T&T Clark Encyclopedia of Second Temple Judaism [2] 9780567660947, 9780567660954, 9780567660930

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T&T Clark Encyclopedia of Second Temple Judaism



ii

T&T Clark Encyclopedia of Second Temple Judaism Volume 2

EDITED BY Daniel M. Gurtner and Loren T. Stuckenbruck

T&T CLARK Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the T&T Clark logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2020 Copyright © Daniel M. Gurtner, Loren T. Stuckenbruck and contributors 2020 Daniel M. Gurtner and Loren T. Stuckenbruck have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work. For legal purposes the Image Credits on p. 872 constitute an extension of this copyright page. Cover design: Terry Woodley All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-0-5676-6094-7 ePDF: 978-0-5676-6095-4 ePUB: 978-0-5676-6093-0 Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

Contents

VOLUME 1 Preface xxv Periodized Color Maps xxix Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region xxx Map 2: Alexander the Great (ca. 334–323 bce)xxxii Map 3: The Diadochi (ca. 323–301 bce)xxxiii Map 4: Seleucids and Ptolemies (301–200 bce)xxxiv Map 5: Seleucids and Ptolemies (200–167 bce)xxxv Map 6: Maccabean Revolt (167–160 bce)xxxvi Map 7: Hasmonean Rule (I) (160–103 bce)xxxvii Map 8: Hasmonean Rule (II) (103–63 bce)xxxviii Map 9: Decline of Hasmonean Rule and Roman Presence (63–43 bce)xxxix Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors (43 bce–6 ce)xl Map 11: Direct Roman Rule (6–66 ce)xli Map 12: First Jewish War (66–73 ce) Map 12a: First Jewish War: Initial Successes (66 ce)xlii Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns (67–69 ce)  xliii Map 12c: First Jewish War: Siege of Jerusalem (70 ce)  xliv Map 12d: First Jewish War: Siege of Masada (73/74 ce)  xlv Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War (73–136 ce)xlvi Abbreviations xlvii Contributors lxix

Part One  What Is Second Temple Judaism? (Loren T. Stuckenbruck) 1 Part Two  The Historical and Political Contexts of Second Temple Judaism (Daniel M. Gurtner) 21 Part Three Literature 91 Abraham, Apocalypse of

Alexander Kulik

93

Abraham, Testament of

Jared W. Ludlow

95

Adam and Eve, Greek Life of

John R. Levison

96

Ahiqar Proverbs

Seth A. Bledsoe

100

Amos, Book of

W. Edward Glenny

103

Contents

vi

Amram, Visions of

Robert R. Duke

104

Aramaic Levi Document

Henryk Drawnel

106

Aristeas, Letter of

Benjamin G. Wright III

109

Aristobulus

Robert Doran

111

Babatha Archive

Michael Owen Wise

112

Bar Kokhba Letters

Michael Owen Wise

116

Barki Nafshi (4Q434–438)

Eileen Schuller

119

Baruch, Book of

Sean A. Adams

120

Baruch, Second Book of

Liv Ingeborg Lied

121

Baruch, Third Book of

Alexander Kulik

125

Baruch, Fourth Book of

Robert A. Kraft

127

Beatitudes (4QBeatitudes)

Elisa Uusimäki 128

Ben Sira

Benjamin G. Wright III

130

Berakhot (4Q286–290)

Angela Kim Harkins

134

Catenae A–B (4Q177, 4Q182)

Lidija Novakovic

136

Chronicles, Books of

Isaac Kalimi

138

Copper Scroll (3Q15)

Al Wolters

140

Damascus Document (D)

Cecilia Wassén 143

Daniel, Additions to

Tim Meadowcroft

146

Daniel, Book of

Andrew B. Perrin

149

Daniel, Pseudo-Texts

Amanda M. Davis Bledsoe

153

David Apocryphon

Eva Mroczek

155

Demetrius the Chronographer

Shayna Sheinfeld

156

Deuteronomy, Book of

Laura Quick

157

Elect of God (4Q534–536)

Loren T. Stuckenbruck

160

Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch)

Miryam T. Brand

162

Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36)

Kelley Coblentz Bautch

165

Book of Parables (1 Enoch 37–71)

Grant Macaskill

170

Astronomical Book (1 Enoch 72–82)

Jonathan Ben-Dov

172

Dream Visions (1 Enoch 83–84)

Andrew B. Perrin

175

Animal Apocalypse (1 Enoch 85–90)

Daniel Olson

176

Apocalypse of Weeks (1 Enoch 93:1–10; 91:11–17)

Ronald Herms

178

Epistle of Enoch (1 Enoch 92:1–5; 93:11–105:2)

Mark D. Mathews

181

Birth of Noah (1 Enoch 106–107)

Daniel A. Machiela

183

Eschatological Exhortation (1 Enoch 108)

Mark D. Mathews

184

Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch)

Christfried Böttrich 185

Contents

Esdras, First Book of

Juha Pakkala

189

Esdras, Second Book of

(see—Ezra, Fourth Book of [pt 3])

Esther, Book of

Isaac Kalimi

190

Esther, Greek Versions of

Kristin De Troyer

192

Eupolemus

G. Anthony Keddie

194

Eupolemus, Pseudo-

Philip Michael Sherman

195

Exodus, Book of

Drew Longacre

197

Ezekiel, Book of

Andrew Mein

201

Ezekiel the Tragedian

Pierluigi Lanfranchi

204

Ezra, Book of

Csilla Saysell

205

Ezra, Fourth Book of

Hindy Najman

207

Florilegium (4Q174)

Shani Tzoref

212

Gabriel, Vision of

Amanda M. Davis Bledsoe

213

Genesis, Book of

Benjamin Wold

214

Genesis and Exodus, Commentary on (4Q422)

Benjamin Wold

217

Genesis Apocryphon

Michael Becker

218

Genesis Commentaries (4Q252–254, 254a)

Shani Tzoref

220

Giants, Book of

Joseph L. Angel

222

Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings

James K. Aitken

225

Habakkuk, Book of

Alex P. Jassen

230

Habakkuk, Pesher of

Alex P. Jassen

231

Haggai, Book of

John Kessler

234

Hebrews, Epistle to the

Eric F. Mason

236

Hekhalot Texts (see—Merkabah Mysticism and Hekhalot Texts [pt 4]) Herakleopolis Papyri

Annette Weissenrieder

239

Hodayot (1QH +4QH manuscripts)

Angela Kim Harkins

240

Hosea, Book of

Russell Fuller

243

Hosea, Pesher of

Maurya P. Horgan

246

Instruction (4QInstruction)

Elisa Uusimäki 247

Isaiah, Ascension of

Jonathan M. Knight

250

Isaiah, Book of

Konrad Schmid

252

Marilyn J. Lundberg

256

Isaiah Scroll (1QIsa )

Eugene Ulrich

258

Jacob, Ladder of

Alexander Kulik

261

James, Epistle of

Dale C. Allison, Jr.

262

a

Isaiah, Pesher of a

vii

Contents

viii

Jannes and Jambres

Ted M. Erho

264

Jeremiah and Lamentations

Thomas Römer 267

Jeremiah, Apocryphon of

Kipp Davis

271

Jeremiah, Epistle of

Sean A. Adams

273

Jews in the Persian Court (4Q550)

Philip Esler

274

Job, Book of

Elaine T. James

275

Job, Qumran Aramaic Version of

David J. Shepherd

278

Job, Testament of

Maria Cioată 281

Joel, Book of

Elie Assis

283

John, Gospel of

John Ashton

285

John, Letters of

George L. Parsenios

289

Jonah, Book of

Carla Sulzbach

290

Jonathan the King Text (4Q448)

Henry W. Morisada Rietz

293

Joseph and Aseneth

Jill Hicks-Keeton

294

Joseph, Apocryphon of (4Q371–373)

Matthew Thiessen

297

Joseph, Prayer of

Simon J. Joseph

297

Josephus, Writings of

Michael Tuval

299

Joshua, Apocryphon of

Devorah Dimant

303

Joshua, Book of

Ed Noort

305

Jubilees, Book of

Jacques T. A. G. M. van Ruiten

307

Jude, Epistle of

Duane F. Watson

312

Judges, Book of

Ariel Feldman

314

Judith, Book of

Deborah Levine Gera

316

Justus of Tiberias

James E. Bowley

318

Kings, Books of

Ariel Feldman

319

Latin Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings

Annette Weissenrieder

323

Leviticus, Book of

Robert Kugler

326

Leviticus, Qumran Aramaic Version of

David J. Shepherd

330

Luke-Acts

Kindalee Pfremmer De Long

332

Maccabees, First Book of

Michael Tuval

336

Maccabees, Second Book of

Daniel R. Schwartz

340

Maccabees, Third Book of

Noah Hacham

344

Maccabees, Fourth Book of

Tessa Rajak

347

Malachi, Book of

Russell Fuller

350

Manasseh, Prayer of

Archie T. Wright

352

Contents

Manetho

Erich S. Gruen

353

Mark, Gospel of

Suzanne Watts Henderson

354

Matthew, Gospel of

Anders Runesson

358

Megillat Taʿanit (The Scroll of Fasting)

Vered Noam

362

Melchizedek Scroll (11Q13)

Eric F. Mason

365

Menander, Sentences of the Syriac

Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr

367

Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521)

Michael Becker

368

Micah, Book of

Watson E. Mills and Daniel M. Gurtner

370

Micah, Pesher of

Matthew A. Collins

374

Midrashim (see—Midrash [pt 4]) Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT)

Mika S. Pajunen

375

Minor Prophets

Russell Fuller

378

Mishnah

Tal Ilan

382

Moses, Assumption of

Kenneth Atkinson

385

Moses, Testament of

(see—Moses, Assumption of [pt 3])

Nabonidus, Prayer of (4Q242/4QPrNab)

Årstein Justnes

388

Nahum, Book of

Russell Fuller

389

Nahum, Pesher of

Shani Tzoref

391

Naphtali, Testament of (4Q215)

Michael E. Stone

393

Nehemiah, Book of

Jacob L. Wright

395

New Jerusalem Text

Hugo Antonissen

397

Numbers, Book of

Thomas Römer 398

Obadiah, Book of

Anselm C. Hagedorn

402

Ordinances (4QOrdinances)

Hannah K. Harrington

403

Orpheus, Pseudo-

Samantha Newington

405

Otot

Jonathan Ben-Dov

406

Papyri from Qumran Cave 7

Michael Owen Wise

408

Paraleipomena Ieremiae

(see—Baruch, Fourth Book of [pt 3])

Patriarchs, Testaments of the Twelve

Vered Hillel

411

Pauline Letters

Bruce W. Longenecker

415

Pentateuch

Molly Zahn

419

Pesher of the Periods (4Q180–181)

Devorah Dimant

422

Peshitta

Jan Joosten

424

Peter, Letters of

Chad Pierce

427

Philo of Alexandria

Ronald R. Cox

431

Philo, Pseudo- (LAB)

Robert Hayward

435 ix

Contents

Philo the Epic Poet

Sean A. Adams

440

Phocylides, Pseudo-

Sean A. Adams

441

Pirqe Aboth

Luke Neubert

442

Prophets, Lives of the

Anna Maria Schwemer

444

Proverbs, Book of

Bernd U. Schipper

447

Psalms 151–155

Daniel M. Gurtner

450

Psalms, Book of

Judith Gӓrtner 453

Psalms, Pesher of

Jutta Jokiranta

457

Psalms Scrolls

Eva Mroczek

459

Qahat, Testament of

Ken M. Penner

462

Qoheleth

Douglas B. Miller

463

Revelation, Book of

Christopher Rowland

466

Reworked Pentateuch (4QRP)

Molly Zahn

470

Rule of Blessings (1QSb)

Joseph L. Angel

473

Rule of the Community

Arjen Bakker

475

Rule of the Congregation (1QSa)

Cecilia Wassén 478

Ruth, Book of

Max Rogland

481

Samaritan Pentateuch

Robert T. Anderson

483

Samuel, Books of

Ariel Feldman

487

Self-Glorification Hymn

Angela Kim Harkins

491

Septuagint (see—Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings [pt 4])

x

Shem, Treatise of

Kenneth Atkinson

492

Sibylline Oracles 1–2

Olaf Wassmuth

493

Sibylline Oracles 3

Rieuwerd Buitenwerf

495

Sibylline Oracles 4–5

Olivia Stewart Lester

496

Solomon, Odes of

Majella Franzmann

499

Solomon, Psalms of

Joseph L. Trafton

501

Solomon, Testament of

Todd Klutz

504

Solomon, Wisdom of

Randall D. Chesnutt

507

Song of Songs

Anselm C. Hagedorn

510

Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice

Noam Mizrahi

512

Talmud, Babylonian

Jeffrey L. Rubenstein

516

Talmud, Jerusalem

Günter Stemberger

519

Tanḥumim (4Q176)

Jesper Høgenhaven 521

Targumim

David Shepherd

523

Contents

Temple Scroll

Dwight D. Swanson

527

Testimonia (4Q175)

Henry W. Morisada Rietz

530

Tobit, Book of

Andrew B. Perrin

533

Ṭohorot (4Q274, 276–277, 278)

Aryeh Amihay

536

Torah (see—Pentateuch [pt 3]) Tosefta

Michael Tilly

538

War, Book of (4Q285, 11Q14)

Martin G. Abegg, Jr.

540

War Scroll

Brian Schultz

541

Words of Michael

Loren T. Stuckenbruck

545

Words of the Luminaries

Daniel K. Falk

547

Zechariah, Book of

Antonios Finitsis

549

Zephaniah, Apocalypse of

Michael Sommer

551

Zephaniah, Book of

Christof Hardmeier

555

VOLUME 2 Part Four Topics 1 Aaron

Robert Duke

3

Abraham

Jacques van Ruiten

4

Adam and Eve

Cynthia R. Chapman

6

Adiabene Michał Marciak

9

Agatharchides

Erich S. Gruen

10

Agriculture

Oded Borowski

11

Akiba (Akiva), Rabbi

Meir Ben-Shahar

12

Alexander Jannaeus

Kenneth Atkinson

14

Alexander Polyhistor

Anthony Keddie

16

Alexander the Great

Sabine Müller 17

Alexandria

Gregory E. Sterling

19

Allegory

Stefan N. Svendsen

22

Alms and Almsgiving

Gary A. Anderson

24

Amulets

Clinton E. Arnold

25

Angels

Kevin P. Sullivan

26

Animal Worship

Jed Wyrick

29

Antichrist

Bert Jan Lietaert Peerbolte

30

Antioch (Pisidian)

Rainer Riesner

31 xi

Contents

xii

Antioch (Syrian)

Markus Öhler

32

Antiochus IV Epiphanes

Peter Franz Mittag

35

Apion

Michael Tuval

36

Apocalypse

Lorenzo DiTommaso

38

Apocalypticism

Loren L. Johns

40

Apocrypha, “Old Testament”

David A. deSilva

43

Apollonius Molon

Sean A. Adams

45

Apologetic Literature

John M. G. Barclay

46

Apostasy

B. J. Oropeza

47

Apuleius of Madauros

Gerald Sandy

49

Aqedah

Leroy A. Huizenga

50

Aqueducts

Marc Turnage

52

Arabian Peninsula

Gordon D. Newby

54

Arabic

Martin Heide

56

Aramaic

Steven E. Fassberg

58

Ararat, Mount

Andrew Geist

60

ʿAraq el-Amir

Gerald L. Mattingly

61

Arch of Titus

Steven Fine

62

Archaeology (Recent Trends)

Benjamin D. Gordon

64

Architecture

Eyal Baruch

66

Archives and Libraries

Mladen Popović 71

Aristobulus I

Kenneth Atkinson

73

Aristobulus II

Kenneth Atkinson

74

Aristotle

Ronald R. Cox

76

Armenian

Valentina Calzolari

77

Artapanus

Robert Doran

79

Ascent into Heaven

Paula Gooder

80

Asceticism

Joan E. Taylor

81

Asia Minor

Clinton E. Arnold

83

Acculturation and Assimilation

Richard J. Bautch

84

Associations

Yonder Moynihan Gillihan

86

Astronomy and Astrology

Henryk Drawnel

88

Athletics

Zeev Weiss

90

Atonement

Christian A. Eberhart

91

Babel, Tower of

Philip Michael Sherman

93

Babylonian Culture

Ida Fröhlich 94

Contents

Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians

Oded Lipschits

95

Bar Kokhba Revolt

(see—Revolt, Second Jewish [pt 4])

Bar Kokhba Caves (see—Naḥal Ḥever [Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters; pt 4]) Baruch

Mark F. Whitters

98

Baths

Robert Darby

99

Behemoth

Brian R. Doak

101

Belial

Jutta Leonhardt-Balzer

101

Berossus

Philip Michael Sherman

102

Bethsaida

Richard A. Freund

103

Bethshean (Scythopolis)

Robert A. Mullins

107

Birth, Miraculous

Anders Klostergaard Petersen

109

Blasphemy

Jerry D. Truex

110

Boethusians

Adiel Schremer

112

Burial Practices

Marc Turnage

113

Caesarea Maritima

Joseph Patrich

116

Caesarea Philippi (Paneas)

John F. Wilson

119

Cain and Abel

Johanna Erzberger

120

Caiaphas

Helen K. Bond

122

Cairo Genizah

Stefan C. Reif

123

Calendars

Matthias Henze

126

Canon and the Canonical Process

Eugene Ulrich

128

Capernaum

Sharon Lea Mattila

130

Catacombs (Rome)

Leonard V. Rutgers

132

Celibacy

Joan E. Taylor

135

Celsus the Physician

Bernd Kollmann

136

Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim)

Yonatan Adler

138

Cemeteries (Bethshean)

Robert A. Mullins

140

Cemeteries (Qumran)

Joan E. Taylor

141

Chaeremon of Alexandria

Jenny Bryan

144

Chronography

William Adler

144

Cicero

Paul Robertson

145

Circumcision

Matthew Thiessen

146

Cisterns and Reservoirs

David Gurevich

148

Clearchus of Soli

Andrea Falcon

151

Cleodemus Malchus

Robert Doran

151

xiii

Contents

xiv

Clothing and Dress

Cynthia M. Baker

152

Coele-Syria

Dominick S. Hernández 154

Coins

David Hendin

156

Columbaria

Amos Kloner

158

Columella

Christopher J. Fuhrmann

160

Contracts from the Judean Desert

John F. Healey

160

Conversion and Proselytism

Matthew Thiessen

163

Coptic

Alin Suciu

164

Cosmology

Eshbal Ratzon

167

Court Tales

Philip Esler

170

Covenant

Richard J. Bautch

171

Covenantal Nomism

Bruce W. Longenecker

174

Creation

Karina Martin Hogan

176

Crucifixion

David W. Chapman

177

Cyprus

Pieter W. van der Horst

180

Cyrenaica

Jason von Ehrenkrook

181

Cyrus the Great

Oded Lipschits

182

Daliyeh, Wadi ed-

Jan Dušek 184

Damascus

Anna Maria Schwemer

186

Daniel

Tim Meadowcroft

187

David

Eva Mroczek

189

Dead Sea Scrolls

Casey D. Elledge

190

Death and Afterlife

Casey D. Elledge

194

Decalogue

Richard A. Freund

196

Decapolis

Gerald L. Mattingly

198

Demons and Exorcism

Archie T. Wright

199

Determinism

Gabriele Boccaccini

201

Deuteronomistic History

Thomas Römer 202

Deuteronomistic Theology

Samantha Joo

205

Diadochi

Alexander Meeus

207

Diaspora

Claudia Setzer

208

Diet in Palestine

Naomi S. S. Jacobs

211

Dio Chrysostom

Christopher J. Fuhrmann

212

Diodorus Siculus

David P. Moessner

214

Disability

Naomi S. S. Jacobs

215

Dream and Vision Reports

Andrew B. Perrin

216

Contents

Dualism

Devorah Dimant

218

Economics in Palestine

David A. Fiensy

220

Education

Luke Neubert

222

Egypt

Nathalie LaCoste

224

ʿEin Feshkha

Baruch Yuzefovsky

226

ʿEin-Gedi

Marc Turnage

228

Elders

Benjamin L. Merkle

230

Election

Tommy Givens

231

Elephantine and Elephantine Papyri

Andrew D. Gross

233

Elijah Géza G. Xeravits

235

Elisha Géza G. Xeravits

236

Emperor Cult

Larry Kreitzer

237

Enoch

Ryan E. Stokes

239

Enochic Circles

Gabriele Boccaccini

242

Enosh

Crispin H. T. Fletcher-Louis

244

Entertainment Structures

Joseph Patrich

244

Epictetus

Niko Huttunen

246

Eschatology

Grant Macaskill

248

Essenes Jörg Frey

250

Ethics

Volker Rabens

252

Ethiopic (Geʿez)

Ted M. Erho

255

Evil

Miryam T. Brand

256

Exile

Michael E. Fuller

259

Exodus, The

John Byron

261

Ezra

Pierluigi Lanfranchi

263

Faith and Faithfulness

Dennis R. Lindsay

264

Fallen Angels

Henryk Drawnel

265

Family

Cecilia Wassén 267

Fasting

Noah Hacham

268

Festivals and Holy Days

M. A. Daise

270

Flood

Ryan E. Stokes

272

Food and Eating

(see—Diet in Palestine [pt 4])

Fortresses and Palaces

Casey D. Elledge

274

Frontinus

Michael Tuval

277

Gabriel

Kevin P. Sullivan

277

Galilee

Mark A. Chancey

278 xv

Contents

xvi

Gamla

Danny Syon

280

Garden of Eden—Paradise

Eshbal Ratzon

282

Gematria

Larry R. Helyer

284

Genealogies

Jason B. Hood

285

Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism

Michael Tuval

286

Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward

Christine E. Hayes

288

Geography, Otherworldly

Kelley Coblentz Bautch

291

Geography, Mythic

(see—Geography, Otherwordly [pt 4])

Georgian

Jan Dochhorn

293

Gerizim, Mount

Richard J. Bautch

294

Giants

Matthew Goff

296

Gnosticism

Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta

297

God-Fearers

S. Scott Bartchy

300

Grace (Ḥesed)

Kyle B. Wells

302

Greece and the Aegean

Paul Trebilco

303

Greek

Michael Owen Wise

305

Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism

Dov Gera

308

Greek Philosophy

Thomas H. Tobin

310

Greek Religions

Frederick Naerebout

312

Gymnasium

Livia Capponi

314

Hasidim

John I. Kampen

315

Hasmonean Dynasty

Kenneth Atkinson

316

Healing

Eric Eve

318

Heaven

Beate Ego

319

Heavenly Beings

(see—Angels [pt 4])

Hebrew

Randall Buth

321

Hecataeus of Abdera

Philip Michael Sherman

324

Hecataeus, Pseudo-

Philip Michael Sherman

325

Heliopolis

Robert Hayward

326

Hellenism and Hellenization

Tessa Rajak

328

Hermippus of Smyrna

Erich S. Gruen

330

Hermon, Mount

Shimon Dar and Daniel M. Gurtner

331

Herod the Great

Adam Marshak

333

Herodians

Benedikt Eckhardt

335

Herodion (Herodium)

Casey D. Elledge

337

Contents

High Priests

Isaac Kalimi

338

Hillel Günter Stemberger

340

Historiography

Russell E. Gmirkin

342

Holiness

Naomi Koltun-Fromm

343

Horoscopes

Helen R. Jacobus

345

Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms

Daniel K. Falk

347

Hyrcanus I, John

Kenneth Atkinson

352

Hyrcanus II, John

Kenneth Atkinson

353

Idols and Images

Crispin H. T. Fletcher-Louis

355

Idumea

Alan Appelbaum

356

Imperial Cult, Jews and the

Monika Bernett

357

Inscriptions

Martin Heide

359

Intermarriage

Hannah K. Harrington

362

Ioudaios

Daniel R. Schwartz

363

Isaac

Ruth A. Clements

364

Isaiah

Jonathan M. Knight

366

Ishmael

Michael Francis

368

Itureans

Andreas J. M. Kropp

369

Jacob

Atar Livneh

370

James

John Painter

372

Jannes and Jambres

(see—Jannes and Jambres [pt 3])

Jericho

Anne Lykke

373

Jerusalem, Archaeology of

Joseph Patrich

377

Jerusalem in Second Temple Literature

Kenneth Atkinson

380

Jerusalem, The New

Hugo Antonissen

382

Jesus Movement

Anthony Le Donne and Joshua D. Garroway 384

Jesus of Nazareth

Chris Keith

386

Jewelry

Tziona Grossmark

389

Jewish-Christianity

Joan E. Taylor

391

John the Baptist

Stanley E. Porter

393

Jonathan

Kenneth Atkinson

395

Joseph

Harm W. Hollander

397

Josephus

Steve Mason

398

Joshua (Jeshua) the High Priest

Carol L. Meyers

400

Jotapata (Yodefat)

Mordechai Aviam

401

Judah

William Loader

403 xvii

Contents

Judaizing

Steve Mason

404

Judas Maccabeus

Arie van der Kooij

405

Judea

Eitan Klein

407

Judgment

Kim Papaioannou

408

Julius Caesar, Caius

Richard A. Billows

410

Justin Martyr

Oskar Skarsaune

412

Juvenal

D. S. Levene

413

Kingdom of God

Craig A. Evans

414

Kingship in Ancient Israel

Anne Moore

417

Kingship in Second Temple Judaism

Beth M. Stovell

419

Lamprias

Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

422

Land, Concept of

Michael Avioz

422

Latin

Kenneth R. Jones

425

Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism

Benjamin Isaac

426

Legal Texts (Qumran)

Charlotte Hempel

428

Letter Writing

Lutz Doering

430

Levi

Christoph Berner

432

Leviathan

Aleksander R. Michalak

434

Levites

Harald Samuel

435

Literacy and Reading

Catherine Hezser

438

Liturgical Works

(see—Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms [pt 4])

Logos

Matthew V. Novenson

440

Longinus (On the Sublime)

James E. Bowley

441

Lubar, Mount

Andrew Geist

442

Lysimachus of Alexandria

Miriam Ben Zeev

443

Magdala (Taricheae)

Jordan J. Ryan

443

Magic and Divination

Matthias Reinhard Hoffmann

446

Magic Incantations and Bowls

Siam Bhayro

448

Magical Papyri, Jewish

Matthias Reinhard Hoffmann

451

Mara bar Serapion

Ilaria Ramelli

455

Maresha (Marisê)

Dov Gera

455

Marriage and Divorce

Hannah K. Harrington

459

Martial

Kathleen M. Coleman

460

Martyrdom

Shmuel Shepkaru

461

Masada, Archaeology of

Jürgen K. Zangenberg

463

Masada, History of

Kenneth Atkinson

467

xviii

Contents

Masada, Texts from

Hector M. Patmore

469

Meals

Yonder Moynihan Gillihan

472

Mediator Figures

Kevin P. Sullivan

476

Medicine and Hygiene

Joan E. Taylor

478

Megasthenes

Pat Wheatley

480

Megiddo

Matthew J. Adams

480

Melchizedek

Kasper Dalgaard

482

Meleager of Gadara

Menahem Luz

484

Menorah

Richard A. Freund

484

Merkabah Mysticism and Hekhalot Texts

Rachel Elior

486

Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia

Jon L. Berquist

490

Messiah

Matthew V. Novenson

492

Messianism

David Hamidović 494

Metatron

Felicia Waldman

495

Michael, the Archangel

Darrell D. Hannah

497

Midrash

Joshua Ezra Burns

499

Military, Jews in the

Dov Gera

500

Miqvaʾot (Ritual Baths)

Stuart S. Miller

502

Miracles and Miracle Workers

Erkki Koskenniemi

507

Mishmarot

Helen R. Jacobus

510

Mnaseas of Patara

Russell E. Gmirkin

511

Moiragenes of Athens

Robert M. Berchman

512

Monotheism

Kevin P. Sullivan

513

Moriah, Mount

Isaac Kalimi

515

Mosaics

Mark A. Chancey

515

Moses

Michael Tuval

517

Moses Texts from Qumran

Liora Goldman

520

Multilingualism

Michael Owen Wise

521

Murabbaʿat, Wadi

Michael Tuval

524

Music

John Arthur Smith

526

Mystery Jean-Sébastien Rey

527

Mystery Religion, Judaism as

529

Peter J. Haas

Mysticism (see—Merkabah Mysticism & Hekhalot Texts [pt 4]) Nabatea

John F. Healey

531

Nag Hammadi Codices

Antti Marjanen

533

xix

Contents

xx

Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters)

Richard A. Freund

534

Names and Naming

Tal Ilan

537

Nazareth Richard A. Freund and Daniel M. Gurtner

538

Nebuchadnezzar

Reinhard G. Kratz

540

Nehemiah

Aaron Demsky

542

Nicolaus of Damascus

Joseph Sievers

543

Noah

Dorothy M. Peters

544

Novels

Lawrence M. Wills

547

Oaths and Vows

Yonder Moynihan Gillihan

549

Oenomaus of Gadara

Menahem Luz

551

Oniads

Dov Gera

551

Oral Performance and Text

Rodney A. Werline

556

Ossuaries

Martin Heide

558

Ostia

Donald D. Binder

562

Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls

André Lemaire

564

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic

André Lemaire

567

Paleography, Greek

Don Barker

572

Palestine

Clayton Miles Lehmann

579

Palmyra

John F. Healey

580

Papyri

Peter Arzt-Grabner

582

Parthians

Geoffrey Herman

586

Paul

Albert L. A. Hogeterp

587

Penitential Prayer

Rodney A. Werline

589

People of the Land (ʿAm ha-ʾAreṣ)

Yair Furstenberg

590

Persecution, Religious

Sara Raup Johnson

591

Persian Period

Jason M. Silverman

594

Persian Religion

Prods Oktor Skjaervo

596

Persius

Ilaria Ramelli

600

Pesharim

Liora Goldman

600

Pharisees

Roland Deines

602

Phinehas

Don (Dongshin) Chang

606

Phoenicia

Chris Seeman

607

Phoenix

Kai Akagi

609

Phylacteries and Mezuzot

Stephen Alan Reed

610

Contents

Pilgrimage

Wolfgang Zwickel

612

Pliny the Elder

Robert Kraft

613

Plutarch

Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

614

Polybius

David P. Moessner

616

Pompeius Trogus

Katell Berthelot

617

Posidonius of Apamea

David L. Balch

618

Pottery

Daniel Schindler and Jennifer Gates-Foster

619

Priesthood

Joachim Schaper

622

Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine

Eyal Baruch

624

Procurators

Luke Neubert

627

Prophecy

Alex P. Jassen

630

Prophets, Texts Associated with

Todd R. Hanneken

632

Proselytism (see—Conversion and Proselytism [pt 4]) Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament”

Annette Yoshiko Reed

634

Pseudepigraphy

Eva Mroczek

637

Ptolemies

Johann Cook

639

Purification and Purity

Christine E. Hayes

641

Quintilian

Duane F. Watson

645

Qumran, Khirbet

Jürgen K. Zangenberg

645

Rabbis (see—Sages [pt 4]) Raphael

Geoffrey David Miller

649

Repentance

Michael D. Matlock

650

Resistance Movements

Loren L. Johns

652

Restoration

Michael E. Fuller

654

Resurrection

Casey D. Elledge

656

Revolt, Maccabean (167–140 bce)

Nadav Sharon

658

Revolt, First Jewish (66–73/74 ce)

Mladen Popović 662

Revolt, Second Jewish (Bar Kokhba Revolt; 132–136 ce)

Menahem Mor

665

Rhodes

Richard A. Freund

669

Righteousness and Justice

Mark D. Mathews

671

Rights of Jews in the Roman World

Miriam Ben Zeev

673

Roman Emperors

David Potter

675

Roman Generals

Brian Campbell

677

Roman Governors

Christopher J. Fuhrmann

679

Roman Religion

James B. Rives

681

xxi

Contents

Romanization

Andrew B. Gallia

683

Rome

Mark A. Chancey

685

Sabbath

Ryan C. Stoner

688

Sacrifices and Offerings

Robert Kugler

689

Sadducees

Eyal Regev

691

Sages

Meir Ben-Shahar

693

Salome Alexandra

Kenneth Atkinson

695

Samaria

Ingrid Hjelm

697

Samaria-Sebaste

Eitan Klein

700

Samaritans

Magnar Kartveit

702

Samaritanism

Reinhard Pummer

703

Sanballat

Jan Dušek 705

Sanhedrin

Kenneth D. Litwak

706

Sardis

Margaret Williams

708

Satan and Related Figures

Stefan Schreiber

710

Scribes and Scribalism

Chris Keith

712

Scripts and Scribal Practices

Mladen Popović 713

Seals and Seal Impressions

Oded Lipschits

716

Sectarianism

Yonder Moynihan Gillihan

718

Seleucids

Uriel Rappaport

722

Seneca

Ilaria Ramelli

723

Sepphoris

Zeev Weiss

724

Serpent

James H. Charlesworth

726

Seth

Alexander Toepel

728

Shechem (see—Gerizim, Mount [pt 4]) Sexuality

Maxine Grossman

729

Shammai

Paul Mandel

732

Sheshbazzar

H. G. M. Williamson

734

Sicarii

Mark Brighton

735

Sickness and Disease

Bernd Kollmann

736

Simon

Kenneth Atkinson

738

Sin

Gary A. Anderson

739

Sinai, Mount

Christoph Berner

741

Slavery

John Byron

743

Slavonic

Grant Macaskill

744

Solomon

Albert L. A. Hogeterp

746

xxii

Contents

Son of God

Craig A. Evans

748

Son of Man

Benjamin E. Reynolds

749

Sons of God

Christopher A. Rollston

751

Spirit, Holy

John R. Levison

754

Stars

Daniel Olson

756

Stone Vessels

Roland Deines

757

Strabo

Alessandro Galimberti

760

Suetonius

Christopher J. Fuhrmann

761

Suffering Servant

Leroy A. Huizenga

762

Sun and Moon

Jason M. Silverman

764

Synagogues

Anders Runesson

766

Syria

G. Anthony Keddie

772

Syriac

Naomi Koltun-Fromm

774

Tacitus

Casey D. Elledge

776

Temple, Jerusalem

Joseph Patrich

777

Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology)

Meron M. Piotrkowski

781

Temple, Leontopolis (Literature)

Livia Capponi

783

Temple Tax

Marius Heemstra

785

Tertullian

Jeff W. Childers

786

Testaments

Vered Hillel

787

Teucer of Cyzicus

John Granger Cook

789

Text Types, Hebrew

Ronald Hendel

789

Theaters

Jeff Jay

791

Theodicy

Miryam T. Brand

793

Theodotus

Robert Doran

795

Theophrastus

Jed Wyrick

796

Therapeutae

Robert Hayward

797

Tiberias

Oren Gutfeld

798

Tiberius Julius Alexander

Ronald R. Cox

800

Timagenes

Duane W. Roller

801

Tithing

Naomi S. S. Jacobs

801

Tobiads

Adam L. Porter

802

Tobiah

Naomi S. S. Jacobs

804

Torah, Traditioning of

Molly M. Zahn

804

Transjordan

Gerald L. Mattingly

806

Tribute and Taxes

Marius Heemstra

808 xxiii

Contents

Universalism

Gudrun Holtz

809

Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 ce; Kitos War)

Miriam Ben Zeev

812

Uriel

Amsalu Tefera

813

Valerius Maximus

Hans-Friedrich Mueller

815

Varro, Marcus Terentius

Luke Neubert

815

Violence

Alex P. Jassen

816

Virgil

Katell Berthelot

818

Washing, Ritual

(see—Purification and Purity [pt 4])

Wealth and Poverty

Mark D. Mathews

819

Wilderness

Matthew Thiessen

821

Wisdom Literature

John I. Kampen

822

Wisdom (Personified)

Knut M. Heim

824

Women

Cecilia Wassén 825

Worship

Daniel K. Falk

828

Writing

Chris Keith

831

Yavneh

Richard A. Freund

833

Yohanan Ben Zakkai

Meir Ben-Shahar

835

Zadokites

Robert Kugler

836

Zealots

Lincoln H. Blumell and Haley Wilson-Lemmon 838

Zerubbabel

Jason M. Silverman

General Bibliography Image Credits

xxiv

840 843 872

Part Four

Topics



2

Aaron Aaron, Moses’ brother and first priest for ancient Israel, is presented in the biblical text in an ambivalent way. As an assistant to Moses, his role is positive (Exod 4:30; 17:11–12). When working independently of Moses, however, his role is negative: Aaron is complicit in the worship of the golden calf at Sinai (Exod 32:1–6; cf. Watts 2011), and he even challenges Moses’ leadership due to his marriage with a Cushite woman (Num 12:1–9). Both of these events are judged harshly by the biblical narrator. Outside the Torah, Aaron plays a very minor role in the Hebrew Bible. One exception occurs among the later writings of the Hebrew Bible composed during the early Second Temple period: the phrase “descendants (literally sons) of Aaron” becomes a common way to refer to priests (e.g. 1 Chr 15:4; 24:1, 31; 2 Chr 13:9–10; cf. further Neh 10:38; 12:47; Tob 1:7; Sir 45:25; Luke 1:5; 4 Macc 7:12). The elevation of Aaron’s descendants and their central role in the Temple become major foci for the author of 1 and 2 Chronicles, where their service at the Temple was founded on ancestral traditions pertaining to Aaron (1 Chr 24:19; Watts 2014). In the Book of Nehemiah a division is drawn among the Levites, between a general group which received a certain portion of the tithe and the “descendants of Aaron” who were subsequently given a tithe of the tithe. According to Nehemiah 12:47, during the time of Zerubbabel and Nehemiah, “all Israel” would “set apart that which was for the Levites; and the Levites set apart that which was for the descendants of Aaron.” There is also relatively little focus on Aaron in Second Temple literature from the 3rd century bce and later, with many passages merely rehearsing the Torah narratives involving him (1 Esd 1:13–14; 4 Macc 7:10–11; see Kugler 1996; Bamberger 1993). Sirach 45, however, describes Aaron in an especially exalted way within its list of celebrated figures in ancient Israel (Sir 44–50). The Greek and Genizah materials differ slightly regarding the extent of his status. According to the Greek tradition of Sirach 45:6, Aaron, like his brother Moses, is “exalted” (ὕψωσεν, hypsōsen) and a “holy (man)” (ἅγιον, hagion). In the B manuscript from the Cairo Genizah, Aaron is similarly “exalted … as holy” (‫וירם קדוש‬, wyrm qdwš), though perhaps not to the status of Moses. Aaron’s high status here fits well with the writer’s emphasis near the end of the work on the strong mediatorial (if not exalted) role lavished on the high priest, Simon of Onias (Sir 50:1–21). References to Aaron among the Dead Sea Scrolls are far more numerous (at least 86 times among the non-biblical texts). In several cases, Aaron is mentioned in elevated ways. For example, Moses and Aaron are said to have stood with the power of the “Prince of Lights” (CD A v 18 par. 4Q266 3 ii 5) as they opposed “Yannes and his brother” who were acting under Belial’s influence. In addition, the concept of dual messiahs, both royal and priestly, reflects a positive presentation of Aaron, as the latter is explicitly designated “the Messiah of Aaron” (CD A xii 23, xiv 19, and CD B xix 10–11, xx 1; cf. 1QS ix 9–11; see Collins 2010: 79–109). The descendants of Aaron

Abraham

were also considered the ultimate authority for the Qumran community, as they “alone shall have authority over judicial and financial matters. They shall decide on governing precepts for the men of the Yaḥad” (1QS ix 7, trans. ANT). Additionally, among the Aramaic materials from Qumran, several documents focus on the descendants of Levi. Visions of Amram (4Q543–547) presents Aaron in a minor role as retrieving Moses from Pharaoh’s palace at the conclusion of Miriam’s wedding feast (4Q545 1a i 9 and Reworked Pentateuch in 4Q365 35 ii 6). The document also refers to the staff associated with Aaron (4Q546 1 i 3) which, according to Numbers 17:1–12, miraculously sprouted to confirm his and his descendants as priests (cf. Heb 9:4). There are only five references to Aaron in the New Testament (Luke 1:5; Acts 7:40; Heb 5:4; 7:11; 9:4; Horbury 1983). Whereas the reference in Luke establishes the lineage of Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, the text in Acts recalls the golden calf incident in Exodus 32 (see above). The three passages in the Epistle to the Hebrews are significant to the author’s argument that Jesus’ priesthood is not Aaronic but rather belongs to the order of Melchizedek (esp. Heb 7:11).

Bibliography H. Bamberger, “Aaron: Changing Perceptions,” Judaism 42.2 (1993): 201–13. W. Horbury, “The Aaronic Priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrew,” JSNT 19 (1983): 43–71. J. W. Watts, “Aaron and the Golden Calf in the Rhetoric of the Pentateuch,” JBL 130.3 (2011): 417–30. J. W. Watts, “Scripturalization and the Aaronide Dynasties,” JHebS 13 (2014): 1–15. ROBERT DUKE

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; Exodus, Book of; Family; Mediator Figures; Messianism; Pentateuch; Sinai, Mount.

Abraham Jewish writers in the Second Temple period know the figure of Abraham mainly from the story of Genesis (Gen 11:26–25:10). This text offers clues and raises questions that are taken up by early readers. Their understanding is shaped in rewritings of Genesis, in explicit commentaries, and in other compositions. Sometimes traditions are used that are not known in the story of Genesis (e.g. Josh 24:2–3, 14–15). The somewhat enigmatic text in Genesis about the early life of Abraham offers room for many interpretations. Abraham is seen as the first person who rejected the worship of multiple gods and believed in the one true God (Jdt 5:6–9; Jub. 11:16–17; 12:2, 6–7; LAB 23:5; Josephus, Ant. 1:154–157; cf. Kugel 1997: 135–36; Calvert-Koyzis 2005). He thus came to stand alone in his homeland Chaldea. This thought seems to be derived from Joshua 24:2–3, in which it is suggested that God has taken Abraham alone (see also Isa 51:2), and not his father Terah nor his brother Nahor. They served other gods, allowing Abraham in his early youth to get an idea what it meant to worship idols. These were just an illusion (Jub. 11:16; 12:1–3, 6–7; Apoc. Ab. 1:3). Traditionally, the homeland of Abraham, Chaldea, is connected with astrology, the study of the stars (see, e.g., Sib. Or. 3.219–230; LAB 4:16–17). Many interpreters, therefore, assume that Abraham in his early childhood also had been an astrologer (cf. Jub. 12:16), who also transferred his knowledge to others. In fact, he was the first inventor of astrology and founder of culture (cf. Artapanus; Josephus, Ant. 167–168; Reed 2004). (Pseudo-) Eupolemus portrays 4

Abraham

Abraham as a descendant of the giants who were saved from the Flood. In accordance with his status, he excelled in wisdom, piety, and nobility above all men. He discovered astrology and Chaldean science, which he taught to the Phoenicians and Egyptians. According to some authors, at a certain point Abraham arrived at the realization that it was not the stars that determined the fate of the people but the one God (cf. Jub. 12:17–18; Philo, Abr. 69–71; Josephus, Ant. 1.154–157). Abraham was saved by God from the hands of his countrymen, because his ideas were not acceptable in Chaldea (cf. Isa 29:22; Jdt 5:8–9; Jub. 12:6–7; Josephus Ant. 1.157). Some interpreters took into account that Abraham lived in a city, called Ur, which means “fire” or “flame” in Hebrew. In Jubilees, the burning of the house of idols (Jub. 12:12–14) is described as the climax of the storyline in which Abraham tried to persuade his father to give up idolatry. As a consequence, Abraham and his family had to depart from Ur (Jub. 12:15; cf. Heb 11:8). According to others, it was God who saved Abraham from the fire (Apoc. Ab. 8:1–6; cf. Gen 15:7). After Abraham had left Ur, he spent time in Haran before he traveled to Canaan. A famine, however, forced Abraham and Sarah to travel to Egypt to get food. The short biblical story (Gen 12:10–20) leaves room for many questions, which have to do with the potentially suspect character of Abram and the possibility that Sarai may have had intercourse with Pharaoh. In their retellings interpreters try to solve these problems (Jub. 13:10–16; 1QapGen xix 8–xxi 4; see also Philo, Abr. 93–95). In these works Abram did not resort to a ruse that Sarai was his half-sister and the abduction of Sarai was not part of Abram’s plan to save his own life on her account. In Jubilees, Abram’s ruse is omitted altogether, whereas the Genesis Apocryphon makes clear through a dream about a cedar and a palm (1QapGen xix 14–17) that it is not a question of Abram’s deceit but a divinely approved plan. According to Josephus, Sarah is Abraham’s niece, and not his sister (Josephus, Ant. 1.50–51). Moreover, Sarai’s beauty was not immediately observed after the couple’s entrance into Egypt (Jub. 13:11–12; 1QapGen xix 23; xx 17–18). It was only later that Sarai was taken by force by the Pharaoh. Rewritings seem to presuppose that there had been no intercourse between Sarai and Pharaoh. Most interpretations result in an upgrading of Abram and Sarai’s characters. According to many, Abraham’s whole life can be seen as a series of tests (Jdt 8:25–27; Sir 44:19–21; 1 Macc 2:51–52; Jub. 17:17–18; 19:8; cf. Heb 11:17). Abraham stays loyal to God despite all difficulties. He is characterized as a friend of God (Jub. 19:9; Dan 3:35; CD A iii 2; 4Q176 1–2 i 10; 4Q252 ii 8; Philo, Abr. 19.89; Sobr. 11.56; Jas 2:23; cf. also Isa 41:8; 2 Chr 20:7; see Sandmel 1971; Kratz 2009). The question arises as to why God’s command to Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac was necessary. According to some readings, it was prince Mastema who raises objections with regard to Abraham (Jub. 17:15–18; 4Q225). Although he had been a model of good behavior up to that time, God only knows if he is really faithful when God asks him to offer his son Isaac, claims the prince. God complies with prince Mastema’s request, though he knows that the test is not really necessary. The test is being executed not only for others, in the first place for Mastema (Jub. 18:9, 12), but also for others (Jub. 18:16). In LAB 32:1–4, it was the angels who initiated the test. Although the Mosaic law had not yet been received in the time of Abraham, he is nevertheless portrayed as someone who abides by the laws; he abstains from idolatry (Jub. 12:2–5, 17–20) and maintains the festivals (Jub. 16:20–31). The laws are given to Israel with the creation (Jubilees), or they are reflections of the natural law (Philo, Abr. 3–6; 275–276; Migr. 129–130). 5

Adam and Eve

As in Genesis, Abraham circumcises his sons and his household (Jub. 15:23–24; Theodotus; Philo, QG 3.45–50). The centrality of Abraham with regard to the circumcision is related to the covenant, on the one hand, but it also prevents Abraham’s descendants from mingling with other nations, on the other (Josephus, Ant. 1.192; cf. 1.214 and Philo, QG 3.52). In the New Testament, in contrast, Paul exploits Abraham’s chronological priority and his being “the father of many nations” to distinguish between keeping of the Torah given at Sinai and a faithfulness to God on other grounds (Rom 4; Gal 3). In the Apocalypse of Weeks, the figure of Abraham is the first to be designated “plant of righteousness” (1 En. 93:5), and it is to him that the “chosen ones from the eternal plant of righteousness” during the author’s own time (2nd cent. bce) ultimately fall heir. Indeed, the ideology of being exemplary or true “children of Abraham” could be a matter of debate among competing groups (Matt 3:9 par. Luke 3:8; John 8:39; Rom 9:7; cf. e.g., 4 Macc 17:6; 18:1). In the re-presentation of Abraham’s death and burial, Jubilees combines the Genesis account with elements taken from the report of Jacob’s death in Genesis. Abraham’s instructions to all his children (Jub. 20) include many commandments. His second testament to Isaac (Jub. 21) is dedicated in large part to instructions regarding cultic matters. Throughout, Abraham’s last testament to Jacob reflects an anti-gentile bias, especially in the call for separation and in the caution against intermarriage. In the Testament of Abraham, there is an extensive tale of Abraham’s last days when God sends the angel Michael to prepare Abraham for his immanent death.

Bibliography N. Calvert-Koyzis, Paul, Monotheism, and the People of God, JSNTSup 273 (London: T&T Clark, 2005). R. G. Kratz, “‘Abraham, mein Freund’: Das Verhältnis von inner- und außerbiblischer Schriftauslegung,” in Die Erzväter in der biblischen Tradition, ed. A. C. Hagedorn, H. Pfeiffer, and F. S. M. Köckert, BZAW 400 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009), 115–36. J. L. Kugel, The Bible as It Was (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997). A. Y. Reed, “Abraham as Chaldean Scientist and Father of the Jews: Josephus, Ant. 1.154–168, and the Greco-Roman Discourse about Astronomy/Astrology,” JSJ 35 (2004): 119–58. S. Sandmel, Philo’s Place in Judaism: A Study of Conceptions of Abraham in Jewish Literature (New York: Ktav, 1971). JACQUES VAN RUITEN

Related entries: Abraham, Apocalypse of; Abraham, Testament of; Astronomy and Astrology; Genesis, Book of; Idols and Images; Jubilees, Book of; Monotheism.

Adam and Eve The story of Adam and Eve is a deceptively simple tale, filled with ambiguities and silences. For most of the story, Adam and Eve are simply “the man” and “the woman,” and biblically, they are largely confined to Genesis 2–4. As the primordial couple, they come to represent divinely ordained gendered norms and relationships, and the writers of the Second Temple period attempted to present their own gendered viewpoints by engaging and developing the characters of Adam and Eve through expansive translations, pseudepigraphical retellings, and homiletic exhortations. 6

Adam and Eve

One key ambiguity surrounds the term hāʾādām (‫)האדם‬, translated “the man” or “the earth creature” and understood to be the single male Adam, an androgynous human, or a collective label for all humanity. In the Second Temple period, one strand of interpretation presented Adam as a stand-in for all humanity, excising Eve from the transmitted tale. Second Esdras, e.g., retells the creation story without reference to Eve. The Lord commands Adam into existence out of the dust and breathes him to life with his own breath. He then lays upon Adam “one commandment … but he transgressed it,” and the Lord “appointed death for him and for his descendants” (4 Ezra 3:7). In this reading, it was Adam alone who brought evil into the world because as “the first Adam” “he was burdened with an evil heart” (4 Ezra 3:21). A similar interpretation is found in the New Testament writings of Paul where he argues that “sin came into the world through one man [Adam], and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned” (Rom 5:12, see also 2 Bar. 17:2–3). Reading hāʾādām (‫ )האדם‬as a type for all humanity, these interpretations do not find Eve as a character necessary or compelling in their efforts to explain the presence of evil, sin, and death in the world. In another strand of interpretation, however, the character of Eve is developed such that she bears most or all of the responsibility for the transgression in the garden, and Adam’s guilt is lessened or even eliminated. Second Enoch identifies the serpent in the garden as “the devil” who out of jealousy “thought up a scheme against Adam. In such a form, he entered Paradise and corrupted Eve. But Adam he did not contact” (2 En. 31:3–6; van Ruiten 2000: 55–60). The New Testament author of 1 Timothy also placed near-exclusive blame for the transgression on Eve. In discussing the proper dress and comportment of women, this author explains, “For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became the transgressor” (1 Tim 2:13–14; see also Sib. Or.1.39–42; Sir. 25:24; Anderson 2001: 99–116). Another ambiguity involves the created purpose and nature of the woman. Created out of the rib of the man as a “helper corresponding to him,” the woman’s intended role was unclear. Because the creation of woman concludes with an etiology for marriage, the rabbis engaged this text to explain the proclivities of women and the vicissitudes of marriage and divorce. Bone as the raw material for woman explained women’s high voices or their stubborn and unbending characters (Gen. Rab. 17); the hiddenness of the rib under a man’s flesh suggested their divinely intended modesty (Gen. Rab. 18) (Teugels 2000: 122–25). One of the most interesting areas of interpretive development is built on textual ambiguities involving speech and silence. Several details in Genesis 2–3 raise questions about who said what to whom. First, the all-important command not to eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil was delivered to the man prior to the creation of the woman, raising the question of whether the command applied to her and how she heard of it (Gen 2:17). A second question was raised by the silence of the man during the woman’s lengthy exchange with the serpent. If the man alone received the command not to eat of the tree of knowledge “for on the day that you eat of it, you shall die (Gen 2:17),” why did he not speak up when the serpent challenged the Lord’s edict and claimed, “you will not die” but instead “you will be like God, knowing good and evil (Gen 3:4–5)”? Finally, in the Lord’s punishment of the man, he identified two transgressions, and the first was that the man had “listened to the voice of his wife.” Only secondarily is it said, “and you ate of the tree” (Gen 3:17). Careful readers know that the woman did not say anything to the man when she turned to him and handed him the fruit (Gen 3:6); therefore, this verse suggested 7

Adam and Eve

a missing dialogue that ancient interpreters were anxious to provide. The specific resolutions of speech-related ambiguities clarified the story in ways that reflected the gender norms of Second Temple readers. In response to the man’s punishment for listening to the voice of his wife, several texts indicate that Eve had indeed “persuaded” Adam to eat of the forbidden fruit. Pseudo-Philo reports “that man [Adam] transgressed my ways and was persuaded by his wife” (LAB 13:8). The Sibylline Oracles went one step further, suggesting that the silent, acquiescent Adam actually did not know that the fruit had come from the forbidden tree: “She gave and persuaded him to sin in his ignorance” (Sib. Or. 1.42–43). The man’s transgression was expanded from eating the forbidden fruit to include “having yielded to the woman’s counsel” (Josephus, Ant. 1.49). The expansive targum translations attempt to clarify the man’s role as one who speaks with authority, for they report that when the Lord breathed into Adam the breath of life, “the breath became in the body of Adam a spirit capable of speech” (Gen 2:7, according to Tg. Ps.-J. and Tg. Neof.). One of the most creatively developed retellings of the story of Adam and Eve is found in the Greek Life of Adam and Eve. In this remembered version of the transgression in Eden, Adam receives an alibi for his uncomfortable silence during Eve’s conversation with the serpent. The garden is divided into gendered halves, and Adam was on his male side of the wall while Eve conversed with the serpent, considered the fruit, and ultimately ate it. Only after she calls to Adam “with a loud voice” does he come to the tree. Seemingly in direct conversation with the Genesis text’s punishment of Adam for listening to the voice of his wife, Eve in this tale turns to Adam at the moment of transgression and says, “Listen to me.” Eve then recalls that she spoke to him “unlawful words of transgression such as brought us down from great glory.” Adam gains the authoritative voice he lacked in Genesis, rebuking Eve saying, “O evil woman! Why have you wrought destruction among us? You have estranged me from the glory of God” (LAE 21) (Arbel 2012: 45–53; Levison 2000: 251–75). As the primordial couple, Adam and Eve became the ideal sieve through which each generation filtered debates concerning the human condition, marriage, and the constitution of normative gender roles and relationships.

Bibliography G. A. Anderson, The Genesis of Perfection: Adam and Eve in Jewish and Christian Imagination (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001). J. R. Levison, “The Exoneration and Denigration of Eve in the Greek Life of Adam and Eve,” in Literature on Adam and Eve Collected Essays, eds. G. A. Anders, M. Stone, and J. Tromp (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 251–75. L. Teugels, “The Creation of the Human in Rabbinic Interpretation,” Creation of Man and Woman (2000), 107–27. J. T. A. G. M. van Ruiten, “The Creation of Man and Woman in Early Jewish Literature,” Creation of Man and Woman (2000), 34–62. CYNTHIA R. CHAPMAN

Related entries: Adam and Eve, Life of; Death and Afterlife; Esdras, Second Book of; Garden of Eden— Paradise; Genesis, Book of; Marriage and Divorce; Women.

8

Adiabene

Adiabene Adiabene (in Greek and Latin, derived from Aramaic hdyb) was a geographical region and a geopolitical entity in Hellenistic (late 4th–2nd cent. bce), Parthian (ca. 145–141 bce to 224 ce), and Sasanian times (until ca. 636 ce). In geographical terms, the core of the territory of Adiabene was located between the Great and Little Zab rivers (in modern-day northern Iraq; see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region; Map 2: Alexander the Great [ca. 334–323 bce]). This area was also known as Arbelitis, after the main city Arbela. Although the Nineveh region was initially distinct from Arbelitis, the two regions became closely integrated into the one geopolitical entity of Adiabene in Parthian and Sasanian times (Marciak 2014: 175–99). The independent kingdom of Adiabene originated in the 2nd century bce during the gradual collapse of Seleucid hegemony in northern Mesopotamia. Adiabene was conquered by the Parthians, most likely by King Mithradates I, ca. 145–141 bce (Marciak 2015: 59). After the conquest of Mithradates I, Adiabene remained an integral part of the Parthian and Sasanian kingdoms to which it was subordinate. Despite claims to the contrary (Witakowski 2013; Luther 2015), Adiabene never became part of the Roman Empire (Lightfoot 1990). From the late 1st century bce, Adiabene underwent a significant increase in importance within the political system of the Parthian vassal kingdoms. Certain kings of Adiabene, including Monobazos I Bazaios (ca. 5 bce–30 ce), Izates II (ca. 30–55 ce), Monobazos II (ca. 55–70 ce), and Mebarsapes (ca. 114–115 ce), became important political figures in Parthian Mesopotamia (Marciak 2014: 233–46; Marciak 2015: 59). At the height of its political importance (ca. late 1st cent. bce–2 cent. ce), the kingdom of Adiabene also controlled areas west of the Assyrian Khabur River (Gordyene) and as far as the city of Nisibis on the Mesopotamian plain (Marciak 2014: 196–99; Marciak 2015: 58–60). During the Sasanian period, Adiabene (like all other regna minora) lost its formal status as a kingdom, but functioned as an important administrative unit (Nōdšīragān or Nōd-Ardaxšīragān) with its own deeply Iranized local elites (Luther 2015: 286–87). In cultural terms Adiabene was inhabited mainly by speakers of Semitic languages who cultivated local ancestral customs (including old Assyrian-Babylonian cults). At the same time, Adiabene became subject to common cultural influences in the Near East, namely GreekHellenistic and Iranian cultures. Jewish settlement also took root in Adiabene starting in the 1st century ce at the latest, when some members of the Adiabene royalty, especially Izates II, his mother Queen Helena, and Monobazos II, became Jewish converts (see Marciak 2014: 23–169). The main source of information about this conversion is Josephus (esp. Ant. 20.17– 95), but it also echoes in later Rabbinic accounts (m. Naz. 3, 6; t. Sukkah 1, 1; m. Yoma 3, 10 [t. Kippurim 2, 3]; t. Peʾah 4, 18; Gen. Rab. 45, 11). That some royal Adiabeneans moved to Jerusalem and there built as many as three royal palaces (Josephus, J.W. 4.567; 5.252–253) as well as a family mausoleum (Ant. 20.95; J.W. 5.55, 119, 147) is reported by non-Jewish authors such as Pausanias (Graeciae descriptio 8.16.4–5), Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 2.12.3), and Jerome (Epist.) 108. In addition, they contributed to the welfare of Jerusalem and its Jerusalem Temple (Josephus, Ant. 20.101; the rabbinic accounts) and finally took part in the defense of Jerusalem against the Romans (J.W. 2.520, 5.474, 6.356–357). Such involvement certainly illustrates a deep integration of Adiabenean converts (Marciak 2014: 127–99, 255–64)

9

Agatharchides

and aptly demonstrates the importance and centrality of Jerusalem for all Jews in the Second Temple period, a fact well-known from both Jewish and non-Jewish sources (e.g. Ant 18.312– 313; Philo, Legatio ad Gaium. 156; Tacitus, Hist. 5.5).

Bibliography C. S. Lightfoot, “Trajan’s Parthian War and the Fourth-Century Perspective,” JRS 80 (1990): 115–26. A. Luther, “Das Königreich Adiabene zwischen Parthern und Römern,” in Amici—socii—clientes? Abhängige Herrschaft im Imperium Romanum, ed. E. Baltrusch and  J. Wilker (Berlin: Edition Topoi, 2015), 275–300. M. Marciak, Izates, Helena, and Monobazos of Adiabene. A Study on Literary Traditions and History, Philippika 66 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2014). M. Marciak, “Das Königreich Adiabene in hellenistisch-parthischer Zeit,” in Gymnasium. Zeitschrift für Kultur der Antike und humanistische Bildung 122 (2015): 57–74. W. Witakowski, “Adiabene, Ruling Dynasty of,” in The Encyclopedia of Ancient History, ed. R. S. Bagnall, K. Brodersen, C. B. Champion, A. Erskine, and S. Huebner, 13 vols. (Chichester: WileyBlackwell, 2013), 1:69–71. MICHAŁ MARCIAK

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Parthians; Revolt, First Jewish; Seleucids.

Agatharchides Agatharchides was an accomplished historian, geographer, and ethnographer of the midHellenistic period. He came from Cnidus but spent most of his career in Alexandria, active in the time of Ptolemy VI and Ptolemy VIII in the mid-2nd century bce. Three major works stand to his credit, one on the Red Sea in five books, one on Asia in ten books, and a monumental history of Europe in 49 books. Only a few fragments survive from the latter two works, but a substantial portion from the geographic/ethnographic study of the Red Sea is extant, preserved by Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, and Photius. Agatharchides gained high repute for his historical work, and the clarity of his presentation was praised by Photius as worthy of Thucydides. The extant fragments indicate that he was a man of independent judgment and strong opinions, as in his criticism of ruler cult and of Ptolemaic kings. Josephus, in two separate works, cites a passage of Agatharchides involving the Jews (Josephus, Ant. 12.5–6; Ag. Ap. 1.205–211). The fragment blames the Jews for their foolishness in failing to defend their city when attacked by Ptolemy I because the attack took place on the Sabbath. This outburst has caused many scholars to classify Agatharchides among ancient anti-Semites, but the historian’s subject here is superstition and foolishness, which he also illustrates by citing a Hellenistic princess. Jews as Jews are not his target.

Bibliography S. Burstein, Agatharchides of Cnidus on the Erythraean Sea (London: Hakluyt Society, 1989). S. Gozzoli, “Etnografia e politica in Agatarcide,” Athenaeum 56 (1978): 54–79. ERICH S. GRUEN

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Ptolemies.

10

Agriculture

Agriculture Canaan/Palestine was known in antiquity as a resource for agricultural produce. Time and again the land was invaded and looted due to its agricultural richness such as grain, wine, oil, and woolen garments. When Nebuchadnezzar captured and destroyed Jerusalem in 587/586 bce and exiled the leadership and the nobility, he ensured that agricultural productivity would not cease, with the result that “some of the poorest in the land were left by the chief of the guards, to be vinedressers (‫כרמים‬, krmyn) and field hands (‫יגבים‬, ygbym)” (2 Kgs 25:12; see also Jer 39:10; 40:10, 12; 41:8). Although the political situation varied over time, and with it the common language and culture, the ecology of Palestine remained much the same and, therefore, its activities continued without interruption (Borowski 2010). Comparison of archaeological and written evidence from the First Temple period with that of the Second Temple and later periods strongly suggests that little had changed, with the exception of a few technological developments and improved techniques. The stability of the region’s agricultural base is best illustrated by two perpetual pillars of the economy: oil pressing and wine making. The several beam oil presses recovered from Hellenistic Maresha (Kloner and Sagiv 2003), located in the Shephelah not far from Tel Miqne-Ekron and Tel Batash where similar installations dating to Iron Age II (ca. 900–600 bce) have been uncovered, attest to the strength of this industry (Kelm and Mazar 1995: 150–60). Wine making also continued unabated, and very little seems to have changed in the methods of production between the First Temple period (Walsh 2000) and the later periods (Ayalon, Frankel, Kloner 2009). While few First Temple artifacts directly attest to the contemporary methods of cultivation, detailed descriptions of plowing, planting, fertilizing, irrigating, harvesting, and processing by-products are contained in the Mishnah and Talmud (Feliks 1963). While irrigation during the First Temple period was seldom practiced (Deut 8:7; 11:10–12; see also Feliks 1963: 291–45), archaeological remains of irrigation systems dating to the Second Temple period were discovered around ʿEin-Gedi (Porath 2005). References to irrigation in this region are also known from Josephus (J.W. 4.83); moreover, irrigation rights are mentioned in documents associated with Babatha, a Jewish woman from ʿEin-Gedi who hid in a nearby cave during the Bar Kokhba revolt (Borowski 2010). Special methods and installations used for irrigation are further mentioned in the Mishnah (Sperber 1993). Among the major plants cultivated in the region are date palms and persimmon, the latter used for the production of perfume. The by-products of these plants were very attractive because they enriched whoever was in control of the area. Cleopatra VII received the region from Antony, and Herod initially rented it from her; then, after the battle of Actium, Herod assumed greater control (Josephus, Ant. 15.4; Magness 2012: 136). Significantly, income from these products helped Herod finance some of his projects. A prominent occupation in Maresha and the surrounding area was raising pigeons, as demonstrated by the many columbaria discovered there (Kloner 2003). Pigeons were raised not only for their meat or for Jerusalem Temple sacrifices but also to produce dung to fertilize soil. Similar structures were discovered on Masada (Netzer 1991: 370–373, 425–427). The central place of agriculture in the culture of Second Temple Palestine is amply reflected in motifs that appear on coins (Herodian and First Revolt) and mosaics (in synagogues and

11

Akiba (Akiva), Rabbi

churches) that include depictions of cereals and fruit, such as grapes and pomegranates. The date palm became the symbol of Judea on Roman Judaea Capta coins issued following the Roman victory over the Jews in the First Revolt (66–73 ce).

Bibliography E. Ayalon, R. Frankel, and A. Kloner, eds. Oil and Wine Presses in Israel from the Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine Periods (Oxford: BAR 2009). O. Borowski, “Agriculture in Palestine,” EDEJ (2010), 312–15. Y. Feliks, Agriculture in Palestine in the Period of the Mishnah and Talmud (Jerusalem, Magness, 1963) (in Hebrew). G. L. Kelm and A. Mazar, Timna: A Biblical City in the Sorek Valley (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1995). A. Kloner, “Subterranean Complex 21,” in Maresha Excavations Final Report I: Subterranean Complexes 21, 44, 70. ed. A. Kloner (Jerusalem: IAA, 2003), 41–49. A. Kloner and N. Sagiv, “Subterranean Complexes 44 and 45,” in Maresha Excavations Final Report I: Subterranean Complexes 21, 44, 70. ed. A. Kloner (Jerusalem, IAA, 2003), 51–72. J. Porath, “Survey of the Ancient Agricultural System at the ‘En Gedi Oasis,” ‘Atiqot 50 (2005): 1*–20*. D. Sperber, Material Culture in Eretz-Israel during the Talmudic Period (Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi and Bar-Ilan University Press, 1993). C. E. Walsh, The Fruit of the Vine: Viticulture in Ancient Israel (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2000). ODED BOROWSKI

Related entries: Aqueducts; Babatha Archive; Diet in Palestine; Revolt, Second Jewish.

Akiba (Akiva), Rabbi A third generation Tanna, R. Akiva was regarded as the leading rabbinic sage of antiquity and the most influential figure in the development of halakah in the period following the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce. As is often the case with rabbinic sages, few authentic details of his family background are known. It is almost certain that he was not of rabbinic lineage: according to legend, he began life as a shepherd and commenced his rabbinical studies at a relatively advanced age (b. Ketub. 62b–63a). Though his primary teachers were R. Joshua and R. Eliezer, R. Akiva devised his own unique method of Torah study (͗Abot R. Nat. A 6). R. Akiva brought the method of constructing halakah through midrashic interpretation to its peak. Until the time of R. Akiva, halakah consisted largely of a collection of traditions and customs together with ordinances (such as the ordinances of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai). As the midrashic method began to unfold alongside the preservation of these traditions, the sages began to set down rules that enabled new laws, touching on all areas of life, to be extracted from the scriptural text. The midrashic method was initially contrived to furnish a scriptural anchor for prevalent customs or traditions. Over time, especially in the post-destruction period, the Midrash began to be utilized to formulate new laws or to resolve uncertainties regarding halakic precedents. The method itself reached its zenith and achieved its fullest articulation through the intellectual undertakings of R. Akiva. Rabbinic literature provides anecdotes that relate how R. Akiva succeeded in elucidating halakic traditions that had been forgotten or that had become obscure through his exegetical methods (m. Soṭah 5:2; t. Zebaḥ. 1:8; cf. Yadin-Israel 2012:

12

Akiba (Akiva), Rabbi

53–60). R. Akiva’s proclivity for creative and insightful scriptural exegesis gave rise to the halakic system that has persisted to the present. As the sages were authorized to structure Jewish daily life, it was R. Akiva’s creative midrashic method that afforded them the statutory means to adapt the Torah to changing circumstances. R. Akiva’s innovativeness was perceived to be so bold that one legend even claims that Moses was unable to comprehend his exegetical method and expositions (b. Menaḥ. 29b). R. Akiva and his students also engaged in the systematic compilation of the numerous halakic traditions. The Mishnah, as it has come down to the present day, is in all probability based largely on the compilations of R. Akiva and his student, R. Meir (b. Sanh. 86a). Similarly, the extensive body of halakic Midrash produced by R. Akiva and his academy was collected by his students and his students’ students (b. Sanh. 86a). In this manner, R. Akiva’s academy embraced both aspects of halakic-legislative activity: on the one hand, the compilation of early traditions and, on the other hand, the creation of rational-legislative tools that would ensure the continued relevance of halakah for future generations. R. Akiva seemingly did not restrict his activities to the academic sphere. Rabbinic literature retains indications of his political activity: R. Shimon b. Yohai taught, “My teacher Akiba used to expound, ‘A star goes out from Jacob’ (Num 24:17), Kosiba goes out from Jacob.” When R. Akiba saw Bar Kokhba, he said, “This is the king messiah.” (y. Ta’an. 4:5, 68d) According to this tradition, of uncorroborated authenticity, R. Akiva supported the revolt led by Simon Bar Kokhba (132–135 ce) and even bestowed upon him the celebrated title “Bar Kokhba.” R. Akiva’s support grew largely out of his homiletical stance, as detailed above. He believed in the sage’s prerogative to interpret the Torah and to adapt it not only to halakic and to legal issues but also to use it to determine a political course. R. Akiva identified Bar Kokhba as the star depicted in Balaam’s prophecy and envisioned him as the future messiah destined to redeem the Jewish people from the yoke of the Roman Empire. The rebellion inevitably failed and its collapse sealed R. Akiva’s fate as well. In the framework of its suppression, R. Akiva was jailed and executed by the Roman governor. R. Akiva’s martyrdom, with his devotion to the study of Torah and the observance of the commandments even in his last moments, is depicted in the Talmud (b. Ber. 61b) and has become emblematic in Jewish lore of how God’s name can be sanctified in both life and death (Finkelstein 1936; Boyarin 1989).

Bibliography D. Boyarin, “‘Language Inscribed by History on the Bodies of Living Beings’: Midrash and Martyrdom,” Representations 25 (1989): 139–51. L. Finkelstein, Akiba: Scholar, Saint and Martyr (New York: Covici-Friede, 1936). A. Yadin-Israel, “Concepts of Scripture in the Schools of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael,” in Jewish Concepts of Scripture: A Comparative Introduction, ed. B. D. Sommer (New York: New York University Press, 2012), 47–63. MEIR BEN-SHAHAR

Related entries: Bar Kokhba Letters; Martyrdom; Revolt, Second Jewish; Talmud, Babylonian.

13

Alexander Jannaeus

Alexander Jannaeus Alexander Jannaeus (reigned 104/103–76 bce) became king and high priest after the death of his brother, Judah Aristobulus. According to Josephus, Aristobulus imprisoned Jannaeus and his other siblings for the entirety of his brief reign. After the death of Aristobulus his wife released them and appointed Jannaeus as king (J.W. 1.85; Ant. 13.320). Jannaeus ruled the Hasmonean state for 27 years. Josephus chronicles his reign in two lengthy accounts (J.W. 1.85–106; Ant. 13.320–406). The Dead Sea Scroll Nahum Pesher (4Q169) contains significant historical allusions to him as a “lion” (4Q169 3–4 i 1–8). A prayer from Qumran may possibly refer to Jannaeus (4Q448 2.2; 3.8; Eshel 2008: 101–15). Recently published papyrological evidence from Egypt suggests that the first year of his reign should be moved back from the traditional date of 103 bce to 104 bce. These documents, which record troop movements and battles in Palestine, show that his conflict with Ptolemy (Lathyrus) Soter II (J.W. 1.86; Ant. 13.330–51) began in that year (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 84). Jannaeus spent much of his time in power fighting wars to conquer additional lands (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule (II) [103–63 bce]). Shortly after he assumed the throne, he conducted a failed siege of Ptolemais (Ant. 13.324–29). Ptolemy IX (Lathyrus) Soter II, who had been coruler of Egypt and lived in exile in Cyprus, arrived with a military force to repulse Jannaeus (J.W. 1.86; Ant. 13.330–33). The two made peace. After Jannaeus contacted his mother, Cleopatra III, Soter invaded the Galilee and defeated Jannaeus in battle. Cleopatra III sent troops to the Hasmonean state to expel Soter from the region. This conflict, known as the “War of Scepters” (103–101 bce), was primarily fought in the Hasmonean state (J.W. 1.86; Ant. 13.345–55). Jannaeus survived and made a treaty with Cleopatra III, which allowed him to conquer many additional cities (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 86–7). It is difficult to reconstruct the reign of Jannaeus since the accounts of Josephus are not in chronological order and omit several important incidents (Atkinson 2016). A brief passage in the Chronicle of the Christian writer George Syncellus records that Jannaeus invaded Tyre and faced an insurrection led by the Nabateans and the Itureans; Josephus does not document these events (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 89–90). Josephus mentions Jannaeus’ successful military expeditions against Gaza, Raphia, and Anthedon. These military campaigns led to much hostility against his rule, culminating in a protest during the festival of tabernacles (Ant. 13.372–73 cf. J.W. 1.88–89). He unleashed his mercenaries against the demonstrators; they killed 6,000 in the Temple precincts. This atrocity caused some Jews to side with the Seleucid ruler Demetrius III during his unsuccessful invasion of the Hasmonean state (J.W. 1.92–95; Ant. 13.376–78). Jannaeus crucified 800 of these rebels (J.W. 1.97; Ant. 13.380). This event is mentioned in the Nahum Pesher, whose author denounces Jannaeus as “the Lion of Wrath” who “hanged men alive” (4Q169 3–4 i 5–7). Jannaeus suffered several significant military defeats (J.W. 1.103; Ant. 13.356) beyond the Transjordan, suggesting that he was not as great a military commander as Josephus portrays him to be (Atkinson 2016). Josephus also records that Jannaeus had to surrender many cities, including the valuable lands of Moab and Galaaditis beyond the Jordan River, to a Nabatean monarch named Aretas (Ant. 13.381–2). Jannaeus was powerless to prevent the Seleucid monarch Antiochus XII Dionysus from invading his kingdom and destroying his fortification wall (J.W. 1.99–102; Ant. 13.387–91). Josephus does not explain the reason for this incursion, though a brief

14

Alexander Jannaeus

Figure 4.1  Bronze prutah, 14.5 mm, of Alexander Jannaeus, reigned 104–76 bce. The front of this coin shows a lily flower and is inscribed “Jonathan the King” in paleo-Hebrew script; the other side depicts an anchor (often shown upside down) with the Greek inscription ΒΑΣΙΛΕ[ΩΣ AΛEΞANΔ]POY (of King Alexander).

reference in the Chronicle of George Syncellus states that Jannaeus had invaded the kingdom of Dionysus at some earlier date. It appears that Dionysus was seeking revenge for this previous attack upon him (Atkinson 2016). Jannaeus was in poor health for the last several years of his reign. His wife, Shelamzion Alexandra, apparently oversaw affairs in his kingdom during this time (Atkinson 2016). According to Josephus, Jannaeus died while fighting the Nabateans at Ragaba (Ant. 13.398–405); discrepancies in the extant sources, however, suggest that he may have passed away in Jerusalem (J.W. 1.106–07). He chose his wife, Shelamzion Alexandra, to succeed him as the next monarch. His son, Hyrcanus II, became the next high priest (J.W. 1.109; Ant. 13.408). The coins of Jannaeus are the most common Jewish currency found at archaeological sites in the lands that made up the Hasmonean state (see Figure 4.1). Their poor quality and large numbers are indicative of economic instability during his reign (Atkinson 2016). He also minted lead tokens that were apparently used as a temporary measure to distribute rations during times of distress. Several of his coins contain the Hebrew title “king.” Jannaeus also produced coins with both Greek and Aramaic inscriptions, dating to the 25th year of his reign. Jannaeus later overstruck many of his coins to remove the title king and replace it with high priest. This may suggest that he experienced some opposition to his use of a royal title (Atkinson 2016; Regev 2013: 215–19).

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Coins; Hasmonean Dynasty; Inscriptions; Josephus, Writings of; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Nabatea; Priesthood; Seleucids.

15

Alexander Polyhistor

Alexander Polyhistor Lucius Cornelius Alexander (ca. 105–35 bce), dubbed “Polyhistor” (Πολυΐστορ, “very learned”), was a prolific historian, geographer, ethnographer, and philosopher as well as a prominent tutor for the children of Roman elites. His numerous works, which are only known from later authors, included books on the Babylonians, Lycians, Syrians, and many other nations as well as works on poets and philosophers. Born in Miletus, Polyhistor was taken to Rome as a captive during the first Mithridatic war (88–84 bce) and was kept as a slave there by Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus. He was freed ca. 82 bce and received the name Cornelius either from Cornelius Lentulus or from the dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix. Without his efforts, far fewer sources would survive that attest to the vitality and diversity of Hellenistic Judaism. More has survived from Polyhistor’s On the Jews (Περὶ Ἰουδαιῶν, Peri Ioudaiōn) than any of his other books. It incorporated excerpts from multiple Jewish and Samaritan texts composed during the Hellenistic period that have scarcely survived otherwise. Eusebius of Caesarea’s Praeparatio evangelica (9.17–39), the most extensive source for On the Jews, features Polyhistor’s redacted quotations of Aristeas the Exegete, Aristobulus, Artapanus, Cleodemus Malchus, Demetrius the Chronographer, Eupolemus (including Pseudo-Eupolemus), Ezekiel the Tragedian, Philo the Epic Poet, and Theodotus. A century earlier, Clement of Alexandria quoted in a more limited way or paraphrased several of these authors via Polyhistor. Josephus relied on Polyhistor as well, but only cited him as a source for Cleodemus Malchus (Ant. 1.239–241). However, Josephus may also have paraphrased Polyhistor’s extract from Sibylline Oracles 3.97–161 (Ant. 1.118–119), which Eusebius attributed to Polyhistor (Chron. 12.1–9). Besides these, On the Jews contained excerpts by Greek intellectuals such as Timochares and Apollonius Molon. Jacoby (1954–1964) argued that Polyhistor produced On the Jews around the time of Pompey’s conquests in the east (late 60s) to inform the Roman nobility about the cultures of the newly annexed territories. Yet the only possible anchors for the work’s date are anachronistic chronological references supplied in Clement’s fragments of Demetrius and Eupolemus, which require a date in the early 30s bce (Strugnell 1985). It cannot be ruled out, however, that Clement rather than Polyhistor was the source of these anachronisms, which were not mentioned by Eusebius. Therefore, a date anytime between the 60s and 30s bce must suffice. Although On the Jews is usually considered an unbiased compilation of sources, Adler (2011) has cautioned that it should be viewed as a history in which sources were redacted to serve Polyhistor’s own purposes. It is clear from Polyhistor’s editorial comments, for instance, that he arranged the sources in chronological sequence according to their contents and did not incorporate the entirety of the works he cited. Though Polyhistor integrated diverse sources on the Jews without overtly imposing his own opinion, this neutrality does not preclude a bias in selection and arrangement. It is particularly striking that Polyhistor did not draw directly from the Septuagint or include the Letter of Aristeas, though the latter text may not yet have existed. Polyhistor customarily cited his sources as indirect discourse supplemented by explanatory glosses. With poetry, however, he quoted directly in order to retain the meter. Clement and Eusebius each used On the Jews, but Eusebius also drew from Clement’s commentary. Since Freudenthal (1875), most scholars have concluded that Eusebius, who included much more material from Polyhistor than Clement, was unbiased in his quotations. However, Inowlocki (2006) has challenged this assumption by showing that Eusebius has tampered in more-or-

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less significant ways with his excerpts from the Letter of Aristeas and Philo, sources that have survived independently. Thus, the fragmentary Jewish sources were redacted and adapted not only by Polyhistor but probably also by Eusebius.

Bibliography W. Adler, “Alexander Polyhistor’s Peri Ioudaiōn and Literary Culture in Republican Rome,” in Reconsidering Eusebius: Collected Papers on Literary, Historical, and Theological Issues, ed. S. Inowlocki and C. Zamagni, VCSup 107 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 225–40. S. Inowlocki, Eusebius and the Jewish Authors: His Citation Technique in an Apologetic Context, AJC 64 (Leiden: Brill, 2006). F. Jacoby, “Alexander Polyhistor,” (1954–1964), FGH 3A:262–96; 3C:722–37. J. Strugnell, “General Introduction, with a Note on Alexander Polyhistor,” OTP 2 (1985): 777–79. ANTHONY KEDDIE

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Philo of Alexandria.

Alexander the Great Alexander III of Macedonia (356–323 bce), under whom the Persian Empire was conquered, was the son of the Argead Philip II and Olympias from Epirus. Alexander succeeded his father in 336 bce, inheriting the war against Persia that his father began the previous year (see Figure 4.2). After the Macedonian victories at Granicus (334 bce) and Issus (333 bce), Syria, Phoenicia, and Palestine laid open. Before pursuing the Persian emperor Darius III as he retreated, Alexander and his generals sought to secure the Levantine coast by attacking its naval bases (Heckel 2008: 65–71; see Map 2: Alexander the Great [ca. 334–323 bce]). The cities of Aradus, Marathus, Byblus, and Sidon surrendered to the new Macedonian overlord (Diodor 17.40.2; Curtius 4.1.5–6, 15–16). Tyre, a port of crucial strategic importance, was captured in August 332 bce, after a siege of seven months; according to sources, about 2,000 Tyrians were crucified and a further 30,000 sold into slavery (Curtius 4.2–4; Arrian, Anab. 2.16.1–24.5; Diodor 17.40.2–46.5). During a short pause in the siege, according to Chares, Alexander led a small campaign in Antilebanon (BNJ 125 F 7). After Tyre’s fall, the Macedonians conquered Gaza within two months. Thereafter Alexander went to Egypt, consolidating his power by appointing Macedonians to various offices. The historicity of Josephus’ account of the surrender of Sanballat, Darius III’s satrap in Samaria, who died during the siege of Gaza (Ant. 11.321–325), is uncertain. The Samaritans revolted against the new administration and killed the Macedonian Andromachos, who had been left in charge of Coele-Syria. Alexander had their leaders executed (Curtius 4.8.9–11). Despite later Jewish legends, Alexander never visited Judea and Jerusalem (Amitay 2010b; Pastor 1997: 22). In addition to the suspicious silence of the Alexander historiographers, Alexander had too tight a schedule to pass through the territory. Furthermore, his visit would have been unnecessary in case of a surrender. It is possible, however, that his scientific staff made an excursion to the local balsam plantations (see Pliny, Nat. 12.117). The posthumously blooming legend of Alexander showed its impact on the Jewish tradition, in which his image was as ambiguous and varied as it is in the pagan and Christian traditions.

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Alexander the Great

Figure 4.2  Mosaic of Alexander III against Darius III at the Battle of Issus from Pompeii (ca. 150–100 bce). Mosaic from the House of the Faun in Pompeii. Courtesy of del Ministero dei Beni e delle Attività Culturali e del Turismo—Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli.

Josephus reported that Alexander marched against Jerusalem, being expected to plunder and ravage the city. However, when he met the high priest Jaddūs, Alexander miraculously turned out to be God’s chosen ruler over the Jews, made the proskynēsis before God’s name written on the priestly headdress, acknowledged their God as his, sacrificed in the temple, and interpreted his own fate as foretold in the Book of Daniel (Ant. 11.317–320, 329–339; Klęszar 2012: 342– 45). A variant of this tradition occurred in the gamma recension of Pseudo-Callisthenes 2.24 (Stoneman 2008: 49–52). Alexander was also introduced into Jewish eschatology as a defender of humanity, shutting the apocalyptic Gog and Magog behind the Caspian Gates (Amitay 2010: 108–9; Stoneman 2008: 182–89). On the other hand, as in 1 Maccabees 1:1, Alexander could be perceived as a cruel tyrant, plunderer, and murderer whose pride knew no limits (Klęszar 2012: 345–46). His conquest of the Levant and the military conflicts among his successors helped to introduce Hellenism to the area, which profoundly influenced the cultural and sociopolitical selfdefinition of many Jews during subsequent centuries.

Bibliography O. Amitay, From Alexander to Jesus (Hellenistic Culture and Society 52; Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2010a). O. Amitay, “The Use and Abuse of the Argumentum ex Silentio—The Case of Alexander in Jerusalem,” in Samaritans: Past & Present. Current Studies, ed. M. Mor and F. V. Reiterer (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010b), 59–72. W. Heckel, The Conquests of Alexander the Great (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). 18

Alexandria

A. Klęszar, “The Kingship of Alexander the Great in the Jewish Versions of the Alexander Narrative,” in The Greek Alexander Romance in Persia and the East, ed. R. Stoneman, K. Erickson, and I. Netton, Ancient Narrative Suppl. 15 (Groningen: Barkhuis, 2012), 339–48. J. Pastor, Land and Economy in Ancient Palestine (London: Routledge, 1997). R. Stoneman, Alexander the Great: A Life in Legend (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008). SABINE MÜLLER

Related entries: Crucifixion; Diadochi; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Persian Period; Ptolemies; Seleucids.

Alexandria Located at the western edge of the Nile delta between Lake Mareotis and the Mediterranean, Alexandria was developed on the site of an Egyptian village (Rhakotis) whose name is preserved in Coptic as Rakote. Founded by and named after Alexander the Great in 331 bce, the principal architect was Deinocrates of Rhodes, who laid it out as a Greek polis (πόλις; Bäbler 2013: 6–8). The Hellenistic and Roman City. Following the death of Alexander, the Ptolemies made Alexandria the capital of their empire and built it into one of the largest and most impressive cities of the Hellenistic world. Rome incorporated it in the 1st century bce, making it the second largest city in the empire. Strabo, who lived in Alexandria during the twenties of the 1st century bce, provided a detailed description of the city of his day (Geogr. 17.1.6–11; Figure 4.3). The city

Figure 4.3  Alexandria according to Strabo. 19

Alexandria

was protected by the oblong island of Pharos, the home of the famous lighthouse and site of the translation of the Septuagint according to Jewish tradition. The mainland was connected to the island by a mole known as the Heptastadium for its length. The mole created two harbors: the eastern or Great Harbor, protected by a cape (Lochias) to which breakwalls were added, and the western harbor or Eunostos that had broader ingress. Within the western harbor there was a second artificial harbor that connected Eunostus to Lake Mareotis by a canal. This made it possible for goods to flow from the east to the west. Strabo said that the city was in the shape of a chlamys (trapezoid) that was 30 stadia (ca. 3.5 miles) from east to west and seven-eighths of a stadia (ca. 4/5ths–9/10ths of a mile) north to south. There were two main intersecting avenues more than 100 feet wide. The royal district was in the northeast quadrant and contained the museum with the most famous of Alexandria’s libraries and the Sema or tomb of Alexander. The main theater of the city was adjacent to Lochias and was likely a key locale in the pogrom against the Jews in 38 ce. The Serapeum was on the western side of the city. It is not certain where some of the other key structures, such as the main gymnasium, were located. According to both the Alexander Romance and Philo, the city had five quarters named after the first five letters of the alphabet (Philo, Flacc. 55; cf. Kasher 1985: 247–48; Sly 1996: 36–51). The size of its population is notoriously difficult to determine. Diodorus Siculus put the free population at 300,000 (Bib. hist. 17.52.6), which has led to modern estimates of a total population of 500,000–600,000 (Delia 1991) or even a million or more (Fraser 1972). Whatever its population, the city was exceptional and was treated as distinct from Egypt as a whole: it was Alexandria beside Egypt. The Jewish Community. The Jewish community was an important subgroup of Alexandria (Smallwood 1976: 220–55). There are competing versions of the origin of the Jewish community in Alexandria (Schwemer 2013). Josephus claimed that Alexander settled the Jews there and gave them citizenship, a dubious apologetic claim (J.W. 2.487; Ant. 19.281; Ag. Ap. 2.42–43). Another story is that Ptolemy I brought them from Jerusalem to Alexandria, a not implausible claim (Let. Aris. 4, 12–27, 32–35; Josephus, Ant. 12.7; Ag. Ap. 2.44–47). It is likely that the majority immigrated, a suggestion supported by the scattered Semitic inscriptions (Hecataeus in Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.186–189; Horbury and Noy 1992: nos. 3, 4, 5; cf. also 7, 15, 17). There is evidence that the Jews settled on the far eastern side of the city in the Delta quarter initially, although they spread throughout the city over time. From an early date the Jews built prayerhouses (προσευχαί, proseuchai) with honorific inscriptions for the relevant Ptolemy (Horbury and Noy 1992: nos. 13, 14; cf. also 22 and 117). Sometime prior to the middle of the 2nd century bce the Jewish community was organized, probably into a politeuma (πολίτευμα). This enabled the community to govern themselves, although they were still subject to the Ptolemies. They also began to produce their own literature in Greek, beginning with the translation of their ancestral scriptures (the Septuagint). The community would eventually produce a great deal of literature in Greek, although it is difficult to determine precise locales for much of ancient literature. Confidence ranges from certain (Philo) to probable (Aristobulus) to possible (Artapanus). The battle of Raphia (217 bce) was a watershed for the Ptolemaic kingdom. For the first time, native Egyptians fought in the Ptolemaic army, a level of participation that led to the rise

20

Alexandria

of Egyptian nationalism and direct competition with the Jewish community. At the same time, Jewish literary output began to expand with exegetes like Demetrius and Aristeas, writers with a philosophical orientation like Aristobulus, poets in the Orphic tradition, and romance writers like Artapanus (although some may have been outside Alexandria). Outsiders like Mnaseas of Patara (Stern 1974: no. 28) and Agatharchides of Cnidus (Stern 1974: no. 30) began to tell slanderous stories about the community, indirect evidence of its importance. The century prior to Rome’s annexation of Alexandria witnessed the Jewish community’s efforts to select the victorious Ptolemy within the dynastic struggles of the ruling family. Jews and other residents of Alexandria found themselves on different sides, leading to tensions. Some outsiders, such as Timagenes, viewed the Jews positively (Stern 1974: nos. 80–82), but others like Lysimachus were bitter in their hostility (Stern 1974: nos. 158–62). Jewish literary output continued and included translation work: apologies like the Letter of Aristeas; poets like Philo the Elder, Theodotus, and Sosastes (known as the Jewish Homer); playwrights like Ezekiel the Tragedian; the Testament of Job; and the romance of Joseph and Aseneth. When Rome made its presence felt in the Alexandrian war, the Jews had some reason to be hopeful. Augustus affirmed Jewish ancestral privileges but imposed a poll-tax. The structure of the Jewish community may have now included a senate (Philo, Flacc. 74, 77, 80). The Jewish community reached an apex in the 1st century ce: Philo claimed that they filled two of the five quarters of the city (Flacc. 55; Kasher 1985: 247) and had prayerhouses in other parts (Legat. 132). It is likely that the Alexandrian Jewish community was larger than the population of Jerusalem. The wealth of the community is reflected in the traditions about the Great Synagogue that was so large that it required an officer to stand in the middle and signal when the crowd should say the Amen (y. Sukkah 5.55s). Jews continued their literary output, with writings from Pseudo-Hecataeus, Pseudo-Phocylides, poets in the Orphic tradition, and above all the philosophically oriented exegete Philo, who represents the apex of a long tradition of Jewish exegesis. Tensions were building, however. Every extant account of the Alexandrian Jewish community from an outsider is negative in the Roman period: Apion (Stern 1974: 163a–77), Chaeremon (Stern 1974: no. 178), Nicarchus (Stern 1974: no. 248), and The Acts of the Alexandrian Martyrs are all critical. The trouble was more than social. A pogrom broke out when Agrippa I visited Alexandria (Gambetti 2009). The controversy resulted in multiple embassies to Gaius (38–41 ce). The final outcome was a letter from Claudius that preserved the rights of Jews to observe their ancestral traditions, but closed the door on Alexandrian citizenship (Tcherikover, Fuks, and Stern 1957–1964: no. 153; Modrzejewski 1995: 173–84). Violence broke out again in 66 at a town meeting. The governor of Egypt, Tiberius Julius Alexander, Philo of Alexandria’s nephew, suppressed resistance decisively (Josephus, J.W. 4.287–298). A revolt broke out in Egypt and Cyrene when Rome became involved with Parthia (Smallwood 1976: 389–427). Trajan ended it by dispatching Marcius Turbo (Horbury 2014: 174). When the dust settled, the large Alexandrian Jewish community was largely—although not entirely—gone. The Gnomon of the Idios Logos, a legal code that governed different groups in 2nd-century ce Alexandria, did not even mention the Jews. The community did make a return in the 3rd through the 5th centuries ce (Haas 1997: 103–20),

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Allegory

but the world had changed, and the community that produced so much Jewish literature in Greek was history (114–117 CE).

Bibliography B. Bäbler, “Zur Archäologie Alexandriens,” in Alexandria, ed. T. Georges, F. Albrecht, and R. Feldmeier, COMES 1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 3–27. D. Delia, Alexandrian Citizenship during the Roman Period, ACS 23 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991). P. M. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 3 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972). C. Haas, Alexandria in Late Antiquity: Topography and Social Conflict (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997), 91–127. A. M. Schwemer, “Zur griechischen und jüdischen Gründungslegende Alexandriens,” in Alexandria, ed. T. Georges, F. Albrecht, and R. Feldmeier, COMES 1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 175–92. D. Sly, Philo’s Alexandria (London: Routledge, 1996). G. E. Sterling, “‘Thus are Israel’: Jewish Self-Identity in Alexandria,” SPhiloA 7 (1995): 1–18. GREGORY E. STERLING

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Diaspora; Heliopolis; Synagogues; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Allegory Allegory is a hermeneutical method that assumes that a given text contains two (or more) levels of meaning. In Second Temple Judaism, this form of analysis was applied to extract from biblical passages (mainly the Torah) philosophical insights that appeared, on the surface, to be absent from these texts. Practitioners of the method understood these insights to reside on their allegorical, as opposed to their literal, level of meaning. Jewish allegorical interpretation is mainly, though by no means exclusively, associated with the works of Pseudo-Aristeas, Aristobulus, and Philo of Alexandria. In the Letter of Aristeas 127–171, Pseudo-Aristeas allows the high priest Eleazer to perform an allegorical elucidation of certain of the Jewish dietary laws, which, the high priest explains, when exposed according to their “deeper meaning” (λόγον βαθύν, logon bathun), provide the reader of these laws with profound moral instruction. Similarly, in fragments transmitted by Eusebius, Aristobulus explains how, when properly decoded, the Jewish calendar may be seen to match the structures of the sky (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 7.32.16–18; Praep. ev. 13.12.9–16) and how the descriptions of God’s limbs and movements in the Bible should be understood as symbolic references to God’s powers and providence (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 8.10.1–7). With Philo of Alexandria, Jewish allegorical interpretation reached an apex of sophistication. Philo was indebted to his predecessors, but unlike Pseudo-Aristeas and Aristobulus, he inscribed the allegorical method into a carefully crafted Middle-Platonic worldview (e.g. Contempl. 78), made use of allegorical readings to discuss and develop philosophical concepts, and provided a sustained allegorical commentary on large portions of the Torah. The insights perceived at the allegorical level of the Bible generally complied with standards of Greco-Roman philosophy. Thus, allegorical readings could be used not only to unearth philosophical wisdom from the biblical texts but also to prove these texts’ philosophical acuity.

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Allegory

And since the authors of biblical traditions were generally seen to predate the Greeks and the Romans, Greco-Roman philosophy could then be perceived as being derivative of Jewish tradition. This provided Jewish allegorists with powerful intellectual ammunition in situations of cultural antagonism (cf. Mansfeld 1988; Dawson 1992). Jewish allegorical readers generally did not dismiss the truthfulness of the literal meaning of biblical traditions, except when they featured disturbing notions such as anthropomorphic depictions of the deity. Philo held that scriptural texts serve both as a reliable account of the history of the Jews at their literal level of meaning and as a source for profound ethical and (meta)physical wisdom at their allegorical level of meaning. Thus, while Pseudo-Aristeas, Aristobulus, and Philo all believed that the laws of the Torah should be subjected to allegorical readings, they also held that these laws had to be observed according to the letter. Philo’s works, though, reveal that some Jews argued that since the Jewish laws were allegories, one should not pay heed to their literal meaning, and thus, for instance, not submit to physical circumcision (Migr. 89–94). Jewish allegorical interpretation of biblical tradition should not be confused with Stoic allegory of myth. Whereas Jewish allegorists believed that Moses and other biblical writers had intentionally embedded divine wisdom into the sacred texts, Stoic philosophers allegorized traditional myth on the assumption that, e.g., Homer and Hesiod had unwittingly crafted their stories in ways that transmitted philosophical insights from the earliest generations of humanity (Long 1997; Bernhard 1997; Boys-Stones 2003). The techniques of Jewish allegory were adopted by early Christian writers such as Clement of Alexandria (e.g. Strom. 3.68.1; 5.55.1–3; Quis div. 29.2–5) and Origen (e.g. Comm. Jo.; Princ. 4), and possibly even by New Testament authors such as Paul (Gal 4:21–31) and the writer of the letter to the Hebrews (4:1–10; 8:1–6; 9:1–10; cf. Svendsen 2009).

Bibliography W. Bernhard, “Zwei verschiedene Methoden der Allegorese in der Antike,” in Die Allegorese des antiken Mythos in der Literatur, Wissenschaft und Kunst Europas, ed. H.-J. Horn and H. Walters (Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz Verlag, 1997), 63–83. G. R. Boys-Stones, “The Stoics’ Two Types of Allegory,” in Metaphor, Allegory, and the Classical Tradition: Ancient and Modern Revisions, ed. G. R. Boys-Stones (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 189–216. D. Dawson, Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision in Ancient Alexandria (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992). A. A. Long, “Allegory in Philo and Etymology in Stoicism: A Plea for Drawing Distinctions,” in SPhA 9 (1997), 198–210. J. Mansfeld, “Philosophy in the Service of Scripture: Philo’s Exegetical Strategies,” in Questions of Eclecticism: Studies in Later Greek Philosophy, ed. J. M. Dillon and A. A. Long (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 70–102. S. N. Svendsen, Allegory Transformed: The Appropriation of Philonic Hermeneutics in the Letter to the Hebrews, WUNT 2.269 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). STEFAN N. SVENDSEN

Related entries: Alexandria; Egypt; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Romanization.

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Alms and Almsgiving

Alms and Almsgiving A striking feature of Second Temple Judaism is its devotion to almsgiving. This religious development had an enormous influence on both rabbinic Judaism and early Christianity (Gray 2011: 144–49; Downs 2016). The word “alms” is a corruption of the Greek word, ἐλεημοσύνη eleēmosynē, meaning “an act of mercy.” Though one thinks of alms primarily in monetary terms, the concept also includes deeds of kindness such as burying the dead and visiting the sick and prisoners. Rabbinic Judaism reserved the term ṣdqh (‫ )צדקה‬for monetary assistance and used ḥsd (‫ )חסד‬and gmylût ḥsdym (‫ )גמילות חסדים‬to denote other acts of kindness, but in Second Temple sources, no such distinction was made: ṣedaqa and ḥesed can refer to both (Joosten 2012: 107–8). To be sure, acts of kindness to the poor were a crucial feature of the religion of the Hebrew Bible, but several distinctive features of the practice arose during the Second Temple period. First, almsgiving became, in some sources, the most important of all the commandments (Anderson 2013: 15–34). This is stated explicitly in rabbinic literature (t. Pe’ah 4:19) and is implied by Matthew 25:31–46 wherein eternal life is dependent on the practice of this virtue. However, such an understanding is already present tacitly in the Book of Tobit where almsgiving becomes the central commandment in several occasions of legal instruction (Tob 4:6–11, 12:8–9, 14:8–9). Secondly, almsgiving is equated with religious sacrifice. One thinks of the famous story of Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai who declared that after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple (70 ce), atonement would be secured through charity. Hosea 6:6 was his proof text: “I desire mercy (ḥesed in its later Hebrew meaning) not sacrifice.” This equation is already well established in Ben Sira (e.g. Sir 35:1–2). Since the author of the latter knew of and revered the sacrificial cult, this new concept did not require the absence of the Temple (Gregory 2010: 222–53). Thirdly, almsgiving funded a treasury in heaven. This idea was very important to the Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels. The origins of the concept can be traced back to Tobit (4:9–10) and Ben Sira (29:11–12) who in turn were dependent on an exegesis of Proverbs 10:2/11:4 (Anderson 2013: 53–69). Key for these writers is the antithesis between mammon and God. It is all too human to think that vast stories of wealth will be a bulwark against any future contingency (cf. Luke 12:16–21), but Scripture teaches that the only treasury to be trusted is one that is funded by charitable deeds. Paradoxically, giving away material goods becomes the means of acquiring true wealth. The authors of the Gospels were attracted to the “cruciform” character of this Jewish teaching (Mark 10:17–31 and parallels). Finally, whereas intra-human reciprocity was the dynamic that drove Greco-Roman practices of generosity, Jewish practices presumed divine intervention (Gregory 2010: 171–221). The former eschewed gifts to the poor for they could never repay the favor, whereas Jews privileged the poor because God stood surety for them (Prov 19:17, Sir 29:1–13). Helping the poor was both a shrewd monetary strategy and an expression of faith in God to deliver on his promises.

Bibliography G. A. Anderson, Charity: The Place of the Poor in the Biblical Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013). D. J. Downs, Alms: Charity, Reward, and Atonement in Early Christianity (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2016). A. Gray, “Redemptive Almsgiving and the Rabbis of Late Antiquity,” JSQ 18 (2011): 144–84.

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Amulets

B. Gregory, Like an Everlasting Signet Ring: Generosity in the Book of Sirach, DCLS 2 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010). J. Joosten, Collected Studies on the Septuagint: From Language to Interpretation and Beyond, FAT 83 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012). GARY A. ANDERSON

Related entries: Grace (Ḥesed); Faith and Faithfulness; Matthew, Gospel of; Righteousness and Justice; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sages; Temple Tax; Tribute and Taxes; Wealth and Poverty; Worship.

Amulets An amulet was a charm either worn or carried by a person to ward off evil, especially the attack of an evil spirit. Jewish use of amulets is sparsely attested early in the Second Temple era, but is amply seen throughout the Roman period and beyond (cf. Naveh and Shaked 1985). Jewish amulets typically contained the names of angels and patriarchs (esp. Solomon). They were also often engraved with Jewish symbols, such as the menorah, or the image of Solomon as a cavalier. Sometimes the amulets also bore the images of pagan deities or symbols as well as various magical symbols and nomina barbara (i.e. long or short permutations of different letters of doubtful meaning). It was precisely in the realm of magic where a certain degree of syncretism can be identified. Amulets were constructed out of a variety of objects, most often precious stones, but lead leaves were also common. The earliest attested examples of Jewish amulets are two thin sheets of silver (lamellae) dated to the 6th century bce found in Jerusalem (Ketef Hinnom) in 1979. Second Maccabees 12:40 likely points to some of Judas Maccabeus’ soldiers wearing amulets. After a difficult campaign against Gorgias, the governor of Idumea, some of Judas’ men returned to retrieve the bodies of their dead soldiers, but were surprised when they found that “under the tunic of each one of the dead they found sacred tokens (ἱερώματα, hierōmata, “amulets”) of the idols of Yavneh.” Jewish use of amulets must be understood as part of the larger picture of magical practices during the Second Temple period. Magic flourished in popular practice despite condemnation from those in authority (see Alexander 1986: 342). This was true at Qumran where a variety of magical texts were discovered, such as (1) 11QApocryphal Psalms (or 11QPsApa), a text that serves an apotropaic function; (2) 4Q560 (or 4QExorcism), an Aramaic fragment dated to 50 bce that may have served as a manual on magic; and (3) 4Q510 and 511 (or 4QSongs of the Sage), hymns that were probably recited to counteract the influence of demons. Magical gems or stones bearing Jewish names and symbols are prevalent during the Roman era. These amulets are notoriously difficult to date with any precision, and they are also difficult to identify as distinctively Jewish because of the common mixing of Jewish and pagan elements. One such amulet discovered north of Pergamum in Asia Minor bears the inscription, “Michael, Gabriel, Ouriel, Raphael, protect the one who wears this. Holy, holy, holy. ΠΙΠΙ [the Greek script here may be a representation of the Tetragrammaton] RPSS. Angel Araaph, Flee, O hated one: Solomon pursues you.” In the center of the amulet is the figure of a horseman (probably best interpreted as Solomon) led by an angel and spearing a woman and a snake (see Goodenough 1953: 2.229–30 [Fig. 1052; Figure 4.4]). The use of amulets in the Second Temple period, as one feature of a larger pattern of Jewish engagement with magic and rituals of power, was not isolated to one group within Judaism or

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Angels

Figure 4.4  Amulet from Asia Minor naming Michael, Gabriel, Ouriel, and Raphael.

to one location. It is attested in Israel and throughout the diaspora. Evidence for the use of amulets grows even more extensive in the late Roman and Byzantine eras. As Bohak notes, “It is estimated that around 5,000 late-antique magical gems are extant in dozens of collections worldwide” (Bohak 2008: 159).

Bibliography P. S. Alexander, “Incantations and Books of Magic,” The History of the Jewish People (1986), 3:342–79. J. Naveh and S. Shaked, Amulets and Magic Bowls: Aramaic Incantations of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 1985). CLINTON E. ARNOLD

Related entries: Demons and Exorcism; Idols and Images; Magic and Divination; Uriel.

Angels Angels are heavenly beings that were thought to occupy various positions in the celestial hierarchy. The ancient Hebrew and Greek words (‫מלאך‬, mlʾk; ἄγγελος, angelos) refer to messengers either (a) between human beings or (b) between God/the gods and human beings, with the latter involving a heavenly messenger. Only in the Latin Vulgate was a clear distinction made between these two types of messenger, so that the term nuntius was applied to human

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Angels

messengers while angelus denoted divine messengers, and so providing (in addition to the Greek term) the root for the modern word, angel. Angels appear in a wide range of Second Temple writings, including parts of the Hebrew Bible, the Dead Sea Scrolls, “Apocrypha,” “Pseudepigrapha,” as well as the New Testament and early Christian texts. Theologically, the notion of angels has served as a way to come to terms with God’s transcendence, as a possible explanation for evil in the world, and as exemplars for imitation and for transformation of humans in the afterlife (e.g. Matt 22:23–33; Mark 12:18–27; Luke 20:27–40). The category of angel can apply to a number of heavenly beings in Second Temple literature. The Hebrew Bible contains references to Cherubim (esp. Ezek 10; 11:22), Seraphim (Isa 6:2, 6), and Sons of God (see variously Gen 6:2, 4; Ps 29:1; 82:6; 89:6; Job 1:6; 2:1; 38:7). Additionally, there are individual angels such as the Angel of the Lord (e.g. Gen 16; 22; Exod 3:2, Num 22; Judg 2, 6, 13; 1 Chr 21; Zech 3; Bel 34, 36) and the archangels (as a group: 1 En. 9:1; 20; 40:9–10; 54:6; 69; 71; 87:2–4; 1QM ix 15–16; Tob 12:15): Gabriel (Dan 8:16; 9:21; 1 En. 10:9; 4Q529 1.4; Luke 1:19, 26) and Michael (Dan 10:13, 21; 12:1; 1 En. 10:11; 67:1; 2 En. 23–24; 34:11; 1QM xvii 16–17; 4Q529 1.1; 4Q557 1.2; 3 Bar. 11–15; Jude 9; Rev 12:7). There are other archangels besides the two mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. Raphael is highlighted in the Book of Tobit (Tob 3:17; 5:4; 7:8; 8:2; 9:1, 5; 11:2, 7; 12:15; cf. also 1 En. 10:4, 22; Book of Giants at 4Q203 8.12), and Uriel in both 1 Enoch and 4 Ezra (1 En. 19:1; 33:3–4; 72:1; 74:2; 75:4; 77:8; 4 Ezra 4:1, 5:20, 10:28). Other beings such as the Holy Spirit (Ascen. Isa. 7:23; 9:35–10:4), Logos (Philo, Alleg. Interp. 3.177; Deus 182; Conf. 146; Mut. 87), and Wisdom (possibly Wis 1:6; 6:12; 9:4; 10:4–6) could also be considered angels. Lastly, it is noteworthy that in some texts angels are sometimes equated with stars (e.g. Rev 1:20; cf. 1 En. 82:4–20). Although beings called “angels” are not explicitly said to have wings, they do possess the necessary and rare ability to traverse the space between heaven and earth. Genesis explains the movement of angels as climbing a ladder that reaches from earth to heaven (Gen 28:12; cf. John 1:51). The Cherubim (see 1 Kgs 6:27; 8:7; 1 Chr 28:18; 2 Chr 3:11, 13; 5:7–8; Ezek 10:1–20; 11:22, cf. 2 Sam 22:11) and Seraphim (Isa 6) are presented with wings, and these analogues were likely the source for this common belief. In the literature, when angels go down to earth, angels often appear as young men (e.g. Tob 3–12; Acts 1:10–11; Fletcher-Louis 1995: 88). Often, once their work is complete, angels reveal their true appearance as luminous beings, causing fear in the human seer (Sullivan 2004: 30–34; Stuckenbruck 1995: 78–104). Besides their appearance, angels differ from humans because of their divine nature. There are two notable examples in the literature. First, angels do not need human sustenance (Goodman 1986; cf. e.g., Tob 12:19). Second, angels do not seem to require sex for procreation; however, at least one set of angels seem to have sexual desire (Sullivan 2006). The angels (Sons of God) who pursued their sexual desires are sometimes known as Fallen Angels or the Watchers (Gen 6:1–4; 1 En. 1–36). The Fallen Angels are sometimes understood as demons and servants of Satan. In some texts, they seem to be an alternative explanation for the origins of evil in the world (Orlov 2012). A number of texts suggest that various groups thought that they could be in communion with angels while still on earth (Davidson 1992: 316–320). The most well-known of these was the Qumran community or Yaḥad. The goal of communities such as Qumran seems to have been

27

Angels

to live a pure life that permitted the presence of (and also paralleled the activities of) the angels in order to make the sectarians closer to God (Sullivan 2006). In particular, the group seems to have been concerned with one of the primary functions of angels when in heaven, namely the worship of God (evident in texts like the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice [4Q400–407]). In addition, angels could be regarded as examples to follow (cf. esp. 4Q418 69.10–15). Related to the idea of communing with angels are the instances where the distinction between individual humans and angels is not always clear. Some righteous humans (e.g. Adam, Enoch, Jesus) take on angelomorphic qualities and become important mediator figures (Charlesworth 1980; FletcherLouis 1995; Gieschen 1998; Sullivan 2004: 85–141). As noted, angels’ primarily function on earth is to serve as messengers and interpreters of revelation. However, they function in other roles as well: as guardian angels, as warriors, and also as escorts for the dead. The notion of angels as guardians is common, as attested in Genesis 19, Daniel 3, Tobit (throughout), Matthew 18:10, and Acts 5:19 and 12:6–15. Angels also minister to Jesus in the wilderness (Matt 4:11; Mark 1:13), and they can serve as guardians of entire nations (e.g. Deut 32:8). Angels also serve as warriors for God (Michalak 2012). The Angel of the Lord functions on several occasions (e.g. Num 22:22–23) as a defender or warrior. One of the more well-known passages is Exodus 14:19–20. This tradition continues with the named archangels in both the Book of Daniel (Dan 8–12) and in the Qumran War Scroll (e.g. 1QM ix 15–16). Michael’s role as warrior is reinforced in the New Testament (Rev 12:7, cf. T. Ab. 2:4). Examples of angels being sent en masse to serve in combat include 2 Kings 6:15–17 and 2 Maccabees 3:26, along with other passages such as Jesus’ statement in Matthew 26:53. Lastly, angels can be presented as psychopomps, i.e. as those who escort the recently deceased into the afterlife. This is another reason that angels may undertake a journey to earth. An example appears in Luke 16:22–23. This role is also implied in the Epistle of Jude 9 (cf. T. Ash. 6:4–7, LAE 40–43) and is more fully articulated in the Testament of Abraham. If humans were believed to travel to heaven and/or to transform into angels in the afterlife, then it is logical that angels would act as companions for those humans who were traveling a path that the angels knew well (between earth and heaven).

Bibliography J. H. Charlesworth, “The Portrayal of the Righteous as Angels,” Ideal Figures (1980), 135–51. M. Davidson, Angels at Qumran: A Comparative Study of 1 Enoch 1–36, 72–108 and Sectarian Writings from Qumran (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992). C. H. T. Fletcher-Louis, Luke-Acts: Angels, Christology and Soteriology, WUNT 2: 94 (Tübingen: MohrSiebeck, 1995). D. Goodman, “Do Angels Eat?” JJS 37 (1986): 160–75. A. Orlov, Dark Mirrors: Azazel and Satanael in Early Jewish Demonology (New York: SUNY Press, 2012). K. Sullivan, “Sexuality and Gender of Angels,” in Paradise Now: Essays on Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism, ed. A. D. DeConick (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006), 211–28. KEVIN P. SULLIVAN

Related entries: Death and Afterlife; Demons and Exorcism; Mediator Figures; Satan and Related Figures; Sexuality.

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Animal Worship

Animal Worship The disdain for animal worship in Judaism emerges in the context of Canaanite veneration of images of animals, including calves or young bulls (in the worship of Baal, El, Dagon, and YHWH; Zevit 2003: 317, 571–74). The archetypal scene of Israelite apostasy and idolatry involves worship of a golden calf (Exod 32:1–8). The Northern Kingdom of Israel is depicted as returning to this apostasy when Jeroboam erected two golden calves in shrines at Dan and Bethel (1 Kgs 12:28– 30; cf. 2 Kgs 10:29). Hezekiah destroys the copper serpent, although made by Moses at God’s command (Num 21:6–9), because it was being treated as a cultic image (2 Kgs 18:4). Second Temple Judean texts often refer to Egyptian animal worship (Smelik and Hemelrijk 1984). The Septuagint mocks the cult of Apis in the Greek version of Jeremiah 26:15 (= Jer 46:15 in the Masoretic Text). The Letter of Aristeas (§135 and §138) ridicules foolish Egyptians for venerating wild animals, while the Wisdom of Solomon (11:15; 12:24–27; 15:18–16:4) describes the Egyptians as tormented by the very hateful beasts they adore. Artapanus (3rd or 2nd cent. bce) claims that Moses instituted Egyptian animal worship to secure the Egyptian monarchy, but then reports that the sacred animals were destroyed at the Red Sea. Artapanus also states that Moses discovered useful bovines, which the Egyptian king deified as Apis and later buried to hide Moses’ innovation. Philo of Alexandria (ca. 20 bce–40 ce) depicts the Egyptians bestowing divine honors on irrational animals (Contempl. 8–10), causing their souls to be transformed into beasts by this worship (Decal. 76–80). Philo also connects the Alexandrians’ deification of Caligula and devaluation of divinity with their veneration of animals (Legat. 139, 163). In the New Testament, Paul accuses humankind of having exchanged the worship of God for images of birds, animals, or reptiles (Rom 1:23, perhaps drawing on Wis 13–16). Revelation 13 envisions that the world will worship a beast from the sea, a great hybrid animal (in fulfillment of Dan 7:1–8, 10, 15–27) with blasphemous names on its ten heads. For their part, Egyptians may have alleged that the Jews, like the Hyksos invaders of Egypt, revered the demonic Seth (Typhon) and his sacred totem, the wild ass. Accordingly, Mnaseas, Apion, and Damocritus maintained that the Jews worshiped the head of an ass placed in the Jerusalem Temple (cf. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.65; Schäfer 1997: 55–62; Bar-Kochva 2010: 206–49, 259–63). In this vein, the 1st-century ce Roman author Petronius wrote that the Jews worship a pig god (Schäfer 1997: 66–81). Egyptians also accused the Judeans of offenses against sacred animals. Manetho (so Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.239, 249) asserted that Moses had commanded the Jews to kill and eat Egyptian sacred animals, a charge echoed by Tacitus (Hist. 5.4.3). The destruction of the Jewish temple of Elephantine in 410 bce, located next to the temple of the ram god Khnum, may have been provoked by Egyptian opposition to the paschal lamb sacrifice there (Schäfer 1997: 121–28).

Bibliography K. A. D. Smelik and E. A. Hemelrijk, “‘Who Knows Not What Monsters Demented Egypt Worships?’ Opinions on Egyptian Animal Worship in Antiquity as Part of the Ancient Conception of Egypt,” ANRW II.17.4 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1984), 1852–2000. Z. Zevit, The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis of Parallactic Approaches (London: Continuum, 2003). JED WYRICK

Related entries: Alexandria; Emperor Cult; Idols and Images; Imperial Cult, Jews and the; Sacrifices and Offerings.

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Antichrist

Antichrist “Antichrist,” a term initially found in several New Testament texts, describes an eschatological figure in which features of eschatological opposition against God and God’s elect are combined from Second Temple Jewish traditions. The word antichristos (ἀντίχριστος) in 1 John 2:18, 22; 4:3, and 2 John 7 apparently refers to an opponent (or opponents) of Jesus Christ whose advent would precede his parousia (Lietaert Peerbolte 1996: 96–113). From the 2nd century onward, Christian authors merge this figure with the “Lawless Man” (ἄνθρωπος τῆς ἀνομίας, anthrōpos tēs anomias) mentioned in 2 Thessalonians 2:1–12, as well as with the eschatological opponents described in the Book of Revelation (esp. chs. 12–13). The advent of this antichrist figure is subsequently located within a time frame based on Mark 13 (par.) and the Book of Revelation (cf. Did. 16; Barn. 4; Justin, Dial. 32; 110, Ascen. Isa. 4; and Apoc. Pet. 2:7–13). Polycarp (Phil. 7:1) refers to antichrist in a way that suggests he knew the Johannine tradition. Christian speculation about antichrist drew on various elements in early Jewish accounts regarding the final period of history (Bousset 1895: 59–64; McGinn 1994: 9–32). Many such texts that are concerned with eschatological events show influence from the Book of Daniel (e.g. Jenks 1991: 41–43), and they divide history into periods that culminate in a time of lawlessness, a motif common to apocalyptic literature (e.g. Dan 7–8; 11–12, Jub. 23:16–21, 1 En. 80:2–7; 91:6–7, 11; 93:9–10; 98:4–8; 100:1–4, As. Mos. 7–8, 4 Ezra 5:1–12; 6:18–24; 8:49–50; 9:3–6; 14:16–18; 2 Bar. 48:26–41; Sib. Or. 3.635–651, 796–806; 4.152–161). Other apocalyptic texts describe the advent of an eschatological tyrant at the final stage of history (e.g. Dan 7:8.20–27; 8:9–12.23–25; 11:21–45; As. Mos. 8:1–3; 4 Ezra 5:6; 11:29–35; 12:23–31; 2 Bar. 36:7–11; 40:1–3; Sib. Or. 3.75–92, 611–615). The tradition of a final assault by gentile nations against Israel also features prominently (Jub. 23:22–25; 1 En. 56:5–8; 90:13–19; 4 Ezra 13:5–38; Sib. Or. 3.657–668; and the Dead Sea Scrolls, e.g., 4Q174 and 4Q246). The two chaos monsters from the sea (Leviathan) and the land (Behemoth), where they are hidden, will be devoured at the eschatological banquet at the end of times (1 En. 60:7–8.24–25; 4 Ezra 6:49–52; 2 Bar. 29:4). These two creatures have shaped the two beasts described in Revelation 13 and thus indirectly influenced the tradition of antichrist, since later literature models him after the first beast of the aforementioned chapter (Lietaert Peerbolte 1996: 114–169). An element hardly found in Jewish sources, but that features prominently in early Christian speculation, is the rise of false teachers and false prophets in the final stage of history. Some early Christian texts explicitly refer to “false messiahs and false prophets” (ψευδόχριστοι καὶ ψευδοπροφῆται, pseudochristoi kai pseudoprophētai; cf. Mark 13:22 par. Matt 24:24), implying that messianic pretenders other than Jesus would lay claim to divine authority (Lietaert Peerbolte 1996: 23–62). Apocalyptic texts seem to be influenced by a dualistic perception of the world and history, which is taken up in a counter-narrative against imperial domination (Portier-Young 2011; Collins 2015: 289–307). The idea that the present age cannot be redeemed unless it is replaced by a new creation is a step away from older characterizations in which the world could be renewed (see, e.g., Isa chs. 65–66). Especially the “sectarian” documents in Qumran indicate a division of the world into two realms: the realm of God/Michael/the Anointed One(s)/the Sons of Light and the realm of Belial/evil/the Sons of Darkness (see, e.g., 1QM xiv 8–10; 1QS iv 18–23; CD A viii 2; outside Qumran: T. Jud. 25:3; T. Levi 3:3; 18:12; T. Dan 5:10–11; T. Zeb. 9:8; T. Benj. 3:8; Sib. Or. 3.63–74, 154–173). This semi-dualistic scheme laid the foundation for the development

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Antioch (Pisidian)

of the tradition of antichrist as the ultimate opponent of Jesus Christ in the New Testament and, especially, later Christian literature. Antichrist is thus a clearly Christian innovation of existing Jewish apocalyptic traditions that are reinterpreted in a context in which Jesus is identified as the Messiah and believed to appear (again) at the end of history.

Bibliography W. Bousset, Der Antichrist in der Überlieferung des Judentums, des Neuen Testaments und der alten Kirche (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1895; Engl. Transl. 1999). G. C. Jenks, The Origins and Early Development of the Antichrist Myth, BZNW 59 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1991). L. J. Lietaert Peerbolte, The Antecedents of Antichrist: A Traditio-Historical Study of the Earliest Christian Views on Eschatological Opponents, SJSJ (Leiden: Brill, 1996). B. McGinn, Antichrist. Two Thousand Years of Human Fascination with Evil (San Francisco: Harper, 1994). BERT JAN LIETAERT PEERBOLTE

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Eschatology; John, Letters of; Mark, Gospel of; Messianism; War Scroll.

Antioch (Pisidian) Antioch (Ἀντιοχεία, Antiocheia), today modern Yalvač in South-Anatolian Turkey, was founded in the 4th or 3rd century bce by Greek colonists under Seleucid rule (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). The city belonged to Phrygia (Strabo, Geogr. 12.6.4), but needs to be distinguished from another Phrygian Antioch as Antioch near Pisidia. In 25 bce, under Augustus’ rule, the city became part of the new province of Galatia and was refounded as a Roman military colony (Cassius Dio 53.26.3). In the first half of the 1st century ce (probably around 2 ce) a mighty imperial temple dedicated to Augustus was erected in the center of the city, though it seems that the older veneration of Men Askaeos remained the most influential cult. In spite of a strong Latin element, tombstones testify to Greek as the commonly spoken language. Since the turn from the 3rd to the 2nd century bce, Jews from Babylonia were settled in Phrygia (Josephus, Ant. 12.147–153), including parts that were later been incorporated into the province of Galatia. According to Acts 13:14, a strong Jewish community with a synagogue existed in Antioch by the middle of the 1st century ce. Turkish archaeologists claim to have discovered remains of this building underneath a 6th-century basilica of St Paul. A synagogue from the 1st century ce is clearly attested by inscriptions for the Phrygian city of Acmonia (MAMA 6 nos. 264–65). Around 46/47 ce, when Antioch was at its most prosperous, the apostles Paul and Barnabas visited the city during the so-called first mission journey (Acts 13:13–14). It is quite likely that they had carried recommendations from the converted Cypriote proconsul Sergius Paullus (cf. Acts 13:6–12), who was a landowner in his home town (πατριά, patria) Antioch. After having preached in the synagogue of the city the apostles won not only some Jews and proselytes but also a number of pagans over to faith in the Messiah Jesus (Acts 13:43, 48). According to Luke, the Jewish community could influence the leaders of the city and especially some God-fearing women toward suppressing the new religious group and driving out the missionaries from the city (Acts 13:50). Such a scenario does not seem impossible (Mitchell 1993), for the synagogue 31

Antioch (Syrian)

of Acmonia was sponsored by a well-born woman named Iulia Severa, and a member of the high-regarded family of the Turronii served as one of the leaders of the synagogue. Apparently Judaism had some strong sympathizers in the ruling class of the province of Galatia. It might be implied by Acts 16:1–6 and 18:23 that Paul had visited Antioch again during the second and third missionary journeys. If one adopts the South Galatian or Provincial hypothesis for the destination of Paul’s letter to “the churches of Galatia” (Gal 1:2), then the believers of Antioch were among the addressees. It is even claimed that the community in this city was the main destination (Witulski 2000). For this hypothesis to hold true, however, Galatians has to be divided into two letters, with the fragment Galatians 4:8–20 allegedly addressed to members attracted by the imperial cult of Antioch. It seems more plausible that the letter as a whole was directed against believers whom some Jewish Christians (perhaps from Judea) had tried to persuade into becoming some sort of Judeo-Christian proselytes through circumcision (cf. Gal 5:1–12). This latter solution would also suggest that Jews in the southern part of the province of Galatia enjoyed strong positions and influence and might even indicate that they possessed lively connections to the Judean motherland.

Bibliography S. Mitchell, Anatolia: Land, Men, and Gods in Asia Minor I/II (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). S. Mitchell and M. Waelkens, eds., Pisidian Antioch: The Site and Its Monuments (London: Duckworth, 1998). R. Riesner, Paul’s Early Period: Chronology, Mission Strategy, Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). T. Witulski, Die Adressaten des Galaterbriefes: Untersuchungen zur Gemeinde von Antiochia ad Pisidiam (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000). RAINER RIESNER

Related entries: Asia Minor; Diaspora; Jewish Christianity; Luke-Acts; Pauline Letters; Romanization; Seleucids; Synagogues.

Antioch (Syrian) History of Antioch.  The city Ἀντιοχεία (Antiocheia, today: Antakya) was founded by Seleucus I in 300 bce and became the capital of the Seleucid Kingdom. It was expanded considerably by Antiochus IV Epiphanes. After the Roman conquest in 64 bce it became the capital of the province of Syria and was declared as a free city (civitas libera) by Julius Caesar in 47 bce (Plinius, Nat. 5:79). The governor (legatus Augusti pro praetore) of the Imperial province Syria also controlled Judea, Samaria, and Galilee via a prefect or a procurator (Figure 4.5). Antioch was located at the river Orontes and along major trading routes (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). Even so, its connection to the Sea via the harbor city Seleucia Pieria constituted its key role in the economic development of the region. Antioch also served as an important gateway for Roman military campaigns against the Parthians. In early Imperial times Antioch was one of the largest cities of the Imperium Romanum and called itself a metropolis. Archaeological and epigraphic evidence from Antioch is scant, since the city is still inhabited. Excavations in the 1930s were conducted by Princeton University. Jews in Antioch.  According to a small number of references in literary sources Jews were a significant minority in Antioch since its foundation. Their settlement started probably in the 32

Antioch (Syrian)

Figure 4.5  Restored plan of Antioch based on literary texts and excavations.

beginning of the 3rd century bce and continued with the growth of the city (see, e.g., Josephus, Ant. 17.23–31). Jewish quarters during the Seleucid reign were near the southern end of the city, which was incorporated into the city walls under Tiberius. Another place of Jewish settlements was in Daphne, a nearby town. Josephus states that already Seleucus I had granted full citizenship (πολιτεία, politeia) to Jews and equal status with Greeks and Macedonians. It also included donations for Jews who did not want to use gentile oil (Ant. 12.120; see Zetterholm 2003: 82–84). This had been approved by Vespasian and Titus after the First War as well (Ant. 12.119; Ag. Ap. 2.39; J.W. 7.44). Josephus’ account might be an exaggeration (Downey 1961: 107–11, 198–201), but it is quite probable that some members of the Judean ethnos were indeed full citizens of the polis and that certain rights were guaranteed the whole community by the Roman emperors (J.W. 7.106–111). During the Maccabean revolt Jews in Antioch must have been in a difficult situation. The successors of Antiochus IV Epiphanes restored brass treasures from the robbed Jerusalem Temple to the local synagogue (Josephus, J.W. 7.44). In this context Josephus calls the local synagogue a sanctuary (ἱερόν, hieron), a title that could be an indicator of the prominence of this building and its community. The story about a synagogue with the remainders of the seven martyrs and 33

Antioch (Syrian)

their mother (4 Macc 17:7–10), which has allegedly been converted into a church, is legendary (see Rutgers 1998; Triebel 2006). In ca. 100 ce the book of 4 Maccabees was probably written in Antioch. The relationship between Jews and the pagan majority was ambivalent. There are reports about a raid of the city by Judean soldiers under the command of Jonathan (160–143 bce), who helped Demetrios II Nikator (1 Macc 11:44–51; Josephus, Ant. 13.135–43). Herod the Great financed pavement and colonnades for a long street in Antioch (Josephus, Ant. 16.148; J.W. 1.425). According to Josephus Judaism in Antioch attracted many gentiles, who were incorporated into the synagogue (J.W. 7.45). During the First Jewish Revolt a Jewish renegade from a well-deemed family named Antiochus incited a pogrom and accused the Jewish community of arson (Josephus, J.W. 7.46–62). Roman officials and finally Titus ended this conflict with the abovementioned guarantee of rights (J.W. 7.106–111). On the other hand John Malalas (490–570 ce) reports that cherubs from the destroyed Temple were placed in public in Antioch (Chron. 10:45). After these tense conflicts the historical record goes silent for about 300 years. The only inscriptional evidence from Antioch is an undated inscribed menorah with the letters ΓΟΛΒ (image in Brooten 2000: 28). Inscriptions from other places mention Jews from Antioch, such as a gerusiarch Aidesios (Beth Sheʿarim, 3rd/4th cent. ce; SEG 14:835) and a person named Leontina (Tiberias, 3rd/4th cent. ce; SEG 26:1687). In 392 ce a certain Ilasios, the leader of the Antiochean synagogue, donated a mosaic to the synagogue in Apameia (IGLS 4:1319). Early Christianity in Antioch.  After the flight of many Christ-believers from Jerusalem in the early 30s ce Antioch became an important location for early Christianity (Acts 11:19–20). Within a short period a community of Jewish and non-Jewish Christ-believers developed with, among others, Paul and Barnabas as their leaders (Acts 13:1). The community in Antioch became the cutting edge for choosing not to circumcise non-Jewish believers and for proclaiming the gospel among the nations (Gal 2:1–10). Their Jewish members neglected purity practices, especially regarding food, which led to a controversy between Jewish believers from Jerusalem, especially Peter, and Paul (Gal 2:11–14). After this incident the Antiochean community tended to be more faithful to Jewish identity and developed rules for the inclusion of non-Jews (Acts 15:20, 29; 21:25). It is very probable that some early Christian texts like the Gospels of Mark and Matthew or the Didache were written in Antioch. In later times Antioch became one of the centers of Christian theology. At the end of the 4th-century ce Judaism was still very strong in the city (Meeks and Wilken 1978: 87–127). In 386/387 ce John Chrysostom gave a couple of homilies against Jews (Adversus Judaeos), which were in fact directed against Christians who attended the Sabbath celebrations and Jewish festivals. This is one important example of the ongoing appeal of Judaism for Christ-believers.

Bibliography B. J. Brooten, “The Jews of Ancient Antioch,” in Antioch: The Lost Ancient City, ed. C. Kondoleon (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 29–37. G. Downey, A History of Antioch in Syria: From Seleucus to the Arab Conquest (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961).

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Antiochus IV Epiphanes

W. A. Meeks and R. L. Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch in the First Four Centuries of the Common Era, SBL Sources for Biblical Study 13 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1978). L. V. Rutgers, “The Importance of Scripture in the Conflict between Jews and Christians: The Example of Antioch,” The Use of Sacred Books in the Ancient World, ed. L. V. Rutgers et al., CBET 22 (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 287–303. L. Triebel, “Die angebliche Synagoge der makkabäischen Märtyrer in Antiochia am Orontes,” ZAC 9 (2006): 464–95. M. Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch. A social-scientific approach to the separation between Judaism and Christianity (London: Routledge, 2003). MARKUS ÖHLER

Related entries: Diaspora; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Seleucids; Synagogues.

Antiochus IV Epiphanes Antiochus IV Epiphanes, born as third son of Antiochus III about 215/210 bce, spent at least ten years (188–178 bce) as a hostage in Rome (Livy 42.6.9) and up to three years in Athens (SEG XXXII 131; compare Scolnic 2014) before he ascended the Seleucid throne in 175 bce (see Map 5: Seleucids and Ptolemies [200–167 bce]). He killed the murderer of his brother and predecessor Seleucus IV Heliodoros, adopted his nephew Antiochus, and married Seleucus’ widow Laodike (OGIS 252). During the early years of his reign he secured his empire by intensive diplomatic activities and gifts to a series of Greek cities. His internal policy was dominated by styling himself as “god manifest” (theos epiphanes), a monetary-reform, the extension of the capital Antiochia, and journeys through his empire (Mittag 2006: 98–139). Nevertheless a revolt arouse in Mallos and Tarsos in 171/170 bce after the king had given away the revenues of these cities to one of his concubines (2 Macc 4:30–31), and his adopted nephew was killed during the summer of 170 bce (BM 35603 Rv. 12). In early 169 bce the Ptolemies attacked the well-prepared Antiochus, who beat his enemy and conquered Egypt save for the capital Alexandria. After having come to an arrangement with Ptolemy VI (compare Livy 45.11.10), Antiochus returned to Syria. Because Ptolemy reconciled himself with his siblings and the Alexandrians, Antiochus conquered the important Ptolemaic island Cyprus and returned to Egypt in 168 bce, occupying the whole country except Alexandria once again. He was crowned pharaoh around this time (Porph. F 49a; Ostr. Hor 2). Rome had not interfered in Antiochus’ actions until after its victory over Perseus, king of Macedon; on 22 June 22 168 bce, however, a Roman embassy under Popilius Laenas requested that Antiochus withdraw from Egypt and Cyprus by July (Polybios 29.27.1–8; “Day of Eleusis”). Around this time (168/167 bce) the situation in Judea also came to a head (see map 6: Maccabean Revolt [167–160 bce]). In 175 bce Antiochus had installed Jason, the brother of Onias III, as high priest (2 Macc 4:8–14). With the king’s permission Jason started a Hellenizing program by building an ephebeion and a gymnasion and by granting Greek politeuma/polis citizenship in Jerusalem to willing Jews. In return he promised Antiochus a significant increase of the annual tribute as well as a single payment of 150 talents. When Jason sends Menelaus in 172 bce to Antiochia to pay the tribute, Menelaus promised Antiochus a further increase and was appointed high priest instead of Jason, who left Jerusalem (2 Macc 4:24). But Menelaus could not pay the tribute, so his brother Lysimachos removed resources from the Jerusalem Temple and caused a

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rebellion (2 Macc 4:39–42). Antiochus tried to secure the region when he came to Jerusalem after the first Egyptian campaign in 169 bce. Moreover he removed 1,800 talents from the Temple with the help of Menelaus (1 Macc 1:20–24 and 2 Macc 5:11–16). When during the second Egyptian campaign it was rumoured that Antiochus had died, Jason recaptured Jerusalem (2 Macc 5:5–7). Thereupon Antiochus sent Apollonios, the meridarches of Samaria, who seized the city and built the Akra (1 Macc 1:29–35). Probably in autumn 167 bce Antiochus enacted the famous—but highly controversial—religion edict, which seems to have ended the traditional religious practices and ordered the installation of new cults, perhaps including a cult for Antiochus (Honigman 2014and Bernhard 2017: 245–255). One result was the rebellion of the Maccabees in late 167 bce. At first this rebellion was faced by local officers only and Antiochus concentrated on the grand festivities held in Daphne in 166 bce (Polybius 30.25.1/31.3; Carter 2001; presenting more than 46,480 soldiers and enormous riches), the recapture of Armenia (Diodorus 31.17a; Appian, Hist. rom. 66.349), and his anabasis that started in 165 bce. The aim of the anabasis was to secure or reestablish Seleucid control over Mesopotamia and the Upper Satrapies. As in other regions of his empire Antiochus renamed and/or rebuilt native cities as Greek poleis during this campaign (Pliny, Nat. 6.138–9: Antiochia-Charax on the Persian Gulf) and promoted trading activities. In March 164 bce Antiochus was forced to withdraw the religion edict by the Maccabean conquest of Jerusalem. Nevertheless, Antiochus upheld Menelaus as high priest, a decision which may have been a major reason for Judas Maccabeus’ continuation of the rebellion. Antiochus died in late 164 bce according to the ancient tradition as a result of a failed attempt to plunder a temple (1 Macc 6:8–16; 2 Macc 9; Appian, Hist. rom. 66.352; Hieronymus, comm. in Dan. 11.36; differing concerning the temple and circumstances), or perhaps of an illness in Gabai. While he had appointed Lysias as tutor for his still young son and heir before the departure to the anabasis, one of his officers named Philippos tried to usurp this position after Antiochus’ death.

Bibliography J. C. Bernhard, Die jüdische Revolution. Untersuchungen zu Ursachen, Verlauf und Folgen der hasmonäischen Erhebung (Berlin/Boston: de Gruyter, 2017). M. Carter, “The Roman Spectacles of Antiochus IV. Epiphanes at Daphne, 166 B.C.,” Nikephoros 14 (2001): 45–62. S. Honigman, Tales of High Priests and Taxes: The Books of the Maccabees and the Judean Rebellion against Antiochos IV (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014). P. F. Mittag, Antiochos IV. Epiphanes (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2006). B. Scolnic, “When Did the Future Antiochos IV Arrive in Athens?” Hesperia 83 (2014): 123–42. PETER FRANZ MITTAG

Related entries: Gymnasium; Hasmonean Dynasty; Idols and Images; Maccabean Revolt; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Persecution, Religious; Priesthood; Resistance Movements; Seleucids.

Apion Apion, son of Posidonius (late 1st cent. bce–first half of 1st cent. ce), was a Greek grammarian, lexicographer, and historian of Egyptian origin, whose passionate hatred of the Jews found its expression both in his writing and political activism (Schürer 1973–1987: III.1.604–607).

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Apion was born in the Kharga oasis in Upper Egypt, later obtained Alexandrian citizenship, studied under Didymus of Alexandria, and succeeded Theon as head of the Alexandrian school of grammarians. He taught in Rome in the reigns of Tiberius and Claudius, and traveled in Greece extensively during Gaius Caligula’s reign, as an itinerant lecturer on the interpretation of Homer. In 39–40 ce Apion was the leader of the official Alexandrian Greek delegation dispatched to Rome to counter, before Caligula, the claims of abuse that were made by the Alexandrian Jewish delegation headed by Philo, in the wake of the pogrom of 38 ce (Ant. 18.257). Josephus attacked him in Against Apion 2.1–144. Apion wrote several works, but only fragments of two of them survive in substantial quotations (Stern 1974: 389–416). His Homeric glossary was the main source of the Lexicon Homericum by Apollonius Sophista, which survives in fragments. More important for Apion’s views on Jews and Judaism are the fragments of the third (and fourth?) book/s of his Egyptian History, which originally consisted of five books. This work stands in the tradition of native Egyptian presentation, in Greek, of the history and culture of Egypt by such older and younger compatriots of Apion, as Manetho and Chaeremon. Clement of Alexandria and some later Christian authors dependent on him mention a separate work by Apion, that he composed against the Jews, but it is most probably a mistake, based on a wrong conclusion drawn from Josephus. Although Apion’s Egyptian History seems to have been widely read and considered authoritative in antiquity and was drawn upon by Pliny the Elder and Plutarch, only small fragments of it are extant, which are quoted in Against Apion, as well as by Tatian, and Gellius. Josephus states that Apion’s anti-Jewish arguments are difficult to summarize since they were presented in disorder and confusion. Nevertheless, he groups them under three categories (Barclay 2007: 167): (1) anti-Semitic versions of the Exodus from Egypt; (2) malicious attacks on the Jews of Alexandria; and (3) vicious criticism against Jewish temple-cult and religious customs. It is likely that this categorization was created by Josephus for the sake of step-by-step refutation of Apion’s attacks on the Jews. Josephus deals with Apion’s account of the Exodus in Against Apion 2.8–32, with his attacks on Alexandrian Jews in 2.33–78, and with his disparagement of the Jewish religion in 2.79–144. As far as Apion’s account of the Exodus is concerned, it is firmly rooted in the GrecoAlexandrian tradition of the Hyksos, Moses the apostate Egyptian, and the lepers, which was first attested in Manetho. Among traditions transmitted by Apion, one deserving special attention is a story of an annual Jewish ritual murder of a Greek, which is quoted in Against Apion 2.89–96 (Bickerman 2007). It is possible that Apion derived this story either from Posidonius or Apollonius Mollon, or both, but ultimately it is likely to stem from the Seleucids’ official propaganda.

Bibliography E. Bickerman, “Ritual Murder and the Worship of an Ass,” in Studies in Jewish and Christian History (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 497–527. MICHAEL TUVAL

Related entries: Apologetic Literature; Chaeremon of Alexandria; Diaspora; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Philo of Alexandria; Roman Emperors.

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Apocalypse An apocalypse, according to its best definition, is “a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisions eschatological salvation, and spatial as it involves another, supernatural world” (Collins 2016: 5). Some authorities have questioned whether apocalypses constitute a discrete genre (Rowland 1982) or can be distinguished meaningfully from prophecy and other kinds of revelatory writing (Grabbe 2003). For most scholars, however, Collins’ definition clarifies the central issues pertaining to apocalyptic speculation in the Second Temple era. At least 14 early Jewish apocalypses are known. Most notably, these include Daniel (the sole example in the Hebrew Bible), the fragmentary New Jerusalem text from the Dead Sea Scrolls; the Book of Watchers, the Astronomical Book, the Apocalypse of Weeks, the Animal Apocalypse, and the Similitudes in 1 Enoch; Jubilees (a borderline case); Slavonic or 2 Enoch; 4 Ezra (= 2 Esdras 3–14); 2 Baruch; the Apocalypse of Abraham; 3 Baruch; and the Testament of Abraham. Other definitions of the genre, or alternate dating of the texts, will generate slightly different lists. Scholarly discussion of the early Jewish apocalypses usually extends to the Revelation of John, which was composed near the end of the 1st century ce, and so is roughly contemporary with 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch and is the first Christian apocalypse. Revelation is also the first text to use the word apokalypsis (ἀποκάλυψις) to describe its contents (1:1). The word means “uncovering” and, by extension, the “revelation” of the heavenly mysteries. Later Christians redeployed apokalypsis not only as a title for Revelation (“the Apocalypse”) but also, more broadly, to refer to any writing that purported to disclose the mysteries. There are two types of apocalypses: historical and otherworldly. Historical apocalypses such as Daniel, the Apocalypse of Weeks, the Animal Apocalypse, and 4 Ezra focus on history and its end. In the classic examples of the type, a human seer receives a heavenly vision featuring vivid, symbolic images. An angelic figure (angelus interpres) then interprets the vision and reveals its meaning to the seer (and thus the reader). In some cases, information is imparted through the seer’s dialogue with this figure, as in Daniel 9 and the first three visions of 4 Ezra 3:1–9:22. Otherworldly apocalypses, in contrast, convey information on topics other than or in addition to history (Stone 1976), although the eschatological component is always present. Some examples of the type, such as 2 Enoch and 3 Baruch, concentrate on cosmological information. Others describe the motion of celestial bodies (the Astronomical Book) or explain causes behind evil (the Book of Watchers). In otherworldly apocalypses the seer typically ascends to the heavenly realm (or realms), receiving the mysteries in the process. Nearly all the early Jewish apocalypses are attributed pseudonymously to a figure to whom tradition had accorded special abilities, qualities, or prestige: e.g. Daniel is presented as the wise dream-interpreter, Enoch as the one who never died but was taken up by God, and Ezra as the scribe. Such attributions endorsed the text’s authority and guaranteed its message. They also allowed authors to situate a text’s revelatory claims in the past, to be disseminated as ex post facto prediction or validated as lost, hidden, or secret knowledge. The notional background of the apocalypses includes the antithetical dualism of Persian Zoroastrianism, the political prophecies of ancient Egypt, and Mesopotamian traditions of dream

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interpretation and astronomic lore. Most important here is late biblical prophecy (Hanson 1979), with its vivid imagery and symbolism, its oracles against the nations, and its expectations for the coming day of the Lord, the ingathering of Israel, the restoration of Jerusalem, and, in one instance, the resurrection of the dead (Isa 26:19). An apocalypse, however, is more than the sum of these parts. As with all forms of apocalyptic literature, apocalypses express a distinctive worldview (DiTommaso 2014). The apocalyptic worldview is oriented by an eschatology that radically differs from the prophetic in its transhistorical and otherworldly dimensions and in a soteriology that hinges on the postmortem judgment of individuals. Although the earliest Enoch and Daniel writings predate the 2nd century bce, it is unlikely that any exhibited a full-fledged apocalyptic eschatology. The first apocalypses in the latter sense appeared only during the Maccabean revolt (166–164 bce), which erupted as result of the Seleucid desecration of the Jerusalem Temple and attempts to institute Greek forms of worship among the Jews. These first apocalypses include Daniel, the Apocalypse of Weeks, the Book of Watchers (in its present form), the Animal Apocalypse, the New Jerusalem text, and, slightly later, Jubilees. The second and final period of intensive composition of apocalypses followed the Great Revolt of 66–73 ce and the Roman destruction of the Temple. Among the apocalypses written during these decades are 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch, and the Apocalypse of Abraham. Generally speaking, an apocalypse’s message and function reflect its compositional setting and intended audience. Jewish life during the Maccabean era and in the aftermath of the Great Revolt was shaped profoundly by conflict with hostile and oppressive gentile powers. The message of the apocalypses of these periods is a response to an existential threat centering on the loss of group identity. Despite present tribulations, the apocalypses assert that God remains in control of history, whose end is near. The battle between the forces of good and evil, actualized as the conflict between the people of God and the nations of the world, will soon arrive at its preordained climax. Some apocalypses anticipate an ultimate battle, cosmic destruction, or the coming of a messianic figure. Many expect personal resurrection and a final judgment that rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked. The function of these apocalypses is thus one of consolation, exhortation, and justification. Not every early Jewish apocalypse, however, can be correlated to settings of manifest conflict and existential trauma (cf. 2 Enoch and the Similitudes of Enoch). Also, research on apocalyptic speculation in later periods demonstrates its appeal beyond that of disenfranchised, disenchanted, or marginalized groups (McGinn 1998). Still, the other forms of apocalyptic literature in Second Temple Judaism, such as the Testament of Moses and the early Sibylline Oracles (books 1–2 and 4), display messages and functions similar to the apocalypses. Notable here are key texts of the Dead Sea community (the pesharim, the Community Rule, the Rule of the Congregation), which while not formal apocalypses express the core presumptions of the apocalyptic worldview. The same may be said for many early Christian writings beside Revelation.

Bibliography L. DiTommaso, “Who Is the ‘I’ of 4 Ezra?” Fourth Ezra and Second Baruch (2014), 119–33. L. L. Grabbe, “Prophetic and Apocalyptic: Time for New Definitions—and New Thinking,” Knowing the End from the Beginning (2003), 107–33. P. D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic: The Historical and Sociological Roots of Jewish Apocalyptic Eschatology, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979).

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B. McGinn, Visions of the End: Apocalyptic Traditions in the Middle Ages, 2nd ed. (New York: Columbia University Press: 1998). C. Rowland, The Open Heaven: A Study of Apocalyptic in Judaism and Early Christianity (New York: Crossroad, 1982). M. E. Stone, “Lists of Revealed Things in the Apocalyptic Literature,” in Magnalia Dei, the Mighty Acts of God: Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Memory of G. Ernest Wright, ed. F. M. Cross (Garden City: Doubleday, 1976), 414–35. LORENZO DITOMMASO

Related entries: Angels; Apocalypticism; Ascent to Heaven; Baruch, Second Book of; Baruch, Third Book of; Book of Parables (1 Enoch 37–71); Daniel, Book of; Dream and Vision Reports; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Enochic Circles; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Geography, Otherwordly; Jubilees, Book of; Persecution, Religious; Revelation, Book of.

Apocalypticism Introduction.  The word “apocalypticism” is an ideology or perspective bound up with the Greek word ἀποκάλυψις (apokalypsis), which denotes a revealing, a revelation, or an unveiling. As such, it underlies literature more formally regarded as “apocalypses” and is seen to apply to a worldview frequently expressed through use of the adjective “apocalyptic.” Whereas the German term “Apokalyptik” was used as a reference to ideology, the English “apocalyptic,” when used as an adjective, often functions in a broader sense, depending on the nouns to which is attached (e.g. apocalyptic thought, apocalyptic eschatology, apocalyptic wisdom). From the late 4th century bce, many Jewish writers were deeply and widely influenced by apocalyptic thought, though to differing degrees and in differing ways in various times and places. Essential to an apocalyptic worldview is the conviction that divine, sometimes esoteric, knowledge and wisdom has been and is being communicated via dreams and angelic visitors in a manner more prominent than its precedents in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Gen 37:5–10). Although Daniel and Revelation may be the best known of the apocalypses, the historical and theological influence of the Book of Watchers (1 En. 1–36), one of the earliest extant Jewish apocalypses, is significant. Attempts to distinguish carefully between, e.g., form and content may say more about modern desires for categorical precision than they illuminate the realities and issues with which late Second Temple Jewish apocalyptic writings were concerned (Sacchi 1990; Collins 2015). Contemporary Research.  One of the more pressing problems has been disparate and shifting understandings of even the most basic terms, such as “apocalypticism” itself and “eschatology”. When Ernst Käsemann claimed that apocalyptic was the “mother of all Christian theology” (Käsemann 1969: 102), he thought of it as the hope of Jesus’ return or parousia. It was with a similar (mis)understanding of apocalyptic that the Jesus Seminar adopted as one of their “seven pillars of scholarly wisdom” that apocalypticism was foreign to the historical Jesus and was instead the imposition of the early church (Funk 1993: 4). The Apocalypse Group of the Society of Biblical Literature Genres Project developed the following definition of the genre: “Apocalypse is a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial, insofar as it

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involves another, supernatural world” (Collins 1979: 9). Had this group known that some would later argue that the Fourth Gospel neatly fits that definition, they would no doubt have returned to revise their definition (cf. Ashton 2007: 491–92; Williams and Rowland 2013). Nineteenth- and early-20th-century scholarship treated apocalypticism as a perplexing but distasteful social movement. Typical of this era was the judgment of Rist, who regarded it as a worldview that was “hopelessly pessimistic concerning this present age” where there is “no prospect whatever of betterment or improvement”; the world is “irredeemable” and “must be brought to a calamitous end by divine intervention” (Rist 1962: 161). Much is changing in the study of apocalypticism. While some continue to treat apocalypticism as a distinct or discrete theological system that can be defined, recognized, and followed in a linear fashion (e.g. Sacchi 1990; Boccaccini 1998), others understand apocalypticism as a kind of theological language, a mode of expression that has some unifying characteristics while also being quite diverse (e.g. Collins 2015; Stuckenbruck 2016). Only in the last two decades has the Enoch Seminar, led by Boccaccini, subjected the Enochic literature (including its apocalypses) to a more thorough study from different perspectives, both for investigating that literature for its own sake and for understanding its later influence. One tangible result of this research has been a growing appreciation for the importance of the library of literature known as 1 Enoch for understanding the Book of Daniel, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Christian origins. Characteristic Tendencies.  In spite of the diversity of the apocalyptic imagination, some general characteristics of apocalypticism can be identified without claiming that these are essential or common to all of the apocalypses in late Second Temple Judaism. 1. The reality of revelation. Essential to apocalypticism is the belief that God has revealed secrets to humans by way of dreams, visions, or angelic visitors. While God desires to make God’s plans known, revelation is not an everyday occurrence. This understanding of revelation made it possible to use the apocalyptic imagination to address theological problems, such as the problem of evil or the problem of suffering. 2. The reality of spiritual realms and forces. Without resorting to Platonic categories dissociating non-material from material reality, apocalyptic thought held that spiritual realities had the power to effect change on worldly realities. Essential to the apocalyptic imagination was an awareness of this alternative universe (time and space) that is fully in God’s control. Sometimes apocalyptic wisdom focused on cosmological knowledge—e.g., the times and seasons or the movement of the stars and planets, as in the Astronomical Book of 1 Enoch—and sometimes it focused more on the future. One expression of this vivid sense of spiritual realms and forces is an increased interest in angels and demons. Whatever happens in the spiritual realms is essential to the realization of God’s consummation of history on earth. 3. The periodization of history. Apocalyptic texts concerned with the unfolding of time often reflect an awareness of eras or ages, with the seer, prophet, or apocalypticist typically standing at the gap between the present and a future world order into which he is allowed to gaze. 4. Ex eventu prophecy. Help for understanding and interpreting the revelation is frequently derived from a famous or otherwise remarkable figure from the past (e.g. Abraham, Enoch,

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Noah, Daniel). Since all apocalypses except Revelation were written pseudonymously in the name of some past figure, that figure was in a position to “predict” what would happen in the “days to come” (the actual author’s past, present, and future). 5. The sovereignty of God. Although God’s supremacy or dominion over all things was widely accepted in Second Temple Judaism, apocalyptic thought gave it concrete expression. God is God, sovereign over any lords or rulers that might seem to challenge God. Sometimes God’s sovereignty led to a deterministic view of history. Because apocalypses and some apocalyptically oriented texts were generally written “from below” in terms of access to power, apocalypses often proclaim the sovereignty of God in the form of resistance literature (Portier-Young 2011). 6. Modified dualism. Most apocalypses reflect a modified dualism, with the forces of good arrayed against the forces of evil, both of which are ultimately under God’s control. This dualizing tendency coexisted well with a future judgment in which the good and the bad would be separated, the good rewarded and the bad punished. 7. Hope in the future. Apocalypticism expressed a vivid hope in God’s acts in the near future. Humanity’s inability to order its own affairs is balanced by an even more vivid expectation of God’s definitive intervention in human affairs. Some scholars have emphasized the social function of apocalyptic literature as a literature of resistance. The themes of suffering and redemption from suffering are common in apocalyptic literature. It is no surprise that more recent treatments of apocalyptic literature often pursue its rhetorical program or ask about its postcolonial potential (deSilva 2009; Carey 2013; Carey 2014; Portier-Young 2014; Smith-Christopher 2014; Newsom 2014). The very foreignness of the abovementioned tendencies to a modern worldview illustrates how important it is for contemporary students of Second Temple Judaism to immerse themselves in the history, literature, culture, and rhetorical programs of this period.

Bibliography J. Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). G. Carey, “Apocalyptic Discourse as Constructive Theology,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 40.1 (2013): 19–34. G. Carey, “Early Christian Apocalyptic Rhetoric,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. J. J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 218–34. J. J. Collins, Apocalypse: The Morphology of a Genre (Semeia, 14; Missoula: SBL, 1979). J. J. Collins, “Introduction: The Genre Apocalypse Reconsidered,” Apocalypse, Prophecy, and Pseudepigraphy (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 1–20. D. A. deSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009). R. W. Funk, ed., The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus: New Translation and Commentary, ed. R. W. Hoover (New York and Toronto: Macmillan and Maxwell Macmillan, 1993). E. Käsemann, New Testament Questions of Today, trans. W. J. Montague, The New Testament Library (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969). C. A. Newsom, “The Rhetoric of Jewish Apocalyptic Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. J. J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 201–17. A. E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011).

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A. Portier-Young, “Jewish Apocalyptic Literature as Resistance Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. J. J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 145–62. M. Rist, “Apocalypticism,” in Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible: Vol. 1, ed. K. R. Crim and G. A. Buttrick (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962), 157–61. D. L. Smith-Christopher, “A Postcolonial Reading of Apocalyptic Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. J. J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 180–98. L. T. Stuckenbruck, “Some Reflections on Apocalyptic Thought and Time in Literature from the Second Temple Period,” in Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination, ed. B. C. Blackwell, J. K. Goodrich, and J. Maston (Louisville: Fortress Press, 2016), 137–55. C. H. Williams and C. Rowland, John’s Gospel and Intimations of Apocalyptic (London: T&T Clark, 2013). LOREN L. JOHNS

Related entries: Abraham, Apocalypse of; Animal Apocalypse (1 Enoch 85–90); Apocalypse of Weeks (1 Enoch 93:1–10; 91:11–17); Baruch, Second Book of; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521); Persecution, Religious; Resistance Movements; Revelation, Book of; Zephaniah, Apocalypse of.

Apocrypha, “Old Testament” The term “Apocrypha,” used as the title for a collection of (mostly) Second Temple period Jewish texts, is a consequence of post–Second Temple Period Christian reading practices and the varying positions taken concerning the canonical authority of these texts. Most simply put, those who opposed the acceptance of these texts as canonical Scripture began to apply this term to the disputed texts during the post-Constantinian period. The collection comes to be defined as those texts that are regarded as part of the canonical “Old Testament” within the Roman Catholic and Orthodox communions but are excluded from the same by most Protestant Christian denominations, which receive the canon of the Hebrew Bible as their “Old Testament” (deSilva 2018: 15; Harrington 1999: 3–8). Books within the Catholic “Old Testament” that fall into this category include Tobit, Judith, Wisdom of Solomon, Wisdom of Ben Sira, Baruch, the Letter of Jeremiah, and 1–2 Maccabees. A number of other books, however, were included as appendices in the Vulgate, notably Prayer of Manasseh and 1 and 2 Esdras (known therein as 3 and 4 Ezra). These additional texts are considered canonical within most Orthodox communions, as are also 3 Maccabees and Psalm 151. Finally, 4 Maccabees enjoys marginally canonical status in Orthodox communions. The collection also includes variant texts of Esther and Daniel, each containing a number of chapters not found in the Jewish and Protestant canonical texts of the same. These are often referred to as the “Additions to Esther” and the “Additions to Daniel,” the latter also being referred to individually: “The Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three,” embedded within Daniel 3; “Susanna”; and “Bel and the Snake (or Dragon).” There are, however, also significant differences in the main body of the text of Esther, such that it is somewhat misleading to think only of the “Additions to Esther” rather than of “Greek Esther” as a whole. “Apocrypha” is not a particularly descriptive or even apt term for the texts included in this particular corpus (Delcor 1989: 410–11). It is a loan word from a Greek adjective signifying “hidden [things],” reflecting the agenda of those who would prefer that they indeed be hidden away from public reading in the Christian assemblies. Occasionally, ancient texts would indeed present themselves as “hidden books.” The author of 4 Ezra, e.g., surely would class his own

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work among the 70 inspired books that were to be reserved for the “wise” among the people rather than read openly in the synagogues of the general population (4 Ezra 14:24–26, 44–48; Stuckenbruck 2012: 186–87). There is no sense, however, that the hidden books are of lesser value: they come from precisely the same fount of inspiration as the “24” that are to made public (a reference to the emerging catalog of authoritative Scripture, the books that would “defile the hands” with holiness). None of the other books of the “Apocrypha,” however, position themselves as “hidden” or otherwise esoteric. The Wisdom of Ben Sira, e.g., is translated into Greek on the assumption that it will be read profitably by anyone who “wishes to gain learning and is disposed to live according to the law” (Prologue). Second Maccabees appears to have been circulated among the Egyptian Jewish community by the Judean community in an attempt to promote the celebration of Hanukkah (2 Macc 1:1–2:18). Considered as Second Temple period writings, the title “Apocrypha” simply does not apply to the texts within this corpus in any helpful way (nor do these texts even constitute a corpus during this period). The Wisdom of Ben Sira enjoyed widespread use in the later Second Temple period and beyond. Fragments of this work have been found at Masada and in the caves near Qumran; it became internationally available thanks to the work of the author’s grandson. The work must have been widely read throughout the period to have left the imprint that it has both on the New Testament and on rabbinic texts. Many teachings that seem to be distinctive to Jesus (if the Hebrew Bible is the source for comparison) can be found in Ben Sira from the 2nd century BCE. While Jesus never recites the older sage in the manner of Scripture, and while we cannot assume that Jesus himself read a scroll of Ben Sira, at the very least we must assume that Jesus was himself instructed by those who had been exposed to this text (deSilva 2012: 58–85). The denial of Ben Sira’s status as a holy book in rabbinic writings is an indirect testimony to its authority, such that the upper limits on its authority had to be thus definitively set (t. Yad. 2.13; b. Sanh. 100b). Josephus read and valued 1 Esdras, Greek Esther, and 1 Maccabees as sources for his own historical writing, no doubt having at least the last of these in mind when he wrote that the history of his people had been written from Artaxerxes on (Ag. Ap. 1.8.39). Fragmentary manuscripts of Tobit and Letter of Jeremiah found at Qumran attest to the wider audience that these texts found during the period (since they were not composed within but still found their way into the library of, the community there). The fact that the books of Esther and Daniel continued to attract literary accretions is indirect evidence for their having been read and valued (and, along the way, “improved”) throughout the second half of this period. Second Maccabees was likely read in connection with the Feast of Dedication; it formed the basis for 4 Maccabees, itself perhaps postdating the destruction of the Second Temple, and is a witness to the reception of the earlier work. The greater terminological confusion surrounding the term “Apocrypha” itself should be mentioned in closing. The word is sometimes applied to books outside the Catholic and (most) Orthodox canons, such as 1 Enoch, Jubilees, and Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs—books that are more typically referred to as “Pseudepigrapha” (from a Greek word referring to “writings with a false attribution of authorship”; cf. e.g., Delcor 1989: 411). H. F. D. Sparks’s collection, The Apocryphal Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1984), is an example of this usage. In the early church, the word is applied not to the Jewish writings whose canonical status is disputed but to Christian writings whose origin and orthodoxy are suspect, and which are read only in certain circles within the Christian movement, e.g. the Gospel of Thomas or the Acts of Paul and Thecla 44

Apollonius Molon

(see Athanasius, Ep. 39.7, who clearly makes a distinction between books like Tobit and Ben Sira, which he does not regard as canonical yet values, and “apocryphal writings,” which he regards as books to be avoided at all costs). Despite the widespread use and valuing of many of these texts, they do not come to be enumerated among the 22 (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.38) or 24 (4 Ezra 14:45) books that constitute the core collection of Jewish Scriptures after the destruction of Jerusalem. Although it is now encountered only infrequently, one must be wary of the suggestion that the Alexandrian Jewish community included the “Apocrypha” within its canon of Scripture. This view is the result of erroneously identifying the contents of the Old Testament in the “Septuagint” of the 4th and 5th century. Christian Codices Sinaiticus and Alexandrinus with the “Septuagint” used by the Greekspeaking Jewish diaspora in the later Second Temple period, many centuries before (cf. deSilva 2018: 15–19; McDonald 2009: 113).

Bibliography M. Delcor, “The apocrypha and pseudepigrapha of the Hellenistic period,” The Cambridge History of Judaism (1989), 2:409–503. D. A. deSilva, Introducing the Apocrypha: Message, Context, and Significance, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018). D. A. deSilva, The Jewish Teachers of Jesus, James, and Jude: What Earliest Christianity Learned from the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012). D. J. Harrington, S. J., Invitation to the Apocrypha (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999). L. M. McDonald, Forgotten Scriptures: The Selection and Rejection of Early Religious Writings (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2009). L. T. Stuckenbruck, “Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha,” in Early Judaism: A Comprehensive Overview, eds. J. J. Collins and D. C. Harlow (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 179–203. DAVID A. DESILVA

Related entries: Canon and Canonical Process; Dead Sea Scrolls; Esdras, First Book of; Esdras, Second Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Fourth Book of; Masada, Texts from; Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament.”

Apollonius Molon Apollonius Molon (flor. early 1st cent. bce), also known as Molo of Rhodes, was a native of Alabanda of Caria and later taught rhetoric at Rhodes (Strabo, Geogr. 14.2.13, 26), two places that are reported to have had a substantial Jewish population (1 Macc 15:16–24). Apollonius had a number of famous disciples, including the orator T. Torquatus (Cicero, Brut. 245), Julius Caesar (Plutarch, Caes. 3.1; Suetonius, Jul. 4.1), and Cicero (Cicero, Brut. 307; Att. 2.1; Plutarch, Cic. 4.4; Quintilian, Inst. 12.6.7), and was well-known for his speaking and pleading in court. In 81 bce, Apollonius represented the city of Rhodes in Rome and had the privilege of being allowed to speak to the Roman Senate in Greek (Valerius Maximus 2.2.3). Apollonius was also a distinguished writer, although none of his work has survived in full. Most of his texts appear to have been concerned with Homeric poems and rhetorical subjects (Quintilian, Inst. 3.1.16); in addition, he was credited with some innovations in matters of figures of speech (Rhetores graeci 3.44).

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Apologetic Literature

Apollonius is best known today for his treatise on the Jewish people and the response to it by Josephus. Alexander Polyhistor (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.19) claimed that one work of Apollonius was “Against the Jews” (τὴν συσκευὴν τὴν κατὰ ᾽Ιουδαίων, tēn suskeuēn tēn kata Ioudaiōn), though it appears not to have been entirely polemical (Aubert 2015). For example, Josephus states that “unlike Apion, [Apollonius] has not grouped his accusations together, but scattered them here and there all over his work” (Ag. Ap. 2.148). Indeed, the fragment from Polyhistor shows that Apollonius’ work included a genealogy of the Jews from the flood to Moses. This text includes positive statements about Abraham and his family, material clearly taken from the biblical text (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.19), and might be the earliest extant example of a non-Jewish author mentioning Abraham. Josephus also says that Apollonius discussed the exodus from Egypt (Ag. Ap. 2.16), with Josephus contending that this account contained “unjust and untrue reports about our lawgiver Moses” (2.145). Josephus further claims that Apollonius reproached the Jews for not associating with people from other religions (2.258), for not worshipping the same god as other people (2.79), for being cowardly, misanthropic, reckless, and witless, and for being the only barbarian nation that had not made any useful contribution to culture (2.148). In response, Josephus accuses Apollonius of ignorance, ill-will (2.145, 255, 262), lying, and fabrications (2.79, 236; cf. Barclay 2007: 212, 305–8).

Bibliography J.-J. Aubert, “Apollonios Molo of Rhodes (728),” in I. Worthington, ed. Brill’s New Jacoby. Brill Online, 2015. SEAN A. ADAMS

Related entries: Diaspora; Genealogies; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of.

Apologetic Literature The label “apologetic” has been applied to some Second Temple texts in a number of senses. In the broadest sense it is used for literature that presents Jewish history or Jewish ideas in hellenized forms (e.g. Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities). In a tighter and more exact sense it applies to literature that offers a response to charges or slurs against the Jewish people. Such an apologetic response may be addressed directly to “outsiders” (critics or observers) or it may deal with threats to Jewish honor indirectly in addressing an internal, Jewish audience. Apologetics may be the primary and explicit characteristic of a text or a secondary, and perhaps implicit, element within its larger strategy. Definition and clarity in such matters is important, as scholarly debates over what counts as “apologetics” often operate at cross-purposes (Edwards, Goodman and Price 1999). Older treatments of Judaism in this period tended to regard much Jewish literature written in Greek as “apologetic,” not least texts such as the Letter of Aristeas and the Sibylline Oracles which were written under a pseudonym. Such literature was interpreted as attempting to prove the value of the Jewish tradition in Hellenistic terms, responding to critics in direct or indirect ways. However, an influential article by Tcherikover (1956) argued that most such Jewish literature was written only for a Jewish audience (whatever its literary pretense), and in recent years scholarship has shifted in its evaluation of the cultural stance of diaspora Judaism and the purposes of its literature. On the traditional reading, this literature was (at least implicitly) defensive, responding to perceived or actual criticisms of Jewish traditions, and attempting to reduce the “dissonance” between Judaism and the majority Hellenistic culture (e.g. Collins 1999). But a newer reading 46

Apostasy

of the material has found evidence of confident cultural assertion and an assured adaptation of Hellenistic literary and cultural traditions not governed by a defensive or even reactive spirit (Barclay 1996; Gruen 1998). The label “apologetic” seems ill-fitting for these forms of creative cultural hybridity. It thus seems best to apply “apologetics” only to those texts that are primarily and explicitly written in response to accusations or slanders against the Jewish people. Unfortunately, the evidence is sparse. Despite Eusebius’ description of them as “apologies” on behalf of Jews (Hist. eccl. 2.18.6; Praep. ev. 8.11.1), the passages he quotes from Philo (the Hypothetica and a fragmentary text on the Essenes) do not display this apologetic character. The one surviving text that clearly does is Josephus’ Against Apion. This contains a mixture of materials, not all apologetic in origin or tone; yet the work is framed by comments about the hostility or malice of those who misrepresent Jewish traditions (1.1–5; 2.287–296), brings forward “witnesses” to counter those who doubt Jewish antiquity (1.6–2.144), and in its most polemical section turns directly against a series of authors (Manetho, Chaeremon, Lysimachus, and Apion) who have “accused,” “slandered,” and “denigrated” Judaism. Even the encomium of the Jewish constitution (2.145–286) is introduced as “the most just form of defense” against Apollonius Molon and others (2.147; see Barclay 2007: xxx–xxxvii). It thus participates in the genre of “apology,” which was originally a legal defense speech (much practiced in schools) but later included defenses of philosophical ideas or civic communities whose honor was traduced by rivals. In terms of literary and rhetorical form, then, Against Apion contains defensive arguments that are interspersed with polemics and self-praise. The work may be placed in, or soon after, the reign of Domitian (d. 96 ce), and some of the charges to which Josephus responds correspond well with negative judgments on Jews and Judaism current in Rome at that time. The text presents itself as written for non-Jews (1.1; 2.147, 295), and its implied audience is one of generally sympathetic non-Jews who had heard negative comments about the Jews. The intended audience (those whom Josephus actually expected to read this work) is harder to deduce, though it was probably a mixture of Jews and interested non-Jews (Barclay 2007: xlv–liii). That double audience is, in fact, a common feature of “apologetic” literature, whose literary form and actual function do not always or necessarily coincide.

Bibliography M. Edwards, M. Goodman, and S. Price, Apologetics in the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). V. Tcherikover, “Jewish Apologetic Literature Reconsidered,” Eos 48 (1956): 169–93. JOHN M. G. BARCLAY

Related entries: Chaeremon of Alexandria; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Lysimachus of Alexandria; Romanization.

Apostasy Apostasy refers to the repudiation of a person or group’s central beliefs and practices. Beyond this basic definition the term’s use for identifying who is “in” or “out” of a religious community frequently depends on the respective perceiver (Barclay 1998). Josephus, for instance, was accused by Jewish compatriots of turning traitor to Rome during the First Jewish War 47

Apostasy

(J.W. 3.432–442; Life 416), but his defense in Against Apion shows him still to be committedly Jewish. The Qumran community considered itself to be God’s chosen remnant and all other Jews as betrayers of the covenant, influenced by Belial, and cut off from the sons of light to face everlasting punishment (1QS ii 4–18; CD A i 1–ii 1; 1QpHab i 11–ii 7; cf. Forkman 1972). Many Jews thought that the apostle Paul was an apostate due to his circumcision-free gospel (Acts 21:21; cf. Gal 1–6), whereas Paul himself took pride in his heritage, and succumbed to receiving lashes to remain within the Jewish community (Rom 9:3–5; 11:1; 2 Cor 11:22–4). The Matthean and Johannine communities saw themselves as obedient to God and Jewish Scripture even though they broke away from formative Judaism. These examples demonstrate that the label “apostate” is relative to the person or group using the terminology. In turn, New Testament authors, much like many Jewish writers of that time, wrestled with the question of exclusion from their respective communities, based on issues that reflected strong differences that were seen as threats to religious salvation and corporate unity (e.g. Acts 1:15–26; 1 Cor 10; 1 John 2:17–23; Heb 6:1–6; 2 Pet 2:1; Jude 4–13; cf. Oropeza 2011–2012). Nevertheless, for Jews in the Second Temple era, apostasy may be generally understood as an abandonment of Jewish ways centered in worship of the one creator God and observing regulations derived from the Torah. A constant threat to this center came by way of assimilation to Hellenistic or Roman customs and society. To serve idols, foreign deities, or participate in non-Jewish religion would be to break covenant with God, commit apostasy, and perhaps be identified as a former Jew (1 Macc 1:41–52; 2 Macc 5:8; 3 Macc 1:3; Bar. 4:12; Josephus, Ant. 12.239–241, 384–385; 18.141; J.W. 7.46–62; Philo, Praem. 148–164; 4 Esdr 1:4–6; LAB 22.5; T. Zeb. 9:5; T. Mos. 2:8–9; m. Sanh. 10:1–4; t. Sanh.13:5; cf. Stern 1994 and Wilson 2004: 23–65). Since covenant faithfulness and gentile proselytism were bound up with the act of circumcision, the reversing of circumcision and preventing one’s children from being circumcised were seen as signs of apostasy (1 Macc 1:11–15, 48; 2 Macc 6:1–10; Josephus, Ant. 12.241; Jub. 15:33–34; T. Mos. 8). Three additional Torah adherences set apart the Jewish people from wider society, and violations of these frequently stand out as apostasy. A departure from dietary regulations is one. The Seleucid king Antiochus IV Epiphanes compelled Jews to sacrifice to idols and to violate Mosaic dietary regulations by eating pork. The martyrdoms of Eleazar the scribe along with seven brothers and their mother commemorate Jewish refusal to conform to Hellenistic ways (2 Macc 6:18–7:42; 4 Macc 4:15–17:6). Faithful Jews and proselytes refused to eat non-kosher, gentile, and idol foods (Dan 1:8–16; Jdt 12:2; Jos. Asen. 10.12–14; Tob 1:10–11; Philo, Flacc. 95–96; t. Hor. 1:5). A second abandonment involved sexual purity inclusive of endogamous marriage unions (Philo, Spec. 3.29; Jub. 30:7–17; Wis 14:12; T. Levi 14:5–6). Marriage to foreigners was tantamount to apostasy as the retelling of stories from Scripture affirmed (Josephus, Ant. 8.190– 98; T. Sol. 26; LAB 30:1; 43:5), especially the wilderness generation’s liaison with Midianite women which exemplified sexual vice, idolatry, and consumption of idol foods (Josephus, Ant. 4.126–55; Philo, Mos. 1.294–304; Spec. 1.54–57; LAB 18:13–14). Third, the non-observance of Sabbath and special feasts constituted another form of forsaking Jewish law and customs (1 Macc 1:41–43; Josephus, J.W. 7.50–53; Jub. 1:7–11; 6.35). Apart from these violations, Philo maintains that youths with weak minds could be ensnared by wealth and social mobility when in a foreign land and would thus depart from their Jewish upbringing (Ios. 254; cf. Mos. 1.30–31; Praem. 162); his nephew Tiberius Julius Alexander was a prime example of this type of defection (Josephus, Ant. 20.100). The practice of various vices 48

Apuleius of Madauros

also led to, characterized, or were stereotyped as apostasy (CD A viii 1–9; CD B xix 16–21; Philo, Virt. 182; T. Jud. 19.1; T. Dan 5:4–6; Sir 10:12; Sib. Or. 2.252–286).

Bibliography J. M. G. Barclay, “Who Was Considered an Apostate in the Jewish Diaspora?” in Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity, ed. G. Stanton and G. Stroumsa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 80–98. G. Forkman, The Limits of Religious Community (Lund: Gleerup, 1972). B. J. Oropeza, Apostasy in the New Testament Communities, 3 vols. (Eugene: Cascade Books, 2011–12). S. Stern, Jewish Identity in Early Rabbinic Writings (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994). S. G. Wilson, Leaving the Fold: Apostates and Defectors in Antiquity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2004). B. J. OROPEZA

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Blasphemy; Conversion and Proselytism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Judgment; Philo of Alexandria; Revolt, First Jewish.

Apuleius of Madauros Apuleius (first half of 120s–after 164 ce) belonged to a prominent and prosperous family in the colonial town of Madauros, modern M’daourouch in Algeria. His father was a duumvir, the highest colonial officer, who bequeathed two million sesterces to Apuleius and his brother. Apuleius himself was elected to a chief priesthood in Carthage and was a member of the municipal legislative assembly (Apology 24). The only fully extant classical Latin novel, the Madauros, known to Augustine as The Golden Ass (Asinus aureus), is Apuleius’ best-known work today. It tells the story of a young man named Lucius who is enthralled with magic. The divine intervention of Isis, the tale of Cupid and Psyche (Love and Soul), and Apuleius’ reputation as a Platonic philosopher have led to many interpretations of the novel as a moral fable. Conversely, the tales of adultery, robbers, and charlatan priests found favor with the writers of Spanish picaresque novels and with Boccaccio (1313–1375) in his picaresque-like Decameron. The tale of the baker’s wife (Metam. 9.14) contains a disparaging reference to exclusive monotheism ([deum] unicum), which possibly connotes Christianity or Judaism. The Apology is Apuleius’ defense of himself against charges of practicing black magic to bewitch the rich widow Pudentilla in the coastal town of Sabrat(h)a in modern Libya in 158/159 ce. One of Apuleius’ two explicit references to Jews occurs in this work (Apol. 90) where he asserts that he is not a magician like Moses and other celebrated magicians after the time of Zoroaster and Hostanes. The Florida consists of parts of speeches that were delivered by Apuleius on ceremonial occasions. In one of these fragments (Flor. 6) he refers to the superstitious Jews (Feldman 1993: 285–87). Apuleius’ compatriot Augustine admired him as a “noble Platonic philosopher.” The major philosophical works that have been transmitted under Apuleius’ name are On the God of Socrates, On Plato and His Doctrine, and On the Universe.

Bibliography See General Bibliography GERALD SANDY 49

Aqedah

Related entries: Apologetic Literature; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Aqedah Introduction.  The term “Aqedah” designates the collective interpretative developments of Genesis 22 in Jewish tradition and is generally called “the binding of Isaac” by Jews and “the sacrifice of Isaac” by Christians. Those developments include (1) an adult, cooperative Isaac, often as an example of sacrificial martyrdom; (2) an association with Passover; (3) an association with the Jerusalem Temple Mount, Zion; (4) apocalyptic elements such as a Satan figure; and (5) a redemptive import. Reception in Second Temple Literature.  Genesis 22 itself motivated later developments. Genesis 22:6 and 8 suggest Isaac’s cooperation, while the location three days from Beersheba (21:33; 22:4, 19) and the repeated mention of “seeing” (Gen 22:4, 8, 13, 14) suggest Jerusalem, locus of divine vision (2 Sam 24:15–17; Isa 6:1–7:2; Ps 48:5, 8). Second Chronicles 3:1 will then locate Solomon’s Temple on Moriah. The Greek version of Genesis 22:5 (LXX) employs not παῖς (pais) but τὸ παιδάριον (to paidarion) for Isaac, whereas the Masoretic Text employs ‫( נער‬nʿr, “boy,” “youth”) for both Isaac and Abraham’s servants. As τὸ παιδάριον refers to young adult males in Genesis 37:30 (LXX), Joseph and Aseneth 27:2, and Tobit 6:3, the Greek presents an adult Isaac. Further, Kundert (1998: 1.66–68) and Kessler (2004: 102–3) find linguistic subtleties in Genesis 22:6–8 (LXX) that present a cooperative Isaac. 4Q225 2 ii 4 portrays satanic Mastema as instigating the Aqedah to test Isaac. Isaac instructs Abraham to tie him tightly, as in targumic texts (cf. Tg. Ps.-J. and Tg. Neof. at Gen 22:10) and in Genesis Rabbah 56.8. In 4Q225 ii 10 Isaac’s blessing finds emphasis. Finally, the Aqedah is set in a Passover context. Whether 4Q180 fragments 5–6 relate to the Aqedah is uncertain (Huizenga 2012: 85–93). In Jubilees, Mastema’s challenge precipitates the Aqedah (Jub. 17:16). The command comes the twelfth day of the first month with Abraham and Isaac traveling three days (18:3) to Mount Zion (18:13). This calendrical detail places the Aqedah at the precise time of Passover, since after the averted sacrifice, Abraham celebrates a seven-day feast (18:18–19), which is the festival of Passover/unleavened bread (cf. Lev 23:6; Num 28:17). Judith 8:26 suggests that Isaac cooperated in the Aqedah, as the character Judith reminds the elders of Bethulia of Isaac’s example under testing (καὶ ὅσα ἐπείπασεν τὸν Ισαακ, kai hosa epeipasen ton Isaak). Philo’s treatment of Isaac is largely lost. His work On Isaac is not extant nor are those parts of Questions on Genesis that would have treated Isaac’s birth and sacrifice, probably because Christians preserving Philo’s works found similarities to Jesus threatening the Christian savior’s uniqueness. In extant texts Philo presents Isaac as a truly begotten son of God (υἱὸς θεοῦ, huios theou; cf. Mut. 131; Det. 124; Somn. 1.173; Leg. 3.219). In On the Life of Abraham Philo suggests that Isaac cooperated in the sacrifice, as father and son “walked with equal speed of mind ... and came to the appointed place” (172). In On the Sacrifices of

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Cain and Abel 110 Philo puts forth Isaac as a paradigm for whole burnt offerings, implying an association with the Temple. Whether written in the 1st century ce or later, Pseudo-Philo’s Liber antiquitatum biblicarum (LAB) reflects Second Temple traditions. In LAB 18:5, in the context of Balaam’s encounter with God, Isaac is presented as cooperative; he does not object to the sacrificial command, and his blood secures election. In relation to Deborah’s song, LAB 32:3 has Isaac consent explicitly to the sacrifice, as he anticipates eternal life and declares that his blessedness will be unsurpassed. According to LAB 40:1–3, the cooperative Isaac is presented as precursor and paradigm for the sacrifice of Seila, Jephthah’s daughter: “[Isaac] did not dispute [Abraham] but gladly gave consent to him and the one being offered was ready” (40:2). Fourth Maccabees likewise reflects Second Temple traditions, presenting Isaac as the paradigm of martyrdom upon whose example the Maccabean martyrs drew for endurance. Eleazar routed the rack “by reason like that of Isaac” (4 Macc 7:13–14). Similarly, the mother reminds the brothers that Isaac “did not flinch” when his father’s knife fell down against him (4 Macc 16:20). The text also suggests Isaac actually perished. The brothers say, “Remember … at the hand of what father Isaac gave himself to be sacrificed (σφαγιασθῆναι … ὑπέμεινεν Ισαακ, sphagiasthēnai … hupemeinen Isaak) for piety’s sake” (4 Macc 13:12). The indicative ὑπέμεινεν (hupemeinen) is associated in 4 Maccabees and other literature with endurance unto actual death. Further, in 4 Maccabees 18:11 the mother speaks of Isaac as having been “offered as a burnt offering” (τὸν ὁλοκαρπούμενον Ισαακ, ton holokarpoumenon Isaak; cf. Huizenga 2012: 104–23 on LAB and 4 Maccabees). Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities 1.222–136 presents the Aqedah as a test of Abraham’s piety (1.223) on Mount Moriah (1.224), the later location of the Temple (1.226). The 25-year-old Isaac constructs the altar himself (1.227). Abraham informs Isaac that he is the sacrifice, adjuring him to “bear ... this consecration valiantly” (1.229), for such a momentous death fits his extraordinary birth (1.230–231). Isaac consents with joy and casts himself upon the altar (1.232). Conclusion.  The reception of the Aqedah in Genesis 22 during the Second Temple period reflects a concern with a number of recurring issues. In varying interpretations regarding the specific roles of God, Abraham, and Isaac in the scene, authors adapted the story to deal with their respective theological and socioreligious contexts in mind. This interpretive latitude carried over into early Christian tradition (Kessler 2004) and may already lie behind some passages in the New Testament (cf. Swetnam 1981; Huizenga 2012: 153–262).

Bibliography L. A. Huizenga, The New Isaac: Tradition and Intertextuality in the Gospel of Matthew, NovTSup 131 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). L. Kundert, Die Opferung/Bindung Isaaks, WMANT 78–79, 2 vols. (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1998). J. Swetnam, Jesus and Isaac: A Study of the Epistle of Hebrews in the Light of the Aqedah, AnBib 94 (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1981). LEROY A. HUIZENGA

Related entries: Festivals and Holy Days; Genesis, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Judith, Book of; Maccabees, Fourth Book of; Philo of Alexandria; Sacrifices and Offerings; Satan and Related Figures.

51

Aqueducts

Aqueducts Aqueducts were covered water channels that transported water from sources, like springs and aquifers, over a distance to a settled population. They served the fresh water needs of ancient communities like cities, palaces, fortresses, and farms, transporting water from springs to the community for its daily water needs. Aqueducts used gravity to transfer water from its source at a higher elevation to a lower elevation. To cross valleys and mountains, arched bridges and tunnels were constructed. Aqueducts were initially channels dug into the ground to convey water. An example of this type is evident at Khirbet Qumran (see Figure 4.6). They evolved into channels constructed of hewn or built field stone, sealed with waterproof plaster, and covered with flat stone slabs that kept the water from becoming polluted (Tsuk 1997). In some aqueducts, pits were dug to allow the sediment in the water to settle. The water channels of the aqueduct were cut in a rectangular shape, although some narrowed at the bottom forming a trapezoid. The size of the channel was proportionate to the volume of water the channel conveyed. Beginning in the Hellenistic period, an inverted siphon was used to transport water in deep valleys. It consisted of a lead or clay pipe that could be closed off. This enabled water to be carried to cities set on hills because water in a pipe will always rise to its original height. The desert fortresses of Sartaba and Hyrkania both used inverted siphons to transport water to pits along the slopes of the hilltop fortresses, as did the Hasmonean palaces in Jericho as they drew water from the springs of Wadi Qelt (Tsuk 1997). The cities of Susita and Jerusalem used inverted siphons constructed of stone links in the Roman period.

Figure 4.6  The aqueduct through which water was supplied to the settlement at Qumran.

52

Aqueducts

The most important aqueducts in the land of Israel during the Roman period were at Caesarea Maritima and Jerusalem (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). Herod the Great’s city of Caesarea along the Mediterranean coast did not have a local water supply, so the main source of water came from springs located on the southern slopes of Mount Carmel, about 5.4 km northeast of the city. The upper aqueduct, which rests upon impressive arches, was constructed either by Herod the Great (Netzer 2006: 102) or by his successors (Porath 2002). The aqueduct terminated in a castellum on the north end of the city, and from this point the water was conveyed throughout the city via ceramic and lead pipes as well as covered channels. During the reign of Hadrian a second aqueduct was constructed up against the eastern side of the earlier one, bringing more water into Caesarea Maritima to accommodate the influx of Roman troops stationed there after the Bar Kokhba revolt (Netzer 2006: 102; see Figure 4.7). Jerusalem had two aqueducts, a “low-level” aqueduct dating to the Second Temple period and a “high-level” aqueduct usually dated to Aelia Capitolina, although some attribute its construction to Herod to supply water to his palace and the Upper City (Geva 1993: 746–47). The water source of the high-level aqueduct was Solomon’s Pools, approximately 10 km south of Jerusalem. It traversed a shorter route to the city than the low-level aqueduct and entered the city from the west, near the area of the present-day Jaffa Gate. The low-level aqueduct originated at the lowest of the three Solomon’s Pools. Its course wound over the topography for more than 24 km. The gradient of the aqueduct was moderate, enabling the water to overcome the elevation differential of 30 m between its point of origin to its final destination at the Temple Mount, where it crossed the Tyropean Valley via Wilson’s Arch and deposited its water to the system of cisterns on the

Figure 4.7  Aqueduct at Caesarea Maritima, eastern side, looking north. Inset: Interior of aqueduct arches from Emperor Hadrian (left) alongside earlier aqueduct associated with Herod the Great (right).

53

Arabian Peninsula

southern Temple Mount. Josephus mentions that the Roman prefect Pontius Pilate confiscated Jerusalem Temple funds to construct or repair the Jerusalem aqueduct (Ant. 18.60). It is unclear whether the low-level aqueduct was constructed by Herod or earlier in the Hasmonean period. The low-level aqueduct remained in use with alterations and repairs until the Ottoman period.

Bibliography H. Geva, “Jerusalem: The Second Temple Period,” NEAEHL (1993), 2:698–804. Y. Porath, “The Water-Supply to Caesarea, a Re-assessment,” in The Aqueducts of Israel, ed. D. Amit, J. Patrich, and Y. Hirschfeld, JRASup 46 (Portsmouth: David Brown Book Company, 2002), 104–29. T. Tsuk, “Aqueducts,” OEANE (1997) 1:157–58. MARC TURNAGE

Related entries: Agriculture; Architecture; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, Second Jewish.

Arabian Peninsula The term “Arabia” in premodern times referred to parts or all of the Arabian Peninsula and the desert regions of modern Syria and Iraq. The Arabian Peninsula consists of a tectonic plate that impinges in its northern end against the Eurasian land mass roughly around the area usually known as the Fertile Crescent. It is bounded by the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea on the east and the Red Sea on the west, but since there are no permanent watercourses, there are only a few natural harbors on any of its coasts. The ancient geographers referred to most of Arabia as having natura maligna because of its harsh desert climate, but the southern mountainous area was known as Arabia Felix (cf. Diodorus Siculus, Bib. hist. 2.49, 54; Josephus, Ant. 1.239: εὐδαίμονος Ἀραβίας, eudaimonos Arabias) because of its relatively greater rainfall and its crop of frankincense and myrrh, the most desired Arabian trade goods from the 7th century bce to the 2nd century ce. By the beginning of the turn of the Common Era, international trade from Africa and from the Indian Ocean had mostly moved inland along a trade route that extended from the area of the Yemen up the western side of the peninsula through the Hijaz into the settled areas of the East Mediterranean (Newby 1988: 10–11, 75–77). Lucrative trade and strategic concerns made the control of Arabia a desideratum of the Roman Empire. However, the failure of the Roman general Aelius Gallus to conquer northern Arabia ca. 26 bce strengthened the Nabataeans and other Arabs, and the Romans became content to control Arab incursion into the empire by means of the fortified but semipermeable frontier (Limes Arabicus) that extended from the Gulf of Aqaba about 930 miles to northern Syria. In addition, the emperor Trajan built the Via Nova Traiana from Bosra to Aila for more efficient troop movement and to aid commerce. More importantly, the Romans began to employ Arabs as camel cavalry against marauding Bedouin tribes and against the troops of the Persian Empire. As coins struck between 58 and 54 bce show, the development of the “North Arabian camel saddle” around the turn of the Common Era enabled the use of the Arabian camel (camelus dromedarius) as a cavalry animal. This led to the Bedouinization of Northern Arabia during the first centuries of the Common Era as a greater number of Arabians who were involved in raising

54

Arabian Peninsula

camels participated as mounted warriors in the conflicts between Rome and Persia. Many Arabian Jews, Christians, and polytheists were Bedouinized, at least for part of their lives, and most major Arabian tribes had Jewish and Christian clans, with urban and Bedouin tribes closely aligned (Bulliet 1975: 87–105; Shahid 1984). As with northern Arabia, southern Arabia was the locus of conflict between surrogates for the Persian and the Roman Empires, with armed Christian and Jewish missionaries fighting for control of the southern end of the Arabian Peninsula as far north as the Hijaz (Shahid 1984). While Jews and Nestorian Christians mainly supported the Persian Empire during the 5th century, Orthodox and Coptic Christians supported the Roman/Byzantine Empire. Earlier, following the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in 70 ce, a number of priestly families fled to Arabia to form Levitical pure communities in the hope of restoring the Jerusalem Temple (Newby 1988: 30–32). Arabian traditions report that the Jewish communities in Medina claimed descent from Temple priests and the high status that went with it (Mazuz 2014). This intense involvement of the Arabian population in the conflicts between the Persians and the Romans meant that the varieties of Christianities and Judaisms were perceived to be linked to the designs of one power or the other to control Arabia. This phenomenon paved the way for the rise of Islam as a religion beyond denominations and for the Arabs (Lecker 1995). Little is known about indigenous Arabian polytheism, since most of what has been preserved has come down through secular poems and anti-polytheistic diatribes in the Qur’an and later Islamic writings. Both external Jewish sources and internal Arabian evidence furnish more information about Arabian Judaism, especially after the 3rd century ce. Its representatives were “rabbinic” and in touch with the main Jewish communities in Syria and Babylonia, but were also connected to Jews in Abyssinia, and their practices differed from the burgeoning talmudic communities (cf. Mazuz 2014 and 2015). The Christian communities, mentioned above, had a long-standing tradition in Arabia, as shown by the apostle Paul’s three-year sojourn in Arabia (Newby 1988: 32; Hengel and Schwemer 1997). While there is evidence of Arabs using the Qumran caves as depositories, the beliefs of the Qumran community seem to have had no significant impact on the religious life of the Arabs (Newby 2000a: 45–46). What Josephus calls “Arabia” figures in both his retelling of Jewish history (e.g. Ant. 2.213, Abraham bequeathed Arabia to Ishmael; cf. the association of Hagar and Mount Sinai with Arabia in Gal 4:24–25) and in his frequent reference to individual Nabataean rulers such as Aretas, Malchus, and Obodas as “king of Arabia” (cf. e.g., J.W. 1.487; Ant. 8.179; 13.382, 391; 14.14–15, 122, 370; 15.107). Accordingly, those associated with Ishmael’s lineage and those under Nabataean rule are termed “Arabians” (e.g. Ant. 1.214; 4.82), the latter possessing Arce (renamed “Petra” when hellenized), an equivocation already known to Diodorus Siculus (1st cent. bce) when commenting on the military activities of Antigonus in the Diadoch wars during the late 4th century bce (Diodorus Siculus, Bib. hist. 19.94; cf. Bowersock 1983: 13).

Bibliography G. W. Bowersock, Roman Arabia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983). R. W. Bulliet, The Camel and the Wheel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975).

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Arabic

C. W. Caskell, “The Bedouinization of Arabia,” in Studies in Islamic Cultural History, ed. G. von Grunebaum (Menosha: American Anthropological Association, 1954), 36–46. M. Lecker, Muslims, Jews & Pagans: Studies on Early Islamic Medina (Leiden: Brill, 1995). H. Mazuz, The Religious and Spiritual Life of the Jews of Medina (Leiden: Brill, 2014). H. Mazuz, “Northern Arabia and its Jewry in Early Rabbinic Sources: More Than Meets the Eye,” Antiguo Oriente (Buenos Aires: Pontificia Universidad Catolica Argentina, 2015), 13:149–67. G. D. Newby, “Observations about an Early Judaeo-Arabic,” JQR 61.3 (1971): 212–21. G. D. Newby, A History of the Jews of Arabia (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1988). I. Shahid, Rome and the Arabs: A Prolegomenon to the Study of Byzantium and the Arabs (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks, 1984). GORDON D. NEWBY

Related entries: Diadochi; Diaspora; Josephus, Writings of; Nabatea.

Arabic Due to the successful Islamic conquests from the 8th century ce onwards, Arabic became the third most important language in the Mediterranean next to Greek and Latin. Many books that reflected the cultural heritage and had hitherto been transmitted in Greek, Syriac, or Coptic were translated into Arabic from the 9th to 12th centuries. Arabic became so widespread that both Christians and Jews not only used the new lingua franca but were often active in the translation process itself (Vollandt 2015). The kind of Arabic in use was not the classical language known from the Qurʾan, but Middle Arabic, which is similar to modern vernaculars. Most of the Arabic versions of books originally composed during the Second Temple period are free translations of a Greek Vorlage, either directly so or through intermediaries (Coptic or Syriac). An example of translation from Greek is apparent in the Arabic version of Ben Sira, which was translated from the Lucianic recension of the Septuagint. Its earliest Arabic textual witness, MS Sinai Ar. 155 (see Figure 4.8), dates to the 9th century ce (Samaan 1994). Sometimes there are widely differing Arabic versions that derived from the same Vorlage. Arabic versions of the Book of Esther, for instance, were made from a Syriac Vorlage, but they sometimes reflect secondary influence from the Hebrew text tradition. Similar circumstances apply to the Book of Judith (Graf 1944: 113): one version was translated from the Septuagint, but further translations or manuscripts respectively are either revisions of that translation or independent (and therefore different) renderings of the same. There are no known Arabic versions for compositions such as 1 Enoch and Jubilees. Likewise, Arabic has no version of 1–2 Maccabees; however, there does exist a compendium of the history of the Jews, from Adam to 70 ce, that draws on both Josephus and 1–2 Maccabees. It was originally composed in Hebrew in the 9th century ce. The extended title of this Arabic version is called “Book of the Hebrews, which is called the Book of the Maccabees, attributed to Yusibbus, who is also called Josef ben Gurion” (Dönitz 2013: 103–9). A late Arabic version of 2 Maccabees, also called “5 Maccabees,” is included in the Paris and London Polyglots (Graf 1944: 223). In addition to 1–2 Maccabees, this text seems to be influenced by the Arabic “Yusibbus” and the Hebrew “Yosippon.”

56

Arabic

Figure 4.8  MS Sinai Ar. 155, Sirach 1:27–2:9 (9th cent.).

The “Proverbs of Ahiqar,” originally composed in Aramaic, has been translated into many languages, and there are three recensions of the Arabic version (Haelewyck 1998: 152; Nier 2007: 26). The “Testament of Abraham,” composed in Greek sometime between the 1st century bce and the 2nd century ce, has been translated into Coptic, and from there into Arabic and Ethiopic (Heide 2012). Another noteworthy composition of the late Second Temple period, the work entitled Lives of the Prophets, has been transmitted in several Arabic versions (Schwemer 1997: 547). 57

Aramaic

Despite the significance of Arabic as a language for transmitting and preserving early Jewish writings and those related to the Hebrew Bible, the study of the production of these text editions is still in its infancy.

Bibliography S. Dönitz, Überlieferung und Rezeption des Sefer Yosippon: TSMEMJ 29 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). G. Graf, Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literatur. Erster Band: Die Übersetzungen: Studi e Testi 118 (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1944). M. Heide, Das Testament Abrahams. Edition und Übersetzung der arabischen und äthiopischen Versionen: AethFor 76 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2012). H. Nier, Aramäischer Aḥiqar: JSHRZ, NF 2/2 (Gütersloh: Verlagshaus, 2007). K. W. Samaan, Sept traductions arabes de Ben Sira (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1994). R. Vollandt, Arabic Versions of the Pentateuch. A comparative study of Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Sources, Biblia Arabica 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2015). MARTIN HEIDE

Related entries: Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Multilingualism.

Aramaic Aramaic has been written and spoken continuously for over 3,000 years. The gentilic “Aramean” appears for the first time in cuneiform sources during the reign of Tiglath Pileser I (1115–1077 bce). The oldest inscriptions in Aramaic date to the beginning of the first millennium bce and were unearthed in northern Syria-Palestine and Upper Mesopotamia. In the Neo-Assyrian (911– 612 bce) and Neo-Babylonian (626–539 bce) Empires, the use of Aramaic spread and was on its way to becoming the lingua franca of the Ancient Near East. It replaced Akkadian as the international language when the Persian Achaemenid Empire under Cyrus the Great adopted Aramaic for purposes of administration and communication. Many different classificatory schemes of the Aramaic dialects have been suggested by scholars (cf. Gzella 2015: 1–52). For much of the last century, two figured more prominently than others: the first divided the long history of Aramaic into Old, Middle, and Modern Aramaic; the second (Rosenthal 1939) separated Aramaic into Old (Altaramäisch), Young (Jungaramäisch), and Eastern (Ostaramäisch) Aramaic. With the discovery and publication of more inscriptional and manuscript material (esp. Dead Sea Scrolls), a five-stage chronological periodization was proposed by Fitzmyer, first in 1966, and then more fully in 1979, and since then has been widely adopted by scholars: Old Aramaic (925–700 bce), Official (700–200 bce), Middle Aramaic (200 bce–200 ce), Late Aramaic (200–700 ce), and Modern Aramaic (700 ce–). Old Aramaic is known from inscriptions found in Syria-Palestine and Upper Mesopotamia. Official Aramaic is the standardized written language used by the Persian Empire, hence it is also known as Standard or Imperial Aramaic (Reichsaramäisch). Late Aramaic is divided into three eastern dialects (Jewish Babylonian, Mandaic, Syriac [which also exhibits western features]) and three western dialects (Jewish Palestinian [= Galilean], Christian Palestinian [= Palestinian Syriac], Samaritan). It is during this period that one sees a consistent difference between eastern and western dialects: the definite article -āˀ still determines in the west but has lost its function in the east; 58

Aramaic

the masculine plural determined suffix is –ayyāˀ in the west as opposed to the suffix –ē, which functions as a determined and undetermined suffix in the east; the 3rd person masculine singular imperfect prefix is y- in the west unlike l- in the east; the word order is subject-verb in the west as against free word order in the east. Aramaists have long debated when this split between western and eastern dialects first arose. Today it is agreed that there are signs of it in the preceding Middle Aramaic period, and some have argued that the division is discernible already in Official Aramaic, if not earlier in Old Aramaic. The Aramaic of the Second Temple period belongs to the Official and Middle Aramaic periods. Official Aramaic is attested in the Bible in Genesis 31:47 (‫שהֲדותָ א‬ ָ ‫יְגַר‬, yegar śehadūtah = Hebrew ‫גַּ ְלעֵד‬, galʿēd, “witness heap”), Jeremiah 10:11, Daniel 2:4b–7:28, and Ezra 4:8–6:8, 7:12–26 (cf. Hurvitz 2003). The passages from Ezra are assigned to the 5th century bce while that from Daniel is dated to the 3rd century. The Biblical Aramaic portions provide the only graphic evidence for the pronunciation of the vowels during the Official Aramaic period (unless one assigns the Uruk incantation written in cuneiform to this period and not to the Middle Aramaic period), albeit the vocalization system of the biblical text is more than a thousand years younger than the consonantal text (cf., e.g., analysis under the headings “wider perspective” in Folmer 1995). Kutscher (1977) believed that two features demonstrate that Biblical Aramaic is of eastern origin: the free word order in Biblical Aramaic and the almost complete absence of the direct object marker ‫( י ָת‬yāt). Official Aramaic is attested also in documents from 5th-century Egypt, most of which come from the island of Elephantine located near the first cataract of the Nile River at the southern border of Egypt, though documents have also shown up at Hermopolis and Saqqara. The Egyptian Aramaic corpus consists of letters, contracts, accounts, lists, a literary text (Words of Aḥiqar), and assorted inscriptions and ostraca. Additional epigraphic material comes from Asia Minor, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Syria-Palestine, Iran, Iraq, and the Arabian Peninsula. Several different Aramaic corpora are attested in the Middle Aramaic period (cf. Beyer 1984, 2004): the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls (e.g. the Genesis Apocryphon); Judean Desert legal documents; letters (e.g. Bar Kokhba) and weights; Edessan (early Syriac), Hatran, Nabatean, and Palmyrene inscriptions; the Aramaic words in the New Testament and the works of Josephus; Aramaic ideograms in Persian dialects; and probably the origins of Targum Onqelos to the Pentateuch and Targum Jonathan to the Former Prophets. It has been argued (Greenfield 2001) that much of the Aramaic from the Second Temple period (Biblical Aramaic, the Aramaic of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Targums Onqelos and Jonathan) is written in a “Standard Literary Aramaic”; the term “Jewish Standard Literary Aramaic” has also been proposed. Some scholars have thought that Aramaic influenced archaic biblical poetry, but it is only during the Second Temple period that such an influence clearly manifests itself. Syntactic, lexical, and stylistic Aramaisms can be found in Late Biblical Hebrew texts composed during the Second Temple period (Ezra, Nehemiah, Daniel, 1 and 2 Chronicles), Ben Sira, the Hebrew Dead Sea Scrolls, Hebrew legal documents and letters from the Judean Desert, and Tannaitic Hebrew sources (the Mishna, Tosefta, halakic midrashim).

Bibliography K. Beyer, Die aramäischen Texte vom Toten Meer (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984); Band 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004). J. A. Fitzmyer, “Phases of the Aramaic Language,” in A Wandering Aramean: Collected Aramaic Essays, ed. J. A. Fitzmyer (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979), 57–84. 59

Ararat, Mount

M. L. Folmer, The Aramaic Language in the Achaemenid Period: A Study in Linguistic Variation, OLA 68 (Leuven: Peeters, 1995). J. C. Greenfield, ͑Al Kanfei Yonah: Collected Studies of Jonas C. Greenfield on Semitic Philology, ed. S. M. Paul, J. C. Greenfield, and M. E. Stone (Jerusalem/Leiden: Magnes/Brill, 2001). H. Gzella, A Cultural History of Aramaic: From the Beginnings to the Advent of Islam, HdO 111 (Leiden: Brill, 2015). A. Hurvitz, “Hebrew and Aramaic in the Biblical Period: The Problem of ‘Aramaisms’ in Linguistic Research on the Hebrew Bible,” in Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology, ed. I. Young (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 24–37. E. Y. Kutscher, Hebrew and Aramaic Studies, ‫( מחקרים בעברית ובארמית‬Jerusalem: Magnes, 1977). F. Rosenthal, Die aramaistische Forschung seit Th. Nöldeke’s Veröffentlichungen (Leiden: Brill, 1939). STEVEN E. FASSBERG

Related entries: Bar Kokhba Letters; Daniel, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Targumim.

Ararat, Mount As a region, mountain range, or individual mountain peak, Ararat functioned as an important site in Second Temple Jewish theological geography and primeval historiography (see Map 2: Alexander the Great [ca. 334–323 bce]). Ararat is primarily relevant for considering the figure of Noah in the period, especially insofar as the events there were thought to anticipate the covenant at Sinai and the allotment of land to Israel. In Genesis, Noah’s ark had come to rest “on the mountains of Ararat” (8:4). The identification of the land of Ararat in the Hebrew Bible with ancient Urartu (Akk. Urarṭu) is clear. In the Second Temple period the rather indeterminate location recorded in Genesis gained greater specificity. Reflecting the political geography of the time, Jews frequently identified this region with Armenia (see LXX Isa 37:38; also LXX 2 Kgdms 19:37; LXX Jer 51:27; Tob 1:21). With even more specificity, the Aramaic Genesis Apocryphon (1QapGen) speaks of “one of the mountains of Ararat (‫הוררט‬, hūrrṭ ; x 12; xii 8), naming the site in two places “Mount Ararat” (xvii 9, 14; cf. Sib. Or. 1.262) and “Lubar” in another (xii 16; Machiela 2009: 123–24, 128–29). The latter designation appears in several other Dead Sea documents and also in Jubilees 5:28 as a peak in the Ararat mountain range (cf. Steiner 1991: 248). For his part Josephus (Ant. 1.92) reports Armenian traditions about the mountain that gave refuge from the flood as apobatērion (ἀποβατήριον, “place of descent”). He also cites traditions from Berossus, who refers to the mountain in Armenia as the “mountain of the Cordyaeans,” and Nicolaus of Damascus, who calls it Baris (Stone 2010: 309–10). Second Temple traditions expand the significance of the site in the Hebrew Bible, in particular through the actions of Noah. In both 1QapGen x 13–17 and Jubilees 6:2–4 Noah acts as a priest, atoning for the world’s sins and offering sacrifice in accord with priestly law. Jubilees 6:10–22 links the Noahide covenant to Israel’s covenant. In 1QapGen xi 9–12 Ararat is high enough to allow Noah to survey the earth, in Abrahamic fashion (Gen 13:14–15). The Sibylline Oracles 1 likewise attributes a great height to Ararat in harmony with its significance as the place where all are delivered from death (1.261–265). These details grow from the tradition in Genesis 8:4–5, in which the mountain indeed seems taller than other peaks, which only subsequently became visible. Ararat also figures into Noah’s division of the earth in 1QapGen xvii 7–15 and Jubilees 8:17– 21. In this allotment, both texts specify that Ararat belongs to the line of Shem, from whom Abraham and Israel descend. Jubilees makes the importance of this land yet more explicit by speaking of the blessed and special character of Shem’s portion. The peak Lubar in the Ararat 60

ʿAraq el-Amir

range is probably identical to the “mountain of the east” in the list of “four places on earth that belong to the Lord” (Jub. 4:26), which also includes Eden, Sinai, and Zion. Given the obvious holiness of this site in Ararat, then, it is appropriate that Lubar is also claimed to be the location of Noah’s burial, a place he seems never to have left (Jub. 10:15).

Bibliography R. Steiner, “The Mountains of Ararat, Mt. Lubar, and ‫הר הקדם‬,” JJS 42.2 (1991): 247–49. M. E. Stone, “Mount Ararat and the Ark,” Noah and His Book(s) (2010), 307–16. ANDREW GEIST

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Genesis Apocryphon; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of.

ʿAraq el-Amir Located 17 km west-southwest of Amman (Philadelphia), this modern village surrounds or sits upon important archaeological remains (see Map 6: Maccabean Revolt [167–160 bce]). ʿAraq el-Amir (Arabic “Caves/Cliffs of the Prince”) witnessed intermittent occupation from the Early Bronze through Ottoman periods (Rosenberg 2006; Étienne and Salles 2010). It is most famous as the residence of Hyrcanus, wealthy and influential scion of the Tobiad dynasty, who sought refuge in Transjordan during the first quarter of the 2nd century bce (cf. 2 Macc 3:11). This family’s notoriety reaches back to the 5th century bce (and beyond), when “Tobiah the servant, the Ammonite” opposed Nehemiah (Neh 2:10, 19; 4:3, 7) (Mazar 1957; Ji 1998). ʿAraq el-Amir sits above the west bank of Wadi es-Sir, a canyon that descends from the Ammonite plateau to the Jordan Valley. Winter runoff and copious springs have turned this valley into a rich agricultural zone. An ancient route that connected Transjordan’s highlands and Judea traversed this wadi system and passed ʿAraq el-Amir, known in antiquity as Tyros of the Tobiads—a place-name in Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities (12.233). Evidence for this identification is noteworthy. Beginning with Irby and Mangles, in 1818, ʿAraq el-Amir has intrigued early travelers and later generations of scholars. A member of the Irby and Mangles expedition, William John Bankes, matched what he saw at ʿAraq el-Amir with his knowledge of Josephus’ narrative about Hyrcanus’ building activities at Tyros (Ant. 12.160– 236). Though problems remain, details of Josephus’ “Tobiad romance” hold up well in the critical study of historical sources and archaeological data recovered at this site. This is especially the case with regard to (a) Hyrcanus’ palace (Qasr el-ʿAbd = Arabic for “Castle of the Servant”; see Figure 4.9); (b) other structures and gardens; (c) the caves; (d) the region’s water resources; and (e) the description of Tyros’ location. Qasr el-ʿAbd was excavated, planned, and restored by several major projects (Lapp 1983; Will and Larché 1991; Larché 2005; Borel 2006; cf. Netzer 1999). Epigraphic evidence confirms the identification between ancient Tyros and ʿAraq el-Amir. High cliffs to the north of this site contain natural and manmade caves. The name “Tobiah” is engraved, in Aramaic, beside the carved entrances to two caves—perhaps epitaphs on tombs. On paleographic grounds, a modern consensus dates these inscriptions to the late 4th or early 3rd century bce. This could indicate that the Tobiads were present in this vicinity a century before Hyrcanus took up residence. The Zenon Papyri, which date to the middle of the 3rd century bce, describe the importance of the Tobiad family in Transjordan, but the identification of 61

Arch of Titus

Figure 4.9  Hyrcanus’ palace (Qasr el-ʿAbd).

“Birta of the Ammanitis” (P. Cairo Zen. 1 59003) with ʿAraq el-Amir remains uncertain. The association between ʿAraq el-Amir and Ramath-Mizpeh (Josh 13:26), suggested by some, remains conjectural.

Bibliography L. Borel, “Recherches récentes sur le domaine d’’Iraq al-Amir: nouveaux éléments sur le paysage construit,” Topoi 14 (2006): 291–330. R. Étienne and J.-F. Salles, ʿIraq al-Amir: Guide Historique et Archéologique du Domaine des Tobiades (Beirut: Institut Français du Proche-Orient, 2010). N. L. Lapp, The Excavations at Araq el-Emir, vol. 1. (Cambridge: ASOR, 1983). F. Larché, ʿIraq al-Amir. Le château du Tobiade Hyrcan, vol. 2 (Beirut: Institut Français du Proche-Orient, 2005). E. Netzer, “Floating in the Desert: A Pleasure Palace in Jordan,” Archaeology Odyssey 2.1 (1999): 46–55. E. Will and F. Larché, ʿIraq al Amir: Le château du Tobiade Hyrcan, vol. 1 (Paris: P. Geuthner, 1991). GERALD L. MATTINGLY

Related entries: Hyrcanus I, John; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, Maccabean.

Arch of Titus The Arch of Titus, on Rome’s Via Sacra (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region), was built ca. 81 ce by the emperor Domitian to commemorate the victories of his brother Titus in the Jewish War of 66–74 ce, Titus’ brief rule as emperor (79–81 ce), and his apotheosis at death in 81 ce. The monument, 15.4 m high and 13.5 m wide, is composed of a large single arch and a large attic. At the center of the attic, on the eastern face, is a well-preserved monumental dedicatory inscription in Latin: “The Senate and the people of Rome, [dedicate this] to the divine

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Titus Augustus son of the divine Vespasian.” Below the attic is a narrow frieze, representing aspects of Titus’ triumphal parade in 70 ce. The interior of the arch is 4.75 m deep. At its pinnacle is a relief showing Titus on the back of an eagle, a representation of his apotheosis. To either side are two well-preserved narrative bas relief panels. To the right is a representation of Titus riding his chariot and his entourage in the triumphal parade. Nike, goddess of victory, crowns Titus with a wreath. To the left is a panel showing the spoils of the Jerusalem Temple. The spoils panel shows a group of Roman soldiers and dignitaries conveying treasures of the Jerusalem Temple into Rome through a large triumphal arch decorated with a representation of Nike and topped with two quadriga (see Figure 4.10). The bas relief deepens from right to left, enhancing the sense of movement as the entourage proceeds. First in the procession is the table of showbread, two horns crossed and resting on it. After that is a lampstand with seven arched branches, a menorah. Its base is eight-sided and has two levels, decorated with eagles and mythological creatures. It is unclear whether this is the original base of the menorah, or perhaps a ferculum, a carrying platform. Marchers carry three evenly spaced signs set on poles. While their messages are not preserved, it is likely that the first identifies the table, the second the menorah, and the third a biblical scroll, which Josephus describes as the third major relic in the procession—which is not represented in the reliefs. Titus’ triumphal procession is described in detail by Josephus (J.W. 7.131–163). This unique portrayal corresponds quite closely with that portrayed in the arch a decade after the event.

Figure 4.10  The spoils of the Jerusalem Temple, Bas Relief, Arch of Titus, Rome, ca. 81 ce.

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According to Josephus, the menorah and table were placed on display nearby in Vespasian’s temple of Peace. The lampstand and its base were originally colored with yellow ochre pigment. Remains of this polychromy were discovered by a Yeshiva University team in a preliminary investigation in 2012. The reliefs were likely fully polychrome: the table was likely painted yellow, perhaps the horns gray to represent silver (as described by Josephus), and the menorah bearers and other officiants in traditional colors as well. The original arch has undergone several reconstructions. It was restored first under Napoleon, work that was completed under Pope Pius VII in 1821, who added his own dedicatory inscription to the western side of the attic.

Bibliography S. Fine, “Menorahs in Color: Polychromy in Jewish Visual Culture of Roman Antiquity,” IMAGES 6.1 (2012): 3–25. W. Knight, The Arch of Titus and the Spoils of the Temple (London: Religious Tract Society, 1896). M. Pfanner, Der Titusbogen (Mainz am Rhein: P. v. Zabern, 1983). H. Piening, “Examination Report: The Polychromy of the Arch of Titus Menorah Relief,” IMAGES 6.1 (2012): 26–29. STEVEN FINE

Related entries: Inscriptions; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals.

Archaeology (Recent Trends) By the final third of the 20th century, archaeologists working in the ancient Mediterranean basin had adopted a fully scientific approach to their discipline. The approach was in line with processual archaeology, which is marked by a commitment to the empirical method and an embrace of descriptive analysis. For those interested in the material culture of the Second Temple period, that meant a reframing of the enterprise of traditional biblical archaeology. Hebrew Scripture and other sacred texts were approached far more critically and given less prominence in reconstructions of the region’s history. Modes of formal analysis became predominant, resulting in data-heavy site stratigraphies and artifact typologies that can often be inaccessible to non-archaeologists. For the Persian era, archaeology has demonstrated that Judea and Samaria were impoverished territories in the wake of the Babylonian wars (Stern 2007: 422–43). The Persian stratum of Jerusalem, e.g., has yielded so little and in such a small area that demographic estimates have crept down to a number of around 1,000 total inhabitants in the city in the late 6th and 5th centuries bce (Geva 2014: 141–43). Yet both Jerusalem and its northern Yahwistic counterpart at Mount Gerizim—the holy city for the province of Samaria—were likely staffed with priesthoods sufficient in size to support the institutional life necessary for the kind of textualization thought to have taken place in the era. One should note that the Mount Gerizim sacred precinct, whose Persian phase was partially exposed by an Israeli expedition, measures 98 × 96 m, indicative of a substantial cult of sacrifice (Magen 2008). As at Jerusalem, priests would have assumed a central role in governance, as Persian authorities tended to remain at some distance when it came to managing the local population. This finds physical expression, for instance, in the 64

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4 km separating Jerusalem from the nearby center of Persian imperial operations at Ramat Rachel (Lipschits, Gadot, and D. Langgut 2012). For the Hellenistic era, the interpretation of the material culture of Judea has been impacted by pronounced scholarly interest in the dynamics of Western colonialization and the local response it precipitated. The emphasis now is more on cultural confluence rather than conflict (Tal 2007). The imperial apparatus continued to monitor and extract resources from local repositories of wealth such as temple treasuries, as the recently discovered Heliodorus stele demonstrates. But significant changes in the local material culture appear limited to the urban elites. Furthermore, assumptions of a simple dichotomy between Hellenism and Torah-observant Judaism are challenged by the material remains of the Hasmonean priest-kings. Assuming power in the mid2nd century bce, the Hasmoneans were in many ways in line with other Hellenistic ruling classes, as reflected in the iconography on their coins and tombs, and in decorative elements in their residences (Regev 2013). Judea nonetheless appears to have been void of major schools of art throughout the Hellenistic period (Erlich 2009: 110–12, 119–20). Indeed, there is no substantial locally produced floor and wall art on archaeological record in Judea until the period of King Herod’s reign, in the second half of the 1st century bce. After his overthrow of the Hasmoneans, Herod helped reorient Judea decidedly to the West. Archaeological remains bear witness to a region opening up culturally and advancing economically during his reign. His palaces and other buildings at sites such as Masada, Herodium, and Caesarea Maritima have merited careful archaeological attention over the past few decades, primarily the result of the life’s work of Ehud Netzer. Herod is shown by these remains to have been a patron of the arts and a skilled host and entertainer, having introduced to the region new building forms and having employed architects who used the local topography in audacious ways (Netzer 2006). His alleged tomb at the site of Herodium, in the Judean desert, is largely in ruins but still reflects some of the finest architectural decoration ever discovered in the region. The economic prosperity enjoyed under Herod is best expressed in the remodeled and expanded Temple precinct in Jerusalem. It is becoming increasingly clear that Jerusalem became an international attraction as the result of the project, which Herod spearheaded and financed. The city also benefited from the artificial harbor at Caesarea Maritima and improvements to the road infrastructure, also carried out under Herodian auspices. Herod may have undermined the political power of the Jewish high priest, but if the archaeological remains are any indication, the broad societal influence of the priesthood appears to have suffered little as a result. Priestly purity regulations were widely observed by non-priests by the late 1st century bce, if not earlier. Homes were regularly fitted with private ritual baths, and chalkstone became commonplace alongside ceramics due to its imperviousness to defilement according to ancient Jewish law. Alongside these developments, the synagogue became an important alternative communal institution to the Jerusalem Temple. Most recently a synagogue came to light on the shores of the Sea of Galilee at the site of Magdala, the hometown of Mary Magdalene (Hachlili 2013: 23–54). The introduction of these elements into the community may have conveyed a sense of ethnic pride (Berlin 2005: 429–34; Meyers and Chancey 2012: 131–38). Social resistance is a primary lens through which the remains at Qumran are interpreted. Qumran has numerous abnormally large ritual baths and a series of animal-bone deposits buried 65

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in jars outside buildings, among other idiosyncratic features attesting to the sectarian nature of the settlement there (Magness 2012: 108–32). Some have called the site’s association with the Essenes and the Dead Sea Scrolls into question by pointing out the similarity of its architectural remains to a typical Judean farmstead, or the fact that its material culture is generally similar to that of the lower classes of Judea in the Early Roman period. Regardless of who lived at Qumran, the site offers material evidence of a Judean society that was culturally and religiously diverse. The schisms long known to have beleaguered the region would of course turn violent, resulting in two wars with Rome. Signs of the devastation left in the wake of those wars, and of the cultural shift they helped bring about, continue to emerge as archaeological work in the region carries on in earnest.

Bibliography A. Erlich, The Art of Hellenistic Palestine, BAR International Series 2010 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2009). H. Geva, “Jerusalem’s Population in Antiquity: A Minimalist View,” Tel Aviv 41.2 (2014): 131–60. O. Lipschits, Y. Gadot, and D. Langgut, “The Riddle of Ramat Raḥel: The Archaeology of a Royal Persian Period Edifice,” Transeuphratène 21 (2012): 57–79. E. Stern, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, Vol. II: the Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 732–332 B.C.E. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007). O. Tal, The Archaeology of Hellenistic Palestine: Between Tradition and Renewal (Jerusalem: The Bialik Institute, 2007) (Hebrew). BENJAMIN D. GORDON

Related entries: Architecture; Burial Practices; Caesarea Maritima; Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim); Cemeteries (Beth shean); Cemeteries (Qumran); Entertainment Structures; Inscriptions; Jerusalem, Archaeology of; Masada, Archaeology of; Persian Period; Synagogues.

Architecture The significant remains of monumental architecture of the Second Temple period begin mainly from the end of the 2nd century bce, during the Hasmonean period, and culminate in the days of Herod the Great. These remains include temples, palaces, fortifications, and massive funerary monuments. However, some material remains date to the earlier Persian period (Magen 2000). The Persian Period. There are few findings from the Persian Period. The only extant evidence of the Second (Solomonic) Temple, Jerusalem built by the Persian returnees is from the biblical sources (Ezra 6:3–4), though an entire sacred precinct (temenosi) of the Samaritan temple was discovered at Mount Gerizim. The Samaritan temenos covers the entire area of the summit of Mount Gerizim and is built on the model of the Jerusalem Temple Mount, with a similar fortified perimeter wall. It was built in two stages: the first stage is dated to the Persian Period and the early Ptolemaic period, and the second to the Seleucid period. The precinct measures 39 × 38 m and the northern and eastern walls had triple-chamber gates, similar to the type that was common in Land of Israel in the Iron Age. The construction of a Byzantine church in the 5th century ce inside the temenos and directly on top of the temple left no remains of the temple itself. 66

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Additional buildings from the Persian Period identified as governors’ residences or fortresses have been discovered mainly in the area of the former kingdom of Judah. These structures have similar architectural designs, consisting of square or rectangular buildings with a large central courtyard surrounded by rooms. One example of this type of structure was excavated at the top of the tel in Lachish and has been identified as the governor’s residence (Figure 4.11). The architecture of the building is a combination of an Assyrian palace with a central courtyard, represented by the open court in the building’s northern part, and a Syrian bīt-ḫilāni, represented by the portico in the western part of the courtyard. The portico columns were made of well-cut drums standing on round column bases above a square, stepped plinth. There is a difference of opinion among scholars concerning the purpose of these buildings. Some argue that they were for internal defense (i.e. for controlling Yehud’s provincial borders), while others maintain that they were imperial buildings defending the border against Egyptian forces during the rebellion against Egypt, or perhaps following the end of Persian rule in Egypt at the end of the 5th century bce, when the land of Israel became a frontier region (Fantalkin and Tal 2006: 177–81). The Early Hellenistic Period (3rd–2nd centuries bce).  Little architectural evidence remains from monumental buildings from the Ptolemaic and early Seleucid periods (Peleg 2017: 4–6). Various Doric or Ionic architectural elements found in Dor and Maresha have been dated to the 3rd–2nd centuries bce. These items apparently belonged to temples that did not survive. The only exception ̨ raq el-Amir in western Jordan. Qasr is the monumental structure known as Qasr al-Abd in A al-Abd is essentially the oldest surviving monumental complex from the Hellenistic period in the land of Israel and western Jordan, and is dated to the 2nd century bce. This structure is attributed, based on Josephus (Josephus, Ant. 12.230–233), to the Tobiad notable Hyrcanus of Jerusalem. It was built of enormous square-cut ashlars stones, measuring 20 × 40 m and rising to a height of some 12 m. The second floor has many reliefs of animals, particularly eagles and male and

Figure 4.11 Fourth-century bce governor’s residence at Lachish. 67

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female lions. There are also reliefs elsewhere on the building, but they are incomplete, evidence that construction was apparently never completed, possibly due to the death of Hyrcanus. The building has been described as a fortress, temple, or palace. The late Ehud Netzer believed it was a magnificent palace that was reflected in the artificial lake that surrounded it (Netzer 2000). The Hasmonean Period.  Hasmonean architecture survives mostly in the remains of palaces, fortifications, and desert fortresses. Among the exceptional works of the Hasmonean dynasty was the series of desert fortresses that included Alexandrium, Dok, Cypros, Hyrcania, Machaerus, and apparently also Masada. The main purpose of these fortresses was to create places of refuge for members of the Hasmonean family during times of crisis. They had installations for collecting and storing food, water, and weapons, as well as fortifications and residential areas that were sometimes decorated with classical style architectural elements. Most of the fortresses were destroyed by the Romans and later renovated and expanded by Herod. In Jericho the winter palace of the Hasmoneans was discovered. This building reveals the typical Hasmonean architectural style (Figure 4.12). The first stage of the palace (Figure 4.12: 2) was built during the rule of John Hyrcanus, and included a tower (Figure 4.12: 1), a structure with a large central courtyard, to the west of which were two swimming pools (9 × 8 m; Figure 4.12: 3). Only a portion of this structure has been exposed because the remainder was covered by Alexander Jannaeus when he built a new palace above it (Figure 4.12: 5). A miqveh (ritual bath) was discovered in the northern wing of the palace (Figure 4.12: 9), and is one of the earliest, if not the earliest, miqveh discovered in the land of Israel. Other findings include rooms with fresco and stucco wall decorations. Alexander Jannaeus added two large swimming pools (13 × 18 m; Figure 4.12: 4B) to the northeastern side of the palace and a pavilion (Figure 4.12: 4A)—an open-sided structure with Doric columns, capitals, and entablature—to the south of the pools. An ornamental garden (60 × 70 m; Figure 4.12: 4C) was built to the north of the pools, apparently surrounded by stoa. At a later stage, Alexander Jannaeus decided to fortify the palace, in the process demolishing the palace built by his father. The new, fortified structure was built on the existing one and surrounded by a dry moat. The old palace was covered with layers of dirt in order to elevate the new palace above its surroundings. An important final stage in the development of this complex of Hasmonean palaces took place during the reign of Queen Salome Alexandra. Two square palaces, each measuring 25 × 25 m, were built to the south of the pavilion and the swimming pools. These new structures—called the “Twin Palaces” (Figure 4.12: 6)—were built side by side, in mirror-image fashion with swimming pools and decorative gardens on each side (Figure 4.12: 7). In each palace excavations have revealed a central courtyard (9 × 10 m) completely surrounded by rooms, a kitchen, a miqveh, bathrooms (including a bathtub), and a staircase attesting to the existence of a second story. Frescoes decorated the walls in some rooms. Adjacent to the twin palaces on the east is a further large swimming pool (Figure 4.12: 8). Another public building originating in the Hasmonean period is the synagogue. Synagogues built prior to the destruction of the Second Temple had common architectural designs, featuring a hall surrounded by stone benches and columns between the center of the hall and the benches, to support the ceiling.

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Figure 4.12  The Hasmonean Palace in Jericho plan.

Herod the Great. The greatest amount of monumental construction was undertaken during the reign of Herod. Josephus mentions 33 construction projects—20 in the land of Israel— and describes several in detail. In recent decades the findings from extensive archaeological excavations have both supplemented and sometimes contradicted his descriptions. Herod renovated and expanded the Hasmonean desert palaces and fortresses, including the magnificent palaces in Masada and Jericho. The palace at Herodium is the only one built in a site from scratch and not on a Hasmonean palace beforehand. Herod also built new cities, such as Antipatris, Caesarea, and Sebaste. In these cities he built temples, fortifications, a port, and entertainment structures such as a theater and stadium. Most of Herod’s construction projects were undertaken in the second decade of his reign—from 20 bce onward. His largest projects included the expansion of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, the reconstruction of the Temple, and the construction of the port of Caesarea. Herod built three temples in honor of Emperor Augustus, 69

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in Caesarea, Sebaste, and Paneas (Josephus, Ant. 1.414; 15.403–404). Recently a Roman temple was discovered in Horbat Omrit, about 4 km southeast from Paneas. This temple had three stages of construction, with the first two dated to Herod’s reign, and archaeologists surmise that this is the temple of Augustus at Paneas (Overman and Schowalter 2001). An examination of Herodian architecture reveals Hellenistic, Hasmonean, and Roman influences. Herod’s structures were patterned after the imperial Roman construction projects of his time, which included temples, sports and entertainment complexes, palaces, aqueducts, and bathhouses. Herod used Roman building technology such as domed roofs, arches, aqueducts, bridges, Roman cement, and opus quadratum or opus reticulatum techniques for building walls. Roman technology is evident in all of Herod’s building projects—e.g. Roman cement in the construction of the seaport in Caesarea, and arches for the expansion of the Temple Mount. The floor plans in Herod’s palaces included triclinia, peristyle courtyards, gardens, and bathhouses, similar to the Roman domus and Roman villa. One of the most significant characteristic features of Herodian construction is the use of ashlars. “Herodian” ashlars, particularly the large ones, had smooth margins along the edges of the stone’s exposed faces, forming a sort of frame. As Ehud Netzer noted, however, these are found only in three places related to Herod’s construction: the Temple Mount (Figure 4.13), Phasael Tower, and the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron (Netzer 2006: 309). Archaeological findings indicate that in all of his other building projects Herod did not use ashlars, but rather various other types of wall construction. The Hasmoneans often used ashlars in their building projects, with the best-known examples being Jerusalem’s city walls and fortifications. There are notable differences in the dressing of the stones when comparing the Hasmonean and Herodian periods, particularly in the boss, the area within the frame of the smooth margins. In the Hasmonean period, the boss was often left rough, while boss in Herod’s day was mainly smooth. On the southern edge of the eastern wall of the Temple Mount, there are two kinds of stones, side by side. At this point the “seam” is visible in the wall. The northern section is built of Hasmonean ashlars, while the southern part is associated with Herod’s addition.

Figure 4.13  Large corner ashlars of the Herodian Temple.

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Monumental Funerary Monuments. Funerary structures and tomb façades also reveal the architecture of the Second Temple period. A concentration of magnificent monolithic funerary monuments, such as the Tomb of Zechariah and the Tomb of Absalom, and tomb façades like the Tomb of Benei Hezir and Tomb of Jehoshaphat, can be seen in Jerusalem’s necropolis in the Kidron valley. These tombs are usually highly decorated, characterized by an eclectic mix of orders that incorporate Egyptian elements (such as pyramids and Egyptian torus-cavetto cornices), Greco-Roman elements, and components from different Classical architectural orders. The Tomb of Benei Hezir has a Doric distylos in antis façade, which suggests that it is the earliest one. Most of the monumental funerary monuments and tomb façades display a mixture of Ionic and Doric components. A distylos in antis façade is common in the Jerusalem necropolis, and is a feature of the Tomb of Helena, Queen of Adiabene, and Umm al-’Amad Cave.

Bibliography A. Fantalkin and O. Tal, “Redating Lachish Level I: Identifying Achaemenid Imperial Policy at the Southern Frontier of Fifth Satrapy,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 167–97. Y. Magen, “Mt. Gerizim—‘A Temple City’,” Qadmoniot 120 (2000): 97–118 (Hebrew). E. Netzer, Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho: Final Reports of the 1973–1987 Excavations (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2001). A. Overman and D. N. Schowalter, The Roman Temple Complex at Horvat Omrit, British Archaeological Reports International Series (Oxford: Hadrian Books 2011). O. Peleg-Barkat, The Temple Mount Excavations in Jerusalem, 1968–1978 Directed by Benjamin Mazar, Final Reports, vol. V: Herodian Architectural Decoration and King Herod’s Royal Portico [Qedem series] (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2017). EYAL BARUCH

Related entries: Archaeology, Recent Trends; Burial Practices; Caesarea Maritima; Domestic Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Fortresses and Palaces; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Masada, Archaeology of; Romanization; Samaria-Sebaste.

Archives and Libraries The study of archives and libraries in ancient Judaism requires careful distinction between literary and material evidence. While literary references attest to the existence of archives and libraries, the material evidence is meagre and difficult to interpret in relation, e.g., to how they functioned and were organized. A literary reference in 2 Maccabees 2:13–14 to Nehemiah’s founding a library or archive (βιβλιοθήκη, bibliothēkē) is often cited. Here Nehemiah is said to have collected the books about the kings and prophets, the writings of David, and letters of kings about votive offerings. The text goes on to claim that Judas Maccabeus likewise collected all the books that had been lost due to the war, but it is not clear whether the passage is referring to a library or archive of some sort. Josephus refers to public archives in Jerusalem (J.W. 2.427; 6.354; 7.55, 61), Sepphoris (Life 38), and Tyre (Ant. 8.55). Documentary evidence from the Judean Desert (P. Yadin 19:25–27; P. Yadin 20:12–13, 34–36) may also contain references to public archival registration of documents (cf. Lewis 1989: 87; Cotton and Yardeni 1997: 207–8; Hezser 2001: 155). It is often assumed that a collection of literary and documentary manuscripts existed in the Jerusalem Temple, though 71

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there is no unequivocal evidence for the existence of a library or archive there (Hezser 2001; Schorch 2007; Martone 2015). Artefactual evidence for libraries or archives in Second Temple Judaism begins with the Elephantine and Zenon collections from Egypt (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). In addition to hundreds of Aramaic ostraca, the 5th-century bce Elephantine manuscripts include dozens of letters, legal texts, accounts, and lists, as well as the literary text of Ahiqar. The social infrastructure that produced these texts consisted of members of a Jewish military colony in service of the Persian empire on the island of Elephantine, from which they also communicated with people in Jerusalem and Samaria (Porten 1968). The Zenon papyri from the Fayum region are 3rd-century bce Greek documents kept by Zenon, who was secretary to the finance minister Apollonius in the Ptolemaic government. The Zenon papyri consist of letters from Tobias, a member of the Tobiad family responsible for tax collection in Palestine on behalf of the Ptolemaic rulers (Tcherikover 1959). At least 18 sites in the Judean Desert have yielded manuscript collections. The reasons for their deposition mostly relate to factors such as violence and refuge (e.g. First Revolt against Rome, Bar Kokhba revolt; see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73– 136 ce]), rather than, e.g., trash disposal, such as was the case at Oxyrhynchus in Egypt. Most of these Judean manuscripts ended up in caves, whether they were taken along by refugees or deliberately hidden there. Traditionally, scholars have believed that the manuscripts found in the eleven Qumran caves were just such a deposit, a single community’s valuable works secreted away. Increasingly, however, scholars stress that these manuscripts did not originate from a single collection before being placed there (e.g. Stökl Ben Ezra 2007). Nevertheless, the Judean Desert manuscript finds add significantly to the knowledge of ancient Jewish archives and libraries (Lewis 1989; Cotton and Yardeni 1997; Popović 2012). For example, one may distinguish between private and more institutional (or rather communal) contexts. Comprising private archives are the 35 legal papyri of Babatha written in Greek, Aramaic, and Nabatean Aramaic and carefully packed together in a leather purse, and the six legal papyri in Hebrew and Aramaic, originally also packed in a leather bag of Eliezer bar Shemuel, both recovered from the Cave of Letters at Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters) (Cave 5/6). These archives were found placed on top of each other in the same cave. The archive of Salome Komaise, also found there, is from a woman who came from the same village as Babatha, suggesting that families from that village probably fled together. Together with a fourth private archive in the same cave, two fragmentary biblical texts were recovered. Another cave at Naḥal Ḥever (Cave 8, the Cave of Horrors) and other Judean Desert sites (Naḥal Ḥever/Wadi Seiyal, Naḥal Ṣeʾelim and Wadi Murabbaʿat) have yielded further literary materials. Given the mixture of texts and the personal character of the collections, these small collections of literary manuscripts suggest personal ownership. Similar to the documentary texts, one or more copies may have belonged to an individual or to one of the families in these caves. Another example of private collections is provided by the evidence at Masada, where the excavators understand some of the manuscripts to have belonged to individual families. This situation is different from the Naḥal Ḥever evidence because it concerns literary rather than legal documentary texts. Masada manuscripts were discovered in multiple locations in the complex. Some of these texts were found in rooms that, from an archaeological perspective, seem to have belonged to individual families, such as a Psalms manuscript (MasPsb) or one of 72

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Ben Sira (Mas1h Sir), since usually only one manuscript was found in each locus (except locus 1039, where the accumulation of manuscripts was probably secondary). The caves near Qumran have yielded by far the largest number of manuscripts, consisting mainly of literary texts, while documentary texts predominate at other Judean Desert sites. Given the large number of literary manuscripts from Qumran, as well as numerous multiple copies of the same composition, scholars often assume that these were not part of a personal collection (despite Caves 6 and 8 perhaps being singled out as private collections, but the evidence is inconclusive) but reflect communal ownership. The movement behind the scrolls from the caves near Qumran can be characterized as a textual community, reflecting a milieu of Jewish intellectuals or scholars who were engaged at a very high level with their ancestral traditions and who collected, studied, and produced manuscripts (Popović 2015).

Bibliography C. Martone, “The Qumran ‘Library’ and Other Ancient Libraries: Elements for a Comparison,” Scrolls from Qumran (2015), 55–77. M. Popović, “The Ancient ‘Library’ of Qumran between Urban and Rural Culture,” Scrolls from Qumran (2015), 155–67. S. Schorch, “The Libraries in 2 Macc 2:13–15 and the Torah as a Public Document in Second Century BC Judaism,” in The Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology, ed. G. G. Xeravits and J. Zsengellér, JSJSup 118 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 169–80. D. Stökl Ben Ezra, “Old Caves and Young Caves: A Statistical Reevaluation of a Qumran Consensus,” DSD 14 (2007): 313–33. MLADEN POPOVIĆ

Related entries: Babatha Archive; Bar Kokhba Letters; Letter Writing; Literacy and Reading; Ptolemies; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Seleucids; Tobiads.

Aristobulus I Judah Aristobulus I (104–103 bce) was the son of John Hyrcanus. He served along with his brother, Antigonus, in their father’s army. The two besieged the city of Samaria (Josephus, Ant. 13.276). The Seleucid monarch Antiochus IX Cyzicenus went there to help its citizens; Aristobulus and Antigonus defeated him in battle (Eshel 2008: 80). The two siblings then destroyed Samaria and enslaved many of its inhabitants (Josephus, J.W. 1.64–65; Ant. 13.275–83). After the death of John Hyrcanus, Aristobulus became high priest. He was the first Hasmonean to assume the title “king,” although the brief account of Strabo (Geography 16.2.40) contradicts Josephus on this issue (Atkinson 2016). Aristobulus began his short reign by imprisoning his mother and allowing her to starve to death because his father had chosen her as his political successor. Aristobulus also confined his siblings for the entirety of his reign, with the exception of his brother Antigonus (Josephus, J.W. 1.70–1; Ant. 13.301–03). According to Josephus, Aristobulus only conducted one military campaign (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule (II) [103–63 bce]). He conquered the Itureans and forced them to be circumcised and to follow Jewish law; however, the accounts of Josephus may suggest that his brother, Antigonus, actually led this campaign (Ant. 13.319; cf. J.W. 1.76; Atkinson 2016). Because there is no corroborating historical or archaeological evidence for an Iturean conquest 73

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during Aristobulus’ reign, it is possible that the Hasmoneans captured this region at some other time (Atkinson 2016; Regev 2013: 274–78). When Aristobulus became ill, Antigonus paraded around the Temple in his armor during the Festival of Tabernacles (J.W. 1.74; Ant. 13.304–6). Some members of the royal court convinced Aristobulus that Antigonus was preparing to stage a coup, and the king ordered his brother’s execution. Aristobulus died shortly afterward from some incurable and painful disease (J.W. 1.81–4; Ant. 13.314–18). According to Josephus and Strabo, pagans held him in such high esteem that he was known to them by the title Philhellene (Ant. 13.318). Josephus provides the only extant accounts of his reign (J.W. 1.70–84; Ant. 301–19). Josephus’ narratives of Aristobulus are largely dramas that focus on the dysfunctional aspects of the Hasmonean family (Atkinson 2016). According to Josephus, God told John Hyrcanus that neither Aristobulus nor Antigonus would be his heir. Rather, God said that one of Hyrcanus’ other sons, Alexander Jannaeus, would be a great ruler (Ant. 13.299–300). This apocryphal story was likely invented to explain the rather short reign of Aristobulus. Josephus also incorporates several dramatic incidents into his account of the slow and painful death of Aristobulus, in order to teach moral lessons. Josephus also claims that an Essene elder named Judah, whose prophecies had never been false, predicted the day and location where Aristobulus’ brother, Antigonus, would die (J.W. 1.78–80; Ant. 13.311–13). Aristobulus became inconsolable and mentally unstable at his brother’s passing. According to Josephus, Aristobulus was undermined in his final days by his wife and some members of his administration. His spouse, Salina/Salome Alexandra, is likely to be distinguished from Shelamzion/Salome Alexandra, the wife of Alexander Jannaeus (Atkinson 2016). Scholars have long debated whether Aristobulus minted coins. Most experts now agree that he did issue his own currency with the inscription “Judah the High Priest and the Congregation of the Jews” (Atkinson 2016). The absence of any royal designation on his currency does not indicate that he was never an actual monarch, but likely shows that there was some opposition to him using the title “king.” His brother, Alexander Jannaeus, succeeded him as the next Hasmonean king and high priest (J.W. 1.85; Ant. 13.320).

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Circumcision; Hasmonean Dynasty; High Priests; Inscriptions; Josephus, Writings of; Seleucids.

Aristobulus II Aristobulus II (67–63 bce) was the youngest son of Alexander Jannaeus and Shelamzion/Salome Alexandra. During his mother’s reign, he commanded the military forces she sent to Damascus against the Iturean ruler, Ptolemy, son of Mennaeus (Josephus, J.W. 1.418; Ant. 13.115). Josephus does not provide many details about this expedition, but he portrays it as a failure. Josephus records that Aristobulus II at times opposed his mother’s policies. When she died in 67 bce, his brother, Hyrcanus II, became king and high priest. Aristobulus II besieged him in Jerusalem

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and removed him from power. Hyrcanus II surrendered and agreed to become a private citizen; he had reigned for three months (J.W. 1.120–23; Ant. 14.4–7). Aristobulus II served as king and priest from 67 to 63 bce. His reign was characterized by armed conflict with his sibling, which eventually led to the Roman conquest of his homeland (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 97–102; Regev 2013: 161–65). Josephus is the major extant source for the reign of Aristobulus II (J.W. 1.120–58; Ant. 14.4– 79). The historians Plutarch (Pompeius) and Diodorus (Library of History) contain some brief passages about him and his sibling. Unfortunately, it is difficult to determine the chronology of these sources because Josephus’ writings for this period are not in chronological order (Atkinson 2016). Josephus writes that Antipater convinced Hyrcanus II to fight his brother to regain power (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule (II) [103–63 bce]). The two sought support from Aretas II, king of the Nabatean Arabs. Aretas and the partisans of Hyrcanus II besieged Aristobulus II in Jerusalem during the Passover (Ant. 14.4–53). At this time M. Aemilius Scaurus, a Roman general and Pompey’s legate, arrived in Damascus. When he heard about the civil war in Judea he decided to investigate and met envoys from both siblings. Scaurus allowed Aristobulus II to remain and ordered Aretas II to depart the country (J.W. 1.127–37; Ant. 14.4–28). For reasons Josephus does not explain, in 63 bce the Roman general Pompey decided that he could no longer trust Aristobulus II (J.W. 1.132–41; Ant. 14.47–57). It is uncertain if this was the result of something said when the two siblings traveled to Syria to meet Pompey, or whether Aristobulus II had committed some unknown act the Romans considered seditious (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 99–102). Whatever the case, Pompey arrested Aristobulus II and took him, along with his sons Alexander and Antigonus, to Rome (J.W. 1.157; Ant. 14.79; Plutarch, Pomp. 45). The Romans and the forces of Hyrcanus II then besieged the partisans of Aristobulus II in the Jerusalem Temple, defeating them after three months. In 56 bce, however, Aristobulus II and Antigonus escaped and returned to Judea. Their freedom was short-lived, for Gabinius, the Roman governor of Syria, captured them and sent Aristobulus II back to Rome. Julius Caesar freed Aristobulus II, though, and gave him two legions in 49 bce to help him fight the supporters of Pompey in Syria. Aristobulus II died when the partisans of Pompey in Rome poisoned him (J.W. 1.184; Ant. 14.123–4). Josephus emphasizes the contrasting temperaments of Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II, portraying the former as a hothead and the latter as lethargic. These depictions are likely not factual, but only are part of Josephus’ polemic (Atkinson 2016); in his books Josephus sides with Aristobulus II and the leading citizens against his mother and her Pharisaic partisans (Mason 1991: 54). Because Hyrcanus II was a Pharisee and served as high priest during her reign, Josephus consistently denigrates him. It appears that Aristobulus II, like his father, backed the Sadducees in this sectarian struggle (Atkinson 2016).

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Aristobulus I; Hasmonean Dynasty; High Priests; Hyrcanus I, John; Hyrcanus II, John; Itureans; Josephus, Writings of; Nabatea; Pharisees; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals.

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Aristotle Aristotle (384–322 bce) was a Macedonian philosopher whose polymathic inquiries and logical methodology were intellectually formative for western civilization from late antiquity, including medieval Judaism, but who had at most a modest influence on Jewish thought of the Second Temple period. Aristotle, the son of a royal court physician, was born in Stagira (hence his title “the Stagirite”). He studied under Plato in his Academy from 367 to the Athenian’s death in 347 bce. After over a decade away, including serving a few years as tutor for Philip of Macedon’s son, Alexander the Great, Aristotle returned to Athens in 335 bce to found his own school, the Lyceum. There he attracted students who came to be called the Peripatetics, perhaps after a walkway where instruction occurred (Rajak 2009: 74–75). Together they studied diverse topics by relying upon empirical observation, in contrast to Plato’s focus on transcendent idealism, as well as established a renowned library (cf. Strabo 12.1.54; 13.608). The Lyceum was noted for its special interest in politeiai (constitutions), including lawgivers (Rajak 2009: 75). The catalog (pinakes) of Callimachus suggests that a segment of this collection was dedicated to nomoi (laws; Blum 1991: 135) which may account for how even portions of the Hebrew Scriptures that do not contain legal material came to be categorized as nomos (Rajak 2009: 75). Of about 200 writings, only 31 of Aristotle’s works are extant, and these are mostly lecture notes and other texts not meant for wide circulation outside the Lyceum. Though not necessarily systematic, the extent works nevertheless provide a sizeable compendium of Aristotle’s thinking on a range of topics, including biology, physics, mathematics, medicine, psychology, politics, ethics, rhetoric, and poetry. Aristotle left Athens after Alexander’s death in 323 bce and died the next year. Though the Peripatetic school continued as a philosophical sect, the Stagirite’s influence waned until the 1st century bce when a revival of interest in his work began. This revival not only flourished into a vibrant tradition of commentaries on Aristotle’s work that preserved and dialogued with his ideas but also sought to harmonize them with the work of Plato. Aristotle and Judaism.  According to an account preserved only by Josephus, the 3rd-century bce Peripatetic Clearchus of Soli says that Aristotle met a Jewish sage from Coele-Syria. This Jew was a Greek not only in language but also in soul and was great in patience and self-control (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.175–183) and dispensed wisdom to Aristotle and his students. In this account, which derives from Clearchus’ treatise On Dreams, Aristotle goes on to explain that the Jews ultimately descend from the Indian philosophers and, though probably spurious, suggests a surprising esteem of Judaism by describing one of its people as a Greek both in language and in soul. Some have observed Aristotle’s influence in legends pertaining to the origins of the Greek translation of the Torah. For instance, Demetrius of Phaleron, the royal librarian of the Ptolemaic kingdom and chief architect of the initiative to have the Hebrew Scriptures translated into Greek (Josephus, Ant. 12.12–16; Let. Aris. 9–29), may have been a Peripatetic (Orth 2001: 108–9). Furthermore, Aristotelian thought is evident in several instances in the Letter of Aristeas (Let. Aris. 3, 105, 108–111, 122, 130, 165, 210, 223; Hadas 1951). Aristobulus (flourished ca. 181– 145 bce) preserves the earliest, if indirect, reference to Aristotle by a Jewish writer when he cites “some members of the Peripatetic school” to support his claim that light proceeds from wisdom (frag. 5.10; Eusebius, Praep. ev. 13.12.10; cf. Collins 2000: 186–90). A tradition later developed that Aristobulus himself was a Peripatetic. The first known writer to make this claim

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is the 2nd-century ce Christian Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 1.15.72.4), who also calls Philo of Alexandria “the Pythagorean.” Clement may have used these questionable titles to legitimate these Jewish thinkers, however. For his part, Aristobulus does not explicitly identify with any school and his thought is too eclectic to categorize (Holladay 1995: 204–5). Philo of Alexandria (ca. 20 bce–50 ce) provides the most evidence of the Stagirite’s intellectual influence on turn of the era Judaism (Runia 2008). Philo explicitly mentions Aristotle in only two treatises. In the philosophical treatise On the Eternity of the World 1.10–12 Philo disagrees with Aristotle that the world is uncreated but does agree that it is indestructible. In Questions and Answers on Genesis 3.16, Philo interprets Genesis 15:19 to claim, as “Aristotle and the Peripatetics” hold, that happiness is perfect fulfillment in spiritual, bodily, and external blessings. But most of Aristotle’s influence was mediated to Philo through other philosophical traditions, especially Middle Platonism, which had appropriated and modified Peripatetic teachings. For example, Philo’s discussion of different types of causation in On the Cherubim 125–127 reflects Aristotle’s own teaching on causation (Phys. 2.3–9) but with an added intermediary cause inserted by Platonists to counter an Aristotelian critique of their founder’s teaching.

Bibliography R. Blum, Kallimachos. The Alexandrian Library and the Origins of Bibliography (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991). W. Orth, “Ptolemaios II. Und die Septuaginta-Übersetzung,” in Im Brennpunkt: Die Septuaginta. Studien zur Entstehung und Bedeutung der griechischen Bibel, ed. H.-J. Fabry and U. Offerhaus, BWANT 53 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001), 97–114. D. T. Runia, “Philo and Hellenistic Doxography,” in Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy, ed. F. Alesse, SPA 5 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 13–54. RONALD R. COX

Related entries: Greek Philosophy; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of.

Armenian Armenian is a traditional Indo-European language spoken by Armenians today in the Caucasus region and abroad. Since its origins in the first half of the 5th century ce, Armenian literature has included Jewish writings (Stone 2014). A number of Second Temple texts, and especially “pseudepigrapha” and “apocrypha,” were translated in Armenian at an early stage. In addition, the presence of several allusions to and reminiscences of Jewish traditions in Armenian literature demonstrates the familiarity of Armenians with these Jewish traditions through the medieval period. Some texts from the Second Temple period are particularly worth mentioning. Fourth Ezra, originally composed in Hebrew, was translated and transmitted in Latin and in many Oriental languages, including Armenian. The Armenian version of this book, which was translated from a now-lost Greek version, is quite different from the others (Stone 1979, 1990). This Armenian version must have existed by the mid-5th century due to reminiscences of it in the History of Armenia written at that time by the so-called Agathangelos. As such, it serves as an important witness to the even earlier Greek Vorlage. This reworked version, produced by a Christian, is characterized by the addition or the omission of extensive passages and by the

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rearrangement of the structure and content of many other excerpts. Among the most important theological changes is the omission of references to the “evil heart” (e.g. 4 Ezra 3:20–22, 26; 7:48); the Armenian text instead underscores human responsibility for evil and stresses the concepts of human and divine will. Another particular feature of the Armenian text is its emphasis on eschatological reward and punishment, already present in the original material. Furthermore, it inserts a reference to the “Antichrist.” To the extent that the Armenian version is an important witness to an early stage in the development of the Greek tradition, it probably also preserves some old readings that go back to the oldest Jewish form of 4 Ezra. The Greek-Jewish novel Joseph and Aseneth (inspired by Gen 41:46–52) is another text that flourished among Oriental traditions. Here also the Armenian version, preserved in two recensions (long and short), is an important witness for reconstructing the original Greek text, as Burchard has repeatedly shown (e.g. Burchard 2010). Further Armenian translations that are valuable from a philological point of view include the works of Philo of Alexandria and Pseudo-Philo (LAB), which in some cases are preserved only in Armenian (see Philo’s QG, QE, Prov., and Anim.; Mancini Lombardi and Pontani 2011). Finally, an important work preserved in the Armenian tradition is the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (Issaverdens 1934: 353–485; Stone 2012), which is also extant in other several languages. Among the different versions, the Armenian is to be regarded as the most important, even if contemporary scholars have variously assessed its textual importance. Early on, some scholars such as Conybeare (1895) and Charles (1908) maintained that the Armenian version was made from a Greek text with fewer interpolations than existing Greek manuscripts of the work. Although other scholars like Stone (1990) and de Jonge (1953) have stressed that the Armenian text also bears evidence of Christian reworking (e.g. in the omission of some paraenetic sections; Burchard 1969), all recognize the Armenian translation’s significance for establishing the text and shape of the Greek tradition (Stone 2011). Likewise of textual value are the Armenian versions of Lives of the Prophets and Paraleipomena Jeremiou (= 4 Bar.; Issaverdens 1934: 178–203 and 228–305, respectively).

Bibliography C. Burchard, “Zur armenischen Überlieferung der Testamente der zwölf Patriarchen,” in Studien zu den Testamenten der Zwölf Patriarchen, ed. W. Eltester, BZNW 36 (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1969), 1–29. C. Burchard, A Minor Edition of the Armenian Version of Joseph and Asenath, HUAS 10 (Leuven: Peeters, 2010). F. C. Conybeare, “On the Jewish Authorship of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,” JQR 5 (1895): 375–98. J. Issaverdens, The Uncanonical Writings of the Old Testament Found in the Armenian Manuscripts of the Library of St. Lazarus (Venice: Armenian Monastery of St. Lazarus 1901, repr. 1934). S. Mancini Lombardi and P. Pontani, eds. Studies on the Ancient Armenian Version of Philo’s Work, SPA 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). M. E. Stone, The Armenian Version of 4 Ezra, University of Pennsylvania Armenian Texts and Studies 1 (Missoula: Society of Biblical Literature, 1979). M. E. Stone, Textual Commentary on the Armenian Version of IV Ezra, SBLSCS 34 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1990). M. E. Stone, in collaboration with V. Hillel, The Armenian Version of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: Edition, Apparatus, Translation and Commentary, HUAS 11 (Leuven: Peeters, 2012).

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M. E. Stone, “The Armenian Apocryphal Literature of the Old Testament in the Twentieth Century,” in Armenian Philology the Modern Era: From Manuscript to Digital Text, ed. V. Calzolari, in collaboration with M.E. Stone, HOS, Section 8, 23/1 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 247–63. VALENTINA CALZOLARI

Related entries: Apocrypha, “Old Testament”; Baruch, Fourth; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Multilingualism; Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament.”

Artapanus Artapanus wrote On the Jews, a work known through three fragments preserved in the Preparation for the Gospel by Eusebius of Caesarea quoting Alexander Polyhistor. Otherwise unknown, this author’s name is of Persian origin, and Artapanus is usually dated to the 2nd century bce, perhaps the fourth quarter of that century (Zellentin 2009), and to the Memphite area (Kugler 2005). The three fragments deal with Abraham (Praep. ev. 9.18.1), Joseph (Praep. ev. 9.23.1–4), and Moses (Praep. ev. 27.1–37; Holladay 1983: 189–243). In all three accounts, Artapanus portrays the three leaders as benefactors to Egyptian civilization and omits any details which might diminish their heroic stature. Abraham taught astrology to pharaoh and so Jews have resided in Egypt from early times. Joseph did not arrive in Egypt as a slave. Under him as finance minister, the land of Egypt flourished, and he brought justice to the oppressed. Artapanus paints Moses like the legendary Egyptian leaders. He founded Egyptian civil religion, ensuring stability for Egypt. Moses is named Musaeus, teacher of Orpheus, and Hermes. Thus Artapanus has a Jew form Egyptian culture and through him Greek culture. Moses was also a great warrior who, with unskilled fighters, defeated the Ethiopians. Artapanus retells the biblical narrative with his own amusing twists. He does not include the death of the firstborn of the Egyptians or the giving of the Law on Mount Sinai, but does have all the sacred animals die with pharaoh. This highly entertaining retelling of the stories, particularly of Moses, has intrigued scholars. The Jews are portrayed as living in Egypt since ancient times, and as instrumental in forming Egyptian culture and civilization. When the Jews were present, Egypt flourished. When the Jews were attacked, Egypt and its gods were destroyed. Artapanus argues for sustaining, respectful relationships between the Jewish community and the surrounding Egyptian community (Gruen 1998: 155–60).

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “Artapanus Revisited,” in Judaism to Christianity: Tradition and Transition. A Festschrift for Thomas H. Tobin, S.J. on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, ed. P. Walters; NovTSup 136 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 59–68. H. Jacobson, “Artapanus Judaeus,” JJS 57 (2006): 210–21. R. Kugler, “Hearing the Story of Moses in Ptolemaic Egypt: Artapanus Accomodates the Tradition,” in, The Wisdom of Egypt: Jewish, Early Christian, and Gnostic Essays in Honour of Gerard P. Luttikhuizen, ed. A. Hilhorst and G. H. Kooten (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 68–80. H. M. Zellentin, “The End of Jewish Egypt. Artapanus and the Second Exodus,” in Antiquity in Antiquity. Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World, ed. G. Gardner and K. Osterloh (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 27–73. ROBERT DORAN

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Ascent into Heaven

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization.

Ascent into Heaven Many texts in the ancient world mention or narrate an ascent into heaven. Greco-Roman works as well as ancient Near Eastern writings, including texts from Judaism and Christianity, refer to heavenly journeys and, in many cases, what can be seen on such journeys. The purposes for these journeys vary: some seemed more intent on the invasion of heaven (e.g. the Akkadian text Adapa, in which the son of Ea attempts to ascend to heaven to obtain eternal life, or Isa 14:12–20); others functioned to offer a foretaste of experiences after death (e.g. 1 En. 37–71; Ascen. Isa.); still others sought revelation (e.g. Parmenides’ Prooemium, which only exists in fragments, or T. Levi) or immortality of some kind (e.g. Elijah in 2 Kgs 2:11). The accounts of ascent from the Jewish and Christian traditions in the Second Temple period bear a family resemblance to one another. This similarity has led to speculation about whether these texts are intended to depict an actual mystical experience or whether they simply represent a literary genre of writing. There are a wide range of such texts. Some of the best known of these ascent texts can be found in 1 Enoch (14:8–25 and 37–71), Slavonic or 2 Enoch (chs. 1–22), 3 Enoch (Sefer hekhalot §§4–19), 3 Baruch, the Testament of Levi (chs. 2–6), the Apocalypse of Abraham (chs. 15–32), and the Ascension of Isaiah (chs. 6–11), as well as in the Book of Revelation (chs. 4:1–22:17) and 2 Corinthians (12:1–10) in the New Testament. Additionally, documents found among the Dead Sea Scrolls (such as the Aramaic Levi Document and the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice) have been connected to the ascent tradition. Several of the works featuring an ascent into heaven (e.g. 1 En. 14:8–25 and the New Testament texts) clearly date to the Second Temple period; the dates of others are disputed, with some scholars placing them in the Second Temple period and others dating them later (e.g. 1 En 37–71). Still other texts come entirely from the Tannaitic or Amoraic period (e.g. Ascen. Isa.; 3 En.). Most of these ascent texts share certain characteristics such as (a) the pseudepigraphic ascription of the ascent to a famous figure from the past, often a biblical character; (b) a description of the ascent and accompanying sights in the first person; (c) angel accompaniers who guide the one ascending through the experience and interpret what he is seeing; (d) the goal of ascent being a vision of God seated on his throne who, often, then reveals mysteries to the visionary (Dean-Otting 1984). In the majority of texts the ascender experiences great fear on entering heaven and/or upon seeing God. The ascent texts do not all agree upon whether others participate in witnessing the ascent, whether the ascender travels in his body, or upon the method of ascent (e.g. ascending with the clouds, with the help of an angel, or summoned by a voice). Not infrequently, the seer’s experience is described in such a way that he becomes angel-like, to assure (righteous) recipients of the writing of the status and kind of existence they can attain after death (Himmelfarb 1993: 3–4). Despite the dissimilarities, the common motifs suggest that certain conventions were expected in a text describing an “ascent to heaven.” These similarities also draw attention to those texts in which all common motifs are not present, such as in 3 Baruch or 2 Corinthians 12:1–10 (where the ascender does not see God), raising the question as to why they have been omitted in these cases. 80

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Given these similarities among ascent texts, a further question is whether it is possible to posit an historical trajectory of development in practice that goes beyond literary similarities. Scholars hold differing views on this subject. Some, like Scholem (1955), trace a developing line of “mysticism” from 1 Enoch 37–71, through to the merkabah mysticism of the hekhalot material, and into the kabbalah of the medieval period. Whereas Scholem began his trajectory with post-biblical texts, other scholars, such as Ithamar Gruenwald (1980), start the trajectory much further back with texts of the Hebrew Bible like the chariot vision of Ezekiel 1 or Micaiah ben-Imlah’s vision of heaven in 1 Kings 22. Others still, such as Peter Schäfer (1988), argue that the texts themselves cannot be seen in terms of an historical trajectory but rather emerge out of a wider tradition. As is the case in the later hekhalot literature, texts describing ascents into heaven from the Second Temple period exist in different forms, often beginning and ending in different places. In other words, the texts bear witness to the existence of a tradition, but do not form that tradition themselves. This discussion also raises pertinent issues about ascents into heaven in Second Temple Judaism. Strictly speaking there are only a handful of ascent texts that fall indisputably into the Second Temple period, most notably parts of 1 Enoch, particularly the Book of the Watchers (chs. 1–36), and certain texts from Qumran such as the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice and 4QBerakhot. Other classic texts of ascent into heaven date, in whole or in part, significantly after the Second Temple period. The debate about a historical trajectory—either of texts, or of a tradition that gave rise to a variety of texts—raises the possibility that later texts, like 2 Enoch or the Testament of Levi, may have their roots in the Second Temple period. Alternatively, parts of texts, such as the actual ascent portion of the otherwise later and Christian Ascension of Isaiah, also might be seen to have taken shape during the Second Temple period and later developed and adapted into their present forms.

Bibliography M. Dean-Otting, Heavenly Journeys. A Study of the Motif in Hellenistic Jewish Literature, Judentum und Umwelt 8 (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1984). I. Gruenwald, Apocalyptic and Merkavah Mysticism, AGAJU 14 (Leiden: Brill, 1980). M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). P. Schäfer, Hekhalot-Studien, TSAJ 19 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1988). G. G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (London: Thames and Hudson, 1955). PAULA GOODER

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Dream and Vision Reports; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Merkabah Mysticism; Mystery.

Asceticism Asceticism involves the discipline of a voluntary renunciation of food, drink, material comfort, and sex, and/or a particular regimen of daily existence (see Fraade 1986: 253–88) beyond what is normative in one’s religious community (Diamond 2004: 7–16). It is found in both Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism, as well as in various Greco-Roman philosophical schools (e.g. Musonius Rufus, Discourse 4; Martial, Ep. 11:56; and see Wimbush 1990: 129–33; Finn 2009). In Scripture asceticism is prescribed in the Nazirite vow (Num 6:1–21; see Diamond 2004: 106–4; Chepey 2005). People (both men and women) dedicate themselves to God for a designated 81

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period, abstaining from wine or grape substances and avoiding corpse impurity; they also do not cut their hair, and, at the end of the vow, they shave their heads in a ceremony and offer sacrifices. Samson (Judg 13:5–7) and Samuel (1 Sam 1:11) are identified as lifelong Nazirites, vowed as such by their mothers. Evidence for this practice in Second Temple times is found in 1 Maccabees 3:49, which refers to youths who had ended their vows. Josephus refers to the vow (Ant. 4.72) and to various people undertaking it (e.g. Berenice [J.W. 2.310–314; cf. Ant. 19.294]). In Acts 18:18 Paul concludes a vow (but in Cenchraea), and in Acts 21:20–24 Paul pays for sacrifices of people concluding their vows in the Jerusalem Temple. John the Baptist is defined as a lifelong Nazirite (Luke 1:15). An entire tractate of the Mishnah (Nazir) is dedicated to the practice. It is said here that Queen Helena of Adiabene undertook the vow for an extended period (m. Naz. 3:5–6). In Daniel 10:2–3 a mystical vision is preceded by wine-avoidance, a vegetarian diet, and eschewing anointing. This is the first instance of ascetic practice used in mystical-apocalyptic piety, evidenced in a range of later texts (Sappington 1991: 26–53; Gruenwald 2014: 135–139; Davila 2001: 75–125). In the Apocalypse of Abraham 9:7 wine, cooked food, and anointing with oil are avoided for 40 days ahead of a visionary task. Fasting or a limited vegetarian diet are recommended in 4 Ezra (5:13, 20, 31; 6:29–35; 9:23–24; 12:50–13:20) and 2 Baruch (9:1–10:3; 12:3–5–13:3; 20:5–21:3; 47:2–48:1). Forms of asceticism existed among different Jewish groups. As described, the Essenes live in community, share possessions, keep a high standard of purity, eat frugally, dress in white garments till they are threadbare, are celibate or limit sex, and avoid anointing themselves with oil (Philo, Prob. 86, 91; Hypoth. 11:4–5, 10, 12; Josephus, Ant. 18.20; J.W. 2.122–123, 127, 129– 132, see Taylor 2012). Rabbinic literature mentions pērushim (b. B. Bat. 60b) taking a vow of abstinence, avoiding meat and wine. Instances of “mortification” of the flesh are also evidenced (b. Qidd. 81b; b.BM 85a; Clenman 2014). A historical group which Epiphanius equates with “Pharisees” had designated periods of celibacy and asceticism (Pan. 1:16). In the Dead Sea Scrolls the type of asceticism most evidenced focuses on maintaining a high degree of purity (1QS vi–vii; 11QTemple xlvii 3–5; 4Q400 1 i 14–16). In Alexandria, Philo notes Jews who practice renunciations, eating frugally, using basic dishes, dressing simply, and detaching themselves from public life (Somn. 1.124–6; Gig. 31; Mut. 32–34; Her. 48, 68–78, 84–5; Decal. 108–20; Fug. 33–41). In De vita contemplativa he describes a community of such ascetics (called therapeutai, meaning both “ministers” of God and “ministers/healers” of the soul, Contempl. 2). They eat only bread, salt, and hyssop and drink only water (Contempl. 34–37, 73, 81); they dress very simply (Contempl. 38), sleep on the floor in simple huts (Contempl. 49), and devote themselves to allegorical interpretation and music (Contempl. 29; see Taylor 2003: 145–52). Philo includes himself as someone who maintains a certain austerity (Spec. 2.20), having adopted a more extreme form for a time (Spec. 3.1–6).

Bibliography S. D. Chepey, Nazirites in Late Second Temple Judaism: A Survey of Ancient Jewish Writings, the New Testament, Archaeological Evidence, and Other Writings from Late Antiquity, AJEC 60 (Leiden: Brill, 2005). L. Clenman, “The Fire and the Flesh: Self-Destruction of the Male Rabbinic Body,” in The Body in Biblical, Christian and Jewish Texts, ed. J. E. Taylor, LSTS 85 (London: T&T Clark, 2014), 210–25.

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E. Diamond, Holy Men and Hunger Artists: Fasting and Asceticism in Rabbinic Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). R. Finn, Asceticism in the Greco-Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). S. D. Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects of Ancient Judaism,” in Jewish Spirituality: From the Bible through the Middle Ages, ed. A. Green (New York: Crossroad, 1986), 253–88. I. Gruenwald, Merkabah and Apocalyptic Judaism, 2nd rev. ed. (Leiden: Brill, 2014). T. J. Sappington, Revelation and Redemption at Colossae (London: A&C Black, 1991). J. E. Taylor, The Essenes, the Scrolls and the Dead Sea (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). V. L. Wimbush, ed. Ascetic Behavior in Greco-Roman Antiquity: A Sourcebook (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990). JOAN E. TAYLOR

Related entries: Daniel, Book of; Diet in Palestine; Ethics; Josephus, Writings of; Marriage and Divorce; Oaths and Vows; Philo of Alexandria; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sexuality.

Asia Minor Asia Minor is the large peninsula of land stretching from the Euphrates in the East to the Aegean in the West that comprises much of modern Turkey (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). During the Second Temple period the area was not referred to as Asia Minor but simply as Asia. This westernmost part of the vast continent of Asia was first called Asia Minor (Mikra Asia) in the 2nd century ce, a designation that has become common for this area since then. This land mass was also known as Anatolia (ἀνατολή, anatolē, “the East”). During the Roman period, the western portion of Asia Minor became the Roman province of Asia (Provincia Asia) after the Pergameme king, Attalus III, bequeathed his kingdom to Rome in 133 ce (see Magie 1950: 1.3–33). This province extended southward from the ethnic territories of the Troad and Mysia in the north to Aeolis, Lydia, Ionia, and Caria. The key cities of this province included Alexandrian Troas, Assos, Adramyttium, Pergamum, Smyrna, Ephesus, Sardis, and Miletus. There is literary and inscriptional evidence for Jewish communities in more than 50 locations in Asia Minor. More than 135 Jewish inscriptions have been discovered with most written in Greek, but seven in Hebrew. According to Josephus, as many as 2,000 Jewish families were moved from Mesopotamia to Lydia and Phrygia ca. 210 bce (Josephus, Ant. 12.148–53). Only two ancient synagogues have been discovered in Asia Minor thus far—the remains of a small structure in Priene (near Miletus) and a palatial structure in Sardis. Ephesus was the seat of the Roman proconsul and the largest city of Asia Minor with a population that may have exceeded 200,000 during the principate. Called “the metropolis of Asia” in the inscriptions, Ephesus served as the administrative and commercial hub of Asia Minor. Strabo (Geogr. 14.1.24) called Ephesus “the greatest commercial center in Asia this side of the Taurus river.” There was a strong Jewish community in Ephesus and, quite possibly, multiple synagogues (although none have yet been discovered). Josephus is a helpful witness to the Jewish presence in the city through his records of official correspondence and local decrees related to questions about their legal rights to live according to their law without discrimination and ill-treatment. His testimony indicates that the Jews were granted the freedom to practice their religion according to their traditions, which included meeting together regularly, observing the Sabbath and “holy days,” and following their food laws (Josephus, Ant. 14.223–227, 262–664; 16.167–168,

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172–173). Josephus also records that the Jews of Asia occasionally faced “mistreatment and hostility” over the practice of their religion (Josephus, Ant. 16.160) and that some of the gentile population “feel a hatred for our religion which is undeserved and unauthorized” (Josephus, Ant. 16.45), although by the Augustan era this may have eased (see Barclay 1999: 268–81). According to Josephus, the Jews of Sardis had their own place to meet (τόπον ἴδιον, topon idion) in the 1st century bce (Josephus, Ant. 14.235). In the early 3rd century ce, the Jewish community acquired a building that originally served as a Roman basilica and converted it into their synagogue. This enormous structure is the largest synagogue ever discovered from antiquity, and it occupied a prominent place in the city of Sardis. The size of the edifice suggests that this was a large and prosperous Jewish community that was well integrated into the life of the city (see Trebilco 1991: 37–57). The Jewish communities of Asia Minor maintained a commitment to paying their Temple tax, observing the Sabbath, following their food laws, and seeking exemption from military service, according to the testimony of Josephus. This evidence suggests that the majority of Jews in Asia Minor sought to live an observant life and to maintain their Jewish distinctiveness.

Bibliography D. Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1950). P. Trebilco, Jewish Communities in Asia Minor, SNTSMS 69 (Cambridge: University Press, 1991). CLINTON E. ARNOLD

Related entries: Architecture; Diaspora; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greece and the Aegean; Josephus, Writings of; Persecution, Religious; Romanization.

Acculturation and Assimilation Assimilation is a process by which a person or group belonging to one culture adopts the practices of another, thereby becoming a part of that culture. Acculturation is a different process of adaptation to new conditions of life that result from contact with a different culture. In modern sociology, the distinction between assimilation and acculturation is fourfold: (1) Assimilation is unidirectional whereas acculturation may occur in both directions. (2) Assimilation requires both external change and internal change involving values, whereas acculturation does not require an internal change of values. (3) Assimilation necessitates that those assimilating be accepted by the other group, whereas acceptance need not occur in acculturation. (4) Assimilation leads the subject to self-identify with the other group, whereas acculturation does not compel him or her to self-identify thus. The literature of the Second Temple period provides salient examples of assimilation and acculturation along the lines established above: direction, change, acceptance, and selfidentification. The account in 2 Maccabees 4 of the Jerusalemites who embrace Hellenism and become naturalized citizens of Antioch exemplifies assimilation while acculturation describes well the Judeans who interact with the cultures of Samaria and Ammon in the book of Nehemiah (chs. 4 and 6). It should be noted that while both examples likely reflect historical realities, they are not ethnographic field reports. They are, rather, works of historiography that uncritically depict the in-group (Judeans in both examples) and vilify the out-group (Seleucid agents and the Samarians/Ammonites, respectively). Moving between the two groups are those persons 84

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assimilating or acculturating, and the portrayal of these individuals may be exaggerated or polemicized. Bias in the narrative must be taken into account when reading 2 Maccabees and Nehemiah as windows on assimilation and acculturation. Second Maccabees 4 reports that the high priest Jason gained his office through simony and, with the Seleucid king’s permission, proceeded to build a Greek-style gymnasium in Jerusalem. Jason was also authorized to designate (literally inscribe) people of Jerusalem as Antiochenes and thereby make them citizens of that polis. Many, including certain Temple priests, followed Jason, and the writer describes this as ἐξομοιοῦσθαι (exomoiousthai; 2 Macc 4:16), which certain lexica and commentators translate as “assimilation” (Doran 2012: 94). Indeed this scenario meets the sociological criteria for assimilation, and it may be against such that the roughly contemporary Book of Jubilees complained (cf. Thiessen 2011: 67–86). The cultural attraction is unidirectional inasmuch as Jason’s people adopt a Hellenistic lifestyle (2 Macc 4:10), but there is no mention of reciprocity. Jerusalemites who become Antiochenes changed internally, as indicated by the Temple priests who neglected their service at the altar in order participate in wrestling contests at the gymnasium (2 Macc 4:14). Their choice suggests a shift to Hellenistic values, and some commentators speculate that Jason’s actions in Jerusalem allowed the Jewish assembly there to alter the Mosaic laws. The Jewish Antiochenes were accepted as such within the larger Seleucid Empire when, e.g., Jason sends envoys from this group to the quinquennial games in Tyre, over which the king Antiochus IV Epiphanes presided (2 Macc 4:18–19). The envoys were instructed to deliver 300 drachmas of silver toward the sacrifice to Herakles, the patron deity of the games at Tyre. It is an open question whether the envoys self-identified with the Hellenists gathered at Tyre, thus satisfying the fourth criterion. They may have done so in certain respects, although the envoys’ decision that sacrificing to Herakles was ultimately inappropriate (2 Macc 4:19) makes the episode ambiguous. In contrast, a portion of Nehemiah’s community in Jerusalem interacts with Samarians to the north and Ammonites to the east in ways that are consistent with acculturation. As the Judeans in question have significant contact with the Samarian Sanballat and the Ammonite Tobiah, these two men in turn are engaged in and affected by events in Jerusalem. Sanballat resides in Beth-Horon, a community northeast of Jerusalem near the border between Yehud and Samaria. Although a governor of Samaria, Sanballat’s personal holding of land was so close to Yehud that he was keenly interested in the neighboring province. Tobiah the Ammonite has been variously understood as a descendant of the Ammonites who lived in Yehud or as the Persian-appointed governor of the Ammonite region just east of Yehud. In either case Tobiah, like Sanballat, would have had an interest in events in Yehud and been party to a two-way cultural exchange. There is no evidence that the Judeans in Nehemiah undergo internal change at the level of values; e.g. even when certain of them swear support for Tobiah (Neh 6:18), the repercussions are minimal as they simply endorse him publicly and report back to him on Nehemiah’s doings (6:19). Swearing an oath to Tobiah could be interpreted as acceptance of the Judeans on the part of the Ammonites, although these Judeans are never integrated into an Ammonite institution analogous to the athletic games at Tyre and thus appear to acculturate as opposed to assimilate. Finally, on the question of self-identification, Nehemiah 4:10–12 refers to “Judeans who lived near them” (i.e. Sanballat and Tobiah). Because the Hebrew text is badly damaged, commentators have translated this phrase and the remainder of the passage variously (Blenkinsopp 1988: 246; Redditt 2014: 252). The Hebrew states, “The Judeans living alongside them came and said to us ten times ‘from all the places from which you returned against us.’” As the final phrase “against us” is emphatic, ten times over, it would appear that the speakers are projecting their own hostility onto Nehemiah’s workers. They are 85

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clearly seeking separation from Nehemiah and his supporters, but they show no signs of identifying with the Samarians or the Ammonites. Elsewhere Nehemiah complains that Judeans are marrying women from Ashdod (Neh 13:23–27), but here the issue is that their children speak a foreign language, not that they have begun to self-identify as people of Ashdod. The Book of Nehemiah challenges readers to consider acculturation as distinct from assimilation strictly understood.

Bibliography R. Doran, 2 Maccabees, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012). P. L. Redditt, Ezra-Nehemiah, Smith & Helwys Bible Commentary (Macon: Smith & Helwys, 2014). RICHARD J. BAUTCH

Related entries: Associations; Hellenism and Hellenization; Maccabees, Second Book of; Sectarianism; Seleucids.

Associations Known Groups.  Associations are social groups that form around a primary common interest. The history and nature of Second Temple Judaism has been illuminated by comparative analysis of discrete identifiable and frequently named groups that were formally constituted to facilitate the collective pursuit of a shared interest and whose members joined voluntarily. Evidence for such groups appears in particular abundance throughout the Mediterranean world during and after the eras of Hellenistic and Roman imperial expansion, as much in Judean societies as elsewhere. These include well-known groups defined by distinctive teachings and/or practices such as, e.g., Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, Therapeutae (Philo, Contempl.), the “Covenanters” of the Dead Sea Scrolls (e.g. CD A ii 2; vi 19; viii 21; xiii 14; CD B xix 33; 1QS i 7–8, 16; v 2–6; 4Q501 1.2, 7), “Christians” (Acts 11:26; 26:28); haberim (‫ )חברים‬mentioned in the Mishnah and Tosefta tractate Demai, and perhaps even the Hasideans mentioned in 1 and 2 Maccabees (1 Macc 2:42; 7:13; 2 Macc 14:6). In addition, one could mention those who were known mainly for habits of meeting for rites and fellowship in places of prayer (προσευχαί, proseuchai) and synagogues (συναγωγαί, synagōgai; cf. Harland 2003). Judean sources also show politically oriented groups such as the “Fourth Philosophy” (Josephus, Ant. 18.9, 23) and sicarioi (e.g. Ant. 20.186, 204, 208; J.W. 2.254; 4.516; 7.253–254) discussed by Josephus and the Herodianoi mentioned in the Gospel of Mark (Mark 3:6; 6:17, 19, 22; 12:13), as well as unnamed groups that formed around charismatic figures, including revolutionaries like “the Egyptian” (Ant. 20.171–172; J.W. 2.261–263) and Theudas (Ant. 20.97–98; Acts 5:36, 21:38) and ascetics like John the Baptist (Mark 1:4–9; 6:16–25 par; Josephus, Ant. 18.116–118) and Banus (Josephus, Life 11). Full accounting for associational activity must also include phenomena that generated immense varieties of collective action, but not necessarily formally constituted “voluntary associations,” e.g. the “Zealot movement.” Corollary associations and movements appear in non-Judean sources, from philosophical schools, drinking clubs, and professional guilds to cultic associations, “mutual aid societies,” and volunteer firefighter’s brigades. Features and Sociopolitical Context. The little and fragmentary extant evidence from associations themselves, along with reports from observers and centuries-old hearsay, shows a striking recurrence of formal features, which include obligation to observe by-laws or “nomoi”; 86

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authority shared between officers and “democratic” assemblies; initiation and periodic scrutiny of members; dues, special fees, and fines; communal meals and other meetings; devotion to a particular cult; connections to political sphere through individuals and/or institutions (for comparative tables, see Gillihan 2012: 513–24). Literary, legal, and archaeological evidence suggests that associations were assumed to be inevitable within any polis (Gillihan 2012: 65–132). They were generally seen to be compatible or complementary to existing arrangements of political power. In many cases they were regarded as contributing substantially to the civic life of the city, whether by arranging members’ burials or promoting orderly conduct—e.g. by paying bail for disorderly members, collecting taxes, maintaining cultic sites, co-sponsoring festivals, or promoting the legitimacy of the prevailing political order through public inscriptions and private announcements. Contrary to a common claim in scholarship on Judean associations, no general prohibition against voluntary associations can be found in any legal sources nor is there any general condemnation of their existence. Ancient historians report a few episodes of state action against specific associations, including temporary bans on the formation of new groups (e.g. Livy, Hist. 39.18; see further below). Invariably these actions occurred where social or political instability appeared or seemed imminent. In comparison to what is claimed, state measures seem temperate, precise, and intended to promote calm without provoking outrage. Well-established associations were usually exempt from prohibitions. If they were affected, it is not by way of a ban but by temporary prohibitions or restrictions on specific activities, convening assemblies of members above all. In other cases restrictions covered electing officers, celebrating rites, and keeping a common fund. Ancient evidence, especially inscriptions from associations themselves, suggests that local authorities and those in their circles usually welcomed and promoted most associational activity (cf. Gillihan 2012: 87–90). Nevertheless literary sources show consistent awareness that associations could be incubators of instability, especially dangerous in troubled times (Cotter 2002). This motivated suppression of those perceived to be potentially dangerous, whether because they were new, or known for secrecy, or had mainly foreign members, or had members who were poor and easily lured into new alliances by promises of material reward, etc. Major political changes predictably intensified interest in limiting associations’ destabilizing potential, as can be observed in Judea ca. 144 bce in Simon Maccabee’s prohibition of assemblies without his authorization (1 Macc 14:44). This is also the case in late Republican Rome in the senatus consultum that abolished collegia that appeared to be adversus rem publicam (Cicero, Pis. 8), in the restoration of these collegia and others that had political interests by the tribune Clodius’ Lex Clodia de Sodalitatibus, and in vigorous condemnations of Clodius by Cicero, Sallust, and others for recruiting urban collegia as muscle as he subverted normal political process (Cicero, Sest. 34; Sallust, Bell. Cat. 50.1). The contemporaneous appearance and long-term flourishing of “voluntary associations” with similar features deserves study in its own right. However, a majority of scholarly attention seeks to explain why Judean and Christian associations resemble others (see the discussion of scholarship in Gillihan 2012: 37–65). One common proposal, that a process of “influence” transmitted associational patterns from Hellenistic to Judean and Christian groups, must be correct in some cases, and should be tested where evidence allows. But its value is limited by the abstract form in which it usually appears, without attention to the vast linguistic, geographical, and temporal gulfs that separated associations with similar features, and without reference to specific routes of transmission or to alternative explanations that relate similar associational 87

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features to common cultural sources. Exploration of such sources seems likely to yield more plausible accounts both of the general historical phenomenon and of the history of specific groups. It has long been recognized that associations’ internal organization and regulation so consistently replicate that of the current political order that they appear to be miniature poleis or rei publicae. Some scholars speculate from this similarity that associational activity proliferated in response to the widespread decline of local political institutions, as though traditional contexts for collective activities were displaced from public to private spheres. This scenario seems possible in some contexts and should be tested in each case against evidence. It is impossible to recommend measures of associational activity as indicators of instability, however: many ancient Mediterranean associations (including several of Judean origin) persisted for centuries, with their continuing presence marking significant cultural, political, and economic continuity. Evidence from the Hasmonean era might suggest that improved stability and wealth promoted associational activity by allowing expenditures of time and energy on tasks other than survival and adaptation to new circumstances (Baumgarten 1998; Gillihan 2012: 505–6).

Bibliography A. Baumgarten, “Graeco-Roman Voluntary Associations and Ancient Jewish Sects,” Jews in a GraecoRoman World (1998), 93–111, 261–64. W. Cotter, “The Collegia and Roman Law. State Restrictions on Voluntary Associations, 64 bce to 200 ce,” in Voluntary Associations in the Graeco-Roman World, eds. J. S. Kloppenborg, S. G. Wilson (London: Routledge, 2002), 74–89. YONDER MOYNIHAN GILLIHAN

Related entries: Hellenism and Hellenization; Herodians; Josephus, Writings of; Romanization; Sectarianism; Sicarii; Zealots.

Astronomy and Astrology In ancient Mesopotamia astronomical knowledge was intrinsically linked with astrological predictions. In the Persian, Seleucid, and Parthian periods, cuneiform mathematical astronomy reached its highest development and evidently affected early Greek astronomy. Modern scholarly research has also demonstrated that Mesopotamian astrology exerted a considerable influence on Greek astrology (e.g. West 1999: 10–33). In the climate of intercultural contacts, when cuneiform language and culture were waning, some interest in astronomical and astrological knowledge arose in ancient Judaism, as attested in several compositions preserved from the 3rd, 2nd, and 1st centuries bce. Early Jewish tradition linked with the antediluvian patriarch Enoch created the so-called Astronomical Book attested in the Aramaic manuscripts from Qumran (4Q208–4Q211) and in the Ethiopic version (1 En. 72–82), which comes from a much later period. The latter contains more material than the fragmentary Aramaic manuscripts and only partially overlaps with Qumran Aramaic evidence. 4Q208, dated to the end of the 3rd or beginning of the 2nd century bce, firmly proves that Jewish astronomical/astrological interest began early. Analysis of its contents has led scholars to the conviction that the type of schematic knowledge attested in the Astronomical Book is related to early Babylonian schematic astronomy/astrology, mainly confirmed in astrolabes, MUL.APIN, and the Enūma Anu Enlil astrological series, along with some other cuneiform texts of astrological character (Ben Dov 2008; Drawnel 2011).

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Using highly formulaic language, most of 4Q208 and 4Q209 describe the movement of the moon in the sky in a two-month schematic cycle. Each nychthemeron (24-hour period) is divided into four parts that measure, by means of a system of fraction notations, periods of the presence, or absence, of the moon in the sky during the day and night. Thus the intended goal of the whole process is the calculation of periods of lunar visibility on the nocturnal and diurnal sky. The schematic description of each nychthemeron also includes one column which measures the illumination of the lunar disc during the day (waxing period) and during the night (waning period). Although the calculation contains a few textual insertions that mention the sun, it is dedicated to the moon and cannot be called a “synchronistic calendar” based on the movement of the moon and the sun. The comparison of the calculation of periods of lunar visibility in 4Q208 and 4Q209 with tablet 14 of the cuneiform Enūma Anu Enlil astrological series shows that the basic pattern of the schematic monthly calculation present in the two Jewish manuscripts from Qumran is closely related to the Mesopotamian schematic calculation of periods of lunar visibility during the equinoctial month attested in the Sumero-Akkadian text. It is not immediately evident how the Aramaic texts were used and what their intended goal was. The lunar schematic calculation may have served as a manual of basic astronomical training in the movement of the moon. In contradistinction to the Enūma Anu Enlil series, the connection with astrology is not immediately evident, perhaps because of the fragmentary state of the manuscripts. Lunar data are discussed in some liturgical texts from Qumran (4Q317; 4Q320, 4Q321, 4Q321a, 4Q503) as well. The meaning of the term dwq (‫ ;דוק‬4Q321; 4Q321a) expressing a lunar phenomenon has been extensively discussed, but the fragmentary context in which it is found precludes one from an unequivocal interpretation. The Ethiopic Astronomical Book (1 En. 72–82) contains astronomical and calendrical knowledge revealed by the angel Uriel to Enoch, and according to 1 Enoch 72:1 the movement of the moon, sun, and stars shall last until the “new creation.” The book does not possess apocalyptic content, though, and its schematic calculations concerning the sun, moon, stars, meteorology, and the length of the year in some points cannot be properly interpreted without taking into consideration the schematic character of the astronomical phenomena apparent in the early phases of Babylonian astronomy. The transmission of astronomical knowledge from father/ teacher to son/disciple (1 En. 81:5–6; 82:1–3) suggests the sapiential or scribal milieu in which this type of knowledge functioned. A fragmentary calculation of lunar visibility in 1 Enoch 73:4–8 is plainly related to the same schematic presentation of lunar data in 4Q208 and 4Q209. The Enochic year, composed of twelve 30-day months to which four days were added (1 En. 72:35; 74:10a, 11; 75:1b), is based on the 360-day year attested in cuneiform sources. Chapter 72 describes the rising and setting of the sun each month in a different “gate” within the twelve-month scheme, with six “gates” on the eastern horizon and six “gates” on the western horizon; the “gates” denote the fixed arcs of the horizon related to the rising and setting amplitude of the sun during the year. Calculations for the changing length of day and night throughout the year are included in the same chapter. The ratio 2:1 or 1:2 for the length of day and night on the solstices does not correspond to the geographic latitude of Israel and must be considered a schematic presentation of the data not related to the actual astronomical reality. The same schematic ratio in relation to Mesopotamia, also not corresponding to the actual astronomical data, is found in cuneiform astronomical/astrological literature. The linear pattern for the variation of the length of daylight in the same chapter (1 En. 72) appears to be related to the linear zigzag function in the schematic Babylonian astronomy, without any reference to the sophisticated astronomy of the Seleucid and Parthian periods. The 89

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schematic divisions of the earth and sky in 1 Enoch 76–77, and the meteorological phenomena described therein, are related to Babylonian astrological texts as well. Other texts from Qumran attest to astrological interest (Popović 2007). The Aramaic 4Q318 (4QZodiology and Brontology ar) describes the movement of the moon through the twelve zodiacal signs (beginning with Taurus) and predicts future events on the basis of thunder occurring in a particular zodiacal sign. Its connection with the same type of astrological literature (tablet 44 of the Akkadian omen series Enūma Anu Enlil) in ancient Mesopotamia is commonly assumed. The fragmentary 4Q186 (4QZodiacal Physiognomy ar), written with a mixture of Proto-Hebrew, Greek, and cryptic alphabets, relates the physiognomic description with likely astrological and horoscopic terminology: for instance, numerical values connected to an ʿamud (‫)עמוד‬, the “house of light” and the “pit of darkness” in relation to the “portions of the rûaḥ (‫)רוח‬,” and the sign of the zodiac at the birth of an individual together with the prediction of his future fate. 4Q561 (4QPhysiognomy ar) contains physiognomic descriptions of the human body. The fragmentary Aramaic 4Q534 and 4Q535 (4QBirth of Noaha-b ar) describe the body of an individual, but their astrological character is not certain.

Bibliography M. L. West, The East Face of Helicon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). HENRYK DRAWNEL

Related entries: Calendars; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Parthians; Persian Period; Persian Religion; Seleucids; Stars; Sun and Moon.

Athletics Greek athletics were performed in the gymnasium in Jerusalem during the reign of Antiochus IV Epiphanes (1 Macc 1:14; 2 Macc 4:9, 12; and 4 Macc 4:20), however there is no evidence that such activities continued in the city or that the building stood after the Hasmonean conquest of Judea. In contrast to the Hasmonean period, and wishing to maintain a positive rapport with Rome and to integrate Roman cultural patterns into his realm, Herod the Great (37–4 bce) was the first to establish games in the East and to build structures that would house athletic competitions, artistic performances, horse and chariot races (each chariot harnessed to either two or four horses), and other types of shows. His inauguration of festivals and competitions in Jerusalem (Josephus, Ant. 15.268–275) and Caesarea (Ant. 16.136–140; J.W. 1.415) every fifth year culturally integrated traditions from East and West (van Henten 2008; Weiss 2014: 14–20). The agonistic competitions—about which Josephus reveals nothing apart from their existence—were divided, according to the Olympic tradition, by age group (children, youth, and adults) and included foot-races of various lengths, hoplite races (foot-races in full or partial armor), the pentathlon, wrestling, boxing, and the pankration (a combined form of boxing and wrestling). There were also musical performances and plays, to which Herod added, for the first time, Roman spectacles wherein animals were pitted against one another or against humans who were condemned to death (Ant. 15.273–274). In an attempt to attract the best competitors for these prize-winning games, the king offered large prizes (money or expensive gifts) “not only to the winners in gymnastic games but also to those who engaged in music and those who are called θυμελικοῖς (thymelikois)” as well as to “drivers of four-horse and two-horse chariots and to those mounted on race-horses” (Ant. 15.270–271). 90

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The introduction of athletic games created a new reality in ancient Palestine. The cultural patterns that Herod introduced were adopted by the inhabitants of the Hellenistic cities in the region, but apparently not by the entire Jewish population, at least in Jerusalem. Jews expressed their objection from the very outset, with the completion of the theater’s construction in Jerusalem (Ant. 15.274–276), but, on the basis of the extant sources, it is difficult to determine whether local Jews in other cities attended the games in the Herodian period and whether the criticism voiced in Jerusalem reflected the attitude of the Jewish population at large, of Josephus, or of his sources (cf. Weiss 2014: 52–54).

Bibliography J. W. van Henten, “The Panegyris in Jerusalem: Responses to Herod’s Initiative (Josephus, Antiquities 15:268– 291),” in Empsychoi Logoi—Religious Innovations in Antiquity: Studies in Honour of Pieter Willem van der Horst, ed. A. Houtman, A. de Jong, and M. Misset-van de Weg (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2008), 151–73. ZEEV WEISS

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Caesarea Maritima; Entertainment Structures; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herod the Great; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabean Revolt; Romanization.

Atonement Vocabulary.  The term “atonement” presupposes a fundamental separation between the human realm, which is profane, and the divine sphere, which is holy, so as to propose concepts and institutions of mediation and reconciliation. “Atonement” is a common modern translation of the Hebrew root ‫( כפר‬kpr). Alternative translations are “expiation” (conveying aspects of purification) or “propitiation” (conveying aspects of interpersonal appeasement). Connoting all of these aspects as well as that of “covering,” the Hebrew root ‫( כפר‬kpr) occurs approximately 149 times in the Hebrew Bible. Its Akkadian equivalents, kapāru/kuppuru, mean “to clean” and “to smear.” The Septuagint renders the verb ‫ כפר‬piʾel (kipper; on which see Maass 1997) most frequently with the idiosyncratic composite ἐξιλάσκομαι (exilaskomai, 83 times) and the simplex ἱλάσκομαι (hilaskomai; Pss 65:4; 78:38; 79:9); it also uses ἵλεως γίγνομαι (hileōs gignomai) “to become merciful” (Deut 21:8). Associations to “sanctification” and “purification” are manifest in equivalents such as ἁγιάζω (hagiazō) (Exod 29:33, 36), καθαρίζω (katharizō) (29:37; 30:10), ἐκκαθαρίζω (ekkatharizō) (Deut 32:43), περικαθαρίζω (perikatharizō) (Isa 6:7), and καθαρòς γίγνομαι (katharos gignomai) (Isa 47:11). The verbs ἀφίημι (aphiēmi) (Isa 22:14) and ἀθῳόω (athōoō) (Jer 18:23) convey “forgiveness, acquittal,” ἀφαιρέω (aphaireō) (Isa 27:9) and ἀπαλείφω (apaleiphō) (Dan 9:24) general removal. The Hebrew root ‫( כפר‬kpr) is important in Hebrew Bible narratives and ritual texts, yet its Greek equivalents occur less frequently in New Testament texts. Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Texts.  According to the Hebrew Bible, sin and impurity separate humans from God. Sin and impurity are considered a personal burden, but have a further consequence in that they defile the sanctuary where God resides (Lev 15:31; 16:16). Thus in Second Temple Judaism, certain sacrificial rituals were performed to ensure the regular elimination of sin and impurity (though other types of ritual sacrifice could be offered also to express personal devotion and gratitude to God). During the sin offering, animal blood was applied to various parts of the sanctuary (Lev 4; 16:14–19). Thought to represent the animal’s 91

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life, the blood achieved “atonement” and “forgiveness” for the offerer (17:11). Sacrificial food purified humans (8:23–24, 30; 14:14) or the sanctuary (8:15; 16:16, 19, 20) from sin and impurities. Furthermore, certain parts of each type of sacrifice (2:2, 9; 3:3–5, 9–11; 4:8–10, 19–20; etc.) or the sacrifice in its entirety (1:9, 13, 17) were burned on the main altar, rendering each type of sacrifice an “offering for YHWH” (‫קרבן ליהוה‬, qorbān lʾAdonai) who granted humans forgiveness or blessings (Exod 20:24; Lev 1:4, 9; 4:31; 16:24–25; see also Num 16:46–47 ET). Textual evidence from the Second Temple period confirms that these different types of sacrifice were still in practice then, albeit on occasion with slight ritual variations (cf. Bar 1:10; 1 Macc 1:45; 11QTa xiii–xxx; xxxvii 5, 10–14; xxxviii 4–6; lx 7; CD A xi 18–19; 1QM ii 5). The Hebrew root ‫( כפר‬kpr), however, also occurs in Hebrew Bible texts that describe interpersonal appeasement (Gen 32:20 ET; Prov 16:14), give advice to cope with iniquity (Prov 16:6), and contain regulations for reparation payments (Exod 30:15; Num 31:50) or purification through retaliation (2 Sam 21:1–9). In some of these cases, payments, ransoms, tributes, or gifts (Hebrew ‫כֹּפֶר‬, kophar) were required to achieve the desired effect, and sometimes undisputed behavior such as honoring one’s parents and almsgiving could function in this way (e.g. Sir 3:3; 20:28, with ἐξιλάσκομαι, exilaskomai). Qumran scrolls describe a council of the community composed of twelve men that was expected to attain atonement on behalf of the larger community through personal righteousness and the study of scripture (1QS viii 6–7; ix 4). In addition, individuals praise God’s readiness to atone (1QHa xii 38), while angels can be thought to appease God’s will for the sake of those who repent of wrongdoing (4Q400 1 i 16). Remarkably, writings in the New Testament as a whole feature only six occurrences of Greek equivalents of Hebrew ‫( כפר‬kpr): ἱλάσκομαι (hilaskomai)—“to atone” (Luke 18:13; Heb 2:17), ἱλαστήριον (hilastērion)—“(place of) atonement” (Rom 3:25; Heb 9:5), and ἱλασμός (hilasmos)— “atonement” (1 John 2:2; 4:10; Eberhart 2013: 157–77). The frequent and distinctive Hebrew Bible term used in the Greek translation tradition, ἐξιλάσκομαι (exilaskomai), does not occur at all, and ἱλάσκομαι (hilaskomai) is absent from the New Testament Gospels (exception: Luke 18:13 which is not in any Christological context). While early Christian texts, therefore, put less emphasis on atonement, they nevertheless retain atonement terminology conceptually. Thus Jesus Christ, the ἱλαστήριον (hilastērion) or ἱλασμός (hilasmos), purifies humans through his blood (Rom 3:25; 1 John 1:7; 2:2). Probably referencing cultic atonement traditions, Jesus called a cup of wine the “blood of the covenant” during his Last Supper (Mark 14:24), implying that the sins of whoever drinks from it are purged (see the later addition in Matt 26:28). In early Christianity, however, salvation also was conveyed by means of secular images and concepts, such as redemption (Rom 3:24; Eph 1:7), reconciliation (Rom 5:10–11; 11:15; 2 Cor 5:18–20) and the concept of Christ’s substitutionary death (John 11:50–52; Rom 5:6, 8; 14:15; 1 Cor 15:3; Eberhart 2011b: 36–38).

Bibliography C. A. Eberhart, “Atonement: I. Hebrew Bible/Old Testament,” EBR 3 (2011a): 24–32. C. A. Eberhart, “Atonement: II. New Testament,” EBR 3 (2011b): 32–42. C. A. Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik und Christologie: Opfer- und Sühneterminologie im Neuen Testament, WUNT 306 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). F. Maass, “‫ כפר‬pi. to atone,” TLOT 2 (1997): 624–35. CHRISTIAN A. EBERHART

Related entries: Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Hebrews, Epistle to the; Holiness; Purification and Purity; Repentance; Sacrifices and Offerings. 92

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Babel, Tower of The account of the building and ultimate destruction of the Tower of Babel (Gen 11:1–9) was a particularly useful narrative for Jewish authors during the Second Temple period. The biblical text itself is famously ambiguous regarding the motivation of the builders of the city and Tower and the reason for the divine displeasure and intervention. The location of the narrative as a bridge between the universal history contained in Genesis 1–11 and the particular and national history of Genesis 12 and following encouraged Jewish authors and interpreters to utilize the story to debate the challenges of being Israel in the midst of larger cultural traditions. A number of Jewish works from the Second Temple period retell the story of the Tower of Babel as part of their larger work. In each case, the author sees in the narrative of Babel a reflection of contemporary challenges and questions facing the larger Jewish community in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Composed in the mid-2nd century bce, the Book of Jubilees (10:18–26), that is, its retelling of Babel, focuses on the final confusion of languages and adds a note concerning the preservation of the language of Hebrew as the language of divine revelation and knowledge. The God of Israel commands the angelic narrator to “open his [Abram’s] mouth and ears to hear and speak in the revealed language” (Jub. 12:25). Only the line of Abraham and his descendants have access to the ancient and traditional knowledge preserved in this language. The diversity of Babel separates the other nations of the world from Jewish knowledge (Sherman 2013: 97–120). A contemporary tradition preserved in two fragmentary citations of the 1st-century bce Alexander Polyhistor in Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 9.17.2; 9.18.2) links a post-diluvian “tower” to the activities of “giants” and a certain Belos. In a stark difference from Jubilees, the giant called “Belos,” who builds and inhabits the tower is described as being the ancestor of Abraham. Whereas in the former case, the building of the tower is linked to “impiety” and is therefore destroyed, in the latter there is no mention of its destruction (Holladay 1983: 157–87 on Pseudo-Eupolemos). The Liber antiquitatum biblicarum of Pseudo-Philo (LAB) contains a very expansive version of the Tower narrative (chapter 6). The story includes a recalcitrant Abram who refuses to participate in the construction of the Tower. He chooses, rather, to remain faithful to the will of God, even in the face of potential martyrdom. In this narrative, he compares favorably to other semi-faithful Jews who go along with the building plans, despite their reservations (Sherman 2013: 121–52). Philo of Alexandria’s treatise On the Confusion of Tongues characteristically provides an allegorical reading. Philo views the story of Babel as a narrative of every human soul keeping all of its various parts in harmony in the pursuit of divine truth. The Jewish historian Josephus rewrites the account of Babel in light of the destruction of the Jewish Temple by the Romans in 70 ce (Ant. 1.109–119; cf. Inowlocki 2006). The builders of Babel fall under the spell of Nimrod, who is presented in Greek political language as the prototypical tyrant. The story of Babel becomes a cautionary tale about rebellion against the will of God during a tumultuous era of Jewish history.

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Finally, 3 Baruch 3:1–8 (both Greek and Slavonic) retells the narrative, emphasizing that the tower was built by demonic powers (with possible indications that they were giants; cf. Kulik 2010: 137–55; however, Sherman 2013: 204). It also adds the detail that the tower had been built to a height of 463 cubits when God put a stop to the project (cf. further Sherman 2013: 195–216).

Bibliography S. Inowlocki, “Josephus’ rewriting of the Babel narrative (Gen 11:1–9),” JSJ 37.2 (2006): 169–91. P. Sherman, Babel’s Tower Translated: Genesis 11 and ancient Jewish Interpretation (Leiden: Brill, 2013). PHILIP MICHAEL SHERMAN

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Judgment; Multilingualism; Sin.

Babylonian Culture Babylonia was an ancient Akkadian-speaking state and cultural region based in central-southern Mesopotamia. The Akkadian Empire, founded by Sargon I, was an important economic and cultural center from the 24th century bce. The Old Babylonian Empire (20th–17th cent. bce) reached its zenith under Hammurapi (18th cent. bce). Following the sack of Babylon by the Hittites in 1595, the rule of the Cassite dynasty (17th–15th cent. bce) brought a rebirth to the country. Babylon remained a religious and scribal center during the Middle Assyrian Empire (1365–1020 bce) while often subject to and dominated by Assyria, as well as during the Neo-Assyrian period (911–616 bce) during which Assyrian dominance perpetuated (Saggs 2000: 95–112). During a short but very important time in the Neo-Babylonian (Chaldean) Empire (626–539 bce), Babylon again became the major power in the region of Mesopotamia and, indeed, in much of the civilized world (Saggs 2000: 153–75; Arnold 2004: 87–106). Successful military campaigns in Syria, Phoenicia, and Asia Minor by its greatest king Nebuchadnezzar II (605– 562) brought to the country tributes and immense human resources and products. Following the conquest of Judah (586 bce), thousands of Jews were transferred to Babylonia. Sources from the Neo-Babylonian era witness the presence of considerable West Semitic and Judean elements in Babylonia, among them the Judean settlement Al Yahudu (“Judean city”; Pearce and Wunsch 2014). Nebuchadnezzar’s building activity rendered Babylon a fabulous capital. Herodotus (Hist. 1.141–216) depicts its giant ziggurat, the 50 temples, the immense city walls, and the hanging gardens of the palace—several of them mentioned among the Seven Wonders of the World (Oppenheim 1977: 109–25). The chief god of the empire was Marduk (Schneider 2011: 51–66), god of the city of Babylon. The New Year festival for Marduk—during which the creation myth Enuma Elish was recited—was intended to assure fertility in the fields (Schneider 2011: 101–16). The Neo-Babylonian Empire was conquered by Cyrus the Great in 539 bce. Until the end of the Achaemenid Empire in 332 bce Babylon remained a major city. With the Seleucid Empire a new capital named Seleucia was built on the Tigris, and Babylon lost its importance. Until the Arab conquest Babylon belonged to the Parthian and Sasanian Empires. Beginning with the 7th–6th centuries bce, Aramaic had become the everyday tongue in Babylonia; Persian rulers rendered Aramaic a language of the royal administration. Aramaic was a vehicle of cultural transfer of Mesopotamian literature and scholarship for the Judean exile whose language had also become Aramaic. Jewish Aramaic writings originating from the NeoBabylonian and Persian periods reveal a strong Mesopotamian background (Fröhlich 1996: 11–67). 94

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The Aramaic chapters of the Book of Daniel (Dan 2–7) reflect a good acquaintance with the Babylonian traditions of the interpretation of dreams and omina as well as the methods and terms used. Fragments of an Aramaic Enochic collection (mostly identical with 1 Enoch) from Qumran represent a continuous manuscript tradition beginning with the end of the 3rd century bce. The collection—and to some degree, the related Book of Giants—reflects an awareness of Babylonian astronomy and calendrical systems (cf. Steele 2011), lists of interpretation of omina, and Babylonian demonology. The Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242) reflects reminiscences of Babylonian historical legends. Literature in the Hebrew Bible mentions historical facts of the Persian conquest of Babylonia (Isa 45:1; 46:1–2). Ezekiel, the “prophet of the exile,” draws on Babylonian visionary tradition and cosmological lore (Ezek 1 and 10). Genesis mentions Babel along with Erech, Akkad, and Kalneh, attributing them to the building enterprises of Nimrod (Gen 10:8–10). Narratives of Genesis 1–11 expound themes of the literary discourse of the Neo-Babylonian age. Narratives on themes like the creation, Eden, the fall, and the flood reflect a familiarity with Babylonian mythological and narrative literature (Dalley 2000); at the same time they are particularized from a definite Judean perspective. Genesis 11, the narrative on the Tower of Babel, refers to the ziggurat of Babylon Etemenanki, while Ur of the Chaldees from which Abraham comes is a reference to the city of the Neo-Babylonian era.

Bibliography B. T. Arnold, Who Were the Babylonians? (Leiden: Brill, 2004). S. Dalley, Myths from Mesopotamia, Creation, the Flood, Gilgamesh, and Others, Oxford’s World Classics, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). H. W. F. Saggs, Babylonians (London: British Museum Press, 2000). T. J. Schneider, An Introduction to Ancient Mesopotamian Religion (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011). J. M. Steele, “Making Sense of Time: Observational and Theoretical Calendars,” in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture, ed. K. Radner and E. Robson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 470–85. IDA FRÖHLICH

Related entries: Astronomy and Astrology; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Calendars; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Parthians; Persian Period.

Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians The Fertile Crescent was the cradle of civilization and a center of sociopolitical and economic power from the end of the 4th millennium bce. Some two centuries after 2000 bce, it came under the control of Babylon, which dominated and shaped the region until the final third of the 1st millennium bce, when it was conquered by Alexander the Great. Background.  “Babylonians” came to inhabit Mesopotamia (the land “between the rivers” in Greek) located at the eastern edge of the Fertile Crescent, between the Tigris and the Euphrates rivers. Though their roots extend to early in the 3rd millennium bce, the Babylonians gained prominence as they swallowed up other city-states (Saggs 1962: 60–82) in the establishment of the First Babylonian Dynasty (1830–1531 bce). The group established its religious center in Babylon, which became known as a “holy city” and where the main Babylon god—Marduk— became the most important deity of the pantheon. 95

Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians

Centuries later, Babylon, along with all of south Mesopotamia, fell under the influence, and sometimes control, of the Neo-Assyrian Empire (911–605 bce). By 729 bce the Assyrian Tiglathpileser extended his rule directly over Babylon as “King of Assur, King of Babylon, King of Sumer and Akkad.” Despite attempts to revolt, Babylon remained under Assyrian sway through the kingships of Shalmaneser V (727–722 bce) and Sargon II (722–705 bce). This is the backdrop to the story of the Babylonian king’s delegation to Judah in the days of Hezekiah (2 Kgs 20:12– 19; Isa 39:1–8; 2 Chr 32:31). A new revolt soon broke out in Babylon under the next Assyrian king, Sennacherib (705–681 bce), who conquered and destroyed Babylon in 689 bce in order to gain a final resolution to the “Babylonian problem.” Since the Assyrians regarded Babylon as a sacred city, Sennacherib’s action was considered a crime; when Sennacherib was murdered by his sons in Nineveh, the new Assyrian king Esarhaddon (681–669 bce) ruled Babylon and attempted to rebuild the city. Even so, the repeated Assyrian attempts to rule in Babylonia triggered a renewed Babylonian understanding that only a confederation of cities and tribes would be strong enough to withstand Assyrian might. Such a confederation was established when the rule of Nabopolassar (658–605 bce) was recognized by most of the cities of Babylonia. After leading several battles against the Assyrians, he officially ascended the throne in 626 bce. This concluded an era when, according to the Babylonian chronicles, “there was no king in the land” (Wiseman 1961; Grayson 1975: 17–18), and it marked the beginning of the Neo-Babylonian Empire. Nabopolassar established a pact with Umakištar (Kyaxares), king of the Medes, which would deal the final blow to Assyria within a few years. When the Assyrian Empire disappeared, direct contact was opened between Babylon and Egypt, inaugurating an era during which both empires struggled for control of the Fertile Crescent. Nabopolassar was followed by his son Nebuchadnezzar II (605–562 bce), whose 43-year reign made Babylon a strong empire marked by a number of impressive building projects (Wiseman 1983). In the early years of rule, Nebuchadnezzar managed to conquer the entire Levant, though he failed to defeat Egypt (601 bce). After a few years of instability, during which Judah rebelled and the young king Jehoiachin was deported to Babylon with thousands of Judah’s elite, Nebuchadnezzar conquered the remaining small kingdoms of the region (Judah, Edom, Ammon, Moab, the Phoenician cities), which led to the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 bce, when many of its inhabitants were deported. The Persian Period until the Conquest of Alexander the Great.  Nebuchadnezzar was followed by a series of kings who reigned for short periods. The last Babylonian king was Nabonidus (556–539 bce). Soon after his accession to the throne, a court struggle broke out with the local Babylonian priesthood, resulting in Nabonidus’ ten-year exile in Teima, though his son Belshazzar remained in control of Babylon. During this period, Cyrus the Great, the Achaemenid Persian “king of Anshan” in Elam, established himself at the Medes’ capital of Ecbatana; putting an end to the Median Empire, he created an empire east of Babylon. After Nabonidus returned to Babylon in 543 bce, Cyrus invaded Babylonia (539 bce) and on the 16th day of Tammuz, his soldiers entered Babylon, being welcomed there with the cooperation of the priests. Cyrus became the legitimate king of Babylon; under Persian rule Babylon flourished as an administrative center as well as a center of art and education. The Persians maintained the city’s greatness, and Babylonian mathematics, cosmology, and astronomy were highly respected. 96

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Babylon was the capital of the Persian satrapy named “Babylon and Ebir-nari” and maintained its political importance. When Alexander the Great conquered the Persian Empire in 331, he treated the city with the utmost respect. His sudden death, however, inaugurated a 200-year period of decline under Seleucid kings. Many of Babylon’s citizens were forced to move to the new capital, Seleucia, on the Tigris River, 90 km north of Babylon. Even when Babylon lost its status, its temples continued to exist at least until the 1st century bce. The city was captured by the Parthians ca. 124 bce, and though the religious function of the Esagila temple was maintained for several years, the city was left in ruins. Hebrew Bible and Late Second Temple Writings.  The legacy of Babylon as an ancient power (cf. Oates 1986) and its perception as a threat to Israel and the people of God is clearly attested in the Hebrew Bible and then, symbolically, during the late Second Temple period. Both the prophets Isaiah (21:9) and Jeremiah (51:8) announce the destruction of Babylon, linking it to divine judgment for idolatry practiced there. Indeed, Babylon, as the place of exile for Judeans after the destruction of the First Temple in 587 bce, was widely described as a place deserving of retribution (Ps 137:8; Isa 13–14; 47:1; 48:14; Jer 25:12; 28:2–4; 50–51), though at the same time, Babylon’s conquest of Jerusalem could be regarded as divine punishment for the faithlessness attributed to the Judean monarchy (esp. Jer 20:4–6; 21:7–10; 22:25; 25:9, 11). The more one-sided association of Babylon with idolatry fed its function as a symbol for evil in apocalyptic texts from the late Second Temple period (Bauckham 1993: 335–452). At this time, “Babylon” became a derogatory designation for the Roman Empire (4 Ezra 3:1, 28, 31 and texts below) where the faithful dwell (cf. 1 Pet 5:13) and the punishment of which was longed for by Jews and Jewish-Christians such as the authors of the Book of Revelation (14:8; 17:2, 4; 18:2–3, 10, 21), 2 Baruch (11:1; 67:7), and Sibylline Oracles (at 5.159). The anticipation of destruction for Babylon (= Rome) is especially poignant in Revelation, which draws on language in the announcements thereof in Isaiah 21:9 (cf. also Jer 51:7–8), again for its associations with idolatry (Rev 14:8; 18:2–3). Thus, readers are summoned to “come out” of Babylon (Rev 18:4–5)—i.e., they should not participate in its economic luxuries and socioreligious institutions lest that lead to compromise and unfaithfulness to God. This exhortation echoes the language of separation frequently found among the prophets (esp. Jer 51:45; cf. 50:8; 51:6, 9; Isa 48:20; 52:11).

Bibliography A. K. Grayson, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles, Texts from Cuneiform Sources 5 (New York: J.J. Augustin, 1975). J. Oates, Babylon, 2nd ed. (London: Thames & Hudson, 1986). G. Roux, Ancient Iraq, 3rd ed. (New York: Penguin, 1992). H. W. F. Saggs, The Greatness that was Babylon (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1962). D. J. Wiseman, Chronicles of the Chaldean Kings (626–556 B.C.) (London: British Museum, 1961). D. J. Wiseman, Nebuchadnezzar and Babylon, The Schweich Lectures (London: British Museum, 1983). ODED LIPSCHITS

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Babylonian Culture; Baruch, Second Book of; Exile; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Idols and Images; Jewish Christianity; Judgment; Kings, Books of; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Persian Period; Persian Religion; Peter, Epistles of; Restoration.

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Baruch

Bar Kokhba Revolt—see Revolt, Second Jewish (pt 4) Bar Kokhba Caves—see Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters; pt 4) Baruch Revered for his scribal service and devotion to the prophet Jeremiah, “Baruch, son of Neriah” first appears in biblical traditions (Jer 32:12–16; 36:4: 45:1–5) at the time of the Babylonian deportation of Judah (Jer 39:1–18; 52:6–13; 2 Kgs 25:1–22). He came into the same ignominy and hardship as his famed mentor, leading to an uncertain but lamentable fate far removed from his supposed aristocratic and educated background (Jer 45:3). He compiled two scrolls of prophecies: one for the king of Judah, which was later burned, and the other for the possession of Jeremiah; this latter scroll may be the core of the biblical book of Jeremiah. Baruch’s role as Jeremiah’s scribe may be the reason he is cited as the author of several sequels to the book of Jeremiah. When Jeremiah was forced to flee from Jerusalem to Egypt in the aftermath of the Babylonian invasion, Baruch accompanied him. This is the last-mentioned abode for Baruch in the Hebrew Bible, though Jeremiah elsewhere in his book promises that Baruch would survive the general turmoil, living life as a refugee (Jer 45:5; Wright 2003: 1–69; Henze 2011: 87–126). According to Jerome (Comm. Isa. 9.30:7a), Baruch shared the fate of Jeremiah, who presumably died in Egypt. Later Jewish sources disagree. Rabbinic authorities assume that Baruch went to Babylon (S. ‘Olam Rab. 26; Midr. Rab. Song 5.5; b. Meg. 16b). It is here that the Septuagint locates him in Baruch 1:1. Under Baruch’s nom de plume this book is an assortment of writings intended to encourage the scattered people of Israel in the centuries following the Babylonian invasion. An even later book called Second Baruch or the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch (preserved wholly in Codex Ambrosianus and partially in ancient Syriac liturgies) shows the scribe speaking, praying, and writing mainly in the environs of Jerusalem just as the Babylonians are on the verge of conquering Jerusalem. In this text Baruch overshadows his master, with Jeremiah going off to Babylon, leaving Baruch to dominate the rest of the book with his visions, prayers, and instructions. The focus of Baruch’s ministry in Jerusalem is the training of the surviving elders, but he increasingly addresses larger audiences, first the remaining residents of the city and then the people scattered in the diaspora. He reaches the latter group through a letter that concludes the book (Wright 2003: 70–112). Other spurious books (and parts of books) attributed to Baruch have appeared in many languages, including Latin, Greek, Syriac, Hebrew, and Arabic (Wright 2003: 113–21).

Bibliography See General Bibliography. MARK F. WHITTERS

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Ascent into Heaven; Baruch, Book of; Baruch, Second Book of; Baruch, Third Book of; Baruch, Fourth Book of; Dream and Vision Reports; Jeremiah and Lamentations; Prophets, Texts Associated with; Scribes and Scribalism.

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Baths

Baths At the onset of the Second Temple period, specialized structures built solely for washing one’s body were uncommon. Instead, people relied upon natural sources of water such as springs and streams, while more wealthy individuals made use of basins and tubs made of materials such as copper or clay, a practice originating in the Bronze and Iron Ages (Hoss 2005: 92). It is not until the mid-2nd century bce, with the introduction of Hellenistic bathing practices and architectural forms to Judea, that rooms containing plastered bathtubs and pools for bathing were constructed within larger buildings, specifically villas and palaces of the Judean elite. The paucity of literary evidence regarding baths and bathing during the Second Temple period causes some scholars to draw upon much later mishnaic and talmudic sources. The problematic nature of this approach (Hoss 2005: 64–77) suggests that firmer ground is offered by archaeological remains of baths in Judea from the Second Temple period, even though evidence is incomplete. The relatively sudden arrival of Hellenistic baths upon the architectural landscape of Judea appears to coincide with that of miqvaʾot (ritual immersion baths), and the two were frequently built within the same complexes (Reich 1988: 104). The earliest datable archaeological evidence in Judea for a bath complex featuring both types comes from the Hasmonean palaces in Jericho (Netzer 2001a: 38–43; 50; 303–04). Dated to ca. 125 bce during the reign of John Hyrcanus I (134–104 bce) by its excavator, the so-called “Buried Palace” featured a room (ca. 3.0 × 3.0 m) with a single plastered “Greek-style” bathtub, two large swimming pools, and a miqvah located nearby (Netzer 2001b: 16–20; Fig. 14). Subsequent palaces built at Jericho under the Hasmoneans and, later, Herod followed this same design (identified by Netzer as the “Judeo-Hellenistic” type [Netzer 1999: 48–49]). The inclusion of both non-ritual and ritual baths in the palaces may have allowed the Hasmonean rulers to publicly embrace the trappings of Hellenistic royalty while maintaining religious purity in the eyes of their Jewish subjects (Steen-Fatkin 2007: 57). Under Herod the Great (40–4 bce), new Italic designs and technological advancements were introduced likely as a direct result of Herod’s exposure to Roman baths and bathing practices prior to his ascension to the throne. Like his Hasmonean predecessors, Herod installed these new “Roman-style” baths in his numerous private palace complexes, i.e. Masada, Herodion, Jericho, Cypros, and Machaerus, rather than as public bathing facilities in the Roman fashion (Netzer 1999: 45; see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). These Herodian bathhouses followed a standard room arrangement typical of Roman baths featuring an apodyterium or changing room, frigidarium or cold bathing room (which according to Netzer may have served as a miqvah), tepidarium or warm bathing room, caldarium or hot bathing room, and occasionally a laconicum/sudatorium or dry sweat room. The caldaria in all of Herod’s baths featured a hypocaust heating system with a raised floor or suspensura resting on brick columns called pilae (Figure 4.14). The inclusion of this specific technological aspect typifying Roman baths clearly illustrates Herodian bathhouses, dependence on this newly imported Italic model, a point further highlighted by their sumptuous decoration and adornment with mosaics and frescoes. Despite their introduction by Herod and other Jewish elites in the last half of the 1st century bce, Roman baths and the ritual of public bathing did not become prevalent until after the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce. The exact reasons for this are uncertain, but Reich has reasonably argued that certain Roman bathing practices, nudity e.g., stood in opposition to halakah or Jewish

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Figure 4.14  Caldarium in Herod’s bathhouse at Masada.

religious law (Reich 1988). In any case, by the later 3rd and 4th century these apparent aversions were no longer of great consequence.

