are left with compounding uncertainties, for the event apparently takes its course during an uncertain time in its world.

3. What Happened at Megiddo? When turning to the events of Megiddo in 609 bce, the ambiguity only intensifies. The account in 2 Kings 23, presumably closer to the event than other sources, relates the events “in laconic, almost telegraphic terms.”12 According to the Deuteronomistic Historian, the stated purpose of the Egyptian northward march concerns going up to Assyria, apparently to lend assistance to their old ally (v. 29a). By 609, however, Assyria is all but gone. Nineveh had fallen in 612. After the fall of Nineveh, the remnant of the empire engaged in a faint death-throe struggle led by Asshur-uballiṭ II. In 609, “a large army from 10 Davies

1986, 105. 2015, 136. 12 Finkelstein and Silberman 2001, 289. 11 Lemche

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Egypt” crossed the Euphrates (The Babylonian Chronicle; ANET 305) to assist Asshur-uballiṭ II in Haran. It was on this path to Mesopotamia that Josiah’s encounter with Necho took place. While 2 Kings 23 offers certain information concerning Necho’s move, the chapter remains somewhat cryptic about Josiah’s objective in coming to Megiddo. The Deuteronomistic Historian brusquely states, “Josiah went to meet him; but when Pharaoh Necho met him in Megiddo, he killed him” (v. 29b). The report of the transportation and internment of the royal body and the transition in kingship to Jehoahaz in his stead (v. 30) abruptly and stoically follows the necrology. Some argue that Josiah intended to halt Necho. Even if the aid to Assyria was merely a pretext for the Egyptian march to Carchemish, it could not have sat well with the anti-Assyrian platform that catapulted Josiah, the young king, to the throne. The mysterious nature of the events at Megiddo increases even more because “the political allegiance of Megiddo (and its province) at this time remains obscure; some scholars believe that it was in Josiah’s hands, others that it must have been held by the Egyptians at least from 616, when they sent a force … to assist the Assyrians in their struggle for survival against the Babylonians and the Medes.”13 If Megiddo was an Egyptian garrison,14 Josiah’s move would have been extremely bold. For a military engagement, however, the narrow pass at Megiddo may have represented Josiah’s only chance to stop the Egyptian march. However, 2  Kings does not state clearly that there was anything that one could call a battle: “for he went to meet him” (lqr’tw, v. 29b), Could this possibly mean that Josiah went to join Necho’s effort? It has been proposed “that Necho misinterpreted Josiah’s arrival at the strategic battlefield of Megiddo, thought that he was trying to block his way and, without waiting to ask questions, made a pre-emptive strike against Josiah’s camp.”15 Nadav Na’aman argues that Necho chose to pass through Canaan to demand the renewal of his presumed status as the suzerain, and Josiah’s death results because he “was suspected or accused of disloyalty.”16 Josiah’s arrival at Megiddo might have represented an opportune moment, especially if Josiah’s plan was not clear to Necho. If Josiah did advance as a hostile force, Necho would find it necessary to eliminate Josiah, for he would not want two fronts in a war, one with Babylon and the other potential one with Josiah at his rear. If Josiah did not oppose Necho, eliminating Josiah would further solidify Necho’s claim to the territory under the Judean king. Whatever Josiah may have sought at Megiddo, Necho would not have minded a world without Josiah, 13 Davies

1986, 104. 1975, 125; idem 1973, 274. 15 Davies 1986, 105. 16 Na’aman 2005, 381. Na’aman also lists various proposals concerning the circumstances of the execution (381, n. 65). 14 Malamat

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whether Josiah was a loyal vassal or a recalcitrant wildcard. Three months later, Necho returns to depose Jehoahaz, whom “the people of the land” had made king, suggesting that the Egyptian Pharaoh perceived himself as the suzerain over the region. Had he already staked the same claim when marching along the ancient trade route through the land of Canaan? 2 Kings 23:29 may also “suggest a hasty, perhaps unconsidered, response to Josiah’s appearance.”17 The difficulty of assessing the Pharaoh’s action adds another possibility: perhaps Necho was an incompetent ruler behaving inconsistently.18 2 Chronicles 35:21 (as well as 1 Esd 1:26–27) speaks of a warning Pharaoh sends to Josiah, claiming that he is acting in accordance with divine instruction and that Josiah should not stop him. The reference to this missive ironically underscores the possibility that Josiah initiated the battle and Necho found it necessary to seek to dissuade the Judean king. Some commentators suspect that the Chronicler finds fault with Josiah; however, the divine directive is known only through Josiah’s adversary, who uses it to discourage Josiah from challenging him. “[Josiah] did not listen the words of Necho from the mouth of God (mpy ’lhym), but joined battle in the plain of Megiddo” (2 Chr 35:22b). The reference to the divine word (mpy ’lhym) is oblique, for it can only refer back to Necho’s assertion, and one may well put it in quotation marks in modern punctuation, let alone that the referent of ’lhym, a generic Hebrew noun for God or deities, cannot be determined. Josiah’s rampant disregard of God’s direction appears as uncharacteristic of the pious king for 2  Chronicles 34–35 as it does for 2 Kings 22–23. The question of Josiah’s sin appears prominently in the Targum on Lamentations 1:18. The Lord said by his Word to the people of the House of Israel, that those who slay with the sword should not pass through their land. King Josiah went, [and] drew the sword against Pharaoh the Lame in the Valley of Megiddo – something he had not been commanded [to do], nor had he sought instruction from before the Lord. Therefore the archers shot arrows at king Josiah, and he died there. And before his soul departed he moved his lips, and thus said, “The Lord is righteous, for I have transgressed against his Word (memra).”19

It is possible that the targumist derives the Aramaic translation from 2  Chronicles 35:22, which shares with Lamentations 1:18 the occurrence of the Hebrew word ph, which serves as “the textual ‘hook’ to connect the two texts.”20 Few other resemblenses appear between 2  Chronicles 35:22 and Lamentations 1:18. The targumist shows more concern for Leviticus 26:6 than 2  Chronicles 35:22, which would justify Josiah’s action. The translator is at pains to explain the 17 Davies

1986, 105. Myśliwiec 2000, 120. 19 Targum Lamentations 1:18; Alexander 2007, 122. 20 Brady 2003, 341. 18 See

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otherwise inexplicable death of Josiah. In the theological, not historical, discourse, the Targum makes Josiah a representative of the people. Unlike 2 Kings, 2 Chronicles 35:22–23 and 1 Esdras 1:29 present a battle scene that took place in the plain of Megiddo. If this concerns a military confrontation, Josiah did not have the military power to overcome the army of the rising 26th Saite Dynasty. The Babylonian Chronicle refers to the large size of of Necho’s army, and the army of the small kingdom of Judah would not have been comparable to the size of this army on its way to Mesopotamia. It is hard to imagine Josiah had planned to engage the Egyptian force in the open field of the plain of Megiddo, and it may account for the Chronicler’s reference to Josiah disguising himself (2 Chr 35:22a). 2 Chronicles 35:22 alone includes this detail on how Josiah disguised himself, and how archers identify him as a target (2 Chr 35:22–23a). While in 2 Kings 23:30, the king dies in Megiddo, Josiah is mortally wounded and transported to Jerusalem where he dies (2 Chr 35:23b–24; 1 Esd 1:30–31). 2 Chronicles 35:24 describes the king’s second chariot transporting him back to Jerusalem, and 1 Esdras 1:31a also mentions the second chariot, which the king enters by himself. The accounts of 2 Kgs 23:30; 2 Chr 35:24b–25; 1 Esd 1:31b–32 all communicate the idea that it matters that the king is brought to Jerusalem. The latter two add that he “was buried in the tombs of his ancestors,” giving the people along with Jeremiah a chance to mourn the death of the king. Josephus also mentions Necho’s message that he was not coming against him without repeating the question Necho raises with Josiah (“What have I to do with you, king of Judah?” (see 2 Chr 35:21; 1 Esd 1:26). While Josiah’s insistence is construed as opposing God’s will (as reported by Necho in 2 Chr 35:21 and by Jeremiah in 1 Esd 1:28). Josephus states that: So Nechaō sent a herald to him, saying that he was not taking the field against him, but was making for the Euphrates, and he bade Josiah not provoke him into making war on him by preventing him from going where he had made up his mind to go. Josiah, however, paid no attention to Nechaō’s request, but acted as though he would not permit him to traverse his territory; it was Destiny, I believe, that urged him on to this course, in order to have a pretext for destroying him. For, as he was marshalling his force and riding in his chariot from one wing to another, an Egyptian archer shot him and put an end to his eagerness for battle, and, being in great pain from his wound, he ordered the call to be sounded for the army’s retreat, and he returned to Jerusalem.21

Josiah refuses to let Necho pass through his territory. Josephus attributes this to tēs peprōmenēs (“fate” or “destiny”), to retain the connection with “an alternative supernatural power.”22 According to Josephus, Josiah heroically defies it and “Josephus’ version of the royal command accentuates the king’s magnanimity: Ant. 10.75–77 (Thackeray, LCL). 2000, 488.

21 Josephus, 22 Begg

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his first concern is not for himself, wounded and in pain as he is, but for his army.”23 In his report, Josephus depicts Josiah as an ideal commander that he would emulate. In Josephus, the king returns to Jerusalem where “he died from his wound” and “was buried magnificently (megaloprepōs) in the tombs of his fathers” and adds a comment that “Great was the mourning for him observed by all the people, who bewailed him and grieved for many days. And the prophet Jeremiah composed a song of lament for his funeral, which remains to this day.”24 The expansive report of Josephus is in contrast with “a conspiracy of silence” concerning Josiah’s death, and Frost attributes this to the difficulty of explaining the pious king’s death.25 2 Kings seems to pass over the event as quickly as possible. Subsequent prophets seem to be silent about this subject altogether. Frost concludes that there is “a general conspiracy on the subject of the death of Josiah, because, given the OT premises, no one could satisfactorily account for it theologically.”26 The Bible’s silence about certain weighty matters is not unprecedented, but Frost focuses on “the silence of the historiographers” who are entrusted with the task of shedding light on historical events. Megiddo will continue to remind historians of their task of reconstructing the picture, while missing pieces impede the project. Events often take their course in the midst of confusion, in which each of the main players may have had a different dream regarding what can be gained from an encounter, arguably like the one at Megiddo in 609.

4. Josiah after Megiddo With Josiah’s sudden death, the reform measures come to an abrupt halt, permitting the old cultic practices of the high places to return to the domain, and Josiah’s extensive conquest becomes an unsustainable dream. Josiah’s reform is still remembered as a phase with a lasting legacy. The idea of Jerusalem as the center lives on. The profound Torah spirituality (Deut 6:4, which may have been a later summary, rather than the banner of the reform) persists to this day. The philosophy of history that guides the historiography of the Deuteronomistic History pervades the entire corpus of the Hebrew Bible, prominently in the redaction of the Prophets, the second part of the tripartite canon of the Hebrew Bible. The persistence of the Deuteronomistic tradition is an eloquent tribute to the continuity of history. 23 Begg

2000, 489, n. 233. Ant. 10.78 (Thackeray, LCL 326, 200–01). 25 Frost 1968, 369–82. 26 Frost 1968, 381. 24 Josephus,

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Other kings after Josiah, with the exception of Jehoiachin, fail to inspire hope for their generations. The last kings of Judah do not seem to understand the gravity of the situation into which the international world has thrown them. The accounts of their reigns reveal that their statesmanship demonstrated no capacity for having a sustainable foreign policy as they were involved in the history of “a series of no less than six critical turning points …, marking drastic shifts in loyalty from one major camp to the other.”27 While the tide of international politics was not in their favor, their behavior provided the Deuteronomistic History with fodder for pungent theological reproach. The rulers, who have no political acumen, seem to have no moral fiber, either. Little is known of the reign of Jehoiahaz, who appears to have been a puppet king, propped up and pulled down in three months. Jehoiakim is incapable of recognizing the serious nature of the situation, as he increases his harem and pursues a luxurious lifestyle, living off the lean of the land. Jehoiachin bears the brunt of Babylonian rage. He remains in the people’s imagination, possibly as the legitimate king, while Zedekiah presides over the last days of Judah. The most graphic example of royal moral bankruptcy in the last years of Judah is the way Zedekiah invokes the law of jubilee (Jer 34:8–22). In a case that may well be the only written instance of observance of the jubilee in Judean history, the slaves are set free, but the decree is invoked not in honor of the law but due to the shortage of food. It serves as a convenient measure that helps the leadership shun the responsibility of feeding the slaves. Zedekiah’s devious agenda is made clear when he orders the former slaves to be enslaved again as soon as Babylon lifts the siege with the news of the Egyptian’s army moving north. The Deuteronomistic Historian continues the theological critique of the kings of Judah, suggesting that there is no trace of the integrity that Josiah displayed. The Deuteronomistic Historian does not have another clairvoyant explanation like 2 Kings 23:26–27 for the direction of history in the last decades of Judean history. The last Deuteronomistic brushstroke concludes the corpus with a note that could inspire perplexity or renewed optimism, as it reports the release of “King Jehoiachin of Judah” (25:27–30), displaying a recognition that Judah’s fate is enmeshed with the changes in the international world, and that hope and despair are both possible in the midst of uncertainties that embrace the future.

5. Reflecting on the Task of Historical Reconstruction Histories often pay a great deal of attention to heroic individuals, recalling Thomas Carlyle’s words, “History is the essence of innumerable biographies.”28 27 Malamat 28 Carlyle

1988, 120. 1984, 57.

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Part of the reason that Megiddo of 609 causes such a conundrum has to do with the idea that Josiah could have done more if he had not died there. The death of Josiah at Megiddo in 609 offers a chance to reflect upon the major role an individual can play (or can be attributed). In a monarchic society, the king undoubtedly plays a large role in the turn of events. However, the course of history is not determined by kings alone. Social and geopolitical forces cannot be overemphasized. Individuals can and do have a sizable role in history, but historians, whose job is not limited to that of biographers, keep an eye on the configuration of historical dynamics, which grant some a major role while denying others a decisive part. However, what and under what setting an individual did in history is easier to imagine than to retrieve. Historians, who labor to reconstruct history, often cite the classic vision of Leopold von Ranke, who said that a historian “will bloß sagen, wie es eigentlich gewesen.”29 Often in the same breath, they highlight that it is an impossible task to describe history as it took place. Lester L. Grabbe, who regards “what actually happened” as the goal that “we are [not] necessarily able to reach,” compares a historian with a juggler.30 The metaphor of a juggler invokes not only the requisite skill to keep the pieces in the air but also the joviality the performer shares with the spectators. While historians can easily succumb to the desire to reconstruct the past they might also welcome the comic relief found in the candid declaration of Ammianus Marcellinus, a 4th century Roman historian: And since after many events the narrative has reached this point, I earnestly entreat my readers (if I ever have any) not to demand of me a strictly accurate account of what happened or the exact number of the slain, which there was no way of finding out.31

Nonetheless, the desire for historical reconstruction of which von Ranke speaks provides the starting point for all historical research as well as a defense of non-fulfillment of the dream of a complete historical reconstruction. As soon as a historian embarks in pursuit of this dream, he or she is bound to run up against the very nature of data, which serve as raw material. Many reiterate the fact that bruta facta are no longer accessible for any historical study, and the available data are not customized for their use. In the case of the Deuteronomistic History and the Chronicler’s History, “neither is concerned with history as it happened but only as it ought to be remembered; that is, as sacred story.”32 The same could be pertinently pronounced over any history in the Bible or history-like parts of it. The so-called historical data are not always, perhaps never, prepared or preserved to serve as historical records. 29 Von

Ranke 1824, vi. 1997, 14, 36. 31 Cited in Marincola 1997, 217. 32 Sandgren 2010, 17. 30 Grabbe

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Working on data that are not meant to be historical, the process of historical reconstruction is bound to encounter obstacles that accompany records and memories. A renewed realization of the resistance of records may lend aid to minimalist positions. The major contribution of historiographical minimalism is a chance to re-think the nature of data apart from the grand master narrative of history, for a historian should be able to say what cannot be known as well as what can be known. For example, when Philip R. Davies regards Josiah’s reign “as a pious legend: possible, but extremely improbable,”33 he can make a convincing case. However, Josiah’s reign as a verifiable historical fact is no more falsifiable than the idea that it is fictitious. More important, all human pursuits are charged with precarious outcomes, and uncertainties sustain historical discourses instead of draining their energy. When historians look back at what took place, the event may appear to be nothing but uncertain. However, as historian Jonas Grethlein observes, “causal analysis by historians should serve less to trace the great lines of history than to re-establish the uncertainty of the future for those who lived in the past.”34 Historiography finds a healthy grip on the game when it recognizes those uncertainties of the time. A historian’s task is not to end the process of historical research. He or she should be capable of inspiring other historians to rise in protest, and the level of passion that flows will keep the historians’ pursuit fresh. The strength of history as an autonomous field of science lies in its capacity to encourage, tolerate and participate in the revision of history without being dogmatic about a renewed reconstruction of history.

6. Conclusion: Israel’s History, Historians and Historiography A historian is not an omniscient narrator but a finite intermediary who interfaces bygone times with late comers who inquire of them. Like any historian, historians of Israel’s history may be compared with scientists who seek to restore an extinct species with an incomplete set of specimens. Filling the missing links with what they know from elsewhere could result in the creation of an imaginary composite monster, but abandonment of the project under a hermeneutics of despair will contribute nothing to the scientific pursuit. The recognition of the incomplete nature of any human project, along with willingness to have it subjected to scrutiny and openness to revisionism, has the potential to proffer a picture of the past whose clarity can be gained incrementally, if in disarray. In the midst of the comparable haze of historical studies, Josiah, who became a king as a child, oversaw the rejuvenation of the nation and died tragically in 33 Davies

2015, 29. 2013, 4, commenting on Raymond Aron’s dictum: “La retrospection crée une illusion de fatalité qui contredit l’impression contemporaine de contingence” (Aron 1938, 182). 34 Grethleijn

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Megiddo, provides a chance to reflect upon the meaningful and erratic nature of historiography. When one conceptualizes history merely as an account of how it ended, Josiah’s story may be an episode of truncated greatness. However, one can expand the horizon of historical vision by looking back into the preceding years and forward to the subsequent centuries, searching for the dynamics that shaped history. In the process, historians can perhaps offer a way for later generations to imaginatively experience the history of Judah, while acknowledging that its course would have been nothing but certain for those who experienced it at the time. Most of that uncertainty abides with those who seek a reasonable reconstruction of it, as well.

The Conquests of Jerusalem 597 bce and 587 bce in History and in Biblical Interpretation (2 Kings 24–25) Konrad Schmid 1. Introduction: The Interplay between History and Interpretation History and interpretation are not two different things. History is everything that has happened, but no one can perceive everything that has happened the way it happened.1 Why is that so? The answer is not difficult to give: history is far too complex. Therefore, even the most descriptive approach to history imaginable includes interpretation: interpretation by means of selection, of perception, of categorizing, and so on. Nevertheless, there are of course great differences as to the amount of interpretation that flows into a construction or re-construction of a past reality. Modern historians usually aim at minimizing the amount of interpretation when reconstructing the past.2 They try to adduce all possible sources and to evaluate them critically and carefully. In other words, they are interested in the past as past. Historians in antiquity, if we are allowed to call them that,3 did not possess such a critical consciousness. Rather, they related the past in a way that was most illuminating for the present. Their construction or reconstruction of the past was guided by the past’s impact on the present. In other words, historians in antiquity were interested in the past insofar it was relevant to the present. We should be cautious of too quickly dismissing such an approach. It is deeply rooted in the intellectual history of mankind, and, to a certain extent and for certain questions, is also still operative in modern societies.4 One of the best examples might be the question of a biography. Even today, narrating one’s biography is the most precise way to answer the question “who am I?” Physical data like height, weight, blood group, blood pressure, would provide some precise data, but would not be very informative. And if someone narrates his or her biography, he or she will exactly adapt his or her own history by 1 Cf. among many others Knauf 1991, 26–64. Cf. also Tadmor and Weinfeld 1983; Becking and Grabbe 2011; Kratz 2013; idem 2015. 2 Cf. the methodological discussions in Hardmeier 2001. 3 Cf. Van Seters 1997. 4 Cf. e. g. White 1973; Rüsen 1986; for the books of Kings see Schmitz 2008.

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selecting and presenting those events from it that became important for his or her identity. The following considerations will deal with ancient reconstructions of history. Its focus is the presentation of the capture and fall of Jerusalem in the years 597 and 587 bce, as it is narrated in 2 Kings 24–25.5 This article will try to analyze whether, how, and why these historical narratives are related to the present times of their authors.6 Thus, this analysis will differentiate between the world of the narrative playing out at the beginning of the 6th century bce, in the time of the Neo-Babylonian conquest of Judah and Jerusalem and the world of the narrator, situated, as we shall see, at least in part in significantly later periods.7 The books of Kings, as recognized since the very beginnings of critical scholarship in the 18th century, are neither just an eyewitness report of the events reported in them, nor a literarily unified work; instead, they are a multi-layered text including older and younger elements that are in part close, in part distant, even very distant to what they present as historical events of the past.8

2. The Destruction of Jerusalem in 587 bce according to 2 Kings 25 As is well known, Jerusalem was conquered by the Babylonians twice, first in 597 and then in 587 bce.9 For reasons that shall become clear later in this discussion, I will begin with the second conquest that also included the city’s and the temple’s destruction by fire in 587 bce. The historicity of this event cannot be doubted.10 Although we do not have any extra-biblical reference to this event and the archaeology of the temple in Jerusalem is a black box,11 this event is so well attested to and reflected in different biblical texts that are independent from each other that we can safely infer its basic historicity from these texts.12 There are some Neo-Babylonian sources pertaining to the end of the kingdom of Judah, but unfortunately, they do not cover the events of 587 bce. The so-called Neo-Babylonian Chronicles 2–5 report the military actions of the  5 For a text critical discussion of the different versions cf. Person 1997. Recent treatments of these chapters include Wöhrle 2008, 213–38; Levin 2010, 61–89.  6 Hardmeier 1990a, 165–84; and Levin 2008, 129–68, 131–38.  7 On this distinction see Schmid 2015b, 331–46.  8 For the literary growth of the books of Kings cf. Knoppers, 2010, 69–88; for a contextualization of the books of Kings’ historiography in ancient near eastern historiography cf. Liverani 2010, 163–84.  9 Cf. Frevel 2012, 789–800. 10 Cf. Albertz 2002, 23–39; cf. also Mayer 2002, 1–22. 11 Cf. Finkelstein et al. 2011. 12 Cf. the seminal methodological principles of Troeltsch 1913, 728–53 (ET available at: http://faculty.tcu.edu/grant/hhit/). Troeltsch basically claimed that three methodological steps are required for historically assessing biblical texts, i. e. “critique,” “analogy,” and “correlation.”

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Babylonian kings up to the year 594/593 bce including the conquest of Jerusalem in 597: He [sc. the king of Akkad, i. e. Nebuchadnezzar] encamped against the city of Judah [sc. Jerusalem] and on the second day of the month Adar he captured the city (and) seized (its) king. A king of his own choice he appointed in the city (and) taking the vast tribute he brought it into Babylon.13

Thus, no Neo-Babylonian sources are available for the fall of Jerusalem in 587 bce, but king Jehoiachin is mentioned again in a few lists explaining the food rations (including sesame oil and bread) for several persons at the Babylonian court.14 The text reporting the events of 587 bce in 2 Kings 25 has a prelude starting in 2 Kings 24:18–20 and then includes all of 2 Kings 25 except for the last four verses that speak of King Jehoiachin’s parole in Babylon. 2 Kings 24:18 starts with the description of Zedekiah’s reign, which lasted for 11 years. The preceding verse makes it clear that Zedekiah was not a sovereign king, but a puppet of the king of Babylon who had appointed him as king and even re-named him from his original name Mattaniah to Zedekiah, a clear sign of domination.15 Verses 19–20 add a negative theological evaluation of Zedekiah, but offer only an implicit connection between the “evil doing” of Zedekiah and the “anger of YHWH”16 that follows.17 There is no explicit causal link between them established by textual means, but v. 20b eventually mentions a mundane explanation for the catastrophe: Zedekiah “rebelled” against the king of Babylon, meaning in historical terms that he stopped paying taxes. 2 Kings 25:1–2 then jump forward to the ninth year of Zedekiah’s reign and describe the two-year siege of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. The date in 25:3 has to be restored according to the information in the parallel account Jere­miah 52:6, which reads ‫“ בחדש הרביעי בתשעה לחדש‬on the ninth day of the fourth month.” After the city wall was breached, the king and his soldiers fled the city,18 but they are eventually captured. Zedekiah is brought to the headquarter of Nebuchadnezzar in Ribla in northern Syria where he is blinded and his sons are slaughtered, and is then deported to Babylon. 13 Chronicle

5, 12–13, see Grayson 2000, 102. Weippert 2010, 425–30; Becking 2008, 183–202, 186; see also Sweeney 2007, 459 n. 4. 15 Cf. on naming as an element of domination Schellenberg 2011, 304–05. 16 Cf. on this notion Kratz 2008, 92–121. 17 Cf. Schmid 2000, 129–49. 18 Levin, 2010, 74, expresses doubt as to the historicity of this event: “The fact that this account of events is fictitious can be deduced from the extremely precise topographical information: “by the way of the gate between the two walls, by the king’s garden,” “in the direction of the Arabah,” “in the plains of Jericho.” The original Annals were not interested in details of this kind. The very way in which the writer suggests historical exactness betrays that this exactness did not exist.” 14 Cf.

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After that Nebuzaradan, a high officer of Nebuchadnezzar, orders the destruction of the temple, the palace and of all the great houses (25:9). In addition, the city walls were torn down (25:10). The city’s population, except for some poor farmers, were all deported to Babylon (25:12). The pillars and vessels of the temple were also brought to Babylon, as is described in great detail (25:13–17). The priests were brought to Riblah and killed there (25:18– 21). 25:22–26 recounts the episode about Gedaliah and his murder, whereas 25:27–30 deals with the last days of king Jehoiachin in exile and the fact that he was even allowed to dine at the table of the king of Babylon. If we just consider 2 Kings 25 for a moment, then it is apparent that this chapter offers no theology, at least no explicit theological interpretation at all.19 The tetragrammaton YHWH only occurs three times in 2 Kings 25 in the expression “house of YHWH,” denoting the temple in Jerusalem. But the text is silent about any possible acts of God during the events of the destruction of Jerusalem. The chapter only reports what the Babylonians are doing, but does not mention any divine agency, such as God’s stirring up the mind of Nebuchadnezzar to destroy Jerusalem or the like (as in 2 Chr 36). The theological dimension of the events must be added by the reader. The long passage about the looting of the temple especially seems to implicitly stress that this event is of special importance: God’s own temple is deprived of its vessels and is thus no longer able to operate in terms of a possible ongoing cult. The implicit theological significance of 2 Kings 25:27–30 has been much discussed. These verses move forward to the 37th year of the exile of king Jehoiachin, that is 562 bce (37 years after 597 bce) and report remarkably about Jehoiachin’s release from prison in Babylon. Of course, there has been a long standing discussion concerning the significance of these last four verses of 2 Kings 25: Does the chapter merely report what happened up to the author’s own present, as Martin Noth held?20 Or is king Jehoiachin’s release from prison a silver lining on the horizon foreshadowing the hope for future restoration and salvation, as Gerhard von Rad argued?21 At any rate, it also needs to be affirmed that in the last four verses, no mention of God is made and the evidence for a perspective of hope remains slim.22 For the following sections of this contribution, it is important to note that according to 25:11 the land is emptied in the course of the events of 587 bce, and only a few poor farmers remain. Furthermore, it is noteworthy that according to 2 Kings 25:13–17 the treasuries from the temple were brought to Babylon in 587 bce. 19 Cf.

Schmid 2015a. Noth 1957. 21 Cf. von Rad 1958, 189–204. 22 Cf. Becking 1990, 283–93. See also the overall discussion in Wöhrle 2008, 213f, Anm. 2, which provides an extensive bibliography. 20 Cf.

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3. The Perspective of 2 Kings 24 Looking from 2 Kings 25 to the preceding chapter, which depicts the events of the first conquest of Jerusalem ten years earlier in 597 bce, there are some astonishing observations to be made. First, according to 2 Kings 24:14, already in 597, all of Jerusalem went into exile: ‫והגלה את־כל־ירושלם ואת־כל־השרים ואת כל־גבורי החיל עשרה אלפים גולה וכל־החרש והמסגר‬ ‫לא נשאר זולת דלת עם־הארץ‬ He carried away all Jerusalem, all the officials, all the warriors, ten thousand captives, all the artisans and the smiths; no one remained, except the poorest people of the land.