Bibliography S. Hoss, Baths and Bathing: The Culture of Bathing and the Baths and Thermae in Palestine from the Hasmoneans to Moslem Conquest, British Archaeological Reports International Series 1346 (Oxford: Archeopress, 2005). E. Netzer, “Herodian Bath-houses,” in Roman Baths and Bathing: Proceedings of the first international congress on Roman baths held at Bath, England, 30 March—4 April 1992, Part 1: Bathing and Society, ed. J. DeLaine and D. E. Johnston, JRAS 37 (Portsmouth: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1999), 45–55. E. Netzer, Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho: Final Reports of the 1973–1987 Excavations. Volume I: Stratigraphy and Architecture (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2001a). E. Netzer, The Palaces of the Hasmoneans and Herod the Great (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2001b). R. Reich, “The Hot Bath-House (balneum), the Miqweh and the Jewish Community in the Second Temple Period,” JJS 39 (1988): 102–07. D. Steen-Fatkin, Many Waters: Bathing ēthē of Roman Palestine (PhD diss., Stanford University, 2007). ROBERT DARBY

Related entries: Architecture; Fortresses and Palaces; Hellenism and Hellenization; Masada, Archaeology of; Romanization.

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Behemoth

Behemoth The term “Behemoth” (‫בהמות‬, bhmwt) as a plural noun for “beasts, animals” occurs several times in the Hebrew Bible (Isa 30:6; Jer 12:4; Joel 1:20; 2:22; Mic 5:7[8]; Ps 8:8[7]; 49:13[12]; 49:21[20]; 50:10; 73:22; Job 12:7; 35:11), but perhaps uniquely in passages such as in Deuteronomy 32:24, Habakkuk 2:17, and most notably Job 40:15 as a singular animal of great power and status. Though Behemoth is presumably plural (from the singular ‫[ בהמה‬bhmh], “beast; animal”), in these particular passages it functions as a singular noun, so that the plural form may reflect the use of a pluralis majestatis to underscore the majesty of this creature. Some have suggested that the Behemoth in Job 40:15–24 is a hippopotamus or perhaps a purely mythological animal. Mythological bovine creatures reminiscent of the Joban Behemoth appear elsewhere in ancient Near Eastern literature, most prominently the “Bull of Heaven” featured in the Gilgamesh epic and in the “Bull El” epithet from Late Bronze Age Ugarit. In Second Temple Jewish literature, Behemoth appears alongside Leviathan in 4 Ezra 6:49–52, 2 Baruch 29:4, and 1 Enoch 60:7–24. These texts reflect a tradition in which Behemoth was created along with the other creatures mentioned in Genesis 1:21 and given dominion over land, as a counterpart to Leviathan, who is over the sea. Together with Leviathan, Behemoth will be killed and eaten by the righteous at a banquet in the eschaton. 1 Enoch 60:7–8 further specifies that Behemoth is a male monster (a counterpart to the female Leviathan), imprisoned on a mountain or in a desert. Later rabbinic traditions elaborated on Behemoth as a beast that was large enough to be spread over a thousand mountains (e.g. b. B. Bat. 74b–75a; Midr. Lev. Rab. 22.10).

Bibliography See General Bibliography. BRIAN R. DOAK

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Job, Book of.

Belial In the Hebrew Bible ‫( בליעל‬blyʿl) means “worthless,” “wicked”; the term is most likely derived from the Hebrew negation ‫( בלי‬bly) and the verb ‫( יעל‬yʿl)—“to be of value.” It is only in Second Temple literature that Belial becomes the name for a demonic opponent of God comparable to other evil powers (Mastema, Satan). Already in Jubilees 1:20–21 Moses prays for his people that the “spirit of Beliar” (a variant spelling) not rule over them and lead them astray. In Jubilees 15:33–34 those Israelites who do not circumcise their sons are called “sons of Beliar.” Among the Dead Sea Scrolls Belial becomes one of the terms most frequently used to describe the power of evil (Thomas 2011). Especially in the older texts, the abstract meaning “wicked” is frequently maintained (e.g. 1QHa xii 11; 1QS × 21; cf. Dimant 2011). There are, however, a large number of references to a person, a demonic being in historical paraphrases, hymns, incantations, eschatological commentaries, rules, and curse liturgies (Steudel 2007: 194). Belial not only raises Jannes and Jambres as opponents of Moses (CD v 17–18) but also has opponents of the community under his influence (4QMMT: 4Q398 14–17 ii 4–6). The “people

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of the lot of Belial” are placed opposite the “people of the lot of God” (1QS i 16–ii 8; 1QM i 5). Belial gathers followers, the “assembly of Belial,” also called his “children” (4Q174 2 i 8) or his “men” (4Q177 10–11.4). Belial develops “plans” or “traps” (1QHa xii 13–14; 4Q177 12–13 i 6; CD iv 12–19). Belial’s schemes are often characterized by “hostility” (‫[ משטמתו‬mšḥṭmtw]), a word which is associated with the “angel of darkness” (1QS iii 23) and the enemies of the community (4Q177 9.5); it is also a word play on the figure Mastema (4Q286 7 ii 2). The current age is under the “rule of Belial” (1QS i 18, 23, 24; 1QM xiv 9; 4Q290 1.2). He leads Israel astray, but people leave his rule when they join the covenant (1QS i 16–18; CD iv 12–19), cursing Belial and his lot (4Q286 7 ii 1–2; 1QS ii 1–10). According to the War Scroll Belial is created by God (1QM xiii 10–11). He commands an army (1QM i 1, 13; xv 2–3), the demonic and human opponents of God (1QM xiii 11–12). Ultimately God will annihilate Belial and his host (1QM i 4–5; 1QHa xi 30, 33; cf. Brand 2016). In the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs “Beliar” is described in similar terms. He rules over the unrighteous (T. Ash. 1:8; T. Dan 4:7). The righteous are called to resist Beliar and obey the Torah, so that he flees from them (T. Dan 5:1; T. Iss. 7:7; cf. Jas 4:7). Beliar tempts people to fornication and other transgressions (T. Sim. 5:3; T. Jos. 7:4). He lives in darkness (T. Levi 19:1); this is similar to 2 Corinthians 6:14–15, where Beliar is contrasted with Christ as darkness is to light. He is called the “prince of lies” (T. Benj. 3:3–5) and sends his spirits to influence human beings (T. Dan 1:7; T. Benj. 3:4). At the end of time Beliar will be destroyed by fire (T. Jud. 25:3). Thus Belial is used in a comparatively limited line of tradition: he is a personified power of evil, the ruler of the wicked, tempter of the people of God, and God’s eschatological opponent. He is active in history, but to be destroyed at the end of time.

Bibliography M. T. Brand, “Belial, Free Will, and Identity-Building in the Community Rule,” in Das Böse, der Teufel und Dämonen—Evil, the devil, and demons, ed. J. Dochhorn, S. Rudnik-Zelt, and B. Wold, WUNT, II 412 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 77–92. A. Steudel, “Der Teufel in den Texten aus Qumran,” in Apokalyptik und Qumran, ed. J. Frey, M. Becker, Einblicke 10 (Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2007), 191–200. S. Thomas, “‫ב ְׅליַעַל‬,” TWQ 1 (2011): 451–57. JUTTA LEONHARDT-BALZER

Related entries: Demons and Exorcism; Fallen Angels; Jubilees, Book of; Righteousness and Justice; Satan and Related Figures.

Berossus Both the Jewish historian Josephus and the 4th century Christian author Eusebius refer on several occasions to the Babylonian priest Berossus (which means “Bel is their shepherd”) and his threevolume work, the Babyloniaca (ca. 281 bce). Josephus states that Berossus was “a Chaldean man by birth, but one well known by those versed in paideia (παιδεία) since he brought to the Greeks writings concerning astronomy and Babylonian wisdom” (Ag. Ap. 1.129). The Babyloniaca, excerpted by Alexander Polyhistor, in turn cited by Eusebius, was originally composed in Greek and covered the history of the world from its origins, according to Babylonian myth, up to the early Hellenistic period (Dillery 2015: ix; De Breucker 2012). The fragmentary remains of this 102

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work deal with two broad categories: Babylonian myth (stories of the creation of the world and a universal flood) and military and political history from the Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian periods. Both Josephus and Eusebius appealed to Berossus in order to provide external validation for the legitimacy and antiquity of the biblical records. A great deal of scholarly attention has been paid to the material in Berossus dealing with the accounts of the creation and the flood (Lang 2013; cf. Josephus, Ant. 1.93; Ag. Ap. 1.129; Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.10–11; Chron.). Book One contains a version of the Babylonian creation myth, the Enuma Elish (cf. Dalley 2013). The flood narrative, located in Book Two, has Xiusthros as the hero of the flood (Eusebius, Chron., citing Alexander Polyhistor and Josephus). The god Bel-Kronos commands Xiusthros to bury “all works of writings” for preserving knowledge after the flood. The motif of sacred textual traditions that survived the waters of destruction is also found in Second Temple Jewish works such as Jubilees (Jub. 8). In addition, the warning of the protagonist about the flood in a dream can be compared with a vision given to Noah before that event in Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20 vi 11–18?) and the Parables of Enoch (1 En. 65:1) and with revelations given to Enoch according to several parts of the 1 Enoch corpus (1 En. 83–84; 85–88; and 91). Berossus can be compared to Manetho, another elite priestly figure who composed a work (the Aegyptiaca) which was a mixture of Hellenistic historiography informed by indigenous cultural and historical traditions (Moyer 2013). It is unlikely, therefore, as Gmirkin has argued (2006: 85–139), that the traditions related in Genesis 1–11 came together in response to Berossus’ account. The purpose of Berossus’ composition and the intended audience for his work is a vexing question. Dillery (2015) has suggested that it is unwise to view Berossus’ indigenous historiographical work as either a pure form of native “resistance” to or “collaboration” with the new Hellenistic rulers of Mesopotamia. The truth must lie somewhere in between these two options. Berossus is clearly responding to the dominant Hellenistic culture of his time as he is writing in Greek and utilizing models of Hellenistic historiography. He is also articulating the antiquity and foundational nature of Babylonian civilization, to make the point that Babylonian culture is older than and superior to the more recent Hellenistic civilization.

Bibliography G. De Breucker, “Alexander Polyhistor and the Babyloniaca of Berossus,” BICS 55.2 (2012): 57–68. S. Dalley, “First Millennium BC Variation in Gilgamesh, Atrahasis, the Flood Story, and the Epic of Creation: What was Available to Berossos?” The World of Berossos (2013), 165–76. M. Lang, “Book Two: Mesopotamian Early History and the Flood Story,” The World of Berossos (2013), 47–60. I. Moyer, “Berossos and Manetho,” The World of Berossos (2013), 213–34. PHILIP MICHAEL SHERMAN

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Priesthood.

Bethsaida Orientation.  Bethsaida (an Aramaic word meaning “the house of the fisherman”) was a 20-acre village during the Second Temple period on the northeast shore of the Sea of Galilee

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Bethsaida

(Figure 4.15). It is mentioned by name, whether as “Bethsaida” (βηθσαιδά; similarly ‫ציידן‬, ṣyydn) or its acquired name “Julias” (Ἰουλίας) in the writings of Josephus (as “Julias” in Ant. 18.28; J.W. 2.168, 515; Life 398–399, 406), other Second Temple writings (always as Bethsaida: 1 Macc 7:19; Matt 11:21; Mark 6:45, 8:22; Luke 9:10, 10:13; John 1:44, 12:21), Greco-Roman authors (as “Julias”: Pliny the Elder, Nat. 1.15.71–72; Claudius Ptolemy, Geogr. 5.16.4), and rabbinic literature (ṣayyidā(n): e.g. y. Šeqal. 50a; Rab. Qoh. 2:8; m. ‘Abod. Zar. 3:7). Located near to where the Jordan River flowed into the Sea of Galilee, Bethsaida was a major port during the Iron Age and Second Temple period. As such, it was associated not only with events mentioned in the New Testament but also with the First Jewish War against the Romans (66–70 ce; Josephus, Life 398–399, 406). Occupation and Archaeology.  Evidence for periods of occupation includes major architectural finds, the earliest of which suggests an Iron Age foundation (periods IIA and B, 10th–9th cent. bce) associated with the biblical kingdom of the Geshurites. Excavations, which began in 1987 under Ram Arav (Arav and Freund 1995–2009), have recovered a four-chamber gate complex, an Iron Age Palace, a small Hellenistic period temple-like structure that was reused in the Roman period,

Figure 4.15  Bethsaida adjacent to the ancient reaches of the Sea of Galilee.

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Bethsaida

Hellenistic/early Roman period courtyard houses, storehouses, flora and fauna, a complete array of daily and fine-ware ceramics, glass, metals, and 355 coins (to date) from the Greek classical through the Roman period and beyond (all documented in Kuhn 2015). The remains, which include a destruction layer during the Assyrian conquest of Tiglath-pilesar III (8th cent. bce), suggest the site was abandoned until the end of the Persian period and then reestablished during the late 4th century as a military outpost. Coins, pottery, and architectural remains establish the sociopolitical and cultural shifts from the Ptolemies to Seleucids, followed by the Hasmoneans (John Hyrcanus I to Hyrcanus II) through to Herodian and Roman authority (from Herod the Great to Agrippa II) in the area. Philip Herod, the tetrarch, was assigned the area by his father, Herod the Great, and is specifically cited in Josephus’ works as having raised the village in the 1st century ce to a polis (“city”) and even may have been buried at the site. The site was renamed “Julias” in honor of Livia-Julia, the wife of the Caesar Augustus in the early 1st century ce (Josephus, Ant. 18.28; cf. Strickert 1998: 91–108). The promotion of Bethsaida to polis is also reflected in Luke 9:10 and John 1:44. Later, the site was sporadically used in the Byzantine, Mamluke, and Ottoman periods and has been used for burials by local Bedouins since the early part of the 20th century. Archaeological study of the remains from the early Roman period associates the city with a mixed Jewish and non-Jewish population. The ethnic “Jewish” markers that help make this determination are assemblages of Jewish coins from the Hasmonean-Herodian periods and the presence of Jewish limestone vessels, “rabbinic” Kefar Hananya ceramic styled ware, and Herodian lamps associated, upon analysis, with Jerusalem area clays. The low percentage of non-kosher pig bones in comparison with surrounding non-Jewish population sites with high percentages of pig bones suggests the same conclusion (Kuhn 2015). Location.  The location of the excavations at a 2-km distance from the present-day shoreline of the lake has led to doubts that the archaeological site should be identified with Bethsaida-Julias. For this reason, another site closer to the lake (El-Araj) has been suggested instead (Zangenberg 2000; Notley 2007). Geological research on the Bethsaida plain, however, reveals that the present excavation site (et-Tell) was actually closely aligned with the ancient shoreline through lagoons during the Second Temple period (Kuhn 2015: 135–37; Savage 2011: 159–64). Several factors explain the geological dislocation of the site relative to where it was in ancient times: (a) tectonic activity along the Dead Sea-Jordan Rift Valley that passes near to the site at the Jordan River, (b) sedimentation following temporary damming along the Jordan River, and (c) the resulting upward dislocation. The identification of the excavation site as the ancient fishing village of Bethsaida is based primarily upon the abundant fishing gear, heavy stone anchors (cf. Figure 4.16), sinkers, and lead net weights all found on the acropolis. Furthermore, ground-penetrating radar and archaeological surveys of the present northeast shoreline areas reveal no permanent settlement there until after the Byzantine period. Second Temple References. Among the many references to Bethsaida in works from the Second Temple period and later rabbinic literature (see above), several in the New Testament Gospels from the 1st century ce are notable. In the Gospel of Mark (6:45), following the story of the feeding of the 5,000, Bethsaida is the destination of Jesus and his disciples, who are to reach it by boat. The narrative, which includes an encounter with stormy weather on the sea of Gennesareth (Mark 6:45–53 par. Matt 14:28–34), presupposes some geographical distance 105

Bethsaida

Figure 4.16  Stone anchor for a fishing vessel excavated at Bethsaida.

between the scenes. In Mark 8:22, Bethsaida, where the healing of a blind man takes place, becomes the destination for Jesus and his disciples, this time after the feeding of the 4,000 (8:1–10) and, as in chapter 6, after a boat trip (8:13–21). In the Gospel of Luke, on the other hand, Bethsaida is given as the location of Jesus and the disciples prior to the feeding story (cf. Luke 9:10–11, 12–17). In a tradition shared by Matthew and Luke, Bethsaida, together with Chorazin, is targeted by Jesus’ criticism for not repenting in response to his deeds there. Finally, in John’s Gospel, Bethsaida is said to be the “city” of three of Jesus’ disciples, Phillip (cf. also John 12:21), Andrew, and Peter, though in Mark (1:21–31), the latter two are associated with Capernaum. These accounts, taken together, illustrate the importance of Bethsaida for the narrative of Jesus’ activity in Galilee.

Bibliography R. Arav and R. A. Freund, eds., Bethsaida: A City by the North Sea of Galilee, vols. I–IV (Kirksville: Truman State University Press, 1995–2009).

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Bethshean (Scythopolis)

H. W. Kuhn, Betsaida/Bethsaida-Julias (et-Tell), Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus, Series Archaeologia 4 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015). S. Notley, “Et-Tell is Not Bethsaida,” NEA 70 (2007): 220–30. C. E. Savage, Biblical Bethsaida: An Archaeology Study of the First Century (Lanham: Lexington Books, 2011). F. M. Strickert, Bethsaida: Home of the Apostles (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1998). J. Zangenberg, “Bethsaida. Reassessing the Bethsaida Identification,” BAR 26 (2000): 10–12. RICHARD A. FREUND

Related entries: Agriculture; Archaeology (Recent Trends); Hellenism and Hellenization; John, Gospel of; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, First Jewish; Romanization.

Bethshean (Scythopolis) Introduction.  The biblical tel and classical city of Bethshean (Scythopolis) are situated in a fertile, well-watered valley at the junction of the Jezreel and Jordan valleys where major roads passed in antiquity (see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). Biblical Bethshean (e.g. Judg 1:27; 1 Sam 31:10) was renamed Scythopolis during the Hellenistic period (2 Macc 12:29–30; Jdt 3:10; Josephus, Ant. 5.84). Nysa-Scythopolis (Nysa for short) appears on imperial coinage and inscriptions (Foerster and Tsafrir: 1986–1987) (Figure 4.17). A legend cited by Pliny (Nat. 5.16) and Solinus (Polyhistor 36) states that Dionysus (the Roman Bacchus) built Scythopolis (which means “City of the Scythians”) in honor of his nursemaid, Nysa, whom he buried in this location and over whose grave he had Scythian archers stand watch. History of Excavations.  The University of Pennsylvania first excavated the biblical tel in 1921– 1923 (see “Cemeteries [Bethshean]” Figure 4.27: 2) and exposed numerous strata spanning from Neolithic through medieval times, including the Roman period (FitzGerald 1931). All subsequent work at the site has been carried on over the years by various Israeli expeditions, beginning in the 1960s (Foerster 1993; Mazor 2008).

Figure 4.17  Nero, 54–68 ce, 23-mm bronze coin dated to 66/67 ce (CY 130). Obverse: Head of Nero to right. Reverse: Tyche stands left with cluster of berries and scepter, date across field and name of city around. Barkay 12, Roman Provincial Coinage I 4834.

107

Bethshean (Scythopolis)

The Hellenistic Period.  Following the destruction of the Israelite town by Tiglath-pileser III in 732 bce, there was a gap in settlement until the site was resettled in the 3rd century bce. It started off on the tel as a military stronghold and administrative center (Level III), but then expanded during the reign of Antiochus IV Epiphanes to include a new and well-planned polis on Tell Iztabba, just north of the ancient tel (Figure 4.27: 1). The city is mentioned in the context of the Maccabean wars (1 Macc 5:52; 12:40–42; 2 Macc 12:29–31) and was also conquered by John Hyrcanus I in 107 bce. After the campaigns of Pompey in 63 bce, Scythopolis became the chief city of the Decapolis. Josephus (J.W. 3.446) described it as the largest of the cities of the Decapolis and as the only one located west of the Jordan River. Though Scythopolis receives no mention in the New Testament, the Decapolis as a region is referred to several times in the Synoptic Gospels (Matt 4:25; Mark 5:20; 7:31). The Roman Period.  By the late 1st century bce the city expanded from Tell Iztabba to the foot of Tel Bethshean (Figure 4.27: 7). No city wall is known from Roman times, so it is possible that Scythopolis was unfortified at this time. The newly established civic center included an agora surrounded by paved streets lined by shops, a basilica, temples, a theater, and a bath complex (Applebaum 1978). One centrally located temple built during this time, associated with the cult of Dionysus or Tyche, survived until the earthquake of 749 ce. A cylindrical limestone pedestal that once held a statue or bust was found fallen in front of the temple. It bore an inscription dedicated to the emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (161–180 ce). On the summit of the tel, which served as the city’s acropolis, stood a Roman temple (Penn Level III) dedicated to Zeus Akraios (Figure 4.27: 2). After rioting in Caesarea Maritima sparked the First Jewish War in 66 ce, Josephus mentions how the gentile population rose up and slaughtered 13,000 Jewish inhabitants of Scythopolis (J.W. 2.468). Evidence for a Jewish presence in Scythopolis is scant after the Jewish War. A hexagonal stone altar was dedicated to Dionysus in the year 141/142 ce, and a marble statue of this deity was found nearby. The regional economy included the manufacture of linen garments from locally grown flax (y. Pe’ah 7:4, 20a), in addition to farming and olives (Avi-Yonah 1962). The city expanded considerably during the Byzantine period (beginning in the 5th century ce), since it became the seat of a Christian episcopate, to around 100 hectares (247 acres) and a population of around 40,000 inhabitants. Though Christian presence dominated, a mosaic floor depicting the zodiac in the 6th-century ce monastery to the Lady Mary suggests a degree of syncretism. Three synagogues from this era contain inscriptions in Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Samaritan. Some mosaic floors depict geometric and plant motifs and others include animals, while there are no images of humans. A separate mosaic floor in the building complex of the “House of Leontis” synagogue depicts scenes from Homer’s Odyssey. Nysa-Scythopolis was conquered by the Muslims in 635 ce and was entirely destroyed a century later in a huge earthquake dated to 749 ce, leaving the city mostly in ruins.

Bibliography S. Applebaum, “The Roman Theatre of Scythopolis,” Scripta Classica Israelica 4 (1978): 77–97. M. Avi-Yonah, “Scythopolis,” IEJ 12 (1962): 123–34. G. M. FitzGerald, Beth-Shean Excavations 1921–1923: The Arab and Byzantine Levels (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum, 1931).

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G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “Nysa Scythopolis—A New Inscription and the Titles of the City on Its Coins,” INJ 9 (1986–1987): 53–58. G. Mazor, “The Hellenistic to Early Islamic Periods: The Israel Antiquities Authority Excavations,” NEAEHL (2008), 5:1623–36, 1644. ROBERT A. MULLINS

Related entries: Agriculture; Baths; Coins; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Mosaics; Revolt, Maccabean; Revolt, First Jewish.

Birth, Miraculous Introduction and Background.  Stories of miraculous births, often followed by an account of an extraordinary childhood, circulated widely in relation to famous figures in ancient literature of the Mediterranean world. This context shaped the motif of miraculous birth in Second Temple Jewish writings. Although stories, often in Greek, were told about both gods and mortals, the narratives look much the same. The accounts are counterintuitive. For instance, according to a widespread myth, the Greek deity Dionysius is said to have been twice-born (hence his epithet dimetōr). According to the most prevalent version of the myth, Dionysius was born of a union between Zeus (the divine) and Semele (the human), daughter of Cadmus king of Thebes. When Hera learned of Zeus’ affair with Semele, she appeared to her as a nurse or crone and befriended her, fomenting doubt about Zeus’ actual fatherhood. In response, Semele begged Zeus to appear to her in all his glory. Upon seeing Zeus, Semele perished, but managed to save Dionysius whom Zeus had sown onto his thigh. Some months later Dionysius is born a second time out of Zeus’ thigh (e.g. Euripides, Bacch. 88–100.519–533; Aeschylus, Semele frag. 355–362). Another example is the birth of Athene, who was born out of the head of Zeus after he had swallowed her mother Mētis to prevent her from bearing children more powerful than himself (Hesiod, Theog. 886–900, 924–926). The ubiquity of the motif in folktales, myths, and fables is apparent from Thompson’s index over motifs of folk-literature (Thompson 1975: T540.1–T549.4.1). Narratively the motif of miraculous birth may serve different functions within the overall purpose of increasing the protagonist’s status, across cultures and in Second Temple Jewish literature. It may, as in the case of the birth and earliest childhood of Asclepius, be seen as a mark of divine election and thus an affirmation of the divine sanctioning of the child’s special status (Pausanius 2.26, 4–5). It may also be used to initiate a divine vocation or commissioning of the child, of which the child subsequently must show him/herself worthy in the following narrative (Matt 1:18–25; cf. translation Stuckenbruck 2007: 622). Second Temple Literature.  Depictions of miraculous births appear abundantly in Jewish texts and frequently occur in the context of rewritten Scripture that attempt to reinforce the protagonist’s status. This is clear, for instance, from the inclusion of the birth narratives of Matthew 1–2 and Luke 1–2, whereas Mark’s Gospel offers no such account. The same phenomenon is at play with regard to other central Jewish figures such as Noah, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Samson, and Samuel. In Exodus 2:2, e.g., the only thing that is said about the infant Moses is that he was a fine child. In Josephus’ rewriting of the story, however, the miracle of Moses’ rescue by pharaoh’s daughter has grown considerably. Child Moses has also become a boy “of divine beauty and generous spirit” (Ant. 2.232). 109

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A similar inflation of status is also found with Noah, as testified by 1 Enoch 106, 2 Enoch 71–72, and possibly 4Q534 i 10. Well beyond the account in Genesis 5:28–29, these texts elaborate significantly on Noah’s birth. He is extraordinary by his radiating appearance and wisdom: “And his body was white as snow and red as a rose blossom. And the hair of his head and its locks (were) as white wool; beautiful (were) his eyes. And when he opened his eyes, they illumined the entire house as the sun, and the whole house became very bright. And when he was taken from the hands of the midwife, he opened his mouth and spoke with the Lord of righteousness” (so the Ethiopic of 1 En. 106:2–3; translation Stuckenbruck, 2007: 622). Together with the Genesis Apocryphon (1QapGen i–v), these texts place primary narrative attention on Lamech, since on the basis of Noah’s beauty and sagacity, he is uncertain of his wife Bitenosh’s fidelity, i.e., whether she became pregnant with Noah through the rebellious angels or through him. Lamech sends his father Methuselah to the heavenly Enoch, who in turn guarantees that Lamech is indeed the father (cf. Nickelsburg 1998: 138–44; Dimant 1998). Figures endowed with particular prominence as mediators between God and Israel were likely to be the focus of special attention (whether positive or even negative) and could be subject to narrative development. In this vein, the depiction of circumstances surrounding their birth and of their early childhood could function as a way to account for their importance and later activities.

Bibliography G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Patriarchs Who Worry about Their Wives: A Haggadic Tendency in the Genesis Apocryphon,” Biblical Perspectives (1998), 137–58. L. T. Stuckenbruck, “Conflicting Stories: The Spirit Origin of Jesus’ Birth,” The Myth of the Rebellious Angels (2014), 142–60. S. Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature: A Classification of Narrative Elements in Folktales, Ballads, Myths, Fables, Medieval Romances, Exempla, Fabliaux, Jest-Books, and Local Legends. Revised and Enlarged Edition. Volume Five L–Z (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1975). ANDERS KLOSTERGAARD PETERSEN

Related entries: Birth of Noah (1 Enoch 106–107); Genesis, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Mediator Figures; Miracles and Miracle Workers.

Blasphemy “Blasphemy” refers to saying or doing something that disparages or dishonors another. Many Jews during the Second Temple period considered it to be a grave offense when it was directed against God. In the literature a wide range of verbal and non-verbal activities could be regarded as blasphemy against God, such as cursing God, misusing the Name, attacking the Jerusalem Temple, denigrating God’s leaders, disdaining the Torah, preventing Torah observance, usurping God’s prerogatives, and claiming God’s honor or status. Key Legal Texts.  Three Mosaic texts formed a legal basis for discussions about blasphemy. The first is Exodus 22:27(28): “You shall not revile (‫קלל‬, qll) God or curse (‫ארר‬, ʾrr) a leader of your people.” The second legal text is Leviticus 24:10–23, which describes an Egyptian-Hebrew man who “blasphemed (‫ ויקב‬wyqb) the Name with a curse (‫קבב‬, qbb)” (v. 11). Moses’ decree that this blasphemer must be executed suggests that blasphemy is tantamount to verbal murder (cf.

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Lev 24:16). Accordingly, some later texts would require the death penalty when the Name was improperly vocalized (cf. 1QS vii 1; Josephus, Ant. 4.202; m. Sanh. 7:5; b. Sanh. 56a). The third passage is Numbers 15:30–31; here, “sinning with a high hand,” which is labeled as blasphemy (‫גדף‬, gdp), involves “despising the word of the Lord,” breaking the commandment, and spurning God. For such defiance, the penalty is krt (‫)כרת‬, i.e., to be “cut off” from among the people (Num 15:30; cf. m. Keritot). Paradigmatic Narratives. Several narratives exemplify and expand on the understanding of blasphemy in early Judaism. First, the account of Sennacherib’s blasphemy in 2 Kings 18:1– 19:37 is alluded to throughout Jewish literature (e.g. 1 Macc 7:41, 2 Macc 15:22; Josephus, Ant. 10.1–23). In his demand for the surrender of Jerusalem Sennacherib says that the Lord cannot save his people, comparing him to the impotent gods of other nations (19:10–12). This claim is regarded in Isaiah as “mocking” (‫חרף‬, ḥrp) and “blaspheming” (‫גדף‬, gdp, Isa 19:4–7) because Sennacherib had “raised his voice,” “lifted his eyes” against the Holy One (Isa 19:22), and boasted about his own godlike powers (Isa 19:23–24, 28). A second narrative (1 Macc 2:6) describes Antiochus IV Epiphanes’ wide-ranging offenses as blasphemies (τὰς βλασφημίας, tas blasphēmias). These include verbal offenses such as decrees banning markers of Jewish identity (1 Macc 1:44–49) and non-verbal activity such as building an abomination on the altar, burning Torah scrolls, killing Jews who practiced circumcision (1 Macc 1:54–61), and threatening the Temple (1 Macc 2:7–13). Second Maccabees describes Antiochus as profaning the Temple (2 Macc 8:2), committing blasphemies against the Name (2 Macc 8:4), and fighting against God, with whom he even claims equality (2 Macc 7:19; 9:12, 28; cf. Philo, Decal. 62–63). A third narrative concerns Nicanor, who was sent to destroy Judea. Upon arrival, he “stretched out his hand toward the sanctuary,” swearing to level the shrine, destroy the altar, and build another temple in its place (2 Macc 14:33). For his fist-shaking threat (cf. Num 15:30–31), he is labeled a blasphemer (2 Macc 9:28), his actions blasphemous (1 Macc 7:38), and his words evil (1 Macc 7:42). After certain Jews declare that the Sovereign in Heaven ordered them to observe the seventh day, Nicanor proclaims, “I am a sovereign also, on earth, and I command you … [to] finish the king’s business” (1 Macc 15:4–5). Hence, Nicanor is seen to have blasphemed the Lord of the Sabbath (cf. Num 15:30–31; Philo, Decal. 62–63). In a fourth narrative, Philo of Alexandria introduces “a certain Egyptian ruler” who exemplifies the blasphemous nature of comparing oneself to God (Somn. 2.123–132). In compelling the Jews to work on the Sabbath, the Egyptian ruler threatens them with his godlike power and authority: “I … am the whirlwind, the war, the deluge, the lightning … and the earthquake” (2.129), to which Philo responds, “What shall we say of one who says or even merely thinks these things? … Who dared to liken himself to the All-blessed? Would he delay to utter blasphemies against the sun, moon, and other stars? … Being a man he conceives himself to have been made superior to other living creatures” (Somn. 2.130–131). New Testament Writings.  In the Synoptic Gospels Jesus’ opponents accuse him of blasphemy for announcing the forgiveness of sins, thinking that he claims divine authority (Mark 2:7; cf. Philo, Somn. 2.123–132). Jesus is further accused of threatening to destroy the Temple and promising to replace it, echoing Nicanor’s blasphemy (Mark 15:57–58; 2 Macc 14:33). When that charge fails, 111

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and after Jesus claims to sit at the right hand of Power (cf. Dan 7:13–14; Ps 110), the High Priest tears his clothes and announces, “You have heard his blasphemy” (Mark 14:61–64). The High Priest’s charge appears rooted in narratives about infamous blasphemers such as Sennacherib and Antiochus. Elsewhere, in a counter-charge, Jesus warns opponents against blaspheming the Holy Spirit, which is synonymous with linking Jesus with evil (Mark 3:28–30). In the New Testament it is also possible to blaspheme the Messiah (Mark 15:29), the “excellent name” (Jas 2:7), and the “glorious ones” (2 Pet 2:10). In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus is accused of blasphemy for making himself equal with God (John 5:16–18; 2 Macc 15:4–5; Philo, Somn. 2.130–131). Without denying equality, Jesus qualifies it (John 5:19–30). Jesus is also accused of blasphemy for claiming to be the Son of God—which, by itself, is not blasphemous unless it entails usurping God’s prerogatives (John 10:36; 19:7; cf. Philo, Somn. 2.123–132). In addition, it is important to note that Jesus’ perceived threat to the Temple (John 2:13–21; 1 Macc 2:6–13), his denigration of religious authorities (e.g. John 7:19; 8:44–47; 9:39–41; cf. Exod 22:27[28]), and his supposed “speaking evil” (κακῶς ἐλάλησα, kakōs elalēsa) against the High Priest (John 18:22–23; LXX Exod 22:27) could be construed as blasphemy. Penalties.  Punishment for blasphemy included execution (Lev 24:14), hanging on a tree (Josephus, Ant. 4.202), being cut off (Num 15:30), dying by God’s hand (1 Macc 9:5–10), or expulsion from the community (Deut 23:1–8; Philo, Spec. 1.60; CD 12.4–6). For those who heard blasphemy, tearing one’s clothes was a way to express grief and horror (2 Kgs 18:37; Num 14:6, 11, 23; Mark 14:63; b. Sanh. 60a). Summary.  In Second Temple Jewish traditions, the notion of blasphemy could embrace a wide range of verbal and non-verbal activities that were perceived to strike at the core of Jewish identity. Accusations of blasphemy exposed what Jewish and emerging Christian communities would not tolerate as they sought to protect their most important forms of religiosity.

Bibliography D. L. Bock, Blasphemy and Exaltation in Judaism and the final Examination of Jesus, WUNT 2.106 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998). J. D. Truex, The Problem of Blasphemy: The Fourth Gospel and Early Jewish Understandings (University of Durham Doctoral Thesis, 2002; Lulu, 2011). JERRY D. TRUEX

Related entries: Apostasy; Isaiah, Book of; John, Gospel of; Judgment; Maccabees, Second Book of; Philo of Alexandria; Sin.

Boethusians “Boethusians” is the name of a Jewish priestly group that existed during the Second Temple period. Knowledge about Boethusians derives solely from rabbinic literature, and no mention of them is to be found in any other ancient source. According to an early rabbinic tradition, found in ‘Abot de Rabbi Nathan (version B, ch. 10, ed. Schechter 1887), the Boethusians were named after Boethos, who was a disciple of Antigonos of Socho (late 3rd or early 2nd cent. bce). A different explanation was suggested in the 16th century by Rabbi Azzariah de Rossi and was followed by 112

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various modern scholars (e.g. Grintz 1953; Herr 1981). According to de Rossi’s suggestion, the Boethusians are the rabbinic equivalent to Josephus’ Essenes (e.g. J.W. 2.119–161; Ant. 18.18– 21). In this vein, they could be linked to the Boethus to whom Josephus refers several times as the father of the high priest Simeon, whose daughter Mariamne married Herod the Great (J.W. 5.557; Ant. 15.320; 17.78, 339; 18.3; 19.297). Modern scholars have pointed out the orthographic proximity of the two names in Hebrew, especially in light of the reading of early manuscripts of rabbinic literature, in which the name of the Boethusians appears without a medial vav (“Bethsin”). In some cases, it is even written in two separate words (“Beth Sin”), which, according to this suggestion, is a form of Beth Es[sene], i.e., “the house of the Essenes.” However, any such link is unlikely for both linguistic-philological and historical reasons, especially since there is every indication that the Boethusians participated in Temple worship, unlike the Essenes. Likewise, a straightforward link between the Boethusians and Sadducees is questionable (Schremer 1997: 290–94; Schiffman 1991: 107–11). Virtually all the references to the Boethusians in early rabbinic literature go back to a single rabbinic work, the Tosefta (t. Roš Haš. 1:15; t. Sukkah 3:1; t. Menaḥ 10:23; t. Yad. 2:20), whereas parallel early texts refer to Sadducees instead (see Schremer 1997). It seems likely that the author(s) of the Tosefta traditions had a specific preference for the name Boethusians (Sussmann 1990 and Schremer 1997: 295, n. 28). For this reason, it would be futile to rely on these references as sources upon which a reconstruction of the stances of the Boethusians can be established.

Bibliography J. Grintz, “The Men of the Yaḥad—the Essenes—and the Boethusians,” Sinai 32 (1953): 11–43. M. D. Herr, “Who were the Boethusians?” in Proceedings of the Seventh World Congress of Jewish Studies: Studies in the Talmud, Halacha, and Midrash (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies 1981), 1–20 (in Hebrew). S. Schechter, Avoth de Rabbi Nathan (Vienna: Mordecai Knapelmacher, 1887). L. H. Schiffman, From Text to Tradition: A History of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism (Hoboken: Ktav, 1991). A. Schremer, “The Name of the Boethusians: A Reconsideration of Suggested Explanations and Another One,” JJS 48 (1997): 290–99. Y. Sussmann, “The History of Halakha and the Dead Sea Scrolls—Preliminary Observations on Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Tora [4QMMT],” Tarbiz 59 (1990): 11–76 (in Hebrew). ADIEL SCHREMER

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Mishnah; Priesthood; Sages.

Burial Practices Jewish burial practices reflect the changes in Jewish society, philosophy, values, and religion that occurred during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Much of today’s knowledge of Jewish funerary rites and practices toward the end of the Second Temple period comes from literary sources and archaeological discoveries of ancient tombs (cf. esp. 11QT lviii 11–13; xlix 5; l 4–6, 10–11; lxiv 6–12; CD A xii 15–17, 18; Tob 2:4–5; Mark 14:8; 15:42–46; 16:1; Matt 26:12; 27:57–60; Luke 23:56; 24:1; John 11:17, 44; Josephus, J.W. 4.317; m. Sanh. 6:5; m. B. Bat. 2:9; 6:8; m. Pesaḥ. 8:8; m. Moʿed Qaṭ. 1:5). Several Jewish cemeteries have been discovered 113

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in the land of Israel. The Jerusalem and Jericho cemeteries provide the primary archaeological information about funerary custom in the Second Temple period. Other smaller cemeteries have been discovered at Qumran, ʿEin-Gedi, and some other sites in the Judean hills and around the Dead Sea and the Galilee, including at Bethshean and Beth Sheʿarim (Hachlili 2000), the latter of which also contained many tombs after the 2nd century ce. These cemeteries were located outside of town limits in accordance with Jewish law. Most of the tombs discovered in Jerusalem and Jericho used natural caves or rock-cut tombs hewn into the soft, local meleke limestone, continuing the practice from the First Temple period. Jews also continued the practice of secondary burial throughout the Second Temple period, which began during the First Temple period. The style of these tombs changed in the Second Temple period, however. Excavations have also uncovered shaft (or cist) tombs around Jerusalem (esp. in the area of Beit Zafafa) similar to the tombs discovered at Qumran (Zissu 1998). The Jerusalem cemeteries surrounded the city walls during the Second Temple period in a concentrated ring outside the city limits, about 5 km in circumference. Approximately 1,000 tombs have been discovered in Jerusalem from excavations and surveys over the past 150 years (Hachlili 2005: 1–4). The Jerusalem and Jericho cemeteries indicate that the most common Jewish burial style in the land of Israel from the 2nd century bce to the 1st century ce was loculi (or kokhim) tombs (Hachlili 2005: 55–56; Kloner and Zissu 2007: 39–40). The typical tomb was hewn into the hillside and consisted of a square chamber. The initial work was carried out with an iron hammer and pick. The tomb chambers and kokhim were smoothed with a chisel 2 to 3 cm wide. The entrance to an ordinary kokhim tomb was a small square opening that required a person entering to stoop. The height of the chamber was usually less than that of a person, so that a square pit was often cut into the floor of the chamber (Kloner and Zissu 2007: 89–92). This pit created a bench on three sides of the chamber where the bodies of the deceased could be prepared. After the chamber and the pit were cut, the kokhim were cut level with the top of the benches and perpendicular to the wall of the tomb in a counter clockwise direction, from right to left, in every wall except the entrance wall. Within a loculi tomb, one to three loculi were usually cut per wall. The loculi had roughly vaulted ceilings and were the length of the deceased or a coffin. Loculi were originally cut for primary burials. After the deceased was placed into the kokh, a blocking stone sealed the square entrance of the tomb. Small stones and plaster helped to further seal the blocking stone. The tomb was sealed in such a manner as to blend into the surrounding hillside. During the Second Temple period, Jews practiced secondary burial. In the Hellenistic period, after the flesh decayed, the bones were transferred into a separate chamber of the tomb, known as a “charnel house,” where they were piled in a heap (as, e.g., in Jason’s Tomb in Jerusalem). From the mid-1st century bce until the destruction of the Second Temple, they buried the bones of the deceased in stone boxes called ossuaries. The initial interment of the body into the kokh (loculus) served as the burial of the flesh. After a year, when the flesh had decayed, the bones were collected and buried in the ossuary. Once the bones were placed into the ossuary, the ossuary could be placed in a loculus within the tomb or upon the bench or floor of the main tomb chamber. Ossuaries were made of soft, chalky limestone (a few ossuaries were made out of clay or wood) and consisted of a box where the bones were placed and a lid (Rahmani 1994: 3–4). The limestone was placed into water to soften the stone, which allowed the stone to be easily carved 114

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into the ossuary. Originally ossuaries served one individual, so the dimensions of the ossuary were the length of an individual’s femur and the width and height of his or her pelvis and skull (Rahmani 1994: 6); however, sometimes bones were placed in ossuaries that were not made for the particular deceased person, and the bones did not fit. Many ossuaries, however, contain the bones of more than one person (and not complete persons at that). Most of the ossuaries discovered bear decorations, although they can be plain. Professional craftsmen decorated the ossuaries using a compass, ruler, straightedge, carving knife, gouge, mallet, and chisel (Hachlili 2005: 96–97). Many ossuaries bear inscriptions in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek (Rahmani 1994). These inscriptions were not done by professional scribes but in the semi-dark of the cave by family members to identify the deceased. The majority of the ossuaries discovered come from tombs in Jerusalem (approximately 2,000). Tombs from the same period containing ossuaries have been discovered in Jericho (many from priestly families), the hill country of Judea, the Coastal Plain, and Galilee. Many of these ossuaries, however, date to the period between 70 and 135 ce (Rahmani 1994b: 195–96). During the Second Temple period, Jews also buried the deceased in coffins (made from wood or lead) and stone sarcophagi (Hachlili 2005: 75–94; 115–25). In addition to the loculi tomb, arcosolia tombs began to appear sporadically during the 1st century ce (Hachlili 2005: 69–71; Kloner and Zissu 2007: 85–86). The arcosolia is a bench-like aperture with an arched ceiling hewn into the length of the wall. This style of burial was more expensive since only three burial places existed within a tomb chamber instead of six or nine, as typically found within loculi tombs. Approximately 130 arcosolia tombs have been discovered in Jerusalem, and over half of them also contain loculi (Kloner and Zissu 2007: 81–82). Ossuaries could be placed on the arcosolia benches. Among the tombs of the Jerusalem necropolis were also discovered monumental tombs, grand monolithic structures with a sepulchral rock-cut monument above ground and a complex of underground burial chambers. Monumental tombs began to appear in the land of Israel during the Hellenistic period. The style of these monumental tombs combined Greco-Roman and Egyptian features (pyramids and cornices). The Tomb of Absalom actually combines three styles—a Doric frieze, Ionic capitals, and an Egyptian cornice. Many of the decorative details and composition, however, are distinctive to the Jerusalem necropolis. Several tomb complexes in Jerusalem and Jericho have a courtyard with benches and mikveh attached to them. This is interesting since rabbinic halakah did not permit a person to be purified from contamination by the dead in a cemetery (Reich 1991: 119–21). The Temple Scroll and 4Q414 (see also 4Q512), however, indicate that a person made impure through contact with a corpse must immerse on the first day, i.e., immediately after burial, and on the third and seventh days (Eshel 1997: 3–10; Hachlili 2005: 59–60; Kloner and Zissu 2007: 44–45). The courtyard with the benches served as a place for mourning and memorial services (Hachlili 2000: 127, 2005: 59–60).

Bibliography E. Eshel, “4Q414 Fragment 2: Purification of A Corpse Contaminated Person,” in Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the IOQS, Cambridge 1995. Published in Honour of Joseph M. Baumgarten, ed. M. Bernstein, F. García Martínez, and J. Kampen, STDJ 23 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 3–10.

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R. Hachlili, “Cemeteries,” EDSS (2000). 1:125–29. R. Hachlili, Jewish Funerary Customs, Practices and Rites in the Second Temple Period, SJSJ 94 (Leiden: Brill, 2005). L. Y. Rahmani, “Ossuaries and Ossilegium (Bone-Gathering) in the Late Second Temple Period,” in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1994), 191–205. R. Reich, Jewish Ritual Baths in the Second Temple Period and in the Mishnaic and Talmudic period (PhD diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1991) (Hebrew). B. Zissu, “‘Qumran Type’ Graves in Jerusalem: Archaeological Evidence of an Essene Community?” DSD 5.2 (1998): 158–71. MARC TURNAGE

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim); Cemeteries (Bethshean); Cemeteries (Qumran); Death and Afterlife.

Caesarea Maritima Caesarea Maritima, founded by King Herod the Great (Josephus, Ant. 14.76; J.W. 2.266), was a prosperous maritime city in which everything abounded (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). It was built on the seashore, between Jaffa and Dor, on the site of the abandoned Hellenistic city Straton’s Tower, which was smaller and less important than those cities. The hinterland of Caesarea included the southern edge of the Carmel, the north of the Sharon plain, and the northern hills of Samaria. The city itself covered the area of the sand dunes and kurkar (calcareous sandstone) ridges. To its east spread the fruitful Sharon, which already in earlier times had been known as a region of fine grain and pasture land. In addition to maritime commerce, five trade routes linked Caesarea with inland cities. Straton’s Tower. It seems that this Hellenistic settlement preceding Caesarea was founded in the 3rd century bce, under Ptolemy II, king of Egypt, by a Greek admiral named Straton. Its foundation myth, preserved among the gentile inhabitants of Caesarea, was preserved incised on a ceremonial bronze cup now at the Louvre (Patrich 2011: 78–81). The site was conquered by the Hasmonean Alexander Jannaeus after a harsh battle, and he settled Jews there (Levine 1974). Later the city became desolate. Two circular towers preserved in the north end of the Herodian city wall date to this Hellenistic settlement. In the other directions, one can trace the spread of the Hellenistic city by the distribution of graves from that time. This allocation indicates that Straton’s Tower was much smaller than Herodian Caesarea. It has been suggested that the city had two harbors, one in the north and the other at the site where the Herodian inner harbor was later constructed. Both were closed harbors, contained within the coastline (limen kleistos). The main deity of the city was Tyche, who was assymilated with the pan-Hellenistic goddess Isis, mistress of the seas (Patrich 2011: 8–13). Herodian Caesarea (Figure 4.18; Patrich 2007, 2011: 5–40). Herod king of Judea under Roman aegis (37–4 bce) made Caesarea the administrative capital of his large kingdom. The city was named after Caesar Augustus, Herod’s patron, the first emperor of the Roman Empire. After the banishment of Herod’s son Archaleus in 6 ce, the Roman provincial governor resided in Caesarea. King Agrippa I and his family also lived there during his short reign (41–44 ce). After the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple under Vespasian, Caesarea became a Roman colony (71 ce; Patrich 2011: 71–90).

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Herod’s Building Projects in Caesarea. The building works lasted twelve years (22–10/9 bce). The city was inaugurated in an impressive festival in honor of Augustus that included spectacular games and shows (Josephus, Ant. 16.136–141). The literary descriptions of Flavius Josephus (Ant. 15.331–341; J.W. 1.408–415) indicate that the city was fortified and was graced with a large deepwater harbor (Figure 4.18: 1) that was protected by a breakwater (Figure 4.18: 2) and contained a mole, anchorage, and harbor facilities. Surrounding the harbor were dwellings (Figure 4.18: 3) and other urban structures, and at their center—on top of a hill—stood a temple (Figure 4.18: 4). The streets, equidistant from each other and following an orthogonal grid, led westward to the harbor or the sea. Drainage conduits ran underneath, one of them diagonal (seemingly under a diagonal street; Figure 4.18: 5), linking them all. This sophisticated drainage system also allowed seawater to flow in and wash it out at the time of the tide without flooding the streets themselves. The public buildings included a temple dedicated to Augustus and Rome (Figure 4.18: 4), markets (agorai), and two entertainment structures: a stone-built theater (Figure 4.18: 6) and an amphitheater—actually a hippodrome/stadium (a hippo-stadium; Figure 4.18: 7), which was

Figure 4.18  Herodian Caesarea.

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Caesarea Maritima

Figure 4.19  Reconstruction of Herod’s palace in Caesarea (aerial view from the southwest).

located south of the harbor, facing the sea. For his residence Herod built a royal palace (basileia; Figure 4.18: 8) extending over a peninsula (Figure 4.19). It was later known as “Herod’s praetorium” (Acts 23:35), in which the Roman governors, including Pontius Pilatus, resided. Herod’s expanded city suffered from want of a local water supply. So Herod constructed an aqueduct to bring from Mount Carmel to the northeast to Caesarea. Other temples and statues are also attributed to Herod. The “polished stone” or “white stone” from which the city was built was a local, calcerous kurkar stone coated by a thick layer of smooth white plaster; it was not marble (Patrich 2011: 13–14). In all, the archaeological finds in Caesarea fit the extant literary descriptions quite well. The population of the Herodian city included Jews, gentiles (Greeks/Syrians in the terms of Josephus, Life 52–53; J.W. 2.266–268; Ant. 20.173–175), and a few Christians (cf. Acts 10; 12:19; 21:8, 16). The Jews lived in all parts of the city and not in a separate quarter; this mixture with their gentile neighbors resulted in a great deal of friction and hostility. The apostle Paul was held in Caesarea for two years (Acts 24:27; ca. 58–60 ce).

Bibliography L. I. Levine, “The Hasmonean Conquest of Straton’s Tower,” IEJ 24 (1974): 62–69. L. I. Levine, Caesarea Under Roman Rule (Leiden: Brill, 1975). J. Patrich, “Herodian Caesarea: The Urban Space,” The World of the Herods (2007), 93–130. J. Patrich, Studies in the Archaeology and History of Caesarea Maritima: Caput Iudaeae, Metropolis Palaestinae, AJEC 77 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). JOSEPH PATRICH

Related entries: Aqueducts; Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Fortresses and Palaces; Inscriptions; Josephus, Writings of; Roman Governors; Theaters. 118

Caesarea Philippi (Paneas)

Caesarea Philippi (Paneas) Caesarea Philippi, or Paneas (modern Banias), is located in the southwestern foothills of Mount Hermon along a major route between Tyre and Damascus and adjacent to one of the major sources of the Jordan River (see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). The waters pour from springs below a cave dedicated in the Hellenistic period to the god Pan and other forest deities. First mentioned by Polybius (Hist. 16.18.2) as a battle site ca. 200 bce, the area eventually fell under the control of the Itureans. The Romans then assigned it to Herod the Great, who was charged with subjugating its unruly population (Josephus, Ant. 15.360; J.W. 1.404–406). The cave-spring complex continued to serve as a cult center for Hellenistic (and perhaps Canaanite) nature deities, to which Herod the Great added the imperial cult, erecting a temple to Augustus “near the Paneion” (Josephus, Ant. 16.363–4; J.W. 1.404–405). Recent excavations suggest that this temple may have been located a short distance south of the cave-spring complex at Omrit (Wilson 2004: 16; Wilson and Tzaferis 2007: 141). Philip the Tetrarch, the son of Herod the Great (4 bce–34 ce), inherited the district and established his capital adjacent to the cave-spring, naming the Greco-Roman-style city Caesarea Philippi (Ant. 18.28; J.W. 2.167–8). The city served as the administrative center for Philip’s tetrarchy, which included Gaulanitis (the Golan), Ituraea (the northern Golan Heights), and Ulatha (the northern Hula and southern Beka’a valleys). During this period Jesus and his disciples visited the towns belonging to the city (Matt 16:13–17; Mark 8:27–28). The city remained under Herodian rule throughout the 1st century ce. Philip’s grandnephew Agrippa II (54–96? ce) “embellished” the city “at great expense” (J.W. 3.514) and briefly renamed it Neronias (Ant. 20.211). Agrippa hosted a visit by Vespasian and his troops during the First Jewish Revolt (J.W. 3.443–444) and sponsored a victory celebration for Titus and his army following the defeat of the Jews and the destruction of Jerusalem (J.W. 7.23–24). Philip and Agrippa II maintained mints in the city; several Herodian coin issues feature depictions of the temple to Augustus. Recent excavations have uncovered a monumental structure in the center of the city thought to have originally served as the Herodian palace (Overman, Olive, and Nelson 2007). With the death of Herod Agrippa II around the turn of the 1st century ce, the city and its district were incorporated into greater Syria (Tacitus, Ann. 12.23; cf. Josephus, Ant. 16.28). A significant corpus of coins from the local mint indicates the adoption of the name Caesarea Paneas at this time. Caesarea Philippi was culturally and architecturally an eastern Greco-Roman pagan city. A major portion of its inhabitants consisted of hellenized Itureans, hellenized Syrians, and ethnic Greeks. There was also a significant Jewish presence: Herod the Great settled a large number of Babylonian Jews in the area (Ant. 17.23–28), and Josephus describes a Jewish community of “many thousands” enjoying quasi-independent political status (Life 54, 61, 74). A number of references to Banias in the Mishnah (m. ’Abot. 6:9) and Talmud (b. Sanh. 98a—the presence of Jose ben Kisma; b. Sukkah 27b—Rabbi Eliezer; cf. Midrash Rabbah to Num 12:3—Rabbi Abbahu—and Pirqe Avot 6:9) suggest that the city became a center for rabbinic scholarship following the fall of Jerusalem in 70 ce (Wilson 2004: 73–75; Urman 1985: 22–24).

Bibliography Z. U. Ma’oz and V. Tzaferis, “Banias,” NEAEHL (1993), 1:136–43. Z. U. Ma’oz and V. Tzaferis, “Banias,” NEAEHL (2008), 5:1587–92.

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J. A. Overman, J. Olive, and M. C. Nelson, “A Newly Discovered Herodian Temple at Khirbet Omrit in Northern Israel,” The World of the Herods (2007), 177–95. D. Urman, The Golan: A Profile of a Region during the Roman and Byzantine Periods (Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, 1985). J. F. Wilson, Caesarea Philippi: Banias, the Lost City of Pan (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2004). J. F. Wilson and V. Tzaferis, “A Herodian Capital in the North: Caesarea Philippi,” The World of the Herods (2007), 131–43. JOHN F. WILSON

Related entries: Coins; Fortresses and Palaces; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herodians; Josephus, Writings of.

Cain and Abel The story of Cain and Abel (Gen 4:1–16) continues the story of the banishment of the first couple from the garden and the conception and birth of their first children. Notwithstanding their initial parallel presentation—with regard to their names, professions, and sacrifices—Cain becomes the main protagonist. Eve offers an etymology for his name by referring to his birth as an act of acquiring or creating a “man” with YHWH (Gen 4:1). The name “Abel” (‫הבל‬, hbl, “nothingness”) fits his role (cf. Josephus, Ant. 1.52). Though YHWH regards Abel’s offering and disregards Cain’s without apparent reason, it is Cain with whom he communicates, asking him to rule over sin, who desires him (4:7; cf. 3:16), and confronting him after the murder of his brother. Though Cain, who considers his ‘wn (‫עון‬, “guilt” and “punishment”) too heavy to be carried, is driven away from the soil, and in his understanding also from God’s presence, he is marked by a protective sign. Cain is later on referred to as the founder of a city and his descendants as the inventors of cultural techniques. The Septuagint translates the unvocalized Hebrew text word for word. By choosing different Greek equivalents and a different phrase division (Gen 4:7), the translation implies a distinction between the brothers’ sacrifices, with Cain being said to have offered his sacrifice incorrectly. The motif of Abel’s blood testifying against Cain (Gen 4:10) is influential in some Second Temple writings (Byron 2011: 167–244). Whereas in Genesis 4 the blood of Abel bears witness against the murder by Cain and thus draws the attention of God, in the Book of Watchers at 1 Enoch 22:5–7 (3rd cent. bce), his blood, testifying from the underworld, seeks punishment against not only Cain but also all Cain’s offspring until they are completely destroyed from the earth. The significance attached to Cain’s deed is reflected in the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch (mid-160s bce) at 89:4, where it is the first misdeed to be narrated in the account of sacred history. The retelling of the Genesis story in Jubilees 4:1–6 (mid-2nd cent. bce) also emphasizes the role of Abel’s blood and goes on to connect Cain’s misdeed to the injunction in Deuteronomy 27:24 that curses anyone who strikes another in malice and likewise condemns those who, unlike Abel’s testimony, see it without reporting what happened. A zenith in Abel’s function is reached in the Testament of Abraham 13:2–4, according to which God assigns him to judge the entire creation, including the righteous and sinners. In a different turn, Orlov has argued that the story of Cain and Abel may have shaped the depiction of the dual functions of Azazel in the Apocalypse of Abraham (as perhaps that of the brother pairs of Ishmael and Isaac, 120

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and Esau and Jacob), with the two goats in the Yom Kippur ritual in the background (Orlov 2016: 15–16). The New Testament, beyond passing mention of Abel’s blood giving witness against injustice (cf. Matt 23:35 par. Luke 11:51), refers to the storyline in Genesis 4 only twice. In 1 John 3:12 Cain becomes a counterexample to brotherly love in Christ. According to Hebrews 11:4 and 12:24, the acceptance of Abel’s offering (over that of his brother) indicates his righteousness in faith, of which the crying of his blood gives testimony even after his death, prefiguring Jesus’ blood speaking of salvation. Since Enoch is mentioned next in the text (Heb 11:5), Hebrews may be influenced by the tradition in 1 Enoch 22 in addition to Genesis 4. Philo of Alexandria refers to Cain and Abel in several of his writings (Cher.; Det.; QG; Sacr.). In these works, Philo uses the narrative to offer ethical discourses about the human soul, whose contending natures mirror the conflict symbolized by the brothers’ sacrifices. Josephus (Ant. 1.52–55) reads with the proto-Masoretic tradition and interprets the story against the background of Greek traditions. Instead of living according to the order of creation, Cain imposes his violent order on nature, striving for profit and power. His profession as a tiller of the ground, his violent act against his brother, and his ensuing search for a new living space and the founding of a city are but a reflection of his way of life. Later rabbinic and related traditions deal with Cain and Abel in various ways. In the Babylonian Talmud the notion of having control over sin in Genesis 4:7 is randomly quoted. For example, the angels make a child forget the Torah in the process of birth, the sin lurking at the door (b. Nid 30b), and men not having mastery over sin is made to reflect the fact that the messiah has not yet returned (b. Yoma I 20a). Among the targumic traditions to Genesis 4, Abel’s murder is triggered by a theological discussion. Cain argues for the world’s creation and rule in God’s (unjustified) mercy, denying God’s justice (Frg. Tg.; Tg. Ps.-J.), or he denies both God’s mercy and justice and the idea of an afterlife and reward (Tg. Neof.; Tg. Yer. II, the latter also Tg. Ps.-J.) While Abel prefigures Israel in the haggadic midrashim, Cain serves as an example for the individual, negatively as a murderer and God’s opponent or even, by contrast, positively as the one who repents (cf. Gen. Rab. 22:7–9; Tanḥ.). During the Second Temple period the paradigmatic functions of Cain and Abel behind the Genesis story are developed with a variety of emphases, whether on Cain as a forerunner of those who murder or mistreat others or as an example not to follow or on Abel as an innocent one whose demand for divine justice continues into the afterlife.

Bibliography J. Byron, Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition: Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the First Sibling Rivalry, TBN 14 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). E. Johanna, Kain und Abel und Israel: Die Rezeption von Gen 4,1–16 in rabbinischen Midraschim, BWANT 192 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2010). A. Orlov, The Atoning Dyad: The Two Goats of Yom Kippur in the Apocalypse of Abraham, Studia Judaeoslavica 8 (Leiden: Brill, 2016). JOHANNA ERZBERGER

Related entries: Adam and Eve; Genesis, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Midrash; Righteousness and Justice; Sacrifices and Offerings; Targumim; Violence. 121

Caiaphas

Caiaphas Joseph Caiaphas was the longest-serving Jewish high priest of the 1st century ce, holding office from 18/19 to 37 century ce. Little is known of his origins, though he almost certainly came from a wealthy, aristocratic family, proud of its distinguished priestly heritage. Tradition links him to Beth Meqoshesh (t. Yebam. 1:10), a place identified by Bauckham as modern Khirbet Qeiyafa (Bauckham 2012). He was probably a Sadducee and along with his native Aramaic would have spoken good Greek, a necessary skill in cosmopolitan Jerusalem. Josephus refers to him as “Joseph who is called (or ‘surnamed’) Caiaphas” (Ant. 18.35, 95). According to John 18:13, Caiaphas married into the powerful high priestly dynasty of Annas (Ananus I). Following the practice of Herod the Great, the Roman governors exercised the right to appoint (and depose) high priests, selecting only men who would uphold Roman interests. Annas had been the first high priestly appointment when Judea became a province in 6 century ce; he held the high priesthood for nine years and was succeeded by five sons. Caiaphas was appointed to the high priesthood in 18 or 19 century ce by the Roman governor Gratus (Ant. 18.35) and was retained in post by Pontius Pilate on his arrival in 26 century ce. Presumably both prefects found him to be competent and reliable. Philo of Alexandria and Josephus record a number of incidents in Jerusalem at this time, though neither specifically mentions Caiaphas (Philo, Embassy 299–305; Josephus, J.W. 2.169– 77; Ant. 18.55–90). He is best known for his role in the execution of Jesus of Nazareth around 30 century ce following an incident in the Jerusalem Temple (Mark 11:15–18 // Matt 21:12–13,

Figure 4.20  First-century ossuary inscribed twice with “Joseph son of Caiaphas.”

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Luke 19:45–46). All four Gospels maintain that Jesus was arrested on the orders of the Jewish leaders before being passed on to Pilate (see also Josephus, Ant. 18.64). Only Matthew and John specifically name Caiaphas in this connection (Matt 26:3, 57; John 11:49, 18:13–14, 24, 28) while Mark and Luke simply allude to “the high priest” (Mark 14:53, 63; Luke 22:54). While the Jewish trial narratives in the Gospels are tendentious and need to be treated with caution, it is quite likely that Caiaphas and a group of advisors met with Jesus to determine how best to deal with him (cf. the similar sequence of events in J.W. 6.300–309; Bond 2004: 64–72). Caiaphas is mentioned again in the early chapters of Acts, now taking measures against followers of Jesus (Acts 4:5–12); he may also be the unnamed “high priest” of Acts 5:17–42 (the trial of Peter and the apostles), 7:1 (the trial of Stephen), and 9:1–2 (the high priest from whom Paul received letters). Caiaphas was removed from office early in 37 century ce by Vitellius, the legate of Syria, for reasons that are no longer clear (Josephus, Ant. 18.90–95). Nothing further is known about him, though his ossuary may have been discovered in 1990 in Talpiyot, Jerusalem (Figure 4.20). He was remembered harshly by both Jewish and Christian tradition, by Jews for his association with the house of Annas (see b. Pesaḥ. 57a) and by Christians for his role in the death of Jesus.

Bibliography R. Bauckham, “The Caiaphas Family,” JSHJ 10 (2012): 3–31. H. K. Bond, Caiaphas: Friend of Rome and Judge of Jesus? (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004). HELEN K. BOND

Related entries: High Priests; John, Gospel of; Josephus, Writings of; Priesthood; Righteousness and Justice; Sadducees.

Cairo Genizah Introduction.  It is widely recognized that the development of Judaism in the Second Temple period cannot be properly understood without reference to the Dead Sea Scrolls. There is, however, another collection of manuscripts that is fairly significant for the study of Jewish religion and literature in that same period, though most of the artifacts date to a millennium later than the scrolls. The Cairo Genizah collection has preserved important evidence about the contents and transmission of books first composed and valued during the Second Temple period, about the later versions of the Hebrew Bible, about the development of post-biblical Hebrew, and about the evolution of Jewish liturgy. Discovery.  A scholarly interest in manuscripts had developed among scholars of Judaism during the 19th century (Reif 2000; Gotein 2003; Hoffman 2011). As a result, collections of complete codices had been purchased by leading libraries in such diverse centers as St. Petersburg, Munich, Berlin, Vienna, Paris, London, Oxford, and Cambridge. In the 1890s and early 1900s individual folios of medieval Jewish manuscripts, generally in a fragmentary state and substantially predating those complete codices, were acquired by academic institutions in those cities, as well as in the United States. They had been amassed in Cairo over a period of some thousand years, the communal officials having abstained from destroying or dishonoring any Jewish text containing sacred writ or the name of God, a custom known as genizah from a Hebrew and Arabic root

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meaning “hide,” “cover,” and “bury.” Scholars, archaeologists, religious leaders, dealers in antiquities, and booksellers of various faiths and nationalities acquired, sold, and donated these fragments. This rich literary and documentary source came to be known as the Cairo Genizah, some three-quarters of which are housed at the Cambridge University Library. The Genizah collections and the Dead Sea Scrolls have much in common: they were not formally collected as an archive, their survival was serendipitous, and it took decades for them to be satisfactorily deciphered, described, and made accessible. They also contribute to modern study of paleography, language, literature, history, and religious culture and have corrected previous erroneous notions about how Judaism developed in the Second Temple and early medieval eras (Figure 4.21). Contents.  The Cairo Genizah has revolutionized most aspects of Jewish studies. More than 220,000 fragments have shed light on how the Hebrew Bible and rabbinic literature were studied,

Figure 4.21  (From the left) Stefan Reif, Israel Yeivin, and Ezra Fleischer sorting Genizah fragments at Cambridge University Library, 1974.

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transmitted, and explained in the premedieval and early medieval periods. They have provided texts often superior to those of the later codices and printed editions and have testified to the Jewish use of Hebrew, Aramaic, and Arabic and to modern knowledge of the evolution of these languages. Tensions about Jewish prayer between the Babylonian leaders and those of the Jewish homeland are gradually being clarified, and understanding of the composition and synagogal function of poetry has been enriched. Discussions about the nature and application of Jewish law and theology have also come to light. Remarkably, the Genizah materials are not simply literary but also documentary. They relate to ordinary daily activities: to relations between Jews, Christians, and Muslims, as well as to major events and personalities. Many items concern travel, commerce, education, literacy, cookery, medicine, and magic, and some texts relate to the status and achievements of women. Importance.  The Genizah collections also improve scholarly understanding of earlier centuries, beginning with the parallels between Genizah texts and Jewish literature from the Second Temple period (Reif 2010). For example, aside from the treasures in the Cairo Genizah, there are virtually no manuscript records of Jewish texts composed between the 2nd and 8th centuries. The Genizah evidence allows the reconstruction, at least speculatively, of what may have developed between the early Christian and rabbinic period and the times of the Crusaders, shedding new light on the religious theories and practices that the successful versions of Christianity and rabbinic Judaism suppressed. By consulting the Cairo Genizah and identifying the clues left there, historians can trace the Jewish religious developments of the talmudic and Geonic eras. Many Genizah texts were not composed formally by authoritative teachers and leaders but constitute the views and notes of private individuals without any agendas (“counter-history”). They represent non-standard versions of what was experienced, thought, and stated by the Jew in the pew, rather than by the preacher in the pulpit. Special Links.  Even more important for the Second Temple period are Genizah fragments that record, at least partially, medieval versions of works found among the Dead Sea Scrolls. These not only testify to the textual history of such literature but also indicate that they somehow survived in Jewish circles. The Damascus Document (CD) is now known to have been an important religious tract with connections to the ideas of various Jewish sects in pre-Christian times. It was discovered in the Cairo Genizah by Solomon Schechter 50 years before a much larger proportion of it was identified among the Dead Sea Scrolls (Schechter; Reif 2010: 669–72). First brought to light by Agnes Lewis and Margaret Gibson, and identified by Schechter, the Hebrew version of the early 2nd-century collection of proverbs and sayings composed by Yeshua Ben Sira records how a learned and pious Jew regarded the Jerusalem Temple, the priesthood, education, and spirituality in a predominantly Hellenistic environment. It also establishes the existence of a Hebrew text that often predates the Greek and Syriac versions preserved by the Church. The Aramaic Testament of Levi, still being discovered in Genizah collections, goes back to the 3rd or 2nd century bce and differs from Ben Sira especially with regard to qualifications for the perfect ruler or priest. Additionally, clear textual overlaps exist between the Aramaic fragments from the Genizah and the Dead Sea and the Greek versions of the deuterocanonical literature of the Catholic Church. For instance, there are Hebrew and Aramaic versions of the apocryphal Book of Tobit among the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Hebrew texts in the Genizah collections. While the other three works mentioned above may have had a continuous and authentic textual format from the Second Temple period until Genizah times,

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the Genizah versions of Tobit cannot be traced back earlier than the Byzantine period and in some cases may constitute medieval versions of Greek originals. All these works link the Dead Sea and the Genizah and suggest some sort of ongoing transmission process lasting a thousand years, rather than a sudden discovery of lost manuscripts around 800, as is often suggested.

Bibliography A. Hoffman, Sacred Trash: The Lost and Found World of the Cairo Geniza (New York: Schocken, 2011). S. D. Gotein, A Mediterranean Society; the Jewish Communities of the Arab World as Portrayed in the Documents of the Cairo Geniza, rev. by J. Lassner (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003). S. C. Reif, A Jewish Archive from Old Cairo: The History of Cambridge University’s Genizah Collection (Mitcham, Surrey: Curzon Press, 2000). S. C. Reif, “Reviewing the Links between Qumran and the Cairo Genizah,” OHDSS (2010): 652–79. S. Schechter, Fragments of a Zadokite Work (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1910). STEFAN C. REIF

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings.

Calendars The accurate way to measure time, and the calendars that resulted from this pursuit, were of major concern in Early Judaism. The Hebrew Bible does not provide a complete calendar that could have served as an authoritative foundation for later time calculations. It is not even clear that all books of the Bible follow the same calendrical system. There appear to be three distinct systems of naming the months of the year: the early writers used Canaanites month names (e.g. “Abib” in Exod 13:4 and 23:15); biblical authors from around the time of the exile used ordinal numbers (“first,” “second,” and so forth; cf. 2 Kgs 25:1, 3; but also 1 Macc 4:52; 9:3); and postexilic books use the Hebrew version of the Babylonian month names (Ezra 6:15; Neh 2:1; 6:15; Esth 3:7). The Astronomical Book of Enoch (1 En. 72–82), which dates from the 3rd century bce, is commonly considered the oldest Jewish document with a more systematic description of the calendar. It describes two calendar traditions side by side, a solar 364-day year (e.g. 1 En. 72:32; 74:10) and a lunar or luni-solar 354-day year (1 En. 73; 78:6-17), without privileging one over the other. The significance of the moon for the reckoning of the calendar is emphasized in Ben Sira, a text from ca. 175 bce. Sirach 43:6–8 states categorically, “It is the moon that marks the changing seasons.” And in Sirach 50:6 the author refers to “the full moon and the festal season.” This suggests that for Ben Sira “the moon, not the sun, plays the decisive role in connection with the holidays” (VanderKam 1998: 27). By contrast, the Book of Jubilees, written shortly after Ben Sira (ca. 160–150 bce), forcefully defends the solar calendar and categorically rejects the idea that the moon is of any calendrical significance: “And you [Moses] command the children of Israel so that they shall guard the years in this number, 364 days, and it will be a complete year. And no one shall corrupt its [appointed] time from its days or from its feasts” (Jub. 6:32). A few verses later the author harshly condemns those who prefer the lunar year (Jub. 6:34). Its author strongly rejects the lunar calendar of the Astronomical Book and of Ben Sira. Also unlike the Astronomical Book, Jubilees provides exact dates for some of the sacred festivals (e.g. the Festival of Weeks in 6:10-22) and other biblical events (Jub. 1:1; 6:23-37; 14:20; 15:1). Unlike the luni-solar calendar of 354 days, the 364-day solar year is perfectly symmetrical. It consists of four-quarters of three months each, in which the first two months of each quarter consist 126

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of 30 days each, while the third month has an additional 31st day. There are 52 weeks to a year, and 13 weeks per quarter. The year begins on a Wednesday, since it was on the fourth day of creation that God created the luminaries for calendar reckoning (Gen 1:14-19). The number 364 is exactly divisible by seven, which means that every date occurs on the same day of the week each year. Festivals are thus reckoned differently in the luni-solar and 364-solar calendars and therefore occur on different week days of the year. Following the solar year, for example, Jubilees is the first Jewish text that provides a specific date for the Festival of Weeks (or Shavu’ot), the festival associated with the giving of the Torah and the renewal of the covenant. Like the Temple Scroll from Qumran, Jubilees dates the Festival of Weeks to 3/15, “in the third month, in the middle of that month” (Jub. 15:1), i.e., on a Sunday. The author of Jubilees insists that its date was “written in the heavenly tablets” (6:17) and hence should be strictly observed (6:32-38). In the lunar year, the Festival of Weeks is determined by counting 49 days, or 7 weeks, from the second day of Passover, to which it is linked (cf. Lev 23:15-16; Deut 16:9-12), and so occurs on different week days from year to year. One may also add the example of Passover: the author of Jubilees dates Passover to “the fourteenth of the first month ... the night on the evening of the fifteenth from the time of sunset” (Jub. 49:1; cf. Exod 12), so that it falls on a Tuesday evening on a Wednesday. According to the lunar calendar, Passover begins on the fifteenth day of the month of Nisan and, again, the week day changes each year. The correct reckoning of time was also of great importance at Qumran (Talmon 1989; Glessmer 2000). Copies of the Astronomical Book and Jubilees were found among the scrolls, which indicate that these books were known by and had some influence on the community. Like the author of Jubilees, the community believed that the 364-day year was divinely ordained. The Rule of the Community makes clear that the correct calendar was a decisive issue for the community (1QS i 8–15; ix 26–10:8; cf. CD xvi 2–4). The author of the Temple Scroll (11QTa xii–xxix) provides the names and dates for a number of holidays. A short prose section of the large Psalms Scroll (11QPsa), known as “David’s Compositions,” states that David wrote “364 songs to sing before the altar for the daily perpetual sacrifice, for all the days of the year; and 52 songs for the Sabbath offerings” (11Q5 xxvii 5–7). Over 20 of the Dead Sea scroll texts are calendrical, including lists of Sabbaths and festivals. Another way of structuring longer cycles of time at Qumran was the mishmarot (cf.1 Chr 9:23; 26:2; Neh 7:3; 12:9), which is the Hebrew term for the priestly service watches at the Temple (cf. 4Q321–330). Neither the Astronomical Book, Jubilees, nor the Dead Sea scroll texts deal with the problem of intercalation. A 364-day solar calendar would have deviated 1 ¼ days from the actual solar calendar and, over time, would have lagged behind the agricultural year. By contrast, the rabbinic authorities of the Mishnah were clearly aware of the problem and introduced the “second Adar” (m. Meg. 1:4; m. Ned. 8:5).

Bibliography S. Talmon, “The Calendar of the Covenanters of the Judean Desert,” in The World of Qumran from Within: Collected Studies (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1989), 147–85. MATTHIAS HENZE

Related entries: Astronomy and Astrology; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Festivals and Holy Days; Stars; Sun and Moon.

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Canon and the Canonical Process

Canon and the Canonical Process The canon of Scripture is the definitive, authoritative collection of divinely inspired books recognized and accepted as the sacred texts which form the rule of faith for a major religious group. It is a theological terminus technicus denoting the closed list of books produced as a result of the community’s reflexive decision that the sacred writings that have come to function authoritatively are now formally ratified as their constituent Scriptures. Etymology offers little clarification, since the term in theological or biblical discussion is not found until Christianity had well developed. A form of the word, meaning “reed,” occurs already in Sumerian and later passes into Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. The material meaning expanded into a conceptual meaning of “standard” or “rule,” with Greek forming more metaphorical meanings. The Hebrew word does not occur in the Hebrew Bible in its theological sense; Ezekiel uses it to mean “measuring rod” (40:3, 5; 41:8; 42:16–19; see also Isa 46:6). Nor does the Greek word occur in the Septuagint or the New Testament, except once in Galatians 6:16, in the unspecified sense of “correct practice,” with no relation to scriptural books. As Metzger observed, the word is Greek, the usage with relation to the Bible arose in Christian circles, and the idea of a growing collection of Scriptures originated in Judaism (Metzger 1987: v). The discovery of over 200 biblical Dead Sea Scrolls raised the question of whether a clearer understanding of the Hebrew Bible canon was possible. The discussion is often confusing because of varying uses of the term. Thus, it is important to note several essential elements: (1) “The canon of Scripture” is a technical term and should accordingly be used properly. (2) It denotes a closed list, and so the notion of an “open canon” breeds confusion. (3) It involves books not the textual form of the book; despite the pluriformity of the text in antiquity, the various communities endorsed the books, and it is unknown whether they were conscious of, or concerned about, the differences between the variant forms (e.g. Old Greek–4QJerb vs. Masoretic Text–4QJera). (4) It is also the result of a reflexive judgment, the retrospective result of a process ending in a formal judgment ratifying the situation that has gradually come to be. The canon is the end of a long, gradual, and complicated historical process which could be labeled the canonical process. The insight of Trebolle is instructive and should be explored: “However important the final decision of a religious authority concerning the officially recognized list of books might be, the historical process by which particular books come to acquire sacred character and canonical recognition is more important” (Trebolle 1998: 151). The canonical process involved a number of historical shifts in the history, literature, and religion of Israel, each occurring on different chronological trajectories and usually gradually (Ulrich 2015: 265–316): ●● ●● ●●

●●

●●

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a shift from the national literature of Israel to the sacred Scripture of Judaism, a shift from a Temple-based religion to a text-based religion in Judaism, a shift from the pluriformity and creativeness in composition of the text of the books of Scripture to a “frozen” (not “standardized”) single textual form for each book, a shift in viewing revelation as dynamic and ongoing to seeing it as a verbal event in the recorded past, a shift in format from the many individual scrolls of the Scriptures to the single codex.

Canon and the Canonical Process

It is also important to distinguish concepts related to, but distinct from, canon. An authoritative work, whether religious or secular, is one that is recognized as determinative for conduct (e.g. a law code). A book of Scripture is a sacred, inspired authoritative work. The textual form of a book was pluriform and still developing in the Second Temple period, circulating in different forms, each recognized as Scripture. The canonical process was the journey of the various books from their early stages as religious literature, through their recognition as inspired Scripture, to their acceptance into the final, definitive collection of the delimited canon. Canon is a static concept, the final result of an inclusive and exclusive judgment ratifying what has come to be. The Bible is a unified entity: a textual form of the fixed, authoritative collection of the Scriptures of a faith group. With those distinctions it is possible to assess the state of the canonical process at Qumran, in rabbinic Judaism, and in the New Testament. Beyond “the Torah and the Prophets,” no tradition offers a clear statement or a list of the canonical books prior to the Second Revolt (132–135 ce). Partial criteria are citation with introductory formulae, quotation as Scripture, the existence of a large number of manuscripts, being the object of commentaries and being of sufficient importance to be translated. At Qumran there is very strong evidence for the canonical status of the Pentateuch, Psalms, Isaiah, and the Twelve Prophets. There is reasonably strong evidence for Jubilees, 1 Enoch, and Daniel. There is some evidence for Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Job, and Proverbs. In contrast, Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Ruth, Canticles, and Lamentations were known literature, but there is no convincing evidence that they were yet considered Scripture. The evidence for Ecclesiastes, Esther, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles is negligible, and the Halakhic Letter (4QMMT) and Ben Sira are ambiguous. Similarly, for the New Testament, there are many quotations from the Torah, Psalms, and Isaiah; a modest number from Proverbs, Jeremiah, Daniel, and the Twelve; a few from Joshua, 1–2 Samuel (Nathan’s prophetic oracle), 1–2 Kings, 2 Chronicles, Nehemiah, and Ezekiel; but none from Judges, 1 Chronicles, or Ezra. For Judaism near the end of the 1st century ce Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.38) speaks of 22 books whereas 4 Ezra (2 Esdras) 14:45–46 speaks of not only 24 but also 70 for “the wise.” The later Rabbis probably agreed upon the 24-book Tanakh in the early or middle 2nd century ce.

Bibliography J.-M. Auwers and H. J. de Jonge, eds., The Biblical Canons. Colloquium Biblicum Lovaniense BETL 163 (Leuven: Leuven University Press and Peeters, 2002). L. M. McDonald and J. A. Sanders, eds., The Canon Debate (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2002). B. Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and Significance (Oxford: Clarendon, 1987). J. Trebolle Barrera, The Jewish Bible and the Christian Bible: An Introduction to the History of the Bible, trans. W. G. E. Watson (Leiden: Brill; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). EUGENE ULRICH

Related entries: Ezra, Fourth Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Text Types, Hebrew; Torah, Traditioning of.

129

Capernaum

Capernaum Capernaum was an ancient fishing village on the northwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee. Its name likely derives from the Hebrew Kefar-Nahum (‫“ ;כפר נחום‬Village of Nahum”), though its name is unattested in the Hebrew Bible. It is known in ancient literature as the place where Jesus resided (Mark 2:1) after having left his home town of Nazareth (Matt 4:13). From here he is said to have called his first disciples (Matt 4:13–22), including Simon Peter and Andrew, who lived in Capernaum (Mark 1:29), to have performed miracles (Matt 8:5, 14; 9:20), and to have taught in a synagogue (Mark 1:21; cf. John 6:59). It is noted by Josephus for its temperate climate, which was ideal for a thriving agriculture (War 3.519; cf. Life 403). The archaeological site of Capernaum is divided into a southwestern Franciscan side and a northeastern Greek Orthodox side. A large body of work has now been published on the Franciscan excavations, especially those under V. Corbo and S. Loffreda (1968–2003). The pre-Arab strata of the Greek Orthodox excavations under V. Tzaferis (1978–1987) remain only partially published. For documentation, see Mattila (2015). Most of the data recovered, and hence most of what visitors to Capernaum see today, date to Late Roman and Byzantine times. Nevertheless, there is sufficient evidence from Second Temple times to provide a rough idea of the site’s changing character during this earlier period (Mattila 2013, 2015). From 220 to 100 bce, the number of cooking vessels in the ceramic profile suggests that the settlement was very small. There was a high proportion of fine dining dishes, either Eastern Terra Sigillata or some other fine ware imported from the Mediterranean coast. There were also many amphorae, of which 42% were imported all the way from Rhodes in 167–100 bce and 30% in 100–63 bce. In addition to six stray coins from Seleucia, Ptolemais, Apamea, and Tyre, dating from 223–143 bce, an emergency hoard of some 360 Seleucid coins was found in a jar (Seyrig 1973, no. 45). Out of these, 70 tetradrachms and 8 didrachms were identified, dating from 146–126 bce, all minted at Tyre. A silver nude and bearded male statuette stashed with the hoard and a clay female head found at the site suggest that the small Hellenistic settlement was pagan. In about 63 bce, radical demographic changes occurred in the village. The number of cookware specimens increased exponentially, suggesting a sudden and dramatic growth in population, which may now have reached 800–1,000 inhabitants. The newcomers were patently Jews, for the finds exhibit the typical Jewish markers of this period: (1) the cookware was now overwhelmingly of the Kefar-Ḥananya type, produced not only at Kefar-Ḥananya but also at Kefar Shikhin, Yodefat and probably other Galilean villages; (2) imports from Rhodes ceased; (3) imported coastal fine wares plummeted to a trickle; (4) ritually pure stone vessels appeared (264 specimens were found, including a core, suggesting that Capernaum was even a production center of such vessels); and (5) of the 15 coins from 103 bce–70 ce, one is a Tyrian shekel, the standard silver coinage used by Jews in this period; ten are Jewish coins minted in Jerusalem, including two of the Jewish Revolt; three are coins of Agrippa II from Sepphoris and Caesarea Philippi; and only one is a civic issue from Sidon. After 70 ce, the number of cooking-ware specimens again rose substantially, suggesting that the population now reached perhaps 1,200 inhabitants, its highest peak until the 3rd century. This perhaps was due to an influx of dislocated Judeans after the suppression of the Revolt. The coins from 70 to 135 ce reflect the shift in political control. They include bronze civic issues from Tyre, coins of Agrippa II from Caesarea Paneas, and coins of Domitian, Hadrian, and Trajan from Caesarea Maritima, Tiberias, and Gaza. A milestone with a Latin inscription dedicated to

130

Capernaum

Hadrian was discovered about 500 m northeast of the village center. Around the time of the Bar Kokhba revolt of 135 ce, there was a decrease in the number of cookware specimens, suggesting a drop in population at this time. The centuries of later occupation at Capernaum mean that very few of the standing remains within the village date to the Second Temple period. As the partial plan of the site shows (see Figure 4.22), in Area 1 the Franciscan excavators unearthed remains of a domestic quarter dating from 200 bce to 135 ce underneath two later Christian shrines that were successively built on top of it, the first quadrilateral in shape and the second octagonal. The Franciscans designated this domestic quarter the “House of Saint Peter,” on account of later ancient pilgrim testimony. In fact, however, the walls of this quarter were so greatly disturbed by the two later public structures

Figure 4.22  Capernaum: Partial plan.

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Catacombs (Rome)

built on top of them that it is unclear whether they originally belonged to a single house or to more than one, or whether the focal point of the later shrines was a double-room or a courtyard. Because they were not sacrificed to later public structures, the houses of Area 2 and its western adjacent Area 9 were better preserved. A large Early Roman courtyard (97 m2) was identified, which was only later subdivided into smaller rooms and courtyards, belonging to a house in Areas 2+9, with a possible area of 317.5 m2, including the room where a fine set of Early Roman glassware was found. Because the masonry of the Early Roman houses was similar to that of their later counterparts, it is probable that they likewise contained staircases leading either to their roofs or to a second floor, and that their walls, roofs, and ceilings were likewise plastered with a smooth clayey lime-poor plaster. In addition, underneath the prayer hall of the limestone synagogue there may have been two earlier synagogues, the first constructed out of the local basalt stone and dating to the 1st century ce (De Luca 2013; cf. John 6:59; Mark 1:21). It would have been much smaller than the later limestone synagogue, however, for part of the area under the latter’s prayer hall and all of the area under its eastern courtyard once consisted of private dwellings dating back to the Hellenistic period. There may also have been a Roman-style bathhouse in the Second Temple period village, for such a bathhouse—dating to the 2nd–3rd centuries but built on top of an earlier structure which may well have served the same function—was unearthed on the Greek Orthodox side of the site (Laughlin 1993). Also dating to the 1st–2nd centuries is the mausoleum of high-grade architecture found 200 m north of the inhabited area, containing eight kokhim niches carved into the rock, in line with Jewish burial practices, and five limestone sarcophagi.

Bibliography S. De Luca, “Capernaum,” OEBA 1 (2013): 168–80. J. C. H. Laughlin, “Capernaum: From Jesus’ Time and After,” BAR 19 (1993): 55–61, 90. S. L. Mattila, “Revisiting Jesus’ Capernaum: A Village of Only Subsistence-Level Fishers and Farmers?” in The Galilean Economy in the Time of Jesus, ed. D. A. Fiensy and R. K. Hawkins (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 75–138. S. L. Mattila, “Capernaum, Village of Naḥum, from Hellenistic to Byzantine Times,” Galilee 2 (2015), 217–57. H. Seyrig, Trésors du Levant anciens et nouveaux (Paris: Librairie orientaliste P. Geuthner, 1973). SHARON LEA MATTILA

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Baths; Galilee; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Pottery; Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish.

Catacombs (Rome) Catacombs are large, underground cemeteries. They typically consist of an intricate network of underground galleries. The actual tombs, known as loculi, are rectangular burial slots that are found hewn into the walls of the subterranean galleries. Walls characteristically contain rows of at least four or five loculi on top of one another. All of this explains why the catacombs of Rome are huge affairs. They contain a cumulatively estimated total of 500,000 tombs with as many as 750,00 burials (see Figure 4.23).

132

Catacombs (Rome)

Figure 4.23  Plan of the two Jewish catacombs under Villa Torlonia on the Via Nomentana in Rome.

Although catacombs are found throughout Italy and in several other places around the Mediterranean, the catacombs of Rome outstrip all the others in terms of number (several dozen), size, and historical importance, as well as regarding the inscriptions and artwork preserved in them. The Roman catacombs are also unique in that in addition to many Christian catacombs, several Jewish examples survive. These include the so-called Monteverde catacomb (now largely vanished), the two interconnected Jewish catacombs under the Villa Torlonia on the Via Nomentana, and the Vigna Randanini catacomb near the Via Appia. It is not known how the catacombs were administrated. Even so, it is clear that both the Jewish and early Christian catacombs functioned as communal burial grounds that were used for the inhumation of the dead belonging to these respective religious communities. It has often been argued that the catacombs of Rome are a typically Christian invention (Rutgers 2006a). A series of radiocarbon datings performed at Utrecht University clearly indicates that this notion now needs revision, suggesting that the idea of catacomb burial may have originated with the Roman Jewish community instead, as early as the 1st century ce. Burial in the Jewish

133

Catacombs (Rome)

catacombs of Rome continued well into the early 5th century, as suggested, again, by radiocarbon data of Jewish pottery lamps. In terms of their formal appearance the Jewish and the Christian catacombs of Rome are similar, if not identical. What distinguishes the Jewish catacombs as Jewish are the artwork and inscriptions that survive in them (see Figure 4.24). The artwork consists of wall paintings, sarcophagi, lamps, and gold glasses; these are often but not always decorated with Jewish motifs, in particular with the menorah. The inscriptions, of which some 600 survive, were mostly composed in Greek and to a lesser extent in Latin. Hebrew and Aramaic are largely absent. The Jewish inscriptions in Greek and Latin show a remarkably high degree of cultural adaptation, on a number of levels. At the same time, they also document the continued importance of Jewish traditions. Recent research on the demography of those buried in the Jewish catacombs has indicated that the Jewish community in ancient Rome must have been significantly smaller in numerical terms than that has been suggested previously (Rutgers 2006b). Such research also indicates that life

Figure 4.24  Painted Jewish funerary inscription written in Greek, lower Villa Torlonia catacomb.

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expectancy among the Jews of ancient Rome was appallingly low, with half of the community passing away before reaching their fifth birthday. Such low life expectancy figures are another telling example of the integration of Roman Jews into contemporary non-Jewish society.

Bibliography L. V. Rutgers, “Sul problema di come datare le catacombe ebraiche di Roma,” BAB 81 (2006a): 169–84. L. V. Rutgers, “Reflexions on the demography of Jewish community in ancient Rome,” in Les cités de l'Italie tardo-antique (IVe-Vie siècle): institutions, économie, société, culture et religion, ed. M. Ghilardi, C. J. Goddard, and P. Porena (Rome: École française de Rome, 2006b), 345–58. LEONARD V. RUTGERS

Related entries: Burial Practices; Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim); Cemeteries (Bethshean); Cemeteries (Qumran); Death and Afterlife; Ossuaries.

Celibacy While in rabbinic Judaism early marriage with frequent sexual relations was recommended (m. Ketub. 5:6–7; 7:2–5; b. Yebam. 61b–63a), in Second Temple Judaism celibacy was practiced by some who sought to be particularly dedicated to God, at least for periods of time. This practice was probably influenced by Greco-Roman philosophy, where celibacy was esteemed for those pursuing a philosophical life (Plato, Laws 838a, 841b–c; Musonius Rufus, Discourse 6 and 12; Diogenes Laertius, Vitae 8:9; see Deming 2004: 47–104). Influence of the Hebrew Bible.  The prescription of Genesis 1:28, “Go forth and multiply,” was interpreted to mean “a man should aim to have children,” as Philo indicates (Det. 147–8; Praem. 108–9). In the Mishnah (m. Yebam. 6:6), the prescription did not rule out periods of celibacy after or during marriage. Celibacy could occur prior to a delayed marriage. In the Testament of Levi (11:1) Levi marries at age 28, and Levi’s daughter marries Ambram when they are both 30 (12:1–5). In the Testament of Issachar (1:28) the patriarch does not marry until he is 35 (or 30, according to some texts: see Macarthur 1987: 180). Based on Exodus 19:15 where Moses tells the male Israelites, “prepare for the third day; do not go near a woman,” it was thought that Moses became celibate after his encounter with God on Sinai (so Philo, Mos. 2:66–70; Cher. 41, 47), an idea also found in b. Yebam. 62a; b. Ŝabb. 67a; b. Pesaḥ. 87b; see Macarthur 1987: 171–2). Boyarin (1993: 159–65) even notes several instances of later rabbis adopting periods of celibacy. Celibacy in Religious Groups. Essenes are described as a (mature) male group, living communally, who do not bring wives into these arrangements (Philo, Hypoth. 11:14–17; Josephus, J.W. 2:120–21; Pliny, Nat. 5:15). While some are celibate, some have wives, or have had wives, who are simply not “shared” (Philo, Hypoth. 11:14–17; Josephus, Ant. 18.21; J.W. 2.120–21, 160–1; see Taylor 2011, 2012: 43–45, 68–70). Essene men who marry do so to ensure that they have physical offspring (Josephus, J.W. 2.160–1). Their wives are therefore not celibate. Philo of Alexandria describes a celibate philosophical community (the “Therapeutae,” θεραπευταί) outside Alexandria, the men leaving behind children and wives (Contempl. 13, 18).

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Thus Philo indicates that the men fulfilled their obligations. However, he describes the women as “mostly old virgins” (Contempl. 68, cf. 2, 32–33, 69, 83–88; see Taylor 2003: 248–62). In the Dead Sea Scrolls celibacy has been read in CD vii 6–9, where those who marry and have children in camps may be differentiated from “men of perfect holiness” (so Qimron 1993). This oppositional reading is disputed, however, and beyond this one passage there is little on celibacy in the corpus (Regev 2008; Loader 2009: 129–30; Heger 2013). No sex (involving “impurity”) is permitted in Jerusalem (CD xii 1–2, cf. 11QTa xlv 11–12), though. The 4th-century Christian writer Epiphanius describes “Pharisees” (Pan. 1:16, from ‫פרושים‬, prûšym) as having periods of celibacy (four, eight, or ten years) in which they adopt practices to avoid night-time comfort, including sleeping on a narrow bench or on thorns. The text Epiphanius is using is unknown, though it relates to the Second Temple period, since these “Pharisees” sacrifice in the Temple. Likewise, according to Epiphanius, “scribes” could have periods of celibacy (Pan. 1:15:1:7; see Taylor 2012: 185–86). The Jesus Movement and Paul.  Male disciples of Jesus were asked to become “eunuchs” for the Kingdom of God (Matt 19:12, cf. Isa 56:4). In Luke 20:34–36 those who are judged worthy of resurrection “do not marry” (cf. Matt 22:30). In Luke 18:29 “wives” are included in the households left by the (male) disciples (cf. also Luke 14:26). In Revelation 14:1–15 the 144,000 men singing before the throne are those who have kept their virginity and not been “defiled” with women. The apostle Paul allows celibacy among married couples for the purposes of effective prayer (1 Cor 7:5); he permits marriage, but prefers the celibate state (1 Cor 7:1, 8–9) since it exhibits a person’s “self-control” (Duling 2004).

Bibliography D. Boyarin, Carnal Israel: Reading Sex in Talmudic Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993). W. Deming, Paul on Marriage and Celibacy: The Hellenistic Background of 1 Corinthians 7, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004). P. Heger, “Celibacy in Qumran—Hellenistic Fiction or Reality? Qumran’s Attitude Toward Sex,” RevQ 101.26 (2013): 53–90. H. Macarthur, “Celibacy in Judaism at the Time of Christian Beginnings,” AUSS 25 (1987): 163–81. E. Qimron, “Celibacy in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Two Kinds of Sectarians,” The Madrid Qumran Congress (1993), 287–94. E. Regev, “Cherchez les femmes: Were the Yahad Celibates?” DSD 15 (2008): 253–84. J. E. Taylor, “Women, Children and Celibate Men in the Serekh Texts,” HTR 104.2 (2011): 171–90. JOAN E. TAYLOR

Related entries: Family; Intermarriage; Josephus, Writings of; Marriage and Divorce; Purification and Purity; Sexuality.

Celsus the Physician Aulus Cornelius Celsus was the author of a general encyclopedia dealing with agriculture, medicine, military art, rhetoric, philosophy, and law (Quintilian, Inst. 12.11.24). Only the medical section of the encyclopedia, which was entitled De medicina, has survived (Lederer 2016). It is the first major medical treatise in Latin and consists of eight books on diet, pharmacy, 136

Celsus the Physician

surgery, and related fields. The material is derived to a large extent from Greek sources. The work provides a systematic view of the fields of medicine and is the most important extant source concerning medical knowledge in the ancient Roman world. Practically nothing is known about the life of Celsus. He probably came from Narbonensis (Gallia) and lived in Rome during the reign of the emperor Tiberius (14–37 ce). The question whether Celsus was a practicing physician or a medical writer without professional healing experience has been controversially discussed among scholars (cf. Prioreschi 1998: 190–92). Celsus is quoted by ancient writers such as Columella, Pliny the Elder, and Quintilian, but none of them refers to him as a physician. However, a number of passages in his work seem to indicate that he indeed regularly attended patients and was a learned medical practitioner. With regard to pharmacy, Celsus goes into great detail concerning the preparation of numerous remedies including plasters and compounds. One of the authorities quoted by Celsus is a medical writer or physician called Iudaeus who wrote an otherwise unknown book on remedies. The name Iudaeus seems to not only be used as a Jewish proper name but can also be interpreted as a reference to a Jewish author whose identity Celsus does not know. Celsus states that among those plasters useful for a fractured skull, there is one ascribed to the writer Iudaeus (Celsus, med. 5.19.11). Later in his book he recommends a compound of the same Iudaeus, consisting of lime and red soda mixed with urine (med. 5.22.4). In his remarks on surgery, Celsus describes techniques to restore the foreskin of a person whose glans might be bare for natural reasons or who “according to the custom of certain nations” has been circumcised (med. 7.25.1; Rubin 1980; Schultheiss 1999). Jews are not mentioned, but in Roman antiquity they became particularly associated with circumcision (Stern 1976: 368–69). The main purpose of disguising circumcision was to avoid mockery in public baths and wrestling schools where the exhibition of the naked body was a common practice. Many circumcised Jews desired to restore their foreskin in order to improve their social and economic standing in the GrecoRoman world. The oldest evidence for the practice of uncircumcision (epispasm) dates to the reign of Antiochus IV Epiphanes (175–164 bce): When the high priest Jason erected a gymnasium in Jerusalem during the process of hellenization, many Jews reversed their circumcision artificially (1 Macc 1:11–15). Celsus is the first author who is known to have given a detailed description of an operative procedure for uncircumcision. Subsequent medical works in antiquity only contained a repetition of these methods without presenting any new details.

Bibliography T. Lederer, ed. and trans. A. Cornelius Celsus De Medicina—Die medizinische Wissenschaft, 3 vols. (Darmstadt: WBG, 2016). P. Prioreschi, A History of Medicine Vol. III: Roman Medicine (Omaha: Horatius Press, 1998), 186–216. J. P. Rubin, “Celsus’s Decircumcision Operation. Medical and Historical Implications,” Urology 16 (1980): 121–24. D. Schultheiss, “The History of Foreskin Restoration,” in Male and Female Circumcision: Medical, Legal, and Ethical Considerations in Pediatric Practice, ed. G. C. Denniston, F. M. Hodges, and M. F. Milos (New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers 1999), 285–94. BERND KOLLMANN

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Healing; Hellenism and Hellenization; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Medicine and Hygiene.

137

Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim)

Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim) The ancient settlement of Beth Sheʿarim (‫בית שערים‬, Βησάρα, Bēsara) is first mentioned by Josephus (Life, 118–119) as a town on the border of the district of Ptolemais (Acre) where grain from neighboring villages was gathered and stored by Queen Berenice. The name later appears numerous times in rabbinic literature, most saliently with reference to the activities of the late 2ndcentury Patriarch Rabbi Judah I and his subsequent interment at the site (e.g. y. Kil. 9:4 [32b]). Beth Sheʿarim is identified today with the hilltop known as Sheikh ʾAbreik in Lower Galilee (adjacent to modern Kiryat Tivʿon). The settlement is built on the summit of the hill, while a large cemetery extends around the hill’s northern and western slopes (Figure 4.25). Large-scale excavations conducted at both the settlement and the necropolis (intermittently from 1936 to 1959) revealed that the main period of construction and activity at the site dates to the late 2nd–4th centuries ce, although an earlier phase dating to the late Second Temple period through the first half of the 2nd century ce has also been identified (Avigad 1976: 1–17). Among over two dozen tombs excavated at the site, only three burial caves have been dated to the late Second Temple period—all on the basis of typological considerations relating to the architecture of the tombs (Avigad 1976: 259–67). The largest and most complete of these (Cave 31) consists of two adjoining rooms with sunken floors and in total eight loculi (burial niches) hewn into the walls (Avigad 1976: 124–25). The entrance to the cave is small (0.50 m

Figure 4.25  General plan of the Beth She’arim Excavations.

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Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim)

Figure 4.26  Plan and sections of Catacomb 21.

high) and was closed by a heavy sealing stone with a projecting boss in the center. Fragments of a clay ossuary lid were found in this tomb (Avigad 1976: Fig. 57), a find which points to the practice of ossilegium (secondary burial). Another cave (Hall A of Cave 21) with a similar sunken floor consists of a single room with seven loculi (Avigad 1976: 117) (Figure 4.26). Here too, the entrance to the cave is a small opening (0.69 × 0.55 m) closed with a sealing stone. A third cave (unnumbered, adjoining Hall N in Cave 1) also features a sunken floor, with six loculi and a trough grave hewn parallel to the far wall opposite the entrance (Mazar 1973: 22, Fig. 5). While artifacts definitively dating to the late Second Temple period were not found in any of these caves, the architectural form of all of these tombs closely resembles that known from burial caves found elsewhere in the country which can be dated confidently to the 1st and early 2nd centuries ce (Avigad 1976: 261). Excavators have reported on additional tombs of this type on the slopes of the hills north of Beth Sheʿarim (Mazar 1973: 22).

Bibliography N. Avigad, Beth Sheʾarim: Report on the Excavations during 1953–1958, Vol. III: Catacombs 12–23 (Jerusalem: Massada Press, 1976). B. Mazar (Maisler), Beth She’arim: Report on the Excavations during 1936–1940, Vol. I: Catacombs 1–4 (Jerusalem: Massada Press, 1973). YONATAN ADLER

Related entries: Burial Practices; Death and Afterlife; Cemeteries (Bethshean); Cemeteries (Qumran); Josephus, Writings of; Ossuaries.

139

Cemeteries (Bethshean)

Cemeteries (Bethshean) Bethshean, a Hellenistic city which Greeks called Scythopolis during the Second Temple period (Josephus, e.g. Ant. 5.84; 6.374; 12.348), is located at the point where the Jezreel and Jordan valleys meet, some 28 km south of Lake Galilee (Figure 4.27: 1; Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). Roman-period cemeteries have been found north, east, and west of the city. The necropolis of Bethshean was first explored by the University of Pennsylvania in 1921–1933 during excavations on the tel (Figure 4.27: 2) and at the Monastery of Lady Mary (Figure 4.27: 3). Since the burial

Figure 4.27  Plan of Roman-Byzantine Bethshean (Scythopolis).

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ground lay north of the tel on the southward-facing slopes of Tell Iztabba overlooking Naḥal Harod (Wadi Jalud), it was dubbed “The Northern Cemetery” (Figure 4.27: 4). Only a small portion of the total cemetery was explored. The tombs were cut into the natural hill of Tell Iztabba. Though dating mainly to the Bronze and Iron Ages, burials from the later Roman-Byzantine period were found here as well, in many cases cutting into the earlier hewn structures. Tomb 37 (Loculus type) and Tomb 40 (Arcosolium type) both cut into Tomb 29 from Early Bronze IV and the Late Bronze Age. Most notable among the Roman finds was a stone sarcophagus inscribed with the name of Antiochus, son of Phallion, possibly a cousin of Herod the Great. Roman sarcophagi have also been recovered along the approach road to Scythopolis from Legio (Megiddo) to the west (Figure 4.27: 5). A tomb complex east of the city (Figure 4.27: 6), originally intended as a family tomb, contained a mass burial of 142 skeletons. A similar number were apparently buried in a nearby cave, which was destroyed before the excavations began. The dating of these mass graves to the end of the Second Temple period raises the possibility that they belonged to the Jewish inhabitants of Scythopolis who had been massacred on the eve of the Great Revolt in 66 ce (Josephus, Life 24–27; J.W. 2.466–468).

Bibliography B. A. Isaac and I. Roll, Roman Roads in Judaea 1: The Legio-Scythopolis Road, British Archaeological Reports International Series 141 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982). E. D. Oren, The Northern Cemetery at Beth Shan (Philadelphia/ Leiden: The University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania/Brill, 1973). ROBERT A. MULLINS

Related entries: Bethshean (Scythopolis); Burial Practices; Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim); Cemeteries (Qumran); Death and Afterlife; Ossuaries; Revolt, First Jewish.

Cemeteries (Qumran) The cemeteries are a major feature of the archaeological profile of the Qumran site in the Late Hellenistic and Early Roman period. Graves are found on the northeast and east sides of the cluster of buildings, as well as south of the Wadi Qumran. A total of 1,077 burials have now been identified, spread out in four cemeteries. The largest one is an area of regular graves close to the boundary wall of Khirbet Qumran, divided into three sections, with three fingers stretching eastwards (Eshel, Broshi, Freund, and Schultz 2002). Tombs here have been noted and excavated since the mid-19th century; Clermont-Ganneau (1874: 83) opened one and Poole (1856: 69) another (see Taylor 1999). Excavations of graves since 1949 have shown them usually to be formed of a deep shaft (1.5 m or more) with a loculus covered by slabs or stones under which the body was placed. Roughly contemporaneous similar graves are found elsewhere in Judea and along the Dead Sea coast, on both the west and east sides, particularly at Khirbet Qazone in the southeast. At Qumran each grave was marked by an oval-shaped pile of stones with a head and foot stone indicating the orientation of the body; there are few grave goods. Most of the graves are oriented north-south (Figure 4.28), while some are east-west or other (esp. in the south finger of the main cemetery and the south cemetery). The majority of the graves hold male skeletons, but female skeletons are also identified and should 141

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Figure 4.28  Several north-south graves in the southern part of the cemetery near Khirbet Qumran.

not be ignored (Taylor 1999; Norton 2003; Eshel, Broshi, Freund, and Schultz 2002: Table V: 161–63; Donceel 2002). The dating of the burials is difficult due to lack of grave goods, and the bone is generally too poor for radiocarbon dating (see Sheridan, Ullinger and Ramp 2003: 137). The graves may then derive from any point in the settlement of the site, from the early 1st century bce to the late 1st or early 2nd century ce, or even later. Zias (2000) suggested that all of the east-west burials of Qumran are Bedouin, which removes some burials of women (and children) from the sample of evidence relevant to the Early Roman period. While his theory is widely cited, scientific studies indicate a more complex picture. Some linen from the southern cemetery was radiocarbon dated to 565–635 ce at 1 sigma (Rasmussen et al. 2005), cohering with a Byzantine date of the jewelry from one of the graves (Clamer 2003: 171–72). While Zias suggested three graves of the southeastern finger of the main cemetery (T34, T35, T36) and two of the southern cemetery (T32, T33) were also Bedouin, Clamer (2003: 175–76) has noted that the earrings from T33 and a crumbled glass bead from T32 are Byzantine (4th to 8th/9th centuries). In ground observations for a project identifying pathways around Qumran, Taylor and Gibson (2011: 16–17) noted that burials continue in the area around Iron Age remains (Khirbet Irneh), south of the Wadi Qumran for around 100 m. These may be Bedouin, on the basis of (18th–19th cent.) pottery on the surface, but only excavation would enable more clarity. In 2001–2002 a male skeleton oriented east-west alongside two female skeletons in secondary burial was excavated in Tomb 1000 (Nagar 2002), in what has been defined as a mourning enclosure (Eshel, Broshi, Freund, and Schultz 2002: 147–53), though the unlikely fusion of a tomb and a mourning enclosure is rightly critiqued by Zias (2003). A cooking pot from the 1st century and radiocarbon dating of a tooth suggest a Hellenistic period burial (170–40 bce at 1 sigma; Eshel, Broshi, Freund, and Schultz 2002: 151). Grave 978 contained some thin, folded metal, analyzed as pure zinc (Izraeli 2002), allegedly a coffin, but pure zinc is apparently more likely to be modern (Zias 2003: 88–92). 142

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One of the curious features of the cemetery is that some graves do not contain human remains. A total of seven graves, including two out of nine graves opened in the excavations of Magen and Peleg, yielded nothing identifiable, indicating the contents had decomposed; two of these also contained buried jars of date honey (2007: 45–46). This find leads to questions about what other kinds of materials were placed in graves, especially given that sacred scrolls are buried in cemeteries to this day (see Taylor 2011, 2012: 290–92).

Bibliography C. Clamer, “Jewellery Finds from the Cemetery,” in Khirbet Qumrân et ‘Aïn Feshkha II, ed. J.-B. Humbert and J. Gunneweg (Fribourg: Academic Press, 2003), 171–84. C. Clermont-Ganneau, “The Jerusalem Researches III,” PEFQS 5 (1874): 80–84. R. Donceel, The Khirbet Qumran Cemeteries: A Synthesis of the Archaeological Data (Crackow: The Enigma Press, 2002). H. Eshel, M. Broshi, R. A. Freund, and B. Schultz, “New Data on the Cemetery East of Khirbet Qumran,” DSD 9 (2002): 135–65. R. Hachlili, “Burial Customs at Qumran,” RQ 62 (1993): 247–64. E. Izraeli, “Appendix B: Test Results from the Metal Coffin,” DSD 9 (2002): 164. Y. Nagar, “Appendix C: Bone Study of Burial 1000,” DSD 9 (2002): 165. J. Norton, “Reassessment of Controversial Studies on the Qumrān Cemetery,” Khirbet Qumrân et ‘Aïn Feshkha, II. Études d’anthropologie, de physique et de chimie. Studies of Anthropology, Physics and Chemistry, ed. J.-B. Humbert and J. Gunneweg (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), 107–26. H. Poole, “Report of a Journey in Palestine,” JRGS 26 (1856): 55–70. E. Puech, “The Necropolises of Khirbet Qumran and Ain el-Ghuweir and the Essene Belief in Afterlife,” BASOR 312 (1998): 21–36. K. L. Rasmussen, J. Gunneweg, G. Doudna, J. E. Taylor, M. Bélis, J. van der Plicht, J.-B. Humbert, and H. Egsgaard, “Cleaning and Radiocarbon Dating of Material from Khirbet Qumran,” in Bio- and Material Cultures at Qumran, Proceedings of Cost Action G8 Working Group 7, ed. J. Gunneweg, C. Greenblatt, and A. Adriaens (Stuttgart: Fraunhofer IRB Verlag, 2005), 139–64. S. G. Sheridan, “Scholars, Soldiers, Craftsmen, Elites? Analysis of French Collection of Human Remains from Qumran,” DSD 9 (2002): 199–248. S. H. Steckoll, “Preliminary Excavation Report in the Qumran Cemetery,” RevQ 6 (1968): 323–44. J. E. Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts and Empty Tombs: The Genizah Hypothesis Reconsidered,” in “Go out and study the Land” (Judg 18:2): Archaeological, Historical and Textual Studies in Honor of Hanan Eshel, ed. A. Maeir, J. Magness, and L. Schiffman, JSJSup 148 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 269–316. J. E. Taylor, “The Cemeteries of Khirbet Qumran and Women’s Presence at the Site,” DSD 6 (1999): 285–323. J. E. Taylor, “Nineteenth Century Visitors to Khirbet Qumran and the Name of the Site,” PEQ 134 (2002): 144–64. J. E. Taylor and S. Gibson, “Qumran Connected: The Paths and Passes of the North-western Dead Sea,” in Qumran und Archäologie—wechselseitige Perspektiven, ed. J. Frey and C. Claussen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 1–51. R. de Vaux, F. Rohrhirsch, and B. Hofmeir, Die Ausgrabungen von Qumran und En Feschcha IA Die Grabungstagebücher, German translation and notes by Ferdinand Rohrhirsch and Bettina Hofmeir (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996). J. Zias, “The Cemeteries of Qumran and Celibacy: Confusion Laid to Rest?” DSD 7 (2000): 220–53. J. Zias, “Qumran Archaeology: Skeletons with Multiple Personality Disorders and Other Grave Errors,” RevQ 81 (2003): 83–98. JOAN E. TAYLOR

Related entries: Burial Practices; Cemeteries (Bethshean); Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim); Dead Sea Scrolls; Death and Afterlife; Ossuaries. 143

Chaeremon of Alexandria

Chaeremon of Alexandria Chaeremon was an Alexandrian scholar and Stoic philosopher active around the middle of the 1st century ce. According to the Suda (cf. van der Horst 1984: 8–9) he was the head of the Alexandrian school of grammarians and (perhaps) keeper of the famous Museum in Alexandria (Frede 1989: 2075–81). He may have been a member of the Greek embassy that went to Rome in 40 ce as a result of the growing tensions between Greeks and Jews in Alexandria, following accusations that the Jews were failing to properly honor the emperor. The Suda also states that he was tutor to the young Emperor Nero. Fragments and accounts of his writings are preserved in later authors and indicate that he wrote across a wide range of topics. He wrote a hellenizing History of Egypt as well as works on hieroglyphics and comets and a grammatical treatise. He is cited by Porphyry (Contra Christianos frag. 39) and Tzetzes (Exegesis of the Iliad 1.193) as a significant figure in the Stoic tradition of allegorizing. Josephus criticizes Chaeremon’s anti-Semitic account of the Exodus, which identifies the Jews as a “polluted people,” for its falsehoods and anachronisms (Ag. Ap. 1.288–303).

Bibliography M. Frede, “Chaeremon der Stoiker,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II 36.3 (1989): 2067–103. P. W. Van der Horst Chaeremon, Egyptian Priest and Stoic Philosopher, EPRO 101 (Leiden: Brill, 1984). JENNY BRYAN

Related entries: Allegory; Egypt; Emperor Cult; Greek Philosophy; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Imperial Cult, Jews and the; Josephus, Writings of; Roman Emperors.

Chronography “Chronography” refers to the pursuit, expressed in writing, of historical chronology and the measuring of time. In Judaism of the Second Temple period, this interest arose from various, sometimes overlapping, concerns. In the much-discussed “apocalypse of 70 weeks” (Dan 9:24–27), the angel Gabriel’s revelation to Daniel takes the form of a sweeping survey of history, segmented into fixed and divinely foreordained chronological epochs. Disputes about the liturgical calendar and the celebration of festivals and holy days underpin the highly detailed chronology of the Book of Jubilees, a retelling of biblical history from Adam to Moses composed sometime in the late 2nd century bce. For Josephus, comparative chronography proved to be a useful instrument in the culture wars of the Hellenistic age; the study of Jewish, Greek, and Egyptian chronology, he writes, will prove that, compared to Moses, the great lawgivers of the Greeks were “born but yesterday” (Ag. Ap. 2.154). Exegesis of Jewish Scriptures might also require resolution of chronological discrepancies or filling in temporal gaps in the biblical narrative. Attention to problems in biblical chronology first appears in the fragmentarily preserved work of Demetrius, a Hellenistic Jewish historian of the late 3rd century bce (Bickerman 1980; Holladay 1983: 51–91). Although Demetrius’ examination of Jewish Scriptures (in his case, the Septuagint version) extended into many realms, the modern 144

Cicero

epithet “chronographer” accurately captures, if only partially, his general orientation. One subject of immediate concern to him had to do with the 430 years that the Greek text of Exodus 12:40–41 assigned to the sojourn of the children of Israel in Canaan and Egypt. By supplying dates lacking in the biblical text, Demetrius sought to demonstrate that the 430 years from Jacob to Moses could be divided evenly: 215 years in Canaan and 215 years in Egypt. Chronological amplification of the biblical narrative, including a painstaking timeline of events preceding the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden, is also a distinctive feature of the Book of Jubilees (Ravid 2003). Beginning from creation, the book groups years, each consisting of 364 days, into cycles of 49 years, which are further divided into cycles of seven “weeks” of years. The author, whose partisan advocacy of the 364-day “solar” year is undisguised (cf. Jub. 6:22–38), makes lofty claims about the source of the work’s schematized periodization of world history and the binding and eternal authority of the liturgical calendar on which it is based. Tracing the discovery of the calendar to the ante-diluvian patriarch and sage Enoch (4:17), Jubilees describes its own record “of the events of the years and throughout all the years of the world” as a transcription of a divine revelation given to Moses (1:28). In the Greek chronographic tradition, historians and chroniclers tended to be wary about the trustworthiness of their sources for the dating of events even of the relatively recent past. Jewish authors who saw the hand of divine providence guiding the orderly flow of time rarely expressed such misgivings (Grabbe 1979). Whether it was to provide an empirical foundation for apocalyptic speculation, to establish the antiquity of Moses and the Jewish people, or to promote the use of a particular calendar, they were comfortable pushing the temporal frontiers of the past well beyond anything that their Greek counterparts would have considered possible or even imaginable.

Bibliography E. Bickerman, “The Jewish Historian Demetrius,” in Studies in Jewish and Christian History (Leiden: Brill, 1980), 2:347–58. J. Finegan, The Handbook of Biblical Chronology, 2nd ed. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2015). L. L. Grabbe, “Chronography in Hellenistic Jewish Historiography,” SBLSP 17 (1979): 43–68. L. Ravid, “The Book of Jubilees and its Calendar—A Reexamination,” DSD 10.3 (2003): 371–94. WILLIAM ADLER

Related entries: Apocalypse of Weeks (1 Enoch 93:1–10; 91:11–17); Calendars; Daniel, Book of; Demetrius the Chronographer; Festivals and Holy Days; Historiography; Josephus, Writings of.

Cicero Cicero (106–43 bce), the famous Roman orator, mentions Jews/Judaism twice in his surviving works, in Pro Flacco and De provinciis consularibus. Later authors also attributed to him and his teacher anti-Jewish sentiment, in Plutarch’s Cicero and Josephus’ Against Apion, respectively. It is unclear whether Cicero’s anti-Jewish comments are merely rhetorical tactics or reflect personal hostility. In Cicero’s Pro Flacco 28, a speech given in 59 bce, Cicero defends his client Flaccus against the charge of seizing gold given by Jews to the Jerusalem Temple. Cicero speaks of 145

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Judaism as a “barbaric superstition,” the Jewish mob’s proclivity to riot, and the Jews’ forfeiture of rights by rebelling against Rome. In Cicero’s De provinciis consularibus 5.10, given in 56 bce, Cicero attacks the politician Aulus Gabinius for forfeiting to Jews the right to collect taxes in their provinces. Cicero describes Jews and Syrians as people “born for slavery,” perhaps a reference to their tributary status as in Pro Flacco. Both primary source texts indicate that Jews were widely present in the Roman Empire and possessed at least some financial means and political power. Plutarch’s Cicero 7, ca. 100 ce, contains Cicero’s quip “What has a Jew to do with a pig?” (Quid Judaeo cum Varre?), with the latter being a word-play relating to the defendant he was attacking (Varres, lit. “boar” or “pig”) as well as his lawyer, the Roman official Cecilius, who possessed known Jewish sympathies and may have been a “god-fearer.” Josephus’ Against Apion 2.7, 15 et al., (cf. Juvenal, Sat. 14; Strabo, Geog. 16.2.26–29; Diodorus 34.) also ca. 100 ce, mentions Apollonius Molon, the teacher of both Cicero and Julius Caesar. Josephus does not quote Apollonius, but explicitly groups him with other polemicists who attacked Judaism based on its rejection of the state pantheon and the unknown rituals within the Temple.

Bibliography J. Barclay, “Against Apion,” in A Companion to Josephus, ed. H. H. Chapman and Z. Rodgers (Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, Ltd., 2015), 75–86. A. Marshal, “Flaccus and the Jews of Asia,” Phoenix 29.2 (1975): 139–42. T. Reinach, Textes d’auteurs grecs et romains relatifs au judaïsme, ed. E. Leroux (Paris: Publications de la Société des Etudes Juives, 1895). PAUL ROBERTSON

Related entries: Diodorus Siculus; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Persecution, Religious; Rights of Jews in the Roman World; Tribute and Taxes.

Circumcision According to Genesis 17, circumcision was the sign of the covenant that God established with Abraham. All of Abraham’s male descendants should practice the rite, circumcising their slaves and sons on the eighth day after birth (cf. Lev 12:3). In general, the Hebrew Bible assumes the practice of circumcision (Exod 4:24–26; Josh 5:2–8). Other texts stress that the heart also must be circumcised (Lev 26:41; Deut 10:16; 30:6; Jer 4:4; 9:26). Biblical (e.g. Jer 9:25–26) and archaeological evidence suggest that Israel was one of many ancient Near East nations that practiced circumcision, although it may have been unique in performing infant circumcision (Bernat 2009: 59–63). Thus, it was likely during the Babylonian exile, when surrounded by uncircumcised people, that Israel began to view circumcision as an important identity marker (Blaschke 1998: 64–105). Circumcision became even more central to Jewish identity in the Hellenistic period in response to Jews who abandoned the rite (Collins 1985). According to Maccabean literature, some Jews convinced Antiochus IV Epiphanes to turn Jerusalem into a Greek city and also underwent epispasm, regrowing their foreskins (1 Macc 1:15; cf. Josephus, Ant. 12.241). Antiochus then outlawed circumcision among Jews so that all people might become one (1 Macc 1:48, 60–61; 146

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2 Macc 6:10; 4 Macc 4:24–26; cf. T. Mos. 8.1–3; Josephus, Ant. 12.254–256; J.W. 1.34). The Maccabean revolt and subsequent Hasmonean policies not only reinstituted circumcision (1 Macc 2:46), but also compelled non-Jews living in Hasmonean-controlled territories to either practice circumcision or leave their lands (Josephus, Ant. 13.257–258, 318–319). In the wake of the Antiochan persecution, the author of Jubilees acknowledges that Israel failed to keep circumcision (Jub. 15:33) and stresses that it must take place on the eighth day after birth (Thiessen 2011: 67–86). Circumcision connects Israel to the two highest orders of angels, who are also circumcised (Jub. 15:27). Not only does the rite set Israel apart from other nations, it also protects them from angelic interference (Jub. 15:11–33). Philo begins On the Special Laws with a justification of the rite, discussing both hygienic and reproductive benefits to it (Spec. 1.1–5, 7). He further avers that a circumcised penis resembles the heart. Philo claims that these justifications come from other people. To these he adds his own: first, circumcision functions to curb passion, and, second, it teaches men humility inasmuch as it points to God as the true source of creation and offspring (Spec. 1.10– 11; cf. QG 3.46–52). Building on the biblical notion of an uncircumcised heart, Philo argues that uncircumcision represents the life devoted to pleasure and passion (e.g. Migr. 224; QE 2.2). Elsewhere, he acknowledges that others share this allegorical reading of circumcision, but that while they conclude that one no longer needs physical circumcision once one understands its significance, he thinks that one must still observe the actual rite (Migr. 89–92; Livesey 2010: 41–76). Other Jews also speak of an inner circumcision of the heart (e.g. Jub. 1:23; 1QS v 5, 26; 1QpHab xi 13). Despite the role that circumcision played in constructing Jewish identity, many Jews acknowledged that other ethnicities also observed the rite. Philo points to the practice among Egyptians (Spec. 1.2), while Josephus claims that Arabs, following Ishmael, undergo circumcision at the age of 13 (Ant. 1.214), and that Ethiopians, Egyptians, and Phoenicians practice circumcision (Ant. 8.262; Ag. Ap. 1.169; 2.141–142; cf. Herodotus, Hist. 2.104; cf. Diodorus Siculus 1.55.5; 1.28.3). In fact, according to Artapanus, the Ethiopians learned circumcision from Moses (3.10). While earlier Greco-Roman writers observe that non-Jews practice circumcision (Aristophanes, Ach. 157–158; Plut. 267; Strabo, Geogr. 16.4.17; 17.2.5), the 1st-century Roman satirists assume that readers would connect circumcision to Jews exclusively (Petronius, Sat. 102; Martial, Ep. 7.30, 35; 11.94; and Persius, Sat. 5.184; cf. Suetonius, Dom. 12). Juvenal provides evidence that gentile Judaizing was well known: when non-Jewish men adopt some Jewish customs, their sons inevitably go further, getting circumcised (Sat. 14.96–106). Tacitus, too, connects circumcision to Jews, claiming that they distinguish themselves from others by circumcision and that non-Jews undergo circumcision when they adopt Judaism (Hist. 5.2–5). As Juvenal and Tacitus mention, for many Jews circumcision functioned as an entrance rite into Jewishness. For instance, Judith depicts Achior the Ammonite believing in Israel’s God and then undergoing circumcision (Jdt 14:10; cf. Gen 15:6; 17:24). Josephus relates that Izates, a 1stcentury ce king of Adiabene, underwent circumcision (Ant. 20.17–47). Similarly, Metilius offers to judaize and be circumcised to save his life (J.W. 2.454; cf. Esth 8:17 LXX). Circumcision was a central dispute among early Christ followers. Paul wrote three letters to combat the belief that gentile Christ followers needed to undergo circumcision (Gal 5:2–5; 6:13– 15; Rom 2:28–29; Phil 3:2–5; Thiessen 2016: 26–101), and post-Pauline literature demonstrates that such concerns continued after Paul’s day (Eph 2:11; Col 2:11–13; 3:11; Titus 1:10; cf. 147

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Acts 15:1–5). Luke not only stresses that God gave circumcision to Abraham (Acts 7:8) but also mentions the circumcisions of John the Baptist and Jesus (Luke 1:59; 2:21). For Luke, circumcision remains valid for Jewish followers of Christ (e.g. Acts 16:3), but should not be practiced by gentile followers of Christ (Acts 15:19; 21:17–26).

Bibliography D. A. Bernat, Sign of the Covenant: Circumcision in the Priestly Tradition, AIL 3 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2009). A. Blaschke, Beschneidung: Zeugnisse der Bibel und verwandter Texte (Tübingen: Francke, 1998). J. H. Collins, “A Symbol of Otherness: Circumcision and Salvation in the First Century,” in “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity, ed. J. Neusner and E. S. Frerichs, SPSH (Chico: Scholars, 1985), 164–86. P. Fredriksen, “Judaism, the Circumcision of Gentiles, and Apocalyptic Hope: Another Look at Galatians 1 and 2,” JTS 42 (1991): 532–64. N. E. Livesey, Circumcision as a Malleable Symbol, WUNT 2.295 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). M. Thiessen, Paul and the Gentile Problem (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). MATTHEW THIESSEN

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Covenant; Covenantal Nomism; Genesis, Book of; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Pauline Letters; Persecution, Religious; Revolt, Maccabean.

Cisterns and Reservoirs Definitions.  A cistern is an underground storage facility for water, typically from rain, which is collected during the winter and used during the dry season until the installation is refilled. Cisterns were widely applied for domestic water supply in the Second Temple period in Eretz Israel, among the Jewish and non-Jewish populations alike (Kloner 2001–2002). Such installations were found in almost every settlement. The Mishnah distinguishes between a private cistern (‫בור היחיד‬, bwr hyḥyd) installed inside one’s home and a public cistern (‫בור הרבים‬, bwr hrbym) that might be shared by a few houses (m. ʿErub. 2:4). An artificial reservoir is a high-capacity covered cistern or an unroofed water pool used for water storage. Descriptions.  In most cases, cisterns were hewn into the bedrock, plastered with hydraulic mortar and roofed by natural rock. A small, sinking basin was often installed on the route of the water flow to ensure the filtering out of sediments. Cisterns were of bell-shaped, rectangular, or irregular form. The mouth of a small/middle-size cistern was typically covered by a narrow round slab with an opening for drawing water (‫חוליה‬, ḥwlyh; m. ʿErub. 10:7). Some cisterns were furnished with narrow rock-cut stairs that enabled access into the chamber for repair or for drawing water. In domestic contexts, house owners collected rainwater from roofs and used gutters to lead water into the underground installation. On large private estates, sloped conduits were installed to catch runoff water and then divert its flow into subterranean cisterns. This is seen, for example, at Masada, where twelve cisterns on the western slope below the fortress could contain, on average, 4,000 m3 of water each (Figure 4.29). Even in Jerusalem, which was supplied by aqueducts, findings demonstrate that rainwater was the main source of water for households. Before the city’s destruction in 70 ce, Jerusalem 148

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Figure 4.29  Cistern below the plateau on the northwest side of Masada.

Figure 4.30  Unroofed water pools on a schematic map of Jerusalem, 70 ce. Figure 4.31  Pool of Hezekiah on the northwest of the old city of Jerusalem (taken ca. 1900–1905), looking north.

did not have a water distribution infrastructure that could supply private houses. A typical house in the Upper City, the residential quarter of the high socioeconomic layer of society, had two or three rock-hewn cisterns of 50–100 m3 capacity each (Reich 1984: 2; see Map 12c: First Jewish War: Siege of Jerusalem [70 ce]). An ample supply of water was vital in Jerusalem, since the city was the destination of regular large-scale Jewish pilgrimage movement to the Jerusalem Temple. The literary sources attest efforts to store water for use in the Temple precinct and for pilgrims staying in Jerusalem. According to the Tosefta, annual preparation for the arrival of pilgrims before the Passover holiday included the repairing of cisterns, wells, and water channels (t. Šeqal. 1:1–2). Subterranean cisterns are frequently mentioned by sources discussing the Temple Mount of the Second Temple period (e.g. Sir 50:3; Let. Aris. 88–90; cf. m. Mid. 5:4; m. Parah 3:2–3; m. ʿErub. 10:14). The Mishnah identifies a “cistern digger” (‫חופר שיחין‬, ḥwpr šyḥyn) among the Temple’s administrative staff who was in charge of maintaining these facilities (m. Šeqal 5:1–2; Schwartz 1985: 11). Over 40 underground cisterns were surveyed beneath the Temple Mount compound during the 19th century (Gibson and Jacobson 1996). The largest of these cisterns were supplied by aqueducts, whereas others collected rainwater. The capacity of the largest reservoir was estimated at 12,000 m3. 149

Cisterns and Reservoirs

However, the limited accessibility of these locations to archaeologists means that much about these installations remains uncertain. Pools.  Unroofed pools were often constructed in cases when the large dimensions of a planned reservoir made it unpractical for covering. Pools were also convenient when builders wished to put only limited efforts into collecting runoff water by impeding a topographical valley (wadi) with dams. Jerusalem stands out among cities in the region and the Roman-Hellenistic world for its significant number of unroofed pools (Figure 4.30; Gurevich 2017). While some of these pools are undated, such as the pool near the Tombs of the Kings (1) and the pool under Hamam as-Shefa (6), most of these facilities date to the Late Second Temple period, such as the Pools of St. Anne’s Church compound (2), Birkat Israil (3), the Twin Pools (4), the Pool of Hezekiah (5; see Figure 4.31), the Sultan’s Pool (7), the unnamed pool in the Kedron Valley (8), and the Pool of Siloam (9). The largest of these installations, Birkat Israil (3), was 110 × 38 m, over 24 m in depth, and incorporated a dam 14 m wide. Josephus mentions some pools as prominent landmarks in his topographical description of Jerusalem on the eve of the First Jewish Revolt (J.W. 5.108, 145, 467–468). Tacitus believed that Jerusalem’s pools and underground cisterns were used to store water for the time of siege (Hist. 5.12:1). Indeed, most of the pools functioned as water reservoirs for public needs, but not necessarily for wartime. The pools provided drinking water for the vast number of pilgrims that steadily increased since the mid-2nd century bce. The location of pools outside the Jerusalem’s walls, in proximity to sites where pilgrims pitched their tents, implies that these installations constitute the prime drinking water source for the arrivals (Gurevich 2015, 2017). Other pools in Jerusalem were used for ritual immersion (cf. John 5:7; 9:7; see Figure 2: the southern Pool of St. Anne’s church compound [2] and the Pool of Siloam [9]); some installations could also be utilized for agriculture and for strengthening the city’s fortifications. The so-called “Solomon’s Pools” near Bethlehem consisted of operational tanks for aqueducts leading to Jerusalem (Mazar 2002: 230–31). Their total capacity is estimated to be 288,000 m3. This way of regulating water flow corresponds in effect to the castellum aquae in Roman hydraulic systems. Pools were discovered also in the palaces of the Hasmonean and Herodian dynasties (e.g. in Caesarea Maritima, Herodium, Hyrcania, Jericho, and Masada), though they were used for swimming rather than for storing water (Netzer 1985; 2001; cf. Josephus, Ant. 15.53–55; see Map 12d: First Jewish War: Siege of Masada [73/74 ce]). Remarkably, a huge artificial pool (ca. 69 × 46 × 3 m) was constructed by Herod the Great in the lower Herodium complex (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). This pool accumulated water by an aqueduct and served as a site for both leisure activities (e.g. swimming, sailing) and, architecturally, for transforming the arid desert landscape into a favorable wet environment (Netzer 2001).

Bibliography S. Gibson and D. M. Jacobson, Below the Temple Mount in Jerusalem: A Sourcebook on the Cisterns, Subterranean Chambers and Conduits of the Ḥaram Al-Sharif (Oxford: Tempus Reparatum, 1996). D. Gurevich, “How were Jerusalem Water Pools Used in the Late Second Temple Period?” in New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and Its Region 9, ed. G. D. Stiebel, O. Peleg-Barkat, D. Ben Ami, and Y. Gadot (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2015), 145–74 (Hebrew).

150

Clearchus of Soli

D. Gurevich, “The Water Pools and the Pilgrimage to Jerusalem in the Late Second Temple Period,” PEQ 149.2 (2017): 103–34. A. Kloner, “Water Cisterns in Idumea, Judaea and Nabatea in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods,” ARAM 14 (2001–2002): 461–85. A. Mazar, “Survey of the Aqueducts to Jerusalem,” The Aqueducts of Israel (2002), 210–42 E. Netzer, “The Swimming-Pools of the Hasmonean Period at Jericho,” Eretz-Israel 18 (1985): 344–52 (Hebrew). R. Reich, “Domestic Water Installations in Jerusalem of the Second Temple (=Early Roman) Period,” in Papers at the Symposium on Historical Water Development Projects in the Eastern Mediterranean, Jerusalem, 21–22 March, 1983, ed. G. Garbrech (Braunschweig: Leichtweiss-Institut für Wasserbau der Technischen Universität Braunschweig, 1984), 1–13. J. Schwartz, “Be’er Ha-qar, Bôr Heqer and the Seleucid Akra,” Cathedra 37 (1985): 3–36 (Hebrew). DAVID GUREVICH

Related entries: Agriculture; Architecture; Domestic Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Jerusalem, Archaeology of; Masada, Archaeology of.

Clearchus of Soli Clearchus, one of the first Greek authors to mention Jews, was originally from Soli in Cyprus. Precise dates for his activity are unknown. He is recalled, however, not only as a Peripatetic philosopher but also as a student and close associate of Aristotle. In light of this information, his activity can be dated to the second half of the 4th century bce. Plutarch avers that he “perverted many doctrines of the school” (Fac. 920 E). Since the early Peripatos was hospitable to different positions, this remark is to be taken as evidence of how his views were received. His works are not extant. According to Josephus, Clearchus presented the Jews as a nation of philosophers: “The philosophers in India are called Calani and in Syria Jew, by the name of the place they inhabit, Judea” (Ag. Ap. 1.75).

Bibliography S. Tsitsiridis, Beiträge zu den Fragmenten des Klearchos von Soli (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013). F. Wehrli, Die Schule des Aristoteles. Volume 3: Klearchos, 2d ed. (Basel: Benno Schwabe, 1969). S. White and T. Dorandi, Clearchus of Soli (New Brunswick: Transaction, forthcoming). ANDREA FALCON

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Philosophy; Josephus, Writings of.

Cleodemus Malchus Cleodemus Malchus/Malchas is known from one fragment found in two versions, one in Josephus (Ant. 1.239–241) and the other in Eusebius (Praep. ev. 9.20.2–4) quoting Josephus. Josephus cites Alexander Polyhistor, most likely Alexander’s Concerning Libya. Cleodemus thus wrote before Alexander, i.e. before the mid-1st century bce. The fragment focuses on three of Abraham’s grandsons from Keturah (Gen 25:1–6): Asshurim (= Soures) through his son Dedan and Ephah (= Iaphras) and Epher (= Iapheras)

151

Clothing and Dress

through Midian. Cleodemus sees Asshurim as the eponymous founder of Assyria, while the city Ephra/Aphra and the country Africa were named after the other two. These last two, he narrates, fought with Herakles against Libya and the giant Antaeus. Herakles married Iaphras’ daughter. She begat Diodorus Siculus, who in turn begot Sophon “from whom the barbarian Sophakes are named.” This genealogy has much in common with that of Juba II in Plutarch Sertorius 9. While Juba probably appropriated this story to bolster his right to rule Mauretania, given to him by Augustus in 25 bce, Cleodemus used the genealogy to claim fictive kinship of Jews with Herakles. As Abraham’s descendants are the eponymous founders of Assyria and Carthaginian Africa, Jews have a claim to live in those areas, and this might suggest that Cleodemus lived around Carthage. While scholars have suggested that Cleodemus was a heathen, a Samaritan or some other Semitic ethnicity, as the Semitic name Malchus/Malchas is found among Nabatean Arabs (see Holladay 1983: 257, n.10), and while there is no certainty as to his identity, his interest in Abraham’s descendants would argue for Cleodemus being Jewish.

Bibliography S. R. Asirvatham, “Kleodemos-Malchos,” BNJ 727 F (2012): 1. R. Doran, “Cleodemus Malchus,” OTP 2 (1985): 883–87. ROBERT DORAN

Related entries: Genealogies; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Nabatea.

Clothing and Dress The clothing, headgear, and hairstyles of the vast majority of ancient Jews would have been indistinguishable from those of their non-Jewish neighbors. The garments most commonly worn by men and women throughout Mediterranean and Middle Eastern antiquity were woven woolen tunics— shorter (commonly worn by men and children) or longer (commonly worn by women and the elderly); belted or unbelted; fine or coarse; dyed, undyed, or striped; simple or embroidered (Cleland, Harlow, and Llewellyn-Jones 2005). Such tunics could be topped by woven woolen wraps of various sorts depending on custom, age, climate, fashion, status, and so on, including ones that could be pulled up over the head when weather, ritual, or local etiquette required. Sandals likely would have completed the ensemble for those with the means and need for them. For some, garments of linen supplemented or replaced those of wool (Figure 4.32). Clothes of other fibers were rare. Notwithstanding biblical injunctions commanding Israelites to affix ritual fringes to the corners of their garments (Num 15:37–41; Deut 22:12) and not to “round the corners of the head” nor “mar the corners of the beard” (Lev 19:27), no mention is made of any such distinguishing practices among Jews by contemporaneous observers during this period. Among the textiles of Jewish provenance surviving from the 1st century ce or earlier, none bear remains of corner-fringes although a bundle of threads identified by excavators as a partially completed ritual fringe has been found dating to the 2nd century ce (Figure 4.33). There are, likewise, no surviving images of

152

Clothing and Dress

Figure 4.32  Linen shirt from the Cave of Letters (Naḥal Ḥever).

Figure 4.33  Ritual fringes from the Cave of Letters (Naḥal Ḥever).

males or females with distinctive garb or barbering to signify Jewishness in this era (ShlezingerKatsman 2010). At the same time, concern to signal clear distinctions between “men’s clothing” and “women’s clothing” is a common feature across both Jewish and non-Jewish cultures throughout antiquity (von Wees 2005: 47). The biblical denunciation of cross-dressing found in Deuteronomy 22:5 is reiterated in Second Temple Jewish texts (e.g. in 1 En. 98:2; cf. Tg. Ps-J. to Deut 22:5), indicating persistent anxiety about gender. The Torah also enjoins Israelites to bind words of divine command upon their hands and heads (Deut 6:8, 11:18). This practice and its ritual accoutrements known as tefillin or phylacteries do receive mention by both Philo and Josephus (although not by non-Jewish authors). Remains of tefillin have been recovered from the caves associated with the Qumran sectarians (Barthélemy and Milik 1955: 7). One 1st-century ce sectarian text describes the visible wearing of both ritual fringes and tefillin by some Jews. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus calls for both obedience to and derision of Pharisees, who, it is claimed, “do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long” (Matt 23:2–5). This passage may imply that only sectarians or the exceptionally pietistic wore such ritual accessories, or that, if other Jews did so, they did so unobtrusively. Jesus himself, according to the Synoptic Gospels, appears to have been among those who wore clearly visible ritual fringes (Matt 9:20, 14:36; Mark 6:56; Luke 8:44). Other finds from the Qumran caves, read in light of Josephus’ descriptions of Essene practice (J.W. 2.119–261), suggest that the sectarians of the Dead Sea community dressed entirely in white garments—down to their linen loincloths. Some scholars surmise that these sectarians styled their clothing, like their purity practices, after those prescribed in the Torah for priests

153

Coele-Syria

serving in the Temple. If this were the case, then the garments worn by these sectarians would not simply have been white but would have been woven of linen (Shamir and Sukenik 2011: 206, 216). Although no priestly garb has been recovered from antiquity, Josephus—who claims priestly lineage—offers vivid and intricate descriptions of the priests’ Temple vestments (Ant. 3.7). He supplies a variety of terms for some of the pieces and occasional comparisons to garments that would have been more familiar to his readers. Standard priestly garments prescribed in the Torah and described by Josephus include linen loincloths, tunics, long embroidered sashes, and swathed caps or turbans. Over this basic uniform the high priest would have added the robe with bells and pomegranates, the ephod, and the breastplate also prescribed by biblical law (Exod 28), along with a kind of triple-crown or mitre bearing a plate engraved with the name of God.

Bibliography O. Shamir and N. Sukenik, “Qumran Textiles and the Garments of Qumran’s Inhabitants,” DSD 18 (2011): 206–25. D. Shlezinger-Katsman, “Clothing,” OHDL (2010), 362–81. H. von Wees, “Trailing Tunics and Sheepskin Coats: Dress and Status in Early Greece,” The Clothed Body in the Ancient World (2005), 44–51. CYNTHIA M. BAKER

Related entries: Agriculture; Deuteronomy, Book of; Family; High Priests; Jewelry; Josephus, Writings of; Phylacteries and Mezuzot; Priesthood; Sexuality.

Coele-Syria The term “Coele-Syria” (Κοιλη Συρια, Koilē Syria [also “Celesyria,” “Celosyria,” and “Coelesyria”]) is a geopolitical expression used to designate various regions of the Eastern Mediterranean. The term may have developed from κοῖλος (koilos), meaning “hollow” or “concave” (LSJ 967), but may also have been formulated based upon the Aramaic ‫כלא ארם‬ (klʾ ʾrm) “all of Aram,” which was then appropriated by Greek-language speakers who substituted “Syria” for “Aram” (Grabbe 2004: 173; Mazar 1962: 119–20). The Greek name likely denotes a toponym characterizing the approximately 140-km-long fertile valley between the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon mountains—this would be the modern Beqa’a Valley, perhaps ‫( בקעת הלבנון‬bqʿt hlbnwn) in Joshua 11:17 and 12:7 and/or ‫( בקעת און‬bqʿt ʾwn) in Amos 1:5. On the other hand, the Semitic-language appellative may depict a wide-ranging geographical region that extended from Upper Syria to the border of Egypt. This etymological ambiguity reflects an ongoing inconclusiveness in determining the precise location of Coele-Syria throughout antiquity. Based upon the people groups and locations mentioned in Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities, Coele-Syria was, in one sense, a geographical region distinct from Idumea, Samaria, Ammon, Moab, and Assyria and adjacent to, but separate from, Phoenicia (Ant. 10.220; 11.25, 27, 61, 138, 174, 303). Correspondingly, the writer of 1 Esdras repeatedly utilizes the term “Coele-Syria” to

154

Coele-Syria

describe an area of southern Syria in close proximity to, but distinct from, Phoenicia (1 Esdr 2:17, 24, 27; 4:48 [distinguished from Lebanon]; 6:29; 7:1; 8:67; Smith 1992: 1076). Accordingly, “Coele-Syria” seemingly refers to the Greek-language name, depicting a hollow between the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon mountain ranges. Perhaps this description of “Coele-Syria” matches the region of Syria that Quintus Curtius Rufus reports was handed over to Andromachus by Parmenion (Curtius Rufus, Life of Alexander the Great 4.8.9). Nevertheless, a comparison between 1 Esdras 2:17 and its Aramaic parallel (Ezra 4:11) reveals that during the Persian period, “Coele-Syria” also may have designated an undetermined territory “beyond the river” ‫( עבר־נהרה‬ʿbr-nhrh, i.e. west of the Euphrates; Heb. ‫עבר הנהר‬, ʿbr hnhr [cf. Neh 2:7]; Akkadian cognate eber nāri [CAD, E, 8]). This potential understanding of Coele-Syria as the vast territory beyond the river might explain Josephus’ perplexing usage of the term in his description of the land of Uz son of Aram, in which he implies that Trachonitis and Damascus—both locations beyond the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon ranges—are located between Palestine and Coele-Syria (Ant. 1.145; cf. Gen 10:23). Josephus seemingly understood the meaning of “Coele-Syria” to include the land extending from the Euphrates to Egypt (Ant. 14.79). Ambiguity likewise exists in the sources with regard to the relationship of Phoenicia to “CoeleSyria.” Although in 1 Esdras 7:1 Coele-Syria and Phoenicia are under one governorate (Σισίννης ὁ ἔπαρχος Κοίλης Συρίας καὶ Φοινίκης, Sisinnēs ho eparchos Koilēs Surias kai Phoinikēs), 1 Esdras 8:67 reports multiple governors for these regions (τοῖς ἐπάρχοις Κοίλης Συρίας καὶ Φοινίκης, tois eparchois Koilēs Surias kai Phoinikēs). Additionally, in 1 Maccabees 10:69, Apollonius is appointed governor over Coele-Syria, whereas in 2 Maccabees 4:4, Apollonius is called governor of Coele-Syria and Phoenicia (as is Ptolemy in 2 Macc 8:8). Diodorus Siculus depicts the entirety of the Levant—ranging from Upper Syria (a distinct area) to the Nile, except for Phoenicia— through the phrase “Coele-Syria” (Diodorus, Bib. hist. 18.6.3; 43.1; 19.93.1). Thus, “CoeleSyria” assumed a broad meaning akin to the Semitic-language connotation of “beyond the river,” conveying the major Trans-Euphrates geographical areas north of Egypt. In antiquity, then, the toponym “Coele-Syria” depicted two affiliated regions: (1) the region between the Libanus and the Antilibanus, which was called “Coele-Syria” in a special sense, and (2) an indefinite region consisting of many areas to the south and west of the Euphrates as far as Egypt (Strabo, Geogr. 16.2.7, 16, 21–22). These two divisions coincide with the Greek and Aramaic (via Akkadian) etymologies, respectively (i.e. the area of “Hollow-Syria” in a specific sense and “all of Syria” in a general sense). The areas of Coele-Syria consisting of Palestine and southern Syria were subsequently occupied by the Ptolemies and Seleucids following the wars of the Diadochi. Palestine eventually came under Maccabean control, which ended when Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II quarreled and appealed to Rome for assistance. The phrase “Coele-Syria” appears in the writings of antiquity even after Pompey broadened Rome’s power into the Levant. After Herod gained the affection of the Syrians for squelching a band of robbers that terrorized Syria in 47 bce, Sextus Caesar, governor of Syria, appointed him general of the army of Coele-Syria and Samaria (Josephus, Ant. 14.158–184; J.W. 1.204–215). Herod was subsequently reappointed as governor of Coele-Syria by Cassius—a position in which he exercised authority in regions that transcended the special sense of “Coele-Syria” (i.e. Samaria and possibly Damascus and other areas in the Transjordan;

155

Coins

Smith 1992). This foreshadowed Herod’s ascension to becoming king of the Jews, the position he held until his death in 4 bce.

Bibliography L. L. Grabbe, “Coele-Syria,” in A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period, Vol. 2. LSTS 68 (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 173–76. B. Mazar, “The Aramaean Empire and its Relations with Israel,” BA 25 (1962): 98–120. R. W. Smith, “Coele-Syria,” ABD 1 (1992): 1075–76. DOMINICK S. HERNÁNDEZ

Related entries: Esdras, First Book of; Herod the Great; Ioudaios; Josephus, Writings of; Land, Concept of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; People of the Land (ʿAm ha-ʾAreṣ); Roman Governors; Romanization.

Coins Coins were common in the Second Temple period. They served economic, religious, and political needs and circulated communications and propaganda via images and slogans. Besides Jewish coins, municipal coins were struck in Dora, Maresha, and Nysa-Scythopolis before 70 ce. In archaeological excavations coins often help to provide a clearer picture of events. For example, a group of burned and melted bronze coins from the fourth year of the First Jewish War against Rome were discovered in Jerusalem excavations and confirm the massive conflagration of Jerusalem in 70 ce. Coins also provide proof that Bar Kokhba’s army never captured Jerusalem— of more than 50,000 coins found in Jerusalem excavations only two Bar Kokhba coins have been found (fewer than that have been found in excavations at European forts in Spain, England, and Eastern Europe, where they were carried by Roman soldiers as souvenirs). Perhaps most significant, however, is that coins provide unique public inscriptions from the Second Temple period, as well as a lexicon of iconography that is otherwise quite scarce during this time. Barter and metals were used as currency from the Bronze Age until late 7th century bce, when coinage was invented in Western Turkey. In the Persian period (5th–4th centuries bce), small silver coins were struck in Philistia, Samaria, and Judea; some carried the name “Yehud” (‫)יהד‬, the Persian name for the satrapy of Judea. During the Hellenistic period Alexander III, the Ptolemies, and the Seleucids struck coins of mostly silver and bronze at mints including Akko, Ascalon, Dora, Gaza, Joppa, and Jerusalem. Silver shekels and half-shekels of Tyre were struck between 126/5 bce and 66 ce, and circulated widely in the Southern Levant. Tyre shekels were used to pay annual tribute to the Jerusalem Temple (Exod 30:11–16; m. Ŝeqal. 2:4). The shekel of the Hebrew Bible (cf. Gen 23:16) refers to a mass (weight) of silver, not a coin (Figures 4.34 and 4.35). Under Hasmoneans and Herodians, only bronze coins were struck. Graven images were forbidden (e.g. Deut 5:8) and not used by Jewish rulers until the later Herodian kings who ruled outside of Judea and the Galilee. Symbols used by the Hasmoneans included cornucopias, lilies, palm branches, and pomegranates, adapted from Greek coinage. Early Herodian symbols often reflect Roman influence, but had ambivalent meanings to avoid offending the Jewish population.

156

Coins

Figure 4.34  Coin of Hyrcanus I with paleo-Hebrew inscription ‫יהוחנן הכהן הגדל וחבר היהודים‬.

Figure 4.35  Jewish War silver shekel dated to the first year of the war, 66/67 ce, with the inscriptions ‫ שקל ישראל‬and ‫ירושלים הקדושה‬.

The first coin struck at Jerusalem was likely the result of collaboration between Antiochus VII (138–129 bce) and John Hyrcanus I (134–104 bce; Figure 4.34). It carried Antiochus’ name in Greek, with images of a lily and anchor. Subsequent coins were struck by Hyrcanus I (‫יהוחנן‬, yhôḥnn), Aristobulus I (‫יהודה‬, yhûdh; 104 bce), Alexander Jannaeus (‫יהונתן‬, ‫ינתן‬, y(hô) ntn; 104–76 bce), successors to Jannaeus, and Antigonus (‫מתתיה‬, mttyh; 40–37 bce). Most of these bear a formulaic paleo-Hebrew legend, “the High Priest and the Council of the Jews,” (‫ … הכהן הגדל וחבר היהודים‬hkhn hgdl wḥbr hyhûdym) and a pomegranate between cornucopias. Jannaeus first used the title “king” on coins in Judea, although Aristobulus I, who ruled for less than a year, was the first Jewish ruler to claim the title (Josephus, J.W. 1.70). Jannaeus was succeeded by his widow, Salome Alexandra (76–67 bce), and their sons Aristobulus II (67–63 bce) and John Hyrcanus II (67 and 63–40 bce), who did not issue coins in their own names. However, large numbers of small, crude bronze coins imitating coins of Jannaeus were struck during this period. Antigonus began his rule just as Herod I was designated king in Rome in 40 bce. Antigonus’ notable coin showed the seven-branched candelabra and the showbread table. Herod I and his Roman allies defeated Antigonus, and Herod’s reign “on the ground” began in 37 bce. Herod I issued many bronze coins in various denominations, all inscribed “of King Herod” in Greek. 157

Columbaria

Herod I’s sons Archelaus (4 bce–6 ce, Judea, Samaria and Idumea), Antipas (4 bce–39 ce, Perea and Galilee), and Philip (4 bce–34 ce, Gaulanitis, Trachonitis, Batanea, and Paneas) each inherited portions of his kingdom and struck bronze coins. Archelaus was hated (Luke 19:14) and the Jews petitioned Augustus, who banished him to Gaul in 6 ce. Thereafter, Roman Judea was governed by prefects or procurators until 66 ce, except when Agrippa I (41–44 ce) ruled there; these rulers struck bronze coins with Greek inscriptions, and without graven images. Most coins of Agrippa I and II resemble Roman provincial coins and depict the emperor or a family member on one side. Agrippa II’s (ca. 50–95 ce) coins feature Flavian portraits and often copy Roman pagan motifs. During the Jewish War (66–70 ce) Jews struck their first silver coins since the Persian Period (see Figure 4.35). These shekels and half-shekels proclaimed “Jerusalem the Holy” (‫ירושלים הקדושה‬, yrûšlym hqdšh) and “Shekel of Israel” (‫שקל ישראל‬, šql yśrʾl) in paleo-Hebrew. They carry dates of the five years of the war. Bronze prutot were struck during years one through three. During the fourth year, emergency bronze issues for half-, quarter-, and eighth-shekels were struck in Jerusalem. While the bronze coins struck in years two and three carried the inscription “for the freedom of Zion” (‫לחרת ציון‬, lḥrt ṣyôn), during the fourth year it was replaced by “for the redemption of Zion” (‫לגאלת ציון‬, lgʾlt ṣyôn), a slogan reflecting more spirituality than practicality. After the Jewish defeat, the Romans struck coins at mints in Rome, Spain, Antioch, Caesarea Maritima and elsewhere, proclaiming the capture of Judea. From 132 to 135 ce silver and bronze coins were struck under Bar Kokhba’s administration, with some depicting an idealized image of the Jerusalem Temple.

Bibliography D. Hendin, Guide to Biblical Coins, 5th ed. (Nyack: Amphora Books, 2010). Y. Meshorer, A Treasury of Jewish Coins (Jerusalem/Nyack: Yad Ben Zvi/Amphora Books, 2001). DAVID HENDIN

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Bar Kokhba Letters; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herod the Great; Inscriptions; Menorah; Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls; Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Governors; Romanization; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Temple Tax; Tribute and Taxes.

Columbaria A columbarium is an installation made of rows of square or triangular niches (20 × 20 × 20 cm) arranged in parallel lines cut in the walls of artificial caves or constructions. They have been found throughout the southern part of the land of Israel, mainly in Judea, with fewer than 15 in the northern part of Israel (cf. Zissu 1995). Within a radius of 2–3 km around Jerusalem more than 40 columbaria have been documented: 36 installed in caves hewn for that purpose, and six others built inside structures. These installations served only as dovecotes (and not for the burial of ashes): an industry in all respects, whose products (for meat, fertilizer, and cultic uses) were marketed and which demanded management, monitoring, and care. During the Hasmonean and Herodian periods the number of columbaria in Jerusalem and its environs, including agricultural

158

Columbaria

Figure 4.36  Early Hellenistic period Columbarium at Subterranean Complex 61 Maresha.

areas, is estimated at about 60 or more, all found outside the city walls of the Second Temple period (Kloner 2003a: 37*–39*). All of the installations found in the vicinity of the City of David, for example, were established outside the city walls, but less than 100 m to the east. It is now clear that they are but a small part of the total number of columbaria built in the area: there was probably a ban on raising birds within the city itself for reasons of ritual purity, part of the halakic regulations pertaining solely to Jerusalem (Kloner 2000; cf. e.g. m. B. Bat. 2:5). At least two-thirds of the columbaria in Jerusalem can be dated to the abovementioned periods, which corresponds to findings in other parts of the land of Israel. At Maresha 85 columbaria were found, all hewn in the rock below the residences (Figure 4.36). Each contained from several hundred to 3,600 niches. It is estimated that the residents of this Idumean city bred tens of thousands of paired doves each year. The Mareshan columbaria date to the 3rd to early 2nd century bce, and most of them ceased to serve as dovecotes by the second quarter of the 2nd century bce (Kloner 2000; see Map 6: Maccabean Revolt [167–160 bce]). Perhaps the export of doves from Maresha to Jerusalem suffered from the deliberate Hasmonean policy limiting importation of birds from Idumaea that were intended as sacrificial offerings at the Jerusalem Temple (Stern, Alpert and Kloner 2016). This may have been the impetus for the beginning of dove-breeding around Jerusalem (Kloner 2003b).

Bibliography A. Kloner, “Columbaria in Jerusalem,” in Jerusalem and Eretz-Israel, ed. J. Schwartz, Z. Amar, and I. Ziffer (Tel Aviv: Eretz Israel Museum and The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies Bar-Ilan University, 2000), 61*–66*. A. Kloner, Survey of Jerusalem: The Northwestern Sector Introduction and Indices (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2003a). A. Kloner, “Subterranean Complex 21,” in Maresha Excavations Final Report I: Subterranean Complexes 21, 44, 70, ed. A. Kloner (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2003b), 41–49.

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I. Stern, B. Alpert, and A. Kloner, “Subterranean Complex 147 at Maresha: The Construction of the Columbarium,” Atiqot 87 (2016): 37–48. B. Zissu, “Two Herodian Dovecotes: Horvat Abu Haf and Horvat 'Aleq,” in The Roman and Byzantine Near East, ed. J. H. Humphrey, JRASup 14 (Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1995), 56–69. AMOS KLONER

Related entries: Agriculture; Purification and Purity; Sacrifices and Offerings; Worship.

Columella Lucius Junius Moderatus Columella was the moralizing author of De re rustica (“Concerning rural matters”), the most extensive Latin text on agriculture surviving from antiquity. He was born in Spain and was active in Italy during the mid-1st century ce; otherwise, little is known of his life. His writings are of great value for the light they shed on farm and slave management, viticulture, animal husbandry, and other earthy matters. While Columella wrote mainly in prose, his citation of and dialogue with classical poetry (esp. Virgil’s Georgica) gives De re rustica literary importance beyond that of a mere technical manual (Diederich 2007). Columella, discussing the cultivation of sesame, mentions a visit to Syria (Rust. 2.10.18). A dedicatory inscription (ILS 2923) suggests that he was a military officer (military tribune) attached to a legion that is known to have served in the east. He specifically mentions Jews or Judea twice (Stern 1974: 426–28). First, he remarks on the appearance of an unusually tall Jew (“taller than the tallest German”; Rust. 3.8.2) at a circus procession; apparently this was in Rome, where the emperors showcased their domination of the world with processions of exotic people and animals (Edwards and Woolf 2006). Secondly, he cites in passing the fact that Judea and Arabia were renowned for their precious scent-bearing plants (Rust. 3.8.4), a reminder of gentile interest in Judea’s notable flora.

Bibliography S. Diederich, Römische Agrarhandbücher zwischen Fachwissenschaft, Literatur und Ideologie (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). CHRISTOPHER J. FUHRMANN

Related entries: Agriculture; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Inscriptions; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Romanization.

Contracts from the Judean Desert The legal contracts from the Judean Desert include material from caves near Samaria, caves in wadis running into the Dead Sea from the west (including the so-called “Cave of Letters” which contained the archives of Babatha), and scattered items from various other sources (such as Wadi Murabbaʿat). These legal texts are composed in Hebrew, Greek, and various forms of Aramaic (Jewish and Nabatean) and roughly date from the 1st and early 2nd centuries ce. Various types of legal transaction are represented, including the most basic, the sale document. Others include mortgage-type documents, transfers of ownership, and other day-to-

160

Contracts from the Judean Desert

day transactions, such as leases and receipts. Aramaic texts are very common, since everyday transactions were normally conducted in Aramaic—at least until Roman rule became pervasive, at which time Greek became more prominent (though the fall of Jerusalem, the Roman annexation of Nabatea in 105–106 ce, and the Second Jewish Revolt of 132–135 ce have diminished the number of surviving archival records). The Aramaic documents, whether drawn up by Jews or Nabateans, share a common formulary, being distinguished only by the form of Aramaic used and, in the case of the Nabatean texts, by the dating of the document to the reign of a Nabatean king. This legal tradition, represented also in the Samaria papyri (Wadi ed-Daliyeh) of the 4th century bce, is traceable to the same sort of formulaic language which is found in the Elephantine papyri of the late 5th century bce. It has long been well established that this tradition of law is closely related to the legal traditions of ancient Mesopotamia, with varying levels of influence from Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian law (note the fundamental works of Yaron 1961 and Muffs 1969). Attempts have been made to trace elements of later Jewish legal tradition in these various materials. Studies have shown that later Jewish legal formularies do in fact share certain elements with this ancient (essentially international and non-Jewish) tradition of contract law. On the other hand, attempts to find elements of law in these early materials which are specifically Jewish and known from mishnaic and talmudic traditions have been less successful (Oudshoorn 2007). Arguably such attempts are a priori misguided, since the later traditions of Jewish law (and rabbinic Judaism) did not necessarily exist in the 1st and 2nd centuries ce. The Babatha archive does, however, contain a marriage contract (ketubba), Babatha’s own ketubba, written in Aramaic “according to the law of Moses and the Judeans” (Yadin, Greenfield, Yardeni, and Levine 2002: 126–41, P. Yadin 10). Other marriage documents are found among the Greek texts from Murabbaʿāt (Benoit, Milik, and de Vaux 1961: 243–56, Mur 115, 116; see also Cotton and Yardeni 1997: 250–74, XḤev/Se 69; Lewis 1989: 76–82, P. Yadin 18 and 37; see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]). Apart from formularies, the documents also preserve other standard features. Many texts are “double documents”: i.e. the text of the transaction was in principle written twice in upper and lower copies (Koffmann 1968). A well-preserved example is provided by P. Yadin 7 (=5/6Ḥev 7), a Jewish Aramaic deed of gift from the Babatha archive dated 120 ce (Yadin, Greenfield, Yardeni, and Levine 2002: 73–108 (Figure 4.37). The upper copy of a double document was rolled up and sealed (with signatures of witnesses), while the lower text was left unsewn and accessible for reference. This way of preparing documents, like so much else in this tradition, goes back to the practice, evident in cuneiform tablets, of placing the main text of a transaction inside a clay “envelope” which carried a second copy of the text or an abbreviated version of it. In case of dispute the unchallengeable inner text could be accessed by breaking the seal. This habit of making double documents went into decline when the Romans established city archives in which a copy of any transaction could be kept for ultimate reference. One of the consequences of this development was that the writing of the upper text on the scroll became more an issue of legal formality than anything else, and thus the upper texts became shorter and less informative than were the lower texts (as is the case in P. Yadin 7). There appear to have been conventional arrangements for witnessing such transactions, with five witnesses normally adding their names. Since not all principals and not all witnesses to a transaction would have been literate or fully literate, one often finds reference to substitute 161

Contracts from the Judean Desert

Figure 4.37  Cave of Letters P. Yadin 7 (= 5/6Ḥev 7) Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). 162

Conversion and Proselytism

signatories or, alternatively, the scrawling characters of the semi-literate. The transaction itself did not depend on literacy: it was essentially oral (as also in Roman law).

Bibliography E. Koffmann, Die Doppelurkunden aus der Wüste Juda, STDJ 5 (Leiden: Brill 1968). Y. Muffs, Studies in the Aramaic Legal Papyri from Elephantine, Studia et Documenta ad Iura Orientis Antiqui Pertinentia 8 (Leiden: Brill 1969; repr. 2003). J. G. Oudshoorn, The Relationship between Roman and Local Law in the Babatha and Salome Komaise Archives, STDJ 69 (Leiden: Brill, 2007). JOHN F. HEALEY

Related entries: Agriculture; Archives and Libraries; Literacy and Reading; Marriage and Divorce; Multilingualism; Papyri; Scripts and Scribal Practice; Seals and Seal Impressions.

Conversion and Proselytism In conversion, gentiles no longer merely sympathize with Jewish customs and beliefs; instead, they identify themselves with the Jewish people and are incorporated into the community. Discussions of conversion and proselytism in antiquity, then, entail what modern discourse would consider to be both ethnic and religious aspects. The evidence for someone abandoning one religion in favor of another in Second Temple writings is debated. For instance, Esther 8:17 portrays numerous gentiles judaizing (the Septuagint adds that they undergo circumcision). While some see in this verse a depiction of conversion, the narrator claims that this action was taken only out of fear of the Jews. For another possible example of conversion in the Hebrew Bible, someone might point to Ruth, who expresses her desire to become part of Naomi’s people and to worship her God; yet the Book of Ruth continues to call her a Moabite throughout. Some argue that the Greek translation provides early evidence of the phenomenon of conversion through its selective use of προσήλυτος (prosēlutos) to translate the Hebrew word ‫( גר‬ger, “resident alien”). This argument has recently been debunked, based as it is upon an inadequate understanding of translation technique in the Septuagint. Perhaps the earliest portrayal of a gentile conversion to Judaism is found in the Book of Judith, which portrays Achior the Ammonite undergoing circumcision and joining the house of Israel (14:10). That Achior converted is all the more surprising since Deuteronomy explicitly forbids Ammonites from joining Israel (Deut 23:3). The actions of the Hasmoneans, in incorporating Idumeans and Itureans into the Jewish community via circumcision, demonstrate that something akin to conversion occurred in the 2nd century bce. Further, Izates, a 1st-century ce king of Adiabene, also converted to Judaism, undergoing circumcision on the advice of Eleazar (Josephus, Ant. 20.17–47). Such sparse evidence for conversion in early Judaism needs to be balanced against the evidence of other Jewish literature, such as Ezra-Nehemiah, Jubilees, and 4QMMT, all of which reject the belief that gentiles can become Jews through circumcision and law observance. For such authors, Jewishness is only ever genealogical and not an identity that one can acquire apart from birth. Second Temple Judaism, then, did not universally agree that gentile conversion to Judaism was either possible or that it was good. Relatedly, Martin Goodman and Scot McKnight have argued that, even though some Jews were open to gentile conversion to Judaism, most did not actively encourage gentiles to do so (Goodman 1994; McKnight 1991). In this regard, Judaism 163

Coptic

was not a proselytizing religion, although some Jews may have sporadically and unsystematically encouraged gentiles to become Jews. The systematic and prolonged nature of the missionizing of gentiles, which took place in the early Christ movement, appears, then, to be a novel development. Early Jewish Christ-believers preached that gentiles needed to abandon their gods and worship the God of Israel (e.g. 1 Thess 1:9; Gal 4:8–9). Within this shared position, though, disagreement existed over whether gentiles needed to or even could adopt the Jewish law and take up Jewish identity. Evidence for such a disagreement is preserved not only in Paul’s letters but also in Acts, which portrays Christbelieving Pharisees arguing that gentiles need to adopt the Mosaic law, while the Jerusalem leadership and Paul argue that gentiles should not do so.

Bibliography Z. A. Crook, Reconceptualising Conversion: Patronage, Loyalty, and Conversion in the Religions of the Ancient Mediterranean, BZNW 130 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004). L. H. Feldman, “Was Judaism a Missionary Religion in Ancient Times?” in Jewish Assimilation, Acculturation and Accommodation: Past Traditions, Current Issues and Future Prospects, ed. M. Mor (Lanham: University Press of America, 1992), 24–37. M. Thiessen, “Revisiting the prosēlutos in ‘the LXX’,” JBL 132 (2013): 333–50. MATTHEW THIESSEN

Related entries: Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Idumea; Jubilees, Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Pauline Letters.

Coptic “Coptic” designates the last stage in the development of the ancient Egyptian language. Unlike the previous stages, which used locally developed alphabets, Coptic is expressed in Greek characters, adding seven indigenous signs for the sounds unknown in Greek. The Coptic writing system probably began in the 3rd century ce, although the circumstances in which it appeared remain unknown. The surviving manuscripts attest a diversity of Coptic dialects and subdialects. The most important literary vehicle in the first Christian millennium was the Sahidic dialect, which was originally used in Upper Egypt. It later became a sort of supra-regional idiom, as attested by numerous Sahidic manuscripts discovered in Middle Egypt. The Bohairic, which was the dialect of Lower Egypt, and the Fayyumic, a Middle Egyptian dialect, also played significant roles in the transmission of literary works. Bohairic remains the liturgical language of the Coptic Church to the present. The other dialects were probably not used in literary manuscripts after the 6th century ce and slowly disappeared. A plethora of Second Temple texts were transmitted in Coptic, though most survive only in fragments. The incomplete state in which the majority of Coptic manuscripts exists makes it difficult to determine whether a manuscript fragment belonged to a certain literary work or, rather, to a later text which rewrites or incorporates portions of it. For example, large selections from the Cave of Treasures, an apocryphon on Adam and Eve, are embedded in a Sahidic homily on Mary Magdalene attributed to Cyril of Jerusalem (Coquin 1990). The numerous misattributions of Coptic manuscript fragments complicate the task of proposing identifications. Among Second Temple texts that appear in some biblical canons, Sahidic manuscripts contain Tobit, Judith, 4 Maccabees, and 4 Ezra (2 Esdras 3–14). The latter is preserved in fragments of 164

Coptic

three codices, the earliest of which probably dates to the 6th–7th century and indicates that the Sahidic translation must be quite early (Suciu 2015; P. Berol. 9096) (Figure 4.38). A bilingual Sahidic-Greek papyrus fragment in the National Library Vienna (K 8706) preserves a portion of the Prayer of Manasseh. This text is also widely attested in later Bohairic manuscripts, usually in Psalters, where it features together with the other biblical Odes. Extracts corresponding to Jubilees 8:28–30, 7:14–16 exist in a Sahidic papyrus sheet kept in the Beinecke Library as P.CtYBR inv. 4995 (Crislip 2003). The Apocalypse of Moses, which narrates the life of Adam and Eve, is extant in a Sahidic parchment fragment in the John Rylands Library in Manchester (Crawford Copt. 84), as well as in several Fayyumic papyrus fragments housed in the Papyrussammlung of the Egyptian Museum in Berlin (P. Berol. 3212; cf. Dochhorn 2005). Some Sahidic parchment fragments discovered at Qasr Ibrim in Nubia have been identified as containing passages from 2 Enoch, previously

Figure 4.38  P.Berol.9096 Sahidic fragment containing text from Fourth Ezra 13:30–33, 40–46. 165

Coptic

known only in Old Church Slavonic (Hagen 2012). Other Enochic literature is preserved, both in a Greek manuscript of 1 Enoch 1–32 (Codex Panopolitanus) discovered near Akhmim in Upper Egypt, as well as in unidentified texts that draw on this apocalypse and which appear to be local Coptic adaptations of the text (Pearson 2000, 2002). Fragments of the Ascension of Isaiah are attested in the Subakhmimic dialect of Coptic (Lefort 1939; Lacau 1946), some of which are kept in the Dutch National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden (F 1949/4.1), while others are in the collection of the French Institute for Oriental Archeology in Cairo (call number 379). Notably, neither the Leiden nor the Cairo fragments for the Ascension of Isaiah belong to codices. Instead, they are rotuli made of reused Greek documentary texts. This is relatively rare for Christian literary manuscripts, and whether all the fragments belong to the same rotulus remains uncertain. Lefort published a Sahidic papyrus fragment of the same text, once in the possession of the Catholic University in Louvain (Lefort 1940: 72–78). Unfortunately, the fragment disappeared in a fire which devastated the library of the Louvain university during the WWII bombings. The Apocalypse of Zephaniah, which contains prophet Zephaniah’s vision of the post-mortem judgment of souls, is known only in Coptic (Sahidic and Akhmimic) manuscripts. The single Sahidic fragment, once kept in the library of the Catholic University in Louvain, had the same unfortunate fate as that of the Ascension of Isaiah, perishing in the same fire (Lefort 1940: 79–80). The Akhmimic version survives in a dismembered papyrus codex allegedly discovered near Akhmim in Upper Egypt, whose debris are kept today in the National Library in Paris and in the Berlin Papyrussammlung (Steindorff 1899). The same codex also features the Akhmimic version of the Apocalypse of Elijah. A passage from the same text in Sahidic appears in the British Library manuscript Or. 7594, an early papyrus codex also containing the Sahidic versions of Deuteronomy, Jonah, and Acts (Budge 1912). Finally, yet another Sahidic papyrus fragment is preserved in the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin (Pietersma, Comstock, and Attridge 1981). A badly damaged papyrus codex in Köln features portions of the Testament of Adam (virtually lost with the exception of the title), the Testament of Abraham, and the Testament of Job (Schenke 2009). A Bohairic version of the Testament of Abraham, seemingly based on a different Sahidic translation than the one in the Köln manuscript, appears in a Vatican manuscript together with the Testament of Isaac and the Testament of Jacob (Guidi 1900). An introduction, which is a later addition, attributes the three texts to Athanasius of Alexandria, who allegedly found them in the archive of the patriarchate of Alexandria. Under this form, the testaments of the three patriarchs had been translated into Arabic, and from this language into Ethiopic (Heide 2000).

Bibliography E. A. W. Budge, Coptic Biblical Texts in the Dialect of Upper Egypt (London: British Museum, 1912). R.-G. Coquin, “Un encomion copte sur Marie-Madeleine attribué à Cyrille de Jérusalem,” Bulletin de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale 90 (1990): 169–212. A. Crislip, “The Book of Jubilees in Coptic: An Early Christian Florilegium on the Family of Noah,” Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 40 (2003): 27–44. I. Guidi, “Il testo copto del Testamento di Abramo,” “Il Testamento di Isacco e il Testamento di Giacobbe,” Rendiconti della Reale Accademia dei Lincei ser. 5.9 (1900): 157–80, 223–64. M. Heide, Die Testamente Isaaks und Jakobs. Edition und Übersetzung der arabischen und äthiopischen Versionen, Aethiopistische Forschungen 56 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2000). P. Lacau, “Fragments de l’Ascension d’Isaïe en copte,” Le Muséon 59 (1946): 453–67. L.-T. Lefort, “Fragments d’apocryphes en copte akhmîmique,” Le Muséon 52 (1939): 1–10.

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Cosmology

L.-T. Lefort, Les manuscrits coptes de l’Université de Louvain 1: Textes littéraires (Louvain: Bibliothèque de l’Université, 1940). B. A. Pearson, “Enoch in Egypt,” in For a Later Generation: The Transformation of Tradition in Israel, Early Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. R. A. Argall, B. Bow, R. A. Werline, and G. W. E. Nickelsburg (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 2000), 216–31. B. A. Pearson, “The Munier Enoch Fragments Revisited,” in For the Children, Perfect Instruction: Studies in Honor of Hans-Martin Schenke on the Occasion of the Berliner Arbeitskreis für koptisch-gnostische Schriften’s Thirtieth Year, ed. H.-G. Bethge, K. King, and I. Schletterer; Nag Hammadi & Manichaean Studies, 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 375–83. A. Pietersma, S. T. Comstock, and H. W. Attridge, The Apocalypse of Elijah: Based on P. Chester Beatty 2018, Pseudepigrapha Series 9 (Chico: Scholars Press, 1981). G. Schenke, Der koptische Kölner Papyruskodex 3221 vol. 1: Das Testament des Iob, Papyrologica Coloniensia 33 (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2009). G. Steindorff, Die Apokalypse des Elias, eine unbekannte Apokalypse und Bruchstücke der SophoniasApokalypse (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1899). A. Suciu, “On a Bilingual Copto-Arabic Manuscript of 4 Ezra and the Reception of this Pseudepigraphon in Coptic Literature,” JSP 25.1 (2015): 3–22. ALIN SUCIU

Related entries: Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jubilees, Book of; Judith, Book of; Maccabees, Fourth Book of; Multilingualism; Papyri; Testaments; Tobit, Book of.

Cosmology “Cosmology” in Second Temple literature primarily entails the physical structure of the universe. In general this pertains to the created order and in particular is concerned with the shape of earth and heaven. Earth.  Although some Greeks after the 4th century bce thought that the earth was a sphere, not many Jews encountered the idea. Philo was an exception: in On Planting 3 he mentions the earth’s shape, claiming that the elements of earth and water are placed at the center of the universe like roots of a tree, while air and fire are above them like a trunk and leaves. Though difficult to infer Philo’s view from this analogy alone, his adherence elsewhere to a PlatonicAristotelian cosmology of concentric celestial spheres implies that for him the earth is spherical (Runia 1986). Most Second Temple writings regard the world as flat, as suggested by frequent mention of the “edges of the earth.” Sometimes the phrase may be merely idiomatic (e.g. 1 En. 21–25, 28–36), though descriptions of these edges suggest that they are understood literally. Enoch lives at the edges of the earth after his departure from humanity (cf. Book of Giants at 4Q530 7 iii; 1 En. 106–107; 1QapGen ii 23) (Figure 4.39). Some texts assume that the ends of the firmament stand on the boundaries of the earth (1 En. 33–36, 72–76; 3 Bar. 2:1; T. Ab. 11:1 [long recension]; Josephus, Ant. 1.30). A river encircles the earth (T. Ab. 8:3 [short recension]; Josephus, J.W. 2.8.155; Ant. 1.31; 1.143; 3.185), though sometimes the earth is simply described as surrounded by water (Jub. 8; cf. 1QapGen xvi–xvii). In one instance, Enoch sees the void lying beyond the place where heaven and earth end (1 En. 18:9–19:2; 21; Coblentz Bautch 2003: 265–74). The exact shape of the flat earth is nowhere explicitly described. However, mention of the heavenly gates standing at the four edges of the earth (1 En. 33–36; 76) suggests a square-like symmetry. The entire universe is described in terms derived from buildings and square tents. 167

Cosmology

Figure 4.39  The universe as a tent according to the Book of Watchers and the Astronomical Book in 1 Enoch.

Some texts indicate the earth has a cornerstone (Job 38:6; 1 En. 18:2). Finally, in 1 Enoch 18:6–9 and 24:2, seven mountains are arranged in 90 degrees on the northwestern corner of the earth. Perhaps a similar geography is assumed by Revelation 7:1 and 20:8, which mention “the four corners of the earth.” On the other hand, many scholars interpret the Hebrew term ‫( חוג‬ḥwg, “dome”) in conjunction with several components of the universe (“dome of the earth,” Isa 40:22; “dome of heaven,” Job 22:14; Sir 24:5; “dome over the surface of the deep,” Prov 8:27; “dome of the seas,” 1QM × 13) as describing the earth’s circular shape. This interpretation is as early as the Septuagint, which translates the word ‫ חוג‬as γῦρος (guros, “circle”) everywhere (except in Proverbs, where the Greek version is completely different). Since the division of Noah’s sons in Jubilees 8–9 and the Genesis Apocryphon (1QapGen) xvi–xvii is derived from the Ionian Mapa Mundi (Alexander 1982; Eshel 2007; Machiela 2009: 105–30), both compositions also may assume that the earth is round. It is reasonable to assume that texts that mention the ocean encircling the earth also regard the earth has having the shape of a disc. These notions of a flat earth were common in ancient Near Eastern cultures. Heaven.  Heaven comprises the upper level(s) of the universe. Beginning with Genesis 1, the concept of only one heaven is widespread in the Hebrew Bible (Stadelmann 1970; Houtman 1993: 5–20). However, since the idea of multiple heavens existed in Mesopotamia, some scholars think the phrase “heavens of heavens” (‫שמי השמים‬, šmy hšmym; cf. Deut 10:14; 1 Kgs 8:27; 2 Chr 2:5; 6:18; Neh 9:6; Ps 148:4) in the Hebrew Bible implies another contradicting cosmology of

168

Cosmology

multiple heavens. Others explain the phrase as a mere literary hyperbole (e.g. Houtman 1993). The phrase ‫ שמי השמים‬also occurs in Hebrew Ben Sira 16:18 (Geniza fragment A). A similar expression, ‫רום רומים‬, rwm rwmym (“height of heights”), appears in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q403 1 i 41; 4Q405 6.2), as well as its opposite ‫מרומי רום‬, mrwmy rwm (literally “high heights”; 4Q403 1 i 34; 4Q400 1 i 20; 1 ii 2, 4; 2.4; 4Q405 4–5.2; cf. also 4Q511 41.1; Mizrahi 2009). The Greek to 3 Maccabees 2:15 and Daniel 3:35 uses the phrase “heaven of heaven” (οὐρανὸς τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, ouranos tou ouranou). It seems that the Testament of Abraham and the authors of 1 Enoch assume only one firmament. An exception might be 1 Enoch 71, if it attributes two levels to heaven in the expression that translates the Hebrew or Aramaic “heavens of heavens” (Eth. samāya samāyāt); this chapter, however, is sometimes considered a later addition. The Dead Sea manuscripts 4Q287 2a.6, 4Q293 1.4, 4Q405 2 i 6–7, 4Q418 69 ii 15, 11Q17 viii 2 and x 8 mention firmaments ([‫רקיעי[ם‬, rqyʿy[m]) in the plural. The Septuagint usually translates the Hebrew ‫( שמים‬šmym) in the singular οὐρανός (ouranos), but sometimes also in οὐρανοί (ouranoi), which may be a “translational plural” or a true interpretation of multiple heavens. In the New Testament, the plural οὐρανοί occurs once in Revelation 12:12, exclusively in Ephesians, and 55 times in the Gospel of Matthew, but could be a literal translation of the Hebrew and Aramaic forms. An explicit description of the various firmaments and what they contain is characteristic of apocalyptic literature. Thus, three firmaments are found in Testament of Levi 1–3 (but there are seven in the later recension); Baruch travels through five firmaments in 3 Baruch 2–12; Enoch ascends either to ten firmaments in the long recension (J) of 2 Enoch 2–20 or to seven firmaments in the short recension (A); seven firmaments are also mentioned in Pseudo-Philo (LAB 33:3; 35:2; and 37:5); and multiple firmaments occur in Assumption of Moses 12:9 (Himmelfarb 1993; Yarbro Collins 1995). In addition, Paul says that he arrived in Paradise in the third firmament (2 Cor 12:2). Philo (Cher. 21–23; perhaps Her. 221–225) refers to eight celestial spheres, one for the fixed stars and seven for the planets. If not related to the ancient Near Eastern conceptions, the multiple heavens probably reflect Greek influence. Not many sources describe the shape of heaven. First Enoch applies the image of a stone building or tent to describe the universe. In this building, heaven is the walls and ceiling of the universe or a tent sheet spread by four winds, which are the pillars of heaven (1 En. 18:3; Ratzon 2012). This imagery is already found in the Hebrew Bible (2 Sam 22:8; Isa 40:22; 42:24; 45:12; 51:13; Jer 10:12; 51:15; Zech 12:1; Ps 104:2; Job 38:4–6; Prov 8:29). In Testament of Abraham 8:3, 3 Baruch 2:1, and Josephus’ Ant. 1.30–31, the edges of heaven stand at the ends of the round earth, beyond the ocean, probably assuming a heavenly dome or a celestial hemisphere (Kulik 2010: 36, 55–56). Philo refers instead to celestial spheres (Somn. 1.21–22; Her. 227–229; QE 2.73–85; Cher. 21–25), a view that may be shared by 1 Esdras 4:34’s reference to the sun’s encircling of heaven. Wright (2000: 139–84) has demonstrated that two cosmologies resulted from the complicated redaction of 2 Enoch: chapters 1–21, inspired by the ancient Near East cosmologies, present multi-layered heavens, stacked one on top of the other above the earth, while chapters 22–73 hold to a combination of Greek (not necessarily Ptolemaic) and Babylonian traditions (Geller 2012) involving individual concentric spheres for each planet. Above the firmament(s) lies a heavenly realm, in which God sits enthroned, encircled by angels and divine creatures (cf. Dan 7:9–14; 1 En. 14:8–25; 40; 47; 71; 2 En. 18–22; 3 Bar. 11–16; T. Levi 1:12–24; 4Q405 13–23). In addition, storehouses of meteorological and astronomical 169

Court Tales

phenomena are assigned to heaven (Job 38:22; 1 En. 41:3–8; 43–44; 59; 60:11–22; 2 En. 5–6; 11–16; 2 Bar. 10:11–12; 3 Bar. 6–9; 4Q392 1; 4QHa [4Q427] ix 9–13), as in earlier books from the Hebrew Bible. Second Temple sources also locate paradise, the abode of the dead, and even hell in heaven (1 En. 39; 41:2; 60:8–23; 2 Bar. 4:7, 51:7–16; 3 Bar. 2–5; Apoc. Ab. [A] 11:1, 10; LAE 25:3 [Lat.] and 29:6; 37:5; 40:1 [Gk.]; 2 Cor 12:2–3; 2 En. [A] 7–10). Openings in the firmament serve as passages from heaven to earth for astronomical and meteorological phenomena and other divine heavenly creatures (Ben Dov 2008: 184–89; Ratzon 2014, 2015). They are not always described in detail, and sometimes descriptions of them seem to conflict (4 Bar. 2–11; 4 Ezra 3:18–19; 1 En. 9:10; 33–36; 72–76; 2 En. 6; T. Levi 5:1; Jub. 27:25; 4Q201 1 iv 10; 4Q202 1 iii 10; 4Q204 1 xiii 23; 4Q253 2; 4Q503; 4Q405 23 i; Genesis Apocryphon [1Q20] vi 25).

Bibliography P. Alexander, “Notes on the ‘Imago Mundi’ of the Book of Jubilees,” JJS 38 (1982): 197–213. J. Ben Dov, Head of All Years, STDJ 78 (Leiden: Brill, 2008). E. Eshel, “The Imago Mundi of the Genesis Apocryphon,” in Heavenly Tablets: Interpretation, Identity and Tradition in Ancient Judaism: Betsy Halpern-Amaru Festschrift, ed. L. LiDonnici and A. Lieber, JSJSup 119 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 111–31. C. Houtman, Der Himmel in Alten Testament: Israels Weltbild und Weltanschauung (Leiden: Brill, 1993). N. Mizrahi, “The Language of the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice Compared to Hekhalot Literature,” Meghillot 7 (2009): 263–98 (Hebrew). E. Ratzon, “The Conception of the Universe in the Book of Enoch” (PhD diss., Tel Aviv University, 2012). E. Ratzon, “The Gates Cosmology of the Astronomical Book of Enoch,” DSD 22 (2015): 93–111. L. I. J. Stadelmann, The Hebrew Conception of the World (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1970). J. E. Wright, The Early History of Heaven (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). A. Yarbro Collins, “The Seven Heavens in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses,” in Death, Ecstasy, and Other Worldly Journeys, ed. J. J. Collins and M. A. Fishbane (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), 59–93. ESHBAL RATZON

Related entries: Creation; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Genesis, Book of; Geography, Otherwordly; Revelation, Book of.

Court Tales Israel’s experience of exile and diaspora after 587 bce indelibly etched itself not only into the collective memory of the people but also into its literary imagination. The most prominent sign of this are those texts that relate the experience of Judeans in the courts of Neo-Babylonian and Persian kings. As argued by Wills (1990), they take the broad form of a legend about a revered figure set in the royal court, where the wisdom of the protagonist is a principal feature. The texts of this type in the Hebrew Bible, composed during the Second Temple period, are the various tales in Daniel 1–6 and the Book of Esther, while those outside the Hebrew Bible, likewise from the Second Temple period, include the two stories in Bel and the Dragon, Susanna (set in exile in Bablyon although there the court is judicial rather than royal), 1 Esdras 3–4, the Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242), and “4Q Judeans at the Persian Court” (4Q550a-e). The Book of Tobit does not contain a court setting per se but has some relation to court tales as well. Moreover, the book

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of Judith, although set in Israel, has its heroine achieve victory in the mobile court of Holofernes, a senior courtier of Nebuchadnezzar. Judeans were, however, not alone in being interested in court tales. All of these works represent a wider and earlier literary form in ancient Near Eastern settings, as evident in the Tale of Ahiqar (cf. Cowley 1923: 204–48). Nevertheless, the story of Joseph’s service for pharaoh (Gen 37–50), from earlier in their tradition, indicates that Israelite interest in court tales may have preceded the Babylonian exile. Except for 1 Esdras 3–4, these texts all presuppose a continuing life in diaspora and do not look to a return to Israel. In all of them a Judean, a member of a subject ethnic group, encounters difficulties but emerges triumphant. They thus serve to affirm the values and identity of his or her ethnic group and also show that it is possible to be both a Judean and a loyal subject of a foreign king with a reputable status. One useful distinction, initially formulated by Humphreys and utilized by Wills, is between “conflict” and “contest” versions of these tales (Humphreys 1977; Wills 1999). In the former, the difficulties that the hero or heroine encounters involve his or her coming into conflict with a member or members of the indigenous royal elite, only to be eventually vindicated by the king. Esther is an excellent example. Susanna is somewhat different, in that the threat to her arises from two Judean elders who falsely accuse her of adultery, and she is only saved from execution by Daniel’s demonstration of the false testimony of her accusers, who then suffer the fate they had wanted to mete out on her. In the “contest” scenario, the Judean protagonist rises to prominence before the king by solving some problem that the indigenous courtiers could not solve (cf. Dan chs. 2–3, 5). Although God plays a variable role in court tales (in Esther, e.g. “God” is not mentioned), Wills notes that all of them express the moral view that the deserving person will eventually succeed. In Daniel, for instance, the personal piety of those deemed righteous has begun to be emphasized. Finally, some of these tales give a prominent role to women (such as Esther, Vashti, Zeresh, Susannah, and Judith). The exotic and dramatic—at times melodramatic—character of these stories and their portrayal of beautiful but threatened women have for centuries made them very popular pretexts for artistic representation. The divergent ways in which the story of Susanna and the elders has been portrayed in varying historical contexts, e.g., would itself repay a detailed receptionhistorical examination.

Bibliography W. L. Humphreys, “A Life-Style for Diaspora: A Study of the Tales of Esther and Daniel,” JBL 96 (1977): 211–23. PHILIP ESLER

Related entries: Daniel, Additions to; Daniel, Book of; Esdras, First Book of; Jews in the Persian Court (4Q550); Judith, Book of; Ahiqar Proverbs; Novels; Restoration.

Covenant Introduction.  In the 6th century bce and following, with the return from exile of various groups of Judeans, the concept of covenant proves to be influential. In these circumstances covenant often becomes a catalyst for Jewish thought during the Second Temple period. After exile, the literature

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exhibits a striking diversity of ideas related to covenant; there are covenantal developments associated with certain prophetic circles, with the Priestly school of biblical authors, with scribes responsible for wisdom writings, and with other groups of distinction. Eventually, various trajectories of covenantal thinking develop and give shape to the Second Temple period throughout its duration. The following examines the various perspectives on covenant that emerged at this time and explores the importance of each within its religious and historical context. Key Terminology.  In the Hebrew Bible generally, the concept of covenant is expressed through the lexeme ‫( ברית‬bryt), and texts are considered covenantal when they include this expression. There are exceptions, however, namely the non-‫( ברית‬bryt) texts or texts said to be covenantal even though the most common Hebrew term for covenant, ‫( ברית‬bryt), is not attested. In such cases, the text in question contains other indicators of covenant, such as ‫( שבועה‬šbwʿh), “oath,” ‫( אלה‬ʾlh), “curse,” ‫( ברכה‬brkh), “blessing,” and ‫( עדות‬ʿdwt), “witness, testimony.” Covenant and Ideal Figures.  Through the monarchic period, certain traditions associated with Moses, Abraham, and David were either explicitly covenantal (Moses) or construed in terms of the divine-human relationship (Abraham and David). In the Second Temple period, all three traditions were significantly reinterpreted along covenantal lines as part of the aftermath of the exile to Babylon. Moses. The Sinai covenant associated with Moses evolved as a response to the unthinkable destruction and human loss experienced in the exile. The exile shook the covenant to its foundations. Consequently, beginning in the postexilic period a restored and renewed Sinai covenant emerged with kinship, ritual, and creation as its dominant features (Bautch 2009). The conclusion to the Sinai theophany (Exod 24:3–8) is a prime example of a late and highly ritualized exercise in making covenant with a God who is omnipotent and creator of all. Kinship is recalled in terms of Israel’s twelve tribes (Exod 24:4), and the peoples’ refrain, “We will do everything the Lord has told us” (Exod 24:3, 7), parallels the covenantal pledge voiced by Joshua’s family (Josh 24:15, 24). Abraham. The Priestly writers drew attention to Abraham as a conduit for covenantal thinking in the Second Temple period. As a result of the exile, they sought an enduring Abrahamic framework within which to explore God’s relationship with humanity and with Israel. Specifically, these Priestly writers favored the concept of an “eternal covenant” that could withstand exile and similar misfortune, and they associated this eternal covenant with Moses (Gen 9:16) and Abraham (Gen 17:7). There are contemporary texts reporting that God “remembered” the covenant with Abraham (Lev 26:42), a divine act tantamount to reaffirming the exiles and assuring them that they will fare better in the future than they have in the past. The Abrahamic covenant alone, however, does not ensure future blessing. More is required as the Abrahamic covenant in Leviticus 26:42 is preceded by a penitential expression (Lev 26:40) in which the people confess their iniquity, their treachery, and their hostility toward God. The tripartite confession of sin, patterned along the lines of Second Temple prayers such as Daniel 9:5 and 1QS i 21–26, indicates that God’s willingness to restore and fulfill the covenant is tied to Israel’s penitence. Indeed, penitence, like kinship, ritual, and creation, becomes highly prominent in the covenantal matrix of the Second Temple period. David. The end of the Davidic dynasty, when the Babylonians executed the sons of King Zedekiah, led to the reinterpretation of traditions associated with David. Psalm 89 laments the

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apparent loss of divine favor once promised to the kings of Judea: “You renounced the covenant with your servant, defiled his crown in the dust” (Ps 89:40). Conversely, the writer responsible for Isaiah 55:3–5 understands the dynastic promise as no longer given to the Davidides but now to be shared by all the people: “I will renew with you the everlasting covenant, the benefits assured to David.” The strategy of restoring the Davidic covenant by associating it with another group also informs Jeremiah 33:14–26, a text dated to the Second Temple period. A redactor of Jeremiah describes eternal covenants with both the Davidic line and the Levitical priesthood. Similar promises to both groups are set alongside one another. By speaking of these promises as covenants, the redactor may be reflecting a historical moment in which the priesthood was understood to be nearly as important in concept as the monarchy had been. Another significant feature of Jeremiah 33 is its blending language reminiscent of the Davidic promises with the Abrahamic covenant, described allusively in terms of heavenly stars and grains of sand (Jer 33:22). That is, beyond merging David’s legacy with that of certain Levitical priests, the biblical author here harmonizes two major covenantal traditions that had largely been kept separate through the monarchic period. In the time of the Second Temple, covenantal thought reflected diversity, multiplicity, and creativity as in this fusing of the Davidic and Abrahamic systems. A similar development occurs in Leviticus 26, which evokes both the Abrahamic and the Sinai covenants. God remembers the patriarchal covenants (Lev 26:42) alongside the covenant at Sinai (Lev 26:15, 25, 44, 45). Taken together, these verses in Leviticus 26 move beyond a typological approach and reflect an arguably more holistic way of construing covenant in the Second Temple period. Development of the Covenant Idea.  It is important to note how sectarian and proto-sectarian groups employed covenant in the Second Temple period. At this time, there were segments within society that defined themselves around issues such as intermarriage, circumcision, Sabbath observance, and the celebration of festivals. Typically, the groups maintained a sharply drawn, single-issue profile but tempered any exclusivism and tried to keep within the mainstream of greater Israel. The members of the groups in question at times made an agreement among themselves not to waver on their single issue, such as opposition to intermarriage in the case of those responsible for Ezra 9–10. This group, and others like it (cf. e.g. 1 En. 10:9; Tob 4:12), often spoke of its internal agreement as a covenant that they linked to the broader covenant that God gave to Israel through Moses on Mount Sinai (Ezra 10:3). The covenant thus ran in two correlative directions; it ensured right conduct on the issue of utmost concern as it offered the prospects of broad unity to all the peoples entering the pact started by this group. Similarly, Nehemiah 10 features a covenantal agreement to perform certain commandments related to intermarriage and the Sabbath (Neh 10:30, 33), suggesting that a Judean group had been energized around a few select issues. The same group, however, simultaneously understood itself more globally and projected its covenant broadly; in Nehemiah 10:30, the group members bind themselves together in a pact to follow all the laws of Moses. The Dead Sea Scrolls reflect the phenomenon highlighted in Ezra and Nehemiah, that of a group’s covenant running in two quite different directions. In the Damascus Document (CD and related 4Q and 5Q manuscripts), covenant ensures right conduct on a group’s key issue while at the same time offering the prospects of broad unity to all who would enter the group’s pact. Grossman (2002: 63–64) notes how the claim in CD iii 13 that “God’s new covenant with this 173

Covenantal Nomism

community is a covenant with Israel forever” is repeated several times in the text. Grossman’s analysis of this language identifies “an overlay of two covenants upon one another. The first is the covenant at Sinai, which the people of Israel swore to uphold. The second is the covenant of the community, which causes the people to engage in proper Torah practices.” The ancient reader of the Damascus Document, however, apprehends a single covenant, “the special possession of the community described in the text and also fundamentally tied to the Sinai experience of the people of Israel.” A relatively isolated group’s covenant claims to embrace all of Israel. The Dead Sea Scrolls provide other examples of this effect, e.g. the covenant in 1QSa (i 1–5), which points toward both the narrowly defined priestly group with which it originated and Israel at the eschaton (cf. further 1QpHab ii). Covenant is appropriated in this manner and more broadly if one considers the Second Temple literature written in the later part of this period. A prime example is the Book of Jubilees, which exhibits an abiding interest in covenant. Remarkably, the author of Jubilees locates the origin of covenant even before the time of creation. The author supplies a covenantal introduction to creation near the beginning of the work (Jub. 1:10) and, in describing creation in chapter 2, he does everything but use the term “covenant.” In Jubilees 2 the author establishes a symmetrical relationship between creation and covenant. The chosen line (22 generations until Jacob) and the items of creation (22 acts of creation until the Sabbath) mirror each other, and the manner in which Sabbath is built into creation further links covenant and creation. While the Hebrew Bible lists various covenants in historical succession, Jubilees implies that there is one, eternal covenant that is expressed variously, through the pact with Moses at Sinai and through the agreements that God makes with the patriarchs. Moreover, in Jubilees covenant is a transcendent phenomenon in that it reaches back before history began and extends forward as well into the eschaton, which is coterminous with the afterlife of the blessed and righteous who appear in the closing verses of Jubilees 23 (Mermelstein 2014: 88–132). In this manner Jubilees exemplifies the principle Urzeit ist Endzeit as it demonstrates the far-reaching significance of covenant in the literature of the Second Temple period.

Bibliography R. J. Bautch, Glory and Power, Ritual and Relationship: The Sinai Covenant in the Postexilic Period, LHBOTS 471 (London: T&T Clark, 2009). M. Grossman, Reading for History in the Damascus Document: A Methodological Study, STDJ 45 (Leiden: Brill, 2002). RICHARD J. BAUTCH

Related entries: Contracts from the Judean Desert; Covenantal Nomism; Election; Ezra, Book of; Festivals and Holy Days; Judgment; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Nehemiah, Book of; Restoration; Sectarianism.

Covenantal Nomism The term “covenantal nomism” was coined by E. P. Sanders in his book Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977), in which Sanders strenuously challenged what he saw as a blind spot in the vision of Paul’s interpreters. Typically, the Judaism of Paul’s day was caricatured as little more than a religion of works: individualistic self-achievement lay at the heart of Jewish practice, resulting either in a smug sense of self-sufficiency or in an extreme pessimism about one’s abilities in the 174

Covenantal Nomism

face of God’s future judgment. In this construct, observance of the law was mere pettifogging in an arid wasteland of religious formalism. Scholars used this paradigm (i.e. securing personal merits to access future salvation) as a backdrop to contrast 1st century Judaism with 1st century Christianity. Sanders contested this construal of things, claiming that this works-based “Judaism” was a Christian construct that failed to do justice to the predominant convictions within Second Temple Judaism. Those convictions were animated, he argued, by a fundamental conviction of divine grace upon the people of Israel, whom God had chosen in a relationship of election. Sanders’ term “covenantal nomism” was indicative of the thrust of his challenge, since it placed observance of the Torah (i.e. “nomism”) within the context of a relationship of grace (i.e. “covenantal”). Sanders defined “covenantal nomism” as “the view that one’s place in God’s plan is established on the basis of the covenant and that the covenant requires as the proper response of man his obedience to its commandments, while providing means of atonement for transgression” (1977: 75). In this view, obedience to the Torah is wholly relational, being the appropriate response of a corporate people to God’s prior electing grace. According to Sanders, “Obedience maintains one’s position in the covenant, but it does not earn God’s grace as such”; instead, observance of the Torah “simply keeps an individual in the group which is the recipient of God’s grace” (1977: 420). The only exception that Sanders could find to this “pattern of religion” was 4 Ezra, written about 100 ce. In that text, the covenantal moorings of Jewish thought and practice had been severed by the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce—an event that, according to Sanders, struck against the author’s inherited convictions, causing him to abandon them. Sanders’ work is rightly recognized as a monumental watershed; there is simply no going back to old caricatures of Judaism in the Second Temple period. But neither has Sanders provided the final word. He has been criticized on two particular fronts. First, if grace was a theological commonplace within Second Temple Judaism, grace was not understood in the same way throughout the diversity of Jewish theological articulations. As John Barclay has argued (2015: esp. 194–328), Jewish texts “perfect” different aspects of grace in different ways. Early Christian discourse about grace, then, rightly falls within the context of Second Temple discourse about grace, but that discourse was more diverse than either Sanders or his predecessors had recognized. Second, Sanders’ interest in capturing the “pattern of religion” of Second Temple Judaism failed to do full justice to the broader theological conversation about God’s electing grace. In particular, Jewish theological discourse about God’s election of a covenant people often functioned (in one fashion or another) in relation to convictions about God’s sovereignty over a creation that is out-of-joint. In that regard, the diverse Jewish discourse about God’s election of Israel was closely linked to discourse about the triumph of the covenant God of Israel over the forces of the evil that pervade God’s created order.

Bibliography E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1977). BRUCE W. LONGENECKER

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Election; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Grace (Ḥesed); Ioudaios; Jesus of Nazareth.

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Creation Given that the biblical tradition is arranged to begin with the creation of the world (Gen 1), it is not surprising that creation is a major theme in the literature of Second Temple Judaism. It is seldom addressed in isolation from other major theological themes such as election, revelation, or salvation, however. Nor is creation discussed exclusively in relation to stories of origins; rather, creation is a continuous process that attests to divine sovereignty over the world. Discussions of creation in the beginning tend to emphasize the creation of human beings, whereas discussions of the non-human creation tend to be observations about how the world works in the present. The figure of Wisdom acts as a bridge between creation “in the beginning” and the revelatory character of the created order in the present. Creation is also invoked as evidence of God’s power to save, whether it be individuals, Israel, or the whole world. Second Temple period retellings of the seven-day creation story focus on the divine-human relationship, but culminate in the election of Israel. In Jubilees, the institution of the Sabbath after the six days of creation prompts God to choose and bless a people for himself (2:19–21; Mermelstein 2014: 91–93). Similarly, Josephus’ recounting of Genesis 1 presents the Sabbath as both grounded in creation and particular to the Jewish people (Ant. 1.33). Ben Sira, by reading Genesis 1–3 through the lens of Deuteronomy 32:8–9, describes the creation of humankind as culminating in the giving of the Torah on Sinai (17:1–17). In 4 Ezra, Adam is mentioned at the end of an account of the six days of creation as both the ruler over the works of creation and the ancestor of the chosen people (6:54; Moo 2011: 41–42). Thus, there is no clear line between creation theology and covenant theology in Second Temple Judaism nor between the so-called “primeval history” and the history of Israel (see, e.g., Wis 10). Hence, hellenized Jewish authors such as Philo of Alexandria are able to claim that the Torah is a perfect copy of the law of nature (e.g. Philo, Mos. 2:52; cf. Aristobulus, frag. 5; Let. Aris. 161). Lying behind assertions of the rationality of the divine law is a pervasive belief that the created order is a medium of divine revelation. For example, Sirach 16:26–28 describes the obedience of the heavenly luminaries to divine commands (cf. T. Naph. 3:2), as a prelude to the passage in chapter 17 about the creation of human beings with understanding corresponding to the law that was given to Israel. First Enoch 2–5 is an extensive exhortation of the audience to obedience based on the contrast between the orderly behavior of the non-human creation and the rebelliousness of the addressees (Argall 1995: 159–64). In the context of a polemic against idolatry, the Wisdom of Solomon argues that only fools could fail to infer the existence of one creator from “the greatness and beauty of created things” (13:1–5). Similarly, Ben Sira’s great hymn praising the works of creation (42:15–43:33) concludes that it is impossible to adequately praise God, so far does his greatness surpass that of his works (43:27–33). In all of these contexts, the focus is on the present, observable world rather than the primeval time of creation. The figure of Wisdom, present at the creation of the world according to Proverbs 8:22–31, connects primeval creation to the theme of the revelatory character of the created order and to claims about the harmony between the Torah and the natural order. Chapter 24 of Sirach draws together all of these themes: the same Wisdom that “came from the mouth of the Most High” (v. 3) at creation pervades the whole world, but found her “resting place” (v. 7) in Israel and is in some way to be identified with the Torah of Moses (v. 23; cf. Bar 4:1). The Wisdom of Solomon does not pursue the identification of Wisdom with the Torah but goes further in divinizing Wisdom by

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making her the savior of Israel (Cox 2007: 81–84). In chapters 11–19, a universalizing retelling of the Exodus deliverance narrative, creation is the means of punishing oppressors and saving the righteous (16:24). Ben Sira makes a similar claim about the works of creation having a good purpose for the righteous but turning to evil for sinners (39:16–34, esp. v. 27). The connection between creation and salvation takes many forms in Second Temple texts. In 2 Maccabees, the mother of the seven sons who were martyred by Antiochus IV Epiphanes refers to both creation in the womb and the creation of the world as assurances that God can raise the dead (7:22–29). In 4 Ezra, similarly, the angel Uriel uses pregnancy as an analogy for resurrection (4:40–42; Moo 2011: 42). More generally, the angel Uriel asserts that just as God was responsible for the beginning of the world, God alone will bring about its end (4 Ezra 6:6; cf. 2 Bar. 56:2–4). Similar to the way the wisdom literature claims that Wisdom was present at the creation of the world, the redeemer figure in the Book of Parables (1 Enoch 37–71), the Son of Man, was appointed before creation (1 En. 48:6). In many apocalyptic texts, the eschatological reward of the righteous mirrors the state of the first humans in the garden of Eden (e.g. 1 En. 25:3–6, 90:37–38; 2 Bar. 51:10–12; 4 Ezra 7:36, 8:52). Creation is thus a central theme in the texts of Second Temple Judaism, but not one that appears in isolation. Rather, it is construed as the beginning of the history of Israel and as a basis for eschatological expectations. It is also inextricable from beliefs about revelation, Torah, and Wisdom.

Bibliography R. Cox, By the Same Word: Creation and Salvation in Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity, BZNW 145 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). A. Mermelstein, Creation, Covenant and the Beginnings of Judaism, JSJSup 168 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). J. A. Moo, Creation, Nature and Hope in 4 Ezra, FRLANT 237 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011). KARINA MARTIN HOGAN

Related entries: Ezra, Fourth Book of; Garden of Eden—Paradise; Genesis, Book of; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Martyrdom; Revelation, Book of; Righteousness and Justice; Wisdom (Personified).

Crucifixion Introduction.  Thousands of Jewish people were crucified under Roman rule. One of the earliest extant uses of the Greek vocabulary for impalement and crucifixion occurs in Herodotus, writing during the late 5th century bce (Hist.1.128.2; 3.132.2—ἀνεσκολοπίζω, aneskolopizō, “fix on a pole”). During the Second Temple period, crucifixion is widely testified among the Romans. Jewish perceptions of the cross were shaped at this time, even transforming biblical traditions and stories of people hung aloft (e.g. Deut 21:22; Esth 7:9) into analogs of the cross (see below). Amid this data, scholars debate the precise definition of crucifixion and whether Second Temple Jewish leaders practiced it. Definition.  Concerning definition, ancient Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Latin terminology for the cross designated a wider range of bodily suspension penalties than “crucifixion” does in

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English. Thus Josephus employed Greek crucifixion terminology to depict the penal suspension of both the living and the dead (ἀνασταυρόω, anastauroō in Life 420; Ant. 6.374), and he observed Roman soldiers inventing different postures for their victims (J.W. 5.451) (Figure 4.40). However, most scholars contend that Roman-era “cross” (σταυρός, stauros) language should be viewed as collective evidence for crucifixion (Díez Merino 1976: 44–47; Cook 2014: 2–48). Samuelsson has insisted on a rigorous definition (including a “prolonged death-struggle”) that conforms to modern notions of crucifixion, disallowing all but a handful of ancient texts as evidence (Samuelsson 2013). Chapman, however, argues that the range of ancient terminology for human bodily suspension demonstrates that ancients were less concerned about precise methods, and that Jewish perceptions were similar (Chapman 2008: 7–33). Below, “crucifixion” includes this broader set of punishments. Literary and Archaeological Evidence.  Josephus details multiple instances of crucifixion in Judea-Palestine. He recounts that Antiochus IV Epiphanes crucified Jews (Ant. 12.256; cf. As.

Figure 4.40  Suggested postures for crucifixion based on archaeological data.

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Moses 8:1–5), though other ancient accounts do not report this (cf. 1 Macc 1:44–61). Roman officials employed crucifixion to suppress brigandage and revolt. Thus Varus crucified “around 2,000” (J.W. 2.75; cf. As. Moses 6:7–9). Tiberius Julius Alexander suspended two prominent rebels (Ant. 20.102). Quadratus crucified Jewish and Samaritan combatants (20.129). Felix affixed innumerable brigands to the cross (J.W. 2.253). Florus crucified Jewish men, even some of equestrian rank (J.W. 2.306–308). Bassus used the threat of the cross (“the most pitiable of deaths”) to cause rebels to relinquish their besieged town (J.W. 7.202–203). Titus surrounded Jerusalem with hundreds of crosses, with soldiers amusing themselves by innovating new postures (J.W. 5.449–451; cf. 5.289). Josephus maintains that he requested the Romans to remove three living men from crosses; even with extensive medical care, only one survived (Life 420–421). Much discussion surrounds the archaeological discovery of a crucified male in an ossuary near Jerusalem at Giv’at ha-Mivtar. A nail remains embedded in his right calcaneum (heel), implying each foot had been nailed to the cross (Figure 4.41). Philo testifies to a mass Roman crucifixion of Alexandrian Jews (Flacc. 72, 84), mentioning that on some imperial holidays it was permissible to remove victims from the cross (83). Jesus’ crucifixion outside Jerusalem, as reported in the New Testament Gospels and perhaps within Josephus (Ant. 18.64), seemed plausible to Roman authors (e.g. Tacitus, Ann. 15.44.3). Rabbinic works provide further references, and the cross becomes an extreme example of death in rabbinic case law and haggadic stories (Chapman 2008: 195–203).

Figure 4.41  Heel bone of Yehoḥanan, with nail inside.

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Several Hebrew Bible passages mention someone “hung on a tree” (Chapman 2008: 97–177; Deut 21:22–23; Josh 8:29; 10:26; Esth 7:9), which was a common penalty in the Ancient Near East (Chapman and Schnabel 2015: 322–411). As early as the Old Greek of Esther, translators began rendering the suspension of Haman with crucifixion terminology (Esth 7:9—σταυρόω, stauroō). Philo (Ios. 93–98), Josephus (Ant. 2.72–73), and the targumim spoke of the baker in Genesis 40–41 as crucified (e.g. Tg. Onq. to Gen 40:22 and 41:13). In this vein, it is no surprise that the law of suspending a criminal in Deuteronomy 21:22–23 was interpreted as crucifixion in Philo, Josephus, and rabbinic writings, and a similar move is presupposed by Paul in Galatian 3:10–13 in relation to Jesus’ death. The ancient Jewish debate about whether crucifixion was permissible focuses on this passage (Chapman 2008: 33–38). Rabbis claim that the verb order in Deuteronomy 21 forbids Jewish practice of ante-mortem crucifixion “like the Romans” (e.g. Sipre Deut. 221; b. Sanh. 46b), whereas the Temple Scroll reverses the order of key verbs, thus implying that suspension was the means of execution (11QTa lxiv 6–13). Philo states that God commands crucifixion (Spec. 3.151–152). Two stories of Jewish leaders suspending people to death appear in the literature—one of Alexander Jannaeus crucifying 800 of his Jewish countrymen (Josephus, J.W. 1.97; cf. 4QpNah 3–4 i 6–9), and another of Simeon b. Shetach suspending women in Ashkelon (m. Sanh. 6:4—later understood to be 80 witches). Hengel contended that the Simeon account encodes a Pharisaic response to Alexander’s crucifying Pharisees (Hengel 1984), though not all scholars concur (Chapman 2008: 69).

Bibliography D. W. Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions of Crucifixion, WUNT 2.244 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). D. W. Chapman and E. J. Schnabel, The Trial and Crucifixion of Jesus: Texts and Commentary, WUNT 2.344 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). J. G. Cook, Crucifixion in the Mediterranean World, WUNT 2.327 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). L. Díez Merino, “El suplicio de la cruz en la literatura Judia intertestamental,” SBFLA 26 (1976): 31–120. M. Hengel, Rabbinische Legende und frühpharisäische Geschichte: Schimeon b. Schetach und die achtzig Hexen von Askalon (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1984). G. Samuelsson, Crucifixion in Antiquity, 2nd ed., WUNT 2.310 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). DAVID W. CHAPMAN

Related entries: Atonement; Death and Afterlife; John, Gospel of; Josephus, Writings of; Judgment; LukeActs; Matthew, Gospel of; Mark, Gospel of; Nahum, Pesher of; Pauline Letters; Persecution, Religious; Righteousness and Justice; Roman Governors; Romanization; Samaritans.

Cyprus Jews settled on many Greek islands, not least Cyprus because of its proximity to Palestine (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). Three inscriptions in Phoenician characters using Yahwistic names testify to Jewish presence as early as the 4th century bce (IJO III: Cyp6–8). For the Hellenistic period, 1 Maccabees testifies that (ca. 140 bce) Simon the Maccabee sent an envoy to Rome who returned with “letters to the kings and countries” (15:15), in which the consul of Rome warned from harming the Jews anywhere. Copies were sent “to the Spartans, to Delos, Myndos, Sicyon, Caria, Samos, Pamphylia, Lycia, Halicarnassus, Rhodes, Phaselis, Cos, Side, Arados, Gortyna, Cnidos, Cyprus and Cyrene” (15:23). Referring to the reign of Ptolemy 180

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IX (142–80 bce), Josephus says that “at this time not only were the Jews in Jerusalem and its country-side in a flourishing condition, but also those who lived in Alexandria and Egypt and Cyprus” (Ant. 13.284). For the early Roman period Philo of Alexandria has King Agrippa I list the countries where Jews have established “colonies,” and adds that such colonies are also found on “the most highly esteemed of the islands, Euboea, Cyprus, and Crete” (Legat. 282). Acts 4:36 records among the earliest (Jewish) Christians in Jerusalem a Levite of Cypriot origin called Joseph, whom the apostles surnamed Barnabas. This Barnabas is later said to have become the companion of the apostle Paul during his missionary activity. This partnership, however, soon broke up: in Antioch they became so embroiled in conflict with each other that Barnabas went to Cyprus, apparently returning to his original homeland (15:39). Before that rupture, however, the two had visited Cyprus and preached in Salamis, the main city on the east coast, where there were several synagogues (13:5). Thereafter they traveled to Paphos where “they met a magician, a Jewish false prophet, named Bar-Jesus” (13:6), who opposed them. Acts 11:19–20 records that, after being persecuted in Jerusalem, some Jewish Christians “traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch, and they spoke the word to no one except Jews; but among them were some men of Cyprus and Cyrene who, on coming to Antioch, spoke to the Greeks also.” Regarding the period after 70 ce Cassius Dio (early 3rd cent. ce) reports that in 115–117 ce the Jews of Cyprus revolted against the Romans and 240,000 persons were massacred (Hist. Rom. 68.32). Being part of a larger uprising that began in Cyrenaica, where the Jews attacked Greeks and Romans, the revolt had spread to Egypt and Cyprus. Even though the number of casualties given by Cassius Dio is improbably high, one may infer that the Jewish population of Cyprus must have been large. Although after their defeat Jews were no longer allowed to live on the island, there is epigraphic evidence for a Jewish presence there in the later Roman period (IJO III: Cyp1–5).

Bibliography P. W. van der Horst, “The Jews of Ancient Cyprus,” Jews and Christians (2006), 28–36. T. B. Mitford, “The Cults of Roman Cyprus,” ANRW II.18/3 (1990): 2176–211. A. Nobbs, “Cyprus,” The Book of Acts in Its Graeco-Roman Setting (1994), 2:279–89. D. Noy and H. Bloedhorn, IJO 3 (2004): 213–26. PIETER W. VAN DER HORST

Related entries: Diaspora; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 ce; Kitos War).

Cyrenaica Cyrenaica was a region west of Egypt in ancient North Africa known especially for its five major cities: Cyrene, Berenice, Teucheira, Ptolemais, and Apollonia (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). A sizable Jewish community lived in the area from at least the Hellenistic period (Strabo as quoted in Josephus, Ant. 14.114–118), thus offering the historian a compelling laboratory in which to examine Jewish diaspora life in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Although evidence during the Hellenistic period is somewhat sparse, Josephus claims that Ptolemy I (303–285 bce) settled some Jews, perhaps military colonists, in Cyrenaica (Ag. Ap. 2.22). That the author of 2 Maccabees identifies his work as an epitome of the five-volume 181

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account of the Maccabean revolt written by Jason of Cyrene (2 Macc 2:23) suggests that some Jews from Hellenistic Cyrenaica possessed the resources, status, and education sufficient to advance to prominent positions within society there. The evidence, particularly epigraphic data, for Jews in Cyrenaica during the early Roman period (ca. 31 bce–116 ce) is much more robust, bespeaking the extent to which many Jews were thoroughly integrated within the political and social matrices of the region. Gymnasium inscriptions and ephebic lists with Jewish names indicate that some elite Jews were able to enter the urban citizen body (Lüderitz 1983: 6–7, 41). Several inscriptions attest the elevation of Jews to prominent civic positions: for instance, Simon son of Simon served as a member of a delegation sent from Ptolemais to Lanuvium (Lüderitz 1983: 36), and Eleazar son of Jason was one of the nomophylakes (“guardians of the law”) in Cyrene (Lüderitz 1983: 8). Two inscriptions from Berenice honor wealthy benefactors (Jewish and non-Jewish) for their patronage to the Jewish politeuma, further indicating the successful assimilation of the Jewish community within Cyrenaica’s urban fabric (Lüderitz 1983: 70–71). The threads of this fabric would begin to unravel with the outbreak of revolution in Judea in 66 ce. A coin with the inscription “The Freedom of Zion,” dating to year two of the revolt, was found in Cyrene, suggesting the presence of war refugees (Lüderitz 1983: 27). Shortly after Titus destroyed Jerusalem in 70 ce, Jonathan the Weaver led a failed uprising in Cyrenaica, which the Roman governor Catullus quickly and violently suppressed, slaughtering a significant number of wealthy Jews while confiscating their property (Josephus, J.W. 7.437–450; Life 424–425). A few decades later, perhaps fueled by a messianic fervor combined with the memory of Catullus’ brutality, the Diaspora revolt of 116–117 ce broke out in the region, with Cyrenaica experiencing extensive destruction at the hands of Jewish rebels (Dio Cassius 68.32; Lüderitz 1983: 17–19, 21–23). As the rebels shifted their attention to Egypt, the emperor Trajan sent troops to quash the revolt. This failed revolution effectively ended Jewish life in Cyrenaica until at least the 4th century ce.

Bibliography S. Applebaum, Jews and Greeks in Ancient Cyrene, SJLA 28 (Leiden: Brill, 1979). G. Barker, J. A. Lloyd, and J. M. Reynolds, Cyrenaica in Antiquity (Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, 1985). M. W. B. Bowsky, “M. Tittius Sex. F. Aem. and the Jews of Berenice,” AJP 108.3 (1987): 495–510. J. F. Healy, “The Cyrene Half-Shekel,” JSS 2 (1957): 377–79. G. Lüderitz, Corpus jüdischer Zeugnisse aus der Cyrenaika (Wiesbaden: L. Reichert, 1983). JASON VON EHRENKROOK

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Coins; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, First Jewish; Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 ce; Kitos War).

Cyrus the Great Cyrus II of Persia (ruled between 559 and 530 bce), also known as Cyrus the Great, was the founder of the Achaemenid Empire (Olmstead 1948: 34–58). He was the son of Cambyses I, King of Anshan and Mandane, daughter of Astyages, King of Media. Greek legend has him growing up a pauper, far from his parents’ palace, but according to his own inscriptions, he was 182

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preceded as king of Persia by his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. He was married to Cassandane, an Achaemenian, and he sired two sons and three daughters. Cyrus acceded to the throne of Persia in 559 bce, and until the death of his father (551 bce) he ruled in Pasargadae as a vassal king of his grandfather, Astyages the Median. He revolted against Astyages in 553 bce (cf. Bel 1) and after three years of hostilities, he captured Ecbatana, the capital of Media. Cyrus then united the twin Achaemenid kingdoms of Parsa and Anshan (Dandamaev 1989: 3–6). He conquered the Lydian kingdom in 546 bce and concluded his conquest of Asia Minor, and probably also of Phoenicia, by 542 bce. By 540 bce, Cyrus had also captured Elam and its capital, the ancient city of Susa. Direct conflict with Babylon began when their ruler, Nabonidus, ordered that all cult statues be brought to the capital. In 539 bce the famous battle of Opis took place on the Tigris River. Cyrus’ army routed the Babylonians, and a few days later seized the city of Sippar without confrontation, probably without civilian resistance. Negotiations between Cyrus and the Babylonian priests and army leaders had most likely been conducted by then, and a few days later Cyrus’ army entered Babylon, possibly by deflecting the water of the Euphrates into a canal so the water level dropped and the army could invade the city through the riverbed. There was no resistance from the Babylonian army, Nabonidus was captured, and the cult in the temples continued as usual. When Cyrus himself entered Babylon, he proclaimed himself “king of Babylon, king of Sumer and Akkad, king of the four corners of the world,” as stated in the famous Cyrus Cylinder. According to the text of this cylinder, Cyrus described himself as the one chosen by the Babylonian god Marduk who was endeavoring to please the deity by improving the lives of the people of Babylonia, restoring temples and cult sanctuaries, and repatriating exiles (Wiesehöfer 1996: 44–45). The Cyrus Cylinder is considered by many to represent the first ever human rights charter, but historians have demonstrated that it should be read in the context of Mesopotamian tradition, when new rulers declared reforms and different acts for the benefit of their people at the start of their reigns (Briant 2002: 40–44). However, this policy made a lasting impression on the Jewish community of deportees in Babylon, who pronounced the Edict of Restoration in Ezra 1 and 6 (cf. also 2 Chr 36:22–23; 1 Esd chs. 2, 4–6) from the Judean perspective as the beginning of a new era in the history of the nation, allowing them to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple and to start the Second Temple period. Cyrus is the only foreign king referred to in the Hebrew Bible as messiah (Isa 45:1–7; cf. further 44:28 and 45:13). After conquering Babylon, Cyrus II ruled over the largest empire that the world had ever seen—from India in the East to Asia Minor in the West. He was succeeded by his son, Cambyses II, who managed to conquer Egypt, Nubia, and Cyrenaica, establishing the empire “from India even unto Ethiopia … one hundred and seven and twenty provinces” (Esth 1:1). Among Greek historians there are different versions and stories about the death of Cyrus the Great, whether at war in the mountains to the northwest of his empire or peacefully in his capital. He was buried near Pasargadae, and many believe that a tomb, which remained intact near the ruins of the city, is the place of his burial. The memory of Cyrus among the Persians was not only as the father of the nation and the founder of the empire but also as a great, broad-minded, and brave leader, a conqueror, and even a liberator of oppressed people. These memories were also known to the Greeks. Xenophon, in his Cyropaedia, chose Cyrus to be the model ruler for the Greeks (cf. Frye 1963: 43–44), and Alexander the Great ordered the interior of Cyrus’ grave restored as an act of admiration and respect to his memory. 183

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In Second Temple literature, the figure of Daniel is coordinated with the period of Cyrus’ reign. The book of Daniel claims that Daniel—together with Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah— enjoyed preeminence in Nebuchadnezzar’s court until the first year of Cyrus (Dan 1:21). Daniel 6:28, however, maintains that Daniel flourished through the reigns of Darius and “Cyrus the Persian,” while in chapter 10 Daniel’s encounter with an angelic figure and vision of the downfall of the Persian Empire to Greece is placed in the third year of Cyrus’ reign. However, in other traditions (2 Chronicles, Ezra, 1 Esdras), Cyrus was associated with having furnished conditions for the rebuilding of the Temple following the exile.

Bibliography P. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, trans. P. T. Daniels (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2002). M. A. Dandamaev, A Political History of the Achaemenid Empire (Leiden: Brill, 1989). R. N. Frye, The Heritage of Persia (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1962). A. T. Olmstead, History of the Persian Empire (Achaemenid Period) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1948). J. Wiesehöfer, Ancient Persia: from 550 BC to 650 AD, trans. A. Azodi (London: I.B.Tauris, 1996). ODED LIPSCHITS

Related entries: Babylonian Culture; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Court Tales; Daniel, Book of; Exile; Ezra, Book of; Jews in the Persian Court (4Q550); Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Persian Period; Persian Religion.

Daliyeh, Wadi edWadi Daliyeh is one of the areas in the vicinity of the Dead Sea where manuscripts have been discovered. They were found together with bullae, coins, and other objects by the Bedouins Ta’âmireh prior to April 1962 in the cave Mughâret Abū Šinjeh, ca. 14 km north of Tell es-Sultan (ancient Jericho) and 12 km west of the river Jordan. The cave was excavated by Paul W. Lapp during two expeditions in January 1963 and February 1964. The cave appears to have served as a hiding place for a large group of people, perhaps 200 men, women and children (Dušek 2007: 7–8). These people seem to have been the inhabitants of the city of Samaria who were killed in the cave by the army of Alexander the Great, possibly during the spring of 331 bce, after Alexander’s conquest of Egypt. This possible punitive expedition of Alexander’s army may have been in reaction to a revolt of the inhabitants of Samaria who, during Alexander’s stay in Egypt, burned alive Andromachos, the governor of Syria appointed by Alexander (Quintus Curtius, Historiae 4, 8, 9–11). It is possible that Alexander’s army found the hiding place of the fugitives and lit a fire at the cave entrance in order to suffocate those who were inside—a group that likely included the owner(s) of the manuscripts (Cross 1974: 17–18; Dušek 2007: 447–53). The manuscripts with bullae from the cave represent the oldest group of papyri found in the southern Levant. The manuscripts are dated to the 4th century bce, a time span that seems to begin with Artaxerxes II and ends with Darius III. All the manuscripts are deeds written in Aramaic, most of them concerning the sale of slaves (Gropp 2001; Dušek 2007). Some of these deeds contain the name of the place of their conclusion: “in the fortress/city of Samaria which is in the

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province of Samaria.” Some of the manuscripts can be attributed to three separate archives: that of Yehopada(y)ni (ca. 375–350 bce), Neṭira son of Yehopada(y)ni (ca. mid-4th cent. bce) and finally that of Yehonur (ca. between 350 and 332 bce). These archives appear to be chronologically successive and a familial connection between the owners cannot be excluded. Not a single manuscript was preserved intact; all are fragmentary. The two best preserved manuscripts are WDSP 1 and WDSP 2 (Figure 4.42), which in their present state represent approximately half of their original size. Bullae that originally sealed the deeds were discovered along with the manuscripts, some of them still attached to their rolled up contracts (Leith 1997). Most of the bullae bear a depiction without any inscription; many motifs are Persian/Near Eastern or Greek. Some of the bullae depict motifs that also appear on coins of the 4th century bce attributed to the province of Samaria (Leith 2000). The bullae with inscription attributed with certainty to the finds in Wadi Daliyeh number only three (WD 22, 23 and 54). Significant among them is the bulla WD 22, originally attached to the manuscript WDSP 16. Its style is different from the others: it bears a Hebrew inscription in two lines, with no depiction. Its owner appears to have been a son of Sanballat, governor of

Figure 4.42  WDSP 2: A deed of a male and a female slave to a woman, Abiyʾadin (December 352/January 351 bce).

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Samaria: “/1/ [Belonging to Dela]yahu, son of [Sin-u]/2/balliṭ, governor of Samar[ia]” (Dušek 2007: 321–31). Other bullae with inscription “Yišmael” may have belonged to the corpus as well. A hoard with coins and jewels may have been found in the cave, but it was broken up and sold into private collections; only a few of its coins were documented (Cross 1974: 57–69; Dušek 2007: 57–62).

Bibliography F. M. Cross, “The Papyri and Their Historical Implications,” in Discoveries in the Wâdī et-Dâliyeh, ed. P. W. Lapp, and N. L. Lapp, The Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research 41 (Cambridge: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1974), 17–29. M. J. W. Leith, “Seals and Coins in Persian Period Samaria,” The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years After Their Discovery (2000), 691–707. JAN DUŠEK

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Babatha Archive; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Inscriptions.

Damascus During its long history, which goes back several thousand years, this major city has been linked to Jewish history and tradition in many ways (Hengel and Schwemer 1998: 50–61). Following the conquest of Alexander the Great, Damascus was transformed into a Greek city (πόλις, polis) with a Hippodamic layout and came intermittently under Ptolemaic and Seleucid control (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). With the decline of the Seleucid Empire, various power-holders from the east staked their claims, including the Judean queen Alexandra, who undertook a campaign to take the city by force, though without success. Provisional stability was achieved when Pompey gained control for the Romans in 66 bce (Schürer 1973–1987: 2.127–129). It was in Damascus that Pompey adjudicated the power dispute between Alexandra’s sons Aristobulus II and Hyrcanus II, a matter that was settled by a bribe from Aristobulus of an invaluable golden vine, which was then placed in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus in Rome (Josephus, Ant. 14.34–36; Diodorus Siculus, Bib. hist. 40.2). Damascus was incorporated into the Roman province of Syria and became the principal city of Coele-Syria, which covered a large area that extended all the way to Sidon in the west (Josephus, Ant. 18.153). In addition, Damascus the most important city of the Decapolis (Pliny, Nat. 5.16.74). Ancient historiographers emphasized the close ties between Damascus and Judea. According to Pompeius Trogus, the Jews originated from Damascus, and Abraham and Israel had even ruled there as kings. He also connected the city with Moses (Justinus, Epitome 3.2.1; 3.2.14). Nicholas of Damascus, a peripatetic scholar of wide learning, came from a prominent Damascene family, in which he took great pride. Beginning in 14 bce, he worked in the court of Herod the Great. According to him, Abraham was the king of Damascus before he came to Judea. He claimed that Abraham remained a highly honored figure there and reported that a village called “Abram’s abode” was named after him (Josephus, Ant. 1.159–160). Elaborating on Genesis 14:15, the Genesis Apocryphon also associates Abraham (Abram) with Damascus (1Q20 xxii 1–11); it is the place beyond which he pursued and defeated the kings who had taken his nephew Lot captive. Since at one time King David had succeeded in conquering Damascus (2 Sam 8:5–7; 1 Kgs 11:24–25; cf. Josephus, Ant. 7.100–104), the city would have been included in end-time 186

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expectations of a restored Davidic kingdom. The “exile” of the Teacher of Righteousness to Damascus and the founding of a community of the “new covenant in the land of Damascus”—a predecessor to the Essene community at Qumran—is mentioned in the Damascus Document (CD A vi 4–5; vi 19; vii 19; viii 21; CD B xix 33–34; xx 12; cf. 4Q267 2.12; 4Q269 4 ii 1; 5.2). As a young governor, Herod the Great escaped from Galilee to Damascus in order to avoid a trial before the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem, which wanted to hold him to account for the murder of the rebel leader Hezekiah (Josephus, Ant. 14.178). Later, as king, he financed both a theater and gymnasium there (Josephus, J.W. 1.422; Ant. 16.149). There were a number of synagogues in Damascus (Acts 9:2, 20; Josephus, J.W. 2.560–561), which attracted a large number of gentile sympathizers. However, there was also hate: at the beginning of the First Jewish Revolt, Josephus reported that some 10,500 Jews were murdered in a pogrom (J.W. 2.560–561; cf. 7.368; Life 27). Around 32/33 ce, Paul wanted to take action against the “Hellenists” who had fled from Jerusalem to Damascus, before interrupted his way there (Acts 9:1–8; 22:5–11; 26:12–18; Gal 1:13–17). He was subsequently received by an Ananias who lived on the “straight street” and, through him, by the Damascus community (Acts 9:10–19). Afterward, Paul went to “Arabia,” i.e., to the region of Nabatea, to engage in mission, before returning to Damascus (Gal 1:17b; Hengel and Schwemer 1998: 86–101). From there he fled the ethnarch of King Aretas IV “in a basket” let down over the city wall (2 Cor 11:32–33; Acts 9:24–25), probably because the king regarded him as a troublemaker. This “ethnarch” was presider over the colony of Nabatean merchants in Damascus (Knauf 1998).

Bibliography M. Hengel and A. M. Schwemer, Paulus zwischen Damaskus und Antiochien, WUNT 108 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998). E. A. Knauf, “Die Arabienreise des Apostels Paulus,” in Paulus zwischen Damaskus und Antiochien, eds. M. Hengel and A. M. Schwemer, WUNT 108 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998), 465–71. ANNA MARIA SCHWEMER

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Ptolemies; Roman Governors; Romanization; Seleucids.

Daniel Daniel’s name means “God is my judge” (‫דנאל‬, dnʾl). Upon his recruitment to the imperial court and arrival in Babylon, he is also assigned the name Belteshazzar, reflecting the Akkadian balaṭsu-uṣur (“protect his life”) or balaṭ-šar-uṣur (“protect the life of the prince”). The narrator of Daniel, whether aware of the etymology or not, links the name with the Babylonian god Bel (Dan 4:8), thus drawing attention to the Babylonian appropriation of Daniel’s identity. Outside the book that bears his name there are few biblical references to Daniel, and none that can be linked to the sage of Daniel 1–6. Daniel is given as the name of the son borne by Abigail in the list of sons of David in 1 Chronicles 3:1, but not in a similar list at 2 Samuel 3:3. There is a Daniel named among the returning exiles in Ezra 8:2 and Nehemiah 10:6, but a historical link with the courtier is unlikely. Daniel is also listed by Ezekiel along with Noah and Job as a righteous figure in the distant past (Ezek 14:14, 20) and then as an archetypal example of wisdom (Ezek 28:3).

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The name Da-ni-èl also appears at Mari (18th cent. bce), and as a royal figure Dnʾil in the Tale of Aqhat from Ugarit (14th cent. bce). Daniel occurs in the pseudo-Daniel fragments from Qumran (4Q243; 4Q245) in the context of the children of Israel’s encounter with Nebuchadnezzar and is arguably the unnamed Jewish exorcist in the Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242). Later, the writer of 1 Maccabees remembers Daniel’s innocence in the face of the lions (1 Macc 2:60) as part of a roll call of the faithful, and 3 Maccabees remembers the faithfulness of God to Daniel in the same circumstances (3 Macc 6:6). In his lengthy paraphrase of the Daniel tales, Josephus alludes to the possibility that Nebuchadnezzar made eunuchs of the chosen young men, although he does not mention Daniel by name (Ant. 10.186–281). On this evidence, in the Second Temple period Daniel was a figure of ancient memory, associated with wisdom and righteousness, and linked to the neo-Babylonian court. These strands coalesce around the Daniel of the court tales (Dan 1–6), to whom the visions of Daniel 7–12 are pseudonymously ascribed. In the Greek tradition (including Susanna and Bel and the Dragon), there is also an emphasis on Daniel as a wise leader of the community in exile (Sus. 64), in contrast to the Masoretic Text’s emphasis on his deeds and promotion within the imperial court. While the biblical tradition of Daniel cannot be tied to a historical personage, the story of his career is plausible. Although the book of Daniel likely was compiled in the 2nd century bce, the tales arguably reflect a Persian provenance, through such details as the name “Daniel” itself (on the evidence of Ezra/Nehemiah), the geographic and bureaucratic imperial organization (notwithstanding that these are anachronistically applied to the neo-Babylonian court), the details given for Belshazzar’s banquet, and the functioning of the collective called the “magicians” (Dan 4:7–9). Further, the “cherry picking” of key figures from various ethnicities in the empire— training them in Babylonian lore, manipulating their identities, and subsequently promoting them to key imperial positions—squares with a Persian provenance. The work’s glimpses of Jewish diaspora community are also inherently likely. As a result, the possibility that the Daniel tradition has grown around a remembered and named figure at the Neo-Babylonian court cannot be excluded. There is an oscillation between the “mantic” or revealed wisdom exercised by Daniel and the execution of his courtly functions. At the same time, when the Greek and Hebrew traditions of Daniel are compared, there is a tension around the locus of Daniel’s influence: the diaspora community, or the imperial court. Thus the Danielic corpus provides evidence that different circles of Jewish tradition in the Second Temple period interpreted and appropriated Daniel the person in diverse ways.

Bibliography L. L Grabbe, “A Dan(iel) for All Seasons: For Whom Was Daniel Important?” The Book of Daniel (2001), 1:229–46. TIM MEADOWCROFT

Related entries: Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Babylonian Culture; Court Tales; Daniel, Additions to; Daniel, Book of; Daniel, Pseudo-Texts; Jews in the Persian Court (4Q550); Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Third Book of; Names and Naming; Persian Period; Persian Religion; Prophets, Texts Associated with; Pseudepigraphy.

188

David

David Although the monarchy was no more, the figure of David was richly elaborated in the Second Temple period. David was not merely a king of old nor simply the ancestor of the anticipated messiah. David also becomes an idealized moral exemplar, prophet, and psalmist during the Second Temple period. Early Idealization.  While the books of Samuel in the Hebrew Bible present a deeply flawed character, the books of Chronicles idealize David: the Bathsheba episode (see 2 Sam 11–12 and the superscription to Ps 51) is missing, and while 2 Samuel 7 relates that God prohibited David from building the Temple, the Chronicler uses this episode to transform David into a prophet-like figure. David receives a divinely written blueprint for the Temple’s architecture and functioning (1 Chr 22, 28); to be sure, Solomon actually builds the Temple, but Chronicles and subsequent tradition make David into its true founder. This presentation may have inspired the later Lives of the Prophets, according to which David designed the prophets’ tombs while Solomon built them. According to Chronicles, David is also the initiator of musical liturgy; he is to liturgy what Moses is to law, and his rulings are invoked as authoritative instruction (e.g. 2 Chr 35:4). Defeat of Goliath.  David’s battle with Goliath (1 Sam 17) was a popular episode for literary embellishment. In Pseudo-Philo (LAB), David is made to say that he descended from Ruth, while Goliath came from Orpah (see Ruth 1); he then defeats Goliath with angelic assistance and is transfigured so that he becomes unrecognizable (LAB 61). This solves the text-critical problem in 1 Samuel 17:55, in which Saul does not recognize David, though the previous chapter has described him as Saul’s armor-bearer. The War Scroll refers to David’s defeat of Goliath as it anticipates the eschatological battle, presenting it as an example of reliance on God’s “powerful name and not in sword or spear” (1QM xi 1–2). Model of Trust and Repentance. The presentation of David as a paradigmatic figure is widespread in the Second Temple period. Ben Sira sets up David as an exemplar for efficacious prayer whose sins were forgiven (Sir 49:4). Two Qumran texts (4QMMT at 4Q398 14 ii 1–2 par. 4Q399 1 i 9: “a man of piety”; and CD A v 1–6) also invoke David as an ethical exemplar based on this reputation as a penitent. These themes are present in Psalm 151, not only known from the Septuagint but also found in a Hebrew version in 11QPsa xxviii, where the Davidic narrator recounts that he made a harp and lyre to praise God, and that his prayer was heard. Musical and Liturgical Legacy.  A number of texts celebrate David in relation to music and liturgy. According to Ben Sira, David established musical instruments and “set the feasts in order” (Sir 47:8–11). Given David’s relationship with worship and music, it is no surprise that he becomes a patron figure for the Psalms. While no single, fixed Psalter existed yet, there was a strong tradition of affixing David’s name to psalms: eventually 73 psalms in the Masoretic Psalter came to have Davidic superscriptions (plus an additional 13 in the Septuagint). The ldwd (‫לדוד‬, “to/for David”) superscription did not originally denote authorship but rather evoked a range of associations with a Davidic king or attempts to “stage” psalm performances in relation to his biography (Mroczek 2016: 51–85). David’s reputation as a psalmist grew over time; Philo

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(Conf. 149) and Josephus (Ant. 8.109–111) know him as a composer of hymns, although they present this characteristic as a highlight of David’s biography, and not in relation to direct claims to authorship of particular texts. A text in the Qumran Psalms Scroll, “David’s Compositions” (11QPsa xxvii), illustrates how David’s persona developed. David is described as an enlightened scribe and sage who was “perfect in all his paths” and composed 4,050 divinely inspired songs (cf. Solomon’s 4,005 compositions, 1 Kgs 5:12) for cultic occasions, listed according to the solar year (VanderKam 1999). The text does not claim authorship of particular compositions but describes a vast, imagined psalmic repertoire and celebrates David’s perfection and productivity. He receives these songs “through prophecy” (he is called “prophet” in Josephus, Ant. 8:109–110 and Acts 2:30; cf. Kugel 1990). He is “luminous like the light of the sun” (11Q5 xxvii 2), which, along with calendrical revelation, wisdom, and scribalism, invites comparison with sages like Enoch who become heavenly figures (Mroczek 2015). According to the Apocalypse of Zephaniah (9:4–5), David resides in heaven with Enoch and Elijah—the two biblical figures who did not die but were taken up. David is a heavenly being in later Jewish and Christian texts, such as the David Apocalypse and the Apocalypse of Paul. Royal Messiah.  While it is common to think of David in the context of messianism, as this is developed in the Hebrew Bible (cf. Blenkinsopp 2013), the Davidic royal messiah is only one of several varieties of messianic expectation (e.g. Hogeterp 2009). Expectation of a Davidic king builds on biblical prophetic language about David’s throne (Jer 33:17) and the shoot from the stump of Jesse (Isa 11:1). This language finds reexpression in Psalms of Solomon 17 and 18, 4Q285 7.2–5, 4QpIsa B (at 4Q162 8–10.12–24), and 4Q252 v 1–6. David was far from being the only one from tradition to have been idealized or elevated as an eschatological figure, whether in a priestly, prophetic, or celestial role. However, his functions as founder of liturgy, as an exemplar for prayer, as a psalmist, and as a prophet render him an ideal figure in Second Temple Jewish culture that ranges far beyond messianism.

Bibliography A. L. A. Hogeterp, Expectations of the End, STDJ 83 (Leiden: Brill, 2009). J. L. Kugel, “David the Prophet,” in Poetry and Prophecy: The Beginnings of a Literary Tradition, ed. J. L. Kugel (New York: Cornell University Press, 1990), 45–55. E. Mroczek, “‘David did not ascend into the heavens’ (Acts 2:34): Early Jewish Ascent Traditions and the Myth of Exegesis in the New Testament,” Judaïsme ancien 3 (2015): 261–94. J. C. VanderKam, “Studies on ‘David’s Compositions,” Eretz Israel 26 (1999): 212–20. EVA MROCZEK

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; David Apocryphon; Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Messianism; Penitential Prayer; Psalms 151–155; Psalms, Book of; Ruth, Book of; Samuel, Books of.

Dead Sea Scrolls Since their modern discovery (1947–1956), the Dead Sea Scrolls have comprised the most significant new literary evidence for understanding early Judaism. Written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek, the Scrolls emerged from eleven caves that range along a north-south axis surrounding Khirbet Qumran, an archaeological site overlooking the northwest coast of the Dead Sea (de Vaux 1973; 190

Dead Sea Scrolls

Figure 4.43  The Caves of Qumran.

Magness 2006; Figure 4.43). The Scrolls preserve some 800–900 ancient manuscripts, dating from ca. 250 bce to 68 ce. One of the first Scrolls discovered, the Rule of the Community (1QS), revealed the profile of a Jewish “community” (‫יחד‬, Yaḥad) with an initiatory process, strict disciplinary structures, and a dualistic-apocalyptic theology. The community further envisioned itself as fulfilling the prophetic vocation of Isaiah 40:3 to “prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness” (1QS viii 1–14). Scholars have traditionally identified the Dead Sea Scrolls as the literary collection of this religious movement that sought to live out its interpretation of the Torah within the spatial realm of the Judean wilderness (cf. the overview in Collins 2013: 33–66). However, the precise relation of many of the writings to the community associated with Qumran is debated (e.g. García Martínez 2016). “Scriptural” Manuscripts. Given the enormity of the collection, there are various ways of categorizing the Scrolls. Approximately 25% represent “biblical” manuscripts, copies of books that would feature in the later Jewish canon of Scripture. These manuscripts constitute some of the earliest surviving copies of scriptural books. The most frequently attested manuscripts resemble the “Masoretic” text, the official version of scriptural books in later Judaism. Yet other

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manuscripts resemble the Samaritan Pentateuch and the Septuagint. A “plurality” of textual versions, therefore, is preserved among the Scrolls (Tov 2001; Ulrich 2015). Portions of every book in the later Jewish canon (with the possible exception of Esther) are attested; yet alongside these books stand equally numerous copies of Jubilees and portions of 1 Enoch, which were probably regarded as also having scripture-like status for this community. Scripture is also preserved in modified forms. Brief anthologies (Testimonia [4Q175], Tanḥumim/Consolations [4Q176]) edit selected citations that explore common themes. “Rewritten scriptures,” which suggest a certain vitality in the formation of sacred tradition, rephrase continuous portions of scriptural books, while also subtly interweaving a given author’s own interpretive traditions (Reworked Pentateuch [4Q158, 4Q364, 4Q365], Apocryphon of Joshua [4Q378, 4Q379, 4Q522], Pseudo-Ezekiel [4Q385, 4Q385b, 4Q385c, 4Q386, 4Q388, 4Q391). The Scrolls, thus, enlarge modern awareness of the complex shapes that “Scripture” could take within early Judaism. “Non-Biblical” Manuscripts.  The remaining “non-biblical” Scrolls include a variety of diverse compositions. The term “sectarian” is sometimes used to define writings like the Rule of the Community (1QS, 4Q255–264, 5Q11) that most likely reveal the distinctive identity, practices, and beliefs of the community of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Major “sectarian” documents also include the Damascus Document (4Q266–273, 5Q12, 6Q15, CD), War Scroll (1QM, 4Q490–497), Hodayot (1QHa, 4Q427–433), pesharim (e.g. 1QpHab, 1Q14–15, 4Q161–164, 4Q167–171, 4Q173), and halakic Letter (4QMMT [4Q394–399]), writings that illustrate the community’s intentional separation from other Jews. The Damascus Document and pesharim reference the “Righteous Teacher,” a charismatically endowed interpreter of law and prophecy, who clashed with the Temple priesthood and exerted a formative influence upon the community. Alongside “sectarian” literature, however, the community also collected many “nonsectarian” writings that were probably not composed by its members. Together, the two categories suggest that the Scrolls preserve the core ideology of a sectarian religious movement that was also complemented by early Jewish traditions from broader settings. The non-biblical Dead Sea Scrolls may be further categorized by their literary characteristics and subject matter. Rules and Legal Writings. Written upon the outside of the Rule of the Community from Cave 1 (1QS), the term Serek (“rule”) designates a type of literature dedicated to communal disciplines (Metso 2007; Hempel 2013). The rules address differing contexts. The Rule of the Community concerns the present time of affliction, as the Yaḥad endures a dualistic conflict between truth and falsehood, light and darkness, as suggested by the integration of the Two Spirits Treatise (1QS iii 13–iv 26) into the Rule of the Community. Within this conflicted cosmos, the Yaḥad fulfills its vocation by atoning for the land, a role traditionally fulfilled by the Temple cult, yet now realized within the community’s uncompromising pursuit of the Torah (1QS viii 3–10, ix 3–6). Preserved within the same scroll, the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa) and the Rule of Blessings (1QSb) anticipate practices for the future time of redemption. The Damascus Document and War Scroll offer additional specimens. Taken together, the rules, as well as their variant manuscripts, may reveal the diverse norms that informed the community’s practices throughout their historical development. A proliferation of legal texts, like the halakic Letter and the Temple Scroll (11Q19–20, 4Q524), although not containing the Yaḥad-specific language found in other compositions, also vividly illustrate the importance of legal interpretation for the community’s identity and self-definition (e.g. Stegemann 1998: 104–17). 192

Dead Sea Scrolls

Psalms, Hymns, and Prayers. The Scrolls provide some of the most sophisticated liturgical compositions within early Judaism (Nitzan 1994; Falk 1998; Penner 2012). In the Thanksgiving Hymns (Hodayot), worshipers bless the deity with the typical introduction, “I thank you, O Lord, because … .” The rationale for thanksgiving ranges from personal redemption from enemies to the attainment of eschatological life and the mysteries of divine revelation. In the Angelic Liturgy (Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice: 4Q400–407, 11Q17, Masada ShirShabb), a collection of hymns is cosmically sequenced with the offering of the Sabbath sacrifice, as earthly worship coincides with heavenly worship. The belief that worship transpires within the presence of angelic beings of transcendent holiness is also expressed within the Rule of the Community, where God “has joined their assembly to the Sons of Heaven” (1QS xi 8), as though heaven and earth have merged within the community’s exclusively pure worship. Wisdom and Apocalyptic Writings. The vitality of wisdom and apocalyptic traditions is also evident among the Scrolls (Goff 2007). Previously unknown sapiential works, like the Book of Mysteries (1Q27, 4Q299–301) and 4QInstruction (4Q415–418, 4Q423), explore a vast range of subjects, including creation and eschatology, as they pursue “the mystery that is yet to be.” Among apocalyptic texts, Daniel (1Q71–72, 4Q112–116, 6Q7) and portions of 1 Enoch (1Q19a–b?, 4Q201–212) received an early and enthusiastic reception (Collins 1997). Previously unknown writings like New Jerusalem (1Q32, 2Q24, 4Q232, 4Q554–555, 5Q15, 11Q18), Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521), and Aramaic Apocalypse (4Q246) provide important evidence for the diversity of apocalyptic thought in early Judaism. The wisdom and apocalyptic traditions represented among the Scrolls exhibit a convergence between the two conceptual orientations. The revelation of heavenly wisdom was a cherished apocalyptic ideal, and the pursuit of wisdom also envisioned a future eschatological consummation. Contributions.  The contributions of the Dead Sea Scrolls to the understanding of Second Temple Judaism are vast and still emerging (e.g. VanderKam 2010: 197–226). Since many of them attest a community that opposed the Temple priests and the emerging Pharisaic-rabbinic movement, they demand an unprecedented recognition of the diversity of early Jewish religion and theology. This recognition is only further magnified by the internal diversity inherent even among the Scrolls themselves. The Scrolls further demonstrate the extent to which the theologies among followers of the Jesus movement and in writings of the New Testament were not ex nihilo creations but rather arose as intensive reinterpretations of traditions that had their own developed histories in earlier and contemporary Judaism.

Bibliography J. J. Collins, The “Dead Sea Scrolls”: A Biography. Lives of Great Religious Books (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013). F. García Martínez, “The Contents of the Manuscripts from the Caves of Qumran,” in The Caves of Qumran, ed. M. Fidanzio, STDJ 118 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 67–79. CASEY D. ELLEDGE

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Canon and Canonical Process; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Essenes; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; High Priests; Jubilees, Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Priesthood; Sectarianism.

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Death and Afterlife

Death and Afterlife Within the Hellenistic and Roman eras Judaism explored a range of diverse conceptions regarding death and the afterlife. Postexilic Judaism developed in an environment in which it was the heir and creative interpreter of both ancient Israelite and other Near Eastern and Mediterranean conceptions of death (Obayashi 1992; Segal 2004). Scriptural traditions exhibit an ambivalence on the issue, attesting both denials of any meaningful afterlife (Qoh 3:2, 20–21; 6:6; 9:1–10; 12:7; Job 14:7–12), as well as professions of hope in the deity’s ultimate power to revive the dead (Isa 24–27, 65–66; Ezek 37:1–14). Even as early Judaism continued to be shaped by this unresolved ambivalence, it also reinterpreted the question within an increasingly broad intellectual arena. Zoroastrian and Egyptian conceptions presented the most optimistic hopes for a blessed existence after death; Canaanite and Mesopotamian traditions maintained greater reserve on the possibility. Increasing exposure to Hellenistic philosophy also presented the opportunity to express Jewish attitudes in explicitly philosophical categories. Particular schools developed teachings on the afterlife, as Josephus reports among Pharisees (J.W. 2.163; Ant. 18.14), Sadducees (J.W. 2.165; Ant. 18.16), and Essenes (J.W. 2.151–158; Ant. 18.18). Such reports likely reflect the extent to which attitudes toward death became crucial to particular expressions of theodicy among competing religious movements. Resurrection emerged as the belief that would hold the strongest reception within PharisaicRabbinic tradition and early Christianity (e.g. Levenson 2006). The hope is also well attested across writings that probably derived from different sectors of early Judaism (see Resurrection). Yet resurrection ultimately remained only one way of envisioning the future destiny of the human. In both literary and inscriptional evidence emphasizing the finality of death, afterlife denial remained a compelling view for many Jews (Horbury and Noy 1992: nos. 23, 32–33, 93; Park 2000: 47–86). Belief in the immortality of the soul also offered an afterlife conception that did not depend so heavily upon the literal, eschatological presuppositions of resurrection. A survey of the extant evidence indicates that reflection on death and the afterlife constituted a flourishing and frequently controverted topic in early Judaism. “Denial” of an afterlife remained strong even beyond the more narrow aristocratic party of the Sadducees, which is the school most frequently associated with this position (Josephus, J.W. 2.165, Ant. 18.16; Mark 12:18–27 par.; Acts 23:6–10; Hippolytus, Haer. 9.24). The term “denial,” however, inadequately represents this point of view. As articulated by Ben Sira, so-called afterlife denial strongly affirmed the sufficiency of divine justice within the present world. The sage regards the moment of death as the “end” in which the deity’s judgment is fully revealed: “Those who fear the Lord will have a happy end; on the day of their death they will be blessed” (Sir 1:13; NRSV). At death, the temporary union of body and spirit dissolves as the body returns to the earth and the spirit returns to God who gave it (Sir 40:11). The dead remain somehow existent within Sheol forever, yet lacking the vitality and joy of the living (14:6–11). This structure of human life is immutable, as death comprises an “everlasting statute,” a “perpetual decree” within the creation (14:17; NRSV). Rather than everlasting life, the rewards of a life well lived include the “symbolic immortalities” (Burkes 2003) of progeny (30:4–5), renown, wealth, and cultural memory (44:11, 14). What is truly enduring is not one’s own life but ultimately Israel itself throughout the ages (37:25). Thus, while death had sometimes raised problems concerning divine justice in earlier wisdom (Qoh 9:1–10), Ben Sira interprets it as an unfailing instrument of

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Death and Afterlife

justice. The finality of death and the absence of afterlife resonate well with cultural attitudes that are accessible in Jewish funerary inscriptions of the Hellenistic and Roman eras (Horbury and Noy 1992; van der Horst 1991). As Ben Sira’s wisdom discouraged hope in the afterlife, other wisdoms pursued different approaches, as illustrated in Philo of Alexandria and the Wisdom of Solomon. Philo’s positive affirmation of the immortality of the soul spans his works and exhibits further integration of Stoic, Platonic, and Aristotelian categories, which are used with considerable flexibility (Dillon 1977). Immortality will be the destiny of the noetic property of virtuous souls, which the deity transforms at death into an everlasting existence beyond the passions of bodily life. This is the destiny of Abraham (Sacr. 5–9) and Moses (Mos. 2.288), whose scriptural narratives provide a paradigm for the immortalization of virtuous souls. Wicked souls that pursue the passions, however, simply dissipate into non-existence at death (Gig. 13–14). Writing within the same Egyptian Jewish environment, the Wisdom of Solomon reveals the extent to which the immortality of the soul was reinterpreted by Jewish authors as essential to the affirmation of divine justice (Wis 1:1–5:23). The handful of Jewish funerary inscriptions from Greco-Roman Egypt that reference afterlife also frequently communicate their beliefs in the language of the soul’s immortal flight to join the ancestors of ages past (Horbury and Noy 1992). Elsewhere in Jewish literature immortality could complement belief in an eschatological resurrection, as in the writings of Josephus (J.W. 2.152–154, 163; 3.372–374; Ant. 18.14) and the Sentences of Pseudo-Phocylides (99–115). Yet in some cases, immortality could be preferred above resurrection, as 4 Maccabees demonstrates in its corrective stance toward its literary forebear, 2 Maccabees (on these texts, see Elledge 2006: 51–145). In yet another variation the Thanksgiving Hymns reveal how the journey from death to everlasting life was expressed as a presently realized state of consciousness within the community of the Dead Sea Scrolls (1QHa xi 20–23; x 22–32; xix 13–17). Evidence for denial, resurrection, and immortality, thus, suggests that reflection on death and the afterlife was robust within the Second Temple era, generating a spectrum of diverse expressions. Intellectual circles within a variegated Judaism pursued their own interpretations of death, which gradually contributed to sectarianism and self-definition among competing groups (Setzer 2004). Believers in a positive afterlife sometimes polemicized against deniers (1 En. 102:6–8, Wis 2:1–9), accusing their opponents of immorality, ignorance of scripture, and denial of God’s power to save the dead (b. Sanh. 90a–92b; cf. 1 Cor 15:30–34, Mark 12:24). In this sense, the edifice of much larger theological claims came to rest upon particular assumptions about the afterlife.

Bibliography S. Burkes, God, Self, and Death: The Shape of Religious Transformation in the Second Temple Period, JSJSup 79 (Leiden: Brill, 2003). J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977). C. D. Elledge, Life after Death in Early Judaism: The Evidence of Josephus, WUNT 2.208 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). P. W. van der Horst, Ancient Jewish Epitaphs: An Introductory Survey of a Millennium of Jewish Funerary Epigraphy (300 BCE–700 CE), CBET 2 (Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1991).

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J. D. Levenson, Resurrection and the Restoration of Israel: The Ultimate Victory of the God of Life (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006). H. Obayashi, ed. Death and Afterlife: Perspectives of World Religions, CSR 33 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1992). J. Park, Conceptions of Afterlife in Jewish Inscriptions: With Special Reference to Pauline Literature, WUNT 121 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). A. Segal, Life after Death: A History of the Afterlife in the Religions of the West (New York: Doubleday, 2004). C. Setzer, Resurrection of the Body in Early Judaism and Early Christianity: Doctrine, Community, and Self-Definition (Leiden: Brill, 2004). CASEY D. ELLEDGE

Related entries: Burial Practices; Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim); Cemeteries (Bethshean); Cemeteries (Qumran); Egypt; Eschatology; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Isaiah, Book of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Fourth Book of; Ossuaries; Righteousness and Justice.

Decalogue The Decalogue is more well-known as the Ten Commandments. In the Hebrew Bible, it is called ‫( עשרת הדברים‬ʿśrt hdbrym; Exod 34:28; Deut 4:13; 10:4), which literally means “the ten words,” while in rabbinic texts the form is ‫( עשרת הדברות‬ʿśrt hdbrwt). The Decalogue occurs twice in the Pentateuch in a similar format (Exod 20; Deut 5), but a number of the “commandments” appear in different formats in other parts of the Pentateuch (e.g. Exod 23:1, 25; 34:14; Lev 19:2–4, 11–19) and some of the commandments are quoted in the prophets (Jer 7:8–9; Hos 4:2). The collection of divine laws or commandments was known in the ancient world, as indicated by lists of such ordinances inscribed on stone tablets or on walls of tombs found from the Bronze and Iron Ages in Babylonia and Egypt. The counting of the “ten” commandments in the Hebrew Bible is complicated by the versions preserved in different texts. For example, what some interpreters regard as the first commandment, in Exodus 20:2 and Deuteronomy 5:6, is a statement rather than an ordinance: “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the Land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.” It was, however, theologically interpreted, especially during and after the Second Temple period, as a commandment to “believe” in God. By the 1st century ce, both the Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria (in On the Decalogue) and the Jewish historian Josephus (Ant. 3.101) regard this statement as only a preamble, so that the first commandment is actually, “You shall not have any gods before me” (Freund 1998: 131–38; see Tov 2008: 32). Both Philo and Josephus held to a fixed notion of “ten” commandments that could be numerically ordered and that provide a foundational framework for all other Mosaic ordinances (e.g. Philo, Decal. 6; Josephus, Ant. 3.91–92, 94). When the Hebrew Scriptures were translated into Greek during the 3rd and 2nd centuries bce, more changes in sequence and organization took place—especially in the sixth through eighth commands (cf. White Crawford 1990: 202–3)—such as the command not to commit adultery coming sixth in the list rather than seventh, as in the Hebrew (cf. Exod 20:13 LXX with 20:14 MT). This, in addition to evidence also available in Hebrew manuscripts (see below), suggests that the commandments had begun to transcend the forms they initially assumed in their pentateuchal context. In the oldest manuscript exemplars from the Nash Papyrus, thought to have been prepared in the 2nd century bce and in the 1st century bce Dead Sea Scrolls, it is possible to recognize

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the importance ascribed to the Ten Commandments during the Second Temple period. In 4QDeuteronomyn (=4Q41), copied in the 1st century bce, two passages from the Book of Deuteronomy demonstrate that the Ten Commandments had apparently become a liturgical favorite for Jews in this period. The two sheets contain Deuteronomy 8:5–10 and Deuteronomy 5:1–6:1. Although the scroll was originally longer, the unusual ordering of the texts suggests that it probably was not a regular biblical scroll; rather it shows how the Ten Commandments were used. The text of the Decalogue therein generally follows Deuteronomy, but is in some places modified to bring it in harmony with the parallel version in Exodus. One significant variant, unique to this manuscript, is the addition and combination of two different reasons for the institution of the Sabbath, one from Deuteronomy and one from Exodus (White Crawford 1990: 206). As for the Nash Papyrus, it preserves lectionary-type evidence for a Second Temple practice of reading the Ten Commandments daily (cf. Martin 2010: 231–48), which is consistent with the later Mishnah mention of a practice of reciting the Ten Commandments before reading the liturgical formula of the “Shema Israel” (Deut 6:4; m. Tam. 5:1). In the Nash Papyrus, the text of the Ten Commandments combines parts of the version from Exodus 20:2–17 with parts from Deuteronomy 5:6–21. A curiosity is its omission of the phrase “out of the house of bondage,” a reference to Egypt that appears in both Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5. This omission perhaps reflects where the papyrus was composed, i.e., in Egypt, so that the copyist did not want to repeat negative statements about the immediate environs in the liturgy. It is thus clear that the text of the Ten Commandments was being used as a vehicle to interpret and expand the divine ordinances in new and often unexpected ways. The Samaritan text of the Ten Commandments, e.g., adds a commandment to build a temple at Gerizim in their book of Exodus Decalogue (Tov 2008: 60). The New Testament contains multiple (and incomplete) citations of the Ten Commandments (Mark 10:19 pars. Matt 19:18–19, Luke 18:20), cited according to the Septuagintal order, which have been combined with the biblical statement to “love your neighbor as yourself ” (Lev 19:18), which in the Jesus tradition is also regarded as one of the two greatest commandments (Mark 12:33 pars. Matt 22:38–39, Luke 10:27; cf. also Gal 5:14 and James 2:8). Paul’s use of several of the Ten Commandments in the Epistle to the Romans 13:9 follows the sequence in the Septuagint (cf. the sequences in 1 Tim 1:9–11; James 2:11). By the 2nd century, as in the Didache (2:1–3), it is clear that the Ten Commandments are being used as a summarizing ethical code into which new commandments are introduced that relate, e.g., to magic, witchcraft, and pederasty (cf. 2:4–3:10; Freund 1998: 133–34).

Bibliography R. A. Freund, “The Decalogue in Early Judaism and Christianity,” in The Function of Scripture in Early Jewish and Christian Tradition, ed. C. A. Evans and J. A. Sanders, LNTS 154 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 124–41. G. D. Martin, Multiple Originals: New Approaches to Hebrew Bible Textual Criticism, TCS 7 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2010). W. L. Moran, “The Conclusion of the Decalogue,” CBQ 29 (1967): 543–54. S. White Crawford, “The All Souls Deuteronomy and the Decalogue,” JBL 109 (1990): 193–206. RICHARD A. FREUND

Related entries: Covenant; Exodus, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Moses; Reworked Pentateuch (4QRP); Sinai, Mount; Samaritan Pentateuch.

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Decapolis

Decapolis The Greek designation “Dekapolis” (Δεκάπολις, “ten cities”) refers to a geographical region— and a group of major cities within that territory—located to the east and south of the Sea of Galilee (see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). Ruins of these Greco-Roman cities are found within the modern borders of Jordan, Syria, and Israel. This area’s “complex political map” (Millar 1993: 39) served as a background for significant events in Near Eastern history. In 64–63 bce, Pompey liberated these towns from Jewish Hasmonean or Nabatean Arab control. Many of these cities claimed Greek or Hellenistic foundations, though some were much older. The Decapolis population included gentiles and Jews. For much of their history, these towns fell within an administrative unit of Roman Syria, though they remained semi-autonomous (cf. Josephus, Ant. 14.74–76; J.W. 1.155–156). The most informative ancient source on the Decapolis, Pliny the Elder’s Natural History (5.16.74), mentions ten cities, plus several related details: Damascus, Philadelphia, Raphana, Scythopolis, Gadara, Hippos, Dion, Pella, Gerasa, and Canatha. Pliny used the term regio to describe the Decapolis. The distance from Damascus, the northernmost member on the list, to Philadelphia (modern Amman), the southernmost city, is ca. 110 miles. This district extended ca. 40 miles from west to east, from the Jordan Rift to the Syrian Desert. Scythopolis (ancient Bethshean/Beisan) was the only Decapolis settlement located west of the Jordan River; it sat beside the strategic intersection of the Jezreel Valley and the Jordan Valley. In his Geography (5.14.22), Ptolemy provided another list of Decapolis settlements. He mentioned Pliny’s ten place-names (except Raphana) and added nine more—including Heliopolis (Baalbek) and Capitolias (Beit Ras). Even Pliny had observed that there was no unanimity on this list! The identification of several Decapolis cities remains problematic (esp. with regard to Ptolemy’s additional names), but scholars have located most with certainty. In cultural terms, these cities existed as something like a Greek (or Hellenistic) island in a larger sea of the Near East’s Semitic population (Kennedy 2007). There is no direct evidence that the cities ever formed an official league (Parker 1975). Instead, they shared a common affinity for Hellenistic culture—in terms of city planning, monumental architecture, art, coinage, language, learning, entertainment, and religions (Lichtenberger 2003). The Decapolis produced several well-known philosophers, poets, and rhetoricians. During the 1st century bce, Meleager, a poet who resided in Gadara, one of the most sophisticated Decapolis cities, referred to his home as “Attica in the land of the Assyrians.” Ancient literary references to the Decapolis itself appear in a small number of sources, and then only briefly (so the Synoptic Gospels, Pliny the Elder, Josephus, Ptolemy of Alexandria, Eusebius, Jerome, Epiphanius, and Stephanus of Byzantium). These references, which date from the 1st until the 6th centuries ce, provide little specific information about this region and often raise more questions than they answer. In contrast, the extensive archaeological research at individual sites in this territory has provided a wealth of insights into the relatively urbane way of life that existed there. The Gospels of Matthew and Mark mention the Decapolis by name (Matt 4:25; Mark 5:20; 7:31); Mark 7:31 refers to the Decapolis as χωρίον (chōrion, Greek for “region” or “district”). These Synoptic passages refer to Jesus’ ministry in territories east of the Jordan River and mention that Decapolis residents followed him. In a well-known example of textual variants, the Gospels

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also mention an exorcism in Gadara, Gerasa, or Gergesa (Matt 8:28; Mark 5:1; Luke 8:26); the first two cities were located in the Decapolis. When the First Jewish War broke out, Jewish insurgents created havoc in some Decapolis cities. Leading citizens from these towns appealed to Vespasian for help, and both the Romans and residents of certain Decapolis cities massacred Jews in this region. Vespasian even used Scythopolis as a base of operations during the war. After Trajan created the province of Arabia in 106 ce, some cities of the Decapolis fell under the administrative control of Roman Syria, Judea, or Arabia.

Bibliography D. Kennedy, Gerasa and the Decapolis: A “Virtual Island” in Northwest Jordan (London: Duckworth, 2007). A. Lichtenberger, Kulte und Kultur der Dekapolis: Untersuchungen zu numismatischen, archäologischen und epigraphischen Zeugnissen (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003). F. Millar, The Roman Near East 31 BC–AD 337 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993). S. T. Parker, “The Decapolis Reviewed.” JBL 94 (1975): 437–41. GERALD L. MATTINGLY

Related entries: Hellenism and Hellenization; Mark, Gospel of; Matthew, Gospel of; Revolt, First Jewish; Romanization.

Demons and Exorcism Although there is some mention of demonic beings in the Hebrew Bible, they are frequently mentioned in Second Temple period literature, with two main origin stories. The first is found in the story of the Watchers in the Enochic material (1 En. 1–36), an early 3rd century bce interpretation of Genesis 6:1–4. In 1 Enoch 15 the author states that the Watcher angels (spiritual beings) crossed the line of their heavenly existence and became part of the fleshly world (15:7), an act of rebellion. By procreating with women, the fallen angels formed an unauthorized hybrid being, a mingling of the divine nature of angels and the flesh of humans. In 1 Enoch 15:8 and 9, the author asserts these new creatures “will be called evil spirits” (later synonymous with demons) and these beings are perceived as a threat to humanity (15:11). The emergence of the evil spirits from the Watcher tradition and the number of references in other early Jewish literature demonstrate that evil spirits/demons had taken up a dominant place in the theological worldview of at least some strands of Second Temple Judaism. The second origin account suggests God created evil spirits during the primeval era (the six days of creation), a concept principally attested in the Qumran dualistic worldview found in the Community Rule (1QS iii 13–iv 26), the War Scroll (1QM xiii), and other Dead Sea Scrolls. A similar divine creation of evil spirits is observed in Pseudo-Philo’s Biblical Antiquities (LAB) 60. Many texts attest to the widespread belief in the presence of evil spirits and the implicit need for protection from them and contain various rituals and earnest prayers used by the exorcist. Hymns or prayers intended to protect against demons fall into the category of apotropaic. These apotropaic texts, many found in some of the Dead Sea Scrolls as well as biblical and extrabiblical psalms, contain charms and spells or prayers and hymns (usually attributed to David—see LAB 60 in which David plays the lyre in order to exorcise demons from Saul; or Solomon—see Josephus, Ant. 8.42–47) addressed to God in an effort to protect individuals from the oppression of evil 199

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spirits/demons (e.g. 11QPsa xix, xxiv; 1QHa frag. 4; 4Q444; 4Q510; 4Q511). These apotropaic prayers are thought to have been used by the Qumran Community’s Maskil to reassure the faithful that God would subdue these spiritual enemies. In a similar vein, incantation prayers are found in at least three texts of the Dead Sea Scrolls: 4Q560, 11Q11, and 8Q5. Incantation prayers directly address the evil spirit or spirits in the form of a command or adjuration. The authority invoked against the spirits is no less than the name of YHWH; the individual speaking the prayer or hymn generally uses the phrase translated “I adjure you” (4Q560 ii 6). In addition to these allusions to exorcism in the Scrolls, Josephus speaks of a Jewish exorcist in Jewish Antiquities 8.46–49 named Eleazar. Josephus mentions Eleazar in his discussion of the exorcistic powers of King Solomon, with which the ruler composed various incantations to release people from the affliction of evil spirits. Eleazar is said to have vanquished evil spirits (demons) in the presence of Emperor Vespasian, his sons, and a multitude of his armies. Eleazar performed these exorcisms using a ring in the same fashion used by Solomon, placing it under the nostrils of the possessed/oppressed individual and extracting the demon through the nostrils; at this time Eleazar would speak the name of Solomon and recite the incantations that Solomon had composed. The primary collection of Second Temple texts that contain material concerning demons and exorcism are the New Testament Gospels. The evangelists used two primary designations in parallel with daimonion (δαιμόνιον), namely “evil spirit” (πνεῦμα πονηρόν, pneuma ponēron) and “unclean spirit” (πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον, pneuma akatharton). The term “evil spirit” is used on three occasions in the Gospels (Matt 12:45; Luke 7:21; 11:26); in addition, it is used to clarify the term demon in Luke 8:2: “As well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out.” The phrase “unclean spirit” is also equated with “demon” on several occasions: Mark 7:26; 5:12; Luke 4:33 (spirit of an unclean demon); 8:28; and 9:38, 42. Although Matthew’s Gospel does not draw the comparison between demon and “unclean spirit,” the author does parallel “unclean spirit” and “evil spirit” in 19:43–45, in which the “unclean spirit” departs from a person and returns with seven other spirits more evil than itself. The Gospels also contain an apparent upsurge in “demonic possession” or “affliction” as compared to earlier Second Temple literature. The concept of possession is assumed based upon the language used—the demon “entered into” (εἰσῆλθεν, eisēlthen) the individual who was being tormented/demonized (δαιμονισθείς, daimonistheis). However, the more convincing evidence for possession is the exorcistic language used by the authors when the demon or unclean spirit is rebuked and told to leave the individual—“come out” (ἔξελθε, exelthe).

Bibliography P. S. Alexander, “Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years (2000), 331–53. T. R. Hanneken, “Angels and Demons in the Book of Jubilees and Contemporary Apocalypses,” Hen (2006): 11–25. G. J. Riley, “Demon,” in Dictionary of Deities and Demons (1999), 235–40. G. H. Twelftree, In the Name of Jesus: Exorcism among Early Christians (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007). A. T. Wright, The Origin of Evil Spirits (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2015). ARCHIE T. WRIGHT

Related entries: Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Fallen Angels; Genesis, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Magic and Divination; Magic Incantations and Bowls; Magical Papyri, Jewish. 200

Determinism

Determinism The term “determinism” has been applied to some Second Temple Jewish traditions that emphasize, to one degree or another, that events and actions are directed or pre-determined by God rather than by human will (Tukasi 2008: 1–29). When Philo of Alexandria describes major features of the Jewish concept of God, he states that in the Jewish view, “God exercises a continual care for that which he has created” (Opif. 172). God is deeply involved in the history of humankind and has the authority to influence or modify the events of history. The way in which such involvement did not undermine human freedom was a matter of debate among different Jewish groups and theologies. Josephus puts forth the relation between fate and human free will as the major way to distinguish between the Jewish schools of “Sadducees,” “Pharisees,” and “Essenes” (J.W. 2.162–166; Ant 13.171–173). Extant literary sources from the Second Temple period confirm that there was indeed a lively debate on this issue (Maier 1971). The idea of covenant implies that God will reward and punish individuals and nations, determining their future destiny, sometimes establishing “times” of punishments or reward. In this sense God’s action is not seen in opposition to human freedom but rather as a necessary response to human responsibility; God’s authority would be undermined, and human choice nullified, if God did not have the power to fulfill and carry out God’s promises and threats. As the rabbis would later stress, “All is foreseen and choice is granted. The world is judged by grace; and everything is according to work” (m. ’Abot 3:15). Along different lines, sapiential (wisdom) traditions would stress the absolute sovereignty and freedom of God, who is able to pursue God’s goals that can turn everything (including evil) into good. Though human freedom cannot ultimately challenge or modify God’s plans, human free will is exalted (Sir 15:11–20) and humans are reminded that true happiness comes from freely adjusting to God’s times and ways (Wicke-Reuter 2000: 106–42). Similarly, Philo argues against astral fatalism (Prov. 1.77–88); he emphasizes human freedom of choice (Conf. 178–179) while stressing the omnipotent power of God’s providence (Frick 1999). Determinism is emphasized most often in apocalyptic traditions (Sacchi 1996: 35–47). Their stress on the power of evil might seem to limit the authority of God over human history, which is rather seen as the unfolding of demonic forces. However, such an emphasis requires that at least in its final outcome the opposition between good and evil will be ultimately resolved with the triumph of good. For instance, the Book of Watchers not only acknowledges the present corruption of God’s creative order but also promises that order and peace will be restored after a period of “70 generations” at the time of the final judgment (1 En. 10:12). For apocalyptic groups, the crisis of the Maccabean revolt in the 160s bce was a turning point. As the present was seen as a time of growing evil and suffering, it became necessary to stress that, however disturbing, the disorder of evil is to be understood and interpreted within an even larger framework of goodness. In the Book of Daniel (ch. 9) “the 70 weeks of years,” in particular the last week, consist of a long, tragic, and yet clearly defined time of punishment during which the evil forces have been unleashed; in the imminent future, however, they will be defeated with the reestablishment of the liberty of Israel and God’s authority on earth (Boccaccini 1992). Similarly, in the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 85–90) in the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 En. 93:1–10 + 91:11–17) and in the Book of Jubilees the preordained framework is superimposed onto the entire course of history, from creation to the end of times, so that everything unfolds in the appointed times with

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rigorous precision (Collins 2016: 53–142). This predetermination of history, in turn, furnished confidence that the anticipated victory of good will certainly come about. The most radical deterministic position is expressed in some so-called “sectarian” texts of Qumran (1QS xi 10–11, 17–18; CD A ii 2–10; 1QHa vii 15–28) or even the Two Spirits Treatise (1QS iii 13–iv 26), which seem to include a concern with the destiny of individuals. However, it does not seem that even these strongest expressions of fatalistic thought should be read as a complete denial of individual free will (Lange 1995). Later apocalyptic writings (including early Christian texts), while reiterating that history unfolds according to a preordained framework until the end of time, would bounce back from a much-too-specific narrative of events and times. The language of predestination, even when preordained numbers of the saved are indicated (e.g. 4 Ezra 4:36; Rom 11:25; Rev 6:11; 7:4), focuses less on single individuals and more on categories of people such as “the poor” versus “the rich,” “the sons of light” versus “the sons of darkness,” and “the chosen ones” versus “the rejected.” Texts written in the aftermath of the destruction of Jerusalem, like 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch, and the Revelation of John, though retaining many elements from earlier apocalyptic texts, also refrain from providing a strict periodization of events (Dimant 2013). The balance between God’s determinism and human freedom in the Second Temple period ultimately depends on the different emphases that various Jewish groups and texts gave to the power of evil in this world. The more this world appeared to be out of God’s control, the more they stressed that, nonetheless, everything happens according to a preordained divine plan. On the other hand, the more God’s authority in this world was reaffirmed, the less urgently they felt compelled to provide a preordained periodization of events.

Bibliography G. Boccaccini, Roots of Rabbinic Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992). D. Dimant, “4 Ezra and 2 Baruch in Light of Qumran Literature,” Fourth Ezra and Second Baruch (2013), 31–62. P. Frick, Divine Providence in Philo of Alexandria, TSAJ 77 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999). A. Lange, Weisheit und Prädestination, STDJ 18 (Leiden: Brill, 1995). G. Maier, Mensch und freier Wille nach den jüdischen Religions-parteien zwischen Ben Sira und Paulus, WUNT 12 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971). E. H. Merrill, Qumran and Predestination: A Theological Study of the Thanksgiving Hymns, JSJSup 7 (Leiden: Brill, 1975). P. Sacchi, Jewish Apocalyptic and Its History, JSPSup 20 (London: T&T Clark, 1996). E. O. Tukasi, Determinism and Petitionary Prayer in John and the Dead Sea Scrolls, LSTS 66 (London: T&T Clark, 2008). U. Wicke-Reuter, Göttliche Providenz und menschliche Verantwortung bei Ben Sira und in der frühen Stoa, BZAW 298 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2000). GABRIELE BOCCACCINI

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Baruch, Second Book of; Eschatology; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Righteousness and Justice; Sectarianism.

Deuteronomistic History The concept of a “Deuteronomistic History” is a hypothesis proposed by the German scholar Martin Noth in 1943 (Noth 1967, 1991). He claimed that the Book of Deuteronomy is related 202

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much more closely to the books of the Former Prophets (Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings) than was previously thought. Since these books contain many passages similar in style and theology to the book of Deuteronomy, he considered the latter to have been originally conceived as an introduction to the books that narrate the history of the conquest (Joshua), the intermediate time between the conquest and the monarchy (Judges), the beginnings of the monarchy (1–2 Samuel), and the history of the two kingdoms of Israel and Judah until the fall of Samaria and Jerusalem (1–2 Kings). For Noth, the compilation and revision of the books running from Deuteronomy to 2 Kings form a unity in terms of content and composition. This composition, designated “Deuteronomistisches Geschichtswerk” (Deuteronomistic History) by Noth, is the work of an anonymous author or redactor whom he called the “Deuteronomist.” The Deuteronomist creates a complex tradition and conceives for the first time a thoroughgoing history of Israel and Judah from the Mosaic beginnings until the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile. The closest relatives of the Deuteronomist are those historians of Hellenistic and Roman times, who, using older and mostly anonymous narrative material, write a history not of their own time but of more or less distant times. Noth argued that the Deuteronomist wrote during the “exilic” (Babylonian) period, shortly after 560 bce, since the last event narrated in 2 Kings 25 (the release of the Judean king Jehoiachin from his Babylonian prison) can be dated to around 562 bce. This theory was well received in scholarship because for the time, it functioned as a coherent explanation for the presence of Deuteronomistic texts in the Former Prophets. However, Noth’s theory has been modified in two major ways. On the one hand, Cross (1973), followed by a large majority of North American scholarship, located the first edition of the Deuteronomistic History under the reign of Josiah (around 620 bce), claiming that this edition originally ended with Josiah’s praise in 2 Kings 23:25a. Cross noticed that chapters 24–25 in 2 Kings do not contain any major theological statements, and thus he regarded them as having been added after the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 bce. On the other hand, European research followed R. Smend (2000), who accepted Noth’s idea of an “exilic” origin of the Deuteronomistic History, but observed that the Deuteronomistic texts from Deuteronomy to Kings cannot all be attributed to a single stratum. The Deuteronomistic History should therefore be considered as multilayered; accordingly, the last “nomistic” strata are seen as belonging to the first decades of the Persian era, i.e., at the very beginning of the Second Temple period. In the last decades, the theory of a Deuteronomistic History has been increasingly criticized, especially in European scholarship. The theory’s opponents insist that the Deuteronomistic passages in the Former Prophets are extremely different from one another and cannot be assigned to one or more comprehensive edition(s). In a way, this position returns to the ideas before Noth, since these critics have been unable to provide an explanation for the existence and the aim of those Deuteronomistic texts. To summarize the current debate, Noth’s proposal that the Deuteronomistic History provides a first attempt of Judahite historiography (probably in several stages) still provides a good explanation for the Deuteronomistic revisions of the Former Prophets (Römer 2005: 13–44). Contrary to Noth, however, one should locate the so-called “exilic” edition of the Deuteronomistic History in the first decades of the Persian period (Person 2002), notwithstanding earlier (Josianic) Deuteronomistic editions, especially of the books of Joshua and Kings.

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In contrast to texts like Second Isaiah (Isa 40–55), which asks the addressees to forget the “former things” and announces a new creation and a time of salvation (Isa 43:18–21), the aim of the Deuteronomistic History is to construct a history that explains the failure of the monarchy without announcing a bright future. The aim of the Deuteronomistic History, as it stood in the beginning of the Persian period, was to produce a history that explained why monarchy failed and why it would in fact be better to integrate into the Persian Empire. Unlike 2 Chronicles, 2 Kings does not end with an exhortation to reconstruct the Temple. This could indicate that either the last redaction of Kings took place before the reconstruction of the Jerusalemite sanctuary or the Deuteronomists were not specifically concerned with it. Interestingly, Solomon’s inauguration speech in 1 Kings 8 envisages that the Temple will become a qibla of sorts for the people in exile or diaspora (1 Kgs 8:44–45). The last episode of the second book of Kings (2 Kgs 25:27–30) narrates how when the Judean king is liberated from his Babylonian prison, he changes his clothes and is given an honorific place at the Babylonian king’s table. These motifs also appear in the narratives about Joseph (Gen 37–50), Daniel (Dan 2–6), and Mordecai in the book of Esther, texts that can be labeled “diaspora novella.” Read in this light, the books of Kings and the Deuteronomistic History suggest that in the end, exile has become diaspora (Römer 2005: 175–78). The Deuteronomistic History and the editing activity of it in the Persian period (Römer 2005: 165–84) provided a tradition that persisted into the Hellenistic period. During the 3rd and 2nd centuries bce, differing accounts about Israel’s monarchic past and the role of Jews in the diaspora competed in order to come to terms with more oppressive political and socioreligious circumstances. The Deuteronomistic History would, e.g., leave its legacy in court tales—not only in the books of Daniel and Esther but also in several Dead Sea Scrolls and traditions related to the figure of Joseph in Egypt (cf. Joseph and Aseneth)—and, perhaps surprisingly, would feed into growing pessimistic sentiments among some “apocalyptic” groups that strained to retain a notion of kingship (now focused, over against the Hasmoneans, on that of God) while placing hope in an eschatological future and retaining a Jerusalem Temple ideology that did not require immediate participation in the cult. In addition, and in another significant vein, the editing activity of the Deuteronomistic History during the Persian period, which reflected an increasing need to secure sociocultural identity through the separation of Judeans from other people (cf., e.g., Ezra 9:1–3, 12), provided an ideology that generated socioreligious conditions leading to engagement with and the prominence of Torah during the centuries leading up to the turn of the Common Era.

Bibliography F. M. Cross, “The Themes of the Book of Kings and the Structure of the Deuteronomistic History,” in idem, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic. Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973), 274–89. M. Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien. Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament (1943) (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1967). ET: The Deuteronomistic History, JSOTSup 15, 2nd ed. (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991). R. F. Person Jr., The Deuteronomic School. History, Social Setting, and Literature, Studies in Biblical Literature 2 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2002). T. Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction (London: T&T Clark, 2005).

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R. Smend, “The Law and the Nations. A Contribution to Deuteronomistic Tradition History,” in Reconsidering Israel and Judah. Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History, ed. G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville, SBTS 8 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 95–110. THOMAS RÖMER

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; Daniel, Book of; Deuteronomistic Theology; Esther, Book of; Kings, Books of; Pentateuch; Samuel, Books of.

Deuteronomistic Theology Deuteronomistic theology is derived from, and therefore dependent on, the existence of a theoretical school. This hypothetical school is responsible for the Book of Deuteronomy (which becomes central in Second Temple Judaism [White Crawford 2005]) as well as for editorial additions to the historical books from Joshua to 1–2 Kings and the prophetic book of Jeremiah. Since the worldviews of the particular books differ from each other and, more importantly, from the core book of Deuteronomy, a number of scholars have questioned the unity of or even the actuality of a distinct school or guild (see Knoppers 2000). While acknowledging characteristic language and similar themes in these books, they have disputed Martin Noth’s thesis that sets forth a unified theology and ideology (Noth 2002). The challenges are noteworthy and therefore necessitate modifications to Noth’s theory; however, the shared language and style in these books betray a worldview that reflects the work of a distinguishable school. It would be unrealistic to expect complete consistency throughout the books since multiple editors compiled and edited various sources and received traditions over hundreds of years. Nevertheless, the Deuteronomistic editors are bound to a simple theology in which YHWH reveals the divine will for the people of Israel through the Torah. It is through their theological framing of the history that the reality of the Torah is demonstrated. Yet the Deuteronomist’s interpretations of the unfolding historical events tend to be based on a particular litmus test: the worship of one god, YHWH, in the unnamed but clearly understood chosen place, Jerusalem. The following seven tenets of Deuteronomistic theology cannot be described as unique or innovative; if anything they resemble other movements/trends in the Hebrew Bible and writings in the ancient Near East. Yet it is not the individual tenets but their combination, with the use of specific language, that indicates a larger worldview. First, the central theology of the Deuteronomistic school is focused on the supremacy of an exclusive deity, YHWH (Vogt 2006). While the school preserved earlier monolatrous traditions, it espouses monotheism, demanding strict loyalty from the people of Israel. Here YHWH is portrayed as a God who demands loyalty via obedience to the laws as outlined in the Torah. Second, this supreme deity establishes a covenant with the corporate, the people of Israel. While acknowledging the promise to the individual patriarchs and the miraculous liberation from Egypt, the exodus, the Deuteronomist frames the genesis of the people from the reception of the laws at Mount Horeb. The Israelites’ covenant with God marks their newfound identity: they are the elect, not because of their elite status (since they were slaves) but because of their relationship with YHWH. Third, the Torah forms the basis of this covenant between YHWH and the people. The Torah is a collection of laws that focuses on the central worship of YHWH and the prohibition of other 205

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gods. It is the standard by which God assesses the loyalty of the people. Though given in the past, the laws are constantly presented as applicable to the people in the present with the eternal “you.” It is this reference to “you” which made the laws in the book of Deuteronomy relevant to Second Temple Jews through the process of interpretation. Fourth, the Israelites have a special bond to the land, which is an indicator of divine satisfaction with the people. The land promised to the descendants of the patriarchs, which was formerly inhabited by the Canaanites, becomes the ultimate blessing for the people of Israel. If the people obey the laws of the Torah, they will receive the privilege to dwell securely in the land; if they disobey, however, they will be driven out of it. Therefore the possession of the land is a reminder not only of the covenant, the special relationship they have with YHWH, but bears testimony to Israelite obedience to the Torah. Fifth, the Deuteronomistic editors use history as a witness to the validity of the Torah. History is not so much the realm in which God acts (Magnalia Dei) but a sequence of events that attests to the reality of the blessings and curses in the book of Deuteronomy. The extent to which the editors frame and add to the existing traditions differs from book to book; they do not follow any consistent style. Nevertheless, the editors structure the events to follow a cyclical pattern in which obedience leads to peace while disobedience eventually ends to disaster. The cycles help to determine and explain the disastrous future that awaits the people of Israel evidenced in the destruction of Jerusalem. However, contrary to expectations, God seems to have plans to restore the people. Just as God rescued the people during the period of the Judges and under evil Israelite kings, God will bring the people back to the land and rebuild Jerusalem. Sixth, the restoration of the people to the land reflects the Deuteronomist’s cautious if not reluctant hope. If one follows the two stages/levels of redaction, then the initial stage is set during the exuberant reforms of Hezekiah/Josiah while the second stage would have been written in the backdrop of the ruins in Jerusalem. Since history attests to the veracity of words of the Torah, the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and the exile of the people could only be explained as the result of the people’s disobedience to God. This would dampen the hopes of the Deuteronomist’s audience, perhaps thrusting them into despair. Yet the Deuteronomist is keen on the return of the people and restoration. Though repentance would bring about restoration, history has taught the Deuteronomist that the people of Israel are, if anything, recalcitrant. Therefore the Deuteronomist’s hope for a restored future depends not so much on the possibility of the people’s repentance (Wolff 1982) but on divine compassion, God’s grace (von Rad 1966). The hope of the yet-unrealized restoration becomes a source of tension in apocalyptic literature, later developing into hope for an eschatological future. This is clearly illustrated, for instance, in allusions to Deuteronomy 28 in 1 Enoch 103:9–15, in which the realization of blessings and curses is postponed to the time of eschatological reward and judgment (104:1–8). Seventh, the Deuteronomist demonstrates a special concern for the marginalized, the poor, the widow, the fatherless, and the resident alien (gr, ‫)גר‬. While the rhetoric used to protect the most vulnerable in society reflects the ancient Near East propaganda showcasing the king, the Deuteronomist actually ties the identity of the Israelites to the marginalized. They too were slaves in the land of Egypt; therefore their destiny as the people of God is linked to protecting the weak in society. 206

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Given these tenets which have resonated within the different strands of Judaism, one could reasonably argue that the Deuteronomistic school, like the Priestly school, has greatly influenced the Jewish religion that has persisted to this day.

Bibliography G. N. Knoppers, “Is There a Future for the Deuteronomistic History?” in The Future of the Deuteronmistic History, ed. T. Römer (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 119–34. M. Noth, The Deuteronomistic History, JSOTSup 15 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002). G. von Rad, “The Deuteronomic Theology of History in I & II Kings,” in The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, trans. E. W. T. Dicken (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1966), 205–21. P. T. Vogt, Deuteronomic Theology and the Significance of the Torah: A Reappraisal (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006). S. White Crawford, “Reading Deuteronomy in the Second Temple Period,” in Reading the Present in the Qumran Library: The Perception of the Contemporary by Means of Scriptural Interpretation, ed. K. De Troyer and A. Lange, SBLSym 30 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005), 127–40. H. W. Wolff, “The Kerygma of the Deuteronomic Historical Work,” in The Vitality of Old Testament Traditions. Trans. by F. C. Prussner, ed. W. Bruegggemann and H. W. Wolff (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 83–100. SAMANTHA JOO

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; Daniel, Book of; Deuteronomistic Theology; Esther, Book of; Kings, Books of; Pentateuch; Samuel, Books of.

Diadochi The “Diadochi” (Διάδοχοι, “Successors”) are the generals of Alexander III of Macedon (the Great) who engaged in a fierce power struggle among themselves following the sudden and unexpected death of their leader in June 323 bce (see Map 3: The Diadochi [ca. 323–301 bce]). The earliest preserved application of the term as a reference to Alexander’s successors appears in Diodorus Siculus (1.3.3), but there is reason to believe that it may already have been used by contemporary or near-contemporary historians. During a protracted civil war, three main Hellenistic kingdoms gradually took shape, but at first imperial unity was maintained under the traditional Argead dynasty represented by regents. In 310 and 309 bce, however, the teenagers Alexander IV and Herakles, the last male members of the dynasty, were eliminated. Antigonos Monophthalmos was the first to take the royal title along with his son Demetrios Poliorketes (306/305 bce); the other remaining leading generals followed suit: Ptolemaios, Seleukos, Kassandros, and Lysimachos. The latter two were eliminated in the following decades, but Ptolemaios and Seleukos managed to pass on power to their sons, Ptolemaios II and Antiochos I respectively. Antigonos’ grandson Antigonos Gonatas established himself in Macedon in 276 bce, which can be considered the end of the Diadoch wars (Diodorus Siculus 18–21; Justinus 13–17; Plutarch, Eum., Phoc., Dem., Demetr.; Curtius Rufus 10; Arrian, Succ.; Appian, Syr. 52–64; Waterfield 2011; Anson 2014). The new generation of kings, however, continued the struggle for territory, power, and wealth all the same (Austin 1986). It is doubtful that anyone actually intended the Macedonian Empire to fall apart or that any specific point at which this occurred can be identified (Meeus 2013). In the new distribution of the satrapies after Alexander’s death, Syria (including Palestine) was given to Laomedon of Mytilene. The area, however, was soon seized by Ptolemaios (319–315

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then by Antigonos Monophthalmos (315–312 bce, 311–301 bce) and again by Ptolemaios and his successors (312/311 bce and 301 until ca. 200 bce). Though very little is known of the history of Palestine in this period (Grabbe 2008: 267), it seems likely that the wars of the successors affected Judea to a rather limited extent—as opposed to the experience of the coastal plain—and that the Jews lived through a relatively peaceful time (Schwartz 2014, 30). This would explain why Hieronymos of Kardia apparently never mentioned the Jews (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.213–214). However, there is record of the capture of Jerusalem by Ptolemaios in 312/311 or 302/301 bce (Josephus, Ant. 12.4–5, Ag. Ap. 1.205; Appian, Syr. 50; von Recklinghausen 2005: 149–53; Capponi 2011); Ptolemaios also deported many Jews to Egypt (Let. Aris. 4 and 12; Josephus, Ant. 12.7; cf. Ag. Ap. 1.183–189), though the numbers in the sources are greatly exaggerated (Fischer-Bovet 2014: 176). Consequently, Josephus (Ant. 12.3) judged him very negatively. In contrast, Seleukos I seems to have been remembered positively by the Jews (Den Dulk 2014). To what extent the Jews underwent a hellenization process in this period remains unclear, but there seems to have been overall continuity with the Persian period (Schwartz 2014: 29–34).

Bibliography E. M. Anson, Alexander’s Heirs. The Age of the Successors (West Sussix: Wiley Blackwell, 2014). M. M. Austin, “Hellenistic Kings, War, and the Economy,” CQ 36 (1986): 450–66. L. Capponi, “Hecataeus of Abdera and a New Conjecture in Josephus, Contra Apionem 1.189,” Histos 5 (2011): 247–65. M. Den Dulk, “Seleukos Nikator in 4 Maccabees,” JBL 133 (2014): 113–40. C. Fischer-Bovet, Army and Society in Ptolemaic Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). A. Meeus, “Confusing Aim and Result? Hindsight and the Disintegration of Alexander the Great’s Empire,” in Hindsight in Greek and Roman History, ed. A. Powell (Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales, 2013), 113–47. S. Schwartz, The Ancient Jews from Alexander to Muhammad, Key Themes in Ancient History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). D. von Recklinghausen, “Ägyptische Quellen zum Judentum,” ZÄS 132 (2005): 147–58. R. Waterfield, Dividing the Spoils: The War for Alexander the Great’s Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). ALEXANDER MEEUS

Related entries: Alexander the Great; Coele-Syria; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Ptolemies; Seleucids.

Diaspora “Diaspora,” the Greek word for “dispersion,” typically refers to the presence of Jews outside the land of Israel, especially in the Mediterranean world, during the Hellenistic and Roman eras (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). A relatively neutral term, congenial to the idea of “colonization,” it does not carry the negative connotations of the Hebrew words Galut (‫ )גלות‬or Golah (‫גולה‬, lit. “exile”) which appear in early Jewish writings. The word appears in the New Testament as both a geographic and symbolic designation (John 7:35; Jas 1:1; 1 Pet 1:1). Several early sources attest to Jews found in far-flung places throughout the Mediterranean around the turn of the Common Era (Strabo, in Josephus, Ant. 14.114–118; Philo, Legat. 282–284; Flacc.

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46; Acts 2:5–11). While more Jews seem to have lived outside the land of Israel than in it, extant sources do not always reveal how they got there. Many reasons for the dispersion of Jews outside Israel are indicated in ancient sources, including expulsions, military service, colonization, quests for economic opportunity, and the result of international trade and seafaring. Dramatic events forced some Jews from their land, including multiple deportations of Judahites to Babylon around the destruction of the First Jerusalem Temple by Nebuchadnezzar II in the late 6th century bce (Ag. Ap. 1.131–132; Ant. 10.144–150). The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 ce by the Romans took captive Jews to Rome (J.W. 7.116–117; Cassius Dio, Hist. 37.15.2–16.4; 66.4.1–6.2) Many other events resulted in the transfer of Jewish population: e.g. Jews were barred from Jerusalem in the aftermath of the Bar Kokhba revolt (Cassius Dio, Hist. 49.14.3; 69.12.1– 14.2: 3; 15.1), and they suffered temporary expulsions from Rome and other cities. In Egypt, Jews lived at Elephantine, a military settlement, in the 5th century bce (Porten 2011). In the 2nd century bce they built a temple to God at Leontopolis that stood for 200 years (J.W. 7.421). Papyri also testify to Jewish presence in the district of Fayyum and the city of Oxyrhyncus. Alexandria was a significant Jewish center, and Philo claims that it harbored a million Jewish souls (Flacc. 6.43). Josephus says Alexander himself promoted Jewish settlement in Alexandria and accorded them privileges (Ag. Ap. 2.35) though elsewhere he credits his successor Ptolemy. The Letter of Aristeas, dated to the 2nd century bce and linked to Alexandria, relates the translation of the Pentateuch into Greek. While apologetic in nature, it suggests that significant number of Jews required the translation. Philo exemplifies Jews educated in the genres and conventions of Greco-Roman literature, in his method of interpretation Jewish history and identity via Platonism. Papyri, epigraphy, and literary references attest to Egyptian Jews enjoying varying degrees of self-government and involvement in commerce, civic, and intellectual life. Jews lived in Cyrenica (a region that includes modern-day Benghazi) as evidenced by papyri, synagogues, and inscriptions. Josephus says Jews were sent there by Ptolemy I (Ag. Ap. 2.44). After 70 ce relations with Rome and with locals seem to have soured. A Roman governor killed some of the Jewish aristocracy in Cyrene in 73, suffering little censure from Rome. In 116–117 Jews of Cyrene mounted a rebellion, joined by Jews of Egypt and Cyprus (Cassius Dio, Hist. 68.32.1–3; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 4.2.2–5; CJZC nos. 17–23). A significant percentage of the population was killed and many civic structures, including gymnasia, baths, and temples to gods and goddesses were destroyed. In their ferocious tamping down of the revolt, Roman troops were aided by mob violence from local non-Jews. The level of the destruction of the communities can be inferred from the ensuing silence of sources about the existence of Jewish communities in Egypt, including Alexandria and Cyrenica, until the late 3rd or early 4th century. The earliest evidence for Jews in Carthage and nearby towns in North Africa comes from inscriptions, many from a necropolis at Gammarth (Le Bohec 1981a, 1981b). A few of these inscriptions, which include Jewish symbols, Hebrew writing, and Jewish names, are dated to the late 2nd century ce by some scholars, but most of them come from the later Roman period. The Christian writer Tertullian (155–240 ce) refers to a Jewish presence around Carthage and knowledge of some customs such as daily immersion or prayer in the open air that are not explicable from biblical evidence (Bapt. 15.3; Nat. I.13.4). Scattered references in rabbinic literature attest to rabbis from Carthage. A 6th-century synagogue has been excavated at ancient Naro (Hammam-Lif). One can infer Jews in Carthage only by extrapolating backward from these later materials. 209

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Jewish presence in Rome is found as early as the 2nd century bce, though from that time they experienced changing fortunes in Italy (Williams 2013). Temporarily expelled from Rome in 139 bce, and later under Claudius, they were granted special privileges by Julius Caesar to form collegia to practice their religion (Ant. 14.10.190–202; 211–216). Jews openly mourned his death in 44 bce (Suetonius, Jul. 84.5). Epitaphs on Roman catacombs from the 1st century ce contain references to multiple synagogues. The ancient port of Ostia contains remains of an early synagogue. A thriving community is suggested by reports of rabbis from Palestine coming to Rome, as well as reports from Philo, Josephus, and other Roman writers. Jewish communities dotted Asia Minor, and Jews seem to have been integrated into society. The book of Acts shows Paul the apostle being welcomed into their synagogues (e.g. Acts 13:5, 14; 14:1; 15:21; 17:10; 18:4, 19). The remains of a synagogue at Sardis are in the center of the city, part of a larger civic complex. In Aphrodisias, inscriptions refer to some donors as “Godfearers,” θεοσεβέις (theosebeis), non-Jews who were part of the synagogue community. No consensus exists on a precise meaning of the term or its possible connection to early believers in Jesus. Scholars differ on when to date the inscriptions, some placing the earliest at the turn of the 2nd century (Trebilco 2006) while others put material as late as 5th or 6th century (Williams 2013: 18). Anatolian Jewish communities were not marked by the outbreaks of violence and hostility that shook Egypt and Cyrenica. Jews appear in Babylonia as a result of the deportations under Nebuchadnezzar II reported in the final chapters of 2 Kings, and prophets, particularly Jeremiah, Second Isaiah, and Ezekiel, meditate on the meaning of exile. While the books of Ezra and Nehemiah report that the Persian Empire allowed some deportees to return to Jerusalem 70 years later and to rebuild the Temple, some Judahites remained, as evidenced by Jewish names in the Murashu documents from Nippur in the 5th century bce. No substantial evidence comes along until the flowering of rabbinic activity beginning in the 3rd century ce, but the richness of that material allows scholars to infer a settled and relatively secure community (Kalmin 2006, 2014). Like many peoples in the ancient world, Jews possessed multiple allegiances, both to the lands of their birth and residence and to the land and god of Israel. Philo notes that Jews are so numerous that one country cannot hold them and cites their dual loyalties to their “mother city” (metropolis) and to their particular “fatherlands” (Flacc. 46). Similarly Acts describes “Jews from every nation (ethnos) under heaven” gathered in Jerusalem to receive the Spirit (Acts 2:5–11; Baker 2009: 79–99). One expression of this identification with Jerusalem was the payment of the Temple tax, which the Romans converted into a punitive poll tax after 70. Although “exile” is treated by rabbinic sources as punishment and something to be remedied, diaspora Jews often flourished outside the land of Israel and adapted to Greco-Roman culture. Recent scholarship has moved away from dichotomizing Jews as either completely separatist or totally assimilated and has looked at the complex ways Jews maintained identity and participated in the larger Mediterranean cultures (Barclay 1996; Gruen 2004).

Bibliography C. Baker, “‘From Every Nation Under Heaven’: Jewish Ethnicities in the Greco-Roman World,” in Prejudice and Christian Beginnings, ed. L. Nasrallah and E. Schüssler Fiorenza (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 79–99.

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R. Kalmin, Jewish Babylonia between Persia and Roman Palestine (New York: Oxford, 2006). R. Kalmin, Migrating Tales. The Talmud’s Narratives and their Historical Context (Oakland: University of California, 2014). A. Kerkeslager, “Jews in Egypt and Cyrenaica 66–c. 235 ce,” CHJ 4 (2006), 53–68. Y. Le Bohec, “Inscriptions juives et judaisant de l’Afrique romaine,” Antiquités africaines 17 (1981a): 165–207. Y. Le Bohec, “Juifs et Judaisant dans l’Afrique romaine. Remarques Onomastique,” Antiquités africaines 17 (1981b): 209–29. C. Setzer, “Jews in Carthage and Western North Africa, 66-c. 235 ce,” CHJ 4 (2006), 68–75. P. Trebilco, “Jews in Asia Minor, 66–c. 235 ce,” CHJ 4 (2006), 75–82. CLAUDIA SETZER

Related entries: Asia Minor; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Land, Concept of; Luke-Acts; Philo of Alexandria; Rhodes.

Diet in Palestine Reconstructing the Second Temple diet for Jews in the Eastern Levant is constrained by the limitations of literary and archaeological evidence. In addition to Second Temple period writings and archaeological sites, it is also necessary to draw upon evidence available in documents and sites from the Iron Age as well as the Persian and Roman periods. As was the case in earlier times (Macdonald 2008: 19–40), grain, wine, grapes, olive oil, dates, figs, vegetables, and legumes were very important (Neh 13:15; 1Q20 xi 17; Jdt 10:5; Josephus, J.W. 7.296, m. Ketub. 5:8), especially the special triad of wine, oil, and bread celebrated as festivals in the Temple Scroll (xliii 3–9). Whereas royal rations are accepted without comment in 2 Kings 25:29–30 and Esther 2:9, food restrictions denote piety in writings set both in the diaspora (Tob 1:10–12; Dan 1; 3 Macc 3:4; Let. Arist. 128–171, 184) and in the land of Israel (1 Macc 1:62–63; 2 Macc 5:27; 6:7– 7:42; Jdt 12:1–4; Josephus, Life 14; Acts 11:5–9), incorporating purity concerns about idolatry (1 Cor 8, 10; Rom 14:21), eating with gentiles (Jub. 22:16–18), washing hands (Mark 7:1–3), and restricting pure food to fully obedient members of a sectarian community (CD A xiv 20; 1QS vii 19; 4Q274 2 i 3). Diets are also restricted by poverty (Ezek 4:9, m. Pe’ah 8:5), food shortage (Josephus, J.W. 1.64), or asceticism (Josephus, Life 11; Mark 1:6); alternatively, they would be especially rich during festivals and weddings (Tob 8:19; m. Ŝeb. 7:4). Grains, Legumes, and Treenuts.  Grains, especially varieties of wheat and barley, constituted about 50% of the diet (Broshi 2001: 124); they were eaten roasted (Jdt 10:5) or raw (Mark 2:23), and often as bread, with barley bread being the food of the poor or those affected by famine (Josephus, J.W. 5.427). Millet, sorghum, and rice were more common in Hellenistic times (Broshi 2001: 126). Legumes included lentils and fava beans (2 Sam 27:29), chickpeas (Isa 30:24), peas and lupines (Borowski 1987: 96; m. Kil. 1:2–3), vetch (Borowski 1987: 95), and fenugreek (Macdonald 2008: 27; see also the Old Greek to Dan 1:12). Nuts included almonds (m. Ma’aś. 1:3), pistachios (m. Ŝeb. 7:5), and, later, walnuts (Josephus, J.W. 3.51). Fruits, Vegetables, Herbs/Spices/Condiments, and Beverages.  Dates, figs, and grapes continued to predominate, eaten fresh and dried, often as cakes (Jdt 10:5). Other fruits included pomegranates, caper berries (4Q386 1 ii 5), citrons, and apples (Josephus, Ant. 17.183). Olives were not eaten

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as a fruit until Hellenistic times (Borowski 1987: 123), but then became a major part of the diet (Rosenblum 2010: 18). Carobs and sycamore figs were eaten by the poor and famished (Zohary 1982: 68; Hamel 1990: 16–17). In Roman times, as many as 30 kinds of vegetables were eaten (Broshi 2001: 130), including garden grown (1) onion, garlic, and leeks; (2) radishes, spinach, beets, kale, turnips, and especially cabbage; and (3) squashes and melons (Hamel 1990:17; m. Kil. 1:1–5). Herbs and spices included mint, dill, cumin (Matt 23:33), rue (Luke 11:42), black cumin (Isa 28:27), coriander (m. Kil. 1:2), mustard (Mk 4:30–32), and cinnamon (Rev 18:12– 13). Wild plants were an important food source for the poor and those threatened by starvation (Josephus, J.W. 5.437; cf. 4 Ezra 9:26). Salt was the most important condiment (Sir 39:26). Wild honey was also enjoyed (11QTa lx 9). Water (Hamel 1990: 21–22) and wine mixed with water (m. B. Mez. 4:27) were the main beverages. Animals, Dairy and Eggs. Consumption of both freshwater and saltwater fish increased in Hellenistic times (with fish sauce found at Masada), as did consumption of red meat (Lev-Tov 2003: 429, 436–38). Cattle, previously reserved for sacrifices, festivals, and plowing, were eaten alongside the more typical sheep and goats (Lev-Tov 2003: 433). Chickens, introduced in Persian times, were widely eaten, as were other domestic fowl (Lev-Tov 2001: 433; Let. Arist. 145). Wild mammals, wildfowl, and insects continued to be eaten (11QTa lx 8; Let. Arist. 145). The desire to consume forbidden meats (4 Macc 1:33) may have on occasion led to the actual consumption of pigs and hyraxes (Lev-Tov 2003: 431–32). Dairy products, predominantly from goats (Macdonald 2008: 35), were generally consumed in fermented forms such as ghee, leben, and cheese (Jub. 29:15, Hamel 1990: 20–21). There is no evidence that separating milk from meat (m. Ḥull. 8:1–4) was widespread at this time. Eggs from domestic fowl also were enjoyed (Hamel 1990: 20–21; Luke 11:12).

Bibliography M. Broshi, Bread Wine, Walls and Scrolls (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001). G. Hamel, Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine, First Three Centuries, C.E (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990). J. Lev-Tov, “‘Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed…?’ A Dietary Perspective on Hellenistic and Roman Influence,” in Palestine, Zeichen aus Text und Stein. Stufen auf dem Weg zu einer Archäologie des Neuen Testaments, ed. S. Alkier and J. Zangenberg (Tübingen: Francke, 2003), 420–46. N. Macdonald, What Did the Ancient Israelites Eat? Diet in Biblical Times (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008). J. Rosenblum, Food and Identity in Early Rabbinic Judaism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). M. Zohary, Plants of the Bible (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982). NAOMI S. S. JACOBS

Related entries: Agriculture; Idols and Images; Medicine and Hygiene; Purification and Purity; Wealth and Poverty.

Dio Chrysostom Dio “Chrysostom” (“golden-mouthed,” a later nickname bestowed for his oratorical gifts) was a Greek public speaker, intellectual, and politician of the late 1st and early 2nd centuries ce. His 212

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family hailed from the local elite of Bithynia (northern Asia Minor), but he worked and traveled extensively throughout the eastern provinces and Italy. Like many other intellectuals, he faced exile during the repressive regime of the emperor Domitian (81–96 ce). Luckily, he and his family enjoyed positive relations with the next two emperors, Nerva (96–98) and Trajan (98–117; note Philostratus, Vit. soph. 1.7 and Pliny, Ep. 10.81–82). Dio, however, probably exaggerated his Roman connections. He became a sought-after orator as an early figure in the “Second Sophistic” renaissance of Greek culture. His 80 extant speeches, delivered in Rome and in various eastern cities, are vital sources for showing the development of Greek cultural tastes, providing precious information about ancient attitudes, and illustrating the operation of political power at the local level (Jones 1978; Bekker-Nielsen 2008). Like other Second Sophistic authors such as Plutarch, Dio wrestled with the awkward relationship between the Greeks’ great past and their current impotence under Roman rule. The central problem was how to derive pride and instruction from the free Greeks of yore, while not alienating the Romans by disrupting present circumstances. As such, Dio’s speeches are in constant dialogue with earlier Greek history and literature, with many an insecure glance at Rome. Figures like Dio were expected to use their rhetorical gifts to advocate for benefits to their home communities within the Roman imperial system, and Dio had some success in this regard. As a literary figure and popular philosopher, Dio’s works reflect a smattering of Cynic and Stoic postures, rather than a systematic philosophy (Moles 1978). His political speeches urge harmony and restraint, which could often mask real social ills, if not self-serving appeals to maintain a status quo favorable to the speaker (Swain 2000: 42). His outspoken moral critiques of audiences in Alexandria and Tarsus help round out modern knowledge of cities important in the history of Second Temple Judaism and early Christianity, from a peculiar but powerfully descriptive gentile perspective (Or. 32–34; Mussies 1972). His political speeches delivered in his hometown, Prusa (e.g. Or. 40, 42–43, 45–51), and neighboring cities in Bithynia, give unparalleled details on the (sometimes ugly) operation of local politics vis-à-vis Roman power. Dio regularly tried to bully the Prusans by threatening to call in his Roman connections, thus violating his own pro-moderation advice that he and Plutarch preached to other audiences (Fuhrmann 2015). Not all of Dio’s work is extant. Circa 405 ce, Synesius of Cyrene noted (Dion 39B = Stern 1974: 538–40) a remark of Dio’s, apparently from a now-lost work, about the Essenes. Synesius claimed that Dio “praises the Essenes, an entirely fortunate city (πόλις, polis) by the Dead Sea in the interior of Palestine, lying just by Sodoma (τὰ Σόδομα, ta Sodoma).” In this garbled report, it is unclear if “Sodoma” refers to biblical Sodom, or perhaps the mountains around the Dead Sea. If the citation is genuine, then Dio Chrysostom was the only pagan writer, other than Pliny the Elder, to have mentioned the Essenes, and he seems to have done so in a way that supports identifying the Qumran sectarians as Essenes (Taylor 2015: 141–66).

Bibliography T. Bekker-Nielsen, Urban Life and Local Politics in Roman Bithynia: The Small World of Dion Chrysostomos, Black Sea Studies 7 (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 2008).

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C. J. Fuhrmann, “Dio Chrysostom as a Local Politician: A Critical Reappraisal,” in Aspects of Ancient Institutions and Geography: Studies in Honor of Richard J. A. Talbert, ed. L. L. Brice and D. Slooties (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 161–71. C. P. Jones, The Roman World of Dio Chrysostom (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978). J. Moles, “The Career and Conversion of Dio Chrysostom,” JHS 98 (1978): 79–100. G. Mussies, Dio Chrysostom and the New Testament: Collected Parallels (Leiden: Brill, 1972). S. Swain, ed., Dio Chrysostom: Politics, Letters, and Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). CHRISTOPHER J. FUHRMANN

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization.

Diodorus Siculus Diodorus of Sicily’s (ca. 80–27 bce?) work is the sole surviving continuous historical account that details the rise of Philip II through the beginnings of the Diadochi period (vols. 16–18) (382–317 bce); thus, his record is an unparalleled resource for illuminating the developments that led to Maccabean rule. The author of the longest preserved history in Greek, the Library of History (βιβλιοθήκη ἱστορικής, bibliothēkē historikēs), Diodorus claimed to have written, in 40 volumes, the first unified narrative of all the nations of the world in both space and time (1.3) from their mythical/paradoxological origins (vols. 1–6) to the unifying events of his own day (but ending in 60 bce with the ascendancy of Julius Caesar [only vols. 1–5, 11–20 fully extant]). This universal history is also unparalleled in emphasizing “cultic devotion” as formative of the characteristic “traits” of a particular ethnos (4.1.1–4). Diodorus also promotes themes of late Hellenism that later resonated in different tones and modulations in early Judaism and Christianity: (i) The historian as a “minister of divine Providence” (1.1) should persuade a humanity full of miscreants and “wild beasts” toward the “good” and against “evil” (cf. Philo, Exposition of the Tenth Commandment [Spec. Leg. 4.79–131]; Paul, Rom 1:18–32). Diodorus is the first Greek historian to commend explicit moral behavior gleaned from the superior suasion of ἱστορία, historia (1.1–3). (ii) Providence (πρόνοια, pronoia) interacts in synergy with humankind to pilot steady, confluent streams toward a universal kinship of all peoples (historia as the “mother city” [μητρόπολις, mētr-opolis] of philosophy [1.2.2]; cf. Stoicism; Luke’s “plan of God” [ἡ βουλὴ θεοῦ, hē boulē theou]). (iii) Diodorus uniquely refers to the Jewish nation and their trademark “perfect number” of “twelve tribes” that set them apart as a people (40.3.1–8).

Bibliography A. Burton, Diodorus Siculus, Book 1: A Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 1972). J. Marincola, “Universal History from Ephorus to Diodorus,” in A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography, ed. J. Marincola, 2 vols. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 1:171–88. E. I. McQueen, Diodorus Siculus: The Reign of Philip II—The Greek and Macedonian Narrative from Book XVI (London: Bristol Classical Press, 1995). D. P. Moessner, “‘Completed End(s)ings’ of Historiographical Narrative: Diodorus Siculus and the End(ing) of Acts,” in Die Apostelgeschichte und hellenistische Geschichtsschreibung: Festschrift für

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Disability

Eckhart Plümacher zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, ed. C. Breytenbach and J. Schröter, AGJU 57 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 193–211. K. S. Sacks, Diodorus Siculus and the First Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990). DAVID P. MOESSNER

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Historiography; Julius Caesar, Gaius.

Disability Defined as any characteristic impeding full societal participation, the term “disability” within Second Temple writings can be applied to a wide number of conditions and social spheres (cf. Abrams 1998: 1–15; Lawrence 2013: 1–3). For instance, depending socially constructed contexts, it could include not only compromised vision, hearing, mobility, cognition, and sanity but also bodily blemishes, inability to reproduce, and temporary and permanent impurity (esp. skin conditions) as well as, more generally, youth, old age, pregnancy, being in labor, and being non-male, a slave, poor, or a gentile. Some lists combine several categories (Lev 21:17–22; 1QSa ii 3–10; 1QM vii 4–7; Matt 11:5 par. Luke 7:22; m. Bik. 7:6), while others simply stress compromised ability (1QSa i 19–22; CD A xv 15–17; 4QMMT B 49–54). When coming from or caused by YHWH (Exod 4:11), disabilities could be understood as divine punishment (Deut 28:28–29; 4Q387 2 ii 4; Luke 1:20; John 9:1–2). At the same time, however, it was assumed that the disabled should be assisted (Lev 19:4; Deut 27:18; Ps.-Phoc. 24; CD A xiv 13–17; Rom 2:19) and accommodated (1QSa i 19–22; cf. m. Giṭ. 5:7 and the use of sign language). At a cognitive level, disabilities such as blindness, lameness, deaf-muteness, or being crooked, crippled, or paralyzed pose questions for a deep construction of the concepts of purity, holiness, beauty, righteousness, salvation, strength, and utility. Sinfulness and recalcitrance (1 En. 90:7; CD A i 9; 1QS iv 11; 1QHa xiv 24; Matt 23:16–26, passim), weakness and uselessness (Isa 59:10), especially of idols (Ps 135:15–18; Dan 5:23; 3 Macc 4:16; Jub. 12:3) are all presented in this fashion. Philo particularly employs disabilities as metaphors (Migr. 69; Agr. 13). As healing the disabled is a portent of divine favor, linked with the end times (Isa 29:18, 35:5. 42:7; Ps 146:8; Matt 11:5, 15:30; Luke 23:29), so the “un-healed” state of being often resulted in marginalization; the presentation of someone with a disability as a happy and productive person is rare. Blindness, the most frequently mentioned and emblematic, devastating disability, is equated with being kept from God’s light (Tob 3:17, 5:10; m. Meg. 4:6) and, as such, is often paralleled by other conditions, such as being lame, deaf, or mad. Madness (with foolishness) characterizes negative rulers (Dan 4, Esther, 3 Maccabees; cf. Philo, Flacc. 36). Madness can be regarded as a punishment (Deut 28:28), mistakenly assumed of prophets and the pious (Hos 9:7; 4 Macc 8:5; 1 Cor 14:23; John 10:20), a form of divine inspiration (Philo, Mut. 39), and the result of demonic possession (e.g. 1 Sam 16:14–16, 23, 4Q444 14 i 5.8; 11QPsa xxvii 10; 4Q511 11.8; Mark 7:26–30; Luke 14:33–36). A blemish-free state is required for both sacrificial animals (Lev 22:20–25; Deut 15:21; 17:1; Mal 1:8; 11Q19 lii 16–20) and priests (Philo, Spec. 1.117, 242; Josephus, Ant. 3.278; J.W. 1.270), and defines human beauty (2 Sam 14:25; Dan 1:4).

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Dream and Vision Reports

Five texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls (Temple Scroll [11Q19], Rule of the Congregation [1QSa], Damascus Document, the War Scroll, and 4QMMT) curtail communal participation to varying degrees for those considered disabled (cf. Dorman 2007). The Temple Scroll (1Q19 xlv 12–14) bans the blind from all of Jerusalem due to impurity (1Q19 xlv 12–14). The Rule of the Congregation (1QSa ii 3–8, context debated), the War Scroll (1QM vii 4–7, a holy battle), and the Damascus Document (cf. CD A xv 14–17 and 4D parallels) ban persons with disabilities due to the presence of angels (Shemesh 1997). 4QMMT B 52–55 states that blind and deaf priests unable to perceive or prevent impurity may not serve, though they may eat offerings (cf. Lev 21:22). By contrast, Luke 14:13 includes the poor, crippled, lame, and blind in a wedding banquet of apocalyptic significance.

Bibliography J. Z. Abrams, Judaism and Disability: Portrayals in Ancient Texts from the Tanach through the Bavli (Washington: Gallaudet University Press, 1998). J. H. W. Dorman, The Blemished Body: Deformity and Disability in the Qumran Scrolls (Groningen: Rijksuniversiteit, 2007). L. J. Lawrence, Sense and Stigma in the Gospels: Depictions of Sensory-Disabled Characters (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). A. Shemesh, “‘The Holy Angels Are in Their Council’: The Exclusion of Deformed Persons from Holy Places in Qumranic and Rabbinic Literature,” DSD 4 (1997): 179–206. NAOMI S. S. JACOBS

Related entries: Demons and Exorcism; Judgment; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Priesthood; Purification and Purity; Righteousness and Justice; Sickness and Disease.

Dream and Vision Reports Hebrew Bible. Dreams and visions play an important role in the patriarchal narratives, prophetic oracles, and apocalyptic literatures of the Hebrew Scriptures. The initial Pentateuchal legislation of Numbers 12:6–8 establishes the acceptability of dreams and visions (Husser 1996: 94). Deuteronomy 12:1–3 qualifies this position to account for liabilities of false or contrived revelations (cf. Jer 23:16–32; Zech 10:2). For this reason, reliable interpretations are critical and originate with the God of Israel (Gen 40:8; 41:16; Dan 2:19, 28, 30). The literary episodes in the Hebrew Bible cohere well with “message” and “symbolic” dream forms known from ancient Near Eastern and classical sources (Oppenheim 1956: 191, 206). These same types persist in ancient Jewish writings (Flannery-Dailey 2004). Dead Sea Scrolls. Revelatory discourses and dream-visions are found at intervals in the Qumran collection, with notable variations in their representation in Hebrew and Aramaic literature. Complete dream-visions are few and far between in the Qumran Hebrew texts. In all instances, Hebrew dream-visions are crafted closely on existing episodes in tradition found in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. sections of Visions of Samuel 4Q160 1; 3–4 i; Reworked Pentateuch 4Q364 4b–e ii 21–26; and Pseudo-Ezekiel 4Q385 2–3). References to “seers” and “visions,” however, are common (e.g. 1QHa vi 18; xii 19; x 17; xii 11, 21).

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Dream and Vision Reports

Visionary revelation is pervasive in the Qumran Aramaic corpus. With narrative settings oriented around either the patriarchal past or exilic diaspora (Tigchelaar 2010: 157), the Aramaic texts embrace pseudepigraphic voices reflective of these narrative settings. As such, these dream-vision episodes and interpretations are purely literary and optimized for interpreting and extending authoritative traditions (e.g. Genesis Apocryphon 1Q20), advancing priestly ideologies (e.g. Visions of Amram 4Q543–547), and theologizing aspects of world history (e.g. Four Kingdoms 4Q552–553; cf. Perrin 2015: 229). Given their revelatory penchant, the Aramaic texts have a thoroughgoing apocalyptic character (García Martínez 2010: 438). At least two key writings among the Aramaic texts that participate in these developments—1 Enoch and Aramaic Levi Document—are also typically ranked among modern collections of pseudepigraphal texts. “Apocrypha” and “Pseudepigrapha.”  The Second Temple period works included in these later collections provide both additional examples of the literary uses of dream-visions as well as some insight into tensions around this medium of revelation. The Book of Jubilees retains and rewrites several dream-visions from its scriptural base text, such as Jacob’s dream at Bethel (cf. Gen 28; Jub. 27). Dream-visions also served exegetical purposes, as in Levi’s priestly ordination in Jubilees 32, which has some analogy with the revelations of Aramaic Levi Document (cf. T. Levi 2–5, 8). Ben Sira is critical of dreams that are found only in the minds of fools, giving flight to their false hopes (Sir 34:1–8). A concentration of dream-vision accounts and interpretations are found in 1 Enoch. Through dream revelations and visionary journeys, Enoch learns of the fate of the Watchers (1 En. 12:3– 16:4), gleans otherworldly knowledge on the course of history (1 En. 85–90), and is enlightened about the workings of the cosmos (1 En. 72–82). This dream-laden saga earned Enoch an exalted status in some of the Aramaic literature from Qumran, which in one instance casts him as a dream interpreter (4QEnGiantsb [4Q530] 2 ii + 6 + 7 i + 8–11 + 12 [?] 23–24). With the fall of the Second Temple, several writers of works often included in these collections utilized the dream-vision as a space for reflecting on the way forward for the covenant community, suffering and justice, transmission of tradition, and eschatological speculation (e.g. 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch, and Apocalypse of Abraham). Josephus.  The writings of Josephus contain 54 dream-vision reports (Gnuse 1996: 129–204). These range from rewritten scriptural revelations (e.g. the Joseph novella in Ant. 2.10–17; 63–73; 75–86) to new dreams attributed to biblical personages (e.g. Amram in Ant. 2.12–217), to dream reports of post-biblical or contemporary political figures (e.g. Alexander the Great in Ant. 11.333–335 or Hyrcanus in Ant. 13.332). Dream-visions are also an important part of Josephus’ autobiography and apologetic (Life 208–210; J.W. 3.351–54). Moreover, Josephus draws a close connection between his abilities to receive and interpret dream-visions with his priestly descent and knowledge of scriptural traditions (Feldman 1998: 101). This aspect of Josephus’ characterization should be contextualized in relation to his understanding of classic and contemporary prophecy, not least in light of his portrayals of the Essenes as endowed with prophetic qualities including proficiency in dream-vision interpretation (J.W. 1.78–80; 2.111–13, Ant. 13.311–313; 15.373–379; 17.345–48).

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Dualism

New Testament.  The New Testament is bookended with dream reports and references, with a selection found in between. Dream episodes prefigure the Jesus story in Matthew’s Gospel (Matt 1:18–24; 2:13–15; 2:22). Acts’ narrative and theology are heavily dependent on dreams and visionary encounters (e.g. Acts 9:3–16; 10:3–16; 16:9–10). Finally, a vivid and extensive dream is the vehicle for Revelation’s epistolary messages (Rev 1:10–3:22) and apocalyptic outlook (4:1–22:9).

Bibliography F. Flannery-Dailey, Dreamers, Scribes, and Priests: Jewish Dreams in the Hellenistic land Roman Eras, JSJSup 90 (Leiden: Brill, 2004). F. García Martínez, “Aramaica Qumranica Apocalyptica?” in Aramaica Qumranica: Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence, 30 June–2 July 2008, ed. K. Berthelot and D. Stökl Ben Ezra, STDJ 94 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 435–50. J. M. Husser, Dreams and Dream Narratives in the Biblical World, BS 63 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1996). A. L. Oppenheim, The Interpretation of Dreams in the Ancient Near East with a Translation of an Assyrian Dream-Book, TAPS 46.3 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1956). E. J. C. Tigchelaar, “Aramaic Texts from Qumran and the Authoritativeness of Hebrew Scriptures: Preliminary Observations,” in Authoritative Scriptures in Ancient Judaism, ed. M. Popović, JSJSup 141 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 155–71. ANDREW B. PERRIN

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Apocrypha, “Old Testament”; Ascent into Heaven; Baruch, Second Book of; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament”; Pseudepigraphy; Revelation, Book of.

Dualism The term “dualism” denotes the polarity of two principles operating in a given field of action. In religious and theological spheres it stands for systems that explain the universe as the domain and result of coexisting and eternally opposed negative and positive principles. The ancient Iranian religion is an example of such a system. However, among the Dead Sea Scrolls, a less extreme form of dualism is attested as the two forces function under the authority of the same God. It should be stressed that this clearly dualistic outlook is typical only of the literature produced by the Dead Sea Scrolls community, even though allusions to dualistic views of varying degrees are scattered in other nonsectarian scrolls, as indeed they are in non-Qumranic compositions. The clearest expression of sectarian dualism is recorded in the section labeled the Treatise on the Two Spirits appearing in cols. iii–iv of the Rule of the Community (1QS iii 13–iv 26). It evinces the view that the human realm was created divinely as the battlefield on which two powers are struggling to gain the upper hand: the power of good and the power of evil, represented by light and darkness respectively. Each controls a specific human and angelic sphere and is led by an angelic figure. The sphere of goodness and light is ruled by the Archangel of Light whereas the sphere of evil and darkness is dominated by the demonic Angel of Darkness. The Angel of Light is the leader of the Sons of Light, consisting of the angelic host and the members of the Qumran community. The Angel of Darkness, also labeled

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Belial, heads a camp of demonic supernatural beings, joined by the gentiles and the sinners of Israel. Accordingly, the evil forces persecute and lead astray the Sons of Light, embodied chiefly by the members of the Qumran community (1QS iii 23; 4Q174 4 3–4; 11QMelch [11Q13] ii 13–14). So the battle between the two camps goes on externally and internally in the human heart (1QS iv 23–25). One of the clearest expressions of the dualistic reality is embodied in the War Scroll (1QM), which describes the final struggle between the evil forces and the camp of light in the eschatological era. However, the dualistic system espoused by the Rule of the Community is attenuated by three limitations: firstly, created and permitted by God, the constant struggle is nevertheless limited in time, for its final demise will occur in the eschatological era (1QS iv 18–20). Secondly, even in the course of normal history, God is not neutral regarding the two opposing camps but favors the camp of light (1QS iii 26–iv 1). Thirdly, while under “the rule of Belial” in their own historical circumstances, “the angel of his truth” helps the Sons of Light in their struggle (1QS iii 24–25; iii 26–iv 1). Notably, the exposition in the Rule of the Community (1QS iii–iv) is the only systematic and detailed presentation of this sectarian doctrine. Following the full publication of shorter cave 4 copies Rule of the Community (4Q258–4Q259 [4QSd,e]) that lack this section, it has been argued that the dualistic system was introduced into the sectarian compositions at a later stage, and only to some of them, since the Hodayot (1QHa + 4QH Manuscripts), for instance, does not use the dualistic nomenclature typical of 1QS iii–iv. The dualistic perspectives are discernible in a series of antithetical pairs that intersect all types of the sectarian literature, however: two opposing groups (e.g. Qumran covenanters versus the wicked), rivaling entities (e.g. Angel of Light versus Angel of Darkness), and contradictory terms (e.g. good versus bad; truth versus lie; light versus darkness; righteousness versus sin). Therefore, dualism should be seen as a single system that was adopted by the Qumran sectarian texts in a variety of aspects and formulations. It is the most radical expression of a dualistic approach within Judaism, though, and its origins have been explained in various ways, chiefly as the result of Iranian influence or as an inner development from biblical concepts. Notably, dualistic views are seen in various contemporary writings, such as Jewish apocalypses (e.g. 1 Enoch 15:8–12; 54:5; 55:4, Jubilees 10:8–11) and some writings of the New Testament (e.g. the Gospel of John 1:45; 12:36), indicating the wide dissemination of such notions in antiquity.

Bibliography D. Dimant, “The Demonic Realm in Qumran Sectarian Literature,” in Gut und Böse in Mensch und Welt, ed. H.-G. Nesselrath and F. Wilk, Orientalische Religionen in der Antike 10 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 103–17. J. Duhaime, “Dualism,” EDSS 1 (2000), 1:215–20. J. Frey, “Different Patterns of Dualistic Thought in the Qumran Library,” in Legal Texts and Legal Issues, ed. M. Bernstein, F. García Martínez, and J. Kampen; STDJ 23 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 275–335. G. Xeravits, ed., Dualism in Qumran, LSTS 76 (London: T&T Clark, 2010). DEVORAH DIMANT

Related entries: Angels; Apocalypse; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Hodayot (1QHa + 4QH manuscripts); Jubilees, Book of; Satan and Related Figures; Sectarianism; Sin.

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Economics in Palestine

Economics in Palestine The study of economics has to do not only with the means of earning a living but also with human labor and with who gets to make the most use of produced items. The economist investigates both the efficiency of the economy (“the size of the economic pie”) and the equity of the economy (“how the pie is/was divided”; Mankiw 2004). Economic Type.  The ancient economy of the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern regions was agrarian. This observation is so common as to be beyond dispute (Rostovtzeff 1922; Finley 1999; Dar 2007). Agrarian economies were based on land ownership and farm production. This fact implies that the way to acquire wealth in an agrarian economy was to acquire more land. There was not much else a person could do with wealth (except invest in the risky trading/shipping business), and investment in land also brought social capital. People wanted land—and the more the better. An estate of 200 acres (80 hectares) could make its owner fairly wealthy. Significance of Trade.  Although some historians hesitate to affirm a market economy in the Palestine/Israel of the Second Temple period, recent archaeological discoveries suggest that such a situation emerged by the end of the period. For example, archaeologists have revealed that at least seven villages in Galilee were producing and marketing their wares (pottery and stoneware vessels) for the rest of Galilee and even into the Golan; further, there was a flourishing stoneware industry in Jerusalem (Fiensy 2014a; Aviam 2014; Dazkiewics, Liesen, and Schneider 2014; Magen 1994). In addition, the Sea of Galilee contained many varieties of fish edible for both Jews and gentiles, which were pickled or salted and then sold all over Palestine (Josephus, J.W. 3.508, 520; m. ‘Abod. Zar. 2:6; Strabo 16.2.45; m. ‘Abod. Zar. 2:6; m. Ned. 6:4). There were also cloth industries and food industries in Palestine/Israel (linen, grain, wine, and olive oil). Political and Economic Structure.  Ancient agrarian societies existed in the context of empires, which were ruled by an aristocratic class. The number of these aristocrats was always small in agrarian societies; most historians estimate that they were only about 1% of the population (MacMullen 1974). The surplus was simply not large enough to support a greater number of wealthy persons. If one allows a population of 1.2 million in all of Herod the Great’s kingdom (Dar 2007), there would have been around 12,000 aristocrats in Galilee and Judea. Aristocrats did not engage in physical work and usually did not even live on the farms they owned. Rather, as absentee landlords, they lived in the cities and demanded rents and taxes from the agricultural workers. Consequently, rural protests were common and could involve worker strikes, filing a complaint with a government official, or even flight to another farm or territory (Rostovtzeff 1922; de Ste. Croix 1981; Finley 1999). The farm surpluses, extracted in rents and taxes, kept the wealthy in their accustomed style of living and also fed the landless merchants, craftsmen, and day laborers, many of whom lived in the cities. Improved technology and farming methods gave workers a small surplus, but much of this surplus was appropriated by the powerful ruling class. From the point of view of rural workers, life was a continual balancing act, juggling the demands of the powerful on their farm with the subsistence needs of their families.

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Table 4.1  Wages and costs in Palestine in the late Second Temple period Daily Wages

Annual Wages

Annual Cost of Bread

Agricultural worker

1/6 denarius to 200 denarii/drachmas (= 200 days 4 denarii (at harvest time) of work; Ben David)

124 denarii (Sperber)

Other unskilled laborer

1/6 denarius to 1 drachma/denarius

124 denarii (Sperber)

200 denarii/drachmas (= 200 days of work; Ben David)

Standard of Living.  Most historians agree that the average daily wage of the laborer was one denarius (or one drachma), based mainly on the parable of Matthew 20:2, 9, 13. But there are other indications that one denarius was the average wage: Tobit 5:14, j. Ŝeb. 8:4, b B. Bat. 87a, b. ʿAbod. Zar. 62a. One must emphasize, however, that this wage was only the average. There could be a great variation in wages in ancient Palestine, mainly due to the type of task done rather than inflation or recession (see Table 4.1). In general, the economy of Palestine was stable, except for times of famine, until the 3rd century ce. Though the table lists annual cost of bread, workers must have consumed other foods as well (wine, meat, cheese, eggs, lentils, etc.). Taking clothing and housing into account, then, actual costs must have been considerably higher than these figures indicate, though the cost of bread does provide the historian some idea of living expenses. A year’s supply of bread for a family was rather uniform in cost throughout the Greco-Roman world (Fiensy 2014b). Most ancient economists conclude that an unskilled day laborer could support a family of four persons but with no margin for error. They would have lived very simply and meagerly. One economist, Scheidel (2009), opines that an unskilled worker could not support a family on his wages alone. He calculates that a family in Egypt needed 354 drachmas annually, but that the male head of household only earned 250. Therefore, he concludes, the wife and children must have worked as well to provide a “bare bones subsistence” for the family (Scheidel 2009).

Bibliography M. Aviam, “‘Kefar Hananya Ware’ Made in Yodefat. Pottery Production at Yodefat in the First Century AD,” in Roman Pottery (2014), 139–46. A. Ben-David, Talmudische Ökonomie (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1974). G. E. M. De Ste. Croix, The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World (Ithaca: Cornell, 1981). S. Dar, “The Agrarian Economy in the Herodian Period,” The World of the Herods (2007), 305–11. M. Daszkiewicz, B. Liesen, and G. Schneider, “Provenance Study of Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine Kitchen Wares from the Theatre-Temple Area of Umm Qais/Gadara, Jordan,” in Roman Pottery (2014), 147–58. D. A. Fiensy, Christian Origins and the Ancient Economy (Eugene: Cascade, 2014a). D. A. Fiensy, “Compensation,” in Oxford Encyclopedia of Bible and Ethics, ed. R. L. Brawley (Oxford: Oxford University, 2014b), 1:111–16. M. I. Finley, The Ancient Economy (Berkeley: University of California, 1999). R. MacMullen, Roman Social Relations (New Haven: Yale University, 1974). Y. Magen, “Jerusalem as a Center of the Stone Vessel Industry During the Second Temple Period,” in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1994), 244–56. N. G. Mankiw, Principles of Macroeconomics (Mason: Southwestern, 2004). M. Rostovtzeff, A Large Estate in Egypt in the Third Century B.C. (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 1922). 221

Education

W. Scheidel, “Real Wages in Early Economies: Evidence for Living Standards from 1800 BCE to 1300 CE.” Princeton/Stanford Working Papers in Classics (2009), http://www.princeton.edu/~pswpc/papers/ authorMZ/scheidel/scheidel.html (accessed March 6, 2012). D. Sperber, Roman Palestine 200–400: Money and Prices (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University, 1974). DAVID A. FIENSY

Related entries: Agriculture; Clothing and Dress; Land, Concept of; People of the Land (ʿAm ha-ʾAreṣ); Stone Vessels; Temple Tax; Tribute and Taxes; Wealth and Poverty.

Education Reliable and specific information about Jewish education during the Second Temple period is sparse. Much of the older scholarly literature focused therefore on the later rabbinic system and transferred this data, whether wholesale or aspects thereof, onto the earlier era (Bacher 1903; Drazin 1940; to a certain extent Hengel 1974: 1.78–83). To avoid anachronisms and the straining of extant evidence, education is best construed in terms of any intellectual instruction within a teacher-pupil relationship. While this would rule out learning a trade, an immense amount of literature and profound erudition in Second Temple Judaism can be regarded as evidence for educational instruction. Some sources give the impression that a father’s obligation to teach his son Torah, which is an injunction from the Torah itself (Deut 6:7; 11:19), was the norm. For instance, some writings suggest that teaching sons to read and write has the intended purpose of learning the Law (T. Levi 13:2; cf. Jub. 47:9; 4 Macc 18:9b–18). Josephus emphasized this motif of the Shema’ Isra’el, claiming that parents educated their own children, especially teaching them to read (and write?; cf. Deut 11:20) in order that they may learn and keep the Law (Ag. Ap. 2.204; 2.257 cf. 1.60). He probably emphasizes familial education because of polemics, intending to contrast it with the Roman aristocratic custom of entrusting the elementary instruction of sons to Greek slaves. However, Josephus augments Moses’ provision with a non-familial context of learning of the Law once a week—the Sabbath (Ag. Ap. 2.175). Josephus also roots the centrality of the Torah in education in Moses’ legislation: he ordained the Law “to be the most excellent and necessary form of instruction (παίδευμα, paideuma)” (Ag. Ap. 2.175 LCL). Not only was it the object of study (precept) but it was also learned by practical means (Ag. Ap. 2.171–173). Although rhetorically motivated, Josephus’ statements in Against Apion on learning the Torah from an early age and through observation within the home seem confirmed by other sources. Instruction in the synagogue is explicitly mentioned on the Theodotus inscription: “built the synagogue ... for the reading of the Law and the teaching of the commandments” (CIIP 1.9). The centrality of the Law in these texts contrasts well with the pride of place occupied by Homer’s epics in Greco-Roman education. For instance, Heraclitus (All. 1.5) advocates instruction in Homer’s teaching from infancy, “from the first dawn of intelligence,” when a child should be “nursed on his teaching” and “swaddled with his epics.” Josephus likewise conceives of an education “from the first dawn of intelligence,” but the object of study is the Jewish laws (Ag. Ap. 2.178 LCL). Josephus insists that this emphasis on the Law distinguishes the Jews from other peoples, even their political officials, who have no cognizance of their laws, but rather employ professional legal experts (Ag. Ap. 2.177). Despite restriction of instruction to familial and synagogal contexts in the texts cited above, other texts speak for the existence of teacher-pupil relationships in which religious content 222

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was bequeathed at different stages and in differing circumstances. It is important to realize the singularity of this phenomenon in Judaism since there was otherwise no specifically religious instruction in the ancient world (Rüpke 2006: 17). However, Scripture was, for religious Jews, not only the source of their sacral and cultic law but also that which governed their social, civil, and political lives. Nonetheless, religious instruction is attested in the numerous teacherpupil relationships mentioned casually in the writings of Josephus. Furthermore, the sectarian Dead Sea Scrolls attest a learning community whose founder was idealized as the “Teacher of Righteousness.” The polemic of this group—most likely against Pharisees—also presupposes widespread halakic instruction among the Dead Sea Scrolls. A family grave on the Mount of Olives probably dating from the Herodian period brought forth three ossuaries with the designation Διδάσκαλος (Didaskalos, teacher) (CIIP I.1 211.212.214). These three “teachers” probably earned their living with this profession, but other than the supposition that they taught in a Semitic language (judging from the atrocious spelling on two of the ossuaries), not much else can be deduced from the inscriptions. What the historian Flavius Josephus writes about his own upbringing is selective and highly tendentious (Life 8–12; Ant. 20.262–265 cf. Cohen 1979: 106–7). He does name a certain Bannus, whom he zealously followed (Life 11), but again the context does not allow any inference about intellectual instruction. Josephus’ historical writings describe four further teachers who were active during Herod’s reign. Samaios and Pollion the Pharisee seem to have had a well-defined group of disciples who refused to take a loyalty oath to Herod (Ant. 15.370). Judas and Matthias are introduced as sophists toward the end of Herod’s life, who attracted many youths (described as οἱ περὶ τὸν Ἰούδαν καὶ Ματθίαν, hoi peri ton Ioudan kai Matthian in Ant. 17.151) to their “exposition of the laws” (J.W. 1.648–650). According to the later account in Jewish Antiquities, 40 young men were arrested after Judas and Matthias prompted their pupils to cut down the golden eagle, erected by Herod, from the Jerusalem Temple precinct. It is not clear whether all 40 belonged directly to the circle of Judas and Matthias, but their teaching of the law, more specifically their interpretation of the prohibition of images, found pupils willing to risk life and limb for their teaching (Ant. 17.157). Not mentioned by Josephus are Hillel and Shammai, who are not to be identified with Samaios and Pollio. It is unclear whether any reliable information about these scholars can be culled from the rabbinical literature. It will suffice to point to their perceived impact; in the 1st century a definable halakic body of teaching attributed to Beth Hillel or Beth Shammai respectively confirms the learning and transmission of this teaching as well as defined halakic boundaries within scholarly circles. Hillel and Shammai and their respective schools are never explicitly identified as Pharisees, but one can cautiously surmise they belonged to this party. Expertise in the laws is presumed for the Pharisees, and the auctor ad Theophilum calls Gamaliel, the teacher of the apostle to the gentiles, a well-respected νομοδιδάσκαλος (nomodidaskalos)—teacher of the Law (Acts 5:34), highlighting not only his learnedness but also his role as preceptor. The Sadducees also actively trained their followers in the halakah: “They lay no claim whatsoever regarding the keeping of anything except the laws; for they consider it virtue to dispute with the teachers of wisdom, which they pursue” (Ant. 18.16). Daube opines, “Evidently they had taken over from the Hellenistic schools of philosophy the ideal of working out any problem by unfettered argument and counter-argument” (1949: 243). However, syntactically and contextually 223

Egypt

Josephus seems to portray them as preferring heated discussion to (blind) acceptance of tradition, in contrast to the Pharisees. Additionally, the Essene Judas had “a considerable number of disciples” for instruction in the Temple (J.W. 1.78 LCL). No statements or discussions on how one actually learns to read and write or on the earliest stages of education are found in the Second Temple literature. The function of the few extant abecedaries and scribal exercises is disputed (on scribal exercises see Carr 2005: 220–221, 242; Hezser 2001: 85–88). However, when one does not limit the search to scribal exercises in the context of “Jewish elementary schools” (so Hezser 2001: 89), these archaeological finds, along with the over 500–900 different hands of the Dead Sea Scrolls, as well as the extensive literature and translation culture in the Second Temple period, confirm that reading and writing was part of the “curriculum.”

Bibliography W. Bacher, “Das alt-jüdische Schulwesen,” JJGL 6 (1903): 48–82. D. M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). D. Daube, “Rabbinic Methods of Interpretation and Hellenistic Rhetoric,” HUCA 22 (1949): 239–64. N. Drazin, History of Jewish Education from 515 B.C.E. to 220 C.E. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1940). J. Rüpke, Die Religion der Römer, 2nd ed. (München: Beck, 2006). LUKE NEUBERT

Related entries: Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Literacy and Reading; Multilingualism; Paul; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Synagogues; Writing.

Egypt The land of Egypt played a formative role in the development of Judaism during the Second Temple period (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). Beginning with the conquests of Alexander of Macedon and continuing into the Roman period, large numbers of Jews migrated to Egypt following political and social tensions in Palestine. While Jews lived in Egypt prior to Alexander, most notably the community established in Elephantine under the Persians, the scope of their settlements, in terms of both population and breadth of locations, greatly increased under Hellenistic and Roman rule. When Alexander arrived in Egypt, he established Alexandria as its capital. In his conquest he brought with him thousands of Jews who settled in the city and the surrounding area. Conflicting accounts make it difficult to know exactly why the Jews came to Egypt under Alexander. According to the Letter of Aristeas they came as prisoners, only to be released later by Ptolemy II (Let. Aris. 12–27). Josephus offers a different view, claiming instead that they came voluntarily (Josephus, Ant. 12.1). Nevertheless, archaeological evidence points to an established Jewish presence under the rule of the early Ptolemies. Jewish dedicatory inscriptions of Jewish buildings from Alexandria (Horbury and Noy 1993: no. 9), Schedia (Horbury and Noy 1993: no. 22), and Xenephyris (Horbury and Noy 1993: no. 24) show how the early migrants settled into the northern Delta region. Jews also established communities in the Fayum, which was

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largely populated with Greeks following the resettlement program of the Ptolemies, as well as in the south of Egypt (e.g. Edfu, Thebes). A number of Jewish writings shed light on Jewish life in Ptolemaic Egypt. Excerpts have been preserved from the writings of Demetrius the Chronographer, Artapanus, and Ezekiel the Tragedian, to name a few. These Jewish Hellenistic authors wrote in Greek and largely relied on Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible (Septuagint). Writing to their fellow Jews, these writers demonstrate the importance of Greek, not Hebrew, to their audiences. The recasting of biblical narratives, especially the exodus narrative, was of particular interest to these Jewish Hellenistic writers. For example, Ezekiel the Tragedian recast the exodus story in the form of a Greek tragedy, and Artapanus made numerous additions to his descriptions of the plagues. Other Jewish writings attesting to the Ptolemaic period include the Letter of Aristeas, which describes the translation of the Mosaic law, and 3 Maccabees, which recounts the persecution of the Jews during the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopater (221–204 bce). In general, the documentary and literary evidence from Egypt supports the view that the Jews of Egypt thrived under the Ptolemies, establishing communities and living according to their ancestral laws. However, life in Egypt changed when the Romans came to power in 30 bce. Whereas Jews were called Hellenes under the Ptolemies and were considered of equal status to the Greeks, under Roman law they were categorized as Egyptians and were required to pay taxes as specified for non-Roman citizens. Several scholars point to this change in status and the tensions arising from the 38 to 41 ce Jewish-Alexandrian conflict (Gambetti 2009) as indications that Jewish life in Roman Egypt was less prosperous than under the Ptolemies. Both Kasher (1985) and Modrzejewski (1995) argue for a narrative of decline, claiming that life for the Jews of Egypt went from bad to worse during the Roman period, culminating in the Jewish rebellion of 115–117 ce. After this rebellion, evidence for a community of Jews in Egypt disappears from the record. Much modern knowledge about the Jews of Egypt under Roman rule comes from literary sources. Philo of Alexandria’s many writings contain information about the community living in Alexandria as well as details about the Jewish-Alexandrian conflict from 38 to 41 ce. As Pearce (2007) has pointed out, Philo also offers a different interpretation of “Egypt,” a land he refers to as the land of the body (Leg. 2.59; Post. 52; Somn. 2.255). His allegorical reading combines his Jewish background with his Greek philosophical training. In Philo’s writings, as with other Jewish writings from Egypt, there is a reimagining of the land of Egypt: it is no longer simply the land of bondage. Other sources for Jewish life in Egypt during the Roman period include the Wisdom of Solomon and the writings of Josephus. The Jews of Egypt living under Ptolemaic and Roman rule established communities and local places of worship throughout Egypt. In some places where larger Jewish populations are attested, such as Alexandria, Oxyrhynchus, and Hermopolis Magna, specific parts of town were known locally as the place where Jews settled. In addition to sections of town, synagogues and other edifices connected with Jews were built. In Egypt three terms were used to refer to Jewish places of worship: proseuche, synagogue, and eucheion. Proseuche is the most popular term and is commonly translated by scholars as synagogue. Dedicatory inscriptions reveal that these edifices were erected throughout Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt, from the north to the south. Several of them mention other rooms or buildings attached to them; however, these sources provide little information about their uses. The precise difference between these three terms remains a matter of debate. 225

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The construction of the Jewish temple in Leontopolis is a prominent feature of Jewish life in Egypt. According to Josephus, in the Ptolemaic period a group of Jews led by Onias IV asked permission of the ruling powers to settle in a region located north of modern day Cairo, later known as the land of Onias. Here Onias built a temple modeled off the one in Jerusalem (Josephus, Ant. 13.72; J.W. 1.33). The temple stood until 73/74 ce when it was destroyed by the Romans following the Jewish war in Palestine. Some scholars have speculated that this may not have been the only temple built in Egypt. The presence of Jewish priests in Edfu and its proximity to the Elephantine temple (destroyed in the Persian period) may suggest that a temple was there as well (Honigman 2009). Others have suggested that Alexandria may have had a Jewish temple. However, to date, no archaeological remains for any Jewish temples in Egypt have been unearthed. The Jewish connection to Egypt was supported by the tradition of Moses and the Israelites’ exodus. This link carried over, e.g., into the need to place Jesus there as a child in the Gospel of Matthew (Matt 2:13–21). Throughout the Hellenistic and Roman periods, Egypt was a popular location for Jewish immigration. As a result, Jews built communities and places of worship, establishing themselves alongside their cultural neighbors. The numerous writings produced in Egypt, including the translation of many sacred texts into Greek (Septuagint), demonstrate the ways in which the Jews negotiated their Hellenistic-Egyptian identity with their Jewish traditions.

Bibliography S. Honigman, “Jewish Communities of Hellenistic Egypt: Different Responses to Different Environments,” in Jewish Identities in Antiquity: Studies in Memory of Menahem Stern, ed. L. I. Levine and D. R. Schwartz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 117–35. S. Pearce, The Land of the Body: Studies in Philo’s Representation of Egypt (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). NATHALIE LACOSTE

Related entries: Alexandria; Alexander the Great; Diadochi; Diaspora; Exodus, Book of; Exodus, The; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Heliopolis; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Ptolemies; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature); Oniads; Tobiads; Tobiah; Maccabees, Third Book of.

ʿEin Feshkha ʿEin Feshkha is an oasis located on the western shore of the Dead Sea, ca. 3 km southeast of Khirbet Qumran. The remains of a main building, an enclosure, and an industrial installation were first excavated by R. de Vaux (1959; cf. Humbert and Chambon 2004: 80–95, 108–9 coordinated with field notes and photographs in Humbert and Chambon 1994). In addition, at the northwest corner of the enclosure there is a fence or boundary wall that extends in the direction of Khirbet Qumran. The soundings along this wall indicate that the area between ʿEin Feshkha and Qumran was used for a date plantation. The wall also indicates that the two sites were shared by the same community. Fragments of stone vessels recovered from excavations indicate the presence of Jewish populations at the site. Based on numismatic finds and pottery similarity with Qumran, de Vaux dated the site to the Qumran II Phase (4 bce–66 ce; de Vaux 1973: 79–82). In 2001 Y. Hirschfeld conducted an excavation that refined this date of the site. According to the numismatic finds recovered 226

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by Hirschfeld, the site was erected in the second half of the 1st century bce. The destruction of the main building dates to the second half of the 1st century ce, i.e., to the First Jewish Revolt. After a short period of resettlement, the site was finally abandoned during the Bar Kokhba revolt (132–135 ce; Hirschfeld 2004). The main building consisted of a courtyard house, with rooms arranged in three areas around of rectangular courtyard (Figure 4.44). In the southern wing, six steps from the remains of a staircase that led up to a second floor were found. The industrial area consists of a system of channels that brought water from a spring north of the site into pools or basins that collected water. The main installation is a square pool with two adjacent cells toward the southeast. A large cylindrical stone was found on the pool floor and two additional stones were found just to the outside. According to De Vaux and Stegemann (1998: 36–37), this area functioned as a tannery for the preparation of parchment used in Qumran. The results of an examination of the site by Zeuner (1960), however, suggest otherwise, and in any case, neither scrolls nor pieces of parchment have been found. Based on excavations conducted at similar installations at winter palaces in Jericho, Netzer suggests that

Figure 4.44  ʿEin Feshkha in the Second Temple period.

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the area was instead used for production of date wine (Netzer 2005). The enclosure consists of a square yard with a row of pillars on the northern side, which was probably used as a stable. The excavations, taken as a whole, thus seem to present a farm that was inhabited by a small group of Jewish settlers and that ceased to exist at the time of First Jewish Revolt. Like Qumran, the site was resettled for a brief time, probably by Roman soldiers, before finally being abandoned at the time of the Bar Kokhba revolt.

Bibliography Y. Hirschfeld, “Excavations at Ein Feshkha, 2001: Final Report,” IEJ 54 (2004): 37–74. J.-B. Humbert and A. Chambon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumran et de Aïn Feshkha I: Album de photographies (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994). E. Netzer “Did any Perfume Industry Exist at Ein Feshkha?” IEJ 55 (2005): 97–100. R. de Vaux, “Foulles de Feshkha,” RB 66 (1959): 225–55. F.-E. Zeuner, “Notes on Qumran,” PEQ 92 (1960): 27–36. BARUCH YUZEFOVSKY

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Coins; Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Revolt, Second Jewish.

ʿEin-Gedi ʿEin-Gedi, the largest oasis on the western shore of the Dead Sea, sits between two river beds: Naḥal David to the north and Naḥal Arugot to the south (see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]). The oasis contains four springs: ʿEin-David, ʿEin-Arugot, ʿEinShulamit, and ʿEin-Gedi that flow with water year-round supplying three million cubic meters of water annually. It is this area that the reference to ʿEin-Gedi in the Joshua 15:62 presupposes; while consistent with the former description, the place name in 1 Samuel 23:29–24:2 is associated with a rocky area inhabited by goats where David is said to have taken refuge from Saul. Its status as an oasis is suggested by the reference to its vineyards in Song of Songs 1:14. Archaeological and literary evidence indicates that ʿEin-Gedi was almost continuously inhabited from the beginning of the 7th century bce until the Early Arab period. From the 7th century bce until the 1st century bce, the settlement at ʿEin-Gedi was situated on Tel Goren, located on the northern bank of Naḥal Arugot. In the Roman and Byzantine period, settlement at ʿEin-Gedi moved to the plain, north of Naḥal Arugot and east of Tel Goren. Archaeologists have uncovered residential quarters from these periods; the most important of the structures discovered was a synagogue built in the 4th century ce. The Babylonians destroyed the Iron Age settlement of ʿEin-Gedi around 600 bce. The site was rebuilt during the Persian period, when multiple large buildings were constructed. The artifacts discovered from this period display an international character: Attic ware manufactured in Greece in the 5th century bce and two seals made of agate depicting Babylonian scenes were discovered in this layer of the site. The Persian period finds of ʿEin-Gedi also yielded stamps bearing the inscription “Yhd,” the name of the province of Judea. Though the settlement of ʿEin-Gedi was destroyed again by invaders around 400 bce. Following a 50-year gap in settlement, the site of ʿEin-Gedi was renewed during the period of the Diadochi, the successors of Alexander the Great. During the reign of John Hyrcanus (135– 104 bce), a fortress covering 3500 square meters was erected on Tel Goren. The reigns of John 228

ʿEin-Gedi

Figure 4.45  Yadin Papyrus 11, line 1: Reference to En Gedi. Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

Hyrcanus and his son Alexander Jannaeus (103–76 bce) saw the arrival of Roman technology for the construction of aqueducts and the making of hydraulic plaster. Consequently, at the end of the 2nd century and the beginning of the 1st century bce, ʿEin-Gedi substantially expanded its irrigated area through an intricate system of plaster-lined pools, aqueducts, and agricultural terraces (Eshel 2009). During the Hasmonean period, the agriculture of ʿEin-Gedi produced dates (see Ben Sira 24:13–15) and perfume-producing plants, primarily balsam. ʿEin-Gedi was destroyed three times during the Roman and Byzantine periods, which caused the village to shift locations four times between the 1st century bce and the 8th century ce. At the end of the Second Temple period Josephus identifies ʿEin-Gedi as a district capital, when the site was of significant economic importance (J.W. 3.54). The central economy of ʿEin-Gedi at this time was the cultivation of the balsam plant and its unguents, as well as the cultivation of a “dry” variety of dates. These dates of Judea were exported to Italy. Among the other discoveries at ʿEinGedi from this period are 35 stone vessels made from Jerusalem stone. Josephus attributes the destruction of ʿEin-Gedi on the eve of Passover 68 ce to the Jewish rebels at Masada (J.W. 4.398–409). His account, however, is challenged by the version of Pliny the Elder, who attributes the destruction of ʿEin-Gedi to the Roman army during the First Revolt (Nat. 12.113). Josephus’ account may be skewed by the larger literary agenda within his narrative (see Eshel 2009). Nevertheless, archaeology indicates that the site was destroyed during the First Revolt. ʿEin-Gedi was rebuilt between the First Revolt and the Bar Kokhba revolt, as made clear from the documents discovered in the Cave of Letters in Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters). A letter from the archive of Babatha, daughter of Simeon, dated 6 May 124 ce (Yadin Papyrus 11), identifies ʿEin-Gedi as an imperial village (Figure 4.45: “Engeddi, village of lord Caesar” [ενγαδοις κωμη κυριου καισαρου, engadois kwmē kuriou kaisarou]), meaning it was a royal holding of the emperor. A Roman garrison was apparently stationed at the site during this period. During the Second Jewish Revolt, ʿEin-Gedi functioned as one of the administrative and military centers for Bar Kokhba and his forces. Roman forces conquered ʿEin-Gedi at the end of the Revolt in 135 ce. Remains of the Jewish rebels and their belongings were discovered in caves near the oasis of ʿEin-Gedi.

Bibliography H. Eshel, Ein Gedi: Oasis and Refuge (Jerusalem: Carta, 2009). B. Mazar, “ʿEin-Gedi,” NEAEH (1993), 2:399–405. E. Stern, “ʿEin-Gedi,” OEANE (1997), 2:222–23. MARC TURNAGE

Related entries: Agriculture; Babatha Archive; Economics in Palestine; Josephus, Writings of; Masada, History of; Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Samuel, Books of; Synagogues. 229

Elders

Elders In the Hebrew Bible the term ‫( זקן‬zāqēn, “elder”) refers to (1) a person of advanced age or (2) a recognized community leader. The establishment of a Jewish council of elders is nowhere delineated in the Hebrew Bible but is simply presupposed, first being used of a group of men who assisted Moses (Exod 3:16–18). Because the elders ruled as a collective body, the term is typically found in the plural. Elders were usually not appointed but were ascribed authority by the people of the community who deemed them worthy of honor based on their heredity, wealth, experience, or knowledge (Harvey 1974; Campbell 1994: 26–28). The elders of Israel functioned in a variety of roles as a representative (1 Macc 7:33; 11:23; 14:28), governing (Ezra 5:5, 9; 6:7, 14), and judicial body (Deut 19:12; 21:3; 22:15) (McKenzie 1959: 523–27; Reviv 1989: 8). The designation “elders” is often associated with a qualifying phrase that designates the level of rule over which the elders exercise leadership (household, city, Jerusalem, Judah, daughter of Zion, priests, people, exile, Israel, land [including Egypt, Moab, Midian, Gilead, Jabesh, and Gebal]). While elders at the village or city level remained somewhat consistent throughout Israel’s history, their role varied at the national level. They lost power under the monarchy, being overshadowed by the king and his officials. In the royal capitals the elders became advisors to the king, taking on a more official capacity (1 Sam 15:30; 30:26; 2 Sam 5:3; 1 Kgs 12:6–8; 20:7). After the exile they regained some of their authority as representatives of the people (Jer 29:1; Ezek 8:1). During this time, however, the judicial role of the elders was somewhat overshadowed by the scribes. Later, some elders, who were most likely the heads of the most influential families, served on the Sanhedrin along with the priestly aristocracy and the scribes (Harvey 1974; Reviv 1989). In the few instances “elders” (‫זקני‬, ziqnēy) are mentioned in the Dead Sea Scrolls, they are listed after the priests and the Levites in the description of the battle order (1QM xiii 1) and after the priests in the seating order (1QS vi 8–9; cf. CD A ix 4). In the Mishnah, the elders are often members of the Sanhedrin (m. Yoma 1:3, 5). As with the Hebrew Bible, the “elders” (πρεσβύτεροοι [presbyteroi] or γερουσία [gerousia]) in the Greek scriptures are designated with a qualifying phrase that denotes the level of authority: elders of the people (1 Macc 7:33; 12:35), elders of Israel (1 Macc 11:23), elders of the country (1 Macc 14:28), elders of the Jews (1 Esdr 6:5, 8, 26; 7:2), and elders of the city (Jdt 6:16; 8:10; 10:6; 13:12). Josephus refers to the elders who are (1) paralleled with other leaders (Ant. 7.78; 8.99), (2) in charge of the rebuilding of the Jerusalem Temple (Ant. 11.105), or (3) referenced as the translators of the Septuagint (Ant. 12.39, 56–57, 86). In the New Testament, “elders” (πρεσβύτεροι, presbyteroi) can refer to an old person but more commonly denotes officials in both Judaism and the church (Merkle 2003). In the Gospels (cf. Matt 26:57; 27:1, 3, 12, 20, 21; 28:12; Mark 14:43, 53; Luke 22:52, 56) and the beginning and end of Acts (e.g. 4:5, 8, 23; 5:21; 6:12; 22:5; 25:15), the term denotes lay leaders of the Sanhedrin. The central ten occurrences in Acts (in chs. 11–21), the Pastoral Epistles (1 Tim 5:17, 19; Titus 1:5), James 5:14, and 1 Peter 5:1, 5 refer to church elders. In 2 John 1:1 and 3 John 1:1 “elder” is an honorary title (not a title of an office), and in Revelation it refers to the heavenly beings in John’s vision (Rev 4:4, 10; 5:5, 6, 8, 11, 14; 7:11, 13; 11:16; 14:3; 19:4).

Bibliography R. A. Campbell, The Elders: Seniority within Earliest Christianity, SNTW (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994). A. E. Harvey, “Elders,” JTS 25 (1974): 318–32.

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J. L. McKenzie, “The Elders in the Old Testament,” Bib 40 (1959): 522–40. B. L. Merkle, The Elder and Overseer: One Office in the Early Church, StBL 57 (New York: Peter Lang, 2003). H. Reviv, The Elders in Ancient Israel: A Study of a Biblical Institution, trans. L. Plitmann (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1989). BENJAMIN L. MERKLE

Related entries: Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; LukeActs; Priesthood; Revelation, Book of; Scribes and Scribalism.

Election The concept of “election,” in both the Hebrew Bible and further writings from the Second Temple period, denotes Israel’s self-understanding as a specially chosen people from among the nations of the world. At times, it could also refer to a group within Israel. To understand the diverse concepts of election in Second Temple Judaism, one must grasp the historical immanence of election by the God of Israel and the retrospective nature of claims about it. These two features are common to the election of Israel as a whole and to the election of part of Israel. The modern disenchantment of the world in the West has fostered interpretations of ancient Jewish claims of election as purely speculative and esoteric. But in their contexts, these claims were ways of discerning present sociopolitical relationships and hierarchies of power in light of sprawling past developments, always with related hopes for the future. In other words, in Second Temple Judaism election was a way of “reading history,” naming the indelible mark of a certain Israelite past on a Jewish present with corresponding future ramifications. Election by God, then, was not conceived as the work of a watchmaker who simply set Israelite history ticking automatically nor that of an ethereal deity that sporadically intervened in Jewish life. Election was instead God’s immanent shaping of the intricate differentiation between Israel and gentiles, as well as between one part of Israel and others, manifest over time in Jewish life, memory, and hope. The Election of Israel.  Among the writings taking canonical shape during early in the Second Temple period, the formation of Israel as a distinguishable people among others was named and remembered as the choosing of Israel’s God, who is also the God of all creation. Beginning with Abraham and then within his household, Israel’s God had been shaping the people into the contoured being and history it had acquired. God’s election had thus excluded some from Abraham’s future of promise in the children of Israel (e.g. Ishmael/Ishmaelites, Esau/Edomites, most of the ten northern tribes per, e.g., Ps 78:67–68), forming the rest as the Israel that had come to be, a people that in time had included adoptees from among the gentiles such as Rahab and Ruth, as well as their descendants. Threatened by a future of assimilation by other peoples and their gods, and so with forgetting the God of their ancestors, Israel was told, “You are a people holy to YHWH your God; YHWH your God has chosen (‫בחר‬, bḥr) you of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be a people of treasured possession for himself” (Deut 7:6). That the shape of Israel was fundamentally a matter of its God’s election was expressed in its being unlike what human beings and their rulers are apt to prize: it was the most unimpressive in size (Deut 7:7). God’s election was thus a matter of God’s own love of Israel, and faithfulness to the promise God had made to Israel’s early

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ancestors (Deut 7:8), particularly Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. So powerful and unalterable was what had happened between Israel’s God and those ancestors that it would forever shape Israel’s life, which was thus the incarnate remembrance of those ancestors and a source of promise for the whole world. Consequently, later writings appeal to God’s mercy on the basis of his promises to Israel’s chosen ancestors, often highlighting their obedience when what remains of Israel bears the marks of a history of unfaithfulness and injustice (Neh 9; 2 Bar. 84; cf. Wis 18:22– 24; Josephus, Ant. 11.5.7). In some cases the ancestors’ obedience is especially emphasized (Sir 44:19–23; Jub. 11:15–16; Pr Man 8), even as the basis of God’s election (LAB 18:5). The ground of this mercy can also be the name of God, which, in spite of Israel’s sin, has come to be inextricably related to Israel through its history of deliverance, the city of Jerusalem, and the Jerusalem Temple there, as in Daniel 9 (“For your own sake my God, because your city and your people are called by your name,” v. 19; 2 Chr 6). God’s election of Israel is expressed in its remaining God’s people even when it sins (Wis 15:2). Minimally, election means that God’s commitment to Israel is too deep and historic to allow Israel to go extinct as other peoples in its memory had (Isa 1:9; Jer 31–33; Sir 47:22; cf. CD A i 4–5; 4Q171 1–10 ii 13–16), despite the attempts of rulers like Antiochus IV Epiphanes to accomplish exactly that (1 Macc 1:41–42; cf. 7:37; 2 Macc 1:24–29). More substantively, election can mean God’s forming Israel to be a people of justice (Gen 18:19; Deut 4:35–40; in a sinful world in Wis 12:18–22; 3:7–9; 1Q34bis; 1QM x 9–11), in and through whom all the world will be blessed by the creator (Isa 2:1–4; 14:1–2; Wis 18:4; cf. Weinfeld 2005: 254). That a particular future is intrinsic to the concept of election is the reason it is closely associated with covenant, which elaborates the memory and terms of the electing God’s promises as they have unfolded and will unfold. The Election of Part of Israel.  Much as the God of Israel has elected Israel among other peoples, God has chosen part of the whole of Israel. One sense of this election is the preservation of part of Israel, the surviving remnant (‫שאר‬, šʾr), through several generations of destruction and assimilation (Isa 10–11; 46:3; Jer 50:20; Zech 8; 4 Ezra 12:34). This remnant is all that is left of Israel (Mermelstein 2014: 169). Another, related sense is the election of part of Israel amidst other, still-living parts of Israel, such as a remnant of Israelites loyal to YHWH (Rom 11:3–5; cf. 1 Kgs 19:18). The most widespread and renowned case of this election of part of Israel in Second Temple Judaism is God’s choosing David as king, which entails God’s choosing a dynasty of David’s descendants over generations. The impact and remembrance of David’s reign in Israel, and the influence of Davidic rulers, were such that even in exile, extremely diverse Jewish sources placed their hopes for the end of exile and the fulfillment of their God’s promises in a final Davidic king, the chosen of the chosen (Ps 89; Isa 9:7; 16:5; Jer 33; Ezek 34; Zech 12; Pss. Sol. 17; 4Q252 v 2–5; cf. 1 En. 61). An analogous divine election or exaltation of part of Israel (Kaminsky 2016: 98) attaches to David’s tribe Judah (Gen 49:10; 1 Chr 28:4, Ps 78:67–68; Zech 2:12), the tribe of Levi for the priesthood (Deut 18:5), other rulers including a gentile one like Cyrus (Isa 44:28–45:13), and the place of Jerusalem (2 Chr 6:38; Zech 2:12, Tob 1:4; cf. the place “your God will choose” throughout Deuteronomy). The notion of election is also emphasized in the Enochic Apocalypse of Weeks to denote the author’s present community to whom divine revelation has been given (1 En. 93:9–10).

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While God chooses these parts of Israel over others, and some others are thereby diminished (e.g. the line of Saul, the tribe of Benjamin), this election of part of Israel is putatively for the sake of all Israel (Willi 1994: 155), as Paul and some other New Testament writers also teach regarding the election of Jesus as Davidic king and the election of his Jewish and non-Jewish followers as the elect of the elect (Rom 9–11; cf. Mark 13:22–26). The New Testament is somewhat unusual in its claims that God’s chosen is exalted only as the humiliated one (e.g. Mark 8:31–38; 1 Pet 2:21–25), but compare Deuteronomy 7:7. The testimony of Qumran is ambiguous with respect to the relation between the elect and the rest of Israel (Schiffman 2010: 362–63, 380). Many writings seem to claim that God has chosen the Qumran community to the final exclusion of the rest of Israel (4QpPsa [=4Q171] 1–10 iii 9–13; 1QS ii 4b–5, 10; 1QHa vii 17b–19a), while others imply that the rest of Israel will be restored, albeit as they join the chosen Qumran remnant (1QSa i 1–5; 1QHa xiv 7b–9).

Bibliography J. S. Kaminsky, Yet I Loved Jacob: Reclaiming the Biblical Concept of Election (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2016, repr. 2007). M. Weinfeld, Normative and Sectarian Judaism in the Second Temple Period (London: T&T Clark, 2005). T. Willi, “Late Persian Judaism and Its Conception of an Integral Israel,” in Second Temple Studies 2: Temple Community in the Persian Period, ed. T. C. Eskenazi and K. Richards, JSOTSup 175 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 146–62. TOMMY GIVENS

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Conversion and Proselytism; Elect of God (4Q534–536); Faith and Faithfulness; Grace (Ḥesed); Jesus of Nazareth; Kingship in Ancient Israel.

Elephantine and Elephantine Papyri Elephantine is an island located just south of the first cataract along the Nile River on the border between Upper Egypt and Nubia (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). Because of its strategic location, it served as an important administrative and military center throughout antiquity. During the 6th–5th centuries bce (and likely well into the 4th cent.), Elephantine was the site of a Jewish military colony. Most of what is known about this colony derives from the discovery there of a trove of 89 Aramaic papyri, many of which are preserved almost completely intact. In addition, the island has yielded other papyri and ostraca from a wide range of historical periods and written in a number of different languages (Porten, Farber, Martin, Vittman, MacCoull, and Clackson 2011: 1–28). The papyri cover a variety of genres, with the two most common being letters (35 in total) and legal contracts (43). Also included among the papyri are one literary text, the Tale of Ahiqar, as well as an Aramaic translation of the Behistun inscription of Darius the Great. Many of the contracts and letters can be grouped into one of three discrete archives: two private family archives and one communal archive. The family archive of Mibtahiah daughter of Mahseiah is particularly interesting as it provides a window into the life of a Jewish woman of means. The communal archive includes ten letters documenting the activities of a priest named Yedaniah son of Gemariah, a community leader during the last two decades of the 5th century bce (Porten, Farber, Martin, Vittman, MacCoull, and Clackson 2011: 78–82).

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Elephantine and Elephantine Papyri

Figure 4.46  The recto of a letter (TAD A4.7), in which the leaders of Elephantine’s Jewish community request permission from the Persian governor to rebuild their destroyed temple. (Dated to 25 November 407 bce.)

The Elephantine Jewish community had its own temple to YHW (the most common spelling for the god of Israel among the papyri) wherein animal sacrifices were performed. According to a letter (TAD A4.7; Figure 4.46) that Yedaniah wrote in 407 bce to Bagohi, the Persian governor of Yehud (= Judea), the temple predated Cambyses’ establishment of Persian control over Egypt in 525 bce. In this letter Yedaniah was seeking permission and assistance in rebuilding the temple, as it had been destroyed three years earlier by the priests of the Egyptian god Khnum in collaboration with the local Persian administrator. This temple would seemingly have defied the Deuteronomistic imperative for animal sacrifices to be offered exclusively in Jerusalem (Botta 2009: 14–16). Even so, Yedaniah notes that the community had previously attempted to contact the high priest in Jerusalem for assistance with the rebuilding of their temple and had received no response. Subsequent documents (TAD A4.9–10) indicate that the temple was rebuilt, but that animal sacrifices were no longer to be offered there (Porten, Farber, Martin, Vittman, MacCoull, and Clackson 2011: 150–53). Other papyri have raised questions about the community’s commitment to monotheism. One accounting list (TAD C3.15) records the cash donations made by members of the community on behalf of three deities: YHW, Eshum-bethel, and Anat-bethel. In another document (TAD B7.3) a member of the Jewish garrison swears an oath by the deity Anat-YHW, suggesting a belief that the god of Israel had a consort (Grabbe 2013: 127–28). 234

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In another much-discussed text, a letter dating to 419/8 bce (TAD A4.1), a figure named Hananiah, who appears to be an outsider to the colony, instructs Yedaniah and his colleagues on the observance of the Festivals of Passover and of Unleavened Bread. The letter, sometimes referred to as the Passover Papyrus, is rather brief and quite fragmentary, and so one can only speculate as to what circumstances prompted its dispatch. The connections between the papyri and the legal traditions of the ancient Near East are numerous (see Yaron 1961; Gross 2008; Botta 2009), but one detail worth noting is that Elephantine marriage contracts granted the right to initiate divorce to both the husband and the wife. Though previously this right had been thought to belong exclusively to Jewish husbands, there are additional indications within Second Temple literature suggesting that the practice existed (Grabbe 2013: 132–33).

Bibliography A. F. Botta, The Aramaic and Egyptian Legal Traditions at Elephantine, LSTS 64 (London: T&T Clark, 2009). L. L. Grabbe, “Elephantine and the Torah,” in In the Shadow of Bezalel: Aramaic, Biblical, and Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Bezalel Porten, ed. A. F. Botta, CHANE 60 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 125–35. A. D. Gross, Continuity and Innovation in the Aramaic Legal Tradition, JSJSup 128 (Leiden: Brill, 2008). ANDREW D. GROSS

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Babatha Archive; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Festivals and Holy Days; Marriage and Divorce; Military, Jews in the; Oaths and Vows.

Elijah The Hebrew Bible presents Elijah as the most important prophetic figure in Israel during the 9th century bce. Various stories about his life and activity are collected in the narratives of 1 Kings 17–2 Kings 2. Elijah is represented in these narratives as a devout defender of the cult of YHWH, especially against the cult of Baal tolerated by the ruling royal dynasty, the Omrides. This is exemplified by the vivid story of his conflict with the priests of Baal on the Carmel (1 Kgs 18:20–46). The stories stress Elijah’s personal spiritual connections with God and establish a parallel between his figure and that of Moses (1 Kgs 19:9–14). The narrative presents him as a wonder-maker (1 Kgs 17:8–24) and recounts his ascension into heavens (2 Kgs 2:1–12). Based on this detail, the Book of Malachi prophesies Elijah’s end-time return, before the coming day of the Lord (Mal 3:23–24; Böttrich, Ego, and Eißler 2013: 12–22). In Second Temple Jewish literature the transfer of Elijah to heaven attracted interest. In the early 2nd century bce the Enochic Animal Apocalypse and the Apocalypse of Weeks mention his ascent (1 Enoch 89:52; 93:8). Somewhat later, 1 Maccabees interprets his ascension as a reward for his zeal on behalf of the Torah (1 Macc 2:58). These writings were presenting Elijah as an ideal figure of the past; the prophet’s heavenly reward at the end of his life no doubt underscored him as an example for their respective audiences to follow. Other sources—from the first half of the 2nd century bce and later—stress, repeatedly, the eschatological role of Elijah. Ben Sira alludes to and reworks the Malachi prophecy that God will send Elijah “before the great and terrible day of the Lord” (Mal 4:5–6): Elijah is identified as the one who will restore the tribes of Israel before the day of the Lord (Sir 48:10–11;

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cf. Mal 4:6; Böttrich, Ego, and Eißler 2013: 23–29). Some fragmentary writings from the Qumran library also share this interest. The Aramaic 4Q558 (4QpapVisionb ar 51 ii 4) relates that God will send Elijah before the coming of someone or something. In this context the fragments might be referring to the cosmic events of the day of judgment as a setting for Elijah’s reappearance. A Hebrew composition, 4Q521 (4QMessianic Apocalypse 2 ii 12–14), has a detailed account about a positive eschatological protagonist. His name is not preserved on the extant fragments, but the text’s connections with Malachi 4:5–6 suggests a link between this passage and Elijah (Xeravits 2003: 105). Moreover, it is probable that this protagonist is identified with an anointed one also mentioned in the text. Elijah, then, likely appears in 4Q521 as an eschatological authority. Similarly, in the New Testament, allusions to Elijah mark the coming of the eschatological age: some passages associate John the Baptist (Luke 1:17) or Jesus (Mark 9:11–13 // Matt 17:12–13; Matt 11:14; Mark 8:28 // Matt 16:14, Luke 9:19; cf. Luke 4:26) with the figure of Elijah, and together with Moses he appears during the transfiguration of Jesus (Mark 9:4 // Matt 17:3–4, Luke 9:30; cf. Öhler; Böttrich, Ego, and Eißler 2013: 78–124). Similar eschatological connections to Elijah are related in the book of 4 Ezra (cf. 6:26—an allusion to his being taken up; 7:109). In the late 1st century ce, the figure of Elijah is comprehensively expounded by Josephus (Ant. 8–9). For him, Elijah was, again, a preeminent character of the past and a devout leader with uncompromising piety (Feldman 1998). Finally, the Lives of the Prophets tells of miracles that accompanied Elijah’s birth, which recall stories about other great figures such as Noah (cf. 1QGenesis Apocryphon ii–v and 1 En. 106–107) or Melchizedek in 2 Enoch 71 (Liv. Pro. 21; cf. Böttrich, Ego, and Eißler 2013).

Bibliography C. Böttrich, B. Ego, and F. Eißler, Elia und andere Propheten in Judentum, Christentum und Islam, JCI 5 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2013). L. H. Feldman, Studies in Josephus’ Rewritten Bible, JSJSup 58 (Leiden: Brill, 1998). M. Öhler, Elia im Neuen Testament, BZNW 88 (Berlin: De Gruyter 1997). GÉZA G. XERAVITS

Related entries: Ascent into Heaven; Birth, Miraculous; Eschatology; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Kings, Books of; Minor Prophets; Prophets, Texts Associated with; Prophecy; Restoration.

Elisha The Hebrew Bible presents Elisha as the prophetic successor of Elijah in the late 9th century bce. A narrative cycle is formed around his figure, mostly in 2 Kings 2–9 and 13. In these stories Elisha is involved in the contemporary politics of Israel; however, he is characterized mainly as a doer of miracles. The miracles attributed to Elisha affect the forces of the nature (2 Kgs 2:13–14, 19–22; 6:1–7), exert control over health and sickness (2 Kgs 4:38–41; 5:1–27), and involve the miraculous feeding of a multitude (2 Kgs 4:42–44). In the narrative Elisha’s activity also extends to the social and political realm (2 Kgs 4:1–7; 6:8–23). Finally, he masters life and death (2 Kgs 2:23–25; 4:8–37) and even revives a dead person (2 Kgs 13:20–21). As in the case of Elijah, the figure of Elisha is reminiscent of Moses, as is especially evident in the narrative about Elijah’s transfer of prophetic power to him and in his crossing of the Jordan (2 Kgs 2:13–14).

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Early Jewish authors—compared to the interest for his mentor and predecessor Elijah—do not pay much attention to the figure of Elisha. In contrast, in his great encomium, the Praise of the Ancestors, Ben Sira emphasizes Elisha’s miracle activity and presents him as performing “twice as many signs” as Elijah (Sir 48:12). Ben Sira also underlines his uncompromising political steadfastness and recalls that his wonders were even effective after his death (Sir 48:13–14; Koskenniemi 2005: 37–39). Among the works from the Qumran library, the Damascus Document contains an ambiguous reference to something that Elisha said to his servant Gehazi (CD viii 20). Another Hebrew composition dated paleographically to the second half of the 1st century bce, 4Q481a, survives in three tiny fragments and is labeled as 4QApocryphon of Elisha. The second fragment provides a paraphrase of 2 Kings 2:14–16, whereas in fragment 3 Elisha is presumably told to lament over someone, probably over Elijah (A. Feldman 2015: 151–55). The New Testament displays only one direct reference to Elisha. In Luke 4:27 Jesus alludes to the healing of Na’aman (2 Kgs 5:1–19) during his sermon in the synagogue of Nazareth, provoking his audience to an angry reaction. Scholars also argue that the pericope of the feeding the 5,000 in Mark 6:30–44 and parallel versions is shaped with reference to 2 Kings 4:42–44 (e.g. Yarbro Collins 2007: 319–20). Two late 1st century ce sources pay more attention to the figure of Elisha. Josephus, in book 9 of the Jewish Antiquities, seems to appreciate him much more than he does Elijah. Elisha is displayed as a man of virtues, a compassionate personality, and Josephus skips elements that are unfavorable to him (as, e.g., 2 Kgs 2:23–24; Feldman 1998: 334–47; Koskenniemi 2005: 264– 77). Finally, the Lives of the Prophets emphasizes the miraculous aspects of Elisha’s activity (Liv. Pro. 22; Xeravits 2008). Similarly to what is said about Elijah, the chapter begins with a miracle accompanying his birth. The main part of the story about Elisha enumerates the prophet’s miracles, in a slightly rearranged order compared to the biblical Elisha cycle. Structurally, this chapter culminates in the elements relating to the saving of life and to resurrection.

Bibliography L. H. Feldman, Studies in Josephus’ Rewritten Bible, JSJSup 58 (Leiden: Brill, 1998). G. G. Xeravits, “Remarks on the Miracles of Elisha in the Lives of the Prophets 22:5–20,” in With Wisdom as a Robe: Qumran and Other Jewish Studies in Honour of Ida Fröhlich, ed. K. D. Dobos and M. Köszeghy, HBM 21 (Sheffield: Phoenix Press, 2008), 360–64. GÉZA G. XERAVITS

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Kings, Books of; Miracles and Miracle Workers; Prophets, Texts associated with; Prophecy.

Emperor Cult Worship of the emperor was an important feature of life throughout the duration of the Roman Empire, although significant precedents from the Hellenistic east are known following the death of Alexander the Great in 323 bce and the breakup of his empire. The deification of Julius Caesar by the Roman senate in 42 bce was foundational to the establishment of the Imperial cultus, which initially focused on the Julio-Claudian emperors and their families until the death of Nero in 68 ce, and then, following the year of upheaval in 69 ce, enjoyed a resurgence with the Flavian emperors 237

Emperor Cult

Vespasian and Titus. Thus, Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars describes Julius Caesar, Augustus, Claudius, Vespasian, and Titus all as “deified” emperors. A subsequent flourishing of the Imperial cult was focused on the adoptive emperors Nerva (96–98 ce), Trajan (98–117 ce), Hadrian (117–138 ce), Antoninus Pius (138–161 ce), and Marcus Aurelius (161–180 ce). The enrollment of an emperor, or even members of his family, among the gods after their death, an action described as apotheosis, was primarily recognition of a virtuous life lived in service of the ideals of the Roman state. In the main, the emperor cult was much more acceptable in the eastern half of the empire than it was in the west or in Italy and Rome itself. Thus, at various places throughout the empire, but especially in cities in the east, temples were erected, altars consecrated, and priesthoods established to facilitate the worship of the emperor as a divine being whose power was absolute and whose patronage was indispensable for peace and stability. In fact, to speak of “the emperor cult” is somewhat misleading, for there was no central organization as such, and no unified code of cultic practices that operated across the empire; in this sense it is more accurate to speak of “emperor cults” in the plural. Expressions of the Imperial cult varied from place to place and were often integrated with religious practices in honor of local deities. At the same time, the emperor cult can also be viewed as an important political instrument that served as a mechanism whereby allegiance to the Roman state was encouraged and promoted. To what extent participation in the rituals and practices associated with the cult were indicative of religious belief in the divinity of the emperor or his family is much more difficult to judge, and the subject of much scholarly debate since the publication of Adolf Deissmann’s Light from the Ancient East in 1908. Since 1984 a number of important scholarly investigations into the significance of the emperor cult have been published. The Roman Imperial cult continues to be an important feature of Roman religion against which to assess the writings of Jews and Christians during the Second Temple period. Discussion of how the cult affected Jews in the Roman world has tended to focus on two incidents, both of them associated with the emperor Gaius (37–41 ce). The first concerned the Jews of Alexandria who were forced into a difficult position when images of the emperor Gaius were placed in synagogues within the city by the duplicitous Egyptian governor Flaccus in 38 ce (the incident was discussed by Philo, Flaccus 41–52, and Legat. 132–154). The second concerned Gaius’ attempt to place his image in the Jewish Jerusalem Temple, which is recounted in Josephus (J.W. 2.184–203; Ant. 18.261–309). Both incidents were seen as a violation of the Mosaic Law prohibiting the worship of false gods (Exod 20:3–5; Deut 5:7–9). The letters of Paul to the various churches with which he had contact stand as one of the most important places where the emperor cult features in recent investigations by New Testament scholars (Hardin 2008: 23–48, 85–155; Horsley 1997; Barclay 2011: 359–86, and Wright 2013: 1307–19 are all cases in point and illustrate that the debate is ongoing). The Gospel of John has also been a focus for discussion, particularly as it has been recently interpreted as engaged in a negotiation with the aims and ideals of the Roman Empire, including the emperor cult (Carter 2008: 176–204, 361–84). Other Jewish and Christian documents from the Second Temple period also demonstrate the challenge presented by the Imperial cult. A case in point is Ascension of Isaiah 4 where the reign of the demonic figure Beliar (a cipher for the matricidal Nero redivivus) is described and the writer says “he will set up his image before him in every city” (4:11). Finally, it is worth noting that much of the evidence for modern knowledge of how the Roman Imperial cult functioned in the Second Temple period is based on surviving inscriptions and 238

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coins. Most of the numismatic discussion has tended to concentrate on Roman coinage produced by the official Imperial mints, rather than on locally produced provincial coins issued by an individual moneyer or a specific city or region. Both types of coins provide hints about the significance of the Imperial cultus in the lives of the people living at the time. A good example of the Imperial coinage associated with the emperor Claudius are the silver cistophorii issued by the city of Ephesus in Asia Minor in 50–51 ce, which potentially shed important light on Paul’s conflict with the city authorities recorded in Acts 19:23–41. Perhaps the time has now come for a concentrated effort on the part of scholars of the Second Temple period to examine the provincial coinage more closely, for they may provide the best chance of discovering the kind of beliefs, ideas, and practices being promulgated in local areas—such as the city of Philippi, so closely associated with the remarkable hymn of Philippians 2:6–11, which has served as a key source of Christological discussion for two millennia.

Bibliography J. Barclay, Pauline Churches and Diaspora Jews, WUNT 1.275 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). J. Brodd and J. L. Reed, eds., Rome and Religion: A Cross-Disciplinary Dialogue on the Imperial Cult (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011). W. Carter, John and Empire: Initial Explorations (New York: T&T Clark, 2008). S. Friesen, Twice Neokoros: Ephesus, Asia, and the Cult of the Flavian Imperial Family (Leiden: Brill, 1993). J. Hardin, Galatians and the Imperial Cult, WUNT 2.237 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). D. G. Horrell, “The Imperial Cult and the New Testament,” JSNT 27.3 (2005): 251–373. R. Horsley, Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1997). N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God (London: SPCK, 2013). LARRY KREITZER

Related entries: Belial; Decalogue; Demons and Exorcism; Idols and Images; Imperial Cult, Jews and the; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Persecution, Religious; Roman Emperors; Satan and Related Figures.

Enoch Enoch appears as the seventh of the antediluvian patriarchs in the priestly genealogy of Genesis 5. Though references to Enoch in the Hebrew Scriptures are few and very brief (Gen 5:18–19, 21–24; cf. 1 Chr 1:3), they contain several intriguing details that would be subsequently developed in Second Temple literature. The 365 years recorded for Enoch’s life (Gen 5:23), for instance, are by far the fewest among the patriarchs mentioned before the flood narrative. Also, unlike the other figures in the genealogy, there is no explicit mention of Enoch’s death. Instead, one reads in Genesis 5:25, “Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took (‫לקח‬, lqḥ) him.” Creative Jewish interpreters of the Second Temple era expanded upon these enigmatic statements. While some preserved the text’s ambiguity (Gen 5:25 LXX; Sir 44:16; 49:14), others read the text as referring to Enoch’s death (Tg Onq. and Gen. Rab. to Gen 5:25), while yet others regarded Enoch as a righteous person who did not die, but ascended into God’s presence, interacted with angels, and received divine revelation (1 En. 12:1; 71:1–4, 5–16; 87:3–4; Jub. 4:23; Heb 11:5; cf. Tg. Ps.-J. and Tg. Neof.). The literature also depicts Enoch as a scribe (1 En. 12:3–4; 15:1; Book of Giants 4Q203 8.4 and 2 ii [+ 6–12] 14; cf. further Jub. 4:17–19, 23; 1 En. 239

Enoch

Figure 4.47  Enoch “the scribe” on fol. 1r in Gunda Gunde Ms. 151 (15th century).

72:1; 83:2; 2 En. 22:11–12) and as an example of virtue for later generations to imitate (cf. Sir 44:16; Philo, Abr. 17–24; Heb 11:5). Enoch seems to have attained angelic or even divinized status in some texts (1 En. 12:1–4; 71–72; 2 En. 22:9–10). Enoch as Recipient of Revelation.  The primary way that Enoch is depicted in early Jewish literature is as a recipient and, hence, as an agent of divinely revealed wisdom. Enoch is said to have been privy to revelation regarding the astronomical order and the future of humankind, and a number of revelatory texts purporting to have been written by Enoch were composed between the 3rd century bce and the 1st century ce (and afterward). The portrayal of Enoch as a witness to the workings of the cosmos is fundamental to one of the earliest Enochic texts, Astronomical Book (1 En. 72–82), but figures as well in other works (1 En. 34:1–36:4; Jub. 4:17). According to Pseudo-Eupolemus, it was Enoch, not the Egyptians, who first discovered astronomy (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.17.8). Most prominent among Enoch’s revelations was information regarding the eschatological destiny of humankind. In the 3rd-century bce Book of Watchers (1 En. 1–36), Enoch is guided by an angel on a tour of the mythical world in which he sees the garden of Eden, the tree of life,

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the throne of God, and the holding chambers for the dead, sites which assure him and readers of a coming judgment (1 En. 17–36). In the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 85–90) Enoch sees the history of humankind from the creation of Adam to the final judgment told in allegorical fashion (cf. further the Apocalypse of Weeks in 1 En. 93:1–10; 91:10–17). Other Enochic works, such as the Epistle of Enoch (1 En. 92–105), emphasize the eschatological judgment, as do Enochic traditions outside of the Enochic corpus (e.g. Jub. 4:18–19, 23). Enoch as Scribe.  Related to Enoch’s literary activity is the portrayal of Enoch as a scribe in several texts (see Figure 4.47). Not only do these texts depict Enoch as one who engages in reading and writing (1 En. 13:4; 81:1), Enoch is explicitly referred to by the title “scribe” (1 En. 12:4; 92:1). Enoch is also alleged to be the author of the writings that bear his name (1 En. 82:1; 92:1; Jub. 4:17–22). According to Jubilees, Enoch was the first to learn writing (Jub. 4:17) and continues to engage in scribal activity in the garden of Eden, where he records the deeds of humans as a witness against them for the day of judgment (Jub. 4:23–24; 10:17). Enoch as Moral Example. The extraordinary claims about Enoch in biblical and related literature, early interpreters reasoned, must indicate that the patriarch was of singular moral quality. Jubilees concludes that Enoch’s righteousness surpassed even that of Noah (Jub. 10:17). The Book of Hebrews presents Enoch as an example of faith (Heb 11:5). Somewhat tempered, perhaps, though still positive, is the tradition preserved by Ben Sira and Philo that Enoch was an example of repentance (Sir 44:16; Philo, Abr. 17; see VanderKam 1995: 105–6, 150–51). Divinization of Enoch. The loftiest claim regarding Enoch from the Second Temple period appears in the Book of Parables (1 En. 37–71), which most scholars date near the turn of the Common Era. In this work Enoch encounters a heavenly figure who is referred to alternately as the “Chosen One,” “Anointed One,” “Righteous One,” and “Son of Man.” In a surprising turn at the end of the work, Enoch learns that it is he who is this heavenly “Son of Man” (1 En. 71:14; Orlov 2007). In another work that may have been composed as early as the 1st century ce, 2 Enoch, Enoch ascends to the seventh heaven where his body is transformed so that he becomes like one of the “glorious ones” (2 En. 22:9–10). Such beliefs about Enoch’s heavenly character anticipate the later identification of Enoch with Metatron, God’s heavenly vice-regent (see 3 Enoch; cf. Tg. Ps-J. to Gen 5:24, b. Ḥag. 15a; Orlov 2008; Alexander 1998). Enoch and the Sumerian King List.  Scholars have long noted points of contact between the early Enoch traditions and the Sumerian King List(s). The similarities are most notable between Enoch and the figure Enemeduranki, both of whom are featured as the seventh member of their respective lists. In addition, both figures are associated with the sun, are granted access to the divine assembly, and receive revelation (VanderKam 1984: 33–51; Kvanvig 1988: 224–36).

Bibliography P. S. Alexander, “From Son of Adam to Second God: Transformations of the Biblical Enoch,” Biblical Figures outside the Bible (1998), 87–122. H. S. Kvanvig, Roots of Apocalyptic: The Mesopotamian Background of the Enoch Figure and of the Son of Man, WMANT 61 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1988).

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A. A. Orlov, “Roles and Titles of the Seventh Antediluvian Hero in the Parables of Enoch: A Departure from the Traditional Pattern?” Enoch and the Messiah Son of Man (2007), 110–36. RYAN E. STOKES

Related entries: Ascent into Heaven; Genealogies; Genesis, Book of; Prophets, Texts Associated with; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Enochic Circles.

Enochic Circles By “Enoch circles” scholars denote the community or communities behind the composition of early Enoch literature that can be associated with the Second Temple period. There is some consensus today among specialists that the Enoch texts testify to the existence of a “distinctive” variety of apocalyptic Judaism (Sacchi 1996; Boccaccini 1998; Jackson 2004; Collins 2007b, 2011). More difficult to determine is the identification of the sociological group (or groups) who produced such literature. While it is “unwarranted and misleading” to treat texts as if they correspond to separate groups (Goodman 2000: 202), “texts are historical artifacts, created in time and place, by real human people” (Nickelsburg 2001: 2). Since texts attributed to Enoch were composed throughout the Second Temple period (from the end of the 4th cent. bce to the 1st cent. ce) and most of them of them refer to the previous ones, it seems reasonable to infer that where there is “a family of texts,” there was also a “family of people” (Kvanvig 2005: 81). It is therefore appropriate to speak of a “community or communities who believed that their possession of the divinely given wisdom contained in the Enochic texts, constituted them as the eschatological community of the chosen, who are awaiting the judgment and the consummation of the end time” (Nickelsburg 2001: 64). The texts themselves, through the repeated use of collective terms, seem to indicate a growing consciousness of community. The Book of Watchers refers to “the plant of righteousness” (1 En. 10:16), and the Apocalypse of Weeks to “the chosen righteous from the chosen plant of righteousness” (93:10). In the Animal Apocalypse there are “lambs, whose eyes were opened” (90:6). In the Book of Parables it is said that the kings and the mighty ones “persecute the houses of his congregation and the faithful who depend on the Lord of the Spirits” (46:8). The selfidentification of these communities with those who are poor and oppressed is consistent with the deprecatory references to the well-to-do and the landowners in the later Enoch literature and suggests a particular social location for these circles. It remains a challenge, however, to speculate about the origins of these groups and in particular about a possible priestly origin for them, as suggested by some scholars (Boccaccini 2002; Macaskill 2007). Enochic circles would have interacted with other groups. Although the reception of Enochic texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls recovered from the environs of Khirbet Qumran suggests a close relationship between the Essenes and the Enochic circles, that relationship has been variously interpreted (Boccaccini 2005: 327–435). While any direct identification between the community of Qumran and Enoch circles should be excluded, some see evidence of a particularly close connection between the latter and urban Essenes (Boccaccini 2007); others prefer to talk of the Enoch circles as completely autonomous apocalyptic groups which were among those that influenced the development of the Essene movement (Collins 2007a). An even closer relationship may have existed between Enochic circles and the earliest Jesus movement, as it is apparent that (at least) some of early followers of Jesus were familiar

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with Enochic texts and ideas (cf. Nickelsburg 2012: 70–76; Stuckenbruck and Boccaccini 2016: 1–17). The only explicit geographical reference in the Enoch literature, apart from references to Jerusalem, is to the Upper Galilee in the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 6:6—Mount Hermon; 13:7—waters of Dan southwest of Mount Hermon; cf. also 13:9). The references in themselves do not allow one to conclude that Enoch circles were present in that part of the land of Israel. There are, however, numerous elements that point to a possible Galilean setting of the movement (Aviam 2013)—a highly suggestive possibility, given its implication for Christian origins (Nickelsburg 1981; Charlesworth 2013). In summary, the existence of Enoch circles promoting a distinctive form of apocalyptic Judaism in the Second Temple period is firmly established. These circles constituted Jews who, drawing on Enoch (and perhaps also Noah) as an ideal figure, felt marginalized and oppressed and were driven by eschatological expectations. The precise sociological structure and the geographical setting(s) of these circles, however, remain largely elusive.

Bibliography M. Aviam, “The Book of Enoch and the Galilean Archaeology and Landscape,” Parables of Enoch (2013), 159–70. G. Boccaccini, Roots of Rabbinic Judaism: An Intellectual History, from Ezekiel to Daniel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002). G. Boccaccini, “Enochians, Urban Essenes, Qumranites: Three Social Groups, One Intellectual Movement,” The Early Enoch Literature (2007), 301–27. J. H. Charlesworth, “Did Jesus Know the Traditions in the Parables of Enoch?” Parables of Enoch (2013), 173–217. J. J. Collins, “Enochic Judaism and the Sect of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” The Early Enoch Literature (2007a), 283–99. J. J. Collins, “How Distinctive was Enochic Judaism?” Meghillot 5–6 (2007b): 17–34. J. J. Collins, “Enochic Judaism: An Assessment,” The Dead Sea Scrolls and Contemporary Culture (2011), 219–34. M. Goodman, “Josephus and Variety in First-Century Judaism,” Proceedings of the Israel Academy of Science and Humanities 7 (2000): 201–13. D. Jackson, Enochic Judaism: Three Defining Paradigm Exemplars, LSTS 49 (London: T&T Clark International, 2004). H. S. Kvanvig, “Jubilees-Read as Narrative,” Enoch and Qumran Origins (2005), 75–83. G. Macaskill, “Priestly Purity, Mosaic Torah and the Emergence of Enochic Judaism,” Hen 29 (2007): 67–89. G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Enoch, Levi, and Peter: Recipients of Revelation in Upper Galilee,” JBL 100 (1981): 575–600. P. Sacchi, Jewish Apocalyptic and Its History, LSTS 20 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1996). L. T. Stuckenbruck and G. Boccaccini, “1 Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels: The Method and Benefits of a Conversation,” Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels (2016), 1–17. GABRIELE BOCCACCINI

Related entries: Apocalypticism; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Prophets, Texts Associated with; Sectarianism.

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Enosh As in the text of Genesis 5 (cf. also 1 Chr 1), Enosh appears in a number of lists of pre-patriarchal righteous ancestors linking Israel back to Adam (Sir 49:14–16; Jub. 19:24–25; 1 En. 37:1; 2 En. 33:10–11 [Rec. J]; Josephus, Ant. 1.79, 83; Luke 3:37–38). In some cases, names in such lists have a priestly character (Jub. 19:24–25; 2 En. 71:32, cf. Sir. 49:14–16). Genesis 4:25–26 also states that after Cain’s murder of Abel, Adam and Eve conceived Seth, who fathered Enosh (Gen 4:25–5:11). Several features of the Genesis text precipitated creative interpretation of the brief references to Enosh in Second Temple literature. The Hebrew ʾnôš (‫ )אנוש‬also means “human, humankind,” and in Ben Sira 49:16 the personal name evokes the question in Psalm 8:5 (Heb.) “What is man (enosh)?” (see Fletcher-Louis 2004). According to the Greek text (LXX) of Genesis 4:26b, Enosh “hoped to call on the name of the Lord God” and Philo (Abr. 7–15; Det. 138–139; Praem. 14; QG 1:79) regarded him to have been a true man (ἄνθρωπος, anthropos), a model for the virtuous man who hopes, and the progenitor of a new humanity. A passage in 4QInstruction probably contains a reference to Enosh (at 4Q417 1 i 14–17 = 4Q418 43–45 i 10–13) as one of the sons of Seth to whom there is given, along with “a spiritual people,” a special revelation referred to as “the vision of Hagu/meditation and a book of remembrance” (for other interpretations see Goff 2013: 158, 162–64). There is no explicit mention or reference to Enosh in the Qumran text 4Q379, which was misleadingly labeled 4QPrayer of Enosh by its editors (cf. Kugel 1998: 119). Along different lines, later rabbinic tradition interprets the Hebrew text of Genesis 4:26b as referring to the wicked generation of Enosh that ascribed deity to idols (see Fraade 1984, 1998). This tradition may already be presupposed in Pseudo-Philo (LAB 2:9).

Bibliography C. H. T. Fletcher-Louis, “The Temple Cosmology of P and Theological Anthropology in the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sira,” in Of Scribes and Sages: Early Jewish Interpretation and Transmission of Scripture, ed. C. A. Evans, LSTS 50 / SSEJC 9 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2004), 69–113. S. D. Fraade, Enosh and His Generation: Pre-Israelite Hero and History in Postbiblical Interpretation, SBLMS 30 (Chico: Scholars Press, 1984). S. D. Fraade, “Enosh and His Generation Revisited,” in Biblical Figures Outside the Bible (1998), 59–86. M. J. Goff, 4QInstruction (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013). J. Kugel, “4Q369 ‘Prayer of Enosh’ and Ancient Biblical Interpretation,” DSD 5 (1998): 119–48. CRISPIN H. T. FLETCHER-LOUIS

Related entries: Cain and Abel; Genealogies; Genesis, Book of; Philo of Alexandria.

Entertainment Structures Many Jews were exposed to foreign venues of entertainment in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. These structures were efficient means of cultural assimilation and were sometimes seen as a threat to various aspects of Jewish values (Harris 1976). The traditional Greek games consisted of athletics (γυμνικά, gymnika), theatrical shows, musical contests, and horse and chariot races (ἱππικά, hippika). Under the Roman regime, new spectacles were added: gladiatorial combats

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(munera), hunting spectacles (venationes), and beasts incited to attack each other. In addition, convicted criminals were delivered to the wild beasts in these shows. The earliest evidence of Jewish attraction to body culture dates to the early 3rd century bce: Jews of Asia and Syria, when wanting but unable to use oil produced by the gentiles, were granted by Seleucus I Nicator (312–281 bce) the right to get from the gymnasiarch a sum of money equal to the value of the oil allotted to gentiles in the gymnasium, in order to purchase their own. This right prevailed down to the time of Josephus (Ant. 12.119–121). Under Antiochus IV, the introduction of a gymnasium and an ephēbeion (ἔφηβειον) in Jerusalem by the high priest Jason in 175 bce aroused great enthusiasm for non-Jewish, Hellenistic customs. Jason also dispatched Jewish official delegates (θεοροί, theoroi) to Phoenicia to attend the quadrannial festival at Tyre (1 Macc 1:14–15; 2 Macc 4:7–20; Josephus, Ant. 12.240–241). These moves incited bold opposition that, together with further provocations, ultimately led to the Maccabean revolt. A more extensive enterprise of acculturation was initiated by Herod the Great a century and a half later (cf. Patrich 2009). Herod was a fan of Roman games and shows, and he was known to attend some of the most impressive of them in person. Because of his munificence in providing funds for the Olympic Games, Herod, in June 12 bce, was even named perpetual president (ἀγωνοθέτης, agōnothetēs) of the games. Herod’s patronage was clearly manifested earlier in his reign (28 bce) when, e.g., he established in Jerusalem quadrennial games in honor of Augustus. The venues for the games were a theater and an amphitheater. Although the games encountered resistance and protest (Ant. 15.268–291), this enterprise was more successful than the measures taken under Jason before the Maccabean war; many Jews were overwhelmed by the shows and willing to compromise traditional values in order to enjoy the new and popular amenities. Thus Herod built theaters and other entertainment structures in his palaces and in other cities of his realm. He constructed a theater in his palaces in Jericho and the Herodium, in Samaria-Sebaste, and in Caesarea Maritima (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). Herodian stadia or hippodromes (other than the hippodrome in Jerusalem) have been recovered from excavations in Caesarea Maritima, Samaria-Sebaste, Jericho, and the Herodium (entitled there “the course”) (Figure 4.48). The theater of Jerusalem (and in Jericho) seems to have been built out of wood, as was the custom in Rome at that time. The theaters built in the other three sites had been built earlier, of stone. Agrippa, the main aid of Emperor Augustus, was hosted in the lavishly decorated royal box above the Herodium theater (E. Netzer, Y. Kalman, R. Porath, and R. Chachy-Laureys 2010). On the occasion of the inauguration feast of Caesarea in 10 bce, Herod instituted Isactian Games, commemorating the momentous victory of Octavian at Actium (Ant. 16.137–141; J.W. 1.21, 28, 415). Augustus and Julia sent equipment and utensils for these games, which attracted large crowds. Herod offered prizes of the highest value not only to the victors but also to those who obtained second and third places. The games lasted for 15 days (Latin version of Ant. 16.140). In addition to a theater (Figure 4.48: 2), Herod built in Caesarea a hippo-stadium (Figure 4.48: 3)— a composite structure that served both as a stadium (an arena for athletic competitions) and as a hippodrome (an arena for horse and chariot races). Josephus referred to it as an amphitheatron (ἀμφιθέατρον), writing in a period when this term did not yet designate an oval structure, such as the Flavian Colosseum at Rome. In the hippo-stadium of Caesarea, gladiatorial combats were also held (Patrich 2002). The Herodian “hippodrome” at Jericho (Figure 4.48: 4) and the “stadium” in Samaria-Sabaste (Figure 4.48: 1) were likewise composite entertainment structures, serving 245

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Figure 4.48  Herodian entertainment structures (Mohr Siebeck Tübingen).

gymnika, hippika, and even gladiatorial combat (as is indicated by several incised drawings in the “stadium” of Samaria). Josephus reports (Ant. 19.335–337) that Herod’s son, Herod Antipas, built a stadium in Tiberias (some remains of which have been recovered), a theater in Sepphoris, and a hippodrome in Tarichea—a small town on the Sea of Galilee, in a Jewish territory like the other two places. Herod’s grandson Agrippa I donated both a theater and a Roman amphitheatron for gladiatorial combats to Berytus. Two armies, each of 700 warriors (condemned criminals according to Josephus), fought in the latter structure when it was inaugurated.

Bibliography H. A. Harris, Greek Athletics and the Jews (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1976). J. Patrich, “Herod’s Hippodrome/Stadium at Caesarea and the Games Conducted Therein,” in What Has Athens to Do with Jerusalem. Essays in Honor of Gideon Foerster, ed. L. V. Rutgers (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 29–68. J. Patrich, “Herodian Entertainment Structures,” Herod and Augustus (2009), 181–213, 455–67. E. Netzer, Y. Kalman, R. Porath, and R. Chachy-Laureys, “Preliminary Report on Herod’s Mausoleum and Theatre with a Royal Box at Herodium,” JRA 23.1 (2010): 85–108. JOSEPH PATRICH

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Architecture; Caesarea Maritima; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Music; Revolt, Maccabean; Romanization.

Epictetus Epictetus (ca. 50–130 ce) was a prominent late Stoic. Born to a slave mother in Hierapolis, Asia Minor, he later sojourned in Rome as a slave of a certain Epaphroditus; this Epaphroditus is 246

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sometimes identified with Nero’s freedman and secretary and with the Epaphroditus to whom Josephus dedicates his books (Life 430; Ag. Ap. 2.1, 296). These identifications are doubtful, however (Weaver 1994). In Rome, Epictetus studied philosophy under the Stoic Musonius Rufus. After gaining his personal freedom, Epictetus began his own teaching career. When Emperor Domitian banished him from Rome along with other philosophers, Epictetus founded a school in Nicopolis, close to the modern Preveza in Greece, and taught there until his death. Epictetus delivered his teaching orally in the form of diatribe, closely reminiscent of Paul’s epistles. His Discourses and Encheiridion were written by his student, Lucius Flavius Arrian (ca. 95–170), in the early 2nd century. The texts represent late Stoicism and provide a reference point for comparisons with contemporary philosophically oriented Jewish and Christian texts (Long 2002; Huttunen 2009). Epictetus mentions Jews alongside Syrians, Egyptians, and Romans. In Discourses 1.11.12– 13, referring to the groups’ differing views on food (τροφή, trophē), Epictetus illustrates the general rule that conflicting views cannot be right at the same time. In Discourses 1.22.4 Epictetus mentions that all four nations are unanimous that holiness should be valued highly. Yet, there is a conflict (μάχη, machē) on whether it is holy or unholy to eat pork. In both cases, the passing references to dietary regulations indicate that the audience possessed general knowledge on the issue, which the Skeptics used to deny the Stoic theory of the common notions (Dobbin 1998). Epictetus’ two other texts are variously interpreted as references to Jews and to Christians. In Discourses 4.7.6, he mentions fearless Galileans, whom some scholars have associated with the Zealots. This is doubtful, however, as such a passing reference would not be understandable for an audience outside Palestine a number of decades after the First Jewish War. Most scholars since the early 20th century assume that the Galileans refer to Christians (Bonhöffer 1911: 42–44). In Discourses 2.9.19–21 Epictetus admonishes the audience to become real Stoics, and in so doing compares them with Jews, who have assumed “the pathos of the baptized.” Due to the textual complexities, the editions provide the text in an emended form, which seems to speak of proselyte baptism. Circumcision, however, is not mentioned, which makes a Jewish interpretation doubtful. According to the original text of Discourses 2.9.19–21, it is instead Jews who become real (τῷ ὄντι, tō onti) Jews, so that baptism cannot denote proselyte baptism. The perfect tense (βεβαμμένου, bebammenou), however, is indicative of a one-time baptism in contrast to repeated ablutions. The words about the baptized “real” Jews probably reflect a Christian supersessionist perspective: it is Christian baptism that makes a real Jew. Thus the text provides evidence about the relationship between Jews and Christians around the beginning of the 2nd century (Huttunen 2013).

Bibliography A. Bonhöffer, Epiktet und das Neue Testament, RVV 10 (Gießen: Töpelmann, 1911). R. F. Dobbin, Epictetus, Discourses Book I. Trans. with an introduction and commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998). N. Huttunen, Paul and Epictetus on Law. A Comparison, LNTS 405 (London: T&T Clark, 2009). N. Huttunen, “In the Category of Philosophy. Christians in Early Pagan Accounts,” in Others and the Construction of Early Christian Identities, ed. R. Hakola, N. Nikki, and U. Tervahauta, PFES 106 (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 2013), 239–81.

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A. A. Long, Epictetus. A Stoic and Socratic Guide to Life (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002). P. R. C. Weaver, “Epaphroditus, Josephus, and Epictetus,” ClQ 44.2 (1994): 468–79. NIKO HUTTUNEN

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Diet in Palestine; Galilee; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greece and the Aegean; Greek Philosophy; Pauline Letters; Revolt, First Jewish.

Eschatology Introduction.  The term “eschatology” is derived from the Greek adjective ἔσχατος (eschatos), meaning “last,” and from a cluster of expressions that employ the adjective, such as “the last days,” or the related substantives ἔσχατον (eschaton, “last thing/time”) and ἔσχατα (eschata, “last things/times”). It is often crudely described as “end-time (or even ‘end of the world’) expectation” but this label is insensitive to the complexity of beliefs associated with “the last days” in both Jewish and Christian texts. Not only is it the case that such beliefs typically involve a transformation (and not a termination) of the present world, even if a cataclysmic one, it is also significant that a great deal of variation marks these beliefs, particularly in relation to the chronology of events leading up to and following the transformation, and to where the “present” time of author/reader is located in this schema (see Collins 2007). Hebrew Bible.  The resources for reflection on eschatology in Second Temple Judaism are drawn from the biblical prophetic material that anticipates a future period of transformation, which often labels this period as “those days” (e.g. Jer 31:29; 33:15,16; 50:4, 20; cf. Jer 9:25; Joel 2:29, Zech 8:23, 3:1) or more specifically identifies a singular “day of the LORD” (e.g. Joel 1:15; 2:1,11; 2:31; 3:14; Amos 5:20; Zeph 1:7, 14; 3:8; Zech 9:16; 12:8) or simply “that day” (e.g. Zech 12:4). The apparently interchangeable usage of these phrases within minor prophets like Zechariah means that the texts can be mutually interpretive. When this dynamic is brought together with the kind of reading strategies known to have been operative in the Second Temple period, which anticipate the rabbinic middot, the way is open for a broad and potentially contradictory range of eschatological scenarios and chronologies to emerge, as the prophetic material is read in conjunction with other scriptures. These dynamics do not operate in isolation from the influence of contemporary events and crises: such events are reflected in the developments of eschatological scenarios, as readers and authors seek to locate the events of their own days within the anticipated future of their scriptural texts. Second Temple Eschatology.  Often, what binds the various scenarios is a sense of temporal liminality: the contemporary time of the actual author or reader (as distinct from the claimed author or addressee) is on the cusp of the time of fulfillment. Much New Testament scholarship has presumed that this reflects a simple and widely held scenario of two ages—old and new— with the authors perceiving the new age to be dawning, breaking into the old. This two-age model has driven some of the most significant movements in New Testament scholarship, not least through the role it played in Albert Schweitzer’s thought, where it was labeled as a distinctive “apocalyptic eschatology.” In fact, when one examines the various texts of the Second Temple period, eschatological accounts look much more complicated, as they often involving multiple stages of eschatological fulfillment. Good examples of this complexity are found in

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the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 En. 93:1–10; 91:11–17; see VanderKam, 1984) and the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 85–90), which are historical apocalypses that involve several distinct stages of fulfillment. The specifics of such scenarios and chronologies are, moreover, affected by the position that the authorial community occupies in relation to the powers and authorities in Jerusalem and in the centers of delegated authority associated with ruling powers such as Rome. Consequently, scholars should be careful not to assume that the specific details of one text can be transferred to the interpretation of another. The broad liminality that is a common feature of eschatology means that one generally encounters a mixture of realized and future elements in any given text. The failure to recognize that this a predictable marker of liminal thought has led to some naive and simplistic redactional analyses of New Testament texts, in particular, with realized and future elements being associated with distinct stages of the redactional process. Such approaches have also given rise to a range of particular categories of eschatology that are generally set in tension: “ethical eschatology” and “sapiential eschatology” are seen as categories of a realized eschatology in which the new age is considered to be fully present, its realization a function of the ethical decisions made in the here and now by members of the kingdom; apocalyptic eschatology, by contrast, is seen as a “future” eschatology, in which the expectations yet to be realized are associated with God’s invasive activity of judgment (Crossan 1991: 225–302; Crossan 1999: 305–44). Such redactional approaches often deploy from criticism to identify specific kinds of material associated with each viewpoint. Such approaches are problematized by the Second Temple texts themselves: e.g. sapiential writings from Qumran, such as 4QInstruction, contain material that anticipates a future judgment and expects a divine invasion (Goff 2003); and apocalyptic writings, such as the constituent parts of 1 Enoch, label eschatological communities as “wise” and represent them as experiencing moral transformation and embodying the values of social justice, often using forms (such as beatitudes and similitudes) normally associated with wisdom literature. This is unsurprising, since the end-time is often represented using imagery derived from protology or creation accounts, leading scholars to speak of the link between Endzeit and Urzeit. Despite this, there are notable examples of scholars identifying strata in the hypothetical sayings document Q (as in the case of Kloppenborg 1987; cf. Goff 2005) or stages in the development of the Jesus tradition (as with Crossan 1991, 1999) on the basis of different eschatologies. It remains the case, though, that there may be significant differences between the ways in which the ultimate state of existence—both personal and cosmic—that is associated with eschatology is conceived, and these, in turn, may be connected to the spectrum of Hellenistic thought that influenced and developed within Second Temple Judaism. Such differences may be quite significant for the extent to which specific eschatologies contain realized elements and for what, in fact, is realized. Beliefs about the goodness of the physical realm or about the nature of evil will obviously affect the character of hopeful expectation. They may also be significant for the roles that specific individuals are expected to play in the sequence of events, an issue with obvious connections to messianism.

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “Apocalyptic Eschatology in the Ancient World,” in Oxford Handbook of Eschatology, ed. J. L. Walls (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 40–55.

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J. D. Crossan, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1991). J. D. Crossan, The Birth of Christianity: Discovering What Happened in the Years Immediately after the Death of Jesus (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999). M. J. Goff, The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4QInstruction, STDJ 50 (Leiden: Brill, 2003). M. J. Goff, “Discerning Trajectories: 4QInstruction and the Sapiential Background of the Sayings Gospel Q,” JBL 124 (2005): 657–73. J. S. Kloppenborg, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987). GRANT MACASKILL

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Death and Afterlife; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Jesus; Prophecy; Revelation, Book of.

Essenes “Essenes” (Greek ʾΕσσηνοί, Essēnoi or ʾΕσσαῖοι, Essaioi; Latin Esseni) is the Greek name of a Jewish religious group of the late Second Temple period, one of the three Jewish “schools” mentioned by Josephus. They are mentioned by name only by Philo, Pliny the Elder, Josephus, and later authors. According to most scholars, they are closely related to the group authoring (parts of) the Qumran library, although the precise relationship remains unclear (M. Collins 2009). In any case, the views of the “Qumran Community” can only be explained from the “sectarian” texts from Qumran, not from the secondary sources on the “Essenes” which only provide external “Greek” perspectives. The explanation of the name “Essenes” is uncertain. The most plausible explanation derives the name from Aramaic ḥasayyāh (‫“ = )חסיה‬pious (ones),” suggesting a connection with the ᾿Ασιδαῖοι (Asidaioi) of the Maccabean time (1 Macc 2:42). Sources.  The main sources (in Vermes and Goodman 1989; see Taylor 2012) are Philo (Prob. 75–91, Hypoth. [Apologia pro Iudaeis], and Contempl. featuring a group called “the Therapeutae”); Pliny the Elder (Nat. 5.73); and Josephus (J.W. 1.78–80; 2.111–13, 119–61, 556– 68, 3.9–12; 5.142–45; Ant. 13.171–72; 15.371–79; 18.18–22; and Life 10–12). Later, Essenes are mentioned in Hippolytus (Haer. 9.18.2–9.28.2), Solinus (Memorabilia 35.10–11), and Dio of Prusa (as reported by Synesios of Cyrene, Dio 3.2). The primary sources differ in character, genre, and many details. Pliny visited Judea in 70 ce with Titus, but probably never traveled to the Dead Sea. In his Natural History he inserts an ethnographic note about a “tribe” (Latin gens) living near the Dead Sea without money and women, with only palm trees. He may have drawn on a source reporting curiosities, but his location of the group has led scholars to link the texts from the Qumran caves with the Essenes. Philo depicts the Essenes as a remarkable example of virtue and freedom, an association of Jewish men dedicated to holiness, practicing a community of goods, living in small villages without slaves, working in agriculture and crafts (but without weapons or commerce), keeping the Sabbath and constant purity, rejecting women and marriage, and practicing the love of others. He probably did not have firsthand knowledge of this group but drew on Palestinian sources which he interpreted according to his own philosophical ideals (Vermes and Goodman 1989: 19). 250

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Josephus gives the most detailed information and must have had some firsthand knowledge about Essenes, although he also provides only an external perspective. His earliest reference relates to the time of Jonathan (161–143/2 bce), to which he links the rise of the three “parties.” But in describing them according to the pattern of the Greek schools of Stoics (= Pharisees), Epicureans (= Sadducees), and Pythagoreans (= Essenes), he provides an interpretation in Greek terms. He presents the Essenes as a peaceful and honorable party; some members are also presented as political prophets, with a certain Judas foretelling the death of Antigonus, a man called Simon predicting the end of Aristobulus, and a prophet called Menahem prophesying the kingship of Herod, who is said to have favored the Essenes later for this reason. The most detailed information is presented in two reports (J.W. 2.119–61; Ant. 18.18–22). As in Philo, the Essenes are depicted as an ideal association of virtuous, peaceful, and pious Jews. According to Josephus, they sent offerings to the Jerusalem Temple, but performed their own sacrifices in a unique kind of purity (Ant. 18.19). They immersed daily in cold water and ate a communal meal in strict purity. Josephus also describes their admission procedures, which included times of probation, their purification rites, and their solemn vows “to hate the wicked and to fight alongside the just” (J.W. 2.139) and to “reveal nothing to outsiders” (J.W. 2.141). Josephus also mentions the expulsion of guilty members and other details of their daily life, such as their covering of excrements (J.W. 2.148–149). The accounts differ on, e.g., matters of celibacy and marriage, pacifism and resistance, political prophecy and a quiet life. In part this discrepancy may be due to the authors’ use of sources and/or to their respective apologetic and idealizing interests. All the accounts lack precise information on doctrine or Scriptural interpretation, possibly since the Essenes kept their teachings secret from outsiders. The doctrinal matters that are described (on, e.g., fate and immortality) are described in Hellenistic terms. Thus, the reports by Philo, Pliny, and Josephus are all written from an external perspective, and it remains difficult to determine whether Qumran texts (but only those attributed to the Yaḥad) can provide a more appropriate internal view. Essenes and Qumran.  Immediately after the Qumran discoveries, E. L. Sukenik (1948: 16) suggested the identification of the Qumran group with the Essenes, chiefly inspired by Pliny’s localization of the Essenes near the Dead Sea and an impressive list of parallels between the reports of Philo and Josephus and texts such as 1QS (community of goods, communal meals, purification rites, Sabbath observance, determinism, belief in afterlife, angels, etc.; cf. Beall 1988). Soon thereafter, the ruins of Qumran were interpreted by R. de Vaux (1956) as an Essene settlement (or even “monastery”). This was the predominant view until the 1980s. Since then, the relation has been questioned for various reasons, such as the variety in the Qumran library and different archaeological interpretations of the ruins of Qumran. In most of the alternate explanations, however, the origin of the library is left unexplained, or the links between the caves and the settlement are either ignored or dismissed. In view of these debates, the “Essene hypothesis” retains validity, but only with some modification: many of the Qumran texts were not composed by the community itself, so that only the community writings (Damascus Document, Community Rule, Hodayot, Pesharim, MMT) can serve as a basis for reconstructing the beliefs of the community. Further discrepancies among the rule texts may point to different subgroups or stages of development in the history of the community. Moreover, these rules were not written for the inhabitants of Qumran, since the settlement was established only around 100 bce 251

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(Magnes 2002: 65–66), but for other groups of the Yaḥad in Judea (M. Collins 2009: 52–87). The connection between the scrolls and the Essenes is confirmed by two rather marginal elements from the list of parallels: the mention of the Essene avoidance of oil as a source of defilement (J.W. 2.123) coincides with the halakic view that oil transmits ritual impurity (MMT), and the prohibition of spitting (J.W. 2.147) has an analogy in the penal code in 1QS vii 13. A fragmentary text, Rebukes of the Overseer (4Q477), even confirms that the penal code was practiced at Khirbet Qumran, and an ostracon (although poorly legible) seems to confirm the practice of the community of goods in accordance with 1QS (M. Collins 2009: 194–96). History.  The Essene movement probably separated from other Jews in the time of Jonathan (152 ce) due to halakic disputes and the conviction that the high priesthood of Jonathan was illegitimate. They regarded themselves as the legitimate remnant (CD A i 4) of Israel, the true covenant of God (1QS i 16), and believed that their early leader, the Righteous Teacher, possibly the legitimate high priest (Stegemann 1998), had revealed to them the true and definitive Torah interpretation. In their halakic conservatism they lived with a strict priority of priests (the Zadokites) over against laypeople, a higher status of ritual purity, and a strictly dualistic worldview. The movement came to an end during the Jewish War (destruction of Khirbet Qumran in 68 ce), although some of its views can later be found in rabbinic literature.

Bibliography T. S. Beall, Josephus’ Description of the Essenes Illustrated by the Dead Sea Scrolls, SNTSMS 58 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988). R. de Vaux, “Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân: Rapport préliminaire sur le 3e, 4e, and 5e campagnes,” RB 63 (1956): 533–77. E. L. Sukenik, Megillot Genuzot, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1948) (Hebrew). G. Vermes and M. Goodman, The Essenes according to the Classical Sources (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989). JÖRG FREY

Related entries: Associations; Dead Sea Scrolls; Holiness; Josephus, Writings of; Marriage and Divorce; Philo of Alexandria; Pliny the Elder; Priesthood; Revolt, First Jewish; Sexuality.

Ethics Introduction.  The concern for how one should live is one of the existential questions of humanity. It is discussed by Greco-Roman philosophers like Socrates and Seneca, and it finds vibrant expression in the books of the Hebrew Bible. Among the latter, however, how one should live, both individually and collectively, is not addressed as an end in itself, but is mostly subordinated to the larger question of covenant faithfulness. Obedience to God, who has made Israel the elect people, however defined, functions as the guiding framework for human behavior. It is hence not surprising that ethics, understood as reflection on the quality and empowering of personal and communal life before God, plays a major role in Second Temple Jewish literature. What this means would be formulated in a wide variety of ways in relation, e.g., to life in family, society (Jewish and non-Jewish), and life in places of worship (Jerusalem Temple, synagogue, houses of prayer). Across a broad spectrum of genres, Jewish writings give implicit and explicit attention to ethics:

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(a) paraenetic narratives that exhort a way of life by means of a worldview or the actions of exemplary characters (e.g. the protagonists in joseph and aseneth; and Tobit, Judith, and Daniel, respectively, in books by their names); (b) historiographical works (e.g. Josephus, Ant.); (c) philosophical discourses (e.g. 4 Maccabees); (d) apologies (e.g. Josephus, Ag. Ap.); (e) paraenetic poems (e.g. Pseudo-Phocylides); and (f) exegetical-philosophical tracts (Philo). As literature composed during the Second Temple period reflects diverse cultural and geographical settings, it is possible to differentiate broadly between writings of the Mediterranean diaspora and those composed nearer to Judea and Jerusalem. Examples from each sphere suggest where differences and similarities may exist. Writings from Judea and Environs.  The wisdom book of Ben Sira grounds Jewish morality in the fear of the Lord (e.g. Sir 1–2). The sage provides practical instructions that are grounded in the Torah (Sir 9:15; 24:23–29) and traditional wisdom. These instructions cover topics such as honoring one’s parents (Sir 3:1–16, an extended reflection on Exod 20:12 and Deut 5:16) and social behavior toward friends, wives, slaves, cattle, sons and daughters, priests, and the poor (cf., e.g., Sir 7:18–36; Collins 1997: 62–79). The large corpus of the Dead Sea Scrolls also provides evidence for ethics in relation to holiness, which includes separation from sinners and from those who do not belong to the elect. The Two Spirits Treatise in the Community Rule (1QS iii 13–iv 26) situates such an ethos within an apocalyptic framework of a struggle between two spirits that influence humankind and divide them into the camps of the children of light and the children of darkness with their respective forms of behavior. While an eschatological visitation will put an end to this battle, the instructor in other parts of the Rule of the Community calls upon the community to do what is good and upright in the meantime according to God’s commands in Scripture, i.e., to eschew every evil deed and to cling to all good works such as righteousness, truth, and justice (1QS i 1–15; cf. also 4Q416 1.1–16). The formation of such a community through the knowledge of God provided by the S/spirit comes especially to the fore in the Thanksgiving Hymns (Hodayot). Some instruction on social relations such as family and (presumably) inner-Jewish transactions is provided in 4QInstruction (cf. 4Q416 2 i–iv; 4Q417 2 i; 4Q418 8, 9, 10). Some apocalyptic texts imply a framework for ethics that is similar to the Rule of the Community; this is, in particular, the case for 1 Enoch (esp. chs. 91 to 105), in which the socioreligious bifurcation between the sinners and righteous is extended to cover a corresponding gap between the rich and the poor. The Book of Jubilees also advocates a clear distinction between those who belong to God’s elect people and those who do not, and places particular emphasis on observance of the right 364-day calendar which, together with other regulations found in the Torah, is deemed to have been followed by the main protagonists even before the revelation on Mount Sinai. Writings from the Diaspora. Philo of Alexandria provides the most comprehensive and extensive endeavor to develop and present early Jewish ethics in the diaspora (Lévy 2009). Faced with criticism of the Jewish way of life by non-Jews, Philo praises the universal significance of the Mosaic law, which is not only compatible with the laws of nature, but is also the driving force behind them (Opif. 3); it was also perfectly embodied in the lives of the patriarchs (Abr. 5–6). Philo offers an exegetical analysis of the Decalogue (e.g. Decal.; Spec.), and he summarizes the work of Moses as intending to create “unanimity, neighborliness, fellowship, reciprocity of feeling, whereby … the whole human race may advance to supreme happiness” (Virt. 119). However, the 253

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highest of virtues is piety (eusebeia), for which, Philo explains, God is “the transcendent source of all that exists,” with “piety” being “the source of the virtues” (Decal. 52). The search for God in piety provides access to a (mystical) encounter with the divine that, in turn, brings about ethical transformation. Philo thus not only prescribes what a Jewish ethos should look like but also points the way to how believers are enabled to embody it (cf. Rabens 2014). Along similar lines, the historian Josephus gives a defense of Jewish ethics by arguing that the Greek philosophers were the earliest imitators of the Mosaic legislation (Ag. Ap. 2.281). He discusses various customs and defends a strict Jewish morality, e.g., in relation to sexual behavior, for which the Torah serves as the basis (cf. Pseudo-Phocylides, esp. 175–217; Collins 1997: 158–77). In doing so, Josephus refers to various biblical characters who exemplify these virtues. The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs also has much to say about Jewish ethics by making regular reference to the exemplary and non-exemplary actions of Jacob’s sons. Presenting farewell discourses by each of Jacob’s sons, the Testaments exhort Jewish audiences—and, in the Christianized form, later Christian audiences—to embody virtues such as chastity and moderation. Comparison.  In Second Temple literature, ethical teaching generally draws on the Torah. Next to the Decalogue, comparative studies provided by Niebuhr (1987, 2002) and Sterling (2004) have identified the holiness code in Leviticus 18–20 and Deuteronomy 22 and 27 as texts that were especially influential. The other material from the Torah is often interpreted with similar emphases, albeit with different nuances owing to different sociocultural contexts and media of communication (literary genres). While many of the writings are concerned with similar topics (such as sexuality, compassion, truthfulness, idolatry, family), the diaspora literature tends to be more open toward the ethical instructions of the Greek philosophical schools and to espouse more relaxed approaches to holiness. On the other hand, living apart from immediate access to the Temple cult, the Yaḥad associated with Qumran endeavored to intensify the notion of holiness (Tso 2010), a perspective shared with related Dead Sea texts, the 1 Enoch corpus, and the Book of Jubilees.

Bibliography C. Lévy, “Philo’s Ethics,” in The Cambridge Companion to Philo, ed. A. Kamesar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 146–71. K.-W. Niebuhr, Gesetz und Paränese: Katechismusartige Weisungsreihen in der frühjüdischen Literatur, WUNT 2.28 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987). K.-W. Niebuhr, “Hellenistisch-jüdisches Ethos im Spannungsfeld von Weisheit und Tora,” in Ethos und Identität: Einheit und Vielfalt des Judentums in hellenistisch-römischer Zeit, ed. M. Konradt and U. Steinert (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2002), 27–50. V. Rabens, “Philo’s Attractive Ethics on the ‘Religious Market’ of Ancient Alexandria,” in Religions and Trade: Religious Formation, Transformation and Cross-Cultural Exchange between East and West, ed. P. Wick and V. Rabens, DHR 5 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 333–55. G. E. Sterling, “Was There a Common Ethic in Second Temple Judaism?” Sapiential Perspectives (2004), 171–94. M. K. M. Tso, Ethics in the Qumran Community: An Interdisciplinary Investigation, WUNT 2.292 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). VOLKER RABENS

Related entries: Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Hellenism and Hellenization; Righteousness and Justice; Wealth and Poverty. 254

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Ethiopic (Geʿez) Although Geʿez (Classical Ethiopic) is only believed to have emerged within the Ethio-Semitic linguistic family at the very end of the Second Temple period, or perhaps even slightly later, its importance to the modern study of Ancient Judaism should not be underestimated. Geʿez functioned as the vernacular of the Aksumite kingdom of the 1st millennium, and while displaced as a spoken tongue shortly thereafter, it has continued to serve as the liturgical language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church to the present (Haile 2005). Thus, while there is no evidence that the language played any direct role in the Judaism of that time, a considerable corpus Second Temple literature was translated into Classical Ethiopic and transmitted via manuscript copies into the modern period, ultimately thereby coming to the attention of scholars. Of primary importance among this group are 1 Enoch, Jubilees, and the Ascension of Isaiah, full versions of which are extant only in Geʿez. Texts of Second Temple origin entered into Ethiopic via two channels. The earlier, and by far the more important, occurred in the aftermath of Ethiopia’s official conversion to Christianity under King ‘Ezana ca. 330 ce. Over the following two centuries many texts were translated into Geʿez from Egyptian greek manuscripts. These included not only the books of the Septuagint and the New Testament, but also a wider range of literature popular in Egyptian Christian circles at the time, including many parabiblical texts. Such works with Jewish roots include 1 Enoch, Jubilees, Tobit, ben sira, Judith, Wisdom of Solomon, 4 Ezra, 4 Baruch, Joseph and Aseneth, Jannes and Jambres, and the Ascension of Isaiah. In some of these cases, the Ethiopic versions offer the sole surviving testimony to multiple, and in several instances extremely lengthy, passages. Similarly, as the only fully extant member of the second family of primary textual witnesses to the lost Greek Vorlage of 4 Ezra, the Geʿez translation arguably stands as the direct counterpart to and in conjunction with the Latin as the most important versional evidence for the book. Ethiopic translations made from Greek in the mid-1st millennium can be described as attempting literality as far as possible, though the degree of success varies. In general, major expansions and glosses are unknown, but translators often appear to have encountered difficulties—sometimes quite substantial ones—in understanding their Vorlagen and rendering their texts. Such instances are handled in a number of different ways, the most extreme being severe abridgment resulting in the omission of more than half of a pericope (e.g. Dan 11). Virtually all extant Ethiopic forms of texts translated during this period are noticeably corrupt, however. Only a few dozen Geʿez manuscripts or fragments thereof antedating the 14th century are presently known, leaving 800 or so years between the putative dates of translation and the earliest testimony for most such works. Consequently, the vicissitudes undergone by nearly all members of this corpus, including almost every biblical writing, during the first half of their lives can only be conjectured. Within the earliest extant manuscripts from the 14th and 15th centuries, highly corrupt, mature texts are attested. It remains unclear, however, whether these have been impacted by prior revisions distancing them from the versio antiqua, as clearly transpires throughout the biblical corpus (in the broadest sense) in the late 16th century principally on the basis of arabic (in some cases with a Judeo-Arabic background) exemplars. The contemporaneous standardization of 1 Enoch and Jubilees, texts that lacked sources for external comparison, seems to have been rooted more singularly in the endemic tradition. In these cases, later manuscripts, which comprise the bulk of those available, are normally of limited text-critical value.

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A much broader set of material was translated into Geʿez from Arabic, a process which started around the 12th century and continued until recently. Although a majority of texts of this type are hagiographic in character, certain works of Second Temple Jewish origin enjoyed a close association with similar more explicitly Christian material within the Coptic Church, entering Ethiopia from this channel during the deliberate, thoroughgoing reshaping of the Ethiopian literary landscape that reached its apex in the 14th century. Such works include the Testament of Abraham, transmitted together with the later Testaments of Isaac and Jacob under the name of Athanasius of Alexandria, and most probably the Lives of the Prophets, though a translation of the latter directly from Greek, at least in part, cannot yet be excluded. In addition, a rare Geʿez version of 1–2 Maccabees derived from the Clementine Vulgate is also known. Second Temple Jewish writings, especially 1 Enoch, are cited and relied upon in a number of Ethiopian theological works. However, as only a tiny proportion of the indigenous material has been studied in any fashion, it is not yet possible to ascertain the degree to and ways in which the former have influenced the latter.

Bibliography G. Haile, “Geʿez literature,” Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, ed. S. Uhlig, 5 vols. (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2003–2014), 2:736–41. TED M. ERHO

Related entries: Baruch, Fourth Book of; Ben Sira; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jubilees, Book of; Judith, Book of; Tobit, Book of.

Evil Evil was a central concern for writers in the Second Temple period. Texts of this period point to the widespread belief that physical evil such as disease could be attributed to demons whereas moral evil, including both human sin and the physical evil brought upon the righteous by the wicked, could be attributed to either demons or an internal inclination to sin. Lurking in the background of such explanations was the question of the extent to which any of these manifestations could ultimately be traced back to God as creator. The Watchers Myth and Anarchic “Evil Spirits.”  A widespread explanation of both “natural” evil and human sin was the mythical story of the “Watchers,” found in the Book of Watchers in 1 Enoch (chs. 1–36, esp. 6–11) and later developed in Jubilees (chs. 5, 7, and 10). An interpretation and expansion of Genesis 6:1–4, the myth narrates that the bny hʾlhym (‫ ;בני האלהים‬lit., the “sons of God”) in the Genesis passage were angelic beings (the “Watchers”) who sinned by mating with human women and whose actions eventually led to the biblical flood (Gen 6:9–8:22). The Watchers myth in 1 Enoch 6–11 combines three threads of tradition (Dimant 1978): (1) In one account the angel Asael teaches forbidden knowledge to women and to all humankind, knowledge that facilitates lust and war. (2) In another strain of tradition humans are taught magic and forbidden knowledge. (3) Perhaps the most popular thread focuses on the angels’ desire, led by Shemiḥaza, to mate with human women. The women bear giants, whose violence and voracious hunger cause humans tremendous distress and threaten the existence of air, sea, and land creatures. The final result of all these forms of illicit angelic intervention is the flood, which rids the world of contamination and of the evil deeds of humans. In most accounts the giants themselves are killed 256

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before the deluge, but their spirits, which originated from heavenly beings (the angels), cannot be destroyed but remain connected to earth as evil spirits, wreaking havoc among humankind and causing both physical evil (such as disease) and moral evil (sin). In Jubilees, these demons are subordinate to the Satan-like Angel Mastema (or “angel of hostility”). However, many Jews of this period considered these spirits anarchic and not part of a hierarchical system. Hence, when these spirits “(frequently called the “bastards,” as they resulted from an illicit union) are mentioned in incantations (11Q11 v 5–11) and apotropaic prayers (4Q510–511, 4Q444), neither Mastema nor another high-ranking figure such as Belial were included among them. The attribution of disease to “evil spirits” or other demonic characters is evident in many Second Temple texts such as Jubilees, where Noah is taught medicine in order to counteract the Watchers’ descendants (Jub. 10:10, 12–13), and in the Genesis Apocryphon, according to which God afflicts Pharaoh through an evil spirit after he takes Sarai (1Qap Gen xx 16–17, 28–29). The derivation of human sin from chaotic demons is not only prominent in Jubilees, but is also reflected in apotropaic prayer and incantations from Qumran such as the Songs of the Sage (4Q510–511), which includes references to the “bastard” descendants of the Watchers and further demonic figures drawn from Isaiah 13:21 and 34:14 such as “Lilith” (lîlit). Central Evil Figures.  Second Temple texts also focus on several central malevolent figures, characters who usually do not coexist in a single text. These central figures command demons and humans and can be responsible for causing both human sin and physical evil. In early Second Temple texts the chief administrator of evil is simply called the “Adversary” (‫שטָן‬ ָ , śāṭān), as in Job chapters 1–2, where the śāṭān has a role in the heavenly court, and in 1 Chronicles 21:1, a “rewriting” of 2 Samuel 24:1. Among the Dead Sea texts, a “satan” is rarely mentioned, and only in tandem with other sources of evil, as in 11Q5 xix 15. Later texts include arch-demonic or arch-angelic figures who fulfill this role: Mastema, Belial, and the less-frequently mentioned Melki-reša (Dimant 2011). Mastema, the principal evil figure of Jubilees, fulfills a role in the heavenly court similar to that of the śāṭān in Job chapters 1–2, asking for and receiving dominion over the spirit descendants of the Watchers (Jub. 10). For most of Jubilees, Mastema attempts harm to the Noahide, and later Abrahamic, line, but he is thwarted by the angels of the presence. Mastema in Jubilees functions principally as an interpretive device that “solves” problematic biblical passages, influencing God to ask for the sacrifice of Isaac, enabling pharaoh’s magicians to do magic, causing the continued hardheartedness of pharaoh and the Egyptians, and becoming a stand-in for God in the “bloody bridegroom” scene of Exodus 4:24–26 (Jub. 48:2). While Mastema is mentioned sporadically in the Dead Sea Scrolls, the main “satanic” character for the Qumran community, is Belial, who also appears in Jubilees 1:19. For the Qumran Community Belial is the principal cause behind the persecution of the Community and the continued sinning of non-members. The Community Rule, the War Scroll, and 4QBerachot (4Q286–290) all address curses to the “lot” (followers) of Belial, which consists of both demons and sinning humans (principally Jewish non-members, though also hostile gentiles). The Damascus Document takes a milder view, simply blaming Belial and his “traps” for the mistaken belief of outsiders that the community’s law is incorrect. The idea that Belial has been allowed free reign during the current era was central to Qumran belief. This is the “dominion of Belial” (‫ממשלת בליעל‬, mmšlt blyʿl), which will only end at the eschaton, when Belial and his followers will be destroyed. Melki-reša is another angelic/demonic figure mentioned in Qumran texts who 257

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opposes the good archangel Melki-ṣedeq (opposed by Belial in 11Q13; cf. 2 Cor 6:15 and Brooke 2014) and is cursed in a manner similar to Belial in 4QCurses (4Q280). The “dominion of Belial,” which in the Dead Sea Scrolls acknowledges that the present time falls inextricably (though not exclusively) under the influence of evil, finds its parallels in “the ruler of this world” in the Gospel of John (12:31; 14:16; 16:11), as well as in a more general reference to “the present evil age” in Paul’s letter to the Galatians (1:4). The tendency to amalgamate evil figures into a central one and the focus on the expulsion of evil spirits are found in a combined form in the cosmos assumed in many passages of the Synoptic Gospels (cf. esp. Mark 3:13–27 pars. Matt 12:22–32, Luke 11:14–23; Luke 10:17–20; Stuckenbruck 2011). Two Spirits.  The idea that two spirits, one of light and truth and the other of darkness and deceit, rule over the righteous and the wicked, respectively, can be found in the Treatise of the Two Spirits (1QS iii 13–iv 26). In the Treatise of the Two Spirits this idea is presented in the context of God’s determinism of all human action from the beginning of time. Nevertheless, the spirit of deceit not only rules the wicked but is also capable of causing the righteous to go astray (1QS iii 21–22). These two spirits are also found in the Visions of Amram (cf. 4Q543 5–9.1–8; 4Q544 1.10–14, 2.11–16), but in this work Amram is able to choose between them. For a similar kind of dualistic pattern with ethical corollary, though between “the Spirit” on the one hand and “the flesh” on the other, see Paul’s letter to the Galatians 5:16–25. The Evil Inclination.  Human evil is not always attributed to demons; it is sometimes attributed to a natural tendency on the part of humans to sin. The idea that the “evil inclination” (also denoted as “the stubbornness of one’s heart,” an “evil heart,” etc.) is a basic part of human makeup is particularly evident in the Damascus Document, where the new member is admonished not to repeat the sins of his forebears, who followed their own “will” (‫רצונם‬, rṣwnm) and not the commandments of God (CD ii 20–21). This idea is also particularly evident in Ben Sira (Sir 15:11–20; Hadot 1970) and the writings of Philo (Fug. 79–80, Deus 50; Brand 2013: 120–21). While the notion of an evil inclination is generally not portrayed in demonic terms, exceptions are found in the Plea for Deliverance, 11Q5 xix 15–16, where it is listed alongside a “satan” and a “spirit of impurity” as a potential cause of the speaker’s transgression, and the close association of an “evil inclination” with a “spirit of deceit” in Barkhi Nafshi (4Q435 2 i 5 + 4Q436 1a_b i 11 – 1 ii 1–4; cf. Kister 2014: 196–199). Different from both demonic and dualistic explanations of evil is the idea that human beings, as descendants of Adam, are given an “evil heart” at birth (which may or may not have been the result of Adam’s sin; Collins 2001: 297–98). This emphasis occurs in books composed soon after the destruction of the Second Temple, particularly 4 Ezra (3:20–22, 26; 4:4, 30; 7:48). Paradoxically, the author of 2 Baruch both echoes this idea (2 Bar. 48:42–43) and argues against it (2 Bar. 54:15–19).

Bibliography G. J. Brooke, “2 Corinthians 6:15–7:1 again: A Change in Perspective,” The Dead Sea Scrolls and Pauline Literature (2014), 1–16. J. J. Collins, “The Origin of Evil in Apocalyptic Literature,” in Seers, Sibyls, and Sages in HellenisticRoman Judaism, JSJSup 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 287–99.

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D. Dimant, “1  Enoch 6–11: A Methodological Perspective,” in SBL Seminar Papers, 1978 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1978), 323–39. M. Kister, “Body and Sin: Romans in Light of Qumranic and Rabbinic Texts,” The Dead Sea Scrolls and Pauline Literature (2014), 171–208. L. T. Stuckenbruck, “Satan and Demons,” in Jesus among Friends and Enemies, ed. L. W. Hurtado and C. Keith (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011), 173–97. MIRYAM T. BRAND

Related entries: Aqedah; Demons and Exorcism; Fallen Angels; Genesis, Book of; Jubilees, Book of; Judgment; Melchizedek; Pauline Letters; Righteousness and Justice; Satan and Related Figures; Theodicy.

Exile The 6th century bce Babylonian exile (MT: ‫גלה‬, golah; ‫גלות‬, galuth; LXX: φυγή, fygē; ἀποικία, apoikia; μετοικεσία, metoikesia) of Judah was one of the most catastrophic events in “Israel’s” history, forming an indelible memory on her consciousness and exercising far-reaching consequences on her beliefs, society, politics, writings, and self (re-)definition (Ackroyd 1968: 16; Lipschits 2005: xi–xiv). The exile(s) of Judah were carried out at three different points: 597 bce (2 Kgs 24:17; 2 Chr 36:9–10), 587 bce (2 Kgs 25:1–21; Jer 52:4–27; 2 Chr 36:17–20), and 582 bce (Jer 52:28–30). The deportation of 587 bce belongs to the wider complex of events that also included King Nebuchadnezzar’s razing of Jerusalem and destruction of the First Jerusalem Temple. Historically, the Babylonian exile targeted only (1) the elite people (e.g. king, prophets, priests, political officials, etc.) of (2) the southern kingdom of Judah (3) in the 6th century. However, the event was remembered in later Hebrew Bible and Second Temple writings as a catastrophe in which the collective people of all “Israel” were expelled from the land. That is, the historical exile of the few was idealized as an event that encompassed all Jews, even those of later periods (Barstad 1996). Although the Babylonian exile effectively ended under Persia in 538 bce with the Edict of Cyrus and the right to return to Judea (Ezra 1; 2 Chr 36:22–23), the idea of a continuing or new epoch of “exile” found expression in later Hebrew Bible texts (Halvorson-Taylor 2010). Moreover, the metaphorical usage of exile is appropriated in a number of Jewish documents from the late 3rd century bce through to the period and destruction of the Second Temple (Fuller 2006). Among these writings the language of exile is frequently invoked to address a variety of unresolved crises during the given time of composition. Some Jewish authors (e.g. Sir 36:10–14; Tob 14:5–7; 2 Macc 1:27–29) characterize the ongoing presence of Jews outside the land—where a vast number of Jews found themselves—as a kind of ongoing exile. This claim stands in contrast to the viewpoint of other Jews in the diaspora, who were quite comfortable in their foreign settings and could even consider these abodes as their homelands (Gafni 1997: 27–40). The diaspora Jew, Philo of Alexandria, positively presents the Jewish presence among the nations, not as the result of exile. He claims that the Jewish diaspora resulted from ancient efforts to colonize foreign territories (Flacc. 46). When Philo does speak of “exile,” he interprets it within a philosophical and allegorical framework. In this vein, Philo understands exilic “Israel” as the state of all people—Jews and gentiles alike—who possess “a divided mind.” They remain in a kind of captivity as long as they continue in their vices rather than pursuing the single vision or wisdom of God (Praem. 115–17; Her. 313–14). Likewise, the authors of Sibylline Oracles (Books 3 and 5) are largely sympathetic to the diaspora 259

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context in which they and other Jews live. Although Josephus bemoans the destruction of Jerusalem and its Temple, he most often portrays the Jewish historic presence among the nations positively. Josephus understands the “recent” defeat and exile of Judah in 70 ce to be permanent since God has now moved over to the side of the Romans (J.W. 5.377). In the 2nd century bce, various dilemmas, such as advancing Hellenism, the assassination of Onias III, the Seleucid persecution, and the ascension of the Maccabeans to the high priesthood, were catalytic for some Jewish authors to describe these crises in exilic language. In this respect, Daniel 9:24–27 focuses attention on the 70 years of exile prophesied by the prophet Jeremiah (Jer 29:10). For the Danielic writer, the recent murder of Onias III and Antiochus IV’s assault against Jews was ample evidence that the historic restoration was not the definitive one spoken of by Jeremiah. While the 6th century return is characterized as “a troubled time,” the writer claims that Jeremiah’s prophecy of 70 years should in fact be understood as 70 weeks of years (490 years) of captivity, so that it now bears on events in the 2nd century. Likewise, the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 85–90) responds to the Seleucid persecution using the metaphor of captivity. In rehearsing the events of the 6th century return from exile, the author condemns the Second Temple as illegitimate due to cultic violations (89:73). Under the supervision of rogue angels and under foreign tyranny, Israel’s exile therefore continues well into the author’s time. Among the Dead Sea Scrolls, a document identified as 4Q390 characterizes the 6th-century return in a positive light; however, it is only temporal and insufficient and will soon give way to another epoch of sin and captivity over which evil angels preside. Another metaphorical use of the motif of exile (and return) occurs in the Damascus Document. Here the idea is expressed that the Babylonian exile in fact continued on for 390 years (cf. Ezek 4:5–6), i.e., almost until the writer’s present. The notion of exile is thus deployed to characterize the situation of certain Jews, who are criticized for not properly understanding the Torah until the arrival of an authoritative teacher who guides these Jews in the proper interpretation of the Law (CD A i 1–12; cf. 1QS viii 14–16). Although the event possessed less resonance in the memory and writings of Early Judaism, the northern kingdom of Israel (722 bce) had experienced its own invasion and captivity by the kingdom of Assyria. The defeat and elimination of the northern kingdom was terminal. There would be no historic return and restoration. Nonetheless, a few early Jewish writings claim that these tribes did not disappear entirely. Indeed, rather than having been held captive or having been lost among the nations, the author of 4 Ezra, who writes in the aftermath of the Roman destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple, claims the northern tribes had escaped from Assyrian captivity, finding refuge in a hidden sanctuary across the Euphrates (4 Ezra 13:39–45; cf. 2 Bar. 77:21–26). In this other location (“another land”), they had zealously kept the Law, preserved their Jewish identity, and maintained their devotion to God. The destruction and exile of Israel had far-reaching effects beyond the 6th century. For some Jews Israel’s exile did not really end in the 6th-century return to the land. Instead, the metanarrative of “exile and return” remained a viable and appropriate idea or trope to characterize a wide range of predicaments hundreds of years after the historical exile under Babylon.

Bibliography P. R. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration. A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century BC (London: SCM Press, 1968). 260

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H. M. Barstad, The Myth of the Empty Land: A Study of the History and Archaeology of Judah During the “Exilic” Period. Symbolae Osloensis Fasc. Supplement 28 (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1996). M. Halvorson-Taylor, Enduring Exile: The Metaphorization of Exile in the Hebrew Bible, VTSup 141 (Leiden: Brill, 2010). O. Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah Under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2005). MICHAEL E. FULLER

Related entries: Allegory; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Baruch, Second Book of; Cyrus the Great; Daniel, Book of; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Judgment; Restoration; Revolt, Maccabean; Theodicy.

Exodus, The The exodus from Egypt was a defining moment in Israelite tradition. The story of the escape from Egypt was regarded as an unambiguous demonstration of God’s power and held a central place in Jewish history and self-consciousness, as evidenced by its annual commemoration at Passover (Exod 6–15). Over time the story was retold and expanded to keep the account fresh and relevant (Kugel 1998: 543–612). Often these reshaped tales featured an increasing focus on Moses as the central figure; for instance, details considered to be missing in the Exodus account were filled out, especially in relation to Moses’ birth and childhood (Gruen 1998). The Jewish writer Artapanus (250 bce), e.g., credits Moses with the invention of the Egyptian animal cult. Philo emphasizes Moses’ intellect and education, as well as the way that his profession as a shepherd prepared him to become a great leader (Moses 1.20–24, 60–63). Similarly, in Josephus Moses becomes an Egyptian general who leads a military campaign against Ethiopia (Ant. 2.239–254). In one adaptation, Ezekiel the Tragedian expands the theophany scene at Mount Sinai to include a vision in which Moses sees himself seated on a throne (Ezek. Trag. 67–82). This expansion seems to be based on God’s statement in Exodus 7:2, “I have made you like God to Pharaoh.” Each of these expansions portrays Moses as a hero/leader comparable to other famous figures in the Greco-Roman world. Another aspect of the Exodus that later writers reshaped and expanded was the plague narrative (Exod 7:14–11:9). Both Josephus and Philo provide far more detail about the ten plagues than is found in Exodus (Josephus, Ant. 2.293–314; Philo, Moses 1.143–146, cf. Dreams 2.266–267). Interestingly, neither of them have much to say about the Passover meal. The author of Jubilees, on the other hand, simply lists off the first nine plagues (48:5) but gives substantial attention to the tenth plague (49:1–6), which is then used to introduce regulations for the Passover feast. In Wisdom of Solomon, the plagues are contrasted with Israel’s wilderness wanderings and demonstrate how God punished the Egyptians while protecting Israel (Wis 15:14–19:22; Enns 1997). On the other hand, the New Testament Apocalypse of John, which contains numerous allusions to the exodus story, reduces the number of plagues to seven (Rev 8:2–9:21; 15:1–16:21). This seems to be a deliberate attempt to align the exodus story with the sevenfold penalties described in Leviticus 26 (“plagues” in 26:21), which warn of the consequences that Israel will suffer should they turn to the worship of idols—namely exile from the land (26:33). God will not

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abandon them in exile forever, however, but will remember his covenant with Israel and the way he rescued them from Egypt (26:45). Incidentally, there are several other variant traditions that list only seven plagues (Pss 78:44–51; 105:27; Amos 4:6–11; Wis 11:1–19:9). The connection between exile and the exodus is found in the Book of Isaiah, which anticipates a return from exile that resembles the escape from Egypt (Isa 10:21–26; 11:15–16; 52:4–12). This theme is picked up in Second Temple documents like 1 Baruch (1:9–21; 2:11–12) and Paraleipomena Jeremiae (6:22–24), which compare Israel’s return from exile with the exodus. More directly, Josephus refers to the Jewish return from exile as the “exodus from Babylon” (Ant. 11.75). Such comparisons have led some to posit that during the Second Temple period Jews anticipated a “new” or “second exodus” (Owens 2015). While this phraseology is found nowhere, the concept is implicitly present. The Damascus Document, for instance, associates deliverance from exile with the exodus from Egypt, which, described as a “first deliverance,” implies that there would be a second (CD A v 17–19). More specifically, 4Q462 describes Israel being given over to Egypt for a “second time” (4Q462 1.13), which is the most explicit comparison of Egypt with exile among the Dead Sea scrolls (Wold 2009). Some scholars have employed a “new exodus” as a lens for reconstructing a theological framework behind a number of passages in the New Testament. While the Exodus clearly influenced the New Testament documents, it is not clear whether there was an established “second exodus” theology during the Second Temple period. This “new exodus” is often conflated with the New Testament’s language of “new covenant,” Paul’s “new creation” theme, or Revelation’s imagery of a “New Jerusalem.” As is the case in other Second Temple period literature, the expression “new exodus” does not manifestly occur in the New Testament, although the concept is implicitly present. Thus, as an interpretive paradigm, it should be used with caution (Smith 2016).

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “Reinventing Exodus: Exegesis and Legend in Hellenistic Culture,” in Jewish Cult and Hellenistic Culture, JSJSup 100 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 44–57. P. Enns, Exodus Retold: Ancient Exegesis of the Departure from Egypt in Wis 10:15–21 and 19:1–9 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997). E. S. Gruen, “The Use and Abuse of the Exodus Story,” in Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition, ed. E. S. Gruen (Berkley: University of California Press, 1998), 41–72. M. D. Owens, “Isaiah’s New Exodus in the Writings of Second Temple Judaism,” in As It Was in the Beginning: An Intertextual Analysis of New Creation in Galatians, 2 Corinthians and Ephesians (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2015), 187–92. D. L. Smith, “The Uses of ‘New Exodus’ in New Testament Scholarship: Preparing a Way through the Wilderness,” CBR 14 (2016): 207–43. B. G. Wold, “Revelation’s Plague Septets: New Exodus and Exile,” Echoes from the Caves (2009), 279–98. JOHN BYRON

Related entries: Allegory; Exodus, Book of; Festivals and Holy Days; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Judgment; Philo of Alexandria; Mark, Gospel of; Revelation, Book of; Wilderness.

262

Ezra

Ezra Ezra is a biblical character connected with the return of the Judeans to Judah after the Babylonian exile. In the Hebrew Bible Ezra’s activities are described in Ezra 7–10 and Nehemiah 8–12, which were both composed at the beginning of the Hellenistic period. He is presented as both a priest and a scribe (Ezra 7:12; Neh 12:26). The latter title probably means that he was an official of the Persian Empire (Ezra 7:15). His priestly genealogy (Ezra 7:1–5) is very similar to the list of high priests found in 1 Chronicles 5:29–41 (except that Ezra omits six names). By using the Chronicles genealogy, the author of Ezra assumes that he was the son of Seraiah, the last high priest before the exile, and an uncle of Jeshua, the high priest of the restoration period during the reign of Darius I (522–486 bce). Many chronological problems arise from this overall account. According to Ezra 7:7, Ezra arrives in Jerusalem from Babylon the seventh year of King Artaxerxes after the reconstruction and dedication of the Jerusalem Temple. There are five Achaemenid kings called Artaxerxes. Scholars identify “King Artaxerxes” with Artaxerxes I (465–424 bce) or with Artaxerxes II (405–359 bce; cf. Blenkinsopp 2009: 48–61). If Ezra arrived in Jerusalem under the reign of Artaxerxes II (in 398 bce), the order of arrival of Ezra and Nehemiah given in the Hebrew Bible has to be reversed: Ezra came to Judah almost 50 years after Nehemiah (445 bce). In both cases, the genealogy is incompatible with Ezra coming to Jerusalem in the second part of the 5th or the beginning of the 4th century bce. Ezra 7:12–26 quotes Artaxerxes’ Aramaic letter that indicates Ezra’s tasks. His mission as the king’s agent was to investigate Judah and Jerusalem “by means of the Law of your God, which is in your hand” (Ezra 7:14). He is also charged in the letter to lead the company of immigrants in bearing votive offerings for the Temple (7:11–24). Ezra’s other task is to appoint royal judges in the satrapy beyond the river Euphrates (7:25–26). In the biblical text, however, Ezra does nothing of what Artaxerxes’ letter prescribes. Instead, he goes to Jerusalem in order to teach the Torah. When he arrives, he addresses the problem of the separation of the Jewish people from other populations by promulgating a ban on intermarriage (Blenkinsopp 2009: 63–71). According to Nehemiah 8–10, probably written by a different author, Ezra reads the Law to the assembled people, and a ceremony is organized during which the covenant with God is renewed. Ezra’s story is also taken up in the works 1 Esdras and 2 Esdras 1–16 (or 4 Ezra with Christian additions in chs. 1–2 and 15–16). First Esdras 9:7 regards him as a high priest (Fried 2014), while in 2 Esdras, after initially designated “Salathiel,” he functions as a prophet-visionary-scribe whose dialogues with the angel Uriel and visions respond to the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce (Fried 2014). In this later context, recourse to the biblical Ezra as an ideal figure draws on parallels between the former’s postexilic activities and the need for renewal following the loss of the Temple (Najman 2014).

Bibliography J. Blenkinsopp, Judaism, the First Phase. The Place of Ezra and Nehemiah in the Origins of Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009). L. S. Fried, Ezra and the Law (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2014). PIERLUIGI LANFRANCHI

Related entries: Ezra, Book of; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Joshua the High Priest; Genealogies; Nehemiah, Book of; Nehemiah; Persian Period. 263

Faith and Faithfulness

Faith and Faithfulness In Second Temple Jewish writings, the Hebrew Bible’s relational notion of “having faith” or “trust” is largely retained, though it does undergo development. The Hebrew root ʾmn (‫—)אמן‬ especially when used in the Hebrew hiphil stem—occurs in a few highly significant passages to underscore the relational aspect between Israel and God (e.g. Gen 15:6; Exod 14:31; Isa 7:9, 28:16, 43:10, 53:1; Hab 2:4). Within Second Temple writings composed in Hebrew, perhaps the most important usage of this verb occurs in the Habakkuk Pesher from the Dead Sea Scrolls. Here those who are labeled as “traitors” (‫בוגדים‬, bwgdym) are said not to have believed (or been obedient to) God’s covenant, nor do they believe what God has revealed to the “the Priest” (perhaps a reference to the faithful group’s leader, the Teacher of Righteousness) about all that is to happen to the final generation (1QpHab ii 3–4 and 6–8, respectively; cf. 4Q419 1.3, 4Q504 7.16). While the agency of the priest as the object of trust marks a development beyond the Hebrew Bible (note, however the agency of the prophet as the object of trust in 2 Chron 20:20), other passages focus more directly upon belief in God with a strong accompanying emphasis on obedience, e.g., to the Torah (so 1QpHab viii 1, following a quotation of Hab 2:4; cf. 4Q364 26a ii 4 with Deut 9:24). On the other hand, the verb also is used with trust relations among humans in mind, as in 4QInstruction (so 4Q416 2 i 16 par. 4Q417 2 i 23 and 4Q418 7b.7). In Hellenistic Judaism, the concepts of faith and faithfulness, which occur frequently, are routinely associated with the Greek word group comprised of πιστεύειν (pisteuein) and its cognates (Bultmann and Weiser 1968: 179–82). The Septuagint almost exclusively translates the Hebrew ʾmn (‫( )אמן‬in the hiphil) with the πιστ- word group through which, as in the Hebrew, the relational aspect is expressed. It remains open to debate whether the Septuagint actually understands πιστεύειν as a perfect equivalent of ʾmn (‫ )אמן‬or in some new sense that is foreign to the normative Greek use of the word group. In any case, however, the Septuagint establishes a strong connection between πιστεύειν (pisteuein) and a distinctively Hebrew understanding of faith and faithfulness, especially on a theological and religious level. Apart from the Septuagint and the early Jewish-Christian literature, πιστεύειν (pisteuein) in Jewish Hellenistic writings (most notably Philo of Alexandria and Flavius Josephus) also regularly reflects the ideas of faith/faithfulness, both in a religious sense and with non-theological, nonreligious connotations (cf. Lührmann 1973). Josephus uses the Greek word group with frequency comparable to that of the New Testament usage, but in a much different sense. For Josephus, faithfulness plays itself out primarily in the realm of human relationships; πιστεύειν (pisteuein) can refer to a marriage vow (J.W. 2.121), to fidelity between good friends (Ant. 6.276), to pledges of good faith (Ant. 1.242), and to political treaties between nations (Ant. 10.108). Even when the faithfulness of God comes into play (e.g. Ant. 17.284), the focus remains on human relationships, and the faithfulness of God serves to underscore the security of that relationship. In other words, God’s faithfulness is invoked as a witness to a human oath of faithfulness. It is thus noteworthy that Josephus’ usage of πιστεύειν (pisteuein) bears little resemblance to that of the Septuagint. This emphasis is perhaps most notable when Josephus recounts those key “faith narratives” of the Hebrew Scriptures in his Jewish Antiquities without employing the Septuagintal use of πιστεύειν (pisteuein). Only in the Maccabean historical narratives (e.g. 1 Macc 10:27, 46), which are much closer to Josephus by way of genre, is a similar understanding of faith/faithfulness in human and political relationships found. Clearly, Josephus is not thinking about trust in God per se when he

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makes use of the word group. Nonetheless, the concept of faithfulness remains prominent in his understanding (Lindsay 1993). Philo of Alexandria similarly employs πιστεύειν (pisteuein) in the sense of faithfulness in the realm of human and interpersonal relationships (e.g. Joseph 258). Faithfulness as a human quality rises for Philo to the realm of “virtue”; indeed, πίστις (pistis) for Philo is “the most perfect of virtues” (Heir 91) and “the queen of virtues” (Abraham 270). For Philo, to possess or to demonstrate πίστις (pistis) is the same as to be labeled with the adjective πιστός (pistos; cf. the “faithfulness of Joseph” in Joseph 258 with Abraham “the faithful [one]” in Posterity 173). The ultimate exemplar of the virtue of faithfulness, of course, is “God alone” (Alleg. Interp. 3.204), and this provides the basis for Philo’s religious use and understanding of faith/faithfulness. In essence, the extent to which faithfulness expresses itself in the realm of human relationships corresponds directly to the extent to which the persons involved in those relationships participate in the faithfulness of God (cf. Names 182 where Philo explicitly makes this connection, quoting from Deut 32:4). Unlike Josephus, Philo more freely uses πιστεύειν (pisteuein) to express the concept of faith in God (e.g. Abraham 268). In many instances Philo employs πιστεύειν θεῷ (pisteuein theō) with specific reference to the faith of Abraham in Genesis 15:6 (e.g. Virtues 216; Names 177–178) and, in this sense, comes closer to Septuagintal usage. Detectable in Philo’s emphasis on faith/faithfulness as a virtue is a subtle but significant theological abstraction, whereby faith in God becomes a prize to be won and thus constitutes a crowning, perhaps psychological, achievement (cf. Rewards 27, 30), in contrast to an existential commitment that is lived out on a day-to-day basis in the context of personal relationships. In this respect, Josephus’ focus upon interpersonal fidelity, though less theologically nuanced, actually better reflects the Septuagint’s understanding of πιστεύειν (pisteuein) (in the light of the Hebrew ‫אמן‬, ’mn word group) than does Philo’s abstract focus upon virtue. The early Christian writings—especially the Gospels (but arguably also Paul)—follow more closely the trajectory of the Septuagint as they give rise to the prominence, both in terms of focus and in frequency of usage, of πιστεύειν (pisteuein) as religious faith terminology and to the prominence of πίστις (pistis) as a key theological concept. Here the focus is primarily upon faith/faithfulness in terms of consistent, persistent, and consequent relationship.

Bibliography R. Bultmann and A. Weiser, “πιστεύω, κτλ,” TDNT 6 (1968): 174–228. D. Lindsay, Josephus and Faith: Πιστις and Πιστευειν as Faith Terminology in the Writings of Flavius Josephus and in the New Testament, AGAJU 19 (Leiden: Brill, 1993). D. Lührmann, “Pistis in Judentum,” ZNTW 64 (1973): 19–38. DENNIS R. LINDSAY

Related entries: Grace (Ḥesed); Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of.

Fallen Angels The myth of the fallen angels (1 En. 6–11) introduces within the structure of ancient Judaism the division of the supernatural world into two opposing groups. On the one side, there stands 265

Fallen Angels

an angelic world faithful to God, while on the other side, there is a group of angelic beings who engage in sinful behavior that leads to the spread of evil on the earth. Although the myth forms part of the Enochic Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36), commonly dated to the 3rd century bce, it is an independent literary composition. The narrative of the angelic descent and sin exerted a considerable influence on the Enochic tradition in particular and on early Judaism in general (Stuckenbruck 2014); however, taking into consideration its literary form and content, the myth does not find any unequivocally parallel text in Second Temple literature. Content.  Led by Shemiḥazah, 200 spiritual beings—called Watchers, angels, or sons of God in the Aramaic text and its Greek versions—descend from heaven on Mount Hermon in order to mate with earthly women and beget children for themselves (1 En. 6:1–7). As a result of this sinful action, women give birth to spiritual warriors of enormous size who devour human beings and the product of their labor, also committing acts of violence against the animals (7:1–5). In addition, the fallen angels teach women different types of knowledge related to medicine, magic, witchcraft, astrology, metals, stones, and dyes (8:1–3). Having suffered from the Watchers’ teaching and the violence of the demonic warriors, both the earth (7:6) and dying humanity (8:4; 9:3) raise their complaint to the gates of heaven. The four angels Sariel (Uriel), Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael intercede with God (9:4–11) who sends them to bind the rebellious angels for further punishment and judgment, to exterminate the giants in a fratricidal war, and to restore the earth to its pristine state of blessing, fertility, and purity (chs. 10–11). Meaning.  The beginning of the myth (chs. 6–7: angels’ decision to mate with women, the birth of the demonic warriors) is partially related to Genesis 6:1–2, 3 (A. Wright 2015), but the rest of the myth is not directly dependent on the flood account in Genesis 6–9. The whole story has usually been interpreted as written in northern Israel in the context of the devastating wars of the Diadochi in Palestine at the end of the 4th century bce (Nickelsburg 2001: 170). Forbidden knowledge transmitted by Asael, one of the rebellious angels (8:1), is purportedly linked with the Greek myth of Prometheus, who brings to humanity knowledge about metals (Nickelsburg 2001: 192–93). Interpreted in light of 1 Enoch 12–16, the mating of the angels with women would, to a certain extent, reflect the exogamous marriages of the Levitical priests as attested in other Second Temple literary sources (Suter 1979). Some recent interpretative proposals suggest that the negative presentation of angelic knowledge in the Enochic myth represents a rejection of the Mesopotamian polytheistic religion and knowledge, reacting to those Jews who accept some parts of that knowledge (Bhayro 2005). The angelic descent and siring of the gigantic progenies etiologically explains the birth of the demonic world and indicates how it is eliminated. A comparison with the literary structure of the Ea-Marduk incantation in the Sumero-Akkadian exorcistic tradition supports such an interpretation (Drawnel 2016).

Bibliography H. Drawnel, “1 Enoch 6–11 Interpreted in Light of Mesopotamian Incantation Literature,” Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels (2016), 245–84. D. Suter, “Fallen Priest, Fallen Angel: The Problem of Family Purity in 1 Enoch 6–16,” HUCA 50 (1979): 115–35. HENRYK DRAWNEL

Related entries: Astronomy and Astrology; Birth, Miraculous; Demons and Exorcism; Genesis, Book of; Giants, Book of; Judgment; Marriage; Purification and Purity. 266

Family

Family The household—byt ʾb (Heb. ‫)בית אב‬, oikos (Gk. οἶκος), familia (Lat.)—in antiquity was the social unit that most closely corresponds to the term “family” today. Yet this unit was typically larger than the nuclear family and often included various relatives and slaves. In the GrecoRoman world a household included other dependents as well, who did not necessarily live in the same house but for whom the head of the household was a patron. In general, at marriage a young woman moved to her husband’s home and then belonged to his household. Marriage between relatives (endogamy) was a traditional and acceptable idea (Gen 24 and 29) and is promoted in Tobit (Tob 1:9; 3:15–17; 6:10–13) and Jubilees (Jub. 4:15–16, 27–28; cf. Jdt 8:2) in order to preserve genealogical purity (Wassén 2005: 78–80). Although endogamous marriages were quite common, it was always within the parameters set in Leviticus 18:6–17 concerning incest. Against common opinion, marriage between an uncle and a niece was considered incestuous in the Qumran movement (e.g. CD A v 7–11; 11Q19 lxvi 15–17). Nevertheless, there is no critique in the Dead Sea Scrolls of marriage between cousins, which may have been a common form of endogamy. Having children was considered a blessing and also a divine command (Gen 1:28) while barrenness was viewed as a tragedy (e.g. Gen 15–16; 29–30). The close bond between family members is taken for granted in many stories (e.g. Tob 5:17–6:1; Sus 63). To be surrounded by many children amounted to a good ending of life. On the model of Genesis 49, according to which Jacob blesses his twelve sons before his death, the genre of a “testament” became popular in the late Second Temple period. The Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, e.g., provides final words from each of the patriarchs to their children, and sometimes also to their grandchildren, and emphasizes ethical teaching. The Testament of Job pays special attention to the three daughters of Job, who are given special gifts (T. Job 46–50). Traditionally, education of children was the responsibility of parents (Deut 4:9; 6:7; Prov 1:8; 4:1–4; 6:20). The testament genre noted above exemplifies how parents are supposed to transmit basic ethical teaching to their children (cf. Tob 1:8; 4:1–21). The mother in 4 Maccabees 18:10–19 reminds her seven sons (in the face of death) of the law and the prophets that their father had taught them. The father is also said to have recited proverbs, sung psalms, and told stories about biblical heroes. Josephus reflects a similar idea. He claims that Jews knew the laws by heart, since they had been learning them from “the very first moment of consciousness” (Ag. Ap. 2.178). Evidently such teaching is assumed to take place at home (cf. Jub. 8:2; 11:16). The Rule of the Congregation (1QSa i 7-8) provides regulations for the formal education of children that focuses on laws, which are reminiscent of prescriptions in Mishnah Pirqe ’Abot (m. ’Abot 5:21). That such formal education took place within the Qumran movement, which was highly literate, is hardly surprising and should not be taken as evidence that such training was common (Wassén 2012). Family relationships ideally were marked by internal loyalty according to a patriarchal order whereby children would honor their parents (Exod 20:12; Deut 5:16; throughout Tobit) and husbands would exert authority over their wives (Gen 3:16). Such hierarchy is promoted at times in wisdom texts. Accordingly, Ben Sira encourages children to honor their parents throughout their lives (Sir 3:1–16; 7:27–28; cf. Prov 15:20; 23:22). The author warns about a strong-willed daughter (Sir 26:10–12; 42:9–14) and promotes physical discipline of children (Sir 30:7–13; cf.

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Prov 13:24; 23:13–14). A main virtue of a wife is to be modest and submissive to her husband (Sir 25:13–26:9; 26:13–27). In Proverbs, in contrast, the good wife is quite a strong character who runs the household of an estate while her husband is in the city gates (Prov 31:10–31). The teacher of 4QInstruction also upholds traditional values when he presents the family hierarchy as established at creation (4Q416 2 iii 15–iv 13; Rey 2015). He emphasizes that the husband, not the father, rules over the woman and stresses the importance of honoring both parents, “for they are the womb that was pregnant with thee.” Notable is the direct address to a woman in the fragmentary 4Q415 2 ii 1–9, which is a unique feature of instruction in Second Temple literature outside the New Testament. She is instructed to stay close to her husband, and possibly to honor her father-in-law and behave properly (the details are lost), for which she will be praised. The teacher also encourages mutual respect between the spouses in that the male addressee is encouraged to treat his wife properly (4Q416 2 ii 21; iii 21). Since the households made up the building blocks of society, the internal hierarchy of the family was considered an important matter for maintaining societal order. This perspective underlies the household codes in the New Testament, whereby the deutero-Pauline authors encourage the members of their congregations to accept the traditional patriarchal structure (Eph 5:21–6:9; Col 3:18-4:1). Similar to 4QInstruction, the wife is included among those instructed (Wold 2008; Wright 2004). These texts enforce the hierarchy between parents and children, husbands and wives, and owners and slaves. The exhortation to the dominant members of the pairs not to abuse their power is noteworthy.

Bibliography J.-S. Rey, “4QInstruction and Its Relevance for Understanding Early Christian Writings,” in Jesus, Paulus und die Texte von Qumran, ed. J. Frey and E. E. Popkes, WUNT 2.390 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 359–81. C. Wassén, “On the Education of Children in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses 41.3 (2012): 350–63. B. G. Wold, “Family Ethics in 4QInstruction and the New Testament,” NovT 50 (2008): 286–300. B. G. Wright, III, “Wisdom and Women at Qumran,” DSD 11.2 (2004): 240–61. CECILIA WASSÉN

Related entries: Celibacy; Education; Genealogies; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Marriage and Divorce; Pauline Letters; Proverbs, Book of; Purification and Purity; Sexuality; Slavery; Tobit, Book of; Wisdom Literature.

Fasting Fasting refers to the practice of abstaining from eating and drinking for a preset period of time, usually at least a day, for religious reasons. It is a universal religious phenomenon, present in many parts of the world before the Second Temple period. In addition to the fixed Day of Atonement, biblical fasts were called to ask for deliverance in wartime, for assistance in times of trouble (e.g. drought or locust invasions), as public or private expressions of mourning, and as acts of repentance. Fasts, both individual and public, find mention in a number of Second Temple sources. Evidently the early Second Temple period saw intensification of the practice of fasting among Jews, as exemplified by the three-day fast in Esther (4:16) and the fasts referred to in the books 268

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of Ezra (8:21–23, 9:5–10:6), Nehemiah (1:4, 9:1), and Daniel (9:3, 10:2–3). A culture of multiple fasts perhaps constitutes the backdrop for Megillat Taʿanit (The Scroll of Fasting), a late Second Temple Pharisaic work listing days on which it is forbidden to fast. Tacitus (Hist. 5.4.3) also testifies to frequent fasts among the Jews (cf. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.282; Matt 9:14), and a similar phenomenon can be inferred from Tertullian (On Fasting 16). The closing of the period saw an identifiable increase in the tendency to fasting and asceticism in the wake of the national disaster engendered by the destruction of the Second Temple (t. Sot. 15:11–12). Nonetheless, during the late Second Temple period and afterwards, some circles expressed reservations regarding the practice (Matt 9:14–15; Mark 2:18–20; Luke 5:33–35; b. Ta‘an. 11a). It is noteworthy that there is no evidence in the Dead Sea Scrolls for the existence of any fast days, private or public, except for the Day of Atonement (cf. 1QpHab xi 4–8; CD vi 19; 4Q265 7.4; 4Q508 2.3). The detailed description of public fast days in m. Taʿanit (1:4–3:8), which also designates when public fasts should be declared, preserves some Second Temple traditions (2:5, 3:6). For the Mishnah, the most prominent occasion prompting a fast was lack of rain. Other prevailing grounds for public fasts are wartime (e.g. 1 Macc 3:47; 2 Macc 13:12; Josephus, Life 290) and national mourning (e.g. 1 Bar 1:5; 2 Bar 5:7; 4 Ezra 10:4, 25–49; Elephantine [Cowley 30:15, 31:14]; Josephus, Ant. 5.36–37). Apart from mass participation, the public nature of these fasts included expressions of mourning (e.g. tearing of clothes), display of desecrated ritual objects, recitation of prayers, sermons by leading personalities, and the reading of selections from sacred books. There is more evidence for individual, as opposed to public, fasts coming from the Second Temple period. Prompting such fasts were personal or public mourning (4 Ezra 5:20, 10:4), repentance (e.g. Jos. Asen. 13:9; Pss. Sol. 3:8; T. Sim. 3:5, T. Mos. 9:6–7), self-control and prevention of sin (T. Jos. 3:4, 4:8, 10:1–2), preparation for an apocalyptic revelation (2 Bar 20:5– 6, 43:3; 4 Ezra 5:13–20, 6:31–35), ascetic piety (Luke 2:37, 18:12; Mark 2:18), and combinations of the above (e.g. Jdt 8:6; 2 Bar 12:5; 4 Ezra 5:20). Some of these personal fasts involved only partial abstinence from food and drink (such as meat and wine; see T. Reu. 1:10; T. Jud. 15:4; cf. m. Ta‘an. 4:7) and not a total fast. Fasts carry a variety of underlying significations. Intrinsic to fasting is the self-abnegation that manifests the sorry state of the persons fasting; together with prayer, fasting serves as a means of convincing God to answer requests and to effect release from difficulty (y. Ta‘an. 65a). The self-injury inherent in fasting also concretizes its accompanying harsh degradation and the necessity for altered behavior and repentance (Sir 34:31). Fasting can also be seen as a substitute for sacrifice or as facilitating its acceptance (Jer 14:12, m. Ta‘an. 4:3; b. Ber. 17a; Urbach 1979: 442–45), as an expression of austere piety, which purifies the individual and brings him closer to God (Philo, Moses 2.23–24), or as a vehicle enabling the individual to experience apocalyptic visions and revelations of celestial secrets. These aims of fasting exhibit continuity not only with the biblical world but also with the larger Hellenistic world (Tropper 1999). Four Commemorative Fast Days.  After the destruction of the First Temple, Jerusalem, four fixed fast days were established to commemorate the destruction and fall of the kingdom of Judah (Zech 8:19) in the fourth, fifth, seventh, and tenth months. The building of the Second Temple raised the question about the observance of these fast days (Zech 7:3); none of the preserved sources convey, however, whether these fasts were in fact continued or not. 269

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Scholarly discussion concerning the observance of fast days during the Second Temple period centers mainly on the Ninth of Ab (the fifth month), which became the date in which the destruction of both the First and Second Temple was commemorated. Relying on m. Roš Haš. 1:3, Epstein has argued that Jews fasted on the Ninth of Ab even during the Second Temple period (Epstein 1964: 1012–14), at least during its last hundred years. Others (e.g. Alon 1980: 265–66) take the opposite position, claiming that Jews did not fast on this day at the time. No references to any other commemorative fasts have survived in the sources. After the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 ce, Jews definitely observed the fast of the Ninth of Ab, and probably the fast of the 17th of Tammuz (the fourth month) as well (m. Ta‘an. 4:6), but there is no evidence for the observance of the other two commemorative fasts during the Tannaitic period.

Bibliography G. Alon, The Jews in Their Land in the Talmudic Age (70-640 C.E.) (Jerusalem: Magnes Press). J. N. Epstein, Mavo le-nosah ha-Mishnah (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1964). A. Tropper, “Fasting: Its Meaning and Its Underlying Motives during the Second Temple Period” (Jerusalem: M.A. Thesis at Hebrew University, 1999). E. E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, 2nd ed. (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1979). NOAH HACHAM

Related entries: Asceticism; Daniel, Book of; Diet in Palestine; Esther, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Festivals and Holy Days; Nehemiah, Book of; Penitential Prayer.

Festivals and Holy Days In Second Temple Judaism “festivals and holy days” were annually fixed occasions (‫מועדים‬, môʿădîm) which called for the collective observance of specified rituals and a shared contemplation of particular institutions, ideas, events, or legends. These occasions might be understood from several vantage points (e.g. Siggelkow-Berner 2011; Daise 2014). Here they will be considered by tracking three dynamics relative to their framework in Torah: the precise days on which they were to be observed (calendar); the increase in their number (density); and the expansion of their imagery (symbolism). Festivals and Holy Days in Torah.  Second Temple festal development begins with the Priestly redaction of Torah. As editors of prior tradition, he Priestly scribes preserved three festivals proper (‫חגים‬, ḥaggîm) from earlier festal lists: Unleavened Bread/Passover, Harvest/Weeks, and Ingathering/Booths (Exod 23:14–17; 34:18, 22–24; Deut 16:1–17). They also modified those ḥaggîm (‫ )חגים‬by assimilating them into a more elaborate system (Lev 23; 25; Num 9:1–14; 28–29); among those changes, three formed points of departure for later developments. First, the number of môʿădîm (‫ )מועדים‬was increased: Passover and Unleavened Bread were divided into two discrete occasions; a delayed Passover was permitted under certain circumstances; two days were added to the liturgical annum (Trumpets and Atonement); and the annual cycle of the ḥaggîm (‫ )חגים‬was set within a more elaborate schema of daily (‫תמיד‬, tāmîd), weekly (Sabbath), monthly (new moon), septennial (Sabbatical Year), and semi-centennial (Jubilee Year) rotations. Second, the môʿădîm (‫ )מועדים‬were scheduled by numbered days of the month (or, for calculating the Festival of Weeks, by an interval from a Sabbath) rather than by seasonal rhythms. Third, the 270

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agricultural and salvation-historical (exodus) aspects of the earlier ḥaggîm (‫ )חגים‬were minimized in favor of rubrics for cultic ritual. The Calendar. The second of these modifications gave rise to the festal issue which has attracted most attention in Second Temple studies: the môʿădîm (‫ )מועדים‬and the Jewish calendar. From the Hellenistic period (and perhaps earlier) the Jerusalem cult calculated the months of its calendar by lunar cycles: the priests measured months roughly at 29–30 days each and reset their annual recession from the solar annum by intercalating a 13th month every two to three years. At the same time other Jewish groups championed a strictly solar calendar, calculating months by symmetrically dividing a 364-day ephemeris into four blocks of 30-, 30-, and 31-day units. Inasmuch as môʿădîm (‫ )מועדים‬were now scheduled by numbered days within each month, the dates on which they were to be observed differed between these calendars. Further, where the shorter annual cycles of the Jerusalem calendar caused the “holy convocations” of môʿădîm (‫ )מועדים‬to compete with Sabbath observance, the relative congruence between the 364-day calendar and the solar year insured that no such clash would occur (see Talmon with Ben-Dov 2001). Questions remain as to whether the 364-day calendar was original to the Jerusalem cult or a sectarian reaction to Hellenism, and whether it was actually practiced or merely a utopian vision. It is clear, however, that during the Second Temple period festal conflict transpired as to whether “a day of testimony” was being made “worthless” and “a profane day” made “a festival” (Jub. 6:37; translation VanderKam 1989). Density.  Further, as holy days were added to the ḥaggîm (‫ )חגים‬by the Priestly redactors, so were they added to the Priestly môʿădîm (‫ )מועדים‬by later Jewish groups. In Catherine Bell’s terms, there was an increase in the “ritual density” of môʿădîm (‫)מועדים‬, the ratio of sacred to profane days in the liturgical year (Bell 1997: 173). This was partly a reflexive response to wider developments: e.g. the recapture of the Jerusalem citadel (1 Macc 13:49–53); the day of victory over Nikanor (2 Macc 15:1–36); the Hasmonean purification of the Jerusalem Temple (1 Macc 4:36–59; 2 Macc 10:1–8); and the sacralization of literature promoting such events or other alleged events (1–2 Maccabees for Hanukkah; Esther for Purim). In other cases the increase arose from further reflection on the festal year: certain days within Priestly môʿădîm (‫)מועדים‬ were revalued to be festivals in their own right (e.g. the Waving of the ‘Omer in Philo, Spec. 2.41, 162–175 or the Temple Scroll, 11QTa xviii 1–10); biblical events other than the exodus were memorialized (the four days commemorating the flood in Jubilees 6:23–31); and occasional or seasonally scheduled customs were assigned precise calendrical dates (the ordination of priests, the first fruit offerings of wine and oil, and the collection of wood for Temple sacrifice in the Temple Scroll). Symbolism.  Finally, though the exodus imagery attached to ḥaggîm (‫ )חגים‬was reduced by Priestly redactors in favor of cultic regulations, its symbolic significance was revived and augmented by later writers. Commemoration of the exodus continued, notably being transferred from Passover to the crucifixion of Jesus by the Early Jesus Movement. But festal imagery also expanded, along at least four trajectories. Two have already been noted: the celebration of postbiblical events (Hanukkah) and the commemoration of other biblical stories (e.g., Hanukkah) and (e.g., the four days memorializing the flood in Jubilees). Added to these were the recasting 271

Flood

of Priestly symbolism (e.g. the association of Trumpets with creation in LAB 13:6) and the merging of festal features with Hellenistic thought forms (e.g. Philo’s Passover, allegorized as the “cleansing of the soul”; Spec. 2.147).

Bibliography C. Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). M. A. Daise, “Feasts and Festivals: Second Temple and Hellenistic Judaism,” EBR 8 (2014): 1065–68. B. Siggelkow-Berner, Die jüdischen Festen im Bellum Judaicum des Flavius Josephus, WUNT 2/306 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). S. Talmon with J. Ben-Dov, “320–330, 337, 394 1–2: Introduction,” DJD 21 (2001): 1–36. M. A. DAISE

Related entries: Astronomical Book (1 Enoch 72–82); Astronomy and Astrology; Calendar; Jesus of Nazareth; Jubilees, Book of; Otot; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sun and Moon.

Flood The story of a global flood appears in Genesis 6–9, is referred to in Ezekiel 14:14–20 and Isaiah 54:9, and has parallels in the literature of ancient Mesopotamia (e.g. Atrahasis; cf. Kvanvig 2011: 13–82). According to Genesis, God sends a flood to destroy humankind on account of its wickedness. Only Noah and his family are spared. The flood story figures prominently in Jewish literature of the Second Temple era, especially as a paradigm for understanding the eschatological judgment. Some interpretations of the flood story in early Jewish literature are attempts to resolve difficulties in the Genesis account (Sharon and Tishel 2010), while others are driven more by the concerns of particular interpreters (Lewis 1968). The Flood as Paradigmatic Judgment.  Early Jewish literature makes frequent use of the flood narrative as the paradigmatic example of divine judgment (e.g. CD A ii 10–12; Wis 10:3–8; 1 En. 106:13–107:2). In many texts, the flood prefigures the coming eschatological judgment (e.g. 1 En. 93:4; Sib. Or. 1.199–274). As an example of divine punishment or deliverance, the flood tradition is sometimes paired with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (e.g. Sir 16:7–8; Wis 10:3–8; Jude 5–8). The flood is also very closely associated in Second Temple literature with the foregoing story about the sons of God and the daughters of humanity (Gen 6:1–4; cf. Kvanvig 2011: 373–94; see also 1 En. 6–11; Jub. 5–10). Early Jewish texts offer various reasons for the flood (e.g. punishment for human sin, punishment for superhuman sin, salvation of the righteous), and the reason given often corresponds to the rhetorical purposes of the interpreter. The Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36) contains perhaps the most extensive retelling of the flood and the events surrounding it (so also the Book of Giants). In this work, the deluge is God’s response to the problems created by the angelic Watchers, who taught a number of forbidden crafts to humans (1 En. 8) and took human wives (chs. 6–7), spawning a violent race of giants (7:3–5). This composite document actually contains differing explanations for God’s extreme measure: to save humankind from the Watchers’ violent offspring (10:15), to heal the earth from the desolation wrought by the Watchers’ teaching (10:4–8), and to destroy the descendants of Cain for their ancestor’s murder of Abel (22:5–7; see also Wis 10:3–4; Gen. Rab. 22:12). Interestingly, 272

Flood

although punishment for sin, whether human or superhuman, is certainly an aspect of the story as told in the Book of the Watchers, this work presents the flood foremost as an act of salvation or vindication of the righteous (Stokes 2013). This paradigmatic function of the flood can be observed in numerous other early Jewish texts, serving various rhetorical purposes. Jubilees includes such an emphasis in its retelling of the tradition (Jub. 7:21–25). In the Damascus Document at CD A ii 19–21, the destruction of the giants by the flood is a warning to those who would follow their “guilty inclination” and “promiscuous eyes.” Elsewhere the Damascus Document cites the fact that animals entered the ark by twos as support for its contention that a man should not have more than one wife (CD A iv 20–v 1; García Martínez 1998). In Wisdom 10:3–4, the flood story exemplifies the destruction of those who persecute the righteous and the salvation of the world by “wisdom.” Matthew 24:36– 44 compares the coming of the Son of Man with the flood, warning of the suddenness of God’s judgment. Second Peter 3:1–7 assures readers that just as God destroyed the world with water, God will one day destroy it with fire, while 1 Peter 3:18–22 compares the salvation of Noah through the flood with the salvation of the elect through baptism. Chronology of the Flood. Several Jewish interpreters attempted to reconcile chronological tensions in the flood narrative and/or to align it with a particular calendrical scheme. One issue that troubled interpreters concerned the precise duration of the flood, about which the Masoretic tradition and the Septuagint disagree (Kugel 1998: 221; cf. both versions in Gen 7:11 and 8:14). According to Jubilees, the deluge lasted precisely one year (Jub. 5:23, 31). Jubilees’ retelling also eliminates the doublets and some of the other inconsistencies of the Genesis narrative (Jub. 5:1–6:38; Van Ruiten 1998). Both Jubilees and 4QCommentary on Genesis A (4Q252) align the events of the flood with a 364-day solar calendar (Jacobus 2013). Josephus, as well, expresses concern for chronology, especially with regard to the date of the flood: he follows the Septuagint, dating the flood to 2,262 years from the creation of Adam (Josephus, Ant. 1.82; Lewis 1968: 77–81; Tuval 2010).

Bibliography F. García Martínez, “Interpretations of the Flood in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Interpretations of the Flood, ed. F. García Martínez and G. P. Luttikhuizen, TBN 1 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 86–108. H. R. Jacobus, “Flood Calendars and Birds of the Ark in the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q252 and 4Q254A), Septuagint, and Ancient Near Eastern Texts,” in Opening Heaven’s Floodgates: The Genesis Flood Narrative, Its Context, and Reception, ed. J. M. Silverman, BI 12 (Piscataway: Gorgias, 2013), 85–112. N. Sharon and M. Tishel, “Distinctive Traditions about Noah and the Flood in Second Temple Jewish Literature,” Noah and His Book(s) (2010), 143–65. R. E. Stokes, “Flood Stories in 1 Enoch 1–36: Diversity, Unity, and Ideology,” in Opening Heaven’s Floodgates: The Genesis Flood Narrative, Its Context, and Reception, ed. J. M. Silverman, BI 12 (Piscataway: Gorgias, 2013), 231–47. M. Tuval, “The Role of Noah and the Flood in Judean Antiquities and Against Apion by Flavius Josephus,” Noah and His Book(s) (2010), 167–81. J. T. A. G. M. Van Ruiten, “The Interpretation of the Flood Story in the Book of Jubilees,” in Interpretations of the Flood, ed. F. García Martínez and G. P. Luttikhuizen, TBN 1 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 66–85. RYAN E. STOKES

Related entries: Cain and Abel; Eschatology; Fallen Angels; Genesis, Book of; Genesis Commentaries (4Q252–254, 254a); Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Judgment; Violence. 273

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Food and Eating—see Diet in Palestine (pt 4) Fortresses and Palaces The fortresses and palaces of the Hasmoneans and Herod the Great provided the physical arenas for crucial political and diplomatic transactions in early Jewish society. Political assassinations and executions occurred in these spaces. Royal families sought refuge here in times of trouble, and in times of peace, they enjoyed their luxuries and recreational features. Important diplomatic visitors were entertained here in high style, leaving a permanent impression of the grandeur and wealth of ancient Judea. Many of these sites further played strategic roles in the two revolts against Rome (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). In order to appreciate the diverse characteristics of these structures, the terms “palace” and “fortress” are used with some flexibility. In essence, a palace is a “magnificent domicile” (Netzer 2006). Some of the more consistent features of early Jewish palaces include bathhouses, banqueting/reception halls (triclinia), residential quarters, and courtyards, as well as lavish interior frescoes, mosaics, and decorative molding. Gardens and pools further incorporate nature into their architecture; and ritual bathing pools reflect religious observance. The construction of palaces within fortified enclosures might also produce a “palace-fortress.” Likewise, many fortresses also possess internal palatial features. In several cases, architectural daring maximized diverse natural topographies and stunning vistas throughout the land of Israel. Jericho.  Substantial archaeological remains of palaces may be found at Jericho, where the Hasmoneans and Herod constructed winter palaces along the Wadi Qelt. The Hasmonean palaces emerged in multiple phases, beginning with John Hyrcanus I (134–104 bce) and continuing after the death of Salome Alexandra (67 bce). Herod also built three palaces. The first represented a modest endeavor at a time when Cleopatra held dominion over the region; after her death, Herod expanded his developments (cf. Josephus, Ant. 16.142–145; J.W. 1.417). Herod’s second palace included a northern wing built around a central peristyle courtyard and a southern wing with bathhouses that incorporated the ruins of earlier Hasmonean pools. Herod’s third palace formed an impressive complex that spanned the northern and southern banks of the Wadi Qelt, abounding in extensive bathhouses, architectural gardens, and large pools. Interior design elements reflect Herod’s creative adaptation of decorative styles from the greater Roman world. Desert Fortresses.  The unique geography of the Judean wilderness made it a secure retreat from Jerusalem. Stretching from Alexandrium in the north to the Dead Sea in the south, the Hasmoneans constructed a sequence of desert fortifications. The locations of the fortresses suggest that they were positioned precisely for their topographic advantages. On the eastern perimeter of the Samaritan hills, Alexandrium guarded the Jordan valley and the important threshold between Judea and Galilee (J.W. 1.248–253, Ant. 14.330–491). Immediately west of Jericho, the three fortresses of Dagon (Doq, Docus; 1 Macc 16:15–17; J.W. 1.54–160, Ant. 13.228–230), Nuseib Uweishira, and Cypros further secured Jericho, as well as its road to Jerusalem. Two of these fortresses were destroyed by Pompey in 63 bce (Strabo, Geogr. 16.2.40), yet later renovated by Herod. Cypros, in particular, received the distinction of being named for his mother (J.W. 1.417, Ant. 16.143). Three additional fortresses surround the Dead Sea. To the south of Jericho (15 km) stood Hyrcania, where Herod would have his son Antipater buried (J.W.1.664). To the east of the Dead Sea, 274

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Figure 4.49  North-northwest aerial view of Masada.

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Machaerus offered additional defense from Arabia (J.W. 7.163–177); according to Josephus, it was also the site where John the Baptist was executed (Ant. 18.109–119). Herod exceeded the earlier Hasmonean fortifications with his prolific construction at Masada (Figure 4.49) and Herodium (cf. Figure 4.53). Among Herod’s most significant achievements as a builder was the northern palace at Masada, which cascades along three steeply descending terraces and offers panoramic vistas to the north, west, and east. Herodium represents one of his most tightly constructed palacefortresses. At the base of Herodium, further palaces, pools, and architectural gardens formed an extended complex. Jerusalem.  Herod’s magnificent palaces and fortresses at Jerusalem are primarily available to modern study through Josephus’ descriptions. The Antonia fortress stood at the northwest convergence of the Jerusalem Temple’s outer walls (J.W. 5.238–246). The Antonia was built upon the remains of an earlier Hasmonean fortification (the “baris,” Ant. 15.403–409) and featured four sides with high, sheer walls to prevent scaling. At each corner stood a tower, with the highest of these positioned at the southeast (70 cubits) overlooking the Temple precincts. The plan of the Antonia, thus, apparently resembles the tetrapyrgion, an ancient fortification style with towers at all four corners of a centralized structure (Netzer 2006). Josephus offers a broad vantage point of its role in the defense of Jerusalem: “For as the Temple imposed a fortress upon the city, so the Antonia stood over the Temple; and those within it were the guardians of all three” (J.W.5.245; author’s translation). On the western perimeter of the upper city, Herod established his own palace (J.W. 5.176– 181; Ant. 15.318). The palace complex included two vast banqueting halls named Caesareum and Agrippeum, which were complemented by additional courtyards, pools, and architectural gardens. The prominence of the two halls may suggest a kind of symmetrical mirroring in the palace’s architectural plan. The palace was fully enclosed by a wall with ornamental towers, yet further to the north stood three multistory towers named for Herod’s most intimate associates, Hippicus (his friend), Phasael (his brother), and Mariamne (his queen) (J.W. 5.161–175). The towers were multicolored, with each having its own distinct features. Phasael, e.g., included a bathhouse and was the tallest (90 cubits), resembling the lighthouse of Pharos; Mariamne was the shortest (55 cubits), yet contained within it the most illustrious designs. Together the three towers and Antonia provided superior security for the city. Caesarea.  As Herod’s extensive rebuilding of Jerusalem continued into the 20s, he also launched the ambitious construction of a well-designed Hellenistic port city on the Mediterranean coast at Caesarea Maritima. Upon the bedrock of a promontory extending 100 m into the Mediterranean, Herod constructed another impressive palace. Taking advantage of the land’s unusual extension into the sea, the Promontory Palace featured a central pool and courtyard along a longitudinal axis with a western view of the sea and harbor. Inscriptional evidence at the palace may also confirm that later Roman procurators and governors utilized the site as their own headquarters in Judea.

Bibliography I. Nielsen, Hellenistic Palaces: Tradition and Renewal, Studies in Hellenistic Civilization 5 (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1998). I. Shatzman, The Armies of the Hasmoneans and Herod, TSAJ 25 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991).

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Y. Tsafrir, “The Desert Fortresses of Judaea in the Second Temple Period,” Jerusalem Cathedra 2 (1982): 120–45. CASEY D. ELLEDGE

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Baths; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Entertainment Structures; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Masada, Archaeology of; Masada, History of; Josephus, Writings of; Roman Governors; Romanization; Wealth and Poverty.

Frontinus Frontinus, Sextus Iulius (c.40–103/4 ce), was a high Roman official under the Flavians and a technical and military author who mentioned the Jews once in his Strategems. Frontinus served as urban praetor in 70, as consul in 72 or 73, and as governor of Britannia in 73/4–77; further, he joined Domitian on his German campaign in 82/3, was proconsul of Asia in 86, served as superintendent of aqueducts in 97, and held a second (suffect) consulship in 98 and a third (ordinary) consulship in 100. Some of Frontinus’ works are lost (On Military Matters) or survive only in quotations (On the Art of Land Surveying). On the Aqueducts of Rome is an important work on the history, capacity, maintenance, and administration of water supply. Another major work is Stratagems, a manual of military strategy from Greek and Roman history intended for use by generals. Frontinus mentions the Jews in the context of his discussion of how to choose the time for battle (GLAJJ 1.510–511). He says that Vespasian attacked the Jews on Sabbath (“the day of Saturn”), “a day on which it is sinful for them to do any business, and so defeated them” (Strategems II 1, 17, LCL). The historical value of this statement is questionable for two reasons. First, since Frontinus refers to the conquest of Jerusalem, the claim that Vespasian attacked and took it is evidently false. However, since Titus acted in his father’s name, this could be considered a minor mistake. The main problem lies in Frontinus’ allegation that the Jews were defeated because they did not engage in warfare on the Sabbath. This contradicts many other sources that clearly state that the Jews did not refrain from fighting back on the Sabbath not only during the revolt of 66–74 ce (e.g. Josephus, J.W. 2.517) but even as early as at the beginning of the Hasmonean uprising (1 Macc 2:41).

Bibliography W. Heinemann, Frontius: Strategems, Aqueducts of Rome, LCL 147 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1925). MICHAEL TUVAL

Related entries: Aqueducts; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Maccabean; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals.

Gabriel Gabriel is an angel who appears in a number of Second Temple Jewish writings. The name Gabriel (Heb. ‫גבריאל‬, gabrî’ēl) is best translated “God is my warrior” (see further Gieschen 1998: 131). Gabriel is one of only two named angels in the entire Hebrew Bible. While the other is the angel Michael in the Book of Daniel (10:13, 21; 12:1), it is noteworthy that Raphael appears in the Book of Tobit (3:17; 5:4; 7:8; 8:2; 9:1, 5; 11:2, 7; 12:15). In Daniel Gabriel acts as an interpreter of visions (Dan 8:16, 9:21)—he functions as the quintessential angelus interpres. Though not made explicit, it seems that Gabriel is also “the man clothed in linen” of Daniel 10:5,

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who, like other angelic figures in Second Temple literature, has a luminous and fiery appearance (Sullivan 2004: 30–31). He thus acts as an interpreter for Daniel in chapters 10–12. Daniel also hints at a more militaristic role for Gabriel, because the speaker, probably Gabriel (Michalak 2012: 124–25), says, “There is none who contends by my side against these [the Princes of Persia and Greece] except Michael, your prince” (Dan 10:21). In other Second Temple writings such as Qumran War Scroll (1QM) and 1 Enoch, the duties of Gabriel move beyond the interpretation of visions toward more militaristic and juridical ones. In the War Scroll, “Gabriel” appears alongside of the names of Michael, Raphael, and Sariel (1QM ix 14–16). The passage states that believers are to write the names of these four angels on the shields of the towers. This preparation for the eschatological battle is in keeping with the outlook of the War Scroll that angels will be with the Sons of Light during the final battle (1QM vii 6). Gabriel’s more active role in carrying out God’s justice is seen in the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36). In 1 Enoch 9 Gabriel, along with Michael, Sariel, and Raphael, intercedes on behalf of those unjustly killed on the earth, and in 10:9 God sends Gabriel, saying, “Go, Gabriel, to the bastards, to the half-breeds, to the sons of miscegenation; and destroy the sons of the watchers from among the sons of men; send them against one another in a war of destruction.” Later, in 1 Enoch 20:7, Gabriel is said to be “one of the holy angels, who is in charge of paradise and the serpents and the cherubim.” In a different section of 1 Enoch, the Similitudes of Enoch (1 En. 37–71), Gabriel is described as being “in charge of every power” (40:9); moreover, together with the archangels Michael, Raphael, and Phanuel, he will punish the rebellious angels (54:6). In the Gospel of Luke, Gabriel delivers important divine messages. Gabriel announces the birth of John the Baptist to Zechariah (1:19) and the birth of Jesus to the Virgin Mary (1:26). The tradition of births announced by angels can be seen in the Hebrew Bible (cf. Judg 13). Gabriel’s exalted status is reinforced in the Gospel of Luke, where he is referred to as “an angel of the Lord” (1:11 cf. Luke 2:9) and is said to “stand in the presence of God” (1:26). In 2 Enoch 21, Gabriel first encourages Enoch (v. 4) and then carries him up to heaven (v. 6). In 2 Enoch 24:1 Gabriel’s seat at the left hand of God, with Michael seated to the right, demonstrates his exalted status even among divine beings. Lastly, a recently uncovered limestone inscription of uncertain provenance but dated to the 1st century bce called the Hazon Gabriel or “Gabriel Revelation” contains short prophecies modeled on the Hebrew Bible (esp. Zechariah), which may include first-person statements by Gabriel (Col. B, lines 80 and 83; Yardeni and Elizur 2011).

Bibliography A. Yardeni and B. Elizur, “A Hebrew Prophetic Text on Stone from the Early Herodian Period,” in Hazon Gabriel: New Readings of the Gabriel Revelation, ed. M. Henze (2011), 11–29. KEVIN P. SULLIVAN

Related entries: Angels; Fallen Angels; Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Gabriel, Vision of.

Galilee At the dawn of the Second Temple period, Galilee was only lightly settled as a result of Assyrian deportations two centuries earlier. Under the Persians, however, the number of occupied sites 278

Galilee

began to rise as Phoenicians moved inland from the coast and other settlers arrived in Upper Galilee from the northeast. Alexander the Great brought the region into greater contact with Greek influence, and the population continued to grow under his successors in the region, the Ptolemies and Seleucids. The Maccabees reportedly made a few expeditions into Galilee (1 Macc 5:9–23, 11:63–74, 12:39–53) in the mid-2nd century bce, and the Hasmoneans absorbed it into their territory sometime in the late 2nd or early 1st century bce (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule (II) [103–63 bce]). Many sites were abandoned as gentile inhabitants were either expelled or left; at the same time, new sites appeared, apparently founded by Judean colonists (Chancey 2014: 116). By the Early Roman period the region was predominantly Jewish, though gentiles could be found in the cities and border communities (Freyne 1980; Chancey 2005). Galilee became part of the Roman client king Herod the Great’s territory ca. 40 bce (Josephus, Ant. 14.381–389), passed to his son Antipas in 4 bce (Josephus, Ant. 17.318 and J.W. 2.95), and shifted to his grandson Agrippa I from ca. 39 to 44 ce (Josephus, J.W. 2.183 and Ant. 19.350). At that time, it came under direct Roman administration as part of the province of Judea, aside from some eastern portions later given to Agrippa II. Josephus famously describes Galilee’s role in the First Jewish Revolt in The Life and Jewish War, discussing many participating individuals and affected communities by name, and archaeological finds attest to battles at Yodefat (Jotapata; Aviam 2015) and nearby Gamla. Although some Galileans resisted the Romans, Vespasian conquered the area easily in 67 ce as his army moved southwards toward Jerusalem. By 120 ce, a Roman legion and its support personnel had arrived in northern Palestine as a long-term garrison. The subsequent population of Galilee included a larger share of gentiles and Greco-Roman cultural influence became even more identifiable in architecture, inscriptions, coinage, mosaics, and other categories of material culture. Galilee sat out the Second Jewish Revolt (Chancey 2005). Galilee had two major cities, Sepphoris (Zippori), which Antipas renamed Autocratoris to honor Augustus (Josephus, Ant. 18.27), and Tiberias, a new city that Antipas also named in honor of an emperor (Josephus, J.W. 2.168). With several thousand inhabitants apiece, neither was large by imperial standards. Both had some of the features typical of cities in the Roman East, such as officials with Greek titles like archōn (ἄρχων) and agoranomos (ἀγορανόμος), civic coinage with Greek inscriptions, and streets laid partly on a grid pattern. Architectural forms like theaters and bathhouses, however, seem to mostly post-date the First Revolt, though Josephus mentions a stadium at Tiberias (Life 92) (Chancey 2005). Most Galilean communities were villages and small towns devoted primarily to agriculture and, in the vicinity of the Kinneret, fishing. The nature of urban-rural relations and economic conditions in the Roman period has occasioned lively debate among scholars. Some argue that urban elites exploited and oppressed the masses through taxation, the fostering of high levels of indebtedness, and the consolidation of property by large landowners. Others reject this view, suggesting that the plights of commoners varied considerably, with some struggling but others likely prospering. They note ample evidence of a growing population, expanding settlements and usage of arable land, and the presence of luxury items even in modest domiciles at rural sites (Fiensy 2014: 225–26). In terms of practices and beliefs, Galilean Jews no doubt exhibited the same sort of range of similarities and differences as Jews elsewhere. Josephus and the Gospels both note the importance of Sabbath observance, and the pervasiveness of stone vessels in the archaeological record shows that ritual purity was an important concern for many inhabitants. Ossuaries demonstrate the custom of secondary burial, though whether that practice reached Galilee from Judea before or after 70 ce is 279

Gamla

disputed (Chancey 2014: 120). Identifying the relative influence of particular sects has proven to be challenging; the Synoptics depict Jesus frequently interacting with Pharisees in Galilee (e.g. Mark 2:16–28 and 7:1–23 and parallels), but John associates them more with Jerusalem (e.g. John 7:32– 52 and 9:13–10:6). The Synoptics assume that synagogues were a common feature of Galilean life (e.g. Mark 1:21–39 and parallels), though the term might sometimes refer simply to assemblies rather than to buildings. It is clear, however, that some communities had particular buildings to host such gatherings, like the προσευχή (proseuchē) to which Josephus refers at Tiberias (Life 277–303). Such buildings were not necessarily all architecturally distinct, though at least some were, such as the recently discovered 1st-century ce synagogue at Magdala with its unusual stone table or pediment bearing a carved menorah and other iconography associated with the Temple. Neighboring Gamla provides another clear exemplar, and the basalt structure underneath the famous Byzantine period limestone synagogue at Capernaum may also be an earlier synagogue. Galileans had strong cultural links with Judeans, using many of the same ceramic forms and often importing lamps from southern workshops, despite the presence of lamp makers in Galilee itself (Fiensy 2014: 213). After the two revolts, Galilee became the center of Judaism in Palestine as many Jews migrated north from Judea. The region was home to numerous rabbis and their academies, and their version of Judaism grew increasingly influential. In the early 3rd century ce, Judah ha-Nasi compiled many of their oral traditions into the Mishnah, a foundational text for subsequent Jewish law. Synagogues dotted the Late Roman and Byzantine period Galilean landscape (Freyne 1980; Levine 2014: 129–50).

Bibliography M. A. Chancey, Greco-Roman Culture and the Galilee of Jesus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). M. A. Chancey, “The Ethnicities of Galileans,” Galilee (2014), 1:112–28. D. A. Fiensy, “The Galilean House in the Late Second Temple and Mishnaic Periods,” Galilee (2014), 1:216–41. L. I. Levine, “The Synagogues of Galilee,” Galilee (2014), 1:129–50. MARK A. CHANCEY

Related entries: Agriculture; Bethsaida; Coins; Hasmonean Dynasty; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Nazareth; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Maccabean; Roman Governors; Sages; Synagogues.

Gamla The ancient town of Gamla is situated in the central Golan Heights, about 10 km east of the northern end of the Sea of Galilee, on a spur overlooking the Sea of Galilee (see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]). The town, built on a steep slope, is known mainly in connection with the events of the First Jewish Revolt (66–73 ce), when it was captured by the Roman general Vespasian. Gamla and its fall are described in detail by the contemporaneous Jewish historian Flavius Josephus in his work Jewish War (4.1). He provides both the geographic and topographic setting, as well as a detailed—probably firsthand—description of the events during the Roman siege and the ensuing battle. It is a remarkably well-preserved battle site from the 1st century ce which has remained untouched in the ensuing centuries. The History of the Site.  The earliest occupation at Gamla was in the Chalcolithic period, evidenced by a little pottery, a stone seal, a violin figurine, and a broken pillar figurine characteristic of the 280

Gamla

Figure 4.50  General plan of Gamla.

Golan culture. Gamla was a major urban center during the Early Bronze Age II (ca. 2500–2000 bce), after which the site was abandoned until the Hellenistic period. The archaeological evidence suggests that a small settlement, possibly a Seleucid military fort, was established here in the 2nd century bce. After its abandonment in 67 ce, the location of the town was lost, rediscovered only in 1968. The Excavations.  Gamla was excavated for 18 seasons by S. Gutmann, D. Syon, and Z. Yavor, who uncovered about 6% of its area, estimated at about 40 acres (Figure 4.50). The finds in the eastern part included a Jewish community center with a synagogue and miqveh, as well as the city wall, constructed just before the First Jewish Revolt, with a round tower at its top. Further west, a domestic area was found to have been inhabited only in the Hasmonean period, in the 1st century bce, and abandoned around the time of King Herod. In this area another public miqveh was found, as were an olive oil press and a private miqveh. In the western part, a neighborhood was excavated, where finely constructed houses with decorated architectural elements, colored fresco and stucco, jewelry, and coins indicate wellto-do inhabitants. An industrial zone yielded shops and a well-preserved olive oil press, with a miqveh inside. Here another public building was excavated, possibly of administrative function. This area was constructed in the 1st century ce. The excavations yielded huge quantities of pottery, coins, and various small finds, shedding light on life in the town from around 100 bce to 67 ce. The Jewish identity of the inhabitants is also supported by “Herodian” lamps, chalk vessels, and Galilean pottery types. Evidence of the battle of 67 ce comprises large quantities of ballista balls, arrowheads, and other military items, found along both sides of the city wall. Fireplaces, cooking pots, and storage jars found in the synagogue and other public places tell of refugees that arrived in town prior to

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the siege. A local ad hoc mint produced a crude bronze coin, of which seven were found, with a Hebrew legend mentioning Gamla.

Bibliography A. Berlin, Gamla I. The Hellenisic and Roman Pottery, IAA Reports 29 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2006). D. Syon, Gamla III. The Shmarya Gutmann Excavations 1976–1989. Finds and Studies Part 1, IAA Reports 56 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2014). D. Syon, Gamla III. The Shmarya Gutmann Excavations 1976–1989. Finds and Studies Part 2, IAA Reports (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2016), 271. D. Syon and Z. Yavor, “Gamala,” NEAEHL (2008), 5:1739–42. D. Syon and Z. Yavor, Gamla II. The Architecture. The Shmarya Gutmann Excavations 1976–1989, IAA Reports 44 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010). DANNY SYON

Related entries: Architecture; Galilee; Herod the Great; Josephus, Writings of; Roman Generals; Synagogues.

Garden of Eden—Paradise The term “garden of Eden” has held at least two meanings over its long history of use: (1) the location on earth in which Adam and Eve lived prior to their fall (Gen 2–3) and (2) the heavenly abode of the righteous after their deaths or at the end of days. The former is an earlier meaning than the latter, which developed during the Second Temple period. Second Temple literature inherited the concept of the garden of Eden from the Hebrew Bible, perhaps alongside other oral and written traditions that have not survived to this day. The word “garden” in the Eden narrative of Genesis 2–3 is translated in the Septuagint by the Greek παράδεισος (paradeisos), a Persian loan word meaning “garden of pleasure.” By the end of the Second Temple period the word παράδεισος had come to mean a heavenly paradise (Luke 23:43; 1 Cor 12:2, 4; 3 Bar. 4:10; Greek LAE 29:6; 37:5; 40:1; Bremmer 1999). Likewise, in Hebrew and Aramaic the term ‫( פרדס‬prds) underwent a similar process: it is a simple garden in Song 8:13, Ecclesiastes 2:5, Nehemiah 2:8; then a phrase denoting the garden of Eden in 1 Enoch (cf. 4Q206 1 xxvi 21, 4Q209 23; perhaps also in the Book of Giants at 6Q8 2 3; Tigchelaar 1999); finally, a few centuries later it refers to a mystical place in t. Ḥagigah 2:2. As in the Hebrew Bible (cf. Gen 3:22–24), human beings are physically unable to enter the garden of Eden of early Second Temple period literature. Thus, in the Book of Watchers at 1 Enoch 32, the garden of Eden is located at the far eastern edges of the earth, where it is inaccessible to humankind. Moreover, in the Aramaic version of the Book of Watchers, Enoch only passes near to the garden (1 En. 32; 4Q206 1 xxvi). However, in the Greek and Ethiopic translations, Enoch actually enters the garden. In 1 Enoch 77:3 the garden of Eden is located beyond the inhabited world. The garden is similarly inaccessible to humanity in 4 Ezra 4:8 (Ratzon 2015). According to 1 Enoch 60:8, 70:3–4, Jubilees 4:23, and Ben Sira 44:16, Enoch is taken to the garden of Eden in his old age. It is possible that in the Book of Giants (4Q530 iii), 1 Enoch 106– 107, and Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20 ii 23), the place in which Enoch dwells after his departure from humanity, located near the edges of the earth, should also be identified as the garden of Eden. A few other special human beings enter the garden while alive: Baruch in 3 Baruch 4:6–17; Eve 282

Garden of Eden—Paradise

and Seth in Life of Adam and Eve 13:1; and Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:2–3. In late Second Temple sources and in literature composed shortly after the Jerusalem Temple’s destruction, the garden becomes the reward for all righteous people after their deaths (1 En. 60:8, 61, 70:3–4; Sib. Or. 3.46–49; Apoc. Ab. [A] 11:1–12, 10; 4 Ezra 7:36; 8:52; 2 Bar. 51:7–16; 2 En. [A] 8:1–9:1; T. Levi 18:10; T. Dan 5:12; Apoc. Sedr. 16:6; Luke 23:43; Rev 2:7, 22:2, 14, 18; 4 Ezra 12:2; 2 Esd 15:6; and perhaps also in 1QHa xvi 5–7, 12–13; cf. Nickelsburg 1981; Goodman 2010). In addition to its function as the reward for the righteous, the garden of Eden is regarded as a garden of delight; thus, the Greek translation of Genesis 3:24 ‫( עדן‬ʿdn) as τρυφῆς (truphēs “delight”; cf. Philo, Leg. 1:45; QG 1:7). It is also seen as a source of wisdom (cf. Gen 3:6; 1 En. 32; Philo, Post. 32; Leg. 1:65; QG 1:6; Sir 24:26–27; see also Bachmann 2009; Niehoff 2010). Both these interpretations may be derived from different interpretations of the biblical Eden narrative. The garden of Eden is assigned to various locations (Grelot 1958; Himmelfarb 1991; Stordalen 2008; Bockmuehl 2010). Like the garden of Eden described in the Hebrew Bible, the garden of early Second Temple literature is an earthly one (1 En. 32; Jub. 4:23–26; 8:16–19). In Jubilees 3:27 and 4:26 the garden is referred to as a sacred place (van Ruiten 1999). Its holiness is also emphasized by the redactor of the Book of Watchers, who creates a parallel between a garden on a high mountain on which the throne of God is situated and the garden of Eden (e.g. Reed 2015). As an earthly garden, its specific location varies within both the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple literature. Thus, some texts place it in the east (Gen 2:8; 1 En. 32; Jub. 8:16; 2 En. [rec. J] 42:3, 65:10; Philo, QG 1:7; Leg. 1:56; Josephus, Ant. 1.3), while others place it in the west (Gen 3:24; Josephus, J.W. 2.155), north (Ezek 28:13; 1 En. 61:1), or northwest (1 En. 24–25, 70:3). In later literature, however, the garden of Eden is placed in heaven (3 Bar. 4:10 [if it is not a later Christian addition]; Apoc. Ab.[A] 11:1, 10; 2 Bar. 4:7, 51:7–16; the Latin text of LAE 25:3 and its Greek text at 29:6; 37:5; 40:1; 2 Cor 12:2–3; 2 En. [rec. A] 8:1–9:1; and perhaps also in LAB 26:8; cf. Bauckham 2010). Nevertheless, even after the shift in both location and function of the garden of Eden, the ancient concept of an earthly garden of Eden continued to be retained (Philo, QG 1:12; b. Tamid 32:2; Ratzon 2015).

Bibliography V. Bachmann, “Rooted in Paradise? The Meaning of the ‘Tree of Life’ in 1 Enoch 24–25 Reconsidered,” JSP 19.2 (2009): 83–107. R. Bauckham “Paradise in the Biblical Antiquity of Pseudo-Philo,” Paradise in Antiquity (2010), 43–56. M. Bockmuehl, “Locating Paradise,” in Paradise in Antiquity (2010), 192–209. J. N. Bremmer “Paradise: From Persia, via Greece, into the Septuagint,” in Paradise Interpreted (1999), 1–20. M. Goodman, “Paradise, Gardens, and the Afterlife in the First Century CE,” in Paradise in Antiquity (2010), 57–63. P. Grelot, “La Géographie mythique d’Hénoch et ses sources Orientales,” RB 65 (1958): 41–44. M. Himmelfarb, “The Temple and the Garden of Eden in Ezekiel, the Book of the Watchers, and the Wisdom of Ben Sira,” in Sacred Spaces and Profane Places: Essays in the Geographies of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, ed. J. Scott and P. Simpson-Housley (New York: Greenwood Press, 1991), 63–78. G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Some Related Traditions in the Apocalypse of Adam, the Book of Adam and Eve, and 1 Enoch,” in The Rediscovery of Gnosticism; Proceedings of the International Conference on Gnosticism at Yale, New Haven, Conn., March 28–31, 1978. 2. Sethian Gnosticism, ed. B. Layton (Leiden: Brill, 1981), 515–39. M. R. Niehoff, “Philo’s Scholarly Inquiries into the Story of Paradise,” Paradise in Antiquity (2010), 28–56.

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E. Ratzon, “Where Is the Garden of Eden?: Shifts in the Location and Function of the Garden of Eden as Revealed through the Composition and Editing of the Book of Enoch,” Meghillot: Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls 11 (2015): 317–55 (in Hebrew). A. Y. Reed, “Enoch, Eden, and the Beginnings of Jewish Cosmography,” in The Cosmography of Paradise: The Other World from Ancient Mesopotamia to Medieval Europe, Warburg Institute Colloquia 27, 2015, ed. A. Scafi (London: The Warburg Institute and Nino Aragno, 2015), 67–94. M. E. Stone, “Paradise in 4 Ezra iv:8 and vii:36, viii:52,” JJS 17 (1966): 85–88. T. Stordalen, “Heaven on Earth—Or Not? Jerusalem as Eden in Biblical Literature,” in Beyond Eden: The Biblical Story of Paradise (Genesis 2–3) and Its Reception History, ed. K. Schmid and C. Riedweg, FAT 34 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 28–57. E.J. C. Tigchelaar, “Eden and Paradise: The Garden Motif in Some Early Jewish Texts (1 Enoch and other texts found in Qumran),” in Paradise Interpreted (1999a), 63–94. J. T. A. G. M. van Ruiten, “Eden and the Temple: The Rewriting of Genesis 2:4–3:24 in The Book of Jubilees,” in Paradise Interpreted (1999b), 63–94. ESHBAL RATZON

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Jubilees, Book of.

Gematria Gematria refers to a hermeneutical technique whereby the numerical value of letters in a particular word or phrase is calculated and correlated with other words or phrases of equal sum. Such equivalencies become the basis for deriving hidden meanings and relationships. Although the Hebrew word gematria probably derives from the Greek word γεωμετρία (geōmetria, “geometry”), the assumption that Jews borrowed the practice during the Hellenistic era remains uncertain, since the practice already appears in the cuneiform literature of ancient Mesopotamia (Sambursky 1978). An early example of gematria occurs in an inscription of Sargon II (ca. 706 bce) in which he says that he built the wall of Dûr Sharrukîn “16,283 cubits, the numeral of my name” (Luckenbill 1927: 65). The only undisputed instance of gematria in the Bible occurs in the New Testament, in which a Jewish-Christian writer assigns the number 666 (or 616 in variant readings) to the beast, which is also said to be the number of a person (Rev 13:18). A majority of scholars hold that Nero Caesar is the intended referent based upon two possible spellings of his name in Aramaic/Hebrew, (Nero(n) Caesar): nûn (50) + rêš (200) + waw (6) + nûn (50) + qôp (100) +samek (60) + rêš (200) = 666. It is fascinating that the Greek word for “beast” (ϑηρíον, thērion), when transliterated into Aramaic/Hebrew, also equals 666 (Bauckham 1993: 389–90). Apparently, the author intended to identify Nero as Daniel’s fourth and final beast (Dan 7:7–11, 19–22). Book 5 of the Sibylline Oracles (perhaps written before the Jewish Revolt of 132 ce) lists a succession of Roman “princes” from Julius Caesar to Trajan by means of the numerical value of the first letter of their respective names (Sib. Or. 5.16–271). A Christian passage in the Sibylline Oracles 1.324–333 assigns the number 888 to the son of God, the value of Jesus’ name in Greek (Ἰησοῦς). Third Baruch 4:3–7 (perhaps 2nd cent. ce) equates the numeral value of the Greek word for snake (δράκων, drakōn), written in Hebrew letters, with the 360 rivers that fill the sea (Kulik 2010: 168; Bohak 1990). A more sophisticated gematria occurs in Barnabas 9:8–9 (ca. 70–135 ce). The author derives a Christological meaning from the 318 servants of Abraham (Gen 14:14) by breaking the number down into its components 10, 8, 300. Eighteen is the sum of the first two letters of Jesus’ name in 284

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Greek, iōta and ēta, (ΙΗ), and the letter tau (Τ), a Christian symbol for the cross, is numerically equivalent to 300. Later, and perhaps in response, the rabbis insisted that 318 is the numerical sum of the name Eliezer, Abram’s servant (Gen 15:2; b. Ned. 32a). The term itself first appears in the 29th of 32 rules for interpretation worked out by R. Eliezer ben R. Jose (ca. 200 ce), but according to b. Sukkah 28a, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai (d. 90 ce) was knowledgeable in gematriot. During the medieval period rabbinic gematria became highly sophisticated, even though Abraham Ibn Ezra (1089–1164) denied its presence in Scripture and Moses Nahmanides (1194–1270) criticized its overuse. Gematria achieved its zenith in the writings of the later kabbalah (Glazerson 1991), but still flourishes in the age of the internet.

Bibliography R. Bauckham, The Climax of Prophecy: Studies on the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993). G. Bohak, “Greek-Hebrew Gematrias in 3 Baruch and Revelation,” JSP 7 (1990): 119–21. M. Glazerson, Letters of Fire: Mystical Insights into the Hebrew Language, trans. S. Fuchs (New York: Feldheim, 1991). S. J. Lieberman, “A Mesopotamian Background for the So-Called Aggadic ‘Measures’ of Biblical Hermeneutics?” HUCA 58 (1987): 157–225. D. D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1927). S. Sambursky, “On the Origin and Significance of the Term Gematria,” JJS 29 (1978): 35–38. LARRY R. HELYER

Related entries: Daniel, Book of; Inscriptions; Literacy and Reading; Revelation, Book of; Sibylline Oracles 1–2.

Genealogies Introduction.  Genealogies played a number of significant roles in the religious, social, and literary life of the Jewish people throughout the Second Temple period. Josephus claimed that Jews scrupulously maintained records (Ag. Ap. 1.28–33), and, although many would be lost at the close of this era with the sack of Jerusalem by Rome, genealogical interest ensured that a variety of genealogical information was adapted by the early rabbinic and Christian world. Scholars identify a variety of different and often overlapping functions for genealogies during this era. With the caveat that a genealogy can exhibit more than one purpose, the various functions can be grouped into two larger categories: social construction and narrative functions. Social Construction.  The use of genealogies for social purposes and as social boundary markers is common in the Second Temple period and in the literature of the Hebrew Bible that precedes it (see Gen 5 and 11; Exod 6:14–27, Ezra 2:59–63, 10:1–5, 18–44; Neh 7:5; 1 Esdr 5; Jdt 8:1–2; Luke 1:5; Phil 3:5; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.41; J.W. 1.473–477; As. Mos. 5–6; b. Yebam. 37a; on Genesis, see Wilson 1977). Common ancestry created national or ethnic boundaries by the identification of outsiders and potential allies and enemies. Genealogies that were compiled and maintained for the purpose of social construction could function as a badge of identity, for instance, affirming one’s suitability for marriage. Such genealogies ascribed honor to those who could confirm their place in such lines. Jews who could prove their lineage would avoid the shame of a lack of lineage or the taint

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of association with an ignoble line, particularly lines characterized by mixed ancestry. Genealogical status bestowed honor by supporting a claimant’s right to belong to the present-day life of Israel. An appropriate lineage could further establish a specific claim of a person or family to a throne, possession of land, or a vocation. Particularly important in this era is priestly lineage (Josephus, Life 1; Luke 1:5) or royal lineage, with descent from David being a particularly important expectation for the royal messiah, in keeping with various passages in the prophets, the Psalms, and Genesis 49:8– 10 (4Q252; 4QFlor [4Q174]; Matt 1:1–17; Rom 1:3–4; Pss. Sol. 17–18; Johnson 1988: 85–138). Particular characteristics were often regarded as family traits (Josephus, Life 2; Pirqe ‘Abot 1–2), so that one’s lineage could imply certain moral characteristics for good or for ill. Narrative Functions.  When written down or shared in oral form, genealogies established origin and provided ways to link various eras (on this approach, see Hood 2011: 9–62). Contemporary identities or events could be tied to a famous founder or founding event, as genealogies provided a literary bridge back to previous eras (Pirqe ʿAbot 1–2; Gen 4, 5, 11; 36; Exod 6:14–27). Along similar lines, genealogies could function as a shorthand way of telling the story of Israel. The structure of the genealogy and annotations embedded within the genealogy provided emphases (as in 1 Chr 1–9, with the inclusion of women and emphasis on Davidic and priestly lines; Matt 1:1–17, with an interest in Davidic kingship, exile, and the inclusion of righteous gentiles; Pirqe ‘Abot 1–2). In sharp contrast, e.g., to Roman nobility in this era, Jews did not claim descent from gods. But a king’s identity could be expressed in metaphorical terms as divine sonship throughout the Mediterranean, and occasionally for Israel (Deut 32:8, Dead Sea Scrolls and LXX). Metaphorical divine descent could also be applied to Israel (Hos 11:1) and persons or beings of particular importance or moral character (as in Hos 1:10; Ps 2; 1 En. 106–107 par. 1QapGen ii–v; 2 En. 71–72; Jos. Asen. 6:5, 13:13; Wis 2:13, 5:5; Matt 5:8).

Bibliography J. Hood, The Messiah, His Brothers, and the Nations: Matthew 1:1–17, LNTS 441 (London: T&T Clark, 2011). M. Johnson, The Purpose of the Biblical Genealogies, SNTSMS 8 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1988). R. Wilson, Genealogy and History in the Biblical World, YNER 7 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1977). JASON B. HOOD

Related entries: Family; Genesis, Book of; Priesthood; Luke-Acts; Matthew, Gospel of; Messianism.

Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism As in other periods of history, Jews and Judaism in the Greco-Roman era evoked lively reactions from gentiles. Contemporary literary and archaeological sources witness to the fact that gentile attitudes toward Jews ranged from contempt and hatred—in some extreme cases resulting in physical violence—to sympathy which, in not a few instances, led to conversion to Judaism. Attempting to discern pagan views on Jews and Judaism solely on the basis of extant GrecoRoman literary sources might initially suggest that, apart from several early Greek authors such as Theophrastus, Hecataeus of Abdera, and Clearchus of Soli, the vast majority of pagan intellectuals hated the Jews and despised their national customs. However, a more complex

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picture emerges when all the available evidence, including the Jewish writings of the period and epigraphic evidence, are considered. The largely negative attitudes toward Jews and their customs found in most pagan literary sources (collected in Stern 1974–1984) are countered by Jewish and Christian writings of the period which often tell stories of gentile admiration of Judaism, Judaizing, and even outright conversion. Non-Jewish Literary Sources.  Some early Greek authors describe Jews as aniconic philosophers. Most, however, portray Jews as sacrilegious outcast rebels, lepers, haters of humanity, ass-head worshipers, cannibals, atheists, and adherents of a barbarian superstition. Their customs are weird, asocial, and abominable. The anti-Semitic story of their ignoble origins, first attested in the 3rd century bce Egyptian Manetho, is often repeated and seems to enjoy a privileged status among pagan intellectuals throughout the period (Schäfer 1997; Bar-Kochva 2010). However, even in this corpus, references to the popularity of Judaism among pagan masses can often be found: thus, Seneca is credited with a saying that “the conquered have given laws to their conquerors” (De Superstitione, quoted by Augustine, Civ. 6.11), and Tacitus explains the wealth and might of the Jerusalem Temple as the result of proselytes, who streamed to it in multitudes (Hist. 5.5). And even if most of the pagan literary evidence is hostile toward Jews, careful scrutiny of the sources suggests a degree of respect and even admiration of Judaism (Feldman 1993). Furthermore, much of the seemingly anti-Semitic rhetoric reflects standard racial prejudice which characterizes ancient attitudes toward other peoples in general, not exclusively Jews (Isaac 2004). Further Evidence.  Jewish and early Christian literary sources also furnish evidence for negative pagan images of Jews and Judaism, as well as for anti-Jewish acts of injustice, persecutions, and pogroms. There is also evidence for pagan admiration of Judaism, of gentile involvement in Jewish religious life—whether through contributions to the Jerusalem Temple or participation in diaspora synagogue life (Feldman 1993: 322–24). This is found in language of gentile “Godfearers” and other sympathizers, as well as of proselytes (cf. Acts 10:22; 13:16, 26; Feldman and Reinhold 1996: 137–46). The sheer fact that all three major diaspora Jewish authors—Philo, Paul, and Josephus—wrote works that aimed to present some version of Judaism to the gentiles allows for the inference that they had sympathetic gentiles readers in view. The existence of “God-fearers” frequenting diaspora synagogues according to Acts had been doubted by some scholars, but has recently been demonstrated by archaeological evidence (Feldman 1993: 362– 69). Apart from individual proselytes, sources speak of conversions by whole nations, such as in the case of the Idumeans, whose adoption of Judaism seems not to be entirely forced (Smith 1999). The fact that a third-generation descendant of proselytes, Herod, became king of Judea, and that Simon Bar-Giora (“son of a proselyte”) was executed by Romans as the chief leader of the Great Revolt, once more testifies to the prominence of proselytes in Second Temple Jewish society. Even scholars, who deny any sustained missionary effort on the side of the Jews, admit that there were great numbers of proselytes in the period (Goodman 1990). As far as political history is concerned, gentile-Jewish relations were not always strained. The numerous decrees on Jews by pagan monarchs, preserved in Josephus (e.g. Ant. 12.416–417; 14.144–155, 191–198, 213–469), show that, with rare exceptions, Jewish national and religious rights were confirmed and safeguarded (Pucci Ben Zeev 1998). Jewish immigration to Egypt was encouraged by the Ptolemies, under whose rule the Jews enjoyed a privileged position and

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played prominent roles. Jewish communities in Asia Minor first were established by Antiochus III in the late 3rd century bce as privileged military settlements created in order to bring security to the region. In the Roman Empire the Jews enjoyed unparalleled privileges, such as freedom from participation in the emperor cult and from military service, among others. Even after as major a confrontation between Jews and Rome as the First Revolt, the Romans did not significantly infringe on Jewish political rights (e.g. Josephus, Ant. 19.278–291). Summary.  While it is true that most pagan Greco-Roman literary sources are hostile to Jews and Judaism and that there is indeed evidence of occasional strained relations between Jews and their neighbors, there are also many witnesses that show that Jews frequently evoked gentile admiration and respect. In fact, the success of Judaism in winning followers from among pagans seems to be one of the reasons for the anger vented at the Jews by the traditionalist Greco-Roman intellectuals.

Bibliography L. H. Feldman and M. Reinhold, eds., Jewish Life and Thought among Greeks and Romans (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1996). M. Goodman, Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990). M. Pucci Ben Zeev, Jewish Rights in the Roman World, TSAJ 74 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998). M. Smith, “The Gentiles in Judaism 125 BCE–CE 66,” The Cambridge History of Judaism 3 (1999), 192–249. MICHAEL TUVAL

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Luke-Acts; Military, Jews in the; Persecution, Religious; Revolt, First Jewish; Rights of Jews in the Roman World.

Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward Introduction.  In the post-exilic period and in contrast to biblical usage, the term gôym (‫—)גוים‬ often translated as “gentiles”—referred not merely to nations generally (inclusive of Israel) but to nations exclusive of Israel (on gôym, see Rosen-Zvi and Ophir 2011). Israel’s separation to God (i.e. Israel’s holiness) is understood to entail separation from gentile nations, and Second Temple Jewish writings promote a policy of social separatism (amixia), though to widely varying degrees. In most cases, the call to separatism is based on the concern that contact with idolatrous gentiles will have a deleterious religious or moral effect on Israelites (Jub. 22:16), erode fidelity to Jewish customs (Let. Aris. 139–151), and undermine observance of Jewish law (Sir 11:34). Dietary and Purity Laws.  Separation from gentiles is believed to be best put into practice by dietary laws and ritual purity laws that hinder commensality and other forms of close association. Tobit refrains from eating the bread of gentiles (Tob 1:10), and Judith brings her own comestibles to the camp of Holofernes (Jdt 10). Third Maccabees 3:3–10 argues that although some illdisposed gentiles use Jewish amixia as a pretext to incite unrest and hostility toward Jews, Jewish separation in matters of food and worship does not preclude the possibility of friendship and business relations between Jews and non-Jews, a claim supported by the presence of God-fearing

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gentiles in synagogues and other Jewish contexts, and by evidence of gentiles who followed Sabbath, dietary regulations, and other laws (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.282–283). Similarly, Josephus asserts that Jewish laws of separation are the model for similar laws in other cultural systems; they are in no way intended to offend or alienate non-Jews, and gentiles are welcome to join the community of Israel (Ag. Ap. 2.258–259). Such apologetic arguments betray a Jewish sensitivity to gentile representation of Jewish amixia as a reprehensible quality that betokens civic disloyalty. Temple.  By the 3rd century bce, the biblical guarantee of gentile access to the Jerusalem Temple and cult was understood by some Jews to refer to the religious convert and not to other foreigners. In 200 bce, Antiochus III decreed a fine for any foreigner who entered the court of the Israelites in the Temple. First Maccabees 9:54–56 tells of a wall that was erected in the sanctuary in the early Second Temple period to segregate gentiles and Jews but was later torn down by Alcimus. Two Herodian-period tablets, discovered in 1871, warn aliens not to enter within the balustrade around the sanctuary on pain of death. According to Josephus (Ag. Ap. 2.103), even while the wall stood, gentiles were allowed into some areas of the Temple mount. Idolatry and Moral Impurity.  Negative depictions of hostile gentiles defiling and blaspheming the holy city and sanctuary include 1 Maccabees 7:34–35 concerning Nicanor the appointee of the Syrian king Demetrius; 2 Maccabees 5:15–17 concerning Antiochus IV Epiphanes; and 3 Maccabees 2:17 concerning Philopater. Other negative depictions focus on gentiles entangled in the error of idolatry (Jub. 11:16–17), which is ridiculed as the worship of dead gods (Jub. 22:17; see also Wis 13:10, 17–18; 15:5, 17; Sib. Or. 3.588; 5.84). Gentiles are perceived as being morally defiled not only by idolatry but also by all the evils that issue from it, including adultery, murder, theft, deceit, corruption, and the defiling of souls (Wis 14:31; Sib. Or. 3.492, 496–500; Jub. 23:24; 24:28; and Let. Aris. 152). Conversion.  Yet, despite the frequent association of gentiles with a host of defiling immoral behaviors, it is generally assumed in Second Temple texts, as in the Hebrew Bible, that the gentile can choose to pursue a pure path—this holds even in a text as hostile to gentiles as the Damascus Document (cf. CD A xiv 4, 6 par. 4Q267 9 v 10; cf. also 4Q279 5.6 and 11QTa xxxix 4–5). In Hellenistic Judaism, it was possible to change one’s ethnos (one’s laws and even ancestry), and the biblical term gr (‫ )גר‬came to refer not merely to a resident alien who observes prohibitive commandments (a usage retained in Jdt 4:10–11) but also to a religious convert who assumes all the obligations, responsibilities, and privileges of a member of the Israelite community (Milgrom 1982). Gentile conversions are depicted in Judith 14:10 (Achior); Joseph and Aseneth 15 (Asenath); Philo’s On the Special Laws 1.51–53 and 1.308–309; and Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities 20.17 (Queen Helen of Adiabene and her son Izates). Eschatology.  The idea of an ultimate sanctification (Jub. 4:26), salvation (Pss. Sol. 17:34; Sir 36; T. Levi 14:4), or “conversion” of the gentiles in the eschaton is sounded in Second Temple period literature (e.g. Tob 14:6; 1 En. 10:20–21; 90:37–38; 91:14). Although a few texts predict destruction or chastisement for idolaters in the end days (notably 1 En. 92:7, 9; 99:6–7), these appear in the context of God’s overdue execution of justice against Israel’s enemies. Such passages

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do not contradict the inclusion of well-intentioned gentiles in an eschatological community. Thus Psalms of Solomon not only envisions the destruction of the godless nations (17:23–31) but also asserts that other “nations shall come from the ends of the earth to see his glory” (17:51; see also 4QDibHama [4Q504] 1–2 iv 8–13 which speaks of the nations who have seen God’s glory). Genealogical Purity.  Jewish attitudes toward gentiles were based not only on concerns about idolatry and moral impurity but also on concerns about genealogical impurity. In the period of the restoration, Ezra attempted to innovate a ban on all marriages with gentiles (Ezra 10), whereas Torah law prohibits only specific nations because of intergroup hostility. This ban was predicated on the idea that all Israel—not simply the priests—was a holy seed. Marital union with a gentile, whose seed is not holy, profanes (but does not defile or render impure) the holy seed of even the lay Israelite (see Mal 2:11–12) and incurs liability for an ʾšm (‫;אשם‬ the sacrifice prescribed for cases of sacrilege; cf. Ezra 9:2, 10:10, 10:19). This new holy seed rationale rendered Ezra’s prohibition universal in scope. Equally unprecedented, it made Israelite identity contingent on genealogical purity, i.e., on the native Israelite status of both mother and father. Finally, it established an impermeable boundary between Israelite and non-Israelite, predicated on an immutable, God-given distinction between holy and non-holy seed, and negated the possibility of assimilation of any kind. The Ezran rejection of intermarriage and assimilation and the insistence on unmixed genealogy for the transmission of Judean and later Jewish identity was not widely adopted but was popular in sectarian circles. Jubilees, a work prized at Qumran, denounces marriage with gentiles as leading not merely to the profanation of the holy seed of Israel but also to its defilement due to the (moral) impurity arising from the sin of znût (‫ ;זנות‬an illicit sexual union). Jubilees also praises biblical characters who zealously defended Israel from the encroachments of foreigners (Simeon and Levi who kill Shechem, and Pinḥas who kills Zimri and the Moabite woman; Jub. 30:17–20) and casts Abraham—the biblical progenitor of diverse peoples, Israelite and non-Israelite—as the first of all separatists prohibiting marriage with the daughters of Canaan as fornication (znût) and impurity (ṭmʾh, ‫ ;טמאה‬Jub. 20:4–5). 4QMMT rejects marriage with non-native persons as an illicit form of hybridism that mixes radically distinct seeds (4Q396 1–2 iv 4, 11; 4Q397 6–13.15; cf. Hayes 1999: 26–35). However, in most ancient Jewish sources, a Jew’s marriage with a converted gentile was accepted (Josephus, Ant. 20.139) and the prohibition of marriage with an unconverted gentile was detached from the Ezran holy seed rationale sustained by Jubilees and 4QMMT (Philo, Spec. 3:29; Josephus, Ant. 4.191; 8.191–193).

Bibliography C. Hayes, “Intermarriage and Impurity in Ancient Jewish Sources,” HTR 92.1 (1999): 3–36. J. Milgrom, “Religious Conversion and the Revolt Model for the Formation of Israel,” JBL 101 (1982): 169–76. I. Rosen-Zvi and A. Ophir, “Goy: Toward a Genealogy,” Dine Israel 28 (2011): 69–122. CHRISTINE E. HAYES

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Associations; Blasphemy; Circumcision; Conversion and Proselytism; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; God-Fearers; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Holiness; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Purification and Purity. 290

Geography, Otherworldly

Geography, Otherworldly Otherworldly geography concerns places typically inaccessible to humankind, sites that are legendary or imagined, and this-worldly locales that are envisaged as thresholds to the numinous. Otherworldly geography includes extraordinary topography, the ever just-out-of-reach edges of the earth, and portals to the heavens and the underworld. Broadly construed, otherworldly space also includes the heavens and underworld. In terms of methodology, it is important to note that signifiers of space and place, real or imagined, always betray human judgment and categorization. Spatiality (the critical study of space) allows for the interrogation of geography in fictive worlds and representations of symbolic space in literature (Foucault 1986; Soja 1996; Camp 2002), while narrative space is constructed to serve rhetorical purposes and to persuade readers (Millar 2007: 131). Because spatial analysis demonstrates how space is a social construct and is mediated via culture, it can provide yet another vantage point for interpreting early Jewish literature, particularly with regard to author, audience, and context. Certain Near Eastern and Mediterranean genres make special use of mythical places and otherworldly geography. These include epics with the journeys of heroes and quests for immortality (Epic of Gilgamesh; Odyssey), literary depictions of royal tours to support imperial ideology (Newsom 1980), travelogues (Romm 1994), and journeys to the netherworld (Gardiner 2013). Extant exilic and Second Temple Jewish literature share some features with the aforementioned literary forms, though otherworldly geography figures most prominently in prophetic texts (e.g. Ezek 40–48) and apocalypses (like the Book of the Watchers of 1 Enoch). Whether in the context of an epic or of an ascent or descent narrative, accounts conveying spatially transcendent realms and extraordinary sites can serve to enhance the status of the character who is privileged to view these, is capable of such travel, or is granted specialized knowledge. Also the construction of space and depiction of places in different literary forms can address a community’s situation or represent idealized realms reflecting a community’s aspirations. The ancient world to which early Judaism belonged was fascinated by boundaries of the inhabited world (οἰκουμένη, oikoumenē), and with attention to the boundaries came robust speculation about the ends of the earth. In the imagination of some ancient peoples, one would encounter the extraordinary in these remote environs (e.g. the bejeweled trees and scorpionlike creatures of the Epic of Gilgamesh 9), passages to the netherworld (Odyssey 11), and key structures which support the cosmos (see Job 38). Such speculation occurs in early Jewish literature as well; the Book of the Watchers describes at the edges of the world a terrestrial disk encircled by a great river, an abyss, or total darkness (1 En. 17:2–8; 21:1–2; 32:2). Beyond these boundaries, one could encounter the numinous, like a post-mortem paradise (1 En. 32:2–3) or places where supernatural beings were confined or punished (see, e.g., 1 En. 18:11–19:1; 21:1–10). Mythical geography also includes out of reach architectural elements of the cosmos, visible to the divine and to the seer, like the pillars which support the heavens, storehouses of the winds, or the cornerstone of the earth (1 En. 18:1–4). In terms of topography, mountains, even those accessible to an ancient audience, might be depicted as reaching to the heavens and thus serving as conduits to the heavens and to the divine realm. Well-known examples of such mountains include Zaphon (Isa 14:13; Ps 48:2), Olympus (Odyssey 6.41–46; Hesiod, Theog. 678–721; 820–80), Mount Sinai (Ezek Trag 68–82), and Hermon (1 En. 6; also the unnamed mountain-throne of God in 1 En. 18:8; 24:3). 291

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Sites associated with a community’s story or history often take on added significance as places where the divine can be encountered or as space with impending significance. The Valley of Gê Hinnom (Heb. ‫ּגֵי הִּנ ֹם‬, gê hinnom and transliterated into Gk. as γέεννα, geena), for instance, deemed repugnant due to the site’s use for immolation (Jer 19:2–5; 32:35), came to be thought a place of eschatological judgment, where the wicked would be punished (Mark 9:43, 45, 47; 2 Bar. 59:11; Sib. Or. 1.103; 2.292). Second Temple Jewish literature, drawing on topoi familiar from Israelite and Judean traditions, also presents Sinai, Jerusalem, the Temple, and even the “land” of Israel as the loci for pivotal, imminent events; in that manner, space even once understood as ordinary or this-worldly can become otherworldly. Groups such as the Yaḥad (Qumran) reinterpreted the topos of “wilderness” (whether recalling the Israelite exodus and time at Sinai or Isa 40:3) in light of their own experience in the Dead Sea environs (Schofield 2011). Jerusalem, home to both Solomon’s Temple and the Second Temple and bearing at times a symbiotic relationship with a heavenly sanctuary (e.g. 1 En. 14; Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice), was imagined to be the omphalos or “navel” of the earth (see Ezek 38:12; 1 En. 26:1; Jub. 8:19) or as the site of God’s throne forever (Barkhi Nafshi at 4Q434 2.7). At the same time, the Second Temple and Jerusalem (as “the city of the sanctuary”), first viewed as compromised in some circles (cf. 1 En. 89:73) and then destroyed by Roman forces, could be idealized as was necessary. The New Jerusalem text of the Dead Sea Scrolls depicts an unnamed seer taking a tour of the city reconstituted; the Book of Revelation, rightly considered in the context of Second Temple Jewish texts especially in light of its indebtedness to apocalyptic predecessors, depicts the “holy city, a New Jerusalem” descending from the heavens (Rev 21:2) to be accessible at some future time to the author’s community. Similarly, when Rome has devastated Israel, 2 Baruch reimagines “the land,” once recompense for righteous behavior (e.g. Deuteronomy), as divorced from territory. As the land was no longer available in the same manner due to Roman occupation toward the end of the 1st century ce, 2 Baruch interprets “land” within an eschatological context, such that it becomes synonymous with space created by its community through their transformative actions (Lied 2008). Traditions of infernal realms and paradise, understood to be not only transcendent spatially but also outside of temporal constraints, were shared widely in the Near Eastern and Mediterranean contexts of Second Temple Judaism. The realm of the dead was depicted in Israelite and Near Eastern traditions as a place of darkness, as a pit, and as a watery or dusty netherworld, much like the grave itself (Horowitz 1998). The various sorts of netherworlds found in Second Temple literature reflect these traditions; Qohelet would call the shadowy realm of death Sheol (Qoh 9:10)—an appellation for the underworld used especially in the Psalms and wisdom literature— and the Hodayot depict the netherworld as a sort of watery mire. At the same time, the Book of the Watchers imagines the realm of the dead as a western mountain, with segregated hollows confining the souls of the deceased (1 En. 22), a representation some scholars associated with Egyptian views of the infernal domain (Wacker 1982). The garden of Eden, sometimes explicitly associated with paradise (see Greek 1 En. 32:3) and key fixtures like the Tree of Life are presented in literary traditions as located beyond the inhabited world (1 En. 32:2–5) and unattainable (cf. Gen 3:24) except for select, virtuous parties (Rev 22:2, 14, 19; 4 Ezra 7:123; 8:52). Moreover, the topos of garden serves also as a description of a paradisiacal realm for the deceased (see 1 En. 60:8; 61:12). Not unlike contemporaneous Greco-Roman views of the cosmos in which the realm of the dead and other rarified sites were relocated to various levels of the heavens, Second Temple Jewish authors 292

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also start to imagine that the souls of the deceased reside in heavenly paradises. The Book of Parables presents the community’s deceased residing in the heavens (1 En. 45:2); Josephus speaks also of the expectation that upon death, the soul would have a heavenly home (J.W. 3.372–374). As cosmology develops, so too do Jewish and Christian views of sites of post-mortem punishment and paradise, which are especially elaborate in later apocalypses (see, e.g., 2 Enoch and 3 Baruch).

Bibliography C. V. Camp, “Storied Space, or Ben Sira ‘Tells a Temple’,” in “Imagining” Biblical Worlds: Studies in Spatial, Social and Historical Constructs in Honor of James W. Flanagan, ed. D. M. Gunn and P. M. McNutt, JSOTSup 359 (London: Sheffield, 2002), 64–80. M. Foucault, “Text/Context of Other Space,” Diacritics 16 (1986): 22–27. E. Gardiner, Ancient Near Eastern Hell: Visions, Tours and Descriptions of the Infernal Underworld (New York: Italica Press, 2013). W. Horowitz, Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1998). W. R. Millar, “A Bakhtinian Reading of Narrative Space and Its relationship to Social Space,” in Constructions of Space I: Theory, Geography, and Narrative, ed. J. L. Berquist and C. V. Camp, LHBOTS 481 (New York: T&T Clark; 2007), 129–40. C. A. Newsom, “The Development of 1 Enoch 6–19: Cosmology and Judgment,” CBQ 42 (1980): 310–29. J. S. Romm, The Edges of the Earth in Ancient Thought. Geography, Exploration, and Fiction (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994). A. Schofield, “Re-Placing Priestly Space: The Wilderness as Heterotopia in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in A Teacher for All Generation, in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, ed. E. F. Mason et al., JSJSup 153, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 469–90. E. Soja, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-Imagined Places (Malden: Blackwell, 1996). M.-T. Wacker, Weltordnung und Gericht: Studien zu I Henoch 22 (Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 1982). KELLEY COBLENTZ BAUTCH

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Cosmology; Ezekiel, Book of; Garden of Eden—Paradise; Heaven; Hermon, Mount.

Geography, Mythic—see Geography, Otherwordly (pt 4) Georgian Georgian, which belongs to a small family of Karvelian languages associated with the southern Caucasus region, flourished as a written language as Georgia became a Christian state in the 4th century ce (Rufinus, Hist. 10.11; cf. Tarchnišvili 1955: 406–10). Prominent parts of the Bible were translated soon after, as attested by pre-medieval manuscripts (Tarchnišvili 1955: 313–23). Armenian, Syrian, and Greek are debated as source languages (for the NT cf. Birdsall 1983). Hexaplaric traditions were adopted (Birdsall 1972). Most of the deuterocanonical books of the Septuagint exist in Georgian (K‘urcik’idze). Second Esdras is transmitted in biblical manuscripts and in a lectionary (Haelewyck 1998: §180; Blake 1926: 299–303).

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Several other parabiblical writings are attested (Haelewyck 1998: sections 1, 3, 11, 16–17, 39–41, 48, 58, 95, 166, 195, 213), among which only sections 1 (Vita Adae) and 213 (Vitae Prophetarum; cf. Tarchnišvili 1955: 389) are with certainty of Jewish origin. The Vita Adae has been transmitted in a collection containing mainly Apocrypha and pseudo-Chrysostomica (cf. Kourcikidzé 1993: vi–ix; cf. also Tarchnišvili 1955: 336). Both the Georgian 4 Esdras and Vita Adae may have been translated from Armenian but do not depend on the extant Armenian sources (Blake 1926: 305–14; Dochhorn 2005: 39–41). A Georgian translation of Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities books 1 to 15 is ascribed to Johannes Petric’i (11/12th cent.; Tarchnišvili 1955: 212; Melikišwili 2000). A certain book of Nimrod is cited in the Life of King Vaḫtang Gorgasal (5th cent., written in the 9th cent.) and in legends about Nino (cf. Bammel 1992; Rapp 2014). The excerpts display a positive view of Nimrod (he is, among other things, the ancestor of the Georgian kings). They conclude with a prophecy about Christ. It is an open question whether a book of Nimrod really existed, and whether this tradition primarily reflects a Georgian adaptation of the figure of Nimrod (Rapp 2014) or rather goes back to Jewish haggadah (cf. Bammel 1992), which might attest a strategy of inculturation performed by Georgian Jews (legends about Nino ascribe to Jews a role in the Christianization of Georgia, cf. Tarchnišvili 1955: 406–7; Peradze 1932: 166–71; for early Jewish settlements in Georgia cf. Allen 1932: 60 n. 5, 64).

Bibliography W. E. D. Allen, A History of the Georgian People (London: Kegan Paul, 1932). E. Bammel, “Das Buch Nimrod,” Augustinianum 32 (1992): 217–21. J. N. Birdsall, “Traces of the Jewish Greek Biblical Versions in Georgian Manuscript Sources,” JSS 17 (1972): 83–92. J. N. Birdsall, “Georgian Studies and the New Testament,” NTS 29 (1983): 306–20. R. P. Blake, “The Georgian Version of Fourth Esdras from the Jerusalem Manuscript,” HThR 19 (1926): 299–375. C. Kourcikidzé, La Caverne des Trésors. Version Géorgienne, CSCO 526 (Leuven: Peeters, 1993). N. Melikišwili, “Die georgische Übersetzung der Antiquitates des Flavius Josephus,” in Internationales Josephus-Kolloquium Aarhus 1999, ed. J. U. Kalms, MJSt 6 (Münster: LIT, 2000), 57–62. G. Péradze: “Die Probleme der Ältesten Kirchengeschichte Georgiens,” Oriens Christianus 20 (1932), 153–71. S. H. Rapp, Jr., “The Georgian Nimrod,” in The Armenian Apocryphal Tradition, ed. K. B. Bardakjian and  S. La Porta (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 189–216. M. Tarchnišvili, Geschichte der kirchlichen Georgischen Literatur, Studi e testi 185 (Vatican: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1955). JAN DOCHHORN

Related entries: Apocrypha, “Old Testament”; Esdras, Second Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Multilingualism; Syriac.

Gerizim, Mount Mount Gerizim, 2,849 feet high, is located on the south side of the Nablus Valley (at ancient Shechem), directly across from Mount Ebal on the valley’s north side. In the Second Temple period, Mount Gerizim was the site of several historic events. Sometime during the second half of the 5th century bce, Sanballat the governor of Samaria built a temple to Yahweh on the top of Mount Gerizim (Ant. 11.306–312, 321–328), and the structure stood for more than three centuries. The 294

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Hasmonean king John Hyrcanus marched from the south and destroyed the Samaritan temple in 128 bce (Ant. 13.254–256; J.W. 1.62–63). Later the Romans were equally forceful when they executed 11,600 Samaritans on top of Mount Gerizim around 70 ce (J.W. 3.307–315; see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]), and in the subsequent century the emperor Hadrian built a temple of Zeus over the Samaritan ruins. Earlier, 2 Maccabees 6:2 reports that in the 2nd century bce the Samaritan temple had been renamed for Zeus by Antiochus Epiphanes. The rise and fall of the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim provides a window into relations between Judeans and Samarians at this time. In general, these relations were strained, but the tension waxed and waned. In fact, for much of the period between the 5th and the 2nd century there was a détente of sorts that is reflected in how these two communities interpreted references to Mount Gerizim in their sacred texts (most of which are now in the Book of Deuteronomy). Crucially, the Samaritan Pentateuch is distinctive in rendering Deuteronomy 27:4 as an instruction to build a stone altar on Mount Gerizim, a location also attested in the Old Latin and several other versions. In light of this agreement across several texts, the alternate location of the altar on Mount Ebal that is found in the Masoretic Tradition (MT) is considered by some to be the variant tradition (Anderson and Giles 2012: 10, 53). The Samaritans’ next exegetical move was to pair the reference to Mount Gerizim in Deuteronomy 27:4 with another in Deuteronomy 11:29 to create a frame around Deuteronomy 12–26, the law code that serves as the book’s core. As a result, Mount Gerizim gained a deep resonance with Deuteronomic teaching and in Samarian circles became associated with the divinely mandated central sanctuary in Deuteronomy 12. In the words of Gary Knoppers (2013: 106), “The mention of Mount Gerizim in Deuteronomy 11:29, just prior to the introduction of the centralization commands, reinforces by association the position of Mount Gerizim as the divinely mandated central sanctuary. From such a northern perspective, literary proximity was a key to understanding the force of the centralization mandate.” Knoppers adds that given the pride of place that Mount Gerizim enjoyed in Samarian interpretation, there is a clear line of continuity from Abram’s altar at Gerizim (Gen 12:6) to the centralization legislation in Deuteronomy 12 and finally to the reference to Mount Gerizim in Deuteronomy 27:4. While the Samarians understood Mount Gerizim as an arc across the Torah that unified these scriptures, Judeans to the south read the texts differently. As noted above, the Masoretic Text has Mount Ebal as the site of the altar in Deuteronomy 27:4, thereby reducing references to Mount Gerizim by one. The Judeans inferred that the central sanctuary in Deuteronomy 12 was none other than Jerusalem, further distancing themselves from the Samarian interpretive tradition. While these developments had the potential to alienate the Judeans and Samarians completely, the fact that both communities could read Torah legislation on worship in a manner that supported their own beliefs led to a détente of sorts. Yahwists in the north and south differed in their understanding of Mount Gerizim, but followed other Torah teachings that were in most cases very similar if not identical. This state of affairs changed dramatically in 128 bce when Hyrcanus attacked Mount Gerizim and destroyed the Samaritan temple. His achievement was viewed positively in the south as securing an unrivaled cult to Yahweh that would serve all of Israel. In the aftermath, however, relations between the Judeans and Samarians worsened, with the latter feeling increasing resentment. In response, the Samarians continued to interpret and augment Torah in light of their own interests; specifically, they revised the “ten words” to include a command to worship at Mount Gerizim. This and other additions effectively created a new edition of the Pentateuch 295

Giants

that differed markedly from the Jewish Pentateuch. Thanks to the Samaritan Pentateuch, Mount Gerizim remained prominent in the northern community as the locus of worship in the past and the future; Samarians held that Mount Gerizim’s cult would be restored in a future era when a prophet like Moses (Deut 18:15–16) would restore pure worship there.

Bibliography G. Knoppers, Jews and Samaritans: The Origins and History of Their Early Relations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). RICHARD J. BAUTCH

Related entries: Deuteronomy, Book of; Hasmonean Dynasty; Samaria-Sebaste.

Giants In the context of Second Temple Judaism the word “giant” generally signifies violent and semidivine creatures who lived before the flood. Genesis 6:1–4 recounts that “the sons of God” descended to earth and mated with women. This union produced offspring called gibbōrîm (‫)גבורים‬, literally “mighty men.” The word gibbōr appears throughout the Hebrew Bible to denote exceptional and powerful soldiers (e.g. 2 Sam 23:16). Genesis 6:4 also mentions Nephilim (‫נפלים‬, “fallen ones”), which may be another designation for the “mighty men.” The Septuagint version of Genesis 6:4 refers to the offspring as gigantes (γίγαντες, “giants”), likely reflecting an interpretatio graeca that conflates them with the gigantes of Greek myth, the violent children of Gaia and Uranos who fought unsuccessfully against the gods (cf. Josephus, Ant. 1.73; Philo, QG 1.92). Early Jewish literature shows extensive interest in the myth of the angels who descended to earth before the flood. Whereas Genesis 6 does not recount any exploits of the giants, several Second Temple texts include brief accounts that depict them as wicked and violent creatures whose deeds helped trigger the flood (3 Macc 2:4; 3 Bar. 4:10; Wis 14:6; 4Q370 1.6–7; Sir 16:7; Bar 3:26–28; CD A ii 17–19; cf. Sib. Or. 1.104–282; Jub. 5:2–10, 7:21–25). Several of these texts affirm that the giants died in the flood (3 Macc; 3 Bar.; Wis; Bar; 4Q370). Some also appeal to them as evidence that God punishes the wicked (cf. Sir; Jub.). The giants receive extensive treatment in Enochic literature. The Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36, hereafter Watchers), some of which is available in Aramaic fragments from Qumran (Milik 1976), offers a vivid and gruesome portrait of the giants. They first eat the food of the humans, then the humans, and then the giants begin to consume one another (1 En. 7:3–5). According to most manuscripts they are 3,000 cubits in height. So understood, humans are more victims than agents of the evil that led to the flood. The giants kill one another in a war of mutual destruction instigated by the archangel Gabriel (1 En. 10:9). This internecine violence destroys their physical bodies, but their spirits remain, which God announces will harass and harm humankind (15:11). The giants myth of Watchers (3rd cent. bce) functions as the earliest known etiology of demonic spirits in Second Temple Judaism. Further accounts of the giants based on this book are found in the 2nd century bce Jubilees and the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch (1 En. 86:1–89:8; Jub. 5:2–10; 7:21–25; Stuckenbruck 2014: 21–30). The highly fragmentary Qumran Book of Giants, written in Aramaic, also preserves a tale about the giants that relies on Watchers, but the two texts are quite different (Goff 2016). This 296

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Book of Giants, unlike Watchers, has named giants, such as Ohyah, Hahyah, and Mahaway. The Qumran Book of Giants focuses not on the violence on the giants but rather on their reception of visions and efforts to seek Enoch to interpret them (4Q530 2 ii; 4Q530 7 ii; Goff 2015; Goff 2016). Several traditions in this text, such as giants named Ohyah and Hayhah, do not appear again until later texts, namely the rabbinic Midrash of Shemḥazai and Azael and the Manichaean Book of Giants, fragments of which were found in Turfan (western China; Kósa 2016; Morano 2016; Reeves 2016; Wilkins 2016). Early Jewish accounts of the giants composed in Greek are often quite different from those in Enochic literature. Pseudo-Eupolemus reconfigures the giants euhemeristically as humans, claiming that some of them survived the flood and that one named Belos built the Tower of Babel (so Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.17.2–9; cf. Sib. Or. 3.97–155; Stuckenbruck 2014: 7–12). Philo devotes a short treatise to the giants of Genesis 6 (De gigantibus), understanding them not as actual creatures but rather as allegorical representations of vices and moral failings (see also Deus 1–4; QG 1.90–92). Josephus claims that the children of the angels were arrogant and physically powerful, and that they corrupted the upright sons of Seth (Ant. 1.72–74). Several late Second Temple texts also continue the trope evident in the Hebrew Bible that before the arrival of the Israelites giants dwelled in Canaan, colossal and intimidating peoples such as the Rephaim and the Anakim, whom Numbers 13:33 associates with the Nephilim of Genesis 6 (Jub. 29:9–11; Josephus, Ant. 3.304–305; 4.96–98; 5.125; cf. T. Jud. 3:3–7). The word “giant” can also signify contemporary individuals who are exceptionally tall (Ant. 18.104) or powerful warriors (1 Macc 3:3; cf. Jud 16:7). Usually, however, the term denotes the powerful and destructive sons of the angels who lived before the flood.

Bibliography M. Goff, “The Sons of the Watchers in the Book of Watchers and the Qumran Book of Giants: Contexts and Prospects,” Ancient Tales (2016), 115–28. M. Goff, “Warriors, Cannibals and Teachers of Evil: The Sons of the Angels in Genesis 6, the Book of the Watchers and the Book of Jubilees,” SEÅ 80 (2015): 79–97. G. Kósa, “The Book of Giants Tradition in the Chinese Manichaica,” Ancient Tales (2016), 145–86. E. Morano, “Some New Sogdian Fragments Related to Mani’s Book of Giants and the Problem of the Influence of Jewish Enochic Literature,” Ancient Tales (2016), 187–98. J. C. Reeves, “Jacob of Edessa and the Manichean Book of Giants?” Ancient Tales (2016), 199–212. J. Wilkens, “Remarks on the Manichean Book of Giants: Once Again on Mahaway’s Mission to Enoch,” Ancient Tales (2016), 213–30. MATTHEW GOFF

Related entries: Demons and Exorcism; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enochic Circles; Fallen Angels; Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Philo of Alexandria; Sin; Violence.

Gnosticism Introduction.  The term “Gnosticism” has been applied to varying systems concerned with “knowledge” (γνῶσις, gnōsis) that took shape in the 2nd century ce. Prominent in these systems, though not ubiquitous throughout, are elements that reflect or relate to the following perspective: The material world, subject to fate and death, is categorically distinct from the immaterial and

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completely transcendent divine, from whose lower periphery it came into being. Nevertheless, a divine spark of “knowledge” that derives from the divine resides in humans and can be awakened in order to achieve reintegration with the divine (cf. Bianchi 1978). Scholars nevertheless regularly question whether any succinct definition can do justice to the complexity of ideas found in ancient “Gnostic” sources (King 2003: 5–20). A Jewish origin for Gnosticism was first claimed in the 19th century by Grätz (1846). Friedländer (1898) developed this claim further when he stated that the heretics accused by rabbinical sources of believing in “two powers in heaven” were the first Gnostics. During the 20th century, many scholars have variously claimed that Gnosticism originated in one or more movements or modes of thought broadly related to Judaism, including: Samaritans, wisdom literature, apocalyptic literature, Qumran, Baptist groups, Hellenistic diaspora Judaism, Jewish skepticism, and Jewish mysticism (cf. Rudolph 1987: 277–82). Admittedly, this wide array of possibilities was facilitated by the lack of a consistent definition of Gnosticism. Links with Judaism in Scholarly Discussion. Two approaches to links between Gnosticism and Judaism can be discerned among scholars: literary and sociopolitical. First, the literary approach focuses on alleged thematic parallels as they relate to a number of areas for inquiry, such as: theological, cosmological, and anthropological dualism; cosmogony; angelology; and world-rejecting pessimism. These areas, in turn, are explored among gnostic and Jewish sources in order to determine genealogical links between them (see Lahe 2012: 99–157). Thus, while Rudolph (1987: 275–93) saw close contacts between dualistic and world-pessimistic outlooks in wisdom and apocalyptic literature on the one hand and Gnosticism on the other, Tröger (2001: 145–46), e.g., has maintained that the parallels show Judaism as having been the primary source of influence. Recent studies, however, reject dualism as the main characteristic of Gnosticism (Williams 1996: 101–15; King 2003: 175–89) and apocalyptic literature (Collins 2001: 75–84) and so have attempted to disavow that any such relationship existed (Burns 2014: 358). Others have pointed to processes of hybridization in Hellenistic diaspora Judaism as being the origin of Gnosticism. Thus Jonas (1934: 70) focused on the intermingling of Judaism and Greek philosophy in Philo of Alexandria—he was a Gnostic avant la lettre in their view—while Pokorny (1975: 761) has recognized motifs in Philo that set the stage for the rise of Gnosticism. Notwithstanding these claims, Philo was not a gnostic (Lahe 2012: 138–39). Adopting a different perspective, Quispel (1981: 416) has considered fundamental Gnostic anthropological, cosmological, and theological mythologoumena that could have had their origin among Hellenistic diaspora Jews. Luttikhuizen (2006: 6–12) has been critical of this view, rightly pointing out that the use of Jewish motifs and scriptures should not be confused with a Jewish origin, since early Christians also made use of Jewish biblical and extra-biblical texts. Others have evaluated the encounter of Judaism and Greek culture in the Hellenistic diaspora in a negative light, and thought this encounter triggered a crisis leading to Jewish skepticism (Hengel 1974: 228–46). Following Rudolph (1987: 282), Tröger (2001: 72), e.g., regards the pessimism of Ecclesiastes (Qohelet) as having provided potentially fertile soil for the Gnostic worldview. Taking esoteric knowledge of the divine as a main characteristic of Gnosticism, Scholem searched for its origin in early forms of Jewish mysticism (1962: 7–8). But, as Meier (1980) has convincingly argued, such a relationship relies on vague definitions of both Gnosticism

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and Jewish mysticism. Despite considering Merkabah mysticism as a possible origin for Gnosis, Gruenwald nevertheless concludes that, structural similarities notwithstanding, they remain essentially different phenomena (1988: 205). Furthermore, Gnosticism has been genealogically linked to Baptist groups, such as the early 2nd-century Elchasaites (Simon 1960). The importance of baptism as ascribed to the Gnostic Sethians and later Mandaean groups has been adduced as support for this view (Tröger 2001: 73). Some go a step further and find in a reference to Dositheus at the beginning of The Three Steles of Seth (NHC VII.5) proof of a Samaritan origin. Structural and thematic similarities have also been adduced to claim contacts between Qumran and Gnosticism. Scholars mention the central place of knowledge, anthropological dualism, a developed angelology, and asceticism. A closer look, however, reveals major differences despite apparent similarities (Tröger 1980: 157–58). Second, there is the sociopolitical approach, which has largely relied on an outdated and simplistic understanding of Gnosticism as “dualistic,” “pessimistic,” or “world-denying.” Scholars have attempted to determine a “time of anxiety,” to use Dodds’ words (1991), such as a social or political crisis, to explain the development of the Gnostic worldview. Among the possible contexts for such a development, scholars have referred to the Hasmonean period (so Parrott in Smith 2004: 49 n. 16), 1st century ce Palestine (Rudolph 1987: 282), the First Jewish Revolt against Rome (66–73/74 ce; Grant 1966: 2), the period between the Jewish Revolts (70–135 ce; Dahl 1981: 701) and the Bar Kokhba revolt (132–135 ce; Segal 1977: 60–73). The hypothesis involving the social, economic, and political tension in Egypt during the revolt against Trajan in 115–117 ce (Pearson 1990: 247) has also gained supporters during the last few decades. Among them is Smith (2004: 44–71), who, however, engages in circular reasoning: he first establishes the negative view of the Old Testament God and his creation as the core of Gnostic identity, and then goes on to scrutinize the historical period between 200 bce and 150 ce in search for the socioeconomic milieu that might explain how Jews could have turned against God. Gnosticism as a Worldview.  Very recent scholarship in the wake of Williams (1996) has tended (1) to refrain from a quest for origins, preferring instead to focus on an understanding of the Gnostic worldview: “Any attempt to resolve the multifarious materials into a single origin and linear genealogy is doomed to fail on its own premise” (King 2003: 189–90); and (2) to dissociate Gnosticism as a worldview from any particular religious group. While for Van den Broek (2013: 229–30) Gnostic religion can attach itself to an existing religious or philosophical system, DeConick (2016) finds in Gnosticism a spiritual orientation that, as such, transcends Judaism in the same way it transcends Christianity and Egyptian and Persian religions.

Bibliography U. Bianchi, “Le Gnosticisme: Concept, Terminologie, Origines, Delimitation,” in Gnosis. Festschrift fur Hans Jonas, ed. Barbara Aland (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978), 33–64. D. Burns. “Apocalypses among Gnostics and Manichaeans,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. J. J. Collins (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 358–72. N. Dahl, “The Arrogant Archon and the Lewd Sophia: Jewish Traditions in Gnostic Revolt,” in The Rediscovery of Gnosticism: Proceedings of the International Conference on Gnosticism at Yale, New Haven, Connecticut, March 28–31, 1978, ed. B. Layton, SHR 41, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1980–1981), 689–712. 299

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A. DeConick, “The Countercultural Gnostic: Turning the World Upside Down and Inside Out,” Gnosis: Journal of Gnostic Studies 1 (2016), 7–35. E. R. Dodds, Pagan and Christian in an Age of Anxiety: Some Aspects of Religious Experience from Marcus Aurelius to Constantine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991; repr. 1965). M. Friedländer, Der vorchristliche Gnostizismus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1898). R. M. Grant, Gnosticism and Early Christianity, 2nd ed. (New York: Harper & Row, 1966). H. Grätz, Gnosticismus und Judentum (Farnborough: Gregg, 1971; repr. 1846). I. Gruenwald, From Apocalypticism to Gnosticism. Studies in Apocalypticism, Merkavah, Mysticism and Gnosticism, BEAT 14 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1988). H. Jonas, Gnosis und spätantiker Geist. Teil 1: Die mythologische Gnosis, mit einer Einleitung zur Geschichte und Methodologie der Forschung (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1934). K. L. King, What Is Gnosticism? (Cambridge: BelkPress of Harvard University Press, 2003). J. Lahe, Gnosis und Judentum Alttestamentliche und jüdische Motive in der gnostischen Literatur und das Ursprungsproblem der Gnosis, NHMS 75 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). G. P. Luttikhuizen, Gnostic Revisions of Genesis Stories and Early Jesus Traditions, NHMS 58 (Leiden: Brill, 2006). J. Meier, “Jüdische Faktoren bei der Entstehung der Gnosis?” in Altes Testament—Frühjudentum—Gnosis. Neue Studien zu „Gnosis und Bibel,” ed. K.-W. Tröger (Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1980), 239–58. B. A. Pearson, Gnosticism, Judaism, and Egyptian Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990). P. Pokorny, “Der Ursprung der Gnosis,” in Gnosis und Gnostizismus, ed. K. Rudolph, WdF CCLXII (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1975), 749–67. G. Quispel, “Gnosis,” in Die orientalischen Religionen im Romerreich, ed. Maarten J. Vermaseren (Leiden: Brill, 1981), 413–35. K. Rudolph, Gnosis: The Nature and History of Gnosticism, trans. R. McL. Wilson (San Francisco: HarperSanfrancisco, 1987). G. Scholem, Origins of the Kabbalah, trans. A. Arkush (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962; repr. 1928). M. Simon, Les Sectes Juives Au Temps De Jésus, Mythes et religions 40 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1960). C. B. Smith, No Longer Jews: The Search for Gnostic Origins (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004). K.-W. Tröger, “Gnosis und Judentum,” in idem AltesTestament—Frühjudentum –Gnosis. Neue Studien zu “Gnosis und Bibel” (Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1980), 155–68. K.-W. Tröger, Die Gnosis. Heilslehre und Ketzerglaube, Herder spektrum 4953 (Freiburg: Herder, 2001). R. Van den Broek, The Gnostic Religion in Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). M. A. Williams, Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996). LAUTARO ROIG LANZILLOTTA

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Nag Hammadi Codices; Persian Religion; Revolt, Second Jewish.

God-Fearers The designation “God-fearer” is used to translate several expressions attested in ancient Greek (Feldman 1993: 342–82). For example, the expression σεβόμενοι [τόν θεόν], sebomenoi [ton theon] is applied by Josephus (Ant. 1.96) to pious Judeans (8.280) or to gentiles who contributed to the Jerusalem Temple (Ant. 14.110). In the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (T. Jos. 4:6) it describes the Egyptian princess Aseneth (cf. Gen 41:45, 50), whereas in the New Testament it occurs only in Acts (13:50; 16:14; 17:4, 17) in reference to gentiles who worship the God of Israel, specifically Titius Justus (Acts 18:7). 300

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Another expression, φοβουμένοι [τόν θεόν] (phoboumenoi [ton theon]), can denote unspecified believers (Luke 1:50), the Roman centurion Cornelius (Acts 10:2, 22) or some gentiles in Paul’s audience (Acts 13:16, 26). Justin Martyr (Dialogus cum Tryphone 10.3–4, 24.3) uses it for gentiles who were said to follow Jewish laws. Finally, its verbal form is found in Deuteronomy 10:20 (LXX) to describe faithful Israelites. A further related word, θεοσεβής (theosebēs), is used by Josephus (Ant. 20.195) for Nero’s wife Poppaea Sabina. Many inscriptions use variants of this term to refer to the adherents of the pagan cult worshiping Theos Hypsistos (Mitchell 1999: 128–47). It occurs in a 2nd-century inscription from the theater in Miletus to imply that Jewish leaders used the term to honor those gentiles who had become their associates in local projects (Wander 1998: 87–137). Two 4th-century Jewish inscriptions from Aphrodisias, Asia Minor, employ this term for at least 55 gentiles, who had joined with Jews in providing local food relief (Reynolds and Tannenbaum 1987). Six of the 80 Greek inscriptions from the synagogue in Sardis refer to their donors as theosebēs, and scholars are divided about whether these people were pious Jewish believers (Deut 10:20; cf. Barrett 1994: 499–501) or gentile sympathizers. A long-accepted but recently challenged view of the identity of these “God-fearers” is rooted in the use of the first two expressions in Acts. At issue is whether, as technical terms, they refer to gentiles who had developed a close relationship to Judeans, and more specifically denote their beliefs, their uplifting morality, and their participation in synagogue life. According to this theory, they honored the God of the Israelites without taking the final step of becoming proselytes through circumcision and taking on the entire yoke of the Mosaic law. The emphasis in the synagogue on learning, on worship without sacrifice, and on God-inspired communitybuilding was apparently increasingly attractive to them. The evidence is unclear, however, about whether these “God-fearing” gentiles had renounced the worship of other divinities as a condition for Judeans and Jews to honor them with this description. Thus scholars have rejected the term “semi-proselytes” for these people (Kraabel 1981). Apparently, in most cases, being a gentile who cultivated good social relations with Jewish neighbors was sufficient to be called a “God-fearer” in an unspecified way. By contrast, theosebēs was the particular term that gentile worshipers of Theos Hypsistos used for themselves as early as the 2nd century bce. Partly because this monotheistic cult was popular in many areas of the Judean, Greek-speaking diaspora, at least one scholar has suggested that this specific gentile use of theosebēs influenced the more general application by Judean authors (Mitchell 1999: 115–21). These “God-fearers,” unlike gentiles who formally converted to Judaism (prosēlytes), had no status in the Judean legal tradition and no widely recognized social position. The evidence strongly suggests, moreover, that any concern for the ritual purity of gentiles posed no barrier to the Jews’ association with these Judean sympathizers. A more primary concern would have been the moral purity of these people, including the worship of idols, which probably varied from situation to situation (Hayes 2002: 19–67). The diversity of spatial and temporal contexts in which various terms translated “God-fearer” appear makes clear that those referred to during and after the Second Temple period are gentiles who had cultivated positive relationships to varying degrees with their Jewish neighbors in a way that distinguished them from “ordinary” gentiles (Hengel and Schwemer 1997: 62–70). In that context, the characterization of gentile “God-fearers” in Acts displays an intent to present them as a well-defined group that largely agreed with the theology and practices of Second Temple 301

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Israelites, more than that was generally the case for those more generally designated as “Godfearers” across the Mediterranean world (Wander 1998: 180–203).

Bibliography C. K. Barrett, The Acts of the Apostles, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994). M. Hengel and A. M. Schwemer, Paul between Damascus and Antioch (London: SCM Press, 1997). T. Kraabel, “The Disappearance of the God-Fearers,” Numen 13 (1981): 113–26. S. Mitchell, “The Cult of Theos Hypsistos between Pagans, Jews, and Christians,” in Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, ed. P. Athanassiadi and M. Frede (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999), 81–148. J. Reynolds and R. Tannenbaum, Jews and Godfearers at Aphrodisias (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, supplementary volume 12, 1987). B. Wander, Gottesfürchtige und Sympathisanten, WUNT, 104 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998). S. SCOTT BARTCHY

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Conversion and Proselytism; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Idols and Images; Joseph and Aseneth; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Purification and Purity; Synagogues.

Grace (Ḥesed) Grace (χάρις, charis), closely associated with the term ḥesed (‫)חסד‬, is a concept that is both fundamental to and pervasive in Second Temple Judaism. Following the Hebrew Scriptures, the Second Temple writings present grace as a primary characteristic of God (1QHa viii 24–25; 2 Bar. 77:7; Wis 9:1; Philo, Praem. 117). Creation (Philo, Leg. 3.78), human life (2 Bar. 48:15), covenant (LAB 3:4; 1QS i 8; 4Q504 1–2R v 1), Torah (Bar 3:29–4:1), the forgiveness of sins (Jub. 5:17–19; Sir 2:11, 17:29; Wis 11:23), personal transformation (Jub. 1:19–20; Bar 2:31, 3:7; 1 En 5:8–9; 4Q504 4.5–7), eschatological salvation (1 En 1:8; 4 Ezra 14:34; 2 Bar. 78:7), and much more could be attributed to God’s benevolence. Thus the hymns from Qumran marvel at God’s abundant mercy (1QHa v 34; xv 33; xvii 34; 4Q434 1 i 3–4, 7–11), which the author of LAB describes as filling the earth (39:6). The prevalence of grace during this period has not always been recognized, however. Interpretive traditions related to Paul biased scholarship such that Judaism was long considered bereft of grace (Weber 1897; Bousset 1903; Strack and Billerbeck 1922–1928). This consensus was effectively overturned in 1977 when E.P. Sanders argued that God’s prevenient gift of election and covenant secured Judaism in a grace-framed pattern of religion. Though some pushed back against Sanders’ thesis due to the fact that Jewish perspectives do not always match Protestant notions of sola gratia, it is questionable whether the latter’s highly determined configuration of grace should be privileged. And in any case, that God’s grace was everywhere assumed and acknowledged in this literature is difficult to deny. But if the concept of grace is widespread in Jewish antiquity, it is not monolithic (Barclay 2015). Whereas a philosophical writer like Philo of Alexandria could conceive of God’s grace primarily in terms of creation and God’s creative agency (Praem. 114–117), in LAB grace works out in the history of God’s unwavering commitment to his covenant with Israel (28:5; 30:7; 32:14; 35:3). In the Yahadic Scrolls, God’s grace is manifest in God’s raising up a “teacher of righteousness” and in

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the revelation of eschatological halakah (1QpHab vii 5; cf. CD i 1–11, iii 12–16), while for Paul grace is rethought around God’s sending of Christ and Spirit (Gal 1:4; 3:3–5). Disparity exists not only in the primary forms that God’s grace took but also with respect to the theological and anthropological frameworks in which grace was thought to operate (Linebaugh 2013; Wells 2015; McFarland 2016). For some grace primarily aids, empowers, or creates (Philo, Fug. 141; Let. Aris. 207; 1 Cor 15:10); for others, it remits, overlooks, or restores (LAB 12:4–10; 19:11; 30:1–7; T. Mos. 4:1–5). If some forms of grace could be understood as a present reality (Jub. 1:15–25; 5:17–19; 1QS i 21–ii 1; CD i 1–11), those living after 70 ce tend to construe grace as a matter of future hope (4 Ezra 6:25–28; 2 Bar. 51:1–3, 82:2). While in some rare cases the pervasiveness of human sin necessitates that grace is given regardless of worth (Bar 2:19–3:8; 1QHa xv 31–34; Rom 5:8–10), far more often concerns about the moral and rational order of the universe led authors to correlate God’s gifts with human worth (Philo, Somn. 2.177; Sir 12:1; Wis 6:11–20; 4 Ezra 8:38–39, 14:33–35; 2 Bar. 14:12, 78:6–7, 85:15; Jub. 2:22–23, 15:30–32; LAB 3:4, 51:5). To condition grace does not negate it, however. In each case God’s grace grants to recipients that which they could not demand and could never effect. Nevertheless, various Jewish theologies of grace were irreducibly diverse.

Bibliography W. Bousset, Die Religion des Judentums im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter (Berlin: Ruether & Reichard, 1903). J. A. Linebaugh, God, Grace, and Righteousness in Wisdom of Solomon and Paul’s Letter to the Romans: Texts in Conversation, NovT Sup 152 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). O. McFarland, God and Grace in Philo and Paul, NovT Sup 164 (Leiden: Brill, 2016). F. Weber, Jüdische Theologie auf Grund des Talmud und verwandter Schriften, ed. F. Delitzsch and G. Schnedermann (Leipzig: Dörffling & Franke, 1897). K. B. Wells, Grace and Agency in Paul and Second Temple Judaism: Interpreting the Transformation of the Heart, NovT Sup 157 (Leiden: Brill, 2015). KYLE B. WELLS

Related entries: Covenant; Covenantal Nomism; Faith and Faithfulness; Righteousness and Justice.

Greece and the Aegean There was a considerable number of Jewish communities in Greece and the Aegean in the Second Temple period and later, although evidence for them is unfortunately very fragmentary (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). It is not known when these communities were founded. The earliest evidence comes from an inscription from the sanctuary of Amphiaraus at Oropus in Attica, to be dated to the late 4th or early 3rd century bce, in which Moschus “son of Moschion, a Jew” was manumitted (IJO 1: Ach 45). There are other examples as well; for instance, 1 Maccabees 15:23, a letter from Rome written in 140 bce, may indicate that Jews lived in Delos and Gortyn (Crete) at that time. In two decrees from around 49 bce, Josephus provides evidence for Jews in Delos and perhaps Paros (Ant. 14.213–216, 231–232). In Legatio ad Gaium 281–282, written in the early 40s ce, Philo indicates that in the 1st century ce there were Jews in the regions of Thessaly, Boeotia, Macedonia, Aetolia, Attica, and the Peloponnesus, in Argos and Corinth, and on the islands of Euboea and

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Crete. According to Josephus (J.W. 3.540) in 66 ce Vespasian sent 6,000 Jewish prisoners to the Isthmus of Corinth and Josephus also gives evidence for Jews on Crete (Life 427; J.W. 2.101–3; Ant. 17.324–338). The New Testament shows that Jews lived in Crete, Philippi, Thessaloniki, Beroea, Athens, and Corinth (Acts 2:11; 16:12–39; 17:1–15, 17; 18:4–8). Inscriptions attest to the presence of Jewish communities throughout the region, including in Stobi, Philippi, Thessaloniki, Larissa, Athens, Delphi, Corinth, Delos, Rheneia, and Crete. In 1913, Plassart identified an excavated building on Delos as a synagogue. However, this identification is far from certain and must remain an open question (see Matassa 2007). The building concerned, which had two main rooms, was constructed as a public building and was located next to a residential area on the northeastern seashore of the island, a short distance from the harbor of Ghournia. It was built in the 2nd century bce, renovated after 88 bce, and continued to be used until the end of the 2nd or the beginning of the 3rd century ce. Its identification as a synagogue was based on four votive inscriptions dedicated to Theos Hypsistos or Hypsistos (“Most High God” and “Most High One,” respectively) inscribed on carved stelae of white marble in the shape of horned altars and with lead fixing, which were found in the building. These are to be dated to the 1st century bce and the 2nd century ce (IJO 1, Ach 60–64). It is now known that many non-Jews made dedications to Theos Hypsistos and Hypsistos. However, there are two Jewish epitaphs of the 2nd or early 1st century bce from Rheneia, the burial island of Delos, which show that Jews on Delos did use Theos Hypsistos with reference to their God (IJO 1, Ach 70–71). The phrase “epi proseuchē” (ἐπὶ προσευχῇ) was part of another inscription found around 90 m from the building identified as a synagogue (IJO 1: Ach 65), but this cannot have the meaning of “for the prayer hall” since there is no article with proseuchē; the phrase must mean “(in fulfillment of) a prayer/vow.” The evidence then is indecisive. It has also been suggested that two Samaritan honorific inscriptions found nearby, dated to 250–175 bce and 150–50 bce respectively (IJO 1: Ach 66–67), came from a Samaritan synagogue, or that the building already discussed could be a Samaritan rather than a Jewish synagogue. According to an inscription to be dated between 150 and 250 ce, Claudius Tiberius Polycharmus donated the ground floor of his house to the Jewish community at Stobi for use as a synagogue (IJO 1, Mac 1). The building concerned has been excavated and went through two building phases as a synagogue, but in the mid-5th century the building became a church. According to Acts (cf. Levinskaya 1996: 153–66), there were also synagogues in Thessalonica (17:1–3), Beroea (17:10), Athens (17:17), and Corinth (18:4–8). A range of factors suggests that Jews maintained their identity in Greece and the Aegean. At their request, the Jews on Delos and perhaps Paros were allowed to contribute money to common meals and “sacred rites” and to follow ancestral customs (Ant. 14.213–216), and Jews from Delos were exempted from military service “in consideration of their religious scruples” (Ant. 14.231–232). Two stone epitaphs from Rheneia containing a prayer for vengeance against murderers of two Jewish women, respectively; these include a range of allusions to the Septuagint and probably provide evidence for the observance of the Day of Atonement (IJO 1: Ach 70–71; van der Horst and Newman 2008: 135–44; Figure 4.51). The synagogues mentioned in the New Testament attest to Jews gathering as a community, reading the Torah, and keeping the Sabbath. The inscription from Stobi says that Polycharmus had lived his “whole life according to Judaism” (IJO 1: Mac 1: lines 6–9). However, an inscription from Oropus (IJO 1: Ach 45; 300–250 bce) records that a Jew underwent incubation in a pagan temple and another inscription from Delphi (IJO 1: Ach 44; late 2nd–early 1st cent. bce) shows that a Jew manumitted a slave in a pagan temple. 304

Greek

Figure 4.51  Rheneia inscription (late 2nd–early 1st cent. bce) containing near identical text on both sides of the stone (A-B; IJO 70).

Evidence that might indicate the social position of the Jewish communities in their cities is meager. The first synagogue in Stobi may have been destroyed by an earthquake that severely damaged other buildings in the city, but the community in Stobi was able to rebuild the synagogue on the same site shortly after its destruction. The Jewish communities in Thessalonica (Acts 17:4), Athens (Acts 17:7), and Corinth (Acts 18:7) attracted a number of gentile God-fearers. There was a Jewish place of prayer in Philippi that also attracted God-fearers (Acts 16:13–14). There is no evidence that the Jewish communities in Greece and the Aegean were affected by the war of 66–70, the diaspora revolt of 115–117 ce, or the Bar Kokhba war of 132–135 ce.

Bibliography E. Habas, “The Dedication of Polycharmos from Stobi: Problems of Dating and Interpretation,” JQR 92 (2001), 41–78. I. Levinskaya, The Book of Acts In Its Diaspora Setting (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996). L. Matassa, “Unravelling the Myth of the Synagogue on Delos,” BAIAS 25 (2007): 81–115. M. Trümper, “The Oldest Original Synagogue Building in the Diaspora: The Delos Synagogue Reconsidered,” Hesperia 73 (2004): 513–98. PAUL TREBILCO

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, Second Jewish; Synagogues; Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 CE; Kitos War).

Greek The coming of Greek to Palestine is an oft-told tale requiring no detailed rehearsal here. Martin Hengel amassed and analyzed much of the relevant data in his Judaism and Hellenism, as had 305

Greek

Victor Tcherikover earlier and in great detail in Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (1959: 1–151). Hengel opined, “The final establishment and dissemination of the koine was probably the most valuable and the most permanent fruit of Alexander’s expedition” (1974: 1.58). Perhaps, nevertheless, the degree to which Greek was spoken and read in Jewish Palestine during the Second Temple period has long been a matter of scholarly controversy. Many scholars today still maintain tenaciously the early 20th-century consensus that preceded the work of Hengel and Tcherikover: Greek was not a language of the Jewish peasantry, but— Greek ethnic centers such as the Decapolis aside—was largely confined to inhabitants of several Jewish cities, namely Jerusalem, Jericho, Sepphoris, and Tiberias. Even there, it was mostly a possession of the elite. Thus, e.g., the judgment of Lester Grabbe, “The use of Greek seems to have been confined to a particular segment of the population, namely the educated upper class. To what extent it penetrated into the lives of the bulk of the population is difficult to determine; however, the number of Jews outside the Greek cities who were fluent in Greek seems small” (1992: 1.158). The situation of Greek in Palestine would then essentially mirror that of Phoenicia and Egypt in these years. Yet in the years since the Judean Desert finds of the mid-20th century, especially, a growing cadre of scholars would give a nod to A. W. Argyle’s pithy simile. Argyle wrote particularly of Jesus and the Galilee, but his words are often cited as encapsulating the Judean situation as well: “To suggest that a Jewish boy growing up in Galilee would not know Greek would be rather like suggesting that a Welch boy brought up in Cardiff would not know English” (1973–1974: 88). Inscriptions and documentary materials have necessarily been the focus regarding Jewish Greek in this period. Excluding the use of scriptures translated into Greek, the earnest advocates for Greek as a significant literary language among the Jews of Roman Judea have never managed to assemble a compelling case. The problem has been a lack of clear evidence. While fragments do survive of a dozen or more Jewish authors of this time (figures such as Artapanus, Eupolemus, Theodotus, and Pseudo-Hecataeus), in many cases their Palestinian-Jewish bona fides are suspect. Accordingly, the case for Judean use of Greek hinges on assessment of the epigraphic evidence, and attention comes to rest almost exclusively on vernacular or lower register rather than literary usage. Inscriptional evidence in Judea is noteworthy, though sharply restricted to a few genres. It mainly consists of a small number of public inscriptions and a good many funerary inscriptions, the latter mostly found on ossuaries. In addition, the Judean Desert finds offer a window into Jewish use of Greek in Palestine, particularly via contracts written in that language and the signatures of principals and witnesses on those documents. Today some 3,000 ossuaries are known, almost all of them associated either with Jerusalem or Jericho. Somewhat less than one-third of them bear inscriptions, and the first volume of the Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palestinae presents nearly 600 such from Jerusalem in the years between Alexander the Great and the First Revolt. Many of the ossuary inscriptions are in Greek or use both Greek and a Semitic language (Hebrew or Aramaic). If bilingual ossuaries— inscribed with Greek and either Semitic tongue—are taken together with those inscribed in Greek alone, the total is 236 inscriptions. This is 40.2% of the total. Straightforwardly, such a robust percentage of Greek inscriptions on ossuaries would seem to reflect widespread knowledge of at least some Greek among the Jews of Jerusalem. Yet even the minimalists such as Grabbe have long conceded use in the major cities, as noted. At issue is what can be said about the rural regions, where over 70% of the population resided. 306

Greek

Here the Judean Desert materials, and in particular those associated with the Bar Kokhba refuge caves, make their contribution. Virtually all of these materials derive from villages or towns, not cities: large villages such as ʿEin-Gedi and Herodium, but small ones as well such as Mahoza and Beth-Bassi. One can study the behavior of signatories to the Greek contracts, noting whether they signed in Greek or, unable to do so, in Aramaic instead. This study is meaningful because, as manifold evidence indicates, it was the custom for Second Temple Jews to sign in the language of the contract if possible. One can also study the fluency of the signatures because of a proven correspondence between that fluency and the degree of literacy the signatory possessed. Thus one can estimate not only how many rural people knew some Greek but also how well they could read it. It emerges that literate Judeans generally could not sign in Greek. More than three times in four they would instead affix an Aramaic John Hancock to Greek writ. Thus, of the householder class represented in the contracts, about 19.8% of Judean men (women are not represented) had learned enough Greek to sign in it. Yet nearly 90% of those who signed in Greek did so with considerable fluency. This is a much higher percentage than those signing in Aramaic, as the data show: only about 40% of Aramaic writers were that fluent. Accordingly, it seems that those Judeans who applied themselves to Greek had as their goal the ability to read it with some ease. The data show that 15.1% of male Judean householders could read literature composed in Greek. What then did they choose to read? Was it the Greek literature being read in Rome or Athens or Oxyrhynchus? Among the Judean Desert cave deposits Greek writings were discovered, to be sure; but they were Judean works in Greek dress. Accordingly, the unique deposit of Qumran Cave 7, with its 19 literary scrolls, included only copies of Exodus, the Letter of Jeremiah, and 1 Enoch, so far as plausible identifications can be made. Similarly with the small number of Greek materials among the deposits of Qumran Cave 4, 4Q119 is a manuscript of Leviticus, as is 4Q120. 4Q121 is a copy of Numbers, 4Q122 of Deuteronomy. 4Q126 is too fragmentary to be identified; 4Q127 is a parabiblical work related to Exodus. 8ḤevXIIgr, the Greek Minor Prophets scroll from the Cave of Horror, was a Septuagintal form of those books substantially revised in the direction of the emerging proto-Masoretic Text. It seems, then, that a noteworthy percentage of the Judean population was ingesting its native traditions in the language of Javan. They learned Greek in order to read the scriptures. One reason to choose Greek for that purpose was that leaders in the villages often needed to know some Greek for other reasons, and it was simpler to study more Greek in order to read well rather than to circle back and begin the paideia anew in Hebrew. Further, the linguistic distance between the koine Greek of speech and the language of the Old Greek versions was much less than that between the spoken Hebrew of the period and biblical Hebrew. Therefore, it was actually easier to read in Greek if one had a moderate level of facility in speaking it. Thus a substantial amount of Greek was spoken and read in the latter period, in particular, of Second Temple Palestine.

Bibliography A. W. Argyle, “Greek among the Jews of Palestine in New Testament Times,” NTS 20 (1973–74): 87–89. P. W. van der Horst, “Greek in Jewish Palestine in Light of Jewish Epigraphy,” in Hellenism in the Land of Israel, ed. J. J. Collins and G. Sterling (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001), 154–74. MICHAEL OWEN WISE

Related entries: Dead Sea Scrolls; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Hellenism and Hellenization; Jesus of Nazareth; Literacy and Reading; Multilingualism; Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters); Paleography, Greek; Papyri from Qumran Cave 7. 307

Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism

Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism Early and Empathetic Depictions.  A solitary comment from Herodotus (5th cent. bce) about circumcision practiced among the “Syrians in Palestine” (Herodotus, Hist. 2.104.1–3) may be the earliest reference to Jews among Greek authors. The later conquests of Alexander the Great, including those of Palestine and Egypt, probably occasioned the first substantial wave of Greek curiosity and interest in the Jews, their origins, and their customs. The philosopher Theophrastus, a contemporary of Alexander, wrote about the Jews slaughtering animals at night while discussing the deity among themselves, making observations of the stars, and invoking god by name through prayers (see Porphyry, Abst. 2.26). While sacrificing, the Jews burn the animals whole, not eating them, and during the intervening days, they fast. Though Theophrastus was himself opposed to animal sacrifice, he noted that these practices were done out of religious obligation rather than personal desire. Nevertheless, he charged Jews with introducing both animal and human sacrifice. Hecataeus of Abdera relates that the breakout of a pestilence in ancient Egypt was attributed to divine power, which occasioned the expulsion of all foreigners. This non-Jewish version of the Exodus story not only entails the banishment of Moses and his people from Egypt and their subsequent settlement in Judea but also parallels it to the expulsion of other foreigners (Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca Historica 40.3.1–8). Jews were said to have been expelled to Judea, where Moses was the veritable father of his people, being truly outstanding in wisdom and in courage. Upon seizing Judea, Moses founded Jerusalem, built its Jerusalem temple, and instituted worship and ritual for the divinity. Moses further legislated a constitution for the people, dividing them into twelve tribes, and established the priesthood to oversee the Temple and adjudicate civil matters among the people. Moses is said to have waged wars against neighboring peoples and to have allocated the acquired land among the populace. Yet Hecataeus presents Moses in an unfavorable light through the manner in which he differed from others in matters such as marriage and burial laws, and the manner in which he instituted sacrifices. Nevertheless, this is tempered by Hecataeus’ remark that the Jews’ hatred toward strangers was occasioned by their expulsion from Egypt. In this respect, Hecataeus, like Theophrastus, attributes the unattractive traits of Jews not to their own making but to outside circumstances in which they stood powerless (Gager 1972: 26–37). Hecataeus’ account, originally part of his work on Egypt, likely draws material from Egyptian sources. It has been preserved, however, in the history of Diodorus Siculus, passed on in the Bibliotheca of the Byzantine scholar Photius. Two other passages preserved by Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.183–204; 2.43) are attributed to Hecataeus in a work entitled On the Jews. Some scholars (e.g. Bar-Kochva 1996: 188–89) attribute the citation to a Jewish forger rather than to Hecataeus. This theory, however, fails to resolve several issues raised by the extended account preserved by Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.183–204). Moreover, the fragment bears the hallmarks of a Hellenistic text, whether Jewish or not. Derogatory Accusations.  The overall empathetic and respectful position toward the Jews of ca. 300 bce did not withstand the passage of time. Mnaseas of Lycian Patara (ca. 200 bce) tells of an Idumean named Zabidus, who managed to steal a golden head of a pack-ass from the Jerusalem

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sanctuary, where it was allegedly venerated (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.112–114). Similarly, Apion, in a legend which Josephus says he borrowed from Posidonius and Apollonius Molon, claims that a golden ass’ head was in the Jerusalem Temple, where it was found by Antiochus IV Epiphanes (Ag. Ap. 2.79–80; cf. also Damocritus, De Iudaeis, preserved by Suidas [Jacoby 1923: III, C730, F1]; and Tacitus, Hist. 5.3.2–4.2). Plutarch, in the 2nd century ce, claimed that Jewish traditions were utilized in a myth about the Egyptian god Seth (= Typhon), who begot two children named Hierosolymus and Judaeus (Plutarch, Is. Os. 31). According to this Egyptian tradition, Seth is the god of evil deemed responsible for innumerable disasters such as death and disease and is depicted as an ass’ head. In light of Egyptian dislike of Jews, it is not surprising that they would identify the Jewish god with Seth. It seems plausible that the charge that Jews venerated an ass’ head in Jerusalem originates here. A somewhat different explanation is related by Diodorus Siculus, who recorded an account suggesting that Antiochus IV Epiphanes, on entering the innermost sacred precinct of the Temple, found there a statue of Moses riding on an ass, while holding in his hand a book, obviously the Law (Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca Historica 34–35.1.3–4). Greek tradition linked the Jerusalem Temple not only to ass worship but even to human sacrifice. Josephus picked up this accusation from Apion, whom he regarded as drawing from Posidonius and Apollonius Molon as sources (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.89, 91–96). According to this legend, Antiochus IV Epiphanes came upon a Greek within the Temple, who told of a Jewish custom of abducting a Greek, fattening him up for a year, and then sacrificing him in a wood/forest, partaking of his flesh and taking an oath of enmity toward the Greeks. Though this claim, unlike that of Theophrastus, identifies the victims as Greeks, Diodorus indicates that Jewish misanthropic and lawless customs were introduced by Moses (Bibliotheca Historica 34–35.1.3–4). In a similar text preserved by the 10th-century lexicographer Suidas, Damocritus treats Jewish human sacrifice together with ass worship, like Apion does. However, this text offers one substantial difference in that the intended victim is defined as a foreigner, and not necessarily a Greek (Schäfer 1997: 236 n. 193). Hence, Democritus may have intended to accuse Jews of general misanthropy, one that is not only directed at Greeks (cf. Bar-Kochva 2009: 259–63). Lysimachus focused on the crimes committed by the Jews against the native population of Judea. These crimes were reflected by the original name chosen for Jerusalem, Hierosyla, a designation that refers to the Jews’ practice of plundering the local temples (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.304–311). A partial list of writers in antiquity dealing with the exodus story includes three from Egypt: the Greek Chaeremon (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.288–92), the Greek (or Greco-Egyptian) Apion (Ag. Ap. 2.15–17, 20–21, 25, 28), and the Egyptian Manetho (Ag. Ap. 1.73–91, 228– 52). They all exemplify the particular interests of natives of Egypt on this subject. Roman authors such as Pompeius Trogus (in Justin’s Epitomy of Trogus’ Philippic Histories 36.1.9– 3.9) and Tacitus (Hist. 5.1–13) also wrote on the exodus, utilizing Greek sources that were at their disposal. Naturally, Greek historians also wrote on those customs of the Jews which seemed peculiar to them, such as the abstention from work on the Sabbath and the practice of circumcision. The nature of the Jews as philosophers and the question of the making of the Jewish people, both in

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Egypt and in Judea, were issues that were mainly dealt with in the Hellenistic period and in the early Roman era.

Bibliography B. Bar-Kochva, The Image of the Jews in Greek Literature: The Hellenistic Period (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009). B. Bar-Kochva, Pseudo-Hecataeus on the Jews: Legitimizing the Jewish Diaspora (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996). DOV GERA

Related entries: Chaeremon of Alexandria; Diet in Palestine; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Lysimachus of Alexandria; Mnaseas of Patara; Sacrifices and Offerings.

Greek Philosophy While there were Greek philosophers prior to him, Socrates (ca. 469–399 bce) marked a watershed in the history of Greek philosophy. Since Socrates himself wrote nothing, what is known of him comes through his disciples, especially Plato (ca. 429–347 bce). After his death a number of philosophical schools developed, and many of them claimed descent from him: Platonism, Aristotelianism, Stoicism, Epicureanism, Skepticism, and others. Greek philosophy began to have an influence on Judaism in the wake of Alexander the Great’s conquests of the eastern Mediterranean and Middle Eastern worlds (333–323 bce). This influence affected educated Jews living not only outside of Palestine, such as in Alexandria, but also those in Palestine itself. The philosophical schools of thought most relevant to Judaism are Stoicism, Epicureanism, and the 1st-century revival of Platonism called “Middle Platonism.” The founder of Stoicism was Zeno of Citium (ca. 335–263 bce), and the most important successor to Zeno in Early Stoicism was Chrysippus (ca. 280–207 bce). Stoicism divided philosophy into three parts: logic, physics, and ethics. Regarding the first of these, the Stoics, beginning with Chrysippus, did much to develop propositional logic. In physics they saw reality as entirely made up of matter, but matter of different sorts. The material world was held together and ordered by a fine material substance called by them “reason” (logos). This reason permeated reality and gave it unity and intelligibility. This unity and intelligibility was called “nature.” The goal of human beings was to live according to nature, which in the case of human beings was identified with reason. In ethics the Early Stoics held that virtue was all-important. For them, virtue was a matter of knowing correctly. It also involved the extirpation of the passions. A person was either completely virtuous or not virtuous at all. In Middle Stoicism this stringent standard was modified so as to allow a certain gradation of virtuous actions. In addition, this later Stoicism absorbed elements of the Platonic and Aristotelian schools, becoming the dominant philosophical school by the 1st century bce. Although not agreeing with its materialism and its lack of a transcendent God, Hellenistic Jewish writers such as the authors of the Letter of Aristeas, the Wisdom of Solomon, and 4 Maccabees, as well as Philo of Alexandria, were all significantly influenced by Stoicism, especially its ethics. For example, in De opificio mundi 3 Philo describes how the observance of the Mosaic law enables people to live in accord with nature, a typical Stoic formulation (cf. further Let. Aris.143–45; 4 Macc 1:1–9). 310

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The founder of Epicureanism was Epicurus of Samos (ca. 342–270). This school of philosophy had more cohesion over time than did other schools of Greek philosophy. The primary interest of Epicureanism was in the area of ethics; both epistemology and physics were seen primarily in relation to ethics. Knowledge came through sense-perception, preconceptions, and emotions. These were always true; error arose from false judgments made on their basis. The world was composed of atoms and the void, and the present state of the world was the result of the collisions between these atoms caused by an original swerve of atoms. The gods too were made up of fine atoms and lived in perfect tranquility and had nothing to do with humanity. There was thus no need to fear or worship them. Nor was there any need to fear death, which was simply the dissolution of a body’s atoms and an end to perception. At the level of ethics, the goal of human life was pleasure, but pleasure as the absence of pain and the presence of tranquility of soul and health of body. Epicureanism was opposed and often caricatured by other schools of philosophy for its lack of teleology, for its denial of any role for the gods and so of providence in human affairs, and for its supposed hedonism. For these same reasons it was also rejected by Jewish writers such as the author of 4 Maccabees and Philo of Alexandria: in De opificio muni 171 Philo rejects the Epicurean view that there is no providence, and 4 Maccabees 1:20–25 rejects an Epicurean positive evaluation of pleasure. Within a generation or two after the death of Plato in 347 bce, the Platonic school (called the Academy) became skeptical, drawing on Plato’s early aporetic dialogues. This trend continued into the 1st century bce. Although its origins are obscure, beginning with the figure of Eudorus of Alexandria (flor. 30 bce), the Platonic tradition reappropriated and reinterpreted other dialogues of Plato, especially the Timaeus (Bonazzi 2007: 365–77). This “Middle Platonism” reintroduced a strong idea of transcendence. Given the utter transcendence of the highest reality, they also held that there was an intermediate realm where one found the principles or ideas that were the basis of a third realm, that of matter. Middle Platonism, unlike Stoicism, was a dualism rather than a monism. In the area of ethics, Middle Platonism held that the passions were to be moderated and controlled by reason rather than extirpated as the Stoics held. In addition, the goal of ethical living became “likeness to God.” This early Middle Platonism influenced Jewish writers such as the author of the Wisdom of Solomon and especially Philo of Alexandria, who is one of the primary extant sources for the early stages of Middle Platonism. Philo’s view of the intermediate figure of the Logos (Opif. 15–35; Leg. 1.16–20) as the instrument of God’s creation and the location of the Platonic ideas is obviously rooted in early Middle Platonism. Middle Platonic language about the “emanation” of wisdom from God is found in Wisdom of Solomon 7:21–27, esp. 25–26. In ethics Philo saw its goals as “likeness to God” (Fug. 161), and the moderation of the passions (Svebakken 2012: 33–80).

Bibliography M. Bonazzi, “Eudorus of Alexandria and Early Imperial Platonism,” in Greek and Roman Philosophy 100 BC—200 AD, ed. R. Sorabji and R. W. Sharples. 2 vols., BICSSup 94 (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 2007), 365–77. A. A. Long, Hellenistic Philosophy: Stoics, Epicureans, Sceptics, 2nd ed. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986). H. Svebakken, Philo of Alexandria’s Exposition of the Tenth Commandment, SPhiloM 6 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012). THOMAS H. TOBIN

Related entries: Aristotle; Greek Religions; Hellenism and Hellenization; Logos; Maccabees, Fourth Book of. 311

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Greek Religions Introduction and Characteristics.  Every local Greek community in the ancient world had its own pantheon and cults. In addition to this so-called polis–religion, there were other religious phenomena, whether personal, (supra-)local, or even panhellenic (Potter 2009). Despite the different levels of religiosity and large number of known religious activities in the ancient world, it remains possible to speak of Greek religion in the singular, if looked on a structural level. This is a helpful construct, if one asks which characteristics Greek religion shared with religions around the Mediterranean and the Near East, whether through common origins or extensive contact, and which set it apart. In terms of belief, several facets stand out. First, Greek religion was fundamentalist. No aspect of life stood apart from religion as secular. Nevertheless, certain times of the year and parts of space would be set apart as particularly dedicated to the supernatural. Greek religions had festivals and sanctuaries. These were the preserve of the supernatural, bounded in time and space, with concomitant ideas about pollution and purity, and the discrimination between male and female, insider and outsider, slave and free. The fundamentalist nature of Greek religion implied that dances, plays, competitions, and meals, all part of religious events, were not superfluous or out of the ordinary but rather formed an integral part of festivals and religious life in general and belonged in sanctuaries (Naerebout 1997: 291–410). Second, Greek religion was polytheistic. It recognized greater and lesser gods, in addition to other supernatural beings, and it deified humans, so-called heroes. The enactment of cultic ritual was concerned with communicating with this supernatural world. Animal and other kinds of sacrifice and gift-giving in general, accompanied by prayer, were meant to establish a reciprocal relationship between god and humans. Other, more direct forms of communication included stories and claims about the gods appearing to human beings in their anthropomorphic or animal shape, as well as about the gods sending signs, invited or uninvited, which divination recognized and interpreted. Third, there was no orthodoxy, and hardly any doctrine at all. Belief was personal, and heresy or apostasy impossible—only sacrilege might be punished. Religion was only minimally involved in issues of morality; only some basic moral tenets were deemed as sanctioned by the gods. The gods themselves, as immortals, tended to be amoral. Morality was seen as the responsibility of mortals who have to make the best of their time on earth and to secure as pleasant an afterlife as possible. Developments during the Hellenistic Period.  With Alexander the Great’s conquests, which created a Greek political presence from Greece in the west all the way to Pakistan, Greek religion(s) underwent huge changes (Noegel 2007a). The broadening horizons, the increased connectivity across a multicultural world brought with it an enlarged religious repertoire, not only in the newly conquered lands but also in the homeland. In particular, Egyptian gods became popular, and Syrian and other gods also attracted Greek worshipers. Syncretistic tendencies led to the assimilation of Greek and non-Greek gods. Nothing of this development during the centuries leading up to the Common Era was without precedent. Non-Greek gods had been accepted into the Greek world previously. There was much continuity with the ancient past: the appeal of the “old gods” appears to be undiminished; indeed, their cults persisted and became even grander. It is the gods themselves who seem to

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have changed. While ancient Near Eastern influences continued (Noegel 2007b), they became more manifest: epiphanies and divine visions in dreams increased in number. Gods were seen to perform miracles, effect cures, and otherwise save humans who put their trust in them, with an unprecedented intensity. The flourishing of the ruler cult during this period might be another instance of this phenomenon. Hellenistic monarchs could be considered gods, with their cult an expression of their real power and of their subjects’ dependency upon them (Versnel 2011: 439–92). Although hero cults demonstrated that there was no watershed between the human and the divine, the establishment of a cult for a living ruler was innovative. Nevertheless, the ruler cult did not replace traditional religion; instead, it added a set of new, mortal gods set alongside the old ones (Chaniotis 2009). “Henotheism” belonged in this same context (Potter 2009: 423–24). A henotheist claims a special relationship with a single god, without denying the existence of or even religious activities directed at other gods. This attitude involved a personal union, with the believer as subject, servant, or even slave of the god; in sociopolitical terms, it reflected a world in which monarchies had replaced independent city-states and in which local elites were gaining more power. Henotheism involved making a choice. Initiatory cults (so-called mystery cults) had always been a matter of choice, but their enormous proliferation in this period seems to show that choosing became more important. Henotheism and mystery cults, however, were not stepping stones toward monotheism (Versnel 2011: 280–308). Encounter with Judaism.  Greeks were confronted with Jews, and the Jews were confronted with the two Greek monarchies of the Seleucids and the Ptolemies, who battled for control of the land bridge between Eurasia and Africa. Jewish monotheism (as well as Zoroastrian dualism) stood out as different. Though some Greek philosophers entertained ideas that came close to monotheism and were interested in Jewish beliefs, most Greeks were unaware of such thought, or would have rejected it. Jewish monotheism was thus essentially in conflict with Greek religion, not least with the ruler cult, while those who lived in the open Greek system could not understand why anyone would carry the issue regarding the number of gods to extremes. Greek religions formed an attractive alternative to Jewish monotheism. The Jewish revolts that began with the Maccabees in the 2nd century bce and ended with the Jewish wars in the 1st and 2nd centuries ce were not only reactions against pagan authorities that were insufficiently aware of the specific nature of Jewish religion but also an attempt to rescue Jewish religion from those Jews who were too prepared to compromise a more exclusive form of religiosity with the Greek religion so prevalent around them.

Bibliography A. Chaniotis, “The Divinity of Hellenistic Rulers,” in The Black Companion to the Hellenistic World (2009), 431–46. F. G. Naerebout, Attractive Performances: Ancient Greek Dance (Leiden: Gieben, 1997). S. B. Noegel, “Greek Religion and the Ancient near East,” in A Companion to Greek Religion, ed. D. Ogden, BCAW (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007a), 21–38. S. B. Noegel, Nocturnal Ciphers: The Allusive Language of Dreams in the Ancient near East, AOS 89 (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 2007b).

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D. Potter, “Hellenistic Religion,” in The Blackwell Companion to the Hellenistic World (2009), 407–30. H. S. Versnel, Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology, RGRL 173 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). FREDERICK NAEREBOUT

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Conversion and Proselytism; Greece and the Aegean; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Idols and Images; Mystery Religion, Judaism as; Worship.

Gymnasium In ancient Greek culture, gymnasia were buildings that served for the training of athletes. Beyond this specific use, they often functioned as places for socializing. The term gymnos (γυμνός) means “naked” and refers to the traditional way that Greeks exercised. The presence of a gymnasium in Jerusalem during the Second Temple period is known only through literary sources (1 Macc 1:14; 2 Macc 4; 4 Macc 4:20; Josephus, Ant. 12.241). Its construction in Hellenistic Jerusalem by the high priest Jason is depicted in Jewish sources, and especially in 2 Maccabees (4:7–17), as a traumatic event. It is thought to have initiated the “Hellenistic reform,” led to the Syrian occupation of the Acra of Jerusalem, and prompted the desecration of the Jerusalem Temple by Antiochus IV Epiphanes. The problem was not remedied until the revolt led by the Maccabees and the purification of the Temple in 164 bce by Judas Maccabeus (Bickerman 1979). This traditional reconstruction has been challenged by Honigman (2014), who reinterprets 2 Maccabees in such a way as to refute Bickerman’s thesis that Ptolemic and Seleucid parties existed in Judea. Furthermore, she denies that there were social and cultural differences between the Maccabees and the hellenizers. For Honigman, the establishment of the gymnasium in Jerusalem must thus be taken as a figure of speech (synecdoche) mentioned to reflect the economic consequences of Jason’s political reform, which was concerned with taxation for the king and land distribution for Greek settlers. A recent study (Cotton and Wörrle 2007) of epigraphic correspondence between King Seleucus IV and his official Heliodorus further exemplifies the dealings between local communities and Hellenistic kings, suggesting that Jason’s request to build a Greek gymnasium was a far less unique event than 2 Maccabees would suggest. There are many parallels in the administrative practice of the Hellenistic Near East, where local cities erected gymnasia to obtain favor and economic privileges from the king. This interpretation may explain why the gymnasium at Jerusalem is nowhere said to have been destroyed after the purification of the Jerusalem Temple, not even when the Hasmoneans achieved religious and political independence from Syria.

Bibliography See General Bibliography LIVIA CAPPONI

Related entries: Athletics; Entertainment Structures; Hellenism and Hellenization; Maccabees, Second Book of; Purification and Purity; Revolt, Maccabean; Seleucids.

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Hasidim The existence of a group called “the Hasidim” is based upon three references in 1 and 2 Maccabees (Kampen 1988; Davies 1977). The Greek transliteration, Asidaioi (Ασιδαῖοι), often transliterated as Hasideans in English, is based upon the Hebrew Ḥasidim (‫)חסידים‬, assuming an original Hebrew text which was translated into Greek, or less likely its Aramaic form, Ḥasidayyaʾ (‫)חסידיא‬. The first appearance of the term in 1 Maccabees 2:42 has been the most significant in the debates concerning the history and nature of this group. They are described as a synagōgē (company) of mighty men (or warriors) who “volunteered for the law.” They united with Mattathias, the priestly patriarch of the Hasmonean family, and other fugitives to form an army. This force then struck down the lawless and sinners within Israel who fled to the gentiles for safety. Very influential has been the thesis of Hengel, who found within this group the origins of both the Essenes and the Pharisees as well as the authors of apocalyptic literature such as the Book of Daniel (Hengel 1974: 175–254). He identified the Hasidim of 2:42 with those Judeans described in 1 Maccabees 2:29 who fled to the desert in their quest for righteousness and justice (see also Mittmann-Richert 2000). The king’s forces and their allies corner these dissenters and attack them on the sabbath when they will not take up arms to resist. The Hasidim are the survivors of this attack who unite with Mattathias. A significant textual variant of 2:42 uses the term hosioi (ὅσιοι, “pious ones”) rather than Asidaioi. Were “pious ones” the more original reading, it would not necessarily refer to the Hasidim. In 1 Maccabees 7:12–18 the Hasideans initially are described as a “company of scribes” who are “first among the Israelites.” They approached Alcimus and Bacchides, the appointees of Antiochus IV, in a trusting manner since they believed they could trust Alcimus as high priest. Alcimus, however, murdered 60 of them in their unprotected state. The Hasmoneans are portrayed as the leaders who understand the necessity for armed resistance while the Hasidim come off as gullible and inconsequential. For Hengel, this is the portrayal of a pious religious group that has no interest in political ventures. Simply adding to the heroic portrait of Judas Maccabeus, 2 Maccabees 14:6–10 has Alcimus charge Judas Maccabeus with being the leader of the Hasidim, the group responsible for stirring up rebellion (cf. 1 Macc 7:25). One is left with the portrait of a group that was of some importance during early developments of the Maccabean revolt, though the evidence is insufficient to determine its nature and significance. There is no clear literary basis for relating the Hasideans to the account in 1 Maccabees 2:29; hence, theses connecting them with the Essenes, the Pharisees, or apocalypticism have been called into question (cf. e.g. Davies 1977). There also is no reason to find references to this group in texts such as Psalm 149:1 (“assembly of the pious”) or Psalms of Solomon 17:16 (“company of the pious”). Likewise, the limited use of ḥasid in the fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls corpus does not assist in the identification of this group, and the rabbinic evidence does not point to the group attested in the books of the Maccabees. Nonetheless, the fact that the Hebrew name is transliterated rather than translated into Greek suggests that the name of the group was important in the eyes of the Maccabean historian, thereby pointing to the group’s significance. If only that same author had offered more details.

Bibliography P. R. Davies, “Hasidim in the Maccabean Period,” JJS 28 (1977): 127–40.

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J. Kampen, The Hasideans and the Origin of Pharisaism: A Study in 1 and 2 Maccabees, SCS 24 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988). JOHN I. KAMPEN

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Hasmonean Dynasty; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Military, Jews in the.

Hasmonean Dynasty The Hasmonean family led a war against the Seleucid empire during the 1st century bce to create an independent Jewish state (Josephus, J.W. 1.36; Ant. 11.111; 20.190, 238; Life 1.4; see Atkinson 2016). Commonly known as the Maccabees, their struggle is often called the Maccabean revolt (Atkinson 2016; Regev 2013: 12–25). However, the name “Maccabee” is actually a nickname given to its most famous member, Judas, for his prowess in battle (Regev 2013: 108–10). Although the Hasmoneans traced their lineage to the priestly course of Joarib, some scholars believe that they were Zadokites since the extant literature does not display any signs of Zadokite opposition to them (Regev 2013: 120–24). Nine Hasmoneans members of the family served as high priests from 152 to 35 bce (Atkinson 2016). The stories of the Hasmoneans are primarily found in 1 and 2 Maccabees and in the writings of Josephus (J.W. 1.31–53; Ant. 12.234–13.214). Several Second Temple period Jewish texts also contain sections that describe the Hasmonean dynasty (e.g. 1 En. 85–90; T. Mos.; 3 Macc; Pss. Sol.). The Hasmoneans came to prominence in approximately 167–166 bce when a priest named Mattathias defied the decree of the Seleucid monarch Antiochus IV Epiphanes banning the observance of Jewish law (1 Macc 1:16–64; 2 Macc 5–7; J.W. 1.34–35; Ant. 12.242–64). Mattathias and his five sons, Judas, Jonathan, Simon, Eleazar, and John, led a nearly 25-year rebellion against the Seleucid monarchs. After Mattathias’ death, his son Judas took over leadership of his father’s fledgling resistance movement and captured Jerusalem. In 164 bce he cleansed the Temple and restored the sacrifices (1 Macc 4:36–59; 2 Macc 10:1–8; Ant. 12.316–25). After Judas died in battle, his sibling Jonathan (161–43 bce) became the next leader (see Map 7: Hasmonean Rule [I] [160–103 bce]). Jonathan emphasized diplomacy and made treaties with the Seleucid rulers and the Roman Republic. He also backed the claim of the Seleucid pretender Alexander Balas in order to gain recognition of himself as high priest in Jerusalem (1 Macc 10:15–21). Another claimant for the Seleucid throne named Tryphon murdered Jonathan in 143–142 bce. Many scholars (cf. Dąbrowa 2010: 50–51; Regev 2013: 93–96) identify Jonathan as the “Wicked Priest” denounced in the Dead Sea Scrolls (1QpHab viii 8; ix 9; xi 4; xii 2, 8; 4Q171 1–10 iv 8; 4Q163 30; Callaway 1988: 135–71). Jonathan’s brother Simon (143–135 bce) was the last of Mattathias’ sons to lead his family’s movement (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 42–56; Regev 2013: 111–12). The extant sources recount some opposition to his rule, resistance which he appears to have overcome by his third year in office. In 142 bce Simon founded the Hasmonean state when he declared independence from Seleucid rule (1 Macc 13:33–42; Ant. 13.213–217). He then captured several important cities to expand his new nation. In 134 bce, Simon’s brother-in-law, Ptolemy, murdered him at Jericho in an ill-fated effort to seize power (1 Macc 16:14–16; J.W. 1.54; Ant. 13.228). Shortly afterward, Simon’s son, John Hyrcanus, became high priest and the second ruler of the Hasmonean state. 316

Hasmonean Dynasty

John Hyrcanus (135–104 bce) reigned for nearly 30 years. The Seleucid king Antiochus VII Sidetes besieged him in Jerusalem shortly after he took power (J.W. 1.61; Ant. 13.236– 48). The extant accounts differ as to how Hyrcanus survived (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 68–9). Sidetes subsequently compelled Hyrcanus to participate in his invasion of Parthia (Ant. 13.249–53). The death of Sidetes during this campaign allowed Hyrcanus to annex Syrian lands. Hyrcanus destroyed the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim and forcibly converted the Idumeans to Judaism (J.W. 1.64–65; Ant. 13.254–58, 275–83). After the Pharisees voiced opposition to his rule, Hyrcanus became a Sadducee (Ant. 13.293–98; Regev 2013: 155–60). He died in 104 bce. His son Judah Aristobulus succeeded him as high priest and ruler (J.W. 1.70; Ant. 13.301). Judah Aristobulus (104–103 bce) was the first Hasmonean to assume the title of king (J.W. 1.70; Ant. 13.301; contra Strabo, Geogr. 16.2.40; cf. Atkinson 2016). During his brief reign, he forcibly converted the Itureans to Judaism (Ant. 13.318–19). He faced considerable opposition from his own family, some of whom he murdered. He died of an illness one year after taking power. His brother, Alexander Jannaeus, took over his positions as high priest and king (J.W. 1.85; Ant. 13.320). Alexander Jannaeus (104/103–76 bce) fought numerous foreign wars to expand the Hasmonean state (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule [II] [103–63 bce]). He also subdued several rebellions against his rule. He crucified 800 of his enemies (J.W. 1.97; Ant. 13.380) who fought against him during an invasion of his realm by the Seleucid king Demetrius III (ca. 88 bce). Sometime later he was unable to stop the Seleucid monarch Antiochus XII Dionysus from overrunning his territory and causing much destruction (J.W. 1.99–100; Ant. 13.387–91). Before his death, Jannaeus chose his wife, Shelamzion Alexandra, as his political successor. In the Dead Sea Scrolls Janneus is called “the Lion of Wrath” (4Q167 ii 1–3; 4Q169 3–4 i 5–7). Shelamzion (Salome Alexandra) (76–67 bce) is the sole Hasmonean queen regnant (Atkinson 2016). She chose her eldest son, Hyrcanus II, to serve as high priest during her reign (J.W. 1.109; Ant. 13.408). Both supported the Pharisees (Atkinson 2016). Alexandra sent her youngest son, Aristobulus II, with her army to expel the Ituraean ruler Ptolemy, son of Mennaeus, from Damascus (J.W. 1.115; Ant. 13.418). She also tried to prevent the Armenian king Tigranes II from capturing the Seleucid queen Cleopatra Selene in Ptolemais (J.W. 1.116; Ant. 13.419–20). Before her death, Alexandra appointed Hyrcanus II as king and high priest (J.W. 1.120; Ant. 13.422–29), an act that led to subsequent conflict. In 67 bce, three months after Alexandra’s death, Aristobulus II removed Hyrcanus II from power (J.W. 1.120–22; Ant. 14.4–7; see Map 9: Decline of Hasmonean Rule and Roman Presence [63–43 bce]). Aristobulus II ruled as king and high priest until 63 bce when the Roman general Pompey captured him. The Romans reappointed Hyrcanus II high priest, but not as king (J.W. 1.153; Ant. 14.73). In 40 bce his nephew, Mattathias Antigonus, captured him with the assistance of the Parthians. Antigonus briefly ruled over Jerusalem as the last Hasmonean monarch. His 37 bce execution by the Romans ended any hope for a restoration of the Hasmonean state (J.W. 1.357; Ant. 14.488–90). Scholars are uncertain about the exact nature of the religious measures of Antiochus IV Epiphanes and the extent to which the early Hasmoneans actually fought a civil war against other Jews (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 13–23; Sievers 1990: 21–25). Although the sources portray them as opponents of Greek culture, the Hasmoneans were greatly influenced by Hellenism. They were skilled politicians and often made treaties with the Seleucid monarchs to retain power. 317

Healing

The Festival of Hanukkah still commemorates Judas’ rededication of the Temple (1 Macc 4:36–59). The Dead Sea Scrolls (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 98–102) reveal that the last Hasmonean rulers had many opponents who blamed them for the 63 bce Roman conquest of Judea (1QpHab; 4QpNah; see also Pss. Sol.). The Jewish king Herod the Great eventually replaced the Hasmoneans as king. To increase his legitimacy, he married Mariamne, the granddaughter of Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II (J.W. 1.240–41; Ant. 20.248).

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Crucifixion; Itureans; Jonathan the King Text; Josephus, Writings of; Sadducees; Samaritans; Simon.

Healing The Second Temple Jewish perspective on healing and illness was not uniform, and the range of Jewish views on such matters overlapped to a considerable extent with those of their pagan neighbors, except to the extent that (at least in surviving texts) Jewish views were generally shaped in a monotheistic framework. Illness could come from God (as a punishment or possibly a test, as in Job) or from the activity of hostile spirits (whether acting on their own initiative or at the behest of magicians) or from natural causes (to the extent that some Jews accepted the tradition of “rational” Greek medicine). It would then be natural to suppose that healing would be accomplished through repentance and prayer (in the first case), exorcism or apotropaic procedures (in the second), or scientific medicine (in the third); while these means were all employed, the picture is not so neat. In common with the surrounding cultures, Jewish healing might involve a number of medical, magical, miraculous, religious, and traditional techniques that are not always readily distinguishable. For example, the employment of various herbs, roots, mineral, and animal substances could be regarded as medicinal, magical, or traditional (folk-medicinal) depending on the context and the way in which their use was understood by the people concerned. Different attitudes are displayed by different writers. Thus, e.g., parts of 1 Enoch regard the cutting of roots as a forbidden art taught by the Watchers (1 En. 7:1; 8:3; Chrysovergi 2011: 46–95), while Jubilees portrays similar healing techniques as having been taught to Noah so that he could protect his descendants from demonic depredations (Jub. 10:10–14; Chrysovergi 2011: 213–34). Tobit appears to prefer traditional medical-magical cures, involving the innards of fish, to the efforts of professional physicians (Tob 2:10; 6:1–8; 8:1–4; 11:7–13; Chrysovergi 2011: 115–58; Eve 2002: 218–32), while Ben Sira and Philo both welcome physicians as the skilled professionals through whom God normally works to bring about healing, although in so doing they both subordinate scientific medicine to God and thereby legitimate it (Sir 38:1–15; Leg. 3.178; Chrysovergi 2011: 167–202; Eve 2002: 79–80, 107–8). Josephus quite often mentions substances used in healing (e.g. J.W. 1.657; 4.468, 481; 7.180–5) and notes that these were a particular interest of the Essenes (J.W. 2.136; Taylor 2009: 228–31, 234–38). He also presents exorcism as a magical-medical technique handed down from Solomon, while legitimating it through stating that Solomon’s wisdom (which such techniques exemplify) was ultimately from 318

Heaven

God (Ant. 8.45–49; Eve 2002: 339–41). The surviving texts, however, reveal next to nothing about the healing techniques available to ordinary people, whose concerns are largely ignored by elite writers. It is likely that they would have had recourse to traditional folk-medicine and specialist folk-healers (Eve 2002: 350–60), but the details are largely lost to us. Second Temple interest in miraculous healing is slight apart from the New Testament and references to the healing miracles of ancient prophets like Elijah and Elisha (Eve 2002: 253–55). The frequent connection of sickness with sin points to the fact that healing was often viewed holistically, or at least metaphorically, as referring to the restoration of well-being (shalom) in all dimensions of life, and not just physical health. Philo, e.g., regarded spiritual healing (turning away from sin) as more important than physical (Contempl. 2; Sacr. 70), and Ben Sira criticized those who consulted physicians without praying to God (Sir. 38:9–14). Already in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Ps 146:7–8; Isa 29:18–21; Ezek 37:1–14; Hos 6:1–3) and probably in texts such as Jubilees (Jub. 23:29–30; Chrysovergi 2011: 240–46) and 4Q521, healing appears as a metaphor for national restoration and Israel’s return to full obedience to God (Eve 2002: 189–96). In Isaiah the healing of blindness and deafness often refers to the regaining of spiritual perception, an idea that is carried over into the New Testament and was no doubt prevalent elsewhere.