In light of this statement, it is difficult to understand how 2 Kings 25:11 can report a similar deportation ten years later, as nearly everyone had already been deported earlier. Who would be left in Jerusalem to be deported after 597 bce, if we take 2 Kings 24:14 at par value? Secondly, the precious vessels of the temple that according to 2 Kings 25:13– 17 were brought to Babylon after the events of 587, had already been carried off ten years earlier according to 2 Kings 24:13: ‫ויוצא משם את־כל־אוצרות בית יהוה ואוצרות בית המלך ויקצץ את־כל־כלי הזהב אשר עשה שלמה‬ ‫מלך־ישראל בהיכל יהוה כאשר דבר יהוה‬ He carried off all the treasures of the house of YHWH, and the treasures of the king’s house; he cut in pieces all the vessels of gold, which Solomon, king of Israel, had made in the temple of YHWH, all this as YHWH had foretold. (The remark about YHWH’s foretelling might be referring to 2 Kings 20:17, but it is also possible that it has no specific scriptural reference in mind.)23

The possible explanation that in 597 only some and in 587 the rest of the vessels were brought to Babylon is not feasible, at least not in terms of the narrative logic, as 2 Kings 24:13 explicitly says “all the treasures of the house of YHWH.” We have a blunt contradiction here showing that there are two competing views on when the temple vessels were carried away from the temple in Jerusalem: 2 Kings 24:13 holds that this happened in 597 bce, whereas 2 Kings 25:13–17 dates this event a decade later. Up to this point, two peculiarities need to be affirmed. First, the depictions of the conquests of Jerusalem in 597 bce and 587 bce in 2 Kings 24 and 2 Kings 25 each involve an account of how the population and the temple vessels were brought to Babylon. Secondly, there are obviously other driving factors involved in the account of 2 Kings 24 and 25 than just the depiction of historical realities. Thus, the following questions arise: a) Which account – 2 Kings 24 or 25 – is closer to the historical truth and how can this be determined? b) What is the motivation behind the literary production of these contradictions? Why is the 23 Cf.

Würthwein 1984, 473.

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carrying away of the population and the temple vessels connected with two events that lie ten years apart from each other?

4. The Historical Reality behind 2 Kings 24 and 25 It is advisable first to deal with 2 Kings 24 and the events of 597 bce because both biblical and extra-biblical accounts are available for the first conquest of Jerusalem. Of course, the difference between biblical and extra-biblical source is not that the first ones are ideological and the second ones are trustworthy, as some minimalist scholars tend to assume, but both sources need critical evaluation and the information in one source needs to be balanced against that in other sources.24 Let us first have a look at the Neo-Babylonian Chronicle 5 again: He [sc. the king of Akkad, i. e. Nebuchadnezzar] encamped against the city of Judah [sc. Jerusalem] and on the second day of the month Adar he captured the city (and) seized (its) king. A king of his own choice he appointed in the city (and) taking the vast tribute he brought it into Babylon.

This account can be compared to other military campaigns of Nebuchadnezzar in the same chronicle. “Seizing” a king is also reported regarding the conquest of Ashqelon in 604 bce, “appointing” a new king is mentioned only here. The deportation of Jehoiachin is not mentioned here, but it is taken for granted historically, as Jehoiachin shows up in Babylonian texts presupposing his sojourn in Babylon later. Taking a “vast” tribute is the most common element in the Neo-Babylonian Chronicles: apparently, economic benefit was one of the important driving factors of these campaigns. Thus we may infer that 2 Kings 24 provides correct historical information for the siege and capture of Jerusalem of which only the Neo-Babylonian Chronicle provides an exact date, whereas the biblical text does not. Then the seizing of king Jehoiachin and his replacement by Mattaniah / Zedekiah is accurate as well. And finally, we can infer from the common praxis of the Neo-Babylonian military and the mention both in Chronicles 5 and in 2 Kings 24 that a “vast tribute” had been carried off from Jerusalem to Babylon. However, this tribute arguably did not include “all” treasures from the temple, as e. g. Jeremiah 27:19–21 refers three times to the “vessels” that remained in the temple and the palace.25 Regarding a possible deportation in 597 bce, there is no information available from Chronicles 5. As mentioned, the deportation of king Jehoiachin is to be considered a historical fact given the later mention of him in Babylon. But regarding a possible deportation of the population in 597 bce, we must critically examine the text of 2 Kings 24. The relevant passage is to be found in vv. 14–16: 24 Cf.

e. g. Becking 2000, 123–41; Holloway 2013, 90–118. 2005, 301 n. 122.

25 Lipschits

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‫והגלה את־כל־ירושלם ואת־כל־השרים ואת ׀ כל־גבורי החיל עשרה אלפים גולה וכל־החרש והמסגר‬ ‫לא נשאר זולת דלת עם־הארץ׃‬ ‫ויגל את־יהויכין בבלה ואת־אם המלך ואת־נשי המלך ואת־סריסיו ואת [אולי הארץ הוליך גולה‬ ‫מירושלם בבלה׃‬ ‫ואת כל־אנשי החיל שבעת אלפים והחרש והמסגר אלף הכל גבורים עשי מלחמה ויביאם מלך־בבל‬ ‫גולה בבלה׃‬ He carried away all Jerusalem, all the officials, all the warriors, ten thousand deportees, all the artisans and the smiths; no one remained, except the poorest people of the land. He carried away Jehoiachin to Babylon; the king’s mother, the king’s wives, his officials and the elite of the land, he took into captivity from Jerusalem to Babylon. And all warriors, seven thousand, the artisans and the smiths, one thousand, all of them strong and fit for war, the king of Babylon brought them captive to Babylon.

This text betrays clear signs of literary disunity and redactional reworking. It first mentions the carrying away of “all Jerusalem,” “all the officials, all the warriors, ten thousand deportees, all the armorers and the smiths,” only the poor remained in the land (v. 14). Then the deportation of the king is reported including his household and the elite of the land (v. 15). Finally, we are again told that “all the warriors,” but now seven thousand, and additionally one thousand “artisans and smiths” were carried away to Babylon (v. 16). Verse 15 is the least suspicious verse, because it contains historically accurate information, as we have seen. But v. 14 and v. 16 present conflicting views. It seems as though v. 14 takes up v. 16 which mentions the king and entourage, and is plausibly placed after v. 15, and expands and generalizes the information contained therein: It is 10,000 captives who were deported to Babylon, not 8,000, and it was “all Jerusalem” that was carried away. Therefore, one may assume that vv. 15–16 belong to the basic layer of 2 Kings 24, mentioning what probably is historically accurate: the deportation of the king and his officials and of the persons responsible for Judah’s military industry. Verse 14 is (together with v. 13) the result of a secondary expansion that tries to have Jerusalem already emptied in 597 bce, which is both in conflict with the following verses and also with other biblical texts that presuppose a significant population in Jerusalem after 597 bce (e. g. in Jer 27–29 or 37–44). In addition, one might also point to the literary continuity between v. 12 and 15, if vv. 13–14 are bracketed in as an addition.26 26 Cf.

Lipschits 2005, 300 n. 16; Levin 2010, 67.

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But why is 2 Kings 24 interested in already having a total deportation in the wake of the events of 597 bce? What kind of theological interest is connected to that position? Before addressing these questions, let us first ask about the historicity of what 2 Kings 25 narrates. There are no sources other than the biblical ones for the fall of Jerusalem. Besides 2 Kings 25 we have the parallel in Jeremiah 52 (with some relevant variants in the ancient versions, especially the LXX) and some additional material in Jeremiah 39–43 plus some scattered words in the former part of the book of Jeremiah. First, we are not told why the Babylonian army started a new campaign against Judah probably in 589 or 588.27 One can assume that it is because Zedekiah stopped paying taxes to the Babylonians. As the Egyptians helped Judah in 588 bce during the siege of Jerusalem (cf. Jer 37:5), it may well be that Zedekiah had shifted alliances in the wake of a campaign of Psammetich II to Syria in 592 or 591.28 The anti-Babylonian coalition that Jeremiah 27:2–11 reports for 594 bce, including Edom, Moab, Ammon, Tyrus and Sidon, might also have played a role, although it arguably did not yield any results. 2 Kings 25:1 presumes Nebuchadnezzar himself leading the campaign against Jerusalem,29 whereas according to 2 Kings 25:6 he is stationed in Riblah in northern Syria later on, which leaves the question open whether he was in Jerusalem in person or not. The Babylonians eventually break the city walls, which is also confirmed by Jeremiah 39:1–6, an account which is a little more elaborate than 2 Kings 25. However, Jeremiah 39:1–6 might be literarily dependent upon 2 Kings 25, as some passages are identical, but seem to have been expanded in Jeremiah 39 (cf. 2 Kgs 25:7/Jer 39:6). It remains difficult to decide whether or not 2 Kings 25:7 is historically accurate about slaughtering Zedekiah’s sons and blinding him. Zedekiah’s blinding seems to be in contradiction to Jeremiah 32:4–5:30 ‫וצדקיהו מלך יהודה לא ימלט מיד הכשדים כי הנתן ינתן ביד מלך־בבל ודבר־פיו עם־פיו ועיניו את־‬ ‫עינו תראינה׃‬ ‫ובבל יולך את־צדקיהו ושם יהיה עד־פקדי אתו נאם־יהוה כי תלחמו את־הכשדים לא תצליחו׃‬ King Zedekiah of Judah shall not escape out of the hands of the Chaldeans, but shall surely be given into the hands of the king of Babylon, and shall speak with him face to face and see him eye to eye; and he shall take Zedekiah to Babylon, and there he shall remain until I attend to him, says YHWH; though you fight against the Chaldeans, you shall not succeed.

27 See

the discussion in Donner 2007, 410. Yoyotte 1951, 140–44. 29 Würthwein 1977, 475 n. 6. 30 Cf. Pakkala 2006, 443–52; Levin 2010, 72. 28 Cf.

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Blinding does not correspond to Babylonian practice, and seems to reflect rather a literary productive reflection on texts like Jeremiah 22:28–30. In addition, the verbs in 2 Kings 25:7 are not narratives, but perfects, and thus are not smoothly integrated into their context. It may thus well be that the blinding of king Zedekiah and maybe also the slaughtering of his sons is a literary invention in order to further highlight the judgment on Zedekiah and his offspring. Regarding the deportations recounted in 2 Kings 25:11–12, most recent research has suggested that the Babylonians did indeed carry away a significant amount of the population.31 Traditional scholarship in the 20th century believed that the biblical reports about the numbers of deportees were highly exaggerated and preferred to trust in the kind of information that can be found in Jeremiah 52:28–30: ‫זה העם אשר הגלה נבוכדראצר בשנת־שבע יהודים שלשת אלפים ועשרים ושלשה׃‬ ‫בשנת שמונה עשרה לנבוכדראצר מירושלם נפש שמנה מאות שלשים ושנים׃‬ ‫בשנת שלש ועשרים לנבוכדראצר הגלה נבוזראדן רב־טבחים יהודים נפש שבע מאות ארבעים‬ ‫וחמשה כל־נפש ארבעת אלפים ושש מאות׃‬ This is the number of the people whom Nebuchadrezzar took into exile: in the seventh year, three thousand twenty-three Judeans; in the eighteenth year of Nebuchadrezzar he took into exile from Jerusalem eight hundred thirty-two persons; in the twenty-third year of Nebuchadrezzar, Nebuzaradan the captain of the guard took into exile of the Judeans seven hundred forty-five persons; all the persons were four thousand six hundred.

But the textual situation for Jeremiah 52:28–30 is not very trustworthy, as these verses are absent from the LXX. In addition, archaeological data seem to support a decisive amount of deportations during the exile.32 Nevertheless, there are clear signs of ideological reworking in 2 Kings 25. The information in 2 Kings 25:12 especially is driven by ideology (“But some of the poorest people of the land left the captain of the guard to be vinedressers and tillers of the soil.”) and seems to reflect the convictions of the exiled community in Babylon, not the historical givens. We know from Jeremiah 40f, but also from 2 Kings 25:22, that there was a “remnant” which was left in the land by “Nebuchadnezzar,” not “Nebusaradan,” not only for economic purposes (as “vinedressers and tillers of the soil”), but also as a politically structured entity under the rule of Gedaliah. The specific accuracy of 2 Kings 25:13–17 is difficult to determine. In narrative terms, this passage about the carrying away of the temple vessels comes somewhat belatedly, as the destruction of the temple had already been reported in 2 Kings 25:9a. In addition, 2 Kings 25:13–17 “interrupts the account about

31 Cf.

Lipschits 2005, 149–54. Lipschits 2003, 323–76; idem 2004, 99–107; cf. also Finkelstein 2010, 39–54, cf. the discussion in Ben Zvi 2010, 155–68. 32 Cf.

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the population and tears it apart.”33 It is however, more than likely that precious metal goods from the temple were abducted to Babylon. Surprisingly, the ark is not mentioned; it could be that it was not considered as precious by the Babylonians, or that it had been rescued beforehand, but was then lost and/or forgotten. Verses 18–21 offer some information about the deportation of some high officials to Riblah and their death sentence or penalty. Again, there is no way to verify this information historically; on the other hand, there is also no indication to doubt its accuracy. Verses 22–26 report the commissioning of Gedaliah in Mizpah as a Babylonian vassal,34 and his death by the hands of Ishmael and his men who subsequently fled to Egypt. This episode is corroborated by the Jeremian parallel in Jeremiah 39–41. Finally, after a narrative time gap of about 30 years, we learn in 2 Kings 25:27– 30 about Jehoiachin’s fate in Babylon. Although the text shows some reworking in light of the biblical Joseph story, we can trust its historical substance in light of the aforementioned Neo-Babylonian documents. Apparently, 2 Kings 25:27–30 depicted Jehoiachin in the colors of the biblical Joseph who ascended from prison to one of the highest offices in Egypt: Jehoiaichin is “released from prison,” he “put aside his prison clothes,” and he dined in the “king’s presence.” But this specific depiction does not affect the basic historicity of the events narrated at the end of the books of Kings.

5. History and Interpretation in 2 Kings 24 and 25 As noted by many scholars, it is surprising that the main body of theological interpretation at the end of the books of Kings is provided in 2 Kings 24 instead of 2 Kings 25.35 That is, the somewhat less decisive elements in 597 bce seemed to have attracted more interpretive weight than those of 587 bce. The most explicit interpretive passage is found at the start of 2 Kings 24, in vv. 2–3: ‫וישלח יהוה בו את־גדודי כשדים ואת־גדודי ארם ואת גדודי מואב ואת גדודי בני־עמון וישלחם ביהודה‬ ‫להאבידו כדבר יהוה אשר דבר ביד עבדיו הנביאים׃‬ ‫אך על־פי יהוה היתה ביהודה להסיר מעל פניו בחטאת מנשה ככל אשר עשה׃‬ YHWH sent against him bands of the Chaldeans, bands of the Arameans,36 bands of the Moabites and bands of the Ammonites; he sent them against Judah to destroy it, according 33 Levin

2010, 77. Levin 2010, 82–85. 35 Cf. among many others Seitz 1991; see also the discussion in Wöhrle 2008. 36 Some scholars suggest replacing “Arameans” with “Edomites,” but cf. Lipschits 2005, 52 f. 34 Cf.

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to the word of YHWH that he spoke by his servants the prophets. Surely this came upon Judah at the command of YHWH, to remove them out of his sight, for the sins of Manasseh, for all that he had committed, and also for the innocent blood that he had shed; for he filled Jerusalem with innocent blood, and YHWH was not willing to pardon.

There is a text-critical issue at the beginning of v. 2. YHWH is named in the Hebrew text as the explicit subject of the sending of Babylonian auxiliary troops against Juda (‫ )וישלח יהוה בו‬whereas the Greek text provides no explicit subject, but refers back to Nebuchadnezzar as subject in v. 1 (καὶ ἀπέστειλεν αὐτῷ). Ernst Würthwein thinks that the Greek version is original, and that “YHWH” as subject intruded from the statement in v. 2b: “according to the word of YHWH that he spoke by his servants the prophets,” because nowhere else in the basic layer of the Deuteronomistic History (“DtrG”)37 does YHWH intervene so directly in the course of historical events.38 However, we will see in a moment that 2 Kings 24:2–4 is not really “Deuteronomistic” in its theology. The most important theological elements are presented in vv. 3–4: ‫אך על־פי יהוה היתה ביהודה להסיר מעל פניו בחטאת מנשה ככל אשר עשה׃‬ ‫וגם דם־הנקי אשר שפך וימלא את־ירושלם דם נקי ולא־אבה יהוה לסלח׃‬ Surely this came upon Judah at the command of YHWH, to remove them out of his sight, for the sins of Manasseh, for all that he had committed, 4 and also for the innocent blood that he had shed; for he filled Jerusalem with innocent blood, and YHWH was not willing to pardon.

First, we need to determine what “this came upon Judah” means. Does this just refer to the sending of the different bands in the days of Jehoiakim (vv. 2–3)? This is not very likely, as the end of v. 2b explicitly holds “he sent them against Judah to destroy it” (‫)וישלחם ביהודה להאבידו‬. Verse 2b is thus an elliptic formulation that already anticipates the destruction of Judah in 597 and 587 bce. Furthermore, the wording of v. 2b (‫ )וישלחם ביהודה להאבידו‬is a strong argument against Würthwein’s suggestion that 24:1–2 originally had “Nebuchadnezzar” as subject instead of “YHWH:”39 With reference to Judah, ‫ אבד‬hi. (“to destroy”) always has God as subject (cf. Deut 28:53, 61, cf. Jer 1:10; 18:7; 31:28). The most astonishing interpretive device in 2 Kings 24 is the prominent and exclusive blaming of Manasseh for the destruction of Judah: “for the sins of Manasseh, for all that he had committed, 4 and also for the innocent blood that he had shed; for he filled Jerusalem with innocent blood, and YHWH was not willing to pardon.” This statement is very much at odds what we know from elsewhere in the Deuteronomistic History: The kings, at least the “bad” ones, 37 Cf.

the discussion in Römer 2007; Knoppers 2010. 1984, 468 n. 2. 39 Würthwein 1977, 468. 38 Würthwein

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or the people are seen as responsible, but not just one single king, Manasseh, such as in 2 Kings 24:3–4.40 Obviously, 2 Kings 24:3–4 provides a peculiar perspective on the fall of ­Jerusalem and its theological rationale. Manasseh is the villain who is responsible for all the evil that came upon Judah and Jerusalem. But why? Why Manasseh? In order to approach this question, we need to have a look at the Manasseh passage in 2 Kings 21:1–10 which, besides the summary note in 2 Kings 23:26, is the only text in Deuteronomy-Kings which holds a similar view (cf. Jer 15:4). 2 Kings 21 holds not only a singular position in blaming Manasseh alone, but also in how it evaluates king Manasseh: First, 2 Kings 21:3 mentions that Manasseh rebuilt the high places that Hezekiah had destroyed previously. No king other than Manasseh “rebuilt” high places, which seems to be seen as a peculiar cultic crime. Second, worshipping all the host of heaven is only reported of Manasseh (2 Kgs 21:5). 2 Kings 17:16 mentions such a worship by the Northern kingdom Israel, but Manasseh is the only king in Israel and Judah who failed in this respect. Third, his practices of soothsaying, augury and dealing with the dead, as reported by v. 6, are also singular. Fourth, it is quite often the case with kings of the Northern kingdom, that they are said to have “provoked” (‫כעס‬41 hi.) YHWH (1 Kgs 14:9; 15:30: Jeroboam, 1 Kgs 16:7: Baasha, 1 Kgs 16:26: Omri, 1 Kgs 16:33: Ahab, 1 Kgs 22:54: Ahazia, 2 Kgs 23:19: in general of Israel’s kings, 1 Kgs 16:2, 13; 2 Kgs 17:11, 17: of the people of Israel). But Manasseh is the only king of Judah who is blamed for having “provoked” YHWH (2 Kgs 21:6). Fifth, the reproach against Manasseh of having “caused Israel to sin” (‫חטא‬ hi. 2 Kgs 21:11, 16) is also singular for a Judean king. It is very common for Jeroboam (1 Kgs 14:16; 15:26, 30, 34; 16:2, 19, 26; 22:53; 2 Kgs 3:3; 10:29, 31; 13:2, 11; 14:24; 15:9, 18, 24, 28; 17:21; 23:15), but also for a few other kings of the Northern kingdom (1 Kgs 16:13: Baasha and Ela; 1 Kgs 21:22: Ahab). Taken together, two main motives need to be highlighted in the Manasseh passage in 2 Kings 21. First, Manasseh is guilty of especially serious sacrileges and offences, and second, some of these iniquities are portrayed as a sum of the misdeeds of the Northern kings. In other words, the “sins of Manasseh” (2 Kgs 21:17; 24:3) responsible for the fall of Judah seem to be paralleled by the “sin of Jeroboam” that ultimately caused the downfall of the Northern kingdom.

40 For a historical reconstruction of the time of Manasseh see Knauf 2005, 164–88; Stavrakopoulou 2005, 248–63. 41 Cf. Stolz 1971, 838–42, 840 f.

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But again: Why does 2 Kings 21 together with 2 Kings 23:26 and 2 Kings 24:2–4 develop this peculiar perspective, a perspective that is at odds with the mainstream theology of the Deuteronomistic History that accuses the bad kings (all of the Northern kingdom and about half of the Southern kingdom) and the people, but clearly refrains from singling out just one person responsible for the fall of Jerusalem? The key for the answer to this question lies in the specific theological profile of 2 Kings 24. The most important interpretive piece is to be found in 2 Kings 24:13–14, two verses that almost certainly are an addition to the chapter. ‫ויוצא משם את־כל־אוצרות בית יהוה ואוצרות בית המלך ויקצץ את־כל־כלי הזהב אשר עשה שלמה‬ ‫מלך־ישראל בהיכל יהוה כאשר דבר יהוה׃‬ ‫והגלה את־כל־ירושלם ואת־כל־השרים ואת כל־גבורי החיל עשרה אלפים גולה וכל־החרש והמסגר‬ ‫לא נשאר זולת דלת עם־הארץ׃‬ He carried off all the treasures of the house of YHWH, and the treasures of the king’s house; he cut in pieces all the vessels of gold, which Solomon, king of Israel, had made in the temple of YHWH, all this as YHWH had foretold. He carried away all Jerusalem, all the officials, all the warriors, ten thousand deportees, all the armorers and the smiths; no one remained, except the poorest people of the land.

The secondary nature of these verses is obvious for two reasons I have already mentioned: First, they produce a contradiction with the following chapter 2 Kings 25 in that they say that “all” treasures of the temple and “all” Jerusalem had already been carried away ten years before 587 bce, in 597 bce, leaving nothing behind for the events of 2 Kings 25. Second, v. 15 smoothly links up with v. 12. There must be a specific reason why this addition in 2 Kings 24:13–14 twists the historical reality in an obvious manner. Apparently, these verses strive to predate the decisive elements of Jerusalem’s and Judah’s catastrophe to 597 bce, and to minimize the significance of the events of 587 bce. Why is this so? The answer can be found in the historical information included in vv. 15–16 (which belongs to the older stratum in 2 Kings 24): ‫ויגל את־יהויכין בבלה ואת־אם המלך ואת־נשי המלך ואת־סריסיו ואת אולי הארץ הוליך גולה‬ ‫מירושלם בבלה׃‬ ‫ואת כל־אנשי החיל שבעת אלפים והחרש והמסגר אלף הכל גבורים עשי מלחמה ויביאם מלך־בבל‬ ‫גולה בבלה׃‬ He carried away Jehoiachin to Babylon; the king’s mother, the king’s wives, his officials and the elite of the land, he took into captivity from Jerusalem to Babylon. And all the warriors, seven thousand, the armorers and the smiths, one thousand, all of them strong and fit for war, the king of Babylon brought them captive to Babylon.

These verses explain that in 597 the king and his entourage, including the elite of the land, were deported to Babylon. Here lies the main root of the conflict between those who were exiled in Babylon and returned to the land in the wake

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of Cyrus’ edict, and those who had remained in Judah during the exile. This conflict is documented in several passages in a number of post-exilic texts of the Hebrew Bible. Karl-Friedrich Pohlmann42 is to be especially credited for pointing out the existence of what he had called a “golaorientierte Redaktion” (“golah-oriented redaction, that is a redaction maintaining and expressing the political and theological interests of those who were exiled 597 bce with king Jehoiachin to Babylon). Maybe the best example of a text illustrating what this redaction has in mind can be found in Jeremiah 24.43 Jeremiah 24 includes a vision located after the events of 597 bce. The vision presents two baskets of figs, one basket with good, the other one with bad figs. The good figs represent the group around king Jehoiachin that was deported in 597 bce to Babylon, the bad figs stand for those who remained in the land. The good figs will have a future, the bad ones will not, they will be dispersed and become extinct. It is obvious that Jeremiah 24 makes a sharp distinction within the people of Israel: the legitimate group is the first golah deported under Jehoiachin. The promise they get is the following (Jer 24:6–7): ‫ושמתי עיני עליהם לטובה והשבתים על־הארץ הזאת ובניתים ולא אהרס ונטעתים ולא אתוש׃‬ ‫ונתתי להם לב לדעת אתי כי אני יהוה והיו־לי לעם ואנכי אהיה להם לאלהים כי־ישבו אלי בכל־לבם׃‬ I will set my eyes upon them for good, and I will bring them back to this land. I will build them up and not tear them down; I will plant them and not pluck them up. I will give them a heart to know that I am YHWH; and they shall be my people and I will be their God, for they shall return to me with their whole heart.

This program is crystal clear, but it certainly does not stem from the historical prophet Jeremiah. In Jeremiah 27–28, but also in Jeremiah 32 and 37–38 we can see what Jeremiah thought about the situation between 597 and 587 bce. By no means was he of the opinion that the legitimate part of Israel had been carried away to Babylon and whoever remained in the land was now doomed to perish. Rather he held that it was necessary to bow one’s neck under the yoke of the king of Babylon, because this was the only way to have a chance to survive. Jeremiah 24 with its perspective of judgment on the Zedekiah generation argues differently. There is no possibility of survival at all after 597 bce. In fact, according to this position the land was emptied during the exile. It is quite obvious that this perspective reflects the interests of the exiled community that originated in the 597 bce deportation: This community wanted to evoke the impression that they are the only legitimate representatives of monarchic Judah after the downfall of Jerusalem. 42 Pohlmann 43 Cf.

1978. Schmid 1996, 253–69; somewhat differently Stipp 2015, 349–79.

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The same theological program in Jeremiah 24 can be found in the book of Ezekiel.44 The dating system in Ezekiel which is aligned with the reign of Jehoiachin (Ezek 1:2; 8:1; 20:2; 26:1; 29:1,17; 30:20; 31:1; 32:1, 17; 33:21; 40:1) already shows that the Ezekiel tradition is closely linked with the community of the deportees from 597 to which also Ezekiel himself belonged. In addition, the book of Ezekiel concurs with the position of Jeremiah 24 that there is no possibility for a future life in the land for those who had remained there after 597 bce, cf. Ezek 12:19; 14:21–23; 15:8 and 33:21–29. Given the archaeological realities of the exilic period, it can be asserted that the population of the land was indeed significantly diminished at that time, but the land was by no means empty. In other words, this perspective is historically inaccurate, but rather driven by ideology and probably presupposes some historical distance to the events it describes, as Pohlmann has pointed out. If one is acquainted with this clear-cut program in Jeremiah 24 (including some satellite texts in Jeremiah as well, e. g. Jer 29:16–20) and in Ezekiel, it becomes obvious that the passages in 2 Kings 24:2–4 and 13–14 belong to the same ideological movement. Possibly, they were even written by the same hand.45 2 Kings 24 has been re-interpreted in order to accommodate the end of the books of Kings to the theological program of the golah-oriented redaction: The decisive event at the end of the monarchy was the deportation of king Jehoiachin and his entourage in 597 bce, and not the destruction of the temple in 587 bce and the abduction of king Zedekiah to Riblah. All this explains why 2 Kings 24 is so heavily loaded in theological terms. But the question remains open why 2 Kings 25 seems to be so unpretentious in theological regards. Why is there hardly any explicit interpretive perspective regarding the theological significance of these events? This is especially noteworthy as several texts, such as Lam 1:7–8; Jer 13:20–22; or Isa 40:1–2 from the period of the fall of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile develop very strong interpretations regarding the events of 587 bce: ‫זכרה ירושלם ימי עניה ומרודיה כל מחמדיה אשר היו מימי קדם בנפל עמה ביד־צר ואין עוזר לה‬ ‫ראוה צרים שחקו על משבתה׃‬ ‫חטא חטאה ירושלם על־כן לנידה היתה כל־מכבדיה הזילוה כי־ראו ערותה גם־היא נאנחה ותשב‬ ‫אחור׃‬ Jerusalem remembers, in the days of her affliction and wandering, all the precious things that were hers in days of old. When her people fell into the hand of the foe, and there was no one to help her, the foe looked on mocking over her downfall. Jerusalem sinned grievously, so she has become a mockery; all who honored her despise her, for they have seen her nakedness; she herself groans and turns her face away (Lam 1:7–8).

44 Cf. 45 In

Pohlmann 1996; idem 2001. Cf. also Konkel 2002, 357–83. more detail cf. Schmid 1997, 87–99.

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‫שאי עיניכם וראי הבאים מצפון איה העדר נתן־לך צאן תפארתך׃‬ ‫מה־תאמרי כי־יפקד עליך ואת למדת אתם עליך אלפים לראש הלוא חבלים יאחזוך כמו אשת לדה׃‬ ‫וכי תאמרי בלבבך מדוע קראני אלה ברב עונך נגלו שוליך נחמסו עקביך׃‬ Lift up your eyes [addressed is the personified city of Jerusalem] and see those who come from the north. Where is the flock that was given you, your beautiful flock? What will you say when they set as head over you those whom you have trained to be your allies? Will not pangs take hold of you, like those of a woman in labor? And if you say in your heart, ‘Why have these things come upon me?’ it is for the greatness of your iniquity that your skirts are lifted up, and you are violated (Jer 13:20–22). ‫נחמו נחמו עמי יאמר אלהיכם׃‬ ‫דברו על־לב ירושלם וקראו אליה כי מלאה צבאה כי נרצה עונה כי לקחה מיד יהוה כפלים בכל־‬ ‫חטאתיה׃‬ Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from ­YHWH’s hand double for all her sins (Isa 40:1–2).