Bibliography M. Chrysovergi, “Attitudes towards the Use of Medicine in Jewish Literature from the Third and Second Centuries BCE” (Durham PhD thesis, Durham University, 2011). J. E. Taylor, “‘Roots, Remedies and Properties of Stones’: The Essenes, Qumran and Dead Sea Pharmacology,” JJS 60 (2009): 226–44. ERIC EVE

Related entries: Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Demons and Exorcism; Disability; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Magic and Divination; Medicine and Hygiene; Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521); Miracles and Miracle Workers; Penitential Prayer; Philo of Alexandria; Purification and Purity; Sickness and Disease.

Heaven Following the destruction of the First Temple in 587 bce, the notion of “heaven” grows in importance within Israel’s and Judaism’s religious system of symbols. This development that arose as the idea of the divine presence in the sanctuary was decisively modified: according to Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the Jerusalem Temple in 1 Kings 8:22–61, God’s dwelling place is in heaven (vv. 30, 39, 43, 49); by contrast, the earthly Temple serves as a place of prayer (e.g. v. 30) or as a place toward which people pray (e.g. vv. 29, 38; cf. Ps 103:19). The distance between heaven and earth is overcome by the notion of God watching humanity, symbolizing God’s love and care (Pss 102:20–23; 113:6–9; Isa 66:1–2; cf. Ego 1998). Furthermore, statements on YHWH’s acts of creation can be found in the postexilic period—probably to analyze and cope with the crisis of exile and also serving a polemical-apologetical function. These statements include heaven and earth (Gen 1:1–31; Isa 40:22), with particular reference to the creation of heavenly bodies (Gen 1:14–16; Isa 40:26; Jer 31:35; Pss 74:16; 148:3–6; Job 9:7). The Astronomical Book (1 En. 72–82) from the 3rd century bce contains detailed cosmological descriptions on the movement of heavenly bodies. In contrast to texts in the Hebrew Bible such as Genesis 28:17, Amos 9:5–6, and Psalm 104:3, which refer only allusively to the heavenly sanctuary, literature from the Hellenistic 319

Heaven

period now explicitly refers to the notion of the heavenly sanctuary, such as in the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36) and the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q400–407; 11Q17; Mas1k; cf. Newsom 2000). Whereas the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice primarily describe praises of God in the heavenly liturgy (see also Hodayot) and do not expressly speculate on the structure of heaven (Newsom 2000: 339), the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36) contains the whole description of the heavenly world and heavenly events under the signs of God’s judgment (1 En. 14:9–25; cf. also Dan 7). Enoch comes before the throne of God in the heavenly sanctuary to receive God’s judgment on the sinful watcher angels. The notion of a temporary visionary heavenly journey of the righteous also becomes apparent (1 En. 14–16; Ego 2007). A glance at pseudepigraphal literature shows that notions of heaven were becoming increasingly differentiated and systemized during the late literature of the Hellenistic period, with different celestial spheres being distinguished from each other. Whereas the Book of the Watchers and the Book of Parables (1 En. 37–69) assume a “single-stage” heaven, 1 Enoch 70–71, an annex to the Book of Parables, distinguishes a two-stage heaven (cf. also T. Levi 2:7–8). The Testament of Levi 3:1–10 and the Apocalypse of Abraham 19:4, 7, on the one hand, describe seven heavens in their current form (Bietenhard 1951: 3–6, 11), a system that is likewise reflected in the Ascension of Isaiah (chs. 6–11). Paul, on the other hand, may have presupposed a three-tiered structure when referring to a previous out-of-body experience, though it remains unclear how “the third heaven” in his account is different from or the same as the “paradise” (2 Cor 12:2–4; Yarbro Collins 1996: 21–54). Even if science issues in the broadest sense are of interest—as, e.g., is the case with the Astronomical Book of 1 Enoch—the primary concern is theological: the main focus is the legitimation of concrete earthly requirements in the context of a religious system of symbols. Structures of meaning and order are, in effect, ontologized due to their integration into a worldview that lends them a definitive authority. Thus obedience to God is derived in 1 Enoch 2–4 from “observations” of natural phenomena, including heavenly bodies. In addition, the 364day structure of the calendar given in the Astronomical Enoch is conveyed as a revelation of the angel Uriel in order to render all other calendrical systems invalid, as they do not correspond to the divine order of creation (cf. 1 En. 72:1 and chs. 80–82). With regard to the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, it can be ascertained in this context that the praying community is granted special dignity because the knowledge of heavenly secrets articulated in the songs qualifies them as being “wise” and “knowing.” The notion of God as a judge on his throne (1 En. 14–16; Dan 7) emphasizes God’s power. Statements about heaven can therefore be classified as “conceptual images” that can be used to make statements about God’s nature and work. The oneness of God, his glory, his judicial power—these different aspects of the notion of God are expressed using the illustration of heaven presented here, giving them a vivid shape and reification (Ego 2005). Finally, without including speculative interests, the emphasis throughout the Gospel of Matthew on “heaven,” more so than any other writing in the New Testament, serves to highlight the essential difference between the sphere of God’s rule and earth and so underscores the hope for an eschatological resolution of this tension (Pennington 2007).

Bibliography H. Bietenhard, Die himmlische Welt im Spätjudentum und Urchristentum, WUNT 2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1951). 320

Hebrew

B. Ego, “Der Herr blickt herab von der Höhe seines Heiligtums—Gottes himmlisches Thronen in alttestamentlichen Texten aus exilisch-nachexilischer Zeit,” ZAW 110 (1998): 556–69. B. Ego, “Denkbilder für Gottes Einzigkeit, Herrlichkeit und Richtermacht—Himmelsvorstellungen im Antiken Judentum,” in Der Himmel, ed. M. Ebner, D. Sattler and S. Vollenweider, JBT 25 (Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2005), 151–88. B. Ego, “Henochs Reise vor den Thron Gottes (1Hen 14,8–16,4): Zur Funktion des Motivs der Himmelsreise im ‘Wächterbuch’ (1Hen 1–36),” in Apokalyptik und Qumran, ed. J. Frey and M. Becker, Einblicke 10 (Paderborn: Bonifatius, 2007), 105–22. C. Newsom, “Heaven,” EDSS (2000), 2:338–40. J. T. Pennington, Heaven and Earth in the Gospel of Matthew, NTSup 126 (Leiden: Brill, 2007). A. Yarbro Collins, Cosmology and Eschatology in Jewish and Christian Apocalypticism, JSJSup 50 (Leiden: Brill, 1996). BEATE EGO

Related entries: Death and Afterlife; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Garden of Eden—Paradise; Grace (Ḥesed).

Heavenly Beings—see Angels (pt 4) Hebrew The Second Temple period was a watershed for the development of the Hebrew language. It gave birth to what would become Mishnaic Hebrew and, at the same time, marked the end of the common production of Classical (Biblical) Hebrew. Not a little controversy has surrounded discussions on the role the language played and the extent of its use during this period. Language Register.  Postexilic text in the Hebrew Bible and most of the texts associated with Qumran are written in an apparently “high” or literary register of language. High registers (cf. Baltes 2014: 59) typically develop in languages as the spoken language grows apart from an older dialect while the older dialect remains in use for more formal functions in society and/ or for writing. The distinctions of Mishnaic Hebrew are best viewed as a low-register, spokenlanguage development, even though the evidence is written (Segal 1908). Features of Mishnaic Hebrew can be observed occasionally in the Bible (apparently attesting to the existence of a spoken register) and in documents like the Qumran Copper Scroll (which includes final-nun instead of the final-mem plurals and Greek loan words) and the Bar Kokhba letters. Thus, Mishnaic Hebrew reflects on the Hebrew being used at the end of the Second Temple period in two broad registers, a high, formal register, and a low, spoken register. There are indications that works like 1 Maccabees, and perhaps a presumed Jerusalem source to Papias’ Hebrew Gospel, were in a high-register Hebrew (Buth 2014a). After Bar Kokhba, Mishnaic Hebrew gradually lost its position as a low register and in the 3rd century ce became a new high-register in a bilingual diglossia with Aramaic (Bar-Asher 1999: 116). Sociological Influences on the Development of Hebrew. Jews returning from Babylon introduced widespread bilingualism with Hebrew and Aramaic. Aramaic was the language of government under the Persians. The Hebrew Bible includes chapters in Aramaic in Book of Daniel and Ezra. In addition, Ezra 10:14–44 and Nehemiah 13:16–24 record influences from 321

Hebrew

Tyre (Phoenicia) and intermarriage with women from surrounding languages/dialects like Ashdodite (probably Phoenician?) and Ammonite. After the conquests of Alexander the Great, Greek became the international language, a major cultural influence (1 Macc 1:13–15), and eventually a linguistic influence. Both Greek and Latin loanwords are widely attested in rabbinic literature, and Greek influence can be observed in spelling in the Bar Kokhba letters. Moreover, increased sensitivity to grammatical aspect in mishnaic writings may have been enhanced by Greek. Language Traits: Spelling and Phonology.  Distinctive spellings are attested for Second Temple Hebrew texts (Andersen and Forbes 1986; Forbes and Andersen 2012) as, e.g., the spelling of ‫( דויד‬dwyd) with a yod. These are continued in the Qumran writings, which otherwise retain and extend spelling in the Hebrew Bible. It was probably during the Second Temple period that the begedkefet phenomena (sub-phonemic stop and fricative pronunciations of b-d-g-k-p-t) entered the Hebrew language from Aramaic. The writing of the “definite accusative marker” ‫( את‬ʾt) as a prefix surprised scholars in seven examples in the Bar Kokhba letters (e.g. ‫תשמים‬, tšmym for ‫את השמים‬, ʾt hšmym). Although this spelling is attested in contemporary Phoenician/Punic documents, it is remarkable because it testifies to a phenomenon known today in rapid Israeli speech. It documents spoken usage. If anyone had learned Hebrew in a school in the 1st and 2nd centuries ce, they would have learned to write ‫( את‬ʾt) as a separate word. Language Traits: Morphology and Syntax. Final nunation, instead of the traditional finalmem, previously attested in Moabite and apparently northern Israelite Hebrew (cf. ‫מִדִּ ין‬, middin “cloth” Jud 5:10; similarly, 13 examples of ‫ ִמלִין‬, millin “words” in Job), spread during the Second Temple period in low registers of Hebrew, a phenomenon reinforced by widespread bilingualism with Aramaic. Mishnaic Hebrew even records forms like ‫( אדן‬ʾdn) for ‫( אדם‬ʾdm) “man” (Codex Kaufman lists 31 ‫ אדן‬out of 319 occurrences of ‫)אדם‬. Also, words like Biblical Hebrew ‫פשתה‬ (pšth) “flax” became ‫( פשתן‬pštn) in Mishnaic Hebrew, ‫( למטה‬lmṭh) “downward” became ‫למטן‬ (lmṭn), ‫( הלאה‬hlʾh) “onward” became ‫( להלן‬lhln). Another northern trait, ‫( ש‬š-) for ‫( אשר‬ʾšr) “that, which,” also spread in low-register Hebrew. Mishnaic Hebrew shows the development of new verbal morphology in the spoken register with a binyan pattern ‫( נתפעל‬called nitpaʿel). Attestation of noun patterns multiplied in comparison to those found in older Hebrew texts. The cohortative ending “-ah” dropped out of use in low-register Hebrew. The most obvious and far-reaching syntactic change during the Second Temple period is the demise of the thematic verb system in the low register of Hebrew (Cohen 2012). The wayyiqtol and we-qatal thematic verbs disappeared from the low registers, as is attested by Mishnaic Hebrew. The use of such characteristic phrases as (‫ עשה‬:‫ויעש (או‬... ‫( ויהי כעשות‬wywy kʾśwt…wyʿś [ʾw: ʿśh]) “and it happened in doing … and he did (or: he did)” likewise dropped out of the spoken register, which allows researchers to attribute the Hebrew source behind 1 Macabbees to high-register Hebrew with some confidence. An extreme example of mishnaic verbal syntax appearing in Biblical Hebrew occurs in the book of Qohelet (Ecclesiastes), the composition of which is generally attributed to the Second Temple period. In Qohelet the mishnaic use of “and” plus a simple qatal verb is ubiquitous (38 examples). The later Masoretes recorded and accented these verbs according to mishnaic syntax. 322

Hebrew

Some syntactic phenomena are difficult to evaluate. For example, the use of the infinitive absolute as a replacement for a finite verb appears to have increased during the Second Temple period. The Qumran text of Hebrew Tobit (4Q200) has five examples of this. However, the structure was already known in First Temple period Hebrew and Phoenician. First Temple Hebrew versus Second Temple Hebrew (High-Register). The distinctions in Hebrew between the First and Second Temple periods have played a role in biblical criticism in recent decades. Hurvitz (1974, 2000; cf. 2014), followed by Milgrom (1991) and others, have argued for the preexilic dating of the priestly material, contrary to a common attribution of the material to the postexilic times. On the other hand, a small group of scholars have argued that the differences between First and Second Temple Hebrew can be accounted for as genre and dialect distinctions (Young, Rezetko, Ehrensvaerd 2009). It would be fair to say that the majority position is that the linguistic distinctions between First and Second Temple Hebrew remain valid for chronology (for an overview of the debate, see Miller-Naudé and Zevit 2012: esp. 3–15). Rabbinic Teaching at the End of the Second Temple.  Tannaitic texts and sayings attributed to tannaitic rabbis seem to favor Hebrew as the primary language of instruction (for an example of complications with Aramaic and Hebrew in the Gospels, see Buth 2014b). The rabbis’ use of language has been variously explained as representing a practice for establishing halakah or more broadly as reflecting a colloquial language for in-culture discussions. A fact only occasionally mentioned in studies dealing with 1st-century language use is that all rabbinic story parables are preserved in a low-register Hebrew (Segal, 1927: 4), despite rabbinic literature using both Hebrew and Aramaic elsewhere (cf. Bendavid 1967–1971).

Bibliography F. I. Andersen and A. D. Forbes, Spelling in the Hebrew Bible (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute Press, 1986). G. Baltes, “The Use of Hebrew and Aramaic in Epigraphic Sources of the New Testament Era,” in Language Environment (2014), 35–65. M. Bar-Asher, “Mishnaic Hebrew: An Introductory Study,” Hebrew Studies 40 (1999): 115–51. A. Bendavid, “‫[ לשון מקרא ולשון חכמים‬The Language of the Bible and the Language of the Sages],” 2 vols., 2nd ed. (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1967–1971). R. Buth, “Distinguishing Hebrew from Aramaic in Semitized Greek Texts, with an Application for the Gospels and Pseudepigrapha,” Language Environment (2014a), 247–319. R. Buth, “The Riddle of Jesus’ Cry from the Cross: The Meaning of ηλι ηλι λαμα σαβαχθανι (Matthew 27:46) and the Literary Function of ελωι ελωι λειμα σαβαχθανι (Mark 15:34),” Language Environment (2014b), 395–422. O. Cohen, The Verbal Tense System in Late Biblical Hebrew Prose, HSS 63 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013). A. D. Forbes and F. I. Andersen, “Dwelling on Spelling,” in Diachrony in Biblical Hebrew, ed. C. L. Miller-Naudé and Z. Zevit (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012), 127–45. A. Hurvitz, “The Evidence of Language in Dating the Priestly Code,” RevB 81 (1974): 24–56. A. Hurvitz, “Once Again: The Linguistic Profile of the Priestly Material in the Pentateuch and its Historical Age. A Response to J. Blenkinsopp,” ZAW 112 (2000): 180–91. A. Hurvitz, A Concise Lexicon of Late Biblical Hebrew, Linguistic Innovations in the Writings of the Second Temple Period (Leiden: Brill, 2014).

323

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C. L. Miller-Naudé and Z. Zevit, eds., Diachrony in Biblical Hebrew (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2012). M. H. Segal, “Mishnaic Hebrew in Its Relation to Biblical Hebrew and to Aramaic,” JQR 20 (1908): 647–737. M. H. Segal, A Grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927). I. Young, R. Rezetko, and M. Ehrensvaerd, Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts, An Introduction to Approaches and Problems (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2009). RANDALL BUTH

Related entries: Literacy and Reading; Mishnah; Multilingualism; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Text Types, Hebrew; Writing.

Hecataeus of Abdera The fragmentary citations of the historian Hecataeus of Abdera, preserved in the writings of the 1st-century bce historian Diodorus Siculus, provide early evidence of non-Jewish attitudes and understandings of Jewish history, ritual, and political structure. Hecataeus was a contemporary of Alexander the Great and Ptolemy I (late 4th cent. bce) and so his work should be seen as an attempt to provide historical background and ethnographical analysis for the various peoples and nations conquered by Alexander and his successors. Hecataeus turns his attention to the Jews in Aegyptiaca, a work he composed on the history of Egypt. He claims a plague led the Egyptians to blame foreigners in their midst for the eclipse of their ancient religious practices. These foreign elements were expelled in two groups. The superior group were sent forth as colonizers and settled in Greece. The remaining individuals, following Moses, were expelled and settled in Jerusalem. The exodus of Jewish tradition is thus transformed into an expulsion. In both cases, however, Greek and Jewish civilizations are depicted as ultimately descended from ancient Egypt. Despite his claim that those who followed Moses out of Egypt were of lesser stock, Hecataeus is rather complimentary of Moses himself, whom he describes as “wise and brave.” Hecataeus provides an interesting mixture of accurate and erroneous material in his survey of the Jews. He highlights their opposition to the use of images in worship and further notes that the people are divided into twelve tribes. (He incorrectly asserts that this was at the order of Moses.) At the same time, he erroneously claims that Moses founded the city of Jerusalem and constructed the Temple therein. Research on Hecataeus has been concerned with reconstructing the sources for his knowledge of Judaism. It would be anachronistic to claim that he had access to some form of the stillemerging biblical texts. Broad knowledge, albeit incomplete or inaccurate, of a foundational cultural figure like Moses or an etiological tradition such as the exodus would be less surprising. In both cases, Hecataeus has clearly adapted these traditions to larger Hellenistic norms (what Erich Gruen [1998] terms an Interpretatio Graeca). He also tends to be more accurate with regard to the description (if not the interpretation) of those elements of Jewish practice which would have been the most obvious—and perhaps the most perplexing—to non-Jewish observers (e.g. aniconic worship and food regulations). A contested interpretive question concerns Hecataeus’ attitude toward the Jews (Feldman 1996: 46). He has been read as both hostile and positive. He certainly makes positive statements regarding Moses, even in the midst of his claim that the people expelled from Egypt and settled

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in Jerusalem were inferior to those who settled in Greece. At the same time he asserts that Moses encouraged the Jews to seclude themselves from others and to practice xenophobia. The latter charge may indicate less hostility toward Judaism and more an attempt to (mis)understand Jewish food regulations without the aid of a native informer. Works such as Pseudo-Aristeas provide ample evidence that Jewish food regulations were particularly visible and quizzical to the larger Hellenistic world. Hecataeus provided a more measured understanding of Judaism based on the sources at his disposal than did someone like the Egyptian historian Manetho. Both authors share the “exodus as expulsion” motif. Whereas for Manetho the expulsion of the Jews from Egypt serves as an opportunity to demean and vilify Judaism and Jews, for Hecataeus the expulsion motif represents an interpretation of Jewish exodus traditions in light of Greek notions of colonization.

Bibliography See General Bibliography PHILIP MICHAEL SHERMAN

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greece and the Aegean; Hecataeus, Pseudo-; Ptolemies.

Hecataeus, PseudoThe Jewish historian Josephus twice refers to works by the famed Greek historian and ethnographer, Hecataeus of Abdera. He briefly mentions a work entitled On Abraham in his multi-volume Jewish Antiquities 1.159. In the second and lengthier case, Josephus references a portion of a work entitled On the Jews. Origen provides an independent witness to the work in Against Celsus 1.15b. There were already arguments in antiquity that the work was incorrectly attributed to Hecataeus and that it was actually the work of a Jewish author claiming to be Hecataeus. The content of the material has led the vast majority of modern critical scholars to argue that the work does not derive from Hecataeus; hence the name Pseudo-Hecataeus is used to refer to the authorship of the works mentioned by Josephus (Bar-Kochva 2010: 5). Josephus references On the Jews in his polemical work, Against Apion, in which he attempts to demonstrate the antiquity and superiority of Judaism over against non-Jewish claims that the most ancient and culturally significant authors had never heard of Judaism. Since his goal was to defend Judaism as a religion and a philosophy against its hellenized, Egyptian cultural despisers, the image of Hecataeus of Abdera, a Greek historian from the time of Alexander the Great and Ptolemy I (c. 323 bce), provided cultural capital for Josephus’ argument. The fragment of On the Jews cited in Against Apion (1.183–204) explains how Jews came to reside in the land of Egypt, details and celebrates their zeal for destroying non-Jewish altars, and concludes with a narrative of Jewish mockery of non-Jewish forms of divination. The work is not believed to be the complete creation of Josephus. It is likely that he possessed an actual source, mistakenly believed to derive from Hecataeus. It remains unclear to what extent Josephus is quoting directly from his source or the degree to which he is simply summarizing it. The modern scholar Bezalel Bar-Kochva (2010) argues that Pseudo-Hecataeus’ work likely dates to around 193–107 bce and is an attempt to justify and celebrate the Jewish diaspora in Egypt, while

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demonstrating its cultural superiority to Egyptian culture and religion. Hecataeus would have been a figure of immense cultural and historical significance in Ptolemaic Egypt.

Bibliography B. Bar-Kochva, Pseudo Hecataeus, “On the Jews”: Legitmizing the Jewish Diaspora (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010). PHILIP MICHAEL SHERMAN

Related entries: Abraham; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Ptolemies.

Heliopolis Genesis records (41:45, 50) that Joseph married Aseneth, daughter of Potiphar priest of On, an Egyptian city identified in Greek as Heliopolis, “city of the sun” (see Map 2: Alexander the Great [ca. 334–323 bce]). Jews associated this center of sun-worship with its temples (cf. Jer 43:13) with their ancestors: Septuagint Exodus 1:11 states that Israelites built it, and Artapanus (Frag. 2.4) notes that in Joseph’s time Hebrews founded “the temple” in Heliopolis. From the 2nd century bce until ca. 73 ce, the city hosted a Jewish temple for whose origin, site, form, and history Josephus is the single contemporary witness, although rabbinic and patristic texts briefly mention it. Sibylline Oracles 5.493–511 and Joseph and Aseneth may assume its existence (Bohak 1996). Flinders Petrie believed that he had discovered its ruins at Tell el-Yahoudieh, but his claim has never been substantiated. Surviving epigraphic evidence detailing the presence of Jews in the Heliopolis area does not mention a Jewish temple (Modrzejewski 1995: 127). Josephus gives contradictory information about a Jewish temple in Heliopolis (Tcherikover 1970: 273–77). In Jewish War 1.31–33 and 7.420–436 its founder is named as Onias III, son of Simon (J.W. 7.423; cf. b. Menaḥ. 109b), who reigned ca. 190–175 bce. In Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities (12.387–388; 13.62), however, its builder is given as Onias IV, the son of Onias III (or his nephew, Ant. 20.236). It was like the Jerusalem Temple according to Jewish War 1.33 and Jewish Antiquities 12.388; 13.63, 67 (cf. also Jerome, Expl. Dan. III. XI. 14); but Jewish War 7.427–428 describes it as a tower of great stones 60 cubits high, housing not a seven-branched menorah but a single golden lamp on a chain, manifesting a brilliant blaze. Josephus’ report (J.W. 7.436) that it stood for 343 years places its foundation around 270 bce, which conflicts with repeated statements (J.W. 1.31; 7.423; Ant. 12.387; 13.62; 20.236) that its construction was approved by Ptolemy VI Philometor (180–145 bce) and his queen Cleopatra II (Ant. 12.387–388; 13.63; 20.236). While reiterating that it was situated in the nome of Heliopolis (J.W. 1.33; 7.426; Ant. 12.388; 13.65, 285; 20.236), Josephus quotes two letters placing it at Leontopolis (Ant. 13.65, 70). Some unravelling of these contradictions is possible. Josephus effectively begins and ends his Jewish War with this temple, a literary device illustrating his conviction that disputes among Jewish leaders caused the state’s downfall. Onias III’s career exemplifies these vices (J.W. 1.31–33; 7.431), and it serves Josephus’ rhetorical purposes to associate him with this alternative temple. However, 2 Maccabees 4:30–34 records Onias III’s murder around 171 bce,

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and the restoration of the name Onias as addressee in a papyrus letter from Egypt dated 21 September 164 bce (CPJ I, no. 132) is very probable. All this suggests that the temple’s builder was Onias IV, not Onias III. The description of the temple as a tower with a golden lamp occurs in the account of its closure by Roman officials (J.W. 7.420–421; 433–435), whose report Josephus probably knew, and “tower” can function as a symbol of the Jerusalem Temple (see 1 En. 89:50, 73; Tg. Isa. 5:2; Exod. Rab. 20:5; cf. Matt 21:33). Replacement of the menorah, traditionally representing the seven planets, by a single light, as well as the emphasis on gold, underscore sun-symbolism (at Ps 84:12 the sun is symbolic of the Lord’s Presence), helping to explain how the temple stood for 343 years (Hayward 1982: 432–37). The number represents the product of 7 × 7 × 7, probably referring to the sun’s brilliance in the last days (Isa 30:26 and its Targum). Josephus never mentions Leontopolis outside documents he quotes, as noted below. Isaiah’s prophecy was important for Onias, justifying the Heliopolis venture (J.W. 7.432; Ant. 13.64, 68; cf. b. Menaḥ. 109b; Jerome, Comm. Isa. VII.17); Josephus cites paraphrases of Isaiah 19:18–20. Septuagint Isaiah names as one of five Egyptian cities which will speak the language of Canaan (Isa 19:18) “the city Asedek,” representing Hebrew ‫( עיר הצדק‬ʿyr hṣdq), “the city of righteousness,” a title Isaiah 1:26 bestows on Jerusalem, whose form Onias sought to copy (J.W. 1.33). The Hebrew of Isaiah 19:18 originally read “city of the sun” (see 1QIsaa) which scribes, disapproving of Onias’ temple, seemingly emended to “city of destruction.” The “five cities” suggest a sizeable territory; indeed, the region of the temple was known as “the district called that of Onias” (Josephus, J.W. 7.421; Ant. 14.131) mentioned by Strabo (so Josephus, Ant. 13.287) and by a Jewish Egyptian epitaph from ca. 14 bce (CIJ II.1530; JIGRE 38). Septuagint Isaiah 19:20 indicates a military element; thus Onias built a citadel with the temple (J.W. 7.427), his sons and Jews of the district acquiring a reputation as soldiers (Frey 1991: 192; Ant. 13.285, 348–354; 14.131–132; Ag. Ap. 2.49–56). Isaiah 19:19 mentions an altar, which Onias built like that in Jerusalem (J.W. 7.428); it was served by priests and Levites of Onias’ own kind (J.W. 7.430, 434; Ant. 13.63, 73; cf. b. Menaḥ.109ab). Objections to Onias’ project surface in two letters of uncertain date and provenance. One is from Onias to Ptolemy and Cleopatra (Ant. 13.65–68), intimating that Egyptian Jews have many temples fostering disunity, which his single temple can obviate. Having found a place in the fortress called Bubastis of the Fields, full of trees and sacred animals, he petitions the king for permission to purify this collapsed and ownerless shrine and to build there a temple to “the greatest God” like that in Jerusalem (Last 2010: 494–516). Although Isaiah is quoted, the enterprise seems tinged with idolatry, as Ptolemy and Cleopatra indicate in their reply, which constitutes the second letter (written almost as if they were pious Jews; cf. Ant. 13.69–71). In this quoted text the site of the temple is Leontopolis, which the King describes as a “licentious” place: it was associated with animal cults. Centuries later, the Babylonian Talmud (b. Menaḥ. 109ab) would report the use of Isaiah 19:19 in a dispute between R. Meir and R. Judah, the former arguing that Onias’ temple was idolatrous, the latter that it was not. Dispassionate evaluation of Onias’ project is difficult: surviving sources are generally opposed to it. Philo never mentions it, and possible references in Sibylline Oracles and Joseph and Aseneth are too oblique to permit firm judgments. Nevertheless, this enterprise was remembered, and later generations disputed about it, strongly suggesting that it was of importance in its time.

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Surviving epigraphic evidence attests to a strong Jewish presence in “the district of Onias,” and the military exploits of those Jews evidently held more than merely local significance (Josephus, Ant. 13.285–287, 348–354; 14.131–132; Ag. Ap. 2.49–56).

Bibliography J. Frey, “Temple and Rival Temple—The Cases of Elephantine, Mt. Gerizim, and Leontopolis,” in Gemeinde ohne Tempel Community without Temple, ed. B. Ego, A. Lange, and P. Pilhofer, WUNT 118 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999), 171–203. R. Hayward, “The Jewish Temple at Leontopolis: A Reconsideration,” JJS 33 (1982): 429–43. R. Last, “Onias IV and the ἀδέσποτος ἱερός: Placing Antiquities 13.62–73 into the Context of Ptolemaic Land Tenure,” JSJ 41 (2010): 494–516. ROBERT HAYWARD

Related entries: Animal Worship; Genesis, Book of; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Oniads; Ptolemies; Sibylline Oracles 4–5; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Hellenism and Hellenization During the Second Temple period the Jews lived under the rule of two Greek dynasties: the Ptolemies (based in Alexandria) and the Seleucids (based in Asia). Later, they came under the control of the Romans, who adopted and fostered use of the Greek language and some practices throughout the Eastern part of their empire, becoming themselves agents of Hellenization. In this framework, Jewish identities—and indeed Judaism itself—were formed. After Alexander the Great’s conquests of the near East, and largely because he founded so many cities, Greek culture became a dominating and encroaching force in the Eastern Mediterranean (Bickerman 1988; Levine 1998: 3–31). Accommodation brought benefits, but the pressures could also evoke resistance, quiet or even overt. The era is indeed defined by historians as the “Hellenistic period.” In 1836, Droysen famously employed the term “Hellenism” to define the transformation of native traditions under the influence of a postclassical Greek culture that was itself in the process of change (Momigliano 1977: 307–24). Subsequently, however, “Hellenism” has come to refer to the active espousal of Greek ideals and values, while “Hellenization” describes a complex, ongoing process (Rajak 2001: 63–66). The pivotal events that have shaped collective memories of the encounter between Judaism and Hellenism were the forcible imposition of a pagan Greek cult upon the Jerusalem Temple by the Seleucid Greek ruler Antiochus IV Epiphanes, and the Judean armed resistance to it led by Judas Maccabeus and his brothers. These are documented in the first two books of Maccabees, which both survive in Greek. The prior “Hellenistic reforms” introduced by Antiochus, which included the designation of Jerusalem as a Greek polis and the establishment of a gymnasium (2 Macc 1; 2 Macc 4; Josephus, Ant. 12.237–264; Techerikover 1959: 152–74), were evidently supported by significant sectors of the high priestly elite (Bickerman 1962). They have become known as the “Hellenizers,” although this is not among their ancient labels. The Greek term hellenismos appears for the first time in the disapproving account of these reforms in 2 Maccabees 4:13. According to the sources, the reforms were followed by the forcible introduction of Greek-style sacrifices, on pain of death, throughout the Jewish territory of Judea. The subsequent resistance gained momentum, however, and its depth and longevity marked the Jews as unusual among 328

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subject peoples. At the same time, over the subsequent century, the victorious Maccabean/ Hasmonean family themselves became hellenized and governed a semi-independent Judea with many of the appurtenances of Hellenistic rulers—nomenclature, the regalia of office, elaborate court and diplomatic procedures, banqueting, concubines, and the protection of a mercenary force, although not self-deification (Rajak 2001: 39–60; 61–80; Gruen 1998: 1–40). The dynamic interaction between Judaism and Hellenism shaped later Western culture and facilitated, in one way or another, the birth of Christianity. From its early stages the encounter came to be viewed as a “clash of civilizations” (Rajak 2001: 535–57). Yet the perception of a pair of polar opposites should not obscure that Hellenism was in reality inside Judaism in ways which make their conceptual separation impossible. Jews of this era, and into late antiquity, were more like Greeks than the binary construction can allow. Many could be said quite simply to be Greeks, living in a Greek milieu, speaking Greek rather than any Semitic language, possessing a Greek cultural identity alongside a (stronger or weaker) Jewish one, and generally able to live comfortably alongside Greek polytheistic religion, as attested by synagogue and tomb inscriptions from diverse cities, ranging from North Africa (Cyrenaica) to Asia Minor (Rajak 2001: 335–499). That basic pattern could exist not only in the sizeable and far-flung Greekspeaking Jewish diaspora but even in the mixed cities and towns that surrounded the Jewish territory, both in the coastal plain and to the east and the north. A sizeable and varied heritage of Jewish writing in Greek was produced over several centuries (Gruen 1998). This heritage was in due course adopted by the Christian Church and thus transmitted onwards, much of it in fragmentary form. In the Aramaic and Hebrew speaking Jewish heartland of Judea, hellenization is harder to assess. Martin Hengel’s controversial study depicted Jerusalem as permeated by Jewish-Greek thought and writing (Hengel 1974). From Jerusalem came the grandson of Ben Sira, who writes in an informative prologue that he translated his grandfather’s book into Greek in Egypt. The presence of at least some users of the Greek language within the administrative class in the city is indisputable. The impact of the Greek style on material culture is by all accounts all-pervasive in the architecture and art of the region, even though Second Temple Jewish art was in principle firmly aniconic (Levine 1998). At the same time, internal hellenization is regularly detected in the forms of organization and thought within the intensely Jewish milieu of the Qumran sect and throughout the Dead Sea Scrolls (some of which may indeed have come from Jerusalem). Qumran caves four and seven produced scraps of biblical texts in Greek, and a longer extract from the Minor Prophets discovered elsewhere in the Judean wilderness probably dates from before 70 ce. The Greek translation of the Torah, ascribed to the end of the 3rd century bce, was the engine and the facilitator of Jewish hellenization in the sphere of thought and language (Rajak 2011). The translation quickly enabled the notable Jewish community in the new city of Alexandria to be part of the cultural world that Ptolemy fostered. At the same time, the translation protected the Jews’ intimate connection with the writings that enlightened and governed their lives. Together with the rest of the books of the Hebrew Bible, which were put into Greek in due course, the Greek Torah was a basis for creatively interweaving Judaism with Hellenism. In essence, possessing in the language of their environment the collection of holy books (around which virtually all of Jewish thought and life in some way revolved), made it possible for this “text-centered” people to live as Jews. The story of the summoning from Jerusalem of 72 translators at the behest 329

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of Ptolemy II Philadephus is recounted in the Greek Letter of Aristeas, probably composed in the 2nd century bce, in a more “correct” and literary Greek than the translation itself. Much is lost of the vigorous Jewish-Greek culture that depended upon what was to become the Septuagint translation that was produced, it would seem, mainly in Alexandria. Biblical themes were treated in Greek literary fashion. The genres included a tragedy (on the exodus) by Ezekiel, epic poetry (by a certain Philo), Judean historiography (Demetrius), religious ethnography (Artapanus), and philosophy (Aristobulus) (Collins 2000). The line culminated in the extensive output of the great philosopher and exegete Philo of Alexandria. His rich education in both the Jewish scriptures and Platonic philosophy enabled him to produce, in his commentaries and other works, a synthesis of the two thought worlds, facilitated by his own system of allegorical interpretation. In due course, the reach of the Jewish-Greek Bible extended throughout the Mediterranean diaspora, through the Hellenistic era, into Roman rule, and on into late antiquity. The second great exponent of hellenization in Second Temple Jewish literature was the 1st-century ce historian and apologist Flavius Josephus. Depending upon the Alexandrian translation, he rewrote Jewish scripture in Greek in his large scale Jewish Antiquities, to suit the tastes of a Greco-Roman audience of the late 1st century ce. All of Josephus’ surviving works were composed in the Greek language and followed Greek generic patterns, and they purported to inform “Greeks” of the supreme merits of the Jewish tradition and Jewish values, and of the power of the Jewish God. In his last work, Against Apion, Josephus, in addressing Greek hostility, encapsulates the essential paradox of the Jewish-Greek polarity: he presents in completely Greek terms the case for Jewish priority and Jewish superiority, expressed in terms of sameness and of difference simultaneously.

Bibliography See General Bibliography TESSA RAJAK

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Josephus, Writings; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Persecution, Religious; Revolt, Maccabean.

Hermippus of Smyrna Hermippus of Smyrna, a Greek intellectual and pupil of the great Alexandrian poet Callimachus, composed a wide range of works in the late 3rd and early 2nd centuries bce. The works themselves have not survived, but references to them appear primarily in Plutarch, Athenaeus, and Diogenes Laertius. His writings included a commentary on Homer, an astronomical poem, and various biographies of philosophers, law-givers, and sages. Among them was a biography of the great philosopher Pythagoras. That work contained the notable remark, quoted by Josephus and, in a slightly different form, by Origen, that Pythagoras had transferred many laws of the Jews into his own philosophy (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.162–165; Origen, Cels. 1.15.334). If the passage is accurately transmitted, it would represent the earliest reference by a Greek author to philosophical borrowings from Jews. The reference has usually been taken as evidence for Hellenic admiration of Jewish learning, but the matter is a little more complicated. The claim of a Greek debt to the Jews represents Josephus’ agenda, not necessarily Hermippus’. Some dispute exists also over

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whether the full quotation by Josephus is taken directly from Hermippus. Indeed, Hermippus, whose biography of Pythagoras was apparently a sarcastic and negative one (Diog. Laert. 8.41), likely would not be offering a favorable assessment of the Jewish legacy. Nevertheless, the text shows that the association of Pythagoras with Jewish ideas and traditions was already current in the time of Hermippus.

Bibliography J. Bollansée, Hermippus of Smyrna and his Biographical Writings: A Reappraisal (Leuven: Peeters, 1999). ERICH S. GRUEN

Related entries: Alexandria; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of.

Hermon, Mount Mount Hermon is the second highest mountain between Turkey in the north and Jemen in the south (see Map 5: Seleucids and Ptolemies [200–167 bce]). Its peak rises 2,807 m above sea level, with steep slopes to the east and more gradual, terrace-like slopes to the west (Figure 4.52). It covers over 1,000 km2, is 50 km long northeast to southwest, and is 25 km at its widest point.

Figure 4.52  View of Mount Hermon from the south.

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The summit and its slopes are covered with snow for many months of the year. The climatic conditions are harsh in summer and winter months, and inhabitants’ permanent settlements cannot extend beyond 1,500 m above sea level since higher elevations, not conducive to vegetation, are largely uninhabitable much of the year. Numismatic evidence suggests that between the Hellenistic period (4th cent. bce) and the Early Roman period (1st cent. ce), Syrians, Phoenicians, Itureans, and Jews cohabited Mount Hermon and its slopes (Dar 1993: 82–84). Itureans, the largest ethnic group in the vicinity, established the Chalkis principality, which dominated Mount Hermon and its vicinity (Strabo, Geogr. 16.2.10; Dar 1993: 19). The whole region came under Roman rule in mid-1st century bce when the Itureans and Hasmoneans lost their political independence. The Romans imposed the Herodian dynasty as rulers of Judea and entrusted them with the northeastern regions of Eretz Israel. The former Iturean regions, including Mount Hermon, were ruled by the Herodian dynasty until the 2nd century ce, when the area was annexed to the Roman province of Syria (Aliquot 2008: 76). Mount Hermon derives its name from the Semitic root, ‫( חרם‬hrm), meaning holy and untouchable. The mountain was also known by other names such as Sirion (Deut 4:48), Baalhermon (Judg 3:3), Mount Lebanon (Josephus, Ant. 3.303; 8.58, 160; 9.197), and Senir (1 En. 13:9; cf. Deut 3:8–9). Both the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Josh 11:3, 17; 12:1–6; 13:5–12; 1 Chr 5:23) and Josephus (Ant. 3.303) assign Mount Hermon to the northern boundary of the Israelites’ conquest of the Amorites (cf. Jub. 29:10). Josephus identifies this mountain as Solomon’s source of fine timber for the Jerusalem Temple (Ant. 8.58; cf. Ant. 9.197), the quality of which is attested in metaphorical allusions (Sir 24:13; Ezek 27:50). The abundance of the mountain’s dew is another of its attributes used in poetic expression (Ps 133:3). In addition to its significance as a sociopolitical boundary and source of natural goods, Mount Hermon features in the Book of Watchers (1 En. 1–36, 3rd cent. bce) that rebellious angels gather at its peak (1 En. 6:6) to swear an oath to follow through with their plan to take wives from the daughters of men (6:1–4). Their oath is curious, since in it they swear to one another under pain of curse (6:5), knowing that they will be held responsible for this great sin (6:3). The text then draws on the mountain’s etymological meaning: “And they called the mountain ‘Hermon’ (‫ )חרמון‬because they swore and bound one another with a curse (‫ )חרם‬on it” (Nickelsburg 2001: 174). Later in the narrative (13:1–10), Enoch reprimands the wayward angels on the basis of a dream he has received (13:7–8), finding them between Lebanon and Sanser, another name for Mount Hermon (13:9–10; Nickelsburg 2001: 250). The Enochic account may reflect older traditions that suggest deities dwelled among the peaks of mountains. At Mount Hermon this is attested by the more than 20 temples that have been surveyed on the mountain and its environs. One ancient text indicates that the Hittite Muršiliš II (ca. 1344–1320 bce) invoked the god of Sariyana (Mount Hermon) as a witness in a peace treaty with the Amorites (KBO. V, 9, ANET 205). The main deities venerated on the Hermon since the Bronze Age were the Canaanite “Baal-hermon” and his consort, Astarte. From the Hellenistic period onward, Zeus replaced Baal, and Astarte (Atargatis) had different female, local names. Pottery remains from some of the temple complexes suggest an affiliation with the Itureans, who inhabited the mountain from the 2nd century bce to the 7th century ce. After the Roman annexation many temples were constructed there in the Eastern Classical style. Some of them have been excavated, including temples on the summit and the southern slopes of the 332

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mountain (e.g. Senaim, Bustra, and Dura). According to Greek inscriptions, the temples and cultic sites were managed by local wealthy families. It is around these sites that life in nearby rural communities was centered.

Bibliography J. Aliquot, “Sanctuaries and Villages on Mt. Hermon during the Roman Period,” in The Variety of Local Religious Life in the Near East in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods, ed. T. Kaizer, RGRW 164 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 73–96. S. Dar, Settlements and Cult Sites on Mt. Hermon, Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). M. Givati, The Hermon Mountain Operation (Ben-Shemen: Modan Publishing House, 2015). E. M. Ruprechtsberger, Vom Dscholan auf den Mount Hermon, LAFSup 7 (Linz: Linzer Archäologische Forschungen, 1992). SHIMON DAR AND DANIEL M. GURTNER

Related entries: Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Fallen Angels; Hasmonean Dynasty; Herod the Great; Herodians; Itureans; Oaths and Vows.

Herod the Great Introduction.  Herod the Great was arguably the most powerful and influential Jewish monarch in history. Although born of a non-priestly and non-royal Idumean family, he was able to usurp the throne of Judea from the Hasmoneans and rule as King of Judea from 40 to 4 bce. Throughout his reign, Herod dexterously negotiated the complex and dangerous world of the late Roman Republic. He not only survived the civil wars that decimated the Roman elite but also used these unstable times to solidify his position as a crucial friend and ally to Rome. By leveraging this position, he was able to bring his kingdom to its greatest economic success and political importance. The Rise of Herod the Hasmonean Courtier.  During the reign of John Hyrcanus II (67–40 bce), Herod’s family, the Antipatrids, dominated the court in Jerusalem, with Herod’s father Antipater being its most influential official (Kokkinos 2010: 95–98). Herod himself began his public career in 47 bce when his father appointed him στρατήγος (stratēgos, military commander) of Galilee. The Roman officials in the region took note of his ability to suppress local bandits along the Syrian border with Galilee (Marshak 2015: 75–81). In particular, he impressed the proconsul of Syria, Sextus Julius Caesar, who later appointed Herod στρατήγος of Coele-Syria and Samaria (Josephus, J.W. 1.204–5; Ant. 14.158–160). After Herod’s father Antipater was poisoned by a rival in 43 bce, Herod and his brother, Phasael, assumed their father’s position, becoming Hyrcanus’ most trusted and powerful officials. The brothers dominated the Hasmonean kingdom until 40 bce, when the Parthians invaded Judea and placed their ally, the Hasmonean Mattathias Antigonus, on the throne. Herod fled to Rome to ask for help against the Parthians and Antgionus, while Phasael was captured and died in captivity (Marshak 2015: 92–104). With the support of Marc Antony and Octavian, the Senate proclaimed Herod King of Judea and promised him military aid in his war against Antgionus (J.W. 1.282–285; Ant. 14.381–389). Herod returned to Judea, defeated Antigonus, and captured Jerusalem in 37 bce (J.W. 1.349–357; Ant. 14.476–491). 333

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Herod, King of Judea. Herod ruled in relative security until 30 bce, when his primary patron, Antony, was defeated at the Battle of Actium. He immediately traveled to Rhodes and persuaded Octavian that he would be an asset to the new regime as a loyal client king. Octavian confirmed Herod’s position and enlarged his kingdom (J.W. 1.386–397; Ant. 15.187–201). For the next 26 years, Herod provided a stable and friendly ally on the eastern border, kept the peace, and promoted Romanization in Judea (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). In response, Octavian, later known as Augustus, expanded Herod’s realm, presenting him with the territories of Trachonitis, Batanaea, and Auranitis in 24/23 bce and Ulatha and Paneas in 20 bce. He also gave Herod control of the copper mines on Cyprus and half of their revenue. By the end of his reign, Herod ruled over a kingdom that rivaled all previous Jewish monarchies in size, wealth, and importance (Richardson 1996: 216–38, 262–94; Marshak 2015: 139–229). In addition to his value as a stable and friendly ally to Rome, Herod also acted as a patron and benefactor of Greco-Roman cities throughout the Eastern Mediterranean (J.W. 1.422–428; Ant. 16.146–149). He enhanced his political reputation by engaging in the royal euergetism typical of Hellenistic monarchs. He also strengthened ties of friendship between Judea and other kingdoms and cities in the Eastern Mediterranean. Finally, Herod also may have been seeking to improve the status of the local Jewish communities. Benevolence from a Jewish king could only improve the locals’ opinions of the Jews in their midst (Rocca 2008: 42–52; Marshak 2015: 231–49, 301–3). Indeed, Josephus records several instances in which Herod successfully defended Jewish interests and advocated for Jewish rights in the diaspora (Ant. 16.27–65, 160–173). Internally, Herod was a prolific builder, and his building program, which included an impressive array of buildings and urban projects, is perhaps his most well-known achievement (Netzer 2008). Some of his most famous projects include his fortress at Masada, as well as his two cities in honor of Augustus, Sebaste, and Caesarea Maritima. Caesarea became his new capital, and its new harbor became the largest artificial port on the Mediterranean coast (J.W. 1.408–414; Ant. 15.331–341). Nevertheless, the reconstruction and renovation of the Jerusalem Temple was the centerpiece of Herod’s building program (J.W. 1.401; Ant. 15.380–425). This project, which began around 20 bce, was monumental in scale. Just the expansion of the esplanade itself involved both the construction of massive retaining walls and the removal of huge chunks of earth. When completed, the temenos, at about 144,000 m2, was the largest sanctuary site in the ancient world. The sanctuary itself also received significant renovations, and Herod constructed lavish porticos and a reception hall, whose columns had a diameter that was, according to Josephus, the spread of three men’s arms (Ant. 15.413). The rebuilding was a major success. It employed tens of thousands of laborers, and since work on the Temple was not fully completed until 64 ce, it provided lifetime employment for these workers and even their descendants. Furthermore, Herod accomplished this project at the most important and conspicuous site in his entire kingdom, the center of Jewish religious life. It elevated the status of the Temple Mount in the Roman world and transformed it into a cultic center for Jews all over the Mediterranean as well as those living as far away as Babylon (Netzer 2008: 137–78; Marshak 2015: 312–34). While Herod found great success in foreign policy, his attempts to control his own family and his court were less effective. In his quest to secure his throne, he ruthlessly executed anyone perceived as a threat to his regime, including his brother-in-law Aristobulus III, his wife Mariamme, 334

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and his mother-in-law Alexandra. He also executed three of his sons. Such political murders may have been necessary, but they undoubtedly led to a climate of fear and suspicion within the Herodian court (Richardson, 1996: 273–77, 282–94; Kokkinos 2010: 206–45). When Herod died in 4 bce, a series of disturbances and riots broke out all over the kingdom. This turmoil suggests that many in his kingdom did not approve of his rule. While perhaps not the most popular monarch, Herod managed to achieve enough support from those with political agency to rule without significant disturbance for over thirty years and to pass on his kingdom to his chosen successors.

Bibliography A. Kolman Marshak, The Many Faces of Herod the Great (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015). N. Kokkinos, The Herodian Dynasty: Origins, Role in Society, and Eclipse, rev. ed. (London: Spink, 2010). P. Richardson, Herod: King of the Jews and Friend of the Romans (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1996). ADAM MARSHAK

Related entries: Architecture; Fortresses and Palaces; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Idumea; Josephus, Writings of; Masada, History of; Roman Emperors; Roman Governors; Samaria-Sebaste; Temple, Jerusalem.

Herodians “Herodians” is a modern designation for the large family of Herod the Great, which included several leading political figures in 1st-century ce Judea. After Herod died in 4 bce, Augustus gave his realm to three of his sons: Archelaus, Antipas, and Philip. Educated at the Augustan court, they were destined to continue their father’s work in administering Judea, albeit under renewed conditions. None of them reigned as king: instead, Archelaus became ethnarch of Judea and Samaria, Antipas was made tetrarch of Galilee and Perea, and Philip received a tetrarchy including Batanea, Gaulanitis, and Trachonitis (Josephus, J.W. 2.93–97; Ant. 17.317–320). While Archelaus was deposed in 6 ce and his realm was added to the province of Syria (J.W. 2.111, 117; Ant. 17.342–344, 354), Philip and Antipas reigned for several decades. It was not before 41 ce that the empire of Herod was restored under one king, his grandson Agrippa I (J.W. 2.214–17; Ant. 19.274–75), only to be annexed to the province of Syria again in 44 ce after Agrippa’s death (J.W. 2.214–220; Ant. 274–75, 350–363). But Herodian kings now reigned over the small kingdom of Chalcis (Herod son of Aristobulus 44–48 ce, followed by Agrippa II) and managed to gain authority over the Jerusalem Temple. From 53 ce onwards, Agrippa II received not only the former territory of Philip but also significant parts of the Galilee, over which he reigned as king (J.W. 2.247–52; Ant. 20.137–38). Having failed to prevent the Jews from going to war with Rome in 66 ce, this last Herodian king spent the rest of his life at Rome. The Herodian rulers often remain shadowy figures, as many aspects of the political and administrative history of their reigns lie in the dark, with inscriptions only occasionally offering some glimpses (Haensch 2014). The sources are more interested in scandals, like Antipas’ second marriage to his brother’s wife Herodias (connected to the killing of John the Baptist 335

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only in the NT at Mark 6:17–19 and parallels), or the affair of the Roman emperor Titus with Berenice, Agrippa II’s sister (e.g. Suetonius, Tit. 7.1–2; cf. rumors of incest with Agrippa: Josephus, Ant. 20.145; Juvenal, Sat. 6.156–160). The latter story nevertheless reveals an important aspect of Herodian history, for several members of the family were integrated into the Roman court society. Both Agrippa I and Agrippa II owed their positions to their personal connections with Roman emperors (Caligula, Claudius, and Nero), and they could use these to intercede on behalf of the Jews. When Caligula planned to erect a statue of himself in the Jerusalem Temple, it was Agrippa I who kept him from doing so (Josephus, Ant. 18.289–301; Philo, Leg. 261–333), and Herod son of Aristobulus together with Agrippa II managed to preserve the garments of the high priest in Jewish hands in 44 ce when they were supposed to be kept by the Roman procurator (Josephus, Ant. 20.9–14). Agrippa II tried to convince the Jews not to start the Jewish War (cf. Agrippa’s speech invented by Josephus in J.W. 2.345–404) but was expelled from Jerusalem; when the conflict had broken out, he knew where his loyalty lay and unequivocally took the Roman side. Much like local elites in other regions of the Roman Empire, the Herodians enjoyed Rome’s trust and could use their influence to the benefit of the Jewish people. Their role as mediators between Rome and Jerusalem, although subject to several sometimes unpredictable constitutional changes, was a defining characteristic of the dynasty (Wilker 2007). However, it could also lead to conflicts with parts of the Jewish populace. There are indications that the family’s Jewishness was doubted by some, either because of their Romanizing tendencies (e.g. Philip minted coins showing an image of Tiberius) or because of their descent. Agrippa I (whose support for Judaism is praised by Josephus, J.W. 19.328–31 in contrast to Herod the Great) was supposedly confronted with demands not to enter the Temple (J.W. 19.332), although m. Soṭah 7:8 makes the point that Deuteronomy 17:15 was not seen as excluding Agrippa’s kingship. The problematic position of the Herodians vis-à-vis the local inhabitants has been argued to be one of the reasons why Roman-Jewish relations turned catastrophic in 66 (Avidov 2009: 123–56). However, the importance of these internal conflicts has been called into question (Wilker 2007: 476–77), and at least the immediate reasons for going to war with Rome were of a different nature. “Herodians” also appear in the New Testament as a defined group in close proximity to the Pharisees, with whom they make plans to kill Jesus (Mark 3:6) and try to trick him into making a politically unacceptable statement (Mark 13:13 par. Matt 22:16). According to Epiphanius (Pan. 20.1; cf. Ps.-Tert., Adv. omn. haer. 1.1), these people regarded Herod the Great as the messiah. While some modern scholars have accepted this (e.g. Schalit 1969, 479–81), a less speculative theory is to regard them as political supporters of Antipas or Agrippa I (Bickerman 1938).

Bibliography A. Avidov, Not Reckoned among Nations. The Origins of the So-Called “Jewish Question” in Roman Antiquity, TSAJ 128 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). E. Bickerman, “Les Hérodiens,” RB 47 (1938): 184–97. R. Haensch, “The Contributions of Inscriptions to our Knowledge of the Herodian Dynasty,” SCI 33 (2014): 99–116.

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A. Schalit, Herodes der Große. Der Mann und sein Werk (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1969). J. Wilker, Für Rom und Jerusalem. Die herodianische Dynastie im 1. Jahrhundert n. Chr., Studien zur Alten Geschichte 5 (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Antike, 2007). BENEDIKT ECKHARDT

Related entries: Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Procurators; Roman Governors; Romanization.

Herodion (Herodium) The historical and psychological factors that inspired the palace-fortress of Herodion arise from the very genesis of Herod the Great’s ascent to power (see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). When the Parthians entered into an alliance with the Hasmonean prince, Mattathias Antigonus (40 bce), Herod’s position was mortally threatened. As he retreated south from Jerusalem, his own brother, Phasael, was captured and suffered death. During his desperate flight for survival, Herod’s mother, Cypros, was gravely injured in a chariot accident. The pursuit of Antigonus and the endangerment to his family drove Herod into a near-suicidal collapse; yet Cypros survived, and a resurgent Herod triumphed over Antigonus near the site where Herodion would be built (Ant. 14.352–360; 13 km south of Jerusalem). The eventual construction of Herodion, “named after himself ” (J.W. 1.419), in the 20s bce in this otherwise obscure location embodied Herod’s deep psychological identification with the events that occurred in this place. It was here that the origins of his kingship were to be found. The palace of “Upper Herodion” sits upon an existing hill, which was further augmented by massive artificial filling (Ant. 15.324). Upon the hill, a circular wall (Figure 4.53) with four towers at cardinal points provides a cylindrical enclosure for palatial structures within (Figure 4.54). Josephus describes the visual impression as “a ring of round towers” (J.W. 1.420). Only the eastern tower is truly rounded, while the other three are semicircular. Within this fortified ring, a rectangular courtyard occupies about half of the enclosed area on the east. The remaining western portions feature a large triclinium to the south, with smaller chambers at the center, and a Romanstyle bathhouse to the north. An aqueduct transported water from a spring near Solomon’s Pools; extensive cisterns supplied storage. Herodion is an exemplary specimen of the “palace-fortress,” an architectural design in which “royal apartments were made for security and for ornament at the same time” (Ant. 15.323–325; LCL).

Figure 4.53  Aerial image of Herodion.

Figure 4.54  Enclosed interior at the top of Herodion.

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Excavations upon the eastern slope of the hill in 2007 further revealed an architectural platform which preserved the remains of richly decorated limestone sarcophagi. Since Josephus insists that Herod was buried at Herodion (J.W. 1.672–673; Ant. 17.196–199), one plausible interpretation of these remains is that a mausoleum of the Herodian royal family was constructed here, perhaps including Herod’s own burial site (Porat, Chachy, and Kalman 2015). These excavations also revealed a small theater, fit for entertaining important visitors. Additional projects arose at the base of the hill. On the north, “Lower Herodion” offered a larger complex of palatial structures, surrounding a large artificial pool and formal gardens. Herodion appears to have served a variety of functions. At the beginning of Herod’s career its location had proven a defensible position under the worst possible circumstances. It also served as a luxurious retreat for the royal family, a diplomatic and administrative center capable of hosting hundreds of visitors, and a burial site that expressed Herod’s deep attachment to this place. During the Great Revolt, Jewish revolutionaries plundered Herodion and utilized its fortifications; in the Bar Kokhba revolt, revolutionaries further developed a series of subterranean defense tunnels among its cisterns (see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]).

Bibliography R. Porat, R. Chachy, and Y. Kalman, Final Reports of the 1972–2010 Excavation Directed by Ehud Netzer: Volume I, Herod’s Tomb Precinct (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society / Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2015). CASEY D. ELLEDGE

Related entries: Aqueducts; Architecture; Baths; Burial Practices; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Fortresses and Palaces; Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Theaters.

High Priests According to the Torah, the priesthood was bestowed only on the sons of Aaron, the first high priest in Israel (e.g. Num 17:1–5, 16–28; 18:1–7; 25:13; Lev 7:35–36; ch. 8), but at least in the late Second Temple period this was not always the case. The prominence of the high priest in Judah of the Second Temple period is evident from the late biblical prophetical and historical writings. Thus, Haggai appeals both “to Zerubbabel, son of Shealtiel, the governor of Judah, and to Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest” (Hag 1:1, 12, 14; 2:2, 4; Zech 3:1, 8; 6:11) as equally ranking leaders of the Jews (cf. Ezra 5:2). According to Nehemiah 3:1, Eliashib the high priest appears at the head of the list of the builders of the wall of Jerusalem. The genealogical list in Nehemiah 12:10–11 concludes with Yaddua, son of Yo’anan (the MT reads “Jonathan,” which is a scribal error; cf. Neh 12:22, 23). According to the Elephantine manuscripts he served as high priest in 407 bce (Cowley 1923: 112, 120: no. 30, lines 18, 30 and no. 31, lines 17–18, 29). The preeminent status of the high priest can be deduced from the appeal made by the Jews of Elephantine to “Jeho’anan the high priest and his colleagues, the priests who are in Jerusalem,” which runs parallel to their appeal to Bagohi, the governor of Judah, and the free men of Judah, asking for help in getting permission to restore the ruined temple of the Lord in Elephantine. This is related in a letter dated to 407 bce, because they 338

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had received no reply to their letter of 410 bce (Cowley 1923: 112, 120: no. 30, lines 18–19 and no. 31, lines 17–18). In the first quarter of the 4th century bce, the Chronicler creates a hierarchical balance between Jehoiada the high priest and King Joash of Judah (2 Kgs 12 par. 2 Chr 24). Moreover, in order to render Jehoiada’s image even more prominent and to demonstrate his positive attitude to the king, the Chronicler mentions his name more frequently than occurs in the parallel texts in Kings. The Chronicler’s particular sensitivity to the status of the high priest stems not only from his awareness of the high position enjoyed by Jehoiada the high priest in the kingdom of Judah during the reign of Joash and from his sympathy for Jehoiada in contrast to his antipathy for Joash but also—and perhaps mainly—from the high religious and political status of the high priest in his own day. The Book of Judith, which was apparently composed after the time of the book of Chronicles, indicates that Joakim the high priest acted as the supreme religious and political authority of the province of Yehud, whether independently (Jdt 4:6, 14) or together with the Council of Elders— the gerousia (Jdt 4:8; 15:8). Apart from its inscription, the silver coin of “Johana[n], the priest” closely resembles the coin of “Hezekiah, the governor,” and both seem to date approximately to the middle of the 4th century bce. Without a doubt the former was the high priest, and this coin demonstrates that Johanan was accorded a very high status, equivalent to that of the governor of Judah. It is no wonder, therefore, that according to Josephus (Ant. 11.325–339) and b. Yoma 69a it was the high priest in 332 bce who headed the delegation that met with the new conqueror, Alexander the Great. Hecataeus of Abdera (ca. 300 bce) relates that the Jews had no king; instead, he maintains that their supreme authority was vested in a man whom they termed “high priest” and that they believed that he was acting as a messenger who was handing down divine instructions (Diodorus Siculus 40.3; cf. Stern 1974–1984: 1.26–28). In Judea during the late Second Temple period, the Sadducees were predominant for several generations in the Jerusalem Temple and exerted influence on its ritual. Acts 5:17–18, Josephus (Ant. 20.199), and m. Sukkah 4:9 associate high priests with the Sadducees. Once the Pharisees became powerful, the Sadducees’ influence on the Jerusalem Temple cult was significantly reduced, and “they [= the Sadducees] perform the formulas of the Pharisees, since otherwise the masses would not tolerate them” (Ant. 18.15–17; cf. b. Yoma 19b; t. Yoma 1:5; t. Nid. 5:3; y. Yoma 7a-b [1:5]; b. Nid. 33b). The popularity of the Sadducean high priest was deemed unfavorable when he would publicly attempt to change traditional Pharisaic customs (m. Sukkah 4:9; t. Sukkah 3:1, 15; y. Sukkah 20a [4:6]; b. Sukkah 43b). At the beginning of the 2nd century bce, Ben Sira describes the high priest Simon son of John in a very positive light, particularly his service in the Temple, probably on Yom Kippur (Sir 50:1–29). However, 2 Maccabees 4:7–50 reflects low moral and spiritual levels on the part of some high priests during the 170s and 160s bce. Indeed, they bought—rather than inherited— the position of the high priesthood by bribing the Seleucid rulers: thus Jason replaced Onias (from the Zadokite clan), and Menelaus (who perhaps was not even from a priestly clan; cf. 2 Macc 3:4; 4:23) replaced Jason. Josephus also describes the evil behavior of some of them, particularly the Sadducee high priest Ananus son of Ananus, during the decades leading up to the destruction of the Temple (70 ce; Ant. 20.197–220). The low intellectual level of the high priest is also reflected in m. Yoma 1:6 (most probably from the Second Temple period), which states, 339

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“If he was a sage he used to expound [from the Scripture], but if not, the disciples of the sages used to expound before him. If he was versed in reading [the Scripture] he read, and if not, they were read before him.” There were thus unlearned and even illiterate high priests who earned their position, not because of their spiritual leadership or high education, but rather because of their family association or material wealth. Tosefta Horayot 2:1 states, “All Yom Kippur’s ritual is unacceptable unless it has been performed by him [= the high priest].” A number of Dead Sea Scrolls indicate that the community associated with Khirbet Qumran celebrated Yom Kippur on a different day than the one observed in other Jewish communities, due either to a different calendar or to a different reckoning of the same calendar. At least once, the high priest in Jerusalem confronted the community’s leader, attempting to impose his own religious norms and civic authority on that leader and his community (1QpHab xi 2–8, generally dated to the second half of the 1st century bce; cf. 1QHa xii 5–12 and 4QpPsa 4.7–9). In the New Testament Gospel traditions, the high priests Annas and Caiaphas are presented as having pushed for Jesus’ execution by the Romans (e.g. Mark 14:53–15:15; Matt 26:3–4, 57–66; 27:20–26; Luke 22:66–23:25; John 11:47–53; 18:13–19:16). Their influence notwithstanding, they were in no position at that time to act unilaterally, as the legal decision lay in the hands of the Roman prefect, Pontius Pilate.

Bibliography D. Barag, “A Silver Coin of Yohanan the High Priest and the Coinage of Judea in the Fourth Century B. C.,” INJ 9 (1986/87): 4–21. I. Kalimi, “The Day of Atonement in the Late Second Temple Period: Sadducees’ High Priests, Pharisees’ Norms, and Qumranites’ Calendar(s),” RRJ 14 (2011): 71–91. H. D. Mantel, “The High Priesthood and the Sanhedrin in the Time of the Second Temple,” in The History of the Jewish People: The Herodian Period, ed. M. Avi-Yonah (Jerusalem: Massada Publishing Co., 1975), 264–81, 371–78. S. Talmon, “Yom Hakkippurim in the Habakkuk Scroll,” Bib 32 (1951): 549–63. ISAAC KALIMI

Related entries: Calendars; Chronicles, Books of; Festivals and Holy Days; Genealogies; Hecataeus of Abdera; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Judith, Book of; Kings, Books of; Priesthood; Worship; Sacrifices and Offerings; Seleucids.

Hillel Hillel “the Elder” lived from the late 1st century bce to the early 1st century ce. His lifetime is derived from his place in the chain of tradition in Mishnah ‘Abot where he and Shammai are listed as the fifth and last “pair” after Simeon the Just by the rabbis who quote him. Among Jewish writings he is only mentioned in rabbinic literature; not even Josephus, whose works cover the period of his life, mentions him. The first non-rabbinic text that refers to him is Jerome’s Commentary on Isaiah (III 8:11/15): Sammai igitur et Hellel non multo priusquam Dominus nasceretur, orti sunt in Iudaea (“Shammai and Hillel, not long before the Lord’s birth, were living in Palestine”). Sifre Deuteronomy 357 states that “he came up from Babylonia” at the age of 40 and lived to the age of 120 like Moses, thus emphasizing his importance for the Torah. A late text (y. Ta’anit 4.2, 68a) claims his descent from David. Once when the 14th of Nisan fell on 340

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the Sabbath, Hillel is said to have argued that the Pesach overrides the Sabbath (t. Pesaḥ 4:13). The people were so impressed that “on that very day they appointed Hillel as nasi [president, i.e. of the Sanhedrin].” The coincidence of Sabbath and Pesach was, of course, a regular occurrence, about which Hillel would not have had to give specific instruction. His appointment is strange (Neusner 1971: 1.232–35); at most it could have been to the leadership of a Torah school (cf. e.g. Urbach 1987: 588), but not to the leadership of the Pharisaic movement. No text states that Hillel was a Pharisee; his association with them derives from the unproven assumption that all predecessors of the rabbis were Pharisees. The claim that the Patriarchal dynasty descends from him is based on b. Ŝabbat 15a: His son Simeon (nowhere else mentioned) is said to be the father of Gamaliel the Elder. The “houses of Hillel and Shammai,” frequently mentioned in rabbinic texts proposing different halakic decisions (the “house of Hillel” normally more lenient than the “house of Shammai”), represent two tendencies in the development of the halakah and are not formal “schools” deriving directly from Hillel and Shammai. Tosefta Sanhedrin 7:11 attributes to Hillel seven hermeneutical rules frequently connected with the question of Pesach (esp. in the version of y. Pesaḥim 6:1,33a), where, however, only part of these rules occurs. They are a collation of traditional rules of Hellenistic rhetoric without any connection with Hillel. Early rabbinic texts attribute to Hillel several halakic innovations (taqqanot), best known among them the prozbul, a declaration before a court (pros boulēn) according to which, contrary to Deuteronomy 15:9–10, debts are not to be released in the Sabbatical year (m. Ŝeb. 10:3; Sifre Deut. 113; cf. Avery-Peck 2015). Several moral statements or wisdom sayings are reported in Hillel’s name, in the Tosefta regularly connected with biblical verses (t. Ber. 2:21; 6:24; t. Sukkah 4:3), in Mishnah ‘Abot without biblical support (Schwartz 1997). ‘Abot also contains sayings in Aramaic (1:13; 2:6) sometimes connected with Hillel’s Babylonian origin; these sayings are not ipsissima verba but rather proverbial sayings. “Separate not from the community, trust not yourself until the day of your death, judge not your fellow until you are in his place” (2:4) becomes a rabbinic ideal. “Be a disciple of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace” (1:12) is the basis of later legendary stories about Hillel’s meekness, the best known of which is the story in b. Ŝabbat 31a about people who try in vain to infuriate Hillel by jocular questions and a man who will be converted to Judaism under the condition that Hillel teaches him the entire Torah while the candidate is standing on one foot. Many of these stories follow Hellenistic patterns (chreia) about Greek philosophers and cannot be used for reconstructing Hillel’s life and character.

Bibliography A. J. Avery-Peck, “Hillel,” EBR 11 (2015): 1086–87. J. Neusner, The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees before 70, 3 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1971). D. R. Schwartz, “Hillel and Scripture: From Authority to Exegesis,” in Hillel and Jesus. Comparative Studies of two Major Religious Leaders, ed. J. H. Charlesworth and L. L. Johns (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 335–62. E. E. Urbach, The Sages. Their Concepts and Beliefs (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987). GÜNTER STEMBERGER

Related entries: Pentateuch; Sages; Talmud, Babylonian; Talmud, Jerusalem.

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Historiography History, literally, is an inquiry (ἱστορία, historia) about the past. Historical inquiries into events of the past might be conducted using a variety of sources of varying credibility, such as eyewitness reports (autopsy), contemporary inscriptional or written records, literary traditions, oral traditions, legends, and myths. The literary product of such research is called historiography or historywriting, i.e., prose narrative about the past that contains purported factual or “historical” content. Ancient historiography often included plausible fictional reconstructions of dramatic episodes and speeches within a broader factual framework of historical events, blurring the distinction between fiction and nonfiction. Major works of Jewish historiography belonging to the Second Temple period include the following: the Primary History of Genesis-Kings (Babylonian, Persian, or Hellenistic eras); Ezra–Nehemiah and Esther, unless Esther is considered novelistic (Persian or Hellenistic eras); 1 and 2 Chronicles, 1 and 2 Maccabees (Hellenistic era); and historical narratives by Nicolaus of Damascus, Philo, and Josephus (Roman era). Jewish historiography of the Second Temple period was influenced by both Mesopotamian and Greek literary conventions. Mesopotamian historiography was typically created by palace scribes and included annals and monumental inscriptions dealing with conquests and royal accomplishments. Greek historiography was typically created at individual initiative by educated elites and included both local histories of a single city or nation and universal histories. Historical research into the past (archaiologia) might include both local myths and recent history. A distinction arose in the early Hellenistic era between mythography, which dealt with myths and legends set in mythical and heroic times, and historiography proper, which dealt with more contemporary events supported by records and eyewitness accounts. The dividing line between mythography and history in biblical historiographical texts is a topic of continued scholarly discussion, but extrabiblical Jewish historiography of the Hellenistic and Roman eras, when it did not recount biblical events, often dealt with near-contemporary “historical” events. Greek history-writing (historiography) and serious historical drama (tragedy) utilized similar conventions in depicting events from the past. The rules for Greek tragedy required that the playwright operate within the framework of accepted “facts” about the past. Since most Greek tragedy was set in the legendary Greek age of heroes, this “factual” framework meant the accepted body of Greek traditions about the personalities and events of legendary times. Within the constraints of this framework, Greek tragedians could freely invent events and dialogue to suit their dramatic purposes. Historiography operated within similar rules. Under Greek literary conventions, the historian was permitted—indeed, expected—to invent speeches put into the mouths of historical figures appropriate to the historical occasion, in order to give the reader of the account the dramatic experience of living through these great events. Jewish biblical and extrabiblical historiography adopted similar conventions. In the 4th century bce, the “tragedic” style of historiography effectively subordinated history-writing to the artistic aims of Greek tragedy by providing dramatic accounts of historical events in purple prose to illustrate moral themes, often aiming at either stoking pride for the bravery of the defenders of Greek liberties or evoking emotions of horror and pity at the downfall of cities or nations. The books of 1 and 2 Maccabees (esp. the latter) are examples of Jewish historiography written in Greek “tragedic” style. 342

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It is possible to detect several motives—not necessarily mutually exclusive—for Mesopotamian, Greek, and Jewish history-writing. Sometimes the aim of historiography was factual, to provide official records of contemporary events (Mesopotamian annals) or an objective investigation into events of the past (Herodotus, Thucydides, Aristotle, 1 and 2 Maccabees, Philo, Josephus); sometimes to entertain the reader (Herodotus, Ephoros, Theopompus); sometimes to provide practical examples of statesmanship or military strategy for the education of future leaders (Thucydides, Aristotle, Polybius, 1 Maccabees); sometimes to give a flattering account of the king (Mesopotamian monuments), the historiographer (Josephus), or the author’s literary patron (Nicolaus of Damascus on Herod the Great); sometimes to advertise the past greatness of a nation (Berossus, Manetho, Genesis-Kings, Josephus) or to defend a nation from its detractors (Philo, Josephus); and sometimes to moralize, motivate, or draw ethical lessons from the past by inspirational or cautionary examples (Isocrates, Ephoros, Theopompus, 1 and 2 Maccabees). Jewish historiography often dealt with the unique theme of divine interventions in the course of historical events (Genesis-Kings, Esther, 1 and 2 Maccabees). Evaluating these potential motivations becomes important when considering a historiographer’s stylistic and rhetorical choices and classifying their accounts of particular events on a spectrum from pure story (muthos) to discourse with factual content (logos).

Bibliography R. E. Gmirkin, “Greek Genres in the Hebrew Bible,” in Biblical Interpretation Beyond Historicity, ed. I. Hjelm and T. L. Thompson, CPOTS 7 (London: Routledge, 2016), 91–102. G. E. Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition: Josephus, Luke-Acts and Apologetic Historiography, NovTSup 64 (Leiden: Brill, 1992). J. Van Seters, In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983). RUSSELL E. GMIRKIN

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; Ezra, Book of; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Kings, Books of; Literacy and Reading; Logos; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Nehemiah, Book of; Novels; Philo of Alexandria; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of.

Holiness Biblical Holiness. Second Temple notions of holiness build directly on biblical precedents. Biblical notions of holiness focus on God, divine things (sacrifices), people (priests, Israel), and space (shrines, Jerusalem Temple, land). Holiness is an attribute of God that God shares at will with people, places, or things. The Hebrew root qdš (‫ )קדש‬often translated as “holy” connotes separation, distinction, and otherness (e.g. Exod 31:13; Lev 20:8; 21:8, 23; 22:9; Ezek 37:28). These texts focus on classifying their world into holy/belonging to God and unholy/common. Yet even within the biblical traditions contradictions arise that allow for multiple questions to develop, such as whether the Israelite God may be worshiped in more than one place and who, within God’s creation, can worship this deity. Moreover, the concept of holy text or scripture begins developing during this period. Already in the late biblical literature Jeremiah speaks of “holy words” (23:9) and the author of Daniel (11:28, 30) of a “holy covenant.” The concept of shared holy writ emerged among Second Temple Jewish communities, even as the content and interpretation of that scripture varied considerably.

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God and Worship.  While biblical books such as Deuteronomy (12:5, 11; 14:23–25; 16:2), 1 Kings (8:27–30), 2 Kings (21:4, 7), and Ezra (1:1–2) suggest that there is only one legitimate place to and cult practice through which God may be worshiped, namely the Temple cult in Jerusalem, other books indicate that Israelites worshiped their deity in many different places (e.g. Shilo—Judg 18:31, 21:19, 1 Sam 1:3, Jer 7:12; Schechem—Josh 24:1; Bethel—Judg 20:18, 21:2, 1 Kgs 12:32–33; and Beer Sheba—Gen 31:33, 46:1). Even after Jerusalem’s supremacy was secured in the early Second Temple period, other temples were built for Israelite worship in Egypt (Elephantine 4th cent. bce; Leontopolis 2nd cent. bce). The books of the Maccabees are written, in part, to insist on Jerusalem’s exclusive rights in the face of such competition (Doran 1981; Zsengellér 2007: 191). The biblical priestly texts construct a system of holy space and holy behavior aimed at protecting and keeping God’s holy presence within Israel, yet little is known about the functioning of the Jerusalem Temple in the Second Temple period. Supposedly a complicated biblical system applied similarly within the Temple precincts in that only certain personnel (the priests), properly prepared through purity rituals, could approach the innermost areas with the properly prepared sacrifices for the cult. Yet it seems that how the ritual played out and who was responsible became sites of contention, such that some groups actively protested the Jerusalem cult during the Second Temple period. The Yaḥad, for instance, removed themselves to the Dead Sea for fear that Jerusalem was irredeemably defiled. In its place they created an alternate holy space (the Yaḥad, or the community itself) within which they could worship God. Yet most Jews recognized the Temple as central to Jewish life by the time Herod began his glorious renovation of it. Both Josephus and Philo regularly refer to that Temple as “the holy place” in their writings (Josephus, Ant. 3.125; Philo, Leg. 3.125). People—Priests and Israel.  The Second Temple literature builds on the biblical notions of holy people by creating hierarchies of holiness in which all Israel is holy. Ezra, for instance, limits the classification of “Israel” to those who both returned from exile and preserved their lineage through endogamous marriage (Ezra 9–10). The Book of Jubilees further explores this racial notion of Israel’s holiness by elevating all Israel to priestly levels and thus compelling them to follow even more restrictive marriage patterns (Jub. 30). Yet other communities and texts begin to contest the means by which a people becomes or maintains its holiness. Ezra and the author of Jubilees, for instance, maintain that all Israel is holy, but assert that it must maintain its holiness through obedience to the law. This protection paradigm evolves further into a parallel paradigm of holy achievement, outside of ethnicity, such that Paul, in the 1st century ce, can suggest that faith in Jesus could be perceived as the new means by which one achieves holiness and holy community (e.g. Rom 4:2–7; 1 Cor 6:9–11). Space—Temple and Holy Land. The hierarchy of holiness among people also plays out in the imagination of ancient Jewish writers concerning holy space. While Jerusalem remains the epicenter of God’s holiness, this same holiness radiates out to the whole of the Land of Israel. Ezekiel, for instance, in an attempt to protect God and God’s holiness, recreates the Temple on an exactly concentric plan that encompasses most of Jerusalem as well (Ezek 40–47). In this schema people and things can only enter the Temple precincts that correspond with their particular levels 344

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of holiness and purity. The Book of Jubilees perceives the whole of the land as triangulated between three specific holy sites: Mount Sinai, Mount Zion, and Mount Eden (Jub. 8). The Letter of Aristeas presents the whole of the land as holy, with Jerusalem at its very center (Let. Aris. 83–84). Finally, the early rabbis take Ezekiel’s “concentric levels of holiness plan” and stretch it out to the whole of the land as well (m. Kelim 1:6–9).

Bibliography M. Himmelfarb, A Kingdom of Priests: Ancestry and Merit in Ancient Judaism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006). N. Koltun-Fromm, Hermeneutics of Holiness: Ancient Jewish and Christian Notions of Sexuality and Religious Community (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). J. Zsengellér, “Maccabees and Temple Propaganda,” in The Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology, ed. G. Xeravits and J. Zsengellér, JSJS 118 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 181–95. NAOMI KOLTUN-FROMM

Related entries: Dead Sea Scrolls; Ezekiel, Book of; High Priest; Josephus, Writings of; Land, Concept of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Priesthood; Sacrifices and Offerings; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Horoscopes Horoscopes involved determining the positions of the classical planets in the zodiac and other astronomical data, usually on a birthdate, for the purpose of making long-term predictions about an individual’s fate. There is no evidence in Second Temple of Judaism that any personal horoscopes coordinated with dates in a calendar, as is known from Greek and Babylonian astrology (e.g. Rochberg 1998; Albani 1999: 280–82). There is support, however, for an argument that a form of horoscopic astrology for king and country may have existed in Judea. A passage in the Book of Jubilees (12:16–19; cf. 11Q12 8.2–6) suggests that a form of weather astrology was practiced using a calendrical date. According to the text, Abram rejects an apparent astrological method for predicting rain for the year ahead by observing the stars on the first day of the seventh month. He declares that the weather is God’s will and cannot be changed; in addition, he may be arguing implicitly against magicians, fortune-tellers, and rainmakers. Nonetheless, in the Jubilees calendar the first day of the first, fourth, seventh, and tenth months mark the four divisions of the year and the Days of Remembrance (Jub. 6:23). A similar horoscopic procedure is recorded in Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos II:10–11 (mid-2nd cent. ce) which involves a method of interpreting the weather for the forthcoming year by taking as its point of departure the new moon prior to the first day of the year. The physiognomic Hebrew text of 4Q186 adapts earlier sources on divination and physiognomy from Greece and Babylonia (Popović 2011). It is not a horoscope as such since it is not based on a date. Instead, it works in reverse by identifying an individual’s sign (it is not clear how that was defined) from the details of a person’s appearance and spiritual qualities. It makes general predictions by deducing the individual’s sign from the typology of their body parts, their eyes, teeth, hair, and a graded quality of spiritual character. The text (with the exception of some letters) is mostly inscribed backward on lines that are also written in reverse, reminiscent of later Samaritan, Aramaic, and Greek magical texts and artifacts.

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No zodiacal elements have been preserved in the Aramaic physiognomic text 4QHoroscope ar (4Q561), although its physiognomic descriptions are comparable to those of 4Q186. There is a strong similarity between both these texts and the content of Tetrabiblos III 11. It is possible that a different kind of horoscope in Judea may have been compiled from a birthdate on the basis of lunar and solar data alone. The Dead Sea Aramaic texts of 4Q318 and formulaically enumerates the position of the moon in the zodiac for each day in every month for an ‘ideal’ 360-day year. Arguably, this is also an important feature of the Aramaic calendrical texts 4QAstronomical Enocha-b (4Q208–209) (Jacobus 2014: 91–99, 260–322).(It is not yet known if 4Q208 is an earlier version of 4Q209, or if it describes a different year). These zodiac calendars derive from late Babylonian astronomical and astrological texts (for example, Ungnad 1941–44; Steele and Brack-Bernsen 2004). When these calendars are textually reconstructed using their mathematical formulas, it becomes evident that they can work with a 19-year luni-solar cycle: the moon returns to the same astronomical and zodiacal position on the same calendar date every 19 solar years to within one or two days. It would be possible, therefore, theoretically, to construct crude horoscopes from them without the planets. 4Q318 (Figure 4.55) details a year of 360 days comprised of twelve 30-day lunar months. It lists the moon’s zodiac signs for each day of the month in a schematic pattern. The monthnames correspond to the Aramaic month-names known from the late biblical books, from mosaic zodiac wheels on the floors of some early Byzantine Palestinian synagogues, and from the Jewish calendar. The list of signs is followed by a fragmentary “thunder omen” (brontologion), the text of which makes predictions about the king, the people and the land, based on the zodiac sign of the moon on the date when thunder occurs. This would probably be recorded annually at a significant time in order to make a prediction for the year to come. The format and content of this dual-text is well documented in later Byzantine astrological material in Greek. 4Q318 is both the earliest astrological manuscript of this type and the only known version in Aramaic. It is small enough to be carried about by the user. The Aramaic calendars and physiognomic texts may be “books within books” that are reminiscent of skills associated with the Watchers in the Aramaic fragments of 1 Enoch from

Figure 4.55  4Q318: Aramaic Zodiac calendar (late 1st cent. bce). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

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Qumran (4Q201, 4Q202, 4Q204 = 1 En. 6:7, 8:3) and Jubilees (Jub. 5:1–19; cf. 8:3). They may have been used to illustrate calendrical astronomy-astrology and magic.

Bibliography M. Albani, “Horoscopes in the Qumran Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls After Fifty Years (1999), 279–330. L. Brack-Bernsen and J. M. Steele, “Babylonian Mathemagics: Two Astronomical-Astrological Texts,” in Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, ed. C. Burnett, et al., IPTSTS 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 95–121. H. R. Jacobus, Zodiac Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Their Reception: Ancient Astronomy and Astrology in Early Judaism, IJS 14 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). H. R. Jacobus, “Astral Divination in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Ancient Astronomy in Its Mediterranean and Near Eastern Contexts (300 BC to AD 300), ed. A. C Bowen and F. Rochberg (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming), 408–17. M. Popović, “4Q186. 4QZodiacal Physionomy. A Full Edition,” in The Mermaid and the Partridge (2011): Essays from the Copenhagen Conference on Revising Texts from Cave Four, ed. G. J. Brooke and J. Høgenhaven., STDJ 96 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 221–58. R. Rochberg, Babylonian Horoscopes, TAPS 88 (Philadelphia: APS, 1998). A. Ungnad, “Besprechungskunst und Astrologie in Babylonien,” AfO 14 (1941–44): 251–84. HELEN R. JACOBUS

Related entries: Astronomical Book (1 Enoch 72–82); Astronomy and Astrology; Calendars; Dead Sea Scrolls; Magic and Divination; Stars; Sun and Moon.

Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms Scattered throughout the surviving literature from Second Temple Judaism are many hundreds of prayers, psalms, and hymns (Flusser 1984). As reflections of religious practice—private as well as communal, informal as well as official—these potentially offer windows into patterns of Jewish piety, including conceptions of God, socioreligious identity, religious disposition and priorities, and personal, communal, and national concerns. In most cases, these prayers, psalms, and hymns are embedded in literary texts and represent literary creations corresponding to an author’s rhetorical purposes in the manner of invented speeches, rather than prayers that were actually prayed (Matlock 2012). Still, it is likely that these literary creations reflect to some degree—even if idealized—living practices of prayer in terms of form, motifs, occasion, and posture. There are also numerous prayers, psalms, and hymns that scholars suspect were used in Jewish worship, but identification of their specific settings or actual liturgical uses is elusive. A new chapter in the study of early Jewish prayer began with the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, which for the first time provide a large corpus of liturgical prayers from the Second Temple period explicitly designated for a variety of ritual occasions (Falk 1998). Definitions.  Prayer can be broadly defined as an act of communication with the divine. As an act, though, prayer involves intention and significance: prayer is “performed with the purpose of getting results from or in the interaction of communication” (Malina 1980: 215). These functional aspects are more essential than the form. Prayer will often, but not always, address God directly in second person (cf. Newman 1999: 6–7). At the most basic level, prayer has two registers— prose and poetry—and two main modes—request and praise, although the distinctions are often 347

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blurred. Scholars use the terms psalm, hymn, and song inconsistently in relation to Jewish prayer, and this is partly due to the fact that there is no consistent use of Hebrew terms corresponding to these terms derived from the Greek terms psalmos, hymnos, ode (Schuller 1998). In this respect, then, one may utilize the terminology generally, with “psalm” used to designate poetic prayer and “hymn” for poetic praise. Petitionary Prayer.  One of the most distinctive developments in Second Temple Jewish prayer is a new emphasis on penitential prayer. The classic scriptural models for communal penitential prayer are found in three postexilic texts: Ezra 9, Nehemiah 9, and Daniel 9. These kinds of prayers contain a number of shared elements, including confession of sins in a historical review, declaration that God’s judgment is just, recollection of God’s mercies, and petition for mercy. They appear as somewhat stereotyped motifs in a variety of other Second Temple corporate prayers (e.g. Bar 1:15–3:8; 3 Macc 2:1–20; Pss. Sol. 9; 4 Ezra 8:20–36; 4Q504; 4Q393; 1QS i 18–ii 18) and in prayers of individuals (Neh 1:5–11; Tob 3:1–6; Pr. Man.; Pr. Azar; Add Esth 14:1–19). These reflect the major shift in perspective from complaint to confession of guilt that became a hallmark of postexilic prayer. This seems to have originated in communal fasts (Zech 7:1–4; 8:18–22) as a response to exile, and under the influence of the Deuteronomic prescription to “turn and seek” (Deut 4, 30) and the emphasis in Leviticus (Lev 5, 16, 26) on confession of guilt (Werline 1998: 11–64). This impulse to combine supplication in time of distress with repentance and remembrance of God’s mercies in the past (Flusser 1984: 570–73), as well as to regularize penitence (cf. Sir 39:5), had a major impact on the shape of Jewish and Christian prayer (Boda, Falk, and Werline 2006–2008). Among petitionary prayers there is a trend toward greater focus on spiritual needs, along with a reflex from an exile ideology that physical suffering is symptomatic and the root problem is spiritual frailty or stubbornness. Thus, in the Second Temple period there is an increase in petitions for spiritual strengthening, especially a cluster of petitions for knowledge, repentance, and forgiveness (Nitzan 1994: 104–11), sometimes combined with a plea for protection from evil influence (Jub 1:19–21; 4QLevia [4Q213a] ar 1.10–18; Plea for Deliverance [11QPsa {11Q5} xix 1–18]; Ps 155 [11QPsa xxiv 3–17]; Words of the Luminaries). Petitions for physical needs and the welfare of the community include such recurring concerns as healing, agricultural bounty, deliverance from distress, peace, gathering of the dispersed, justice, the demise of the arrogant, and the restoration of Jerusalem. All of these reflect scriptural motifs and language, but the clustering of petitions goes beyond scriptural models and anticipates the series of prayers at the heart of the later synagogue liturgy, the Eighteen Benedictions (Amidah). In fact, several prayers contain a series of petitions with significant parallels to most of the topics of the intermediate petitions of the Eighteen Benedictions: Sirach 36:1–17 (cf. the Hebrew hymn following Sir 51:12); 2 Maccabees 1:24–29; and Words of the Luminaries (see Falk 1998: 75–78, 200–1). Smaller clusters occur in a variety of other prayers (e.g. 3 Macc 6:1–5; Pss. Sol.; Matt 6:9–13//Luke 11:1–4). Petitions often address God as creator, God of the patriarchs, source of knowledge, and holy, and appeal to God’s mercy (Exod 34:6–7), his election of Israel, remembrance of his saving deeds in the past, and future praise. Again, all of these are scriptural motifs, but the clustering of stereotyped expressions points to a rich background of various prayer traditions that contributed to the emergence of the later synagogue liturgy. 348

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Prayers of Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving prayer is a response to a specific benefit received, especially provision, deliverance from distress, or an occasion of joy. Praise celebrates God’s character or actions in general, including God’s holiness and mercy, creation, election of Israel, past deeds, gift of knowledge, and Torah. As with scriptural prayer, even supplications and laments often include expressions of thanksgiving and praise, but in prayers of the Second Temple period, there is an increasing tendency toward stereotyped formulations of thanksgiving or praise at the beginning (e.g. Tob 8:5–8; Jub 22:7–9) and/or the end of prayers (e.g. 1 Chr 16:35–36; Pss. Sol. 2:37). Common formulations in Second Temple Jewish prayers include the following: “I give thanks to you” (e.g. Sir 51:1–12; Jdt 16; Pss. Sol. 16:5; 1QHa iv 29 and passim), “We give thanks to you” (e.g. Rev 11:17), or the impersonal “Thanks be to God” (Paul’s letters, e.g. 1 Cor 15:57); and “Blessed be you” (e.g. 1QHa viii 26; 1QS xi 15; 4Q512 passim) or the impersonal “Blessed be the Lord” (1Q34bis 2+1.4; 4Q404 2.10; 4Q504 4.14; 11Q5 xix 7) or “Blessed be the God of Israel” (e.g. 1QM xiii 2; xiv 4; 4Q502 passim; 4Q503 passim). Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls show considerable regularity in such patterns of opening and closing formulas (Schuller 1990), anticipating the standardized formulations in the later synagogue liturgy to frame all prayer with blessing: “Blessed be the Lord who …” and “Blessed be you, O Lord” (Falk 1998: 35–43, 79–84, 182–85). Embedded Prayers.  A large number of prayers from the Second Temple period are embedded in various types of literary texts, including narratives, letters, wisdom texts, apocalyptic texts, and rules. In some cases these serve purely as literary devices, e.g. a doxology at the end of a work (e.g. 3 Macc 7:23) or as comment on the action, like a Greek chorus (e.g. 2 Macc 1:17). Many prayers or psalms are presented as utterances of characters in a narrative (see Matlock 2012), especially scriptural figures; examples include the prayers of Azariah and of Daniel’s friends (Add Dan), Mordecai and Esther (Add Esther C), Noah and Abraham (1QapGen), Levi (ALD), Enoch (1 En.), Baruch (2 Bar.), Ezra (4 Ezra), Job (T. Job), Joseph (4Q372), and Joseph and Aseneth (Jos. Asen.), as well as those of the patriarchs, Moses, and other figures throughout Jubilees, Pseudo-Philo (LAB), Philo, and Josephus. There are also many narrative prayers attributed to other actors in Tobit, 1–3 Maccabees, Judith, Letter of Aristeas, and Josephus. Most of these are purely invented prayers that serve a literary function, although they probably reflect the living reality of prayer practice, especially in terms of motifs, formulas, occasion, and posture. Much less clear is the degree to which the relationship between prayer and mysticism in apocalyptic and other texts (e.g. 1 En.; 2 Bar., 4 Ezra; T. Job) reflects the practice of any particular group. Some prayers in narrative contexts intend to present a record of a prayed prayer, such as the prayers of Jesus in the Gospels (e.g. Matt 6:9–13 // Luke 11:1–4; Mark 14:36 par.), or the prayers in the letters cited in 2 Maccabees 1, or in Paul’s letters (e.g. 2 Cor 1:3–7). Prayers embedded in wisdom texts (Sir 23:1–6; 36:1–17; 51:1–12; Wis 9) serve a didactic purpose and may be intended as model prayers. There are also important prayers embedded in sectarian rule books found at Qumran. The version of the Community Rule from Cave 1 (1QS) includes an outline of an annual covenant ritual (1QS i 18–2:18) involving confession of sin by the congregation along with prayers and other recitals by priests and Levites, a description of communal daily prayer and grace at meals (1QS vi 2–8), and a psalm of times of prayer (1QS ix 26–x 5). All of these probably reflect—to some degree—actual liturgical practices of the community. The concluding psalm of the Maskil 349

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(1QS x 6–xi 22) serves a rhetorical purpose in the rule, modeling the ideal sectarian character. The War Scroll describes and prescribes procedures for an eschatological war between the forces of light and darkness, including various prayers, blessings and curses, and hymns recited before and after battles. It is possible, however, that these prayers were used somehow in the liturgical life of the sectarian community, as an apotropaic ritual. Pseudepigraphical Prayers.  The tendency to connect a prayer or psalm with a scriptural figure, mentioned above, is also evident in some freestanding prayers, including penitential prayers attributed to King Manasseh (Pr. Man.; cf. 2 Chr 33:12–13) and the Babylonian king Nabonidus (4Q242; cf. Dan 4). Two scrolls from Qumran (4Q380, 4Q381) contain a collection of nonMasoretic psalms, some or perhaps all attributed to scriptural figures, including another penitential prayer of Manasseh. There are also two autobiographical psalms of a young David (11QPsa xxviii 3–14 = LXX Ps 151 and Syr Ps I). Some of these pseudepigraphical prayers may in part intend to provide models of prayer—especially of penitence—but this autobiographical use of prayers and psalms primarily seems to be a literary device for fleshing out characters (Flusser 1984: 561–63). Psalms and Hymns.  The book of Psalms as a collection is primarily a product of the Second Temple period. Some of the psalms were composed after the exile, and diverse collections were compiled and edited during the Second Temple period both for Temple worship and for teaching (Gillingham 2014). At least 39 Psalms scrolls were discovered in the Qumran caves, and these show some variation in arrangement, number, and choice of psalms (Flint 1997: 27–43). Most notably, three scrolls (11QPsa, 11QPsb; 4QPsf) include between them twelve works not in the Masoretic Psalter, six of which were previously unknown (Sanders, Charlesworth, and Rietz 1997) (Figure 4.56). Among the Dead Sea Scrolls are numerous other psalms in collections, revealing a diverse corpus of religious poetry (Nitzan 1994: 173–318; Schuller 2006). A number of these collections are clearly sectarian, associated with the sectarian Master (Maskil) and reflecting distinctive ideology. Most famous are the Thanksgiving Hymns (1QHa; 1QHb, 4Q427–432), some of which seem to reflect personal experiences of betrayal and divine revelation by a leader, but as a whole

Figure 4.56 4QPsf (4Q88), containing Pss 22, 107, 109, and at least three “apocryphal” psalms. Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

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they serve to inculcate a sectarian identity, between humility before God and exaltation with angels (Newsom 2004: 191–286). Likely these were used liturgically in some way (cf. 1QHa xx 7), as well as for meditation and instruction. Also associated with the Maskil is a set mystical songs for sabbath (4Q400–407; 11Q17) and a set of songs to ward off evil spirits (4Q510, 4Q511). Of uncertain provenance is another scroll (11Q11) of psalms for warding off evil that includes Psalm 91, a collection of psalms of thanksgiving (Barki Nafshi, 4Q434–438) for deliverance from persecution and for implanting spiritual qualities, and the two scrolls of pseudepigraphical psalms mentioned above (4Q380–381), as well as numerous other fragmentary poetic scrolls. The collection known as the Psalms of Solomon—not found at Qumran—contains prayers in distress, psalms of confidence, wisdom psalms, and eschatological psalms. It is an important witness to Jewish eschatology, perhaps reflecting Pharisaic views on messianism, resurrection, and free will. Composed in the 1st century bce, some have a sharply polemical tone, blaming the Hasmonean dynasty for Pompey’s conquest of Jerusalem. Liturgical Scrolls. Most important for understanding the development of Jewish prayer are the various scrolls of liturgical prayers found at Qumran, since these give some indication of occasions. There are collections of prayer for fixed times of the calendar: morning and evening blessings (4Q503); petitions for each day of the week with a hymn of praise for Sabbath (4Q504, 4Q506 Words of the Luminaries); mystical Sabbath songs (4Q400–407, 11Q17); and festival prayers (1Q34+34bis; 4Q507, 4Q508, 4Q509+4Q505). Especially notable is that there is a separate prayer for each occurrence. Despite some broad points of continuity in terms of stereotyped motifs and blessing formulas, this multitude of prayers is in sharp contrast with the later synagogue liturgy, which is based around standardized prayers adapted to various occasions. The Dead Sea Scrolls also include collections of prayers for various rituals: purification rituals (4Q284, 4Q414, 4Q512), possibly a marriage ritual (4Q502), and a collection of blessings and curses (4Q286–290). There are also numerous collections of exorcism and apotropaic prayers (4Q510, 4Q511, 4Q444, 4Q560, 11QPsApa) that add considerably to the modern understanding of demonology in the Second Temple period (Eshel 2003). Distinctive concerns in the sectarian prayers include harmonizing with the order of creation and uniting with angels in worship and spiritual warfare (Chazon 2003). Epigraphic Prayers.  Finally, it should be noted that examples of Jewish epigraphic prayers allow unique glimpses of personal prayer concerns in the Second Temple period. These include prayers in burial inscriptions for peace or vengeance (CIJ 358, 725) and a graffiti prayer of thanksgiving for safe travel (CIJ 2:1537).

Bibliography M. J. Boda, D. K. Falk, and R. A. Werline, eds. Seeking the Favor of God (2006–2008). D. K. Falk, Daily, Sabbath, and Festival Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls, STDJ 27 (Leiden: Brill, 1998). D. Flusser, “Psalms, Hymns and Prayers,” Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period (1984), 551–77. S. E. Gillingham, “The Levites and the Editorial Composition of the Psalms,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Psalms, ed. William P. Brown (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 201–13. B. J. Malina, “What is Prayer?,” The Bible Today 18 (1980): 214–20. J. H. Newman, Praying By the Book: The Scripturalization of Prayer in Second Temple Judaism, SBLEJL 14 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999). 351

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B. Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry, STDJ 12 (Leiden: Brill, 1994). E. M. Schuller, “Some Observations on Blessings of God in Texts From Qumran,” in Of Scribes and Scrolls: Studies on the Hebrew Bible, Intertestamental Judaism, and Christian Origins. Presented to John Strugnell on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday, ed. H. W. Attridge, J. J. Collins, and T. H. Tobin (Lanham: University Press of America, 1990), 133–43. E. M. Schuller, “The Use of Biblical Terms as Designations for Non-Biblical Hymnic and Prayer Compositions,” Biblical Perspectives (1998), 207–22. E. M. Schuller, “Prayers and Psalms From the Pre-Maccabean Period,” DSD 13.3 (2006): 306–18. R. A. Werline, Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism: The Development of a Religious Institution, SBLEJL 13 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998). DANIEL K. FALK

Related entries: Grace (Ḥesed); Hodayot; Joseph, Prayer of; Josephus, Writings of; Manasseh, Prayer of; Nabonidus, Prayer of (4Q242); Psalms, Book of; Repentance; Self-Glorification Hymn; Synagogues.

Hyrcanus I, John The Hasmonean high priest and ruler John Hyrcanus (135–104 bce) was the first of the second generation of his family to govern the Hasmonean state (see Map 7: Hasmonean Rule [I] [160–103 bce]). He spent much of his reign fighting to keep the Hasmonean state independent from the Seleucid empire, which still claimed legal jurisdiction over Judea despite the latter’s independence since 142 bce (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 67–83). Hyrcanus also faced several internal revolts against his rule. According to Josephus (Ant. 13.203–6), he had originally been a Pharisee, but, after members of this religious sect challenged his right to serve as high priest, he became a Sadducee. Hyrcanus subsequently abolished the Pharisaic interpretation of the law (Ant. 13.288–298). Josephus (Ant. 13.228–300; J.W. 1.54–69) and 1 Maccabees (16:18–24) are the primary sources for his reign. During the rule of his father, Simon, Hyrcanus served as a military commander of the Hasmonean forces stationed at Gezer (1 Macc 16:1, 19). Following the assassination of Simon by Ptolemy, the son of Abubus, Hyrcanus fled to Jerusalem. His father’s partisans there protected him from Ptolemy’s assassins (J.W. 1.54–55; Ant. 13.228–229; 1 Macc 16:14–22). Shortly afterward, Hyrcanus became the first son since Onias III to succeed his father as high priest (Atkinson 2016). Hyrcanus then chased Ptolemy to Dok and besieged him there. According to Josephus, he had to abandon the blockade when the Sabbatical Year arrived. However, it is more likely that the appearance of the Seleucid ruler Antiochus VII Sidetes in Judea forced him to return to Jerusalem (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrow 2010: 67–71; Eshel 2008: 67–76). Sidetes besieged Hyrcanus in Jerusalem for over one year (Atkinson 2016). The Seleucid monarch halted his campaign when the Feast of Tabernacles arrived and made a truce with Hyrcanus (Ant. 13.241–242). Josephus’ different accounts of the end of the fighting suggest that Hyrcanus likely paid Sidetes to curtail his siege (J.W. 1.61; Ant. 13.245–249; cf. Plutarch, Mor. 184-F). Hyrcanus then became a Seleucid vassal and joined Sidetes in an expedition against the Parthians (131–129 bce). According to a source preserved by Josephus, Hyrcanus survived this campaign because he remained at the Lycus River to celebrate Pentecost while the Seleucid forces continued their advance (Ant. 13.249–53). After Sidetes died in combat, Hyrcanus returned home and, according to Josephus, began a successful series of military campaigns beyond the Jordan River, in Samaria, and in Idumea (J.W. 1.62–63; Ant. 13.253–257).

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Josephus preserves several legends about Hyrcanus that highlight his strict observance of religion and his closeness to God. He claims that God granted Hyrcanus three of the greatest privileges: the rule of the nation, the office of high priest, and the gift of prophecy (J.W. 1.67–69; Ant. 13.299–300). According to his accounts, while Hyrcanus was burning incense in the Temple as high priest God told him that two of his sons, Judah Aristobulus and Antigonus, had just defeated Antiochus IX Cyzicenus at the city of Samaria (Ant. 13.282). God even forewarned Hyrcanus in a dream or vision that his son Alexander Jannaeus, and not Antigonus or Judah Aristobulus, would be the heir of all his possessions (J.W. 1.69; Ant. 13.300). Josephus mentions that Hyrcanus designated his wife as his successor before his death, but he does not mention his plans for the high priesthood (J.W. 1.71; Ant. 13.302–303). After the death of Hyrcanus his son, Aristobulus I, took power and allowed his mother to starve in prison (J.W. 1.71; Ant. 13.302–303). Josephus mentions that the burial monument of Hyrcanus was among the most visible landmarks near Jerusalem at the time of the First Jewish Revolt (J.W. 5.259, 7.304). Reconstructing the reign of Hyrcanus is difficult since Josephus’ accounts are not in chronological order (Atkinson 2016). Josephus claims that Hyrcanus conquered many Syrian cities immediately after the 129 bce death of Sidetes in Parthia. However, the archaeological evidence shows that the towns Hyrcanus purportedly subjugated at this time were continuously occupied from 129 bce to 112/111 bce. These include such strategic locations as Maresha, Mount Gerizim, and Shechem. The dates of the destruction layers, occupational gaps, and evidence for an interruption in trade goods from these and other sites reveal that Hyrcanus waited more than 15 years after the death of Sidetes to undertake his military campaigns to expand the Hasmonean state (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 72–74). This indicates that the Seleucid monarchs limited Hyrcanus’ expansion of his state during much of his reign. His destruction of the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim helped to create a permanent division between the Jews and the Samaritans (Atkinson 2016; Regev 2013: 69–71). The text 4QTestimonia (4Q175, lines 21–27) has been associated with the reign of Hyrcanus. If correct, its denunciation of him as the “man of Belial” who defied the prophetic curse of Joshua 6:26 may refer to the construction of the Hasmonean palace at Jericho that dates to his reign and the deaths of his sons, Aristobulus and Antigonus (Eshel 2008: 63–89).

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, First Book of; Oniads; Parthians; Pharisees; Ptolemies; Seleucids; Testimonia (4Q175).

Hyrcanus II, John Hyrcanus II (76–67, 63–40 bce) was the youngest son of Alexander Jannaeus and Shelamzion/Salome Alexandra. He was a Pharisee like his mother and helped her reinstate the Pharisaic regulations that John Hyrcanus had abolished (Josephus, J.W. 1.109; Ant. 13.408). Hyrcanus II served as high priest during the entirety of Shelamzion’s nine-year reign and became king and high priest after her death (J.W. 1.109, 120; Ant. 13.408, 14.2), though his sibling, Aristobulus II, removed him from the throne three months later. Antipater, father of the future 353

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Jewish monarch Herod the Great, persuaded Hyrcanus II to make an alliance with Aretas III, king of the Nabatean Arabs, to regain power. Hyrcanus II and the Nabateans attacked Aristobulus II in Jerusalem and besieged him in the Jerusalem Temple Mount. The conflict interrupted the celebration of Passover (Ant. 14.4–53; see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule [II] [103–63 bce]). In 65 bce the Roman general Pompey sent his legate, M. Aemilius Scarus, to Syria to investigate the political situation there. When Scaurus heard of the fighting between Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, he traveled to Judea. Both siblings sent emissaries to request Roman assistance. Scaurus chose to support Aristobulus II and ordered Aretas to leave the country with his army (J.W. 1.127–137; Ant. 14.4–28). For reasons not clear in Josephus’ accounts, Aristobulus II fell out of favor with the Romans (Atkinson 2016). In 63 bce Pompey diverted his army from his planned invasion of Nabatea to help Hyrcanus II and his forces to regain power, taking Aristobulus II into custody and besieging his partisans in the Temple Mount for three months (see Map 9: Decline of Hasmonean Rule and Roman Presence [63–43 bce]). Pompey took Aristobulus II and his family to Rome and reinstated Hyrcanus II as high priest (J.W. 1.138–154; Ant. 14.54–79). However, Pompey ended the Hasmonean state when he refused to let Hyrcanus II rule as king, placing the country under the jurisdiction of the Roman governor of Syria (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 98–102; Regev 2013: 161–65). Hyrcanus II revived his political career following the 48 bce death of Pompey at Pharsalos during his war with Julius Caesar. When Caesar traveled to Egypt to fight Pompey’s remaining partisans, Hyrcanus II provided him with military assistance. In gratitude, Caesar bestowed upon him the title of ethnarch (J.W. 1.199–200; Ant. 14.137, 200–01; Atkinson 2016). Hyrcanus II later clashed with Herod, whom he had charged with murder for his suppression of Jewish bandits in the Galilee. In 40 bce the Parthians captured Jerusalem and installed Antigonus, son of Aristobulus II, as king. Antigonus cut off Hyrcanus’ ears to render him unfit to serve as high priest (J.W. 1.269–270 Ant. 14.366, 15.17), and the Parthians took Hyrcanus II into exile in Babylon (J.W. 1.273; Ant. 15.14–5). In 37 bce, shortly after he became king, Herod allowed Hyrcanus II to return to Jerusalem. Herod executed him in 30 bce to prevent the Roman emperor Octavian from appointing him king and restoring the Hasmonean family to power (J.W. 1.431–34; Ant. 15.164–182). Josephus is our major source for Hyrcanus II’s reign and the tumultuous events of his life, particularly his struggle for power with Aristobulus II (J.W. 1.120–158; Ant. 14.4–79). Josephus’ portrayals of Hyrcanus II differ in his two books. His more negative assessment of Hyrcanus II in the Jewish War is likely the result of his reliance on the writings of pro-Herodian historian Nicolaus of Damascus (Atkinson 2016). The Jewish Antiquities is more pro-Hasmonean and likely reflects Josephus’ views of him more accurately. Hyrcanus II is mentioned in a Qumran text (4Q332 2.6) and in the Geography (see Ant. 14.139) of Strabo (Atkinson 2016). His Hebrew name is unknown.

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Maccabees, First Book of; Oniads; Parthians; Pharisees; Priesthood; Ptolemies; Roman Generals; Seleucids; Testimonia (4Q175).

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Idols and Images The biblical rejection and mockery of human-made images of gods (e.g. Exod 20:4; Lev 19:4; 26:1; Deut 5:8–9) is assumed in Second Temple Jewish literature and interpreted in a variety of ways. Figurative images (of humans and animals) are also avoided, but not all Jews at all times and places held to a strict aniconism (see, e.g., Josephus, Life 64–68 and Ehrenkrook 2011). The Jews’ avoidance of idolatry was socially, economically, and politically costly, especially during the Antiochene crisis (Dan 9:27; 11:31; 12:11; 1 Macc 1:43, 54; 4 Macc 5:2). Additionally, some texts apparently address the fact that some Jews were tempted to idolatry by its alluring power (e.g. Ep Jer 3–6, cf. Pseudo-Philo’s LAB 12:2; 2 Macc 12:39–42). Besides passages against idolatry within larger literary works (notably Dan 2; Jos. Asen. 2–3, 9–13; Jub. 11–12, 20, 22; Let. Aris. 134–138; 1QpHab vi 3–5; 11QTa li 19–lii 3, liv 8–lvi 4; Sib. Or. 3.3–38, 4.4–34; 5.75–85; Wis 13–15; Philo, Decal. 52–81; T. Job 2–5; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.73–78, 190–192), there are texts dedicated entirely to the topic (Bel and the Dragon, Epistle of Jeremiah), and in others the problem is a major theme (LAB, Apoc. Ab.). Echoing biblical language and themes, idols are dead, dumb, deaf, and lifeless, “works of hands,” abominations, insubstantial, vanities (the meaning of the Septuagintal word εἴδωλον, (eidōlon, on which see Hayward 2007). Idols are perverse because they are created, not the creator, who is invisible and indescribable, and because human beings are themselves superior to dead idols (Wis 15:17; Sib. Or. 3.8–38; Apoc. Ab. 3–4). In a few texts a human being is the legitimate cultic image of God (cf. Gen 1:26–28), receiving a kind of worship (Sir 50; LAE 12–16; 2 En. 57, 64; cf. Dan 2:46, see Fletcher-Louis 2015). Idolatry dehumanizes (see esp. Jub. 22:17–18; Philo, Decal. 73–74, 80, cf. Pss 115:3–8, 135:15–18). Creative responses to the Greco-Roman world and to Egyptian religion develop biblical teaching. Some texts explain the motivation for idolatry (esp. Wis 14; see Bergmann 2006). In particular, idols are demonically inspired or empowered (Jub. 11:4; 22:17; 1 En. 99:7; PseudoPhilo’s LAB 25:9; Apoc. Ab. 26:3, cf. 1 Cor 10:20). Some texts challenge the specific forms that Greco-Roman idolatry takes (e.g. Let. Aris. 135–137; Wis 14), others reject the worship of living creatures distinctive of native Egyptian religion (see Let. Aris. 138; Bel and Dragon 23–27; Wis 15:18–19; Philo, Decal. 76–80). In others there is an apologetic appeal to Hellenistic philosophy and its own critique of popular religion (Letter of Aristeas, Wisdom of Solomon, Philo, Josephus; cf. Tromp 1995; Pearce 2013; Ehrenkrook 2011). Throughout the period, especially under imperial Roman rule, Jews had to respond to the worship of rulers. The ubiquitous images of the living emperor, as well as those of dead and deified ones, received honors equivalent to those given to the gods. Herod the Great sponsored emperor worship abroad, and in Palestine he built temples containing imperial images in Caesarea Maritima, Panias, and Samaria (Bernett 2007). But imperial images were viewed as idolatrous by a majority, and attempts to introduce them into Jewish sacred spaces, especially in Judea, were strongly resisted (see Josephus, Ant. 15.267–280, 328–341; 18.55–59, 121, 256–309; 19.299–311; J.W. 2.169–174, 184–203; Philo, Legat. and Flacc.). Some Jews insisted on respect for the idols of the nations (see Philo, Mos. 2.205 and Josephus, Ant. 4.207 on LXX Exod 22:28). But eschatological scenarios variously envisage the abandonment or destruction of idols, whether by God’s direct intervention or through the agency of the righteous, and the conversion or destruction of idolaters (Tob 14:6; Jub. 22:22;

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Wis 14:11; T. Mos. 10:7; Sib. Or. 3.715–24; 5.492–500, cf. Zech 13:1–2). Liberationist movements sometimes acted to fulfill the hoped-for destruction of idols (e.g. 1 Macc 5:68; see Fuks 1961 on the 115–117 ce revolt in North Africa).

Bibliography C. D. Bergmann, “Idol Worship in Bel and the Dragon and Other Jewish Literature from the Second Temple Period,” in Septuagint Research: Issues and Challenges in the Study of the Greek Jewish Scriptures, ed. W. Kraus and R. G. Wooden, SCS 53 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2006), 207–23. J. von Ehrenkrook, Sculpting Idolatry in Flavian Rome: (An)iconic Rhetoric in the Writings of Flavius Josephus, SBLJL 33 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011). C. H. T. Fletcher-Louis, Jesus Monotheism. Volume 1. Christological Origins: The Emerging Consensus and Beyond (Eugene: Wipf & Stock; Toddington: Whymanity, 2015). A. Fuks, “Aspects of the Jewish Revolt in AD 115-117,” JRS 51 (1961): 98–104. D. C. Harlow, “Idolatry and Alterity: Israel and the Nations in the Apocalypse of Abraham,” in The “Other” in Second Temple Judaism: Essays in Honor of John J. Collins, ed. K. M. H. Daniel, D. C. Harlow, and M. Goff (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 302–30. R. Hayward, “Observations on Idols in Septuagint Pentateuch,” in Idolatry, ed. S. C. Barton (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 40–57. S. Pearce, “Philo of Alexandria on the Second Commandment,” in The Image and Its Prohibition in Jewish Antiquity (Oxford: Journal of Jewish Studies, 2013), 49–76. J. Tromp, “The Critique of Idolatry in the Context of Jewish Monotheism,” in Aspects of Religious Contact and Conflict in the Ancient World, ed. P. W. van der Horst (Utrecht: Theological Faculty of the University of Utrecht, 1995), 105–20. CRISPIN H. T. FLETCHER-LOUIS

Related entries: Abraham, Apocalypse of; Apologetic Literature; Caesarea Philippi; Daniel, Additions to; Daniel, Book of; Emperor Cult; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Hellenism and Hellenization; Imperial Cult, Jews and the; Judgment; Philo of Alexandria; Worship.

Idumea Idumea is best known as the ancestral homeland of the family of Herod the Great and as the successor in the Second Temple period of Edom, the land Genesis 32:3 connects to Esau. By Josephus’ time Idumeans had moved and Idumea was west of both the Dead Sea and biblical Edom, which had been to the Sea’s east. It extended south to the Negev, southeast to Masada, and west almost to Gaza (de Lange 1992). Idumea’s political history parallels Judea’s. During the period of the First Jerusalem Temple, Idumea, like Judah and Israel, had its own kings (Josephus, Ant. 8.200). It was later part of the Persian empire, although it is not clear whether it was within the province of Yehud (Grabbe 1992; Kochman 1981). After Alexander’s conquests in the 4th century bce Idumea, like Judea, was governed by the Ptolemies of Egypt and then by the Seleucids. Idumea sided with the Seleucids against the Hasmonean rebels (2 Macc 10:14). The Hasmonean ruler John Hyrcanus conquered Idumea in the late 2nd century bce and his son Alexander Jannaeus appointed an Idumean, Herod’s grandfather Antipas I, as its governor. Idumea was included in Pompey’s Roman conquest in 63 bce (see Map 9: Decline of Hasmonean Rule and Roman Presence [63–43 bce]). When Augustus made Herod King of Judea after the end of the Hasmonean dynasty, Idumea was part of his domain; it was part of Archelaus’ ethnarchy 356

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after Herod died. Finally, in 4 bce, Idumea, Samaritis, and Judea proper became the directly ruled Roman province of Judea. Idumea’s economy was agrarian and pastoral, although scholars since Launey (1950), including Gihon (1967), have claimed (based on Josephus, Ant. 17.269 and J.W. 2.76) that many Idumeans were soldiers. The Hasmonean conquest is usually described as the “conversion” of Idumeans to Judaism, with emphasis on circumcision (earlier, Idumeans worshiped a god named Koze; Ant. 15.253). Josephus (in one place) and Ptolemy the Historian suggest that the conversion and circumcision were forcible (Ant. 15.254; Stern 1974–1984), while Josephus elsewhere and Strabo suggest that the conversion was voluntary (Ant. 13.257–58, 15.255; Stern 1974–1984). Most scholars accept Ptolemy’s version, often attributing it to Josephus; some infer a gradual voluntary adoption of Judean ways and claim that Idumeans already practiced circumcision (Cohen 1999).

Bibliography M. Gihon, “Idumea and the Herodian Limes,” IEJ 17.1 (1967): 27–42. M. Kochman, “Status and Territory of ‘Yehud Medinta’ in  the Persian Period” (diss., The Hebrew University, 1981). N. de Lange, Atlas of the Jewish World (New York: Facts on File, 1992). M. Launey, Recherches sur les armees hellenistique (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1950). ALAN APPELBAUM

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Masada, History of; Military, Jews in the; Revolt, Maccabean.

Imperial Cult, Jews and the The development of the cult for the Roman emperor and his house belongs to a phase of political transformation from republic to autocracy. After the battle of Actium in 31 bce, victors and survivors had to integrate anew, both socially and politically. In particular, the imperial cult became a symbolic field of interaction between the Roman center and its periphery. With the emperor and his house, Roman supremacy was symbolically represented through ritual acts, prayers, sacrifices, feasts, and embassies, though without replacing direct interaction between Rome and the subjects of its empire. All those who acted as agents in implementing the imperial cult did so to mark and compete for status-positions in the empire. As a result, the cult not only functioned to enhance Roman rule from the top but also helped to secure civic order and advance the careers of its agents in the provinces (Price 1984; cf. also Clauss 2001; Witschel 2008; Frija 2010). Within this context, both Jews who were organizing as religious civic associations throughout the empire and Jewish rulers in Judea itself found themselves having to respond to the religiously charged language of power and status of the imperial cult. Herod the Great’s reign over Judea (40–4 bce) marked a dynastic change that was closely connected to political transformations in Rome. Herod, a new ruler who was allied with the princeps Caesar Augustus, was confronted by enormous inner-Judaic challenges. He quickly established three imperial cults in his territory, two at the cities of Sebaste (27 bce) and Caesarea Maritima (23 bce) that were re-founded with high expenses (monumental temples, periodical games), and then a few years later a temple at an old cult place for Pan at the 357

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sources of the Jordan (Paneion, later Caesarea Philippi). In this way, Herod secured Augustus’ support for him as ruler while, at the same time, signaling his own steady acceptance of Roman supremacy over Judea (cf. Bernett 2007: 146–67; Kropp 2009). In all this, Herod was careful not to provoke against Jewish sensibilities, as the three temple cults were situated not in Judea proper but in territories with Greek-Syrian majorities. Under Herod’s political heirs, imperial cult activities were continued: they re-founded a number of cities in honor of the imperial house (Autokratoris, Tiberias, Caesarea [Paneas], Livias, Iulias, Neronias), minted coins influenced by the symbolic language of the imperial cult, and established imperial games at Caesarea Philippi and Tiberias. After Judea’s provincialization in 6 ce, the personal-dynastic symbolic dialogue of acceptance was replaced by the priestly elite with a special sacrificial ritual at the Jerusalem Temple (twice a day for the well-being of the emperor, his house, and the Roman people), a political gesture in a religious context acknowledged by Rome to be a sufficient expression of its supremacy (with the exception of Gaius Caligula, see below). The imperial sacrifice at Jerusalem was maintained until the beginning of the Jewish War in 66 ce, when it was deliberately discontinued as message of revolt against Roman rule in Judea. Local conflicts relating to the imperial cult are mentioned in the sources, between Jewish associations, Roman magistrates, and citizens of Greek descent, especially in Alexandria and in the cities of Asia Minor and Syria including Judea (Andrade 2010). An exemption of the imperial cult for Jews did not exist, simply because the participation was not compulsory or ordained law. Main debated issues were the participation in the cult, the reverence of the imperial image, and the forms of visualized loyalty toward the imperial house (compare Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.73). A peak was reached in 40/41 ce, with emperor Gaius’ order to Syria’s legate Petronius to place a costly statue of Gaius in Jerusalem’s Temple as “the new Zeus made manifest” (Zeus Epiphanes Neos), thereby including Zeus-Gaius’ cult as a “temple-sharing deity” (σύνναος θεός, synnaos theos). An open outbreak of violence was hampered only by Gaius’ murder (Josephus, Ant. 18.55–59; J.W. 2.169–174 [conflicts under Pontius Pilate]; Josephus, Ant. 18.121 [incident with Vitellius]; Philo, Legat. 30.200–203 [incident at Yavneh]; Josephus, Ant. 19.300–311 [incident at Dora]; Philo, Legat. passim, esp. 188, 207–208, 220, 233, 238, 260, 265, 292, 306, 333; Josephus, Ant. 18.261–309; J.W. 2.184–203; Tacitus, Hist. 5.9.2 [Temple-statue affair under Gaius]). Even when Claudius, in the aftermath of this affair, had strengthened Jewish associations’ religious privileges in Greek cities in Syria and Asia Minor, the practice of the imperial cult in Judea-Palestine and the sacrifice for the well-being of the emperor at the Jerusalem Temple seem to have contributed to polarization between Jewish groups and pagan groups. Since ca. 100 bce there can be observed in this region new Jewish cultural practices which combined certain approaches and values, above all regarding cultic purity (Regev 2000; Berlin 2011). The practice of the imperial cult can be seen as an influential element in this long-standing process of defining self and others in Judaism and Paganism. The imperial cult as a triggering factor in the prehistory of the Great Revolts in Judea (66–74 and 132–135 ce) is a controversial matter in research. Whereas some deny any influence on the political or religious history in Judea during that period (McLaren 2011; Mason 2014), others identify direct or side effects on anti-Roman dispositions and movements (e.g. Bernett 2007; Andrade 2010; Perdue and Carter 2015: 235–41). Ideas and intents of political liberation and religious redemption could have drawn upon the omnipresence of the imperial image and the 358

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ritual acknowledgment of a ruler overall visualized as a god. In the years leading up to the Jewish War, anti-Roman groups marginalized by Josephus as “Fourth Philosophy” could have recruited followers among Judean Jews who were concerned about religious purity and holiness due to the offense of the presence and practice of the imperial cult in the “Holy Land.” In 132 ce, the Bar Kokhba revolt could have been triggered by Hadrian’s foundation of Colonia Aelia Capitolina in Jerusalem combined with a cult for Jupiter (and Hadrian) at the former place of the Jerusalem Temple.

Bibliography N. Andrade, “Ambiguity, Violence, and Community in the Cities of Judaea and Syria,” Historia 59 (2010): 342–70. A. Berlin,“Identity Politics in Early Roman Galilee,” in The Jewish Revolt against Rome, ed. M. Popović (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 69–106. M. Clauss, Kaiser und Gott. Herrscherkult im römischen Reich, 2nd ed. (Munich: Saur, 2001). G. Frija, “Du prêtre du roi au prêtre de Rome et au grand prêtre d’Auguste: la mise en place du culte impérial civique,” in  Des rois au prince, ed. I. Savalli-Lestrade and I. Cogitore (Grenoble: ELLUG, 2010), 291–310. A. Kropp, “King—Caesar—God. Roman Imperial Cult among near Eastern ‘Client’ Kings in the JulioClaudian Period,” in  Lokale Identität im Römischen Nahen Osten, ed. M. Blömer (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2009), 99–150. S. Mason, “Why Did Judeans Go to War with Rome in 66/67 CE? Realistic-Regional Perspectives,” in Jews and Christians in the First and Second Centuries, ed. P. J. Tomson and J. Schwartz (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 126–206. J. S. McLaren, “Searching for Rome and the Imperial Cult in Galilee: Re-Assessing Galilee-Rome Relations (63 B.C.E. to 70 C.E.),” in Rome and Religion: A Cross-Disciplinary Dialogue on the Imperial Cult, ed. J. Brodd and J. L. Reed (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 111–36. L. G. Perdue and W. Carter, Israel and Empire: A Postcolonial History of Israel and Early Judaism (London: T&T Clark, 2015). E. Regev, “Non-Priestly Purity and Its Religious Aspects According to Historical Sources and Archaeological Findings,” in Purity and Holiness. The Heritage of Leviticus, ed. M. J. Poorthuis and J. Schwartz (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 223–44. C. Witschel, “Die Wahrnehmung des Augustus in Gallien, im Illyricum und in den Nordprovinzen des römischen Reiches,” in Augustus—Der Blick von außen. Die Wahrnehmung des Kaisers in den Provinzen des Reiches und in den Nachbarstaaten, ed. D. Kreikenbom (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2008), 41–120. MONIKA BERNETT

Related entries: Emperor Cult; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Purification and Purity; Resistance Movements; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Religion(s); Romanization; Sacrifices and Offerings.

Inscriptions Inscriptions from the realm of Second Temple Judaism, which are here treated separately from texts written on papyrus, parchment, and coins, were written in Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and to a minor degree in other languages, such as Latin or Nabatean. The bulk of the material comes from Palestine and dates to the last century before the Jewish War, consisting mainly of burial inscriptions. This applies especially to the Jerusalem area, where more than 600 359

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inscribed ossuaries were found outside the city area, along with some funerary inscriptions on tomb walls. A small number of building inscriptions have been found that were either attached to Jewish synagogues, such as the Theodotos inscription (CIIP 9), or that had been placed in the realm of the Jerusalem Temple Mount: two nearly identical copies of a Greek inscription warned gentiles not to enter the “forecourt” of the Temple (CIIP 2–3). A limestone plaque inscribed with Greek letters (ca. 17 bce) reports a donation to Herod’s Temple (CIIP 3). A stone inscribed in Hebrew marked the spot where the trumpet was blown at the top of the Temple Mount wall ([...]‫לבית התקיעה להכ‬, lbyt htqyʿh lhk[…] “for the place of trumpeting, to an[nounce],” CIIP 5). The handle of a limestone vessel, inscribed with the Hebrew word ‫קרבן‬, qrbn, “sacrifice” and with drawings of birds, indicates that it was used for the sacrificial offerings on the Temple Mount (CIIP 8). In 2011, a small tin artifact, dated to the 1st century ce, was unearthed from the soil covering the Western Wall, inscribed with the Aramaic words: ‫דכא ליה‬, dkʾ lyh, “pure for YH” (Figure 4.57). It may have been put on objects designated to be used in the Temple. Stamped jar handles with administrative seals declared goods delivered as taxes to the regional authorities. During the 6th–4th centuries bce, these stamp impressions have the letters ‫יהוד‬, yhwd, “Yehud” together with personal names or titles of officials. Later, only the abbreviated names, ‫יהד‬, yhd, or ‫יה‬, yh, were used, and stamp impressions in Paleo-Hebrew script appeared (Lipschits and Vanderhooft 2011), sometimes with the impression ‫ירושׁלים‬, yrwšlym (Bocher and Lipschits 2013). Some ostraca in Aramaic script found in Jerusalem are accounts of commodities, such as grain, olives, or oil (CIIP 611), and some served as scribal exercises (CIIP 619, 622) or letters (CIIP 621). Some preserve lists of payments, such as the Aramaic ostracon from Pisgat Zeʾev (1st cent. bce) that accounts payments to a watchman, a horseman, and two ‫כרמה‬, krmh, “vineyard” or “vineyard-worker” (cf. Matt 20:1–7; CIIP 620). The destruction layers of Masada have preserved some 700 inscriptions, mostly ostraca written in Hebrew or Aramaic, but also some in Greek and Latin. They testify to the wide use of writing for all kind of purposes: tags with letters or names, lists of names, “lots” (probably to indicate food allowances), priestly shares, names of owners (mostly on jars), content (mostly

Figure 4.57  A “voucher” certifying the ritual purity of an object or food. Photo Clara Amit, Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

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Inscriptions

on storage vessels), and letters (Yadin and Naveh 1989: 5). More than 280 tags have letters with ink mostly in Hebrew, some in Paleo-Hebrew, and some in Greek. More than 70 tags have specific names. For instance, ten tags have the name ‫יהוחנן‬, yhwḥnn, the Paleo-Hebrew letter yod, and the Greek letter A, sometimes with numbers and signs in addition; perhaps these served as vouchers bearing the names of units or commanders (Yadin and Naveh 1989: 18). Ostraca with lists of names and singular ostraca with names (“lots”) from Masada reveal the widespread habit of nicknames, such as ‫ישׁוע גירא‬, yšwʿ gyrʾ, “Yeshua the Proselyte” (no. 420), ‫מלתא‬, mltʾ “the word” (no. 438), or ‫בן כנבון‬, bn knbwn, “son of round cake” (no. 430). Many storage jars bear the names of their owners, such as ‫שׁמעון‬, šmʿwn “Shimeon,” ‫יהודה‬, yhwdh, “Judah,” or ‫יעקוב‬, yʿqwb, “Jacob,” while others point to their content. The small number of Greek inscriptions (ca. 20) used by Jews served the same purpose as the Aramaic and Hebrew inscriptions described above. Several ostraca from Masada and the nearby Wadi Murabbaʿat are writing exercises (ibid. pl. 51), as is likewise an abecedary from Qumran (Eshel 2000). Nearly 400 Samaritan inscriptions were found on Mount Gerizim, dating to the 3rd–2nd centuries bce. Most of them are of a private character, written in Aramaic with offering formulas, such as ‫ על נפשׁה על אנתתא ועל בנוהי לדכרן טב קדם אלהא באתרא דנה‬... ‫ מן‬... ‫הקרב בר‬, hqrb br … mn … ʿl npšh ʿl ʾnttʾ wʿl bnwhy ldkrn ṭb qdm ʾlhʾ bʾtrʾ dnh, “that …, son of …, from …, offered for himself, his wife, and his sons for good remembrance before God in this place” (Dušek 2012: 5–6). Two fragmentary Aramaic inscriptions have been found in Galilee. An ostracon, dating before 67 ce, reads the first two letters ‫אב‬, ʾb, of an alphabet, and a fragment of a cooking pot, dated to the 1st–2nd centuries ce, was used as an abecedary, revealing the letters ‫( בגד‬bgd). Other inscriptions on items of daily life (weights, vessels, mosaics, etc.) from Galilee are in Greek (Charlesworth 2016). The few pre-70 ce inscriptions from the coast are mainly in Greek. Aramaic ostraca (and some wooden boards) from the Jewish community of Elephantine served as letters (short instructions dealing with everyday matters), accounts, lists, and abecedaries, dating from the 5th–2nd centuries bce (Porten and Yardeni 1999). Although literacy was a privilege of the upper class, and writing of administrative documents belonged largely into the hands of trained scribes, the ability to write and especially to read was at times more widespread. This is obvious from many inscriptions that bear witness to reading ability in everyday life, such as weights, coins, all kinds of vessels, ostraca, letters, and public warning messages; cf. also John 19:20: “Many of the Jews read this inscription (τίτλον)” (CIIP 15). Because inscriptions are closely related to other texts by commonalities of script, language, form, and content, they can provide information on many aspects of everyday life, and sometimes also on administrative details, which are scarcely known from the Jewish literature of the Second Temple period.

Bibliography S. D. Charlesworth, “The Use of Greek in Early Roman Galilee: The Inscriptional Evidence Re-examined,” JSNT 38 (2016): 356–95. MARTIN HEIDE

Related entries: Burial Practices; Masada, Archaeology of; Names and Naming; Revolt, First Jewish; Sacrifices and Offerings; Scripts and Scribal Practice; Seals and Seal Impressions; Stone Vessels; Writing. 361

Intermarriage

Intermarriage With the loss of Jerusalem Temple, homeland, and autonomy, intermarriage became an important issue for many Jews in Second Temple times. The prohibitions of marriage with non-Israelites in the Torah functioned as a significant marker of socioreligious identity. Deuteronomy prohibits Israel from intermarriage with seven indigenous peoples of the Land of Canaan due to their idolatry (Deut 7:1–6; cf. Exod 34:15–16) and restricts the children of marriages between members of Israel and those of the surrounding nations of Edom, Moab, Ammon, and Egypt from joining the assembly for a specified number of generations (Deut 23:3–8). Nevertheless, a gentile residing in the land who takes on minimal requirements may remain within Israelite society and must be treated fairly (Lev 16:29; 17:8–15; 18:26; 19:33–34; 24:16; Deut 10:19). In this vein, Deuteronomy describes a process whereby an Israelite may marry a Canaanite war captive (Deut 21:10–14). Also, biblical narratives reveal that some Israelites, even Moses, married non-Israelites (Num 12:1; Ruth 4:10). In the Priestly texts there is no blanket prohibition of intermarriage based on genealogy, except for the high priest, who must marry a virgin “of his own kin” (Lev 22:14). After the exile, a strong tendency to segregate and isolate Jews from non-Jews took hold. Ezra-Nehemiah, which dates back to at least the 4th century bce, rejects intermarriage based on the notion that Israel is zera‘ ha-qodesh, “holy seed,” and any admixture results in ma‘al, “sacrilege” (Ezra 9:1–2; cf. Mal 2:11). This concept of Israel as a cultic sanctum continues in several Second Temple texts (cf. Mal 2:11; ALD 6:4 col. a 17–18). For the writer of Jubilees (2nd cent. bce), Israel may not intermarry with gentiles because she is holy by election and race, even on a par with angels (2:17–24). Unlike Genesis, the writer of Jubilees commends Simeon and Levi who destroyed the city of Shechem to prevent the marriage of their raped sister, Dinah, to a non-Israelite (Jub. 30:7–17; Gen 34:13–30; cf. Jdt 9:2). Several authors interpret the Levitical prohibition on giving one’s seed to Molekh, an act of child sacrifice, with giving a child to a gentile in marriage (Lev 18:21 and 20:1–5; cf. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan Lev 18:21; Jub. 30:10; cf. also rejection of intermarriage in Greek Esther, addition C, 14:15; Tob 4:12). The Dead Sea Scrolls found near Qumran nowhere endorse intermarriage. One arguable passage is found in the Temple Scroll, which follows Deuteronomy 21:10–14 in allowing a war captive as a bride; at the same time, the author cautions that she may not touch her husband’s food for seven years, in effect, neutralizing the possibility of intermarriage. Miqṣat Maʿaseh Ha-Torah (4QMMT), another Qumran text, continues the holy seed concept of EzraNehemiah and bans intermarriage on account of the holiness of Israel (MMT B 75–82; cf. Hayes 2002: 82–91). The author regards intermarriage as a form of hybridism like the Torah’s illicit mixtures of seed, fabrics, and animals (Lev 19:19; cf. also 4Q542 1 i 5–6a; 1 En. 10:9; Himmelfarb 1999). Some writers emphasize the moral rather than the endogamous concern attached to intermarriage. Philo and Josephus reiterate the Torah’s warning that the idolatrous partner will influence the Jew to sin (Spec. Laws 3:29; Ant. 8.191–92; cf. Deut 7:2–3). On the other hand, some writers go so far as to allow the possibility of conversion to Judaism (cf. Cohen 1999: 109–39; Hayes 2002: 78, who cites Joseph and Aseneth, as well as Theodotus). This emerging concept was not without its detractors since for most Jews intermarriage was out of the question. The Testament of Levi, e.g., accuses the priesthood of “taking Gentile women as

362

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wives and purifying them with a form of purification contrary to the law” (T. Levi 14:6). By the rabbinic period, however, a formal procedure for conversion was adopted, and all Jews except priests were allowed to marry proselytes.

Bibliography M. Himmelfarb, “Levi, Phinehas, and the Problem of Intermarriage at the Time of the Maccabean Revolt,” JSQ 6 (1999): 1–24. HANNAH K. HARRINGTON

Related entries: Celibacy; Conversion and Proselytism; Deuteronomy, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Family; Genealogies; Holiness; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Marriage and Divorce; Nehemiah, Book of; Sexuality.

Ioudaios Ioudaios (᾽Ιουδαῖος, pl. Ioudaioi): This single Greek word served in antiquity, whether as an adjective or a substantive, to denote that for which English has two separate words: Judean and Jew(ish). In English there is a clear distinction between “Judeans,” which relates to the ancient country called Judea (so “Judean mountains” are in Judea and “a Judean” is someone who lived in Judea or was from Judea), and “Jew,” which denotes people who still exist and are defined by their descent and/or by their attachment to the Jewish religion, “Judaism.” The fact that ancient Greek texts use one such word, Ioudaios, while modern scholars writing about antiquity must choose between “Jew” and “Judean,” creates challenging issues for those who would write in English about the Ioudaioi of antiquity. Until the 1960s there was virtually no discussion of these issues, and “Jew” was the standard term used in scholarly and non-scholarly discussions of the Second Temple period. Since then there has been intensive debate, and recently “Judean” has become popular (cf. Mason 2007). Whatever the modern impulses that engendered this debate—though among them is certainly a post-Holocaust desire to redirect New Testament hostility away from “Jews”, who still exist— two points seem clear. First, all agree that the Judeans eventually disappeared; at some point in ancient history, one must speak of “Jews” rather than “Judeans” (S. Schwartz 2011). When and why that happened, however, is a matter of debate. Some would focus on the diaspora in the Second Temple period as having fostered a non-Judean way of being a Ioudaios (Cohen 1999: 109–39), whereas others place the transformation later, in the wake of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce, the destruction of Jewish Judea in the Bar Kokhba war and Rome’s change of “Judea” into “Syria Palaestina” in the 2nd century, or as part of the process in which “Judaism” becomes defined over against “Christianity” (S. Schwartz 2011; cf. D. Schwartz 2014: 62–82). Second, it seems clear that, already in the Second Temple period, there are some passages and contexts in which “Judean” is appropriate, but others in which “Jew” is. Sometimes the geographical sense is quite explicit, as in a text cited by Josephus in which Aristotle explains that Ioudaia (Judea) is a region of Syria and the Ioudaioi “take their name from the place” (Ag. Ap. 1.179). Other times it is implicit but nonetheless clear, such as in a passage in which Josephus, after mentioning a Roman census of “Judea,” goes on to refer to it as assessing “their”

363

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property (Ant. 18.2). Such a formulation assumes that the people in question are defined by their country. Moreover, beyond issues of translation, it seems that when historians come to discuss ancient developments that pertain mostly to the land, such as revolts that attempted to end foreign rule and establish a sovereign state, “Judean” is more appropriate. Thus, e.g., if the Romans fought a war in Judea but at the same time protected Ioudaioi around the empire since they did not join the rebellion, it makes sense to term that war “the Judean war.” However, by the same token it makes sense to designate those Ioudaioi around the empire “Jews,” not “Judeans.” Indeed, that is often clearly the case, especially with regard to Ioudaioi of the diaspora. In Alexandria, e.g., where, in the Roman period, Ioudaioi were faced by antiSemites who claimed the Ioudaioi were not Alexandrians, it would have been counterproductive, for the Ioudaioi, to be understood as Judeans; they wanted to be considered Alexandrians of Jewish religion and descent. But the same can apply to Judea as well. Josephus, e.g., repeatedly writes about schools of thought (“sects”) among the Ioudaioi, which differ among themselves concerning beliefs about such issues as fate versus free will and whether the soul is immortal— but those are issues that pertain to religious belief and hence to what moderns call “Judaism,” and in English it is “Jews” that are associated with Judaism. Similarly, when 2 Maccabees (which refers to “Judaism” several times: 2:21; 8:1; 14:38) reports at 6:6 that “there was no way to keep the Sabbath or to observe the ancestral festivals, or even to admit to being a Ioudaios,” it is obvious that the last clause is meant to culminate and intensify the preceding details: not only was it forbidden to do things required by the Jewish religion, it was even forbidden to admit to being a Ioudaios. To make sense, the latter must refer to an adherent of the Jewish religion, which in English means “Jew.” The same goes for the statement the author attributes to Antiochus IV Epiphanes a few chapters later (9:17), that he will become an Ioudaios and proclaim the Jewish God throughout the world. Given the religious nature of the activity, the English translation that is appropriate is “Jew” (D. Schwartz 2014: 3–10). It therefore seems that each appearance of Ioudaios must be assessed separately, and, now that the issue has been raised, the debate has fostered much fruitful work.

Bibliography S. Schwartz, “How Many Judaisms Were There? A Critique of Neusner and Smith on Definition and Mason and Boyarin on Categorization,” JAJ 2 (2011): 208–38. DANIEL R. SCHWARTZ

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, Second Book of; People of the Land (ʿAm ha-ʾAreṣ); Persecution, Religious; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish.

Isaac The biblical story of Isaac winds its way from Genesis 17—the first announcement of Isaac’s birth as the son promised to Abraham through Sarah, the firstborn and only son of his mother, though not of his father—to Genesis 35, the notice of his death, and of his burial by Jacob and Esau. The main character in the earlier chapters is Abraham, Isaac’s father; from Genesis 28 forward, the main protagonist is Jacob, Isaac’s son. In Genesis 24–27, Isaac comes more into the spotlight, through his marriage to Rebecca, his dealings with Abimelech, king of the Philistines,

364

Isaac

and the parenting challenges presented by his two grown sons. The last major episode in the Isaac saga tells of his blessing of Jacob and Esau, and of Jacob famously “stealing” Esau’s birthright. Although Isaac again seems to be a helpless victim, later readers would infer that he was aware of Jacob’s identity and intentionally gave him the blessings of prosperity and dominion intended for Esau. In the remainder of the biblical books, Isaac is the middle member of the “covenantal triad”—Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—the three ancestors of the people Israel: those with whom God himself made eternal covenants, guarantors of God’s promise of land and descendants (e.g. Exod 2:24; 3:6; Deut 6:10; Jer 33:25–26; Ps 105:9–10). Of the various biblical accounts that involve Isaac, the most important episode for Second Temple literature is that of his near-sacrifice at the hands of his father (Genesis 22), known in later Jewish tradition as the Binding (Aqedah) of Isaac. God “tests” Abraham by commanding him to sacrifice this bn yḥyd (‫בן יחיד‬, “only son, darling one”) as a burnt offering (cf. Fitzmyer 2002). The focus of the episode is on Abraham’s alacrity in obeying God’s command; Isaac takes an active role only in Gen 22:7–8, where he asks his father, “Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Abraham enigmatically replies that God will provide the lamb and the two walk on yḥd (‫יחד‬, “together, as one”). The biblical narrative, without commenting on Isaac’s thoughts, thus stresses the unity of father and son. Biblical tradition itself had indirectly linked the site of the narrative with the later location of the Jerusalem Temple and sacrificial cult (2 Chr 3:1). Jubilees 18 mostly recapitulates the Genesis narrative, though it adds a note making Isaac’s near-sacrifice the patriarchal institution of the Passover offering, and explicitly identifies the site of the sacrifice as “Mount Zion” (Jub. 18:13). However, other Second Temple retellings expand the dialogue between Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22:7–8 into a narrative of Isaac’s own recognition of the situation and acceptance of his fate. A document found at Qumran, Pseudo-Jubilees (4Q225), though fragmentary, includes a line that records Isaac’s response to Abraham’s statement about the lamb and seems to represent Isaac’s consent to his father’s project. This 1st-century bce account has a number of features in common with the later Palestinian targumic tradition, which itself includes Isaac’s request to his father to “bind me well,” lest he struggle and invalidate the sacrifice (Fitzmyer 2002: 215–18, 227–29; cf. also García Martínez 2002). Philo of Alexandria casts both Abraham and Isaac as “Stoic heroes” (see Abr. 167–207). Though the main focus is on Abraham, unswayed by emotions, Isaac also emerges as a lofty character, if a relatively silent fellow traveler. Josephus, however, portrays Isaac as a joyful and voluntary consenter to and participant in his own sacrificial death. In Josephus’ account, the father explains to the son why this sacrifice is necessary; the son is pleased with the father’s speech and immediately goes to the altar (Ant. 1.230–232). Josephus links the act to the future Temple site and emphasizes the obedient piety of both actors. Pseudo-Philo (late 1st cent. ce) alludes to the Aqedah three times—though not at the point in the narrative that relates the story of Abraham. The first allusion occurs in God’s speech to Balaam the prophet, who is called to curse the Israelites, but is able only to bless them (LAB 18:4). Although the focus is on Abraham’s actions, the choice of the people Israel is “for the sake of his [Isaac’s] blood”; this phrase casts the event as (potentially) an actual sacrifice. In the other two allusions (the Song of Deborah, LAB 32:2–4, and the story of Jephthah’s daughter, LAB 40), the emphasis is on Isaac’s willingness to die, which serves as a redemptive model for others (Vermes 1973; Daly 1977). 365

Isaiah

Isaac appears more explicitly as a model for martyrdom in 4 Maccabees (1st to early 2nd cent. ce). The elder Eleazar is said to have used “the reasoning of Isaac” to face torture (4 Macc 7:14). The story of the seven brothers calls them at various points children of Abraham (e.g., 9:21, 17:6; 18:20–23), and their mother is like Abraham in her willingness to give them up (e.g., 14:20; 15:28). One of the brothers refers to Isaac as a model of willingness to be killed “for the sake of piety” (13:12). Here, as in Pseudo-Philo, the deaths on the model of Isaac have a redemptive function, providing atonement for the sins of Israel (17:21). The question of whether the Second Temple texts reviewed here anticipate the soteriological function that would accrue to Jesus’ death in the New Testament is vigorously debated. While some regard an atoning or redemptive presentation of Isaac as a part of Jewish tradition leading up to the Common Era (e.g., Daly 1977; Vermes 1973), others have thought that this association as found in rabbinic writings is actually a later development influenced by early Christian interpretations of Jesus’ death (Davies and Chilton 1978). The position one takes in such a discussion should be distinguished from statements made about Isaac in the New Testament writings, which do not associate him with any explicit Christological claims. Beyond traditions that place Isaac within the patriarchal lineage (Matt 1:2; Luke 3:34) or among the three patriarchs, together with Abraham and Jacob (e.g., Matt 8:11; 22:32; Mark 12:26; Luke 13:28; 20:37; Acts 3:13), emphasis is placed on his being Abraham’s child and recipient of divine promise (Rom 9:7; Gal 4:28; Heb 11:9, 17); if the sacrifice itself is mentioned, the focus is placed on the exemplarity of Abraham’s obedient faith (Heb 11:17; Jas 2:21; cf. Kessler 2004: 63–64, 79).

Bibliography R. J. Daly, “The Soteriological Significance of the Sacrifice of Isaac,” CBQ 39 (1977): 45–75. P. Davies and B. Chilton, “The Aqedah: A Revised Tradition History,” CBQ 40 (1978): 514–46. J. A. Fitzmyer, “The Sacrifice of Isaac in Qumran Literature,” Biblica 83 (2002): 211–29. F. García Martínez, “The Sacrifice of Isaac in 4Q225,” in The Sacrifice of Isaac: The Aqedah (Genesis 22) and Its Interpretations, ed. E. Noort and E. J. C. Tigchelaar, TBN 4 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 44–57. G. Vermes, “Redemption and Genesis 22: The Binding of Isaac and the Sacrifice of Jesus,” in Scripture and Tradition in Judaism: Haggadic Studies, 2nd ed. (Leiden: Brill, 1973), 193–227. RUTH A. CLEMENTS

Related entries: Aqedah; Covenant; Faith and Faithfulness; Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Sacrifices and Offerings.

Isaiah Introduction.  Isaiah is presented as a prophet in both the Hebrew Bible (2 Kgs 19:2; 20:1, 11, 14; 2 Chr 26:22; 32:20, 32; Isa 37:2; 38:1; 39:3) and a number of Second Temple writings (e.g. Sir 48:22; Matt 3:3 pars. Mark 1:2, Luke 3:4, John 1:23; Matt 4:14; 8:17; Luke 4:17; Acts 8:28– 30; 28:25; 4Q163 15–16.1; 4Q174 1–2 i 15–16; 4Q177 5–6.2, 5; CD A iv 13–14 and pars.; 11Q13 ii 15; 11Q14 1 i 9). Hebrew Bible.  The book bearing Isaiah’s name begins by stating that Isaiah prophesied during the reigns of Uzziah (or Azariah), Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, the kings of Judah (Isa 1:1). Since Uzziah reigned for 52 years in the mid-8th century bce, Isaiah probably began his activity in

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the 740s bce. Isaiah lived until the fourteenth year of Hezekiah’s reign (715–686 bce), evidently prophesying for more than 40 years. Isaiah received his call in the Jerusalem Temple, raising at least the possibility that (like Ezekiel and Jeremiah) he was a priest (Isa 6). His ease of access to the king suggests that he was a member of the aristocracy. Having condemned the religious and social mores of his time (Isa 6:9–10), Isaiah rose to public prominence during the Syro-Ephramitic (Assyrian) invasion of Judah in 734 bce, and Isaiah 7 describes how Isaiah counseled Ahaz against a political alliance with the invaders. When Ahaz nevertheless concluded the alliance, Isaiah withdrew from the Jerusalem establishment and declared that “for both houses of Israel, he [the LORD] will become a rock one stumbles over—a trap and a snare for the inhabitants of Jerusalem” (Isa 8:14). The reference to Isaiah’s “disciples,” who are charged with preserving Isaiah’s prophecy (Isa 8:16), suggests that he founded a prophetic school. Isaiah appears to have operated publicly again when Hezekiah began his reign in 715 bce. When the Assyrians captured Ashdod, Isaiah wandered naked and barefoot to indicate the fate awaiting Egypt and Ethiopia (Isa 20:2–4). When after 705 bce it became clear that Hezekiah was being drawn toward an alliance with Assyria, Isaiah described this as a “covenant with death and Sheol” (Isa 28:15). When in 701 bce Sennacherib led a powerful army into Judah, Isaiah encouraged Hezekiah to resist the Assyrians (Isa 37:1–7), promising that God would defend him “for the sake of my servant David” (Isa 37:35). Isaiah 37:36, supported by the accounts in 2 Kings 19 and 2 Chronicles 32, then asserts that the judgment of God fell on the Assyrian army and wiped out 185,000 men. Second Temple Sources.  Several features regarding Isaiah in the Hebrew Bible are picked up and embellished during the Second Temple period. The association of his prophetic activity with the fates of kings is given additional details in the 2nd century ce Christian apocalypse, Ascension of Isaiah, which draws strongly on Jewish tradition (cf. Henning and Nicklas 2016). In particular, Ascension of Isaiah focuses on the wicked reign of Manasseh and retells his conflict with the prophet with material not found in Isaiah, 2 Kings, or 2 Chronicles (Ascen. Isa. 1–5). As in Isaiah the book, he is accompanied by a group of prophets; however, whereas they are simply referred to as “my disciples” in Isaiah 8:16, Ascension of Isaiah gives them names, most of which are familiar from tradition (Ascen. Isa. 2:7–11: Micah, Ananias, Joel, Habakkuk, and Josab; cf. also 6:7). Both rabbinic legends (cf. b. Yebam. 49b) and the Ascension of Isaiah (5:1–16) offer a narrative of the time and manner of Isaiah’s death not found in the Hebrew Bible. The passage in the Talmud states that he suffered martyrdom by being sawn in two under Manasseh’s orders (cf. the same mode of death in Heb 11:37). A similar account, though with considerably more detail, is given in the Ascension of Isaiah. As Pesce has shown, the latter combined two traditions (preserved in the later Talmud) that, respectively, described the prophet’s death as involving a formal trial and a lynching (Pesce 1983). Again, beyond anything in the Hebrew Bible—though perhaps taking the Isaiah’s visionary activity as a point of departure (cf. esp. Isa 6)—the Ascension of Isaiah tells of Isaiah’s visions of and journey through seven heavens (chs. 6–11). Drawing on Christian tradition, the work has the prophet see the righteous, having arrived in the seventh heaven (9:1–18), and direct worship at the angel-like Lord (9:27–32), “the angel of the Holy Spirit” (9:33–36), and

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the transcendent “Most High” and “Father of the Lord” (9:37–10:6). Thus Isaiah is made to have witnessed, and therefore to have predicted, Jesus’ descent to earth. Conclusion.  In traditions around the turn of the Common Era, Isaiah was remembered as a major prophetic figure and as a fervent pietist for whom compromise was anathema. As in the Hebrew Bible, he was presented as one who insisted that religious values take precedence over political alliances, even when these are made with more powerful neighboring states. The later sources record that he was put to death for his principled criticism of the royal establishment (Manasseh). Whether or not one has access to the historical person—and this is hampered by the problem of literary layers and redactional activity on the book of Isaiah, as well as bias in the accounts of 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles (cf., e.g., the discussion by Williamson 2017)—“Isaiah” functioned as an ideal figure before and during the Second Temple period, placed in service of strongly held and uncompromising religious convictions.

Bibliography M. Henning and T. Nicklas, “Jewish, Christian—What? Questions of Self-Designation in the Ascension of Isaiah,” in The Ascension of Isaiah, ed. J. Bremmer, T. R. Karmann, and T. Nicklas, SECA 11 (Leuven: Peeters, 2016), 175–98. M. Pesce, “Presupposti per l’utilazzione storica dell’Ascensione di Isaia. Formazione e tradizione del testo: genere letterario: cosmologia angelica,” in  Isaia, il Diletto e la chiesa: Visione ed esegesi profetica cristiano-primitiva nell’Ascensione di Isaia. Atti del convegno di Roma, 9–10 Aprile 1981, ed. M. Pesce, TRSR 20 (Brescia: Paideia, 1983), 13–76. H. G. M. Williamson, “The Theory of a Josianic Edition of the First Part of the Book of Isaiah: A Critical Examination,” in Studies in Isaiah: History, Theology, Reception, ed. T. Wasserman, G. Andersson, and D. Willgren, LHB/OTS 654 (London: Bloomsbury, 2017), 3–21. JONATHAN M. KNIGHT

Related entries: Isaiah, Book of; Isaiah, Pesher of; Isaiah Scroll (1QIsa ); Jesus of Nazareth; Prophecy; Prophets, Texts Associated with; Suffering Servant. a

Ishmael Ishmael’s identity in Genesis is established primarily by negation. He is not Isaac, the child through whom the covenant will come to fruition (17:15–22). Ishmael’s mother is not Sarah but Hagar, with whom he endures expulsion to a wilderness life without claim on the Promised Land (21:1–21). Other details support a more generous evaluation, however. The grounds for Ishmael’s expulsion are notoriously thin (21:9); no rivalry with Isaac of the kind that bedevils Esau and Jacob is evident. Abraham pleads that Ishmael might participate in the blessings he himself has been promised (17:18–20). If Genesis presents Ishmael as other, it also admits of various assessments of the distance between Ishmael and his more favored kin. Jubilees bolsters exclusionary and inclusionary elements of Ishmael’s portrayal in Genesis. On the one hand, the rewriting of Genesis 17 discriminates forcefully between the chosen line and Abraham’s other descendants (15:30). The clarification reflects a concern with genealogical purity; an unbridgeable chasm separates holy seed (Jew) from the rest of humanity (gentile). Accordingly, the timing of Ishmael’s circumcision compromises its covenantal value: it does not occur on the eighth day (Thiessen 2011) or immediately once the command is received (Segal

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2007). On the other hand, Abraham’s promotion of Ishmael is magnified. He appears as covenant insider in several passages, most notably as one called to practice covenantal circumcision, to avoid exogamy (20:3–4), and to celebrate covenant renewal (22:1–9). The combination of emphases suggests that for the author of Jubilees, for whom the idea of conversion is genealogically impossible, Ishmael may represent the circumcised gentile whose conduct permits enjoyment of the chosen people’s blessings (Francis 2012). Philo of Alexandria’s treatment of Ishmael is largely negative, and that by way of contrast with Isaac. Ishmael is the baseborn child who grasps at equality with Abraham’s true son (Sobr. 8); he is an uncivilized sort lacking his father’s virtues (Virt. 207). Understood allegorically, Ishmael is the sophist, the eristic soul (Fug. 209), quite unlike the disposition possessing true wisdom by nature. This assessment is tied to Philo’s interpretation of Hagar as the encyclical studies, necessary but merely preliminary for advancement in knowledge. Ishmael the sophist is the soul whose failure to advance to higher things is settled, whose learning establishes only falsehood (Cher. 9). Prompted by the biblical text (Gen 17:18), Philo’s unfavorable treatment of Ishmael can be moderated, however. “Hearing God” (Ishmael), though second to “seeing God” (Israel, Fug. 208), proves profitable for some (Mut. 202); the lower gifts and learning should be received with thankfulness before God (Mut. 216–227). Paul appeals to the Genesis story of Abraham’s two sons and their respective mothers in Galatians. Ishmael serves a thoroughly negative purpose in Paul’s allegorical reading: just as one born of a slave and according to the flesh was removed from one born free and according to the Spirit, so the Galatians must dismiss the teaching that gentile followers of Christ should undergo circumcision and adopt the Jewish law (4:21–5:1). A direct connection between Ishmael and the Arab peoples emerges clearly for the first time in the Second Temple period. According to Jubilees, as the families of Ishmael and Keturah mixed they were called Arabs and Ishmaelites (20:12–13). Josephus identifies Ishmael as founder of the Arab race and his descendants as Nabateans (Ant. 1.214, 220–221). In rabbinic texts preceding the 7th century, Ishmael appears as generic non-Jew and metonym for Arabs, with varying degrees of approval or censure; with the rise of Islam, his portrayal becomes more consistently negative, reflecting the sociopolitical and theological challenges posed by Islam for Judaism (Bakhos 2014).

Bibliography C. Bakhos, The Family of Abraham: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Interpretations (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014). M. Francis, “Defining the Excluded Middle: The Case of Ishmael in Jubilees,” JSP 21.3 (2012): 259–83. MICHAEL FRANCIS

Related entries: Allegory; Genealogies; Genesis, Book of; Holiness; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of; Nabatea; Pauline Letters.

Itureans “Itureans” is a designation used in ancient sources to describe the peoples of certain local communities in the rural hinterland of the Levant. These peoples are perhaps identical with the biblical Yeṭūr (‫ ;יטור‬Gen 25:15; 1 Chr 1:31) and were, judging by the onomastics of later “Iturean”

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cohorts in the Roman army, Arabic speakers. Classical authors knew them primarily as mountain brigands and as a threat to civilian life. In the 1st century bce, the Itureans took advantage of the power vacuum left by the disintegrating Seleucid empire and carved out their own independent state. Their tetrarch Ptolemy, son of Mennaios (ca. 85–40 bce), ruled from Chalkis sub Libano (exact location uncertain) and expanded his territory to the west across Mount Lebanon, to the east across the Antilebanon, and to the south to Ulatha, Panias, Batanaea, Trachonitis, and Auranitis (Josephus, Ant. 13.392, 418; 14.126; J.W. 1.103; Strabo 16.2.10 [753]). Lysanias (40–36 bce) succeeded his father Ptolemy (Ant. 14.330; 15.92; J.W. 1.248, 440; Dio Cass. 49.32.5) and was followed, after his murder, by Mark Antony and the interregnum of Cleopatra VII. Ptolemy’s son (?), Zenodoros, then ruled in 30–20 bce (Ant. 15.344; J.W. 1.398). All three rulers minted bronze coins which bore the titles tetrarch and high priest, the latter probably referring to the cult of Jupiter at Heliopolis (Baalbek). The tetrarchy of Chalkis came to an end when in 14/13 bce Augustus attached much of the Beqa’ to the newly founded Roman colony of Berytus (Beirut) (Strabo 16.2.19 [756]). In the 40s and 50s ce two Herodian “rulers of Chalkis” are attested, Herod (Ant. 19.277) and Agrippa I (Ant. 20.138; J.W. 2.247), but this town is probably Chalkis ad Belum in northern Syria. Meanwhile, Abila (Sūq Wādī Barada in the Antilebanon [CIL 3.199 = ILS 5864]) became a separate tetrarchy under Lysanias (II) (Luke 3:1; Ant. 19.275). A third Iturean principality was Arca (Tell ‘Arqa) close to Tripolis (Trāblus). Refounded as Caesarea, it called itself “Caesarea of the Itureans” in the 3rd century ce on civic coins.

Bibliography J. Aliquot, “Les Ituréens et la présence arabe au Liban du IIe siècle a.C. au IVe siècle p.C.,” Mélanges de l’Université de Saint-Joseph 56 (1999–2003): 161–290. A. Kropp, Images and Monuments of near Eastern Dynasts, 100 BC–AD 100 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). ANDREAS J. M. KROPP

Related entries: Diadochi; Ptolemies; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Seleucids.

Jacob Jacob’s life, from birth to burial, is treated in detail in Genesis 25:19–50:14. The space devoted to him and his portrayal as the father of the twelve tribes of Israel and identification as “Israel” (Gen 32:29) all point to Genesis’ perception of his central role in Israelite history. In contrast, Second Temple Jewish writings that relate to the patriarchal stories tend to favor Abraham, in some cases going so far as to ignore Jacob (e.g. 1 Macc 2:51–60; 4 Ezra 3:4–27; Josephus, J.W. 5.357–419; Feldman 1998: 304–34). Jacob is referred to briefly in historical reviews and chronologies, functioning primarily either as the genealogical link between Abraham and the ancestors of the priestly line (Levi/Aaron) (e.g. 4Q225 2 ii 10–12; 4Q379 xvii 4–5; 5Q13 1+2+3+7 7–8; 4Q559; Sir 44: 22–23; cf. also 4Q542 1 i 10–11; ALD 3:14–15; Demetrius the Chronographer, Praep. ev. 9.21.19) and/or between Abraham and the Israelites (typically followed by an account of Israel in Egypt) (e.g. 1 En. 89:12; 2 Bar 59; LAB 23:9; 32:6; cf. also LAB 8). Some texts also relate to Jacob’s journey to and from Haran (e.g. Demetrius the Chronographer, Praep. ev. 9.21.1–11; 4Q464 7; LAB 32:6). 4Q364 370

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3 ii 4–6, Jubilees 27–29, and Jewish Antiquities 1.276–336 all expand this episode, the former two adducing Rebecca’s grief at Jacob’s departure and Josephus noting that Jacob’s hatred of the Haranites prompted him to decline to be hosted by them (cf. Gen 28:10–11). Jacob’s two visits to Bethel (Gen 28, 35; cf. 48:3–4; Hos 12:4–5) are alluded to/reworked in a number of Second Temple Jewish writings. Following this event, Genesis presents him as the heir to the divine promises given to Abraham. While some texts (e.g. Sir 44:22–23; Jub. 19:14– 31; 22:1–30; CD iii 2–4) observe that the covenant is renewed via Jacob, others specifically mention the covenant at Bethel. Brief references to this episode occur in 5Q13 1+2+3+7 and the Temple Scroll (11Q19 xxix 7–10), the latter interpreting it as a divine promise to establish an eschatological temple on “the day of creation” (see Brooke 2013). Jacob is also associated with the Jerusalem Temple and/or priestly line in other contemporaneous works. In addition to the genealogies mentioned above, the Aramaic Levi Document and Jubilees describe how, on his way to Bethel and his visit to Isaac, he was present when the latter blessed Levi (ALD 5:1; Jub. 31:5–17; cf. T. Levi 9:1–2), also asserting that his vow “of all that you give me I will surely give one-tenth to you” (Gen 28:22) is fulfilled by his tithing of his twelve sons and dedication of Levi to the priesthood during his second visit to Bethel (ALD 5:2–5; Jub. 32:3, 9; cf. T. Levi 9:3). Far fewer Jewish writings from this period treat Jacob’s married life. Jubilees, Jewish Antiquities, and 4QNaphtali (4Q215) introduce extrabiblical details relating to Zilpah and Bilhah, Jubilees stating that they were sisters (Jub. 28:9), Josephus and 4QNaphtali implying that they were worthy wives for Jacob (cf. T. Naphtali 1:9–12). Jubilees and Josephus also depict Jacob’s familial relations with his wives and father-in-law, painting them in far more a positive light than does the biblical account. By softening and/or omitting the mandrake story, for example, Jacob is portrayed as respected by his wives (Gen 30:14–16; Jub. 28; Ant. 1.285–308). With Jacob/ Israel representing the people of Israel in Jubilees, the narrative further delineates him as an ideal family man by being obedient to and providing for his parents (cf. esp. Jub. 29:15–20, 35:1–14). Jubilees also describes Jacob as reading future events recorded on the heavenly tablets (Jub. 32:17–29; cf. 4Q537 1–3?) and as a triumphant warrior. The latter tradition (cf. also T. Jud. 3–9) appears to be based on Genesis 48:22, in which Jacob takes a portion (LXX: Shechem) with his sword and bow, his prowess being demonstrated in two military conflicts—one against a group of Amorite kings in Shechem, the second against his warmongering brother Esau (Jub. 34; 37–38; Livneh 2013). While not reporting these battles, Josephus similarly highlights Jacob’s military skills in his account of his preparations prior to his meeting with Esau and his defeat of the angel (Ant. 1.325–336; cf. Gen 32–33; 4Q158 1–2; cf. Feldman 1998: 304–34). Hereby Josephus seeks to portray Jacob as an ideal Greco-Roman hero, also accentuating his lineage (Ant. 1.280, 289–290), enormous wealth (Ant. 1.314, 2.7, 2.214), and wisdom (Ant. 2.15–17). While his retelling of Jacob’s last days is concise (Ant. 2.194–196), several Qumran scrolls elaborate on the same theme, with 4Q537 possibly constituting his final testament and 4Q252 iv, v and 4Q254 5–6, 7 relating to the blessings he gives his sons in Genesis 49.

Bibliography G. J. Brooke, “Jacob and His House in the Scrolls from Qumran,” Rewriting and Interpreting the Hebrew Bible (2013): 171–88. L. H. Feldman, “Jacob,” in Josephus’ Interpretation of the Bible (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 304–34.

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A. Livneh, “With My Sword and Bow: Jacob as Warrior in Jubilees,” in Rewriting and Interpreting the Hebrew Bible (2013): 189–213. H. A. Rapp, Jakob in Bet-El: Gen 35, 1–15 und die jüdische Literatur des 3. und 2. Jahrhunderts, HBS 29 (Freiburg: Herder, 2001). ATAR LIVNEH

Related entries: Angels; Covenant; Eschatology; Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Jubilees, Book of.

James According to Eusebius, there were many people named James in the Second Temple period (His. eccl. 2.23.4). Of the 2,509 males and 317 females whose names were catalogued by Tal Ilan from Palestine between 330 bce and 200 ce, she lists Jacob as the eleventh most common male biblical name (2002: 56, 171–74). While this statistic confirms common use, the scope of the survey is too broad in time and place and is based on an insufficient sample to establish precise conclusions (Painter 2004: 280–83, 308). The title “James of Jerusalem” distinguishes this James from others. In the New Testament, the Hebrew name Jacob (‫יעקב‬, yʿqb) was rendered in Greek as Ἰακώβ (Iakōb) and ᾽Ιάκωβος (Iakōbos); the former (the transliteration of the Hebrew) was used only of the third of the great Jewish patriarchs (Matt 1:2 and elsewhere) and of the father of Joseph the husband of Mary the mother of Jesus (Matt 1:15–16). The inflected Greek form was used of as many as six of those who were followers of Jesus. By the time Josephus wrote, though, the inflected ᾽Ιάκωβος was conventional for all, as it was later for Eusebius. In a work on Second Temple Judaism it is therefore important to recognize that “James of Jerusalem” was known as Jacob after the third great patriarchal figure of Judaism. Matthew (13:55–56) and Mark (6:3) each identifies Jesus’ family, naming his mother and brothers and mentioning the presence of his sisters. Like Jesus, whose name is a Greek form of Joshua, the brothers are named after great figures in the history of Israel: Jacob, Joseph, Symeon, and Judah, as are Joseph and Mary. According to Matthew (1:16), Joseph, the husband of Mary, was the son of Jacob. The family names suggest that Jacob, the brother of Jesus, was part of a family for whom the history and tradition of their people was a living reality in their lives. Although the genealogies of both Matthew and Luke trace the lineage of Jesus through Joseph, their birth stories present divine intervention in the conception of Jesus by Mary. Nothing in any of the Gospels suggests that the brothers and sisters were not children of Joseph and Mary, though Eastern and Western churches came to divergent ways of insisting that Jesus was Mary’s only son. Though the Gospels depict the presence of Jesus’ family during his mission to Israel, the relation of the family to his movement is disputed. While the Gospels depict the failings of the disciples, it is frequently suggested that the family was less supportive, even to the point of opposing him. Those who adopt this position (a common view today) identify those who seek to restrain Jesus in Mark 3:20–21 as the unbelieving family who are portrayed as “outsiders” in 3:31–35. Support is also claimed by reference to the brothers of Jesus as unbelievers in John 7:3– 5. An alternative reading shows the mistaken identification of the family in Mark 3:20–21. They have not been mentioned to this point in Mark and are not identified there. Further, the brothers were no more unbelieving than the disciples at this stage in John 7:3–5 (Painter 1999: 498–513; 372

Jericho

2004: 16–18, 20–31). Acts 1:14 portrays the mother of Jesus and his brothers as part of the Jesus movement in Jerusalem immediately after the crucifixion of Jesus (Acts 1:14, Painter 2004: 42), and James emerged as the leader of the Jerusalem followers (Acts 12:17, Painter 2004: 42–44), continuing in that role until his “martyrdom” in 62 ce (see Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 2.23.1–25; Painter 2004: 118–41). Josephus (Ant. 20.197–203) includes an account of the execution of James by the high priest, the younger Ananus, who took advantage of a break in Roman rule to convene the judges of the Sanhedrin and to have a number of men, including James, condemned and stoned. Josephus notes that those who were fair minded and scrupulous in observance of the Law took exception to these executions (Painter 2004: 132–41). James’ presence with the disciples in Jerusalem and his rapid rise to the leadership of the Jerusalem believers is inexplicable had he not been a follower of Jesus prior to the crucifixion. Eusebius (ca. 320) portrays James, known since the time of Paul as “the brother of the Lord” and as “James the Just,” as the leading figure in the Jewish Jerusalem church, the leading church of earliest Christianity (Painter 2004: 105–58). Even Paul finds himself obliged to acknowledge his leadership (Acts 15:1–35; 21:17). During James’ lifetime the Jerusalem church remained focused on Jesus’ mission to renew the life of Israel. At the same time, Jerusalem retained leadership over the emerging separate mission to the nations. The letters of Paul confirm this authority and reveal the tensions arising out of the divergent mission to the nations, of which Paul was a (rather, the) leading figure (Acts 15; 21:17–26; Galatians 1:18–19; 2:1–21; Painter 2004:48–78). Jewish leadership of the Jerusalem church continued after the death of James in 62 ce and the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce. It ended with the failure of the Second Revolt in 135 ce, when Jerusalem ceased to be a Jewish city. Memory of the greatness of James persisted, but his distinctive Jewish mission only survived in Jewish splinter groups. The Epistle of James (New Testament), addressed “to the Twelve Tribes of the Diaspora,” appears to be based on tradition from James but shaped to meet the diaspora conditions of later times. The authenticity of the Epistle remained disputed in the first half of the 4th century (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 2.23.24–25). It lacks early attestation and has obscured the Jerusalem-centeredness of James (Painter 2004: 234–51).

Bibliography J. Painter, “When Is a House Not a Home? Disciples and Family in Mark 3:13–35,” NTS 45 (1999), 498–513. J. Painter, Just James: The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition, Second enlarged Edition (Colombia: University of South Carolina Press, 2004). JOHN PAINTER

Related entries: Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Mark, Gospel of; Matthew, Gospel of; Names and Naming; Pauline Letters.

Jannes and Jambres—see Jannes and Jambres (pt 3) Jericho The ancient site of Second Temple period Jericho (the site of Tulul Abu el-Alayiq) is well known for the royal Hasmonean and Herodian Winter Palaces situated near Wadi Qelt (see Map 9: Decline of Hasmonean Rule and Roman Presence [63–43 bce]). Probably because of 373

Jericho

the private nature of their use, the palaces never featured prominently in ancient literary sources, but appeared rather sporadically, whereas the archaeological remains reveal the actual monumentality of the site. Jericho was connected to Jerusalem through an approximately 20-km ancient road through the wadi, allowing a comfortable seasonal use of the palaces by the rulers and their families through generations. It was the same road that set the scene for the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37) and Jesus’ healing of the blind as he was travelling both to (Mark 10:46; Luke 18:35) and from Jericho (Matt 20:24–34). The main written source on the site of Jericho is the JewishRoman author Flavius Josephus. He focuses on the historic actions taking place here in connection with the Hasmoneans and especially Herod the Great, however, conveying little information about the topography and architecture of the site. The Greek author Strabo (Geogr.; ca. 63 bce–23 ce) offers a brief description of the fertile land and the date palms of Jericho (Geogr. 16.2.40–41), for which the city was famous (e.g. 2 Chr 28:15). Jericho is, furthermore, mentioned briefly in connection with the history of the Maccabees and their battle against the Seleucid rule (e.g. 1 Macc 9:50). The murder of Simeon Thassi (142–135/4 bce) and his two oldest sons by the hand of his son-in-law Ptolemy is retold in 1 Maccabees (16:11–16), which took place in the fortress Dok, one of the fortresses protecting the Jericho plain and the palaces. Although E. Robinson first rediscovered Jericho in 1838, the archaeologists E. Sellin, C. Watzinger, and A. Nöldeke (excavating 1907–1909) were the first to connect the archaeological remains of Tulul Abu el-Alayiq with the written records on Herodian Jericho. Ehud Netzer, the last in a long line of archaeologists, conducted the newest and most extensive archaeological excavations from the early 1970s to the 1990s, which form the basis for the present reconstruction of Jericho. Seven phases have been attributed to the Hasmonean period dating between 140 and 30 bce, after which Herod the Great took possession of the site until his death in 4 bce. Herod proceeded to build three palaces and a hippodrome approximately 1.5 km from the Winter Palaces (identified with the modern site Tell el-Samarat). Flavius Josephus never connected the hippodrome directly with the Winter Palaces, but the presence of it underlines the royal character of the site. He mentions the hippodrome on three occasions in connection with the last days of Herod, one of these the proclamation of Herod’s death to the army gathered here (J.W. 1.653–654, 659, 666; Ant. 17.161, 174–175, 194). The Hasmonean period phases are based on a relative chronology of the structures excavated. The attribution of the individual phases or buildings to specific rulers is a correlation of historic information and the relative chronology. In some cases, these attributions must be viewed with caution, as Flavius Josephus presents us with no absolute criteria for the use of the individual palaces. During the first phase (140–130 bce), either under Simeon or John Hyrcanus I (135/4– 104 bce), Jericho served primarily as an agricultural estate, protected by two towers. No housing areas have been identified. In the second Hasmonean phase, Jericho received its first monumental building: the First Palace dated to around 125 to 110 bce, i.e., the time of John Hyrcanus I. The palace, built near the road between Jericho and Jerusalem, consisted of mud-brick erected on a stone foundation (the main building technique of the site), with a connecting garden. After a relatively short period of use (maybe some 30 years), it was covered by an artificial mound. Although this mound helped preserve large parts of the original two stories up to a height of 7–8 m, the knowledge of the First Palace is fragmented. During the third Hasmonean phase,

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the time of Alexander Jannaeus (103–76 bce), a pool area was erected east of the First Palace (Figure 4.58). It is this part of Jericho which has been connected with the story of the drowning of the last Hasmonean Aristobulus III in 36 bce (Ant. 15.53–56). According to Josephus, Herod had recently been compelled to appoint the 17-year-old brother of his second wife Mariamne (ca. 54–29 bce) as the new high priest. He feared that the young man’s popularity was going to threaten his kingship, so much so that during a visit to Jericho he arranged to have Aristobulus drowned in one of the pools in the guise of pleasant play among friends. During the fourth Hasmonean phase, Jericho underwent massive changes, as a Fortified Palace was erected between 93 and 86 bce by Alexander Jannaeus. The king faced major internal political problems with the Pharisees at this time, possibly also calling for an increase in his personal protection in Jericho. The Fortified Palace was constructed on an artificial mound, burying the First Palace beneath it. Only the foundation walls of this structure have been preserved. The fifth phase is the time of the so-called Twin Palaces, erected at the foot of the Fortified Palace (Figure 4.59). This phase has been placed in the time of the reign of Alexandra Salome (76–67 bce). As a woman, Alexandra Salome could not act as high priest, and for this reason she appointed her oldest son, John Hyrcanus II (63–40 bce), to the position. This act fueled the rivalry between her two sons John Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II (67–63 bce) and eventually led to civil war. Despite this, the two buildings—very similar in outline and only accessible through a common entrance—were identified as palaces built by Alexandra Salome to accommodate the needs of both her rivalling sons. The two last Hasmonean phases fall between the Roman occupation of Judea (63 bce) and the destruction of the palaces through an earthquake in 31 bce. During this time, only minor changes took place in Jericho.

Figure 4.58  Pools of the Hasmonean Third Phase (Alexander Jannaeus).

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Jericho

Figure 4.59  Reconstruction of the Hasmonean palaces.

In 36 bce Mark Antony (83–30 bce) transferred Jericho to the possession of the Egyptian queen Cleopatra VII (69–30 bce), who was a close ally of the royal Hasmonean house. Herod had to lease the fertile land from her (Ant. 15.77–79, 88–96). According to the final excavation publication, the First Herodian Palace dates to this time. However, according to Josephus, Herod did not erect new palaces between the fortress of Cypros and the earlier Hasmonean palace until after acquiring full possession of Jericho in 30 bce, naming these after Augustus and Marcus Agrippa (J.W. 1.407). Furthermore, according to the final publication of the excavation, the earthquake of 31 bce destroyed the Hasmonean palace, but spared this palace. This leaves a nonconclusive date for the First Palace, which through coin finds can only be established as Herodian. Herod erected his Second Palace north of Wadi Qelt a few years after acquiring full possession of Jericho, in part reusing the older Hasmonean structures. The Third Herodian Palace, dated to ca. 15 bce, was to become his architectonic highlight in Jericho. It was clearly inspired by Roman building techniques, using bricks as paneling of the concrete masonry (opus reticulatum and opus quadratum style), and Roman decoration styles. Marked for the Herodian architecture was the clear combination of elements from different cultural traditions, such as the Roman style bathing facilities and Jewish ritual baths. During the Second Temple period, Jericho completely changed its appearance from a site developed in the tradition of the Hellenistic-Jewish rulers to becoming a part of the Roman world under the Jewish ruler and Roman client-king Herod the Great, who skillfully combined the two worlds. After his death, the Herodian palaces seem to have fallen rapidly into disuse. The Third Herodian Palace appears to have been looted already during the Second Temple period, even if secondary walls found within the last palace show that the building was still to some extent occupied after the time of Herod the Great, but then probably by local 376

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farmers or similar groups. Only a few scattered remains date to the time after the fall of the Second Temple, after which the site of Tulul Abu el-Alayiq appears to have been largely abandoned.

Bibliography J. L. Kelso, Excavations at New Testament Jericho and Khirbet En-Nitla: Joint Expedition of the Pittsburgh-Xenia Theological Seminary and the American School of Oriental Research in Jerusalem (New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1955). A. Lykke and F. Schipper, “Qumran im regionalen Kontext: Jericho (Tulul Abu el-Alayiq). Kritische Anmerkungen zum Forschungs- und Publikationsstand,” Qumran und die Archäologie (2011), 293–323. E. Netzer, Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho. Final Reports of the 1973–1987 Excavations, 5 vols. (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2001–2010). ANNE LYKKE

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Baths; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Fortresses and Palaces; Hasmonean Dynasty; Herodians; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Revolt, Maccabean; Miqvaʾot.

Jerusalem, Archaeology of The city of Jerusalem expanded considerably between 538 bce and the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce (Geva 1993; 2008). The returnees from the Babylonian exile resettled the south-eastern hill—“the City of David.” The Temple was located on a prominence to the north. In between stood a third hill that had been occupied by the Royal Palace during the First Temple period. Antiochus IV Epiphanes erected there the Acra Fortress (168 bce), which served as a stronghold for the Greek garrison and for the hellenized Jews. The fortress was conquered and destroyed by Simeon the Hasmonean (141 bce), and the summit of the hillock was leveled in order that it might not block the view of the Temple from the city (Josephus, J.W. 5.137–139; Ant. 12.252). These three eastern hills, which were fortified by Nehemiah, were delineated on the east by the Kidron brook and on the west by its tributary, the Tyropoeon Valley (J.W. 5.136– 162). Under the later Hasmoneans (John Hyrcanus and Alexander Jannaeus), the south-western hill—it was more moderate and larger in area than the other three—was settled. It was delineated on the west and south by the Valley of Hinnom and on the north by a western tributary of the Tyropoeon valley. This hill area, regarded as the Upper City, was encircled by the First Wall. Under the Herodian regime the city expanded farther northwards beyond the Tyropoeon tributary and was then encircled by the Second Wall. Later the city expanded still farther north, beyond the Temple Mount. This new city was known as Bezetha. Its fortification started under King Agrippa I (41–44 ce) and was completed at the beginning of the First Jewish Revolt (66 ce). At the time of its destruction Jerusalem was “by far the most famous city of the East and not of Judea only” (Pliny, Nat. 5.70). It was encircled by three walls and at its center, within a walled precinct, stood the Temple that to the besieging soldiers of Titus resembled a fortress (Lat. arx) with walls of its own (Tacitus, Hist. 5.12). The Herodian precinct, 144,000 m2 in dimension, was one of the largest of its kind in the entire Roman world. Its south-western foundations were laid to the west of the Tyropoeon Valley. In early times the main access to the Temple Mount was from the south through the Huldah Gates, where the early city extended. Under the Hasmoneans, when the city expanded to the western hill, another gate was opened to the west and a bridge was constructed that connected the Temple Mount with the Upper City. Under Herod the number of gates on the west increased to four: two (Warren’s Gate and Barclay’s Gate) led from the street 377

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level upward via a tunnel; the third gate opened to a new bridge, retained by Wilson’s Arch; and the fourth connected the Royal Basilica to the street level by means of an elaborate stairway that was retained by Robinson’s Arch. The city streets did not follow a grid pattern; instead, it was the topography that determined their run. The main one, which was stone paved, ran parallel to the Tyropoeon Valley, from north to south. Two main drainage tunnels ran on either side of the Valley. Several main tunnels also drained the Upper City. The water supply, which evolved gradually, came from several sources (Geva 1993: 746‒47; Amit, Hirschfeld, and Patrich 2002: 210‒43, 245‒56). The water of the Gihon spring was collected into the Siloam Pool, located near the southern end of the City of David. Another source, a large reservoir that was vast like a sea, was erected by the high priest Simeon the Just. Moreover, under the Hasmoneans, when the number of citizens and of pilgrims increased considerably, the Lower Level aqueduct was laid to bring water to the city and to the Temple Mount from the spring of Eitam, located to the south of Bethlehem. Another aqueduct, the Upper one, brought water from springs even farther to the south, in the Hebron Hills. Other large pools were dispersed on the west: The Serpents Pool outside the First Wall and the Amygdalon pool near the western city gate, to the north of Herod’s Palace. The Sheep Pool and Israel Pool were located to the north of the Herodian Temple Mount. Within the confines of the Temple Mount there were numerous water cisterns, which are still extant. Further, many cisterns, filled by rainwater, were located below Jerusalem’s private dwellings, since the houses did not have individual water supplies by pipes. The first palace of the Hasmoneans was erected to the north-west of the contemporary Temple Mount. This fortified palace—initially called Baris—was erected by John Hyrcanus I (J.W. 1.75, 118; Ant. 15.403‒409). It was enlarged and elaborated by Herod some 80 years later and renamed Antonia, after Marc Antony, Herod’s Roman patron at the time (J.W. 5.238‒246; Ant. 15.409). The second Hasmonean palace was built (perhaps by Alexander Jannaeus) in the Upper City overlooking the Temple and its precinct. A Hasmonean garrison occupied the former palace. Herod’s second palace was built on the north-western part of the Upper City, against the city wall (the First Wall). Three prominent towers (named after Hippicus, Phasael, and Mariamme) were erected to its north (J.W. 5.163‒183). This palace later served the Roman governor, while the Antonia Fortress (the dimensions of which had been reduced by the enlargement of the Temple Mount) served the Roman garrison of Jerusalem (see Map 12c: First Jewish War: Siege of Jerusalem [70 ce]). In the early 1st century ce the proselyte Royal House of Adiabene (northern Iraq) built a palatial precinct in Jerusalem, to the south of the Herodian Temple Mount. According to Flavius Josephus the city had several public buildings other than the Temple, including a Council Chamber (boulētērion) and an archive. A composite double triclinium with a decorative fountain served as the official dining hall for the presidents (prytaneis) of the Council (prytaneion; Patrich and Weksler-Bdolah 2016). There were also several markets (agorai)—the Upper Market, Timber Market, and Cloths Market. Below the First Wall, near its meeting with the Temple Mount (in the approximate present location of the Wailing Wall), there was an open paved piazza with colonnades (Xistos). Herod installed two entertainment structures in the city, a theater (seemingly of wood) and an amphitheater/hippodrome (Levine 2002: 201–206; Patrich 2002a; 2002b). The Upper City was inhabited by the wealthy, many of them priests. The houses were two to three stories high and included a basement with a miqveh. The houses, of the courtyard type, consisted of several rooms surrounding a courtyard with a water cistern underneath. Their walls 378

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Figure 4.60  Jerusalem in the Second Temple period.

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were plastered and decorated with Hellenistic and Roman style frescoes and stuccos. The floors were of colorful mosaics. Figural motives were prohibited. The ceilings and roofs were flat, made of wooden beams, and plastered. The rooms included a reception hall, sleeping rooms, a kitchen, and a bath suite with a tub. In some cases, there was even an underfloor heating system. In the basements there were also storage rooms. The Necropolis (burial grounds) surrounded the city from all sides. The most eleborate mausolea were built or rock-cut on the eastern cliffs of the Kidron brook opposite the Temple Mount (Tombs of Bene Ḥezir, “Tomb of Zechariah,” “Tomb of Absalom,” and the “Cave of Jehoshaphat”). To the north of the Third Wall, next to the road leading north toward Shechem and Damascus, stood the Tomb of Queen Helena of Adiabene (Geva 1993: 747‒57; 2008: 1822‒25; Levine 2002: 206‒13; Figure 4.60).

Bibliography H. Geva, “Jerusalem,” NEAEHL (1993), 2:717‒57. H. Geva, “Jerusalem,” NEAEHL (2008), 5:1801‒37. J. Patrich, “Herod’s Theater in Jerusalem—A New Proposal,” IEJ 52 (2002a): 231‒39. J. Patrich, “On the Lost Circus of Aelia Capitolina,” Scripta Classica Israelica XXI (2002b): 173‒88. J. Patrich and Sh. Weksler-Bdolah, “The ‘Free Masons Hall’: A Composite Herodian Triclinium and Fountain to the West of the Temple Mount,” in New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and Its Region. Collected Papers X, eds. G. D. Stiebel, J. Uziel, K. Cytryn-Silverman, A. Re’em, and Y. Gadot (Jerusalem: IAA, 2016), 15*‒55*. JOSEPH PATRICH

Related entries: Architecture; Baths; Burial Practices; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Fortresses and Palaces; Herod the Great; Jerusalem in Second Temple Literature; Jerusalem, The New; Josephus, Writings of; Miqvaʾot; New Jerusalem Text; Roman Generals; Roman Emperors; Temple, Jerusalem.

Jerusalem in Second Temple Literature Jerusalem is frequently mentioned in Second Temple Jewish literature and considered the navel of the world (e.g. 1 En. 26:1; Jub. 8:12, 19). It is regarded as the most beautiful city, partly because of the precious stones and gold used in its construction (e.g. Sib. Or. 5.420–28; Tob 13:16–17; 4 Ezra 10:25, 50, 55; 2Q24 3; 4Q554 2). The epic poet Philo (Peri Hierosolyma, frags. 4–6) even praises the loveliness of Jerusalem’s water supply in the summer (see also 4Q554 frag. 4). Jerusalem is often referred to by the name Zion (e.g. Pss. Sol. 11:1; 4 Ezra 3:1–2; 2 Bar. 6:1–2; 4Q177 iv 15; 4Q179 1 ii 15; 4Q180 2–4 ii 1, 5–6.4; 4Q380 1 i 7; 4Q448 col. A.10; 4Q475 1 (restored); 4Q504 1–2 iv 11, 4Q88 viii 5–10; 11Q5 xxii 1–2, 9–14). It is often personified as a mother and the Jewish people as her children (e.g. Apostrophe to Zion [11Q5 xxii 6–11; 4Q88 vii 6–16]; Pss. Sol. 1, 11; Tob 13:9; 1 Bar 4:9–16). Second Temple writers viewed Jerusalem as a symbol of unity because it was the site of the Jerusalem Temple. Philo of Alexandria considered it the metropolis of all Jews since even those in the diaspora sent annual contributions there to support the sanctuary (Flacc. 46; Spec. 1.76– 78). Josephus (Ant. 4.203–4) also emphasized that Jerusalem fostered unity among diaspora Jews since they all longed to worship together in the Temple’s courts. Second Temple Jews anticipated the day when Jews in the diaspora would return to the city (e.g. Tob 13:10–14; Pss. Sol. 11:2–6; 17:26). For the author of the Testament of Moses (2–4), the greatest sin since the exodus was the 380

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apostasy of the northern tribes who broke away from the Jerusalem Temple to construct their own shrine. The Qumran text 3Q372 1.11–14 even accuses the Samaritans of criticizing Jerusalem and its Temple. Many other Second Temple texts rebuke Jerusalem’s priests for defiling the Temple and introducing foreign customs and institutions in the city (e.g. 1 Bar 1:15–18; Jdt 4:3; 1 Macc 1:11– 15; 2 Macc 4:7–17; 1 En. 92–105; Aramaic Levi Document (ALD) frag. 2; Jub. 30: 7–17, 21–23 and 33:10–20; 1 En. 12:4–6; 15:1–7; 16:1–2). Jerusalem became a particular focus of Jewish literature in the aftermath of Antiochus IV Epiphanes’ desecration of the Jerusalem Temple, which led to the Maccabean revolt (e.g. Jub 3:31, 37:1–38:14, 50:12.; Test. Mos.; 1 En. 90:6–19) when criticism of the priests increasingly led to sectarian divisions within Judaism. This is particularly true of the Dead Sea Scrolls, which recount disputes between the community that produced and collected these documents and the Temple priests whose impurity and corruption had defiled the Temple and the city (e.g. Damascus Document CD A iv 17–18, v 6–7; Rule of the Community1QS v 5–6, viii 4-10, ix 3–6; Nahum Pesher 4QpNah 3–4.9–12; Habakkuk Pesher 1QpHab viii 8–13, ix 4–5; Temple Scroll 11Q19 = 11QTa iii 1–xiii 8, xxx 3–xlvii 18; New Jerusalem Text 11QNJ ar). Criticisms of Jerusalem’s priests led some Jews to urge stringent measures be undertaken to preserve the city’s holiness by extending the purity laws for priests to the entire city (e.g. 11Q19 xlv 12–14, cf. 1QM vii 3–5; 4Q394 3.19–20; 4Q394 4.1–4). The writer of the Temple Scroll includes an extensive list of prohibited animals that could not be offered in the Temple (11Q19 lii 7b–12a, 13b–16, 19–21) or eaten within its walls (lii 9b–12a) since they could pollute the sanctuary and the city. This text also bans those afflicted with a skin disease, bodily discharge, or nocturnal emission from entering Jerusalem (xlvi 16b–18) to preserve its holiness. The Temple Scroll (li 1–6) and 4QMMT (4Q396 1–2 iv 9–10) even prohibit sexual intercourse in Jerusalem, while 4QMMT is also concerned about Jerusalem becoming defiled by the presence of dogs (4Q397 2.1–4; cf. also 11Q19 li 1–6) and impure containers (4Q394 4.5–8). Although these extensions of the biblical purity laws to the entire city of Jerusalem may sound extreme, they likely reflect the influence of Hellenization. According to Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities 12.145– 146, the Seleucid monarch Antiochus III upheld Jerusalem’s sacred status by banning impure animals and their hides within the city at any time. During the reigns of the Hasmonean and Herodian monarchs, Jewish authors often turned their attention to the effects of the Romans on Jerusalem (e.g. Pss. Sol.; Test. Mos.; 1 En. 56:5– 89). The 70 ce destruction of the city and its Temple by Titus’ Roman legions during the First Jewish Revolt led to an outpouring of literature intended to explain this tragedy (e.g. PseudoPhilo LAB; 4 Ezra; 2 and 3 Baruch). Jerusalem features most prominently in the Jewish War of Josephus (5.136–247), which preserves an eyewitness account of the city and its 70 ce destruction. Some Second Temple Period Jews, unsatisfied with Jerusalem and its clergy, wrote texts that describe the ideal or restored city (e.g. New Jerusalem text; Reworked Pentateuch; Animal Apocalypse [1 En. 85–90]; 4 Ezra 10:27; Sib. Or. 5.420–32; Tob 13:10, 16). The Temple Scroll contains a detailed plan for the rebuilding of Jerusalem’s Temple that most likely reflects an idealized portrait and not an actual blueprint. Other writers describe a heavenly Jerusalem to contrast the present imperfect city with the perfect one God will bring into existence in the future (e.g. 1 En. 90:28; 2 En. 55:2; 4 Ezra 7:26; 2 Bar. 32:1–5; 68:5–7). In some texts a savior (e.g. Sib. Or. 5.108, 256) or Davidic messiah (Pss. Sol. 17) will purge Jerusalem of its sinners to purify the city. Because of the holy city’s centrality in Jewish history and worship, many Second Temple Jewish authors wrote about diaspora Jews and their relationship with Jerusalem. This was 381

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particularly true in Egypt where, according to the Letter of Aristeas, priests went to translate the Septuagint. This tradition shows the importance of Jerusalem for diaspora Jews. Jewish literature from Egypt, like much of that written in Israel, seeks to guide Jews living there in dealing with pagans and Hellenism (e.g. Sib. Or. 3; Wisdom of Solomon; 3 Macc). Jews appear to have engaged in communal prayer at the time of the daily sacrificial service in Jerusalem (e.g. Jdt 4:11–15; 2 Macc 14:31–36) in times of distress since it was God’s chosen city and the location of the Temple. The recent discovery of the “Heliodorus Stele” sheds new light on the conflict between the Seleucid official Heliodorus and the Temple priests as documented in 2 Maccabees 3–4 and Daniel 11:20, furnishing physical and historical evidence of the conflicts between the Jews and the Seleucid rulers over the spread of Hellenism (Cotton and Gera 2009: 125–55). Archaeological evidence such as Greek inscriptions on coins of high priests, as well as foreign architecture on the Tomb of Jason, provides proof of the pervasive influence of Greek culture on Jewish society in Jerusalem as reflected in Second Temple Jewish literature (Magness 2012: 98–100, 104–7).

Bibliography H. M. Cotton and D. Gera, “Olympiodoros, Heliodoros and the Temples of Koile Syria and Phoinike,” ZPE 169 (2009): 125–55. R. Henderson, Second Temple Songs of Zion (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014). KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Daniel, Book of; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herodians; Jerusalem, Archaeology of; Jerusalem, The New; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Maccabees, Third Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Priesthood; Ptolemies; Seleucids; Temple, Jerusalem; Temple Tax.

Jerusalem, The New The expression “New Jerusalem” refers to an ideal, ultimately eschatological sacred space, the concept of which is first found in Ezekiel (45:6; 48:30–35) and developed in various ways through the Second Temple period. The designation itself originates in the Apocalypse of John (Rev 3:12; 21:2), which depicts it descending from heaven after the creation of a new heaven and new earth (21:9–27). Here is where God will come to dwell with humanity (21:24, 26), a notion derived from Ezekiel, who says the name of the future city shall be “The Lord is there” (48:35). Without using the expression, the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch refers to eschatological Jerusalem as “the new house” (90:29) to be built in place of the “ancient house” (90:28; cf. also Tob 13:16–17), whereas 4 Ezra envisions a city with a narrow entrance (7:7) that will give way to one “that now is not seen” (7:26). Tobit 13 envisions Jerusalem as “his house that will be built for all ages” (v. 13). The Aramaic New Jerusalem Text (NJ ar) from the Dead Sea Scrolls similarly presents Jerusalem within the context of future events (4Q554 13–14.20, 22). Beyond the eschatological dimension, a number of features are ascribed to a new city: waters, architecture, dimensions, walls, temple, precious materials, and function. Waters.  Ezekiel connects this sacred space with eschatological waters which cleanse the land (47:1–12) after a major revolution (39; cf. 1 En. 10:17–11:2, 91:5–9, 106:19–107:1). One of the NJ ar fragments (11Q18 10 i 1) does mention “living waters” (‫מין חיין‬, myn ḥyyn). However, the 382

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text is too fragmentary to infer a more precise context (cf. Zech 13:1; 14:8; Joel 3:18; Rev 21:6; 4Q537 12.2–3). In 2 Baruch a “spring” goes forth from under the city which has the shape of a vine, and developes into a mighty stream (36:3–4). Architecture.  NJ ar offers the most detailed description of the ideal city and its architecture. NJ ar offers the most detailed description of the ideal city and its architecture. Each block consists of an unidentified number of square insulae, each of which consists of 60 identical modules surrounding an open space. Four gate buildings, one on each side, provide access to the interior of an insula. A spiral stair leads to the upper part of each gate. Dimensions.  In Ezekiel the dimensions of the city are announced by means of instructions for building, with the plan forming a square of 4,500 cubits per side (48:30–35). In Revelation the city is measured as a perfect cube, equal in length, width, and height at 12,000 stadia (21:15–16). Likewise in 1 Enoch (90:29) no dimensions are given for the new city; it is merely stated that it will be greater and loftier than the old one. Other texts indicate that the New Jerusalem’s great wall will extend as far as Joppa (Sib. Or. 5.252), whereas others simply praise the new city generally for its vastness (4 Ezra 10:55). Walls.  Zechariah represents the city in two different ways. On the one hand it will be without walls (2:4), with the measurement of this type of city announced (2:1–2) but not carried out. On the other hand, a substantial town planning project is ordered by the Lord, referring to features of the historical city, such as three gates, the tower of Hananel, and the king’s winepresses (14:10). The Testament of Jacob as preserved in the Dead Sea Scrolls mentions the walls of the city (4Q537 2.3). The city in Ezekiel (48:31–34), NJ ar (4Q554 1 i 12—ii 11), and Apocalypse of John (Rev 21:12–13) has twelve gates. Foundations are connected with precious materials in NJ ar (4Q554 2 ii 13–15), as in the Tobit (13:16–17) and Revelation (21:19–20). On the other hand, 4 Ezra (10:27, 53) only refers to the city’s foundations. Temple.  The ideal temple in Jerusalem is described in a variety of ways. According to NJ ar, the temple complex is located at the crossroads of the two widest main arteries of the city. The term hykl (‫ )היכל‬refers to the temple building (e.g. 2Q24 4.3; 11Q18 19.1, 3). Ezekiel locates the city in the southern strip of the tərumā (‫ ;תרומה‬45:6), separated from the northern strip by the part allotted to the Levites (45:4–5). In Revelation the city has no temple at all (21:22), as God and the Lamb are deemed to be its temple. Tobit (13:10b) only mentions the reconstruction of the tabernacle, with depictions focusing on the city itself (13:16). Isaiah (44:28) and Joel (3:18) mention the sanctuary. The Sibylline Oracles (5.422–425) praise an exceedingly beautiful temple. The Testament of Jacob mentions the altar but not the temple (4Q537 xii 2). The Animal Apocalypse in 1 Enoch, 4 Ezra, and 2 Baruch do not refer to any sanctuary at all, while the Apocalypse of Weeks in 1 Enoch refers to the temple as a “house” that will be erected “for the Great Glory for ever” (1 En. 91:13; cf. 93:7). Precious Materials.  Isaiah (54:11–12), NJ ar (4Q554 2 ii 15), Tobit (13:16-17; 4Q196 18.7–9), and Revelation (21:18–21) mention precious materials. NJ ar and Tobit proceed in an almost identical way. In both texts the city streets are/shall be paved with white stones (5Q15 1 i 6; par. 4Q554 1 ii [22]; Tob Vg. 13:17). Similarly, 1 Enoch anticipates that “the new house” will be built with greater ornaments (90:29), and the savior figure of the Sibylline Oracles shall make 383

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the city more brilliant than the luminaries (5.420–421). 4 Ezra, however, praises the splendor of the city in a more general way (10:55). Function.  One may wonder whether the New Jerusalem was envisioned to be a residential, a military, or merely a pilgrimage city. In favor of regarding it as a place for pilgrimage, centered around cult, a number of the sources offer corresponding details. These include its relation to a symposium (Letter of Aristeas §§181–294), i.e., as a place for drinking and eating. This context is suggested by the specific term “couches” as furniture intended for reclining for such a purpose (5Q15 1 ii 10–11 par. 4Q554a 1.[7–8]). The phrase “banquet rooms” (bty mzgʾ, ‫בתי מזגא‬, reconstructed by Puech 2009: 145; cf. Targ. Prov. 23:3), is related to the mixing of wine, an important feature of a symposium. In a number of texts the city seems to be meant for Israel (Ezek 37:23–28; Joel 3:17; 1 En. 90:29, NJ ar at 11Q18 23 ii 7; 25.1; 27.1). On the other hand, Zechariah mentions the inhabitants of the city (2:4) but does not give any further specification. In Tobit (13:11) many nations come to the holy name of the city and bring gifts for the King of Heaven, adoring the Lord and esteeming the land as holy, and in Revelation it is there for the nations and is even accessed by “the kings of the earth” (Rev 21:24, 26). The notion of an eschatological sacred space presupposes a major turn in the course of events, such as a new creation, a restoration of Israel, or even the turning of the nations to Israel’s God. Thus, though in some texts the city’s inhabitants are limited to the people of Israel, in others access to the city can be more broadly extended to humanity. Unusual among the writings referring to the New Jerusalem is the text of NJ ar, on account of the specific references to the insulae as modular components. The temple, when referred to as such, is always located within the city except in Ezekiel and, of course, in Revelation in which it is absent.

Bibliography H. Antonissen, “Banquet Culture in New Jerusalem, an Aramaic Text from Qumran,” in Vision, Narrative, and Wisdom in the Aramaic Texts from Qumran, eds. M. Bundvad and K. Siegismund, STDJ 131 (Leiden, New York: Brill, 2019), 52–67. HUGO ANTONISSEN

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Eschatology; Enoch, First Book of; Ezekiel, Book of; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Isaiah, Book of; Jerusalem, Archaeology of; Jerusalem in Second Temple Literature; Joel, Book of; New Jerusalem, Text; Revelation, Book of; Sibylline Oracles, Fifth Book of; Tobit, Book of; Zechariah, Book of.

Jesus Movement Some scholars of Christian origins prefer the phrase “Jesus movement” over “Christianity” when referring to the group(s) that venerated the memories, teachings, and legends about Jesus of Nazareth from the beginning of his public career until the mid-1st century (ca. 30–50 ce). The shift in nomenclature responds to the concern that “Christianity,” a term not used widely until the mid-1st century or later, is anachronistic when applied to earlier phenomena (e.g. McGinn 2014: 21–24). Although the term “movement” is sometimes applied informally without regard to how sociologists classify a social movement, in fact Jesus’ early following may well display several key characteristics of successful movements: (1) dissatisfaction with particular social problems,

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(2) coalescence around a charismatic personality, (3) a shared ideology, and (4) alternatives to established social norms. 1. Social Problems.  Social movements tend to build a collective identity in reaction to an identified social problem. Widespread dissatisfaction or suffering becomes a groundswell desire for social change. Historians attentive to the sociological definition disagree, however, about which social problem (if any) caused Jesus’ followers initially to coalesce. Some emphasize the agrarian economics of Galilee within the larger Roman Empire. The complaints of agrarians impoverished by increases in Roman taxation and urban consumption might be what prompted Jesus’ many condemnations of material wealth and his care for the disenfranchized (Roleins 2014: 9–43, 199–204). Jesus, on this view, was a promoter of social reform. Others point to the long-standing Jewish frustration with Roman rule and with Jewish social and political institutions (e.g. the Jerusalem Temple) perceived as being complicit with the foreign regime. It is possible that Jesus and his following objected to Roman interference in Jewish life in Judea and Galilee. Jesus’ proclamation about a coming “rule of God” (Mark 1:14–15) might therefore indicate a negative commentary on Roman rule, expressing the eschatological hope that divine intervention and judgment would soon elevate Israel above Rome. Still others would assert that Jesus’ following did not coalesce around one particular social problem and was motivated by a complex of related social and political concerns (Freyne 2014: 52–132). It is also possible that the group was not motivated to reform or revolt against any named problem, and, if so, perhaps the term “movement” is a misnomer as applied to Jesus’ initial following. 2. Charismatic Personality.  Social movements often band together around a charismatic leader who demonstrates extraordinary feats or oratory skill. In his lifetime, Jesus was perceived as a talented exorcist and healer able to enact divine power through the spoken word. His reputed powers over the demonic probably drew crowds from which his earliest following emerged. He was also a memorable teacher and storyteller, instructing his disciples and sometimes larger crowds with lessons about agrarian dilemmas, power dynamics, family relationships, and controversial claims that may have caused discomfort among his hearers. Extraordinary feats—such as prophetic speech or speaking in other languages (including supposed angelic languages)—continued as expressions of worship among Jesus’ followers after his departure. Such expressions signified the presence of the divine among Jesus’ followers. 3. Shared Ideology.  While it is difficult to determine the ideology around which Jesus’ initial following rallied, after the crucifixion the movement’s belief system centered on the assumed resurrection of Jesus. Members of the movement believed that the exalted Jesus, now identified as God’s son, had overcome death and would soon return to redeem Israel. Baptism became the ritual whereby believers could participate in the death and resurrection of Jesus, become born anew, and as such participate in the redemption. In time the movement expanded geographically (e.g. Damascus, Antioch) and demographically, offering gentiles the opportunity to be baptized and to participate in redemption alongside Israel. As gentiles began to swell the movement’s ranks in venues outside the land of Israel, greater variety emerged (Stegemann and Stegemann 2001: 249–358). While the resurrection of Jesus remained the core commitment, disputes developed over its meaning and implications, particularly 385

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regarding the Jewish character of the movement. Under the influence of Paul especially, many believers abandoned the law of Moses (e.g. circumcision, keeping kosher, observing Sabbath). It is possible that Jesus’ following sought to reform or even replace the Jerusalem Temple. Jesus is remembered for criticizing the Jerusalem Temple establishment and claiming that the Temple would be destroyed (and perhaps rebuilt by divine intervention). Acts portrays Jesus’ following as a new and improved Temple leadership, and Paul describes the community of Christ as a temple of the Holy Spirit. Thus, Jews who venerated Jesus may well have diminished their allegiance to the Jerusalem Temple and its priesthood. Whereas the Temple served as the epicenter of Israel’s worship, common wealth, and social power, early Christians projected similar significance onto Jesus. 4. Alternatives to Established Social Norms.  The shift away from traditional Temple ideology led those who venerated Jesus to seek divine presence within their smaller communities, which they sometimes referred to collectively as the “body of Christ.” As such the group functioned as a type of sanctuary. Many members of the group consolidated assets to form a community of common wealth. The groups also described themselves in familial terms (e.g. brother, sister). Allegiance to Jesus often proved more important than biological bonds. Some even forsook marriage and family life to show greater devotion to the community. Accordingly, Jesus became the “head” or common patron (the paterfamilias) under which these Christian families were united. It is perhaps this feature that most separated Jesus’ followers from other Jewish groups within the Second Temple period.

Bibliography S. Freyne, The Jesus Movement and Its Expansion: Meaning and Mission (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014). S. McGinn, The Jesus Movement and the World of the Early Church (Winona: Anselm Academic, 2014). S. E. Rollens, Framing Social Criticism in the Jesus Movement: The Ideological Project in the Sayings Gospel Q, WUNT II 374 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). E. W. Stegemann and W. Stegemann, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of Its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001). ANTHONY LE DONNE AND JOSHUA D. GARROWAY

Related entries: Angels; Eschatology; Luke-Acts; Miracles and Miracle Workers; Son of God.

Jesus of Nazareth Introduction.  Jesus of Nazareth was a 1st-century ce teacher, messianic figure, and apocalyptic Jewish prophet who was active in Galilee and Judea. The earliest sources for his life are the writings of Paul of Tarsus and the four Gospels of the New Testament, all of which date roughly from the second half of the 1st century ce to the turn of the century. Outside writings composed by Jesus’ followers, Jesus is mentioned by the 1st-century Jewish historian Josephus (Ant. 18.63–64; 20.200, the former reference embellished by Christian scribes), the 2nd-century Roman historians Pliny the Younger (Ep. 96), Suetonius (Claud. 25.4), Tacitus (Ann. 15.44), and the 2nd-century satirist Lucian of Samosata (Peregr. 11). Early Career.  Jesus was raised in Galilee, which was also the center of his early career. After initial involvement with the prophet John the Baptist, Jesus embarked on an independent career around the age of 30 (Luke 3:23). He began by teaching and preaching in Galilean synagogues 386

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and villages, as well as healing maladies and exorcizing demons. In addition to fanfare in Galilee, he experienced rejection in his hometown of Nazareth (Mark 6 pars. Matt 13, Luke 4; cf. also John 4:44). The Gospels of Mark and Matthew attribute this rejection to the fact that Jesus or his father was an artisan (Mark 6:3 par. Matt 13:55): i.e. Jesus was not from the class of formal scribal authorities (Mark 1:22 par. Matt 7:29; cf. Luke 4:32). Although the Gospels refer to many followers of Jesus, they also identify a specially chosen “twelve” as his closest disciples (Mark 13:14–19; Matt 10:2–4; Luke 6:13–16; John 6:67, 70–71, 20:24). The tradition of “the twelve” appears before the Gospels in Paul (1 Cor 5:15) and then later in Acts (Acts 1:21–26). The Gospels’ lists of the disciples’ names deviate, but most scholars agree that Jesus appointed a specific twelve, and did so as a symbolic representation of the reconstitution of the twelve tribes of Israel (Schröter 2014: 105–8). The eschatological reconstitution of ancient Israel coheres strongly with Jesus’ teachings on the coming kingdom of God, and it is in these teachings that Jesus most clearly appears as an apocalyptic prophet (Allison 2010: 31–220). Jesus was remembered as someone who frequently spoke of the kingdom of God as a future realization of God’s reign, such as when he states that the disciples will offer an eschatological judgment of the twelve tribes (Luke 22:30). However, Jesus was also remembered as someone who asserted that the God of Israel’s anticipated victory was, in some sense, presently realized in his ministry, as evidenced by his successful exorcism ministry (Matt 12:28 par. Luke 11:20) or his claim that the kingdom is “in” or “among” his listening audience (Luke 17:21). By associating the impending coming of the kingdom with his, and his disciples’, present ministry, Jesus assigned to himself a central role in this kingdom of God, and the title of “Christ” (or “Messiah”) that others used for him, a term for the expected Davidic king, as well as his eventual crucifixion as a claimant to being “King of the Jews,” cohere with this aspect of his teaching. Some scholars argue that Jesus considered his kingdom to be an anti-imperial challenge to Rome (e.g. Horsley 2003; see Matt 10:34 or Mark 5:1–13 par. Luke 8:26–32), though it must be noted that Jesus is also sometimes presented in the sources as someone unconcerned with a direct challenge to Rome (consider Mark 12:17 par. Matt 22:21 or John 18:36). Conflict and Death.  Regardless of what Jesus himself thought about the kingdom of God visà-vis Rome, preaching an impending eschatological judgment, a king other than Caesar, and a kingdom other than Rome would easily have made Jesus and his movement a potential threat to peace in the eyes of both Jewish and Roman political authorities. This is especially the case if Jesus’ message and actions occurred in Jerusalem during Passover, a time in which Jews annually celebrated God’s act of ridding his people of foreign rule in the exodus from Egypt under Moses. The Roman prefect Pilate had come to Jerusalem from his residence at Caesarea Maritima, presumably to prevent any possible turmoil. Jesus’ actions in the Jerusalem Temple of disrupting the moneychangers and thus the functioning of the Temple would have done nothing to dampen any concerns the authorities had about him (Sanders 1985: 61–90). Most scholars agree that these actions were a prophetic destruction of the Temple rather than an attempt to “cleanse” it, and thus a deliberate criticism of the Jewish authorities who oversaw the Temple. In this sense, although Jesus’ ministry experienced some degree of conflict from the outset, especially in his battles over Jewish tradition and authority with established scribal authorities (Keith 2014), the conflict over Jesus reached new heights in Jerusalem during Passover due to this distinct combination of factors. A threat to public order, combined with a reputation as a messianic claimant, among other factors, led to Jesus’ crucifixion by the Roman prefect Pontius Pilate. 387

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Resurrection and Worship.  Within a relatively short amount of time after his death, Jesus’ followers began to claim that he had been raised bodily from the grave to a new sort of physical and spiritual existence and that he had appeared to various followers. Paul already speaks of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead in his earliest epistles (e.g. 1 Thess 1:10; Gal 1:1), and each of the four earliest Gospels, as well as the later Gospel of Peter, include the tradition of the empty tomb. Alongside these claims, followers of Jesus began identifying him as, or in terms of, the one God of Israel. This development had already occurred by the time of the Christ hymn of Philippians 2:1–11, an early tradition dateable at least to Paul’s authorship of the epistle in the 50s or early 60s ce. Here Paul attributes to Jesus’ pre-existence (Phil 2:6), identifies Jesus as kyrios (κύριος, “Lord”) and thus one who shares in the “name” of God (Phil 2:9–10), and describes Jesus as an object of worship (Phil 2:10–11). By the early 2nd century, Roman observers also noted that Christians sang to Jesus “as if to a god” (Pliny, Ep. 96). The Historical Jesus and Methodology.  A perennial issue in the scholarly study of Jesus is how to distinguish between the “historical Jesus,” a phrase that refers generally to the man who taught in Galilee and Judea in the late 20s or early 30s ce, and the portrayals of him offered in the earliest sources, all of which are written from later perspectives of Christological belief (for an overview, see Bond 2012: 7–53). Since at least the 1950s, the dominant method has been to separate “authentic” and “inauthentic” traditions in the Gospel narratives by means of so-called “criteria of authenticity.” These criteria were designed to separate individual traditions from the interpretive frameworks of the Gospels, thereby theoretically providing access to the historical Jesus “behind” the interpretations of him in the sources. Scholars would thus proceed to construct the historical Jesus only with those traditions deemed “authentic.” This method perhaps reached full maturity in Meier’s five-volume A Marginal Jew (Meier 1991–2016). These criteria have been critiqued heavily since the 1970s, however (Hooker 1972; Theissen and Winter 2002). As a particularly problematic example, the criterion of dissimilarity severs Jesus from his Jewish context by asserting that a tradition is more likely to originate with the historical Jesus if its ideas are unlike those attested in Second Temple Judaism and also unlike those attested among Jesus’ followers. As other scholars have embraced the irreducibly hermeneutical nature of both the tradition and the historiographical task, and therefore become increasingly skeptical that historians can separate the tradition cleanly into “authentic” and “inauthentic” categories, they have argued that the criteria of authenticity should be either abandoned or seriously reformulated (Keith and Le Donne 2012). Such criticisms have paved the way for a new stage of historical Jesus research that insists that any theorized historical Jesus must be capable of accounting for the later interpretations of him that exist.

Bibliography D. C. Allison Jr., Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010). H. K. Bond, The Historical Jesus: A Guide for the Perplexed (London: T&T Clark, 2012). M. D. Hooker, “On Using the Wrong Tool,” Theology 75 (1972): 574–81. R. A. Horsley, Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2003). C. Keith, Jesus against the Scribal Elite: The Origins of the Conflict (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014). 388

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C. Keith and A. Le Donne, eds., Jesus, Criteria, and the Demise of Authenticity (London: T&T Clark, 2012). J. P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, 5 vols. (New York: Doubleday; New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991–2016). E. P. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985). J. Schröter, Jesus of Nazareth: Jew from Galilee, Savior of the World (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2014). G. Theissen and D. Winter, The Quest for the Plausible Jesus: The Question of Criteria, trans. M. E. Boring (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002). CHRIS KEITH

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; John, Gospel of; Luke-Acts; Mark, Gospel of; Matthew, Gospel of; Messianism; Roman Governors.

Jewelry “Jewelry” includes every item of personal adornment appreciated for its aesthetic and value. Apart from being a piece of art or a work of fine craftsmanship, jewelry was (and still is) a token of social, religious, or political status. Hence the study of jewelry involves a wide range of disciplines and approaches such as art history, archaeology, metallurgy, gemology, and the history of technology. The study of the artisans producing jewelry involves disciplines such as history and sociology, and its cultural aspects can be studied by applying anthropological and sociological methods. Knowledge of jewelry of the Second Temple period is based on archaeological finds and literary sources. Most of the archaeological evidence has been gathered from funerary contexts, reflecting the custom of burying the dead with their personal belongings (Hachlili 2005; Galor 2010; for the Persian period, see Stern 1982). This fact distorts the modern perception of the ancient cultural use of jewelry and sheds no light on the items’ daily use. Although there is evidence that both women and men used jewelry, most of the items discovered in burial sites were found in women’s graves. Other—unfortunately, very sporadic—finds come from daily life settings. The items found in the Second Temple period contexts seem to correspond to jewelry finds from neighboring countries, featuring a characteristic fusion of western and eastern influences (Ogdan 1981); unless recovered from a clearly Jewish context, it is difficult to determine whether they were Jewish or otherwise. The repertoire of the Second Temple period jewelry includes hairpins (Figure 4.61), diadems, earrings and nose rings, necklaces, armlets and bracelets (Figure 4.62),

Figure 4.61  Hairpin from Omrit (early Roman period). 389

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Figure 4.62  Iron bracelet from Omrit (early Roman period).

and finger rings. Various pins and brooches were tied on the clothes. In later sources, cosmetic utensils were defined as part of women’s jewelry (Grossmark 2010). Most of the objects found in graves are trinkets made of simple, inexpensive materials. Expensive jewelry and its use are known mainly from literary sources. There is scant literary evidence of jewelry or jewelry-making prior to the Hellenistic period. Short references to the goldsmithing work of the menorah and the priests’ crowns are found in the text of the Second Temple prophet Zechariah (Zech 4 and 6); another verse refers to silver and gold work (Zech 13). Sporadic references to silver, gold, and precious stones occur in other Second Temple writings. Literary evidence of jewelry from the Hellenistic and early Roman periods can be seen in the various Second Temple books, in the New Testament, and in the writings of Josephus. Data found in the Second Temple period books are usually limited to references to gold and precious stones in allegories. Rarely does one find a jewel referred to by name (Sir 2:5–6; 21:21) or a description of a metalsmith at work (38:27–28). The Letter of Aristeas (2nd cent. bce) describes the gold items donated by Ptolemy Philadelphus (285–247 bce) to the Jerusalem Temple, with reference to their craftsmanship (Let. Aris. 52–65; cf. Josephus, Ant. 12.60–84), probably reflecting the wealth and splendor of Hellenistic Alexandria. A negative attitude toward the making and use of jewelry can be traced in some of these books. A good example is 1 Enoch 8:1–2, attributing the knowledge of making jewelry to Asael, who taught humans to produce armor and jewelry, both of which became sources of corruption and destruction (see also: 1 En. 9:6). Although not directed at the upper classes and not presented in opposition to the wealthy, the allocation of jewelry (side by side with armor) as the source of corruption of humanity is a sharp arrow of criticism directed against those who could afford the use of expensive jewelry. In the Testament of Reuben (5:1–5) the use of jewelry and makeup by women is associated with seduction and witchcraft, and the author warns men to prevent their own wives and daughters from using jewelry. The critique of wearing jewelry in this text is gender inclined. The contribution of Second Temple period historiographical texts to modern knowledge of jewelry is also rather limited. Golden wreaths given as tributes of loyalty or political friendship are mentioned a few times only (1 Macc 13:37; 2 Macc 14:4; Josephus, Ant. 13.45), and Josephus also writes about the costly jewels that were buried with King Herod (Ant. 17.196–197). References to jewelry in the New Testament are confined to only a few short texts, e.g., rings (Luke 15:22), golden girdles (Rev 15:6), golden crowns (Rev 3:11; 4:4; 14:14), and a

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negative reference to women’s adornments (1 Pet 3:3). A few texts refer to precious stones (Rev 4:3; 1 Cor 3:12) and mention is made of a merchant in search of a pearl of great value (Matt 13:45–46). The most important text pertaining to precious stones is found in chapter 21 of the Apocalypse of John (21:18–21), in the description of the heavenly Jerusalem. This text has been thoroughly studied and is of some importance for the study of gemological knowledge during the Roman period (Jart 1970).

Bibliography K. Galor, “Jewelry: The Archaeological Evidence,” OHDL (2010), 393–402. T. Grossmark, “Jewelry: The Literary Evidence,” OHDL (2010), 382–92. R. Hachlili, “Grave Goods,” Jewish Funerary Customs: Practices and Rites in the Second Temple Period (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 375–446. U. Jart, “The Precious Stones in the Revelation of St. John XXI 18–21,” ST 24 (1970): 150–81. J. Ogden, Jewelry of the Ancient World (London: The British Museum Press, 1981). E. E. Platt, “Jewelry of the Bible Times and the Catalogue of Isa. 3:18–23,” AUSS 17 (1979): 71–84; 189–201. TZIONA GROSSMARK

Related entries: Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Burial Practices; Clothing and Dress; Fallen Angels; Heaven; High Priests; Josephus, Writings of; Jerusalem, The New; Priesthood; Revelation, Book of; Wealth and Poverty.

Jewish-Christianity Jewish-Christianity and Judeo-Christianity are synonymous terms used to refer to a religious phenomenon in which Judaism and Christianity are combined. The terms are problematic in that they imply a “parting of the ways” (separation of Christianity from Judaism), and thus some find them inappropriate (Boyarin 2009) or requiring careful refinement (Taylor 1990). Nevertheless, numerous groups are placed under the umbrella term (for surveys see Mimouni 1998; Carleton Paget 2007, 2010; Broadhead 2010: 6–58). Scholars have determined that Jewish-Christians should be defined primarily either by their maintenance of Jewish/Torah-observance (Simon 1964; Taylor 1990), a heterodox Christology (Longenecker 1970), a system of doctrines leading from the Jerusalem church to the Ebionites (Schoeps 1949) or by a system of theological concepts (Daniélou 1958). If one of these should be given the most weight, it is usually now Torah-observance (see Carleton Paget 2007), though Skarsaune and Hvalvik (2007) chose to make ethnicity the dominant criterion for their study. Nevertheless, the praxis of Judaism is defined as the hallmark of Jewish believers in Christ (= Ebionites) by Origen (Cels. 2:.1) when otherwise ancient authors write of Jews who convert to Christianity as normatively going over to a new religion and a new life (Ignatius, Magn. 9; Celsus, in Origen, Cels. 2.1; Jerome, Epist. 125.12; Cod. Theod. 16.8.1; 16.8.5; 16.8.28). Initially there were people who allegedly wanted gentiles to embrace Torah-observance (= “Judaizers,” Gal 2:14; Acts 15), while later others simply wanted to live without interference from Christians who believed that the praxis of Judaism was incompatible with Christian belief (see Justin Martyr, Dial. 47, cf. 46.1–2). Some apparent Judaizers may have been gentiles who wished to follow a Jewish lifestyle (Ignatius, Phld. 6; Sergius the Stylite, Disp. 22.15; Cod. Theod. 16.8.19; Cod. Just. 1.9). The Ebionites could be defined as rejecting the virgin birth 391

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of Jesus and dismissing the writings of the apostle Paul, since Paul was an apostate from the law (Irenaeus, Haer. 1.26.2; 5.1.3; Hippolytus, Haer. 1.34.1–2; 10.22.1; Origen, Hom. Luc. 17; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 3.27.1–6; Epiphanius, Pan. 30). However, Origen defines two schools of Ebionites: one that believed in the virgin birth and one that did not, though both rejected the letters of Paul (Origen, Cels. 5.61, 65, cf. 2.1). The question of the relationship of later groups with the “mother” church in Jerusalem remains disputed, though there was a tradition that the Jerusalem church escaped and fled to Pella prior to 68 ce (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 3.5.3; Epiphanius, Pan. 29.7.7–8; 30.2.7; De Mens. et Pond. 15; for critique see Lüdemann 1980). Rabbinic references to minim likely include JewishChristians, but there is much debate about whether the Birkat ha-Minim involved a specific denunciation of Jewish-Christians as such and the form of the curse at different times (Kimelman 1981; Broadhead 2010: 288–290; Taylor 2013: 98–100; Cohen 2013). A Jewish-Christian group lived in the region of Syria and the Golan in the 4th and 5th centuries (Epiphanius, Pan. 29.1.1–9.4; Jerome, Comm. Isa. 8.14.19–22; 9.1–4; 29.17–21; 31.6–9). They were called Nazoreans, a term that in Aramaic (Syriac) just indicated “Christians” (cf. Heb. Notserim). They kept the study of Hebrew, circumcised their sons, kept the Sabbath, and so on (Epiphanius, Pan. 29.5.4; 29.8.1–3), but theologically they were orthodox: they used both the Old and New Testaments, including the letters of Paul and a Gospel of Matthew in Hebrew, and were accepted by other Christians. Since Christianity began as a movement within Judaism (cf. Acts 24:5; Taylor 2011), later attestations of Jewish-Christians bear upon the New Testament evidence of conflict about maintaining the law (Gal 2–3; Acts 10, 15; see Jackson and McCabe 2007). Studies of the Gospel of Matthew have noted that nothing within it indicates abrogation of Torah, despite its condemnation of Pharisaic hypocrisy and Jerusalem (Matt 23; 27:20–26; Runesson 2008). It has been considered that the Letter of James and Didache are indicative of a certain type of JewishChristianity (van der Sante and Zangenberg 2008), as also are Hebrews and Jude (Witherington 2007). Beyond writings in the New Testament, there are Jewish-Christian Gospels identified by early Christian writers. The Gospel of the Ebionites and the Gospel of the Nazoreans were likely Hebrew versions of the Gospel of Matthew (Irenaeus, Haer. 1.26.2; 3.11.7; 3.21.1; 5.1.3; Jerome, Pelag. 3.2; Epiphanius, Pan. 29.9.4; 30.13.2–3), and thus readings from the former are included in certain biblical manuscripts, while another, the Gospel of the Hebrews, is non-Matthaean and probably originated in Egypt (Broadhead 2010: 255–67). The Pseudo-Clementine corpus emphasizes the authority of Peter against Paul (Jones 1995) in a struggle to define Christian origins in the 4th century, as explored by Reed (2008). All of this testifies to the existence of Torahobservant Christian groups of various kinds from Second Temple times to the Byzantine era.

Bibliography D. Boyarin, “Rethinking Jewish Christianity: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (to which is appended a correction of my border lines),” JQR 99 (2009): 7–36. E. Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). J. Carleton Paget, “The Definition of the Terms Jewish Christian and Jewish Christianity in the History of Research,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, ed. O. Skasaune and R. Hvalvik (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007), 22–52. J. Carleton Paget, “The Ebionites in Recent Research,” in Jews, Christians and Jewish Christians in Antiquity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 325–79. 392

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S.J. D. Cohen, “In Between: Jewish-Christians and the Curse of the Heretics,” in Partings: How Judaism and Christianity Became Two, ed. H. Shanks (Washington: Biblical Archaeology Society, 2013), 207–36. J. Daniélou, Théologie du Judéo-Christianisme. Histoire des Doctrines Chrétiennes avant Nicée 1 (Paris: Desclée, 1958). M. Jackson-McCabe, ed., Jewish Christianity Reconsidered: Rethinking Ancient Groups and Texts (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007). F. S. Jones, An Ancient Jewish Christian Source on the History of Christianity: Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions 1.27–71, Texts and Translations 37 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995). R. Kimelman, “Birkat ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition. Vol. 2, Aspects of Judaism in the Graeco-Roman Period, ed. E. P. Sanders, A. I. Baumgarten, and A. Mendelson (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 226–44. R. N. Longenecker, The Christology of Early Jewish-Christianity (London: SCM, 1970). G. Lüdemann, “The Successors of Pre-70 Jerusalem Christianity: A Critical Evaluation of the Pella Tradition,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, ed. E. P. Sanders, vol. 1 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), 161–73, 245–54. S. C. Mimouni, Le judéo-christianisme ancien: Essais historiques, Patrimoines (Paris: Cerf, 1998). A. Y. Reed, “‘Jewish Christianity’ as Counter-History? The Apostolic Past in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History and the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies,” in Antiquity in Antiquity: Jewish and Christian Pasts in the Greco-Roman World, ed. G. Gardner and K. Osterloh (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 173–216. A. Runesson, “Rethinking Early Jewish–Christian Relations: Matthean Community History as Pharisaic Intragroup Conflict,” JBL 127 (2008): 95–132. H. J. Schoeps, Theologie und Geschichte des Judenchristentums (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1949). M. Simon, Verus Israel. Étude sur les relations entre chrétiens et juifs dans l'empire romain (135–425), 2nd ed. (Paris: de Boccard, 1964). O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik, eds., Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007). J. E. Taylor, “The Phenomenon of Early Jewish-Christianity: Reality or Scholarly Invention?” VC 44 (1990): 313–34. J. E. Taylor, “The Nazoraeans as a ‘Sect’ in ‘Sectarian Judaism? A Reconsideration of the Current View via the Narrative of Acts and the Meaning of Hairesis,” in Sects and Sectarianism in Jewish History, ed. S. Stern (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 87–118. J. E. Taylor, “Parting in Palestine,” in Partings: How Judaism and Christianity Became Two, ed. H. Shanks (Washington: Biblical Archaeology Society, 2013), 87–104. H. M. van de Sandt and J. K. Zangenberg, eds., Matthew, James, and Didache: Three Related Documents in Their Jewish and Christian Setting, SBL Symposium series 45 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008). B. Witherington, Letters and Homilies for Jewish Christians: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on Hebrews, James and Jude (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2007). JOAN E. TAYLOR

Related entries: Apostasy; Circumcision; James, Epistle of; Jesus of Nazareth; Jude, Epistle of; Peter, Epistles of; Pauline Letters; Pharisees; Sectarianism.

John the Baptist John the Baptist remains an enigmatic figure in the New Testament and Second Temple Judaism. He is mentioned in the Synoptic Gospels (e.g. Matt chs. 3, 11, 14, 21; Mark 1, 2, 6, 11; Luke 3, 7, 20), John’s Gospel (1, 10), the book of Acts (e.g. 1:5; 10:37; 11:16; 13:24, 25; 19:3–4), and Josephus (Ant. 18.116–119), as well as being mentioned or alluded to in a variety of non-canonical texts (e.g. Gos. Naz. 2; Gos. Eb. 2–4; Gos. Heb. 2; Gos. Thom. 46, 78, 104; 393

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Prot. Jas. 8.3; 10:2; 12; 22–24), as well as other Christian literature (e.g. Justin, Dial. 49; 88; Ps.-Clem., Recog. 1.53–54; 1.60; Hom. 2.17; Hom. 2.23–24 par. Recog. 2.8; Hom. 3.22; cf. Backhaus 2011: 1751–52; Webb 1994: 185–86). The nuanced presentation of John the Baptist (“John the Baptizer” in Mark 1:4, 14) in the New Testament consistently regards him as a forerunner of Jesus who attracted people to hear his message and called his hearers to a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins (Mark 1:4) or to repentance because the kingdom of heaven is at hand (Matt 3:2). He baptized in the Jordan River, as well as in Bethany, Aenon, and places beyond the Jordan (John 1:28; 3:23; 10:40). John wore camel’s hair clothing and a leather belt, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He anticipated a subsequent figure who would baptize not with water but with the Holy Spirit. Jesus was identified by John as that figure, and, though Matthew depicts John as being reluctant (Matt 3:14), he baptized Jesus also. John’s bold proclamation put him in conflict with Herod Antipas, who imprisoned him because John condemned Herod’s marrying his brother’s wife. Herod’s wife Herodias contrived to get Herod to behead John (Matt 14:1–12; Mark 6:14–29: Luke 3:18–20; 9:9). John is at various times said to be a prophet or linked to various prophets and their messages, such as Isaiah and Jeremiah (Matt 16:14; 21:26; Mark 8:28; 11:32; Luke 9:19; 20:6). Josephus (Ant. 18.116–119) says John attracted the attention of the people (his death was linked to Herod’s defeat by Aretas), proclaimed a message regarding one’s relationship to God, practiced baptism as a confirmation of such behavior (rather than as a sign of repentance as in the Gospels), and had a following that aroused Herod’s suspicions of a revolt and prompted his execution of him. John’s activities have resulted in speculation that he had associations with Qumran or at least the Essenes. These possible correspondences include gaps in the New Testament account of John’s life that suggest possible contact with Qumran; his ascetic lifestyle, including his clothing and diet (cf. CD A xii 14–15; Jerome, Jov. 2.14); the notion that he lived in the “wilderness” or “desert” (cf. 1QS viii 12–14; ix 19–20); his use of Scripture, in particular Isaiah 40:3 and 61:1–2 (cf. 1QS viii 12–14; ix 19–20; 4Q521); his message of repentance linked with water baptism (cf. 1QS ii 25–iii 9; iv 19–22; v 13–15; ix 9–10; CD A x 10–13; xi 1; 1QM xiv 2–3; 11Q19 xlv 8–9); and the concepts of baptism with the spirit and fire (cf. 1QS iii 20–21, 24–25). Despite similarities, most scholars remain skeptical of the linkage. More likely, both the Qumranites and John characteristically enacted similar Second Temple Jewish practices (Porter 2013). More important is whether John the Baptist was a prophet or a purifier, or both. The traditional view of John is as a popular prophetic figure who helped inaugurate the Jesus movement through his eschatological call to repentance, conversion, and baptism, with baptism probably (though not necessarily) being an initiatory act. John is often seen as having typological characteristics of several prophets of the Hebrew Bible such as Elijah, Malachi, and Isaiah, as well as Joshua. This view of John the Baptist is still held by most scholars, including Scobie (1964), Wink (1968), and Webb (1994), among many others. More recent interpretation of John has observed that correlations between Jesus and John in the New Testament are too neat and that many of John’s practices, such as water ablutions, their practice in places other than the Jordan, and even his message, are more Jewish than Christian (Chilton 2002). In response, some scholars claim that John engaged in repeated water ablutions as a means of purification, signaling the return of the one baptized to a condition of purity and righteousness. This behavior was practiced by other Jewish groups of the time, including those at Qumran, and this is how John is depicted by 394

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Josephus. John’s proclamation may have had an eschatological element to it, but his primary purpose was purification. This recent view is held by such scholars as Chilton (2002) and Taylor (1997), while Evans (2002: 70) regards the two views as compatible and Backhaus (2011: 1762) considers these positions ambiguous.

Bibliography K. Backhaus, “Echoes from the Wilderness: The Historical John the Baptist,” in Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus, ed. T. Holmén and S. E. Porter, 4 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 2:1747–86. B. Chilton, “John the Baptist: His Immersion and His Death,” in Dimensions of Baptism: Biblical and Theological Studies, ed. S. E. Porter and A. R. Cross (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2002), 25–44. C. A. Evans, “The Baptism of John in a Typological Context,” in Dimensions of Baptism: Biblical and Theological Studies, ed. S. E. Porter and A. R. Cross (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2002), 45–71. J. Marcus, John the Baptist in History and Theology (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2018). S. E. Porter, “Was John the Baptist a Member of the Qumran Community? Once More,” in Christian Origins and Hellenistic Judaism: Social and Literary Contexts for the New Testament, ed. S. E. Porter and A. W. Pitts, ECHC 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 283–314. C. H. H. Scobie, John the Baptist (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1964). J. E. Taylor, The Immerser: John the Baptist within Second Temple Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997). W. Wink, John the Baptist in the Gospel Tradition, SNTSMS 7 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968). R. L. Webb, “John the Baptist and His Relationship to Jesus,” in Studying the Historical Jesus: Evaluations of the State of Current Research, ed. B. Chilton and C. A. Evans (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 179–230. STANLEY E. PORTER

Related entries: Clothing and Dress; Conversion and Proselytism; Diet in Palestine; Eschatology; Herodians; Herod the Great; Jerusalem in Second Temple Literature; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; John, Gospel of; Josephus, Writings of; Judea; Kingdom of God; Luke-Acts; Mark, Gospel of; Matthew, Gospel of; Miqvaʾot; Persecution, Religious; Purification and Purity; Repentance; Righteousness and Justice.

Jonathan Jonathan took over leadership of the Maccabean forces following the death of his brother, Judas, and ruled 161–143/2 bce. Information about him and, in particular, his reign may be reconstructed on the basis of several sources composed during the Second Temple period: 1 Maccabees (chs. 2; 9:23–12:53), 2 Maccabees (8:22), and the works of Josephus (J.W. 1.48–49; Ant. 12.266–13.212). He was apparently the youngest of the five sons of Mattathias. He was also called Apphus. It is uncertain why he became leader instead of one of his older siblings, but Josephus claims that the friends of Judas asked him to be their chief. At the time he took power, Seleucid forces had driven the Maccabean army from Judea and Alcimus was high priest. In 160 bce, following the death of Alcimus, the Seleucid ruler Demetrius I ordered his commander Bacchides to invade Judea. In 159 bce, Jonathan and his brother Simon defeated Bacchides and made a treaty with him. In 152 bce both of the men fighting for the Seleucid throne, the reigning monarch Demetrius I and the pretender Alexander Balas, sought Jonathan’s support. Jonathan backed Balas to gain Seleucid recognition of his position as high priest, and Jonathan was installed during the Festival of Tabernacles. Balas defeated and killed Demetrius I in battle the following year. 395

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Jonathan remained loyal to Balas when Demetrius II tried to regain his father’s kingdom. Demetrius II appointed Apollonius as governor of Coele-Syria. Jonathan defeated Apollonius and conquered additional Syrian territory. Jonathan also tried to take advantage of the Seleucid civil war by besieging the Syrian fortress known as the Akra in Jerusalem. Some Jews opposed to Jonathan supported its Seleucid garrison. Demetrius II, however, decided to make a pact with Jonathan; in exchange for tribute to fill the depleted Syrian treasury, Demetrius recognized Jonathan as high priest and as governor of Judea and the three districts of Samaria. When Tryphon (Diodotus), a general of Alexander Balas, proclaimed Antiochus VI king, Demetrius II tried to win Jonathan’s support by giving him significant land concessions. Demetrius II also ordered the removal of Seleucid garrisons from Jerusalem in exchange for Hasmonean troops to fight Tryphon. In response, Jonathan helped Demetrius II subdue a revolt in Antioch. When Demetrius II reneged on the promises he had made, however, Jonathan switched sides and backed the young Antiochus VI and Tryphon. Tryphon let Jonathan keep all the privileges Demetrius II had given him, including the office of high priest. He also appointed Jonathan’s brother, Simon, governor of the coastal area “from the Ladder of Tyre to the borders of Egypt” (1 Macc 11:59). Jonathan decided to follow the example of his late brother, Judas, and send a delegation to Rome to renew his family’s treaty. His mission to Rome in 144 bce took place a year or two after the republic’s victory in the Achaean war, at a time when the Romans were becoming more interested in Middle Eastern affairs. According to 1 Maccabees (cf. 12:1–18), Jonathan also sent an embassy to Sparta. Before long Tryphon began to worry about the growing power of the Hasmoneans. He tricked Jonathan into accompanying him to Ptolemais with only a small bodyguard and arrested the Judean leader when he had the chance. Simon’s efforts to pay the requested ransom to release his sibling proved futile. In the meantime Tryphon tried to take advantage of the turmoil in Judea to invade Jerusalem, but a heavy snow storm prevented him from reaching the city. Shortly afterward, in 143/2 bce, Tryphon murdered Jonathan. Simon gained possession of his brother’s bones and buried them beside his parents and his three siblings in Modein, erecting a large sepulchral monument over their graves. Jonathan was a skilled military commander. He carefully planned his campaigns to prepare for the creation of an independent state, limiting them to economically and militarily important sites and largely forgoing agriculturally advantageous ones. This suggests that he had a coordinated plan to win independence through both conquest and treaty. Demetrius II was unable to curtail this Hasmonean expansion because of his war with Tryphon. The extant sources do not record the name of any high priest for the seven-year period, known as the intersacerdotium, from the death of Alcimus to Jonathan’s 152 bce appointment to this office. It is unknown what took place during this period. If the identification of Jonathan as the “Wicked Priest” of the Dead Sea Scrolls is correct (so, e.g., Vermes 2004: 340), this may suggest that some Jews objected to the manner through which he became high priest during this time. It is possible that Jonathan removed some unknown high priest from power (Atkinson 2016: 33).

Bibliography See General Bibliography. KENNETH ATKINSON

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Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Judas Maccabeus; Maccabean Revolt; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Priesthood; Seleucids.

Joseph The story of Joseph in Genesis 37–50 decribes how Jacob’s son Joseph was hated and almost killed by his brothers and finally sold by them to some merchants who brought him to Egypt. He became a steward in the house of Potiphar, one of pharaoh’s officals, but following a confrontation with Potiphar’s wife, he was falsely accused and sent to prison. He succeeded in interpreting pharaoh’s dreams, after which he was appointed by pharaoh to be his second-incommand. Apart from a few slightly negative depictions of Joseph (Gen 37:2, 10), the overall picture is thoroughly positive. He is a pious man who, in spite of setbacks, remains faithful to God. The references to Joseph in Deuteronomy 33:13–17 and Psalm 105:16–22 reflect the same positive image. On the other hand, as the ancestor of the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh, and therefore, as the founder of the Northern Kingdom of Israel (also called “the house of Joseph”), which rejected the house of David, Joseph was blamed for the misbehavior of his descendants by certain Israelites and Jews (see, e.g., Ps 78:67; Amos 5:6; 6:6; and particularly the Hebrew Testament of Naphtali, a medieval document which seems to refer back to a much older Jewish work, most probably dating from the Second Temple period, and which calls Joseph a “wicked” man and holds him responsible for his descendants’ apostasy and subsequent exile). The authors of the Jewish “apocryphal” and “pseudepigraphical” writings unanimously consider Joseph to be one of the great Israelite forefathers. They all base their conclusions on the account in Genesis and refer to Joseph’s extraordinary wisdom (in particular his ability to interpret dreams), his steadfastness, self-control, temperance or chastity (σωφροσύνη, sōphrosynē), devotion, and endurance in times of affliction. They also mention Joseph’s advancement, i.e. his appointment as governor of Egypt, which they regard as a reward for his steadfast behavior in all circumstances. Finally, they praise Joseph as a fair and modest ruler who brought peace among all the inhabitants of Egypt. Again and again, Joseph is introduced as a shining example of virtue to be emulated by all (see, e.g., Sir 49:15; Wis 10:13–14; 1 Macc 2:53; 4 Macc 2:3; ALD 13:6; Jub. 34:10–19, chs. 39–40, and 42.1–46:8; and see also LAB 8:9–10, and Joseph and Aseneth, esp. chs. 1–21). For the compiler of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs Joseph represents the ideal of moral behavior. He included two older Jewish stories about Joseph, one describing his confrontation with the Egyptian woman (see T. Jos. 3:1–9:5) and the other his vicissitudes before he was bought by Potiphar (see T. Jos. 11:2–16:6); both refer to Joseph’s temperance or chastity (σωφροσύνη, sōphrosynē) and his endurance in times of distress. In Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities, Joseph is characterized yet again as a person of superior qualities and virtues. Josephus mentions, among other things, Joseph’s temperance (σωφροσύνη, sōphrosynē), his endurance (ὑπομονή, hypomonē), and his kindness toward all human beings (φιλανθρωπία, philanthrōpia). In the eyes of the author, Joseph answered the description of a Greco-Roman hero and fulfilled the Hellenistic ideal of the philosopher-king (see Ant. 2.9–200).

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Joseph’s (successful) political career is particularly accentuated by the Hellenistic Jews living in the Egyptian diaspora. Belonging to a social and religious minority, they felt a need to defend their laws and customs, and they claimed many important achievements in the past for their illustrious forefathers. Jewish authors like Artapanus, Demetrius (the Chronographer), and Philo the Epic Poet present Joseph as a successful administrator who created prosperity in Egypt and as a great statesman who was loved by all the inhabitants of the country. Philo of Alexandria, however, presents an ambiguous portrait of Joseph. In his allegorical commentaries on the story of Joseph in Genesis, he describes the statesman as a person who, like Joseph, lives in a world of passions, engages in hypocrisy and sophistry, and is prone to the misuse of his power (see, e.g., Ios. 28–36, 58–79, 125–56; Somn. 1.77–78, 219–25; 2.1–154; Det. 5–28; Leg. 3.236–42). In contrast, on a literal level, in his De Iosepho, Philo praises Joseph as a model statesman, God-fearing, full of temperance (σωφροσύνη, sōphrosynē), possessing self-control and wisdom (σοφία, sophia), and displaying goodness to all human beings (φιλανθρωπία, philanthrōpia); this profile is wholly in agreement with the general picture of Joseph in Second Temple Judaism.

Bibliography H. W. Hollander, Joseph as an Ethical Model in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, SVTP 6 (Leiden: Brill, 1981). H. W. Hollander, “The Portrayal of Joseph in Hellenistic Jewish and Early Christian Literature,” Biblical Figures Outside the Bible (1998), 237–63. M. Niehoff, The Figure of Joseph in Post-biblical Jewish Literature, AGJU 16 (Leiden: Brill, 1992). HARM W. HOLLANDER

Related entries: Allegory; Ethics; Faith and Faithfulness; Genesis, Book of; God-Fearers; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of.

Josephus Josephus (37–ca. 100 ce) is arguably the most influential ancient historian whose works have survived to the present time. His 30 extant volumes have been avidly read from their time of composition until today, mostly as context for the origins of Christianity but increasingly also for Jewish and classical history. Of the many ways of approaching Josephus—studying his writings, using them for historical inquiries, charting the history of reception—this article limits itself to an account of his life. Josephus refers to himself only as Joseph (Gk. Ἰώσηπος, Iōsēpos), a name he shares with the biblical patriarch and others. Indeed, his literary persona depends on his identity as a Judean nobleman, expert in Jerusalem’s life, law, and customs (e.g. J.W. 1.1–18; Ant. 1.1–13; 20.262– 265; Life 1–6). Nevertheless, his incidental remark that the emperor Vespasian had granted him Roman citizenship (Life 423) means that he must also have had a three-part citizen name. The expectation that this name would have been Titus Flavius Josephus is partly confirmed by later writers who call him Flavius Josephus (Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 1.21.147.2; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 1.5.3). Josephus was more self-referential than most ancient historians, and this habit leaves modern historians with valuable biographical anchors (Mason 2016). He was born in 37 or early 38 ce (Life 5; Ant. 20.267). After an education and early life among Jerusalem’s elite (Life 6–12), 398

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which must have included Greek learning alongside Hebrew (e.g. Bilde 1988: 21, 62; Rajak 2002: 46–64), in 63/64 he undertook a diplomatic journey to Rome to seek the release of some priests held by Nero (Life 13–16). Not long after his successful return, in late 66 he found himself on a very different mission: to Galilee. His account of the First Jewish War presents this as a military command (J.W. 2.562–576), his task being to prepare an army and town defenses ahead of Rome’s expected retaliation for the recent massacres of auxiliary and then legionary forces in the Jerusalem area. The Life explains (28–30), rather differently, that a Jerusalem elite worried about armed groups dispatched him as part of a three-man priestly team, to gather intelligence about self-arming in Galilee and disarm whomever they could, while they waited to see what Rome would do. Whatever Josephus’ tasks in Galilee were, both works, The Life and Jewish War, divide his time there into two phases. The Life is mainly devoted to the first phase, when his struggle was with local adversaries: Justus and Jesus of Tiberias, John from Gischala, and the main cities Tiberias and Sepphoris. Their motives are as obscure as Josephus’ mission, and scholarly speculations abound (Mason 2016). The second phase began with the arrival of Vespasian’s main force at nearby Ptolemais (March or April 67). Josephus fled to the safety of Tiberias, which was not on Vespasian’s original itinerary because it belonged to King Agrippa II, but within a few weeks he had moved back to Iotapata (mod. Yodfat; see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]) in Lower Galilee, where archaeology confirms that a Roman siege occurred (J.W. 3.132–142; Weiss 2016). By about July 1, when Roman soldiers overran the site, Josephus surrendered to Vespasian and allegedly avoided execution or rendition to Nero by uttering a prediction that Vespasian and Titus would soon rule (J.W. 3.350–408). Vespasian, seeing that Galilee’s other towns had pre-emptively welcomed him, considered his main task before retaking Jerusalem to be accomplished. Aside from the siege of Gamla (in Agrippa’s territory), the next three years brought little fighting. Josephus later recalls that he provided intelligence and translation services, but remained in constant danger from Roman soldiers (Ag. Ap. 1.48–49). Those services apparently continued after Vespasian released Josephus, after the eastern armies acclaimed him emperor (July 1, 69). Vespasian then found value in the resourceful captive’s prediction of a rise to imperial power, supposedly based on occult Judean wisdom—that sort of thing was “big” in Rome at the time. Through the coming siege and fall of Jerusalem, Josephus remained alongside Titus, and in the spring of 71 sailed with him to Rome (Den Hollander 2014: 68–199). Josephus apparently lived the balance of his life (from age 34 or so) in the imperial capital. He was never free of animosity from some compatriots, again for unclear reasons (J.W. 7.447–450; Life 428–429). There he wrote his Jewish War in seven volumes, largely completing it by the time of Vespasian’s death in June 79 (Life 361; Ag. Ap. 1.50), and the 20-volume Jewish Antiquities, finished in 93/94 during the reign of Domitian (Ant. 20.267), perhaps with the one-volume The Life accompanying it. Josephus must have lived until near 100 ce or later, because he still had to write the two-volume essay misleadingly called Against Apion. Nothing is known about the circumstances of his death. Historians today do not spend time morally evaluating ancient figures, but Josephus’ name has long carried the stigma of moral wretchedness (Mason 2003). Scholars often say that he went over to the Romans at Iotapata, that he cravenly served the destroyers of his land and shamelessly reaped the rewards, and that his Jewish War amounts to Flavian propaganda. Research on his 399

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writings has overturned many supposed foundations for this verdict. From the perspective of this article on the events of his life, three other considerations are germane. First, every other figure known from the First Jewish War fled before Rome’s legions to Jerusalem’s thick walls. Josephus is the only one who gave up safety to join an imperilled town—even if his aim was only to help them reach terms, after which he tried to leave (J.W. 3.193–202). Second, even the supposed heroes of Jerusalem eventually surrendered to the Romans, and their surrender is not equated with switching sides. Finally, Josephus was not conspicuously rewarded by the Flavians, beyond their granting him survival and maintenance. At any rate, no one today regrets that this relentless advocate for his people survived to write his priceless 30 volumes.

Bibliography P. Bilde, Flavius Josephus between Jerusalem and Rome: His Life, His Works and Their Importance (Sheffield: JSOT, 1988). W. Den Hollander, Josephus, the Emperors, and the City of Rome: From Hostage to Historian (Leiden: Brill, 2014). S. Mason, “Josephus’s Autobiography (Life of Josephus),” in Companion to Josephus (2016), 59–74. T. Rajak, Josephus: The Historian and His Society, 2nd ed. (London: Duckworth, 2002). Z. Weiss, “Josephus and the Archaeology of Galilee,” Companion to Josephus (2016), 161–98. STEVE MASON

Related entries: Historiography; Josephus, Writings of; Jotapata (Yodefat); Justus of Tiberius; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals.

Joshua (Jeshua) the High Priest Joshua (‫יהושׁוﬠ‬, yĕhôšūaʿ, meaning “Yahweh saves”) son of Jehozadak is the leading priestly figure of the early Second Temple period; he appears in four Hebrew Bible books and in Ben Sira. From a prominent priestly family, he is among the people returning from Babylonian exile (Ezra 2:2 // Neh 7:7). In Ezra and Nehemiah, which use a shortened form of his name (Jeshua), he is second only to Zerubbabel (the governor, so Hag 1:1, 14; 2:2, 21) in the returnee lists. Once relocated in Jerusalem, he is instrumental in initiating and overseeing the Temple restoration (Ezra 3:2, 8–9; 4:3; 5:2; see VanderKam 2004: 18–42). He is first to be called high priest (‫הכהן הגדול‬, hakkōhēn hagādôl, literally “great priest”), which becomes a common designation, along with the Aramaic equivalent kāhnāʾ rabbāʾ (‫ )כהנא רבא‬in rabbinic literature (e.g. San 110a). Josephus does not mention Joshua by name; he refers to Zerubbabel “and the high priest” (Ant. 11.5). Preexilic texts use other terms (e.g. ‫כהן הראשׁ‬, kōhēn hārōʾš, “chief priest,” 2 Kgs 25:18; or simply ‫הכהן‬, hakkōhēn, “the priest,” 2 Kgs 11:9), and neither Aaron nor his successors are called high priest in the Pentateuch, although the term appears descriptively rather than as a title in several places. The emergence of this title for Joshua is likely related to increased ecclesiastical authority in the postexilic period, which lacks a Davidic monarch. As head priest, Joshua apparently shares leadership with Zerubbabel. Two Zechariah passages allude to Joshua’s prominence. In the Temple vision (ch. 3) angels replace Joshua’s impure garb with priestly robes and headpiece, signifying divine approval of his office. In the enigmatic and perhaps future-oriented crown oracle (6:9–15), Zechariah is instructed to make a crown for Joshua, who will be enthroned and rule harmoniously with a royal messianic figure 400

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(the “Branch”); they are co-sovereigns of a political-religious diarchy. Joshua’s elevated status also appears in Sirach 49:12, where he is one of only three heroes of the postexilic period.

Bibliography C. L. Meyers and E. M. Meyers, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8, AB 25B (New York: Doubleday, 1987). CAROL L. MEYERS

Related Book of.

entries:

Ezra, Book of; Messiah; Messianism; Nehemiah, Book of; Priesthood; Zechariah,

Jotapata (Yodefat) The site of ancient Yodefat (Khibret Shifat) is located almost in the center of Lower Galilee, about 8 km north of Sepphoris (Zippori), on a small isolated hill surrounded by deep wadis (see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]). The town is first mentioned by Josephus, who fortified it along with 18 other settlements (J.W. 3.158–181, 213–221, 324–339). Yodefat became the headquarters for western Galilee during the First Revolt (66–73/74 ce) and the seat of government from which Josephus managed affairs in Galilee. The first battle of the revolt occurred here, when a 47-day siege by the vast Roman army destroyed the city and its inhabitants fled. Here also is where Josephus writes that he gave himself up to the Romans (Life 1.412; J.W. 3.383–392; cf. Tessel 2011) (Figure 4.63). Excavations from 1992 to 2000 by the Israel Antiquities Authority and the University of Rochester revealed much of the site’s history (Aviam 2015). The first village, which was not Jewish, was built on the top of the hill during the 3rd century bce and destroyed by fire. A new

Figure 4.63  Reconstruction of ancient Yodefat.

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Jotapata (Yodefat)

settlement was erected and surrounded by a wall, which dates from the 1st century bce. The town developed from the summit to the eastern and southern slopes during the 1st century ce. The discovery of two miqvaʾot, typical stone vessels, more than thousand Hasmonean coins, and the absence of pig bones all identify the site as a Jewish settlement at this time. Archaeologists discovered private houses in four different neighborhoods; these houses grant historians a glimpse into the daily life of Galilean Jews during the 1st century ce. The presence of seeds, charcoaled fruits, and an oil press are all indicative of an agriculturally based economy. Excavations have also revealed evidence for the massive production of wool materials. Surprisingly, a mansion was discovered in which the walls and floor of one room were covered with colorful frescoes. This “second Pompeian style” adornment is similar to what is found in the Herodian palaces and the rich mansions of Jerusalem. This discovery shows that the rural settlements in Galilee were inhabited not only by poor farmers (“peasants”) but also by a mixed population of differing socioeconomic backgrounds. The site also provides indications of the lengthy Roman assault on the city in the First Revolt reported by Josephus (esp. J.W. 3.141–288; Aviam 2005). Excavations have uncovered clear evidence of the fortification, siege, massacre, and abandonment of the town. The wall was built with a haste consistent with the pressures of Roman assault. The prior (Hasmonean) wall to the north was rebuilt and fortified. Elsewhere the wall was erected on soil with almost no foundations, as well as superimposing private dwellings. In one instance the wall was built over a pottery kiln that produced jars similar to those found in the abandoned and destroyed houses elsewhere in the town. This find shows that the wall was present before the war and the building of the town’s protection during it (Adan-Bayewitz and Aviam 1997). Remains of the assault ramp built by the Roman army, described by Josephus (J.W. 3.161– 164), were discovered on the northern slope. A few arrowheads were also discovered, and ballista stones and catapult arrowheads were found throughout the town. Many human bones were discovered on the floors of houses as well as in every excavated cistern; among them, there are no skeletons in laid-out form, but rather heaps of gathered bones. In light of Josephus’ description of the heavy casualties among the Roman troops, in which Vespasian himself was wounded (J.W. 3.236), it seems likely that the Romans did not allow for the burial of corpses as punishment to the Jews. It was only a year or two after the siege that Jews returned to Jotapata, gathered bones from the destroyed houses, and buried them in the abandoned cisterns in accordance with an important Jewish religious law (cf. m. Sanh. 6:6; m. Moʾed Qaṭ. 1:5).

Bibliography D. Adan-Bayewitz and M. Aviam, “Iotapata, Josephus, and the Siege of 67: Preliminary Report on the 1992–1994 Seasons,” JRA 10 (1997): 131–65. M. Aviam, ed., “The Archaeology of the Battle at Yodefat,” in Jews Pagans and Christians in the Galilee (Rochester, University of Rochester Press, 2005), 110–22. J. Tessel, “Josephus at Jotapata: Why Josephus Wrote What He Wrote,” in Flavius Josephus. Interpretation and History, ed. J. Pastor, P. Stern, and M. Mor (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 217–26. MORDECHAI AVIAM

Related entries: Agriculture; Josephus, Writings of; Military, Jews in the; Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Generals; Wealth and Poverty.

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Judah Judah (‫יהודה‬, yhûdh, “thanks”; Gen 29:35) was the fourth son of Jacob through Leah after Reuben, Simeon, and Levi (Gen 29:31–35; 35:23). He was the ancestor of the tribe of Judah, whose territory was known as Judah (in the Second Temple period a small temple state) and later Judea. From his descendants the Davidic dynasty arose, and later interpreters projected various characteristics of the kingly line back onto Judah’s story. In the Joseph saga Judah spares Joseph’s life by initiating his sale to the Ishmaelites (37:25), persuades Jacob to allow him to return with Benjamin to Egypt (43:1–10), negotiates with Joseph as spokesperson for his brothers (44:14–21), and leads the way for Jacob to meet Joseph (46:28). Jacob’s blessing of Judah reflects this prominence, promising victorious rule to his offspring (49:8–12; cf. also Deut 33:7). Thus 1 Chronicles lists his tribe first (1 Chr 2:3–4:23), Reuben having forfeited superior status because of his sin with Bilhah (5:1–2; Gen 35:22); the account also portrays Judah as a king (28:4; similarly, T. Jud. 1:6; Menn 1997: 82–86). Genesis 38 narrates his marriage to a Canaanite, the failure of his two sons to consummate their marriages to Tamar, and his intercourse with Tamar, who had presented herself as a prostitute (cf. also 4Q364 9a-b), foreshadowing the fallibilities of the royal dynasty. The Book of Jubilees (mid-2nd cent. bce) recounts this story not within but after the Joseph saga (where Judah’s rescue of Joseph is omitted, but not his advocacy, in Jub. 41:1– 28), highlighting the contrast between the latter’s utopian rule (40:9, cf. also 23:28–29; 50:5) and Judah’s weakness (Loader 2007: 176–86). It blames Judah’s Canaanite wife for his sons’ failures with Tamar, an acceptable Aramean (41:1) who remained a virgin (41:27); for keeping the third son from her (41:2–3; cf. already 34:20; Mal 3:11); and for the tragedy of his incest, finally rehabilitating him (and his line; 41:27) because of his remorse (41:23–25). Rebecca (31:7), then Isaac (31:11–20), single out Levi and Judah for blessing, the latter inferior to the former, whose offspring will be the true leaders (31:15), reflecting realities of the Second Temple period (similarly 1QSa ii 11–15; T. Gad 8:1; T Jos. 19:6). Aramaic Levi Document goes further, transferring Genesis 49:10 to Levi’s son, Kohath (11:6). First Maccabees uses the lion imagery of Genesis 49:9 with respect to Judas Maccabeus, who was of a priestly line (3:4). Jubilees bypasses Jacob’s blessing (cf. 45:14), but highlights Judah’s military prowess against the Amorites (34:1–9) and Esau’s sons (38:1–14), Idumaeans of the author’s time. In contrast, 4QCommGen A (4Q252) v 1–7 links Genesis 49:10 with the Davidic promise in Jeremiah 33:17. Like Josephus, Pseudo-Philo’s history omits Judah and Tamar’s story (as embarrassing?), but idealizes Tamar for preferring incest to intermarriage with foreigners (LAB 9:5–6; Loader 2011a: 264–69). Philo employs Tamar as an image of virtue and Judah’s intercourse with her as a symbol of the wise seeking virtue (Congr. 124–126; Fug. 149–156; Mut. 134–136). Josephus embellishes Judah’s piety (Ant. 1.304; 2.116–17), depicting him as willing to die in Benjamin’s stead (Ant. 2.139–59). The Testament of Judah hails his might before attributing his disastrous marriage and incest to wine and seduction, drawing on Cynic and Stoic reflections on kingship (Loader 2011b: 170–79, 297). The royal Davidic lineage inspired hope (Num 24:17; Mic 5:2; 4QapocrJoshc? [4Q522] 9 ii 3–9), including messianic hope from the tribe of Judah (1 Chr 5:2; 4QCommGen A [4Q252] v 5; 4QDibHama [4Q504] 1–2R iv 5–10), reflected in Matthew’s

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genealogy (Matt 1:2–3), Hebrews 7:14, and Revelation 5:5 (“the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David”).

Bibliography W. Loader, Enoch, Levi, and Jubilees on Sexuality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007). W. Loader, The Pseudepigrapha on Sexuality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011a). W. Loader, Philo, Josephus, and the Testaments on Sexuality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011b). E. M. Menn, Judah and Tamar (Genesis 38) in Ancient Jewish Exegesis, JSJSup 51 (Leiden: Brill, 1997). WILLIAM LOADER

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Marriage and Divorce; Patriarchs, Testaments of the Twelve; Priesthood.

Judaizing The old debate about whether ancient Judaism “was a missionary religion” ran aground on the problem of criteria (Goodman 1994). Since none of the key terms corresponds unambiguously to ancient counterparts, the question could seem anachronistic (Mason 2007). The verb “Judaize,” by contrast, possesses ancient roots in the word Ἰουδαΐζω (Ioudaizō). Moreover, -ιζω verbs take a cognate noun in –ismos for the action involved: σεισμός (seismos, “shaking”), ὁπλισμός (hoplismos, “arming”), γαληνισμός (galēnismos, “calming”), βαπτισμός (baptismos, “dunking”). If Ἰουδαϊσμός (Ioudaismos) is understood to mean Judaizing, it matches classical counterparts Μηδισμός (Mēdismos), Άθηνισμός (Athēnismos), and Λακωνισμός (Lakōnismos), i.e., “Medizing,” “Athenizing,” and “Spartanizing,” respectively. That might in turn explain why verb and noun alike found little use in non-Christian literature. These terms, and even more the low-brow “Cilicizing,” “Egyptizing,” and “Cretizing,” had unsavory connotations (Mason 2007: 462–63). They suggested the compromising of one’s proper allegiances in favor of foreign loyalties or manners. Judaizing added to the perception of compromise the assumption of circumcision for males, which seemed to Greeks and Romans a form of bodily mutilation. The link was familiar enough that Plutarch could mention a certain Caecilius, “who was under suspicion of Judaizing” (ἔνοχος τῷ ἰουδαΐζειν, enochos tō ioudaizein), to set up a crass joke from Cicero about castration (Plutarch, Cic. 7.6). Alexander Polyhistor made the same assumption (in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.22.5). Nearly all surviving occurrences of Ἰουδαΐζω (Ioudaizō) (259 of 265) and Ἰουδαϊσμός (Ioudaismos) (362 of 367) into the Middle Ages appear in Christian texts (cf. the statistics in www.tlg.uci.edu), which complain that gentile Christians are Judaizing. From about 200 ce, however, Christian authors remove the verbal sense of Ἰουδαϊσμός (Ioudaismos). The exclusively Christian noun Iudaismus, first found in Tertullian, confirms the more static sense of a supposed Jewish belief system. The verb Ἰουδαΐζω (Ioudaizō) indicates degrees of movement toward that system. Rather than exploring that later Christian meaning, the rest of this article treats the few arguably ironic situations in which classical, Judean, and Christian authors found use for these words. The book of Esther tells of a plot to kill all the Judeans of the Persian Empire, which is rapidly undone after the execution of Haman the instigator (Esth 7:1–10). Remarkably, the king permits Judeans to “destroy, kill, and annihilate” many thousands of enemies (8:11–13). The Hebrew text coins a hithpael verb, found nowhere else. From dread of the Judeans, the author 404

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says, many in the land “became Jews” (NAS; ‫מתיהדים‬, mtyhdym). The Septuagint elaborates, “Many of the gentiles underwent circumcision and Judaized” (Esth 8:17; cf. McKnight 1991: 79–80; Cohen 1999: 122–23). The authors leave ambiguous whether this Judaizing from fear is desirable. The author of 2 Maccabees coins the nouns “Hellenizing” and “foreignizing” (Ἑλληνισμός, Hellēnismos; ἀλλοφυλισμός, allophulismos, 4:13) to describe the shameful cultural defection of Jerusalem’s priestly leadership. He calls the remedy, advanced by the Hasmonean brothers and their supporters, Judaizing (Ἰουδαϊσμός, Ioudaismos 2:21; 8:1; 14:38) of priesthood and city. Thus it is misleading to render the word as “Judaism” (Mason 2007). Second Maccabees, which was widely read, laid the ground for the later authors Paul and Ignatius of Antioch. The stimulus for Paul’s letter to the Galatians was that gentile converts there were embracing Judean law, with the males undergoing circumcision. The Jerusalem apostles appear to have supported this, for Paul accuses Peter/Cephas of “compelling the gentiles to Judaize” (Gal 2:14). Paul insists that he knows as much as anyone about devotion to the ancestral traditions, citing his former commitment to Judaizing (τὴν ἐμὴν ἀναστροφήν ποτε ἐν τῷ Ἰουδαϊσμῷ, tēn emēn anastrophēn pote en tō Ioudaismō), which he illustrates by his Hasmonean-like efforts to destroy the Christian threat (Gal 1:13–14)—before God told him differently. Two or more generations later, Ignatius confronts the same phenomenon in two letters (Magn. 8.1; 10.3; Phld. 6.1). The former (10.3) still links verb and noun: “It is bizarre to talk Jesus Christ and to Judaize (ἰουδαϊζειν, ioudaizein), for Christianizing did not put its trust in Judaizing” (ὁ γὰρ Χριστιανισμὸς οὐκ εἰς Ἰουδαϊσμὸν ἐπίστευσεν, ho gar Christianismos ouk eis Ioudaismon episteusen). Philo and Josephus, though they welcome attraction to Judean laws, are wary of such language. Only Josephus uses the verb in two unfortunate situations. First, when Jerusalem militants shamefully massacre the auxiliary garrison, they permit its prefect to survive when he desperately promises “to Judaize as far as circumcision” (J.W. 2.454)—shades of Esther. Shortly thereafter, when Syrians and Judeans are killing each other in each polis, he relates that the Syrians hold back from killing compatriots who are Judaizing but then fear their foreign loyalties (2.463). Notice the absence of specifically religious language. When Josephus elsewhere celebrates the adoption of Judean law by the Adiabenians (Ant. 20.17–96) or the Hasmoneans’ coercion of the neighboring peoples (Ant. 13.257–58), he does not call it Judaizing.

Bibliography See General Bibliography. STEVE MASON

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Covenantal Nomism; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; God-Fearers; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Ioudaios; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Pauline Letters.

Judas Maccabeus Judas, also called “Maccabeus,” was the leader of a resistance movement among the Jews against Seleucid rule in the sixties of the 2nd century bce. His surname “Maccabeus” (or “the Maccabean”; see, e.g., 1 Macc 2:4) is often interpreted as the “Hammerer.” According to 1 Maccabees, he took over leadership from Mattathias, his father, who started the revolt. The latter is said to be a priest 405

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of the Jojarib family (1 Macc 2:1), whereas, in a source of later date (Josephus, J.W. 1.36), he is presented as “son of Asamonaeus” (hence, the “Hasmoneans” as designation of the Maccabean rulers). The Maccabean uprising was first of all religious, aiming at the restoration of ancestral worship in the Temple of Jerusalem (see Map 6: Maccabean Revolt [167–160 bce]). Due to measures taken by Antiochus IV Epiphanes, which were agreed upon by the Hellenist party in Jerusalem, the regular offering in the Jerusalem Temple was abolished (Dan 11:31) and the city became “the abode of aliens” (1 Macc 1:38). The response to the religious crisis varied. Unlike the nonviolent stance (passive resistance) attested by Daniel (Dan 8:25; 10:21; 12:1; cf. 1 Macc 2:29–38), Judas and his followers pursued a violent course (1 Macc 2:39–48). In 1 and 2 Maccabees Judas appears as a “victorious commander of a powerful insurgency” (Dąbrowa 2010: 20). He undertook eight military confrontations with Seleucid forces, four before the purification and rededication of the Temple—the guerrilla battles against Apollonius and Seron, the campaign at Ammaus, and the battle against Lysias at Beth-Zur—and four after its rededication—the encounter with Lysias near Beth-Zacharia, the battles against Nicanor at Kafar-Salama and at Adasa (the latter resulting in the Day of Nicanor), and Judas’ final battle against Bakchides near Elasa where he lost his life. This picture is based on 1 Maccabees, which commonly is regarded as representing a more reliable source of information than the relevant stories offered by 2 Maccabees. It is to be noted, however, that in some cases the witness of 2 Maccabees is more accurate than that of 1 Maccabees (e.g. the death of Antiochus IV before the purification of the Jerusalem Temple), as well as provides textual evidence of great interest (e.g. the letters to be found in 2 Macc 11). Interestingly, one of these letters (2 Macc 11:27–33) contains an amnesty declared by Antiochus IV, in the first half of 164 bce, “for all those Judeans who would give up fighting” (Dąbrowa 2010: 21). According to 1 Maccabees, Judas’ defeat of Lysias’ army at Beth-Zur paved the way to the purification of the Temple (cf. 1 Macc 4:36), although in reality things might have been more nuanced (Bar-Kochva 1989: 279–81). In any case, the purification and rededication of the Temple in 164 bce was a major event (1 Macc 4:36–58; 2 Macc 10:1–18). Immediately thereafter, Judas and his followers aimed at consolidating and extending their power, which can be seen as the beginning of a struggle for freedom and the independence of the Jewish nation. The fact that Judas sent an embassy to Rome is telling in this regard (“to make a treaty of friendship and alliance, in order that the Romans might rid them of foreign oppression” [1 Macc 8:17–18]). Judas is presented in 1 and 2 Maccabees as a military leader, but according to Josephus he was also the first Hasmonean high priest (Ant. 12.414, 419, 434). This matter is disputed: some scholars accept Josephus’ testimony (Judas was a rival high priest to Alcimus) while others regard it improbable, especially since 1 and 2 Maccabees do not provide any evidence for the claim nor does the list of high priests in Jewish Antiquities 20.235–238 (Schürer 1973: 170). Alternatively, it has been suggested that Judas might have acted as deputy high priest under Alcimus (Babota 2014: 100).

Bibliography V. Babota, The Institution of the Hasmonean High Priesthood, JSJSup 165 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). ARIE VAN DER KOOIJ

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Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Daniel, Book of; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Resistance Movements; Revolt, Maccabean.

Judea Judea was an administrative and geographical unit in Western Palestine named after the territory of the “Tribe of Judah” (Josh 15:1–12) and followed the borders of the “Kingdom of Judah” from the First Temple period. The unit was composed of three geographical units arranged from west to east: Judean Foothills (Shephelah), Judean Mountains, and Judean Desert. This was the main Jewish territory around Jerusalem and its borders changed in correlation with the political power which the Jews gained throughout history (cf. Avi-Yonah 1974). In 587 bce the Neo-Babylonian Empire conquered the “Kingdom of Judah,” destroyed the Jerusalem Temple, and deported many from the higher class of Jewish society. They formed an administrative unit in Judea with a center at Mizpah. The biblical sources are not uniform in regard to the remains of Jewish settlements in Judea during the Babylonian period: a few sources testify that only the lower classes of Jewish society stayed in Judea (2 Kgs 25:12; Jer 52:4–31) while others note that all the Jews were deported from Judea (2 Kgs 25:21, 26). In any event, it is clear that Edomites settled in the southern parts of Judea during that period, forming an administrative unit called Idumea. In 539 bce Cyrus II permitted Jews to return to Judea and rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem. The Neo-Babylonian province structure was accepted by the Persian rule that moved the capital city to Jerusalem. The name of this province—“Yahud”—is known from the Book of Ezra (5:8) and was minted on silver coins (e.g. Magness 2012: 61). The territory of the province was limited at that period, bordering with the province of Shomron, Idumea, and Ashdod and extending from Mizpah in the north to Beit-Zur in the south, and from Keilah in the west to the Jordan River in the east (Neh 3:1–33). The territory of Judea did not change during the conquest of Alexander the Great (332 bce) and the rule of the Ptolemaic dynasty (301–200 bce). Following the Maccabean revolt and the power that the Hasmonean leaders concentrated, the Seleucid rulers transferred three or four toparchies from the province of Shomron to the territory of Judea during the leadership of Jonathan Apphus (1 Macc 10:30, 38; 11:28, 34, 57; Josephus, Ant. 13.127). During the rule of Simon Maccabeus Judea was recognized by Demetrius II as an independent territory (142 bce; 1 Macc 13:41–42), and its borders were widened to the Judean Costal Plane with an access to the Mediterranean Sea (Gezer, Jaffa; see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule [II] [103–63 bce]). John Hyrcanus annexed Idumea as well as parts of Transjordan (112 bce) and Samaria (108 bce) into his territory and converted the Edomites to Judaism (Josephus, J.W. 1.155–157; Ant. 13.254– 279). His son, Aristobulus I, conquered the Galilee and connected it to Judea (Ant. 13.318–319). During the rule of Alexander Jannaeus the Hasmonean kingdom reached its peak and its borders included Judea, Idumea, Galilee, Samaria, Costal Plane, and Transjordan. Jannaeus’ aspiration was to unify and judaize most of the population of his kingdom (Ant. 13.395–397). In 63 bce the Romans, headed by Pompey the Great, gained control over Judea. Pompey and Gabinius transferred all the territories that had no Jewish majority from the Hasmonean Kingdom and resettled the poleis of those areas with gentile populations (Zissu 2001). They left Judea with

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areas that were mainly Jewish: Judea, Perea, Galilee, and Idumea (J.W. 1.155–157, 165–166; Ant. 14.74–76, 88). Herod the Great was appointed by the Roman administration as a client king of Judea (37–4 bce; Rocca 2008: 52–58). Herod supported both gentile and Jewish populations and the borders of his kingdom included areas in Transjordan, Galilee, Samaria, Judea, and the Costal Plane cities. After Herod’s death, the Romans divided the Kingdom into three parts between his sons. Herod Archelaus was appointed as the King of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea (4 bce–6 ce; Ant. 17.317–320; J.W. 2.93–97). In the year 6 ce the Roman procuratorial Province Judea was formed and the capital city changed from Jerusalem to Caesarea (J.W. 2.117). Josephus describes the borders of Judea and its administrative division during the end of the Second Temple period as composed of eleven toparchies: Jerusalem, Gophna, Aqraba, Timna, Lod, Emmaus, Pella (Beit Nattif), Idumea, ʿEin-Gedi, Herodion, and Jericho (J.W. 3.51–55). Pliny describes the same division with slightly fewer changes (Nat., 5, 14:70). Mention of this division and the borders of Judea during the Hasmonean and Herodian dynasties also appears in the rabbinic sources (cf. m. Ŝeb. 9:2; t. Ŝeb. 9:10; m. Maʿaś. Š. 5:2). In the New Testament the term Judea sometimes refers to the geographical unit or to the Roman administrative unit (e.g. Luke 2:4, 3:1; Acts 9:31, 11:1, 29). Due to the failure of the Jewish Revolt (66–73/74 ce) the Romans decided to put Judea under the administration of a praetorian governor and to permanently station the Tenth Legion in Jerusalem. Even though Jews were not permitted to live in Jerusalem, the same administrative division continued to exist during the time between the two Jewish Revolts (70–132 ce). Based on the distribution of archaeological remains testifying to the existence of Jewish population (ritual baths, Jewish coins, stone vessels, ossuaries, hiding and refuge caves), it is now clear that the main Jewish territory during the end of the Second Temple period and until the Bar Kokhba revolt sprawled between Shiloh Valley in the north to the Beersheba-Arad valleys in the south and between Judean foothills in the west and the Jordan River in the east. Most of the Jewish settlements in Judea were deserted as a result of the failure of the Bar Kokhba revolt (132–135 ce) and the Jewish residents were replaced by gentile inhabitants. The name of the province was changed from “Judea” to “Syria-Palaestina.”

Bibliography M. Avi-Yonah, Carta’s Atlas of the Period of the Second Temple, the Mishnah and the Talmud (Jerusalem: Carta, 1974). B. Zissu, “Rural Settlement in the Judean Hills and Foothills from Late Second Temple Period to the Bar Kokhba Revolt” (PhD diss.,The Hebrew University, 2001). EITAN KLEIN

Related entries: Coele-Syria; Cyrus the Great; Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Judaizing; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Generals; Roman Governors.

Judgment Judgment is a common theme in Second Temple Jewish literature. It denotes divine intervention in human affairs, either directly or through human agencies, either in historical time or at the end of time, to punish evil and either chastise or save the righteous. Belief in divine judgment was a recognition that human affairs had gone horribly wrong and that God was both able and willing to intervene to save his people and punish evildoers. In times 408

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of national crisis for Israel, internal or external, references to judgment became more common, pronounced, and forceful. The rise of apocalyptic literature reflects a concern with theodicy, and the genre deals extensively with judgment. In Second Temple Jewish literature, judgment in historical times takes place primarily through human agencies. The righteous can serve as an instrument of judgment on the wicked. Such is the case, e.g., of Levi slaying the Shechemites (T. Levi 5:3, contrast Gen 49:5–6), of Israel’s kings destroying idolatrous nations (Josephus, Ant. 6.141–151; 13.280–283), and, in a special way, of the Sons of Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls destroying the Sons of Darkness (1QM i 4, 15; ix 5, 7). In cases of flagrant violation of God’s laws, God sometimes bypasses human agents and intervenes directly. Judgment stories in the Hebrew Bible appear repeatedly and become embellished with details absent from and sometimes in tension with other biblical accounts. Examples include the flood, precipitated by human (1 En. 54:7–10; Apoc. Adam 3:3–8; 2 Bar. 56:1–16; 4 Ezra 3:8–11; Hel. Syn. Pr. 12:58; Jub. 5:19–6:3; LAE 49:1–3) and/or angelic sin (1 En. 10:6–11; 85:1–89:9; 2 Bar. 56:12); the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah (Sib. Or. 6–21; 4 Ezra 2:8–9; Gk. Apoc. Ezra 2:18–20; Apoc. Adam 5:10; T. Levi 14:6; T. Naph. 3:4; T. Ash. 7:1; Jub. 16:5–6; 20:5–6; Hel. Syn. Pr. 12:61); and the ten plagues (4 Ezra 15:11; Artap. 3.27:27–33). Such events become symbols of the final eschatological judgment (4 Ezra 2:8–9; Gk. Apoc. Ezra 7:12; Jub. 22:22; 36:10; 3 Macc 2:5; Apoc. Ab. 29:15; 30:2–8). Second Temple Jewish literature is most concerned with eschatological judgment, which appears in varied forms. Sometimes, judgment takes place at death and souls are pictured as taken either to heaven (4 Macc 18:23; Hel. Syn. Pr. 12:37; 16:1–6; Gk. Apoc. Ezra 6:3–7:4) or to hell (3 En. 44:3–6). An intermediate place appears in 3 Enoch 44:3, but the motif is rare. Most commonly judgment takes place not at death but at the end of the age on the “day of the Lord,” “day of judgment,” or the “day of ” followed by different appellatives (1 En. 99:4, 6, 9; 100:4, 7; 2 En. 18:6; Apoc. Dan. 14:13; Pss. Sol. 15:12; 4 Ezra 7:39–42). It is preceded by bodily resurrection (2 Macc 7:14; 12:43; 1 En 51:1–3; Sib. Or. 1.378; 2.221–26; 4.179–82; 4 Ezra 2:23; 2 Bar. 49:1–50:4; T. Job 4:9; Bauckham 2008: 251). God is the judge. The messiah, or a messianic figure, also appears as judge, especially, but not only, in works composed or edited by Christians (Sib. Or. 2.45–55, 241–44; 8.218–19; Mart. Isa. 4:18; Apoc. Dan. 14:14–16; Ques. Ezra B:14; cf. 2 Bar. 29:1–30:5; 1 En 51:1–5; 63:11; 90:20–27) as well as in the Dead Sea Scrolls (1QSb v 21, 25, 28; 4Q161 iii 11, 22–23; Rowland 1982: 165–66). Angels play an active role as well (1 En. 54:6; 56:1; 91:15). Judgment is determined on the basis of what is recorded in the Book of Life (Jub. 30:20–22; 36:10; 1 En 108:3; T. Jac. 7:27), or other named or unnamed heavenly books (1 En. 81:1–2; 90:20; T. Ab. 12:12), kept by recording angels (T. Ab. 12:12). Judgment takes place on earth or in a subterranean region. Gehenna is mentioned, mostly in later writings, and more often in texts that evidence Christian influence (Papaioannou 2013: 3–26). Views on the end result of the final judgment vary. The idea that wicked humans and fallen angels will be tormented forever without respite is not uncommon (1 En 21:7–10; 2 En. 10:1–5; 2 En. 40:13J; Sib. Or. 2.283–312). More commonly, the final judgment results in the destruction of the wicked (1 En. 91:9, 14; 99:4, 9, 11–14; Sib. Or. 2.254; 4.173–78, 183–86; Gk. Apoc. Ezra 3:5–6; Sib. Or. 3.84–93; Apoc. El. 1:4; 5:22–24, 33–35; 1QS iv 12–14; 1QSb v 21, 25, 28; 1QM; 4Q161 ii 7–11, 22–25; 409

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4Q162 2.1; 1QM xviii 1–2; xix 2–8; cf. Rowland 1982: 164). The destruction may come swiftly or after a shorter or longer period of punishment. Fire is nearly always involved. Sometime the concepts of prolonged torment and total destruction appear side by side in uneasy coexistence (e.g. Sib. Or. 2.254/2.283–312). In Sibylline Oracles 7.119–121/127–28, the wicked eventually perish, but their torment is long enough to appear to last forever. 1QS iv 12–14 speaks not only of “eternal damnation” and “shame without end” but also of “destruction by the fire” that will leave the wicked without “a remnant or a survivor” (Collins 2016: 118). Judgment is not only for the wicked but also for God’s people. In historical time divine judgment may serve to chastise (Nickelsburg 2005: 60–61). The Babylonian captivity figures prominently in this connection and was utilized as an example to encourage Jews to faithfulness and warn of the consequences of sin (2 Bar. 6:1–10:19; 4 Bar. 1:1–7:37; 1 En. 89:68–72; Sib. Or. 3.265–294; T. Jud. 23:1–5; T. Zeb. 9:5–7; LAE 29:7; Pss. Sol. 9:1–11). By contrast, the final judgment will signal the final and ultimate liberation of the people of God from the oppression of sinners as well as sin and all its consequences. It will result in happiness, peace, prosperity, unhindered worship, holiness, and longevity for the people of God. While this longevity is presented as lasting forever (1 En. 103:1–4; 1QS iv 7–8; 4Q181 2.4–6; CD A iii 20), it can also rarely mean prolonged life that does eventually end.

Bibliography R. Bauckham, The Jewish World Around the New Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). K. Papaioannou, The Geography of Hell in the Teaching of Jesus (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2013). KIM PAPAIOANNOU

Related entries: Death and Afterlife; Eschatology; Faith and Faithfulness; Fallen Angels; Idols and Images; Righteousness and Justice.

Julius Caesar, Caius Caius Julius Caesar was born in the Roman month Quintilis in the year 100 bce. Shortly before his death in 44 bce, the name of that month was changed to Julius (July) in his honor, indicating the enormous and lasting impact he had on the Roman world. His clan, the Julii, belonged to the patriciate, Rome’s oldest aristocracy. Moreover, his immediate family were among the most important political leaders of Rome: his father held Rome’s second-ranking magistracy, the praetorship; his uncle Sextus Caesar and cousin Lucius Caesar both held Rome’s highest magistracy, the consulship, in 91 and 90 respectively, and Lucius Caesar then held the even more prestigious censorship in 89; and his uncle by marriage, Caius Marius, held six consulships in an eight-year span (107–100) and was Rome’s greatest general (see Broughton 1952). With that background, a successful political career was almost guaranteed for Caesar himself. The key sources for Caesar’s life and career, besides Caesar’s own writings and those of his contemporaries Cicero and Sallust, are the biographies written by Plutarch (“Caesar”) and Suetonius (“Divus Julius”), and Appian’s history of the Roman Civil War. Caesar started his political career at the traditional age of 30 in 69 bce, and over the next ten years moved progressively through the magistracies of the Roman governing system to the consulship in the year 59. During those ten years, Caesar established himself as the leader of one of the main political factions in Rome, the so-called “popular” faction that sought progressive 410

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reform of the governing system and expansion of Roman citizenship to suitably Romanized allied and subject peoples, as opposed to the more traditionalist and conservative “optimate” faction led by Cato. During his consulship Caesar enacted very controversial reforms, which garnered him bitter hostility from the optimates. He realized that for his safety and the success of his faction he would need an army and a great military command: he managed to have himself appointed governor of north Italy and Provence (southern Gaul or France) for a five-year period (renewed for a further five years in 55 bce). During his ten-year governorship he extended Roman power over all of modern day France plus Belgium, the southern Netherlands, and part of western Germany. One of the greatest acts of conquest in Roman history, this made Caesar one of the two most powerful leaders in the Roman world (Billows 2009; Goldsworthy 2006). In addition, Caesar’s firsthand account of this war (his Bellum Gallicum), along with his account of the opening phase of the civil war that followed (Bellum civile), made Caesar one of the greatest and most widely admired of Roman historians (Riggsby 2006). His rival Cnaeus Pompeius (aka Pompey the Great), allied to the optimate faction of Cato and his associates, declared war on Caesar at the beginning of 49, starting a civil war that ended with Caesar in sole control of the Roman Empire, as Dictator for life, in the year 45. During this civil war Caesar, in 48 bce, entered Egypt in pursuit of his rival Pompeius. There he became embroiled, with inadequate forces, in an Egyptian civil war, which led to Caesar being besieged in the royal palace quarter of Alexandria by hostile Egyptian forces. Messages were sent out summoning aid to Caesar from nearby provinces, including Syria and Palestine. An ally of Caesar named Mithridates of Pergamon organized a relieving army, greatly helped in this by the Judean ruler Hyrcanus II and his Idumean general Antipater. Antipater led a force of 3,000 Jewish soldiers to aid in Mithridates’ expedition to Egypt and proved a very capable assistant in enabling Mithridates to win through and link up with Caesar in Egypt, and in bringing over the Jewish community in Egypt to side with Caesar (Josephus, J.W. 1.187–192). In thanks for this aid, Caesar, in his settlement of the east in early 47, gave great favor to Antipater and his sons. His younger son Herod was made governor of Galilee at this time (aged about 28) and developed contacts in Caesar’s circle, especially with Caesar’s cousin Sextus Julius Caesar. Hyrcanus was confirmed as high priest, with Antipater effectively ruling Judea under him; and Antipater was granted permission to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. Sextus Caesar, as governor of Syria, protected Antipater and Herod and advanced their status as friends of Rome (Josephus, J.W. 1.192–216). In addition, Caesar enacted protections for the Jewish people, guaranteeing the Jews’ right to practice their religion and exempting them from participation in the Roman state cults, as well as confirming the privileges of the great Jewish community in Alexandria (Josephus, J.W. 2.487–490). In 44 bce Caesar was assassinated by a conspiracy of rival Roman leaders (Parenti 2003), but his successors Marcus Antonius and Augustus continued Caesar’s policies of protecting the Jews and their religion and favoring the dynasty of Antipater and Herod.

Bibliography R. A. Billows, Julius Caesar: The Colossus of Rome (London: Routledge, 2009). T. R. S. Broughton, Magistrates of the Roman Republic, 2 vols. (New York: American Philological Association, 1951–1952). A. Goldsworthy, Caesar, Life of a Colossus (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006). M. Parenti, The Assassination of Julius Caesar (New York: The New Press, 2003). 411

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A. M. Riggsby, Caesar in Gaul and Rome: War in Words (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2006). RICHARD A. BILLOWS

Related entries: Herod the Great; Hyrcanus II, John; Idumea; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Roman Governors; Romanization.

Justin Martyr Justin was born and raised in Flavia Neapolis (present Nablus) in Samaria in Palestine ca. 100 ce. His family was Roman. He received a good Platonic education and was also acquainted with Samaritans and Jews due to his upbringing in Neapolis. As a young man he converted to Christianity. He lived his last years in Rome, where he also composed his numerous books. Only two of them are preserved whole: his First Apology written in the early 150s (Minns and Parvis 2009) and his Dialogue with Trypho written in the early 160s (Marcovich 1997). He was martyred for his Christian faith ca. 165 and was hence called Justin Martyr. Justin’s knowledge of contemporary Jews and their religion was exceptional for a non-Jewish nd 2 -century Christian (Goldfahn 1873). Living the first part of his life in Neapolis, not far from Jerusalem, Justin could observe at close range the Jewish and Samaritan ways of life and their religious customs. For example, the rites of Passover were still practiced by the Samaritans according to the old practices, even after the cessation of these rites in Jerusalem (Dial. 40.3). His nearness to living Judaism also made him very concerned with defending and explaining his Christian belief, especially for a Jewish audience. Much of the Jewish learning displayed in his Dialogue probably came from previous encounters between Justin and Jewish sages. Justin also had early Christian writings as sources for his Jewish knowledge: the four New Testament Gospels, Romans, Galatians, and at least two other early Christian sources that can be reconstructed from his Apology and the Dialogue (Skarsaune 1987; cf. Stanton 2013: 363–376). Closer analysis tends to show that these sources in part derived from Jewish believers in Jesus who engaged in intense controversy with their compatriots during and immediately after the Bar Kokhba war (132–135 ce). Through this window one can observe how Jewish believers in Jesus coped theologically with the challenge that the messianic pretender Bar Kokhba presented to believers in Messiah Jesus. In transmitting much material from these sources, Justin incorporated in his own writings much Christian bible interpretation that was very Jewish in method and in idea. Justin is thus seen to be an important early Christian source for the last period of Second Temple Judaism (Horner 2001). One should note, however, that according to scholars like Peter Schäfer, Israel Yuval, and others, some of the rabbinic material that has previously been adduced as “background” for Christian writers (like Justin) could rather be seen as responses to these writers (Schäfer 2012).

Bibliography A. H. Goldfahn, “Justinus Martyr und die Agada,” MGWJ 22 (1873): 49–60; 104–15; 145–53; 193–202; 257–69. T. J. Horner, Listening to Trypho: Justin Martyr’s Dialogue Reconsidered, CBET 28 (Leuven: Peeters, 2001). M. Marcovich, Iustini Martyris Dialogus cum Tryphone, PTS 47 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1997). D. Minns and P. Parvis, Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies, OECT (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). 412

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P. Schäfer, The Jewish Jesus: How Judaism and Christianity Shaped Each Other (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012). O. Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition, NovTSup 56 (Leiden: Brill, 1987). G. Stanton, Studies on Matthew and Early Christianity, eds. M. Bockmuehl and D. Linicum, WUNT 309 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). OSKAR SKARSAUNE

Related entries: Apologetic Literature; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Jesus Movement; Jewish-Christianity; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Martyrdom; Messianism; Revolt, Second Jewish; Tertullian.

Juvenal Juvenal (Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis; flor. ca. 110–130 ce) was author of 16 Latin verse satires. He is famous for his vicious and sardonic manner; his attacks ranged across many aspects of Roman society and classes of people, although he self-consciously avoided attacking living individuals by name. Juvenal’s interest to the historian of Judaism arises because of his occasional polemics against Jews; he thus provides an insight into how the contemporary diaspora community appeared to a hostile outsider. He is especially concerned with and critical of Romans who took on Jewish religious customs, thus abandoning Roman rites and the Roman community (14.96–106). Other visible aspects of Judaism to which he refers are synagogues (3.296), circumcision as the last stage of conversion (14.99, 14.104), the taboo on pork (6.160, 14.98–9), and the Sabbath (6.159, 14.96). With regard to the last, he mentions a haybox as a typical Jewish possession (3.14, 6.542), presumably because Jews used it in order to keep food warm on the Sabbath; more puzzling is his reference to kings celebrating the Sabbath barefoot (6.159), possibly a confusion with the Day of Atonement, when the wearing of leather shoes was forbidden (Stern 1980: 100). Jews, for him, worship “Heaven” (6.545, 14.97); he alludes to the sacred written law, with Moses as its originator (14.101–2; cf. 6.544). Socially, Juvenal represents Jews primarily as beggars who use religious language to trick gullible Romans (Watts 1976: 102–4). He mentions, however, Agrippa II and his sister Berenice (whom he accuses of incest: 6.157–8); he also refers to an “Egyptian Arabarch” who had received a triumphal statue (1.129–31), probably a reference to Tiberius Julius Alexander. That he speaks of the latter as an Egyptian rather than a Jew is revealing; although Juvenal was hostile to Jews, he attacks other foreigners, especially Greeks and Egyptians, even more. Jews were a minor accent in his xenophobia rather than a major target in their own right.

Bibliography M. Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism, vol. 2. (Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1980), 94–107. W. J. Watts, “Race Prejudice in the Satires of Juvenal,” Acta Classica 19 (1976): 83–104. D. S. LEVENE

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Rights of Jews in the Roman World.

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Kingdom of God The announcement of “the kingdom (or rule) of God” (ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, hē basileia tou theou) is commonly associated with the central message of Jesus’ teaching. Most scholars today recognize that this theme, whether understood as a concept, as a wide-ranging “symbol” for God’s power (Perrin 1976: 194–205), or as a vision for socioreligious or even political transformation (e.g. Malina 2001), is deeply rooted in Second Temple Jewish tradition. As such, it ultimately developed from a perception of God as Israel’s king, whose rule at some point in the future will encompass the whole earth. Kingdom of God in the Jewish Scriptures and Related Writings.  The concept of the kingdom of God is founded on the conviction that Yahweh (the Lord), the God of Israel, is king. It is he who reigns over Israel and, ultimately, over the nations and over the whole earth. The primary vocabulary is malak (‫מלך‬, “he rules”), melek (‫מלך‬, “king”), and malkûtah (‫מלכותה‬, “kingdom”). The Greek equivalents, which appear in the Septuagint, the New Testament, and some further Second Temple literature, are basileuein (βασιλεύειν, “to rule”), basileus (βασιλεῦς, “king”), and basileia (βασιλεία, “kingdom”). The expression “kingdom of the Lord (Yahweh),” in the sense of God’s rule over Israel, occurs twice in Israel’s ancient scriptures, both times in Chronicles and both times in close association with David’s royal house (1 Chr 28:5; 2 Chr 13:8). The concept behind the expression, however, is widespread and underlies many texts (e.g. Num 23:21; 1 Sam 8:6–7; 2 Kgs 19:15, 19; Pss 29:10; 47:2; 84:3; 93:1; 95:3; 96:10 etc.; Isa 6:5; Dan 6:26). It was invoked in contexts that underscore God’s power to defeat adversaries and to save from danger (Exod 15; Isa 33:22; cf. 1 Sam 10:19). In particular, taking the notion of God as king as point of departure, some texts understand the office of kingship as designated or given by God to Israel’s king (2 Kgs 9:6; 1 Chr 29:22–23; 2 Chr 1:9; 9:8), God’s people (Dan 2:44; 7:18–27), or even to another ruler in a given instance (Dan 2:37; 5:18). The notion of the extension of God’s rule through the rule of designates presupposed a high degree of responsibility on the latter; not surprisingly, many texts represent human rule, even if ultimately derived from the God of Israel, as being in tension with God’s kingship (1 Sam 15:11, 35). Such tension may underlie the emphasis on divine kingship in some Second Temple texts (cf. 1 En. 9:4–11; 84:2–6; Dan 3:37; Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice; 1QM xii 8; xix 1; 1QHa xviii 10). Accordingly, whereas a document like 1 Maccabees avoids referring to the Hasmonean rulers as “king,” other sources apply the designation to an earthly ruler, whether in support of existing rule (e.g. coins minted by Aristobulus I in 105–104 bce) or perhaps in criticism of it (perhaps 11QTa lvi–lix; cf. Hengel, Charlesworth, Mendels 1986). In Psalms of Solomon, divine and ideal human kingship is expressly interlinked: on the one hand, the Davidic kingship is idealized and held as the model for the future earthly messiah’s activity as king (Pss. Sol. 17:4, 21, 32, 42), while on the other hand, the text emphasizes that it is God who is king (17:1, 3, 34, 45). Other works of Second Temple literature demonstrate further developments regarding the kingdom of God. For example, the Book of Daniel envisions a succession of four human kingdoms. These human kingdoms will be smashed by the kingdom that “the God of heaven will set up.” This will be the final kingdom “which shall never be destroyed” (Dan 2:44; see 4:34; 6:26), a tradition that is echoed in the Aramaic 4Q246 ii. In the Dead Sea Scrolls, especially 414

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in the Hebrew Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, one encounters numerous references to “his (God’s) kingdom” and “your kingdom” (e.g. 4Q405 24.3: “the glorious kingdom of the King of all the g[ods]”). The Greek Wisdom of Solomon (10:10) states that wisdom revealed to Jacob the “kingdom of God” while he was fleeing Esau, probably a reference to his vision at Bethel (Gen 28:12; Meier 1994: 253–88). Kingdom of God in the New Testament Gospels.  At the center of Jesus’ proclamation is the kingdom of God, the good news (or the gospel), for which Israel had waited: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). Jesus’ understanding of the good news of the kingdom of God reflects the good news proclaimed in the Book of Isaiah. The good news (or good tidings) is the appearance of God (Isa 40:9), the announcement of God’s reign (52:7) and of God’s saving, redemptive work (61:1–2). Some of these texts are quoted or alluded to in Jesus’ preaching (e.g. Isa 61:1–2 in Matt 11:5 // Luke 7:22; Luke 4:18–19). Jesus’ wording and interpretation reflect how Isaiah was paraphrased and interpreted in Aramaic. In the Targums, which post-date the time of Jesus and his disciples, one finds a close approximation of the language and conceptuality that evidently were reflected in an earlier form in the synagogues of 1st-century Israel. In several passages references to God, his appearance, or his reign are paraphrased in the expression “the kingdom of God is revealed” (Tg. Isa. 24:23; 31:4; 40:9; 52:7; Tg. Ezek. 7:7, 10; Tg. Obad. 21; Tg. Mic. 4:7, 8; Tg. Zech. 14:9). It has been plausibly argued that Jesus’ proclamation of the arrival of the kingdom of God reflects this Aramaic language, a language that emerged in the synagogue and later was preserved in the written Targumim (Chilton 1979; Chilton and Evans 1994). The theme of the kingdom of God is the subject of many of Jesus’ parables. Response to the kingdom is likened to seed that is sown (Mark 4:3–20 // esp. Matt 13:19; Mark 4:26–29, 30–32). Petitioning God that his kingdom come is the basic theme of one’s prayer (Matt 6:10; Luke 11:2). Seeking the kingdom is one’s first priority (Matt 6:33); it is valuable above all else (Matt 13:44, 45–46, 47–48). Those who are blessed are those who will enter the kingdom of God (Matt 5:3, 10), no matter what the cost (Mark 9:42–50; Beasley-Murray 1986: 194–218). Mark and Luke regularly speak of the “kingdom of God” (ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, hē basileia tou theou), which occurs in their works 14 and 32 times, respectively. Although the expression occurs in Matthew four times, the evangelist’s preferred language is “kingdom of heaven” (ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, hē basileia tou ouranou), which occurs some 32 times. This difference is purely formal and reflects Matthew’s tendency, probably observed in the synagogue of his day, to avoid pronouncing the name of God. A further 18 times in Matthew “kingdom” appears without further qualification (Matt 8:12; 9:35; 13:19; etc.). Matthew also uniquely speaks of the “sons of the kingdom” (Matt 8:12; 13:38). The second reference is positive: the good seed of the parable of the Wheat and Tares are the sons of the kingdom. However, the first passage, which is embedded in the story of the healing of the centurion’s servant (Matt 8:5–13 // Luke 7:1–10), warns that the sons of the kingdom “will be thrown into outer darkness.” Here the sons of the kingdom are Israelites, who by heritage and patriarchal promises expect to enter the kingdom of heaven and sit at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But because of unbelief and refusal to repent, they will be excluded while other less likely candidates, such as those who “come from east and west” (cf. Isa 43:5), will be included. 415

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Matthew’s parables that distinguish between the good and the bad should be understood in the same way (Matt 13:24–30, 47–50; 25:1–13). These Matthean parables, in underscoring the universal scope of God’s reign, serve as warnings to ethnic Israel: failure to repent and embrace Jesus’ proclamation of the kingdom will ultimately result in being excluded from the kingdom of God (Evans 2014: 38–58). The function of “kingdom of God” in the Gospel of John is distinctive. The expression only occurs twice, both times in John 3 (vv. 3 and 5), in Jesus’ well-known conversation with Nicodemus. Jesus tells the teacher that he must be born from above (or anew) and must be “born of water and the Spirit” if he is to see or enter the kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God in Acts and the Epistles.  The expressions “kingdom” and “kingdom of God” occur eight times in the book of Acts. During the 40 days the risen Jesus was with his disciples, he was “speaking of the kingdom of God” (1:3). This leads to the disciples’ question, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” (1:6). The question is not answered; the disciples are simply told that they are not “to know times or seasons,” which are only known to God (1:7). Instead, they are to wait to receive power at the coming of the Holy Spirit and then bear witness to Jesus (1:8). This occurs on the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2). Elsewhere in Acts, Philip preaches the “good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ” (8:12). The Paul of Acts teaches his converts that “through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” (14:22). The book of Acts concludes on a positive note, saying that Paul “welcomed all who came to him, preaching the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ” (28:30–31). It is thus clear from these references that God’s rule remains the focus of the expression, even though Jesus is presented as its decisive mediator. In his letters, Paul refers several times to the kingdom. He reminds the Thessalonians that God called them “into his own kingdom and glory” (1 Thess 2:12) and explains that their suffering makes them “worthy of the kingdom of God” (2 Thess 1:5). Notably, “kingdom of God” appears five times in 1 Corinthians. The kingdom of God “does not consist in talk but in power” (4:20); the “unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God” (6:9, 10), nor can it, in principle, be inherited by “flesh and blood” (15:50); and Jesus is temporarily placed in charge of the kingdom until the end when, after vanquishing “every ruler, power, and authority,” he hands it back to God the Father (15:24). In the letter to the churches of Galatia, Paul repeats his warning that the wicked “shall not inherit the kingdom of God” (Gal 5:21). Elsewhere in the New Testament references to the kingdom of God are relatively rare (Col 4:11; Eph 5:5—“of Christ and of God”; Rev 12:10). In post-New Testament literature the expression “kingdom of God” more clearly gives way to “kingdom of Christ” (e.g. 1 Clem. 50:3; Mart. Pol. 22:1; Barn. 8:5).

Bibliography G. R. Beasley-Murray, Jesus and the Kingdom of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986). B. Chilton, God in Strength: Jesus’ Announcement of the Kingdom, SNTU 1 (Feistadt: F. Plöchl, 1979). B. Chilton and C. A. Evans, “Jesus and Israel’s Scriptures,” in  Studying the Historical Jesus: Evaluating the State of Current Research, ed. B. Chilton and C. Evans, NTTS 19 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 281–336.

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C. A. Evans, From Jesus to the Church (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2014). M. Hengel, J. Charlesworth, and D. Mendels, “The Polemical Character of the ‘On Kingship’ in the Temple Scroll,” JJS 37 (1986): 28–38. B. J. Malina, The Social Gospel of Jesus: The Kingdom of God in Mediterranean Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001). J. P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. 2 (New York: Doubleday, 1994). N. Perrin, Jesus and the Language of the Kingdom: Symbol and Metaphor in New Testament Interpretation (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976). CRAIG A. EVANS

Related entries: Eschatology; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Luke-Acts; Matthew, Gospel of; Mark, Gospel of; Messianism.

Kingship in Ancient Israel Background.  Several lines of inquiry are featured in the scholarship on kingship in ancient Israel. They include (a) the analysis of kingship as a social institution and the use of sociological and/or comparative approaches to study kingship as a part of a social development from tribal leadership to monarchies. (b) Another approach utilizes archaeology and biblical criticism in order to focus on the historical reconstruction of the specific events, persons, and institutions associated with the kingship of ancient Israel such as the reigns of Kings Saul, David, Solomon (1052–930 bce), and the various monarchs of Israel (930–750 bce) and Judah (930–586 bce). Finally, (c) some research has concentrated more exclusively on textual analysis in order to recover a portrait of ancient Israelite kingship in terms of political ideology, collective memory, and theology. Here attention is given to different views of leadership in order to discern how biblical narratives presented individual kings in service of a particular theology. The results of these approaches are not always straightforward, since individual texts analyzed are often the product of centuries of revision and editing, and the archaeological evidence is sparse and difficult to coordinate with the texts. Perspectives and Approaches.  In attempting to understand Israelite kingship as a sociological development in the ancient Near East, numerous scholars have associated changes in settlement patterns and military crises with a shift from tribal confederacy (for Israel, the period of the judges) to a more centralized administration of growing urban environments (the period of the kings Saul and David). Such broadly similar shifts produced comparable views of kingship which included the following: (a) the establishment of the king’s legitimacy through notions of divine adoption or appointment and (b) the king’s duty to administer justice, act as military commander, and build and maintain a temple. Despite contextual differences, these ideals were shared by ancient Israel with her ancient Near Eastern neighbors in Ugarit, Sumer, Canaan, Assyria, and Babylon (Day 1998; Miller 2005). In terms of historical reconstruction, archaeological research has confirmed, through a 9thcentury bce inscription referring to a “house of David” found at Tel Dan in northern Israel, the existence of the Davidic dynasty. In addition, there is evidence of massive gate projects at Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer that, in turn, may indicate a coordinated building campaign under King Solomon. However, the dating of these gate projects has been questioned, along with previous theories that connected specific remains in Jerusalem to the united monarchy (Mazar 2007; 417

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Finkelstein 2010). Moreover, very limited or no archaeological evidence exists for a number of kings associated with the divided monarchy. The sparseness of this evidence is largely due to the continuous habitation of many of the relevant sites and to the remaining challenge posed by evaluating the historicity of biblical accounts. Textual analysis has focused on the books of 1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings, and 1 and 2 Chronicles, all of which feature narratives regarding the rise of the united and divided monarchies. These accounts’ historical veracity has been a major issue for interpretation, given their tendency to revise earlier accounts in response to changing sociohistorical contexts, as evidenced, e.g., in the Chronicles’ revision of 1–2 Samuel and 1–2 Kings. The historical veracity of the Deuteronomistic History in the latter is further challenged by several competing viewpoints regarding the desirability of kingship, the relationship of the king to YHWH, and the success or ineffectiveness of the various kings. In other words, the numerous interpretations of these texts depend on particular exegetical assumptions about the composition and dating of different sources; theories about ancient historiography, genre, and readership; suppositions about the sociohistorical context for the composition and revision of the narratives; and presumptions about connections between the texts and sparse archaeological evidence (see Van Seters 2009; Blenkinsopp 2013). This variability transfers to interpretations of the texts as they relate to the historical, mythic, political ideology, or theological portraits of the kings. For instance, scholars present King David as a flawed, but pious monarch; as a guerilla warrior or revolutionary leader; or as an astute usurper of power who evolves into a tyrant (McKenzie 2000; Halpern 2001). The competing viewpoints, which both occur within the narrative and arise from exegetical assumptions, have resulted in a similar variety of portraits for Saul (Ehrlich and White 2006) and Solomon (Verheyden 2013). Thus, the reconstructed portraits of the Israelite and Judahite kings vary with respective emphases on them as historical personages, legendary figures, or as figures of ideological construct or theological censure. Apart from which construal is followed, the texts concerned with kingship point to the emergence of an ideal that involved the king’s maintenance of an appropriate covenantal relationship with YHWH. In rudimentary ways, this ideal finds expression in depictions or aspects of the reigns of David and Solomon. In particular, the ideal king is the one who enacts YHWH’s justice as represented in the covenant/Torah and who respects the primacy of the Jerusalem Temple and its priesthood. This view is associated with King Josiah’s reforms that are tied to the discovery of the “Book of the Law” (cf. 2 Kgs 22–23; 2 Chr 34–35). The absence of any archaeological evidence regarding Josiah and the idealized nature of his reforms suggest that the narrative was part of a conceptual re-visioning of Israel’s history that dates somewhere between 640 and 400 bce (Schmid 2007). This idealized version of kingship seems to place the king within a monotheistic framework that holds him to account to Israel’s God. The king is both a representative of YHWH’s justice and a devoted follower of YHWH’s cult. The kings, particularly David and Solomon, are praised for their adherence to this model. For example, David, as one who selects Jerusalem as the “permanent” site for the cult, and Solomon, as the builder of the Jerusalem Temple, become features in a collective memory that functions in the texts about them to support notions regarding ideal rule. However, David, the warrior or “man of blood,” and Solomon, the extravagant monarch with elaborate building plans and political alliances through marriage, are subject to criticism and rebuke (cf., e.g., 2 Sam 24:10, 17; 1 Kgs 418

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15:3; 1 Chr 21:8, 17). The idealized or utopian view of kingship was far from static, subject to changing sociopolitical factors and ideals of transmitters of tradition in ancient Israel. Conclusion.  In sum, language on kingship in the Hebrew Bible is varied in itself. Analyzed through the lenses of different approaches, whether based in sociological method, archaeological research, or ideological perspective (or manifold combinations thereof), the texts have yielded only a limited degree of scholarly consensus regarding the development of kingship as an institution and the ideologies associated with it.

Bibliography J. Day, ed. King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, JSOT Sup 270 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998). C. S. Ehrlich and M. C. White, eds., Saul in Story and Tradition, FAT 47 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). I. Finkelstein, “A Great United Monarchy? Archaeological and Historical Perspectives,” in One God—One Cult–One Nation, ed. R. G. Kratz and H. Spieckermann (New York: De Gruyter, 2010), 3–28. B. Halpern, David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001). A. Mazar, “The Search for David and Solomon: An Archaeological Perspective,” in The Quest for the Historical Israel: Debating Archaeology and History of Early Israel, ed. B. Schmidt (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 117–39. S. L. McKenzie, King David: A Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). R. D. Miller, Chieftains of the Highland Clans: A History of Israel in the 12th and 11th Centuries B.C (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005). K. Schmid, “The Persian Imperial Authorization as a Historical Problem and as Biblical Construct,” in The Pentateuch as Torah: New Models for Understanding Its Promulgation and Acceptance, ed. G. N. Knoppers and B. M. Levison (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2007). J. Van Seters, The Biblical Saga of King David (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2009). ANNE MOORE

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; Kings, Books of; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Kingdom of God; Righteousness and Justice; Samuel, Books of.

Kingship in Second Temple Judaism Kingship in Second Temple Judaism is grounded in views about kingship directly preceding and during the building of the Second Temple in Jerusalem during the Persian postexilic period. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, images of God’s kingship include an emphasis on God as a cosmic and universal suzerain king, God as covenantal sovereign to Israel (at times via their human king), and God as a king of justice (Moore 2009: 4–5). God is frequently pictured as enthroned in heavenly Zion mirrored on earth by the Temple in Jerusalem. These emphases continue into depictions of God’s kingship in Second Temple Judaism as God is frequently depicted as the true king, whether in relationship to a chosen Davidic king over Israel or not. In the Persian period, the influence of Persian kings ruling Israel impacted views of kingship in texts like Third Isaiah, the Psalter, and Chronicles (Lynch 2014). While proclaiming hope for Israelite kingship to be renewed, Third Isaiah also located God’s hand on the Persian king Cyrus (Isaiah 44:28–45:2). The Psalter in its final shaping in the postexilic period has a strong focus on kingship, but tends to shift the focus from the hopes of an earthly Davidic king to the hope of God’s kingship across the course of the Psalter (Wilson 1985). 419

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First and Second Chronicles represent another common shift in this period, where hope for a renewed Davidic kingship is couched within a focus on Temple ideology. Similarly, several postexilic texts like Nehemiah and Ezra are primarily focused on a return to the Temple rather than a renewal of kingship. However, other works from this period and subsequent to them represent a blended hope for the coming of a king like David alongside a high priest (e.g. Zechariah). It is highly debated whether these texts in the Hebrew Bible already move in the direction of an eschatological vision for kingship or whether this development only begins to take place in later Second Temple, post-Hasmonean texts (cf. Horbury 1998: 5–35; Collins 2010: 20–48). Either way, hopes for kingship eventually take an eschatological and at times apocalyptic turn across the Second Temple period. At times this eschatological view of kingship moves kingship from primarily the political and physical realm to a future spiritual realm. Yet such movements are possible because the vision of human kingship in all of its physical and political attributes in the Hebrew Bible was always grounded in the spiritual kingship of YHWH who reigns in heavenly Zion. In the Maccabean period, emphasis on kingship fell on the false kingship of the foreign rulers. Unlike Third Isaiah, which cast the Persian rulers as messiah figures, the books of the Maccabees locate true rule in divine hands as set against the false rule of foreign kings. Antiochus IV Epiphanes, Hellenistic king of the Seleucid Empire, represented one such despised foreign king ruling over Israel. His desecration of the Temple and high priesthood met with profound critiques of foreign kingship in the book of Daniel (11:36–45) and the Maccabean literature (e.g. 1 Macc 1:10; 2 Macc 5:17, 9:1–28; 4 Macc 4:15) because of his direct defamation of the divine kingship of Israel’s God. According to Maccabean literature, Antiochus is a villain and his outlawing of Jewish rites and ritual and his demand of Zeus worship led to the Maccabean revolt (cf. 2 Macc 6:2). However, it is not clear whether this revolt was primarily an anti-imperial stance or an internal war among Jews of the period. Similar to the Maccabean literature, Tobit strongly critiques false foreign kings (Tob 1:16–20), emphasizing instead the praise of God’s eternal kingship (Tob 13:2–13). Similar to writings in the Maccabean period that critique foreign kingship, the Psalms of Solomon emphasizes God’s eternal kingship and points to David’s seed as the perpetuation of this kingship in a way that may be in direct opposition to the Hasmonean reign (Pss. Sol. 17) and elsewhere critiques Roman rule in the form of Pompey the “dragon” (Pss. Sol. 2). In the Psalms of Solomon, God is the great savior and true king and at times his kingship is embodied in a hope for a Davidic king (Werline 2005). The Hasmonean period located power in priest and king as joined roles. This joining of roles created complexities for the perspective on kingship in subsequent writings, which at times had an anti-Hasmonean bent. Often in response, later Jewish writers carefully delineated between priestly and kingly roles. For example, in Jubilees 31:11–20 the roles of king and priest are carefully specified (Collins 2010: 85–87). However, later apocalypses like 2 Enoch joined king and priest roles in an anticipated future figure who would be like Melchizedek (Fletcher-Louis 2012). Images related to kingship could, in some apocalyptic contexts, be carried over to descriptions of the ultimate status of the righteous, who will be enthroned. Already attested in 4Q521 2 ii 7

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(“he [i.e. the Lord] will honor the pi[o]us on the throne of his eternal kingdom”), the notion is picked up in later writings of the 1st century CE (e.g. 1 En. 108:12; Rev 3:21). While difficult to date and complex in questions of unity and provenance, the literature at Qumran represents a diversity of hopes related to kingship. For example, 4Q246, the highly debated “Son of God” text, may provide a hope for a royal figure in the line of David with an everlasting kingdom (Collins 2010: 154–163), while texts like the Damascus Document (CD vii 13–20) replace conceptions of kingship with righteous practice in the community. Some Qumran literature includes both Aaronic (priestly) and Davidic (royal) messiahs as the future hope for Israel (e.g. 1QS ix 11; 1QSa ii 11–21; 1QSb; 4QTestim). Some scholars have suggested that this differentiation between priest and king roles and the rising hope for a Davidic king mark transitional periods within the Qumran community (Charlesworth 1981). A periodization of the phases at Qumran on such a basis, however, has been seriously questioned on archaeological grounds (Magness 2002: 47–72). Within Hellenistic Judaism, writers like Philo sought to link traditional Jewish themes with Hellenistic philosophy (cf. Barraclough 1984). Extending ideals of Hellenistic kingship to the figure of Moses (Mos. 1.148–62), Philo describes Moses as the true king because he is the living law (Mos. 2.4). However, Philo maintains God as the one true king who gives the law through Moses. Thus, Mosaic kingship is derived from divine kingship in a similar way to Davidic kingship in Philonic literature. In addition to Moses, several other traditional Jewish figures are depicted as kings in Second Temple Jewish literature. Philo characterizes as kings Adam (Opif. 148), Abraham (Abr. 261; Virt. 216), and Melchizedek (Leg. 3). Second Enoch depicts Adam as king to reign on the earth (2 En. 30:11) and anticipates a climactic king who will be like Melchizedek in his role as priest and king (2 En. 71:35). Thus, depictions of kingship in many Second Temple Jewish traditions link God as king to both Israelite and foreign kingship, while in others they are highly critical of foreign kingship. Shifts toward a Temple ideology and vacillating delineations between priestly and royal roles are also characteristic of this period, especially following the Maccabean revolt. The expansion of the kingship motif to include the righteous community and traditional Jewish figures further complicates the picture of kingship in Second Temple Judaism. In relation to the righteous community, this development is most clearly discernible in texts concerned with their position in the afterlife.

Bibliography R. Barraclough, “Philo’s Politics. Roman Rule and Hellenistic Judaism,” ANRW II.21.1 (1984): 520–21. J. H. Charlesworth, “The Origin and Subsequent History of the Authors of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Transitional Phases among the Qumran Essenes,” RQ 10 (1979–1981): 213–33. C. H. T. Fletcher-Louis, “2  Enoch and the New Perspective on Apocalypticism,” in New Perspectives on 2 Enoch: No Longer Slavonic Only, ed. A. A. Orlov and G. Boccaccini, SJS 4 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 127–48. M. Lynch, Monotheism and Institutions in the Book of Chronicles: Temple, Priesthood, and Kingship in Post-Exilic Perspective, FAT 2.64 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). J. W. Martens, One God, One Law: Philo of Alexandria on the Mosaic and Greco-Roman Law, SPAM 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2003).

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A. Moore, Moving Beyond Symbol and Myth: Understanding the Kingship of God of the Hebrew Bible through Metaphor, Studies in Biblical Literature 99 (New York: Peter Lang, 2009). R. A. Werline, “The Psalms of Solomon and the Ideology of Rule,” in Conflicted Boundaries in Wisdom and Apocalypticism, ed. B. C. Wright and L. M. Wills, SBLSS 35 (Atlanta: SBL, 2005), 69–88. G. H. Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter, SBLDS 76 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985). BETH M. STOVELL

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Chronicles, Books of; Daniel, Book of; Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Hasmonean Dynasty; Isaiah, Book of; Messiah; Messianism; Persian Period; Philo of Alexandria; Psalms, Book of; Tobit, Book of.

Lamprias Lamprias, who lived in the second half of the 1st century ce, was the brother of Plutarch, the philosophical writer and priest of Apollo at Delphi (Stern 1974: 1.550–62). Since Lamprias is also the name of Plutarch’s grandfather it is likely that Plutarch’s brother was named after him. Lamprias figures as a character in many of Plutarch’s writings. In the two Plutarchean Table Talks dealing with Jewish traditions Lamprias is the central speaker (Quaest. conv. IV 4–6, 669C–672B). In Why the Jews refrain from eating pork he argues (in a typically Plutarchean manner) that Jews refrain from eating pork because they associate the white pustules on the belly of every pig with a form of leprosy and feel disgusted by the fact that the pig lives in muddy and filthy places. An additional reason given is that the eyes of the pig are said to point to the ground so that pigs never see the sky. A last reason is that the pig is said to have killed Adonis, who is obviously identified with Adonai. This identification is taken up in the following Who Is the God of the Jews, in which Lamprias identifies the God of the Jews with Dionysus and connects several aspects of Jewish tradition to Dionysiac tradition. The feast of tabernacles (σκηνοπαγία, skēnopagia) is connected with Dionysus because of the huts decorated with vines and ivy, the dionysiac Sabboi with the Sabbath, and the Levites with the names of Dionysus: Λύσιος (Lusios) and Εὔιος (Eyios); according to Lamprias, even the garment of the high priest resembles dionysiac customs.

Bibliography See General Bibliography RAINER HIRSCH-LUIPOLD

Related entries: Diet in Palestine; Festivals and Holy Days; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Plutarch; Priesthood.

Land, Concept of The Hebrew Bible.  The land of Canaan was promised to the patriarchs in the Pentateuch (e.g. Gen 50:24; Exod 13:5, 11; 32:13; 33:1; Num 11:12; 14:23; 32:11), and the fulfillment of these promises is depicted over the course of Early Prophetic literature. In the books of Joshua-Kings, the people of Israel twice change their status from a landless to a landed people. The exile renders them landless again (2 Kgs 25), but the return to Zion in the period of the Second Temple

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redefines them as landed (Ezra-Neh, Hag and Zech). As there is no methodological consensus in regard to the dating of the biblical texts, it is notoriously difficult to trace any development in Land theology. Second Temple Literature. The texts from the Second Temple period reveal multifaceted approaches toward the concept of “land”; the idea had evolved throughout history and was far from monolithic. “Land” may refer to physical territory, but the term also represented a spiritualized universal or eschatological concept. This dichotomy is reflected in the broad range of scholarly literature on the subject, which explores both physical territory (e.g. the Land of Israel’s boundaries) and its spiritualized or conceptualized form. Dead Sea Texts and Related Literature.  In both Tobit and Psalms of Solomon, the Land (and particularly Jerusalem) is referred to as the place where all Israel will gather in the future. Other sources focus on the return of Israel’s ten lost tribes; they include 11QTa lvii 5–6, 4 Ezra 13:32–50, 2 Baruch 78:1–7, and Sibylline Oracles 2.170–73, as well as various references in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. The phrase “inheritance of our fathers” in 1 Maccabees 15:33–34 may refer to Judea, or a “greater Judah,” but not to the “Promised Land,” especially not according to its maximalist definition in some biblical texts. In LAB, 4 Ezra, and 2 Baruch, the holy land is considered a gift from God, but receiving this gift is conditioned upon the people’s behavior. In 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch the holy land is a refuge during the tribulations leading to the messianic age and the manifestation of New Jerusalem as the resting place for God’s people. The Land of Israel, with the sanctuary at its heart, occupies center stage in the Book of Jubilees’ eschatological predictions. The universalistic strains in the book are completely subordinated to its particularistic emphasis on Israel and the Temple in the Land. Jubilees puts a premium on determining the ideal borders of the ideal Land, implying that the ultimate realignment of sacred space with sacred time is contingent upon these borders. The question in Jubilees is whether the Land itself plays any role in Jubilees’ eschatological expectations, or whether Israel’s restoration remains its particular focus. Halpern-Amaru (1986: 85) deals with the concept of the Land in Philo and in Josephus. She points out Philo’s somewhat contradictory portrayal: sometimes the Land signifies the mysterious and fearful unknown, “an adolescent stage wherein the soul tosses about in its pursuit of wisdom,” whereas in other passages, “the Land becomes a metaphor for the source of perfect wisdom and its associated virtues.” She holds that Josephus consistently downplayed the prominent biblical “Land theology,” omitting covenant scenes or reinterpreting them in such a way as to underemphasize the promise of the Land of Israel, which he presented as a prediction rather than a promise. Her arguments were contested by Avioz (2014), who concluded that there is no significant difference between Josephus and the Hebrew Bible in this regard. The term “Land of Israel” occurs only rarely in the Dead Sea texts. The area of Judea is often termed “Land of Judah” in the scrolls, reflecting the political realities of the Greco-Roman period. In Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah, the Land of Israel serves as a legal expression to denote

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the area subject to the Jewish laws of the tithing of produce and of the offering of the fourthyear produce. The Temple Scroll offers a notion of concentric spheres of holiness and expresses distinct concern for the sanctity of the entire Land of Israel as sacred space. The right of Israelites to inhabit and rule over the Land of Israel—i.e. the region allotted to Arpachshad during the earth’s division—was of extreme importance to the author of the Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20). The New Testament.  In 1974, Davies published the monograph The Gospel and the Land, which would prove central to studies of the Land theme in Jewish and Christian sources. Davies claims that the New Testament texts show little interest in the Land’s territorial dimension. Instead, the land’s primary significance lies in its historical setting for the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus: “In sum, for the holiness of place, Christianity has fundamentally, though not consistently, substituted the holiness of the Person: it has Christified holy space” (Davies 1974: 368). Davies holds that Luke aimed to confront Jewish hopes of regaining control over the Land. Rabbinic Literature. The Land figures prominently in Mishnaic, Talmudic, and midrashic literature. Aware of its holiness, the rabbis defined certain biblical laws as “commandments that depend on the land,” which should be practiced only in the Land of Israel. The rabbis also invested great efforts in determining the land of Israel’s territorial borders (Ben-Eliyahu 2012). The failure of the Bar Kokhba revolt, and the Hadrianic persecution that followed, deprived Jews of hope for political national independence and the realization of messianic and eschatological dreams. This resulted in a reduced Jewish population in the Land and the emigration of certain central personalities. It was therefore not until the Bar Kokhba period that Tannaitic sources began to emphasize the importance of “living in the Land of Israel” itself (Gafni 1997).

Bibliography M. Avioz, “Land Theology in Josephus. A Reappraisal,” in The Gift of the Land and the Fate of the Canaanites in the History of Jewish Thought, from Antiquity to the Modern Period, ed. K. Berthelot, J. E. David, and M. Hirshman (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 36–49. E. Ben-Eliyahu, Between Borders: The Boundaries of Eretz-Israel in the Consciousness of the Jewish People in the Time of the Second Temple and in the Mishnah and Talmud Period (Jerusalem: Yad BenZvi Press, 2012) (Hebrew). W. D. Davies, The Territorial Dimension of Judaism, 2nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991). B. Halpern-Amaru, “Land Theology in Philo and Josephus,” in The Land of Israel: Jewish Perspectives, ed. L. A. Hoffman (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1986), 65–93. Z. Safrai and H. Safrai, “The Holiness of the Land of Israel and Jerusalem—Outline of an Idea’s Development,” in Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple, Mishna and Talmud Periods: Shmuel Safrai Jubilee Volume, ed. A. Oppenheimer, Y. Gafni, and M. Stern (Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1993), 344–71 (Hebrew). J. Scott, On Earth as in Heaven: The Restoration of Sacred Time and Sacred Space in the Book of Jubilees, JSJSup 91 (Leiden: Brill, 2005). MICHAEL AVIOZ

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Eschatology; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, First Book of; Messianism; People of the Land (am ha-Aretz); Restoration.

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Latin Evidence for the use of Latin as a spoken language among the Jews of the Second Temple period is limited. What survives is mostly epigraphic evidence. Josephus (J.W. 5.193; cf. 6.125) reports that there were inscriptions in Greek and Latin in the Jerusalem Temple admonishing visitors not to enter the sanctuary, but these were likely written for foreigners. There are a number of Jewish inscriptions in Latin from the western empire including the city of Rome, many of which date to the 4th century and later. Of the over 600 funerary inscriptions from the Jewish catacombs in the city of Rome roughly 20% are in Latin with the vast majority in Greek, the predominant language of diaspora Jews. The paucity of evidence combined with its generally later dating suggests that even in the western empire Jews were slower than others to adopt Latin (Rutgers 1995: 176–209; Price 2003). Despite the lack of evidence for Jewish use of Latin in the period, it remains a significant language for the study of Judaism in the Greco-Roman period due to a number of literary works that are either preserved solely in Latin or for which the Latin witness is important. These works include the Life of Adam and Eve, 4 Ezra, the Book of Jubilees, the Assumption of Moses, Pseudo-Philo’s Liber antiquitatum biblicarum, and the Book of Tobit (Old Latin). The Life of Adam and Eve is extant in many versions, including Greek, Latin, Armenian, Georgian, and Old Church Slavonic, in addition to Coptic fragments. The relationship between these versions is complex. Though they are all translations from a Greek original, it is not clear how this Vorlage relates to the current Greek text. The manuscripts of the Latin version can be grouped into four families, with some significant differences among them. Fourth Ezra is preserved in a number of versions translated from a Greek original, itself probably a translation from Hebrew. The Latin version of 4 Ezra, included in the Vulgate, has been given pride of place in scholarship, with second place assigned to a Syriac version translated from a similar Greek original. Unlike many of the other texts preserved in Latin, the translation from Greek was made early and is quoted by Christian authors beginning with Tertullian; Ambrose made the greatest use of the text. The Book of Jubilees is preserved in its entirety in a number of Ethiopic manuscripts. There is also a Latin version preserved as a palimpsest in a manuscript dating to the 5th or 6th century ce. Due to the nature of the manuscript, only about a quarter to a third of the text can be read clearly. Both the Latin and the Ethiopic were translated independently from Greek versions, which were in turn translations from a Hebrew original. Many fragments of Hebrew texts of Jubilees have been found at Qumran. The Latin version seems earlier than the Ethiopic and is useful for helping in the interpretation of the latter. The Assumption of Moses is preserved only in a fragmentary 6th-century Latin palimpsest. A number of Grecisms in the text suggest that it is a translation from a Greek text, which may itself be a translation from a Semitic original. The language of the text is Vulgar Latin and can be dated to the 5th century on the basis of orthography and style. The Liber antiquitatum biblicarum (LAB) is preserved among the works of Philo translated into Latin, though Philo’s authorship is now rejected. The text is preserved in 18 complete manuscripts with a few additional fragmentary ones. Like the Assumption of Moses the language of the text is Vulgar Latin, and a 4th-century date has been suggested. LAB is translated from a Greek text that was in turn based on a Hebrew original. The Latin of LAB is similar to that of

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the Vetus Latina. Despite the translation from Greek, the biblical text underlying LAB is not the Septuagint and is likely a Hebrew version. The Old Latin (Vetus Latina) version of Tobit is an important witness to the earliest version of the text. Tobit is preserved in three Greek versions: a long form (Sinaiticus), a short form (Alexandrinus and Vaticanus), and an intermediate form (one manuscript). The Old Latin version, preserved in a number of manuscripts, is reminiscent of the Sinaiticus version. It is also similar to the Hebrew text of Tobit fragments found at Qumran. Old Latin Tobit differs significantly from Jerome’s translation found in the Vulgate.

Bibliography J. J. Price, “The Jews and the Latin Language in the Roman Empire,” in Jews and Gentiles in the Holy Land in the Days of the Second Temple, the Mishnah and the Talmud, ed. M. Mor, A. Oppenheimer, J. Pastor, and D. R. Schwartz (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2003), 165–80. KENNETH R. JONES

Related entries: Ezra, Fourth Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Multilingualism; Romanization.

Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism For the most part, Latin authors mention Jews and Judaism only in passing. There is enough evidence, however, to gain an impression of their views. Only one systematic treatment of the Jews and their history is extant in Latin, namely the excursus by Tacitus at the start of his narrative of the siege of Jerusalem by Titus (Hist. 5.1–13). While various authors mention the land of Judea in their works, most of the references to Jews as a people reflect their presence in the city of Rome, rather than in their homeland. The earliest passage is Cicero in his judicial speech, Pro Flacco (28.66–69), where he describes them as a numerous and powerful pressure group in Rome. Their religion he calls a “barbaric superstition” (Barbara superstitio), an expression which recurs in the work of Quintilian (Inst. 3.7.21), who describes the Jewish people as “a curse to others” and as “pernicious,” themselves expressions echoed by Seneca (the Younger) the Philosopher’s “utterly accursed people” (sceleratissima gens, Stern, vol. 1, no.186), and by Tacitus’ “a very disgusting people” (taeterrima gens, Hist. 5.8.9). Juvenal describes the environs of Porta Capena as having been taken over by Jewish vagrant beggars (Sat. 3.10–18; 290–96; also: 8.158–62). Jewish women engage in fraudulent interpretations of dreams for money (Sat. 6.542–7). Most extensive and negative is Tacitus: “The other customs of the Jews are base and abominable and owe their persistence to their depravity” (Hist. 5.1). The origin of these practices, according to Tacitus, is to be found in the role of Moses, who, as a kind of perverse precedent for Augustus, “introduced new religious practices, quite opposed to those of all other religions, in order to establish his influence on the people forever” (Hist. 5.4.1). Most passages in Latin literature on Jews refer to Jewish religion and customs. Varro (Varro, Marcus Terentius; 116–27 bce) is exceptional in his respect for Jewish monotheism and its rejection of a cult image (Stern, vol. 1, nos. 72a–d). Tacitus, otherwise fiercely critical, describes this aspect of their religion in a neutral manner (Hist. 5.5.4). Horace seems to have found the Jews naïve and credulous: “Apella the Jew may believe this, not me” (Serm. 1.5.100).

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By far the most frequently mentioned Jewish custom is the Shabbat, which was usually regarded as a peculiarity or an oddity. Authors who note this custom include Tibullus (Carm. 1.3.15–18), Horace (Serm. 1.9.67–71), Ovid (Ars 1.75–76, 413–416), Suetonius (Aug. 76.2, also: Tib. 32.2), and Tacitus (Hist. 4.3–4), as well as those who mention it in a more hostile or critical context, namely, Seneca (Ep. 95.47), Petronius (frg. 37), Martial (Epigr. 4.7), and Juvenal (Sat. 6.159). Some of these authors, Petronius among them, believe that the Shabbat is a fasting day. Tacitus adds a “seventh year” of inactivity to the custom of the Shabbat. A subject of acute sensitivity is that of conversion, often seen as a form of betrayal of Roman values and loyalties. No statistics for conversion exist, of course, but the distinguishable perception in the texts is that it was thought to be frequent and regarded as an unacceptable phenomenon. Horace is hard to understand, but seems to be critical (Serm. 1.4.139–143): “We (poets), like the Jews, will compel you to become one of our throng.” Particularly hostile is Seneca: “Meanwhile the customs of this accursed race have gained such influence that they are now received throughout all the world. The vanquished have given laws to their victors” (Stern, vol.1, no.186). Juvenal describes the phenomenon as an extreme form of betrayal: “Having been wont to flout the laws of Rome, they learn and practice and revere the Jewish law, and all that Moses handed down in his secret tome, forbidding them to point out the way to any not worshipping the same rites” (Sat. 14.96–106). Tacitus is equally hostile: “Those who are converted follow the same practice, and the earliest lesson they receive is to despise the gods, to disown their country, and to regard their parents, children, and brothers as of little account” (Hist. 5.5.2 also Ann. 13.32.2). Another custom that strikes Latin authors is circumcision. Circumcision is, in fact, the one famous identifying mark of a Jew. An example is Horace: “the circumcised Jews” (Serm. 1.9.70; also: Petronius, Sat.102.14; frg. 37). In Martial’s work circumcision appears several times: for instance, “the lecheries of circumcised Jews” (Epigr. 7.30; 7.35; 7.82; 11.94). Tacitus has his own, explicit explanation for the custom: “They adopted circumcision to distinguish themselves from other peoples by this difference” (Hist. 5.5.2). Finally, Latin authors also comment on the Jewish diet. Choice of foods was a sensitive topic because eating habits and cooking were an important element in the Greek and Roman assessment of foreign peoples. A phenomenon encountered several times is the belief that abstention from pork was not a simple prohibition but connected with the sacredness of the pig (Petronius, frg. 37): porcinum numen. This fragment of Petronius brings three of the favorite topics together: pork, circumcision, and the Shabbat. The pig is, in this view of the Jews, not a source of pollution and hence prohibited, but instead possesses divine status. In his sixth satire Juvenal makes fun of the Jewish abstention from pork—as he does of the Shabbat, as cited above (Sat. 6.153–160). Tacitus mentions the abstinence from pork and gives an invented explanation as part of his account of the exodus, which is based on a hostile Alexandrian version. It is worth noting features that are entirely, or almost entirely, absent in the list of negative Jewish qualities presented by Latin authors. The Jews are not, as in later periods, greedy traders or treacherous bankers, features often ascribed to the Phoenicians in the classical literature. This lack almost certainly stems from the fact that the Jews were not very active in these occupations in the Second Temple period. Cicero, as mentioned above, once called both the Jews and the Syrians “born for slavery,” but in the case of the Jews this designation is altogether exceptional. 427

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The reason may be that, stubborn and rebellious as they were, the Jews simply were not seen as typically slavish, though Roman authors regarded many eastern peoples in this way. The negative assessment of the Jews encountered in the Latin literature focuses on their religion and their eccentric religious customs, with special criticism of conversion and converts. The latter point was particularly sensitive, because of the exclusive nature of monotheism, the perceived social exclusivity of the Jews, and, hence, their lack of loyalty to the state. The bottom line, however, is that the Jews were criticized for how they acted, not for what they were. This represents religious and ethnic hostility, not an early form of racism.

Bibliography R. S. Bloch, Antike Vorstellungen vom Judentum: der Judenexkurs des Tacitus im Rahmen der griechischrömischen Ethnographie (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2002). J. G. Gager, The Origins of Anti-Semitism: Attitudes toward Judaism in Pagan and Christian Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 1983). E. S. Gruen, Rethinking the Other in Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011). P. Schäfer, Judeophobia: Attitudes toward the Jews in the Ancient World (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998). Z. Yavetz, Judenfeindschaft in der Antike (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1997). BENJAMIN ISAAC

Related entries: Diet in Palestine; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Persecution, Religious; Sabbath.

Legal Texts (Qumran) Introduction.  Laws and legal texts hold a crucial place in the Hebrew Bible, especially in the form of various legal codes incorporated into the Pentateuch (Exod 20:22–23:33; Lev 17–26; and Deut 12–26). While legal issues also feature in the remainder of the Hebrew Bible—especially Ezra-Nehemiah—as well as in the New Testament, Jewish legal debate is most fully attested in the rabbinic corpus beginning with the compilation of the Mishnah ca. 200 ce. In the middle of the 20th century the discovery of just under a thousand documents that make up the Dead Sea Scrolls found in the vicinity of Khirbet Qumran has significantly enlarged the evidence base of Jewish legal literature from the Second Temple period. For the most part these Second Temple period legal texts belong to the Cave 4 texts that were published only recently. Moreover, the legal components of texts like the Cairo Damascus Document that have been in the scholarly domain for some time have not, until recently, received as much scholarly attention as have the accounts of the emergence and early history of a reform movement in the Admonition of the same document (Hempel 2000: 71–74). Recent decades have witnessed increased attention to a nuanced assessment of the Qumran legal texts. What follows deals with those texts from Qumran that have to do with the exposition and debate of Jewish law, not with compositions that lay down rules for the organization of a movement associated for a time with Khirbet Qumran. The latter kind of literature is often referred to as “Rule Texts” (Hempel 2018) and does, at times, occur side by side with legal exposition that does not refer to a particular movement (so esp. the Damascus Document CD/D and 4Q265 [Miscellaneous Rules]; cf. Hempel 2000). 428

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Key Texts.  The Damascus Document (CD) was first discovered between 1896 and 1897 in the form of two early medieval manuscripts (MSS CD A and B) in the storeroom of a synagogue in Old Cairo, the Cairo Genizah. The text was subsequently supplemented by ten ancient copies of the same composition from Qumran (D: 4Q266–273; 5Q12; 6Q15). While one of the medieval manuscripts from Cairo, CD manuscript A, contained a noteworthy amount of Jewish legal exposition, this was augmented significantly by the publication of eight ancient manuscripts of the same text from Qumran Cave 4. Among the extensive corpus of legal material preserved in the Damascus Document one reads, for instance, of the disqualification of certain categories of priests, a host of laws on ritual purity, agriculture, relations with gentiles, and a lengthy Sabbath code (see also 4QMiscellaneous Rules 6–7). The Temple Scroll (11Q19), first published in English in 1983 (original Hebrew 1977; see White Crawford 2000), presents itself as a first-person revelation by God to Moses. It comprises a retelling of material found in Exodus 34–Deuteronomy 23 with legal exposition on topics including the building of a large-scale temple complex, purity laws, and a festival calendar. In addition to 11Q19, up to four additional copies of the work have been identified (11Q20; 11Q21?; 4Q524; and 4Q365a?; see White Crawford 2000: 11–16). Six copies of a work known as 4QMMT (Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah, “Some of the Works of the Torah”) emerged from Qumran Cave 4. Despite an initial focus on a now disputed reference in the document’s epilogue to the emergence of a community and the text’s speculatively alleged author (the Teacher of Righteousness known from the Damascus Document and the pesharim, see Hempel 2010), the document’s expansive legal section is of particular note. Topics treated there include the red cow ritual, slaughter, liquid streams, tithes, and unsuitable marriages. Of particular interest is the presentation of legal debate for the first time in the form of legal discussion frequently identifying the positions advanced as “our opinion” or “we say” (‫אנחנו אומרים‬, ʾnḥnw ʾwmrym; Figure 4.64). The legal positions advocated in 4QMMT are largely at odds with what was to become the dominant rabbinic position on the issues discussed and are occasionally in line with the views attributed to the Sadducees in rabbinic sources. Scholars have drawn a number of conclusions from this picture, though a straightforward attribution of 4QMMT to Sadducean circles is almost certainly an oversimplification (for discussion see Schiffman 1996; Sussman 1994; and Noam 2018).

Figure 4.64 4QMMTc (4Q396) col. iv line 2 reading “we say” (‫אנחנו אומרים‬, ʾnḥnw ʾwmrym); second half of 1st century bce. Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi.

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In addition to these major witnesses, Qumran Cave 4 has also yielded a number of important smaller legal texts: 4QHalakah A and B; 4QṬohorot A-C; 4QPurification Liturgy; 4QHarvesting; 4QHalakah C; 4QOrdinancesa-c. Across all legal texts to have emerged from Qumran, laws relating to the preservation of ritual purity (Harrington 2004; Wassén 2018) and the Sabbath emerge as particularly extensively debated issues. Conclusion.  The most significant aspect of the contribution of the Dead Sea Scrolls to the development of Jewish law is the attestation of topics of legal debate in newly discovered Second Temple period sources that are also attested both in the New Testament and in rabbinic literature. John Collins has spoken of an “explosion of interest in halakic issues in Jewish texts of the Hasmonean period and later” (Collins 2012: 466). One can be certain that the new evidence among the Scrolls has revolutionized the understanding of the history of Jewish law. It is more difficult to be confident that the interests reflected in these texts first emerged emphatically only in the Hasmonean period or whether the “explosion” is based on the previously unknown evidence base that has now become available.

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “The Transformation of the Torah in Second Temple Judaism,” JSJ 43 (2012): 455–74. H. K. Harrington, The Purity Texts (London: T&T Clark, 2004). C. Hempel, The Damascus Texts (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000). C. Hempel, “The Context of 4QMMT and Comfortable Theories,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Texts and Context, STDJ 90 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 275–92. C. Hempel, “Rules,” CDSS (2018), 405–12. V. Noam, “Halakhah,” CDSS (2018), 393–401. L. H. Schiffman, “The Place of 4QMMT in the Corpus of Qumran Manuscripts,” in Reading 4QMMT: New Perspectives on Qumran Law and History, ed. J. Kampen and M. J. Bernstein, SBLSymS 2 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996), 81–98. C. Wassén, “Purity and Holiness,” CDSS (2018), 544–55. CHARLOTTE HEMPEL

Related entries: Calendars; Decalogue; Deuteronomy, Book of; Exodus, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Marriage and Divorce; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Nehemiah, Book of; Ordinances (4QOrdinances); Purification and Purity; Sages; Sinai, Mount.

Letter Writing During the Second Temple period Judeans/Jews participated in the epistolary cultures of the surrounding sociopolitical and religious world. Thus, the letters from the Judean military colony on the island of Elephantine in northern Nubia (Lindenberger 2003) share the formal characteristics of Imperial Aramaic epistolography in the Persian period. Longer letters and those dispatched over a greater distance were typically written on papyrus, while shorter messages of more ephemeral concern, sent by ferry across the Nile, were inscribed on potsherds (ostraca). From the beginning of the Hellenistic period, Greek, with variable speed, came to replace Aramaic as the main language of letters. The final two Imperial Aramaic letters extant from Egypt date from the 3rd century bce and contain a mixture of Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek names. The next

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firmly datable Aramaic letters were found at Masada and date from between 66 and 73 ce. While it has been suggested that the “gap” in Aramaic letter writing points to its reinvention under Greco-Roman influence (Schwiderski 2000: 305–22), there are reasons to assume that Aramaic epistolary culture survived in some form during the Hellenistic and Early Roman periods. Several letters preserved within larger literary documents date from, or received their final shape in, this period, such as those embedded in Dan 3–4 and 6, possibly Ezra 4–6 (Schwiderski 2000: 343–80) and 7 (Grätz 2004), further literary letters in the Dead Sea Scrolls (e.g. in 4Q203 [=4QEnGiantsa ar] 8 and 4Q550 [=4QJuifs à la cour perse ar] frag. 1), and letters that were translated from Aramaic (e.g. 2 Macc 1:1–10a). The “gap” for Hebrew letters is even more significant: after their demise with the end of the kingdom of Judah in the 6th century bce, documentary Hebrew letters reappear only during the Bar Kokhba war (132–135 ce) and are clearly influenced by Aramaic epistolography. Nevertheless, texts deploying features of epistolary treatises (such as 4QMMT; Doering 2012: 194–214) or serving as literary letters within a wider composition (such as the Epistle of Baruch, 2 Bar. 78–86; Henze 2011: 23–25, 350–71) could well have been composed in Hebrew throughout the Hellenistic-Roman period. Jews writing in Greek usually adopted the form of the Greek private letter, with the prescript following the form “[addressor] to [addressee] chairein (χαίρειν, be joyous),” and the final salutation consisting of “errōso (ἔρρωσο, be strong).” However, Jewish letters, particularly those in the literary tradition, show some distinctive features as well. First, some literary letters develop specific forms and contents in their opening and closing. As compared with the Greek health wish (formula valetudinis) at the beginning or end, some Jewish letter proems focus on God’s creation, God’s deeds on behalf of his people, God’s covenant faithfulness, or the concern for the addressees’ covenant maintenance and worship (2 Macc 1:2–5, 11, 17; 2 Bar. 78:3–7). A few specimens present the proem in the form of an epistolary eulogy, as in a letter from Souron (= Hiram) to Solomon in Eupolemus (cf. Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.34.1): “Blessed (be) God, who has created heaven and earth, who has chosen a kind person from a kind man” (cf. also 2 Macc 1:17). In the epilogues of some Jewish letters, salvation-historical topics might feature as well (2 Macc 2:17–18; cf. 4QMMT C 28b– 32). Second, while the standard Aramaic salutation in Hellenistic-Roman period letter prescripts is shelam (‫“ )שלם‬well-being (literally: peace),” in analogy to the Greek one-word greeting chairein (χαίρειν) “be joyous,” Aramaic literary letters begin to supply some variation and thereby recharge the wish semantically. Thus, Ezra 5:7 greets with “all well-being,” Daniel 3:31 and 6:26 (MT) have “may your well-being abound,” and 2 Baruch 78:2 wishes that “mercy and well-being be with you.” Significantly, Greek translations of such greetings render shelam (‫)שלם‬ literally as eirēnē (εἰρήνη) “peace,” which is not a common Greek word of epistolary salutation. In fact, wishing “peace” as a standard part of the prescript of a Greek letter was still perceived as striking even in the 3rd century, with Tertullian calling it a “Jewish custom” (Marc. 5.5.1). Third, the extant Jewish letters are often corporate letters, sent either by a group of addressors, or to a community, or both. They are deployed as means of establishing a network between Jews living at different places, reminding them of the unity of the people of God or calling them to a uniform practice. In all three respects, Jewish letter writing had an impact on the formation of Christian letter writing (Doering 2012: 377–497). Important specimens of such networking letters can be grouped under the heading of “diaspora letters,” i.e., letters addressing Jews resident in the diaspora. There are two subgroups.

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One consists of administrative-halakic letters, dealing with festival observance (2 Macc 1:1– 10a; 1:10b–2:18; Esther OG [a “Purim letter” according to Esther Add. F 11]), intercalation (Rn. Gamaliel [I or II?] according t. Sanh. 2:6; cf. tithing in letters to remote areas of the Land of Israel [Doering 2012: 377–497]), or miscellaneous matters such as the request to send back a certain public figure who has taken refuge in Alexandria (“From Jerusalem the Great to Alexandria the Small”; y. Ḥag. 2:2, 77d and parallels). The other group consists of letters ascribed to Jeremiah or his companion Baruch, modeled on Jeremiah’s letter in Jeremiah 29 [36]:1–23: the Epistle of Jeremiah (LXX), the letter in Targum Jonathan on Jeremiah 10:11, the Epistle of Baruch (2 Bar. 78–86), and the letters in 4 Baruch 6–7 (cf. 4Q389 [4QApocrJer Cd] frag. 1 with a reference to the “reading” of a piece, probably written by Jeremiah; Doering 2012: 190–94). Through the persona of Jeremiah or Baruch, both of whom witnessed the Babylonian exile, these letters provide orientation, consolation, and exhortation for Jews living in the diaspora and partly also for those perceiving themselves as living in a “protracted exile” within the Land of Israel. Overall, Jewish letters, though limited in number, provide important insights into how Judeans and Jews communicated in the Persian and Greco-Roman periods. Particularly significant are both the corporate nature of some of the letters and the contribution of Jewish specimens to the letter form, partly as a result of linguistic cross-fertilization between Aramaic or Hebrew and Greek idioms.

Bibliography L. Doering, Ancient Jewish Letters and the Beginning of Christian Epistolography, WUNT 298 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012). S. Grätz, Das Edikt des Artaxerxes: Eine Untersuchung zum religionspolitischen und historischen Umfeld von Esra 7,12–26, BZAW 337 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004). J. M. Lindenberger, Ancient Hebrew and Aramaic Letters, 2nd ed., SBLWAW 14 (Atlanta: SBL, 2003). LUTZ DOERING

Related entries: Aristeas, Letter of; Bar Kokhba Letters; Baruch, Second Book of; Epistle of Enoch (1 Enoch 92:1–5; 93:11–105:2); James, Epistle of; John, Letters of; Jude, Epistle of; Hebrews, Epistle to; Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters); Pauline Letters; Peter, Epistles of; Masada, Texts from; Names and Naming; Papyri; Revolt, Second Jewish.

Levi The Hebrew Bible connects the figure of Levi to the story of Israel in two primary ways. On the one hand, there is Levi the patriarch, third son of Jacob (Gen 29:34), whose most notable action is his involvement in the massacre at Shechem (Gen 34). On the other hand, Levi features prominently as the eponym of the Levites. While both aspects are still largely unconnected in the biblical texts, several writings from the Second Temple period establish a strong synthesis by making Levi’s elevation to priesthood an integral part of the Patriarch’s biography. At the same time, these texts claim that Levi was not only the eponym of the Levites but also the prototypical priest par excellence, from whom the entire Israelite priesthood (including priests and Levites) descends (cf. already Mal 2:4). The most extensive elaboration of the Levi tradition is attested in three texts from the Hellenistic period: the Book of Jubilees, the Aramaic Levi Document, and 432

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the Testament of Levi, which in its present form reflects the Christian adaptation of an earlier Jewish document. Jubilees 30–32 offers no less than four different explanations how Levi became a priest. According to Jubilees 30:18–20, Levi and his descendants were chosen for eternal priesthood because of Levi’s eagerness to carry out justice and revenge against Israel’s enemies, the Shechemites. This peculiar rationale is based on Exodus 32:25–29 and Numbers 25:7–13, where the Levites and Phineas are rewarded with a priestly office for executing the divine vengeance on apostates. Accordingly, Jubilees 30:18–20 claims that Levi’s elevation to priesthood was a reward for the part he played in wiping out the inhabitants of Shechem. Quite a different explanation is given in Jubilees 31:13–17. Here, Levi and his descendants are attributed their priestly role in the context of a blessing uttered by his grandfather Isaac. Remarkably, the Shechem incident is not mentioned at all. It is also absent from Jubilees 32:1 where Levi—apparently unaware of his grandfather’s blessing—dreams that he and his offspring had been eternally appointed as priests. Finally, the fourth explanation for Levi’s priestly career is again unrelated to the preceding ones: After the birth of his youngest son, Benjamin, Jacob counts backward the names of his twelve sons. He arrives at Levi as the tenth in the list and immediately ordains him as priest. Obviously, the unusual arithmetics reflect the rather forced attempt to portray Levi as a human tithe in order to justify his election for priesthood (cf. Num 3, 8, 18). As a result, Jubilees 30–32 provides a loose collection of different and, in part, contradictory traditions about Levi’s elevation to priesthood. However, there are reasons to believe that the dominant focus on Levi is not part of the earliest compositional stage of Jubilees 30–32. Jubilees 32:4–7, 27 imply that Jacob, like his fathers before him, was the acting priest of his generation, and it is only in Jubilees 45:16 that he passes on the ancestral writings to his son Levi. Therefore, one should consider the possibility that the Levi passages in Jubilees 30–32 were only introduced in the process of editorial reworking. In contrast to the literary evidence in Jubilees 30–32, the figure of Levi proves to be the focal point of the Aramaic Levi Document from its beginning. The text presents itself as the first-person speech of Levi, in which many of the motifs from Jubilees 30–32 recur. Aramaic Levi Document 1–3 provides an account of the Shechem incident (cf. Jub. 30:1–20), which culminates in a prayer stressing Levi’s piety. This is followed in Aramaic Levi Document 4 by a dream vision (cf. Jub. 32:1) in which Levi is anointed for the priesthood by seven heavenly beings. After a brief allusion to Isaac’s blessing in Aramaic Levi Document 5:1 (cf. Jub. 31:13–17), Aramaic Levi Document 5:2–6 narrates how Jacob ordains his son Levi, who then assumes the role of the officiating priest. Contrary to Jubilees 32:2–9, the protagonists’ roles are now clearly distinguished. Following Levi’s ordination, Aramaic Levi Document 6–10 gives a lengthy account of how Isaac instructed Levi on purity rules and sacrificial duties, before Aramaic Levi Document 11–12 provides an elaborate version of the priestly genealogy from Exodus 6:13–25, including Levi’s marriage with his wife Milka (cf. Jub. 34:20) and the names of his descendants that were born during his lifetime. In Aramaic Levi Document 13, the text concludes with a poetic exhortation of Levi’s sons to stay on the paths of wisdom and righteousness. Although much of the material from Aramaic Levi Document reappears in Testament of Levi, there are some decisive thematic shifts. Now, Levi’s role as a visionary gains more prominence (T. Levi 2–5; 8), and he is recast as a prophetic figure, who announces the decline of his priestly 433

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descendants and the ultimate failure of the Israelite priesthood, which will then be replaced by an eschatological high priest (T. Levi 10; 14–18). The early Christian recipients of Testament of Levi read this as an announcement of the coming of Christ and reworked the text accordingly. Testament of Levi’s sharp criticism of the priesthood distinguishes it from the rest of the collection of the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, in which the attitude toward Levi’s offspring is generally positive. Scattered throughout the testaments are various passages which emphasize the prominence of Levi and Judah as God’s chosen representatives of the priesthood and the monarchy, who will eventually play a central part in the eschatological salvation of all humankind (e.g. T. Reu. 6:7–10; T. Sim. 7:1–2; T. Iss. 5:7). In Jewish writings from the Greek-speaking diaspora, Levi’s role as the ancestor of the priesthood is far less prominent. Joseph and Aseneth portrays Levi as a wise and pious man with a prophetic gift. Together with his brother Simeon, he prevents a plot of Pharaoh’s son against Aseneth (Jos. Asen. 22). In the story (which bristles with allusions to Gen 34) Levi has no specific priestly function but rather represents the ideal Israelite. A purely secular perspective on Levi is also characteristic of the work of Theodotus. In his poetic retelling of the events from Genesis 34, Levi even appears subordinate to Simeon who, being the older brother, takes initiative against the Shechemites. While the two brothers’ involvement in the Shechem episode is also reflected in the work of Demetrius, the interest here is completely chronological in nature (see Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.21.8–9; cf. Jub. 30:1–6). Finally, when mentioned in the writings of Philo, Levi is either praised for his wisdom (Migr. 224) or interpreted as a symbol for the true service of God (Sacr. 119–20).

Bibliography J. L. Kugel, “Levi’s Elevation to the Priesthood in Second Temple Writings,” HTR 86 (1993): 1–64. J. C. VanderKam, “Jubilees’ Exegetical Creation Levi of Levi the Priest,” in From Revelation to Canon, 545–61. CHRISTOPH BERNER

Related entries: Demetrius the Chronographer; Genesis, Book of; Exodus, Book of; Genealogies; Jubilees, Book of; Numbers, Book of; Patriarchs, Testaments of the Twelve.

Leviathan Leviathan (Heb. ‫לויתן‬, lwytn) is usually imagined as the gigantic sea serpent-like monster, representing the chaos forces. The tradition is also attested in the Ugaritic Baal epic where it appears as “Ltn, twisting serpent.” The biblical narrative describes Yahweh’s triumph over Leviathan in primordial times: the heads of Leviathan were crushed by Yahweh (Ps 74:14). Because of the apocalyptic equivalence between Urzeit and Endzeit Leviathan was not only believed to be killed by Yahweh in the primeval time but was also expected to be punished in the future “on that day” (Isa 27:1). There was another tradition which pictured Leviathan not as a monstrous enemy of God but as a creature with which God was able to play (Job 40:29; Ps 104:26; Doak 2014: 103–232). In Second Temple literature (Mulder 2017) Leviathan appears in 1 Enoch 60:7–11, 24 as the female monster located at the bottom of the sea above the sources of the waters, together with

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the male monster Behemoth. A similar tradition is reflected in 4 Ezra 6:49–52, where there is a mention that the two great monsters, Leviathan and Behemoth, were created on the fifth day of creation (cf. also Pirqe Rabbi Eliezer 9). God assigned the water portions to Leviathan and the dry portions to Behemoth. According to 2 Baruch 29:4 both Leviathan and Behemoth will come out of the sea when the messianic kingdom appears, and the flesh of both will serve as the meal for the righteous during an eschatological feast. In the Apocalypse of Abraham (10:10–11) there is a unique reference to the “Leviathans” in the plural. The Ladder of Jacob 6:13 designates Leviathan as a “falcon,” though this may be the result of a confusion with the Greek word ἀκλαθόν (aklathon), in turn a transliteration of Hebrew ‫( עקרלתון‬ʿqrltwn), “crooked” (cf. Isa 27:1; Dekker 2017). The seven-headed dragon in Revelation 12:3–9 was probably influenced by notions of this figure (van de Kamp 2017). Origen identifies Leviathan with the “great fish” of Jonah and with the devil. Jerome (Hom. Matth. 30) identifies Leviathan as the dragon from paradise “that beguiled Adam and Eve.” According to b. Baba Batra 74b–75a, Leviathan will be hunted by Gabriel, who, however, will be unable to defeat the monster without the help of the “Holy One.”

Bibliography J. Dekker, “God and the Dragons in the Book of Isaiah,” in Playing with Leviathan (2017), 21–39. M. Mulder, “Leviathan on the Menu of the Messianic Meal. The Use of Various Images of Leviathan in Early Jewish Tradition,” in Playing with Leviathan (2017), 115–30. H. van de Kamp, “Leviathan and the Monsters in Revelation,” in Playing with Leviathan (2017), 167–75. ALEKSANDER R. MICHALAK

Related entries: Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Eschatology; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Job, Book of; Revelation, Book of.

Levites Foundational Sources.  In the Hebrew Bible Levites are primarily regarded as the descendants of Levi, most prominently Aaron, Moses, and Miriam. As a group, the “sons of Levi” first step onto the biblical stage in the golden calf incident, where they enforce punitive action against apostate Israelites and receive blessing as a result (Exod 32:25–29). After installation of the tabernacle, a two-tier hierarchy among the sons of Levi is introduced: only the Aaronide lineage qualifies for priesthood (e.g. Exod 35:19; 39:41; Lev 1:5, 7, 11; 6:22; Num 3:3, 32), while the term “Levites” more specifically designates the lower class of cultic personnel whose duties are extensively described in Numbers 1–10 (note their consecration in Num 8:5–26). A revolt against Moses and Aaron, led by the Levite Korah, constitutes the last attempt to claim priesthood for the Levites (Num 16–17), yet a miracle annihilates the rebels, which vindicates Moses and Aaron. Numbers 18 clarifies once more the Levites’ responsibilities and revenues, especially the tithe as compensation for the land allotment all other Israelite tribes receive (Frevel 2013). However, Numbers 35 introduces the concept of the Levitical cities distributed among the twelve tribes. The clear distinction between priests and Levites becomes blurred in the book of Deuteronomy, which features the peculiar formula “Levitical priests” (Deut 17:9, 18; 18:1; 24:8; 27:9). Although Deuteronomy extends the field of the Levites’ duties to include teaching and juridical functions

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(cf. Deut 17 and 27), it also lists the Levites as being among those who are needy (e.g. Deut 12:12, 14:29). The book of Joshua mainly regards the Levites as bearers of the ark and explicitly enumerates the 48 Levitical cities (Josh 21). Within the prophetic and the poetic books, Levites are virtually absent except for a few unspecific (e.g. Ps 135:20; Isa 66:21; Mal 2:4, 8, 3:3) or enigmatic references (e.g. Zech 12:13). Equally opaque—despite their prominence in scholarly literature— are the passages in Ezekiel 40–48, which seem to promote a Zadokite prerogative but disdain the remaining Levites (Samuel 2014: 364–78; MacDonald 2015). The book of Judges merely adds two shocking stories involving Levites (chs. 17–18 and 19). In the Second Temple account by Pseudo-Philo, the Levite’s host is depicted as a Levite himself (LAB 45:2). The books of Samuel and Kings show no pronounced interest in either the Levites in general or the Levitical descent of the priests in particular. The accusation against Jeroboam provides the exception; it claims that the—in any case illegitimate—priesthood he installs utilized those “from among the people who were not Levites” (1 Kgs 12:31, cf. 2 Chr 11:13–14; 13:9–10). Early Second Temple Tradition.  The above portrait in the books of Samuel and Kings stands in marked contrast to that of the monarchical period drawn by the Chronicler, when Levites participate in or hold responsibility for almost every major event in the history of Israel and Judah (cf., e.g., 2 Chr 15, 23; 2 Chr 29, 34–35 contra 2 Sam 6; 2 Kgs 11, 18, 22–23, respectively) even though their prime assignment within the book is of a musical nature (but cf. 1 Chr 9 for further tasks). The Chronicler’s focus on the Jerusalem Temple finds its clearest expression in 1 Chronicles 23–26, where King David installs a new order for the cultic personnel at the Temple to be built. As part of this new order, the officers and judges, gatekeepers, and singers should also be Levites (Kim 2014). Furthermore, important individuals of Israel’s biblical past like Samuel obtain a Levitical pedigree (1 Chr 6). Ezra-Nehemiah extends the Chronicler’s view into what is described as the era of Persian sovereignty (and cf. the diverse lists of Levites in Ezra 2; Neh 7, 10, 12). Whereas older research optimistically evaluated the historical significance of the biblical narrative(s) for the monarchic (esp. Deuteronomy) and even prestate periods (e.g. Judg 17–18), current research emphasizes the need to understand these texts (esp. Chronicles) in their respective contexts, i.e., mainly as retrojections of Second Temple period concepts, perhaps realities. In fact, Genesis 29 and Exodus 2 may remain the sole preexilic candidates referring to Levites with respect to Levi as their eponymous hero. By contrast, a Josianic date for the composition of large passages in Deuteronomy and Levitical involvement in a so-called Josianic reform (note no mention of Levites in 2 Kgs 23) are by far less certain than often assumed. All other texts and supplementations within the Pentateuch and the Former Prophets (e.g. Exod 4:14; 32:26–29; 1 Sam 6:15; 2 Sam 15:24) most likely date to the postexilic/(early) Second Temple period (the Septuagint lacks 1 Kgs 8:4b). Considering the main literary strands within the Pentateuch, one notes the silence of core Priestly (P) texts concerning the Levites: only later supplementations in Priestly style in Numbers (customarily designated Ps) significantly address the topic. A similar late Priestly influence emerges in several late supplementations and glosses to Deuteronomy. Given the contrast between the (late) Priestly and the classic Deuteronomic position, one can assume that the early postexilic period saw severe conflicts over the status of the Levites, the concrete nature and 436

Levites

main protagonists of which remain hidden behind the literary camouflage of the biblical texts (e.g. Num 16 and Judg 17–18) and their multiple redactions. Potentially younger compositions like Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah reflect, at best, faint traces of such controversies, as may, e.g., be the case with the stories about the Levites from Casiphia in Ezra 8 or the interrupted provisioning of the Levites in Nehemiah 13. Yet they generally seem to embrace the two-tier hierarchy of cult personnel (Schaper 2000: 226–68). The virtual omnipresence of Levites in Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah is therefore not necessarily an upgrading of their status at the expense of the priests. Later Second Temple Traditions.  The same description basically holds true for non-biblical Jewish writings from the later part of the Second Temple period, especially the Dead Sea Scrolls and fragments, most importantly, from the Rule of the Community, the War Scroll, and the Temple Scroll (Kugler 1998). For the most part, these texts presuppose the patterns put into place in the Pentateuch and the Former Prophets. The diverse new responsibilities that the Levites fulfill reveal exegetical—if sometimes boundary-stretching—derivations from those patterns (cf., e.g., the Levites’ role in the king’s law of 11Q19 lvii with Deut 17), and the Levites always remain in second rank to the priests. When writers from the Second Temple period resort to Levi (cf. Aramaic Levi Document) and his descendants, Qahat (4Q542) and Amram (4Q543–549), as central characters, they do so since this lineage represents priests and Levites. In his retelling of biblical history, Josephus, a priest himself, occasionally foregrounds the priests and downplays the role of Levites, especially compared to the Chronistic depiction. At the same time, he follows the Chronicler’s tendency to “Leviticize” individual characters connected to the cult (cf. also Bel 1:1). Noteworthy is also Josephus’ carefully adjusted rendering of the Deuteronomic law code insofar as he clearly separates Levites from priests. Finally, in an episode on the eve of the Jewish revolt against Rome (Ant. 20.216–218), Josephus blames the Levites for actions that contradicted the ancestral laws and thus contributed to the cause for Israel’s subsequent “punishment.” Nonetheless, characterization of Josephus’ work as containing an antiLevitical animus would be an exaggeration (Feldman 2006; Begg 2004). While the origins of the Levites remain unknown, there seems to have been a functional understanding of the term that initially neither excluded nor necessitated the possibility of genetic heritage. However, the sole genealogical conception of the lexeme “Levites” is doubtless a secondary development. Such transformation finally enables the detachment from functional obligations at the Jerusalem Temple (cf. Acts 4:36: Barnabas, a Levite from Cyprus; cf. Brooke 2005: 131) and thus the survival of the categories of priests and Levites after the Temple’s destruction, where they have certain halakic, mainly liturgical, importance to the present day.

Bibliography C. T. Begg, “The Levites in Josephus,” HUCA 75 (2004): 1–22. G. J. Brooke, “Levi and the Levites in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the New Testament,” The Dead Sea Scrolls and the New Testament. Essays in Mutual Illumination (London: SPCK 2005), 115–39. L. H. Feldman, “The Levites in Josephus,” Hen 28 (2006): 91–102.

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Literacy and Reading

C. Frevel, “Ending with the High Priest: The Hierarchy of Priests and Levites in the Book of Numbers,” in Torah and the Book of Numbers, ed. C. Frevel, T. Pola, and A. Schart, FAT II/62 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 138–63. Y. S. Kim, The Temple Administration and the Levites in Chronicles, CBQMS 51 (Washington: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2014). R. Kugler, “The Priesthood at Qumran: The Evidence of References to Levi and the Levites,” in The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. D. W. Parry and E. Ulrich, STDJ 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 465–79. N. MacDonald, Priestly Rule: Polemic and Biblical Interpretation in Ezekiel 44, BZAW 476 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015). S. L. McKenzie, 1–2 Chronicles, AOTC (Nashville: Abingdon, 2004). HARALD SAMUEL

Related entries: Amram, Visions of; Aramaic Levi Document; Chronicles, Books of; Deuteronomistic History; Deuteronomistic Theology; Deuteronomy, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Genealogies; Josephus, Writings of; Nehemiah, Book of; Numbers, Book of; Qahat, Testament of; Zadokites.

Literacy and Reading During Second Temple times Jews mainly communicated with each other orally; reading and writing were particular skills which only a small subsection of the population would have possessed. Writing letters, documents, and Torah scrolls was the prerogative of professional scribes, who were hired by sufficiently well-off people for these purposes. Those who were unable even to write their own names had to employ a ὑπογραφευς (hypographeus, a clerk who functions as a substitute writer) to sign documents on their behalf. In general, more people would have been able to read than to write, but reading required an education which would have been limited to professionals, religious functionaries, and wealthy people with sufficient leisure time. Reading material in the form of handwritten book scrolls was expensive and rare. Only the wealthy would have been able to afford scribes who could copy literary texts for them (Hezser 2001: 118–26, 474–88). For these reasons the majority of ancient Jews would have lacked direct access to texts. The contents of religious texts would have been known to them through the intermediacy of religious functionaries only, who would read portions of the Torah aloud in public settings and sometimes also interpret them. Other texts may have been read aloud in private circles only, serving the entertainment and edification of the wealthy educated strata of Jewish society. To the extent that they are representative, the Babatha and Salome Komaise papyri from the Judean Desert indicate the lack of rudimentary writing skills even among wealthy women of the upper strata of society. These women did not sign their documents themselves but made use of a hypographeus who signed on their behalf. The necessity of witnesses’ signatures on documents indicates the importance of the oral procedural contexts in which they were used. Documents and letters were usually written by professional scribes who used recurrent patterns and formulas and/or followed dictation. Individuals are likely to have used these paid services only if they had valuable property to transfer, secure, or claim in litigation. The Judean Desert papyri from Wadi Murabbaʿat and Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters) concern deposits and loans, marriage documents, and inheritance disputes, mostly written in Greek. Material evidence of letters in Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic is available almost exclusively from military contexts

438

Literacy and Reading

such as the Elephantine papyri from 5th-century bce Egypt and the Bar Kokhba letters from Roman Palestine. Besides hiring themselves out to private customers, scribes seem to have been attached to the Jerusalem Temple and to government officials, writing religious scrolls and official records, respectively. According to the account of the Gospels, scribes were located in Jerusalem and associated with the Temple priests (cf. Mark 3:22 and 7:1: scribes from Jerusalem; 8:31 and 10:33, 11:18, 11:27, 14:1, 14: 43, 15:1, 15:31: the chief priests and scribes). These scribes would have been among the Jews who were most familiar with the Torah texts, having direct access and being able to read them aloud and explain them to others. Those who possessed this ability could serve as mediators between their largely illiterate coreligionists and the scriptures of the Hebrew Bible seen as a divine heritage. It is probably for this reason that they are repeatedly mentioned alongside Pharisees as disputants with Jesus (cf. Mark 2:16, 7:5; Matt 12:38, 15:1). The majority of Jews would have had access to these texts through listening to public readings, lectures, and discussions only. Public Torah readings would have taken place at synagogues, which served as multifunctional buildings at that time. According to the so-called Theodotus inscription from 1st-century ce Jerusalem, the Theodotus family had built a synagogue “for reading the Torah and for teaching the commandments,” suggesting that reading and teaching the Torah in public were closely associated (see Millard 2001: 110). Torah-based discussions also would have been conducted in the open air. Like Greco-Roman intellectuals, Torah scholars may have been keen on exhibiting their knowledge in the street and marketplace, so that the less educated could overhear them and ask them for advice. Such public displays of intellectual authority could gain them students and followers. Since so few Jews would have been able to directly access and read the Hebrew Torah texts, those who possessed this competence would have been able to dominate the interpretation and application of the Torah in everyday life situations. Other Jewish religious texts, e.g. those written in Greek in Hellenistic times, may have been copied and read mostly in private, in the homes and friendship circles of wealthy Jewish families. Among wealthy diaspora Jews, Greek Jewish writings would have been read aloud and perhaps even enacted in front of a familiar audience for purposes of spiritual edification and after-dinner entertainment. Such audiences would have been familiar with some of the Greek literary and philosophical writings. They probably valued Greek Jewish literature as a fitting alternative, confirming their Jewish yet cosmopolitan identity. Philo of Alexandria, Paul of Tarsus, and Flavius Josephus are examples of highly literate Jewish scholars who combined Jewish and Greco-Roman learning to create works that presented the Jewish tradition in the wider intellectual contexts of their times.

Bibliography P. S. Alexander, “Literacy Among Jews in Second-Temple Palestine: Reflections on the Evidence from Qumran,” in Hamlet on a Hill: Semitic and Greek Studies Presented to Professor T. Muraoka on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday, ed. M. F. J. Baasten and W. Th. van Peursen (Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 3–24. C. Bakhos, “Orality and Writing,” OHDL (2010), 482–99.

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Logos

M. Bar-Ilan, “Illiteracy in the Land of Israel in the First Centuries C.E.,” in Essays in the Social Scientific Study of Judaism and Jewish Society, vol. 2, ed. S. Fishbane and S. Schoenfeld (Hoboken: KTAV 1992), 46–61. M. Goodman, “Texts, Scribes and Power in Roman Judea,” in Literacy and Power in the Ancient World, 99–108. W. Smelik, “The Languages of Roman Palestine,” OHDL (2010), 122–41. CATHERINE HEZSER

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Babatha Archive; Inscriptions; Jesus of Nazareth; Letter Writing; Oral Performance Texts; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practice; Writing.

Liturgical Works—see Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms (pt 4) Logos Logos is a transliteration of the very ancient Greek word λόγος, logos (attested from the archaic period onward), a noun cognate to the verb λέγω, legō, “to say, speak.” In ancient usage, therefore, λόγος often means “word, saying, speech,” but it also has a great number of equally common extended senses: computation, reckoning, relation, proportion, explanation, reason, account, narrative, principle, and subject matter, among others (see LSJ, s.v. λόγος). From Heraclitus (ca. 500 bce) onward, the term has particular currency in philosophy, although it is interpreted variously in the different schools (see Heinze 1872; Kelber 1958). For Plato (Timaeus), logos is a name for the rational order by which the universe, having been created by the demiurge, operates. Aristotle’s name (in the Metaphysics) for the divine intelligence that orders the world is nous, “mind,” and the activity thereof he sometimes calls logos. The most fully developed theory of logos is that of the Stoics, for whom it is the divine, active principle that organizes passive matter, thereby establishing and maintaining all that is. This Stoic logos is immanent throughout the universe and is closely associated with the terms “god” (theos) and “nature” (physis). Meanwhile, among Greek-speaking Jews in the Hellenistic period, λόγος was the standard Septuagint equivalency for biblical Hebrew ‫דבר‬, dbr, “word, thing, affair,” an important linguistic development, since the respective terms have rather different ranges of meaning. Given the currency of the term both in Scripture and in popular philosophy, then, it is unsurprising that Hellenistic Jewish writers working in the genres of wisdom and philosophy should develop their own theories of logos (see Walton 1911; Mack 1973). Aristobulus of Paneas attributes the creation of the world and its maintenance to the logos of God (apud Eusebius, Praep. ev. 8.9; 13.12). Wisdom of Solomon figures the logos of God, closely associated with sophia, “wisdom,” as the medium through which God acts in the world (Wis 9:1; 12:9; 16:12; 18:15, 22). Most famously and influentially, Philo of Alexandria explicates the logos in scriptural and Middle Platonist terms: the God of Abraham is utterly transcendent, but his logos (sometimes identified with wisdom) orders the cosmos, bestows reason (also logos) upon human souls, and enables those souls to ascend to the divine (see Wolfson 1948; Winston 1985; Runia 1986). Writing no more than a century after Philo, another Greek-speaking Jewish writer, the author of the Gospel of John, innovatively identifies the eternal divine logos with the Messiah,

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Longinus (On the Sublime)

who is also the person Jesus of Nazareth (John 1:1–14) (see Dodd 1968). In the wake of the Fourth Gospel, logos Christology became a major theme of early Christian reflection, already in Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, and Valentinian sources (e.g. Gospel of Truth, Tripartite Tractate), and on into the Christological controversies of the 4th and 5th centuries (see Boyarin 2004). Contemporaneously but independently, the late ancient Jews who produced the targums adopted the habit of using Aramaic ‫מימרא‬, mymrʾ, “word” (a rough equivalency for logos), in lieu of the divine name and also as a divine hypostasis (at least in a figurative sense), such that it is the mymr’, rather than God himself, that acts in the world. In short, for Jews as for Greeks, the idea of a divine logos proved a handy tool for solving a number of linguistic and philosophical problems.

Bibliography D. Boyarin, Border Lines (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968). M. Heinze, Die Lehre vom Logos in der griechischen Philosophie (Oldenburg: Schmidt, 1872). W. Kelber, Die Logoslehre von Heraklit bis Origenes (Stuttgart: Urachhaus, 1958). B. L. Mack, Logos und Sophia (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1973). F. E. Walton, Development of the Logos Doctrine in Greek and Hebrew Thought (Bristol: Wright, 1911). D. Winston, Logos and Mystical Theology in Philo of Alexandria (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1985). H. A. Wolfson, Philo, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1948). MATTHEW V. NOVENSON

Related entries: Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Targumim.

Longinus (On the Sublime) A famous Greek treatise on literary criticism, On the Sublime, takes a treatise on the same topic by a certain Caecilius, thought to be a Jew (see below), as its point of departure (1.1; Fyfe 1995: 160–61). The work is of uncertain authorship and date, but, in its earliest extant manuscript (10th cent.), it is attributed to a certain “Dionysius Longinus.” However, in the list of contents of this manuscript, the title reads, “Dionysius or Longinus.” Given this discrepancy, until the 19th century the work was usually attributed to the 3rd-century scholar and student of Plotinus, Cassius Longinus, rather than to the 1st-century historian Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Most scholars now think either that the attribution “Dionysius or Longinus” was wrong on both counts (thus the moniker “PseudoLonginus” is often used) or that the author was an otherwise unknown Dionysius Longinus. Most historians now place the work at the end of the 1st century (Rinaldi 1989: 198; Gager 1972: 56–63; 2007). Though about a third of On the Sublime is lost, a general overview is possible, and the author’s literary skill and eloquence are apparent. An instruction book for excellence in writing, it quotes or cites a wide range of authors. In book 9, the author teaches that sublime writing can only come from those who train their minds with sublime thoughts: “A grand style is the natural product of those whose ideas are weighty, … men of high spirit” (9.2–4). After several illustrative quotes from the Iliad dealing with gods, Longinus writes, “For also, the lawgiver of the Jews, no ordinary

441

Lubar, Mount

man (οὐχ ὁ τυχὼν ἀνήρ, ouch ho tuchōn anēr), having formed a worthy conception of divine power and given expression to it, writes at the very beginning of his laws: ‘God said’—what? ‘let there be light,’ and there was light, ‘let there be earth,’ and there was earth” (Fyfe 1995). This near-quotation of phrases from a Greek translation of Genesis 1:3–9, in which Moses comes highly commended, has been regarded as an interpolation, but most now agree to its authenticity and that it likely came from a secondary Jewish source, such as Caecilius of Calacte or Philo (Fyfe 1995: 190–91; Gager 2007). This quotation makes the work significant for the study of the dissemination and influence of Jewish literature during the Hellenistic period.

Bibliography W. H. Fyfe, Longinus on the Sublime, revised by D. Russell, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995). J. G. Gager, “Pseudo-Longinus,” Encyclopaedia Judaica, ed. M. Berenbaum and F. Skolnik, 2nd ed. (Detroit: Macmillan, 2007), 16:683. G. Rinaldi, Biblia Gentium (Roma: Libreria Sacre Scritture, 1989) JAMES E. BOWLEY

Related entries: Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Hellenism and Hellenization.

Lubar, Mount The unnamed peak in Ararat where Noah’s ark settles is called Mount Lubar in Jubilees, the Genesis Apocryphon (1QapGen xii 13), two other fragmentary Dead Sea documents (4Q244 8.3, 6Q8 26.1), and the medieval Sefer Asaf HaRofe (“Book of Asaph the Physician”). In Jubilees and the Genesis Apocryphon (as “one of the mountains of Ararat”), it is the site of Noah’s priestly sacrifice and atonement for the sins of the world (Jub. 6:1–4; 1QapGen x 13–17). The name “Mount Lubar” seems to be an Aramaic calque on “the mountain of the east” (Hebrew ‫הר הקדם‬, har ha-qedem; Steiner 1991), a place first mentioned in Genesis 10:30 and referenced in Jubilees 4:26 along with Eden, Sinai, and Zion as one of the “four places that belong to the Lord” (Geist and VanderKam 2012). “Lubar” probably derives from a secondary meaning of qedem (“ancient time”), since lubar means “old” in Aramaic (cf. Akkadian labīru; Steiner 1991: 248). Mount Lubar’s mention alongside Eden, Sinai, and Zion clearly implies its importance to some Second Temple Jews. It is the site of the first animal sacrifice and revelation from God, who established a covenant with Noah that is linked to Sinai and the Feast of Weeks (Jub. 6:1–22). Lubar thus belongs to four sacred locations in Shem’s blessed territory (cf. Jub. 8:17–21).

Bibliography A. Geist and J. C. VanderKam. “The Four Places that Belong to the Lord (Jubilees 4:26),” JSP 22 (2012): 146–62. R. Steiner, “The Mountains of Ararat, Mt. Lubar, and ‫הר הקדם‬,” JJS 42.2 (1991): 247–49. ANDREW GEIST

Related entries: Festivals and Holy Days; Garden of Eden—Paradise; Jubilees, Book of; Judgment; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sinai, Mount.

442

Lysimachus of Alexandria

Lysimachus of Alexandria Lysimachus, a Greco-Egyptian grammarian probably living toward the end of the 2nd century bce, wrote extensively on literary subjects. His ethnographic work on Egypt included an account of the Jewish exodus (Stern 1974: 1.382–88). This account, at absolute variance with the version of the Pentateuch, not only draws on previous sources similar to those used by Manetho but also displays details otherwise unknown. In the quotation preserved by Flavius Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.304–311), Lysimachus identifies the Jews with lepers and unclean people who took refuge in Egyptian temples. Then, since a dearth of food and a failure of the crops ensued throughout Egypt, the Egyptian King Bocchoris, advised by the oracle of the god Ammon, decided to purify the temples by drowning the lepers in the sea and sending the unclean people into the wilderness. Here Moses instructed them “to show goodwill to no man, to offer not the best but the worst advice, and to overthrow any temple and altars of the gods which they found.” Once they reached inhabited country, they “maltreated the population and plundered and set fire to the temples, until they came to the country now called Judea, where they built a city called Hierosyla [town of temple-robbers] because of their sacrilegious propensities.” Lysimachus’ account, which is considered by Josephus as the most hostile extant description of the Jewish people, may have been one of Tacitus’ sources on the origins of the Jews (Tacitus, Hist. 5.3.1) and prompted later literary polemical reactions by Jewish authors (Bar-Kochva 2010: 306–37).

Bibliography See General Bibliography MIRIAM BEN ZEEV

Related entries: Alexandria; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of.

Magdala (Taricheae) Magdala was a Jewish city or large town situated on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee, about 5 km north of Tiberias (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule [II] [103–63 bce]). The city reached its zenith during the early Roman period and was most likely founded as a Jewish municipality during the Hasmonean period (Zapara-Meza, Barriga, and Sanz-Rincón 2018), though there is archaeological evidence for an earlier settlement on the site (De Luca and Lena 2015; cf. Gorni and Najar 2013). While the southern area, excavated by Franciscan archaeologists, has yielded remains extending beyond the early Roman period, the vast majority of ceramic, glass, and numismatic finds in the northern area, excavated by the Israel Antiquities Authority and by a team led by archaeologists from the Universidad Anáhuac México, dates to the late Hellenistic and early Roman periods (ZapataMeza, Barriga, and Sanz-Rincón 2018). The Jewish settlement probably had an urban character during the late Second Temple period (Leibner 2009; Bauckham and De Luca 2015). In early rabbinic sources, this site was known as “Migdal Nunayya” (b. Pesaḥ. 46a) or simply “Magdala” (y. Maʿaś. 3:1, 50c; y. ʿErub. 4:3, 21d). It is commonly identified with Taricheae, which played a role in the Galilean theater of the First Jewish Revolt (Josephus, J.W. 2.595–613, 3.462–531; Life 126–144) and is mentioned by Pliny (Nat. 5.15) and Strabo (Geogr. 16.2.45). Although this identification occasionally has been challenged (Kokkinos 2010; Taylor 2014), 443

Magdala (Taricheae)

it is widely accepted. The name “Magdala” is derived from the Hebrew word migdal (‫)מגדל‬, meaning “tower.” The full form of the name, Migdal Nunayya, means “tower of fish,” which likely refers to a major facet of the city’s economy, which was fishery. This corresponds to the Greek name Taricheai (Ταριχέαι), derived from the Greek word for preserved fish (τάριχος, tarichos), and refers to factories for salting fish. Strabo mentions that Taricheae’s lake supplies fish excellent for preserving, which indicates that the city was well known in the Mediterranean world for its production of fish products (Geogr. 16.2.45). Lead weights for fishing nets have been found on the site (Zapata Meza 2012). It has been suggested that a number of plastered pools discovered in the course of the excavation may have been used in the fishing industry (cf. Gorni and Najar 2013; Bauckham and De Luca 2015), but chemical analysis has not revealed traces of fish in the pools. A synagogue dating to the first half of the 1st century ce has been discovered in the northern area of the city (Zangenberg 2010; Gorni and Najar 2013). A strong case has been made for the building’s identification as a synagogue based on its architecture (Binder 2014). The synagogue consists of a quadrilateral assembly hall with stepped benches along its four walls and a walkway partly paved with an incomplete mosaic, an adjoining smaller room with benches possibly used as a study hall, and a small room with a mosaic floor that may have served as a storage area. A carved limestone block featuring Jewish imagery including a menorah with a tripod base flanked by two amphorae was discovered in the central floor space of the meeting hall (Figure 4.65). The stone depicts architectural elements, such as columns on both the face and rear sides, and what is probably a series of archways on the sides. The rear of the stone also features two wheels or rosettes within a colonnaded archway. A rosette and other geometrical patterns are carved on its top. Although the function of the stone is uncertain, it is possible that the stone’s artwork depicts the Jerusalem Temple. The wheels may be related to the divine chariot throne described in Ezekiel 1 (Binder 2014; Aviam 2013). A similar stone carved from basalt featuring geometric patterns and items related to Greco-Roman dining was discovered in secondary usage in the late antique synagogue at Horvat Kur (Zangenberg et al. 2016). This raises the possibility that carved stones may have been common features of early synagogues, but the evidence is insufficient to make any clear judgments. A series of four miqvaʾot dated to the Second Temple period have been excavated approximately 50 m to the south of the synagogue (Reich and Zapata-Meza 2014; Figure 4.66). They are the

Figure 4.65  Magdala stone (replica). 444

Magdala (Taricheae)

Figure 4.66  Plan of northern sector of Magdala (west side).

first such baths to be discovered in the lake region of Galilee. They are also unique in that they are fed by groundwater. The miqvaʾot were found in two pairs, bordering a street. One pair is located on the south side of the street, near a room with a mosaic pavement depicting a rosette. The other pair is found just to the north of the same street. In the south of the city, a springhouse and a bath complex, featuring a mosaic depicting maritime themes and objects associated with exercise and bathing, have been uncovered (Bauckham and De Luca 2015). Josephus describes the conquest of Taricheae (Magdala) by Vespasian’s forces during the First Jewish Revolt (J.W. 3.462–531). This battle is noteworthy for involving ships on the Sea of Galilee. Although no clear evidence of a major destruction layer related to the battle has yet been found, the apparent abandonment of the northern area some time following the Second Temple period indicates a drastic population decline that may be related to the events of the First Revolt.

Bibliography M. Aviam, “The Decorated Stone from the Synagogue at Migdal: A Holistic Interpretation and a Glimpse into the Life of Galilean Jews at the Time of Jesus,” NovT 55.3 (2013): 205–20. R. Bauckham and S. De Luca, “Magdala As We Now Know It,” Early Christianity 6 (2015): 91–118. D. Binder, “The Mystery of the Magdala Stone,” in A City Set on a Hill: Essays in Honor of James F. Strange, ed. D. A. Warner and D. D. Binder (Fayetteville: Borderstone Press, 2014), 17–48. D. Gorni and A. Najar, “Migdal: Preliminary Report,” Hadashot 125 (2013): n.p. N. Kokkinos, “The Location of Taricheae: North or South of Tiberias?” PEQ 142.1 (2010): 7–23. U. Leibner, Settlement and History in Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Galilee: An Archaeological Survey of the Eastern Galilee, TSAJ 127 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). 445

Magic and Divination

R. Reich and M. Zapata-Meza, “A Preliminary Report on the Miqwaʾot of Migdal,” IEJ 64.1 (2014): 63–71. J. Taylor, “Missing Magdala and the Name of Mary ‘Magdalene’,” PEQ 145.3 (2014): 205–23. J. K. Zangenberg, “Archaeological News From the Galilee: Tiberias, Magdala, and Rural Galilee,” Early Christianity 1 (2010): 471–84. J. K. Zangenberg, S. Münger, R. Hakola, B. McCane, T. Rassalle, D. Kessi, Y. Shivti’el, J. Ballard, L. den Hertog, A. Berkheij-Dol, F. Neumann, P. Bes, and U. Tervahauta, “Horbat Kur, Kinneret Regional Project—2012, 2013,” Hadashot 128 (2016): n.p. M. Zapata-Meza, “Neue mexikanische Ausgrabungen in Magdala—Das ‘Magdala Archaeological Project’,” in  Bauern, Fischer Und Propheten: Galiläa Zur Zeit Jesu, ed. J. K. Zangenberg and J. Schröter (Darmstadt: Verlag Philipp von Zabern, 2012), 53–66. M. Zapata-Meza, A. Garza Diaz Barriga, and R. Sanz-Rincón, “The Magdala Archaeological Project (2010–2012): A Preliminary Report of the Excavations at Migdal,” ‘Atiqot 90 (2018): 83–125. JORDAN J. RYAN

Related entries: Agriculture; Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Josephus, Writings of; Mosaics; Pliny the Elder; Synagogues.

Magic and Divination Discussion of “magic” in Second Temple Judaism is complicated by the elusiveness of a clear definition for the term. “Magic” and related phenomena—such as divination, pharmacology, and miraculous healings—are also difficult to analyze as static concepts within Second Temple Judaism (Bohak 2008: 1–69; Stratton 2007: 1–18). Within the Hebrew Bible magical arts, magical-pharmacological healings, and divination are regularly treated as forbidden: the activities of pharaoh’s magicians (Exod 7–9), the emphasis on God as Israel’s exclusive physician (Exod 15:26), and various practices of magic, divination, and necromancy (Exod 22:17; Lev 19:25, 31; 20:6; Num 23:23; Deut 18:9–20; 2 Kgs 9:22; Isa 3:1–21; 47:8–15; Jer 28:9; Mic 3:5; cf. Nah 3:4), in particular Samuel’s involvement with the witch of En-Dor (1 Sam 28:3–25), are all condemned. Such passages strongly influenced views of these phenomena in Second Temple Judaism. The rejection of magic is illustrated in Jannes and Jambres, which retells the events in Exodus 7–9 from the perspective of two Egyptian magicians who are defeated by God’s agents Moses and Aaron. The fragmentary text informs the reader about the confrontation of Jannes with Moses and his brother, the defeat of Jannes (cf. Exod 9:11) after imitating the miracles of Moses by the use of magic, and his warning to his brother Jambres from the grave (Pietersma 2013: 1–2). Moreover, 2 Baruch 66:1–3 displays a rejection of magic, drawing on Josiah’s effort to remove magicians, enchanters, and necromancers from the land (2 Kgs 23:24; cf. Num 23:23; 1 Sam 28:3). Another clear example occurs in 1 Enoch 7–8, where certain practices connected with magic, such as magical medicine, the cutting of roots, incantations, astrology, and the knowledge of signs, are regarded as forbidden knowledge revealed by disobedient angels. Further, several early Jewish texts that focus on the activity of God imply a rejection of magic. One example is the Communal Prayer (Pap. Egerton 5, line 9–13), which emphasizes that healing the sick is God’s exclusive privilege (cf. also Exod 15:26; Isa 38:1–8; Tob 11:12–14; 12:3; Sir 38:9; or the Amidah). While certain texts are directed against the practice of magic, others display a surprisingly positive attitude toward pharmacology. For instance, Ben Sira 38:1–15 defends pharmacology, physicians, and the use of medicine as an expression of the divine world order and as part of God’s creation. In Tobit (Codex Sinaiticus) 6:1–9, 8:2–3, and 11:11–12, magical-pharmacological healing is permitted since it has been expressly transmitted by God through an angelic intermediary 446

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(in the text’s case, Raphael). Similarly, in the Book of Jubilees (esp. Jub. 10:7–14) the knowledge of healing and the preparation of medicine is taught by angels who act on God’s behalf. Positive evaluations of “magic” also occur within the context of exorcism. Consequently, texts depicting or teaching the exorcism of demons commonly lay claim to divine authority (e.g. 11Q11 v–vi; 4Q510–511; 4Q560; Pap. Fouad 203; Josephus, Ant. 8.42–49). These instances are accompanied by appropriate passages from the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Ps 91) or some clear indication of the demons’ subordination to God, and so imply a concern that “prohibited magic” be avoided. In LAB 60, however, David’s control of evil spirits by singing provides no such qualification and may take an even more positive position toward exorcism (Eshel 2003: 395–415; Fröhlich 2013: 45–46; van der Horst and Newman 2008: 127–33). Traces of “Jewish magic” may have been preserved in a variety of texts found in the “Greek Magical Papyri” (PGM), although Jewish authorship remains uncertain. For example, the so-called Prayer of Jacob (PGM XXIIb 1–26) contains a prayer to become a powerful, almost angel-like being. Other spells with numerous allusions to the Hebrew Bible (or in some cases other early Jewish writings) are attested (PGM IV.3007–3086, PGM VII.260–71 or DT 271), and sometimes Jewish concerns play a formative role in the context of pagan spells for healing and exorcisms within the PGM. Despite occasional evidence in favor of employing “magical” healing methods, most other magical phenomena are strictly prohibited in Second Temple writings. Such a rejection of magic and different forms of divination can be seen in some early Jewish parts of the Sibylline Oracles: Although Sibylline Oracles 1.93–96 refers to magic, medicine, star-gazing, and divining by birds in a listing of human knowledge, Sibylline Oracles 3.220–234 commends Jews for not getting involved with the course of sun and moon and things under the earth and in the depths of the ocean (referring to oracles), for not divining from sneezes, and for not dealing with augury, seers, magicians, soothsayers, the lies of ventriloquists, astrological predictions, and astronomy. Accordingly, magic and divination are not disapproved consistently throughout the Sibylline Oracles. The rejection of augury as a form of divination is also reflected in the well-known anecdote of the Jewish archer Mosollamus who shoots a bird thought by a seer to be helpful for divination (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.200–205). Although magic and divination are in many instances widely opposed in early Jewish literature, certain practices of divination are also on occasion positively evaluated. Astrology, for instance, is implicitly commended by being associated with significant figures from the Hebrew Bible who learn or teach it themselves (such as Abraham, Moses or Joseph) in the Treatise of Shem, Artapanus, or Pseudo-Eupolemus. Moreover, even without a connection to human biblical authorities, some divinatory arts are deemed accepted, as can be seen in certain writings from the Dead Sea Scrolls: 4Q318 reflects astrological and divinatory concerns, 4Q534 and 4Q561 may represent attempts to predict the future based on human physiognomic details, and 4Q186 combines motifs from astrology and physiognomy (Alexander 1997: 330–33; García Martínez 2002: 30–32; Popović 2007: 17–284).

Bibliography P. S. Alexander, “‘Wrestling against Wickedness in High Places’: Magic in the Worldview of the Qumran Community,” in  The Scrolls and the Scriptures. Qumran Fifty Years after, ed. S. E. Porter and C. A. Evans, JSPSup 26 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 318–37. 447

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E. Eshel, “Genres of Magical Texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Die Dämonen. Die Dämonologie der israelisch-jüdischen und frühchristlichen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt, ed. A. Lange, H. Lichtenberger and K. F. Diethard Römheld (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 395–415. F. García Martínez, “Magic in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Metamorphosis of Magic from Late Antiquity to the Early Modern Period, ed. J. N. Bremmer and J. R. Veenstra, Groningen Studies in Cultural Change 1 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 13–33. A. Pietersma, Jannes und Jambres, JSHRZ.NF II/4 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2013). K. B. Stratton, Naming the Witch: Magic, Ideology, and Stereotype in the Ancient World (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007). M. D. Swartz, Scholastic Magic. Ritual and Revelation in Early Jewish Mysticism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996). MATTHIAS REINHARD HOFFMANN

Related entries: Amulets; Astronomy and Astrology; Baruch, Second Book of; Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Demons and Exorcism; Healing; Magic Incantations and Bowls; Magical Papyri, Jewish; Medicine and Hygiene.

Magic Incantations and Bowls For the Second Temple period, historians of Jewish magic must contend with a relative paucity of “insider” primary sources, especially in comparison with the rich array of late antique magic bowls and amulets that have survived. One question that continues to prove controversial is the extent to which one can compensate for this paucity by extrapolating backward from the late antique sources to the Second Temple period (Bohak 2008: 136–39). Among the Dead Sea Scrolls, the following texts potentially provide primary insider evidence: 1QHa frag. 4 (for which, see Eshel 2003: 82–83), 4Q444 (4QIncantation; edited in Chazon 1999), 4Q510–4Q511 (4QSongs of the Sage; edited in Baillet 1982), 4Q560 (4QExorcism ar; edited in Naveh 1998 and Puech 2009), 5Q14 (5QCurses; edited in Milik 1962), 6Q18 (6QpapHymn; edited in Baillet 1962a), 8Q5 (8QHymn; edited in Baillet 1962b), and 11Q11 (11QApocryphal Psalms; edited in García Martínez, Tigchelaar, and van der Woude 1998). Esther Eshel distinguishes between apotropaic prayers and incantations, placing 1QHa frag. 4, 4QSongs of the Sage, 4QIncantation (which should be renamed along the lines of 4QApotropaic Prayer), and 6QpapHymn in the former group, and 4QExorcism ar, 8QHymn, and 11QApocryphal Psalms in the latter (Eshel 2003). 5QCurses is a very fragmentary Hebrew text, but may represent the distinct category of aggressive magic (for which, see Levene 2013). According to Bohak, 4QSongs of the Sage, a Hebrew hymnic composition, should be considered more liturgical than magical (Bohak 2008: 108). The apotropaic function of the hymns is clear, as noted by Chazon, on account of their “prophylactic function, as well as their form and content, including the citation of Psalm 91 and the naming of demons” (Chazon 1998: 263). 4QExorcism ar is a very small fragment of an Aramaic exorcistic text (Figure 4.67). Despite its poor state of preservation, it contains several elements that occur in the later Aramaic magic bowls, including demon types derived from the roots ‫( חלחל‬ḥlḥl) “to perforate” and ‫( פרך‬prk) “to break off” (Bohak 2008: 111). Furthermore, the phrase ‫( אומיתך רוחא‬ʾwmytk rwḥʾ) “I adjure you, O spirit” (4Q560 1 ii 6) compares well with the phrase ‫( אומית עלך‬ʾwmyt ʿlk) “I adjure you”, which recurs in the magic bowls (e.g. JBA 49:1, edited in Shaked, Ford, and Bhayro 2013: 221–22). 11QApocryphal Psalms contains a series of four Hebrew exorcistic psalms, including a version of the biblical Psalm 91—a text often used in later Jewish and Christian magic 448

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Figure 4.67  4Q560—4QExorcism ar containing adjurations against demonic beings (1st cent. bce). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

(see Bohak 2008: 108; Eshel 2003: 72–74). Puech has argued convincingly that the four hymns correspond to the four Davidic compositions to be played over those stricken by demons, which are mentioned in the list of David’s compositions at the end of the Great Psalms Scroll (11Q5 xxvii 2–11; see Puech 2000). Also convincing is Fröhlich’s suggestion that relates these hymns to the calendar, associating them with the four liminal days (the equinoxes and solstices; see Fröhlich 2013). The corpus of Aramaic magic bowls (late 5th to early 8th centuries ce) is probably the most important source for the study of the everyday beliefs and practices of the Jewish, Christian, Mandaean, Manichaean, Zoroastrian, and pagan communities of Sasanian Mesopotamia on the eve of the Islamic conquests. The bowls themselves are ordinary earthenware vessels, wheel spun but not glazed, inscribed with a personalized incantation that is often apotropaic or exorcistic in nature. They were apparently placed upside down in significant locations, such as the corners of rooms, and were meant to be read by the evil spirits against whom they were written (see Shaked 1997: 103–4; Juusola 1999: 4–7). The spells were written in a variety of Aramaic dialects that probably reflect the confessional community of the practitioners—chiefly, Jewish Aramaic, Syriac (both Manichaean and Christian), and Mandaic. Unlike the scribes, the clients are often named in the spell, which reveals a remarkable degree of interaction across confessional and gender boundaries (Shaked 1997: 104–6). For example, JBA 64 was written by a Jewish scribe for a Zoroastrian lady called Gista, daughter of Ifra-Hormiṣ, and concerns very personal matters—namely erotic dreams (edited in Shaked, Ford, and Bhayro 2013: 273–75). It contains elements that are clearly Jewish, such as the magical geṭ and the phrase “Amen, Amen, Selah, Hallelujah,” but it also contains non-Jewish elements. For instance, the reference to evil spirits who ‫( מן זיקא פרחין‬mn zyqʾ prḥyn) “fly by the wind” probably recalls ancient Mesopotamian traditions (e.g. itti imḫulli iziqqu “with the destructive wind they blow in”), while the phrase ‫( עיזיקתא דנורא חיא‬ʿyzyqtʾ dnwrʾ ḥyʾ) “signetring of living fire” may reflect Zoroastrian traditions (see Bhayro 2013: 191).

449

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The magic bowls are of interest for those engaged in the study of early Judaism for several reasons. First, they appear to reflect the remarkable persistence of the Enochic aetiology of evil spirits (e.g. 1 En. 15:8–12; 19:1; Jub. 10:8–14). This tradition was apparently very influential, even finding its way into a Syriac bowl that refers to ‫( ܥܝܙܩܬܗ ܕܫܡܚܝܙܐ‬ʿyzqth dšmḥyzʾ) “the signet-ring of Šemḥeza”, clearly a reference to the chief villainous angel of the Book of the Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36; see Bhayro 2015: 54–57). Second, the magic bowls can serve as an important link in the chain between magical texts discovered among the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Cairo Geniza. This has been ably demonstrated by Gideon Bohak in relation to the “Your face is the face of ” formula, which occurs in 11Q11 and T-S K1.123 and has now been identified in several magic bowls (e.g. MS 2053/7 and MS 2053/236; see Bohak 2012). Indeed, 11Q11 probably reflects a widespread and popular Jewish exorcistic tradition. This is suggested by the apparent summary of its twelve plagues, which are divided into groups of three, four, and five, by the phrase “the three of you, the four of you, the five of you” in several magic bowls (e.g. JBA 15:3–4; see Bhayro 2013: 193–94). Third, the bowl texts provide several examples of fragments of midrashic traditions and perhaps even lost midrashim, thus giving a glimpse into a mostly missing chapter of Jewish literary history. For example, Genesis Rabbah 50:2 refers to the missions of the three angels in Genesis 18–19: Michael informed Abraham of God’s intentions; Raphael delivered Lot; and Gabriel brought the catastrophe to Sodom. This is reflected in several magic bowls that refer to the “mighty fortified cities against which Nurael, Raphael, and Michael were sent” (e.g. JBA 7:12). In this reflection of the midrash, the destructive mission is assigned to Nurael rather than Gabriel—a pun on the city’s destruction by ‫( נורא‬nwrʾ) “fire” (see Bhayro 2015: 63–66). Finally, the bowls contain numerous quotations from the Hebrew Bible, as well as some from the targumim and even one from the Mishnah. Many of the biblical quotations are not attested in the Dead Sea Scrolls, thus making them the earliest known citations of those verses. As Peter Lanfer has observed, the bowls provide unique insight into the social location of the Hebrew Bible and the targumim in late antique Judaism, particularly in Mesopotamia (Lanfer 2015: 11). The same can be said for the Mishnah, given the quotation from m. Šeb. 4:13 in Moussaieff 164 (edited in Levene 2007).

Bibliography S. Bhayro, “The Reception of Mesopotamian and Early Jewish Traditions in the Aramaic Incantation Bowls,” AS 11 (2013): 187–96. S. Bhayro, “On Early Jewish Literature and the Aramaic Magic Bowls,” AS 13 (2015): 54–68. G. Bohak, “From Qumran to Cairo: The Lives and Times of a Jewish Exorcistic Formula (with an Appendix by Shaul Shaked),” in Ritual Healing: Magic, Ritual and Medical Therapy from Antiquity until the Early Modern Period, ed. I. Csepregi and C. Burnett (Firenze: Galluzzo, 2012), 31–52. E. G. Chazon, “Hymns and Prayers in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years (1998), 244–70. H. Juusola, Linguistic Peculiarities in the Aramaic Magic Bowl Texts, Studia Orientalia 86 (Helsinki: Finnish Oriental Society, 1999). P. T. Lanfer, “Why Biblical Scholars Should Study Aramaic Bowl Spells,” AS 13 (2015): 9–23. D. Levene, “‘If you appear as a pig’: Another Incantation Bowl (Moussaieff 164),” JSS 52 (2007): 59–70. D. Levene, Jewish Aramaic Curse Texts from Late-Antique Mesopotamia, Magical and Religious Literature of Late Antiquity 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). J. Naveh, “Fragments of an Aramaic Magic Book from Qumran,” IEJ 48 (1998): 252–61. 450

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É. Puech, “Les Psaumes davidiques du ritual d’exorcisme (11Q11),” in Sapiential, Liturgical and Poetical Texts from Qumran, ed. D. K. Falk, F. García Martínez, and E. M. Schuller (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 160–81. S. Shaked, “Popular Religion in Sasanian Babylonia,” JSAI 21 (1997): 103–17. S. Shaked, J. N. Ford, and S. Bhayro, Aramaic Bowl Spells. Jewish Babylonian Aramaic Bowls: Volume One, Magical and Religious Literature of Late Antiquity 1 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). SIAM BHAYRO

Related entries: Magical Papyri, Jewish; Demons and Exorcism; Magic and Divination; Psalms, Book of.

Magical Papyri, Jewish Introduction.  “Magical Papyri” generally refers to collections and corpora of texts from antiquity and late antiquity edited and translated by Preisendanz (repr. 1973–1974) or Betz (1992; PGM = Papyri Graecae Magicae; PDM = Papyri Demoticae Magicae). A comparable collection of lead tablets was edited by Audollent (1904; DT = Defixionum tabellae). However, a collection of Jewish magical papyri that focuses on Second Temple material does not exist (Bohak 2008: 165–179). Remotely comparable collections of Jewish magical texts, such as Sepher ha-Razim or certain texts from the Cairo Genizah (e.g. included in the Taylor-Schechter Genizah Collection) cannot simply be regarded as “Jewish magical papyri from the period of Second Temple Judaism,” since their late date and uncertain origin and authorship are problematic (Frenschkowski 2016: 144–46). Especially the manuscripts from the Cairo Genizah create a dilemma. Although their date and origin in the Middle Ages are certain, some of them contain significant parallels to much older magical texts: an exorcistic Genizah text T-S K 1.123, for instance, corresponds closely to part of an exorcism text from the Dead Sea Scrolls (11Q11 v 6–7: an address to a horned demon). Interpretation of Jewish Language and Motifs.  It is difficult to identify a Jewish origin for magical texts from collections such as the PGM, DT, or comparable corpora. For instance, Sepher ha-Razim (Morgan 1983) clearly quotes from the Hebrew Bible or alludes to narratives therein, such as its descriptions of God’s power and glory in terms of Isaiah 6:3, Ezekiel 1, or Psalm 91:1. Moreover, frequent exhortations in the spells to maintain purity (e.g. abstinence from certain food, alcohol, sexual intercourse, and contact with menstruating women or with the dead) recall biblical commandments (e.g. Lev 21:11; Ezek 18:6). Nevertheless, a Jewish origin of Sepher ha-Razim (Saar 2017: 23–24) remains doubtful, since its prohibitions regarding impurity seem to be randomly inserted and since its spells employ means and methods that violate them and, therefore, hardly originate from such a Jewish milieu (e.g. consumption of blood, sacrifices to idols, visiting execution places, or questioning the dead). Moreover, further elements in Sepher ha-Razim seem non-Jewish, such as invocations of Helios and an adjuration of a “ram bearer” (i.e. Hermes). In addition, some words and phrases seem to be translations from Greek Vorlagen and reflect a context and wording resembling the magical texts in PGM. Thus Sepher ha-Razim is best seen as a compilation of pagan spells embedded within a larger Jewish framework. Some spells from PGM provide grounds for assuming a Jewish background in their quotations of or allusions to content and significant figures from the Hebrew Bible (LiDonnici 2007): references to the God of the Hebrew Bible such as Iao, Adonai, and variations of the consonants YHWH occur frequently. Also, angels known from the Hebrew Bible and Second 451

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Temple literature are commonly addressed by name (Fauth 2014: 17–45). Especially prominent in this respect are Michael (e.g. PGM IV, 1–25; IV, 2373–2440; VII, 593–619; XIII, 734–1077; LXXIX, 1–7; LXXXIII, 1–20; cf. Kraus 2007: 611–27), Gabriel (e.g. PGM I, 302), or Raphael (PGM III, 210–215; CXXIII a–f), who are occasionally mentioned together (e.g. PGM III, 405; VII, 1017–26). However, in most of these instances God and the angels, not unlike the syncretism of Sepher ha-Razim, are invoked for assistance alongside pagan deities. While Jewish influence at some stage is clear, a Jewish (or perhaps even Christian) origin is questionable. Within PGM there are also numerous allusions and references to well-known figures from the Hebrew Bible: Moses, for instance, plays a significant role in PGM V, 96–172 (LiDonnici 2007: 99–102), PGM VII, 619–27 (the so-called “Crown of Moses”), PGM XIII, 1–343 and XIII, 343– 646 (the so-called “Eighth Book of Moses”), and PGM XIII, 734–1077 and PDM XIV, 1–92. The significance of Moses in magical texts associated with Judaism is further reflected in the so-called Sword of Moses (Gaster 1896), which displays major Jewish influence (references to the Hebrew Bible and the Amidah) as well as strong analogies (e.g. phrases like “come quickly,” references to “Abraksas,” or the phrase “Ssgn, son of Arggis,” which possibly translates the well-known formula “Seseggenbarpharagges”) to spells in PGM. Other biblical figures play a significant role in PGM texts: Solomon (Suarez de la Torre 2014: 254), for instance, is referred to not only in numerous incantation bowls and in the introduction to Sepher ha-Razim but also in PGM IV, 850–855; IV, 3039; XCII, 1–16; LXXXIII, 1–20, and DT 242. Nevertheless, in these texts strictly Jewish authorship can hardly be assumed, since they are dated rather late and may therefore also be Christian in origin (cf., e.g., the reference to Jesus in the so-called Exorcism of Pibechis, PGM IV, 3007–3086). In addition, magical texts referring to Solomon are either very unspecific or often syncretistic. The origin of connecting Solomon to magical contexts (esp. exorcisms) lies in Second Temple tradition, as amply displayed not only in Christian texts (e.g. the Testament of Solomon) or gems but also in Wisdom 7:17–21, an exorcism described by Josephus (Ant. 8.42–49) and an exorcism among the Dead Sea Scrolls (11Q11 ii 2; Torijano 2002: 41–105). Notably, references to Solomon as one who commands evil spirits are not only preserved in earlier magic writings (e.g. PGM IV, 3007–3086; DT 242), but are also found in magical texts until the 19th century. Problems with an identification of Jews as authors of texts in PGM also occur with spells that mention other figures from the Hebrew Bible. The patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob occur frequently (e.g. PGM IV, 1227–1264; VII, 311–316; XIII, 734–1077; XXXV, 1–42; LXXXIII, 1–20; DT 271). Less often other Hebrew Bible protagonists are referred to: Balaam (PGM XXXV, 1–42), Adam (PGM III, 165–186), Jeremiah (PGM IV, 3039–3040), or the people of Sodom and Gomorrah (PGM XXXVI, 295–311). Other spells simply refer to certain ideas and concepts found in Hebrew Bible narratives: the Trishagion (Isa 6:3; PGM LXXXIII, 1–20), the image of God sitting on the cherubim (PGM VII, 260–271; XLVII, 1–21; DT 241) or of God enthroned on heaven and earth (Isa 66:1; PGM LXXVII, 1–24). Similarly, the description of God as a healer (almost a paradox to Exod 15:26) can be found in PGM XCIX, 1–3. Much more frequent are references to God as creator (e.g. PGM IV, 3007–3086; V, 459–489; VII, 260– 271), which are strongly influenced by Jewish ideas despite employing magical words, since the text strongly emphasizes God being the creator of all things (Betz 1997). In all such instances Jewish authorship cannot be proven due to their late date (indicating the possibility of Christian influence) and to their highly syncretistic nature. 452

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Many allusions to content of the Hebrew Bible combine with limited syncretistic elements in only a few magical writings. An interesting compilation of Jewish traditions within the framework of a (necromantic) adjuration of the spirit of a dead person is found in a lead tablet (DT 271; cf. Blau repr. 1974: 97–112; Saar 2017: 45). Although a defixio (curse) and not containing invocations for help from chthonic deities (a common feature for such a text), the language often focuses on God, such as in the names Iao, Aoth, Abaoth, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and in allusions to God’s ineffable name (cf. Lev 24:16). The text stresses God’s significance by addressing him as creator, savior during the events of the Exodus (Exod 14:16), rescuer of Daniel from the lions’ den, or as the one who separated the impious from the pious (Num 16:21; Sir 33:11–16). Even the formulation of DT 271 is reminiscent of widespread Second Temple Jewish prayers, such as Prayer of Mannaseh or 2 Maccabees 1:24–29. A similarly impressive amount of allusions to the Hebrew Bible can be found in the so-called Exorcism of Pibechis (PGM IV, 3007–3086). The exorcism recalls inimitable deeds of God, such as his appearance in the fire (Exod 3:2); his role as creator (Gen 1); his aid during the exodus events (Exod 7–12; 13:21–22) and the partings of the Red Sea (Exod 14) and the Jordan (Josh 3); and the creation of languages (Gen 11). The exorcism also alludes to the “Seal of Solomon” (cf. Josephus, Ant. 8.42–49; T. Sol. 1:6). The reference to the punishment of the giants and the destruction of their tower (PGM IV, 3058) most likely depends on the early Jewish writing of Pseudo-Eupolemus (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.17.2). The evidence favoring an identification of the exorcism as an early Jewish text is not clear-cut. The reference to Jesus as God of the Hebrews within (3019; cf. similarly DT 242), the spelling of Israel (as “Osrael” in 3033), and the explanation of the exorcism as “Hebrew” (3084–3086) cast doubt on a strictly Jewish provenance. Furthermore, the text’s emphasis on purity and the abstinence from pork (3078–3086) seems to have been added to the exorcism in order to make it appear more Jewish (comparable to similar references in the Sepher ha-Razim or the Sword of Moses). Since some elements within the exorcism hardly fit a pious Jewish setting, the otherwise massive amount of Jewish content suggests that PGM IV, 3007–3086 is a compilation of Jewish prayer-like formulas that have been altered over time and, for that reason, display inconsistencies. The so-called Prayer of Jacob (PGM XXIIb, 1–26), which is occasionally even ranked among apocryphal writings, also contains many Jewish elements, such as references to God as creator, his interaction with Abraham (Gen 15; 22), and his appearance in the burning bush (Exod 3). The reference to the name of Jacob and the desire of the writer himself to turn into a powerful angellike being also correlates with ideas preserved in the Ladder of Jacob 4 (Jacob is named Israel in accordance with angelic names) and the Prayer of Joseph (frag. A) describing Jacob as an earthly angel. The prayer, directed exclusively to God and without traces of syncretism, is Jewish. Conclusion.  In general, however, the various magical writings containing Jewish traditions raise the question whether they represent magical texts which have been worked over in order to make them appear Jewish or if they represent once-Jewish texts which have been altered into magical texts. The relatively small amount of Jewish elements in the magical papyri and lead tablets related to Second Temple Jewish tradition could be explained on the basis of texts in the Hebrew Bible and early Jewish writings that reject magic (Dolansky 2008: 37–55). Most of those texts that do contain traces of early Jewish tradition display an interest in healing diseases and warding off or exorcising demons and evil spirits. Next to countless apotropaic 453

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Jewish amulets, this tendency can be observed in some early Jewish prayers and writings among the Dead Sea Scrolls: for instance, in the Prayer for Protection against Unclean Spirits (Pap. Fouad 203; van der Horst and Newman 2008: 123–133) and the texts of 4Q510–511, 4Q560, and 11Q11. These relatively few exorcisms (PGM IV, 1227–1264; IV, 3007–3086; V, 96–172; CXIV, 1–14) are strongly reminiscent of Jewish or Christian tradition. Although Jewish authorship is highly questionable for many of these magical writings, they nevertheless show that forms of Jewish knowledge and techniques known to be Jewish from the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple writings, especially as they relate to the context of exorcism, were held in high regard.

Bibliography A. Audollent, Defixionum tabellae quotquot innotuerunt tam in Graecis Orientis quam in totius Occidenti partibus praeter Atticas in Corpore Inscriptionum Atticarum editas (Paris: A. Fontemoing, 1904). H. D. Betz, ed., The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation, Including the Demotic Spells, 2nd ed. (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1992). H. D. Betz, “Jewish Magic in the Greek Magical Papyri (PGM VII.260–271),” in Envisioning Magic: A Princeton Seminar and Symposium, ed. P. Schäfer and H. G. Kippenberg (Leiden; Brill, 1997), 45–63. L. Blau, Das altjüdische Zauberwesen (Graz: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt, 1974, repr. 1898). S. Dolansky, Now You See It, Now You Don’t. Biblical Perspectives on the Relationship between Magic and Religion (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2008). M. Frenschkowski, Magie im antiken Christentum. Eine Studie zur Alten Kirche und ihrem Umfeld, Standorte in Antike und Christentum 7 (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 2016). W. Fauth, Jao-Jahwe und seine Engel. Jahwe-Appellationen und zugehörige Engelnamen in griechischen und koptischen Zaubertexten, STAC 74 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). M. Gaster, The Sword of Moses. An Ancient Book of Magic from a Unique Manuscript (London: D. Nutt, 1896). T. J. Kraus, “Angels in the Magical Papyri—The Classic Example of Michael, the Archangel,” in Angels. The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception. Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature. Yearbook 2007, ed. F. V. Reiterer, T. Nicklas, and K. Schöpflin (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007), 611–27. L. LiDonnici, “‘According to the Jews’: Identified (and Identifying) ‘Jewish’ Elements in the Greek Magical Papyri,” in Heavenly Tablets: Interpretation, Identity and Tradition in Ancient Judaism, ed. L. LiDonnici and A. Lieber (Brill: Leiden, 2007), 87–108. M. Margolioth, ed., Sepher ha-Razim. A Newly Recovered Book of Magic from the Talmudic Period, Collected from Genizah Fragments and Other Sources (Jerusalem: American Academy for Jewish Research, 1966) (Hebrew). M. A. Morgan, Sepher Ha-Razim. The Book of Mysteries, SBLTT 25, PS 11 (Chico: Scholars Press, 1983). K. Preisendanz, ed., Papyri Graecae Magicae. Die Griechischen Zauberpapyri I and II, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1972–1974). O.-P. Saar, Jewish Love Magic. From Late Antiquity to the Middle Ages, Magical and Religious Literature of Late Antiquity 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2017). E. Suarez de la Torre, “Pseudepigraphy and Magic,” in Fakes and Forgers of Classical Literature. Ergo Decipiatur! ed. J. Martínez (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 243–62. MATTHIAS REINHARD HOFFMANN

Related entries: Jesus of Nazareth; Magic Incantations and Bowls; Magic and Divination.

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Mara bar Serapion Mara bar Serapion was a “pagan” upper-class author from Commagene who had received a Greek education and became a prisoner of the Romans after they had captured Samosata, very probably during the 70s of the 1st century ce (Ramelli 2008: 2555–98; Merz and Tieleman 2008). Mara’s Letter to His Son, which is preserved in a very archaic form of Syriac, treats topics akin to biblical wisdom literature and issues relating to Stoic ethics. The letter also contains themes that appear again in Bardaisan of Edessa (154–222 ce) and later in Aphrahat (4th century ce; Ramelli 2015). The work was especially interesting for Christian authors because it includes a mention of Jesus Christ, unnamed but called “the wise king of the Jews,” within a list of Greek philosophers (Socrates, Pythagoras) as an example of philosophers unjustly persecuted but later rewarded by God. There is much scholarly debate about the date of Mara’s letter. Although the dating of it to the late 1st century ce is probable on historical, linguistic, and philosophical grounds, some scholars assign it to the 4th century ce (McVey 1990) or deem the letter a rhetorical exercise (Chin 2006). Another point of divergence is how to interpret Mara’s reference to the Jewish king and to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce. Mara states that “the wise king of the Jews” was killed by them, but “is not dead, thanks to the new laws promulgated by him.” His killers—Mara uses a generalization also applied to the Athenians who killed Socrates (Ramelli forthcoming)— were deprived of their kingdom and dispersed everywhere. The debated Testimonium Flavianum (Josephus, Ant. 18.63–64) describes Jesus in the same way, i.e., as a “wise man” who was put to death by the leaders of his people, but who still lives in those who love him and claim to have seen him after his resurrection.

Bibliography C. Chin, “Rhetorical Practice in the Chreia Elaboration of Mara bar Serapion,” Hugoye 9.2 (2006): 1–23. K. McVey, “A Fresh Look at the Letter of Mara bar Sarapion,” in V Symposium Syriacum, ed. R. Lavenant, OCA 236 (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Orientalium Studiorum, 1990), 257–72. A. Merz and T. Tieleman, “The Letter of Mara bar Sarapion,” in Empsychoi Logoi, ed. A. de Jong, A. Houtman, and M. Misset-Van de Weg, AJEC 73 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 107–33. I. Ramelli, “Mara Bar Sarapion’s Letter: Comments on the Syriac Edition, Translation, and Notes by David Rensberger,” in The Letter of Mara bar Sarapion in Context, ed. A. Merz and T. Tieleman, CHANE 58 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 205–31. I. Ramelli, “Revisiting Aphrahat’s Sources: Beyond Scripture?” Parole de l’Orient 41 (2015): 367–97. I. Ramelli, “Stoicizing Theories of Disasters in the Letter of Mara Bar Serapion,” lecture at the Conference, Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity (Claremont, March 2019, forthcoming). ILARIA RAMELLI

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of.

Maresha (Marisê) Maresha is a city in Judea’s southern Shephelah (e.g. 2 Chr 11:8; cf. Josh 15:44) with connections in the Second Temple period to the Maccabean revolt (1 Macc 5:66; 2 Macc 12:35). Robinson’s identification of it with Tell Sandaḥannah, located some 40 km southwest of Jerusalem (Robinson 1841: 2.422–23), is confirmed by a tomb inscription discovered near the tel. The inscription mentions

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a community of “the Sidonians in Marisê” while offering testimony for the local Greek spelling of the city’s name. In the Zenon papyri (259 bce), where this spelling is also attested (PCZ 1.59006 line 64; 59015, verso line 16; 4.59537 line 4), Marisê is placed in Idumea, i.e., where Idumeans settled after Jerusalem’s fall in 587/6 bce (see Map 6: Maccabean Revolt [167–160 bce]). The Site. Tell Sandaḥannah, Maresha’s upper city (acropolis), excavated in 1900, yields a “Jewish” stratum topped by two Hellenistic levels. Two walls surround the tel, the inner one of which dates from the 3rd century bce and was probably in use until the Hasmonean occupation. The Hellenistic upper city’s plan is a gridiron street pattern that divided it into northern and southern quarters. This pattern, though often ascribed to Hippodamos of Miletos (ca. 498–408 bce), is observed in Israelite cities built prior to the Hellenistic age. Therefore, Marisê’s town plan is not necessarily influenced by Greek architectural fashions (Horowitz 1980). Maresha’s lower city was built around the mound and may have been protected by a wall (Kloner 2003: 18–19). Residential areas above ground were typically constructed around a central court with a spiral staircase leading to a second story. Hundreds of subterranean complexes of various sizes were found as well, many of which were connected to the buildings above. The underground spaces served many purposes, with some merely the byproduct of the quarrying operations designed to obtain building material. Other spaces were used for specific purposes such as water cisterns, columbaria, and oil presses. Some subterranean spaces served as mikva’ot for ritual cleanliness, while several rooms were reserved for cultic activity. Tombs.  The mound and the lower city are surrounded by cemeteries to the southwest, north, and east. Tombs I and II of the eastern necropolis were quarried from the limestone, hewn along two axes, like the letter “T,” with the entrance placed at the two axes’ meeting point. The lateral axis consists of three small rooms, while the longer axis has a main burial hall and a small recess leading to several burial cubicles. The burial halls and some of the side rooms had gabled niches or loculi in which the dead were laid. In the right burial cubicle of Tomb I a Greek funerary inscription (ca. 225–160 bce) was found honoring Apollophanes son of Sesmaios who served as archon of “the Sidonians in Marisê.” Tombs I–II became widely known for their numerous colorful murals which date from the 3rd or 2nd century bce (Peters and Thiersch 1905; Jacobson 2007). These had faded completely shortly after their discovery. The later reconstruction of these murals, executed in the caves of the original find, rests unfortunately on the plates that accompanied the original publication (Peters and Thiersch 1905). As is now known, these plates were inaccurately produced, and while details relating to form can now be ascertained thanks to the original bi-chrome photographs now published (Jacobson 2007), questions relating to shade and coloring are perhaps impossible to answer. The best preserved of these, found in Tomb I, display two painted roosters flanking the doorway to the main burial hall. A three-headed mythical dog is painted nearby, watching the entrance to the world of the dead, the Kerberos. The main hall is adorned with a frieze depicting a scene in which a man on horseback has pierced a leopardess with an arrow. The hunting scene is captioned by a painted Greek inscription: “horse of Libanos of Tyre.” Other animals are depicted in the frieze, including a lion, bull, snake, giraffe, hippopotamus, rhinoceros, boar, and a mythical griffin. An elephant is being fed by a man whose forearm is black and seems to be wearing a robe and carrying an axe. The caption “elephant” was painted above the beast, while the title “Ethiopia” was written above the man. Obviously, this dark-skinned African represents his country. 456

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Painted at the back of the burial hall was a three-legged round table with lion’s paws on which stood a three-legged incense-burner, with feet similar to those of a griffin. The paintings of Tomb II were, in general, found to be in worse condition than those of Tomb I. The eastern end of the burial hall of Tomb II is decorated with two tall candelabra, recalling the incense-burners from Tomb I. Other paintings depict a vessel, probably an incense-burner, and a libation scene similar to that of Tomb I’s burial hall. Another painting depicts a man holding a double flute followed by a young woman playing a portable harp. Tombs I–II, as well as other surveyed underground burial spaces, are also important because of the Greek funerary inscriptions found in them. In addition to Apollophanes son of Sesmaios and “the Sidonians in Marisê” inscription, other inscriptions record the deaths of men and women carrying Greek, Phoenician, Idumean, Arab, Semitic, and even Egyptian names (Kloner et al. 2010). The variety attests to the multiethnic composition of the local population. Though a few names seem to be Hebrew, it is likely that they were common to both Idumeans and Jews, so that there is no indisputable evidence that Jews were buried in Maresha’s underground cemeteries. Inscriptional Records. Among the inscriptions (Eshel 2014), the earliest written record from Maresha may be a Hebrew ostracon dated to the 7th century bce (Subterranean Complex=SC 147). A further 21 Aramaic ostraca from Maresha date to the fourteenth year of Artaxerxes III (344 bce). Coins from Marisê’s acropolis are from the Ptolemiac, Seleucid, and Hasmonean periods. Ptolemaic presence in the acropolis is further attested by an inscription honoring Arsinoe III (r. 217–204 bce). The next period is represented by an Aramaic marriage contract (SC 84) dated to Seleucus IV and to year 136 of the Seleucid era (=SE, i.e., 176 bce). Also from this era (ca. 178 bce) is a Greek dossier inscribed on stone, which consists of a letter from the king addressed to his prime minister Heliodoros (Figure 4.68), and two later epistles, meant to insure compliance with the king’s command by lower officials. The royal letter’s surviving parts clarify Seleucus’ intention to reform the administration of the temples in Coele-Syria and Phoenicia and to appoint a certain Olympiodoros to oversee them, presumably as the satrapy’s high priest. Seleucus’ goal in this reform is still debated (Cotton and Wörrle 2007; Gera 2009), but it is thought that he aimed at tightening control over the satrapy’s temples while exacting money from them in order to pay the outstanding sum still owed to Rome since the Apamea accord. It would also seem that the famous Heliodoros scene (2 Macc 4), describing his attempt to despoil the Jerusalem Temple, is a fanciful rendition mirroring Olympiodoros’ clash with the Jerusalem high priest. A small fragment of a second copy of the king’s letter was found in the 1950s on top of Maresha’s acropolis. Thus, Marisê is the home of two copies of the same royal letter, a unique situation not otherwise attested for Greek royal inscriptions, which suggests that Marisê was an important administrative center for the Seleucids. It is difficult to know precisely when to date the end of the occupation of Maresha. The latest extant dates, given according to the non-Jewish Seleucid era reckoning (SE) are (a) a juglet of 25 silver coins buried beneath the floor of Area 53 and dated to 200 SE (113/112 bce) at the latest and (b) five lead weights from Maresha are dated to 205 SE (108/107). The date of the coins comes close to the time when Josephus states Marisê was conquered by John Hyrcanus I (J.W. 1.63; Ant. 13.257). However, the later lead weights raise questions: they could suggest that Hyrcanus’ control of the site was interrupted for a short period of time or, as is likely, they are not to be interpreted in relation to Maresha’s political status under the Hasmoneans (Finkielsztejn 1998). Since the site was unoccupied toward the end of the 2nd century, and since there is no evidence of violence or destruction, it seems Maresha was simply abandoned (Kloner 2008). Thus, Maresha 457

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Figure 4.68  Heliodorus inscription: Transcription of correspondence in Greek between Seleucus IV and Heliodorus (178 bce).

may have received John Hyrcanus peacefully, with the inhabitants leaving the city within a few years, in 108/107 bce or later. Though no remains of a Hasmonean settlement have been identified at Maresha, the discovery of 25 coins of John Hyrcanus I found on the acropolis suggests that a Jewish garrison did stay there. According to Josephus, Aulus Gabinius, a Roman governor of Syria, sought to repopulate Marisê in the wake of Pompey’s grant of freedom (J.W. 1.156–157, 165–166; Ant. 14.75, 87–88). Marisê was thus refounded as a polis and received the benefactions from Gabinius (57 bce). That same year Marisê began to mint its own coins while adding a new component to its name, Gabinia, in honor of the governor (Qedar 1992–1993; Gitler and KushnirStein 2004). The precise location of Marisê’s refoundation is uncertain; in any case, it was shortlived due to its destruction by the Parthians in 40 bce (Josephus, J.W. 1.269; Ant. 14.364).

Bibliography A. Erlich and A. Kloner, Maresha Excavations Final Report II: Hellenistic Terracotta Figurines from the 1989–1996 Seasons, IAA Reports 35 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2008).

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E. Eshel, “Iron Age, Phoenician, and Aramaic Inscriptions,” in The Excavations of Maresha Subterranean Complex 57: The ‘Heliodorus’ Cave, ed. I. Stern, BAR International Series 2652 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2014), 77–94. E. Eshel and A. Kloner, “An Aramaic Ostracon of an Edomite Marriage Contract from Maresha, Dated 176 B.C.E,” IEJ 46 (1996): 1–22. G. Finkielsztejn, “More Evidence on John Hyrcanus I’s Conquests: Lead Weights and Rhodian Amphora Stamps,” Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 16 (1998): 33–63. H. Gitler and A. Kushnir-Stein, “A New Date on Coins of Marisa in Idumaea and Its Historical Implications,” Revue Suisse de Numismatique 83 (2004): 87–95. G. Horowitz, “Town Planning of Hellenistic Marisa: A Reappraisal of the Excavations after Eighty Years,” PEQ 112 (1980): 93–111. D. M. Jacobson, The Hellenistic Paintings of Marisa (Leeds: Maney, 2007). A. Kloner et al., Maresha Excavations Final Report I: Subterranean Complexes 21, 44, 70, IAA Reports 17 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2003). A. Kloner, “Mareshah (Marisa),” NEAEHL (2008), 5:1918–25. A. Kloner, E. Eshel, H. B. Korzavoka, and G. Finkielsztejn, Maresha Excavations Final Report III: Epigraphic Finds from the 1989–2000 Seasons IAA Reports 45 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010). J. P. Peters and H. Thiersch, Painted Tombs in the Necropolis of Marissa (Marêshah) (London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1905). Sh. Qedar, “The Coins of Marisa: A New Mint,” INJ 12 (1992–1993): 27–33. E. Robinson, Biblical Researches in Palestine and Adjacent Countries, 3 vols. (Boston: Crocker and Brewster; London: J. Murray, 1841). DOV GERA

Related entries: Burial Practices; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Hasmonean Dynasty; Maccabees, Second Book of; Menorah; Military, Jews in the; Names and Naming; Ptolemies; Roman Governors.

Marriage and Divorce Marriage was a contractual matter in ancient Judaism with parents arranging the betrothal of their children. The groom’s family offered the mwhr (‫)מוהר‬, the marriage payment or bridewealth, to the bride’s father (Gen 23:12; Exod 22:17; cf. Judg 14:2–3), who in turn would give his daughter a dowry to provide for her needs in case of divorce or widowhood (Gen 24:59; 61; 29:24, 29). The Elephantine texts (5th cent. bce) confirm this practice (TAD B3.8:33–37). The bridegroom paid the mwhr to the guardian of his bride (father or master) and this became part of her dowry. He also agreed to stipulations regarding divorce, additional wives, and conjugal rights (Satlow 2001: 199–224; Lemos 2010: 20–61). Whatever the precise arrangements, marriage involved the production of a written document to complete the transaction (cf. Tob 7:12–13; cf. Collins 1997: 109–10). The Essenes, probably including the settlers at Qumran, were especially strict in matters of sexuality. Both Philo and Josephus describe the Essenes as celibate (Hypoth. 11.14; J.W. 2.120– 121; Ant. 18.21), although Josephus does mention a second order of Essenes that married and raised families (J.W. 2.160; cf. Collins 1997: 130–35; Satlow 2001: 21–24). Before marriage, these Essene women had to prove that they were fertile by having three cycles of menstruation. Sexual intercourse was not allowed during pregnancy but considered to be for procreation purposes only (J.W. 2.161; cf. also Ag. Ap. 2.199). The Dead Sea Scrolls reveal further ancient restrictions regarding marriage (Loader 2009). The groom had to be at least 20 years old (1QSa i 10–11). Purity laws guarded the holiness

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of the community by increasing biblical purification rituals after sexual intercourse (11QTa xlv 11–12) and banning it entirely from the city of Jerusalem (CD A xii 1–2). The Damascus Document’s statement that a man must not transgress “by taking two wives in their lifetime” prohibits polygamy and perhaps also remarriage after divorce (CD A iv 20-v 6; cf. 11QTa lvii 17–19; cf. Instone-Brewer 2002: 59–72). Dowry settlements, marriage contracts, and divorce certificates have been discovered in eleven other texts found in the Judean wilderness dating as early as the end of the 1st century ce (Fitzmyer 2000; Satlow 2001: 93–100 and, on rabbinic views, 209–19). These texts reveal that a girl under the age of twelve could be betrothed. Surprisingly, the groom no longer provided a mwhr but signed a promissory note to give money to the bride along with the return of her dowry (consisting of silver, gold, and clothing) if he divorced her (Instone-Brewer 2002). While this innovation helped young men to marry who could not afford the sizable amount of money for the bride price (a minimum of 200 denarii, almost a year’s wages for a laborer) up front, it made divorce an expensive matter. Divorce was a matter of debate. The Torah allowed divorce in a situation of ʿrwt dbr (‫) ערות דבר‬, a curious phrase which has been interpreted variously from indecency to adultery (Deut 24:1). The 5th-century bce Elephantine texts cite both men and women declaring divorce without citing any reasons (Instone-Brewer 2002: 75–90). The Schools of Hillel and Shammai (1st cent. bce and 1st cent. ce) debated grounds for divorce, with the former permitting it for almost any displeasure to the husband and the latter recognizing the only legitimate cause to be adultery (m. Giṭ. 9:10; b. Giṭ. 90a). Apparently, both Jesus and Paul supported the Shammaite position (Mark 10:11–12; Matt 19:9; Luke 16:18; 1 Cor 7:10–11; contra, e.g., Josephus, Life 426). According to the rabbis, only a man could enact a divorce by writing out a certificate of divorce, but the Mishnah reports that a court could force a man to give his wife a divorce if she had convincing evidence against him (m. Giṭ. 9:8; m. ‘Arak. 5:6). In fact, a divorce certificate written on behalf of a woman, Papyrus Se’elim 13, has survived from 134 ce (cf., e.g., Collins 1997: 120–21).

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “Marriage, Divorce and Family in Second Temple Judaism,” in Families in Ancient Israel, ed. L. G. Perdue, J. Blenkinsopp, J. J. Collins and C. L. Meyers, 2nd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 104–62. J. Fitzmyer, “Marriage and Divorce,” EDSS (2000), 1:511–515. D. Instone-Brewer, Divorce and Remarriage in the Bible (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002). T. M. Lemos, Marriage Gifts and Social Change in Ancient Palestine: 1200 BCE to 200 CE (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). M. L. Satlow, Jewish Marriage in Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University, 2001). HANNAH K. HARRINGTON

Related entries: Babatha Archive; Celibacy; Clothing and Dress; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Covenant; Intermarriage; Jesus of Nazareth; Purification and Purity; Sages.

Martial M. Valerius Martialis (38/41–101/104) was a Roman citizen from Spain who had influential patrons at Rome, where he made his reputation composing witty epigrams. His satirical targets include 460

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foreigners from all over the empire. Jews are associated with circumcision, a practice that the Romans despised: Martial devotes one epigram to a man who tries to disguise his circumcision with a clasp (7.82) and another to a circumcised poet who is a plagiarist, a seducer of men, and a perjuror (11.94). Elsewhere, Jews are adduced in lists illustrating various personal shortcomings: one woman smells as bad as Jewish women fasting on the Sabbath (4.4), a misunderstanding of Jewish practice that may stem from the Sabbath ban on work, including cooking; another woman’s numerous partners include, among other nationalities, circumcised Jews (but no Romans), which implies that Jews and other foreigners are promiscuous (7.30); noise pollution at Rome includes the whining of Jewish beggars, the concept of the mendicant Jew perhaps stemming from a misunderstanding of the Jewish commitment to charity (12.57). Sometimes a fleeting reference to a Jewish characteristic or habit is too elliptical for secure identification, but Martial seems to regard Jews as over-sexed (7.35), and he knows that circumcision makes them liable for the fiscus Iudaicus, the tax that Vespasian imposed on the Jews after Titus destroyed the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce (7.55).

Bibliography D. S. Barrett, “Martial, Jews, and Circumcision,” Liverpool Classical Monthly 9 (1984): 42–46. KATHLEEN M. COLEMAN

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Persecution, Religious; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Sexuality; Tribute and Taxes.

Martyrdom Dying voluntarily when forced to violate Jewish law is known today as kiddush ha-Shem (sanctifying God’s Name). It has been argued that Hellenistic Judaism introduced the notion of voluntary death, taking the Book of Daniel and 2 Maccabees as points of departure (Frend 1965: 31–78). Second Maccabees chapters 6 and 7 relate the executions of Eleazar the scribe and seven anonymous brothers for refusing to eat pork as decreed by King Antiochus IV Epiphanes. It is possible, however, that this account was shaped by a Roman context (Tedesche and Zeitlin 1954: 27–31; van Henten 1997: 24–25, 96–97, 234; Shepkaru 2005: 25–33) in which voluntary death received a great deal of attention. For Romans in particular self-killing was regarded as honorable if committed to prevent slavery and dishonor (Droge and Tabor 1992: 32–44). Jewish society internalized this Roman idea. Fourth Maccabees mirrors this trend. It employs the stories of Eleazar and the mother with the seven sons to demonstrate that reason can govern emotions and overcome the fear of death. At the same time, the book hints that this Stoic idea conflicts with Jewish values. The sons acknowledge that “divine justice” and the law would have excused them had they decided not to exit “this most pleasant life” (4 Macc 8:18–27). Along similar lines, Philo admired the “wise [who] would most gladly choose death rather than slavery” (Prob. 135). Philo acknowledged that the idea came from the surrounding environment. Anyone who has “taken even a slight hold of [Greek] culture” knows that freedom is honorable and slavery a disgrace (Prob. 136). Philo also recorded historical events pertaining to voluntary death. He reported that ordinary Jewish families offered to commit murder-suicide in protest of the Roman general Petronius’ attempt to install Emperor Caligula’s image in the Temple. Their 461

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Roman-like behavior appears to have caused Petronius to delay carrying out Caligula’s orders. Meanwhile in Rome, King Agrippa warned Caligula that multitudes of Jews would rather die than see their Jerusalem Temple violated. Agrippa also offered to take his own life for defying the emperor. Impressed with his “truly free and noble” Roman spirit, Caligula forgave him (Legat. 308, 329, 332). The Jewish protesters were also spared because Caligula was assassinated in a political conspiracy (41 ce). The biblical prohibition against murder was not lost on the mind of the Jewish protesters. It was one thing to agree to be killed for the law, another to kill loved ones for it. But under the circumstances, they believed that “not God himself ” could blame them (Legat. 233–236). To justify their proposals further, Philo employed Temple cultic metaphors. The use of Temple-cult language stemmed also from a lack of Jewish theological terms for a noble voluntary death. Voluntary death is also a recurrent theme in the accounts of the Jewish historian Josephus. A survey of his work yields a total of 62 reports of such a death (Newel 1982: 351–69; Weitzman 2004). According to Josephus, it was an instinct with every Jew, “from the day of his birth,” to cheerfully die for God’s laws and Scripture (Ag. Ap. 1.42–43). Yet Josephus reveals his own anti-suicide bias in his report of the fall of Yodefat in 67 ce (J.W. 3.331). Trapped in a cave with 40 comrades, Josephus argued against committing murder-suicide, considering only a death by the enemy’s hands to be honorable and calling self-killing a cowardly act against God. His anti-suicide view perhaps influenced his report on the aforementioned encounter with Petronius. The Jews asked Petronius only to be put to the sword (Ant. 18.55–62, 263–271; J.W. 2.196– 197). Josephus appears more ambivalent in his report of the mass murder-suicide at Masada (J.W. 7.323–406). Eleazar, the leader of the besieged Jewish rebels, allegedly convinced them to commit murder-suicide as an act of fortitude. When the Romans entered Masada and discovered the 960 dead men, women, and children, they purportedly admired their contempt of death. But Josephus considered the rebels’ death to be an inevitable divine punishment of criminals. Overall, his accounts of voluntary death reflect an attempt to find a balance between Roman and Jewish traditions. The acceptance of the noble death idea is attested also in the Assumption of Moses (9:1–7). In this pseudepigraphical work, a Levite named Taxo preferred self-starvation with his seven sons over the transgression of God’s commands, expecting God to avenge their blood. Rabbinic texts incorporated stories of voluntary death in their memories of the Bar Kokhba rebellion and the anti-Jewish decrees of Emperor Hadrian (gezerot Hadrianus). Reactions to the decrees varied (Boyarin 1999: 42–66): Rabbi Elazar b. Perta denied the accusation of studying and teaching Torah in order to save his life. Rabbi Akiva did not proclaim the Shema (“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one,” Deut 6:4) audibly in compliance with the Roman decrees, although he is also said to have proclaimed it devotedly while being filleted by iron combs (b. Ber. 61b). Rabbi Hananniah b. Teradyon was more provocative. He was burned alive for teaching the Torah in public (B. ʿAbod. Zar. 17b). With the Hadrianic persecutions in mind, a 2nd-century rabbinic council at Lod discussed the legal (halakic) aspects of voluntary death. They concluded that when faced with the ultimatum of transgressing the commandments or death, one “should transgress rather than be killed,” except in cases of idolatry, sexual misconduct, and homicide (b. Sanh. 74a). For this Rabbi Ishmael, however, permitted idolatrous acts to save one’s life while, on the other extreme, some required Jews to submit to death during times of persecution, even for the most trivial commandment, with 462

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some even requiring submission to death when no persecution had been officially declared but the act was religiously motivated and to be carried out in public. At the same time, b. Gittin 57b narrates that 400 girls and boys leaped into the sea and died to escape “immoral” acts. For the most part, early rabbinic tales and the legal discussions on voluntary death lack a specific term for martyrdom, and it was not until later rabbinic accounts that Kiddush ha-Shem became a designation for martyrdom.

Bibliography D. Boyarin, Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999). A. Droge and J. Tabor, A Noble Death: Suicide and Martyrdom among Jews and Christians in Antiquity (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1992). W. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church: A Study of a Conflict from Maccabees to Donatus (Garden City: Anchor Books, 1965). R. Newel, “The Suicide Accounts in Josephus: A Form-Critical Study,” in SBL 1982 Seminar Papers, ed. K. Richards (Chico: Scholars Press, 1982). S. Shepkaru, Jewish Martyrs in the Pagan and Christian Worlds (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). S. Tedesche and S. Zeitlin, The Second Book of Maccabees (New York: Published for the Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate Learning by Harper, 1954). S. Weitzman, “Josephus on How to Survive Martyrdom,” JJS 55 (2004): 230–45. SHMUEL SHEPKARU

Related entries: Death and Afterlife; Faith and Faithfulness; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabean Revolt; Maccabees, Second Book of; Maccabees, Fourth Book of; Masada, History of; Philo of Alexandria; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Maccabean.

Masada, Archaeology of Location and Landscape Details.  The giant natural plateau of es-Sebbe, located ca. 15.5 miles (25 km) south of ʿEin-Gedi, measures 1,968.5 ft (600 m) from north to south and 984 ft (300 m) from east to west (see Map 12d: First Jewish War: Siege of Masada [73/74 ce]). In the west, the plateau drops 1,312 ft (400 m) to the Dead Sea plain, whereas in the east the drop is 328 ft (100 m) further down. Identification and Excavations. After Edward Robinson identified es-Sebbe in 1838 as the famous fortress mentioned in Josephus’ Jewish War (7.275–406) and Yigael Yadin excavated it in 1963–1965, Masada has rapidly acquired an almost mythical status (cf. Yadin 1998). Thanks to the substantial Final Report published in eight volumes (Aviram, Foerster, Netzer, and Stiebel 1989–2007), Masada is now a key site for the study of material culture in Hellenistic and Early Roman period Palestine and an important reference point for discussions about the “historical reliability” of Josephus. Archaeological Remains. Late Hellenistic Period. Very few archaeological remains can be ascribed to this period. A first fortification was established at the end of the 2nd century bce when the Hasmoneans expanded control across the Dead Sea Region into parts of Transjordan

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(Josephus, J.W. 4.399; 7.285). Together with Machaerus, Masada protected the southeastern flank of the Hasmonean kingdom against Nabatean incursions. Herodian Period. According to Netzer, the majority of archaeological remains belongs to three subphases of a luxurious palace-fortress dating to the time of king Herod the Great (40–4 bce): (Phase I) Just after his accession to power (Josephus, Ant. 14.361–362), Herod turned the Hasmonean fortress into a residential refuge (see Josephus, J.W. 1.286–294) by adding several luxurious mansions (Buildings 7, 9, 11, 12, 13, and the core of the Western Palace) that served as dwellings for family members or guests. Cisterns supplied water; two or three columbarium towers provided food and fertilizer, while a large swimming pool and a small bathhouse offered entertainment. (Phase II) After Cleopatra committed suicide in 30 bce, the king took full advantage of the new political stability and increasingly expressed his role as client king by ambitious building projects. On Masada, Herod completely changed the northern end of the plateau by adding the “crowning glory of Herodian construction at Masada” (Ben-Tor 2009: 51; see J.W. 7.289– 292): the Northern Palace. Secluded from the sprawling luxury on the plateau by a large wall, the palace crouches on the cliffs like a swallow’s nest extending down over three terraces (Figure 4.69). The highest level “served as sleeping quarters and for reception purposes” (Netzer 2006: 30). The middle and lower terraces were reserved for enjoyment and entertainment. On the lowest platform Herod’s architects constructed a massive square-shaped central hall. Next to it stood an exquisite bathhouse with apodyterium (dressing room), tepidarium (warm bath),

Figure 4.69  Plan and reconstruction of the three-level palace on the northern cliff of Masada (Mohr Siebeck Tübingen).

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caldarium (hot bath), and frigidarium (cold bath) plus two bedrooms above, certainly the most private part in Herod’s Northern Palace. Immediately south of the Northern Palace Herod built another sumptuous Roman-style bathhouse. A large pool (natatio) in the palaestra (gymnasium) invited guests to take a plunge. The bathhouse was lavishly decorated with polychrome floors, stucco ornamentation, and colorfully painted walls. The third element was 16 long storage halls for oil, wine, grain, fruit, spices, and salt, as well as weapons and raw materials to arm the garrison. Herod also had huge cisterns hewn into Masada’s summit and its western slope providing a total capacity of ca. 10,600,000 gallons of water (40 million liters, or 40,000 m³) (J.W. 7.282). (Phase III) Between 20 bce and 6 ce Masada’s defensive potential was improved by surrounding the entire mountain with a strong, whitewashed casemate wall with a circumference of 4,600 ft (1,400 m). Twenty-seven towers and 4 gates offered additional protection. Building 8 was also added, perhaps to cover the approach of the “snake path” from the east. After Judea became a province in 6 ce, a small Roman garrison guarded Masada. A Village of Resurgents during the First Revolt. When Menachem’s sicarii took the fortress in 66 ce, they quickly overwhelmed the Roman garrison (J.W. 7.408), captured considerable amounts of food and military supplies (J.W. 7.295–296), and turned the fortress into an easily defendable refugee village (J.W. 7.252–253). Rooms and installations were inserted into casemates, palaces, or bathhouses. The inhabitants apparently paid special attention to purity, adding stepped pools (miqvaʾot) or using some exclusively purity-oriented pottery types (“dung ware”) as well as many stone vessels. They had also brought religious texts to Masada; lists of names, writing exercises, and scribbles on the other hand document various activities of everyday life. On the northwestern section of the casemate wall, a room that originally may have served as dining hall (triclinium) was changed into the community center (synagogue; see arrow in Figure 4.70) by adding benches to the hall, rearranging the internal colums, eliminating a dividing wall, and adding a small room in the back (Figure 4.71). Since fragments of biblical books were found here, some suggest that it had served as a genizah. Nearby (locus 1039), another cache of ostraca and papyri was found in a casemate, sometimes called “Locus of the Scrolls”. Roman Army Presence during and after the First Revolt. In 73 ce Roman governor Flavius Silva led Legio X Fretensis and numerous auxiliaries (ca. 13,000 soldiers) to surround Masada with a circumvallatio strengthened by eight camps. The army built a siege ramp (J.W. 7.310–312) and stormed the fortified rebel village. Josephus eternalized the heroism of the last defenders under Eleazar Ben Ya’ir (J.W. 7.323–388). Excavations in the camps and on the plateau have revealed a large amount of Roman weapons and equipment. After the Romans had captured Masada, they placed a small garrison on the mountain until the Nabatean kingdom became Provincia Arabia in 106 ce. The soldiers left administrative papyri, literary works, imported pottery (Ant. 20.115), and a couple of burials, which had previously— and erroneously—been interpreted as remains of the last Jewish defenders. Later Occupation. During the middle of the 5th century ce, Byzantine monks arrived on the plateau and established a small community with agricultural installations, a gate, a number of monastic cells, and a church. The anchorites called the site Marda and lived there until shortly after the Muslim conquest.

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Figure 4.70  Masada’s mountaintop during the third Herodian building phase (Mohr Siebeck Tübingen).

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Figure 4.71  Inside of synagogue integrated into western casemate wall (2nd phase).

Bibliography J. Aviram, G. Foerster, E. Netzer, and G. D. Stiebel, ed., The Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965. Final Reports, 8 vols. (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1989–2007). A. Ben-Tor, Back to Masada (Jerusalem: Israel Exporation Society, 2009). J. Magness, Masada: From Jewish Revolt to Modern Myth (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2019). Y. Yadin, Masada: Herod’s Fortress and the Zealots’ Last Stand (New York: Welcome Rain, 1998). JÜRGEN K. ZANGENBERG

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Baths; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Columbaria; Fortresses and Palaces; Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Martyrdom; Masada, History of; Masada, Texts from; Revolt, First Jewish; Sicarii; Synagogues.

Masada, History of Masada is a fortress atop a plateau overlooking the Dead Sea. It is most famous as the site of a Roman siege that took place during the First Jewish Revolt, which ended in 73/74 ce when Masada’s 960 defenders committed suicide (Josephus, J.W. 7.252–406; see Map 12d: First Jewish War: Siege of Masada [73/74 ce]). According to Josephus, the Hasmonean high priest Jonathan built the first structure there (J.W. 7.285); because archaeological remains from this period are difficult to identify, however, some experts (Netzer 1991: 3.646–49) suggest Josephus actually refers to Alexander Jannaeus (104–76 bce). In 40 bce, Herod the Great placed his family and supporters atop Masada when he fled from Mattathais Antigonus, whom the Parthians made 467

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king (Ant. 14.390–91). When he became the monarch, Herod (40–4 bce) fortified the site as a place of refuge (J.W. 7.280–300). He erected most of the extant structures there, including a threetiered palace on the edge of a cliff, a bathhouse, storehouses, cisterns, and an aqueduct (Atkinson 2006: 350–57; Netzer 1989: 4.5–383; Yadin 1966: 41–191). According to Josephus, a group of Jewish rebels known as the Sicarii (“dagger-men”), famous for using concealed small daggers (sicae) to assassinate their foes, occupied Masada in 66 ce at the outbreak of the First Jewish Revolt. They used the fortress as a base to destroy the surrounding villages (J.W. 4.399–409). Refugees from Jerusalem and elsewhere increased Masada’s population during its final months of occupation. Masada remained the last rebel stronghold after the 70 ce destruction of Jerusalem by Titus. In 73/74 ce Flavius Silva, commander of the tenth legion and governor of Judea, besieged Masada (J.W. 7.304–406), with the Romans finally capturing it in 73 or 74 ce (Netzer 1989: 2.21–23). Remains of their circumvallation wall, eight camps, and a siege rampart are still extant (Netzer 1989: 4.385–572; Yadin 1966: 207–23). The Romans garrisoned Masada until approximately 115/116 ce. Byzantine monks later established a small monastic settlement there from the 5th to the early 7th centuries ce (Netzer 1989: 4.360–87; Yadin 1966: 111–15). In 1838 the American scholar Edward Robinson identified the site es-Sebba as Masada. Following its discovery, several scholars explored and surveyed portions of Masada from the mid-19th to the early 20th centuries. Israeli teams surveyed Masada in 1953 and 1955–1956. The Israeli archaeologist Yigael Yadin conducted two excavations of Masada between 1963 and 1965 (Yadin 1966: 11–35, 231–45). Yadin also undertook a major reconstruction and restoration of the site. Shemaryahu Gutman reconstructed one of the Roman siege camps during the 1970s, which is located near today’s visitor center. Between 1994 and 1996 the Hebrew University conducted small excavations at Masada. In 1995 a consortium from several institutions excavated Roman siege camp F (Atkinson 2006: 353). Josephus preserves two speeches by Eleazar Ben Ya’ir in which he advised Masada’s defenders to commit suicide rather than to allow the Romans to capture them (J.W. 7.320–88). The rebels selected ten men by lots to kill everyone, after which they in turn cast lots to select one person to kill the remaining nine before committing suicide. Josephus claims that 960 of Masada’s defenders died in this manner before the Romans breached its wall. Only seven survived to report to Silva the details of what had taken place. Yadin identified the skeletons of men, women, and children in Masada’s northern palace (three skeletons) and the southern cave (25 skeletons) as remains of its Jewish defenders, and ostraca with names, including “Ben Ya’ir” as the lots cast by the rebels (Netzer 1989: 4.366–67; Yadin 1966: 193–99). Based on these findings and the archaeological remains of a battle at the site, Yadin considered Josephus’ account accurate (Yadin 1966: 224–30). Subsequent reassessments of his excavation and Josephus’ Jewish War have challenged his conclusion (Atkinson 2006: 350–58; Roth 1995: 87–110). For instance, the remains of debris piled against a wall near the northern palace appear to be a siege ramp built by the Romans. This suggests some rebels took refuge in this structure and fought the Romans there. Because Greco-Roman literature contains several stories of mass suicide, Josephus may have used suicide as a literary device to produce an engaging story about Masada’s last defenders (Atkinson 2006: 365–67). The recent excavation of the Roman Camp F found little evidence of vessels for preparing food, which suggests the siege was rather short (Atkinson 2006: 353). 468

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Yadin found several important documents in Hebrew the defenders brought to the site as well as Roman materials inscribed in Greek and Latin. The Jewish texts include a fragment of The Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, otherwise known only from the Dead Sea Scrolls, and a PaleoHebrew papyrus fragment that likely contains a Samaritan prayer (Atkinson 2006, 358; Netzer 1989: 6.120–47; Yadin 1996: 168–79). The inscription “Ananias the high priest and Aqaviah his son” on a jar at the site refers to the former high priest (59–47 ce) Ananias bar Nebedaeus (Atkinson 2005: 357–58). Yadin also found fragments from several books of the Hebrew Scriptures (Genesis, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, Psalms, and Ezekiel) and several fragments of the Hebrew text of Ben Sira (Netzer 1988: 6.31–97; Yadin 1966: 168–79).

Bibliography K. Atkinson, “Noble Deaths at Gamla and Masada? A Critical Assessment of Josephus’s Accounts of Jewish Resistance in Light of Archaeological Discoveries,” in  Making History: Josephus and Historical Method, ed. Z. Rogers, JSJSup 110 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 349–71. J. Roth, “The Length of the Siege of Masada,” ScrCI 14 (1995): 87–110. KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Death and Afterlife; Josephus, Writings of; Martyrdom; Masada, Archaeology of; Masada, Texts from; Roman Generals.

Masada, Texts from The excavations at Masada yielded thousands of items that preserved text in Greek, Latin, Nabatean, Hebrew, and Aramaic on manuscripts and papyri fragments, coins, and ostraca. Some were written in situ (e.g. ostraca, Greek papyri), while others arrived on imported goods (e.g. Latin jar inscriptions) or were carried among the possessions of those who relocated to the site (e.g. Hebrew manuscripts). Of the Jewish materials (for sigla and editions see Fitzmyer 2008), the fragments of Hebrew manuscripts have attracted the most attention. Two were discovered under the floor of the synagogue in what Yadin identified as a genizah—an identification that has been questioned (Popović 2012: 584)—while most of the others were found, along with papyri and ostraca, in a casemate (locus 1039), sometimes referred to as the “Locus of the Scrolls” (see “Masada, Archaeology of ” map 2). The Romans probably amassed this horde while sorting the spoils after the fall of Masada, deliberately tearing some of the manuscripts as they did so (see Map 12d: First Jewish War: Siege of Masada [73/74 ce]). Among the preserved fragments are the following sections of biblical text: Genesis 46:7–11 (MasGen); Leviticus 4:3–9 (MasLeva), 8:31–11:40 (MasLevb); Deuteronomy 33:17–34:6 (MasDeut); Ezekiel 35:11–38:14 (MasEzek); Psalm 81:2b–85:6a (MasPsa) and 150:1–6 (MasPsb). The biblical manuscripts are the work of expert scribes and can all be dated paleographically to the second half of the last century bce, except for MasGen, which may be slightly earlier (beginning of the 1st cent. bce). The text the manuscripts contain is essentially identical with the Masoretic Text tradition (but see Ulrich 2003). In some cases (e.g. MasLevb) even the use of plene or defective spelling and punctuation (“open” and “closed” sections) accords with the Masoretic Text, though in other cases these differ slightly (e.g. MasEzek, MasPsb). Even in cases where the ancient versions (e.g.

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Septuagint) reflect an alternative Vorlage, the Masada fragments support the Masoretic Text, as is the case for Ezekiel, bringing into doubt the claim that the Old Greek version preserved in Papyrus 967 must reflect an anterior text-form (Patmore 2012: 136–46; 173–77). Similarly, Psalm 150 was the last psalm on MasPsb, corresponding to the Masoretic Text rather than to the Septuagint or the Qumran Psalms Scroll (11Q5 = 11QPsa), in which another psalm (151) follows. MasGen may be an exception to this picture: although only eight complete words are preserved, there are three variants from the Masoretic Text, leading some to suggest that this is not a copy of Genesis at all but rather another copy of Jubilees or a Jubilees-like text (see Young 2002: 371). If so, it should be classified with the three other “para-biblical” texts, the identification of which is disputed due to their fragmentary state. The few discernable words on Mas 1m—found in an ash heap resulting from a deliberate incineration of furniture, vessels, and fabric—suggested to Yadin that it is an Apocryphon on Esther; however, Talmon (1999) considered it a paraphrase of the Joseph narrative. Recently Tigchelaar (2014) has argued that it is another copy of a work found at Qumran, namely 4QAdmonition Based on the Flood (4Q370). Similarly, Mas1l, which may well reflect the same composition as the Qumran Apocryphon of Joshua (cf. 4Q378; 4Q379), was initially identified as an Apocryphon of Samuel. By contrast, the distinctive collocation “the Prince of Hostility (‫שר המסטמה‬, śr hmsṭmh)” in Mas 1j (also called MasJub or MaspsJub; Figure 4.72) strongly suggests a connection with Jubilees or Pseudo-Jubilees (cf. 4Q225 2 i 9–10 and ii 13, 14; see further Eshel 2003). Masada also yielded the oldest extant manuscript of Ben Sira (MasSir), containing the Hebrew text of Ben Sira 39:27–44:17. Its paleography is late Hasmonean and earlier than the copies of small parts of Ben Sira in 2Q18 and 11Q5 (xxi 11–xx 1), so the scroll is slightly earlier than the other biblical manuscripts. The textual data proves that the Cairo Genizah manuscripts of Ben Sira go back to a Hebrew text from the Second Temple period (rather than being a medieval translation into Hebrew) and confirms the value of the Greek translation as a witness to the most ancient form of the text. Parallels between the Masada texts and those from Qumran, as well as the presence of a copy of the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (MasShirShabb), suggest that some texts were brought to Masada by members of the Qumran community. This indicates the heterogenous make-up of the fortress’ population during the revolt—even more so if one accepts that the papyrus fragment in a paleo-Hebrew script that contains a reference to “Mount Gerizim” (Mas 1o) is a Samaritan composition. Other artifacts containing texts include more than 700 ostraca. Those in Hebrew and Aramaic can be dated between 66 and 73 ce and shed light on the social organization of Masada’s defenders: most were tokens bearing individual graphemes or people’s names, though some are lists, fragments of epistles, or instruction. Almost all are connected to the administration of food and goods (including the portioning of tithes). Nearly 5,000 coins were also found; about half date to the Jewish Revolt (Yadin, Naveh, Meshorer 1989). In addition to the value (e.g. “Shekel of Israel”) and year (taken from the start of the Jewish Revolt, so year 2 = 67/68 ce), many bear nationalistic inscriptions in a paleo-Hebrew script (e.g. “The Freedom of Zion”). The majority of the Greek texts (i.e. ostraca, papyri) were probably written by Jews as well (Cotton, Geiger 1989). Most of the papyri are too fragmentary to be legible, but one preserves enough text to reveal a beautifully executed letter from a certain Abascantos to Judah (Mas 741) 470

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Figure 4.72  Mas (ps)Jubilees (mid-1st cent. ce) containing a reference to the Prince of Hostility (‫שר המסטמה‬, sar ha-masṭema). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

apparently concerning the supply of fruit and vegetables. All are difficult to date precisely, but Greek seems to have been more prevalent at the site during the time of Herod than during the First Jewish Revolt.

Bibliography H. M. Cotton and J. Geiger with J. D. Thomas, Masada II: Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965: Final Reports. The Latin and Greek Documents (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1989). E. Eshel, “Mastema’s Attempt on Moses’ Life in the ‘Pseudo-Jubilees’ Text from Masada,” DSD 10.3 (2003): 359–64. J. A. Fitzmyer, A Guide to the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008). H. M. Patmore, Adam, Satan, and the King of Tyre (Leiden: Brill, 2012). S. Talmon with C. Newsom et al., Masada VI: Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965: Final Reports. Hebrew Fragments from Masada (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society / The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1999). 471

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E. Tigchelaar, “Identification of the So-Called Genesis Apocryphon from Masada,” RQ 26 (2014): 439–46. E. Ulrich, “Two Perspectives on Two Pentateuchal Manuscripts from Masada,” in Emanuel : Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov, ed. S. M. Paul, R. A. Kraft, L. H. Schiffman, and W. W. Fields, VTSup 94 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 453–64. Y. Yadin, J. Naveh, and Y. Meshorer, Masada I: Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965: Final Reports. The Aramaic and Hebrew Ostraca and Jar Inscriptions; The Coins of Masada (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society / The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1989). I. Young, “The Stabilization of the Biblical Text in the Light of Qumran and Masada: A Challenge for Conventional Qumran Chronology?” DSD 9.3 (2002): 364–90. HECTOR M. PATMORE

Related entries: Deuteronomy, Book of; Ezekiel, Book of; Genesis, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Jubilees, Book of; Leviticus, Book of; Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls; Psalms, Book of; Text Types, Hebrew; Scripts and Scribal Practices.

Meals Introduction.  The importance of meals to the cultures of ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern societies, including that of Judea in the Second Temple period, can hardly be overestimated. This is due not only to the commensal nature of meals but also to the complex networks of social transactions on which every meal depended, from the production and procurement of agricultural goods to the preparation and delivery of victuals. Different forms of commensality occurred with different frequency: in addition to daily common meals, there were recurrent sacral fellowship and public cultic festivals, as well as one-time banquets to celebrate special events. Demand for appropriate provisions was met by supply networks to which participants from every social strata and status contributed. Because meals occurred constantly and ubiquitously, met natural hunger, complemented numerous other social activities, and marked the culmination of the multiple ongoing collaborations involving contributions from many participants, commensality functioned as a powerful communicative medium. Furthermore, being amenable to infinite variety in size, menu, configuration, duration, and application, commensality enabled participants to negotiate social transactions in the idiom of local symbols and customs. Thus the symbolic capacity of meals invites comparison with other non-linguistic communicative media such as clothing, hairstyles, and architecture (Dirks and Hunter 2012: 3–13). General Features.  Cult. Ancient commensality entailed cultic features. Outside Judean society, meals were preceded by an invocation to the gods and a libation of wine. Similarly, some Judean practices included a blessing before meals (e.g. 1QS vi 4–5; 1QSa ii 22–23; Josephus, J.W. 2.131– 132; Philo, Spec. 2.175; t. Ber. 4.1). In addition, all appear to have concluded the main portion of the meal with a prayer of thanksgiving, a tradition that early rabbis grounded in an interpretation of Deuteronomy 8:10 (m. Ber. 3.3). Ancient societies often assumed that deities eat, observe human activity, and travel between heavenly and earthly realms. It is unsurprising, then, that in many places gods and humans were thought to dine together occasionally, with specific features of such meals corresponding to particular cultural values (e.g. Gen 18:1–8; 19:1–3 Exod 24:9–11; cf. Euripides, Orest. 1–10; Pindar, Odes 1.35–64; Ovid, Metam. 8.612–727; cf. Heb 13:2). Since the Babylonian exile and possibly earlier, hopes for restored political sovereignty and power

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Figure 4.73  Locus 77 at Khirbet Qumran, identified as dining hall.

over conquered enemies found commensal expression (e.g. Isa 25:6–12; 55:1–5; Ps 23:5; Mark 14:22–25; 1QSa ii 11–22). Reverence for the Jerusalem Temple cult was visible in a variety of commensal practices. For example, Philo claimed that the Egyptian Therapeutae ate only leavened bread at their meal, lest they appear to arrogate equality to the Jerusalem priests who eat the holy unleavened bread in the Temple (Contempl. 81). Josephus claimed that the Judean Essenes took midday and evening meals in a purified state while clothed in white and approached the dining hall “as though entering some holy shrine (temenos)” (τέμενος; J.W. 2.129–133; Figure 4.73). Desire to maintain the same degree of purity as the priests in the Jerusalem Temple may have motivated the supererogatory restrictions on receiving, giving, and sharing comestibles that both the Yaḥad covenanters and ḥberym (‫)חברים‬ observed (e.g. 1QS v 13–17; vi 13–23; CD A xii 8–11; m. Demai 2.1–4). It also seems likely that the apostle Paul’s exhortations that members of the ekklesiai discipline commensal habits to promote communal unity (Rom 14; 1 Cor 8; 11; Gal 2:11–14) were partly motivated by the notion of the community as a holy temple designed and protected by God (1 Cor 3:10–16; 2 Cor 6:16). With the possible exception of ḥaverîm practices, all of the above Temple-oriented features of ancient Judean commensality were established before 70 ce, i.e., while the Jerusalem Temple still stood. Most of these features were understood as complementary to the Temple cult; though it was impossible to enter its inner courts, one could participate in the holy institution. Arguably, even practices that functioned as Temple substitutes because it was corrupted (as the covenanters believed) or destroyed (as was likely for the ḥaverîm) confirmed the Jerusalem Temple’s centrality to Judean identity; indeed, it remained superior to the substitute, because such sacred meals only were thought necessary until the ideal Temple would be restored. Whether complements to or substitutes for the real Temple, commensal features were designed to facilitate participation in holy things, and thus could be regarded as “sacral” in a general sense.

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Settings and behavior. Households provided the setting for various forms of commensality. Beyond the common daily meals, households provided settings for formal banquets on various occasions (e.g. familial events such as marriage, birth, death), for meetings of voluntary associations (including cultic and scholastic societies), for public festivals, or for enjoying the company of friends. Other settings are attested. Pagan temples dedicated space for worshipers to consume sacral meals; here common people might share more expensive meat from sacrificial animals. Commensality for politicians and others in honored positions took place in public buildings like the prytaneion (πρυτανεῖον) at the center of the polis (πόλις). Although prytaneion fare was famously simple, the meal honored subjects who brought honor to the polis; a polis demonstrated gratitude to its greatest living benefactors with meals in the prytaneion for life. Food was served on low tables beside couches on which diners reclined. Configurations varied by location: a temple dining room or a prytaneion could hold up to 100 couches; a common household dining room could accommodate only three or four. By the Hellenistic era a standard emerged in which three couches, each large enough for three reclining men, were arranged in a Π configuration; this arrangement lies behind triclinium, the Roman-era term for a standard dining room. Prior to the meal, the host arranged seating order for guests based on social rank. Guests received water and assistance for washing their feet and then took their respective places on the couches (cf. John 13:1–12). Diners reclined to eat, resting their weight on the left elbow and using the right hand to eat. By the Second Temple period this convention was well established in Judean and neighboring societies (cf. Tob 2:1; 7:9; 3 Macc 5:16; John 21:20). It appears earliest in Assyrian sources, while in Israelite and Judahite sources it is mentioned as early as the 8th century bce (cf. Amos 6:4–7). Greek evidence mentions reclining, beginning with in the 6th century bce. The seated posture is also attested in sources from neighboring societies and appears to have been required of lower-rank diners when they dined with those of higher rank as, e.g., when women dined with men. Varro, writing in 1st century bce Rome, claimed that over time, “men began to recline and women sat, because the reclining posture was deemed shameful in a woman” (see Isidore, Etym. 20.11.9, trans. Roller 2006). However, as Matthew Roller has shown, such a differentiation is not universally depicted, and sources that recommend it do so within decline narratives that idealize decorously distinct posture as one of many past virtues that have been ruined en route to the present. Varro’s observation might contain less information about pre-Republican Rome than usually supposed, but it draws attention to worries among elite Romans that contemporary commensal habits were failing to reproduce the distinctions between status and rank that sustained their identity (Roller 2006: 1–9). Conviviality and the well-ordered life. Banquets afforded opportunity to enjoy blessings of life, such as food, wine, and music, as well as sex with attendant prostitutes (James 2006: 224– 51), with enslaved male and female youths (Daniel-Hughes 2012: 165–78), or with a fellow diner. While reports of excess are common in ancient sources, the sensible habit of consuming solid food before and while imbibing usually prevented a more volatile situation. Conventions on the order of events kept enjoyment flowing while limiting the dangers of mixing wine with provocative ideas and deeds. At a banquet the first event was the meal, followed by the symposium

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with wine, more food, and entertainment, including in some circles vigorous conversations about philosophy, politics, and other serious topics. Culture and pedagogy. Words uttered by Epicurus in 4th-century bce Athens summarize ubiquitous common sense: “You must reflect carefully beforehand with whom you are to eat and drink, rather than what you are to eat and drink. For a dinner of meats without the company of a friend is like the life of a lion or a wolf ” (so Seneca, Ep. 1.19 LCL). This saying suggests that community, even more than nourishment, is the primary benefit of commensality. Epicurus’ saying might also suggest that commensality bore strong implications for ethical formation and for status. These suggestions appear explicitly in instructions on dining etiquette in Judean texts such as Ben Sira chapters 31–32 (cf. also Luke 14:1–24; Mark 2:15–17), in which the sage not only offers typical moralizing exhortations toward moderation in food and wine but also gives practical advice on the conduct of a host, guidelines for honorable and orderly conversation, and the use of music. Ancient writers agreed that commensality presented, along with enjoyment of convivial pleasures, grave dangers to individuals and to their societies. Yet it could not be abolished any more than other natural practices of the “political animal,” and therefore should be regulated. In On the Special Laws, Plato brings all dining practices under the direct control and supervision of utopian state managers (636a-c). His sussitia are solemn and disciplined, even for young children and the mothers who watch over them. Above all, commensality should not, by definition, be private at all, as it contributes to both the instruction in virtue and the formation of Magnesia’s citizens. Plato also maintained that private commensality was dangerous because it afforded opportunity to conspire secretly against one’s neighbors, family, and gods, while public commensality made it possible for the state to supervise its subjects efficiently and directly, to educate them in appropriate Magnesian habits and values, and to train them to hold one another accountable by constant monitoring and reporting. The pedagogical, supervisory function of commensality exploits the public visibility of a strictly defined and frequently repeated social action in which everyone participates. In order to maximize the consistency of group behavior, these features made deviance conspicuous and facilitated its efficient correction. The formative and instructive function of common meals also served to establish and maintain clear distinctions between those who belong to a particular group and those who do not (e.g. Dan 1:8–17; 4 Macc 5:25–27). Kashruth meal practices established noticeable indicators by which Judeans of particular groups could easily recognize each other, making it readily possible for them to form close bonds with each other while being a deterrent to outsiders from associating with them (cf., e.g., Gal 2:12). Forbidding sales to gentiles of produce that can be used for idolatrous worship (cf. m. ʿAbod. Zar. 1:5) is likely to have additional effects; i.e., it would have limited social contact that could have led to intermarriage and would also have prevented the formation of strong political alliances with foreign authorities. The strict requirement that members of a group only consume products they know to be tithed and pure, as ḥaverîm did, limited commensality to those within a ḥavurah. Requiring silence during meals, as in Josephus’ Essenes (J.W. 2.129–133) and Philo’s Therapeutae (Contempl. 24–25, 34–37, 66–69), appears to violate what ancient common sense held to be the point of commensality: joyful fellowship, controlled exuberance. Among the Covenanters, denying access to new wine and pure goods until members proved their fidelity to communal halakah for two years (1QS viii 10, 15–27) or more

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seems likely to have served multiple purposes, including limiting outsiders’ interest in joining the sectarian movement.

Bibliography C. Daniel-Hughes, “The Sex Trade and Slavery at Meals,” in Meals in the Early Christian World: Social Formation, Experimentation, and Conflict at the Table, ed. D. Smith and H. Taussig (New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2012), 165–78. R. Dirks and G. Hunter, “The Anthropology of Food,” in Routledge International Handbook of Food Studies (London: Routledge, 2012), 3–13. S. James, “A Courtesan’s Choreography: Female Liberty and Male Anxiety at the Roman Dinner Party,” in Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World, ed. C. Faraone and L. McClure (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006), 224–51. M. Roller, Dining Posture in Ancient Rome: Bodies, Values, and Status (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006). YONDER MOYNIHAN GILLIHAN

Related entries: Associations; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Holiness; Josephus, Writings of; Pauline Letters; Priesthood; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sectarianism; Varro, Marcus Terentius.

Mediator Figures In Second Temple Jewish literature, the term “mediator figures” can be used to refer to a rather wide variety of heavenly beings (Sullivan 2004: 2–3, 16–22). The most common example of a mediator figure is an angel—a divine agent of God who comes to earth to carry out an appointed task and then returns to heaven. There are many types of heavenly beings that could be considered angels, such as the Angel of the Lord (cf. below), archangels (e.g. Gabriel or Michael), cherubim (e.g. Gen 3:24; Ezek 28:14, 16), and seraphim (Isa 6:2, 7). Other beings, without being called “angels” directly, could be depicted in comparable language (e.g. Son of Man in 1 En. 46; Jesus in Ascen. Isa. 9). In addition, there are other heavenly beings that are not considered angels. Thus a broader category of “mediator figures” can be useful to talk about the many kinds of intermediaries that exist in the literature. The use of mediator figures seems to suggest a desire of humans to overcome the distance between the physical world and heaven and to interact with God. That is, mediator figures were a means by which believers sought to deal with God’s transcendence. Though not always clearly distinct from one another, there are three main groups of heavenly beings that can be considered under the rubric of mediator figures: principal angels, hypostatic beings, and righteous/exalted humans. Principal angels such as Gabriel (Dan 8:16, 9:21; Luke 1:19, 26), Michael (Dan 10:13, 21, 12:1; Jude 9; Rev 12:7), Raphael (Tobit 12:15), and Uriel (4 Ezra 5:20, 10:28), or the Angel of the Lord (e.g. Gen 16, 22; Exod 3:2; Judg 2, 5–6, 13; Num 22; Matt 1–2; Acts 12), feature prominently in some Second Temple writings (cf. treatments of them as groups in 1 En. 9–10; 20; 71; 87:2; Tob 12:11). These angels take on specific and important tasks for God and are often understood as his agent or viceroy, speaking with God’s authority, bearing God’s name, and carrying out warfare and divine justice as well as making important pronouncements and interpreting visions. The specificity with which these angels are identified (proper names) and the authority invested in them suggests that they outrank other angels or heavenly beings. Their individuality makes them more relatable to humans and helps them to mediate between the 476

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distant God and the mundane world. Some scholars have suggested that principal angels were one of several antecedents to early Christology (Gieschen 1998). A second group often considered under the title “mediator figures” is hypostatic (distinct, personal) beings. Examples of such beings would be Wisdom in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Prov 1–9, esp. 8; cf. further Wis 9:1), the Word (Logos) in the Gospel of John (John 1:1–5), Wisdom of Solomon (cf. 9:1), and the writings of Philo of Alexandria (e.g. Conf. 146; Agr. 51; Opif. 24–25), or the Holy Spirit (e.g. Matt 1:18; Luke 1:35). These beings are often an attribute of God (such as Wisdom) or a non-corporeal entity (such as the Holy Spirit) that becomes personified and understood as an independent being with which humans can interact in some form and in so doing also interact with God. These beings seem to demonstrate that aspects of God could be personified and understood as distinct in some sense, while still sharing in the divine nature of God. Their distinctiveness alongside their shared divine nature made these beings important in theological speculations, and would contribute to later reflection among followers of Jesus about the extent to which he could be thought to share in human and divine characteristics. The third and perhaps most significant category of mediator figures is the exalted/righteous human; examples include Enoch (e.g. Gen 5:24; 1 En. 71:14), Noah (1 En. 89:1), Moses (e.g. Exod 34:29; Deut 34:5; Philo, Virt. 76; Sacr. 8–10; 1 En. 89:36), and Jesus. This is a relatively exclusive class of human beings who through their actions in life seem to have attained a level of righteousness such that they were transformed just before or at the moment of death into a divine being or specifically into angels (Charlesworth 1980). Their unique status makes them mediator figures, because while they were once human, they now enjoy a divine (or semidivine/ superhuman) status. There is significant variety between the humans in this category. Enoch is mentioned very little in the Hebrew Bible, but the enigmatic passage spawned numerous texts about him. Moses lived his entire life, saw God, and apparently at his death ascended into heaven. The early Christians clearly debated the relationship between the human and divine natures of Jesus Christ. This third category seems to address the theological question of the human initiative with regard to connection with the divine, because instead of a distinct being or a personified attribute coming from God to interact with humans, a human transcends the boundaries that separate him or her from heaven and God. These special humans became the focus of early Jewish and Christian mysticism wherein individual mystics sought to see and commune with God. Scholars debate about whether the various mediator figures seen in the literature created any ambiguity with regard to the “monotheism” of Second Temple Jews and early Christians. Some scholars (such as Bauckham 1998) believe that strict monotheistic sensibilities of Jews and early Christians did not allow for any inclusion of any other figures who were equated with God until the early Christians included Jesus in the Godhead. Others scholars (such as Hurtado 1998) suggest that other mediator figures were an important antecedent to the close association of Jesus with God, effectively opening up the possibility of his inclusion into what may have otherwise been a more strictly monotheistic framework. Notwithstanding which side of the debate is correct, the early Christians ultimately chose to include two key mediator figures—Jesus (as the Son) and the Holy Spirit—into their understanding of God. Increasingly, early Christians faced both binitarian (when including Jesus) and trinitarian (when including the Holy Spirit) controversies for several centuries as various theologies took shape. Nevertheless, Fletcher-Louis (2015) argues that Jesus was already being understood as divine during the earliest years of the Jesus movement. 477

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Lastly, some of these mediator figures may have contributed to what scholars have called the “Two Powers in Heaven” controversy (Segal 1977). While the writings of the rabbis relate the dispute to the inclusion of Jesus in Christian theological understandings of God, the inclusion of a principal divine being with God may extend back to the late Second Temple period.

Bibliography R. Bauckham, God Crucified: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). J. Charlesworth, “The Portrayal of the Righteous as Angels,” Ideal Figures in Ancient Judaism (1980), 135–51. KEVIN P. SULLIVAN

Related entries: Ascent into Heaven; Jesus of Nazareth; Wisdom (Personified).

Medicine and Hygiene The categories of medicine and hygiene in ancient Jewish healing practices are in many respects interwoven as they, in turn, could be mixed and could incorporate also astrology, angelology/ demonology, and magic. The pharmacological expertise and medical traditions of the Hippocratic tradition, based on concepts of bodily humors and employed in the Hellenistic world by physicians at Asclepia and other cultic centres, were combined with traditional folk medicine. In Judea/ Syria Palaestina there was a widespread belief that demons (impure, evil spirits) caused disease, as evidenced in the healing stories of the New Testament Gospels. Thus pharmacology could be linked with exorcism, as it is, e.g., when the recipe for getting rid of a demon is called a pharmakon (φάρμακον) in the Book of Tobit (Codex Sinaiticus, Tob 6:1–8) and when, according to Josephus, a certain Eleazar likely uses mandrake root in a ring to render a man exorcised (unconscious) in front of Vespasian (Ant. 8.42–49; see Duling 1985). Josephus attests that Essenes had a strong interest in “the works of the ancients, especially selecting those for the benefit of the soul and body; thus with these they search out roots, remedies, and properties of stones for treatment of diseases” (J.W. 2.136), but such medicines were apparently used with angelology in caring for the sick (J.W. 2.122; cf. Philo, Prob. 87; Hypoth. 11.13; see Taylor 2012: 304–40). Such lore is found throughout the Testament of Solomon, in which specific interrogations of named demons and the revelations of named angels that thwart them are linked with various ailments. Josephus’ works incidentally contain details about healing practices and medicines (see Kottek 1994). For example, when Josephus describes the conquest of the eastern Dead Sea, he digresses to note a giant rue grown in Machaerus and the efficacious (mandrake) root and hot baths at Baaras (= Wadi Zarqa Main; J.W. 7.178–84; see Taylor 2012: 315–18). Therapeutic immersion or bathing in springs around the Dead Sea (at Callirhoe and Baaras) is evidenced in Josephus, who also indicates that the waters were drunk (J.W. 1.657–659, cf. Ant. 17.169–176). This spa culture of healing waters and springs, from Panias to the Dead Sea, continued into late Roman times (Dvorjetski 2007), and connects Judean practice with Hellenistic, since at the great Asclepion in Pergamum there was a spring feeding a stepped pool (still extant) used for healing baths and tonics (Aelius Aristides, Orationes 39). 478

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This association is found in the stories of Jesus healing at the pools of Bethesda (John 5:1–9) and Siloam (John 9:1–11) in Jerusalem. At Bethesda, there was apparently a belief that healing could take place in the waters when they moved, and at Siloam a blind man is cured after he uses the pool to wash off mud Jesus has made with spit and earth and placed on his eyes. Archaeology indicates how the waters stirred up in Bethesda took place when a sluice gate between two pools was removed, allowing pure water from one to flow into the other (Gibson 2009: 59–80). That Siloam was called Solomon’s Pool by Josephus (J.W. 5.145) may be telling; in the Wisdom of Solomon (7:20) it is part of Solomon’s wisdom (scientific knowledge) to understand “varieties of plants and the virtues of roots” for healing. The Dead Sea Scrolls indicate a knowledge of exorcistic angelology/demonology (1QapGen xx 12–29; 4Q242; 4Q560; 4Q510–511; 5Q14; 11Q5 xxvii 9–10; 11Q11; Brayer 1964; Fröhlich 2011; Stuckenbruck 2017: 161–86). In addition, bathing or immersion is linked with ceremonies of healing in 4Q512 and 4Q514. The medicinal properties of a caper bush and a honey are referred to in 4Q386 1 ii 5. Healing here functions in concert with a belief in the prophylactic power of righteousness and purity (see Taylor 2012: 328–30). In the Book of Watchers of 1 Enoch pharmacological expertise is said to have its origin in the visitation of the Watchers, who taught their human wives to “chop up roots and plants” for medicines and cosmetics (1 En. 7:1; 8:3, cf. 4Q201 iv 1–6; 4Q202 iii 1–6). In the Book of Jubilees it is Noah who learns about medicines (10:13–17). Jubilees 21:10 references both the Books of Enoch and Noah, and thus Stone (2010: 44–45) suggests that there was a lost Book of Noah that dealt with medical lore (cf. 1Q19 and 1Q19bis), witnessed also in the much later Book of Asaph the Physician, which is defined as a “book of remedies which ancient sages copied from the book of Shem ben Noah, which was transmitted to Noah on Mount Lubar, one of the mountains of Ararat, after the flood.” Here, the medical knowledge is received from the angel Raphael (meaning “God heals”; cf. the angel’s role in the book of Tobit), and there are many references to pharmaceuticals also attested in Greek and Latin texts (Newmyer 1993). Against those who questioned the use of medicinal remedies and the consultation of a doctor (cf. 2 Chr 16:12; 1 En. 8:3), Ben Sira offers a vigorous defense of consulting a doctor (ἰατρός, iatros) and the use of medicines (φάρμακα, pharmaka), arguing that these were created by God (Sir 38:1–15; Stuckenbruck 2017: 121–23). Jewish medical lore of the Second Temple period continues also in the materia medica of the Cairo Genizah, which contains numerous documents dealing with pharmacology and which can be shown to relate to what was known in Greco-Roman and contemporaneous Arab medicine, allowing for a comprehensive study of what medicines were used for different ailments (Lev and Amar 2008).

Bibliography D. C. Duling, “The Eleazar Miracle and Solomon’s Magical Wisdom in Flavius Josephus,’ Antiquitates Judaicae 8.42–49,” HTR 78 (1985): 1–25. E. Dvorjetski, Leisure, Pleasure and Healing: Spa Culture and Medicine in Ancient Eastern Mediterranean, JSJSup 116 (Leiden: Brill, 2007). I. Fröhlich, “Medicine and Magic in the Genesis Apocryphon. Ideas on Human Conception and its Hindrances,” RQ 25 (2011): 177–98.

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S. Gibson, The Final Days of Jesus: The Archaeological Evidence (New York: HarperCollins, 2009). E. Lev and Z. Amar, Practical Materia Medica of the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean according to the Cairo Genizah, Sir Henry Wellcome Asian Series 7 (Leiden: Brill, 2008). S. Newmyer, “Asaph the Jew and Greco-Roman Pharmaceutics,” in The Healing Past: Pharmaceuticals in the Biblical and Rabbinic World, ed. Irene Jacob and Walter Jacob, Studies in Ancient Medicine 9 (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 107–20. JOAN E. TAYLOR

Related entries: Astronomy and Astrology; Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Celsus the Physician; Demons and Exorcism; Disability; Fallen Angels; Healing; Magic and Divination; Sickness and Disease.

Megasthenes Megasthenes was a Greek ethnographer and diplomat in the entourage of one of Alexander the Great’s officers, Sibyrtius, and later a companion of Seleucus Nicator. Sibyrtius took over the satrapies of Arachosia and Gedrosia in 324 bce, and probably from 320 bce dispatched Megasthenes on several diplomatic missions to the Indian dynast Chandragupta, founder of the Mauryan Empire. Megasthenes’ lost work, the Indica, which derives from his travels, forms the basis for early Greek knowledge of the subcontinent, but is preserved only through eight testimonia and 34 fragments in the works of Diodorus, Strabo, Josephus, Pliny, Aelian, Arrian, and Clement. In referring to the antiquity of Jewish philosophy, the work contains one of the earliest citations of the word Ioudaiōn (Ἰουδαἱων) to be found in the Greek corpus (Frag. 3a = Clement, Strom. 1.72.4), demonstrating that despite his focus on Indian matters, Megasthenes was also familiar with Jewish culture and writings. However, it is uncertain whether, like Clearchus of Soli (ap. Diog. Laert. 1.9; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 179), he intentionally compared Nebuchadnezzar’s western forays (in which the Temple was destroyed) with Alexander’s conquest and destruction of the Indus valley, extending this analysis to connect the antiquity of the Indian Brahmans with that of the Jewish philosophers. Indeed, Fragment 33 (= Strabo 15.1.59 C713), which mirrors Clement, fails to mention the Jews at all.

Bibliography A. B. Bosworth, “The Historical Setting of Megasthenes’ Indica,” CP 91 (1996): 113–27. T. S. Brown, “The Reliability of Megasthenes,” AJP 76 (1955): 18–33. T. S. Brown, “The Merits and Weaknesses of Megasthenes,” Phoenix 11 (1957): 12–24. J. Sachse, Megasthenes o Indiach, Acta Universitatis Wratislawiensis, 587 (Wroclaw: Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego, 1981). A. Zambrini, “Gli Indika di Megastene,” ASNP3 12 (1982): 71–149; ASNP3 15 (1985): 781–853. PAT WHEATLEY

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of.

Megiddo Megiddo is the name of an ancient city of the Bronze and Iron Ages mentioned in Egyptian, Canaanite, Assyrian, and Biblical sources. The city already was identified with the archaeological 480

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site of Tell el-Mutesellim in the Jezreel Valley of northern Israel in the late 19th century. The site, therefore, is now known as Tel Megiddo. The tel is only one component of a larger area of contiguous archaeological remains that can be considered “Greater Megiddo.” Covering more than 4 km2, Greater Megiddo represents nearly continuous occupation from the Chalcolithic period to modern times and incorporates areas that have been known by a number of different ancient toponyms. The long-term success of Megiddo can be attributed to its position in the greater landscape. The site sits on the edge of the fertile Jezreel Valley, which afforded it access to a wide variety of natural resources from nearby marshes, arable land, mountains, and forests. The valley was a hub of international roads connecting regions in the south, especially Egypt, to regions in the north, including Phoenicia and Syria. Megiddo sat on one of the main passes through the Manasseh hills that connected this hub to the coastal plain, positioning itself as the most commanding settlement in the region for most periods. Tel Megiddo was a major center in the Bronze and Iron Ages. In the Early and Middle Bronze it was the seat of a major independent city-state, which came to be dominated by the Egyptians in their imperial expansion in the Late Bronze Age. After two major destructions at the end of the Late Bronze and in the early Iron Age, Megiddo eventually became a royal city of the Israelite kingdom with palaces and a number of specialized buildings that have been interpreted as stables for a significant chariot force. With the annexation of Israel by Tiglath Pileser III in the late 8th century bce, Megiddo was rebuilt as a governing city for the new Assyrian province of Magiddu. The last historical event associated with Megiddo is the death of the Judahite king Josiah in 609 bce (2 Kgs 23:29; 2 Chron 35:20–27) at the hands of the Egyptian king Necho, who exerted influence in the region as the Assyrians became increasingly embroiled in civil wars. Through the Babylonian and Persian periods, Megiddo appears to have continued as a provincial center. Settlement at the site appears to have ceased in the mid-4th century bce, and it is assumed that its destruction and abandonment was connected to the arrival of Alexander the Great and, perhaps, the conquest of Tyre, with which Megiddo may have been associated (Stern 2001). It should be noted, however, that Roman tombs as well as coins representing almost every subsequent period were found on the tel. In the Hellenistic and Early Roman periods, the center of activity in the region migrated several kilometers northward to Geba Hippeon (Tell Abu Shusha), where Josephus reports Herod settled his Cavalry veterans (Josephus, Ant. 15.294; J.W. 3.36). Settlement at Greater Megiddo seems only to have returned in the mid-late 1st century ce with the establishment of Kefar ‘Othnay, a Jewish village located about a kilometer south of Tel Megiddo. References in the Mishnah and Tosefta as well as inscriptions from the site indicate that the population was, in part, Samaritan (Tos. M. Gittin 1:5; Tos. Gittin 1:8; Tos. Demai 5:25) and that it marked the southern boundary of halakah (M. Gittin 7:7; Tepper, David, and Adams 2016). After the revolts of 67 and 117 ce, the Romans deployed the Sixth Legion to Palestine and established a legionary base between Kefar ‘Othnay and Tel Megiddo and remained there, keeping the peace in Galilee until being redeployed to Arabia in the early 4th century (Tepper, David, and Adams 2016). It is likely that the presence of the Sixth Legion here influenced the association of Megiddo with the penultimate battle foretold in Revelation 16:16 at Armageddon (Har Megiddo, “The hill of Megiddo”). 481

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During the 2nd–3rd centuries, the Legionary base functioned along with the organic settlement which grew around it (canibae) and absorbed the village of Kefar ‘Othnay, taking on the name “Caparcotani” in Latin, and Legeon (from Legio) in Greek as it is used by Eusebius (e.g. Eusebius, Onom. 98, 10; 100, 6). Excavations in the village reveal the complex interactions between the Roman soldiers, civilians, pagans, Jews, and early Christians, including a mixture of material cultural remains associated with each group. Significant is the early Christian building dated by the excavators to the 3rd century, containing a mosaic floor with three inscriptions. From the inscriptions indicate that part of the funding came from a Roman centurion, that part was a memorial for three women, and that the carved table at the center of the mosaic was an offering to “God Jesus Christ” (Tepper and Di Segni 2006).

Bibliography E. Stern, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, Volume II: The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 BC.E.) (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001). Y. Tepper, J. David, and M. J. Adams, “Excavations at the Legionary Base of the Roman VIth Legion Ferrata at Legio (el-Lajjun), Israel—A Report on the 2013 Season,” Strata 34 (2016): 91–124. Y. Tepper and L. Di Segni, A Christian Prayer Hall of the 3rd Century CE at Kfar ‘Othnay (Legio). Excavations at the Megiddo Prison 2005 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2006). MATTHEW J. ADAMS

Related entries: Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Josephus, Writings of; Persian Period; Revelation, Book of.

Melchizedek The figure of Melchizedek appears only twice in the Hebrew Bible (Gen 14:14–18; Ps 110:4). Yet Melchizedek’s literary life during the period of Second Temple Judaism (as well as later times) presents some of the period’s most extensive and creative reinterpretations. In Genesis Melchizedek meets briefly with the patriarch Abraham, offering bread and wine and blessing the patriarch in the name of El ʿElyon (‫אל עליון‬, “God Most High”). A tithe is then exchanged between the two; although the text is unclear as to who is the receiving party, most later traditions have interpreted the recipient as Melchizedek, perhaps influenced by the traditional payment of tithe to the Temple and its priesthood. Melchizedek is described as the “priest of God Most High” and the “king of Salem,” presumably Jerusalem, which makes him not only the earliest mentioned priest in the Hebrew Bible but also the first to be associated with a Jerusalem temple in Jerusalem (McNamara 2000: 1–10; Dalgaard 2013: 15–25). This idea of a combined king-priest is also invoked in Psalm 110:4. Here an otherwise unidentified king is guaranteed by Yahweh to be a priest according to the way of Melchizedek. The epigrammatic mention also describes the king as a priest forever, presumably a way of expressing the ancient concept of kings being priests “forever” during their reign—although this eternal element may be the origin of later reinterpretations wherein Melchizedek has become an eternal being (Fitzmyer 2000: 63–66; Dalgaard 2013: 18–19). In Psalm 110:4 all the narrative elements from the Genesis passage are missing. The connection between the two passages are thus solely the Melchizedek name and the combination of offices, and it remains impossible to determine which, if any, of the two passages drew on the other. 482

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In several later religious communities, the figure of Melchizedek saw continuous expansion. Within the texts preserved at Qumran one finds the figure as the primary focus of 11QMelchizedek (11Q13). Here Melchizedek serves at God’s heavenly court and as the one who commands the army of angels he will use to liberate the elect “sons of light” at the end of time. A similar angelic Melchizedek may, with various degrees of certainty, also be found in 4Q400–407, 11Q17, and Mas1k (Dalgaard 2013: 47–78). Similarly, in 2 Enoch Melchizedek also serves as a savior figure. But in this narrative (chs. 69–73) he is born as the result of a miraculous result of divine impregnation of Sophonim, the wife of Nir who is Noah’s brother and the high priest. Having been adopted into the priestly family, Melchizedek is at the time of the flood brought to paradise to be trained as a priest by God, destined to return to save his people and the priesthood (Orlov 2000: 23–30; Dalgaard 2013: 94–110). Only in the Epistle to the Hebrews is Melchizedek mentioned in the New Testament. Here Melchizedek is used primarily to facilitate the exaltation of Jesus as the true high priest, superior to the traditional Levitical priesthood, by way of being the first priest in the Hebrew Bible. Melchizedek is presented as an eternal priest who is made like the son of God (7:3), thus appearing as an exalted being (Dalgaard 2013: 110–25). The idea of Melchizedek as an exalted being would become the basis of traditions wherein Melchizedek appears as an angel, the Holy Spirit, the true Son of God, or even as a god (e.g. Melchizedek Tractate, 2 Book of Jeu, Pistis Sophia, Cave of Treasures; cf. Pearson 1998: 180–202; Dalgaard 2013: 171–94). Yet, by contrast, both Philo and Josephus primarily regarded Melchizedek as a historical figure. Philo uses Melchizedek in order to emphasize the importance of such things as the tithe (Congr. 89–99; Leg. 3.79–82; Abr. 235; QG 14:18), although he also refers to Melchizedek as being the Logos (Leg. 82). Josephus refers to Melchizedek as a historical figure twice (J.W. 6.438; Ant. 1.180–181), following the Genesis story closely, but does add that it was none other than Melchizedek who built the First Temple in Jerusalem (Dalgaard 2013: 79–134).

Bibliography K. Dalgaard, Melchizedek: A Priest for All Generations: An Investigation into the Use of the Melchizedek Figure from Genesis to the Cave of Treasures, Publikationer fra Det Teologiske Fakultet 48 (Copenhagen: Det Teologiske Fakultet, 2013). J. A. Fitzmyer, “Melchizedek in the MT, LXX and the NT,” Bib 81 (2000): 63–69. F. L. Horton, The Melchizedek Tradition: A Critical Examination of the Sources to the Fifth Century A.D. and in the Epistle to the Hebrews, SNTSMS 30 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976). M. McNamara, “Melchizedek: Gen 14,17–20 in the Targums, in Rabbinic and Early Christian Literature,” Bib 81 (2000): 1–31. A. A. Orlov, “Melchizedek Legend of 2 (Slavonic) Enoch,” JSJ 31 (2000): 23–38. B. A. Pearson, “Melchizedek in Early Judaism, Christianity, and Gnosticism,” Biblical Figures Outside the Bible (1998), 176–202. A. Wuttke, Melchisedech der Priesterkönig von Salem: Eine Studie zur Geschichte der Exegese, BZNW 5 (Giessen: Verlag von Alfred Töpelmann, 1927). KASPER DALGAARD

Related entries: Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Garden of Eden—Paradise; Genesis, Book of; Hebrews; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Mediator Figures; Melchizedek Scroll (11Q13); Levites; Psalms, Book of; Sacrifices and Offerings; Tithing. 483

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Meleager of Gadara Meleager of Gadara (flor. ca. 90 bce) was a Greek poet, satirist, and Cynic philosopher. In youth, he moved to Tyre (AP 7.417–419, 428), possibly, a consequence of Alexander Jannaeus’ campaigns near Gadara (c. 102/1 bce). His Cynic reputation (DL vi. 99) rested on his lost seriocomic satires (Ath. XI. 107), written in the style of Menippus of Gadara (AP vii. 418). There he jocularly treated Homer as a fellow Syrian (Ath. IV. 45). In his surviving epigrams, Meleager describes the multiethnic (πάμφυλος, pamphulos) society of Greek Syria (AP xii. 157) and the Cynic concept of the cosmos as “a single fatherland (vii. 417). Similarly, he greets readers of his imaginary epitaph not only in Greek (χαῖρε, chaire) but also in Aramaic (σαλάμ, salam) and Phoenician (ναίδιος, naidios > ναίμιος†/αὐδονίς†), imitating multilingual inscriptions of the region (vii. 419). He probably encountered Jews in Gadara, but first noted their customs during his stay in Tyre, where he satirized Demo, a local friend or courtesan, who would not join him because she was detained by “a desire to observe the Sabbath” (σαββατικὸς ... πόθος, sabbatikos … pothos), or less likely, “a desire of a Sabbath observer.” Meleager responds that even “on cold Sabbaths there is hot love” (v. 160). He is thus the earliest classical author aware of the Sabbath prohibition against kindling fire (Exod 35:3)—and perhaps of the injunction to observe conjugal relations on its eve (m. Ketub. 5:9). Although some Jewish sects of his time had forbidden intercourse throughout the Sabbath (Jub. 50:8), Meleager’s joke makes sense in the light of Talmudic injunctions, supposedly based on the Bible (b. B. Qam. 82a).

Bibliography K. R. Höschele, “‘If I am from Syria—So What?’ Meleager’s Cosmopoetics,” in Belonging and Isolation in the Hellenistic World, ed. S. L. Ager and R. A. Faber (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2013), 19–32. MENAHEM LUZ

Related entries: Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism.

Menorah The menorah (Heb. pl. ‫מנורות‬, menôrôt) is a seven-branched golden candelabrum referred to in the Book of Exodus among the descriptions of the tabernacle (Exod 25:31–40, 37:17–24). It was a unique lamp used for ritual purposes that figures in various literary traditions of the Hebrew Bible, including the Pentateuch (cf. also Exod 26:35; 30:27; 31:8; 35:14; 39:37; 40:4, 24; Lev 24:4; Num 3:31; 4:9; 8:2–4), the prophets (Zech 4:2, 11), and the writings (1 Chr 28:15; 2 Chr 13:11; Hachlili 2001: 7–40). Candelabra of this sort are similar to ancient sacred furniture and accessories found in other religious institutions in the ancient Near East in the Iron Age. Lampstands were symbolic of divine power, energy, and life in the Hebrew Bible. According to 1 Kings 7:49 (cf. 2 Chr 4:7), there were ten in Solomon’s Temple, with five on each side of the building; in addition, there was perhaps one in the Holy of Holies that represented the tabernacle menorah (cf. 1 Kgs 8:4), making a total of eleven. The destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 586 bce may have resulted in the loss of these multiple golden lampstands.

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With respect to the Second Temple, it is difficult to know how many menorot were used. During Antiochus Epiphanes’ infamous campaign in Jerusalem ca. 167 bce, a menorah was damaged (1 Macc 1: 21) but then restored by Judas Maccabeus (1 Macc 4:48–50). Referring to this restoration, Josephus states, “And when he had carefully purified it, he brought in new vessels, such as a menorah, table, and altar, which were made of gold …. They kindled the lights on the menorah and burned incense on the altar” (Ant. 12.318–319). However, in an earlier episode, Josephus (Ant. 12.250) mentions that Antiochus carried off “the vessels of God, the golden lampstands (plural), and the golden altar and table,” implying that there may have been different lampstands in use in the Second Temple (Sperber 1965: 136). When Pompey visited the Temple (apparently the Holy of Holies) in 63 bce, Josephus (Ant. 14.72) suggests that there is one menorah (mentioned in the singular). Again, in recounting the destruction of Herod’s Temple in Jerusalem, Josephus refers to only one candelabrum (J.W. 5.216; 7.148; cf. also Heb 9:2). By the 1st century ce the menorah had become a symbol, the significance of which went beyond its functional use in the Temple (Goodenough 1950–1951: 451–452, e.g., symbol for the tree of life). Philo of Alexandria (Her. 218–223) shows how philosophically the elements of seven branches and the decorations of the biblical menorah were being interpreted. This symbolic interpretation continues in the New Testament book of Revelation where the “lampstands”— mentioned in the plural—have been transformed into an elaborate symbol of the developing faith community (Rev 1:12, 20; 2:1), with the singular applied to the “church in Ephesus” (Rev 2:5). The earliest illustrations of the menorah are found on a Mattathias Antigonus coin (40–37 bce, Figure 4.74) and on a graffito at the Jerusalem tomb of Jason that depicts a seven-branched menorah with a cone-like base. This is perhaps the basis for the illustration of the menorah found on the Arch of Titus, albeit there it is enhanced with symbolic decorations (Freund 2004: 294– 296; Hachlili 2001: 46–51; Fine 2016: 1–41). Starting in the post-70 ce period, the menorah’s base is configured either as a tripod or as a box-like structure (Sperber 1969). On the murals of the 3rd-century ce Dura Europos Synagogue in Syria, multiple murals present the base of the menorah as a tripod (Fine 2016: 56). During the post-70 ce period, the menorah acquired multiple meanings for Jews. Vessels from the Temple rituals (menorah, etrog, lulav, shofar, incense shovel, amphorae) are used by rabbinic Jews as decorations on floors and walls of synagogues, apparently to reinforce the idea that the synagogue was the successor to the Temple (Hachlili 2001: 207–8). By the 2nd and 3rd

Figure 4.74  Mattatayah Antigonus (Menorah) Coin (40–37 bce).

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centuries ce the menorah morphed into an independent symbol which became representative for Jewish heritage (e.g. in tombs, memorials, and catacombs) and came to express a more nuanced theological idea of the soul, redemption, and afterlife (Wirgin 1961, 1962; Hachlili 2001: 171–210). The way the menorah is configured, whether with a tripod or box-like base and however many arms it is given (with five, six, seven, or even more), may reflect a rabbinic internal debate among Jews on how closely Temple symbols should be copied in synagogue life. The rabbinic tradition of the Babylonian Talmud preserves an explanation for some of the changes in the menorah’s presentation. Some rabbis desired that menorot outside the Temple be slightly different from those used in the actual Temple. The Babylonian Talmud preserves a tradition in several passages (b. ʿAbod. Zar. 43a; b. Menaḥ. 28b; b. Roš. Haš. 24a,b) that “a person may not make … a menorah after the design of the [Temple’s] menorah. One may, however, make one with five, six, or eight branches, but with seven he may not make it even though it be made of other metals.” The use of the menorah as the preferred symbol of the Jewish people is, beginning in the Byzantine period, readily found throughout the Jewish diaspora on tombs, synagogues, ceramic oil lamps, glassware, mosaics, seals, stamps, amulets, and jewelry (Hachlili 2001: 41–120).

Bibliography R. A. Freund, “The Mystery of the Menorah and the Star,” in Nationalism, Zionism and Ethnic Mobilization of the Jews in 1900 and Beyond, ed. M. Berkowitz, IJS Studies in Judaica 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 285–303. E. R. Goodenough, “The Menorah among Jews of the Roman World,” HUCA 23 (1950–1951): 449–92. R. Hachlili, The Menorah, the Ancient Seven-armed Candelabrum: Origin, Form and Significance, JSJSup 68 (Leiden: Brill, 2001). E. Sperber, “The History of the Menorah,” JJS 16 (1965): 135–39. E. Sperber, “Between Jerusalem and Rome: The History of the Base of the Menorah as Depicted on the Arch of Titus,” in In the Light of the Menorah, Story of a Symbol, ed. Y. Israeli, The Israel Museum Catalogue 425 (Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 1999), 50–53. W. Wirgin, “On the Shape of the Foot of the Menorah,” IEJ 7 (1961): 151–53. W. Wirgin, “The Menorah as Symbol of Judaism,” IEJ 12 (1962): 140–42. RICHARD A. FREUND

Related entries: Burial Practices; Holiness; Josephus, Writings of; Sages; Seals and Seal Impressions.

Merkabah Mysticism and Hekhalot Texts Summary.  Merkabah mysticism is an accepted scholarly description for a mystical expression found in poetical writings and mystical narratives mainly concerned with the heavenly world and its angelic inhabitants. This mystical corpus, commonly known as Hekhalot (heavenly sanctuaries) literature and the Merkabah (chariot of the cherubim) tradition, includes such tracts as Hekhalot Rabbati, Hekhalot Zutarti, Sefer Hekhalot (3 Enoch), Ma’aseh Merkabah, Merkabah Rabbah, Sar Torah, and Shi’ur Qomah (see Schäfer 1981). All these and a few other writings were written in a distinct idiom of Hebrew and Aramaic. Mostly composed in the land of Israel during the 1st millennium ce, they attempt to transcend the borders of heaven and earth, describe a mystical ascent known as “descent to the chariot” (Kuyt 1995; Davila 2001), and focus on the world of the angels (Elior 1993; Schäfer 1992; Ahuvia 2014) while reflecting a meta-historical perception

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of history (Dan 1989: 47–57; Dan 1993). The precise date for the composition of these writings has been a subject of much debate; however, the names of the earthly protagonists (i.e. the sages R. Akiva, R. Ishmael the high priest, and R. Nehunia ben ha-Kanneh) suggest a chronologicalcultural affiliation to the world of the sages of the Mishnah, the Talmud, and midrashim of the Roman-Byzantine period after the destruction of the Second Temple. It is commonly assumed that these names do not refer to the well-known literary historical personages who lived during the late 1st and early 2nd centuries ce and who were associated with mystical ascent and discourse with angels (m. Ḥag. 2:1, t. Ḥag. 2:1–7; j. Ḥag. 77a–d; b. Ḥag. 11b–16a; b. Ber. 7a; cf. Halperin 1980; Chernus 1982), but rather to their literary transformation into representations of martyrs and mystics, a change that presumably occurred in the second third of the 1st millennium. Visionaries.  R. Akiva and R. Ishmael the high priest, the two distinguished mystics and martyrs of the Merkabah mystical tradition, describe a new vertical affiliation between earth and heaven following the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce, a link made possible through mystical circles known as the “descenders to the chariot” (Yordei Merkabah) who have access to the seven heavenly sanctuaries, Hekhalot, where the angels perpetuate the sevenfold divine liturgy. The descenders to the chariot initiated this vertical mystical affiliation upon ascending in their spirit to the seven celestial sanctuaries, in order to testify to the continuation of divine worship in the heavenly sanctuaries. The adepts aspired to observe the eternal angelic worship, to behold the Lord upon the celestial throne, and to recount their heavenly visions to their companions. Merkabah mysticism preserves the Temple service by recovering liturgy, prayer, and song from the realm of space and time: the Temple or Hekhal (a singular of the plural Hekhalot) has been uplifted to the heavens, where angels serve as priests in supernal temples, with the rituals described in terms of those associated with the earthly Temple. The major protagonists of Hekhalot literature describe their mystical experiences and misadventures as they ascend in spirit and transcend the borders of mundane time and space to the seven heavenly Hekhalot or descend to the Merkabah. Both Hekhalot and Merkabah constitute the invisible world of the ministering angels, which also includes the heavenly throne where an unprecedented divine entity, known as Shi’ur Qomah (the “Infinite Measure of the Immeasurable”; see Dan 1979: 67–73; Cohen 1983), is encircled by holy creatures, sanctifying cherubim, and singing ministering angels. Second Temple Background.  The foundation for some of these mystical concepts is ultimately found in the vision of the chariot as recorded by the prophet-priest Ezekiel (Ezek chs. 1, 8 and 10), which was further developed in the vision of Enoch (1 En. 14:8–25; cf. also ch. 71), the descriptions of angels in Jubilees (Jub. 2:2–3, 18–21, 30), and the description of the seven firmaments with seven chariots in Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (Boustan 2004: 195–212; Elior 2006a; Alexander 2006; Davila 2006). The heavenly throne described in a few verses of various biblical passages (Isa 6; Ezek 1:26; 10:1; Ps 47:9; Dan 7:9–12) is given more detail in the mystical texts of 1 Enoch and Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice. All these sources, found in the priestly library near Qumran, were concerned with heavenly sanctuaries, heavenly chariots, the heavenly throne, and angelic liturgy and were composed during the late 1st millennium bce (Schiffman 1982, 1994; Elior 2004). In addition to their priestly interest in celestial worship, they espoused a pre-calculated solar calendar of 364 days (Elior 2006b: 749–91).

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Features.  The Merkabah mysticism of the later Roman-Byzantine period continued the earlier descriptions of sacred place, time, and ritual. Taken up in the later Hekhalot literature, its interest in the celestial world included speculation concerning the divine in anthropomorphic terms. In addition, descriptions of ascents through heavenly sanctuaries are accompanied by the mention of divine and angelic names, sometimes invoked within the context of magical adjurations (Lesses 1998; Bohak 2008: 170–75). The further concern with divine liturgy brought the detailed angelology to bear on elements of the sanctus prayer of the synagogue, inspired by the priestly service in the Jerusalem Temple. The knowledge and experience of the heavenly spheres were not available to everyone. Human beholders could only gain access to the concealed world of the chariot under extraordinary circumstances. Such circumstances are related in the story of “the ten martyrs” (Reeg 1985; Boustan 2005) and are reflected in the story of “the four who had entered paradise” (b. Ḥag. 14b–15a), a narrative that is retold in a number of other Hekhalot sources (Halperin 1980). R. Akiva and R. Ishmael the high priest, being among the ten martyrs executed by the Romans in the time of the Bar Kokhba revolt (132–136 ce), are dialectically depicted as having experienced mystical ascent (descent) to the Merkabah and ascent to the seven heavenly sanctuaries. Having become “beholders of the chariot,” they return from heaven to earth with knowledge of the future that they learned from angels, as well as knowledge of elements of the angelic liturgy itself. All heavenly knowledge, visible or audible, is gained through the mystical journey by following ascetic procedures, through singing and chanting, through visions, or through the use of magical formulae. In the main, it is mediated through angelic beings, often by Enoch-Metatron (Elior 2002; Orlov 2005), who functioned as a scribe of the priestly tradition and as the humanangelic vice regent in Hekhalot literature (Odeberg 1973; Alexander 1983). The “beholders of the Chariot” are instructed time and again by the angels to write down all that they had been shown in the heavenly realm and all that they hear from the singing and reciting angels. The instruction to write is striking, given the prohibition of further writings among rabbinic sages following the canonization of the Bible. The rabbis’ relegation of 1 Enoch and Jubilees to being apocryphal literature reflected their aim to proscribe any discussion and speculation concerning the angelic world. Thus various Hekhalot books ascribed to R. Akiva and R. Ishmael the high priest needed to find validation, namely in the claim that their written testimony comes from heaven. The angelic liturgy brought from heaven to earth by the “descenders of the chariot” in this written form was to be incorporated into the earthly synagogue’s liturgy. The Qedusha prayer (sanctus), which unites angelic liturgy with human prayer at fixed times, acquired a particular importance in both the liturgy of the synagogue and in Merkabah mysticism (Swartz 1991). Merkabah Mysticism and Rabbinic Literature.  Merkabah mysticism, along with its antecedents, ran counter to the worldview of the rabbis. The rabbis adopted the ever-changing luni-solar calendar that commenced in the autumn and was based on human observation and judicial decision. They rejected the angelic-priestly pre-calculated fixed biblical solar calendar of a 364day year, of which the first month occurred in the spring (Exod 12:2). They further rejected Enoch son of Jared (Gen 5:21–24), the arch-hero of the priestly literature that sanctified the solar calendar as was found among the Qumran scrolls (Jub. 4; 1 En. 72–82; 1QS ix 25–x 8), describing him in disparaging terms (b. Ḥag. 15a; Ber. Rab. 5: 24; Tg. Onq. to Gen 5:24). On 488

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the other hand, it is Enoch, the protagonist of the solar calendar (1 En. 72–82, Jub. 4), the first beholder of the vision of the chariot (1 En. 14), and the first human being who learned to read and write (Jub. 4), who functions, sometimes coalesced with Metatron, as a major angelic figure in Hekhalot literature. In Sefer Hekhalot (3 Enoch), he is newly proclaimed as “Enoch-Metatron the prince of the Presence,” and in various other Hekhalot texts he is described as a heavenly high priest, a teacher of reading and writing in the celestial shrines, and as the heavenly guide of R. Ishmael the high priest. Conclusion.  The Merkabah mysticism preserved in Hekhalot literature offers evidence for the existence of priestly mystical circles following the destruction of the Temple who placed their focus on celestial rather than earthly worship. Insofar as these circles were associated with the synagogue, they sought to perpetuate the lost divine worship of the priesthood of the Temple in two integrated ways: in the perpetual angelic liturgy in the world of the chariot and in the eternal daily prayer cycles in the synagogue. They believed in ongoing angelic revelation, in eternal angelic ritual, and in sacred angelic authority. They devoted their efforts to promote common human-angelic liturgy in the synagogue that was called “small temple,” while commemorating the eternal angelic liturgy in the seven heavenly sanctuaries above.

Bibliography M. Ahuvia, “Israel among the Angels: Angels and Authority in Late Antique Jewish Texts” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2014). P. S. Alexander, “3  (Hebrew Apocalypse of) Enoch: A New Translation and Introduction,” OTP 1 (1983): 223–302. R. Boustan, From Martyr to Mystic: Rabbinic Martyrology and the Making of Merkavah Mysticism, TSAJ 112 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005). I. Chernus, Mysticism in Rabbinic Judaism: Studies in the History of Midrash (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1982). M. S. Cohen, The Shi’ur Qomah. Liturgy and Theurgy in Pre-Kabbalistic Jewish Mysticism (Lanham: University Press of America, 1983). J. Dan, “The Concept of History in Hekhalot and Merkabah Literature,” in Binah—Studies in Jewish History, Thought and Culture, ed. J. Dan, vol. 1 (New York: Praeger, 1989), 47–57. J. Dan, The Ancient Jewish Mysticism (Tel Aviv: MOD Books, 1993). J. Dan, “The Concept of Knowledge in the Shiur Qomah,” in Studies in Jewish Religious and Intellectual History Presented to Alexander Altmann, ed. S. Stein and R. Loewe (Alabama: University of Alabama Press 1979), 67–73. J. R. Davila, Descenders to the Chariot: The People behind the Hekhalot Literature, JSJSup 70 (Leiden: Brill, 2001). J. R. Davila, “The Ancient Jewish Apocalypses and the Hekhalot Literature,” in Paradise Now: Essays on Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism, ed. A. D. DeConick, SBLSym 11 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006), 105–25. R. Elior, “Mysticism, Magic, and Angelology: The Perception of Angels in Hekhalot Literature,” JSQ 1.1 (1993): 3–53. R. Elior, “Enoch Son of Jared and the Solar Calendar of the Priesthood in Qumran,” in Von Enoch bis Kafka: Festschrift fur K. E. Grozinger zum 60 Geburstag, ed. M. Voigts (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2002), 25–42. R. Elior, The Three Temples (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilisation, 2004).

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R. Elior, “The Foundations of Early Jewish Mysticism: The Lost Calendar and the Transformed Heavenly Chariot,” in Wege Mystischer Gotteserfahrung: Judentum, Christentum und Islam / Mystical Approaches to God: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, ed. P. Schäfer (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006a), 1–18. R. Elior, “Early Forms of Jewish Mysticism,” in Cambridge History Series: Jewish History: The Late Roman Period, ed. S. Katz (Cambridge University Press, 2006b), 749–91. D. J. Halperin, The Merkabah in Rabbinic Literature (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1980). A. Kuyt, The ‘Descent’ to the Chariot. Towards a Description of the Terminology, Place, Function and Nature of the YERIDAH in Hekhalot Literature, TSAJ 45 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1995). R. M. Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power: Angels, Incantations, and Revelation in Early Jewish Mysticism (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998). H. Odeberg, 3 Enoch: or, The Hebrew book of Enoch (New York: Ktav Pub. House, 1973). G. Reeg, Die Geschichte von den Zehn Martyrern, TSAJ 10 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1985). P. Schäfer, Synopse zur Hekhalot Literatur, TSAJ 2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981). P. Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God: Some Major Themes in Early Jewish Mysticism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992). L. Schiffman, “Merkavah Speculation at Qumran: The 4Q Serekh Shirot ‘Olat haShabbat’?” in Mystics, Philosophers, and Politicians, ed. J. Reinhartz and D. Swetschinski (Durham: Duke University Press, 1982), 15–47. M. D. Swartz, Mystical Prayer in Ancient Judaism. An Analysis of MAʿASEH MERKABAH, TSAJ 28 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991). RACHEL ELIOR

Related entries: Ascent into Heaven; Asceticism; Calendars; Martyrdom; Midrash; Mystery; Mystery Religion, Judaism as; Talmud, Babylonian; Talmud, Jerusalem; Sages; Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice; Tosefta.

Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia At the beginning of the Second Temple period, the imperial power in the eastern part of the world was the Achaemenid Empire (538–322 bce), a large empire that centered on Persia, included all of Mesopotamia, and reached from Asia Minor to Egypt to the Caucasus to India (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). This empire spurred trade and migration throughout its region and engaged repeatedly in land and sea warfare against Greek city-states. Although Greek historiographic traditions villainize the Achaemenid or Persian Empire, it endured for more than two centuries and provided relative stability and cultural cosmopolitanism (Lenfant 2007), and also served as the basis for Near Eastern political economy for centuries to come, including the majority of the Second Temple period. The Mesopotamian “Fertile Crescent” was home to numerous civilizations and city-states that predated the Achaemenid Empire. Of particular note is the Akkadian Empire, centered in Mesopotamia (modern Iraq), which flourished from 2334 bce to 2154 bce. This empire united the area of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers in shared language, a relatively high rate of literacy, communication grids, economic linkages, and common culture. In its wake, the Akkadian Empire was succeeded by its city-states, especially Assyria and Babylon. Assyria grew in influence along the northern Mesopotamian region, along the Tigris River, whereas Babylon’s presence was focused just south, along the Euphrates River. Assyria maintained a series of coalitions, alliances, and dominations among city-states, culminating in the Neo-Assyrian

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Empire (911–619 bce), which was a significant political power during the period of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah as recounted in the Hebrew Bible. During the Second Temple period, it could furnish a fictive context in which accounts of Jewish piety would be narrativized with chronological and geographical anachronisms (cf. the Book of Tobit chs. 1, 6, and 14; Fitzmyer 2003: 32–33, 52–53). The Assyrian Empire defeated the northern Kingdom of Israel in 722 bce. From 619–538 bce, the Neo-Babylonian Empire was ascendant, and grew to include almost all of the Mesopotamian region, as well as areas now designated as Syria and northern Saudi Arabia. Babylonia’s military efforts extended westward and southward to engage Egypt, and the Neo-Babylonian Empire conquered the southern Kingdom of Judah in 587 bce, after decades of vassal relations. Neither the Assyrian nor Babylonian Empires had controlled the areas or Media or Persia. The Medes had ruled their own empire during 678–549 bce, covering most of ancient Persia (including modern-day Iran and parts of Turkey). In 550 bce, a Persian king named Cyrus conquered Media, and eventually extended his rule by conquering the Neo-Babyonian Empire in 538 bce, forming the Achaemenid Empire (named after Achaemenes, Cyrus’ family name). Of course, it is the periods covered by the Babylonian, Media, and early Persian Empires that shaped, through composition and editing, much literature that would become part of the Hebrew Bible (e.g. so-called “exilic” writings and traditions) and continue to be avidly received and shaped well after the 4th century bce. In addition, this time would be “remembered” in court tales and works concerned with the vicissitudes and exemplary piety of Jews in works like Esther and Daniel (chs. 1–6), the latter of which, together with similar compositions (e.g. Prayer of Nabonidus [4Q242]; Judeans at the Persian Court [4Q550a-e]), is preserved among the Dead Sea Scrolls. During the Achaemenid period, the empire was involved in continuing battles and wars along its western front with Greek city-states. Eventually, Philip II of Macedon (382–336 bce) united several of the Greek city-states into more effective resistance to Persian forces. His son and successor, Alexander III of Macedon (also known as “the Great”) (356–323 bce), led Greece to defeat the Achaemenid Empire in 332 bce and named himself King of Persia, King of Asia, and Pharaoh of Egypt, as well as King of Macedonia. In subsequent years, Greeks governed a large territory that included much of the former Achaemenid Empire as well as much of the region of the Eastern Mediterranean Sea. Historians usually refer to this as the Hellenistic world, including strong and enduring dynasties such as the Ptolemies in Egypt, who governed areas of northeastern Africa and into the eastern Mediterranean, and the Seleucids in Babylonia, who ruled much of the territory of the former Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid Empires throughout the Middle East. After 63 bce, most of these regions were under control of the Roman Republic and subsequent Roman Empire, although Babylonia became part of the Parthian Empire from 150 bce to 226 ce. During the Achaemenid Empire, the Zoroastrian religion began and spread from Persia to influence religious thought through much of the Middle East. Zoroaster (traditionally 628–551 bce) taught the existence of good and evil gods, with the good deities leading humanity into good thoughts, words, and actions, which together are to be understood as truth and wisdom. According to many historians and scholars of religion, these concepts of dualism and ethical wisdom influenced many of the religions from the Achaemenid Empire and extended into the broader Hellenistic world and were thus substantive influences on the range of Second Temple religion (cf. the discussion by Grabbe 2004: 361–64). 491

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At the beginning of the Second Temple period, the worship of YHWH was practiced only among small groups of Jews in Jerusalem as well as in Egypt and in the exiled community in Babylonia. However, the Achaemenid imperial practices allowed relative freedom of migration throughout the empire and also sponsored a form of politically expedient religious pluralism (Fitzpatrick-McKinley 2016). This allowed the nascent Judaism of the early Second Temple to flourish in multiple locations, known eventually as the diaspora. Long after the end of the forced exile of Jews in Babylon, a vibrant Jewish community remained in the Mesopotamian region, in close to constant contact with Jewish communities in Jerusalem and elsewhere. Some of the late portions of the Hebrew Bible almost certainly reflect this Babylonian context or at least awareness of Babylonian Jewish life. This Babylonian Jewish community generated significant Jewish thought and reflection, leading to the writings known as the Talmud in the 3rd century ce.

Bibliography A. Fitzpatrick-McKinley, “Continuities between Assyrian and Persian Policies toward the Cults of Their Subjects,” in Religion in the Aechemenid Persian Empire, ed. D. Edelman, A. Fitzpatrick-McKinley, and P. Guillaume, ORA 17 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 137–71. D. Lenfant, “Greek Historians of Persia,” in A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography, ed. J. Marincola, 2 vols. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 1:200–9. JON L. BERQUIST

Related entries: Alexander the Great; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Babylonian Culture; Court Tales; Cyrus the Great; Esther, Book of; Greece and the Aegean; Parthians; Persian Religion; Talmud, Babylonian; Tobit, Book of.

Messiah “Messiah” is an English transliteration of Hebrew ‫משיח‬, mšyḥ, Aramaic ‫משיחא‬, mšyḥʾ, or Greek μεσσίας, messias (the latter itself a transliteration from Hebrew), a passive verbal adjective from the root ‫משח‬, mšḥ, “to anoint,” thus “anointed,” or as a substantive “anointed one.” Beginning with the Septuagint translators in the 3rd century bce, most Greek sources use the equivalency χριστός, christos (from the verb χρίω, chrio, “to smear, anoint”), whence comes the English transliteration “Christ” (but cf. Aquila’s preference for the synonym ἀλείφω, aleiphō, and cognates). In the Second Temple period, therefore, the terms “messiah” and “Christ” were formally identical. The flood of Christian literature in late antiquity changed this semantic state of affairs, of course, but that development lies beyond the scope of this article. The historical understanding of messiah discourse in the Second Temple period is sorely complicated by later developments, in particular, first, the centuries-long Christian use of the term for Jesus of Nazareth and, second, the modern appropriation of the term for end-time heroes of various kinds (Horbury 1998). Both of these later developments are interesting in their own right, and both derive indirectly from ancient Jewish usage, but ancient Jewish usage has a logic of its own. In texts from the Second Temple period, talk about messiahs is essentially a Jewish figure of speech for political authority. Due to the cultural memory of an archaic Israelite oil ritual, to speak of a person, real or imagined, as being “anointed” was an ancient Jewish way of signifying the right to rule (Karrer 1991). One might compare the way Roman writers refer to the fasces, “rods,” as a figure of speech for the authority of their rulers (Novenson 2017).

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Nineteenth- and early-20th-century scholarship produced a number of magisterial syntheses of “the messianic idea in Judaism,” an influential modern construct that did important ideological work for both Jewish and Christian scholars (e.g. Klausner 1955, Mowinckel 1956, Scholem 1977). The discovery and publication of the Dead Sea Scrolls, however, effectively exploded these older syntheses. With their numerous references to several different messiahs (on which see Collins 2010), the sectarian Scrolls confirmed what the hitherto familiar but scanty evidence (e.g. 1 En. 46–49; 4 Ezra 7; 12; 2 Bar. 29–30; 39–40; 70–72) might already have suggested (see, e.g., Gressmann 1929), namely that there was no one messianic idea in ancient Judaism but rather a cluster of related but distinct scriptural manners of speaking (see Neusner, Green, and Frerichs 1987; Charlesworth 1992). The several types of messiahs attested in ancient Jewish texts are commonly classified, not unreasonably, under the headings “royal,” “priestly,” “prophetic,” and “heavenly” (see, e.g., Collins 2010). These headings roughly correspond to the several classes of persons called “anointed” in the Jewish scriptures: kings (e.g. 1 Sam 16; 2 Sam 23; Pss 18; 89; 132; Lam 4:20), priests (e.g. Lev 4; Dan 9), and in a few instances prophets (e.g. Ps 105). (The notion of a heavenly messiah arguably derives from a conflation of angelic motifs with royal ones, which is presaged in Dan 7 and developed in 1 En. 46–49.) It is understandable, then, that ancient Jewish writers would perpetuate these scriptural categories while also extending them in new directions (e.g. king messiah in Pss. Sol. 17; king messiah and priest messiah in 1QS ix and perhaps also in CD; prophet messiah in John 6–7; heavenly messiah in Parables of Enoch) (Oegema 1998). It is a commonplace in the secondary literature to say that in early sources “anointed ones” are simply mundane kings and priests and that “messianism in the strict sense” (which is defined variously) emerged relatively late, perhaps in the 1st century bce. This cliché relays an important truth but also obscures a great deal. Early sources use the title “anointed one” for sitting kings and priests, but often with conspicuous mythological overtones (e.g. 1 Sam 2; Ps 2; Isa 45). Later sources use the same term for ideal, imagined figures, but often with reference to particular historical persons such as Jesus of Nazareth and Simon bar Kokhba (e.g. 1 Cor 15; Mark 14; y. Ta‘an. 4:8/27; b. Sanh. 93b) (Oegema 1998). Rather than posit a sharp twofold distinction, one should recognize a range of more and less realist accounts of messiahs. Recent scholarship has rightly emphasized not only the diversity of messiahs in ancient Jewish sources but also their dispensability. That is to say, contrary to an older scholarly consensus, the messiah was not an essential article of faith among Jews in the Second Temple period. Talk about anointed figures was one Jewish way of figuring a political order, but it was not the only way. Nor, for that matter, were all ancient Jewish texts concerned with questions of political order. For those that were, their ancestral traditions offered a number of powerful images and figures of speech. A messiah—a ruler anointed with oil or some figurative unguent (e.g. spirit) signifying divine approbation—was one such image (Novenson 2017).

Bibliography H. Gressmann, Der Messias (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1929). M. Karrer, Der Gesalbte, FRLANT 151 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991). J. Klausner, The Messianic Idea in Israel (New York: Macmillan, 1955). S. Mowinckel, He That Cometh (Nashville: Abingdon, 1956). 493

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M. V. Novenson, The Grammar of Messianism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017). G. S. Oegema, The Anointed and His People (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998). G. Scholem, The Messianic Idea in Judaism (New York: Schocken, 1977). MATTHEW V. NOVENSON

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Daniel, Book of; David; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jesus Movement; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521); Priesthood; Revolt, Second Jewish; Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS+5QS); Sectarianism; Solomon, Psalms of; Son of God; Son of Man.

Messianism The word “messianism,” unknown in antiquity, is a scholarly designation that is applied to Jewish and Christian end-time expectations that include the emergence of a figure of salvation often called “messiah” (Collins 1995: 146). However, some scholars still deny an eschatological component in messianism and instead see the concept behind many authoritative figures in the Hebrew Bible (Saebø 1998: 197–231). Other scholars prefer to reserve the term exclusively for Jesus “the Christ” (ὁ χριστός, ho christos, the Greek equivalent for Hebrew ‫המשיח‬, ha-mašiaḥ) and/or use the term “messianism” only if the title “messiah” is used (Xeravits 1998: 8–9). To the extent that it remains in use, messianism should be understood neither as a closed system of ideas nor as an ideology. Despite the presence of many shared motifs in Second Temple and early Christian literary works, the variety of ideas nonetheless makes the plural “messianic expectations” preferable to the more fixed term “messianism.” The study of the messiah in Jewish tradition has often taken the Christian perspective that Jesus is the Christ as the point of departure. This approach led to a search for parallels that ultimately were evaluated by their conformity to Christian convictions. Propelled in large part by the discovery of the first Qumran manuscripts in 1947, more recent study of messiah figures has resulted in a new trend that attempts to recognize and take seriously the profound diversity of presentation, motifs, and contexts associated with them. The publication of manuscripts from Qumran Caves 1 and 4 shed new light on the diversity and combination of messianic hopes within the Qumran community. These hopes include notions of a royal or national messiah; a (high) priestly messiah; eschatological prophet(s) according to the pattern of Moses, Elijah, or perhaps the Teacher of Righteousness; and expectations surrounding heavenly figures, as described in different literary genres. Among the Qumran texts shaping the new paradigm for research, the Rule of the Community (1QS ix 9–11) and the Rule of the Congregation (1QSa ii 11–22) have played a major role, along with other messianic figures mentioned among the pesharim and two other manuscripts of Cave 4, 4Q174 1–2 i 10–13, and 4Q175 5–20. The Damascus Document from the Cairo synagogue (CD A xii 23–xiii 1; xiv 19; CD B xix 10–11 and xix 21–xx 1) has also contributed to the discussion. Other texts published more recently remain under investigation, because they are very fragmentary: 4Q246 1 i 7–1 ii 9 (“Son of God,” “Son of the Most High”); 4Q285 7.2–5 (“the spout of David”); 4Q521 2 ii 1–2 (“his Anointed One”); and 4Q534 1 i 10 (“the Elect One of God”; cf. Collins 2010). In addition, the study of messianic expectations in Jewish literature has experienced a revival. Many studies focused on a specific writing such as Pss. Sol. 17–18; 4 Ezra (= 2 Esdras 3–14) 7:26–31; 12:31–34; 13:3–52; 2 Baruch 29:3; 30:1–2; 39:7; 40:1–3; 70:9–10; 72:2; 73:1; the Book

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of Parables in 1 Enoch 46:2–4; 48:2.10; 52:4; 53:6; 55:4; 62:5–7; 69:29; 71:14; the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (T. Lev. 2–5; T. Jud. 12:4, but T. Lev. 18 and T. Jud. 24 are Christian interpolations); and more recently the controversial Vision of Gabriel (lines 16,22–23, and 71–72; Henze 2011). Thus around the turn of the Common Era, Second Temple writings, including the Dead Sea texts, attest to a wide range of messianic figures, a state of affairs that has led scholars to conclude that this issue was a matter of debate in Judaism (Horbury 2003; Stuckenbruck 2007) and perhaps, in more functional terms, among the first Christians as well (Nickelsburg 2003). However, a consideration of how messianic expectations developed nuances this view. The literary evidence simply does not indicate a wide diversity that, in every respect, was concurrent. Whereas eschatological motifs are associated with more earthly or human figures among some earlier texts (e.g. 4Q246; Pss. Sol. 17), some later authors increasingly attached such hope to heavenly ones (cf. Book of Parables, 2 Bar., 4 Ezra in 12–13). In the wider scheme of things, eschatological events are concerned with the conflict between and delineation of the just ones, on the one hand, and the impious ones, on the other; therefore messianic figures could be introduced into a given narrative as writers considered how or by what agents the purposes of Israel’s God would be carried out.

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “‘He Shall Not Judge by What His Eyes See’: Messianic Authority in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 2 (1995): 145–64. W. Horbury, “Messianism in the Old Testament Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha,” in Messianism among Jews and Christians: Twelve Biblical and Historical Studies (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 35–64. G. W. E. Nickelsburg, “Agents of God’s Activity,” in Ancient Judaism and Christian Origins: Diversity, Continuity and Transformation, ed. G. W. E. Nickelsburg (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 90–117. M. Saebø, “On the Relationship between “Messianism” and “Eschatology” in the Old Testament: An Attempt at a Terminological and Factual Clarification,” in On the Way to Canon. Creative Tradition History in the Old Testament (Sheffield, Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 197–231. L. T. Stuckenbruck, “Messianic Ideas in the Apocalyptic and Related Literature of Early Judaism,” in The Messiah in the Old and New Testaments, ed. S. E. Porter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 90–113. DAVID HAMIDOVIĆ

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Daniel, Book of; David; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521); Priesthood; Revolt, Second Jewish; Sectarianism; Solomon, Psalms of; Son of God; Son of Man.

Metatron Metatron is one of the most intriguing (and enduring) characters of Jewish lore. The very origin of his name is still shrouded in mystery. Some researchers trace it back to the word metator (meaning “he who delimits”), which designates a Roman military marker, while others derive it from metatrion or metatrium, meaning “palace,” which would then denote his role in the divine world (See Montefiore and Loewe 2012: 68). The figure of Metatron stems from two different traditions. The first tradition has to do with an ordinary angel originating in the angelology of Merkabah literature—i.e. mystical texts dealing with a visionary’s ascent to the divine realm inspired by language from Ezekiel 1, 8 and

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41, depicting the “palaces” (hekhalot) a seeker would have to travel through in order to see the “divine chariot” (merkabah) who, after being identified as Metatron, took over some of archangel Michael’s duties (Alexander 1983: 1.223–315). This Metatron is encountered in certain Hekhalot and kabbalistic texts, where he is usually called Metatron Rabba. He appears, for instance, in the book of the Visions of Ezekiel (4th cent.), where one can also find a list of his secret names that is later developed in writings such as the Book of Secrets and Rabbi Nehemiah’s treatise The Seventy Names of Metatron (a reference to the seventy languages of the revelation on Mount Sinai, cf. Dan 1982: 19–23). The second tradition underlying Metatron relates to the biblical Enoch, who “walked with the angels” and “was taken up” when he was 365 years old (Gen 5:24). Enoch is said to have been transformed by God into an angel called Metatron and appointed mediator between God and man (cf. Tg. Ps.-J. to Gen 5:24; 3 En. 10:1). It is not clear when the two traditions were combined into a single figure. Some references in the Babylonian Talmud may indicate that a connection was already established by the time of its writing (cf. b. Ḥag. 15a). Thus, Metatron appears in Tosefta Ḥagigah 2:4, in the legend of the Four Sages who entered the Pardes (Orchard/Paradise), where he is said to have misled Elisha ben Abuyah into thinking that there were two powers in the divine world (cf. also 3 En. 16) because, being of human origin, he had joints and could sit (unlike other angels). He also appears in b. Sanhedrin 38b, the original version of which referred to him as “the lesser YHWH” (Scholem 1987: 378), a title that was probably removed later. Mention of the latter title in the Hebrew book of Enoch (3 Enoch) looks like an attempt to clarify an earlier tradition concerned with the angel Yahoel, in whom the Divine Name was to be found (see Apoc. Ab. chs. 10–11, 2nd cent. ce). The resulting figure of Metatron in b. Sanhedrin also incorporated various traits derived from other systems of thought as found, e.g., in Zoroastrian and gnostic tradition (Scholem 1987: 377–82). Metatron’s roles and titles (Orlov 2005) suggest that the figure evolved along several lines: (a) from a simple angelic scribe appointed to record the Jews’ merits and evil doings before the flood to a heavenly judge with a prominent place in divine judgment; (b) from a recipient and revealer of celestial and earthly secrets to an embodiment of them written on his crown by the Lord; (c) from an intercessor for various creatures of the lower realms to Israel’s attorney in the celestial court and to a redeemer who takes upon himself Israel’s sins; (d) from a witness of Israel’s deeds to God’s secretary and mediator of divine knowledge, judgment, presence, and authority. As Harold Bloom puts it, “God, after the Babylonian exile, reigns over a cosmos of angelic orders, and is no longer the solitary warrior-god, Yahweh, who employed a handful of Elohim as his messengers and agents. Out of Babylon came not only angelic names but angel-bureaucrats, princes, and functionaries” (Bloom 1996: 45). Metatron’s most interesting role, however, is the long-lasting one of priest. In 3 Enoch-Metatron is put in charge of the heavenly tabernacle placed in the vicinity of the Throne of Glory; this status brings him the title “Prince of the Divine Presence.” References to him in this position can also be found in other mystical texts, such as Merkabah Shlemah and Numbers Rabbah. The Zohar itself (II, 159a) mentions that Moses saw Metatron ministering as high priest (Orlov 2005: 115), and a similar tradition occurs in the Cairo Genizah materials, one of which also associates his 314 gematria-based name with the divine name of Shaddai (cf. Orlov 2005: 115). Moreover, in certain texts Metatron is leader of the celestial liturgy, master of ceremonies, and conductor of the choir. Such references can be identified in Hekhalot Zutarti and Shiur Qomah (The Measurement of Height, the earliest Hebrew work that deals with the description of God, 496

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counting His dimensions based on secret interpretations of the biblical text). In Sefer Haqomah it is stated that Metatron could invoke in song God’s name in seven voices. Metatron gathers up all those images of God that normative Judaism tended to reject but that nevertheless could not be excluded from Jewish traditions (cf. Bloom 1996: 206). Later mystical literature made an issue of the name’s spelling: in Shiur Qomah Metatron appears in two forms, with and without yod (6 or 7 letters respectively). Kabbalists linked these spellings to two different prototypes: the seven-lettered Metatron was the supreme emanation from the Shekinah (God’s Presence, sometimes called Metatron Rabba), while the six-lettered one was Enoch.

Bibliography P. Alexander, “3  (Hebrew Apocalypse of) Enoch (Fifth to Sixth Century A.D.),” OTP 1 (1983): 223–315. H. Bloom, Omens of Millennium: The Gnosis of Angels, Dreams, and Resurrection (New York: Riverhead Books, 1996). J. Dan, “The Seventy Names of Metatron,” in Division C: Talmud and Midrash, Philosophy and Mysticism, Hebrew and Yiddish Literature, vol. 3 of Proceedings of the Eight World Congress of Jewish Studies: Jerusalem, 16–21 August 1981, ed. D. Krone (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1982), 19–23. C. G. Montefiore and H. M. J. Loewe, eds. A Rabbinic Anthology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). G. Scholem, Kabbalah (New York: Dorset Press, 1987). FELICIA WALDMAN

Related entries: Angels; Ascent into Heaven; Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Ezekiel, Book of; Mediator Figures; Merkabah Mysticism.

Michael, the Archangel Of all the named angels in Second Temple Jewish texts, Michael is arguably the most prominent. He appears in the earliest references to named angels, he figures in numerous texts of various genres throughout the period, and his prominence continues in both early Christianity and rabbinic Judaism. His preeminence is reflected above all in that he is often linked in a special way with the people of Israel and is frequently portrayed as the principal angel. In the earliest reference to Michael in extant Jewish literature, 1 Enoch 9–10, part of the Book of Watchers (3rd cent. bce or earlier), he appears with three other named angels, Sariel (Greek: Uriel), Raphael, and Gabriel. Here Michael is named first when the four intercede with God for suffering humanity and in the ultimate position when they receive their individual commissions to punish the Watchers and cleanse the earth. As none of the four angels are introduced, one must assume that they were already well known to the readers. In 1 Enoch 20, Michael is named as one of the seven archangels: Uriel, Raphael, Reuel, Michael, Sariel, Gabriel, and Remiel. Here Michael is explicitly linked with the nation of Israel (20:5). From the time of the crisis under Antiochus IV Epiphanes (160s bce), Michael appears as the major angelic figure in the canonical Book of Daniel, where it is foretold that he will arise at the time of the end as the “great prince who stands over” the people of Israel (12:1). Earlier he is depicted in a military role: He opposes the angels set over Persia (10:13, 20) and Greece (10:21). Some interpreters would also identify the “one like a son of man” (7:13), who represents the nation of Israel, with Michael (see Collins 1993: 304–310). In the same period, a careful comparison of 1 Enoch 9–10 with its retelling in the early chapters of the Animal Apocalypse 497

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(1 En. 85–90) reveals that the angelic scribe (89:61–64; 9:22) is probably to be identified with Michael (see Hannah 1999: 36–37). He may also be alluded to within the preserved text of the Assumption of Moses (10:1); it is apparent that Michael was mentioned in this text’s now lost ending (cited in Jude 9) in which he served as Moses’ psychopomp. Later in the 2nd century bce, or perhaps in the 1st, the War Scroll from Qumran again names Michael as one of the four archangels (1QM ix 15–17), with Gabriel, Sariel, and Raphael, and strongly hints at his preeminence over all angels (1QM xvii 6–8). Although rarely named in the sectarian texts from Qumran, it seems certain that he was the Prince of Light under whose protection and authority the sectarians viewed themselves as the sons of light (1QM xvii 6–8; cf. 1QS iii 13–iv 26). Some interpreters would also identify the Melchizedek of 11Q13 (cf. ii 5, 8–9, and 13) with Michael, with his three names, Michael, Prince of Light, and Melchizedek (= King of Righteousness), paralleling Belial, Angel of Darkness, and Melchiresha (= King of Wickedness) (cf. 4Q544 2.11–16, 3.1–3) (see Hannah 1999: 70–74). In the Parables of Enoch, which probably dates to the late 1st century bce or the following century, Michael again appears as one of four archangels who stand in God’s presence. Again, he is placed first, followed by Raphael, Gabriel, and Phanuel (1 En. 40). Michael plays leading roles in the Testament of Abraham (esp. 7:11; 10–12), 3 Baruch (11–16), and 2 Enoch (esp. 22), but the dates and provenance of these last three texts are very uncertain: They may or may not be Jewish and may date from well after the Second Temple period. In the 1st century ce, Philo of Alexandria appears to have known traditions about Michael, for his Logos owes not a little to traditional beliefs about Michael (see Hannah 1999: 85–89). Near the end of the 1st century, or early in the next, Michael makes an appearance in the Apocalypse of Abraham (10:16–17) in which, however, Yahoel appears to have taken his place as the principal angelic figure. Michael continued to be reckoned as a principal angel in early Christianity. He is mentioned in two New Testament texts (Jude 9; Rev 12) and may be alluded to a few others (e.g. 2 Thess 2:6–7) (see Nicholl 2000). He is also prominent in 2nd-century Christian texts (Ascension of Isaiah, Epistle to the Apostles, Shepherd of Hermas). In these Michael functions much as he does in Jewish texts: He is one of the archangels (Jude 9; Ep. Apos. 13), leads the heavenly hosts (Rev 12), functions as a psychopompos (Jude 9), is an opponent of Satan (Jude 9), and is the highest of the angels (Rev 12; Ascen. Isa. 3:16; Ep. Apos. 13). In rabbinic literature, the same themes with regard to Michael continue. Michael is occasionally named as the highest of the archangels (b. Ber. 4b; b. Yoma 37a; Gen. R. 48:10) and, with Gabriel, as Israel’s protector (b. Sanh. 26ab; Gen. R. 44.13; Cant. R. 1.12; Exod. R. 18:5). Moreover, a theme which is merely hinted at in earlier literature (As. Mos. 10.1; 3 Bar. 11–16), namely that Michael is the heavenly high priest, enjoyed the enthusiastic approval of the rabbis (b. Ḥag. 12b; b. Menaḥ. 110a; b. Zebaḥ. 62a). Some interpreters think that at an early stage Michael and Metatron were identified (see Alexander 1977).

Bibliography P. S. Alexander, “The Historical Setting of the Hebrew Book of Enoch,” JJS 28 (1977): 162–67. D. D. Hannah, Michael and Christ: Michael Traditions and Angel Christology in Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999).

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M. Mach, “Michael,” DDD (1995), 1065–72. C. R. Nicholl, “Michael, the Restrainer removed,” JTS 51 (2000): 27–53. DARRELL D. HANNAH

Related entries: Baruch, Third Book of; Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Mediator Figures; Satan and Related Figures; Sectarianism; War Scroll (1QM + 4QM documents).

Midrash Derived from the Hebrew drš (‫)דרש‬, to seek, the term midrash (‫ )מדרש‬refers to the practices whereby the rabbinic sages active in Palestine and Babylonia from the late 1st century ce onward interpreted the Hebrew Scriptures. Those practices and their literary results are typically assigned to either of two generic orders. Midrash halakah signifies the interpretation of scriptural legislation, whereas midrash haggadah signifies the interpretation of scriptural narrative. Although the verbal form midrash appears in 2 Chronicles (13:22, 24:27) and the Dead Sea Scrolls (1QS vi 24; viii 15; viii 26; 4Q174 i 14; CD B xx 6 etc.), whether Jews of the Second Temple period applied the hermeneutical assumptions and tools subsequently associated with the term is uncertain. A few rabbinic texts ascribe to the 1st century bce sage Hillel a set of seven hermeneutical principles later to be utilized by proponents of the rabbinic movement (t. Sanh. 7:11; Sipra, proem 1:7; ʾAbot R. Nat. [A] 37). Furthermore, rabbinic compilations preserve numerous examples of midrashic interpretation echoing legal and narrative traditions attested in the Book of Jubilees, the Dead Sea Scrolls, Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities, and other Jewish compositions of the Second Temple era. These considerations have led many scholars to infer that the discipline of midrash evolved organically from earlier Jewish hermeneutical practices. Some have gone so far as to apply the label midrash to the exegetical efforts of Paul and other early Christian writers, thereby equating their decidedly nontraditional readings of the Hebrew Scriptures with those of their Jewish contemporaries. Yet those conclusions are conjectural at best. Scholars of classical rabbinic culture generally characterize midrash as sui generis, its content and form governed by interpretive impulses unique to its rabbinic practitioners. That the sages inherited certain exegetical traditions from prior Jewish generations seems clear enough. But they invariably filtered that traditional knowledge through their own epistemological lenses to adapt it to their own discursive needs, making it difficult for the modern observer to distinguish where the received wisdom of the sages ends and where their own, begins. Moreover, even where texts of the Second Temple period seem to exhibit thematic parallels with later midrashic texts, the critical reader must literarily assess both in order to determine whether their superficial resemblance is to be ascribed to common source material or merely to coincidence. Such factors weigh against the feasibility of retroactively designating exegetical motifs or techniques attested in pre-rabbinic Jewish texts, much less in Christian texts, as examples of midrash without qualification. Despite these caveats, one would not be unwarranted to trace the evolution of the rabbinic discipline to the Second Temple period. The very fact that Jewish readers of that age presumed to interpret their sacred texts provides ample grounds upon which to speculate that the rabbis did not invent their interpretive project out of whole cloth. One supposes, for instance, that the earliest proponents of the rabbinic movement learned some of their hermeneutical skills from their Pharisaic forerunners. Many, moreover, have observed technical similarities between the interpretive strategies of the rabbis and those of the Qumran sectarians. It therefore seems 499

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reasonable to surmise that the unique traditions and techniques employed by the sages originated during the Second Temple period even if one cannot establish their means of translation into rabbinic culture with absolute precision.

Bibliography S. D. Fraade, “Rabbinic Midrash and Ancient Jewish Biblical Interpretation,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Talmud and Rabbinic Literature, ed. C. E. Fonrobert and M. S. Jaffee (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 99–120. P. Mandel, “The Origins of Midrash in the Second Temple Period,” in Current Trends in the Study of Midrash, ed. C. Bakhos, JSJSup 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 9–34. JOSHUA EZRA BURNS

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Pharisees; Sages.

Military, Jews in the Although Jews were involved in military activity throughout the Second Temple period (including, e.g., Maccabean revolt, First and Second Jewish Wars against Rome), their activity as professional soldiers is mostly limited to the early 2nd century bce and before. Jewish participation in a professional military dates to the 5th century bce with the existence of a “Jewish troop” at Elephantine in southern Egypt. It is possible that the Jewish military colony was even formed by an emigration of military settlers before or during the collapse of the Judean kingdom at the beginning of the 6th century bce. Such a long-standing involvement in Egypt can be inferred not only from Elephantine documents themselves (Cowley 1923: nos. 30–32; Porten and Yardeni 1986: nos. A4.7–9) but also from the Letter of Aristeas (12–13). In turn, such participation in the military set the stage for further activities during the Hellenistic period. According to Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.200–204), Hecataeus of Abdera reported that Jews fought alongside Alexander, king of Macedon, and took part in his successors’ campaigns, with some Jewish soldiers being among the very best. Military Service in Ptolemaic Egypt.  A relative wealth of documentary material exists about the service of Ptolemaic Jewish soldiers. A certain “Polyktor son of Polyktor, a Macedonian of the mercenary cavalry of Demetrius” (Cowey and Maresch 2001: no. 5 ll. 2–4), who applied to the archons of the politeuma of the Jews in Herakleopolis in 135/134 bce, may have been a Jew. If so, Polyktor represents the earliest known example of a Jew who calls himself a Macedonian (Cowey and Maresch 2001: 11 nos. 42, 75, 76–77; cf. Tcherikover and Fuks 1957: 14–15). Moreover, in a deed of sale from 259 bce and signed in the Ptolemaic military settlement in Transjordan (Tcherikover and Fuks 1957: no. 1 ll. 6, 17), an Ignotus is identified both as a “Persian” and as “the son of Ananias … of the troop of Toubias, kleruch.” Two other military settlers, Theodorus son of Theodorus, known also as Samael, and Nicanor son of Jason, are listed as witnesses in a renewal of a loan document from the Fayûm (174 bce). Both men are identified as Jews and described as “80-arourai holders of the first hipparchy” (Tcherikover and Fuks 1957: no. 24 ll. 25–27), and thus belonged to a cavalry unit and held considerable tracts of land, as typical of army officers. The borrower mentioned in this document, Agathocles son of Ptolemy, was also 500

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identified as a Jew and is said to have served in Molossos’ detachment, probably an infantry unit in which he functioned as a paymaster (ll. 11–12). Also from Fayûm, there is reference in an inscription to an “Eleazaros son of Nikolaos, Hegemon,” who would have functioned as commander of a unit (Horbury and Noy 1992: no. 115). A letter of complaint (Cowey, Maresch, Barnes 2003: no. 1; date 154 bce?), written by one of the foot soldiers of Erotimos and Meleager to a fortress commander Dioscurides of Herakleopolis, targets another soldier from the unit named “Jason son of Jason, a Jew.” Beyond labels “Macedonian,” “Persian,” and “Jew” that were affixed to Jewish soldiers, there was the “Jew of the Epigone” (e.g. Tcherikover and Fuks 1957: nos. 19–21). Men so styled were descendants of Jewish soldiers who had served in the Ptolemaic army; though not actually soldiers, they were such in reserve and could be enlisted to the army as needed. The names of these soldiers and of Jews of the Epigone are predominantly Greek, and it has been suggested that no more than 25% of the names of soldiers identified as Jews were Hebrew. It is thus likely that many Jewish soldiers mentioned in papyri, ostraca, and inscriptions have not been identified as Jews simply because they were not styled Jews, were not linked to Jewish institutions like politeumas, synagogues, or archives, and because they bore good Greek names (Tcherikover and Fuks 1957: 27–28). Certainly a high percentage of the Jewish military in the Ptolemaic army would have been thoroughly hellenized. ̨ The existence of two largely Jewish military colonies can be noted. One was at Araq el-Amir in Transjordan, for which a high-ranking army officer named Toubias stood at the head of a cleruchy. This Toubias corresponded with Ptolemy Philadelphus (reigned 285–246 bce) and with his minister Apollonios, sending horses and other animals to the king and slaves to his minister. He also hosted Apollonios’ agent, Zenon, in “Birta of the Ammanitis,” his fortified military settlement, where remnants of a fort, a luxurious villa, and a gate have been found. His soldiers, in addition to Jews, were of Greek and Macedonian extraction, some infantry and others cavalry (Tcherikover and Fuks 1957: nos. 1–5). Toubias’ military colony survived into the 2nd century bce. Its warriors are mentioned as fighting on the side of Judas Maccabeus during the early years of the Maccabean revolt (1 Macc 5:13; 2 Macc 12:17–25, 35). Though these Toubian soldiers were Jews, not Greeks, they must have helped spread Greek military knowhow within the ranks of the Hasmonean army, something that no doubt helped later Hasmonean soldiers in their battles against the Seleucid army. The other military colony was established in Egypt by Onias IV, the son of the Jerusalem high priest Onias III. Unable to attain the high priesthood, Onias IV had fled to Egypt in either 169 (so Josephus, J.W. 1.31–33) or 163 bce (Josephus, Ant. 12.383–388; 20.235–236). At any rate, Ptolemy Philometor (reigned 180–145 bce) gave Onias land in Leontopolis, which is in the Heliopolitan nome, and there he built a fort (phrourion), a small town, and a temple (Josephus, J.W. 7.427). Though Josephus concentrated on the temple, his reference to the phrourion reveals an important side to Onias’ settlement; here (north of Cairo at Tell el-Yehoudieh), with Ptolemy’s sanction, Onias established a Jewish military cleruchy. The colony became to be known as “Onias’ land” (Josephus), to which an inscription found at the site refers (Horbury and Noy 1992: no. 38 l. 4). Though other inscriptions found there are not of military nature, Josephus suggests that the descendants of Onias’ colonists had a warlike disposition (J.W. 1.190; Ant. 14.131). Onias’ importance in Egypt is signaled by Josephus’ claim that Philometor and his queen, Cleopatra II, entrusted their entire kingdom to Jews, i.e., to Onias and Dositheus, who served as commanders of the entire Ptolemaic army. Josephus further maintains that Onias and Dositheus secured peace 501

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terms with the Alexandrians on behalf of Philometor’s widow when she became embroiled in a civil war. Onias is further credited with fighting both the Alexandrians and Ptolemy Euergetes II (Physcon), Cleopatra’s brother and rival to the throne (Ag. Ap. 2.49–52). Exemplary loyalty to Cleopatra III was also shown by Onias’ two sons, Helkias and Ananias, whom Josephus states commanded the Ptolemaic army in Cleopatra’s conflict with her son, Ptolemy IX Lathyrus (Ant. 13.285–287, 348–355). Finally, there is an inscription from Egypt honoring a strategos, a son of a certain Helkias (Horbury and Noy 1992: no. 129) and probably a son of the Oniad Helkias, who held senior military positions in the Ptolemaic army. Military Service under the Seleucids.  Josephus notes that Seleucid rulers, such as Seleucus Nicator, bestowed honors on Jews for their constant participation in their military campaigns (Ant. 12.119–120). A specific example of Jews serving in the Seleucid army is mentioned in a letter quoted by Josephus in which Antiochus III informs Zeuxis, his grand vizier in Asia Minor, of his decision to transfer 2,000 Jewish families from Mesopotamia and Babylonia to Lydia and Phrygia and to settle the Jews “in the fortresses and in the most essential locations” (Ant. 12.148–153). In 2 Maccabees Judas Maccabeus tells his soldiers of a battle waged in Babylonia in which 4,000 Macedonians were deployed together with 8,000 non-identified soldiers against a Galatian army that was annihilated by these nameless allies as they were provided with divine succor (2 Macc 8:19–20). In light of this divine help, for Judas Maccabeus the nameless soldiers would have been Jews, and it could be assumed that they were fighting alongside a Seleucid army unit. Finally, one may mention a letter of Demetrius I to the Jewish people promising them various rights. The letter, which is embedded in 1 Maccabees (10:25–45), makes allowance for the conscription of 30,000 Jews into the Seleucid army (10:36).

Bibliography See General Bibliography DOV GERA

Related entries: Alexander the Great; Diadochi; Heliopolis; Herakleopolis Papyri; High Priests; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Names and Naming; Ptolemies; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Seleucids; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Miqvaʾot (Ritual Baths) Approximately 850 plastered “stepped pools” spanning the period from ca. 100 bce until well into the Byzantine period have been uncovered throughout Judea and the Galilee. Most of these are presumed to have been used for ritual immersion purposes and are regarded as the earliest examples of what the rabbis, based on Leviticus 11:36, referred to as miqvaʾot (sg. miqveh). Prior to the introduction of the artificial pool, immersion was likely performed in springs and other natural “gatherings of water” (Lev 11:36), a practice that continued in the diaspora, where it appears to have been the norm into Late Antiquity. Before stepped pools were discovered outside Jerusalem and its environs, archaeologists had concluded that ritual immersion was especially connected to the priestly cult and pilgrimage

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to Jerusalem (Reich 2013: 231–32). It is now evident, however, that already in late Second Temple times ritual purity rites were important components of an emerging “household Judaism” (Berlin 2005) that characterized much of Jewish society and facilitated its survival beyond the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce (Miller 2015: 241–48). This household Judaism was predicated upon the implicit connection between the purity laws in Leviticus 11–15 and the Holiness Code in Leviticus 17–26, which led to an understanding that purity concerns applied to everyone and ensured the holiness not only of the sancta but also of the people and the land (Miller 2015: 204–7). The Torah regards a corpse, various dead creatures, genital fluxes, leprosy, and lochial and menstrual blood as defiling (Lev 11–15; Num 5:1–3; 19:11–19; cf. Lev 21:1–4, 11). Persons who suffered from or came into contact with these defilements required some form of purification, often including sprinkling and/or bathing. What these defilements have in common is a connection to death, the loss of a life source (i.e. blood or semen), and sexuality. These entirely unavoidable human functions were considered defiling precisely because death and sex do not belong to the divine realm (Klawans 2006: 58). They, therefore, prevented one from participating in the Temple cult sans purification. Likewise, priestly dues and tithes were prepared and eaten in purity. It is likely that, aside from the Qumran sect and the Pharisees, many other Jews in the Second Temple period, either familiar with the basic biblical traditions and/or sharing the ancient dread of miasma associated with bodily excretions, believed that profane foods and the vessels that contained them had to be protected from defilement. The discovery of many ritual baths in homes or in courtyards points to a quotidian concern for ritual purity. The use of stone vessels in homes with ritual baths (e.g. at Sepphoris), beginning in the Herodian period, may suggest the same; for though some did not share their view, the rabbis believed stone was impervious to impurity (cf. John 2:6; see Miller 2015: 153–183). Although the rabbis are considered a major source for the details of ritual immersion, care must be used in projecting the information they provide onto the pools and related practices of the Second Temple period. While the rabbis insist that a pool had to contain 40 se’ah of rainwater for immersion (e.g. m. Miqw. 1:7; 2:1–3, Sifra Shemini 9; Sifra Meṣoraʿ Zavim 3:6), this amount is useless for assessing the finds, both because of modern uncertainty about the unit of measure and because almost all of the pools have at least enough water to allow for full immersion. In addition, the rabbis require that the water not be “drawn”; by this limitation they also mean that any human interference in the flow of rainwater to a pool, say from a rooftop, deprived it of its ability to purify because it no longer was a “pure” gift provided directly by God (Miller 2015: 122–37). The rabbis had ingenious ways to return “drawn” water to its natural pure state, which until recently were thought to govern how the discovered pools functioned. These included “conduction,” which permitted the drawing and pouring of water along the ground whence it flowed freely into the pool (m. Miqw. 4:4; b. Tem. 12a–b). They also taught that drawn water was rendered pure when it was brought into “contact” with 40 se’ah of pure rainwater, allowing for the addition of drawn water to a valid pool (m. Miqw. 6:8). This method was also thought to explain the existence of side-by-side pools discovered at Jericho (Figure 4.75) and Masada (Miller 2015: 63–69). One pool would have served as a “reservoir (ʾoṣar)” of rainwater that was brought into contact with the drawn water of the immersion pool through a channel in an adjoining wall. This mechanism, however, was not commonly utilized until the modern period, so other explanations for the ancient side503

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Figure 4.75  Jericho, stepped pool with adjoining pool.

by-side pools have been suggested (Adler 2014; Miller 2015: 62–73). The notion of “drawn water” itself appears to have been exclusively rabbinic. In many homes, stepped pools were situated in close proximity to cisterns (Figure 4.76), strongly suggesting that water was drawn directly from the cisterns to fill these pools. Earlier attempts to identify these stand-alone pools as aristocratic, Sadducaic, or priestly, and to characterize those that were thought to have an ʼoṣar as Pharisaic (Sanders 1990: 220–25), have been contested (Miller 2015: 62–73, 210–13). Stepped pools were built into bedrock, except at Qumran where they were constructed into the limestone marl. Most were entered via a stairway leading down into the pool or were cave-like and were entered from the side (see Figures 4.76 and 4.77). In Jerusalem and its environs some pools had dual entranceways (Figure 4.78) and/or partitioned stairways, which are thought to have kept those who had already immersed and were now pure separate from those first entering. Although some would like to ascribe this architectural feature to priests or pilgrims interested in achieving a higher level of purity, it may have originated as a purely stylistic development (Miller 2015: 56–62). Stepped pools have also been discovered in the frigidaria of bathhouses, where they appear to have served both as ritual baths and as plunge pools, as well as near synagogues, wine and oil presses, and tombs, all suggesting a common, everyday institution. Corpse defilement was the most severe impurity in biblical sources, affecting the person who came into contact with or was under the same roof as a cadaver or foodstuffs that were similarly exposed. A sprinkling with a mixture composed of natural “living water” and the ashes of a sacrificed red cow was, according to Numbers 19:11–20, required on the third and seventh day following the defilement. Immersion was likely required on the seventh day as well 504

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Figure 4.76  Typical early Roman stand-alone stepped pool, with cistern opening alongside.

Figure 4.77  Cave or side-entrance stepped pool.

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Miqvaʾot (Ritual Baths)

Figure 4.78  Dual-entranceway stepped pool outside Dung Gate, Jerusalem.

(Harrington 1993: 120–21). The Qumran group may have insisted on an additional ablution on the first day (cf. 11QTa xlix 17; l 14). It seems reasonable to assume that even people who were unable to complete the red cow rite at the Temple (such as, perhaps, the community at Qumran) would have at least immersed. Once the red cow ashes became inaccessible, corpse impurity was still likely to have been avoided. Josephus notes that Herod Antipas was aware that he was establishing a settlement at Tiberias “contrary to the law” of the Jews because it was built upon graves. The later rabbis are aware of the city’s impure status, which evidently remained a concern long after 70 ce (Josephus, Ant. 18.36–38; Y. Seb. 9:1, 38d, Gen. Rab. 79:6). Josephus also mentions (Ag. Ap. 2.203) that husband and wife “bathed” after sexual relations, a practice that is based upon Leviticus 15:18. The same applied to a man who suffered a seminal emission (Lev 15:16; cf. Deut 23:11). These practices persisted in the land of Israel well into Late Antiquity (Miller 2015: 227, 326). The immersion of a menstruant following seven days of impurity, and, for that matter, of one who touches her or engages in sexual relations with her, seems to be taken for granted in Leviticus 15:19–24 (Milgrom 1991: 746, 934–935; cf. Harrington 1993: 113–39), where immediate bathing is explicitly prescribed for one who comes into contact with anything she lies or sits on. Leviticus also does not explicitly require immersion of the parturient, who was impure for a week after the birth of a boy and two weeks following that of a girl, yet here too it is likely to have been required (Lev 12:1–5; cf. Luke 2:22). Immersion following lochial and menstrual flows was likely the norm in Second Temple times and is practiced by traditionally observant Jews to this day. 506

Miracles and Miracle Workers

Mark 7:3 assigns handwashing before eating to “the Pharisees and all the Jews” and further asserts that the Jews either washed produce from the market or, depending on the version, themselves upon returning from the market. Full immersion before eating is known from Qumran and from Luke 11:38 where the Pharisees expect Jesus to have immersed before eating. Mark also refers to the “washing” of some types of vessels, a practice derived from Numbers 31:21–23 and known from Qumran and the rabbis, which is also practiced today. It is evident that food consumption and sexuality were regulated by ritual purity rites in many a Jewish home during the late Second Temple period, when “household Judaism” had clearly taken hold.

Bibliography Y. Adler, “The Myth of the “‘Oṣar” in Second Temple Period Ritual Baths: An Anachronistic Interpretation of a Modern-Era Innovation,” JJS 64 (2014): 263–83. R. Reich, Miqwa’ot (Jewish Ritual Baths) in the Second Temple, Mishnaic, and Talmudic Periods (Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 2013) (Hebrew). STUART S. MILLER

Related entries: Baths; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Gamla; Jesus of Nazareth; Leviticus, Book of; Magdala; Mark, Gospel of; Priesthood; Purification and Purity; Sadducees; Sages; Women.

Miracles and Miracle Workers Introduction.  Traditionally scholars have dealt with Jewish miracle traditions through the lens of the “divine man” (θεῖος ἀνήρ, theios anēr) of Greco-Roman lore. More recent attention has given due credence to miracles and miracle workers in the Hebrew Bible (Laato 2008), Rabbinic Judaism (Becker 2002), and other early Jewish traditions (esp. Eve 2002; Koskenniemi 2005). Defining “Miracles.”  Beginning in the Hebrew Bible, the religion of Israel always associated “laws of nature” with God the Almighty, who does “miracles” whenever at will. These “miracles” may have been events of ordinary life (like the birth of Samuel, 1 Sam 1–2), but also unique, “miraculous” events, like the plagues in Egypt (Exod 7–12). The scriptural terms gedolot (‫)גדלות‬, niphlaʾot (‫)נפלאות‬, ʾotot (‫)אתות‬, and mophatim (‫( )מופתים‬see Laato 2008: 58–65), used in various ways during the long history of Jewish tradition, mirror these ideas. A definition based on a modern category of “miracle” is necessarily at odds with the Hebrew view and a careful reflection on the topic is needed. Sometimes God is thought to be behind miraculous events, without recourse to intermediaries. At other times, however, human agents, like Moses or Elijah, may play a smaller or bigger role in the miracle. Kahl (1994) introduced a helpful set of distinctions, speaking of the Bearer of the Numinous Power (=BNP) who is claimed to have caused a miracle, the Mediator of the Numinous Power (=MNP) used as the agent of the BNP, and the Petitioner of the Numinous Power (=PNP) asking the BNP to make the miracle. The role of human agents varies greatly in early Jewish texts retelling the biblical stories.

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Miracles and Miracle Workers

Miracles in the Hebrew Bible. Israel believed in a God who intervenes in history with miraculous acts. Historical credos, like Deuteronomy 26:5–9, structure the history of Israel and emphasize that God has governed its course with mighty deeds. This means that the notion of God performing miracles with God’s supreme power is present everywhere in Scripture, such as, e.g., in Isaiah 40–55 (Laato 2008: 67). God may use human agents, attributing them a lesser or greater role. Whereas Abraham only prays for help (Gen 12, 20), Moses is more closely connected with God’s mighty deeds (esp. Exod 3–17, Num 12:1–15; 16–17; 21:4,9), and Joshua acts more like God’s agent at Jordan (Jos 3:1–5:1), Jericho (5:13–6:27), and Gibeah (10:8–14). The intermediary roles played by Samson, David, Solomon, Elijah, and other prophets also provided opportunities for reflection for the later readers of the texts. Hebrew Bible Figures in Early Judaism.  Second Temple Jewish traditions retold the mighty deeds associated with Moses, Joshua, Elijah, Elisha, and several other figures by explaining, expanding, reducing, and modifying the texts of Scripture. Miracles were attributed to new figures such as Abraham, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. These stories were sometimes only strong reinterpretations of the biblical pre-texts as, e.g., Abraham’s prayer for healing in Genesis Apocryphon at 1QapGen xx 18–29 (cf. Gen 20:7, 17–18) or David’s song at Saul’s court in Liber antiquitatum biblicarum 60:1–3 (cf. 1 Sam 16:23). Some stories, however, were completely new, like Abraham’s expulsion of demonic crows (Jub. 11:9–24) or the great deeds of Kenas, hardly mentioned in the Hebrew Bible (LAB 25–28, cf. Judg 1:13; 1 Chr 4:13). A rich tradition, badly neglected in earlier research, gives glimpses of how the sacred Hebrew tradition was used and adapted, reflecting also the ideas and problems within Jewish societies during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Scriptural tradition in the Hebrew Bible was part of a glorious past that defined the identity of the nation, and so there was much at stake in its retelling, as evidenced already in Ben Sira’s Praise of the Fathers (chs. 44–50; Koskenniemi 2005: 17–43). The great deeds of Moses and Joshua (cf. LAB, respectively in 9:1–19:16; 20:1–24:6) as well as those of Elijah and other figures (cf. Liv. Pro.) were praised, often with a violent, militant tone (Koskenniemi 2005: 189–207). This tradition caused problems for Josephus, who after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce was understandably not keen to retell the violent deeds of Joshua; he oriented himself around the biblical original more than the accumulated tradition (Koskenniemi 2005: 228–80). Much of early Jewish religion and literature involved the retelling of sacred stories from tradition. This embellished recycling of tradition was also influenced by foreign concepts, including Mediterranean magic. This was the case for Abraham, but especially for Solomon, who was considered wise from the start; from them and other biblical figures every kind of wisdom was derived (respectively, Pseudo-Eupolemus in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.17.3–9 and Josephus, Ant. 8.42–47). Historical Figures in Hellenistic and Roman Periods.  Jewish interpreters were also attributing miracles to historical figures during the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. Many of them were aspirants to political power, while some were also completely apolitical.

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Miracles and Miracle Workers

The retelling of tradition had produced a very militant interpretation of scriptural heroes, and so several political figures drew on such tradition to legitimize themselves as leaders. Theudas (Acts 5:36; Josephus, Ant. 20.97–98), “the Egyptian” (Acts 21:38; J.W. 2.261–263; Ant. 20.169– 172), and Jonathan (J.W. 7.437–442; Life 423–425), who modeled themselves after Moses or Joshua, elicited strong opposition not only from the Romans but also from the ruling class of Jerusalem. Although it is important to bear in mind that the modern division of religion and politics was alien to Roman times, many Jewish miracle workers were, even by more contemporary standards, completely apolitical and focused on helping people in their everyday lives. They were sought after to heal the sick, as were Eleazar (Josephus, Ant. 8.42–49) and Ḥanina ben Dosa (Becker 2002: 347–7), or even to produce rain, as Ḥoni was (Becker 2002: 290–346). People like the seven sons of Sceva ministered by using magic (Acts 19:13–16). The early rabbinic tradition was not as keen to retell biblical miracles (except for those defining the nation), consciously avoiding any possible connections to magic (Becker 2002: 406–14). A special type of these miracle workers straddled this divide; they possessed political motivations, but without being militant. These worked as professionals at courts of the rulers. Examples include Bar-Jesus (Acts 13:6–12) and Atomos (Josephus, Ant. 20.141–143). Conclusion.  The rich and varied Jewish tradition of miracles deserves attention, and not simply as background for Christian texts. These texts form a framework within which the miraculous in the New Testament should be investigated, especially the Gospel traditions. Suspicion of magic among Jewish teachers, e.g., explains why Matthew sometimes reduced the details of Markan stories (Koskenniemi 2013). The Gospel of Luke, for its part, illustrates the difficulties the militant spirit caused after the fall of Jerusalem (Koskenniemi 2012).

Bibliography M. Becker, Wunder und Wundertäter im frührabbinischen Judentum. Studien zum Phänomen und seiner Überlieferung im Horizont von Magie und Dämonismus, WUNT 2,144 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). W. Kahl, New Testament Miracle Stories in their Religious-Historical Setting. A Religionsgeschichtliche Comparison from a Structural Perspective, FRALANT 163 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994). E. Koskenniemi, “The Gospel of Luke and the Militant Spirit,” in Voces Clamantium in Deserto: Essays in Honor of Kari Syreeni, ed. S.-O. Back and M. Kankaanniemi. Studier i exegetic och judaistik utgivna av Teologiska fakulteten vid Åbo Akademi 11 (Åbo: Åbo Akademi, 2012), 149–62. E. Koskenniemi, “Miracles of the Devil and His Assistants in Early Judaism and Their Influence on the Gospel of Matthew,” in Evil and the Devil, ed. I. Fröhlich and E. Koskenniemi, LNTS 481 (London: T&T Clark, 2013), 84–97. A. Laato, “Miracles in the Old Testament,” 76 in  Miracles: God, Science, and Psychology in the Paranormal vol. I: Religious and Spiritual Events, ed. J. H. Ellens (Westport: Praeger, 2008), 57–76. ERKKI KOSKENNIEMI

Related entries: Healing; Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; Jesus of Nazareth; Magical Papyri, Jewish; LukeActs; Magic and Divination; Magic Incantations and Bowls; Mark, Gospel of; Miraculous Births; Penitential Prayer.

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Mishmarot

Mishmarot Introduction.  The plural feminine Hebrew noun mishmarot (‫ )משמרות‬literally means “watches” or “guards” (from the verb ‫שמר‬, šmr, “watch,” “keep”). The term appears in Nehemiah in the context of the 24 priestly courses, each consisting of priestly families who, chosen by lot, performed ritual functions at the Temple (Neh 12:9, 24; 13:14). The list of the watches appears in 1 Chronicles 24:7–18, where the courses are referred to by the term maḥleqot (‫מחלקות‬, 1 Chr 24:1), with the course of Jehoyarib being the first division in the roster. Second Temple References and Interpretations.  Reception of Hebrew Bible. According to late narratives of the Hebrew Bible, four of the courses returned after the exile (Ezra 2:36–39 par. Neh 7:39–42, cf. Ezra 10:18–22). According to rabbinic tradition the missing 20 courses were re-formed by reorganizing the remaining four (t. Taʿan. 2:1; 4:2–4). The Maccabees claimed descent from the first division of Jehoyarib (1 Macc 2:1), as did Josephus, who stated that he was of the chief family of the first course (Life 1–2). Josephus claims that the divisions remained “to this day” (Ant. 7.366; cf. Bauckham 1996: 339–45), that Jews for the past 2,000 years recorded these genealogies, and that a man must ensure that his wife’s ancestry was listed in the ancient annals (Ag. Ap. 30–37). John the Baptist was a descendant of a priestly family in the course of Abijah (Luke 1:5) and the occasion of his father’s duty in the Jerusalem Temple sanctuary during the time of Herod is integrated into a birth narrative (Luke 1:8–24). The famous depiction on the Arch of Titus in Rome of Jewish artifacts carried off as spoil from Jerusalem independently supports the literature that rituals were performed in the Temple until the 1st century ce. Dead Sea Texts: Content and Synchronization. The term mishmarot appears in the War Scroll (1QM), which echoes the terminology in Nehemiah. 1QM notes that there are 52 fathers of the congregation, twelve chiefs, and 26 heads of the priestly courses, instead of 24: “And the 26 heads of the courses (‫וראשי המשמרות‬, wrʾšy hmšmrwt) shall serve in their courses (‫במשמרותם‬, bmšmrwtm)” (1QM 2:1–2). The use of the number 26 is probably a reference to the calendrical use of the priestly courses in the 364-day, 52-week year tradition in the Hebrew Dead Sea Scrolls. The 26 divisions would make it possible to divide 364 into a whole number: seven days per course, twice a year. The so-called Mishmarot texts from Qumran are those which contain the names of the 24 priestly watches found in 1 Chronicles 24 (Talmon 2000). The names appear in a different order compared to the biblical text, beginning and ending with Gamul (so in 4Q324 i). The ordinal day number of the priestly course in the Qumran roster was synchronized with the 364-day calendar or with the 364-day calendar and a schematic lunar calendar (4Q320 1–2). The 364-day calendar began on the fourth day of the week (Wednesday) and the courses in the scrolls served from Sabbath to Sabbath (cf. Josephus, Ant. 7.365 who, however, does not mention the calendar), so they were not aligned day-for-day. The dating system in the texts worked in a repeated circular six-year cycle with each course serving 13 times for seven days every 13 weeks in fixed rotation (Abegg 2001). Because the calendar began on Wednesday and the seven-day duty of the priestly courses began on Sabbath, the courses straddled months and years in the 364-day calendar at the beginning and end of the months. Many of the Mishmarot texts identify the priestly watches at the beginning of particular calendrical units (Talmon 2001): Sabbaths (4Q323, 4Q324, 4Q325, 4Q326); weeks (4Q320);

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Mnaseas of Patara

beginnings of months (4Q320, 4Q324a, 4Q324c, 4Q326, 4Q329); quarters (4Q324a, 4Q328, 4Q329); years (4Q328, 4Q329); and years in a seven-year Sabbatical cycle (4Q330). Some texts list or mention biblical festivals (4Q320, 4Q321, 4Q321a, 4Q324, 4Q326), or simply the Passover only (4Q329), while one text One text includes the Temple Scroll festivals (4Q325) and a fragment of another text notes a Temple Scroll festival in its margin (4Q324d). vThe Mishmarot texts further contain data indicating when lunar phases recur schematically each month (4Q320 1–2: full moon; and 4Q321a, 4Q321: full moon and first crescent). The day number of a priestly course appears in 4Q333 (Historical Text E), while another is synchronized with a Babylonian calendar system in 4Q332 (Historical Text D); (debate and summaries, Jacobus 2013, 2016). A similar system of synchronizing calendrical reckonings existed in 4th-century bce Greece. A day in the Athenian calendar could be double-dated by aligning the civil year (whether a 365 or 366-day year) with the 354-day lunar festival calendar. This system used the ordinal day number of one of the ten to 13 Athenian tribes’ terms of office (the Prytany calendar) with the festival calendar date and the year of the archon (cf. Dittenberger 1892). As such, it arguably resembles the detailed scheme that aligned the ordinal day number of priestly courses with dates in the 364day calendar and the 354-day lunar calendar in 4Q320 1–2.

Bibliography M. G. Abegg, “The Calendar at Qumran,” in Judaism Late Antiquity. Part Five. The Judaism of Qumran: A Systemic Reading of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Volume 1, ed. A. J. Avery-Peck, J. Neusner, and B. D. Chilton (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 145–71. R. Bauckham, “Josephus’s Account of the Temple in Contra Apionem 2.102–109,” in Josephus’ Contra Apionem: Studies in Its Character and Context with a Latin Concordance to the Portion Missing in Greek, ed. L. H. Feldman and J. R. Levison, AGAJU 34 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 327–47. H. R. Jacobus, “The Babylonian Lunar Three and the Qumran Calendars of the Priestly courses: A Response,” RevQ 101/26 (2013): 21–51. H. R. Jacobus, “Calendars in the Qumran Collection,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran and the Concept of a Library, ed. S. White Crawford and C. Wassén, STDJ 116 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 217–43. S. Talmon, “Calendars and Mishmarot,” EDSS (2000), 1:108–12. HELEN R. JACOBUS

Related entries: Calendars; Chronicles, Books of; Josephus, Writings of; Nehemiah, Book of; Priesthood; Sun and Moon.

Mnaseas of Patara Mnaseas, from the Lycian city of Patara, was an outstanding student of Eratosthenes of Cyrene, who headed the Great Library of Alexandria around 225–200 bce. Mnaseas wrote two books, one on the oracles of Delphi, the other a Periegesis (or coastal tour) in three books that contained entertaining prose descriptions of lands and peoples in Europe, Africa, and Asia. Josephus (Ag. Ap. 2.112–14) narrated a story taken from Mnaseas that featured the first claim from a Greek writer that the Jews worshiped a statue of an ass in Jerusalem’s Temple. According to this tale, an individual identified as the Idumean Zabidus of “Dor” (Adora) cleverly disguised himself with lamps as the shining god Apollo in order to enter the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, steal the golden head off the pack-ass worshiped there, and transport the prize back to Dor. Since the ass was a symbol of Seth-Typhon, the Egyptian god of chaos, the story is widely regarded as a reflection 511

Moiragenes of Athens

of anti-Jewish Egyptian propaganda of ca. 200 bce, despite its putative setting in Judea and Idumean Adora. Although Mnaseas told the anecdote mainly for its amusement value, his story was repeated by Greek and Roman anti-Semites of later times, including Apion, whom Josephus cited as his immediate source.

Bibliography See General Bibliography. RUSSELL E. GMIRKIN

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Berossus; Egypt; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Idumea; Josephus, Writings of.

Moiragenes of Athens Moiragenes was a 2nd-century bce philosopher whose writings became popular among Stoic circles by the 2nd century ce (Miller col. 2497). Although Moiragenes’ name appears on an Athenian sepulchral inscription of the early 2nd century ce found in a cistern south of the Hephaestion, he likely hails from Antioch in the Hellenistic east (Buechler 1899: 181–94). Moiragenes offers an historical-naturalistic assessment of Jewish ritual (Stern 1976), his analysis preserved in Plutarch’s Quaestiones Convivales (Berchman 2007: 402–03). Focusing on Jewish dietary practices and the Feast of Tabernacles, Plutarch employs Moiragenes as a source in mapping similarities between Jewish and Hellenistic religious ritual (6.1–2; cf. Latzaras 1920: 161–69). At a symposium held at Aidepsos in Euboea, Plutarch’s brother Lamprias recalls that his grandfather claimed that Jews abstain from pork because they either honor the pig or abhor it. Parallels with Pythagorean abstention from fish (8.8) and the prohibition of salt by the Egyptian priests (5.10) are drawn. In response, Callistratus claims Jewish attitudes arise from respect and gratitude for the part played by the pig in the history of agriculture in Egypt. Lamprias objects, arguing that Jewish abstention from pork originated in a fear of leprosy and the dirtiness of swine and that Adonis, identified with Dionysus, was killed by a boar. This leads the discussion back to the possible identity of the Jewish God with Dionysus, with concentration on the Dionysian character of Jewish feasts. Relation between the Sabbath and Dionysus is emphasized: “Even now many people call the Bacchi ‘Sabboi’ calling out the word when the orgies of Bacchus are performed.” Additional arguments are made for parallels between Jewish and Dionysian ritual. These include the nature of the dress worn by the high priest; trumpeting during nightly celebrations; and the abstention from the use of honey in religious services. Honey spoils the wine with which it is mixed. Moreover, honey was used as libation long before the vine and wine were discovered (Goodenough 1956: 134).

Bibliography R. M. Berchman, “Roman and Greek Questions,” in Encyclopedia of Religious and Philosophical Writings in Late Antiquity, ed. J. Neusner and A. J. Avery-Peck (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 402–3. A. Buechler, “Moiragenes,” REJ XXXVII (1899): 181–94. B. Latzarus, Les idées religieuses de Plutarque (Paris: Leroux, 1920). J. Miller, “Moiragenes,” RE 15.2 (1932): col. 2497. ROBERT M. BERCHMAN

Related entries: Diet in Palestine; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Inscriptions. 512

Monotheism

Monotheism At a basic level, the term “monotheism” is applied to belief in the existence of only one God (monos, “only” or “single,” and theos, “God”). Use of the word in relation to Second Temple Judaism, however, requires significant qualification. The expression itself and key related terms (e.g. henotheism and polytheism) are heuristic (interpretative) words used by modern scholars as they seek to understand and discuss ancient texts and beliefs. Ancient people did not have categories like “monotheist” or “polytheist” for reflecting upon their religious beliefs (MacDonald 2004). The beliefs and practices of ancient Mediterranean peoples were intimately related and penetrated both their public and private lives. Modern application of these terms to their world is therefore anachronistic and should be handled with some caution (Moberly 2004: 233–34). As one scholar writes, “The Biblical insistence on the oneness of God is so different from the monotheistic consciousness of our time that the almost universal procedure of reading the Bible through the spectacles of a modern monotheist must result in a serious misreading of its message” (Mauser 1991: 257). The vast majority of people in the Ancient Mediterranean world—of which various forms of Judaism were a small part—were polytheists. That is, the majority of people in antiquity believed in the existence of a wide variety of gods and goddesses. These deities were often understood in anthropomorphic terms and were believed to rule over various forces of nature or aspects of one’s life. In antiquity, the exclusive belief in or devotion to one deity would have contravened far more tolerant and widespread practices. To faithful Jews, e.g., the following practice would have been difficult to imagine: in 1st-century ce Rome one might make sacrifices to household gods upon waking up in the morning, then head to the public forum at midday to make public sacrifices to the emperor (a human proclaimed as a god), and that same evening may go to the temple of Neptune, the sea god, to make an offering to ask for safe passage on an upcoming sea voyage. Such activities would not have been regarded by practitioners as inconsistent or duplicitous, because each deity’s sphere of rule or influence would have been limited to a particular area of life, whether public or private. It was another matter, as in the case of Jews and followers of Jesus in the Second Temple period, to organize themselves around the conviction that a single deity, and no other, lays claim over people’s entire lives (Hurtado 1998). It is not clear from the literature that ancient Jews were exclusive monotheists—the belief in and worship of God to the exclusion of the existence of other gods. Instead, it may be more accurate to describe ancient Judaism as henotheistic—the belief in and worship of one God but not to the exclusion of the existence of other gods. This perspective focuses more on the practice of worshiping one god exclusively (also known as monolatry), without denying the possible existence of other gods. Such a view would explain how Jews and Christians could live out their lives in a primarily polytheistic context. Though holding exclusive beliefs for themselves and as such being in tension with the religious world around them, they were in constant contact with a majority belief in a variety of gods and goddesses, so that the knowledge of, and sometimes accommodation to, the majority worldview remained a possible, perhaps even probable alternative. Nevertheless, there is significant evidence to suggest that, in the ancient Mediterranean world, the beliefs of Jews and Christians were unusual enough to warrant referring to them as “monotheists” in relative contrast to the “polytheism” of the broader culture. The seemingly most straightforward formulation of monotheistic belief appears in Deuteronomy 6:4, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord” (this is text known as “The Shema”), while perhaps a

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Monotheism

cumulatively more emphatic series of statements to that effect occur in Isaiah (e.g. 44:6; 45:5–6;, 14, 18, 20–22). Certainly by the late Second Temple period, evidence suggests that monotheism was a strongly held belief among many Jews; it was no doubt strengthened in response to the decree of Antiochus IV Epiphanes that Judaism be outlawed in favor of polytheism, prompting open revolt, according to 1 Maccabees (1 Macc 1–4; cf. further 3 Macc 7:16). Statements that there is the one and unique God or that only the God of Israel is to be worshiped are frequent (Josephus, Ant. 1.155; 3.91; 4.200; 9.133; Ag. Ap. 2.193; Philo, Creation 171–172; Alleg. Interp. 1.51; 2.1; Ep Jer), and for many at least a distinction was ultimately drawn between divine reality in heaven, on the one hand, and the earthly sphere, on the other (Sullivan 2004: 147–78, 227–36). Not all Jews of the Second Temple period appear to have been consistent in demarcating lines of monotheistic devotion, and there may even have been some ambiguity on the matter in writings of a single author such as Philo (Segal 1977: 159–81). For at least some Jews and Christians, mediator figures suggest that the separation between God and human beings was not absolute. Principal angels, hypostatic beings, and exalted humans in some texts could be thought to have shared in God’s nature and, as in some Jewish traditions (so the Son of Man in 1 En. 37–71; cf. Fletcher-Louis 2015: 171–205) and in Christological reflections of writings throughout the New Testament (e.g. 1 Cor 8:4–6; Col 1:15–20; John 1:1–4), the focus of religiosity on the God of Israel could accommodate a further being who shares God’s nature or is in some sense even equal to God. Early Christians, with their developing belief in the divinity of Jesus and especially the later explicit inclusion of the Holy Spirit in the Godhead (incipiently in texts like Matt 28:16–20; Ascen. Isa. 5–10), seem to have blurred the lines of monotheistic devotion. While Christians likely believed that they were maintaining monotheistic beliefs and made efforts to do so (1 Cor 8:4–6; cf. use of the singular pronouns in Rev 22:1–5), non-followers of Jesus were often quick to point out the inconsistency in their beliefs (cf. John 5:18–19). The belief in one deity to the exclusion of others ultimately brought Jews and Christians into conflict with the Roman authorities, in particular because of the rise of the Imperial cult, in which the emperors were gods and demanded public displays of worship (cf. the correspondence of Pliny the Younger in 111–113 ce with the Emperor Trajan about Christians, Ep. 10.96–97). In these instances, insistence on the sovereignty of God/Jesus over the rule (and supposed divinity) of the Roman emperors was the salient question. In the late 1st century all the way through the 3rd and into the early 4th century, Christians sometimes faced persecution and death for refusing to sacrifice to the emperor because of their monotheism. Two Jewish revolts (66–73 ce and 132–135 ce) both seem to have stemmed from Jewish resistance to Roman rule and its antipathy toward Jewish religious belief—in particular its relatively strict monotheism that insisted that its God was the only legitimate ruler of Judea. Tensions arising from such an issue are already evident in the controversy over the setting up of a statue of the emperor Caligula in the Jerusalem Temple (37–41 ce; cf. Philo, Embassy and Josephus, Ant. 2.257–272). Josephus reports that the zealots who were responsible for the first war against Rome believed in the sole sovereignty of God (cf. Ant. 18.23).

Bibliography N. MacDonald, “The Origin of ‘Monotheism’,” Early Jewish and Christian Monotheism (2004), 204–15.

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U. Mauser, “One God Alone: A Pillar of Biblical Theology,” PSB 12 (1991): 255–65. R. W. L. Moberly, “How Appropriate Is ‘Monotheism’ as a Category for Biblical Interpretation?” in Early Jewish and Christian Monotheism, ed. Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Wendy E. S. North, JSNT 263 (London and New York: T&T Clark International, 2004), 216–34. KEVIN P. SULLIVAN

Related entries: Deuteronomy, Book of; Emperor Cult; Greek Religions; Idols and Images; Imperial Cult, Jews and the; Isaiah, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Persecution, Religious; Persian Religion; Roman Emperors; Roman Religion; Worship.

Moriah, Mount The place-name “Moriah” initially occurs in the story of the binding of Isaac (Gen 22:1– 19). Here it is actually described as a “land” where, on “one of the mountains” (22:2), which remains unnamed, Abraham was commanded to sacrifice his son. The paraphrasing account in the Book of Jubilees adds that the place was “a high land” (Jub. 18:2; the LXX to Gen 22:2). The Genesis narrator also mentions that “Moriah” was located some three days’ journey from Beersheba (22:4, 19a). This distance, however, may be more typological than strictly descriptive, as a journey completed “on the third day” is a common motif in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. Exod 3:18; 5:3; 15:22; Num 33:8; 10:33; Josh 9:17; 1 Sam 30:1). As there is no hint in which direction Abraham traveled from Beersheba, interpretive sources differ regarding Moriah’s location, i.e., whether it was in “the land of the Amorites” (so the Syriac Peshitta; cf. Num 21:31; Josh 24:8), Mount Zion in Jerusalem (Jub. 18:13 and Alexander Polyhistor in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.30.5, without referring to Moriah), or Mount Gerizim, as in Samaritan tradition (Kalimi 2002: 9–58). In the Hebrew Bible, “Moriah” as a mountain appears only in 2 Chronicles 3:1, where it is given as the location of Jerusalem Temple, a detail that is lacking in 1–2 Kings. The Chronicler thus seems to have transformed “Moriah” from a reference to a land to a reference to a mountain, as if to imply that the region was named after the holy mountain located there. Josephus (Ant. 1.224), perhaps reflecting the tradition of 2 Chronicles, explicitly locates Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac on “the mountain Moriah.” Similarly, the later Targum Neofiti to Genesis 22 combines the “land of Moriah” (Gen 22:2) with “Mount Moriah” (2 Chr 3:1).

Bibliography I. Kalimi, Early Jewish Exegesis and Theological Controversy (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2002). ISAAC KALIMI

Related entries: Aqedah; Chronicles, Books of; Faith and Faithfulness; Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Sacrifices and Offerings; Samaritans.

Mosaics Mosaic art in Second Temple Judaism consisted of floors paved with small cubes (“tesserae”) typically cut from limestone, though other materials like glass were occasionally used in small amounts (Ovadiah and Ovadiah 1987: 147–52). The medium was rare in Hellenistic-period

515

Mosaics

Palestine, with the earliest known examples appearing in the late 2nd and early 1st centuries bce at the pagan sites of Tel Anafa and Tel Dor (Talgam 2014: 7–10). The presence of a mosaic in the last phase of the Hasmonean bathhouse at Jericho reflects a growing receptivity to the art form among Jewish elites (Hachlili 2009: 6). Mosaics became more common in the Roman period. They appear in both Jewish and non-Jewish contexts in domestic as well as public architecture. Pre-70 ce Jewish examples are found in Herodian palaces and elite residences in Jerusalem. They bore geometric and floral designs and patterns typical of Greco-Roman art but avoided anthropomorphic and zoomorphic images (Hachlili 2009: 5–14; Talgam 2014: 7–25). One of the bathhouse mosaics from the Herodion, e.g., consists of a black square frame around a multicolored design with a guilloche encircling a central rosette; in addition, pomegranates decorate the spaces at the square’s corners (Figure 4.79). A meander and rosette design in the 1st-century ce Magdala synagogue foreshadows mosaics’ frequent incorporation in Late Antique synagogues (De Luca and Lena 2015: 312). As mosaics became more common after the two revolts, Jews could have

Figure 4.79  Mosaic floor from bathhouse in Herod’s palace at Herodium.

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Moses

encountered designs depicting humans, mythological figures, and animals, especially in cities like Sepphoris (Talgam 2014: 27–38).

Bibliography R. Ovadiah and A. Ovadiah, Hellenistic, Roman and Early Byzantine Mosaic Pavements in Israel (Rome: “L’erma” di Bretschneider, 1987). R. Talgam, Mosaics of Faith: Floors of Pagans, Jews, Samaritans, Christians, and Muslims in the Holy Land (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi; University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2014). MARK A. CHANCEY

Related entries: Architecture; Baths; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herod the Great; Romanization; Sepphoris; Wealth and Poverty.

Moses In the Hebrew Bible, Moses is presented as the one chosen by God to lead the Israelites out of their enslaved existence in Egypt and to mediate the Ten Commandments. Traditions about Moses expanded and, with time, associated him so closely with the Sinai Torah that an increasing number of traditions were attributed to his authorship by compilers and redactors of the Pentateuch, especially in Exodus (17:14; and chs. 24, 31–32, and 34), Numbers (33:2), and Deuteronomy (ch. 31), while some instructions were retroactively ascribed to the revelation at Sinai (Lev 7:34, 37–38; 25:1; Num 3:1). As the giving of the Torah under his leadership was regarded as a defining moment in the making of Israel as God’s covenant people, the figure of Moses would be idealized as a unique “prophet” whom YHWH “knew face to face” (Deut 34:10), as a miracle worker (e.g. Exod 4:30; 7:10, 20; 8:13; 14:21; etc.) and, especially, as God’s “servant” par excellence (e.g. Ex 14:31; Num 12:7–8; Deut 34:5; Jos 1:1–2; 1 Kgs 8:53, 56; 1 Chr 6:49; Neh 1:7; Ps 105:26; Isa 63:11; Dan 9:11; Mal 4:4). The process of idealization continues in various forms in Second Temple writings, reaching its zenith in later Samaritan tradition. Palestinian Jewish Literature.  Several writings composed during the 2nd century bce develop tradition about Moses from the Hebrew Bible in distinct ways. Ben Sira identified divine wisdom with “the law that Moses commanded us as an inheritance for the congregations of Jacob” (24:23). He considered Moses, “whose memory is blessed,” as a God-chosen prophet, a holy miracle man, a unique lawgiver, and as equal in glory to the holy ones. Moses was chosen from all flesh for his meekness and faithfulness, was allowed to hear God’s own voice, and received from him “commandments, the Torah of life and wisdom” (Sir 45:1–4). The Book of Jubilees, which is presented as God’s additional Torah-revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai, portrays Moses as a lawgiver (1:1–4) and as an intercessor for Israel (1:18–19), ascribing to him extensive eschatological knowledge (cf. ch. 23). In Jubilees 47–48 God narrates an account of Moses’ own life through the angel of presence. In Jubilees Moses is not the author of the Torah but is merely its recipient and mediator, similar to Enoch (1 En. 1; 82:1–4; 91:1–10; 93:1–2; 103:1–2). The text of the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch, however, initially refers to Moses as a “sheep” who, after the Sinai revelation and golden calf incident, is transformed into a “man,” i.e., an angelic being (1 En. 89:36). The Assumption of Moses contains a farewell speech by Moses to Joshua (1:6–10:15) in which he predicts the future course of Israel’s history. Here Moses is the mediator 517

Moses

of the covenant, chosen for this role by God since the beginning of the world, and given all secrets of creation and of the latter days. Moses is lauded by Joshua as “that sacred spirit,” “worthy of the Lord,” “master of leaders,” “divine prophet,” and the “perfect teacher” for whom no suitable resting place could be found on earth (11:16). Pseudo-Philo’s Liber antiquitatum biblicarum (LAB, 1st cent. ce) includes embellishments for the biblical accounts pertaining to Moses, such as Miriam’s prophetic dream before Moses’ birth (9:10) and the detail that he was born circumcised (9:13). LAB is unique in stating that God prevented Moses from entering the land because he did not want him to see the graven images by which Israelites would be deceived (19:7). Before Moses’ death, God revealed to him “things that are forbidden for the human race because they have sinned against God” (19:10). Moses’ appearance becomes glorious as he dies, and the heavenly hosts stop singing—the only time in all past and future history—because of their love for Moses. He was buried by God himself (19:16). In 2 Baruch (early 2nd cent. ce) the law is the lamp given by Moses to illuminate all and to divide between life and death (17:2). God showed to Moses the heavenly Jerusalem, the mysteries of the universe, the course of human history, the greatness of paradise, the mouth of hell, the place of faith, the orders of archangels, and a multitude of other wonderful things (59:2–11). The figure of Moses is central to 2 Baruch since the author realizes that after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, Israel is left with only “the Mighty One and his Torah,” the latter of which was given by Moses (85:3). It is curious that Moses does not seem to have been prominent in all Judaic systems of Second Temple Palestine. Thus, in 1 Enoch he appears only in the eschatological dream visions (cf. 1 En 89:15–40, 2nd cent. bce), and virtually all of his roles (such as prophet, lawgiver, intercessor, deliverer, mediator of the covenant, etc.) have been transferred to Enoch. Another intriguing case is Josephus’ massive Jewish War, which, unlike his later works, simply refers to Moses as “the lawgiver” four times (2.145, 152; 3.376; 5.401; also Ant. 1–4) without mentioning him by name (Feldman 1993). Diaspora Jewish Literature.  Unsurprisingly, Moses played a prominent role in much of diaspora Jewish literature, and there are two main reasons for this standing. First, it was mainly the observance of Mosaic Torah that defined Judaism in the diaspora, and second, as a consequence, Moses was the main figure of Jewish tradition familiar to non-Jews. Not a few pagan intellectuals were critical of Moses and his laws, a view that evoked a lively apologetic response from diaspora Jews. In the fragments of 2nd-century bce Jewish peripatetic Aristobulus, Moses is presented as an original philosopher from whom all major Greek philosophers (as well as Homer and Hesiod) learned. His contemporary Artapanus, whom some scholars regard as rather unorthodox, claimed that Moses was a great general who also brought civilization to Egypt, teaching the Egyptians all forms of culture from mechanics to religious cults. Both Aristobulus and Artapanus claimed Moses was the teacher of Orpheus, with the latter identifying him with the poet Musaeus. In their contemporary Ezekiel the Tragedian’s Exagoge, Moses ascends to heaven, is seated on God’s throne, and receives from God symbols of authority and dominion over all. Philo (early 1st cent. ce) is a prime example of a diaspora Jewish author for whom Moses is indisputably central (Meeks 1967: 100–30; Feldman 2007). His lengthy work, On the Life of Moses, is an aretalogy, in which Moses is portrayed as a king (1.60–62; 2.3), lawgiver (e.g. 1.1–2; 2.3), prophet (1.156; 2.3), high priest (2.3), and divine man (cf. 2.99, 188; Mack 1972: 33). Philo 518

Moses

might have intended this work as an introduction to Judaism for sympathetic gentile intellectuals. He also believed that Greek philosophers relied on Moses and his “philosophy” (e.g. Her. 214; Leg. 2.15; Mut. 208, 223), and saw him as the living embodiment of the Law, a divine mystic (Gig. 54; Migr. 67, 171; Mos. 2.264), and a prophet of God (Ebr. 85; Mos. 2.188). If Philo was familiar with contemporary traditions of Moses’ ascension and deification, he allegorized them (Migr. 84; Meeks 1968). Josephus (late 1st cent. ce), who did not mention Moses by name in his earlier Jewish War, made Moses and his “constitution” a focal point of his retelling of Jewish history in Jewish Antiquities. The main idea of Jewish Antiquities is that all humanity should observe the laws of Moses. Josephus’ treatment of the Judean lawgiver in this work can also be classified as aretalogy. In Against Apion, Josephus credits Moses with establishing the Judean theocracy, the most perfect and divine form of government and society (Ag. Ap. 2.157–172). The Temple cult he established was a universal type of divine worship for the benefit of all humanity (Ag. Ap. 2.193). The idea that Moses and his politeia (constitution) arouse gentile respect and admiration is a Leitmotif in Jewish Antiquities. New Testament.  Several functions attributed to Moses during the Second Temple period are also picked up and adapted in New Testament writings, though his position is ultimately subordinated to an emphasis on Jesus. In this vein he is regarded as a prophetic prototype for Jesus (see the quotations of Deut 18:15 in Acts 3:22; 7:37). Moreover, Moses is positively designated as “the servant of God” (Rev 15:3; cf. Heb 3:5) and instructions associated with him are frequently taken as matters for appropriate or more radical interpretation rather than rejection, especially in the Synoptic Gospel traditions (e.g. Mark 1:44; 7:10; 10:3; 12:9, 26; Luke 16:31). Above all, however, it is Moses’ association with the Torah that is emphasized as an underpinning frame of reference, whether the latter represents one pool of tradition alongside others (e.g. with the prophets; cf. Luke 16:29, 31; 24:27, 44; John 1:45; Acts 26:22–23; cf. Rom 3:21) or is that which, through contrastive comparison (cf. Rom 9:30–10:4; Gal 3:19–23; Heb 7:19), underscores the significance of Jesus (cf. Lierman 2004). Conclusion.  In light of Moses’ prominence in the Pentateuch, which seems to have been central to the worldview of most Jews in the Second Temple period, it is not surprising that many writings of the time accord him an important, if not decisive, role. It should also be noted that Moses is the main ancient Jewish figure known to gentile authors writing about Jews (Gager 1972). It is curious, then, that he seems to have played a subordinate or secondary role in some influential Second Temple Jewish works (e.g. 1 Enoch, Josephus’ Jewish War).

Bibliography L. H. Feldman, “Josephus’ Portrait of Moses,” JQR 82 (1991–1992): 285–328; 83 (1992–1993): 7–50; 83 (1993), 301–30. L. H. Feldman, Philo’s Portrayal of Moses in the Context of Ancient Judaism (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007). J. Gager, Moses in Greco-Roman Paganism, SBLMS 16 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1972). J. Lierman, The New Testament Moses: Christian Perceptions of Moses and Israel in the Setting of Jewish Religion, WUNT 2.173 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). B. L. Mack, “Imitatio Mosis: Patterns of Cosmology and Soteriology in the Hellenistic Synagogue,” SPhilo 1 (1972): 27–55. 519

Moses Texts from Qumran

W. A. Meeks, The Prophet-King. Moses Traditions and the Johannine Christology (Leiden: Brill, 1967). W. A. Meeks, “Moses as God and King,” in Religions in Antiquity: Essays in Memory of E. R. Goodenough, ed. J. Neusner (Leiden: Brill, 1968), 354–59. MICHAEL TUVAL

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Decalogue; Deuteronomy, Book of; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Exodus, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Matthew, Gospel of; Miracles and Miracle Workers; Moses Texts from Qumran; Numbers, Book of; Pauline Letters; Prophets, Texts Associated with.

Moses Texts from Qumran The numerous allusions and references to Moses among the Dead Sea Scrolls gave rise to the designation of these writings as “Moses Texts.” While many pseudepigraphical and apocryphal books have been named after much lesser personages—Noah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel—all attempts to identify an “Apocryphon of Moses” (Strugnell 1990) have failed (Feldman and Goldman 2014: 163, 261, 266). Most accounts among the Dead Sea texts that treat the figure of Moses relate to episodes from the wanderings in the wilderness and Mount Sinai, wherein he serves as lawgiver (cf. Exod 24:12; Deut 31:9) and the one who anoints Aaron to the priesthood (Exod 30:30) and Joshua as his successor (e.g. Deut 1:38; 3:28; 31:7). Although accounts vary in accordance with the genre, it is the “rewritten Bible” texts that offer the most sustained attention to Moses and depict him in both of these respects. In terms of emphasis, while the sectarian literature in Hebrew focuses more on Moses’ role as lawgiver, the Aramaic documents emphasize him as anointer. 4QApocryphal Pentateuch A and B (4Q368, 4Q377) preeminently address the themes of the giving of the Torah on Sinai and God’s speaking directly with Moses in the tent of meeting. Both texts quote Exodus 33:11 (4Q368 1 3; 4Q377 2 ii 6). The former applies the phrase “face to face” to God’s self-disclosure to Moses (see also 4Q504 1–2 iii 12). The latter, however, refers to the giving of the Torah and God’s revelation to the whole people, as well as to the divine revelation Moses receives, described as a pillar of cloud descending upon the tent of meeting (cf. Exod 33:9). Moses’ prophetic status is established through various designations; he is called “man of God” (‫איש האלוהים‬, ʾyš hʾlwhym - 4Q377 2 ii 10; 4Q378 3 i 4), “heralder” (‫מבש[ר‬, mbś[r - 4Q377 2 ii 10; cf. Isa 52:7), “man of (the) mercies” (‫איש חסדים‬,ʾyš ḥsdym 4Q377 2 ii 8; 2 ii 12), and “intercessor” (for Your people)” (4Q374 7.2 – ‫מליץ לעמך‬, mlyṣ lʿmk, drawing on Deut 33:74; cf. 2Q21 1; 4Q368 3.7). 4Q377 2 ii 4–5 also ascribes to him the anointed status (‫משיחו‬, mšyḥw) attributed to the prophets in various sectarian writings (e.g. CD A vi 1) in order to emphasize that the commandments he delivers must be heeded (cf. Deut 18:18; Feldman 2011: 160–61). Some scholars argue that the statement “as an angel he spoke from His mouth” (4Q377 2 ii 11) indicates Moses’ supernatural nature—an idea developed in later works such the Ascension of Moses (cf. Van Henten 2003: 225–26). More probably, the text signifies that Moses remained human and, as such, is to be compared with an angelic messenger (“as an angel”) due to his receiving God’s self-revelation (Feldman and Goldman 2014: 217). 4Q368 1–2 and 1QapocrMosesa? (1Q22) treat events from the wilderness wanderings and the giving of the laws, with the latter presenting Moses’ words to the people on Mount

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Nebo (cf. Deut 34:1). Noting the verbal affinities between 1Q22 and Jubilees, Werman (2017) suggests that both portray Moses as having given two law tablets. 1Q22, however, is more likely a reworking of Deuteronomy (see Feldman and Goldman 2014: 231). The Apocryphon of Joshua (cf. 4Q378–379, 4Q522) constitutes the principal source of the depiction of Moses as Joshua’s anointer and model (Feldman 2013: 69). Here, as in 4Q377, he is probably also called a “ma]n of God” (cf. 4Q378 3 i 4). The references to Moses in the Aramaic scrolls are less significant, with most occurring in the Visions of Amram (4Q543–549). This work may refer to him by the Hebrew name, Malachia (cf. Duke 2007: 37–41). The text also suggests that his central role was the erection of the altar (4Q547 9.3–4) and the anointing of Aaron as high priest (4Q547 9.7). His explicit identification as “Aaron’s brother” (4Q546 10.3) makes it clear that, as in other Aramaic texts in which Levi and his priestly offspring stand at the center, Aaron is the chief protagonist. The Hebrew literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls depicts Moses primarily as lawgiver, with repeated references to “the law of Moses” (e.g. 1QS v 8, viii 15, 22; CD A xv 9 [4Q266 8 i 3], xvi 2 [4Q271 4 ii 4], 4Q513 3–4.5). While according to the biblical text the ordinances he delivers from God are interpreted by subsequent prophets, the latter gain a more prominent place in the Qumran texts; this shared responsibility for revealing the divine law is indicated through the phrase, “by the hand of Moses and his servants the prophets” (cf. 1QS i 1–3) (Jassen 2007: 38–40).

Bibliography R. Duke, “Moses’ Hebrew Name: The Evidence of the Vision of Amram,” DSD 14.1 (2007): 34–48. A. Feldman, “The Sinai Revelation According to 4Q377 (Apocryphal Pentateuch B),” DSD 18 (2011): 155–72. A. Feldman, The Rewritten Joshua Scrolls from Qumran: Texts, Translations, and Commentary, BZAW 438 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013). A. Feldman and L. Goldman, Scripture and Interpretation: Qumran Texts that Rework the Bible, ed. D. Dimant, BZAW 449 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014). J. W. Van Henten, “Moses as Heavenly Messenger in Assumptio Mosis 10:2 and Qumran Passages,” JJS 54.2 (2003): 216–27. J. Strugnell, “Moses-Pseudepigrapha at Qumran: 4Q375, 4Q376 and Similar Works,” in Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. L. H. Schiffman, JSPS 8 (Sheffield: JSOT, 1990), 221–56. C. Werman, “Moses in Jubilees,” in Die Idee des Mose—Eine rezeptionsgeschichtliche Betrachtung einer identitätsstiftenden Idee, ed. M. Simmer, E. Eynikel, V. Niederhofer, and E. Hernikscheck (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 77–95. LIORA GOLDMAN

Related entries: Apocrypha, “Old Testament”; Exodus, Book of; Exodus, The; Prophets, Texts Associated with; Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament”; Reworked Pentateuch (4QRP); Sectarianism; Sinai, Mount.

Multilingualism Just as in the modern world, so too in the ancient: bilingualism and multilingualism (simply “bilingualism” as shorthand) were more common than monolingualism. So it was among the

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Multilingualism

Jews of Second Temple Palestine, Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek were all widely spoken and all were languages of literacy as well. Not everyone was trilingual, but most speakers were bilingual. From village to village the spoken Hebrew and Aramaic probably differed slightly; in both cases older and notably divergent literary forms of the language served for most writing tasks. Greek was the daily-use administrative language of the eastern Roman Empire. The form it took among the Jews was essentially the koine known also from Hellenistic and Roman Egyptian papyri, but with numerous Semitic loan words; in contrast to the situation with Hebrew and Aramaic, no literary dialect was superposed. In addition to these three main languages, Roman troops used Latin among themselves for official Roman business of various sorts and it, too, left its mark in the sources, although it was very much a minority tongue among the Jews. To the south and southeast varieties of Arabic were spoken, and to a limited degree they impinged on the Jews and their Semitic languages at the points of contact. In Phoenicia the ancient native tongue was still alive in the hinterland and may have affected Jewish Semitic in the region, but evidence on the matter is meager and largely inferential. Scholars study the phenomena of ancient bilingualism much as they do modern varieties, but of course without speakers, and so with comparatively severe methodological limitations. It is necessary to rely exclusively on the written evidence of various kinds that characterizes “corpus languages.” For Second Temple Jews in Palestine this written evidence is both literary and epigraphic. The epigraphic category includes not only inscriptions per se (prominently sepulchral inscriptions) but also documentary material such as letters, contracts of many genres, and receipts. Despite the necessary limitations, a considerable amount may be discovered. It is convenient to divide the evidence that emerges from the written record into categories reflecting individual bilingualism, on the one hand, and those of the greater society on the other. As to individuals, scholars frequently distinguish four types of evidence that appear in corpus languages. First are bi-version bilingual texts, wherein two versions of the same text appear in two or even three different languages in a single document or inscription. Second Temple Palestine examples include P.Hever 8, a bilingual Doppelurkunde with a Hebrew outer text and an Aramaic inner, and P.Jericho 8/10, (probably) another double contract that displays the reverse. Nearly 10% of the 600-odd inscribed ossuaries known from Jerusalem feature names or short phrases in two or even three languages, and they fit here as well. A second individual category is texts with bilingual phenomena. These are writings ostensibly in one language but with imbedded evidence that points to a bilingual writer. Such evidence includes linguistic interference, borrowing of words and structures, and code switching (Swain 2002). Under the category of interference would come the frequent difficulties with proper Greek case usage apparent in many of the Greek contracts from the Judean Desert. Since Hebrew and Aramaic had no case endings in this period, Jewish native speakers of those languages often struggled with this feature of Greek. Examples can be found in Germanus ben Judah, scribe of P.Yadin 20–27; Ben Simon, writer of P.Yadin 19; and most especially the anonymous scribe of P.Hever 64. The texts from the Judean Desert furnish many examples of lexical borrowing. To speak only of Aramaic letters and subscriptions to contracts (the two written genres closest to speech), Greek borrowings include ‫( באספליה‬bʾsplyh) “securely” (Gk. ἐν ἀσφαλείᾳ, en asphaleia); ‫אכלס‬

522

Multilingualism

(ʾkls) “army” or “crowd” (ὄχλος, ochlos); ‫( פרן‬prn) “dowry” (φερνή, phernē); ‫( נמוס‬nmws) / ‫נמוש‬ (nmwś), “law” or “custom” (νόμος, nomos); ‫( אפטרפא‬ʾpṭrpʾ) “guardian” (ἐπίτροπος, epitropos); and the legal calque ‫( לחשבן פקדון‬lḥšbn pqdwn) “on account of deposit” (calqued on εἰς λόγον παραθήκης, eis logon parathēkēs). Borrowings from Latin include ‫ לטם‬‎(lṭm) (ladanum, a spice) and ‫( דינר‬dynr) (denarius), and from Nabatean Arabic ‫חב‬‎‫( צ‬ṣaḫiba) “to object” and‎ ‫צפא‬ (ṣafā) “clear (claims).” Lexical Hebraisms are very numerous, both in the documents and in literary texts such as the Dead Sea Scrolls. The reverse is also true, Hebrew texts borrowing promiscuously from Aramaic. On rare occasions borrowing between the Semitic languages includes grammatical structures, such as the use in a Hebrew contract of Aramaic‎ ‫( הון‬hwn) for the Hebrew plural possessive suffix (hm) ‫הם‬. As to code switching, note the Beth ‘Amar contract, which the writer scribed in Aramaic except for an acknowledgment from a widow that extends for several lines. There he switched to Hebrew, quite possibly to capture her actual speech. Code switching also occurs on the ossuaries, where there are perhaps a half-dozen examples of Hebrew words used in what are otherwise Aramaic sentences or identifying phrases. Thus, one ossuary reads “Hananiah bar John the Nazirite,” with the last word in Hebrew; another reads “Joseph bar Hananiah the scribe,” shifting so that the final word is Hebrew ‫( הסופר‬hswpr) rather than the Aramaic equivalent ‫( ספרא‬sprʾ). One might almost categorize the Beth ‘Amar contract under the third individual category, mixed language texts. In these cases two languages are so mixed or jumbled in a text that its primary language is hard to assign. Otherwise this category is very rare among the Jews, perhaps known only from lists where people signed their names or had them listed in Hebrew or Aramaic according to no discernible pattern. The fourth category for individuals is transliterated texts; here the writer uses script B to write language A. This is likewise a rare category for Palestine in this period, but one example is 4Q186, an astrological physiognomic writing, encrypted through the use of mirror writing and a mixture of languages and scripts. The base language is Hebrew, but on occasion the writer transliterated Hebrew letters with Greek ones (e.g. α for ‫ א‬and β for ‫)ב‬, and in one instance wrote a vav in Cryptic-Script A rather than choosing paleo-Hebrew or the Jewish script. Moving from individual to societal bilingualism, an important feature of Second Temple Jewish culture is the presence of Hebrew diglossia. Different kinds of diglossia are common in bilingual societies. In cases of “classic diglossia,” such as this one, a very divergent and highly codified superdialect serves as a vehicle for literature (Wise 2015: 297–98). No one speaks the superdialect as a mother tongue; rather, it must be learned in school. Hebrew dialects were widely spoken in this period (evidence suggests that 65–80% of Judeans knew one), but they differed significantly from Standard Biblical Hebrew, the superdialect, or H(igh) language (Fassberg 1992). These L(ow) dialects had recast the biblical verbal system, with the complete disappearance of the vav-consecutive narrative structures, along with the loss of the infinitive absolute and basic volitive forms. The vocabulary was significantly different as well. Speakers of L dialects had also lost as many as eight consonantal phonemes from the original inventory of 25 known from the H variety. These phonemes were often pronounced, however, in formal readings of the Bible. Thus uneducated peasants could not understand a good deal of the Hebrew Scriptures they heard read in the synagogue, just as today uneducated speakers of vernacular Arabic dialects cannot comprehend the classical Arabic of the Qur’an when read to them (see Osborne 2012).

523

Murabbaʿat, Wadi

For Aramaic, too, distinct forms of a literary dialect (Standard Literary Aramaic or SLA) were used for writing books and legal documents (Wise 2015: 318–20, 329–30). These forms derived from the Reichsaramäisch of Persian times, and indeed, some scholars would equate them, so similar were they. For Aramaic the gap between spoken and written dialects was not so wide as with Hebrew—this was not diglossia—but peasants might struggle to understand certain words and constructions they heard read. For example, SLA forms of Aramaic distinguished gender for certain verbal forms where the spoken dialects did not; and the morphology of derived stem infinitives differed between the two, sometimes notably.

Bibliography S. E. Fassberg, “Hebraisms in the Aramaic Documents from Qumran,” Abr-Nahrain, Supplement 3 (1992): 48–69. R. Osborne, “Cultures as Languages and Languages as Cultures,” in Multilingualism in the GraecoRoman Worlds, ed. A. Mullen and J. James (Cambridge: University Press, 2012), 317–34. S. Swain, “Bilingualisim in Cicero? The Evidence of Code-Switching,” in Bilingualisim in Ancient Society, ed. J. N. Adams, M. Janse, and S. Swain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 128–67. MICHAEL OWEN WISE

Related entries: Armenian; Babatha Archive; Bar Kokhba Letters; Coptic; Ethiopic; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Hellenism and Hellenization; Latin Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters); Romanization; Slavonic; Syriac.

Murabbaʿat, Wadi Wadi Murabbaʿat (Heb. Naḥal Tekoa/Darga) is a deep ravine descending eastwards from around Herodium, across the Judean Desert plateau, to the Dead Sea (see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]). Wadi Murabbaʿat came to the attention of scholars in late 1951, when it became clear that documents from the Bar Kokhba period (132–135 ce), which were offered for sale by Bedouin, originated in caves on the northern slope of the wadi. Murabbaʿat caves are located some 25 km southeast from Jerusalem, some 18 km south of Qumran, about 3.5 km west of the Dead Sea, at approximately sea level. The four initial caves were explored by G. L. Harding, R. de Vaux, and D. Barthélemy in January–March 1952. The fifth cave, on the southern slope, which yielded the Twelve Minor Prophets scroll, was discovered by the Bedouin in 1955. The finds made in these caves and at other nearby sites are dated between the Chalcolithic and the early Islamic periods. Apart from artifacts such as oil lamps, combs, baskets, remains of leather/cloth, pottery, weapons, medical instruments, and coins, a significant number of documents written in Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and Arabic were discovered either by Bedouin or by archaeologists. Most artifacts and written documents had been left in the caves when humans used them as places of refuge (Stern 2000; Fields 2009: 115–29). The only written document from the First Temple period discovered in Wadi Murabbaʿat is a Hebrew papyrus palimpsest dated to the early 7th century bce; it contains a list of Judahite names overwritten by a two-line letter. From the Second Temple period before 70 ce there are more documents—there is an ostracon mentioning Masada, which is paleographically dated between 125 and 100 bce. If the dating is correct, it proves that this fortress was indeed originally built by Hasmoneans. Another document is an IOU note dated 55/56 ce from Tsoba near Jerusalem, and there are four deeds of sale from the period of the First Jewish revolt, from Jerusalem, and a writ of divorce from the same period originating in Masada. 524

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Figure 4.80  View from inside Murabbaʿat Cave 1.

Figure 4.81  The entrance to Murabbaʿat Caves 1 (right) and 2 (left).

The most important documents from Wadi Murabbaʿat are dated to the period of the Bar Kokhba revolt. The first group of these consists of biblical manuscripts; they include Deuteronomy, found in Cave 1 (Figure 4.80); the already mentioned Twelve Prophets scroll (which preserves readings from most of the Twelve, except Hos and Mal), found in Cave 5; portions of Genesis, Exodus, and Numbers (perhaps originating from a single scroll), and several verses from Isaiah—as well as tefillin and mezuzah texts—all from Cave 2 (Figure 4.81). In contrast to the earlier manuscripts of Hebrew Bible texts discovered at Qumran, the form of the biblical manuscripts discovered in Wadi Murabbaʿat (as well as at other contemporary sites, such as Naḥal Ḥever) witnesses to a standardization of biblical texts in the direction of the Masoretic Text. No less important than the biblical manuscripts are non-literary documents from the period before and during the Bar Kokhba revolt, including financial documents and letters which were brought to Wadi Murabbaʿat toward the end of the revolt from the area of Herodium. All of them stem from Cave 2. Among them are four marriage contracts and a farming contract. The documents which perhaps evoked most interest are those dealing with various matters immediately related to the revolt. Several of them deal with fiscal matters, and two are letters from Bar Kokhba to a certain Yeshua ben Gilgula—the first of which is enigmatic in its mention of the “Galileans.” Two other documents are fragmentary, but belong to the same period. In addition the caves yielded a couple of Roman documents from the 2nd century ce and some fiscal and magical documents in Greek and Arabic from the early Middle Ages. These materials show no immediate relation to the Jewish documents described above (Benoit, Milik, and de Vaux 1961; Patrich 1993; Eshel 2000).

Bibliography H. Eshel, “Murabba‘at, Wadi: Written Material,” EDSS (2000), 1:583–86. J. Patrich, “The Wadi Murabba‘at Caves,” NEAEHL (1993), 3:833–35. E. Stern, “Murabba‘at, Wadi: Archaeology,” EDSS (2000), 1:581–83. MICHAEL TUVAL 525

Music

Related entries: Babatha Archive; Bar Kokhba Letters; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Deuteronomy, Book of; Exodus, Book of; Genesis, Book of; Masada, Archaeology of; Masada, History of; Masada, Texts from; Minor Prophets; Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters); Numbers, Book of; Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic; Papyri; Revolt, Second Jewish.

Music The music of early Judaism existed solely as an oral tradition and belonged to the Arab-Semitic culture of the ancient Near East (Miller 2011: 104–13). In that culture music was not a discrete aural phenomenon. Rather, as “organized sound,” it was an element integral with various kinds of human activity. Additionally, instrumental sound (including instrumental noise) was widely believed to be apotropaic. The sound of the lyre (‫כנור‬, knôr), especially, was believed to suppress chthonic influences. Greek culture included discrete musical awareness at musical competitions, but such events were not part of early Jewish culture. In the Jewish interface with Hellenism the term “music” (μουσικη, mousikē / ‫מזמור‬, mzmôr) implied a combination of organized sound and one or more “non-musical” elements (e.g. Sir 32:3; Mas1h Sir). Organized sound was typically a single melodic line, without harmony or polyphony, formed from a succession of traditional vocal and instrumental motifs. Intervals smaller than a semitone were common. There was no tonal hierarchy; apparently random pitches provided medial and final resting points. Cultic music at the Temple was intrinsic to the rituals (Braun 2002: 8–10; Smith 2011: 33–60). The cultic song (‫ זמר‬, zmr /  ‫שיר‬, šyr) of Levite musicians combined instrumental sound (lyre, “harp” [‫נבל‬, nbl], cymbals [‫מצלתים‬, mṣltym]) and singing (e.g. 1 Chr 25:1). The cultic shout, probably combining acclamation and instrumental noise (Ps 95:1–2; 98:4, 6; Ezra 3:11), and the sound of metal trumpets (‫חצוצרת‬, ḥṣôṣrt) blown “over” sacrifices (Num 10:2a, 8, 10) were apotropaic ritual elements. Processions and other non-sacrificial rituals took place with similarly inherent organized sound, including that of hand drum (‫תף‬, top) and pipe (‫חליל‬, ḥlyl). Metal trumpets, the ram’s horn (‫שופר‬, šôpr), and the wild goat’s horn (‫יעל‬, yʿl) were used for signaling (e.g. m. Roš Haš. 3.3–5; on instruments, see Kolyada 2009). Cultic music beyond the Temple was exemplified by the synagogal cantillation of liturgy and scripture (Smith 2011: 117–66), the synagogal use of rams’ horns for signaling, the domestic rendering of the Hallel at Passover (m. Pesaḥ 10.5–7), the singing of the Therapeutai (Philo, Contempl. 10.80; 11.83–9), the Qumran community’s hymns/songs (e.g. Hodayot [1QHa]; Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice [4Q400 = ShirShabba]), and ring dances with the sound of pipe and sacred song (Ps 87:7; Matt 11:17; Acts John 94–6). Outside the cult, the sound of song, hand drum, and pipe belonged with dancing and rejoicing. The sound of piping, lamentation (‫קינה‬, qynh), wailing (‫נהי‬, nhy), and hand clapping belonged with funerary rites (e.g. m. Šabb. 23.4; Moʿed Qaṭ. 3.8–9; m. Ketub. 4.4). There were work songs (Num 21:17–18), wedding songs (3 Macc 4.6; Jos. Asen. 21.11–21; m. Soṭah 9.11), and the wedding drum (1 Macc 9:39b; m. Soṭah 9.14).

Bibliography J. Braun, Music in Ancient Israel/Palestine (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002). Y. Kolyada, A Compendium of Musical Instruments and Instrumental Terminology in the Bible (London: Equinox, 2009). 526

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R. D. Miller, Oral Tradition in Ancient Israel, Biblical Performance Criticism 4 (Eugene: Wipf and Stock/ Cascade, 2011). J. A. Smith, Music in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011). J. A. Smith, “Music,” in The Dictionary of the Bible and Ancient Media, ed. T. Thatcher, C. Keith, R. F. Person, and E. R. Stern (London: Bloomsbury, 2017), 235–38. JOHN ARTHUR SMITH

Related entries: Burial Practices; Festivals and Holy Days; Hellenism and Hellenization; Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; Marriage and Divorce; Masada, Texts from; Synagogues; Worship.

Mystery The concept of mystery in Jewish Antiquity is difficult to circumscribe, as it may cover many and varied fields. In the Septuagint, μυστηριον (mystērion) is systematically used for the Hebrew (rāz), ‫רז‬,ָ “secret, mystery.” In later Greek translations it can also stand for ‫( סוד‬sôd). Such is, e.g., the case in Sirach 3:19–20 or in the revisions of the Septuagint in Job 15:8; Proverbs 11:13; 20:19; Psalm 24(25):14. This phenomenon most certainly reflects a semantic transformation of ‫( סוד‬sôd) in late Biblical Hebrew, where it tends to be closer to ‫( רז‬rāz, see 1QHa xx 15–16). Although the words possess similar semantic ranges, their worlds are not completely the same. ‫( סוד‬sôd) is linked to the notion of “human or divine counsel” and, by extension, to “secret” in a sociological sense, i.e. the private communication of an “in-group” (Wewers 1975; Bockmuehl 1990). ‫( ָרז‬rāz) is a Persian loanword which is present in the Hebrew text of Ben Sira, in the Aramaic section of Daniel, in the Dead Sea Scrolls and, later, in rabbinic Hebrew, Palestinian and Babylonian Aramaic, Samaritan Aramaic, Christo Palestinian Aramaic, and Syriac. Both words are also associated with ‫נסתרות‬, (nistārôt), “secret things,” the plural niphal participle of ‫( סתר‬str) seen in neighboring contexts (see Deut 29:28 or Sir 3:22, where it is translated in the Greek by τα κρυπτα, ta krypta). In the preserved Hebrew fragments of the book of Ben Sira, the word ‫( רז‬rāz) is found twice in Sirach 8:18 (where it is translated into Greek by κρυπτος, kryptos, which is the normal translation of ‫סוד‬, sôd) and in Sirach 12:11 (without any equivalent in the Greek). In both cases its meaning is clearly secular and designates a human secret, and is a semantic equivalent to the Hebrew ‫סוד‬ (sôd, see Sir 6:6; 15:20; etc.). On the other hand, in Sirach 3:20 the word ‫( סוד‬sôd) has a more theological meaning, designating Wisdom’s secret revealed to the poor (translated into Greek by μυστηριον, mystērion). In the Book of Daniel, the word ‫( רז‬rāz) is present eight times, but only in the Aramaic sections, where it refers to the interpretation of the king Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (Dan 2:18). This mysterious interpretation concerns the future (“the end of days,” ‫אחרית יומיא‬, ʾḥryt ywmyʾ, Dan 2:28–29) and is revealed by God—“the revealer of mysteries (‫גלא רזיא‬, glʾ rzyʾ)”—to Daniel in a nocturnal vision (Dan 2:19). In the Dead Sea Scrolls (Thomas 2009), the word occurs 154 times in the Hebrew and 21 times in the Aramaic. Scholars consider most of these incidences to be based on the narrative in Daniel. The word covers different fields and ranges of meaning. R. E. Brown (1968) and M. Bockmuehl (1990) have differentiated four categories: mysteries of divine providence, mysteries of the sect’s interpretation of the law, cosmic mysteries, and evil mysteries. As in the book of Ben Sira, the words ‫( רז‬rāz) and ‫( סוד‬sôd) also have the concrete meaning of “what is concealed,

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secret,” e.g., in 4Q270 2 ii 12–13 (“to divulge the secret of his people to the pagans”) or in 4Q416 2 ii 8 (“to preserve your secrets”). The most widespread use is for divine revelation of mysteries to a specific group or person. In 1QpHab vii 5, e.g., it is said that God made known to the Teacher of Righteousness “all the mysterious revelations of his servants the prophets,” attributing to him the correct interpretation of these texts. The same idea is widespread in the Hodayot, where the narrator declares that he knows the secrets of creation because God has revealed to his ears “his marvelous mysteries” (1QHa ix 23) and, for this reason, he considers that he is “an expert interpreter of wonderful mysteries” for the elect of righteousness (1QHa x 15). His knowledge covers not only that of the origin of the cosmos and of its present but also that of its destiny (1QHa v 30). The concept of mystery is closely tied not only to the domains of revelation and knowledge, but also to teaching and instruction (1QS ix 18). From a rhetorical point of view, use of the word creates a distance between those who pretend to have access to this knowledge and the others. The expression ‫( רז נהיה‬rz nhyh), “mystery of existence,” deserves special attention. It is present 30 times in 4QInstruction, once in 1Q27 iii 3–4 (and par.), and once in 1QS xi 3–4. It signifies all existence: past, present, and future in its theological dimension, just as God planned it, from creation until the eschaton. In a broader sense, it means the entire divine mystery, as well as its implications in history and in life. In 4QInstruction this mystery is revealed, communicated, studied, meditated on, and murmured day and night. The Torah and the ‫( רז נהיה‬rz nhyh) should not be divergent realities, even though the latter is broader, covering not only the Torah but also creation, the present world, and eschatology. In Enoch’s Book of Watchers, mysteries involve more specifically Asael’s sin, which “has revealed the eternal mysteries that are in heaven” (1 En. 9:6 [ḥebu’ Eth. | μυστηριον, mystērion Gr.]; 8:4 [‫[ רזין‬rzyn] 4Q201 1 iv 5 | μυστηριον, mystērion Gr. Sync.]; and compare with 16:3 [mestir Eth. | μυστηριον, mystērion Gr.]). By contrast, and positively, in the Book of the Parables, Enoch is the beneficiary of the revelation of mysteries that concern, among other things, cosmological and eschatological knowledge (Triplet-Hitoto, 2011: 68–70): “I have seen all the vision of that which is secret [ḥebu’ Eth.] (…) my eyes saw the secrets of heaven [ḥebuʾata samay Eth.] (…) everything which is secret [ḥebuʾ Eth.] will be revealed to you” (1 En 52:1–5). In the New Testament the word mystērion is attested three times in the Synoptic Gospels (Mk 4:11 par. Matt 13:11 and Luke 8:10), most often in the Pauline Letters (21x), and four times in Revelation. Brown (1968) has demonstrated that the meaning of mystērion in the New Testament was more probably rooted in Semitic thought than in the pagan mystery religions. The Synoptic attestations (Mk 4:11 and par.) which evoke a “mystery of the kingdom of God” given to a specific group, namely those with Jesus in opposition to outsiders, is close to the Qumran conception of the revelation of mysteries (cf. esp. 4QInstruction; elsewhere in Second Temple Judaism: 2 Bar 48:2–3; 4 Esd 12:36–7). In the Pauline letters, the word mystērion is used in different ways. It could refer to something incomprehensible or mysterious, as in 1 Cor 14:2, but more commonly it refers to the divine plan—past, present, or future—that has been revealed and must be understood via the death and the resurrection of Jesus, the messiah (Rom 11:25; 16:25). Paul proclaims to the Corinthians the “mystery of God” (1 Cor 2:1; 4:1) and “God’s wisdom, secret and hidden (θεοῦ σοφιάν ἐν μυστηρίῳ τὴν ἀποκεκρυμμένην, theou sophian en mystēriō

528

Mystery Religion, Judaism as

tēn apokekrymmenēn)” (1 Cor 2:7) (Gladd 2008). In Eph 3:2 he declares that this mystery has been made known to him by revelation.

Bibliography M. N. A. Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, WUNT 36 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990). R. E. Brown, The Semitic Background of the Term Mystery in the New Testament, FBBS 21 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1968). B. L. Gladd, Revealing the Mysterion: The Use of Mystery in Daniel and Second Temple Judaism with Its Bearing on First Corinthians, BZNW 160 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008). S. I. Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran: Mystery, Secrecy, and Esotericism in the Dead Sea Scrolls, EJL 25 (Atlanta: SBL, 2009). V. Triplet-Hitoto, Mystères et connaissances cachés à Qumrân: Dt 29, 28 à la lumière des manuscrits de la mer Morte, L’écriture de la Bible 1 (Paris: Cerf, 2011). G. A. Wewers, Geheimnis und Geheimhaltung im rabbinischen Judentum, RVV 35 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1975). JEAN-SÉBASTIEN REY

Related entries: Eschatology; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Hellenism and Hellenization; Jesus of Nazareth; Mystery Religion, Judaism as; Sectarianism.

Mystery Religion, Judaism as The expression “Mystery Religion” is used to denote a type of religious organization that was widespread in the Greco-Roman world. Because the rituals and liturgies of these religions were secret and only available to the full initiates, and because much of what is known about them comes from detractors, it is difficult to describe them reliably in detail. Nonetheless it is possible to adduce enough commonalities in such descriptions to infer certain general conclusions. It appears that each mystery religion was based upon a story or myth concerning a certain deity— Dionysius, Orpheus, Isis, Mithras, or Demeter, e.g. (cf. representative texts in Meyer 1987). The story or myth usually focused on some aspect of suffering or death and then on subsequent healing, renewal, or resurrection. The central rituals of the “mystery” thus consisted of adherents recounting the story or myth, performing certain symbolic reenactments of the myth, and undergoing some sort of symbolic trauma or death and then recovery (Agus 2011: 76–143). Many remnants of this religiosity are apparent in various aspects of the Judaisms that took shape in late antiquity. One common example is the Sabbath evening meal in which the participants are reminded that in six days the deity created the world and then rested on the seventh, as the participants are now about to do on the Sabbath. This all represents a movement from work and labor to a kind of liberation. Another striking example is the Passover Seder. Modeled on the Roman symposium (Tabory 1999; contra Bokser 1984), the ceremony features the retelling of the story of the exodus and includes several symbolic reenactments, including especially the eating of unleavened bread. The story, as is true of mystery religions, begins in slavery (a kind of “death”) and ends with liberation and renewal (and even a messianic renewal in the rebuilt Jerusalem). A defining element that seems to have distinguished mystery religions from other GrecoRoman religions consisted in two levels of “membership,” an inside group that knew the secret doctrines and ceremonies of the group, and an outer group that were in some sort of novitiate or trial status and were not allowed to participate fully in the core rituals.