All this makes the question of why there is so little explicit theology in 2 Kings 25 even more pressing. Several possible answers come to mind: First, if 2 Kings 25 is rather close to the events depicted in that chapter, it may well be that a lot of theological interpretation which could have been employed by the chapter’s author had not yet been developed. Second, if Frank Moore Cross’ theory on the composition of the Deuteron­ omistic History is correct in some of its basic tenets, especially with regard to the first edition of the Deuteronomistic History pertaining to Josiah’s reform in 2 Kings 23,46 then the allocation of the main interpretive elements in 2 Kings 17 (i.e., the fall of Samaria and the wicked Northern kingdom; the evaluation of Israel and Judah’s kings) is done plausibly, with no natural incentive to add a major interpretive perspective in 2 Kings 25. Third, it needs to be kept in mind that 2 Kings 25 and the books of Kings were probably never transmitted and read alone. There was also the prophetic tradition, which included Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, Amos and Micah at least and maybe others and these prophetic writings were probably already interpreted in some way and looked both back into the possible reasons for the catastrophe, and at least partially forward into the future. So the main theological interpretation was provided by the prophetic and not the narrative books of the Hebrew Bible, that were, to a certain extent, read and perceived together.

46 Cross 1973, 274–89; also e. g., Nelson 1981; Knoppers 1993/1994, I, 51–52; see the reports on the history of scholarship: Römer and de Pury 1996, 47–50; Avioz 2005, 11–55, 14–16. Wellhausen was already sympathetic with this view, cf. Wellhausen 1899. Cf. Schmid 2006, 23–47.

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6. History, Historicity and Interpretation Would the Bible be more true if its historical texts simply reflected the historicity of the events depicted? Is 2 Kings 24 less true than 2 Kings 25 because it is to a lesser degree historically accurate? These are, of course, difficult questions that are not easy to answer. Nevertheless, some suggestions are in order. First, a lot of cities and temples were destroyed in the ancient Near East. The fate of Jerusalem is not an exceptional one, and within the framework of ancient Near Eastern literature reports on such destructions are not confined to the Bible. But what only the Bible provides is a series of subsequent interpretations (“Fortschreibungen”) of one and the same event that try to establish a meta-historical significance for what happened.47 Of course, these interpretations often blur the historical accuracy of the narrated events. But one may safely assume that a non-interpreted account of the fall of Jerusalem never would have attracted the attention the current version of the books of Kings did, let alone that it would have become a canonical or sacred text. Only as an interpretively saturated text, the Bible has imposed itself as an authority to its readers. In addition, it needs to be highlighted that the process of adding literary comments to an already existing text is a different thing to completely rewriting a given text. By adding to a text, a certain multi-perspectivity arises and even the older tradition elements remain visible and discernible. Therefore, the new interpretive elements in a biblical text were not just added in order to veil the pre-existing perspective, but rather to transform it while still granting it, to a certain extent, its own validity. In both ancient and modern cultures, history-writing has a strong link to the concept of remembering:48 What is historically significant is what a culture deems worth remembering. And apparently, the biblical tradition was not willing to unify its heritage of the past. Rather, it presented different perspectives on its past that were not always logically aligned, but that, like a cathedral that grew over many centuries and includes different architectural styles, have formed an interpretive building. Its beauty does not lie in tearing down the building to its original structure, but in ascertaining its complex quality.

47 On

this cf. Schmid 2011. 2005; Assmann 1992; idem 2010, 3–18.

48 Hendel

Did Jeremiah Preach at the Temple of Jerusalem in the Year 609 bce? An Inquiry into the ‘Deuteronomistic Editorial Layer’ in the Book of Jeremiah1 Johannes Unsok Ro 1. Introduction It remains inconclusive whether a Deuteronomistic editorial layer exists in the book of Jeremiah, and it is thus a major research topic and a subject of continuing debate.2 Bernhard Duhm originated of the hypothesis that there is a kind of Deuteronomistic revision in the book of Jeremiah. He divided the book of Jeremiah into three categories: (1) Jeremiah’s poetry, (2) Baruch’s texts and (3) a multitude of secondary supplements. He views some of the texts in the third category as Deuteronomistic.3 Many scholars, including Sigmund Mowinckel, adoped this hypothesis. Mowinckel modified Duhm’s supplementary theory into a source theory. In his view, the original book of Jeremiah (Jer 1–45) can be divided into the following four sources: (A) Jeremiah’s poetic oracles in Jeremiah 1–25, (B) the third-person narratives, (C) Jeremiah’s prose sermons and (D) postexilic additions (Jer 30– 31).4 Mowinckel asserts that Jer 7:1–8:3; 11:1–5, 9–14; 18:1–12; 21:1–10; 25:1– 11a; 32:1–2, 6–16, 24–44; 34:1–7, 8–22; 35:1–19; and 44:1–14 belong to the C source, meaning that these texts were written by a Deuteronomistic theologian around 400 bce either in Babylon or in Palestine. Jeremiah 7 deserves recognition as the beginning of this Deuteronomistic source.5 Mowinckel’s theory underwent redaction-critical revision and further development by subsequent generations of scholars such as James Philip Hyatt, Wilhelm Rudolph, Moshe

1 This

is a revised and updated version of Ro 2018, 75–101. detailed reviews of research cf. Stipp 2015, 261–97; 2013, 487–517; G. Fischer 2007, 55–71; Willi-Plein 2007, 163–82; Herrmann 1990, 53–181; Schmid 1996, 12–43; Albertz 2001, 231–36; and Maier 2002, 14–41 among others. 3 Duhm 1901, x. 4 Mowinckel 1914, 20–55. 5 Ibid., 31. 2 For

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Weinfeld, Ernest Wilson Nicholson and Winfried Thiel, to name a few.6 Thiel in particular attempts to discern a single layer of Deuteronomistic redaction throughout the book of Jeremiah, which could date to around 550 bce.7 Numerous scholars have accepted Thiel’s hypothesis, and for a while it was regarded as standard theory. However, there is now a widespread tendency towards challenging or even rejecting the standard theory.8 One of the most important concerns is whether the verses in the book of Jeremiah commonly regarded as the Deuteronomistic editorial layer are actually Deuteronomistic. Is it not the case that Jeremiah’s authentic voice resounds throughout these texts? Is it not also true that they contain other heterogeneous redactions distinct from the Deuteronomistic layer? This chapter seeks to address these concerns by analyzing Jeremiah 7.

2. Does Jeremiah 7:1–12 Derive from the Prophet Jeremiah? Many scholars have come to perceive Jeremiah 79 as an archetypal Deuteronomistic text.10 On the other hand, however, there are also voices that question whether these verses can be called Deuteronomistic.11 When and by whom was this text written? Furthermore, how did it become part of the book of Jeremiah? Were these verses, as Artur Weiser, Georg Fohrer, John Bright, Helga Weippert,  6 Hyatt 1984, 249–50; Rudolph 1968, 44 ff., 51–52; Weinfeld 1972, 325, 352; Nicholson 1970,

34, 68–69; and Thiel 1973, 105–15. These scholars transform Mowinckel’s source-critical theory into redaction-critical hypotheses.  7 Thiel 1981, 114.  8 Cf. among others Pohlmann 1978, 184–85; Carroll 1986, passim; McKane 1986/1996, passim; Wanke 1995, 11–17; Schmid 1996, 355–88; Römer 1999, 192–98; Albertz 2001, 236–60; Maier 2002, passim; Schmidt 2008, 36–41; Stipp 2015, 261–97.   9 Compared to LXX, the MT of Jeremiah 7:1–4 is strikingly long (on the details see Bright 1965, 52–58; Weippert 1973, 27–28; and Holladay 1986, 235–36). For instance, the only expression in the Hebrew text of Jeremiah 7:1–2 also present in LXX is “Hear the word of YHWH, all you people of Judah” (‫)שמעו דבר יהוה כל יהודה‬. In Jeremiah 7:4, “This is the temple of YHWH” (‫ )היכל יהוה‬repeats three times in the Hebrew text, but the corresponding passage in LXX stops at two. Scholars interpret these differences in various ways (for details cf. the works cited above). This study, excluding two portions (compared to the corresponding passages in LXX, ‫ הזה‬in Jeremiah 7:10 and ‫ צבאות אלהי ישראל‬in Jeremiah 7:21 seem to be secondary additions), will essentially perform its analysis based on MT, which I consider closer overall to the original (cf. G. Fischer 2005a, 42–46, 288–89; furthermore cf. Weiser 1956, 59–64 and Weippert 1973, 27–28), even though this is not necessarily the position of the majority of recent text-critical approaches (for the various positions regarding the literary relationship between MT and LXX cf. G. Fischer 2007, 31–53; Backhaus and Meyer 2016, 554–61; and Stipp 1995a, 109–10). 10 Cf. Mowinckel 1914, 31; Rudolph 1968, 51–52; Weinfeld 1972, 325, 352; Nicholson 1970, 34, 68–69; Thiel 1973, 105–15; Hyatt 1984, 251–64; McKane 1986, 164–68; Wanke 1995, 87– 91; Albertz 2001, 246; Römer 1999, 191–93; 2000, 407–16; and Schmidt 2008, 176–80; Stipp 2015, 334. 11 Cf. e. g., Weippert 1973, 26–48; Lundbom 1999, 454–59; Maier 2002, 34–42, 368–70; and G. Fischer 2005a, 120–22.

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William L. Holladay, Jack R. Lundbom, Douglas Rawlinson Jones and others have claimed,12 written in a form reflective of the genuine voice of the prophet Jeremiah himself? According to Bright, Jeremiah 7, together with Jeremiah 26:2–6, provides evidence that the prophet Jeremiah preached at the temple of Jerusalem in the autumn of 609 bce.13 If this is so, then the words of Jeremiah 7:2–15 belong to the ipsissima verba of the prophet Jeremiah. Are the words and the deeds that Jeremiah 7:1–15 record really what the prophet Jeremiah spoke and did in the autumn of 609 bce? In order to answer this question, it is first necessary to analyze Jeremiah 7 redaction-critically.14 The text is mainly composed of a prophecy proclaimed by YHWH through Jeremiah to the people of Judah. However, the literary style of the text changes in Jeremiah 7:16. YHWH speaks directly to Jeremiah in the second person singular. Thus, a new literary unit seems to start with Jeremiah 7:16. It can be supposed that Jeremiah 7:1–15 is a separate text completed through a complicated editing process. For example, the word ‫ מקום‬appears five times in this section. At one point it is clearly used as a synonym for the temple (7:12), while elsewhere it indicates the land of Judah (7:14). In the other instances, in Jeremiah 7:3, 6 and 7, the word ‫ מקום‬could hint either at the temple or at the land of Judah. Such differences in meaning make clear that this text was not composed in a single sitting. Rose postulates that the meaning of the Hebrew word ‫ מקום‬gradually expanded from “temple” to include “the land of Judah.”15 It is significant that Jeremiah 7:3–7 and 7:13–15 express different stances on God’s judgment of the Judeans. Jeremiah 7:3–7 speaks from the viewpoint that the outcome of divine judgment remains undetermined, but in Jeremiah 7:13– 15 divine judgment is declared as irreversibly decided.16 The author of Jeremiah 12 Weiser 1956, 61; Fohrer 1967, 194–98; Bright 1965, 58; Weippert 1973, 26–48; Holladay 1986, 240; Lundbom 1999, 454–71; Jones 1992, 142–46. 13 Bright 1965, 58; see also Weiser 1956, 61. According to Thiel (1973, 114), the texts of Jer 7:4, 9a, 10a*, 11*, 12, 14* belong to the ipsissimum verbum. Schmidt (2008, 176–77) follows Thiel’s position. 14 Here it is worth noting the literary and stylistic similarity between Jeremiah 7:1–15 and 26:2–6. Jeremiah 7:1–15 and 26:2–6 are so close that one cannot help but think that one of these units depends literarily on the other. Whether Jeremiah 7:1–15 or Jeremiah 26:2–6 came first is a problem that has not been resolved conclusively by the history of research (cf. Mowinckel 1914, 25–26; Volz 1928, 87–99; Weippert 1973, 28–37; Thiel 1973, 115–19; Holladay 1986, 240; Seidl 1995, 141–79; G. Fischer 2005b, 25–27; Willi-Plein 2007, 163–172; Stipp 2015, 334–47 among others). For example, Mowinckel thinks that the shorter unit of 26:2–6 came first, and that a C source writer in a later period wrote the longer unit of 7:1–15, referencing 26:2–6. On the other hand, Weippert concludes that since 7:1–15 is more logically consistent and uniform, so 26:2–6 constitutes a later summary. Since this problem is beyond the scope of this study, I will not seek to answer it further. 15 Rose 1975, 218. 16 Carroll (1986, 211–12) also takes note of the tense relationship between Jeremiah 7:3–7 and 7:13–15: “The two sections, admonition and destruction, do not belong together” (ibid., 211).

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7:1–12 added the word ‫ האלה‬in v. 13 in order to create a linkage between his own text and Jeremiah 7:13 ff. In the same way, the author of Jeremiah 7:1–12 seems to have incorporated some connecting words and homogeneous styles into v. 12 to accord with v. 14. However, Jeremiah 7:1–12 on the one hand and Jeremiah 7:13–15 on the other indicate both substantially and theologically two completely disparate horizons of expectation. Furthermore, it is intriguing that the Hebrew spellings for Shiloh in v. 12 (‫ )שילו‬and in v. 14 (‫ )שלו‬are different. Based on the aforementioned observations, one may assume that Jeremiah 7:1– 12 derives from a different author than the Jeremiah 7:13–15.17 Here, I would like to bring to attention the phrase in Jeremiah 7:1, “This is the word that came to Jeremiah from YHWH.” This expression is frequently used as an introduction to the editorial layer in the book of Jeremiah (Jer 7:1; 11:1; 18:1; 21:1; 25:1; 30:1; 32:1; 34:1, 8; 35:1; 40:1; 44:1).18 Thiel, influenced by Mowinckel,19 asserts that this expression represents the typical literary style of the Deuteronomistic editorial layer.20 However, the phrase in question, “This is the word that came to PN from YHWH,” does not appear once in Deuteronomy or DtrH.21 In any case, if we compare this introduction to others, its distinctive quality becomes apparent: Jeremiah 1:4 Jeremiah 7:1

‫ויהי דבר יהוה אלי לאמר‬ ‫הדבר אשר היה אל ירמיהו מאת יהוה לאמר‬

According to Mowinckel, Jeremiah 1:4 belongs to the A source and Jeremiah 7:1 to the C source.22 It has been a consensus among scholars that Jeremiah 1:4 is part of Jeremiah’s ipsissima verba.23 As Thiel points out, Jeremiah 1:4 shows the dynamic character of the prophecy as an event by placing ‫ ויהי‬first, while  Holladay 1986, 236. 1973, 106. 19 Of course, Thiel also radically transformed Mowinckel’s approach. For Thiel (1973, 103– 19), C is not a source but rather a redactional layer and should be called D. 20 Thiel 1973, 106; cf. also Mowinckel 1914, 31–32. Thiel (1973, 114–16) supposes that by removing the Deuteronomistic editorial layer from Jeremiah 7:1–15, the prophet Jeremiah’s original words can be reconstructed. According to Thiel (ibid., 114), Jeremiah’s ipsissimum verbum consists of Jer 7:4, 9a, 10a*, 11*, 12 and 14*. However, there is a logical problem with this methodology. First, determining which redaction in Jeremiah 7:1–15 is Deuteronomistic is not, as Thiel supposes, self-evident. Second, there is no guarantee that all of the text remaining after removing those redactions would be Jeremiah’s ipsissimum verbum. On this problem cf. Seidl 1995, 151–52 and Hardmeier 1991, 174–76. 21 For recent discussions and theories related to the conception of the Deuteronomistic History cf. Römer 2005, 33–65; 2006, 45–70. The term “Deuteronomistic History” (DtrH) as employed in this chapter is a somewhat simplified one, indicating the Dtr-influenced historical books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings. 22 Mowinckel 1914, 20–21, 31. 23 Cf. among others Mowinckel 1914, 20; Bright 1965, 6; Rudolph 1968, 4–5; Thiel 1973, 63– 64; Holladay 1986, 20–46; Wanke 1995, 28–30; Lundbom 1999, 230; and Schmidt 2008, 42–49. 17

18 Thiel

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Jeremiah 7:1 places ‫ הדבר‬first and then employs ‫ היה‬as part of a relative clause. This means that the theological focus and the point of emphasis move from the event of the prophecy (Jer 1:4) to the contents of the prophecy (Jer 7:1).24 Between Jeremiah 1:4 and Jeremiah 7:1, the mere existence of this heterogeneity hints at the possibility that each was composed by a different hand. The expression that appears in Jeremiah 7:3, “Reform your ways and your deeds” (‫)היטיבו דרכיכם ומעלליכם‬, is also very intriguing. The combination of the verb ‫ היטיב‬and the noun ‫ דרך‬also appears in Jeremiah 2:33.25 However, even if the literary terms are identical, the contents are completely different. That is to say, Jeremiah 7:3 was written while a possibility for the Judean people to repent and return to God still existed, while that possibility has been eliminated in Jeremiah 2:33.26 Each demonstrates a completely contrary stance regarding the possibility of deliverance. It is difficult to understand how one writer could adopt such different stances concerning important theological problems depending on the occasion. Jeremiah 2:33 resembles Jeremiah 7:13–15 in its irreversibility of divine judgment. Therefore, the hopeless position regarding the repentance of the Judean people seen in Jeremiah 2:33; 4:22; 7:13–15; 13:23,27 etc. and the hopeful possibility of repentance in Jer 7:3; 18:11; 35:15, etc., can only be judged as conflicting. If Jer 2:33 is the closest thing to the prophet Jeremiah’s authentic voice, one should conclude that the contradictory Jeremiah 7:3 comes from a later redactor. Moreover, an illuminating expression appears in Jeremiah 7:6 consisting of the triad of the stranger (‫)גר‬, the widow (‫ )אלמנה‬and the fatherless (‫)יתום‬. An argument against exploitation and for the protection of these three marginalized groups is found in the following references: Deut 10:18; 14:29; 16:11, 14; 24:17, 19, 20, 21; 26:12, 13; 27:19; Ps 146:9; Jer 7:6; 22:3; Ezek 22:7; Zech 7:10; and Mal 3:5. In my view, aside from the two verses in Jeremiah (Jer 7:6; 22:3), the aforementioned verses were all written in the exilic period or later. It is striking that the texts in Isa 1:17, 23; 10:2 speak only about the protection of the fatherless and widows but do not address the problem of the stranger at all.28 In other words, the issue of the ‫ גר‬was not on the agenda of the prophets in the eighth century. Up until at least the eighth century bce in the Southern Kingdom of Judah, serious social consideration had not yet been given to the strangers. Neither can one presume that a large social transformation took place in connection with the problem of the strangers in the time of the prophet Jeremiah (late 24 Thiel

1973, 106. is also a broad consensus that Jeremiah 2:33 derives from the prophet himself; cf. Mowinckel 1914, 20; Bright 1965, 16–18; Rudolph 1968, 22–23; Thiel 1973, 108; Holladay 1986, 109–10; and Herrmann 1990, 118–19). 26 Thiel 1973, 108. 27 On the prophet’s spirit in the book of Jeremiah cf. Namiki 2014, 93–100 (on the interpretation of Jer 13:23 see esp. 97–98). 28 Osumi 1991, 178. 25 There

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seventh to early sixth century bce). Thus, one can reasonably conclude that the reference to the strangers in Jeremiah 7:6 did not originate with the prophet Jeremiah in the preexilic period; rather, it is appropriate to suppose that a postexilic editor incorporated a topic relating to the people who began to return from the Babylonian exile.29 Accordingly, the mention of these three groups suggests that Jeremiah 7:1–12 does not come from Jeremiah himself, but is a secondary text added to the book of Jeremiah. The “strangers” became an archetypal socially marginalized group subject to protection in Yehud beginning in the early Persian era.30 These three socially marginalized groups bring to mind the “piety of the poor” in the book of Jeremiah. The word “needy” (‫ )אביון‬appears in Jeremiah 20:13, which is part of the material referred to as Jeremiah’s “Confessions,”31 and is used as a term designating the prophet Jeremiah. The aforementioned three groups and the “needy one” of Jeremiah 20:13 all represent innocent and oppressed people suffering from unfair persecution. Therefore, we can recognize a theological continuity and similarity between Jeremiah 7:6 and 20:13.32 In the history of the research, the question of the identity of the author of Jeremiah’s Confessions has long been disputed. Broadly speaking, two major hypotheses exist. The first group of researchers interprets the Confessions as a sign of the exhausted Jeremiah’s internal despair and spiritual anguish following the prophecy and proclamation concerning the destruction of Jerusalem.33 However, as Pohlmann pertinently notes, it is difficult to assume that the Confessions were written by the prophet Jeremiah.34 Perhaps the answers become clear when we ask how and by whom this exceedingly personal text, one that even expresses words of resentment against God, was recorded and taken up by the next generation, eventually to be conserved as part of the book of Jeremiah. Why did the prophet Jeremiah feel the need to record these extremely personal “Confessions,” which were not a public message he received from God? By minutely detailing his personal anguish, may he have meant to leave behind proof of his personal spiritual growth? Or did he record it as a model of reference for future generations hat have internal struggles and spiritual doubts? In any case, 29 On

this issue cf. Ro 2018, 38–47.

30 Ibid.

31 The group of Jeremiah’s Confessions is as follows: Jer 11:18–12:6; 15:10–21; 17:12–18; 18:19–23; and 20:7–13. According to Mowinckel’s analysis (1914, 20–21), most of this belongs to the A source. 32 For a discussion of the ‘piety of the poor’ and its characteristics and effects cf. Ro 2018, 165–83. 33 Cf. among others Baumgartner 1917, 86–91; von Rad 1936, 265; Ittmann 1981, 4; Ahuis 1982, 3–8; Stipp 2009, 148–86. 34 Pohlmann 1989, 22–25. Recently Bezzel (2007, 53) has also reconfirmed this position: “It should be assumed that there is a span of several centuries between the base layer of ‘Confessions’ and the historical Jeremiah” (author’s translation).

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this kind of individualistic way of thinking would have been foreign to ancient Israelite society.35 Not only that, but one should not forget that there exists a close thematic and lexical relationship between the Confessions and the eschatological prophetic texts of the postexilic period.36 In light of the aforementioned problems, scholars who adopt the second hypothesis argue that the Confessions were written in the postexilic period and later incorporated into the book of Jeremiah. Researchers have recognized that within the first-person speech of Jeremiah, the Confessions represent a thematically and formally a secondary layer of tradition since “nowhere else in the prophetic tradition are the form and content so close to those psalms which are called ‘Lamentation of the Individual.’”37 According to this hypothesis, the relevant editors responded to questions about the way in which Jeremiah harbored doubts concerning YHWH’s unfathomable divine providence and how he ultimately restored his faith towards YHWH by incorporating the Confessions.38 Furthermore, the postexilic editors probably tried to express in theological terms the way that God saved Jeremiah and not his adversaries at the time of destruction.39 In this way, through the Confessions, later editors reconstructed Jeremiah from an increasingly eschatological point of view to reflect their religious ideals, focusing on the desirable order of the future brought about by YHWH and presumably aiming to solidify a worldview based on their own theology.40 Concerning the two hypotheses surrounding the origin of the Confessions, the distinctiveness of this group of texts is more adequately explained by the latter hypothesis, so I will adopt the view that the Confessions do not stem from the prophet Jeremiah but rather were added by postexilic editors.41 In the final Confession in Jeremiah 20:7–13, Jeremiah is regarded as righteous (‫צדיק‬, Jer 20:12) and thus confesses to being persecuted. In the preceding passage (Jer 20:1–6), Jeremiah debates with a representative of the temple of Jerusalem, the high-ranking priest Pashhur. Upon hearing Jeremiah’s prophecy, Pashhur beats Jeremiah and puts him in the stocks. Thus, in the following Confession, we should note that Jeremiah clearly portrays himself as “needy”: “Sing to YHWH; praise YHWH! For he has delivered the life of the needy (‫ )אביון‬from the hands of evildoers” (Jer 20:13). 35 On

this point see Pohlmann 1989, 22–25. 43–100. 37 Ibid., 3 (author’s translation). 38 Jeremiah 20:11–13. 39 Jeremiah 39 ff. 40 Pohlmann 1989, 101–11 and Bak 1990, 221–23. 41 The postexilic editors’ self-identification with Jeremiah is not individualism since it is not an autobiographical record like Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. It is a typical postexilic phenomenon of the idealization of the unjustly persecuted righteous (cf. Pss 34; 37; 62; 73; etc). For further arguments in support of the postexilic dating of “Confessions” in the book of Jeremiah cf. Bezzel 2007, passim, but in particular 53–54. 36 Ibid.,

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As already stated, I consider Jeremiah’s Confessions a text that came into existence in the postexilic period. In the framework of the Confessions, “Jeremiah” speaks from an eschatological worldview as a devout person attempting to rise up from persecution.42 The author of Jeremiah 20:7–13 tries to establish a parallel between his own situation and the situation of persecution faced by Jeremiah. He does this by tying together the immediately preceding text (Jer 20:1–6) and the text of the Confessions. Like Jeremiah, the author faces a situation of persecution that derives from a discrepancy in theological viewpoints.43 The author was also trying to show that the persecutors were located among the ruling class of the temple of Jerusalem.44 Furthermore, he wanted to make it clear that the reason for opposing the ruling class of the temple of Jerusalem was their false prophecies (‫להם בשקר נבאת‬, Jer 20:6).45 The theological structure of Jeremiah 20:1–13 bears a surprising resemblance to Jeremiah 7:1–12. The analogy between the three groups – the stranger (‫)גר‬, the widow (‫ )אלמנה‬and the fatherless (‫)יתום‬ – in Jeremiah 7:6 on the one hand and the “needy” (‫ )אביון‬in Jeremiah 20:13 on the other has already been mentioned. In addition, Jeremiah 7:1–12 presents a critical and negative view of the temple of Jerusalem and the priests in charge of that temple, as does Jeremiah 20:1–13.46 Of course, it is difficult to answer the question of whether texts such as Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:1–13 reflect a negative view of the temple itself or criticism of a wrong attitude towards the temple.47 At any rate, according to Jere42 Pohlmann

1989, 108–09. the theological discrepancy between the postexilic authors oriented toward the ‘piety of the poor’ and their adversaries cf. Ro 2018, 165–83. 44 On the theological tendency hostile to the temple of Jerusalem as well as to its priestly leadership in the texts based on the ‘piety of the poor,’ cf. Ro 2018, 165–74. 45 This recalls the emphasis on the correct verbal practice in some ‘psalms of the poor’ (cf. Pss 34:14; 37:30; 40:5; and 62:5). Furthermore, the subject of “falsehood” (‫ )שקר‬related to prophecy appears in the following verses in the book of Jeremiah: Jer 5:31; 6:13; 7:4, 8, 9; 8:10; 14:14; 20:6; 23:14, 25, 26, 32; 27:10, 14, 15, 16; 28:15; 29:9, 31. 46 This is particularly striking because the temple of Jerusalem is a frequent topic throughout the book of Jeremiah, and the temple itself is not usually judged negatively in the book of Jeremiah. Aside from the aforementioned references in Jeremiah 20:1–13 and Jeremiah 7:1–12 (plus its parallel text of Jer 26:1–19), which reflect a critical stance against the temple of Jerusalem as well as against its priestly leadership, the temple of Jerusalem is found in the following references: ‫היכל‬ – Jer 24:1; 50:28; 51:11; ‫בית יהוה‬ – Jer 17:26; 19:14; 23:11; 27:16, 18, 21; 28:1, 3, 5, 6; 29:26; 33:11; 35:2, 4; 36:5, 6, 8, 10; 38:14; 41:5; 51:51; 52:13, 17, 20; ‫מקדש‬ – Jer 17:12; 51:51. 47 Many scholars claim that the passage in Jeremiah 7:4 does not call into question the temple but, rather, misguided expectations regarding the unconditional guarantee of safety in warfare offered by YHWH’s presence at the sanctuary (cf. Carroll 1986, 209–10; Seidl 1995, 153–54; Maier 2002, 133–35 among others). It should be acknowledged that Jeremiah 7:4 is ambiguous on this point and thus can be interpreted in different ways. However, I assume that the two aspects (the temple itself and the expectation placed on it) cannot be so easily distinguished from each other in the worldview of ancient Judeans. They seem to be two sides of the same coin. From where did the expectation regarding military safety derive? High regard for the temple includes YHWH’s special protection for the temple and vice versa. One cannot 43 On

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miah 7:4 and 7:8, the Judean people believe the false prophecies (‫ )דברי השקר‬related to the temple of Jerusalem. In short, in both Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:1–13 Jeremiah’s criticism of the priestly leadership of the temple of Jerusalem is due to the false prophecy that the priests preach. One cannot dismiss this continuity and resemblance as a mere coincidence. Therefore, it should be assumed that the authors of Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:1–13 belong to the same theological group or orientation, active in the same way in the postexilic period. From the above observation, one can conclude that Jeremiah 7:1–12 did not originate with the prophet Jeremiah himself, but is affiliated with an editor from a later period.