529

Mystery Religion, Judaism as

The clearest example in Second Temple Judaism of such a classically formed mystery religion is that which is outlined in the Rule of the Community and the so-called Damascus Rule of the Dead Sea Scrolls library. These documents describe a holy community based around the (true or righteous) priesthood that has been alienated from the Jerusalem Temple dominated by the Wicked Priests (or Belial). This true, Zadokite, priesthood sees itself as experiencing a kind of exile or limbo awaiting the fulfillment of the divine plan (sometimes called the secret or mysterious plan) to purge the Temple of its religious pollution and return the true priesthood (and so God’s rule) to Israel (Haas 2012; García Martínez 1994: lv–lvii). The text of the Rule of the Community in 1QS v–vi is concerned with those who wish to join this priestly community. Such potential members are told the benefits of joining the holy community and the curses that await those who adhere to the sin and evil of the present day. These initiates respond with “amen,” reenacting the constitution of the original community under Moses at Mounts Ebal and Gerizim as described in the Book of Deuteronomy. These persons then undergo a trial period, or novitiate, for one year before gaining full admission (1QS vi, e.g.; Josephus describes a similar novitiate, though of two years, for Essenes, in J.W. 2.137–142). At that point they are allowed to drink “the communal drink” and eat of the “communal food” of the core community, in essence partaking symbolically of the true sacrifices as performed by the righteous priesthood. The above interpretation is strengthened by the Damascus Rule (cf. CD A ii 14–iii 20) which tells readers that those willing and able to accept the truth revealed by the Zadokite priesthood will enjoy the eternal blessings promised in the Torah when the wicked, who follow the deceitful priesthood in the Jerusalem Temple, will be cleansed away. For all the differences with respect to content, the Rule of the Community and Damascus Rule reflect a religion that is modeled on what can be observed of mystery religions elsewhere (Haas 2012). Jewish rituals today operate on an entirely different model. The Mishnah, which sets out the foundation of rabbinic Judaism, did not so much model itself on mystery religions as on a community of people who lived separate but holy lives in everyday society. Nonetheless, the influence of early Greco-Roman mystery religions has left its traces (Bokser 2002: 50–66).

Bibliography S. Agus, The Mystery-Religions, 2nd ed. (New York: Dover, 2011). B. Bokser, The Origin of the Seder: The Passover Rite and Early Rabbinic Judaism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984). P. J. Haas, “Was the Judaism of the Dead Sea Scrolls a Mystery Religion,” in Focusing Biblical Studies: The Crucial Nature of the Person and Hellenistic Periods, ed. Berquist and A. Hunt, LHB/OTS 544 (London: T&T Clark: 2012), 229–39. M. Meyer, ed., The Ancient Mysteries: A Sourcebook of Sacred Texts (Philadelphia: HarperCollins, 1987). J. Tabory, “Toward a History of the Paschal Meal,” in Passover and Easter: The Origin and History to Modern Times, ed. P. F. Bradshaw and L. H. Hoffmann (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 62–80. PETER J. HAAS

Related entries: Damascus Document; Hellenism and Hellenization; Mystery; Romanization; Sectarianism; Zadokites.

Mysticism—see Merkabah Mysticism & Hekhalot Texts (pt 4) 530

Nabatea

Nabatea The kingdom of Nabatea, Judea’s near neighbor to the east, first becomes “visible” in the late 4th century bce, being mentioned by Diodorus Siculus in the context of Seleucid incursions from Syria (19.94–97). Diodorus recounts that the Nabateans retained their independence, revealing in passing that they conducted their diplomatic communications in Aramaic. It is clear that Petra was the major Nabatean center (Figure 4.82), though there is obscurity about its link with Sela’ (which enjoyed some importance earlier). The next period in which the Nabateans are mentioned frequently in sources is the middle of the 2nd century bce, when they appear quite often in the story of the Maccabean revolt (e.g. 1 Macc 5:25–6). Both Diodorus and the books of Maccabees provide information on the Nabateans as they were seen by others (and there are some later accounts, such as that of Strabo, Geogr. 16.4.21, 26), but the historian has to wait until the 1st century bce for native Nabatean inscriptions that provide a direct perspective (see Map 8: Hasmonean Rule [II] [103–63 bce]). It appears that the rulers of Nabatea, though they may have been of Arabian origin (Healey 1989), had earlier adopted Aramaic as their written language. It is probable that many of the areas they ruled (such as southern Syria at certain periods and the area at the southern end of the Dead Sea around biblical Zoar) were Aramaic-speaking, but other Nabatean regions used North Arabian dialects such as the so-called Safaitic (northern Jordan). It is widely held that the Nabatean élite (the royal family, etc.) retained their traditional Arabic-related tongue in normal speech, while using Aramaic as a diplomatic and commercial language (since it had a long tradition in such use in the region). There are over 6,000 Nabatean inscriptions which have survived and been published (see the volumes of CIS II and Hackl et al. 2003), though many come from areas which may never have been under Nabatean control (such as Sinai), many post-date the destruction of the Nabatean kingdom by the Romans in 105/6 ce, many are classified as Nabatean solely because they use

Figure 4.82  General view of the center of Petra showing the Colonnade and the Dushara Temple. 531

Nabatea

the characteristic form of the Aramaic alphabet best known from Petra and other Nabatean centers. Within this large number of inscriptions, there are, however, several hundred which can be regarded as properly Nabatean, and many of these are dated according to the regnal years of Nabatean kings. The longer inscriptions are mostly funerary in character, and many come from the Nabatean site of Ḥegra in northwest Saudi Arabia (Healey 1993). Other inscriptions contain religious dedications and memorials of individuals. A few have legal content, though the main source of knowledge of Nabatean law comes from the series of Nabatean papyri preserved in the Babatha Archive: Babatha had lived and inherited property on the east side of the Jordan within the Nabatean kingdom (for a selection of inscriptions and papyri see Healey 2009: 52–121). The religious life of the Nabateans (Healey 2001; Alpass 2013) can only be sketched on the basis of a few remarks by outsiders writing in Greek and of often laconic religious inscriptions. Inscriptions and other sources tend to mention the names of gods without giving many clues about the characteristics of the particular deities. It is clear, however, that the main god was Dushara. He appears to be a local deity, not an import from Arabia, and there is a hint that he had a planetary character, being called “the one who separates day from night” (Healey 1993: 81–5; note in comparison Targum Onqelos on Gen 1:14). Several inscriptions suggest that he was regarded as head of the pantheon or divine family. He came to be identified with several other deities: Aʿra in Boṣrā, Zeus, Dionysos, and Helios. Further, he was regarded as the god par excellence of the royal family. Titles like “the god of our lord (king) Rabel” remind one of the God of the Fathers of the Hebrew Bible and may be characteristic of nomadic tradition. Strabo records that the Nabateans worshiped the sun (Geogr. 16.4.26). Goddesses worshiped include Allāt, al-ʿUzzā, and (at least in the southern part of Nabatea) Manāt, all three appearing also in early Islamic traditions. Other deities include Hubal, al-Kutbā, and the widely venerated Syrian deities Baʿalshamīn and Atargatis. The former had a temple at Wādī Mūsā, the village to the east of Petra, while the latter seems to have been worshiped by a small number of devotees, perhaps of Syrian origin. Isis, who enjoyed wide popularity in the Roman world, is also in evidence as the object of a specialist cult at Petra. There are other themes in Nabatean religion which have a clear echo across the Jordan: the marzēaḥ, with religious sodalities holding symposia, was a manifestation of popular piety; the religious formula “Remembered be …” followed by a personal name is common; aniconism— not of the programmatic kind seen in Judaism and Islam, but de facto aniconism—a cultural preference for worshiping non-figurative representations of gods, is clear in some parts of society; and, finally, there is a tendency to merge deities and concentrate worship almost in monotheistic style on a main god (Dushara) and his spouse (Allāt or al-ʾUzzā).

Bibliography P. Alpass, The Religious Life of Nabataea, RGRW 175 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). U. Hackl, H. Jenni, and Ch. Schneider, Quellen zur Geschichte der Nabatäer, NTOA 51 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003). J. F. Healey, “Were the Nabataeans Arabs?” Aram 1 (1989), 38–44. J. F. Healey, The Nabataean Tomb Inscriptions of Mada’in Salih, JSS Supp. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). J. F. Healey, The Religion of the Nabataeans, RGRW 136 (Leiden: Brill, 2001). J. F. Healey, Aramaic Inscriptions and Documents of the Roman Period, TSSI 4 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). 532

Nag Hammadi Codices

K. D. Politis, ed. The World of the Nabataeans, Oriens et Occidens 15 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner Verlag, 2007). G. Markoe, ed. Petra Rediscovered (London: Thames & Hudson, 2003). Ch.-G. Schwentzel, Juifs et Nabatéens, Collection “Histoire” (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2013). JOHN F. HEALEY

Related entries: Coele-Syria; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Multilingualism; Seleucids.

Nag Hammadi Codices The Nag Hammadi codices are a collection of Coptic manuscripts discovered in approximately 1945 in Egypt close to the modern, eponymous city of Nag Hammadi (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). The Nag Hammadi codices consist of 13 codices containing 52 separate tractates (for English translations, see Robinson 1988; Meyer 2007), four of which appear therein in two exemplars (Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit; Eugnostos the Blessed; Gospel of Truth; On the Origin of the World) and one of which even appears in three versions (Apocryphon of John). The manuscripts of these works, in their present form (Robinson 1972–1984), were copied at the end of the 4th century, but many of the original texts were composed earlier, from the 2nd to the early 4th century, either in Greek or Coptic. Robinson, who tracked down and interviewed one of the presumed discoverers of the manuscripts, reports that the codices were found in a jar by three brothers searching for natural fertilizer at the foot of the Jabal al-Tarif, a cliff a few kilometers away from Nag Hammadi (Robinson 1979: 207–24). The fact that some leather covers of the codices were strengthened with the help of cartonnage, partly made of papyri used for monastic letters and business documents, seems to suggest, according to Robinson, that the manuscripts had been manufactured in one of the two nearby Pachomian monasteries (Chenoboskia and Pabau) for monastic use. At a later date, they were buried at the Jabal al-Tarif for safekeeping, when the orthodoxy of these texts had come into question (Robinson 1988: 1–26). Some scholars, doubting the veracity of Robinson’s informant, rather believe that the manuscripts were discovered in connection with a grave robbery in a nearby cemetery. According to this line of thinking, the Nag Hammadi codices were probably not produced in a monastery but in a private scriptorium, which would also have been able to use the remnants of some monastic papyri to produce the cartonnage. Thus, the collection would have belonged to a rich individual who would have used it for his or her personal purposes and wanted to have it buried in his grave (Krause 1978: 242–43; Denzey and Blount 2014). The bulk of the texts in the collection belongs to the so-called gnostic texts, representing Sethian, Valentinian, and other less precisely identifiable gnostic writings, but there are also several tractates that cannot be deemed “gnostic.” The latter (which include, e.g., Apocryphon of James, Gospel of Thomas, Book of Thomas, Dialogue of the Savior, Teachings of Silvanus, and Sentences of Sextus) do not contain the typical gnostic idea of an evil or ignorant creator, separate from the highest God. Some of the Nag Hammadi writings represent Hermetic thought, in which Greek philosophical ideas are combined with ancient oriental wisdom to create texts that help readers to attain salvation through a contemplative experience of God. Though none of the Nag Hammadi texts can be considered Jewish per se, many of the texts incorporate or refer to biblical or later Jewish traditions that have been employed as such, rewritten, or strongly criticized. For example, the non-gnostic Teachings of Silvanus is largely

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indebted to Hellenistic-Jewish wisdom material similar to that of the book of Wisdom or Philo (Pearson 2007). The Gospel of Thomas discusses several Jewish religious practices, but it either rejects them (prayer, fasting, almsgiving, dietary, and purity regulations) or interprets them so that they no longer have anything to do with their actual observance (Sabbath observance and circumcision; see Marjanen 1998). Many of the so-called Sethian texts utilize and rewrite the cosmogonical myth of Genesis, combining it with Jewish wisdom speculations about wisdom (Sophia), a figure who plays an active role in creating the visible world. In the Apocryphon of John, this results in a mythical story in which Sophia unintentionally creates the evil creator God (Yaldabaoth), an obvious caricature of the Jewish God (YHWH) that captures divine human souls in material bodies and tries to prevent them from being freed from the prison of the material body. Another important feature of Genesis 1–11 which plays an important role in Sethian cosmogonies is Adam’s third son Seth, who is seen as the divine ancestor of the “seed of Seth,” “the immovable race,” a name that refers to future Sethian gnostics whose origin is in the realm of the highest God (cf. Apocryphon of John; Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit; Apocalypse of Adam). In the most important Valentinian mythological treatise of the codices, Tripartite Tractate, the anthropogony and the story of the human fall are also based on the narrative of Genesis (see Part II 104, 4–108,12), which has clearly undergone Valentinian rewriting. The text that is most critical of biblical and Jewish traditions is the Second Discourse of Great Seth. In addition to the creator God (Yaldabaoth), all biblical heroes from Adam to Moses and John the Baptist are seen as “jokes.” On the basis of the title of the tractate, the only biblical figure who is considered worthy of respect is Seth, the incarnation of whom appears to be Jesus, the speaker of the text.

Bibliography N. Denzey and J. A. Blount, “Rethinking the Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices,” JBL 133 (2014): 399–419. M. Krause, “Die Texte von Nag Hammadi,” in Gnosis: Festschrift für Hans Jonas, ed. B. Aland (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978), 216–43. A. Marjanen, “Thomas and the Jewish Religious Practices,” in Thomas at the Crossroads: Essays on the Gospel of Thomas, ed. R. Uro (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 163–82. B. A. Pearson, “The Teachings of Silvanus,” in Nag Hammadi Scriptures: The International Edition, ed. M. Meyer (New York: HarperCollins, 2007), 499–521. J. M. Robinson, ed. The Nag Hammadi Library in English (3rd rev. ed.; Leiden: Brill, 1988). J. M. Robinson, “The Discovery of the Nag Hammadi Codices,” BA 52 (1979): 207–24. J. M. Robinson, ed. The Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, 11 vols (Leiden: Brill, 1972–1984). ANTTI MARJANEN

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Gnosticism; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Jesus of Nazareth; Wisdom Literature.

Naḥal Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters) Introduction.  Above Naḥal Ḥever, a dry riverbed located between ʿEin-Gedi and Masada just west of the Dead Sea, two cave complexes have yielded important finds dating to the Second Temple period (see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]). Respectively, they are called “The Cave of Letters,” located on the north side of the canyon, and “The Cave of Horrors,” which is located to the south and a little to the west. 534

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The cave complexes were first explored in 1953 by the Israeli archaeologist Yohanan Aharoni. During the years following the initial discoveries of the Dead Sea Scrolls in caves near Khirbet Qumran (1947–1956), Israel undertook to see if further discoveries could be made in a 30-mile stretch to the south among caves off the western shores of the Dead Sea. Under the auspices of The Israel Exploration Society, campaigns were organized from 1959 to 1961. In 1960 and 1961 Nahman Avigad, Pesah Bar Adon, Yohanan Aharoni, and Yigael Yadin were assigned to head teams to explore four areas of the desert. Avigad worked at ʿEin-Gedi, the “Cave of the Pool” and the Naḥal David area; Bar Adon went to Naḥal Mishmar; Aharoni oversaw work at the Cave of Horrors; and Yadin focused on the north side of Naḥal Ḥever. While most of the caves contained Chalcolithic finds and materials from the Roman period, the Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters provided evidence for human habitation during the Second Temple period, as well as for manuscript fragments related to them. In 1999–2001 the University of Hartford, together with a consortium of American, Canadian, and Israeli researchers, mounted three seasons of work in the Cave of Letters (Freund 2005). This research team conducted geophysical subsurface mapping of the cave and determined that earlier layers to the cave still lay buried under limestone roof fall (Freund 2005: 71–79). This led to the further recovery of hundreds of pieces of textiles, ceramic daily ware, ovens, food, wood, and nine coins (including a shekel from the First Revolt against Rome dated to 68 ce). Carbon 14 testing of the palm frond basket with the bronze artifacts suggests that they were buried during an earlier period and not from the Bar Kokhba stratum. Combined with Yadin’s extensive work in the Cave of Letters, the more recent excavations make it possible to posit four major periods of occupation that parallel those of most other Dead Sea caves: Level 1 (135–2004 ce)—all modern materials discovered in the cave from the period after Bar Kokhba to the present Level 2 (132–135 ce)—the Bar Kokhba revolt Level 3 (68–132 ce)—the First Revolt and aftermath Level 4 (4500–3200 bce)—Chalcolithic period The Cave of Letters.  The Cave of Letters is the largest cave complex to have been excavated along the Dead Sea. Having contained a large variety of finds, it runs to over 100 m in length and divides into three separate “halls” (A, B, C) (Figure 4.83). Yadin’s excavations in the Cave of Letters (Yadin 1963, 1971) are significant; in addition to the Chalcolithic finds, almost all of the materials recovered from Halls A, B, and C can be associated with Jewish life of the 1st and 2nd centuries ce. The most well-known materials discovered there consist of 15 letters (Hall C), with some of them even signed by Bar Kosiba (i.e. Simon ben Kosiba, leader of the Second Jewish Revolt against the Romans in 132–135 ce), and of some 35 legal documents of the “Babatha Archive” dating from 93 to 132 ce. The letters and documents of the Bar Kokhba correspondence are written in Aramaic, Hebrew, and in Greek (Lewis 1989) and provide a snapshot of life during the years following the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple; e.g. one letter (P Yadin 57) documents a request, possibly by Bar Kokhba, for the four supplies (palm branches, citrons, myrtle branches, and willows) required to perform the Sukkot ritual during the revolt (Wise 2015: 248–50). The documents in the Babatha Archive are written in Aramaic, Nabatean, Hebrew, and Greek (Lewis 1989; Yardeni 2000); they are associated with a Jewish businesswoman (Babatha) who owned real estate in ʿEin-Gedi, and they provide valuable insight into the holding of property, 535

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Figure 4.83  Cave of Letters, Judean Desert, Israel.

inheritance practices, and family institutions (e.g. marriage) with which she contended (Cotton 1993, 1994a, b). As such, these legal documents, which relate to matters administrated all the way from ʿEin-Gedi to Petra, offer more about the status of Jewish women during this period than any other available ancient sources. In addition to the literary finds recovered during the 1960 and 1961 campaigns, the Cave of Letters also yielded daily ceramic ware, wood, and ovens, along with the skeletal remains of men, women, and children that had been buried in burial niches, some of which were still dressed in colorful textiles. In Hall A, Yadin discovered a Bar Kokhba coin (with another one found just outside the cave), fragments of a Psalms manuscript, a limestone cup, and, hidden under nearly 5 feet of debris, a palm frond basket filled with the largest hoard of bronze objects ever discovered in Israel. The latter included 19 items such as keys, paterae, jugs, juglets, and incense shovels. A decoration on a patera suggested to Yadin the presence of pagan influence even though almost every other find in the cave could be associated with Jewish life. The Psalms manuscript demonstrates not only that it was copied during the 1st century ce but also that it represents an unusual textual tradition (Bouzard 2003). The Psalms manuscript does not contain the familiar superscripts (e.g. “for a harp,” “for the choir master,” and, in one case, “to David” for Ps 15), suggesting that it is a shorter text to which additions would later be made. The Cave of Horrors.  In the Cave of Horrors, so called because of the gruesome discovery of the bones scattered about the site, Aharoni’s team (1961, 1962) found the remains of at least 40 536

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people, including children and infants, in a space much smaller than that of the Cave of Letters. The finds here included coins, nails, wood, pottery, remains of baskets, food, flints, rope, and an important fragment from a Greek translation of the Twelve Minor Prophets.

Bibliography Y. Aharoni, “The Expedition to the Judean Desert, 1960, Expedition B,” IEJ 11 (1961): 11–24, pls. 4–11C. Y. Aharoni, “Expedition B—Cave of Horror,” IEJ 12 (1962): 186–99, pls. 23–34. W. C. Bouzard, “The Psalms Manuscript from the Cave of Letters (5/6 Ḥev) Reconsidered,” DSD 10 (2003): 319–37. H. M. Cotton, “The Guardianship of Jesus Son of Babatha: Roman and Local Law in the Province of Arabia,” Journal of Roman Studies 83 (1993): 94–108. H. M. Cotton, “A Cancelled Marriage Contract from the Judaean Desert,” JRS 84 (1994a): 64–86. H. M. Cotton and J. C. Greenfield, “Babatha’s Property and the Law of Succession in the Babatha Archive,” ZPE 104 (1994b): 211–24. R. A. Freund, Secrets of the Cave of Letters (New York: Prometheus Press, 2005). N. Lewis, The Documents from the Kokhba Period in the Cave of Letters—Greek Papyri, Judean Desert Studies 2 (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Shrine of the Book, 1989). Y. Yadin, The Finds from the Bar Kokhba Period in the Cave of Letters (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1963). Y. Yadin, Bar Kokhba: The Rediscovery of the Legendary Hero of the Last Jewish Revolt against Imperial Rome (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971). RICHARD A. FREUND

Related entries: Bar Kokhba Letters; Clothing and Dress; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Jewelry; Masada, History of; Papyri; Pottery; Psalms, Book of; Revolt, First Jewish.

Names and Naming In the post-biblical period the patterns of naming in Jewish communities the world over took on distinct patterns, some of them already evident in the Bible, but most of them new and unique. Since in post-biblical Judaism most Jews no longer spoke Hebrew, it was not Hebrew but biblical names that became the chief markers for identifying a Jew (Ilan 2011). If a person bore a biblical name—like Joseph or Jonathan or Miriam—s/he could be identified as Jewish, because non-Jews did not make use of these names until the advent of Christianity. The biblical names that Jews used follow unexpected patterns. The most dominant one is the complete absence (at least in the land of Israel) of the use of the names of the most prominent and revered biblical heroes—Abraham, father of the Jews; Moses, their deliverer from Egypt and bringer of the law; and David, the legendary king. The names Aaron (father of the priesthood) and Elijah (the most prominent prophet) were also not in use. Instead, the preferred biblical names were those of secondary figures such as Jacob, Joseph, Judah, Benjamin, Joshua, Saul, Jonathan, Elisha, and also (surprisingly and very prominently) Ishmael. One can speculate that reverence prevented use of the names of the most prominent heroes, and that people felt more comfortable using the names of less perfect characters. What one does see, though, is that next to the biblical figures, contemporary heroes of Jewish history in the Second Temple period served as major sources of inspiration for naming. Among

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the nine most popular names of male Jews in the land of Israel are found the five Hebrew names of the Hasmonean brothers—Johanan, Shimeon, Judas Maccabeus, Eleazar, Jonathan—and the name of their father, Matthias (the other three are Joshua, Joseph, and Hananiah). This is a strong indication of Hasmonean popularity among the Jewish population at the time. Together the persons bearing these six names constitute 30% of the named male Jewish population known. It is also an indication that originality in naming was not favored. This argument can further be supported by female names, where two—one biblical name, Miriam, and one merely Hebrew, Salome—cover half the known population. A naming phenomenon very clearly present in post-biblical Judaism that one does not find in the Bible at all is paponomy, i.e. naming the son after the grandfather, and even patronomy, i.e. naming the son directly after the father. One can follow this phenomenon first and foremost in royal dynasties like the Hasmoneans, where, e.g., the name Matthias appears for the founder of the family and for his grandson (135 bce; 1 Macc 16:14) and then for his great-great-great grandson (Matthias Antigonus; 40–37 bce), or the Herodians, where the name Agrippa appears for father and son. Jews, however, also used non-biblical, non-Jewish names (as already in the Bible, where Moses bears a distinctly Egyptian name). Greek culture influenced the Jews to such an extent that they often preferred Greek to biblical names. Thus, a great sage in the 2nd century bce was called Antigonus (of Sokho; see m. ‘Abot 1:3). The Hasmonean kings bore Greek names like Aristobolus or Alexander. It is of course impossible to identify a person as Jewish who is recorded merely with a Greek name. He can only be identified as such if some other characteristic marks him/her as Jewish. Thus it is best to conclude that the phenomenon of Jews bearing Greek (and other foreign) names was significantly more widespread than the historical record can prove definitively.

Bibliography T. Ilan, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity, 4 vols. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002–2011). TAL ILAN

Related entries: Family; Genealogies; Hasmonean Dynasty.

Nazareth Nazareth lies 15 miles west of the Sea of Galilee and 20 miles east of the Mediterranean Sea, north of the Jezreel Valley, and about 350 m above sea level (see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). Name and Etymology.  Nazareth is not mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, the Mishnah, or Josephus. Although a small village at the turn of the Common Era (see below), it is identified as the polis (πόλις) of Jesus in the New Testament, where it occurs 23 times. It is said that Jesus came from “Nazareth” (Ναζαρέτ, Nazaret; e.g., Mark 1:9, 24) in fulfillment of a prophecy that he will be called a “Nazarene” (Ναζωραῖος, Nazōraios; Matt 2:23), though the prophecy to which it refers is unclear. Most suggest an allusion to Isaiah 11:1, which states that “a branch (‫נצר‬, nṣr) shall grow out of (Jesse’s) roots” (Elitzur 2004: 11, 227–28, 334; Albright 1946). Likewise, later Christian (Sextus Julius Africanus; Let. Arist. 5; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 1.7.14; Onom. 128.24; Origen,

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Comm. Jo.) and later Jewish sources (e.g. b. Sanh. 43a) would identify it with Jesus (InstoneBrewer 2011; Strange 2015: 172). According to a 4th-century ce inscription found at Caesarea, the priestly division of Hapizzez (cf. 1 Chr 24:15) settled in Nazareth after the destruction of Jerusalem and the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce (Avi-Yonah 1962; cf. Midr. Qoh. 2.8). Topography.  Nazareth was built on a soft limestone hill, making it suitable for inhabitants to carve compartments for food and cisterns for water storage. The soil was fertile and well-suited for growing grains, olives, fruits, and nuts, though the sloped land required farmers to construct artificial stepped terraces to raise the crops (Pfann, Voss, and Rapuano 2007). These were watered by the region’s plentiful rainfall and a natural spring, later reputed to be the well from which Mary drew water and hence called today “The Spring of the Virgin” (Bagatti 1969: 30). The town was not walled, and it is likely that the mountainous terrain and the three watchtowers, dating from the 1st to 5th centuries ce, provided sufficient security (Strange 2015: 169–70). Tombs dating from the early Roman (Herodian) period, located outside the parameters of the inhabited area, suggest a size of approximately 60 acres, 900 m from southwest to northeast by 200 m from southeast to northwest. The small size suggests a population of not more than 500 inhabitants during pre-Herodian and Herodian times. Archaeology.  Excavations exposed various artifacts dating to the Early Bronze Age II (3000– 2750 bce; Strange 2015: 171), but evidence of domestic habitations, discovered in caves, indicate there is no evidence for continuous occupation beyond a single generation until the late Hellenistic and early Roman period. The discovery of pottery from the 2nd century bce similar to that found elsewhere in Galilee corresponds with historical accounts (e.g. 1 Macc 5:9–20; Josephus, Ant. 12.330–334) of the repopulation of Galilee with Jews from Judea under the Maccabees (Strange 2015: 175). Similarly, coins dating to 175 bce and ten coins from the time of Alexander Jannaeus (103–76 bce) were found at “Mary’s well” (Berman 2012). Among the tombs hewn in the limestone hillside, five have been excavated that date from the early Roman period. They contained three nearly intact ossuaries and many fragments, which excavators suggest were placed there by refugees from Judea after the Bar Kokhba revolt (135 ce; Strange 2015: 176; Fieg 1990; Aviam and Syon 2002). Other items from the 1st century bce to the 1st century ce include pottery, glasswares, Hellenistic and Herodian lamps, and hand-carved or lathe-turned chalkstone vessels characteristic of 1st century bce/ce Jewish settlements (Magen 2002: 2–3; Strange 2015: 176). Synagogue and Miqveh.  Beneath the Church of the Annunciation was found what appeared to be remains from a synagogue, similar to Galilean synagogues of the 3rd and 4th centuries ce, but for a chi-rho cross decorating its mosaic floor (Bagatti 1969; Levine 2005: 45–49). It may thus have been a Jewish-Christian synagogue, or perhaps later (gentile) Christians retained and adapted portions of a prior synagogue (see Taylor 1993; Strange 2007). A Jewish ritual bath (miqveh) was also found, filled with debris likely dating to around the same time (Bagatti 1969: 118–23, 228–33). Though Luke 4:16–30 refers to Jesus teaching in a “synagogue” (συναγωγή, sunagōgē) in Nazareth, no such structure dating to the 1st century ce has been excavated (Strange 2015: 177). It may be that Luke’s usage of “synagogue” connotes a gathering place rather than a formal building (see Kee 1999).

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Significance.  The modest size of Nazareth suggests dependence upon Sepphoris, the capital of Galilee some 5 km to the north. However, the topography complicates the task of tracing ancient paths between them (Strange 2015: 171). Though in the New Testament Nazareth is always called a “city” (πόλις, polis; Matt 2:23; Luke 1:26; 2:4, 39), it was situated close to other more important cities (cf. Josephus, J.W. 3.280–306) such as Japha, which Josephus calls the largest village (κώμη, kōmē) in Galilee that he fortified in the First Revolt (J.W. 2.573; Life 188–270). The general archaeological picture is of a small village, devoted wholly to agriculture, that came into being in the course of the 3rd century bce. Its small size and general obscurity may lend to the negative perception indicated in John 1:46.

Bibliography W. F. Albright, “The Names ‘Nazareth’ and ‘Nazoraean’,” JBL 65.4 (1946): 396–401. M. Aviam and D. Syon, “Jewish Ossilegium in Galilee,” in What Athens has to Do with Jerusalem: Essays on Classical, Jewish, and Early Christian Art and Archaeology in Honor of Gideon Foerster, ed. L. V. Rutgers, Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Culture and Religion 1 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 151–85. M. Avi-Yonah, “A List of Priestly Courses from Caesarea,” IEJ 12 (1962): 137–39. B. Bagatti. Excavations in Nazareth, Vol. 1: From the Beginning till the XII Century (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1969). A. Berman, “The Numismatic Evidence,” in Mary’s Well, Nazareth: The Late Hellenistic to the Ottoman Periods, ed. Y. Alexandre, IAA Reports 49 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2012), 107–20. Y. Elitzur, Ancient Place Names in the Holy Land: Preservation and History (Jerusalem: Hebrew University/Magnes Press; Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2004). N. Feig, “Burial Caves at Nazareth,” ‘Atiqot 10 (1990): 67–79. D. Instone-Brewer, “Jesus of Nazareth’s Trial in the Uncensored Talmud,” TynBul 62 (2011): 262–94. H. C. Kee, “Defining the First Century CE Synagogue: Problems and Progress,” in Evolution of the Synagogue: Problems and Progress, eds. H. C. Kee and L. H. Cohick (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1999), 7–26. L. I. Levine, The Ancient Synagogue: The First Thousand Years, 2nd ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005). S. Pfann, R. Voss, and Y. Rapuano, “Surveys and Excavations at Nazareth Village Farm (1997–2002): Final Report,” Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 25 (2007): 19–79. J. F. Strange, “Archaeological Evidence for Jewish Christianity,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, eds. O. Skarsaune and R. Hvalvik (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007), 710–41. J. F. Strange, “Nazareth,” Galilee 2 (2015), 167–80. J. E. Taylor, Christians and the Holy Places: The Myth of Jewish-Christian Origins (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993). P. Viaud, Nazareth et ses deux églises de l’Annonciation et de Saint-Joseph (Paris: Picard, 1910). RICHARD A. FREUND AND DANIEL M. GURTNER

Related entries: Agriculture; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Hasmonean Dynasty; Inscriptions; Isaiah, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; John, Gospel of; Luke-Acts; Miqva’ot; Priesthood; Revolt, Maccabean; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Synagogues.

Nebuchadnezzar Nebuchadnezzar (Heb. ‫ )נבוכדנאצר‬is the Hebrew form of Akaddian Nabu-kudurri-uṣur, which means “Nabu may protect my firstborn son,” and is a Babylonian throne name. There are four 540

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Babylonian kings who bear this name: (1) Nebuchadnezzar I, the fourth ruler of the second dynasty of Isin (1126–1104 bce); (2) Nebuchadnezzar II, son of Nabopolassar, second ruler of the Chaldean dynasty and founder of the Neo-Babylonian empire (605–562 bce); (3) Nebuchadnezzar III, son of Nabonid, real name Nidintu-Bel, son of Ainarai, who rebelled against Darius I and reigned for three months in 522 bce; (4) Nebuchadnezzar IV, real name Aracha, son of Chaldita, who also rebelled against Darius I and reigned for seven months in 521 bce. Nebuchadnezzar I is known only through Babylonian sources and is famous for his war against Elam and the liberation of Babylonia from Assyria. Nebuchadnezzar III and IV are mentioned as rebel kings by of the Persian (Achaemenid) king Darius I (the Great) in his Behistun inscription and also in administrative texts from Babylonia. The most famous one, however, is Nebuchadnezzar II, who conquered and destroyed Jerusalem and, therefore, is also mentioned in the Hebrew Bible (e.g. 2 Kgs 24:10; 25:1, 8; Ezra 1:8; Neh 7:6; Jer 28:3; Dan 1:1). According to cuneiform records and classical sources Nebuchadnezzar II started as a military commander under his father Nabopolassar and participated in the destruction of the Assyrian empire and its capital Nineveh (612 bce) and fought in the battle of Carchemish (605 bce) against Egypt. Later he conducted some military campaigns to the Levant (Syria and Palestine) and, again, against Egypt in order to establish Babylonian suzerainty and to receive tribute. His major achievements after accession to throne, however, were huge building activities, including the ziggurat of Babylon (the “Tower of Babylon”), the walls of Babylon and the Ishtar gate, and the “Hanging Gardens.” It was this monumental building activity which made him famous and paved his way into the Greek and Latin classical literature. In the Hebrew Bible and later Jewish, Christian, and Islamic tradition, the capture of Jerusalem, the destruction of Solomon’s Jerusalem Temple, and the deportation of the Judean population into exile (597 and 587 bce) immortalized Nebuchadnezzar II in cultural memory. The historical reason for these events was the rebellion of the last Judean kings Jehoiachin and Zedekiah against the Babylonian reign and their refusal to pay tribute. In the biblical tradition, namely in the books of Jeremiah, 2 Kings, 2 Chronicles, and Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar’s punitive expeditions against Judah and Jerusalem are interpreted as divine punishment of Israel for their sins against their god YHWH. Therefore, the image of Nebuchadnezzar in the Hebrew Bible is ambiguous. On the one hand he is the great enemy and becomes the example of a tyrant par excellence (see Dan 3). In this perspective, his building activities are taken as signs of hubris (Gen 11; Dan 4). On the other hand, he is seen as an emperor who rules over the whole world, who was commissioned by the god YHWH (Jer 27; Dan 2). Provided that he realizes his commission by the one and only true god and acknowledges the kingdom of this god, he will keep his throne; otherwise, he will lose it (Dan 2 and 4–5). Both images are fictitious and were construed on the basis of common knowledge about Nebuchadnezzar and other (Babylonian and Jewish) sources, including materials originally associated with Nabonid, the last king of the Neo-Babylonian empire and real father of Belshazzar (Dan 4–5). One piece of this tradition, a parallel to the narrative in Daniel 4–5, was found among the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q242, “Prayer of Nabonidus”).

Bibliography R. G. Kratz, Translatio imperii: Untersuchungen zu den aramäischen Danielerzählungen und ihrem theologiegeschichtlichen Umfeld, WMANT 63 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1991).

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D. J. Wiseman, Nebuchadrezzar and Babylon, Schweich Lectures on Biblical Archaeology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991). REINHARD G. KRATZ

Related entries: Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Babylonian Culture; Chronicles, Books of; Daniel, Book of; Kings, Books of; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Persian Period.

Nehemiah Nehemiah the son of Hacaliah was a scion of the Jerusalem aristocracy (Neh 2:5) in the Judean exilic community in Mesopotamia and Persia. He was appointed governor of Judea by Artaxerxes I, and served between the years 445 and 433/2 bce, though some scholars have argued for a period before (Saley 1978) or after (Blenkinsopp 1988: 47–54) this range. His name and patronym reflect a hope for the restoration of the Jewish people. His vernacular name has yet to be discovered. He served as the king’s personal cupbearer, considered an honorable position by the Persians (Herodotus 3:34). Nehemiah is the earliest biblical historiographer known by name who writes without explicit mention of divine intervention. In his first-person account, he vividly describes the challenges and achievements of his governorship. He relies on chronological data and archival documentation and cites historical precedents. His oeuvre is infused with a religious feeling, expressed in his private musings and his public speeches, trusting in the power of prayer, in fasting, and in Providence. Moreover, the memoir is an apologia recalling his good deeds (6:19; 13:14, 22, 31), a votive document, deposited in the Temple from where it was excerpted by the later author of the composite history of the Book of Ezra. This composition, in turn, served writers, beginning in the 2nd century bce, as a formal basis for extolling Nehemiah’s deeds. It is to such documentation that 2 Maccabees 2:13 explicitly refers as “the records and memoirs of Nehemiah.” In addition, in line with the Nehemiah account, the writer of 2 Maccabees (also 2:13) goes on to attribute to Nehemiah the founding of a “library” (βιβλιοθήκη, bibliothēkē) and the collection of “books (βιβλία, biblia) about the kings and prophets, and those of David, and letters (ἐπιστολαί, epistolai) of kings about votive offerings.” Although the reference to a library remains vague and does not necessarily refer to the Torah itself, Nehemiah is credited with the gathering of writings that would eventually be recognized as part of the Hebrew Bible. When compared with other early references to groups of sacred texts in the prologue to Ben Sira (“the law, the prophets, other books of the fathers”), 4QMMT xxvi (“in the book of Moses, in the books of the prophets, and in David”), and Philo’s De vita contemplativa 25 (“laws,” “prophets,” “psalms and other writings”), the reference in 2 Maccabees to Nehemiah is the only one that includes the explicit mention of writings that refer to “kings.” Nehemiah was called by the Avestan title, Tirshatha (7:65; 10:2), i.e. “His Awesome Excellency” (Greenfield 1982). This activity of Nehemiah is again remembered in some detail in 2 Maccabees 1 (vv. 18, 20–21, 23, 31, 33, 36), as the writer enjoins Jews in Egypt to observe the festivals of Tabernacles and of Fire (1:18), the latter referring to the Festival of Lights (cf. Josephus, Ant. 12.325) associated with the rededication of the Temple. Though Nehemiah’s goal was to improve “the conditions of the Israelites” (2:10), his initial mission had been the reconstruction of the damaged Iron Age walls of Jerusalem, thereby defining the sacred precincts of the “holy city” and ensuing repopulation of the city. He restored

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the governor’s mansion in Jerusalem, where 150 people ate a sumptuous meal at his table (5:14–15). It is for these building projects that Nehemiah is extolled in Ben Sira 49:13: “He raised our fallen walls, and set up our gates and bars, and rebuilt our ruined houses” (NRSV). Nehemiah’s strong determination and his administrative ability overcame the attacks of his adversaries Sanballat the Horonite, the governor of Samaria, Tobias the governor of Ammon, and Geshem the Arab ruler of the Kedarites, who controlled international desert routes. Despite differences of opinion regarding their chronological relationship, Nehemiah seemingly partnered with Ezra the Scribe, the ombudsman in charge of Jewish affairs throughout the satrap of Eber Nehar. They worked on such central issues as fiscal reforms, banishing the foreign wives (cf. Ezra 10 and 1 En. 10:9) and creating a new social contract called the Amanah (Neh 9–10). The references to Nehemiah in Ben Sira, 2 Maccabees, and 1 Esdras leave no doubt that he was actively remembered during the 2nd century bce (e.g. Wright 2004: 308).

Bibliography A. Demsky, “Pelekh in Nehemiah 3,” IEJ 33 (1983): 242–44. A. Demsky, “Who Came First Ezra or Nehemiah: The Synchronistic Approach,” HUCA 65 (1994): 1–19. J. Greenfield, “Tirshata,” Encyclopaedia Biblica (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1982), 946. R. J. Saley, “The Date of Nehemiah Reconsidered,” in Biblical and Near Eastern Studies, ed. G. A. Tuttle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 151–65. M. Toher, Nicolaus of Damascus: The Life of Augustus and The Autobiography. Edited with Introduction, Translations and Historical Commentary (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). H. G. M. Williamson, Ezra and Nehemiah (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987). AARON DEMSKY

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Esdras, First Book of; Exile; Festivals and Holy Days; Historiography; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Nehemiah, Book of; Persian Period.

Nicolaus of Damascus Nicolaus of Damascus (c. 64–after 4 bce) was a philosopher, diplomat, biographer of Augustus, and author of a “universal history.” He received a first-class education (FGH 90 F132). At some point, he was the tutor of Antony and Cleopatra’s children (FGH 90 T2). Before 14 bce he met Herod the Great and became one of his closest associates. In several instances he represented Herod, in Rome and elsewhere. When Herod had a falling-out with Augustus over an unauthorized campaign against the Nabateans, Nicolaus brought about a reconciliation (FGH 90 F 136; Josephus, Ant. 16.271–356). After Herod’s death, he pleaded before Augustus that the Idumean’s son Archelaus should succeed his father (Josephus, J.W. 2.34–37; Ant. 17.240–248). Nicolaus spent the last years of his life in Rome (FGH 90 F 138). He was fairly close to Augustus, who named a particularly tasty type of date after him (FGH 90 T1; T10a). Long excerpts from his biography of Augustus are extant (FGH 90 F 125–130; Bellemore 1984; Parmentier and Barone 2011: 206–95). At Herod’s suggestion, Nicolaus wrote a Universal History in 144 books (FGH 90 T1,11), many fragments of which have been preserved in Josephus, as well as in other works, including

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Byzantine excerpts. A first edition may have been completed by 12 bce. Eventually Nicolaus provided a detailed account of the entire reign of Herod (FGH 90 F 131–139; Toher 2009: 71; Parmentier and Barone 2011: xxxiv–xxxv, 296–319). The scope of Nicolaus’s History is difficult to determine, but it was not structured chronologically. Most extant portions derive from books 1–7, although fragments from books 96 to 124 are found in Josephus and Athenaeus (FGH 90 F72–81). The fragments frequently deal with political intrigue and sexual misconduct, but this emphasis may reflect the interests and thematic arrangements of the later excerptors rather than the author’s own focus. Nicolaus’ works were influential, as indicated by the numerous authors who cited them. Josephus undoubtedly used them as his principal source for Herodian history and also for much of the Hasmonean period, although it is impossible to determine how closely he followed his source in Jewish War (up to 2.100) and in Jewish Antiquities 13–17. In at least two instances he criticizes Nicolaus for having been biased in favor of Herod (Ant. 14.8–9; 16.183–187). Elsewhere he reports speeches by Nicolaus, in defense of the Jews of Ionia (Ant. 16.31–57) and against Herod’s son Antipater (Ant. 17.107–126)

Bibliography J. Bellemore, Nicolaus of Damascus: Life of Augustus (Bristol: Focus Publishing/R. Pullins Company, 1984). E. Parmentier and F. P. Barone, eds. Nicolas de Damas, Histoires, Recueil de coutumes, Vie d’Auguste, Autobiographie, Greek text, French transl. and commentary (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2011). M. Toher, “Herod, Augustus, and Nicolaus of Damascus,” Herod and Augustus (2009), 65–81. M. Toher, Nicolaus of Damascus: The Life of Augustus and The Autobiography, ed. with Introduction, Translations and Historical Commentary (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). B. Z. Wacholder, Nicolaus of Damascus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1962). JOSEPH SIEVERS

Related entries: Damascus; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Hasmonean Dynasty; Herod the Great; Herodians; Historiography; Josephus, Writings of; Roman Emperors.

Noah Hebrew Bible.  In Genesis, Noah was known as a righteous (Gen 6:9; 7:1), sacrificing (8:20), covenant-making (Gen 9:8–17) flood-survivor, distinguished from the wicked by God in the judgment that blotted out violence and wickedness from the earth (6:5–13; 7:1). God directly informs Noah about the coming destruction and gives him instructions about building the ark and gathering his family, animals, and food (6:13–21). Thereafter in the Hebrew Bible Noah is notably absent, appearing only in Isaiah 54:9 (“days of Noah” and “waters of Noah”), Ezekiel 14:14 (in a list with Job and Daniel described as “righteous”), and the genealogy of 1 Chronicles 1. Noah the Flood-Survivor.  As the primordial flood-survivor, Noah was regarded as the progenitor of all humanity (not only of Israel) and, given his representative character, was a potentially problematic ancestor for some Second Temple Jews. Diverse characterizations of Noah are embodied within differently formed archetypes that, in turn, reflected a wide variety of ideologies

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espoused by Jewish writers and their communities (Peters 2008: 1–3; Dimant 1998: 123–50). Beyond those who were content to elaborate on and interpret the flood-survivor as “Noah,” some writers attempted to draw links with a similar figure familiar within other cultural narratives. For example, the 2nd-century bce Pseudo-Eupolemus (Eusebius, Preap. ev. 9.18.2) may equate a certain Belos, a giant who “escaped destruction” (i.e. the flood), with Noah. Later in the 1st century ce Philo identifies Noah with Deucalion, the Greek flood-survivor hero (Praem. 23). Josephus appeals to several earlier histories that mention the flood and the ark, namely those written by Berosus the Chaldean, Hieronymus the Egyptian, Mnaseas, and Nicolaus of Damascus, and cites the latter’s suggestion that the reports of the “one” in the ark might be identified as “the man” (Noah) about whom Moses wrote (Ant. 1.93–94) (Peters 2008: 1–4). Birth and Naming of Noah.  At Noah’s birth his paternity is questioned, but Enoch confirms Lamech as father and instructs Methuselah that the child be named Noah (1QapGen ii; 1 En. 106:1–107:3). The Book of Jubilees follows Genesis in its etymology of Noah’s name as “comfort” (‫נחם‬, nḥm) (Jub. 4:28; Gen 5:28–29). Noah (‫נח‬, nḥ) would be “a remnant from whom you will find rest” (1 En. 106.16–18; cf. 1 En. 10.3; Sir 44:17). Rest meant the cessation of violence (1 En. 107:1) and the ending of wickedness (LAB 1:20; cf. LXX Gen 5:29 “to rest” [διαναπαύω dianapauō]), an interpretation followed by Philo (QG 1.87; Alleg. Interp. 3.77; Det. 121). 4QTanḥumim incorporates Isaiah 54:4–10a—the “days of Noah … waters of Noah”— into other “words of comfort” (‫תנחומים‬, tnḥwmym), a play on Noah’s naming (4Q176 8.11–13) (Amihay and Machiela 2010: 64; Peters 2008: 43–44, 108–9). Noah’s Wisdom and Righteousness.  Noah was believed to have “sprouted for righteousness” and, upon his birth, to be “planted for righteousness” (1QapGen vi 1–2; cf. Philo, Alleg. Interp. 3.77). He was said to wear “wisdom like a robe” (1QapGen vi 4) and to have been wise even in his drinking (Philo, QG 2.68). In Philo, however, he remains inferior to Moses in wisdom (Unchangeable 109–110; Abr. 31–37; cf. the later Deut. Rab.11.3). From Noah, an eternal, righteous planting would come (1 En. 10:3; 1QapGen xiv 12–14). Noah’s archetypical righteousness is linked to Israel’s annual repentance (Jub. 5:1–19; cf. 4Q508 2.1–3 3), a trajectory that led to regarding Noah as an “heir to righteousness” (Heb 11:7) and as a preacher of repentance (2 Pet 2:5; Sib. Or. 1.147–198; Josephus, Ant 1:74; cf. Philo, QG 2.13–15; Sanh. 108a; Gen. Rab. 30.7) (Sharon and Tishel 2010: 153–56). Noah as Recipient and Transmitter of Divine Revelation. Noah receives divine revelation in diverse ways in the various traditions. He receives dream visions about the coming flood in the Genesis Apocryphon (1QapGen vi 11–26), and it is his drinking of wine that precedes them (1QapGen xii–xv; cf. Tg. Ps.-J. Gen 9:24). Jubilees ignores Noah’s drunkenness, Josephus describes Noah’s “indecent state” (Ant. 1.141), and Philo argues that Noah drank only moderately, as befitted a wise man (QG 2.68–69). Alternatively, the Most High himself appears to Noah to deliver the message (Sib. Or. 1.200–205), or the angel Uriel is instructed by the “Most High” to speak to “the son of Lamech” concerning his escape from the coming destruction of the earth by deluge (1 En. 10:1–3). Elsewhere, a double destruction by flood and fire is revealed (1QapGen vi 11–26; xiii 8— xv 23; Sib. Or. 1.120–280; 2.6–24; cf. 1 En. 65–69; Josephus, Ant. 1.71; 2 Pet 3:5–7; Life of Adam and Eve 49:3; b. Sanh. 108b); God would not curse the earth with a flood, but with famine, sword, 545

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fire, and pestilence (LAB. 3:9–10). In Jubilees, divine revelation to Noah is restricted in means, scope, and timing, while Moses remains the primary recipient of revelation (Peters 2008: 88–93). Noah bridges the pre- and post-flood generations; he is a reliable transmitter of received teaching, both oral and written. He is a prophet or speaks prophetically (Jub. 8:18–21; Philo, Heir 260). He teaches his grandchildren the “ordinances and commandments,” citing oral transmission from Enoch, Methuselah, and Lamech (Jub. 7:20–39). He records healing medicines for the diseases that demons bring, giving the book to Shem, and intercedes for his grandchildren and their progeny against demons (Jub. 10:1–14; cf. also 21:1–10). He possesses a book about the division of the earth (Jub. 8:11–12). A so-called “Book of Noah concerning the blood” transmitting priestly lore is mentioned (ALD 10:10), as is a “Book of the Words of Noah” (1QapGen v 29; cf. 5Q534 1 i 4–8; 1 En. 68.1), though their actual existence is disputed (Stone 2006: 17–18; Peters 2008: 121–24). Noah as Archetypal Priest.  Noah is accommodated to Torah tradition by being described as an ancestral priest, sharing the characteristics of a priestly line with Levi, Qahat, and Amram, such as the practice of endogamous marriage (ALD 10:10; 1QapGen vi 7–8; Tob 4:12–13; Jub. 4.33) (Peters 2008: 52–59). In later traditions, Melchizedek is substituted for Noah as priest (2 En. 71–72), and Noah could be later disqualified from priesthood when tradition has him bitten by a lion (Tanḥ. Noah 14) or castrated by Ham (b. Sanh. 70a). Calendar was foundational for the priestly timing of festivals; the flood chronology was adjusted by some authors so that Noah was on the ark one full solar year (4Q252–254a; Jub. 5:22–6:1; cf. Josephus, Ant. 1.81–82) (Lim 1992: 291). Expansions on blood prohibitions are found in the Noah traditions (Jub. 6:7–14; cf. Gen 9:4–7), and the patriarch makes atoning sacrifices for himself and his sons (Jub. 7:1–6; 1QapGen xii 13–17; cf. Lev 19:23–25) and offers a sacrifice to atone for the land (1QapGen x 12–17; Jub. 6:1–4). The notion of covenant links Noah more closely to Moses and encompasses the priestly responsibilities in Jubilees’ reordering and expansion of Genesis. His covenant is remembered in Day of Atonement prayers that also mention human inclination, confession, a distinction between the righteous and wicked, and God’s anticipated destruction of oppressors (Jub. 6:1–22; 4Q508 1.1–4.1) (Peters 2008: 80–85, 135–139). Noah could distinguish between whom to bless and whom to curse (Jub. 7:10; 4Q252 ii 5–7; 4Q254 1.1–4). He divides the land by lot to each of his sons and requires them to swear by oath to curse each one who would wrongly occupy another’s portion (Jub. 8:11–9:15; 1QapGen xvi–xvii; cf. Gen 9:26–10:32). Trajectories beyond Second Temple Literature.  Second Temple portrayals of Noah strengthened into polemical trajectories in rabbinic Judaism and early Christianity. Christians claimed Noah as a righteous proto-Christ (Origen, Hom. Gen. II.3; Justin Martyr, Dial.); an uncircumcised Noah might be saved without keeping the Law (Justin Martyr, Dial. 46; Irenaeus, Adv. Haer IV.16). In some rabbinic texts, Noah is righteous only in comparison to the wicked of his generation (e.g. Gen. Rab. 30.9) and is guilty not only for his own “uncovering” (cf. Gen 9:21) but even for having caused the exile (Gen. Rab. 36.4). A precursor to 4th century ce, Syriac Aphrahat—Noah’s “perfection” as a prototypical celibate monk (Demonstration 13:5–6)—may be found in Philo on celibacy on the ark (QG 2.49). In rabbinic sources, Noah is variously commended for bringing forth fruit in season (Gen. Rab. 26.1) or censured for neglecting the 546

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command to be fruitful (Num. Rab. 14.12) (Lewis 1968: 158–60; Peters 2008: 3–6; Amihay 2010: 193–214).

Bibliography A. Amihay, “Noah in Rabbinic Literature,” Noah and His Book(s) (2010), 193–214. J. P. Lewis, A Study of the Interpretation of Noah and the Flood in Jewish and Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1968). T. Lim, “The Chronology of a Flood Story in a Qumran Text (4Q252),” JJS 43 (1992): 288–98. D. M. Peters, Noah Traditions in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Conversations and Controversies of Antiquity, EJL 26 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008). N. Sharon and M. Tishel, “Distinctive Traditions about Noah and the Flood in Second Temple Literature,” Noah and His Book(s) (2010), 143–65. M. E. Stone, “The Book(s) Attributed to Noah,” DSD 13 (2006): 4–23. DOROTHY M. PETERS

Related entries: Evil; Genesis, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Philo of Alexandria; Priesthood; Righteousness and Justice.

Novels With greatly increased scholarly interest in ancient Greek and Roman novels, there has been growing attention to ancient Jewish novels as well—Esther and Daniel (in their Hebrew Bible versions and the variant versions in the Greek Bible), Tobit, Judith, and Joseph and Aseneth. Other Jewish texts are similar: Artapanus, 3 Maccabees, and the so-called Tobiad Romance and the Royal Family of Adiabene from Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities (12.154–236; 20.17–96; see Wills 1995; Schmeling 2003). The Jewish novels are shorter than the Greek and Roman, but as most of them are earlier, they reveal an experimentation with the developing medium of prose narrative fiction. Some of the techniques and interests in the Jewish novels are also found in the later Greek novels: an entertaining treatment typical of popular literature; an emphasis on female protagonists; the testing of the protagonists’ virtue; interest in interior states, psychology, and character formation. As in the Greek novels, eroticism is also present, though often re-channeled: Daniel saves Susanna from the lecherous elders, Esther (in the Greek version) swoons before the powerful Ahasuerus, and Judith sexually manipulates the smitten Holofernes in order to decapitate him. In Tobit, and later in Joseph and Aseneth, erotic desire results as new conjugal families are established. That the Jewish novels were originally understood as fictitious is indicated by the historical absurdities: there was no Jewish queen of Persia by the name of Esther (or any other name), Daniel serves under “Darius the Mede” (Darius was a famous Persian king), Judith opposed “Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Assyrians” (Nebuchadnezzar was a famous Babylonian king), Tobit contains many fairytale elements, and Joseph and Aseneth clearly invents entire episodes about Joseph in Egypt (Wills 1995). Yet when some of these texts were later canonized as scripture, they probably came to be read as historical. The Jewish novels are roughly the same size, and though sharing themes and technique, they differ from each other in structure. These differences arise from their separate origins. Daniel 1–6, Susanna, and Bel and the Dragon are short narratives about the courage and wisdom of Jewish heroes of the faith, set in the court of the foreign king (or in the case of Susanna, a local Jewish

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court; Wills 1990). They likely circulated separately, but were strung together in various collections, a novel by agglutination. Esther is also a court narrative, with intertwined accounts of Esther and Mordecai in the Persian court. It is similar to the eastern “harem intrigue” traditions found in Herodotus and Ctesias. Tobit begins as a court narrative, but veers toward a fanciful family story, with angels, demons, potions, spells, and a young couple living happily ever after. Joseph and Aseneth is an expansion of a reference in Genesis 41:45–52, where it is said that Joseph married an Egyptian noblewoman named Aseneth. The narrative, however, grows to become a mystical novel about the turning of the Egyptian woman Aseneth to the worship of God (Chesnutt 1995). The theme that carries across these novels is the Jewish protagonists’ courage and fidelity to God, especially as that relates to Jews living in a world ruled by other peoples. The essence of the Greek novels is often seen in themes like love (which draws the protagonists together against their will), fate and circumstances (which pull them apart against their will), and resolution (which unites them finally to form a nuclear family; Ruiz-Montero 2003). But the tone and technique are equally important: Greek and Roman novels play with a constant irony of revealing two levels at once (referred to as syllēpsis): historical settings and imaginative plot, virtue and vice, the dissolution and reconstruction of identity, and so on (Selden 1994). Jewish novels also engage in the syllēpsis of the mixing of two levels. They begin with historical settings and invented plots, and also explore the mixing of virtue and vice, the threat to identity and the reestablishment of identity and safety. Judith can be seen as a fine example of this syllēpsis: the history of the Assyrian period is blithely telescoped with the Babylonian and Hasmonean periods. Biblical stories are alluded to at the same time that unmistakable parallels to Greek literature can be found. Judith is the most pious of Jewish women while, at the same time, she outrageously flaunts her sexuality, violating every rule of feminine decorum. In her prayers she humbly calls upon God to help her, but in the narrative she is a powerful agent who does not seem to need help. In a typically “biblical” mode, the people confess their sins, though it is said that Israel’s sins were in the past (Craven 1983; Wills 1995). Similar examples of syllēpsis can be found in the other Jewish novels as well (Johnson 2004, 2005). The five Jewish novels thus provide ample evidence of a genre that functioned as entertainment, perhaps for elites, but they also may have been performed—read aloud to an audience—at banquets or festivals like Purim (as Esther). They would have played well with crowds, for they begin with historical settings and conjure outrageous developments and fantasies of Jewish righteousness, power, and revenge (Gruen 2002).

Bibliography T. Craven, Artistry and Faith in the Book of Judith (Chico: Scholars Press, 1983). S. R. Johnson, “Novelistic Elements in Esther: Persian or Hellenistic, Jewish or Greek?” CBQ 67 (2005): 571–89. B. Ruiz-Montero, “The Rise of the Greek Novel,” in The Novel in the Ancient World, ed. G. Schmeling rev. ed. (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 29–86. D. Selden, “Genre of Genre,” in The Search for the Ancient Novel, ed. J. Tatum (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1994), 39–64. LAWRENCE M. WILLS

Related entries: Court Tales; Daniel, Additions to; Daniel, Book of; Esther, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Judith, Book of; Tobit, Book of.

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Oaths and Vows Definition.  Oaths and vows are formally sworn declarations of statement or promise that invoke a divine agent to act as witness to veracity in the context of dispute (cf. Philo, Decal. 85–86). Often it invokes divine punishment of the one who swears if the declaration made is false. In conventional English usage, “oaths” are made by one person to another—whether to show allegiance or to underscore commitment to an agreement—while “vows” are made by a person to a deity. Scholarship frequently treats the request for divine punishment, whether explicitly made or assumed, as a self-directed use of a conditional curse or “imprecation.” Modern conceptual distinctions appear to obtain for these linguistic usages in ancient Jewish texts, wherein terms for “oath” and “curse” apply to both oaths and vows, but special terms apply to vows (cf. the discussion in Martens 1991: 11–43). The efficiency with which oaths dignified agreements by affirming a divine role and deterred their breach by self-imprecation explains the value of oaths as verbal guarantees and helps explain their ubiquitous use across social interactions. In the Second Temple period, evidence from both Judean and diasporan communities shows the use of oath-swearing to finalize agreements within virtually every kind of social relationship. This pattern matches that of all neighboring cultures, both Near Eastern and Mediterranean; such ubiquity of oath-swearing is much discussed in scholarship (cf., e.g., Berlinerblau 1996 and Fletcher 2003: 29–30). Another aspect of oath-swearing visible in evidence from Judean and neighboring cultures is anxiety about the deleterious effects of lightly sworn, excessively frequent, and broken oaths on both piety and justice (Philo, Decal. 85). Judeans consistently express anxiety about these risks in terms of using YHWH’s name lightly, in violation of the Decalogue’s prohibition (cf. Exod 20:7; Deut 5:11). Strategies for allaying such anxiety varied and were shaped by the wider Mediterranean context. Socrates was known to have named common objects in the place of gods when he swore oaths (Plato, Apol. 22a; Aristophanes, Nub. 627–629), a practice that was both respected and mocked by his contemporaries, and probably also contributed to charges against him of teaching impiety and introducing strange gods. Plato’s ideal solution for citizens of utopian Magnesia was to not swear at all, which would have avoided the misunderstanding that Socrates faced (Leg. 948b–c). Pythagorean philosophers forbade oaths for all members of the school (D.L. 8.22), as did Stoics for sages and for new students (Epictetus, Ench. 33.5; M. Aurelius, Medit. 3.5). Philo’s strategy resembles that of Socrates: “if one must swear … not by the highest name of all, but the earth, the sun, the stars, the heaven, the universal world” (Philo, Spec. 2.5). The Gospel of Matthew prohibits oaths in the strictest terms (Matt 5:33–37). More plausible strategies included generally striving to swear oaths as seldom and as carefully as possible (Sir 23:9; Philo, Decal. 93), an approach that some Judeans elaborated into a practical system of legal categories and rules that accounted for and matched licit occasions for swearing to appropriate oath types, identifying specific risks and transgressions attendant upon each combination (m. Šeb. 3:1–6:7). The oath-system of the Damascus Rule from the Dead Sea Scrolls is equally systematic, but applies the community’s unique strictures toward multiple goals. Forbidden are not only oaths by the divine name but also by any abbreviation or substitution for it, including the Torah of Moses because it contains every form of the divine name. As such, the proscription would be consistent with Josephus’ description of the Essenes as categorically forbidding oaths (J.W.

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2.135). The Damascus Rule, however, is more nuanced: only oaths “by the curses of the Covenant” (‫באלות הברית‬, bʾlwt hbryt) are permitted (CD A xv 1–5; cf. Gillihan 2012: 162–67). This narrow condition probably presented a barrier to participation in numerous transactions in the marketplace, political arena, courts, and cult. If so, the effect seems intended and consistent with other laws in the Damascus Rule, such as those requiring cases to be prosecuted by the group’s own protocol (CD A ix 2–8), as well as those that asserted juridical authority over capital and property cases (CD A ix 8–23a), defined qualifications for witnesses and judges (ix 23b–x 10), and defined the duties of the judges responsible for the “congregation of Israel” (xiv 12–16; see also 1QS v 1–12; cf. 1QHa xi 24–30). Taken together, the law on oaths and the laws immediately surrounding it, in addition to others with similar topics, give the impression that the Covenanters either wield full authority or are preparing to do so. The latter is consistent with the oath’s invocation of the “curses of the covenant,” a phrase that may be intended to remind the group that their age is “the end of days,” an era in which some of the blessings and curses written in the Book of Moses are occurring (4QMMT C 12–16; Gillihan 2012: 164). In this scenario, swearing oaths by the curses of the covenant was an act of obedience that simultaneously preserved members from punishment and pointed to the punishment from which they had been spared. Put another way, oaths by the curses of the covenant removed the Covenanters from a corrupt state of being and prepared them to govern the restored state that was on the way (Schiffman 1991). Narratives in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple literature provide instances of vows taken that have unwanted consequences. Among the more well-known examples of this are Jephthah’s vow, if he should defeat the Ammonites, to sacrifice to God that which first comes forth to him from his house (Judg 11:30–31), a story retold by Josephus (Ant. 2.257–264). A different instance is found in the Book of Watchers of 1 Enoch 6; here, the angels take a binding oath when they decide to mate with the human women; therefore, they cannot receive mercy in the subsequent narrative, even when requesting Enoch to petition on their behalf (1 En. 12–16). The goals of preserving piety and justice and retaining divine favor that motivated efforts to control oaths shows awareness of the divine habit of declining to prosecute profanations of the divine reputation. Infrequent use of oaths preserved traditional piety and fear of divine reprisal, its invaluable contribution to legal and economic order, by limiting opportunity to observe divine indifference to perjury. Despite persistent and ubiquitous anxieties about oaths, efforts to suppress or eliminate oaths from public and private practice are most remarkable for their ineffectiveness.

Bibliography J. Berlinerblau, The Vow and the ‘Popular Religious Groups’ of Ancient Israel: A Philological and Sociological Inquiry, JSOTSup 210 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996). J. Fletcher, “Woman and Oaths in Euripides,” Theatre Journal 55 (2003): 29–44. J.-A. Martens, “A Second Best Voyage: Judaism and Jesus on Oaths and Vows” (PhD diss., MacMaster University, 1991). L. H. Schiffman, “The Law of Vows and Oaths (Num. 30, 3-15) in the Zadokite Fragments and the Temple Scroll,” RevQ 15 (1991): 199–214. YONDER MOYNIHAN GILLIHAN

Related entries: Damascus Document (D); Ethics; Philo of Alexandria.

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Oenomaus of Gadara

Oenomaus of Gadara Oenomaus of Gadara (flor. ca. 120 ce) was a Cynic philosopher and religious critic often identified with the Talmudic figure “Abnomos the Gadaran.” His individualistic philosophy was critical not only of previous Greek tradition (Julianus Imperator, Orationes 7.209b), but also of cult practice. In his work, Detection of Charlatans (Γοήτων Φώρα, Goētōn Phōra), he accused the priests of Clarian Apollo of chicanery, even denying the principles of divine providence and concern of the gods for humankind (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 33.15–17). His 2nd-century date, Gadarene origin, and koine pronunciation of Οἰνόμαος (Oinomaos) have lead scholars to identify him with the thinker known in midrashic anecdotes as Abnomos (sometimes: Abnimos, Nimos) the Gadaran (mss. ‫הגרדי‬, hgrdy). Supposedly a conversant of R. Meir Baal haNes from neighboring Tiberias (Ruth R. 2:13), Abnomos is described as one of the leading “philosophers (‫פילוסופין‬, pylôsôpyn) of the gentile world” and comparable to Balaam (Gen. R. 65:20; Lam. R. pref. 2) in his attempts to dissuade enemies from harming the Jews (PRK xv.5, Mandelbaum; Lam. R.(a) xli). The tradition perhaps recalls “the three philosophers” who disputed Hadrian’s divinity at the time of the second Revolt (Tanḥuma Gen. (Warsaw) vii). Abnomos’ remarks do presuppose a Cynic outlook, suggesting, for instance, indifference to his father’s home and state (Ruth R. ii. 13) as well as the belief that security lies in education rather than in force (PRK xv.5). Responses attributed to him are also practical rather than metaphysical: a builder’s material explanation for the Creation (Ex. R. xiii. 1); that peace is the basis of the world (ARN (B) xxiv.7–9); that the (moral?) source of wool determines its coloring (b Ḥag. 15b). Nonetheless, although the Rabbis sometimes listed “the signs” of the cynic (‫קינוקוס‬, qynôqôs), these were merely examples in their own discussions (b. Giṭṭin 38a; y. Terumoth 2a) without a deeper understanding of his philosophy.

Bibliography M. Luz, “Cynics of the Decapolis and Eretz Israel in the Hellenistic Period,” in Jews and Gentiles in the Holy Land in the Days of the Second Temple, the Mishnah and the Talmud, ed. M. Mor, A. Oppenheimer, J. Pastor, and D. R. Schwartz (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi Press, 2003), 97–107. MENAHEM LUZ

Related entries: Greek Philosophy; Mishnah; Revolt, Second Jewish; Talmud, Babylonian; Talmud, Jerusalem; Sages.

Oniads The Oniads were the high priestly family of Jerusalem during the Hellenistic period (being descendants of Joshua son of Jozadak) until they were replaced by Antiochus IV Epiphanes. Consequently, one of the later Oniads fled to Egypt and established a temple there. Onias I and Simon I.  The first Oniad, Onias I, was the son of Jaddus, the high priest who witnessed the conquest of Judea by Alexander the Great. Nothing definite is known of the earlier Oniads. In Josephus, Simon I, the son of Onias, is affixed with the sobriquet “the just,” a title that is unexplained (Ant. 12.43). A recent suggestion attempts to give content to Simon’s epithet on the basis of Ben Sira 50:1–4 by claiming that Simon restored Jerusalem and the Jerusalem Temple after its conquest by Ptolemy son of Lagos (VanderKam 2004: 150–51). However, Sirach 551

Oniads

50 more likely refers to Simon II, the son of Onias II, and there would have been no opportunity for Simon I to restore Jerusalem during the wars among Alexander’s heirs. Onias II.  Upon his death, Simon I was replaced by his son, Onias II, who, however, could not function as high priest until he was of age (Ant. 12.43–44, 157). An episode involving Onias II forms part of Josephus’ perusal of the Tobiad saga, a work eulogizing Joseph son of Tobiah and his son Hyrcanus. The author of Josephus’ source portrayed father and son as enjoying the trust of the Ptolemies. Josephus revises his source, however: Onias becomes an avaricious ruler whose refusal to pay a small tribute of 20 talents to Ptolemy III Euergetes (246–221 bce) paved the way for his nephew, Joseph son of Tobiah, to gain influence by organizing payment, ingratiating himself to the Ptolemaic ruler, and even securing Onias’ agreement to become leader (προστάτης, prostatēs) of the Jews. At the same time, Onias’ fiscal non-compliance toward the Ptolemies does not support the view that he was aligning himself politically with the Seleucid kingdom. Simon II.  Simon II, Onias II’s son, appears in the story of Ptolemy IV Philopator’s visit to Jerusalem. The king tried to enter the sanctuary, but Simon’s prayer prompted the Almighty to render Ptolemy unconscious (3 Macc 1:9–2:24). Though the story is of little historical value, Simon may have already been in office when Ptolemy visited Palestine in 217 bce at the end of the Fourth Syrian War. In the following conflict, the Fifth Syrian War (201–198 bce), Judea was conquered by Antiochus III the Great. Several sources report that the Jews supported Antiochus’ cause. In return, the king issued a decree (πρόσταγμα, prostagma) praising the Jews for their military aid and public support and exempting some elements of the Jerusalem population—the gerousia, the priests and other Temple personnel—from the poll-tax and from other payments. The king also pledged to supply all commodities needed for the Temple’s working as well as affirmed that Jews should maintain their ancestral laws and that their constitution should rest upon them. The king also took steps to rebuild the Temple and the city, damaged in the recent war (Ant. 12.138–144; cf. Bickerman 2007). All this highlights the priesthood’s importance in Antiochus’ Jerusalem. Since the Jews were known as a nation of priests, it seems that Antiochus sought not only to uphold but also to strengthen their standing, which also would have accrued to the high priest. An activity like the one undertaken by Antiochus III toward the restoration of Jerusalem and its Temple is ascribed to Simon son of Onias the high priest. Simon is much admired by Ben Sira (Sir 50:1–21), his (near) contemporary, who credits him with the building activity actually ordered by Antiochus III. Onias III.  Seleucus IV Philopator retained Antiochus’ philanthropic attitude toward the Jews during the first nine years of his reign (187–175 bce). However, in 178 bce, Seleucus initiated a new policy, preserved in three copies with accompanying letters, that would affect the Jews. The most fully preserved form (from Maresha) includes a letter from Seleucus to Heliodorus, his chief minister (Cotton and Wörrle 2007; Gera 2009). In it, Seleucus stated that since his subjects’ safety depends on the gods’ favor, sanctuaries throughout the kingdom were to be well maintained. The king noted, however, that one satrapy, Coele-Syria and Phoenicia, lacked someone who would oversee matters related to the temples. Seleucus then mentioned a certain Olympiodorus, whose virtues and excellent services to the king he describes at some length. Though the text breaks off here, the king praises Olympiodorus in order to explain why he should fill the vacancy. Since parts of the Maresha stele are missing, Olympiodorus’ exact title is unknown. However, his career is similar to that of a certain Nicanor, whom the king’s father, Antiochus III, had 552

Oniads

appointed as high priest of Asia Minor in 209 bce. As Seleucus’ insistence in the inscription that Olympiodorus be included in future contracts compares to orders relating to appointments of priests and priestesses, Olympiodorus was probably appointed high priest of Coele-Syria and Phoenicia. The need to settle payments to Rome and the high priests’ jurisdiction over temple finances suggest that Olympiodorus’ appointment was an attempt by Seleucus to gain access to money in the satrapy’s various temples, including the Jerusalem Temple. Olympiodorus would thus have been on a collision course with the high priest in Jerusalem. Second Maccabees reports of such a conflict involving a representative of the Seleucid government and the high priest Onias III, Simon II’s son. Although Seleucus IV, like his father, continued to make provision for animal sacrifices, a Temple overseer informed his administration of a surplus of money, unrelated to the sacrifices, that should fall under the king’s authority. Seleucus thus sent his chief minister, Heliodorus, to impound the money against the wishes of Onias III, who argued it consisted of deposits by needy persons and by Hyrcanus the Tobiad. When Heliodorus sought to take the funds by force, he was attacked by a mounted horseman and two lads, God’s protective arm over the Temple, and rendered unconscious. Thanks to Onias’ prayer for Heliodorus, the latter miraculously regained consciousness. The story ends with Heliodorus recognizing the power of the Almighty and explaining to Seleucus upon his return that the Temple was protected by God (2 Macc 3:1–40). This account of a divine rescue of the Temple treasury is not entirely historical. The author of 2 Maccabees obviously replaced Olympiodorus with the more widely known Heliodorus, and he found it difficult to admit that the Jewish high priest was under the authority of a pagan priest. Though the fabricated story does not reveal facts concerning the conflict between Olympiodorus and Onias, its miraculous resolution suggests that there were no clear victors or losers and that a compromise of sorts must have been reached. Second Maccabees relates a sequel to the Heliodorus episode. Because Onias III was accused for being responsible for Heliodorus’ injuries, he joined the royal court to ensure his own protection. When Seleucus died soon thereafter, Onias’ brother, Jason, procured the high priesthood by bribing the new king, Antiochus IV Epiphanes, with large sums of money and a promise to turn Jerusalem into a Hellenistic polis. However, three years later the king deposed Jason, replacing him with the Temple overseer’s brother, Menelaus, so that Jason had to find refuge in the Transjordan. Menelaus proceeded to rob the Temple of some golden vessels, passing them on to Antiochus’ minister, Andronicus. When Onias protested, Andronicus killed him at Menelaus’ behest (2 Macc 4:1–34). Although the account of 2 Maccabees about Heliodorus’ mission to the Temple strains not to reduce Onias’ loyalty to the Seleucid (2 Macc 3:10–11), the situation appears to have been otherwise. Onias’ statement that the Temple treasury included monies from Hyrcanus the Tobiad (2 Macc 3:10–11) who himself was a supporter of the Seleucids, would have been meant to deter Heliodorus from divesting the Temple treasury. Onias would not have been pleased with the Seleucid appointment of Olympiodorus as high priest and, with it, the power to meddle with the affairs of the sanctuaries, yet he had no alternative but to accommodate the ruling power. Onias IV.  Josephus’ version of this period’s events is quite different from the one provided above. He knows nothing of an attempt to rob the Jerusalem Temple during the time of Seleucus IV. He merely states that Onias III died and that this happened around the time of Seleucus IV’s death. In this version, Onias was legally replaced by Jason because the high priest’s son was just a child; just as Onias II’s tender age prevented him from becoming a high priest immediately 553

Oniads

after his father’s death, so too the future Onias IV had to wait while his uncle officiated as high priest. Josephus, however, complicates the story: he claims that Menelaus was also a brother of Onias III and Jason, and that he too was called Onias before adopting his Greek name (a strange detail without parallel among Jews). As in 2 Maccabees, Jason is replaced by Menelaus as high priest. Jason then rebels against Menelaus, receiving the support of most of the people while the Tobiads side with Menelaus. Menelaus and his supporters then inform the king of their desire to follow the royal laws and adopt a Greek constitution. Thus in Josephus it is Menelaus and his followers, not Jason, who are the hellenizing party and it is they who introduce the gymnasium into Jerusalem. Jason’s rebellion is quashed by the king, a report also supported by 2 Maccabees (Ant. 12.237–241, 246–247; 2 Macc 5:5–21; 1 Macc 1:20–24). Josephus recounts in the Jewish War, his earliest book, that one of the chief priests, Onias, expelled the Tobiads from the city. The latter asked for help from Antiochus, who attacked Jerusalem and killed many of Ptolemy’s supporters (J.W. 1.31–33). In this passage, Onias is not termed “high priest” but rather “one of the high priests.” Furthermore, at the end of the passage he is identified as the Onias who fled to Egypt and built a temple there in the Heliopolite nome. Therefore, the Onias in the Jewish War is Onias IV, the intended high priest of Jerusalem who never attained this post. The activity Josephus assigns to Onias IV in Jerusalem is identical to that related to Onias’ uncle and custodian, Jason. Onias IV’s involvement in the affairs of Jerusalem in the time of Antiochus IV, such as it was, was marginal and consisted only of assisting his uncle, Jason. In the wake of his failed rebellion, Jason fled from Jerusalem, reaching Egypt later; he is last mentioned as having sailed to Sparta (2 Macc 5:7–10). Jason’s ward, Onias IV, also found refuge in Egypt (J.W. 1.31–33; 7.421–425). At any rate, Jason’s flight (2 Macc 5:7) and that of his nephew (J.W. 7.423–425) are linked to Antiochus IV’s attack on Jerusalem during a lull in the Sixth Syrian War. This would date their emigration from Palestine to ca. 169/168 bce. Support for this dating would be gained if the correct reading of a personal name found in a papyrus of 164 bce is indeed Oni[as] (CPJ I, 132), and if that person, a Ptolemaic official, is in fact identical with Onias IV. In Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities, however, Onias IV’s flight to Egypt is linked to the execution of his supposed uncle, Onias-Menelaus, in 163 bce and the appointment of Alcimus-Jacimus in his place, despite the fact that the latter was not of high priestly descent (Ant. 12.383–388; 20.235–236). However, Menelaus’ suspicious inclusion into the Oniad family would seem to have served the purpose of postdating Onias IV’s flight to Egypt. Thus, the heir apparent to the high priesthood could be depicted as sustaining the hope of ultimately fulfilling the role of his father by remaining loyal to his two uncles, in the same way that Onias II succeeded to the office of his father, after the father’s place was filled by one and then another older relative. Obviously, the Onias-Menelaus tradition was fabricated in order to repel accusations that Onias IV waived his right to the high priesthood by immigrating to Egypt without putting up a prolonged fight. At any rate, both versions in Jewish War and Jewish Antiquities link Onias’ immigration to Egypt with the temple that he later founded there (cf. Ant. 13.62–73). Onias IV’s claim to fame was the temple he established in the Heliopolite nome (Gruen 1997). It seems he also peopled the area around the sanctuary with Jewish military settlers, as deduced from the military resistance later shown by the Jews from the land of Onias to troops trying to enter Egypt to assist Julius Caesar (J.W. 1.190; Ant. 14.131–132). Thus Onias was not only a priest, but also a military man. He is probably the Onias whom Josephus mentions as having served as military commander for Ptolemy VI Philometor and his wife (Ag. Ap. 2.49). 554

Oniads

Ananias and Helkias. Onias IV had two sons, Ananias and Helkias, who were military commanders for Queen Cleopatra III in a war against her son, Ptolemy IX Lathyrus. Josephus stresses Cleopatra’s dependence on them as they rallied the Oniad Jews in support of the queen. The war spilled over to Coele-Syria and Judea, and Josephus claims that Helkias and Ananias the Jews were in command of Cleopatra’s entire army. Helkias died while on a campaign in Coele-Syria. Ananias, on hearing that Cleopatra was being advised to occupy Judea to prevent Alexander Jannaeus from enjoying too much property, persuaded the queen not to treat an ally this way. He also warned her that such an attitude toward Jannaeus would make the Jews, Ananias included, her enemies. Cleopatra thus made a treaty with the Hasmonean king (Ant. 13.285– 287; 348–355), with Ananias waiving any claim he might have had for the high priesthood of Jerusalem once held by his grandfather, Onias III. Finally, there is an inscription from Egypt honoring a strategos, a son of a certain Helkias (CPJ III, 1450). This strategos is quite probably a son of the Oniad Helkias, and therefore the last known Oniad. Conclusion.  Members of the Oniad dynasty served as high priests of the Jerusalem Temple for approximately a century and a half. However, due to a lack of sources and the fanciful nature of available material, little is known about their activities and views until early 2nd century bce (VanderKam 2004: 112–239). It seems, however, that the Oniads remained loyal to the kingdom in power, the Ptolemies, throughout the 3rd century. This changed with the crisis suffered by the Ptolemaic kingdom toward the end of that century, both internally and vis-à-vis foreign powers. Perhaps influenced by the renegade governor, Ptolemy son of Thraseas, the Jews—among them probably the high priest Simon II—came out in support of Antiochus III in the course of the Fifth Syrian War. The Tobiad saga places Simon alongside the people and the Tobiads in an armed struggle against Hyrcanus son of Joseph (Ant. 12.228–229), who is later depicted as pro-Ptolemaic. Despite the saga’s unreliability (Gera 1998: 36–58), it does seem to reflect the real shift of public opinion in Judea toward the Seleucids. Later, Seleucus IV deviated from the course adopted by his father and sought to tighten control over the sanctuaries of Coele-Syria and Phoenicia. This affected the Jerusalem Temple as well and led to a conflict between the Seleucid high priest and Onias III. After a tense period, the excitement subsided somewhat. Yet the Jewish high priest, though unhappy with Seleucus’ new policy, had no choice but to maintain a working relationship with the one responsible for the satrapy’s sanctuaries. The same may be said of Onias III’s heir, his brother Jason. Only when Jason was removed from the high priestly office did he become an enemy of the Seleucid court. Later, when the Sixth Syrian War broke out in 170/169 bce, Jason turned to the Ptolemaic kingdom for support, being seconded by his nephew. It may be assumed that Jason, together with Onias IV, fled to Egypt after Jason’s failed attempt to take control of Jerusalem. From then on, the available information on Onias IV and his descendants is linked to Egypt and the Heliopolite nome. Presumably they officiated as priests in the Jewish temple, but they also held positions in the administration of the nome while serving as officers in the Ptolemaic army.

Bibliography E. J. Bickerman, “The Seleucid Charter for Jerusalem,” in Studies in Jewish and Christian History, ed. A. Tropper, new ed., AJEC 68/1 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 315–56. D. Gera, Judaea and Mediterranean Politics, 219 to 161 B.C.E., BSJS 8 (Leiden: Brill, 1998). DOV GERA 555

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Related entries: Heliopolis; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Maccabees, Third Book of; Persecution, Religious; Priesthood; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Oral Performance and Text Many Second Temple Jewish texts were read or performed orally before an audience in either worship or instructional settings. This manner of presentation could potentially produce a lively experience of the text; the engaged sense of hearing when combined with the social power of the communal setting could intensify the text’s effect on the audience. The reader also might have achieved a heightened experience of the text, depending on to what degree the reader assumed the persona of the narrator or speaker in the text. The spoken voice also might have contributed to the sense of the text as the “living” instruction of a famous character from the past—perhaps a patriarchal figure, wisdom teacher, or visionary. Used this way in a group, a text could, in part, socially construct the reader and those listening, as well as the relationships between them, the larger community, and the world. This process could have been aided by textual features that could effectively place reader and audience in the text’s world. Some texts may have had this in mind during their construction—perhaps even playing a central role in that process. For other texts, such features may have been unintentional, though nevertheless effective. Finally, because religious language and social models are metaphorical and pliable, texts could be easily assumed into new religious communities and applied to settings very different from the original context. There seems to be a close relationship between interpretation, the formation of social roles, and the performance of a text (Sanders 2006). The placement of ritual activities and language into texts provides one way to locate socially the community within the narrative and even place the audience within the cosmic order, assigning the participants their roles and circumscribing proper and improper action. Prayers, prayer reports, testament language, doxologies, blessings, woes and curses, among other forms, sometimes direct the audience to its place within the narrative world, and this technique occurs across literary genres. Thus, the intercessory petitions of the archangels in 1 Enoch 9:4–11 come in response to cries resulting from human suffering, which the audience members could easily embrace as their own or of those with whom they identify. In this way the audience members find themselves indirect participants in the ritual action in heaven. Further, 1 Enoch’s opening verses (1:1–9), through the use of testament language and the rhetoric of a teacher, construct the audience as the recipients and trustees of special knowledge (Werline 2015). The pronouncements of woes against the wicked and salvation oracles for the righteous in the Epistle of Enoch (1 En. 92–105) again direct the audience to see the ritual actions as constructed for them, and, as a result, they socially define the audience and its enemies. At the same time, the pronouncements educate the audience about how to live in the world, as the “living voice” of the visionary reaches them through the voice of the reader. The imprecatory features in Psalms of Solomon 4 and 12 function in a way similar to the woes and curses in 1 Enoch. In Joseph and Aseneth, the “man’s” response to Aseneth’s prayer establishes her as the “City of Refuge,” for in her “many nations will take refuge with the Lord God, the Most High” (Jos. Asen. 15:7); this is surely how the audience has also found refuge. Further, the audience hears from the messenger that all who engage in the act of repentance have a heavenly intermediary called Repentance, described as a daughter of

556

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the Most High (15:7–8). In this way, the audience finds itself both in the story as well as within Judaism, its history, and the cosmic order. Revelatory texts that contain periodizations of history leading to the end of time famously place the audience within the timeline, and generally at its climax. Thus, both the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 En. 93:1–10, 91:11–17) and the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 85–90) depict a turbulent time near the end when a righteous group emerges (see 1 En. 93:10, 91:11; and 90:6–19). A similar phenomenon occurs in Jubilees, which predicts the arrival of a repentant, faithful generation that observes “new moons, sabbaths, festivals, jubilees, and ordinances,” obviously in accordance with the prescriptions in the book (Jub. 1:12–25; 23:16–32). The Sibylline Oracles book 5 contains explanations about the ages of humanity which structure the way in which adherents of the texts understood their place within society, history, and the cosmic plan. The power of the Oracles continued into the Middle Ages, as groups of Christian millenarians reapplied the text to new settings. Texts might also employ language that draws on specialized cultural knowledge and experiences. Sirach, e.g., clearly contains instructions for young male children of the Jerusalem elite. However, when read in a different group setting, the audience members could hear the text as instruction directed at them, and likely in their imagination they assumed the role of students. For those trained in a scribal school, the text could evoke memories and former, familiar dispositions, making them receptive to receiving the text and its assumptions about the world. This process was almost certainly at work in the Psalms of Solomon. This collection of psalms, written by scribes during the early decades of Roman domination in Judea, frequently refers to the struggles of that age as part of God’s “discipline” (παιδεία, paideia), which adherents also believed they might experience on a personal level as they sought to practice a pious life (Werline 2012). Psalms of Solomon 8:29 even calls God “the one who disciplines,” or perhaps better, “teacher” or “instructor” (παιδευτής, paideutēs). Examination of the Thanksgiving Hymns (Hodayot) has suggested that the reader might approach the hymns as an experiential script (Harkins 2012). Thus, the reader possibly embodied the emotions expressed in the text, which would have led the reader to experience the terror of his sin and potential judgment (e.g. 1QHa xii 34–36), as well as the exuberance of the ascent to divine realms (1QHa xi 20–24). Many of the textual emotional prompts and language prove to be reapplications of authoritative traditions in the Hebrew Bible.

Bibliography S. L. Sanders, “Performative Exegesis,” in Paradise Now: Essays on Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism, ed. A. D. DeConick, SBLSym 11 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006), 57–79. R. A. Werline, “The Experience of God’s Paideia in the Psalms of Solomon,” in Experientia, Volume 2: Linking Text and Experience, ed. C. Shantz and R. A. Werline, EJL 35 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012), 17–44. R. A. Werline, “Ritual, Order and the Construction of an Audience in 1 Enoch 1–36,” DSD 22 (2015): 325–41. RODNEY A. WERLINE

Related entries: Angels; Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Education; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; Jubilees, Book of; Mediator Figures; Penitential Prayer; Testaments.

557

Ossuaries

Ossuaries Between the end of the 1st century bce and 70 ce, and also sporadically afterward until the Bar Kokhba period, many wealthy and educated people in Jerusalem and Jericho, but sometimes also those from humbler classes, preferred to be buried in so-called ossuaries. The deceased would first be placed in one of the loculi (Heb. ‫כוחים‬, kwḥym, a long niche cut into the wall for an individual burial place) of a rock-hewn cave, his or her primary burial place, to decompose. Rock-cut tombs surround Jerusalem on the north, east, and south. The tombs, mostly constructed as family burial places with several loculi, were sealed with heavy square or round stones. After the body had disintegrated, the bones were gathered and stored in an ossuary (Kloner and Zissu 2007). In Jewish literature, ossuaries are referred to as ‫( גלוסקמא‬glwsqmʾ) or ‫( גלוסקום‬glwsqwm) from γλωσσόκομον (glōssokomon), meaning “casket,” “coffin” (Sokoloff 1992: 129; Montanari 2015: 435). The practice of the “gathering of bones,” the ossilegium, is called ‫( ליקוט עצמות‬lyqwṭ ʿṣmwt). The ossuaries themselves often bear the term ‫( חלתא‬ḥltʾ) or ‫( חלת‬ḥlt), “container,” sometimes also ‫( קיברא‬qybrʾ) or ‫( קבר‬qbr), “grave,” and rarely ‫( קוקא‬qwqʾ), “amphora,” or ὀστοφάγος (ostophagos), “bone-eater” (Rahmani 1994: 3). Most of the ossuaries were made from soft limestone taken from quarries around Jerusalem and finished in the city’s workshops by skilled stonemasons. Ossuaries usually appear in rectangular shape, similar to wooden household chests that were in use in the Mediterranean in late antiquity. The dimensions of ossuaries are roughly determined by the dimensions of the largest contained bones. Some ossuaries were made to contain bones of more than one corpse and were constructed accordingly. What makes these ossuaries particularly fascinating are ornamental incisions that were frequently applied, and inscriptions that can be detected on approximately one fourth of the more than 2,000 ossuaries that have been unearthed so far. These inscriptions, incised with a sharp tool on one or more sides of the ossuary, usually do not reveal more information than the name(s) of the deceased and his or her family identification. However, some ossuary inscriptions are more detailed and allow the identification of the deceased. The inscribed ossuaries feature the languages common during that era. Some seem to have been made by trained scribes, but oftentimes, rough and coarse letters and scribal slips suggest that the one who made them did not belong to the formally trained scribal elite. They were written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. Not infrequently, the same inscription would be repeated in different languages and/or scripts on the same ossuary. The names of the deceased give a fair impression of the most common names during that time, such as Simon, Joseph, Judas, Lazarus, John, Jesus, and Matthew. Common feminine names include Salome, Maria, and Martha. Some names were extended by nicknames. Below, three ossuaries are presented that testify to the items’ widespread use and exemplify the significance of their inscriptions. Figure 4.84 (CJO 871; CIIP 534) shows the ossuary of Yehoḥana, the granddaughter of the high priest, with an inscription inside one of the incised line frames. The name of the deceased is given in the formal Jewish script of the Second Temple period (Figure 4.85). The first line reads ‫( יהוחנה‬yhwḥnh), “Yehoḥana,” and was probably made by a hand differing from lines 2–3. The remaining lines add the identity of Yehoḥana: She is the daughter of ‫( יהוחנן‬yhwḥnn), “Yehoḥanan,” who in turn is the son of ‫( תפלוס‬tplws), “Theophilus” the ‫( הכהן הגדל‬hkwn hgdl), “high priest.” The syntax of this short inscription is intriguing and reflects a culture that could easily move between various languages. ‫( יהוחנה‬yhwḥnh) and ‫( יהוחנן‬yhwḥnn) are both Hebrew names, common already in the First Temple period. The patronyms are introduced with Aramaic nouns (‫[ ברת‬brt] 558

Ossuaries

and ‫[ בר‬br], “daughter” and “son”), the vernacular language of the era. ‫( תפלוס‬tplws), the name of Yehoḥana’s grandfather, is a Greek name (θεόφιλος, theophilos) transcribed into Aramaic. Finally, the term ‫( הכהן הגדל‬hkwn hgdl), “high priest,” is not Aramaic, but Hebrew, betraying both in meaning and grammatical form Theophilos’ attachment to the Hebrew tradition of the Temple and its services. Theophilos was high priest between 37 and 41 ce and is known from the writings of Josephus (Ant. 18.123–124, 19.297). Figure 4.86 (CIIP 324) shows the ossuary of Simon (back side), with a drawing of its inscription in Figure 4.87. The first line reads ϹΙΜWΝΑΛΕ “Simon Ale….” The name “Simon”

Figure 4.84  Ossuary of Yehoḥana.

Figure 4.85  Ossuray of Yehoḥana, inscription.

559

Ossuaries

and the first three letters of “Alexander” are in the wrong order, without word divider. Realizing his error, the engraver started over on the second line, carving ΑΛΕΧΑΝΔΡΟϹ “Alexander” and then, on the third line, ϹΙΜWΝΟϹ “(son) of Simon.” The front side (not detailed here) has ΑΛΕΧΑΝΔΡΟϹ ϹΙΜWΝ. The lid (Figure 4.88) has “of Alexander” (ΑΛΕΧΑΝΔΡΟΥ), but adds in Hebrew: ‫( אלכסנדרוס קרנית‬ʾlksndrws qrnyt), which probably means “Alexander the Cyrenean” (Figure 4.89). All this points to a well-known figure from the early Christian movement (Matt 27:32) and seems to identify the deceased as the son of Simon of Cyrene. Figure 4.90 (CJO; CIIP 50) shows the ossuary of ‫( יהוחנן בן הגקול‬yhwḥnn bn hgqwl) “Yehoḥanan, son of Hagqol,” or, by different reading, son of ‫( חזקיל‬ḥzqyl) “Ḥezqil.” The first

Figure 4.86  Ossuary of Simon, back side.

Figure 4.87  Ossuary of Simon, back side, drawing of inscription.

Figure 4.88  Ossuary of Simon, front side with lid. 560

Ossuaries

Figure 4.89  Ossuary of Simon, lid inscription.

Figure 4.90  Ossuary of Yehoḥanan.

line of the inscription, barely visible on the photo, had only ‫( יהוחנן‬yhwḥnn) “Yehoḥanan,” while the two lines cited above were incised later by a different hand. The ossuary still contained the nail-driven bone of Yehoḥanan. The nail was preserved because the end of it bent and curled when it was driven into the wood. The bent nail could not be pulled out, so that the executioners had to amputate the foot including its nail (Magness 2005: 144–45).

Bibliography H. M Cotton, W. Eck, B. Isaac, A. Kushnir-Stein, H. Misgav, J. Price, and A. Yardeni, Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palaestinae: A Multi-lingual Corpus of the Inscriptions from Alexander to Muhammad. Vol. I: Jerusalem. Part 1: 1–704 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010). J. Magness, “Ossuaries and the Burials of Jesus and James,” JBL 124 (2005): 121–54. F. Montanari, The Brill Dictionary of Ancient Greek (Brill: Leiden, 2015). L. Y. Rahmani, A Catalogue of Jewish Ossuaries (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 1994). M. Sokoloff, A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic, 2nd ed. (Ramat-Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 1992). MARTIN HEIDE

Related entries: Burial Practices; Death and Afterlife; Josephus, Writings of; Literacy and Reading; Names and Naming; Purification and Purity; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Writing. 561

Ostia

Ostia Located at the mouth of the Tiber River, Ostia grew from being a defensive outpost in the 4th century bce into a major port city of Rome during the early Imperial period, with expansions taking place during the reigns of Claudius and Trajan. Its population reached an estimated high of 60,000 during the 1st and 2nd centuries ce, but began to diminish in the 3rd century because of the silting of the harbor. This led to the city’s abandonment in the 9th century, thus preserving extensive archaeological remains from the Early Roman through Byzantine periods. In 1961, Squarciapino began to excavate the remains of a synagogue (ASSB no. 179; Squarciapino 1963: 194–203, 1965: 299–315) exposed by the construction of a nearby highway. Over the course of two seasons, she identified three phases of the synagogue, the earliest of which she dated to the second half of the 1st century ce (Figures 4.91 and 4.92). At that stage, the complex contained a main hall measuring 15 × 12 m with a row of benches along three of the walls, including a curved apse that may have also incorporated at its center a raised bema similar to one preserved in a later phase. Four monumental columns, 4.65–4.75 m high, framed a propyleum at the rear of the hall and stood adjacent to an entry vestibule. The main door (3.8 m wide) was to the southeast, on-axis with the center of the main hall and propyleum. Just

Figure 4.91  Reconstruction of phase I (1st–2nd cent. ce) of the Ostia synagogue.

562

Ostia

outside the door rested a well with an attached basin, presumably used for ritual washings prior to entry. A sizeable triclinium or dining hall was discovered to the southwest of the vestibule and perpendicular to the central axis of the main hall, with three raised couches continuously hugging the walls of that area and extending partially into the vestibule. At a necropolis just south of Ostia, an inscription in Latin (ASSB no. 177; Squarciapino 1970: 183–91) dating from the 1st to the 2nd century ce mentions a certain Plotius Fortunato as an archisynagogo or synagogue ruler. Given the monument’s proximity to Ostia, it is likely that this official served at the synagogue there during this phase of its existence. A separate inscription of this period from nearby Castel Porziano (ASSB no. 178) mentions a Jewish association and several officers, though their specific relationship to the synagogue is unclear. During renovations to the synagogue in the 2nd to 3rd centuries ce, the vestibule was divided into three aisles. A discarded inscription found in the later floor of this area (ASSB no. 176) alludes to an appurtenance associated with an “ark for the holy law,” originally erected in the 2nd century and replaced in the 3rd century by a certain Mindius Faustus. This was superseded in the 4th century by the construction of an aedicula at the rear of the main hall, southwest of the propyleum. The semicircular brickwork incorporates two marble colonettes topped with architraves that end in corbels featuring a menorah flanked by shofars on the right side and a lulav and etrog on the left. Four stairs lead up to an interior platform that likely supported a wooden ark containing the Torah scrolls. In other renovations in this phase, the earlier dining hall was transformed into a kitchen, and a larger banquet hall was built in a newly enclosed area northwest of the old one, accessed through a corridor leading from the vestibule. A subsequent interdisciplinary study by a team from the University of Lund (Olsson, Mitternacht, and Brandt 2001) concurred with Squarciapino’s phasing and interpretation of the structure and its functions, underscoring the building’s continuity of purpose from its founding. These archaeological discoveries testify to a religiously active and thriving Jewish community in Ostia from the early Imperial through Byzantine periods, most likely consisting of transplants

Figure 4.92  Artist’s reconstruction of the first phase of the synagogue (1st–2nd cent. ce), based on floor plan by Anders Runesson.

563

Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls

from the populous Jewish presence in the nearby capital city, as attested in numerous literary sources (e.g. Cicero, Flac. 66–67; Philo, Legat. 155–157; Josephus, Ant. 14.213–216) and artifacts (e.g. ASSB no. 183; the Montverde catacombs).

Bibliography B. Olsson, D. Mitternacht, and O. Brandt, eds. The Synagogue of Ancient Ostia and the Jews of Rome: Interdisciplinary Studies (Stockholm: Paul Åströms förlag, 2001). M. F. Squarciapino, “The Synagogue at Ostia,” Archaeology 16 (1963): 194–203. M. F. Squarciapino, “La Sinagoga di Ostia: Second campagna di Scavo,” in Atti VI Congresso Internazionale di Archeologia Cristiana (Rome: Pontifico Instituto de archeologia cristiana, 1965), 299–315. M. F. Squarciapino, “Plotius Fortunatus archisynagogus,” La Rassegna Mensile di Israel 36 (1970): 183–91. DONALD D. BINDER

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Associations; Cicero; Diaspora; Inscriptions; Josephus, Writings of; Meals; Philo of Alexandria; Synagogues.

Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls Some 15 Qumran scrolls or fragments were written in paleo-Hebrew script (Figure 4.93): 1Q3paleoLev-Numa (Barthélemy 1955: pls. VIII–IX), 2Q5paleoLev (Baillet 1962: pl. XII), 4Q11paleoGen-Exodl, 4Q12paleoGenm, 4Q22paleoExodm, 4Q45paleoDeutr, 4Q46paleoDeuts, 4Q101paleoJobc, 4Q123paleoparaJosh, 4Q124paleoUnident.Text1, 4Q125paleoUnident.Text2 (Skehan, Ulrich, Sanderson 1992: pls. I–XXXVII, XLIV–XLVI), 6Q1paleoGen, 6Q2paleoLev (Baillet 1962: pl. XX), 11Q1paleoLeva (Freedman, Mathews 1985; Puech 1989: 161–83; Tigchelaar 1997), 11Q22Unident.Text (García Martínez, Tigchelaar, Van der Woude 1998: 415–18), X8paleoDan? (Lacerenza 2000: 441–47), as well as a papyrus found in Masada: Mas pap paleoText of Sam. Origin (Talmon 1997: 18; Tov 2010). Furthermore, paleo-Hebrew script occasionally appears within manuscripts written in the Jewish-Aramaic square script, especially in writing the divine name (Tetragrammaton, El[ohim], Ṣeba’ot, ‘Adonay), as scribal markings in the margins of texts, and among cryptic texts. According to Tov (1996: 362), “The use of the paleo-Hebrew characters for divine names is almost exclusively linked to texts written by the Qumran scribes.” Unlike texts written in Jewish script (or square Hebrew), these paleo-Hebrew manuscripts do not distinguish between medial and final letters and may split words at the end of a line, with most words separated by dots. Furthermore, they generally contain neither scribal marks nor cancellation dots/strokes for the correction of mistakes. Indeed, they show minimal scribal intervention and their copying was apparently very cautiously done (Tov 2004: 254–56). Since hardly any of the paleo-Hebrew texts shares features of scribal practice linked to Qumran, they were probably not written by scribes from there (Tov 2004: 248). The list of paleo-Hebrew manuscripts suggests that paleo-Hebrew script was mainly used in copying pentateuchal books and Job. The paleo-Hebrew script seems to have been typical for traditionalist, mainly priestly circles: it is well attested in Samaria with several paleo-Hebrew inscriptions found in Mount Gerizim excavations (Magen, Misgav, Tsfania 2004: 253–59; Dušek 2007: 60–65; 2012: 54–59) and was used to copy the Samaritan Pentateuch, apparently according to a continuous scribal tradition (Baillet 1988). Actually, 4Q22paleoExodusm seems

564

Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls

Figure 4.93  Example of paleo-Hebrew script from 11Q1. Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi.

clearly enough to be a Samarian/Samaritan manuscript from the paleo-Hebrew script, given its full orthography and the nature of its text-type (Sanderson 1988; 1992: 65); the same is also the case for the Masada fragmentary papyrus (Talmon 1997), as well as for 2Q5paleoLev and 11Q1paleo-Leva (Baillet 1988: 538). Such an origin would explain the fact that paleo-Hebrew manuscripts mainly contain pentateuchal texts. This fact, however, could also be connected with Sadducean tradition (Diringer 1950: 46–49; Tov 1996); as suggested in Christian patristic literature, Sadducees and Samaritans apparently agreed on several points (Le Moyne 1972: 150– 51), and the Abba tomb inscription is probably evidence of use of paleo-Hebrew script in Jewish

565

Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls

priestly circles (Naveh 1973). The paleo-Hebrew manuscript of Job may then be explained in this light. The story of Job is situated in a patriarchal context and the book is sometimes attributed to Moses (b. B. Bat. 14b–15a; Mathews 1983: 555). According to m. Yoma 1:6, the Book of Job was read before the high priest before Yom Kippur, and the Sadducees seem to have referred to Job in order to negate the resurrection (Tanḥ., ‘Ag. Ber. § 5 [5b 4]; Le Moyne 1972: 173). The use of paleo-Hebrew script by Sadducees and Samaritans may explain why it was forbidden in later rabbinic tradition (b. Šabb. 115b; b. Sanh. 21b; Tov 1996: 365–67). Several scholars have studied the paleography of the paleo-Hebrew manuscripts (McLean 1982: Hanson 1985; Cross 1998: 384–85; Eshel 2014: 338–39). While the evolution of the shape of the letters from the end of the First Temple period is minimal for most of the letters, it is more pronounced for bet, yod, kaph, samek, and especially he with the tendency for the middle stroke to slope down to the left. One generally notes the tendency to uniformity in letter size, perhaps under influence of the Greek script. These manuscripts are especially difficult to date since paleoHebrew script is not often attested during the Persian (Hamilton 2014) and Hellenistic (Hanson 1964) periods; in addition, the dated paleo-Hebrew inscriptions are formalized legends on coins, so that comparison with script used in manuscripts is problematic. The dating of paleo-Hebrew manuscripts is only tentative: for instance, 4QpaleoExodm was dated by McLean to 100–25 bce (1982; Cross 1998: 385—“100–50 bce”) after a first dating by Hanson (1964: 37) to 225–175 bce, while the C14 calibrated dating is 159 bce–20 ce (Eshel 2014: 341). The dates proposed by the editors remain very approximate and have to be compared with the C14 dates in each case (Van De Water 2000). Thus, 11Q1paleoLeva has been dated to ca. 100 bce (Hanson 1985: 23) or 1–50 ce (Cross 1998: 385), while 4Q101paleoJobc was considered to be earlier: 225–150 bce (Skehan, Ulrich, and Sanderson 1992: 155), like 4Q46paleo-Deuts (Cross 1998: 385: “second half of the 3rd cent.”), but these last dates could be too early.

Bibliography M. Baillet, “Les divers états du pentateuque samaritain,” RevQ 13 (1988): 531–45. D. Diringer, “Early Hebrew Script versus Square Hebrew Script,” in Essays and Studies Presented to Stanley Arthur Cook, ed. D. W. Thomas (London: Taylor’s Foreign Press, 1950), 35–49. J. Dušek, “Ruling of Inscriptions in Hellenistic Samaria,” Maarav 14 (2007): 43–65. J. Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions from Mt. Gerizim and Samaria between Antiochus III and Antiochus IV Epiphanes, CHANE 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). G. J. Hamilton, “Paleo-Hebrew Texts and Scripts of the Persian Period,” “An Eye for Form” (2014), 253–90. R. S. Hanson, “Paleo-Hebrew Scripts in the Hasmonean Age,” BASOR 175 (1964): 26–42. R. S. Hanson, “Chapter II. Paleography,” The Paleo-Hebrew Leviticus Scroll (11QpaloLev) (1985), 15–23. G. Lacerenza, “Un nouveau fragment en écriture paléo-hébraïque,” RevQ 19 (2000): 441–47. J. Le Moyne, Les Sadducéens, Études bibliques (Paris: Gabalda, 1972). Y. Magen, H. Misgav, and L. Tsefania, Mount Gerizim Excavations I, JSO 2 (Jerusalem: Staff Officer of Archaeology, Civil Administration of Judea and Samaria, 2004) (Hebrew). K. A. Mathews, “The Background of the Paleo-Hebrew Texts at Qumran,” in The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of D. N. Freedman, ed C. L. Meyers and M. O’Connor (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1983), 549–68. M. D. McLean, “The Use and Development of Paleo-Hebrew in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods” (PhD diss., Cambridge: Harvard University, 1982). J. Naveh, “An Aramaic Tomb Inscription written in Paleo-Hebrew Script.” IEJ 23 (1973): 82–91. É. Puech, “Notes en marge de 11QPaléo-Lévitique. Le fragment L, des fragments inédits et une jarre de la grotte 11,” RB 97 (1989): 161–83. 566

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic

J. E. Sanderson, “The Contributions of 4QPaleoExodm to Textual Criticism,” RevQ 13 (1988): 547–60. S. Talmon, “A Masada Fragment of Samaritan Origin,” IEJ 47 (1997): 220–32. E. J. C. Tigchelaar, “Some More Small 11Q1 Fragments,” RevQ 18 (1997): 325–30. E. Tov, “The Socio-Religious Background of the Paleo-Hebrew Biblical Texts Found at Qumran,” in Geschichte—Tradition—Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel I., ed. H. Cancik, H. Lichtenberger, and P. Schäfer (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1996), 353–74. ANDRÉ LEMAIRE

Related entries: Deuteronomy, Book of; Genesis, Book of; Job, Book of; Leviticus, Book of; Literacy and Reading; Masada, Texts from; Numbers, Book of; Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic; Papyri; Persian Period; Scribes and Scribalism; Writing; Scripts and Scribal Practices.

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic During the Second Temple period, the evidence of paleo-Hebrew inscriptions continuing the scribal tradition of the First Temple period remains limited. It consists of mainly seals, bullae, stamp impressions, and coins, as well as a few monumental priestly inscriptions found on Mount Gerizim (Magen, Misgav and Tsefania 2004: 253–59; Dušek 2012: 53–59) and in Jerusalem (Naveh 1973), and a few manuscripts (mainly Pentateuch and Job) at Qumran. During the Persian period, the Aramaic language and script was used for administration in Juda, Samaria, and Idumea, as it could be used everywhere within the Achaemenid Empire. The evolution of the Aramaic script during this period is now well-known thanks to monumental inscriptions (mainly in Asia Minor), Egyptian (Porten and Yardeni 1986–1999) and Samarian papyri (Byrne 2014), parchments from Egypt (Driver 1954) and Bactria (Naveh and Shaked 2012), and ostraca mainly from Egypt (Porten and Yardeni 1999; Lozachmeur 2006) and Idumea (Lemaire 2002; Porten and Yardeni 2014). During this period the evolution of the Aramaic script seems to be the same in the whole Achaemenid Empire (Lemaire 2014). Soon after Alexander the Great’s conquests in the East, the use of Aramaic script became more geographically limited and it developed differently in each Semitic region. In SyriaPalestine, three primary scripts developed in the Palmyrene and Nabatean kingdoms as well as in Judea. This last script was used to write not only Aramaic but also Hebrew texts, especially Hebrew literary texts, likely from the 4th century bce. This script may be called “Judean Aramaic” or “Jewish script,” or else “square Hebrew.” Aramaic script was already used by the Assyrian Empire, which is why this script is also called “Assyrian script” in the Talmudic tradition where its use for writing biblical texts is connected to Ezra (b. Sanh. 21b–22a; y. Meg. I:8b). This last connection is a way to justify its use in copying biblical texts rather than the paleo-Hebrew script used by priestly circles among Samarians/Samaritans and probably Sadducees. Most of the stone and clay Hebrew and Aramaic inscriptions from the Hellenistic and Early Roman period are now generally collected within the Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palastinae (Cotton et al. 2010–2012) and in the three volumes of Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis (Noy and Bloedhorn 2004; Ameling 2004; Noy, Panayotov and Bloedhorn 2004). These inscriptions are of different types: they may be monumental (for instance, most of the Mount Gerizim inscriptions: Dušek 2012), graffiti, formal (or book hand), cursive, or extreme cursive. They are very rarely precisely dated but the archaeological context may help to provide an approximate date. For instance, several hundred inscriptions on ossuaries are to be dated to the Herodian period, i.e., from 10 bce to 70 ce (Rahmani 1994). 567

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic

The literary Qumran and Masada manuscripts were generally copied on leather, less often on papyrus. Their paleography has been studied mainly by Cross (1961; 1998; 2000; cf. Eshel 2014), while A. Yardeni (2000; 2014) presented a synthesis of the evolution of the Jewish script of the other documentary inscriptions. During the early Hellenistic period, the Aramaic script was apparently the same in Judea, Idumea, and Egypt. There are now three anchors to fix the evolution of the Palestinian Aramaic script: a Maresha ostracon precisely dated to 176 bce (Eshel and Kloner 1996), a bilingual one from Khirbet el-Kôm probably to be dated to the sixth year of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (=277 bce: Geraty 1975), and several Aramaic ostraca dated according to Macedonian Rulers (Alexander, Philip, Antigonus, Ptolemy I; see Porten and Yardeni 2014: xxx–xxxix; Lemaire 2015: 107–10), also probably from Khirbet el-Kôm. The book hand style of the Maresha ostracon is especially important to compare with the “archaic” formal script of the early Qumran manuscripts, for instance 4QSamuelb (= 4Q52, late 3rd cent bce?; cf. Cross 1975; Figure 4.94), 4QExodus-Leviticusf (=4Q17, late 3rd or early 2nd cent. bce?), and 4QJeremiaha (= 4Q70, early 2nd cent. bce?). This “archaic” book hand still presents widely differing sizes of letters below and above the ceiling line and generally preserves fixed shading. There is apparently a trend to create semi-ligatures: the scribe bends the final stroke of a letter in the direction of writing. The tendency to lengthen a few final letters (k, m, n, p and sometimes b, l, and ṣ) is clear but not standardized. During the Hasmonean period (ca. 150–40 bce), there is a trend to uniformity of letter size, perhaps under the influence of Greek, but it is implemented throughout. For instance,

Figure 4.94 4QSamb (4Q52; late 3rd cent. bce). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi.

568

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic

the medial forms of kaph, mem, nun, pe, and tsade are still longer than other letters and go down beyond an imaginary baseline while lamed and ayin do not reach this baseline. The left downstroke of the tav tends to be as short as the right one. Shading becomes idiosyncratic. The tops of vav and yod become angular, and a hook develops at the top of the lamed. Many Qumran manuscripts seem to belong to this period, for instance the famous 1QIsaiaha scroll (Figure 4.95). Most of the Qumran manuscripts belong to the Herodian period (ca. 40 bce to 70 ce; Figure 4.96). The book hand becomes more and more standardized and increasingly “square.” Letters still hang from the ceiling line, but there is also some sort of baseline, occasionally marked in drypoint. Furthermore, letters may be adorned with additional ornaments such as “tittles” or keraiai (triangular ticks) while new shading is often used. The baseline of the bet is penned from left to right, often beyond the right downstroke. Yod and vav become practically indistinguishable. Samek is closed with a somewhat triangular shape. The long tail of qoph resists the standardization of the letter size while both legs of tav have the same length. This typology of the evolution of the script can only suggest an approximate date. The approximation was estimated to “a half century” by Cross (2000: 631). The approximate dating

Figure 4.95 1QIsaa col. xxxiii lines 6–24 (Isa 40:6–24).

569

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic

Figure 4.96  11Q19 col xliv lines 11–16 (early 1st cent. ce).

Figure 4.97  1QS col. iii lines 13–26 (early 1st cent. bce).

570

Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic

Figure 4.98  4Q175 lines 1–8 (late 2nd cent. bce).

Figure 4.99  1QM col i lines 1–9 (late 1st cent. bce).

also has to be compared with the results of C14 analyses that give an approximate date for the inscribed material. Though the dates reached by both methods generally agree, there are a few exceptions that must be taken into account in nuancing the paleographic date (Van De Water 2000). Paleographical analysis may also suggest that several manuscripts were written by the same scribe. For instance, the scribe of 1QS (=1QSerek ha-Yaḥad, Figure 4.97) apparently also wrote 1QSa (=1QSerek ha-’Edah) and 1QSb (=1QBerakhot), as well as 4Q175 (=4QTestimonia, Figure 4.98) and 4Q53 (=4QSamuelc). This script allows for the inference that this scribe would have been active ca. 100–75 bce (Tigchelaar 2003). Ulrich (2007) proposed to identify the scribe of 1QPsalmsb (=1Q10), 4QIsaiahc (=4Q57), and 1QM (=1Q33 Figure 4.99) as a careful copyist who was active ca. 25–50 ce, while A. Yardeni (2007) gave a list of more than 50 manuscripts that 571

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could have been written by the same scribe working during the first half of the Herodian period (1st cent. bce to the beginning of the 1st cent. ce).

Bibliography R. Byrne, “The Aramaic Papyri Scripts,” “An Eye for Form” (2014), 291–313. F. M. Cross, “The Development of the Jewish Scripts,” The Bible and the Ancient Near East (1961), 133–202. F. M. Cross, “The Oldest Manuscripts from Qumran,” in Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text, ed. F. M. Cross and S. Talmon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975), 147–76. F. M. Cross, “Paleography,” EDSS (2000), 2:629–34. G. R. Driver, Aramaic Documents of the Fifth Century B.C. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1954). J. Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions from Mt. Gerizim and Samaria between Antiochus III and Antiochus IV Epiphanes, CHANE 24 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). E. Eshel and A. Kloner, “An Aramaic Ostracon of an Edomite Marriage Contract from Maresha, Dated 176 B.C.E,” IEJ 46 (1996): 1–22. L. Geraty, “The Khirbet el-Kôm Bilingual Ostracon,” BASOR 230 (1975): 55–61. A. Lemaire, Nouvelles insciptions araméennes d’époque perse II. Collections Moussaïeff, Jeselsohn, Welch et divers. Supplément 9 à Transeuphratène (Paris: Gabalda, 2002). A. Lemaire, “Scripts of Post-Iron Age Aramaic Inscriptions and Ostraca,” “An Eye for Form” (2014), 235–52. A. Lemaire, Levantine Epigraphy and History in the Achaemenid Period (539–332 BCE), The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 2013 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). H. Lozachmeur, La collection Clermont-Ganneau: ostraca, épigraphes sur jarre, etiquettes sur bois, MAIBL 35, 2 vols. (Paris: Diffusion de Boccard, 2006). Y. Magen, H. Misgav, and L. Tsfania, Mount Gerizim Excavations I. The Aramaic, Hebrew and Samaritan Inscriptions, JSP 2 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2004). J. Naveh, “An Aramaic Tomb Inscription in Aramaic Script,” IEJ 23 (1973): 82–91. E. Ulrich, “Identification of a Scribe Active at Qumran: 1QPsb-4QIsac-11QM,” Meghillot 5–6 (2007): 201*–10*. A. Yardeni, “A Note on a Qumran Scribe,” in New Seals and Inscriptions, Hebrew, Idumean and Cuneiform, ed. M. Lubetski, HBM 8 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2007), 287–98. ANDRÉ LEMAIRE

Related entries: Literacy and Reading; Masada, Texts from; Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Seals and Seal Impressions; Writing.

Paleography, Greek With the rise of Alexander the Great (336–323 bce) the Greek language became an international language, especially in the eastern half of the Mediterranean lands but even as far East as the Indus valley. For the history of Greek handwriting up to the 5th century ce scholars are mostly dependent on papyri manuscripts discovered in inland Egypt. However, a few manuscripts on parchment have been preserved outside of Egypt, and mostly they reveal a uniformity of style. Various paleographers have sought to broadly classify Greek hands found in the papyri using such terms as “documentary,” “reformed documentary,” and “book hands.” Schubart used the terms “Geschäftsschrift,” “Schönschrift,” and “persönliche Handschrift” to cover the range of scripts (Schubart 1925: 13–23). Turner and Parsons advocate the term “capital” for letters that are written separately and not joined together. Other terms such as “biblical uncial” have been used to describe certain hands that use broad and narrow contrasting strokes. Many of the above terms cloud the historical and social implications of the manuscript being studied as they either prejudge their use or are not strictly accurate (Turner 1987: 1–3). 572

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The descriptors “cursive” and “block letters” are more useful terms to describe the overall style of writing in any manuscript. Cursive writing may refer to the linking or running together of strokes within letters, or it may refer to sequences of letters being linked together (“running writing”). The latter is meant by this term; it is handwriting that is characterized by some letters linked together and written with minimal lifting of the pen. As most documents were written in this style of handwriting it is often referred to as “documentary handwriting” (see Figure 4.100). Block writing is where the letters are formed without any ligatures and stand alone. The style includes the awkward hand of a student and the so-called “biblical uncial” with its highly calligraphic features. Block letters may be written as if influenced by the cut letters on inscriptions or by the cursive formation of individual letters. For example, the letter “E” is written in two strokes instead of three. This style of writing is generally referred to as a “book hand” as most literary books were written in this style (see Figure 4.101). Generally there is a marked difference between the hand used for literary works (generally block) and that of documents (generally cursive). Within these two classes of handwriting several distinct graphic streams may emerge (Barker 2011: 572, 573). Any discussion on the nature of Greek handwriting and its history must be viewed with caution as paleographical analysis is fraught with difficulties, such as the chance nature of archaeological finds and modern ignorance of the details of how scribes were taught and how styles spread

Figure 4.100  Section from an exchange of land from the archive of Aspidas, P. Macquarie inv. 356, May–December 334 ce? 573

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Figure 4.101  A fragment of the Iliad, P. Mich. inv. 2810 II ce.

and changed. Individual variants due to creativity or distortions caused by a scribe’s haste, the age of the scribe, and deliberate archaisms may also “muddy the waters.” Further comparative difficulties arise in that it is sometimes difficult to compare like with like, to compare a firmly dated hand with a similar undated hand. Where no such control exists paleographers often resort to assigned dated manuscripts as comparanda, which of course can lead to circularity of argument. First and foremost, identification of a hand’s graphic stream is of vital importance, delimiting the fundamental peculiarities of a hand and where it might possibly sit in the time frame of Greek handwriting. One must also take into consideration that a particular graphic stream may persist for some period of time, perhaps even for a hundred years or so (Pickering 1998: 221, 222). Along with firmly dated literary manuscripts, firmly dated documentary texts that are written in block writing are the most obvious comparanda for dating literary manuscripts. Limited knowledge of scribal training and the nature of the comparanda prohibits a narrow dating of hands unless there is reliable evidence to warrant otherwise. Nevertheless, broad trends over long periods of times can be discerned (Barker 2011: 572, 573). The history of Greek handwriting is divided into three main periods: Ptolemaic, Roman, and Byzantine. The following, of necessity, is a generalization. The earliest Greek papyrus yet discovered is probably the Persae of Timotheus, which dates from the second half of the 4th century bce (Cavallo 2008: 7). Letters such as E, Σ, and Ω are in the “uppercase” form while the overall letter formations are angular in appearance (see Figure 4.102). The hand of the earliest 574

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Figure 4.102  A section of Persae of Timotheus, 4th century bce.

dated papyrus, a contract of 310 bce, is written in a block hand with more ease and elegance; the letters are not linked, and though the “lowercase” Σ (with the form “c”) is used throughout, E and Ω have “uppercase” forms. With the expansion of the Alexandrian Empire and its associated large bureaucracy, more cursive styles emerged alongside the block scripts in order to facilitate speedy writing (Cavallo 2008: 11). One such cursive resembled clothes hanging from a clothesline. The tops of the letters are fairly straight, while the bottom parts of the letters hang to various lengths (see Figure 4.103). With the change to Roman rule in the Greek-speaking East, a greater variety of cursive hands developed. The Chancery script was one such hand where the formation of the letters is unusually tall and laterally compressed (see Figure 4.104). Another hand, labeled the “severe” style by the paleographer Schubart, has a more angular appearance (see Figure 4.105). A hand known as the biblical uncial appears to have had its origins in the 2nd century. This block script has a square, rather heavy appearance; the letters, of uniform size, stand upright with thick and thin strokes and despite its name was not limited to biblical manuscripts (see Figure 4.106) (Cavallo 2009: 128, 129). Writing styles in the Byzantine period continued to evolve, and some graphic streams became more exuberant, excessively extending long strokes and often enlarging individual letters (see Figure 4.107) (Cavallo 2009: 114). Among Second Temple Judaism manuscripts is a roll containing the Minor Prophets discovered at Naḥal Ḥever, (Tov 1995: 1; see Figure 4.108). Two hands have been identified as having written the manuscript. Both hands are formally written on parchment in what is commonly called a “book hand.” As the roll was discovered in what is known as the “Cave of Horrors” a terminus ante quem of ca. 135 ce can be given for its writing, however there is no objective evidence for a terminus post quem. A paleographical dating has been assigned by at least three papyrologists. C. H. Roberts argues for the range 50 bce–50 ce; T. C. Skeat opts for the 1st century bce; and P. Parsons, who compared the two hands to late Ptolemaic and early Roman hands from Egypt and Qumran, tentatively assigns the hands a late 1st-century bce date (Parsons 1995: 23–26). Because of the uncertainties associated with dating undated manuscripts it is perhaps safer to follow Roberts’ suggestion and to assign a date from 50 bce to 50 ce. At Qumran a number of Greek manuscripts have been discovered, mostly dated paleographically to the 1st–2nd century bce. In Cave 7 all 19 manuscripts found were Greek papyri and all are of a 575

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Figure 4.103  A Royal decree, 237 bce, P. Mich. inv. 3106.

Figure 4.104  Private letter, P. Mich.inv. 374, late 3rd–early 4th century ce.

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Figure 4.105  Shepherd of Hermas, P. Mich. 2.2 129, later half of 3rd century ce.

Figure 4.106  Knights of Aristophanes, P. Mich. inv.6035, 2nd/3rd century ce.

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Figure 4.107  Private letter, P. Mich. inv.1614, 6th century ce.

Figure 4.108  Fragment containing Malachi 3:7 (8ḤevXIIgr; mid-1st cent. bce–mid-1st cent. ce). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

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literary nature. Some of the Greek literary fragments from Cave 7, Cave 4, and Naḥal Ḥever have enlarged initial letters at the beginning of a line or phrase, set out in the margin to mark a new section, and/or spacing for sense divisions. Early Christian books show the same characteristics, but the Greek classics do not (Johnson 2009: 261). It would seem that the early Christians inherited the practice from Jewish scribes (Kraft 2004 and Parsons 1995: 23, 24).

Bibliography D. Barker, “The Dating of New Testament Papyri,” NTS 57 (2011): 571–82. G. Cavallo, “Greek and Latin Writing in the Papyri,” The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology (2009), 101–36. G. Cavallo and H. Maehler, eds. Hellenistic Bookhands (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008). R. Cribiore, Writing, Teachers and Students in Graeco-Roman Egypt (Atlanta: Scholars, 1996). K. Haines-Eitzen, Guardians of Letters: Literacy, Power, and the Transmitters of Early Christian Literature (Oxford: Oxford University, 2000). W. A. Johnson, Bookrolls and Scribes in Oxyrhynchus (Toronto: University of Toronto, 2004). W. A. Johnson, “The Ancient Book,” The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology (2009), 256–81. R. A. Kraft, “From Jewish Scribes to Christian Scriptoria,” http:​//cca​t.sas​.upen​n.edu​/rak/​/earl​ylxx/​SBL20​ 04.ht​m. P. J. Parsons, “Revie​w:of_​Caval​lo_Ri​cerch​e_sul​la_Ma​iusco​la_Bi​blica​ Ricerche sulla maiuscola biblica by Guglielmo Cavallo,” Gnomon 42.4 (July 1970), 375–80. P. Parsons, “The Scripts and Their Date,” DJD 7 (1995): 19–26. S. R. Pickering, “The Dating of the Chester Beatty –Michigan Codex of the Pauline Epistles (P46),” in Ancient History in a Modern University, ed. T. W. Hillard, R. A. Kearsley, C. E. V. Nixon, and A. M. Nobbs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 216–27. W. Schubart, Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft Palaeographie. Erster Teil: Griechische Palaeographie (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1925). E. M. Thompson, An Introduction to Greek and Latin Palaeography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1912). E. G. Turner, Greek Manuscripts of the Ancient World, ed. P. J. Parsons, 2nd ed. (London: University of London, 1987). DON BARKER

Related entries: Hellenism and Hellenization; Literacy and Reading; Papyri from Qumran Cave 7; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practice; Writing.

Palestine The term “Palestine” (Greek Παλαιστίνη, Latin Palaestina) appears first in Herodotus (e.g. 2.104–6, 3.5), for whom it denoted Mediterranean southwestern Asia between Egypt and Phoenicia. Subsequent classical authors, as well as Philo and Josephus, applied the term in the same way, though Josephus also used it to refer more specifically to the land of the Philistines (e.g. Ant. 1.145 vs. 2.322–23). “Palestine” acquired a political connotation only after the Bar Kokhba revolt (132–135 or 136 ce) when the Romans named the province Syria Palaestina. Palestine consists of four geographical regions: (1) the coastal plain (the Plain of Sharon), (2) the highlands from the mountains of Galilee and Mount Carmel in the north to the hills of Samaria and Judea in the center and the low hills of the Negev desert in the south, (3) a series of valleys from the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea in the north to the Gulf of Eilat

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in the south, and (4) another range of mountains and plateaus beyond which extends the desert plateau of Arabia. As a whole, Palestine enjoys a typically Mediterranean climate, with hot summers, somewhat humid on the coast, and moderate winters with little rain—hardly any in the south. Farmers cultivated fruits and grain in the coastal plains and valleys while herders used the hills for pasturage. The region’s situation as a crossroads in the eastern Mediterranean and southwestern Asia ensured its prominence in antiquity as many peoples and empires vied for its control. The Persian Empire controlled Palestine from 539 bce, shortly before the construction of the second Temple, until Alexander the Great conquered the area in 332 bce. After his death his successors fought for control of Palestine, with the Ptolemies dominating the region during the 3rd century bce, succeeded by the Seleucids at the beginning of the 2nd century. The Maccabean Revolt (167–160 bce) weakened Seleucid control and enabled the emergence of the Hasmonean kingdom, which by the end of the century subsumed all of Palestine. In 63 bce the region came under Roman control as a client kingdom or group of client kingdoms under such local monarchs as Herod the Great. In 6 ce its heart, Judea, became a province under the authority of the governor of Syria, but the Jewish Revolt of 66 to 73 or 74 ce prompted Vespasian to reorganize Judea as a senatorial province. A number of Semitic peoples populated Palestine: Phoenicians, Galileans, and Samaritans to the north; Ammonites to the east; and Judeans, Idumeans, and Arabs to the south. Due to foreign occupation, Persians, Greeks, and finally Romans also lived in Palestine. The Greeks generated a considerable degree of hellenization, a process that occasioned various reactions during the Hasmonean period.

Bibliography D. M. Jacobson, “Palestine and Israel,” BASOR 313 (February, 1999): 65–74. Y. Tsafrir, L. D. Segni, and J. Green, Tabula Imperii Romani Iudaea-Palaestina: Eretz Israel in the Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine Periods (Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1994). CLAYTON MILES LEHMANN

Related entries: Agriculture; Coele-Syria; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Nabatea; Philo of Alexandria; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Emperors.

Palmyra Although the history of Palmyra (Semitic name Tadmūr) in the Syrian Desert can be traced back to the 3rd millennium bce, it came to prominence as a commercial center much later, in the Persian and Hellenistic periods. It flourished as an autonomous city of the Roman Empire in the 1st to 3rd centuries ce, its success arising from its control and taxation of the trade route linking the Roman Mediterranean with Mesopotamia, the Gulf (where it maintained trade colonies), and beyond (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). It was regarded by the Romans as a bulwark against the Parthian Empire, but was destroyed by the former in 270–272 ce after Palmyra tried to take over the eastern part of the Empire. This was in the era of Odainat and his legendary widow Zenobia. She was taken prisoner to Rome, though some reports say she fled beyond the Euphrates (Smith 2013: 21–32, 175–81).

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Until the widespread destructions of 2015 the site of Palmyra was well-preserved and had been thoroughly studied (Syrian, French, and Polish excavations). Several major buildings were uncovered, including a massive temple dedicated to the god Bēl (who is a late reflection of BēlMarduk of Babylon) and lesser temples dedicated, e.g., to Nebō, Baʿalshamīn, and Allāt. There was also a cult of an anonymous god who went under the title “Blessed be his Name forever” and was described as “the Merciful One.” The older view that such titles developed under Jewish influence is now discounted (Teixidor 1979: 116), but the presence of Jews in Palmyra in the 1st century ce is clear from inscriptions found at the site (Noy and Bloedhorn 2004: 69–83) and from Jewish Palmyrene inscriptions from Beth Sheʿarim (Noy and Bloedhorn 2004: 227–32). Note also “Miriam of Palmyra” mentioned in passing in Mishnah Nazir 6:11. Benjamin of Tudela (1130–73) noted the presence of 2,000 Jews in Palmyra when he visited the city (Adler 1907: 31 [English], 31–32 [Hebrew]). Approximately 3,000 Palmyrene Aramaic inscriptions have been published, with 600 of them being short epigraphs on tesserae (coin-like tokens used by religious and social guilds; Hillers and Cussini 1996, supplemented by Yon 2014). These inscriptions, often visible to passersby, are honorific of prominent individuals, dedicatory to deities, and funerary that are frequently found on tomb monuments (Figure 4.109). The range of dates of the Palmyrene Aramaic inscriptions is approximately 300 years, from 44 bce to the 270s ce. Aramaic was used alongside Greek, and there are ca. 160 bilinguals, particularly interesting from the point of view of translation technique: it appears that the two versions of a text were often composed independently, though some of the bilinguals represent official proclamations of the city council (βουλή, boulē) containing technical details which had to be represented accurately. This consideration must have

Figure 4.109  Tomb no. 5 bearing funerary inscription, located in the western Necropolis of Palmyra (83 ce). 581

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influenced the Palmyrene tax tariff of 137 ce, a long bilingual (ca. 175 lines of Aramaic), drawn up to fix municipal taxes (Shifman 2014). The presence of Jews in Roman-period Palmyra is clear, as we know from distinctively Jewish personal names: PAT 0557 (šmwʾl br lwy br yʿqwb, dated 212 ce), 0104 (mwsʾ, undated), and 0526 (šmʿwn br ʾbʾ br ḥnynʾ, dated 191 ce; see Moss 1928). The name šmʿwn is, however, quite common (0013, 2243; see Stark 1971: 52) and may have been used by pagans or assimilated Jews (0300: whblt br šmʿwn). Palmyrene Jews also visited Jerusalem, where they are mentioned in burial inscriptions (Noy and Bloedhorn 2004: 227–32). Greek, with or without an Aramaic version, is used for “public” purposes in Palmyra, to make known the decrees of the city or to honor high-ranking citizens, but Aramaic monolinguals predominate in funerary inscriptions, which are legalistic in content and language (dealing with ownership and transfer of tombs). Legal formularies and terms are similar to those of the Samaria and Babatha archives.

Bibliography M. N. Adler, The Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela: Critical Text, Translation and Commentary (London: Henry Frowde, 1907). D. R. Hillers and E. Cussini, Palmyrene Aramaic Texts (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996). T. Kaizer, The Religious Life of Palmyra, Oriens et Occidens 4 (Stuttgart: F. Steiner Verlag, 2002). C. Moss, “Jews and Judaism in Palmyra,” PEQ 60 (1928): 100–7. D. Noy and H. Bloedhorn, Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis: III Syria and Cyprus, TSAJ 102 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). I. Sh. Shifman, The Palmyrene Tax Tariff, JSS Supplement 33 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). A. M. Smith, Roman Palmyra: Identity, Community and State Formation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). J. K. Stark, Personal Names in Palmyrene Inscription (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971). J. Teixidor, The Pantheon of Palmyra, Études préliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’Empire Romain 79 (Leiden: Brill, 1979). J.-B. Yon, “L’épigraphie palmyrénienne depuis PAT, 1996–2011,” Studia Palmyreńskie 12 (2014): 333–79. JOHN F. HEALEY

Related entries: Associations; Multilingualism; Names and Naming; Parthians.

Papyri The vast majority of papyri edited to date originate from Egypt but—more recently—papyri and related material (esp. ostraca, wooden and wax tablets, and parchments) also have been found through excavation and in collections in Israel, Libya, Jordan, Syria, India, Afghanistan, Greece, Italy, Romania, Great Britain, and Switzerland (Oates and Willis 2001–). Papyri written by Jews or in a Jewish context are mostly from Egypt (esp. Elephantine, Heracleopolis, Samaria/ Arsinoites, Apollinopolis Magna, and Alexandria), Israel (Masada), and the Judean Desert (Qumran, ʿEin-Gedi, Wadi Murabbaʿat, and Naḥal Η̣ever; see Porten and Yardeni 1986–1999), and Syria (Dura Europos). In general, papyrologists distinguish between three main genres (Palme 2009): (1) literary (including biblical), (2) semiliterary (e.g. medical treatises and prescriptions, horoscopes, magical texts), and (3) documentary texts. This also holds true for papyri that illuminate the 582

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literature and culture as well as the political, business, social, and religious life of Second Temple Judaism. Beyond Greek materials, papyri relating to the Second Temple period are written in Hebrew, Aramaic, Nabatean, and Latin. Literary Papyri.  Aramaic and Hebrew. It is on papyri that some of earliest texts of writings from the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple period, both religious and legal, are attested. This is evidenced already among the Aramaic materials from Elephantine from the late 5th and early 4th centuries bce, as well as from the Wadi ed-Daliyeh materials from the mid- to late 4th century. From the Hellenistic period, the best-known examples from Judea are found among the scrolls from Qumran (on which, see Tov 2010)—especially Cave 1 (1Q70, 1Q70bis), Cave 4 (96 MSS, most significantly: 4Q51a, 4Q69 = 4QpapIsap, 4Q127 = paraExod gr, 4Q163 = 4Q pap pIsac, 4Q196 = 4QpapToba ar, 4Q217 = 4QpapJubb?, 4Q223–224 = 4QpapJubh–i, 4Q273 = 4QDh, 4Q382 = 4Qpap paraKings, 4Q384 = 4Qpap apocrJer B?, 4Q391 = 4Qpap psEzeke, 4Q398 = 4Qpap MMTe, 4Q432 = 4QpapHf, 4Q433a = 4QpapHodayot-like Text B, 4Q558 = 4QpapVisionb ar), Cave 6 (18 MSS, esp.: 6Q4 = 6QpapKgs, 6Q7 = 6QpapDan, 6Q8 = 6QpapGiants ar, 6Q23 = 6QWords of Michael), Cave 7 (fragments in Greek from some 19 MSS), and Cave 9 (1 fragment)— as well as from nearby Masada (Hebrew), Wadi Murabbaʿat (Hebrew and Aramaic), and Naha ̣ l Ḥever (Cave of Horrors and Cave of Letters) (Hebrew, Aramaic, Nabatean, Greek). From the Cave of Letters at Naḥal Ḥever, significant finds on papyrus include the Greek Minor Prophets scroll (TM 62296; 50 bce–50 ce). Notably, there is the so-called Nash Papyrus (TM 113846), a papyrus sheet copied in Hebrew from Egypt, which, dated to the 2nd to 1st century bce, preserves the earliest attestation of the Ten Commandments (Exod 20:2–17; Deut 5:6–21) and the Shema Israel (Deut 6:4). Greek. While most materials from Egypt containing portions of the Greek Septuagint are mostly of Christian origin, some with Greek text relating to the Hebrew Bible are earlier and Jewish, especially P.Ryl. III 458 (TM 62298), from Arsinoites in Egypt and dated to the 2nd century bce, preserving, e.g., Deuteronomy 23–28. Three further scrolls, also from the Arsinoite nome, dated from the 1st century bce to 25 ce (TM 62289, 62290, 62292), contain portions of Genesis and Deuteronomy. P.Oxy. L 3522 (TM 61922), from Oxyrhynchus, dated to the first half of the 1st century ce, preserves text from Job 42:11–12 in Greek using the Hebrew Tetragram. Two literary papyri from Egypt—P.Köln XII 467 (2nd cent. bce) and P.Oslo II 14 pp. 27–29 nd (2 cent. ce)—represent the earliest textual witnesses to the Sibylline Oracles in the Jewish tradition. Some early papyri preserve portions of Philo and Josephus; however, they are dated to the post-Second Temple period and are probably Christian. Semiliterary Papyri.  Among semiliterary papyri of Jewish origin are phylacteries and amulets. Of relevance for this kind of papyri are also the so-called Acta Alexandrinorum or “Acts of the Alexandrian Martyrs,” as they contain anti-Semitic polemics, typical for Alexandrian Greeks during the first three centuries ce. Documentary Papyri.  The Murabbaʿât caves yielded what may be the earliest Aramaic private letter known thus far (P. Murabbaʿât 17, 8th cent. bce). Correspondence and pieces relating to the Bar Kokhba revolt (attributed to Simon ben Kosiba) as well as legal documents from the 583

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Babatha archive are written in Hebrew, Aramaic, Nabatean or Greek. Of similar importance are the Greek papyri related to the Jewish politeuma of Ptolemaic Heracleopolis. These and related documentary papyri illuminate many aspects of Jewish life during the Second Temple period, as illustrated by the following selection of examples from different spheres of social interaction: (1) Marriage. CPR XVIII 8 (TM 7794; Theogonis/Arsinoites, 18 May–16 June 231 or 12 May–10 June 206 bce) is a receipt for the dowry of the Jewish woman Nikopole, who is married to the Jew Diagoras. CPR XVIII 9 (TM 7795; same place of origin, same date) is a receipt issued by a bride’s mother that the bridegroom has returned the dowry after divorce; that, however, the divorcing/divorced husband had to fulfill some open duties toward his former mother-in-law can be concluded from no. 11 (TM 7797; same place, same date), namely the lease of a yard. Another document, P.Polit.Jud. 4 (TM 44620; Heracleopolis, before 12 January 134 bce), testifies that Jewish law was carried out in a rural Jewish community: Philotas, member of the Jewish politeuma, submits a petition against Lysimachos because he had promised his daughter to Philotas and arranged for the dowry, but soon afterward handed her over to another man without Philotas’ issuing a letter of divorce. P.Enteux. 23 with BL XII 67 (C.Pap.Jud. I 128; TM 3298; Magdola/ Arsinoites, 11 May 218 bce) consists of a petition brought by the (Jewish?) wife of a Jew to the Ptolemaic king concerning insults by her husband (with a fragmentary and thus obscure reference to a Jewish law concerning marriage). (2) Wet Nurse. BGU IV 1153 I (C.Pap.Jud. II 147; TM 18603; Alexandria, 16 May 14 bce) comprises the conclusion of an annulled contract with a Jewish wet nurse, Martha, who waives all claims against the owner of the slave child as well as against another woman, probably another wet nurse. A different termination of a contract with a wet nurse is found in C.Pap.Graec. I 8 (TM 70153; Alexandria, 7–6 bce): the nursed child was obviously the nurse’s own and had been mortgaged to a certain Patrikos the year before; perhaps in accordance with Leviticus 25:49, it is now the mother’s uncle who releases her from her duties. (3) Farming Transactions. A papyrus from the well-known Zenon archive is P.Cair.Zen. III 59377 (C.Pap.Jud. I 13; TM 1020; Arsinoites, mid-3rd cent. bce). It contains the complaint of two Jewish peasants who are unable to irrigate their land without the loan that Zenon had promised to give them long ago. P.Ryl. IV 578 (C.Pap.Jud. I 43; TM 5298; Arsinoites, 159–158 bce) is the petition of a certain Judas regarding an unjustified raise of the amount of the annual rent by the village scribe. Another petition, SB XXVI 16801 (TM 44708; Phnebieus/Heracleopolites, after 24 August 147 or after 21 August 136 bce), is concerned with the double payment of a rent. BGU VI 1282 (C.Pap.Jud. I 46; TM 7332; Arsinoites?, 2nd–1st cent. bce) preserves an agreement about the joint use of a pottery-making facility between two Jewish potters and three Egyptians. The owner of the facility is a Jew too.” P.Köln III 144 (TM 2837; Arsinoites, 3 February 152 bce) is a lease of viticultural labor that names a certain Simon and his partners as the lessees. (4) Community Resolution. The fragmentary P.Ryl. IV 590 (C.Pap.Jud. I 138; TM 5306; unknown origin, 51–30 bce?) contains a resolution emerging from an association meeting in a (probably) Jewish prayerhouse. 584

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(5) Taxes. A remarkable number of papyri are concerned with the payment of taxes. Among them is BGU IV 1140 (C.Pap.Jud. II 151; TM 18584; Alexandria, 14? February 4 bce), the petition of Helenos, an Alexandrian Jew, son of an Alexandrian citizen, made to the praefectus Aegypti to release him from the poll tax due to his status as well as to his being overage. P.Harrauer 33 (TM 58205; Ptolemais Euergetis?/Arsinoites, after 28 September 15 ce or after 27 September 37 or 41 ce) contains the register of tax payers in the Jewish quarter of the metropolis who have paid the poll tax and other types of taxes (e.g. the pig tax). An ostracon, W.Chr. 295 (C.Pap.Jud. II 160; TM 23485; Apollonopolis, 71–72 ce), is the earliest example of a receipt for the fiscus Iudaicus, while SB XXVI 16697 (TM 97151; Tebtynis?/Arsinoites, after? 92–93 ce) registers the whole nome’s revenues of this particular tax between 75/76 and 92/93 CE (see also SPP IV, pp. 58–83 [TM 14986; C.Pap. Jud. II 421; Ptolemais Euergetis/Arsinoites, ca. 73 ce]). (6) Crime. Of rather dramatic contents are documents that refer to crimes committed by or against Jews. A good example of this is P.Tebt. III.1 730 (TM 5333; C.Pap.Jud. I 131; Tebtynis/Arsinoites, 11 December 178 or 8 December 167 bce), which is a report by an ephodos that he has detected a pool of blood and been told by village people that a certain Theodotos is missing. (7) Political Decisions. The famous letter of Claudius to the Alexandrians, preserved as an attachment to an edict that was issued by the governor in Alexandria (P. Lond. VI 1912 [TM 16850; C.Pap.Jud. II 153; 10 November 41 ce]), informs—among other things—of the Roman emperor’s decisions concerning the Alexandrian Jews after the pogrom under Flaccus (cf. ll. 73–104 with BL III, p. 99, and XI, p. 122; on the uprisings, see also the private letter BGU IV 1079 [TM 9456; C.Pap.Jud. II 152; Philadelphia/Arsinoites, 4 August 41 ce]). (8) Letters. The fragmentary business letter of Abaskantos to Judas, SB XXIV 15988 (TM 21002), is the only Greek papyrus of any substance from Masada and the earliest Greek documentary papyrus from Israel, written some time before the fall of the Jewish stronghold (between 67 and 74 ce). (9) Deeds of Sale. A number of deeds, all in Aramaic, and from the 4th century bce well before and up until the incursion of Alexander the Great’s army, have been recovered from Wadi ed-Daliyeh. A majority of them have to do with the sale of slaves.

Bibliography M. Depauw and T. Gheldof, “An Interdisciplinary Platform for Ancient World Texts and Related Information,” in Theory and Practice of Digital Libraries, ed. L. Bolikowski, V. Casarosa, P. Goodale, N. Houssos, P. Manghi, and J. Schirrwagen (Cham: Springer, 2014), 40–52. J. F. Oates and W. H. Willis, eds., Checklist of Editions of Greek, Latin, Demotic, and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca, and Tablets, BSAP.S 9, 5th ed. (Oakville/Oxford: American Society of Papyrologists, 2001); updated online by J. D. Sosin, R. S. Bagnall, J. M. S. Cowey, M. Depauw, T. G. Wilfong, and K. A. Worp, eds., at http://papyri.info/docs/checklist. B. Palme, “The Range of Documentary Texts: Types and Categories,” The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology 2009), 358–92. PETER ARZT-GRABNER

Related entries: Babatha Archive; Bar Kokhba Letters; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Decalogue; Elephantine and Elephantine Papyri; Herakleopolis Papyri; Magical Papyri, Jewish; Marriage and Divorce; Masada, Texts from; Murabba’at, Wadi; Papyri from Qumran Cave 7. 585

Parthians

Parthians The Parthians stemmed from the Parni, an Iranian tribe belonging to the Dahae settled in the region of northeastern Iran. Its ruling dynasty, the Arsacids, first emerged in the 3rd century bce. They gradually surged westwards at the expense of the Seleucids, conquering Seleucid Mesopotamia in 141 bce, in the reign of Mithridates I (171–138 bce). Shortly after defeating Rome at the battle of Carrhae in 53 bce, the Parthians became involved in Judean affairs. After overrunning Syria, they reached Judea in 40 bce and set Antigonus Mattathias, the son of Aristobulus II and the last of the Hasmonean kings, on the throne, taking the deposed high priest, Hyrcanus II, hostage to Babylonia (Josephus, Ant. 14.330–336; 15.14–15). The Parthian incursion into Judea did not last long, and Herod, supported by Rome, soon took power. Many Jews lived within the Parthian Empire, especially in Babylonia, and Josephus provides some information about these Jews and their interaction with the Parthians. Zamaris, for instance, fled from Babylonia with 500 horsemen under his command, all trained in the distinctive Parthian military skill of mounted archers. This unit was settled by Herod in Batanea (Josephus, Ant. 17.23– 31). The custodian of the tombs of the kings of “Media, Persia, and Parthia” was said to be a Jewish priest (Ant. 10.265). There are also more detailed accounts. One describes the conversion of the royal dynasty of Adiabene, a semi-independent kingdom lodged between Rome and the Parthians (Ant. 20.17–96). Another relates the exploits of Anilaeus and Asinaeus, two brothers from Babylonia who create a bandit kingdom, forging ties with the Parthian rulers and working together with them in their effort to control the region (Ant. 18.310–379; cf. Herman 2006). Both accounts offer detailed and vivid depictions of the political situation under the Parthians in the early 1st century ce. They are also of interest for the cultural image they depict. Both accounts are heavily imbued with Parthian cultural references, employing tropes familiar from the Parthian cultural milieu, including horse riding skills and customs. They therefore suggest a considerable degree of integration of the Babylonian Jews into this ambient Parthian society. The Parthians had a special place in Jewish eschatology, which wished for a Parthian defeat of Rome. This expectation is expressed, for instance, in a saying attributed to the 2nd-century ce R. Shimon b. Yohai: “If you have seen a Persian horse tied to the tombs of the Land of Israel, expect the feet of the King Messiah” (Lam. Rab. 1 [Buber ed. 77], Cant. Rab. 8:10). And yet hopes for Parthian assistance in defeating Rome during the Great Revolt were not realized (Josephus, J.W. 1.5, 2.380; 388–9; 6.343). There has been considerable speculation regarding religious contact between Jews and Parthians in the course of the Second Temple era. Religious parallels have been alleged between Jewish texts, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Zoroastrian texts (e.g. Widengren 1957; Shaked 1984). There is, however, no consensus regarding the extent of this phenomenon (Goodblatt 2012).

Bibliography D. Goodblatt, “The Jews of the Parthian Empire: What We Don’t Know,” in  Judaea-Palaestina, Babylon and Rome: Jews in Antiquity, ed. B. Isaac and Y. Shahar (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 263–78. G. Herman, “Iranian Epic Motifs in Josephus’ Antiquities, (XVIII, 314–370),” JJS 57.2 (2006): 245–68.

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Paul

S. Shaked, “Iranian Influence on Judaism: First Century B.C.E. to Second Century C.E.,” Cambridge History of Judaism, ed. W. D. Davies and L. Finkelstein, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 308–25. G. Widengren, “Quelques rapports entre Juifs et Iraniens à l’époque des Parthes,” in Volume du congress: Strasbourg, VTSup 4 (Leiden: Brill, 1957), 197–241. GEOFFREY HERMAN

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Herod the Great; Josephus, Writings of; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Revolt, First Jewish.

Paul Paul’s Jewish Background.  A portrait of Paul in relation to Judaism should address at least two problems: (1) the polemical contexts in which the apostle wrote explicitly about his prior activities as a Jew and (2) the question concerning which aspects of Jewish tradition Paul’s discourses reflect. Paul briefly recounts his former life in Judaism in two main passages (Gal 1:13–14; Phil 3:5–7; cf. also Rom 9:1–3; 11:1), in which he emphasizes his role as having been a persecutor of the church (cf. Sanders 2015: 13–82). Moreover, he found himself embroiled in polemics with a “circumcision party” (Gal 2:12) that was critical of his gospel to gentiles and advocated a rival mission that imposed circumcision and perhaps also dietary requirements on would-be gentile followers of Jesus. Yet in view of his identification with “my brothers, my compatriots by race” (Rom 9:3) and his belief in salvation for all Israel (Rom 11:26), it stands to reason that Paul’s polemic against other Jews had to do with his distinct approach to a Jewish way of life rather than expressing a rejection of Judaism per se. The question of which kind of Judaism Paul’s thought reflects has to be dealt with by matching his own statements with comparable traditions in Second Temple writings. Since Paul identifies himself as having been “as to the law a Pharisee” (Phil 3:5), the comparative texts traditionally considered in Pauline studies have been culled from Tannaitic literature (Sanders 1977: 33–238), which may indeed preserve a continuum of Pharisaic-rabbinic tradition. However, the early rabbinic texts are not necessarily direct sources for Pharisaic Judaism in the time of Paul (Fitzmyer 2000: 601). Other sources, such as Jewish Hellenistic literature, certain “apocrypha” and “pseudepigrapha,” and the Dead Sea Scrolls, which relate to the Second Temple period, are more pluriform and, as such, may to some extent have played a role in shaping Paul’s supposed Pharisaic education in Jerusalem (Hengel 1991: 40–53; Murphy-O’Connor 1996: 52–70; Schnelle 2014: 55). Paul the Apostle and Judaism.  As a man of two worlds, the former Pharisee and the apostle to the gentiles, Paul’s relation to Judaism may be characterized along several socio-geographical lines. Judaism in Israel. The early Jesus movement and the Jerusalem church with which Paul reached an initial agreement (Gal 1:18–2:10) were situated in Jewish milieus in Israel. The Dead Sea Scrolls uniquely reflect a Semitic world of thought in the late Second Temple period that may illuminate aspects of 1st-century Judaism in Israel at the time of Paul’s life and letters (cf. MurphyO’Connor and Charlesworth 1968; Fitzmyer 2000; Rey 2014). Paul’s letters contain Aramaic

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Paul

terms (μαράνα θά, marana tha; 1 Cor 16:22; αββα, abba; Rom 8:15; Gal 4:6), semitisms such as “sons of light” (1 Thess 5:5), and cultural concepts such as the notion of humanity as sinful flesh before God’s righteousness. When Paul writes that “no flesh will be justified before him (God)” by works of the Law (Rom 3:20), the apostle employs terms that may reflect interdiscursive connections with Second Temple Jewish tradition. For instance, the Scrolls include references to God’s dispute with all flesh (CD A i 2 // 4QDa 2 i 7–8, 4QDc 1 9–10) and the assertion that “G[od] will not justify any flesh” (4Q525 10 5). Jewish Hellenism. The Greek translation tradition to the Hebrew Bible underlies Paul’s use of Scripture in significant ways, even though Paul’s approximations and use of the Hebrew Bible itself cannot be excluded in individual cases (cf. Rom 12:19; 1 Cor 14:21). More generally, the Greek of Paul’s letters reflects the cultural situation of Greek as lingua franca in the Levant. Jewish Diaspora. Except for perhaps Philippi (cf. Acts 16:12–13), several congregations addressed by Paul’s letters were located in places that featured the presence of Jewish diaspora communities (Rome, Corinth, Thessalonica). Jewish Topics in Paul’s Theology.  Paul’s theology addresses Jewish topics in various ways, as illustrated by the following examples. The Law. It is a long-standing debate whether and how Paul’s depiction of the Torah relates to the complexities of Judaism at his time. Against a previous bias depicting Judaism as essentially legalistic, Sanders (1977) emphasized God’s mercy and election as the starting point for the covenant of the Law in the Judaism of Paul’s time. Yet more recent scholarship has problematized an overall pattern, observing more pluriformity (variegated nomism; Carson, O’Brien, and Seifrid 2001, 2004). In any case, the Scrolls provide an interdiscursive background for some of Paul’s technical terms, namely “works of the Law” (Dunn 1998: 354–65; cf. Rom 3:20, 28; Gal 2:16; 3:2, 5, 10; cf. 4QMMT in 4Q398 14–17 ii 3, 4Q399 1 i 11; 1QS vi 18). Covenant Theology. When Paul writes about plural covenants belonging to Israel (Rom 9:4), it is important to note that the concepts of covenant renewal and a “new covenant” were also known in the Hebrew Bible (Jer 31:31–34) and a number of Second Temple writings (1Q34+1Q34bis 3 ii 6; ‫ברית )ה(חדשה‬, berit ha-ḥādešah in 1QpHab ii 3; CD-A vi 19, viii 21; CD-B xix 33–34, xx 12). Worship. Israel’s worship of God (Rom 9:4) sets it apart in terms of cult. Jerusalem Templetheological notions in Paul’s letters, such as images of Temple service (1 Cor 9:13), Temple sacrifices (1 Cor 10:18), the community as temple (1 Cor 3:16–17; 6:16), the body as temple (1 Cor 6:19), the temple of God versus idols and food offered to idols (1 Cor 10:14–22; 2 Cor 6:16) all make best sense as paedeutically derived from Jewish traditions (Hogeterp 2006).

Bibliography D. A. Carson, P. T. O’Brien, and M. A. Seifrid, eds., Justification and Variegated Nomism, 2 vols., WUNT II/140 & 181 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck / Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001, 2004). J. D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (London: T&T Clark, 1998). J. Fitzmyer, “Paul and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years (2000), 599–621. M. Hengel, in collaboration with R. Deines, The Pre-Christian Paul (London: SCM / Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1991). A. L. A. Hogeterp, Paul and God’s Temple, BiTS 2 (Leuven: Peeters, 2006).

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Penitential Prayer

J. Murphy-O’Connor, Paul: A Critical Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996). J. Murphy-O’Connor and J. H. Charlesworth, eds., Paul and the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Crossroad, 1968). J.-S. Rey, ed., The Dead Sea Scrolls and Pauline Literature, STDJ 102 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). U. Schnelle, Paulus: Leben und Denken (2nd ed; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014). M. Wolter, Paul: An Outline of His Theology, trans. R. Brawley (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2015). ALBERT L. A. HOGETERP

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Covenantal Nomism; Faith and Faithfulness; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Jewish Christianity; Judaizing; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Pauline Letters; Pharisees; Repentance; Righteousness and Justice; Sectarianism.

Penitential Prayer “Penitential prayer is a direct address to God in which an individual, group, or an individual on behalf of a group confesses sins and petitions for forgiveness as an act of repentance” (Werline 2007: xv). Prayers from late Israelite and Second Temple Jewish literature often placed in this category include Ezra 9:5–15; Nehemiah 1:4–11; 9:6–37; Daniel 9:4–19; Baruch 1:15–3:8; Prayer of Azariah; Tobit 3:1–6; 3 Maccabees 2:1–20; “The Words of the Heavenly Lights” (4Q504). Though not a penitential prayer itself, 1 Kings 8:22–53 contains directions about penitential prayer. These prayers generally contain a confession of sin (e.g. 1 Kgs 8:47; Neh 1:6; Dan 9:5; Bar 2:12; Pr. Azar. 6; cf. 1QS i 24–25), a declaration that God is righteous in punishing the people (e.g. Ezr 9:15; Dan 9:7; Bar 1:15; 2:6; Tob 3:2; Pr. Azar. 4–5a; cf. Ps. Sol. 2:15), and a petitionary section that begins with “And now ….” In the literature, the prayers typically arise in moments of crisis, principally oppression by a foreign power. The petitioners understood their struggles as the activation of the covenant curses (cf. Deut 28; cf. Lev 26 and 1 Kgs 8). Thus, the prayers appear founded upon Deuteronomic ideology, in which God punishes sin and rewards righteousness. Apparently through an interpretation of Deuteronomy 4 and 30, some believed that penitential prayer could serve as part of the act of “turning” (‫שוב‬, shub) to God which Deuteronomy demanded. Analyses of prayer texts and their literary contexts reveal that a broad, lively stream of interpretation also accompanied and shaped the prayers. For example, the occasional appearance of ydh (‫ )ידה‬in a prayer or the context (e.g. 1 Kgs 8:33, 35; Ezra 10:1; Neh 1:6; 9:2, 3; Dan 9:4) when coupled with the word “shame” (‫אשם‬, ʾasham) points to the influence of priestly traditions. The two terms occur together in directions about the performance of the ʾasham (‫ )אשם‬offering (Lev 5:5; Num 5:7; cf. also Lev 16:21; 26:40). By connecting the use of drsh (‫ )דרש‬for “seeking” God in repentance with “seeking” in a text, some may have come to understand interpretation as part of the penitential act (cf. Deut 4:29; cf. Jer 29:13). As a ritual act, penitential prayers could serve several important roles, and during the Second Temple period these uses were expanded as well as adapted to the particular interests and agendas of the various groups that drew on the tradition. Perhaps most frequently, suppliants appear to enact the prayers according to Solomon’s directives in 1 Kings 8 as a turning point that would begin to undo the people’s difficult situation (e.g. Ezra 9; Neh 1; 3 Macc 2). However, debates over halakah mixed with political tensions between groups, especially dissatisfaction with those positioned closely to rulers, may have led some in Second Temple Judaism to abandon the idea that all the people would repent. Instead, some groups cast themselves as

589

People of the Land (ʿAm ha-ʾAreṣ)

penitential movements with key roles in eschatological schema (e.g. Jub. 1:7–18; 23:16–31; 1 En 90:6; 93:1–10 and 91:11–17; see CD A i–vi). Passages describing these groups seem to exhibit influences from traditions associated with penitential prayer texts. The penitential tones of the daily prayers in 4Q504 led those associated to the Qumran text through a weekly penitential cycle that culminated in preparation for the Sabbath. Penitential prayer also shaped the community’s annual covenant renewal ceremony (1QS i 16–ii 18). The close connection between penitential prayer and interpretation eventually gave rise to the notion that the prayers could lead to proper interpretation and other revelations (e.g. Dan 9; Sir 38:24, 34–39:11). The Prayer of Manasseh represents a penitential prayer that is not heavily influenced by Deuteronomic rhetoric. The author of that text supplies the prayer of the wicked, imprisoned king referred to in 2 Chronicles 33:12–13. Though the form of penitential prayers listed above does not occur in the New Testament, the language of a few passages seems to have been influenced by such traditions. For example, Paul’s arguments about God’s righteousness and human sinfulness in Romans 1–3 may have drawn on these traditions (cf. Rom 3:4–5). Moreover, the directions to confess one’s sin in 1 John 1:8–10 also ring with language from penitential prayer traditions that sometimes included a declaration of God’s righteousness. Facets of penitential prayer likewise appear in a confession of sin (Matt 6:12; Luke 11:4), which can be connected with a quest for healing (James 5:14–16; cf. Acts 8:22).

Bibliography R. A. Werline, “The Impact of Penitential Prayer Tradition on New Testament Theology,” Seeking the Favor of God (2008), 3:149–83. RODNEY A. WERLINE

Related entries: Deuteronomy, Book of; Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; James, Epistle of; Joseph, Prayer of; Nabonidus, Prayer of (4Q242); Pauline Letters; Righteousness and Justice.

People of the Land (ʿAm ha-ʾAreṣ) The title “People of the Land” (‫עם הארץ‬, ʿam ha-ʾareṣ) is a rabbinic designation for Jews who do not observe certain laws and thus are deemed untrustworthy. Consequently, the rabbis restrict social relations with this group, including commerce, hosting, and marriage. Rabbinic sources differ, however, with respect to the exact nature of this group’s deviation, the identity of groups that opposed them, and the extent of social restrictions. In the Hebrew Bible the term ʿam ha-ʾareṣ (sg.; pl.: ʿamme ha-ʾareṣ/ʿamme ha-ʾareṣot) may refer to the citizen body (2 Kgs 15:5) or to a distinct power elite (Jer 1:18). However, rabbinic usage derives from Ezra and Nehemiah, who advocated strict separation from the mixed population in Judea during the Persian period. Ezra prohibited intermarriage with the “People of the Land” despite their Israelite roots since they contaminated their lineage (“holy seed”; Ezra 9:2), comparing such an act to marriage with the Canaanite nations (Ezra 9–10; Neh 10:31). The title does not appear in Second Temple literature following Ezra and Nehemiah, and therefore it is questionable whether it denoted an identifiable social category (Oppenheimer 1977). Nor are there grounds for identifying “the People of the Land” as country people (Zeitlin 1932–1933). However, the separatist ideology and language following Ezra found broad support in sectarian circles (see 4QMMT C 4–10). Likewise, according to early rabbinic sources, the 590

Persecution, Religious

Pharisees separated from those they considered ʿam ha-ʾareṣ, due to their neglect of purity laws (m. Ḥag. 2:7; t. Shabbat 1:15). Although their level of impurity was lower than that of gentiles, their designation as ʿam ha-ʾareṣ resonates Ezra’s terminology, albeit in a restricted manner. Fragments of Second Temple law in rabbinic sources offer some insight into the restrictive social policy of the Pharisees (m. Demai 2:3; t. Demai 2:12; Furstenberg 2015). At the same time, these sources also promote cooperation with ʿam ha-ʾareṣ in the public sphere, specifically with regard to the purity of Jerusalem and the Jerusalem Temple (m. Ḥag. 3:4–7). Following the destruction of the Second Temple, the significance of purity gradually diminished, and by the mid-2nd century the separation from ʿam ha-ʾareṣ relaxed (m. Ṭohorot 7). At the same time, the rabbis employed the term in other spheres of observance pertinent to regulating social relations. It was then associated with those who were not careful to separate all tithes. The ḥaverim (associates) would not share in their meals or buy from ʿam ha-ʾareṣ unless they ensured separation of the required tithes. In other sources, ʿam ha-ʾareṣ came to denote the unlearned. The Babylonian Talmud expresses mutual enmity between the students of Torah and the unlearned, which may represent the study culture of the Babylonian rabbis (b. Pesaḥ. 49). Scholarship on the period has often applied the designation very widely and associated ʿam ha-ʾareṣ with “Common Judaism.” According to Morton Smith (1956: 67–81), the general Jewish population was disassociated from Pharisaic Judaism and is depicted in the image of ʿam ha-ʾareṣ. While Smith offers a hellenized image of this popular Judaism, Sanders (1994) describes its highly detailed commitment to the covenant and laws. Common Judaism formed a shared space within which both the Pharisees and Jesus sought influence. A parallel scholarly debate is concerned with the level of opposition between the rabbis and others they considered as ʿam ha-ʾareṣ, as well as with the possibility of alternative non-rabbinic forms of Judaism.

Bibliography Y. Furstenberg, “Outsider Impurity: Trajectories of Second Temple Separation Traditions in Tannaitic Literature,” in Tradition, Transmission, and Transformation from Second Temple Literature through Judaism and Christianity in Late Antiquity, ed. M. Kister, H. Newman, M. Segal, and R. Clements, STDJ 113 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 40–68. A. Oppenheimer, The Am Ha-Aretz, A Study in the Social History of the Jewish People in the HellenisticRoman Period, ALGHJ 8 (Leiden: Brill, 1977). M. Smith, “Palestinian Judaism in the First Century,” in Israel: Its Role in Civilization, ed. M. Davis (New York: Israel Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary, 1956), 67–81. S. Zeitlin, “The Am Haarez,” JQR 23 (1932–1933): 45–64. YAIR FURSTENBERG

Related entries: Ezra, Book of; Land, Concept of; Hellenism and Hellenization; Jesus of Nazareth; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Purification and Purity; Sages; Sectarianism.

Persecution, Religious Significance.  The experience of religious persecution and Jewish responses to it in literature have been a Leitmotif in Jewish tradition. Persecution reaches all the way back to the foundational account of the exodus from Egypt (Exod 1:11; 2:23; 6:6, 9), and also includes the time of the judges (Judg 2:18; 6:2), the Babylonian exile (Ezra 9:8; Lam 1:16), and the Seleucid persecution during the 2nd century bce (e.g. Dan 7:21). Many of the persecutions recorded or described both in 591

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books of the Hebrew Bible and in ancient Jewish literature fall chronologically within the Second Temple period. Even when the precise historicity of events is difficult to recover, the impact of literary accounts on Jewish historical memory has been profound. Literary accounts from the Second Temple period that addressed persecution deal with both near-contemporary events and events of the distant past. For accounts of persecution in Second Temple times, the exodus in particular remained a foundational lens through which to interpret and make sense for later experiences of trauma. Persecutors, therefore, could be compared with pharaoh (e.g. 1 Macc 4:9; 3 Macc 2:6; 11QM xi 9), while hope could be expressed in terms of God’s deliverance of Israel “out of the house of slavery” in Egypt (e.g. Jer 34:13; 4Q504 1–2.10). The trauma of persecution under Antiochus IV is also inextricable from the remembered trauma of defeat and exile at the hands of Nebuchadnezzar, and in this vein the author of 1 Maccabees draws religious meaning from the event in strikingly Deuteronomistic language (cf. 1 Macc 2:6–13). Tobit, composed in the early 2nd century bce, recalls details of the persecution in the 8th century bce by Sennacherib (Tob 1:18), and 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch as a whole seek to come to terms with the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce by adapting tradition related to the 6th-century bce destruction of the First Temple and the ensuing Babylonian exile. And, just as these later texts draw on earlier narratives in the Hebrew Bible, Second Temple accounts frequently draw on one other—consider the close connections between, e.g., Daniel, Esther, 2 Maccabees, and 3 Maccabees, ranging from shared motifs to verbal echoes. Remembered trauma, mediated through literary accounts, forms something closer to a web rather than a direct chronological line. History and Interpretation.  Given the significance of persecution as a theme in many Second Temple writings, the question arises concerning the extent to which accounts are, in the main, historically reliable and/or constructed. Despite the widespread accounts, concrete instances of persecution are surprisingly difficult to isolate. The only two events that are agreed to be historical—this is apart from the continued fierce debate about their precise nature, causes, and progression—are the persecution at Jerusalem under Antiochus IV (167 bce) and the riots (often, with some justice, called history’s first pogrom) in Alexandria under Roman rule (38 ce). A number of literary representations of persecution are hardly verifiable. Among them, the persecution aimed at Daniel at the court of Nebuchadnezzar are generally interpreted as court legends (e.g. Dan 2–3). The persecution, if ever there was one, that underlies the establishment of the festival of Purim and is recounted in the book of Esther cannot now be identified, nor can that which underlies the Alexandrian elephant festival mentioned by both the author of 3 Maccabees (ch. 5) and Josephus (Ag. Ap. 2.53–54). Indeed, no single instance of persecution can be identified with certainty either under Persian rule or at any time during the Ptolemaic reign over Egypt. The Book of Judith is a historical fable, in which the many obvious historical anachronisms—notably, this includes the fact that Nebuchadnezzar supposedly attacks Bethulia after the Jews have returned from exile and resettled in the land—have often been interpreted as an author’s intentional signal to have the text understood as a fiction or historical allegory. This certainly does not rule out the possibility that persecutions—e.g., local if not widespread—may have taken place that now cannot be identified. However, the combination of remembered historical trauma (the exodus, the Babylonian exile) with the shock of an event such as the persecution under Antiochus IV may help explain many of the literary accounts of persecution that survive. In addition to obvious cases of 592

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1 and 2 Maccabees, Daniel, 3 Maccabees, and Judith, all appear to have been influenced by and make some, even if cryptic, reference to the persecution under Antiochus. The two documented examples of persecution present problems for historical interpretation. The argument that Antiochus IV was attempting to impose an empire-wide policy of hellenization has lost ground; indeed, there is little evidence that Jews were targeted outside of Jerusalem, let alone any other of the Seleucid Empire’s many ethnic groups. Moreover, there continues to be little agreement on what Antiochus’ motivations and intentions actually were. Explanations have included a political crackdown triggered by civil strife (Tcherikover 1959: 175–203), a misguided attempt at cultural homogenization initiated by leaders among the Jerusalem elite (Bickerman 1979), or a show of political force designed to restore Antiochus’ standing in the eyes of the world after he was humiliated by the Romans at Eleusis (Gruen 1993). Regardless of Antiochus’ precise intentions, however, the actions recorded by 1 and 2 Maccabees—the abolition of Temple sacrifice, the outlawing of circumcision, the imposition of pagan sacrifice, the martyrdom of those who resisted—would certainly have been experienced by the community as religious persecution of the most severe kind. Judging from the echoes in contemporary literature, it sent shock waves through Jewish communities throughout the eastern Mediterranean and intensified fears that persecution could occur when it was least expected. The continued observation of what would become the festival of Hanukkah, actively promoted in Jewish communities throughout the Hellenistic world (e.g. 2 Macc 1:9), served to keep awareness of the danger of persecution alive, a phenomenon that can also be observed in the annual celebration of Passover, Purim, and, perhaps, also in the elephant festival in Alexandria (see above). The precise circumstances of the pogrom in Alexandria are likewise puzzling, but leave no doubt about the trauma inflicted upon the community (cf. Barclay 1999: 48–71). Some have interpreted the riots as the consequence of an empire-wide policy originating with Caligula and carried out by representatives of Roman imperial government. In this connection, it is uncertain whether in fact the riots ought to be connected with the separate and even more puzzling incident (if not another legend) of the abortive plan to set up Caligula’s statue in the Temple at Jerusalem. Others have interpreted the riots as a local phenomenon, driven primarily by friction between the Jewish and Greco-Egyptian elements of the population of Alexandria and compounded by the mismanagement of the Roman governor Flaccus. But, as in the case of the persecutions of Antiochus, the historical causes of the events were less significant for those who experienced them than the memory of murderous violence directed against Jews by neighbors with whom they had until recently coexisted on neutral if not friendly terms. This violence, if not actively directed by local and imperial authorities, was at the very least treated with indifferent contempt (cf. Philo, Leg. 361–368). The memory of this pogrom against the Jews would cast a long shadow.

Bibliography E. S. Gruen, “Hellenism and Persecution: Antiochus IV and the Jews,” in Hellenistic History and Culture, ed. P. Green (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 238–64. SARA RAUP JOHNSON

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Daniel, Book of; Deuteronomistic Theology; Esther, Book of; Festivals and Holy Days; Hellenism and Hellenization; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Maccabees, Third Book of; Tobit, Book of.

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Persian Period Two related dynasties (Teispid and Achaemenid), originating in southwestern Iran, controlled the entire ancient Near East from 550 bce to 330 bce. This was the largest and longest lasting of the Near Eastern Empires until the rise of Islam in late antiquity. The period of their control over the Levant, ca. 539–331 bce, is called the “Persian period” in Biblical Studies (and it overlaps with the “Late period” in Egyptology, the Classical period in Greece, and is sometimes called the Pax Persica). Once largely overlooked, scholars increasingly recognize that important developments in Second Temple Judaism happened in the Persian era. Thirteen Great Kings reigned over the empire, though only ten for significant lengths of time (Cyrus II [558–530 bce]; Cambyses II [530–522 bce]; Bardiya [522 bce]; Darius I [522– 486 bce]; Xerxes I [486–465 bce]; Artaxerxes I “Longimanus” [465–424 bce]; Xerxes II [424 bce]; Sogdianus [424 bce]; Darius II [423–404 bce]; Artaxerxes II “Memnon” [404–359 bce]; Artaxerxes III “Ochus” [359–338 bce]; Artaxerxes IV “Arses” [338–336 bce]; Darius III [336– 330 bce]). A Persian satrap, Bessus, murdered Darius III and briefly declared himself Artaxerxes (V). Below the Great Kings, the empire was ruled through a system traditionally called satrapies, after the viceroys who represented the kings throughout the empire (satraps, from xšaçapāvan, “protector of rule”). Below the satraps were a variety of local kings, tyrants, governors, and local officials that adapted native administrations for imperial ends. Judeans lived in several known regions. Archives from a military colony in Elephantine, Egypt (Rohrmoser 2014), and the cities and rural hinterlands of Babylonia (Pearce and Wunsch 2014; Bloch 2014) provide documentary evidence. Judeans in the Levant lived in several different provinces, including Yehud (Judah), Samerina (Samaria), Idumea, and (likely) Ammon. There were also likely Judeans living in Media and Elam, and possibly even in Persia itself. These centuries represent the longest period of relative stability Judah had yet known, and likely the last time most if not all Judeans lived within the same polity. The extant archaeology evinces a largely rural nature for Yehud and a more cosmopolitan one for Samerina (Levin 2012). Though Jerusalem remains sparsely attested, the discovery of administrative areas at Ramat Raḥel (Lipschits, Gadot, and Langgut 2012) and Mizpah (Zorn 1997) challenges a Jerusalem-centric narrative for the period. Attempts have been made to reconstruct the list of governors of Yehud, but since the evidence mostly consists of names from Ezra-Nehemiah and undated coins and bullae, the chronology is highly uncertain (Williamson 2004). Though often claimed, there are little external grounds for seeing the governorship giving way to the high priesthood while under Persian control (Rooke 2000). The provincial status should be seen in line with other marginal imperial areas (Fitzpatrick-McKinley 2015). The Temple in Jerusalem was rebuilt at least once within the Persian period, though archaeological evidence is lacking. In addition, temples on Mount Gerizim (Magen 2008), at Elephantine, and in Idumea were re/built or existed in the Persian period. The beginnings of many later religious practices also belong to this time frame (Albertz and Becking 2003). Similar variety can be seen in the socioeconomic statuses of Judeans, ranging from governors to slaves, entrepreneurs to mercenaries. A number of biblical books purport to derive from the Persian period. Haggai and Zechariah contain dates in the reign of Darius I. Ezra narrates a story from Cyrus to an Artaxerxes, and Nehemiah a mission in the reign of an Artaxerxes. Chronicles’ narrative continues up to Cyrus,

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but its genealogies extend well into the Persian period. Second Isaiah discusses the coming of Cyrus. In addition to these texts, however, many scholars see a variety of texts either as written or as edited in the Persian period, and Gerstenberger (2011) has dated practically the entire collection to the Persian period. The difficulty in separating and dating the various stages of growth in the corpus makes this a contentious issue. Some works from the later, Hellenistic period, such as Esther, Daniel, and several Dead Sea Scrolls, are also set in the Persian period and/or pick up on related themes. Having no single location or social status, one cannot expect a single implication of the Persian period for the Judeans. Variegated impact can be seen in terms of administrative locus (official positions and scribal education), broader cultural horizons, and literary impetus (whether identity construction or otherwise). The effects of earlier deportations and migrations continued in this period. Furthermore, it is reasonable to see the beginnings of influence on “religious” matters as beginning within the Persian period, rather than as products solely of the Hellenistic era. Viewing these developments in a hermeneutic framework is preferable to older attempts based on textual “borrowing” (Silverman 2012). This approach enables a more nuanced way of discussing the relevance of Persian religion(s) and changes in the understanding of YHWH.

Bibliography R. Albertz and B. Becking, eds., Yahwism after the Exile: Perspectives on Israelite Religion in the Persian Era, STR 5 (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 2003). Y. Bloch, “Judeans in Sippar and Susa during the First Century of the Babylonian Exile: Assimilation and Perseverance under Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid Rule,” JNEH 1.2 (2014): 119–72. A. Fitzpatrick-McKinley, Empire, Power and Indigenous Elites: A Case Study of the Nehemiah Memoir, JSJS 169 (Leiden: Brill, 2015). E. S. Gerstenberger, Israel in the Persian Period: The Fifth and Fourth Centuries B.C.E., trans. S. S. Schatzmann, BibEnc 8 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011). Y. Levin, “Judea, Samaria, and Idumea: Three Models of Ethnicity and Administration in the Persian Period,” in From Judah to Judaea: Socio-Economic Structures and Processes in the Persian Period, ed. J. Unsok Ro (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2012), 4–53. O. Lipschits, Y. Gadot, and D. Langgut, “The Riddle of Ramat Raḥel: The Archaeology of a Royal Persian Period Edifice,” Transeuphratène 41 (2012): 57–80. L. E. Pearce and C. Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer, CUSAS 28 (Bethesda: CDL Press, 2014). A. Rohrmoser, Götter, Tempel und Kult der Judäo-Aramäer von Elephantine: Archäologische und Schriftliche Zeugnisse aus dem perserzeitlichen Ägypten, AOAT 396 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2014). D. W. Rooke, Zadok’s Heirs: The Role and Development of the High Priesthood in Ancient Israel, OTM (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). J. M. Silverman, Persepolis and Jerusalem: Iranian Influence on the Apocalyptic Hermeneutic, LHBOTS 558 (London: T&T Clark, 2012). H. G. M. Williamson, “The Governors of Judah under the Persians,” in Studies in Persian Period History and Historiography, FAT 38 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 46–63. J. R. Zorn, “Mizpah: Newly Discovered Stratum Reveals Judah’s Other Capital,” BAR 23.5 (1997): 28–38, 66. JASON M. SILVERMAN

Related entries: Cyrus the Great; Daniel, Book of; Esther, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Historiography; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Nehemiah, Book of; Persian Religion.

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Persian Religion From the mid-19th century until the present, possible interactions between Iranian religion (Zoroastrianism) and Judaism resulting in borrowings one way or the other have been posited and often rejected, but are still being discussed. While Iranian elements in the Bible—such as loanwords and the Persian elements in Ezra and Nehmiah and Esther and Daniel—are mostly non-controversial, influence on Jewish religion is more problematic. However, the question of influence on other Second Temple Jewish writings is more problematic. In particular, debate centers on monotheism, angelology and demonology, the flood, the division of time into ages, eschatology, apocalyptic, and, with the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, dualism. Today, any consideration of potential relations between Judaism and Zoroastrianism must also account for significant advances in scholarship regarding the latter. Persian Religion. Chronology. The earliest documentation of Persian and Median presence in northwestern Iran is found in Assyrian annals from the 9th–8th centuries bce. From there the Achaemenids continued southeastward, and, in the late 6th–5th centuries, they were ensconced in southeastern Iran in Pārsa (Greek Persis). By ca. 515 bce, as the Temple was beginning to be rebuilt, the Persian Achaemenid dynasty, founded by Cyrus the Great in 550 bce and consolidated by Darius I (522–486 bce), was in power. The dynasty ruled over an area from Libya and Ethiopia to northeastern Central Asia and the Indus valley, including Mesopotamia and, in particular, Babylon with its community of exiled Jews. Achaemenids were succeeded by Alexander in 330 bce, followed by the Seleucids, who were replaced in ca. 247 bce by the Parthians (Arsacids), who ruled until the Sasanians came to power in 224 ce. The Avesta. Iranian tribes brought with them a large corpus of religious (Zoroastrian) oral literature, parts of which are enshrined in the Avesta, a collection of liturgical texts accompanying a variety of rituals. The texts reflect two linguistic stages: “Old Avestan” (2nd millennium bce; Skjærvø 2003–2004) and “Young Avestan” (early 1st millennium bce). Thus, the Avestan corpus antedates the earliest probable contacts between Iranians and Jews under the Achaemenids (Skjærvø 2007: 112–16). By the time this corpus reached Persia, the Avestan texts were probabably accompanied by an exegetical translation, which was what Darius’ (522–486) and Xerxes’ (486–465) “speech writers” drew upon. Written Sources (Skjærvø 2011: 2–7). Under Darius, a cuneiform script was invented for the purpose of recording the story of his accession, and an Aramaic version of this text was disseminated on papyrus throughout the realm (one copy among the Elephantine papyri, 5th century bce). But the religion practiced during the succeeding Seleucid and Parthian periods (3rd cent. bce–3rd cent. ce) is known from archaeological excavation, secondary sources, and only a few inscriptions. The next literate period to reflect Zoroastrianism is the 3rd century ce, when the Sasanian kings Shapur I (ca. 240–270/272 ce) and Narseh (293–302) and the high priest Kartīr/ Kerdīr left comprehensive inscriptions. The Avestan (Av.) corpus was finally written down, together with a Middle Persian (Pahlavi = Pahl.) version and exegesis (the zand) about the time of the Arab conquest (650). Beliefs and Practices. The characteristically dualist Iranian religion pervades the Avesta and Old Persian inscriptions. The primary deity was called Ahura Mazdā; the name originally meant “the omniscient lord,” but to the Achaemenids was just a proper name, OP Ahuramazdā,

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in Sasanian Middle Persian Ohrmazd. It was he who first “thought” (forth) the lights, which pervade the heavenly spaces, as well as the cosmic order (Av. asha). His opponent is called in Avesta Angra Mainyu, originally Ahra Manyu, which perhaps meant “the dark spirit.” He brought chaos and all kinds of evil. Darius’ enemies are described as a(h)rīka, i.e. as those who were presumably “siding with Ahra (Manyu).” In both the Avesta and the inscriptions, the principal agent of evil is called the cosmic deception (Av. druj, OP drauga), which deceives humankind (and Darius’ opponents) regarding the good order of the universe (and of Darius’ realm). In this dualistic worldview, according to the Avesta, all living beings participate in an ongoing cosmic battle in which good and evil alternatingly have the upper hand. Every living being must choose between the good and the evil creators. Those who choose Ahura Mazdā and offer him sacrifices (Av. yasna) are “Mazdayasnian”; those who do not are “sacrificers to demons” (Av. daēwa, OP daiva). Among Ahura Mazdā’s divine helpers is Avestan Sraosha (Pahl. Srōsh), who every night battles and defeats darkness in the form of the demon wrath (Av. Aēshma daēwa, Pahl. Eshm dēw), one of Ahrimen’s generals. His name may survive as Asmodaios in the book of Tobit (3:8, 17; Gray 1934) and as Ashmedai in the Talmud (b. Giṭ. 68a), the prince/king of demons defeated by Raphael (Sundermann, 2008: 155–60). Of great importance was the dāta vidaēwa, “the law for how to keep the demons away” (the Sasanian Videvdad or Vendidad [not: “law against the demons”]), which contains Ahura Mazdā’s instructions to the kings on how to deal with pollution (Skjærvø 2007). The Achaemenid king adhered to this law and, by his own law, maintained order in his dominion, striking down everything that threatened to bring back chaos. In this Ahuramazdā aided him in return for sacrifices. The daivas were emphatically not to receive sacrifices, and the kings proscribed their worship by the Elamites and others. Both the Avestan Yashts (hymns to individual deities) and the Videvdad contain fragments of cosmology and eschatology from what may have been an oral epic narrative of the history of the world. The Videvdad contains the story of Yima (later Jamshid), whom Ahura Mazdā appointed to rule the earth and during whose rule living beings were immortal. Overpopulation resulted, and Ahura Mazdā sent harsh winters causing a flood in the spring. To save humanity, Ahura Mazdā told Yima how to build a “bunker” (vara), into which he was to allow pairs of all living species. These do not emerge after the flood, however, but during the last millennia, when evil will decimate humanity, in order to repopulate the earth. The relationship between the story of Yima and the “Iranian flood story” (in Videvdad ch. 2) and the story of Noah has been discussed since the late 18th century, when the Avesta was made available to scholars. In the Sasanian “Pahlavi texts,” which contain the accumulated knowledge from the oral traditions of the preceding millennia but reached final redaction around the 9th century ce, the duration of the world was carved out of “eternal time” in such a way that the first trimillennium was devoted to the fashioning of the “other” world, i.e. “the world of the manyus” (Av. mainyawa, MP mēnōy; in Old Avestan, “the world of thought”); the second trimillennium involved the fashioning and nurturing of “this” world, i.e. “the world of living beings” (Av. gaēthiya, MP gētīy) or “the world with bones” in god’s womb. At the beginning of the third trimillennium, the evil one attacked, the world was “born” and set in motion, and the first two beings, the “first man” and the “bull created-alone” were killed by Ahrimen. From their semen, received by mother earth (Spandarmad), the first two

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humans were born and the first plants grew, respectively. By performing “next-of-kin marriage” (xwēdōdah), the two first humans became the progenitors of mankind. Toward the end of the third trimillennium, Zarathustra is born, whose conversation with Ohrmazd at age 30 marks the beginning of the last trimillennium and the return of the cosmos toward its original, unsullied state (Skjærvø 2011: 29–30). The Avestan Yashts foretell the birth of three eschatological sons of Zarathustra who will sacrifice and fight evil. At the end of the trimillennium, both the Yashts and the Sasanian texts state with more detail that the forces of good and evil will clash in fierce battles. The dead will be raised, and Zarathustra’s last son, Av. Saoshyans (Pahl. Sōshyans/Sōshāns), “the one who shall revitalize the whole world” (Yasht 13.29), will lead the battle against evil (Yasht 19.95). He is frequently referred to as Savior, but has little in common with the Jewish or Christian messiahs other than playing this eschatological role. The Pahlavi texts state that the dead will be summoned by another son of Zarathustra to an assembly in which the righteous will stand out among the wicked like white among black sheep. Finally, all humanity will pass through a river of molten metal and any lingering traces of wickedness will be burned. Zarathustra and the Sōshyans will perform the last sacrifice in this world and Ohrmazd and Srōsh the last in the other world, whereby the forces of evil, including death, will be overcome and banished from the good creation forever. Persian Religion and Judaism. The search for parallels between Zoroastrian and Jewish teachings began already in the 19th century, especially as concerned the world ages, the first man, the flood, and Noah’s sons (e.g. Spiegel 1863: 274–90). How to account for similarities could go in several directions: the antediluvian and flood account in Genesis influenced Iranian tradition (Kohut 1871: 59–61; Darmesteter 1893: 3.LVII–XLIII; Winternitz 1901: 328; cf. also Renan 1893: 156), while, on the other hand, Adam traditions in rabbinic literature may have been influenced by the Iranian story (Kohut 1871: 94). Recently, Silverman (2012) has revisited the flood myth, the question of Satan, and millenarianism, arguing that Persian religion influenced expressions of Second Temple apocalyptic traditions extant in Ezekiel, Zechariah, Daniel, and 1 Enoch. Similarly, a link in Ezra-Nehemiah between Old Persian and Avesta dāta (through Aram. ‫דת‬, dt) and the Torah of Moses has been proposed by Kiel (2017). The discovery of texts near Khirbet Qumran, in particular the Community Rule (1QS) and the War Scroll (1QM), has rekindled discussion on possible Zoroastrian influence (Winston 1966). In 1QS (iii 13–iv 26), the Two Spirits Treatise mentions the sons of light (cf. also 1QM) who, as the sons of righteousness, are ruled by the prince of lights while the sons of deceit are under the angel of darkness, with both created by God; such a tradition seemed to hail directly from Iran. Yet there are differences (de Jong 2010). The predeterminism of 1QS’s view of creation contrasts with that of the Zoroastrian account, according to which human fate follows from personal choices. Moreover, the Zoroastrian god created the (good) world so that its inhabitants would fight evil until the end of time, when evil will be overcome and the creation purified. This contrasts with 1QS, which gives no reason for the creation of two rulers. More extensively, Shaked (1984) stressed the methodological problems in arguing that innovations in Judaism during the Persian period—related to dualistic tendencies, angelology and demonology, predestination, eschatology, judgment, ordeal, resurrection, salvation, and the idea of a predetermined course of history— were rooted in Iranian beliefs; moreover, “borrowings” would naturally have been remolded 598

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according to Jewish ways of thought, and it might be difficult to identify the Iranian “originals” (cf. Shaked 1998; Smith 1989; Gerstenberger 2011, who focuses on monotheism). Although attempts have been made to derive the Jewish dualism from Persian “Zurvanism” (Michaud 1955; Winston 1966: 202), it is no longer thought that a “Zurvanite” heresy ever existed (Shaked 1984: 325). The comparison of Persian religion with Second Temple Jewish traditions is a work in progress. Scholars have yet to find an adequate methodology that can take into account the parallels while critically appraising possibilities of influence.

Bibliography E. S. Gerstenberger, “Zoroastrianism and the Bible: Monotheism by Coincidence?” Religion Compass 5 (April 2011): 104–13. L. H. Gray, “The Meaning of the Name Asmodaeus,” JRAS 1 (1934): 790–92. J. Darmesteter, Le Zend-Avesta, vol. 3 (Paris: Adrien- Maisonneuve, 1893). A. de Jong, “Iranian Connections in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” OHDSS (2010), 479–500. Y. Kiel, “Reinventing Mosaic Torah in Ezra-Nehemiah in Light of the Law (dāta-) of Ahura Mazdā and Zarathustra,” JBL 136 (2017): 323–45. A. Kohut, “Die talmudisch-midraschische Adamssage in ihrer Rückbeziehung auf die persische Yimaund Mashiasage,” ZDMG 25 (1871): 59–94. (Eng. translation Eva Kiesele, “The Talmudic- Midrashic Adam Myth in Its Relationship to the Persian Yima and Meshia Myth critically illuminated by Dr. Alexander Kohut,” in Classic Essays in Early Rabbinic Culture and History, ed. Christine Hayes [New York: Routledge Press, 2018] 505–40.) H. Michaud, “Un mythe zervaniste dans un des manuscrits de Qumran,” VT 5 (1955): 137–47. E. Renan, Histoire du peuple d’Israël IV (Paris: Calmann Levy, 1893). S. Shaked, “Iranian Influence on Judaism: First Century B.C.E. to Second Century C.E,” The Cambridge History of Judaism 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 308–25. S. Shaked, “Eschatology i. i. In Zoroastrianism and Zoroastrian Influence,” in Encyclopædia Iranica VIII/6, ed. E. Yarshater (London/New York: Routledge, 1998), 565–69. J. M. Silverman, Persepolis and Jerusalem: Iranian Influence on the Apocalyptic Hermeneutic, LHB/OTS 558 (London: T&T Clark International, 2012). P. O. Skjærvø, “The Antiquity of Old Avestan,” Nāme-ye Irān-e Bāstān. The International Journal of Ancient Iranian Studies 3/2 (2003–2004): 15–41. P. O. Skjærvø, “The Videvdad: Its Ritual-Mythical Significance,” in The Age of the Parthians, eds. Vesta Sarkhosh Curtis and Sarah Stewart, The Idea of Iran 2 (London: I.B.Tauris, 2007), 105–41. P. O. Skjærvø, The Spirit of Zoroastrianism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011). P. O. Skjærvø, “Achaemenid Religion,” Religion Compass 8 (2014): 175–78. M. Smith, “Bible ii. Persian Elements in the Bible,” in Encyclopædia Iranica IV/2 (London: Routledge, 1989), 200–03. F. Spiegel, Érân, das Land zwischen dem Indus und Tigris. Beiträge zur Kenntniss des Landes und seiner Geschichte (Berlin: Dümmler, 1863). W. Sundermann, “Zoroastrian motifs in non-Zoroastrian traditions 1,” JRAS 18 (2008): 155–65. D. Winston, “The Iranian Component in the Bible, Apocrypha, and Qumran: A Review of the Evidence,” History of Religions 5 (1966): 183–216. M. Winternitz, “Die Flutsagen des Alterthums und der Naturvölker,” Mitteilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 31 (1901): 305–33. PRODS OKTOR SKJAERVO

Related entries: Daniel, Book of; Esther, Book of; Ezra, Book of; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Nehemiah, Book of; Persian Period. 599

Persius

Persius Aulus Persius Flaccus (34–62 ce) was a Stoic poet of Etruscan origin who composed six Latin satires in hexameters preceded by a choliambic prologue. He was a disciple of the Stoic philosopher Lucius Annaeus Cornutus, who edited Persius’ satires after his premature death (Ramelli 2008: 1361–1515; Reckford 2009: 108–23). These satires are imbued with Stoic doctrines. Toward the end of Satire 5, which is devoted to the topic of true freedom (freedom from passions), Persius lampoons those who follow what he presents as Jewish superstitions: “Or when the days of Herod / The Jew are here, and the lamps, wreathed with violets, set / In the greasy window, vomit oily vapor, and the tunny fish / Tail swims, encircling the red bowl, when the white jug / Brims with wine, and you move your lips silently, grown pale / At the Sabbath of the circumcised? There are black ghouls; / Danger from eggs too cracked in the fire; the huge Galli, the Eunuch priests of Cybele; and the one-eyed priestess of Isis / With her sistrum …” (5.179–186, trans. A.S. Kline). Persius is listing among the examples of real slavery (i.e. moral slavery) various superstitions, among which he includes Judaism (and Etruscan haruspicy in Sat. 2.24–30; Ramelli 2016: 53–56). Among the manifestations of Judaism were the feasts for Herod’s birthday, celebrated with lamps and flower wreaths. The Jewish Sabbath was wellknown to the Romans, as was circumcision; the latter was often ridiculed and regarded as mutilation.

Bibliography I. Ramelli, Social Justice and the Legitimacy of Slavery (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). K. Reckford, Recognizing Persius (Princeton: Princeton University, 2009). ILARIA RAMELLI

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Herod the Great; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Pesharim The term “pesher” derives from a proto-Semitic root common to Akkadian, Aramaic, and Late Hebrew. It occurs once in Hebrew in the Hebrew Bible (Qoh 8:1) and frequently in Daniel in Aramaic. Its most frequent Hebrew occurrences are in the extra-biblical books: Ben Sira (38:14), the Qumran Scrolls, and rabbinic literature. In Qumran, it assumed special significance as the interpretation of prophetic texts (e.g. Isaiah, Hosea, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah) or those considered so (e.g. Moses’ words in the Torah, the Psalms). Herein, it developed into a genre devoted to decoding prophecy in light of the Qumran group’s own days or near future (Vermes 1969: 90–91). In this context, it represents a new divine revelation (Elliger 1953: 155–57), divulging the secret meaning of Scripture via a new divine disclosure to the priest to whom “God has revealed the word of His servants the prophets” (1QpHab vii 5)—customarily identified as the “Teacher of Righteousness.” As Habakkuk Pesher (1QpHab) repeatedly demonstrates, the pesher quotes a scriptural verse and then interprets it in light of contemporary events via the formula ‫( פשרו על‬pšrw ʿl, Figure 4.110) / ‫( פשרו הוא‬pšrw hwʾ, Figure 4.111). The pesher texts (pesharim) on Isaiah (4Q161–165),

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Figure 4.110  4Q169 (4QpNah) f3–4 ii.2 reading “the interpretation is” (‫[ פשרו הוא‬pšrw hwʾ].

Figure 4.111  4Q169 (4QpNah) f3–4 ii.4 reading “its interpretation concerns” (‫[ פשרו על‬pšrw ʿl].

Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi)

Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi)

Hosea (4Q166–167), Micah (4Q14), Nahum (4Q169), Zephaniah (1Q15, 4Q170), and Psalms (1Q16, 4Q171, 173) all form examples of a “continuous pesher” (Carmignac 1969–1971: 361) whose basic structure is that of a lemma (formal quotation) + pesher introduction formula + interpretation. By contrast, the “isolated pesher” (Dimant 1992: 244–45) treats specific biblical verses embedded in another literary genre—e.g. the pesher on Isaiah 40:3 in 1QS vii 14–15 and on Ezekiel 44:15 in CD A iii 21–iv 4. While employing the formula characteristic of continuous pesharim, some scholars argue that these do not belong to the pesher genre (Brooke 1994: 173). According to Carmignac (1969–1971: 361), pesharim do not have to be defined by explicit use of the word pesher. He classifies 11Q13 as a “thematic pesher”—i.e. a text that adduces verses from diverse prophecies linked together by a common topic without, in each instance, using the term. In the wake of this identification, 4Q174, 4Q177, 4Q180, 4Q480, and 4Q182 have also been assigned to this group. Berrin (2000: 646–47) argues that thematic pesharim exhibit the same formal structure as continuous pesharim. Lim (2002: 46–53) posits that only 11Q13 is a thematic pesher, while the other similar works are anthologies with comments possibly originally designed for private devotion. Others seek to “expand” the genre, stressing the system of exegesis over the use of formulae and syntactical features. Dimant (1992: 245–48) and Kister (1992: 38–39), e.g., identify “implicit pesharim” that, while lacking the genre’s formal elements, clearly allude to a prophetic passage, applying it to the sectarian community’s own days. The epithets given to groups or historical figures also fall into this category, terms such as the Teacher of Righteousness (Hos 10:12; Joel 2:32), the False Preacher (Mic 3:11), the “seekers of smooth things” (Isa 30:10), and the “builders of the wall” (Ezek 13:10). Noting the diversity within each subgroup, Bernstein (1994: 39–45, 69–70) argues that all the forms constitute literary variations on the same genre. Contra this approach, Horgan (2002), Lim (2002), and Campbell (2004) distinguish between continuous pesharim, on the one hand, and exegetical texts or commentaries, on the other. Many studies have compared pesher literature with other exegetical forms, such as the ancient Near Eastern dream-interpretation corpus, apocalyptic visions, Jewish exegesis, and rabbinic and New Testament midrash. The first is based on mantic procedures adopted from Egyptian and Mesopotamian royal schools and thus contrasts with Daniel’s decoding enabled by divine revelation (Horgan 1979: 237; Fishbane 1985: 455–56). Apocalyptic thought divides history into divinely predetermined periods whose end will come at the appointed time. Pesharim, by contrast, note the delay in the arrival of the redemption and attempt to strengthen the belief that it will come in line with the divine historical plan (cf. 1QpHab ii 5–7). Although the continuous

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pesher closely resembles the early biblical commentary form (Jassen 2012: 368–70), the pesher is governed by its own literary rules (Nitzan 1986: 39–40), interpreting prophecy in light of current or future events in the community’s life via a new divine revelation. Finally, while both pesher and midrash share the same mode of reworking biblical texts and the goal of interpreting and elucidating their deep, hidden meaning (Brownlee 1951: 74; Brooke 1979: 501–3), the latter’s principles have been passed down from generation to generation, seeking to disclose the meaning of sacred scripture for life (Fishbane 1988: 348).

Bibliography S. L. Berrin,”Pesharim,” EDSS,”Pesharim,” EDSS (2010), 2:644–47. G. J. Brooke, “Qumran Pesher: Towards the Redefinition of a Genre,” RevQ 10 (1979): 483–503. G. J. Brooke, “The Genre of 4Q252: From Poetry to Pesher,” DSD 1 (1994): 160–79. W. H. Brownlee, “Biblical Interpretation among the Sectaries of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Biblical Archaeologist 19 (1951): 54–76. J. G. Campbell, The Exegetical Texts, CQS 4 (London: T&T Clark, 2004). J. Carmignac, “Le document de Qumrân sur Melkisédeq,” RevQ 7 (1969–1971): 343–78. D. Dimant, “Pesharim, Qumran,” ABD (1992), 5:244–51. K. Elliger, Studien zum Habakuk Kommentar vom Toten Meer (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1953). M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985). M. Fishbane, “Use, Authority and Interpretation of Mikra at Qumran,” in Mikra: Text, Translation and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. M. J. Mulder (Assen/ Philadelphia: Van Gorcum/Fortress, 1988), 339–77. A. P. Jassen, “Pesharim and the Rise of Commentary in Early Jewish Interpretation,” DSD 19 (2012): 363–98. M. Kister, “Biblical Phrases and Hidden Biblical Interpretations and Pesharim,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Forty Years of Research, ed. D. Dimant and  U. Rappaport (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 27–39. G. Vermes, “The Qumran Interpretation of Scripture in its Historical Setting,” Annual of Leeds University Oriental Society 6 (1969): 85–97. LIORA GOLDMAN

Related entries: Apocalypse; Apocalypticism; Catenae A–B (4Q177, 4Q182); Daniel, Book of; Habakkuk, Book of; Habakkuk, Pesher of; Isaiah, Book of; Isaiah, Pesher of; Micah, Book of; Micah, Pesher of; Midrash; Nahum, Book of; Nahum, Pesher of; Pesher of the Periods (4Q180–181); Prophets, Texts Associated with; Psalms, Book of; Psalms, Pesher of.

Pharisees Introduction.  The Pharisees are one of the best-known Jewish groups from antiquity, not least because of their prominent place in the four New Testament Gospels. But despite the 99 occurrences of the word “Pharisee(s)” in the New Testament and the 44 in the writings of Josephus (in J.W., Ant., and Life, but not in Ag. Ap.), their historical development as a movement in the land of Israel and the contours of their distinctive teachings and traditions are intensely debated. Indeed, they are not expressly mentioned in Jewish or Greco-Roman sources outside the New Testament and Josephus. Thus, these limited sources have determined what can be said about the Pharisees. Yet scholarly discussion has questioned the accuracy and usefulness of these very sources to build a historical picture of them (e.g. Neusner 1979: 1–12; Neusner and Chilton 2007: 175–76, 205). Apart from them, only 2nd century ce and later Christian writings dependent on the New Testament mention the Pharisees. Rabbinic literature, beginning in the 3rd century 602

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CE occasionally refers to the Pharisees, so that previous scholarship has identified the pre-70 ce sages with them. However, an unqualified equation of pharisaic with rabbinic Judaism is no longer tenable, even if some form of continuation is undeniable (cf. Deines 1997: 538–50; Saldarini 2001: 199–211; Amos 2015: 134–59). Use of the Term.  The first extant occurrence of the word “Pharisee” is in Paul’s letter to the Philippians (3:5: Φαρισαῖος, Pharisaios) around 55 to 60 ce, from which the modern designation in all languages originates. Most likely, the name is derived from the Aramaic root prš (‫ )פרש‬that means “separated,” but whether this was a positive self-characterization (cf. 4QMMT 92–93—“We have segregated ourselves from the rest of the peop[le and we avoid] mingling in these affairs and associating with them”) or as a pejorative exonym is not clear. Most references are in the plural and represent the Pharisees as a “group” (Newman 2006: 5); in the Gospels their mention requires little introduction or explanation (though see Mark 7:3–4). The singular form, which is relatively rare, is mostly applied to specific individuals and, in turn, provides evidence for the Pharisees’ socioreligious world. Besides Paul (Phil 3:5; Acts 23:6; 26:5), New Testament writings mention Simon, who invited Jesus for a meal in his house (Luke 7:36–50); Nicodemus, “official among the Judeans” (John 3:1, cf. 7:48, 50) and “teacher of Israel” (John 3:10) who visited Jesus by night and became a secret follower (John 19:39); Gamaliel, Paul’s teacher, who was “respected by all the people” and like Nicodemus a member of the Sanhedrin (Acts 5:34; Acts 22:3: teacher of the “ancestral law”). Josephus links himself to the Pharisees (Life 12)—whether this is mainly out of political opportunism or based on conviction is debated—and adds further names to this list: John Hyrcanus (Ant. 12.289, 291) and Salome Alexandra (J.W. 1.108, 111) are closely connected with the Pharisees, the latter reintroducing the traditions championed by the Pharisees that her father-inlaw Hyrcanus had abolished at the end of his reign (Ant. 13.408). During the early years of Herod, a Pharisee named Pollion (whom some scholars associate with “Hillel” in rabbinic sources) and his disciple Sameas held influential positions in the Jerusalem Sanhedrin (Ant. 15.370). In the early 1st century ce, the Pharisee Saddok (most likely of priestly descent) stands together with Judas Galileus at the beginning of the “Fourth Philosophy” (Ant. 18.9–10), which “agrees in all other aspects with the opinions of the Pharisees, except that they have a passion for liberty that is almost unconquerable, since they are convinced that God alone is their leader and master” (Ant. 18.23). Early during the First Jewish Revolt against Rome, a number of other Pharisees are named who were active in the events. Among them was Simon, the son of Paul’s teacher Gamaliel, whom Josephus describes as “a native of Jerusalem, of a very illustrious family, and of the party (αἱρέσεως, haireseōs) of the Pharisees, who have the reputation of being unrivalled experts in their country’s laws” (Life 191; cf. J.W. 4.159–60; Life 21). These individuals were leaders among the populace. Their close connection to the scribal and political elites during the two centuries at the turn of the Common Era fits with other available information: Josephus first introduces the Pharisees (together with the Sadducees and Essenes) while recounting the time of the Hasmonean Jonathan (161–143 bce; Ant. 17.171–172), the first of the Hasmonean brothers to claim the high priesthood. Like Sadducees and Essenes, the Pharisees developed as a distinct group after the Maccabean revolt and alongside the Hasmonean rise to power (cf. Baumgarten 1997). As such, the origin of the Jewish parties reflected changes among Judean Jewry. Religion, societal order, and politics were no longer shaped by established Torah-based traditions but had been compromised by the Judean (including the high priestly) elite on account of their participation in Hellenistic culture. One result was that religious 603

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practice and commitment became a matter of choice on which way and to what extent to express the covenantal relationship with Israel’s God. This is highlighted by the most common Greek term used as designation for the Jewish parties or groups, hairesis (αἵρεσις), denoting “choice, inclination” (derived from αἱρέομαι, haireomai, “to choose”) and then also a “system of philosophic principles, or those who profess such principles, sect, school” (LSJ). Josephus uses it when introducing the parties for the first time (Ant. 13.171) and often thereafter, either for all three (later four) of them (J.W. 2.118–119; Life 10) or for the individual ones: for the Pharisees (J.W. 2.162; Ant. 17.288, 293; Life 12, 191, 197); for the Sadducees (Ant. 20.199); for the Essenes (J.W. 2.122.137.142). Moreover, the synonym prohairesis (προαίρεσις) is used in Jewish Antiquities 13.293 for the Pharisees and in 15.373 for the Essenes. The same use of hairesis occurs in Acts (5:17, Sadducees; 15:5 and 26:5, Pharisees), which also demonstrates that Jewish believers in Jesus were called the Nazorean hairesis (24:5; see also 24:14; 28:22). Josephus’ parallel use of philosophiai (φιλοσοφίαι) for these groups (Ant. 18.9, 11, 23; cf. the verb φιλοσοφέω, philosopheō in J.W. 2.119, 166; Ant. 18.11, 25; Life 12: comparing Pharisees to the Greek Stoic philosophical school) shows his understanding of them as religious schools of thought with different ways of life and ideas about human choice (cf. Life 10–12). Approach to the Torah.  The pharisaic “choice” is characterized by a specific understanding of the Torah, something already apparent in Philippians 3:5: Paul identifies himself as a Pharisee “with regard to the law.” This emphasis reflects the Pharisees’ wider aim that all Israel should keep Torah for the sake and benefit of the nation (Deines 1997: 500–9; Deines 2010). The crisis with Hellenistic culture in the 160s bce had taught them that God saved covenantally faithful Israel and will bless it further; therefore, Israel’s survival as God’s people depends on their knowing and keeping the law. To achieve this, the prescripts of the Torah should be taught and interpreted in order to become meaningful and manageable for all Israel, not just for priests or the male Jew. The emergence of synagogues in Israel and a new scribal movement are contemporaneous to the rise of the Pharisees; whether these developments were initiated by the Pharisees or only adapted by them for their own agenda is disputed (cf. Cohen 1999; Saldarini 2001). In any event, their popularity cannot be explained without their ability to appeal to the wider Jewish populace (Deines 2007). Some texts reflect this appeal through references to their “disciples” or “students” (Mark 2:18 par. Luke 5:33; Matt 16:12; 22:16; John 9:28; Ant. 13:289; 15:3). Their relationship with synagogues is underscored in Mark 12:38–39 (par. Luke 20:46) and Luke 11:43 (par. Matt 23:6–7), and it is in this setting that Paul the pharisaic student persecuted followers of Jesus (Acts 9:2; 22:19; 26:11). Moreover, they are associated in some traditions with “scribes” (Mark 2:16; 7:1, 5; t. Sanh. 2:6; m. Taʿan. on Deut 26:13). As all Israel was called to be holy (Lev 19:2; cf. also Exod 19:6), the Pharisees tried to influence every individual household across the land to the Temple in Jerusalem. The sources describe their handling of the Torah as more “meticulous” or “precise” (from the Gk. ἀκρίβεία, akribeia) than other Jewish groups, indicating their interest in clearly defined boundaries within which Jews should pursue their walk of life (halakah). Τhe typical question put to Jesus by the Pharisees in the Gospels—i.e. whether or to what extent something is to be allowed—further illuminates this aspect (Mark 2:24, 26 and pars.; Matt 12:10; e.g., Marshall 2015: 86–97). The Pharisees’ application of the Torah was guided by “the traditions of the elders” (Mark 7:3, 5 par. Matt 15:2), also called “the traditions of the fathers” (Josephus, Ant. 13.297, 408), which were regarded as authoritative and 604

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based on God’s revelation to Moses (Matt 23:2; Ant. 13.297), though the full development of the concept of a “dual (i.e. oral and written) Torah” came only later. Their non-written traditions developed as a matter of custom or routine or were newly established practices that the Pharisees regarded as integral to rightful covenantal behavior, even if this was contested by other Jewish groups. The Pharisees seem to have wanted all the people to contribute to Israel’s overall spiritual well-being; for this they were willing (according to their competitors) to “compromise” the biblical law so that it could be practiced by as many people as possible. Common infractions of purity (e.g. related to marital intercourse, menstruation, or childbirth) were regulated in a way to minimize their impact on daily routines and thus to allow for ongoing Torah observance. The more rigid Qumranites, who were more disconnected from social and familial obligations, disparagingly labeled the Pharisees “seekers after smooth things” (‫דורשי חלקות‬, dwršy ḥlqwt; CD A i 18–19; 1QHa ii 15, 32; iv 7–10; 4QpNah 3–4 i 2, 7; ii 2, 4; iii 3, 6–7), though some doubt the identification of this syntagm with the Pharisees (cf. Saldarini 2001: 279–80). This caricature replaced the Torah with ḥalaqot, which in Isaiah 30:10 is applied to “flatteries” or “pleasing lies” the people requested from the prophets instead of the truth (cf. Ps 12:3–4; Dan 11:32). The Qumranites thus accused the Pharisees of exchanging the Torah for their “flatteries” (1QHa iv 10) and, therefore, the proper halakot (ḥalaqot used as pun for halakot). This, in turn, was the main reason for the Pharisees’ popularity with the people, as described by Josephus (Ant. 13.288, 297, 399–404; 17.41; 18.15) and decried by the Qumranites (4QpNah 3–4 ii 8–10; iii 3–9) and the Gospels (Matt 23:2, 13). The religious issues of ordinary people for which the sources report pharisaic engagement included (1) matters of everyday purity (Mark 7:1–5 par. Matt 15:2; Matt 23:25–26 par. Luke 11:39; miqva’ot and stone vessels provide archaeological evidence for the importance of such concerns); (2) tithes (Luke 11:42 par. Matt 23:23; Luke 18:12); (3) fasting (Mark 2:18; Luke 18:12), as a penitential rite acknowledging the pharisaic concern for sin and forgiveness (cf. Pss. Sol. 3:7–8; Did. 8:1–2); and (4) Sabbath and festival observances and rituals (Mark 2:23–28 par.; 3:1–6 par.; Ant. 18.15). Further Beliefs. Regarding specific doctrines, Josephus and New Testament sources agree that the Jewish parties differed mainly in their teachings about afterlife (Josephus, J.W. 2.163; Ant. 18.14; Mark 12:18; Acts 23:6; cf. m. Sanh. 10.1–3) and fate (εἱμαρμένη, heimarmenē; cf. J.W. 2.162; Ant. 13.172; 18.13). Pharisees championed a cooperation of God’s providence and human free will, holding individuals responsible for their deeds without denying God’s direct involvement. They expected a bodily resurrection for the deceased with a related judgment (Stemberger 1995: 70–73). Their belief in angels (Acts 23:8) hints at apocalyptic elements in their worldview. Matthew 23:27–31 (par. Luke 11:44, 47–48) suggests that they regarded themselves as being in a trajectory from the biblical prophets. Their interest in the prophets’ tombs suggests efforts to create public visibility for the prophetic tradition in contrast to that of the priests. The early Jesus movement was close to Pharisaism in this respect. Conclusion.  Hardly any characteristics mentioned above can be exclusively assigned to the Pharisees, which fits to their profile as a group: they were not oriented primarily toward themselves (e.g. no membership regulations are attested for them as at Qumran or for the Essenes) but were interested rather in reaching out to other Jews and to being influential among them like yeast in 605

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dough (Mark 8:15 par.). Pharisaism can therefore be understood as a non-exclusive Jewish group whose adherents simply wanted to promulgate a covenantal-faithful Jewish life for the benefit of the nation (cf. Gal 1:13). Their hostility against Jesus is based on the threat he posed in their eyes to Israel’s beneficial relationship with God.

Bibliography R. Amos, Hypocrites or Heroes? The Paradoxical Portrayal of the Pharisees in the New Testament (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2015). A. I. Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era: An Interpretation, JSJSup 55 (Leiden: Brill, 1997). S. J. D. Cohen, “Were Pharisees and Rabbis the Leaders of Communal Prayer and Torah Study in Antiquity? The Evidence of the New Testament, Josephus, and the Early Church Fathers,” in Evolution of the Synagogue: Problems and Progress, ed. H. C. Kee and L. H. Cohick (Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1999), 89–105. R. Deines, Die Pharisäer: Ihr Verständnis im Spiegel der christlichen und jüdischen Forschung seit Wellhausen und Graetz, WUNT 101 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997). R. Deines, “Die Pharisäer und das Volk im Neuen Testament und bei Josephus,” in Josephus und das Neue Testament, eds. C. Böttrich and J. Herzer, WUNT 209 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 147–80. R. Deines, “The Social Profile of the Pharisees,” in The New Testament and Rabbinic Literature, ed. R. Bieringer, F. Garcia Martinez, D. Pollefeyt and P. J. Tomson, JSJSup 136 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 111–32. M. Marshall, The Portrayals of the Pharisees in the Gospels and Acts, FRLANT 254 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015). J. Neusner and B. D. Chilton, “Paul and Gamaliel,” in In Quest of the Historical Pharisees, ed. J. Neusner and B. D. Chilton (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2007), 175–223, 456–62. J. Neusner, From Politics to Piety. The Emergence of Pharisaic Judaism (New York: Ktav, 1979; repr. 1973). H. Newman, Proximity to Power and Jewish Sectarian Groups of the Ancient Period: A Review of Lifestyle, Values, and Halakhah in the Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and Qumran, BRLJ 25 (Leiden: Brill, 2006). A. J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society: A Sociological Approach, with foreword by J. C. VanderKam (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001; repr. 1988). G. Stemberger, Jewish Contemporaries of Jesus: Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). ROLAND DEINES

Related entries: High Priests; Holiness; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Mark, Gospel of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Miqva’ot; Pauline Letters; Priesthood; Purification and Purity; Scribes and Scribalism; Sectarianism; Stone Vessels.

Phinehas Phinehas, a son of Eleazar and a grandson of Aaron, is attested in the Hebrew Bible as a priestly leader (Exod 6:26; Num 25, 31; Judg 20:28; 1 Chr 5:30, 6:35; Ezra 7:5; and Ps 106). In the narrative of Numbers 25, when the Israelites’ idolatry (to Baal-Peor) and sexual immorality at Shittim prompt God’s anger, Phinehas sees an Israelite take a Midianite woman into his tent. Phinehas kills them by impaling them both with a spear. Phinehas’ act is considered a zealous action for God and as the atonement for the sin of the Israelites. Consequently, Phinehas and his descendants are given the covenant of a perpetual priesthood by God (‫ברית כהנת עולם‬, bryt khnt ʿwlm; Num 25:13). Phinehas is the only figure in the Hebrew Bible who is explicitly endowed 606

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with this priestly covenant. Phinehas also is reckoned as righteous because of his zealous act (Ps 106:28–31). In some Second Temple texts, Phinehas and his zeal motif seem to play a significant role, particularly in possible polemics among various priestly ideologies, due to the strong relationship between the zeal of Phinehas and his priestly covenant. Phinehas’ priestly tradition is used in 1 Maccabees and Ben Sira to support Mattathias (of the Hasmoneans) and Aaronide’s priestly status respectively (1 Macc 1–2; Sir 45:6–25; Chang 2016: 37–39, 76–78). First Esdras identifies the priestly group as the descendants of Phinehas son of Aaron (1 Esd 5:5; Spencer, 1992: 347). Aramaic Levi Document and Jubilees seem to employ Phinehas’ zeal motif in order to support Levi’s priestly appointment (ALD 1–2; Jub. 30–34; de Jonge and Tromp 1998: 216–17). Among pseudepigraphal texts, only in ALD and Jubilees is the zeal language related to Phinehas’ zeal and priestly appointment (Chang 2016: 86). Zadok’s priesthood is mentioned in the Dead Sea Scroll as belonging to the descendants of Phinehas and Aaron (4Q522 frag. 9, 2.6–7; Evans 2014: 83). Otherwise, Phinehas and his zeal are relatively absent from major Yaḥad documents, an omission which possibly reflects the anti-Hasmonean priestly propaganda of the Qumran community.

Bibliography D. Chang, Phinehas, the Sons of Zadok, and Melchizedek: Priestly Covenant in Late Second Temple Texts, LSTS 90 (London: T&T Clark, 2016). C. A. Evans, “Phinehan Zeal and Works of the Law,” in From Jesus to the Church: The First Christian Generation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2014), 78–93. J. R. Spencer, “Phinehas (person),” AYBD (1992), 5:346–47. DON (DONGSHIN) CHANG

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Jubilees, Book of; Maccabees, First Book of; Priesthood.

Phoenicia Phoenicia is the narrow coastal strip that lies between the Mediterranean and Mount Lebanon. Roughly 100 miles in length, the littoral and its offshore islands were home to a string of citystates that owed their existence to maritime trade. From north to south, the most important urban centers were Aradus, Tripolis, Byblos, Berytus, Sidon, Tyre, and Akko. Because of their geographical proximity and shared cultural-linguistic heritage, the Phoenicians enjoyed long-standing ties with the Land of Israel and its people. Political alliances between Tyre and the Israelite monarchies figure prominently in the biblical narrative (1 Kgs 5; 9:9–14, 26–28; 16:30–33), as does the Phoenician contribution to the construction of the Jerusalem Temple (1 Kgs 7; cf. Ezra 3:7; Neh 2:8). Both regions experienced subjugation by the great empires of the Near East and both had similar histories of resistance to those empires. The strategic importance of Phoenicia’s harbors was recognized by Alexander the Great, who brought them under control through his spectacular siege of Tyre in 332 bce (Arrian, 2.16–24). After Alexander’s death, Phoenicia became a bone of contention among his generals and their successors. Under the Ptolemies of Egypt, the southernmost port of Akko was renamed Ptolemais and became the administrative hub for the dynasty’s Levantine possessions, collectively dubbed “Syria and Phoenicia.” Ptolemais continued to enjoy this distinction following the province’s loss to the rival Seleucid dynasty of northern Syria in 200 bce (Polybius, 16.18.1–16.19.11). 607

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Evidence for interaction between Jews and Phoenicians becomes plentiful during the period of Seleucid rule (200–64 bce). Although high-level diplomacy between communities is not unknown (2 Macc 4:18–20), most encounters resulted from cohabitation of the same or adjacent regions. Sidonian enclaves (perhaps mercantile colonies) are known to have existed during the 2nd century bce at Yavneh on the Palestinian coast (SEG XLI.1556), Maresha in Idumea (OGIS 593) and Shechem in Samaria (Josephus, Ant. 12.257–264). Tyrian material culture in Upper Galilee and the vicinity of Mount Carmel likewise indicates sustained contact with zones of Jewish settlement (Herbert and Berlin 2003; cf. Josephus, J.W. 2.504; 3.35). The Antiochene persecution and the Maccabean Revolt that followed it engendered hostility between the people of Ptolemais and their Jewish neighbors (2 Macc 6:8–9; 1 Macc 5:14–23). Predatory expansion by the Hasmonean state reinforced these misgivings (1 Macc 11:59; Josephus, Ant. 13.324). Relations with Tyre seem to have been more positive, as evidenced by adoption of the Tyrian shekel as the monetary standard for the annual Jewish contribution for the upkeep of the Temple (Ben-David 1969). The anarchy that had plagued the Levant in the wake of the Seleucid empire’s collapse came to an abrupt end with the arrival of Roman forces in 64 bce. Like Judea, the Phoenician cities retained formal autonomy within the newly constituted province of Syria, but may have had to pay for the privilege. From at least 47 bce on, Judea’s own annual tributary obligations were delivered to their new overlords by way of Sidon (Josephus, Ant. 14.203). Political chaos returned to the Levant during the successive rounds of Rome’s Civil War. In 42 bce, the ruler of Tyre took advantage of a succession struggle within the Hasmonean house to seize portions of Galilee. The land grab was short-lived, however, being repulsed by Jewish forces and retroactively proscribed by the Hasmoneans’ Roman patron, Mark Antony (Josephus, Ant. 14.297–299, 306–322). The eclipse of the Hasmonean dynasty by Herod the Great in 37 bce ushered in a new era of engagement between Judea and Phoenicia. The Herodian dynasty supplied grain to the Phoenician coast during times of famine (Acts 12.20; cf. Josephus, Ant. 15.305–316) and architectural embellishments to its cities (Josephus, J.W. 1.422; Ant. 19.335–337; 20.211). In recognition for his loyalty to Rome, Herod’s great-grandson, Agrippa II, was granted domains in the vicinity of Mount Lebanon (Josephus, Ant. 19.275; J.W. 3.57; 7.97). The first evidence of Jews living in Phoenicia comes from the Herodian period (Philo, Legat. 281; Acts 11:19; 15:3). The First Judean Revolt (66–73 ce) interrupted this era of Jewish-Phoenician concord. The Tyrian frontier of Galilee became a site for violence perpetrated against both communities (Josephus, J.W. 2.458, 588, 625; Life 44, 372) while Jewish residents in Ptolemais and Tyre suffered extermination (Josephus, J.W. 2.477–479). Tragic though these breakdowns were, they proved to be aberrations. After the conclusion of the revolt, peaceful coexistence resumed.

Bibliography A. Ben-David, Jerusalem und Tyros: Ein Beitrag zur palästinensischen Münz- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte 126 a.c. –57 p.c. (Basel/Tübingen: Kyklos, 1969). A. M. Berlin, “From Monarchy to Markets: The Phoenicians in Hellenistic Palestine,” BASOR 306 (1997): 75–88. J. D. Grainger, Hellenistic Phoenicia (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991). R. S. Hanson, Tyrian Influence in the Upper Galilee (Cambridge: ASOR, 1980).

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S. C. Herbert and A. M. Berlin, “A New Administrative Center for Persian and Hellenistic Galilee: Preliminary Report of the University of Michigan/University of Minnesota Excavations at Kedesh,” BASOR 329 (2003): 13–59. CHRIS SEEMAN

Related entries: Alexander the Great; Coins; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herod the Great; Josephus, Writings of; Seleucids.

Phoenix The phoenix is a mythical bird distinguished by its cycle of regeneration after extended periods of time (varying from 500 to 12,994 years). In many forms of the myth, only one phoenix exists at a time, and it is often associated with the sun. The myth’s origin remains unclear, but it seems to have entered Judaism via Greek culture. It first appears in a Jewish work in Ezekiel the Tragedian’s Exogogue, 245–269 (2nd cent. bce), where a scout describes a phoenix in detail to Moses after going ahead to Elim in an elaboration of Exodus 15:27. This passage does not name the bird, but Pseudo-Eustathius, Commentarius in Hexaemeron (PG 18.729), identifies it as a phoenix. This is consistent with the bird’s appearance at the time of significant events in, e.g., Herodotus, Pliny the Elder, and Tacitus. Greek Job 29:18 renders Hebrew ḥôl, ordinarily meaning “sand” but used of the phoenix in rabbinic literature, as stelechos phoinikos. This may have resulted from interpreting ḥôl as “phoenix,” with stelechos added later. The only earlier preserved mentions of the phoenix in any literature are those in Hesiod, frag. 304; Herodotus, Historiae, 2.73 (which follows Hecataeus, Periegesis according to Porphyry in Eusebius, Praep. ev., 10.3.16); and Antiphanes, frag. 175. References to the phoenix become more frequent in Greco-Roman literature from around the turn of the era onward. It does not appear in other Jewish literature that can be conclusively dated to the Second Temple period, but it does appear in works that may preserve traditions from that time. In 3 Baruch 6–8, a phoenix accompanies the sun in the fifth heaven, absorbing its rays to protect people on earth. It eats manna and dew, and the excrement of the worm it produces is cinnamon. In both recensions of 2 Enoch, Enoch sees seven phoenixes in the sixth heaven (19:6), and in 12:1–2 of the long recension he sees phoenixes and khalkedras, twelve-winged creatures combining features of various animals, accompanying the sun. The heavenly location of the phoenix corresponds to its presence in Elysium in classical sources (e.g. Ovid, Am. II, 6, 49–54). Rabbinic literature also mentions the phoenix. Genesis Rabbah 19:5 says it did not eat the fruit from Eve and records a debate between R. Jannai and R. Judan b. Simon concerning the process of its millennial regeneration. B. Sanhedrin 108b places it on Noah’s ark, and R. b. b. Hana sees a phoenix in b. B. Batra 73b.

Bibliography J. Heath, “Ezekiel Tragicus and Hellenistic Visuality: The Phoenix at Elim,” JTS, n.s., 57 (2006): 23–41. M. R. Niehoff, “The Phoenix in Rabbinic Literature,” HTR 89 (1996): 245–65. R. van den Broek, The Myth of the Phoenix according to Classical and Early Christian Traditions, EPRO 24 (Leiden: Brill, 1972). KAI AKAGI

Related entries: Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Midrash; Sages; Sun and Moon; Talmud, Babylonian. 609

Phylacteries and Mezuzot

Phylacteries and Mezuzot Phylacteries (Heb. Tefillim; Aram. Tefillin) and mezuzot are excerpted Torah texts written on animal skin and placed within leather containers. Phylacteries were attached by leather thongs on the forehead and the hand. Mezuzot were attached to the gates and doorposts of homes. Practices related to the production and usage of such items become standardized in rabbinic times but discoveries from sites in the Judean desert show that variations were present during Second Temple times. The practice of wearing phylacteries was based on a literal interpretation of Exodus 13:9; 13:16; Deuteronomy 6:8 and 11:18, which indicate that certain texts should be viewed as “a sign on your hand and a reminder/emblem on your forehead.” In Deuteronomy 6:8 and 11:18 one finds the verb “bind” for attaching them on the hand and forehead. These texts are catechetical passages for teaching children. Three of them explain Passover, Mazzoth, and firstborn rituals. The first evidence of the literal understanding of these texts is found during the Second Temple period. Letter of Aristeas (159) and Philo, On the Special Laws 26:137–139, might refer to physical artifacts. First-century ce documents, Matthew 23:5 and Josephus (Ant. 4.213), refer to physical objects attached to the body. The earliest physical examples were found in the Judean desert. The oldest go back to Maccabean times and the most recent come from the Bar Kokhba period. Fragments of 26 texts identified as phylacteries were found at Qumran. One was found at Wadi Murabbaʿat and two were found at Naḥal Se’elim. Remains of leather cases which contained these texts were found in four caves at Qumran and Murabbaʿat and some were purchased from Bedouin. Leather thongs which might have been used to attach them to the body were found. Five phylactery cases were found with texts folded up inside them. Many texts had folds which indicate that they had been folded and placed in cases. The pericopes in the phylacteries found at Qumran were Exodus 12:43–13:16, Deuteronomy 5:1–6:9, 10:12–11:21, and sometimes Deuteronomy 32. The inclusion of the Decalogue (Deut 5:1–6:3) and Deuteronomy 32 are surprising since in rabbinic times, the prescribed texts were Exodus 13:1–10; 13:11–16; Deuteronomy 6:4–9 and 11:13–21 (Figure 4.112). Two types of leather containers were found. One type was used on the head (with one cell). Four texts were written on one slip for this type. Later rabbinic phylacteries have the four texts arranged canonically. In Qumran phylacteries there are three spaces separating each scriptural excerpt but the arrangement of texts varies. Another type was used for the hand (with three or

Figure 4.112  Phylactery (Tefillin) case from Qumran, Cave 4 (2nd–1st cent. bce).

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four cells). Four texts are written on separate slips for this type. When the slips are folded and placed in the cells, the compartment is stitched closed. Sometimes there are holes where leather thongs or strings could have been used to attach these to the body (see Milik 1977: 34–39). Physical features of phylacteries are different from those that characterize other biblical texts found in the Judean desert. These texts were written with very tiny letters, often on both sides of scraps of leather, and lack both spaces between words and dry lines for guiding the writing. Textual variations are consistent with other biblical texts found at Qumran. The phylacteries from Bar Kokhba times (Murabbaʿat and Naḥal Se’elim) are closer to the later Masoretic texts but do not follow all of the rabbinic prescriptions for such texts. Some scholars distinguish between phylacteries which fit a rabbinic (often called Pharisaic) type and those that are a non-rabbinic (often called Essenic) type. Differences are based on the texts included in the selection and order of excerpts, the scribal features of the texts, and the characteristics of the Biblical texts. The texts Deuteronomy 6:9 and 11:20, “to write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates,” could have been understood metaphorically, as may be suggested in Proverbs 3:2; 6:20–22. Presumably the practice of mezuzot was based on a literal interpretation of Deuteronomy 6:9 and 11:20 (Weinfeld 1991: 340–343, 448). The first archaeological evidence of mezuzot comes from Maccabean times. They probably originated in the Hellenistic period (see discussion in Cohn, Tangled up in Text, 55–102). In rabbinic times standard texts included Deuteronomy 6:4–9 and 11:13–21. Examples found at Qumran contain a variety of different Exodus (4Q149 Mez A Exod 20:7–12; 4Q154 Mez A Exod 13:1–4; 4Q155 Mez G Exod 13:11– 16) or Deuteronomy texts (8Q4 Mezuza Deut 10:12–11:1). The first mentions of placing mezuzot on door posts are found in the Letter of Aristeas 158 and Philo, On the Special Laws 26:142. Josephus (Ant. 4.213) refers to writing on doorways. Nine of the excerpted biblical texts mentioned above were found in the Judean wilderness (eight at Qumran and one from Murabbaʿat). Mezuzot texts have larger letters than phylacteries, making them more legible. The phylacteries and mezuzot served a variety of functions in Jewish life. The objects served as pneumonic devices reminding the wearers and passersby of God, for teaching children, and as practical demonstrations of faithfulness and obedience. These texts were used during practices of prayer. They were also thought to protect the wearers from evil and to bring blessings from God.

Bibliography Y. Cohn, Tangled up in Text: Tefillin and the Ancient World (Providence: Brown University, 2008). S. Reed, “Physical Features of Excerpted Torah Texts,” in Jewish and Christian Scripture as Artifact and Canon, ed. Craig Evans and Daniel Zacharias (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 82–104. E. Tov, “Appendix: “Phylacteries (Tefillin) and Mezuzot,” Revised Lists of the Texts from the Judaean Desert (Oxford: Clarendon, 2010), 131–32. M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11 (New York: Doubleday 1991). Y. Yadin, Tefillin from Qumran (XQPhyl 1–4) (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1969). STEPHEN ALAN REED

Related entries: Deuteronomy, Book of; Essenes; Exodus, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Magic Incantations and Bowls; Pentateuch; Pharisees; Philo of Alexandria.

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Pilgrimage

Pilgrimage Visiting holy places was common practice in ancient Israel. In the early times, Israelites traveled to Shiloh (1 Sam 1–3), and after the end of the United Kingdom they also went to Dan and Bethel (1 Kgs 12:27–30), to other holy sites (cf. 1 Kgs 19), and naturally to Jerusalem. Later, the Samaritans traveled to the Gerizim. Nevertheless, there exists no Hebrew expression for pilgrimage. Normally the term ‫( עלה‬ʿlh) “to go up to” is used. In the 10th century bce at least one visit per year, likely at Sukkot, was normal (1 Sam 1:21; 2:19; 20:6; cf. also KAI 26 A III 1f.). Later existed the idealistic (and for people living far away from Jerusalem, unrealistic) scenario of coming yearly to Jerusalem at three festivities: Pessach-Massot, Sukkot, and the Festival of Weeks (Exod 23:14–17; 34:18, 22–23; Lev 23:5–8, 15–22, 23–44; Deut 16:1–17). The concrete destination of the pilgrimage was contingent upon personal believing: the expression “to appear before the YHWH your God in the place which he shall choose” is generally not connected with a specific site (cf. also other Jewish temples outside of Jerusalem). During the Second Temple period pilgrimage obtained an important place in religious life because many Judean, Israelite, and Samaritan people lived in the diaspora, far away from Jerusalem and Gerizim. A similar pilgrimage movement is attested in texts from the late first millennium in Egypt. To complete a pilgrimage to Jerusalem at least once in one’s life was one of the most admired duties in religious life. While a trip to a local or central sanctuary was relatively easy in the preexilic period, in postexilic times, travel became a very costly, complex, and elaborate venture. Some biblical postexilic texts consider Jerusalem as a worldwide goal of pilgrimage, because the Jerusalem Temple was considered to be the home of YHWH (Isa 60:1–2; Zech 2:14–16) and the site of justice (Isa 2:2–4; Mic 4:1–3). These biblical ideas of worldwide pilgrimage were inspired by Achaemenid iconography. For instance, the pilgrimage of foreign people to Jerusalem in order to honor YHWH (Zeph 3:9) and to present their gifts (Isa 60:3, 6–9; Hag 2:7; Zeph 3:9; Zech 14:14) reminds one of the presentation of gifts by messengers from all territories of the Achaemenide kingdom, presented in Persepolis. The iconography also influenced the image of the conquered enemies of Judah, bound together, coming to YHWH (Isa 45:4–17; cf. the Persian iconographic parallel, featuring bound enemies in front of Darius I, in the Behistun inscription). Pilgrimage to Jerusalem is also understood as a repatriation of Judeans living in the diaspora (Isa 14:2; 49:22; 60:4, 9; 66:20; Zeph 3:20). This idealistic worldwide pilgrimage of foreign peoples (esp. at the main feasts in Jerusalem) was realized by the personal pilgrimage of Jewish people, as well as more and more proselytes, from all over the Mediterranean world, the Ancient Near East, and from several parts of Palestine. The enlargement of the Temple area under the high priest Simon (around 200 bce) and once again under Herod the Great (to 143,800 m2!) improved the infrastructure of the Temple area and are an expression of the success of pilgrimage activities in Jerusalem. Pilgrimage was common enough for cemeteries to be built in Jerusalem for pilgrims who died during their stay (cf. Matt 27:7); a tomb used by such foreigners was discovered in the Hinnom Valley. Only a few details are known from the real praxis of pilgrimage from the Second Temple period. Some can be reconstructed from the Mishnah, but the authenticity of those late remarks is hard to prove. Pilgrims from the Mediterranean world arrived in the harbor towns Joppe, Caesarea

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Maritima, or Acco/Ptolemais and continued their pilgrimage up to Jerusalem in groups. Some walked, but riding on horses or donkeys was the usual mode of transportation. The daily distance was about 30 km. Priests may have accompanied travelers on their way. Pilgrims from relatively nearby (e.g. Galilee) often traveled in larger groups (cf. Luke 2:44). Likely the “songs of ascents” (Pss 120–134) were a collection of psalms to be sung by devotees on their way up to Jerusalem. When they arrived in Jerusalem, the citizens of the Holy City greeted the newcomers with songs and blessings (cf. Mark 11:9). Some pilgrims slept in hospices belonging to the synagogues, but most of them likely lodged in private families. Normally the accommodation was free of cost. Despite free housing, pilgrimage played an important role for the income of the Holy City (alimentation, souvenirs, sacrifices, donations). During the feasts the area of the city was even enlarged, because in Jerusalem itself the capacities were limited. After arrival the pilgrims had to ritually purify themselves, mainly in miqva’ot, public bathrooms, and pools; this could take up to seven days. The main purpose of the travel was to visit the Temple and perform a sacrifice. Dealers changed the foreign money in the outer courtyard of the Temple into Phoenician shekels, the only currency accepted in the Temple, and sold animals for the sacrifice (cf. Mark 11:11, 15–17); only Jewish people from the neighborhood brought their own animals to the Temple. Thousands of animals were sacrificed during the feasts (Let. Aris. 88–89). The pilgrims normally stayed for the whole feast in Jerusalem and left the city after its end.

Bibliography L. D. Crow, The Songs of Ascents (Ps 120–134): Their Place in Israelite History and Religion, SBLDS 148 (Atlanta: SBL, 1996). C. Körting, Der Schall des Schofar. Israels Feste im Herbst, BZAW 285 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1999). S. Safrai, Die Wallfahrt im Zeitalter des Zweiten Tempels, FJCD 3 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1981). WOLFGANG ZWICKEL

Related entries: Coins; Festivals and Holy Days; Gerezim, Mount.

Pliny the Elder The 1st century-ce Roman Latin author Gaius Plinius Secundus is called “the Elder” to distinguish him from his nephew (who became his adopted son) “Pliny the Younger,” who also wrote surviving works (esp. letters), some of which include information about his uncle. The elder Pliny was an accomplished Roman military and administrative figure and lawyer who wrote extensively, although only his multivolume Natural History (Naturalis historia) has survived. He died tragically in his mid-50s on August 25th of the year 79 during the eruption of Vesuvius while attempting to rescue relatives and friends from the shores near Herculaneum (in modern Naples) and Pompeii, both of which were destroyed by the eruption. His nephew, Pliny the Younger, provides a graphic account of the situation in a letter to the historian Tacitus (Mynors 1963: VI.16). The elder Pliny was born into the equestrian stratum of Roman life (just below the senatorial rank), probably in the Lake Como area in northern Italy. In addition to the Natural History, Pliny the Elder is reported to have written a number of works that have not survived: a treatment of equestrian warfare, De jaculatione equestri (on missiles employed on/from horseback); a biography of his old military commander and friend, 613

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Pomponius Secundus (in two books); a multivolume educational manual on rhetoric, entitled Studiosus, “The Student”; eight books on Dubii sermonis, “Of Doubtful Phraseology”; and a History of the German Wars (20 vols.). Pliny was a voracious reader and excerpter, as his nephew attests. The Natural History is an encyclopedic work including information gathered partly through this excerpting research method organized into 36 main “books” on specific topic areas (e.g. trees, rocks, geography, etc.), each with various subtopics, plus an introductory (contents) volume, and includes lists of works (Latin and “Other”) consulted for each of the main books—a treasure-trove of detail and names of authors of mostly lost literature. This work was immensely popular in subsequent generations and survives in numerous manuscript copies and adaptations. Pliny the Elder is significant for Jewish studies mainly for his brief (and cryptic) treatment of the “Essenes” (Nat. 5.73), although it is not clear whether he thought them to be Jewish. Otherwise, his surviving references to Jews and Judaism (Stern 1974) mainly reflect Roman interest in the industries of balsam perfume and a fish-based sauce called garum, Pliny’s disdain for “magic,” and the contempt of Roman gods by the “Judean race.” The fact that Pliny lists the writings he has consulted for his Natural History also provides a window into how such information circulated in the middle of the 1st century ce in Latin and Greek literate circles: Pliny does not list Nicolaus of Damascus (a major Greek source for Josephus) or any other primary tradent of “Jewish” information known to us except Alexander Polyhistor and Poseidonius, although the lost Greek writings of “King Juba” (mentioned frequently by Pliny) are a possible source for some details since Juba had been married to the widow of Alexander, son of Herod the Great, and also had other close ties with the eastern Mediterranean world. On the Latin side, some of what Pliny presents is similar to the Korographia of Pomponius Mela, whom Pliny also lists in his bibliography and may even have known in person. Further close attention to Pliny’s listed sources might be rewarding.

Bibliography R. A. B. Mynors, C. Plini Caecili Secundi, Epistularum, 10 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963). H. Rackham, Pliny. Natural History. With an English translation in Ten Volumes, LCL 352 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1942). R. Kraft, “Pliny on Essenes, Pliny on Jews,” DSD 8 (2001): 255–61. ROBERT KRAFT

Related entries: Agriculture; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Plutarch Plutarch (ca. 45–120 ce; born in Chaeronea in Boetia) was a priest of Apollo at Delphi and the most important exponent of Platonic religious philosophy in Early Imperial times. His writings are also a valuable source for a pagan religious view of ancient Judaism (as well as for other ancient religious traditions). Widely traveled, Plutarch treated Jewish laws and customs in several of his so-called Moralia. He devoted two of his dialogical Table Talks to Jewish traditions (“Why the Jews refrain from eating pork” [out of reverence or out of contempt?], and “Who is the God of the Jews?”; Quaest. conv. IV 5–6, 669B–672C; cf. Feldman 1996: 529–52; Stern 1976: 550–62), as well as a passage in his philosophical explanation of Egyptian religion (Is. 614

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Os. 363CD). In his discussions of Judaism, Plutarch is neither especially hostile nor particularly friendly (cf. Brenk, 1997: 100). His most critical remarks are to be found in On harmful fear of the divine (De superstitione). Here Plutarch uses the example of a military attack on the Sabbath to illustrate the (politically) detrimental effect of what he regards as an exaggerated observance of religious laws. He points to the Jewish concept of the divine in the context of critical remarks about a harmful fear of god also in De Stoicorum repugnantiis 1051E. While it was long thought that Plutarch’s discussions are of little historical value, it has become increasingly clear that in fact he was reasonably well-informed (Feldman 1996: 530–31). Plutarch gives rather detailed information about a number of aspects of Jewish ritual (dietary laws concerning eating pigs, the garment of the high priest [672A], the feast of tabernacles [671D], Sabbath observance in times of war [Superst. 166A; 169C], wine on the Sabbath [672A], Levites [671E], the prohibition of eating honey at the sacrifice [672B; cf. Lev. 2:11]); and mentions “Adonaios” as the name of God [Amat. 756C]). He transmits several details which are not found in any other pagan writer (Feldman 1996). The quality of this information, however, renders first-hand knowledge rather unlikely. In addition, Plutarch subjects Judaism, like all foreign religious traditions he treats, to a harmonizing interpretatio Graeca, portraying it as a barbaric form of the cult of Dionysos (cf. Feldman 1996: 543, 546). The dionysiac Sabboi are connected with the Sabbath by way of an etymologizing interpretation, Adonis with Adonai, and the Levits with Λύσιος (Lysios) and Εὔιος (Euios), two of the names of Zeus (Quaest. conv. IV,5/6,671C/F). A likely source of Plutarch’s knowledge is the History of Egypt by Hecataeus of Abdera (Geiger 2010: 211–19). It is less likely that he had read Jewish authors directly; Gerber’s hypothesis (1991: 157–61) that Plutarch may have read Josephus is rejected by Pelling (2011: 142). Plutarch’s knowledge may also have stemmed from his acquaintance with Egyptian priests in Alexandria; though Plutarch’s claim to have traveled to Egypt is sometimes questioned. Several times Jewish traditions are discussed alongside Egyptian ones. This encounter could be one explanation for the strange fact that a writer as broadly interested and well-read in all sorts of religious traditions should never have come across the Septuagint; unlike authors like Numenios he never mentions the figure of Moses. If such a claim were false, it might explain the strange fact that a writer as broadly interested and well-read in all sorts of religious traditions should never have come across the Septuagint; unlike authors like Numenios he never mentions the figure of Moses. There are, however, some striking overlaps in Plutarch’s view of God with Jewish and Christian ideas, and these commonalities still call for a historical explanation (Brenk 1997: 97–117; 2007: 100–20).

Bibliography F. E. Brenk, “Plutarch, Judaism and Christianity,” Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition. Essays Presented to J. Whittaker, ed. M. Joyal (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 97–117. F. E. Brenk, “With Unperfumed Voice. Studies in Plutarch,” in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background, PAB 21 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2007), 100–20. L. H. Feldman, “The Jews as Viewed by Plutarch,” Studies on Hellenistic Judaism, AGAJU 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 529–52. J. Geiger, “Plutarch, Dionysus, and the God of the Jews Revisited,” Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths and History of Religions in Plutarch’s Works, ed. L. Van der Stockt et al. Studies Devoted to Professor Frederick E. Brenk by the International Plutarch Society (Logan/Málaga: Utah State University, 2010), 211–19, 217–19. 615

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F. Gerber, “P. Caes. 3,1. Eine Korrektur des Flavius Iosephus,” RhMus 134 (1991): 157–61. C. Pelling, Plutarch. Caesar (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). RAINER HIRSCH-LUIPOLD

Related entries: Diet in Palestine; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Philosophy; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings.

Polybius One of the “greatest” historians of antiquity, Polybius of Megalopolis chronicled in 40 volumes the meteoric rise, in 53 short years, of Rome’s domination of the world (220–167 bce). Unfortunately, only Books 1–5 of these Histories survive whole, though over 230 fragments from all but two of the remaining volumes are extant in a variety of ancient sources (Marincola 2001: 116–24), among them Josephus. Already at a young age Polybius was enmeshed in the affairs of the revived Achaean League and eventually became second in command as the cavalry commander in 170/69 bce. His eyewitness involvement in the vicissitudes of growing Roman power (including over his own people), his participation in the intrigues of Roman political life, and his later on-site investigation of battlegrounds and available sources of information (esp. Book 12) functioned not only to undergird his claims to reliability but also to legitimate the lessons he drew from historia to emulate or eschew (Marincola 2001: 124–40). Thus Polybius intended that his audience (“men of affairs”) would gain a moral education in order to negotiate the interactions of Fortune (τύχη, tuchē) with all humankind (e.g. 1.1.2; 2.37.3; 4.28.3–4, 4.40.1; 29.22.2; Walbank, 2007: 349–55). Polybius’ distinctive contribution, however, is his reconfiguring of a “ring composition” by “interweaving” actions (συμπλοκή, symplokē) in different parts of the world to mimic Fortune’s steering of Rome in uniting the world as never before. He has his audience experience a nexus of events in one theatre followed by a “simultaneous” series from another region, and so on, through the repeated sequence of eight theatres (Italy→ Sicily→ Spain→ Africa→ Greece→ Macedonia→ Asia→ Egypt) for each four-year Olympiad, beginning with the 140th (220–217 bce). Such careful “arrangement,” which changed the way historians organized their histories, serviced Polybius’ view that 217 bce had brought something entirely unprecedented in human history, namely that for the first time the whole world was beginning to coalesce as “one” through the unparalleled “grasp and grip” of Roman Empire (1.4.2; Pelling 2007: 246–49; Moessner 2006: 129–40). Polybius’ primary significance for Second Temple Judaism rests in his apparent influence on the writings of Josephus, who wrote during the last third of the 1st century ce (Eckstein 1990). Josephus explicitly refers to Polybius’ Histories work three times. In Jewish Antiquities 12.135–144 Josephus quotes Book 16, which preserves Antiochus III’s formal gratitude for his reception among the Jews when he came to Jerusalem after his victory at the Battle of Panium over Scopas (196 bce). Soon thereafter (Ant. 12.358–359), Josephus, though praising Polybius as a “good man,” criticizes Polybius’ explanation for the death of Antiochus IV. Whereas Polybius attributes Antiochus’ death to his wrongful intention “to plunder the temple of Diana in Persia,” Josephus argues that he was probably being punished for having plundered the Temple in Jerusalem. The third reference in Josephus (Ag. Ap. 2.84) again concerns Antiochus IV. Here Polybius and several other historiographers are cited for the view that Antiochus’ tensions with 616

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the Jews were the result of his desire for money, which had led to his plundering of the Temple treasury. Beyond this explicit use, Polybius’ description of historiographical method may have influenced the way Josephus understood his task, especially the Greek historian’s emphasis on the importance of an author’s direct involvement (αὐτουργία, autourgia) in the events narrated (Hist. 3.14.3; 12.24.6, 28.2–6, 28a.7–10). These are much the same qualities to which Josephus refers as he insists upon the particular value of his own accounts (esp. Ag. Ap. 1.45–46, 53–54, 55—being “himself a participant in the events” [αὐτουργὸς πράχεων, autourgos praxeōn]; J.W. 1.1–4; Eckstein 1990: 180–81). More generally, Polybius’ outlook can be compared to Jewish and Jewish-Christian notions of divine providential steering of events, as he presents a quasi-theological view of history’s purpose or overall telos (Eckstein 1990: 202; Moessner 2016: 142–53). Yet compared to a Philo or Josephus, or to Paul and Luke of the New Testament, Polybius is reticent to ascribe outcomes in history to Tuchē’s manipulations, though he will sometimes ascribe defeats and tragedies to its retributive justice (e.g. 1.86.7; 15.20.5, 7; 29.27.12; 38.21.3). On the whole, for Polybius, Tuchē remains inscrutable, only vaguely associated with human endeavor (36.17.2–4)—except with “her” all-embracing maneuverings to make Rome the master of the world (4.2.4).

Bibliography A. M. Eckstein, “Josephus and Polybius: A Reconsideration,” ClAnt 9 (1990): 175–208. J. Marincola, “Polybius,” in Greek Historians, ed. J. Marincola, NSC 31 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 113–49. D. P. Moessner, “‘Listening Posts’ along the Way: Synchronisms as Metaleptic Prompts to the ‘Continuity of the Narrative’ in Polybius’ Histories and in Luke’s Gospel–Acts,” in The New Testament and Early Christian Literature in Greco-Roman Context: Studies in Honor of David E. Aune, ed. J. Fotopoulos, NovTSup 122 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 129–50. D. P. Moessner, Luke the Historian of Israel’s Legacy, Theologian of Israel’s ‘Christ (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016). C. Pelling, “The Greek Historians of Rome,” CGRH (2007), 1.244–58. F. W. Walbank, “Fortune (tychē) in Polybius,” CGRH (2007), 2.349–55. F. W. Walbank, Polybius, Rome and the Hellenistic World: Essays and Reflections (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). DAVID P. MOESSNER

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jewish and Judaism; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Historiography; Josephus, Writings of; Seleucids.

Pompeius Trogus Pompeius Trogus was a Roman historian who originally came from Narbonese Gaul, and who was a rough contemporary of Caesar Augustus (r. 27 bce–14 ce). His main work, the Philippic Histories, which dealt with the Macedonian empire founded by Philip II and, more generally, with the Hellenistic kingdoms born out of Alexander the Great’s conquests, is now lost, and known only indirectly via the epitome of a later historian called Justin. In connection with his account of the reign of Antiochus VII Sidetes, Trogus deals with the origin of the Jews, provides a geographical description of Judea and presents a historical account of Jewish history since the 617

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Persian period (Justin, Epitome 36.1.9–3.9). He knows the story describing the Jews as lepers from Egypt, but his account is not hostile—Jews are in fact pious and just. He locates the origin of the Jews in Damascus, where Abraham and Israel are said to have been kings. In the historical part he alludes to the alliance between the Judeans and the Romans during the reign of Demetrius I, but later he describes the Hasmoneans as brigands, a perception that was common in GrecoRoman texts from the end of the 1st century bce (Stern 1974: 1.332–43).

Bibliography See General Bibliography KATELL BERTHELOT

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Hellenism and Hellenization; Historiography; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Posidonius of Apamea Posidonius was born in Apamea, Syria, between 159 and 143 bce, and died between 145 and 129 bce (Bar-Kochva 2010: 340); he taught in Rhodes. Only fragments of his works remain (Bar-Kochva 2010: 348–53; Balch 2015: 54). Posidonius is the source of the Jewish ethnography in Strabo, Geographica 16.35–37, which idealizes Mosaic Judaism but critiques “tyrannical” and “superstitious” Second Temple Judaism. Posidonius reworked Hecataeus of Abdera (Diod. 40.3.1–8), describing the “state of the wise” (Seneca, Ep. 90.5–6) exemplified by Mosaic society, which possessed no laws or army, was governed by the assent of its citizens, and welcomed likeminded neighbors (Cicero, Off. 1; Bar-Kochva 2010: 357–77). Posidonius wrote “history” as a Stoic philosopher; he admired Mosaic non-anthropomorphic monotheism without images or temple (Cicero, Div. 3; Bar-Kochva 2010: 365–97). Strabo added an appendix (16.38–39) that did not come from Posidonius. Hecataeus, courtier of Ptolemy I, first accused Jews of mixoxenia; some Jews shunned pagan society and would not have denied this charge (Bar-Kochva 2010: 135). For Posidonius, however, Mosaic non-mixing is a result of eusebeia. Posidonius’ positive attitude to Jewish exclusivity is contrary to the Hecataean approach and has no parallel in Greek or Latin literature (Bar-Kochva 2010: 369). Posidonius’ work also provides important background for the Areopagus speech (Acts 17: 22–31), which rejects temples “made with hands” and images of God.

Bibliography D. L. Balch, Contested Ethnicities and Images: Studies in Acts and Art, WUNT 345 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). DAVID L. BALCH

Related entries: Cicero; Diodorus Siculus; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Luke-Acts; Moses; Seneca.

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Pottery Pottery, as an artifact type, comprises a wide variety of morphologically and functionally diverse dishes made of formed, fired clay. Unlike objects made of metal (few in number and limited in distribution) or from perishable materials (wood, leather, etc.), ceramic vessels are both ubiquitous at virtually every archaeological site and nearly indestructible. For historian and archaeologist alike, excavated pottery has three primary uses: as evidence for dating archaeological strata, for the study of trade, and as evidence for ancient activities including but not limited to dining, food storage, and cult. The broader argument for studying pottery, however, is that it is illustrative of a community’s identity as expressed through acts of production and consumption. Archaeologists examine, or “read”, assemblages of pottery spatially, from many settlements of the same period, and chronologically, from a single settlement across many periods, to see what it says about the people who left it behind. For example, one might ask what types of cuisines they prepared and ate, the scale of their economic worldview (i.e. whether they were insular or open), and how their households or other spaces were organized. In this brief essay, the most common types of vessels present in household assemblages of the Second Temple period are described, drawing on archaeological data from settlements located in the northern, southern, coastal, and inland areas of ancient Israel/ Palestine. The goal is to illustrate how “reading” pottery can provide evidence for ancient practices and cultural identities during the Second Temple period. Food and dining are essential facets of human cultural expression. Specific types of cooking vessels, moreover, are characteristic of certain culinary traditions and regions of the ancient Mediterranean, as they are now. In the Second Temple period the two most common types of cooking vessels in southern Levantine household assemblages are small-mouthed globular cooking pots and wide-mouthed, round-bottomed casseroles. Globular cooking pots with a narrow rim (Figure 4.113) are designed to limit water evaporation and, therefore, are best suited for traditional eastern Mediterranean meatless soups and lentil dishes. Casseroles (Figure 4.114), on the other hand, are designed for boiling or stewing large chunks of meat and vegetables together—a culinary practice popularized in Greece beginning in the 5th and 4th centuries bce. At Phoenician-dominated coastal and northern Galilean sites (e.g. Tel Dor and Tel Anafa), casseroles typically comprised up to one-third of the kitchen pottery during the Second Temple period, yet they are completely absent or rare at Jewish sites in Judea, lower Galilee, and Gaulanitis until the 1st century bce. Even then they are most often found in the pantries

Figure 4.113  Small-mouthed globular cooking pots from Jericho.

Figure 4.114  Wide-mouthed, round-bottomed casseroles from Jericho.

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of the Jewish aristocracy in Jerusalem and Judea (e.g. Jericho, Herodium, and Masada). At Gamla, a Jewish village in central Gaulanitis, roughly one-third of each household’s kitchen pottery consisted of casseroles, with the other two-thirds comprised of cooking pots (Berlin 2006: 140). The ways in which households set their tables for eating and drinking is likewise indicative of cultural affiliations, as well as access to supplies of certain pottery types. Shiny black and redslipped drinking and serving vessels, manufactured along the Levantine coast, were used for a Mediterranean (i.e. Greek and/or Roman) way of dining. For each individual place setting, a large array of black and red-slipped cups, bowls, and plates would have been laid out for each diner, with large platters and wine decanters from which they were served their food—quite an elegant table setting (Figure 4.115)! At coastal and northern settlements, this type of dining practice would have been typical from the 2nd century bce on. The villagers of Gamla in the 1st century bce also had table settings which included red-slipped dishes, but these were much fewer in number, typically no more than five to six dishes or two to three bowls per household. A majority of their table wares were small, plain, and locally produced saucers and bowls for individual use. By the 1st century ce the villagers had stopped importing coastal fine wares altogether, but continued to eat dishes prepared in casseroles (Berlin 2011: 96–99). Even artifacts as simple as ceramic oil lamps can be useful for understanding how ancient peoples expressed themselves. During Second Temple period Israel/Palestine there are two main types of oil lamp used: (1) “delphiniform”-style imported mold-made lamps or locally produced imitations of this type (Figure 4.116); and (2) local wheel-made, knife-pared “Herodian”style lamps (Figure 4.117). The “delphiniform” lamp was common throughout the eastern Mediterranean from ca. 200 to ca. 50 bce and characterized by its decorative geometric and floral patterning, typical of Greek and Roman oil lamps. “Herodian”-style lamps were manufactured in Jerusalem starting in the late 1st century bce and conspicuously austere, lacking the geometric and figural decoration of contemporary mold-made lamps. By the late Second Temple period (ca. 50 bce to 70 ce), at every site with predominantly Jewish populations (e.g. Yodefat, Capernaum,

Figure 4.115  Eastern Sigillate A Tablewares: Assemblage from Tel Anafa.

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Figure 4.116  Delphiniform lamps from Jericho.

Figure 4.117  Herodian lamps from the Jewish Quarter Excavations.

Bethsaida, and Gamla), importation of mold-made oil lamps ceased, replaced exclusively by “Herodian”-style lamps (Berlin 2011: 96–97). What has this brief pottery “reading” revealed about Second Temple period society? One way of describing it would be to highlight two separate but equally important dichotomies in the evidence: imported versus local fabrics, and traditional versus new forms. The household assemblages from the coastal cities and their hinterlands (Tel Dor, Tel Anafa), and the residences of the Jewish aristocracy in Jerusalem and Judea indicate that these populations embraced Mediterranean commercial connections and a materially diverse lifestyle, whereas the inland settlements (esp. the central hills of Judea and Samaria, lower Galilee, and Gaulanitis) contained a more limited variety of predominantly locally produced ceramic goods. The culinary tastes of a community, based on the types of cooking and dining vessels they kept stocked in their pantries, is reflective of cultural identity. Thus, Phoenician-dominated settlements and households of

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the Jewish elite favored a more Mediterranean lifestyle, whereas rural Jewish settlements were more conservative. By the late Second Temple period, the appearance of “Herodian” lamps and the absence of Mediterranean-style coastal fine ware dishes by the villagers of Gamla suggest a complex change in their sense of their own place in Judean society. It is in this way that the study of pottery offers a window into ancient beliefs and practices during the Second Temple period.

Bibliography A. Berlin, Gamla I: The Pottery of the Second Temple Period (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2006). A. Berlin, “Identity Politics in Early Roman Galilee,” in The Jewish Revolt Against Rome, ed. M. Popović (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 69–106. DANIEL SCHINDLER AND JENNIFER GATES-FOSTER

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Masada, Archaeology of; Meals; Stone Vessels.

Priesthood The identity and composition of the priesthood of the Second Temple is the result of the turmoil of the late preexilic and exilic periods in Judah and beyond. Its effects were the dissolution of the traditional situation of several priestly “clans” (for want of a better term) officiating in numerous sanctuaries all across Judah. The worship of Yahweh in Judah in those days had been anything but uniform, had been conducted in different types of places of worship (state temples, regional sanctuaries, family sanctuaries), and had often encompassed, and in any case at least tolerated, the worship of other deities. This changed from the late preexilic period onwards. In order to understand that change, it is necessary to recapitulate some basic facts of the earlier preexilic period. Among the priestly “clans” of that epoch one finds the Zadokides (who had been officiating in Jerusalem since pre-Israelite time; 1 Kgs 2:35), the Abiatharides in Anathoth (Jeremiah seems to have been one of their descendants; Jer 1:1), the Aaronides in Bethel (Judg 20:27–28), the Elides in Shiloh (1 Sam 2:14), and others. The Hebrew Bible also mentions “priests after the order of Melchizedek” (Ps 110:4), a priesthood of which there are no clear traces but which may have been connected with, or identical with, the ancient priesthood of pre-monarchical Jerusalem, the precursor of the biblical Zadokides. The postexilic biblical categories of “Aaronides” and “Levites” are used to “systematize” the checkered history and complex identities of the preexilic priesthoods and to construct a common identity for all Yahweh priests through devising the necessary genealogies, genealogies that trace the priests and “Levites” back to their supposed forefathers, Aaron and Levi (Exod 6:14–25; 1 Chr 5:27–41). The practice is well-known from other cultures—both ancient and modern, both literate and non-literate—that devise and adjust genealogies in order to respond to political, social, and religious change. The priestly genealogies in the Hebrew Bible are prime examples of this phenomenon. The reform of the priesthood was, according to 2 Kings 22–23, part of the Josianic reform. Its historicity has been doubted, but there are many arguments that actually support it (see Schaper

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2000). According to 2 Kings 22–23 in conjunction with Deuteronomy 18:1–8, Josiah did not just have “improper” cultic practices eradicated and artifacts destroyed; he also centralized cultic worship in Jerusalem, suppressing all sacrificial worship of Yahweh anywhere outside the Jerusalem Temple and transferring the priests of the non-Jerusalemite Yahweh sanctuaries to Jerusalem (Munroe 2011: 121–38). The postexilic priesthood of the Yahweh-religion in Judah was the result of a “reinvention” of the priestly identity, integrating the Zadokides, “Aaronides,” the non-Jerusalemite “Levitical” priests (cf. Deut 18:6–8), and other priestly groups through one all-inclusive priestly genealogy, i.e. the Levi-Aaron genealogy that is found in the Priestly code (Cody 1969: 146–74). This genealogy synthesized earlier priestly genealogies and used the resultant amalgam as the expression of political and religious compromises and the basis for the postexilic stabilization of the Yahweh-priesthood. The reinvention was necessitated by the changed political, social, and religious circumstances, resulting in the establishment of Jerusalem and (parts of former) Judah as Yehud, a province in the Achaemenid Empire. As a consequence of the reemergence of Judah as a small, politically insignificant province of a great empire, a province that had undergone a complete break with is monarchical traditions and now lacked a monarch of its own, the emerging office of high priest attracted some of the attributes of the monarch to itself. Effectively, the high priest now was the leader not just of the priesthood but of the political entity, too. In Yehud, only one priestly system was now in operation: the Levitical-Aaronide priesthood that based its claim to legitimacy on the kind of priestly genealogy found in Exodus 6:14–25. The priesthood was subdivided into priests properly so-called and “Levites,” i.e. second-rank priests (cf. Ezek 44:6–16; Num 3–4; 18) who, while commanding (like the priests) the respect due to men supposedly descended from Levi, had to be content to serve in an auxiliary position. For the first time in the history of the Yahwehpriesthood(s) in Israel and Judah was there one amalgamated, unified priesthood in one unique and sole sanctuary. However, priests of the Yahweh-religion were not just active in the motherland. Outside Yehud, priesthoods serving Yahweh were established in two places, both of them in Egypt (Modrzeiewski 1995; VanderKam 2004: 112–239): Elephantine (in Upper Egypt) and Leontopolis (in the Nile delta). The former was the home of Jewish soldiers first in Egyptian, then in Persian service from the 6th century bce onwards (Egypt was under Persian domination from 525 bce). The colony had a temple with a priesthood worshipping Yahweh (referred to as Yahu) and other deities, a cult which came to its end in 410 bce, when the Yahu-temple was destroyed. The practices of the Yahwehpriesthood of Elephantine are well-documented through letters exchanged between them and the Jerusalemite priesthood, letters which indicate that the contact between the diaspora priests and their brethren in Jerusalem was well-established and that the former asked the latter for advice in cultic matters, deferring to the Jerusalem priesthood as the ultimate authority in such matters. The priesthood in Leontopolis, descended from Onias IV, conducted—like the Elephantine priests before them—a sacrificial Yahweh cult at a sanctuary (Josephus, J.W. 7.420–432) of their own from ca. 160 bce onwards (Josephus, Ant. 12.387–388). The reasons for establishing it are not known, but it is possible that its establishment was triggered by the aftermath of Antiochus IV Epiphanes’ persecution of the Jews. As in the case of Elephantine, the two priesthoods and two loci of sacrificial Yahweh worship do not seem to have been perceived as being mutually

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exclusive—which is remarkable, given Josiah’s reform and the positive evaluation it receives in biblical literature. The cult at the Oniad temple ceased in 71 ce, due to its destruction at the hands of the Romans.

Bibliography A. Cody, A History of Old Testament Priesthood, AnBibl 35 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969). L. A. S. Munroe, Josiah’s Reform and the Dynamics of Defilement: Israelite Rites of Violence and the Making of a Biblical Texts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). JOACHIM SCHAPER

Related entries: Holiness; Oniads; Purification and Purity; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine The residential dwelling is an architectural design intended to create artificial boundaries in nature and a separation between the private and public domain. In antiquity, the house was first and foremost a space for family activity, and thus residential architecture reflected the needs of the family members. The house also represented the social status and the cultural world of the society that created it. In addition to the personal and cultural factors that affected the architecture of the house, the building reflected the “living settlement fabric” of its particular urban environment—whether polis, city, or village. In the Second Temple period there were several types of houses in the land of Israel, with the common feature being an open-air or partially roofed courtyard, which was usually internal. The courtyard was an integral part of the residential compound, usually serving as the main activity area. A wide variety of domestic tasks such as processing agricultural produce, preparing food, spinning, and weaving were carried out therein. The courtyard also served as a source of light for the surrounding rooms. The houses of the wealthy, which were influenced by the GrecoRoman world, had ostentatious courtyards with an atrium or peristyle (Herbert and Ariel 1994: 14–19). Still, as the vast majority of dwellings were local in character, and buildings in foreign architectural styles were rare (Tal 2006). Central Courtyard House.  The most common house style in the Second Temple period was the central courtyard house, whose main architectural features were the following: A. Overall rectangular plan B. A rectangular central courtyard, usually paved or hewn. The courtyard is the largest space in the structure and is surrounded by rooms on three or four sides. C. Shared walls with houses of the same type. Houses of this type have been found in Maresha (Kloner 2010a, 2010b) and Mount Gerizim (Magen 2000), and have been dated to the 2nd century bce. Similar houses found in various sites in Judea, the Galilee, and the Golan Heights were in use until the Bar Kokhba revolt (mid-2nd cent. ce). Thus this house style was typical of the Idumean, Samaritan, pagan, and Jewish populations 624

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Figure 4.118  Reconstruction of central house from area 53 in Maresha.

and can be found in both cities and villages, and was used for the ornate houses of the wealthy as well as the simple houses of villagers. Some of the residential complexes featured an additional space used for olive oil production. The Central Courtyard House was usually over 300 square meters and would have housed extended families or groups of unrelated families, rather than a single nuclear family (Figure 4.118; Figure 4.119). A major characteristic of Jewish houses, beginning in the late 2nd century bce, is the ritual bath (miqveh), which can be found in almost every complex. The observance of the Jewish laws of ritual purity by the general population, and not only by the priests who served in the Jerusalem Temple, necessitated the installation of miqva’ot. The proliferation of stone vessels, which were impervious to ritual impurity, further attests to this observance. The dwellings in most Jewish villages and rural areas were characterized by simple, dry construction, the use of fieldstones or worked stones, and little ornamentation, while the houses of the wealthy in the cities boasted mosaic floors and decorated walls (Baruch 2018). An example for the latter is the Palatial Mansion house in Jerusalem, which covers 600 square meters and had a large courtyard, numerous rooms and mikva’ot (Avigad 2000: 95–120). One of the outstanding features of that building is the decoration in most of the rooms, which have mosaic floors and walls adorned with frescos or stucco. Individual Buildings in the Rural Landscape: Farmhouses and Estates. Large, individual buildings were quite prevalent in the rural regions of the land of Israel and have been found throughout the country. The farmhouse was a structure situated in the middle of an agricultural area that had living and work spaces. Since these were individual buildings, there is great variety in their design and form, and they were less influenced by the limitations posed by placing buildings within settlements (be it villages or cities). Even so, farmhouses had several identical 625

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Figure 4.119  Central courtyard house in Khibet Badd ‘Isa.

Figure 4.120  Farmhouse with a tower in ʻOfarin (Samaria).

features. From an architectural perspective, the farmhouses featured a large courtyard surrounded by rooms on three or four sides. The courtyard and some of the rooms contained installations, such as a wine press or an olive press, for the processing of the agricultural produce, while other rooms were dedicated to living activities and the storage of the produce. Almost all such structures were unornamented, without any decorative architectural elements. Some farmhouses included a tower in one corner, but their nature is debated; some believe that they marked way stations for travelers, while others argue that they served to fortify farmsteads against attack (Riklin 1997; Figure 4.120). Some isolated structures were built of high-quality materials; these are usually understood to be estates. Despite their superior construction, they served similar purposes to the homes surveyed above. The estate differs from the farmhouse in its additional elements attesting to wealth, such as a bathhouse or ornate living quarters with mosaic floors and wall decorations. One example of the estate style is “Hilkiya’s Palace” at Khirbet el-Muraq, which was similar to the rustic villas common in the Roman world yet clearly designed for a wealthy family. Hellenistic and Roman-Style Dwellings.  Hellenistic or Roman-style dwellings are rare in Judea in this period, and only a few have been found. A large (1,450 square meters) peristyle house, named the Stuccoed Building, was found at Tel Anafa and dated to 125–75 bce. This building has a peristyle courtyard completely surrounded by rooms that include a bathhouse with a mosaic floor made of white marble and diorite. This is the oldest mosaic floor found in situ in a private house in the land of Israel. The building’s design and decorations, which include Phoenician elements, resemble peristyle houses in the Hellenistic world, like those found in Delos and Pergamon (Herbert and Ariel 1994: 31–99).

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Additionally, an atrium style house was discovered at Sebastia and has been dated to the 1st century bce (Reisner, Fisher, and Lyon 1924: 180–85).

Bibliography N. Avigad, Discovering Jerusalem (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1983). E. Baruch, “Adopted Roman Rituals in Second Century CE Jewish Houses,” in Jews and Christians in the First and Second Centuries: The Interbellum 70–132 ce, ed. J. Schwartz and P. J. Tomson (Leiden and Boston, 2018), 50–75. S. C. Herbert and D. T. Ariel, Tel Anafa I, i—Final Report on Ten Years of Excavation at a Hellenistic and Roman Settlement in Northern Israel (Ann Arbor: Museum of the University of Michigan, 1994). A. Kloner, “The Site and the Epigraphic Finds,” Maresha Excavations Final Report III (IAA Report 45) (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010a), 5–8. A. Kloner, “Maresha: Archaeological and Epigraphic Overview,” Maresha Excavations Final Report III (IAA Report 45) (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010b), 206–9. Y. Magen, G. Bijovsky, Y. Tzionit, and O. Sirkis, “Khibet Badd ‘Isa—Qiryat Sefer,” in The Land of Benjamin, eds. D.T. Ariel, G. Bijovsky, Y. Magen, O. Sirkis, and Y. Zionit (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2004), 186–99, 206–18. Y. Magen, “Mt. Gerizim—A Temple City,” Qadmoniot 120 (2000): 80–95 (Hebrew). S. Riklin, “The Courtyard Towers in the Light of Finds from ʻOfarin,” ʻAtiqot 32 (1997): 95–98 (Hebrew). O. Tal, The Archaeology of the Hellenistic Palestine: Between Tradition and Renewal (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2006), 90–137 (Hebrew). EYAL BARUCH

Related entries: Agriculture; Baths; Holiness; Idumea; Mosaics; Palestine; Purification and Purity; Revolt, Second Jewish; Wealth and Poverty.

Procurators Procurator (Gk. ἐπίτροπος epitropos) originally signified the agent of a private citizen, who, having received procuration, administered his employer’s possessions (cf. Cicero,Caecin. 20.57; Marquardt 1957: 1.555). Augustus utilized procurators—initially freedmen (Marquardt 1957: 2.257), later exclusively from the equites (Eck 2001: 367)—for the administration of his private assets and the public revenues in the imperial provinces. They were to “collect public revenues and make disbursements” to the soldiers (Dio Cassius 53.15.3; cf. Strabo, Geogr. 3.4.20) as well as manage the imperial private revenues. The procurator assisted a proconsul or propraetor, who governed the province and were appointed from the senatorial ranks. The duties of governors, who functioned as presidial procurators, were entrusted to a knight in the smaller provinces. Judea under Augustus and Tiberius was governed by an official who bore the title praefectus. This term, emphasizing the military character of the governorship, is attested for Pontius Pilatus (CIIP 2.1277; Figure 4.121) and was the typical designation for a lower-level governor from the class of knights until the reign of Claudius, which began in 41 ce (Brunt 1966: 463). Despite the different terminology, the function of a presidial procurator was probably indistinguishable from that of a praefectus when it came to civil and criminal competence. This terminological distinction was already lost on the historians of the late 1st and early 2nd century

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Figure 4.121  Inscription from Caesarea Maritima identifying Pontius Pilate as Praefectus.

(see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]); Josephus and Tacitus called the early governors ἐπίτροπος (epitropos) and procurator respectively (Josephus, J.W. 2.117 [Coponius]; J.W. 2.169 [Pilate]; Tacitus, Ann. 15.44.4 [Pilate]). The origin of the praxis of appointing a knight as presidial procurator over smaller Roman territories is unclear; Marquardt posits that it occurred in areas that lacked arable land or a rebellious population (1957: 1.555), whereas Pflaum sees the origin in military necessity and low expenditure (1957: 1243). Freedmen could also attain to this post, as in the case of Felix (52 ce). The procurators of Judea (and over a larger area of Palestine after 44 ce) appear to have been subordinate to the Roman legate in Syria (Schürer 1973: 1.360). Thus the legatus Augusti pro praetore Vitellius deposed the governor of Judea Pontius Pilatus (Ant. 18.89; cf. similarly J.W. 2.280–83; see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). If the procurators were too harsh (e.g. in military intervention), they had to fear being sent to Rome by the legate in Syria to give account (as, e.g., Cumanus in J.W. 2.244; Ant. 20.132). Whether or not the governors of Judea were entrusted with the ius gladii is disputed. Josephus states that Coponius was given authority by Augustus to inflict capital punishment and that he had “full authority” (J.W. 2.117; Ant. 18.2). The legati Augusti propraetore possessed this right, but Pflaum interprets the specific mention as evidence that it had to be explicitly given and was not inherent in the appointment (1957: 1267; cf. SEG IX 8 Edict IV 63–66; Edict I 35–37). The procurator encroached upon the high priesthood: Gratus deposed three high priests (Ant. 18.34) and Fadus ordered the transfer of the high priestly vestments into the Roman controlled Antonia fortress (Ant. 20.6). According to Josephus, the high priest could not convene the Sanhedrin without the procurator’s consent (Ant. 20.202). Ananus the high priest was only able to convene the Sanhedrin to judge and execute James, the brother of Jesus, because the procurator Festus was dead and his successor, Albinus, had not yet arrived (Ant. 20.200; cf. also 20.102– 103). The procurator also acted as judge; the high priest Hananias and the elders brought an

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action against Paul before Felix (Acts 24:1) and again before his successor Festus in Caesarea Maritima (Acts 25:2). Keeping peace through the quelling of revolts fell to the praefectus/procurator (cf. Ulpian, Digest 1.18.13). Pilate blocked a Samaritan mob from ascending Mount Gerizim at the behest of a messianic pretender, though for this action he was deposed and summoned to Rome for an explanation (Ant. 18.85–89). Moreover, it was Fadus who suppressed the rebellion of Theudas and his followers (Ant. 20.97–99). The procurator regularly stationed his troops on the portico of the outer Jerusalem Temple during festivals to prevent or, if necessary, subdue insurrections (J.W. 5.244; Ant. 20.192). Maintaining and commanding these troops were one of the governors’ duties (cf. the emperor Claudius’ instructions to Fadus in Ant. 19.365). Josephus lauds the first two procurators under Claudius for not interfering with the customs of the country (J.W. 2.220; see Table 4.2). By contrast, Josephus was critical of the subsequent governors, blaming them for provoking rebellion and war (Ant. 18.25; 20.257). Florus, e.g., extracted 17 talents from the Temple treasury, causing an uproar which Josephus claims he then cruelly suppressed (J.W. 2.293–332). There is reason, however, to question Josephus’ simplistic account that places blame for the war on a few rebellious Judeans and the incompetent cruelness of the Roman procurators. The holders of the office of praefectus/procurator of Judea and Palestine respectively are known primarily from Josephus (see “Praefectus/Procurator of Judea and Palestine). Table 4.2  Praefectus/Procurator of Judea and Palestine: 6–9

Coponius (Ant. 18.29)

9–12

Marcus Ambivulus (Ant. 18.31)

12–15

Annius Rufus (Ant. 18.32)

15–26

Valerius Gratus (Ant. 18.33)

26–36

Pontius Pilatus (Ant. 18.55–64; 85–89)

36–37

Marcellus (Ant. 18.89)

37–41

Marullus (Ant. 18.237)

44–45

Cuspius Fadus (Ant. 19.363–20.8; Ant. 20.97–99)

46–48

Tiberius Julius Alexander (J.W. 2.220; Ant. 20.100–103: OGIS 669; CPJ 418–20)

48–52

Ventidius Cumanus (J.W. 2.223–246; Ant. 20.103–136; Tacitus, Ann. 12.54 gov. of Galilee)

52–60

Antonius Felix ([the name Claudius Felix in Ant. 20.137 contradicts Tacitus, Hist. 5.9 and CIL V 34] J.W. 2.247–270; Ant. 20.137; 141–144; 161–182; Acts 23:24–24:27; Tacitus, Hist. 5.9)

60–62

Porcius Festus (J.W. 2.271–72; Ant. 20.182–200; Acts 24:27–26:32)

62–64

Albinus (J.W. 2.272–276; Ant. 20.200–215)

64–66

Gessius Florus (J.W. 2.277–341; 418–20; 457; 531; 558; Ant. 18.25; 20.215; 252–58)

70 perhaps earlier Marcus Antonius Julianus (J.W. 6.238)

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The governors of Judea were appointed from the senatorial class after the war with Rome. The title procurator reverted to signify the financial administrator subordinate to the governor.

Bibliography P. A. Brunt, “Procuratorial Jurisdiction,” Latomus 25 (1966): 461–89. W. Eck, “Procurator,” in Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, eds. H. Cancik and H. Schneider, vol. 10 (Stuttgart: Metzler, 2001), 366–68. J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, 3 vols. (Darmstadt: Hermann Gentner Verlag 1957). H.-G. Pflaum, “Procurator,” in Realencyclopädie der Altertumswissenschaft, ed. K. Ziegler, vol. 23.1 (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1957), 1240–79. LUKE NEUBERT

Related entries: Inscriptions; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Governors; Romanization.

Prophecy Prophecy refers to the “transmission of allegedly divine messages by a human intermediary to a third party” (Nissinen 2000: vii). For some Jews in antiquity, prophecy was an institution that had ceased to exist in the early postexilic period (see, e.g., Ps 74:9; Prayer of Azariah 15; 1 Macc 9:27; 4:46; 14:41; 2 Bar. 85:1; m. Soṭah 9:13; t. Soṭah 13:2–3). Yet other Jews affirmed that prophets and prophecy were not merely vestiges of ancient Israel. Indeed, there were individuals who regarded themselves as recipients of ongoing revelation and therefore saw themselves in continuity with the prophets of old. The Second Temple period evidence points to shifting conceptualizations of the meaning of prophecy and several new settings for prophetic activity (Jassen 2007; Cook 2011). New Modes of Revelation.  Textualized revelation has a long prehistory that reaches back into late biblical prophetic literature (e.g., Ezek 3:1–3; Zech 5:1–4). In the Second Temple period, the reading, interpretation, and reconfiguration of ancient prophetic scripture are regarded as prophetic experiences. In Daniel 9, e.g., Daniel’s interpretation of Jeremiah’s written word is treated as commensurate with the prophetic visions and dreams that he experiences in other chapters (Jassen 2007: 221–25). Similarly, the pesharim found among the Dead Sea Scrolls are predicated on the assumption that the word of God is transmitted through written form and the inspired reading of prophetic scripture uncovers this divine voice (Jassen 2007: 343–53; Brooke 2012: 244–52). Moreover, the authors of the expanded prophetic narratives (e.g., Pseudo-Ezekiel, Apocryphon of Jeremiah) appropriated the ancient prophetic voice in order to create an expanded prophetic discourse. In so doing, the later authors likely viewed their writing experience as staking claim to prophetic continuity (Brooke 2012: 238–41). Many Second Temple authors likewise regarded the receipt of divine wisdom as a prophetic experience. While the cultivation of wisdom is common in the biblical tradition, it is rarely associated with Israelite prophets. In the Second Temple period, wisdom instruction is removed from its exclusive sapiential context and provided with a new prophetic framework (Jassen 2007: 241–78; Nissinen 2008). Ben Sira, e.g., identifies the process of teaching wisdom as “pouring out instruction like prophecy” (Sir 24:33). The Cave 11 Psalms Scroll introduces David’s composition of the Psalms as the product of prophetic inspiration: “All these he composed through prophecy, which 630

Prophecy

was given to him from before the Most High” (11Q5 = 11QPsa xxvii 11) (Jassen 2007: 366–75). Many of these new settings for prophetic activity play a central role in the revelatory experience of apocalypses. Apocalyptic writers framed the apocalyptic visionaries of their creation as divine mediators in continuity with the activity of the ancient prophets. An apocalypse participates in the new language of prophecy at the same time as it lays claim to the heritage of the ancient prophets (Jassen 2016). Prophecy in Josephus.  Josephus provides one of the richest sources of evidence on prophecy in Second Temple Judaism (Gray 1993). His writings have often been introduced as evidence for the end of prophecy, with proponents citing his words that the “exact succession of prophecy” ended during the time of Artaxerxes (Ag. Ap. 1.37–40). This apparent viewpoint generally corresponds with the early postexilic period ending for prophecy presumed by several other ancient Jewish sources (Gray 1993: 8–16). To conclude that this is Josephus’ view, however, is to misread him. In this statement Josephus is asserting that only prophetic books composed before the early postexilic period are worthy of inclusion in the sacred scriptures. His explanation is not that prophecy ended, but rather that it changed. Prophecy as it was performed and perceived in the preexilic period had come to an end at some point in the early postexilic period. At the same time, new prophetic models emerged that performed similar mediating functions. The distinction in prophecy for Josephus is readily apparent in the terminology that he employs. Whenever Josephus discusses prophets from ancient Israel, he introduces them with the designation prophētēs (προφήτης, “prophet”). When Josephus treats individuals in the Second Temple period whom he believes possess mediating abilities, he either uses an alternate title such as mantis (μάντις, “mantic”) or merely refrains from using a descriptive title. The most prominent exception to Josephus’ terminological distinctions is his treatment of John Hyrcanus. Josephus ascribes a wide range of prophetic abilities to John Hyrcanus and employs explicit prophetic terminology in doing so (J.W. 1.68–69; Ant. 13.282–283, 299–300, 322). False Prophecy.  The recognition of the changing nature of prophecy must be viewed alongside a general wariness of false prophets in the Second Temple period (Jassen 2014: 179–82). Zechariah 13:2–6, e.g., casts aspersions on all individuals claiming to be prophets by contrasting the true prophets of old with the illegitimate prophets of the present. While Zech. 13:2–6 refers to the condemned individuals with the technical term “prophet,” later Second Temple literature unequivocally identifies such individuals as false prophets. The Septuagint, e.g., translates the Hebrew nbyʾ (‫נביא‬, “prophet”) as pseudoprophētēs (ψευδοπροφήτης, “false prophet”) in all cases where the individual is deemed to be a false prophet (e.g. Zech 13:2). Josephus uses similar terminology to deny any prophetic identity for several individuals in the Second Temple period claiming to be prophets (Gray 1993: 112–44). For example, Josephus denies any truth to the prophetic claims of the “Egyptian” by introducing him simply as a “false prophet” (J.W. 2.261). Josephus similarly traces the roots of the failed zealotry against Rome to a 1st-century ce “false prophet” (J.W. 6.285; cf. 2.258). In all these cases, Josephus employs the designation “false prophet,” alongside terms such as “imposter” and “deceiver” (e.g. J.W. 2.259; Ant. 20.167), to reject the very notion that these individuals have any access to God. Several texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls evince a concern for false prophets. The Temple Scroll (11QTa liv 8–18) and the Moses Apocryphon (4Q375) both contain a set of laws based on Deuteronomic principles for identifying and prosecuting a false prophet. Similarly, 4QList of False Prophets (4Q339) 631

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preserves a register of false prophets in Israel’s history. These texts indicate that the sectarian communities of the Dead Sea Scrolls also participated in the widespread suspicions regarding contemporary prophetic claims (Jassen 2007: 299–306). Eschatological Prophecy.  Additional texts from the Second Temple period reflect the general belief that a new form of prophecy would emerge in the eschatological age (1 Macc 4:42–46; 14; 41; Sir 48:10; 1QS ix 11; 4Q175; 4Q558). These expectations focus either on general prophetic activity in the end of the days or on the role of a specific end-time prophet, usually associated with Elijah (Jassen 2007: 133–96).

Bibliography G. J. Brooke, “Prophetic Interpretation in the Pesharim.” in A Companion to Biblical Interpretation in Early Judaism, ed. M. Henze (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 235–54. L. S. Cook, On the Question of the “Cessation of Prophecy” in Ancient Judaism (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). R. Gray, Prophetic Figures in Late Second Temple Jewish Palestine: The Evidence from Josephus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). A. P. Jassen, Mediating the Divine: Prophecy and Revelation in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism, STDJ 68 (Leiden: Brill, 2007). A. P. Jassen, “Prophecy, Power, and Politics in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Second Temple Judaism,” in Divination, Politics, and Ancient Near Eastern Empires, ed. A. Lenzi and J. Stökl, ANEM (Atlanta: Society for Biblical Literature, 2014), 171–98. A. P. Jassen, “Scribes, Visionaries, and Prophets: On the Place of Apocalyptic in the History of Prophecy,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 5.3 (2016): 233–54. M. Nissinen, ed., Prophecy in Its Ancient near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical and Arabian Perspectives, SBLSymS (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000). M. Nissinen, “Transmitting Divine Mysteries: The Prophetic Role of Wisdom Teachers in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Scripture in Transition: Essays on the Septuagint, Hebrew Bible, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of Raija Sollamo, ed. A. Voitila and J. Jokiranta (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 513–33. ALEX P. JASSEN

Related entries: Eschatology; Josephus, Writings of; Pesharim; Prophets, Texts Associated with.

Prophets, Texts Associated with In the Second Temple period the title “prophet” is often used pejoratively (as in false prophet) of contemporary figures (e.g. 1QHa xii 17; 11QTa lxi 1–4; T. Jud. 21:9; 2 Bar 66:4; Matt 7:15; 24:11, 24; Mark 13:12; Acts 13:6; 2 Pet 2:1; 1 John 4:1; Rev 2:20; 16:13; 19:20; 20:10; Ascen. Isa. 2–3, 5; cf. 1 Macc 14:41). The positive connotation of the title is mostly reserved for classical figures of antiquity (see below). The non-titular forms referring to texts as prophecy or a person as filled with a spirit of prophecy are used only slightly less sparingly (see 1 En. 91:1–3; Acts 11:28; 21:7–11). Additionally, books could be labeled as “prophets” even if no author is named in the book (e.g. CD A vii 17; 1QS viii 16; 1QpHab ii 9; vii 5, 8; Tob 14:4–5; Bar 1–2). Many other texts claim association with prophecy or succession of prophetic roles, such as inspired interpreter, apocalyptic visionary, historiographer, and hymnist (e.g. Najman 2010). A significant number of texts, especially from the Dead Sea Scrolls, are too fragmentary for scholars to be certain whether authorship was attributed to the classical prophet directly or to an inspired 632

Prophets, Texts Associated with

interpreter (e.g. fragments associated with traditions related to Ezekiel, Moses, and Jeremiah in 4Q383–390; cf. Dimant 1992; Davis 2014: 46–102). During the Second Temple period there emerged an informal list of individuals readily and often called “the prophets.” This list is not coterminous with those individuals called prophets in literature that became canonical. For example, Abraham and Miriam, called prophets in Genesis 20:7 and Exodus 15:20 respectively, are not typically listed as prophets. From SamuelKings only Elijah is frequently mentioned, while Micaiah ben Imlah (1 Kgs 22), Ahijah (1 Kgs 11–14), Jehu (1 Kgs 16), and Gad (2 Sam 22, 24) are nearly forgotten. Even Samuel (1 Sam) and Nathan (2 Sam 7, 12) do not capture the ongoing imagination as much as does Elijah (1 and 2 Kgs), propelled by the eschatologically suggestive conclusion to Malachi (Mal 4:5). Meanwhile, several of those often listed as prophets are not given the title in the books attributed to them (e.g. Hosea, Amos [cf. 7:14], Zephaniah, Jonah). As is often the case, the use of the title “prophet” in a book can be a different matter than association with prophetic roles and the retrospective judgment of subsequent generations. The existence of an informal category of classical prophets can be seen in Ben Sira’s praise of the ancestors (Sir 44–50), which uses the title “prophet” more narrowly than the function of prophecy. Ben Sira seems to count as prophets Moses (aided by Joshua, 46:1), Samuel (46:13, 15, with Nathan called a successor, 47:1), Elijah (48:1, with Elisha as successor, 48:8), Isaiah (48:22), Jeremiah (49:7), Ezekiel (called a visionary, not a prophet, 49:8), and the twelve prophets (49:10), presumably referring to Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi. Understandably, Ben Sira does not mention Daniel as a prophet. Though later texts rarely refer to Daniel as a prophet (cf., e.g., 4Q174 1–3 ii 3; Matt 24:15), the exclusion of the Book of Daniel from the proto-canonical category “prophets” (more below) suggest that by the 2nd century bce an informal list of classical prophets had begun to stabilize. The rare exceptions when later authors extend the category through association (e.g. 4 Ezra 1:1) do not undermine the emergence of the category of classical prophets. At the same time, Ben Sira illustrates how the concept of prophecy is not limited to the office of prophet, particularly in reference to himself (Sir 24:33, see also 44:3). Elsewhere, non-title forms of the root for prophecy are associated with, for example, Enoch (1 En. 91:1–3; Jude 1:14), Noah (Jub. 8:18), Jacob (Jub. 31:12), David (11QPsa xxvii), the Teacher of Righteousness (1QpHab vii 1–5), and John in the Book of Revelation. These cases are only the tip of the iceberg of the much broader category of texts that avoid the title “prophet” but strongly evoke association with prophetic figures and functions. The category of texts associated with prophecy (but not prophets) could include all hymnody, apocalyptic visions, and inspired interpretation. Additionally, the category of “prophets” and associated literature can include not only named figures and their books (including Joshua and Samuel), but the sometimes anonymous literature of historiography (including Judges and Kings). The tripartite canon suggested in the grandson’s foreword to Ben Sira (approximately 132 bce) may already reflect this judgment. The earliest evidence of the underlying logic may be suggested in the historical books excluded from the surviving canonical category of “prophets,” the books of Chronicles. Chronicles claims that the prophets Samuel, Nathan, Gad, Ahijah, Iddo, and Shemiah not only delivered oracles but also kept and interpreted historical records (1 Chr 29:29; 2 Chr 9:29; 12:15; 13:22; Amit 2006). Even though the books of Chronicles were ultimately not included in the canonical category of prophets along with Samuel-Kings, the claim that historiography is a form of prophecy seems to 633

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have been appreciated at least by Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.37). Josephus not only associates himself with named prophets (esp. Jeremiah) but also extends the notion that historiography is prophetic. Even if one were to set aside the texts associated with prophetic functions and roles, as well as texts associated with adopting prophetic personae (e.g. New Jeremiah, New Elijah, New Moses), and focus only on texts associated with the classical named prophets, there is a wide range of degrees of association. The ambiguity is exacerbated when the preserved texts are fragmentary, or if one distinguishes between stages of composition and reception history. In the case of Habakkuk, one can distinguish the canonical book as having authorship attributed to the named prophet, as opposed to the Habakkuk Pesher, which creates an authorial distinction for the inspired interpreter. In the case of Moses, some books attribute themselves to Moses as author or first recipient (Deuteronomy, Jubilees, Temple Scroll), while others are attributed to Moses in the course of reception history (Genesis). In the case of Jeremiah, there are at least two forms of a book attributed to the prophet Jeremiah (Masoretic Text and the shorter Septuagint); moreover, both Lamentations and Baruch are associated with Jeremiah during the Second Temple period. Among the Dead Sea Scrolls up to three Jeremiah Apocrypha have been identified (among 4Q383, 4Q385a, 4Q387, 4Q387a, 4Q388a, 4Q389–390; cf. Davis 2014), but it is not clear whether authorship was attributed to Jeremiah, as opposed to something else one might call “inspired interpretation of Jeremiah” or “revivals of the prophetic spirit attributed to Jeremiah.” Similarly, fragments have been labeled by modern editors “Pseudo-Ezekiel” (4Q385, 4Q385b–c, 4Q386, 4Q388). These fragments seem to be independent of a second book of Ezekiel or “Ezekiel Apocryphon” known to Josephus and some church fathers. Even as the Second Temple period sees a stabilization of the category of “classical prophets,” the production of literature following the model and/or authority of these figures varies widely (Collins 2015: 54–72).

Bibliography Y. Amit, “The Role of Prophecy and Prophets in the Chronicler’s World,” in Prophets, Prophecy, and Prophetic Texts in Second Temple Judaism, ed. M. H. Floyd and R. D. Haak, LHB/OT 427 (London: Bloomsbury, 2006), 80–101. P. C. Beentjes, “Prophets and Prophecy in the Book of Ben Sira,” in Prophets, Prophecy, and Prophetic Texts in Second Temple Judaism, ed. M. H. Floyd and R. D. Haak, LHB/OT 427 (London: Bloomsbury, 2006), 135–50. D. Dimant, “New Light from Qumran on the Jewish Pseudepigrapha—4Q390,” The Madrid Qumran Congress (1993), 2:405–48. H. Najman, Past Renewals: Interpretive Authority, Renewed Revelation, and the Quest for Perfection in Jewish Antiquity, JSJSup 23 (Leiden: Brill, 2010). TODD R. HANNEKEN

Related entries: Ezekiel, Book of; Isaiah, Book of; Jeremiah and Lamentations; Josephus, Writings of; Lives of the Prophets; Minor Prophets; Pesharim.

Proselytism—see Conversion and Proselytism (pt 4) Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament” “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” is a modern category encompassing some of the rich variety of pre-modern writings that claim to preserve the teachings or stories of patriarchs, prophets, and 634

Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament”

others also known from the Hebrew Bible. As commonly conceived, the category prominently features anonymous and pseudonymous literary genres developed in the Second Temple period, such as the apocalypse and the testament. It includes ancient writings of known Jewish provenance (e.g. Jubilees) as well as Christian writings that compile, revise, or rework earlier Jewish texts and traditions with varying degrees of fidelity (e.g. Life of Adam and Eve; Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs). Transmitted primarily by Christian monastic and other scribes, so-called “Pseudepigrapha” are extant across a broad array of languages, including Greek, Latin, Ethiopic, Slavonic, Coptic, Syriac, Armenian, and Arabic, and the medieval manuscript tradition includes multiple versions and translations of many such works, attesting the enduring place of parabiblical literature in pre-modern understandings of the biblical past. Although best known today from the print anthologies that bear its name in their titles, such as those of Charles (1913) and James Charlesworth (1983–1985), the category of “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” does not correspond to any known pre-modern corpus. In practice, it often serves as a “catch-all” to collect those writings deemed potentially useful for studying Second Temple Judaism and early Christianity but not contained in Jewish, Protestant, or Catholic biblical canons, nor in the Catholic corpus of deuterocanonical literature or what Protestants call the “Old Testament Apocrypha,” nor among authored works by Second Temple Jews like Philo and Josephus, nor in the Dead Sea Scrolls or classical rabbinic literature. To the degree that the “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” is systematically distinguished from writings in these other corpora, it is primarily by virtue of their reception: the writings therein tend to survive only or primarily in forms transmitted by Christian scribes, especially on and beyond the borders of the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, so-called “Pseudepigrapha” remain otherwise diverse. Some are pre-70 ce; some are post-70 ce; many have multiple strata or complex redaction histories. Some were “lost” to history, surviving only in quoted excerpts and/or in one or two late manuscripts (e.g. Apocalypse of Zephaniah; Testament of Moses), while others were well-known into the Middle Ages in and beyond the West, continuously transmitted in multiple languages (e.g. Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs) and even within some pre-Reformation Christian Bibles (e.g. 4 Ezra). Some have had an authoritative status in ancient Jewish communities and/or non-Western Christian communities (e.g. 1 Enoch and Jubilees at Qumran and in Ethiopia), while others do not seem to have functioned as “Scripture” in any community at all (e.g. Sibylline Oracles; Letter of Aristeas). Different collections of “Pseudepigrapha” differ notably in their scope and contents, pointing to the shifting functions of the category within modern scholarship. The German bibliographer Johann Albert Fabricius is typically credited for innovating and popularizing the notion of “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” through his influential anthologies Codex pseudepigraphus Veteris Testamenti (1713) and Codicis pseudepigraphi Veteris Testamenti Volumen alterum accedit Josephi veteris Christiani auctoria Hypomnesticon (1723). These anthologies compile texts and excerpts related to biblical patriarchs and prophets, presenting them as forged, falsely attributed, and spurious in contrast to their canonical counterparts and thereby seeking to defuse some of the excitement surrounding the early modern rediscovery of lost texts in newly published manuscripts. Even as Fabricius’ volumes were culled by thinkers like John Toland and William Whiston for claims about ancient suppressed truths, his coinage thus contributed to the scholarly tendency to draw a stark contrast between “canonical” and “non-canonical” literature and to read this contrast through the lens of distinctively modern ideas of authorship and forgery (Reed 2009).

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In the late 19th and early 20th century, the category of “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” was repurposed to function as a reservoir of sources for studying the Jewish background of Jesus and early Christianity, and the concept of a corpus of “Pseudepigrapha” was further fostered by two prominent anthologies: Kautzsch’s 1900 Apokryphen und Pseudepigraphen des Alten Testaments and Charles’ 1913 Old Testament Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha. Their anthologies updated Fabricius’ volumes to include the full texts of works like 1 Enoch, which had been known to Fabricius only in quoted excerpts, as well as works newly rediscovered in the interim, such as 2 Enoch. Whereas Fabricius’ volumes featured Greek and other editions alongside Latin translations, Kautzch’s and Charles’ volumes consisted solely of translations, and they were framed explicitly as a tool to make texts extant in rarely studied languages widely accessible in English translation to scholars of Judaism and Christianity. Charles’ volume has been most influential in English-language scholarship, not least in fostering the perception of “Pseudepigrapha” as “non-canonical Jewish books written between 200 bce and ad 100.” Like Fabricius, Charles treats pseudonymity as a defining marker of this literature, despite the lack of explicit claims about “authorship” in many writings therein. Charles, however, speculates about pseudonymity as a mark of their composition by Jews during an “intertestamental” age of the cessation of prophecy that preceded and prepared for the rise of Christianity. In addition, Charles associates so-called “Pseudepigrapha” with what he calls “apocalyptic Judaism.” In the mid- to late 20th century, renewed interest in “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” was spurred by the discovery and publication of the Dead Sea Scrolls, which included Aramaic and Hebrew fragments of portions of works known earlier only in secondary translations in late antique or medieval manuscripts (e.g. 4QEnocha-g; 4QEnastra-d; 1QJubileesa-b; 2QJubilees; 4QJubileesa-h; 11QJubilees; Aramaic Levi Document). Concern for recovering the Jewish background of Jesus became increasingly paired with concern for mapping the diversity of Second Temple Judaism for its own sake, and the special place of “Pseudepigrapha” in both projects was solidified with the publication of Charlesworth’s two-volume anthology of translations, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (1983–1985); this anthology adopted a more expansive scope, even including materials that are much later than the stated focus on the period of “Christian Origins” (e.g. 3 Enoch). The scope is widened even further in the new More Old Testament Pseudepigrapha edited by Davila, Bauckham, and Panayotov (beginning 2013), which includes translations of a wealth of writings attesting the continued popularity of parabiblical literary production well into Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages. With more intensified scholarship on “Old Testament Pseudepigrapha” also came more criticism of the category. Scholars such as Robert Kraft (1994, 2001) questioned the habit of assuming that all such works were essentially Jewish, even despite the explicitly Christian/ Christianized forms in which some have been preserved (e.g. Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs). With more attention to so-called “Pseudepigrapha” has also come the recognition of the limits of modern ideas about authorship and forgery to describe their appeal to exemplary figures, as Najman has shown (2010). Whereas past research tended to relegate “Pseudepigrapha” to an intermediate status as “intertestamental,” “pre-Christian,” and “pre-rabbinic,” specialist research on the individual texts collected under this rubric has increasingly set them in their specific historical contexts as well as traced their reception. Today, scholars often lament the anachronism and eclecticism of the category and debate its continued usefulness. One of its most enduring functions, however, has been to point to 636

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the creative power of the biblical past, in the Second Temple period and beyond, as well as the continued vitality of the Second Temple Jewish literary heritage of Christianity, well into Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages.

Bibliography R. A. Kraft, “The Pseudepigrapha in Christianity,” in Tracing the Threads: Studies in the Vitality of Jewish Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. Reeves, EJL 6 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994), 55–86. R. A. Kraft, “The Pseudepigrapha and Christianity Revisited: Setting the Stage and Framing Some Central Questions,” JSJ 32 (2001): 371–95. ANNETTE YOSHIKO REED

Related entries: Canon and the Canonical Process; Pseudepigraphy; Testaments.

Pseudepigraphy Pseudepigraphy, lit. “false ascription/inscription,” or pseudonymous attribution, is the practice of attributing a text to a person who is not its real author, a frequent literary phenomenon in the Second Temple period. Writers often set new texts in ancient times and placed them in the mouths of ancient figures like Moses, Enoch, or Ezra, who become authoritative figureheads of specific genres of discourse. Pseudepigraphy as a practice is not to be confused with “Pseudepigrapha” as a corpus. The name “Pseudepigrapha” is a designation given to a broad range of nonbiblical texts from the Second Temple period, which have been collected in modern anthologies from Fabricius’ Codex Pseudepigraphus Veteris Testamenti (1713; see Reed 2009) through Charlesworth’s Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (1983–1985). Not all of the texts included in such collections are pseudonymously attributed, however; Charlesworth, e.g., includes several texts that have traveled together with the names of their authors (e.g. Aristobulus, Ezekiel the Tragedian). “Pseudepigrapha,” then, is an imprecise name for a fluid collection of non-biblical Second Temple materials, not all of which are actually pseudepigraphic (see Stuckenbruck 2012). Conversely, not all pseudonymous texts are found in collections of Pseudepigrapha. Many are found in the Apocrypha and in the biblical canon itself, including Deuteronomy, parts of Isaiah, the Psalms of David, and the Solomonic Proverbs and Song of Songs. Although “Pseudepigrapha” is a corpus of non-biblical literature, pseudepigraphy as a phenomenon exists both within and outside the canon. Some previously unknown pseudepigraphic texts were found among the Dead Sea Scrolls, most notably testament literature and visionary works in Aramaic, such as the Visions of Amram and Testament of Levi. The Qumran corpus also yielded early manuscripts of some pseudepigraphic works that had previously been known only in much later translations and recensions transmitted by Christian scribes and included in standard collections of Pseudepigrapha: this includes significant portions of 1 Enoch and Jubilees, which appear to have held significant authority at Qumran. Pseudonymous attribution takes a variety of forms, calling into question whether it is a single phenomenon or a number of distinct modes of framing literary works. Some texts originate anonymously and come to be attributed to an ancient figure secondarily over time, such as biblical Psalms with Davidic headings that later take on an authorial meaning (Mroczek 2016) as well as Solomonic Proverbs. Here, the figure whose name is secondarily linked with the text is external to 637

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the text itself (Vayntrub 2018). For others, like 4 Ezra or Psalm 151, the attribution is not secondary but a key part of the text’s creation; the figure is internal to the text as a speaker and central character. Some texts categorized as “pseudepigraphic” are placed entirely in the mouth of the pseudonymous “author” (1 Enoch, 2 Baruch, 4 Ezra), while others are third-person narratives that present revelations purportedly given to a particular figure but do not explicitly credit him with their own composition (e.g. Jubilees) (Stuckenbruck 2012). As Annette Reed writes, the “pseudonymous writer is not so much creator or author as tradent and guarantor” (Reed 2008: 477); pseudepigraphy does not always look like modern authorial attribution, but can include texts where an ancient figure acts as a major tradent, a first-person narrator, or as a figurehead of a literary genre. To understand the phenomenon, it is important to ask what motivated Second Temple authors to write in the names of others (Najman 2003; Wyrick 2004). The term “pseudepigraphy” sounds pejorative, calling to mind deception and forgery—passing off new texts as ancient revelation. But many scholars today prefer instead to see pseudepigraphy as a widespread literary practice in ancient contexts where ideas about the legitimacy of attribution were not the same as modern notions of authorship and intellectual property. One way to understand the practice of pseudepigraphy is as “discourse tied to a founder” (Najman 2003): writers who consider themselves part of a legacy or “school” connected with an authoritative figure would inscribe their creations into an existing literary tradition. They claim authority for their new creations by presenting them as genuine continuations of traditions already associated with characters like Moses or Ezra—just as Pythagorean texts continued to be written long after Pythagoras, carrying forward what their writers wanted to present as the founder’s legacy (Metzger 1972; Najman 2003; Stuckenbruck 2012). Pseudepigraphic attribution also creates a literary context for the reception of new instructions, warnings, or claims by building on existing characters and settings. The audience enters a recognizable world with an existing set of expectations, and, as Stuckenbruck writes (2012: 196), “the new messages the writer wishes to communicate are contextualized in relation to well-known ‘master narratives.’” Different genres come to be associated with different figures: Moses with law, Jeremiah with exile and lament, Enoch with heavenly secrets, and Ezra with community recovery. Placing new texts in old characters’ mouths also means the characters themselves are developed: e.g. the protagonist of 4 Ezra builds on some motifs associated with the biblical Ezra, such as community reconstruction and promulgation of Torah, but is a reimagined Job-like figure who undergoes radical spiritual transformation (Najman 2014). The production of such texts may also be motivated by an interest in these generative characters—in extending and enriching narratives about a favorite hero (Mroczek 2016: 51–85). Finally, attributing one’s work to a founding figure, rather than taking credit for it oneself, could be an act of humility, an attempt to efface one’s own identity in homage to an ideal figure (Metzger 1972; Najman 2003; Stuckenbruck 2012). Among Christian writers of late antiquity, the legitimacy of pseudepigraphic attributions was sometimes challenged and became a criterion for a text’s authoritative status (cf. Athanasius, Ep. 39). A poignant yet complex example of this was provided by Augustine: on the one hand, he questioned the authority of 1 Enoch on this basis (cf. The City of God 18.38), while, on the other hand, he recognized Wisdom of Solomon as authoritative even as he admitted that it was not Solomonic (The City of God 17.20). It remains that many pseudepigraphic texts were presented and received as revelation in the Second Temple period. The acceptance of “Enochic,” “Mosaic,” or “Davidic” texts may seem like an example of pre-critical credulity, but the most important function 638

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of pseudepigraphy for Second Temple writers and readers was perhaps not a positivistic claim about “who really wrote” a text but rather an honorific practice, a way of extending the legacy of a founding figure, and a method of framing new instructions and insights in familiar literary frameworks.

Bibliography B. M. Metzger, “Literary Forgeries and Canonical Pseudepigrapha,” JBL 91 (1972): 3–24. L. Stuckenbruck, “Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha,” in Early Judaism: A Comprehensive Overview, ed. J. J. Collins and D. C. Harlow (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 179–203. A. Y. Reed, “Pseudepigraphy, Authorship, and the Reception of ‘the Bible’ in Late Antiquity,” in The Reception and Interpretation of the Bible in Late Antiquity, ed. L. DiTommaso and L. Turcescu, BAC 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 467–90. J. Vayntrub, “Before Authorship: Solomon and Prov. 1:1,” BibInt 26.2 (2018): 182–206. J. Wyrick, The Ascension of Authorship: Attribution and Canon Formation in Jewish, Hellenistic, and Christian Traditions (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004). EVA MROCZEK

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Canon and the Canonical Process; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enochic Circles; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jubilees, Book of; Pseudepigrapha, “Old Testament”; Scribes and Scribalism; Writing.

Ptolemies Alexander the Great changed the ancient world with his introduction of Hellenism, which entailed the fusion of East and West as a new world order. After his death in 323 bce in Babylon, his empire was divided among his generals. The Seleucid Empire eventually went to Seleucos and Egypt was chosen by Ptolemy I Soter (Adams 2007: 38–50; see Map 4: Seleucids and Ptolemies [301–200 bce] and Map 5: Seleucids and Ptolemies [200–167 bce]). After Alexander’s escapades in the Persian Empire, Hellenistic kingdoms were established throughout southwest Asia, northeast Africa, and South Asia. This resulted in the export of Greek culture to new territories. These new kingdoms were also influenced by the indigenous cultures (Adams 2007: 28–29). The incursion of Greek speakers in regional cultures led to an Attic-based dialect, Koine Greek, which would become the lingua franca throughout the Hellenistic world (Braund 2006: 21). The phenomenon just described was strongly reflected in Ptolemaic Egypt. Kingship flourished there (Thompson 2006: 113), though it was apparently not a monarchy proper. Ptolemy I was regarded as a Macedonian pharaoh. The monarchy seems to have been family-based, so that the succession to the throne from one generation to the next was often smooth. However, sibling rivalry between the sons of Cleopatra I and III during the 2nd century bce created problems for the region (Green 1990: 525–46). Macedonian influence continued to make itself felt in the Egyptian court, as seen in the use of the title “friend” to denote an official who advised the king on important matters (Thompson 2006: 113). The Ptolemies ruled through a centralized administration that created political stability (Thompson 2006: 108). Surveys were conducted each year after the Nile’s flooding subsided. As attested, e.g., by the Zenon papyri (which include mention of the Jewish Tobiads in the Transjordan during the mid-3rd cent. bce), revenues were paid to meet the needs of the state (Grabbe 2008: 291–93). Later a poll tax, namely a salt tax, was added. The state was involved in

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all aspects of the Egyptian economy. The military also played a decisive role under the Ptolemies, contributing inter alia to their successes in the Syrian wars. Ptolemy I implemented a successful policy of settling soldiers on land as remuneration for their services (Thompson 2006: 108). As in ancient Egypt, religion under the Ptolemies was intertwined with the economic sphere (Murray 2008). Temple owners were landholders with extensive economic institutions, including cultic centers. Traditionally, the pharaoh had formed a link between the gods and the people. This situation prevailed under the Ptolemies, with Ptolemy II adding the newly created cult of his sister-wife, Arsinoë, as a temple-sharing goddess to all Egyptians (Green 1990: 137–54), a move that had considerable financial benefits. Though the temples had the freedom to run themselves, they always remained within the framework of the royal administration. The relative autonomy of temples allowed for a diversity that prevented a single form of Hellenistic religion from being practiced by a majority of Greeks (Míkalson 2007: 208). The ancient cultic functions of the priests in Egypt continued under the Ptolemaic rulers. The Rosetta decree, which was used to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics and was written in 196 bce to celebrate the coronation of Ptolemy V, reflects a relationship of mutual respect between the traditional priests and the Ptolemies (Thompson 2006: 113). Literature and arts were well-represented in Ptolemaic Egypt. The multicultural face of this region is reflected by the discovery there of papyri written in both Greek and Egyptian (Erskine 2006: 10), of which the trilingual Rosetta decree (hieroglyphic Egyptian, Demotic, and Greek) serves as a prime example. In addition, a wide range of artifacts from this period are found in many European museums (Thompson 2006: 114). Prominent Ptolemies.  Ptolemy I Soter (“savior”) (303–285 bce), son of Lagos, became the first satrap of Egypt. He inaugurated the longest lasting of the Hellenistic dynasties (Thompson 2006: 105). He was a polygamist, as was common in Hellenistic circles. Ptolemy II Philadelphus (285–246 bce) can be deemed an intellectual ruler (Murray 2008: 12). His name is connected to the origin of the Septuagint. He seems to be the first Ptolemy to marry his sister, Arsinoë I (Philadelphus “sister-loving”; Thompson 2006: 108). The city Ptolemais was named after him. He also built a naval fleet. During the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator (“father-loving,” 221–203 bce), who married the popular Arsinoë III, the so-called “ignorant rebels” interrupted the ruler’s building activities. As rebellion broke out, no taxes were paid in Thebes, and the Ptolemies lost control of Upper Egypt. However, control was regained in 186 bce (Thompson 2006: 115). This peace lasted for 30 years until Antiochus IV of Syria took advantage of strife between the two sons of Ptolemy V and was crowned as king in Memphis. The Syrians left Egypt when Rome intervened. Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator (“the father-loving goddess”) was crowned after the death of her father Ptolemy XII in 51 bce. She ruled successfully with her brothers, Ptolemy XIII and Ptolemy XIV, and her son, Ptolemy XV Caesar. She had a reputation as the lover of Julius Caesar. Later she married Mark Anthony, with whom she had three children. Ptolemaic history was characterized by ups and downs. After the successful reigns of the first two Ptolemaic rulers, the empire went into a downward spiral, with Palestine eventually coming under Seleucid control. There were occasional bright spots amidst the decline, such as the reign of Ptolemy IV, who won the fourth Syrian war (219–217) in the battle of Raphia (Thompson

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2006: 116). However, with the Romans appearing on the horizon, the Ptolemies no longer had a free hand to manoeuver. By the time Cleopatra VII died in 30 bce, all aspirations for a revival of the Ptolemaic empire came to an end.

Bibliography W. L. Adams, “The Hellenistic Kingdoms,” The Cambridge Companion to the Hellenistic World (2007), 28–51. D. Braund, “After Alexander: The Emergence of the Hellenistic World, 323–281,” A Companion to the Hellenistic World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 19–34. E. Erskine, “Approaching the Hellenistic World,” A Companion to the Hellenistic World, ed. G. R. Bugh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 1–16. P. Green, Alexander to Actium. The Historical Evolution of the Hellenistic Age (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990). J. D. Míkalson, “Greek Religion: Continuity and Change in the Hellenistic Period,” The Cambridge Companion to the Hellenistic World (2007), 208–22. O. Murray, “Ptolemaic Patronage,” in Ptolemy II Philadelphus and His World, ed. P. McKechnie and P. Guillaume, Mnemosyne 300 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 9–24. D. J. Thompson, “The Ptolemies and Egypt,” A Companion to the Hellenistic World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 105–20. JOHANN COOK

Related entries: Diodochi; Hellenism and Hellenization; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Seleucids; Syria; Tribute and Taxes.

Purification and Purity Scholars identify two primary modes of purity in Second Temple period Judaism, often designated ritual and moral purity (Klawans 2000), although extensions to genealogical contexts (Hayes 2002) and metaphorical usage (e.g. Feinstein 2014) are also attested. Ritual and Moral Impurity in the Hebrew Bible.  In the Hebrew Bible the states of ritual purity (ṭhrh, ‫ )טהרה‬and impurity (ṭmʾh, ‫ )טמאה‬are part of a symbolic system that regulates access to or contact with the Jerusalem Temple and related sacred places or objects. Such sancta can be approached by a ritually pure person or object, while this is inadmissible for an impure person or object. Unrelated to matters of hygiene, ritual impurity as described in Leviticus 12–15 arises from or is specified in relation to a number of aspects (Milgrom 1991: 742–1008): (a) it is associated with physical substances and states linked to death and sex (corpses, scale-disease of the skin; genital fluxes); (b) it is largely unavoidable and even, at times obligatory; (c) it is not in itself sinful (although failure to remove it and contacting sancta while impure are sinful); (d) it is contagious and transferred to persons and objects in various ways; (e) it is impermanent and removed by the passage of time, ablutions and/or rituals; and (f) it is classified into more and less severe types that defile various sancta and, if severe, some common (non-sacred) items. In Leviticus, ritual impurity is mostly divorced from an association with demons or evil spirits and primarily symbolizes that which is incompatible with or antithetical to the realm of the divine (mortality and sexual reproduction). Of special note are the dietary laws in Leviticus 11, according to which certain foods defile Israelites when consumed. No purification rituals for the latter defilement are prescribed.

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In contrast to ritual impurity, moral impurity in the Hebrew Bible (esp. Lev 18 and 20) arises from the commission of certain heinous sins, specifically idolatry, bloodshed, and sexual transgressions, which defile the sinner himself and a range of sancta including the land of Israel and the sanctuary. This type is not contagious (one does not contract impurity by touching a sinner), so that it is not generally removed by rituals of bathing, laundering and the like, but by punishment (which in severe cases includes death) or a process of repentance and atonement. Furthermore, moral impurity requires the sinner to bring a sacrificial offering to purge the sanctuary of the defilement caused by the sin. The Yom Kippur rite is designed to purge the sanctuary of the defilement caused by unrepented sins of the community at large. Land that is repeatedly defiled by sexual transgressions will eventually “vomit out” those who dwell upon it (a reference to exile; see Lev 18:25, 28; Milgrom 2000: 1514–90). A wide variety of purity concepts and practices drawing on these traditions and other customs were developed among different groups during the Second Temple period. Ritual Purity in the Second Temple Period.  The archaeological record shows that by the 1st century bce miqva’ot (ritual baths) appear and soon spread in both Israel and some diaspora communities; moreover, stone vessels impervious to ritual defilement were in high use. The most immediate and direct consequences of ritual impurity related to access to holy areas and the handling of consecrated food or objects. According to early rabbinic traditions, priests in Second Temple times were especially strict about the purity of the Temple: “If a priest served [at the altar] in a state of impurity, his fellow priests did not bring him to the court, but the young priests took him outside the Temple court and split open his brain with clubs” (m. Sanh. 9:6; cf. t. Kelim 1:6). The biblical requirement to expel severe impurity bearers from the holy camp was understood as referring not merely to the Temple Mount but to the area of Jerusalem (m. Kelim 1:8–9; Sif. Num 1). Similarly, no burials were permitted in Jerusalem; corpses could not remain in the city overnight. Impure persons were enjoined not to impart impurity to the people of Jerusalem, and rabbinic sources tell of leniencies to enable pilgrims to maintain the ritual purity required for pilgrimage festivals such as Passover (e.g. certain doubtful sources of impurity are presumed to be pure during the festival; see m. Šeqal. 8:1). Purity observance was important for reasons that extended beyond cultic access and the handling of sancta. In addition to biblical sanctions attending failure to purify from severe impurities regardless of proximity to the sanctuary, the larger Hellenistic milieu (in which, e.g., the impurity of corpses was avoided) encouraged the observance of purity rules by Jews. Indeed, certain groups voluntarily adopted the purity regulations of priests, striving even to eat ordinary food in a state of purity. Josephus (J.W. 2.129) relates that the Essenes immersed their bodies in cold water before communal meals at noon and in the evening. The immersion of so-called “morning bathers” was a daily practice unconnected with seminal impurity and opposed by the Pharisees (t. Yad. 2:9). Handwashing was a more common purity practice. New Testament sources attest to the Pharisaic practice of washing hands before consuming even ordinary (non-sacred) food (Mark 7:3–5; Luke 11:38; Matt 15:2 refers to washing the hands before a meal as a “tradition of the elders” though pouring water over the hands before a meal may have been influenced by a similar Greek custom [m. Yad. 1:2 and t. Yad. 1:12]). The debate attributed to the schools of Shammai and Hillel about the timing of the hand washing rite at ordinary meals suggests the rite was accepted practice in the 1st century ce (m. Ber. 8:2; but cf. t. Ber. 6(5):3 and Lieberman, 2002: 642

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ad loc.), though some Tannaitic sources indicate that only the pious considered hands impure for ordinary food (see e.g., m. Ḥag. 2:7; 3:2–3). One who eats ordinary food in purity is called a ḥaver in Tannaitic sources, and one who does not belong to the ‘am ha’aretz (t. ‘Abod. Zar. 3(6):10; t. Demai 2:2–3; t. Demai 2:20–22). By eating ordinary food in a state of purity required of priests eating sacred food, Pharisees and ḥaverim aspired to a higher level of holiness. Ritual purity was of central importance to the Qumran sect, whose distinctive approach may be contrasted with that of later rabbinic purity law. Klawans (2010: 382; cf. further Harrington 1993, 2004) lists the following notable features of Qumran purity law: the exclusion of sinners from the community’s pure food (1QS vi 24–vii 25 and CD A ix 16–23); the prohibition of sexual activity in the city of the sanctuary (CD A xii 1–2; 11QTa xlv 11–12) and the exclusion of the blind (1QM vii 4–5; 4QMMT B 49–54; 11QTa xlv 12–14) due to ritual impurity concerns; the notion (opposed in later rabbinic law) that ritual impurity lasts until sunset (4QMMT B 13–17; 11QTa xlv 9–10; xlix 19–21; li 2–5; cf. Tob 2:4–9); the use of my ndh (‫מי נדה‬, “waters of impurity”) for purification from defilements other than corpse impurity as biblically prescribed (1QS iii 4–5, 8–9; 4QṬohorot 277 1 ii 7–8). In addition, not only menstruants but all women were excluded from Jerusalem according to sectarian law (e.g. CD A xii 1–2; 4Q266 5 i 17), and a man with an emission of semen contracted an impurity for three days rather than one (11QTa xlv). The group’s emphasis on ritual purity has been attributed to its priestly and even apocalyptic orientation, but whether the disparate texts discovered at Qumran evince a coherent system of purity laws is debated. In recent years scholars have questioned the claim that the sectarian approach is consistently and maximally stringent. As Noam notes (2009), some sectarian purity rules, such as the defilement of the floor and roof of the house of the dead and the susceptibility of stone vessels to impurity, are straightforward inferences from Scripture that appear stringent only in comparison with the leniency of the later rabbis who exempt these items from defilement. Other stringencies, such as banishment of the menstruant and exclusion of all graves from cities, are not specific to the sect but reflect ancient halakah as attested by Josephus or archaeological findings. Moreover, at times sectarian law is more lenient than later rabbinic law (e.g. no serial transmission of impurity at Qumran while under rabbinic law some impurity can be transmitted to the fourth degree). A difficulty for assuming strict observance of ritual purity laws at Qumran is archaeological evidence from the site. Both the cemetery (containing approximately 1,000 graves) and the latrines (the sect deemed excrement to be ritually defiling) are located close to the ritual baths and pure food of the community, in violation of the regulations in the Temple Scroll. Perhaps the sectarian writings reflect an older ideology or legislate for the eschatological future; alternatively, the sectarians may have believed defilement was inevitable in the present age of sin and while committed to the performance of some purifications, were resigned to relinquishing others (Klawans 2010). Another distinctive feature of Qumran purity law (more evident in texts such as 1QS, 1QHa, and 1QM) is a tendency to conflate ritual and moral impurity by ascribing ritual defilement to those who have sinned, prescribing rituals of purification for those atoning for sinful deeds, and requiring repentance for ritual purification (Klawans 2000: 75). This conflation is noticeable in the exclusion of sinners from the pure meals of the community (e.g. a ten-day exclusion for those falling asleep during meetings and a one-year exclusion for those insulting another member; 1QS vi 24–vii 25). Outside Qumran, a partial conflation is apparent in John the Baptist’s deployment of immersion to cleanse the sinner from sin so that ritual purification effects moral atonement (Matt 3:5–6; Luke 3:3). By contrast, Jesus does not conflate the two, but clearly prioritizes moral purity over ritual 643

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purity, scandalizing the Pharisees by disregarding handwashing rituals and food rules (Mark 7:1– 15) and interacting with ritually defiled persons (Mark 2:16; Matt 9:11; Luke 5:30; 15:2). Conflation of ritual and moral impurity may have led the sectarians to attribute ritual impurity to all sinful outsiders—both other Jews and gentiles. Josephus remarks that the Essenes (often associated with the Qumran sectarians) bathed after contact with junior members “as after contact with an alien” (J.W. 2.150). Sectarian rules declare the property of gentiles to be defiling and prohibit the sale of pure birds, animals, and food to gentiles. However, these laws may be based on the fear that non-members and gentiles might have impure substances in their possession that would compromise the purity of others or might misuse pure animals and food. Thus, as in rabbinic law (m. Ter. 3:9; Sif. Emor 7:2; m. Šeqal. 7:6; m. Zebaḥ. 4:5; m. Menaḥ. 5:3, 6; 6:1; 9:8), there is no unambiguous evidence that the sectarians deemed gentiles to be intrinsically ritually impure in their constitution, rather than morally defiled by idolatry or other sinful behaviors (Klawans 1995). While rabbinic texts are consistent in asserting that gentiles are excluded from the ritual purity system of Leviticus 12–15 (e.g. Sif. Zavim 1:1, Sif. Tazria 1:1; m. Miqw. 8:3–4, m. Zabim. 2:1, 2:3, m. Nid. 4:3, m. ‘Ed. 5:1, cf. t. Nid. 5:5, 7:3), they do not explain the Second Temple period exclusion of gentiles from the Temple rampart as arising from either a derived or an intrinsic (i.e. non-derivative) ritual impurity, as some scholars have argued (Alon 1977). The lack of an intrinsic ritual impurity is evidenced by the fact that gentiles may separate terumah (m. Ter 3:9) and make sacrificial offerings and donations to the sanctuary (Sif. Emor 7:2, m. Šeqal. 7:6, m. Zebaḥ. 4:5, m. Menaḥ. 5:3, 5:6, 6:1, 9:8). Nevertheless, some rabbinic sources assert that gentiles bear a ritual impurity by special rabbinic decree (e.g. Sif. Zav 1:1) and some attribute that decree to Second Temple times (early 1st cent. ce; see p. Shab 1:7, 3c–d, b. Šabb. 17b and 36b), but the historical merit of this claim is thin. Rabbinic sources also state that sages in the Second Temple period (Yose b. Yoezer and Yose b. Yohanan of the 2nd cent. bce) decreed gentile lands to be ritually impure (cf. t. Parah 3:5, b. Šabb. 14b). This is likely due to scruples about the possible presence of bones, corpses, and graves (t. Ahilot 17:6–7, 18:1–5, 14–17; t. Kelim 7:1). A similar outlook may be reflected in the Temple Scroll, 11QTa xlviii 11–12, which states that gentiles bury their dead indiscriminately, i.e. “in every place and in their houses.”

Bibliography G. Alon, Jews, Judaism, and the Classical World: Studies in Jewish History in the Times of the Second Temple and Talmud (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1977). E. L. Feinstein, Sexual Pollution in the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). J. Klawans, “Notions of Gentile Impurity in Ancient Judaism,” AJS Review 20 (1995): 285–312. J. Klawans, Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). J. Klawans, “Purity in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” OHDSS (2010), 377–402. S. Lieberman, Tosefta ki-Feshutah: beʾur arokh la-Tosefta, 3rd printing. (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 2002). V. Noam, “Stringency in Qumran: A Reassessment,” JSJ 40 (2009): 1–14. CHRISTINE E. HAYES

Related entries: Burial Practices; Cemeteries (Qumran); Damascus Document (D); Death and Afterlife; Disability; Festivals and Holy Days; Hellenism and Hellenization; Holiness; Jesus Movement; Josephus, Writings of; Leviticus, Book of; Matthew, Gospel of; Medicine and Hygiene; Priesthood; Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS +5QS); Sacrifices and Offerings; Sexuality; Torah, Traditioning of; Sages.

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Quintilian

Quintilian The famous 1st-century ce Roman orator Quintilian is frequently cited in studies of anti-Semitism in the Hellenistic-Roman period. When discussing epideictic rhetoric, specifically invective in which the dead are vilified using the consequences of what they once accomplished, Quintilian makes a seemingly incidental comment about Judaism: “It is a disgrace to founders of cities to gather together a race pernicious to everybody else, as did the originator of the Jewish superstition” (Institutio oratoria 3.7.21). Here Moses is vilified for founding the Jewish race that then inhabited select quarters of major cities like Rome, Corinth, and Alexandria. Quintilian may be purposely dissociating himself from Judaism because his patron, Titus Flavius Clemens, was killed in 95 ce by his cousin, the anti-Semitic emperor Domitian. The charge was atheism, a charge often aimed at those associated with Judaism (Dio, Roman History 67.14). Titus was perhaps a Christian like his wife, Flavia Domitilla, and Domitian was not making fine distinctions between Judaism and Christianity when purging suspected rivals. Quintilian’s comment that Judaism is a superstition reflects a widespread anti-Semitism in the Hellenistic-Roman period. A negative viewpoint is evident in many period sources in forms ranging from isolated comments to sustained argumentation (Cicero, Pro Flacco 28.67; Martial, Epigrams 7). This anti-Semitism was fostered by a mix of true and false perceptions. It was erroneously understood that the Jews originated as leprous and diseased migrants from Egypt (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.229, 303–311; 2.20–27). In Quintilian’s time, Jews were mainly uneducated and poverty-stricken day laborers and artisans, a situation that did not give them much honor or social status (Daniel 1979: 51–54). Their poverty was a subject of Roman satire (Martial, Epigrams 12.57.13). Their beliefs and practices—including affirmation of one God, worship of God without images, Sabbath observance, circumcision, and abstention from pork (which gentiles both ate and sacrificed)—were at odds with the larger religious environment. Jewish exclusiveness stemming from their belief that they were the chosen people of God, and the recipients of revealed truth fostered the perception that they hated the human race (Horace, Sat. 1.4.143; Tacitus, Hist. 5.4–5; Plutarch, Vit. Civ. 7.5; Daniel 1979: 54–62).

Bibliography J. L. Daniel, “Anti-Semitism in the Hellenist-Roman Period,” JBL 98 (1979): 45–65. Quintilian (Marcus Fabius Quintilianus ), The Orator’s Education, ed. D. A. Russell; 5 vols. LCL 124–127, 494 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003). DUANE F. WATSON

Related entries: Cicero; Education; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Josephus, Writings of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Plutarch; Purification and Purity; Roman Emperors; Tacitus.

Qumran, Khirbet Located on a marl terrace close to the northwestern shore of the Dead Sea at ca. 338 m below sea level, 12 km (7 mi.) south of Jericho and 32 km (20 mi.) north of ʿEin-Gedi, the ruins of Khirbet Qumran were first identified as a (Roman) fort by 19th and early 20th century explorers (Figure 4.122). After the discovery of the first manuscripts from nearby cave 1Q in the winter of 1946/47 and Sukenik’s subsequent identification of their authors with the Essenes mentioned in

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Qumran, Khirbet

Figure 4.122  Aerial view of the ruins at Khirbet Qumran (facing southwest).

Philo, Pliny the Elder, and Josephus, however, the site became the archaeological backbone for the debate about those “sectarians” who wrote, used, and hid the “Dead Sea Scrolls.” Triggered by the appearance of scroll fragments on the market in 1947/48, initial explorations began in 1949, led by Father Roland Guérin de Vaux OP on behalf of the École Biblique et Archéologique Francaise and G. Lankester Harding from the Jordanian Department of Antiquities (Fields 2009). Systematic excavations in and around Qumran were carried out in 1951 and continued through 1953, 1954, 1955, 1956, and 1958. In 1958 de Vaux also excavated the small farmstead ʿEin-Feshkha in an oasis on the shoreline ca. 2.5 km (1.6 mi.) south of Qumran. Following an Iron Age II-fortification (ca. 800–580 bce), de Vaux detected three main phases of occupation: ●●

●●

●●

●● ●●

646

Ia: Essene settlement founded ca. 135 bce after a group of observants came into conflict with high priest Jonathan (152–135 bce), split from Jerusalem, and went into exile “in the wilderness”; Ib: Sectarian settlement expanded under Alexander Jannaeus (103–76 bce) until destroyed by an earthquake in 31 bce; abandonment by and exile of Essenes; II: Re-erection as fully fledged sectarian center under Herod Archelaos (4 bce/6 ce) and destruction in 67/68 ce by the attacking Romans; scrolls hidden in caves and abandoned (Figure 4.123); IIIa: A small Roman post until the end of the 1st century ce; IIIb: A reoccupation during the Second Revolt 132–135 ce.

Qumran, Khirbet

Figure 4.123  Khirbet Qumran: Schematic plan and position of loci in periods Ib and II.

Despite the fact that de Vaux only published preliminary reports and a popular synthesis of his excavations (Fr. 1961; Engl. 1973; Humbert, Chambon, and Pfann 2003) but never a full stratigraphic and material documentation of all finds and findings, his interpretation of the site and its “Essene” inhabitants became almost canonical and is—in one form or another—still accepted by the majority of scholars to this very day (e.g. Magness 2002; 2004). As more fragments from the vast amount of textual material have become available, and thanks to renewed research at the site (Magen, Peleg 2007) and the publication of de Vaux’s previously 647

Qumran, Khirbet

unpublished data, more doubts have been raised about de Vaux’s oversimplified and historically overvalued (Humbert 2013; Humbert, Chambon, and Mlynarcyk 2016) model. Many sites of various size and character had been explored in the decades after de Vaux (Rujm el-Bahr, ʿEin al-Ghuweir, Qasr el-Turabe, Khirbet Mazin; Callirhoe; Masada, Jericho) (Taylor 2012). Consequently, much of what had appeared “unique” and therefore “sectarian” to de Vaux actually turned out to be in-line with regional Late Hellenistic/Early Roman material culture (e.g. the cemetery, the “austerity” of pottery assemblage). It is now clear that at least by the beginning of the 1st century bce the Dead Sea shore between Jericho, ʿEin-Gedi, and Machaerus had been integrated into the Hasmonean kingdom and intensively used for specialized agriculture (date, balsam). Qumran, whoever inhabited it, was certainly not intentionally isolated but part of that region. De Vaux’s favored congruence between reconstructions of the history of the “Essene community” and the chronology and development of the site has become increasingly difficult to maintain (Collins 2010). Most scholars now accept that de Vaux’s 2nd-century bce phase Ia is elusive and that the settlement was instead built at the beginning of the 1st century bce (Mizzi 2014), i.e. at a time when the Hasmoneans firmly expanded their control to the territory beyond the Dead Sea. It is also doubtful that the earthquake of 31 bce affected Qumran and clearly separated two phases of habitation. Though there are indeed signs of rebuilding (reused walls and material in later phases), there is no consensus on when exactly this occurred and what this might imply regarding the character of the inhabitants (Magness: Essenes throughout; Humbert: first Hasmonean mansion, only after destruction around 60/50 bce did the site become a “sectarian” pilgrim settlement). The complex stratigraphic picture now emerging thanks to the long-awaited publication of the first volume of de Vaux’s material (Humbert, Chambon, and Mlynacyk 2016) certainly invites a reassessment of Qumran’s architectural development. In fact, the site seems to have been rebuilt continuously and in that process been enlarged and made increasingly complex until its final destruction in 67/68 ce, so that distinguishing separate “main phases” might in the end be difficult. Qumran was enclosed by a low perimeter wall and had a large cemetery to the east (ca. 1200 shaft tombs for individual or double burials are preserved). At least in its latest stage, the site had a very complex structure with defensive (tower [loci 8–11]) and industrial (pottery and metal workshop [loci 100–102, 104–107]) elements, many water installations (cisterns [locus 110], channels, aqueduct, pools [e.g., loci 56, 71, 117, 118]), living quarters, and various work spaces (e.g. loci 1, 2, 4, 30). Though the usual designation “monastery” is an anachronism for various reasons, the settlement’s layout does not easily fit the usual pattern of a village. With all its facilities and spaces, the main settlement likely served a wider region, itself perhaps being temporarily subject to the large Hasmonean and Herodian estate in Jericho (Humbert 2013; Humbert, Chambon, and Mlynacyk 2016). Though material culture at Qumran is not comparable to palaces like Jericho or Masada, it is not poor either. Pottery was manufactured on the site, metal was processed, and glass was available. Though scientific research on pottery provenience has not come to convincing results yet, Qumran seems to have been maintained trade contacts at least with Jericho and Jerusalem. The architectural development of the settlement is much more complex than de Vaux was prepared to admit and, though its Jewish character is beyond any doubt (stone vessels, regional lamps, some pools used as ritual baths [loci 48–49, 56, 71, 117, 118]), there is no material proof— not even the enigmatic animal bone deposits (found at locus 130)—that the site was exclusively or genuinely “Essene.” 648

Raphael

Much depends on how one explains the fact that the scrolls were found so close to the site. While the majority of scholars accept a genuine connection (i.e. the inhabitants made, used, and hid the scrolls), this is not the only option (Zangenberg 2010; 2011). The inhabitants could have assisted a variety of people bringing valuable scrolls from outside Qumran to protect them from the attacking Romans, and perhaps helped with their peculiar storage/transport vessels (“scroll jars” found in the settlement, 1Q, and 4Q). This, of course, would not exclude the possibility that the raw material of some scrolls had originally been produced somewhere along the Dead Sea as newer analyses suggest. The extremely fragmentary and arbitrary character of the preserved manuscript material and the lack of sufficient archaeological documentation that could illuminate the scrolls’ deposition, especially from 4Q, undermine any assumption that the “corpus” has been transmitted to modernity in a purposeful form. Now, with the publication of de Vaux’s long-awaited material and stratigraphic data beginning in 2016, the discussion of Qumran’s history and character is entering a new phase and is far from concluded.

Bibliography J.-B. Humbert, “Qumran,” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Archaeology, ed. D. M. Master, B.A. Nakhay, A. Faust, L.M. White, J.K. Zangenberg, vol. 2 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 203–12. J.-B. Humbert, A. Chambon, J. Mlynarcyk, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha. Fouilles du P. Roland de Vaux, Vol. IIIA: L’archéologie de Qumran. Reconsideration de l’interpretation, NTOA.SA 5A (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016). Y. Magen and Y. Peleg, The Qumran Excavations 1993–2004. Preliminary Report. Jerusalem 2007 (JSP 6); http:​//www​.anti​quiti​es.or​g.il/​image​s/sho​p/jsp​/jsp6​_qumr​an_co​lor.p​df. J. Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002). J. Magness, Debating Qumran. Collected Essays on its Archaeology (Leuven: Peeters 2004). D. Mizzi, “Qumran Period I Reconsidered. An Evaluation of Several Competing Theories,” DSD 21 (2014): 1–42. R. de Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls (London: British Academy, 1973). J. K. Zangenberg, ed. Das Tote Meer: Kultur und Geschichte am tiefsten Punkt der Erde (Mainz: Von Zabern, 2010). J. K. Zangenberg, “Zwischen Zufall und Einzigartigkeit. Bemerkungen zur jüngsten Diskussion über die Funktion von Khirbet Qumran und die Rolle einiger ausgewählter archäologischer Befunde,” Qumran und Archäologie (2011), 121–46. JÜRGEN K. ZANGENBERG

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Associations; Burial Practices; Cemeteries (Qumran); Cisterns and Reservoirs; Josephus, Writings of; Miqva’ot; Sectarianism.

Rabbis—see Sages (pt 4) Raphael Along with Michael and Gabriel, Raphael is one of the most prominent angels in Second Temple literature. He first appears in the Book of Tobit, where he is sent by God to ameliorate the plight of several characters in the story (3:16). His name means “God heals” (‫)רפא אל‬, and

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he is commissioned by God to heal Tobit’s blindness and alleviate Sarah’s distress after seven failed marriages. Disguising himself as Tobit’s kinsman Azariah (“Yahweh helps”), Raphael helps Tobiah to find a cure for his father’s blindness and to ward off the demon Asmodeus so he can take Sarah as his wife (5:4–11:13). At the end of the tale, the angel divulges his true identity to Tobit and his son, explaining that he is one of seven angels who stand before the glory of the Lord, bringing the prayers of supplicants before the Almighty. Raphael points out that he never ate food in Tobit’s presence but only appeared to do so, suggesting that angels are incorporeal by nature. Before he ascends to heaven, Raphael instructs Tobit and his son to write down all that has transpired (12:6–20). The legend of the angel Raphael grows throughout the Second Temple period, although healing and exorcism remain his primary functions. Raphael heals human beings of various diseases and wounds (1 En. 40:9); those healed include Noah, who receives a book of herbal remedies from the angel (Jub. 10:10–14). Raphael frequently appears as part of a quartet of archangels (1QM ix 15–16; 1 En. 71), joining Michael, Gabriel, and Sariel or Uriel in a number of activities, such as preparing the bodies of Adam and Abel for burial after their deaths (LAE 40:1–7). His power over demons remains supreme, and he banishes nine-tenths of all unclean spirits inhabiting the earth during the time of Noah (Jub. 10:10–14). He continues to exert power over Asmodeus and also tames the female demon Obyzouth, killer of infants, and the demon Oropel, who causes sore throats (T. Sol. 5:9; 13:6; 18:8). Raphael’s combined powers of healing and exorcism lead many Jews to include his name in magical incantations and on amulets to protect them from harm. Raphael is also a key figure in 1 Enoch, where he serves as one of the watchers over the earth and is put in charge of the spirits of human beings (20:2–7). Along with Michael and Gabriel, Raphael observes the antediluvian wickedness of humankind and informs the Lord of the nefarious deeds of both human and angelic creatures (9:1–11). He is commissioned by God to bind the fallen angel Asael and cast him into the darkness (10:4–7), and he plays a key role in the day of judgment, especially for renegade angels (54:6; see also Gk. Apoc. Ezra 6:1–2). He also helps welcome Enoch to the highest heaven and interprets one of his visions for him (1 En. 22, 71).

Bibliography M. Mach, “Raphael,” DDD (1995), 1299–300. F. V. Reiterer, T. Nicklas, and K. Schöpflin, ed. Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings: Origins, Development and Reception, DCLY 2007 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). GEOFFREY DAVID MILLER

Related entries: Angels; Ascent into Heaven; Disability; Healing; Magic Incantations and Bowls; Sickness and Disease; Tobit, Book of.

Repentance During the Second Temple period, concepts of repentance—e.g. remorse for sin, turning from evil, and positive concrete acts of doing good—burgeoned in the Jewish literature. A recent exploration of this topic (Lambert 2015) contains an argument that the origins of repentance, 650

Repentance

namely a repudiation of a past act, arise out of certain anti-Stoical inclinations within Hellenistic moral philosophical thought (μετανοέω, metanoeō) rather than out of the Hebrew Bible (particularly the usage of ‫שׁוּב‬, šûb). However, defining repentance with such an interior focus does not fully account for the evolutionary changes in meaning that concepts undergo through time and cultures; thus repentance cannot be so narrowly regarded as either retrospective mental action or as a cessation of sin. Regardless, the larger concept of repentance is pervasive in the late Second Temple literature. The discourse of repentance in the sectarian Qumran writings is multifaceted (Jason 2015: 240–53). The Qumran community, with its deterministic worldview, believed that both human and divine action had already been decided according to the divine plan (Arnold 2007: 170–71). Repentance consisted in turning away from the wickedness of the cult in Jerusalem and joining the new community (4QMMT C 7–8; 1QS viii 12–14). Another aspect of repentance in the Qumran community was the (re)turn to the sectarian law of Moses (1QS v 8; CD xv 9, 12). 1QS contains a penal code (1QS vi 24–vii 25) indicating that certain offenses could be ameliorated through repentance, though other offenses could not. The Qumran community expressed repentance through rituals (washing, communal confession, penitential prayers) and cultic acts, rather than through individual spirituality (1QS i 24–25; iii 1–9; 4Q434), though notions of individual repentance are found in other Second Temple literature (e.g. Ben Sira and the Prayer of Manasseh). The covenanters’ eschatology provided ample motivation for repentance (4QMMT C 13–22). Ben Sira’s teaching on repentance focuses upon individual application. For example, the son offered wisdom is told, “turn away from iniquity and corruption, and cleanse your heart from all sin” (Sir 38:10). The full complement of contexts in Sirach containing repentance ideas present a picture of repeated, active self-examination to induce personal recognition and renunciation of sin. The Prayer of Azariah (Dan 3:24–45) also emphasizes the individualistic aspect of repentance; the work makes a psychological advance in offering a repentant heart to God as a replacement for animal and produce sacrifice (Matlock 2012: 89–93). In its approximately 300 words, the Prayer of Manasseh, a text building on 2 Chronicles 33:13, contains a marked focus on repentance. The notion of repentance is embedded in creation (vv. 2–4) and serves as a function of conversion (vv. 7–8). The prayer text includes the stunning remark that God instituted repentance for sinners like king Manasseh to ensure their salvation, not for righteous people such as the patriarchs and their offspring (v. 8; contrast Ben Sira, who states that repentance exists to preserve the righteous). The penitential rhetoric in the Prayer of Manasseh comprises some of the most eloquent penitential phrases in all of the Second Temple literature. Jubilees and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs bear similarities in their views of repentance. As with many Qumran sectarian texts, the Book of Jubilees adds legal dimensions (Jub. 1:12, 15–16; 23:26) to concepts of repentance (Werline 1998: 110–15). Interestingly, in Jubilees, repentance is inscribed in the calendar: “It is written and it is ordained, ‘He will have mercy on all who return from all their error, once each year’” (5:18). The idea of turning entails mourning and pleading in order to demonstrate visible and physical validation (Jub. 41:24). This wording finds a parallel in the account of Reuben in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (T. Reu. 1:9–10) and his remorse regarding his sin with Bilhah. In both Jubilees and in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, repentance moves to fasting as the penitent seeks forgiveness 651

Resistance Movements

from the deity (see also Dan 9:3–4). Finally, the Testaments depict four of Jacob’s sons—Reuben, Simeon, Judah, and Gad—as contrite sinners and contain substantial treatments on repentance (T. Reu. 1:9–10; 4:3–4; T. Sim. 2:13; T. Jud. 19:2–4; T. Gad 5:6–8). As a Middle Platonist, Philo incorporates repentance into his philosophical framework (Winston 1995: 36–40). He considers repentance a virtue, but only secondary among virtues. Because impulsive desires inundate the soul faster than reason can dispel these desires, repentance is an irrational emotion, yet a continuous obligation (Flight, 157). Moses encourages repentance, Philo says, and assembles the Deuteronomy discourses as “exhortations to repentance” (Virt., 175–186). As in Joseph and Aseneth, Philo accredits the power to transform lives to metanoia. Repentance is an interior groaning or emotional pain brought about by a person’s sins that turns wrongs into virtues and knowledge (Alleg. Interp. 3.211–13); ultimately, repentance can turn a person from ignorance to knowledge, from sinfulness to righteousness, and from idolatry to Judaism. In stark contrast, Josephus often discusses repentance in the sense of pointless remorse, but not as a virtue (Ant. 2.23–28).

Bibliography R. Arnold, “Repentance and the Qumran Covenant Ceremony,” Seeking the Favor of God 2 (2007), 159–75. M. Jason, Repentance at Qumran: The Penitential Framework of Religious Experience in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015). D. Lambert, How Repentance Became Biblical: Judaism, Christianity, and the Interpretation of Scripture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). D. Winston, “Philo’s Doctrine of Repentance,” in The School of Moses: Studies in Philo and Hellenistic Religion in Memory of Horst R Moehring, ed. J. P. Kenney, Studia Philonica Monographs 1 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 29–40. MICHAEL D. MATLOCK

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Damascus Document (D); Daniel, Additions to; Determinism; Ethics; Faith and Faithfulness; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Penitential Prayer; Philo of Alexandria; Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS +5QS); Sacrifices and Offerings.

Resistance Movements Resistance movements are organized efforts to resist an ideology, a culture, a ruling power, or an identity that is perceived as dominant, external, or foreign (on definitional alternatives, see Portier-Young 2011: 3–10). They are “political” in a broad sense. The clearest examples of resistance movements in Second Temple Judaism are those reflecting Jewish opposition to occupying Hellenistic and Roman rulers. Whether and what kind of resistance to the Seleucids in the first half of the 2nd century bce was warranted or justified was a matter of debate within Judaism. Some Jews counseled accommodation, compromise, and integration with Hellenistic culture, language, and religion (for such an attitude, cf. 1 Macc 1:11–15, 41–43). Others promoted fierce resistance, whether nonviolent (e.g. Daniel; 1 En. 6–16; 93:1–10 + 91:11–17; Portier-Young 2011: 280–345) or violent (e.g. 1 Macc 2:42–48). A wide variety of opinions existed among resistance movements on issues ranging from what, exactly, was being resisted to how that resistance should be offered. The most famous and influential of these was the Maccabean resistance movement in the 2nd century bce, which resulted in the establishment of the Hasmonean dynasty. 652

Resistance Movements

Whether banditry or general lawlessness should be included in “resistance movements” depends on whether one assesses the evidence from a position of power. Banditry, though a significant problem for Roman law and order, was largely unprincipled. Thus, it probably should not be considered a resistance movement, even though it represented a form of lawlessness (contra Isaac 1992) and the Romans would have seen little meaningful distinction between the two (Stegemann and Stegemann 1999: 170). Also, spontaneous mass protests hardly count as resistance movements. Examples of the latter include the impressive mass protest in the streets of Caesarea Maritima in 26 ce when Jews expressed their strong opposition to Pilate’s placing of standards with the image of Caesar in the Jerusalem Temple. They gathered in the streets for five days to implore him to remove them. According to Josephus, when Pilate threatened them with the sword, the people threw themselves on the ground and exposed their necks, expressing their readiness to accept death rather than to transgress the law (Josephus, J.W. 2.169–174; Ant. 18.55–59; Stegemann and Stegemann 1999: 170–86). Shocked and perplexed at this response, Pilate had the standards removed. Another spontaneous protest occurred near the beginning of the First Jewish Revolt against Rome. According to Josephus, in 66 ce, a Roman soldier who was part of a cohort assigned to keep order during the festivals started a riot when he mooned the pilgrims coming into Jerusalem for the Feast of Unleavened Bread. The ensuing violence resulted in the death of 10,000 pilgrims (Josephus, J.W. 2.223–227). The Hasidim represent an example of a resistance movement that was more organized. They were a group of warriors who offered resistance to the Hellenistic programs and forces of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. How much more can be said about these Hasidim and what points of connection they might have had with the Maccabees or with other groups designated “Hasidim,” both within and outside of the Maccabean literature, is unclear. The Hasidim were not the only example of a resistance movement in the years of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. Resistance to the Seleucids was diverse (Johns 2007). First Maccabees praises the decision of the Maccabeans to repudiate nonviolence (1 Macc 2:39–48). Indeed, the final testament of Mattathias in 1 Maccabees 2:49–68 seems designed to articulate the author’s theological ethics and his rhetorical program in the book. In this testament, Mattathias lauds the virtue of zeal (vv. 50, 54, 58; cf. also vv. 24–27) and carefully connects it with taking vengeance (vv. 67–68) and with keeping the law of Moses (1 Macc 2:50, 58, 64, 67–68). What Josephus calls the “fourth philosophy”—sometimes associated with Zealotism, though Josephus himself reserves that term for the last two decades before the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce—represented the philosophical platform for various short-lived resistance movements to Rome. How unified or diverse the movements themselves were has been a matter of significant debate (e.g. Hengel 1989). One of the short-lived movements that was inspired by this passion for resistance and which in turn further inspired the Zealot impulse was that led by Judas the Galilean in 6 ce. As Josephus himself implies, it is probably best to consider the Zealot impulse to be a marginal, unorganized “philosophy” that occasionally bubbled to the surface from the 2nd century bce to the 1st century ce in actual resistance movements, whether long-lived (e.g. the Maccabeans/ Hasmoneans) or short-lived (e.g. Judas the Galilean), rather than a unified movement. Simon, one of Jesus’ disciples, is called a “Zealot” in Luke 6:15. While Josephus probably claims too much when he says that Judas the Galilean “founded” the fourth philosophy, modern scholars probably 653

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claim too much when they deny that the fourth philosophy existed in some recognizable form between the Maccabean Revolt and 50 ce. The four “books” regarded as Maccabean literature date from different centuries and different areas in the Ancient Near East; even so, they are united primarily by their rhetorical support for resistance. Resistance movements sometimes had little to do with political control over a region. The Palestinian Jesus Movement itself qualifies as a resistance movement, just as the Qumran Essenes represented a resistance movement against the hegemonic priesthood in Jerusalem (cf. 4QMMT). The distinctions common in modern discourse between political, religious, and social-revolutionary resistance movements are largely missing from late Second Temple Judaism.

Bibliography B. Isaac, “Banditry,” ABD 1 (1992): 575–80. L. L. Johns, “Identity and Resistance: The Varieties of Competing Models in Early Judaism,” in Qumran Studies: New Approaches, New Questions, ed. M. T. Davis and B. A. Strawn (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 254–77. LOREN L. JOHNS

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Hellenism and Hellenization; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, First Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Persecution, Religious; Procurators; Romanization; Roman Emperors; Roman Governors; Sicarii; Zealots.

Restoration Restoration in the context of Second Temple Judaism generally refers to the return of exiled Jews originally narrated in the Hebrew Bible. In 539 bce, King Cyrus of Persia defeated Babylon and gained control of various lands and peoples previously under Persian rule, including Judah (Yehud). That same year Cyrus issued an edict, partially preserved on the Cyrus Cylinder (Finkel 2013; Lipschits and Oeming 2003), in which he rescinded the Babylonian deportation and allowed all conquered and exiled peoples to return to their homelands to rebuild their cities and temples. The biblical versions of this edict refer only to the Jews’ right of return (Albertz: 2003: 112–131; cf. 2 Chr 36:22–23; Ezra 1:2–4). As recorded in the 5th century bce books of Ezra and Nehemiah, the return from captivity occurred in stages, though later biblical authors “remember” one mass return. The biblical records of the migrations contain gaps and discrepancies that make it difficult to reconstruct historical events pertaining to the return (Grabbe 2015: 292–307). For instance, whereas Ezra 1 identifies the Davidic leader of the first wave of returnees as Sheshbazzar, in Ezra 2:2, the author names the Davidic leader Zerubbabel (cf. also Hag 1–2 and Zech 4). Although these Davidic figures were important during early stages of the rebuilding effort, the priest Jeshua is also recognized as a key co-leader of the restoration (e.g. Ezra 5:2; Hag 1:14; Zech 4:14). The rebuilding of the Jerusalem Temple was slow and occurred incrementally due to delays and conflicts with those people who had remained or settled in the land during the exile (Ezra 4; Neh 1:1–3; Hag 1:1–5; cf. Blenkinsopp 1988: 105–30; Fried 2006: 123–46); ultimately, the restoration program was undertaken by Jews returning from the exile, not by “the people of the land” (Bedford 2001: 264–91). According to Ezra, authorization for the various stages of the rebuilding of the Temple 654

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was given during the reign of three Persian kings: Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes. However, the actual completion of the Second Temple likely occurred around 515 bce under Darius (Ezra 6:14–15), with, perhaps, some expansion of the Temple or continued rebuilding of Jerusalem under Artaxerxes in the mid-5th century. Events during the rebuilding of the Temple helped propel a transition of the peoples’ religious identity from that of Yahwism as reflected in its ancient Israelite religious roots to the emergence of Judaism(s) (Becking 2011). From the time of Alexander the Great’s conquests until the Bar Kokhba revolt, most Jews appear to have fully accepted the Second Temple as the place of God’s presence and thus their venerated cultic center (e.g. Sirach; 1 and 2 Maccabees). However, a number of other Second Temple writings harbor the hope that something more climactic lay ahead. Hope for an eschatological restoration of Israel was expressed in a wide variety of ways (Fuller 2006). The Book of Tobit (ca. 200 bce) expresses dissatisfaction with the Second Temple restoration (Fitzmyer 2003: 329). The author anticipates a future epoch that will involve such features as a return of all Jews from “exile,” the rebuilding of Jerusalem, a third Temple, and the conversion of the nations (14:5–7). In the wake of the Seleucid persecution and Maccabean revolution (167–164 bce), the author of the Animal Apocalypse in 1 Enoch (chs. 85–90) envisions the imminent and divine implementation of the eschatological restoration of Israel (Nickelsburg 2001: 402–8). In the author’s view, the Second Temple will be replaced with a divinely constructed third one; all Jews will return to Jerusalem, the gentiles will be defeated, and those who survive will pilgrimage to the land to worship God (90:28–36). In a subsequent stage of restoration, the same author foresees the installation of an Adamic leader who will preside over all creation and one united people (90:37–39). The author of Daniel 7–12 (ca. 165 bce) understands the recent capture of Jerusalem and the rededication of the Temple as eschatological events resulting from a divine judgment that will soon give way to the kingdom of God. However, the writer remains ambiguous with regard to the full content of this new age. According to Daniel 12:2–3, the age of restoration shall climax in a resurrection of the dead, eternal life for the righteous, and shame and contempt for sinners. Some authors expect a messianic figure or figures to play an important role in Israel’s future restoration. In Psalms of Solomon 17, a Davidic messianic figure will play a central role in restoring Israel to an ideal state. He will defeat her enemies and lead Jews back to the land to worship around an exalted Temple. In some Qumran documents (e.g. 4QDa [4Q266] 10 i 12; CD A xiv 19, B xx 1; 1QS ix 9–11) two messianic figures (the Messiahs of Aaron and Israel) are expected to lead Israel into an age of restoration that culminates in the implementation of the Torah as understood and interpreted by that priestly community at the Dead Sea (Collins 2010: 74–101). Some references to eschatological restoration, such as in the Apocalypse of Weeks of 1 Enoch, also envision a third Temple that will be followed by a climactic age, which is described as a new creation (91:13–17; Stuckenbruck 2007: 62–152). In the aftermath of the destruction of the Second Temple, 4 Ezra understands the “lost” ten tribes of the northern kingdom to be those that will be restored; until the final age, the text claims, they had taken refuge in “another land.” Ezra describes Israel’s restoration in terms of a messiah who will defeat the nations, the appearance of a heavenly New Jerusalem, and the regathering of the ten tribes (13:40–49; cf. also 2 Baruch 82–85). In conclusion, while most Jews regarded the building of the Second Temple to be the prominent feature of their expectations of restoration, others anticipated a still greater restoration in the 655

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future. This hope entailed a variety of features, including the establishment of an exalted or new Temple or even an entirely New Jerusalem, the return of all Jews to the land, and the arrival of a messiah or messiahs. Some anticipated a gentile pilgrimage to Jerusalem to worship the Jewish God, the comprehensive implementation of the Torah, and/or a new creation of heaven and earth.

Bibliography B. Becking, Ezra, Nehemiah, and the Construction of Early Jewish Identity, FAT (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). I. L. Finkel, The Cyrus Cylinder: The Great Persian Edict from Babylon (London: I.B. Taurus, 2013). L. S. Fried, “The ‘Am Hā’āretz in Ezra 4:2,” in Judah and the Judaeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschitz and M. Oeming (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 123–46. L. Grabbe, “The Reality of the Return: The Biblical Picture versus Historical Re-Construction.” In Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. J. Stökl and C. Waerzeggers (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 292–307. MICHAEL E. FULLER

Related entries: Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Babylonian Culture; Covenant; Cyrus the Great; Daniel, Book of; David; Ezra; Ezra, Book of; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Messiah; Nehemiah, Book of; Sin.

Resurrection The term “resurrection” refers to a diverse range of beliefs that envision God’s eschatological restoration of life to the dead. While the deeper structures of revivification from death were already extant in earlier Israelite prophecy (Isa 24–27, 65–66; Ezek 37:1–14), early Judaism increasingly literalized such precedents: More than a metaphor for the history of the nation, resurrection became a hope of salvation for the literal dead. The hope is featured in a range of literary genres and even among movements that were otherwise opposed. Given this distribution, beliefs about resurrection were conceptually diverse. They differ in matters of detail concerning what resurrected embodiment might be like. Some insist on continuity with present human embodiment, while others emphasize transformation into a more transcendent mode of existence. Their assumptions regarding the cosmic-spatial locale where eschatological life would be lived out vary considerably. Notions of who, precisely, would participate in resurrection also vary between different sources. Resurrection flourished within a diverse arena of attitudes toward the afterlife, in which it represented a more insurgent, controversial theodicy. All the major literary apocalypses attest resurrection (portions of 1 Enoch, Daniel, 4 Ezra, 2 Baruch), with the Book of Watchers registering the earliest evidence (1 En. 1–36). Enoch’s cosmic tour in chs. 20–36 locates a western mountain at the ends of the earth where the spirits of all the dead will be confined “until the great judgment.” The vision implies that some spirits will be raised from this interim cosmic domain for further punishments and rewards, while others will not (22:13). It is possible that the ensuing vision of chs. 24–25 further describes the eschatological life that will await the righteous on earth in a renewed Jerusalem. These visions establish a literal belief in resurrection within the late 3rd century bce and prior to the martyrdoms of the Maccabean revolt. This early expression of resurrection, thus, depends less upon the particular political crisis of the revolt and more upon a larger “cultural trauma” (Collins 1999) that Near Eastern cultures experienced in the expansion of the Hellenistic empires. Resurrection 656

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remained significant within subsequent Enochic literature, including the Epistle of Enoch (cf. 1 En. 91:10; 92:3; 103:4; 104:1–2) and the Similitudes (1 En. 50:1–2), each of which exhibits its own moderate conceptual variations. During and after the revolt, resurrection flourished in an increasing range of compositions. In Daniel 7–12, resurrection exalts a select group of “wise” teachers from “the land of dust” into an existence in which they “shall shine like the brightness of the sky … like the stars forever and ever” (12:3; NRSV). The prophecy may anticipate a literal astral existence, or it may express figuratively the restored heavenly/angelic authority that awaits the resurrected “wise.” A group of the wicked would also be raised for a judgment of “shame and everlasting contempt” (12:2; NRSV). Resurrection appears to have featured among the eschatological teachings that inspired “the wise” to their resistance against the Hellenistic reform; and it remained crucial to the sophisticated explorations of theodicy undertaken after the Temple destruction in 4 Ezra (ch. 7) and 2 Baruch (chs. 49–51). The Dead Sea Scrolls attest to the continuing relevance of resurrection in the generations following the Maccabean revolt. While the so-called “sectarian” Scrolls offer few clear references to resurrection, at least two compositions of unknown provenience attest its reception. Inspired by scriptural promises (Isa 51:14, 61:1; Ps 146:5–9), the Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521) declares the “wondrous things” that God will do for the dejected faithful: “For he will heal the slain, and the dead he will cause to live, to the poor he will bring glad tidings ….” Pseudo-Ezekiel (4Q385) also includes resurrection among the theological motifs that it integrates into its creative rewriting of Ezekiel 37:1–14. Both works reveal that a sophisticated interpretive culture shaped the discourse of resurrection in early Judaism, as scribal circles found within earlier prophecy the oracles that inspired their hopes in a literal renewal of life. Among “sectarian scrolls,” the Thanksgiving Hymns reveal how the discourse of resurrection could metaphorically express the currently realized religious experience of purification and enlightenment in heavenly wisdom (1QHa XI 20–23). Historical narratives also reference resurrection. While 1 Maccabees is silent, 2 Maccabees exhibits a graphically physical resurrection of the martyrs that would restore the very members of their mutilated bodies “to an everlasting renewal of life” (7:9). Pseudo-Philo’s Liber antiquitatum biblicarum also integrates resurrection into its rewriting of scriptural history (3.10). Resurrection probably underlies several passages of Josephus (J.W. 2.153–154, 163; 3.374; Ant. 18.14), even if he has also translated the hope into the categories of Hellenistic philosophy. Resurrection remained an important apocalyptic belief that was reinterpreted within emerging Pharisaic-Rabbinic theology. While the Mishnah insists upon a basic affirmation of “revivification of the dead,” it remains noncommittal concerning any specific conception of resurrection (m. Sanh. 10:1). The nascent church, however, embarked upon a more problematic journey, as it became invested in the technicalities of Christ’s own risen body (e.g. 1 Cor 15:35–53). In subsequent Christianity, particular beliefs about resurrection would increasingly become issues of orthodoxy and heresy among competing groups (Tertullian, Res.; Setzer 2004).

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “The Afterlife in Apocalyptic Literature,” in Judaism in Late Antiquity, Volume Three, Part Four: Death, Life-after-Death, Resurrection, and the World-to-Come in the Judaisms of Antiquity, ed. A. Avery-Peck, J. Neusner, and B. Chilton, Handbook of Oriental Studies: Section 1, The Near and Middle East 49 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 119–39. 657

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C. D. Elledge, Resurrection of the Dead in Early Judaism 200 bce-ce 200 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017). CASEY D. ELLEDGE

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Daniel, Book of; Death and Afterlife; Eschatology; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Ezekiel, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Maccabees, Second Book of; Martyrdom; Tertullian.

Revolt, Maccabean (167–140 bce) For centuries of Persian, Ptolemaic, and Seleucid rule Judeans had apparently been content without political independence—until their religious persecution by the Seleucid king Antiochus IV Epiphanes (175–164 bce) and his defilement of the Jerusalem Temple drove them to armed revolt, the Maccabean revolt. This revolt eventually led to the establishment of an independent state ruled by the dynasty established by the Maccabees, known as the Hasmoneans. This independent state—which, unlike its biblical predecessor, was headed by priests—was short-lived, lasting approximately 80 years (ca. 140–63 bce). However, this achievement had a great impact on Judaism, both internally, on its evolution, and externally, on its interaction with Hellenism and the non-Jewish world in general. There is an abundance of sources about the revolt; these primarily include the First and Second books of Maccabees, the Book of Daniel (esp. ch. 11), and both of Josephus’ historical works (J.W. 1.31–53; Ant. 12.234–13.214, though the latter mainly rewrites 1 Maccabees). Nevertheless much remains unknown or debated, particularly the background and causes of the persecution, and it is these areas that are crucial for understanding the revolt itself. Background and Causes.  Knowledge about the background comes mostly from 2 Maccabees. Chapters 4–5 report that shortly after taking the throne in 175 bce Antiochus, in return for a bribe, deposed the high priest Onias and appointed his brother, Jason. Jason then began a policy of hellenization in Jerusalem (e.g. the establishment of a gymnasion and an ephebeion). Later, in 172 bce, Jason was outbid and replaced by Menelaus, who was not of the high-priestly family. This intervention in the Jerusalem Temple was in accordance with a Seleucid policy of gaining (monetary) control over temples in their territory, as attested in a recently discovered inscription (Cotton and Wörrle 2007; Gera 2009). A few years later, following a campaign against the Ptolemaic kingdom, Antiochus sacked Jerusalem, plundered some of the Temple treasures, and perpetrated a massacre (1 Macc 1:20– 28; 2 Macc 5:1–21; Figure 4.124). Scholars debate whether he did so twice, once after each of two campaigns to Egypt (169 and 168 bce), as Daniel seems to attest (11:28–30), or only after the second campaign, explicitly mentioned in 2 Maccabees (5:11–26). Shortly thereafter Antiochus sent an army led by Apollonius, “the Mysarch,” who cunningly entered the city and massacred many of its inhabitants. The Seleucids then built a heavily fortified fortress, the Akra, in Jerusalem; its exact location is much debated. Formal religious persecution began in 167 bce. The Torah was declared illegal and its observance punishable by death, the Temple was rededicated to Zeus, and Judeans were forced to offer sacrifices to Dionysus and eat pork (1 Macc 1:29–64; 2 Macc 5:24–26; 6:1–11). Such religious persecution by a polytheistic culture is very unusual and has been the cause of much scholarly debate. Following two prominent scholars, current scholarship tends to focus on 658

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Figure 4.124  The Dead Sea text in 4Q248 is often thought to describe Antiochus IV’s conquest of Jerusalem (Eshel 2008: 14–19). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

the rift within Jewish society: Bickerman (1979; 2007: 2.1033–46) argued that the persecution was initiated by the hellenizers, led by Menelaus, in order to “reform” Judaism and integrate it into the new Hellenistic world. Tcherikover (1959) accepted the inner-Judean focus, but argued for political, rather than religious, motivation. He rightfully pointed to a brief report in 2 Maccabees about disturbances in Jerusalem prior to the persecution (5:5–15), during Antiochus’ humiliating retreat from Egypt in 168 bce, and to the fact that even after Antiochus took the city and massacred many of its inhabitants Apollonius still had to take the city by trickery, thus implying that once again it was not in Seleucid hands. Tcherikover argued that these uprisings were led by those faithful to the Torah who opposed Hellenism, and therefore, because the Torah was at the heart of their rebellion, Antiochus initiated the religious persecution in order to put a final end to their recurrent uprising (Tcherikover 1959: 175–203). Course of the Revolt. While Judean reactions to the persecution were diverse—happy acceptance, reluctant compliance, flight, refusal and death, martyrdom—the most notable and

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Figure 4.125  Large stone structure excavated at the site of Horbat Ha-Gardi (near modern Modi’in). Griffin Aerial Imaging, courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

historically significant reaction was rebellion. According to 1 Maccabees the fire of rebellion was kindled in Modein, the hometown of the Hasmoneans and their future burial place (see Map 6: Maccabean Revolt [167–160 bce]). Its location is uncertain, though some believe that the burial place of the Maccabees has been excavated at the site of Hortbat ha-Gardi (Figure 4.125, for this and further recent proposals see Weksler-Bdolah and Onn 2014; Zissu and Perry 2015) When the Seleucids tried to persuade its inhabitants to participate in pagan sacrifice, Mattathias, the head of the family, refused and zealously killed a Jew who acquiesced, along with the presiding Seleucid officer. Mattathias and his sons then fled to the mountains, assembled fighters, and began destroying places of pagan worship and fighting the hellenizers. Mattathias died shortly thereafter (ca. 166 bce) and the leadership of the rebels passed to the hands of his son Judah, nicknamed “Maccabeus,” the meaning of which is uncertain (1 Macc 2:15–3:9). Initial guerilla warfare soon turned into actual military battles against Seleucid military units. The rebels enjoyed continued success despite increasing Seleucid efforts to crush the revolt. Following victories in four major battles—against armies led by (1) Apollonius, whose sword Judah took and used in subsequent battles; (2) Seron, whom the Maccabees defeated at the Beth Ḥoron passage (see Bar-Kochva 1976); (3) Gorgias, at Emmaus; and (4) Lysias, at Beth Tzur—Judah and his brothers were able to take control of the Temple, which they purified and rededicated on the 25th day of the month of Kislev (December) 164 bce, an event commemorated to this day by the annual festival of Hanukkah (1 Macc 3–4; 2 Macc 10:1–8). Apparently, however, Menelaus remained high priest. 660

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Meanwhile, Antiochus died in the East (at the end of 164 bce), and with his heir Antiochus V still a child, Lysias was made regent (1 Macc 6:1–17; 2 Macc 9, 10:10–11). Soon afterward, at the height of the Maccabees’ success, the rebels experienced a major setback. In 162 bce Lysias attacked again, and in the battle at Beth Zachariah, Eleazar, one of Judah’s brothers, was crushed under a war elephant. Lysias retook Beth Tzur and besieged the Temple. However, Lysias then learned that Phillip, one of Antiochus Epiphanes’ “friends,” had returned to Antioch and claimed that Antiochus had given him charge of the kingdom. Lysias therefore decided to make peace with the Judean rebels, canceled the religious persecution, and left for Antioch (1 Macc 6:28–63; 2 Macc 13:9–26). This is the first of several instances where the Maccabees advanced thanks to internal troubles in the Seleucid court. The revolt did not end here, although its goals were seemingly achieved (see e.g., 1 Macc 2:19–22). Demetrius I, son of Seleucus IV, took the Seleucid throne (162 bce), and one Alcimus (who had been made the high priest after the death of Menelaus) along with other Judeans now asked Demetrius for aid against the Maccabees. Demetrius sent Bacchides to “hand over the country to Alcimus,” and later sent a very large army led by Nicanor against Judah. Against all odds Judah won a resounding victory and Nicanor was killed in the battle on the 13th day of Adar, 161 bce, which was pronounced an annual holiday, “the Day of Nicanor” (1 Macc 7; 2 Macc 14–15; cf. the Pharisaic Megillat Taʿanit [Scroll of Fasting], in the entry for that date). This victory saved the Temple, and the pre-persecution conditions were restored, at which point 2 Maccabees concludes its story. The saga of the Maccabees continues in 1 Maccabees. Though Judah signed a treaty with Rome (ch. 8), Demetrius again sent Bacchides with a large army, and Judah’s army suffered a heavy defeat in which Judah himself was killed (160 bce; 9:14–22). The rebellion now seemed almost lost, and the remaining Maccabean rebels, who were now led by Judah’s brother Jonathan, soon had to flee across the Jordan. In the meantime, Bacchides strengthened the Seleucid hold over Judea (9:23–54). Though Alcimus soon died (159 bce; 9:55–57), it is unknown whether a new high priest was appointed. In fact, not much is known about the next several years, except that Bacchides soon reached a truce with the Maccabees, and over the next few years Maccabean influence in Judea gradually grew (9:58–73). The sources resume the story in 152 bce, at which time a new claimant (or pretender) to the throne, Alexander Balas, was challenging Demetrius. Both rivals sought support from the Hasmoneans; therefore Demetrius allowed Jonathan to return to Jerusalem, and Alexander appointed him high priest (1 Macc 10). From this point forward the Maccabees were able to extend their power and control over Judea, often by playing their political cards wisely between various rival claimants to the Seleucid crown. Finally, when in 142 bce Jonathan was captured and executed by another such claimant, Tryphon (1 Macc 12:39–13:30), the last Maccabean brother, Simon, took the reins, and by 140 bce established independence for the Jewish state. He and his sons were recognized as high priests as well as the political and military leaders of Judea in “a great assembly” of the Judeans (1 Macc 14:25–49).

Bibliography B. Bar-Kochva, “Sēron and Cestius Gallus at Beith Ḥoron,” PEQ 108 (1976): 13–21. S. Weksler-Bdolah and A. Onn, “Modi’in: Hometown of the Maccabees,” BAR 40.2 (2014): 24–36.

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B. Zissu and L. Perry, “Hasmonaean Modi’in and Byzantine Moditha: A Topographical-Historical and Archaeological Assessment,” PEQ 147 (2015): 316–37. NADAV SHARON

Related entries: Festivals and Holy Days; Gymnasium; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Idols and Images; Josephus, Writings of; Judas Maccabeus; Megillat Taʿanit (Scroll of Fasting); Oniads; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Persecution, Religious; Pharisees; Priesthood; Seleucids.

Revolt, First Jewish (66–73/74 ce) The Jewish Revolt against Rome (66–73/74 ce) represents a complex amalgam of events and relations that, in various ways and with great impact, affected Jewish and Roman history as well as the history of Jewish-Christian relations (Goodman 2007; Mason 2016; see also Popović and Vandenberghe 2017). The revolt and its suppression caused a disruption of Judean society, and Jews outside of Judea were also affected (fiscus Iudaicum; see below). The Jerusalem Temple was destroyed, ending the sacrificial cult; some major sites were thoroughly devastated; people were killed or enslaved. The accounts of the Jewish priestly aristocrat and historian Flavius Josephus (37–ca. 100 ce) provide a wealth of material about this event. In addition, there are brief accounts by Tacitus (ca. 55–120 ce), Suetonius (ca. 70–135 ce), and Dio Cassius (ca. 164–229 ce). These three sources may suggest that the reception of the revolt among Roman historians was limited to the fact that it prepared the way for Flavian rule. For many, if not most events, Josephus is the only available source (Cohen 1979; McLaren 1998; Rajak 2002). Written in the 70s ce in Greek for an educated elite living in Flavian Rome, Josephus’ seven-volume Jewish War adheres to conventions of Greco-Roman historiography and deals with a history of Judean politics, including (book 1) a brief history of the Maccabean revolt (167 bce) and Hasmonean dynastic succession leading to the rise and reign of King Herod (book 1); the violent conflicts following Herod’s succession followed by further incidents in JewishRoman relations up to the actual outbreak of the revolt in Jerusalem and the defeat of Cestius Gallus’ legion in the summer of 66 ce (book 2; see Map 12a: First Jewish War: Initial Successes [66 ce]); Vespasian’s appointment and his campaign in Galilee, including Josephus’ defense of the fortified settlement of Jotapata (book 3); the advance of Vespasian and the ensuing civil war between different rebel factions in Jerusalem, mirrored by the Roman civil war (i.e. the “Year of the Four Emperors” in 69 ce) in which Vespasian came out as victor (book 4; see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]); the start of the siege of Jerusalem by Titus, son of Vespasian, resulting in a destructive famine (end-69 to mid-70 ce; book 5); the gradual progress by the Romans in the siege of Jerusalem with increased suffering among the Jewish population, culminating into the destruction of the Temple and Jerusalem (second half of 70 ce; book 6; see Map 12c: First Jewish War: Siege of Jerusalem [70 ce]); and the aftermath of the revolt (end 70 to ca. 75 ce) with the Flavian Triumph in Rome and the siege and capture of the fortresses of Machaerus and Masada as well as the rebellions in the Jewish diaspora communities of Alexandria and Cyrene (book 7; see Map 12d: First Jewish War: Siege of Masada [73/74 ce]). While it is obvious that the revolt had dire outcomes, there is no clear consensus on why and exactly how the revolt began (Berlin and Overman 2002; Popović 2011). The revolt has been characterized as a social revolution, an anti-imperialist uprising, a civil war, or a regional ethnic

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conflict. These modern explanations are in one way or another based on the various reasons given by Josephus of what happened in 66 ce, which include such aspects as the brutality of Roman rule and imperialism, cultural-ethnic conflict, social conflict between aristocrats and popular revolutionaries, and general civil war (Bilde 1979; modern explanations exclude divine judgment). From a cultural perspective, scholars, following Hengel (1969), regard the process of hellenization in Judea as the cause of tensions between Greeks and Jews in general and within Judean society between so-called “hellenizers” and traditionalists, while from an ideological perspective (Hengel 1989) the traditionalists are understood to have been rooted in a Jewish freedom movement. From the perspective of social conflict, scholars have argued that the countryside may have become increasingly impoverished (Kreissig 1970; Goodman 1982; Applebaum 1989). Josephus’ descriptions of the “bandits,” religious “impostors,” and sicarii have been evaluated in light of postcolonial models of anti-imperialistic social banditry, messianic movements, and terrorist movements (Blumell 2008; Vandenberghe 2016). Given the role of the local elite within the context of the Roman Empire, the failure of the Judean elite to negotiate between Roman and local interests may have contributed to the social breakdown in Judea and, eventually, the outbreak of the revolt (e.g. Goodman 1989; Price 1992). If one considers cultural aspects, especially from a regionalist approach to ethnic rivalry within the Roman Empire, some Judeans may have acted for their own self-preservation rather than depend on existing institutions. Nero may have ended Rome’s preferences for regional rule from Jerusalem by unilaterally siding with the Greeks in an ethnic conflict and by ordering his local agent (the procurator Gessius Florus) to collect taxes in Jerusalem by any means necessary. This action was not prevented by the senatorial legate of Syria (Cestius Gallus) and caused turmoil in Jerusalem. With no remaining protection from Jerusalem’s ethnic rivals or Nero’s aggressive agent, the Judeans took matters into their own hands, which eventually caused a breakdown of Roman order throughout the region (Mason 2016). Having become emperors after the fall of Jerusalem, Vespasian (Figure 4.126) and his sons, Titus and Domitian, initiated a series of media in the city of Rome and throughout the Empire that signaled their hold of imperial power (Edmondson, Mason, and Rives 2005). The suppression of a provincial revolt in Judea was turned into a victory over a great foreign nation that threatened Rome. New coins were struck bearing the legend of “Iudaea Capta.” Redirecting the moneyflow away from the now-destroyed Temple in Jerusalem and to Rome, a new tax was introduced, called the fiscus Iudaicum, which was to be paid by Jews throughout the Empire and continued for decades after the revolt (Heemstra 2010). In the city of Rome, a triumph was celebrated in 71 ce and described by Josephus. The building of various monuments in the city of Rome was initiated to commemorate the revolt and to celebrate the Flavian dynasty. Among the most famous constructions are Titus’ arch, with its relief that depicts part of the Flavian triumph procession; the Colosseum, whether or not it was actually paid for by war booty from the First Jewish Revolt; the renovation of the Jupiter temple; and the construction of a temple of Peace where symbolic spoils of the revolt were housed. Archaeological, numismatic, documentary, and epigraphic evidence may provide unique glimpses of the lived context during the revolt. Excavations illustrate the preparations, tactics, and effects of Roman sieges (cf., e.g., Jotapata, Gamla, Qumran, Jerusalem, Machaerus, and Masada, smaller tells such as Khirbet al-Hamam [Narbata], underground hideaway complexes in 663

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Figure 4.126  Bust of Emperor Vespasian (reigned 69–79 ce).

villages such as Karm er-Ras [Kfar Kanna], rural villas such as Khirbet el-Muraq, or caves such as at ʿAin-ʿArrub [Popović 2011]). Through their iconography and inscriptions, the bronze and silver revolt coins reflect the perceived sense of self, the identity of a new authority in Jerusalem that proclaimed the dawn of a new era. Bronze revolt coins minted at Gamla in Gaulanitis show that the effect of the message proclaimed by the revolt coins was not limited to Jerusalem. At least five but perhaps up to 18 documents from Wadi Murabbaʿat from the period of the First Revolt use dating formulas and phrases similar to those on the revolt coins. This documentary evidence illustrates that the independent government guaranteed the legal framework of everyday transactions and that daily life went on during the First Revolt, although their deposition context also demonstrates that by that time these particular people were on the run (McLaren 2011). The ramifications of the First Jewish Revolt on developments in Jewish practices and literature cannot be overestimated. Many regard the outcome, including the destruction of the Second Temple (and the loss of the sacrificial cult there) as a socioreligious turning point that would pave the way for the formalization of Torah-based piety attested in the Mishnah, Tosefta, and eventually the later rabbinic literature. Apocalyptically orientated writings such as 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch, which emphasized the importance of the Torah, reflect theological attempts to respond to the crisis at the end of the 1st century and the early part of the 2nd century ce, though it was initially not clear how long-term the lack of a cultic center for Jews in Jerusalem would be.

Bibliography S. Applebaum, “Josephus and the Economic Causes of the Jewish War,” in Josephus, the Bible, and History, ed. L. H. Feldman and G. Hata (Leiden: Brill, 1989), 237–64. 664

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P. Bilde, “The Causes of the Jewish War According to Josephus,” JSJ 10 (1979): 179–202. L. Blumell, “Social Banditry? Galilean Banditry from Herod until the Outbreak of the First Jewish Revolt,” Scripta Classica Israelica 27 (2008): 35–53. J. Edmondson, S. Mason, and J. Rives, ed. Flavius Josephus and Flavian Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). M. Goodman, “The First Jewish Revolt: Social Conflict and the Problem of Debt,” JJS 33 (1982): 417–27. H. Kreissig, Die sozialen Zusammenhänge des judäischen Krieges: Klassen und Klassenkampf im Palästina des 1. Jahrhunderts v. u. Z, Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur der Antike (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1970). J. S. McLaren, “Going to War against Rome: The Motivation of the Jewish Rebels,” in The Jewish Revolt against Rome: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, ed. M. Popović, JSJSup 154 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 129–53. J. S. McLaren, Turbulent Times? Josephus and Scholarship on Judea in the First Century CE, LSTS 29 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998). M. Popović, “Roman Book Destruction in Qumran Cave 4 and the Roman Destruction of Khirbet Qumran Revisited,” Qumran und die Archäologie (2011), 239–91. M. Popović and M. Vandenberghe, “First Jewish Revolt,” in Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2017), 221–27. J. J. Price, Jerusalem under Siege: The Collapse of the Jewish State 66–70 C.E., BSJS 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1992). M. J. Vandenberghe, “Villains Called Sicarii: A Commonplace for Rhetorical Vituperation in the Texts of Flavius Josephus,” JSJ 47 (2016): 475–507. MLADEN POPOVIĆ

Related entries: Arch of Titus; Baruch, Second Book of; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Herod the Great; Josephus, Writings of; Masada, Archaeology of; Masada, History of; Military, Jews in the; Procurators; Romanization; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Roman Governors; Sacrifices and Offerings; Slavery; Temple Tax; Tribute and Taxes.

Revolt, Second Jewish (Bar Kokhba Revolt; 132–136 ce) After five years of a stubborn Jewish revolt against the Romans, the Temple was burned and the city of Jerusalem destroyed by the Roman army under the command of Titus (70 ce). The resulting religious crisis, the reinforcement of the Roman army in the province, and the increase in taxation facilitated strong anti-Roman sentiment. These culminated in another great revolt against the Romans that began in 132 ce and ended with the fall of Betar in 136 ce. The unique character of the rebellion lies in the dominant personality of its leader, “Bar Kokhba,” who took military command and control over the Jewish settlements in the regions that participated and whose name is attached to this revolt. Within a period of about 60 years, the Jews in the land of Israel revolted three times against the Romans: the Great Revolt (66–73), the revolt in the diaspora that includes some incidents in Galilee (115–117), and the Second Revolt (132–136). Sources.  Unlike the First Revolt, which was documented by the historian (and participant) Josephus, the Second Revolt lacks a coherent and reliable literary record and must therefore be reconstructed from disparate sources. Rabbinic sources (Schäfer 2003), written many years after the events, attempted to explain theologically why the revolt failed. Isolated details are, moreover,

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mentioned in Roman sources such as the 2nd/3rd-century historian Dio Cassius. Yet the mere 16 lines dedicated to the Second Revolt may not have been composed by him at all but rather by the monk Xiphilinus, an epitomist of Dio Cassius’ book in the 11th century whose words are permeated by hatred for the Jews. Christian sources are also of limited value, since their interests are primarily theological, focusing on the destruction of Jerusalem as a fulfillment of Jesus’ prophecies. Material evidence has been essential for reconstructing events surrounding the Second Revolt. This includes archaeological finds from sites where the revolt took place such as Betar, Herodion, ʿEin-Gedi, Tel Shalem, and the secret hideouts and refuge caves that were dug in the various regions. Numismatic evidence derives from coins (including their inscriptions) minted during the revolt. Inscriptions from Jerusalem, Caesarea Maritima, Tel Shalem, and other sites reveal stages of the revolt. Several military documents testify indirectly about the Roman soldiers in Provincia Iudaeae. Among papyri from the time of the revolt there is valuable correspondence between some military commanders and the leader of the revolt, Simon ben Kosiba (Bar Kokhba’s actual name). Causes.  A number of factors led Jews in 132 ce to rebel openly against the Romans despite prior bitter defeats (Mor 2016: 13–145). There were mounting pressures such as the desire for liberation from foreign rule, the increase in Roman military presence (two Roman legions and many auxiliary units stationed throughout the country), and economic distress from a rising number of evicted farmers. Several accounts help identify the specific factor(s) behind the initial outbreak of hostilities. According to Berešit Rabbah 64 (5th cent. ce) Hadrian had promised to rebuild the Temple. When he failed to do so because of slander by the Samaritans, the Jews rebelled. This account is, however, largely discredited because of its anti-Samaritan bias. The account of Dio Cassius states that Hadrian founded a new city upon the ruins of Jerusalem (130 ce) where he erected a temple to Jupiter, a clear act of provocation (Dio Cassius, Hist. Rom. 69.12.1–2; cf. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 4.6.1). Numismatic and inscriptional evidence confirms the establishment of Aelia Capitolina before the outbreak of the revolt. This event was, however, hardly a pretext for the rebellion since the Second Revolt was not connected with Jerusalem, and there is no evidence that the rebels tried to conquer the city and change its status. According to an ancient biography of Hadrian (Historia Augusta, “Life of Hadrian,” 14.2) the revolt was triggered by Hadrian’s prohibition against circumcision. Indeed, there was an edict in 139 ce by Antoninus Pius, Hadrian’s successor, which restored circumcision as permissible for Jews only (Modestinus, Corpus Jurus Civilis Digesta 48.8.11: Circumcision Limited to Jews). The prohibition, however, was imposing a general regulation against castration (regarded by Romans as inflicting a blemish on the human body) and not directed at Jews as such (including Egyptian priests). Moreover, it seems that the prohibition was not imposed against all Jews nor is there any indication that it was imposed before the revolt. Instead, Jewish sources give the impression that the circumcision decree was imposed upon the rebels in regions where the revolt had spread as part of the punitive measures against them. Therefore it should not be seen as the rebellion’s cause. A fourth suggestion comes from Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 4.6.1–4), who claims that the main cause for the revolt had to do with the messianic pretensions of its leader and the madness of Jews who were led astray by his promises (Num 24:17; cf. j.Taʿan. 4.5). If there is any credulity to this factor, it could explain why the rebels were willing to take up arms against such overwhelming 666

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odds: for them the outcome would not be decided by military power but by divine intervention through God’s representative, the king messiah (Marks 1994: 14–22). Scope.  Scholars debate the extent of the revolt, whether it was widespread throughout the region or confined to the mountains, lowlands, and desert of Judea (see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]). Those who espouse broad participation see the conflict involving the entire Jewish population of the country united under the leadership of Bar Kokhba, Rabbi Akiva, and Eleazar the priest, and spreading through Galilee, the Golan, and east of the Jordan River toward the coast. Advocates of a limited conflict reject the participation of Galilee in the revolt and observe that material evidence for the revolt is limited to the regions around Hebron, Jerusalem, and Ramallah in the north, Betar in the west, and the western shores of the Dead Sea in the east. These regions yield coins of the revolt as well as a system of hideouts and places of refuge not found elsewhere. In areas to which the revolt spread, Bar Kokhba’s supporters treated him as a national leader fulfilling the expectations of messianic redemption and political independence. He gathered supporters by the force of his personality, and his position was strengthened when the leading sages, headed by Rabbi Akiva, recognized him as the king messiah. According to the evidence of coins that were struck during the revolt, Bar Kokhba was joined by a “Cohen” (=priest) called Eleazar, who may have filled the role of religious authority, and by some of the sages under the leadership of Rabbi Akiva. The account of Dio Cassius reveals the preparations made by the rebels, including their highly efficient system of underground hiding places and the construction of fortifications (Hist, 69.12.1), most of which have been discovered in the war regions, mainly in the Judean lowlands. Narrative.  It is difficult to reconstruct the military course of the revolt from documents and archaeological finds. At the beginning of the revolt two Roman legions were stationed in the country: the Tenth Fretensis and the Sixth Ferrata, along with auxiliary units of cavalry and infantry. Both of these armies were defeated by the rebels. This loss caused reinforcements to be brought in from Syria, Egypt, and Provincia Arabia. Even this reinforcement, however, could not overcome the rebels, whose guerrilla-type warfare in mountainous regions managed to eliminate the advantage of the superior Roman forces (Dio Cassius 69.12.3). The successes of the rebels in the first year of the war were reflected in coins marked Year One for the “Redemption of Israel,” the beginning of a new calendar system. Other coin inscriptions include “For Jerusalem” and “For the Freedom of Jerusalem,” (see Figure 4.127) which some scholars regard as evidence for the conquest of Jerusalem by the rebels, who would have controlled it for two years until 134 ce. But these inscriptions are better understood as slogans than as proof of conquest; very few such coins were found in Jerusalem, and there is no evidence that the rebels conquered and held the city. Initially the Romans took little account of the rebels (Dio Cassius 69.13.1). Their achievements, however, brought about a sharp reversal in the attitude of Hadrian who, after failure in the spring of 134 ce, dispatched his most senior officers headed by Julius Severus to engage the enemy in Judea (Dio Cassius 69.13.2). Severus mustered a large number of military forces—these apparently included four legions and secondary units from six other legions—but unlike in the previous engagements, when the rebels took advantage of the Roman army’s predictable methods 667

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Figure 4.127  Bar Kokhba Tetradrachm (reverse) with inscription, “For the Freedom of Jerusalem.”

of warfare, Severus adopted the fighting strategies of the rebels themselves. He divided his forces into small units that could slowly surround and trap the rebels (Dio Cassius 69.13.3). As a result Severus razed to the ground 50 main forts and 985 villages (69.15.1). Though Dio Cassius’ numbers are exaggerated, Severus undoubtedly managed to eradicate the main opposition. Some of the remaining rebels sought refuge in caves in the Judean desert where the Bar Kokhba letters were found (Cotton and Yardeni 1997; Yadin, Greenfield, Yardeni, and Levine 2002), while others escaped to Betar, which was besieged by the Romans in the spring of 135 ce. The revolt came to an end in the siege of Betar, an important Jewish center about 11 km southwest of Jerusalem. It became the last stronghold of the rebels because of the advantages of its strategic topography, situated on a steep-sided mountain surrounded on three sides by valleys difficult to pass through and fortified by the rebels. The Romans constructed a 4000-m long dyke around Betar, its towers, and its artillery positions. They also filled the moat that protected the southern side, set up battery ramps, and by means of siege towers breached the city walls. The fall of Betar left a deep impression in Jewish sources: “For three and half years Hadrian laid siege to Betar” is an exaggeration for the period of the siege, but reflects the significance of the fall for the rebels. In the literature describing the siege of Betar, various versions circulated concerning the death of Bar Kokhba. The immediate results of the failed revolt, beyond the loss of life, included the selling into slavery of some captured rebels in the slave market in Mamre and Gaza and the decrease in the Jewish population, mostly in areas where the revolt occurred. The name change from Provincia Judaeae to Syria Palaestina indicates that the Jews were no longer the dominant factor in the population. One of the punitive acts against the Jewish rebels 668

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was the prohibition to reside in or even enter Jerusalem, which became a place for foreign residents. Following suppression of the revolt, the Romans imposed further regulations on the Jews (Mor 2016: 468–85). They included prohibitions against the public observance of religious commandments. Some responded by observing the commandments secretly, while others who transgressed the decree prepared to be martyred. The decrees were later canceled by the emperor Antoninus Pius (reigned 138–161 ce). After the revolt, many Jews settled in Galilee, which did not participate in the revolt and therefore averted economic crisis as well as the destruction of their settlements.

Bibliography R. G. Marks, The Image of Bar Kokhba in Traditional Jewish Literature. National Hero False Messiah (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994). M. Mor, The Second Jewish Revolt: The Bar Kokhba War, 132–136 ce (Leiden: Brill, 2016). P. Schäfer, “Bar Kochba and the Rabbis,” in The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered: New Perspectives on the Second Jewish Revolt against Rome, ed. P. Schäfer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 1–22. MENAHEM MOR

Related entries: Bar Kokhba Letters; Coele-Syria; Economics in Palestine; Fortresses and Palaces; Jesus of Nazareth; Messianism; Military, Jews in the; Persecution, Religious; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Generals; Tribute and Taxes.

Rhodes The island of Rhodes was one of the main ports that traded with ancient Israel and later Judea from the Iron Age (8th–6th cent. bce) through the Hellenistic and Roman periods (4th cent. bce – 1st cent. ce; see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). In the Iron Age Rhodes is mentioned in Genesis 10:4 (MT) and in Ezekiel 27:15, no doubt on account of the flourishing trade with which it was associated. Rhodian amphorae (many with Rhodian-specific dated stamps) in ancient Israel testify to a close relationship between Rhodes and Judea/Galilee in the time of the Hasmoneans (2nd cent. bce). Beyond the literary references in 1 Maccabees 15:22–23 that specifically mention the nearby locations of Kos, Rhodes, Samos, and Delos (in a “letter” from Rome about the Jews), it is clear that Jewish and Greco-Roman writers were aware of the connections between Judea and Rhodes. Material culture from the Hellenistic period provides more clues about these connections. From the Hellenistic period, several buildings on nearby Delos, Aegina, and Chios are identified by some as “synagogues.” The synagogue building at the port of Ostia (Rome) dating from the reign of Claudius (41–54 ce), a building in Stobi (Macedonia), and a synagogue inscription from the 3rd century bce in Alexandria all suggest that there were indeed synagogues in the Hellenistic Jewish world. At Delos the synagogue building was built as a public (not residential) structure in the Hellenistic period and later was used for different purposes. Archaeologists have discovered inscriptions using well-known Jewish concepts nearby these structures: proseuchē (προσευχή, prayer area) and honorific titles such as archisynagōgos (ἀρχισυναγωγός, leader of the synagogue) are consistent with those found in other confirmed Hellenistic Jewish communities, such as in Alexandria. The discovery (1998) in Rhodes of an inscribed votive marble altar from the Hellenistic period

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Figure 4.128  Rhodian Amphora from Bethsaida, Israel. Courtesy of the Bethsaida Excavations Project.

which was found in secondary use for a presumed “kosher” oil press with a menorah incised on the side (also from this period) suggests that Jews were already established on the island of Rhodes at the turn of the era. Literary references supply more evidence for Jews in relation to Rhodes. The 1st-century bce Greek writer Appolonius of Molon, who took up residence in Rhodes, is the first writer after Hecataeus to have written about traditions of the Torah and the customs and life of Jews. Appolonius may have gained his knowledge from first-hand contact with a Jewish community in Rhodes. His work was one of two sources (the other being Posodonius) for the anti-Jewish rants of Apion (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.79–96). The most famous connection between Judea and Rhodes was the frequent trips and benefit projects of Herod the Great during the 1st century bce. His first visit took place in 40 bce when, having set sail for Pamphylia on his way to Rome, he was nearly shipwrecked and with difficulty made his way to the island. There, according to Josephus’ account, he found the city devastated by the war against Cassius and “did not hesitate to help it even though he was in need of funds, but actually exceeded his means in restoring it” (Ant. 14.377–378; cf. J.W. 1.280). This is also where Herod met Octavian in 31 bce, pledging his loyalty to the new emperor of Rome and having his credentials as king of Judea and friend of Rome reconfirmed. This event, however, does not explain the multiple visits and building projects undertaken in Rhodes by Herod during the very time he was carrying out his expansion of the Temple in Jerusalem as well as undertaking other building programs in Judea. The most surprising reference is Josephus’ comment on the work of Herod in Rhodes. He writes, “The 670

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most beautiful building that he built was the temple of Apollo that had burned down, which he rebuilt on a grander scale at his own expense” (Ant. 16.147). The 1st- and early-2nd-century ce Roman writer Suetonius records the first piece of specific information about Jews gathering in Rhodes on the Sabbath and listening to a “Grammaticus” (which may be a Latin substitution for “Rabbi/teacher”). In Tiberius 32.2, Suetonius refers to a certain Diongenes, who spoke regularly on the Sabbath during Tiberius’ stay in Rhodes (6 bce–2 ce) and who turned him away. There is even inscriptional evidence in Rhodes from the 1st century ce of a community that may have included “god-fearers.” This was perhaps the reason that Paul of Tarsus visited Rhodes (Acts 21:1–2) as a part of his mission to the Jews and such “god-fearers.” Much more material and literary evidence of a Jewish presence in Rhodes has been recovered for later periods, suggesting that the community grew and continued to flourish through Byzantine and Ottoman rule. The community was significantly augmented by Spanish (Sephardic) exiles from 1492 onward.

Bibliography M. D. Angel, The Jews of Rhodes: The History of a Sephardic Community (New York: Sepher-Hermon, 1998). F. Zervaki, “An Inscribed Altar of the Hellenistic Period and Evidence of the Jewish presence in Ancient Rhodes,” Dodecanese Chronicles 26 (2015): 86–106. RICHARD A. FREUND

Related entries: Diaspora; Hecataeus of Abdera; Herod the Great; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts.

Righteousness and Justice Righteousness and justice are expressed in a variety of ways in the Second Temple literature. While all would acknowledge that God alone constitutes true righteousness (Sir 35:15; Tob 3:2; 13:6; 1 En. 22:14; 1QHa xii 31–32), perspectives diverge over the means by which individuals attain righteousness and the degree to which that attainment is possible. Ben Sira, e.g., understands the righteous to be the covenant people of God, Israel (Sir 11:17, 22; 12:2–3; 13:17), who maintain their covenant relationship through right deeds and piety (3:30; 7:10). While God alone has perfect justice, Ben Sira urges readers to pursue wisdom, through which the justice they are to live out is made known (32:16; Collins 1997: 95). In harmony with the Deuteronomic tradition (e.g. Deut 28–30), the tangible sign of one’s righteousness is the material blessing of God in this life (Di Lella 1966: 144). Accordingly, righteousness has no substantive benefit after death other than the remembrance of one’s name (Sir 44:13). In contrast to Ben Sira’s focus on this-worldly benefits of righteousness, Wisdom of Solomon entreats readers to pursue wisdom in order to live the righteous life (7:27) so that they might gain immortality (6:17–20). Further, Wisdom confronts the issue of theodicy in relation to the suffering of the righteous. In a prolonged discourse, the wicked denigrate righteousness and deny the existence of divine justice since God does not protect the faithful from their enemies (2:12–20). This conclusion is refuted by the author, who emphasizes a final judgment revealing that the righteous do not actually die but enter into immortality, having passed their test according to the hidden purposes of God (McGlynn 2001: 55). Moreover, they are present at the judgment

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when the wicked vindicate the righteous with their own words (3:7–11) and are annihilated while the righteous live forever (5:15–16; cf. Pss. Sol. 13:11). This apocalyptic worldview grows out of earlier traditions. For example, in the Epistle of Enoch especially, the righteous are presented in sharp contrast to rich, arrogant, and oppressive sinners who have amassed their fortunes through injustice against the faithful (1 En. 97:8–10). As in Wisdom of Solomon, Epistle of Enoch focuses on the destinies of the righteous and wicked dead who seem to have the same end from an earthly point of view (102:4–103:4). Through a series of heavenly mysteries revealed to Enoch, the text assures the righteous of God’s justice and a reversal of fortunes in the age to come (Stuckenbruck 2007: 86). In the Enoch tradition the definitions of the righteous community and the sinners highlights a connection between oppression and the individual accumulation of wealth. Underlying this contrast is a concern that the visible sign of material blessing in the Deuteronomic tradition gives the wicked, who have transmitted a “pious” tradition of their own (98:9–99:2), the appearance of righteousness while calling into question the piety of the faithful (96:4). The righteous are urged not to give in to the temptation of riches but to avoid the rich altogether and persevere until the coming age (104:6). At that time, the righteous will mete out justice on their oppressors and the wicked will ultimately fall under the final judgment of God (cf. Apocalypse of Weeks in 91:12–15). The Epistle of Enoch’s correction of false notions of being “righteous” reflects a debate that would continue into tradition attributed to Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels (cf. esp. Mark 2:17, Matt 9:13, Luke 5:32). In the writings of Paul the term “righteous” is used as a social category of conventional piety (Rom 2:13; 3:10; 5:7), though it ultimately becomes less descriptive of the present individual and more focused on an imputed and eschatological state of being, sometimes through the use of the cognate verb δικαιόω (dikaioō) (cf. Rom 1:17; 3:20, 24, 28; 4:2; 5:1, 9, 19; 8:30; 10:10; Gal 2:16–17; 3:11, 24). Paul terms this righteousness “the righteousness of God” (esp. Rom 1:16–17; 3:21–22; cf. 2 Cor 5:21). The nuances of Paul’s discourse contrast with the more straightforward language of the Epistle of James (2:20, 24). Righteousness was also a central concern for the movement(s) associated with the group at Qumran. On the basis of various sources received in the community (Yaḥad), it is possible to reconstruct the following self-perception: The members of the community separated themselves from what they perceived as the corrupt Jerusalem Temple cult and formed an alternative righteous community (calling themselves “sons of righteousness”; cf. 1QS ix 14 par. 4Q259 iii 10; 1QM xiii 10; 4Q502 1.10). The sectarian documents of the community reflect an apocalyptic worldview in which the present age is not fit for righteousness (1Q27 i 5–6). Belial is unrestrained in Israel, but a time is coming when wickedness will be eradicated and righteousness will flourish. Thus human beings are not completely righteous in the present age, but they look forward to the end of the age when they will become righteous (1QS iii 15–16, iv 23–26, xi 12–16; 1QHa xiv 9–14). In the present age the “sons of righteousness” are under the authority of the Prince of Light, which causes them to walk in paths of light (1QS iii 20), while the Angel of Darkness causes of their sins, their rebellion, and their afflictions in order to make them stumble. In relation to the present, and in fulfillment of prophetic sacred texts (see pesharim), some compositions appeal to the Teacher of Righteousness, to whom God recently revealed the mysteries of his will (1QpHab vii 1–4). The Yaḥad thus finds itself in

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“the wilderness” to prepare the way of the Lord and to preserve faith in the land by devoting themselves to the study of the law (1QS viii 1–7).

Bibliography A. Di Lella, “Conservative and Progressive Theology: Sirach and Wisdom,” CBQ 28 (1966): 139–54. M. McGlynn, Divine Judgment and Divine Benevolence in the Book of Wisdom, WUNT II, 139 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001). MARK D. MATHEWS

Related entries: Apocalypticism; Death and Afterlife; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ethics; Faith and Faithfulness; Grace (Ḥesed); Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Pauline Letters; Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS +5QS); Wisdom (Personified).

Rights of Jews in the Roman World The recognition of local laws and customs was a common pattern of Roman administration. Preserving the existing frameworks de jure and most of the time de facto, the Romans were able to keep local order without much expense and have a ready-made organization through which levies could be raised. No comprehensive legislation concerning the Jews living under the Roman government has been preserved by extant sources, and one may reasonably doubt if such legislation ever existed. About the legal status of the Jews there are only scraps of information found in literary sources and in a number of Roman and Greek decrees quoted by Josephus, which deal with the Jewish communities of Rome (Barclay 1996: 282–98), Libya, Egypt, Syria, and Asia Minor (Gruen 2002: 84–104). In spite of their fragmentary state and their textual corruptions, the documents quoted by Josephus have been recognized as basically genuine: copies of copies of authentic Roman and Greek documents (Ben-Zeev 1998: 357–68). These indicate that the Jews enjoyed a certain amount of autonomous internal jurisdiction. In a decree concerning Judean Jews, e.g., Caesar states that “if … any question shall arise concerning the Jews’ manner of life, it is my pleasure that they shall have the decision” (Ant. 14.190–195 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 1). Jews also enjoyed some autonomous administration. This meant the permission to manage their own revenues (Ant. 14.244–246 =Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 18) and to collect contributions of money (Ant. 14.213–216; 225–227 = Ben-Zeev 1998: nos. 7, 9). The right to send their sacred monies to Jerusalem from Rome is attested already by Cicero in the middle of the 1st century bce (Pro Flacco 28, 67) and then by later documents pertaining to different places of the diaspora (Ant. 16.162–173 = Ben-Zeev 1998: nos. 22–27). The Jews were allowed to assemble (Ant. 14.213–216; 225–227; 235; 256–261 = Ben-Zeev 1998: nos. 7, 9, 14, 19, 20), feast and hold common meals (Ant. 14.213–216 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 7), perform the Jewish cult, observe their Sabbaths, perform their own rites and offer their ancestral prayers (Ant. 14.241–246; 256–267; Ant. 16.162–165; 167–168 = Ben-Zeev 1998: nos. 17–22, 24). They were afforded a place “in which they decided their affairs and controversies with one another” (Ant. 14.235; 259–261 = Ben-Zeev 1998: nos. 14, 20) and were entitled to a special separate place to live (Ant. 14.259–261 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 20), to build sacred buildings

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in accordance with their native custom (Ant. 14.256–258 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 19), and to have “suitable food for them,” namely kosher food, in the local markets (Ant. 14.259–261 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 20). The right to follow traditional customs and laws was not exceptional in the Roman world. Even peculiar rights such as the exemption from taxes in the sabbatical years in Judea (Ant. 14.202–210 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 5); in Rome, the permission to have the distribution of grain kept for the next day when it happened to be distributed on the Sabbath (Philo, Leg. 158); and in Syrian Antioch on the Orontes, the cash payment they received in lieu of the oil (distributed free to the citizens, but forbidden by Jewish law [Ant. 12.120]), cannot be regarded as privileges since they were necessary if the Jews were to follow their traditional customs and laws. The same may be said of the imperial cult, which the Jews were allowed to perform in their own way: in Judea, offering a sacrifice not to the emperor but “on behalf ” of the emperor (J.W. 2.197; Ag. Ap. 2.77– 78, 196–199) and in the diaspora, showing their loyalty by offering prayers for the welfare of the emperor (Philo, Leg. 157, 232, 317). These forms of devotion cannot be regarded as exceptional since the imperial cult was not monolithic but allowed for notable differences in various places. Inscriptions coming from all over western and eastern provinces unambiguously attest that sacrifices “on behalf ” of the emperor existed side by side with the well-known sacrifices “to” the emperor (Ben-Zeev 1998: 471–81). Very few rights may be regarded as privileges, such as some minor honorific rights granted in Judea by Caesar to Hyrcanus II, his children, and to the envoys sent by him (Ant. 14.202–210 = Ben-Zeev 1998: no. 5) and, in Egypt, the right of being punished like Alexandrian citizens when guilty of a crime, namely not scourged with whips (which were used on slaves) but beaten with blades (Philo, Flacc. 78–80). As for the geographical and chronological validity of the Jewish rights, some of them seem to have applied only to a given place at a given time. Such, e.g., were the rights to be scourged with blades in Egypt and to receive cash money to pay for their own oil in Syria. The right to follow Jewish laws and customs, however, appears to have been in force both in Judea and in the diaspora, in the republican and in the imperial eras. However, relations were not always smooth. In different places of the diaspora the Jews were often prevented by their neighbors from observing the Sabbath, from performing their sacred rites, and from sending their sacred monies to Jerusalem (Ant. 14.213–216; 241–264; Ant. 16.162–173 = Ben-Zeev 1998: nos. 7, 17–27). When such events occurred the Jews turned to the Roman government for further supporting decrees and letters, though these were often ignored and had little practical consequences. Such an apathetic attitude on the part of the Romans does not surprise and finds numerous parallels in the case of other provincial issues. The Romans seem to have had a very limited interest in what happened in the provinces (Gruen 2002: 15, 42, 48, 52). In many centers of the Mediterranean, therefore, Jewish religious freedom was somewhat theoretical, and it appears that—whether often or sometimes, it is difficult to establish—the Jews had to face hard times trying to follow their ancestral customs and laws. Moreover, this freedom was not necessarily permanent and valid even theoretically, since the historical period under examination also witnessed episodes such as those that took place under Emperors Caligula and

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Hadrian, when basic Jewish rights were legally infringed. As it happened also in the case of other peoples, the rights accorded by the Romans were never absolute and permanent.

Bibliography See General Bibliography MIRIAM BEN ZEEV

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Alexandria; Emperor Cult; Festivals and Holy Days; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Hellenism and Hellenization; Imperial Cult, Jews in the; Josephus, Writings of; Persecution, Religious; Roman Emperors; Romanization; Sacrifices and Offerings; Tribute and Taxes; Worship.

Roman Emperors The position of the Roman emperor developed slowly over the course of the last third of the 1st century bce and into the later 1st century ce. Hence, even in the early 2nd century there was not clear agreement as to who the first emperor had been—whether it was Julius Caesar (the view of Suetonius who makes him the first of his Twelve Caesars) or Augustus, who comes first in the work of Suetonius’ contemporary, Plutarch. Tacitus, also writing in the 2nd century ce, implied that the imperial system could be said to have emerged only with the succession of Tiberius in 14 ce (Ann. 1.2–14). It was likely in that year that the first law codifying the role of a princeps, the term that would become standard in the 1st century, was passed (ILS 212; Matthews 2010). The institutions that would ultimately come to support the princeps emerged in the course of Augustus’ period of political domination, beginning when he ended the civil wars that began with the assassination of his adoptive father, Julius Caesar, in 44 bce. The decisive moment was the capture of Alexandria in 30 bce, finalizing Augustus’ victory over Marcus Antonius and Queen Cleopatra of Egypt at the battle of Actium on September 2 of the previous year. The crucial date in the emergence of the bureaucratic administrative system that distinguished the government of imperial Rome from that of the Republic was 6 ce, when Augustus, in consultation with the Roman senate, founded a state supported treasury to regularize terms of service for the army; when Augustus established a permanent police and fire brigade under the control of an equestrian official appointed by himself; and when Augustus created a permanent administration to stabilize the grain supply of the city of Rome, which, with a population of more than a million people, could only be sustained by large scale importation of grain from Egypt (governed by an equestrian official selected directly by Augustus) and North Africa (governed by a senior member of the senate, selected by the senate). A key feature of the new system was the division of power between the palace, with its largely equestrian officials, or officials who were selected from imperial freedmen, and the senate, which provided commanders for armies and governors for provinces. One further important feature of Augustus’ period in power was the increasing bureaucratization of the senatorial career. Augustus’ direct interaction with the Jewish community began soon after his victory at Actium, when he guaranteed Herod’s position as ruler of the Jewish kingdom (Millar 1993: 27–43). Despite doubts about Herod’s fitness, stemming from his treatment of family members and leading Augustus to comment that he would rather be Herod’s pig than his son (Macrobius,

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Sat. 2.4.11), Herod remained on the throne until his death in 4 bce. Augustus was less willing to tolerate what he saw as poor behavior on the part of Herod’s sons, which he saw as destabilizing the region; for instance, he removed Archelaus from power and exiled him to Gaul in 6 ce, at which point his portion of Herod’s former kingdom was attached to the province of Syria, though governed by a procurator. The annexation of this region was achieved by Syria’s governor, Sulpicius Quirinius. Augustus’ immediate successor, his adoptive son, Tiberius (14–37 ce), continued the Augustan system, and, through his own disinterest in governing (he withdrew from Rome to live in an imperial palace on the island of Capri for the last ten years of his reign), strengthened the hand of the palace bureaucracy, which now included an immensely powerful commander of the imperial (praetorian) guard who often acted as Tiberius’ deputy. The imperial guard worked with the palace bureaucracy that arranged first the succession of Tiberius’ nephew, Caligula, as well as his subsequent removal. Caligula displayed considerable hostility toward the Jewish community, even planning to have a statue of himself placed in the Jerusalem Temple, while refusing to take actions against the perpetrators of a pogrom against the Jewish community in Alexandria. Caligula was succeeded by his uncle, Claudius (41–54 ce), often seen as a figurehead for powerful freedmen within the palace establishment, which is perhaps somewhat unfair. One of the notable documents of his reign is an extensive letter to Alexandria which includes a statement complaining about the violence against the Jewish community (Oliver 1989: n. 19). His successor, Nero (a rather erratic individual), continued the practice of running the empire through his professional staff, especially through the praetorian prefect. In 68, after his assassination of an important general, a cabal of officials drove him from the throne. Soon afterward Nero committed suicide. The overthrow of Nero marked an important new phase in the definition of the imperial office (Brunt 1977). Blood relationship with Augustus could no longer be regarded as a primary factor in determining the ruler, and the right to transfer power remained, as it had been since the accession of Tiberius, with the senate that would place enabling legislation before the people—the process was largely pro forma, but it did represent the notion, as stated by the 3rd-century jurist Ulpian, that the emperor’s power was still the product of a legislative process (D. 1.4.1). In the course of 69, after one assassination and two brief civil wars, power fell to Titus Flavius Vespasian, who exploited the influence that he had obtained as the general sent to quell the Jewish revolt and overthrew Vitellius, who had ousted Otho, who had murdered Galba (Nero’s immediate successor). The Roman historian, Tacitus, a contemporary of these events, plausibly attributed the Jewish revolt to misgovernment by a series of imperial procurators (Hist. 5.9–10). The revolt itself was extended by the civil war of 69 ce and was later celebrated as a foreign war by Vespasian, who used the treasure taken from the Temple at Jerusalem in 70 ce to fund the construction of the Colosseum. Vespasian’s dynasty, consisting of himself and his two sons, Titus and Domitian, lasted until 96, when Domitian was assassinated by the palace staff. The next century was dominated by five highly competent emperors, who relied upon adoption to select a successor. The first of these emperors, Nerva (96–98), adopted a successful general named Trajan (98–117 ce) who, in turn, adopted his nephew, Hadrian. The latter two men both had to contend with major Jewish revolts. In Trajan’s case the spark appears to have been provided by a major earthquake in 115 which fueled millenarian speculation from Palestine to Cyrenaica, while in Hadrian’s case the emperor’s own actions, including the reestablishment of Jerusalem as a Roman colony named Aelia Capitolina, 676

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were the catalysts for a revolt led by Simon Bar Kokhba. Hadrian wished to secure the succession of his only surviving relative Lucius Ceionius Commodus (who would reign under the name Lucius Verus) and the son of a close friend Marcus Annius Verus (later Marcus Aurelius), whom he regarded as being too young for the office. To accomplish his aim, he adopted Titus Aurelius Arrius Antoninus on the understanding that he would adopt the two younger men (which he did, an action which explains the changes in their names). Antoninus Pius, as Hadrian’s successor came to be known, ruled until 161, and relations between the imperial government and the Jewish community were considerably more peaceful under these rulers.

Bibliography P. A. Brunt, “Lex de Imperio Vespasiani,” JRS 67 (1977): 95–116. J. Matthews, Roman Perspectives: Studies in the Social, Political and Cultural History of the First-Fifth Centuries (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2010). F. G. Millar, The Roman Near East 31 BC–AD 338 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993). J. H. Oliver, Greek Constitutions of Early Roman Emperors from Inscriptions and Papyri (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1989). DAVID POTTER

Related entries: Emperor Cult; Herod the Great; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Persecution, Religious; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Generals; Romanization.

Roman Generals Roman generals were not professional soldiers. They were senators, holding several civil magistracies before being appointed to an army command and provincial governorship, which usually involved the administration of Roman territory and management of relations with neighbors. The emperor directly appointed his senior commanders. Their combat experience was often limited, and to some extent generals in the Imperial period taught themselves by taking advice from soldiers or even reading military manuals. This narrative of Rome’s relations with Judea in the Second Temple period is constructed largely from the helpful though ultimately inadequate material provided by Josephus, Cassius Dio, and Plutarch. Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (Pompey) (106–48 bce).  In the 60s Judea was disturbed by disagreements between the brothers Hyrcanus, the high priest, and Aristobulus, both of whom had kingly ambitions. Pompey came to Syria in late 64 intending to take action against Aretas of Nabatea, who had interfered in Judea, but was distracted by Aristobulus’ supporters, who defiantly occupied the Jerusalem Temple precinct for three months. Pompey eventually installed Hyrcanus as ruler with the title of high priest and concurrently imposed a tribute (Josephus, Ant. 14.69–74; Dio 37.15–16). Pompey aimed to secure Rome’s interests and to advance his own political career, but he showed no real understanding of the Jews. In 57 bce Aulus Gabinius, governor of Syria, intervened in support of Hyrcanus; significantly, this was the first time the Roman army campaigned on Jewish land. Subsequently Marcus Crassus, governor of Syria, plundered the Temple, though his primary intent was to fight Parthia. After his defeat and death at Carrhae in 53, civil war between Julius Caesar and Pompey brought uncertain times to the east. 677

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Marcus Antonius (Mark Antony) (83–30 bce).  While Rome was distracted, the Parthians removed Hyrcanus and installed Antigonus. As Triumvir, Mark Antony controlled the eastern provinces and supported Herod, an Idumean convert to Judaism, as king of Judea; he was designated king by the senate in 40 bce and installed after a siege of Jerusalem in 37 (Josephus, Ant. 14.394–491; Dio 49.22.3–6). Gaius Caesar Octavianus (Augustus) (63 bce–14 ce).  Augustus, as master of the Roman world, recognized the Jewish religion, and despite Herod’s previous friendship with Antony retained him as king until the Idumean died in 4 bce. In 6 ce Augustus annexed Judea as a province under an equestrian prefect (subsequently called procurator). Judea was ruled directly by Rome for the next 60 years except when Agrippa I was king (41–4 ce). The governor had no legionary troops under his control. Gaius Cestius Gallus (consul 42 ce).  The reasons for the Jewish revolt of 66 ce are complex, but the Romans probably expected to deal easily with what seemed a small disturbance in a small province. Cestius Gallus, governor of Syria, marched on Jerusalem with legion XII Fulminata, detachments from the other three legions in Syria, and auxilia units. But, unwilling to besiege the city and forced to retreat, he was harassed by fast-moving Jewish forces on the way to Beth-horon, losing his war engines and suffering 5,780 casualties (Josephus, J.W. 2.542–5). Titus Flavius Vespasianus (9–79 ce).  Vespasian had commanded legion II Augusta during the invasion of Britain, and Tacitus comments that he was an accomplished commander, personally choosing camping sites, vigorously pursuing the enemy, and sharing the military regimen (Hist. 2.5). Ordered to suppress the Jewish rebellion by Nero, he commanded three legions: X Fretensis under M. Ulpius Traianus, XV Apollinaris under his son Titus, and V Macedonica under Sex. Vettulenus Cerialis (with auxiliary units about 50,000 men). Vespasian subdued rebel strongholds by a pattern of siege and assault. Initial operations in Galilee saw Vespasian confront Josephus, the local commander. When Jotapata fell after a 40-day siege Josephus escaped and Vespasian welcomed him (a propaganda coup and possible source of information). In northern Galilee Tiberias and (Magdala) Tarichaeae fell, with Titus leading the attack, followed by the storming of Gamla, notable for its strong natural defences. The slaughter of defenders and capture of Gischala completed the subjugation of Galilee (Josephus, J.W. 3.1–542). However, Nero’s death in 68 and the subsequent civil war halted the campaign. In July 69 Vespasian was acclaimed emperor by his troops; detachments were withdrawn from his army for the march on Rome. Titus Flavius Vespasianus (39–81 ce).  In the spring 70 Titus resumed the campaign, adding XII Fulminata to his forces. The siege of Jerusalem lasted 140 days and the capture of the Antonia fortress opened up the Jerusalem Temple complex and upper city. The treasury and Holy of Holies were looted and in the fighting the Temple was set on fire, either accidentally or deliberately. Finally the upper city and Herod’s palace fell. Up to 600,000 may have perished during the siege (Josephus, J.W. 6.392–442).

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L. Flavius Silva (consul 81 ce).  In 73 Flavius Silva, governor of Judea and commanding legion X Fretensis, directed the final military operation, the six-month siege of Masada on its great mountain plateau. Silva constructed eight military camps, a circumvallation 3.54 km long and 3 m high, and an 85 m high artillery platform built on an artificial mound. The defenders, sicarii (“dagger men”) commanded by Eleazer, numbered 967, and according to Josephus 960 committed suicide before the final assault (J.W. 7.399–401). Sextus Julius Severus (consul 127 ce).  In 132 ce simmering resentment at Roman conduct in Judea, particularly the banning of circumcision, led to a serious revolt led by Bar Kokhba. The Romans lost control of a considerable part of the province. Hadrian probably visited in person briefly, but decided to summon Julius Severus, governor of Britain, who had previously governed Upper Dacia and Lower Moesia on the Danube and was one of Hadrian’s most experienced commanders. The Jews, operating from strongpoints and hidden bunkers, inflicted serious damage, but Severus, avoiding open battle, ruthlessly isolated groups of rebels, cutting off their supplies, and destroyed them. When the revolt ended in 135 up to 585,000 may have been killed in the fighting (Dio 69.13.3).

Bibliography A. R. Birley, Hadrian. The Restless Emperor (London: Routledge, 1997). A. R. Birley, The Roman Government of Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). B. Levick, Vespasian (London: Routledge, 1999). A. N. Sherwin-White, Roman Foreign Policy in the East (London: Duckworth, 1984). BRIAN CAMPBELL

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Hasmonean Dynasty; Herod the Great; Hyrcanus I, John; Idumea; Josephus, Writings of; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Masada, History of; Revolt, First Jewish; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Governors.

Roman Governors Roman provincial governors were the most powerful intermediaries between the Roman state and the local elites of Rome’s various subject populations. They were elite Romans (usually senators) chosen by the senate or emperor to rule an individual province for at least one year; terms of two or three years were common. Negligent emperors might leave governors in place much longer. The various types of governors included proconsuls (senior senators over the oldest internal provinces), propraetorian legates (emperors’ hand-picked appointees over important provinces such as Syria), and non-senatorial prefects and procurators (usually assigned to minor provinces such as Judea). For provincials, these distinctions made little difference, and Greek sources call governors by vague “commander” terminology such as archōn (ἄρχων), hēgemōn (ἡγεμών), and stratēgos (στρατηγός; Mason 1974). Latin sources likewise resort to the catch-all phrase praeses to cover all types of governors. Information on Roman governors is particularly rich from the crucifixion of Jesus through the early 2nd century ce, thanks to Book II of Josephus’ Jewish War (with Labbé 2012: 155– 365), the New Testament, Dio Chrysostom’s political speeches, Pliny the Younger’s letters, and

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scores of documentary sources. Roman provincial governors were key figures in negotiating the relationship between Rome and Jewish elites, and in the breakdown of Jewish-Roman relations which culminated in the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce. Rome sent each governor with a small professional staff of secretaries, porters, heralds, attendants, and at least a few hundred soldiers who helped him keep his province subdued and quiet (Ulpian, Digest 1.18.13.pr.; Fuhrmann 2012: 171–200). Some governorships were high-stakes military assignments involving large armies and a chance at military glory. More typically, most governors heard court cases, maintained good order, socialized with provincial elites, and cultivated a positive impression back in Rome (Bérenger 2014). Governors were peregrinatory dispensers of justice, traveling from town to town rather than staying in one fixed capital (Haensch 1997). The Roman governor was ordinarily the most powerful individual in his province. Only he could hear a court case involving Roman citizens, disputes between communities, or capital punishment. At the same time, a governor could refuse to hear any case, as when Seneca’s brother Gallio stayed aloof from an accusation against Paul, deeming it a dispute within Corinth’s Jewish community about their own law (Acts 18:4–16). As an outsider in the province, governors’ actual power fell short of their theoretical plenipotentiary might. Like Pilate at the trial of Jesus, governors tended to follow the lead of local authorities. Christian memory has likely softened Pilate’s image, but John’s Gospel particularly reflects realistic tension between the Roman governor and the subject local elites who were impotent to enforce their own laws. Governors also faced uncomfortable pressures from above. When Caligula irresponsibly ordered his statue erected in the Jewish Temple, Syria’s governor supposedly pleaded with the outraged populace that he, too, was under the rule of a master whose orders he must obey (Josephus, J.W. 2.184–203; cf. Ant. 18.261–309; Philo, Legat. 188–348). From an ordinary provincial’s perspective, the governor was an imposing figure, always surrounded by terrifying Roman soldiers and unapproachable hangers-on. Especially in the east, provincials called the governor “the fasces” by metonymy, referring to the threatening bundle of rods and axes of the lictor attendants who accompanied him (Marshall 1966). Death came to town with the governor, since his arrival prompted trials and showy executions of criminals waiting in the local jail (Shaw 2003). Governor-sponsored public torture, degrading executions in the local amphitheater, and crucifixions provided memorable entertainments, and thereby governors also participated in a certain economy of violence: there were not enough soldiers to impose order everywhere, so governors resorted to exemplary punishments to deter disorder. Terror of the governor and his military retinue is an important but often unrecognized factor in the hasty collapse of Jesus’ ministry in Jerusalem during his last days. After the end of the Second Temple period, rabbinic anecdotes illustrate continued alienation between Jewish civilians and elements of Roman power such as governors. Elite provincials might expect more commodious treatment from the governor, but here too relations could be fraught. He had to referee disputes that frequently divided provincial societies at all levels, and gubernatorial corruption (extortion, bribery, uncivil brutality) was a well-established Republican tradition. The empire improved provincial administration, but some endemic corruption remained. At the same time, there were always good governors who keenly performed their challenging tasks as conscientious functionaries. Anecdotes suggest that even ordinary people saw governors and their entourages as bastions of security in a

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dangerous world (e.g. Epictetus, Diatr. 4.1.91; Apuleius, Met. 2.18). The author of 1 Peter (2:13–14) urged his readers to obey governors (ἡγεμόνες, hēgemones) since God sends them “to punish those who do wrong.” Thus Roman governors’ record is as mixed as their position was complicated.

Bibliography A. Bérenger, Le métier de gouverneur dans l’empire romain: De César à Dioclétien (Paris: de Boccard, 2014). C. J. Fuhrmann, Policing the Roman Empire: Soldiers, Administration, and Public Order (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012). R. Haensch, Capita provinciarum: Statthaltersitze und Provinzialverwaltung in der römischen Kaiserzeit (Mainz: Zabern, 1997). G. Labbé, L’affirmation de la puissance romaine en Judée (63 a.C.–136 p.C.) (Paris: Belles Lettres, 2012). A. J. Marshall, “Governors on the Move,” Phoenix 20 (1966): 231–46. H. J. Mason, Greek Terms for Roman Institutions (Toronto: Hakkert, 1974). B. D. Shaw, “Judicial Nightmares and Christian Memory,” JECS 11 (2003): 533–63. CHRISTOPHER J. FUHRMANN

Related entries: Jesus of Nazareth; John, Gospel of; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Persecution, Religious; Peter, Letters of; Procurators; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Romanization.

Roman Religion As a descriptive category, “Roman religion” is doubly problematic. The Romans shared many of their deities and cult practices with other Italic peoples, and were moreover deeply influenced from an early date by both Etruscans and Greeks. Although scholars of a century ago were much concerned with isolating what was genuinely “Roman” in Roman religion, scholars today generally agree that a purely “Roman” religion never existed. The term “religion” is equally problematic, since it does not correspond to a native conceptual category. The Latin noun religio means something like “an obligation incurred by the perception of superhuman power,” and the plural noun sacra denotes collectively the practices intended to cultivate those powers. Whereas earlier scholars defined Roman religion almost exclusively in terms of cult practices, scholars today see literary and philosophical texts as equally important elements of Roman religion, even if the relationships among these various elements are not easy to determine. The major categories of Roman cult practice were similar to those of other ancient Mediterranean peoples. Offerings were intended to win divine goodwill and took many forms, ranging from animal sacrifice to vegetal products and liquids (an offering of wine and incense became especially widespread), songs and dances, and the dedication of durable objects. Various forms of divination were thought to allow mortals some insight into the will of the gods; augury, which focused on the behavior of birds, was most important in the public cult, but there was a wide range of other techniques. Verbal discourse was a crucial part of all cult practices: prayers were needed to specify the deity and purpose of an offering, and many other rituals required precise spoken formulae.

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Public authorities were responsible for employing these practices on behalf of the Roman people as a whole. Deities whose goodwill was considered especially important to the public welfare (notably Jupiter Optimus Maximus, “Best and Greatest”) typically received a publicly funded sanctuary and one or more annual ceremonies. The Roman Senate possessed the ultimate authority to make decisions about public cult, i.e., which deities received cult and in what form. It was assisted by colleges of public priests; the pontifices, who had general oversight over all aspects of public cult, including hereditary family obligations, and the augurs. The men (rarely women) who performed public rituals were usually not these public priests but rather magistrates, although specialized priests with limited authority were responsible for particular rituals. Authority over public cult was thus diffused among the ruling elite and tended to be limited in scope: public officials normally took an interest in the activities of individuals and groups (almost never their beliefs) only when they had a potential impact on the public welfare. It is important to note that public cult, although it receives most attention in modern scholarship, constituted only one part of the larger Roman religious tradition, and that the cultic activities of individuals and small groups must have loomed larger in people’s daily lives. Although reconstruction of the earliest stages of the Roman religious tradition is impossible, some developments over time can be identified. The early and mid-republic saw the establishment of public cults for non-Italic deities, from the Greek Apollo in mid-5th century bce to the Anatolian “Great Mother of the Gods” in the late 3rd century bce, and also the incorporation of new forms of public cult, many apparently inspired by Greek tradition. The latter included the famous “games,” consisting of chariot races and/or theatrical performances accompanied by elaborate processions; gladiatorial combats, introduced in the mid-3rd century bce, were originally not part of public cult. By the mid-2nd century bce, the pace of innovation had begun to slow. The Senate no longer granted public cult to foreign deities, and at times actually sought to restrict private worship of them, as with Bacchus in 186 bce and Isis from the mid-1st century bce to the early 1st century ce. Similarly, Judeans were twice expelled from the city of Rome in the early 1st century ce (Josephus, Ant. 18.81–84, Tacitus, Ann. 2.85, Suetonius, Tib. 36; Acts 18:2, Suetonius, Claud. 25.4). In non-public contexts, however, innovation continued. The most significant development was the adoption from Greek tradition of new forms of discourse about the divine world and cultic practice, especially epic poetry, historiography, philosophy, and antiquarianism. The reign of the first Roman emperor, Augustus, was a watershed in Roman religion as in Roman history more generally. Augustus and his associates actively worked to transform (or “revive”) the Roman religious tradition, particularly to incorporate the emperor into cultic practice and other forms of religious discourse. From that point on the figure of the emperor was a crucial part of the Roman religious tradition. Modern scholars often refer to this as “imperial cult”; although this term can misleadingly imply the existence of an overarching structure and organization, it nevertheless serves as a convenient label for what was in fact a very broad range of strategies for associating the emperor with the divine, many of which originated from provincial populations. This flexibility was important, since it meant that even Judeans could honor the emperor in ways that were religiously significant but did not violate their traditions; examples include praying for and offering sacrifices on behalf of the emperor. The emperor

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Gaius’ demands for the sorts of divine honors that were unacceptable to most Judeans (Philo, Leg. 1–373; Josephus, J.W. 2.184–203, Ant. 18.257–309) seem to have been an exception to the status quo. The problem of defining the parameters of “Roman” religion become even more complex in the later centuries as Rome extended its hegemony and, more importantly, as increasing numbers of people outside Rome itself acquired Roman citizenship and came to identify with Rome. Cult remained effectively local, as it always had been, yet the Roman Empire did have a significant impact on the religious traditions of the peoples brought within its sphere, resulting in what may be described as imperial religious koine. Although imperial cult played a central role in this koine, it was characterized not so much by a common pantheon as by a set of practices and structures favored by Roman authorities—most importantly, a type of social organization in which economic and political urban elites exercised authority over public cults. Other types of authority, such as that of Gallic Druids or Egyptian priests, were destroyed outright or gradually restricted. The extent to which this Roman suspicion of other forms of socio-cultic organization played a role in the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple is debated.

Bibliography M. Beard, J. North, and S. Price, Religions of Rome, vol. 1: A History; vol. 2: A Sourcebook (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). J. B. Rives, Religion in the Roman Empire (Malden: Wiley-Blackwell, 2007). J. Rüpke, ed. A Companion to Roman Religion (Malden: Wiley-Blackwell, 2007). J. Scheid, An Introduction to Roman Religion, trans. J. Lloyd (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003). JAMES B. RIVES

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Emperor Cult; Imperial Cult, Jews in the; Idols and Images; Persecution, Religious; Roman Emperors; Sacrifices and Offerings.

Romanization “Romanization” is the controversial term still used, faute de mieux, to describe a nexus of cultural practices through which non-Romans interacted with and adapted to the realities of Roman power. For decades now, archaeologists and historians have challenged the conventional application of this term for its implicit teleology and lack of analytical precision. While these debates have not entirely reshaped the terminological landscape, they have produced important insights into the nature of this process of cultural change, the most useful of which involve a shift in perspective derived from postcolonial criticism (Mattingly 2002). Whereas the interaction between Rome and its provincial subjects was once regarded as a top-down imposition of prescribed cultural forms, scholars now see a reciprocal negotiation in which both sides exercised agency in pursuit of their own strategic ends. With this realignment scholars have also gained a stronger appreciation for the complexity of identity in the ancient world and have thus become more attuned to the extraordinarily heterogeneous nature of Romanization as it played out across time and space (Wallace-Hadrill 2008). Indigenous responses to Roman culture varied dramatically from place to place and sometimes even from group to group within a given social context. In broad terms, Rome’s

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impact was more noticeable in the Western provinces than in territories that previously had been under Macedonian control, where preexisting urbanized economies and civic cultures eased the transition from one imperial overlord to the next (Woolf 1994). The Romans’ own long-standing engagement with Greek cultural forms meant that their arrival produced a smaller (though not necessarily less significant) footprint in areas where these influences were already strong. In contrast, the arrival of such “Hellenic” institutions as schools or theaters in parts of Gaul or North Africa could only be accomplished through the mediating influence of Roman power. Like the related modern concept of “Hellenization,” Romanization encompasses a broad spectrum of loosely interconnected processes of acculturation. Many of these were linked directly to the machinery of Roman imperialism itself (MacMullen 2000). Although the size of Rome’s bureaucracy was small by comparative standards, provincial administration still brought local populations into contact with Roman officials and exposed them to the workings of Roman law. The Roman army recruited provincials into its ranks, taught them Latin, and conferred citizenship on discharged veterans. The founding of colonies, especially under Julius Caesar and Augustus, introduced Roman citizens and Roman habits into new territories, while emigrant businessmen further increased the numbers of citizens living outside of Italy. Local elites could also be Romanized through grants of citizenship and, beginning in the reign of Claudius, admission to the Roman senate. In places that lacked preexisting vernacular literatures, Latin became the principal language of the elite and a vehicle for accelerated access to Roman ideas and cultural norms. In the Eastern Mediterranean, however, Greek remained the dominant language of local government and literary culture. As the official language of administration, Latin could be accommodated through bior tri-lingualism, with speakers reverting to their native tongues in other contexts. Across the empire, local dialects seem to have persisted longer among the rural peasantry than in urban contexts (although the evidence for this is better in some places than in others) (Adams 2003). The infrastructure of empire also had a pronounced impact on the physical environments in which people lived. Roman land-surveyors divided up the countryside according to a standard set of measurements and laid out new cities on a distinctive grid pattern. Public buildings like basilicas and baths accustomed locals to Roman modes of business and relaxation. These and other architectural forms were often introduced at the initiative of indigenous elites (whose positions of power rested on Roman consent). A notable example of this kind of Romanization is the building program of Herod the Great, which involved the construction of Italian-style temples and amphitheaters in a number of cities (Roller 1998). The inclusion of amphitheaters, which had only recently become a permanent feature in the cityscape of Rome itself, among these monuments points to a way of thinking about Romanization that focuses less on the flow of influence from center to periphery and more on the collective emergence of a new set of cultural norms throughout the Mediterranean in the wake of Rome’s turbulent transition from republic to empire. The Imperial cult is another prime example of a form of Romanization that emerged as part of this broader cultural and political transformation. Divine honors for the living emperor originated under Augustus in the communities of Asia Minor, where they represented a continuation of the local practice of ruler cult offered to Hellenistic monarchs (Price 1994). This form of worship was deliberately avoided in Rome itself, where the posthumous deification of emperors became 684

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the norm instead. Over time, these two sets of practices combined and spread across the empire, emerging in the process as a more-or-less integrated expression of the unifying dominion of Rome. Ancient writers were clearly aware of the relationship between assimilation and the expansion of Roman power, but there is little evidence to suggest that Romanization was ever pursued as an official policy. Tacitus’ description of the arrival of rhetorical training and public baths in Britain as “what the ignorant called civilization but was really part of their enslavement” (Agr. 21) offers insight into the underlying rationale for introducing Roman-style amenities in the provinces. From the perspective of the imperial authorities, the aim was not to transform subalterns into Romans but simply to create more docile subjects. Where practical, the Romans largely avoided interference in local affairs, especially in matters of religion. Roman gods were often assimilated to local deities or worshipped alongside them, as a framework of global polytheism enabled the authorities to accommodate a variety of indigenous traditions. Judaism presented an obvious challenge to this pattern, but here the Romans’ preference for accommodating Jewish practice suggests that they had little interest in imposing strict control. The situation became more complicated following the Great Revolt, but in the period before the destruction of the Second Temple, Caligula’s aborted attempt to place his statue there stands as the exception that proves this rule.

Bibliography J. N. Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin Language (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). R. MacMullen, Romanization in the Time of Augustus (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000). D. Mattingly, “Vulgar and Weak ‘Romanization’, or Time for a Paradigm Shift?” JRA 15 (2002): 536–40. S. R. F. Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994). A. Wallace-Hadrill, Rome’s Cultural Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). G. Woolf, “Becoming Roman, Staying Greek: Culture, Identity and the Civilizing Process in the Roman East,” Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 40 (1994): 116–43. ANDREW B. GALLIA

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Education; Emperor Cult; Entertainment Structures; Hellenism and Hellenization; Imperial Cult, Jews and the; Multilingualism; Roman Religion.

Rome The earliest attested contacts between Jews and Rome are the embassies sent to the city by the Maccabees Judas and Simon and by the Hasmonean ruler John Hyrcanus in the face of Seleucid threats (1 Macc 8:1–32, 12:16, 14:24, 15:15–24; Josephus, Ant. 13.259–266). Perhaps a few Jews already dwelled there at that time; in any case, the population grew in subsequent decades. Pompey’s conquest of Palestine in 63 bce and subsequent Roman campaigns resulted in the arrival of numerous Jewish war captives (Ant. 14.70–71, 79, 85, 119–120, 487). Jewish slaves, like other slaves, would have typically received Roman citizenship upon manumission. They constituted one of many immigrant groups in Rome and

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probably numbered in the tens of thousands out of a total city population of approximately one million. Rome’s Jews felt sufficiently connected to their compatriots in Palestine that 8,000 reportedly turned out to support a delegation from Jerusalem opposing the enthronement of Archelaus following Herod’s death ca. 4 bce (Ant. 17.300). Philo notes that many lived in the Transtiberim (Trastevere) area, across the Tiber River from the main part of the city. They gathered on Sabbaths in multiple proseuchai, maintained their ancestral customs, and sent both pilgrims and money (presumably the Temple tax) to Jerusalem (Philo, Legat. 155–158). Roman writers like Cicero, Ovid, Juvenal, Martial, and Tacitus demonstrate awareness of Jews’ eastern origins and superficial familiarity with basic practices like circumcision, Sabbath observance, and avoidance of pork (Barclay 1996; Goodman 2007). Some of their comments are famously negative or hostile toward Judaism and reflect misunderstanding or misrepresentation of Jewish customs (e.g, Tacitus’ reflections on the Jewish Revolt in Hist. 5.1–13 and his explanation in 5.4 that Jews do not eat pork because pigs carry leprosy). Ancient historians claim that Jews were expelled from the city on at least two occasions, though differences in their accounts raise questions about the causes and extents of those expulsions, which in any case proved to be temporary. Tiberius banished Jews from the city ca. 19 ce, an action that Cassius Dio attributes to concerns about immigration and successful proselytizing and that Josephus explains as punishment for a scandal involving a Roman noblewoman who had converted (Cassius Dio 57.18.5a; Josephus, Ant. 18.65–84; cf. Tacitus, Ann. 2.85, Suetonius, Tib. 36.1). Claudius also expelled Rome’s Jews, perhaps ca. 49 ce. Acts 18:2 identifies Paul’s co-workers Aquila and Priscilla as affected expellees. Suetonius explains the policy as a response to disturbances instigated by a certain Chrestus (Claud. 25.4). Jews were not unique in experiencing expulsions; emperors drove other groups from the city at various times as well. Paul’s letter to the Romans indicates that the issue of Torah observance generated confusion and tensions in Christian house churches comprised of Jews and gentiles. Some scholars have interpreted Suetonius’ comment about Chrestus as a garbled reference to Christ, and deduced that the expulsion under Claudius was prompted by controversies over Christianity. However, because Chrestus is a well-attested proper name, that passage might simply refer to an otherwiseunknown individual and incident (Barclay 1996; Cappelletti 2006). Jews and Christians were sufficiently differentiated in 64 ce for Nero to blame only the latter for the great fire of Rome (Tacitus, Ann. 15.44). Literary sources show that members of imperial circles sometimes treated Jewish individuals and groups favorably (Goodman 2007). Nero’s mistress and later wife Poppaea Sabina was a fan of the Jewish actor Alityros, who introduced her to Josephus so that she might aid him on his mission to free imprisoned Jewish priests. On another occasion Poppaea sided with Jewish priests in their dispute with Agrippa II and Festus, the procurator of Judea (Ant. 20.194–5). Josephus lived on imperial largesse in Rome after defecting during the revolt (Life 423). Berenice, daughter of Agrippa I, was Titus’ consort for several years until he became emperor, at which point she left Rome (Tacitus, Hist. 2.2; Suetonius, Tit. 7.1; Cassius Dio, Hist. Rom. 66.15.3–4). Jews at Rome do not appear to have offered any significant support for the two revolts in Judea and thus avoided harsh reprisals from the state. Like all Jews in the Empire, however, they

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were subject to the new Fiscus Iudaicus, a two-drachma tax for the temple Jupiter Capitolinus that symbolically replaced the former Jewish Temple tax (Cassius Dio, Hist. Rom. 66.7.2; Josephus, J.W. 7.216–218). Roman Jews would have been aware of the victory parade at the Great Revolt’s conclusion, the Arch of Titus’ images of the looting of Temple looting, and numismatic representations of Judea Capta. Their numbers increased with the arrival of more Jewish war captives (Rutgers 1995; Barclay 1996). Jewish and Christian apocalyptic literature often portrayed Rome, the emperors, and the Roman army as Satanic enemies of the people of God destined to suffer eschatological wrath. Derisive references to oppressive military forces as kittim in Dead Sea Scrolls like 1QM and 1QpHab likely refer to Roman conquerors of Palestine. Revelation portrays Rome as a persecutor of Christians, with 17:18 identifying the famous Prostitute of Babylon as “the great city that has dominion over the kings of the earth,” the seven heads of her beastly steed representing “seven mountains,” an apparent reference to Rome’s famous seven hills (cf. further Rev 14:8; 16:19; 17:5; 18:2, 10, 21). Fourth Ezra and 2 Baruch likewise symbolically link Babylon and Rome, predicting the latter’s ultimate defeat (Collins 2016: 240–89; cf. further Ascen. Isa. 4:19 and Sib. Or. 5.138–139, 144, 158–177). Archaeological evidence for Roman Jews is scant prior to the well-known catacombs of the 2nd through 5th centuries ce, which show that the community remained sizable and included members from various social classes. The six catacombs illustrate the ways in which Roman Jews shared practices with the dominant culture while also finding ways to maintain a distinct identity. Jews obtained sarcophagi from the same workshops as their non-Jewish neighbors, and approximately 600 inscriptions demonstrate their use of Greek, and to a lesser extent Latin, as well as the adoption of names in both languages. Many of the artistic motifs are similar to those found in Christian catacombs, with the noteworthy exception of the avoidance figural representations. Jewish symbols such as the menorah, the lulab, and the ethrog also appear, as well as a relatively small number of Semitic inscriptions (Leon 1960; Rutgers 1995). At least eleven distinct synagogues are attested (Cappelletti 2006; see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region).

Bibliography S. Cappelletti, The Jewish Community of Rome: From the Second Century BC to the Third Century CE (Leiden: Brill, 2006). M. Goodman, Rome and Jerusalem: The Clash of Ancient Civilizations (New York: Random House, 2007). H. J. Leon, The Jews of Ancient Rome (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1960). L. V. Rutgers, The Jews in Late Ancient Rome: Evidence of Cultural Interaction in the Roman Diaspora (Leiden: Brill, 1995). MARK A. CHANCEY

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Baruch, Second Book of; Catacombs (Rome); Diaspora; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Habakkuk, Pesher of; Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of; Judas Maccabeus; Luke-Acts; Persecution, Religious; Revelation, Book of; Rights of Jews in the Roman World; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Romanization; Tribute and Taxes; War Scroll (1QM + 4QM Documents).

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Sabbath The Sabbath, a ritualized observance of rest every seventh day, is a hallmark of Jewish religion from the Second Temple period through the present day which nevertheless remains obscure in its precise origins. This seventh day is an essential component of membership in Israel in the Hebrew Bible (Exod 20:8–11; 31:13–17; Deut 5:12–15; Isa 56:6–7) that also serves as a scheme for constructing cosmology and temporality (Gen 2:2–3; Lev 23:15–16; 25:1–12). Moreover, the Sabbath is a marker of ethnicity, given the disparaging remarks of Greco-Roman authors (Tacitus, Hist. 5.4.3). Economic correspondence on ostraca found at Elephantine also refers to the Sabbath. Works in literary and legal genres elaborate on what observing Sabbath entailed and meant to different Jews during the Second Temple period. Jubilees expands on Sabbath practice and thought found in the Torah, resituating its promulgation and laws in the creation narrative and entry into the land (Jub. 2; 50). Jubilees prohibits work in general on the Sabbath (Jub. 2:17–29; cf. Exod 20:8; 31:13–14) while further prohibiting carrying burdens in or out of gates and homes (Jub. 2:29–30; 50:8; cf. Jer 17:19–27), conversing about work or travel (Jub. 50:8), and preparing sustenance (Jub. 2:29). Some of these prohibitions are paired with a retelling of the Priestly creation narrative where the angels and subsequently Israel are given the Sabbath in order to celebrate and worship the deity together (Jub. 2:17–21). The detailed restrictions are meant to set the holy people apart from other nations and to allow them to eat, drink, and praise the deity with his angels on the Sabbath day. Similar legal sentiments are found among the Dead Sea Scrolls, some of which may have originated with a community that occupied Khirbet Qumran for a time. The Damascus Document contains a section “concerning the Sabbath” (CD A x 14–xii 6) that prohibits work in the field (CD A x 20), eating of food not prepared before Sabbath (CD A x 22–23), and carrying burdens in or out of one’s domicile (CD A xi 9–10), also applying the latter rule to the sukkah (CD A xi 7–11) and even to small items (CD A xi 9–10). Fragments of halakic texts (4Q251, 4Q265, 4Q264a) reflect similar prohibitions with some differences in detail; these explicitly allow speaking of “holy matters” on the Sabbath (4Q264a; cf. CD A x 17–19). Qumran also revealed a 13-week cycle, now dubbed the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q400–407; 11Q7), which portrays priestly, angelic figures worshiping in a heavenly temple on different Sabbaths (cf. Ps 92). In the Greco-Roman milieu, Philo of Alexandria and Josephus focus their testimony regarding the Sabbath on what Jews do on the seventh day. Philo maintains that the ancient custom of the Sabbath was performed for the purpose of discussing ancestral philosophy and nature (Mos. 2.215–216) and provided the opportunity for reviewing the Lord’s commandments (Hypoth. 7.11; cf. Decal. 98). Similarly Josephus argues that the seventh day was set apart for relearning the law (Ant. 16.43; Ag. Ap. 2.175). While attendance to Sabbath observance was paramount, 1 Maccabees maintains that self-defense is justified on the Sabbath given that Greek forces attacked and destroyed some righteous, law-abiding Jews on the holy day (1 Macc 2:29– 37; 9.43–46; cf. Mek. Shabbata 1:14–16). In the New Testament, Jesus and his disciples observe the Sabbath, and the former teaches in synagogues on the holy day (Mark 6:2; Luke 4:16, 31; 13:10; cf. John 7:22–23); at the same time, how to observe the Sabbath serves as a foil for distinguishing Jesus’ view from that of other Jews on the matter. Jesus’ disciples are accused of plucking grain to eat on the Sabbath (Matt 12:1–8; Mark 2:23–28; Luke 6:1–5) while Jesus is accused of healing people on the seventh day 688

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(Mark 3:2–4; Luke 6:7–9; Matt 12:10–12), both of which are considered violations of Sabbath by their antagonists. Jesus defends his and his disciples’ actions using reasoning akin to rabbinic interpretation: acquiring nourishment is defended by the use of scriptural examples of David’s consumption of consecrated bread (Matt 12:3–4; Luke 6:4; Mark 2:25–26; cf. 1 Sam 21) and the work of priests in the Jerusalem Temple on the Sabbath (Matt 12:5), while healing is justified on the grounds that it preserves life (Mark 3:2–4; Matt 12:10–12; Luke 6:6–9; John 7:19–23; cf. Mek. Shabbata 1:15–20; 21–24). The book of Acts portrays the early followers of Jesus continuing to observe the Sabbath (Acts 13:14; 17:2; 18:4) while in the epistles Paul is less concerned with strict observance (Col 2:16; Gal 4:10; Rom 14:5). In early rabbinic literature, the subject of Sabbath is discussed extensively in the Mishnah (m. Šabb.) and in a separate tractate on the combination of domiciles to avoid violating Sabbath law (m. ‘Erub.). Tractate Shabbat enumerates 39 categories of prohibited work on the Sabbath (m. Šabb. 7) but makes some distinctions regarding these indictments. With regard to taking something into or out of a home, the Mishnah allows carrying things if done in a certain manner (m. Šabb. 10:3). Halakic midrashim like the Mekhilta De-Rabbi Ishmael contain rabbinic opinions that permit circumcision (Mek. Shabbata 1:15–20), the rescue of people from danger (Mek. Shabbata 1:20–25), and work in the sanctuary (Mek. Shabbata 1:3–4), but also stress rest even from the thought of labor on the Sabbath (Mek. Ba-Chodesh 7:75–79).

Bibliography L. Doering, Schabbat: Sabbathalacha und -Praxis im Antiken Judentum und Urchristentum, TSAJ 78 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999). R. Goldenberg, “The Place of the Sabbath in Rabbinic Judaism,” in Sabbath in Jewish and Christian Traditions, ed. T. C. Eskenazi, D. J. Harrington and W. H. Shea (New York: Crossroad, 1991), 31–44. J. H. Newman, “Priestly Prophets at Qumran: Summoning Sinai through the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice,” in The Significance of Sinai: Traditions About Sinai and Divine Revelation in Judaism and Christianity, ed. G. J. Brooke, H. Najman and L. Stuckenbruck, TBN 12 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 29–72. G. Robinson, The Origin and Development of the Old Testament Sabbath: A Comprehensive Exegetical Approach, BBET (Frankfurt am Main: P. Lang, 1988). P. W. van der Horst, “Was the Synagogue a Place of Sabbath Worship Before 70 CE?” in Japheth in the Tents of Shem: Studies on Jewish Hellenism in Antiquity, CBET 32 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 55–82. H. Weiss, A Day of Gladness: The Sabbath among Jews and Christians in Antiquity (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2003). RYAN C. STONER

Related entries: Calendars; Decalogue; Festivals and Holy Days; Holiness; Jesus of Nazareth; Jubilees, Book of; Pauline Letters; Sages.

Sacrifices and Offerings Sacrifices and offerings to the God of Israel were made in the First Jerusalem Temple, which was destroyed by the Babylonians in the early 6th century bce; they resumed in the Second Temple that endured from the Persian period to its destruction in 70 ce by the Romans. While it is impossible to be certain, it is generally assumed that the offerings made in the Second Temple resembled and resumed the patterns established in the Temple built by Solomon (De Vaux 1961: 415–23).

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The best evidence for actual sacrificial practice in the Second Temple is the Priestly material relating to cultic activity, concentrated in Leviticus and Numbers (esp. Lev 1–7; Num 15; 28–29). It prescribes whole burnt, grain, peace, purification, and guilt offerings, as well as grain and animal first fruit offerings and consecration offerings. Various of these could function to fulfill a vow, give thanksgiving, obtain purification, make reparation for guilt, or meet daily or festival offering obligations. The range of physical material deemed acceptable included salt, grain, incense, wood, birds (doves, turtledoves, pigeons), and small and large animals (goats, sheep, and cattle). All materials offered had to be pure and free of defect. As to their purpose at a meta-level, all sacrifices functioned most fundamentally to facilitate the layperson’s contact with God: the “pleasant odor” of the cooked meat or grain offering drew God’s attention to the person who brought the offering so that the layperson’s more particular intent (e.g. to fulfill a vow) could be achieved. Scholars of the history of religions offer a range of important theories about the meta-level function of sacrifice as well (e.g. E. B. Tylor, J. G. Frazer; see Anderson 1992). During the Second Temple period, the places of sacrifice and offering were not limited to the Jerusalem Temple. The Elephantine papyri—letters, legal texts, and other documents left behind by Judeans serving in a military installation in Upper Egypt from the 6th to late 5th centuries bce— indicate that a temple of YHWH served the needs of the military settlers at the site from before Persian rule in Egypt until 410 bce, when the temple was destroyed by neighbors likely opposed to the cult of YHWH. The Jews living there made animal, grain, and incense sacrifices in the temple with the assistance of priests assigned to the cult center (Porten 1968). Another temple in Egypt, dating to the 2nd century bce, is associated with Onias IV and was located at Leontopolis, in the Nile Delta (see Josephus, Ant. 13.62–73; see Delcor). Notably both temples were in violation of the pre–Second Temple period Deuteronomic prohibition of sacrifice anywhere but in Jerusalem (Deut 12:1–12). There is a considerable body of Second Temple literature, aside from the Priestly tradition, that touches on sacrifice and offerings, which may be assigned to three rough categories corresponding to four broadly defined perspectives on the cult: texts that offer unqualified approval of the Temple cult and/or straightforward description of sacrifices and offerings; texts which argue that the Jerusalem cult be renewed and reformed; and texts that advocate the cult be rejected and replaced. The first category includes texts like Sirach, which urges honor for the priests and participation in the cult (Sir 7:29–31; 35:1–13; 45:6–26; 50), and Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities, which describes priestly attire, prebends, and sacrifices and offerings in detail and with little difference from the Priestly accounts (Ant. 3.214–257). The renewal category forms a trajectory traceable from the Holiness Code (on reading the Holiness Code as a protest against the Priestly Work, see Kugler) through Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah, and Haggai in the Hebrew Bible, and further in 4QMMT and other works found among the Dead Sea Scrolls which seem to urge corrections to the Priestly outlook, not outright rejection of the Temple cult in Jerusalem; see, e.g., Jubilees 21, which appears in 4Q219–220. Some of the reform proposals offered in the texts listed are rather modest (e.g. Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah), while others are more demanding (e.g. 4QMMT, Jubilees), and some fall just short of a reject-and-replace stance (e.g. Holiness Code).

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The reject-and-replace trajectory is traceable from Third Isaiah and Malachi through, among other texts, 1 Enoch 12–16, Aramaic Levi Document, and some Dead Sea Scrolls, most prominently the Community Rule (see ix 4–5) and arguably the Temple Scroll. The latter text seems to be an anticipatory account of Temple rituals, including sacrifices and offerings, as they will be practiced in a future age when the corrupt Temple and priesthood to which the Qumran Yaḥad objected had passed away. Notably, though, the Temple Scroll largely carries forward the prescriptions of the Priestly writing, adjusting mostly by addition, especially to the array of prescribed festivals, adding ones for new wine and oil and for providing wood for the altar (1QTa xix–xxv). A final type of texts bears mentioning as well: those that use sacrifices and offerings as metaphors for other modes of expressing piety or as vehicles for talking about piety. Philo stands out in this regard, with his allegorical reading of the biblical text. See, e.g., his characterization of human intellect and understanding and their outward expression as gifts from God as akin to offering a sacrifice of first fruits (Sacr. 87).

Bibliography G. A. Anderson, “Sacrifice and Sacrificial Offerings: Old Testament,” ABD (1992), 5:870–86. M. Delcor, “Le Temple d’Onias en Egypte,” RB 75 (1968): 188–203. R. Kugler, “Rewriting Rubrics; Sacrifice and the Religion of Qumran,” in Religion in the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. J. J. Collins and R. A. Kugler (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 90–112. B. Porten, Archives from Elephantine, the Life of an Ancient Jewish Military Colony (Berkeley: University of California, 1968). ROBERT KUGLER

Related entries: Atonement; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Ben Sira; Chronicles, Books of; Deuteronomistic Theology; Ezra, Book of; Festivals and Holy Days; High Priests; Holiness; Jubilees, Book of; Leviticus, Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Nehemiah, Book of; Numbers, Book of; Oniads; Priesthood; Purification and Purity; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Sadducees Introduction.  The Sadducees (‫צדוקים‬, ṣadduqim, Σαδδουκαῖοι, saddoukaioi) were a religious and social party that played a dominant role in the history of the high priesthood, the Jerusalem Temple, and Jewish law from the Hasmonean period to 70 ce. Josephus mentions them, alongside the Pharisees and the Essenes, as one of the three Jewish “sects” or groups (αἱρέσις, hairesis in J.W. 2.119, 166; Ant. 13.171, 293; 20.199; Life 10; called “philosophy” in Ant. 18.11). He characterizes them as rich and aristocratic (Ant. 13.298; 18.16–17). Rabbinic sources refer to the Sadducees quite frequently, mostly as the adversaries of the Pharisees or early rabbis with regard to Jewish religious laws (halakah) (m. ʿErub. 6:2; m. Yad. 4:6–7). The Sadducees are mentioned several times in the New Testament, where they are considered Jesus’ adversaries, together with the Pharisees (Matt 3:7; 16:1, 6, 11); in the Dead Sea Scrolls they are nicknamed Manasseh and described as those who persecuted the Yaḥad sect (4Q169 Nahum Pesher 3–4 iii 9, iv 1, iv 3; 4Q171 Pesher Psalmsa 1–2 ii 17). Religion and Halakhah.  The Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection of the body nor did they subscribe to the persistence of the soul after death. They also denied divine providence, 691

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maintaining that “all things lie within our own power” and “man has a free choice of good or evil”; thus they “remove God beyond the very sight of evil” (Ant. 13.173; J.W. 2.164–165). In Mark 12:18–27 and par. they refuted Jesus regarding belief in the resurrection. In presenting the core of the debate between the Pharisees and Sadducees, Josephus asserts that “the Pharisees had passed on to the people certain regulations handed down by former generations and not recorded in the Laws of Moses, for which reasons they are rejected by the Sadducean group, who hold that only those regulations should be considered valid which were written down and that those which had been handed down by former generations need not be observed” (Ant. 13.297). Hence the Sadducees rejected the Pharisaic traditions of the oral law. Josephus also mentioned that the Sadducees were stricter than the Pharisees regarding their penal law (Ant. 13.294; 20.199; cf. J.W. 2.166). More than 20 halakic disputes between the Pharisees and Sadducees are mentioned in rabbinic literature. These disputes relate to Sabbath laws, calendar, sacrificial cult, purity, and penal laws. In virtually all cases, the Sadducees hold stricter and/or older views than the Pharisees or rabbis. This pattern is apparent in early rabbinic texts. For example, the Sadducees demanded that the red heifer (whose ashes purify corpse impurity, cf. Num 19) be burned by a high priest who is entirely pure at sundown (i.e. immersed in a ritual bath and then waited until sundown to emerge). They opposed the view of the Pharisees, who permitted burning it in a state of incomplete levitical purity, tebul yom, i.e., even when the high priest had immersed but did not wait until sundown (m. Parah 3:7–8). The Sadducees held that on the Day of Atonement, the high priest should burn the incense in the heikhal before he enters the devir (the qodesh qodashim, the inner sancta). The Pharisees, on the other hand, insisted that the high priest should first enter the devir and then burn the incense therein (m. Yoma 5:1). The Sadducees also rebuked the Pharisees for letting the laity touch the Temple Menorah and defile it during the festival (t. Ḥag. 3:35). They also required physical punishment for the one who damaged his fellow’s body, literally interpreting the command of an “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” The Pharisees, on the other hand, deduced that these verses allude to monetary compensation equal to the physical damage (Scholion to Megillat Taʿanit on 10 Tammuz, Ms. Oxford). Some of the Sadducean laws in rabbinic literature resemble those in the Temple Scroll and 4QMMT (Schiffman 1995: 157–72). But there are also differences; for instance, the calendars do not match (cf. Regev 2005). The philosophical or anthropological core of most of the disputes may reside in different perceptions of holiness and how far one should go in defending the sacred from pollution and desecration. History.  The Sadducees appeared as a party in the beginning of the Hasmonean period, but it seems that the Pharisees had the upper hand until the end of the reign of John Hyrcanus, who became a Sadducee a few years before his death (Ant. 13:288–299; cf. b. Qidd. 66a). Hyrcanus annulled the laws of the Pharisees, and his son, Alexander Jannaeus, continued the Sadducean trend. The latter faced a civil war within his own Jewish people, which was really a war against the Pharisee party. Jannaeus’ wife, Alexandra, later cooperated with the Pharisees against the Sadducees. One of their sons, Aristobulus II, was probably a Sadducee (4Q169 Nahum Pesher frags. 3–4, iv 3–4). Several sources refer to or imply that many of the high priests from Herod to the Great Revolt were Sadducees, such as Ananus son of Ananus (Ant. 20.199), who later headed the government 692

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during the Great Revolt (J.W. 2.563; 4.318–325, 151, 162–206). The followers of Joseph Caiaphas were Sadducees (Acts 5:17), hence Caiaphas himself seems to have been a Sadducee. Ishmael son of Phiabi II confronted the early rabbis in relation to the Sadducean halakah of burning the red heifer in a state of complete purity after sundown (t. Parah 3.6). The Boethusians were a group that the rabbis mention interchangeably with the Sadducees to whom they attribute Sadducean laws. They should be identified with the high priests of the house of Boethos, first nominated by Herod and regarded as a part of the Sadducean party. The Sadducees and Pharisees struggled for control of the Temple cult. Both sides tried to force the others to follow their laws (m. Yoma 1:5; t. Sukkah 3:1; t. Parah 3.8). Rabbinic literature mentions how the Pharisees defeated the Sadducees, especially in regard to laws pertaining to the Temple cult. Josephus also says that the Sadducees submitted unwillingly to the Pharisees (Ant. 18.17). In actuality, however, the Sadducees maintained the upper hand during most of the period. Sadducean high priests had the official political authority at the Temple. Furthermore, rabbinic traditions mention Pharisaic laws as being practiced at the Temple only ca. 50 ce, in the days of Gamliel, Simon son of Gamliel, and Jonathan ben Zakkai (e.g. t. Sanh. 2:6; t. Parah 3.8). It seems that the Sadducean decline mentioned by Josephus and the rabbis occurred during this later period.

Bibliography E. Regev, “Qumranic Halakhah in Comparison with Sadducean Halakhah,” DSD 12 (2005): 158–88. EYAL REGEV

Related entries: Death and Afterlife; Hasmonean Dynasty; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Nahum, Pesher of; Psalms, Pesher of; Purification and Purity; Resurrection; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sages; Worship; Zadokites.

Sages The term “Sages” denotes men with extensive knowledge of the Law (in later periods called halakah) who engaged in its disciplined interpretation as well as in its transmission. Like other intellectual elites in the Greco-Roman world, sages’ influence derived chiefly from the recognition given them by their students and the public, though they typically lacked formal authority. After the destruction of the Second Temple (70 ce) the sages’ dissemination of halakah as the requisite Jewish lifestyle profoundly influenced the perception of Judaism and Jews for subsequent generations (cf. Urbach 1975: 2–3). The origins of the sages as a group that would evolve into a distinctive intellectual elite is obscure. The principal components of the sages’ worldview are nascent in the depiction of Ezra the Scribe’s activities in Judea, an enterprise attributed to the middle of the Persian period (5th cent. bce). Though Ezra was of priestly lineage (Ezra 7:5), he is referenced mainly in connection with Torah study. Ezra’s commission from Artaxerxes details that authority would be invested in him to implement a judicial system based on Pentateuchal law (Ezra 7:25–26). Ezra’s crowning achievement, according to the book of Ezra-Nehemiah, is his instruction of the nation in the ways of the Torah and its interpretation (Neh 8). Ezra thus embodies the shift from a scholarly, priestly elite as well as the importance attached by the sages to individual observance of the commandments by every member of the Jewish people (e.g. Bickerman 1962: 67–71; Schürer 1979: 322–23).

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Scant documentation exists regarding activity in Judea in general and the development of rabbinic activity, specifically from the Persian period until the early Hasmonean period (mid2nd cent. bce; Fraade 1990: 420–23). Later sources depict the sages as a scribal community, apparently affiliated with the Temple, that engaged in the conservation of Pentateuchal texts and their literal interpretation. The Wisdom of Ben Sira is emblematic of this scribal milieu in that it stresses the importance of wisdom—i.e. Torah and Torah scholarship—and demonstrates profound regard for the Temple and the high priest (Bickerman 1988: 161–76). Concern with Torah teaching was manifest in several movements during the Second Temple period. During the Hasmonean period, the Pharisees emerged as a cohesive social group (cf. Saldarini 1988: 277–97). They were distinguished mainly by their commitment to ancestral traditions and to Pentateuchal law (Josephus, J.W. 2.162; Ant. 17.41, 18.12), and they wielded extensive public influence (Josephus, Ant. 17.41, 18.15). Their stringent adherence to Pentateuchal law and to the ordinances and customs accreted over time is particularly accentuated in their disputations with Jesus (e.g. Mark 2:23–24). Another manifestation of sage teaching emerged in the group associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls, which called itself the Yaḥad. This group also upheld the study of Torah and adherence to its laws as central tenets of their worldview (cf. Schiffman 1995: 83–89). The group’s founder, whose name and lineage (apparently priestly) are not explicitly mentioned in the Dead Sea Scrolls, is called the “Teacher of Righteousness.” This designation, together with the depiction of his activities and actions, reveals that he was perceived primarily as someone who could interpret Torah and instruct others in its guidelines. The end of the Second Temple period saw a proliferation of sages who expounded Torah to wide audiences. Jesus, e.g., first embarked on his ministry by instructing the public assembled in synagogue during the Sabbath (Mark 1:21–22; Luke 4:16), a practice for which he was even called “Rabbi” (e.g. Mark 9:5; 11:21; 14:45; John 1:38, 49; 3:2, 6). In view of this background data, the sages who operated in the mishnaic and talmudic periods have become enshrined by research as the Pharisees’ successors (e.g. Schürer 1979: 402–3). Despite the affinity between basic rabbinic and ostensibly Pharisaic conceptions, it is noteworthy that the sages of the first post-destruction generation did not self-identify as Pharisees. This almost certainly stems from the sages’ understanding that the sectarianism of the Second Temple period was a threat to the continued existence of the Jewish people, as shall be explained below. The destruction of the Temple in 70 ce boosted the relevance and indispensability of basic rabbinic conceptions in an unprecedented manner. Even while the Temple stood, the realization that prophecy had expired as a consistent phenomenon, and perhaps even had ceased altogether, was gaining credence (1 Macc 4:44–46; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.41). The sages determined that prophecy had ceased at the beginning of the Second Temple period. Seder Olam, a chronographic work written soon after the destruction, asserts that up to the time of Alexander the Macedonian “prophets would prophesy through the Holy Spirit; from here and on ‘Incline your ear and hear the words of the wise’ (Prov 22:17)” (S. ͑Olam Rab. 30). The destruction of the Temple also sealed off the possibility of worshiping God and experiencing religious sanctity through the Temple and its sacrificial rites. The stage was thus set for rabbinic initiative. Under the leadership of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai in Yavne, the groundwork for refashioning Jewish life in the absence of the Temple was laid and the halakah became the focal point of the rabbinic enterprise. Ideally, halakah encompasses all aspects and phases of an individual’s life. The sages proposed the halakic life as the means through which a Jew might experience sanctity in this world and 694

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as a conduit to life in the world to come. In Yavne, prayer was instituted as a substitute for the sacrificial cult and a lengthy process of collating halakic traditions and establishing one binding halakic norm was initiated. The Mishnah, redacted in the early 3rd century ce, contains laws governing all spheres of life—from agriculture, the holidays, personal status, torts, and financial law, to laws of the Temple and its sacrifices. Toward the end of the Second Temple period, the sages’ public influence and prestige was well known. The destruction of the Temple in 70 ce, followed by the failure of the Bar Kokhba revolt (135 ce), wrought immense changes in the fabric of Jewish society. Until recent decades, the sages were widely viewed as the leaders of Jewish society and religion in the post-destruction era. A careful and more critical reading of rabbinic literature, together with unanticipated archaeological discoveries, has modified this conception significantly. Almost ten late-antique synagogues adorned with zodiacal images have been uncovered, some with Helios, the sun god, depicted at the center of the zodiac wheel (Hammath Tiberias, Beit Alpha, and to a certain extent, Sepphoris). The installation of a blatantly pagan image at the heart of the synagogue, in contravention of the Mishnah (m. ͑Abod. Zar. 3.1), has led scholars to the conclusion that these synagogues serviced communities that did not feel beholden to the sages or even, perhaps, to rabbinic strictures (e.g. Neusner 1999; Miller 2004). Nevertheless, rabbinic influence grew and intensified throughout Late Antiquity. The dissolution of time-honored institutions, such as the priesthood and the office of nasi, left the sages as the only significant body that deemed itself capable of leading the Jewish public and believed itself worthy of this mission.

Bibliography E. J. Bickerman, From Ezra to the Last of the Maccabees: Foundations of Postbiblical Judaism (New York: Schocken, 1962). E. J. Bickerman, The Jews in the Greek Age (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988). S. J. D. Cohen, “The Rabbi in Second-Century Jewish Society,” Cambridge History of Judaism 3 (1999), 922–90. S. D. Fraade, “The Early Rabbinic Sage,” in The Sage in Israel and in the Ancient Near East, eds. by J. B. Gammie and L. G. Perdue (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 417–36. S. S. Miller, “‘Epigraphical’ Rabbis, Helios, and Psalm 19: Were the Synagogues of Archaeology and the Synagogues of the Sages One and the Same?,” JQR 94 (2004): 27–76. J. Neusner, “The Iconography of Judaisms,” in Approaches to Ancient Judaism: New Series, ed. by J. Neusner (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999), 139–56. E. E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, Hebrew University, 1975). MEIR BEN-SHAHAR

Related entries: Ezra, Book of; Hillel; Jesus of Nazareth; Revolt, Second Jewish; Scribes and Scribalism; Shammai; Talmud, Babylonian; Talmud, Jerusalem; Tosefta; Yohanan Ben Zakkai.

Salome Alexandra Shelamzion/Salome Alexandra (76–67 bce) was the only Hasmonean queen regnant. Although Josephus refers to her by the Greek name Alexandra (Ἀλεξάνδρᾳ), the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q331;

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4Q332) reveal that Shelamzion (‫ )שלמציון‬was her Semitic name. In other Greek writings she is called either Salome (Σαλώμη) or Salina (Σαλίνα). She should likely be distinguished from Salina/ Salome Alexandra, the wife of Judah Aristobulus (Josephus, J.W. 1.85; Ant. 13.320; Atkinson 2012: 96–102). According to Josephus, Shelamzion’s husband, Alexander Jannaeus, chose her to succeed him to the throne just before his death. Once in power she appointed her eldest son, Hyrcanus II, as high priest. During Shelamzion’s tenure her youngest son, Aristobulus II, led her army. The writings of Josephus (J.W. 108–19; Ant. 13.407–32) are the major extant sources for Shelamzion; unfortunately, they are rather brief and highly structured and do not document the entirety of her time in office. Josephus incorporated material from Nicolaus of Damascus into his accounts of her and supplemented it with other unknown sources. The result is a contradictory evaluation of her rule that is likely not in chronological order (Atkinson 2012: 141–60). Several Christian writers, especially George Syncellus, and Rabbinic literature preserve some additional information about her reign. Several Qumran texts (e.g. Nahum Pesher; Hosea Pesher) likely allude to some of the events that occurred during Shelamzion’s time in power (Atkinson 2012: 161–89; Ilan 2006: 35–41). Josephus portrays the reign of Shelamzion as quite turbulent because of the conflict between her two sons. Aristobulus II led two insurrections against her (J.W. 1.113–14, 117–19; Ant. 13.411–15, 422–29). However, it is possible that Josephus’ accounts are not in chronological order and he only tried to take power just before her death (Atkinson 2012: 203–9). Her most significant accomplishment, according to Josephus’ accounts, was her restoration of the Pharisaic regulations that John Hyrcanus had abolished (Ant. 13.408–9, 415). Yet, Josephus also claims that she was so devoted to the Pharisees that they dominated the government and caused great political instability. According to Josephus, Shelamzion’s husband, Alexander Jannaeus, chose her as his political successor only because the Pharisees supported her (Ant. 13.398–406; cf. J.W. 1.107). Shelamzion allowed them to execute several of his former advisors who had urged him to massacre 800 of his Jewish opponents. The design of the palaces she built for her two sons may reflect the halakic differences between the Pharisees (=Hyrcanus II) and the Sadducees (=Aristobulus II) (Regev 2013: 255–57). Despite his largely negative descriptions of Shelamzion, Josephus emphasizes her piety and portrays her as an excellent administrator. He praises her decision to double the size of her army, which made nations wary of attacking the Hasmonean state (J.W. 1.107–9; Ant. 13.430–32). Her kingdom largely enjoyed peace and economic prosperity during her reign. Josephus records one major military campaign she undertook against the Iturean ruler Ptolemy, the son of Mennaeus, who was harassing the city of Damascus. In both his books, Josephus states that it failed to accomplish anything noteworthy (J.W. 1.115; Ant. 13.418). Shelamzion also sent her army to Ptolemais when the Armenian ruler, Tigranes II, besieged the Seleucid monarch, Cleopatra Selene. In his Jewish Antiquities Josephus claims that Tigranes captured Ptolemais, and presumably Cleopatra Selene. But according to Strabo, Tigranes later fought Cleopatra Selene in Syria (J.W. 1.116; Ant. 13.419–21; Strabo, Geogr. 24.4–8). Josephus’ conflicting accounts make it difficult to reconstruct Shelamzion’s relationship with Tigranes and Cleopatra Selene. Josephus’ accounts of Shelamzion emphasize the strife between her and her youngest son, Aristobulus II. He apparently enjoyed sizable support, since he took control of several strategic fortresses just before her death. Aristobulus II also managed to amass his own army and hire mercenaries to remove his brother, Hyrcanus II, from power. He justified his revolt by claiming that if he did not seize power from her, then the Pharisees would take control of the country. His 696

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ability to recruit men to seize power suggests that Shelamzion was incapacitated during the final months of her reign and that her son, Hyrcanus II, had little control over affairs (Dąbrowa 2010: 94–102). Shelamzion tried to stop Aristobulus II’s rebellion by imprisoning his family, and before her death, she gave Hyrcanus II authority to take any necessary measure to stop him. Despite the challenge from Aristobulus II, Hyrcanus II managed to succeed her as king and to continue serving as the high priest.

Bibliography K. Atkinson, Queen Salome: Jerusalem’s Warrior Monarch of the First Century B.C.E. (Jefferson: McFarland, 2012). T. Ilan, Silencing the Queen: The Literary Histories of Shelamzion and Other Jewish Women (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006). KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Crucifixion; Hasmonean Dynasty.

Samaria Region.  The region of Samaria in the Persian and Hellenistic periods continued its provincial status, which originally was given to the ancient Kingdom of Israel (commonly known as Bit Humria in Assyrian sources [9th–8th cent. bce]) from Sargon II’s conquest of the kingdom around 720 bce. Naming the province after its principal city, Sargon called it Sa-ma-ri-na (Akkad.), which in its Aramaic form became Shamrin/Shomron (‫שמרין‬/‫שמרן‬, šmr[y]n) in the Persian period and was written Samareia (Σαμαρεια) in Greek. “Israel” thus disappeared as an official name for the region, but was later appropriated by its southern neighbor Judea/Yehud in the Roman period. The appropriation, however, was literary and belonged to cultural memory rather than to Yehud’s official status. The name Samaria means “to guard” or “to observe,” such as was the purpose of the city of Samaria, which was situated about 100 m above the surrounding valleys as well as the northsouth and east-west crossroads. The borders of the region were quite stable from the Assyrian to the Hasmonean periods (see Map 7: Hasmonean Rule [I] [160–103 bce]). They were defined by the Valley of Jezreel and the province of Megiddo to the north, the Beth Shean and the Jordan River valleys to the east, and the Coastal Plain and the province of Dor to the west. The southern border remains uncertain, but seems to have been the northern border of the province of Yehud on the Jericho-Nasbeh-Ekron line. Population.  Minor population transference had occurred by the time of the Assyrian conquest in the 8th century bce with the immigration of Midianite tribes, but the majority of the kingdom’s population remained, and the material culture does not exhibit major changes from the Iron II to the late Hellenistic period. In the Persian period, Samaria’s population was concentrated around the city of Samaria and in the Dothan Valley; however, from the Seleucid period onwards, agricultural settlements expanded all over Samaria, producing a considerable increase in food, oil, and wine production. Geo-politics.  From the reign of Darius I, Samaria became part of the fifth satrapy, ‫אבר נהרה‬, ʾbr nhrh (literally, “across the river” [Euphrates]), which according to Herodotus (Hist. III. 91) contained the whole of Phoenicia, that part of Syria called Palestine, and Cyprus (Briant 697

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2002: 49). Governors of the demographically, geographically, and economically superior region of Samaria might also have supervised affairs in Yehud in the early Persian period (cf. Fried 2004: 178–88). Some of their names can be established in the 5th and 4th century bce from coins, seals, and papyri (Elephantine and Wadi Daliyeh): Sanballat (ca. 450–410 /407); Delayah, son of Sanballat (until ca. 370); Shelemyah (son of Sanballat); Hananyah/‘Ananya (ca. 354); and Yeshua/Yeshaiah (second half of the 4th cent. bce) (Leith 1997; Dušek 2007 and 2012). Alexander the Great conquered Samaria in 330 bce and stationed Andromachus as governor in the city of Samaria. When the population revolted, Alexander resettled Samaria and nearby Shechem with Macedonian troops. Both cities were heavily damaged by the Seleucids around the turn of the 3rd to the 2nd century bce (Figure 4.129). Part of the population moved to nearby Mount Gerizim and built Kiryat Luzah, which became the central town of the Samaritans, with public buildings (plan no. 1, 3), workplaces, and a large cult place, housing some 10,000 people. The Yahwistic cult place on Mount Gerizim was already in existence by the early mid-5th century bce (gray structures, no. 6–9, 11, 14, 24), and it was greatly enlarged during the late 3rd century bce (black structures, no. 3–5, 10–13, 15–23) (Magen 2007 and 2008). The cult place had three gates (no. 2, 13–14, 23), which in the Hellenistic period were constructed with watchtowers

Figure 4.129  Plan of sacred precinct at Mount Gerizim.

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(no. 4, 12, 16), fortified enclosures (no. 5 and 15), and courtyards (17–18). The monumental eastern staircase (no. 19) also had a gate at its bottom (no. 20). Residential quarters gradually arose around the cult place and spread to the south and west, spanning some 500 × 800 m (ca. 400 dunams). Residential quarters to the north (no. 21–22) were of a different style and may have been shops and hostels serving visiting pilgrims. No. 8 in the image is interpreted as the foundations of the Samaritan temple building, but it is uncertain whether there was such a building inside the enclosure. No. 7 is understood to be “the twelve stones” (Deut 27:4; Josh 8:32). No. 25 is a natural flat rock, the “Everlasting Hill,” holy to the Samaritans and considered to be Yahweh’s dwelling place (Deut 33:15). These descendants of Israel’s ancient population called themselves “shamerim” or “shomerim,” i.e. guardians or observers of the “Torah,” the “Five Books of Moses” (the Pentateuch) in its Samaritan version. Around 110 bce, the Hasmonean ruler John Hyrcanus conquered and destroyed the city and temple on Mount Gerizim; soon afterward, in 107 bce, the city of Samaria and ancient Shechem (Tell Balatah) met the same fate. When Palestine was conquered by Pompey in 63 bce, the Samaritan regions were freed from Jewish control and became part of the Roman province of Syria. This situation changed again, however, when Herod the Great (40–4 bce) and his son Archelaus (4 bce–6 ce) ruled as ethnarchs over Palestine (Kasher 1995). Herod continued the rebuilding and fortification of the city of Samaria, changing its name to Sebaste, constructing a temple dedicated to the Roman emperor Augustus, and populating the city with pagan immigrants. Herod did not allow the Samaritans to rebuild the city and temple on Mount Gerizim; other, later attempts at restoring Samaritan institutions in the Roman period were unsuccessful. From 72 ce, garrisons and pagan inhabitants with their own temples and institutions were placed in rebuilt Shechem to prevent the Samaritans from entering Mount Gerizim after they revolted in 67 ce (Josephus, J.W. 3.307–315; Magen, 2008a: 41–50; Hjelm 2016). Religion.  The worship of Yahweh (and Asherah) is widely attested in iconography and epigraphy from the 9th century bce (cf. the Mesha Stela; Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, Khirbet el-Qom, and Assyrian inscriptions; Samaria Ostraca; see Knoppers 2006: 273–79; Schmidt 2016). A high percentage of personal names contain the theophoric element Yah/Yau. Nevertheless, Samarian coins (Meshorer and Qedar 1991) and seals as well as documents from Wadi el-Daliyeh and Elephantine also expose worship of other deities such as Qos, Sahar, Kemosh, Ba’al, Anat, and Nabu among the population. In the Persian/Hellenistic period Yahweh worship became more “biblical”; especially the Gerizim inscriptions and findings expose no syncretism or worship of other gods (Hjelm 2016). Further, these periods attest to religious and cultural correspondence between Samaria and Judea, consisting of similar use of languages (Aramaic and Hebrew), scripts, and archaized seal impressions inscribed in paleo-Hebrew, along with significant overlap in personal names and predominance of Yahwistic personal names (Knoppers 2013: 102–34). Both cooperation and competition for sovereignty between these regions led to outright enmity during the Maccabean period. Some of this animosity is reflected in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah and in Josephus (Ant. 11–13), but these works cannot be used as historical documents in regard to the real events and circumstances of the 6th–2nd centuries bce.

Bibliography J. Dušek, Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions from Mt. Gerizim and Samaria between Antiochus III the Great and Antiochus IV Epiphanes (Leiden: Brill 2012). 699

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L. S. Fried, The Priest and the Great King. Temple-Palace Relations in the Persian Empire (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2004). I. Hjelm, “Lost and Found? A Non-Jewish Israel from the Merneptah Stele to the Byzantine Period,” in History, Archaeology and the Bible Forty Years after “Historicity,” ed. I. Hjelm and T. L. Thompson, Changing Perspectives 6 (London: Routledge, 2016), 112–29. A. Kasher, “Josephus on Jewish-Samaritan Relations under Roman Rule (bce 63– ce 70),” in New Samaritan Studies of the Société d’Études Samaritaines: Essays in Honour of G.D. Sixdenier, III–IV, ed. A. D. Crown and L. Davey, Studies in Judaica 5 (Sydney: Mandelbaum, 1995), 217–36. G. N. Knoppers, “Revisiting the Samaritan Question in the Persian Period,” in Judah and the Judaeans in the Persian Period, ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 265–89. Y. Magen, “The Dating of the First Fase of the Samaritan Temple on mount Gerizim in Light of the Archaeological Evidence,” in Judah and Judaeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E., ed. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers and R. Alberz (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns 2007), 157–211. Y. Magen, The Samaritans and the Good Samaritan, trans. E. Levin, Judea & Samaria Publications 7 (Jerusalem: Staff Officer of Archaeology, Civil Administration of Judea and Samaria, 2008a). Y. Meshorer and S. Qedar, The Coinage of Samaria in the Fourth Century bce (Jerusalem: Numismatics Fine Arts International, 1991). B. B. Schmidt, “Gender Marking, Overlapping and the Identity of the Bes-Like Figures at Kuntillet Ajrud,” in History, Archaeology and the Bible Forty Years after “Historicity,” ed. I. Hjelm and T. L. Thompson, Changing Perspectives 6 (London: Routledge, 2016), 85–111. INGRID HJELM

Related entries: Architecture; Bethshean (Scythopolis); Multilingualism; Persian Period; Samaria-Sebaste; Samaritan Pentateuch; Samaritanism; Seals and Seal Impressions.

Samaria-Sebaste Samaria-Sebaste (‫שמרין‬, shomron) was an ancient city situated in the Shomron Mountains in the Land of Israel. According to the biblical story the city was established as the capital city of the Northern Kingdom of Israel during the 9th century bce by Omri, who purchased the hill from Shemer (1 Kgs 16:24). Sargon II gained control of the city in 722/721 bce during the Assyrian conquest of Israel. Many of the original city’s inhabitants were deported to Assyria while new inhabitants were brought in from Babylon, Cuthah, Ava, Hamath, and Sepharvaim (2 Kgs 17:5–6, 24). Those elements merged with the local Israelites to form the new Samaritan population (known in the rabbinical literature as Kuthim). During the Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian periods the city was the capital of the “province of Shomron,” settled mainly by Samaritans. Sanballat and a few other governors of Shomron are mentioned in sources from the Persian period, such as the Book of Nehemiah (3:33–34), the Elephantine Papyri, and the Wadi Daliyeh Papyri. At the end of the Persian period the city-minted coins bearing the name of the city or personal names (Meshorer and Qedar 1999). In 332 bce Alexander the Great deported the Samaritan population from the city and converted it into a military Macedonian settlement after a rebellion against the Greek governor Andromachus. As a result, the city’s character changed, becoming a typical Hellenistic colony now called “Samaria.” The city fortifications and three Hellenistic towers have been discovered from this period. 700

Samaria-Sebaste

Figure 4.130  General plan of the city during the early Roman period.

Figure 4.131  Isometric reconstruction of the Augustem.

John Hyrcanus, the Hasmonean king, conducted a siege against the city in 108/107 bce as part of his campaign against the gentile population in Israel. Eventually, he succeeded in capturing the city, causing great destruction (Josephus, Ant, 13.275–281; J.W. 1.64–65). Jewish rabbinical sources later called the date of this event a joyous day (Megillat Taʿan. 8:25). After the conquest of Judea by the Romans in 63 bce, Pompey decided to transfer Samaria from the Hasmonean territory to the Province of Syria; he and Gabinius resettled the city with gentile population (Josephus, J.W. 1.155–157, 165–166). In 25 bce Herod founded a new Roman city in Samaria and granted it the name Sebaste in honor of Octavian, the Roman emperor (Figure 4.130; see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). He brought 6,000 settlers, surrounded the area with walls, and built the Augusteum, a temple dedicated to the emperor ([Figure 4.131] Josephus, J.W. 1.403). The foundations of this temple were discovered during the excavations of the Harvard University expedition (Reisner, Fisher, and Lyon 1924). The best unit in the army of Herod, called Sebastene, was recruited from the inhabitants of Sebaste, who were great supporters of the Romans and opposed the Jews. The Jews burned the city in the beginning of the Jewish Revolt as part of their attacks against Roman cities (66 ce; Josephus, J.W. 2.460). The Roman emperor Septimius Severus formed a Roman colony and changed the name of the city to Septimia-Sebaste in 200 ce. Remains from the different phases of the Roman city were discovered in the archaeological excavations; they include colonnaded streets, a forum, a basilica, a temple dedicated to Kore and the dioscuri, a theatre, a stadium, aqueducts, and graves (Crowfoot, Kenyon, and Sukenik 1942). During the Roman period the city-minted coins baring types testifying to the pagan characteristic of the city (Meshorer and Qedar 1999).

Bibliography J. W. Crowfoot, K. M. Kenyon, and E. L. Sukenik, The Buildings at Samaria (Samaria-Sebaste 1) (London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1942). Y. Meshorer and S. Qedar, Samarian Coinage (Jerusalem: Israel Numismatic Society, 1999). EITAN KLEIN

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herod the Great; Romanization; Samaritanism. 701

Samaritans

Samaritans There is one verse in the Hebrew Bible featuring the phrase “the people of Samaria” (‎‫השמרנים‬, hšmrnym; 2 Kings 17:29), and it is often taken to refer to the Samaritans (KJV; ESV). Second Maccabees 5:23 and 6:1–2 mention the profanation of the Gerizim temple by Antiochus IV Epiphanes. The oldest Samaritan remains are from the city on the summit of Mount Gerizim, which preserves 395 inscriptions from the first half of the 2nd century bce, and t wo cont empor aneous inscriptions from the island Delos in the Aegean Sea, created by the “Israelites who send their temple tax to holy Argarizein (Mount Gerizim).” The Samaritan Pentateuch was created after the turn of the eras when a text form attested in Qumran (4Q17, 4Q22, 4Q27, 4Q158, 4Q175, 4Q364, 4Q365–7) received the addition of the Samaritan tenth commandment (build an altar on Mount Gerizim) (cf. Tov 2012: 80–99). The Samaritans are mentioned in the New Testament stories of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37), the Grateful Samaritan (Luke 17:11–19), the Samaritan woman (John 4), and the mission in Samaria (Acts 8:4–25). Josephus presents several stories about them. Different Stories about the Origin of the Samaritans.  The Samaritans’ own story of their origin is found in their chronicles: the Tolidah, the Kitab al-Tarikh, and the Arabic Book of Joshua, all coming from the late medieval age, and some texts from the early 20th century, the New Chronicle and Chronicle II. A typical description is found in Kitab al-Tarikh. According to this story, the Samaritans represent the original Israel; the Jews descend from the priest Eli and his followers (cf. 1 Sam 1–3), who split off at the time of the Judges. “At this time the children of Israel became three factions: A (loyal) faction on Mount Gerizim; a heretical faction that followed false gods; and the faction that followed Eli son of Yafnī in Shilo.” A different story is found in Josephus, who claims that the Assyrian king Shalmanasser exterminated the Israelite leaders and relocated all its inhabitants to Media and Persia, while resettling in Samaria non-Israelites from Kuthah (perhaps in Persia) (Ant. 9.278–279). This story builds upon 2 Kings 17 and implies that the Samaritans descend from settlers brought by the Assyrians to the region of Samaria in the 8th century bce. In addition, Josephus presents a story pertaining to the 5th or 4th century bce (Ant. 11.306–312), depending on the dating of the persons mentioned, namely Jaddus, Sanballat, and Darius. Here he expounds on Nehemiah 13:28 and recounts that the Samaritans received priests expelled from Jerusalem. Manasses, brother of the high priest Jaddus, was given the choice between his Samaritan wife and the priesthood in Jerusalem. Manasses went to his father-in-law, Sanballat, and told him that he was not willing to be deprived of his priestly office. Sanballat promised not only to preserve the priesthood for him but also to make him high priest, if he would keep his daughter as his wife. He also told him that he “would build a temple on Mount Gerizim similar to that at Jerusalem, for him.” Manasses chose to stay with his wife and became high priest in the new temple on Mount Gerizim, and many Jerusalemites followed him. The origin story of the Samaritans preserved in their chronicles is usually not trusted by scholars, who have more confidence in accounts found in Josephus and other literature. The supposition is either that the Samaritans’ origin is to be found when they rejected the Jerusalem Temple and regarded their own temple on Mount Gerizim as the only legitimate sanctuary (Kartveit 2009; cf. Josephus’ second story, Ant. 11.306–312) or that the destruction of the temple 702

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on Gerizim by John Hyrcanus in 111 bce was the decisive event that led to the split (Pummer 2009; cf. J.W. 1.62–62; Ant. 13.254–256). Coggins (1975) instead prefers to speak of a process of estrangement. The time for the construction of this “alternate” temple is not easily determined: archaeology of the site indicates that it had existed for some time before 200 bce, perhaps from the time of Alexander the Great, perhaps from the time of Sanballat and Nehemiah (Josephus, Ant. 11.306–312; Magen, Misgav, and Tsfania 2004).

History of the Samaritans.  The fact that the Samaritans use an existing, expansionist version of the Pentateuch as their holy text indicates that they possess a link to one or more of the Jewish groups in the Second Temple period. A series of texts from the 2nd to 1st centuries bce mention the “Shechemites,” “Joseph,” and the Samaritans in unfavorable or hostile terms, testifying to the strained relations they experienced and created with other Jewish groups (Kartveit 2009). Josephus says that Samaritans lived in Egypt in the 3rd and 2nd centuries bce in such numbers that quarrels arose with the Jews over the proper place of worship, Jerusalem or Gerizim (Ant. 12.7–10; 13.74–79). The Delos inscriptions testify to the presence of Samaritans on an island with a Jewish synagogue. Around the turn of the eras they lived in most of Palestine, and it is estimated that they numbered 90,000 to 200,000 in the 2nd and 3rd centuries ce. There was enmity between Jerusalem and the Samaritans in the last centuries bce, culminating in the destruction of the temple by John Hyrcanus in 111 bce. In antiquity they were a considerable element in the countries where they lived, to the extent that they clashed with the Romans, who in the 1st century ce responded by building Neapolis (= Nablus) near Gerizim, and a Roman temple on the mountain. In the 3rd century ce there was a revival under Baba Rabbah (“the great gate,” obviously a pseudonym). From this period came Samaritan liturgical and theological texts.

Bibliography R. J. Coggins, Samaritans and Jews: The Origins of Samaritanism Reconsidered, Growing Points in Theology (Oxford: Blackwell, 1975). M. Kartveit, The Origin of the Samaritans, VTS 128 (Leiden: Brill, 2009). Y. Magen, H. Misgav, L. Tsfania, eds., The Aramaic, Hebrew and Samaritan Inscriptions, vol. 1 of Mount Gerizim Excavations, Judea and Samaria Publications 2 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2004). R. Pummer, The Samaritans in Flavius Josephus, TSAJ 129 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). MAGNAR KARTVEIT

Related entries: Arabic; Josephus, Writings of; Kings, Books of; Samaria-Sebaste; Samaritanism; Synagogues.

Samaritanism Samaritanism is a sister religion of Judaism. Both religions evolved from Israelite religion, and both have their basis in the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. The chief differences between them concern the canon of the sacred scriptures and the central place of worship. While the Jewish Bible includes the Prophets and the Writings in addition to the 703

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Pentateuch, for the Samaritans the Pentateuch alone constitutes their sacred writings; and while for the Jews the central place of worship is Jerusalem, for the Samaritans it is Mount Gerizim in the vicinity of Nablus in Palestine. The Dead Sea Scroll findings have shown that the Samaritan version of the Pentateuch, the basic document of Samaritanism, originally was one among the versions of the text current in Palestine around the turn of the era. There are a number of differences between the Samaritan and what became the Masoretic Pentateuch, but only some are significant. The most important is the Samaritan emphasis on Mount Gerizim as the cult place commanded by God through an addition to the Decalogue in both occurrences, i.e. after Exodus 20:17 (MT) and Deuteronomy 5:18 (MT). In the past, many thought the Samaritans to be either a mixture of Israelites and foreign settlers brought into Samaria by the Assyrians in the 8th century bce or altogether foreign settlers who converted to the worship of YHWH. This image was particularly reinforced by Flavius Josephus who, in addition, claims that renegade Jerusalem priests founded the cult on Mount Gerizim. Gradually it was realized that these accounts of Samaritan origins are based on a certain skewed understanding of the Bible, especially of 2 Kings 17:24–41, and on tendentious accounts by Josephus. Instead, the majority of the inhabitants of Samaria were YHWH worshipers as much and for as long a time as were the inhabitants of Judea. Although the Yahwistic Samarians in all probability built a temple on Mount Gerizim in the 5th century bce, they did not for this reason consider themselves a separate religious entity from the YHWH worshipers in Judea. What must have caused a serious rift between the two communities was the destruction of the Gerizim sanctuary by the Jewish leader and high priest John Hyrcanus I in 111/110 bce. It is now generally assumed by scholars that it was from this time on that Samaritans and Jews went their separate ways—which, however, does not mean that the two religions had no further contacts. Nevertheless, each went on to develop its own specific traditions, customs, literature, and offices. Contrary to Judaism, Samaritanism did not develop the office of the rabbi but continued the biblical tradition of active priests and high priests. Nor did it create a body of writings corresponding to Mishnah and Talmud. Like Judaism, it did produce an Aramaic translation of the Pentateuch, the Samaritan Targum, and in its exegesis made use of the genre of the Midrash as did the Jews. Another biblical element preserved by the Samaritans but not by the Jews is the slaughter, roasting, and eating of lambs carried out every year on Mount Gerizim to celebrate Passover as ordained in Exodus 12. Archaeological excavations have shown that the Samaritans, like the Jews, built synagogues at least since late Roman times. They strictly observe the biblical commandment of circumcision of boys on the eighth day after birth, the religious purity regulations, and the prohibition of depicting living beings in a religious context, as the floor mosaics in synagogues from the Byzantine period show. Excavations have also brought to light the Samaritan ritual baths (miqvaʾot) that parallel the same institution in Judaism.

Bibliography A. D. Crown and R. Pummer, A Bibliography of the Samaritans: Third Edition: Revised, Expanded, and Annotated, ATLA Bibliography, 51 (Lanham Toronto; Oxford: Scarecrow, 2005). A. D. Crown, R. Pummer, and A. Tal, eds. A Companion to Samaritan Studies (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993). R. Pummer, The Samaritans: A Profile (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016).

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R. Pummer, “Samaria/Samaritans,” Oxford Bibliographies in “Biblical Studies”. (Second Revised and Expanded Edition; Ed. C. R. Matt New York: Oxford University Press, 27 September 2017), http://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/. REINHARD PUMMER

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Canon and the Canonical Process; Conversion and Proselytism; Deuteronomy, Book of; Exodus, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Samaritan Pentateuch; Worship.

Sanballat Sanballat was a governor of the province of Samaria during the Persian period. His name is spelled ‫ סנבלט‬in the Hebrew Bible and ‫( סנאבלט‬snʾblṭ) in epigraphic sources (= Sīn-uballiṭ “Sin has given life” attested in the Neo-Assyrian onomastics). In the Book of Nehemiah, Sanballat the Horonite (‫סנבלט החרני‬, snblṭ hḥrny), associated with Ammonite official Tobiah and Geshem the Arab, figures as a leader of Samaria who was hostile to Nehemiah (Neh 2:10, 19; 3:33; 4:1; 6:1, 2, 5, 12, 14). His daughter was married to the son of Joiada, son of Eliashib, the high priest of the Jerusalem Temple (Neh 13:28). Sanballat, governor of Samaria (‫סנאבלט פחת שמרין‬, snʾblṭ pḥt šmryn), is mentioned along with his two sons, Delayah and Shelemyah, in an Aramaic letter sent from Elephantine to Bagavahya, governor of Judah, on 25 November 407 bce, concerning the reconstruction of the temple of YHW at Elephantine (TADAE A4.7:29). He appears to have been replaced by his son Delayah soon after 407 bce, because the authorization to reconstruct the Elephantine temple was given by Bagavahya and Delayah in a letter (TADAE A.4.9) written between ca. 407 and 400 bce. The name of Sanballat/Sīn-uballiṭ is attested as patronymic (‫וע בר סנאבלט‬, wʿ br snʾblṭ [ua son of Sīn-uballiṭ]) in the Aramaic deed WDSP 11r,13 from Wadi Daliyeh, which seems to have been written toward the end of the reign of Artaxerxes II or in the beginning of the reign of Artaxerxes III. The name of Sanballat/Sīn-uballiṭ may be also reconstructed as patronymic in the inscription on the seal of “]yahu, governor of Samaria,” originally attached to a document from Wadi Daliyeh WDSP 16 that may be dated to the first third of the 4th century bce. Sanballat (Σαναβαλλέτης, Sanaballetēs) is also attested by Flavius Josephus in Jewish Antiquities (11.302–303, 309–312, 315, 321–325, 342, 345 and 13.256). According to Josephus, this Sanballat was an official sent to Samaria by Darius III and was active also under Alexander the Great. Josephus characterizes him as a Cuthean who married his daughter Nikaso to Manassēs (Μανασσῆς, Manassēs), brother of Iaddūs (Ἰαδδοῦς, Iaddous), the high priest in Jerusalem. As a consequence, Manassēs was forbidden to approach the altar of the Jerusalem Temple, and Sanballat promised to build a temple for him on Mount Gerizim in Samaria. According to Josephus’ report, he accomplished this very quickly during Alexander’s siege of Tyre and, with Alexander’s authorization, made Manassēs high priest there. It is not certain whether the Sīn-uballiṭ whose name appears as patronymic in the list of witnesses in WDSP 11r,13 was the governor of Samaria attested in the book of Nehemiah, in the Elephantine letter, or by Flavius Josephus (Dušek 2007: 263). The Sīn-uballiṭ whose name can be reconstructed on the Hebrew seal of the governor of Samaria attached to the Wadi Daliyeh document WDSP 16 likely was indeed the governor of Samaria; the seal possibly belonged to his

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Sanhedrin

son Delayah, who succeeded Sīn-uballiṭ in the office of governor of Samaria at the end of the 5th century or in the beginning of the 4th century bce (Dušek 2007: 330). There is a debate about the number of Sanballats, governors of Samaria, in the 5th and 4th centuries bce. The existence of one, two, or three governors of Samaria bearing this name has been proposed (Rowley 1963; Cross 1998a; 1998b). Nevertheless, the epigraphic documents and the book of Nehemiah appear to attest to only one and the same Sanballat, governor of Samaria in the second half of the 5th century bce (Dušek 2010). Josephus apparently made a chronological error when situating the story of Sanballat in the 4th century bce, the last years of the Persian period, rather than the 5th century (Rowley 1963).

Bibliography F. M. Cross, “A Reconstruction of the Judaean Restoration,” From Epic to Canon (1998a), 151–72. F. M. Cross, “Samaria and Jerusalem in the Era of the Restoration,” From Epic to Canon (1998b), 173–202. J. Dušek, “Archaeology and Texts in the Persian Period: Focus on Sanballat,” in Congress Volume Helsinki 2010, ed. M. Nissinen, VTSup 148 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 117–32. H. H. Rowley, “Sanballat and the Samaritan Temple,” Men of God. Studies in Old Testament History and Prophecy (London: T. Nelson and Sons, 1963), 246–76. JAN DUŠEK

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Letter Writing; Seals and Seal Impressions.

Sanhedrin After the return of Jews from the Babylonian exile, several local Jewish councils of elders were established. These councils held varying levels of religious, political, and judicial authority. The Sanhedrin in Jerusalem was a council with supreme authority to make religious and legal decisions binding on Jews throughout Judea, Galilee, and the diaspora. Its power during most of the Second Temple period was exercised with permission from whatever foreign power had control over Judea, from the Persians to the Romans. In the Septuagint, these terms included γερουσία (gerousia), which refers to the elders of Israel (Exod 3:18; Deut 5:23), and βουλή (boulē), the council meeting of the elders (Ezra 10:8). The terms γερουσία, βουλή, and συνέδριον (sunedrion), a council or senate, are used for these councils, primarily the council in Jerusalem, by Josephus, Philo of Alexandria, the four New Testament Gospels, and the Acts of the Apostles. At some points in Luke-Acts συνέδριον is likely the place the Sanhedrin met (Luke 22:66; Acts 6:12), while at other times, συνέδριον clearly refers to the council itself (Acts 22:30). Luke-Acts presents the Sanhedrin as consisting of the high priest, the scribes, and the elders, πρεσβυτέριον (presbuterion) (Luke 22:66; Acts 22:5), which testifies to the Sanhedrin being a group of Jerusalem aristocrats (Mason 1993). Beginning around 200 ce, rabbinic literature also speaks of a judicial and religious ruling body in Jerusalem, which is called ‫דין בית‬, byt dyn (“house of judgment”) and ‫סנהדרין‬, snhdryn (a loanword from Greek συνέδριον) in the Mishnah (m. Sanh.) and Talmud (b. Sanh.). The origin of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin is unknown, but it likely began based on the calling together of the elders and judges of the Jews by Ezra (Ezra 10:14; Neh 8:13) and Nehemiah (Neh 12:31–42) and consisted of priests and other Jewish aristocrats. Nehemiah 2:16 and 5:7 indicate

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that an aristocratic group of priests governed the people. Literary evidence suggests that there was a Sanhedrin in Jerusalem that exercised some level of political, judicial, and religious authority during much of the Second Temple period. The Sanhedrin in Jerusalem was led by the high priest according to Josephus and Acts. According to the account of Diodorus Siculus, Hecataeus of Abdera stated that Moses appointed leaders in Israel as priests and set them as judges over disputes and guardians of the Law and customs (Bib. hist. 40.3.4–5). Evans suggests that “behind this artificial and collapsed summary of the history of Israel may be a fairly accurate description of the existence and function of the Jewish Council in the approximate time of Alexander the Great” (Evans 2010: 1193). One key difference between the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem and councils elsewhere is that the Jerusalem Sanhedrin seems to have had the exclusive right to try capital crimes. For example, Josephus criticizes Herod because the latter put a Jew to death without trial by the Sanhedrin (Josephus, Ant. 14.167). Herod the Great reduced the power of the Sanhedrin but under the Roman proconsuls, it grew in power. At the same time, the Roman provincial government determined the level and type of authority that the Sanhedrin had. Josephus seems to refer to the same council by other terms, e.g. “council of elders” and “elders and rulers of the elders” (cf. J.W. 2.146; Ant. 11.1–5). Josephus uses συνέδριον for multiple groups, some being permanent and others a temporary gathering (e.g. Ant. 16.360). It is clear, however, that Josephus understands the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem to have judicial authority over Jews and even over non-Jews, such as Herod the Great before he was declared king by Caesar. The Sanhedrin appears to be gathered as needed by the high priest to make judicial decisions (Ant. 20.198–203). One of the challenges integrating what Josephus says about this ruling council with what the New Testament authors say is Josephus’ use of other terms for it, but Josephus, the Gospels, and Acts all agree that there was a ruling body in Jerusalem with authority to judge capital crimes and, whether legal or not in Roman eyes, to execute those understood to be worthy of death. Josephus speaks of the Sanhedrin as a group and as a meeting place near the Temple in Jerusalem. Philo also refers to a council of elders that manages affairs for the Jews that was established by Augustus (Flacc. 74) as do several passages in other Second Temple writings (e.g. Jdt 4:8; 2 Macc 11:27). Apart from Matthew 10:17 and Mark 13:9, which refer to the disciples being brought before local councils (συνέδρια, sunedria), the New Testament Gospels and Acts always speak of the Sanhedrin. This refers to a court that is headed by the high priest, which held a trial for Jesus (Matt 26:57–27:1; Mark 14:53–15:1; Luke 22:54–23:1; Mantel 1961: 268–73). In John 11:47–53, the Sanhedrin discusses how to deal with Jesus, but John’s Gospel does not say that Jesus was tried by the Sanhedrin. Like the Synoptics he states that Jesus was taken to the high priest and elders, but John also indicates that there were two separate hearings, once before Annas and once before Caiaphas (John 18:12–28). In Acts, there are four trials of the disciples (Acts 4:5–22; 5:21–40; 6:12–7:60; 22:30–23:10). In all the various references to these trials before “the Sanhedrin,” the New Testament authors are careful to distinguish between the chief priests, Sadducees, and high priest, on the one hand, and the Sanhedrin, on the other. While the Pharisees in Acts 5 and 23 are positively portrayed, the Sanhedrin is regularly presented as reaching a verdict and being responsible as a group for the unjust punishment and/or execution of Jesus and his followers (Mason 1993). The primary rabbinic sources regarding the Sanhedrin are tractate Sanhedrin in the Mishnah and later the Talmud (Mantel 1961). This tractate describes multiple tribunals: those with three 707

Sardis

judges, 23 judges/elders in several cities, and the “Great Sanhedrin” of 71 elders in Jerusalem. The main focus is on what types of cases need to be heard by which court. As a rabbinic text, this tractate gives the opinions of rabbis rather than laying out rules per se. It is widely held that the picture of the Sanhedrin in the Mishnah and Talmud, written at least two centuries after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce, are an idealized construction of the rabbis and does not represent the Second Temple period Sanhedrin well. The detailed information provided therefore in works such as that of Schürer, which draw heavily upon rabbinic sources, almost certainly offers an incorrect portrait of the Sanhedrin (Schürer 1973–1987: 199–226). At the same time, the rabbinic literature does provide testimony to the existence of a ruling judicial and religious council or court in the late Second Temple period, in agreement with Second Temple Greek sources. The differences between tractate Sanhedrin and other rabbinic materials in Hebrew and Aramaic, and Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Acts, and Josephus in Greek, make it challenging to know when one source is describing the same entity that another is describing. The portraits of the ruling body/bodies of the Jews in Jerusalem do not easily complement each other. It is probably best to rely primarily upon the Greek sources, Josephus, Philo, and the New Testament texts. Contra scholars such as Goodman (1987), who deny that the Sanhedrin ever existed, it makes sense that Jews would have had a supreme religious, political, and judicial council or συνέδριον, which was probably overseen by the high priest. This also makes the best sense of the literary evidence. It may be impossible to know the precise details of the Sanhedrin.

Bibliography C. Evans, “Sanhedrin,” EDEJ (2010), 1193–194. M. Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judaea: The Origins of the Jewish Revolt Against Rome A.D. 66–70 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987). H. Mantel, Studies in the History of the Sanhedrin (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1961). S. Mason, “Chief Priests, Sadducees, Pharisees, and Sanhedrin in Acts,” in The Book of Acts in Its Palestinian Setting, ed. R. Bauckham (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 115–77. KENNETH D. LITWAK

Related entries: Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Judgment; Procurators; Righteousness and Justice; Roman Emperors; Roman Governors; Sages; Scribes and Scribalism; Talmud, Babylonian; Talmud, Jerusalem; Wealth and Poverty.

Sardis The first incontestable evidence for a Jewish presence in the Lydian city of Sardis, one of the most important places in western Asia Minor throughout antiquity, dates from the middle of the 1st century bce (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). A document of the year 50 or 49 bce, cited by Josephus, shows that at that time Sardis had enough Jewish inhabitants to constitute an officially recognized association (σύνοδος, synodos) with its own premises for cultic and social purposes. That body also had the authority to adjudicate internal disputes relating to the Jews’ ancestral laws (Ant. 14.235).

708

Sardis

The time when the Jewish community of Sardis was established is disputed. Although a few scholars infer from the reference at Obadiah 20 to Sepharad that the initial influx of Jews into the then-capital of Lydia was in the aftermath of the Babylonian destruction of the First Jerusalem Temple in 587 bce, many do not accept the identification of Obadiah’s Sepharad with the Lydian Sardis/Sepharad or its corollary—namely a 6th-century date for the establishment of the Sardian Jewish community. Instead, these scholars prefer a date in the last decade of the 3rd century bce. It was then that the Seleucid king, Antiochus III, in response to revolts against his authority in western Asia Minor, ordered the transportation of several thousand Mesopotamian Jews to the area. He further required that they be settled in the “fortresses and most important places” of that region (Ant. 12.147–153). Since Sardis was not only a major fortress-town but also the Seleucid capital of Asia Minor, it seems inconceivable that it did not receive Jewish colonists at that time, notwithstanding the silence of the sources on this point. There is little detailed information about the Jewish community of Sardis in the Second Temple period. The only Jewish structure found so far in the ancient city, the magnificent synagogue complex unearthed in 1962, dates from long after the Second Temple period—namely from the 4th to the 6th centuries ce. Similarly late in date is the rich body of Jewish inscriptions from the city, now available in Ameling’s edition (IJO II). However, some general information about the Jewish community of Sardis during the late Second Temple period is recoverable thanks to three documents cited by Josephus. They are dated, respectively, to 50/49, ca. 47, and 12 bce (Ant. 14.235, 259–262; 16.171). From the most substantial of these texts, a decree issued by the council and people of Sardis (Ant. 14.259–262), one gathers that the local Jewish community had become such an effective lobbying group that it had persuaded the city authorities in charge of the market, the ἀγορανόμοι (agoranomoi), to provide a steady supply of foodstuffs appropriate for Jewish consumption. Such a concession about kosher products, attested nowhere else in the diaspora in either Hellenistic or Roman times, might well encourage the belief that at Sardis the relationship between the Jewish community and the local Greek authorities was more harmonious than was the case in many of the other cities of late-1st-century Asia Minor. That supposition, however, should be resisted. The other two documents cited by Josephus show that in Sardis, as elsewhere in the Roman East at the time, Jews might be subjected to intermittent harassment on account of their determination to observe their ancestral laws. The Roman officials Lucius Antonius (Ant. 14.235) and Gaius Norbanus (Ant. 16.171) would not have had to write to the civic authorities of Sardis insisting that they respect the rights of the local Jews had those rights not been infringed.

Bibliography S. Fine, ed., Sacred Realm: The Emergence of the Synagogue in the Ancient World (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press and Yeshiva University Museum, 1996). G. M. A. Hanfmann, Sardis: From Prehistoric to Roman Times (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983). MARGARET WILLIAMS

Related entries: Agriculture; Associations; Josephus, Writings of; Obadiah, Book of; Persecution, Religious.

709

Satan and Related Figures

Satan and Related Figures In Early Judaism, a figure often called Satan forms a stock character in the religious drama of God and the salvation of humankind. Satan appears as a mythological, supernatural personification of enmity toward the righteous and as the great opponent of God. The concept of Satan has its roots in the Hebrew Bible, where the Hebrew noun śātān (‫שׂטן‬, “adversary, opponent”) refers either to human or to celestial beings. In Numbers 22:22–35, the heavenly being referred to as Satan is YHWH’s messenger and acts as an “opponent” of Balaam in preventing the prophet from cursing Israel. A few more texts create the mythological idea of a heavenly opponent of God who is a member of the heavenly council. In Job 1:6–12; 2:1–10 and Zechariah 3, the Satan acts as an accuser against the righteous Job or the Jerusalem high priest Joshua, respectively. In 1 Chronicles 21:1 Satan provokes King David to order an (obviously sinful) census of Israel. Thus a concept of Satan emerges in which the being functions as a tempter of the righteous on earth and as their accuser in the divine council. Yet as a member of the heavenly council, he is unambiguously subordinate to God. There is a scholarly debate about the question of whether the molded idea of Satan is a late or early development (Schmidt 2015; Zappia 2015). In Early Jewish writings the evil figure undergoes increasing literary use. Its terminology is broadened significantly: While the Septuagint’s translation of the Hebrew śātān, διάβολος (diabolos, “adversary, antagonist, opponent”), is rather common (e.g. in Apoc. Mos., a rewriting of the story of the Fall of Man), the Greek transliteration σατᾶν/σατανᾶς (satan/satanas) is rarely used. Other names (and ideas) used are Mastemah (“hostility”; primarily in Jub.), the more common Belial (‫בליעל‬, “wickedness”; Dead Sea Scrolls) or the alternate form Beliar (T. 12 Patr.), and, in the Christian Gospels, Beelzebul. Satan seldom appears in 1 Enoch (53:3; 54:6; 65:6) and is not even mentioned in 4 Ezra and 2 Baruch; thus, he is not necessarily a stock figure in eschatological discourses in Early Judaism. Generally, the devil’s task is to tempt and to ruin humankind by leading people to fulfill unlawful and wicked deeds. He is part of a demonological worldview, being depicted as the leader of a host of evil spirits, the demons. In some texts he acts in an eschatological (1QM; 1QHa) or “ethical” dualism (T. Levi 19:1; T. Ash. 1:3–9; and throughout T. 12 Patr.). Theologically, the figure of Satan serves to remove evil from God. This process is meant to structure the cosmos, and God is discharged from effecting evil. The first instances where the serpent of Genesis 3:1–7 is interpreted as the devil or his instrument are Wisdom of Solomon 2:24 and Apocalypse of Moses 15:1–30:1. Protection against the devil is found in obeying the Mosaic law and keeping God’s commandments, i.e. staying in the covenant and practicing a Jewish way of life focused on the Jewish identity markers (Jub. 15:32–34; T. Dan 5:1; 6:1–8; Apoc. Mos. 23:3; 24:3; 28:4; 30:1); in the community of the Scrolls, it is crucial to belong to the Yaḥad and to observe the priestly oriented identity markers (CD vi 11–vii 9; xvi 1–8; 1QM xiv 8–10). By contrast, the eschaton is characterized by the annihilation of the devil and his evil forces, which bears the hope that Israel (or the righteous) will be rescued and vindicated. When the influence of the devil is broken, it will be a period of blessing, welfare, and an undisturbed relationship with God (Jub. 19:28; 23:29; 50:5; 1QM i 1–16; 4Q504 1–2 iv 8–13; As. Mos. 10:1; T. Levi 18:10–12; T. Dan 5:10–11; T. Jud. 25:3; Apoc. Mos. 39:2–3; Rev 20:10).

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Satan and Related Figures

In this way, the devil also fulfills a sociopolitical function. He frequently appears as the heavenly counterpart of powerful earthly opponents of a certain Jewish group, providing a clear concept of a supernatural enemy behind the present temptations threatening the group’s identity. Such temptations included the attraction of Hellenistic culture (Jub. 15:32–34; Jos. Asen. 12:9–10; perhaps Apoc. Mos.; cf. Schreiber 443: 447–8), the Roman emperor and his cultural achievements (Sib. Or. 3.63–67), or a wicked priest and an opposing priestly group at the Temple in Jerusalem (1QS i 16–ii 9; iii 20–25; 1QM xiii 10–12; cf. the “sons of Belial” in 4Q174 1 i 8; et al.). A similar threat for some Galilean villages seemed to be the Jesus movement, as the Beelzebul controversy in Mark 3:22–27 par. reveals. Conversely, in Matthew 13:36–43 the devil functions as a paradigm of the opposing Jewish majority refusing to accept Christ (cf. John 8:44). The earliest Christian writings took over the concept of the devil prevailing in the larger Jewish environment. Specific to them is the conviction that in the heavenly realm the eschatological extermination of the devil has already begun (Luke 10:18; John 12:31; Rev 12:7–10). As a result, Jesus as the empowered representative of God’s kingdom is able to cast out demons (Luke 11:20). Nonetheless, the devil remains active by tempting and leading the righteous to sin (1 Cor 7:5; 2 Cor 2:11; 11:3; 1 Tim 3:6–7; Rev 12:12; 20:3; et al.). Jesus, as a paradigm, had proved able to overcome temptation by Satan (Matt 4:1–11 par.; 1 John 3:8–10). It is the disciples’ faith, i.e. their loyalty to Christ, which protects them from the temptations and persecutions of the devil (Luke 22:31–32; Acts 26:18; Eph 6:16; 1 Pet 5:8–9; Rev 12:11).

Bibliography D. Dimant, “Between Qumran Sectarian and Qumran Nonsectarian Texts: The Case of Belial and Mastema,” Collected Studies, 135–51. J. Dochhorn, S. Rudnig-Zelt, and B. Wold, ed., Das Böse, der Teufel und Dämonen—Evil, the Devil, and Demons, WUNT II/412 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016). C.A. Evans, “Inaugurating the Kingdom of God and Defeating the Kingdom of Satan,” BBR 15 (2005): 49–75. I. Fröhlich and E. Koskenniemi, ed., Evil and the Devil, LNTS 481 (London: T&T Clark, 2013). H.A. Kelly, Satan. A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). A.-S. Schmidt, “Die biblische Satansvorstellung—eine Entwicklungsgeschichte. Altes Testament und zwischentestamentliche Texte,” BN 166 (2015): 109–41. S. Schreiber, “The Great Opponent. The Devil in Early Jewish and Formative Christian Literature,” in Angels. The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception, ed. F.V. Reiterer, T. Nicklas, and K. Schöpflin, DCLY 2007 (Berlin: de Gruyer, 2007), 437–57. A. Steudel, “God and Belial,” The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after their Discovery (2000), 332–40. F. Theobald, Teufel, Tod und Trauer. Der Satan im Johannesevangelium und seine Vorgeschichte, NTOA 109 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015). D. Zappia, “Demythologizing the Satan Tradition of Historical-Criticism. A Reevaluation of the Old Testament Portrait of ‫ שׂטן‬in Light of the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha,” SJOT 29 (2015): 117–34. STEFAN SCHREIBER

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Demons and Exorcism; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Eschatology; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Fallen Angels; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Job, Book of; Kingdom of God; Serpent.

711

Scribes and Scribalism

Scribes and Scribalism Scribes in the Ancient Near East were practitioners of the literate skill of writing and occupied a wide variety of social positions. In general, they received more literate education than did the general populace, but the skill level of an individual scribe varied depending on the extent of his training and his role. Some scribes possessed very limited skills. A famous example is the late2nd-century ce Egyptian village scribe Petaus (P.Petaus 121//P.Köln inv. 328), who could write just enough to copy letters mechanically but did not possess enough literacy to read what he was writing (Youtie 1971). Other scribes were slaves who wrote shorthand while their owner dictated to them. Still others were accomplished copyists of Homer or dwelled closer to the top of the social pyramid in political advisory or cultic roles. Scribes in Second Temple Judaism mirrored the broader Ancient Near East in this regard; they occupied a variety of social roles with differing levels of prestige associated with them (Schams 1998). Josephus speaks of village scribes whom the Jewish aristocracy mocked as poorly educated (J.W. 1.479). The Bar Kokhba documents, dating from about 50 years after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, give evidence of scribes responsible for the mundane work of copying Jewish contracts and deeds (Lewis, Yadin, Greenfield 1989; Wise 2015). Other Second Temple scribes were military officials (1 Macc 5:42; Philo, Agr. 148). Many Second Temple scribes, therefore, used their proficiency in writing in manners unrelated to Jewish Scripture. The Second Temple scribes who used their writing skills to copy and cultivate the sacred texts, however, were perceived differently from these others scribes. Sirach 38 and 39 extol the Torah scribe (38:24) in contrast to manual laborers: “How different is the one who devotes himself to the study of the law of the Most High!” (Sir 39:1, NRSV). No text in Second Temple Judaism was more important than Torah, and no literate ability was rarer than advanced writings skills, which would have been necessary to produce copies of the holy text. Scribes were not just writers and copyists, however, but also sometimes public readers, as is the case in the portrayal of Ezra the priest-scribe in Nehemiah 8. Scribes’ literary abilities enabled them to function as text-brokers of Torah to the rest of Jewish society (Snyder 2000), which was largely illiterate, and thus as interpretive authorities who were highly esteemed. The scribes of the Gospels are precisely this type of Torah scribe, in contrast to, e.g., the scribe in Ephesus in Acts 19:35 who is a city official. Scribes were not, as a rule, a unified and distinct interpretive “school” or “philosophy” within Second Temple Judaism along the lines of the Sadducees or Pharisees, though they could be affiliated with or members of such groups. They were more akin to a guild, in the sense that they held a particular trade in common. The Gospels portray scribes as sometimes unaffiliated interpretive authorities, sometimes in the company of other interpretive authorities (such as the Sadducees, Pharisees, and priests), and sometimes as belonging to or within a distinct group of interpretive authorities (such as the “scribes of the Pharisees” in Mark 2:16). An exception to the general rule may be the Qumran community associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls, which represents a group of scribes who belonged to a distinctive interpretive school. Literary descriptions of the technical aspects of scribalism are lacking in the literary texts of the period, but much can be learned from the Dead Sea Scrolls and the textual community that collected, preserved, used, and sometimes authored them (see esp. Tov 2004). As one example, the scrolls, which are written mostly in Hebrew and Aramaic but also in Greek,

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Scripts and Scribal Practices

Latin, and Nabatean, indicate a literate multilingualism. That is, beyond the ability to use multiple languages to a limited degree in conversation, these scribes were able to read and write in these languages as well. Multilingualism is also an important part of the portrayal of Ezra and the priests who read Hebrew manuscripts to the Aramaic-speaking returned exiles (Neh 8). The Dead Sea Scrolls also reveal the degree to which scribes were artisans skilled in preparing leather and papyrus as writing surfaces, as well as in preparing reed pens and ink. Scribes were also responsible for measuring and lining the writing surfaces in order to produce an aesthetic script. Many of the marginal notes and corrections to the manuscripts also implicitly reveal the scribes’ roles as curators of the tradition, early textual critics trying to indicate correct and incorrect readings found in the manuscript tradition. Scribal conventions, such as specific signs used to indicate corrections or the practice of representing the divine name with four dots (tetrapuncta), give further expression to distinct practices found within scribal culture. The learning of these and other scribal skills would have comprised scribal literate education, though, again, very little is known about how this training was carried out in this period. Collectively, these characteristics indicate a distinctive scribal culture within Second Temple Judaism, one that was highly textual and reflective of the significance attributed to Torah and other valued texts.

Bibliography C. Schams, Jewish Scribes in the Second Temple Period, JSOTSS 291 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998). H. G. Snyder, Teachers and Texts in the Ancient World: Philosophers, Jews and Christians. Religion in the First Christian Centuries (New York: Routledge, 2000). H. C. Youtie, “Βραδέως γράφων: Between Literacy and Illiteracy,” in Scriptiunculae II (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1971), 629–51. CHRIS KEITH

Related entries: Bar Kokhba Letters; Contracts from the Judean Desert; Education; Inscriptions; Josephus, Writings of; Literacy and Reading; Paleography, Greek; Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic; Papyri; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Wealth and Poverty; Writing.

Scripts and Scribal Practices Evidence from the Second Temple period bears witness to widespread and varied activities that reflect a robust scribal culture among Jews, especially from the 2nd century bce. In addition to epigraphic and numismatic evidence, the manuscript discoveries in the Judean Desert since the late 1940s have significantly contributed to knowledge of scribal practices and the scripts in use during the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman periods (Cross 1961, 1998; Yardeni 2000, 2002; Tov 2004). Most Hebrew and Aramaic texts were written in a script now known as the square script, which emerged from the Aramaic script. In addition, Greek literary and perhaps a few documentary manuscripts were found in Caves 4 and 7 near Qumran, as well as at other Judean Desert sites. Ostraca and papyri from Masada belonging to the Roman army were written in the Latin script.

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Scripts and Scribal Practices

A few manuscripts from Judean Desert sites such as the Babatha Archive in the Naḥal Ḥever Cave of Letters were written in Nabatean. Fifteen manuscripts of the Dead Sea Scrolls were written in the older Hebrew script (paleoHebrew or old-Hebrew); these are mainly copies of the books of Moses (Genesis to Deuteronomy) and Job. Paleo-Hebrew was also used on Yehud coins from the Persian period, on Hasmonean coins from the 2nd and 1st century bce, and on so-called revolt coins from the First Jewish Revolt and the Bar Kokhba revolt in the 1st and 2nd centuries ce. Paleo-Hebrew may have continued to be used by certain groups following the Neo-Babylonian period or, alternatively, the script was brought back into use in the Hasmonean period in the 2nd century bce. Completely unexpected was the discovery of several previously unknown script systems among the Dead Sea Scrolls. They have been conveniently named the “cryptic” scripts. Only Cryptic A has been deciphered, and from the Cryptic B and C scripts only a few fragments have been preserved. A unique manuscript from Qumran, 4Q186, combines several scripts: square, paleo-Hebrew, Greek, and Cryptic A. Moreover, it is written in reverse order: from left to right. The combination of several scripts also appears on ostraca from Masada (Popović 2007: 227–30). Another fascinating phenomenon revealed in the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls is the various alternate representations of the divine name. In some scrolls the four letters of the Hebrew name for God (the letters YHWH) (Figure 4.132) are not written in the square script—perhaps out of respect or to prevent the name from accidentally being spoken when reading the text aloud— but in the paleo-Hebrew script, as in the Psalms Scroll (11Q5) and the Pesher Psalmsa (4Q171). The manuscript 4QTestimonia (4Q175) illustrates another way to represent the Tetragrammaton, by using four dots. Then there is the late-1st-century bce Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Naḥal Ḥever which is entirely in Greek but writes the Tetragrammaton in paleo-Hebrew. Scholars normally understand “the use of palaeo-Hebrew characters for the divine name … to be exclusive

Figure 4.132  11Q5 (Psa) iv.1–7 containing Psalms 124:7–125:5 (ca. 1st cent. ce). Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

714

Scripts and Scribal Practices

and characteristic for texts written according to the ‘Qumran scribal practice’ within the corpus” (Tigchelaar 2010: 199–200), often seen as a typical sectarian or Qumran phenomenon. However, the 28 fully or partially preserved occurrences of the Tetragrammaton in paleo-Hebrew in the Greek Minor Prophet Scrolls from Naḥal Ḥever suggest that this practice of writing the divine name in paleo-Hebrew may not have been restricted to Qumran-specific manuscripts. As modern conventions evince differences between printed text, handwritten letters, or scribbled notes, so also there are differences between the various handwritings found in the Judean Desert. For precious manuscripts with important texts, people used a meticulous script, also known as the formal script. The letters are mostly separate, some have been decorated, and they are all about the same size. For letters and contracts a much easier script was used, the cursive script, in which the letters were connected to each other, giving them another form and making them more difficult to read. Many of the texts from Qumran have been written in a form conveniently called semiformal or semicursive, a script which also has characteristics of the informal cursive script. Even now there are great differences between the writing styles of different generations. The ways letters are formed and written are experiencing constant development, and the progression can be used as an indicator for dating manuscripts. Texts which bear their own internal date, like a date on a letter or a legal document, can be used to date other texts which were written in the same style of script, but do not possess such an internal date. Scholars have used these dated manuscripts to develop a dating system for the Dead Sea Scrolls, which consist mostly of literary texts without internal dates. Because texts in the common square script are available in sufficient numbers, scholars have observed a development that may allow for dating by specific style characteristics (cf. Cross 1998; Yardeni 2002). For the common square script several periods are recognized, such as the Archaic (about 250–150 bce), Hasmonean (about 150–40 bce), Herodian (about 40 bce until 70 ce), and post-Herodian (after 70 ce). As to the material used for manuscripts, most of the Dead Sea Scrolls were written on the skins of goats, sheep, or members of the deer family, with some written on calfskin. The skins were scraped clean, stretched, and dried, then tanned like leather, resulting in a product with mixed characteristics somewhere between parchment and leather. The hides were then cut into rectangular sheets, which were sewn together to construct scrolls. Sometimes a sharp object was used to impress horizontal and vertical lines to demarcate the columns and the lines from which the scribe “hung” the letters. About 10% of the manuscripts from Qumran were written on papyrus (Tov: 30–49). The other find sites from the Judean Desert have a greater percentage written on papyrus, as most of those texts are of a documentary nature. The Copper Scroll from Qumran Cave 3 is unique as it is the only text written on copper. The copper, of a very high purity (99%), has been beaten to a thickness of less than a millimeter, and the scroll as such must have been of great value. The letters seem to have been beaten into the sheets, several times per letter, resulting in the letters showing through on the other side of the copper in relief. The pens used to write the Dead Sea Scrolls have not survived and so remain obscure. They were probably calamus “reed” pens, which were used throughout the ancient Mediterranean world. The Dead Sea Scrolls were written mostly with black ink. Apparently, two kinds of black ink were used in antiquity: ink based on coal (soot or “lampblack”) and iron gall ink based on ferrous sulfate (green vitriol) containing sulfuric acid. It is not clear which kind of black ink was used to write the Dead Sea Scrolls. However, it is clear that different kinds of ink were applied, 715

Seals and Seal Impressions

as indicated by the state of the manuscripts. In many cases the ink is in good condition, but in some cases the ink has corroded and eaten into the manuscript. In a few cases, red ink was also used (e.g. 4Q27 = 4QNumb). The red ink was probably made with cinnabar (mercuric sulfide; cf. Yir-El and Broshi). This material may have come to Judea via Rome from Spain. It was an expensive material and the few manuscripts from Qumran in which red ink was used show that this ink was of a high quality.

Bibliography F. M. Cross, “Palaeography and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years (1998), 1.379–402. Y. Nir-El and M. Broshi, “The Red Ink of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Archaeometry 38 (1996): 97–102. E. J. C. Tigchelaar, “Assessing Emanuel Tov’s “Qumran Scribal Practice’,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Transmission of Traditions and Production of Texts, ed. S. Metso, H. Najman, and E. Schuller (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 173–205. MLADEN POPOVIĆ

Related entries: Education; Inscriptions; Literacy and Reading; Paleography, Greek; Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic; Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls; Papyri; Revolt, Second Jewish; Scribes and Scribalism; Text Types, Hebrew; Writing.

Seals and Seal Impressions From very ancient times through the Second Temple period, seals were made to put an imprint on what people either fashioned for themselves or owned. Seals also served as religious and cultic items, objects of ritual and artistic importance, and often reflected high social status. Skilled artisans crafted them from precious stones, ivory, and even ordinary clay; some were engraved with name of the owner or with symbols such as sun-disks, scarabs, and rosettes, and they took the form of cylinders, rings, or buttons (see Keel 1995–2010). Seals were used for private, Jerusalem Temple, and state administration, in commerce, and for the sealing of legal documents, contracts, and agreements. Containers of goods were also secured with clay bullae that were tightened on the threads or the locks of the boxes, the containers, or the bags, and they were used for sealing the covers of various pottery vessels. In the Hebrew Bible sealing usually relates to royal documents (see, e.g., 1 Kgs 21:8; Jer 32:10, 14, 44; Esth 8:2, 8, 10), thus symbolizing government authority. In the Fertile Crescent, stamps or incision markings are found on jar handles or on the upper part of jar bodies from prehistoric times through the 2nd and 1st millennia bce. During their production, jars could be marked by sealing stamp impressions while the clay was still soft or in the “hard as leather” stage. Only a few stamp impressions made with the same or similar seals survive, indicating short-term action and the lack of long-term organized administrative systems. The wider distribution of impressions was always minimal, and for the most part a given system was discontinued within a relatively short period of time. In the land of Israel itself the phenomenon of marking jars with stamp impressions or incisions was already known during the Early Bronze Age and became widespread by the Middle Bronze Age. Single impressions on jars, which express the cultural, religious, and ritual influence of the surrounding cultures, are known from the Late Bronze and early Iron Age. This system of 716

Seals and Seal Impressions

marking jar handles was also well known in the kingdoms of Israel and Judah; as in the Levant, no evidence is preserved for more than a few jar handles impressed with the same seal, with hardly any continuity in the use of a system over a long period of time. Technically, there were no new developments in late 8th century bce Judah, as jars were marked and stamped much as they had been before. However, in no other place and in no other period of the ancient world did the stamping of jars develop into such an organized system, one that would be maintained for over 600 years and that produced such large numbers of stamped jar handles (more than 4,000 extant). Similarly, one place could see the manufacture of a wide variety of seals and jars; the site of Ramat Raḥel just south of Jerusalem is one such example. The innovation of this system within the borders of Judah at the end of the 8th century bce lies in the scope, diversity, continuity, and consecutiveness of the administration of the jars during a period when Judah was a vassal kingdom and a province under the rule of mighty empires that governed the Ancient Near East. This fact is of major significance for understanding the history of the kingdom of Judah under the rule of the Assyrian, Egyptian, and Babylonian Empires, and later, for the history of the province of Judah under the rule of Persia and the Ptolemaic and Seleucid dynasties. From the 8th until the 2nd century bce the site of Ramat Raḥel served as the main collection center for stamped jars; the system there was undoubtedly designed to collect agricultural products such as olive oil and wine, for the sake of paying annual taxes to the ruling empires. Probably the first system to have been used extensively in Judah (last quarter of the 8th cent. bce) was the lmlk (‫ )למלך‬stamp impression. From this time through the Second Temple period these impressions were inscribed in Paleo-Hebrew letters. These impressions contained three elements (Figure 4.133): a symbol (a scarab with four wings or a winged sun-disk), the identification of possession (lmlk [‫—]למלך‬i.e. “belonging to the king”), and a place name (one of four names: Hebron, Ziph, Socho, and mmšt [‫]ממשת‬, probably Mamshit). A slightly different system of concentric circle incisions supplanted the lmlk (‫ )למלך‬impressions in the middle of

Figure 4.133  Jar handle from Ramat Raḥel with place name “Hebron” (late 8th cent. bce).

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Sectarianism

the 7th century bce (Lipschits, Sergi, and Koch 2010). These “rosette” stamp impressions were produced during the last phase of the existence of the kingdom of Judah (Koch and Lipschits 2013). The stamp impressions from the end of the First Temple period continued to exist after the destruction of Jerusalem, when Judah became a Babylonian province. During the 6th century bce, diverse types of lion stamps were impressed on the handles and sometimes even on the bodies of the same type of jars that earlier received rosette stamps. An additional system of stamp impressions with a place name—mwṣh (‫( )מוצה‬in one or two rows, with four or three letters)—on jar handles is known from the period of Babylonian rule in Judah. The use of impressions on jars continued at the beginning of the Persian period. The main change at this stage was that the seals no longer included iconography. During the following 250 years, jars featuring stamp impressions written mostly in Aramaic, with the province name of yhwd (‫)יהוד‬ (“Yehud,” with four letters), yhd (‫( )יהד‬misspelled), or even yh (‫)יה‬, prevailed in Judah. The yhwd (‫ )יהוד‬system existed until the Hasmonean period, at which time the use of this stamp impression ceased and the main collection center in Ramat Raḥel was destroyed (Lipschits and Vanderhooft 2011). The yršlm (‫( )ירשלם‬for “Jerusalem”) stamp impression series brought the period of the Judean jars to an end, toward the end of the Hasmonean kingdom. Here, iconography was used once again—a pentagram around yršlm (‫ )ירשלם‬is engraved at the center of the seal (Bocher and Lipschits 2013). During the Hellenistic period another system of stamp impressions became widespread throughout the Levant, but served a different function. Amphora handles in Rhodes were stamped in order to mark the origin and date of the wine that would be shipped throughout the eastern Mediterranean. This use continued in the Greek and Roman world, while in the land of Israel the use of stamp impressions continued for centuries, but again with no evidence for more than a few handles impressed with the same seal and with little continuity of use over a long period of time.

Bibliography I. Koch and O. Lipschits, “The Rosette Stamped Jar Handle System and the Kingdom of Judah at the End of the First Temple Period,” ZDPV 129 (2013): 55–76. O. Lipschits, O. Sergi, and I. Koch, “Royal Judahite Jar Handles: Reconsidering the Chronology of the lmlk Stamp Impressions,” Tel Aviv 37 (2010): 3–32. ODED LIPSCHITS

Related entries: Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hebrew; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Names and Naming; Ptolemies; Seleucids; Stone Vessels; Wealth and Poverty.

Sectarianism Introduction.  “Sectarianism” denotes behavior and discourse typical of “sectarians,” i.e. members of a “sect.” The latter term, in turn, refers to a partisan, formally voluntary association that forms for collective promotion of members’ interests, which are usually religious, political, scholastic, or a combination thereof. Sectarian interests develop in deliberate response to corollary phenomena within a society’s more established institutions. “Sectarianism” is thus usually expressed in intense, exclusive loyalty to the group, its ideology, and its agenda, which includes strategies for interacting with persons, institutions, and customs on the outside. More 718

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theoretically, the term can also designate conditions that lead to the formation of sects, even when they are not present in a society. Scholars have long applied “sect”-related vocabulary to Judean voluntary associations that flourished from the Hasmonean era to the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce. A minimal list of such associations includes the Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, Covenanters of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the Egyptian Therapeutae. To these further groups are frequently added the following: Hasidim, various Christian ekklēsia, and anti-Roman revolutionaries (e.g. “Fourth Philosophy,” Zealots, Sicarii, and followers of various charismatic “prophetic” figures). In some instances, scholars include so-called “minor sects” for which there is less reliable evidence, such as those which sources refer to as Ḥavuroth, Bana’im, Hypsistarians, Hemerobaptists, and Maghāriya (Mansoor 2007). Frequently, studies that treat such groups as “sects” contain introductory remarks that explain their use of the term as an appropriation of one or more sociological models of sectarianism introduced in the early 20th century by Max Weber (1904/5) and Ernst Troeltsch (1911), developed variously by their successors and critics, especially Peter Berger (1954), Stark and Bainbridge (1987), and Wilson (1970, 1992). Scholars who use the terminology of sectarianism without explicitly engaging sociological precedents commonly assume its academic origin and analytical neutrality. Despite challenges to the term’s applicability to ancient Judean society, it has not lost its appeal. However, it remains to be seen whether modern social-scientific models of sectarianism contribute to or hinder a better understanding of Judean associations in the Second Temple period. Advantages.  The appeal of sectarian models stems from several factors. First, “sectarianism” functions as an efficient yet broad category that can embrace complex yet comparable evidence from many different perspectives and sources. Second, some sociological models of sectarianism seem to match features of some Judean sources well. For example, Weber (1978: 241–46) proposed “charismatic authority” and opposition to institutional authority as criteria for a sect. Several Judean groups meet both. Covenanters of the Dead Sea Scrolls ascribed profound virtues, wisdom, and authority to the Teacher of Righteousness, who appears prominently in pesher accounts of their conflicts with Judean authorities. Early followers of Jesus regarded him as similarly virtuous, with some of them perceived as advocating or participating in forms of resistance to Roman and Judean authority (John 19:12, 15; Acts 17:7; Rev 12–13, 17–18). Among Pharisees in the Hasmonean period, Eleazar stands out for his willingness to challenge John Hyrcanus’ legitimacy to rule (Josephus, Ant. 13.293). Similarly, around the turn of the Common Era, Judas the Galilean denied the legitimacy of Roman authority; Josephus credits him with founding the Fourth Philosophy, a Pharisaic anti-Roman resistance movement (Ant. 18.9, 23). Many more examples of matching features could be culled from other sociological models and ancient Judean associations (Horsley 2007; Gillihan 2011; Jokiranta 2013; Chalcraft 2014). Third, models of sectarianism have been applied fruitfully to the origins of rabbinic Judaism (e.g. Hayes 2011), suffused as they are with references to unresolved, ongoing disputes between scholars, and between scholastic associations that bore their names, sustained their reputations, and perpetuated their rivalries. Similarly, analysis of the early Christian movement as “sectarian” has helped improve understanding of its Judean origins and identity, relationships between ekklēsiai and other Judean groups and institutions, and the profound, rapid diversification of 719

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religious practice and theology that followed the spread of ekklēsiai to culturally diverse, often gentile-majority cities across the Mediterranean world (e.g. Regev 2011; Oehler 2018). Fourth, “sectarianism” and related terms quickly and clearly communicate that a diverse assortment of social groups, whose different organizational structures and diverse purposes seem unrelated, are actually commensurable variants of a specific type of social group. Though the extent of sociological commonality will vary from study to study, studies that classify diverse associations as “sectarian” establishes a comprehensive starting point that, if necessary, can be nuanced. Fifth, appropriate use of the term “sectarianism” presupposes that there will be discussion of specific topics without predetermining the content, method, or conclusions. This advantage obtains for studies that both presume and challenge the validity of applying the “sectarianism” as a label for Judean associations. Finally, the conceptual efficiency with which modern “sectarianism” establishes commensurability between diverse groups seems almost perfectly analogous to Josephus’ appropriation of ancient terms for philosophical schools (esp. hairesis [αἵρεσις] and philosopheitai [φιλοσοφεῖται]) for Judean groups. Thus “sectarianism” could be regarded as appropriate for ancient Judean associations because it correlates with ancient terminology. Some venture further, suggesting that “sect”-related terminology is compatible with “emic” analysis, which avoids anachronism and other sources of error by, e.g., describing ancient phenomena with terms and concepts borrowed from ancient testimonies of associations’ members and observers (cf. Jokiranta 2013). Disadvantages.  Problems nonetheless persist if the language of “sectarianism” is applied (Gillihan 2011: 65). First, sociologists disagree vigorously regarding criteria to be applied to “sect” and the nature of “sectarianism.” The terminology remains embattled and should only be borrowed with caution, if clarity is to be achieved. Second, there is often a disconnect between the work of sociologists and Second Temple scholars; whereas the former can speak of sectinstitution cycles, the latter are more prone to relate “sect” to a status of static marginality, which in turn creates an impression of exclusion from power. This neither matches the work of Weber and others nor does it match the ancient evidence. Third, there is the inevitable holdover from a long-standing pejorative usage that goes at least back to the 16th century (Baker 1999: 70–71). Therefore, “sect” is laden with potential for miscommunication. The Need for Emic Categories.  Modern classification and analysis of Judean associations as variants of a single type of social group is consistent with their classification in ancient texts (Gillihan 2011: 21–22). Josephus classifies Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and the Fourth Philosophy as hairesis (αἵρεσις) and philosophētai (φιλοσοφεῖται) (J.W. 2.118–119; Ant. 13.171; 18.9–11; Life 10) and describes each group’s most important features and social roles through comparison with those of the other Judean and non-Judean haireseis (e.g. Life 8; Ant. 15.371). Similarly, Philo’s comparative evaluations of Judean and non-Judean associations presume that Essenes and Therapeutae belong to the same type of social group as the Greek and Roman philosophical schools (e.g. Prob. 75–91; Contempl. 1–11; 25–33; Apol. 5 in Eusebius., Praep. ev. 8.6). Philo and Josephus’ classification of Judean groups as philosophical schools appears to elaborate a much earlier tradition in the Aristotelian school that identified Judeans collectively as a race (genos) of philosophers (Theophrastus in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 7.6.1 and Porphyry, Abst. 2.26; Satlow 2008). 720

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Ideally, efforts to retain ancient vocabulary and discourse about Judean groups would promote fluency and improve the fidelity to the phenomena they describe. Opportunities for scholars of Second Temple Judean society to become fluent and to write in emic idiom are more limited than for historians of other periods, due to the fragmentary, fractional nature of extant evidence. However, the associations of late Second Temple Judean society mentioned above may be an exception: not only does one have a lot of evidence from both members of the groups and from outside observers, within that evidence classificatory terms are used that perform several of the same identifying functions as “sectarianism” vocabulary. Thus, “sects” might be replaced by haireseis and such, without compromising analytical precision and succumbing to pejorative bias. The banishment of “sect” from descriptions of Second Temple Judean groups, in turn, opens up the possibility for new questions and insights.

Bibliography R. S. Ascrough, Paul’s Macedonian Associations: The Social Context of Philippians and 1 Thessalonians, WUNT 2.161 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003). D. W. Baker, Divulging Utopia: Radical Humanism in Sixteenth-Century England (Amherst: University of Massachusetts, 1999). P. L. Berger, “The Sociological Study of Sectarianism,” Social Research: An International Quarterly 21 (1954): 467–86. D. J. Chalcraft, “Sectarianism in Early Judaism: Sociological Advances? Some Critical Sociological Reflections,” in Sectarianism in Early Judaism: Sociological Advances, ed. D. Chalcraft (Abingdon: Routledge 2014), 2–25. Y. M. Gillihan, Civic Ideology, Organization, and Law in the Rule Scrolls: A Comparative Study of the Covenanters’ Sect and Contemporary Voluntary Associations in Political Context, STDJ 97 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). C. Hayes, “Legal Realism and the Fashioning of Sectarianism in Jewish Antiquity,” in Sects and Sectarianism in Jewish History, ed. S. Stern, IJSSJ 12 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 119–148. M. Mansoor, “Sects, Minor,” in M. Berenbaum and F. Skolnik, Encyclopaedia Judaica, 2nd ed. (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007), 18:232–33. M. Oehler, Geschichte des frühen Christentums, UTB 4737 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2018). E. Regev, Sectarianism in Qumran: A Cross-Cultural Perspective, RSS 45 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). E. Regev, “Were the Early Christians Sectarians?,” JBL 130 (2011): 771–93. R. Stark and W.S. Bainbridge, A Theory of Religion (New York: Peter Lange, 1987). M. L. Satlow, “Theophrastus’s Jewish Philosophers,” JJS 59 (2008): 1–20. E. Troeltsch, Die Bedeutung des Protestantismus für die Entstehung der modernen Welt (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1911). M. Weber, “Die protestantische Ethik und der Geist des Kapitalismus,” Archiv für Sozialwissenschaften und Sozialpolitik 20–21 (1904–1905): 1–54 and 1–110. M. Weber, Economy and Society, eds. G. Roth and C. Wittich (Berkeley: University of California, 1968). B. R. Wilson, Religious Sects: A Sociological Study (London: Weidelfeld & Nicolson, 1970). B. R. Wilson, The Social Dimensions of Sectarianism, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon 1992). YONDER MOYNIHAN GILLIHAN

Related entries: Acculturation and Assimilation; Apocalypticism; Associations; Josephus, Writings of; Philo of Alexandria; Resistance Movements.

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Seleucids The Seleucids were a dynasty of kings founded by Seleucus (Σελεύκος Seleukos) I Nicator in 312/311 bce. Seleucus was a general in Alexander the Great’s army, which invaded the Persian Achaemenid Empire in 334 bce. After Alexander’s death (324 bce) and the wars of the Diadochi (Alexander’s successors), Seleucus acquired the widest area of Alexander’s realm. His kingdom encompassed northern Syria, which on the south bordered approximately along the latitude of Damascus, as well as the Land of Israel (including Judea). To the south of this line the region belonged to the Ptolemaic Empire from 301 to 202–198 bce and was named Syria and Phoenicia (Φοινίκη, Phoinikē; see See Map 4: Seleucids and Ptolemies [301–200 bce]; Map 5: Seleucids and Ptolemies [200–167 bce]). The annexation of this area to the Ptolemaic Empire was contested by Seleucus I Nicator, and it was a pretext for six “Syrian wars” throughout the 3rd and the first third of the 2nd century bce. At the time of the Fourth (219–217 bce) and Fifth (202–198 bce) Syrian wars, tensions began to develop in Judean society, especially between pro-Seleucid and pro-Ptolemaic parties. During the Fifth Syrian war Antiochus III finally conquered Ptolemaic Syria and Phoenicia and incorporated it into the Seleucid province of Coele-Syria, which was ruled by a stratēgos (στρατηγός, governor) who also had jurisdiction over Judea. Judea itself was not placed under a Seleucid overseer; instead, the high priest administered Judea, functioning not only as the head of the Jerusalem Temple but also representing the Judeans to the imperial government and overseeing tax collection as well. Most of the Judeans supported and fought on the Seleucid side during the Fifth Syrian war. They were remunerated by Antiochus III (ruled 222–187 bce) by a partial remission of taxes and by the liberation of war-captives who had been sold into slavery (Josephus, Ant. 12.139, 144). Antiochus also helped them restore the city of Jerusalem, which had been damaged by the war, made a financial contribution to support the Jerusalem Temple’s ritual. Of foremost importance, Antiochus also confirmed that the Judeans could practice their traditional laws unhindered (“and all the members of the nation shall have a form of government in accordance with the laws of their country [Πάτριοι νόμοι, Patrioi nomoi],” Ant. 12.142). These favors, especially those granted to the Temple’s personnel, did not herald the kind of inimical attitude and threat toward Judaism that would follow during the turbulent reign of Antiochus IV “Epiphanes” (175–164 bce). Seleucus IV (187–175 bce), the successor of Antiochus III, issued an order to reform the administration of the temples in Coele-Syria. This edict has come to light through an inscription containing a prostagma (πρόσταγμα, decree) recovered from excavations in 2005 at Maresha in southern Judea (cf. Jones 2009). It sheds some light on a conflict between Simon, of the priestly order of Bilga, and Onias III, the high priest of the Oniad family. This confrontation, which led to an attempt by Simon to confiscate treasures stored at the Jerusalem Temple, is recounted in 2 Maccabees 3:4–40. Heliodorus, the highest official in the kingdom under Seleucus IV, is the recipient of the letter/decree found at Maresha and is a central actor in 2 Maccabees 3 as well. It was probably the reform relating to the temples in Coele-Syria that stimulated the conflict between Onias III and Simon (who might have been a Seleucid official in charge of the Temple finances) and that, during the reign of Antiochus IV, prompted the religious persecution that culminated in the Maccabean revolt and the eventual establishment of the sovereign Hasmonean state. Simon, the brother of Judas Maccabeus, founded the Hasmonean dynasty, which ruled Judea until 63 bce,

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when Jerusalem was conquered by Pompey. During this period there was only one brief interruption to Hasmonean rule, when Antiochus VII Sidetes forced John Hyrcanus to recognize his rule, though the Seleucid died in battle against the Parthians soon thereafter (129 bce). Between 129 and 64 bce the Seleucid Empire disintegrated, though several military confrontations with Judea took place during these years. First, Alexander Jannaeus fought against Demetrius III (king in 95–88 bce), probably near the end of the latter’s reign (c. 88 bce). In the first battle Jannaeus was defeated, but later Demetrius retreated and Jannaeus overcame his adversaries (Ant. 13.377–386). In 87 bce Antiochus XII Dionysius invaded the coastal part of the Hasmonean realm. Crossing this area by force, he attacked the Nabateans but fell in battle (Ant. 13.387–391). Thereafter the Seleucid state became even less important, such that Tigranes, king of Armenia (83–69 bce), annexed Syria, which until then constituted most of what remained of the once-large Seleucid Empire. This reduction of area covered by the Seleucid kingdom was strengthened by Tigranes’ strong ties to Shelomzion (Salome Alexandria), Jannaeus’ widow and queen of Judea from 76 to 67 bce (Ant. 13.407–432). The much-weakened Seleucid kingdom came to an end in 64 bce as it was demoted to a Roman province, while Judea, a year later, became a Roman vassal state (Appian, Hist. rom. 11).

Bibliography E. Bickerman, Institutions des Séleucides (Paris: Geuthner, 1938). J. D. Grainger, A Seleukid Prosopography and Gazeteer (Leiden: Brill, 1997). C. P. Jones, “The Inscription from Tel Maresha for Olympiodoros,” ZPE 171 (2009): 100–4. R. Strootman, “Seleucids,” in The Encyclopedia of Ancient History, ed. R. S. Bagnall, K. Brodersen, C. B. Champion, A. Erstkine, S. R. Huebner, 13 vols. (London: Blackwell, 2013), 6119–25. URIEL RAPPAPORT

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Hellenism and Hellenization; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Maccabees, Second Book of; Nabatea; Persecution, Religious; Ptolemies; Resistance Movements; Revolt, Maccabean; Tribute and Taxes.

Seneca Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c. 4 bce–65 ce), a major Stoic philosopher, was Nero’s “prime minister” from 54. After 62, when Nero repudiated Octavia to marry the Judaizing Poppaea Sabina, Seneca’s relationship with him deteriorated. Most of Seneca’s sources are Stoic, though he refused to use allegoresis, which in Stoicism had acquired philosophical status (Ramelli 2011). He wrote treatises on topics such as providence and beneficence, in addition to a number of epistles. In De clementia he theorized about an enlightened monarchy that would reflect the Stoic ideal of cosmic order (Ramelli 2006). In his tragedies he denounced passions and tyranny. Seneca’s criticism of traditional religion (including the imperial cult in his work Apolocyntosis) and his insistence on entertaining worthy conceptions of the divinity later resulted in a favorable reception among Christians. A Latin correspondence with Paul is preserved in Seneca’s manuscripts; in its more original form (i.e. without two letters added later), the communications do not intimate a conversion to Christianity on the part of Seneca, and may stem from the 2nd century ce (Ramelli 2014). The correspondence ascribes to Paul a difficult relationship with the Judaizing Poppaea, for whom Seneca likewise had no sympathy. 723

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Seneca was instead a supporter of Octavia, whose repudiation is denounced in the homonymous tragedy transmitted in his corpus. Seneca was critical of Judaism. In De Superstitione, quoted several centuries later by Augustine (Civ. 6.10–11), he deprecated the Sabbath as encouraging idleness, and remarked: “The customs of this most accursed people have so prevailed that they have been now received in all lands: the conquered have given laws to the conquerors. At least they know the reasons for their rites; but the majority of the people know not why they perform theirs.” Seneca also criticized the lighting of Sabbath lamps, since the gods need no illumination, and humans dislike the smoke (Ep. 95.47). However, he levels similar criticisms, in the same passage and elsewhere, at “pagan” ceremonies and cultic customs, as they are also unnecessary for the divinity.

Bibliography T. Brennan, The Stoic Life: Emotions, Duties, and Fate (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). B. Inwood, Reading Seneca: Stoic Philosophy at Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). I. Ramelli, Il basileus come nomos empsyukhos (Naples: Bibliopolis, 2006). I. Ramelli, “The Philosophical Stance of Allegory in Stoicism,” IJCT 18.3 (2011): 335–71. I. Ramelli, “A Pseudepigraphon inside a Pseudepigraphon? The Seneca-Paul Correspondence and the Letters Added Afterwards,” JSP 23 (2014): 259–89. ILARIA RAMELLI

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Sepphoris Sepphoris (Gk. Σέπφωρις, Sepphōris; Heb. ‫צפורי‬, ṣpôry), the historical capital of the Galilee, lies on a hill 289 m above sea level in the heart of the Lower Galilee and ca. 5 km north of Nazareth (see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]). It s long history can be traced back to the Persian period (539–332 bce), and by the late 2nd century bce it came under Hasmonean rule. Herod the Great owned a royal palace in Sepphoris, and after his death (4 bce) his son Herod Antipas made it his capital until he founded Tiberias. Sepphoris did not participate in the Great Revolt against Rome, and after the suppression of the revolt (70 ce), the city was transformed from a provincial town into a prominent Roman polis, probably owing to its proRoman stance (Life 394, 411; Weiss 2015). Like the rest of the Galilee, Sepphoris before the Great Revolt was populated by Jews. It is possible that the city also had a gentile population, although its size cannot be determined. Sepphoris was surrounded by a wall and boasted an agora (Life 104–11). The available sources provide very little information about Sepphoris’ municipal institutions in the 1st century ce. The royal bank and public archive were restored to the city in 61 ce (Life 38–39), and several talmudic sources refer to the “old ‘archei [archives] of Sepphoris,” a municipal institution that functioned there in earlier days; no other sources furnish details regarding the nature of the municipal government and its institutions, except for the existence of a Jewish archive in the city at a rather early date (m. Qidd. 4:5). The archaeological finds uncovered at the site in recent years suggest that Sepphoris in the Second Temple period and up to the Great Revolt (70 ce) was constructed on the hill and its slope, and resembled a large Galilean village (Weiss 2007). None of the Roman-style public buildings 724

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unearthed at the site dates to the early 1st century ce; they seem to have been constructed when the city was expanded and completely remodeled as a Roman polis in the late 1st or early 2nd century ce. Other than the road leading to the town and some agricultural installations that complement the rural appearance of the immediate vicinity, only a few buildings, if any, would have been noticeable in Lower Sepphoris. Only a large building with massive walls on the western acropolis is visible, and evidence of the city’s walls has yet to be uncovered at the site. The building, dated to the 1st century ce, includes three rooms and two large ritual baths (miqva’ot) on the ground floor of the original building. The roughly dressed fieldstone walls, measuring 1.87 m thick, were built on bedrock (Meyers 1999). Remains of some domiciles dating to the Early Roman period were found in several areas on the acropolis (Figure 4.134), indicating that domestic construction in the early town covered extensive parts of the hill and its slopes; their style and terraced plan have parallels elsewhere in the Galilee. The houses, which continued to be inhabited by the local population in the first centuries ce, were simply built and lacked a single, fixed plan: they contained a courtyard and a variable number of rooms, as well as ritual baths, water cisterns, or storerooms in their basements. Ritual baths hewn into rock or built as stepped pools were at times located next to large water cisterns, and their walls were coated with a few layers of gray plaster (Weiss 2007). No remains of the palatial building on the acropolis have been recovered. Josephus writes that it stood in Sepphoris in Herod the Great’s day (J.W. 2.56; Ant. 17.271), and it is supposedly where his son Herod Antipas resided when in the city (Ant. 18.27). Fragments of frescoes adorned with floral patterns reminiscent of the third Pompeiian style, which were found in fills beneath the House of Dionysos on the eastern side of the hill, belong to a more luxurious building, perhaps a palace.

Figure 4.134  View of the Acropolis on which Sepphoris stood (1st cent. bce–1st cent. ce).

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The city’s water supply was based largely on the drainage of rainwater into rock-quarried cisterns scattered over the hill and its slopes. Most of these cisterns, of varying capacities, were used for domestic purposes. One large cistern discovered in the center of the acropolis, in front of the Crusader fortress and south of it, functioned as a public reservoir. Another public water installation, the “Arches Reservoir,” stood in the early city, east of the saddle. Having a capacity of about 180 cubic meters and roofed over with stone slabs laid across five massive arches, the reservoir supplied water to the fields and a few buildings in Lower Sepphoris. The economy in 1st-century ce Sepphoris was based primarily on agriculture, raising sheep and cattle, and a small-crafts industry. Although a small quantity of vessels was imported, most of the pottery found at the site are local wares, including those produced in Kefar Ḥananya and Shikhin. The pottery vessels and inventory of coins from 1st-century ce Sepphoris point to the city’s commercial ties with other urban centers in the Galilee and along the southern Phoenician coast. The inhabitants of Sepphoris also used stone vessels resembling those found in Jerusalem, which seem to have been produced in one of the local workshops in the Galilee, perhaps in Sepphoris or a neighboring settlement. The finds uncovered in Sepphoris are significant for assessing the lifestyle, customs, and cultural behavior of the Jewish population residing in the Galilee in the late Second Temple period.

Bibliography E. M. Meyers, “Sepphoris on the Eve of the Great Revolt (67–68 C.E.): Archaeology and Josephus,” in Galilee through the Centuries: Confluence of Cultures, ed. E. M. Meyers (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1999), 109–22. Z. Weiss, “Josephus and Archaeology on the Cities of the Galilee,” in Making History: Josephus and Historical Method, ed. Z. Rodgers, JSJSup 110 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 392–94. Z. Weiss, “Sepphoris, From Galilean Town to Roman City, 100 BCE–200 CE,” in Galilee in the Late Second Temple and Mishnaic Periods, eds. D. A. Fiensy, and J. R. Strange (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015), 53–75. ZEEV WEISS

Related entries: Agriculture; Architecture; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Miqva’ot; Nazareth; Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Revolt, First Jewish.

Serpent During the period from about 300 bce to 200 ce many symbols shaped the life and consciousness of Palestinian Jews (and diasporic Jews). Perhaps the most prevalent symbol was that of the serpent. Ophidian images came from all nearby cultures, especially Persia, Syria, Greece, Italy, and Egypt. A selected list of such images would include serpents on the chest of Athena, snakes in the head of Medusa, the Hydra with Hercules, the caduceus with Hermes (Mercury), Laocoon and his sons entwined by two massive sea snakes, Mithra’s serpent, anquipedes with giants and gods, the uraeus on the crowns of Egyptians, the entwined serpent on Asclepius’ staff along with a serpent drinking from a cup held by Hygeia, and the ouroboros depicted in various ways. Almost all of these sculptures, images, depictions, and carvings are well known or illustrated in

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books (cf. esp. Charlesworth 2010) and admired in leading museums such as the Hermitage, the British Museum, the Israel Museum, the Vatican, and the Louvre. Alongside these realia the serpent symbol is attested in an abundance of literary evidence. Over 44 types of snakes are known in the Near East. Greek has 41 names for serpents; Hebrew has 18 terms for the snake. No other animal or symbol is so multivalent; 18 negative and 28 positive denotations can be found for ophidian symbolism. The biblical narratives supply four main sources for imagination. First, and less pervasive, there are echoes of Moses’ rod which becomes a serpent and signifies a sign of God’s presence. This story in Exodus (4:3–5; 7:9, 12, 15) is reflected in Artapanus but is not included in the extant portions of Jannes and Jambres. Second, the wandering in the wilderness (the symbol for preparation) was remembered for Moses making a serpent and putting it on a staff so that all who looked up to it would be saved from the poison inflicted by snakes. This story in Numbers 21:4–9 and 2 Kings 18:4 was placarded by Philo (Leg. 2 and Agr. 94), the Wisdom of Solomon 16:5–12, and the Gospel of John 3:14. Third, most prominent in early Jewish literature are references to the account of the snake in the garden of Eden. This animal, created by God, was exceptionally clever; the Targum of Onqelos to Genesis 3:1 describes it as “wise.” The Naḥash speaks to the woman who is creatively intelligent (who is not yet Eve) and presumably is thought to have stood on its feet (as early images prove and the Midrashim and other Rabbinic texts illustrate; cf. Charlesworth 2010). The Genesis account in Hebrew is brilliantly composed and laced with paronomasia. The man and woman are linked to the Naḥash by plosive laryngeals (Gen 2:25; 3:7—’arummim “naked” and 3:1—’arum “clever”) not only as the story of the fall begins but also at its end, when the Naḥash, now a snake without feet who must crawl, is cursed to eat dust (‘afar, 3:14) which is what the human is destined to become (‘afar, 3:19). Almost always this ingenious story is misinterpreted by early Jews so that the Naḥash is thought to have been a serpent from the beginning. It comes to symbolize evil, even Satan. This eisegesis is regnant, appearing in Sirach 21:2, 25:15, Philo (QG 1.33), the Apocalypse of Moses, Paul (2 Cor 11:3), 4 Maccabees 18:8, and Justin Martyr (Dial. 103; Apol. 28). In Revelation 12:9, the serpent is simply identified with the Devil and Satan. This interpretation is linked in most early Jewish literature with the depiction of Eve as naïve and culpable; she is the one who was seduced by the serpent. Fourth, the serpent was symbolized as the wise one. Under the influence of Genesis 3:1, iconography presents the serpent as clever and swift, having blazing eyes that do not close so that all is observed. In addition, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, could be depicted as a serpent. Such symbolic meaning is found in the Apocalypse of Moses, the Targumim, in John 3:14, among the Ophites, and especially in Jesus’ exhortation to be wise as serpents (Matt 10:16). In summation, the serpent is probably the most pervasive symbol in art, sculpture, and literature among the early Jews. Ophidian images and concepts mostly carry a positive connotation. This dominant symbol is rooted in the human fascination with an animal that causes fear and can inject death, which at the same time is a cold-blooded creature that survives without the ability to blink, hear, or walk, which must scurry beneath other animals to swallow what is edible.

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The notion of the serpent as a positive symbol eventually receded, especially in western culture, giving way to increasingly dominant, negative associations.

Bibliography J. H. Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent, AYBRL (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010). JAMES H. CHARLESWORTH

Related entries: Adam and Eve; Ben Sira; Exodus, Book of; Exodus, The; Garden of Eden—Paradise; Genesis, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Midrash; Numbers, Book of; Philo of Alexandria; Revelation, Book of; Sages; Satan and Related Figures.

Seth According to Genesis 4:25–26, 5:3–8 and 1 Chronicles 1:1, Seth is the son of Adam and ancestor of Noah, making him the progenitor of the whole of post-diluvian humankind. In Genesis 4:25 his name is derived from the Hebrew root ‫( שית‬šyt) meaning “to replace,” which the Septuagint explains as σπέρμα ἕτερον (sperma heteron) “another seed.” According to 1 Chronicles 1:1 as well as later Targumic tradition, Seth is treated as the only surviving son of Adam, with Cain either not mentioned (1 Chr 1:1) or, alternatively, explicitly identified as the offspring of Samael, the angel of death (Tg. Ps.-J. on Gen 4:25–26; Klijn 1977: 1–5). A negative association with Seth may occur in 4QInstruction at 4Q417 1 i 15 (cf. 14b–18a), which refers to “the children of Seth” (cf. Num 24:17) in a context mentioning iniquities committed and “a spirit of flesh”; the implication may be that they cannot discern between good and evil (Strugnell and Harrington 1999: 163–65; but cf. Wold 2005: 138–41; Goff 2010: 90–91). There is also positive presentation of Seth in Second Temple tradition, however (cf. Klijn 1977: 5–28). Seth’s brief mention in the Greek translation of Ben Sira at 49:16 alongside Enoch, Joseph, and Adam (cf. Luke 3:38) points in this direction, as do a number of other texts such as the Book of Jubilees (4:7–28), 1 Enoch (86:2; cf. Nickelsburg 2001: 373), and the works of Philo of Alexandria, each of which regard Seth as the ancestor of a generation of righteous people. Jubilees 4:8 thus mentions by name a certain “Azura,” a sister of Seth, who became his wife. Philo discusses Seth at several instances in On the Posterity of Cain and Questions and Answers on Genesis. In Questions and Answers on Genesis 1.81 Philo explicitly assigns the right of primogeniture to Seth, and in On the Posterity of Cain 42 Seth turns out to be the originator of human virtue and the knowledge of God. While these authors do not show any further interest in Seth, subsequent tradition pictures Seth as the recipient of divine revelation as well. Josephus (Ant. 1.68–71) regards him and his descendants not only as those who discovered astronomy but also as those who preserved a tradition from Adam himself concerning the destruction of the world by fire and water. Josephus recounts that they inscribed this tradition on two steles made of brick and stone. While one of these steles has been destroyed in the deluge, Josephus assures his readers that the other still exists in the land of “Seiris,” an unknown Eastern realm sometimes identified with China (Reinink 1975). Still later tradition, preserved in the so-called Life of Adam literature, transforms Josephus’ connection of Seth to astronomical lore into a vision of the “paradise of righteousness” and the fiery appearance of God himself on the divine chariot. According to Life of Adam and Eve (chs. 25–29), this vision

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is told to Seth by Adam, who received it after he was expelled from paradise. Seth is not only the recipient of secret knowledge, however; he himself embarks upon a journey to (earthly) paradise in order to fetch some of the oil of life flowing from the “tree of mercy” (presumably the Tree of Life; cf. LAE 36:2) in order to cure Adam on his deathbed. According to this work, the steles of stone and clay are made by Seth at his mother’s instigation and contain the story of Adam and Eve. These are later deciphered by Solomon with the help of an angel, who also commands him to build his Temple at the exact spot where Adam and Eve used to worship (cf. LAE chs. 50–51).

Bibliography A. F. J. Klijn, Seth in Jewish, Christian, and Gnostic Literature, NovTSup 46 (Leiden: Brill 1977). G. J. Reinink, “Das Land ‘Seiris’ (Šir) und das Volk der Serer in jüdischen und christlichen Traditionen,” JSJ 6 (1975): 72–85. B. G. Wold, Women, Men, and Angels, WUNT 2.201 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005). ALEXANDER TOEPEL

Related entries: Angels; Garden of Eden—Paradise; Genesis, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Philo of Alexandria.

Shechem—see Gerizim, Mount (pt 4) Sexuality Sexuality comprises the desires and behaviors around biological sex and the social norms they engender. While diverse sexual norms are visible in the Jewish literature of the Second Temple period, scriptural narratives and traditions provided important framing contexts (e.g. Gen 19:30– 36; 38:8–10; 13–26; Exod 20:14; Lev 18:1–30; Deut 23:17–18; 2 Sam 11:3–5). Treatments of sexuality in these sources are consistently androcentric, presenting social norms from a masculine perspective and treating men as the normative social actors and women in complementary or challenging roles. Sexual Norms. Sexual norms in the Jewish texts of this period valued loving relationships between husbands and wives (e.g. Tob 8:7; 10:12) and frame social calamity in terms of their disruption (4Q179; 3 Macc 4:6–8; 2 Esdras 16:33–34; cf. 2 Bar. 10:13–14; 27:11–13). Pure virginity and marital fidelity are repeatedly praised (4 Macc 17:6–9; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.199; on “appropriate” matches in the Damascus Document (D), see 4Q269 9 and parallels), for men as well as women (Philo, Joseph 9.43; Jos. Asen. 21:1; T. Iss. 7:2). Non-marital sex is disparaged, whether adultery (e.g. Wis 3:16–19; Jub. 39:5–8), promiscuity (e.g. Jub. 20:3–4; Sib. Or. 2.279– 282), or sex with prostitutes (e.g. Philo, Joseph 9.24–43). General treatments of impiety often incorporate adultery and homosexuality (Sib. Or. 3.765–766; 4.33–34; Ps.-Phoc. 3; 1 Cor 6:9– 10) and/or adultery and fornication (Ascen. Isa. 2:5; 1 Cor 6:9). Ben Sira in particular expresses wide-ranging concerns about sexual transgression (Sir 9:1–9; 19:2; 23:16–27; 41:17–22). Links between idolatry and adultery continue in the literature of this period (4QMMT B 9; Wis 14:12, 26), especially in accounts of the defiling of the Jerusalem Temple (2 Macc 6:4).

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Disparagement of gentile nations as prostitutes (2 Esd 15:46–63) or in terms of sexual misbehavior (the Romans: Sib. Or. 5.386–396) are paralleled by accounts of the exile as sexually defiling for the virgins and wives of Israel (2 Esd 10:22). Rejection of intermarriage remains a common theme (11QTa lvii 16; 1 Esd 8:68–9:15; cf. Add Esth 14:15 on sex with the gentile king), countered by notable examples of conversion-and-marriage accounts (Jos. Asen., and see Ruth; cf. further Loader 2013: 88–90). Heteronormativity prevails in the literature of this period. While homosocial connections are praised (David and Jonathan in Josephus, Ant. 6.205–212, 224–241; LAB 62:1–11; Abraham and Jacob on Abraham’s deathbed in Jub. 22:25–30), same-sex attractions and behaviors are rejected and at times vilified (Sib. Or. 2.73; 3.185–187; 3.594–600; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.25, 38; Philo, Spec. 3.37–39). Sex between women is largely ignored—later rabbinic tradition will deny that such sex is even possible (b. Šabb. 65a–b; b. Yebam. 76a), whereas Paul in Romans 1:26–27 objects to both male and female same-sex acts. The sins of Sodom are often treated as sexual (3 Macc 2:5; Jub. 16:5–6), but only sometimes framed as explicitly homosexual in nature (Philo, Abr. 135; 2 En. 10:4; 34:2; T. Naph. 3:4). Sexual Discipline.  As in other ancient Mediterranean cultures, sexual discipline is a central— and often masculine—virtue (e.g. Sir 6:2–4; 4 Macc 1:28–2.6; Let. Aris. 278; Ps.-Phoc. 76; Satlow 1996). The sexual continence of scriptural figures is a common theme. Visions of Amram underscores Amram’s 41 years of celibacy (4Q544 1; 4Q543, 545–547); Jubilees emphasizes Jacob’s obedience to Abraham’s “many commands regarding lust and fornication” (Jub. 25:4–7); and Josephus has Joseph give a lengthy sermon to Potiphar’s wife, urging her to control her desires (Josephus, Ant. 2.39–55). Ben Sira, by contrast, blames Solomon for his lack of sexual self-control (Sir 47:19–20). Regarding women, Ben Sira emphasizes the value of a blameless wife (Sir 40:19), but treats women in general as lacking sexual control, stating that “a headstrong daughter” in particular must be restrained lest she “sit in front of every tent peg and open her quiver to the arrow” (Sir 26:10–12; cf. Sir. 42:9–14). According to Pseudo-Phocylides (213–216) sons, too, are susceptible to seduction. Sexual Attractiveness.  Sexual attractiveness is valued in both men and women, when accompanied by righteousness (Esth 2:7, 9, 15; Jdt 13:16; Sus 1:1–3; Sir 26:13–18; Jos. Asen. 1:4–6; 18:11; Josephus, Ant. 6.308 on Abigail; and cf. Sarah’s sexual beauty in 1QApGen 20). Women’s sexual attractiveness, however, gives them problematic power over men (1 Esd 4:13–32). Ritual Purity. Ritual purity concerns in this period include a ban on sex with menstruants (Josephus, Ant. 3.275; cf. Lev 18:19, 20:18) and requirements of purification after intercourse (which Josephus frames as necessary both physically and spiritually, Ag. Ap. 2.25; cf. Lev 15 and Loader 2013: 75–78). The Dead Sea Scrolls provide copious evidence for concerns about halakic practice (4Q251; 4Q264a; CD A ix–xii; 11QTa), including sexually related purity practices (4Q251 16; 4Q274; 11QTa xlv), which were a point of contention with other Jewish communities (CD A v 7; 4QMMT B 39–48, 75). Celibacy and Marriage. Classical treatments of the Essenes notably describe a movement of celibate Jewish men (Philo, Prob. 75–91; Josephus, J.W. 2.118–161; Ant. 18.18–22; Pliny, 730

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Nat. 5.73). Comparable evidence can be found in the sectarian Dead Sea Scrolls as, e.g., in the absence of marriage and family in the Community Rule (1QS and 4QS manuscripts) and in the bifurcation of marrying and celibate groups in the Damascus Document (CD A vii 4–9; see, however, Wassén 2005: 122–29). The scrolls, however, provide evidence for varying degrees of sexual restriction, including limits on sexual behavior within marriage (4Q267 9 vi 4; 4Q270 2 i 18–19; cf. Jub. 30:8); limits on marriage itself (CD A iv 20–v 11; 4QHalakah A [= 4Q251] 17; 1QSa i 9–11); and radical rejection of non-marital sexuality (4Q269 9.4–7 and parallels; cf. Schuller 2006: 80–104). Social controls of private marital behavior—this includes women testifying about their husbands (1QSa i 11) and evaluations of sexually questionable women by “trustworthy and knowledgeable women” (4Q271 3.12–14 pars. 4Q270 5.20–21 and 4Q269 9.6–7)—highlight anxiety about sexual transgression as a threat to communal purity. Discomfort with human embodiment, too, is often framed in sexual terms (1QHa ix 21–26; xx 24–35). Rewriting and Interpretation of Scripture. Rewritings of Scripture in this period negotiate sexual themes in a variety of ways. Readings of the garden story emphasize human disobedience (e.g. in Josephus, Ant. 1.45–51), but also begin to incorporate sexual overtones (e.g. Apoc. Ab. 23–24). Jubilees uses the garden story to argue against casual nudity (Jub. 3:31) and appears to imply that Adam and Eve have sex before entering the garden (3:6) and after leaving it (3:34), but not in the garden itself (cf. Sib. Or. 1.31–37). Jubilees’ narrative about the sin of the angels (Watchers) implicates sexual behavior in the breakdown of barriers between heaven and earth, resulting in violence, sinfulness, and the pollution of the land (Jub. 4:21–22; 5:1–2; 7:20–25; cf. 1 En. 6–9; 12; 15). Both Jubilees and Josephus tend to downplay sexual transgression or to treat problematic events as one-time cautionary tales. In Jubilees, this avails in the account of Lot and his daughters (Jub. 16:8), the rape of Dinah (30:5–6), Reuben’s sex with Bilhah (33:1–20), and the story of Judah and Tamar (41:1–28). Josephus attempts to redeem the main actors in the Levite’s concubine story (Ant. 5.136–149) and allows the Midianite women of the Balaam story to seduce Israel with their eloquence as well as their beauty (Ant. 4.126–140). By contrast, Pseudo-Philo imagines the Midianite women “naked and adorned with gold and precious stones” (LAB 18:13–14) and blames the fate of the Levite’s concubine on her own prior sexual misconduct (LAB 45:3). Sexuality may also be played up to increase dramatic tension: Susanna, an appendix to the Greek version of Daniel, emphasizes the lust of the two antagonists and the false sexual account they concoct (Sus 7–62), while Joseph and Aseneth reports Aseneth’s “joy and distress and much fear and trembling” in response to Joseph and their passionate culminating kiss, in which “both came to life in their spirit” (Jos. Asen. 19:10). The Genesis Apocryphon similarly contains the famous account of Bitenosh, the mother of Noah, who emphasizes her sexual fidelity to her husband by reminding him of her sexual pleasure “in the heat of intercourse, and the gasping of my breath in my breast” (1QapGen ar ii 9–10). Genre.  Genre shapes the treatment of sexual themes in literature of this period. Testaments repeatedly emphasize the dangers of lust and the value of sexual self-control, “because in sexual promiscuity there is a place for neither understanding nor piety, and every passion dwells in its desire” (T. Reu. 6:4; cf. Testament of Kohath [4Q542 9]; T. Levi 14:6; T. Benj. 9:1). Testaments may emphasize sexual sinfulness in accounts elsewhere treated more neutrally (e.g. T. Jud. 731

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12–13, on Judah and Tamar) and occasionally devolve into overt misogyny (T. Reu. 5.1–2, 6; cf. T. Jos. 2–10 on the ruses of Potiphar’s wife). Wisdom literature may treat sexual imagery metaphorically, as already in Proverbs 1–8 or 11Q5 xxi, while the seduction mentioned in the Wiles of the Wicked Woman (4Q184) may be interpreted as either sexual or philosophical (on which, however, see Goff 2008). Sexual imagery also shapes statements about righteousness and wickedness (Sir 20:4; 30:20; Wis 3:13–14; 4QpNah 3–4 ii 7–9), and apocalyptic or magical imagery occasionally takes on sexual resonance, as in the case of the stars with sexual organs like horses in the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 86:4; 88:3; cf. Ezek 23:20), or a winged dragon that has anal sex with women (T. Sol. 14:4). Conclusion.  Second Temple writings give expression to a variety of attitudes to sexuality as Jews came to terms with their sacred narratives and biblical instructions, and as they interacted in different ways with the changing environments in which they lived. The sociopolitical and cultural changes that came, e.g., with the conquests of Alexander the Great not only had an impact on various attempts to regulate a wide range of practices, further contributed to the development of received tradition. For all the norms that attached to it, sexuality was and continued to be a diverse and dynamically evolving phenomenon during the Second Temple period.

Bibliography M. Goff, “Hellish Females: The Strange Woman of Septuagint Proverbs and 4QWiles of the Wicked Women (1984),” JSJ 39 (2008): 20–45. W. Loader, Making Sense of Sex: Attitudes towards Sexuality in Early Jewish and Christian Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013). M. Satlow, “‘Try to Be a Man’: The Rabbinic Construction of Masculinity,” HTR 89 (1996): 19–40. E. Schuller, The Dead Sea Scrolls: What Have We Learned? (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006). MAXINE GROSSMAN

Related entries: Celibacy; Ethics; Family; Holiness; Marriage and Divorce; Purification and Purity.

Shammai The Jewish law scholar Shammai, mentioned in the earliest strata of the rabbinic literature (Mishnah, Tosefta, and halakic midrashim), lived in the Land of Israel near the end of the 1st century bce, and with his colleague Hillel is noted as comprising the last “pair” of scholars (zugot) after Shemaiah and Abtalion (m. ’Abot 1:12; cf. Feldman 1958). His name may be a derivative of the name Shemaiah found in 1 Kings 12:22 and Nehemiah 12:18. In addition, the designation hzqn (‫)הזקן‬, “the Elder,” is sometimes appended to the name. Hillel functioned as nśyʾ (‫נשיא‬, presiding officer of the legal council) and Shammai as the ʾb byt dyn (‫אב בית דין‬, head of the judicial court), succeeding Menaḥem (m. Ḥag. 2:2). No other biographical details of Shammai’s life are known. Shammai is described in later tales (haggadah) as particularly intransigent and irascible, as opposed to Hillel, who was praised for his patience and flexibility. A classic example is the tale, found in the Babylonian Talmud (b. Šabb. 31a; cf. ‘Abot R. Nat. A 16), wherein Shammai

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is reported to have chased away an impertinent potential proselyte with “the builder’s rule in his hand,” perhaps an allusion to the strict and unbending “canon” (rule) of legal exegesis. Early sources, however, provide no indication of such strictness; indeed, in the only non-legal saying attributed to Shammai he advises “to receive every man with a friendly countenance” (m. ‘Abot 1:15). The reported legal opinions of Shammai in the early strata of rabbinic literature concern Sabbath and festival regulations, purities, dues and tithes, and marriage law, and as such are typical of Pharisaic teachings. In some cases he shows a tendency to conservatism, as when he refused to feed his minor son on the Day of Atonement (t. Yoma 5:2), or when he prepared a sukkah (tabernacle) for his infant grandson in the bedchamber of his daughter-in-law (m. Sukkah 2:8). Shammai also ruled that a person who had appointed an agent to execute a murder was himself liable for the death penalty (cited in the name of the Prophet Haggai); this was not accepted by his colleagues (b. Qidd. 43a). His ruling that an offensive war may be waged on the Sabbath accords with ancient Hasmonean tradition (t. ‘Erub. 3:7; Sif. Deut. 203; cf. 1 Macc 2:40–41; Josephus, Ant. 13.12–13). Moreover, the ban of speech on the Sabbath unless it praises God or relates to Sabbath needs in the 2nd century bce Damascus Document (D) at 4Q264a 1 i 5–8 (cf. Jub. 50:8) would have been in agreement with views that came to be associated with Shammai (Noam 2002; Noam and Qimron 2009: 59–60). Thus, his opinions may be seen to conform to early rulings of the oral Torah from the beginning of the Hasmonean period that prized consistency and emphasized the significance of the action itself over that of the intentions of the actor. Scholarly opinion has also linked Shammai to uncompromising Jewish attitudes toward Rome (Ben Shalom 1993: 82–98; though see Rocca 2008: 256–57). Several disputes are recorded in rabbinic literature between Hillel and Shammai; these seem to have been responsible for the creation of the two factions or “schools” named Bêt Hillel (“House of Hillel”) and Bêt Shammai (“House of Shammai”) that differed in their relation to the application of law (m. ‘Abot 5:17; cf. b. Šabb. 17a). The activities of these schools generated hundreds of legal controversies in which Bêt Hillel are often noted for their greater leniency (Neusner 1971: 1.184–211; 3.312–14). Surprisingly, Shammai’s ruling differs at times from that of Bêt Shammai (m. Maʿaś. Š. 2:9; m. ‘Ed. 1:7). Although the rulings of Bêt Hillel were ultimately accepted as more authoritative, Shammai’s disciples, among them Rabbi Eliezer b. Hyrkanos (end of 1st cent. ce), continued to transmit his traditions. As an indication of his lasting legacy, Shammai’s rulings and those of Hillel were cited at the scholarly convocation at Yavneh as providing the basis for the renewal and formulation of the ancient legal traditions after the destruction of the Second Temple (t. ‘Ed. 1:1).

Bibliography I. Ben-Shalom, The School of Shammai and the Zealots’ Struggle against Rome (Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi 1993), 76–109 (Hebrew). L. Feldman, “The Identity of Pollio, the Pharisee, in Josephus,” JQR 49 (1958–1959): 53–62. J. Neusner, The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees Before 70, 3 vols. (Leiden: Brill 1971). V. Noam, “Beit Shammai and the Sectarian Halakhah,” Jewish Studies 41 (2002): 45–67 (Hebrew). PAUL MANDEL

Related entries: Marriage and Divorce; Midrash; Pharisees; Sages.

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Sheshbazzar According to Ezra 1:8 and 11, Sheshbazzar (enigmatically called “prince of Judah”) was commanded by the Persian king Cyrus to bring back the Jerusalem Temple vessels from Babylon to Jerusalem with the first group returning from exile. Moreover, in an Aramaic letter of Ezra 5:14 and 16, he was appointed by Cyrus as “governor” and laid the foundations of the Temple at the start of its lengthy process of restoration. These few data are somewhat elusive and have led to a variety of speculations about who Sheshbazzar was. His name is Babylonian, šaššu-aba-uṣur (“May šaššu [the sun god] protect you”), and (against some earlier suggestions) this cannot be equated with Shenazzar, known from 1 Chronicles 3:18, who was a member of the Davidic family at this time. Because of apparent parallels in title (“governor”) and duties (Temple restoration) with the work of the Davidic Zerubbabel (see esp. Ezra 3 and Hag 1:1), Josephus (Ant. 11.13– 14) and many others since have thought that the two men were one and the same. Such an identification seems unlikely, however. While it is known that Jews could have both a Jewish and a Babylonian name, there is no evidence that any Judean had two Babylonian names, as this hypothesis presupposes. Ezra 5:14–16 distinguishes the two, as Zerubbabel was present at the occasion being reported (cf. Ezra 5:2) whereas Sheshbazzar is introduced as someone unknown to the audience. It is generally agreed now that Zerubbabel’s work on the Temple was concentrated during the later reign of Darius whereas Sheshbazzar’s work apparently took place earlier, under Cyrus. Scholars differ in their assessment of the historical reliability of these sources (Grabbe 2004: 269–85). The Aramaic letter in Ezra 5 is likely based on an authentic original, indicating that already by the time of Darius (ca. 520 bce for this letter) Sheshbazzar was a figure of history (ca. 538 bce for his appointment by Cyrus). Thus his term as governor will not have coincided at all with that of Zerubbabel. Ezra 1, by contrast, may well include sound historical material, though it is clearly written in a more theological style in order to present the return from Babylon typologically as a second exodus. In the accounts of the first exodus there are lists of “princes” of the tribes who in Numbers 7:84–86 are associated with gold and silver vessels for use at the altar. Perhaps, therefore, the author of Ezra 1 sought to advance his typological comparison by linking the secular leader of the return (the governor, as at Ezra 5:14) with the tribal leader of Judah who transported the vessels for the sanctuary in the first exodus. This suggestion is not incompatible, of course, with those who have seen in the title “the prince of Judah” an alternative way of referring to the governor, but it points away from attempts to link him directly with the Davidic “prince” of Ezekiel 40–48. The sources available to the author of Ezra 1–6 were so few and sporadic that it is not surprising that no more is heard of Sheshbazzar. Speculations about his ancestry or his eventual fate should therefore be avoided.

Bibliography P.-R. Berger, “Zu den Namen ‫ ששבצר‬und ‫( שנאצר‬Esr 8:8.11 5:14.16 bzw. I Chr 3:18),” ZAW 83 (1971): 98–100. L. S. Fried, Ezra: A Commentary (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2015).

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J. M. Silverman, “Sheshbazzar, a Judean or a Babylonian? A Note on his Identity,” in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. J. Stökl and C. Waerzeggers, BZAW 478 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 308–21. H. G. M. WILLIAMSON

Related entries: Cyrus the Great; David; Ezra, Book of; Letter Writing; Names and Naming; Persian Period.

Sicarii “Sicarii” is a Latin loan word introduced to Greek literature in the writings of Josephus. In the late Roman Republic the word apparently applied to loosely organized gangs who committed murder for political or financial reasons. However, in the early Imperial period the term applied to murderers more generally (Brighton 2009: 57–59). Josephus adopts this word primarily not only in Jewish War but also in a minor way in Jewish Antiquities. The only other extant Greek author from the period to refer to this group is Luke in the book of Acts. In Jewish War Josephus initially identifies Sicarii as those who carry hidden daggers (sica Figure 4.135) used for political assassination, particularly the murder of the high priest Jonathan during the governorship of Felix (J.W. 2.254–257). This first mention anticipates how Josephus will continue to describe the Sicarii: they prey upon fellow Judeans who sympathize with Roman rule. They soon add their strength to the growing rebellion in Jerusalem but withdraw to Masada before the revolt breaks out in earnest. From there they take no further part in the Judean war against Rome, but are content merely to raid nearby settlements. They likely would not have received further notice except for their mass suicide in Masada when Flavius Silva laid siege to and captured the fortress after the fall of Jerusalem. In Jewish Antiquities Josephus explicitly mentions the origin of the name Sicarii along with their preferred method of violence and use of daggers (Ant. 20.185–186). In Acts, Paul is arrested in Jerusalem at the end of his third missionary journey; the arresting tribune asks if he is to be identified with an Egyptian who had led a band of 4,000 Sicarii into the wilderness (Acts 21:38).

Figure 4.135  Sica and Sheath found at ‘Ein Gedi (1st cent. ce).

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Scholars long suggested on the basis of these brief notices that the Sicarii were a violent offshoot of the Zealots who opposed Roman rule in Judea (Schürer 1890: I.ii.178). What made them distinctive was their use of daggers in stealthy assassinations. But a more nuanced reading of Jewish War and Jewish Antiquities reveals that Josephus also uses the term in a more general way as a rhetorical label to marginalize and condemn Judean infighting during and after the revolt (Hengel 1989; Horsley 1979; Brighton 2009). This observation suggests that “Sicarii” does not so much refer to a self-identified group of violent Judean rebels, but was perhaps a term employed by Romans, and adopted by Josephus, to describe and marginalize the perpetrators of violent civil unrest in Judea (Brighton 2009). This understanding of the label would also fit well with how Luke presents the Sicarii in Acts (Brighton 2011).

Bibliography M. Brighton, The Sicarii in Josephus’s Judean War: Rhetorical Analysis and Historical Observations (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009). M. Brighton, “The Sicarii in Acts: A New Perspective,” JETS 54 (2011): 547–58. R. Horsley, “The Sicarii: Ancient Jewish ‘Terrorist,’” JR 59 (1979): 435–58. G. D. Stiebel, “Dressed to Kill—Military Dress as an Ideological Marker in Roman Palestine,” in Dress & Ideology: Fashioning Identity from Antiquity to the Present, ed. Sh.-R. Marzel and G. D. Stiebel (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 153–67. MARK BRIGHTON

Related entries: Fortresses and Palaces; Luke-Acts; Masada, Archaeology of; Masada, History of; Resistance Movements; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Generals.

Sickness and Disease In accordance with the Hebrew Bible (Exod 15:26; Ps 103:2–3), ancient Judaism acclaimed God as source of health or sickness. Disease and illness are terms derived from different perspectives on the phenomenon of sickness; a disease is an identifiable condition affecting an organ or organism, whereas an illness refers to the subjective feeling or condition of lacking health. People with skin diseases and infectious diseases were not only disqualified to worship God in the Jerusalem Temple but were also isolated or excluded from the community (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.281; J.W. 5.227; 11QTa xlviii 23–26). A person who had been healed of a skin disease had to undergo certain procedures prescribed in the Torah in order to regain ritual purity (Lev 14:1–32; cf. Mark 1:44; Luke 17:14). Studies in medical anthropology and comparative ethnomedicine have shown that illness in the ancient Mediterranean world was socially constructed by the given culture’s practices and beliefs regarding disease (Pilch 2000). Health is therefore a matter of restoration, both for the sick person and the shared social order. Interpreting sickness and death as divine punishment for sins is a common feature in Second Temple literature. In its retelling the biblical Book of Genesis, the Genesis Apocryphon claims that Pharaoh suffers from an affliction sent by God because he tried to take Sarai as his wife (1QapGen 20.12–29), so that none of the physicians, magicians, and sages could bring about healing. Likewise, the Prayer of Nabonidus, another Dead Sea Scrolls fragment (4Q242), connects sin and sickness. The king Nabonidus is said to have suffered a terrible inflammation decreed by God because of his idol worship. In Lives of the Prophets (4:4–13), Nebuchadnezzar not only lost his mind but became like an animal. Second Maccabees claims that Heliodorus, the agent of King Seleucus IV, 736

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was struck down by God in order to prevent him from robbing the Temple in Jerusalem (3:24– 30). According to the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, a person who transgresses God’s commandments suffers an affliction of the organ (Hogan 1992: 93–105). Simeon’s right hand is paralyzed for seven days because, in his hatred, he would have used it to harm his brother Joseph (T. Sim. 2:12–13). Since hatred is thought to reside in the liver, both Simeon and Gad’s livers are beset with illness (T. Sim. 2:7; 4:1; T. Gad 5:10). The removal of sin through prayer and confession of guilt relates directly to getting rid of sickness and the spell of insanity (T. Sim. 2:13–15; T. Reu. 1:7–10; cf. Sir 38:9–11). In the works of Josephus a number of examples illustrate the punishment paradigm that diseases and epidemics are sent by God. The Book of Tobit, which is closely related to Jewish wisdom literature, tells the story of Tobit, who had lost his sight although he had walked in the ways of truth and righteousness all the days of his life (Tob 1:5–18). The book then interprets Tobit’s suffering not as punishment but as a test (12:14). A number of documents testify to the view that sickness is caused by the activity of demons. According to the Book of Jubilees, in the days of Noah unclean spirits came to invade humanity, bringing about sickness and death (Jub. 10:1–6). Pharaoh’s affliction and Saul’s melancholy were seen as the result of demonic possession (1QapGen xx 28–29; Pseudo-Philo, LAB 60:1). The Book of Tobit also links sickness and death to the activity of the demon Asmodeus who killed seven men successively on the nights of their marriage to Sarah (Tob 3:8; 6:14). The Qumran fragments of the Damascus Document (D) obviously understood the transition from skin eruption to skin disease (Lev 13:2) as being directly related to the presence of an evil spirit (4Q266; 4Q269; 4Q272; 4Q273; Baumgarten 1990: 153–65). The Dead Sea Scrolls include several exorcism incantations and formulae, mostly directed against disease-causing demons (11Q11; 4Q510; 4Q560). Second Temple miracle workers like Jesus of Nazareth and Eleazar, who used incantations allegedly composed by Solomon (Josephus, Ant. 8.45–49), were credited with a special talent for exorcizing demons that caused epilepsy, mental illness, and other diseases. The Essenes are said to have conducted research on medicinal roots and the properties of stones for treatment of diseases (J.W. 2.136; see Taylor 2012: 304–40). Philo of Alexandria regards virtue as the safest precondition for a healthy life. Illnesses therefore are due to a loss of self-control, though they can also be brought about by strokes of fate (Kaiser 2015: 12–19). Jewish writings from the Second Temple period hardly provide any kind of systematic description of diseases. It is possible, though, that Philo knew the Hippocratic corpus that was collated in Alexandria. On a couple of occasions he goes into anatomical and physiological details (Opif. 118–125; Alleg. Interp. 1.12–13). Furthermore, he provides the diagnosis of a skin disease which he identifies as leprosy in accordance with Leviticus 13:3 (Post. 47). The only case of illness Josephus describes in detail is that which caused the death of King Herod the Great (J.W. 1.656–657; Ant. 17.168–169). The symptoms of Herod’s last illness were slight fever, an itching of the whole skin, continuous pains in the intestines, suppuration in the genital area, an edema of the legs, and strained breathing. A credible explanation for these symptoms could be pyelonephritis, an infectious disease of the kidneys (Kottek 1994: 181–90).

Bibliography J. M. Baumgarten, “The 4Q Zadokite Fragments on Skin Disease,” JJS 41 (1990): 153–65. L. P. Hogan, Healing in the Second Temple Period (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1992).

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O. Kaiser, “Gesundheit und Krankheit bei Philo von Alexandrien,” Medizin, Gesellschaft und Geschichte 33 (2015): 9–34. J. P. Pilch, Healing in the New Testament: Insights from Medical and Mediterranean Anthropology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press 2000). BERND KOLLMANN

Related entries: Demons and Exorcism; Disability; Divination and Magic; Healing; Holiness; Josephus, Writings of; Medicine and Hygiene; Purification and Purity.

Simon Simon (143–35 bce) was the only surviving son of Mattathias when he became high priest and leader of his family’s resistance movement against the Seleucid domination of his homeland (Josephus, Ant. 13.213–17). He took power after the Seleucid pretender Tryphon murdered his brother, Jonathan. It is uncertain why Simon was not chosen to lead the Maccabean forces earlier, since he was older than the two previous leaders, Judas and Jonathan. Simon was likely able to succeed them as leader of the Hasmoneans because of his father’s popularity (Atkinson 2016; Regev 2013: 113–17; Sievers 1990: 36–37). He also had served as a military commander during the reigns of Judas and Jonathan (VanderKam 2004: 270–82). After the Seleucid ruler Antiochus VI recognized Jonathan as high priest, he appointed Simon as governor of territory stretching from the Ladder of Tyre to the borders of Egypt (1 Macc 11:59). Simon backed Demetrius II in his civil war against Tryphon. Because Demetrius II no longer controlled the southern portion of his empire, and since he needed Simon’s military support to defeat his rivals, he had no choice but to grant Simon several significant concessions (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 56–61). The book of 1 Maccabees records that Demetrius II sent Simon a letter in 143/42 bce agreeing to his terms. In that year, Simon proclaimed independence from the Seleucid Empire and dated documents according to the years of “Simon, High Priest of the Jews.” His reign is documented in 1 Maccabees (13:1–16:17) and Josephus (J.W. 1.50–54; Ant. 13.213–28). After Simon secured his position as Judea’s leader and high priest, he set out to expand his realm by attacking Judea’s principal Seleucid strongholds. He captured Gezer, expelled its population, and resettled the city with observant Jews. He placed his son John Hyrcanus there as commander of his forces. The author of 1 Maccabees 13:43 reports that Simon constructed a large shooting turret and breaching device known as a helepolis, which consisted of a tower with catapults and battering rams that was manned by over 200 soldiers. This detail shows that Simon adopted the structure and weaponry of Hellenistic armies (Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 61–63). Simon also used his forces to expel the garrison from the Seleucid citadel in Jerusalem known as the Akra, which Antiochus IV Epiphanes had set up at the time of his anti-Jewish decrees. Simon instituted a yearly celebration to commemorate its capture (1 Macc 13:49–52; 14:7, 36). Simon renewed the treaties with Rome and Sparta in order to dissuade Seleucid incursions into his territory. Scholars continue to debate the nature and timing of his embassy to Rome and the historicity of his treaty with Sparta, though (1 Macc 12:2, 5–23; Ant. 13.165–70; Atkinson 2016; Dąbrowa 2010: 55; Sievers 1990: 98–9). Although Simon did not adopt the title of king, he was a Hellenistic monarch in every respect (Regev 2013: 113–17). He was supreme civil governor; the commander of the army; and it would

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soon become clear that his descendants were to succeed him. His reign marks the institutionalization of both Hasmonean rule and the family’s charisma: there would no longer be any spontaneous calls for a leader like Mattathias to save the Jews from the Seleucid rulers. The Hasmoneans beginning with Simon sought political stability by restricting virtually all authority to a single person. Simon’s combination of secular and religious power appears to have aroused considerable opposition. The author of 1 Maccabees 14:41 mentions that it was agreed by “the Ioudaioi and the priests that Simon should be their chief and high priest in perpetuity until a true prophet shall arise.” The Greek phrase “in perpetuity” does not say anything about the hereditary character of this office, but implies that Simon could be removed from the high priesthood before his death (Atkinson 2016). This tradition suggests that the Ioudaioi and the priests were unwilling to grant Simon the high priesthood forever, or give him the right to pass the office to one of his sons (Atkinson 2016). Following the 140/39 bce capture of Demetrius II by the Parthians, his brother, Antiochus VII Sidetes, confirmed upon Simon all the previous privileges the Seleucid Empire had granted to him. After Sidetes defeated Tryphon, he demanded that Simon return several towns that he claimed belonged to his kingdom. When Simon refused, Sidetes sent his forces to invade Judea. Simon’s sons, Judas and John Hyrcanus, led an army that defeated the Syrian forces commanded by Cendebaeus (1 Macc 15:38–16:10; J.W. 1.51; Ant. 13.228–29). In 134 bce Simon’s son-in-law, Ptolemy, son of Abubus, murdered him at Jericho in a failed bid to seize power. Simon’s son, John Hyrcanus, succeeded him as high priest and ruler.

Bibliography See General Bibliography KENNETH ATKINSON

Related entries: Hasmonean Dynasty; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Maccabean Revolt; Maccabees, First Book of; Priesthood; Resistance Movements; Seleucids.

Sin The Hebrew Bible uses a variety of metaphors to describe sin (Lam 2016). The most common include sin as a stain, missing the mark or path, and bearing a burden. Of these three, sin as a burden (‫ נשא‬+ ‫עון‬, ʿwn + nśʾ) is far and away the most common (Schwartz 1995). In the Second Temple period, with the arrival of Aramaic and the Mishnaic dialect of Hebrew, a new metaphor takes root: that of sin as a debt (‫חוב‬, ḥôb in Hebrew; ‫חובא‬, ḥôbʾ in Aramaic). In fact, in Rabbinic Hebrew and Aramaic, it becomes the standard idiom for sin, replacing the prominence of sin as a burden. Similarly, the verbs for forgiveness (‫מחל‬, mḥl and ‫שבק‬, šbq) also derive from the economic realm and have as a primary meaning “to cancel a bond of indebtedness.” Finally, the term for punishment (‫פורענות‬, purʿānût) comes from a verbal stem that means “to pay an obligation” (‫פרע‬, prʿ). Punishment, on this understanding, is repayment in the form of physical suffering for a debt that was incurred by sin. Signs of the arrival of this metaphor can already be found in Ben Sira and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Anderson 2009). First of all, it is noteworthy that one rarely finds the most common biblical metaphor of sin as a burden in these works. Its usage has been sharply curtailed. Secondly, the verb ‫( עזב‬ʿzb) has developed the sense of forgiveness. The root meaning of the verb in First

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Temple Hebrew is “to leave, or abandon” with the object being a land, person, or commandment; it never means “to forgive.” But in the Second Temple period it develops an additional meaning: “to release someone [from what is owed for their sins].” One striking example of this linguistic innovation can be found in 11QMelchizedek. When citing a portion of Leviticus 25 it reads: “Liberty will be proclaimed to them, to release them (‫עזב‬, ʿzb) from the [debt of] all their iniquity.” It is also striking that this Qumranic text employs Leviticus 25 and Deuteronomy 15 to illustrate forgiveness of sins. In the Bible both of these texts relate to the release of persons from financial debts; there is no connection to sin whatsoever. But due to the influence of this new metaphor for sin it was difficult for these Second Temple authors to understand these chapters in any other way. Because sin was understood as a debt, laws about the loosing of financial debts easily could be retouched to speak about spiritual debts as well. The imprint of this metaphor is also visible in Matthew’s Gospel when Jesus teaches the disciples to pray that God forgive their debts (6:12). As New Testament scholars have long observed, the usage of this economic vocabulary to describe sin and forgiveness would have sounded odd in a Greek context. The metaphor makes perfect sense when understood against the Semitic world, however. Indeed, the Greek verb for forgive (ἀφίημι, aphiēmi) matches the semantic shape of Hebrew ‫( עזב‬ʿzb) just as the word for debt (ὀφείλημα, opheilēma) matches ‫חוב‬ (ḥôb). The dynamics of this petition are nicely illustrated in the parable of the unforgiving servant (Matt 18:23–35). The king who wants to settle accounts with his servants is obviously God, and the man who owes 10,000 talents is a servant of that God in need of forgiveness. There is a connection between the king’s merciful act of remitting and what is expected of the servant. When the latter fails to remit the debts of his fellow servants, the king relents on his initial offer of mercy and hands him over to be tortured until he has paid his entire debt. The other feature that originates in Second Temple Judaism, alongside the arrival of the debt metaphor, is the notion that virtuous actions—particularly that of acting charitably—are thought to fund a treasury in heaven. Both of these images, that of debt and treasury, have not been given the attention they deserve in the secondary literature. The idea of a heavenly treasury has been largely ignored (P. Brown 1961: 27–28). E. P. Sanders (1977) probably has given the best explanation for the lacuna. A previous generation of scholars, formed by the work of Strack and Billerbeck, argued that the Judaism of Jesus’ day was characterized by meticulous attention to one’s “spiritual” bank account. God keeps a careful record of every action, and at the end of time, the account books will be opened and the fate of every person determined. Jewish religion was described as that of “self-redemption” (Selbsterlösung); there was no room for a merciful redeemer dying for one’s sins. Ironically, a survey of Jewish texts formed by the debt metaphor gives the lie to this evaluation, as does a careful reading of the Syriac Fathers, who were under the same linguistic influence. Relief from one’s spiritual debts could be every bit as gracious and unmerited as any other sort of forgiveness. A full conspectus of the various ways spiritual debts could be forgiven in the literature of Second Temple Judaism remains to be written.

Bibliography G. A. Anderson, Sin: A History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009). P. Brown, Ransom of the Soul: Afterlife and Wealth in Early Western Christianity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2016).

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R. Brown, “The Pater Noster as an Eschatological Prayer,” TS 22 (1961): 175–208. J. Lam, Patterns of Sin in the Hebrew Bible: Metaphor, Culture, and the Making of a Religious Concept (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). B. Schwartz, “The Bearing of Sin in Priestly Literature,” in Pomegranates and Golden Bells, ed. D. Wright, D. N. Freedman, and A. Hurwitz (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1995), 3–21. GARY A. ANDERSON

Related entries: Economics in Palestine; Leviticus, Book of; Matthew, Gospel of; Melchizedek Scroll (11Q13); Wealth and Poverty.

Sinai, Mount A major part of the pentateuchal narrative (Exod 19–Num 10) is situated at Mount Sinai (Figure 4.136), sometimes called “The Mountain of God” or “(Mount) Horeb” (mainly in Deut and Deuteronomistic literature). Most of the text in question consists of divine speeches addressed to Moses, to whom YHWH reveals various legal stipulations as well as instructions concerning the establishment of the cult. Prior to the erection of the tabernacle in Exodus 40, all events of revelation take place on top of Mount Sinai, where YHWH has taken abode. Although Moses ascends the mountain several times, it is only twice that he stays there for a longer period of time, namely the 40 days and 40 nights before he receives the first and second stone tablets (Exod 24:18; 34:28). For Second Temple authors, these prolonged periods of presence on the mountain, together with the debatable issue of what precisely had been written on the tablets, offered a perfect narrative framework to claim a Sinaitic origin for additional Mosaic revelations. Thus, the narrative exposition in Jubilees 1:1–4 (cf. 1:26) adopts the revelatory setting from Exodus 24:12– 18 and adds that, during the 40 days and nights on Mount Sinai, YHWH instructed Moses on

Figure 4.136  The traditional “Mount Sinai” near Saint Catherine’s Monastery (Sinai Peninsula).

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“the divisions of all the times”—a clear reference to the detailed chronology exposed in the remaining chapters of the book. In this way, Jubilees presents itself as an additional piece of Sinaitic revelation. Interestingly, the concluding verses of Jubilees 1 reflect a shift in the concept of revelation, which may come from a different editorial level. Now the angel of presence is introduced as a mediator between YHWH and Moses, and he receives the divine order to dictate to Moses what had already been written on the heavenly tablets (Jub. 1:27–29). In this perspective, Jubilees is just a copy of an earlier document which was read out on Mount Sinai. A narrative setting similar to that of Jubilees is assumed in the superscription of the Greek Apocalypse of Moses, which claims to be an angelic revelation from the time when Moses was on Mount Sinai receiving the tablets of the law. A comparable Sinaitic background was also applied by the author of the Temple Scroll. The second column of 11QTa is basically a rewriting of the divine speech from Exodus 34:10–16, supplemented with material from Deuteronomy 7:25–26. As a result, the entire scroll presents itself as a divine revelation that was received by Moses during his final stay on Mount Sinai. In this revelatory fiction, the instructions for the building of the tabernacle (Exod 25–31; 35–40) and various pentateuchal laws are paraphrased, supplemented, and rearranged. As a considerable part of the legal material is taken from the Book of Deuteronomy, the Temple Scroll thus claims a Sinaitic origin for these laws. While the texts discussed above adopt the narrative setting from Exodus 24 and 34 to claim the authority of Sinaitic revelation, there is no discernible interest in the site as such. This indifference is typical for Second Temple literature as a whole, where Mount Sinai’s topography and geographic position is rarely addressed at all. Even Josephus provides only meager information. Quoting Apion, he states that Mount Sinai is located between Egypt and Arabia (Ag. Ap. 2.25). In a different context, he mentions that it is the highest mountain of that region and very difficult to climb due to its height, its sharp rocks, and its precipices (Ant. 3.76). A few other Jewish texts refer to Mount Sinai in the context of a symbolic geography. In the Exagoge of Ezekiel the Tragedian, the site features prominently in a dream vision of Moses (Exag. 68–82): He sees God on a majestic throne on Mount Sinai, who beckons him, hands over his scepter, and withdraws. After taking his seat on the throne, Moses can see the entire world around him. The motif is in a way reminiscent of the geographic speculations in Jubilees 8:19, where Mount Sinai is portrayed as the center of the desert. Together with Mount Zion, the garden of Eden, and the Mountain of the East, Mount Sinai features prominently among the four most holy places on the earth (Jub. 4:26). According to 1 Enoch 1:4, Mount Sinai even has an eschatological significance, as it is the place to which God will descend at the time of the final judgment. In the Qumran scrolls there are several references to (Mount) Sinai, most of which are either very fragmentary or do not go beyond the thematic aspects expressed in the Hebrew Bible or Jubilees. Perhaps the sole exception is found in 4Q377 2 ii 6–7. The passage states that at Mount Sinai God spoke to the congregation of Israel “face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (a conflation of Deut 5:4 and Exod 33:11).

Bibliography G. J. Brooke, H. Najman, and L. T. Stuckenbruck, eds., The Significance of Sinai: Traditions about Sinai and Divine Revelation in Judaism and Christianity, Themes in Biblical Narrative 12 (Leiden: Brill, 2008). 742

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H. Najman, Seconding Sinai: The Development of Mosaic Discourse in Second Temple Judaism, JSJS 77 (Leiden: Brill, 2003). CHRISTOPH BERNER

Related entries: Covenant; Decalogue; Deuteronomistic Theology; Exodus, Book of; Exodus, The; Jubilees, Book of; Pentateuch.

Slavery Slavery in the Second Temple period was not only a feature of daily social life (Martin 1993; Hezser 2005); it occupied a central place in Jewish history and self-understanding. Jews traced their national origins back to slavery in Egypt. Although viewed as a distasteful experience, it came to function as the basis for a theological perception of identity (Hezser 2005: 363–79). It was held, e.g., that Israel was released from slavery under Egypt so that the nation might serve God (Exod 4:23). The liberation of Israel by God is cited as a reason for obeying God (Deut 5:15), and constitutes the grounds for God’s demand for exclusive service (Lev 25:42). This relationship with God is reflected in the way some individuals or groups designated themselves as “God’s Slave(s)” (LXX Jonah 1:9; Isa 41:8–10; Ezra 5:11). In the Second Temple and Rabbinic periods, this self-understanding was ritualized in the Passover meal, which memorializes and reenacts Israel’s freedom from slavery in Egypt and acknowledges slavery to God as an intrinsic part of Jewish experience. In Second Temple sources slavery metaphors often denote human submission to God’s authority (Byron 2003). In Paraleipomena Jeremiou, Jeremiah and Baruch are identified as slaves of God because they are among those who remained obedient (4 Bar. 1:4; 3:13; 6:10). At Qumran, the hymn of the maskil identifies either himself or the pious person in general as “your [God’s] slave” (4Q264 l.3; ‎‫עבדך‬, ʿbdk). God is sometimes portrayed as a master ready to punish his slaves (Pss. Sol. 7:9). Human beings who act against God are often punished with slavery (Bar 1:21–22; 2:21–22; T. Jud. 23: 3–5; T. Naph. 4: 2; Liv. Pro. 1:13). At the same time, God is a merciful master (Pss. Sol. 10:4). If Israel acts in accordance with God’s will, God will liberate them from slavery again. This belief that Israel’s slavery service is restricted to God is emphasized in the works of Josephus. According to Josephus, during the Jewish War rebels refused to obey and submit to Rome since paying taxes to Rome is tantamount to an enslavement that is contrary to their status as slaves of God. The theme is highlighted in the closing moments of the Masada scene, in which Eliezer exhorts his listeners “to serve neither the Romans or any other save God” (J.W. 7.323). With God as their master, they would rather commit suicide than submit to slavery under a foreign conqueror and its deified emperor. Philo of Alexandria was more philosophical in his approach. Like others, he regarded slavery to be the result of disobeying God (Praem. 162). Not all slavery, however, is bad. Philo differentiates between physical enslavement controlled by other human beings and an enslavement of the soul that is controlled by passions and vices (Prob. 17; 158–61). Indeed, physical slavery may even have the benefit of leading some to God, as in the case of Esau (Virt. 209–10). Ultimately, all human beings, not just Jews, are God’s slaves since God is creator of all (Mut. 46.4; Mos. 1.202; Plant. 53.6; Garnsey 1994). The theme is operative in the New Testament, particularly in the letters of Paul. As a Second Temple Jew, Paul stands within his ethnic and religious heritage. However, his use of slavery

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metaphors represents a new application of the theme. Rather than identify himself as a slave of God, he is a slave of Christ (Rom 1:1; cf. Phil 1:1). Like others, Paul interprets his situation through the language and imagery of the Exodus (Rom 6). Just as Israel was released from slavery in Egypt to be the slave of God, humanity was released from slavery to sin to become the slave of God (Rom 6:22). For Paul, those who identify with Christ through faith and baptism are transferred from slavery under one master (sin) to slavery under another master (God). The ultimate intention of the Christ event is not slavery to Christ, however; only God is represented as an alternative to slavery. The Christ event and enslavement to Christ are avenues through which the believer becomes an obedient slave of God (Byron 2008).

Bibliography J. Byron, Recent Research on Paul and Slavery (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2008). J. Byron, Slavery Metaphors in Early Judaism and Pauline Christianity, WUNT 2.162 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003). P. Garnsey, “Philo Judaeus and Slave Theory,” SCI 13 (1994): 30–45. C. Hezser, Jewish Slavery in Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). D. B. Martin, “Slavery and the Ancient Jewish Family,” in The Jewish Family in Antiquity. Slavery and the Ancient Jewish Family, ed. S. J. D. Cohen, Brown Judaica Series 289 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993), 113–29. JOHN BYRON

Related entries: Baruch, Fourth Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Judgment; Masada, History of; Pauline Letters; Revolt, First Jewish.

Slavonic The adjective “Slavonic” specifies a family of languages historically associated with the geographical territories of Eastern Europe (though eventually adopted as the lingua franca of several central Asian territories), as well as texts preserved or composed within those languages. Widely, the adjective is used interchangeably with “Slavic”; many linguists prefer to use the latter, confining the application of “Slavonic” to the ecclesial literary languages of Old Church Slavonic and Slavonic. Others, however, still use the longer adjective to label all languages within the family, a convention followed in this article. As literary languages, the Slavonic languages are encountered first in the 9th century (from 862/63) through the writing system associated with the missionary work of Cyril and Methodius. The literary languages and their vernacular counterparts can be traced back to a hypothetical “proto-Slavonic” forebear, with this in turn linked by most linguists to a posited “proto-BalticSlavonic” language. The Slavonic (or Slavic) languages are generally divided into three major groups: West Slavonic, South Slavonic, and East Slavonic. Two alphabets are generally used today: West Slavonic languages (such as Polish and Slovak) and South West Slavonic (such as Slovene and Croatian) use the Latin alphabet; East Slavonic (such as Russian and Ukrainian) and South East Slavonic (such as Bulgarian) use Cyrillic. A third alphabet, Glagolitic, was employed in the earliest period of the literary language of Old Church Slavonic and probably represents the alphabet originally developed by Cyril and Methodius; it was displaced by Cyrillic (a modified alphabet developed by the Preslav Literary School) from the late 9th century onward, its usage

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thereafter largely confined to Croatia. For those familiar with the modern Cyrillic alphabets, it may be important to note that a number of characters from the medieval alphabet were removed in the modern period, through processes of reform. The term “Church Slavonic” is applied as a rather broad label to the language and literature encountered from the early 12th century, within which the dialectical variations of the later languages (such as Russian and Bulgarian) can be identified. The terminological distinction between this and “Old Church Slavonic” is often neglected by biblical scholars. Old Church Slavonic is the older ecclesial language of the 9th–11th centuries and is more narrowly South Slavonic in character. As scholars seek to identify the translational provenance of specific texts and to construct and evaluate stemmata, one of the factors that is often rightly brought into the discussion is the dominance of particular cultural centers, and their associated dialects, during specific historical periods. From the late 9th century to the late 10th century, e.g., the Preslav Literary School of the First Bulgarian Empire was dominant and translated numerous texts from Greek into Slavonic. For this reason Old Church Slavonic is also sometimes designated Old Bulgarian, though linguists now confine that term to the texts associated with the First Bulgarian Empire, rather than to all those composed within the time period. For scholars of Second Temple Judaism, the language group is important because of several works preserved in medieval collections that were almost certainly translated into Slavonic from Byzantine Greek texts or, more rarely, from medieval Hebrew (Lunt and Taube 1988). These generally bring multiple prior works together, either in the form of world chronographies, often called “paleas,” or in the form of compendia, for which the Slavic word is sborniki. In some cases, these are originally Christian works that may cast light on the influence of medieval Judaism (as the inheritor of Second Temple traditions) on Christian thought and literature. In other cases, however, it is possible that the manuscripts preserve Church Slavonic translations of originally

Figure 4.137  2 Enoch Title and Opening Lines from Manuscript U (Uvar. 18-1 GIM 80269, 626v; 15th cent.).

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Second Temple Jewish works, transmitted through Byzantine Greek. Works often seen to preserve Second Temple Jewish material include the Apocalypse of Abraham, The Slavonic Ladder of Jacob, and 2 (Slavonic Apocalypse of) Enoch (Figure 4.137). The last of these illustrates some of the characteristic problems that are associated with the study of works preserved in Church Slavonic: the text itself is extremely fluid, with multiple recensions spread across the language subgroups and evidence of contemporary interference from other circulating texts (Macaskill 2013: 3–35). A number of works with Slavonic versions are also known in other languages, including Testament of Abraham, Joseph and Aseneth, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Testament of Job, and Life of Moses. It is often difficult to reconstruct stemmata for given works that have been preserved in the Slavonic languages, and any such genealogies should be interpreted and applied with caution. Many factors come into play, including the complexities associated with the language group, the possibility that more than one translational event has taken place for each work, and the interference of traditions found extensively across the medieval Christian territories, including those of Jewish communities.

Bibliography L. DiTomasso and C. Böttrich, eds., The Old Testament Apocrypha in the Slavonic Tradition: Continuity and Diversity, Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 140 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). H. G. Lunt and M. Taube, “Early East Slavic Translations from Hebrew?” Russian Linguistics 12 (1988), 147–87. GRANT MACASKILL

Related entries: Enoch, Slavonic Apocalypse of (2 Enoch); Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings.

Solomon Sources.  Literary sources on King Solomon in Second Temple Judaism include descriptions (Sir 47:13–21; 2 Macc 2, 8, 10, 12; Josephus, Ant. 8.1–208) as well as texts attributed to him (Wisdom of Solomon; Psalms of Solomon). Solomon’s architectural legacy, the First Jerusalem Temple, was vivid in ancient Jewish cultural memory as a structure that surpassed the Second Temple in size until King Herod’s days (Ant. 15.385). The architectural legacy of this First Temple is even echoed in early Christian references to the so-called Portico of Solomon (John 10:23; Acts 3:11; 5:12). Images of Solomon.  The biblical figure of Solomon is determined by a received tradition with images of him as king, successor of David (1 Kgs 1–2); as sage, known for his wisdom (1 Kgs 3; 10) and for proverbs and poems (Proverbs; Song); and as architect, builder of the First Temple in Jerusalem (1 Kgs 6; 8). Biblical tradition further records dark sides of Solomon’s reign (cf. 1 Kgs 11) with a divided kingdom as his posterity, on which Second Temple Judaism also elaborated. As king, the received image of Solomon who continued the dynasty of David as consolidator of a hardfought peace is reiterated by a reign “in days of peace” in Sirach 47:13. The days of “Solomon the son of David” (4QMMTe f 11 xiii 1 = C 18) are associated with part of the blessings of the covenant in the book of Moses in 4QMMT, which further invites its readers to reflect on the deeds of the kings of Israel in their respective search of Torah. The significance of King Solomon 746

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is further highlighted in Josephus’ extensive portrait of him (Ant. 8.1–208). And yet, according to Sirach 47:18–21, the twilight of King Solomon’s reign begins with the material side of his splendor, for his subjection by his body alongside the wisdom of his soul brings disgrace and defilement to Solomon’s posterity (cf. Wright 2011: 150–5). Josephus identifies this twilight as delusion by women and transgression of the Law at Solomon’s coming of age, whose reign was otherwise perceived as superior in happiness, riches, and wisdom (Ant. 8.208; cf. Verheyden 2013: 99–101). As sage, Solomon is widely known for his parables, riddles, songs, proverbs, interpretations, and acquisition of knowledge and wisdom (Sir 47:15–17; Wis 7:7–14). A proverb of Solomon (Prov 3:18) was further counted among Jewish paideia in 4 Maccabees 18:16 in defense of martyrdom for the Law. The Second Temple Jewish literature attributed to Solomon comprises sapiential (Wis) and psalmic (Pss. Sol.) texts. The “wisdom of Solomon” also occurs as an established image in a hyperbolic context in the teachings of Jesus (Matt 12:42 par. Luke 11:31). As architect, Solomon appears unsurpassed as builder of the Temple of Jerusalem (Feldman 1998: 605–10; Verheyden 2013: 88). In 2 Maccabees 2:8–12, Moses and Solomon are even compared, as concerns their prayer to God and sanctification of their offerings through fire from heaven. Josephus recasts the image of Solomon’s dedicatory prayer from a biblical request for the presence of God’s name (1 Kgs 8:29; 2 Chr 6:7–10) into an entreaty for God’s Spirit to dwell in the Temple (Ant. 8.114). Transformations in Traditions Attributed to Solomon.  In addition to biblical images of Solomon, on which Second Temple Jewish literature further elaborated, some images attributed to Solomon are notable for their marked transformation of biblical tradition. As for Solomon as king, the Psalms of Solomon may imply his descent as “son of David” (Pss. Sol. 17:21), but this image is here laden with messianic expectations of the late Second Temple period. The image of Solomon the king is thereby transformed into an expected king who will rule over Israel and subdue the nations. As for Solomon as sage, Second Temple Jewish expansions on biblical tradition about Solomon’s wisdom came to include discernment of good and evil not only in the human world of politics but also in the supernatural world of spirits. Even though the image of Solomon as a powerful magus reached its most mature form from late antiquity onward, incantations and exorcisms of demons attributed to Solomon by Josephus (Ant. 8.42–49) and in the Dead Sea Scrolls (11QapPs=11Q11 ii 2) indicate that this development was already well under way in the Second Temple period (Torijano 2002: 6; Wright 2011: 140–2).

Bibliography L. H. Feldman, “Josephus’ Portrait of Solomon,” Josephus’ Interpretation of the Bible (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 570–628. B. G. Wright, III, “Solomon in Chronicles and Ben Sira: A Study in Contrasts,” in Rewriting Biblical History. Essays on Chronicles and Ben Sira in Honour of Pancratius C. Beentjes, ed. J. Corley and H. van Grol, DCLS 7 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011), 139–58. ALBERT L. A. HOGETERP

Related entires: Architecture; Ben Sira; Demons and Exorcism; Divination and Magic; Josephus, Writings of; Kings, Books of; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Maccabees, Second Book of; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Penitential Prayer; Proverbs, Book of; Song of Songs; Wisdom Literature. 747

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Son of God In the Ancient Near East and in Late Antiquity the epithet “son of God” or “son of the gods” was applied to various celestial beings and human beings (real or imagined). Persian kings and Egyptian pharaohs were divinized and imagined as, in some way, the offspring or adopted sons of the gods. In the Judeo-Christian world “son of God” took on eschatological and messianic overtones. “Son” Texts in the Hebrew Bible.  In this ancient literature “son of God/gods” is applied to angels (Gen 6:2; Job 1:6; Dan 3:25), to Israel (Exod 4:22–23; Hos 11:1; Mal 2:10), and to Israel’s king (2 Sam 7:14; Pss 2:7; 89:26–27). It is the imagined divine sonship of the king that in later Judeo-Christian theology gave rise to various expressions of messianic eschatology, i.e., the expectation that an anointed king, or messiah, would come in the last days to redeem Israel and judge the wicked. Son of God in Greek and Roman Traditions.  Many Greek despots and kings called themselves “son of god” or son of one deity or another. Divine names were incorporated into dynastic titles. Antiochus II (r. 261–247 bce) called himself Theos (“God”). Antiochus IV (reigned 175–163) called himself Epiphanes (“Manifestation”), implying that he was a manifestation of God (Hengel 1976: 23–32; Collins and Collins 2008: 48–74). Roman emperors were called “god” and “son of god.” As son of god the emperor was regarded as high priest (pontifex maximus) and mediator between humanity and heaven (Peppard 2011: 31–49). “Son” Texts in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature.  Among the scrolls recovered from Qumran at least one text speaks of a “Son of God.” According to 4Q246 a Jewish royal figure will appear: “He will be called the Son of God; they will call him the Son of the Most High” (ii 1). Although it is disputed, most scholars believe the figure envisioned is the eschatological messiah. The quotation of 2 Samuel 7:14 (where God says of David’s descendant, “I will be a father to him, and he will be my son”) in 4Q174 i 11 is probably messianic. The passage from 2 Samuel 7, along with Psalm 2, lies behind the declaration in 1QSa ii 11–12 that in the day of restoration God will “father the messiah.” The “firstborn son” of 4Q369 ii 6 refers either to David or to his messianic descendant. The divinity of the Messiah is strongly implied in 4Q521. In language drawn from Psalm 146:6–8, the author of the now-fragmentary scroll envisions the appearance of God’s messiah, whom “heaven and earth will obey.” This anointed figure will do the very deeds of God, liberating prisoners, opening the eyes of the blind, and raising up those bowed down. Although not called “Son of God,” at least not in the extant fragments of the scroll, this figure appears to be possessed of divine power. God’s Son may be referenced in 4 Ezra 13:52, but the text is uncertain (some manuscripts read “Servant” or “Son of Man”). God tells Ezra that the man seen in the vision is an eschatological figure who will remain hidden until the end time. The evidence from the Hebrew Bible, together with its interpretation in the Qumran scrolls, makes it unnecessary to explain the application of Son of God language to the Jewish messiah (whether in general or to Jesus of Nazareth in particular) as the result of secondary exposure (i.e. post-Easter, in the case of Christianity) to the Greco-Roman world. 748

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“Son” Texts in the New Testament.  Although some of the Son texts and themes in the New Testament may reflect new ideas, they probably are rooted in one way or another in Second Temple Jewish expectations. Several times in the Gospels Jesus is addressed as Son of God. The temptation tradition preserved in Q has Satan address Jesus as “Son of God” (Matt 4:3, 6; Luke 4:3, 9), as do evil spirits (Matt 8:29; Mark 3:11; Luke 4:41). The disciples confess Jesus as the Son of God (Matt 14:33; John 1:34, 49; 11:27). Before the Jewish council Jesus is asked if he is “the Messiah, the Son of God” (Matt 26:63; cf. 27:40, 43). When converted, Saul (Paul) begins to proclaim the divine sonship of Jesus (Acts 9:20). Three times in his undisputed letters Paul refers to Jesus as the Son of God (Rom 1:4; 2 Cor 1:19; Gal 2:20). Often the apostle simply refers to Jesus as “Son,” which is shorthand for Son of God. Sometimes in describing the identity and attributes of Jesus, Paul makes use of texts from the Hebrew Bible that speak of Yahweh (somewhat analogous to what is noted above for 4Q521). In the General Epistles Jesus is several times described as the Son of God (Heb 4:14; 6:6; 7:3; 10:29; 1 John 3:8; 4:15; 5:5, 10, 12, 13, 20). Once Jesus is so described in the Book of Revelation (Rev 2:18). The epithet “Son of God” is ubiquitous in post-New Testament Christian literature (e.g. Did. 16:4; Ign. Eph. 20:2; Ign. Smyrn. 1:2; Ign. Phld. 12:2; Barn. 5:11; 7:2, 9; 12:9; Shepherd of Hermas passim; Irenaeus, Haer. 1.3.6; 1.9.2–3; 1.10.1, 3; passim). Early Christian fathers explored the Christological implications of the identification of Jesus as Son of God. Among other things, the Son’s “pre-existence” and close association with God “the Father” contributed to an emerging Trinitarian understanding of God.

Bibliography J. J. Collins and A. Yarbro Collins, King and Messiah as Son of God: Divine, Human, and Angelic Messianic Figures (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008). M. Hengel, The Son of God: The Origin of Christology and the History of Jewish-Hellenistic Religion (London: SCM Press; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976). M. Peppard, The Son of God in the Roman World: Divine Sonship in its Social and Political Context (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). CRAIG A. EVANS

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Luke-Acts; Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521); Messianism; Pauline Letters; Samuel, Books of; Sons of God; Son of Man.

Son of Man In the Hebrew Bible, “son of man” often translates the Hebrew phrases ‫( בן אדם‬bn ʾdm) and ‫( בן אנוש‬bn ʾnwš), and the Aramaic ‫( בר אנש‬br ʾnš). These terms can refer to a specific human being (Ezek 3:1, passim) but primarily to humanity in general (MT Pss 8:5; 80:18; 144:3; Job 16:21; 25:6; Isa 51:12; Jer 49:18; 1QHa ix 34; 1QapGen xxi 13), often in poetic parallelism with other terms for humanity. In the New Testament, the Greek phrase ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου (ho huios tou anthrōpou, “the Son of [the] Man”) is used as a title for Jesus (Grabbe 2016).

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Daniel.  The most significant use of “son of man” in early Judaism is Daniel’s vision of “one like a son of man” (‫כבר אנש‬, kbr ʾnš) (7:13–14). In Daniel 7:1–8, Daniel sees four beasts who are likened to various animals. After the ancient of days appears and judges the fourth beast (7:9–12), “one like a son of man” comes with the clouds of heaven. The figure is given dominion, glory, and a kingdom that will not be destroyed. All peoples and nations serve him. The son of man figure may symbolize the saints of the Most High, i.e. Israel (7:27), or an angelic or human representative ruler of the saints (7:17–18) (Collins 2010). Parables of Enoch.  The Parables of Enoch (1 En 37–71) interprets the Danielic son of man as an individual messiah figure (45–47, 61, 68). The Enochic figure is called Chosen/Elect One, Son of Man, Anointed One, and Righteous One. Although Son of Man is the second most common designation, three Ethiopic phrases underlie the translation “Son of Man”—walda sabʾ (“son of humankind”), walda beʾesi (“son of man”), walda ʾegwāla ʾemaḥeyāw (“son of the offspring of the mother of the living”) (VanderKam 1992). Imagery from Daniel 7, Psalm 2, and Isaiah 11, 42, 49, 52–53 are used to describe this figure, who is seated on the Lord of Spirits’ throne (62:3), judges sinners (69:27), and is preexistent (48:2–3, 6; 62:7). In chapter 71, Enoch is named as the Son of Man (VanderKam 1992; Collins 2010). 4 Ezra.  In 4 Ezra, Ezra sees a vision of a man coming from the sea and flying with the clouds of heaven in a clear allusion to Daniel 7:13 (13:3; cf. 4 Ezra 12:11). A multitude gathers to wage war against him. He destroys them with fire from his mouth (cf. Ps 2:9; Isa 11:4; Pss. Sol. 17:24) and calls a peaceful multitude. In the vision’s interpretation, the fire represents the figure’s judgment and destruction of the nations (13:36–38). Fourth Ezra depicts the Danielic son of man as the messiah, judge, defender of the righteous, and God’s “son” or “servant.” 2 Baruch. Second Baruch portrays the Danielic son of man as the anointed one, who will convict and destroy the leader of the fourth kingdom (39:3–7; 40:1). His dominion will last forever (40:3; 73:1–74:4), he is called God’s servant (70:9; cf. Isa 49:6), and he will rule over the righteous in peace. 4Q246.  The “Son of God” figure in the fragmentary 4Q246 text has often been linked to the Danielic figure, but it is difficult to discern whether the “Son of God” is positive or negative (Collins 2010). If positive, the figure appears messianic but is only possibly an interpretation of Daniel’s son of man. New Testament.  In the four Gospels, “the Son of Man” refers to Jesus, and only Jesus speaks the phrase (cf. Luke 24:7; John 12:34). The “Son of Man problem” refers to the difficulty inherent in understanding the background and meaning of Jesus’ use of the phrase. Some regard the phrase as a self-reference (Casey 2007; Vermes 2010), while others emphasize the identification of Jesus with the Danielic son of man (e.g. Mark 13:26; 14:62) (Burkett 1999; Grabbe 2016). Hebrews 2:6, quoting Psalm 8:5 LXX, refers to Jesus as “son of man,” and Revelation 1:13; 14:14 (cf. 1:7) draw explicitly on wording from Daniel 7 to describe the glorified Jesus. 750

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Although debate continues regarding Jesus’ use of “the Son of Man,” within early Judaism Daniel’s son of man was interpreted as an individual messiah in association with Davidic and servant concepts in texts such as Psalm 2 and Isaiah 11, 42, 49.

Bibliography D. R. Burkett, The Son of Man Debate: A History and Evaluation, SNTSMS 107 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). M. Casey, The Solution to the Son of Man Problem (London: T&T Clark, 2007). L. L. Grabbe, “‘Son of Man’: Its Origin and Meaning in Second Temple Judaism,” Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels (2016), 169–98. G. Vermes, “The Son of Man Debate Revisited (1960–2010),” JJS 61.2 (2010): 193–206. BENJAMIN E. REYNOLDS

Related entries: Angels; Baruch, Second Book of; Daniel; Daniel, Book of; Election; Enoch; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Kingship in Second Temple Judaism; Son of God; Sons of God.