3. Does Jeremiah 7:1–12 Belong to a Deuteronomistic Editorial Layer? It is oversimplistic to conclude that any text where Deuteronomistic literary style and expressions appear can be categorized as belonging to a Deuteronomistic editorial layer. As Pohlmann points out, since the Deuteronomistic literary style and expressions are very easy to imitate,48 concluding from these alone that the text was written in a Deuteronomistic spirit and ideology is too rash. Accordingly, when determining whether an editorial layer is “Deuteronomistic” or not, interpreters should base conclusions not only on literary style and expressions but also on theology, ideology and worldview in order to form a comprehensive standard.49 Bearing this in mind, let us reconsider Jeremiah 7:1–12. What kind of theology and ideology does this redactional text reflect? As noted above, many scholars claim that the text displays Deuteronomistic theology and ideology. Thiel claims that Jeremiah 7:3 and 7:5, which include the hiphil form of ‫יטב‬, belong to a Deuteronomistic editorial layer.50 According to Thiel, the prophet Jeremiah paradoxically used the hiphil form of ‫ יטב‬in Jeremiah 2:33 in order to point out the sins of Judah, and the Deuteronomistic editor creatively changed the usage of the word in Jeremiah 7 into a warning for the sake of repentance. As stated above, since a clear discontinuity does indeed exist in the meaning of the hiphil form of ‫ יטב‬between Jeremiah 2:33 and Jeremiah 7:3, 5, it can be separate one side from the other. Why did the author of Jeremiah 7:1–12 let Jeremiah call into question expectations regarding the military safety offered by YHWH’s presence at the sanctuary? This is because his estimation of the temple itself did not correspond to expectations. The attempt to separate two aspects that are inseparable elements of the same religious worldview could be considered as too modern. 48 Pohlmann 1978, 16–18. 49 Cf. Schmid 1996, 347–49; Maier 2002, 34–47; Kugler 1999, 127–44; and Stipp 2015, 328–32. 50 Thiel 1973, 108.

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concluded that the texts come from different hands. However, can one conclude from this that Jeremiah 7:3, 5 is Deuteronomistic? The hiphil form of ‫ יטב‬appears ten times in Deuteronomy (Deut 5:28; 8:16; 9:21; 13:15; 17:4; 18:17; 19:18; 27:8; 28:63; 30:5) as well as ten times in DtrH (Josh 24:20; Judg 17:13; 19:22; 1 Sam 2:32; 16:17; 20:13; 25:31; 1 Kgs 1:47; 2 Kgs 9:30; 11:18). However, not a single usage of the hiphil form of ‫ יטב‬in Deuteronomy or DtrH carries the same meaning as in Jeremiah 7:3, 5 of “to reform/ change (one’s ways and deeds).” Furthermore, the combination of the Hebrew words ‫( דרך‬way) and ‫מעלל‬ (deed) used in Jeremiah 7:3, 5 appears nowhere in Deuteronomy or DtrH except in Judges 2:19. The expression there is, in any case, quite distant from the expression in Jeremiah 7:3, 5. First, in Jeremiah 7:3, 5, the form is such that ‫ דרך‬comes first, followed by ‫מעלל‬, but this order is reversed in Judges 2:19. In the latter, ‫ מעלל‬and ‫ דרך‬are combined with the preposition ‫מן‬, but no such wording appear in the book of Jeremiah. Here, the combination of ‫ דרך‬and ‫ מעלל‬is frequently seen in poetic oracle passages such as Jeremiah 4:18; 17:10; and 23:22. This expression also appears often in prose sermon passages such as Jeremiah 7:3, 5; 18:11; 25:5; 26:3; and 35:15. It therefore seems appropriate to conclude that the aforementioned expressions (the hiphil form of ‫ יטב‬and the combination of ‫דרך‬ and ‫)מעלל‬, rather than being a Deuteronomistic redaction, originated through reciprocal influences between editorial layers within the book of Jeremiah.51 51 It is also worth considering the qal form of ‫“( נטע‬to plant”), which occurs thirteen times in the book of Jeremiah (Jer 2:21; 11:17; 12:2; 18:9; 24:6; 29:5, 28; 31:5, 28; 32:41; 35:7; 42:10; and 45:4). Of these occurrences, nine describe God as planting the Judean people (Jer 2:21; 11:17; 12:2; 18:9; 24:6; 31:28; 32:41; 42:10; and 45:4). On the other hand, the qal form of ‫ נטע‬appears seven times in Deuteronomy and DtrH (Deut 6:11; 16:21; 20:6; 28:30; Josh 24:13; 2 Sam 7:10; 2 Kgs 19:29). However, the only instance among these references in which this verb is used to describe God as planting the Judean people is in 2  Samuel 7:10. Therefore, when the qal form of ‫ נטע‬is used with reference to God planting the people, rather than regarding it as “Deuteronomistic”, the correct conclusion would be to call it “Jeremianic” or “Deutero-Jeremianic.” In particular, in Jeremiah 12:2 (part of the “Confessions”), after the phrase stating that the people have been planted (‫ )נטעתם‬by God, a theological theme is found that God is near in the people’s mouths but far from their hearts (‫)רחוק מכליותיהם‬. Here, the motif of God planting the people joins with the theme of the people’s hearts. This rare combination also appears in Jeremiah 32:40–41. These verses are usually regarded as Deuteronomistic, but just as in Jeremiah 12:2, the combination of the motifs of the people’s hearts and God planting people appears. The word ‫ כליה‬in Jeremiah 12:2 literally means “kidney”, but it figuratively expresses the innermost domain of the human spirit. In the Hebrew Bible, it is frequently used as a synonym for and juxtaposed to the words ‫ לב‬and ‫“( לבב‬heart”) (cf. Pss 7:10; 26:2; 73:21; Jer 11:20; 17:10; 20:12). On the other hand, as noted above, the only passage in DtrH describing God planting the people using the qal form of ‫ נטע‬is 2  Samuel 7:10. However, the combination of the theological motifs of the people’s hearts and of God planting people cannot be observed in that text. Therefore, the use of the qal form of ‫ נטע‬in Jeremiah 32:40–41 (part of the prose sermons) is much closer to Jeremiah 12:2, which is part of Jeremiah’s “Confessions,” than to 2 Samuel 7:10, which is a part of DtrH. It is also possible to regard Jeremiah 32:40–41 as a response to Jeremiah 12:2.

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Here a problem surrounding the research on possible Deuteronomistic editing in the book of Jeremiah comes to light. There is no consensus among scholars regarding what sort of standards should be used to determine whether words and expressions are “Deuteronomistic.” For example, Stulman collects 92 “Deuteronomistic” expressions from the C source in the book of Jeremiah and classifies them into four categories as follows: 1. C Diction documented more than once in DtrH 2. C Diction documented once in DtrH 3. C Diction undocumented in DtrH but documented in Deuteronomy 4. C Diction undocumented in DtrH and in Deuteronomy52

According to the criteria Stulman establishes, Jeremiah 7:1–12 contains thirteen typical “Deuteronomistic” phrases. However, when one considers these expressions and phrases carefully, the ambiguity and vagueness of their “Deuteronomistic” character become apparent. In particular, categories 2 and 4 are logically problematic. Phrases found more frequently in the book of Jeremiah than in DtrH (category 2) cannot be considered as “Deuteronomistic” but should instead be considered as “Jeremianic” or “Deutero-Jeremianic.”53 If this is the case, then it is clear that the expressions and phrases not appearing at all in DtrH or in Deuteronomy (category 4) cannot be regarded as “Deuteronomistic” either. In this way, categories 2 and 4 are located in the gray area between “Deuteronomistic” and “Jeremianic” and are, therefore, not persuasively “Deuteronomistic.” Moreover, the logical presuppositions of categories 1 and 3 are also questionable. If words and expressions found in Deuteronomy or in DtrH also appear in the book of Jeremiah, are these texts necessarily “Deuteronomistic”? As already stated above, some words and expressions appear more frequently in the book of Jeremiah than in DtrH. Should these be called “Deuteronomistic” or “Jeremianic”? When words are used with completely different meanings in the book of Jeremiah and in DtrH, should the corresponding parts in the book of Jeremiah be called “Deuteronomistic” merely because they appear in both places? Many researchers have overlooked these questions, but in truth, they are fundamental to investigating the existence of Deuteronomistic editorial layers in the book of Jeremiah. The triad of the stranger, the widow and the fatherless in Jeremiah 7:6 (no. 58 of Stulman’s list; category 3) certainly also appear in Deuteronomy, yet, as already stated, it would be too hasty to conclude from this alone that the verse is “Deuteronomistic.”54 These three groups appear eleven times in Deuteronomy but never in DtrH. 52 Stulman

1986, 33–44. 2003, 17–18. 54 Cf. Jones 1992, 144. 53 Sharp

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Furthermore, comparison of the use of these expressions in Deuteronomy to their use in the book of Jeremiah shows that the way the three groups are discussed in the book of Jeremiah does not correspond to the connotations of the same groups in Deuteronomy. In Deuteronomy, the existence of this triad does not extend beyond socially weak and poor persons whose lives must be protected. However, as previously mentioned, the way the triad is discussed in the book of Jeremiah (Jer 7:6 and 22:3) includes a sense of righteous people unfairly persecuted by the wicked, such as in the mention of the “needy” (‫ )אביון‬in Jeremiah 20:13.55 This can also be seen in the expression “do not shed innocent blood” (‫ )ודם נקי אל תשפכו‬in Jeremiah 7:6 and 22:3. In the Hebrew Bible, the expression “to shed innocent blood” – in other words, the combination of the verb ‫ שפך‬and the noun ‫ דם‬plus the adjective ‫( נקי‬no. 13 of Stulman’s list; category 1) – almost always describes the victimhood of innocent people under unjust persecution. This combination appears three times throughout Deuteronomy and DtrH (Deut 19:10; 2 Kgs 21:16; 24:4). However, the triad of the stranger, the widow and the fatherless are never associated with the aforementioned phrase in Deuteronomy or DtrH. The theological connotations of the three groups in Deuteronomy and DtrH are quite different from the corresponding groups in the book of Jeremiah. Even though the adjective ‫ נקי‬is lacking, the combination of ‫ שפך‬and ‫ דם‬in Psalms 79:10, signifying the sacrifice of God’s servants, is revealing. In Psalms 9:13 as well, the righteous “poor” (‫ )עניים‬and their “blood” (‫ )דמים‬are expressed in combination (‫)כי דרש דמים אותם זכר לא שכח צעקת עניים‬. This kind of theological nuance cannot be seen at all in the three groups in Deuteronomy or DtrH. Therefore, one can conclude that the mention of the triad of the stranger, the widow and the fatherless in Jeremiah 7:6 is not particularly “Deuteronomistic.” Notably, the phrase “to follow after other gods” (‫)ואחרי אלהים אחרים … תלכו‬56 in Jeremiah 7:6, 9 frequently appears in Deuteronomy and DtrH (Deut 6:14; 8:19; 11:28; 13:3; 28:14; Judg 2:12; 19:1; 1 Kgs 11:10; 2 Kgs 17:15, etc.). However, this alone is insufficient to conclude from this phrase that the relevant verses are “Deuteronomistic” because similar phrases appear in the poetic oracles in the book of Jeremiah (cf. Jer 2:5, 23; 5:19, etc.). As with the aforementioned combination of ‫ דרך‬and ‫מעלל‬, it is also possible to draw the conclusion that the expression “to follow after other gods” was formed by internal influences among 55 This theological connotation of the triad is also found in Psalms 94:6 and 146:9. In Psalm 94 the widow, the stranger and the fatherless are delineated as a part of God’s people (‫עמך‬: Ps 94:5) and possession (‫נחלתך‬: Ps 94:5). In Psalms 146:9, the three groups are juxtaposed as opposing terms to the wicked (‫)רשעים‬. In sharp contrast, in Psalms 68:6 the two groups (the fatherless and the widow, here the stranger is not mentioned) are no more than the socially weak and economically poor. Furthermore, the fatherless in Psalms 82:3 (here the widow and the stranger are not mentioned) is nothing but an object of special protection as a marginalized group. On this issue cf. Ro 2018, 134–35. 56 The phrase is no. 3 in category 1 of Stulman’s list.

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editorial layers within the book of Jeremiah. However, as one cannot conclusively answer the question of whether or not the verses in question are “Deuteronomistic” from this alone, the analysis should proceed bearing in mind that the phrase itself cannot provide the final answer. Expression no. 4 in Stulman’s list is as follows:57 “the land/place/city/inheritance which I gave to you/your fathers/your descendants”58 (… ‫המקום‬/‫הארץ‬ ‫לך‬/‫לכם‬/‫לזרעך‬/‫נתן לאבותיכם‬/‫)נתתי‬. This phrase appears very frequently (more than 80 times) in the Hebrew Bible and is also found outside Deuteronomy as well as DtrH.59 Therefore, it cannot be considered as particularly “Deuteronomistic”60 but rather as belonging to the oldest layer of historical tradition within the framework of the Hebrew Bible.61 Now we turn to no. 67 of Stulman’s list (category 3): “(the site that YHWH will choose) to make his name dwell there” (‫)לשכן שמו שם‬. This expression appears in Jeremiah 7:12. Although Stulman concludes that this phrase is “Deuteronomic,”62 significant theological differences emerge when comparing the expression in Jeremiah 7:12 and the corresponding phrases in Deuteronomy (Deut 12:11; 14:23; 16:2, 6, 11; 26:2). The author of Jeremiah 7:12 seems to have used a similar style and expression to the relevant texts of Deuteronomy, but the message he wanted to communicate is fundamentally different in nature from that in Deuteronomy. According to Jeremiah 7:12, the place where God originally put his name is not the temple of Jerusalem but rather the holy place in Shiloh. The text notes that even the holy place in Shiloh was destroyed due to the sins of the Israelite people. Thus, the temple of Jerusalem, as the successor to the sanctuary in Shiloh, is also exposed to the same serious danger. In other words, Deuteronomy employs this expression in order to emphasize the significance and value of the temple in Jerusalem, while Jeremiah 7:12 uses the phrase in order to downplay and relativize the importance of the Jerusalem temple. As already mentioned, when determining whether or not a text is “Deuteronomistic,” it does not suffice to examine only the literary style or expressions of the text. The most reliable criteria concern the theology, ideology and worldview of the text.63 The theological viewpoint and evaluation of the temple in Jerusalem could fit such criteria. In the case of Jeremiah 7:12, superficial words or phrases are similar to corresponding portions of Deuteronomy. However, the content and the worldview of the texts are fundamentally different. Jeremiah 57 Stulman

1986, 33. 7:7. 59 Cf. Gen 15:7; 24:7; Exod 20:12; Lev 14:34; Num 14:8; Ezek 20:42, etc. 60 Jones 1992, 144. 61 Holladay 1986, 243–44. 62 Stulman 1986, 42. 63 Cf. Schmid 1996, 346–49. 58 Jeremiah

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7:12 relativizes the theological significance of the temple in Jerusalem, which the corresponding portions of Deuteronomy strongly emphasize. In fact, the author of Jeremiah 7:12 attacks the Deuteronomistic viewpoint concerning the temple of Jerusalem by using Deuteronomistic diction. This theological criticism of the Jerusalem temple in Jeremiah 7:1–12 will be examined in more detail below. The expression “this house, which is called by my name” (‫הבית הזה אשר נקרא‬ ‫ )שמי עליו‬in Jer 7:10, 11, 14 does not appear once throughout Deuteronomy. A similar phrase is found only twice in DtrH (2 Sam 6:2; 1 Kgs 8:43). Furthermore, the name theology articulated in the aforementioned verses of the book of Jeremiah seems to be quite different from its theological sense in Deuteronomy.64 Despite these arguments, Thiel declares these verses “Deuteronomistic.”65 The main reason for his conclusion is that the same expression appears in verses such as Jeremiah 32:34 and 34:15 that Thiel determines to belong to a Deuteronomistic editorial layer. However, as Sharp points out, this is nothing more than a circularly reasoned tautology.66 Therefore, the phrase “this house, which is called by my name” (‫ )הבית הזה אשר נקרא שמי עליו‬in Jer 7:10, 11, 14 should be designated as “Deutero-Jeremianic”67 rather than as “Deuteronomistic.” To conclude our examination, none of the aforementioned examples of “Deuteronomistic” phrases found in Jeremiah 7:1–12 can be confidently established as “Deuteronomistic.” The observations so far do not imply that there is no “Deuteronomistic editorial layer” at all in the book of Jeremiah. Of course, there are some Deuteronomistic elements found in the book of Jeremiah. For example, as Römer observes, there are strong stylistic and theological parallels between Jeremiah 52 and 2 Kings 24–25, and thus Jeremiah 52 seems to be a Deuteronomistic text.68 Römer’s thesis that the book of Jeremiah was edited by Deuteronomistic redactors as a supplement to the existing Deuteronomistic “library”69 is insightful at many points. I would like to make clear that the assertion of this article regarding the lack of a Deuteronomistic layer is mainly focused on Jeremiah 7:1–12. It seems probable that the current book of Jeremiah underwent at least three different redactions: a Deuteronomistic redaction, a golah-oriented redaction and a “piety-of-the-poor” oriented redaction.70 64 Cf.

Jones 1992, 143. 1973, 111. 66 Sharp 2003, 22: “Instead of referring to the absence of the term as such in Deuteronomy and the DtrH, [Thiel] chooses to say it occurs without exception in D texts (in Jeremiah!). His assertion that ‘die Formel ist characteristisch für D’(‘the formulation is characteristic of D’) is qualified only to the extent that he acknowledges it to be a unique coinage of D in Jeremiah.” 67 Ibid., 17–18. 68 Römer 2009, 171–72. 69 Ibid, 168–79. 70 The redaction-historical layers of the book of Jeremiah can be delineated as follows: The layer of Deuteronomistic redaction was incorporated around the end of sixth century bce and the beginning of fifth century bce. It includes Jer 1:1–6:11; 7:13–8:3; 11:1–14; 18:1–12; 25:1–11a; 34:1–22; 35:1–11, 16–19; 46:2–52:34*. Thereafter, the layer of the golah-oriented 65 Thiel

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The most compelling evidence for the non-Deuteronomistic character of Jeremiah 7:1–12 is its central theological theme, namely, the false faith of the Judean people in the temple of Jerusalem. As previously mentioned, Jeremiah 7:1–12 passes extremely harsh judgment on the temple of Jerusalem and its priestly leadership.71 As stated above, the temple of Jerusalem is a favorite theme throughout the book of Jeremiah. The previous section concluded that Jeremiah 20:1–13 and Jeremiah 7:1–12 (plus its parallel in Jer 26:1–19) indicate extremely critical views of the temple of Jerusalem. However, such a negative notion concerning the temple of Jerusalem is very rare in other references in the book of Jeremiah.72 For example, the lexeme ‫ היכל‬in Jeremiah 24:1 is employed in order to set the spatial background of the vision. It reveals that the two baskets of figs are offerings consecrated to the temple. The lexeme is used in a theologically neutral sense and does not contain any negative connotations regarding the temple of Jerusalem. The same lexeme also appears in Jeremiah 50:28 and 51:11:73 Listen! Fugitives and refugees from the land of Babylon are coming to declare in Zion the vengeance of YHWH our God, vengeance for his temple (‫)היכלו‬. (Jer 50:28) Sharpen the arrows! Fill the quivers! YHWH has stirred up the spirit of the kings of the Medes, because his purpose concerning Babylon is to destroy it, for that is the vengeance of YHWH, vengeance for his temple (‫)היכלו‬. (Jer 51:11)

These passages depict YHWH as taking revenge on Babylon for the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem. In other words, YHWH highly values the temple of Jerusalem and thus seeks revenge on Babylon for the sin of destroying it. Therefore, the theological perspective concerning the temple of Jerusalem in the passages above should be viewed as much more positive than the perspectives of Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:1–13. The phrase ‫ בית יהוה‬is also used with a theologically positive nuance in Jeremiah 17:26. Furthermore, in most of the remaining references in the book of Jeremiah, the same wording is employed to indicate either a theologically neutral or a positive meaning.74 The lexeme ‫ מקדש‬in Jeremiah 17:12 and 51:51 redaction was inserted throughout the fifth century bce including Jer 21:1–10; 24:1–10; 32:16– 44; 37:1–44:30*. Around the fourth century bce a piety-of-the-poor-oriented redaction was added (Jer 6:13–14; 7:1–12; 8:10; 11:18–12:6; 15:10–21; 17:12–18; 18:19–23; 20:1–13; 22:3–5; 26:1–19; 32:40–41). 71 On the anti-temple and anti-sacerdotal theological tendency in the texts based on the ‘piety of the poor,’ cf. Ro 2018, 165–74. 72 On this issue, see note 46 above. 73 Scholars are divided over whether Jeremiah 50–51 derived from the prophet Jeremiah himself or from later editors. For detailed arguments on both sides cf. Keown et al. 1995, 357–64. 74 For theologically neutral meanings (in other words, the temple of Jerusalem is mentioned merely as spatial background or in descriptive passages where there is no clear theological judgment on the temple) cf. Jer 19:14; 27:16, 18, 21; 28:1, 3, 5, 6; 29:26; 35:2, 4; 38:14; 41:5; 52:13, 17,

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also indicates a theologically positive connotation. The temple of Jerusalem is portrayed as a sacred place of divine presence in Jeremiah 17:12.75 Although the same lexeme (‫ )מקדשי‬is used in Jeremiah 51:51 in order to refer to a kind of defilement of the temple caused by the entrance of strangers, the temple itself is regarded positively, as such a sacred place that no stranger is supposed to enter. In the book of Jeremiah in general, Jerusalem and its inhabitants are often severely criticized and sometimes even blamed,76 but the temple of Jerusalem itself is often evaluated much more positively. Based on the observations made thus far, it can be concluded that the analogy between Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:1–13 regarding their views on the temple of Jerusalem is rather an exceptional phenomenon in the book of Jeremiah and thus deserves special attention. In Jeremiah 7:4, 8, Jeremiah declares that the people of Judah believe the false prophecies related to the temple of Jerusalem. Jeremiah 7:10 refers to the words of the Judean people, “we are saved.” Appearing here is the verb ‫ נצלנו‬is the niphal form of ‫נצל‬,77 which appears fifteen times78 in the Hebrew Bible and often refers to a special kind of salvation that comes from God.79 Jeremiah 7:10 is the only place in the book of Jeremiah where the niphal form of ‫ נצל‬is used.80 The author of Jeremiah 7:4, 10 harshly refutes the outlook of DtrH concerning the temple of Jerusalem. In DtrH, the editors reveal a strong theological interest 20. (Although the three references in Jeremiah 52 mention the destruction of the temple, the temple itself is not criticized. The three references are factual rather than theological and thus can be judged as neutral). For theologically positive meanings cf. Jeremiah 33:11 (thanksgiving offerings to the temple as a symbol of restoration); 36:5, 6, 8, 10 (the temple as the place for the proclamation of a divine message); 51:51 (the temple as a holy place: ‫)מקדשי בית יהוה‬. Jeremiah 23:11 is an exception in which the temple and its priestly leadership are judged negatively (cf. Hebrew terms such as ‫ חנפו‬and ‫)רעתם‬. 75 It is worth noting that Schmidt observes a contrast between Jeremiah 7:4 on the one hand and Jeremiah 17:12 on the other: “It is difficult to harmonize V. 12 with the temple sermon, which urges listeners not to trust in the Temple (7:4) and is consequently hardly Jeremianic. In particular, V. 13 changes Jeremiah’s words. So V. 12f forms a counterweight to, if not a form of restriction of, Jeremiah’s insights.” (Schmidt 2008, 303; author’s translation). Based on the aforementioned observations, I disagree with Schmidt’s position that the criticism of the temple (Jer 7:1–15) derives from the prophet Jeremiah himself. However, Schmidt’s insight helps one to understand that there are references in the book of Jeremiah that contradict Jeremiah 7:4 in their views concerning the temple. 76 Cf. among others Jer 2:2; 4:4, 14; 5:1; 6:1, 6; 7:17, 34; 8:5; 11:9, 12; 13:9, 27; 14:16; 19:7; 44:6; and 52:3. 77 On the hiphil form of ‫ נצל‬found in one of the ‘psalms of the poor’ (Ps 34) cf. Ro 2018, 140. 78 Gen 32:31; Deut 23:16; 2 Kgs 19:11; Ps 33:16, 69:15; Prov 6:3, 5; Isa 20:6, 37:11; Jer 7:10; Ezek 14:16, 18; Amos 3:12; Mic 4:10; and Hab 2:9. 79 Exceptionally, in Deut 23:16; Prov 6:3, 5; and Isa 20:6, the niphal form of ‫ נצל‬does not refer to special salvation which comes from God. 80 Seidl claims at this point that Jeremiah 7:10 is “Deuteronomistic,” since the same niphal form of ‫ נצל‬appears there just as in Deuteronomy 23:16 and 2 Kings 19:11 (Seidl 1995, 156–57). However, this claim is based on a superficial observation. The niphal form of ‫ נצל‬in Jeremiah 7:10 is employed in a completely different context than in Deuteronomy 23:16 and 2 Kings 19:11. On this issue cf. the observations below.

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in the temple of Jerusalem as well as in the Davidic dynasty and highly esteem their salvific value (1 Kgs 8:33–50). According to DtrH, the Judean kingdom was able to escape many dangers due to the divine promise to the Davidic dynasty and the temple of Jerusalem. This was so when the unified kingdom of the Davidic dynasty was exposed to the danger of ruin (1 Kgs 11:12–13, 32–39). The promise continued when the kingdom was divided and war broke out between the two resulting kingdoms (1 Kgs 15:4; 2 Kgs 8:19). Of course, DtrH ends with the destruction of the temple (2 Kgs 25:8–17). However, the destruction was described in a concise style without any theological comment.81 It hardly means a repudiation of the temple’s theological value or salvific function. It only intends to delineate the outcome of Judah’s grave sin as God’s rigorous punishment. The salvific function of the temple of Jerusalem is noted especially clearly in 2 Kings 18–19.82 By the Assyrian king Sennacherib’s command, the Rabshakeh83 went up from Lachish to attack Jerusalem with a large army. When the Rabshakeh came to Jerusalem, he tyrannically forced Jerusalem’s delegation to surrender.84 Thereafter, Sennacherib again sent messengers to Jerusalem to speak as follows: Thus shall you speak to King Hezekiah of Judah, saying, Do not let your God on whom you rely deceive you by promising that Jerusalem will not be given into the hand of the king of Assyria. See, you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all lands, destroying them utterly. And shall you be delivered (‫( ?)ואתה תנצל‬2 Kgs 19:10–11)

Here, the niphal form of ‫ נצל‬is used with an ironic tone to express the impossibility of salvation through God. However, according to DtrH, YHWH thereafter dispatched Isaiah to King Hezekiah and had him speak the following prophecy: This is the word that YHWH has spoken concerning him: She despises you, she scorns you – virgin daughter Zion; she tosses her head – behind your back, daughter Jerusalem. … 81 On this issue, see also the closing remarks of “5. History and Interpretation in 2 Kings 24 and 25” in Schmid’s article, above. 82 See also the parallel texts of 2  Chronicles 32 and Isaiah 36–37. 83 ‘Rabshakeh’ is the title of a high-ranking Assyrian official. However, the biblical passage seems to regard it as personal name. 84 The speech of the Rabshakeh in 2 Kings 18 is reminiscent of Jeremiah’s preaching in Jeremiah 7. For example, the qal form of ‫( בטח‬to trust) that appears in Jeremiah 7:4, 8 is found six times in the Rabshakeh’s speech (2 Kgs 18:19, 20, 21 [2x], 22, 24). According to Hardmeier, the Rabshakeh’s speech was written by a Deuteronomistic editor hostile to Jeremiah’s theology (Hardmeier 1990b, 321–92; cf. also Stipp 1995b, 232–33). In other words, Hardmeier supposes that Rabshakeh’s speech is a kind of parody of Jeremianic theology by a Deuteronomistic editor. It is clear that the pro-Babylonian position in Jeremiah 7 and the anti-Assyrian perspective of 2 Kings 18–19 are somewhat contradictory to each other. However, the question of which of the two texts (Jer 7:1–12 or 2 Kgs 18–19) was written first must be investigated more closely. In my view, it is more probable that 2 Kings 18–19 was composed earlier than Jeremiah 7:1–12.

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For from Jerusalem a remnant shall go out, and from Mount Zion a band of survivors. The zeal of YHWH of hosts shall do this. (2 Kgs 19:21, 31)

According to the Deuteronomistic presentation, on the night this prophecy was given, God’s messenger struck down 185,000 soldiers in the Assyrian camp (2 Kgs 19:35).85 In the Deuteronomistic view, YHWH actualized the niphal form of ‫“( נצל‬to be delivered”) and saved the people, contradicting Sennacherib’s disparaging use of the word to his messengers. YHWH showed the sincerity of his promise to the temple of Jerusalem and the Davidic dynasty. In this way, the Deuteronomistic editor consistently emphasizes the salvific effects of the temple of Jerusalem and expresses the view that a correctly practiced rite in the temple of Jerusalem is the only way to surmount the crises of the exilic period and to attain salvation from them. The temple of Jerusalem itself is the theological heart of DtrH, and one can also say that the temple of Jerusalem is the foundation for a new beginning for the Deuteronomistic editor.86 This theological focus and the value of the temple of Jerusalem for attaining divine salvation in DtrH are entirely negated in Jeremiah 7:1–12 (particularly in Jer 7:4, 10). The aforementioned prophecy in 2 Kings 19:21, 31 includes words that one could expect the very priests that Jeremiah opposed to have spoken. The author of Jeremiah 7:1–12 seems to declare the aforementioned prophecy on the inviolability of the temple in 2 Kings 19:21, 31 to be “deceptive words” (‫ ;דברי השקר‬cf. Jer 7:4). As far as the author of Jeremiah 7:1–12 is concerned, the temple of Jerusalem is not a theological focal point, nor does it hold any efficacy for salvation. This author has Jeremiah say that it is a theological error to hold out hope for salvation through the temple of Jerusalem. Also, rather than faith concerning the prophecy related to the temple of Jerusalem, the author of Jeremiah 7:1–12 requests repentance and reform with regard to social ethics (cf. Jer 7:3–7; 22:1–5). In my view, Jeremiah 7:4 is a parody of the theology of DtrH articulated in 2 Kings 19, written by a Deutero-Jeremianic editor in the postexilic period. In other words, the text of Jeremiah 7:1–12 and some related texts in the book of Jeremiah as well as in Psalms seem to have been composed 85 Of course, this is a biblical point of view on the historical reality. One can experience the other side of the story through the prism of texts from Sennacherib. According to the Assyrian point of view, Hezekiah completely surrendered and then sent a huge amount of tribute to Sennacherib: “30 talents of gold, 800 talents of silver, precious stones, antimony, large cuts of red stone, couches (inlaid) with ivory, nîmedu-chairs (inlaid) with ivory, elephant-hides, ebony-wood, box-wood (and) all kinds of valuable treasures, his (own) daughters, concubines, male and female musicians” (Pritchard 1969, 288). Perhaps this represents one of the most glaring gaps between story and history (on “story” and “history”, see chapter 1 above, “Introduction: The Gap and Overlap between Story and History”). On the aforementioned dramatic historical event and its historicity, see also the section “2. Josiah before Megiddo” in Han’s article, above. 86 Cf. Albertz 1989, 45.

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by a theological circle influenced by the “piety of the poor” perspective in the late Persian or early Hellenistic period.87 “Jeremiah” plays a role in this, in coordination with the entire framework of the book of Jeremiah, as a prototype for the identity to which the eschatological group of the pious should be oriented in a situation of persecution.88 According to Coleman Baker, a prototype does not have to be an actual member of the relevant group, but an ideal image substantiating the group identity.89 Thus, a group prototype is not a fixed character since group members in later generations need to reevaluate and to revise the prototype based on the ceaselessly changing situation with which the relevant group is confronted in order to construct and reconstruct their group identity. Human beings cannot be oriented by a past in which they are not able to find themselves, since memory90 is nothing but a reflector of and guide for the present.91 In this context, Barry Schwartz suggests that “keying is the mechanism of this interpretive process”92 connecting a present person, event, activity and experience with a past referent. After this link is accomplished, the keyed entity starts to provide an explanatory framework (framing) which leads to a hermeneutic foundation for the present situation.93 Therefore, memory of a prototype is a constant dynamic process rather than a static one.94 Memory combines the actual past and the present situation in a mutual relationship. In this way, keying and framing can be regarded as useful methods of bringing the historical situation into the present and vice versa. This observation raises further significant inquiries regarding the relationship between story and history in the book of Jeremiah.95 For instance, which keys 87 For

details, see the above section in this article, “2. Did Jeremiah 7:1–12 Derive from the Prophet Jeremiah?” Furthermore, it is intriguing that there is a resemblance between the Confessions (Jer 11:18–12:6; 15:10–21; 17:12–18; 18:19–23 and 20:7–13) and some texts of the “psalms of the poor” (e. g. Pss 12; 25; 34; 35; 37; 40; 62; 69; 73; 76; 94; 102; 109; 140; 149). For details of the “psalms of the poor” cf. Ro 2018, 125–87. 88 Cf. Pohlmann 1989, 108–09. 89 Baker 2017, 189. 90 On collective memory, cf. Halbwachs 1992, passim, in particular, 21–28, 84–119; Schwartz 1982, 374–402; idem 1998, 1–38; idem 2009, 123–42. On communicative and cultural memory, cf. Assmann 2008, 109–118; idem 2011, 5–7, 34–44, 175–205 among others. 91 Schwartz 1996, 910. 92 Schwartz 1996, 911. 93 Ibid. 94 Schwartz 1991, 221–36. According to Schwartz, between 1800 and 1865 Americans memorialized George Washington as a person of remoteness, gentility and flawless virtue while after 1865 they started to consider him as an ordinary and imperfect character in which common people could see themselves (Schwartz 1991, 221). As a mechanism enabling collective memory it is revealing to regard keying and framing as a universal phenomenon of human societies throughout time and space. On this issue, cf. furthermore, Schwartz 1996, 908–27; idem 1998, 1–38; idem 2009, 123–42. 95 For the definitions of “story” and “history” as well as their relationship, see chapter 1

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or frames are discernable throughout the book of Jeremiah? How did these keys and frames influence the expression of both past and present in this eloquent prophetic document? Why did the theological groups compiling the book of Jeremiah add some elements onto the actual past while omitting others? In other words, why did these groups memorialize Jeremiah as they did, constructing heterogeneous images of historical Jeremiah? Furthermore, why and how do their images of Jeremiah separate from and overlap with the historical reality surrounding Jeremiah?

4. Conclusion Based on the above analyses and observations, the following conclusions can be drawn. First, Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:7–13 show a surprising similarity with regard to their theological structures. Neither text seems to have originated from the prophet Jeremiah himself but rather may have been written by postexilic editors. This indicates that a theological continuity exists between some texts of Jeremiah’s Confessions (Jer 12:2; 20:7–13) and some portions of the prose sermons in the book of Jeremiah (Jer 7:1–12; 22:1–5; 26:2–6; 32:40–41). In my view, Jeremiah 7:1–12 and 20:7–13 were probably both written by the same theological group in the postexilic period. It is also likely that the members of this theological group overlapped with the members of the piety-of-the-poor movement.96 The theological circle influenced by the “piety of the poor” perspective intended to correct the theological direction of the Deuteronomistic redaction in the book of Jeremiah. For example, Jeremiah 7:4 can be regarded as a kind of parody of the Deuteronomistic theology reflected in 2 Kings 19 and was written as such by an editor of the “piety of the poor” theology. Accordingly, the theological circle of the ‘piety of the poor’ cannot be found in the lay returnees from the Babylonian exile or their descendants who were deeply influenced by the Deuteronomistic theology forming the Deuteronomic Code.97 Second, a few Deuteronomistic phrases can be found in Jeremiah 7:1–12, but this does not necessarily mean that this unit is a Deuteronomistic editorial layer. While Jeremiah 7:1–12 was not mainly formed from the prophet Jeremiah’s words, it may also not have been primarily formed by the Deuteronomistic editor’s hands. Redactions other than the “Deuteronomistic” surely exist in the book of Jeremiah. By freeing interpretation from the dead end of having to choose whether something is either from the prophet Jeremiah himself or from a Deuteronomistic editorial layer, one is able to recognize other editorial above, “Introduction: The Gap and Overlap between Story and History,” in particular, “1. Introduction.” 96 On the “piety of the poor” cf. Ro 2018, 125–209. 97 On this cf. Ro 2018, 57–67.

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layers, such as the golah-oriented redaction98 and the piety-of-the-poor oriented redaction. Thus, research into the formation history of the book of Jeremiah can become even more nuanced than it has traditionally been. It is indeed a desirable development for recent research to recognize and discern the diverse theological profiles of various editorial layers throughout the book of Jeremiah far more flexibly.99 Third, it is significant in Jeremiah 7 to look at how the unique phenomenon of collective memory based on keying and framing by different theological groups creates a prototype for group identity in the postexilic period. In my view, Jeremiah 7 is an intriguing witness to express in an illuminative manner how various theological groups diversely interpreted and memorialized Jeremiah as their prototype in Persian or Hellenistic Judean communities. Story and history encounter and intersect in the figure of Jeremiah.

98 For details on the golah-oriented redaction (golaorientierte Redaktion), see the section “5. History and Interpretation in 2 Kings 24 and 25” in Schmid’s article, above. 99 Cf. Schmid 1996, 197–354; Maier 2002, 369–70; Sharp 2003, 157–69; Fischer 1995, 129– 39; idem 2007, 105 among others.

The Chronicler as an Historian The Chronicler’s Reinterpretation of the Deuteronomistic History of Israel Yigal Levin 1. Introduction The purpose of this article, with the framework of a volume on the Deuteronomistic History, is to examine the way in which the Deuteronomistic History was used by the Chronicler as a basis for his unique rendition of the history of preexilic Israel. However just by making the above statement, I have already taken sides, so to speak, in at least two of the many controversies that exist in present-day Chronicles studies: that of the relative chronology of Chronicles and the DtrH, and that of their interdependence. Despite the “common source” theory as proposed by Auld and its variants,1 our working assumption is that the Chronicler seems to have known the DtrH, or at least large chunks of it, more or less as it is known today, meaning that I consider his book to be a reinterpretation, or perhaps even a midrash, of the DtrH. In this article, I intend to examine some of the changes made by the Chronicler to his source material. I assume that, for the most part, the omissions of sections of Samuel–Kings were certainly purposeful. However, changes made to the text may have been purposeful, may have been due to the process of transmission of the texts, or may have been caused by the Chronicler’s having a slightly different Vorlage than that represented by the MT. Significant additions to the DtrH may be either “midrashic” or represent the Chronicler’s use of sources that were not used by the DtrH.2 What this particular essay will not discuss is either the nature or the “historicity” of those sources. However, simply stating that the Chronicler re-worked the DtrH, thus implying that the DtrH was composed first, is not enough. One must also take a stand on the issue of absolute dating, and I have found no compelling reason to dismiss the scholarly consensus (even if it has come under increased attack in recent decades). At least as a working assumption, the DtrH was composed, more 1 Auld

1994. For a critique of Auld’s ideas see Tiňo 2010, 20–34. an exhaustive discussion of the ways in which the Chronicler reworked his source material see Kalimi 2005. 2 For

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or less as it is know today, during the exilic period, although it may well have been based on an earlier “core” and then re-edited and expanded in later periods. On the other hand, in my opinion the book of Chronicles was composed during the fourth century bce, either just before or just after the Macedonian conquest (which is not reflected in the book in any case).3 Having made these statements, I now proceed to the next issue, which is the purpose behind the writing of these long compositions. Once again, as a generality, neither of them was written for the purpose of what we moderns would call “history.” In fact, neither of them was even written with the sense of ἱστορία, “inquiry,” as used by Herodotus, “the father of history,” who lived and wrote halfway between the times of the two Hebrew writers: This is the showing forth of the Inquiry (ἱστορίης) of Herodotus of Halicarnassus so that neither the deeds of men may be forgotten by lapse of time, nor the works great and marvelous, which have been produced some by Hellenes and some by Barbarians, may lose their renown; and especially that the causes may be remembered for which these waged war with one another.4

As made clear from the above prologue, while Herodotus was concerned with memory, he had no “religious” or “national” motivation: he was concerned neither with the glory of the Greeks nor with that of their gods. The Deuteronomistic Historian and the Chronicler, on the other hand, were quite concerned with both Israel and its God, and even more so with the relationship between them. Of course, this can be said about virtually any book included in the biblical canon, despite the fact that different biblical writers had different views about that relationship and articulated their views in different ways, using different literary genres and expressing themselves in ways that would be relevant to their respective intended audiences. Both the Deuteronomistic Historian and the Chronicler chose to use the genre of historiography, although they did so in different ways. Since the focus of this essay is Chronicles, we will not address the ways in which the writer of the DtrH collected and edited the sources available to him. For the Chronicler, some sort of DtrH, in fact some sort of Primary History, including the Pentateuch, the DtrH and at least the first chapter of Ezra, was extant.5 He first made the decision to write a new historiography of preexilic Israel, one that would serve his generation of readers. 3 For basic discussions on the date, extent, unity and sources of Chronicles, see the introductory chapters of most modern commentaries, especially Knoppers 2003, 66–137; Klein 2006, 6–44 and the many references therein. 4 Herodotus 2004, 3. 5 Ben Zvi 2017a, 11–12, correctly rejects the idea that Chronicles was intended to supersede or to replace the DtrH, emphasizing that “there is no reason to assume that the readers of Chronicles did not read or considered the DHC an integral part of their textual authoritative repertoire, or that they consisted of a separate social group socialized over their reading of Chronicles. First, Chronicles often assumes knowledge of the DHC; second, it is very unlikely that socially separate and separately socialized groups could have existed for any substantial

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He then had to choose which of the preexisting “biblical” writings to use and in what manner, when to subtract, when to add and what to change. These choices will be the subject of the rest of this essay.

2. Why Write a New History of Preexilic Israel? People who make history rarely write history. While various ancient Near Eastern king lists, annalistic writings and royal inscriptions are sometimes viewed as examples of early historiography,6 there is a major difference between a king bragging about his own deeds in a few lines, occasionally referring to past events, and a writer who spends years collecting material, editing sources and eventually publishing what is in effect a summary of his nation’s past. Not just Herodotus, but the slightly later Greco-Babylonian Berossus and his near contemporary Greco-Egyptian Manetho, the Roman-Jewish Philo of Alexandria, Josephus Flavius and many of the classical Greek and Roman historians all seemed to have written at or immediately after times of great change. This could be the rise of Hellenism, the transition from Republic to Empire or, for the people of Judah, the destruction of the First Temple, the restoration and then the destruction of the Second Temple.7 And so it seems indeed to have been the exile, or maybe even the restoration, which in retrospect prompted a scribe/priest/ prophet of Judah to collect the available data in order to write down the story of Israel. In this story God fulfilled his promise and gave his chosen people both land and king, while the people repeatedly broke the covenant by worshipping foreign gods (and a long litany of other sins as well) until God ultimately, as per that same covenant, exiled the people and destroyed their kingdom.8 This is the main theme of what we call the DtrH, aimed at an audience for whom the destruction was still a recent event that needed an explanation. By the Chronicler’s day, the destruction was almost three centuries in the past, and even the restoration was a well-established past event. The people of Persian-period Judah, or “Yehud,” the Aramaic name that has been adopted by many modern scholars, had different issues to deal with.9 One of these may well length of time among the small number of Jerusalem-centered literati in the late Persian/early Hellenistic period and its very limited resources.” 6 For some recent examples see Pearson 2010, 1–20; Bachvarova 2012, 97–118; Suriano 2014, 95–118; Dušek and Mynářová 2016, 9–39. 7 For recent studies on the first two see Dillery 2015. For Philo see Seland 2014. For Josephus see Schwartz 2013. For an exploration of the relationship between Chronicles and Greek histories see Edelman and Mitchell 2011, 229–52. 8 For more on the idea of “covenant” in the Deuteronomistic History, see Edenburg 2015, 131–49. 9 Or, in the words of William Riley (1993, 29): “The Chronicler’s historical interest … has two foci: the events of the past and his contemporary community. The precritical historical

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have been the primacy of the Jerusalem Temple over those of Mount Gerizim, Elephantine, perhaps of Idumea, and maybe others as well.10 As Beentjes put it some years ago: “It Is All About the Temple.”11 There may also have been some sort of struggle between the priesthood and the “secular” leadership, in which the Chronicler clearly took the side of the priests. This may, for example, be one of the reasons behind the story of Uzziah’s leprosy in 2 Chronicles 26:21; 2 Kings 15:5 simply states that God struck him with leprosy, but it is the Chronicler who adds the story of the proud king who attempted to usurp the priests’ prerogatives as a reason for his affliction.12 The Chronicler’s preference of temple over palace can also be seen in his restructuring of the events that followed David’s conquest of Jerusalem. The conquest narrative as told in 2 Samuel 5:6–9, with its problematic syntax and its mysterious references to “the ṣinnôr” and “the blind and the lame” obviously serve as the source of 1 Chronicles 11:4–8, although the Chronicler did “fix up” the syntax and delete the ṣinnôr and the blind and the lame, which were as mysterious to him as they are to modern interpreters. He also changed Samuel’s “the king and his men” to “David and all Israel” in order to emphasize the centrality of Jerusalem to the entire nation. Both versions conclude “and David became greater and greater, for the Lord, God of hosts, was with him” (verse 10/9). But in Samuel, David’s conquest of the city is followed immediately by Hiram’s construction of a palace for David (verse 11), David’s moving of his wives into the city (13–16) and then the Philistines’ two attempts to attack him (17–25). Only after his successful defense of his new capital does David, at the beginning of chapter 6, begin the process of moving the Ark of God into the city, establishing it as the cultic center of the realm and as the site of the future temple. The Chronicler recounted all of these events, using either the text of Samuel or something very much like it as his source but making numerous interesting changes along the way. Since I cannot discuss all of these in depth, I will only point out the most important of them all: the very order in which the events are told. In Chronicles, the conquest of the city is followed by the list of David’s heroes (1 Chr 11:10–47), most of which is copied from 2 Samuel 23. Then come further lists of David’s supporters (chapter 12), all material not found in Samuel.13 Then, after establishing once more that David ruled over all Israel with the support of all Israel, chapter 13 tells of David beginning to bring up the Ark, and then only chapter 14 tell us of Hiram’s building the palace, followed by the task that he has set for himself is to tell past events in such a way that he is actually speaking equally about the present.” 10 For which see, respectively, Dušek 2014, 111–33; Rohrmoser 2014; Lemaire 2004, 38–44, 60. 11 Beentjes 2008, 103. For the Chronicler’s view of the temple as the place of God’s presence see Japhet 1997, 63–81. 12 For which see Beentjes 2008, 79–90. 13 For some of which see Levin 2006, 21–38 (Hebrew with English abstract).

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Philistine attack. So instead of David’s conquest > palace > Philistine attack > Ark, in Chronicles it is conquest > Ark > palace > Philistine attack. In other words, the DtrH, written when the memory of the monarchy was still fresh in the people’s collective memory and when various descendants of the royal family may have in fact still been part of their leadership, sees Jerusalem primarily as David’s capital, of which the temple was a part. For the Chronicler, writing when the monarchy was a distant memory while the priesthood had emerged as the nation’s leaders, the temple was the raison d’être for the city itself! David’s conquest of the city was first in order to bring about the building of the temple, and only then to establish it as the nation’s capital.14 Another reason for writing a new historiography of preexilic Israel may be to define the identity of postexilic Yehud. The nation of Israel and its identity obviously play an important role in Chronicles. This is seen primarily in the nine-chapter “genealogical introduction” to Chronicles, which basically stands in for all of the Primary History’s Genesis–1 Samuel. In these chapters, the Chronicler defines Israel’s “place” in the world, its structure and its distribution. By combining the forms of both linear and segmented genealogies, the Chronicler gives these chapters both spatial and chronological qualities. Having read through the genealogies, the reader will now know exactly who is included in Israel, where they live and the main points of their history, all the way from Abraham to the death of Saul, and with some of the lists including information reaching all the way to the Chronicler’s own day.15 The same is true of the Chronicler’s retelling of the wars of the various kings, which various scholars read as reflecting the situation of the Yehud province in the Chronicler’s own day.16 And many emphasize the purported conflict between Judah and Samaria, or between “Jews” and “Samaritans,” as one of the main issues of the time which is reflected in Chronicles.17 However, as has been pointed out often, Chronicles is much more than a summary or re-stating of the past. It is an entirely new telling of that past. On one hand, the Chronicler seems to have assumed that at least some of his readers were familiar with both the Torah and the DtrH, often alluding to them even without retelling them. One example of this concerns the way in which Joshua or Samuel are mentioned. The former appears only in 1  Chronicles 7:27, at the “focal point” of the genealogy of Ephraim, which would not make any sense to the reader unless he already knew that Joshua had been an important figure in 14 For more on the way in which the Chronicler used his “idealized” characters of David and Solomon as the founders of the cultus see Riley 1993, 31–36. See also Tiňo 2010 and Boda 2013, 215–45. 15 For useful summaries of work on the Chroniclers genealogies see the commentaries, as well as Levin 2003, 229–45; Sparks 2008; Schweitzer 2013, 9–27; Bodner 2013, 29–41. 16 For example: Siedlecki 1999, 229–66. 17 Davies 2011, 77–88, although the view of Chronicles as “anti-Samaritan,” commonly held in the past, is no longer accepted by a majority of scholars. See also Japhet 1997, 325–34.

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Israel’s past.18 Samuel appears seven times in Chronicles.19 The first two of these are in the genealogy of Levi (1 Chr 6:13, 18 [Eng. 6:28, 33]), and, as in the case of Joshua, Samuel’s appearance there would make no sense if he was not already known to the readers. In fact, Samuel’s attachment to the genealogies of the Levites, contrary to the clear statement in 1 Samuel 1:1 that he is a member of the Zuph clan of Ephraim, is only made necessary by the Chronicler’s knowledge (and that of his readers) that Samuel served in the sanctuary at Shiloh, offered sacrifices and performed other tasks that, in the Chronicler’s Second Temple Period view, could have only been performed by a member of the Levitical class, a Levite if not a “full” Aaronide priest. Since Chronicles does not actually tell of Samuel performing these tasks, the Chronicler must have assumed that his readers were familiar with the stories that appear in what we know of as 1 Samuel. Two additional cases mention Samuel as having “founded,” together with David, various aspects of the temple cult (1 Chr 9:22; 26:28). In 1  Chronicles 11:3, the Chronicler quotes 2  Samuel 5:3 in telling of David’s enthronement over Israel at Hebron, but then adds that this was done “according to the word of the Lord by the hand of Samuel,” Once again, this note is nonsensical to a reader unfamiliar with 1 Samuel 16. 1 Chronicles 29:29 cites “the words of Samuel the seer, and the words of Nathan the prophet, and the words of Gad the visionary” as the sources for his history of David.20 And finally, where 2 Kings 23:22 tells us that a Passover such as Josiah’s had not been celebrated since the days of the Judges, 2  Chronicles 35:18 says “since the days of Samuel the prophet.”21

3. How to Write a New History of Israel? The ways in which the Chronicler used the earlier books of the Bible (in whatever form he knew them) in order to rewrite the history of Israel have been discussed widely in recent decades, as have the possibility of his use of additional 18 This is true even if the Ephraim-to-Joshua genealogy is merely a literary construct, as assumed by many scholars. Japhet 1997, 378–79, considers that Joshua, together with Nahshon and Bezalel, serves as “links in the continuous genealogical chain” of Israel’s living in the land, rather than as allusions to the exodus. However, they would only have been familiar to the Chronicler’s readers if they were also familiar with some version of the exodus-conquest narrative. 19 An additional individual named Samuel appears in the genealogy of Issachar in 1  Chronicles 7:2. 20 Regardless of whether the reference is to something akin to what we call the book of Samuel or not. 21 Although it is not clear why the Chronicler chose to change the reference to the Judges to one of Samuel. Japhet 1993, 1054–55, points out that the days of the Judges are rarely mentioned in Chronicles, while “Samuel is a person of stature in Chronicles, mentioned by name seven times in different contexts.”

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sources.22 In the paragraphs that follow, I wish to point out some of the changes made by the Chronicler that I believe were intended to paint a new and different picture of preexilic Israel from that depicted by the writers of the DtrH. a) Good Kings and Bad Kings Both the DtrH (or at least Samuel–Kings) and Chronicles are organized around the reigns of kings. For almost every king, they include an assessment of his evilness or piety, usually as part of the introductory formula such as: “and Asa did what was right in the eyes of the Lord like David his father” (1 Kgs 15:11); “And Asa did what was good and right in the eyes of the Lord his God” (2 Chr 14:1 [Eng. 14:2]); “And he [Ahaziah] did evil in the eyes of the Lord like the house of Ahab” (2 Kgs 8:27; 2 Chr 22:4). There are, however, several important differences between the ways the two books present the kings. The first, of course, is that where Kings traces the kings of both kingdoms, Chronicles concentrates on the kings of Judah and does not repeat Kings’ assessments of the northern monarchs. But there are other differences as well. The characterization of the kings of Judah in Kings tends to be rather one-sided: either good or bad. Thus, Asa and Jehoshaphat are good, Joram and Ahaziah are bad, Joash, Amaziah, Azariah and Jotham are good, Ahaz is evil, Hezekiah is good, Manasseh and Amon are evil, Josiah is of course almost perfect, and the final four are all bad. If anything, it is the earlier kings, up to Rehoboam and Abijam, who are more multi-faceted. In Chronicles, it is the earlier kings who are one-sided, with the sins of David and Solomon and even the mention that “Judah did evil in the eyes of the Lord” in Rehoboam’s days (1 Kgs 14:22) and that Abijah “went in all the sins that his father did before him” (1 Kgs 15:3) omitted.23 Conversely, quite a few of the later kings turn out to be more complex, starting well and turning bad or vice-versa. This is accomplished, for the most part, by introducing an episode or an influential event that causes the king under discussion to change his ways. The two most prominent cases are those of the turning of Joash after his evil counselors following the death of Jehoiada (2 Chr 24:17–18) and of the repentance of Manasseh after being imprisoned by “the officers of the army of the king of Assyria” (2 Chr 33:11–12),24 but there are others. In almost all of these cases, the result is that the kings’ reigns are divided into “good years” and “bad years,” a scheme absent from Kings. The reign of Asa, for example, starts of with his doing “what was good and right in the eyes of the Lord his God” 22 Besides the introductory chapters of practically every modern commentary on Chronicles, see for example, McKenzie 1984; Kalimi 2005; Ben Zvi 2014; the various papers collected in Graham et al. 1997; Graham and McKenzie 1999; Ben Zvi and Edelman 2011; Evans and Williams 2013 and many more. 23 With the one outstanding exception of the census ordered by David and taken by Joab, which 1 Chronicles 21 based on 2 Samuel 24. For the way in which this was done see Evans 2013, 65–80. See also Beentjes 2008, 45–56. 24 For which see, among others, Abadie 2003, 89–104.

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(2 Chr 14:1 [Eng. 14:2]) and being rewarded appropriately with success in war, in building and in progeny. However, according to 2 Chronicles 14:19 [Eng. 14:20], all of this lasted only through his thirty-fifth year. In year thirty-six, Judah was attacked by Baasha of Israel, to which Asa reacted by turning to the king of Aram-Damascus, a move which in Kings seems like clever diplomacy, but which Chronicles, through the agency of Hanani the Seer, condemns for lack of faith in God. Asa, in his anger, threw Hanani into jail, and was rewarded, in his thirty-ninth year, with a painful foot disease. As a final note, 2 Chronicles 16:12 comments that even then Asa sought out the help of physicians instead of God. And, while his foot disease is also mentioned in Kings, it is not accorded any theological significance, and the various dates cited by the Chronicler are unmentioned in Kings. The important question is, of course, “why?” Why does the Chronicler make good kings “go bad” and bad kings repent? The most common answer is the Chronicler’s well-known idea of “immediate retribution”: to him, the fact that a “good” king like Asa or Uzziah ended his life with an incurable disease, or that a “bad” king like Manasseh reigned for fifty-five long and seemingly prosperous years, must mean that they did something to deserve their destiny. The use of this concept in Chronicles studies is most often associated with Sara Japhet, but it actually has quite a long history.25 Japhet and others also emphasize the role of grace and repentance in deciding an individual’s destiny in Chronicles.26 However, I believe that the matter is more complex. By making his main characters more multi-faceted, the Chronicler also renders them more human and perhaps less “legendary.”27 b) The Divided Kingdom In the DtrH, the “blame” for the division of the monarchy is laid on Solomon as punishment for his sins (for example 1 Kgs 11:11–13), with Rehoboam and Jeroboam playing out the roles for which they were predestined. As such, the very division and existence of the northern monarchy are not just legitimate, but divinely ordained. As a result, Kings follows the reigns of the northern kings together with those of the south. In Chronicles, Solomon’s sins are absent, as are the stories of Ahijah the Shilonite and the other prophets who appeared to Solomon, Rehoboam and Jeroboam, with the exception of Shemaiah, who tells Rehoboam not to fight his brethren (1 Chr 11:2–4). However, Rehoboam himself is

25 See

Japhet 1997, 165–76; Kelly 2003, 206–27. 1997, 176–98. 27 Ben Zvi 2017a, 6, emphasizes that “tendencies towards fuzziness, multivocality, acceptance and promotion of seeming inconsistency are all characteristic of societies that lack a sense of strong existential anxiety. Moreover, integrative fuzziness is often a necessary feature of relatively small, multivocal groups.” 26 Japhet

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also not to blame for the division.28 Ben Zvi emphasizes the fact that the assembly took place at Schechem, which was, on one hand, a historical “fact” which the Chronicler drew from his source (the DtrH), but on the other, certainly significant in light of the tensions between Judah and Samaria in the Chronicler’s own day.29 As pointed out by Frisch, Chronicles also deletes 1 Kgs 12:20, which tells of the coronation of Jeroboam “by the assembly.”30 The result is that the northern monarchy does not receive legitimate recognition in any way, and indeed, the Chronicler does not survey the northern kings and their deeds, and only mentions them when they interact with the kings of Judah. However, as recognized by many scholars, the Chronicler considers the northern monarchy illegitimate, not the northerners themselves. He often refers to the north as “Israel,” although this is of course also his term for the entire nation, and sometimes for just Judah as well.31 But he does not even mention the exile of the northern tribes (except the Transjordanians in 1 Chr 5:25–26), and of course both Hezekiah and Josiah invite the northerners, in Hezekiah’s case named by tribe, to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem (2 Chr 30:1, 10–11; 35:18). In fact, even when describing the purification of the land under Josiah, where 2 Kings 23:19 mentions “Samaria,” 2 Chronicles 34:6 has “Ephraim and Manasseh and Simeon unto Naphtali.” So the northern kingdom is illegitimate, while the northern tribes are still a part of the Chronicler’s “Israel,” and in fact, once their apostate kingdom is gone, the northern tribes are invited to rejoin Judah and the house of David. c) The Tribes of Israel While never actually stating so explicitly, the DtrH seems to assume that the tribal structure of Israelite society largely dissolved after the establishment of the monarchy. In any case, with the exception of Judah and Benjamin, the individual tribes receive almost no mention in Samuel and Kings, with the northern tribes referred to collectively as “Israel.” The Chronicler, while also often referring to the north as “Israel” and to the south as “Judah” or “Judah and Benjamin,” also takes great pains to emphasize the continuing existence of the individual tribes as vital components of that “Israel.” This is, of course, obvious in the tribal genealogies of the book’s first nine chapters, but also beyond them. For example, 2 Samuel 5:1–3 reports that “all the tribes of Israel” came to David at Hebron, where he was made king by “all the elders of Israel.” The Chronicler, on the other hand, after repeating the pericope almost verbatim in 1 Chronicles 11:1–3 28 See

Knoppers 1990, 423–40. Zvi 2003, 61–88. 30 Frisch 2000, 21–22. 31 See, for example, Williamson 1977, 97–118; Riley 1993, 187–91. See also Japhet 1997, 267–78. 29 Ben

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(omitting, interestingly, the word “tribes” in verse 1), then adds, in 12:24–41 [Eng. 23–40], a list of “the numbers of the divisions of the armed troops who came to David in Hebron to turn the kingdom of Saul over to him, according to the word of the Lord,” listed as tribal units. These are preceded by the Benjaminites, Gadites and Manassites, who came to David at Ziklag (12:1–23 [Eng.24]). 1 Chronicles 27:16–22 includes officers whom David appointed over each of the tribes of Israel.32 Even statistically, the names of the individual tribes appear more often in Chronicles than they do in Samuel and Kings. Outside the genealogies, Reuben appears five times in Chronicles as opposed to once in Samuel–Kings (2 Kgs 10:33). Simeon appears four times in Chronicles and never in Samuel–Kings, Issachar four times in Chronicles and twice in Samuel–Kings (1 Kgs 4:17; 15:27). Zebulun shows up six times in Chronicles and never in Samuel–Kings, Dan (as a tribe, not a city) three in Chronicles and never in Samuel–Kings, Naphtali five to three and Gad four and four (of course not counting the prophet of this name). Asher appears twice in Chronicles outside the genealogies and in Samuel–Kings only if the “Ashurites” of 2 Samuel 2:9 refer to “Asherites” and not to something else.33 Manasseh (the tribe, not the king) is mentioned sixteen times in Chronicles and only once in Samuel–Kings (with reference to “the villages of Jair son of Manasseh, which are in Gilead” in 1 Kgs 4:18). And finally, Ephraim (not counting “Mount Ephraim” as a geographical region and the Gate of Ephraim in Jerusalem) appears sixteen times in Chronicles and only twice in Samuel and Kings (2 Sam 13:23; 18:6, both actually geographic references as well), in addition to two references to “Ephrathites,” who are supposedly from the tribe of Ephraim (1 Sam 1:1; 1 Kgs 11:26). Just from these references, all from outside the genealogies, one can see that the Chronicler attaches much greater importance to the idea of Israel, even during the time of the monarchy, as being composed of individual tribes than did the DrtH. d) Priests and Levites The noun kôhên, “priest,” referring to both Israelite and non-Israelite priests, is actually more common in Samuel and Kings than it is in Chronicles (104 in Samuel–Kings to 86 in Chronicles outside of the genealogies, many of those being in passages taken from Samuel–Kings). But even so, the priests’ prevalence in both historiographies reflects their centrality in both the ideology and the “real-life” practice of Israelite and Judahite religion in both the First and Second Temple periods. 32 For a more detailed study of the tribal system in Chronicles see Japhet 1997, 278–308. Japhet emphasizes the “non-schematic” nature of the Chronicler’s tribal system, which sometimes includes twelve elements, sometimes fourteen and sometimes other amounts. 33 See, for example, Edelman 1985, 85–91.