Sons of God The term “son(s) of (the) God(s)” has a long history in ancient literary traditions and, in part, serves as a window into ancient conceptions of the divine realm. Within the ancient Near Eastern (e.g. Mesopotamia, Egypt, Syria-Palestine) and Mediterranean worlds (e.g. Hesiod’s “Theogony”), pantheons were often structured in a manner similar to that of a family. Thus, e.g., there was normally a primordial couple, a god and goddess (analogous to a family patriarch and matriarch). These would be considered the original heads of a pantheon (e.g. Apsu and Tiamat in the Mesopotamian Enuma Elish, later succeeded by Marduk; similarly, El and Asherah are the heads of the pantheon in the Ugaritic texts). These heads of the pantheon would sometimes engage in some form of procreation and divine children would be born, and to these second generation gods and goddesses, more divine children would be born, and so on through the generations (for similar themes, see the early 2nd cent. 64–141 ce Phoenician History of Philo of Byblos, esp. PE 1.10.14–30 on the History of Kronos). These children would be considered “the sons” and “the daughters” of the God(s). Because of the patriarchal nature of much of the ancient Near Eastern literature, the focus is often on the divine sons, and because there were many divine sons, the term “the sons of the Gods” is well attested. Before turning to the Bible, it is useful to refer to some of the precise textual references in Northwest Semitic literature to provide a broader context. At the ancient Syrian site of Ugarit, e.g., texts from the 13th and 12th centuries bce written in a Northwest Semitic language known as Ugaritic use the term bn ‘il(m) “son(s) of God(s)” to signify a God who is descended from (an)other God(s) (e.g. in Aqhat, CAT 1.17 vi:28–29). Similarly, in Phoenician inscriptions from Karatepe (8th cent. bce), the same term (bn ‘lm) “the sons of the Gods” signifies the divine descendants of the heads of the pantheon (KAI 26 A, iii 19). Sometimes all of these Gods might convene in an assembly, and so there are references to the gathered “circle of the sons of El” at Ugarit (e.g. CAT 1.15.III 19; 1.40.25, 33, 34). Finally, in rare cases in the ancient Near East, a king could also be referred to as divine, a son of the God(s). Among the most famous examples of this is King Naram-Sin of Akkad, the grandson of Sargon the Great (late 3rd millennium bce). 751

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In the Hebrew Bible, the term benê haʾelōhîm (‫בני האלהים‬, which in Hebrew, like its Semitic cognates, can mean “the sons of the Gods” or “the sons of the God”) is used on a number of occasions. It can refer to the divine descendants of the head(s) of the pantheon. For example, it occurs in Job 1:6 and 2:1: the texts state that benê haʾelōhîm came to stand before Yahweh, that “the satan” (a literal translation of the Hebrew) was with them and that a debate ensues about Job’s piety. Similarly, within the Psalms, there are multiple references to benê haʾelōhîm (or to equivalents of that expression such as benê ʾēlîm), with the verdict of the Psalmist that none of the benê ʾēlîm is similar to Yahweh (Ps 89:7) and that all of the benê ʾēlîm should ascribe to Yahweh’s glory and strength (Ps 29:1). Again, this term refers to divine male descendants from heads of the pantheon. Among the most fascinating biblical texts in this regard is Deuteronomy 32:8–9. The reading of this pericope from Qumran (4QDeutj) says, “When Elyon (‘God Most High’) apportioned the nations, establishing boundaries of peoples according to the number of benê haʾelōhîm, the portion belonging to Yahweh was his people, Jacob his allotted portion.” This oldest and best reading of the text is corroborated by the Septuagint, which, against the Masoretic Text reading “sons of Israel,” reads ἀγγέλων θεοῦ (aggelōn theou, ‟angels of God”), which in turn presupposes a Hebrew Vorlage with benê haʾelōhîm. According to a straightforward reading of this text, Elyon is understood as the head of the pantheon (the term “Elyon” literally has within it the sense of “highest”). This God divides the world up into nations, establishing boundaries and borders. The basis for the number of nations is the “number of benê haʾelōhîm” (i.e. each nation has a patron deity or divine couple). Deuteronomy 32:9 goes on to state that during this process, Jacob (i.e. Israel) became Yahweh’s people. Striking, therefore, is the Masoretic Text, and arguably its Hebrew Vorlage: “When Elyon apportioned the nations, establishing boundaries of peoples according to the number of the benê Yisrāʾēl, the portion belonging to Yahweh was his people, Jacob his allotted portion.” That is, the Masoretic Text changed the polytheistic expression benê haʾelōhîm to the innocuous benê Yisrāʾēl (‫בני ישראל‬, “the sons of Israel”). This is precisely Tov’s understanding of the change: “The scribe of an early text, now reflected in MT, did not feel at ease with this polytheistic picture and replaced ‘sons of El’ [benê haʾelōhîm] with benê Yisrāʾēl” (Tov 2012: 249). In short, for theological reasons, a copyist changed benê ha’elōhîm to benê Yisrāʾēl. The Aramaic equivalent of the Hebrew benê haʾelōhîm occurs in the Book of Daniel (with the term “son” being singular, but with the same semantic domain in Semitic). Set on the lips of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon are these words: bar ʾElāhîn (‫בר אלהין‬, “son of the Gods,” Dan 3:25). In the immediate context, Nebuchadnezzar is said to have ordered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to be thrown into a fiery furnace. However, upon looking into the furnace, Nebuchadnezzar notes that he saw four men, not three, and then he states that one of them looked like “a son of a God.” Of course, this narrative (quite rightly) supposes that Nebuchadnezzar would have embraced the notion of a divine pantheon; thus it does not surprise if he regarded the additional figure to have been some sort of divine messenger. One of the oldest and most influential texts is Genesis 6:1–4, with its narrative about benê haʾelōhîm (“the sons of the Gods”) and the bĕnôt hā’ādām (“the daughters of people” or “human women”). According to the text, “People began to increase in number upon the face of the land and daughters were born to them. And benê haʾelōhîm saw bĕnôt hāʾādām because they were beautiful, and they took some of them as wives, from all whom they chose” (Gen 6:1–2). Within the ancient Near Eastern world and much of the First Temple period, this text 752

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would have been understood as declaring that “Junior Gods” (i.e. the male Gods descended from the God and Goddess at the head of the Divine Pantheon) noticed the beauty of human women and took some of them as wives (cf. Hendel 1987: 13–26; Rollston 2003: 102–10). However, during the late First Temple period just prior to 586 bce and the early Second Temple period (beginning 516 bce), monotheism became more normative (e.g. Jer 10:1–16; Isa 44:9–20, and Ezek throughout). For this reason, during the Second Temple period the polytheistic tone of Genesis 6:1–4 was recontextualized and understood differently, with three major interpretations: (1) The benê haʾelōhîm of Genesis 6:1–2 were “angels,” an interpretation enshrined in 1 Enoch 6:1–2, in the Septuagint translation, and in Josephus (Ant. 1.73), even though the Hebrew word for “angel” does not occur in the Hebrew text. (2) The benê haʾelōhîm of Genesis were great kings of the ancient Near Eastern world (an interpretation preserved in the Midrash Rabbah to Genesis), even though the Hebrew word for “king” does not occur in the text. Finally, (3) the benê haʾelōhîm could be considered “godly Sethites,” (an interpretation often found within certain segments of Early Christianity), though the Hebrew word “Seth” does not occur in the Hebrew text (for discussion and references of the first two interpretations, see Rollston 2005: 344–60, and for the third, see Wickham 1974). The traditions enshrined in Enoch are among the most interesting (i.e. benê haʾelōhîm were disobedient angels), along with the same basic interpretation found in various Dead Sea Scrolls (see esp. Stuckenbruck 2014: 1–35). For example, according to 1 Enoch 6:1–2, “When humanity had multiplied, it happened that there were born unto them handsome and beautiful daughters. And the angels, the children of heaven, saw them and desired them; and they said to one another. ‘Come, let us choose wives for ourselves from among the daughters of man and beget us children.’” A list of these angels’ names follows, and then it is stated that these angels taught their human wives “magical medicine, incantations, the cutting of roots, and [also] taught them (about) plants. And the women became pregnant and gave birth to great giants whose heights were three hundred cubits [i.e. 450 feet]” (1 En. 6:7–7:2; 8:3; translation of Isaac in Charlesworth 1983). Subsequently, Enoch (the major protagonist, drawn from the narrative of Genesis 5:21– 24) conveys to these “Watchers” (i.e. the angels who “defiled themselves with women … having taken unto themselves wives”) a message of doom, denying them forgiveness and decreeing the same fate for their murderous children (1 En. 10:12). The same assumption about the benê ha’elōhîm of Genesis 6 being “fallen angels” (also “Watchers”) is present in various texts from Qumran, including the Genesis Apocryphon (1Q20 ii), where Noah’s father Lamech erroneously fears that his wife had been impregnated by the Watchers (cf. also 1 En. 106). In sum, the expression “the son of the God(s)” is well attested in the ancient Semitic world as a way to denote a descendant of the God(s). Therefore, it seemed entirely reasonable to certain writers of the New Testament to use the term for Jesus of Nazareth as well. Indeed, within a wide range of New Testament texts, “son of God” frequently refers to Jesus (e.g. Matt 14:33; 16:16; Mark 1:1; 3:11; Luke 1:35; 4:41; John 1:49; 10:36; Acts 20:1; Rom 1:4; 1 John 5:5; Rev 2:18). Though one might contest that the expression does not suggest divinity, its meaning in Semitic literature suggests that New Testament writers employed it in this way. Of course, to complicate matters, some of the language in Hellenistic Judaism (such as Philo) may have broadened the original semantic range of the term “the son of God” (e.g. his usage of the term in discussing the designation for Israel in Deut 14:1, Conf. 135–137). And, of course, some New Testament texts 753

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suggest that believers can be called “sons” or “children of God” as well without suggesting the divinity of these believers (e.g. Luke 20:36; Rom 8:14, 19). In short, while a broader semantic range may be attested during the late Second Temple period (Collins 2000: 85–100), the original Semitic expression normally signified divine ancestry. Finally, it is worth noting that during the early centuries of Christianity, there was much debate and discussion concerning the precise meaning of the phrase, with (4th cent. ce) figures such as Athanasius and Arius holding quite different views.

Bibliography A.Y. Collins, “Mark and his Readers: The Son of God among Greeks and Romans,” HTR 93 (2000): 85–100. E. Isaac, “1  Enoch,” OTP 1 (1983): 5–89. R. Hendel, “Of Demigods and the Deluge: Toward an Interpretation of Genesis 6:1–4,” JBL 106 (1987): 13–26. C. Rollston, “The Rise of Monotheism in Ancient Israel: Biblical and Epigraphic Evidence,” StoneCampbell Journal 6 (2003): 95–115. C. Rollston, “The Sons of the God(s) and the Daughters of Men (Genesis 6:1–4): A Model for Interpretive Method,” in Emmanuel at Forty: Heritage and Promise (Johnson City: Emmanuel School of Religion Press, 2005), 344–60. L. R. Wickham, “The Sons of God and the Daughters of Men: Genesis vi 2 in Early Christian Exegesis,” OTS 19 (1974): 135–47. CHRISTOPHER A. ROLLSTON

Related entries: Angels; Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Deuteronomy, Book of; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Enochic Circles; Job, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Mediator Figure; Mesopotamia, Media, and Babylonia; Satan and Related Figures; Son of God.

Spirit, Holy Writings from the Second Temple period contain myriad signs of spiritual vitality, which put the lie to a negative portrayal of Judaism during the New Testament era, according to which Jews believed that the Holy Spirit had departed from Israel. Already, more than a century ago, Paul Volz challenged this negative portrayal of Judaism as a spiritually empty religion. Volz advised, “The habit of comparing a form of Judaism that is coming to an end with a youthful form of Christianity has led regularly to a misunderstanding of the former. This is historically unsuitable and, moreover, it is far more probable that the new religion arose out of a period of religious stirring and deep feeling rather than out of a torpid and dying one” (144; author’s translation; see Levison 2009: 114). A negative assessment of Judaism is based upon a misreading of a passage in Tosefta Soṭah 13:2–4 and a smattering of other texts (Ps 74:9; Pr Azar 15; 1 Macc 4:46, 9:27, 14:41; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.37–41; 2 Bar 85:3). These texts are alleged to mean that, with the end of the canonical prophets, the Holy Spirit withdrew from Israel. This misreading has come under increased scrutiny by D. Aune, R. Leivestad, F. Greenspahn, and J. R. Levison (1997), and it is evident now that the Tosefta passage refers, not to the absence of the Spirit but, to its presence whenever righteous sages such as Rabbi Hillel are on the earth. 754

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Second Temple Claims to the Spirit.  Even if this negative portrayal had worth, its assertion that the Spirit had disappeared, as M. M. B. Turner notes (1996: 194), would create “an all-tooapparent tension between the assertions of the cessation of the Spirit/prophecy and continuing claims to prophecy.” Four of the most substantial extant sources, in fact—Ben Sira, Philo, Josephus, and the Dead Sea Scrolls—contain vivid claims to experiences of the Spirit during the Second Temple period. Ben Sira, with autobiographical overtones, depicts the scribe who, “filled with (a) spirit of understanding,” pours out words of wisdom (Sir 39:6–8). Philo Judaeus more than once attributes his allegorical interpretation to the Spirit (Somn. 2.252; Spec. 3:1–6; Cher. 27–29). Similarly, Josephus experiences dreams by which he claims to receive the inspired ability to interpret prophecies (J.W. 3.351–53). The author of the hymns in the Dead Sea Scrolls thanks God for the Spirit, which inspires him to understand divine mysteries (e.g. 1QH xx 11–12). Diversity of Perspectives. The term, (Holy) Spirit, did not possess a single meaning in the Second Temple period. Perspectives familiar from the Hebrew Bible are often preserved; the Holy Spirit is poured out, e.g., upon key figures, such as Rebecca (Jub 25:14) in the Book of Jubilees. At times, the Spirit exists within a human being over the course of a lifetime. In the book of Susannah, Daniel is said to have a “holy spirit” (Sus 45; see LXX Dan 5:12; 6:4). In the Dead Sea Scrolls, community members are urged not to defile their Holy Spirit for greed (CD vii 3–6; see CD v 11–13). Often, the influence of Stoicism is apparent. In the Wisdom of Solomon, the Spirit unites and unifies the cosmos, as in Stoicism (Wis 7:22–25). The Greek version of Psalm 51 goes so far as to describe the Spirit as hegemonic—a key Stoic conception of the ruling portion of the soul (LXX Ps 50:14). A Greco-Roman penchant for ecstasy emerges often as well. For example, Josephus and Philo reinterpret Balaam’s inspiration to mirror the ventriloquists—a Greco-Roman conception of inspiration, foreign to the Hebrew Bible, in which the Spirit bypasses prophets’ personal functions and makes them unwitting instruments of the divine (e.g. Philo, Mos 1.274–77; Her. 265; Josephus, Ant. 4.108). Myriad Effects. The Spirit brings in its train an array of effects. (1) Prophecy is foremost, though it is construed in a variety of ways, depending upon the level of influence from GrecoRoman conceptions of ecstatic prophecy (e.g. Philo, Her. 265; LAB 28:6; Jub 31:11). (2) The Spirit inspires an ability to interpret scripture (e.g. Sir 39:6–8; Philo, Spec. 3:1–6; Josephus, J.W. 3.351–53; 1QHa xx 11–12). (3) The Spirit is associated with the creation of the whole earth (e.g. 4 Ezra 6:39; Jud 16:14). (4) The Spirit purifies (m. Soṭah 9:15). (5) The Spirit is associated with eschatological figures, including messianic ones (Is 11:1–9; Pss. Sol. 17:37; 11Q13 ii 18; 1QSb v 25–26; 4Q521; see on David’s inspiration (11Q5 27)) and the Elect One of the Enochic Book of Parables (1 En 49:2–3).

Bibliography J. R. Levison, “Did the Spirit Withdraw From Israel? An Evaluation of the Earliest Jewish Data,” NTS 43 (1997): 35–57. J. R. Levison, The Spirit in First Century Judaism, AGJU 29 (Leiden: Brill, 1997).

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J. R. Levison, Filled with the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009). P. Schäfer, Die Vorstellung vom Heiligen Geist in der Rabbinischen Literatur, SzANT 28 (Munich: Kösel, 1972). E. Tigchelaar, “Historical Origins of the Early Christian Concept of the Holy Spirit: Perspectives from the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Holy Spirit, Inspiration, and the Cultures of Antiquity: Multidisciplinary Perspectives, ed. J. Frey and J. R. Levison, Ekstasis 5 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014), 167–240. M. M. B. Turner, Power from on High: The Spirit in Israel’s Restoration and Witness in Luke-Acts, JPTS 9 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). JOHN R. LEVISON

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Philo of Alexandria.

Stars Like their Near East neighbors, the ancient Hebrews believed that the stars were animate and intelligent. Other nations commonly worshiped them as gods, but Israel was explicitly charged not to do so (Deut 4:19; cf. LXX Hos 13:4). The Hebrew Bible regularly emphasizes the obedience of the starry hosts and their complete subordination to Yahweh, and these ideas are reiterated in Jewish literature of the Second Temple period: Yahweh created the stars (Gen 1:16; Isa 40:26; 45:12), numbered and named them (Ps 147:4), and they respond immediately to his commands (Isa 40:26; Job 38:32; Sir 17:32; 43:8–10; Ep Jer 6:60; Pss. Sol. 18:10–12; 1 En. 75:7; Philo, Opif. 73; Spec. 1:13–20). They are known to sing and rejoice on appropriate occasions (Job 38:7; Ps 148:3; Bar 3:34; Pr Azar 1:41; Pr Man 1:15) and can even lend their assistance to earthly warfare (Judg 5:20). On the “Day of the Lord” they will not shine (Isa 13:10; Joel 2:10; 3:15). Although most of the texts cited are poetic, nothing in this literature suggests that the depiction of the stars as living creatures is mere metaphor (Cooley 2011; pace Clements 2013: 76). This is not to suggest that stars were thought to be the same entities as angels. The Hebrew (‫מלאך‬, mlʾk) and Greek (ἄγγελος, angelos) words commonly translated “angel,” more specifically denote a messenger. Since stars do not communicate directly with humans, this basic meaning does not apply to them. The heavenly hosts may bear witness to the glory of God, but in so doing “their voices are not heard” (Ps 19:1–3). Unlike in Mesopotamia, there is no evidence for the practice of celestial divination in ancient Israel, and astrology does not appear in Jewish texts until late in the Hellenistic period (Cooley 2012). The regularity of the movements of the stars was taken as evidence of their obedience to Yahweh, but exceptions were noted. That stars could sin (at least theoretically) is implied in Job 25:5 (the stars are not pure in God’s sight) and Job 38:31–32 (Yahweh binds and loosens the constellations with chains). In Isaiah 24:21 and Ezekiel 32:7 Yahweh punishes in tandem the hosts of the heavens and the kings of the earth. The “morning star” (i.e. Venus) goes its own way without regard to the movements of the other stars, which may explain its appropriation as a symbol for a rebellious king (Isa 14:12). It would appear that the close relationship posited between stars and kings (Num 24:17; Matt 2:2) could not leave the purity of the former utterly untouched by the moral defects of the latter. There is also the matter of “shooting stars” (meteors), easily interpreted as apostates among the heavenly hosts, either rebelling of their own choice or being ejected from their places. In the Enoch literature these disobedient stars symbolize fallen angels (1 En. 18:13–15; 21:1–6; 80:6; 86:1–6; 87:4; 88:1–3: 90:21, 24), symbolism which carries through into the New Testament (Luke 10:18; Jude 13; Rev 12:4).

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At times the Israelites engaged in worship of the starry hosts (2 Kgs 17:16; 21:3: Jer 8:2; Amos 5:26), much to the consternation of the prophets (Jer 19:13; Zeph 1:5) and reformers like king Josiah (2 Kgs 23:4–5; cf. Deut 17:3–6). In light of the dominant narrative, one supposes that for the most part the stars were properly horrified by this behavior (if indeed they were aware of it at all), but at least in the latter part of the Second Temple period it was conceivable that some stars wickedly encouraged such behavior (1 En. 18:14–19:2; 80:6–7).

Bibliography R. E. Clements, “‫ כֹּוכָב‬kôkāb,” TDOT 7 (2013): 75–85. J. L. Cooley, “Astral Religion in Ugarit and Ancient Israel,” JNES 70.2 (2011): 281–87. J. L. Cooley, “Celestial Divination in Ugarit and Ancient Israel; A Reassessment,” JNES 71.1 (2012): 21–30. DANIEL OLSON

Related entries: Angels; Astronomy and Astrology; Calendars; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Heaven; Kingship in Ancient Israel; Messianism; Sun and Moon.

Stone Vessels Stone implements belong to human culture from the very beginning (Stone Age) and are the main surviving artifacts before the use of metal and clay. Around the 7th millennium bce, clay vessels largely replaced stone vessels, although the latter continued to be used for luxury items and as special tools (mortars, pestles etc.) and equipment. In this usage of stone equipment, the ancient Israelites showed no difference from their neighboring cultures. However, a distinct type of stone vessels made mainly of white chalk (limestone) appeared during the reign of Herod (37–4 bce), and is found mainly in archaeological excavations in areas with a concentration of Jews. The passing remark in John 2:6 about “six stone water jars according to the purification (customs) of the Jews” is the earliest written testimony of such vessels and the designation as hydria (ὑδρία) indicates—among possible other uses—a function as a water container. Together with Jewish ritual baths (miqva’ot), stone vessels became one of the most important factors aiding the understanding of religiously motivated purity during the last century of the Second Temple period (Adler 2016). They are also of central importance to the question of how far religious identity can be discerned from material culture (Miller 2015: 153–83). After the destruction of Jerusalem and the Jerusalem Temple (70 ce), the repertoire and production of stone vessels declined and ceased entirely in Jerusalem and Judea by the time of Bar Kokhba (132–136 ce; Magen 2002: 162). More recent research shows a limited continuation in Galilee until the 4th century has been discussed (Amit and Adler 2010: 139–42) and more recently dismissed (Adler 2017). The production process of the vessels, which is well documented through a number of excavated production sites and workshops, can be used to divide them into three major types: hand-carved, small lathe-turned vessels, and large lathe-turned vessels (Magen 2002: 1–3, 116–131). The variety of vessels is impressive: hand-carved vessels (Figure 4.138) include mugs ([1]; often wrongly labeled “measuring cups”), pitchers [2], various-sized bowls [3, 4], basins, even a proper tea-cup [5], lids, trays, oil lamps, and parts of tables. Among small lathe-turned vessels (Figure 4.139), the most common are different sized bowls [6, 7, 8], 757

Stone Vessels

Figure 4.138  Hand-carved vessels.

Figure 4.139  Small lathe-turned vessels.

Figure 4.140  Large lathe-turned vessels.

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cups, lids, stoppers [9] (used to seal jugs and bottles), and an inkwell (10). The large latheturned vessels (Figure 4.140) are mainly barrel-shaped kraters or jars (the qll [‫ ]קלל‬mentioned in rabbinic texts, e.g. m. Parah 3.3, refers most likely to this type) with a trumpet base [11, 12], and more rarely slightly smaller holemouth jars and large round trays. The largest jars have a volume of about 80 litres, which comes close to the amount mentioned in John 2:6 (Deines 1993: 28–29). The rationale for the sudden and widespread use of stone vessels is debated. Since they have no apparent technical or aesthetic advantage over other materials, it is unlikely that they were simply fashionable or functioned as decorative luxury items (pace Gibson 2003: 304). The majority of scholars (Deines 1993: 17–18; Magen 2002: 138; Magness 2011: 74; Adler 2016: 245–48) assume that they were used because, according to rabbinic halakah, vessels made of stone are not subject to ritual impurity (cf. Sipre, Matot 157; b. Ŝabb. 58a; b. Menaḥ. 69b; cf. m. Miqw. 4.1; m. ‘Ohal. 6.1; t. Kelim [BQ] 6,5; [BM] 7,4; Deines 1993: 196–200; Magen 2002: 138–47). Although only attested in halakic texts from the 3rd century ce or later, this rule must have been introduced no later than the time of Herod, when stone vessels became popular. This correlation between the early archaeological and later rabbinic evidence contributes to the debate about the validity of utilizing rabbinic sources for knowledge of Second Temple Judaism. These sources describe stone vessels in relation to certain sacrifices and offerings in the Temple in Jerusalem (e.g. m. Parah 3.2–3; t. Parah 3.4; t. Zebaḥ. 10.12; b. Yoma 2a) and in relation to purity concerns in domestic settings, presupposing them as ordinary household items (e.g. m. Parah 5:5, 8; t. Parah 12.11; m. ‘Ohal. 5.5; t. ‘Ohal. 11,9; t. Šabb. 13,17; m. Beṣah 2.3; b. Beṣah 18b; m. Yad. 1.2). Nothing stored within them could become impure, as long as the vessel was properly sealed, even when the vessel came into contact with a source of impurity such as larger body parts of dead insects. The geographical distribution pattern of the find spots supports the literary sources: a large amount were found in Jerusalem and in proximity to the Temple, but stone vessels—and therefore everyday purity concerns—were not restricted to these areas or to the priestly families (Adler 2016). They were distributed through all socioeconomic levels of Jewish society; further, stone vessels have been found not only in cities and small villages but also in isolated farmsteads throughout Jewish-populated areas in Israel. This widespread distribution, combined with their rather sudden appearance in the 1st century bce together with ritual baths, ossuaries, and synagogues, led to the—contested—argument that their spread ought to be seen in accordance with the growing influence of the Pharisees and their interest in the everyday purity of all Israelites (esp. Deines 1993: 1–23, 278–83; against attributing to a single group Gibson 2003: 302; Adler 2016: 242). The archaeological finds point toward a pronounced change in the way Jews in the land of Israel practiced their everyday religion, and the only new group with a comparable religious profile around this time was the Pharisees, whose halakic traditions are preserved—amongst others—in the rabbinic corpus.

Bibliography Y. Adler, “Between Priestly Cult and Common Culture: The Material Evidence of Ritual Purity Observance in Early Roman Jerusalem Reassessed,” JAJ 7 (2016): 228–48. Y. Adler, “The Decline of Jewish Ritual Purity Observance in Roman Palestina: An Archaeological Perspective on Chronology and Historical Context,” in Expressions of Cult in the Southern Levant

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in the Greco-Roman Period, ed. Oren Tal and Zeev Weiss, Contextualizing the Sacred 6 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), 269–84. D. Amit and Y. Adler, “The Observance of Ritual Purity after 70 C.E.: A Reevaluation of the Evidence in Light of Recent Archaeological Discoveries,” in “Follow the Wise:” Studies in Jewish History and Culture in Honor of Lee I. Levine, eds. Z. Weiss et al. (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2010), 121–43. R. Deines, Jüdische Steingefäße und pharisäische Frömmigkeit: Ein archäologisch-historischer Beitrag zum Verständnis von John 2,6 und der jüdischen Reinheitshalacha zur Zeit Jesu, WUNT 2.52 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993). S. Gibson, “Stone Vessels of the Early Roman Period from Jerusalem and Palestine: A Reassessment,” in One Land—Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honour of Stanislao Loffreda OFM, ed. G. Claudio Bottini, L. Di Segni and L. D. Chrupcala, SBF.CMa 41 (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 2003), 287–308. J. Magness, Stone and Dung, Oil and Spit: Jewish Daily Life in the Time of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011). ROLAND DEINES

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Holiness; John, Gospel of; Pottery; Purification and Purity; Revolt, Second Jewish; Sages; Wealth and Poverty.

Strabo Strabo of Amaseia (before 60 bce–after 23 ce) is the author of two major works: the Geographica in 17 books and the Historica Hypomnemata in 47 books (the first four books were the so-called prokataskeué or preliminary expose, written before the Geographca) (BNJ 91 frag. 1). The Historica Hypomnemata was intended to be the continuation of Polybius of Megalopolis’ work and covered the events from 146 bce to Augustus’ principate (27 or 23 bce). Strabo speaks of Jews and Judaism; more than half of the fragments (twelve out of 20) of the Historica Hypomnemata are transmitted by Flavius Josephus: eleven in books 13, 14 and 15 of the Jewish Antiquities (frags. 4, 6, 7, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18), and one (frag. 10) from Against Apion. Three are transmitted by Plutarch (frags. 8, 9, 19), one by Tertullian (frag. 5), and one from a papyrus fragment (frag. 20: attribution is not certain). Strabo in the Historica Hypomnemata considers the Jewish history between 170 bce and 37 bce and in the extant fragments reports the following events: the plundering of the Jerusalem Temple by Antiochus IV in 170 bce (frag. 10); the dynastic conflict between Cleopatra III and her son Ptolemy Latyrus in 108/07 bce, when Cleopatra’s armies were led by two Jewish commanders, Chelchias and Ananias (frag. 4); the great wealth of the Temple of Jerusalem in the time of Mithridates VI in 88 bce (frag. 6); short references to the campaigns of Pompey and Gabinius in Judea, and the fall of Jerusalem in 63 bce (frags. 13, 14, 15); a short presentation of Aristobulus I (frag. 11: Strabo’s source was Timagenes); the help given by Hyrcanus to Caesar when he was under siege in Alexandria in 47 bce (frag. 16: Strabo’s source was Asinius Pollio) and by Mithridates of Pergamon (frag. 17: Strabo’s source was Hypsicrates); the spread of the Jews in Cyrene, Egypt, and throughout the inhabited world (frag. 7); the settlement of Herod on the throne of Judea by Antonius in 37 bce (frag. 18). In book 16 of Geographica (GLAJJ 109–120) the most important passages are the description of Judea along the coast and its western boundaries in the period between Pompey and Herod (GLAJJ 114–115), the Dead Sea (GLAJJ 115), and the Egyptian origins of Moses and his work as legislator (GLAJJ 115). 760

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For Strabo Judea was only one of the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire. Sometimes he draws his information from other historians (frags. 11, 16, 17) and shares their judgment and chronological order, thus committing some historical mistakes (GLAJJ 115). Strabo’s attitude toward Jews and Judaism is heterogeneous: Moses, like a mythical Greek legislator, is described as a wise prophet who fights against idolatry to establish a monotheistic cult. Jewish history after Moses is marked by a progressive decline that culminates in the decadence of priesthood and in the tyrannical policy adopted during the Hasmonean age; nevertheless, the attitude toward the Hasmoneans is not always hostile. Finally, according to Strabo, Judaism was a cult with which superstitious practices were associated.

Bibliography D. Ambaglio, “Gli Historikà Hypomnemata di Strabone. Introduzione, traduzione italiana e commento dei frammenti,” MIL (1990): 377–424. J. Engels, Augusteische Oikumenegeographie und Universaltheorie im Werk Strabons von Amaseia (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999). A. Galimberti, “Josephus and Strabo: the Reasons of a Choice,” in Making History. Josephus and Historical Method, ed. Z. Rodgers, JSJSup 110 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 147–67. L. Prandi, Ipotesi sugli Historikà Hypomnemata, Aevum 62 (1988), 50–60. D.W. Roller, Strabo of Amaseia (91), Brill’s New Jacoby, ed. I. Worthington (University of Missouri: first appeared online 2008). ALESSANDRO GALIMBERTI

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Hasmonean Dynasty; Josephus, Writings of.

Suetonius Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus was a Roman scholar active from the 90s to the 120s ce. A list of his lost works, now known only by their titles, reveals a profoundly curious essayist who treated matters ranging from grammar and nomenclature to famous courtesans. His lasting impact as a literary figure and historical source comes from his biographical work, including his literary biographies Lives of Illustrious Men on grammarians, rhetoricians, poets, and a few others (including a brief note on Pliny the Elder, his patron’s uncle). Suetonius’ regular appearances in Pliny the Younger’s letters show that Pliny encouraged Suetonius’ literary activity and boosted his public profile as a pleader in the courts and holder of significant military and administrative posts in the imperial bureaucracy (Wallace-Hadrill 1983). As a loyal ally of Emperor Trajan (reigned 98–117 ce) and a well-connected man of letters, Pliny (Ep. 10.94) convinced Trajan to give special privileges to Suetonius. Under Trajan’s successor Hadrian (reigned 117–138), Suetonius rose to become the chief secretary handling imperial correspondence. The dubious Historia Augusta claims Hadrian (11) abruptly dismissed Suetonius because the biographer acted too familiarly toward the emperor’s wife. Suetonius’ access to imperial archives may have enriched his magnum opus, The Twelve Caesars. This series of imperial biographies starts with Julius Caesar (d. 44 bce) and his grandnephew Octavian Augustus (the first emperor or princeps, d. 14 ce) and covers every successive holder of power down to the last Flavian emperor, Domitian (d. 96 ce). Suetonius applied a loosely programmatic organization, giving illustrative anecdotes on set topics, such as each

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emperor’s family, education, speaking style, approach to justice, appearance, sexual and dining habits, military experience, religious attitudes, and death. As an equestrian-class biographer, Suetonius was innocent of the anger and partisanship that mars the senatorial historians such as Tacitus. Suetonius’ lives are not devoid of moralizing or editorializing, yet he came as close as any Latin author to writing evenhandedly on fraught subjects. The Twelve Caesars offers a treasure trove of details on imperial decision-making and wide-ranging reflections of upper-class attitudes. As such, Suetonius is an important source for understanding the historical backdrop of Second Temple Judaism. For instance, Suetonius testified to Julius Caesar’s strong Jewish support (84), Augustus’ curiosity about Jewish habits (76) and apparent distaste toward Herodian Jerusalem (93); he also noted Rome’s occasional expulsions of Jews (Tib. 36, Claud. 25; cf. Acts 18:2). In a rare and memorable personal anecdote, Suetonius mentioned witnessing in his youth how rapaciously Domitian (12) collected the fiscus Judaicus tax on Jews. Indeed, Suetonius’ biographies of Nero, Galba, Otho, Vitellius, Titus, and Domitian relate valuable details on the wars that destroyed Jerusalem in 70 ce and ushered in a dynasty (the Flavians) that commemorated and aggravated antagonism between Jews and Romans, which in turn furthered Jewish-gentile tensions into the early 2nd century ce.

Bibliography A. Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius: The Scholar and His Caesars (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983). CHRISTOPHER J. FUHRMANN

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Roman Emperors; Tacitus; Tribute and Taxes.

Suffering Servant Although the “Suffering Servant” remains a staple of modern biblical scholarship, it is doubtful that the concept is meaningful for Second Temple Judaism, for no indubitable servant figure is to be found. Duhm (1922) first identified the “servant songs” of Second Isaiah in 1892, finding them in Isaiah 42:1–4, 49:1–6, 50:4–10, 52:13–53:12 (xviii, 277–80, 330–34, 341–44, 355–68), and Jeremias codified the concept in 1954 (5.676–713). The Servant as a discrete messianic figure who suffers vicariously and serves as a template for early Christian understanding of Jesus’ person and work are thus most likely a construct of modern Christian biblical theology. The task thus involves examining Second Temple texts to discover whether Jews perceived and presented a servant figure. In the Masoretic Text of Isaiah (which for ancients was a whole coherent work) any servant (‫עבד‬, ʿbd) is often specified: as Isaiah himself (20:3), as Eliakim (22:20), or as Israel/Jacob (41:8–9; 44:1–2; 44:21; 45:4; 48:20; and 49:3). Septuagintal Isaiah often specifies the Masoretic Text’s anonymous ‫( עבד‬ʿbd) as Israel/Jacob (e.g. 42:1) or renders ‫( עבד‬ʿbd) alternately as παῖς (pais, “child”), δοῦλος (doulos, “slave”), or δίκαιος (dikaios, “righteous”), even in the same immediate context (cf., e.g., 49:3, 5, 6; 52:13 and 53:11), and in the fourth so-called servant songs presents no redemptive suffering (again 52:13 and 53:11).

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Indeed, the Lord spares the παῖς (pais), δοῦλος (doulos), δίκαιος (dikaios) from death (53:9–10). Targum Isaiah deems the servant in 52:13 as “messiah” but has the enemies of the servant and Israel suffering in 53:4–5. In Second Temple literature the evidence for the common currency of an established Servant figure is sparse. Ben Sira 11:12–13 may present allusions to Isaiah 52:13–53:12, especially the language of “amazement” (cf. Sir 11:13 and Isa 52:14–15) and the broader concepts of “restoring” and “lifting up” the subjects of whom Sirach speaks, but those subjects are not a specific servant figure but the collective humble needy whose poverty endures in spite of their arduous labor. Ben Sira 48:10 appears to combine Malachi 4:5–6 with Isaiah 59:6 in prophesying Elijah’s task to “restore the tribes of Jacob.” Wisdom of Solomon 2:10–5:13 may appropriate Isaiah 53 and other Isaianic material; 2:13 speaks of a persecuted righteous man calling himself a παῖς (pais) of the Lord. Elsewhere in the section, however, the righteous are a collective entity, and neither vicarious suffering nor messianism are on offer. Among the Dead Sea Scrolls, 1QHa vii 10 and viii 35–36 may allude to Isaiah 50:4, and 1QHa viii 26–27 may echo the language of “infirmity” and “stricken” in Isaiah 53:3–4, though the notion of a vicarious atonement does not occur. 1QS viii 5–7 seems to describe the council of the Qumran community based on vocabulary found in Isaiah 42:1, 3; 43:10, 12; 60:21; and 61:3; however, these allusions bear no messianic overtones. Considerable debate surrounds whether a messianic suffering servant is attested at Qumran (4Q491c = 4Q491c frags. 11—12; 4Q540–541). Hengel (2004: 146) acknowledges the absence of a representative death for sin in these texts but nonetheless posits “we are not entirely without grounds for the hypothesis that already in the pre-Christian period, traditions about suffering and atoning eschatological messianic figures were available in Palestinian Judaism,” which could have been known and used by Jesus and the early church. With particular attention on 4Q541, fragments 9, 24, Collins (2010: 143–45) observes that the priestly figure in view makes atonement, but not by means of his suffering, as his suffering differs from that of Isaiah 53 (4Q541 frag. 9). Moreover, he denies any solid grounds for supposing Isaiah 53 lies behind 4Q541 fragment 24. As a result, for Collins (2010: 145), “There is no reference here to a suffering servant.” The Similitudes of 1 Enoch may envision a coming deliverer figure in the mold of the Isaianic servant (cf. 1 En. 47:1–4), although allusive and conceptual connections are tenuous, and vicarious suffering seems absent in that passage. The terms for this figure—“righteous one,” “elect one,” and “his anointed”—appear throughout and, as such, may draw on various passages of Isaiah. If these terms, along with the title “the Son of Man,” refer to a single figure, they are all applied to Enoch himself when near the end of the text he is explicitly called “the Son of Man” (71:14–17). Both the “righteous one” and the “elect one” are described as a “light to the nations” (1 En. 48:4), perhaps alluding to Isaiah 42:6 and 49:6. In 2 Esdras/4 Ezra God’s son is the messiah (cf. 7:28–29) who reigns with the “survivors” 400 years, after which the messiah and those with him die. Isaianic tradition is not in view, the death of this messiah is in no way vicarious, and he is not vindicated but remains dead. In summary, it is best to say that Jewish tradents drew on the language and concepts of suffering and vindication found in various versions of Second Isaiah available to them for rhetorical and

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theological purposes when opportune, but they did not draw on a discrete servant figure, for neither Isaiah nor the interpretive tradition presents one in any obvious manner.

Bibliography P. N. De Andrado, The Akedah Servant Complex: The Soteriological Linkage of Genesis 22 and Isaiah 53 in Ancient Jewish and Early Christian Writings, CEBT 69 (Leuven: Peeters, 2013). B. Duhm, Das Buch Jesaia, 4th ed. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1922). J. Jeremias, παῖς θεοῦ, TDNT 5 (1967): 654–717. M. Hengel, “The Effective History of Isaiah 53 in the Pre-Christian Period,” in The Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 in Jewish and Christian Sources, ed. B. Jankowski and P. Stuhlmacher (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 75–146. S. Page, “The Suffering Servant between the Testaments,” NTS 31 (1985): 481–97. LEROY A. HUIZENGA

Related entries: Book of Parables (1 Enoch 37–71); Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ezra, Fourth Book of; Isaiah, Book of; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Messianism; Persecution, Religious.

Sun and Moon Genesis refers to the sun and moon as the “greater” and “lesser” lights respectively (1:16). In the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Judaism, both are markers of time and ritual, cult objects, objects of scientific and astrological observation, and they function as literary and artistic motifs. Markers of Time and Ritual.  Calendrical reckoning is complex, with no “obvious” solution for reconciling the movements of the sun and moon. Nevertheless, regular solar and lunar events (equinoxes/solstices; new/full moons) are reflected in the timing of Jewish festivals. An older winter solstice festival may lie behind Hanukkah, and an autumnal equinox tradition behind Sukkot. The new year starts around the vernal equinox, with Passover celebrated just thereafter (cf. Aristob. 1:2–3). Biblical and later writers depict the solar and lunar cycles as manifestations of YHWH’s order (Gen 1; Job 9:7; Ps 74:16; Jer 31:35; T. Naph. 3:2; Aristob. 2:11). Their disorder then becomes a sign of divine judgment (Josh 10:12–13; Isa 13:10; Ezek 32:7; Joel 2:10), so that in the apocalyptic tradition disorder or destruction of sun or moon comes to function as a stock element in depictions of cosmological events (1 En 80:4–5; 4 Ezra 5:4; 7:38–9; Sib. Or. 3.88–9; T. Levi 4:1; Ascen. Isa. 4:5; Rev 22:5). References to the (new) moon often occur in conjunction with discussions of the Sabbath (2 Kgs 4:23; 1 Chr 23:31; 2 Chr 2:4; Neh 10:33; Isa 1:13; 66:23; Ezek 45:17; Hos 2:11; 1 Macc 10:34). Though the Sabbath may have originated as a full moon festival (cf. Ps 81:3), by the Second Temple period it was associated with the seven-day week. The new moon was for many periods an important Judean feast (McAleese 2011). Determination of the new moon was also needed to date other holidays (cf. m. Roš Haš. 1:3; Feldman 2012). Cult.  Solar divinities were widespread in the Ancient Near East (under the names Shamash, Aten, Ra, Hvar, Apollo, Mithras). They were typically associated with justice and divination. Though explicitly banned by Deuteronomy 4:19, some texts suggest that the sun was worshiped

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in monarchic Jerusalem (2 Kgs 23:11; Jer 8:2; Ezek 8:16). In Second Temple Judaism such practices seem to have disappeared. Nevertheless, depictions of the sun riding a chariot still recur (Jos. Asen. 6:5; 3 Bar 6:2; late synagogue mosaics, Hachlili 2009). Lunar divinities are also widespread in the Ancient Near East (variously called Sin, Yareah, Sahr, Thoth, Māh, Men, Selene). Evidence for a lunar cult, which was probably practiced in connection with the worship of other astral divinities (Amos 5:26; Isa 3:18; 2 Kgs 21:5; Day 2000: 163–6), altogether disappears during the Second Temple period. Observation.  Several texts (the Enochic Astronomical Book, 4Q317–21, 4Q321–2, 4Q503) reflect an interest in annual solar and lunar movements, both for their calendrical and mathematical aspects. 4Q503 links prayers to sunrise and lunar phases (Ben Dov 2012: 175). A tradition of three lunar phases is attested in Babylon, at Qumran (4Q320–1; Ben-Dov 2012: 180–1), and in Iran (Yašt 7). Ancient opinions differed on whether the sun or the moon was more important. Genesis 5:23 specifies that Enoch lived 365 years, perhaps due to solar traditions. While Jubilees 6:36 allows only use of the sun for calendrical reckoning, Ben Sira (43:6–8, 50:6) and the Rabbis favored the (new) moon (m. Roš Haš.). Lunar priority follows broader Mesopotamian tradition, in which the moon was the most important of the three “astronomical siblings” (Sun, Moon, and Venus; Horowitz 2012: 9). Isaiah 47:13 associates the new moon with Babylonian divination. In Mesopotamia, lunar eclipses were considered ominous, solar ones less so. Philo, on the other hand, considered both solar and lunar eclipses to be ominous (Prov. frag 2.50). Later, the Rabbis only regarded lunar eclipses as portents of evil (b. Sukkah 29a). Mesopotamian astronomical scholarship was influential, and the varied Judean engagement with it was most likely deepest during periods of Iranian hegemony (Ben-Dov 2008; Sołtysiak 2015; Silverman 2013). Despite such indebtedness, Judean sources preserve no equivalent of the daily records of astronomical phenomena found in Mesopotamian tradition (Sachs and Hunger 1988–2001). Instead, the Enochic Book of Watchers attributes astronomical knowledge to disobedient angelic beings (1 En 8:3), while Pseudo-Eupolemus, more positively, derives astronomical knowledge from both Enoch and Abraham (1:3, 7). Literary and Artistic Depictions.  Biblical and later poetic writings use the sun as a metaphor (e.g. Ps 84:22; Song 6:10; Hab 3:4; Mal 4:2; 1 En 14:20, 106:5; T. Levi 4:3; Odes Sol. 11:13). The sun was also commonly depicted in the Levant as a winged disk on amulets, seals, and scarabs. The moon is most easily identifiable as such when it is depicted as a crescent; a disk could be either the full moon or the sun. Often in Mesopotamian and Persian reliefs, the moon and sun appear together, sometimes with Venus. This pattern continues into later synagogue mosaics (with the Zodiac; Hachlili 2009: 195).

Bibliography J. Ben-Dov, “Lunar Calendars at Qumran? A Comparative and Ideological Study,” in Living the Lunar Calendar, ed. J. Ben-Dov, W. Horowitz, and J. M. Steele (Oxford: Oxbow, 2012), 173–90. J. Day, Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses of Canaan, JSOTSS 265 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000). R. H. Feldman, “Tame and Wild Time in the Qumran and Rabbinic Calendars,” in Living the Lunar Calendar, ed. J. Ben-Dov, W. Horowitz, and J. M. Steele (Oxford: Oxbow, 2012), 191–210. W. Horowitz, “Sunday in Mesopotamia,” in Living the Lunar Calendar, ed. J. Ben-Dov, W. Horowitz, and J. M. Steele (Oxford: Oxbow, 2012), 9–18. 765

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K. McAleese, “Danger at the King’s Table: Insult and Family Conflict at Saul’s New Moon Feast,” in Text, Theology, and Trowel, ed. L. D. Matassa and J. M. Silverman (Eugene: Pickwick, 2011), 24–38. A. J. Sachs and H. Hunger, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia, 5 vols. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1988–2001). J. M. Silverman, “Iranian Details in the Book of Heavenly Luminaries (1 Enoch 72–82),” JNES 72.2 (2013): 195–208. A. Sołtysiak, “Ancient Persian Skywatching and Calendars,” in Handbook of Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy, ed. C. L. N. Ruggles (New York: Springer Reference, 2015), 1902–6. JASON M. SILVERMAN

Related entries: Astronomy and Astrology; Babylon, Babylonia, Babylonians; Calendars; Festivals and Holy Days; Genesis, Book of; Seals and Seal Impressions; Stars.

Synagogues The Jewish institutions referred to in English as “synagogues” were vital to the organization of Second Temple Jewish society both in the land of Israel and in the Diaspora. They also provided an important matrix for local Jewish identity formation, offering historians a key to understanding the institutional dynamics involved as various Jewish groups, including the Jesus movement, interacted and two world religions, Judaism and Christianity, were born. Evidenced in literary texts, inscriptions, papyri, and archaeological remains, “synagogue” institutions are found around the turn of the era throughout the Mediterranean world and beyond: from Italy in the west to Syria and Mesopotamia in the east; from Hungary, Ukraine, and Russia in the north, to Cyrenaica and Egypt in the south (Runesson, Binder, and Olsson, 2008 [ASSB]). But what exactly a “synagogue” was at this time requires clarification. The common assumption among scholars in the past that “the ancient synagogue” was a homogenous institution across the ancient world, untouched by its geographical and sociopolitical context, is no longer possible. Terminology and Definition.  Sources from around the turn of the era use 17 Greek, five Hebrew, and three Latin terms, with some overlap, to refer to what is translated into English with the single word “synagogue.” The most common of these terms were synagōgē (συναγωγή), proseuchē (προσευχή), and ekklēsia (ἐκκλησία). These 25 terms were used interchangeably to designate not one but two types of institutions: a public, civic type, originating in Persian period Yehud, on the one hand, and, on the other, a type resembling the small face-to-face groups in Greco-Roman societies usually called associations, emerging in the Hellenistic period (Runesson 2001). Public Synagogues Activities.  The civic institutional type of synagogues functioned as administrative “municipal” centers in towns and villages in the land of Israel (Binder 1999; Levine 2005). They were settings for court proceedings and the loci of civic archives. It is possible that slaves could have been manumitted in this context, although direct evidence for this practice exists only from the Diaspora (e.g. CIRB 70/ASSB no. 124). The situation is similar with regard to this institution’s function as a treasury (Binder 1999). The activity mentioned most frequently in the first century as central to public synagogues is the reading and teaching of law (Torah) on Sabbaths. The evidence for communal prayer, however, is slim for this time period, although not entirely absent. Prayer could be part of liturgies on days other than the Sabbath, for special 766

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reasons such as public fasts (Josephus, Life 295). People could also use public synagogue buildings for their individual prayers at any time (Matt 6:5). There is some archaeological evidence of miqva’oth (ritual baths) built adjacent to synagogue buildings, such as in the case of Gamla (see Figure 4.141). While several scholars have suggested that this implies that ritual practices were associated with activities taking place within public synagogue buildings, it is more likely that such installations are not functionally related to the synagogues, but were located there since this was regarded as public space (Haber 2008). There is, however, in some buildings such as the Gamla synagogue, evidence of smaller water basins, which may have been used for ritual washings of hands. If so, such washings could have been related to the handling of holy texts, as suggested by later rabbinic writings (cf. also Letter of Aristeas 305–306; Josephus, Ant. 12.106). Finally, it is possible, but difficult to prove, that the teaching of children (as required by law according to Josephus Ag. Ap. 2.204) took place in these institutions. Leadership and Membership.  Contrary to popular belief, the Pharisees had no leading roles in public synagogues, neither before nor after 70 ce (Levine 2005). Rather, these institutions were run by local administrative officers such as the archisynagōgos (“ruler of the synagogue,” ἀρχισυνάγωγος, Mark 5:22), archōn (“ruler,” ἄρχων, Josephus, Life 278, 294; Ant. 4.214; Matt 9:18), hypēretēs (Hebrew: ḥazzan [‫“ = ]חזן‬attendant,” ὑπηρέτης, Luke 4:20), grammateus (“scribe,” γραμματεύς, Mark 1:21–22), presbyteros (“elder,” πρεσβύτερος, evidenced primarily in relation to an association: CIJ 2.1404/ASSB no. 26; but cf. Luke 7:3–5), and perhaps dynatos (δυνατός, Josephus, J.W. book 2. 287, 292). In addition, several of the people involved in synagogues were priests. What exactly is implied by these titles is debated. It seems clear, though, that scribes had special responsibilities related to Torah and the public reading and teaching of law. Any of the individuals holding an office in synagogues could have sympathized with Pharisaic interpretations of Jewish traditions, of course, or with the Jesus movement (cf. Matt 13:52). But the Pharisees, as a group, had no formal part to play in public synagogues. Membership consisted of the local population in a given town or village, both men and women. There is no evidence for either the exclusion of women or any form of partitions between men and women during gatherings. Art and Architecture.  Spatially, public synagogues contained a main hall with stepped benches lining three or four walls, with columns placed between the benches and the empty space in the middle, the latter being the focal point of the room. This architectural form is reminiscent of political space as expressed in the bouleutēria (βουλευτήρια, e.g., the old bouleutērion [βουλευτήριον] in Athens; Kostof 1995) and the ekklēsiastēria (ἐκκλησιαστήρια, Yadin 1981; Ma’oz 1981). The design of such halls suggests that the activities taking place in this space were focused on exchange of information, discussion, and debate, matching well what is known from literary sources about synagogue activities, especially with regard to public reading and teaching of law. The focus of activities associated with synagogues was, thus, on those gathered rather than beyond them, as in the case of the Greek and Roman temple with its altar and cella, or shrine (for temple architecture, see Spawforth 2006). In addition to a main hall, public synagogue buildings often included an adjacent smaller room, which sometimes contained (stepped) benches along the walls (as in Gamla [Figure 4.142] and Magdala). It is possible, perhaps even likely, that these additional rooms were used 767

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Figure 4.141  Reconstruction of the Gamla synagogue, looking east.

Figure 4.142  The Gamla synagogue, looking southwest.

for teaching purposes. In this regard, one may note the discovery in the smaller room in the Magdala synagogue of a unique stone “table” with two grooves on either side of its top surface, placed within a stone frame facing stepped benches (Figure 4.143). While the function of this stone is difficult to determine, it may be that it was used as a table upon which scrolls were 768

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Figure 4.143  The so-called “reading stone” in the smaller room in the Magdala synagogue, looking east. The more famous so-called “Temple stone” is visible in the background in the main hall.

Figure 4.144  Aerial view of the Magdala Synagogue.

placed, perhaps for teaching purposes, as suggested by its location in relation to the stepped benches (Runesson 2017b). This “reading stone” should not be confused with the more wellknown and richly decorated stone discovered in the main hall, which displays images related to the Jerusalem Temple. 769

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Contrary to late-antique synagogues, 1st-century synagogues did not contain figurative art. With the exception of the Magdala “temple stone” (see Figures 4.143 and 4.144). Jewish symbols frequently found in later synagogues, such as the menorah, have not been discovered in synagogues from around the turn of the era (Levine 2012). Jewish Associations.  Jewish association synagogues existed both in Palestine (CIJ 2.1404/ASSB no. 26) and in the Diaspora (Josephus, Ant. 14.256–258/ASSB no. 109). They served the interests of specific Jewish groups, such as the essenes, whose institution Philo calls synagō gē (συναγωγή) and describes as a sacred place (Prob. 80–83/ASSB no. 40; cf. Acts 6:9), or of Jewish inhabitants more generally at a given location in the Diaspora. Classifying non-civic synagogues as associations (Harland 2003; Ascough 2015) means that scholars must reckon with some diversity between these institutions in terms of their form, function, and membership. Such diversity was dependent on the network the association served. For example, a guild of Jewish weavers could be called a “synagogue,” and rabbinic literature speaks of “the mine workers synagogue” in Lydda (Lod; Leviticus Rabbah 35.12). In the Tosefta (Sukkah 4.6) “the great synagogue” in Alexandria is described, noting that in this building, a huge basilica-like structure, people sat according to their occupation, which helped newcomers to identify people in the same trade, enabling them to find ways of making a living. But associations could also draw more exclusively on ethnic identity and cult connections, or the network provided by a neighborhood. Thus, for centuries, in Jewish settings “synagogue” could refer to Jewish associations centered on ethnic, cultic, and neighborhood connections as well as those drawing membership from occupational networks. Since cult was a common element in all Greco-Roman associations, all varieties of Jewish associations would involve some form of worship of the God of Israel (Runesson 2017). Activities.  Based on the diversity implied by the nature of the different (Jewish) networks served by Jewish associations, it is clear that activities taking place in association synagogues varied accordingly; occupational guilds would have needs that differed from those of a neighborhood association. Common to all, however, as emphasized by both Philo and Josephus, was worship of the God of Israel, which took the form of reading and expounding Torah on Sabbaths. Philo notes that among the Essenes, one person read from scripture and another person, “of especial proficiency,” expounded what had been read (Prob. 82; cf. Spec. 2.62). Archaeological remains and literary texts suggest that communal meals also took place in these association synagogues, just as was the custom of other Greco-Roman associations. Of special interest is the mention of “prayers and sacrifices” in relation to some Diaspora synagogues (e.g. Josephus, Ant. 14.259/ASSB no. 113), the sacred nature of such places (CIJ 2.1433, 1449/ASSB nos. 143, 171), and the use of water, likely for ritual purification (ASSB no. 149). Taken together the evidence suggests that in several cases, association synagogues were regarded as Temple-like, requiring ritual purity in relation to activities taking place within them. Lawsuits could be dealt with within the Jewish community (Josephus, Ant. 14.259–261; ASSB no. 113; cf. Acts 18:14–16), and there is evidence from Egypt that proseuchai were given asylum status just like other Egyptian temples (CIJ 2.1449/ASSB no. 171). Leadership and Membership.  Jewish associations, in all their diversity, had, just as the civic institutions and most likely imitating them, a range of titles for offices connected to the institution (see above, and cf., e.g., CIJ 2.1404; ASSB no. 26). While specific groups, such as the Essenes,

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the Jesus movement, and the Pharisees, ran their own associations and had their own leadership structures, other types of Diaspora associations were not related to a specific movement or group. Membership was mixed and both men and women—and children—are explicitly mentioned as participants in “sacred rituals” in accordance with Jewish law (e.g. Josephus, Ant. 14.256– 258/ASSB no. 109; Ant. 14.259–261/ASSB no. 113). Art and Architecture.  While public synagogues were designed with a main hall and a smaller adjacent room, Jewish associations often required a complex with several rooms, similar to other Greco-Roman associations (Richardson 2004; cf. CIJ 2.1404/ASSB no. 26), but could also gather in various kinds of architecture, including renovated private space. The latter is evidenced in Stobi (CIJ 1.694/ASSB no. 187), Dura-Europos (ASSB no. 189), and Capernaum, if one interprets the 1stcentury remains under the 5th-century octagonal church there as a meeting place of an association of Jewish believers in Jesus (Runesson 2007). The earliest evidence of figurative art is found in the Dura-Europos synagogue in its 3rd-century phase. Earlier association synagogue buildings were, as far as the archaeological remains suggests, decorated with simple patterns, avoiding depictions of living creatures (cf. the second phase of the Ostia synagogue; ASSB no. 179). Summary.  Analyzing the nature, origin, social location, and meaning of “synagogues” in antiquity requires that one keep in mind not only that institutions designated by synagogue terms could be of two basic types, civic institutions or voluntary associations, but also, in the latter case, that membership and activities could vary based on the network providing the incentive for the formation of the association. Being Jewish was one criterion for membership in such settings, but it was not the only one. Indeed, there is evidence of non-Jews also being members, perhaps because their interests aligned with these other non-ethnic criteria. With regard to the birth of what became Judaism and Christianity, one may note that while Jesus proclaimed his program in the public civic institutions of the land (Ryan 2017), the Jesus movement spread primarily through various types of (Jewish and non-Jewish) associations throughout the Diaspora. Rabbinic Judaism, too, rose to prominence in similar but distinct association-like institutional contexts, although, contrary to the Jesus movement and what seems to have been Pharisaic praxis, the early rabbis were not interested in interacting in public synagogue settings and thus cannot trace their origins back to these civic institutions.

Bibliography R. Ascough, “Paul, Synagogues, and Associations: Reframing the Question of Models for Pauline Christ Groups,” JJMJS (2015): 27–52. S. Haber, “They shall Purify Themselves”: Essays on Purity in Early Judaism, ed. A. Reinhartz (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008). S. Kostof, A History of Architecture: Settings and Rituals, Second edition; Revised by G. Castillo (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995). L. I. Levine, Visual Judaism in Late Antiquity: Historical Contexts of Jewish Art (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012). Z. Ma’oz, “The Synagogue of Gamla and the Typology of Second-Temple Synagogues,” in Ancient Synagogues Revealed, ed. L. I. Levine (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1981), 35–41. A. Runesson, “Architecture, Conflict, and Identity Formation: Jews and Christians in Capernaum From the 1st to the 6th Century,” in Religion, Ethnicity, and Identity in Ancient Galilee: A Region in Transition, ed. J. Zangenberg, H. W. Attridge and D. Martin, WUNT 210 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 231–57. 771

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A. Runesson, “Jewish and Christian Interaction From the First to the Fifth Centuries,” in The Early Christian World, ed. P. Esler, 2nd ed. (London: Routledge, 2017), 244–64. A. Runesson, “Synagogues Without Rabbis or Christians? Ancient Institutions Beyond Normative Discourses,” Journal of Beliefs and Values: Studies in Religion and Education 38.2 (2017): 159–72. A. Runesson, The Origins of the Synagogue: A Socio-Historical Study (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2001). J. Ryan, The Role of the Synagogue in the Aims of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017). T. Spawforth, The Complete Greek Temples (London: Thames & Hudson, 2006). Y. Yadin, “The Synagogue at Masada,” Ancient Synagogues Revealed. Ed. L. I. Levine (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1981), 19–23. ANDERS RUNESSON

Related entries: Associations; Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Education; Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; Josephus, Writings of; Literacy and Reading; Masada, Archaeology of; Matthew, Gospel of; Sacrifices and Offerings; Sages.

Syria Syria’s role in Jewish history in the Greco-Roman period is often reduced in ancient sources and modern scholarship to being an epicenter of imperial rule and a source of intervention in the affairs of Judea. While partially warranted, the situation was more complicated: the geopolitical boundaries between Judea and Syria were more fluid, ethnoreligious interactions between Jews and Syrians more harmonious, and local identities more diverse than it might seem. Syria refers to an ill-defined territory in the Levant with a history of settlement stretching back millennia. Geographically, it consists of a coastal region with mountains behind it, a northsouth valley east of that, and the eastern steppe and desert (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). Syria was part of the Persian Empire prior to its conquest by Alexander the Great in 332 bce. After Alexander’s death and a series of wars among his “successors,” the Ptolemies took control of the southern parts of Syria (including Palestine) and the Seleucids controlled the northern parts, eventually establishing their capital at Antioch. The Rainer papyrus (SB 8008) and Zenon papyri from the mid-3rd century bce indicate that the Ptolemaic kingdom settled military veterans in parts of its province of “Syria and Phoenicia” and administered the province as a series of districts. Westermann (1938) has argued that the Rainer papyrus (261/60 bce), a decree requiring settlers to register their Syrian prisoners, probably served years later as the model for Ptolemy II’s decree about releasing the Jewish prisoners in “Syria and Phoenicia” in Letter of Aristeas 21–27. Pseudo-Hecataeus advances a rosier portrait of the original Ptolemaic occupation of Syria, remarking that many in Syria were so impressed by Ptolemy’s benevolence that they migrated to Egypt (Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.186), thereby supplying a positive etiology for the Jewish community of Egypt. The author of 3 Maccabees is more ambivalent about Ptolemaic control of “Coele-Syria and Phoenicia” (an anachronism), lampooning Ptolemy IV’s attempt to enter the Jerusalem Temple after defeating the Seleucids at Raphia in 217 bce (3 Macc 1:9–10; 3:15). In 198 bce, the Seleucids succeeded at wresting control of the southern regions from the Ptolemies. Their official Seleucid name became “Coele-Syria and Phoenicia,” referring to the valley (koilon) between the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon ranges, and distinguishing this province from the northern “Seleucis Syria.” A stele (SEG 57.1838) from 178 bce demonstrates that Seleucus IV appointed Olympiodorus as provincial high priest in “Coele-Syria and Phoenicia.” 772

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Heliodorus, the chief officer of the Seleucid king who attempts to rob the Jerusalem Temple in 2 Maccabees 3 (cf. Dan 11:20; 4 Macc 3:19–4:14), is a cipher for Olympiodorus (Honigman 2014). Textual representations aside, historians debate whether taxation, religious oppression, or other forms of Seleucid hegemony provoked the Maccabean revolt. It is probable that the Seleucids collaborated with certain Jewish elites to establish a politeia of “Antiochenes” in Jerusalem complete with a gymnastic order, but it is unlikely that they tried to make all Syrians “one people” (2 Macc 1:41), eradicating diversity (Andrade 2013). After the Hasmoneans gained independence from the Seleucids, the region of Palestine was still heavily influenced by Seleucid Syria. In concert with the Hasmonean expansion northward, strong trade networks developed between the Hasmonean realm and Syrian cities of Ptolemais and Tyre. Coins, tableware, and other items that originated in Syria and Phoenicia became increasingly pervasive in Palestine in the late Hasmonean and Roman periods (Berlin 1997). The Roman Republic incorporated Syria as a proconsular province in 64 bce, and the Hasmonean kingdom was annexed to it the following year. Judea was then detached from Syria when Herod was made client-king, but ties persisted between Herod’s kingdom and Syria. Herod was the benefactor of many public buildings in Syria and Phoenicia and influenced the continued operation of the Tyrian mint as Syria’s chief financial minister (J.W. 1.399). Following Herod’s death, there were popular revolts in Jerusalem that the Syrian legate Varus quashed, crucifying many and burning part of the Temple (cf. T. Mos. 6:8–9). When Archelaus was ousted as ruler of the territory of Judea in 6 ce, this region of Herod’s kingdom was annexed to Syria. Like the Decapolis, Judea was governed by a prefect who was subordinate to the Syrian governor (Isaac 1998). Annexation made Judea subject to Roman censuses and tributes, which were first levied by the Syrian governor Quirinius (Ant. 17.355– 18:4; J.W. 2.117–118; Luke 2:1–6; CIL 3.6687), causing unrest. By the time the components of Herod’s kingdom began to be incorporated into the imperial province of Syria, there were already established Jewish communities in Syria functioning like ethnic voluntary associations. Jews generally adapted well to their Greco-Roman-Syrian environment, and there were also a number of God-fearers in Syria (Hengel and Schwemer 1997). While early (Galilean) Jesus traditions preserve condemnations of Tyre and Sidon (Matt 11:20–24 // Luke 10:12–16), the Gospels and Acts depict Jesus and the apostles performing healings and spreading the gospel in Syria (e.g. Matt 4:24; Acts 11:19). Additionally, though Paul was from the province of Cilicia, he began his missionary activity in Damascus (Gal 1:17; Acts 9) and spent considerable time in Syria. Notable exceptions to this concord include skirmishes in Antioch under Caligula (39/40 ce) and in the aftermath of the First Revolt, when Jews in Syrian cities were allegedly massacred in large numbers (J.W. 7.368). Tensions may have abated by the second century, since there is no trace of the involvement of Syrian Jews in the diaspora revolt (115–117 ce). Even during the Second Revolt, which the Syrian governor Publicius Marcellus helped to quell, there is no record of enmity between Jews and their neighbors in Syria (Mor 2003). In fact, it appears that Syria became a place of refuge for Jews during and after this revolt (Roth-Gerson 2001). Syria and Judea were combined as the Roman province of “Syria Palaestina” in 135 ce. While Judea suffered consequences from the revolts (Eck 2014), Jews in the north fared better. Epigraphic and archaeological remains, especially from Dura-Europos, divulge that Jews thrived among their co-religionists in Syria into the high Roman Empire (Roth-Gerson 2001; Noy and 773

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Bloedhorn 2004), contributing variations of their ancestral customs to the vibrant and diverse ethnic and religious milieu of Roman Syria.

Bibliography N. J. Andrade, Syrian Identity in the Greco-Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). A. M. Berlin, “Between Large Forces: Palestine in the Hellenistic Period.” BA 60 (1997): 2–51. W. Eck, Judäa—Syria Palästina, TSAJ 157 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). B. H. Isaac, “The Decapolis in Syria: A Neglected Inscription,” in The Near East under Roman Rule ed. B.H. Isaac, Mnemosyne Supplements 177 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 313–21. M. Mor, “The Geographical Scope of the Bar-Kokhba Revolt,” in The Bar Kokhba War Reconsidered, ed. P. Schäfer, TSAJ 100 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 107–32. L. Roth-Gerson, The Jews of Syria as Reflected in the Greek Inscriptions (Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar, 2001) (Hebrew). W. L. Westermann, “Enslaved Persons Who Are Free,” AJP 59 (1938): 1–30. G. ANTHONY KEDDIE

Related entries: Diadochi; Jesus of Nazareth; Maccabees, Second Book of; Maccabees, Third Book of; Persian Period; Revolt, Second Jewish; Roman Emperors; Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 ce; Kitos War).

Syriac Syriac Language.  Syriac is a dialect of Aramaic, which belongs to the North West Semitic language family. It is considered a dialect of late Aramaic, though Syriac attestations stretch from the 1st century ce until the present. Syriac remains similar to yet distinct from East Aramaic dialects such as Mandaic and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, as well as from West Aramaic dialects such as Christian Palestinian Aramaic, Samaritan Aramaic, and Jewish Palestinian Aramaic. Syriac originated in or around Edessa in the 1st or 2nd century ce as a local nonsectarian dialect, yet it soon became the language of choice for local Christian communities. By the 3rd century, it was the dominant and distinguishing language for Christians in Mesopotamia and North Syria. Among these late Aramaic dialects, Syriac remains the best documented, with biblical translations as well as exegetical and secular texts. The golden age of Syriac literary production stretched from the 4th to the 7th centuries ce. Syriac becomes useful to the student of Second Temple literature because of the texts, such as 2 Baruch, 4 Ezra, and the Psalms of Solomon, which were preserved primarily in Syriac. Bible Translations.  The Hebrew Bible was most likely translated into Syriac by the 2nd century ce, although the text clearly underwent revisions and standardizations over the centuries. It remains unclear as to whether this translation was produced in a “Jewish,” “Christian,” or other literary circle. Nevertheless, this translation, known as the Peshitta, became the standard text in Syriac-speaking Christian communities soon thereafter. It remains an important translation, not only due to its widespread acceptance among Syriac-speaking Christians but also because it marks where at least one version of the Hebrew canon and text stood in the 2nd century. The Peshitta also influenced how Syriac-speaking Christians read and understood their Bible, in contradistinction to other Greek-speaking Christian communities, who based their interpretations on the Septuagint. For the same reasons, the Hebrew Vorlage of the Peshitta also placed some

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Syriac exegesis closer to 2nd- to 4th-century rabbinic midrashic interpretations and the Jewish Aramaic targum translations. Nevertheless, the Peshitta was not without its critics, particularly because of its dependence on the Hebrew text rather than the Greek. Thus other translations were produced, such as Paul of Tella’s Syro-Hexapla, which was based on the Septuagint in Origen’s Hexapla. Standard Peshitta Bibles include a Syriac New Testament as well, but the history of that translation remains elusive. The New Testament text probably was not standardized until the 5th or 6th century, as there appears to have been several New Testament texts in circulation in Syriac at the same time in the earlier centuries, including a gospel harmony. The Peshitta remains important for biblical critical studies of both the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament and the New Testament for the variations and witnesses it provides to the earlier texts. Nevertheless, it also remains the standard Scripture of the Syriac-speaking churches and the basis for their extensive exegesis, liturgy, and spiritual writings. Other Second Temple Literature in Syriac.  Many Old Testament Peshitta manuscripts contain within them several apocryphal books common to other Bible canons and often composed in the Second Temple period, works such as Tobit, Judith, Prayer of Manasseh, and the first two books of the Maccabees. Yet one manuscript (Milan) also contains within it a Syriac translation of Josephus’ Jewish Wars, book 6, labeled 5 Maccabees. Two (relatively) late apocalypses, 4 Ezra (also known as 2 Esdras) and 2 Baruch, both reflecting on the Jewish national disaster of 70 ce and its aftermath, were probably written in Greek or Hebrew, but are preserved only or primarily in their Syriac versions. Another important text is the Syriac Psalms of Solomon. These hymns, written in the biblical style of the book of Lamentations but probably composed in the late Hasmonean or early Herodian period in Hebrew, remain extant only in Greek and Syriac versions. The manuscript traditions indicate that these psalms were considered important liturgy in some Christian circles, for in many manuscripts they are found following the Odes of Solomon, a 1st or 2nd-century Christian text. The Jewish-Hellenistic novella, Joseph and Aseneth, can be found in a late 6th-century Syriac manuscript, which is also the oldest manuscript evidence of this late diasporic Second Temple period text.

Bibliography A. M. Butts, “Syriac Language,” in Gorgias Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Syriac Heritage, ed. S.P. Brock, A.M. Butts, G.A. Kiraz and L.V Rompay (Piscataway: Gorgias, 2011), 390–1. S. P. Brock, An Introduction to Syriac Studies (Piscataway: Gorgias, 2006). A. Desreumaux, “Les Apocryphes Syriaques,” in Sources Syriaques, vol. 1 Nos Sources: Arts et littérature syriaques, ed. M. Atallah (Antélias: Centre d’Études et de Recherches Orientales, 2005), 363–84. P. B. Dirksen, “The Old Testament Peshitta,” in Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. M. J. Mulder, Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum 2:1 (Assen: Van Gorcum; Philadelphia : Fortress Press, 1988), 255–97. R. B. ter Haar Romeny, “The Syriac Versions of the Old Testament,” in Sources Syriaques, vol. 1 Nos Sources: Arts et littérature syriaques, ed. M. Atallah (Antélias: Centre d’Études et de Recherches Orientales, 2005), 59–83. NAOMI KOLTUN-FROMM

Related entries: Baruch, Second Book of; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Josephus, Writings of; Multilingualism. 775

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Tacitus As he was among the greatest historians and was writing in a crucial era, Tacitus (56–ca. 120 ce) represents one of the most significant Latin testimonies to early Judaism. Among his works, his Historiae treats the Flavian dynasty (69–96 ce), and his later Annales focuses on the earlier JulioClaudian dynasty (14–68 ce). While only portions of these histories survive, they intermittently treat Jewish (and nascent Christian, Ann. 15.44) affairs as they intersect with Roman history. Tacitus’ ethnographic digression in the Historiae (5.2–13) provides “the most detailed account of the history and religion of the Jewish people extant in classical Latin literature” (Stern 1980). Ranging some 1,700 words in length, the passage details an extended ethnography of Jewish origins and customs (5.2–5), a geography of Judea (5.6–8), and a condensed history from Antiochus IV to the Great Revolt (5.8–13). Since Tacitus’ career transpired in Rome and Gaul, he likely depended upon sources for his knowledge of Judea. This is apparent in the Historiae (5.2), where he reveals his extensive familiarity with six earlier ethnographies of the Jews, not all of which agree (Stern 1980; Bar-Kochva 2010). Tacitus ultimately defers to the ethnography “of most authors” that the Jews had been expelled from Egypt due to a plague (5.3). While this may initially seem reminiscent of the scriptural Exodus narrative, Tacitus reflects a story of Jewish origins found in different versions among Greco-Egyptian sources (cf. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.304–311). Expelled into the desert, Moses opportunistically encourages his compatriots to entrust their faith to whatever power would save them. At that very moment, a herd of wild asses scampers toward an oasis that saves them from exhaustion (5.3). The story provides an aetiology of the Jewish veneration of the ass, one of “the most humiliating charges leveled against the Jews in ancient times” (Bar-Kochva 2010). Passing from origins to customs, Tacitus ascribes to Moses the innovation of “new rites,” including a description of approximately 15 specific customs that intentionally oppose Judaism to all other nations (5.4–5). The resultant portrait paints Judaism as a misanthropic and unpatriotic superstitio, self-alienated from Roman society. Further aetiologies explain these rites, based upon the myth of their deliverance from the desert: e.g. their abstention from pork memorializes the plague for which they were originally exiled from Egypt (Gager 1972). In his condensed history of Judea, Tacitus reveals tendencies that may be compared with Josephus. He identifies the corrupt procurators Antonius Felix (5.9) and especially Gessius Florus, “in whose time war began” (5.10), as the principal Roman instigators of the Great Revolt (cf. Josephus, Ant. 20.137, 253). The Jewish revolutionaries were led by the “three generals, three armies” of Simon, John, and Eleazar, who secured respective precincts of Jerusalem (5.12; cf. Josephus, J.W. 5.21, 248). The Jewish populace was further inspired to fight by prodigies and omens, which they misinterpreted as signs of national deliverance, rather than prophecies of the emerging Flavian dynasty (5.13; cf. 1.10, 2.78; cf. Josephus, J.W. 6.285–286, 312–313). It remains in dispute whether Tacitus somehow may have relied indirectly on Josephus for these details or whether both independently reflect more widespread interpretations of the revolt in Flavian Rome (Edmondson 2005; Popović 2011).

Bibliography J. Gager, Moses in Greco-Roman Paganism, SBLMS 16 (Atlanta: SBL, 1972). CASEY D. ELLEDGE

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Temple, Jerusalem

Related entries: Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Historiography; Josephus, Writings of; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Generals.

Temple, Jerusalem Introduction.  The Second Temple was a priestly temple, not a component of a palatial compound like the First Temple. Its evolution can be divided into three periods: the Persian (538–332 bce), the Hellenistic (332–37 bce), and the Herodian (37 bce–70 ce). A variety of literary sources, both biblical and post-biblical, discuss the Second Temple; they include the works of Flavius Josephus, the New Testament, the Dead Sea Scrolls (mainly the Temple Scroll), and numerous rabbinic sources, as well as allusions by Greek and Latin authors. Unlike the Hellenistic and especially the Herodian periods, less information about the Temple is forthcoming from the Persian period. As for archaeological finds, they pertain mainly to the walls and gates of the Herodian precinct (Figure 4.145). In addition, most of the water cisterns, 37 altogether, within the Ḥaram al-Sharif, are telling residues of structures that stood there during the Second Temple period. Of the Temple proper there are no remains. Thus the Samaritan precinct on Mount Gerizim, built in the Persian and Hellenistic periods after the model of the lost Jewish Temple, is also relevant for the reconstruction of the Second Temple. Already in the 19th century scholars realized that the present floor level of the upper Muslim platform and the holy Rock (as Sakhra) under the Dome were lower than the Inner Court of the Herodian period. Hence, the Muslim Rock is itself irrelevant for locating any component of the Jewish Temple. The Temple Proper.  After an exile of approximately 50 years, Cyrus king of Persia issued an edict that permitted the Jews to return to their land, restore the sacrificial cult, and rebuild a

Figure 4.145  Reconstruction of the Herodian Second Temple and its Courts. 777

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temple 60 cubits wide and 60 cubits high—twice higher than Solomon’s (Ezra 1:1–4; 4:3; 5:13; 6:3–5; Josephus, Ant. 11.99–103). It was set on the former foundations, as was the altar. It was built of three courses of ashlars and one course of timber, not of whole unhewn stones. A 60-cubit width suggests a three storied side-structure of stone around the Sanctuary and Holy of Holies, rather than of timber. The Temple was restored by Simeon the Just (Sir 50:1–5; cf. Ant. 12.138– 144), the Hasmoneans (Ant. 13.181–217), and then Herod (cf. Josephus, J.W. 1.401–402; Ant. 15.380), who had an upper story added above the Sanctuary and Holy of Holies, a staircase in the thickness of the wall (messibah) on the north, and a drainage space on the south (Patrich 1986). The Herodian Temple attained a width of 70 cubits and a total height of 100 cubits. The ante-chamber (Ulam/Porch) was enlarged to be 100 cubits high and 100 cubits long. In the sanctuary stood one lampstand (menorah), the Table of the Showbread, and an Incense Altar, all of gold. The Holy of Holies, behind two curtains, was empty; just the tip of the Foundation Stone (Even HaShthiya) was seen (see J.W. 5.207–27). The facade of the Temple, facing the rising sun, was gold plated but plain. No column or pilasters were attached to it. The other sides were whitewashed, resembling a snowy mountain. A portal depicted on a silver di-drachma of Bar Kokhba, with a lintel of diagonally cut ends, represents the Porch portal. A silver tetra-drachma of Bar Kokhba, depicting an arched portal with four columns in front, represents the Sanctuary (Hekhal) portal with the golden vine hanging on the columns (so the Latin version of Ant. 15.394–95; Patrich 1993–1994; 2000). The Inner Court and the Location of the Temple.  The altar was built of un-hewn stones. Already under Nehemiah the Inner Court had gates and resembled a fortress (birah). Water for the sacrifice and for washing the hands and feet of the officiating priests was provided by a water cistern, i.e., HaGullah Cistern that was feeding the Laver by means of a water wheel. The Laver stood between the altar ramp and the Porch (m. Tam. 1:4–2:1; m. Midd. 3:6). HaGullah Cistern was the cistern that provided water for all the needs of the Inner Court (Azarah) (m. Midd. 5:4). It can be identified with water cistern number 5 on Wilson and Warren’s map of 1876 and is still extant below the upper Muslim esplanade (Patrich 2011) (Figure 4.146). A huge extant relic of the Jewish Temple, it is 15m deep, of peculiar shape (a 54m long corridor with perpendicular “arms” on each end), and reflects superb workmanship. The two eastern arms of the cistern point to the location of the altar and, hence, to the precise location of the Temple. The Temple axis ran 9.7° south of due east, rather than 6.2° north of it, if placed perpendicular to the (much later) eastern wall of the precinct. Consequently, the location of the gates and chambers of the Azarah can also be more exactly determined. It is thus certain that the place where the holy Muslim rock is now positioned was actually outside the Azarah (Patrich 2011). In pre-Herodian times the Laver was located inside a “House” (21 × 21 cubits in dimensions) that stood to the south of the sanctuary and above the western arm of cistern number 5. This area was a geological fissure that functioned as the “pit” into which the water of the Laver was drained (Temple Scroll xxxi.10–xxxiii.7; Patrich 2009a). Four Stages in the Evolution of the Temple Mount (the Outer Court).  According to the literary sources, four stages can be distinguished in the evolution of the precinct during the approximately 600 years that the Second Temple stood (Patrich and Edelcopp 2013). 778

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Figure 4.146  Herodian precinct and the underground water cisterns surveyed by Wilson and Warren 1886.

1. In the Persian period the Outer Court basically retained the un-elevated and non-leveled shape and extension it had during the First Temple period. 2. The building project of Simeon the Just (around 200 bce), described in Ben Sira (50:1–5) and in a decree and letter of Antiochus III to the Jews of Jerusalem (Ant. 12.138–144), involved elevating and leveling the precinct that was surrounded by porticos and retained by an elevated “corners wall” (Patrich 2009b). A grille (soreg, ‫ )ס ֶֹורג‬surrounded the area forbidden to gentiles, under death penalty (Ant. 15.417). Judas Maccabeus had fortified this precinct; its walls and towers, which would be destroyed by Antiochus V, were rebuilt by Jonathan. This area seems to have been the elevated Second Precinct of the Herodian temenos, which, according to Jewish War 5.193–194, was 1 × 1 stadia in its dimensions.

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3. The Hasmoneans, seemingly under John Hyrcanus I and for ideological reasons, extended the area of the Temple Mount to encompass 500 × 500 cubits, as envisioned by Ezekiel and recommended by the contemporary Temple Scroll. This is the Temple Mount described in Mishnah (m. Midd. 2:1), which refers to the pre-Herodian precinct (the Herodian one was much larger). Two ravines that separated the Temple Hill from the Acra Hill, which was located further south, were filled in by the Hasmoneans, “with the objective of uniting the city to the Temple, and [they] also reduced the elevation of the Acra by leveling its summit, in order that it might not block the view of the Temple” (J.W. 5.139). Since the upper part of the Acra was removed, the Temple Mount later could be further extended by Herod. 4. The walls of the Herodian precinct survive to the present. A miqveh was uncovered recently under the first course of the western wall near Robinson’s Arch. It has been suggested that four coins dated to the years 15/16 ce found in the bottom of the fill serve as a terminus post quem for the construction of the southern section of the western wall, namely several decades after Herod, but other interpretations may better explain these finds, which deserve further study. The Temple was set on fire and the precinct destroyed by the Roman army under Titus’ command in Av 10, year 70 ce (J.W. 6.250). A detailed description of its dimensions and components is given in tractate Middot of the Mishnah, compiled immediately after the destruction, when there were still hopes that the Temple would be shortly rebuilt (Figure 4.147). This detailed description includes the Temple’s plain facade, a golden vine hanging on columns flanking the Sanctuary

Figure 4.147  The Second Temple as described in Mishnah tractate Middot.

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portal, three stories of cells around the Sanctuary and the Holy of Holies, and a graded ascent within the northern wall (messibah). This evidence makes it possible to draw up a composite architectural blueprint.

Bibliography L. I. Levine, “Josephus’ Description of the Jerusalem Temple; ‘War’, ‘Antiquities’, and Other Sources,” in Josephus and the History of the Greco-Roman Period; Essays in Memory of Morton Smith, eds. F. Parente and J. Sievers, SPB 41 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 233–46. J. Patrich, “The Mesibbah of the Second Temple in Jerusalem according to the Tractate Middot,” IEJ 36 (1986): 215–33. J. Patrich, “The Golden Vine, the Sanctuary Portal and its Depiction on the Bar-Kokhba Coins,” Jewish Art 19/20 (1993–1994): 56–61. J. Patrich, “The Structure of the Second Temple—A New Reconstruction,” in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, eds. H. Geva and J. Shadur (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000), 260–71. J. Patrich, “The Pre-Herodian Temple I: Reassessing the House of the Laver and the House of the Utensils in the Temple Scroll,” RB 116/4 (2009a): 505–26. J. Patrich, “The Pre-Herodian Temple II: The Building Project of Simeon the Just on the Temple Mount,” RB 114.4 (2009b): 558–74. J. Patrich, “The Location of the Second Temple and the Layout of its Court’s Gates and Chambers: A New Proposal,” in  Unearthing Jerusalem: 150 Years of Archaeological Research, eds. K. Galor and G. Avni (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 209–33. J. Patrich, with M. Edelcopp, “Four Stages in the Evolution of the Temple Mount,” RB 120/3 (2013): 321–61. JOSEPH PATRICH

Related entries: Architecture; Cisterns and Reservoirs; Cyrus the Great; Hasmonean Dynasty; Herod the Great; Holiness; Jerusalem, Archaeology of; Jerusalem in Second Temple Literature; Jerusalem, The New; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; New Jerusalem Text; Priesthood; Sacrifices and Offerings; Seleucids; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology); Temple, Leontopolis (Literature); Temple Scroll (11QTemple+4Q frags); Worship.

Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology) According to Josephus, the Jewish high priest Onias III (or Onias IV, later, in the mid-50s of the 2nd century bce under the Jewish high priest Alcimus) fled the persecutions of Antiochus IV Epiphanes (ca. 168/167–164 bce) and took refuge in Egypt (Josephus, Ant. 12.383–388; J.W. 1.31–33; 7.423–425). There he was granted permission by Ptolemy VI Philometor to build a Jewish temple in a place Josephus designates “Leontopolis” (Ant. 13.65, 70) in the “nome” (νομός, nomos, “region” or “district”) of Heliopolis (Ant. 13.285; see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). According to Josephus (J.W. 7.427–430), Onias’ temple was a structure built of huge stones (60 cubits in height) and resembled a tower (Figure 4.148 A). It should be assumed that it also had a priestly court (Figure 4.148 B), an altar (Figure 4.148 C), and storage facilities (Figure 4.148 D). The entire precinct was surrounded by a mudbrick wall (Figure 4.148 E) with stone gates (Figure 4.148 F). Although no remains of Onias’ temple have been recovered, the location is commonly identified with Tell el-Yahoudieh, meaning “Mound of the Jew,” an artificial mound located in the Eastern Nile Delta some 34 km north of Cairo (30°17′ N, 31°20′ E). Archaeological surveys and excavations were conducted several times at the site and

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Figure 4.148  Reconstruction of Leontopolis Temple.

its immediate vicinity throughout the latter half of the 19th century until the first half of the 20th century (see Naville and Griffith 1890; Flinders Petrie 1906). On top of the artificial hill are vestiges of a structure from the Hellenistic period believed to be the remains of a sacred tripartite building (temple). Petrie also discovered remnants of a giant staircase leading up to the temple, but this detail is not reported by Josephus (Petrie 1906: 23). Comprehensively relying on the latter’s accounts, Petrie sought to prove the identification of the site with Onias’ temple/ Leontopolis (Petrie 1906: 19–27). In an earlier survey conducted in the immediate vicinity of the tel, E. Naville, and F. Griffith discovered several funerary stelae predominantly from the early Roman period. The origin of these stelae was assumed to be Jewish and thought to have belonged to the Jewish Oniad community (Naville and Griffith 1890: 15–19; Horbury and Noy 1992: 51–196). However, the cemetery does not seem to be entirely Jewish (see Bohak 1997: 106–7; Ilan 2006). The Jewish Oniad community there was largely composed of Jewish mercenaries who stood in the service of the Ptolemaic military (see, e.g., Josephus, Ant. 14.131). This is to be expected, since Jews served as mercenaries in the Ptolemaic empire in almost every place in Egypt until the Roman takeover (31/30 bce; see, e.g., Let. Aris. 13–14; 35–37; CPJ 18–33; Tcherikover 1957: 12–15, 147–48; Kasher 1978). It seems that in this cemetery foreign (gentile) mercenaries may have been buried alongside their Jewish fellow combatants (see also Ameling 2008: 124). This evidence suggests that the Oniad Jews at this site were not bothered by the fact that they were laid to rest next to non-Jews. This inference suggests a certain degree of assimilation and acculturation—if not universalism (on this issue Piotrkowski 2019b). Such an outlook is also reflected by the fact that all of the funerary epitaphs are written in Greek, are generally devoid of any Jewish symbols, employ notions that bear strong affiliations with Greek/Hellenistic ideas, and are written in a metric rhyme form, which is uncommon in comparison with other known Egyptian-Jewish burial practices. Additional factors, however, make a straightforward identification of Tell el-Yahoudieh with the site of Onias’ temple far from certain (see also Hata 2011). A funerary epitaph found near the tel referring to the “Land of Onias” (‘Ονίου, Oniou ga; Horbury and Noy 1992: 90–94; no. 38) likely implies that Onias ruled a substantial territory and would connect the site with the temple 782

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only in a general sense. This means that even though Tell el-Yahoudieh may indeed have been an Oniad settlement (part of the “Land of Onias”), it may not have been the location of the temple. In fact, Isaiah’s prophecy (Isa 19:18–19), which later served as a founding legend for Onias’ templebuilding project, predicts the existence of “five cities in the land of Egypt speaking the Canaanite language.” Accordingly, one may speculate whether Onias sought to establish not one settlement but many (see also Bohak 1996: 27). Moreover, a “Leontopolis” in the Heliopolite nome is unattested, and even if it may have existed, ancient Leontopolis has recently been identified with Tell Muqdam (in the Leontopolite nome), thus ruling out its identification with Tell el-Yahoudieh (see Redmount and Friedman 1997 and also Yoyotte 1988–1989). Since Josephus repeatedly mentions that Onias’ temple was located in the nome of Heliopolis, it may have once stood in the area (chōra, χώρα) outside the city of Heliopolis (see Bohak 1996: 27; Piotrkowski 2015: 342– 46). However, the matter remains speculative until the real vestiges of the temple are discovered.

Bibliography W. Ameling,”Die jüdische Gemeinde von Leontopolis nach den Inschriften,” in Die Septuaginta Texte, Kontexte, Lebenswelten, ed. M. Karrer, W. Kraus, and M. Meiser (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 117–33. G. Bohak, “Good Jews, Bad Jews and Non-Jews in Greek Papyri and Inscriptions,” in Akten des 21. Internationalen Papyrologenkongresses, Berlin 13–19.8.1995, ed. B. Kramer, AfP Beiheft 3 (Stuttgart and Leipzig: Teubner, 1997), 105–12. G. Hata, “Where is the Temple Site of Onias IV in Egypt?” in Flavius Josephus; Interpretation and History, ed. J. Pastor, P. Stern, and M. Mor (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 177–91. T. Ilan, “The New Jewish Inscriptions from Hierapolis and the Question of Jewish Diaspora Cemeteries,” SCI 25 (2006): 71–86. A. Kasher, “First Jewish Military Units in Ptolemaic Egypt,” JSJ 9 (1978): 57–67. E. Naville and F. Griffith, The Mound of the Jew and the City of Onias (London: Egypt Exploration Fund, 1890). M. M. Piotrkowski, Priests in Exile: The History of the Temple of Onias and Its Community in the Hellenistic Period (Berlin and Boston: Walter de Gruyter, 2019a). M. M. Piotrkowski, “‘Priests in Exile:’ On the Identity of the Oniad Jewish Community of Heliopolis,” A Question of Identity: Social, Political, and Historical Aspects of Identity Dynamics in Jewish and Other Contexts, eds. D. Rivlin-Katz, N. Hacham, G. Herman and L. Sagev (Berlin and Boston: Walter de Gruyter, 2019b), 165–82. C. A. Redmount and R. F. Friedman, “Tales of a Delta Site: The 1995 Field Season at Tell El-Muqdam,” JARCE 34 (1997): 57–83. J. Yoyotte, “Sites et cultes de Basse-Egypte: les deux Léontopolis,” Annuaire—Ecole pratique des hautes études. Section des sciences religieuses 97 (1988–1989): 669–83. MERON M. PIOTRKOWSKI

Related entries: Diaspora; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Military, Jews in the; Oniads; Priesthood; Ptolemies; Revolt, Maccabean; Revolt, First Jewish; Romanization; Sacrifices and Offerings; Temple, Jerusalem; Temple, Leontopolis (Literature).

Temple, Leontopolis (Literature) A Jewish temple, endowed with an altar for sacrifices, was founded at Leontopolis near Heliopolis by a Jerusalem high priest, Onias III, or his son Onias IV, according to two different versions of the story given by Flavius Josephus. In the Jewish War (7.420–436; 1.31–33), written in Rome 783

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in the years 75–81 ce, the historian states that the legitimate high priest Onias III, son of Simon, once deposed by his brother, the hellenized Jason, escaped to Egypt and the court of Ptolemy VI Philometor, and built a smaller copy of the Jerusalem Temple near Heliopolis, with a central lampstand with one fire instead of the seven-branch menorah. Jerome (Expl. Dan. 3.11.14b) reports that at the time of the fall of Onias “an endless multitude of Jews sought refuge in Egypt,” confirming Josephus’ remark that many followed Onias instead of the contemporary Jerusalem priesthood (on the priestly class in Jerusalem, Honigman 2014). However, in the Jewish Antiquities (12.237–241, 383–388; 13.62–73; 20.235–236), published in 93/94 ce, Josephus claims that it was Onias IV, son of Onias III, who founded the temple of Leontopolis. The duplication of Onias III and Onias IV in the ancient tradition may be an indicator of a “reconciliation” between Jerusalem and Leontopolis, after Judas restored the main Temple in 164 bce. Josephus’ source for the Jewish Antiquities, perhaps the Leontopolis priests themselves, may have created the figure of Onias IV in order to silence the conflicts between Onias III and the Jerusalem clergy; like 2 Maccabees, it canonized the figure of Onias III as a martyr and a holy man, not as a rebel. The temple of Onias became the focus of a renovated Egyptian Judaism, and it is unlikely that the Oniads, who regarded themselves as the legitimate dynasty of high priests, could have founded a schismatic temple (Capponi 2007). Instead, the temple aimed to revive and represent a rigorous face of Judaism; the novel Joseph and Aseneth may represent symbolically the conversion of Egyptian Jews to a more proper form of Judaism, imported from Palestine (Bohak 1996). The temple was said to fulfill a prophecy in Isaiah 19:18–19 regarding the foundation of a Jewish altar and a stela in Egypt, probably referring back to the temple of Elephantine, of the Persian period. According to Talmud (b. Menaḥ. 109b. y. Yoma 6.3), the temple of Leontopolis is not idolatrous, although it could not replace that of Jerusalem. The letters of Judas to the Jews of Egypt inserted at the beginning of 2 Maccabees could be interpreted as an attempt to reconcile Jerusalem with the Egyptian Jews. The reconciliation did take place, as the Egyptian Jews appear to be loyal to the Jerusalem Temple up to its fall in 70 ce. A medieval Christian source (Bartholomaeus Anglicus, De pr. rerum 12.14) reports a tradition, probably originating in the Jewish community of Egypt, whereby the phoenix appeared at Heliopolis at the time of the foundation of the temple of Onias and sacrificed itself in the fire on the altar. As the phoenix was a symbol of renewal and “resurrection” in Egyptian and in Jewish-Hellenistic culture, this legend shows that the temple of Onias represented a new birth of Judaism after the traumatic hellenization of Jerusalem under the Seleucids. Onias’ temple was destroyed on the order of Vespasian in 73 ce, for fear that it could become a new center of Judaism. Its necropolis, with around 80 epitaphs written in Greek, was discovered by Flinders Petrie on the site of Tell el-Yehoudieh, “The Mound of the Jews” (Horbury and Noy 1992).

Bibliography L. Capponi, Il tempio di Leontopoli in Egitto. Identità politica e religiosa dei Giudei di Onia (ca. 150 a.C.—73 d.C.) (Pisa: ETS, 2007). LIVIA CAPPONI

Related entries: Diaspora; Hellenism and Hellenization; Isaiah, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Military, Jews in the; Oniads; Prophecy; Ptolemies; Revolt, Maccabean; Revolt, First Jewish; Romanization; Sacrifices and Offerings; Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology).

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Temple Tax The Temple tax was a yearly contribution to the cost of the official service in the Jerusalem Temple, collected from every male Jew aged 20 or older. The basis for the amount of the tax (half a shekel) is found in Exodus 30:13–14 in the context of the one-time census that Moses took in the desert. An annual contribution of a third of a shekel for the maintenance of the Temple is mentioned in Nehemiah 10:32–33. In later centuries the half-shekel was adopted as the amount of the annual tax. One of the documents found near Qumran (4Q159) points to the fact that at least one group in Judea considered this half-shekel tax to be an once-in-a-lifetime obligation (Magness 2002: 190). During the Second Temple period tax money was also collected in diaspora communities in the Hellenistic states, the subsequent Roman Empire, and in the Parthian Empire, and sent to Jerusalem. Philo of Alexandria (Spec. 1.77–78) speaks in general about the “storehouse for the sacred things” in “almost every city” of the Roman Empire and the custom to select “sacred ambassadors” to take this money to the Temple in Jerusalem periodically. Philo also writes about the gold and silver that was sent to Jerusalem from regions that were outside the empire: from “Babylon and many others of the satrapies of the east” (Legat. 216). The attractiveness of this money seems to have been a recurring problem for Jewish communities in Asia Minor in the 1st century bce (Trebilco 2006: 13–16). Not only were common thieves a threat, but Greek city authorities or even Roman officials were sometimes tempted to look for ways to confiscate this money (e.g. Cicero, Pro Flacco 28.66–69, Josephus, Ant. 16.45, 16.164). The earliest known example of this phenomenon is the robbery of 800 talents by Mithridates, king of Pontus, in 88 bce, as reported by Strabo (cited by Josephus, Ant. 14.112–113). Under Roman rule several complaints about similar incidents were sent to Rome by Jewish communities, and from Augustus onward Jews were specifically granted the right to collect money and send it to Jerusalem (Philo, Legat. 156–157, 291 and 312–316; Josephus, Ant. 16.160–174, see Pucci Ben Zeev 1998: 376–7). During the last two centuries in which the Second Temple stood, the tax needed to be paid to the priestly authorities in the form of Tyrian silver shekels. For that reason, money changing became a necessity in the Temple grounds (e.g. Matt 21:12). In the Gospel of Matthew, the story is told of Jesus and Peter paying the tax together, somewhat reluctantly (Matt 17:24–27). In the Mishnah a full tractate is dedicated to the Temple tax (Šeqalim). It is not clear how much of this (sometimes very detailed) information is historically accurate. The Mishnah, e.g., lists the different coins that were consecutively used to pay for the yearly tax during the history of the Second Temple. After the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce the collection of the tax ended, but the Roman emperor Vespasian almost immediately introduced the fiscus Judaicus, a Roman tax authority which was supposed to continue collecting the same amount of money, i.e. the equivalent of half a shekel: two Roman denarii, two Attic drachmai, or four Egyptian drachmai from all Jews within the Roman Empire for the benefit of the Temple of Jupiter in Rome (Josephus, J.W. 7.218, Cassius Dio, Hist. Rom. 65.7.2.), which meant that this tax was paid not only by male adult Jews but also by women, slaves, and minors (Heemstra 2010: 9–23). In this context it is remarkable that

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the Mishnah (m. Šeqal. 1:5) states that the half-shekel Temple tax was also accepted when paid by women, slaves, and minors.

Bibliography See General Bibliography MARIUS HEEMSTRA

Related entries: Exodus, Book of; Josephus, Writings of; Numbers, Book of; Philo of Alexandria; Roman Emperors; Slavery; Tribute and Taxes; Wealth and Poverty.

Tertullian Tertullian (ca. 160–220 ce) was a Christian author in Carthage, Roman North Africa. Little is extant about his life, since known biographical sketches draw on unreliable accounts; even the long-held identification of Tertullian with a Roman jurist of the same name is implausible (Barnes 1985; Osborn 2003). What may be known from his writings is that he was a well-educated man of pagan background who converted to Christianity by 196 ce. His earliest surviving works date from about that time, and he flourished as an author until around 214 or perhaps as late as the 220s. From ca. 205 he displays a sympathetic interest in Montanism, though it is uncertain whether he formally joined a Montanist sect. The date of his death is unknown. Tertullian is the first significant Christian author to write in Latin, and his legacy has left lasting impact in such areas as Latin trinitarian language and the application of sophistic rhetorical techniques in Christian polemic (Barnes 1985). Broadly speaking, his works fall into three categories: (1) apologetic works defending Christianity against misunderstanding and exposing the inferiority of Roman culture; (2) polemical works that give insight into the diversity of Christian belief during his time and the contours of the heresiological response; and (3) works dealing with matters of church discipline and morality, such as modesty, baptism, penitence, idolatry, marriage, and martyrdom. In his writings Tertullian strives to construct a distinct Christian social identity (Wilhite 2007), advocating reliance on the authority of revelation and the orthodox tradition over secular learning. His works also display a strong sense of moral rigor. His apologetic work, Adversus Judaeos, purports to have been occasioned by a debate between a Jewish proselyte and a Christian. It is an early example of anti-Judaic Christian literature and may have been written soon after Tertullian’s conversion (Barnes 1985). The first part argues from scripture for the supersession of Jews by the Christians; the last part seeks to prove the messiahship of Jesus Christ. The text appears fragmentary or composite; some hold the second part to be inauthentic due to its use of material that is also found in Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem. Some even doubt the authenticity of the first part, claiming that the work was written after Tertullian’s time to inform Christian self-understanding and that it actually says nothing about late 2nd century contacts between Jews and Christians. However, recent rhetorical analysis suggests the work is authentic, though the second part is preserved in an unrevised state (Barnes 1985). As such, it illuminates actual ongoing contacts between Jews and Christians in 2nd-century Carthage that informed Tertullian’s discussion (Dunn 2008). The text is therefore not aimed at identity formation but was rather meant to provide a 786

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model for Christian engagement with Judaism. The question of Tertullian’s actual knowledge of and relationship with Jews remains highly contested, however. The treatise, which argues repeatedly from the Hebrew Scriptures, illustrates the influence of classical rhetoric on early Christian interpretive strategies.

Bibliography T. D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Literary and Historical Study (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971; rev. 1985). G. D. Dunn, Tertullian’s Aduersus Iudaeos: A Rhetorical Analysis, Patristic Monograph Series 19 (Washington: Catholic University of America: 2008). E. Osborn, Tertullian: First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). D. E. Wilhite, Tertullian the African: An Anthropological Reading of Tertullian’s Context and Identities, Millennium Studies 14 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). JEFF W. CHILDERS

Related entries: Apologetic Literature; Conversion and Proselytism; Education; Jesus Movement; Jesus of Nazareth; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Messiah.

Testaments Testaments are farewell discourses delivered by a dying person to his gathered descendants in anticipation of his imminent death. Primary examples of farewell discourses are found in the Hebrew Bible (Gen 49, Jacob; Deut 33, Moses; Josh 23–24, Joshua; 1 Kgs 2:1–10, 1 Chron 28–29, David). Loose examples have also been identified in teachings from Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, as well as in Greek texts. Though presaged in antiquity, deathbed speeches only emerged as a common literary genre called “testaments” in the Second Temple period. Scholars define the genre “testament” either by its formal literary characteristics or by the nature of its content. The foremost literary characteristic is a testament’s narrative framework. Typically, a testament begins with a third-person description of the setting of the farewell discourse in which a well-known biblical personage calls together his descendants and imparts vital knowledge and wisdom to them. It concludes with the narration of the speaker’s death. The discourse itself is delivered in the first person “I” (Collins 1984). Determining a testament by its content is not as straightforward. For some, the essential feature is parenesis, for others it is apocalyptic or future forecasting, and for still others it is a combination of both parenesis and apocalyptic (see Kolenkow 1975). Further complicating the issue is the common ground testaments share with other literature, i.e., pseudepigraphy, wisdom literature, Greco-Roman novels, and midrash. Although content does not follow a fixed pattern, rendering it problematic for determining genre, general characteristics can be discerned. For example, both apocalyptic and ethics exist in testaments. Events from the testator’s life are used to illustrate his words or to validate his predictions, revelation, or exhortation. Frequently authors of testaments elaborate on older stories and change patriarchal stories to suit their own purposes, as well as historicize contemporary problems and sins to provide the audience with insight into their present reality (Kolenkow and Collins 1986). Testaments were a popular form of writing during the Second Temple period, partly due to the belief that God granted a dying person prophetic knowledge and visions of the future,

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and partly due to their pseudepigraphic attribution to well-known persons. Testaments, like the apocalypses, augment their authority by using the names of revered biblical figures (e.g. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and his twelve sons, Moses, Job, and Solomon). This, coupled with the significance of a person’s last words, lent authority and authenticity to the anonymous author’s own ideas, opinions, and predictions, and allowed him to put his ex eventu prophecies and forecasts of future events into the mouth of his “biblical figure.” Only three Jewish texts from the Second Temple period can be reckoned testaments by their narrative framework: Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (T. 12 Patr.), Testament of Moses (T. Mos.), and Testament of Job (T. Job). The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs is exemplary of the testament genre and has received the most scholarly attention. The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, which includes the word testament (διαθήκη, diathēkē) in the title, contains the deathbed speeches of Jacob’s twelve sons, each of which addresses either a virtue or a vice. After a historical narrative about the patriarch’s life (with the exception of T. Ash.), each testament weaves commands with biographical narrative and predictions, creating two parallel sections of ethical exhortation and eschatological predictions. The Testament of Moses, also known as the Assumption of Moses, is a historical-eschatological vision set in a narrative framework that purports to be Moses’ farewell exhortation to Joshua before he receives leadership of the Israelites. Since the ending of the Testament of Moses has been lost, it must be assumed that the narration of Moses’ death was part of the earlier text. The Testament of Job is a prosaic and often humorous embellishment of the biblical Book of Job that presents Job as an exemplar of patience and endurance. A number of other works known as testaments (Testament of Adam, Testament of Abraham, Testament of Isaac, Testament of Jacob, and Testament of Solomon) lack the formal literary characteristics of a testament, or are thoroughly Christianized, or both. As a result, they are often not considered testaments at all. The best-known of these works is the Testament of Abraham (T. Ab.). Though a narrative about Abraham’s impending death, it does not contain a farewell discourse. The patriarch is so busy trying to avoid his imminent death that he does not have time to pass on his wisdom or to bless his descendants. The Testament of Abraham offers an engaging narrative interspersed with humor that is replete with thoughtful insights on mortality and that portrays Abraham as a model of hospitality (see Kolenkow 1976). Several fragmentary texts from Qumran have also been called testaments—Testament of Jacob (4Q537), Testament of Judah (3Q7 and 4Q484), Testament of Benjamin (4Q538), Testament of Joseph (4Q539), Testament of Kohath (4Q542), Testament of Levi (Aramaic Levi Document; 1Q21; 4Q213–214), Testament of Naphtali (Genealogy of Bilhah; 4Q215), and the Visions of Amram (4Q543–549). Among these the clearest example of the genre “testament” is the Visions of Amram. Though the Christian Scripture is known as the “New Testament,” it is not actually a “testament.” This corpus received its name through translation. The Septuagint translated the Hebrew word berith (‫ברית‬, “covenant”) with the Greek word diathēkē (διαθήκη, “disposition, will, testament”) instead of the more appropriate word synthēkē (συνθήκη, “compact, agreement, covenant”). Later, the Latin ecclesiastical writers translated diathēkē as testamentum. The term “Old Testament” (παλαιὰ διαθήκη, palaia diathēkē) first appears in the works of Melito of

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Sardis, ca. 170 ce, and the terms “Old Testament” and “New Testament” (vetus and novum instrumentum) were well established by the time of Tertullian, 3rd century ce.

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “Testaments,” Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period (1984), 325–56. A. B. Kolenkow, “The Genre testament and Forecasts of the Future in the Hellneistic Jewish Milieu,” JSJ 6 (1975): 57–71. A. B. Kolenkow, “The Genre Testament and the Testament of Abraham,” Studies on the Testament of Abraham (1976), 139–52. A. B. Kolenkow and J. J. Collins, “Testaments,” Modern Interpreters (1986), 259–85. VERED HILLEL

Related entries: Eschatology; Ethics; Death and Afterlife; Pseudepigrapha, Old Testament; Qahat, Testament of.

Teucer of Cyzicus Teucer of Cyzicus probably lived in the 1st century bce (Meister 2009: 330). According to the Suda (T 426), “He wrote On Land that Produces Gold, On Byzantium, five books On the Deeds of Mithridates, five books About Tyre, five books of Arabica, a Jewish History in six books (Ἰουδαϊκὴν ἱστορίαν, Ioudaikēn historian), and three books On the Training of Ephebes in Cyzicus, and others.” The three fragments that survive of his works are etymological explanations of two place names, Buthrotum in Epirus (FrGH 274, frag. 1a-b) and a stream in Euboea (FrGH 274, frag. 2), and an entry on “snail” (FrGH 274, frag. 3) from his Definitions. It is unlikely that his book about Mithridates was anti-Roman, since Mithridates had besieged his city—a siege which the inhabitants broke with help from Roman legions led by Lucius Lucullus (Appian, Mithridatica 72.305–76.332). A priori one cannot determine whether or not his history was antiJewish, but the range of titles of his works and the existent fragments more closely resemble the interests of another writer from Asia, the polymath Alexander Polyhistor, than those of Apollonius Molon, the Carian, who wrote material critical of the Jews.

Bibliography K. Meister, “T. of Cyzicus [3],” BNP 14 (2009): 330. JOHN GRANGER COOK

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Text Types, Hebrew The discovery of over 200 (mostly fragmentary) scrolls of books of the Hebrew Bible from the Dead Sea Scrolls caves has provided a window into the variety of text types in circulation during the Second Temple period. Although a consensus has not yet crystallized (cf. Hendel 2016: 173– 99; Tov 2012: 155–90; Ulrich 2015: 1–27), the general outlines of a theory of text types can be sketched. A text type is, in general terms, a group of manuscripts possessing a genetic family

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relationship, with typological features and shared derived innovations that distinguish it from other groups or families. First, some caveats. One cannot posit a single model or stemma of text types for the entire Hebrew Bible. There are some clusters of books for which a single model may apply, most prominently the Pentateuch, for which there are some consistent features of textual history. The same may hold for Samuel-Kings. In most cases, however, each book has a distinctive textual history, which cannot be mapped easily onto other books. Another difficulty concerns the criteria that should be used to distinguish textual types or families. Ulrich (2015: 41–45) has advocated using the criterion of variant literary editions as the primary indicator of different text types. Since differences of edition constitute the largest scale of textual change, it is methodologically warranted to use this criterion to make the first cut. There are, however, other levels of textual change—such as tendencies for harmonization— that often cut across different editions. These different criteria should be combined carefully to construct plausible models for the text types of each book or cluster of books. For the Pentateuch, which has been the section studied most intensively, there is a plausible model of text types (Hendel 2016: 201–53; Ulrich 2015: 29–45). In this cluster of books, scholars have discerned three text types which each have distinctive typological characteristics. By convention, these are called (with some variations) proto-Masoretic Text (MT), protoSamaritan Pentateuch (SP), and proto-Septuagint (LXX). For a variety of sociological and geographical reasons, one sub-lineage from each of these three textual families was preserved by three different religious communities—Jews, Samaritans, and Christians, respectively. But it would be anachronistic to think that these three textual families originated or accumulated their distinctive features because of socioreligious concerns. The main typological differences among these three families are scribal changes that were motivated by exegetical problems, based on the presuppositions of scribal hermeneutics during the Second Temple period. These significant scribal changes include the following: 1. Three different revisions of the chronologies of Genesis 5 and 11. Scribes in the proto-MT, proto-SP, and proto-LXX traditions adopted distinctive strategies to solve exegetical problems in the text, including the apparent survival of three antediluvian patriarchs after the flood. 2. An expanded edition of the tabernacle text of Exodus 35–40. Proto-LXX has a shorter account of the construction of the tabernacle, which is arguably the first (or base) edition. The edition common to the proto-MT and proto-SP editions is expanded, harmonized, and reordered to correspond more closely with God’s instructions to Moses in Exodus 25–30. 3. Differences of textual sequence. At Genesis 47:5–11, proto-MT (= proto-SP) is reordered and truncated due to problems in the narrative. Proto-LXX preserves the earlier text. At Numbers 10:34–36, proto-MT (= proto-SP) and proto-LXX have different locations for the “Song of the Ark.” It is unclear whether one placement is secondary or whether the Song was a late editorial insertion in all textual traditions. 4. Large-scale harmonizations. There are roughly forty large-scale harmonizations in the proto-SP family, which includes several Qumran biblical manuscripts. In these harmonizations, significant blocks of textual details have been transferred between parallel texts. Most notably, large harmonizations were made in the correspondence between the 790

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divine commands and executions in the plague stories (Exod 7–11) and between events recalled by Moses in Deuteronomy 1–3 and the description of those events in Exodus and Numbers. 5. Small harmonizations. There are roughly 1,500 small harmonizations in the Septuagint Pentateuch, of which around 325 are shared with the Samaritan Pentateuch. The large quantity of small harmonizations in the Septuagint constitutes a consistent pattern across all the Pentateuchal books. On the basis of these distinctive scribal changes, most of which are extensive and systematic, proto-MT, proto-SP, and proto-LXX can be defined as three different text types. There may have been additional Pentateuchal text types in antiquity, but there is no clear evidence for them. From Qumran there are also “mixed” Pentateuchal texts and texts of unknown affiliation. However, the affinities of these “other” texts would likely be discernible if more of the scrolls had been preserved. A remarkable group of texts, called the “Reworked Pentateuch” (4QRP), display the expansionistic tendencies of older scribal traditions, while also truncating (or possibly reordering) the Pentateuchal texts. One can regard this group as a late text type. These texts share many exegetical tendencies with “rewritten Bible” texts such as Jubilees and the Temple Scroll. In sum, the Pentateuch circulated in multiple editions and text types during the Second Temple period. This textual plurality is the result of extensive exegetical activity, and it motivated the production of further exegetical works. In many other biblical books, two or more text types are discernible based on the criterion of variant literary editions (Tov 2012: 283–326; Müller, Pakkala and ter Haar Romey 2014). These include Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Psalms, Proverbs, Esther, and Daniel.

Bibliography R. Hendel, Steps to a New Edition of the Hebrew Bible (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016). R. Müller, J. Pakkala, and B. ter Haar Romeny, Evidence of Editing: Growth and Change of Texts in the Hebrew Bible (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014). RONALD HENDEL

Related entries: Exodus, Book of; Genesis, Book of; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings; Jubilees, Book of; Numbers, Book of; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices.

Theaters Theaters formed a major part of the urban landscape throughout the Mediterranean world and impacted Jews living in both the Eastern Mediterranean and the diaspora. In the Eastern Mediterranean theaters appeared under Herod the Great, who inaugurated their construction in Jerusalem, Jericho, and Caesarea Maritima (Figure 4.149; see Map 10: Herod the Great and His Successors [43 bce–6 ce]). Herod instituted quinquennial shows in honor of Augustus in Jerusalem (28 bce) and Caesarea (10 bce) (Josephus, Ant. 15.267–76, 341; 16.137–40). According to Josephus, Jews in Jerusalem criticized the innovations there as “foreign practices” undermining “the ancestral customs.” They objected that the trophies, which adorned the theater

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Figure 4.149  Roman theater at Caesarea Maritima.

and bore the arms of the nations Caesar had conquered, counted as images in breach of the second commandment (Exod 20:4; Deut 5:8). In response Herod revealed that the substructure supporting the armor was more like a wooden rack than an image. Herod thus persuaded “the majority.” Only a few holdouts maintained their outrage (Ant. 15.275–81). While this negative attitude toward theater would persist among the rabbis after the war, many Jews did not hold to their original indignation. Theater had arrived, and it would develop as an institution in the Eastern Mediterranean. As a further sign of this Agrippa I later summoned Simon to the theater in Caesarea after Simon criticized him for his assimilation to Roman ways. Agrippa asked, “What of the things that happen here is contrary to law?” Simon was unable to respond (Ant. 19.332–34). Agrippa I and Agrippa II also built a theater to the north in Berytus and exhibited shows both there and in Caesarea (Ant. 19.321, 335–37, 343–48; 20.211–12). Archaeology has shown that theaters soon dotted the whole Eastern Mediterranean landscape. In addition to the remains of Herod’s theaters in Caesarea and Jericho, other 1st to early 2nd-century venues have been excavated in Tiberias, Sepphoris, Pella, Gerasa, Gadara, Scythopolis, Hippos, Philadelphia, and further to the south in Nabataean Petra and Elusa. Throughout the 1st century theaters thus slowly emerged in the Eastern Mediterranean, and some Eastern Mediterranean Jews (esp. city dwellers) began to obtain theatrical cultural fluency. Jews in the diaspora also had to contend with the theaters, which were a vital part of public life in their respective cities. In Philo of Alexandria criticized the shows because the theater enslaved the rational mind to the irrational sensations (Agr. 35). Yet Philo attests to his own theatergoing. Once he observed rival theatrical claques split between enthusiasm, boredom, and dislike over competing singers and actors (Ebr. 177). Elsewhere he observed the audience acclaim an actor who recited a line about “freedom” from Euripides (Prob. 141). Philo’s interest in watching the audience rather than the show is consistent with the theater’s function as a place where the populace interactively recontextualized lines through acclaim in order to make their political will known to officials. The theater was a place where one could gauge and give voice to public opinion. By cheering for “freedom” the Alexandrians rallied behind a Greek civic value in the context of recent Roman imperial annexation of their city. Later inscriptions suggest that Jews had reserved seats in venues at Miletus and Aphrodisias (IJO 2:15–16; 2:37). Sitting alongside other civic groups, Jews would have vied for their interests in theaters during performances and the public meetings that theaters housed. Jews also participated in theater through acts of euergetism. For example, an inscription from the ruins of the theater at Iasus in Asia refers to Niketas “son of Jason, from Jerusalem” who 792

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contributed one-hundred denarii to a festival of Dionysus featuring theatrical performances (IJO 2:21). Many diaspora Jews experienced no unbearable tension between attending to their civic duties in theaters and their religious lives as Jews. Some Jews even succeeded as actors. In Rome Josephus met the “mime-actor” Aliturus, who had connections to the wife of the theater-loving Nero and hence access to the imperial family (Life 16). Later in the 1st century the poet Martial mentions another Jewish performer named Menophilus (Epigrams 7.82). Jews appeared in more disquieting displays as well. Flaccus led Jews in procession to the theater in Alexandria where they were stripped and whipped before onlookers in 38 ce (Philo, Flacc. 74–80), and after Jerusalem’s destruction in 70 ce, Titus sent Jewish captives to provinces throughout the empire, where they died “in the theaters by sword and by beasts” (Josephus, J.W. 6.418). Many Jews in both the diaspora and Eastern Mediterranean thus participated in various aspects of theater life. This was not necessarily a departure from Judaism nor can a distinction be maintained between diaspora Jews, who attended theater, and Jews in the Eastern Mediterranean, who rejected it. Alongside the critical strain an attitude of accommodation enabled some Jews to attend the shows and to utilize the discursive dynamics of theatrical culture as a means of civic engagement.

Bibliography W. Ameling, ed., Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). [=IJO] J. Jay, “The Problem of the Theater in Early Judaism,” JSJ 44 (2013): 218–53. A. Segal, Theaters in Roman Palestine and Provincia Arabia (Leiden: Brill, 1995). JEFF JAY

Related entries: Bethshean (Scythopolis); Decalogue; Entertainment Structures; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Philo of Alexandria; Persecution, Religious; Romanization.

Theodicy Theodicy, the attempt to explain the existence of evil in the presence of a benevolent God, is a central problem that is addressed in Second Temple works, both explicitly and implicitly (Brand 2013: 25–26). It is not confined to the justification of physical or natural evil but addresses the “moral evil” aspect of the problem as well: If God created human beings, why do they possess a tendency to sin against the will of God? A Sapiential Approach.  Ben Sira’s approach to the question of physical evil includes a dualistic understanding of the world, which must contain contrasting good and evil (Sir 33:7–15) (Winston 1989: 240–1), as well as the idea that evil has been brought into the world in order to punish the wicked (Sir 39:28–31; 40:8–10). Ben Sira includes the sinner in his dualistic system of good and evil (Sir 33:14). However, in his main exposition on the origin of human sin (Sir 15:11–20), i.e., more evil, he directly addresses those who attribute their sin to God and instead ascribes the source of sin to the evil inclination with which humans have been created, an inclination which is nevertheless completely subject to human choice (Brand 2013: 103–6).

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Philo of Alexandria takes drastic measures to distance God from evil, attributing the creation of the “mixed nature” of humans, who are capable of more evil, to other “makers” who collaborated with God (Opif. 72–75; Fug. 68–72, Conf. 168–183; Mut. 30–32) (Winston 1986: 105–6). Elsewhere Philo asserts that tyrants and harmful natural phenomena can serve to punish the wicked (Prov. II. 31–32), but also follows a more philosophical approach when he claims that the good things that the wicked seem to enjoy are only apparent (Prov. II. 16–22). Philo’s approach to moral evil echoes that of Ben Sira, attributing moral evil to humans’ free choice in answer to an imagined audience’s attempt to blame their sins on God (Fug.79–80, see also Deus 50) (Hadot 1970: 93). However, like Ben Sira, Philo is generally pessimistic about humans’ ability to resist evil (Det. 122, Mut. 183–185, Opif. 155) (Brand 2013: 122). The Psalms of Solomon identifies physical evil as the punishment for sin. Even the righteous may be punished both as a test and to purge them of their inevitable sin (Pss. Sol. 13:10, 16:14) (Atkinson 2003: 546–7). Attribution of Evil to Demons.  The attempt to distance evil from God led to a tendency in Second Temple texts to interpret or “rewrite” problematic biblical passages by replacing God with a central demon as the chief actor in the scene. This can be found in early Second Temple texts such as the “revision” of 2 Samuel 24:1 in 1 Chronicles 21:1, where instead of God leading David to sin by counting the people, David is drawn astray by an anonymous “adversary” (‫שטן‬, śāṭān). Similarly, Jubilees (Jub. 48:2) includes a reference to the “Bloody Bridegroom” scene in Exodus 4:24–26 that attributes the attempt on Moses’ life to the evil Mastema rather than to the Israelite God as in the biblical passage (Brand 2013: 183). Throughout Second Temple literature, demons are used to explain evil in the world. One popular “demonic explanation” of evil is the Watchers myth (Brand 2013: 151–68), in which rebellious angels (the “Watchers”) came to earth, taught forbidden knowledge, and mated with human women. The forbidden knowledge led to sin, while the Watchers’ half-breed children, violent giants, remained tied to the earth as evil spirits even after they were killed by divine command. These evil spirits, frequently called “bastards” because they resulted from the illicit union between angel and human, could cause both sin and disease, but particularly sin, as expressed in apotropaic prayers and incantations of the period (cf. 4Q510–511, 4Q444; Brand 2013: 201–6). In addition, central demonic figures are used to explain both why bad things happen to good people and why the righteous are persecuted (as in the curses against Belial found at Qumran in the Community Rule, the War Scroll, and 4QBerakhot; Brand 2013: 239–48). While many texts of the period expect wrongs against the righteous to be corrected on an apocalyptic judgment day, the group associated with the Qumran scrolls was unique in its attribution of evil in the present age to the “dominion of Belial.” According to Qumran thought, during the present age God has given Belial free reign (CD A iv 12–19; 1QS i 16–18,1QM xiv 8–9). This explained the persecution of the Qumran Community in the present day as well as why their interpretation of the law was not universally accepted by the masses (CD A iv 12–19). For the group associated with the scrolls, it was apparently enough to know that the “dominion of Belial” would end with the destruction of Belial and his followers in the eschaton (Brand 2013:279). The Evil Inclination.  The idea that humans have an inclination toward evil while retaining free choice is not confined to Ben Sira and Philo. The Damascus Document exhorts its followers not to 794

Theodotus

follow their own “will” like the sinners of old but instead to follow God’s commandments (Brand 2013: 75–82). The idea that this “evil heart” originated either with Adam or more specifically with Adam’s sin can be found explicitly in texts written soon after the destruction of the Second Temple, particularly in 4 Ezra. The idea that God’s gift of Torah is sufficient to combat this evil inclination is rejected by Ezra in 4 Ezra 3:20–22 (Brand 2013: 130–1). The author of 2 Baruch both echoes the idea that humanity’s sins resulted from Adam’s (2 Bar. 48:42–43) and argues against it, stating, “each of us has been the Adam of his own soul” (2 Bar. 54:19).

Bibliography K. Atkinson, “Theodicy in the Psalms of Solomon,” in Theodicy in the World of the Bible, ed. A. Laato and J. C. de Moor (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 546–75. D. Winston, “Theodicy and Creation of Man in Philo of Alexandria,” in Hellenica et Judaica: Hommage À Valentin Nikiprowetzky, ed. A. Caquot, M. Hadas-Lebel, and J. Riaud, CREJ 3 (Leuven: Peeters, 1986), 105–11. D. Winston, “Theodicy in Ben Sira and Stoic Philosophy,” in Of Scholars, Savants, and Their Texts; Studies in Philosophy and Religious Thought; Essays in Honor of Arthur Hyman, ed. R. Link-Salinger (New York: Peter Lang, 1989), 239–49. MIRYAM T. BRAND

Related entries: Adam and Eve; Baruch, Second Book of; Demons and Exorcism; Determinism; Ezra, Fourth Book of; Fallen Angels; Philo of Alexandria; Righteousness and Justice; Sickness and Disease; Wisdom Literature.

Theodotus Theodotus is an epic poet of whose hexameter poem only eight fragments survive in Eusebius of Caesarea (Praep. ev. 9.22), where Eusebius quotes from Alexander Polyhistor. Eusebius titles Theodotus’ work On the Jews, but such a wide-ranging title clashes with the preserved contents, which deal mainly with the story of Jacob in Shechem (Gen 33–34). Theodotus’ account has some resonance with the Septuagint, but he has recast the story into an epic style. The fragments begin with the founding of Shechem by Sikimius, son of Hermes, and a description of its favorable geography. It quickly moves to its rule under Hamor and his son Shechem, a review of Jacob’s dealings with Laban and the birth of his eleven sons and one daughter, Dinah, and his departure to Shechem. Then follow the rape of Dinah by Shechem and the subsequent pillaging of the city by Levi and Simeon. In retelling this story, Theodotus emphasizes the beauty and special quality of Shechem—it is founded by a son of Hermes (although some scholars emend this to read Hamor), and is a sacred city, both of which are typical epic language to honor cities (Holladay 1989: 135, 144). Yet he also stresses the stubbornness of Hamor and Shechem, that the Shechemites are impious particularly in their treatment of visitors, and that Simeon and Levi begin their attack because of a divine oracle. He also insists that the Hebrews were divinely commanded to be circumcised. Theodotus wrote before the middle of the 1st century bce, i.e. before Alexander Polyhistor, but further precision is difficult. Theodotus’ description of the wall surrounding Shechem reflects its state before falling into disuse, according to excavators, in the mid-2nd century bce. On the other hand, the apologia for the pillaging of Shechem by Simeon and Levi may correlate

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Theophrastus

with the anti-Samaritan policy of John Hyrcanus, which resulted in the destruction of Shechem in 107 bce. Theodotus in this scenario would write before this date. The anti-Samaritan polemic would seem to imply that Theodotus was not a Samaritan, as some have alleged (most recently, Daise 1988).

Bibliography R. J. Bull, “A Note on Theodotus’ Description of Schechem,” HTR 60 (1967): 221–27. J. J. Collins, “The Epic of Theodotus and the Hellenism of the Hasmoneans,” HTR 73 (1980): 91–104. M. Daise, “Samaritans, Seleucids, and the Epic of Theodotus,” JSP 17 (1988): 25–51. H. Jacobsen, “Two Textual Notes on Theodotus,” CQ 57 (2007): 302–3. R. Pummer and M. Roussel, “A Note on Theodotus and Homer,” JSJ 13 (1982): 177–82. ROBERT DORAN

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Versions of the Hebrew Bible and Other Writings.

Theophrastus Theophrastus of Eresos (ca. 371–287 bce), a student of Aristotle and his successor at the Athenian Peripatos, was possibly the first Greek writer to discuss the Judeans. In his history of religion (On Piety, ap. Porphyry, On Abstinence from Animal Food 2.26), Theophrastus writes that the Judeans (Ioudaioi) sacrifice animals in a way that Greeks would disdain, destroying them in fire with honey and wine libations and doing so at night to hide the offense. The Judeans represent a midpoint in his reconstruction of the devolution of human religion: constrained by a lack of vegetable offerings, they were the first to turn (unwillingly) to human sacrifice and then to offer animal victims as substitutes. However, they were not yet so depraved as to eat animal offerings like the Greeks. Perhaps in part because he thought they abstained from sacrificial meat, Theophrastus considered the Judeans to be philosophers, adding that they fast on days between sacrifices, speak to each other about god, observe the stars, and call on the divine through prayers. Theophrastus may have viewed the Judeans as a philosophical elite caste among the Syrians (Satlow 2008). Another scholarly view is that he denigrated the Judeans for cruelly burning their animal victims alive (Bar-Kochva 2010).

Bibliography D. Obbink, “The Origin of Greek Sacrifice,” in Theophrastean Studies: On Natural Science, Physics and Metaphysics, Ethics, Religion, and Rhetoric, ed. W. W. Fortenbaugh and R. W. Sharples, RUSCH III (New Brunswick and Oxford: Transaction Books, 1988), 272–95. M. Satlow, “Theophrastus’s Jewish Philosophers,” JJS 48 (2008): 1–20. JED WYRICK

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Greek Philosophy; Historiography; Sacrifices and Offerings.

796

Therapeutae

Therapeutae Of ancient authors, Philo of Alexandria alone describes Therapeutae, a Jewish ascetic group in De vita contemplativa. Some regard Philo’s idealized account of its austere practices as fiction; most, however, accept that his careful location of Therapeutae above Lake Mareotis near Alexandria (Contempl. 21–22) portrays a real society, embellished by his rhetoric. Noting Essenes as examples of the active life, Philo introduces Therapeutae as models of religiousphilosophical contemplatives (1–3): their title indicates their purpose, to heal (esp. souls) and to worship God. Philo tells how Therapeutae relinquish family and belongings to dwell in solitude (8–23). Inhabiting simple structures (“sanctuary” or “monastery”), they live with sacred books (25). Each sunrise, they pray for mental illumination, each sunset for the soul’s relief from senses (27). By day, they read Scripture and ancestral philosophy, interpreting them allegorically because they reckon the words to be symbols covering hidden meanings (28). This “allegorizing” Philo associates with their “founders,” whose practices Therapeutae mimic as they compose hymns to God (29). Alone for six days, they “philosophize”; on the seventh, they assemble, sitting decently according to age. The eldest and most learned addresses them, while silence reigns (30–31). Women are present, separated from men by a wall that allows both groups to hear without seeing each other (32–33). Self-control undergirds their conduct: they eat nothing before sunset, using light to “philosophize,” darkness for bodily necessities. Some eat nothing for three days, others for six; but the seventh is a festival when together all eat bread, salt, and optional hyssop, drinking spring water (34–37). Housing and clothes are simple (38–39). Unlike pagan banquets (40–63), Therapeutae pursue knowledge and contemplation, as signified by festival gatherings after seven sets of seven days. This forty-ninth day precedes the greatest feast, which 50 represents (64–65), a probable reference to Shavu’ot, and to a pentecontad calendar. Then, white-robed, they pray standing, eyes and hands lifted heavenwards. The elders recline upon wooden couches, with women, “mostly aged virgins,” on the left and men on the right (66–69). They own no slaves, the meal being served by freeborn youths who regard the seniors as parents (70–72). Philo explains the festal meal. There is no meat, just unleavened bread, salt, and hyssop; water, not wine, is served, as wine is forbidden to sacrificing priests (73–74). The presider stands, discoursing on Scripture by means of allegory to reveal the “soul” of the writings; the attentive audience responds with slight gestures (75–77). The assembly applauds, and the presider sings a hymn while the group silently listens, except when singing a refrain (78–80). Then the youths bring the table, which Philo relates to the Showbread table in the Jerusalem Temple with its unleavened loaves, remarking that such food belongs to priests, whom others may emulate without replicating priestly emoluments (81–82). Thereafter they keep vigil, forming two choirs of men and women, respectively; they sing and move harmoniously before combining, imitating the choir at the Red Sea (85–87). Ecstatic, the Therapeutae continue until dawn, standing before the sun and praying for bright days, truth, and sharp-eyed understanding before returning to their “philosophizing” (88–89). Philo praises them as citizens of the cosmos who live in soul alone (90).

797

Tiberias

Some details here recall Philo’s description of Essenes (Prob. 76–82) as avoiding cities, living frugally, rejecting slavery, and sitting in rank each seventh day to “philosophize” allegorically. Therapeutae, however, uniquely allocate central roles in study and worship to women; for their liturgical actions, prophetess Miriam is exemplar, inviting comparison with the Qumran “Song of Miriam” (4Q365). An individual, contemporary manifestation of a piety resembling that of Therapeutae may perhaps be exhibited by the prophetess Anna, described at Luke 2:36–38. The common meals seem indebted to Temple ritual; the details suggesting the similarity may represent Philo’s interpretation of the practices, rather than the practices themselves, although “templization” of meals is found among Essenes (Josephus, J.W. 2.129–133) and the Qumran Yaḥad (1QS vi 4–6; 1QSa ii 17–22). Their calendar appears distinctive, possibly privileging Shavu’ot as “feast of the covenant”: it is so portrayed by Jubilees and repeated mention of salt recalls biblical information about covenant (Lev 2:13; Num 18:19; 2 Chr 13:5). The designation of the “founders” of Therapeutae as ἀρχήγεται (archēgetai) suggests persons of authority; Philo elsewhere uses this term to designate Moses, the Patriarchs, and Jacob (Mos. 1.7, 34, 242). The group thus instantiates particular elements of ascetical piety encountered in the wider world of the Judaism of the 1st centuries bce and ce.

Bibliography R. Kraemer, “Spouses of Wisdom: Philo’s Therapeutrides Reconsidered,” in  Unreliable Witnesses: Religion, Gender, and History in the Greco-Roman Mediterranean (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 57–116. T. H. Lim, The Holy Books of the Essenes and Therapeutae (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013). D. Runia, “The Reward for Goodness: Philo, De Vita Contemplativa 90,” Studia Philonica Annual 9 (1997): 3–18. ROBERT HAYWARD

Related entries: Allegory; Ethics; Greek Philosophy; Josephus, Writings of; Luke-Acts; Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS +5QS); Slavery.

Tiberias Tiberias is located on the southwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee just south of the present-day city of that name. The city was founded between 18 and 20 ce by Herod Antipas (the son of Herod the Great), who made it the capital of his kingdom (see Map 11: Direct Roman Rule [6–66 ce]). The city was named in honor of the Roman emperor Tiberius (ruled between 14 and 37 ce). According to Josephus (Ant. 18.36), Tiberias was located in “the best region of the Galilee” and housed many magnificent buildings such as a royal palace and treasure house, an archive, and a large synagogue (Hirschfeld 1988; Weiss 1988). After the death of Agrippa I, the successor of Herod Antipas (44 ce), the city came under the authority of the Roman procurators of Judea (Josephus, J.W. 2.220). The city lost her capital position under the rule of Agrippa II in 61 ce. The fortification of the city took place in 66 ce as a result of the outbreak of the First Jewish Revolt against Rome (66/67–70 ce; see Map 12a: First Jewish War: Initial Successes [66 ce]) and the city wall remained standing after the surrender to the Roman army (see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]). Subsequent to the death of Agrippa II, the city came under direct Roman rule (cf. Ant. 17.28 with

798

Tiberias

20.159), and during Hadrian’s reign a large temple, called the Hadrianeum, was built in his honor (ca. 120 ce; cf. Epiphanius, Pan. 30,12). During the 2nd century the city was granted the status of a Roman colony and the main Jewish ruling institutes of learning moved to the city from Sepphoris. The city continued to be a major Jewish center long after the Arab invasion and occupation. Tiberias was destroyed in an earthquake in 1033, and since then the ancient area has been deserted. The city was rebuilt just north of the ruins (Hirschfeld 1993). The exploration and excavation of ancient Tiberias was started at the late 19th century with V. Guérin and G. Schumacher surveying and identifying the city wall. The largest excavation was conducted by B. Raban in the ancient municipal area in the mid-1950s and uncovered parts of the city cardo, a bathhouse and a roofed market (Hirschfeld 1993). In the early 1970s a systematic excavation of the southern gate area was conducted by G. Foerster. Over the years several Roman- and Byzantine-period public and private buildings were excavated in the city, among them the southern city gate, a harbor, a basilica, an exedra, synagogues, a theater, and several tombs and residential buildings (Hirschfeld 1992; 1993) (Figure 4.150). Part of the Byzantine city wall was also uncovered by Y. Hirschfeld in the northern part of

Figure 4.150  Roman-Byzantine city plan.

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Tiberius Julius Alexander

the city. In addition to these notable findings, numerous salvage and initiated excavations were conducted in the city that recovered remains dating from the Roman to the Later Islamic periods (Hirschfeld 1993, Hirschfeld and Gutfeld 2008).

Bibliography Y. Hirschfeld, ed. Tiberias-From Establishment to the Muslim Fonquest. Sources, Summaries, Selected Episodes and Reference Materials (Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1988). Y. Hirschfeld, A Guide to Antiquity Sites in Tiberias (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 1992). Y. Hirschfeld, “Tiberias,” NEAEHL (1993), 4:1464–70. Y. Hirschfeld and O. Gutfeld, “Tiberias: Excavations in the House of the Bronzes, Final Report, Volume I Architecture, Stratigraphy and Small finds,” QEDEM 48 (Jerusalem: Hebrew University, 2008). Z. Weiss, “Ancient Synagogues in Tiberias and Hammath,” in Tiberias-from Establishment to the Muslim Conquest. Sources, Summaries, Selected Episodes and Reference Materials, ed. Y. Hirschfeld (Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1988), 34–48. OREN GUTFELD

Related entries: Archaeology (Recent Trends); Architecture; Herodians; Josephus, Writings of; Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Governors.

Tiberius Julius Alexander Tiberius Julius Alexander (flor. late 30s–early 70s ce) was a member of a prominent Jewish family in Alexandria, Egypt, whose successful career in Roman political and military service interweaves the tensions between Jews and the empire in both Egypt and Judea prior to and during the First Jewish War against Rome. His father Alexander was an affluent citizen and alabarchēs (ἀλαβάρχης, customs officer) for Alexandria, who contributed lavishly to Herod’s refurbishment of the Jerusalem Temple (Josephus, Ant. 20.100; J.W. 5.205). His uncle was the biblical exegete Philo of Alexandria (ca. 20 bce–50 ce), and his brother Marcus married Berenice, the daughter of Herod Agrippa I (Josephus, Ant. 19.277). Tiberius abandoned his ancestral religion and hence is cast as the opposing voice in two of Philo’s philosophical dialogues (On Providence 1–2 & Animals). His career includes participation in the embassy to Gaius in response to the Alexandrian pogrom in 38 ce (Philo, Animals 54); a term as procurator of Judea (46–48), where he dealt with famine and executed revolutionaries (Ant. 20.100–102); military service under Corbulo in Armenia in 63 (Tacitus, Annales 15.28); the prefecture of Egypt in 66–69 where he again dealt with Jewish sedition (Josephus, Ant. 2.309, 492–98), and where his two legions were the first to acclaim Vespasian emperor in 69 (Suetonius, Vespasianus 6.3; Tacitus, Historiae 2.74, 79; Josephus, J.W. 4.616–617); and being Titus’ chief of staff in 70 when Jerusalem was captured and the Temple was destroyed (Josephus, J.W. 5.45–46; 6.237). He appears to have finished out his career in imperial service in Rome (Turner 1954: 61–64).

Bibliography E. G. Turner, “Tiberius Iulius Alexander,” JRS 44 (1954): 54–64. RONALD R. COX

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Diaspora; Josephus, Writings of; Roman Emperors; Roman Governors. 800

Timagenes

Timagenes Timagenes of Alexandria was a scholar noted for his role as a liaison between the eastern Mediterranean world and Rome. He was born no later than 80 bce and came to Rome in the 50s, spending most of his life in the households of famous Romans. He survived until the end of the century. Only one of his works is known: On Kings, which survives in 15 fragments. It seems to have been designed to reassert Greek concepts of kingship against Roman political values, a rare example of Greek opposition to the emerging Roman hegemony. Insofar as contemporary Judaism is concerned, Timagenes devoted an extraordinary part of On Kings to the Hasmoneans. One fragment (frag. 4) discusses the attack on the Jerusalem Temple by Antiochos IV in 169 bce; another (frag. 5) examines the character of King Aristoboulos I, and a third (frag. 6) relates the events of the Battle of Asophon between Alexander Jannaeus and Ptolemy IX at the end of the 2nd century bce. Timagenes also educated a younger generation of Greek scholars who developed their own interests in the southern Levant, including Strabo of Amaseia and Nicolaus of Damascus, whose data on the region may derive from the older scholar.

Bibliography G. W. Bowersock, Augustus and the Greek World (Oxford: Clarendon, 1965). J. McInerney and D. W. Roller, “Timagenes of Alexandria,” Brill’s New Jacoby 88, ed. I. Worthington (Leiden: Brill [online], 2016). M. Sordi, “Timagene di Alessandria: uno storico ellenistico e filobarbaro,” ANRW 2.30 (1982): 775–97. DUANE W. ROLLER

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Greek Authors on Jews and Judaism; Hasmonean Dynasty; Hellenism and Hellenization; Ptolemies; Seleucids.

Tithing Tithing (Hebrew ‫מעשר‬, mʿśr, “tenth”; Greek, δεκάτη, dekatē), the presentation of a portion of the year’s agricultural bounty in gratitude to the deity, was part of a larger system of offerings including sacrifices, ‫בכורים‬, bkûrym, ‫ראשית‬, rʾšyt, first shearing, and the heave offering. Tobit 1:6–8 presents the most detailed account of tithing in Second Temple writings. Second Temple writings harmonize contradictory passages discussing tithing in the Torah. In Deuteronomy 14:22–29 tithes include produce, threshed grain, new wine and new oil, and firstborn domestic animals, all consumed by the household in YHWH’s dwelling place; items may also be converted into money to purchase food and drink except every third year, where the tithe is given to Levites, orphans, widows, and resident aliens (cf. Deut 26:12). But in Numbers 18:21, the Levites receive the tithes and offer one-tenth to the priests (Num 18:26–28). In Leviticus 27:30–32 both produce and one-tenth of domestic animals are “holy to YHWH,” understood as gifts to feed Temple personnel. Tithes are also viewed solely as offerings to personnel, esp. Levites, in Malachi 3:10, Nehemiah 10:37–38 (which interestingly includes firstlings), and 2 Chronicles 31:5–6.

801

Tobiads

Postexilic writings within the Hebrew Bible include only tithes given to Levites (Mal 3:10, Neh 10:37–38, 2 Chr 31:32, with Neh 18:12 including singers and gatekeepers), either brought to the Temple or collected by Levites in rural areas (Neh 10:37). In contrast, in some Second Temple writings, in addition to the gifts to Levites (which could be also received by priests per Jub. 13:26–27; Josephus, Life 63; Ant. 20.181/20.206–207), a second tithe is then taken and consumed (LXX Deut 26:12; Tob 1:7, Temple Scroll 11Q19 xliii 22–44:12; Jub. 32:1l, Copper Scroll 3Q15 i 10–11; Josephus, Ant. 4.205; Tg. Ps.-J. to Deut 14:22; cf. m. Maʿaś. Ŝ.) with the conversion option of Deuteronomy 14 (Baumgarten 1985:10–15). The Temple Scroll specifies that it must be eaten on festivals (cf. Tob 1:6; Josephus, Ant. 240) within a year (cf. Jub. 32:11). A third tithe (from Deut 26) is given every third year (fourth and seventh in the seven-year cycle) instead of the second tithe (LXX Deut 26:12), or in addition to the two tithes every third year (m. Maʿaś. Ŝ. 5:6), or possibly every year (Tob 1:8). The Levites’ tithe of a tithe (eaten in Jub. 32:9–10) persists, as does the cattle tithe (cf. 2 Chr 31:6), either given to priests (Tob 1:6–7; 11Q19 xxii 17; Jub. 13:25–26, 32:15; 4QMMT B 63; D [4Q270 2 ii 7–9], Philo, Virt 95; cf. 1QapGen xxii 17) or eaten by the owner (m. Zebaḥ. 5:8). The avowal of Deuteronomy 26:12 made to priests every third year was apparently removed by John Hyrcanus (m. Maʿaś. Ŝ. 5:15), but is mentioned in Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities 4.242–243. Over time, tithed items expanded from produce grown from seed (Deut 14:22; 4Q270 3 ii 17) to include tree fruit (Lev 27:30; 4Q367 iii 6), a 1/50 tithe of wild pigeons and bee honey (11QTa lx 6–9), wild plants (herbs; cf. Matt 23:23 // Luke 11:42), and anything edible (m. Maʿaś. Ŝ. 1:1). The Temple Scroll adds a 1/50 tithe of wild pigeons and bee honey. As tithing became an increasingly heavy burden, it became a key expression of piety and divine favor (Sir 35:11–13; Tob 1:6; 4QLevib ar 3.18; Judg 11:13–15, Matt 23:23 // Luke 11:42; cf. further m. ʾAbot 5:8–9. t. ʿAvod. Zar. iii, 10; b. Ber. 47b; b. Giṭ. 61a).

Bibliography J. M. Baumgarten, “The First and Second Tithes in the Temple Scroll,” in Biblical and Related Studies Presented to Samuel Iwry, ed. A. Kurt and S. Morschauer (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1985), 5–15. NAOMI S. S. JACOBS

Related entries: Agriculture; Coins; Deuteronomy, Book of; Economics in Palestine; Temple Tax; Tribute and Taxes; Wealth and Poverty.

Tobiads Scholars have traditionally regarded the Tobiads as a family of Jews living in Transjordan, probably near the modern site of ̨Araq el-amir, roughly 20 km west of Amman. They are thought to have flourished from the 6th century through the early 2nd century bce. Although Mazar (1957) identified possible ancestors of the Tobiads in the preexilic period, the name first appears in Zechariah (ca. 520 bce), who mentions that Tobiah helped to enthrone the high priest in Jerusalem (Zech 6:9–14). He may have been someone who had returned from the exile, since both Ezra and Nehemiah include the “sons of Tobiah” among those returnees whose ancestry was in doubt (Ezra 2:59–60; Neh 7:61–62). The Persians appointed Nehemiah governor of Yehud (=Judah) around 445 bce. One of his opponents was Tobiah “the Ammonite servant” (or “slave” or “official”) (e.g. Neh 2:10, 19; 802

Tobiads

4:3; 6:1; cf. further 4:3). Tobiah was probably not an Ammonite, but rather the governor of the province of Ammon. He had strong connections to Jerusalem (6:17, 13:4), as did his son (6:18 cf. 3:29, 8:16) and daughter (6:18). The text of Nehemiah suggests that Tobiah played a major role in Jerusalem politics, although he lived and governed east of the Jordan River. The Tobiads next appear in the Zenon papyri (around 259 bce). Zenon was an agent for the Ptolemaic Egyptian government, which ruled Palestine from around 300 to 200 bce. Five papyri letters mention “Toubias,” who was the leader of a military outpost in the territory of Amman. Josephus’ “Tobiad Romance” provides the two longest stories about the family (Ant. 12.156– 222 and 228–236). The first tale follows the adventures of Joseph, son of Tobiah, and the second focuses on Joseph’s son Hyrcanus. These stories are set in the 3rd century bce. While the Romance may be fiction (Gera), it may broadly reflect historical reality (Grabbe 1992). If so, the Tobiad family continued to maintain strong connections both to Egypt and to Jerusalem. After the Seleucid conquest (200 bce) of the region, 2 Maccabees reports that Hyrcanus deposited money in the Jerusalem Temple for safekeeping (3:11), perhaps seeking to shield it from Seleucid tax collectors. The Tobiad family seems to have been destroyed during the Maccabean revolt (166–163 bce) against the Seleucids (1 Macc 5:10–13), for their name does not appear again in extant sources. ̨ Archaeological data supports and supplements the literary sources. Araq el-Amir has long been recognized as the area of the Tobiads’ stronghold: their name is inscribed next to the entrances of two caves, and the monumental building located there, known as the Qasr al-Abd, resembles the building described in the Tobiad Romance (Grabbe 1992: 1.192–98). Scholars debate to what extent the Tobiad family was Jewish. They have long been identified as “hellenizing” Jews based on Toubias’ use of the Greek greeting, “Many thanks to the gods,” found in the Zenon papyri. Indeed, the family was apparently at ease in the Ptolemiac court (according to the Romance), and the Qasr was richly decorated with figural art, depicting lions, jaguars, and eagles. It has even been proposed that they worshiped Aphrodite-Atargatis (Ji 1998). Thus, while the Tobiads were undoubtedly Yahwists, it may be questioned whether they were Jewish in a strict sense (Porter 2007). A related question concerns the function of the Qasr building. It may have served as a place for entertainment and pleasure (Netzer 2000) or, less plausibly, as a mausoleum (Rosenberg 2006). In summary, although the Tobiad family appears to have played a major role in Jerusalem’s politics for centuries, much remains unknown about them.

Bibliography D. Gera, “On the Credibility of the Histories of the Tobiads,” in Greece and Rome in Eretz Israel, eds. A. Kasher, G. Fuks, and U. Rappaport (Jerusalem: Yad Izhad Ben-Zvi, 1990), 21–38. A. L. Porter, “What Sort of Jews Were the Tobiads?” in The Archaeology of Difference: Gender, Ethnicity, Class and the “Other” in Antiquity. Studies in Honor of Eric M. Meyers, ed. C. T. McCollough and D. R. Edwards, ASOR Annual, vols. 60–61 (Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2007), 141–50. ADAM L. PORTER

Related entries: Egypt; Ezra, Book of; Hellenism and Hellenization; Josephus, Writings of; Nehemiah, Book of; Priesthood; Ptolemies. 803

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Tobiah Meaning “YHWH is my good,” Tobiah/Tobiayahu/Tobias refers to a number of historical and literary figures. These include (1) a Levite sent by Jehoshaphat to teach Torah (2 Chr 17:5–9); (2) the ʿebd (‫עבד‬, “servant”) and zrʿ (‫זרע‬, “offspring”) of the king (Lachish letters III; V); (3) a figure in 5th-century bce Nippur business documents; (4) one linked with a crown of high priest Joshua made to remember the Jerusalem Temple (Zech 6:10–14); (5) a returnee unable to prove Israelite ancestry (Ezra 2:59–60, Neh 7:61–62; cf. 1 Esd 5:37); (6) “the Ammonite” and ‘ebd, who with Sanballat, Noadiah, Geshem, Arabs, Ammonites, and Ashdodites opposes Nehemiah’s rebuilding of the Temple (Neh 2:10, 19–20; 3:35; 4:2–15; 6:1–14). This Tobiah also is linked with the Judean nobles Shecaniah son of Arab, Meshullam, and Berechiah (Neh 6:17– 6:19), and the high priest Eliashib, his relative, permits him to store his goods in the Temple, angering Nehemiah (Neh 13:4–9). Tobiah is also (7) a name recurring among the prominent Tobiad family: it is inscribed in their 3rd-century fort, Qasr al-Abd in the Transjordan; it occurs in correspondence between Ptolemy II and his official Apollonius that also refers to “the land of Tobiah” (Tcherikover 1957: 118–28; 1 Macc 5:13; cf. Judg 11:3, 5; 2 Sam 10:6–8); and it denotes a Tobiah who, related by marriage to Onias II, served as tax farmer for Ptolemies and Antiochus III, and who was father of Joseph and grandfather of Hyrcanus (Josephus, Ant. 12.160; contra 2 Macc 3:11; cf. 2 Macc 12:17; Josephus, J.W. 1.31; Ant. 12.239–240; see also m. Ber. 6:7; Roš. 1:7). Finally, (8) perhaps the most well-known and developed figure with this name in the Second Temple period is the “Tobiah” in the Book of Tobit, where Tobiah, presented as the archetypical student, similar to the young man of Proverbs or the main addressee in Musar le-Mevin, is instructed in righteous deeds by his father (Tob 4:3–21) and in medicinal qualities of fish organs by the angel Raphael (6:8–9, 17–18). Tobiah’s refusal to eat before marriage (7:11) parallels his father’s delay to attend to a corpse (2:4). Tobiah’s journey to cure his father matches the ATU 551 folklore motif (Uther 2004: 321), and his struggle with the fish (6:3–5) may be regarded as a rite of passage (Bonora 1993: 43).

Bibliography A. Bonora, Tobia: Dio è provvidenza (Padova: Gregoriana, 1993). H.-J. Uther, The Types of International Folktales: A Classification and Biography, vol. 1 (Helsinki: Academia Scientiarum Fennic, 2004). NAOMI S. S. JACOBS

Related entries: Disability; Egypt; Healing; Nehemiah, Book of; Seleucids; Tobiads.

Torah, Traditioning of The Hebrew word ‫( תורה‬torah) has the basic meaning “teaching, instruction,” and is used in this general sense in various parts of the Hebrew Bible (García López and Fabry 2006). In particular, the Priestly portions of the Pentateuch use torah to refer to specific cultic regulations (e.g. “this is the rule/torah of the burnt offering”; Lev 6:2), and Proverbs uses it to refer to sapiential instruction (e.g. “My son, do not forget my torah/teaching”; Prov 3:1). A different conception, with long-lasting repercussions, appears first in the Book of

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Deuteronomy, according to which torah refers to the divine teachings and commandments preserved in Deuteronomy itself. Thus Deuteronomy 30:10 defines covenantal obedience as fidelity to “his commandments and his statutes that are written in this book of the torah” (see also, e.g., Deut 17:18–19; 29:20; 31:9). In other words, according to Deuteronomy, torah is not simply (divine or human) instruction or teaching in general, but a specific body of instruction revealed by God to Moses and preserved in written form. This “textualization of torah” (Newsom 2004: 24) is also witnessed in the Deuteronomistic History, where “torah of Moses” likewise seems to refer to Deuteronomic law (see, e.g., Josh 8:31; 2 Kgs 14:16; 22:8). References to torah in Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah include citations of or allusions to material found in Priestly texts as well as Deuteronomy, and thus likely reflect knowledge of the combination of the Priestly and Deuteronomic legal corpora in the Pentateuch (e.g. 1 Chr 16:40; 2 Chr 35:12; Neh 8:14; 10:36). The use of terms like “torah of Moses” or “book (of the torah) of Moses” in postexilic compositions like Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah easily can be construed as references to the Pentateuch, or at least to pentateuchal law. If these texts are then taken, as they often have been, as evidence of the “canonization” of the Pentateuch in the early Second Temple period, one might get the impression that the later traditional association of torah with the five books of Moses was already dominant and thus would have been the norm throughout the rest of the Second Temple period. Yet several factors militate against moving too quickly from torah to Pentateuch when dealing with Second Temple texts. First, a broader sense of torah as divine teaching in general persists in the Second Temple period, e.g. in Psalm 119. The psalm explicitly and extensively thematizes the centrality of torah but, as Levenson (1987) has shown, does not understand torah as coterminous with the written commandments found in the Pentateuch. To be sure, for the psalmist torah may include these materials, but it also comprises both the divine law that sustains the cosmos and the wisdom through which God continues to illuminate individuals directly (Levenson 1987: 570). Second, even in Chronicles, Ezra, and Nehemiah, laws or rituals are ascribed to torah that are nowhere found in received versions of the Pentateuch (e.g. the priestly courses of Ezra 6:18 and the wood offering of Neh 10:34). It is possible that in these cases the authors were working with texts of the Pentateuch that differ from the received versions (see below). More likely, however, they were attempting to claim authority for particular practices by presenting them as part of the torah of Moses. In this sense, calling a law, ritual, or practice torah was meant to indicate its authoritative status, not its presence in a specific literary work (Najman 2009: 83). Third, this phenomenon extends beyond the attribution of individual non-pentateuchal laws to torah: the Second Temple period also sees whole compositions or bodies of tradition besides the Pentateuch claiming the status of torah. Book of Jubilees and the Temple Scroll present themselves as revelation to Moses at Mount Sinai and use the terminology of torah to refer to their own contents (Najman 2003: 41–69). Other texts, like the Community Rule and the Damascus Document from Qumran, take a subtler approach. They both refer to the torah of Moses as the foundation for proper behavior. Yet each makes clear that by “torah of Moses” they mean not simply the Pentateuch but also the distinctive rules and practices of the Qumran community. For example, the Rule of the Community requires new initiates to swear an oath “to return to the torah of Moses … everything revealed from the torah according to the council of the 805

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men of the community” (4QSb ix 7–8 // 4QSd i 6–7; cf. 1QS v 8–9). In this way, the community’s regulations are given the status of torah (Zahn 2013: 425–26). Fourth, even if torah is understood in the narrow sense of “Pentateuch,” the exact form in which any given Second Temple author would have accessed the Pentateuch remains unclear. Manuscript evidence from the Qumran scrolls and elsewhere indicates that the books of the Pentateuch circulated in multiple versions during the Second Temple period. Its text was still open to change—sometimes substantial change. Therefore, although in some cases an author appears to use torah to refer to something like the Pentateuch, it cannot be assumed that their Pentateuch would have contained all the material, or only the material, included in the traditional Masoretic version (Wright 2013: 164–65). In all of these senses, then, a broader view of torah as authoritative and/or revealed teaching remained current throughout the Second Temple period. Even as the idea of torah became more and more central to the social and religious culture of the Second Temple period, and ever more closely associated with the person of Moses, it was never reified in a single text.

Bibliography F. García López and H.-J. Fabry, “‫ תו ָֺרה‬tôrâ,” TDOT 15 (2006): 609–46. J. D. Levenson, “The Sources of Torah: Psalm 119 and the Modes of Revelation in Second Temple Judaism,” in Ancient Israelite Religion, ed. P. D. Miller et al. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 559–74. M. M. Zahn, “Torah for ‘The Age of Wickedness’: The Authority of the Damascus and Serekh Texts in Light of Biblical and Rewritten Traditions,” DSD 20 (2013): 410–32. MOLLY M. ZAHN

Related entries: Chronicles, Books of; Deuteronomistic Theology; Ezra, Book of; Jubilees, Book of; Legal Texts (Qumran); Moses Texts from Qumran; Nehemiah, Book of; Pentateuch; Reworked Pentateuch.

Transjordan The geographical term “Transjordan” generally refers to a region in the Levant located east of the Jordan Rift Valley. While the word “Transjordan” itself does not appear in the Bible, it reflects the frequently used Hebrew phrase ‫עבר הירדן‬, ʿbr hyrdn (meaning “across the Jordan” or “beyond the Jordan”). In contrast with Transjordan, another term, “Cisjordan,” refers to territory on this [i.e. the west] side of the Jordan. Occasionally the Bible uses the term corresponding to Transjordan with reference to a westward orientation—i.e. the narrator was in the east speaking about the west. The modern Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan and a portion of southern Syria include, for the most part, the region encompassed by the imprecise term “Transjordan.” Historical accounts of ancient Israel mention the territories and peoples east of the Jordan on numerous occasions, especially Ammon, Moab, and Edom. After Alexander the Great conquered Palestine and Transjordan in 332 bce (Arrian, Anab. 2.24.4–5), his successors, the Ptolemies and the Seleucids, fought for control of the region. Meanwhile, Greeks and hellenized Semites established cities on both sides of the Jordan River. In the middle of the 3rd century bce, Ptolemy II Philadelphus established Philadelphia (modern Amman) on the site of ancient Rabbath-ammon. By the end of the 3rd century, the Seleucids dominated the region. Meanwhile, the Nabataeans—famous for their skills in the long-distance caravan trade and water management—had established a sedentary culture in southern Jordan, centered on the 806

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famous city of Petra. This important people played a major role in the background of the New Testament world, especially through their ties with the Herodian dynasty. Reference to the Nabataean king Aretas IV, Damascus, and the Apostle Paul (2 Cor 11:32–33) reflects Nabataean influence. Trajan annexed the Nabataean realm in 106 ce and created the province of Arabia. His famous Via Nova Traiana ran the full length of Transjordan—including much of the Nabataean kingdom—from Bostra in southern Syria to the Roman port on the Red Sea, Aila (modern Aqaba). After the Maccabean revolt led to Hasmonean sovereignty, Alexander Jannaeus and John Hyrcanus II captured—and Judaized—parts of Transjordan, including the area just beyond the river valley (in what became known as Perea). The Roman general Pompey the Great entered the region to settle a dynastic dispute and took control of Syria, Palestine, and part of Transjordan in 64–63 bce. He promoted the development of the region’s Greek cities, including the members of the Decapolis. The latter began with nine cities in northern Jordan and southern Syria—with one additional (the tenth) city on the west side of the Jordan Valley, at Bethshean/Scythopolis. These important settlements had religiously mixed populations and displayed numerous aspects of Greco-Roman culture. Remains of an elaborate Byzantine-era synagogue at Gerasa (modern Jerash) point to the presence of a significant number of Jews in this Decapolis city. Information about the Decapolis comes from various ancient sources; the earliest references to these cities appear in the Gospels (Matt 4:25; Mark 5:20; 7:31), which link Jesus’ ministry with this region. Numerous synagogues in the Golan also date to this period and reflect the nature of Jewish settlement in this part of southwestern Syria. Transjordan has significant links with the Second Temple period through events associated with the region of Perea (Περαία, Peraia) (cf. Graf 2017). Like “Transjordan,” the name “Perea” does not appear in the New Testament (except in a variant reading of Luke 6:17), though it appears in other ancient sources. In fact, Josephus referred to it frequently and noted that it was a focal point of Jewish life. As in the designation Transjordan, Perea points to a territory “beyond” (the Jordan River), as in “to the east of the Jordan.” While the name Perea does not appear in the New Testament, the Greek phrase πέραν τοῦ Ἰορδάνου, peran tou Iordanou (“beyond/across the Jordan”) occurs eight times (Matt 4:15, 25; 19:1; Mark 3:8; 10:1; John 1:28; 3:26; 10:40). As a group, these verses report that Jesus was well known in Perea. People came from the eastern side of the Jordan to hear him, and he went there on occasion, even as the Gospels report that Jesus traveled to the Decapolis region and outside of Judea and Galilee. John 1:28 states that John the Baptist conducted some of his ministry in Perea/Transjordan and that Jesus was baptized there (cf. John 10:40). Manuscript variants offer tantalizing references to the specific location where this took place (cf. Schnackenburg 1990: 1.295–96). Josephus (J.W. 3.44–47) provides valuable details regarding the boundaries of Perea. This Transjordanian district ran from the Decapolis city of Pella, in the north, to the fortress of Machaerus, in the south—a distance of ca. 65 miles. From the Jordan River, Perea extended into the highlands ca. 15 miles, at its widest point. This corresponds to portions of ancient Gilead and Moab, and the tribal territories of Reuben, Gad, and Manasseh overlapped in Jewish Perea. Along with Pella and Machaerus, other important settlements—with close Jewish association— included Amathus, Zia, Gadara (not the Decapolis city), Betharamphtha/ Livias, and Callirrhoe/ Zereth-shahar. Perea was part of Herod the Great’s kingdom, and Herod Antipas inherited it after his father’s death. Herod Antipas had John the Baptist executed at Machaerus. Agrippa I 807

Tribute and Taxes

and Agrippa II acquired this valuable region; at Agrippa II’s death, the territory was added to the Roman province of Syria (cf. Kokkinos 2015). The strong Jewish identity of Perea made it possible for travelers and pilgrims to bypass Samaria by crossing into and out of Perea at major fords of the Jordan (cf. John 4:3–4). Even the Mishnah (m. Ŝeb. 9.2) recognized Judah, Transjordan, and Galilee as the three regions where Judaism was practiced during the Second Temple period. During the First Jewish Revolt, resistance in Perea caused Vespasian to subdue this district. This, in turn, motivated many Jews to leave the area and take up residence in the diaspora. According to Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 3.5.3), the Christians of Jerusalem were warned by special revelation to flee to Pella, in Perea, before the Romans destroyed Jerusalem.

Bibliography D. Graf, “The Rise and Fall of the Peraia,” Aram 29.2 (2017): 413–46. N. Kokkinos, “An Approach to Herodian Peraea,” in Viewing Ancient Jewish Art and Archaeology, ed. A. E. Killebrew and G. Fassbeck, JSJSup 172 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 271–90. R. Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to John, trans. K. Smyth, 3 vols. (New York: Crossroad, 1990). GERALD L. MATTINGLY

Related entries: Diadochi; Hellenism and Hellenization; Herodians; Jesus of Nazareth; John, Gospel of; Josephus, Writings of; Nabatea.

Tribute and Taxes During the Second Temple period taxation in multiple forms was a firmly established fact of life. All ancient empires had intricate systems of collecting money for the upkeep of their infrastructure and for their administration and military needs. There were different levels of taxation, and usually dues were paid to local and foreign officials. This was almost always the case for Yehud/Judah/Judea, where Persians, Hellenistic rulers (both Ptolemaic and Seleucid), and Romans subsequently imposed their tax systems (Adams 2014: 128–82). During the semiindependence of Judea after the Maccabean revolt the Hasmoneans also collected money for their military and administrative needs. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah reflect the situation under Persian rule and give indications of the tax burden (Ezra 4:13; 7:24; Neh 5:4–5). The extended passage in Nehemiah 5 clearly describes the vulnerable economic and social position of small landowners, who lived under economic pressure due to famine, high interest rates, and taxation. This was not only the case in Judah but was true for the entire Mediterranean area. Famines could require small landowners to mortgage fields, vineyards, and houses simply to stay alive. Selling oneself or one’s children into debt slavery was another tragic step that was sometimes necessary. Throughout this period the Jerusalem Temple also levied money and supplies to function properly. The priestly classes, led by the high priest, demanded tithes and tributes from the Jewish population in Yehud/Judah/Judea (cf. Neh 10:32–39). Emerging diaspora communities contributed by collecting the Temple Tax locally and sending the money to Jerusalem (Philo, Legat. 156–157, 216, 291, 312–316; Josephus, Ant. 16.160–174). This Temple Tax consisted of half a shekel per year and was paid by male Jews over 20, though priests and Levites were exempt. Besides paying the Jerusalem Temple Tax, Jews in the growing diaspora also faced imperial

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and local taxation, which is best illustrated by the evidence found in Egypt. Receipts for the centralized poll tax and land tax have been found, as have, e.g., receipts for local dyke, wine, bath, and police taxes, which were collected from Jewish taxpayers (CPJ I, 1957 and CPJ II, 1960). During the Roman period tax farming was a feature of the economic system in the provinces. So called publicani paid a fixed sum to the state and could make a profit if they collected more than this amount from the local population. These were typically indirect taxes like custom duties (Günther 2016). In this system of tax farming a hierarchy of tax collectors developed, with the lowest layer consisting of local people. New Testament stories mention a number of these people: Matthew (Matt 9:9–13), Levi (Mark 2:13–17), and Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1–10) seem to have belonged to this class of tax collectors. They possessed a very low social status among their own people, as these stories demonstrate. In the New Testament they are often considered to possess the same moral status as prostitutes and other “sinners” (e.g. Matt 21:32). Led by Judas of Galilee, a resistance movement began in 6 ce when Judea came under direct Roman rule and a census was imposed by Quirinius for tax purposes. Jews were encouraged not to register, and according to Josephus, this was the start of the “fourth philosophy,” which he blames for the later war with the Romans that started in 66 ce (J.W. 2.117; Ant. 18.23). Different Jewish groups, then, had different views on paying foreign taxes and the “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar” story about Jesus should probably be read in this light (“Now then, is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Should we pay them or not?” Mark 12:13–17; cf. Matt 22:15–22 and Luke 20:20–26; see also Udoh 2006). With regard to the end of the Second Temple period, it is very likely that pressure from the emperor Nero in Rome to increase the imperial revenues through taxation was one of the major factors in the outbreak of the Jewish revolt in 66 ce. Procurator Gessius Florus showed “unprecedented aggression in collecting taxes” (Mason 2016: 316), also taking huge sums of money directly from the Temple treasury in Jerusalem (Josephus, J.W. 2.293–294). These actions set in motion a complex series of incidents of protest, violence, atrocities, and unarmed and armed resistance in Judea and elsewhere that ultimately led to the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce.

Bibliography S. L. Adams, Social and Economic Life in Second Temple Judea (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014). S. Günther, “Taxation in the Greco-Roman World: The Roman Principate,” in Oxford Handbooks Online (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). F. E. Udoh, To Caesar What Is Caesar’s: Tribute, Taxes, and Imperial Administration in Early Roman Palestine (63 BCE–70 CE) (Providence: Brown Judaic Studies, 2006). MARIUS HEEMSTRA

Related entries: Economics in Palestine; Hasmonean Dynasty; Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; LukeActs; Matthew, Gospel of; Persian Period; Romanization; Roman Governors; Temple Tax; Wealth and Poverty.

Universalism History of Research.  “Universalism,” and its corollary “particularism,” is a scholarly construct first introduced during the 19th century by F. C. Baur as a way to describe early Christianity. Baur 809

Universalism

alleged that Paul first conceptualized Christianity in universal terms, in contrast to a Jewish particularism based on ethnic-national identity. Moreover, Baur thought that Paul, by proclaiming baptism for all into one body in one spirit (1 Cor 12:13), superseded Judaism as a form of religion defined by exterior rites and statutes. Baur’s antithesis remains influential (Boyarin 1994: cf. Holtz 2007: 4–5), though J. D. Levenson (1985) has articulated a more nuanced position by positing two distinct forms of universalism in Second Temple Judaism and early Christianity. The first entails a group that is “willing or eager to extend its particularity indefinitely” and thus “accepts proselytes” or converts (Levenson 1985: 145). This phenomenon is sometimes called “inclusivism” or “universalization.” “Particularism,” by definition, amounts to an exclusivist renunciation of the extension of particularity. The second form refers to eschatological “universalism” in the sense that “human variety will disappear altogether or submit permanently to an all-inclusive structure” (Levenson 1985: 145). This understanding makes it possible to describe the phenomenon of “universalism” in a manner that allows for the diversity of conceptions within Second Temple Judaism. Second Temple Traditions. Second Temple “universalist” tendencies show the influence of similar ideas found in the Hebrew Bible. Genesis begins with a universal perspective, the creation of heaven and earth, with the earth being the realm of humankind, and humans, male and female, being created in the image of God (Gen 1). This perspective is reiterated in the eternal covenant made with Noah (9:8–17). Abraham’s calling includes his mediation of God’s blessings to the nations (12:1–3). The book of Jonah narrates God’s mercy on the pagan city of Nineveh. The nonIsraelites Melchizedek (14:18) and Jethro (Exod 18:12) are described as priests who officiate on behalf of God. Solomon’s Jerusalem Temple is open to foreigners (1 Kgs 8:41–43). Ruth, a Moabite, is the ancestor of David (Ruth 1:4; 4:17). Trito-Isaiah reflects on the possibility of non-Jews adopting the worship of the God of Israel (56:1–8). By contrast, a number of traditions presuppose a chosen status of Israel that excludes the possibility of any participation therein by other peoples (e.g. Deut 7:1–6; Neh 13:23–28; Ezra 9–10). Some Second Temple writings also reflect exclusivist and inclusivist conceptions, though of a different kind. In early Jewish tradition, universalization in terms of the willingness to extend the particularity of a social entity negotiates with particularist elements of law and ritual that define the borders of the respective community. Writings that manifest inclusivist tendencies often redefine or diminish the importance of identity derived from descent (e.g. Philo, Spec. 1.51–52; 4.159; Virt. 102–104; 187–227 [Holtz 2007: 452–73]; T. Ab. 1:2; T. Ab. Rec A 11:9; Test XII; Ps-Phoc.; b. Yoma 71b; Matt 3:9; Rom 9:6–13). They also share the conviction that the law applies not only to Israel or to one of its subgroups, as is for instance the case with the community behind the Rule of the Community (e.g. 1QS i 1; v 1; viii 12–16), but it is also intended for a larger group, i.e. for Israel as a whole (e.g. 4QMMT C 26–32; CD A iii 13–16; A xv 5, 8–9; A xvi 1; Holtz 2007: 318–23) or even the nations (e.g. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.281–284; Philo, Mos. 2.44; Virt. 119-120; cf. Rom 2:14–15; 3:19–20; 13:8, 10). Inclusivism is manifested in two primary ways, in law-related models of reaching out to outsiders and in the programmatic leveling of differences between Jews and gentiles. Three kinds of law-related models can be distinguished. The first is the model of the sons of Noah, which dates to the 2nd century bce. It assumes two versions of the one biblical law: the Torah with its laws and

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regulations for Israel and the so-called Noachidic laws that, according to Jewish conviction, are binding for gentiles. The Noachidic laws vary in number and content. Some traditions presume that abiding by them is sufficient for eschatological salvation (Jub 7:20–21; Sib. Or. 4.24–39; t. Sanh. 13:2; 1 Cor 6:9–10; cf. also Acts 15:19–21, 29; 21:24–25; cf. Donaldson 2007: 480, 498). The second model involves a kind of semi-conversion or sympathization (Donaldson 2007: 469–482) in which non-Jews embrace monotheism and the ethical law of Judaism, and to varying degrees observe Jewish festivals and rituals, which are part of the law specifically addressed to Jews (e.g. Philo, Mos. 2.20–24; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.282–283). Third, still other traditions envisage proselytism characterized by the following elements: the adoption of the whole law including circumcision, exclusive worship of the one God, and full integration into the Jewish community. This model is widely attested in the Second Temple period (Philo, Leg. 1.51–52, 308; Praem. 152), Josephus (Ag. Ap. 2.209–210; Ant. 20.43–46) and in certain strands of Pharisaism and Tannaitic Judaism (e.g. Matt 23:15; t. Demai 2:5; b. Bek. 30b; b. Šabb. 31a; MekhJ Jethro 2). In early Christianity it was propagated by pharisaically influenced Jewish Christians (Gal 5:3; Acts 15:5). The leveling of differences between Jews and gentiles or ethical monotheism is characteristic of diaspora Judaism (Donaldson 2007: 493–98), where there is just one law for Jews and gentiles. Though unrelated to the law of Moses, the law in view is roughly comprised of regulations that make up the Noachidic laws, such as the renunciation of idolatry, regulations for sex, and social ethics (cf. Sib. Or. 3–5; T. 12 Patr.; Ps.-Phoc.). This conception implies a downgrading of the nonethical biblical laws incumbent upon Israel. Moreover, Philo (Migr. 89–93) mentions a group which, in interpreting regulations of the law symbolically, gave up the practice of the ritual laws including circumcision, yet without renouncing Judaism. Eschatological “universalism” is found in the major strands of Second Temple literature. In most text groups “universalist” eschatological hope goes together with more exclusive conceptions. When adopting an anthropological perspective, the vast number of eschatological texts in the Qumran sectarian corpus claim salvation and perishing to be dependent upon human behavior in pre-eschatological time: Those abiding by the law and the rules of the Qumran Community are said to be saved, while the rest, non-Qumranite Israel and the nations, are said to perish (e.g. 1QS iv 2–14; 1QM i 1–9). Similar concepts are found in apocalyptic literature (e.g. 1 En. 10:9–17; 91; 2 En. 65; 4 Ezra 7:104–105). The Pauline letters display a similar pattern, formulating, however, a new criterion for salvation and calamity, namely belief (e.g. Rom 1:16–17; Gal 3:6–14). This type of eschatology falls under eschatological “particularism.” Nevertheless, when adopting a theocentric perspective, the very same writings proclaim the eschatological transformation of creation and humankind, which also can be specified in terms of both Israel and the nations. According to some traditions this transformation will be accompanied by God’s judgment (e.g. 1QS iv 18–26; 1QHa xix 15–27; 1 En. 10:9–11; T. Jud. 24–25; 1 Cor 15:24–28). The aim of transformation is the universal acknowledgment of God, culminating in the unification of all humankind in the praise of God (e.g. 1QHa xix 22–25; 1 En. 10:21; T. Jud. 24:6; Rom 15:7–12; Phil 2:10–11; Holtz 2007: 178–88). A specific version of eschatological “universalism” can be discerned in Philo, who does not limit his expectations to Jews and proselytes but rather entertains a universal hope mediated to the nations by the Jewish people. This hope consists in the unity of humankind under the Jewish law (esp. Mos. 2.43–44).

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Against this background, it is clear that eschatological “universalism” pervades Second Temple Judaism, from apocalyptic and Qumranic traditions through to Tannaitic sources. Paul shares this strand while, however, attributing a specific role to Jesus Christ (Holtz 2007; Sherwood 2013).

Bibliography F. C. Baur, Paulus, der Apostel Jesu Christi. Sein Leben und Wirken, seine Briefe und seine Lehre. Ein Beitrag zu einer kritischen Geschichte des Urchristenthums (Stuttgart: Becher & Müller, 1845). D. Boyarin, A Radical Jew. Paul and the Politics of Identity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994). G. Holtz, Damit Gott sei alles in allem. Studien zum paulinischen und frühjüdischen Universalismus, BZNW 149 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007). J. D. Levenson, The Universal Horizon of Biblical Particularism (New York: American Jewish Committee, 1985). A. Sherwood, Paul and the Restoration of Humanity in Light of Ancient Jewish Traditions, EJEC 82 (Leiden: Brill, 2013). GUDRUN HOLTZ

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Election; Ethics; Gentiles, Jewish Attitudes toward; Jesus Movement; Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT); Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS +5QS); Sectarianism.

Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 ce; Kitos War) Inscriptions, papyri, and a literary tradition including pagan, Christian, and Jewish sources record that in the late spring of 116 ce, simultaneous uprisings erupted in several parts of the Jewish diaspora (see Map 1: Greater Mediterranean Region). On their causal background, however, the witnesses provide no clue. They only state that in Egypt, in Cyrenaica, and in Cyprus the Jews attacked their Greek and Roman neighbors (Dio Cassius 68.32.1; Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 4.2.1–5). They were led by a certain Artemion in Cyprus, and in Cyrenaica and Egypt by Andreas according to Dio Cassius (68.32.1–3) or Lucuas according to Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 4.2.4), who attributes to him the title “King.” In the course of the fighting the country was plundered, its districts ravaged; waterways were seized (in Egypt) and public monuments were damaged, such as the burial place of Pompey in Alexandria (Appian, Bell. civ. 2.90.380) and at Cyrene, the local Caesareum and several temples, which were later restored by Hadrian (SEG IX, 168, 252; XVII, 804). From the papyri it emerges that at first the Jews were successful (CPJ II, 438). Later, however, Trajan sent one of his best generals against the rebels, Q. Marcius Turbo, with both sea and land forces, including cavalry, “who waged war vigorously in many battles for a considerable time and killed many thousands of Jews, not only those of Cyrene but also those of Egypt” (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 2.3–4). Roman forces included the legio III Cyrenaica, the legio XXII Deiotariana, and the cohors I Augusta praetoria Lusitanorum equitata (Pucci Ben Zeev 2005: 176–86). In Cyprus, the repression was quelled by C. Valerius Rufus (ILS III, 9491). All the revolts were crushed by September 117 (Pucci Ben Zeev 2005: 153–56). The pagan, Christian, and Jewish sources all emphasize the huge number of casualties. In Egypt, the land

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which had belonged to Jews was confiscated and managed by a special “Jewish logos” (CPJ II, 445, 448; SB 12, 10893) (Pucci Ben Zeev 2005: 186–90) and an annual festival was instituted in commemoration of the victory over the Jews (CPJ II, 450). In Cyprus, the Jews may have been banished from the country. Dio writes that “no Jew may set foot on this island, but if one of them is driven onto its shores by a storm, he is put to death” (68.32.3). In Mesopotamia, on the other hand, where the Romans were engaged in a war against the Parthians, the situation was completely different. Here, the Jews appear to have participated in a revolt along with their neighbors that was meant to prevent the Roman conquest of the country, an event which would have endangered the measure of freedom they enjoyed under the Parthians. Eusebius writes that Trajan “ordered Lusius Quietus to clean them [the Jews] out of the province. He organized a force and murdered a great multitude of Jews there” (Hist. eccl. 4.2.5) (Pucci Ben Zeev 2005: 207–12). A military campaign took place in Judea as well, according to a funerary inscription from Sardinia (AE 1929, 167). Rabbinical literature mentions the martyrdom of two brothers, Lulianus and Pappus, by Trajan at Laodicaea (Horbury 1999: 289–95), and the consequences of the so-called “War of Qitos” (m. Soṭah 9:14) (Pucci Ben Zeev 2005: 99–102; 234–44). This Qitos is to be identified with Lusius Quietus who, according to Dio Cassius, was sent by Trajan to Judea after his action against Mesopotamian Jews (Horbury 2014: 259). Here, according to Hippolytus (Hippolytus on Matthew 24:15–22), he “erected an idol in the Jerusalem Temple area, called Kore,” a measure probably meant to strengthen Roman authority by affirming the pagan character of Jerusalem. This may have prompted negative reactions among the Jews, and, in a tense situation, any disturbance, even by a few individuals, may have brought about massive reprisals by the Roman forces. Late Christian sources attest that Trajan sent “a general with great military forces to Jerusalem and that on that occasion an enormous number of Jews were killed” (Eutychius, Annales 9.15). Consequently, Judea, formerly a praetorian province, attained the status of provincia consularis, and an additional legion, the legio II Traiana, was permanently stationed in the country (Pucci Ben Zeev 2005: 250–52).

Bibliography W. Horbury, “Pappus and Lulianus in Jewish Resistance to Rome,” in Jewish Studies at the Turn of the Twentieth Century, vol. 1: Biblical, Rabbinic and Medieval Studies, Proceedings of the Sixth EAJS Congress, Toledo, July 1998, ed. J. Targarona Borrás and A. Sáenz–Badillos (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 289–95. M. Pucci Ben Zeev, Diaspora Judaism in Turmoil, 116/117 CE: Ancient Sources and Modern Insights (Leuven: Peeters, 2005). MIRIAM BEN ZEEV

Related entries: Persecution, Religious; Resistance Movements; Roman Generals; Romanization.

Uriel Uriel (‫אוריאל‬, ʾUraʾel) stands as one of the primary archangels mentioned in parabiblical and Jewish literature. The etymology of the name is not clear, but two possibilities are suggested from the Hebrew: ‫( אור‬ʾur) “[God is] fire” or ‫( אור‬ʾor) “[God is] light” (cf. Berner 2007: 400; Yigael 1962: 239). 813

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Uriel is occasionally found in lists of archangels in Second Temple literature. In 1 Enoch 20:2 he appears at the forefront of seven archangels, while he is found as the second of a tetrad in the Greek versions of 1 Enoch 9:1 (as well as in some Ethiopic manuscripts, which contain only three names). The Apocalypse of Moses (40:2) positions Uriel as the third of four archangels, while a parallel passage in the Life of Adam and Eve (48:1, 3) places him in tandem with only Michael. In 3 Baruch 4:7, he is the third member of a quintet. Although a detailed listing is not provided, the Prayer of Joseph (A:7) declares Uriel to be the ninth most important angel. Elsewhere, however, the name does not occur. For example, in the Enochic Similitudes, Phanuel is found in place of Uriel in such lists (1 En. 40:9; 54:6; 71:8–9, 13). The relationship of Sariel to Uriel is an even more complex matter. The former occurs instead of the latter at 1 Enoch 9:1 in Aramaic (4QEnb 1 iii 7; a derivative form of the name is also present in some Ethiopic manuscripts), and an identical quartet of Michael, Gabriel, Sariel, and Raphael is found, e.g., in 1QM ix 15–16 (cf. Milik 1976: 30). Uriel’s most prevalent and longstanding role during the Second Temple period is that of an angelus interpres, as both guide to the celestial world and revealer of divine knowledge. This role is first attested in the Astronomical Book, wherein he is stated explicitly to be the master of the heavenly luminaries (72:1, 74:2, 75:3, 79:6; cf. 21:5). In keeping with his august position, Uriel shows Enoch the inner workings of the cosmos, including the course of the moon (74:2) and the sun (75:4) and their illumination (78:10), all of which work according to a solar calendar (esp. 82:6–7). Toward the end of the book, he also prophesies about the eschaton (80:1). Both of these major elements are picked up in the Book of Watchers. Uriel is again intimately associated with the heavenly luminaries (21:5, 33:3), but occupies an even more prominent role as the answerer of Enoch’s questions about cursed and dreadful otherworldly things which he sees (21:5, 21:9, 27:2). In the late Second Temple period, Uriel continues to function as an angelus interpres within apocalyptic literature, serving as the primary angelic intermediary in 4 Ezra. Throughout much of the first part of the book, he is the primary counterpart to Ezra, interpreting the latter’s visions and instructing him in the ways of God (chap. 4). Only once in the second half of the book does Uriel appear, however, rejoining Ezra and again interpreting his vision upon the scribe’s plea (10:28–59). In the Sibylline Oracles (2.227–237) Uriel is charged with overseeing the last times and, in addition, is presented as the one who will break the gigantic bolts of the gates of Hades. In the Apocalypse of Elijah (5:5), accompanied by Gabriel, Uriel serves as light for the resurrected ones. The name Uriel is physically attested nowhere among the Dead Sea Scrolls, though it seems likely that originally it would have been included within at least some of the Enochic manuscripts. It is possible, however, that the title “Prince of light” (‫שר המאור‬, śar ha-meʾor) in 1QM xiii 10 might be identified with the archangel.

Bibliography C. Berner, “The Four (or seven) Archangels in the First Book of Enoch and Early Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception, ed. F. V. Reiterer, T. Nicklas, and K. Schöpfin (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007), 395–411. AMSALU TEFERA

Related entries: Angels; Astronomical Book (1 Enoch 72–82); Book of Parables (1 Enoch 37–71); Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36); Calendars; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Sibylline Oracles 1–2; Sun and Moon; War Scroll (1QM + 4QM Documents). 814

Valerius Maximus

Valerius Maximus Valerius Maximus (flor. ca. 27–31 ce) was a Roman author whose work is suffused with deep (albeit highly rhetorical) religious devotion toward Rome and Roman institutions, history, religion, customs, and values. Prominent throughout Valerius’ work is a religious reverence for the Caesars and the imperial family. Valerius even treats living members of the imperial family as gods. His sole surviving work, Facta et dicta memorabilia (Memorable Deeds and Sayings), collects more than 1,000 historical anecdotes (termed exempla and documenta) intended as paradigms for correct conduct, the elementa virtutis (Val. Max. 3.init.). Valerius derives much material from Cicero, Livy, and Varro, and his work is thus frequently mined for historical data. He retells anecdotes, however, in his own rhetorical style and literary voice, and, if read closely, provides crucial evidence for early imperial religious values (Mueller 2002). Valerius’ treatment of the Jews may illustrate his general method in an early imperial context. There is evidence that during the reign of Tiberius some 4,000 Jews were banished to Sardinia for proselytizing (Josephus, Ant. 18.81–84; Suetonius, Tib. 36; Dio Cassius 57.18.5; cf. Hennig 1975: 160–79, on Sejanus’ related anti-Semitic policies). What remains of Valerius’ anecdote (in epitome) on the expulsion of Chaldeans and Jews appears to reflect these contemporary events with historical examples of similar punishments inflicted on those who had in prior ages undermined Roman ancestral custom: Gnaeus Cornelius Scipio Hispallus, during his praetorship in 139 bce, expelled the worshipers of “Sabazian Jupiter” (i.e. Jews; cf. Lane 1979) from Rome (along with Chaldean astrologers) because they had tried to promulgate their rites (sacra) among Romans (Val. Max. 1.3.2[3]). This example, which represents the extent of Valerius’ commentary on Jews and Judaism, illustrates the author’s main literary goals. His work uses history to document what Romans do when they act according to Roman values, and how they mercilessly punish what they perceive as un-Roman vice.

Bibliography D. L. Hennig, Aelius Seianus: Untersuchungen zur Regierung des Tiberius (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1975). E. N. Lane, “Sabazius and the Jews in Valerius Maximus: A Re-Examination,” JRS 69 (1979): 35–38. H.-F. Mueller, Roman Religion in Valerius Maximus (London: Routledge, 2002). HANS-FRIEDRICH MUELLER

Related entries: Conversion and Proselytism; Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism; Persecution, Religious; Roman Emperors; Romanization.

Varro, Marcus Terentius Varro, a Roman statesman and scholar, was born in 116 bce, according to Jerome (Chron. 147), though the accuracy of this date is doubtful (Drummond 2013). Augustine places his birth in Rome (Civ. 4,1), but this is likewise disputed (cf. Symmachus, Epist. 1.2, who calls him a native of Reate). Varro was a student of the philologist L. Aelius Stilo and studied in Athens under Antiochus of Ascalon (Sallmann 2002). He was a prolific writer of various genres (cf. the incomplete list of 55 works in Jerome, Epist. 33.1–2 = T1 in FRH Drummond 2013). Aelius Gellius relates that he penned 490 (seven times 70) works, but this idealized number is suspect.

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Only two of Varro’s works are extensively preserved, though a handful of others are known from scattered quotations (Stern 1974: 207–12). Although Varro’s statements on Judaism are sparse, they are important for gauging sympathy for Jewish views among pagans in antiquity. Two summaries of Varro’s views, taken from Res Divinae in the latter part of his Antiquitatum rerum humanarum et divinarum, are preserved by Augustine. According to one, Varro commends the imageless worship of the gods practiced by the early Romans and adduces the Jewish race as a positive example for such devotion (Civ. 4.31 = GLAJJ 72a). This knowledge about the imageless worship of the Jews was seemingly common in Rome since Pompeius (Tacitus, Ann. 5.9). In Augustine’s other reference (Cons. 1.22.30 = GLAJJ 72b), Varro is said to have equated Jupiter with the Jewish God.

Bibliography A. Drummond, “52  M. Terentius Varro,” in The Fragments of Roman Historians, vol. 1, Introduction, ed. T. J. Cornell, 3 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 1:412–23. K. Sallmann, “V. Terentius, M.,” in Der Neue Pauly 12/1 (Stuttgart: Metzler, 2002), 1130–44. LUKE NEUBERT

Related entries: Gentile Attitudes toward Jews and Judaism; Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism.

Violence Violence in the Second Temple period is both a historical reality and a conceptual category. As a historical reality, violence is ever present as a result of frequent wars with outsiders and many instances of intra-Jewish conflict. As a conceptual category, violence is often the object of imagined reflection by Jewish writers in response to their social worlds. Violence takes on many forms (Schmidt and Schröder 2001). A restrictive definition focuses solely on violence related to bodily harm or death, including physical attack, murder, rape, domestic abuse, slavery, banditry, state-sanctioned executions, and self-inflicted harm. A more inclusive approach includes a range of non-physical activity, such as verbal abuse, aggression, hate speech, and bullying. Violence at times may also be directed toward non-human entities, such as the attack on physical structures which is often part of larger display of power and intimidation. Moreover, violent acts have a prehistory that exists in the realm of thought and imagination. At times, violent imagination translates into practical violence, while at other times it does not. Indeed, it is often difficult to disentangle imagined depictions of violence from historical representations of violence. The evidence from the Second Temple period reflects instances of violence across this broad spectrum and includes both real and imaginary violence. Seleucid violence directed at Judea and Jews in the first half of the 2nd century bce and its Jewish responses provide a good example of the variegated nature of violence as a historical reality and a conceptual category. The relevant sources—most notably 1 and 2 Maccabees—do not agree on the root sources of the violent encounter or even the basic outline of the unfolding of violence. Scholars have debated whether the Hasmonean revolt was initiated in response to Seleucid violence or began first as a civil war in which the Seleucid forces only later intervened. Portier-Young has argued that the beginnings of the Seleucid violence can be traced to the former high priest Jason’s revolt against the current

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Violence

high priest Menelaus, which occurred in 169 or 168 bce (Portier-Young 2011: 126–39). This intra-Jewish conflict was both a civil war and a revolt against the Seleucid Empire. Portier-Young notes that Jason’s revolt was over before Antiochus IV even arrived in Jerusalem with his army. She therefore argues that the revolt served as a pretense for Antiochus IV to recreate his empire through the violent reconquest of Jerusalem. Antiochus IV subsequently initiates a program of state terror directed toward the Jews in Judea (Portier-Young 2011: 140–75). As observed by Portier-Young, this involves massacre of Jews, including specifically the killing of Jews in their homes (2 Macc 5:12–14), the abduction and selling of Jews into slavery (2 Macc 5:14), and the plundering the Temple and its vessels (2 Macc 5:15–16; cf. 1 Macc 1:21–24). Portier-Young asserts that Antiochus IV’s actions match similar programs in which Hellenistic kings utilize violence as a tool of control. First and Second Maccabees recount how the Hasmonean rebels resisted Antiochus IV’s state violence and terror through open warfare. First Maccabees frames the Hasmonean response as continuing the legacy of the zeal of the militant priest Phinehas (Num 25:6–15; 1 Macc 2:24–27; Collins 2003). The Hasmonean response was only one among multiple forms of resistance. Second and Fourth Maccabees describe how some Jews chose the path of martyrdom (van Henten 2002). In these instances, the individual voluntarily dies at the hand of the oppressor. Martyrdom as a self-inflicted violent act first emerges in the historical record in response to Seleucid violence. It remains as both an act of real violence and a literary portrait of resistance. Literary sources from the 2nd cent. bce present another path of resistance to Seleucid violence. Apocalyptic texts such as Daniel 7–12 and the Enochic texts the Apocalypse of Weeks and the Animal Apocalypse imagine the violent destruction of Antiochus IV and the Seleucid Empire. In these settings, individuals and groups who recognize how overmatched they are militarily might resort to fantasies of violence in which God and the angels vanquish the forces of evil in a preordained eschatological age (Horsley 2010: 19–104; Portier-Young 2011: 217–381). The broad contours of violence in the early 2nd century bce can similarly be detected in other Second Temple period settings. Like apocalyptic literature, the community of the Dead Sea Scrolls defers all violence to the eschaton by crafting a fantasy of imagined end-time violence against their perceived oppressors (Jassen 2015). The 1st-century ce evidence depicts a Jewish world engaged in intra-Jewish violent conflict and violent encounters with Roman imperial forces (Horsley 1993). Some Jewish responses focus on immediate violent resistance. Like the Hasmoneans, the Zealots appeal to the “Zeal of Phinehas” as a mandate for violence against both foreign oppressors and apostate Jews (Josephus, J.W. 4.155; Hengel 1989). At the same time, a new collection of apocalyptic writings emerges that continues the legacy of imagined violence against the imperial forces of Rome (Horsley 2010: 105–92).

Bibliography J. J. Collins, “The Zeal of Phinehas, the Bible, and the Legitimation of Violence,” JBL 122 (2003): 3–22. A. P. Jassen, “Violent Imaginaries and Practical Violence in the War Scroll,” in The War Scroll, War and Peace in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature, ed. K. S. Baek, K. Davis, P. W. Flint, and D. M. Peters, STDJ 115 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 175–203. B. E. Schmidt and I. W. Schröder, “Introduction: Violent Imaginaries and Violent Practices,” in Anthropology of Violence and Conflict, ed. Bettina E. Schmidt and Ingo W. Schroder (London: Routledge, 2001), 1–24.

817

Virgil

J. W. van Henten, Martyrdom and Noble Death: Selected Texts from Graeco-Roman, Jewish and Christian Antiquity (London: Routledge, 2002). ALEX P. JASSEN

Related entries: Animal Apocalypse (1 Enoch 85–90); Antiochus IV Epiphanes; Apocalypse; Apocalypse of Weeks (1 Enoch 93:1–10; 91:11–17); Apocalypticism; Daniel, Book of; Revolt, Maccabean; Seleucids; Maccabees, First Book of; Maccabees, Second Book of; Resistance Movements; Zealots.

Virgil Virgil was a Roman poet of the Augustan period (70–19 bce), mainly known for the Eclogae (or Bucolics), the Georgica, and the Aeneid, an epic about the origins of Rome. In his writings he does not say a word about the Jews nor does he allude to Jewish customs and rituals. As Stern noted, Virgil merely refers to the “palms of Idumea,” which in this case probably means Judea (Stern 1974: 1.316–17). Thus, the Latin poet does not at first glance seem to have been interested in Judaism at all. Yet, his work has caught the attention of scholars of Judaism because of the so-called Messianic tone of the Fourth Eclogue, written around 39 bce, which forecasts the return of a golden age through the birth of a child who will save and eventually rule the world. According to Nicholas Horsfall (2012), in the Fourth Eclogue Virgil drew inspiration from Jewish sources like the Book of Isaiah and the Third Book of Sibylline Oracles. In Bucolis 4.22, for instance, the image of the herds that shall not fear great lions, which is very rare in GrecoRoman literature, recalls Isaiah 11:6–7 and 65:25. Horsfall (2012) argues that Virgil may have become acquainted with these works through personal contacts with Jews in Rome (perhaps ambassadors from Judea), or with an author like Nicolaus of Damascus. Virgil also may have had access to a Greek translation of 1 Enoch, and the description of Aeneas’ descent to the underworld in Aeneid 6 may have been influenced by the cosmic tours of Enoch (Bremmer 2013). Literary contacts and borrowings are not the only way to reflect about a possible connection between Virgil’s work and Judaism, though. Without suggesting an influence of the biblical stories upon Virgil, Moshe Weinfeld (1993) has emphasized the parallels and striking similarities between the story of Aeneas in the Aeneid and that of Abraham in Genesis, explaining the similarities by a common Greek or Eastern background. As Weinfeld notices, both Aeneas and Abraham are called to leave their ancestral home in order to become the ancestors of a new people which shall rule the world; both are the recipient of a promise that shall be fulfilled many generations afterwards; both are exemplary pious characters (Weinfeld 1993: 4–10). Virgil’s epic played a political role from Augustus onward, because the princeps claimed Aeneas as his ancestor through his adoptive father Julius Caesar. Moreover, the idea that Rome’s rule had been decreed by the gods since the Trojan War was used to legitimate Roman imperialism. As Gerson Cohen argues, this ideology must have posed a problem for Jews, since “there was a basic similarity between Rome and Judea in patterns of thought and expression. … Each was obsessed with its glorious antiquity. Each was convinced that heaven had selected it to rule the world. Neither could accept with equanimity any challenge to its claims” (Cohen 1967: 25–26). Hence Virgil’s work contributed to the development of what would become a great ideological and political challenge for the Jews. Not without irony, one of the artifacts found at Masada, the

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place of the last battle between the Jews and the Romans in 73 ce, consists of a papyrus fragment with a quotation from Virgil’s Aeneid.

Bibliography J. Bremmer, “Postscriptum,” Vergilius 59 (2013): 157–64. G. Cohen, “Esau as Symbol in Early Medieval Thought,” in Jewish Medieval and Renaissance Studies, ed. A. Altmann (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 19–48. N. Horsfall, “Virgil and the Jews,” Vergilius 58 (2012): 67–80. E. Ulrich, “Aeneid,” EDSS (2000), 1:10–11. M. Weinfeld, The Promise of the Land: The Inheritance of the Land of Canaan by the Israelites (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993). KATELL BERTHELOT

Related entries: Genesis, Book of; Julius Caesar, Gaius; Messianism; Sibylline Oracles 3.

Washing, Ritual—see Purification and Purity (pt 4) Wealth and Poverty Wealth and poverty in the Second Temple period were not limited to money or moveable goods but were, within the wider social matrix, also reflected symbolically in honor, wisdom, power, and right relationships. The desired commodities of life such as food, land, and health—i.e. the “total environment”—was viewed as a limited-good society. This meant that the increase of one’s status, wealth, or any other commodity through short-term transactions would come at the expense of another category and would ultimately tear at the fabric of the long-term maintenance of honor within the larger cosmic and social order. In a limited-good society the great majority of people would be neither poor nor rich in the sense of financial assessment, but would be considered relatively equal with regard to their inherited status or lineage. Those who would seek to become rich through the acquisition of money or capital would be viewed as dishonorable if this activity should occur at the expense of another commodity. Within the literary world of Second Temple Jewish texts, this worldview takes a unique shape, since more was at stake than social honor and/or shame: Torah promised material blessing to the obedient and covenant curses for the disobedient (Deut 28–31). Thus, the disparity in economic circumstances among Jewish groups brought with it certain questions concerning one’s piety, and one could argue that wealth or poverty reflected one’s covenantal status with the God of Israel. As a result, two streams of tradition are evident in Jewish literature from the Second Temple period. The Deuteronomistic tradition of retributive justice is reflected most prominently in Wisdom of Ben Sira, which views material wealth as a sign of God’s covenant blessing, as laid out in the blessings and curses of Deuteronomy 28–31. Material blessing in Sirach is restricted only to the present age, with no expectation of eschatological reward. The poor are seen as an inevitable part of the social fabric. At the same time, “the fear of the Lord” seems to provide them dignity despite their circumstances (19:20) and there is hope that their condition will be overturned in this life (11:12–21; Asensio 1998: 177). Sirach also includes a category for those who gain riches unjustly, yet, unlike the biblical prophets, he lacks any critique for those who bring about the

819

Wealth and Poverty

plight of the poor, though in line with the Torah he warns the rich to care for them (Sir 29:10–13; Mathews 2013: 79). Another stream of tradition presents a very different outlook on wealth and poverty, especially as it relates to the rich and the poor. Apocalyptic texts portray the wicked and the faithful categorically as the rich and the poor, respectively (1 En. 96:4–8; CD B xix 9; Sir 8:2; 10:22–24; Wis 2:10). Consequently, the idea develops that the poor will inherit salvation while the rich are destined for destruction (1 En. 104:6; 108:10; CD B xix 9–13; 4Q417 2 i 10–12; Wis 5:2– 8). In later traditions the faithful become known by their outright rejection of material wealth (1 En. 48:7; 108:10–12; 1QS x 18–19; 1QHa vi 31; xviii 22–31; 4Q260 iv 6–7). These texts demonstrate a concern for protecting the piety of the faithful even though they are not enjoying the promises of material, covenantal blessing (1 En. 102:4–103:15). There is a postponement of the Deuteronomistic promise of blessing into a future age and an expected reversal of fortunes compared with the present reality. They also hold out an appeal to persevere in light of God’s faithfulness to fulfill his promises and to vindicate those who are truly faithful (1 En. 108:8–10) as well as a call for the faithful to separate themselves from the rich (1 En. 97:4; 104:6). These documents include warnings that what looks like faithfulness to the eye (1 En. 96:4) is, in effect, wickedness disguised, even a trap of Belial (CD A iv 12–19). The sectarian communities of Qumran took up the earlier apocalyptic traditions and defined their faithfulness by the term “the poor ones” (CD B xix 9), to distinguish themselves from those who claim covenant faithfulness because of their abundance. The covenanters guarded against any possibility of social stratification as a result of to wealth. For example, members of the Yaḥad were required to hold all possessions in common (1QS i 11–13). This did not mean that all money was held in one location, but that each member renounced any personal claim to what they owned; the individual accumulation of wealth was incompatible with community life (Flusser 2007: 7–8; 36). In addition, the sectarian communities also took great care in financial transactions both inside the community and with outsiders (1QS ix 8–9; CD A xi 15). There were strict rules concerning how and with whom one could buy and sell (1QS v 17; CD A xiii 14–15; Murphy 2002: 447–8). In these sectarian communities differentiation of social status was grounded in knowledge of Torah instead of in wealth (1QS iv 22; 1QHa vi 31; vii 22–23). This follows antecedent traditions that viewed wisdom as more valuable than material wealth since it could not be plundered by enemies (ALD 13.10–12).

Bibliography V. M. Asensio, “Poverty and Wealth: Ben Sira’s View of Possessions,” in Der Einzelne und seine Gemeinschaft bei Ben Sira, ed. R. Egger-Wenzel and I. Krammer, BZAW 270 (New York: De Gruyter, 1998), 151–78. M. D. Mathews, Riches, Poverty, and the Faithful: Perspectives on Wealth in the Second Temple Period and the Apocalypse of John, SNTSMS 154 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). C. M. Murphy, Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls & in the Qumran Community, STDJ 40 (Leiden: Brill, 2002). MARK D. MATHEWS

Related entries: Apocalypticism; Aramaic Levi Document; Asceticism; Ben Sira; Damascus Document (D); Deuteronomy, Book of; Economics in Palestine; Enoch, Ethiopic Apocalypse of (1 Enoch); Ethics; Righteousness and Justice; Rule of the Community (1QS+4QS +5QS); Tribute and Taxes. 820

Wilderness

Wilderness Jewish scriptures portray the wilderness in a variety of ways. In general, it is a place of desolation, virtually uninhabitable due to water and food scarcity (e.g. Jer 51:43; Job 38:26). Nonetheless, Jeremiah portrayed Israel’s sojourn in the wilderness as the time when the nation was most faithful to God (2:2). Others, such as Ezekiel, considered it to be a place where Israel’s rebelliousness was most prominent. All understood it to represent a formative period for Israel, the place where God gave Israel the law. Thus it served as a place where Israel was prepared for entry into the land that God had promised Abraham (e.g. Numbers); later, it was viewed as a place of punishment and transition, moving Israel’s history from punishment to restoration (e.g. Deutero-Isaiah; Hos 2:14–15; 12:9 MT). Second Temple Judaism contains this same variety of thought concerning the wilderness: it was an uninhabitable and dangerous environment (4 Ezra 1:17), the place where God disclosed his law (Jub. 50:1; LAB 11:1; 53:8), and a place of rebellion and punishment (LAB 15:5; 4 Ezra 1:22). Most interestingly, the Qumran Community, which went so far as to base itself in the desert, clearly understood this area to be the place where Israel moved from punishment to restoration. Texts like 4Q179 stress the redemptive suffering that Israel endured in the wilderness. The War Scroll describes the children of light as “those exiled of the desert” (1QM i 2). On the basis of Isaiah 40:3, the Community Rule envisages the Yaḥad separating from other Jews by entering the wilderness, where they would prepare God’s way (1QS vii 12–14). The wilderness, consequently, could function as a place of purification and preparation for the reception of God’s law (1QS ix 20; cf. Philo, Decal. 10–11; Josephus, Life 11). Early Jewish Christ-followers also use the wilderness motif. The Synoptic Gospels portray Jesus spending 40 days of testing in the wilderness prior to commencing his public ministry (Mark 1:13; Matt 4:1–2; Luke 4:1–2). Paul refers to the wilderness as a pedagogical period not only for ancient Israelites but also for his contemporary gentile readers (1 Cor 10). Likewise, Hebrews narrates its readers into the wilderness period to encourage them to persevere through the suffering that they currently endure, which the author interprets as God’s discipline (Heb 3:1–4:11; 12:5–13).

Bibliography M. Bernstein, “4Q159 fragment 5 and the ‘Desert Theology’ of the Qumran Sect,” Emanuel (2003), 1.43–56. R. B. Leal, Wilderness in the Bible: Toward a Theology of Wilderness, SBL 72 (New York: Lang, 2004). H. Najman, “Towards a Study of the Uses of the Concept of the Wilderness in Ancient Judaism,” DSD 13 (2006): 99–113. K. E. Pomykala, ed. Israel in the Wilderness: Interpretations of the Biblical Narratives in Jewish and Christian Traditions, TBN 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2008). D. R. Schwartz, “Temple and Desert: On Religion and State in Second Temple Period Judaea,” in Studies in the Jewish Background of Christianity, WUNT 60 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 29–43. R. S. Sugirtharajah, ed., Wilderness: Essays in Honour of Frances Young, LNTS 295 (London: T&T Clark, 2005). M. Thiessen, “Hebrews 12.5–13, the Wilderness Period, and Israel’s Discipline,” NTS 55 (2009): 366–79. MATTHEW THIESSEN

Related entries: Exile; Exodus, The; Fasting; Jesus of Nazareth; Judea; Purification and Purity.

821

Wisdom Literature

Wisdom Literature The identification of wisdom literature as a distinctive literary genre within the Hebrew Bible has proven difficult. A variety of literary forms not necessarily unique to this literature are utilized throughout the corpus. The study of biblical wisdom begins with an identified corpus of literature rather than a common definition. One of the identifying characteristics common to this body of literature is the presence of the term ‫( חכמה‬hkmh, “wisdom”). With 153 appearances of this term throughout the Hebrew Bible, 88 are found in Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes, those works regarded as wisdom literature. From the Septuagint, the equivalent term σοφια (sophia, “wisdom”) in Wisdom of Solomon and Ben Sira yield the same result. These five compositions comprise the collection of biblical wisdom literature, though attempts to identify the elements common to all five have been elusive (Murphy 2002: 1–14; Crenshaw 2010: 1–21; Weeks 2010: 1–22). For the most part these compositions are viewed as instructional materials for younger scribes coming into some type of official service, i.e., professional education (Crenshaw 2010: 23–60). The difficulties of identifying this group (or groups) with any greater precision have been noted, placing an emphasis on the literate nature of the group rather than a specific function (Murphy 2002: 192–93, 231–34; Weeks 2010: 127–34). In addition to the description of a way of life, perhaps what might be termed an ethic, the discussion of the pressing religious and intellectual questions of postexilic Judea are to be found within these compositions. These wisdom compositions form part of the literary creations of a scribal class already functioning in the royal court and temple contexts of Mesopotamia and Egypt throughout the Ancient Near East. Credible attempts to describe the common literary or theological character of this corpus are available; however, by and large they do not translate into a viable methodology for the identification and study of post-biblical wisdom literature in the Second Temple era. It is more accurate to consider its development as the evolution of a tradition rather than a literary genre (Goff 2007: 4–6; Kampen 2011: 5–15). Ben Sira.  The oldest extant reference in which wisdom is identified with Torah is found in Ben Sira 24:23, reflecting a significant development in wisdom thought. This identification follows a poem in praise of wisdom (personified), following the model of Proverbs 1:20–33 and 8. The Hebrew text provides an authoritative basis for an ethic that negotiates Jewish identity in the midst of Hellenistic hegemony even prior to the Antiochian persecution. This ethic describes the significant role of the scribe as intellectual who has internalized the values central to the Judean Temple state. As such it provides instruction for the daily life of the scribe, in this case based upon an integration of traditional biblical instruction and the nature of Jewish life in the imperial context of a Hellenistic state. In this didactic material at least some features of a Jewish way of life for a broader population are outlined, which is presumably one reason for its integration into a body of sacred texts. Elements of a more universal view are also apparent. Its Palestinian and Alexandrian contexts mark its extraordinary significance for the study of wisdom in the Second Temple era, blurring any clear distinction between Palestinian and diaspora literature. The idea of an afterlife receives some attention in the Greek versions while absent from the Hebrew text, as it is from the wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible (10:11; 14:16; 17:27– 28; 41:11). Significant also are the warnings against the investigation of hidden matters, even

822

Wisdom Literature

though it is not clear whether these are references to the Greek philosophical traditions or Jewish apocalyptic perceptions (3:21–24; 18:4–7). Only God is able to reveal those things which are hidden (42:19; 48:25). Greco-Jewish Literature.  In the Wisdom of Solomon Wisdom (Personified) such as that found in Proverbs 8 provides the basis for the portrayal of an ethic that makes possible Jewish life in the midst of the controversies of Roman-era Alexandria. The core of this life is wisdom which places the keeping of the law at its center, though nowhere are the two identified with one another. Immortality is the reward granted by God for a life of righteousness and justice. The scribal life advocated therein will have been held out as an ideal for Jewish life in Alexandrian Egypt (Collins 1997: 178–221). The work entitled Pseudo-Phocylides, probably also from the 1st century ce, shares some similar perspectives. This 230-line poem transforms the Pentateuch and wisdom literature into moral precepts. The necessity of “divinely inspired wisdom” is apparent throughout, asserted in the personification of wisdom in which “Wisdom directs the course of lands and cities and ships” (129–31). Immortality is presumed in that “the soul is immortal and lives ageless forever” (115) (Collins 1997: 158–77). Palestinian Literature.  The most significant wisdom composition from the Dead Sea Scrolls is Instruction. Fragments of eight or more copies attest to its importance for the later sectarian copyists. Its composition probably goes back to the early 2nd century bce contemporary with Ben Sira. But in startling contrast Torah does not even receive mention throughout the composition. The center of contemplation and pursuit for the instructee (‫מבין‬, mevin) is rather the ‫( רז נהיה‬raz nihyeh, “mystery of existence” or “mystery that is to be”), also central in Mysteries (1Q27; 4Q299–300, 301?). In this feature it rather resembles 1 Enoch, an apocalyptic composition, from which Torah is similarly absent. In contrast to biblical wisdom, the ‫( רז נהיה‬raz nihyeh) is based upon revelation rather than observation, even though both highlight their foundation in creation. Instruction and Mysteries also place wisdom teaching within a cosmological and temporal setting similar to apocalyptic literature, charting a new course for wisdom teaching within Second Temple literature (Kampen 2011: 36–190; Goff 2013). Other compositions attested among the Qumran fragments also belong in this tradition of wisdom. The fragments of both 4Q525 (Beatitudes) and 4Q184 (Wiles of the Wicked Woman) do not yield explicit evidence of sectarian provenance and utilize the term Torah. However, 4Q184 does advance wisdom in a dualistic context, and eschatological judgment is the major theme of some later columns in 4Q525. The remainder of the wisdom compositions from Qumran do not rely on that association. Among the items to be included in this list are the following: 4Q185 (Wisdom Composition), 4Q298 (CrypticA Words of the Maskil to All Sons of Dawn), 4Q412 (Sapiential-Didactic Work A), and 4Q424 (Instruction-Like Composition B). The consideration of 4Q420–421 (Ways of Righteousness) as a wisdom composition is debated. Two hymnic compositions are closely related to these wisdom texts: 4Q411 (Sapiential Hymn) and 4Q426 (Sapiential-Hymnic Work A) (Goff 2007: 3–4; Kampen 2011: 9–12). Sapiential terminology is significant in other literature of the Second Temple era as well. The term “wisdom” is significant in the Enochic corpus and some other apocalyptic literature such as the “wise” in Daniel. While the term ‫ חכמה‬appears only a few times in the sectarian writings from Qumran, other sapiential terms such as ‫( דעת‬daʿat, “knowledge”), ‫( אמת‬ʾemet, “truth”), and ‫שכל‬ (sekhel, “insight”) are ubiquitous in compositions such as the Damascus Document (D), the 823

Wisdom (Personified)

Community Rule, and the Hodayot (1QHa + 4QH manuscripts). The appearance of σοφια (sophia) throughout New Testament materials attests to its significance in Second Temple Jewish life as well.

Bibliography See General Bibliography JOHN I. KAMPEN

Related entries: Education; Greek Philosophy; Hellenism and Hellenization; Job, Book of; Proverbs, Book of; Qoheleth; Scribes and Scribalism.

Wisdom (Personified) Language that personifies wisdom is metaphorical, transforming a desirable cognitive human characteristic and mental disposition into an attractive and powerful woman with commendable personality traits. This literary technique functioned to motivate readers to seek after and desire wisdom. It originated with the first collection of the Book of Proverbs (esp. in Prov 1:20–33; 3:13–20; 8:1–36; 9:1–18; Heim 2015: 581–82), and can also be found in Job 28. Personification metaphors in general are extraordinarily vivid, multivalent, and evocative. Consequently, the personification of wisdom as a powerful female voice—the longest sections ascribed to a female figure in Jewish scripture, much of it in direct speech, are ascribed to her—evoked numerous responses in Jewish writings of the Second Temple period. The most extensive of these appear in Ben Sira, Wisdom of Solomon, 1 Baruch, the Dead Sea Scrolls, Philo of Alexandria, the New Testament writings, and rabbinic literature. Ben Sira developed the metaphor extensively (14:20–27; 24:1–22; but cf. v. 23). The writer utilizes a literary inversion of the personification trope, reifying wisdom by equating her with the Torah, an inanimate entity (see esp. Heim 2012: 57–58). In Wisdom of Solomon (esp. chs. 6–9, but also 10–12), personified wisdom appears as an almost superhuman and quasi-divine figure (Winston 1979). Closer inspection shows, however, that all such statements are metaphorical and, when properly interpreted, only highlight her closeness to the Lord (Heim 2012: 60–62). First Baruch (3:24–4:2; cf. also 3:14–17, 20–23) also reifies the wisdom persona by identifying her with Torah (Heim 2012: 58–60) without, however, including the romantic or “erotic” overtones used to describe a man’s efforts to approach wisdom in Ben Sira and Wisdom of Solomon. The influence of the wisdom personification can likewise be discerned in Philo’s works (e.g. On the Creation 17–31; On Drunkenness 30–31, 61; That the Worse Attacks the Better 54; On Flight and Finding 109); written in the philosophically “eclectic” atmosphere of Alexandria, they draw heavily on Greek philosophical speculation regarding the terms Nous (νοῦς) and Logos (λόγος) (Heim 2012: 63–69). A number of texts from the Dead Sea Scrolls refer to wisdom personified, sometimes connecting wisdom and eschatology (4Q416 2 iii 9, 14–15) and preserving a more erotic form of Ben Sira than is found in the Greek text (11Q5 xxi 11–17; xxii 1; cf. Sir 51:13–19). Other texts establish a link between divine wisdom and creation (11Q5 xxvi 9–15), suggest that wisdom is given to humankind in order “to declare the glory of the Lord” (11Q5 xviii 1–16 [Psalm 154]), and, as in Ben Sira, associate wisdom closely with the Torah (4Q525 2 ii 3–8; cf. 4Q185 1-2 ii 8–15). In contrast to such wisdom, 4Q184 1 probably refers to Folly, whose seductive and deplorable activities are described and who awaits eternal punishment. 824

Women

There is continuity and discontinuity between Proverbs and Second Temple Jewish thought regarding the ways in which personified wisdom is portrayed. Particular characteristics not shared with the earlier tradition include the following: (1) the equation of personified wisdom with the Torah; (2) the bestowal of wisdom on the whole community (at Qumran); and (3) the association of wisdom with eschatology (Harrington 1996: 28–30, 48–49, 57). The connection between personified wisdom and Torah during the Second Temple period would develop into “one of the fundamental principles of rabbinic Judaism” (Schäfer 2003: 35). This identification was also codified in an early Aramaic translation of the first sentence of the Book of Genesis (the targum): whereas Targum Onkelos translates literally, “in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” the so-called Fragmentary Targum introduces the idea of personified wisdom into the verse and translates with “in (or by means of) wisdom God created the heavens and the earth.” The later Codex Neofiti combines both traditions and translates the beginning of the sentence as “from the beginning by wisdom God created and perfected the heavens and the earth” (cf. also Gen. Rab. 1.1 to Gen 1:1). In the New Testament, Jesus of Nazareth is frequently depicted in terms that recall personified wisdom: his cruciform death, though folly to the Greeks, is an expression of divine wisdom (1 Cor 1:24, 30); he is associated with the creation of the world (John 1:3; Col 1:15–17; Heb 1:2–3; Rev 3:14); and he is identified with the Son of Man (Matt 11:19 = Luke 7:35). In addition, personified wisdom, who speaks, is a metaphor for God (Luke 11:49–52). There is some debate over how many passages in the New Testament reflect a “Wisdom Christology,” especially regarding the significance of the wisdom personification for early Christian reflection on the nature of Jesus. For this, a “maximalist” approach is taken by James Dunn (Dunn 1996: 163–212; cf. also 213–50), while a spirited argument for a “minimalist” approach has been advanced by Gordon Fee (Fee 2000: 251–79).

Bibliography G. D. Fee, “Wisdom Christology in Paul: A Dissenting View,” in The Way of Wisdom: Essays in Honor of Bruce K. Waltke, ed. J. I. Packer and S. Soderlund (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2000), 251–79. K. M. Heim, “Personified Wisdom in Early Judaism,” in Wisdom, Science and the Scripture: Essays in Honour of Ernest Lucas, ed. S. Finamore and J. Weaver (Oxford: Regent’s Park College, 2012), 56–71. K. M. Heim, “The Phenomenon and Literature of Wisdom in Its near Eastern Context and the Biblical Wisdom Books,” in Hebrew Bible / Old Testament: The History of its Interpretation, III/2: The Twentieth Century—from Modernism to Post-Modernism, ed. M. Sæbø (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), 559–93. P. Schäfer, “Wisdom Finds a Home: Torah as Wisdom,” in Light in a Spotless Mirror: Reflections on Wisdom Traditions in Judaism and Early Christianity, ed. J. M. Charlesworth and M. A. Daise, Faith and Scholarship Colloquies 4 (London: Continuum, 2003), 26–44. KNUT M. HEIM

Related entries: Baruch, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Philo of Alexandria; Targumim; Wisdom Literature; Women.

Women In Second Temple literature women are the subject of attention and are featured in various genres such as novels, wisdom instructions, and sectarian regulations in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Two Jewish novels from the Second Temple period are named after the heroines who—albeit in very 825

Women

different ways—save the Jewish people from death. Esther (4th–3rd cent. bce) describes how the young Jewish woman Esther becomes the queen of Persia because of her striking beauty. Through manoeuver and courage, she saves her people from a massacre that had been planned by the king’s advisor Haman. In contrast to Esther, who saves the people thanks to her favorable position as the king’s wife (Esth 3:1–8:17), Judith (2nd–1st cent. bce) is presented as an independent woman; she is a wealthy, childless, and beautiful widow, who acts wholly on her own (Jdt 8:1–36). When the Jews in Judea are ready to surrender to Assyrian general Holofernes, Judith takes action (10:1– 13:10). After deceitfully enticing Holofernes and gaining his trust, she eventually cuts off his head. Since death at the hands of a woman is humiliating for the enemy (Jdt 13:15–17), her action inspires the people, who proceed to slaughter the panicking Assyrian soldiers (14:11–15:7). Another kind of a heroine is Ruth, a righteous and poor Moabite woman, who follows her mother-in-law, Naomi, to Bethlehem after the death of her husband (Ruth 1:1–22). The tale centers on the close friendship between the women as they conspire to make an older relative, Boaz, redeem Ruth, i.e., marry her (3:1–5). The plan works well (3:6–4:12) and Ruth gives birth to a son, thereby securing the Davidic linage (4:17; cf. Matt 1:5). Likely dated to the early Second Temple period, the story of Ruth demonstrates a different opinion concerning the status of foreign women than that advocated by Ezra-Nehemiah. Composed at a much later date, Joseph and Aseneth (1st cent. bce–1st cent. ce) strongly promotes the conversion of non-Jewish women. Aseneth, who is briefly mentioned in Genesis (41:45–52; 46:20) as the wife of Joseph and daughter of an Egyptian priest, has a central role in this romantic novel with mystical overtones. As she repents deeply, she is transformed from being an idolater to a worshiper of the true God, a transformation that is viewed as a passing from death to life (Jos. Asen. 10:1–18:11). Her chastity is highlighted, which is a necessary trait for a heroine. Similarly, Judith did not have any relations with a man after becoming a widow (cf. Jdt 8:1–8). Likewise, Susanna, the main character in the addition to Daniel from ca. 100 bce, is both beautiful and chaste, as well as trained in the law of Moses (Sus 3). When she is blackmailed by two elders to sleep with them or else be falsely accused of adultery, she refuses to give in (20–21). She is saved through her petition to God (42–44) and the subsequent involvement at the trial by Daniel (50–59). These fictional characters are pious, and they resort to prayer in their distress (Esther 14:3–9, Judith 9:2–14, Aseneth 11–13, Sarah, in Tob 3:11–17, and Susanna 42–43). In each of these accounts, God responds to their calls (e.g. Sus 44: “God heard her cry”). Noticeable is Sarah’s formal prayer that utilizes the standard introductory formula—“Blessed are you …”—and the common prayer gesture with outstretched hands (Schuller 1998a: 275). The daughters of Job, in Testament of Job (1st cent. bce–1st cent. ce), perform a different kind of prayer, as they worship God ecstatically in an angelic tongue (48–50; cf. 1 Cor 11:2–10). Beauty is a common trait of many positive, female characters, such as Sarah (Tob 6:12), Judith, Esther, and Aseneth. The latter is said to be “beautiful to look at beyond all virgins on the earth” (1:4) as is Joseph (6:4). The beautiful body of Sarah, the wife of Abraham, is described in detail in the retelling of Genesis 12:10–20 in Genesis Apocryphon (2nd cent. bce), e.g., “How lovely are her eyes; how pleasant her nose and all the radiance of her face. How shapely is her breast” (1Q20 xx 2–4). There are also many warnings about the allure of women, whose attractiveness and sexuality pose a threat to men. This is a prominent theme found in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (2nd cent. bce). Thus, e.g., Reuben tells his children, “They [women] contrive in their hearts against men, then by decking themselves out they lead the men’s minds astray, 826

Women

Figure 4.151  1QSa col 1 lines 10–11 (early 1st century bce), woman bearing witness. Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

by a look they implant their poison, and finally in the act itself they take them captive” (T. Reu. 5:3). In general, wisdom literature paints women, as well as men, in either black or white terms. Ben Sira (early 2nd century bce) judges women according to how they affect men; consequently, a good wife is chaste, loyal, beautiful, self-controlled, cooks well, and keeps her husband happy (26). A bad wife, on the other hand, is disobedient and can be likened to poisonous animals (e.g. 25:15). The recommendation of the sage is clear: “If she does not go as you direct, separate her from yourself ” (25:26). The Rule of the Congregation (1QSa i 1–5) from Qumran provides regulations for an assembly, possibly for the annual renewal of the covenant ceremony, which included women and children: “When they come, they shall assemble all those who enter (including) children along with women; and they shall read in [their] h[earing al]l of the statutes of the covenant, and instruct them in all [th]eir judg[ments] lest they err g[reatly]” (1QSa i 4–5). Since all the members of the congregation were to observe the laws properly, it was imperative that everyone, both men and women, knew them well. Women were even eligible to testify against their husbands according to the plain meaning of 1QSa i 9–11 (see Figure 4.151), which likely concerned his observance of laws, purity, and other matters in connection to sexual relations (Schuller 1998b: 131–33). Nevertheless, some scholars have emended the female forms to the masculine, and most translations follow those suggestions. A strict view on sexual relations within marriage is evident in the penal code in Damascus Document whereby a man who “approaches to fornicate with his wife” is expelled (4QDe 7 i 12–13). The law possibly relates to having sex without the intention of procreation, in line with a condemnation of a man sleeping with a pregnant woman in the same document (4QDe 2 ii 15–17) (Wassén 2005: 173–84). Furthermore, the penal code in D prescribes penalties for offending two groups called “the fathers” and “the mothers” (4QDe 7 i 13–15). Whereas the penalty for offending the fathers is expulsion, offending the mothers brings a penalty of ten days. Judging from the uneven penalties, the authority between the two must have differed greatly. Still, the presence of a group of women having some authority within the Qumran movement is striking. The fragmentary liturgical text 4Q502 is labeled Ritual of Marriage although the nature of the liturgy in question is uncertain. It mentions various groups of men and women, including “young men and women” (frag. 19 3), “brothers” (frags. 6–10 11) and “sisters” (frag. 96 1), and ‫( זקנים‬zqnym) and ‫( זקנות‬zqnwt) (frags. 19 2; 24 4, 6), which can refer either to male and female elders, or elderly men and women. The use of the epithet “daughter of truth” (frag. 2 6), reminiscent of “sons of truth” (1QS iv 5–6), is especially noteworthy (Crawford 2003: 137).

Bibliography E. Schuller, “Tobit,” in Women’s Bible Commentary, ed. C. A. Newsom and S. H. Ringe, 2nd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998a), 272–85. 827

Worship

E. Schuller, “Women in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years (1998b), 2.117–144. S.White Crawford, “Not according to Rule: Women, the Dead Sea Scrolls and Qumran,” Emanuel (2003), 127–50. CECILIA WASSÉN

Related entries: Babatha Archive; Conversion and Proselytism; Daniel, Additions to; Esther, Book of; Family; Judith, Book of; Marriage and Divorce; Purification and Purity; Ruth, Book of; Salome Alexandra; Sexuality; Sibylline Oracles 1–2; Sibylline Oracles 3; Sibylline Oracles 4–5; Wisdom (Personified).

Worship “Worship”—like “cult” and “religion”—is a modern abstraction that does not neatly correspond to any specific category or term of ancient Judaism. It is useful heuristically in encompassing a vast constellation of actions and attitudes related to acknowledging and expressing the superiority of the object of worship, in this case, the Israelite God (Smart 1972: 51). One cluster of terms has to do with “service” to God. In Hebrew, the most important term is ‘bdh (‫)עבדה‬, which in the Hebrew Bible is used for activities related to the sacrificial cult, but in later Judaism is extended to liturgical prayer as a service to God (b. Taʿan 2a; b. Ber. 26b). In Jewish Greek texts, several terms express the idea of service to God, especially latreia (λατρεία), leitourgia (λειτουργία), thrēskeia (θρησκεία), and therapeia (θεραπεία). A second set of terms has to do with the action of prostration or physical humbling before a superior, especially hštḥwh (‫)השתחוה‬ in Hebrew and proskunēsis (προσκυνήσις) in Greek. A third set of terms has to do with awe, fear, and reverence, especially yr’ (‫ )ירא‬in Hebrew and phobos (φόβος) and sebeia (σεβεία) in Greek. In the broadest sense, worship embraces all of the life of piety, but even a more narrow focus on formal acts of worship encompasses a wide range of diverse activities. Worship is not merely vocal: activities related to the Jerusalem Temple cult were largely nonverbal, and even vocal worship includes nonverbal aspects (Ehrlich 2004) including space, time, material (e.g. water, ashes, incense), posture (e.g. standing, prostration), movement (e.g. procession, dance, gestures), dress (e.g. official garments, mourning clothes), and mental processes (e.g. humility, meditation). As a form of communication, worship assumes a sender, message, channel, receiver, and purpose (Neyrey 2007: 146–48). It is relational and bidirectional: worshiper to God (e.g. sacrifice, offerings, prayer) and God to worshiper (e.g. priestly blessing, divine word in form of Scripture reading). Moreover, a significant part of Jewish worship is addressed to the congregation about God (e.g. creeds, confessions, calls to worship, exposition of Scripture). Models from ritual studies (Bell 1997: 93–137) also help to clarify the various functions of acts of worship. Worship related to the Temple cult focused on the activities of priests and Levites, including daily offerings of animals, produce, and incense, with special sacrifices for Sabbaths, new moons, and festivals. Representatives of priestly families served in rotation (‫משמרות‬, mšmrwt). The most sacred day of the year is the Day of Atonement, when the high priest would carry out purification rituals for the sanctuary and the nation. In the Second Temple, the Levites exercised an expanded role as singers and musicians, although the exact nature of these performances is unclear (see Rendsburg 2014). The people played important roles in this divine service: the tithes, Temple tax, firstfruits, and offerings were theirs, after all, which they brought or sent to the Temple. Even diaspora Jews living in distant communities maintained strong attachment to the Temple, collecting and sending their contributions (e.g. Philo, Spec. 1.77–78; Josephus, Ant. 18.312–313). Although caution is necessary with regard to rabbinic accounts of Second Temple 828

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practices, the Mishnah (m. Taʿan. 4:3) describes lay groups that would serve as representatives (‫מעמדות‬, mʿmdwt) to the sacrificial service in the form of Scripture readings both at the Temple and in their various communities (Tabory 2003). Pilgrimage festivals involved—for those who undertook the journey—informal and popular expressions of worship on the way and at the Temple, as well as ritual purification, transactions involving offerings, and representation (Sanders 1992: 125–45). Some sense of the experience of a worshiper at the Temple may be gained from Ben Sira’s description of crowds moved by the pageantry of the high priest and the Levitical songs and prostrating themselves at the time of the incense offering to utter their own prayers (Sir 50). Even if this scene depicts an idealized image of the Day of Atonement, it shows the type of popular, informal worship that was attracted to the daily Temple sacrifice and even more so on Sabbaths and festivals (Regev 2014). The depiction of the Temple as house of prayer (1 Kgs 8; Isa 56:7; 1 Macc 7:37; Mark 11:17) does not imply any sort of formal, regularized liturgy of prayer, but rather the Temple as a natural focus for the outpouring of national and personal needs, not only at ad hoc times of crisis (e.g. 1 Macc 7:36–37; Jdt 4:8–13) but also at the time of the daily offering, whether at the Temple (Luke 1:10; Acts 3:1; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.209) or directed toward the Temple (Dan 6:10–11; Jdt 9). Religious vows are also important acts of worship of the people often fulfilled by an offering at the Temple (e.g. Paul in Acts 18:18; 21:23–26; summarized as worship, 24:11). Philo probably reflects popular piety in regarding vows as prayers, and the Nazirite vow as the dedication of oneself as an offering to God (Leonhardt-Balzer 2001: 117–24). Although for most Jews the Jerusalem Temple was the only site for sacrificial worship, there is evidence for Jewish temples in some other locations during the Second Temple period (Runesson, Binder, and Olsson 2008: 274–94). The other institutional sphere for Jewish worship during the Second Temple period was the synagogue. Although the origins and early development are obscure, synagogues were widely attested throughout the Jewish world by the Hellenistic period (Runesson, Binder, and Olsson 2008). The main feature of religious life in the synagogues in the Second Temple period was assembly on Sabbath for the reading and exposition of Scripture (e.g. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.175; Luke 4:16–17; Acts 13:14–15; van der Horst 1999; Binder 1999: 389–404; Levine 2000: 124–25), and probably on new moons and festivals as well (Binder 1999: 415–26). It is logical and likely that communal prayer of some kind was a part of Sabbath synagogue gatherings as well (cf. Jub. 2:21; 50:9; Philo, Decal. 158; Binder 1999: 404–415; Levine 2000: 151–159), especially since these places of assembly are often called proseuchē (προσευχή, “prayer hall”) in the diaspora (e.g. Acts 16:13; Sanders 1999: 6–13; Runesson, Binder, and Olsson 2008, index; cf. Josephus, Life 295). Explicit evidence, however, is lacking for regularized communal prayer services. The few references to prayer in synagogues even in the 1st century ce seem to describe private prayer in a public context (e.g. Matt 6:5; Josephus, Life 277, 280, 295). In any case, there is no basis for imagining a widespread, formal prayer liturgy in synagogues prior to 70 ce corresponding to the later synagogue liturgy (Reif 1993). Other functions of synagogues related to worship, however, include collection of firstfruits and Temple contributions (e.g. Philo, Legat. 156–157, 311–318) and fulfillment of vows. There is more evidence for formal communal prayer in assemblies of sectarian Jewish groups: Essenes (Josephus, J.W. 2.128), Therapeutae (Philo, Contempl. 28–29, 66–89), and early Christians (1 Cor 14:26; Acts 2:42). The Dead Sea Scrolls attest a comprehensive liturgical cycle of worship among communities of a sectarian movement that is probably Essene. This includes daily assemblies for ritualized communal meals, reading and interpretation of Scripture, and prayer (1QS vi 1–10). 829

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Not only are there descriptions and catalogues of times ordained for prayer (e.g. 1QS ix 26–x16), but numerous scrolls of liturgical prayers for daily, Sabbath, and festival worship, as well as ritual occasions, and over 30 tefillin (Falk 1999). Altogether, the evidence for liturgical prayer encompasses the following: daily prayer at sunrise and sunset including recital of the Shema and Decalogue (Falk 2000), and blessings; unspecified prayer accompanying night-time sessions of Scripture study; petitions; hymns; and grace at meals (Penner 2012). There are special prayers for Sabbath including blessings, hymns of praise, mystical songs about heavenly worship, and special prayers for new moons and each of the festivals. Additionally, there are liturgies for purification rituals, blessing and cursing rituals, exorcism and apotropaic rituals, rituals associated with entry into and expulsion from the covenant community, and more. The vast repertoire attests the dominance of ritual in the sectarian community (Kugler 2002). In prayer as service to God at divinely ordained times the community sought to harmonize with God’s created order and unite with angels in worship (Chazon 2003). On the other hand, by no means did all of the liturgical material found at Qumran originate within a narrow sectarian context. It may be that formalized prayer liturgies were developed first among sectarian groups, but to some extent they reflect broader trends in prayer practices in various contexts of Second Temple Judaism. There are both elements of continuity with the later synagogue liturgy—in terms of times and occasions, general categories of prayer, stereotyped motifs, and even an impulse to frame prayer with standard formulas—and discontinuity, especially in the use of completely different prayers for each occasion (Sarason 2001; Chazon 2012). Home was also an important sphere for both private and family worship. Grace at meals (Jub. 22:6–9; 23:24; Let. Aris. 185), Sabbath rituals, and Passover rituals would take place in the home (Doering 2010). Since there is no evidence of daily synagogue assembly for prayer in the Second Temple period, those who recited the Shema daily (Let. Aris. 158–160; Philo, Spec. 4.141–142; Josephus, Ant. 4.212–213) probably did so at home or other private places, along with personal prayers. The thrice-daily prayer of Daniel (Dan 6:10–11) and the early morning prayer of the sage (Sir 39:5) were likely exceptional rather than typical expressions of Jewish piety.

Bibliography C. Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997). E. G. Chazon, “Liturgy Before and After the Temple’s Destruction: Change or Continuity?,” in Was 70 CE a Watershed in Jewish History?: On Jews and Judaism Before and After the Destruction of the Second Temple, eds. D. R. Schwartz and Z. Weiss (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 371–92. L. Doering, “Sabbath and Festivals,” in The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Daily Life in Roman Palestine, ed. C. Hezser (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 566–86. U. Ehrlich, The Nonverbal Language of Prayer: A New Approach to Jewish Liturgy, TSAJ 105 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). D. K. Falk, “Qumran Prayer Texts and the Temple,” in Sapiential, Liturgical and Poetical Texts From Qumran: Proceedings of the Third Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies, Oslo 1998. Published in Memory of Maurice Baillet, ed. D. K. Falk, F. Martínez García, and E. M. Schuller (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 106–26. R. A. Kugler, “Making All Experience Religious: The Hegemony of Ritual At Qumran,” JSJ 33.2 (2002): 131–52. J. Leonhardt-Balzer, Jewish Worship in Philo of Alexandria, TSAJ 84 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001). J. H. Neyrey, S.J., “Worship, in Other Words: Appropriate Cultural Models,” Give God the Glory: Ancient Prayer and Worship in Cultural Perspective (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 144–66.

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J. Penner, Patterns of Daily Prayer in Second Temple Period Judaism, ed. S. C. Reif and R. Egger-Wenze, STDJ 104 (Leiden: Brill, 2012). E. Regev, “Prayer Within and Without the Temple. From Ancient Judaism to Early Christianity,” Hen 36.1 (2014): 119–39. S. C. Reif, “The Early Liturgy of the Synagogue,” in Judaism and Hebrew Prayer: New Perspectives on Jewish Liturgical History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 51–87. G. A. Rendsburg, “The Psalms as Hymns in the Temple of Jerusalem,” in Jesus and the Temple: Textual and Archaeological Explorations, ed. J. H. Charlesworth (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 95–122. E. P. Sanders, “Common Judaism and the Synagogue in the First Century,” in Jews, Christians, and Polytheists in the Ancient Synagogue: Cultural Interaction During the Greco-Roman Period, ed. S. Fine (London; New York: Routledge, 1999), 1–17. R. S. Sarason, “The ‘Intersections’ of Qumran and Rabbinic Judaism: The Case of Prayer Texts and Liturgies,” DSD 8.2 (2001): 169–81. N. Smart, The Concept of Worship, New Studies in Philosophy of Religion (London: Macmillan, 1972). J. Tabory, “Ma͑amadot: A Second Temple Non-Temple Liturgy,” in Liturgical Perspectives: Prayer and Poetry in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium of the Orion Center for the Study of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Associated Literature, 19–23 January, 2000, ed. E. G. Chazon, R. Clements, and A. Pinnick (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 235–261. P. W. van der Horst, “Was the Synagogue a Place of Sabbath Worship Before 70 ce?” in Jews, Christians, and Polytheists in the Ancient Synagogue: Cultural Interaction During the Greco-Roman Period, ed. S. Fine (London: Routledge, 1999), 18–43. DANIEL K. FALK

Related entries: Festivals and Holy Days; Holiness; Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms; Priesthood; Purification and Purity; Sabbath; Sectarianism.

Writing Writing and its cultural effects were well known in Second Temple Judaism, even though advanced writing ability, such as would be necessary to copy a Torah scroll or commit a lengthy text to manuscript, was the possession of very few Jews. In the ancient world in general, reading and writing were acquired and used as separate skills. According to ancient educational theorists and the Greco-Roman Egyptian school papyri, compositional writing was reserved for the final stages of literate education whereas initial letter formation and signature literacy sometimes appeared in the educational process prior even to learning to read syllables (Quintilian, Inst. 1.1.27; Seneca, Ep. 94.15; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Comp. 2.229; Manilius, Astronomica 2.755–761; Cribiore 1997; 2001). Thus fewer could write to an advanced degree than could read and fewer could read than could sign their names. Those with literate skills at all, however, would have been a minority of the overall population and typically from the elite class, as most individuals did not have access to or need of literate education (Harris 1989; Hezser 2001; Keith 2011; Wise 2015). Additionally, those who received a literate education typically learned literate skills only to the degree that was required by their station in life or, in the case of slaves, to the degree that their owner required. Thus, even among those who could write, there was very uneven distribution of writing ability. Second Temple Judaism has yet to yield explicit evidence for how literate skills were acquired along the lines of the Greco-Roman theorists or the school papyri from Egypt. The earliest possible indication of writing playing a role in literate Jewish education is from the Palestinian Talmud (y. Ta’an 69a [4:8]), ca. 400 ce. Some scholars have appealed to abecedaries (lists of the letters of

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the alphabet) and seeming writing exercises on ostraca (repurposed broken pieces of pottery) as evidence of writing instruction. Such an interpretation is possible and even likely for some of this evidence, but much of the evidence could equally be explained as the product of practiced scribes exercising their skills or perhaps testing their instruments rather than initial learners. Entirely unanswered also is the degree to which the writing abilities on display in abecedaries and ostraca can be regarded as typical for an average person. Debate over these matters continues, but most scholars affirm that formal writing ability was largely restricted to the elite class. Although advanced writing ability was rare in Second Temple Judaism, it is nevertheless clear from inscriptions on ossuaries, coinage, and household items like jars, as well as documentary papyri and manuscripts of literary texts, that Jews of all socioeconomic levels were aware of writing and that many more could use the skill in a rudimentary fashion than in a literary fashion. In this sense, Second Temple Judaism mirrors its wider cultural context, as contracts for mundane matters like land deeds, the sale of a slave, or a wedding agreement are often written by professional scribes and then signed by a party to the contract in an unpracticed hand that could write little more than the signature, which was sometimes in a language other than the contract. Equally frequent are contracts that are signed by the professional scribe for the contractual party with a formula noting that he or she could not sign on account of illiteracy. Such contractual formulae are found throughout the Greco-Roman period and also attested in Roman Palestine (Keith 2011: 91–92; Wise 2015: 1–61). Cumulatively, the evidence indicates that writing impacted almost every Second Temple Jew, whether in the land or the diaspora, even though the ability to copy or compose intricate texts was limited to a select few. This combination of high textuality and low literacy lead to writing also having an important symbolic significance in Second Temple Judaism that underscored the authority of the grapho-literate individual, particularly vis-à-vis authoritative texts. Earlier portrayals of this significance include YHWH’s authorship of the Decalogue in Exodus 31:18, 32:15–16, the claim that Torah came “from the hand of Moses” (Lev 26:46; Num 4:37, 41, 45, 49; 9:23; 10:13; 15:23; 36:13), and the portrayal of Joshua writing out the Torah (Josh 8:32) and writing in the Torah (Josh 24:26). In the Second Temple period, patriarchs or significant past figures are often portrayed as able to write. Jubilees, e.g., portrays Enoch as the first person able to write (4:17–18) and attributes writing (and reading) ability to Cainan, Noah’s great-grandson (8:2–4). This text also attributes knowledge of “letters,” which can mean reading or writing, to Abraham (11:16) and Jacob (19:14) (Keith 2011: 96–97). The symbolic significance of writing is also reflected in texts that portray grapho-literacy as a contested practice. In an earlier period, Jeremiah 8:8 rails against scribal power, referring to the “false pen of the scribes” that turns Torah into a lie. In the Second Temple period, 1 Enoch 69:8–9 presents Penemue, an angelic leader who teaches men the ability to write with ink and papyrus and thus leads them astray into a text-dependent faith. These contestations of scribal authority simply underscore further writing’s symbolic significance by identifying writing as the source of the authority they contest and by placing their challenges to writing in the written medium themselves. The symbolic representation of the ability to write almost certainly reflects the cultural reality that few could write and that those whose writing was related to sacred Jewish tradition and its authoritative interpretation were typically highly esteemed (see Sir prologue; 38:24–39:11) along

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with other interpretive authorities. Thus, the Gospels of the New Testament often emphasize Jesus’ authority as a teacher by placing him in dialogue with scribes, the practitioners of writing who used their skills to become interpretive authorities in matters related to Scripture. Writing was therefore a common feature of life for most of Second Temple Judaism, though its societal distribution in terms of skill level and usage was typically dependent upon social class.

Bibliography R. Cribiore, “Literary School Exercises,” ZPE 116 (1997): 53–60. R. Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001). W. V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989). C. Keith, Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee, LHJS 8/LNTS 413 (London: T&T Clark, 2011). CHRIS KEITH

Related entries: Archives and Libraries; Jesus of Nazareth; Jubilees, Book of; Literacy and Reading; Sages; Scribes and Scribalism; Scripts and Scribal Practices; Slavery.

Yavneh The ancient city of Yavneh was strategically positioned on the “Via Maris,” the “Way of the Sea,” at the crossroads linking the highway running from Egypt to Anatolia (see Map 12b: First Jewish War: Roman Campaigns [67–69 ce]). The earliest name of the city later known as Yavneh = Jabneh or Yamnia is recorded in the Hebrew Bible as Yavne’el and was allocated in the earliest period to the tribe of Dan (Josh 15:11; 2 Chr 26:6–8). The area of Yavne’el was conquered multiple times during the Iron Age through the Persian period. In the Greek period (4th to 2nd cent. bce) following the conquests of Alexander the Great, the city was part of the Ptolemaic Empire for 100 years, but later fell into Seleucid hands after the battle of Gaza (also called Raphia) in 217 bce. In this period the town was renamed with the Greek name Iamnia. At the time of the Maccabean revolt the city was known both in the books of Maccabees (1 Macc 4:15; 5:58; 10:69; 15:40; 2 Macc 12:8, 40) and by writers writing in Greek (cf. Judith 2:28). In 122 bce, John Hyrcanus conquered Yavneh, and the city remained for a few years as a part of the Hasmonean kingdom. The 1st-century Jewish historian, Flavius Josephus, relates much information about Yavneh leading up to the First Revolt (cf. Ant. 5.87; 12.308; 13.395; 14.75; 17.189; 18.158; J.W. 1.50; 3.56; 4.130). In the 1st-century bce reign of Herod the Great (37–4 bce), Iamnia was one of the cities assigned to the Herodians. Following the death of Herod the Great, the area of Iamnia was given to his sister Salome as an inheritance (Ant. 17.321). Salome, who died between 9 and 12 ce, made Livia Julia, wife of Augustus Caesar, her heir (Ant. 18.31). When Livia Julia died in 29 ce the territory passed the city as an inheritance to her son Tiberius (cf. Ant. 18.33). After his death in 37 ce, it became the property of Caligula, and after the death of the client-king Agrippa I, the area was subordinated to the Roman procurator. It no longer constituted an independent district by the time of the First Revolt in 66 ce. In 67 ce, Yavneh was conquered by Jewish rebels, but at the end of that year, Vespasian took it without opposition. Vespasian set up his camp there and transferred a large part of the Jewish population to Caesarea (cf. Ant. 4.130).

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It is against this background that the foundational rabbinic accounts of the exploits of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai are cast (see Map 13: Roman Rule through the Second Jewish War [73–136 ce]). There are multiple rabbinic versions of ben Zakkai’s escape from Jerusalem and journey to Yavneh at the end of the First Revolt (Saldarini 1975; [b. Giṭ. 56b; ‘Abot R. Nat. A 4, B 6; Lam. Rab. 1:5; cf. m. Roš Haš. 4:1–3; Sukkah 28a]). The various versions all contain ben Zakkai’s request to Vespasian to create a rabbinic enclave at Yavneh, which would become central to the rabbinic establishment by the end of the century. They differ on the question of the extent of collaboration between ben Zakkai and the Romans. All rabbinic accounts have ben Zakkai arriving at the camp of the Roman general Vespasian and Vespasian granting the establishment of a rabbinic “study house” at Yavneh (b. Sukkah 28a; b. Ber. 27b). Ben Zakkai remained at Yavneh until approximately 80 ce, after which Rabban Gamiliel II took over the movement there. According to rabbinic texts, the “study house” (and the “Sanhedrin”) remained at Yavneh until approximately the War of Kitos (117 ce). The claim that a council was held there at which the “canon” of the Hebrew Bible was determined (e.g. Fohrer 1968: 486) is now largely disputed (Lewis 2002). After the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem the study house of Yavneh was organized as the supreme religious authority of what became “rabbinic Judaism.” The “rabbinic academy” subsequently moved from Yavneh, finally settling in Tiberias. In the Byzantine period (4th cent. ce), Iamnea is already listed in the Onomasticon of Eusebius as a Christian settlement with a bishop. Remains of a Samaritan synagogue have been found on the ancient mound along with remains from a marble Roman statue and other Roman materials. Early Roman pottery (fine ware and daily ware) and coins of both Herod (37−34 bce) and the Roman procurator Porcius Festus (59−60 ce) were also found in excavations. Little of the short-lived “rabbinic” settlement at Yavneh has been discovered (Fischer and Taxel 2007; Yannai 2012). The 6th-century Madaba mosaic map in Jordan has a listing of “Yavne’el which is Iamnia” above a series of buildings placed halfway between Jerusalem and the Mediterranean Sea on the map. In 634 ce the site was conquered in the Muslim wars that engulfed the area.

Bibliography M. Fischer and I. Taxel, “Ancient Yavneh: Its History and Archaeology,” Tel Aviv 34.2 (2007): 204–84 (Hebrew). G. Fohrer, Introduction to the Old Testament, trans. D. Green (Nashville: Abingdon, 1968). J. P. Lewis, “Jamnia Revisited,” in The Canon Debate, ed. L. M. McDonald and  J. A. Sanders (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2002), 146–62. A. Maeir, Tel Yavne, Summary Report: Preliminary On-Site Archaeological Work on behalf of Foundation Stone (1997–1998) (Ramat-Gan: Bar Ilan University, 1998). J. Neusner, Life of Yohanan ben Zakkai, 2nd ed. (Leiden: Brill, 1970). A. J. Saldarini, “Johanan ben Zakkai’s Escape from Jerusalem: Origin and Development of a Rabbinic Story,” JSJPHRP 6 (1975): 189–204. P. Schäfer, “Die sogenannte Synode von Jabne. Zur Trennung von Juden und Christen im 1./2.Jh. n.Chr.,” Studien zur Geschichte und Theologie, AGAJU 15 (Leiden: Brill, 1978), 45–64. E. Yannai, “A Byzantine Pottery Kiln Complex at Yavne,” Qadmoniot 144 (2012): 94–103. RICHARD A. FREUND

Related entries: Josephus, Writings of; Mishnah; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Emperors; Roman Generals; Sages; Salome Alexandra; Talmud, Babylonian; Uprisings, Diaspora (116–117 ce; Kitos War).

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Yohanan Ben Zakkai Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai was the most prominent rabbinic sage at the eve of the destruction of the Second Temple (70 ce) and immediately thereafter. Talmudic literature, and many scholars in its wake, views him as the most influential figure in the rehabilitation of Judaism following the calamity (Schremer 2005: 234–35). Ben Zakkai’s family background is uncertain. According to a later tradition, he lived in Arav (identified as modern day Arraba) in the central lower Galilee for 18 years (y. Šabb. 16:8, 15d). If this tradition is authentic, it relates, presumably, to the period preceding the Temple destruction. Other talmudic traditions describe Ben Zakkai as a student of Hillel (m. ͗Abot 2:8); however, in view of the fact that Hillel lived and operated during the time of Herod the Great (40–4 bce), this association is unlikely. More conceivably, the tradition purports to convey the direct trajectory of halakah (Jewish law) from Hillel to the Tannaim. It is almost certain that Ben Zakkai was an adjudicator and teacher of halakah in Jerusalem. He was among the leaders of the Pharisees, as elucidated by his disputes with the Sadducees (e.g. m. Yad. 4:6; t. Parah 3:8). Although one passage in the Mishnah even treats him as a member of the Sanhedrin (m. Sanh. 5:2), this should be viewed judiciously in light of many reservations concerning the existence of the Sanhedrin itself. Although Ben Zakkai is prominent in Tannaitic literature, it is only according to Amoraic sources that he became the father of post-destruction Judaism (Neusner 1970: 273–97). The most famous story about Ben Zakkai tells of his departure from Jerusalem during the siege and his foretelling of Vespasian’s imminent appointment as emperor (b. Giṭ. 56a–56b; ͗Abot R. Nat. A, 4; ͗Abot R. Nat. B, 6; Lam. Rab. 1:5). It is impossible to corroborate the details of the story; it bears similarity to Josephus’ account of this escape and prediction (Josephus, J.W. 3.391– 408), though incongruities remain. This said, the escape of numerous dignitaries from Jerusalem was a well-documented phenomenon (J.W. 5.569), and Ben Zakkai was almost assuredly among this group (on the various traditions see Rubenstein, 1999: 139–75). Much of Ben Zakkai’s activity that is documented in rabbinic literature occurs in Yavneh, which, probably due to Ben Zakkai’s personality, became the assembly place for a significant segment of rabbinic society. Most of his activity involved the promulgation of ordinances designed to facilitate the continuation of Jewish life in the post-destruction reality. A number of ordinances pertain to the fixing of the calendar (m. Roš Haš. 4:4), which were necessary to prevent a situation whereby each town celebrated the holidays at different times. Other ordinances allowed the continued observance of commandments that previously obtained exclusively in the Temple. For example, Ben Zakkai determined that the four species should be taken for the entire seven days of Sukkot, as was practiced in the Temple (m. Roš Haš. 4:3). These ordinances elicited the notion that Ben Zakkai was attempting to fashion a conception of Judaism that was not Temple-dependent. A late midrash, from the end of the Byzantine period, tells of his student, R. Joshua, lamenting the destruction of the Temple while he and Ben Zakkai passed by its ruins. In response to Ben Zakkai’s inquiry, R. Joshua explained that he was weeping because the Jews had lost the medium through which they were absolved of their sins. Ben Zakkai replied to R. Joshua, “My son, do not be distressed. We have another forgiveness, an equally effective way—through acts of loving-kindness” (͗Abot R. Nat. A, 4). These midrashim have shaped modern scholarship’s view of the persona of Ben Zakkai, though more recent research has been more critical of them (Neusner 1970).

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Although halakic rulings attributed to Ben Zakkai are not abundant, it seems that the most outstanding of the next generation’s sages were his students; they, in one fashion or another, transmitted portions of his teachings (m. ͗Abot 2:8). Like his formative years, the end of Ben Zakkai’s life is cloaked in obscurity. Some claim that after heading the center at Yavneh for a number of years, Ben Zakkai vacated his position in favor of Rabban Gamaliel—whose family was among the prominent Pharisaic families of Jerusalem at the eve of the destruction; other scholars view him as the heir or the restorer of the office of Nasi. In any event, there is a tradition that Ben Zakkai operated in the area of Bror Chayil (identified with the Arab village of Barir, about 40 km south of Yavneh), and some view it as his last recorded location (t. Maʿaś. 2:1).

Bibliography J. Neusner, Development of a Legend: Studies on the Traditions Concerning Yohanan ben Zakkai (Leiden: Brill, 1970). A. Schremer, “Stammaitic Historiography,” in Creation and Composition: The Contribution of the Bavli Redactors (Stammaim) to the Aggada, ed. J. L. Rubenstein (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 219–35. MEIR BEN-SHAHAR

Related entries: Calendars; Festivals and Holy Days; Josephus, Writings of; Mishnah; Revolt, First Jewish; Roman Emperors; Sages; Tosefta.

Zadokites Zadokites (‫בני צדוק‬, bny ṣdwq, “the sons of Zadok”) appear in the Hebrew Bible three times, specifically in Ezekiel 40:46; 44:15; 48:11, where they are depicted as the only descendants of Levi who remained faithful to God’s purposes when Israel went astray (see also 43:19, which refers to ‫הכהנים הלוים אשר הם מזרע צדוק‬, hkhnym hlwym ʾšr hm mzrʿ ṣdwq, “the Levitical priests of the family of Zadok”). As a result, Ezekiel declares them to be the only Levites who may draw near to God to make sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple foreseen in Ezekiel 40–48. By contrast, the Aaronites (‫בני אהרון‬, bny ʾhrwn, “the sons of Aaron”) are the Levites charged with altar service in virtually all other postexilic literature (see e.g., Lev 1–7; Exod 28–29; 1 Chron 24). This contradiction alone provides a seemingly intractable historical mystery as to which priestly line had the privilege of altar service (Cross 1997: 195–215). But deepening the mystery is the difficulty of establishing the Levitical lineage of the Zadokites. According to 2 Samuel 8:17 Zadok descends from Eli of Shiloh through Ahitub, who is of the Levitical line (cf. 1 Sam 14:3). However, 2 Samuel 8:17 is regarded as corrupt and contradicts other texts, among which is 1 Samuel 2:27–36, a prophecy which declares that Eli’s line will be replaced by another because of his sons’ apostasy—a prophecy fulfilled in 1 Kings 2:26–27 by David’s elevation of Zadok over Abiathar. These difficulties in the Deuteronomic textual evidence (among others) leave Zadok without a clear lineage, and not a Levitical one in any case. Nonetheless, Chronicles especially includes Zadok in Levitical priestly lineages (1 Chron 6:1–15 [Hebr. 5:27–41], 49–53 [Hebr. 6:34–38]) and one high priest is explicitly designated a Zadokite by 2 Chronicles 31:10. Taken together, this evidence suggests that, in spite of the considerable imprecision in the language writers used to speak of the priestly line, the Second Temple period likely saw an altar priesthood that carried the Zadokite title in some form or

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another, and that there was tension between various factions laying claim to altar service and/ or the office of the high priest. Leaving aside the Dead Sea Scrolls, texts outside of the Hebrew Bible mentioning Zadok and his descendants are few in number. For example, Josephus takes over the Chronicler’s genealogy for Zadok (Ant. 7.110), but never refers to Zadokites as a group. A medieval Hebrew addition to Sirach 51 between verses 12 and 13 does offer a benediction that gives thanks to God “who has chosen the sons of Zadok to be priests.” Little can be made of this, though, and the suggestion that the benediction was an addition to Sirach made by an Essene should be regarded with skepticism (Skehan and Di Lella 1987: 568–71). By comparison with the Hebrew Bible and the other early Jewish literature, the occurrences of the term ‫( בני צדוק‬bny ṣdwq) in the Dead Sea Scrolls are numerous; but like the biblical occurrences, they also leave a trail of confusion as to their correspondence with actual practices and leadership roles. The Zadokites were first noticed in the Cairo Geniza Damascus Document (CD), which was first published by Solomon Shechter in 1910. It was confirmed as an Essene document with the discovery of corresponding Cave 4 manuscripts. These feature in an interpretation of Ezekiel 44:15 in CD 3:21–4:4. The midrash assigns the reference to the “priests and Levites” in 44:15 to the “repentant of Israel who go out of the land of Judah,” and the reference to the “sons of Zadok” to “the chosen of Israel who are called by name, the ones who appear in the Last Days.” Here the Zadokites seem to be a group of “super-righteous” whom the writer(s) anticipated may yet appear as successors to the present righteous who “go out,” presumably into the wilderness as covenanters. Contrasting with CD’s possible anticipation of Zadokite ascendance, occurrences of the title in the Dead Sea Scrolls originating from Qumran mostly seem to regard the Zadokites as an already-existing leadership group in the community possessing considerable authority and power. According to the Community Rule they oversee the men of the community, and the initiates to the community are to heed their interpretation of the law of Moses (1QS v 2–5, 9; see also the ambiguous ‫בני הצדוק‬, bny hṣdwq in 1QS ix 14). The Rule of the Congregation extends Zadokite authority over the community into the last days (1QSa i 2; ii 4). The Rule of Benedictions assigns to the maskil, the “Instructor,” a special benediction for “the sons of Zadok, the priests chosen by God,” to lead the community in covenant faithfulness. 4QFlorilegium names the sons of Zadok as the embodiment of Ezekiel 37:23, those who hold themselves pure for the community (4Q174 1–2 i 17). A Qumran manuscript of the Damascus Document also mentions them, although what the text says of them is uncertain (4Q266 5 i 16; see, however, Hempel 2013: 221–27). This evidence has been understood variously to suggest that the community was superintended by actual Zadokite priests—perhaps they were refugees from the Jerusalem Temple who rejected it as corrupt—or that the title was merely honorific for community leaders who may or may not have been priests. Adding to the ambiguity of the evidence for the actual role of the Zadokites in the scrolls community, a Cave 4 manuscript paralleling 1QS v 2–5 replaces the Zadokites of 1QS with “the Many” and omits Zadokites where they would be expected in parallel with 1QS v 9 (4Q258 i 1–3; they are also otherwise absent from the other Cave 4 manuscripts of the Rule of the Community). Various understandings of this variant “tradition” have been put forward:

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that the community began as a lay-led movement, and only later accepted the leadership of priests-in-exile; that the community adopted priestly monikers for its lay leaders as a means of claiming for themselves the authority of the Jerusalem priesthood; or that the broader Essene movement accepted co-existing lay and priestly models of leadership (M. Collins 2009; Kugler 1999; Schofield 2009). One final complication only deepens the mystery. As in the Hebrew Bible, Aaronites, ‫בני אהרון‬, bny ʾhrwn are also designated as leaders of the community, and this even within the version of the Rule of the Community where the ‫בני צדוק‬, bny ṣdwq also fulfill that role (see, e.g., 1QS v 7–9, where the Aaronites are assigned sole authority over the law, finances, and polity of the community, an apparent contradiction of authority assigned to the Zadokites in v 2–5). This probably indicates that the titles were viewed as interchangeable, though such a solution is open to debate, like so much of the other Qumran evidence for the Zadokites (but see now Hempel 2013: 221–27).

Bibliography F. M. Cross, Canaanite Myth to Hebrew Epic (Cambridge: Harvard University, 1997). C. Hempel, “Consider Ourselves in Charge: Self-Assertion Sons of Zadok Style,” in The Qumran Rule Texts in Context: Collected Studies, ed. C. Hempel (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 211–27. J. Liver, “The ‘Sons of Zadok the Priests’ in the Dead Sea Sect,” RQ 6 (1967): 3–30. R. Kugler, “Priesthood at Qumran,” The Dead Sea Scrolls After Fifty Years (1999), 2:93–116. A. Schofield, From Community to the Yahad: A New Paradigm of Textual Development for the Community Rule, STDJ 77 (Leiden: Brill, 2009). S. Shechter, Documents of Jewish Sectaries: Fragments of a Zadokite Work (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1910). ROBERT KUGLER

Related entries: Ezekiel, Book of; Genealogy; Priesthood; Sacrifices and Offerings; Samuel, Books of.

Zealots In the Second Temple period the term “zealot” (Ζηλωτής, Zēlōtēs) typically referred to Jews who exhibited a passionate devotion for God’s Law (Torah) characterized by the active punishment of those who failed to properly observe it (Horsley 1986: 159). The pretext for such religious “zeal” (ζῆλος, zēlos; ‫קנאה‬, qnʾh) in this period is found in various examples throughout the Torah––both divine and human. God is described as “zealous” (Exod 20:3; 34:14; Deut 5:9) and even a “zealot” in the Septuagint (Exod 20:5; 34:14; Deut 4:2; 5:9; 6:15). Phinehas was so “zealous for his God” that he executed transgressors of the Law (Num 25:1–13; Hengel 1989: 159–60); his violent actions were subsequently lauded in various Second Temple texts (Sir 45:23; 1 Macc 2:26, 54; 4 Macc 18:12; Josephus, Ant. 4.152–55; Philo, Leg. 3.242, Post. 182; see also LXX Ps 105:30). This ethos of zealotry is encapsulated in Philo’s statement that there were thousands of “zealots” (Ζηλωταί, Zēlōtai) for the Law who were quick to punish offenders (Spec. 2.253). This kind of zealotry is also manifest in the New Testament. When Paul presents his motives for persecuting the early followers of Jesus, he repeatedly cites “zeal” for the Law

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(Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6; cf. Hengel 1989: 180). Along these same lines, “zeal” led certain Jews to plot against Paul after his conversion (Acts 21:20–22). Zeal was likewise given as the primary reason for Jesus’ forceful expulsion of those who were selling at the Jerusalem Temple (John 2:17), and one of Jesus’ own disciples, Simon, was termed a “zealot” (Luke 6:15; Acts 1:3; cf. Matt 10:4). Josephus also employs the epithet “zealot(s),” but he utilizes it in various ways (Gabba 1999: 148–56). As in the instances above, at times he applies it generically for a person zealous for the Law (Ant. 12.271; 20.47); at other times, he employs it for a “devotee” or an “adherent” (Life 11; Ag. Ap. 1.162), a common Hellenistic usage (Hengel 1989: 335–38). In addition, he uses the word in a very specific context to refer to a faction of rebels and revolutionaries who played a prominent part in the First Jewish Revolt of 66–70 ce. Here, however, his use of this term is often driven by apologetic motives, namely to differentiate legitimate groups of Jews from illegitimate. While some have concluded that these “zealots” constituted a long-standing revolutionary movement whose origin could be traced back to the beginnings of Roman rule and the revolt of Judas the Galilean in 6 ce (Ant. 18.9–10, 23; 20.102; Donaldson 1990: 21), such a conclusion belies the evidence. There is no direct connection in Josephus between zealots and Judas the Galilean––as there may have been with the sicarii––and the evidence suggests that zealots only emerged as a faction after the revolt was already underway (Horsley 1986: 160–61). Josephus’ first reference to the “zealots” as an organized group appears in a reference to events dated 66/67 ce (J.W. 4.160). Here he details how the high priests in Jerusalem incited the people against “the zealots” (J.W. 4.158–61) because of their assaults on certain Herodian families (J.W. 4.138–146); shortly thereafter, the zealots were further attacked because of their selection of new high priests from plebeian families (J.W. 4.147–57). Since all other references in Josephus to “zealots” occur after the revolt had begun, aside from a few stray instances, it is evident that this group was a consequence, rather than a cause, of the revolt (Cohen 1989: 165). It appears that the zealots emerged after numerous bands of brigands and refugees entered Jerusalem and formed a coalition during the early stages of the revolt (J.W. 4.135–38). The numerous heinous acts ascribed to them by Josephus, such as murders and lootings (J.W. 4.139– 41, 162, 314–18, 386–88; 7.269–70), may have occurred, but they were not the result of a welldefined nationalistic agenda or theology. Rather, such actions can be seen primarily as a result of the revolt, in which different Jewish factions were vying for power and competing for resources. Thus, the Jewish Revolt of 66–70 ce was not the work of an organized and long-standing Jewish resistance known as the zealots, as some have previously supposed.

Bibliography T. L. Donaldson, “Rural Bandits, City Mobs, and the Zealots,” JSJ 21 (1990): 19–40. R. Horsley, “The Zealots: Their Origin, Relationships and Importance in the Jewish Revolt,” NovT 28 (1986): 159–82. M. Smith, “Zealots and Sicarii. Their Origins and Relation,” HTR 64 (1971): 1–19. LINCOLN H. BLUMELL AND HALEY WILSON-LEMMON

Related entries: Jesus of Nazareth; Josephus, Writings of; Masada, History of; Palestine; Resistance Movements; Revolt, Maccabean; Sicarii; Violence.

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Zerubbabel Zerubbabel was a governor of early Persian Yehud, whom the Hebrew Bible credits with rebuilding the Jerusalem Temple. At present there is no direct external evidence for him. On the basis of the genealogy in Chronicles, he is typically understood to be a Davidide, though the details of his ancestry are inconsistent across sources: Chronicles gives his father as Pedaiah (1 Chr 3:19), but Haggai and Ezra say he is the son of Shealtiel (Zech 4 and Neh 12:47 do not give a patronymic). Both Pedaiah and Shealtiel are listed as sons of Jehoiachin, the king exiled by Nebuchadnezzar. The Chronicler also lists two sons and a daughter. The Davidic status was later accepted by the Gospel genealogies of Jesus (Matt 1:12–13; Luke 3:27), which include Zerubbabel but with sons not mentioned by the Chronicler. A bulla from an unknown context belonging to a “Shelomith, maidservant of Elnatan” (Avigad 1976: no 14) might refer to the daughter in Chronicles. Two of the Twelve Prophets mention Zerubbabel. Haggai encourages Zerubbabel to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple, and Zechariah 4 promises that he will complete it; both utterances are dated to the second year of Darius. Haggai 2 promises to shake the heavens and make Zerubbabel a signet ring. Neither book actually recounts the completion of the Temple. The list of Babylonian “returnees” in Ezra 2/Nehemiah 7 has a Zerubbabel (without patronymic) returning to Yehud from Babylon (along with a Nehemiah). Within Ezra’s narrative of the Temple rebuilding, Haggai and Zechariah encourage the rebuilding under Darius (Ezra 5), and completion is dated to 3/Adar/ Darius 6 (Ezra 6:15). First Esdras 3–4 adds a legend of a riddle competition to the account in Ezra that explains Darius’ motivations for sponsoring the project. Ben Sira includes Zerubbabel in his list of heroes along with Joshua for their roles in rebuilding the Temple (49:11–12). Zerubbabel was taken up as the hero in a family of medieval Jewish apocalypses called Sefer Zerubbabel (Reeves 2013). Most scholars accept that Zerubbabel was a governor under Darius I, though a few have suggested alternate dates and roles. Dequeker argues for the Temple being rebuilt under Darius II (1993). This theory, while plausible on the basis of Ezra-Nehemiah, confronts a difficulty in the Elephantine Papyri, which evince a governor of Yehud under Darius II named Bagavahya (AP 30–32). Edelman has argued that Zerubbabel was nearly contemporary with Nehemiah in an argument that the Temple was rebuilt under Artaxerxes I (Edelman 2005: 351). A minority also identify Zerubbabel with Sheshbazzar (Lust 1987). The most significant debate around Zerubbabel is what he means for the Davidic dynasty. Some see him as implicated or involved in a rebellion against Persian rule (Ahlstöm 1994: 820), while others reject this theory (Bedford 2001: 234, 262). Alternately, some see him as merely raising Jewish expectations that went unsatisfied (Kashow 2013). Some scholars argue that he was a vassal king; similarly, Garbini suggests that Darius tried to establish Zerubbabel as a vassal king, but was thwarted by the priesthood (1988: 71). The royalist implications of the language in Haggai and Zechariah, however, are indeterminate at best (Mason 1998). More commonly he is seen as a governor (Na’aman 2000). Pomykala (1995: 46–50) even questions Zerubbabel’s Davidic status. The debate largely turns on how one reads Haggai 2 and Zechariah 6 and the significance of the limited information in the record, as well as whether “eschatology” is a

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relevant issue in this time period. Determination of Zerubbabel’s status influences the trajectory one can sketch for the structure of Yehud from the Persian period onwards.

Bibliography G. W. Ahlström, The History of Ancient Palestine (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994). N. Avigad, Bullae and Seals from a Post-Exilic Judean Archive, Qedem 4 (Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University, 1976). L. Dequeker, “Darius the Persian and the Reconstruction of the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem (Ezra 4,24),” in Ritual and Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East, ed. J. Quaegebeur (Louvain: Peeters, 1993), 67–92. D. V. Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem, Bible World (London: Equinox, 2005). G. Garbini, History and Ideology in Ancient Israel, trans. J. Bowden (London: SCM, 1988). R. C. Kashow, “Zechariah 1–8 as a Theological Explanation for the Failure of Prophecy in Haggai 2:20–23,” JTS 64.2 (2013): 385–403. J. Lust, “The Identification of Zerubbabel with Sheshbassar,” ETL 63.1 (1987): 90–94. R. Mason, “The Messiah in the Postexilic Old Testament Literature,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar, ed. J. Day (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 338–64. N. Na’aman, “Royal Vassals of Governors? On the Status of Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel in the Persian Empire,” Hen 22.1 (2000): 35–44. K. E. Pomykala, The Davidic Dynasty Tradition in Early Judaism, EJL 7 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1995). J. C. Reeves, “Sefer Zerubbabel: The Prophetic Vision of Zerubbabel ben Shealtiel,” in Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures I, ed. R. Bauckham, J. R. Davila and A. Panayatov (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 448–66. JASON M. SILVERMAN

Related entries: David; Exile; Ezra, Book of; Jesus of Nazareth; Minor Prophets; Nehemiah, Book of; Persian Period; Restoration.

841

842

General Bibliography

Abegg, M., Jr., P. Flint, and E. Ulrich. The Dead Sea Scrolls Bible: The Oldest Known Bible Translated for the First Time into English. San Francisco: Harper, 1999. Adams, S. A. Baruch and the Epistle of Jeremiah: A Commentary Based on the Texts in Codex Vaticanus. SEPT. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Ahlström, G. W. The History of Ancient Palestine. Edited by D. Edelman. 2nd ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994. Aitken, J. K., ed. The T&T Clark Companion to the Septuagint. London: T&T Clark, 2015. Aland, B., K. Aland, J. Karavidopoulos, C. M. Martini, and B. M. Metzger, eds. Novum Testamentum Graece. 28th rev. ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2012. Albertz, R. Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the Sixth Century B.C.E. StBL 3. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. Alexander, P. The Mystical Texts: Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice and Related Manuscripts. LSTS 61. London: T&T Clark, 2006. Alexander, P., and G. Vermes. “4QSefer ha-Milḥama.” Pages 228–46 in Qumran Cave 4 XXVI: Cryptic Texts and Miscellanea, Part 1. Edited by S. Pfann, L. Stuckenbruck, E. J. C. Tigchelaar, F. García Martínez, E. Chazon, M. Stone, A. Yardeni, M. Broshi, E. Eshel, H. Stegemann, J. Fitzmyer, P. Alexander, G. Vermes, T. Lim, J. C. Greenfield, M. Sokoloff, E. Tov, J. Naveh, H. Cotton, A. Steudel, S. Tanzer, A. Lange, E. Larson, D. Pike, D. Ernst, H. Eshel, M. Kister, T. Elgvin, S. Talmon, A. Lemaire, and F. M. Cross. DJD 36. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000. Alexander, P. S., and G. Vermes, eds. Qumran Cave 4.XIX: Serekh ha-Yaḥad and Two Related Texts. DJD 26. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998. Allegro, J. M. “171. Commentary on Psalms (A)” and “173. Commentary on Psalms (B).” Pages 42‒53, and pls. XV‒XVIII in Qumran Cave 4.I (4Q158-4Q186). Edited by J. M. Allegro. DJD 5. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968. Allegro, J. M. “177.  Catena (A).” Pages 67–74, 80–81 in Qumrân Cave 4.I (4Q158–4Q186). Edited by J. M. Allegro with A. A. Anderson. DJD 5. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968. Allegro, J. M. “182.  Catena (B).” Pages 80–81 in Qumrân Cave 4.I (4Q158–4Q186). Edited by J. M. Allegro with A. A. Anderson. DJD 5. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968. Allegro, J. M., “175.  Testimonia.” Pages 57–60 in Qumrân Cave 4 I (4Q158–4Q186). Edited by J. M. Allegro. DJD 5. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968. Allegro, J. M., ed. with  A. A. Anderson. Qumrân Cave 4.I (4Q158–4Q186). DJD 5. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968. Ameling, W. Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis II. Kleinasien. TSAJ 99. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004. Ameling, W., H. M. Cotton, W. Eck, B. Isaac, A. Kushnir-Stein, H. Misgav, J. Price, and A. Yardeni, eds. Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palaestinae. A Multi-lingual Corpus of the Inscriptions from Alexander to Muhammad. Vol. 2: Caesarea and The Middle Coast, 1121–2160. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Ameling, W., H. M. Cotton, W. Eck, B. Isaac, A. Kushnir-Stein, H. Misgav, J. Price, and A. Yardeni, eds. Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palaestinae. A Multi-lingual Corpus of the Inscriptions from Alexander to Muhammad. Vol. 3: South Coast, 2161–2648. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014. Amihay, A., and D. A. Machiela. “Traditions of the Birth of Noah.” Pages 53–69 in Noah and His Book(s), Edited by M. E. Stone, A. Amihay, and V. Hillel. EJL 28. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2010. Amit, D., J. Patrich, and Y. Hirschfeld, eds. The Aqueducts of Israel. JRA Sup 46. Portsmouth: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 2002.

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Anderson, R. T., and T. Giles. The Samaritan Pentateuch: An Introduction to Its Origin, History and Significance for Biblical Studies. Resources for Biblical Study 72. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012. Antonissen, H. “The Visionary Architecture of New Jerusalem in Qumran.” Pages 439–80 in Qumran und die Archäologie. Edited by J. Frey, C. Clausen, and N. Kessler. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. Arbel, V. D. Forming Femininity in Antiquity: Eve, Gender, and Ideologies in the Greek Life of Adam and Eve. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Argall, R. A. 1 Enoch and Sirach: A Comparative Literary and Conceptual Analysis of the Themes of Revelation, Creation and Judgment. SBLEJL 8. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995. Atkinson, K. A History of the Hasmonean State. JCT 23. London: T&T Clark, 2016. Audollent, A. Defixionum Tabellae. Paris: A. Fontemoing, 1904. Aune, D. E. Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983. Aviam, M. “Yodefat-Jotapata: A Jewish Galilean Town at the End of the Second Temple Period,” Galilee 2 (2015), 109–26. Avi-Yonah, M. The Holy Land: A Historical Geography from the Persian to the Arab Conquest (536 B.C.—A.D. 640). Rev. by A. F. Rainey. Jerusalem: Carta, 2002. Avi-Yonah, M. The Holy Land from the Persian to the Arab Conquests (536 BC to AD 640): A Historical Geography. Rev. ed. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977. Bagnall, R. S., ed. The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Baillet, M. “5.  Passage hymnique.” Pages 161–62 in Les “petites grottes” de Qumrân. Edited by M. Baillet, J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux. DJD 3. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962. Baillet, M. “510–511. Cantiques du Sage.” Pages 215–62 in Qumrân Grotte 4.III. DJD 7. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982. Baillet, M. “6Q18. Composition hymnique.” Pages 133–36 in Les “petites grottes” de Qumrân. Edited by M. Baillet, J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux. DJD 3. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962. Baillet, M. “Job.” Page 71 in Les “Petites Grottes” de Qumrân. Edited by M. Baillet, J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux. DJD 3. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962. Baillet, M. “Paroles des Luminaires.” Pages 137–75 in Qumrân Grotte 4. III. (4Q482–4Q520). DJD 7. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982. Baillet, M. “Un apocryphe de David (?).” Pages 81–82 in Les “Petites Grottes” de Qumrân. Edited by M. Baillet, J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux. DJD 3. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962. Baillet, M., J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux, eds. Les “petites grottes” de Qumran. DJD 3. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962. Barclay, J. M. G. Flavius Josephus, Translation and Commentary. Vol. 10: Against Apion. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Barclay, J. M. G. Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan (323 BCE–117 CE). Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996. Barclay, J. M. G. Paul and the Gift. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015. Bar-Kochva, B. The Image of the Jews in Greek Literature: The Hellenistic Period. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010. Bar-Kochva, B. Judas Maccabaeus: The Jewish Struggle against the Seleucids. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Barthelemy, D., and J. T. Milik, eds. Qumrân Cave 1. DJD 1. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955. Bauckham, R. The Climax of Prophecy. London: T&T Clark, 1993. Bauckham, R. James: Wisdom of James, Disciple of Jesus the Sage. Routledge: London, 1999. Bauckham, R. Jude, 2 Peter. WBC 50. Waco: Word, 1983. Bauckham, R., J. R. Davila, and A. Panayotov, eds. Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures I. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013. Baumgarten, A. The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era: An Interpretation. JSJSup 55. Leiden: Brill, 1997.

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van Bekkum, K., J. Dekker, and H. R. van den Kamp, eds. Playing with Leviathan: Interpretation and Reception of Monsters from the Biblical World. TBN 21. Leiden: Brill, 2017. VanderKam, J. C. The Book of Jubilees: A Critical Text. 2 vols. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 510–511/Scriptores Aethiopici, 87–88. Louven: Peeters, 1989. VanderKam, J. C. The Book of Jubilees. GAP. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001. VanderKam, J. C. The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Bible. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012. VanderKam, J. C. The Dead Sea Scrolls Today. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010. VanderKam, J. C. Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Measuring Time. London: Routledge, 1998. VanderKam, J. C. Enoch: A Man for All Generations. Studies on Personalities of the Old Testament. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1995. VanderKam, J. C. Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition. CBQMS 16. Washington: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1984. VanderKam, J. C. From Joshua to Caiaphas: High Priests after the Exile. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2004. VanderKam, J. C. “Righteous One, Messiah, Chosen One, and Son of Man in 1 Enoch 37–71.” Pages 169–91 in The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity: The First Princeton Symposium on Judaism and Christian Origins. Edited by J. H. Charlesworth. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992. VanderKam, J. C. “Studies in the Apocalypse of Weeks (1 Enoch 93:1–10; 91:11–17),” CBQ 46 (1984): 511–23. VanderKam, J. C., and P. Flint. The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity. New York: HarperCollins, 2002. Van De Water, R. “Reconsidering Paleographic and Radiocarbon Dating of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” RevQ 19 (2000): 423–39. van Henten, J. W. The Maccabean Martyrs as Saviours of the Jewish People: A Study of 2 and 4 Maccabees. JSJSup 57. Leiden: Brill, 1997. van Ruiten, J. T. A. G. M. Abraham in the Book of Jubilees, JSJSup 161. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Verheyden, J., ed. The Figure of Solomon in Jewish, Christian and Islamic Tradition: King, Sage and Architect. Themes in Biblical Narrative 16. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Vermès, G. The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English. Rev. ed. London: Penguin, 2004. von Weissenberg, H. 4QMMT: Reevaluating the Text, the Function, and the Meaning of the Epilogue. STDJ 82. Leiden: Brill, 2009. von Weissenberg, H., J. Pakkala, and M. Marttila, eds. Changes in Scripture: Rewriting and Interpreting Authoritative Traditions in the Second Temple Period. BZAW 419. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Wassén, C. Women in the Damascus Document. Academica Biblica 21. Atlanta: SBL, 2005. Weber, R., ed. Biblia Sacra iuxta Vulgatam versionem. Vol. 2. 3rd ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1983. Weeks, S. An Introduction to the Study of Wisdom Literature. London: T&T Clark, 2010. Weeks, S., S. Gathercole, and L. Stuckenbruck, eds. The Book of Tobit: Texts from the Principal Ancient and Medieval Traditions, With Synopsis, Concordances, and Annotated Texts in Aramaic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and Syriac. FSBP 3. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004. Weinfeld, M., and D. R. Seely, “4Q434–43, 4QBarkhi Nafshia-e.” Pages 255–334 in Qumran Cave 4. XX. Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 2. Edited by E. Chazon, T. Elgvin, E. Eshel, D. Falk, B. Nitzan, E. Qimron, E. Schuller, D. Seely, E. Tigchelaar, and M. Weinfeld. DJD 29. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999. Weiss, Z. Public Spectacles in Roman and Late Antique Palestine. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014. Weitzman, M. P. The Syriac Version of the Old Testament: An Introduction. Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 1999. Wellhausen, J. Prolegomena to the History of Israel. Translated by J. S. Black, and A. Menzies. Edinburgh: A&C Black, 1885. Werline, R. A. Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism: The Development of a Religious Institution. EJL 13. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998. 869

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Werline, R. A. “Reflections on Penitential Prayer: Definition and Form.” Pages 209–25 in Seeking the Favor of God. Vol. 2, Edited by M. J. Boda, D. K. Falk, and R. A. Werline. Leiden/Atlanta: Brill/ Society of Biblical Literature, 2007. Werman, C. “Epochs and End-Time: The 490-Year Scheme in Second Temple Literature,” DSD 13 (2006): 229–55. Werrett, I. Ritual Purity and the Dead Sea Scrolls. STDJ 72. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Wessely, C., ed. Studien zur Palaeographie und Papyruskunde. Leipzig: Avenarius, 1901–1924. White Crawford, S. Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008. White Crawford, S. The Temple Scroll and Related Texts. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. White Crawford, S., and C. Wassén, eds. The Scrolls from Qumran and the Concept of a Library. STDJ 116. Leiden: Brill 2015. Whitney, K. W. Two Strange Beasts: Leviathan and Behemoth in Second Temple and Early Rabbinic Judaism. HSM 63. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006. Williams, M. H. Jews in a Graeco-Roman Environment. WUNT 312. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013. Williamson, H. G. M. Ezra, Nehemiah. WBC 16. Waco: Word Books, 1985. Wills, L. M. The Jew in the Court of the Foreign King: Ancient Jewish Court Legends. HDR 26. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990. Wills, L. M. The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995. Winston, D. The Wisdom of Solomon: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 43. New York: Doubleday, 1979. Wise, M. O. Language and Literacy in Roman Judaea: A Study of the Bar Kokhba Documents. AYBRL. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. Wise, M. O., M. G. Abegg, and E. M. Cook. The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1996. Wise, M. O., M. G. Abegg, and E. M. Cook. The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation. Rev. ed. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2005. Wright, A. T. The Origin of Evil Spirits: The Reception of Genesis 6. 1–4 in Early Jewish Literature. Rev. ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015. Wright III, B. G. “Torah and Sapiential Pedagogy in the Book of Ben Sira.” Pages 157–86 in Wisdom and Torah: The Reception of ‘Torah’ in the Wisdom Literature of the Second Temple Period. Edited by B. Schipper and D. A. Teeter. JSJSup 163. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Wright III, B. G. The Letter of Aristeas. CEJL. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015. Wright, G. E., ed. The Bible and the Ancient Near East. Essays in Honor of William Foxwell Albright. Garden City: Doubleday, 1961. Wright, J. E. Baruch ben Neriah: From Biblical Scribe to Apocalyptic Seer. Colombia: University of South Carolina Press, 2003. Wright, J. L. Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah-memoir and Its Earliest Readers. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004. Wolff, H. W. Joel and Amos. Translated by W. Janzen. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977. Xeravits, G. King, Priest, Prophet: Positive Eschatological Protagonists of the Qumran Library. STDJ 47. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Xeravits, G., and J. Zsengellér, eds. The Book of Tobit: Text, Tradition, Theology: Papers of the First International Conference on the Deuterocanonical Books, Pápa, Hungary, 20–21 May, 2004. JSJSup 98. Leiden: Brill, 2005. Yadin, Y. Bar-Kokhba. New York: Random House, 1971. Yadin, Y. The Finds from the Bar-Kokhba Period in the Cave of the Letters. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1963. Yadin, Y. Masada: Herod’s Fortress and the Zealots’ Last Stand. New York: Random House, 1966. Yadin, Y. The Scroll of the War of the Sons of Light against the Sons of Darkness. Translated by B. Rabin and C. Rabin. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962. Yadin, Y., and J. Naveh. The Aramaic and Hebrew Ostraca and Jar Inscriptions. Masada I. The Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965. Final Reports. Jerusalem: IES, 1989. 870

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Yadin, Y., J. C. Greenfield, A. Yardeni, and B. A. Levine, eds. The Documents from the Bar Kokhba Period in the Cave of Letters: Hebrew, Aramaic and Nabatean-Aramaic Papyri. Judean Desert Studies 3. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University and the Shrine of the Book, Israel Museum, 2002. Yarbro Collins, A. Mark: A Commentary. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007. Yardeni, A. The Book of Hebrew Scripts: History, Palaeography, Scripts Styles, Calligraphy and Design. London: British Library, 2002. Yardeni, A. Textbook of Aramaic, Hebrew and Nabataean Documentary Texts from the Judaean Desert and Related Material. 2 vols. Jerusalem: Ben-Zion Dinur Center for Research in Jewish History, 2000. Yardeni, A. Understanding the Alphabet of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Jerusalem: Carta, 2014. Yaron, R. Introduction to the Law of the Aramaic Papyri. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961. Yigael, Y. The Scroll of the War of the Sons of Light against the Sons of Darkness. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962. Zahn, M. M. “‘Editing’ and the Composition of Scripture: The Significance of the Qumran Evidence,” HeBAI 3 (2014): 298–316. Zahn, M. M. Rethinking Rewritten Scripture: Composition and Exegesis in the 4QReworked Pentateuch Manuscripts. STDJ 95. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Ziegler, J. Jeremias, Baruch, Threni, Epistula Jeremiae. Vol. XV. 3rd ed. VTG Vetus Testamentum Graecum. Auctoritate Academiae Scientiarum Gottingensis editum. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006. Ziegler, J. Septuaginta Vetus Testamentum Graecum Auctoritate Academiae Scientiarum Gottingensis editum. XII.2 Sapientia Iesu Filii Sirach. 2nd ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980. Zuckermandel, M. S. Tosephta. Jerusalem: Wahrmann, 1963, repr. 1880.

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Image Credits

Cover Images Row 1 (left-to-right) Arch of Titus: The spoils of the Jerusalem Temple, Bas Relief, Arch of Titus, Rome, ca. 81 ce. Credit: Courtesy of Steven Fine and the Arch of Titus Project. Herodian Lamp: Herodian lamp. Credit: Courtesy of Nathan Stuckenbruck ‘Araq el-Amir: Hyrcanus’ palace (Qasr el-ʿAbd). Credit: Courtesy of Adam L. Bean. Messianic Apocalypse (4Q521): “Plate 330/1 B-497922 4Q521 col 2 lines 1–2 [mid-1st cent. bce] reference to God’s anointed one(s).” Credit: Courtesy of The Leon LevyDead Sea Scrolls Digital Library. Row 2 (left-to-right) Inscriptions: Bilingual grave inscription from Beth-Sheʿarim (‘Rabbi Gamaliel’). Credit: Courtesy of Loren T. Stuckenbruck. Coins: “Coin of Hyrcanus I with paleo-Hebrew inscription ‫היהודים וחבר הגדל הכהן יהוחנן‬.” Credit: Courtesy of David Hendin. Masada: “North-northwest aerial view of Masada.” Credit: Photograph by Andrew Shiva, distributed under a CC BY-SA 4.0 license. Stone Vessels: “Stone vessels.” Credit: Courtesy of Roland Deines. Row 3 (left-to-right) Qumran miqveh: “Steps damaged by earthquake (31 bce) with dividers descending to a miqveh at Qumran (loci 48–49).” Credit: Courtesy of Loren T. Stuckenbruck. Gamla Archaeology Site ‫הגולן ברמת גמלא ארכאולוגי אתר‬: “View of Gamla from the Northeast.” Cropped. Credit: Photograph by Hanay, distributed under a CC BY-SA 3.0 license. Ethiopic: “The Schøyen Collection Manuscript No. 2657, preserving a fragment of 1 Enoch (late 15th cent.).” Credit: Courtesy of The Schøyen Collection, Oslo and London. Roman aqueduct: Caesarea, Israel. Credit: © Barry Winiker/Getty Images. Spine Images Spine 1: Temple Scroll: “11Q19 col XLIV (early 1st cent. ce).” Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, by Ardon Bar-Hama. Spine 2: Coin: “Mattatayah Antigonus (Menorah) coin (40–37 bce).” Credit: Courtesy of Richard Freund. Essay Images: Part 3 Ahiqar Proverbs: Papyrus fragment containing the beginning of the Proverbs of Ahiqar. Credit: Courtesy of Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—PK; Fotograf: Sandra Steiß. Babatha Archive: The Archive of Babatha as Found. Credit: The Expedition to the Judean Desert, 1961 (Ch. By Y. Yadin, “Expedition D—The Cave of the Letters.” In The Expedition to the Judean Desert, 1961 (IES, 1962), 247, photograph A. Courtesy Israel Exploration Society. Bar Kokhba Letters: Image 1: Bound Cache of Bar Kokhba Letters. Credit: The Judean Desert Caves: Archaeological Survey 1960 (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1961), plate 22. Courtesy of the Israel Exploration Society. Bar Kokhba Letters: Image 2: Letter from Bar Kokhba’s order for Eleazar Ben Hita (Yadin P50, 2nd cent. ce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Baruch, Second: Beginning of Second Baruch in Codex Ambrosianus (6th/7th cent.; fol. 257r (Milan)). Credit: Courtesy the Center for the Preservation of Ancient Religious Texts (BYU).

Image Credits

Ben Sira: Ben Sira 51:13–30 from Qumran (11Q5 col xxi line 11 to col xxii line 1; late 1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Copper Scroll (3Q15): Image 1: Copper Scroll (3Q15) unopened. Credit: Courtesy of the Allegro family and Manchester Museum, The University of Manchester. Copper Scroll (3Q15): Image 2: Awni Dajani of the Jordanian Department of Antiquities with the Copper Scroll in six cut columns (ca. 1957). Credit: Courtesy of the Allegro family and Manchester Museum, The University of Manchester. Copper Scroll (3Q15): Image 3: 3Q15 column 11. Credit: Copyright EDF Mécénat. Damascus Document: Image 1 & 2: Larger fragments from the Damascus Document (CD-A col 1) and 4Q266 (frgs 9, 10). Credit 1: Reproduced by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library. Credit 2: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Daniel, Book of: 4Q112 (late 1st cent. bce) beginning with end of Daniel 2:19–2:33. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Elect of God: Text from 4Q534 1 i 8–12 with the reference to the “Elect One of God” (line 10). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Book of Watchers (1 En. 1–36): Image 1: 1 En. 6:7 in Aramaic (4Q201 frg 1 col iii; lines 6–12 [first half of 2nd cent. bce]). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Book of Watchers (1 En. 1–36): Image 2: 1 En. 6:7 in Ethiopic (Gunda Gunde Ms. 151 [15th cent.]). Credit: Image created by Michael Gervers and Ewa Balicka-Witakowska with the Hill Museum & Manuscript Library. Image supplied by HMML. Ezra, Fourth Book of: Image: Excerpt from P.Berol.9096 Sahidic fragment containing text from Fourth Ezra 13:30–33, 40–46. Credit: Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—PK; Fotograf: Sandra Steiß. Giants, Book of: Reconstructed fragments from 4Q530 containing the dream visions of the Giants. Credit: After PAM 43568. Habakkuk, Pesher of: Habakkuk Pesher column vii, which refers to the Teacher of Righteousness (lines 4–5). Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem by David Harris. Hodayot: 1QHa col. 19 clearly shows a change in scribal hands which has aided the reconstruction of the scroll. Credit: Eleazar Lipa Sukenik, Otzar Hamegilloth Hagenuzot (Jerusalem, The Bialik Institute and the Hebrew University 1954), Plate #45. 4QInstruction: 4Q416 2 iii 20–21 [end of 1st cent. bce] instruction concerning one’s spouse. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). 1QIsa-a: 1QIsaa column XXXIII [Isaiah 40:2–28] with secondary insertions. Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem/by Ardon Bar Hama. Jannes and Jambres: Geʿez fragment (13th century?) preserving text from Jannes and Jambres. Credit: Courtesy of Ted Erho and Loren Stuckenbruck. Job, Qumran Aramaic Version of (4Q157; 11Q10): 11Q10 (early 1st cent. ce) final column. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Jubilees, Book of: Image 1: 4Q216 col vii text of Jubilees 2:13–24 (mid- to late 1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Jubilees, Book of: Image 2: Ethiopic manuscript from Gunda Gunde (No. 162) text of Jubilees 2:7–14 (14th/15th cent.). Credit: Image created by Michael Gervers and Ewa Balicka-Witakowska with the Hill Museum & Manuscript Library. Image supplied by HMML. Latin Versions: Palimpsest Clm 6225 folio 103v with the abbreviation “dms” used in Judges 20:35. Credit: Courtesy of Bayerische Staatsbibliothek (Munich). Leviticus Targum: 4Q156 (mid-1st cent. bce) earliest use of double-dots for divisions in the text. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Megillat Taʿanit: O Scholion of Megillat Taʿanit from the Benedictine Monastery of St. Paul, Lavant Valley, Austria (13th cent.). Credit: Courtesy the Benedictine Monastery of St Paul, Lavant Valley, Austria. Melchizedek Scroll: 11Q13 ii 4–6, with ‫( מלכי צדק‬mlky ṣdq) on line 5. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). 873

Image Credits

Messianic Apocalypse: 4Q521 col. ii lines 1–2 (mid-1st cent. bce) a reference to God’s anointed one(s). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Miqṣat Maʿaśê ha-Torah (MMT): 4QMMTc (4Q396) frag. 2 containing halakic material (second half of 1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Papyri from Cave 7: 7Q1 excerpt from Exodus. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Psalms 151–155: 11Q5 col. 28 line 14 (early 1st cent. ce) superscript for Psalm 151B. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Reworked Pentateuch: 4Q365 frag. 23 (mid-1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Rule of the Congregation: 1QSa col 1 (early 1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Samaritan Pentateuch: 4QpaleoExodm (4Q22) col. 1: proto-Samaritan text for Exodus 6:25–7:19. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Odes of Solomon: A page from MS H, now kept in the John Rylands Library, Special Collections. Credit: Copyright of the University of Manchester. Temple Scroll: 11Q19 col. xliv (early 1st cent. ce). Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, by Ardon Bar-Hama. Testimonia (4Q175): 4Q175 lines 1–8 (late 2nd cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). War Scroll: 1QM col 1 lines 1–9 (late 1st cent. bce). Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Zephaniah, Apocalypse of: P. 1862 frag. 1 (verso; 4th–5th cent. ce) containing the embarking of the seer (Ch 14 Steindorff). Credit: Courtesy Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—PK (Photographer: Sandra Steiß).

Essay Images: Part 4 Alexander JAnnaeus: Bronze prutah, 14.5 mm, of Alexander Jannaeus, reigned 104–76 bce. The front of this coin shows a lily flower and is inscribed “Jonathan the King” in paleo-Hebrew script; the other side depicts an anchor (often shown upside down) with the Greek inscription ΒΑΣΙΛΕ[ΩΣ AΛEΞANΔ]POY (of King Alexander). Credit: Courtesy of David Hendin. Alexander the Great: Mosaic of Alexander III against Darius III at the Battle of Issus from Pompeii (ca. 150–100 bce). Credit: Mosaic from the House of the Faun in Pompeii. Courtesy of del Ministero dei Beni e delle Attività Culturali e del Turismo—Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Alexandria: Alexandria according to Strabo. Credit: Courtesy of Gregory E. Sterling. Amulets: Amulet from Asia Minor naming Michael, Gabriel, Ouriel, and Raphael. Credit: Courtesy Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan, KM # 2.6054 obv. Antioch (Syrian): Restored plan of Antioch based on literary texts and excavations. Credit: Originally published in G. Downey, A History of Antioch in Syria. From Seleucus to the Arab Conquest (Princeton: Univ. Press, 1961) pl. no. 11. Public Domain. Aqueducts: Image 1: The aqueduct through which water was supplied to the settlement at Qumran. Credit: Photo courtesy of Biblewalks.com Aqueducts: Image 2: Aqueduct at Caesarea Maritima, eastern side, looking north. Inset: Interior of aqueduct arches from Emperor Hadrian (left) alongside earlier aqueduct associated with Herod the Great (right). Credit: Courtesy of Daniel M. Gurtner. Arabic: MS Sinai Ar. 155, Sirach 1:27–2:9 (9th cent.). Credit: Courtesy of St. Catherine’s Monastery, Egypt (Photographer: Mirjam Lindgren Hjälm). ‘Araq el-Amir: Hyrcanus’ palace (Qasr el-cAbd). Credit: Courtesy of Adam L. Bean. Arch of Titus: The spoils of the Jerusalem Temple, Bas Relief, Arch of Titus, Rome, ca. 81 ce. Credit: Courtesy of Steven Fine and the Arch of Titus Project.

874

Image Credits

Architecture: Image 1: Fourth-century bce governor’s residence at Lachish. Credit: O. Tufnell, Lachish III: The Iron Age (London: OUP, 1953), pl.119. Courtesy of Wellcome Library. Architecture: Image 2: The Hasmonean Palace in Jericho plan. Credit: After The Hasmonean Palace in Jericho: The New Encyclopedia of Archeological Excavations in the Holy Land (Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society and Carta, 1993), 684. Courtesy Israel Exploration Society. Architecture: Image 3: Large corner ashlars of the Herodian Temple. Credit: Courtesy Galyn Wiemers, Generation Word. Baths: Caldarium in Herod’s bathhouse at Masada. Credit: Courtesy of Loren T. Stuckenbruck. Bethsaida: Image 1: Bethsaida adjacent to the ancient reaches of the Sea of Galilee. Credit: Courtesy of Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn. Bethsaida: Image 2: Stone anchor for a fishing vessel excavated at Bethsaida. Credit: Courtesy of Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn. Bethshean (Scythopolis): Nero, 54–68 ce, 23-mm bronze coin dated to 66/67 ce (CY 130). Obverse: Head of Nero to right. Reverse: Tyche stands left with cluster of berries and scepter, date across field and name of city around. Barkay 12, Roman Provincial Coinage I 4834. Credit: Courtesy of David Hendin. Caesarea Maritima: Image 1: Herodian Caesarea. Credit: After J. Patrich, Studies in the Archaeology and History of Caesarea Maritima: Caput Iudaeae, Metropolis Palaestinae (Leiden: Brill, 2011) Figure 8. Caesarea Maritima: Image 2: Reconstruction of Herod’s palace in Caesarea (aerial view from the southwest). Credit: Courtesy of I. Rabinovitch. Caiaphas: First-century ossuary inscribed twice with “Joseph son of Caiaphas.” Credit: Collection of Israel Antiquities Authority Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Avraham Hay. Cairo Geniza: (From the left) Stefan Reif, Israel Yeivin, and Ezra Fleischer sorting Genizah fragments at Cambridge University Library, 1974. Credit: Reproduced by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library. Capernaum: Capernaum: Partial plan. Credit: Courtesy of Sharon Lea Mattila. Catacombs (Rome): Image 1: Plan of the two Jewish catacombs under Villa Torlonia on the Via Nomentana in Rome. Credit: Courtesy of Pontificia Commissione di Archeologia Sacra, Rome. Catacombs (Rome): Image 2: Painted Jewish funerary inscription written in Greek, lower Villa Torlonia catacomb. Credit: Courtesy of Leonard V. Rutgers. Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim): Image 1: General plan of the Beth-She’arim Excavations. Credit: N. Avigad, Beth Sheʿarim: Report on the Excavations during 1953–1958, Vol. III: Catacombs 12–23 (Jerusalem: Massada Press, 1976), Figure 1. Cemeteries (Beth Sheʿarim): Image 2: Plan and sections of Catacomb 21. Credit: N. Avigad, Beth Sheʿarim: Report on the Excavations during 1953–1958, Vol. III: Catacombs 12–23 (Jerusalem: Massada Press, 1976), 116, Figure 52. Cemeteries (Bethshean): Plan of Roman-Byzantine Bethshean (Scythopolis). Credit: Image after Mazor G. and A. Najjar. Nysa-Scythopolis: The Caesareum and the Odeum, Bet She’an I (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority Report 33, 2007), plan 1.1. Courtesy of Gaby Mazor. Cemeteries (Qumran): Several north-south graves in the southern part of the cemetery near Khirbet Qumran. Credit: Courtesy of Jürgen Zangenberg. Cisterns and Reservoirs: Image 1: Cistern below the plateau on the northwest side of Masada. Credit: Courtesy of Igal Morag. Cisterns and Reservoirs: Image 2: Unroofed water pools on a schematic map of Jerusalem, 70 ce. Credit: Drawing by David Gurevich © 2016. Source: D. Gurevich, “The Water Pools and the Pilgrimage to Jerusalem in the Late Second Temple Period,” PEQ 149.2 (2017): 103–134, Figure 1. Cisterns and Reservoirs: Image 3: Pool of Hezekiah on the northwest of the old city of Jerusalem (taken ca. 1900–1905), looking north. Credit: Courtesy of Semitic Museum, Harvard University. Clothing and Dress: Image 1: Linen shirt from the Cave of Letters (Naḥal Ḥever). Credit: After Yigael Yadin, Bar-Kokhba (New York: Random House, 1971), 81.

875

Image Credits

Clothing and Dress: Image 2: Ritual fringes from the Cave of Letters (Naḥal Ḥever). Credit: After Yigael Yadin, Bar-Kokhba (New York: Random House, 1971), 85. Coins: Image 1: Coin of Hyrcanus I with paleo-Hebrew inscription ‫יהוחנן הכהן הגדל וחבר היהודים‬. Credit: Copyright © by David Hendin. Coins: Image 2: Jewish War silver shekel dated to the first year of the war, 66/67 ce, with the inscriptions ‫ שקל ישראל‬and ‫ירושלים הקדושה‬. Credit: Copyright © by David Hendin. Columbaria: Early Hellenistic period Columbarium at Subterranean Complex 61 Maresha. Credit: Photograph by M. Boesch, distributed under a CC BY-SA 4.0 license. Contracts from the Judean Desert: Cave of Letters P. Yadin 7 (= 5/6Ḥev 7). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Coptic: P.Berol.9096 Sahidic fragment containing text from Fourth Ezra 13:30–33, 40–46. Credit: Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—PK; Fotograf: Sandra Steiß. Cosmology: The universe as a tent according to the Book of Watchers and the Astronomical Book in 1 Enoch. Credit: Courtesy Eshbal Ratzon. Crucifixion: Image 1: Suggested postures for crucifixion based on archaeological data. Credit: J. Zias and E. Sekeles, “The Crucified Man from Giv’at ha-Mivtar: A Reappraisal,” IEJ 35 (1985): 22–27, Figure 7. Courtesy of Israel Exploration Society. Crucifixion: Image 2: Heel bone of Yehoḥanan, with nail inside. Credit: Collection of Israel Antiquities Authority Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem/by Meidad Suchowolski. Daliyeh, Wadi ed-: WDSP 2: A deed of a male and a female slave to a woman, Abiyʾadin (December 352/January 351 bce). Credit: Courtesy of Jan Dušek. Dead Sea Scrolls: The Caves of Qumran. Credit: Adapted from James C. VanderKam, The Dead Sea Scrolls Today (2nd ed; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 19 by Phoenix Mapping for T&T Clark (Bloomsbury). ʿEin Feshkha: ʿEin Feshkha in the Second Temple period. Credit: Y. Hirschfeld, “Excavations at Ein Feshkha, 2001: Final Report,” IEJ 54 (2004): 41, Figure 3. Courtesy of Israel Exploration Society. ʿEin-Gedi: Yadin Papyrus 11, line 1: Reference to En Gedi. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Elephantine and Elephantine Papyri: The recto of a letter (TAD A4.7), in which the leaders of Elephantine’s Jewish community request permission from the Persian governor to rebuild their destroyed temple (dated to 25 November 407 bce). Credit: Courtesy Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—PK (Photographer: Sandra Steiß). Enoch: Image of Enoch “the scribe” on fol. 1r in Gunda Gunde Ms. 151 (15th century). Credit: “Created by Michael Gervers and Ewa Balicka-Witakowska with the Hill Museum & Manuscript Library. Image supplied by HMML. Gunda Gunde Ms 151. Entertainment Structures: Herodian entertainment structures (Mohr Siebeck Tübingen). Credit: E. Netzer, The Architecture of Herod the Great Builder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 278, Figure 57. Fortresses and Palaces: North-northwest aerial view of Masada. Credit: Photograph by Andrew Shiva, distributed under a CC BY-SA 4.0 license. Gamla: General plan of Gamla. Credit: Courtesy of the IAA-Israel Antiquities Authority. Greece and the Aegean: Rheneia inscription (late 2nd–early 1st cent. bce) containing near identical text on both sides of the stone (A-B; IJO 70). Credit: After A. Deismann, Light from the Ancient East (transl. L.R.M. Strachan; New York and London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1927), 414. Hermon, Mount: View of Mount Hermon from the south. Credit: Photograph by Beivushtang, distributed under a CC BY-SA 3.0 license. Herodion: Image 1: Aerial image of Herodion. Credit: Photograph by Asaf T. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Herodion: Image 2: Enclosed interior at the top of Herodion. Credit: Photograph by Upyernoz, distributed under a CC 2.0 license. Horoscopes: 4Q318: Aramaic Zodiac calendar (late 1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

876

Image Credits

Hymns, Prayers, and Psalms: 4QPsf (4Q88), containing Pss 22, 107, 109 and at least three “apocryphal” psalms. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Inscriptions: A “voucher” certifying the ritual purity of an object or food. Credit: Photo Clara Amit, Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Jericho: Image 1: Pools of the Hasmonean Third Phase (Alexander Jannaeus). Credit: Photograph by Zev Radovan. Jericho: Image 2: Reconstruction of the Hasmonean palaces. Credit: “Reconstruction of the Hasmonean period palaces (phases 3–5: Pool area, fortified palace, twin palaces),” in E. Netzer, Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho. Final Reports of the 1973–1987 Excavations, Vol. I, Stratigraphy and Architecture (Israel Exploration Society; Jerusalem 2001), 311, ill. 457. Courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Jerusalem, Archaeology of: Jerusalem in the Second Temple period. Credit: “Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period,” The New Encyclopedia of Archeological Excavations in the Holy Land (Jerusalem; The Israel Exploration Society and Carta, 1993), vol. 2, 718. Courtesy Israel Exploration Society. Jewelry: Image 1: Hairpin from Omrit (early Roman period). Credit: Courtesy Tziona Grossmark. Jewelry: Image 2: Iron bracelet from Omrit (early Roman period). Credit: Courtesy Tziona Grossmark. Jotapata (Yodefat): Reconstruction of ancient Yodefat. Credit: By Brian Lalor, used with permission. Legal Texts (Qumran): 4QMMTc (4Q396) col. iv line 2 reading “we say” (‫אנחנו אומרים‬, ʾnḥnw ʾwmrym); second half of 1st century bce. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. Magdala/Taricheae: Image 1: Magdala stone (replica). Credit: Courtesy of Anders Runesson. Magdala/Taricheae: Image 2: Plan of northern sector of Magdala (West side). Credit: Courtesy of Marcela Zapata Meza, Magdala Excavation Director, and Andrea Garza Díaz Barriga, Ancient Cultures Research Center (Anahuac Mexico University). Magic Incantations and Bowls: 4Q560—4QExorcism ar containing adjurations against demonic beings (1st cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Maresha/Marisê: Heliodorus inscription: Transcription of correspondence in Greek between Seleucus IV and Heliodorus (178 bce). Credit: Extended loan from Michael and Judy Steinhardt, New York & IAA. Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem/by Elie Posner. Masada, Archaeology of: Image 1: Plan and reconstruction of the three-level palace on the northern cliff of Masada. Credit: E. Netzer, The Architecture of Herod the Great Builder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 18, Figure 2. Masada, Archaeology of: Image 2: Masada’s mountaintop during the third Herodian building phase (Mohr Siebeck Tübingen). Credit: E. Netzer, The Architecture of Herod the Great Builder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 18, Figure 2. Masada, Archaeology of: Image 3: Inside of synagogue integrated into western casemate wall (2nd phase). Credit: Photograph by Zev Radovan. Masada, Texts from: Mas (ps)Jubilees (mid-1st cent. ce) containing a reference to the Prince of Hostility (‫שר המסטמה‬, sar ha-masṭema). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Meals: Locus 77 at Khirbet Qumran, identified as dining hall. Credit: Courtesy of Loren T. Stuckenbruck. Menorah: Mattatayah Antigonus (Menorah) Coin (40–37 bce). Credit: Courtesy of Richard Freund. Miqva’ot: Image 1: Jericho, stepped pool with adjoining pool. Credit: © Carl Rasmussen, HolyLandPhotos.org. Reproduced with Permission. Miqva’ot: Image 2: Typical early Roman stand-alone stepped pool, with cistern opening alongside. Credit: © 2014 Sepphoris Regional Project/Eric M. Meyers. Reproduced with permission. Miqva’ot: Image 3: Cave or side-entrance stepped pool. Credit: © 2014 Sepphoris Regional Project/ Eric M. Meyers. Reproduced with permission. Miqva’ot: Image 4: Dual-entranceway stepped pool outside Dung Gate, Jerusalem. Credit: © 2014 Stuart S. Miller. 877

Image Credits

Mosaics: Mosaic floor from bathhouse in Herod’s palace at Herodium. Credit: Photograph by Unknown [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Murabbaʿat, Wadi: Image 1: View from inside Murabbaʿat Cave 1. Credit: Courtesy of Yuri Gershberg. Murabbaʿat, Wadi: Image 2: The entrance to Murabbaʿat Caves 1 (right) and 2 (left). Credit: Courtesy Loren T. Stuckenbruck. Nabatea: General view of the center of Petra showing the Colonnade and the Dushara Temple. Credit: Courtesy of J. Healey. Naḥal Ḥever: Cave of Letters, Judean Desert, Israel. Credit: Courtesy of University of Hartford (map) and Loren T. Stuckenbruck (photo). Ossuaries: Image 1: Ossuary of Yehoḥana. Credit: Collection of Israel Antiquities Authority Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Avraham Hay. Ossuaries: Image 2: Ossuray of Yehoḥana, inscription. Credit: Collection of Israel Antiquities Authority Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Avraham Hay. Ossuaries: Image 3: Ossuary of Simon, back side. Credit: Collection of Israel Antiquities Authority Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Avraham Hay. Ossuaries: Image 4: Ossuary of Simon, back side, drawing of inscription. Credit: N. Avigad, “A Depository of Inscribed Ossuaries in the Kidron Valley,” IEJ 12.1 (1962): 9, Figure 15. Courtesy of the Israel Exploration Society. Ossuaries: Image 5: Ossuary of Simon, front side with lid. Credit: HUJI1965, Courtesy of the Institute of Archaeology, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Photographer: by Gabi Laron). Ossuaries: Image 6: Ossuary of Simon, lid inscription. Credit: N. Avigad, “A Depository of Inscribed Ossuaries in the Kidron Valley,” IEJ 12.1 (1962): 10, Figure 16. Courtesy of the Israel Exploration Society. Ossuaries: Image 7: Ossuary of Yehoḥanan. Credit: Collection of Israel Antiquities Authority Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Avraham Hay. Ostia: Image 1: Reconstruction of phase I (1st–2nd cent. ce) of the Ostia synagogue. Credit: Courtesy of Donald D. Binder after a plan from the Archivio Fotographico della Soprointendenza Archeologica di Ostia. Ostia: Image 2: Artist’s reconstruction of the first phase of the synagogue (1st–2nd cent. ce), based on floor plan by Anders Runesson. Credit: Courtesy of Birger Olsson. Paleo-Hebrew Scrolls: Example of paleo-Hebrew script from 11Q1. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic: Image 1: 4QSamb (4Q52; late 3rd cent. bce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority; Photographer: Shai Halevi. Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic: Image 2: 1QIsaa col. xxxiii lines 6–24 (Isa 40:6–24). Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem/by Ardon Bar Hama. Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic: Image 3: 11Q19 col xliv lines 11–16 (early 1st cent. ce). Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, by Ardon Bar-Hama. Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic: Image 4: 1QS col. iii lines 13–26 (early 1st cent. bce). Credit: Shrine of the Book. Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic: Image 5: 4Q175 lines 1–8 (late 2nd cent. bce).” Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Paleography, Hebrew and Aramaic: Image 6: “1QM col i lines 1–9 (late 1st cent. bce). Credit: Shrine of the Book Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Paleography, Greek: Image 1: Section from an exchange of land from the archive of Aspidas, P. Macquarie inv.356 (May–December 334 ce?). Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Macquarie University. Paleography, Greek: Image 2: A fragment of the Iliad, P. Mich. inv. 2810 II ce. Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Graduate Library, University of Michigan.

878

Image Credits

Paleography, Greek: Image 3: A section of Persae of Timotheus, 4th century bce. Credit: Courtesy of Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin—PK; Fotograf: Sandra Steiß. Paleography, Greek: Image 4: A Royal decree, 237 bce, P. Mich. inv. 3106. Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Graduate Library, University of Michigan. Paleography, Greek: Image 5: Private letter, P. Mich.inv. 374, late 3rd–early 4th century ce. Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Graduate Library, University of Michigan. Paleography, Greek: Image 6: Shepherd of Hermas, P. Mich. 2.2 129, later half of 3rd century ce. Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Graduate Library, University of Michigan. Paleography, Greek: Image 7: Knights of Aristophanes, P. Mich. inv.6035, 2nd/3rd century ce. Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Graduate Library, University of Michigan. Paleography, Greek: Image 8: Private letter, P. Mich. inv.1614, 6th century ce. Credit: Image digitally reproduced with the permission of the Papyrology Collection, Graduate Library, University of Michigan. Paleography, Greek: Image 9: Fragment containing Malachi 3:7 (8ḤevXIIgr; mid-1st cent. bce– mid-1st cent. ce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Palmyra: Tomb no. 5 bearing funerary inscription, located in the western Necropolis of Palmyra (83 ce). Credit: Courtesy of J. Healey. Pesharim: Image 1: 4Q169 (4QpNah) f3–4 ii.2 reading “the interpretation is” (‫[ פשרו הוא‬pšrw hwʾ]). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Pesharim: Image 2: 4Q169 (4QpNah) f3–4 ii.4 reading “its interpretation concerns” (‫[ פשרו על‬pšrw ʿl]). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Phylacteries and Mezuzot: Phylactery (Tefillin) case from Qumran, Cave 4 (2nd–1st cent. bce). Credit: Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem/by Meidad Suchowolski. Pottery: Image 1: Small-mouthed globular cooking pots from Jericho. Credit: Courtesy of R. Bar-Nathan, Jericho Excavations. Pottery: Image 2: Wide-mouthed, round-bottomed casseroles from Jericho. Credit: Courtesy of R. Bar-Nathan, Jericho Excavations. Pottery: Image 3: Eastern Sigillate A Tablewares: Assemblage from Tel Anafa. Credit: Courtesy of Sharon Herbert and Andrea Berlin, Tel Anafa Excavations. Pottery: Image 4: Delphiniform lamps from Jericho. Credit: Courtesy of R. Bar-Nathan, Jericho Excavations. Pottery: Image 5: Herodian lamps from the Jewish Quarter Excavations. Credit: After N. Avigad, Jewish Quarter excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Volume 4 The Burnt House of Area B and other studies. (2000). Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Volume 4, 147, plate 4.7 numbers 1–2. Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine: Image 1: Reconstruction of central house from area 53 in Maresha. Credit: A. Kloner, “The Site and the Epigraphic Finds,” Maresha Excavations Final Report III (IAA Report 45; Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2010), 4. Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine: Image 2: Central courtyard house in Khibet Badd ‘Isa. Credit: Courtesy of Y. Magen, G. Bijovsky, Y. Tzionit, and O. Sirkis, after “Khibet Badd ‘Isa—Qiryat Sefer,” Y. Magen et al., ed. The Land of Benjamin (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2004), 186. Private Dwellings in Roman Palestine: Image 3: Farmhouse with a tower in ʻOfarin (Samaria). Credit: Courtesy of S. Riklin, after “The Courtyard Towers in the Light of Finds from ʻOfarin,” ʻAtiqot, 32 (1997): 95. Procurators: Inscription from Caesarea Maritima identifying Pontius Pilate as Praefectus. Credit: Courtesy of Luke Neubert.

879

Image Credits

Qumran, Khirbet: Image 1: Aerial view of the ruins at Khirbet Qumran (facing southwest). Credit: Photograph by Zev Radovan. Qumran, Khirbet: Image 2: Khirbet Qumran: Schematic plan and position of loci in periods Ib and II. Credit: After R. De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1973), Plate XXXIX. Courtesy of the British Academy. Revolt, Maccabean: Image 1: The Dead Sea text in 4Q248 is often thought to describe Antiochus IV’s conquest of Jerusalem (Eshel 2008: 14–19). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Revolt, Maccabean: Image 2: Large stone structure excavated at the site of Horbat Ha-Gardi (near modern Modi’in). Credit: Griffin Aerial Imaging, courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Revolt, First Jewish: Bust of Emperor Vespasian (reigned 69–79 ce). Credit: Photograph by Carole Raddato, distributed under a CC 2.0 license. Revolt, Second Jewish (Bar Kokhba Revolt; 132–136 ce): Bar Kokhba Tetradrachm (reverse) with inscription, “For the Freedom of Jerusalem.” Credit: Courtesy of David Hendin. Rhodes: Rhodian Amphora from Bethsaida, Israel. Credit: Courtesy of the Bethsaida Excavations Project. Samaria: Plan of sacred precinct at Mount Gerizim. Credit: Y. Magen, “The Dating of the First Phase of the Samaritan Temple on mount Gerizim in Light of the Archaeological Evidence,” in Judah and Judaeans in the Fourth Century B.C.E. O. Lipschits, G. N. Knoppers and R. Alberz (eds.). (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns 2007), 163, Figure 6. Samaria-Sebaste: Image 1: General plan of the city during the early Roman period. Credit: E. Netzer, The Architecture of Herod the Great Builder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 83, Figure 20. Samaria-Sebaste: Image 2: Isometric reconstruction of the Augustem. Credit: E. Netzer, The Architecture of Herod the Great Builder (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 86, Figure 21. Scripts and Scribal Practices: 11Q5 (Psa) iv.1–7 containing Psalms 124:7–125:5 (ca. 1st cent. ce). Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi). Seals and Seal Impressions: Jar handle from Ramat Raḥel with place name “Hebron” (late 8th cent. bce). Credit: Photo by Oded Lipschits, Ramat Raḥel Expedition, Tel Aviv University. Sepphoris: View of the Acropolis on which Sepphoris stood (1st cent. bce–1st cent. ce). Credit: Courtesy of Gabi Laron. Sicarii: Sica and Sheath found at ʿEin Gedi (1st cent. ce). Credit: G. D. Stiebel, “Dressed to Kill— Military Dress as an Ideological Marker in Roman Palestine,” in Sh.-R. Marzel and G.D. Stiebel (eds.), Dress & Ideology: Fashioning Identity from Antiquity to the Present (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 155–156, Figure 8.1. (Photo courtesy of Dr. Guy D. Stiebel, Tel-Aviv University). Sinai, Mount: The Traditional “Mount Sinai” near Saint Catherine’s Monastery (Sinai Peninsula). Credit: Photograph by James Wasserman, distributed under a CC 3.0 license. Slavonic: 2 Enoch Title and Opening Lines from Manuscript U (Uvar. 18-1 GIM 80269, 626v; 15th cent.). Credit: Reproduced by permission of the State Historical Museum, Moscow (GIM – Государственный исторический музей Catalogue Entry: Uvar. 18-1 GIM 80269, 626v). Stone Vessels: Image 1: Hand-carved vessels. Credit: Courtesy of Roland Deines. Stone Vessels: Image 2: Small lathe-turned vessels. Credit: Courtesy of Roland Deines. Stone Vessels: Image 3: Large lathe-turned vessels. Credit: Courtesy of Roland Deines. Synagogues: Image 1: Reconstruction of the Gamla synagogue, looking east. Credit: “The Synagogue and Jewish Worship Illustration” is taken from the ESV® Study Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright ©2008 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Synagogues: Image 2: The Gamla synagogue, looking southwest. Credit: Courtesy of Anders Runesson. Synagogues: Image 3: The so-called “reading stone” in the smaller room in the Magdala synagogue, looking east. The more famous so-called “Temple stone” is visible in the background in the main hall. Credit: Courtesy of Anders Runesson. Synagogues: Image 4: Aerial view of the Magdala Synagogue. Credit: Courtesy of the Magdala Center.

880

Image Credits

Temple, Jerusalem: Image 1: Reconstruction of the Herodian Second Temple and its Courts. Credit: Courtesy of Joseph Patrich. Temple, Jerusalem: Image 2: Herodian precinct and the underground water cisterns surveyed by Wilson and Warren 1886. Credit: Courtesy of Joseph Patrich. Temple, Jerusalem: Image 3: The Second Temple as described in Mishnah tractate Middot (drawn by Leen Ritmeyer following the author’s instructions). Credit: Courtesy of L. Ritmeyer. Temple, Leontopolis (Archaeology): Reconstruction of Leontopolis Temple. Credit: Courtesy of Daniel M. Gurtner and Meron M. Piotrkowski. Theaters: Roman theater at Caesarea Maritima. Credit: Photograph by Berthold Werner. Public Domain. Tiberias: Roman-Byzantine city plan. Credit: Courtesy of Oren Gutfeld. Women: 1QSa col 1 lines 10–11 (early 1st century bce), woman bearing witness. Credit: Courtesy Israel Antiquities Authority (Photographer: Shai Halevi).

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