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The noun “Levite”, on the other hand, appears 113 times in Chronicles as opposed to only twice each in Samuel and in Kings (1 Sam 6:15; 2 Sam 15:24; 1 Kgs 8:4; 12:31). This comparison obviously indicates the Levites’ importance to the Chronicler. Basically, the Chronicler inserted Levites at every possible juncture. Scholars often claim that the Levites’ centrality in Chronicles must reflect their centrality in the “real world” of the early Second Temple period, although not all scholars agree on this point.34 Some argue that the Levites’ prominence in Chronicles is a sort of “utopia” or “wishful thinking” on the part of the Chronicler.35 e) Prophets So much has been written on the role of prophets and prophecy in Chronicles that little needs be repeated here. Just to summarize, almost every preexilic prophet mentioned in the DtrH from Moses to Jeremiah36 finds his (or her, with the inclusion of Huldah, though not Deborah) place in Chronicles, plus quite a few unknown from the earlier historiography. They appear in various roles: as divine messengers, as advisors to kings, as orators, but also as the authors of many of the “sources” cited by the Chronicler for his histories of the various kings, a role in which they do not appear in the DtrH.37 As stated by Ben Zvi: Similarly, whereas the DHC placed almost no prophets in Judah after David, Chronicles and the Prophetic Book Collection asked the community to imagine multiple prophets/ prophetic voices in Judah, though different ones. Within the world evoked by Chronicles, without prophetic voices/guardians Israel cannot flourish, but Israel flourished for the most part in monarchic period. The story of the DHC about an inexorable descent towards destruction was strongly balanced within the comprehensive social memory of the literati by the latter’s recalling, based on their readings of Chronicles, of the multiple references to periods in which monarchic Judah behaved, for the most part, properly and by recalling that even Manasseh could repent and be restored to his throne in Judah/Israel. Similarly, the main narrative about Israel’s continuous rejection of YHWH’s prophets that emerged from the Prophetic Book Collection was also balanced within the comprehensive social memory of the literati as they recalled the multiple instances that Israel/ Judah pay heed to prophetic voices.38

34 See,

for example, Myers 1965, lxx; Nelson 1993, 132; Japhet 1997, 89–92. Schweitzer 2007, 149–73; Levin, in press. 36 Strictly speaking, Jeremiah is actually not mentioned in Kings, but his presence “behind the scenes” is clear in the final two chapters, which are largely parallel to Jeremiah 39–40 and 52. For the role of Jeremiah in Chronicles see Leuchter 2011, 183–200; idem 2013, 384–414. Another prominent DtrH prophet unmentioned in Chronicles is Elisha, who was active only in the Northern Kingdom. 37 For which see Jonker 2011, 145–64; Warhurst 2011, 165–81 and the many references therein. 38 Ben Zvi 2017a, 17. 35 See

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While the question of whether the various prophets cited by the Chronicler were historical figures or literary ones is interesting, it is hardly germane to our discussion.39 The same is true for the question of whether the Chronicler and his audience considered the phenomenon of prophecy a thing of the past (with Malachi being the last canonically recognized prophet) or whether they viewed prophecy as something that continued to exist in their time. I, at least, read the prophets in Chronicles to represent a thing of the past, whose voices remain quite relevant to the readers present and future.40

4. What Sort of New History of Israel Is Chronicles? In the past, I made the claim that much of the Chronicler’s genealogical material for the tribes of Judah, Simeon, Manasseh, Ephraim, Asher and Benjamin was actually taken from the living traditions of the descendants of those tribes living in the Chronicler’s own time.41 This can also be seen in the list of the High Priests, which also extends to the postexilic period.42 On the other hand, many of the Chronicler’s descriptions of preexilic Israel are quite obviously non-historical, meant to convey various messages to the readers of the Chronicler’s own time in terms which would be relevant to them. About a decade ago, Steven Schweitzer, following in the footsteps of Roland Boer, classified Chronicles as “utopian literature.”43 To summarize the definitions offered by both of them and by others, a “utopia” is a literary place that is both non-existent in the “real world” (that is, u-topia, “no-place”) and one that is better than the “real-world” (eu-topia, “good-place”).44 In relating this to the question of whether the cultic apparatus reflected in Chronicles actually reflects the time of the Chronicler, Schweitzer comments: this is an assumption common in scholarship without actual evidence. That the stipulations of Chronicles may be reflected in later documents does not mean that they were historical reality for the Chronicler. Rather, if Chronicles is utopian in character, then its cultic practices and systems may reflect desired (but not necessarily implemented) changes and, therefore, not historical realities … that is, the Chronicler may not be legitimizing current practice but rather offering an alternative system that would change the present 39 For example, Beentjes 2008, 139, considers most of the prophets mentioned in Chronicles, as well as their speeches, literary constructions rather than reflections of any real historical memories. 40 For discussions about the question of prophecy in Second Temple Judaism and its being seen as a continuation of biblical prophecy see Greenspahn 1989, 37–49; Sommer 1996, 31–47; Jassen 2011, 577–93. 41 Levin 2003, 342–43. 42 See also Scolnic 1999, 163–84. 43 Schweitzer 2007, 12; Boer 1997, 136–68. 44 Boer 1997, 117, based on Marin 1973, 9–50.

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structure … rather than sift through Chronicles for what it may say about the Second Temple period, utopian literary theory would suggest that its description of society is in tension with historical reality.45

This rings true to a certain extent. As pointed out by Beentjes, had Samuel– Kings been unknown, interpreters would reconstruct a very different the history of Israel from Chronicles than the one we have today.46 Therefore, the Chronicler’s version of the history of preexilic Israel is very different than that of the DtrH. But Beentjes also rejects Schweitzer’s definition of Chronicles as “utopia,” at least in the classic, Morian sense of the word.47 Unlike More’s utopia,48 the Chronicler’s Israel is not set on an uncharted island but in the very real and familiar land of Israel, the same land as that inhabited by his readers. The Chronicler’s history of Israel still ends with almost-total destruction and with a hope for the future. The Chronicler, by “updating” his readers’ past, hopes to also influence the way in which they envision and bring about their future.

45 Schweitzer

2007, 29–30. 2008, 101. 47 Beentjes 2008, 105. 48 For a recent introduction to More’s “Utopia” see Nelson 2018, 7–15. 46 Beentjes

The Meeting of Croesus and Solon in Herodotus’ Histories I Yoshinori Sano 1. Introduction The intention of this essay is to provide a comparative perspective to the discussion of story and history in the Hebrew Bible from the realm of Greek historiography. I chose the episode of the meeting of Croesus, the king of Lydia, and Solon, the Athenian statesman, described in book 1 of Herodotus’ Histories, not only because the historicity of this meeting has been disputed, but also because the concept of divine retribution, which is a key concept in the Hebrew Bible and especially in Deuteronomistic History, seems to have played an interesting role in the narrative construction of this episode. The episode of the meeting of Croesus and Solon is embedded in a larger narrative of the history of Lydia in Herodotus’ Histories.1 Candaules, the Lydian king, was murdered by his bodyguard, Gyges, who usurped the kingship of Lydia (Hist. 1. 7–13). The text then describes the reigns of Gyges and his descendants, Ardys, Sadyattes and Alyattes (Hist. 1. 14–25). Lydia then expanded its territory under Croesus’ reign (Hist. 1. 26–28). The text then follows with the meeting of Croesus and Solon (Hist. 1. 29–33), which focuses on human happiness. After Croesus dismissed Solon from Sardis, he lost his son, Atys (Hist. 1. 34–45), and prepared to fight against Cyrus, the Persian king (Hist. 1. 46–70). This includes an account of the famous oracle that Croesus received from Apollo’s sanctuary at Delphi that if Croesus should send an army against the Persians he would destroy a great empire (μεγάλη ἀρχή, Hist. 1. 53). Croesus, believing that this “great empire” was Cyrus’ empire, attacked the Persian army and was defeated, losing his own empire (Hist. 1. 71–84). Croesus was captured, and placed on a pyre that was set on fire. Croesus called the name of Solon from the burning fire, and Cyrus was curious to find out why Croesus called Solon’s name. Eventually the fire was extinguished and Croesus was rescued (Hist. 1. 85–87). Thereafter Croesus became an adviser to Cyrus. 1 Earlier references to the episode of Croesus in Greek literature and art include Pindar, Pythian Ode 1. 92–94, Bacchylides, Victory Ode 3 and a vase painting attributed to Myson (Louvre G197). Cf. Cairns 2010, 65–74; Gangé 2013, 331–35; Gagné 2016, 78–85.

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The text portrays Solon as an impressive figure within the context of Croesus’ reign. At the zenith of his power and wealth, Croesus meets Solon and rejects his view of human happiness. When Croesus loses everything and is about to die on the burning pyre, he realizes that Solon is right.

2. Question about the Historicity of the Meeting of Croesus and Solon Regarding the timing of Solon’s visit to Sardis, Herodotus states: All the sages from Greece, who lived in those days, came to Sardis, which was thriving in wealth, in their own ways. Among them came Solon the Athenian, who, having instituted laws for the Athenians at their request, went abroad for ten years and set out on a voyage, on the pretext of sightseeing, lest he should be compelled to repeal any of the laws which he had established, since the Athenians themselves could not do it, for they were bound by solemn oaths to abide for ten years by the laws which Solon should establish. Under these circumstances, and for sightseeing, Solon went abroad and visited Amasis in Egypt and Croesus at Sardis. (Hist. 1. 29–30)2

This account by Herodotus clearly implies that Solon left Athens soon after his legislation and went abroad for ten years visiting Egypt and Asia Minor. Since antiquity, the historicity of this meeting has been doubted from a chronological point of view. Plutarch mentions this controversy: Some criticize his [Solon’s] interview with Croesus as fictitious in respect of chronology. But, since the story is so famous and has so many witnesses and, more importantly, befits Solon’s character and is worthy of his magnanimity and wisdom, I should not reject it based on so-called chronological canons, which countless people are revising to this day and still cannot bring the contradictions to any agreement among themselves. (Solon 27)3

Plutarch himself deems the meeting of Croesus and Solon a significant episode that reveals Solon’s moral attitude and thought, and he opposes those who doubted the historicity of the meeting. Despite Plutarch’s support, the timing of Solon’s journey recorded by Herodotus causes great difficulty. Solon’s archonship was 594/3 bce. If his legislation was enacted while he was an archon, Solon’s ten-year journey to Egypt and Asia Minor soon after his legislation must have taken place in about 593–583.4 In that case, the meeting with Croesus is impossible, since his reign began around 560.5 2 Author’s

translation. translation. 4 Rhodes 1993, 120–22. 5 Based on Nabonidus’ Chronicle (col. II, line 16). 3 Author’s

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If, on the other hand, Solon’s legislation was in the seventies and his journey was in the sixties, the meeting would be chronologically possible.6 It would also have been possible if Solon journeyed in the sixties without any connection to his legislation during his archonship in 594/3.7 The problem with these suppositions, which place Solon’s journey in the sixties (or later), is that Solon would have been close to seventy years old (or older) when he embarked on the great adventure. The year of Solon’s birth is uncertain, but probably ca. 630–625.8 The historicity of the meeting of Croesus and Solon is doubtful. Even if this meeting actually happened, it is likely that Solon’s message about human happiness is highly influenced by Herodotus’ viewpoint.9 This can be seen from the fact that the central theme of Solon’s message is repeated elsewhere in the Histories.

3. Herodotean Solon’s Message about Human Happiness This section looks briefly at the substance of Solon’s meeting with Croesus. Solon is asked by Croesus who he thought was the happiest man known to him. Croesus, who considers himself the happiest among men, has his servants show Solon his vast treasures. But as the happiest man, Solon names not Croesus but Tellus the Athenian, who not only belonged to a prosperous polis, was blessed with offspring and was well off by Athenian standards, but also died while fighting valiantly and was given a public burial by the Athenians. Croesus asks Solon who was the second happiest, hoping that he himself would be named. Solon instead names Cleobis and Biton, Argive brothers who were sufficiently wealthy and renowned athletic prizewinners. With their superb physical strength, Cleobis and Biton brought their mother on a wagon to the festival of the goddess Hera because the oxen that should pull the wagon were away in the fields. The brothers received high praise from the Argives, and their mother prayed Hera to grant her sons the greatest human blessing. Cleobis and Biton slept in the temple and died in their sleep. The Argives set up statues at Delphi commemorating the brothers. Solon thus names the happiest and the second happiest among mortals those who were sufficiently wealthy, but far less wealthy than Croesus, and who died right after their best deeds, which received high praise from their compatriots, and who were commemorated publicly after their deaths.10

 6 Markianos

1974, 17. 1982, 54. Cf. also Flower 1991, 61–62. Diogenes Laertius (1. 50–51) states that Solon left Athens after Peisistrarus became a tyrant in 561/0.  8 Rhodes 1993, 224.  9 Oliva 1975, 178–79 and Harrison 2000, 61–63. 10 Shapiro 1996, 351.  7 Braun

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After hearing these answers, Croesus reproaches Solon for despising his vast wealth. Solon begins his reply: “Croesus, I understand that the divinity as a whole (τὸ θεῖον πᾶν)11 is jealous (φθονερόν) and causes troubles, and you ask me concerning human affairs” (Hist. 1. 32. 1). Solon’s claim that the divinity is jealous sets the key tone of his message. Solon then points out that in seventy years, which he sets as the limit of human life, no one of the days is identical to another in respect of what they bring, so all human life is but chance (συμφορή). Solon goes on to say that he cannot judge whether Croesus is happy (ὄλβιος) or not before he dies, since a man can be called happy only when, in addition to having wealth and other advantages, he ends his life well. In conclusion, Solon states that one must see the end, since god, having given a vision of happiness, brings about utter ruin (Hist. 1. 32. 9). The message of Solon may be summarized as follows: humans cannot be judged happy until they die happily because the gods are jealous and may cause disaster to those who are prosperous.12 Hearing this message about human happiness, Croesus thinks that Solon is a foolish man and sends him away. Here follows the description that forebodes Croesus’ downfall: But after Solon departed, grave indignation from a god seized Croesus, as I guess, because he supposed himself to be the happiest among all humans. (Hist. 1. 34. 1)13

The misfortune of Croesus that immediately follows this foreboding remark is the death of Itys. One should note that Solon’s two examples both involve happiness with respect to offspring, and in different ways contrast to Croesus’ loss of his son. As for Tellus, Solon asserts not only that his children were graceful and noble (καλοὶ κἀγαθοί), but also that Tellus saw that offspring were born to all his children and saw all his grandchildren survive (Hist. 1. 30. 4). This obvious emphasis on the complete survival of Tellus’ numerous offspring contrasts with Croesus’ loss of his son, who alone of his two sons was fit to inherit the Lydian throne.14 In the episode of Cleobis and Biton, Solon describes the happiness of the mother as well as the happiness of the sons: She is overjoyed (περιχαρής) because of her sons’ great physical prowess and their reputation (Hist. 1. 31. 4). The mother of the brothers has something in common with Croesus in that the former loses her sons and the latter will lose Atys. This superficial correspondence rather strengthens the contrast between Cleobis and Biton’s “best end of life” (τελευτὴ τοῦ βίου ἀρίστη, Hist. 1. 31. 3) sent by Hera and the death of Atys, which Croesus laments unconsolably and for which he thrice blames Zeus by 11 The expression τὸ θεῖον (neuter singular) should be taken as collective (οἱ θεοί) or abstract (the divinity, the divine nature). Cf. Asheri et al. 2007, 102. 12 For other passages in classical Greek literature where the idea that it is hard to tell a person is happy until his or her death, cf. Harrison 2000, 38–39, n. 17. 13 Author’s translation. 14 One may also add that Itys is denied to lead armies (Hist. 1. 34. 3), whereas Tellus dies at the zenith of his military prowess.

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calling out his name (Hist. 1. 44. 2).15 The foreboding remark following Solon’s dismissal, together with these subtle correspondences and contrasts between Solon’s two examples and Croesus’ loss of his son, seem to endorse Solon’s view of the transience of human fortune based on divine jealousy.16

4. Correspondence with Messages of Advisers Various speakers in Herodotus’ Histories repeat the idea of the transience of human fortune. Notably, this idea is uttered by those figures who act as advisers. After realizing the truth of Solon’s message and his rescue from the burning fire, Croesus becomes an adviser to Cyrus. When Croesus gives advice to Cyrus concerning the battle against the Massagetae, he added a reflection on the human lot: But if you know that you are also a human as those whom you rule, then learn this first: There is a wheel of human affaires, which turns around and does not allow the same people to prosper for ever. (Hist. 1. 207)17

The turning of a wheel in this utterance illustrates the future downfall of a person at the height of prosperity.18 A turning wheel works in a similar way to the divine jealousy in Solon’s message. Divine jealousy is mentioned by Amasis, the Egyptian king, in a letter to his friend and ally, Polycrates, the tyrant of Samos. Polycrates succeeded in all his military operations after he became the tyrant of Samos. Amasis was worried about Polycrates’ excessive success: But these great successes of yours do not please me who know that the divinity (τὸ θεῖον) is jealous (φθονερόν). Αnd somehow I desire myself and those whom I care both to succeed and to fail in affairs, so to lead a life doing well and ill rather than to succeed in all. For from what I have heard, I know no one yet who, having been succeeding in all, did not at the end die in utter calamity. (Hist. 3. 40. 2–3)19

Amasis worries that Polycrates’ continued successes might invite divine jealousy, and recommends in this letter that Polycrates throw away a treasure dear to him. Polycrates throws away a precious seal ring from a ship far off the coast of Samos and grieves about the loss (Hist. 3. 41). But this seal ring is returned to him by a fisherman who catches a fish that has swallowed it (Hist. 3. 42). After all his successes, Polycrates is later treacherously lured to Magnesia. He is cruelly 15 This contrast is enhanced by the silence about the mother’s immediate reaction to her sons’ death in Solon’s account. 16 Shapiro 1996, 352. For the idea of the divine jealousy, cf. Dodds 1951, 30–34. 17 Author’s translation. 18 Cf. Natatsukasa 1986, 26–37 (in Japanese, with English summary on pages 148–49). 19 Author’s translation.

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murdered and his corpse impaled on a stake (Hist. 3. 125). This end of Polycrates proves Amasis’ anxiety right. Artabanus, a brother of Darius and an uncle of Xerxes, acts as an adviser to both Persian kings. He combines the idea of the transience of human fortune with the concept of divine jealousy in his advice to Xerxes, opposing his planned expedition to Greece: For the god (ὁ θεός) is accustomed to cut short all things protruding. Thus a large army is destroyed by a small one in this manner; when the god (ὁ θεός) having felt jealousy (φθονήσας) sends panic fear or thunderbolt among them, through these they perish unworthily (ἀναξίως) of themselves. For the god (ὁ θεός) does not allow anyone other than himself to have proud thoughts. (Hist. 7. 10ε. 1)20

Artabanus uses a participial form of the verb φθονέω (‘to feel jealousy’), which is cognate with the adjective φθονερός (‘jealous’) used by Solon and Amasis. It should be noted that a large army perishes “unworthily,” which seems to imply that the cause of the defeat is not any impious or wicked act worthy of punishment, but only that the army is large and they are proud of it. Artabanus, again, combines the transience of human fate with the jealousy of the gods in his words to Xerxes when the king reviews his whole expeditionary army at Abydos. Seeing the vast army under his control, Xerxes feels happy at first, but then he sheds tears, pondering the brevity of human life since none among this host would be alive in one hundred years time (7. 45–46). Artabanus reminds Xerxes of other human misfortunes: Misfortunes keep falling upon us and diseases keep troubling us, so they make life to seem long although it is short. Thus, life being so troublesome, death has become a most desirable refuge from it; the god (ὁ θεός) is found to be jealous (φθονερός) in that he has given only a taste of sweet life. (Hist. 7. 46. 3–4)21

The remark that death has become a most desirable refuge from human misery seems to be an echo of the death given to Cleobis and Biton as the best blessing recounted by Solon. Themistocles mentions the jealousy of the gods as he comments on the victory of the Greeks in the battle of Salamis: For it is not we that achieved this victory, but gods and heroes (θεοί τε καὶ ἥρωες), who felt jealousy (ἐφθόνησαν) for one man (i. e. Xerxes) to reign over both Asia and Europe, an impious and wicked man, who dealt with temples and homes alike, burning and overthrowing the images of the gods. He even scourged the sea and threw fetters into it. (Hist. 8. 109. 3)22

20 Author’s

translation. translation. 22 Author’s translation. 21 Author’s

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Themistocles is not giving advice but reflecting on Xerxes’ defeat. One should note that Themistocles mentions the “impious and wicked” acts of Xerxes, so the implication of punishment or divine retribution is added to the defeat, in addition to divine jealousy. The programmatic statement by Herodotus declaring the principle of his inquiry in the Histories emphasizes the transience of human fortune: After mentioning one man (i. e. Croesus), I will proceed further in my story, dealing with small and great states alike. For, of formerly great states, many have become small, and those, which were great in my time, were small before. Therefore, knowing that human prosperity never stays in the same place, I will mention alike both of them. (Hist. 1. 5. 3–4)23

In this passage, the transience of the prosperity of states, as well as of people, is deemed almost as a universal rule. This sense of the almost inevitable downfall from prosperity to ruin has an affinity with the idea of divine jealousy. Because the idea of the transience of human fortune based on divine jealousy, which first appears in Solon’s remark to Croesus, repeats in the mouths of Amasis, Artabanus and Themistocles and has affinity with Herodotus’ programmatic statement and Croesus’ advice to Cyrus, one can conclusde that this is a message that Herodotus intends to emphasize in his Histories. Since the concept of divine jealousy does not appear in Solon’s extant poetic fragments,24 it seems to be the case that Solon is made to declare Herodotean message in book 1 of the Histories.

5. Comparison of Herodotean Solon’s Message with Solon’s Poetic Fragments Chiasson points out the necessity for a closer comparison of the message of Herodotean Solon and the extant poetic fragments of Solon in order to grasp how Herodotus constructed the figure of this wise statesman/poet.25 Herodotus explicitly refers to the content of at least one of Solon’s poems,26 and it is probable that he knew other poems. The most important of Solon’s poems in this respect is the Elegy to the Muses (13W). I will investigate the influence of the Elegy to the Muses in the next section, while examining possible correspondences with other poetic fragments of Solon in this section.

23 Author’s

translation. 1986, 249, n. 1 criticizes Nauratil 1942, 1–8 for deriving the concept of ‘jealous’ deity from Solon’s poetical fragments. 25 Chiasson 1986, 249. See also Harrison 2000, 36–38. 26 Solon’s fr. 19 West is alluded to at Hist. 5. 113. 24 Chiasson

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Οne possible correspondence between Solon’s poetical fragments and Herodotean Solon’s message to Croesus is the consideration of happiness. Croesus asks Solon who is ὀλβιώτατος “the happiest man” (Hist. 1. 30. 2). Solon replies that the happiest is Tellus, and the second happiest are Cleobis and Biton, and enumerates what constitutes their happiness. One fragment of Solon describes one who is happy: ὄλβιος, ᾧ παῖδές τε φίλοι καὶ μώνυχες ἵπποι καὶ κύνες ἀγρευταὶ καὶ ξένος ἀλλοδαπός. (fr. 23) Happy is he who has dear boys, horses of uncloven hoof, hunting dogs and a friend in foreign parts. (Gerber, LCL)

It should be noted that the adjective ὄλβιος applied to a happy person in this fragment is the same adjective used in the conversation between Croesus and Solon in Herodotus’ Histories. This fragment is also similar to Herodotean Solon’s utterance enumerating the elements of happiness, and the enumerated elements of happiness partially overlap with the constituents of Tellus’ and the Argive brothers’ happiness.27 Another possible correspondence with Solon’s poem in Solon’s message to Croesus is the seventy-year limit of human life. Herodotean Solon says: ἐς γὰρ ἑβδομήκοντα ἔτεα οὖρον τῆς ζόης ἀνθρώπῳ προτίθημι, “For I fix the limit of life for a human being as seventy years” (Hist. 1. 32. 2). In fr. 27, Solon divides human life into stages, each of which consists of seven years. The tenth stage (up to seventy years) completes this fragment:28 τὴν δεκάτην δ᾽ εἴ τις τελέσας κατὰ μέτρον ἵκοιτο, οὐκ ἂν ἄωρος ἐὼν μοῖραν ἔχοι θανάτου. (fr. 27, 17–18) If one were to complete stage after stage and reach the tenth, he would not have death’s allotment prematurely. (Gerber, LCL)

In this poem, Solon enumerates the events that occur in each of the stages. In the first seven years, teeth (milk teeth) grow and fall out. In the second, the signs of puberty appear. In the third, the beard begins to grow and the colour of the skin changes. In the fourth, one is at the height of strength. In the fifth, people think about marriage and desire to have children. In the sixth, the mind is prepared in everything and foolish acts are not committed. In the seventh and eighth, one receives the highest respect for their mind and speech. In the ninth, people are still able, but speech and wisdom become weaker. Lastly in the tenth, as quoted above, people are ready to die.29 This enumeration of different events in each stage of human life may have provided a suggestion for Herodotus’ representation 27 Harrison

2000, 37. 1986, 261–62. See also Harrison 2000, 37. 29 Another of Solon’s poetic fragments (fr. 20. 3) states that death at eighty years old is desirable. 28 Chiasson

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of Solon as claiming that all the days in one’s life bring different events (Hist. 1. 32. 4). Different events in each seven-year stage in Solon’s poem may have been extrapolated to different events on each day.

6. Intertextuality between the Elegy to the Muses and the Croesus Episode in Histories 1 Versnel points out that among Solon’s poems, the Elegy to the Muses presents a notable correspondence with the Croesus episode in Herodotus’ Histories in terms of shared ideas, so one can speak of ‘intertextuality’ between the two.30 Furthermore, Gagné advances understanding of the intertextuality between the Elegy to the Muses and Herodotus’ Histories 1. He persuasively shows how, on the one hand, the concept of human instability and the concept of the certain accomplishment of divine justice are arranged in the Elegy to the Muses,31 and, on the other hand, that these ideas are reflected not only in the meeting of Croesus and Solon, but also in the wider context of the meeting in Histories 1.32 The following exposition of the structure of the Elegy to the Muses adopts Gagné’s interpretation. The Elegy to the Muses opens with an invocation to the Muses: Μνημοσύνης καὶ Ζηνὸς Ὀλυμπίου ἀγλαὰ τέκνα, Μοῦσαι Πιερίδες, Κλῦτέ μοι εὐχομένῳ· ὄλβον μοι πρὸς θεῶν μακάρων δότε καὶ πρὸς ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων αἰεὶ δόξαν ἔχειν ἀγαθήν· (13W, 1–4) Resplendent daughters of Memory and Olympian Zeus, Pierian Muses, hearken to my prayer. Grant that I have prosperity from the blessed gods and a good reputation always from all men. (Gerber, LCL)

Using the first person singular pronoun μοι twice (lines 2 and 3), the narrator pronounces his wish for the acquisition of prosperity given by gods and for a good reputation among humans. The narrator then elaborates his wish for prosperity: χρήματα δ᾽ ἱμείρω μὲν ἔχειν, ἀδίκως δὲ πεπᾶσθαι οὐκ ἐθέλω· πάντως ὕστερον ἦλθε δίκη. (13W, 7–8) I long to have money, but I am unwilling to possess it unjustly, for retribution assuredly comes afterwards. (Gerber, LCL)

30 Versnel 2011, 186: “There can hardly be any doubt about intertextuality here, nor about its recognition by the readers, even if many of the themes were ubiquitous in a wide range of archaic poetry and Herodotus created his own variations and additions.” 31 Gagné 2013, 226–49. 32 Gagné 2013, 325–43.

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The narrator, using two first person singular verbs in two lines (ἱμείρω [7], ἐθέλω [8]), declares his wish to possess money on the one hand, but also his reluctance to earn it unjustly, mentioning the sure accomplishment of retribution. The distinction between the wealth endowed by gods, which is stable, and the unjustly acquired wealth that ends in ruin is further described (9–14). Then the sure accomplishment of Zeus’ retribution over time is described with a simile of a spring gust of wind that blows away clouds (15–24). Then follows a reference to the visitation of divine retribution: τοιαύτη Ζηνὸς πέλεται τίσις· οὐδ᾽ ἐφ᾽ ἑκάστῳ ὥσπερ θνητὸς ἀνὴρ γίγνεται ὀξύχολος, αἰεὶ δ᾽ οὔ ἑ λέληθε διαμπερές, ὅστις ἀλιτρὸν θυμὸν ἔχει, πάντως δ᾽ ἐς τέλος ἐξεφάνη· ἀλλ᾽ ὁ μὲν αὐτίκ᾽ ἔτεισεν, ὁ δ᾽ ὕστερον· οἳ δὲ φύγωσιν αὐτοί, μηδὲ θεῶν μοῖρ᾽ ἐπιοῦσα κίχῃ, ἤλυθε πάντως αὖτις· ἀναίτιοι ἔργα τίνουσιν ἢ παῖδες τούτων ἢ γένος ἐξοπίσω. (13W, 25–32) Such is the vengeance of Zeus. He is not, like a mortal man, quick to anger at every incident, but anyone who has a sinful heart never ever escapes his notice and in the end he is assuredly revealed. But one man pays the penalty at once, another later, and if they themselves escape the penalty and the pursuing destiny of the gods does not overtake them, it assuredly comes at another time; the innocent pay the penalty, either their children or a later progeny. (Gerber, LCL)

This passage (25–32) concludes the first half of the Elegy to the Muses and emphasizes the inevitability of divine punishment with the notable suggestion that the punishment may be delayed and visit the offspring of the culprit generations later.33 The second half begins with the recognition that humans cannot anticipate the visitation of suffering: θνητοὶ δ᾽ ὧδε νοέομεν ὁμῶς ἀγαθός τε κακός τε, †ἐν δηνην† αὐτὸς δόξαν ἕκαστος ἔχει, πρίν τι παθεῖν· τότε δ᾽ αὖτις ὀδύρεται· ἄχρι δὲ τούτου χάσκοντες κούφαις ἐλπίσι τερπόμεθα. (13W, 33–36) We mortals, however, whatever our estate, perceive like this: the expectation which each one has is progressing well,34 until he suffers some mishap, and then afterwards he wails. But until then we take eager delight in empty hopes. (Gerber, LCL [modified35])

The rest of the last half of the Elegy to the Muses goes on to describe how humans expect their own state to be otherwise than the reality (37–42). It provides a list of human professions (43–62) and emphasizes the inscrutability of god-sent 33 Gagné

2013, 228. text is corrupt in line 34. The translation here follows Büchner and Theiler’s emendation εὖ ῥεῖν ἣν (cited in the apparatus criticus of Gerber’s text). 35 Departure from Gerber’s translation consists in taking δ᾽ (33) as adversative. 34 The

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outcomes of human endeavours (63–70). The poem ends with a reference to wealth, which humans desire endlessly, and which may result in ruin as divine punishment (71–76). The first half of the Elegy to the Muses asserts the sure accomplishment of divine punishment, and the last half largely emphasizes the futility of human expectations and the inscrutability of outcome, especially disaster, for human endeavours. For the question of the unity of this elegy, for which there has been a long discussion,36 Gagné persuasively shows that “the second half of the text covers the same ground and reflects the same object as the first half.”37 The first half, with the use of first person singular expressions, expounds disasters as accomplishments of divine punishment from the perspective of the poet. The second half, with the use of first person plural verbs with their subject ‘we mortals (θνητοί [33])’ at the beginning, instead views the divinely ordained disasters as inscrutable. Gagné further points out that the passage concerning the postponement of the divine punishment of ancestral transgressions later inflicted upon the culprit’s offspring generations (25–32) unites the two parts of the Elegy to the Muses:38 Since the divine punishment described in the first half may be inflicted on an innocent offspring of the culprit, it can appear as an inscrutable infliction of disaster as described in the latter half. Based on his interpretation of the structure of the Elegy to the Muses, Gagné further shows that the Croesus episode in Herodotus’ Histories 1 reflects Solon’s Elegy to the Muses more closely than had been recognized. He points out, on the one hand, that the last half of the elegy, with the idea of the inscrutability of divine will, is reproduced in Herodotean Solon’s teaching.39 And, on the other hand, the first half of the elegy with the idea of inevitable divine retribution including the delayed punishment on the culprit’s progeny, is reflected in the framework of the Croesus episode, i. e., the infliction of the divine punishment for Gyges’ usurpation of kingship on Croesus.40 The postponement of divine retribution for Gyges’ usurpation of kingship is clearly stated in two passages. First, when Gyges usurps the kingship, he receives 36 For

this discussion, see Gagné 2013, 229, n. 111. 234. 38 Ibid., 238. 39 Ibid., 336. 40 Ibid., 335–37. Divine retribution on impious or wicked deeds is also mentioned occasionally in Herodotus’ Histories as the cause of downfall from prosperity to ruin. For example, Cambyses injures a sacred calf, Apis, and the Egyptian view is that he becomes insane as retribution for that impious act (Hist. 3. 29–30, 33). Miltiades, while sieging Paros, commits an impious act in a precinct of Demeter and Core on Paros, injuring himself in his leg on the way back from the precinct and dying of the injury (Hist. 6. 134–36). Leotychides tells a story of Glaucus, who gave a false oath that he would give back money entrusted to him. Glaucus receives a Delphic oracle that his entire family and descendants would be wiped out and this is accomplished (Hist. 6. 86). The last instance involves divine retribution on the culprit’s descendants. 37 Ibid.,

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an oracle at Delphi that supports his kingship. This oracle includes a reference to the end of Gyges’ dynasty: On the other hand, the Pythian priestess says the following: the retribution on behalf of the Heraclidae41 will come upon the descendent of Gyges in the fifth generation.42 Of which utterance the Lydians and their kings took no account until it was fulfilled. (Hist. 1. 13. 2)43

After Croesus was defeated by Cyrus, Croesus is allowed to send an envoy to Delphi to blame the ingratitude for the sumptuous gifts which he dedicated to the sanctuary of Delphi (Hist. 1. 90). The reply from the priestess also includes a reference to delayed retribution: Croesus expiated the crime of the ancestor of the fifth generation, who, being a guard of the Heraclidae, murdered his master obeying the treachery of a woman and held his master’s status which did not belong to him. (Hist. 1. 91. 1)44

These two references to the retribution for Gyges’ crime on later offspring, placed shortly after Gyges’ usurpation of kingship and shortly after Croesus’ loss of kingship, form a framework for the account of the Gyges’ dynasty, which includes the meeting of Croesus and Solon. This outer framework of the Croesus episode corresponds to the first half of the Elegy to the Muses. Gagné’s elucidation provides perspective for one notable feature of Herodotean Solon’s message, i. e., the lack of emphasis on justice (δίκη).45 Chiasson suggests that Herodotus “de-moralized or a-moralized” the view of the transience of wealth in Solon’s poetic fragments.46 Justice is emphasized not only in the first half of the Elegy to the Muses, but also in other poems of Solon including 4W and 36W. Herodotean Solon’s silence about justice accords with his emphasis on divine jealousy (Hist. 1. 32. 1) and contingency (συμφορή, Hist. 1. 32. 4) in human life. Gagné demonstrates how Herodotus confines the accomplishment of divine justice to the outer frame of the Croesus episode and has his Solon refrain from mentioning it. I will come back to the implication of the ‘de-moralization’ of Herodotean Solon below. Gagné’s elucidation of the structural correspondence between the Elegy to the Muses and the Croesus episode invites the reader to look for echoes of this elegy not only in the scene of the meeting of Croesus and Solon but also in the wider context of the Croesus episode in Herodotus’ Histories 1. In the following, I

41 “The

Heraclidae” is the dynasty of Candaules, the master of Gyges. Greek expression ‘fifth’ (πέμπτος) counts Gyges’ generation as first. Croesus was the fifth king of the Mermnadae dynasty after Gyges, Ardys, Sadyattes and Alyattes. 43 Author’s translation. 44 Author’s translation. 45 δίκαιος at Hist 1. 32. 9 means ‘worthy of,’ not ‘just.’ 46 Chiasson 1986, 259–60. 42 The

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will examine possible verbal echoes of the Elegy to the Muses in the scene of the meeting of Croesus and Solon and in the wider context of the Croesus episode. Close to the end of the long utterance of Herodotean Solon, he asserts to Croesus that one must look to the end: σκοπέειν δὲ χρὴ παντὸς χρήματος τὴν τελευτήν (Hist. 1. 32. 9) And one must watch the end of all matter.47

This statement repeats almost word-for-word in the following narrative: τὴν τελευτὴν παντὸς χρήματος ὁρᾶν ἐκέλευε (Hist. 1. 33. 1) He bade to see the end of all matter.48

As has been pointed out, this assertion can be seen as a reflection of the motif of the human inability to know the outcome, which repeatedly appears in the last half of the Elegy to the Muses,49 including the following passage: …… οὐδέ τις οἶδεν ᾗ μέλλει σχήσειν χρήματος ἀρχομένου (13W, 65–66) …… and no one knows, when something starts, how it is going to turn out. (Gerber, LCL)

I would like to add that Herodotean Solon’s above quoted assertion reflects the following description of Zeus in the Elegy to the Muses word-for-word: ἀλλὰ Ζεὺς πάντων ἐφορᾷ τέλος (13W, 17) Zeus oversees every outcome. (Gerber, LCL)

Herodotean Solon’s advice and its recapitulation in narrative share with the description of Zeus in the Elegy to the Muses a verb of seeing (σκοπέειν, ὁρᾶν, ἐφορᾷ), the adjective πᾶς in the genitive (παντὸς, πάντων) and a word meaning ‘end’ (τελευτή, τέλος).50 Herodotean Solon’s message to Croesus, along with reflecting the motif of human short-sightedness in the Elegy to the Muses, may be seen, by the wording of the claim “look to the outcome,” as alluding to the description of the all-seeing Zeus in the same elegy. Another possible verbal echo of the Elegy to the Muses in the scene of the meeting of Croesus and Solon is the repeated use of the verb δοκέω in Croesus’ words in Histories 1. At the beginning of the last half of the Elegy to the Muses 47 Author’s

translation. translation. 49 Chiasson 1986, 261; Harrison 2000, 37. 50 Both the depiction of Croesus and Solon’s meeting in Herodotus’ Hist. 1 and Solon’s Elegy to the Muses abound in τέλος, τελευτή and their cognate words. In Hist. 1: τελευτή (30. 4; 31. 3; 32. 9; 33), τέλος (31. 5), τελευτάω (32. 5 (twice); 32. 7 (twice); 32. 9), διατελέω (32. 9). In the Elegy to the Muses (13W): τέλος (17; 28; 58), τελευτάω (15). It is noticeable that the verb τελευτάω, which is used to describe ἄτη (ruin), is used as many as five times by Herodotean Solon in reference to the outcome of human life. 48 Author’s

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(13W, 33–37) quoted above, there is a reference to δόξα ‘expectation’ of humans. Although the true reading of the corrupted beginning of line 34 is unrecoverable, it is almost certain that human δόξα is here conceived as fallible and associated with ‘empty hopes’ (13W, 37). The verb δοκέω, which is cognate with δόξα, is used twice in the following list of human expectations: ἄλλος δειλὸς ἐὼν ἀγαθὸς δοκεῖ ἔμμεναι ἀνήρ καὶ καλὸς μορφὴν οὐ χαρίεσσαν ἔχων εἰ δέ τις ἀχρήμων, πενίης δέ μιν ἔργα βιᾶται, κτήσεσθαι πάντως χρήματα πολλὰ δοκεῖ (13W 39–42) Another man of low estate considers that it’s high and that he’s handsome, though his form is without beauty. If someone is lacking means and is constrained by the effects of poverty, he thinks that he will assuredly acquire money. (Gerber, LCL: emphasis added)

The etymological link between the verb δοκέω used twice in these lines and δόξα only several lines before is obvious, and this link emphasizes the false human judgments about one’s own status, appearance and property as examples of the general fallibility of human expectations. In this connection, it is notable that the same verb is used repeatedly for Croesus’ expectations in the scene of his meeting with Solon. The first instance is in the description of Croesus when he asks Solon who is the second happiest man: Croesus further asked whom Solon saw as the second happiest after that man (i. e. Tellus), expecting entirely that he would at least carry the second prize (δοκέων πάγχυ δευτερεῖα γῶν οἴσεσθαι).51 (Hist. 1. 31. 1)52

The next instance of the application of the verb δοκέω to Croesus is at the end of the meeting with Solon (this time in the aorist participle form): Speaking these things, Solon did not in any way please Croesus. And Croesus sent him away, considering him to be of no account, thinking him to be very foolish (κάρτα δόξας ἀμαθέα εἶναι) who, disregarding present prosperity, bade him to see the end of all matter. (Hist. 1. 33. 1)53

The verb δοκέω is also used in the scene where Croesus is put on a pyre and is about to be burned. After Croesus calls Solon’s name three times from the top of the pyre, Cyrus becomes interested and asks Croesus about Solon with the help of interpreters. Croesus’ reply is reported in indirect speech: Croesus told them then that Solon, an Athenian, came first, and, having seen all his wealth, made light of it, and how all things happened to him just as Solon said, although Solon was saying less about him than about humanity in general, and especially about 51 When Croesus asks Solon the first question at the beginning of the meeting, Croesus hopes that he is the happiest: ὁ μὲν ἐλπίζων εἶναι ἀνθρώπων ὀλβιώτατος (Hist. 1. 31. 3). The verb ἐλπίζω is used here in a sense similar to δοκέω. 52 Author’s translation. 53 Author’s translation.

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those who seemed happy by themselves (καὶ μάλιστα τοὺς παρὰ σφίσι αὐτοῖσι ὀλβίους δοκέοντας εἶναι). (Hist. 1. 86. 5)54

Croesus here looks back on Solon’s message, recognizing that he correctly pointed out the fallible expectations of humans in general, including Croesus. These three instances of the verb δοκέω may reflect the sequence of δόξα and δοκέω in the Elegy to the Muses described above.55 I would like to suggest the identification of another instance of a possible verbal echo of the Elegy to the Muses in Croesus’ utterance on the pyre. And it occurred to Croesus, as he stood on the pyre, although in such an evil plight, that the saying of Solon was spoken by him with a god (ὥς οἱ εἴη σὺν θεῷ εἰρημένον) that no one among the living is happy. (Hist. 1. 86. 3)56

Pelling points out that the expression σὺν θεῷ (‘with [the help of a god]’) bears a nuance of “momentary inspiration,” and this shows that Croesus, now on the pyre, recognizes that the saying of Solon was a prediction.57 In fact, the art of prophesy is described with a similar expression in the list of human professions in the Elegy to the Muses: ἄλλον μάντιν ἔθηκεν ἄναξ ἑκάεργος Ἀπόλλων, ἔγνω δ᾽ ἀνδρὶ κακὸν τηλόθεν ἐρχόμενον, ᾧ συνομαρτήσωσι θεοί· τὰ δὲ μόρσιμα πάντως οὔτε τις οἰωνὸς ῥύσεται οὔθ᾽ ἱερά (13W 53–56) Another has been made a seer by lord Apollo who works from afar and, if the gods are with him, he sees a distant calamity coming upon a man; but assuredly neither augury nor sacrifice will ward off what is destined. (Gerber, LCL)

One may find a reflection of the expression in line 55 ᾧ συνομαρτήσωσι θεοί (‘if the gods are with him’) in Croesus’ words about Solon’s ‘prediction,’ which was spoken with a god, about the distant calamity that was approaching Croesus. In addition, the unalterability of destiny (τὰ μόρσιμα) in the above quoted passage (13W, 55–56) may be reflected in the wording of the unalterability of destiny even for Apollo in a Pythian’s reply to Croesus: It is impossible even for a god to evade the fixed destiny (τὴν πεπρωμένην μοῖραν ἀδύνατα ἐστὶ ἀποφυγεῖν καὶ θεῷ). Croesus expiated the crime of the ancestor of the fifth generation.… He (Apollo) could not alter the Fates (οὐκ οἷόν τε ἐγίνετο παραγαγεῖν Μοίρας). (Hist. 1. 91. 1–2)58 54 Author’s

translation. this connection, it may be significant that Croesus uses the verb δοκέω twice in his advice to Cyrus: εἰ μὲν ἀθάνατος δοκέεις εἶναι καὶ στρατιῆς τοιαύτης ἄρχειν “If you think that you are immortal and are leading such an army” (Hist. 1. 207. 2); νῦν ὦν μοι δοκέει διαβάντας προελθεῖν ὅσον ἂν ἐκεῖνοι ὑπεξίωσι “Now therefore it seems good to me to cross (the river) and proceed as far as they withdraw” (Hist. 1. 207. 5). 56 Author’s translation. 57 Pelling 2006, 157–59. 58 Author’s translation. 55 In

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The inalterability of destiny (τὴν πεπρωμένην, Μοῖραι) even for Apollo is emphasized by repeating the same notion with different wording. The rhetorical device of auxesis is utilized in this doubling of the notion applied first to birds and rituals, then even to Apollo. It should be noted that this utterance by a Phythian priestess contains a reference to the postponed accomplishment of the divine punishment for Gyges for several generations between the two expressions of the unalterability of destiny. This is probably a reflection of the same elegy of Solon. The accumulation of possible resonances of the Elegy to the Muses in the wider context of the Croesus episode in Herodotus’ Hestories 1 examined above supports the intertextuality advocated by Gagné.

7. Conclusion Whether Herodotus created the episode of the meeting of Croesus and Solon or adopted an existing version of it, he certainly formed Solon’s utterance in line with those of advisor figures that mention divine jealousy and with the notion of rise and fall as the general rule of the world in the Histories. Herodotus, however, also endeavored to incorporate correspondences with Solon’s poems, most notably with the Elegy to the Muses, to add probability or likeness of Solon’s statement. Considering that Herodotus knew Solon’s poems well and adopted their expression of ideas, he probably suppressed the poet’s emphasis on justice and divine retribution. Herodotean Solon is ‘de-moralized’ and instead made to emphasize divine jealousy and the contingency in human life. The reference to the accomplishment of divine punishment for Gyges’ crime is instead confined to the two Delphic responses in the framework of the Croesus episode. As Gagné has shown, Herodotus probably took a suggestion as to this distinction between Herodotean Solon’s message and its outer frame from the first half and the second half of the Elegy to the Muses.59 One might at the same time consider the literary effect of the presence of the ‘de-moralized’ Solon, who remains silent in front of Croesus about the certain (and possibly delayed) accomplishment of divine retribution.60 The course of the dialogue in which Solon could have spoken of a punishment for an ancestral transgression but did not and the fact that Croesus did not think of the possibility of such a punishment for himself make the statement following the Pythian priestess’ prediction of the delayed punishment for Gyges on his remote descendant all the more impactful: “Of which utterance the Lydians and their kings took no account until it was fulfilled” (Hist. 1. 13. 2). 59 Gagné

2013, 338.

60 Pelling 2006, 142–55 may be right in detecting ‘political correctness’ in Herodotean Solon

who might have suppressed the suggestion that the king’s manner may invite divine jealousy.

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List of Contributors Israel Finkelstein, Professor of the Archaeology of Israel in the Bronze and Iron Ages at Tel Aviv University. Jin H. Han, Professor of Biblical Studies at New York Theological Seminary Shuichi Hasegawa, Professor of Biblical Studies at Rikkyo University Yigal Levin, Associate Professor of Jewish History at Bar-Ilan University Johannes Unsok Ro, Professor of Biblical Studies at International Christian University Thomas Römer, Professor of Hebrew Bible Studies at Collège de France Yoshinori Sano, Professor of Classical Greek Literature at International Christian University Konrad Schmid, Professor of Old Testament Studies at the University of Zurich

Index of Ancient Sources Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Genesis 4–5, 17 37–45 65 41:40 65 41:42 65 Leviticus 17, 21, 23, 26, 29, 54 26:6 73 Numbers 13:21 58 21–22 23 34:8 58 Deuteronomy 54, 55 5:28 108 6:4–5 67 6:4 75 6:14 110 8:16 108 8:19 110 9:14 57 9:21 108 10:18 103 11:28 110 12:11 112 13:3 110 13:15 108 14:23 112 14:29 103 16:2 112 16:6 112 16:11 103, 112 16:14 103 17:4 108 18:17 108 19:10 110 19:18 108 24:17 103 24:19 103 24:20 103 24:21 103 26:2 112 26:12 103

26:13 103 27:8 108 27:19 103 28 54 28:14 110 28:53 91 28:61 91 28:63 108 29:19 57 30:5 108 34 53 34:9 53 Joshua 5, 24, 54 13:5 58 24 54 24:20 108 Judges 2:12 110 2:19 108 3–12 23 17:13 108 19:1 110 19:22 108 1 Samuel 25 1 126 1:1 126, 130 2:32 108 6:15 130 9:25 34 10:5 34 16 126 16:17 108 20:13 108 25:31 108 2 Samuel 21, 23–24 2:9 130 5:1–3 129 5:3–4 36 5:3 126

176 5:6–9 124 6:2 112 8:3 26 8:5 26 8:12 26 10:6–8 26 11 36 13:23 130 15:24 130 18:6 130 23 124 1 Kings 1–2 2, 25 1:47 108 2:10–12 36 3:1 33 3:2 33–34 3:2a 38 3:2b 38, 43 3:3 34 3:4–15 34 4:17 130 4:18 130 8:4 130 8:33–50 114–15 8:43 112 8:65 58 9:15 25–26 11 26 11:6 34 11:9–13 68 11:10 110 11:11–13 128 11:12–13 115 11:26 130 11:32–39 115 11:46 34, 36–37 12 59–60 12:20 129 12:25–29 27 12:26–33 44–45, 49 12:31 130 13:34 68–69 14:9 48, 92 14:15–16 48, 49 14:16 92 14:22 12, 48 14:25–28 37 15:3 37–38, 92, 127 15:4 115 15:5 36–37 15:11 37, 127

Index of Ancient Sources 15:12–13 37 15:13 37 15:14 37–38, 45 15:14a 37 15:14b 37 15:15 37, 51 15:26 92 15:27 130 15:30 92 15:34 92 16:2 92 16:7 92 16:13 92 16:15–28 56 16:19 92 16:25 48, 56 16:26 92 16:30 43, 48 16:31–32 43 16:33 35, 36, 43, 48, 51, 92 21:22 92 21:29 69 22–52 38 22:44 33, 34–35 22:52–53 42 22:53 42, 43, 92 22:54 42–43, 92 2 Kings 72, 74, 75 1:17 38 3 39 3:1–3 10, 12 3:2–3 38–39, 40–41, 42–44 3:2 35, 36, 38, 40–42, 48, 49 3:2a 38 3:2aβ-3 42 3:2b 39, 41–42, 43, 44, 47 3:3 92 3:7–22 49 8:19 115 8:27 127 9:22 43 9:30 108 10 39, 45 10:18–28 35–36 10:25–27 39–40 10:25b–27 41 10:26–27 38–39, 40–41, 42, 43, 44, 51 10:27 40, 41 10:29 44–45, 92 10:30 45 10:31 45, 92 10:32–33 45

Index of Ancient Sources 10:32 42, 45 10:33 130 11:5–6 46 11:18 108 12 62 12:1 62 12:4 34–35 12:17–18 37 12:20–21 45 13:2 92 13:3 42 13:4 35 13:5 35 13:6 33, 35–36, 45 13:7 35, 36 13:11 92 13:22–25 58 13:23 58 13:25 58 13:25a 42 13:28 58 14 37, 57 14:1–3 10, 12 14:3 45–46, 48, 49 14:4 34–35, 46 14:5–17 45 14:5–6 46 14:7 45 14:8–14 45 14:17 58 14:19–20 45 14:23–29 57–58, 59 14:24 92 14:25 59 14:26–27 57, 59 14:28–29 59 14:28 42 15:4 34–35 15:5 124 15:9 92 15:14 45 15:18 92 15:24 92 15:28 92 15:29 59 15:35a 34–35 16 63 17 60, 61, 96 17:1–2 10, 12 17:2 46–49 17:7–22 49 17:10 36 17:11 92

17:15 110 17:16 44–45, 48, 92 17:17 92 17:21 92 17:22 35, 48 17:24–28 61 18–19 70, 115 18:4 44 18:5 67 19 116, 118 19:10–11 115 19:21 115–16 19:31 115–16 19:35 116 20 70 20:12–19 70 20:15 70 20:16–18 70 20:17 85 21 56, 92–93 21:1–10 92 21:3 44, 92 21:5 92 21:6 92 21:9 48 21:10–15 49 21:11 48, 92 21:16–17 49 21:16 92, 110 21:17 92 22–23 61–63, 73 22 62 22:2 67 22:14–20 71 22:16–17 49 22:18–20 62 22:21–23 62 23 62, 69, 71–72, 96 23:1–3 62 23:1 62 23:8 34, 44 23:11 62 23:12 63 23:15 62, 92 23:19 71, 92, 129 23:22 126 23:25a 67 23:25b 67 23:26–27 49, 68, 76 23:26 92–93 23:29–30 44 23:29 68, 73 23:29a 71

177

178

Index of Ancient Sources

23:29b 72 23:30 72, 74 24–25 10, 12–13, 81–98, 112 24 85–97 24:1–2 91 24:1 91 24:2–4 91, 93, 95 24:2–3 90–91 24:2 91 24:2b 91 24:3–4 49, 91–92 24:3 55, 92 24:4 110 24:12 87, 93 24:13 13, 85, 87 24:13–14 87, 93, 95 24:14–16 86–87 24:14 13, 85, 87 24:15–16 87, 93 24:15 87 24:16 87 24:18–20 83 24:18 88 24:19–20 83 24:20 55 24:20b 83 24:26 91 25 55, 65, 82–84, 85, 88, 89, 90–97 25:1–2 83 25:1 88 25:3 83 25:6 88 25:7 88, 89 25:8–17 115 25:9 84 25:9a 89 25:10 84 25:11–12 89 25:11 13, 84, 85 25:12 84, 89 25:13–17 13, 84, 85, 89–90 25:13 40 25:18–21 84, 90 25:22–26 84, 90 25:22 89 25:27–30 64, 65, 76, 84, 90 25:27 64 25:28 65 25:29 65 Isaiah 1:1 53

1:17 103 1:23 103 7:2 69 10:2 103 36–37 70 38:8 63 40:1–2 95–96 Jeremiah 99–119 1–45 99 1–25 99 1:4 102–03 1:10 91 2:5 110 2:23 110 2:33 103, 107 4:18 108 4:22 103 5:19 110 7 99–101, 107, 119 7:1–15 101–02 7:1–12 13, 100–19 7:1–8:3 99 7:1 102–03 7:2–15 101 7:3–7 116 7:3 103, 107–08 7:4 106–07, 114–15, 116, 118 7:5 107–08 7:6 101, 103–04, 106, 109, 110 7:7 101 7:8 106–07, 114 7:9 110 7:10 108, 112, 114, 115, 116 7:11 112 7:12 101, 102, 110, 111–14 7:13–15 101, 102, 103 7:13 102 7:14 101, 102, 112 7:16 101 11:1–5 99 11:1 102 11:9–14 99 12:2 13, 118 13–15 103 13:20–22 85, 95–96 13:23 103 15:4 92 17:10 108 17:12 113–14 17:26 113 18:1–12 99 18:1 102

179

Index of Ancient Sources 18:7 91 18:11 103, 108 19:3 63 20:1–13 106–07, 113, 114 20:1–6 105, 106 20:6 106 20:7–13 13, 105–06, 118 20:12 105 20:13 104, 105, 106, 110 21:1–10 99 22:1–5 116, 118 21:1 102 22:3 103, 110 22:28–30 89 23:22 108 24 94–95 24:1 113 24:6–7 94 25:1–11a 99 25:1 102 25:5 108 26:1–19 112 26:2–6 101, 118 26:3 108 27–29 87 27–28 94 27:2–11 88 27:2–4 88 27:19–21 86 29:16–20 95 30–31 99 30:1 102 31:28 91 32 94 32:1–2 99 32:1 102 32:4–5 88 32:6–16 99 32:24 44, 99 32:34 112 32:40–41 13, 118 34:1–7 99 34:1 102 34:8–22 76, 99 34:8 102 34:15 112 35:1–19 99 35:1 102 35:15 103, 108 37–44 87 37–38 94 37:5 88 39–43 88

39–41 90 39 88 39:1–6 88 39:6 88 40f 89 40:1 102 44:1–14 99 44:1 102 50:28 113 51:11 113 51:51 113–14 52 88, 112 52:6 83 52:28–30 88 Ezekiel 95 1:2 95 8:1 95 12:19 95 14:21–23 95 15:8 95 20:2 95 22:7 103 26:1 95 29:1 95 29:17 95 30:20 95 31:1 95 32:1 95 32:17 95 33:21–29 95 33:21 95 40:1 95 47:20 58 48:1 58 Hosea

60

Amos 6:13 58–59 7:10–17 59 7:13 59 Zechariah 7:10 103 Malachi 3:5 103 Psalms 9:13 110 79:10 110 146:9 103

180

Index of Ancient Sources

Lamentations 1:7–8 95 1:18 73 Esther 6:10–11 65 8–15 65 10:3 65 Daniel 2–6 65 2:48 65 5:29 65 Ezra

28

Nehemiah

17, 28, 30

1 Chronicles 5:25–26 129 6:13 126 6:18 126 7:27 125–26 9:22 126 11:1–3 129–30 11:2–4 128–29 11:3 126 11:4–8 124 11:9–10 124 11:10–47 124 11:11 124 11:13–16 124 12 124 12:1–23 130 12:24–41 130 13–16 124

13 124 13:5 58 14 124–25 17–25 124 26:28 126 27:16–22 130 29:29 126 2 Chronicles 28 7:8 58 14:1 127–28 14:19 128 16:12 128 22:4 127 24:17–18 127 26:21 124 30:1 129 30:10–11 129 32 70 32:31 70 33:11–12 127 34:6–7 71 34:6 129 34–35 73 34:21 73, 74 35:18 126, 129 35:21 74 35:22–23 74 35:22–23a 74 35:22 73, 74 35:22a 74 35:22b 73 35:23b–24 74 35:24 74 35:24b–25 74 36 84

Targum Lamentations 1:18 73

Apocrypha 1 Esdras 1:26–27 73 1:26 74 1:28 74

1:29 74 1:30–31 74 1:31a 74 1:31b–32 74

181

Index of Ancient Sources

Early Jewish Authors Philo of Alexandria 123

Flavius, Josephus 123 Antiquities of the Jews 10.75 74–75

Ancient Near Eastern and Epigraphic Sources Babylonian Chronicles 60, 74 2–5 82–83 5 86 5.12–13 83 Berossus

Nebuchadnezzar II Tablets

64–65

Nimrud Prism 60 Sargon II

55, 123

Annals

Enuma Elish 63 Hebrew ostracon from Yavneh-yam  (Meşad Hashavyahu) 71

60

Great Summary Inscription 24

Classical Authors Herodotus Histories 1 1 (Introduction) 1 5.3–4 1 7–13 1 13.2 1 14–25 1 26–28 1 29–33 1 29–30 1 30.2 1 30.4 1 31.1 1 31.3 1 31.4 1 32.1 1 32.2 1 32.4 1 32.9 1 33.1 1 34–45 1 34.1

55, 69, 122, 123, 135–50 135, 141 55 141 135 145–46, 150 135 135 135 135, 136 142 138 148 138 138 138, 146 142 142–43, 146 138, 147 147, 148 135 138

1 44.2 1 46–70 1 53 1 71–84 1 85–87 1 86.3 1 86.5 1 90 1 91.1–2 1 91.1 1 207 2 157 2 159.2 3 40.2–3 3 41 3 42 3 125 7 10ε.1 7 45–46 7 46.3–4 8 109.3

138–39 135 135 135 135 149 148–49 146 149 146 139 69 69 139 139 139 139–40 140 140 140 140

Manetho 123

182 Marcellinus, Ammianus 77 Plutarch Life of Solon 136 Solon 139 4W 146 13W (Elegy to the Muses) 141–43, 143–50 13W 1–4 143 13W 7–8 143 13W 9–14 144 13W 15–24 144 13W 17 147 13W 25–32 144, 145 13W 33–37 147–48 13W 33–36 144 13W 33 145 13W 37–42 144

Index of Ancient Sources 13W 37 148 13W 39–42 148 13W 43–62 144 13W 53–56 149 13W 55 149 13W 63–70 144–45 13W 65–66 147 13W 71–76 145 36W 146 Solon Poetic Fragments 14, 141, 141–43 fr. 23 fr. 27 fr. 27. 17–18

142 142 142

Thucydides History of the Peloponnesian War 1.22 55

Index of Modern Authors Albright, W. F. ​4–5, 15–16 Alt, A. ​4–5 Arie, E. ​59 Auld, G.  A. ​121

Japhet, S. ​126, 128 Jones, D.  R. ​101

Baker, C. ​117 Barstad, H. ​6 Barth, K. ​3 Beentjes, P. C. ​124, 132, 133 Ben Zvi, E. ​5–6, 122, 128, 129, 131 Berlejung, A. ​59 Bloch, M. ​17 Boer, R. ​132 Brettler, M. ​55 Bright, J. ​100–01 Bultmann, R.  K. ​3

Lemaire, A. ​39–40 Lemche, N. P. ​2, 4–6, 71 Levin, C. ​83 Lundbom, J.  R. ​101

Carlyle, T. ​76 Chiasson, C. C. ​14, 141, 146 Cogan, M. ​39 Conzelmann, H. ​3 Cross, F.  M. ​96 Davies, G. I. ​69, 71, 72 Davies, P. R. ​1, 5, 78 de Wette, W. M. L. 54 Duhm, B. ​99 Evans, R.  J. ​8–9 Finkelstein, I. ​57–59 Fohrer, G. ​100–01 Frisch, A. ​129 Fritz, V. ​58 Frost, S.  B. ​75 Gabler, J.  G. ​2 Gagné, R. ​43, 145–46, 150 Grabbe, L. L. ​5–6, 77 Grethlein, J. ​78 Harrison, T. ​14 Hesse, F. ​3 Hoffmann, H-D. ​39, 43 Holladay, W. ​101 Hyatt, P. ​99

Knauf, E.  A. ​56

Malamat, A. ​76 Morales, P.  T. ​48 More, T. ​133 Mowinckel, S. ​99–100 Na’aman, N. ​21, 47, 72 Newall, P. ​8 Nicholson, E.  W. ​100 Noth, M. ​54, 84 Otto, S. ​41 Pakkala, H. ​41–42 Pannenberg, W. ​3–4 Pelling, C. ​149 Person, R.  E. ​9 Petrie, F. ​15 Pfoh, E. ​7 Pohlmann, K-F. ​94, 95, 104–05, 107 Rad, G. von. ​3–4, 12, 84 Ranke, L. von ​55, 77 Rendtorff, R. ​3–4 Römer, T. ​23, 112 Rofé, A. ​32, 47 Rose, M. ​101 Rudolph, W. ​99 Sanda, A. ​46 Sandgren, L.  D. ​77 Sass, B. ​21 Schenker, A. ​40 Schmidt, W.  H. ​114 Schwartz, B. ​117 Schweitzer, S. ​132–33 Seidl, T. ​114

184 Sellin, E. ​15 Sharp, C.  J. ​112 Singer-Avitz, L. ​59 Smolarikova, K. ​70 Spieckermann, H. 40, 41 Spinoza, B. ​15, 54 Stanford, M. ​8 Stulman, L. ​109–12 Tadmor, H. ​39 Thiel, W. ​100, 102–03, 107, 112 Thompson, T. ​4–5

Index of Modern Authors Van Seters, J. ​4–5 Versnel, H.  S. ​143 Weinfeld, M. ​99–100 Weippert, H. ​46, 100–01 Weiser, A. ​100–01 Wellhausen, J. ​2, 15 Wilkens, U. ​3–4 Würthwein, E. ​91 Yadin, Y. ​15

Index of Subjects Abijah ​127 Abijam ​36–37, 45n, 127 Accumulated tradition ​26 Ahab ​26, 35–36, 38n, 39n, 43–44, 51, 69 Ahaz ​28, 45n, 63, 69, 127 Ahaziah ​38, 42, 43, 127 Ahijah the Shilonite ​128 Ai ​24 Akhenaton ​63 Albrightian School ​4–5, 16 Altian School ​4–5 Alyattes ​135, 146n Amasis ​136, 139, 141 – Letter to Polycrates ​139–40 Amaziah ​12, 33n, 45–46, 49, 59, 127 Ammon ​88 Amon ​70, 127 Amos ​59, 96 Aorist participle (Greek), use of ​148 Apiru bands ​23, 24, 39 Aram ​26, 58, 59, 69, 128 – Border with Israel ​23 Aramaic translation, Lamentations ​73 Archaeology ​11, 15–30 – History of Biblical archaeology ​15–17 – Interpretation of evidence ​11, 18 – Minimalist critique ​16 – Relationship with Biblical texts ​11, 15–30 Ardys ​135 Argive Brothers ​137, 138, 142 Ark ​22, 90, 124–25 Artabanus, Advice to Xerxes ​140 Asa ​37–38, 42, 45, 46, 50, 51, 127–28 – Comparison with David ​46 – Cult reform ​46 Ashdod. See Azodus Asherah ​35–36, 38n, 39, 50–51, 61, 62 Ashqelon, Conquest of ​86 Asshur-Uballit II ​71–72 Assyria ​28, 61, 62–63, 69–72, 115–16 – Conquest of Israel ​22, 115–16 – Deportation of Hosea ​47–48 – Relations with Judah ​27, 28, 29–30, 69–70 Assyrian annals ​60 Astral Cult ​61–63

Atys, Death of ​135, 138–39 Auxesis (rhetorical device) ​150 Azariah ​127 Azodus ​69 Baal ​35–36, 39, 42–44, 45, 62 – Altar ​39, 44 – Cult eradication ​41, 43, 44, 45, 49 – Pillars ​35–36, 38–39, 40, 41, 42–44, 49, 50, 51 – Temple ​39 Babylon ​12–13, 55, 61, 63, 64, 69, 70–71, 76, 83, 84, 88, 113 – Babylonian Deuteronomists ​55 – Fall ​65 – Invasion of Judah ​55, 60, 82, 91 – Jehoiachin, deportation ​80–87, 90, 93–94 – Palace ​64 Babylonian annals ​60 Babylonian exile ​53, 56, 65, 83, 87, 89, 93–94, 95 – Returnees ​103–04, 118 Bamôt, Destruction ​62 Baruch’s text ​99 Bathsheba ​36 Benjamin, Highlands of ​23–24 Benjamin, Tribe of ​129, 130, 132 Beth-Rebob (Aram) ​26 Bethel ​31, 44, 57, 59–60, 61, 62 Bible, Formation history ​2, 29–30 Bible, Narrative chronology ​53–54 Biblical authors, Ideology ​27, 30 Bito. See Argive Brothers Border sanctuaries ​59 Calf worship ​31, 44, 47–50, 59 Candaules, murder of ​135 Chronicler ​12, 13, 67, 73, 74, 77, 121–33 – Support of Temple ​123–25 Chronicles, Books of ​9n, 13, 20, 27, 28, 30, 46n, 65, 70, 73, 74, 86, 121–33 – Chronology ​121, 124–25 – Composition date ​28 – David ​126 – Genealogy in ​125–26, 132 – Levites ​131

186

Index of Subjects

– Priests ​130 – Prophets ​131–32 – Utopia, Chronicles as ​132–33 Cleobis. See Argive Brothers Conquest stories ​17 Contributors to publication, Common ­ideology ​10–11​ Copenhagen School ​5 Copper production ​16, 19 Croesus ​10, 13–14 – Advice to Cyrus ​139 – Burning pyre ​135–36, 148–49 – On happiness ​136 – Prophecy ​149 – Solon, Meeting with ​135–50 Cult reform ​46, 50 – Asa ​37, 46 – Hezekiah ​41, 46 – Hoshea ​47 – Jehu ​36, 41, 44–45, 49, 51​ – Joram ​44, 46, 49, 50 – Josiah ​41, 44, 50 Cyrus ​135, 139, 141, 146, 148 – Edict ​93–94 Damascene hegemony ​19, 26 Dan ​27, 30, 31, 44, 47n, 57, 59 Daniel, Book of ​65 David ​16, 21, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 34, 36–37, 58, 67, 124–25, 126, 127, 129–30, 131 – Conquest of Jerusalem ​124, 125 – Dynasty ​30, 55, 70, 115–16 – Palace ​17 David, City of ​16, 125 David, House of ​69, 129 Delphic oracle ​135, 145–46, 149–50 Destiny, immutability of ​149–50 Deuteronomic Law ​62 Deuteronomist ​13, 31–32, 39, 40, 41, 47, 55, 56, 59, 61, 67, 68–69, 71–72, 76 Deuteronomistic editorial layer. See Jeremiah, Book of Deuteronomistic History ​10–13, 20, 28, 31–32, 53–65, 67, 76, 77, 91, 93, 96 – Chronicler’s reinterpretation ​13, 121–33 – Chronology ​55 – Divine intervention in ​91 – Southern perspective ​20–21 Deuteronomistic ideology ​55–56, 75, 107 Deuteronomistic School ​33 Deuteronomistic style ​25, 26, 107, 109–14 Diaspora Novels ​65

Divine retribution ​135, 138–41, 144, 145–46, 150 Division of monarchy. See Monarchic ­division Editor. See Redactor Edom ​45, 88 Egypt ​69, 70, 71–72, 74, 88 – Geopolitics ​61, 69, 71, 73, 88 – Herodocus’ journey to ​136–37 – Jehoiaichin in ​90 – March to Megiddo ​74–76 Elegy to the Muses ​143–45 – Desire for wealth ​143–45 – Divine retribution ​144 – Futility of human expectations ​144–45 – Intertextuality with Herodotus Histories ​ 143–50 – Invocation ​143 – Narrator ​143–44 – Unity ​145 Enneateuch ​53–54 Enuma Elish ​63 Ephraim ​69, 129, 130, 132 – Genealogy ​125–26 Esarhaddon, Marduk worship ​63 Esther ​65 Evaluations of Kings. See Kings, Books of Evaluation, Qualifications of. See Qualifications of evaluations Exodus ​17, 21, 23, 26, 29, 53 – Kuntillet Ajrud ​21 – Tell Deir Alla Balaam text ​21 Ezekiel, Book of, dating system ​95 Ezra ​17, 28, 123 Fatherless. See Orphans Figs, Baskets of ​94, 113 Fortune, transience of ​139–41 Framing (interpretive process) ​117–18, 119 Gad, Tribe of. See Israel, Tribes of Gad the Visionary ​126 Gath ​21, 24, 25 Gedaliah ​84, 89, 90 Genealogy in Chronicles ​125–26 Genesis, Book of ​20, 53, 125 – Patriarchs ​4–5, 17, 20, 58 Geopolitics, 7th Century BCE ​70–71 Gezer ​25 Gods, Jealousy of ​139–40 Golah-oriented redaction ​94–95, 112n, 119

Index of Subjects Grace in Chronicles ​128 Gyges ​135, 145, 146, 150 – Dynasty ​135, 146 Hadadezer ​26 Hadadidri ​26 Hanani the Seer ​128 Happiness, Croesus’ view ​136 Happiness, Solon’s view ​137–39 Hasmoneans ​28, 30 Hazael ​24, 26, 37, 58 Hazor ​24, 25, 59 Heaven, Army of ​63 Hebrew Iron Age inscriptions ​21 Hellenistic Jewish literature ​30 Hera, Festival of ​137 Herodotean Solon ​146–47 Historicity ​14 – Philosophy ​145, 147 Herodotus ​135–50 – Histories ​135–50 – Intertextuality with Elegy to the Muses ​ 143–50 – Journey to Egypt ​136–37 – Philosophy ​141–43, 150 Hexateuch ​53–55 – Mythical history ​54–55 Hezekiah ​28, 35, 41, 44, 46, 56, 59, 67, 70, 92, 115, 116, 127, 129 – Capture in Jerusalem ​69 Hilkiah ​61 Hiphil form, Use of ​107–08 Hiram ​25, 124 Historical inquiry, Classical view of ​122 Historical interpretation ​81–82 – Ancient ​81–82 – Modern ​81 Historical Reconstruction ​76–78 Historicity ​1–10 Historiography and Crisis ​55 Hope, False ​148 Hosea ​60, 96 Hoshea ​12, 35, 46–49, 50 Huldah ​61, 71, 131 Human failings ​147, 148–49 Iron Age Chronology ​15 Iron Age Inscriptions, Hebrew ​21 Isaiah, Book of ​53, 63, 69, 70, 96, 115 Israel, ancient ​15, 28 – Contrast with Judah ​20–21 – Fall of ​22–23, 29, 44–45, 49 – History in context ​17–18

187

Iron Age ​16 – Late Monarchic period ​17 – Settlement patterns ​17 Israel, Borders ​23, 57, 58, 59 Israel, Kings of ​31–51, 96 Israel, Migration to Judah ​29–30 – Non-migrating population ​89–90, 95 Israel, Tribes of ​129–30 – Ashur ​130, 132 – Benjamin ​129, 130, 132 – Dan ​130 – Gad ​130 – Israel ​129 – Issachar ​130 – Judah ​129–32 – Manasseh ​130, 132 – Naphtali ​130 – Reuben ​130 – Simeon ​130, 132 – Zebulun ​130 Jacob ​58 Jacob Cycle ​23, 58 Jehoahaz ​35–36, 50, 58, 72, 73 – Military achievements ​58 Jehoash ​34–35, 37, 45, 46, 58, 62​ Jehoiachin ​12, 76, 83–84, 90, 95 – Exile ​64–65, 84, 86, 90, 94, 95 Jehoiahaz ​76 Jehoiakim ​64, 76, 91 Jehoiada ​127 Jehoshaphat ​34–35, 127 Jehu ​36, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44–45, 49, 51 Jeremiah ​13, 74, 75, 88, ​99–119 – Confessions ​13, 104–07 – Authorship ​104–07 – Eschatology ​105 – Post-Exilic source ​105–06 – Persecution of ​105–06, 116–17 – Preaching in Temple ​10, 13, 99–119 Jeremiah, Book of ​96, 99–119 – Deutero-Jeremianic phraseology ​109, 112 – Deuteronomistic editorial layer ​13, 99–119 – Editorial theology ​105–07 – Golah-oriented redaction ​112 – Heterogeneity ​99–104, 111–12, 118 – Jeremianic phraseology ​109 – Marginalized groups ​103–04, 110 – Piety of the Poor redaction ​112, 116–19 – Poetic oracles ​110 – Prophetic voice ​100–07

188

Index of Subjects

– Source Theory ​99–100 – Supplementary Theory ​99 – Temple references, Negative ​106–07, 112–13 – Temple references, Positive ​113–14, 115 – Theological structure ​118 Jeroboam I ​27, 28, 31, 35, 43, 44–45, 49, 59–60, 68–69, 92, 128, 129 – Death ​59 – Military achievements ​58 – Sanctuaries ​59 – Sins ​31, 35, 36, 44–45, 48, 50, 92 Jeroboam II ​20, 21, 26, 29, 38, 56–60, Jerusalem ​30, 45, 56, 61–62, 69–70, 74, 75, 124–25 – Demographics ​27 – Kings of ​28 Jerusalem, Fall ​12–13, 29–30, 53, 54–55, 56, 67, 81–97 – In Jeremiah ​95–96 – In Kings ​82–93 – In Lamentations ​95–96 – In Neo-Babylonian Chronicles ​82–83 Jerusalem, Temple of ​30, 33, 34, 59, 61, 99–119, 124 – Defilement ​114 – Destruction ​12–13, 89–90, 95, 115 – Jeremiah’s preaching ​99–119 – Salvific function ​115–16 – Scroll ​61–62 – Treasury ​12, 84, 85, 86, 89–90, 93 Jezebel ​43 Joash ​20, 57, 58, 127 Joram ​12, 38–44, 47, 50, 127 – Cult Reform ​35, 38, 44 Joseph ​65, 90 Joshua ​125–26 Joshua, Book of ​54 – Conquest Narrative ​5, 24 – Settlement Narrative ​5, 63 Josiah ​35, 46, 61, 62, 67–79, 127, 129 – Babylon, relations with ​69 – Death at Megiddo ​12, 50, 67–79 – Egypt, engagement with ​69 – Megiddo, battle strategy ​72 – Reforms ​34, 41, 44, 46, 61–63, 67, 75, 96 Jotham ​34–35, 127 Jubilee, Law of ​76 Judah, Kingdom of ​16, 53, 55–57, 61–62, 65, 67–68, 69, 70, 88, 90, 101, 103, 107, 114–15, 123–24, 125, 128–29, 137 – Demographics ​27

– Economy ​25–26, 28 – Fall of ​49, 76, 82, 90–92, 93 – International relations ​68–71 – Iron age population ​20 – Israel, Contrast with ​20–21 – Settlement patterns ​27 – Tribes ​129, 132 Judah, Kings of ​10, 31–51, 76, 92, 127 – Evaluations ​33–34, 51, 76, 96 Judges, Book of ​54, 105, 108 – Editorial layers ​23 – Heroic tales ​23 Karnaim ​58–59 Keying (interpretive process) ​117–19 Khirbet Qeiyafa Ostracon ​16 Kings, Books of ​10, 11–14, 26, 27, 28, 30, 31–51, 53–65, 67–68, 69, 70, 71–72, 73–75, 81–97, 115, 116, 118, 124, 126, 128, 129–30, 131, 133 – Authorship ​40–41 – Chronicles, Comparison with ​127–28 – Editorial history ​31–32 – Editors ​40–42, 46, 47, 48–49, 50, 56 – Historical accuracy ​97 – Historiography ​49–50 – Inconsistencies ​39 – Solomon Chapters ​25–26 – Succession History in Solomon Chapters ​ 25–26 – Theological interpretation in ​90–96 – Transmission ​96 Kings, Evaluations of ​31–51, 96 – Archival source ​51 Kuntillet Ajrud ​29 – Possible Exodus text ​21 Lamentations ​73 Lamentations of Individuals. See Psalms, Book of Lamentations, Targum ​73–74 – Aramaic translation ​73 – Josiah’s death ​73–74 – Josiah’s sin ​73 Levites in Chronicles ​131 Lifespan, Human ​138, 142–43 Longue durée ​18 Lunar worship. See Sin worship Lydia ​135 Makedah ​24 Manasseh ​26, 28, 44, 49, 56, 57, 68–69, 70, 91–92, 127–28, 129, 130, 131, 132

Index of Subjects Marduk Worship ​63 Mattaniah. See Zedekiah Maximalism ​1n, 4–7, 10 Megiddo ​12, 21, 25, 72–75 – Geopolitics ​68–71, 77 – Josiah’s objectives ​68–73 – Palaces ​19 Mesha inscription ​20, 23, 26 Micah ​96 Minimalism ​1n, 4–7, 10, 15–16, 78, 86 Moab ​23, 26, 88, 90–91 Monarchic division ​128–29 Monarchic Period ​32 Mordecai ​65 Muses. See Elegy to the Muses Mythical history ​54–55 Nathan ​126 Nebo ​26 Nebuchadnezzar ​12–13, 71, 83–84, 86, 88, 89, 91 Necho (Pharoah) ​44, 69, 71–74 Needy. See Marginalized groups Negev Highlands ​17, 19 Nehemiah, Book of ​28, 30 Neo-Assyrian empire ​60 Neo-Babylonian Conquest of Judah ​82 Neo-traditionalism ​16 Nineveh, Fall of ​71–72 Niphal form, Use of ​114, 115, 116 Northern Kingdom. See Israel Numbers, Moab narratives ​23 Omri ​43, 56, 57, 92 Omride Dynasty ​19, 20, 21, 23, 38, 42, 43, 44 Oral tradition in Bible ​22–25, 26–27 – Exodus Narrative ​26 – Jacob-Gilead Cycle ​26 Orphans, Treatment of ​103, 106, 109–10 Pan-Israelite ideology ​30 Participial form (Greek), Use of ​140 Passover celebration ​62, 126, 129 Patriarch stories ​17 Pentateuch ​53–54, 58, 122 – Early materials ​21 – Jacob Cycle ​23 – Mythical history ​54–55 – Northern traditions ​23 Penuel ​23, 26, 27 – Temple ​23, 26 Periodization in Deuteronomy ​68

Persian period ​30, 54, 117, 119, 135 – Deuteronomists ​55 – Wars ​55 Persian Period Judah. See Yehud Piety of the Poor ​13, 104, 112, 117–18, 119 Poetic Fragments. See Solon Polycrates, Murder of ​139–40 Positivism ​2–3 Priests in Chronicles ​130 Prophetic tradition ​96, 105 Prophets in Chronicles ​131–32 – Huldah ​131 – Jeremiah ​131 – Malachi ​132 – Moses ​131 Psalms, Book of ​105 Psammetich II, Campaign ​88 Psammetichus I, Asodus Expedition ​69 Pythian priestess. See Delphic Oracle Qarqar, Battle of ​20, 26 Qualifications of evaluations ​31–51 – Ahaziah ​42 – Amaziah ​34–35, 45–46 – Asa ​37–38, 42, 50 – David ​36–37 – Direct qualifications ​36–49 – Hezekiah ​35 – Hoshea ​46–49 – Indirect qualifications ​33–36 – Jehoahaz ​35–36 Jehoash ​34–35 – Jehoshaphet ​34–35 – Jehu ​44–45 – Jorah ​50 – Joram ​38–44, 50 – Josiah ​35 – Jotham ​34–35 – Solomon ​33–34, 36 – Textual comparisons ​39–40, 47–48 Rabshakeh, The ​115n Radiocarbon dating ​15, 18–20, 22 Rationalism ​2–3 Redactor​ – Deuteronomy ​31–32 – Jeremiah ​105–07 – Kings ​40–42, 46, 47–49, 50, 56 Regnal formulae ​31–51 Rehob ​26 Rehoboam ​37, 68, 127–28 Repentance in Chronicles ​128

189

190

Index of Subjects

Riblah ​84, 88, 90, 95 Rooftop worship ​63 Sadyattes ​135 Samaria ​21, 26, 35–36, 39, 47, 50, 56–57, 71, 125, 129 – Fall ​55, 60–61, 96 Samuel ​125–126 – In Chronicles genealogy ​125–26 – Priestly role ​126 – Temple cult ​126 Samuel, Books of ​21, 23–24, 36, 54, 125, 129, 130 – David narrative ​21, 25 – Pentateuchal materials ​21 – Pre-Deuteronomistic elements ​21, 23–24 – Southern traditions ​24 – Stratified traditions ​25 – Succession history ​21 Samuel-Kings ​121, 127, 130, 133 Sargon II ​24, 26, 60 – Great Summary Inscription ​24 Saul ​22, 23–24, 34, 125, 130 Schechem ​27, 129 Sennacherib ​63, 69–70, 115–16 Shalmaneser III ​20 Shamash, Cult of ​62 Shaphan ​61 Sheba, Queen of ​25–26 Shemaiah ​128 Shephelah ​16, 19, 24, 28, 56 Sheshonq I ​19 Shiloh ​29, 111 – Destruction ​22, 111 – Excavations ​22–23 – Sanctuary ​126 – Spelling ​102 Shishak ​37 Sidon ​88 Sin worship ​63 Solomon Chapters. See Kings, Books of Solomon, King ​16, 27, 33–34, 36, 57, 58, 68, 85, 93, 127, 128 Solon ​13–14, 135–50. See also Croesus and Herodotean Solon – Archonship ​136–37

– Croesus, Meeting with ​135–50 – Divine jealousy ​150 – Happiness ​137–39 – Poetic Fragments ​141–43 – Travels ​136–37 Southern Kingdom. See Judah Strangers, Treatment of ​103–04, 106, 109–10 Subat. See Zobah Syro-Ephraimite war ​69 Syro-Israeli pact ​69 Tel Dan inscription ​20 Tell Deir Alla – Balaam text ​21 – Early writing ​29 Tellus the Athenian ​137, 138, 142, 148 Temple in Jerusalem. See Jerusalem, Temple of Themistocles ​140 Tiglath-Pileser III ​26, 69 Tophet, Destruction ​62 Torah in Chronicles ​126 Tribes of Israel. See Israel, Tribes of Tyrus ​88 United Monarchy ​19, 27, 30, 58 Uriah the Hittite ​37 Uzziah ​124, 128 View from the Center ​16–18 Wellhausian Hypothesis ​2 Widows, Treatment of ​103–04, 106, 109–10 Writing, Early ​21, 28 Xerxes ​140–41 Yehud ​30, 104, 123–24, 125 Zedekiah ​12–13, 48–49, 64, 76, 83, 86, 95 – Blinding ​83, 88–89 – Deportation ​83, 88 – Jubilee Observance ​76 – Theological evaluation ​83 Zeus ​138–39, 143, 144, 147 Zobah (Aram) ​26